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“No, I-I came to…” He looked up like he’d find the answer written in the air above him. “I actually don’t quite remember why I came up here.” He gave Mikol an adorable frown and a look of confusion. “Doyouremember?”
“No, I’m sorry. Don’t you?”
“The young man shook his head sadly.
“You didn’t take any drugs, did you?”
“Do you think I did?”
Mikol smiled. “I don’t know, but it’s entirely possible for something like that to happen in a place like the Starlight.”
“Oh wait…I met a woman with red hair downstairs. She was a wonderful dancer, and she gave me one of her little pills. That could have been it.”
“I’d say it was highly likely,” Mikol felt a strong surge of protectiveness toward the beautiful little love slave. “Why don’t you rest in here until you feel better?”
A group of tall men all wearing the same kind of uniform suddenly came surging up the stairs toward them. It had been their shouts Mikol had been hearing for a while now, and their eyes lit up at the sight of the young man.
“You! Stop right there and don’t run! We’ve been looking for you!” one of them shouted and they all sped up with a determined looks on their faces. That is, until Mikol stepped fully out into the hallway, and they got a good look at who was standing there.
Mikol heard a growl coming up from deep inside his throat, almost impossible to hold back. It wasn’t even something he was fully aware of, as a partial shift had already come over him. A Tygerian growl was almost always frightening to those who heard it. The sound was one that rattled and even paralyzed the listener because of its low frequency and the way it carried over long distances. It was called a click-growl and was a warning sound, made by forcing air through his vocal cords. It was essentially a miniature version of a roar, using an open mouth to allow the hearer to better see the canines that had descended from his gums.
The click-growl was designed to tell enemies they were too fucking close and that whatever stood between them belonged strictly to the Tyger.
The man in the lead reared back in great alarm as the click-growl registered, and he stopped so abruptly, it caused the others behind him in the narrow corridor to crash into him. They all fell backward like the games of dominos his omak played sometimes with his father.
Despite the fearsome growl, the young man took an instinctive step toward Mikol, who stepped backward and motioned for him to go inside, until he got himself sorted back out. He didn’t want to inadvertently hurt him before the partial shift wore off. As the men in the hallway, began to get back to their feet and run, he stepped back inside, and concentrated on coming back to himself. When he felt mostly restored to normal, he turned to receive the human, and the next thing he knew, the man was in his arms, pulling him back into the room.
“Quick, get inside. They’re after me, and I don’t want them to get me.”
“Why not?” Mikol asked. “Who are they?”
“They’re…oh, never mind. It’s complicated, but I don’t want them to take me.”
“No one’s taking you anywhere,” Mikol said and closed the door firmly behind them, turning the lock. “You can stay here with me as long as you like.”
Suddenly, the young man looked up at him and their faces were only inches away. He drew in a quick, sharp breath. “You’re Tygerian, aren’t you? Oh, dear gods, you’re—you’re so beautiful.”
Chapter Five
Kalen was well aware that this whole disastrous attempt to outsmart his uncle’s men and leave them stranded on a moon like Belline was all his fault, and now it was backfiring on him dramatically. He and Dartan had come up with the idea on the long, tedious journey from Loros and now it all seemed rather childish. It was the kind of thing that sounds good when you’re tired, stressed and way too damned drunk to seriously be able to plan anything, but that never worked out in actual practice.
Kalen hadn’t slept all that well on the entire journey—he never did in space. The constant hum of the engines, along with the knowledge that he was suspended in a relatively small metal tube, hurtling through nothingness, incredible distances from the safety of firm soil beneath his feet, didn’t allow for deep, restful sleep, or at least not for him. Add to that his worries about his uncle and his mother and this betrothal contract, and he was far too nervous and far too stressed for sleep anyway.
As for his brilliant plan to get rid of the guards, before they’d even left on the shuttle for Belline, his uncle’s guards had known something was up. And from the moment they’d reached the Plaza, they had been suspicious and on edge. This had all seemed to Kalen like a harmless prank—a joke on the surly guards and his uncle and a way to show his contempt for both. The complete inappropriateness of it hadn’t really occurred to him. Maybe his uncle was right, after all, about him being too immature.
Yet once they were actually there on Belline, he’d been determined to enjoy himself. After the strains and pressures of the past couple of weeks since his father’s murder, Kalen threw himself into enjoying this little bit of freedom from his uncle’s constant scrutiny, and maybe even his last chance of liberty before the coming betrothal.
Because on the way to Lycanus 2, he’d finally made himself face the awful truth. His uncle’s plan to get rid of him had been rather brilliant. There wasn’t any good way out of this betrothal. Not without insulting and angering the powerful Tygerians, whose help he would need if he wanted to get rid of his uncle and free his people from Nerol’s tyranny. And that didn’t even take the Pton into account. He had to put his own wishes aside for the good of Loros, be nice and accommodating to this Prince Mikol and hope like hell for a long, protracted betrothal period.
So, he proceeded to get gloriously drunk on Belline, and because of his antipathy toward the other guards, he’d isolated them at another table. Or he did until at least one of them had taken charge. They hadnotgiven in to the excesses of the pleasure moon, and they’d known he had some plan up his sleeve and watched him like birds of prey. When he stumbled up the stairs, he was fully aware on some level that the orbs and bubbles popping all over the stairway were all because he had incautiously taken that damn white pill. He still tried desperately to ignore them and pretend he was fine. He was searching for the Jayronian girl he’d ordered, when his uncle’s guards started chasing him, he’d found himself unable to shake them no matter how hard he tried.
Kalen hadn’t realized just how fucked up he really was, until he stumbled from floor to floor, knocking on first one door and then another, being cursed at and shouted at until he forgot what he’d been seeking in the first place. Meanwhile, the hectoring guards followed him from hall to hall, like a small flock of annoying carrion birds, waiting to swoop in and feast once he finally faceplanted on the filthy carpet. The orbs and other flying objects followed him too—he left a wake of them behind him that must have been an easy trail to follow—and he was feeling hunted and a little desperate.
All he’d wanted that evening was some fun—a distraction from his life and maybe a dalliance with a companion for the evening. To have someone look at him with at least a semblance of affection, even if it was something he’d had to pay for. He wanted, for one night, to be more than someone who was standing in the way, his very existence an inconvenience to be bypassed and gotten rid of.
Then he’d knocked on this last door and perhaps the best-looking person he’d ever seen in his life had answered. He was thunderstruck when he saw him, and he was still at a loss for words.
He was a Tygerian and unlike anyone he’d ever seen before. He was massive for one thing—really tall, with the kind of hard muscles that came from constant training and fighting. He’d known that about Tygerians but hadn’t seen one in the flesh in years. And it was more than that. He was so undeniablyalienand otherworldly.
