Page 17 of The First Spark
He turned a dial on the side of the scanner, narrowing its focus to a circle.
“Look into the light, please.”
The blinding light of a retinal scan blasted her eye. Dark spots danced in the blinding halo. Kalie clenched her fists to keep from succumbing to the urge to blink.
It beeped. He lowered the light.
“Everything checks out. Must’ve been a problem with the scanner.”
“Must’ve,” Kalie echoed. Her gaze lingered on his clenched jaw and the tightness around his unblinking gray eyes.
Gods dammit, he knew something.
His lip curled. “You can board.”
Kalie’s heart skipped a beat. She rushed out the door and made a beeline towards the nearest boarding tube, knocking over a limping Lykorian man in her haste. He shouted a raspy curse after her, but she couldn’t stop. Once she got onboard, she could hide in her cabin until they landed. Everything would be fine. Ten steps. Five steps. She was so close.
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder.
Gasping, she whipped around and raised her fist.
The young guard stood behind her, with his hand braced on her shoulder. An infuriating smirk curved at his lips as he glanced at her fist. He held out her boarding pass.
“You forgot this.” His warm breath brushed against her ear as he leaned down, whispering, “Next time you raise a fist at someone,Princessa, at least do it right.”
Every muscle in her body locked up.
His loud footsteps clomped away. Still, Kalie stood there, until a woman in a fur coat brushed past her and she mustered up the courage to turn.
The guard had already disappeared.
And he’d taken her secret with him.
Stargate Route 112, Sector 5
Decemmensis-8, 817 cycles A.F.C.
“Cheers to Wells!”
With a grin and mock bow, Zane knocked back another shot of Deathstroke Nectar. The electric blue liquid was pungent, a terrible mixture of burning and freezing. Blowing a thick cloud of fog from his lips, he slammed the empty glass down on the counter. He swayed on his feet, but his date—a pretty lavender-skinned dancer in lingerie—caught his arm and guided him onto the barstool. He was almost certain her name was Crea, but he’d lost track about three shots ago.
She slid into his lap and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, a kiss as intoxicating as the alcohol.
His raucous group of coworkers cheered.
Between their constant shouting, the roar of the aibot fighting pit, the thumping music and the pulsing strobe lights, theChimaera’s bar was giving Zane one hell of a headache.
But it was worth it. He hadn’t felt this alive since he was an idiot teenager on Oppalli.
Ancel, who’d joined security a few weeks after him, flagged down the bartender. “Another round of shots! On the new boss!”
“Keep that up, and my first act as Head of Security will be to fire your sorry ass,” Zane warned, but slapped down his card all the same.
The roar from his section of the bar was thunderous.
He tried not to think about the insane tab he would be hit with at the end of the night. He’d never been careless with money; Mom had raised him paycheck to paycheck. But what the hell? He was only twenty-three, and his salary was about to shoot up to six figures. He could afford to enjoy a night of recklessness.
Besides, he needed a drink to survive this flight. Somewhere on this ship, a woman whose family had destroyed his was prowling around—and he’d let her board.
