Page 16 of Needed in the Night
Just as I was about to ask him about the angry Atolani female who’d stared at me earlier, three raucous, green-skinned Raxians climbed onto chairs at the other end of the bar.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Mikas said and left to deal with the newcomers.
They were already inebriated and thus even more obnoxious than the average Raxian. But when he snarled, they quieted, paid, and sullenly accepted their drinks. Mikas wouldn’t get much of a tip after that growl, but he’d probably trade those few credits for less trouble. He might get extra tips from other patrons, especially the regulars. Nobody liked a rowdy Raxian.
Our place of employment was located on a side street just off a popular entertainment boulevard.Zaa’gatranslated to Alliance Standard roughly as “Friends and Drinks,” and its prime location made it popular with both offworld visitors whowanted to escape the noise and crowds and locals who appreciated a quieter and more intimate atmosphere.
Zaa’ga offered three main draws: an enormous variety of beverages from across the galaxy, a gorgeous bartender who doubled as security whenever the situation demanded it, and the novelty of a human singer. Out front, our larger-than-life holographic images beckoned those passing to come in and drink.
The only reason I allowed my image to be used was that I looked very different than before I arrived on Fortusia. My hair’s color and length had changed drastically, from shoulder-length and brown to long and multicolored. My eyes were now violet—a popular color among humans living on Fyloria, where my appearance had been altered. I’d even gone so far as to undergo vocal modification to help ensure the most advanced scanners could not connect my current appearance or voice with how I looked before.
None of the Erotovo’s agents had been spotted on Fortusia. My local contact had reported Novee’s former owner had focused his search for Halena Onsulus on Havel Prime, Halena’s alleged homeworld, and nearby worlds. That didn't mean I was safe, but with each week that passed, my back itched a little less.
As for my safety inside the bar, Mikas’s mere presence tended to dissuade even the most inebriated patrons from causing trouble. With spines on his broad shoulders and upper back, a shock of thick black hair that ruffled when he was angry, shimmering blue-green scaly flesh, and fangs courtesy of his reptilian DNA, Mikas exuded “Behave yourself” at all times. And when he growled…well, trouble tended to run the other way.
In more ways than one, he was a good friend to have on a planet where I knew almost no one—and in a bar where some tourists chose to interpret my stage persona and attire as flirtation.
A heavy hand landed on the back of my chair, making me jump. The scent of smoke and leather swirled around me.
An enormous Hardanian male with metal-studded black and green skin, wearing animal pelts and armor from shoulders to thighs, grinned down at me, his sharp teeth on full display. His fingers grazed my upper back, not at all accidentally.
How dare he touch me. A wave of hot fury washed through me, followed by icy hate and the strong desire to punch him hard enough to knock that grin off his face.
“Beautiful song, lonely human,” he said, his voice as rough as his hands. “You are lovely and your voice is pleasant.”
“Thank you.” I narrowed my eyes and leaned away from more unwanted touching.
Either he didn’t notice my scowl and body language or he ignored them. “If you long for touches in warm waters,” he said, nodding over his shoulder, “my brothers and I will gladly provide them.”
Behind him, at a large table befitting their size, two other Hardanians raised their heavy tankards to me in a toast. I didn’t recognize the sigil on their armor, but it signified they were scions of a noble family.
Hardanian males’ biological imperative was to seek females to share among small groups, usually comprised of brothers or male cousins. I had nothing against the practice, but these potential suitors didn’t interest me, even if all they wanted was a few pleasurable hours. My instincts told me these were not males to be trusted. I never ignored my instincts.
“I’m not lonely.” I sipped my brandy, striving for polite disinterest. Hopefully he’d take the hint. “Those were just lyrics to a song. Please go back to your drinks.”
His grin didn’t waver. “We see no rings, no collar, no tattoos.” He leaned closer and inhaled, his broad nostrils flaring as he treated me to a close-up view of the metal studs along his jaw before I moved away. “You do not bear the scent of a mate.We are honorable, handsome males who find you appealing. Why do you pretend you do not want us?”
At the other end of the bar, Mikas was opening a bottle of expensive Bacorian mead for a pair of wealthy-looking traders. He wasn’t looking in our direction, but the tension in his shoulders indicated he was listening.
“Who’s pretending?” I put my drink down. “You just sniffed me—which was rude, by the way. Do Ismelllike I’m interested?”
The Hardanian’s smile vanished. His orange eyes lit up, glowing like coals. “Hr garagh,” he spat, and stepped forward until my left breast pressed against his abdomen. This time, I didn’t move back. Nobody was going to push me around—not at my own workplace.
His brothers rose, growling, their drinks forgotten. The bar fell silent—except for the Prylothian, who squatted in his pool gurgling into a pipe of Engareni wine, happily oblivious to the drama playing out nearby.
At my side, where the Hardanian couldn’t see it, I flexed my right wrist. A dagger slipped silently into my hand from its sheath on my forearm. All my gowns, regardless of their designs, had long sleeves and thigh-high slits for a reason, and it had nothing to do with tips.
“Step back,” I said, very clearly.
He bared his teeth in a snarl. “What will you do if I stay where I am, little human?”
At a glance, I noted the Hardanian’s armor had six weak points. Those hides—trophies of hunts on other planets—provided no protection from my blade. He was big. I was faster. My dagger was sharp. With a touch in the right place on the hilt, its blade would drip untraceable poison. I had three other weapons on my person at this moment that could dispatch him just as quickly as my blade. No one touched me without my permission. Not anymore.
But I was posing as an ordinary human singer, and ordinaryhumans didn’t fight Hardanians and win. They certainly didn’t kill an angry Hardanian male in a single blow. If I killed him, I’d reveal secrets about myself I needed to keep hidden.
Then I’d have to flee this city—possibly this world. And I didn’t want to. I hadn’t left my job as a Web operative behind by choice, and I’d come to Fortusia to hide from the Erotovo, but I liked my life here, humble as it was. By all the gods above and below, I was tired of running from one mission to the next. I wanted ahome.
His flesh demanded to feel my blade, though, especially the hand that had touched my back as if he had the right to do so. My hand tightened on the hilt of my dagger.
