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If my plan worked perfectly, we wouldn’t need them. Zol had trained for years in covert ops, but I was little more than a street rat. I needed this gig to work so I could prove myself, but I’d been around enough to know I needed to be practical about it. Even good plans had a way of going to shit as soon as you put them in motion.
A small white light on the balcony railing flashed.
“Someone’s at our door,” Zol said. “It’s time to be the Duchess for real.”
“Got it.” This wasn’t the first time I’d pretended to be Sjisji royalty. This getup was the only thing that could hide me from view without suspicion. Humans weren’t exactly known in this sector of the galaxy.
Which was the problem. We hadn’t been legally recognized as sentient yet.
It was some bullshit, especially for a place that already had four types of aliens. But the Grug were some kind of hive mind so big and spread all over lots of planets and things that all the rest of us seemed like ants to them. Around a hundred years ago, the other three species had banded together and fought to get the gray aliens to recognize them as sentient.
Heaven help us if that’s what it took this time. ’Cause a bunch of women shot across space like human popsicles weren’t exactly ready for war.
So we had to be sneaky to rescue my fellow humans, and I was flipping awesome at sneaky.
I lifted my chin and threw my shoulders back, and the fake wings moved with me. Only the Zaarn from theDaredevilhad updated translator chips that understood English, so I had to keep my mouth shut for this job. I gave Zol a regal nod, getting into character.
He crossed to the balcony’s door and yanked it open. A Sjisji waited on the other side, her pale-yellow feathers flashing with brightness every time one of the lights in the club swept over us. “The auction is about to begin, Duchess Prenlii.”
“We will follow,” Zol growled at her, playing the tough bodyguard to the hilt. Not that he couldn’t make good on it—my mate could fight!—but his real persona didn’t use all the flashy macho posturing.
When he looked over at me, a muscle twitched in his jaw. He didn’t like me putting myself in danger, but I had to. I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like if Zol hadn’t stolen me from that Grug cage, where I had to eat gross food pellets and lap from a water dispenser like a hamster.
I refused to leave these women to that fate.
Besides, I’d always been quick on my feet and able to get out of tight spots.
I just needed to do it again.
CHAPTER TWO
Zol
MY FATED MATE strutted down the series of ramps that switchbacked to the ground floor of the club. Fran-Key moved with the cool arrogance of someone who didn’t just think they were better than everyone else—theyknewit.
The little bit she’d told me about her life back on Earth made it clear it hadn’t been an easy one. But I couldn’t fault it. It had made her smart and resilient.
And it had brought her to me. My soul’s breath, flung across the universe for me to find and cherish.
I used to be bitter that I hadn’t found my mate on my home planet, that I’d been sent out to Roam, never to return. Now I wouldn’t change a thing.
No. I lied.
I’d have us holidaying on one of the pleasure planet’s sun-kissed beaches right now instead of here, in one of the most notorious mob nightclubs on Fraege.
Shattered Hearts was a front for the Tula Syndicate, which ruled the underground on Fraege and all three of its casino moons. The Grug had picked it for a reason. Even though the gray aliens wouldn’t admit that Hyoo-mons were sentient, they weren’t trying to sell them on the open market anymore. Not after Gravin and a crew of my fellow Daredevils crashed their last public pet auction to snatch Gravin’s fated mate from the Grug’s clutches. Then we stole the Hyoo-mon ship full of frozen females from the Grug.
So the hive-mind aliens used their collective brain and decided to make as much money as they could while hiding what they were doing away from the public eye. The Grug were selling the females as exotic pets to the bored rich who dabbled at the edges of the underground.
Duchess Prenlii fit the bill. It didn’t hurt that she had a bank account flush with creds.
When we reached the floor, the Sjisji led us along a cordoned-off path that kept the dancers at bay. The herby smell of sjuweed smoke hung heavy around a group of Tula we passed, the lizards swaying to the music in a languid, blissed-out daze.
A fat tail snapped out, crossing under the cordon, and I leaped forward, blocking it from hitting Fran-Key with my calf in a sting of pain. It wasn’t just that it would hurt her, but it might also tear the fragile silar silk of her costume.
The Tula roared, flaring its neck pouch in a flash of bright yellow, and I bared my teeth, flexing my shoulders as my hands curled into fists.
It glared but backed down when its friends tugged on its shoulders, holding it back. The lizards tended to be hotheaded, but they were also smart. No one messed with a Zaarn warrior without good reason.
