Out in the hallway, where the music softens, and the light is bright white and steady, I motion to the right. “My ship is docked down this way. I’ve got some good medicine to help with Mindoran scratches.”
“Those aren’tscratches,” a voice growls from behind me.
I wheel around, anticipating another Mindor, only to find three more Drathious males wearing ABR badges of security guards and bands around their wings. They stand in marred black armor. At the front is a soldier with wicked tattooed chevron patterns in fresh ink over his cheekbones and one marking between his brows.
My chosen guides me against him with a wince and motions to them.
“Your team?” I ask.
He nods.
“Oh, shit. He can’t talk.” One of the others adds. “Rage Roar ripped out your chords, didn’t it?” He chuckles. “That was fucking awesome by the way.”
“That’s Rykarn,” the tattooed one says with a gruff, low voice. “He never shuts up. Vryskas is the shorter, fatter enabler.”
“Hey! I am all muscle,” Vryskas defends, flexing his arms like he’s ready to fight about it.
The Drath in front wrinkles his nose at Vryskas before returning his attention to me. “I am Team Leader Sidius. I…had a team. Now I am one of…”
My guy squirms, stopping Sidius.
“You have not told her your name?” Rykarn rumbles. He’s the tallest of the group with a black half-mohawk that spikes more as it reaches his forehead. His ears bear small black plugs. Vryskas is riddled with scars like he was born in a patch of briars. But Sidius has the deepest lines in his face from battles lost. I wager he’s the oldest.
The team stares at my red male like they don’t understand why he didn’t even try. He rubs his throat and looks warily down at me like I’m not going to like the answer. Then he waves for Sidius to continue.
“You don’t recognize him?” Sidius asks me.
I move aside for another couple who leave the Mingle celebration in a hot, tangled mess.
“Should I?”
Vryskas swats Sidius in the arm. “How would she know? We all have the same color of eyes. We always have to wear suits or armor around others. He probably had his mask on when she saw him before, anyway.”
Sidius braces his hands on his hips and seems to ponder the situation. “Do you like him?”
“Can we get to the point? He’s bleeding. I’d like to take care of him,” I say. “Everything else can happen later.”
Sidius’ jaw muscles clench. He hangs his head. “Joruskcan lose a lot more blood and survive.”
I look up at my protector, confused, because I saw him just days ago, and yet recognition is not a word I would use.
“Jorusk?”
He nods. “S…”
Jorusk hangs his head back as embers puff out of his throat.
“Why is he doing that?” I ask.
“The Inferno heals us. So embers are a good sign, but that also means he’s still injured.” Sidius motions toward the males’ wing. “Osiris has our medical bay ready. We can get Jorusk back in the games quickly, but he needs to come with us. You are welcome to join, Brynna.”
Of course, he knows who I am. They all probably do.
Sidius leads the way. “We have not used the Rage Roar in many decades because so many species do not like it. Jorusk is different, breaks rules, runsintodanger.”
Jorusk fumes beside me. Light flames shimmer near his wounds, and I think his body is trying to cauterize itself. He doesn’t release his arm from around my waist, but he won’t look at me anymore except for a stolen moment or two.
“Hello, ladies,” Rykarn waggles his brows at a group of passing women, who gape and whisper like they aren’t sure what to think. He shrugs and keeps walking beside us. “They just don’t know how good a dance with a devil can be.”
