by Laurie Roma
For security purposes, the Krytos males sucked at their jobs.
Doing his own bit of shoving, Roman jumped off the glide and cut through the crowd of people. He let out a bitter curse and waded in, ready to put a stop to the absurd display. Yell or smash heads, he briefly considered before deciding on a third option. He reached out and grabbed one of the men. Instead of slamming his fist into the younger soldier’s face like he wanted to, he simply tossed him out of the way, not caring when the elite flew into several of the crowd members.
It served them right for standing around watching like a bunch of assholes.
His boot connected with one or both of the bodies rolling around on the floor, and he gave them a hard shove rather than stomping on them like he wanted to. Unfortunately, that small bit of mercy caused a chain reaction that ended with Roman getting hit by the only decent punch in the entire clusterfuck.
The last elite standing had frozen in place, face pale with recognition as he gaped at Roman. Because he wasn’t paying attention to the pair on the floor, he couldn’t avoid the collision when they broke apart, and one of them slammed into his legs. He was launched forward just as Kahla Adaro, one of the owners of the sanctuary and Maddox, Daimon, and Tavius’ cousin, walked out of the bar.
Kahla didn’t see the attack coming until it was too late to get out of the way. Impact was inevitable. The elite’s fists were aimed at her face, but not by choice, and by his horrified expression, he knew he was looking his own death in the face. Roman threw himself between them, hoping to spare her from getting hit. He winced in pain but remained unmoved when the elite crashed into him, and the smaller officer bounced back, crumpling to the ground in a heap with the other men.
At the same time, Kahla’s fist slammed into his shoulder. Unlike the elites, she knew how to hit what she aimed for, and the impact knocked him back a full step. Fucking hell, that was going to leave a mark, but he’d been lucky. If that powerful punch had been aimed better, it could have stopped his heart. He’d walked right into it, and he knew better. Playing around with the other races, even a Krytos who had been a friend for years, could have deadly consequences if they were caught off guard.
Talk about putting his day into perspective.
Fortunately for him, he saved himself more pain by catching her knee before it made contact with his groin.
“What the—oh, shit! Roman!”
Kahla backpedaled, which wasn’t a normal action for her. She would have tripped over the men on the ground if Roman hadn’t grabbed her forearm, holding her in place. He gently moved her out of the way, then turned to let out a roar worthy of a Krytos.
“Enough!”
Seriously, had everyone lost their fucking minds?
There was a beat of silence, and everyone froze in place. A single heartbeat turned into two, then the crowd scattered. Roman reached down and grabbed the closest elite by the back of his uniform, then chose the one who’d passed out and decided to take a nap on the floor, lifting both of men off their feet in an impressive feat of strength. It wasn’t about showing off, though. It was about doing a little cleanup.
“Hey! Let go—”
Roman shook both of them hard in warning, not caring who the speaker was. “Quiet.”
The other two elites stood quickly, staring at Roman with wide, terrified eyes. Both of them stood at attention, and slapped their fists over their hearts before saying, “Sir!”
He barely spared them a glance before he turned back to Kahla. “You okay?”
She bit at her lower lip, fangs showing as she nodded. “I should be the one asking you. Sorry I hit you.” When he just grunted in response, she turned on the two Krytos bouncers. “And what the fuck are you two doing? If you’re done playing with your dicks, why don’t you take care of these assholes for the regent.”
“Wait—did you say “regent?”” Since Roman had been holding onto the back of his uniform, the elite didn’t see him until he practically choked himself out by turning around to get a good look. “Oh, shit,” he gasped, then hurried to say, “I mean, I’m sorry, sir. There is no excuse for my—our behavior.”
“No, there isn’t.” Roman’s voice was cold as ice as he tossed the men he was holding at the pale-faced Krytos bouncers. He folded his arms across his chest and glared. “I want names, then I want you to explain yourselves. Now.”
All four soldiers spoke over each other as they rushed to answer. When they told him that they were from Beta Station 1, he barely held back his sigh...it figured. There was something a little off about some of the soldiers from the Beta Stations.
Maybe it was the oxygen levels.
He had to piece together their explanations, but from what he deduced, they had gotten eliminated from the tournament earlier. They were friends, so they’d started on a good drunk together, but it had escalated into being pissy about the matches they’d lost, how unfair the judges were, and personal flaws they’d somehow never noticed about each other before today.
“Med-center or holding cells?” Kahla’s eyes narrowed. “Or would you like me to remind them why it’s stupid to fight in front of a sanctuary?”
Roman wanted to tell her to boot them out of an airlock for being stupid, but that wouldn’t be very regent-y of him. Beating the crap out of them to teach them a lesson wouldn’t be either, but that idea had its appeal.
“I’m going to have them escort you to the med-center to take care of those cuts and bruises. If you cause any more trouble, I will personally make you wish I handed you over to the Krytos for punishment instead. Clear?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Good, and for fuck’s sake, learn how to throw a proper punch.” Roman waited until the bouncers led the four elites away to say, “Stars, that was embarrassing to watch.”
“I didn’t see all of it, but yeah, that really was,” Kahla agreed. “Why were they rolling around on the floor?”
Roman sighed. “I have no idea. I swear, it’s like everyone has gone crazy today.”
“Holidays are always like this, but nothing could compare to last night. It’s a good thing this vessel is practically bomb proof now.”
“Too bad the banisters upstairs aren’t.”
Kahla laughed. “Oh, yeah. My cousins really love that little gift.” Sobering quickly, she winced. “I can’t say they would be very happy if they heard I hit a regent, even if it was just you. Stars, that came out wrong.”
“I understand. Nice follow-through with the knee. Glad that one didn’t connect.” Roman grinned at her. “And it’s not the first time I’ve been hit by you.”
A hint of mischief gleamed in her black eyes. “Yeah, you’re the one who taught me a good punch starts in my feet.”
“At least you remembered your training.”
It shamed him to realize that he hadn’t just given up the Baxxtora Tournament when he’d quit. Roman also stopped training others, which he used to love. He liked sharing his knowledge and learning from others, and he enjoyed the camaraderie, but over the past several years, his workouts had shifted from gratifying to basic discipline.
He’d been punishing himself in ways he hadn’t even realized.
“I really am sorry for striking you,” she said again. “And thanks for saving me from getting hit by the flying idiot. Those guys were loud and drunk, but they were harmless. When the bartender told them to shut it, they left on their own, so we didn’t think—”
“They were the ones who weren’t thinking.” Roman patted her shoulder. “And I’ll deal with them if they cause any more trouble.”
He held a hand out to gesture Kahla back into the bar in front of him. She had thanked him and apologized...twice. That wasn’t normal. Neither was her lack of attitude. What was going on with her? Kahla was usually so vibrant and full of energy. He’d seen a glimmer of it, but there was a sadness in her gaze that he’d never seen before.
They’d only made it a few feet when she came to a stop with a heavy sigh, and he saw the reason
for her weariness. Kahla’s oldest cousin, Maddox, stood in their path. Dressed all in black from his hair down to his boots, he wore a matching dark expression that would have made lesser beings run in the opposite direction.
Maddox was the alpha of the Adaros, though, he shared the title and responsibilities with Daimon and Tavius in the eyes of their crew. Still, among family, he was their leader in every way. Though, that didn’t seem to matter to Kahla, who was glaring at her cousin as if she were trying to win some sort of contest between them. Roman gave her a little push to get her moving again and was grateful she didn’t take a swipe at him for it.
“What the fuck happened out there?”
Roman wasn’t bothered by Maddox’s less than cordial greeting. He returned it with a raised brow. “Let’s have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”
“I wasn’t talking to you—yet. What did you do now, Kahla?”
“So, you just assume it’s my fault?”
Roman found the tension and simmering anger hovering around them interesting, but he stepped in front of Maddox and lowered his voice. “They were elites, so it was my deal. And you’re going to want to check your tone.”
“My cousin doesn’t need your protection.”
Kahla pushed forward and snarled, “Your cousin is going to kick your ass. I told you to stop sneaking into the sanctuary using my entrance.”
“I’m not sneaking anywhere. Besides, it’s my damn vessel. I go wherever I want.”
“Not in my bar, you don’t. And the entrance is hidden in my quarters, which means you went in after I forbid you. Again! The damn thing isn’t going to remain a secret if you keep using it all the time. And how the hell did you get past the blocks on my door?”
He smirked. “Like that could stop us.”
She threw her hands up. “What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? Why are you acting so weird? You’ve been in a mood for weeks. Are you still mad you weren’t chosen as chancellor for the meeting? We—”
“I never said I wanted to go to the damn meeting! By the gods, I can’t even speak to you...you, jektza.” Her chin jerked up, and her fierce expression softened slightly when she smiled at Roman. “Excuse me, I have work to do before the feast.” With that, she stormed toward the bar area, then disappeared into the hallway that led to the kitchen.
Oh, shit.
If Kahla was busting out the harsh Krytos word for someone with no intellect, it was a clear sign she was really pissed about something.
“Holy nova, she’s really angry.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Maddox growled. “For fuck’s sake, I need a drink. Pick a table, and I’ll be back.” He continued muttering to himself as he stomped away.
Roman shook his head as he watched Maddox shove a few people out of his way near the long bar. Turning away, he made his way to a booth in the back area, choosing one that was surrounded by empty tables. There was a soft purple glow coming from the black squares all over the ceiling that matched the cube tables that were scattered between comfortable black leather chairs and couches, many of which were occupied by couples or groups of people.
Music played over the speakers, but it had been lowered to a sociable sound rather than the loud disruption of hard, throbbing techno beats that usually played. The large dancefloor remained free of its usual crowd, and with no footsteps to activate the glowing amethyst light, the floor remained dark.
Later, the bar would be packed with friends and family for the feast. The party would continue into the early hours of the morning, and the bar portion of the sanctuary would be closed the following day to give them all time to recover. Years ago, they had held the dinner upstairs in one of the lounge areas, but as the core group grew, they’d moved it down to Sanctum where they had access to their fully stocked kitchen.
Just because he’d stopped coming to the meal didn’t mean Roman was completely out of the loop.
Behind the high leather booths that lined the back of the room, there was a wall of mirrors that reflected the purple lights coming from the ceiling. The last time he’d been in Sanctum, there had been a candle on each table as an additional light source, but they had been replaced with a small, dimly lit cube. Frankly, he wouldn’t trust an open flame around some of the patrons that came into the bar either.
Maddox walked over to the table carrying a tray with four pint-sized glasses, one filled with a dark liquid and another with a frothy, pale, neon green that looked distressingly like radioactive waste. Besides the pints, there were six metal shot glasses, two of which had a strange blue vapor rolling out of it.
He set the tray down, then sat down in the booth. “I want your opinion on some of this new stuff. We’ve been making it ourselves down on one of the lower levels.”
“Seriously? I just wanted some damn whiskey.”
“We have a bottle for you to take home that I know you’ll enjoy. A—what do you call it? An aged bottle made several years before the Zyphir attacked that we bought from a collector. You don’t want to open it around here. There are too many people that will smell it and want some. Trust me, I made that mistake a few weeks ago. Consider it a belated Christmas gift. Or a bribe. We need a human to try these new drinks.”
“Thanks in advance. A bottle like that is far too generous, but I’m not going to turn it down.” Roman eyed the glasses in front of him suspiciously. “And I have a feeling that I’m going to earn it.”
“Try this one first.” Maddox grabbed the smoking shot glass.
Lifting his glass, Roman inhaled some of the vapor. It smelled slightly fruity, and it left him feeling like he’d just downed a gallon of tequila. “Woah, what is this?” Curious, he tossed back the shot and looked down at the trace of pink liquid that remained. “Uh, it even tastes pink.” And like candy. “Why would you do this?”
Maddox made a face after he drank his own shot. “This one wasn’t my idea. Gods, that’s horrible, but this is the kind of shit most people are asking for these days. Regrettably, I think Mya will like this, so I can’t banish this from New Vega.”
They moved onto a red shot that burned Roman’s throat...and not just for a moment. The feeling lingered. Maybe he should have considered that ‘human tolerance’ often meant something completely different to a bunch of Krytos than it did to an actual human. He didn’t bother being discreet as he lifted his arm to dry his tear-filled eyes on his sleeve but fought the urge to run from the booth in search of a gallon of water.
Fuck, that must be what it felt like to be burned alive.
“I...” he croaked out, “...hate you.”
“Clearly, this one is too strong for most humans,” Maddox said apologetically. “This is what I imagine hellfire and brimstone taste like. Maybe the Tarins will like it, but I certainly don’t.” He pushed the shot glass away. “I swear, these weren’t this bad before Tavius made some adjustments.”
“We are going to have to kill him, then.”
Maddox shrugged. “I’ve got two brothers, so I can spare the youngest. Try the green drink. It should help neutralize the heat. I kind of like this one.”
Roman only managed a small sip, then he had to fight the urge to gag. It was slime, or gel, or something in between, and it felt rough on his tongue. “I really don’t think we can be friends anymore. You actually like that?”
Maddox laughed. “It must be a Krytos thing. While we’re suffering through this, tell me what was going on with those elites.”
He tested his voice before explaining what happened in front of the bar. “The males who were working the doors seemed too inexperienced to be guarding the sanctuary.”
“Bain and Rafi normally work in the casino, though, most of the Sanctum staff wanted the day off for the tournament. We’ve got a lot of people competing this year, which was why I made sure to come down here to cover them until they got back. Still, those two should have handled the situation before you needed to jump in. I’ll definitely be speaking to them when they get
back.”
“They need some training, and stars, so do the elites. I miss the days when I could’ve just kicked their asses and been done with the whole business.”
“You should have,” Maddox stated. “Got to find your fun where you can. I had a good brawl with some Helios earlier. Gods, I needed that.”
“I saw the three of them limping out of the med-center.”
“Originally, there were five. Those fucking cats cracked the foundation of one of the pools again. This was the third time since we’ve reopened New Vega that they’ve done it, so I had to teach them a lesson.”
“You tried to pass it off on Daimon, but he wasn’t answering his wrist unit.”
Maddox sighed. “I tried, but it was better that I took care of it. I held onto my temper while they were mouthing off, then a couple of them pulled knives. Those two won’t be moving anytime soon. Daimon worked with the crew to reinforce those pool, and when he figured out the Helios were destroying them on purpose, he would have killed them.”
“Then it’s better you took care of it without anyone dying, and at least one of us got to beat the shit out of someone today. Happy fucking New Year.” Roman waited for Maddox to stop laughing to say, “Speaking of, I saw the memorial. I’m sorry it took so long for me to see it, and I wanted to thank you.”
“Stop. No thanks are needed. I don’t want your gratitude—”
“Well, you have it anyway.”
“Fine. Whatever. Great.” Maddox downed his last shot to end the conversation.
Roman lifted his own in a silent toast before drinking it. He thought the liquid would have been the safest of the bunch. It was clear, tasted like a weak vodka, until seconds later, he started feeling funny.
Maddox slapped his palm against his forehead, rubbing as if his head ached. “Okay, I heard about this. It didn’t happen last time, but it’s temporary.”
“What is? Oh, shit. Why can’t I see?” Then, Roman couldn’t speak. All of his senses were gone, along with his ability to move. The paralysis only lasted for a few seconds, but it was a sensation he never wanted to feel again.
