Kaalden continued speaking, something about the program, about hope for the future, but her attention drifted. She scanned the crowd, looking for someone who might be Goraath.
Most of the men stood in loose groups, but a few stood on their own, separate from the others. And there, near the back, arms crossed over a chest broad enough to block out the suns?—
Her breath caught.
Oh shit, he was massive. Even among the other huge Lathar he stood out, easily the tallest in the crowd. He had to be close to seven feet, with shoulders that looked like they’d been carved from the same stone as the buildings. Dark hair fell past his shoulder, down the middle of his back, with the sides shaved close to his skull. His face was all hard angles and weathered skin, jaw shadowed with stubble.
His gaze fixed on her, amber and unblinking.
Not friendly. Not welcoming. Not even curious.
Just flat, cold and resigned.
Her heart sank. That was him. She knew it the way you know when someone’s watching you, when someone’s decided something about you before you’ve even opened your mouth.
He didn’t want her here. That much was obvious from the hard look he sent her way.
“… and now,” Kaalden said, “your hosts will come forward to greet you.”
The crowd shifted and men stepped forward… some eagerly, some with careful dignity. A lean male with kind eyes approached Autumn, speaking quietly as he offered his arm. Autumn took it, her face flooding with relief. A gruff-looking male with engine grease still visible on his hands moved toward Aida.
“Daax,” he said. Just the name. Aida grinned, her expression pleased and maybe a little awed. Juni didn’t blame her, Daax was as handsome as hell.
One by one, the other women were claimed by men who at least seemed to want to be here. Men who offered then a smile and a greeting and basic courtesy.
Goraath didn’t move.
He stood there, arms still crossed, jaw tight, while every other host stepped forward and all the other woman were greeted with something approximating warmth. Then the landing platform began to empty as people dispersed, and the women and their hosts headed toward transports.
Still Goraath didn’t move.
Her face burned. Everyone could see that her assigned host wasn’t coming to collect her.
Screw it.
She picked up her single bag—everything she owned fit in one regulation duffel—and walked toward him. Her legs were wobbly, and the wind kept trying to knock her over, but she crossed the distance between them with her chin up and what she hoped looked like confidence.
He watched her but didn’t move to meet her halfway. He just stood there, those strange amber eyes tracking her approach.
She stopped in front of him and had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. Way back. He was so tall that standing this close made her neck ache.
“Hi.” Her voice was steadier than she’d expected. “I’m Juniper. Juni. You must be Goraath?”
“Yes.”
One word. Clipped. Final.
“It’s nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand.
He looked at it like she’d offered him something dead.
Heat crawled up her neck and she let it drop. “I guess we should get going?”
He turned and walked away.
Her jaw clenched, but she followed him. What choice did she have? He was her assigned host.
His transport sat apart from the rest. It looked older than the others, battered and caked in mud, with dents in the metal panels. He opened the cargo area and gestured to it.
