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It wasn’t a hardship to keep her voice husky and sensual; she’d used it often with solid results.
His lips twitched as he stared down at her, his eyes aglimmer. ‘What kind?’
She turned her eyes toward her mark. ‘The kind he needs.’
The sleek guard cocked his head. ‘Fokk, why do y’all women go for the lone drifter types? Pick me, name’s Kione.’
Sana’a gazed up at the striking, fair-haired giant with his chiselled jawline, shaven hair, and a pulsing jewel on his temple.
These Katánians were something else, she conceded; up close, they gave off significant celestial deity energy.
‘Fine, you can have him,’ Kione rumbled, faking his hurt at her lack of attention. He leaned in with a grin, turning him into an even more handsome devil. ‘But I’m just warning you. He’s intense. The man prefers his privacy and loses himself in his rich inner world. If two people are talking, and one looks bored, he’s the other. That said, let’s see if he takes to you.’
Kione took a fluid step to the side, jerking his chin at the long-hared Leviathan.
Her mark stared into the distance, studying the far-off expanse of stars and celestial bodies.
‘Kill, want some company?’
The silver giant moved his head slowly toward them.
When his eyes met hers, they cast over her in a wash of unimpressed aloofness.
He lowered his mountain mist and icy lake gaze, raking it with leisure over Sana’a’s body. ‘What makes her deserving of my intimacy?’
She bristled at his bass rumble.
Arrogant dickprick, she thought with some savagery, angered by his foppishness and equal measure of derision.
Was this the man who’d conspired to bring down a Shotelai King? Was he truly capable of looking beyond his navel-gazing disdain long enough to plan the downfall of an entire race?
Still, she shivered at his deep, reverberating timbre, which was more suited to a grand orator or mystical griot.
His companion caught the fleeting annoyance on her face. ‘Excuse our friend. He’d rather not be here.’
Then why is he?
‘Am I being annoying?’ the silver giant drawled, his tongue still playing with the wad in his mouth. ‘Because, like Kione said, I’d prefer not to be here.’
Sana’a served him with a saccharine, sweet smile. ‘I think you’re a fount of pleasure. I can’t wait to love you, long time.’
He ran his eyes over her once more, lips twitching. ‘I like her. Sassy. Not like the other witless ones. Let her through.’
With a chin jerk, he slid his oversized frame along the couch. He patted the empty spot he left behind as his leonine sentinel allowed her passage. ‘Sit with me. Help me forget my tedious obligations and endless mind spin.’
Keeping a close eye on him, she stepped in and sat beside him.
A sharp, earthy aroma wafted through the air around him, tinged with a hint of mint and a subtle smokiness.
She realised it came from what he was chewing, his jaw moving in a slow, steady rhythm.
He waved a lean, long-fingered hand at the table packed with bottles, glasses and vintages. ‘May I offer you a drink?’ he rasped, lifting a tankard from the surface. ‘Perhaps, this fine brew?’
Sana’a focused on the brand name stamped on the plex glass. ‘That’s Falasian hogswill. It’s piss poor ‘hol. Anyone who drinks it hasn’t gone out much.’
His eyes flared for a second, then returned to their former coolness. ‘Fokkin’ busted. You’ve outed me as a bumbling brute from the back and beyond of Pegasi who knows nothing about refined sophistication.
Despite his crude words, Sana’a picked up the smarts lurking behind his limpid silver eyes.
