Savage Desire (The Infinite City Book 4)

by Tiffany Roberts

  This incident with Mortannis wasn’t the first time an alien had been rough around Yuri, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first time she’d nearly been pulverized. She hadn’t meant to slap the onigox but—

  Come on! The big jerk had it coming to him. He deserved it.

  Touching the staff was off limits in Starlight Trance unless that staff member had granted explicit permission, and Yuri sure as hell hadn’t given Mortannis the okay. So, it served the onigox right that Thargen had kicked the shit out of him. Yuri knew Ruunok and the other bouncers would’ve taken care of it whether Thargen had intervened or not, but how much damage could Mortannis have caused in those precious seconds?

  Would she have even survived?

  She’d been lucky to land a job here shortly after immigrating to Arthos; a lot of humans had trouble finding good work in the city, still seen as exotic and untried. The pay was decent, and it had paired well with the Consortium guaranteed income she’d received during her first year here—well enough to enable Yuri and her younger brother, Takashi, to rent a relatively nice little apartment. And the owner of Starlight Trance, Lyrani, cared about her staff’s wellbeing. She didn’t take kindly to anyone—including other staff members—harassing her employees.

  When Yuri reached the concealed door, she raised her wrist and held it up to the ID scanner. The tiny light on the panel flashed green, and the door slid open. She stepped into the hallway beyond and pulled Thargen in behind her. The air was noticeably cooler here; she welcomed its soothing touch.

  The door closed, plunging the hall into a silence that was almost deafening after spending so long with the thumping music and dozens of indistinct conversations as a backdrop.

  Yuri glanced at Thargen over her shoulder. “Almost there.”

  He nodded.

  There was blood spattered on his face, but she didn’t relinquish her hold on him even though that glimpse of blood made her stomach flip. A little voice in the back of her mind whispered that she should be just as afraid of him as she’d been of Mortannis. Thargen had fought three opponents, one of whom was significantly larger and heavier than him, without a hint of fear or hesitation—and displaying a savagery she’d never seen in person.

  But he did it to protect me.

  She led him around the corner and stopped at the first door on the right, tapping the entry button. When the door slid open, she leaned her head through the doorway. The breakroom was deserted—no one was at the tables or on the couch, and the holo screen in the corner was turned off. That sent a pulse of relief through her; even if a little part of her said she shouldn’t be alone with Thargen, she didn’t want to answer any questions from her coworkers, didn’t want an audience.

  Yuri released Thargen’s arm as she stepped into the breakroom. “Go ahead and take a seat while I grab the medical kit.”

  He strode to the nearest table, pulled out a chair with his foot, and sat down, leaning back casually with thighs spread wide apart like nothing important had happened and he was just here to hang out.

  Like he wasn’t covered in blood.

  Well, covered was a severe exaggeration, but to Yuri, there was little difference between a few drops of blood and a bucketful.

  Yuri turned her face away from him as she walked across the room to the cabinet over the sink. Opening one of the cabinet doors, she stood on her toes and reached blindly for the med kit that was always up on that high shelf.

  Yuri knew there were races here on Arthos that were the same size as humans—and many that were even smaller—so why did it seem like half the stuff in the city was built for giants?

  Her fingertips brushed the side of the kit, pushing it back.

  “Damn it,” she muttered, lifting a knee onto the counter to boost herself higher. “Come on.”

  A large hand passed over her head. For an instant, Thargen’s hard, hot body pressed against her from behind. His scent enveloped her—earthy amber, almost honeylike, with hints of leather and metal—and she breathed it in greedily.

  Yuri’s heart quickened, and heat flooded her in a rush. Her stomach was all aflutter from his nearness.

  And had any man ever smelled so damn good?

  Thargen plucked the med kit off the shelf and stepped back.

  She climbed down, turned, and looked up at him. His lips were stretched into a grin around the pair of five-centimeter-long tusks jutting from his lower jaw. She realized suddenly that this was her first real look at him under normal lighting, without all the pulsing neon and ultraviolet out on the club floor.

  He was big, of course—easily around two meters tall—and he was powerfully built. When he’d joked about being good looking, she hadn’t feigned her agreement; he had a strong, squared jaw, a wide mouth with dark, full lips, and a narrow nose that was slightly crooked, as though it’d been broken a few times, but that didn’t take away from his attractiveness. His skin—which had appeared much darker at the bar—was a light olive green, nearly the same color as her eyes.

  Long, black, slashing brows rested over his intense golden eyes, and there were several hoop and studded piercings in his pointed ears, one of which was covered by his long, black, braided hair. The right side of his head was shaved to display the jagged, wicked scars that ran from his temple to the back of his head; they only added to his dangerous allure. There was a crimson tattoo on his right cheek. Yuri recognized its central symbol as a battle-axe, but the markings surrounding it were meaningless to her.

  Her gaze dipped lower. He was dressed in a vest, a pair of black pants, and heavy looking combat boots, granting him a militaristic flair. But she didn’t know of any soldiers who wore uniforms that kept their brawny arms bared, displaying every scar and sculpted muscle openly. The collar of that vest plunged particularly low, as well, giving her a nice view of his broad chest and the top of his toned abs.

  Watch it, Yuri. You probably got some drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth.

  But he’s so damn yummy.

  “I know it’s hard, Yuri,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice.

  “Hmm? What?” She blinked and returned her gaze up to his. “What’s hard?”

  “Hard not to stare. That’s why I don’t keep any mirrors in my room.”

  Yuri laughed. “So…you just wake up looking that good, huh?”

  “Funny enough, I did just wake up looking like this one day,” he said, lifting his bloody right hand to tap the scars on the side of his head.

  The sight of that blood reminded Yuri why they were here—and, unfortunately, made her stomach churn, killing whatever mood might’ve otherwise built through their flirtation.

  She swallowed thickly and waved a hand toward the table he’d been sitting at a few moments ago. “Let’s, uh…get you taken care of.”

  Thargen tilted his head. “You all right, terran? You’re looking a little green. No offense, but it doesn’t look as good on you as it does me.”

  She forced her eyes away from his hand, and an embarrassed chuckle escaped her. “I…don’t really like the sight of blood.”

  He grunted thoughtfully and held the med kit out to her. “You take this, then. I’m gonna wash up. If that doesn’t help, it’s okay. Wouldn’t be the first time I had to patch myself up, and I heal pretty fast, anyway.”

  His thoughtfulness touched her as much as it relieved her, but those feelings were followed by a hint of sadness. From what she could see, Thargen was covered in scars. How hard had his life been? What horrors had he witnessed, what pain had he endured?

  Yuri took the medical kit from him, walked to the table, and pulled out a chair. She sat with her back toward him. “It’s kind of funny, actually.”

  The faucet turned on, and the sound of flowing water was disrupted a moment later, likely because he’d put his hands in.

  “What’s funny, Yuri?”

  A thrill swept through her. She really liked the way he said her name, all rumbly and gravelly. It did all kinds of things to her
body.

  “My mom was a nurse, and I was so eager to follow in her footsteps when I was younger. Nurses work hard, you know? They do so much to help people in need, to heal them and comfort them, and I wanted to do that. So I went to nursing school right out of high school. The standard UTF programs have nursing students doing hands-on training after the first eighteen months. I’d been a top student before then, but once I had to look at real blood…”

  She laughed again and shook her head as she opened the kit and found the items she’d need to tend his wounds, setting them aside one at a time. Last was the medtool, a ten-centimeter-long device with a curve leading to a little metal disc at one end. It was a deceptively simple looking tool; according to Yuri’s mother, these little things had all but revolutionized emergency medical care when they were first introduced on Earth about thirty years ago.

  “I only fainted outright once or twice,” Yuri continued, “but I almost always felt like I would—and like I was going to puke. I made it into my second year before I had to face reality. I just…couldn’t do it.”

  “This might sound strange, and probably runs the risk of scaring you away”—Thargen turned off the water—“but sometimes I wish the sight of blood made me sick.”

  Yuri furrowed her brows and twisted to look back at Thargen. “Why?”

  His hands were in front of the drying pad on the wall. The pad released a soft ding before he pulled away from it and turned toward her. He’d washed his face, leaving glistening droplets of water in place of the flecks of blood that had been on his skin only moments before.

  Thargen’s expression was grave as he walked toward her. “Because a big part of me likes the blood. I’ve been a fighter for as long as I can remember. That’s all I know. And I like it.”

  She cringed. “Is that how you got all your scars? Fighting?”

  “Yeah, in some war or another.” He eased onto the chair beside Yuri, moving slowly as though to avoid startling her. “I’m not some rogue lunatic, Yuri. I mean, I have my moments, but… I was a soldier. That’s where most of my scars came from. I’m told I fought for my people with courage and honor.”

  Yuri smiled and held out her hand. “Give me your hand and let’s see if we can keep from adding to those scars.”

  Thargen hesitated as he extended his arm. “Sure you’ll be okay?”

  Yuri gave him a deadpan stare. “I promise I won’t puke on you.”

  He grinned. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “You’re not allowed to throw my words back at me until you deliver on that cake,” she said with a laugh.

  He chuckled and laid his arm atop the table, palm turned upward. “All right. I’m counting on you, little terran.”

  There were several cuts on his palm, and the overhead light made a few of the bits of glass embedded in those cuts gleam like tiny, bloody gemstones.

  Her stomach protested immediately.

  Knock it off. You can do this.

  She flicked on the medtool, activating its little projection screen, and ran a quick scan to pinpoint the shards stuck in his palm; she could spot all of them with her naked eye but one. After setting the medtool aside, she opened one of the antiseptic wipe packets and used the corner of a wipe to sanitize the tweezers. She took careful hold of his hand to draw it closer and started removing the glass.

  Each time blood seeped from his wounds, Yuri wiped it away with the antiseptic cloth and swallowed her bile, affording herself the briefest glimpses of crimson as possible. If she was hurting him, he made no indication of it apart from the occasional twitch of his fingers.

  “You said you were told you fought for your people with courage and honor,” Yuri said. “What’d you mean by that?”

  “Just what I said, I guess. This happened”—he turned his head to gesture at those wicked scars—“and pretty much erased most of my memories of everything before. I see flashes here and there, but nothing I can really hold on to. I remember a lot of impersonal stuff, vorgal history and traditions and all that, but that’s about it.”

  “Oh.” Yuri frowned as she ran her eyes over the scars. “From the looks of it, you’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Luck’s a big part of it, yeah. Also had a really good friend watching my back. He was a combat medic.” He turned his gaze back to her, brow furrowing. “How you holding up, terran?”

  She chuckled. “I’m not puking, so that’s a good sign.” She flashed him a smile before dropping her eyes to the mess that was his palm. Her stomach revolted, making a mortifying gurgle. She ignored it as she wiped more blood away and plucked another tiny shard from his torn flesh.

  A flash of cold swept through her, and her heart raced.

  I can do this. I can do this.

  It was the least she could do after Thargen stopped that onigox from pulverizing her.

  “If it means anything, I’m trying to bleed as little as possible.” Thargen covered her hand with his, engulfing it completely and halting its trembling—which she hadn’t even noticed. “Take a minute, Yuri. I promise I’ll be okay.”

  She stared at his hand, tracing the crisscross patterns of his faded scars with her eyes. It helped. His hand was warm, and its heat flowed into her soothingly. He had a really, really nice hand. Like, a sexy as hell hand—big and strong with long fingers, black nails, and defined knuckles, made all the sexier by those scars. She was seriously a sucker for hands like his.

  Oh, who was she kidding? She was a sucker for him.

  Yuri inhaled deeply through her nose and slowly exhaled through her mouth. She hated feeling so weak over something as minor as a few cuts. All she needed was something to keep her mind occupied as she worked—something other than Thargen’s strong hands and sexy body. She needed to have at least a little focus left for the task at hand.

  “Distract me,” she said. “What do you do when you’re not at a bar guzzling booze and breaking heads open?”

  Thargen chuckled and shook his head. A little part of him wished he was guzzling more booze right now. His Rage had subsided, but it had burned away his buzz, leaving him with nothing to dull the sting of his cut-up palm. Maybe smashing the glass against the onigox’s face hadn’t been the smartest move, but it had seemed the best one at the time. Mortannis had possessed the advantage in size, reach, strength, and limb count, so a surprise attack, coupled with a bit of dirty fighting, had been Thargen’s best bet.

  Besides, smashing a glass into the unsuspecting bastard’s face had been nothing compared to Mortannis laying hands on this tiny terran. Cowards like him didn’t deserve a fair fight.

  “It depends,” he said. “Sometimes I sit in a room kinda like this one and guzzle booze. Sometimes I break heads open. Mostly I stand guard at doors or monitor security feeds.”

  And on very rare occasions, he went to new places and broke heads open, but those weren’t instances that needed to be mentioned now.

  Yuri gently took hold of his hand and lifted it off hers, guiding it onto the table. Her eyes briefly met his before she resumed her work. “You’re a security guard then?”

  “I prefer the title security specialist. Sounds more dignified.”

  She chuckled. “What’s wrong with guard?”

  Thargen shrugged, watching her little hands move and keeping his fingers as still as possible despite the flares of pain. “Guess it just reminds me of the boring parts. A lot of it is just sitting or standing around, waiting for something to happen. Wanting something to happen, even though I don’t really want that because it puts my friends in danger.”

  Yuri ran the antiseptic wipe over his palm, sparking a fresh burn. “I think I got all the glass.” She set the tweezers down and looked away from his hand, her gaze suddenly far away and unfocused. Her pale skin still had that slight green tinge. “Is that why you came here? Hoping for a fight without involving your friends?”

  He wasn’t sure why he was being so open with her, or why he felt so at ease around her, or where this gentlenes
s he was showing her had come from. All Thargen knew was that he wanted her to feel safe around him…and talking to her helped lessen the weight of his Rage.

  “Honestly, I just wanted to go out for a drink, and my usual place—where I was pretty much guaranteed a fight—was closed down. Some fucking Consortium health code violation or something.” He released a heavy sigh and willed the tension that had been building in his hand to ease. “I wandered until I got tired of wandering, and this was the first place I noticed.”

  She smiled and picked up the medtool again. “I’m glad your usual place was closed.” Yuri stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath, snapping her gaze up to his. “I mean, that is, uh… Well, I am glad to have met you, and I guess I’m being a little presumptuous in thinking… That is… Ugh!” Cheeks pinkening, she ducked her head, drew his hand closer, and set the medtool to work sealing the cuts on his palm. “You’re hot.”

  The medtool’s tiny lasers traced warm, faintly stinging sensations on Thargen’s hand, but he barely registered them in his confusion. His brow furrowed. “Guess I did get a little worked up back there, but I feel all right. Unless… Am I running a fever or something?”

  Her eyebrows drew together, forming a little crease between them, and she peeked up at him. “Huh? No, you’re fine... Oh!” She laughed and shook her head. “You took that literally, of course. Stupid translators.” Biting her bottom lip, she sealed his final cut. “Look, I’m not good at this kind of stuff, flirting and all that. What I meant was…I find you attractive.”

  A slow grin stretched across his lips, and heat spread through his chest. His Rage whispered again—that lustful beckoning that produced a tingle low in his belly. “I’d worry if you didn’t. Can I tell you something, Yuri?”