Chapter Five
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
"Oh hell, Hon. I'm so sorry!"
His force field still sparked with violet flares. From within came a brittle cry not unlike that of a hurt puppy. The Dara from the early television broadcast quickly dropped beside him, wide-eyed with both concern and fury.
I offered a hand and prepped a longer apology. A shadow fell over us, and the air tightened as if a storm rolled up. There he was, staring down.
Zephyron.
He was massive, taller than any Human male, and broader than Alen.
A heavy fur cloak rested on his shoulders, its thick weight shifting with the quick rise and fall of his chest. Long dark-blond hair framed a face carved with sharp angles and a cutting grimace.
Deep, violet eyes burned into me before my knees buckled.
Zephyron stepped forward, positioning himself directly between me and his Femeni. His voice lowered, "You are fortunate the Emperor decreed your kind worthy to produce children. Otherwise, I would erase you from existence."
"I didn't mean—" My words faltered under his glare. It's not the first time that I had faced a bigger man, but now I... froze.
The Dara leaned in between Zephyron and me. Where his huge mate was a raw, unbridled force, the smaller man carried himself with a calmer, calculated air. His skin was lighter, a warm bronze shade, and medium-shade purple eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me and the crowd.
"Restraint," the Dara said firmly and placed a hand on the larger man's chest.
Zephyron's jaw tightened as he glanced down at their Femeni. His frown softened for a fraction of a second, but when his gaze snapped back, the fury returned.
I raised my hands instinctively, stepping back. "I didn't mean to! It was an accident."
The alien giant repeated my words, "An accident? Do you know what could have happened?"
"I—no, I mean yes!"
"You Humans," he spat the words heavy with disdain. "Careless and reckless. So much so, you damage your own planet. You don't think. All you do is..." His nostrils flared. "Smell!"
There were more important questions, but I repeated his last word.
"You stink of salty liquid and the slithering scaled vermin within."
"Enough," the Dara repeated. His hand on Zephyron's chest pushed him back slightly, though the effort seemed more symbolic. If his mate wanted to lay into me, nothing would stop him. "My First, you're scaring him."
I didn't know if he meant his mate or me.
"Zeph?" the Dara said softly. "Escalation helps nobody. He's ignorant, not malicious."
Zephyron's gaze flicked back then to his Femeni, who rose and stood silently behind him, his light violet eyes darting nervously between the two of us. The sight of his two mates relaxed him slightly. His slender shoulders lowered as he inhaled. "I will be well. He is like me, please my First..."
The fury in Zephyron's eyes flickered, and he turned to me.
"Next time, maintain a three-breath distance.
That's the space we give strangers lest they become enemies.
" Before I could ask or even process the sheer hostility radiating off him, they each placed a hand against the force field and guided the smaller man away, disappearing into the crowd.
My skin turned hot and clammy, and my chest grew tight. Around me, the room hummed back to life, the near-disaster noticed, but unacknowledged by most.
Brandon appeared at my side. "What happened?" he asked in a hushed voice.
"I plowed into their Omega, uh, Femeni."
He winced. "Oh, Thomas, that's not great."
"Yeah, I got that. What's his deal anyway? I mean, yes, it was an accident, and I'm sorry I hurt him. All my fault, one-hundred percent, but his hate! I could feel it."
Brandon hesitated, glancing toward Alen, who was watching us from across the room with a concerned frown. "Volardi don't do 'accidents' when it comes to their Femeni. They're precious. And after the Gloom..."
He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
Guilt twisted in my chest. I hit the little guy, yes.
My fault. Full stop. So tell me what I need to do to make it right, and I'm there, but who the hell did Zeppo think he was talking to me like that?
Judging me, acting like I was something beneath him?
And I don't smell. He can go back to his desert. I didn't come here to be looked at like garbage.
Leaving sounded great, but I couldn't so soon after what happened.
I made the rounds feeling like a liar, as I nodded to stories people had already decided were true.
Several congratulated my rescue, still playing continually via hologram.
Others spoke of how I'd have the most beautiful babies ever.
Business cards got thrust into my hand with promises of deals and sponsorships. Others had me take selfies.
The Volardi were less overt, but several Soturi were here minus mates. Without looking, I knew their eyes were on me.
Zephyron was gone, but his glare lingered like a stain I couldn't scrub away. We grew up poor, but so did everyone else around us. Only the city folks ever gave us similar looks, the kind that said you were beneath them without saying a word. This new comparison didn't escape me.
What I need is space and not the kind under the Empire's rule. I slipped out through the double doors, searching for somewhere I wouldn't be scrutinized, sized up, or labeled nothing but a baby maker.
My implant buzzed softly in my ear like it did when Alen spoke Volardi.
"—this entire spectacle is beneath us," came a low, gravelly voice. It didn't take a genius to recognize the 'holier than thou' owner.
My steps slowed as I picked up more words.
"We were asked, no, ordered, to attend by the Emperor," he continued. "To grovel before these Humans, to act like we need them."
"We don't," said the softer voice of his Dara, "however, the Empire does."
Zephyron's voice hardened. "The entire planet is a cesspool with water everywhere. Their planet stinks of salt and rot. And these Humans..." He trailed off, but the disgust in his tone was unmistakable. "I cannot wait to leave."
We had two things in common: light-years apart, and each strong-armed into this. Me with the general's veiled threats and promises to help my family. He by his Emperor's command.
Well, I don't have to stay. They might make me do something on another day, but that day ain't here.
I could go. All I have to do is... do it.
And then what? Everyone on the planet and some off-world knew my face.
Alen's face changer could work if I had it with me.
Maybe my brothers have an idea? I pulled out my phone and stepped further down into a quieter hallway.
A few quick taps later, the video call connected.
Country music blared off-screen, and three faces were lit by orange-red neon beer signs.
"Tommy!" screamed Wyatt. My younger brother grinned and leaned in, hoping to get a look at the gathering. "Dude? Why are you in a hallway? How's the alien party? Fancy enough for a big Hollywood singer?"
Joel leaned in with an obvious frown behind his beard. "Let me guess. A bunch of alien snobs looking down their noses at everyone?"
The words hit closer than I wanted to admit. "They're not all like that," I said quickly. "Alen's always been nice to me."
"Oh, come on," Joel scoffed and swallowed beer as he thought. "You're telling me they're not treating us like we're second-class? Bet they think we're cavemen who don't know which fork to use. You could have said no."
I leaned against the wall. "You're one to talk," I said. "You're in a bar!"
Chase overheard as he looked at his older brother, but he stayed quiet.
"That's different," said Joel. "Besides, you didn't say anything at your place."
"Because he was at the house," I said.
"You think he's going to stay home while you're at a shindig?" Joel's voice rose. "He's been telling everyone you're his kid and you got your choice of men." His cheeks puffed out. "Glad he's not trying that back home."
"It wasn't that bad," I said.
Joel's head tilted. "Then why did you leave?"
"Because I wanted to play guitar."
"And you went to LA, instead of Nashville."
Chase leaned further into the frame, playing peacemaker. "Alright, everyone. Tommy? You okay? You look—"
"Tired," I said quickly. "I'm thinking about leaving."
Wyatt raised an eyebrow. "Can you? Won't the alien bigwigs or that general dude get mad or something?"
"I don't care," I replied, "I'm not staying here to be used as some kind of PR prop."
"Good," Joel said firmly, lifting his beer mug toward me. "Come hang with us, instead of letting them parade you around like you're a prize cow or something. We'll buy you and only you a drink."
The angle shifted as my dad appeared behind them, his voice already slurred.
"Hey! Y'all talking to Tommy? Lemme talk to him.
Come on! There's my boy!" he boomed, his grinning face filling the screen.
"How's it feel to be the center of the freakin' universe, huh?
Bet those aliens are lining up to take you home. "
My eyes watered, and suddenly I was a teenager again. I'd heard, read, and seen horror stories about other families, but Dad and my brothers never said a word. Sure, there was teasing, but the same kind my brothers got when they liked a girl. Never cruelty or rejection.
This whole intergalactic thing was an opportunity for him to say, 'Tommy, this is too much. No son of mine's going to let himself get knocked up!' But he didn't. He's just proud.
"Tell you what," Dad's voice dropped conspiratorially. "A night for you and me. I've seen your brothers enough, and I wanna see my second youngest boy rubbing elbows with royalty."
"Wait, what?" A breath-stealing alarm shot through me. "Dad, don't!"
The call cut off, leaving me staring at the blank screen.