Page 3 of Dark Survivor (The Qaldreth Warriors #2)

Chapter Two

Tiny glanced at the wall clock while Riaan was mid-thrust. He had her pinned to a shelf in the storeroom—the only place in the store without sec cams. She’d thought a quickie would be just the thing to take the edge off her uneasiness.

In a little less than an hour, she had to be at her parents’ for dinner.

He grunted, his arms gripping her too hard. She studied his expressions, and despite his handsomeness, she felt nothing… No impending orgasm, no frisson of excitement, more like she was checking a box. Promiscuous during med school? Check.

She had too many of those.

Earn a scholarship? Check.

Get a part-time job at a convenience store for extra tokens? Check.

At least it allowed her to study, but it also meant she survived on minimal sleep. Par for the course.

Realizing time was slipping past her with no signs of Riaan finishing, she dug her nails into his back and fake-groaned. She tightened her legs around his hips while writhing as if God himself had blessed her with an almighty orgasm.

“Oh, Riaan,” she mumbled, adding a breathlessness to her voice. A finality settled on her. They were done. She couldn’t muster enthusiasm for a relationship that was purely for convenience.

At last, he gasped, his hips stilling.

A sense of uncleanliness washed over her. The urge to bathe caught hold of her mind and wouldn’t release her. She scowled. Now she’d have to head home first. As soon as he stepped back, she lowered her legs and straightened her clothing.

He smirked. “That was fun.”

“Sure,” she said, swinging the door open wide.

In about twelve minutes, Kenny would arrive for his shift.

Riaan had to be gone by then. One glance showed him nowhere near ready.

She tucked in his limp dick, condom and all, and carefully zipped him shut.

A quick brush of her fingers over his T-shirt had him looking halfway descent.

Maybe his chiseled chest had swayed her?

She snorted at that bit of nonsense. Any man would do in her quest to ‘find herself,’ or so she told her friends. But deep down, her recklessness had to do with her parents. She grimaced. Another glance at the clock confirmed Kenny’s arrival was imminent, and yet Riaan lingered.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, at last catching on to her less-than-happy mood.

“I’m having dinner with my family.”

He frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry, Tiny.” He tried to pull her into a hug, but she slapped his hands away.

“As in now, Riaan. Please…” She nudged her chin at the automatic doors. “I still need to hand over to Kenny.”

“Fine, but I’ll text you later.” He kissed her temple and left.

His disappearing shoulders brought her a flicker of joy.

She clung to that and hurried to capture the stock counts.

Everything was token-based with the printing of cash having dwindled after the Great Water Shortage, so she didn’t need to account for payments.

However, pickpockets still existed. Her stock numbers had to align with sold products, and any discrepancy came out of her wages.

She couldn’t afford to lose a single token.

And of course, Kenny was late.

She glared at Kenny as she swept past him, not daring to say a word unless she wanted to spew curses. Her day hadn’t gone well, having received not-so-favorable feedback on her last assignment. The scholarship’s continuity depended on her results.

She hurried to the bus stop for the autobus that drove past every fifteen minutes. When her ass touched down on the seat, she texted her mom using the device embedded in her palm.

Gonna be late.

No reply was forthcoming. She released a slow breath. As a little girl, she’d learned not to expect common decencies from her distracted parents. Knowing this didn’t stop her from hoping this time would be different. She rolled her lips then pinched them, letting the pain squeezing her chest ease.

She took a sol-bath as soon as she got home, grateful for the warmth of the beam as it scanned her body and made her squeaky clean.

Pity it couldn’t remove the Riaan-shaped smudge off her soul.

Because Mom didn’t respond, Tiny took the time to dress in black tailored trousers, a crisp, white blouse, and her ankle boots in pseudo-leather.

She fluffed her hair and was out the door, this time calling for a taxi.

With her palm pressed to her ear, she said, “Need a taxi to downtown Old Lake City.”

“Ten minutes,” the AI droned.

She waited on the pick-up point marked with a yellow dot outside her dorm.

With her gaze down, she didn’t need to converse with anyone—her mood was that dismal.

Her thoughts circled on how to improve her grades with the time she had available and what would be the best approach, and laughingly considered seducing the older professional.

That, at least, got a snort out of her. Dinner would be free except for the emotional trauma.

Although, she’d scoff noodles if it meant not having to spend any time with her parents. That was a lie. Her dad…

She sighed. I love them. She did. Dad more so.

The taxi ride was too short. She raised her gaze up the apartment block, one of many mass housing spires piercing the sky and sucking up the sunlight with their sol-paneled exteriors.

After taking a moment to square her shoulders, she strolled into the lobby.

Every step was like trudging through hip-height mud.

At last, she knocked on the door of her old home.

Half of her hoped that no one would answer.

Dad ended her silly hope, yanking her into the apartment and his crushing hug. “How’s my girl?” He shoved her back to study her. “You look good, Tiny. Dark shadows under your eyes, but that’s to be expected.” He sidled closer. “Your mother’s made meatloaf. Jamie’s on some sort of health kick.”

“Real meat?” she asked, arching a brow before peering into the open-plan living area levels above the city below.

Dad’s grimace said it all, as did the burnt-organic aroma hanging in the air. “Something to drink?”

“She knows where everything is. She’s not a visiting dignitary,” Mom said, glaring at Dad. “Come, Tiny, help me set the table…since you’re late without notifying me.”

Tiny stiffened, tempted to swivel on her heel, and leave. Her glance caught her brother lazing on the couch, a gaming controller in hand. Beside him was a beer.

“Now,” Mom snapped, thrusting a plate at her.

When Tiny grabbed it, she hissed. It was still hot from the sol-powered dishwasher. With singed fingertips, she almost threw the stainless-steel plates onto the table. Mom trailed her, nudging them into position as if they hadn’t been burned in the fires of the sun.

“Cutlery,” she said.

Tiny wasn’t an idiot and used the oven mitts to set out the knives and forks, all while glowering at her useless brother.

Younger than her, he was her parents’ baby. In their eyes, he never did anything wrong, required more compassion, and deserved a bigger allowance. They even dismissed his delinquent behavior as that of a young man lost in a world of temptation.

She tossed aside the mitts and accepted the glass of cold fruit juice Dad offered her. He took his place at the head of the table when Mom placed the brown lump at the center. It didn’t look appetizing.

She sat to the right of Dad, Tiny to his left, with a place beside Mom for Jamie.

“Honey, it’s dinner time,” Mom sang.

“Five minutes, Mom,” he growled, jerking and punching his console.

“All right, sweetheart,” she said.

Tiny widened her eyes at Dad, but he just shrugged. Reaching for the ‘meatloaf’ got her hand smacked. She snatched it back, curling her fingers into fists.

“We’re waiting?” she asked.

Mom pursed her lips while draping the napkin across her lap. “If you’d been here on time—”

“We’d still wait, Mom.” Tiny winced at the whine in her voice. When Mom said nothing, Tiny eyed the impending gastric experiment she was about to suffer through. “So, how has work been?” She glanced at Dad.

“Oh, the usual,” he said, nudging his knife to the side and back with a fingertip. “Might be up for a promotion.”

“That’s wonderful, Dad. You work so hard,” she said, flashing him a smile. He’d been a factory foreman for as long as she’d been alive. Perhaps they’d realized he was worthy of becoming the manager. They could use the additional tokens, too.

When she met her mother’s gaze, she stayed quiet. Manners demanded she ask the same of her mom, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Jamie leaped to his feet, screamed at the wall-mounted screen, then threw the controller onto the floor. It clattered across the metallic flooring.

“Jamie,” Dad said, using a tone that brooked no argument.

Jamie slid into the chair next to Mom, bringing his beer with him. “Sorry, Dad.” He looped an arm around Mom and kissed her cheek. “This looks amazing, Mom.”

She beamed. “Vegetarian, you said.”

“I did.” He rubbed his belly, shifting his T-shirt and revealing a few needle marks.

Tiny scowled. He’s using again. His arms were clear, and like an idiot, he thought he could hide his addiction. She studied her parents. Do they know?

Mom dished up on Dad’s plate first, then for Jamie, herself, and Tiny… In that order. Tiny’s portion was the smallest but, under the circumstances, something to be grateful for.

“How’s school?” Dad asked as he’d been doing since she’d started at kindergarten.

“Good.” Because she’d earned the scholarship and self-funded her lifestyle, they knew nothing and had no say about her grades or daily life. And once she graduated and headed off to residency, she never needed to see them again.

Tears stung her eyes. She’d miss her dad. Guilt twinged with guilt at abandoning him, forcing him to deal with Jamie’s downward spiraling alone. But she couldn’t live Dad’s life for him.

“What are you up to these days, Jamie?” she asked, taking a tiny bite of the mashed brown clumps on her plate. The flavor of scorched cauliflower coated her tongue. She sipped her juice while staring at her brother, expectant.

“He’s considering a local art school,” Mom said, grinning.

“Oh?” Tiny forced a smile. “I didn’t know you could draw.”

He dropped his fork on his half-eaten meatloaf and jumped to his feet. “Let me get my portfolio.”

She almost mouthed ‘portfolio’ but managed to rein in her wayward lips.

He returned carrying a sketchpad with actual paper.

When he shoved it at her, he waited, his expression showing his eagerness for her feedback.

She took a moment to savor the smoothness of the paper, swiping her thumb back and forth.

Then with a deep breath, she focused on his sketches.

She sniffed, picking up a hint of sweed—distilled seaweed.

They were done with ink. Thank the Lord. Charcoal cost a fortune.

Her gaze followed the vibrant strokes. The images were recognizable, from faces to metal trees, still life to landscapes. Potential was there. “Jamie… Wow. I didn’t know.” He could make it a career if he was serious. If he pursued this. If it wasn’t yet another phase.

He puffed out his chest and cradled his sketchbook. “Mom and Dad think I stand a good chance of being accepted.” He sank into his seat and placed the book on the table beside him. “Not all of us are smart enough to become doctors.”

She gritted her teeth. Every meal with her family resorted to this: that she dared dream of doing something meaningful with her life.

She’d been twelve when she revealed her dream to a favorite teacher.

Which had, in turn, reached her parents.

Dad had praised her. Mom had scoffed, solidifying Tiny’s determination to succeed.

“This meatloaf’s amazing, Mom,” Jamie crooned.

Dad’s was half-eaten; Tiny hadn’t had more than two mouthfuls. Mom, too.

Tiny drained her juice and rose. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You just got here,” Dad said, disappointment in his eyes.

“Sorry, Dad, studies come first.” With a kiss to his temple, she bolted for the door before anyone could say anything more.

“I’ll walk you down,” Jamie said, close on her heels.

She sighed, waited for the door to shut, then faced him. “How much?”

He leaned against the wall, folding his arms and crossing his legs at the ankles. “About a hundred should do it.”

She laughed. “Forget it. What I have I need.”

“Come on, Sis, for me.” He cupped her shoulders, giving them a squeeze while flashing his most charming smile. It had stopped working on her a decade ago.

“I wasted tokens on a taxi to get here, so no, no, no.” She stomped off. “Find some other way to fund your addictions or grow up and get a job.”

He didn’t follow her, for once not nagging her all the way down to the lobby and pleading while she waited for another taxi until she finally shut the vehicle’s door on his pouting.

She sagged against the seat, twitched her toes in her too-tight boots, and gazed ahead.

Only a windscreen with a smooth dash filled her vision while the autodrive shot along the roads to her dorm.

Alone, at last, she planned the rest of her evening. Some much-needed confectionery would be a good start.