by Kali Argent
Apparently, that broke the spell, because she jerked her hand back, fisted it on her hip, and glared. “Trick!” She shouted his name so loudly that one passerby actually yelped. “Thank you,” she answered into his mind, only marginally calmer. “I do appreciate the thought you put into this, but I’m sorry. I don’t date.”
“You don’t date period, or you don’t date humans?” Not once in almost two years had he seen her with another male besides her partner Zevon, and he knew for a fact there was nothing romantic going on between them.
“I don’t date,” she repeated, but her tone bordering on frantic as her eyes darted around the corridor. “I just…I don’t…I’m not…” Pausing, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Although, when she opened them, she didn’t look much steadier. “I’m sorry. I should go.”
“Why would you go?” Shrugging as if it didn’t matter, Trick reached out, taking her wrist instead of her hand this time. “If you don’t want to call it a date, fine. We’re just two friends who are going to spend the day together. That’s not so bad, right?”
“Trick…” She drew out his name with so much longing in her voice.
“Do you trust me?”
It took nearly a whole minute, but eventually, she nodded.
Trick’s pulse sped, and his heart soared. “Then, stop overthinking it and come with me.” When she still refused to move, he closed the distance between them, pushing right into her personal space. “One day, Zi. Give me one day. If you still feel the same way at the end of it, I won’t bother you again.”
Another nod, this one more hesitant, but still an agreement. “What are we going to do?”
“Oh, you’ll see.” He had the perfect day scheduled for them, and if everything went according to plan, it wouldn’t be their last. “Come on.” One step back, then another, moving with deliberate slowness until Aziza finally gave in and allowed him to pull her along beside him. “I think you’re going to love it.”
* * * *
“Trick. Stop. You’re going too fast.” Laughter, loud and free bubbled through Aziza’s lips as she grabbed Trick’s forearm in both hands, holding on for dear life.
The huge, oval-shaped skating rink had been part of Hope since its inception, but she’d never had the desire to venture out onto the ice before. In fact, she’d considered the humans who enjoyed slipping, sliding, and falling on their asses kind of senseless and lacking basic self-preservation.
So, when Trick had first suggested it, she’d been more than a little dubious. Still, she’d promised him one day, whatever he wanted, and she never went back on a promise. Plus, he’d been so sweet, lacing her skates for her and asking about a dozen times if she was warm enough, she couldn’t have said no if she wanted.
Her translucent scales protected her from extreme changes in temperature, but puffy clouds of steam still billowed from her mouth every time she laughed. By the gods, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much. It wasn’t just her, either. Everyone they’d encountered during the day had been happy and smiling, laughing at one thing or another.
How had she never seen it before now?
“You’re doing great, Zi.” Skating backward on the ice, the male kept his arms out in front of him, holding her steady and letting her lean on him as much as she needed.
“I’m going to fall. Again.” She couldn’t stop laughing. “Slow down.”
It had been an amazing day, one of the best in her life. They’d eaten enough Earth food to feed a small army, including something Trick had called popcorn. He’d explained that it wasn’t quite the same as what they’d had back on his homeworld, but it was pretty close. With no point of reference, she’d thought the snack food was delicious. Best of all, Trick hadn’t even complained when she’d finished the entire tub by herself. He’d just laughed, kissed her cheek, then went and bought them more.
Bowling had been a test in patience. She could hit a moving target with an assault bow at fifty paces. Yet, knocking over ten stupid, wooden pins with a big ball had been impossible. After throwing a dozen gutter balls in a row, her frustration and temper had finally gotten the better of her, and she’d marched right down the lane to kick over the offending pins.
When reason had returned, she’d been about twenty shades of humiliated at her rash behavior, but again, Trick had just laughed and applauded her problem-solving skills. He hadn’t kissed her cheek that time, and it wasn’t until he failed to do so that she realized she’d wanted him to.
“The skating rink will be closing in thirty minutes.” The electronic voice blared from overhead speakers and echoed throughout the space.
Aziza sighed. “We should probably go.”
“In a minute.” With a roguish smirk, Trick crossed his wrists, taking her right hand in his right, her left in his left, and gripped her tight. “Hold on, sweetheart.”
Then, he began turning, slowly at first, but faster and faster, until she swung around him on the ice in big, sweeping circles.
“Trick!” she yelled through more peals of laughter. “Ahh! Stop!”
Focusing on his grinning face lessened the dizziness, but her heart still thundered in her ears as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She’d never felt so free, so completely unguarded.
When he ceased spinning and eased her to a stop, she thought he’d lead her over to the edge of the rink so they could change out of their skates. Instead, he flexed his arms, curling them toward his body and bringing her closer until she collided with his chest.
Her pulse revved for an entirely different reason then, and she found herself so lost in his dark eyes, she almost fell when he released her hands. Quick as lightning, his arms came around her, keeping her upright and holding her against his hard body.
Aziza stared unblinkingly as she struggled to breathe, but it felt someone had turned off the oxygen vents in the room.
“What do you think?” he asked, his voice just a soft murmur as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Date?” He dipped his head, his lips only an inch from hers. “Or just friends?”
She hadn’t lied when she’d told him she didn’t date. It hadn’t been an excuse not to spend the day with him. Males had courted her in the past, but not often enough or with enough interest for her to honestly call it anything except what it was—casual, boring, ephemeral.
Trick was something altogether different. He made her want things she shouldn’t want, things she couldn’t have. So, while every part of her had longed to spend the day with him, she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. She couldn’t change the minds of others any more than she could change her own heart.
Holy nebula, she wanted him, though. For once in her life, she wanted to throw caution out of an airlock and say to hell with the rules. She wanted to grab hold of her own happiness with both hands and never let it go.
More than anything, she wanted to take Trick McCall to her bed, sink her fangs into his neck, and make him hers…consequences be damned.
She settled on somewhere in the middle.
“Date,” she whispered aloud. “Definitely a date.”
That was all the encouragement he needed to close the distance and slant his mouth over hers. He didn’t kiss her gently, either. There was no tentative touch of lips, no sign of hesitation. One arm locked around her waist like a steel band, and his other hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as he ravaged her mouth with a possessiveness that stole her breath.
He didn’t kiss her like he wanted her. He didn’t even kiss her like he cared for her.
Trick kissed her like he owned her.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Why are we drinking here instead of Last Stop?”
Aziza rolled her bottle of pineapple soda between her palms and sighed. The Lounge was a little pretentious for her tastes, but hardly anyone frequented the piano bar. Other than her and Zevon, there were only six other people in the place, and one of them was the bartender.
“I needed to th
ink.”
“About Trick?” Leaning sideways on his barstool, Zevon bumped their shoulders together and gave her a broad, knowing grin. “I like him. He’s not like a lot of other humans.”
Aziza liked him, too, and that was the problem. She liked him too much. “Maybe not, but he is still human.”
Zevon lowered his own bottle—some fruity something in an alarming shade of pink—to the bar but kept both hands clasped around it. “He’s a good male, Aziza. He obviously cares about you. You’ve been happier these last few weeks than I’ve ever seen you.” He ticked each point off on his fingers as he spoke. “So, what’s the issue?”
The past three weeks had been like a dream, like she’d been living someone else’s life. Trick McCall was the first person she thought of when she woke up in the morning, and his was the last face she saw in her mind before she fell asleep at night. When they were together, everything else melted away, and it was easy to forget all the reasons it could never last.
“I never should have agreed to that first date.”
“Date?” Bubbling laughter filled the air around them as a beautiful human female bounced up beside her barstool. “Aziza, did you really go on a date?”
Damn it. That was another side effect of spending so much time with Trick. She spoke aloud more often now, and sometimes, she wasn’t even aware she’d done it until someone else reacted.
Choking back a sigh, Aziza pasted on a smile she didn’t feel as she turned to greet the female. Mesa was well-liked throughout the city, probably because she treated everyone she encountered with warmth and kindness. She always went out of her way to greet Aziza when they passed in the corridors, or to inquire about her day when she saw her around the city.
Besides, even if she was a raging psycho, telling the mate of the city’s director to fuck off probably wouldn’t end well for Aziza.
“Hello, Mesa.” This time, she spoke aloud purposely out of courtesy to the female. “How are you tonight?”
“I’m fine.” Flicking her fingers dismissively, Mesa slid onto the barstool beside Aziza and looked up at her expectantly. “Did you say you went on a date?” Her green eyes sparkled, and her lips twitched at the corners. “With Trick?”
Aziza huffed and threw her hands into the air. “Does everyone know?”
“Yes,” Mesa and Zevon answered in unison.
“Or they suspect,” Director Raxcor Wyeth added as he came to stand behind his mate, placing a hand on Mesa’s shoulder and bending to kiss the top of her head.
Swinging her stool around, Aziza slid off her seat and stood at attention, lowering her head in a sign of respect. “Sir.”
Behind her, Zevon did the same. The director nodded his acceptance of their deference, then motioned for them to resume their seats.
“So?” Mesa demanded, placing her hands on the bar and leaning forward. “How long have you been seeing him? Did you know him before you started dating? Is dating weird for you?” She charged right ahead, barely pausing for breath as she bombarded Aziza with questions. “Are you going to see him tonight? Is it serious?”
The director laughed. “It would be easier for her to answer, mishka, if you give her a chance to talk.”
“Oh.” The female’s cheeks pinkened, but her smile never faltered. “Oops.”
Aziza really didn’t know how to answer some of those questions, and she was even less inclined to answer the others in front of the director. Something of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, because Mesa frowned, and Director Wyeth sighed.
“Speak freely,” he ordered. Then, he glanced down at his mate, an indulgent grin playing across his mouth. “And aloud, if you would.”
Great. Just fucking great. It was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid, but she couldn’t refuse a direct order. Worse, if she lied, Director Wyeth would probably know. He seemed to know everything.
“Yes,” Aziza answered, resigned to the inevitable. “Yes, to all of it. I knew Trick before we started…dating. Yes, thinking of it as dating is weird. I do plan to see him tonight, and yes, it’s serious.” She paused, twirled her soda bottle around on the bar. “It’s serious for me anyway.” If she was going to damn herself, she might as well make it worth it. “I want to make him mine.”
Beside her, Mesa gasped. “You want to claim him?” Her fingers fluttered around her mouth, and her gaze looked a little unfocused. “Oh, that’s so great. Have you told him yet?”
From the corner of her eye, Aziza peeked up at the director. “No. Not yet.”
“Tell him you love him,” Mesa said, very serious all of the sudden. “I know it’s not really natural for you, but humans, we like that sort of thing. It’s something he’ll understand.”
Yes, she’d heard that. She knew the words to use to express her feelings in a way Trick wouldn’t misinterpret. There was just a slight problem with that. “I don’t plan to tell him anything.”
“Why not?”
Aziza blinked, turning in her seat to fully face Director Wyeth. She’d expected the question from Mesa, but surely the director understood her position.
“No disrespect, sir, but you know how the Council feels about interracial pairings.”
He shared a look with his mate and nodded. “Obviously, I don’t give a damn what they think.”
Aziza kept her tone as polite as she could manage. “Your position allows you a certain amount of leeway, sir. I’m just a guard. The Council—”
“Isn’t in charge of this city,” the director interrupted, an undercurrent of finality in his tone. “If this human is who you want, you don’t need anyone’s permission to claim him.”
She wanted to believe him, but… “The consequences—”
“To hell with the consequences.” This time, it was Mesa who interrupted. “Is he worth it?”
Aziza considered the question for the span of a heartbeat. “Yes.”
“Then, go get him,” Director Wyeth said. “If the Council has something to say about it, I’ll deal with them.”
The words had barely registered when Zevon grabbed her upper arm and hauled her out of her seat. “Let’s go.”
It would be stupid to ask where they were going, but she did have to wonder, “Why are you coming with me?” Confessing her undying devotion to someone wasn’t exactly the kind of thing she wanted or needed an audience for. “I really don’t need an escort.”
“Consider it moral support.” The way he said it, though, made it sound more like he knew she’d probably lose courage, and he wasn’t about to let her run.
“I won’t change my mind.”
Zevon nodded as he glanced back toward the bar. “Okay, but I still need another soda.”
“Good luck!” Mesa called.
Aziza nodded to show that she’d heard, but she didn’t need luck or moral support. From the moment she’d decided that Trick was more important than anything the Council could throw at her, everything had settled into place. She knew what she wanted, and she knew what she needed to do.
Trick was hers, and before the night was over, everyone, including him, would know it.
CHAPTER FIVE
Trick was on cloud fucking nine.
While Aziza still hadn’t confessed how she felt about him, they’d spent almost every free minute together since their first official date. Sometimes, they did nothing more than sit in the cafeteria, eating bland Earth food without saying a word. Twice, he’d taken her back to the Rec Center, and both times, she’d eaten all the damn popcorn.
Of course, he didn’t really mind, but he’d loved the way her cheeks had pinkened and her lips had curved into a shy smile when he’d teased her. He loved her infectious laugh. Loved the way she’d grabbed his arm when he’d taken her to see a horror movie. He loved her strength, her vulnerability when she let her guard down, and the bit of surprise in her voice every time she said his name.
Fuck, he just loved her.
Ever since he was little, the night had always called to
him. There was something simultaneously calming and exciting about the dark. Lately, he’d found himself literally living for those hours between closing time and the imposed, city-wide curfew. Many days, it was the only time he could spend with Aziza, and while he looked forward to those stolen moments, it was never enough.
He wanted more. More time with her. More touches. More of the kisses she gave so willingly.
“Trick!”
Shaking him out of his thoughts, he looked up at the summons and frowned. “What?”
One of his regulars, an older human male with a bald head and bushy, silver eyebrows, chuckled. “Rough day?”
Mentally chastising himself, Trick pasted on a winsome smile as he slid farther down the bar. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” On autopilot, he took the towel from his shoulder and wiped at the spot on the bar in front of the man. “Just a little distracted. What can I get for you, Marty?”
“Just another beer for now.” His weathered, gnarled fingers drummed against the top of the bar. “I don’t hear as good as I used to, but I’m still a pretty good listener.” He smiled. “Just throwing it out there.”
Trick appreciated the offer, but he didn’t know where to begin unraveling his problems. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he had a problem. Things with Aziza were great. It felt greedy to want more, selfish, but he couldn’t change how he felt.
Thankfully, a loud, drunken yell from across the room saved him the need to answer. “Hold that thought, Marty.”
Two steps to the left placed him clear of any customers, and he put both hands on the bar, pushing himself up and over the gleaming surface. He didn’t even have to look up to know the noise came from the single pool table in the back corner of the room. The thing didn’t see a lot of use since the Rec Center had bigger, better tables to offer, but it was a nice addition for people who just wanted to relax with a beer and a friendly game.
“That’s fucking bullshit. You cheated, and you know it.”
Trick recognized the voice, as well as the mop of blazing red hair atop the man’s head. Shit, he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with the kid, especially if he was drunk on vodka and his own ego.
