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The entire staff was dedicated to making sure things ran smoothly in their absence. While the longer hours and the additional workload that came with the influx of patrons were a pain in the ass, no one complained. Even some of the more fearful and timid Tarin females who usually hid away from crowds had been helping out in the kitchens and during cleanup.
Every table was currently occupied in the Sky Bar, and servers hurried around the room, delivering food and drinks and clearing away empty glasses and plates. There was a definite charge of excitement in the air that had become familiar. The new infertility cure had filled people with hope. That was all people were talking about, though there were plenty who remained cautious and a little uncertain.
For someone like Secret, the cure didn’t mean anything to her personally. Still, she was happy about what it meant for the humans, like the group of friends sitting at the bar in front of her. When she finished pouring their drinks, she set the glasses down in front of them. They thanked her in unison before they each took a sip of the frothy, neon rainbow-layered liquid they had ordered.
She snorted out a laugh and shook her head at the odd-sounding yummy noises the humans made. She would never understand why someone would want to consume something that looked like it could be radioactive, but that particular drink seemed to be popular amongst the patrons of the Sky Bar.
Humans really were fascinating creatures.
While Secret thought they were strange most of the time, she appreciated their complex minds and the way they connected with one another. She also enjoyed their flair for creativity and innovation. Humans had invented a variety of wonderful concepts over the years. Some of those things had vastly improved their quality of life, while others had brought them to the edge of destruction.
While most of the races had similar attributes and physical characteristics, humans were distinguished by their diversity. Secret liked their physical differences, especially their varying body types, shades of their skin, and the color of their eyes and hair. She often wondered if they appreciated their marks of uniqueness, but figured people often disregarded what was common to them.
The four friends sitting in front of her on the other side of the bar were a perfect example of what made humans so interesting. All of them were beautiful, yet they looked vastly different. One had her brown hair pulled back in a thick braid, while the petite woman sitting next to her had long, loose curls that fell down to the middle of her back in a vibrant shade of red.
The third female had blonde hair done in short, stylish spikes, allowing for all to see the star tattooed next to her right eye. The last female had her sleek black hair cut to just above her shoulders and there wasn’t a single blemish on her beautiful dark skin except for the scroll tattoo near her right eye and her bonded mark near her left eye.
The scroll mark designated her as one of the rare fertile females the Alliance had enhanced as one of their elite soldiers, while the star mark near the blonde’s right eye declared her as infertile. Unlike their friends, the redhead and brunette bore no identifying marks, but Secret knew from listening to them that the redhead was a citizen, while the brunette was definitely a rebel.
With the infertility cure, those marks would no longer be necessary.
The four friends had always been regulars at Exodus, but they seemed to prefer the Sky Bar now. They usually sat in Secret’s section when she was on duty, and while she didn’t interact with them much, she had learned a great deal about humans by listening to their conversations. She enjoyed their playful banter, heated arguments, and candid opinions. The four of them had grown up together, and while life might have taken them down different paths, their friendship had remained steadfast and true.
Secret respected that type of loyalty.
It was rare in any world, but she thought their devotion to one another was even more commendable considering their differences in status. From what she had observed from other patrons that frequented the bar, friendships that crossed boundaries were difficult to maintain. That didn’t seem to matter to them, though.
Individuality wasn’t something other races usually prized, especially the D’Aire. Truthfully, she had never been too concerned with fitting in, but it was impossible to ignore her own imperfections when she was constantly reminded of them. Her silvery white hair and iridescent blue eyes designated her as a member of her race, but the scars on her face, neck, and arms were enough to make her stand out.
And those were nothing compared to the marks on the rest of her body.
The looks of sympathy her scarred visage garnered from strangers annoyed her, but she had learned to ignore them. She didn’t want or need anyone’s pity. Even the glances of disgust and revulsion were easy to overlook. Honestly, she thought the way the other members of her own race went out of their way to avoid her was more disrespectful than anything else. They acted as if her defects were contagious, or they could somehow be tainted by association.
Like the D’Aire currently sitting on the opposite side of the room. When the two D’Aire females had entered the bar with a few of their human friends, they had visibly flinched once they’d gotten a look at Secret. After their group had been seated, they had done their best to pretend that she didn’t exist.
It wasn’t the first time that had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last.
She tolerated their behavior since it was simply rude and not an actual issue that had to be dealt with. But if they weren’t careful, someone was bound to push her too far. If that ever happened, they would find out she wasn’t the typical passive D’Aire female they were used to dealing with. A lot of the female D’Aire excelled at fighting, but Secret was more than just a warrior.
She was a trained killer.
Over the years, she had honed both her body and mind into a lethal weapon with one purpose…vengeance.That wasn’t exactly something she’d ever announce publicly, though. Her past and her future weren’t subjects up for discussion. Her life story was her own, and that was a secret she didn’t want to share with anyone at the sanctuary.
She was sure a few of the residents at Exodus could sense she was dangerous, but that wasn’t surprising. Even though Secret was the sole D’Aire residing at Exodus, she wasn’t the only one with a dark side. Most of the staff members carried a similar lethal aura, although they were more likely to punch someone in the face than gut them with a blade.
Secret admitted she had a particular fondness for sharps, as was evident by the twin curved blades she had hidden away in her boots. She also had a set of smaller knives tucked inside the leather forearm sleeves that were attached to the black fingerless gloves she wore. Weapons were generally frowned upon at the sanctuary, but she never went anywhere without her blades, so she simply kept them concealed.
Killing wasn’t something she was proud of, but she wasn’t ashamed of it either. Her years of being a captive on Tartarus had given her a different perspective on life. She had been forced to kill out of necessity in order to survive. It was kill or be killed, but she still lived by a strict moral code.
Having the chance to rest and recover at Exodus had been a blessing. It was a refuge that provided more than just a safe space. Meeting the people who lived and worked there had also been an unexpected bonus. They were a rough and rowdy bunch, but they were also some of the best souls imaginable.
Secret was a loner by nature, but she was forced to interact with a variety of people at the sanctuary on the daily. Before coming to Exodus, she had little knowledge of how to live a regular existence, but she was slowly learning. Most of the time, she considered socializing a complete pain, though she had to admit it had been good for her.
Still, she would never be what others considerednormal.
While there were only a handful of people she thought of as friends and even fewer whom she trusted, she would willingly throw down for anyone at Exodus. Especially all of the Tarin females who were at the sanctuary looking for safety. Secret might not talk about what had happened to her, but the scars on her body were enough to make the females at the sanctuary trust her in a way that words couldn’t.
The Dragon Warriors had offered to remove her marks, but she had turned them down. While some might have gladly accepted their generous offer, she couldn’t. Secret saw her scars as badges of honor. Of proof that she had survived a hell few could imagine. Perhaps one day she would be ready to let those awful reminders go.
