by Brenna Lyons
“The so-called news?” That didn’t bother her, did it?
“Daveed, the news will say you’re being inappropriate.”
“By having dinner with a colleague?” It burned to call her that when he wanted so much more from her.
Joy sighed. “The anti-Xxan guerrillas have attacked for less, you know.”
“What if…?” By the Seir-God, I have never had problems talking to a woman before.
I’ve never wanted a woman like I want Joy before.
“Daveed?”
“What if I want to be very appropriate with you?”
Her eyes widened a bit, enticing him with the blue highlights that matched her jacket. “How…appropriate?” Fear wafted off of her in waves.
I’m scaring her away. I need to retreat. “Never mind. This is the wrong time, I suppose.”
She straightened in her chair. “Daveed…”
He waited for her to find the words.
Joy cleared her throat. “Relationships… I mean sexual relationships in the workplace don’t often work out, and when they don’t, it becomes very difficult to work together in the aftermath. And with the perception problems—”
He nodded grimly, then tipped his head. “Have a good night, Joy. Don’t work too late.”
“I won’t.”
Daveed made his way out of the office. He stopped at the security office and ordered the guards to walk Joy to her vehicle. Then he ordered one of them to follow her back to the secured building, just to make sure she arrived safely.
That accomplished, he made his way to the nest, nursing what he suspected was a broken heart.
****
Nine days later
Joy snapped awake, her heart pounding and her breathing ragged. The sweet edge of climax still sang in her body. She moaned at the pull of the sheets against her peaked nipples.
The dream had been like dozens of others she’d had in the last week or a little more. It seemed they’d started when Daveed made the enigmatic statement about being “very appropriate” with her. She still wished she knew what that meant.
The dreams were persistent. In them, Daveed kissed her, touched her, thrust into her, hard and fast.
How many times had she woken, wanting him? At least four times every night, it seemed.
This wasn’t smart. Not smart at all. Hadn’t Tristan taught her that office flings were a bad idea?
But what if he wants more than a fling? Xxanian men mated for life. Was that what he meant by “very appropriate”?
Just the thought sent a zing of pleasure through her. If she was certain Daveed wanted more, there would be no stopping her.
At least she was fairly certain about that.
What if he was saying he wasn’t interested in a relationship with her? She wasn’t about to suggest one, just to see what his answer would be. If Daveed Raashh wanted something from her, he would have to make a move.
Chapter Four
Joy entered the lobby of the Spice Building and smiled to the guards at the desk. She’d nearly reached the elevator when the alarms sounded. She looked back at the desk, dismayed to see the guards dispersing toward the doors with weapons in hand.
“Get aboard the elevator,” one of them shouted at her. “Get aboard before the shields come down.”
Weapons fire cracked and sizzled, and Joy ducked. The elevator didn’t open. She closed her fist on the Identi-chip, wincing as a shot struck the wall above her.
Someone shouted, then cursed fluently and she forced herself not to look. She didn’t want to know if the injured party was friend or foe.
At last, the elevator doors started moving. Joy prepared to scramble inside.
She didn’t have a chance to. An arm reached out of the half-opened doors and dragged her inside. Joy’s scream of fear ended at the sound of Xxan trilling from her rescuer’s mouth.
Daveed.
The doors reversed, starting to close when they were only half-open. He pressed her to the wall and shielded her with his body.
Daveed shoved her hard against the wall, and pain sliced along her chin and cheek. The doors slammed shut, the elevator dropped faster than it usually did…then stopped with a jerk, and what could only be blast doors shut around them.
“You’re…you’re safe, Joy,” he breathed. “Safe with me.”
Hot liquid streamed down her neck and chest, soaking through her clothing. Realization that he was bleeding hit her hard. How badly was he hurt?
Joy looked up at him, wincing at his dilated eyes and gasping breaths. Daveed opened his mouth as if to say something, then collapsed, landing hard on the floor of the elevator.
She looked down at Daveed, her heart stuttering at the sheer volume of orange blood soaking through his shirt and jacket. Joy launched for the emergency cabinet and dragged it open. There had to be an emergency medical kit inside. She pulled it out, then snatched up the cell phone from the sheath beside it and opened it.
A voice came over it before she could figure out what to dial. “Stay calm. You are inside the blast chamber.”
“Daveed has been shot. What do I do?” She knelt to his side and started pulling supplies out of the small duffel.
“How bad is it?”
Blood made lazy tracks from beneath his shoulder. Most likely the entry wound. “He’s bleeding out fast, I think. What do I need?”
“The green bag.” In the background, she could hear other voices relaying the information.
Most likely to first responders or SLAL. Or both. Joy rifled through the pile, found the green bag, and ripped it open. “What now?”
“Pull out the yellow pouch. Place the medicated towels over the worst of the wounds and press hard on them. It will slow his bleeding.”
Turning Daveed to his side to find the entry wound wasn’t easy, but she managed to get a towel on each side before she let him drop again. Joy squeezed tight, hoping for the best.
“Done?” the voice asked.
“Done, but he needs help. He’s already lost a lot of blood.” A trickle let her know that she’d only slowed the flow and not stopped it. “And he’s still bleeding.”
“On its way.”
The blast doors shifted, and the elevator started to rise.
Joy pressed down harder, cursing aloud at the fact that Daveed continued to bleed faster than she was comfortable with. “Don’t you dare die on me, Daveed. Don’t you dare.”
The elevator stopped, but the doors didn’t open.
“Where is that help?” she demanded.
“Five minutes away.”
“I don’t know if he has two minutes.”
There was a moment of silence. Even the voices in the background went still.
A buzzing voice on the other side of the phone had her breathing a sigh of relief. “Twenty seconds.” It wasn’t the same man she’d been talking to moments before, but it was giving the answer Daveed needed.
The doors started opening, and Joy held her breath. She looked over her shoulder and sobbed at the sight of Karl loping toward them.
He vaulted across Daveed’s legs, landing smoothly on the opposite side of his body from her. “Keep pressure on,” he ordered.
Joy nodded, and he lifted Daveed from the floor as if he weighed no more than she did. She rushed to stay even with him. They jogged to the shuttle, Daveed between them.
Her heel caught on the edge of a roof tile, and the shoe whipped off her foot in mid-step. She hobbled along without it. At the step up into the shuttle, she levered the other shoe off and went in barefoot.
They lowered Daveed to the floor, and Karl spun away to the door, barking out orders in Xxan. He looked back at Joy, wide-eyed. “Your shoes,” he shouted.
“Don’t be stupid,” Joy replied. “Just get Daveed to a doctor.”
The shuttle rose and turned, and Joy gasped at the sight of the building rushing away as the door closed. She took a calming breath as it locked. Air rushed past her as the craft pressurized.
&
nbsp; “Go, Arren,” Karl ordered.
The sudden movement jerked Joy to one side. Then the anti-grav systems kicked in, and she shifted back into a comfortable position.
Karl was already in motion, pulling down medical supplies. He landed hard on his knees, then reached for her face with a cloth in hand.
Joy recoiled. “What is wrong with you?” Daveed was injured, and he was trying to clean her face?
“You’re bleeding. A female —”
“Daveed is bleeding out. We don’t have time to waste on this.”
He hesitated, then set the cloth aside. Karl threw himself fully into his work. In short order, he had an IV of what she suspected was crossbred Xxanian blood hooked up. Moments later, he’d placed wrist bands on Daveed. By the tones they were emitting, Joy guessed they were tracking his vital signs and transmitting them to SLAL.
The overhead speakers came to life, and a mixture of Xxan and English overlapped. Mostly Xxan, which left Joy more than a little lost.
“Three minutes,” Arren yelled in response to something in Xxan.
He can’t mean when we’ll be there. It’s usually a forty minute or longer trip to the space station.
It is an emergency. Maybe they cleared lanes.
The shuttle came down on its struts with a light bounce, and Karl had the door open a few heartbeats later. Human and crossbred doctors poured into the shuttle. Two of them took over for Joy, and she moved to the far corner to let them work.
The five doctors and Karl hefted Daveed out and onto a gurney. They sprinted away fast enough to make her head spin.
Joy sat on the plush floor of the shuttle, stunned. She wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. The last thing she wanted was to end up in their way. Or somewhere on the space station I shouldn’t be. It is a military station.
Arren made his way out of the cockpit, his dark glasses hooked onto the neckline of his t-shirt. He offered his hand to help her to her feet. “Come on. We should have someone tend to you too.”
“Can they?” It was out before Joy reasoned it was a stupid question to ask.
He smiled widely, showing his human front teeth and Xxanian rear ones. “Sure. They can treat almost any type of life up here.”
She took his hand and allowed Arren to help her up with a whispered “Thanks.”
The landing bay was all but deserted. A lone soldier appeared and disappeared again between the stacks of supply crates. They crossed it in silence.
A warning alarm sounded moments before another shuttle bounced in harder than Arren had. Joy winced and glanced around, anticipating the rush of a second medical team. They didn’t appear.
The engines screeched to an unnatural stop, and the door burst out. Joy took an unsteady step back at the sight of the hulking pureblood Xxanian stalking their direction.
Raashh. He had the look of a father who’d been told his son had been grievously injured. The fact that Raashh was here and not cleaving those responsible in two surprised her, given what she’d learned about their race in school.
The string of Xxan rumbling from the elder started halfway across the landing bay from them. Whatever Arren said in response resulted in a snort and a bark of order from his seir.
The change in mood came in a heartbeat. The moment Raashh looked Joy’s direction, his entire body tensed. His ridge plates rose, as did the frills atop his massive head. Raashh roared, showing his hunting teeth, and his frills shook in warning.
Joy pressed to the wall behind her, shaking hard. There was no question he intended to rip her to pieces, and she had no idea why. Am I too close to Arren for his comfort? Is protecting his young instinctual for him?
Arren stepped between them, growling and grumbling. Hisses and trills followed. The noises Raashh made in response implied he intended to go through Arren if he had to.
The young Xxanian snapped and switched to English. “She couldn’t order Daveed not to bleed. Neither can you. She saved his life. Don’t forget it.”
Joy hoped that was true, but considering the amount of blood Daveed had lost, that wasn’t certain.
The elder’s frills folded in, and he tipped his head to Joy. One big hand came down on Arren’s head, and he ruffled his son’s hair, leaving his curls in disarray. Then Raashh stalked down the corridor.
“What did he say?” Joy asked, trying to reason that the crisis was over and her knees could stop shaking. Her knees weren’t listening, it seemed.
“He warned me not to fly into a war zone again, even if my brother dies next time. I’m a Subdominant. I would not make a good warrior.”
Joy rolled her eyes. “And?” About me?
“He told me to see to your care and comfort. Raashh—and I are in your debt, Ms. Patterson.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so Joy resisted the urge to question it. Instead, she followed Arren to a medical bay.
There was already a doctor waiting for her. She motioned to the bed and the clear plastic bag next to it. “I’ll need you to remove your clothing and put it in the bag. There is a shower through that door—you can change in there—and a clean medical gown hung in there for your use. After that, we’ll get you patched up.”
“Can the clothing be cleaned?”
“I’m afraid it’s evidence, miss. But we’ll—”
“I’ll take care of clothing, Ms. Patterson,” Arren interrupted whatever the doctor was going to say. He started to turn away.
“You don’t have to,” Joy called out after him.
Arren offered her a smile. “I own a clothing company. It’s really no trouble at all.”
Before she could answer, he was racing down the corridor. Thankfully, he wasn’t going toward the shuttles. If he went back to Spice now, his seir was sure to hurt them both for it.
****
The doctor returned to the room with a garment bag. She’d disappeared at a comm a few minutes earlier. “This was just delivered for you, and Arren informs me that Karl is ready to take you home in Raashh’s shuttle, at your convenience.”
She nodded and took the bag. With it laid out over the examination bed, Joy unzipped it and started parting the tissue inside.
“If you would like to speak to a cosmetic surgeon, there are several I can recommend. Raashh will pay for it, of course.”
“What? No. You can hardly see the scar.” Even a bit of face powder would cover it completely. Someone who didn’t know about the attack probably wouldn’t even notice it.
She pulled out the dress, swallowing a gasp of shock. It was the most expensive dress Spice made, one of Daveed’s early commercial successes in the human market. It was a full-length evening gown that was nearly backless and had a long slit up to the center of her left thigh. A quick check showed it was her size. Moreover, there were underwear and shoes to match it in the bag.
“That’s pretty,” the doctor noted.
“Yes. It is.” It was the also the inspiration of her entire line. She’d adored Daveed’s sense of style and had wanted to make clothing as beautiful as his.
“If you’d rather have privacy…” the doctor hinted.
“I would. Thank you.”
She left with a smile, and Joy dressed. Every touch teased her body with sensual awareness. Though her new salary would allow her to purchase clothing like this, Joy had never dreamed of owning this dress.
Her senses scattered, Joy left the room. Arren was waiting for her in the hall, and she offered him a smile.
“I hope the dress is to your liking,” he offered in a tone that felt far too formal for a child to utter.
“It is. Thank you, but really… This is too much.”
He snorted. “It’s nothing.” He turned away, leading the way to the landing bay. “Besides, I know it’s your favorite.”
Her heart stuttered. “How could you know a thing like that?”
Arren chuckled. “When you look at it…even an image of it, your eyes linger, your scent changes. You wanted this dress, so that’s what I orde
red for you.”
Words stuck in her throat. “Thank you, Arren. It’s lovely.”
“It is,” he agreed.
There was a comfortable moment of silence between them.
Arren broke it. “If it wouldn’t be too intrusive to say something?” he hinted. “I don’t want to offend you.”
Joy stared at him, shocked by a child of eight saying something so adult. “I’ll try not to be offended.”
He looked up at her, his expression starkly serious. “I’ve seen the way you look at Daveed.”
Her cheeks flamed at that. “Arren, romances in the workplace aren’t really professional…or smart.”
“I’ve seen the way Daveed looks at you too. I don’t think it would be sex between you. If you let him, he would be a very good mate.”
Words deserted her. Joy stopped cold in the middle of the hallway, finding it hard to make eye contact with Arren.
“It wasn’t an accident that Daveed was on that elevator with you. It wasn’t fate. He was on his way to the shuttle with me, ordered to evacuate by our seir. He chose to come back for you. He demanded it. Daveed all but threw me at Karl and told him to get me out of there. Then he ordered the elevator to take him to you.”
She realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. “I don’t…”
“You do understand, Joy. Any other woman, my brother would have let the security forces do their jobs. Not you.”
Her nerves rattled, she started walking again. Part of her wanted to protest that Daveed couldn’t feel that way about her. Another knew Arren wasn’t lying. The Xxan don’t believe in lying.
What did that mean for her? Joy shivered in realization. Daveed had risked death to save her, when he was halfway to escape.
At the shuttle, Arren took her hand and bowed over it, bringing the back of her hand to his forehead. She suspected it was a Xxanian sign of respect of some sort.
“Rest well, Joy. Please…don’t try to come to work tomorrow. Allow us time to institute new security measures. When you come back… I’ve ordered your driver to use the secured level of the garage for you, from now on.” He hesitated. “Think about what I said?”
