Chapter 9 Lyra
lyra
Hangovers and Heists
This is what death feels like—I’m sure of it.
The throbbing headache builds between my eyes and the swirling nausea roils in my gut, launching me up and out of bed hours before I would have normally woken.
I hurtle to the bathroom as fast as possible, crashing into the walls of the corridor in an effort to make it to the toilet before I vomit all over the floor.
I heave, spilling everything I ate and drank yesterday into the shining metal toilet bowl. Huh. My toilet isn’t usually so clean. I look around and take in the pristine state of the bathroom, down to the clean, folded towels and—is that an orchid on the counter?
Orion. Bless that precious, infuriating, sexy tree hugger.
Orion has kept my ship cleaner than it was when I first inherited her.
It’s too bad he’s made such a decent partner on this ill-fated trip.
It makes stealing from him and dumping his unhappy ass back on Xylothia slightly more complicated than I originally planned.
Another wave of nausea rises and I grip the edge of the bowl. Ada’s chime echoes through the bathroom, sounding impossibly loud to my sensitive ears.
Do you require medical care or is this another hangover after exceeding your limits with Zorium moonshine?
“Shh! Stars, Ada, turn down the volume,” I moan, clutching my head.
After flushing the toilet, I glare at my reflection in the mirror.
I’ve definitely looked better. Dark circles ring my eyes and my left cheek sports ink stains from where I passed out on top of my father’s journal and drooled all over the pages.
Gross. I left Orion in the kitchen after our apocalyptic drinking game, too emotional and horny to be near him any longer.
Instead, I stumbled to my berth and dug out Dad’s old books to see everything he’s written about the Dark Star.
Unfortunately, the moonshine caught up to me before I could find anything.
Or maybe Iathos is full of shit and just likes to see me squirm.
I wash my face and brush my teeth, then trudge back to my room. I desperately want to go back to sleep, but through the mist of stale alcohol still whirling in my brain, I remember everything I divulged to Orion the night before.
“Oh no,” I groan from beneath my covers. “Ada, is Orion awake?”
Yes.
“Shit. Where is he?” The last thing I want is to run into him when I look like…well, like I’d just hurled my very soul into the plumbing.
Orion is training in the gym, where he spends every morning.
“What? Every morning?” I ask, incredulous. “You’re telling me he gets up at this ungodly hour every morning to exercise?”
Yes. You would also benefit greatly from more training.
“Hard pass. Mom taught me the blade, Dad taught me how to shoot, and that’s plenty. Besides, I take back every kind thought I had about Orion this morning. The man is clearly a freak, and not in the good, tie-you-to-the-bed kind of way,” I grumble.
Stars, my head aches. I grab some clean clothes and make my way to the shower, hoping the steaming hot water will help erase at least part of my hangover. The rest can be cured with a couple painkillers, a bucket of coffee, and something fried for breakfast.
I feel somewhat better after my shower, but not good enough to brave combing out the tangles in my hair, so I dump it into a messy bun on top of my head and pad on bare feet to the kitchen. Coffee is pivotal to existence this morning.
Halfway through my second cup, Orion strides in, his shirtless torso gleaming with sweat.
“Oh! I, uh, didn’t expect to see you up this early,” he says, draping a towel around his neck. I stare at a lone drop of sweat trailing down the deep valleys between his muscles, unable to tear my gaze away.
“Before you hit me with an ‘I told you not to challenge me,’ you should know that I’m wildly hungover and will only be grumpier if you tell me you woke up feeling completely fine after last night,” I bite out, laying my head against the cool metal of the kitchen table.
Orion chuckles and pours himself a cup of coffee, then slides into the seat across from me.
“Of course not,” he says. “I wasn’t fine. I woke up feeling kind of thirsty.”
I groan loudly and flip him off.
“Well, if you think you can stomach some food, I can make you something that’s sure to help you feel better,” he says, sipping his coffee.
“Oh, he cooks!” I drawl, rolling my eyes—and immediately regretting it as the symphony of pain in my head returns. “Ugh, I deserved that. Fine, Ranger, ply me with your vegetarian witchcraft.”
“I’ll make you breakfast on one condition,” he says, getting up to pull a host of ingredients from the pantry and small refrigeration unit below the counter. He pulls out two large kitchen knives and sharpens them deftly while prepping the space.
“I’m afraid to ask,” I reply. “But I think I’m too hungry to refuse.”
“You have to tell me about the buyer we’re going to visit on Minaris.” He pulls a few fresh vegetables out and begins to chop them up while I consider the best way to answer him.
“Do you know anything of Minaris?” I ask, swirling the dregs of my coffee around the bottom of my cup. Without missing a beat, Orion grabs the pot and comes over to refill it.
“I know it’s one of the most populous metropolitan cities on the planet Mallorus, and as such, they struggle with a lot of crime. The Feds have a strong presence there, but everyone knows they’re dealing with their own corruption,” he says.
“Have you heard of the Triumvirate?”
The knife pauses mid-air and he looks up at me, concern clouding the deep green of his eyes.
“Everyone knows about the Triumvirate,” he says.
“Three ancient Senterion families who have held onto power through the darker dealings in Minaris. They control the drug trade, run protection rackets, hoard information for blackmail and control, and have their fingers in every dirty deal this side of the galaxy.”
“I hope you don’t know any of them personally,” I say, wincing, knowing he’s already going to be pissed about this half-cocked plan.
“Why?” he asks.
“Well, let’s just say I’m no longer welcome on Mallorus,” I grumble. “So you’ll be going in for me.”
Orion arches a brow. “They banned you from the entire planet? Stars, Lyra, what did you do?”
I see the warning bells pealing in Orion’s head as his expression darkens. He continues to cook, dumping the vegetables into a hot pan and shaking an unholy amount of dried spices over them. The fragrant heat makes my mouth water almost as much as Orion’s lean muscles and dark freckles.
I sigh, knowing he isn’t going to like what I have to say.
“A couple years ago, Brill sent me to Minaris to bargain for some ancient book that was being auctioned off by one of the Triumvirate families. The auction took place in the back room of one of their swanky casinos—the Red Sands, owned by the worst of the lot of them, Fobos. Have you heard of him?”
Orion shakes his head, stirring the food in the pan with slow, rhythmic circles.
I’d be willing to bet a considerable sum on him being an infuriatingly patient lover who displays the same kind of deliberate attention to his partner’s body.
How annoying these lusty thoughts are becoming.
My nipples tighten as I visualize things a far cry from breakfast and jewel heists.
“Well, consider yourself lucky. He’s as mean as he is greedy and destroys everything that isn’t worth selling,” I say bitterly.
“Sounds like you know him personally,” Orion suggests in a displeased tone.
Visions of my night in Fobos’ arms return.
It was considerably less enjoyable than my time with Iathos.
The unwanted memory creeps in—the sharp smell of his skin, the velvet couch sinking beneath me, the faint din of the casino floor below.
He’d talked the whole time, voice slick as oil, calling me “profitable.” It hadn’t been cruel, exactly—just cold.
Transactional. I’d left feeling scrubbed raw, like something valuable had been pawned without my permission.
Orion catches my shudder from the corner of his eye.
“I was there to get the book for Brill. As soon as the bidding started, I knew Brill had set me up to fail. Even with his resources, the amount of credits in that room made him look like a lowly dock worker. Bidding escalated way beyond what he’d instructed me to offer, but when I contacted him and told him the situation, he lost his shit.
Told me to come back with the book, or I’d face some really unpleasant consequences.
” He wanted me humiliated, I realize now.
Maybe to test my loyalty—or to remind me who owned my debt.
Either way, it worked. The higher the bids climbed, the smaller I felt.
Orion cracks a few eggs into the pan of vegetables and grates some cheese on top. My stomach growls audibly, and despite the disapproval in his eyes at my story, he smirks.
“It’s almost done,” he says. “Do continue.”
“You seem pretty comfortable cooking with Earth ingredients considering you haven’t ventured off world in a few decades,” I remark.
He shrugs. “I finished reading your romances and am working my way through the rest of your books. The cookbooks are…odd, but there are some parallels in Xylothian cuisine. And I like cooking.”
Belatedly, I wipe the simpering look from my face and clear my throat.