by Laurie Roma
It hadn’t been visible from where he’d been standing, nor could it be seen from the sitting areas in the room. He had to be standing on the glass looking down at the frosted words engraved into the lower curve of glass to see exactly what it said. His throat closed, and his heart clenched as he read:
Dedicated in Memory of The Jubilant Crew
Always Remembered, Never Forgotten, Forever in Our Hearts
“Always remembered...” he whispered, re-reading the words that touched him beyond belief. “My stars.”
Even knowing that Roman avoided the observation deck, Maddox, Daimon, and Tavius Adaro had used the room to create a personalized memorial. Looking at the room with a new perspective, he could see the care put into each and every detail. It was beautiful, serene, meaningful, and few would ever know it even existed.
Curiosity had brought him there today, and fate or simple chance had allowed him to see what they had made. He wondered if his friends had ever planned on telling him about it, then quickly realized that they wouldn’t have. They hadn’t done it for recognition or gratitude, but they had both from him in deep and heartfelt thanks for the lovely tribute they had made in memory of his family.
The family he’d lost on New Year’s Day.
“I heard you were in here...pondering the universe.”
Roman took a deep, cleansing breath before turning to watch Daimon Adaro stalk into the room. Stalking was just how each of the Adaro brothers walked, as if they were always tracking prey, but there was also hesitation in Daimon’s steps.
Both males were tall, heavy with muscle, and had dark brown hair, but that was where the similarities ended. Like all of the Krytos, Daimon had black eyes, pronounced canine teeth, and the ability to shift into his battle form at will. He wore a dark-purple tunic, black leather pants, and black and silver boots that might have been fashionable if it weren’t worn mostly for their ass-kicking ability.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to find an adequate way to say this, so, thank you. Sincerely.” Roman was pleased that his own deep voice had remained steady as he spoke, and he touched his fingertips to the glass lightly to leave no doubt behind the meaning of his words.
“Yeah. Umm, sure.” Daimon stuck his hands in his pockets and shifted his stance. “You’re welcome. It’s nothing, really.”
“It’s far from nothing. It means worlds to me.”
The Krytos’ acute discomfort had him growling, “We just wanted to do something, okay? Now, leave it alone. This is making me feel like an asshole.”
That made Roman smile, and some of his tension lifted, leaving him feeling lighter. “I’ll spare you any more of my ardent gratitude.”
“Thank fuck.”
Roman chuckled, then looked around the room as he rubbed absently at the shorn hair he wore like his namesake, a soldier of old. “This really is pretty fucking fantastic, though. Has Adira seen this yet?”
Daimon shrugged. “Don’t know. She usually stays on level three when she visits.” His black eyes were searching as he studied Roman. “Normally, I would welcome you to New Vega, but I’m sorry you had to be here...especially today.”
His friend knew why he hated New Year’s and the beginning of the Baxxtora Tournament, as was evident by the room they were standing in, but it wasn’t something either of them had ever really spoken about before. It was just sort of understood.
The pain and guilt had faded, though, the memories remained...and always would. After the gift the Adaro brothers had given him, Roman felt like he was one step closer to finding that last bit of peace that had evaded him for all these years, all because he had avoided confronting these feelings on this particular day.
“I miss them. I’ve been putting off coming here for far too long. I thought being here today would bring it all back. And it does...sort of. But this, what you’ve done here, helps a great deal. It was time I faced this.”
“Time heals, and all of that shit.” Daimon glanced around, then he rocked back on the heels of his boots. “You know, sometimes I think I’m going to look over and see my uncles and aunt taking a walk, or my fathers and mother eating their evening meal together. It was many years ago that we lost them, but my brothers and I still miss them every day. I wish they could have met Mya. They would’ve loved her. I know death is part of life, but life sort of sucks when you aren’t a Dragon Warrior...or Xenon, apparently.”
“The Ministry of Nations meeting should definitely be interesting.”
“Hell, I still don’t even understand why you have to go to this damn thing.”
“The council chose me to mediate the meeting since I know most of the chancellors. They believe I have a better chance at getting through this without bloodshed. We want a peaceful meeting of the minds, and that’s only going to be possible if someone is there to make sure that happens. Besides, no one else wanted to go, and as the youngest regent on the council, I got the short end of this shit stick.”
“Yeah, you did. What, less than a dozen people can’t sit in a damn room without a babysitter?”
“Are you kidding? Several of these races have never sat down to discuss political matters with humans before...or discussed it at all, for that matter.” Roman sighed again. “It might go well. Then again, this could also turn into all-out war.”
“Do you really think it will come to that?”
“No,” Roman answered honestly. “I just hope this fucking thing doesn’t explode in our faces.”
“It’s just funny that they chose you. You’re as neutral as a tank, but I can see why they would want some muscle in the room.”
“Thanks...I think.”
“You’re welcome,” Daimon said with a laugh. “I’m glad my brother is representing my race. Tavius is better suited to the task than any other Krytos. I don’t think I could stand going to a meeting that lasts days, and Maddox would probably kill someone if he was forced to discuss politics for that long.”
“You’re probably right about Maddox, and I know it’s good that Tavius is going, but you would make a better chancellor than you give yourself credit for.”
“Hell, no. The very thought might give me nightmares, you bastard. Still, I’m very glad you’re taking Jax away from New Vega.”
Roman grinned. “Tired of your new brother already?”
“We had to convert Mya to save her life,” Daimon growled, mentioning his new mate, who also happened to be Regent Ian Spartan’s daughter and High Commander Jax Spartan’s sister. No one had expected Mya to mate three Krytos brothers, but the only person who still hadn’t accepted it was Jax. “Jax won’t get off our asses about it, and if he doesn’t get off our ship soon, I might just kill him. And if I don’t, Maddox or Tavius will.”
“Mya’s fathers and mother love you guys. After the shit that went down here when Quilla released the Genesis Project drug, they were just happy that Mya survived, no matter what race she is now. And I got the impression Ian likes having the three of you for sons. Gives him a measure of control over you now.”
Daimon snorted. “Not fucking likely.”
“You say that, but you aren’t going to do anything that would piss off Mya’s mother and fathers. Particularly, her mother. If you did that, your life wouldn’t be worth living,” Roman warned, knowing from experience.
“True. I like all three of them, and my mate is very close to her parents. I think they will give us a measure of latitude since we’ve run New Vega for many years now, and we have always done as we please. We all want what is best for Mya, but they no longer have the greatest influence over her. Nor do her brothers. We are closest to her now, although, our mate knows her own mind. We’re just along for the ride.” Daimon paused before adding, “Just don’t tell her that.”
“I won’t since I know the feeling,” Roman promised with a laugh.
Daimon nodded soberly. “I know, and I will be forever grateful to have Mya.”
Since the love Daimon felt for his mate was practically pourin
g out of him, Roman smiled. He was pleased that the Adaro brothers had found love. Especially Daimon since he was much less social than Maddox and Tavius...usually. Today seemed to be an anomaly of sorts since Daimon was quite chatty.
“Have you met her other brother yet?”
“Talon? Yeah, he’s been here over the years, but I’ve only spoken to him a few times. He’s not exactly the friendly sort, and he hasn’t come to visit since we contacted him. He is out with his Strike Force Team doing...whatever they do.”
“He’s on a covert team.”
“We figured. He didn’t seem too pleased to hear that we mated his sister, though, he wasn’t as annoyed as Jax. That one is seriously getting on my nerves.”
“Were you expecting anything less?”
Humor lit Daimon’s dark gaze. “No, but that doesn’t mean I have to make it any easier on him. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Then I’m hitting the good stuff.”
“We don’t carry anything else.”
“Bullshit,” Roman countered with a laugh. “But I’ll still let you talk me into going to Sanctum for the feast.”
“Ah...I wasn’t sure you knew about the meal yet.”
As they started out of the room, Roman smirked at him. “What, were you just going to try to trick me into attending the New Year’s Day celebration you guys hold in Sanctum every year?”
Rubbing at the back of his neck, Daimon cleared his throat. “Sort of.”
At the entrance, Roman paused and turned back to take one last glance at the memorial. “I think they would have loved this space. Thank you.”
With a curt nod, Daimon said, “I’ll let my brothers know.”
Which was Krytos code for none of them had to speak of it ever again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Doesn’t that get annoying?”
Roman glanced over at Daimon as they walked through the crowd on the main level of New Vega. Well, not through, exactly. The crowd parted, and people practically dove out of the way for the two males as they made their way to the glides that led down to the lower levels.
Usually, the main floor was filled with people, especially where the lobby opened up into the shopping pavilion. However, visitors and residents alike were busy with family, or at the fights in the ballrooms located at the far end of the vessel. There were still enough shops and restaurants open throughout the five tiers to have gathered a crowd, and the celebratory atmosphere was only intensified by the yards of streamers and lights that hung down from the high ceiling. More were wound around golden banisters so that the entire area was a festive display of color.
“Doesn’t what get annoying?”
“That,” Daimon answered as he jerked his head toward four elites that had come to attention. In unison, they saluted by slapping their fists onto their chests over their hearts. It didn’t matter that two of them had glazed eyes that spoke of too much alcohol, all four stared at Roman with admiration and a healthy dose of fear.
Roman saluted back, but kept going, making sure he was a safe distance away before he rolled his eyes. “It comes with the job.”
“You’re bad for business, Regent,” Daimon muttered as they passed another group of elites that stopped what they were doing to salute.
“Exactly how am I doing that? I haven’t even spoken to anyone besides you the entire way down.”
Daimon raised a brow. “You do it just by walking around here in the black and red.”
Of course, it was his freaking uniform.
All Alliance officers wore the standard uniform of a steel-gray jacket with off-center zipper, black sleeves and regulation black pants and boots. For many years, Roman had roamed Alliance-controlled space in the black uniform with white sleeves of a high commander, and even with the rank, people thought of him as one of them.
But as a regent, they kept their distance.
Roman wore a black uniform with red sleeves and a single metal star on his short collar. When he had been a lower ranked elite, he had jumped to attention whenever he saw the red sleeves that signified the highest status within the Alliance. It had been ingrained in him from years of duty. Nevertheless, he had forgotten that he could put an entire room on guard just by being in it, and he still hadn’t gotten used to the separation between him and the officers.
The promotion had been an honor, and he had high hopes in persuading the council to change laws that would benefit elites and citizens alike. Since most of them had served on the council for years, several of the regents had forgotten what it was like to be an officer. Roman believed that those officers deserved a voice in the governing of the Alliance, and he had promised himself he would do what he could to make that happen.
That didn’t mean those officers weren’t scared shitless of him.
“I’m not the reason that group of Helios ran away from us,” Roman said, mentioning three Helios males they had seen limping out of the med-center a few minutes ago.
Daimon smirked. “So, I growled at them. From the looks of it, Maddox had a little temper tantrum earlier, but they got off easy. If I’d had to deal with them instead of my brother, they wouldn’t be walking right now.”
“Were they repeat offenders?”
Daimon shrugged. “I’m sure I will know who they are by the end of the day.”
That sounded like a promise that would end up hurting those Helios more than they had anticipated, Roman thought. Glancing up at the shopping pavilion, he cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Speaking of problems, I think you might have something going on up there.”
Daimon followed his gaze, then growled viciously, startling several people nearby. “Damn it! Gavrek! Grab those stupid sons of bitches before they damage that banister!”
Before he was finished speaking, several New Vega security officers sprang into action, jumping on the three Krytos males that had been using small handheld lasersaws to carve chunks out of the golden banisters that enclosed each tier of the shopping pavilion. The offenders tried to run but were quickly caught and disarmed, forcefully.
“Real fucking gold everywhere is more trouble than it’s worth. Damn Dragon Warriors...stupid magic...” Daimon’s rant trailed off into incomprehensible growls.
Reaching out, Roman tapped a hand on the gold railing that surrounded a potted tree with white leaves. Instead of the hollow tone he had expected, his knuckles hit dense metal, making him chuckle. “Solid. Shit, there is a lot of gold in here. No wonder you have so much security running around today.”
“It’s not funny,” Daimon snapped.
That just made Roman laugh more, but he quickly sucked in a harsh breath and tried not to wince as a Krytos security officer threw one of the belligerent offenders off the fourth level. He screamed the whole way down, but never hit the ground. Instead, a D’Aire security officer released his wings and launched himself into the air, catching the offender mid-fall by one leg. The D’Aire gave him a good shake that had silverware, handfuls of gambling chips, and several pieces of jewelry falling from their hiding places inside the male’s jacket.
“Hey, that’s my wrist unit!”
“That fork almost hit me!”
Others in the crowd gasped in delight, clapping at the impromptu show.
“May the gods pity me, I will kill them all.” Daimon sighed and started to stalk away, potentially going to make good on that promise. He’d only gotten two steps before he turned back. “I’ve got to go take care of these assholes.” He paused, and a mischievous gleam flashed in his black eyes. “I can send an officer over to escort you downstairs. We even have a few former elites on staff who can salute you, for old time’s sake.”
Deadpan, Roman said, “Suck me.”
Laughing, Daimon shoved some gawkers out of his way before he disappeared into the crowd that had gathered.
Crazy Krytos.
A few months ago, that kind of comment would have earned Roman a punch to the arm, at least. Daimon had mellowed out since
he’d mated Mya. Not that Roman had any intention of mentioning that little fact.
Leaving the chaos behind, he took the glide down one level to where Sanctum was located. Many of the sublevels had been decorated to resemble shadowy alleyways, like something found in a gothic story from long ago of another time and place. Cobblestone lined the floors, and dim lamplight shined from fixtures designed to look like torches. He didn’t understand the appeal, but dozens of people seemed to enjoy the dark atmosphere.
Off to the right, Sanctum’s black marble sign with glowing purple backlight was a beacon in the gloom. Before he got off the glide, he realized he was walking into another commotion, this time in the form of a crowd gathered around four elites making fools of themselves right in front of Sanctum’s double doors.
Four elites were fighting about something, and the obviously drunk men were hurling slurred insults at one another. Two of the elites had gotten close enough to do a little chest bumping before they dragged each other to the ground. They didn’t grapple. They just rolled around a bit and shouted in each other’s faces.
The other two men circled each other on unsteady feet, fists up in pitiful excuses of fighting stances. The crowd cheered as a few punches were thrown, but nothing really connected. At least the elites weren’t in peril of breaking the sanctuary’s policies by fighting inside. That didn’t mean they were clear of New Vega or Alliance rules, though, they’d have to actually land a blow or two in order to be in danger of that.
For fuck’s sake, the four elites were not only making fools of themselves...they were embarrassing their uniforms, him, and the entire Alliance.
Adding to the ridiculous situation were the two Krytos bouncers watching the fight with twin gleams of anticipation. Both males were younger, and their lack of experience showed as one leaned on one of the doors while the other stood with his arms crossed facing the fight. Roman didn’t recognize them, but he did notice that the double doors had been left wide open and unguarded so neither male spotted the D’Aire male and a Helios female stroll into the sanctuary hand-in-hand without pause.
