by Jenn Burke
“Tell that to your dad.”
“Is that what this is about?”
“What’s this?”
“Don’t be obtuse.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“You’re upset.”
“Maybe because I carried an enemy agent into the Ivory Tower and I feel shitty about it.”
Zed attempted to tug him closer. Felix resisted.
“No one blames you.”
Felix twisted away, yanking his hands out of Zed’s. “I know.” The bug could have been on anyone. But the turn of the wheel of fate almost guaranteed it would be him, because he was the piece that didn’t belong. He dug in his right pocket and found his vial of sedatives. The ones that chased dreams away and kept the nightmares at a low simmer. Did dealing with Zed’s family count as a nightmare? “You should go get ready.”
“Come shower with me.”
Arms wrapped around him from behind, a hard body quickly followed, pressing into him so that he felt covered. Trapped.
“Maybe Elias and I should head off tomorrow. Next day. Meet up with Mar—”
Zed squeezed him, cutting off his words. “Stay. You could stay. My family is your family. My home is yours.” He loosened his hold and encouraged Felix to turn. Damn him—he knew if they were face to face, Felix would have to capitulate. He could only avoid the pull of Zed’s eyes, the lure of his mouth, for so long. “I still need you,” Zed murmured.
And damn him for reminding Felix of the promise he’d given not a week earlier—that he’d stay by Zed’s side as long as needed. So many promises lay broken between them. “I don’t belong here, Zed. This isn’t my home.”
“What about me? I owe them more than a minute. More than a couple of days.”
Felix studied the quiet appeal in Zed’s expression and read clearly the need in his eyes. Promises or not, Zed hadn’t been lying when he said he still needed him. God, if he could just cut the rest of the world away. Exist in a bubble that held only him and Zed, life would be perfect. No bullshit, no commitments, no interruptions. But life didn’t work that way. And even in that bubble, Zed would still wear the Guardians’ cuff. If he didn’t owe his family this time, he still owed the mysterious keepers of the galaxy.
Felix hooked a finger inside the waistband of Zed’s pants. “Let’s go have that shower.” He could give in to that request. It wasn’t much, but it was something he could give. Zed could take the memory of his mouth into his meeting. Of his skin. He slipped his hand inside the soft material, grabbed a hold of Zed’s hardening cock and tugged. “C’mon. You’re going to need some soap by the time I’m finished with you.”
Zed made an odd noise in his throat.
Chapter Four
Felix missed the smell of reprocessed air. He preferred the flat scent of metal and old dust to the weird breezes piped into Anatolius spaces. Every room had a theme. The guest quarters were redolent with vanilla and clean linen. Brennan’s den had smelled of paper. That might have been all the books—real books. The sky bridge arcing between the family building and the Anatolius Industries headquarters smelled like coconut. Reflected sunlight warmed the glassed-in corridor, making the scent almost appropriate, especially if you imagined that the abstract etchings floating along the top of each pane were palm fronds. Of course, a quick glance down destroyed any beachcombing illusions.
“From this vantage point, Alpha Station resembles an Earth city.” Qek’s bald blue head swiveled back and forth as she took full advantage of the same view Felix had taken in that morning, of the five interlocked domes housing what would be skyscrapers if there had been an actual sky to scrape.
“Yeah, I heard it was modeled after New Athens on Earth.” Elias glanced over his shoulder at Zed. “That right?”
“On a smaller scale,” Zed said.
He’d had been quiet since returning from his meeting with Brennan. In contrast, Felix felt noisier. Recrimination had a habit of echoing in a man’s thoughts.
Zed made a careful study of the patterns in the glass and the view up: the panels that formed the dome over this section of Alpha Station. Beyond, space unfolded in an endless carpet, pricked by distant stars. Squinting, you could make out the tail end of the jump queue. Turning, you might catch a glimpse of Earth rising behind them—and the rest of the station domes. The view Qek marveled over. Zed wouldn’t turn. Nor would he look down.
His fear of heights had always struck Felix as strange. They spent the bulk of their lives suspended in a vacuum with no up or down. Fear of falling was one of the first things anyone who ventured into space had to overcome.
He hadn’t exhibited his fear on the sky bridges of Ashushk Prime, which only went to show how far gone he’d been when they got there.
Yeah, no, time to think about something else. “Don’t look down,” Felix whispered.
“Ass.”
“You know it, but I’m here. If you fall, I’m coming with you.” He grabbed Zed’s arm.
“Not helping.”
“If they tweaked the gravity differential up here, we could float—”
Zed gagged.
Nessa turned, medical wallet already in her hand. “Are you okay? You’re so pale.”
“Can we just get to the end of the sky bridge before you examine me?”
“What’s the problem?” Elias stopped and their small group formed a huddle in the middle of the narrow bridge.
Sweat popped out across Zed’s forehead. “Can we keep moving, please?”
Guilt slithered across Felix’s skin, cool and clammy. Yanking on Zed’s hand, he pulled him toward the other end of the sky walk. “C’mon. We don’t want to be late for the press conference.”
Zed blanched further. Add another emotion to the mix: Felix might be a heel for taking comfort in the fact Zed loathed the idea of a press conference as much as he did, but if they needed some common ground, that could be it. Zed shouldn’t be a managed expectation for the Anatolius family or the AEF.
They reached the end of the sky bridge and Zed practically sagged into the upper lobby of the Anatolius Industries headquarters.
“Mr. Anatolius?”
The dry, crisp voice belonged to a young woman in a security uniform that had been starched to razor sharpness. A man could cut his fingers on those seams, which might be her intent. Zed gave the woman a cursory glance and tilted his head, indicating she should state her business. He usually handled people with more warmth, but Felix supposed her sharp creases got to him, too. They’d both had enough of military precision to last them a lifetime.
“I’m Misha Volk. With Anatolius Security. Your brother Brennan asked me to escort you to the press conference.”
They needed an escort to the ground floor?
Zed dipped his chin in one of those casual but commanding nods. “I know how to operate a lift tube, Ms. Volk.”
“The press has been alerted to your arrival.”
“That’s usually how a press conference works,” Felix observed.
Volk produced a wallet. “Those not invited to the conference. They’re gathered in the main lobby of the building.”
“So, shouldn’t you be there directing traffic?” Elias asked.
“Anatolius Security is working to contain the situation. In the meantime, I have been directed to escort you to the conference using a more discreet route.”
Zed knew every inch of the family buildings, he didn’t need a guide. Rather than state that, however, he chose the path of least resistance. “Lead on then.”
They fell in behind the security officer. From the back, she appeared just as starched, and her presence resurrected the specter of a future Felix had been trying to ignore all morning. Press conferences and AEF hound dogs. Zed’s place in the family dynasty. Felix’s lack of place.
Bypassing the main lift station, they followed a corridor toward the opposite side of the building. This level served as a concourse of a sort, a way station between the upper management offices and the business below. A square housed a small café, and the corridor was lined with conference and meeting rooms. The aroma of coffee and chocolate wafted past. Felix wondered what thoughts such scents were supposed to inspire. Everyone they passed seemed to be busy. Walking in conference, walking with eyes pointed toward a holo display, walking with brisk, purposeful strides. No one roused his suspicion. All on the move, all doing what they should be doing by all appearances. Their escort appeared far from relaxed, however. Her back ramrod straight, shoulders square, she marched down one avenue after another as if leading them into battle.
Shit, I hope not.
Why did he feel as if they were being directed toward something, rather than away from something? Because he was a paranoid fucker, most likely. Still, Felix didn’t discount the creep over the back of his scalp. He’d rather be wrong than dead.
They turned into a proper access corridor. There were two doors toward the end. The fine hairs along the back of Felix’s neck rose as they passed each. The corridor spilled into a small vestibule housing one lift tube. Volk waved them into the waiting car. The doors closed with a sudden and abrupt hiss, leaving a startled Volk outside.
“That’s one way to get rid of her.”
Zed smacked the open door button and the lift plummeted, shooting their stomachs up into their diaphragms.
Nessa turned wide brown eyes toward them. “Where are we going?”
“Down, by the feel of it.”
“Except none of us actually pressed a button.” A lift that engaged without input was either malfunctioning—or it had been tampered with. Shit. The panel inside the doors flashed numbers, without indicating a destination.
“Try the emergency stop,” Felix said.
“I’m hitting it now,” Nessa yelled.
The car continued downward, the numbers on the display ticking past at an ever-increasing rate.
Shit and double shit.
Felix woke his bracelet. He had no station-specific hacks, but he did have a broad diagnostic tool. Elias added his expertise by banging on the sides of the car. “Hey!”
Qek approached the panel and produced her wallet, her thoughts apparently in sync with Felix’s. “Do you have a diagnostic running?”
“Yep,” Felix muttered, fingers dancing over a holographic keyboard. Beside him, Zed breathed quietly and methodically and then shimmered. Could he do anything out of phase? Maybe halt the progress of the car? It wouldn’t be the first time his capabilities had saved them.
They had seconds before the car crumpled against the end of the lift tube, or crashed through and into the endless black of space. Felix called up a schematic to see if he could determine the most likely instance of death, figuring he could backward engineer their escape.
Zed bounced off the side of the car, vanished and reappeared, clutching at his hand. He swore gently under his breath and said, “We’re moving too fast.”
“Did you just try to...” Nessa grabbed at his hand. He had no skin left on his palm.
Triple shit.
“Do not stick any part of yourself outside this car again,” Felix yelled.
“I’ve alerted station security,” Qek put in.
“I think I’m into lift control,” Felix said. Every code input met with a flashing red denial of access. “Damn it. I need my hacks.” His new bracelet came with only the most legal and therefore useless programs.
They were nearly out of lift tube. Felix thought it prudent to keep that fact to himself until he considered the consequences of all of them smashing together on the floor. If they didn’t die on impact, they’d be a mess of broken bones and punctured organs. Jesus. Abandoning his attempt to prevent the crash, Felix flung himself at Zed.
“We need to brace for impact.”
Zed grunted as Felix wrapped his arms around him. Felix appreciated the absurdity of his gesture. He could never cushion someone of Zed’s size, bulk, weight. But he could try, couldn’t he? He could damned well try. Zed shifted out of phase again, and Felix felt himself rise up off the floor. He might have yelped. He did bite his tongue. Nessa rose past him, bright red hair streaming out in divergent corkscrews. Qek shot up between them. Elias bounded off the wall behind. For a frozen instant, Felix wondered if they’d missed the end of the tube and entered space, if they’d left gravity behind. Then the shock of impact rolled through the car, slamming past his ears, followed by the screech and groan of twisting and stressed metal. Felix bounced up a second time and then down. He landed hard. Instinct had him tucking his limbs close. Close by he heard something snap with a loud pop. Qek smacked into his chest, driving the breath from his lungs. A dark arm glanced off his nose. Bright lights and happy stars danced across his vision, then the pain hit.
Pain was good. Pain meant he was alive.
A chorus of groans and a snuffled breath cut through a swell of misery that radiated out from his right shoulder. Felix spat out a mouthful of blood, heedless of where the clot landed, and croaked, “Shit.”
“That comment feels rather adequate to our situation,” Qek said, lifting her head from Felix’s chest. He’d managed to wrap an arm around her.
Someone hissed.
“Eli?”
A striplight dangled from the ceiling, flickering. The doors had bowed inward and one of them was well on the way to being folded in half. The scent of burnt electronics filled the small cabin.
“Here,” Elias answered, confirming he was alive and could speak.
“Zed?” Felix tried to turn over, and a jolt of pain coiled around his shoulder. Groaning, he slapped around beside him with his left hand. He smacked something soft.
“Watch my eye,” Nessa said.
“I’m down here,” Zed said, shifting beneath Felix.
“Can you stand, Qek?”
“Yes.”
The ashushk slid off of him and then helped Felix roll off Zed, who groaned and blinked. Beneath him, the floor had taken on a crumpled appearance. Felix leaned over him and tried to do something other than flail. His shoulder screamed every time he thought of it, anyway.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
“Gimme a minute,” Zed said, squinting.
Nessa managed a kneeling position. Felix glanced at her and took note of her stunned expression.
“How are we even alive?” she said.
“I hurt so bad I’d almost rather be dead,” Elias said from his slump near the wall.
“I expected to be more broken,” Felix said. He turned back to Zed. “Tell me you’re not broken.” His tone had an edge of desperation to it.
“Not broken,” Zed whispered hoarsely.
“You juggled us, yes?” Qek said.
“Juggled?” Felix glanced at Qek for an explanation.
“I surmise Zander employed a quick succession of phase-shifts in order to keep us all suspended at the moment of impact.”
Felix’s jaw creaked as his mouth dropped open. “Holy shit.”
“Oh my God,” Nessa breathed.
“Fuck.” Elias scrubbed the side of his face. “Fuck.”
“Did it work?” Zed asked.
“Only if you tell me you’re really okay down there,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes at him.
Zed hooked an arm around Felix’s good shoulder and pulled him down. “I’m only kind of okay. If you snuggled me, I’d be a whole lot better.”
Felix smacked Zed across the chest and Zed stifled a hiss. “Okay, okay. No smacking. I might have broken something in there.”
“Better not be your spine.”
“Nope, I can still feel my dick.”
<
br /> “Thanks for sharing that, man,” Elias said.
Putting a hand to her mouth, Nessa swallowed a chuckle and then dug her wallet out of her pocket. A second later, she gave her report. “Three cracked ribs.”
A once-over of the rest of the crew added strained ligaments (Nessa), a broken wrist (Elias), a dislocated shoulder (Felix), an emerging collection of bruises, and two bitten tongues. Zed still lacked skin on the palm of his right hand. It looked disgusting.
“I have never bitten my own tongue before.” Qek caught the tip of her purple tongue between her long fingers in an attempt to examine it visually.
“First time for everything,” Felix said.
* * *
The corridor outside the wrecked lift crawled with people of all sorts. Techs, security, men and women in suits, all trying to figure out what the hell had gone wrong. Zed slumped against the wall a few meters away, watching Brennan pace while growling at someone suspended in a holo above his wallet. His chest ached, his hand stung, and his head pounded, but it could have been worse. So much worse.
Med techs hovered over each member of the Chaos crew. None of the injuries were serious enough to warrant a visit to a hospital—just as well. If the accident wasn’t an accident and security in Anatolius buildings was compromised, there was no telling what a trek to an emergency room would entail.
Brennan stabbed a finger into the holo interface of his wallet and spun on his heel to face Zed. “This is such a fucking nightmare. You sure you’re okay?” His expression softened as he approached.
Zed held up his uninjured hand and waggled it from side to side. “Been better.”
Been worse, too. The cracked ribs would be nothing but a slightly sore memory by tomorrow, once the Mendo shot kicked in. Assuming it still worked right with his fucked-up metabolism. Elias was getting a shot of the stuff too—plus a temporary cast to keep his wrist immobile and prevent further damage before the bone could set. He’d be able to remove it by the morning. Zed’s wounded palm was protected by a derm patch, which would regenerate the skin. His experience with derm patches was not pleasant—they itched like hell—but at least he’d have a brand new palm in a handful of days.
