I thought he was asleep, his breathing slow and even beneath the dark gray stretch of fabric that covered his wide shoulders. I should have known better. His empathic gift had probably warned him of my approach. His voice was pleasantly deep when he spoke, without raising his head from his arms or turning to look my way. “What do you want, human?”
As if his strange hairdo hadn’t already marked him as different, the somewhat rude greeting definitely did. It was such a pleasant surprise that a smile broke out across my face and relief danced in my gut. Yes! He was rude, that meant he wasn’t going to fawn, smile, or bend over backwards to please me. This was the guy; I knew it. I wanted to hire him, even if his price was steeper than I’d like. The thought of getting stoic silence and casual indifference was simply too good to pass up. This guy wouldn’t pry, there was no way.
“Are you any good with tools? Avertom seems to think you’re the man, eh, male, I should hire to repair my pressing machine. Are you?” I rushed the words out, no longer dreading it but eager to hear his answer. I was almosthappywhen he gruffly said no. No! Call me crazy, but I actually looked forward to the chance to convince him otherwise.
“I said no. Go away, human,” he said when I asked him again. He still hadn’t lifted his head to look at me, and it was the giddy happiness at finding someone rude on an Aderian world that made me bold. I nudged his huge boot with my foot and leaned in across the table on my fist. His scent struck me, rich, warm,with a hint of spice and a good whiff of something that reminded me of motor oil. Damn, he smelled good.
I nudged his boot again with my toe, and finally, he lifted his head from his arms and rose. Well, not rose exactly, but he went from slumped over to straight-backed, and, well… that made him tall. Freakishly tall, compared to my frumpy, stocky body. I thought the hint of gray at the top of his head and the crotchety demeanor meant this guy was old. He wasn’t. Not young either, but definitely very much in the prime of his life.
Wide shoulders, only partially obscured by a sleeveless tunic. His biceps bulged with strength, and an enticing vein curled along his forearm, leading toward a big, capable hand. He was anthracite all over, like Aderians were, and his eyes were that same freaky all-black. His odd hair, shaven at the temples and braided so tightly, made him stand out. So did the chiseled line of his jaw and the angry slant of his lush mouth. He made my breath catch in my chest as I stared like an idiot. Damn it, he was so damn pretty, like all the guys here were. Now things were going to feel awkward for a different reason. It was cowardly and stupid, but I was ready to bolt again.
My boots were already turning, my body angling toward the exit as if the devil were on my heels. His hand shot out, curling around my wrist and halting me in my tracks. “You wake me, and now you’re going to run? I don’t think so. Tell me about this job.” I swallowed roughly, my eyes dropping to the long, dark fingers that circled my wrist. Why did that look good? Why did that rough heat twist through my belly in ways I didn’t think I’d ever feel again? Ah, fuck, and how broadly was I broadcasting that? With utter mortification filling my cheeks, my eyes wentfrom the stranger with the beautiful hand on my wrist to Avertom behind the bar.
Chapter 2
Jeltom
I had a crick in my neck from the awkward way I’d slept at the table, but I wasn’t going to let the pretty little human know that. The moment I realized it wasn’t some kinswoman trying to get me to move from my seat at the Laughing Nia, my curiosity was stirred. Since arriving back in my hometown on Llykhe, people had been falling over themselves to catch up with me and sympathize with my reason for being back. The whole “I’m so sorry you got shot” thing was getting old real fast.
Avertom, the bastard, knew what he was doing when he’d sent her my way, though. He knew how much of a thing I had for the damsel in distress, how innate my desire to protect was. This little human, with her sweet curves, was exactly the distraction I needed. Was I mad that my childhood friend had known exactly what to do to get me moving? Yeah, I was. But was I going to do it anyway? Stars, yes.
Her skin was so soft and fragile beneath my fingers, and I could feel the rapid beating of her heart. It fluttered under her skin like a trapped bird. I rarely regretted not having the commonly admired gift of empathy, but I was somewhat disappointed that I couldn’t tell what she was feeling now. She’d gone from brazen and bold to frightened enough to try to run, and now I was intrigued. Had she not done that, I would have told her no again, and that would have been that, but this? Something that reeked of fear? Oh yeah, I was hooked.
It was her scent, I decided, when I discovered I was unable to release her wrist. She smelled like the Aderian grapes we grew all over these parts, and she smelled of flowers and freshly cut meadow grass. She smelled… like something I wanted to press my face against until her scent was all over me. That was new, that impulse, but I wasn’t frightened by it. That was probably the side of me that had been enticed into following a second career in science. Curiosity always did get the better of me.
“Tell me about the job,” I insisted a second time, because she’d frozen and was now staring at me with huge, golden-brown eyes from inside her pale face. My thumb feathered over her frantic pulse, and my chest expanded as I inhaled her enticing scent. Seriously good—too good—the kind of good that was dangerous. And still, I didn’t turn away.
“Oh… I thought… I thought you said no?” she tried, her head cocked and springy copper curls slid over her shoulder. She had round, tiny ears, and I wanted to reach out with a finger to stroke the tempting curve. That round ear wasn’t the only curve I wanted to touch.
“I thought you were someone from town,” I said gruffly. “But you’re not.” I didn’t explain much more, but my eyes briefly shifted from hers to where Avertom was pretending to be busy behind the bar. He had his back to us and was keeping as much distance as possible, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t privy to every single thing we were feeling. Privacy on an Aderian world was a murky thing.
“I see,” my little human said in a tone that told me she had no clue what I meant. It made me want to laugh, but I had a feelingshe’d spook and truly bolt if I did. So, I held onto her wrist to make sure she would not slip away and waited.
Her eyes flicked all over the place, as if she couldn’t bring herself to look at me. Her blunt white teeth nibbled on the lush pillow of her bottom lip, her tongue darting out to wet them. She was a temptation I shouldn’t give into, but the sight of that pink tongue made my cocks surge beneath the leather buckskin of my pants. She could nibble on other things, lick more than just lips—though I wouldn’t object to that, either. Would she taste like meadow grass and wine?
“I guess if you’re interested after all… I really do need someone to fix my pressing machine,” she said. “Can you do that? Fix the pressing machine on my farm?” With my eyes closed, I could do that. Having grown up on Llykhe, I was as familiar with the winemaking process as anyone here. More so, because I’d always taken an interest in the machines, the science that went into creating a balanced, tasty wine. I didn’t say that, though, because my instincts sharpened on something else.
I wasn’t an empath—I had no psychic gift to speak of at all—but I had always prided myself on having good instincts. Perhaps it was a very subconscious remnant of some kind of core empathy; perhaps I’d just learned to read expressions better than most Aderians to compensate for my lack. I just knew that my little human was desperate, very desperate, to get her pressing machine working again. That wasn’t so strange, a farmer depended on his machines, after all, to make a profit and live off his land. But this? This went deeper than that. I was certain of it.
“I can,” I said. “I can fix pretty much anything on a farm.” It wasn’t a lie, but also a rather unnecessary bit of bragging. Shehad only inquired about getting her pressing machine fixed, nothing else. Since she still looked perilously close to bolting, I rose from my seat. “Let’s go.” I wasn’t ready to let go of her wrist, but to hold on any longer would raise eyebrows.
She retreated a few steps the moment I let go, but to her credit, she did not bolt from the Laughing Nia. Her hands fluttered at her sides, then rushed to smooth her blouse, even though it was not wrinkled. “Go? Now?” she said, shocked. “We haven’t discussed a price yet… What if I can’t afford you?” I was so confused by the mention of a price that I found myself staring at her, lost for words. I hadn’t even considered that she’d want to pay me for my time.
Avertom made a coughing noise behind her, for the first time inserting himself into our interaction. “If I may make a suggestion? Jeltom will accept payment once you’ve sold your first batch of wine. You know, as proof that he delivered good work…” I began to nod along right away, even if it was the most ridiculous suggestion I’d ever heard. I didn’t want to get paid, I didn’t need any money, but payment after she sold her wines? That could be in a year…
Luckily, my little human didn’t realize how absurd Avertom’s suggestion was, and she seemed to be relieved. “Oh, right, yes, that could work! If you’re okay with that?” She turned her big brown eyes toward me over her shoulder, and I was briefly distracted by the easy way I could see exactly what she was looking at: me. The beginning of a smile was forming around her pink mouth, and I liked that.
“I am amenable to that suggestion,” I agreed. As I followed my human out of the saloon, I gave Avertom a warning glare thatjust made him shrug and grin. His expression grew stoic and polite the moment my human looked his way, and I justknewthat my usually gregarious friend did that for her sake.
“I’m Mariska,” she said as we stepped into the warm afternoon sun outside the Laughing Nia. I eyed the cheerfully painted sign of a Nia rolling on her back with a ball of yarn rather than looking at my human. That sign was beyond ridiculous, but Avertom seemed to think it was funny. The Laughing Nia was a stupid name for a saloon, but Mariska? That name was perfect for my copper-curled human.
“Jeltom,” I said to her, although I knew she must have already realized it was my name. After all, Avertom had called me that. We weren’t just childhood friends, but cousins, hence why our names were so similar, but I didn’t think the little human had picked up on that yet. She was striding confidently ahead of me, but there was something brittle to the way she held herself.
We were catching stares from all over town, but nobody said anything. I gave a nod here or there in greeting, but mostly I was taking note of how many eyes my little human drew. Curiosity was a common Aderian trait; after all, we produced many great scientific minds. Curiosity was the fuel of our society. It was equally obvious, even without a gift for empathy, that those curious and friendly stares bothered Mariska.
Her shoulders were practically around her ears by the time we passed the last house. Nobody had greeted us by then, sensing her “keep away” vibes, but that only made everyone more curious. Who wanted to keep someone out that badly? We were a social species, too, always eager for company. This human, she was much more like me, happy to keep everyone at a distance. Iwas just a grumpy old bastard, but she? I feared her reason for withdrawing was much darker. She was, after all, a single, pretty human in the Zeta Quadrant. Safe on an Aderian world, sure, but she might not always have been under Aderian protection.
My mind flashed to the events that had caused me to get shot and forced me to retire from my second career. Though that near-fatal blow had come from a Kertinillian mercenary, he’d been hired by an Aderian criminal mastermind—a crimelord. It was proof that, even on a world as safe as Llykhe, a human alone like Mariska couldn’t be sure she was safe.
