Chapter 16 #2
I knew what the “this” was she was referring to, and I didn’t know what to do with it either.
I drew one hand up and caressed her face.
My thumb traced the fine lines at the corners of her eyes.
Lines that had been etched from smiles and stayed for wisdom.
They matched lines on my own face. “I am still trying to understand why you want me.” The arm wrapped around her waist tightened.
“I’m an old, scarred mercenary. Grumpy, too. We’d argue all the time.”
Her lips curved into a trembling smile. “I know. It makes no sense.”
“And you’re beautiful,” I added. “Fierce and strong and loved by your people. You don’t need a man like me. You don’t need any man.”
She nodded silently. “No, I don’t. But I want a man like you. Specifically, you, Gilrox.”
Her words amazed me. “Would your people even accept me?”
“They already have.”
“No, as your—your…partner, I mean.”
“They already have, you dense man.” Her face softened and she ran her hands over my hair. “Do you honestly think the people in this village have no idea how we feel about each other?”
I thought about Pasek’s remarks and how little effort I’d put into hiding my interest in her.
And how she’d done nothing to dissuade me.
In fact, she’d reciprocated my interest. These people were not hardened mercenaries who wouldn’t recognize a soft sentiment if it hit them over the head.
“I assumed that because you’re you, and I’m…
well. You didn’t like me when we first met. ”
“I like you now,” she said firmly. “And I’ve made that very clear.”
“I suppose you have,” I replied gruffly, wrapping both arms around her again. I got a little bold and cupped her fine, rounded bottom. “So where are we taking this?”
Maive raised one arched brow. “Tonight? Not upstairs, but I’m also not ready to stop kissing yet.” She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, I hope you didn’t think—”
I pressed my lips to hers, once. Quick. To stop whatever she was about to say. “I didn’t. Maive, this happens at your pace, or not at all. If you want kissing, you get kissing. If you want more, you tell me. I want only what you are ready for. Nothing more.”
That was apparently the right thing to say because she made a little noise in her throat, kind of like a whimper, and pulled me close for another kiss.
This one was longer, and I let myself settle in for it.
I loved the way her lips moved over mine.
The way her hands felt on the back of my head. The way her body fit against mine.
Sometime later, I said good night and took my shuttle home. B2 met me in the shuttle bay as I jumped down.
“Nothing anomalous this evening, Gilrox.”
“Thank the flecking stars,” I muttered, and went inside.
My body had cooled, but my thoughts had heated.
I had a woman. The thought astounded me.
It made no sense that she would choose me.
None. I was all the things I said I was, plus some things I’d rather she never knew about my past. It was colorful enough without her hearing the details of my past profession.
And with her acceptance of me—possibly—as her partner, came the urgent need to keep her and that village full of Runams safe from whatever flecking mess was coming their way.
I sat and stared at the dark interface panel.
This part of my house had been the command center when it had been a ship and it had remained so, untouched.
I hadn’t yet been able to bring myself to dismantle it, and now, I was glad for that.
I hadn’t really been in here since arriving on Podnos-9, but at my touch, the display started up, pulsing softly.
My hands shook as I opened a line to the guild after resigning. It wasn’t a life I wanted to reopen. But the Durbok’s words made it clear that I was out of better options.
“Computer, access my account in the guild registry. Access code Gilrox33928-B.”
Voice verification enacted. Connection achieved. Welcome, Gilrox Ban-Ver-Mos, Rank V, Level Ten Mercenary. Status: Retired. What is your purpose for contact?
I ran a hand through my hair, recently mussed by Maive’s fingers.
I wouldn’t mention the probe, or the Durbok, or the thermal reading at the northern perimeter, or the fact that I knew someone was looking for a planet that matched every feature of the one I was currently sitting on.
“Inquiring whether the guild is aware of any current syndicate-level activity in the outer quadrant. Specifically, around the Lesser Wafsel system.”
Purpose for inquiry?
“Personal.”
The guild cannot release information to non-active or retired guild members, the computer voice said calmly. Your request will be forwarded to an officer of appropriate rank for consideration. Expect a response in three to five standard galactic days.
Great. The transmission shut off. I had expected that response, but it was frustrating nonetheless.
Most of my life, I had nothing worth protecting. That was a specific state of being, and it had served me well. You made cleaner decisions without the distortion of something to lose. You were less predictable. Less readable. Harder to move against.
I had become considerably more readable in the past few months.
What I had built here was exactly as good as it had felt, and I’d known that for a while, and here was the next part of that: it could be lost. Not easily, maybe.
Not without resistance, certainly. But the line between the two points of my house and the village to the north was a path I could walk blind now.
The people who smiled when they saw me, who traded food and stories and their lives were exactly as real and fragile as any other thing worth having.
I was not going to let it be taken.
I didn’t know yet what that looked like. I’d know more when the guild replied. In the meantime, I’d keep my eyes open and tell B2 to lower the sensitivity thresholds on the perimeter sensors.
I went to bed.