Page 6 of A Mate for Vasek (Tallean Mercenaries #11)

Vasek

Vasek paced the small space of his personal shuttle.

He’d thought that concentrating on the jewels would help him clear his head, but it hadn’t. He’d found himself looking over at the tiny form on his bed again and again. Yes, his bed, because of all the places he stayed, he thought of his shuttle most as home. It was why he’d invested so much in it.

His shuttle might not look like much on the outside, but that was how he liked it.

Flaunting his wealth was a recipe for disaster.

He’d seen it time and again in his clients.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t splurge where it counted.

He’d worked very hard for his credits and wanted to enjoy them while he was alive.

He, of all people, knew how mortal he was. Flesh and bone expired readily, and metal and alloys were susceptible to corrosion. He helped his clients cheat death often, but in the end, death always won.

There’d been more than enough in that pile of gems to cover his entire excursion to New Rhea.

He’d come out on top in this transaction despite Bakum’s deception.

But he’d rather have a long-term, repeat customer than a dead one who was very profitable once.

And Bakum was as good as dead. Unless the male got extremely lucky, or had friends in high places. He’d pissed off the wrong people.

Vasek wasn’t certain, but he had a feeling that it wouldn’t be the last time he’d come face to face with Morad.

The male had asked about Dawn, and Vasek had reminded him of his confidentiality policy.

Technically, Vasek hadn’t confirmed that Bakum was with him either.

He’d simply let them know that he had a client and that if any of them wanted help in the future, they better wait until he was done.

They’d agreed to the full half-day, but Vasek had told Bakum he only had two hours, so the male would hurry. He didn’t want to give him any reason to stay around. The farther he got, the better, since it would keep Morad busy for longer.

The big question now was what to do with the little human snoring on his bed.

Vasek couldn’t keep her. Risking a mate bond was not an option, not with the horrible luck his family had when it came to mates. It was so bad that some who knew about it had started calling it a curse.

It had started with his grandsire, who’d been a Dominion captain.

Vasek had never met him, but he’d heard the story numerous times as a young male.

His grandsire spent time in many different ports and sired children with females in a number of them.

Six, to be precise, all males. He’d sworn to never settle down and instead chose to simply pay for the females to care for his numerous offspring.

One of those offspring had been Vasek’s sire, who grew up on a moon in the inner planets.

It was also where his grandsire had chosen to stay after an injury had forced him from service.

It was only then that the mate bond had hit him …

for the very female who had birthed his son.

But Vasek’s grandmother had already spent over a decade raising her boy on her own, while watching a male she’d cared for boast of female conquests at every port.

And even though he had not been her mate, it had still hurt.

So her first reaction was to laugh in his face.

But, realizing his presence and credits would benefit her son, his grandmother had allowed him to stay around.

His grandsire had tried for the next decade to win her love, slowly going crazy as the unrequited mate bond stole his sanity.

Her side of the bond never formed, and when her children were old enough, she left.

Vasek’s grandsire had hunted her down, ending both their lives by flying his ship into an asteroid.

Vasek’s sire reacted to the tragedy of losing both parents by focusing on his career and refusing to feel.

Slowly, the stories began to come in about Vasek’s uncles.

One had met his mate, only to lose her almost immediately to disease.

Another bonded to a female who was already mated.

The other two found mates who did not want them. All of them ended badly.

Wishing to avoid this fate, Vasek’s sire had contracted a female for two offspring instead, choosing never to meet the female face-to-face. As a result, Vasek had never met his mother.

At first, Vasek had considered the idea of a curse ludicrous. They must all just be coincidences. But then his brother, Ranek, had run afoul of the curse himself. That event had completely destroyed their relationship. It had also taken Ranek’s sanity and Vasek’s good arm.

It was right after this that Vasek had made the trip to the outer planets and never returned. It had taken years for him to build a new life.

If Vasek didn’t want all of his hard work obliterated, he’d need to drop Dawn off somewhere and fast. Somewhere safe. Reka 5 maybe? They were always open to new colonists, and she could live a good life there. She’d have freedom. Start a new life.

There was also Kean’s compound. Vasek knew Kean from his Dominion days.

It was another lifetime ago, but they’d kept in touch.

They were from the same cohort. Kean had an aptitude for biochemistry, and Vasek for medicine.

At the time, the Dominion had a trial program altering their soldiers with mods.

It merged medicine and robotics, and Vasek had mentored under the head of the program.

He'd been so young at the time, na?ve too, about the ways of the universe. He’d thought he’d be helping soldiers regain what they’d lost. But instead, the Dominion had treated the wounded soldiers as test subjects.

To the best of the Dominion’s knowledge, the old Vasek was dead. Had been for a very long time. And none of the soldiers they’d sent his way since had realized who he was.

Certain people knew, like Kean and Zharor. And their personal medic, Ulkin, knew as well. Then there was Ulrek and those who’d left with him when he switched sides.

Vasek remembered their surprise when they realized Vasek, a male they’d thought was long dead, was still alive and working out here. Most people had no idea he was ex-Dominion, and he liked to keep it that way. He preferred they didn’t know anything about him at all.

Vasek spared another glance at Dawn. Yes, Kean’s compound was probably the best place for her. Morad would think twice before looking for her there if his interest really was in her and not the bejeweled dress.

He’d contact Kean once he was on his way to Vosthea.

For now, he checked his monitoring networks for signs it would be safe to return to Vosthea.

The Dominion team that had the gall to corner Vasek and demand he rat out a male he’d recently treated had left after losing a few members to some friends of Vasek.

But there was talk of a secondary team that had landed on Vosthea, asking similar questions.

This one was a little smarter; they came in an unmarked ship and did not wear their uniforms. In fact, they didn’t even look or act Dominion, according to his intel.

But their goal on the planet was too similar, and Vasek didn’t trust it.

They were causing enough shit at the port that some of the locals were gathering to drive them away.

It would be best to stay here a little while longer.

Anyone bleeding out in Vosthea would just have to find another doctor.

The males who used his services understood that he wasn’t always available.

The shuttle was already alerting him that they’d arrived at his hideout, which was just in the wilds outside of the port. The shallow cave was more of a large overhang, just big enough to hide his shuttle from detection. Anyone trying to scan the area would only see a whole lot of rock.

Vasek carefully maneuvered his shuttle into the makeshift hangar, back end first. Being able to fly out at a moment’s notice in case of an emergency was key. Unlike the takeoff, the landing was quick, nimble, and barely noticeable.

Dawn still lay asleep on his bed.

He sighed. What was he going to do with a human!

That was a problem for later. He looked down at his arm. He hadn’t gotten away completely unscathed from his little tussle with Bakum. The artificial skin over his bio-mechanical arm was torn, showing the metal underneath, and he hadn’t noticed it until he was sorting through the gems.

One would think that being his own medic was convenient, but it really wasn’t, especially since it was his good arm he always had to work on.

Still, years of caring for the robotic enhancement that replaced his arm from the elbow down meant he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Besides, changing out the skin was easy.

As Vasek gathered his equipment, he noticed a canister tipped onto its side with the words olfactinull in bold lettering. He picked it up, an idea forming.

Olfactinull was a compound that deadened the olfactory nerves.

Years ago, it had been a novel chemical, used by those who wanted to hide their nefarious dealings.

But it was such a simple chemical to replicate that it was now available readily at most ports, and advertised for multiple uses.

Sometimes, it was the only way to make living on a ship full of unwashed males for weeks at a time bearable.

The trick to avoid temporary loss of smelling capabilities altogether was to use it sparingly and spray it into the room, and not to inhale it directly.

Holding his breath, he sprayed it everywhere in the shuttle except where Dawn was sleeping. He’d get the bed later; it would probably need it since it would smell like her the most after her nap. After letting the olfactinull disperse and settle, he took an experimental breath. Nothing.

No, not nothing. He picked up an unused robotic hand from the stash and sniffed it. It still smelled like metal and composite, but only very faintly. Good. This he could work with.

Things like mate bonds required time together and the right scent to form. No sense of smell, no mate bond, that much at least had been tested ad nauseum. This meant he could now enjoy Dawn’s company, and maybe even other offerings, he thought, remembering her lust back on the pilot’s chair.

Too bad this canister was already half-empty. He’d have to pick up some more back at the port before they left the planet. Putting the canister back on the shelf, upright this time and near the front for easy access, he sat down with his equipment to work on his arm.

His work goggles not only magnified his work when needed, providing just the right light at the right angle for the task at hand, but they also had an in-ear extension that played music. Vasek had a special playlist for different surgical tasks, and he found they helped him concentrate better.

He’d gotten the old, torn synthetic skin removed and was struggling to get the replacement in its place—the initial placement was always the trickiest—when he realized he had an audience.