His fingers softly caress the inside of my wrist before he plucks the knife from my hand and places it in the holster strapped to my leg. When he stands again, he closes my cloak around me, running his hands over my shoulders and down my arms. Then he takes the mask from my hand and slides it over my face before pulling the deep cowl over my head. “Let’s go.”
Without another word, we exit the ship. Rovos stomps down the ramp with me following closely behind him and Igid covering my back.
* * *
Itry, I really do, not to gawk as I’m led through the space station. Thank god, the mask I wear hides my face because I’m staring slack-jawed at everything I pass. It’s like I walked into a science fiction movie. One from the ‘80s, where everything is gritty and dark and dirty. Not clean, white or pristine, like the current fads show.
Metal catwalks circle the station, connected with stairs or lifts that groan with each step and look worn and rusted to the point of being dangerous, although no one else seems bothered by that. And the aliens that inhabit it? Let’s just say that none of the movies I’ve seen came close. Nearly all are bipedal, with recognizable humanoid features, but that’s where familiarity stops. These aliens come in every color. Every shape and size. And every number of appendages.
I’m so busy taking in everything around me that I don’t notice when Rovos comes to a sudden stop until I walk into him.
“Oof!” I bounce off his back and would have landed on my ass, except that Rovos reaches behind and takes hold of my arm, helping me get my balance back.
“Volethos said he’d have a private chamber ready for us,” Igid says from behind me. “Through there, in the back.”
I lean around Rovos to look at where she is pointing. We’re outside a bar, and not a classy one.
Grabbing hold of Rovos’ shirt, I wrap the material around my fist, clenching it tight. “Are yousureabout this?” I ask in a breathy whisper. Going inside that bar screamsbad ideaat me.
Rovos grunts, and then we’re walking again. The smell of greasy food and stale beer surrounds us while raucous laughter comes and goes over the strange alien music being piped through hidden speakers. I still have my hands wound around his shirt, and it doesn’t escape my notice that his tail has hooked itself around one of my legs, as if to keep me close. The moment we enter the bar, dozens of eyes are on us, leaving a squalid feeling behind, and I’m incredibly thankful for the disguise Rovos and Igid made me wear.
It takes an eternity to reach the back of the bar, where we stop in front of an empty wall. Rovos swipes his wrist across a box, and a hidden door slides open. The room on the other side is no larger than my bedroom back on Earth, and it’s empty, except for a man standing with his back to us. It doesn’t take me long to realize he’s… a Vesen like Rovos. Unlike Rovos, this man—alien—is a tawny color with no stripes, and he’s missing his tail, or most of it.
“Volethos,” Rovos speaks up as soon as the door closes behind us. “Thank you for meeting us.”
Volethos turns to face us with a wide smile plastered across a face that looks nothing like Rovos. In fact, he looks shifty as hell, with eyes that are dull and yellow, not gold, with mud-brown hair that hangs in unkempt waves past his shoulders. He’s dressed in little more than rags. His shirt looks like it hasn’t been washed in weeks, and instead of the crisp white I imagine it once was, it’s dingy and gray. His pants aren’t much better. the hems frayed and faded to patchy gray.
“Ro! It’s good to see you.” Volethos spreads his arms wide, like he is going to give Rovos a hug. At the last moment, he thinks better of it and instead leans to the side. “Is this her?” he asks, trying to get a look at me.
It takes everything in me not to plaster myself against Rovos’ back, hiding like a child. Instead, I force myself to step out into the open.
“When Igid told me you’d found a pure human, I thought she was jerking my tail.” Volethos rubs absently at his chin, leaning down to look at me. Not that there’s much to see, thanks to my disguise. “But look at this. Just as promised.”
When he reaches out for me, Rovos snatches his wrist in a punishing grip. “Igid has assured me that you can be trusted. That you are an honorable male. I wouldn’t do anything to make me doubt her, if I were you. So I’m going to lay some ground rules.” He releases Volethos’ wrist with a shove, sending the male back a step. “First, you don’t touch her. Ever. Not for any reason.”
“Really, Rovos? You sound like herfather.Or a jealous mate.” Volethos straightens his ratty clothing. “To prove that I am, indeed, as honorable as Igid says: I vow to the Goddess, I will not lay a finger on the human. Not even if she should catch fire.”
A growl rumbled from Rovos. “Do you think this is a joke?”
“No. No, Goddess, no.” A sincere look comes over Volethos’ face. “No harm will come to the human on my watch. Are you appeased? Now, tell me the rest of your stipulations. I’m assuming you have more than just one.”
“Two,” Rovos says, holding up two fingers, “you will keep me informed of exactly where she’ll be on Pamia and what she’ll be doing.”
“There’s a commune of female refugees just outside the capital city of Loetti,” Volethos explains with a roll of his eyes. “The government has granted them a large plot of land and a way to make a living. Alegitimateliving.”
Something about the way Volethos doesn’t meet Rovos’ eyes when he talks to him has my stomach tightening, but before I can dwell on it further, Rovos continues with his demands.
“Three.” Rovos holds up another finger, and Volethos rolls his yellow eyes and groans.
In the time it takes me to blink, Rovos is across the room with one hand wrapped around his throat and a black gun jammed under his chin.
“Ro, what are you doing?” Igid says through gritted teeth. “Put the blaster away!”
“I’m rethinking this plan,” Rovos snarls in Volethos’ face, and I swear I watch the tawny-colored alien pale. “Can we trust you or not?”
“You—can trust me,” Volethos gasps. “Your human will—be safe.”
Satisfied by his answer, Rovos lets go of Volethos, who staggers away with a hand on his throat, dragging in deep gulps of air.
