Page 39 of Veiled Vixen

I scoff. “Whatever. Can you just tell Luck I’m awake and I want to see him?”

“He knows. He’s sending Nyleena. I already told you that.”

“Why are you so hostile to me? Huh?”

“I’m… uncertain, Valor. Unsure of where you stand at the moment.”

“I stand with you,” I huff. “You and Luck. And me. It’s me, Lady. Nothing has changed.”

More silence. Probably an eye roll this time. Because everything has changed. Even I know that much.

“Well.” She sighs. “I’ll let you two sort that out.”

“Great. Wonderful. Let’s do that now.”

“If and when you meet with Luck is Nyleena’s call now. She’s in charge of his schedule.”

I fume at this remark. The idea that this wild, feral fucking silver-haired princess is the new go-between for me and Luck? Well, it’s fucking ridiculous.

“Just relax for now. She’ll be here soon. Would you like me to make you something to eat?”

I’m about to rage over that remark. Because it’s a placating offer. Something to shut me up and make me forget what’s happening. Take my mind off the fact that Luck is refusing to see me. That everything has changed. And I’m not talking about Harem Station now, either. I’m talking about Luck and me. Our relationship. And the fact that it was me, not him—not even Nyleena—who forced that change.

But I am starving. Like fucking starving. I have no idea when I ate last. Weeks ago. Probably before Tray and I left Angel Station to find Brigit. The only thing keeping me alive since then was nutrient packs being fed to me intravenously during my various medical/cryopod adventures.

So I say, “Yeah. OK. I could eat.”

Lady doesn’t say anything after that. So I pull myself together and climb to the dining area on the main level and slink down into the familiar booth where I’ve taken the majority of my meals for most of my adult life. And even though it feels good, and familiar, and right… it also evokes a sense of sadness in me. Because things are so different now. And Lady Luck isn’t really my ship anymore.

I get this sinking feeling of foreboding in my stomach when the table-side autocook built into the bulkhead announces the arrival of my food.

And that sinking feeling becomes a sick one when I realize that Lady has chosen all my favorite foods.

It almost feels like a last meal.

But I dig in anyway, far too hungry to be able to resist. And I’m just about to take a bite of the spicy Centurian protein wrap when the airlock chimes and blinks green and the door slides open.

It’s only then that I realize… I was locked in here. Like a fucking prisoner.

Nyleena walks in, looking sexy as all hell in her black tactical bodysuit and knee-high silver boots. She has no fewer than four weapons strapped to her body—pistols hanging off each thigh, plasma rifle strapped to her back, and what looks to be a SEAR knife (since when are those legal here?) in a pocket of her right boot.

I sigh and put the protein wrap back on my plate, then stand up to greet her when I notice… “Shit,” I say, staring at her belly.

She forces a smile. “I guess you’re going to be an uncle.”

“Fuck,” I say.

“You knew though, right?”

“I mean… sorta. Kinda figured it out about the flowers. But this?” I point to the very apparent baby bump protruding from her middle. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Yeah, well.” She waves a hand in the air, a gesture that reminds me a lot of Veila right about now. “Shit happens, right? And never goes to plan.”

“You can say that again.”

She juts her chin towards my plate. “Don’t let me stop you. I’m just here as a courtesy.”

“Courtesy for what?”