The Dark Places

by D. Martin

  I lifted my legs and crossed them over his back while I clung with fierce possession to him. My lips stole fevered kisses from his mouth, and then I trailed kisses along his neck and across his chest.

  Long sensation-filled minutes later, we both shuddered with our release. His warm wetness filled me and satiation stole over my body, relaxing it. My worries diminished about my new mate and the disturbing condition that bound us. We lay joined together for an unmarked time in our own cocoon of contented intimacy.

  Matt kissed the top of my head and then both my temples. I drifted off into a drowsy bliss until his quiet voice pulled me back into consciousness.

  “Don’t fall asleep yet, doll. We haven’t toasted our union with champagne yet.”

  I didn’t open my eyes, but I’d known him long enough by now to at least hazard a guess from the gentle, indulgent tone underlying his words that his dark eyes must have been sparking with bright amusement. “Mmm,” I answered, rubbing my cheek against his hard shoulder. I didn’t want anything but to stay snuggled in his warmth and addictive, light spice-musk male scent. Although my arms tightened around him, he slowly pulled away anyway and slipped from the bed with a parting kiss.

  My drowsy brain distantly registered running water coming from the bathroom. Then the distinctive pop from uncorked champagne roused me momentarily. Before I drifted away again, Matt had returned to the bed with two crystal goblets three-quarters full of golden effervescent wine.

  “It’s a Harnaru vintage from seven years ago. I’m guessing that was a good year for the lucky winery’s grapes back then.” His lips quirked with a wry smile as he carefully settled on the bed’s edge near me.

  Fruity aromas teased my nose. I sat up, pushed back tumbled curls from my eyes, and accepted the delicate stem on the crystal he presented to me.

  “To the missing part of my soul that Fate has sent me,” he said with his gaze boring into mine.

  “To you, Matt,” I whispered in a husky voice, acutely aware—despite the past few hours and our recently shared intimacy—that I knew little about him. I didn’t dare add anything complacent and optimistic like “to our future” or “to love.” This impulsive relationship was surely short-lived, and we’d never mentioned anything about love between us. Only that troubling imprinting matter.

  His glass touched mine, and a brief, gentle chime cleaved the room’s deep silence. Our gazes locked over the crystal rims as we drank the bubbling, lighthearted bitter-sweetness. My brain couldn’t cull up anything brightly conversational or intimate to say. Instead, I recalled his kisses. My gaze drifted down to appreciate his well-formed body before flicking back up to those fascinating eyes, and I smiled across my glass.

  When we’d drained the last of the champagne from our glasses, Matt set them aside. His strong arms corralled me again. My treacherous body willingly melted against him and allowed him to weave deeper bindings upon my evolving emotions that entangled more around his intriguing presence.

  Chapter Three

  I blinked drowsily at the well-groomed, alert man standing beside me in the port complex as we waited for lift clearance. Our night as a mated couple had been torrid and brief before, true to his word, my new husband had wakened me and transported me to my hotel studio to pack and cancel my residence lease.

  My few personal possessions had never amounted to much, but shame had assailed me at my erstwhile home’s frugality. Barmaids didn’t earn much, and strict flight baggage limitations meant I’d bought little with me when I’d fled Dearleth. Matt had evinced no change in expression, nor manner, as he’d demonstrated brisk efficiency in helping me pack my travel bags with the few mementoes and clothing I’d wished to keep.

  I kept my fledgling writing attempts imprinted on microdisks and my protyper, along with a precious book hoard on microdisks. I also retained my paint box, filled with pigments and brushes, but I’d trashed all the Harnaru canvasses, except one Matt insisted on keeping. While he was occupied with wrapping it, I had swapped my day-old black coveralls for a tight red pair I’d salvaged from the packing. They made me feel less dowdy at least next to him. He was resplendent in a fresh dark blue tunic and matching pants tucked into his boots.

  After an admiring glance at his retreating form as he carried the protected painting over to rest on the floor against a wall, my outfit suddenly seemed lackluster. So I’d snatched up a small sandalwood jewelry box I hadn’t packed yet and extracted the untarnished necklace that had descended through my mother’s line. I rarely wore the daunting thing. Faceted amethyst stones studded the circlet, composed of flat cast-silver ovals. One had to peer closely before realizing they were little leering skulls. They honor the goddess of life and death. The necklace contains female power, my mother and aunts had avowed with furtive glances. I should have left it behind on Dearleth and saved the baggage weight. Since I had no other adornments, I’d clasped it around my neck. The warm, open approval in Matt’s wide-eyed expression when he turned and viewed my revamped appearance melted my core.

  I carried nothing now. We’d tendered up our flight bags and the carefully wrapped canvas to the port’s check-in system soon after a taxi flitter had delivered us here. My hands were left without anything to keep them from gripping each other while preflight jitters occupied my thoughts. The small bouquet Matt’s hotel had thoughtfully provided would have kept my restless fingers still. But when Matt had explained flower pollen inside starships was problematic for life-support system filters, I’d left it behind with regret.

  My curious stare focused on Matt as he turned away to punch in his request for lift clearance again into the port terminal’s flight control comp. The port controllers had moments ago cancelled his first request, as another ship had priority for that time slot. My mate looked not in the least done in by his long evening of drinking, or by his sudden marriage and wedding night. I wondered at his physiology.

  Who is Matt Lorins—really? My sleep-deprived brain stalled. I blinked away my bleary focus and tried not to worry about Harry’s concerned bewilderment when I’d called three hours ago before we left the hotel. The Lilith stayed open far into the early morning hours, so that made it easy to catch up with Harry. I figured I should call him since it looked like Matt was intent on whisking me off the planet, and I didn’t know when there’d come an opportunity to contact him and let him know all was well—so far.

  “You can’t be serious, Kai!” Harry had thundered over the receiver. “You’ve only known this guy for a coupla hours! At least don’t go until you find out more about him. He could be anything—a criminal, a madman, homicidal maniac, or slaver. Don’t go yet. Kai—I’m telling ya, check him out with the Interplex Records first.”

  Matt had been in the shower at the time. I felt underhanded and sneaky calling Harry in secret to tell him what I’d done, and that I wouldn’t be showing up at the Lilith that night, or any other. And would he also, please, dump my final paycheck owed, plus my earned tips, into my citizen account, as always?

  I will need it to escape, if I’ve made a horrible gamble….

  Matt’s penetrating dark eyes had seared into mine when he’d emerged from his ablutions, but he’d said nothing. However, guilt made me squirm.

  Matt returned to my side from the port terminal comp. “We have clearance, doll. A port crew is transporting our luggage to my ship while her auxiliary tanks are refueling. We have ten minutes or so until refueling is complete. Do you feel like trying to eat something?”

  He’d tried to get me to eat before we left the Marnu Grande, but I had no appetite. An aching sensation plagued my lower regions and abdomen after our impassioned night’s activities and Matt’s deep thrusts. I congratulated myself for remembering to have my three-year Fertipressor implants renewed on precise schedule the week before I ever met Matt Lorins. At least I don’t have to worry about taking care of someone tiny whenever this strange liaison ends—sooner or later.

  “Thank you, Matt, but no.”

  A group of ea
rly morning travelers came into the port terminal, chatting with loud animation and headed toward where we stood. Matt led me from the flight request comps to clear their path to it.

  He pulled me close and lowered his head to murmur into my ear. “Second thoughts?”

  He always seems to guess what I’m thinking. I didn’t know how to answer.

  He lifted my hands to his warm lips. My stomach quivered at the gentle kiss he pressed upon one and then the other. No one had ever treated me like a highborn, or a celebrity—or anything precious.

  “I have no regrets,” he whispered. “Remember that, my lady.”

  Despite my conflicting emotions about him, I longed to hug him, but sudden shyness held me back. Matt, however, had no such reservations. He enfolded me in a long embrace and rested a cheek upon the top of my head before releasing me.

  “Anyone else you wish to call before we lift, doll?” he asked in an even, expressionless tone.

  I glanced up while swift guilt slashed through my heart and froze it. A green haze appeared in his eyes and vanished. He knows about my call to Harry. I backed away. Then I calmed my panic, realizing he’d probably found out about the room call when he had settled at the Grande Marnu Hotel’s desk before checkout. I berated myself for not guessing intercity calls would get tracked and tabulated by that fancy hotel.

  “I have one other call to make, Matt,” I answered between stiff lips.

  “Ten minutes, doll,” he said in a low, silken tone before his hand swept with leisurely grace behind him at the wall of unoccupied comm-net phones.

  I fled before courage failed me and hurried past the row containing only flimsy, open partitions between them, until I came to an enclosed privacy cubicle at the end.

  When I turned to secure the door, Matt stood watching me. Ignoring my heart’s spiked beat, I spun around, inserted my citizen credit voucher, and punched in the call direction from memory.

  “Interplex Operations,” an efficient female voice promptly informed me.

  “Would you please transfer me to the Intersystem Alliance Citizens’ Records Directory?” I spoke as low as I could into the metal wall panel’s audio inset, with my back turned toward Matt. I wasn’t chancing he could read lips from a distance.

  A brief chime sequence in my ear indicated the call’s transference. When a brisk, male voice asked my business, I requested any information compiled on a Matt Lorins, presently on stopover on Harnaru in Marnu City and very recently lodged at the Marnu Grande Hotel. No—I didn’t know his InterAlliance Citizen Registry Code.

  There was a polite command to hold while my request cycled through planetary and interstellar system profiles and credit comps.

  My fingers clenched and unclenched and then tapped an impatient tattoo on the call panel while I waited for the silence to end. There isn’t much time left! Relief washed through me when the voice came back.

  “We have some information compiled from Interplex records on twenty-four planets in twenty-one sun systems. Time periods for this compilation began approximately five standard years ago. Which time period are you interested and what types of information profiles?”

  “Major transactions or legal documents generated in the last two years only, please.” Hollow dismay echoed in my voice and heart. Only five years of records. Who was Matt Lorins before that? Had he changed his identity five years ago? I wanted to hear every year of data, but I was nervous about the onward marching of time.

  “These are major transactions conducted two years ago. On the Twelfth Day of the Second Month of Alliance Standard Year 0190, subject, Matt Lorins, InterAlliance Citizen Registry Code 44J111O-5499SMK09, had property documents drawn up and notarized on Belrad in the Kane System. On the Sixteenth Day of the Second Month of that year, the subject requested docking rights for two standard weeks and ship supplies on Kranan in the Kane System. Within that time period, he made five major purchase transactions.”

  The Interplex agent rapidly droned on and on while I shifted from foot to foot, anxious about the elapsing time. The agent had only reached the Fourth Month of that year, 0192, four standard months ago, before Harnaru—and me. There wasn’t any way I’d ask him to skip anything now. My drifting attention sharpened, and I leaned closer to the panel’s audio inset.

  “Interplex comps report that nothing was logged upon the subject in question for the entire Fifth Month of this year. On the Tenth day of the Sixth Month, subject accrued a large amount of credits on the Credit Central Comp on Shern’s Haven in the Conrad System. On the Thirtieth Day, the last day of the Seventh Month of this year, subject requested docking rights and ship supplies upon Rill in the same system, Conrad, for six standard days. On the Seventh Day of the Eighth Month, he checked into a hotel establishment on Rill, same system. Subject made a large purchase transaction and checked out on the Twelfth Day of the Eighth Month and requested lift clearance.

  “On the Fifteenth day of the Eight Month, subject requested docking rights on Harnaru in the Manning System, as well as ship supplies. Subject also checked into a hotel establishment on the same date. On the Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month, subject signed and had notarized an open-term marriage tract with one Kailiri Summers, registered out of the Dearleth Mining Colonies in the Manning Systems. On the Sixteenth Day of the Eighth Month, subject checked out of hotel and requested lift clearance from the Marnu Interstellar Port. That’s all the information to date Interplex has compiled for Matt Lorins.

  “This information will be charged to your citizen credit,” said the brisk voice. “Interplex charges are accrued on a time basis. The total duration of your information request was eight standard minutes and twenty seconds. Your charge is thirty-five-point-eight credits. Thank you for calling Interplex, Miss Summers. Updates indicate you are now Mrs. Lorins. May I congratulate you on your recent first marriage to Mr. Matt Lorins and remind you to update your new formal name change with Alliance Credit Central? Your Citizen Credit Voucher will no longer be viable after today. You must register your name change before an updated voucher will be issued to you.”

  “Thank you,” I said hollowly. Good thing there was just enough in my citizen account to cover the fee, until Harry transferred my final pay and tips. Interplex could become downright vengeful whenever they set out to recover funds owed to them.

  I swallowed to alleviate the dry tension gripping my throat as I cleared the call entry from the comm-net panel. No one could accuse Interplex of not keeping updated records. They’d just demonstrated superfast correlation speeds. Their information computers had deciphered my maiden name from the voucher card, and upon locating the marriage documents to Matt Lorins, they had immediately cross-referenced, verified, and then updated the Interplex agent. I would register my name change later with Alliance Credit Central. There wasn’t any time left to deal with corporate bureaucracy.

  I turned, opened the privacy booth, and found Matt standing by the large shockproof plastaglass windows overlooking the port. A dazed, empty feeling engulfed my heart as I walked slowly toward him. He didn’t turn, appearing absorbed with studying the ground crews’ refueling and inspection activity upon various ships.

  “Are you prepared to leave now doll?” He didn’t glance at me when I stopped near him.

  “I’m ready.”

  What was his name five years ago?

  He swung around abruptly and walked with ground-eating strides toward the port doors that opened onto the docking area. I hurried behind, ignored for several seconds until he stopped and waited for me. Matt gave me a hard, probing stare before he grasped my hand and resumed his brisk pace across the concrete.

  The pavement was heat-crazed in various places from Harnaru’s blazing white sunstar and from intense, fiery blasts from many ships’ engine jets. The newly risen sun gave a foretaste of the full heat that would soon roast the atmosphere. Barely visible heat wraiths radiated across the distance in wavering layers from the ground. I swiped at my moist forehead with my free hand and longed for th
e terminal’s cooler air-conditioned interior.

  Matt showed no sign that the toasty morning temperature affected him. He pulled me past the forest of various-styled intersystem star ships at a relentless pace. Although I was unfamiliar with ship types, I recognized the larger ones taking up huge real estate on the pavement as crew-operated, professional merchanters. I had no time to gawk at the different vessels before Matt dragged me along. He could have hired a port flitter to take us to his vessel, but Matt’s path seemed not to be toward the landing field’s distant, more heavily populated area, but a nearby, outer-edge section.

  We stopped below a graceful, silver-and-gold vessel. It was about one-quarter the size of the behemoth merchanters we’d passed, but it was respectable, nevertheless. The ship lay delicately poised at a horizontal position on her landing gear struts. Our luggage, along with several small shipping crates and the large, wrapped Harnaru canvas, were neatly stacked beside the vessel.

  The port’s maintenance and refueling crew was retracting their tanker’s robo-feed arm and preparing to depart in their large service hauler tanker. One of the gray-uniformed crew trotted toward us. The harried-looking, stocky man carried a digi-pad and looked like he was in charge.

  “All the potable water tanks’ recycling systems are good, and the life support systems for eighty-twenty O-Two-Nitrogen air recirculation are recharged and in excellent condition. The auxiliary fuel tanks are at 100 percent. She checks out also on all externally accessible engine systems, Mr. Lorins, and your M-Cells are good, no recharge needed. The port will send the full checklist shortly to your ship comps.” The man consulted his digi-pad. “Ah—and all the items you ordered from the port’s general store depot are over there with your luggage.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate your help.” Matt nodded.

  “Our pleasure. We hope to see you again at the Marnu Interstellar Port, Mr. Lorins.” The service crewman scurried away and hopped onto the service tanker with his work crew. They took off for their next destination through the pavement’s shimmering heat ghosts.