Savage Desire (The Infinite City Book 4)

by Tiffany Roberts

  The world in which he existed wasn’t a place for someone like her.

  Oh, but it is the place for Samantha, Shay, and Leah?

  You know that’s not the same thing. Shay is as tough as any of us, and she has Drakkal to look out for her and Leah. Sam has Arcanthus, and he isn’t…broken.

  Not like me.

  Thargen clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden, piercing pain at his right temple. As potent as this void venom was, apparently it wasn’t enough to dull the headaches he was sometimes prone to.

  It’s because I’m overthinking. Gonna take a few more drinks than this to muck up my brain enough to prevent that.

  Why was he causing himself all this trouble over a terran he could never have? There was no sense in it. Arc and Drak had terran mates now, and they were both happy, and Thargen could be happy for them. That didn’t mean he needed to run off and find a terran of his own.

  But he hadn’t run off to find a terran. Meeting Yuri had been a matter of chance, and she was friendly and beautiful, and her smile made his chest warm, and his cock—

  Fuck, I need another drink.

  He opened his eyes and nearly jerked back from the bar. Yuri was directly in front of him, elbow leaning on the countertop and chin propped on her hand, staring at him with those damnable alluring green eyes.

  Her lips curled into a smile. “Is this where I act like the clichéd bartender from every movie and ask what’s troubling you?”

  Thargen arched a brow and willed his heart to slow. “Why would a bartender ask anything other than ready for another one?”

  Yuri chuckled. “Sorry. Too many movies.” She tilted her head, eyes moving as though she were searching his face. “Though you do look like something’s bothering you.”

  He released a heavy breath through his nostrils. It was stupid to think she actually cared, yet he couldn’t help believing it all the same—and he definitely couldn’t talk to her about what was bothering him right now.

  But she was a terran; maybe she could help him with something else.

  “I got a hypothetical situation for you.” He folded his forearms atop the bar and leaned toward her. “Maybe you can help me figure it out.”

  Yuri mimicked him, folding her arms on the counter and bending closer until their faces were only a handspan apart. “Ask away.”

  Her scent drifted to him, momentarily overwhelming him. It was soft and sweet, feminine and exotic, unlike anything he’d ever smelled—a scent from another world, from another universe. “Uh. Well. Say I was friends with this terran, and she had a baby. And that baby had a birthday party. First birthday—not that it makes sense, because she was born a year ago, so you’d think that would be her first birthday. Anyway, I needed to get a gift. Would a high-quality tristeel combat knife be an appropriate purchase?”

  One of her brows quirked. “Uh, that’s quite the specific hypothetical question.”

  “Yeah, I just want to be thorough.”

  “Well, for a baby, any kind of weapon is definitely not an appropriate gift. I would say you’re better off getting something…softer?”

  “Like…an energy blade?”

  “Something more…cuddly, you know? Something you can hold and squeeze? Not something the baby could stab themselves with.”

  Thargen frowned. “I had my first knife before I could walk.”

  She eyed him skeptically. “That why you have those scars?”

  He laughed and brushed a hand over the side of his head. “Yeah, maybe. Got time for a follow up question?”

  Yuri glanced down the crowded bar. One of the other bartenders, a tall female borian wearing strips of neon clothing, paused and looked her way. Yuri flicking her finger, gesturing to herself and Thargen. The borian nodded.

  “Yeah,” Yuri said, looking back at Thargen with a smile. “You’re my top paying customer right now, so you’re my priority.”

  “Ha! I knew you didn’t like me just because of my good looks.”

  Yuri laughed with a shrug. “What can I say? A girl has to eat. But I’d say your good looks are a bonus.”

  There was a strange fluttering in Thargen’s stomach, and his smile softened. He didn’t know why it felt so good to talk to this female, but he wasn’t about to stop. “All right, so… Say that same baby had that party, and I maybe were to suggest drinking during that party, and when I was told it was not appropriate, I left. Would that make me an asshole?”

  “Well, it would wholly depend upon the mood of the party before you left.”

  “I mean…I stayed for presents and cake.”

  “It’s usually okay to leave after the presents are opened and the cake is served.” She groaned and rolled her eyes up. “I would honestly kill for cake right now. I haven’t had any since I left Earth a couple years ago.”

  Thargen chuckled and smacked his lips. “It was damned good cake, too. Probably should’ve stayed for one more piece.”

  She reached out and lightly slapped his arm. “Tease.”

  His Rage perked, but in a way he’d never experienced—it fed directly into his lust, pumped blood straight to his groin, and nearly made him groan again.

  He wouldn’t have been averse to another slap—and maybe some hair-pulling or scratching to go along with it.

  “If there’s any leftover when I get back, I’ll put some aside for you,” he said. “Can bring you a slice tomorrow.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “Not lying, terran.”

  She perked. “Really? You’d seriously bring me some cake?”

  “Yeah. I should warn you, though, if you knew some of the people I work with, your hopes of any leftovers would be slim.”

  She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “Now why’d you go and get my hopes up?”

  “Guess I just like seeing you smile.”

  Though her pout was adorable, too.

  Yuri smiled again, and something in her eyes softened.

  A tall, lean, four-armed dacrethian squeezed in beside Thargen. “Give me a glass of Turian wine.”

  Thargen turned his head to glance at the newcomer. “Get in line, buddy.”

  The dacrethian scowled.

  Yuri straightened, her eyes on the dacrethian. “I’ll be with you in a second.” She returned her attention to Thargen. “You ready for another refill?”

  Thargen glanced down at the glass and sighed. A couple more shots of void venom and he’d be too far gone to know what he was saying, and he wasn’t likely to remember much of this by tomorrow if he hit that point. He wanted to remember her—every second, every detail. “I’m good for now. Gotta let my insides recover before I have any more. Go ahead and help this impatient asshole.”

  The dacrethian growled.

  “Okay! Turian wine coming up!” Yuri said, giving Thargen a scolding look with her eyes, though a smirk lingered on her lips. “I’ll check back on you in a few.”

  “I’ll be here.” He watched as she poured the dacrethian’s drink, entranced by her confidence, efficiency, and subtle grace. It was a deceptively simple thing, serving drinks, but those simple things often revealed so much about a person.

  She was a little flashy, but she was precise and didn’t seem to waste any motion. And she was quick. Within ten or fifteen seconds, the dacrethian had his drink, and his scowl faded as he walked away with it. Yuri moved on to her next customers without missing a beat.

  A soft vibration on his left wrist called Thargen’s attention to his holocom. He lifted his arm and opened the little screen to find a message from Urgand.

  Everything good?

  Had Thargen known what was about to happen, he would’ve cackled at his own reply—Doing fine. Haven’t even been in one fight.

  Urgand’s response came immediately. Keep it that way and get back soon. You have first shift tomorrow.

  The space left by the dacrethian was quickly filled—and forced wider—by a group of three males. The volturian was seve
ral centimeters shorter than Thargen, gray skinned with red qal marks on his face. He was accompanied by a sharp featured kaital with bluish skin and large ears, and a four-armed onigox who stood at least a head taller than Thargen and had vibrant red skin. They were all well dressed, but Thargen couldn’t help noting the identical neon orange accents on their clothing. Even in a place filled with people wearing bright, glowing patterns and adornments, something about these seemed too uniform to suggest the volturian, onigox, and kaital were just some friends out for a few drinks and some dancing.

  The onigox slammed one of his meaty fists atop the bar, rattling glasses and mugs. “Terran!”

  Yuri glanced at the onigox, nodded, and lifted one finger before returning her attention to her current customer and finished serving their drink.

  “Allow her a few moments, Mortannis. Terrans are too primitive to handle more than one task at a time,” said the volturian in a smooth, cultured voice.

  “I’m thirsty, Firios. Now, terran!” Mortannis banged his fist again. Several glasses toppled over, and a couple of them rolled onto the floor to shatter.

  Some of the people closest to the onigox quickly cleared the space.

  Yuri’s brows furrowed as she approached Mortannis. Once she was in front of him, she leaned forward slightly, tilted her head back, and raised her voice so it could be heard over the music. “I’m going to have to ask you to stop doing that.”

  “Perhaps if your service were faster,” Firios said, “my friend wouldn’t have to resort to such methods.”

  Thargen gritted his teeth. Not only did this volturian talk just like his kind did in the overly dramatic shows Razi always watched back at the compound, but he was being passive aggressive with Yuri. What a fucking coward.

  Aggression should never be passive.

  “Your friend needs to learn a little patience and simply wait for his turn.” Yuri looked from Firios to Mortannis with one eyebrow quirked. “Now that you have my attention, what do you want?”

  Mortannis braced two of his hands on the bar and leaned down, placing his face closer to Yuri’s. “Well, I’ve never had a terran before.”

  Yuri stared at him unflinchingly. “I’m sorry, terran isn’t on the menu.”

  “She does not know who we are,” the kaital said, thin lips twisting into a smirk.

  “Well, Garegon, I suppose we must be the ones to teach her, mustn’t we?” Firios asked.

  “Look, if you’re not going to order a drink, I have other customers waiting,” Yuri said, turning to walk away.

  Mortannis reached over the bar and caught Yuri’s upper arm in one of his big hands, halting her in her tracks. “Ji’tas, you haven’t served—”

  Rage poured into Thargen’s blood, hot as magma flowing through the veins of a planet. His hand trembled around his shot glass.

  Yuri swung around and slapped the onigox across his face, producing a smack loud enough to resonate over the thumping music. Her eyes widened, as though her own reaction surprised her. She tugged her arm. “Let me go.”

  Mortannis’s lips curled into a scowl. He raised a hand, balling it into a fist, and yanked her closer. “You’re going to pay for that, you little—”

  Thargen lunged at Mortannis, slamming the shot glass into the side of the big red bastard’s face. The glass shattered; Thargen distantly felt the pain of it slicing his palm, but he only pressed harder, grinding the shards into the onigox’s cheek.

  There was a scream from somewhere—Thargen didn’t know if it was from Yuri or not—and Mortannis staggered aside, releasing the terran.

  Chaos unfurled over the next few moments. Mortannis kept on his feet, but Thargen pressed his advantage, slamming his knee into the onigox’s midsection repeatedly. Fists hammered Thargen’s back; he barely registered the blows through the waves of Rage coursing through him. Thargen twisted away from Mortannis, throwing an elbow back. It caught Firios in the face, knocking him backward.

  More people cried out around him. Each cry sounded farther away than the last, sounded less important. Thargen knew in the back of his mind that the security guards would come soon. He had perhaps ten or fifteen seconds at best. He planned to make them count.

  Releasing a guttural laugh, Thargen returned his attention to Mortannis, hammering his fists and knee repeatedly into the alien’s body. His foe’s pained grunts were a sweet battle song, underscored by the dull thwaps of flesh striking flesh.

  Someone slammed into Thargen from the side; it must’ve been the kaital, Garegon. Thargen’s ribs hit the edge of the bar, knocking a bit of the breath from his lungs. He clamped his hands on the sides of his new attacker’s head and twisted, slamming the kaital face first into the bar top. He followed it up with a hard knee to Garegon’s sternum.

  Mortannis wrapped a powerful arm around Thargen’s neck from behind. Thargen caught it with both hands, digging his nails into the onigox’s flesh, just as Firios punched him in the face. Laughing again, Thargen raised a leg just high enough to brace his foot on the bar and kicked back with all his strength, throwing his weight against Mortannis.

  They crashed to the floor together, Thargen’s full weight landing on his foe. The onigox’s hold loosened. Thargen twisted around and straddled the larger alien, pinning Mortannis’s lower arms under his knees as he rained blows on the onigox.

  Thargen’s vision was stained redder than the onigox’s skin now, and that crimson haze deepened with each thunderous beat of his racing heart. He bared his teeth and kept swinging. Something hit him in the back of the head, knocking him forward slightly. He shook off the blow and kept attacking.

  Harsh shouts sounded immediately around him. He slammed his fist into Mortannis’s jaw one more time and pushed himself up, meaning to turn toward his new foes, ready for more, eager for more.

  Strong arms looped beneath Thargen’s—not quite big enough to belong to the onigox—and a pair of hands locked behind his neck, restraining him. His new assailant heaved back, dragging Thargen away from Mortannis.

  Thargen growled. Rage flooded his muscles with a fresh surge of strength, more than enough to break that hold on him.

  “Wait! Stop!” A soft hand settled on Thargen’s forearm before he could break free.

  That voice, that touch, broke through his battle haze. He shook his head, clearing away some of the fog, to find Yuri standing in front of him. Her face looked paler than before, but it could’ve just been because the lighting was different behind the bar.

  She stepped closer and placed her other hand on his chest, meeting his gaze. “It’s over now.”

  A portion of Thargen’s Rage burned away in that instant, drifting off like ash on the wind. The feel of her palm against his skin, over his pounding heart, was unlike anything he’d ever experienced; he wanted to feel that touch everywhere.

  “Get back, Yuri,” the male restraining Thargen said. “He’s dangerous.”

  Yuri shook her head and looked up. “He’s the one that stopped them from attacking me. Let him go, Ruunok.”

  “Did you see what he just did to these guys, Yuri?” Ruunok asked.

  Yuri’s gaze held Thargen’s. “Thargen won’t hurt me.”

  All Thargen could do was stare into those eyes. Those deep, beautiful, green eyes, so full of kindness and compassion. Had he ever seen their like? Some of the tension in his muscles eased.

  Ruunok grunted; if anything, he’d only strengthened his hold on Thargen. “You sure?”

  Thargen drew in a deep breath. The situation was suddenly clear to him now—the male holding him was one of the security guards. There were guards in his peripheral vision, dragging Mortannis, Firios, and Garegon to their feet.

  “I’m good,” Thargen said, his voice as rough as loose gravel. “I’m done.”

  “Let him go, Ruunok, so I can take him in back and get him cleaned up,” Yuri said, lowering her hands and stepping back.

  The flesh that she’d been touching felt immediately cold. Ridiculous as it was, Thargen fe
lt like a part of him had just been wrenched away.

  “All right, Yuri.” Ruunok reluctantly released Thargen. “But you know the boss will have your ass if this vorgal steps out of line again.”

  Thargen rolled his shoulders, willing away his remaining tension. Heat lingered in his muscles, his skin was tingling, and his body itched for motion, for action, but he could feel the pain on his palm now. It was dull, throbbing, and warm. He knew it would sharpen as his Rage continued to fade.

  He turned and stepped back so he could see both Yuri and Ruunok. “I’ll, uh…I’ll pay for the glass.”

  Ruunok—a burly, black-furred azhera—grunted. “You’re lucky you were helping her”—he pointed at Yuri—“or we’d be tossing you out on your ass right now.”

  Thargen’s Rage flared a little in response—at the challenge inherent in Ruunok’s threat. Taking on the entire security staff of a nightclub…that’d be a good fight. He shook off that foolish urge. Pissing off security would get him banned from this place, and while it wouldn’t have been the first bar he’d been banished from, he didn’t want to add this one to the list.

  He wanted to be able to see Yuri again.

  “Ruunok, can you let Lyrani know I’m taking a break?” Yuri asked.

  “Sure, Yuri,” Ruunok said. “You’re okay, right? That big bastard didn’t hurt you?”

  “I’m good.” Yuri smiled up at Thargen. “This vorgal got him before he could hurt me.” She took hold of his wrist, her fingers not even wrapping halfway around it, and tugged him toward her. “Come on, big guy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Thargen didn’t resist; he had the sense that he’d happily allow her to lead him anywhere.

  Three

  Keeping a gentle but solid grip on Thargen’s wrist, Yuri led the big vorgal through the crowd of onlookers toward the concealed door at the back of the club. His muscle was hard, his skin almost feverishly hot; she focused on the feel of him and kept herself moving forward. Even if she told herself that she was only holding onto him to lead him where they needed to go, the contact was a lifeline to her. Her outer calm was little more than a mask; inside, she was trembling like a leaf in the wind that was on the verge of being torn away from its branch. Thargen was the only thing keeping her grounded.