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I gaze at him, wondering how he can look so intensely handsome and be so much of a stranger at the same time. This proud man who held me so tenderly also killed two people in cold blood. He’s lied to me at every turn. I can’t forget that, no matter how much I want to go up to him and kiss his frown away.
So I leave the room, retreating to the bedchamber. I close the door behind me, and in the bathroom, I don’t get into the shower. The shower feels…intimate. It feels like “our” space together and right now, I can’t do that. I climb into the pool-like bathtub instead, and sink into the hot water up to my neck.
And I think.
51
KIM
By the time I get out of the tub, I feel better. More centered. I’ve had time to think through my feelings. My initial knee-jerk reaction to hearing that Nassakth murdered two people was wrong. Okay, maybe “murdered” isn’t the right word. He took care of a problem I didn’t know I had. He’s been protecting me, even when I thought I had the situation under control. I can’t fault him for killing a slaver. I certainly can’t fault him for killing two of them, especially when one was his master.
Of course he killed his master. From what it sounded like, the guy was cruel and planning on killing Nassakth. He robbed him of a life, for all that Nassakth went willingly into slavery. He wasn’t going to let Nassakth win his freedom or pay him a portion of his earnings. Instead, I remember what he told me—that he had one plant given to him and he worked so very hard to keep it alive. I think of how much that plant meant to him. I think of this house, filled with greenery, and the care Nassakth takes with them. I think of how careful his big hands are.
I think of how careful he is with me.
He’s a good man. He’s had a hard life, and because of that life, he makes choices I wouldn’t. I can’t blame him for those…but it does make it harder to blindly trust him.
Still, we need to talk. I’ve retreated and licked my wounds for long enough, and now I need to have a reasonable conversation with Nassakth so we can get on the same page.
I comb my hair out and dress in fresh clothing, then leave the bedroom. The house is silent and empty, and even the war room is quiet. I half-expected to see him there, or working out, lifting those massive circular weights that are so heavy I can’t even move them. He often works out when he’s in a mood, but he’s not there, either. I go to the front and check for the air-sled that’s always parked to the side of the house. It’s in place, but there’s a delicate bike-shaped speeder next to it. Who…?
Then, a tall, lean figure of blue and black emerges from the fields, something wrapped up in her arms. It’s Bethiah.
Oh. And that must be what’s left of my suitor.
I swallow hard, my stomach lurching. Hearing that someone’s dead is one thing. Seeing someone carry a piece of that dead someone out of your backyard is a very different experience.
As the mesakkah bounty hunter hops onto the bike, I see Nassakth emerge from the fields. He looks…defeated. His proud shoulders are slumped and his tail has no life to it. Immediately, I know that’s my fault. I’ve crushed his spirit, and I feel like the world’s biggest jerk.
And yet…aren’t my reactions reasonable, too? No matter how long I’m out here, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how casual these people are about killing. It’s very wild west on Risda, and I’m still thinking like a small-town woman, where those sorts of situations just don’t happen.
Yet here we are.
I open the front door as Nassakth approaches. He’s filthy, his lower arms covered in grime. I realize after a few moments that he’s also extremely naked. His towel from our earlier shower is gone, and he’s been out in the field with that woman…in the nude.
A hot flare of jealousy rushes through me. I know Nassakth would never touch Bethiah, but…I don’t like that she was looking at what’s mine. Admiring what’s mine.
Knowing Bethiah, she probably made sure to get an eyeful, too. The thought makes me grit my teeth.
Nassakth looks up in surprise as I step onto the porch to greet him. The look in his eyes is careful, as if he doesn’t want to risk too much. “It is done,” he tells me. “Bethiah will deliver the package to the other bounty hunter and he will not trouble us again.”
“I see.” I gesture at the door. “Come inside. You should wash up.”
