Havik: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 9)

by Nancey Cummings

  Tension in the air crackled between them. They could come together or push away, ignoring their mutual attraction.

  He leaned in, intending to brush away the sheen of sauce clinging to the corner of her lips.

  Something soft pelted him in the back of the head.

  Annoyed, he dropped Thalia’s foot and whipped around. Ren stood in the kitchen area, taking aim with a bread roll.

  “Oh, good, you are not busy. We need to discuss the fuel situation,” he said. Calmly, he split the roll and slathered it with butter, acting for all the stars like he had intended to eat the food all along and not use it as a missile. “I require your assistance. In another part of the ship. Alone.”

  Havik glanced at Thalia, who had sunk back into the cushions of the built-in seating. Grabbing a pillow, she placed it over herself like a shield. “Might as well. It’s not like you were enjoying the movie.”

  “Very well.” Havik had not known his friend to be a jealous male, but perhaps he was correct to separate them. They could not afford to compromise the mission with messy emotions.

  Chapter 11

  Thalia

  Two weeks was a long time and they weren’t at their destination yet. A scheduled stop for fuel broke up the monotony of the journey. Apparently, Havik’s ship was slow and a gas guzzler.

  Thalia couldn’t complain about the extra time to catch up on the last three years. Besides binging all her favorite shows and books, the added time helped clear the fog from her head. She felt sharper, more alert. If she enjoyed the time, she spent teaching board games to Havik and watching movies with him all snuggled up on the sofa in the lounge, that was just a pleasant side effect. And by snuggled, she meant she curled up in a pile of pillows with Stabs on her lap and Havik sat as far away as possible, his back rigid and never relaxing.

  Good times.

  As fun as that was, she welcomed the change of scenery and a chance to shop for necessities. Havik and Ren’s diet seemed to consist of packages of instant noodles—three flavors, such variety! — and chewy meat granola bars. Thalia never wanted a salad so bad in her life. Plus, she only had two outfits and needed to add to her wardrobe. Anticipating their arrival, she placed an order hours before docking.

  “Is there a reason a drone is waiting for my signature?” Ren asked as the ramp lowered from the cargo hold.

  Cooler air immediately flooded in. Ren shivered. Havik zipped up his jacket. Thalia sighed in relief.

  “I ordered some items and charged them to the ship’s account,” she said.

  “My account,” Ren replied.

  “For the ship.” She would have paid for them herself if she had the money, but she kept her laughable financial status to herself. What remained of the allowance that the Mahdfel gave her would be enough for some new clothes. Or new-to-her clothes. Hopefully, the station had a secondhand shop.

  Ren opened the package and held up a bottle of foaming soap. “We have soap.”

  “The soap you have is caustic and makes me itchy.” She scratched her arm to drive home the point.

  Ren opened his mouth but Havik interrupted with, “Terran skin is different from ours. We should have anticipated the female’s needs.”

  Ren huffed as he pawed through the box. If he had a problem with the groceries she ordered, he kept it to himself. “You are correct. I will unpack these. I like this flavor. Very fishy.” He held up a tube of what she had thought was regular sausage.

  “Yay. Fishy,” she muttered, not a fan of fish. At least someone would eat the fish sausage.

  Thalia exaggeratedly cocked her hip and scanned the dock. Not that she was an experienced intergalactic traveler, but the difference between this station and the previous one at Sangrin was huge. The Sangrin station had been huge and bustling. People moved with purpose. The public announcement system crackled with constant noise and updates. Money and goods flowed through the station.

  Here, not so much. Only two other ships shared the docking bay. Silence filled the space, and the dingy interior spoke to neglect and lack of funds for basic maintenance. The station had seen better days. This was the kind of place you stopped at only because you had to, and no one stayed for long.

  Her kind of place.

  At the bottom of the ramp, Havik gripped her arm, snagging her attention. “Do not try your tricks here. I am watching you. Do not embarrass me,” he warned.

  Embarrass him?

  Instantly, she blushed, like she had been caught in the wrong, but that did not last long. She didn’t appreciate the reappearance of her stern and grumpy alien, talking down to her like a child. On the ship, she almost thought he liked her and cared, just a little bit.

  The way he watched her with contempt made her skin crawl.

  It hurt.

  Thalia jerked out of his grip. “You wanna put a collar on me and make sure I behave myself?” she snarked. A minute ago, she would have teased him, but she didn’t want to embarrass the giant red asshole by being a common little thief.

  “I will escort you. That will be enough.”

  “Fine.” She zipped up her hoodie, chafing at the idea of being babysat by Danger B. It was like he expected her to plan some heist and she wanted to do just that out of spite. “I’m out of my element here, so you tagging along is helpful,” she admitted, because she was a grown-ass woman who could admit to needing help. “Is there a map or a list of shops?”

  “What do you require?”

  Thalia rattled off her shopping list, particularly enjoying the way Havik’s cheeks darkened when she mentioned underwear. “A girl needs more than three pairs of panties.”

  “I understand,” he said.

  “And not just for variety, but variety is nice. The elastic wears out.”

  “Say no more,” he said weakly, following her as she navigated through the station to a store that seemed promising.

  “And color. I like color. Beige is so boring, but it does go with everything. I like pink. But no thongs. Some people think they’re sexy, but I don’t like my ass hanging out. I do like boy-cut shorts, though. I think they frame my assets, so to speak, perfectly. What do you think?”

  “Please. Stop.”

  Teasing Havik should have been fun, but he had spoiled the mood and she found herself resentful. She did her best to school her expression and keep up the appearance of cold indifference, because screw him for making her feel like scum and expecting the worst of her.

  And the only pockets she’d picked were his.

  The big lunk never noticed her steadily emptying his pockets. Every item made her feel smugger and cockier. Sure, this wasn’t the healthy means of problem resolution, but a satisfied grin spread on her face when he frowned and patted a pocket.

  After sending her purchases back to the ship via drone, she was ready for a meal, preferably not instant noodles.

  “Feed me, Danger B. I’m getting hangry,” she announced.

  “That is not a word.”

  “You’re gonna see how it’s not a word if you don’t get some food in me soon.”

  “I have no preference. Pick a place,” he said.

  Havik

  Thalia selected a food stall that offered various meat on sticks.

  “My treat,” she said, placing an order for enough food to feed three of her.

  “Unacceptable.” He reached for the stick of anonymous credit—no sense tipping off any smugglers by using a Mahdfel account—but found his pocket empty. “Thalia. You said you would behave.”

  “Oh my. How embarrassing.” She slapped down the missing credit stick onto the counter. “Maybe stop treating me like a criminal and I’ll behave.”

  “Your logic makes no sense. Past actions determine your privileges, not anticipation and hopeful thinking.”

  Oasis-blue eyes blinked at him. “Some days it’s really easy to understand why you’re divorced.”

  She took the container from the vendor and sat at a nearby table. Havik eyed the tiny chair suspiciously, concerne
d that it would not take his weight. Carefully, he lowered himself onto it. The chair groaned but held.

  Barely looking at him, she opened the parcel to reveal a variety of meat on wooden skewers, as well as fried balls of sugar-coated dough, similarly skewered. She ate mechanically, her posture stiff and combative.

  “Eat with more caution. You do not know what you consume,” he said.

  “It’s grilled meat. I don’t care,” she replied, her mouth full.

  “The protein could be incompatible with Terran digestion, or you could be allergic to the seasoning.”

  She raised the middle finger of her left hand.

  He mentally reviewed their interactions since leaving the ship. Her normal, if inappropriate, mirth had vanished. “You are upset with me,” he concluded.

  “How remarkably observant.” She took a too-large bite and chewed.

  “You will explain this mood to me.”

  She finished her skewer and tossed it into a discard pile. “Fine. You wanna know what crawled up my butt?”

  “The condition of my ship is less than ideal but I eradicated the vermin infestation. Nothing crawled up anyone’s posterior.”

  Her eyes flashed with mirth before her sour mood returned. “Here’s the thing: on the ship, when we were alone, you’re almost fun. The moment we’re in public, you turn all condescending.”

  “I do not—”

  “For the love of—” She tossed another empty skewer into the discard pile a bit more aggressively than needed. “Let me finish before you start explaining to me how I’m wrong about my own damn feelings.” She took a breath. “I’m not perfect, I didn’t pretend to be, and I have stolen in the past. I did what I had to do to survive. As a kid, my choices were to be a thief or be starving, okay? I haven’t stolen anything in years.”

  “Other than today and the day we met.”

  She exhaled sharply, disturbing the fringe of hair on her brow. “Yeah, well, that guy had it coming, and I didn’t spend any of that money.”

  “Following that logic, I had it coming.”

  “Yes!” She looked away, watching the crowd. When she returned her attention to him, she had regained some control over her voice. “I’m your partner on this mission and I’d really like it if you didn’t talk down to me. Asking for your respect would be a waste of time, so just don’t treat me like something you scraped off the bottom of your shoe, okay?” She took another too-large mouthful and chewed. “You’re too worried about what other people think, like they’ll think less of you if they catch you being nice to a pickpocket.”

  “Perception is important.”

  “You want approval so bad that you’re a dick to members of your team.”

  “This mission is important,” he said. So much depended on the successful capture of the smugglers. He needed a win to piece together the broken fragments of his honor and to earn a place in a clan for both himself and Ren. “You jeopardize the mission with your antics.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry you’re so situationally unaware that I took your money from your pocket and then gave it back to you.” She rolled her eyes in a very Terran gesture of insubordination.

  “Do not insult me with insincere apologies. Your attitude is mutinous, and if I had the authority to kick you off this mission, I would.”

  Her eyes went wide, and her mouth worked open and closed, yet made no sound. “I don’t talk smack about you, even though this mission is doomed to fail.”

  Havik studied Thalia’s bland, beige face, cautious of her manipulations. Her words stirred up his feelings of shame and preyed upon his sense of dishonor. He could not trust her, not even after the relatively pleasant two weeks they spent on the ship. The day’s antics proved that.

  “Explain,” he said.

  “Well, tone of voice is one thing. It’s very high and mighty, like you’re better than everyone.”

  “No, about the mission. How will it fail?”

  Thalia

  Thalia looked around the food court, deciding that the crowd was the wrong sort to prove her point. “Busting the smuggler ring is important to you, yeah, and you’ve been chasing leads?”

  “Correct.”

  “Tell me how you’ve been doing that.”

  He shifted, the chair groaning underneath him. “I go to where the smugglers were known to have docked, then find a suitable establishment and listen to gossip.”

  “Uh-huh.” If he couldn’t see the problem, she would have to show him. “Take me to a suitable establishment.”

  “That would be a waste of time as this is not our destination.”

  “Humor me. Pick a place and let’s have a drink. Just one drink.”

  He held her gaze, as if trying to figure out what her game was. Eventually, he nodded.

  They walked through the station, the crowd parting as he approached, giving them plenty of space.

  “I wanted to ask why you bind your tail,” she said.

  “I do not like for it to be touched.”

  Fair enough.

  Havik chose an appropriately seedy bar. His instincts were spot-on there. They ordered drinks at the bar and found a table.

  Taking a sip of the bitter ale, Thalia said, “Now you listen?”

  He nodded and she waited three excruciatingly long minutes before she corrected all his mistakes.

  “I can’t take this anymore.” She leaned forward, keeping her voice low. “If this is your idea of subtle, you suck at being a spy.”

  His shoulders squared.

  “You walk in here and you’re so obviously Mahdfel that no one is sitting near us. Maybe Ren can get away with that. He’s almost regular person-sized, but there’s no way you’re anything but Mahdfel.”

  “I am without a clan. I am not a threat.”

  “A guy like you is always a threat. Okay, look around the room. What do you see?”

  He twisted in his seat.

  “Be subtle,” she hissed. Havik was so bad at being a spy, like super bad.

  “Nothing of interest. People drinking. A game of cards,” he reported.

  “Rule one, everyone has secrets. Some are obvious and others you have to know what to look for.” She leaned back in her chair, glass of beer in hand, and scanned the room. As Havik had said, there was a card game, people drinking, and not much else going on. “Rule two, the kind of deals we’re interested in don’t happen in the front of the shop. They happen in back rooms and you got to know the right people to get into the back rooms. Which means we need leverage. Everyone’s got secrets, right? Say something to look like we’re having a conversation and you’re not being weird.”

  “Me?”

  “No, the invisible guy at the table. Yes, you. Try to act like you’re enjoying a beer and maybe flirt a little. Flex your muscles,” she said.

  He flexed a bicep and all thoughts emptied from her head.

  Oh, wow. Thalia didn’t realize she was all about arms until that moment. Somehow her hand touched his arm. She didn’t put it there.

  “I do not know why I entertain these notions of yours,” he grumbled.

  She felt her anger toward him soften. He was so earnest but so bad at cunning and deceit that his blunders were endearing. Too bad he was such a dick about it. “Look, I know this mission is important to you. It’s important to me that we nail the assholes who stole me. I’m not going to sabotage this, but you’re way too stiff. You look like a cop.”

  “I am not a cop,” he said.

  “I know, I know, but you’ve got a stick of righteous smite stuck right up your ass and every ne’er-do-well in the place knows it.”

  He sat up straighter, if that was even possible. “Your words are alarming.”

  “Try blending into the shadows. Be less obvious.” She emptied her glass. “Back to my point, the guy in the white shirt with the puffy sleeves is cheating.”

  Havik turned in his chair and stared directly at the table with the card game in progress. “How can you tell?”

  �
��We’ll work on subtlety,” she muttered, only a little pleased that he believed her statement. “He’s got a card up his sleeve. You can see the edges of the card pull at the fabric. He’s either too cocky for his own good or an idiot. Either way, we got our leverage.”

  He ran a hand down his braid and tossed it over his shoulder. “Again. What else do you detect?”

  “It’s not a party trick.” She saw plenty but none of it seemed the right leverage for what they needed. “That guy in the corner with the woman? His back is to the room so you can’t see his face yet he’s always checking over his shoulder. He’s nervous.”

  Havik grunted, which Thalia took to mean he agreed.

  “My guess is he’s sneaking out on his wife with a new lady, but this is his first time as a cheater, so he’s not overly confident.”

  Havik stared daggers at the man and muttered words like dishonorable and wretched and vile. Thalia worried that she made a mistake pointing out the adulterer. He stood suddenly, jostling the glasses on the table, and knocking the chair to the ground.

  “Hey. Hey,” she said, jumping to her feet. She grabbed the front of his jacket to snag his attention. That didn’t work, so she grabbed his braid, wrapping it around her wrist and pulling. When his eyes, so dark and sparkling with anger, settled on her, she sighed with relief. “Don’t worry about that guy. He’s a dick, but he’s not our problem.”

  “His mate—”

  “That guy sucks, and it’s hot the way you’re ready to defend marital fidelity, but it’d hurt the mission if you got into a bar fight.”

  Something behind her caught his attention. He returned his gaze to her, eyes full of heat.

  “Kiss me,” he commanded.

  “Wha—”

  Wrapping those deliciously thick arms around her, he lifted her and crushed her against the unyielding planes of his chest, his lips claiming hers.

  Chapter 12

  Havik

  Her soft lips pressed against him, momentarily still before opening with a gasp, then responding with eagerness. She melted against him with her arms hooked behind his neck.