74. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Z oey
The afternoon with Allura would have been delightful if every time I looked at her I didn’t think about her beautiful opalescent arms—all four of them—wrapped around Steele’s magnificent body.
Her shy attitude slips away when she’s having fun, and it seems like everything we do is fun for her. At first, she didn’t want to spend money. When I asked if Thantose, the captain of her ship, hadn’t given her any credits, her eyes widened in surprise.
“He’s the most generous person I’ve ever met,” she informs me. “Always laughing and teasing. He loaded my comm-bracelet with more credits than I could use in an annum . I just don’t…”
Her voice trails off, but I know what she’s thinking.
“Feel worthy?”
She nods, then admits she was called It for years by an abusive owner. Although I’d heard that, I don’t mention it. I don’t want her to worry that we were somehow making fun of her. On the contrary, when I heard how badly she’d been treated, I liked her that much more.
“Well, if you did feel worthy, what would you buy?” I ask.
She looks around seriously and points to jewelry, a handmade lap robe that looks as if it would feel like the softest kitten fur, and a pretty glass bauble that has no purpose other than to reflect the light in a thousand rays of color.
“Do it, Allura,” I urge. “Buy at least one.”
Ten minutes later, she’s bought all three.
I find something small for Steele, knowing he’ll throw it away the moment the vessel takes off without me. He’ll ache for a while, then he’ll move on. It will be easier for him—any female would be lucky to have him. For me, I know I can never make any male happy, nor do I want to. And where could I ever meet a male half as amazing as my mate?
Steele finds us just as the shopkeeper puts my present into a velveteen bag.
“Productive afternoon?” he asks, his voice strained.
We both nod.
“We should get back to Sanctuary. We’ve got the big talent show tonight,” Steele says, avoiding eye contact.
As we make our way back to the hover, I feel like a fish swimming upstream. Evidently, the crowds get even busier in the afternoon. I hear the fair food is amazing. There are vendors from all over the galaxy serving up their species’ favorite dishes. The smells have been calling to me all day. I guess that’s one benefit of staying on Fairea. I’ll be able to come here whenever I want.
Who am I kidding? I know I’ll be wallowing in self-pity in my room when I’m not helping around the compound. I don’t foresee much joy in the future. Which is okay. I don’t feel I deserve to be happy.
When we’re belted into the hover and heading west toward the compound, I ask, “So, Allura, have you got a talent you’re going to display tonight?”
“Yes,” she says, a sly smile on her face.
“Care to share?” I wonder what her talent is. What secrets lie beneath that beautiful exterior?
“It’s a secret.”
“Darn! That’s what Steele said, too. I’m so curious.”
“You don’t have to wait too much longer,” Steele says. His hand sneaks over and hovers above my knee as if he’s about to give me an affectionate squeeze, but he thinks better of it and jerks his hand back to his lap.
Soon, we’re back at the compound, dressed in nice clothes, and ready for dinner. He always goes commando under his kilt, but tonight he’s wearing his loincloth.
“Care to share?” I ask as I raise my eyebrow.
“You don’t like when your mate has secrets,” he observes, his tone distant.
“Nope.”
“I agree. Mates shouldn’t keep secrets,” he spears me with an unreadable look. Well, it’s readable alright. It’s clear he’s not a happy camper. I just don’t know what he’s angry about. “Tonight isn’t a secret,” he says, trying to erase the anger in his voice, “it’s a surprise.”
He’s been weird since he rejoined Allura and me at the fair. Did he see what I bought him? Is he disappointed I didn’t purchase something more special? That makes no sense at all. He’s the least materialistic person I’ve ever met. All the gladiators are. They’re just happy to have a loincloth and food, as long as they have their mates.
Does he know what I’m planning? Could that explain it? But that’s impossible.
Dinner is fancy and delicious. I feel bad when I realize Maddie did all the cooking. I was supposed to be helping. I’m silently chastising myself when I hear the women from Sanctuary happily talking about the wonderful cooking lesson they got from her today.
Maddie was a sous chef at Spago before her abduction. She figured out how to make space food not just palatable, but delicious. Her techniques will help bring Sanctuary’s food to the next level. I’ll be more helpful in a few days after Steele is gone and I’ve started my new life here.
Dhoom stands and commands our attention by saying, “I understand the proper etiquette on the ships is to shout ‘Hurray for the cooks!’”
We all happily comply. “Thanks to Maddie and all the people who worked so hard not only on the anlak steaks we enjoyed from our own pastures, but all the vegetables from our garden. If you didn’t catch the smell a few hoaras ago, I’ll be happy to inform you they’ve made lots of bake-a-cakes and some pies which we’ll be carrying across the courtyard to the sanctuary where we’ll be holding our Entertainment show.”
Hearty clapping is interrupted by Stryker’s booming voice saying, “I hope there’s some Paragon cake in my future.”
That male loves his Paragon cake, or maybe he just loves anything his mate Maddie bakes.
Dhoom smiles indulgently at Stryker and continues. “I’ve made a unilateral decision and decided not to vote any winners in tonight’s show. Winners mean there are also losers. When we were in the arena earlier today and A’Zul mentioned he didn’t like competition, I decided we should all just enjoy each other’s talents tonight without having to vote. So we are going to call it our Entertainment Night. Who agrees?”
We all clap again, then rise to walk to the sanctuary.
Steele’s obviously pissed. He hasn’t gone this long without touching me since the moment we met. In normal circumstances, his warm fingers would be splayed across the small of my back as he escorts me across the courtyard. Right now, though, he’s an arm’s length away.
Allura’s talking to a couple of the unmated males from Sanctuary, giving no attention to Steele. What did I think would happen? That the sweet Mordite female would flirt with a mated male? How stupid of me.
Steele makes a point of turning left as soon as we enter the sanctuary. I guess he wants to make certain there isn’t a replay of our flirtatious groping from last night when we were on the far right. Trust me, the last thing I want is to start something that will only bring misery to us both.
“I have no special talents,” Ar’Tok says as he takes the stage. It’s only a few feet high, but it runs the full width of the building. “I’ve volunteered to be the talker. I’m told it’s called the MC, Master of Ceremonies.” He’s got a happy smile on his scarred, white face as his thin, sentient dreads splay in the air and gracefully beckon us to watch.
He flies on the Devil’s Playground so I don’t see him often, but now that I have a chance to observe, I’m so proud of him. I don’t know much about his backstory, but it was obvious when we rescued him after we commandeered the slave ship he was being carried on that he was a shy male. He’s big and brawny and was on his way to be trained as a gladiator after being imprisoned his whole life.
I don’t think he ever gave me eye contact when he was on our ship, but he’s looked me straight in the eyes and smiled several times since we’ve been on Fairea. Now here he is, strutting in his leather kilt across the stage as if he owns it. It feels good to see how far he’s come in such a short time.
“We decided to start things off with one of many surprises this evening. Let me introduce Lyra and Petra. Look up!”
Odd music starts that sounds less like music and more like a hammer banging on a saw accompanied by loud cymbals clashing. The two women, dressed in matching purple satin leotards, are standing in the ancient wooden hewn rafters, their arms gracefully out to their sides.
Someone secured two ropes, and now that the women have our attention, they let their lengths tumble toward the floor so they can start their routine.
Petra wasn’t one of the first ten females I was abducted with, but she came aboard shortly thereafter. We were so afraid we wouldn’t have enough credits to feed ourselves and buy fuel, we were reluctant to let her aboard. She managed to make a ton of money performing her rope routine in a seedy bar. She paid her way onto our ship and won our hearts with her willingness to do whatever it took to help out.
She taught Lyra how to perform on the rope soon after Lyra joined us. Although they travel on different ships, they must have been comm’ing like crazy because they are in perfect sync as they scramble up and down the ropes, sometimes with their heads to the ceiling, sometimes to the floor.
The music comes to a halt with even more crashing as extra instruments join in, including what sounds like a hundred drummers banging on trashcans, then the room falls silent.
The two stay motionless for long minutes, each hanging upside down, secured by one ankle, as they receive thunderous applause. Of course, Petra’s mate Shadow and Lyra’s mate Vartan are the loudest of us all.
“Wasn’t that amazing?” Ar’Tok asks after they’ve scampered off their ropes, taken one last bow, and gone back to their seats. He coaxes us into one more round of applause, then introduces the silver and gold twins, Axxios and Braxxus. I’ve known them for two years and can’t imagine what their talent could be.
They’re dressed like all the gladiators dress when they travel to planets for security or to fight. Black leather kilts and a sash across their broad chests.
After they each grab a mic, it takes me a minute to realize they’re doing a standup comedy routine. I’ve never thought they were particularly funny.
The way their race works, one twin is biologically the more dominant of the two. Since they mated, although their love for each other is obvious, they tend to bicker over the smallest things. I think it’s their way of showing affection.
They’ve taken this tendency and spun it into an art form as they gently heckle each other up on stage. For two serious guys, their routine is hysterical. It feels like their act has barely gotten started when they give us one more uproarious laugh, then take a bow to wild applause.
The mics still in their hands, Braxxus says, “See how much they all liked my jokes?”
“Are you crazy,” Axxios retorts, “they didn’t realize you were even on the stage. All that applause is for me.”
Before they leave the stage, they beckon Brianna, their mate, to join them and force her to take a bow with them.
“She deserves all your applause,” they tell us, “She wrote our script.”
Ahh, she’s the one with the killer sense of humor. That makes sense.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a night of entertainment without Grace playing her music. She’s musically gifted but is painfully shy about performing. I mean, cold sweats and barfing shy. She played only for herself, keeping her talent hidden until Callista uploaded her music on the galaxy’s version of YouTube.
Before we knew it, half the galaxy was clamoring for performances. Her first attempt at a public concert was a disaster because the emperor of the planet was a murderous psychopath who wanted to collect her and keep her in a dungeon. She certainly wasn’t shy about killing his ass with the help of her soon-to-be mate, Tyree. Tyree used to be a genderless three-foot tall being, but you certainly wouldn’t know that by looking at him now. He’s built so big you’d never know he wasn’t a gladiator.
Grace always wears a beautiful dress when she performs, so she takes the stage, sits in an ornately carved upholstered chair, and plays the ethereal music that is her trademark.
Although I’m looking straight ahead, I’m acutely aware of Steele sitting next to me. As always, I’m completely tuned into him. I feel heat radiating from him, although he’s half a foot away. My fingers itch to intertwine with his. I ache to inch closer and snuggle, to be bolstered by his love for me. It’s something I’ve counted on for the past two years. He’s never failed to be there for me.
I feel the sharpest pang of sadness as I realize that in a few short days, I’ll never have this again. I’d thought it would be best to start the separation process now, hoping it would make parting easier, but I have a swift debate with myself as the beautiful music drifts through the room.
Why disengage prematurely? It’s going to happen soon enough, isn’t it? Would it be so terrible to slide closer and allow my palm to rest on his shimmering silver thigh?
I know if I continue this debate, my logical mind will prevail, so I terminate my inner argument and scoot closer, capture his hand in mine, and lace our fingers. For good measure, I lay my head on his upper arm.
A feeling of peace permeates every cell in my body, as if my world had been upside down and has just been set to rights. My heart squeezes because of the conflicting emotions vying for supremacy. I love this male more than life itself. I want to stay with him forever. From shortly after our first meeting, I couldn’t imagine ever parting. Some of my fondest daydreams are of us growing old together.
But the shit in my head is messing everything up, tearing us apart. If it was just about me, I’d stay with him forever, but every time we have a disastrous coupling like we did last night, it’s as if I kill a little piece of him. Staying together is simply not fair to Steele.
But, oh, I can bask in his warmth right now. As soon as I scooted closer, his arm reached around to not only embrace me, but to pull me even closer and press my head to his naked pec. He’s so gentle, so loving. His head is tipped to mine and every so often his lips kiss my hair as if it’s as natural as breathing.
It’s only now, as every muscle in my body unclenches, that I realize how tightly I’ve been wound. I relax against him and feel as if I’m able to take a full breath for the first time since I decided to stay on Fairea.
“I’ve been preoccupied, Love,” he whispers warmly into my ear. “Lots on my mind.” He presses a tiny peck behind my ear. “I’ll be a better mate from now on.” Another kiss, then we both watch Grace as she plays her finale.
“Zoey.” It takes Steele’s soft voice in my ear to pull me out of my reverie and wake me up to the fact that it’s time for a standing ovation.
Grace is beaming, holding her instrument and taking a bow. She’s come a long way since her so-anxious-I-have-to-run-to-the-bathroom-to-vomit days. Her mate, Tyree, is making a two-fingered whistle and stomping. They’re still so much in love, it’s a pleasure watching them.
“Thanks to our lovely Grace,” Ar’Tok says as he mounts the stage again. “I just want to interrupt this fantastic lineup of talent to remind you that not everyone’s skill is a spectator sport. I know I might be leaving some of you out, but thanks to the talented people who pilot our ships, fix our engines, cook our delicious food, spend hoaras on comms making sure the cartel and the Feds aren’t in the same sector looking for us…” He takes a bow, then points his extended arms and nods his head at Callista. She runs comms on the Fool’s Errand and he runs them on the Devil’s Playground .
“Thanks to the unsung heroes here on Sanctuary who tend the crops, curry the mroncks , and renovate the buildings. Thanks to those who fight for credits in far arenas, struggle with balancing the books, finding us new contracts to bring in credits, and to those who work on computers and tend our hydroponics plants.”
During this time, he left the stage and wended his way through the pews to his mate, Star. She’s a lovely woman who was born in space and because she was human, had been hiding on a decaying satellite after both her parents—an Earth mother and an adoptive Whelpie father—died.
He grabs her hand and leans his mouth to her ear, obviously having to do some sweettalking to convince her to rise from her seat and take a bow. She’s a computer hacker extraordinaire and oversees the hydroponics labs she set up on both ships.
Everyone applauds all the people he mentioned. Pride bursts in my chest as I realize I do contribute to the ship. Not everyone can be a pilot, or talented like Grace. We all have a place in this ragtag bunch as we each pitch in according to our abilities to keep the ships running and stay one step away from the jerks who are pursuing us across the galaxy.
I found a way to be helpful on the Fool , and I’ll find a way to pull my weight here on Sanctuary. I’ll just have to do it without Steele.
“Next up, Sanctuary’s own Abraxx and Juno. As she told me, Juno was forced to dance as a slave to entice crowds so they could hear her master’s pitch to buy… what did you call it? Snake oil? To hear them tell, it was love at first sight. Juno pulled Abraxx from the crowd and they made magic when they danced. Let’s watch their magic now.”
Juno is wearing a multicolored gypsy-like scarf dress. The hem of varying lengths is perfect for dancing because it catches the breeze and swirls around her ankles, sometimes up to her thighs.
Abraxx is wearing a blue muslin tunic and trousers. Even the thick, fleshy ropes on his head sway with his movements. They dance together like perfection. It’s a joy to watch them, accompanied by Grace playing a lively tune that reminds me of Appalachian folk music.
All three are smiling as Juno and Abraxx dance beautifully together. Watching them whirl seamlessly, as if their bodies are wordlessly communicating, I can’t help but imagine how they move together in bed. My face flames, but I can’t get the picture out of my head. Jealousy whips through me as my petty thoughts turn to the fact that they share something I’ll never have.
I just clasp Steele’s hand tighter and press the smallest kiss to his bare chest.
“I love you, my Zoey,” he whispers into my hair.
“We have two more acts indoors, so if you want to grab a dessert or two, now’s the time.” Ar’Tok pauses, glances at the ceiling theatrically, and says, “I know I’m forgetting something.”
A’Zul stands, shimmers, and morphs into his dreambaby form. He’s much closer than when he was shifting in the arena, and his shift elicits ooh’s and aah’s from us all.
“Let the petting and dessert-getting begin,” Ar’Tok says, “then two more acts and we’ll move to the arena for tonight’s grand finale.”
“I’ll get you a bit of everything,” Steele says as he rises. I take a deep breath and watch him as he lets Dax and Stryker shove their way to the front of the line. While he’s elbowing his way to the desserts, I wait in line to pet A’Zul. Just as I imagined, he’s soft as a kitten.
When the room quiets, So’Lan makes his way to the stage. While I watch him, still needing a cane to walk even though it’s been months since we freed him from the underground dungeon, I feel a jolt of pity. I quickly force that emotion away. He was so close to death when Zar, captain of our ship and a male of the same species, carried him up the steps and to the medbay. He’s lucky to be alive.
He’s of the Ton’arr race, half humanoid, half lion. I find their species attractive, with their wild manes, feline noses, and ferocious fangs. Even though he’s bent as he puts more weight on his cane with every step, his tail tells a different story. It happily flicks back and forth, hinting at the lively mind inside his broken body.
The throne-like carved chair is in the center of the stage, and So’Lan regally takes a seat.
“It’s hard to follow such talented acts,” So’Lan says. His s’s are projected in a slight lisp because Daneur Khour pulled his fangs when he was in the dungeon. “While you finish your desserts, I want to entertain you with a story about Gaia.” This last word is whispered in a hushed tone.
Shadow talks about Gaia frequently, so I’m interested in what So’Lan has to say.
“Some say Gaia is fact, some say it’s fiction. I’ve been researching during my convalescence, and all I’ll tell you is… I’m a believer.”
He settles his hands on his thighs, straightens his back, and tells the tale of ancients who were far more advanced than any other species in the universe. They went through the galaxy seeding humanoid-supporting planets with their DNA.
“Look around.” He pauses for effect. “There are twenty species in this room, yet we are all capable of the same level of thought. We all walk on two feet. Our faces have more similarities than differences.
“The legend also says the Gaians came back from time to time to seed our planets with their culture, but this, this is where the experts and I differ.” He leans forward to make certain we’re listening. I find myself on the edge of my seat, waiting for his next pronouncement.
“No species capable of interstellar flight aeons ago, who benevolently left their DNA to grow into the vastly different species represented in this room, would also want to spread slavery, hardship, and chaos.
“Look what’s been wrought. Every person here has worn a slave collar. Such intelligent, benign beings didn’t spread coliseums, gladiatorial matches to the death, and the idea of one person owning another. I believe there is another race, a more sinister race, who did those things.”
He stands with effort, bent forward more than when he took the stage, as if the very act of talking for a few minutes sapped his energy.
“It is my fondest wish to find Gaia. If not me…” He uses his free hand to motion toward his broken body. “Then perhaps one of your ships. I believe they seeded planets in the hopes we’d evolve, develop space flight on our own, and come to find them.”
As he makes his way back to his seat, Steele rises to help him, but sits back down when Zar hurries to his side. Seeing the two Ton’arr males, one hale, hearty, and in his prime, and the other stooped in pain, is heartbreaking. After the Fool leaves, I’ll have plenty of time to ask Pherutan, Sanctuary’s medic, if So’lan is expected to make a full recovery.
“Thank you, So’Lan. That information brings such interesting possibilities,” Ar’Tok says as he takes the stage.
“The last indoor act of the night is a secret,” Ar’Tok announces after he’s asked us to return to our seats. “I’ll be as surprised as all of you. I’ve been asked to call Melodie and Allura to the stage.”
I don’t know Melodie well. She was one of the women we rescued on Sanctuary a few months ago. She sometimes goes on Naomi’s secret missions. No one will go into detail, but by the way they squirm when asked about it, I assume they’re illegal—and quite lucrative.
On her first mission, she went with Thran, the handsome Simkin male who is the same race as Ar’Tok. I’m told they started the mission barely friends and returned ready to mate. To look at them, they sure love each other now.
“Before we take this show on the road, Allura and I wanted to ask you to check your wrist-comms,” Melodie says, an innocent look on her face.
The audience gets quiet, then there are soft titters and quiet gasps as one by one we all check our wrists. I say wrists and not comms, because none of us are wearing comms anymore.
“What?” I ask faintly as I look at my bare arm, then glance to Steele, who also has no comm.
When we glance at the stage, Melodie and four-armed Allura are cracking up as they hold up multiple comms in each of their six hands.
“Daneur Khour forced me to learn how to pick pockets,” Melodie says, a huge grin gracing her pretty face. “Naomi taught me with the seven-bells technique. When Thran and I were on the pirate ship after they saved our asses, Allura asked me to teach her.” She turns to her friend and says, “It’s obvious you’ve been practicing. You beat my record, although you have a secret weapon. Four arms are obviously better than two.”
We are all still shaking our heads in amazement as Ar’Tok urges us to make our way to the arena. Melodie and Allura stand smirking at the door, handing everyone their comms as they file past.