Joined: Book One

by Mara Gan

  I softened. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know how to process that bit of information, but it was oddly kind of… sweet. My chest fluttered again and I had to remind myself that he didn’t mean it that way. I paused, thinking how I could shift the topic to a safer zone. “How does it work? Did it lead you here?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t even think about it,” he said, turning his weapon over in his hands. “I grabbed my falx and just followed my instincts. It hadn’t even occurred to me until now that I had a feeling for where you were.”

  “That’s….” I hesitated. Kinda cool, really. “That’s good, since I obviously wasn’t in my rooms.”

  He swung his eyes to look at me directly again. “Which brings me to my next point. What the hell were you—”

  I waved my hand before he could start swearing and yelling, which we had managed to avert thus far. “I know, I know,” I said sheepishly. “I’m sorry. Really I am. And I’ve definitely learned my lesson.”

  “Have you?” His black eyes probed mine. “Have you really?”

  I nodded. I wasn’t lying, either; running into Durga in the middle of the night was truly worse than my experience with Tollak had been. Tollak had been grumpy and drunk, but that had been a treat compared to sweaty and gropy Durga. “That was not an experience I’d care to repeat.”

  “Are you all right?”

  I winced as I touched my cheek. “Yeah. He hit me a bit, but it wasn’t bad.” I grinned. “I gave him some insults that should last longer than these bruises will.”

  Perseus frowned and gripped my chin, tipping my face both ways to get a better look. He narrowed his eyes. “A little ice and it should be fine,” he said finally. “You seem to heal quickly.”

  “I didn’t know you were so skilled in first aid,” I teased.

  “When my job is guarding someone as problem-prone as you, it’s a necessary qualification.” He studied me. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “He didn’t hit me that hard.” I paused, wondering if Perseus had roughed him up on the way back to the cell. “Dare I ask what you did with him?”

  He shrugged. “He’s in a holding cell.”

  “Did you beat him up more on the way there?”

  “I’m surprised that would bother you, after the way I found him treating you when I arrived.”

  “I suppose it doesn’t really bother me,” I said, realizing as I spoke that it was the truth. “I’m just… not used to seeing violence.”

  He looked out the window. “I’m sorry you had to see it.” He stood, offering me a hand. “Come. You should get back to your room.”

  I nodded and shivered, rubbing my arms. He handed me a large black button-up shirt and I looked up in surprise. “What’s this?” I asked curiously, holding it up. It was huge.

  “Something to wear,” he answered, looking ahead. “You looked cold.”

  I nodded gratefully and hastily put the shirt on. It hung to my knees, and I had to roll the sleeves up. I left it unbuttoned.

  I sniffed the collar. “Is this yours?” I asked in surprise.

  He looked down at me. “How did you know?”

  “It smells like you.”

  He snorted. “I apologize, Princess,” he said, gesturing for me to walk. “I thought it was clean.”

  “No, no,” I said. “It smells good. Like… like that tea you drink.”

  He said nothing, looking away as we walked slowly back to the Habitat Cube.

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I keep extra clothes at the brig,” he answered evenly. “I like having quick and easy access to a change of clothes in case the ones I’m wearing get… unwearable.”

  I looked up at him, feeling shy. “Don’t… don’t you want it?”

  He shook his head. “I’m rarely cold,” he replied. “And this station is a bit warm for my tastes. I’d prefer not to wear a shirt most of the time, but I’m trying to be less… crass.” He smiled wryly. “Someone once told me I have bad behavior.”

  I fidgeted as we waited for the lift. “Your behavior is fine.”

  “Feeling charitable, Princess?”

  I shrugged. “Grateful.”

  He grunted. “Don’t feel too grateful yet,” he said, stepping into the lift after me. “I will, for one thing, be sleeping on your couch for the remainder of the night.”

  My eyes widened. “Oh- but you really don’t—”

  “Yes, I do, Meda.” His tone—and use of my name, which he rarely did—brooked no argument.

  I shut my mouth and nodded.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not arguing with me.”

  “No,” I said, smiling faintly. “It’s not worth it.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Can it be that you finally understand the need for protection?”

  I laughed outright. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I said, giving him a cheeky wink. “But I am a trained negotiator. And I can recognize when to fight a battle and when not to bother. You sleeping on my couch is hardly something to quibble about. You’re the one sleeping on a couch near Myrtilos, after all.”

  “Ah, yes, the demon cat,” Perseus said, smiling a little. He keyed in the entry code to my door and ushered me inside. I stepped in and immediately Myrtilos was circling my ankles, rubbing himself against me, yawning.

  I bent and picked him up, rubbing my chin on his head. “Come in,” I said to Perseus. “Make yourself at home.”

  He walked over to the couch and sat, setting his falx on the ground. Myrtilos leaped out of my arms and trotted over to him, sniffing the still-bloodstained falx as Perseus patted my cat’s head and stroked his fur absently.

  I gaped. “I don’t believe it.”

  He looked up, confused. “What?”

  “Myrtilos.”

  “What about him?”

  “He likes you.”

  Perseus smiled faintly. “Is it so hard to believe that some creatures think I’m not so bad?”

  I shook my head. “No, no,” I said, trying to clarify. “It’s not that. It’s just… Myrtilos doesn’t like anyone.”

  “Maybe Myrtilos and I understand each other,” Perseus said, rubbing the cat’s back. Myrtilos arched in appreciation, butting his head against Perseus’s leg. “Animals aren’t so different than we are. We all want the same things, have the same instincts. Humans have just learned to ignore those, which is more unfortunate for us than anything else.”

  That was logic I couldn’t argue with, so I headed toward the hall closet and, opening it up, revealed piles of bedding. “Do you like a lot of blankets and pillows?” I called, examining the options and thinking how odd it was that I was asking this of my Protector at all.

  “Whatever you have is fine, Princess,” he replied.

  I snagged a pillow from the bottom shelf, but the blankets were on a higher shelf. I frowned up at it, thinking Synie must have put them there when she stocked my apartment—because let’s face it, I sure didn’t do that. I stood on my tiptoes and was trying to reach the blankets when Perseus startled me by reaching over my head and plucking one off the top shelf. I hadn’t even known he was behind me.

  I turned, about to thank him, but my response died on my lips. He was so close, and so very, very warm, and his chest muscles were even with my nose….

  It was by no means the first time I had seen him shirtless, but I forgot how beautiful he was. His muscles were perfectly sculpted, his flesh tanned, buoyant, and alive. I clutched the pillow closer and pressed my lips together. Every coherent thought fled from my mind; I just wanted to kiss him everywhere, to press my lips against his smooth skin, to smell his warmth—

  “See something you like, Princess?” he asked softly, still holding the blanket.

  I dragged my eyes up to his face and swallowed hard, horrified at having been caught staring like that. His black eyes were churning, but I couldn’t sense anything. Still, I saw— something….

  He stepped away from me abruptly, moving toward the couch. I let out th
e breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I couldn’t believe I’d just been staring at him, slobbering like some half-witted little girl. I blushed furiously.

  “There are more pillows and blankets if you need them,” I said in a rush. “And help yourself to any food in the kitchen.”

  He smiled. “I’ll be fine. Get some rest.”

  I nodded and, after fidgeting a few more moments, turned to go.

  His voice stopped me. “One more thing, Princess.”

  I turned back, my stomach fluttering as the blush crept back into my cheeks. “Yes?”

  A slow smile curled about his mouth. “You’re making breakfast.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Good morning,” Perseus said, not turning around.

  He was standing at my window, gazing outside, hands folded behind his back. I’m not a heavy-footed person, but I had long since learned that sneaking up on my Protector was something I would never accomplish.

  I stifled a yawn, feeling well rested but still slightly groggy. Despite being a sporadic sleeper, I was most definitely not a morning person. “Good morning,” I said drowsily, coming to stand beside him. “What time is it?”

  “About nine or so.”

  “Wow.” I blinked. “I don’t usually sleep that late.”

  “I’ve noticed,” he replied. “Perhaps last night affected you more than you realized.”

  I rubbed my face sleepily. “Maybe. I don’t sleep much, normally. This is strange. I guess I was… stressed.”

  He glanced down at me. “Good.”

  An odd look crossed his face as he looked at me. It was getting easier for me to see through the cracks in his expressions. While I had no doubt that most people found reading his face impossible, reading emotions—empathically or simply by visual evaluation—was practically what I did for a living. I still wasn’t always sure what his expressions meant, but I was learning quickly that he had quite a few emotions bottled up under that steely visage, and just now something was going on back there.

  His arms flexed and I struggled not to admire his muscles. Before meeting Perseus, I had never seen any man with his shirt off before, and Perseus was quite possibly the most handsome man I had ever seen with or without his shirt. Every single muscle was defined and hard, and I doubted there was an ounce of fat on him. Small scars littered his skin but somehow only added to his appeal.

  I wanted to smooth my hands over his skin, to feel what those muscles would be like beneath my palms—

  I forced my eyes away, realizing we were staring at one another. He was probably staring at me just to figure out why I was staring.

  I stretched again, trying to forget the image of him that was burned into my brain, and stifled another yawn. “How did you sleep?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t.”

  Guilt washed through me. He’d slept on my couch, which was obviously too short for him, because he was worried about me. Because I had gotten into trouble, again. “I’m sorry. I wish I had something aside from a couch for guests to sleep on, but usually people stay in guest quarters.”

  “No, your couch was fine, Princess,” he assured me. “But old habits die hard.”

  “What habits?”

  “The sleep schedule of someone on the run, little girl,” he said lightly. “An hour here and there.”

  “That sounds awful,” I said quietly. “Gi hadn’t mentioned that.”

  He grunted. “That’s because Gi is lazy and sleeps a lot more than that.”

  I laughed. It was easy to picture Gi as lazy. “But isn’t that… unhealthy?” I asked, rubbing my arm. “It seems like you should need more sleep than that.”

  “Probably, but I function just fine for now.” He nodded to my attire, asking casually, “Did you sleep in my shirt, Princess?”

  I looked down and blushed furiously. I had kept it on when I crawled into bed. It smelled so good, like him, and despite my constant reassurances that Durga hadn’t upset me, it was nice to be wrapped in that kind of comfort. I had meant to take it off before he saw me, but as I said, I’m less than intelligent in the morning. “I’m-I’m so sorry,” I stuttered. “It was late, I was tired, and I didn’t realize—”

  “You do not need to apologize. You can keep it as long as you like.”

  I sniffed it, wrapping it closer around me, loving the smooth scent of him enveloping me. “Thank you,” I murmured. “I’ll wash it and return it to you soon.”

  “Whenever is fine,” he murmured. He closed his eyes and seemed to wage an inner battle, his eyelids squeezed together tightly and his jaw muscles worked.

  Confused, I was about to apologize again when he laced his fingers above his head and flexed, cracking his knuckles and stretching his back, which of course made his mouthwatering muscles dance. “I am starving, Princess. Where’s that breakfast you owe me?”

  I started. “Oh! I forgot!” I turned and hurried into the kitchen, wondering idly what I could possibly find to offer him. I hated cooking and had almost nothing on hand except popcorn, butter, and the occasional yogurt. Sometimes my pantry was full when Synie tried to load me up with nutritious offerings, but more often than not they got moldy before I remembered they were there.

  “What do you like to eat for breakfast?” I called, opening the cabinets.

  He entered the kitchen and stood behind me, peering over my head into them. “You don’t have much to choose from,” he mused, studying the contents.

  I scratched my head. “Uh… sorry. I don’t like to cook. I don’t actually come in the kitchen very much.” Well, unless Myrtilos was hungry. I kept his food in here. It was a sad fact that my kitchen probably had more cat food than human food.

  He snorted. “No wonder you’re so short. How do you expect to get bigger if you don’t eat anything?”

  “I eat plenty,” I said defiantly. “I just… buy it premade or get takeout.”

  Perseus opened my fridge. “Good god,” he said, shaking his head as he examined the contents. “This is pathetic.” He pulled out a container and opened it, immediately pulling back in revulsion. “This is practically a new species.”

  “I have been meaning to clean out my fridge,” I said ruefully.

  Perseus pulled a small device out of the fridge. “Is this a data pad?” he asked, confused.

  “I’ve been looking for that!” I exclaimed, snatching it from his hands. “That’s my book.”

  He was even more confused. “You put your books in the fridge?”

  “Well… no,” I said, fidgeting. “Not on purpose, anyway.”

  He outright laughed. “You are so absentminded that you accidentally put your book in the fridge?”

  I smiled sheepishly, loving the sound of his laugh. “I get distracted sometimes.” I wished he would put a shirt on, because between his beautiful skin and rich laugh, I was really distracted.

  “Indeed,” he said, glancing back at the fridge. “It doesn’t look like you go in here much.”

  “It has been a while,” I agreed, regarding the fridge with uncertainty. “Once, when I was little, I saw a horror movie where the demons lived in the fridge. It gave me refrigerator anxiety.”

  He laughed again, making my skin tingle, and, shutting the fridge, he said, “All right, we’ll go to my kitchen.” He gestured grandly toward the door. “I, Princess, adore eating, and subsequently am a passable chef. You will find my pantry fully stocked. I spend plenty of time in my kitchen, unlike you.”

  “I spend time in my kitchen,” I countered, following him to the door.

  “Feeding Myrtilos doesn’t count.”

  Good god, he knew me way too well.

  He led me out into the hallway to his apartment, where he keyed in the entry code and entered.

  I stepped through the doorway and giggled. “And here I thought you were becoming a gentleman.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me as he shut the door behind us and moved toward the kitchen. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Last
night, when you let me into my apartments, you let me go in first,” I clarified. “Just now, you entered first. I’m glad to see some of your habits haven’t changed. Not that I care,” I said hurriedly, seeing his eyebrow raise. “I’ve always thought that a rather antiquated custom.”

  “You misunderstand me, Princess,” he replied. “I always let whoever I am with, man or woman, enter a room before me for safety reasons—unless that person is you.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  “With everyone else, letting them go first is always wise to prevent getting ambushed or bombed. But with you it’s different. You’ll notice that I stand in the doorway sideways,” he said, opening his fridge. “Half in, half out. That way I can keep an eye on both sides of the doorway, and if it has been rigged with explosives, they would kill me and not you.”

  I paled. “I didn’t know you did that.”

  He located a package of meat. “There are a lot of things neither of us understand about each other’s job,” he said, pulling out a cooking pan. “And it’s probably better that way.”

  I stood beside him, watching him set up his cooking supplies. I had never really given much thought to what he was doing for me. I had only ever seen it as an imposition, a restriction of my freedom, never a sacrifice of his. The fact he even knew enough to consider such dangers, let alone taking such a risk for me, set my world on edge.

  I realized then what a pain in the neck I must be for him and vowed to try making his job a little easier.

  “Thank you,” I said earnestly, studying his profile.

  He smiled, not looking at me. “You are welcome.”

  He rinsed a utensil in the sink and then leaned over, taking a drink directly from the faucet.

  And just like that, we were back to his behavior. I frowned. “You could use a glass.”

  “Why dirty one unnecessarily?”

  I sighed. “You really have no manners.”

  “Manners are a waste of time.”

  I opened my mouth to retort, then shut it and decided to change the subject. Given everything he’d sacrificed for me, no matter how much we were paying him, his bad manners were completely excusable. Unfortunately for me, I was also beginning to see them as kind of charming. “So,” I said uncertainly, glancing about, “what do I do to make you breakfast?”