Page 289 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Tori

Walking through the Yengar Space Station on my own was probably one of the scariest and dumbest things I’d ever done. What was I thinking? That I could help Eoin out here? Little, lonesome me, whose skills were cooking and singing, neither of which were useful in a fight.

My hair and figure, obscured by the long black scarf, gave me a sense of security; I wasn’t drawing any unwanted attention so far.

With my hand firmly wrapped around the laser pistol I’d borrowed from Camila, I felt marginally safer, too.

If anyone tried anything, I’d shoot them in the gut, no questions asked.

I hated that I’d left Novalee behind with Aggy, but my baby girl could handle it, she liked Aggy’s kids.

Right now, it was important that I followed my instincts, and everything in me was telling me that Eoin needed backup—that I had to get to him.

He’d nearly died only a few days ago, and no matter how often he and the Doc assured me that he was fine now, I didn’t believe it.

Nobody was fine after getting shocked with that much electricity; there was just no way.

Ducking around three large, lumbering aliens with thick, gray skin like an elephant’s, I paused between two little stalls.

Vendors lined all the dirty, neon-lit hallways of this section of the station, loudly hawking their wares.

I’d seen stalls with things that looked lovely, like clothing, fabrics, jewelry, and exotic food.

Plenty of vendors sold weapons or foul-smelling brews, herbs, and meats.

Sometimes I’d pass a stand and have to fight the urge to vomit.

Checking the handheld scanner I had taken from Sunder, I located the dot of Eoin’s com device and traced the route.

I was still going in the right direction; I just needed to hurry, or I’d never catch up to him.

I stifled the feeling of guilt over having borrowed something from the man who was practically a father to me.

Sunder was going to be so angry with me for leaving the safety of the Vagabond, and so was Eoin, but he could deal.

I was leaving the market area now, the hallways growing even narrower and darker.

The few lights that glowed along the walls were either dirty and dim or had been smashed completely, leaving large pools of blackness between each one.

In my head, I chanted the advice Camila had given me before I’d undertaken this adventure.

Looking confident was key, so I made sure my stride reflected that—neither too fast nor too slow, my head pointed forward, not down at my feet like I wanted to do.

My nerves made me want to pause and check the scanner for Eoin’s location at every intersection, but pausing was dangerous, I had to hurry or I’d lose him.

So I memorized where I had to go as quickly as I could, only stopping when I worried I’d get myself lost. I had the feeling people were following me, large, big men in black armor.

It was only a little farther; maybe it was just a coincidence. Eoin was nearby. I could make it.

The neon letters above the glowing doorway were in some kind of alien script I couldn’t read, but the appearance of the place made it obvious anyway: a bar, a dive, at that.

There were three windows next to the door glowing with light, but the panes were grimy and dirty, and alien graffiti had been sprayed over them.

My scanner said that Eoin was inside this place; I’d just missed him, as he’d meandered through the station at a much slower pace than my own.

Daring a quick look over my shoulder, I saw no sign of the dark-clad aliens that I thought had been following me.

I pulled open the door, ducked through the doorway, and was smacked in the face by a blast of sweaty, stale air.

Wrinkling my nose, I tried to breathe through my mouth, but the air was thick in here with unpleasant smells.

Unwashed bodies—mostly of the male variety—smoke, and the thick scent of Roka brew, a drug particularly favored by the shark-like Rummicaron, filled the air.

I could see a bar down one side with barstools, the bartender a four-armed Pretorian, the same species as Jakar.

Most of the room featured tables set in alcoves, dark and shadowy so that each table had privacy.

Eoin was standing right in front of me, his wide shoulders filling up my view unless I leaned a little to the side to look around him.

The short, rough hair on his head glistened silver in the low light, the sharp, square angle of his jaw glittering with the barest hint of stubble.

My tongue seemed stuck to the roof of my mouth, my throat aching with the urge to say something that wasn’t making it past my lips.

He swung his head around, those swirling mercury eyes of his piercing me with a glare.

I tried not to flinch in response, firming my chin so I could meet that glare head-on.

I was done with guys hovering over me, coddling me until I felt smothered.

I had five brothers on Earth who did that all the time; I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

That was hard when I wasn’t a strong warrior like Camila or a brash, confident woman like Abigail.

I looked up at them, wishing I could be brave the way they were, but I still tripped over my tongue and blushed as soon as anyone even looked my way.

I hated that my skin was fair enough that the red showed like one of those neon signs outside.

“Tori! What are you doing here?” he hissed at me through clenched teeth.

The strong column of his neck was defined by tendons, his jaw jutting out and looking sharp enough to cut, especially since his skin shimmered in silvers and blues, like steel.

“This is no place for you!” he added, and I forgot all about being mesmerized by how pretty he was.

“Don’t talk to me like that! I can go wherever I want!

” I snapped at him, my hackles up at the way he was talking down to me.

See, this was why we hadn’t worked out that one semi-drunk night a couple of months ago.

Eoin just couldn’t stop treating me like I was made of glass.

Okay, he’d been sorta drunk, I’d been far too sober, and I still remembered every delicious detail.

That made it really difficult to stand up to him.

Biting my lip, I had to concede that this freaking dive was the last place I really wanted to be. It was dark, gloomy, and utterly disgusting. I wasn’t going to touch any drink or food coming out of this kitchen with a ten-foot pole.

“And I want to be with you. You nearly died, Eoin. You’re not invincible,” I added when I saw how his eyes took on this intense cast. That was why I’d come here, after all, my worry that something bad was going to happen to him if someone didn’t watch his back.

He wanted to argue with me more, but he needed my help today. I’d show him.

His expression was softer when he denied not being at the top of his game again.

I’d heard the excuses a million times already, but I didn’t believe him.

He was thinner than before; something wasn’t quite right.

He wasn’t going to convince me otherwise.

Then he had to go and ruin the moment by saying, “This isn’t a safe place for you. Someone could try to steal you!”

From the way his eyes quickly darted around the dive bar—lingering on some of the visitors—and the tense set of his shoulders, I knew he was genuinely worried.

That’s what sucked so much: he was right.

Being a human out in the Zeta Quadrant was dangerous; any unscrupulous alien could just decide to kidnap me to make some money.

Eoin wasn’t wrong for worrying, especially in a place like this.

That’s why we needed to help each other.

Besides, I was done sitting on the sidelines.

I’d once had my whole destiny in my hands, I wanted that feeling back.

“I have your back, you have mine,” I said, full of determination.

Lifting my black scarf away from my hip, I showed him that I’d come prepared; I wasn’t unarmed.

“I might as well stay now. How are you going to get a human to trust you if you find one? You need me.” I smirked at him when I could tell my argument was working.

Eoin had experience rescuing slaves; he knew how hard it was to gain their trust.

He capitulated gracelessly, but I’d forgive him for that.

My body was soaring with exhilaration over being allowed to stay.

He threw his arm around my shoulder, yanking me into his side, and all my nerve endings lit up.

The heat from his body blasted into mine like he was a furnace, and I felt the weight of his muscular arm around me.

The press of his hip against my side. At all points of contact, I was simply tingling.

There was no one who affected me quite like that.

It always confused me that I wasn’t feeling shy around him when he had this kind of effect.

We walked across the room, things crunching beneath my snazzy purple boots that I didn’t want to contemplate.

Then I hopped onto a leather bar stool, the material cracked and worn but at least clean.

My eyes scanned the bartender, who worked the bar with his four arms at astonishing speeds.

Pouring drinks, shaking something with another hand, and wiping at a spill on the bar with a smudged cloth.

The last was a rather fruitless endeavor if you asked me, this place was filthy.