Page 4

Chapter one

Shitty Luck

Rusty

Present Day

It was raining in Lust again, and Rusty hated the rain.

He hated the way it soaked through his clothes, the way it weighed down his fur until he looked like a drowned rodent.

He hated how it seeped through the layers of skin and muscle and settled deep and cold in his bones.

More than anything, he hated how much the rain reminded him of bittersweet memories that made his chest ache with longing.

Rusty hadn’t always hated the rain. In fact, he used to love it, if for no other reason than because his mother had loved it. And he’d loved his mother more than he’d ever loved anything.

Every time it stormed, she used to wake him up, regardless of the late hour, and they’d sit outside their little shack on the outskirts of the district limits, listening to the patter of water on the metal roof and the crash of thunder overhead.

His mother would bundle him in her lap and groom his fur as he watched lightning streak across the sky.

“The gods are battling again,” she’d say, scratching between his ears, and he’d gaze up at her in awe, believing every word. Because he was a child, and she was his mother. And gods, how he loved her so.

It didn’t matter that they were poor. It didn’t matter that everyone looked down their noses at them when they walked through the market. It didn’t matter that he ate lunch alone at school, already rejected by his peers for his ratty clothes and his Pyclese dialect.

Rusty had his mother, and that was all he needed.

He didn’t care that she was a dancer at the local strip joint.

Or that sometimes, when money was tight, strange men would come around, and he’d have to leave the shack until their business was done.

Or that his only friends consisted of the tiny creatures he’d find burrowed in the sand or hiding under the bark of the dry, dying trees that the desert had claimed long ago.

He didn’t care because the other dancers at his mother’s job were nice to him when she’d leave him backstage with a well-worn comic book or a graphic novel she’d bought at the second-hand store for his birthday.

They’d give him treats and compliment his pink fur—although he didn’t actually know what pink was the way everyone else seemed to.

They’d tell him how handsome he was, and how they couldn’t wait to see him grow up good and strong.

He didn’t care because the men never stayed long, and they never hurt him or his mom—at least, not in ways she ever showed.

If he wandered back to the shack as they were leaving, tucking their shirts into their waistbands or zipping up their trousers, they’d give his shoulder a well-meaning cuff or slip a few myrels into his hand, saying, “Now, don’t you go spending that all in one place, you hear? ”

He didn’t care because even as a kit, Rusty hadn’t exactly liked people and having friends wasn’t high on his list of priorities.

He preferred the little bugs that skittered into the knots in the trees or the furry creatures that raced across the sand dunes as he chased them down, squealing with laughter.

They were always nicer than the people he encountered in town anyway.

Honestly, his mom was enough for him. They were two seeds in a koca pod, as his mother would say, and that was just fine by him.

So, yes, Rusty had loved the rain, once upon a time. Back when his mother had been happy. And healthy. And alive. But then she’d died, and she’d taken every ounce of wonder and hope and love with her.

Now, when it rained, it put Rusty in a terrible fucking mood.

Hunching his shoulders against the dreary drizzle, he tucked his paws into his pockets and ducked his head, flicking excess water off his ears.

Puddles accumulated in the cracks in the sidewalk, and he avoided them as best he could as he headed back toward his neighborhood.

He hadn’t bothered checking the weather before heading out on one of his nightly walks, and now, he was paying the price for his negligence.

He didn’t sleep much in general, and he hated his roommates almost as much as the shitty flat they all shared.

So instead of lying awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling as his roommates got high on gods-knew-what in the living room, he’d head out into the night and walk.

Thanks to his roaming, he knew Lust like the back of his hand.

He knew which side streets to steer clear of, and which alleys were the most popular for drug deals.

He knew which S-workers worked which corners, and what brothels to avoid if he didn’t want to run into any old customers.

He had several escape routes mapped out in his head at any given moment in case he ran into trouble .

Not that he ever went looking for it, but trouble had a knack for finding him, one way or another.

Like his internal musings had somehow manifested them, a trio of braying men turned the corner ahead of him, and he slowed to a stop under the awning of a 24-7 mini-market.

He faced the window display, tracking the group from the corner of his eye as they approached, stumbling drunkenly as they laughed about something he hadn’t heard.

Two Elas and a Gymnot, all three bigger than Rusty—not that it took much to be bigger than him.

He wasn’t insecure about his height, or lack thereof, but the disadvantage when it came to self-defense was annoying.

Sure, he couldn’t win in a fight using brute force, but he was fast and scrappy.

It was usually enough to get him out of a jam when necessary.

He hoped the trio would pass without noticing him, but instead, they staggered to the bus stop a few yards ahead of him.

It was empty save for a Nyko girl huddled in the corner, taking refuge from the rain.

The glow of her phone lit her face, highlighting the tightness of her features as she shuffled farther away from the obnoxious men.

Dread settled low and heavy in his gut as the Gymnot knocked one of the Elas’s arms and jerked his chin in the direction of the girl. The Elas with gray skin and white hair smiled, all jagged teeth, and waggled his eyebrows at his friends as he turned toward the girl.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s a pretty thing like you doing out so late?”

The Nyko shrunk in on herself, her tail twisted around her ankle as she mumbled a barely audible, “Meeting friends.”

“Is that so?” the Elas said, giving his friends another shit-eating grin. “How about you hang out with us instead? We’re more fun than your friends, I’m sure.”

With a tight smile, the Nyko shook her head. “No thanks. ”

“Ooh, Hari, I don’t think she likes you,” the Gymnot snickered.

The Elas shot him a glare before he stepped closer to the girl, looming over her and essentially trapping her against the bus stop glass. “Come on, baby, don’t be like that.”

“Walk away,” Rusty’s brain instructed as he watched it all unfold. “ Not your problem. Not your fight. Just walk away.”

But he couldn’t. She was just a kid, for fuck’s sake. And Rusty knew what it was like to be that kid. Bigger, older men crowding him, leering down at him until he gave in to avoid further harm. It had rage bubbling to life in his gut.

“I have a boyfriend,” the girl was saying, voice shaking as she cowered away from the Elas called Hari.

“And he left you all alone out here?” Hari tutted. “I can treat you better than him. I’ll be so nice to you. You know, if you’re nice to me.”

“Oh, fuck this dick,” Rusty grumbled as he stalked back into the rain and made a beeline for the bus stop.

The second Elas noticed him first but dismissed him almost instantly. That was okay. Being underestimated worked in his favor most of the time. The Nyko’s eyes widened in alarm when she saw him, and he did his best to offer her a reassuring smile.

“Hey, babe, sorry I’m late,” he said as he jogged up to her, feigning familiarity as best as he could as he shouldered past Hari. The Nyko gaped down at him, and he shot her a subtle wink before he faced the three inebriated men. “Evening, fellas.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Hari demanded, and Rusty frowned.

“Excuse me? I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Rusty turned back to the Nyko and asked, “Sorry you had to wait for me. Are you ready to go? ”

She was still gawking, but when Rusty gave her a significant look, she blinked and nodded. “Uh, yeah, I’m ready. I was just… wondering where you were. Babe?”

Okay, she was not making this look natural, but it wasn’t her fault.

She was clearly rattled, and trusting him was just as much of a risk as taking her chances with the drunken assholes.

Without touching her, Rusty motioned for her to take the lead, trying for another comforting smile as he said, “Well, let’s get going. Don’t wanna keep the others waiting.”

It took her a moment to decide, but eventually, she shuffled back into the rain, sidling up to him without actually making contact. He hovered a hand at her back, giving the illusion that he was hugging her waist.

“Have a good night, fellas.” Rusty nodded at the group—Hari scowling deeply—then turned and ushered her down the sidewalk.

“What—”

“Shh,” Rusty cut her off quietly, knowing the Elas could still hear them. Louder, he said, “How was the bus ride? I know you get motion sick. You feeling okay?”

“Uh, yeah?” she said, clumsily hooking her arm around his until their elbows linked. She glanced down at him in panic, and he gave her an approving nod.

He continued to chat bullshit with her, and she offered minimal hummed responses as they turned the corner onto the next street. He glanced behind them briefly and saw the group leaving the bus stop in pursuit, and he cursed under his breath.

The moment they were out of sight, Rusty picked up his pace, half-dragging her with him. “They’re following us.”

“Oh my gods,” the girl whimpered .