His jaw dropped. He glanced at Rohn, to verify that he heard what he thought he heard. The older male pressed his lips together in a desperate effort to keep from laughing.
“Bad news for Rohn,” Jaxar said, speaking before thinking.
Nakia pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, covering her expression. “I heard it once I said it, but this isn’t a joke. I’m upset with you!”
His good mood drained away, understanding that he misread the situation. “Why?”
Nakia wiped her hands with a towel, perhaps using more force than necessary, and threw it onto the counter. She turned to her mate and said, “I thought he was supposed to be smart.”
“In some areas. In others, he desperately needs guidance,” Rohn said. His tawny eyes gleamed and he tossed his horns back, clearly enjoying himself. Recently, their positions had been reversed, and it had been Rohn with a mate he did not understand and Jaxar in the position to smugly give advice.
Jaxar growled in frustration, not enthusiastic about his current position or Rohn’s self-satisfied tone. “What has happened?”
“Oh, Nakia, I like her so much, but I’m too shy to talk to her,” Nakia said in a mocking tone. “I just want to know that she’s comfortable. Please, please, please.”
He never said such words, nor did he sound so pathetic, but he did not correct Nakia’s recollection of their conversation. She would not appreciate it.
“There are rules for a reason!” Nakia pulled open a drawer with too much force, the contents rattling. She grabbed a wooden spoon and brandished it at him. “To stop you from grabbing women off the street when you get all hopped up on hormones. Ugh, I can’t even with you!” The wooden spoon hit the counter with a loud crack, breaking in two. She held up the damaged utensil, bottom lip quivering. “Dammit, I liked that spoon.”
“Try to be calm,” Rohn said, taking the broken spoon from his mate.
“I did not grab Vanessa off the street,” Jaxar protested.
“No, you found a loophole.”
“The warlord approved of the plan.”
Nakia rolled her eyes. “Did you tell him that she said no?”
He squared his shoulders, refusing to look down in shame or squirm with discomfort. “She said she needed more time. I arranged circumstances to give her all the time she required.”
“She said no.”
Jaxar remembered the kiss they shared. His fangs scraped the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She tensed but relaxed when he licked the sensitive skin. “She was mistaken.”
“Unbelievable. No one wants to be treated like an object, Jaxar. You can’t buy someone’s contract because they won’t date you.”
“The moon was too dangerous for her to remain,” he said.
“So, you know better?”
“Yes.” He nodded, confident in his answer. He had not been mistaken in the way Vanessa’s body reacted to his, the heat in their kiss, or the reluctant sigh as they parted. Her velvety brown eyes held such sorrow as she confessed why her ex-mate disavowed her. She said a male like Jaxar could never want her.
Vanessa was wrong.
“You just don’t get it,” Nakia said, her sharp tone dragging him away from his thoughts. She pushed the plate holding the wobbling green substance forward. Movement rippled through the cube and it was the most disgusting thing he ever saw. Bits of fruit were held within, floating in a sea of green ooze.
“Not a fan?” she asked, spoon poised above the cube. “It’s full of vitamins. The taste is a bit bland for lime, but it’ll help the baby grow. Want to try a bite?”
She held out a spoonful, the green jellied substance rocking back and forth. The piece of fruit encased within remained still. It held no natural smell, just sugar and an artificial fruit flavoring. How was that food?
His top lip curled back. “No.”
“But it’s good for you.” The spoon lurched forward, but he dodged easily. “Come on. You can’t say you don’t like it if you haven’t tried it.”
“No. I do not wish to ingest this.”
“It’s a traditional Earth dish, made from gelatin found in bones. That’s why we call it jelly.”
“It is not appealing.”
She held up the plate and slowly brought it closer. He stepped back, tossing a look to Rohn for support, but the older male only shook his head.
“You got a problem with goop made from bone marrow? It’s mostly protein and this has been fortified with vitamins. It’ll help you be big and strong,” Nakia said. She then picked up the cube—trembling and oscillating in her bare hand in a most disturbing fashion—and shoved it against his mouth.
Jaxar turned his head away, refusing to ingest the bone marrow goop, fortified or not, and a significant amount went up his nose. The substance melted as soon as it came in contact with his skin and it burned in a sugary, fruity mess. He coughed and lurched away to the sink. In vain, he tried to scrub the taste away, but it was in his nose and it overpowered his senses.
“You are cruel,” he said. The goop had slithered down his throat. It did not taste of lime, he had experienced the tart Terran lime before, but it tasted green.
“Stop complaining. It’s good for you so you have no right to be upset,” Nakia said, arms folded over her chest.
“I yield. I understand,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. She had hardly been subtle in her message.
“Cheese and crackers, Jaxar. I told her that you were a good guy.”
“Thank you.”
“And you have the nerve to ask me to intercede on your behalf after you pull this shit? Is this like a rebound thing? Because Rohn is retiring?”
Jaxar turned the concept over in his mind. He was sorry his friend planned to leave, but Vanessa was not some grasping move of desperation made from a fear of being left behind. She was his choice. “I do not wish to go another day without her. I want hers to be the first face I see in the morning and the last I see every night.”
“That’s real sweet, but I’m not the one you need to tell that to.”
“How do I fix this?” he asked.
Nakia gave him a solemn look. “I’m not sure you can.”
Chapter 12
Vanessa
A few days after cookies and coffee with Nakia, Van got a live phone call from Esme. Not a recording or even the more probable text message, considering the poor network connections on the Vel Mori moon.
“How is the connection so stable? There’s zero static.” Van tossed herself down on the sofa. A thin, flickering image of Esme filled the far wall.
“Turns out basic communication tech works when you’re living in civilized space.”
Van snorted. “I would not call that moon civilized.”
Esme’s smile dimmed. “I’m not there anymore. No one is. Oh, Van, you’re so lucky you left when you did.”
Alarm pricked down her back. Had there been another attack? Jaxar said the shield would hold. He had a lot—a lot—of flaws, but she didn’t believe him to be a liar. “What happened? Are you okay? Where are you?”
Van jumped to her feet and stalked to the screen, as if that would help her inspect Esme. Did she look pale? Thinner? Bags under her eyes? The image was only from the waist up, so Van had no idea what was hidden off-camera.
“I’m fine. Honestly,” Esme said.
“You don’t look fine. You look exhausted.”
“I haven’t slept much since the evacuation.”
Van groaned. “You’re killing me here. Just tell me what happened.”
“Apparently some of the tunnels collapsed in the raid?” Even though her tone implied it was a question, Esme didn’t wait for Van to answer. “The inspectors are saying it was a gas leak. There was a fire.”
“I reported the collapsed tunnel,” Van said. She didn’t remember the noxious odor of leaking gas, but she wasn’t surprised. She was even less surprised that no one had bothered to repair it or check the lines for leaks. “Was anyone hurt? What ha
ppened to Trey and Mateo?”
Esme nodded. “The guys are both completely fine. They weren’t anywhere near the fire. No one was hurt more than some minor burns and smoke inhalation. That guy Teddy went missing but the rumor is he was a stowaway on a ship. No casualties, thank God. But, Van, the fire was in your dome. It was—” Esme turned away from the camera for a moment, her voice thick with emotion. “You could have—” She wiped her cheeks.” I’m so glad you weren’t there. I don’t think I could have handled it.”
“I wasn’t. Nothing happened. I’m fine.” Her words failed to calm Esme, who cried openly. Van always admired that about her, the way Esme wore her heart on her sleeve, the complete opposite of Van’s guarded and cautious heart. “I haven’t told you about my new digs. Can you see it? The whole cabin is bigger than that bungalow we shared.” Van stepped to one side to let the camera get a better view of the room. “It’s a bit bare right now. I’m not the best with decorating.”
“It’s so dark,” Esme said between sniffs, her voice uneven.
“Well, I can’t do my moody sulking in a brightly lit room, can I? Rocky loves it.” Van displayed the fungus for the camera. He was looking healthy, if she did say so herself.
“He must love the atmosphere.”
“And the brooding. We gossip about boys all the time.”
Esme gave a strangled sort of laugh. “Are you okay? Those… Are they treating you well?”
Van had listened to Esme’s subtle digs against the Mahdfel for a long time but never said anything. Personally, she harbored some anger in her soul, but it was nothing compared to the hatred in Esme’s voice whenever the conversation turned to the aliens. “Yeah, they are. Everyone has been helpful. There are even a few humans on board. I’m sort of an odd duck, but no one has been weird about it.” Van suspected that Jaxar scared off anyone who harbored an intention to flirt, which was fine by her. Just learning new names and the ship’s layout was enough to keep her busy for the foreseeable future. Flirting with one alien was more than enough.
Not that she was flirting with Jaxar. Ugh. Just no. Even forgetting what happened between them before his shenanigans, he’d been hiding from her like a coward since she arrived, and she was too furious to speak to him. The next time she saw him, they would definitely not be flirting. She wanted to grab him by his stupid horns and yank him down so she could look him in the eye.
When they were eye to eye, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Kiss him or punch him. Maybe both.
“I worry about you on your own. You can’t trust them,” Esme said, pulling Van away from her thoughts. She had no idea what her friend and former roommate had against the aliens, but that chip on her shoulder was pretty damn big.
“What happened after the fire? You said there were inspectors,” Van said.
“Oh. Well, it turns out the company had a ton of safety violations. Inspectors shut the entire place down. We’re being relocated to other positions, but we were given the chance to get out of our contracts if we wanted.”
“What did you do?”
“Right now, I’m at a station near Sangrin. I’m waiting for a ride.” Esme looked around. “Not a lot of time left. The computer is beeping at me. I’ll send you a message when I get there! Love you. Miss you! Don’t overwater Rocky.”
Van repeated the sentiments before the call disconnected. She sat Rocky back on his shelf and adjusted the pot so the tendrils would not be bunched up against the wall. “I guess we were pretty lucky, huh?”
Esme did not share the details of the fire, but Van’s imagination supplied all the horrors of what could have gone wrong, how she could have been caught by the flames and trapped. Only Van did not feel lucky. She felt that Jaxar would use that information as justification for his high-handed behavior.
She lifted her chin, determined not to give him the satisfaction.
Jaxar
The screen flashed with an incoming message. Jaxar swiped to ignore the call, not willing to sacrifice his already thin concentration. The situation with Vanessa—how he fucked up and how he might repair relations between them—occupied his thoughts. He kept his body busy with routine tasks, letting the familiar rhythm of work soothe him. It was a good plan. Such actions had succeeded in the past.
His plan failed.
He avoided his quarters because the empty room reminded him how desperately he wished to share the space and everyday activities with his mate.
His office was a cramped, cluttered room. There was not enough space for a grown male to shake his horns. He’d pick up a project, get distracted or grow frustrated, discard it, and move on to the next project. Half-finished projects took up every surface in the room and only reminded him how he wanted to stay busy to avoid thinking of her.
If he left his office, invariably he encountered someone speaking of her, which he could admit was entirely his fault. He tasked his team to check—not to spy, no matter what Nakia said—on his mate and they were fascinated by the Terran female. Occasionally he spotted her in passing. His body would tense, wanting to go to her and apologize, but his sluggish mind misbehaved and he froze in place. By the time he regained control, she had already ducked through a door or left the corridor.
None of it mattered. He had a large project to oversee, ripe with plenty of distractions which meant he’d never have an idle moment or sit alone in his quarters.
The screen flashed again with another call.
“What?” Jaxar grumbled as he accepted the call.
Stanelle grinned from the screen. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy.” True, but he had also been avoiding Stanelle. He did not need further reminders of how those he cared for were leaving him.
“Too busy to answer a wedding invitation?”
“Yes.” Jaxar sighed. “Get on with the criticism. Everyone seems to have something to say.”
“Oh? What did you do?” Stanelle seemed far too gleeful about the prospect of Jaxar having made a mistake.
“I do not wish to talk about it.” There. Problem averted.
“Has that ever worked? You can’t ignore your problems forever.”
Jaxar ran a hand up the back of his head. “A wedding? Dania has already been mated. I attended. Is your memory faulty in your advancing age?”
“That was the engagement party. You know this.” Stanelle scrubbed a hand over his face. The lighting highlighted every wrinkle and sag in his face, casting an aura of weariness over him. “The wedding seems like an excuse to spend all my money.”
“You like parties.”
“I love them. Especially the ones I don’t pay for. Will you attend?”
Jaxar glanced around the crowded room, littered with half-finished projects. “I cannot abandon my duties.”
“That’s shit and you know it.”
“We are in the middle of a very tricky rehab. My clan requires me.”
Stanelle leaned in closer to the screen. “Is that a supply closet?”
“No,” Jaxar replied, caught off-guard by the question.
“Clearly you’re too busy to clean. Come home, Jaxar. You missed the baby’s birth.”
Purposefully. What was the point of holding another infant in his arms when they would be grown before he was ready? They would eventually leave their strange “uncle” who they saw once a year, at most, and take his heart. Why bother? He was a male destined to be alone. It was better to cut ties with his Sangrin family now.
Jaxar picked up the closest item on the desk and tossed it in the waste bin. He was tired of being surrounded by useless junk.
“Come home,” Stanelle said.
“What is the point? To allow you to flaunt your family in my face?” He swept all the items off his desk into the bin.
There. He had more room to think. Perhaps he could catch his breath.
“You know that is not true. You may be technically my cousin, but I have always considered you my brother. Dania says you are her favorite uncle. Now expla
in this foul mood.”
“I am her only uncle,” Jaxar said, choosing the option to tease Stanelle rather than divulge that he found his mate, damaged his chances with Vanessa, then hid behind his work to avoid confronting the disaster of his own making. Stanelle waited patiently, letting the silence stretch out between them. Eventually, Jaxar settled on, “I have made mistakes.”
“Remove your head from your ass and dance with your niece and get all gooey-eyed over my granddaughter. I don’t care about mistakes or some obscure code of honor you violated. You’re my brother and I love you.”
“Understood,” Jaxar muttered. He had not violated an obscure code of honor but had behaved dishonorably and violated Vanessa’s trust.
Time to get his head out of his ass and make it right.
Chapter 13
Vanessa
In the week following the call with Esme, building materials and equipment arrived on her abandoned level, cluttering the corridor. The constant noise of voices and the clanging of tools drifted into her cabin, ruining her perfect solitude.
As promised, Nakia reappeared two days later with a letter of complaint. “I started with the contractor, as that seemed the most straightforward. Give it a read and tell me your thoughts.”
The black letters of the document glowed against the gray screen of the tablet. Van read it twice, her hands gripping the device too tightly. The formal language sounded nothing like her. It made no apologies for waiting so long to report the infraction and cited several regulations for the contractors that had been wholly ignored.
“Thank you. It’s perfect,” she said. Her hands trembled, forcing her to set the tablet down. The letter had weight, importance. Even the letterhead at the top, reading “Nakia Sykes, Esq.” had gravitas.
“It’s just a standard complaint.”
“No, really. This is a lot. Thank you so much.” For the first time in ages, perhaps ever, she had control. No longer reacting, being bounced around from event to event with little say in what happened, Nakia helped Van take charge of her own damn self. “This is… I can’t say. How much do I owe you?”
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