Page 16 of Trak
Nothing about this outfit felt “appropriate.” Most everyone they passed wore bulky space travel suits or simple garments in colors that matched the drab surroundings. Some beings wore nothing at all. Trak, in his tight pants and thick black straps crossing his bare chest, looked completely at ease. Gold winked from multiple piercings up his earlobes and also on the straps crossing his chest. Honestly, it didn’t matter what he wore. He always looked comfortable and in command of his surroundings.
He took her on a side trip to visit a massive glass dome. It offered a view of the stars without some of the light of the station to dilute it, and it was deserted, except for them. They walked up steps to an observation deck. Anna could have stood there for ages, gazing at ink-black space dotted with diamond-bright stars that burned so much brighter than any night sky she’d ever gazed upon on Earth. She stood there with Trak for long moments. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned against his strong, broad chest as he told her the names of some of the stars he knew, and pointed out a stunning, purple nebula that at first looked like a smear on the glass.
Anna was fascinated to hear his voice slip into that of a male simply eager to show her his corner of the galaxy. No ulterior motives. His hand was light on her hip. It never drifted anywhere, as she half expected it to. She imagined he would have been like this as a boy, if he’d had any time tobea normal boy before running a ship and a shady merchant business.
Her fingers ran along a jagged scar on his forearm. “How did you get this?” she asked, not thinking if it was something she shouldn’t ask.
Trak sighed. “A battle on the outer ring of Quan-ra. That’s a moon, by the way. Far from here.” His voice sounded wistful.
“You fought in battles?”
“Most young Virilians did in those days, before the virus that decimated our females. We used to fight to prove ourselves. Each scar corresponded with a tattoo about the battle, and each band around our wrists is something taken from the battle.”
He held up his arm where there were many dozens of thin strips. All different materials made up the bracelets, including tanned leather. Anna hated to ponder what they came from. “You don’t do that anymore?”
“No,” he replied. “It’s unnecessary and impractical. What few children we have left are trained for all manner of combat, but in a safe training center with a skilled instructor. Some continue the mercenary’s life, but the old ways have mostly died with our females.”
Anna nodded, inexplicably relieved. “Good.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Do not fear. Our child will not be expected to prove himself with bloodshed. He will receive the best education and training and make his own decisions for his life.”
Anna went slightly light-headed. Her reliefhadbeen for the child she was supposed to be producing with Trak. She just hadn’t put it together until he’d said it. “Good,” she said again, more firmly. “You know, it could be a girl.”
He nodded. “I would cherish a female child, but my instincts tell me that the first child we have together will be male.”
Thefirstchild they had? Anna kept her mouth shut. She would not comment on that. The contract was foronechild. That was it, along with her involvement in his life. The thought of a bunch of beautiful Virilian children that she had with Trak flickered through her mind and to her shock, it didn’t fill her with fear or resistance. On the contrary, the mental picture made her belly flutter with warmth. Would it be so bad, making a life with this male?
No, it wouldn’t be, but that wasn’t the deal they’d agreed to. Nothing Trak had said—the “first child” comment was merely a slip—indicated that their association was destined to be anything more than it was. Besides, her life was on Earth, not wandering through the galaxy as an opportunistic scavenger and wheeler-dealer of whatever could be sold. Well, honestly, it wouldn’t be so different from her life at home, except apparently Trak’s method paid better.
They moved on, walking through the station. They entered a sector where the corridors were wider and much more crowded. The beings they passed became more outlandishly dressed. Females teetered on stilt-like heels, dripping in colorful garments and overwhelmed by makeup and various strange body enhancements. Males also flashed bright colors and clearly made efforts to make themselves stand out. Anna didn’t feel quite so garish anymore. In fact, she was the one who looked drab compared to the others in this section of the station.
Trak leaned down and spoke quietly to her. “This part of the base caters to the wealthiest guests and residents.”
She swallowed, sidestepping a being with arms that appeared to have at least eight joints. “Are you in this area often?”
“Most of my business takes place in this sector, yeah.” He pointed to a closed set of doors from which music could be heard and the scent of food wafted. “That is the Miti Luti.That place sees a lot of dealmaking. Sees a lot of everything.”
“Not many ladies in there, then?”
He smirked. “There are plenty of ladies in the Miti Luti. Just not the kind you want to cross.” He lowered his voice, even though there wasn’t a reason to. It was doubtful anyone around them spoke any human languages. “These fancy folk you see will run you through before they let you scam them out of a single credit.” His teeth flashed in a smile. “You look worried.”
“I’m not.”She was.
“You were concerned about the blokes in the shadows a while back. I’m just saying that even though some folks look fancy and posh, they can be just as dangerous—usually, more so. Honestly, relax that wrinkled brow. I haven’t crossed any of these toffs,” he said. “That they know of.”
“Great.” Her fingers dug into his arm.
“Ah. We’re here.” He steered them through an archway lit with twinkling lights and a sign comprised of blocky symbols. Walking inside felt like a rain shower of lights. Colors moved across the walls, painting everyone in a swirl of changing hues. Almost instantly, a scantily clad male server appeared and handed both of them small crystal cups filled with a blue liquid.
Trak waggled his brows and tipped back the cup, emptying the contents in one swallow. “I wouldn’t recommend doing that, yourself, love. Although it would be fascinating to see whattagawould do to you.”
“What’s wrong with it?” She brought it to her nose and sniffed, then jerked back with a gag.
Trak laughed and plucked the glass from her fingers before it spilled. “It’s stronger stuff than you’re used to, I’m sure.”
“It smells like kerosene,” she said, eyeing the drink with distaste as he emptied her glass, too. “How can youdrinkthat?”
“It’s a Virilian favorite.” He flicked a hand and the server returned. Trak handed over the two glasses and motioned toward a peach-colored drink held by another patron. Within moments, Anna held a tall, thin glass containing a honey-scented liquid nearly the same shade as her dress.
