Page 23 of Defiance (The Intersolar Union #7)

My favorite story was that very first one.

The arms master, a massive red venandi with short spires and a lot of pointy edges, got stuck in the vents on a crusade to smuggle porn chips into their shared quarters at the HIXBS flagship campus on Huajile. The staff had to tear out the wall to get him out, and the raucous was so disruptive that Novak was able to slip out for two straight days before his tracking cuff starting vibrating ominously. He ate stolen street food, snuck into a peep show, and smuggled not only porn chips, but also vapes, sodas, and snacks.

It was the first of many escapades out into the black markets. Novak ended up controlling the entire illicit supply chain among the lab orphans. He was also the defacto mafia don, the final say on anything in or out, including the hard stuff. Daz, alcohol, pamphlets about transferring ownership or exchanging ‘favors.’ He drew a hard line in the dirt over those things, cutting his teeth as a leader when he was just a lad himself.

When he told me about how he’d built up Gaul, the guild he’d taken the name for, I was as fascinated as I was appalled. Bullpens where anonymous clients got to put their hands on him for “donations”

that were really just a scam to prey on advenan men desperate for intimacy. Auctions to keep them in a controlled environment—cuffs and restraint tables, he’d finally admitted—for a buyer to milk him for several days to ensure the best draw.

He’d done the latter work for ten years, saving every scrap until Commander Atarian had snatched up Vindilus, and Vindilus had vouched for him. Ferulis admired his ruthless attitude, building his own guild, controlling supply chains, smuggling for the good of his wards.

I couldn’t decide if Novak was Peter Pan or Robin Hood, but either way, truly knowing him made me trip head over heels right off a cliff. Cupid stood on the beach below, arrow drawn and aimed right at my heart.

I needed a breather from the imp of love, so the next night, I printed a set of rudimentary trump cards and taught Novak how to play Gin Rummy. It was a failsafe for any crew of mariners trying to pass the idle nights away. No stories. No heavy gazes or pregnant pauses. Just colorful swearing and snack ransoms.

But he never stayed too late, excusing himself to go on a run or prescreen the places Sath had planned for us to go the next day. He felt the weight of something watching. I could tell from the way his ears flicked, one trained on the inner courtyard, the other on the lattice window. He never said anything, but he didn’t have to.

I was bait on a hook, and Novak had to cast his line.

Before leaving my room the night before the charity ball, he hesitated. He’d seen the medallion between my breasts when he came on my chest, and asked to take a closer look. I pulled it out for him and he lifted the little charm beside the medallion with his claw, canting his head.

“What is this?”

“An anchor,”

I’d explained.

“You drop it off the side of a boat to keep from drifting away.”

He’d stared at it for long enough that my heart skipped, bubbles of apprehension popping in my stomach. He’d tucked it back into my shirt with tenderness.

“I’ll make sure you don’t drift away.”

I’d nearly pulled him back in my room by the scruff.

The tension was killing me. I was probably dehydrated thanks to the pool between my legs. All day, every day, Novak distracted me. We shared glances more often, and he lingered longer at meals, making obnoxious changes to my order so that he could stay.

It needled Sath at first, but after Novak did it a second time, his expression grew more thoughtful. We were at a tea house when the agent noticed Sath’s undivided attention, his scales lifting with unease.

“No matter,”

he said after inspecting my pink bissit tea and suggesting he tasted flecks of haodish, which apparently wasn’t universal.

“I’m sure Mr La?we knows best. I’ll be outside.”

He slipped off the edge of the large stone-cut window nook, disturbing the privacy curtain as his tail slipped off the cushions to glide over the floor.

“No,”

I told him, grabbing his sleeve. Sath and I stared at each other, my heart in my throat.

“Stay, Novak. Have a cuppa.”

He went stiff, halfway off the pillows. Sath moved first, pulling another shiny teacup from the cabinet carved into the corner.

“Yes, my friend,”

he said.

“You must be parched.”

He took us to places with more private seating after that, inviting Novak to sit after our food had arrived. He ordered extra portions so that I could “try everything”

and then slid the additional plate in front of the agent instead.

Novak ate quickly and quietly, leaving the conversation to Sath and me, but wrapped his tail around my middle. It was possessive, deliberate, and the first time Sath saw it, he stumbled over his words. I kept chewing my food as if everything was normal, and he eased back into his story about a colony on Osu. As soon as Novak was done eating, he’d stand back up, unwind his tail, and return to his duties.

While I tapped the last bit of powder into my many freckles, my door bonged. Novak didn’t wait for me to respond before he entered.

“La?we is on the approach. He’ll be here in…”

Novak’s eyes rounded, before his lids fell heavy with appreciation.

“If you press those little spots of glitter into his cheeks, I’m going to carve them out of his skin.”

I grinned. “Jealous?”

“Extremely.”

“Shameless lizard,” I teased.

Sath had dropped us off in the afternoon and insisted on pressing his offer into my forehead again, right in front of Novak. A prospective spawning contract would turn heads and open hjarna cache accounts for human causes. A little sensationalism was good for marketing, wasn’t it? He’d made good sense, even if his smile was smug after I agreed.

Novak and I stood there in silence, drinking each other in.

“You’re beautiful, Charlie,”

he said simply, but nothing else. His gaze dragged down to my legs, appreciating the simple cut of mercurial peony pink that whispered against my calves and draped like wings over my shoulders. The neckline was wide, exposing my collarbones and an elegant scoop of my spine at the back.

“So are you,”

I told him.

He was wearing a dark aubergine uniform that caught the light like the finest of chainmails. Perhaps it was. Chevrons decorated the band collar and gold braid cut a diagonal across his right breast in two handsome lines. He wore a set of intricately engraved gold cuffs along the base of his tail and caps on the tips of his ears with a charm weighing down the center so that it brought them closer together. It gave him a more severe and otherworldly look, that glittering jewel dangling above his brow.

“Is that an anchor?”

I asked, blinking at the charm. Novak took a deep, steadying breath.

“I hope that’s alright.”

My saint’s medallion pressed against my breast next to the pin pricks left from Novak’s fangs. I rubbed my palm across my chest to feel them both with butterflies in my gut. Biting my lip, I pulled the necklace out and lifted it over my head.

“I want you to have it,”

I said, reaching for his neck. His ears flicked.

“You don’t need to—”

“Take it, Novak. I’m here for you even when the seas are rough, and I don’t want you to ever doubt it.”

I clasped the chain around his neck. It laid on the outside of his uniform like a medal, St Anthony and the anchor charm hanging just an inch below the base of his throat. Its gold matched his uniform, like he was meant to wear it.

“Ah, I see I’ve arrived right on time,”

Sath said, joining Novak at the threshold. Novak’s ears turned as he slid sideways. Sath held the doorway in one long, marigold hand bedecked in gold rings and a chain across his knuckles, admiring my dress.

“It’s not proper for you to drool, Novak.”

There was a moment of tension, then Sath struck a cavalier pose, examining his hands.

“Even if I do, yes, look especially appealing tonight. I already have a prospective spawning partner.”

I squawked with laughter and snorted, covering my mouth. Sath blushed, blinking slightly out of sync—a sign of nervousness. He smiled timidly, pulling down the fine tailoring of his formal coat.

Novak’s ears perked with surprise, then his tail swayed and he hissed a chuckle.

“I’ll do my best to hold myself back, La?we.”

He winked, balancing his hip on the doorway.

“No promises.”

Sath blew out a flustered sigh of relief and I realized that teasing Novak had felt dangerous to him. Like petting a tiger. I gave him an encouraging smile, topped off my lip gloss, and shooed them out into the courtyard.

“Let’s go, lads, or the refreshments will go before we even get there.”