Page 4 of Alliance
A sudden clap of thunder and the human man that touched me softly and pressed his lips against my skin was gone. The overseer ripped away from me, catching my face on his mouth parts as he jumped back. Hot pain seared down my spine and a carbonated sting of electricity crackled against my neck.
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“The fuck was that?” the overseer rattled, breathing hard. He latched his pants, taking two steps towards the lounge. I was frozen again, face to the ceiling, mouth open as if gasping for air. My eyelids were wide open, and I strained to glance sideways, to catch the overseer’s attention and implore him to fix mycharging port. I couldn’t override the data battering my spinal cord.The pain…
It hurt so much.
Too much.
As the doors burst open and my originator stumbled into the hallway with desperation, she pushed the overseer out of her way. He careened, exoskeletal plates ramming into my extended throat and shoulders.
“Rosy!” a woman yelled, flying past us with an elbow to the overseer’s chest. The charging jack inserted in my spine jolted from the impact and ripped open the cap of my port, tearing my flesh. My pod wobbled, the levipucks holding it aloft straining under the overseer’s added weight.
“Hey!” he roared, pushed back a second time, grinding me into a whirring mess of live cables, black oil, and red human blood.
“Imani, wait!” boomed a huge voice.
Occupied with the chase, the overseer never saw the tail whipping towards his face. It pulled him off of me with a sharp snap, and he disappeared behind the swiveling kitchen doors with a yell as another crack rang out.
No longer attached to my pod, I teetered on weak knees, fingertips on fire, then fell into blackness, gasping for air.
01
Three sols prior.
Music shook the porous walls ofXenoden,thumping against Fásach’s fur and visibly vibrating each follicle. The club was steaming, condensation from bodies and breath mingling with the underground volcanic temperatures of the Volcage. Dancers ground their hips and jaws against each other, rubbing fistfuls of ice over bare skin, licking rivulets of water from whatever body was nearest.
The movers were an easy eyesore to spot in the mosh pit that verged on an orgy. Their eyes were sharp and watchful, scanning the throng for potential clients. This one looked like they were fixing for a sniff ofdaz.That one knocked backgobshots like they wanted to get lost in a warp pill. The venandi women at the bar might have flashed their swollen groin plates if someone offered them a sheet of lick-wish.
The drunk on the edge of the bar looked like she might pass out from the crushing heat.
Fásach pressed his way through the crowd, a hand on the auto-zip of his thermophobic jacket to keep wandering hands from finding his supply. Unlike every other mover in the club, he didn’t deal in recreationals. Instead, he dished out the most sought after drug on Huajile.
“You need another shiver if you’re going to stay,” he yelled into the drunk’s ear. She was a yog with silver caps onher protruding fangs, visible as she turned her head sideways on the bartop. Her pupils were abnormally wide, and by the state of her clothing, she’d enjoyed a lick-wish, a guess Fásach confirmed from the glowing dye on her tongue as she licked her cracked lips. She brushed her hand down his bare forearm as he withdrew the sticker that would affix to her wrist and cool her down for the next few hours.
“You’re sosmall,”she giggled, hooking her long nails into the pocket of his pants and swaying him side to side.
“Amazing. You’re soobservant,”he mumbled, picking up her limp arm. He pressed on the divot beneath her second wrist bone and her holotab flashed on.
“You’d make a dainty pet,” she purred as he readied the transaction and held it up for her to see. She made eyes at him, watery and unfocused in the blue glow of her tab, and completely ignored the screen hovering inches from her face, even when he shook her hand. Instead, her painted claws pricked his hip bone, traipsing up his diminished adonis belt and abdominal wall, inspecting him as a potential playmate.
His ear twitched, annoyed but unfazed. He was used to people pawing him now, but he’d never get used to the simpering tone and the wandering hands. Catching her wrist, he leaned into her tympanum to make sure she heard him.
“Do you accept the transaction, or should I call security to bounce you?”
“Fine. You’re no fun, puppy.”
The yog accepted and he stuck the sticker on the inside of her wrist. She instantly sighed with relief, and he removed her hand from the waistband of his pants, retreating to the closest vantage point away from the dance floor.
Fásach sought out the other movers posted aroundXenodenwith a wary stare. Sure enough, a trio of yogs loitered against the wall near the DJ dais, where the zambandi shock jocknamed Impulz played mixes of his own throat-singing and trap beats. They leaned their heads together as they stared him down, and Turj, the nastiest bastard of the three, smirked with a little jerk of his head in greeting.
Scocite.
Fásach checked the time with an aggravated snap of his teeth. It wasn’t even halfway through the night and already he’d need to watch his back. Even though his own guild, Gaul, was top dog on Huajile,Xenodenwas neutral turf. The club had an ironclad no Family business policy, so any scrap that happened on its premises was strictly personal beef only. If Turj and his little troop of popper pushers got the jump on him, there was no calling for backup, and they knew it.
A fancy guildmate all by their lonesome with top-shelf product? An irresistible target.
Especially since Fásach had lost so much bulk in recent months. To anyone but another yiwren, he probably looked sick because, until a year ago, he’d been predator-fluid. His frame had been filled out with thick muscle beneath his amber and silver coat, fangs longer and sharper than the average yiwren.
