Page 69 of Smuggler's Beauty

“Be careful what you wish for. You keep talking like that, and I might never leave.”

He leaned closer to her and smoothed his hand over her blonde waves, settling her hair and completely unraveling her composure in one fluid movement.

“Why don’t you go check that top drawer and see how worried I am about you leaving?” And with that cryptic statement, he kissed the tip of her nose, retrieved her coffee cup, and left the room with a wink. “Refill.”

What the fuck does that even mean?

She finished the apples and peanut butter, refusing to let her curiosity get the better of her. Evelyn had never been the most patient person, but she knew she was going to have to cultivate more of the annoying quality if she was going to figure out how to harness her talent. She wiped her hands on the inside of the robe pockets and headed to the top drawer of the dresser.

It was full of her clothes.

It wasn’t all of her things, but there was a good selection of the bits and pieces she’d worn on the ship more than once. She headed to the closet and opened the sliding panel. There, next to Aiden’s neatly hung clothing, was a selection of her clothes too unwieldy or delicate to chuck in a drawer. Her beloved cardigan was the first thing she spotted. Her most worn shoes were on the floor next to Aiden’s boots.

She sat back on the bed, eyes fixed on the closet.

He’d moved just enough of her things to say “You have a place here if you want it.”

Did she?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

No one Mathias Aritiencountered in the embarkation lobby had a clue his skin was crawling.

Business on 14 And. was good. The place was packed with determined shoppers, bargain hunters, and chain-restaurant enthusiasts. Each brush of a shoulder as he made his way towards the shuttle set a cascade of future possibilities teeming through Mathias’ mind. He took a moment to steel himself against the sheer onslaught before him. His thoughts drifted as he leaned against a stabilization pole on the ride to the docking platform.

When his abilities had first manifested, he had thought he was going crazy. One second, he would be present in a lesson. The next, his vision would fuzz, like that old-timey tube screen static, and he’dsee.

Eventually he learned more control. The visions were more like popups. Annoying, but not overwhelming. He could focus his talent now, seek out specifics. Operators. Outcomes. It wasn’t a guarantee he’d get to view the things he sought, but he could often figure out if a search would be fruitful or not within a few tries of reaching out his mental feelers.

When Corvinia had approached him, so many years ago, it had given him purpose. He’d been a sheltered teenager, hadn’t even begun to consider the possibilities his talent could afford him. He did what anyone else in his position would have: started a betting pool focused on the more popular kids’ dating habits. He made a killing.

But Corvinia had laid out the score. She’d appeared out of nowhere, steel spine in a six thousand credit suit. Told him what was at stake for the planet, for him. And the importance of staying off the radar if he didn’t want to become another tool in the infinite arsenal of Emil Bellica. Scientists disappeared left and right in those days. She could help him hide, and together they could strike down the regime when the time was right.

What teenage boy didn’t want the chance to help save the world?

What teenage boy couldn’t be manipulated into thinking it was his responsibility?

She’d dropped a comment here about his father’s research, a mention of his mother’s funding. Non-issues under different rule, ostracized in Bellica’s Tanalia. He’d been putty in her hands as soon as she figured out the right pressure to apply.

He didn’t even really resent her for doing it. Mathias didn’t think Corvinia could help herself; she’d been playing the game so long. Her mentorship had blown the pants off any of the other options he had been considering before she showed up and turned his world upside down.

The only real regret he had was that he was rapidly approaching thirty-five, and no one else really knew who he was. He barely knew who the fuck he was, and how much of what he had become had only been carved into being to serve in Corvinia’s war.

The shuttle jerked to a stop. Passengers clutched their bags of discount shoes and leftover pasta and shuffled to the doors, eager to return to their ships.

Mathias followed the crowd down the corridor until he stood at the entrance to the docking platform. The code he was carrying burned a hole in his pocket.

His communicator pinged. An encrypted message from Corvinia read:

Arrival time was accurate. Proceed.

He got in line for the transport pods, deliberately keeping his limbs loose and relaxed. He was in no hurry. Just another shopper returning to his ship. He moved the bag he’d brought with him to the other shoulder and pretended to check his time piece.

The line moved swiftly and efficiently. Transportation pods needed to get full wallets into stores to empty them. Turnover was the name of the game.

Mathias entered his pod and punched the code in his pocket into the control panel. The airlock hissed behind him as the entrance sealed, and he buckled the safety restraint, lurching sideways as the pod bustled toward a gleaming ship on the far side of the docking platform.The Glittering Twilightwas stenciled on the side of the shiny silver pleasure cruiser.

Before his stomach had stopped lurching, the pod was connecting with theTwilight. The airlock hissed again, and the pod’s air pressure stabilized to meet the larger ship’s. The entrance slid open. Mathias stepped out onto black and white penny tiles.The Rising Dawnwas painted in bold red letters on the soft yellow wall of the entrance.