A subtle frown marred the woman’s visage, but she inclined her head, acknowledging his rejection. This was the sort of woman he would have approached only months ago. For a few nights, or more, they would have had some fun. Even now, he could appreciate her beauty, but he simply… didn’t want it.
Reaching into his pocket, he fingered the small vial that had been found on another planet in a place it had no business being. Nya had yet to come from the back room to greet him as she normally would, and that was fine with him. He needed the women to leave before he could conduct his business.
A blue bottle on a back shelf drew his gaze. It was a perfect match for the one he’d purchased for Blue. A rueful smile pulled his lips up as he lifted it from the shelf and removed the stopper. Sweet citrus invaded his senses. Same bottle, same scent. He placed it back on the shelf, suppressing the urge to instruct Nya to stop all sales of this particular item. She’d not want to be doing him any favors after this anyway.
The old woman finally emerged from behind a dark curtain to his left. “Ladies,” she said, gliding to where the two women had situated themselves in a beam of sunlight. Also a good tactic, using the natural light to create a soft nimbus behind them. “I’m afraid I need to close the shop early this day. If you have decided on your purchases, I can take care of them for you now? Otherwise, I would be most happy to accommodate you another day.”
Yes, Nya was a brilliant woman. She knew something was coming. She was also brave to clear the field for him, or maybe it was simply her knowledge that the inevitable could never be avoided. Either way, he decided to enjoy the show.
The brunette’s gaze traveled back to Trevon, then settled on the small blue bottle on the shelf beside him. “The one on the back shelf, in the blue vessel.”
His shoulders tightened. No. Blue’s scent did not belong on this woman.
“Ah. I am so sorry. That one has been purchased already and is on hold,” Nya said, earning herself another chance. Trevon seldom gave people more than one.
The woman shrugged. “Then no. There is nothing I’m interested in from your little shop.” Her lip curled in a sneer on the last word.
Trevon barely suppressed a flinch. Bad move on the woman’s part. Maybe she wasn’t as clever as she appeared. No one disrespected Nya in her own shop, even him.
“I see.” Nya’s voice cooled into freezing. “I will be sure to inform Lords Zeynar and Eteru that their wares were not up to your standards. I will also ensure the other shopkeepers know so you will not need to trouble yourselves.” She held the shop door open. “Good day ladies. I wish you joy in your… browsing.”
The women left, heads held high and frowns wrinkling their skin. Then Nya shut the door, turned the lock, and faced him.
Trevon pulled the bottle back off the shelf. “Smart of you.”
“I saw your expression on the monitor. Better watch that. You’ll give yourself away.”
Was that a note of worry? He shot her a grin and tossed the bottle in the air. “Oh, that horse has long ago left the barn, my sweet Nya.” He really did like her. If this went the way he expected, it would be a shame.
She rolled her eyes. “Please cease with your translated sayings. They never make sense.” Rounding the edge of the front counter, she perched on a tall stool. “Now. Shall we?”
“Yes.” He wove through the cases and shelves and placed the vial before her. A few beads of a silver-green substance rolled around in the bottom. No more than three inches long and slim, the clear plexi bore a distinct symbol—the double crescent and hook of the Aromachists’ Guild of Cularna, those who specialized in creating perfumes and scents—and below that, tiny but distinct, was the Drakes’ mark. Nya’s mark. “Explain this to me. Why would your mark be found on my planet, in my territory beside the body of one of my men?”
The color drained from her face, and she swallowed. With a trembling hand she lifted the vial and brought it closer to her face, examining the mark. “It is not mine.”
His hand closed around her wrist and tightened until he knew that, with a slight twist, he could snap her frail bones. “And that was your extra chance, Nya. The one you bought yourself by not allowing my lady’s scent to be sullied by that woman. You don’t get another.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, and he swallowed. He would not be swayed.
They remained in that position, unmoving, silent, caught in time, until finally Nya blinked, and a tear wound its way over the folds of her thin skin.
“It’s not my mark, Trev. But I know whose it is. I can’t belie—” A tufted dart appeared just below her chin. Trevon dropped to the floor. The shop’s counter blocked him from reaching Nya, and she slid from her stool, her head hitting the edge of the counter on her way down.
Fuck. His blood surged as he rolled behind the nearest case. The curtain leading to the rear work area swayed. Whoever had shot Nya was back there. Which meant they had been back there with her earlier. She knew who’d shot her and whose mark this was. And she was out of reach, hit by who knew what, and possibly concussed. Dammit.
He dove from his cover and rolled, using the momentum to take him to the front of the shop, where he could make his way around to the end of the counter and to Nya. Another dart hit the edge of the case next to his head, embedding itself in the wood there. He crawled, staying low, until he reached Nya. Blood pooled under her head, and her breathing was rapid and shallow.
“Trev.” Her whisper was no more than a sigh. “Sorry.”
He stroked a tendril of loosened hair from her eyes as he pulled out his comm with the other hand and hit a button that would summon emergency services. If he could get her to the healers fast enough… He wasn’t naïve enough to bank on that possibility though. “Who?”
Her lids fluttered, and her lungs stilled.
Fuck that. Keeping half his attention on the rear of the shop, he pinched Nya’s nose shut and breathed into her mouth. Once, twice. After the third, her next breath was her own. She pulled her eyes open and locked them on his. “Miyari. Follow the blue sce…”
She was gone again. And if he was to catch the person behind the curtain, he couldn’t linger. He knew this shop well. There were only two routes the attacker could take without going out the front. One was into the tunnels that lead to the Zeynar complex, and the other opened onto the back alley.
He commed his own guards. After this he would attempt not to complain about them. “Cover the back alley. Stop anyone attempting to leave. Any force is authorized, but stop short of death.”
He needed to get away from the counter. The back storerooms and workshop were a bit of a maze, but it was possible the attacker could work his way to the service area behind the main counter and come at him that way.
Shadows moved, and there was a sting on the exposed skin just above his collar bone. His vision blurred and swirled. Footsteps rang in his ears, and a dark figure knelt beside Nya’s body for a moment before rising and, pausing only long enough to unlock the door, striding out the front.
As his consciousness faded, Trevon locked onto two things. The name Nya had spoken—Miyari. And the fact that the guards had been useless after all.
Chapter 3
BLUE
The “place” Mo’ata knew was a café near the university district, situated on the top level of the building. Blue’s stomach twisted—that familiar wiggle worm of anxiety was back—as they rode the lift up. “The Talk” was coming. It needed to happen, more so since the encounter with Trevon. But the earlier peace of mind she’d found had also evaporated since that encounter.
Garfield pressed against her leg, offering comfort. Vivi, too, was pressed to Forrest in a similar pose. Pack not well?
Her mind froze. Words again. Of all the new things in her life, this was but a drop. And something much easier for her to deal with than thoughts of courting.
She sent her baby reassurance. We’ll make it well.
As they rose, her mind turned to making that happen. Which in
evitably led to Trevon.
“Courtship.” The word conjured up images of bouquets of posies, carriage rides, and walks along the beach or some such romantic thing. It also brought to mind enticing scents and a bottle she would occasionally pull out.
But she never wore it. That would have been too much of an admission. And she wasn’t ready for that. It would have created too much tension between her and Forrest, tension that they hadn’t needed, not with everything with Phillip. And, honestly, tension she didn’t want to deal with.
Forrest’s stony expression and silence told her it was time to deal.
The lift halted, and the doors opened. Blue’s breath left her.
The city was laid out before her. People crowded around tables scattered around the open expanse of the café, and beyond that, walls of glass offered an unimpeded view of the capitol building. Parks surrounded its golden and white walls, and then the buildings started again. From here they appeared silver, while transports and catwalks sparked in the sun like glitter.
Mo’ata guided her off the lift with a hand to her back. “The food is adequate. Most come here for the view. It’s one of the few places in the city that most people can get a view like this.”
There was a stiff note to his tone, and she twisted to look up at him. “Do you not like it here?”
“No,” he said, his gaze trained on the windows. “No, it is not that. I just… don’t normally have someone to share it with.”
She reached around and her back and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze, then turned her attention back to the view. “It’s beautiful.” Blue tore her gaze from the windows when she almost crashed into someone, despite Mo’ata’s guiding hand. “Sorry,” she said.
The man stared at her blankly, and she realized she’d spoken in English.
“Sorry,” she repeated in Common.
The stranger’s gaze roved over her, then landed on Mo’ata behind her. He sneered, and it only grew when he caught sight of Forrest and the cubs. He spat out a few words, too fast for her to catch. Mo’ata’s face flushed, and his eyes narrowed.
“You don’t speak about her like that,” he growled out in Common.
Blue froze as the cubs set up an answering yowl and Mo’ata dropped her hand to edge in front of her, just as he’d done with Trevon. He was being protective, but…
Where did this come from? This was not a Mo’ata she’d ever seen. Her Mo’ata was steady, a rock she could hold onto in chaos. He kept his head and spoke reason. Now he stared down at a man as though he wanted nothing more than to break something. Preferably the bones in the man’s face.
“Mo’ata?” She laid a hand on his back and sent soothing thoughts to the piquet. They quieted, but their gazes remained trained on the man and their fur raised. “Problem?” She made sure to speak in Common.
He rolled his shoulders back and stretched his neck. “No.” Then he turned and ushered her to a table on the other side of the dining area, close to a bank of windows that looked out over an expanse of green interspersed with stone outcrops and ponds. She could just make out a grid of fencing. And were those animals wandering?
“A zoo?” Yes, I’m deliberately distracting myself. And hopefully the others. When she didn’t get a response, she returned her attention to Mo’ata, who stared after the man, now exiting the café.
She sighed but noted that the cramps in her stomach were gone. Nothing like a confrontation to clear the nerves. Well, a confrontation that didn’t involve guys. Or, guys that she wasn’t involved with in some way, that was. “So, what was that?” she asked, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. Forrest joined her, and the cubs crowded under the table. She didn’t pick up anything from Garfield except curiosity now, his usual emotion.
Once the man was gone, Mo’ata took the seat next to her. “He had no right to say what he did.”
“What did he say?” She had a pretty good handle on basic Common by now, but she didn’t know any of the words the man had used. Which meant it was either not Common or it was slang—oh, or swear words. She should have taken Trevon up on his offer to teach her.
She dug around in her bag and pulled out her new notebook. The pen she’d gotten was interesting too. With a click she could change the ink’s color. Something about slight differences in the amperage of the electrical current reacting with nanoids. She just liked it because it reminded her of a set of shuttle-pens her dad had once gotten her.
Mo’ata shook his head. “It is not appropriate for you to hear. Let us order. And concentrate on what we came here to talk about.”
His words were calm, but steel threaded through them. He wasn’t going to budge on this right now. She exchanged a look with Forrest, who shrugged. His shoulders were tight though. The encounter had shaken him too, but he was taking Mo’ata’s lead.
Was it worth pushing? Today was about finding their balance together. She studied Mo’ata as he manipulated the screen embedded in the center of the table.
“All right,” she said, deciding to let it go for now. “So, what’s good here?”
Her clansman’s shoulders eased down. “There’s no stew, but they do have a nice soup. It’s a favorite on Cularna and has recently become popular here in the capital.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
“Any sandwiches?” Forrest leaned forward, peering at the screen. “What’s that?” He pointed. He was a lot farther than Blue in making progress with the written stuff.
“A sort of stuffed bread, baked. It is not bad. There are varieties. My favorite is the orinan—wild fowl and fela cheese.” Mo’ata’s fingers sped over the screen then he sat back. “The food will be brought out shortly.”
“Well then, shall we?” She tapped her pen on the first page.
Forrest’s hand covered hers. “No lists yet, pixie. Let’s just… talk. Okay?”
“I like lists.”
“I know.” He squeezed her fingers. “But for this, let’s just talk. As I said this morning, I need to know where I stand. And so do you. We all do. Then we can make all the lists you like. Things like who will do the dishes and a cooking schedule.” The pinched look returned.
She opened her mouth to reply, and he cut her off with a finger over her lips.
“Let me go first, okay?” He and Mo’ata exchanged a look, and the bigger man nodded. “I’ve said this, but with everything we’ve been through in the last couple of months, I feel like I need to say it again. I’m with you, pixie. I’m the first duckling in the line. I’m the one who followed you through a portal to another world. I’m your home, the safety line. And I’m okay with that. And I didn’t follow you to go on some grand adventure or on a whim. I followed you because I love you. No matter what. And no, this isn’t going to be easy. Love—life—never is. No one knows that more than me.” His gaze went distant as he drew in a breath.
His parents. Blue knew the story, a mother and father who’d loved each other, yet couldn’t manage to stay together. Not because they fought or couldn’t work out their differences. No, because they really could not manage to live in the same place. His mother needed to be around her family, and his father needed to be anywhere but around other people. From what Sheila had told her, the two of them had even remained faithful.
Yes, Forrest knew that love was never easy.
He focused on Blue once more. “I need you to know that. To trust me. And trust that no matter what, I’m with you. Partners, right?” Reaching up with his free hand, he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “And when you hold back, that’s what hurts. And I know you’re holding back. I’m not stupid or unobservant. I see the way you look at Levi, at Felix. Even at Jason and Zeynar. But you never talk with me about them, about what you may be feeling or not. So I’m crying coconut. Because that’s what I need.” He sat back. “Now you go.”
Blue swallowed as her tummy did the Macarena. She sought out Mo’ata and gave him a small smile. “Why is it easier to learn a whole new language or attack a crystal-wielding
maniac than it is to ‘talk’ sometimes?” Mo’ata gave her an answering smile and inclined his head in encouragement. “It’s easier for me to write things down.”
“I know. Still your turn,” Forrest said just as a woman approached with a tray of drinks. They waited as she set them on the table. “Now, go,” he said when she left.
Go, huh? Maybe it was time to spill. This was not going to be pretty. “Well… I love you, I do, but sometimes I wonder if it’s really possible to love more than one person. And then I wonder what the line is between love and lust because I know they’re not really the same thing. But how do you know what you’re feeling? I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever only been in lust before, at least I don’t think so. But I would know if it was just that, right? And when does liking move to love? Is it just a matter of degree of liking? And then there’s platonic love. How does that move to sexy love? And should it? Because I’ve found myself wondering about Levi ever since I saw his man nipples during training, but I’m not sure he feels the same about me. And Felix, well, I can’t really imagine him not being around, you know? But is that just… family love? How you move forward when you don’t even know what the other person thinks or feels? Then there’s Jason, who has always confused me. I’m going to a party with him. What does that even mean? Am I there as a friend? A date? And what was up with Trevon and courting? That’s what he said, that everything was even—I don’t think he meant the penny. He didn’t give it back, did he?” She paused and took a deep breath. They had said “go.”
Forrest shook his head, eyes wide and lips pressed together.
A Blue Star Rising Page 3
