Zenith, p.3
Zenith, page 3
“Mr. Evens believes I can do an important job for him, same as you,” she said. “Can’t we just be…colleagues? I will be a good partner, I promise.”
He considered the various synonyms her translator might’ve sifted through to convey her meaning. “I’ve lived with and worked beside and put my life in the hands of my teammates for a long time now. I’ve fought beside them, through everything, because we know each other, trust each other. Even when our own command ruled against us, I followed them, because I believed. I don’t have that with you.”
She swallowed. “Not yet, maybe.” There was a strange undertone to her voice that caught the beast’s attention, a crackle like she was about to reveal something else… But then she ducked her head against the drizzle, and he could not justify keeping her out any longer, not when she was obviously determined to resist and Evens had already decided to keep her.
But he would try one last time. “Tell me you are not here to kill Evens or sabotage the IDA.”
Her gaze jerked up to him quickly and her recoil convinced him that the “No!” that burst from her was genuine. With a sputter, she added, “How could you even think that?”
“Because that’s why I’m here.”
This time her look was a little steadier. “The opposite of love. Not hate, which at least feels something, but detachment and doubt.”
He thought for a moment. “I suppose that’s why Mr. Evens is giving you a chance. To convince people that a matchmating service will give them what they think they need.”
She gazed up at him, the sealant over her bruised knuckles shining like a patch of ice where she clutched his cloak closed at her neck. “And what do you need? Since you obviously don’t think a matchmating can give it to you.”
“I have what I want,” he said. “A place to sleep, the night sky…” He reflected uneasily that his list was shorter than the one she’d given him, and the weight of her focus felt a little too perceptive. “An open tab at the coffee shop down the street with all the pastries I can eat,” he finished firmly. “Which is where you may also get your meals, although Evens has asked us to stock these rooms as well for visitors.” He gestured her inside. “You’ll find all the basics here. If you need something more, just ask.” Whatever her more was might give him a clue into what she wasn’t telling him.
He stood back to watch as she glanced around the room. As she walked deeper in, her expressions flickered through uncertainty, a touch of reluctance, and a weary resignation that seemed more genuine to him than her hasty and decidedly vague job qualifications.
“I don’t mean to be any trouble.” She pivoted on her heel to face him in the middle of the room. Her eyes shimmered again. “Truly, I never meant to be any trouble.”
Once again, he heard the sincerity in her voice even as she told him so little. But he had the tracker on her, and his beast had her scent now. He wouldn’t let her go until he knew what she wanted with the Intergalactic Dating Agency.
And with him.
Chapter 3
She slept until her closed eyelids couldn’t keep out the daylight.
As she slowly drifted awake, she didn’t move, her breath still slow. But all was undisturbed around her. She was alone, and for once that feeling didn’t frighten her more than what she’d left behind.
Stretching under the thick quilted blankets that had molded around her in the night—had she not moved at all?—she listened to the hum of vehicles on the road beyond the window over her head, the occasional voice calling out indistinctly. As promised, she’d found most what she needed in the small rooms: food, drink, clothes, personal care items, all of it untouched.
A promise. Untouched. “Zenith.”
Her whisper didn’t carry beyond the pillow. She hadn’t even known his name before, yet she’d come so far to find him. But he hadn’t recognized her, didn’t remember her. Had she changed so much from before, when she’d been a prize worth fighting for?
He didn’t seem interested in finding out anything more about her. As long as she didn’t assassinate anyone, anyway.
She flopped onto her side and thumped her fist into the pillow, then winced as her knuckles twanged a reminder. Maybe punching the lock had made him think she was dangerous. Well, good. She could be dangerous, if she wanted.
Even though she’d told him she hadn’t meant to be a problem.
And where had that gotten her?
This is where I find myself.
So he had said, and she was here because of him. But if he wouldn’t take her—
At least she had someone who wanted her. Mr. Evens thought she had a purpose, and all the beings who matched through the IDA could find what they needed, if she brought them here too. She would do this—
A brisk knock at the exterior door in the other room snapped her upright, and an unkind combination of apprehension and the chilly air snatched her breath away. She wanted to dive back under the quilt.
Clutching the blanket almost double around her, she padded warily through the living room to the door. “Who is it?”
“Zenith.”
The lost breath returned to her on a tiny gasp. He’d come back…
She opened the door, although she knew he had the access code. “Good morning.”
“You’re late.”
She blinked. “To what?”
“Your new position in the IDA.” His silver-gold gaze flickered over her. “You can’t wear that to the outpost.”
Even through the thick batting compressed between sturdy layers of well-stitched fabric, her skin prickled at his attention. She wanted to rub herself on something scratchy to soothe the itch—or maybe exacerbate it? A memory of his lightly furred chest flashed across her mind’s eye…
She gave herself a little shake. “I didn’t know we were going there now.”
“It’s morning. And as you told Evens, the IDA is already behind. But if you’d rather not—”
“No! I mean, yes. I’m ready to go. Or I will be.” She hustled backward. “Just…wait for me.”
He stepped into the tiled entry and closed the door behind him, cutting off the wind. “It’s cold out, and the outpost construction isn’t complete. Cover yourself well.” His attention flicked briefly to her hair—or what was left of it.
The prickle of her nerves sank into a deeper and sharper shame. The ragged tufts were too short to tame down against her skull. She tucked her head down into the cowl of the quilt. “Would you…like something for a morning meal?”
“I ate already.”
Last night, she’d made herself a light repast, afraid to stuff herself after going without for awhile. Now her stomach eagerly reminded her that there was plenty left.
She flushed at the grumbly noise, like her belly was complaining that he hadn’t shared. Outside and in, her body was betraying her, revealing just how badly she’d failed in her life.
Just how much she’d needed to find him.
He looked at her another moment, then pivoted on one heel toward the small kitchen area. “Get dressed. I’ll make something.”
“Be right back,” she promised as she hurried back to the bedroom.
The small bathroom was stocked with toiletries scented with fragrances she didn’t know. Not that she’d cared when she’d scoured herself before getting into bed; it had just felt good to be clean and warm and safe. Now she was going out into that big, cold world again when she just wanted to hide here.
Except she’d stayed tucked away before—in a place much larger and grander than this—and how had that worked out for her?
It hadn’t, which was why she had to go to work now.
At least she had Zenith. Not that he realized it yet. But this was her chance to win him over and make him notice her, to make him stay.
She found one of the lotions with a light, sweet perfume and dabbed it in a few key locations. Maybe she should stroll out to him as he’d first met her, fling her quilt around him as he’d cloaked her… The anxious prickles zoomed around her skin and down between her legs like many tiny teeth nibbling, but she wasn’t sure if she liked it or if it was going to hurt.
Maybe she’d wait a bit on the blanket flinging.
The clothes she’d arrived in had been on her body for too long and encountered too many visibly staining substances, so she rifled through the bedroom closet. A small wooden sign had been hung on the doorknob that said in fancifully curled letters “clean” while a basket beside read “laundry”. She didn’t yet have a solid grasp on local fashion so she chose as well as she could and made a note to herself to keep an eye out. Most of the items seemed too snug on her body, but she wasn’t going to complain. She’d proclaimed herself an expert on intergalactic parties, so now she had to make a mark for herself here.
Oh, how she wanted to dive back under the quilt.
Instead, she gave herself one last look in the still-fogged bathroom mirror and tried one more time to smooth down the remaining bristles of her black hair. Once, she’d been the center of the party…
With a sigh, she pulled back her shoulders and marched out of the room.
Yes, maybe she looked one last time at the bed too but only to rethink whether she might tempt Zenith that way. Another sigh, less bracing and more wistful this time.
When she inhaled to replace the atmospheric mix she’d forced out, a delicious smell reached her, quickening her steps.
From his stance at the cooking range, Zenith glanced over his shoulder. “I should’ve asked if you have any dietary restriction.”
She shook her head. “I’ve had all the standard inoculations against any unanticipated reactions to unique encounters. And I enjoy sampling new cuisines.”
From the tightness of his lips, he’d clearly been hoping that she might reveal something about her food requirements and preferences that would give him some clue to her background. While she hadn’t intended to lie to him or withhold information, if he couldn’t remember her, why did he deserve to just be told her deepest secrets?
Another twinge of uncertainty cramped her belly. While she was thankful he wasn’t forcing any answers from her, if she’d made no impression on him before, when she’d been at the questionable peak of her power, what made her think he was interested in anything about her now? Besides not accidentally poisoning his employer’s new recruit, of course.
“What are you making?” She settled on one of the high seats at the kitchen counter.
“This is called a breakfast burrito.” He plated a hand-length cylinder of some soft, pale carbohydrate marked with toasted areas. “There are many different versions, but the basics are a hearty filling wrapped in a neat container.”
She flicked a glance at him. “Like you in your cloak?”
Was that the barest twitch at the corner of his mouth? “Like you in your quilt,” he confirmed.
Deciding to assume that twitch was a restrained smile, she grinned back. She reached for the corner of the wrap to unroll it but he stopped her with a touch of one fingertip over her bandaged knuckles.
“You just bite in,” he told her.
Tiny zings spread through her body from the contact of his finger, invisible yet powerful and everywhere like EM waves traveling through spacetime.
Her breath caught. “But how do I know what’s inside?”
“You don’t. It’s a surprise.”
Despite the distracting, tantalizing zings, she wrinkled her nose. She’d had enough surprises lately; she’d come here for a sure thing. She hadn’t quite realized there was a price to pay for that.
He was still watching her. “You said you like to try new things.”
“I do!” After a heartbeat of hesitation, she admitted, “Or…I used to? Maybe…maybe not so much anymore.” She realized she was about to say too much so she grabbed the burrito. “But I can remember.”
She took a giant bite. The savory warmth filled her senses, and she hummed. “Much better than the cold cereal I had last night,” she mumbled.
He half closed his eyes. “So you like hot?”
She nodded. “And sweet. My favorite sweets are…” Oh no, she’d been about to reveal something about her past. He was so sneaky. “They are hot too,” she finished weakly.
When she cut herself off, he nudged a small, thin bottle of red sauce. “Try this.” When she uncapped it, he cautioned, “Just a little bit.”
She followed his advice—and then added another dollop to show him that she knew he’d tried to trick her. She took a bigger bite.
Her eyes watered worse than when she’d been locked outside his door last night, but this time in a good way. Zenith made a strangled sound under his breath as she eagerly slathered on more hot sauce, but she ignored him as she gulped down the rest of the burrito. While she ate, he boiled water in a large decorative pot. “Coffee or tea?”
Which would give him fewer clues about her? “Coffee?”
With an approving nod as if it had indeed been a test and she’d made the right choice, he poured the boiling water over fragrant ground nuggets. “Do you have a better coat than what you arrived in?”
She gestured across the room. “There’s one on the back of the door. It’s a little small, I think, but it will do.”
His gaze tracked over her, assessing, and the borrowed too-tight clothing suddenly felt even more constricting. “Add a sweater so you’ll have all the layers you need for the construction site and working at the outpost.”
She tugged at her collar. “No one will mind that I took their things?”
“This place and these things are for whoever needs them.” He pressed the plunger down on the coffee device, expelling a wonderful aroma.
“A quiet, safe place, a place to figure out what they want, a chance to try on something new,” she murmured, watching his deft movements. “What price for that?”
When she glanced up into his sharp, metallic gaze, she realized once again she’d given away more than she intended.
He poured the coffee into two tall mugs and handed one to her with a solemn air. “This is your to-go cup,” he informed her. “If you take it to the beverage dispensary down the street called the Twinkle, they will refill it for you as needed.” A twitch at the corner of his mouth again. “Or as Mr. Evens pays his tab.”
She took the mug from him with murmured thanks, and as they headed out the door, she grabbed his cloak along the way. “Thank you for this too.”
“Keep it,” he said. “In case you need another layer of protection.”
Probably he just meant from the cold—because it was chilly as they stepped outside, frost thick on stairs despite the bright sunlight—but she was going to pretend that maybe he meant something a little more, even if he didn’t know she’d decided it meant something more. It would take the edge off her nerves at heading to the outpost. For the first time in her life, she would be making her own way by her own choice.
She hesitated on the upper landing, her stomach churning. Maybe she shouldn’t have had so much hot sauce.
“Watch your step.” Zenith cupped her elbow. He was compact enough to stay beside her on the narrow stairs. The line between guarding and imprisoning hadn’t always been clear to her, but his touch guiding her out into the world seemed like the right side.
He led the way to a ground vehicle. Following his motions, she belted herself in and tucked her mug into the holding receptacle while he guided them through the streets.
She glanced around curiously. She hadn’t had a chance to observe on the way in, so distracted by her need to find him, but if she was going to make this place her own, there was much to learn.
And yet she found her gaze straying back to him.
“So do you have an endless supply of clothes scattered around these homes and hills for when you change?”
“Change?” He cast a sidelong glance at her. “Change what?”
“Shift into your other shape,” she prodded. “The one where you’re naked.”
Another twitch of his lips. “I am always naked under my clothes.”
“I meant your beast versus when you’re like this.” She flicked a finger at him.
“I don’t change or shift or this versus that,” he said. “I am always me.”
For a long moment, she tried to imagine what that must feel like. To be herself, always? Was that even possible?
Her confusion and doubt must’ve been obvious in her silence as he gave her another look. “Do your clothes change who you are?”
She nodded vigorously. “I had a one-of-a-kind, gem-encrusted sash handwoven from diamond thread that I was supposed to wear…” She swallowed back the rest. “Anyway, that would’ve been very much a better me than the me I am now.” She looked down at her mismatched clothing that was the best she could find from the sizes and styles available in her borrowed room.
He looked her up and down once. “Mr. Evens would suggest that maybe you didn’t come here to find a mate or a job, but to find yourself.”
Like that was so easy to do. As if she’d just accidentally left herself lying around someplace and needed to remember who she was.
She grabbed her coffee and gulped a few angry mouthfuls, even though it was too hot and burned her tongue. “Maybe you can find me,” she muttered. “Since the gryfons from Xymiran beast battalions are known to be the best trackers in the galaxies.”
She meant to shock him with her knowledge of what he was (even if she didn’t really know who she was) since he kept trying to trick her into revealing herself.
But he didn’t so much as flinch or even widen his eyes. “We are,” he agreed. “Nothing gets away from us.” The glitter of metal in his eyes was a warning.
She curled back in her seat, hugging her mug. “Well, your battalion ended up here somehow, so apparently something went awry.”
Oh, now she was really risking revelations. But he was implying that he was such the mighty hunter when he’d left her behind and didn’t even know her!
Again he didn’t react except with a shrug. “I like Earth. It has a little of everything. Although I imagine it seems small, if you’re used to better somewhere else.” He pitched his voice slightly higher in query and slanted a sly glance at her.
