Stars in Nova (The Sable Riders #6)

Beauty, Wonder, Peace

T he Rider leaned back in his chair at CyVoda, his shoulders tense from the grueling day.

His day had imploded after his encounter with the young boy and Samira.

A raid of an illegal koko repository had almost gone bust.

The ache in his ribs from his earlier fall off the rooftop of the gang’s warehouse hadn’t quite subsided. The dull pulse in his temple reminded him of the con he’d tackled into a stack of alloy crates.

After, he’d been called to assist in a shakedown of a money launderer.

The thug had chosen to take the Eden Guards on a flyer chase through the city, which ended with Kisan having to T-bone the fleeing criminal.

Despite his metanoids working to heal him, the whiplash made itself known in the throbbing ache radiating from his neck.

With immense relief, he stretched out his legs, the bioluminescent lake before him, its tranquil glow and ethereal beauty, offering some solace.

The crowd murmured in anticipation as the lights dimmed.

Kisan’s eyes were already fixed on the stage, heart thrumming in expectation at the mesmerizing water dance that drew him back here again and again.

Samira emerged from the mist, her silhouette cutting through the soft haze.

The air seemed to change as she stepped onto the water’s surface, her lithe form bending and twisting as though she were an extension of the lake.

Her long black hair flowed behind her, catching the glow of the bioluminescence, shimmering with each movement.

This time, her choreography was a story woven into fluid movements, encompassing grief, resilience, longing, and hope.

Kisan’s breath caught with every motion.

The water obeyed her commands, rising to her touch, swirling around her legs, and then shooting upward in arcing jets that dissolved into fine mist.

Every action seemed effortless, yet he sensed the control and power in each motion.

At one point, while executing a flip, her unusual eyes locked onto his, a glance that sent a flicker of heat through him.

He shifted in his seat, gripping the edge of his glass, but his gaze never wavered.

She had an uncanny ability to make him feel both vulnerable and captivated at the same time.

After her performance, Kisan lingered.

He didn’t know why—perhaps because it was easier to stay in the tranquility of CyVoda than face the emptiness of his apartment.

He was nursing his last drink when the establishment’s owner approached. He was a broad-shouldered Iccythrian man with an easy smile and a knack for conversation.

Raza Jhal was a magnetic figure infamous across Eden II.

A sapphire jewel graced his chin, and his thick, black beard, threaded with gold chains and polished gems, bestowed him with a regal presence.

Raza’s deep brown skin shimmered, adorned with intricate jewels, and his dark eyes often crinkled with laughter as if always enjoying a private joke. With a booming voice full of charm, Raza was the heart and soul of CyVoda.

‘You’ve been coming here often,’ he said, sliding into the seat facing Kisan without waiting for an invitation.

Kisan jerked his chin. ‘The performances help me unwind.’

The owner chuckled. ‘The shows, or one in particular?’

Kisan tensed but said nothing.

Raza, enjoying himself, continued, ‘You should try the private spa pool experience. It’s part of the offering and will work wonders all over you.’

Kisan snorted, but the idea lingered.

After a particularly brutal shift the following evening, his body aching and his mind clouded, Kisan found his feet tracking towards the establishment’s front desk requesting a session.

Raza was more than happy to oblige him.

‘My friend,’ he told Kisan. ‘You need the full package. Massage, heated towels, a rub down - the lot. May CyVoda soothe your troubles; let your weary bones find beauty, wonder, and peace.’

‘Is that right?’ Kisan drawled, eyebrow arched, ever skeptical.

‘’Tis. While I wax on about the artistry of the aerial dancers or the healing properties of the lake, my joy comes from seeing his patrons leave lighter than when they arrived. Life,’ Raza added, ‘is like this reservoir. Dark in its depths, glowing at its edges. My job, my friend, is to make you appreciate the glow.’

Persuaded, Kisan allowed Raza to lead him into a private treatment room tucked away from the busier central lagoon.

Here, the lake was divided into smaller, heated mineral pools.

Steam rose in tendrils, filling the air with a calming warmth.

A pair of attendants guided Kisan through a meticulous process.

First, a deep-tissue massage kneaded the tension from his back and shoulders.

Followed by a full body scrub—an intense, almost ritualistic cleansing with fragrant oils that left his skin tingling.

By the time they finished, Kisan felt close to weightlessness, pummeled into submission by the care and precision of their work.

‘Now take a swim, sir,’ one of the aides encouraged. ‘The reservoir is packed with minerals that will restore you. It’s a shared lake, mind, so you may bump into other patrons or some of our dancers while practicing.’

He raised a chin in gratitude, lassitude coming over him.

He slipped into one of the pools in shorts, letting the warm liquid envelop him.

It was unlike anything he’d experienced before—tranquil yet invigorating, as though the water carried a subtle energy that seeped into his muscles.

He closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting.

He opened them when the water shifted at the pool’s far end.

His eyes fell on a sleek form, cutting through the surface with practiced grace.

Finding the wall, he leaned on it, eyes on the streaking figure.

His eyes widened as the silhouette rose into the air. Buoyed by fluid kinetics, it began a series of complicated twists and turns.

It was her .

His heart lurched.

Samira.

She whirled and then came to an abrupt stop, her slick head tilting as she studied him.

Kisan’s breath caught, and his chest tightened.

Unworthy of her attention, yet irresistibly drawn to her, her soul his beacon above the shimmering waterway.

He’d returned.

Tonight, he’d let down more inhibitions, booking a pamper package and a swim in the lake.

CyVoda was working its charm on him because, th e mother of Vaelorii, he was beautiful .

She stood at the bank’s edge, her feet touching the cool water, eyes fixed on him.

He lingered waist-deep, his sinewed frame juxtaposed against the shimmering surface like a sculpture come to life.

A radiance danced across his skin, illuminating the intricate network of meta-black and glowing green tattoos, which pulsed and were alive with meta-kinetic energy.

Each curve of his muscles, honed from years of combat, seemed to catch and hold the light. The ridges of his torso gleamed as droplets clung to his sinewed chest and shoulders.

His posture was commanding, as if he owned the water he stood in.

The shadows, untouched by the underground illumination lining the lake, cast soft patterns on his face. They didn’t diminish the striking sharpness of his jaw or the cleft of his chin.

His black hair, damp and tousled, fell in loose strands around his face, framing those viridescent eyes that always seemed to penetrate straight through her.

Samira’s breath hitched as his gaze lifted, locking onto hers.

The liquid’s glimmer reflected in his irises, lending them an otherworldly glow that caused her heart to stutter.

He didn’t smile, but there was a softness in his expression—a quiet vulnerability that she sensed he rarely allowed to show.

It made her chest tighten and her pulse rate rise.

Her fingers itched to trace the planes of his arms, their sinewy strength evident even in repose.

The way the fluid rippled against his hips, teasing at the edges of his black shorts pants, sent a warm flush to her cheeks. She tore her gaze away, embarrassed by her thoughts, only to find herself drawn back to him.

Kisan tilted his head, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

‘Am I that interesting, Samira?’ he growled, his voice like gravel smoothed by time.

Her entire body lurched, and she bit her lip to stop the surge of desire that shot through her.

His eyes fell to her mouth.

‘More than interesting,’ she said.

‘Is that so?’ He swam closer, the water parting around him. ‘Because from where I’m standing, the view is spectacular.’

Fokk, he was built to be taboo.

The richness of his timbre sent a shiver down her spine, but she lifted her chin, refusing to let him see how much he affected her.

‘You’re not bad yourself for a brooding meta with a history.’

‘Not bad?’ He stopped just before her, his presence filling the space between them.

The scent of the lake clung to him—clean and earthy, mingling with the spice of his skin.

His hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, the calloused warmth of his fingertips lingering against her cheek. ‘I’ll take it.’

Her heart surged as she gazed up at him.

His beauty was almost too much up close, with the stark angles of his face softened by the quiet intensity in his eyes. This man, forged in battle and scarred by his past, carried a depth that intimidated and captivated her.

‘You’re staring,’ he murmured, his smirk deepening.

‘Maybe I like what I see,’ she shot back, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

Kisan chuckled, hoarse and rich, the sound vibrating through her. ‘The sentiment’s mutual.’

They locked eyes until she sunk back slowly into the water, the ripples between them carrying an unspoken tension.

She dipped her head, her dark tresses fanning as she disappeared below the surface.

When she emerged on the far side of the pool, she glanced back at him once before slipping away.