I clutched the arms of my seat until my knuckles ached. “No,” I whispered. “Not again. Not like this.”
Beside me, Nythor only smiled thinly, watching the stars twist as if they were his playthings.
Patiently,I waited for Sloane Pericolosa Storm to arrive at the outpost. I had purposefully chosen one that was firmly in Pandraxian hands, and where humans were slowly becoming more of a norm.
Unfortunately, patience was never my strength, not when the Dark Abyss clawed at the Verge, and Ella’s absence gnawed through me like acid. I should have been with her. Every instinct in me demanded it. Instead, I was here, biding time in this forsaken station while mortals shuffled about their errands, wishing I could feel the warmth of her hand in mine rather than the cold hum of alien steel.
When my comm finally pinged, alerting me to her arrival, I rose. Protocol said I should have waited in the conference room she’d rented. Polite. Predictable. Boring.
But I wasn’t made for polite or predictable.
So instead of waiting, I slipped into the shadows of thecorridor outside, my aura pulled so tight around me that even the station’s sensors would think me a void. The corridor was empty as I watched and waited for her to arrive.
Sloane Storm. I wasn’t sure what I expected, a jittery bureaucrat in too much armor, perhaps. But what I got was a soldier. And a well-trained one at that, as I found out the moment I stepped out of the shadows to meet her. I wasn’t going to harm her. She was here because I had summoned her, nothing more. But obviously, she didn’t see it that way. She reacted within a breath. A blur of motion, and suddenly I was flat on my back with a blaster pressed cold to my temple.
Amusing.
She’d managed to pin me, yes, but only because I let her. If I’d wanted her throat crushed, it would have been done before she drew her weapon. Instead, I lay still, watching the bryx—steel—in her eyes, the determination etched into every line of her body.
“You're Sloane Storm,” I said smoothly, keeping my voice even. I didn't think she would appreciate my bout of amusement just then. I wasn’t even remotely bothered by the blaster pressed to my head. I could still stop her anytime I wanted. "Former MARSOC, recruited by the CIA before the Cryon invasion. A ghost in the system ever since."
Her eyes narrowed, sharp and suspicious.
“You have no room talking about ghosts,” she snapped, pulling the blaster back and righting herself.
I stood fluidly, dusting myself off, letting her look her fill. And look, she did. Her pulse betrayed her even as she tried to stay defiant. Her eyes swept over me, all of my nearly seven feet of Arkhevari flesh and fury. My aura burned more golden than it had in millennia.
“I’d love to stay and let you ogle me all day,” I laced my voice deliberately with arrogance; I didn't want the poor human falling for me. “But what do you say we move this conversation to a more secluded spot?”
She holstered the weapon but kept her hand close, keeping her distance, still pretending she had the upper hand. “Lead the way.”
I studied her coolly, then turned back down the corridor, not toward the conference room she thought she’d rented, but a different door on the opposite side. The guards I’dencouragedto take a nap in the cleaning closet didn't make a sound behind the closed door. The entrance opened, and I bowed with mocking courtesy, gesturing her inside.
She passed close enough that I could feel her tension, the tiny rise of hairs along her neck. Good. She understood what I was. That was her first smart instinct.
The room was a monitoring station, and the walls were covered in screens displaying every corner of the hub. She turned to me, sharp suspicion in her eyes.
“Where are they?” She asked about the guards, but I doubted she actually gave a drek about them. She didn't strike me as a sentimental type.
“Occupied,” I grunted, jerking my chin towarda supply closet where a handful of Imperial soldiers were quietly nursing unconsciousness. “Let’s get down to business.”
I tilted my head, studying her the way I might study a blade I hadn’t yet decided was sharp enough to keep. “So, you are the emperor’s newest pet project?”
Her spine stiffened. “I’m nobody’s pet.”
A chuckle rumbled from my chest, low and mocking, designed to set her teeth on edge. “That’s cute. I bet you think you’re here on your own terms.”
“I’m here to arrange a meeting between you and the emperor,” she shot back. “A meetingyourequested.”
I sighed, drawing it out, dripping with disdain. “That would make you his errand girl. I thought you were a big bad spy.”
I've been waiting for her temper to snap and was finally rewarded as it made her nostrils flare. She clenched her jaw and stepped closer. Her eyes were flashing with anger. “I don’t care who you think I am, but I’m not playing games. Do you want to arrange a meeting or not?”
For a long moment, I let the silence stretch. Watched her stand there, bristling but refusing to back down. I liked her temper.
Finally, I exhaled. “Fine. Have it your way. Tell the emperor I will be waiting for him on Zycada, at theWings and Tits.”
Her lips parted in disbelief, and I couldn’t resist winking. “I trust you will tell your boss I am who I said I am?”
