Page 23 of Champion (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #6)
The afternoon sun dipped into the horizon, casting shadows on the pathway that cut through the stone abodes. We knew that Nansar usually took his meals alone, feeling far too superior to share his company with anyone. It seemed like the best opportunity for me to gain an audience.
The air seemed to hum as I neared the largest of the dwellings, my heart racing with both dread and anticipation.
Despite Adtovar, Charick, and Zahavi coaching me relentlessly, my mind raced with thoughts of how I would approach Nansar and what I would say.
It had been over twenty years since I’d done any sort of undercover work.
I felt sick and clammy, sweat beading on my forehead.
Did Zarpazian’s sweat?
Shit, probably not.
I paused in the shadows, gathering myself, eyes darting about for anything that might derail the plan.
Low golden light beamed from the small windows in the dining area, along with voices raised in camaraderie.
Adtovar and Zahavi would be there by now, spreading the tale of how Charick was MIA, and I’d taken to my bed with worry.
A decent cover story unless Charick got himself spotted, which was a likely scenario. He stayed hidden in Zahavi’s house for the time being, although Adtovar had to threaten tie him up to keep him from following me. Charick could be completely overprotective, but I didn’t hate it.
I might still be on the fence over the whole fated mate shit, but I couldn’t deny that the connection between us was incredible…
magical, almost. I luxuriated in the way Charick’s touch could make me forget all the troubles surrounding us.
Being in his arms was like floating on a cloud, weightless and free. Perfect.
Of course, perfection didn’t last forever, and now my entire body trembled with unease as I steeled myself for what came next.
I held no qualms about what I had to do while pretending to be the Zarpazian, save one thing…
pretending Charick was dead. Even though it was all part of the ruse, the mere thought of saying those words caused a sharp ache in my chest. It had almost been a reality, and I never wanted to revisit that dark possibility again.
What I’d really like to do was gut Nansar like a fish for nearly getting Charick killed.
But stopping Nansar’s scheme was bigger than my need for vengeance.
I needed to put my Texas Chainsaw Massacre plans for him on the backburner. .. for now.
Hesitantly, fingers trembling, I traced where the small blade hid under my kilt, tied to my thigh.
Charick’s fingers had been warm and soft as he positioned the blade with a small strip of leather.
It would be so easy to slip the knife into my hand and stab Nansar.
But as much as I wanted to feel the slide of the blade into his flesh, I couldn’t do it.
Not yet. Tonight, I was a soldier on a mission.
I’d spent years letting the Navy train me on the best way to gather information from a subject.
Years of learning the techniques to evaluate a suspect’s verbal and physical behavior.
Years spent developing skills to pull information from a reluctant source using direct confrontation, flattery, expressing empathy, offering alternative scenarios, and creating a high- pressure environment along with sympathy, commonly called the Reid Technique.
Of course, I had no experience trying to convince murderous alien royalty that I was a shapeshifting assassin. First time for everything.
Nansar’s abode stood at the far end of the row of stone cottages, larger than the others and less pronounced in its state of disrepair. I slipped into a darkened alley, letting the coolness of shadows and the stone wall on which I leaned soothe my nerves somewhat.
I ran my hands over my hair, face, and body, making sure everything remained in place.
Zahavi had helped me dress, much to Charick’s chagrin, but it had been the right move.
How I wore the tunic and kilt assigned to all gladiators was different from how a Zarpazian would wear it.
While humans wore clothes for modesty and appearance, aliens seemed much more concerned with how their clothing functioned than looked.
Zahavi altered my garments, making them more form-fitting, so the thin, supple leather moved like a second skin.
Too bad I was pretending to be a murderous bastard; I actually looked rather hot in the form-fitting leather.
My fingertips sought the last component of my outfit, one I didn’t want noticed.
The old comm unit Zahavi turned into a recorder.
I hid the string underneath the neckline of my tunic, with the recorder nestled between my breasts.
According to Zahavi, it should be able to pick up words from as far away as twenty feet away, which was advantageous, especially since I wanted to stay as far away from Nansar as possible.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I squared my shoulders and stepped onto the path, my steps leading toward Nansar’s abode.
Two guards stood outside the doorway, their pale blue eyes widening at my approach. I stopped, keeping several feet away, Zahavi’s warning that a Zarpazian didn’t like to be touched paramount in my brain.
“Tell Nansar the human wishes to speak with him.” I kept my voice flat and emotionless.
The larger of the two guards let out an amused snort. “Why would he want to speak with you?”
Not a surprising question. The guard would have no way of knowing the human before him was truly a Zarpazian assassin. Or at least pretended to be.
I flicked my fingers, my mind recalling Adtovar’s instruction to act arrogant. I was pretending to be the best assassin in the universe, after all.
“Tell Nansar that I am not of the same mind as before.”
The guards looked befuddled, but since Nansar hired Vreses to kill me and assume my identity, he would know the meaning of my words. At least, I hoped he did.
The guards shared a look, with the larger one giving another aggravated snort. “Wait here.”
His heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs, only to reappear seconds later, this time in a rush.
“He will see you,” the guard said, stepping through the doorway. The smaller male looked so comically shocked by the announcement that I had to bite back a smile.
“Up the staircase.” The larger guard indicated with a jerk of his chin, giving me a wide berth, his eyes wary.
Good. I’d fooled the guards. Now for the hard part.
I took my time ascending the staircase, careful of my body language and expression.
Vreses was one of the most feared beings in the universe.
Despite being housed in a fragile human body, he would retain superiority and arrogance.
I learned early on in my training that the trick to succeeding undercover was to fully embody one’s cover.
Of course, I’d only worked undercover twice in my career, both times as a prostitute.
In hindsight, walking down a city street with my ass and tits hanging out seemed preferable to pretending to be an alien assassin.
I paused on the final step, taking a deep breath and setting my body in a supercilious pose before stepping through the archway, the creaking of the double doors heralding my arrival.
The room differed little from other stone cottages—a little bigger, perhaps.
Roughhewn wood supported the stone walls and made up the rafters.
There was little furniture, save for a few measly chairs, simple and utilitarian with little decoration or adornment.
But in the center of the room stood a lavish wooden throne adorned with carvings and velvety red cushions.
Nansar lounged upon the chair, his posture exuding haughtiness.
Yet there was a desperation in his eyes that betrayed the knowledge that the seat was not really his…
at least not yet. A small table sat nearby, holding the remains of his dinner.
He ate far better than the gladiators. Big surprise there.
I’d spent a month travelling in a spaceship with him, only seeing his face when he threw food or packets of water into the small room that served as my prison cell.
I hated him then. Now, knowing that his machinations had nearly killed Charick, my emotions went beyond hate.
I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to kill him for what he did to the man I . .. loved.
Certainty settled over me like a tight glove.
Oh my God. I loved Charick. I did. The idea of finally surrendering myself to all the mate shit made my blood grow warm and my skin tingly without even a hint of hesitation.
Shit. Why couldn’t I have had this realization earlier when I lay in his arms instead of standing before the enemy?
I pushed thoughts of a happy future with my mate aside and concentrated on the task at hand.
Green eyes turned in my direction, pearlescent horns highlighted by the light of flickering candles. I met his gaze, keeping my eyes hard… and smirked.
Nansar tensed, his spine straightening as he slowly sat up, hands gripping the armrest of his pretend throne as a wave of clarity passed over his pale features.
“Everyone out.” Nansar’s words came in a whisper directed toward the half dozen guards milling about.
“But my lord.” The guard nearest the throne protested, putting himself between me and Nansar.
“Get out!” Nansar screeched, leaping to his feet with his arms gesturing wildly. “Now! Everybody out!”
His actions reminded me of a bratty toddler, and apparently, the guards thought so as well. They shuffled from the room, their expressions ranging from indulgence to disgust.