Now, however, that determination rose fiercely.
Staring into the cabinet of whips, Valerie grabbed that slim, brown leather one first, throwing it onto the gleaming floor. Then her hands snatched at the rest, ripping them from their slots, and chucking them onto the growing mound on the floor.
When all of them were gone from the cabinet, she went upstairs to the small sitting area that clients sometimes used if they came too early. She snagged a bottle of orange brandy and an Old Earth lighter that still worked.
Back in the basement, she poured the brandy over the whips and ropes. Then she tossed the flared lighter onto the pile and watched as the flames grew, licking at the material, feeding on it.
Valerie watched from the doorway, her jaw set as she watched the flames grow and grow. Something unleashed from her, some small part of her that had always felt trapped and frightened, as she watched the ropes curling and blackening. Smoke drifted up her nostrils but she wasn’t concerned about the fire growing. It would smolder on the slick floor and die out.
But it was a message to her aunt. It told Madame Allegria that Valerie expected her to keep her word. That she would never touch the Keriv’i again. That she would pay them what she owed them. And that she would let them go.
Unhooking the chains from the ceiling, she tossed them onto the flickering pile too for good measure, though they wouldn’t burn.
Then she turned her back, pressing her lips together as she imagined her aunt’s face when she found the ruined collection that she’d built up through the years.
Next on her list that morning was going to Eve Tesler’s townhome in the Garden District. The townhome that Eve had left to Valerie before she’d departed Everton with Khiva. A townhome filled to the brim with furniture and collectable items that were worth a small fortune. Not to mention the property value itself.
Valerie hadn’t wanted to sell it based on principle…that it wasn’t hers, that it had belonged to Eve and her late father, that it had been a home of love and safety.
But now…Eve was gone and Valerie intended to use the townhome as her Plan B.
Valerie ascended the steps from the basement floor and walked into the lobby, and she froze when she saw Dravka, her footsteps momentarily faltering.
He was sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting area, next to the gold trolley cart she’d snagged the bottle of brandy off of. His arms were outstretched across the thick Old Earth-style leather armchair, his fingers drumming across the material.
Madame Allegria was off colony, after all. And when she was, the Keriv’i were free to…wander.
When he saw the basement door open, his gaze flashed up to hers, those dark opal eyes hitting her like a punch in the gut. Why did looking at him make her want to scream? Why did looking at him make her want him so much, want what could’ve been…in another life?
Acceptance and resignation mingled with her fierce determination was a strange sensation. It weighed heavily on her shoulders, but filled her with a sense of freedom and lightness andbraverythat she hadn’t felt in years.
“What are you doing up so early?” she asked, shutting the door to the basement behind her firmly, not wanting the scent of smoke to escape. The open-cage elevator also went down to the basement but she couldn’t help if the smell drifted up through the shaft.
After last night, she knew she owed him an apology. He’d only been concerned for her and she’d turned him away. But his presence had been almost too much to bear after the events of yesterday, after having all the hope for a better future ripped out from underneath her.
What she could guarantee, however, was a better future for Dravka. For Tavak and Ravu. She could ensure that no more Keriv’i were brought to the New Earth colonies.
Thatwas her purpose now.
Her question was a foolish one, but his unexpected presence had caught her off guard. The Keriv’i didn’t need as much sleep as humans did. And given that his client left before midnight, he’d had plenty of time to rest through the night.
“Is there anything you need?” she asked, clearing her throat, swallowing as he stood from the armchair. “Or do Tavak and Ravu need anything? I can send for food if—”
“Val,” Dravka voiced, cutting her sentence short.
She stopped talking and rubbed at her bare arms. Despite the seasons changing soon—thanks to the Programmers—and despite summer being just around the corner—and her inevitable wedding to Gabriel Larchmont—the brothel felt cold that morning.
Dravka stepped forward, his eyes trailing over her form. At her loose-fitting pants and thin, old, comfortable t-shirt. Suddenly, she realized that it had once belonged to Dravka, the shirt. Earlier on, during her first year at the brothel, she’d been in charge of laundry collection. Dravka’s shirt had gotten stuck in with her own laundry…and she’d simply never returned it to him. She kept it tied and knotted at her hip, or else the length would trail well to her knees.
It swamped her in size, but it was her favorite item of clothing. It only mildly embarrassed her that he saw her wearing it now.
If he recognized it, he didn’t say anything, but she watched as his nostrils flared.
A stray thought hit her then, one that brought a new wave of regret and sadness over her.
I’ll never know what it’s like to kiss him, she realized.
She ducked her head to keep him from seeing whatever it was that flashed across her features at that thought. But it felt wrong to her…that she had loved this male for close to five years—almost since the first moment she’d seen him—and she would never know what it felt like to kiss him, to cuddle with him, to embrace him the way she craved.
