by Kali Argent
Sage, answered on the second ring, raising her voice over the sound of metallic clanging in the background. “Charli, I was just about to call. I’m not going to be able to make it to brunch. One of the pipes in the kitchen burst this morning, and the plumber is still here.”
“That’s actually why I was calling. None of my pipes exploded, but something came up, and I won’t be able to make it, either.” She couldn’t resist teasing her friend a little. “Is the plumber cute?”
Sage huffed at her. “He’s old enough to be my dad with a beer belly and a lot of hair, just not on his head.”
They both laughed before turning the conversation to inconsequential things, like the recent storm and rescheduling their brunch date. “Next weekend is good for me.” Charli mentally scrolled through her rather unimpressive social schedule. “How about Sunday? Same time?”
“I don’t work Sundays, so I’m free and clear. I’ll pencil you in,” Sage teased. “So, you never did say what came up. Why did you need to cancel today?”
While Charli searched for a plausible excuse that didn’t involve demons or time-traveling aliens, the bathroom door creaked open. Light spilled into the small alcove that separated her living room from the bedroom and bathroom, and Charli leaned over the arm of the sofa, intending to signal Vane to be quiet while she spoke with Sage. The last thing she needed was to have to explain the presence of a man in her apartment.
Her jaw dropped, and all coherent thought vanished when Vane stepped through the doorway with only a towel slung low on his hips. Water dripped from the ends of his damp hair, trickling down his bronzed chest and between the grooves of his cobblestone abs. Steam wafted from the open bathroom, bringing to her the scent of sugar and vanilla. She’d used that soap a thousand times, and never once had she found the perfume of it so intoxicating.
“Charli? Hello?”
Charli fumbled the phone, cursing when she nearly dropped it. “Uh, Sage, I’m going to have to call you back.” Then she disconnected the call without waiting for a response. “Hi,” she said when Vane arched an eyebrow at her. “Good shower?”
“Yes.” He held his clothes in one hand and his boots in the other. “Your bathing room is very small, though.”
“Is that what you call it on Nekron? A bathing room? We just call it a bathroom. Which is kind of silly when you think about it.” Charli’s gaze traveled to Vane’s thigh where it stuck out from the slit in the towel. “I mean, I guess it’s a room with a bath, so maybe that makes sense. What about powder rooms, though?”
“Charlotte,” Vane interrupted with a huff. “Is there somewhere I can change without twisting myself into a knot?”
Flicking her wrist, she motioned to the other side of the alcove to indicate her bedroom door. “You can use my room.” She’d cleaned during the night when she’d been too restless to sleep, so there shouldn’t be anything embarrassing for him to find. “Are you leaving again?”
He dipped his head. “I have to find the Morph.”
Sighing when Vane disappeared into her bedroom, Charli threw the blanket back and jumped up from the sofa. “He’s going to get himself killed,” she muttered as he passed by Xavian who still sat on the barstool at the counter. “I need more coffee. Do you want coffee?”
“He’s a soldier,” Xavian said in placating tones. “Give him some credit.”
“I don’t doubt his abilities.” Bringing her steaming mug to the counter, she slid onto the seat beside Xavian and lowered her voice. “He didn’t sleep at all last night, and I don’t think he slept much the night before that, either. He’s running on caffeine and determination.”
“Trust me, we’ve made it on less.”
Charli pursed her lips and glared. “Is being stubborn a Nekros thing? Or is it just the two of you?” Vane wouldn’t be any use in a fight if he could barely stay on his feet. “He needs rest.”
“I’m not debating that, but I’m telling you, it’s not going to happen.” Xavian’s tone held a subtle note of exasperation as he fisted his hands on the countertop. “Let it go, Charli.”
“Fine, I won’t say anything.” She’d let it go, but she didn’t have to be happy about it. “For now.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“The portal will only stay open for another thirty-six hours at most.” Vane secured his hair at the nape of his neck with a rubber band Charlotte had given him. “If the Morph misses the portal, it’ll take a couple of weeks for him to recharge before he can make that big of a jump again.”
Leaning against the side of the building in the alleyway behind Charlotte’s apartment, Xavian nodded his agreement. “He won’t chance it. He’ll make his move soon.”
“He knows he can’t get to her.” They’d taken their conversation outdoors so as not to scare or upset Charlotte, but Vane spoke in hushed tones anyway. “Time is running out, and we have to assume the Morph is going to make his move soon.” Unbidden, his eyes strayed to the warm glow of light that filled Charlotte’s second-story window.
Xavian sighed and his eyebrows knitted together as he followed Vane’s gaze. “Man, I know you like the girl, but snap out of it. She has a life here, a pretty good one from what I can tell. Me and you? We don’t belong here.”
Tensing, Vane squared his shoulders and leveled a glare on his friend. “She’s an assignment. Nothing more.” The kiss they’d shared had been so much more, filled with promises of even better things to come, but he couldn’t think that way. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Xavian pushed away from the wall and closed the distance between them in two strides. “Look, I get it. Charli’s sweet, but this?” He motioned between Vane and the window above them. “This can’t happen. She’s too valuable.”
If Xavian had been anyone else, Vane would have belted him right in his damn mouth. “Watch yourself,” he snarled. Charlotte wasn’t some bauble to be collected like the relics they guarded back home. “Leave the girl out of this, and let’s just focus on finding the fucking Morph.” Their quarry had caused too much disruption, and the bastard had them running in circles while he hid right under their noses. “He’s taunting us, and I want this over.”
Vane was done playing games. The next time he met the Morphling, he wanted blood.
“If he can’t get to Charli—”
“He’ll do something to draw her into the open,” Vane finished. “We need to be ready for it.”
“You know, maybe that’s not a bad idea.” Resting his hands on his hips, Xavian stared at the moon’s reflection in a puddle created by the recent rains and bobbed his head. “We draw him out into the open.”
“How do you propose we do that?” They’d been trying—and failing—for three days to track down the asshole.
“Use the girl.”
“No,” Vane snapped. “We’re not using her as bait.” His friend had clearly lost his mind if he thought Vane would allow Charlotte anywhere near the demon. “We’ll find another way.”
“Jupiter rising, I’m not having this conversation with you.” Leaning closer, Xavian stopped just an inch from Vane’s nose and growled. “You want to protect the girl? Then get your head in the game and out of your fucking pants.”
The tense silence stretched on as he and Xavian glared at one another. As much as it pained Vane to admit it, the guy had a point. Charlotte clouded his judgment, made him want things he had no business wanting. He couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t make the hard but necessary decisions when it came to the female. For days, he’d been trying to convince himself Charlotte was just another job, just one more damsel in distress in need of rescuing.
Vane couldn’t pretend anymore. “Okay,” he answered, his tone quiet and devoid of emotion. “We’ll do it your way.”
The tension eased from Xavian’s shoulders, and the hard set of his jaw softened when he sighed. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you, but I am sorry. I wish it could be different.”
So did Vane. “I’m going to talk to
Charlotte, let her know the new plan.”
Partly true, but mostly, he just wanted to see her again. He’d watched her silhouette float past the window, could hear her soft footsteps as she paced, but being away from her made him anxious. Charlotte tripped every one of his protective instincts, and the desire to slay her demons—both literally and figuratively—nearly overwhelmed him.
Something in his expression must have given him away, because Xavian clapped a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “You have to let her go, Vane. You know that, right?”
Brushing the hand off, Vane grunted before vaulting over the low railing on the back stoop and marching into the shop’s kitchen. He slowed for a heartbeat as his eyes shifted to compensate for the darkness, casting the room into glowing shades of red, blue, and gray. Then he crossed the room and jogged up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time to the upper landing.
Vane lifted his hand to knock, but before he could, Charlotte wrenched the door open and folded her arms over her breasts, blocking his entrance into the apartment. She stared up at him through narrowed eyes, but the tremble of her bottom lip belied the anger projected in her body language.
“So.”
“So?” Vane repeated, mirroring her pose as he leaned against the doorframe.
“Where have you been?”
“Downstairs.” He’d seen her peek through the white lace curtains in her bedroom more than once. “You already knew that, though.” Arching an eyebrow at her, Vane straightened and moved closer, surprised when she didn’t retreat. “Why don’t you tell me what this is really about?”
Charlotte’s lips parted, but then she shook her head and stepped to the side to let him enter the apartment. “I ordered takeout. I hope you like mushrooms on your pizza.”
“You eat fungus on pizza?” Humans enjoyed the strangest things, and they made no sense to him.
“Yes.” Marching into the kitchen, Charlotte went straight to the refrigerator and jerked it open. “It’s delicious fungus.” She stared into the fridge for several seconds before slamming the door without removing anything. “Take your shirt off,” she demanded without looking at him.
Vane didn’t know what she intended to accomplish by the command, but something told him it had nothing to do with sex. “If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask.”
“I just did,” she countered. Clenching her hands at her thighs, she turned to face him with a sigh. “You have wings tattooed on your back, right?”
Vane nodded. “You saw them this morning when I got out of the shower.” He still didn’t know where she intended to go with the line of questioning, but he didn’t like it. His stomach tightened uncomfortably, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “Why do you want to know about my tattoos?”
“I didn’t see them this morning,” she argued. “I only saw you from the front.”
No, he really didn’t like the road she was headed down. “Charlotte, why don’t you just tell me what’s got your panties in a knot?”
Instead of answering, she stomped into the living room and snatched a rectangular, cardboard box off the end table. Dropping down on the sofa, she placed the box in her lap and lifted the lid to reach inside and extract a single photograph.
Curious, Vane shuffled closer, stopping on the other side of the side of the small, wooden coffee table. “What are you doing?”
“May 21, 2011.” Charlotte held the corner of the photo between her thumb and index finger and tapped it against the palm of her other hand. “I was in Las Vegas for my twenty-fifth birthday, and Sage talked me into getting tattoos to commemorate the occasion.”
“Okay.” Vane drew the word out, and his eyebrows knitted together. “I’m not following.”
“We picked some place at random.” With pursed lips, she shook her head. “I don’t even remember the name of it.” She shook her head again. “I’m standing there at the counter with Sage, and we’re discussing what kind of tattoos we should get. There’s this guy sitting in one of the chairs, shirt off and looking like he’d just walked off the cover of a GQ cover, and he calls me over.”
A lead weight formed in Vane’s stomach, and his mouth turned as dry as the desert sands on Ohtar. Years of discipline allowed him to maintain a neutral, almost disinterested expression, even as his entire world crumbled around him.
“Voodoo Tattoos,” he mumbled. What had only been a few years for Charlotte had been nearly a millennium for him, but he couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized her. “Your hair was shorter then.”
“So was yours,” she said. Standing, she rounded the table and stopped in front of him, her eyes dark and stormy as she stared up at him. “Sage had been taking pictures all weekend with this crappy disposable camera we bought at the airport.” Charlotte sighed and passed the photo to him. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
Without answering, Vane took the flimsy photo from her and closed his eyes as the memories came rushing back. He’d been in Nevada to retrieve some relic, a mirror that locals claimed showed them the future. After collecting the artifact and securing it on his ship, he’d returned to The Strip for a little recreation before the return journey home. After getting good and sloshed, he’d stumbled past Voodoo Tattoos, and for some inexplicable reason, had decided he needed a tattoo from Earth.
He never had learned her name, but he’d spotted the raven-haired beauty the minute she’d stepped into the building. His pulse had accelerated, his dick had swelled instantly, and he’d known right then that he had to have her. Unfortunately, the laws of his people prevented him from claiming a human, or even bedding one for that matter.
While Earthlings were still considered a young race, a thousand years ago—for him anyway—they hadn’t known much about the universe beyond their own solar system. So, long before they had discovered electricity or indoor plumbing, it had been decided by the advanced races of the galaxies that humans should be left to develop on their own.
Only within the last four hundred years had non-humanoids been allowed to visit the planet, and before that, harsh regulations had been set in place for the other races to prevent fraternization. Held to even higher standards because of his position as a soldier and the son of a decorated commander, Vane had known he’d never be able to possess Charlotte, not the way he wanted.
Driven by too much booze and not enough common sense, he’d been unable to stop himself from placing some kind of claim on her. The tattoo he’d hastily designed for her on a scrap of paper had been the Nekros’ military seal—a dagger with wings sprouting from the hilt—and his initials intricately woven into the handle. Even that small token of ownership would have landed his ass in front of the elders had anyone found out, but with her scent filling his head, he simply hadn’t cared.
The picture in his hand showed only his bare back as he hovered over the rolling tray table with a pen in his hand. His hair had been cropped short back then, and he hadn’t had nearly the muscle mass he did now. Charlotte stood just to the side of him, facing the camera and beaming as she held up both thumbs. Clearly, he hadn’t been the only one tipsy that night.
As he recounted the story, Charlotte fisted her hands on her hips, her brow creasing to form a shallow V above the bridge of her nose. The muscles in her jaw ticked, and her eyes narrowed when he got to the part about marking her, but she didn’t say anything.
When he’d finished, she took the photograph from his fingers and huffed. “How the hell did you hide a spaceship in the desert?”
He’d just admitted to basically branding her without even knowing her name, and she wanted to know about his spacecraft. “Area 51.” Vane shrugged when she gaped at him. “Yeah, it’s real. There have always been a few humans who have known about us.”
“I guess nothing surprises me anymore.” Groaning quietly, Charlotte rubbed her eyes and shook her head. “Okay, back up. About this tattoo…”
“Did you actually get it?” He’d left before she’d finished talking
to the artist, so he’d never known.
After a brief pause, Charlotte untied the drawstring of her pink and black checkered sleep pants and slid the waistband down, baring her left hip. Vane’s nostrils flared, and sweat slicked his palms. The selfish bastard in him swelled with satisfaction, and his cock throbbed at the sight of his design inked on her smooth skin.
Hesitantly, he reached toward her, watching her for any signs of distress. When she didn’t move, he stroked the tip of his index finger down the center of the dagger, growling when she shivered from his touch.
The bottom step of the staircase creaked, and muffled footsteps thudded against the aging wood, announcing Xavian’s return. Gritting his teeth, Vane pinched the waistband of Charlotte’s cotton pants and pulled them back up her waist.
“We’ll discuss this later.”
“Oh, you bet your ass we’re going to talk about this.” Charlotte moved closer, jabbing two fingers into his midsection. “Why did you just leave?” Her tone had lost its heat, and she sounded almost sad…dejected.
“I didn’t trust myself with you.” That much he remembered clearly. “I still don’t.”
The laws regarding interactions with Earthlings had changed in recent centuries, but Charlotte didn’t live in his time. He’d marked her once and walked away, and it would seem he’d be destined to repeat his past mistakes.
Before she could respond to his confession, the front door swung open, and Xavian stepped inside carrying a large, flat box. “Dinner is served,” he announced, laughing at his own joke as he dropped the pizza onto the bar counter. “The kid who dropped it off said you’d already paid over the phone.”
“I did.” With a last, fleeting glance at Vane, Charlotte moved into the kitchen and settled onto one of the two barstools. “Damn, I’m starving.” Opening the box, she selected a large slice of pepperoni and mushroom pizza and crammed at least a third of it into her mouth. “Mmm,” she moaned, closing her eyes. “So good.”
Amused by her theatrics, Vane sidled up behind her, reaching around her to confiscate his own slice. “I still don’t understand why you like fungus on your food.”