by Viki Storm
Now I’m going to be pissed if he doesn’t do it.
“Then I’m going to tell you that human females aren’t the obedient type,” I say, because whatever I do, I cannot let him know how turned on I am at that suggestion.
“I get it,” he says. “Your defiance is a ploy to receive the firm discipline that your hot little body craves.”
“Don’t you need to focus on your mission?” I say.
“And that’s why I can’t have you tag along,” he says. “I can’t think straight when you’re around. All my warrior instincts are muddled. I have two warring yet equally strong urges: protecting you and completing my mission. If something happens and I have to choose, I’m going to choose you. And that makes me a terrible warrior.”
“I’m still not staying in the ship,” I say. “I want to see this jerk. Maybe I know him.”
“As you wish,” Auvok says. “But I still say you need a firm and guiding hand.” He slides his hand down my back then gives my ass a firm slap with his huge, strong hand.
We exit the ship and I start to shiver. I hate being cold. I grew up in a warm climate and can’t stand these cold, dark, distant planets.
Out of nowhere, a small craft descends in front of us. Auvok’s client gets out and walks towards us.
“The jewel,” he says.
“Disarm the explosive,” Auvok says.
“Give me the jewel first,” the client says. He’s wearing the same hooded cloak as the lackey at the fueling station, but it’s pulled back a little and I can see his face. It’s not as creepy as the guy at the fueling station. This guy here looks almost earnest.
“Disarm the explosive first,” Auvok says.
“Quite the predicament we have,” the client says. “We can argue about it for four more minutes, at which time your hangar will explode along with everyone and everything inside.”
“Show me your wrist,” I say. Auvok shoots me a look, but I stare right back at him with a steely gaze that could wilt a flower.
“My wrist?” his client says.
“Yeah,” I say. “Lift up your sleeves all the way to the shoulders.”
He doesn’t move, so Auvok points Fear Shard at him.
“It’s really not a very imposing weapon,” I say sympathetically. “But I’ve already seen him kill three people with it. If you want to keep all your blood inside your body, just lift up your damned sleeves so we can see the inside of your wrists.”
I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure I hear Auvok muffle a snort of laughter.
“Whatever you say,” the client insists, “but the clock is ticking. If you want to waste time making me show off a little skin, then that’s on you.”
He rolls up the sleeves of his cloak. No tattoo.
“It could be somewhere else,” Auvok says.
“I don’t really want to make him strip,” I say.
“That’s one thing we agree on,” the client says. “Are you two perverts done? There’s only two minutes left—you can spend them speculating about what I look like under my cloak or you can use them wisely by handing over the jewel and saving your friends’ lives.”
Auvok dips his fingers quickly into his waist-pouch and takes out the jewel. Even in the dim light, it sparkles like a star. This thing is an instrument of mind control? Bending the waves of electricity and controlling the neurons and synapses of the target, turning them into an unwitting puppet? Hard to believe. But Auvok believes it, and he’s been right about everything so far.
“Take it,” Auvok says. He tosses it to the client. I’m shocked. I thought Auvok was going to kick this guy’s ass. The client pops his hand out of his cloak and catches it. He holds it up to the light, his eyes almost as sparkly and wondrous as the jewel itself.
“Finally!” he says. “You have no idea how long I’ve searched for this!”
“I’ll bake you a cake,” Auvok says. “Now deactivate the explosive. If you keep your word, you can keep your life.”
“I would,” the client says as he tucks the jewel into one of the inner pockets of his cloak. “I really would love to. But I can’t. It’s utterly impossible.”
I watch as Auvok pulls Fear Shard from its sheath and point it at the client. “Nothing is impossible,” he says. “Deactivate it.”
“Not going to happen,” the client says, then with a twirl of his cloak, he disappears back into his ship.
Auvok curses and runs after the client. I glance at my watch. Whatever is going to happen, it’s happening now.
Chapter 13
Auvok
The coward runs to his ship, just as I’d expected. I laid this plan perfectly.
“Why did you do that?” Vela asks.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “My brothers come first. I’d give this slime-bag my foot if that’s what he’d asked for.”
“Lucky it was just a mind-control weapon,” she says.
“Stay here,” I tell her. I take out my comm-panel and initiate the engine-deactivation sequence. I beamed a program into his ship’s control system so that I can remotely control his ship. It’s a brilliant little piece of coding that Birik wrote, and it works every time.
Then something happens that I absolutely did not expect: he doesn’t try to start up his ship for a getaway.
“What’s that fucker doing in there?” Vela asks.
“Let’s find out,” I say, then quickly amend my statement. “And by ‘let’s’ I mean me only. Do not get on his ship. He’s likely lying in wait, ready to disintegrate our corporeal molecular bonds with one cowardly trigger pull.”
“Fine,” she says. I don’t trust her for a second, but there’s no time.
I break into a run, my legs delighted to glide over the ground. Running headfirst into a skirmish is one of the greatest joys a warrior can experience—second only to the pure pleasure of taking your wet and willing mate into bed and marking her with your seed.
Just as I’m getting my stride, the client pops back out of the ship. I almost crash into him. He’s got something in his outstretched hand, and a lesser male would have mistaken it for a particle blaster or raygun. But it’s neither of those things. It’s not even a weapon at all.
It’s a vid-screen.
It takes me a moment to process what I’m seeing. It’s the outside of the hangar. Irjai walks outside with a satchel of Eternal Dust slung over his shoulder, headed east.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“A real-time vid-feed,” he says. “There was no bomb.”
No bomb?
My fist lands right in his face, his lip squishing thin against his teeth. He stands dazed, eyes murky with disbelief the way everyone who gets sucker-punched looks.
“If there’s no bomb, then I’ll be taking the jewel,” I inform him. I tackle him to the ground, inhaling the dry dust as it clouds around us. Vela is shrieking, but her voice is a hundred miles away, faint as a coastal breeze.
I rip away his cloak and toss it behind me. “Check it for the jewel,” I shout to Vela. Rocks crunch under her boots as she runs to search it.
I rifle through his waist-pouch, but the jewel is not there. I’m not looking forward to a protracted search of his ship, but I’ll take it apart screw by rusty screw if I have to.
“Stop!” he squeals. “Let me explain.”
“You had your chance to explain,” I say, my knee grinding into his spine. “And naught but lies passed your lips.”
“I’m on your side!” he chokes.
“Don’t kill him,” Vela says. “He didn’t hurt anyone.”
My mate’s voice returns some of my sanity back to me.
“The jewel,” I say. “I will take it from you no matter what, so we can do this—”
“The easy way!” he says. “I’ll do it the easy way, just get off me before my spine snaps like a twig.”
Though he’s a liar, I release the pressure on his back. You can’t fake the notes of desperation and fear present in his voice.
“Found it
,” Vela says. I glance over my shoulder and see the fiery red stone clutched in her hand. My skin erupts in a cold sweat. My mate in possession of such a hotly sought-after item puts her at such great risk, I cannot stand it.
“Give it to me,” I tell her, standing up to my full height. “Now.”
She walks over and hands it to me, and I’m saddened to see dejection written all over her face. She’d been triumphant and I snapped at her.
I take her hand and look into those beautiful eyes. I have to remind myself not to get lost—that I’m on the job right now. “I’m sorry I spoke harshly to you,” I say. “But I fear for your safety, and that jewel puts you in danger. Remember all the miscreants trying to kill you when you didn’t even have it?”
“It’s fine,” she says and squeezes my hand.
“It’s not,” I say. “It won’t be fine until the thing’s destroyed. That’s the only way you’ll be safe.”
She smiles at me and it’s enough to stop my heart for a beat. When it resumes its rhythm, my blood is going hot and fast for her.
“You guys don’t understand,” my erstwhile client says, groaning as he sits up. He tries to brush the dust off his chest, but the iron-rich red will stain it for sure.
“Then enlighten us,” Vela says. “But I think you’ll be in for a surprise just how much we do understand.”
“You can start,” I say, “by telling us who you really are and who you really work for.”
“Then you know this jewel was not a stolen museum artifact,” the client says. “Very well. My name is Ennest. I cannot divulge who I work for, as I’ve sworn secrecy and will not breach his confidence.”
“Fine, Ennest,” I say. “But why does this mysterious benefactor of yours want his hands on the Jewel of Supreme Power so bad?”
“To destroy it,” Ennest says. He gets to his feet, trying again futilely to clean the red dust from his clothing.
This guy’s full of surprises.
“What a coincidence,” I say. “Because that’s what we’re going to do.” I look at Vela again, and my fists clench as I think of the crazed cultists who would have thought nothing of killing her to get the jewel.
“Do you know the ritual?” Ennest asks hopefully.
“What ritual?” Vela says.
“You had better come inside,” he tells us, motioning towards his ship.
Vela looks at me and I nod. I don’t sense anything untoward about him. He’s definitely not a pro. A pro would not have faked a bomb threat only to reveal the ruse the moment he got the jewel.
I have to stoop down to get inside his small ship. When I sit, my knees come up to my chest. Ennest syncs his vid-screen with the ship’s system and broadcasts a full-size picture of the jewel on his ship’s big screen.
“You know about the special properties of the jewel,” he says, “and its potential for nefarious purposes. It was said to have been carved by an expert jewelry maker, captured and possessed by Imperator Ingoull, Master of the Void. The jeweler was a humble man, but after he had one too many bad business deals, he sought out dark incantations to help restore his fortunes. Ingoull heard the cry of the jeweler’s weak and vulnerable spirit and took him into the mines. There the jeweler’s mind and body were corrupted, and he toiled day and night, nonstop, until he unearthed the perfect gemstone and cut it to exacting specifications.”
“Master of the Void?” Vela asks. “I believe in a lot of weird stuff, but you’re telling me that the boogeyman of kids’ stories is real and he created the jewel?”
“There’s evidence that Ingoull was once a man,” I explain. “A human. He committed many documented atrocities. But possession and dark incantations?” I shrug. I’m not sure where I stand on all that stuff. I’ve traveled far and wide, to more places in the Universe than almost anyone else does in their lifetime. I’ve seen things I cannot explain. Scientists have studied the Void for a thousand years and still do not know what compounds make it up. Antimatter they call it. Dark matter. But what is it? No one knows. They know it’s there because of mathematical equations. Maybe it harbors more Blackness than we give it credit for.
“It can be destroyed in a mineshaft,” Ennest continues. “But it has to be placed properly—and the correct Light incantation must be said.”
“And you’re sure we can’t just smash it with a hammer?” I ask.
“Is that your philosophy in life?” Vela asks. “When something gets in your way, smash it with a hammer?”
“It’s served me well thus far,” I say.
“It cannot be destroyed by any physical means. If it’s placed deep within the womb of a planet pure of heart, then the earth and rock itself can cleanse this gem of its evil purpose. The pressure will disintegrate the molecular bonds. The heat will warp the facets. It will return to the earth whence it came.”
“Why does your benefactor want to destroy it?” I ask. I’m suspicious of anyone who wants to do the right thing. The right thing is never easy, never profitable—and never popular.
“He is an archaeologist,” Ennest says. “He’s a scholar of Imperator Ingoull, the folklore and the true origins of the man. He heard rumors of a big red jewel that was unearthed in the Testa galaxy and knew it for what it truly was.”
“And he knows how to destroy it?” I ask.
“Absolutely,” Ennest says. I’m tempted to give the jewel back to him. I’m fairly certain he’s telling the truth. Still, something this important cannot be delegated.
My mate’s safety is involved and that’s my job. If I cannot protect my mate, I do not deserve her.
“Then let’s go,” I say, standing up as best I can on his small ship.
“You mean it?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “But I’m driving.”
Chapter 14
Vela
We’re only thirty minutes away from Ashima. Sticky sweat coats my palms and I have two grubby spots on the legs of my pants from compulsively wiping them.
“Nervous?” Ennest says.
“No,” I say. The word says it all, namely that the real answer is yes. I answered too fast, too loud and with a weird grin on my face that was supposed to be nonchalance but was more like a grimace of pain.
Auvok looks at me, and his eyes soften as they fill with concern. His pupils relax into a shape that’s almost a circle, the yellows and oranges of his eye swirling like a storm.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I insist.
“You can tell us,” Ennest tries to reassure me. Auvok grips the metal tabletop so hard that it starts to dimple underneath his fingertips. Ennest is about my age, maybe a few years older. He’s a good-looking guy, I suppose, and Auvok has been bristling the entire time we’ve been in the Vulp together. I suggested that we eat something, but being in the close confines of the mess area has only made Auvok’s jealousy grow.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I say. I know I have to give them something, or else they’ll never stop pestering me. “I did a job here once, didn’t care for it. The local warlord was a prick.”
Understatement of the century.
Auvok leans close to me, his voice a low murmur that tickles my ear. “Do not lie to your mate,” he says.
I open my mouth and for a split second the whole sad story almost spills out—starting from when I was orphaned as a kid to my recent endeavors as a smuggler. But my jaw reflexively snaps shut.
When you’ve kept a secret as long as I have, the lies become instinct.
“We should prepare for reentry,” Ennest says. “There’s a little time left, though, Vela. Will you please let me do something with your hair? I can fix it. You look like you got struck by lightning.”
“Go,” Auvok dismisses him. “You will not touch a single hair on her head.”
“Sorry,” I say to Ennest. “I like it wild.”
“Vela, tell me about Ashima,” Auvok says, chiding me as if I’m a wayward child. But I don’t feel like a child, not in the least
bit. His stern voice and authoritative presence stir up a not-unpleasant mix of desire and longing low in my belly. Heat starts to gather, tingly fluttery heat. “Do not lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” I say. I’m not, technically.
“You’re not telling me everything,” he says. “And you don’t have to. But you should. I will be better prepared to protect you if I know the full extent of your fear of Ashima.”
He keeps calling me his mate, and it sorta weirded me out at first, but after a few times, I barely notice. He’s got some fixation, I guess, I’m not sure. Virixian culture is pretty barbaric, all things considered. They’re the kind of males who would club a female over the head and drag her back to the cave.
Okay, that’s unfair and I know it.
In my bones, I know that Auvok would never club me over the head metaphorically or otherwise. But the fierceness with which he’s taken to me is barbaric.
But mates? I’m not even sure what that means. Humans get married and, more often than not, get divorced. Lots of us don’t even bother with the ceremony of marriage anymore, which is pretty depressing when you stop to think about it. When a Virixian takes a mate, is it for the weekend? For the year? For life?
There was definitely something serious going on when he took me after his brief battle with the pursuing pirate ship. Proof of life, Urzk Vix, he called it.
I’ve heard a lot of girls talk about sex, and the majority consensus is always: eh, don’t see what all the fuss is about. That’s why I never rushed to jump into bed with a guy. All I ever heard was that there’s no reason to get all worked up over a couple sweaty thrusts in the dark.
Yeah, no. That was not this.
There was something else there… something we created with our carnal union. A palpable feeling, something linking us together. Intimacy, I guess is what it’s called. But that word is so bland, fails to capture the intensity that’s bloomed between us.
Mates? Is that what it is? Why Auvok is insanely jealous of Ennest for no reason? Why I want to melt into Auvok’s arms every time I steal a quick glance at him—which is like every forty-five seconds?