by Zoey Draven
And because all the clients had left before midnight, Valerie had gotten much-needed sleep. Despite the events of the day before, she’d slept like the dead. She felt surprisingly well-rested. Refreshed.
Determined.
She’d felt sorry for herself yesterday. She’d cried, long after Dravka had left her room, after she’d begged him to leave. She’d cried until she didn’t have any tears left. She’d mourned this life. She’d mourned her mother, her death that always felt like a festering ache. She’d mourned ever living on Everton in the first place. She’d mourned Dravka, knowing she could never love him the way she wanted to. She’d mourned her future and the marriage, a loveless marriage, that she’d never wanted.
But now it was morning.
A new day.
Yesterday seemed like a distant memory but what remained within her was fierce determination. It consumed her. It lit her blood on fire.
I owe this to them, she thought, walking from her bedroom, staring down the dark hallway.
Valerie could finally help them. She’d been a coward for the last five years—though, at one time, she had tried to help them. And she’d nearly gotten killed for it.
But now, Valerie had something she’d never had before over her aunt: power.
Her aunt needed her to secure a future with the Larchmonts.
Valerie would keep her end of the bargain…but she would make sure that her aunt kept to her promises as well.
Stalking to the only other room in the basement, Valerie entered the cold, darkened space. She flipped on the lights. Chains dangled from the ceiling, chains she’d cleaned more times than she cared to admit. The floor below them was spotless. On the far wall lay a tall, black cabinet, wide and heavy and expensive, one she went to and opened.
Whips and ropes and crops of leather. All different sizes, all different materials. Her aunt’s personal and prized collection.
Bile rose in Valerie’s throat. Her eyes alighted on the whip her aunt had used on her. A slim one, brown in color.
Shortly after arriving on Everton, Valerie realized that her aunt was exploiting the Keriv’i that she’d lured to Everton with the promise of payment. Sex work wasn’t illegal on the New Earth colonies. But what was illegal was not paying them. Madame Allegria, in her business license application, in the documentation she’d had to provide to the Earth Council, and on her books, claimed she was paying half of all credits received from client visits to the Keriv’i in her employment.
Only, Madame didn’t pay them the 450 credits that they should’ve received every single night they worked. Instead, she paid them a single credit for every client.
One.
Single.
Credit.
Dravka, Tavak, Ravu, and Khiva—before he’d managed to leave Everton—had been robbed of a small fortune, one that should’ve rightfully been theirs to claim. Credits they’d worked for, credits they’d been promised.
When Valerie had discovered all this, she’d gone straight to the Earth Council, meeting with a councilman in secret to avoid drawing her aunt’s notice. And the councilman had been very concerned and had promised that he would present the case to his colleagues…until he saw his wife’s name among the list of Madame Allegria’s clients.
After that, Valerie had waited anxiously for the trial to begin. The councilman, however, had betrayed her. Instead of going to the Earth Council, he’d gone to Madame Allegria and struck a deal with her. He would make the inevitable trial and subsequent criminal charges go away and she would erase all record of his wife ever visiting a Krave brothel. It would’ve spelled disaster for him since his bid for reelection was drawing near.
His wife never returned. The trial never came to fruition.
As for Valerie? Once Madame Allegria realized she’d been an inch away from prison, she’d dragged Valerie down to this very room. She’d taken the brown whip from this very cabinet and she’d…
Her aunt’s punishment had been brutal and vicious in her rage. If Khiva and Dravka hadn’t found Valerie there, she would’ve died from the blood loss alone.
But Khiva and Dravka had been there. Dravka had lasered her wounds closed himself as Khiva cleaned her back. It had been the both of them that had seen to her recovery.
Since then, Valerie had never been the same. Since then, Valerie had been a scared, timid creature, one that bore no resemblance to who she’d been before Everton.
Now, however, that determination rose fiercely.
Staring into the cabinet of whips, Valerie grabbed that slim, brown leather one first, throwing it onto the gleaming floor. Then her hands snatched at the rest, ripping them from their slots, and chucking them onto the growing mound on the floor.
When all of them were gone from the cabinet, she went upstairs to the small sitting area that clients sometimes used if they came too early. She snagged a bottle of orange brandy and an Old Earth lighter that still worked.
Back in the basement, she poured the brandy over the whips and ropes. Then she tossed the flared lighter onto the pile and watched as the flames grew, licking at the material, feeding on it.
Valerie watched from the doorway, her jaw set as she watched the flames grow and grow. Something unleashed from her, some small part of her that had always felt trapped and frightened, as she watched the ropes curling and blackening. Smoke drifted up her nostrils but she wasn’t concerned about the fire growing. It would smolder on the slick floor and die out.
But it was a message to her aunt. It told Madame Allegria that Valerie expected her to keep her word. That she would never touch the Keriv’i again. That she would pay them what she owed them. And that she would let them go.
Unhooking the chains from the ceiling, she tossed them onto the flickering pile too for good measure, though they wouldn’t burn.
Then she turned her back, pressing her lips together as she imagined her aunt’s face when she found the ruined collection that she’d built up through the years.
Next on her list that morning was going to Eve Tesler’s townhome in the Garden District. The townhome that Eve had left to Valerie before she’d departed Everton with Khiva. A townhome filled to the brim with furniture and collectable items that were worth a small fortune. Not to mention the property value itself.
Valerie hadn’t wanted to sell it based on principle…that it wasn’t hers, that it had belonged to Eve and her late father, that it had been a home of love and safety.
But now…Eve was gone and Valerie intended to use the townhome as her Plan B.
Valerie ascended the steps from the basement floor and walked into the lobby, and she froze when she saw Dravka, her footsteps momentarily faltering.
He was sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting area, next to the gold trolley cart she’d snagged the bottle of brandy off of. His arms were outstretched across the thick Old Earth-style leather armchair, his fingers drumming across the material.
Madame Allegria was off colony, after all. And when she was, the Keriv’i were free to…wander.
When he saw the basement door open, his gaze flashed up to hers, those dark opal eyes hitting her like a punch in the gut. Why did looking at him make her want to scream? Why did looking at him make her want him so much, want what could’ve been…in another life?
Acceptance and resignation mingled with her fierce determination was a strange sensation. It weighed heavily on her shoulders, but filled her with a sense of freedom and lightness and bravery that she hadn’t felt in years.
“What are you doing up so early?” she asked, shutting the door to the basement behind her firmly, not wanting the scent of smoke to escape. The open-cage elevator also went down to the basement but she couldn’t help if the smell drifted up through the shaft.
After last night, she knew she owed him an apology. He’d only been concerned for her and she’d turned him away. But his presence had been almost too much to bear after the events of yesterday, after having all the hope for a better future ripped out from unde
rneath her.
What she could guarantee, however, was a better future for Dravka. For Tavak and Ravu. She could ensure that no more Keriv’i were brought to the New Earth colonies.
That was her purpose now.
Her question was a foolish one, but his unexpected presence had caught her off guard. The Keriv’i didn’t need as much sleep as humans did. And given that his client left before midnight, he’d had plenty of time to rest through the night.
“Is there anything you need?” she asked, clearing her throat, swallowing as he stood from the armchair. “Or do Tavak and Ravu need anything? I can send for food if—”
“Val,” Dravka voiced, cutting her sentence short.
She stopped talking and rubbed at her bare arms. Despite the seasons changing soon—thanks to the Programmers—and despite summer being just around the corner—and her inevitable wedding to Gabriel Larchmont—the brothel felt cold that morning.
Dravka stepped forward, his eyes trailing over her form. At her loose-fitting pants and thin, old, comfortable t-shirt. Suddenly, she realized that it had once belonged to Dravka, the shirt. Earlier on, during her first year at the brothel, she’d been in charge of laundry collection. Dravka’s shirt had gotten stuck in with her own laundry…and she’d simply never returned it to him. She kept it tied and knotted at her hip, or else the length would trail well to her knees.
It swamped her in size, but it was her favorite item of clothing. It only mildly embarrassed her that he saw her wearing it now.
If he recognized it, he didn’t say anything, but she watched as his nostrils flared.
A stray thought hit her then, one that brought a new wave of regret and sadness over her.
I’ll never know what it’s like to kiss him, she realized.
She ducked her head to keep him from seeing whatever it was that flashed across her features at that thought. But it felt wrong to her…that she had loved this male for close to five years—almost since the first moment she’d seen him—and she would never know what it felt like to kiss him, to cuddle with him, to embrace him the way she craved.
“I came down to check on you,” he murmured in the echoing quiet of the brothel’s lobby. It was a cavernous space. The brothel had once been the mansion of a merchant trader who had since moved to Genesis. They were in its foyer, similar to though smaller than the Larchmont’s foyer where they’d held their night ball yesterday. Above them was a twinkling chandelier and behind them was a grand staircase leading to the upper floors.
“Right,” Valerie murmured, clenching her fists at her sides, before putting on a small, wavering smile and looking up at him. “I’m sorry about yesterday. It was…it was a long day and I…”
She trailed off, not quite knowing how to explain. For some reason, the engagement didn’t seem real yet. They had obviously been discussing it for a while, without Valerie knowing. Gabriel had known who she was, after all, and had seemed to agree to this arrangement.
Not only that…but she couldn’t actually imagine saying the words out loud to Dravka: I’m engaged to someone I barely know. It would feel final. Done.
It had barely been twenty-four hours since she’d found out that her aunt had essentially sold her into an arranged marriage.
“I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” Dravka said, walking a few steps forward until they were an arm’s length away.
He was barefoot, his feet padding on the soft rug underneath him. He wore pants and a t-shirt, just like her, and she wondered what he’d worn when he lived on Kerivu. She’d never asked about Kerivu fashion. It seemed like such a silly thing to wonder about now.
“I’m all right,” she said softly, holding his gaze purposefully when all she wanted was to shy away. She could barely look at him last night. She didn’t want him to worry now. “I just needed sleep and rest. I haven’t gotten much this week.”
After a long moment of tense silence, Valerie relaxed slightly when he nodded, seeming to accept her answer.
“Where did you go yesterday?”
Valerie licked her lips, highly aware that Dravka’s gaze followed the quick movement. “Madame Allegria wanted me to accompany her to a…a party.”
He frowned. “Why?”
Valerie only shook her head, lifting her shoulder in a shrug. Her eyes strayed to the door, the main entrance to the brothel. She had a long day of cataloguing Eve Tesler’s townhouse and she wanted to get everything sold off within the week. Madame Allegria would return to Everton in two days and she needed to make the most of her absence. She rarely tracked Valerie’s movements, after all, when she was off colony.
“Val,” Dravka said again, catching her attention. Her breath hitched when he stepped closer and reached out a hand, strong and warm and gentle, to touch her cheek. “Come take your breakfast upstairs. We can talk. We have all day.”
He knows, was what Valerie thought. He knew something was wrong. Of course he did. Valerie was a terrible liar and Dravka knew her too well.
“I—I can’t,” she said. “I have to go somewhere.”
She winced, knowing that now she would have to explain.
“Where?” he asked. The look on his face was serious. As serious as she’d ever seen him.
She decided to tell him a little bit of the truth.
“I’m going to Eve Tesler’s townhouse,” she said softly, trying to judge his reaction.
Dravka blinked, his dark pupils flickering back and forth between her own.
“Why?”
“She left it to us,” Valerie told him, though he already knew that. In addition to that, Eve and Khiva had given them a credit card loaded with 2700 credits, though Dravka had that hidden away in his bedroom. It was the amount that Eve Tesler had believed Khiva was being paid for her visits to him, credits that she believed were owed to him.
It was enough to buy passage off Everton for the Keriv’is, but wouldn’t last them much longer. The townhouse, however, and the credits that Madame Allegria would be paying the Keriv’i—Valerie would make sure she did—upon their departure from the brothel would be enough for them to live off of, all three of them, for the rest of their lives. In peace. Without ever worrying about their livelihood again.
“What are you planning to do there?” Dravka asked, that serious expression never leaving his face.
“I’m selling everything,” she whispered, feeling the pad of his forefinger stroke her cheek. Longing went through her. Affection. No one touched her but Dravka. “And putting the credits into a universal account. One she can’t find.”
“Val,” he rasped, “if she finds out that you’re—”
“She won’t,” she told him. “And even if she does, I refuse to be afraid of her. No more.”
His brow bone lowered but she took a step away from him, his hand sliding away from her cheek. Being around him was stoking that desire within her. It was making her shake. It was allowing that fear to rise again, fear that things were never going to be the same.
There would need to be distance between them if Valerie didn’t want her heart to shatter into a million pieces when this was over.
Not letting Dravka touch her would be a good first step to moving forward. His touch was a reminder of…
Of everything. And it was too wonderful and too painful to bear. Not right then.
“You don’t have to be afraid of her either,” Valerie told him, watching his brow bones slam down even further. “She won’t touch you anymore. Any of you. I promise.”
“Valerie, what are—”
“I have to go,” she told him. “I don’t have a lot of time before she comes back to Everton.”
“Let me come with you then.”
“No!” she said quickly.
Even Dravka seemed taken aback by her abrupt response.
But the thought of being alone with him, freed of this place with all its ugly memories…Valerie feared what would happen. They’d never been alone outside the brothel before. Together. In some ways, it
would feel like an unshackling. An unshackling of the tensely restrained desire and want and need.
“No,” she said, though this time more softly. “You should stay here, Dravka. And you know why.”
His nostrils flared at those last words.
“I’ll be back later this evening,” she said, turning to the door.
Behind her, Dravka’s words made her freeze, her hand stilling on the knob of the entrance.
“I’ll find out what it is, Valerie,” he murmured. “I’ll find out what’s wrong. I’m the last being in this universe that you can hide from, mellkia.”
If he had been speaking to anyone else, his words would’ve sounded like a threat. But they weren’t. She didn’t know what mellkia meant in Keriv’i, but she heard the way his voice softened as he said it, as if there was beauty and reverence in that single word, beauty and reverence he had saved just for her.
Valerie’s hand twitched and the door pushed open. A shaft of light peeked in the lobby of the brothel and she stepped outside into the early morning.
With Dravka’s words of promise ringing in her ears, she fled to the Garden District.
Chapter Eight
The moment Valerie left, Dravka stood in silence for a brief moment.
Then his gaze turned to the door that led down to her room…and the other room that lay below.
Keriv’is’ senses were better than humans’. He’d smelled the smoke shortly before Valerie arrived on the lobby floor.
Pressing his lips together, he journeyed down to the basement, his bare feet padding on the smooth stone of the staircase. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils and he turned left at the base of the stairs, slowly striding towards the black door at the other end of the hallway.
When he pushed it open, his eyes focused on the smoldering pile of…
He frowned, his mind beginning to whirl.
Why had Valerie burned her aunt’s whips? Those same whips that they had all felt lashing across their backs now were blackened from fire. A horrible stench was in the air. There was very little ventilation down in the basement and Valerie would smell the lingerings of smoke for many weeks.
