Zenith, p.2
Zenith, page 2
Or maybe she should just go right to the source…
Of course someone like him wasn’t constrained by local standards of nudity. And she’d already told him she was an aspiring intergalactic bride, so he wouldn’t suppose she’d be surprised at his cosmicpolitan nonchalance.
Also, she was warmer now and, more importantly, inside.
Propelling her through the musty gloom within, he settled her in a large, brightly patterned seat with wide arms. “Wait here.”
Still averting her gaze—mostly!—she nodded. Oh, she did take once quick glance at his retreating form—for self-preservation reasons!—as she huddled into the chair. With silent footsteps, he disappeared behind a long rack of shelves, but a clatter told her he hadn’t gone far.
The image of his tautly muscled backside lingered in her mind. When she’d made the desperate decision to find him, she’d been imagining rather more armor and weaponry and less bare skin…
But what was that local saying that beggars couldn’t choose the teeth in their domesticated herbivores of burden? Or something like that.
Her heart kept skittering. She’d never been a beggar before, and she’d never needed someone else’s teeth more. Somehow she had to convince him to let her stay.
She glanced curiously around the place where he’d left her. From where she sat, the metallic lettering on the transparent front entry was reversed, but she painstakingly deciphered the words as “Evens’ Odds and Ends Shop.” As welcome centers went, this one left quite a lot to be desired. Hopefully the IDA outpost was more enticing and conducive to romantic unions. There was potential here, in the cheerful jumble of conflicting colors and textures and styles. She pursed her lips. And maybe that was an accurate reflection of any attempt to arrange matching wants and needs across an intergalactic clientele.
When her protector reappeared, he was dressed in an eclectic array of clothing items that he must’ve scrounged from the other side of the shelves. The wide lapels on the snugly fitted shirt framed a deep V neckline that revealed a disturbing—not to mention probably chilly—amount of his lightly furred chest. The shirt’s hues of deep brown, bright orange, and teal should’ve been garish but instead brought out the gold barring in his hair and the silver highlights in his eyes. Dark blue pants with the cuffs rolled but still scuffing the floor covered his lower half.
She squelched a tiny sigh of disappointment.
He stopped in front of her and held out a bottle. “Water,” he said. “Drink and tell me who you are and why you’re here.”
Murmuring her thanks, she sipped at the beverage. The bubbles and minerals seemed to wash through her veins, flushing away some of her worries. If only her explanation would flow as easily.
She took another drink to delay, then let out a slow breath. “My name is Callie, and I already told you, I’m here to join the Intergalactic Dating Agency.”
His gaze sharpened. “How did you find out about it?”
“Don’t they want clients?” She frowned at him. “A grand reopening won’t mean much if there’s no one to take part.” When he just eyed her without responding, she took another long drink, draining the bottle. “Some old acquaintances of mine mentioned the IDA”—actually they’d mocked her, taunting her that it was her last option—“so here I am.” Because there was nowhere else for her to go.
She hadn’t realized how tightly she was clutching the brittle container until he reached out to disentangle her fingers. He set it aside and produced a small med kit from his back pocket.
Without speaking, he cleaned her bloodied knuckles, ignoring her hiss of pain, and applied a healing ointment. Raising her hand to his mouth, he blew across the thick gel until it molded to the bumps and valleys of her hand and sealed tight.
Another little shiver went down her spine. But this time it wasn’t cold…
Not releasing her hand, he raised his gaze to hers. “I don’t believe you,” he murmured.
She huffed out an offended breath. “I’m telling you the truth!” Part of it, anyway. She forced herself to gaze into his eyes. “I’m here for an alien mate.”
She didn’t have to mention that the alien mate…was him.
Chapter 2
Zenith didn’t blink as he studied the would-be intruder.
Although technically she wasn’t a successful intruder, her knuckles proved she’d had intent. After Evens’ abduction and the sabotage attempted against the IDA, he wasn’t inclined to give anyone the benefit of the doubt.
And she wasn’t telling him everything. He already knew that based on the enormous, panicked size of the pupils in her luminous brown eyes.
“Your heart is beating too fast,” he murmured.
“It’s not my fault.” Bright color flared across her cheeks. “I…I keep thinking of you naked.”
That did make him blink. He hadn’t hesitated to cover her when she swooned, not thinking she’d even notice his nudity, sweet and gentle lady that she’d claimed to be. “You were freezing.”
“I was, but I’m not dead.”
Ah, that certain proud attitude was back.
His beast perked at her liveliness. It was a predator through and through, and every time she snapped at him, it wanted to pounce again. Though she was taller and heavier than him, there was a softness to her brown eyes and her sun-lit tawny skin that betrayed a tenderness she couldn’t hide.
His beast loved tender things.
Not that she had any chance of hiding from his beast even if she’d been tough. It had locked her scent into its memory: beneath the icy rain and blood was something more subtle. It would be able to follow her anywhere now.
In the face of his silence, she lifted her chin. “You never…never told me your name.”
Despite her obvious lack of defenses, the way she focused on him, leaning forward slightly with her breath held and gaze intent, matched his beast for intensity—and told him she genuinely wanted to know, although he wasn’t sure why.
Her attention made the beast want to ruffle and preen—which he wouldn’t because he was working. But neither could he see a reason to withhold information, so he said, “Zenith,” and since the additional insight might jar loose some of her information, he added, “I serve as Mr. Evens’ bodyguard.”
He would not bother mentioning that Evens had, from the start, repeatedly and vociferously denied the need for protection. Even after he’d been thumped on the head and half frozen in preparation for who knew what fate, the shopkeeper rejected the suggestion that he keep a closer watch. Zenith wasn’t sure what was the point of having a security detail that wasn’t allowed to secure anything, but he could understand Evens’ reluctance to curtail his freedom even at the risk of his safety.
Zenith let the implicit threat that he would not allow anyone to damage Evens or the IDA hang in the air, but it didn’t seem to faze this would-be intruder. She just nodded, as if that was what she’d wanted to hear. “He is lucky to have you watching out for him,” she said in a voice so soft it reminded him of his kitty. “Not everyone gets that.”
“He pays for it,” Zenith said brusquely. The wistfulness in her tone bothered him, and honesty compelled him to add, “Although he would likely tell you that he relies more on the power of love.”
She leaned forward a little farther, enough that he thought she might she pitch right out of the chair. “The power of love? How much does that cost?”
He lifted his eyebrows. He never thought of it like that. Of course the IDA would have a fee for its clientele, and based on some conversations he’d overheard from Evens, he’d gotten the impression that perhaps there would be extra charges for special considerations, the exact nature of which had never been quite specified. But he’d never thought of the matchmating as a transaction subject to the exchange of credits, whether galactically recognized or the local tender. “I told you, the final parameters of the IDA service haven’t been released yet.”
She straightened with a faint disgruntled noise. “You say the grand reopening is happening soon. If so, time is running out.”
So he’d heard from the others. But unlike them, the outcome to him seemed irrelevant. Once the mission was complete, they would be free. And that was all he’d ever wanted.
Though the chair was awkwardly designed and ugly besides, she sat in it with a balanced elegance that made it seem more like a throne than it deserved to be. But judging from her dirty skirt and the smear of blood still on her palms, and a pinched look around her that suggested she’d gone without more than hydration for a while, it was clear her poise and alleged pretty hair under that baggy hat had not protected her from whatever brought her to Sunset Falls in the middle of the night. “Time is running out for you to answer my questions. Where are you from, and how did you get here?”
She stared back at him. “Does it matter to where I’m going? I’ve come to find a future, not linger in the past.” She lifted her chin with a challenging stare. “And if the Intergalactic Dating Agency doesn’t understand that, no wonder it’s not getting off the ground.”
There was that attitude she’d mentioned. “I am not the IDA,” he reminded her.
Her chin wavered, and for a moment he thought she would cry again. “Then why are you here?”
Though he owed her no answers, she’d done nothing—yet—to warrant him causing her more tears. Besides, throwing out a hook might drag forth a few more answers. “Because this is where I find myself, maybe not forever, but for now.”
With a sniff he guessed might be restraining a sob, she stuck out her lower lip. “That doesn’t sound like love.”
“It’s not,” he said. “I’m here for a mission, not for a mate.”
So why did his attention catch on the plumped flesh of that jutted lip?
Ignoring the beast rumbling restlessly within him, he took a step back. “Since your wound has been seen to and you’ve had your drink, you may return tomorrow to make an appointment with Mr. Evens.” And now that he’d sealed the tiny tracker into her bandage, he’d be able to keep an eye on her in the meantime. He might not need her answers, but he would ensure she was not a danger.
She gripped the arms of the chair hard enough that he might’ve worried the tracker would pop out of the sealant over her knuckles if he hadn’t assured himself it was well embedded.
“I could just wait here,” she suggested, a note of desperation in her voice. “So you needn’t waste time summoning me. It’s no bother.”
Although his beast usually only cared about physical games, it liked how she twisted words and intent, as if she were swooping through a sky of nonsense, to make it seem like she was doing him a favor. The beast wanted to hunt her through those evasive tactics, to pin her down to whatever circumstances and objectives she sought to hide.
Ah, mostly it just wanted to pin her down.
He took another step back. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Only because the planet is spun in the wrong direction.”
He gave her a wry look. “Your eye for detail is impressive.”
Her lower lip trembled and she sucked it between her teeth, as if she didn’t mind showing a touch of haughtiness but vulnerability was not allowed. Her voice was almost lost in the scuff of her boots on the worn floor. “I…don’t have anywhere else to go…tonight.” She flashed a sideways look at him, and he thought he was supposed to believe this lacking was a mere temporary inconvenience. “I’ll be no trouble while I wait for Mr. Evens.”
She was already trouble. Zenith let out a slow breath through his nose as another shuffle from the other end of the room reached him.
“What trouble is this?” Evens braced his cane as he stepped out of the back office.
Zenith rolled forward to the balls of his feet. If Callie had come with nefarious purpose, she might take this chance to attack since the shopkeeper was obviously weakened.
But she only rose, somewhat shakily, to her feet, with an even shakier inhalation.
“Sorry for disturbing you, sir,” Zenith said. “I was told you’d finished for the night.”
Evens rolled the head of the cane in the center of his palm. “With my to-do list, I decided to just take a break in my office rather than going home.” He smiled at Callie. “And what kind of trouble won’t you be, my dear?”
Her return smile wasn’t so much shaky as structurally unstable. “Actually, I think I might be able to help you,” she said in a tone striving for confidence. “Your grand reopening seems a bit behind schedule, and I’m here to help you with that.”
Zenith tucked his chin. Even his lively beast was struggling to keep up with the abrupt zigzags in her claim. He would have to reevaluate the threat level she represented. “When you come back during business hours, you may—”
Evens held up his free hand, silencing the suggestion. Taking his time, the other male settled himself carefully on the stool behind the counter on the other side from the front door where Zenith had placed Callie. With a resigned sigh, Zenith took a place a middle distance between them.
“So.” Even resettled himself with a slight grimace. “You’re here for a matchmating.”
Callie slanted a quick glance at Zenith, her eyes narrowing slightly. Why was she looking at him? He narrowed his eyes back at her.
She returned her attention to Evens. “That was my first plan, yes. But I’ve been informed that you aren’t quite ready for your reopening. And I need…ah, a distraction in the meantime, so if I’m not yet to find a mate, perhaps I can help your launch.”
Evens tapped his cane softly on the floor. “I hadn’t really considered promotion and planning,” he mused. “I rather thought that the people who most needed this service would just somehow find their way.” He gazed upward as if contemplating the night sky through the roof and intervening cloud cover. “I suppose it is a rather large and confusing universe, and I shouldn’t leave these things up to chance.” Though none of the shop’s lamps or sconces or chandeliers were positioned above him, when he returned his gaze to Callie, a glint of light flashed in his eyes. “If it’s just by chance you are here, then certainly I should take advantage of it.” He smiled again. “So, what would you suggest?”
Zenith added quickly, “And what are your qualifications?”
She nibbled at her lower lip. “Well, I’ve been at the head of the table in facilitating complex negotiations among multiple competing interests. Oh, and quite relevant to the demands of a matchmaking service, I was instrumental in a nuptial ceremony catering to several thousand on-site and remote guests with distinct and sometimes opposing traditions. The event was a sensation, and everyone was talking about it.”
Evens tilted his head. “That sounds very much like something the IDA could use.”
Zenith grunted. “We very much do not want everyone talking about the IDA.”
Callie wrinkled her nose. “Only the right people, of course.”
And who might that might be, exactly? Certainly not him, her certain nose-wrinkling attitude seemed to say.
As soon as she’d mentioned the IDA, he’d scanned her. But she carried no datpad or other devices, and if she’d had an implanted ident, it was set in privacy mode or had been removed. She did have a universal translator, but since she already knew about the IDA and intended to find a match through it, she might’ve gotten the translator as part of her preparation. He was not authorized to pursue answers from her more forcefully, and he would not impose on her free will, not when he’d hated the same being withheld from him.
Now, if he could convince her to give up her stubborn secrets…
She and Evens were animatedly discussing the reopening celebration, volleying suggestions and more elaborate countersuggestions and song playlists at such speed that Zenith’s beast got dizzy and retreated. He wished he could do the same, but if Callie suddenly turned out to be an assassin sent by the IDA’s adversaries, he would be very embarrassed.
Still, there were only so many cake and cocktail combos a shapeshifting extraterrestrial bodyguard could hear about before he had to end the night. He cleared his throat. “It’s late. Cross will need to run a background check before adding anyone to the outpost security system.” He gave Callie a hard look.
She blinked back at him, as if he’d awakened her from some lovely fantasy she’d been having about dancing and decorations. His beast was intrigued; it wondered how those soft brown eyes would look at him if he roused her after some other fantastical night…
Evens glanced between them. “Indeed. Let’s get that done.”
She straightened. A tentative smile played around her lips. “You…you’ll let me stay?”
“Did I hear you had nowhere else to go tonight?” With a beatific gesture upward, Evens rose from the stool. “There is no one staying in the shop apartment right now. Until you can get settled at the outpost, you’ll be fine here.”
Her smile wavered, and the sheen of tears returned. “Thank you. I can’t tell you…”
Evens waved her off, and Zenith resisted the urge to grumble. It would’ve made his job easier if she would tell.
Instead, he found himself tasked, at Evens’ orders, with ushering her out the door into the cold night and to the back steps around the corner up to the apartment above. What was the point of security when they welcomed intruders?
But it was not his call.
At the door, he held his datpad to the latch and waited for the click. Before he went in, he turned to glare at Callie.
Since she’d waited three steps down from the small landing, her brown eyes were level with his. While his gryfon’s ferocity meant he’d never been troubled by being smaller than most other beasts, for once he was glad to have the artificial boost that put him above her.
“You aren’t telling us everything,” he said quietly. “And though your trouble is your own, where it intersects with mine, I have to ask.”
She clutched his cloak tight around her. But they hadn’t been standing outside long enough for the chill to really penetrate; it was something inside her that made her stiffen.
