We pile the dishes into the sonic cleanser companionably, and then stand in the kitchen, waiting for each other to speak. To figure out what to do with one another. It’s too early for bed, and I’m far too sober to invite him to join me. But parting again after all afternoon at opposite ends of the house feels…wrong.
I tilt my head and look up at him. “Slapjack?”
For the first time all day, a smile curves his feline mouth. “I would like that.”
A rush of warmth unfurls through me at his smile, and I realize that’s what’s been missing all day. He’s been utterly polite and kind, but he hasn’t been warm. He’s holding back, and…I don’t like it.
“I’ll get the cards,” I tell him, smiling back.
“Shall I get—”
Before he can finish the sentence, there’s a gentle ping that chimes through the house. “Perimeter alarm,” the computer says sweetly. “Local authorities incoming.”
Nassakth stiffens.
“That’s weird,” I whisper (and then I wonder why I’m whispering). “Why would the local authorities come here?”
“No clue.” Nassakth’s voice is utterly flat. I watch as he doesn’t head for the door, but goes to his war room instead. He returns a moment later with two blasters holstered to his belt and a wicked-looking knife strapped to his hip. He glances over at me and hesitates. “Perhaps you should hide.”
Hide…?
26
NASSAKTH
I am suspicious the moment the perimeter alarm goes off.
I have bribed the local authorities many times to ensure my (relative) obscurity. That is how things are done on Risda III. The locals make a show of spouting the laws and then hold their hands out for the appropriate bribe. Luckily for me, I have credits. Credits soothe away all problems. Everyone has their price.
So it’s very surprising to me to see Sivorrin, one of the port authorities, in his uniform, heading to my door. Even more surprising is the unknown figure at his side. A tall, mean-looking mesakkah with dingy, capped horns and a scarred face that tells me he served in the war.
I shoot Sivorrin an irritated look, and he deliberately avoids eye contact. “Greetings to you this fine day, Nass. My friend here has a few questions.” He tilts his head at the silent messakah.
Ah. Someone else has bribed Sivorrin more than I have.
I fight back a swell of irritation and step outside, closing the door behind me so they cannot look upon Kim. That is my mate. “You both dare greatly to approach a newly-mated praxiian at his home,” I say in greeting.
Sivorrin looks uncomfortable. The mesakkah just lifts his arm and begins to type into a wristpad. “We will not be here long,” the hard-faced man says. “The Homeworld bounty hunters guild is looking for this man in connection with multiple crimes. We’re paying well for any information that can be provided in regards to his location. I have been told he was last seen on this planet.”
I cross my arms over my chest. I hope Kim is inside, hiding as I told her to. Not because she is in danger—I will destroy them both before I let them even breathe upon her fair skin—but because I do not want her to worry.
The bounty hunter pulls up a holo-vid and the image is all too familiar. It is her second suitor, the one I got rid of and even now lies buried in my fields. He shows me the display, watching my face, and I notice several things about him. One of his eyes is cybernetic, scanning and recording information. The arm he holds out is synthetic. The weapons strapped to his waist are not the usual guild issue, which means he is either an independent bounty hunter or not one at all. Doesn’t matter. He’s not getting a single answer out of me.
“Haven’t seen him,” I comment blandly.
“He’s a slave trader,” the bounty hunter says. “Look again.”
I bare my teeth at the male. “I said I haven’t seen him.”
“I’m told he specialized in trading humans,” the bounty hunter continues, ignoring my words. His expression is assessing. Cold. “Is your new mate a praxiian?”
My jaw clenches and I look over at Sivorrin, wondering how much he’s spilled with the promise of a few credits. “Does it matter?”
“Does she know any human females? If so, I’d like to speak to her.”
My ears flatten and I can feel my fur prickling. Does he think to involve Kim? Or to pin this on her? I take a menacing step forward. “Perhaps you did not hear me when I said that I was newly mated?”
Sivorrin takes a step back and grabs the bounty hunter by the collar. “Jamef, maybe—”
The mesakkah flicks his hand away with a dangerous look. “Touch me again and you will lose that hand.”
Sivorrin shrinks back.
Jamef glances over at me. He looks around my serene homestead, full of greenery and open fields, and my costly, imported trees. He glances at the windows of my house, and then finally back at me. “If you hear of anything, I’m paying for information. Nothing more. My bounty is simply to provide his whereabouts, be it dead or alive.”
“If he drops by and threatens my mate, he will be very dead,” I snarl. “Much like anyone else who comes to my porch with demands in regards to her.”
The bounty hunter gives me a crisp nod. “I will be in port for several weeks. Contact this one”—he flicks a dismissive gesture at the cowering Sivorrin—“if you have information.” He turns to leave, and Sivorrin shoots me an apologetic look before scampering after the bounty hunter.
Fists clenched, I watch as they depart, and it’s not until they’re gone, the air-sled vanished into the horizon, that I turn and head back inside.
Kim is immediately at the door, her face pale and worried. “Nassakth, what’s going on?”
I should sit her down. Calmly explain to her that there is nothing to fear. That I will let no one touch her or even speak to her if she does not wish it. That she is utterly safe with me. But things are still too new between us, too fresh.
And I worry Kim will slip away before I can even win her.
My emotions are at war as I gaze down at her. There is a charming little frown on her brow, but she looks up at me with trusting eyes. Eyes that have no idea I have already killed twice over outside the arena—once to protect myself, and once to protect her.
Because I am selfish, I grab her and pull her into my arms, tucking her against my chest. I stroke her head, petting her. “It is nothing. You are safe.”
Her voice is muffled against my chest fur, but she does not pull away. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
A very good question. Because I would rather die than return to a life of slavery. It would be death either way—an aging fighter with a reputation such as mine? I would not last long at all. I would be tossed in front of every gladiator looking to make a name for himself, and it would be a brutal, ugly, and possibly humiliating death. I have always known this, and I have sworn that if anyone came for me, I would go down fighting.
But then I met Kim.
Kim has changed everything. She is a complication I did not anticipate. Now, every move I make must have Kim’s safety in mind….and I am not entirely sure what to do. The bounty hunter will be back. He will be looking for “additional information.” It was in his veiled hint about how long he would remain in port. If he thought there was no information to be found, he would not bother to stay.