by Pearl Foxx
“Watching it won’t change what’s happening.”
Hollywood slid the two whiskeys down the bar. They stopped neatly in front of Tane without an errant splash. He passed one to Kinyi and lifted his at her before taking a sip.
Glowering, Kinyi picked up her glass. After considering the amber liquid for a beat, she upended the glass and swallowed the contents in one easy swig. The men around her cheered and slapped the bar. She slammed the glass down and blinked at Tane, her eyes not even watering.
The ice queen was back.
“Another,” he told Hollywood.
He lost count of how many shots Kinyi put back, but by the time he collected her from her stool and half carried her downstairs to the fights, she was warm liquid against his side, her head on his shoulder, her arm twined around his waist.
“I’m flying,” she slurred, giggling. “Am I flying?”
“You’re walking and those are steps so pick up your feet.” The basement door slammed shut behind them, casting them in the semi-darkness of the stairwell.
Downstairs, the fights were just ramping up, with the lightweights entertaining the early crowd before they got to the real fights on the card.
“I think I could fly if I really tried. You know, it’s not fair that only males get wings. That’s really fucked up. It pisses me off.”
“Everything pisses you off.” He gave up trying to guide her down the stairs and lifted her with one arm around her waist.
“I would look good with wings.”
There was a sadness in her voice that he didn’t like, and for the first time, he considered what it was like for the Draqon females to not be able to shift and fly. He hadn’t taken to the sky for so long he couldn’t remember what it felt like to have air whisking over his hard scales, to feel his wings pumping against the wind currents, to feel his blood singing with fire.
He shuddered.
“You look good in everything,” he said to distract himself.
“Holy shit.” She craned her neck back to look up at him, her grin sloppy. “Was that an actual compliment?”
“No.” He jerked open the basement door and stepped into the chaos surrounding the first few fights on the card tonight.
He quickly scanned the room, but even the cursory glance told him everything he needed to know about the crowd. He’d gotten good at reading the men and women who betted on the fights each night. How much they drank, how loud they were, how rowdy they were. Were the waitresses in a hurry, avoiding certain people, or laid back and enjoying the easy flow of tips? Were his men working extra hard to keep extracurricular fights outside the ring under control?
He took it all in with one glance while keeping Kinyi on her feet. Even half incapacitated and lilting in his arms, she drew the eyes of plenty of men. He glared at them all. The predatory instinct to snap their necks coiled tightly in his throat. His arm tightened around her waist.
“You’re going to squeeze me in two. You should smile more often. I bet you have a nice smile.”
He glowered at her. “You’re one to talk, Ice Queen. Have you ever smiled in your life?”
“I smile all the time!”
“Not that cocky, mocking grin. A real smile.”
Her nose wrinkled in thought. “I would smile more real smiles if everyone would stop acting too stupid to deserve the mocking ones.”
He laughed before he realized what he was doing. “Good point.”
He threaded his way around the cage and straight to the back offices. A new cyborg employee whose name Tane couldn’t remember opened the door for them, his wide eyes on Kinyi. Tane gritted his teeth and walked her through the doorway. They went straight to his office, and he poured her into the seat across from his desk.
Instantly, she kicked her feet up and reclined, letting her head loll back and exposing a delicious amount of neck and chest.
She was such a sight that Tane forgot to knock her boots off his desk before he took his own seat. Keeping one eye on her, he fired up his vidscreen and went straight to the news sites—the real ones that reported facts and not just propaganda from the American Corporation.
The reports offered more insight into what had happened. Instead of a mass alien attack, the sites reported just one, a fire-breathing dragon from an unknown planet. There were even a few blurry pictures. Tane instantly recognized a Draqon’s form. A large male with purple scales and a mate on his back.
“Kinyi.”
She let out a soft snore.
He slapped his desk. “Kinyi!”
Shooting up in the chair, she glanced around. “What?”
“Didn’t you say the Draqon that was on the station was unmated?”
“Did I? I said he struggled with the madness, not that he wasn’t mated.”
Tane sighed. He swiveled the vidscreen around to face her so she could see the picture of the Draqon flying with his caramel-haired female. “He looks mated to me and perfectly in control of his madness.”
Kinyi sat forward, frowning. “Well, I’ll be damned. Looks like Maxsym was busy.”
Her eyes darkened as she stared at the picture a beat longer. Something Tane couldn’t identify passed across her face. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was sadness. “What is it?” he asked her.
She clenched her jaw and sat back, averting her eyes from the screen. “Does everyone have a mate now? What the hell is going on?”
“Jealous?”
Her gaze jerked back to him. “No! Of course not. It was just a comment. I don’t want a mate. Never have.”
“Sure.”
“I said,” she growled, almost spitting, “I don’t want a mate.”
Her anger was instant. It always hovered in her peripheral, waiting for the exact moment she needed it. He realized then that it was her shield. And he would bet it had kept most people far, far away, which was likely its exact purpose. But it had to be lonely to always be scaring people away. He would be willing to bet that the instinct to reach for her anger was so ingrained she probably didn’t even realize she did it anymore. She would have no idea why people ran from her, why no one got too close. They were terrified of her rage, and she had no clue.
“Okay,” he said calmly. He swiveled the vidscreen back toward him, closed down the news sites, and opened up the camera feeds of the fights.
He pretended to stare at his screen while he watched Kinyi simmer. Her fingers twitched at an erratic beat, her foot jigging against the floor. A muscle twitched in her jaw. After a moment of silence, she jerked unsteadily to her feet.
He thought she might leave, but she prowled around the edge of the desk. He looked up as she closed in on him. He knew that look in her eyes. He held up his hand. “Kinyi, you’re drunk.”
“So what?” she slurred, still advancing on him.
“So, you’re not thinking clearly. You’re pissed about your ship. We’ll get it figured out.”
With one pull, she spun his chair toward her. She crawled into his lap and straddled his hips, her arms threading around his neck. Her breath was as sweet as the whiskey she’d drowned her liver in as she said, “You’re incredibly sexy for an asshole, do you know that?”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Your bedroom talk could use some work, but thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She lowered her mouth to his, and she should have been too drunk to kiss so well. She worked magic inside his mouth with her tongue. He leaned back, his hands on her waist, his fingers a breath away from the swell of her ass. She rocked against him, stroking herself over his lap. His already hardening cock jumped at the heat between her legs, and she moaned her approval of his readiness. She reached between them and ran her hand down the outside of his pants, rubbing his length.
He’d lost complete track of time since she’d started kissing him, but he knew he’d allowed it to go on far longer than he should have. He put his hands on her hips and pushed her back, turning his face away from her kiss.
&
nbsp; “What?”
There was her anger again, always ready.
“You’re drunk.”
“So?” she snapped.
“So, I like my women coherent when I fuck them. Not sloppy.”
Her eyes sparked with fire. “I am not sloppy.”
“But you are very drunk.”
“I don’t see the problem.”
“Because you’re drunk.” He picked her up by her hips and planted her on her feet.
For a moment, she stood there, looking lost and confused. Then realization dawned on her face, and she glared at him. “Do you have a mate too, then? Some human female you prefer?”
He felt sorry for the bastard who had rejected her for a human woman. He doubted Kinyi had let the male off easy for the slight. “No. You wouldn’t have been on my lap if I had a female.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, swaying slightly. She wanted to yell and shout, but she couldn’t find anything to argue over. Her face was pale, the skin beneath her eyes a bruised purple. The scales on her face were mostly healed. By tomorrow, they would be back, and she’d have to rip them off again. The thought made him sick. He wanted to see them first, to know her colors.
“You should go to sleep,” he said. “There’s a cot in Chance’s office you can use.”
“I don’t want to sleep. I need to get off this planet.”
Standing up, he took her arm because she looked ready to fall over. He doubted she knew how much she was leaning against him, how much of her weight he had to support. She was practically dead on her feet. “Go rest. I’ll look into getting your ship back.”
She blinked and struggled to open her eyes again. “You … I can’t …” She paused, thinking hard. “I need a ship.”
“I know.” He bent down and swept her knees out from under her, catching her cleanly with his other arm. In one breath, she was against his chest. Her head fit perfectly in the nook between his shoulder and chest. “But first you’re going to sleep.”
She stared up at him, her lips slightly parted. “Okay.”
Chapter Nine
Kinyi
When Kinyi woke, her mouth tasted like Skax shit.
Groaning, she rolled over and nearly toppled straight off the narrow cot. Even though she was squinting into the darkened room, her head pounded relentlessly. She felt like she’d taken a hard blow to the head, but she couldn’t remember fighting last night.
Actually, now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember much at all about last night.
She sat up on the cot and put her head in her hands so she could hold her brain still enough to think. She remembered her ship. Fuck, her ship. Those little bastards. Just thinking of their grubby masks and tiny hands had her wanting to puke. After running them off and realizing she wasn’t going home anytime soon, she’d come back to the Ball & Joint with Tane.
“Oh,” she muttered, understanding now.
Whiskey was the cause of her current state. The human alcohol had tasted sweet and spread warmth through her belly. It had reminded her of the cider brewed at the hive, and the longing to go home had been so strong she’d had to keep drinking to dim the ache.
Home. She had no way to get there. They could need her right now. War could be tearing her hive apart, killing her people, decimating her planet. And she was stuck here. On Earth. With the very humans responsible for the destruction.
A whimper lodged in the back of her throat, threatening to escape. Her eyes burned. A tremble she couldn’t stop started in her fingertips. She clenched her fists, her teeth grinding so hard she heard her teeth chipping. A tear welled in the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. She glared at the floor, shaking all over, and felt the traitorous drop of liquid quivering at the edge of her chin. It fell free, and she watched it splash against the dirty concrete at her feet.
“Fuck,” she hissed, hating her situation, hating herself, hating Tane, hating Zayd. Just hating.
Because hate felt good, and she needed to feel something good.
The rage burned a clear path through her hazy head. She might not have her ship, but she could find one. She couldn’t fly it, but she could get a comm back to the hive and have the Vilkas help her program a path back to Kladuu. She could do it. She wasn’t stranded. She wasn’t.
She surged to her feet, ready to tackle the problem. Dizziness overtook her, and she barely reached the wastebasket before she puked up every bit of the whiskey and food she’d had yesterday.
When she was empty and dry-heaving, she rocked back on her heels and wiped her mouth.
The office door opened as she was catching her breath. Chance took a step inside and instantly wrinkled his nose. “Ah, man. That sucks.”
“I’m okay,” Kinyi said, blinking to clear the white spots from her vision.
“No, I mean for me. My office will smell like vomit for days.”
She slowly stood, careful to ensure she wouldn’t fall in front of the cyborg. When she was certain she had her balance, she looked up at him and tried on her best glare. “In that case, you can clean it up. Where’s Tane?”
“Wrapping up the cuts.”
Kinyi gave a sharp nod and strode toward the door, hoping she looked more stable than she felt. As she went to pass Chance, he touched her arm.
She jerked to a stop, her gaze snaking toward him.
He pointed at her face. “You might want to take care of those before you go walking around out there.”
Frowning, she ran her fingers across her face. A hard edge bit into her skin, then the cool surface of a scale.
“Shit,” she hissed, feeling at least five more up the side of her face. She dropped her hand, her attention on Chance.
He held up his hands. “Look, we don’t ask questions around here. Tane has been a good boss and friend to me. I don’t take that lightly. If you’re with him, then I’m with you. There’s a mirror across the hall in the bathroom. You’ll find a med kit in there as well.”
Kinyi stared at him a moment longer, weighing his words. But he just returned her look, his expression unchanging. She didn’t want to trust him. Every part of her body screamed he was human. He was the enemy. But her eyes trailed down to his cybernetic arm, to the metallic joints and soft glow flowing through the metal. He’d been through some shit. The remnants of it had roughened his voice and deepened the lines around his mouth.
Perhaps, just this once, she could accept the help offered. Take the kindness.
She brought her eyes back to his and nodded. She couldn’t say the words to thank him, but he seemed to get it. A warrior’s understanding. She went around him and stepped into the hall with a quick glance both ways, and hurried into the small bathroom.
After locking the door behind her, she turned on the light, which was nothing more than a bare bulb wired into the wall above a narrow vanity and a chipped mirror that hadn’t seen a cleaning substance in years. She wrinkled her nose as she scanned the stained floors, the yellowed toilet, the overflowing trashcan. It smelled like good intentions came to this bathroom to die.
Males, she thought, are so disgusting.
She turned on the water and rinsed her mouth. She scrubbed her teeth with her finger until she couldn’t taste the sickness anymore. After that, she washed her face, letting the icy water blast away the last cobwebs in her mind. When she straightened and looked long and hard at her reflection, water streaming down her face, she noted the bloodshot eyes, the dark circles beneath them, and the crystal blue scales along the side of her face.
Aside from looking like complete shit, it was a reflection she recognized. Without her scales, she’d felt lost and off balance. But she felt better now. Steadier. So, it cramped her stomach to reach for the med kit and sort through the unorganized contents until she found a scalpel and tweezers. She readied a packet of gauze to clean up the blood. She knew from experience that when torn from the flesh, scales tended to leave deep wounds that could bleed for hours.
She raised the sha
rp, gleaming metal to her face, aligning it with the edge of the first scale. She’d cut deep enough to wedge the tweezers beneath the scale, then she’d tear it from her skin in one jerk.
It would be better than last time. Easier. Quicker. It wouldn’t hurt as much, she told herself.
It was a lie.
The door rattled behind her, and then there was a scraping noise. It swung open, and Tane stepped inside. He quickly closed the door behind him.
Kinyi swung around and looked up at him. “What the hell? I locked that!”
He held up a small metal device. “I have the key. What are you doing?”
The bathroom was far too small for both of them. She could barely breathe. His warrior’s scent took up all the extra space around her, stifling her, suffocating her with its strength. Something deep and primal in her belly tightened. He smelled right.
His eyes went from the knife in her hand to her face. The muscles along his jaw flexed. “Don’t do that.”
The anger in his voice pulled her from the train of thought his scent had sparked in her. “I have to. I can’t walk around with scales on my face.”
“It’s not right.”
Kinyi’s rage lashed like a whip. “Not right?” she growled. She closed the fractional space between them and glared up at Tane. “It’s not right? What about you? What about you being here when your people are up there fighting for their lives? Is that right? Is that okay?”
Her voice grew thicker as she spoke, and she felt that horrible, terrible, awful burning sensation in her eyes. But she would not cry in front of him. She would not.
“Kinyi—”
He reached for her, but she slapped his hand away. “You’re clearly not coming with me. I’ve already failed them enough. I have to get home. I have to help them. I have to.” Her cheeks were wet, and she tasted salt on her lips. “Maxsym obviously screwed up on the space station. Gideon is missing and likely on Kladuu. There are traitors on our planet, do you get that? He could be working with all the Hylas. And we need those relics. Kids are getting trapped in their second forms. Parents will lose their children without that medicine. And Gideon will take it all. The Hylas will sell it all. Don’t you see? We’re fucking dying, and you’re here. You’re not even trying to get home. And I’m stuck with you. I’m stuck and I can’t … I can’t … I just …” Her breathing hitched in her chest until she was panting and going dizzy from the lack of air. “I just … need to get home.”
