Page 11 of Needed in the Night (The Fortusian Mates, #2)

MIKAS

“Stay away from the singer,” Nubo grated, his enormous blue fist striking the top of his desk hard enough for me to feel the vibration through the floor and my boots. “I have told you this before. I will not tell you again.”

In my imagination, I crumpled this pompous thug into a lump of broken bones and flesh and tossed him into the closest refuse chute. It was not the first time I had fantasized about doing so.

“The Hardanian touched her. Twice,” I said instead, without inflection in my voice. “After she had told him to go away. Did you not expressly state that no one may lay a hand on her?”

“This is not about the Hardanian.” Nubo sat in his throne-like chair, his webbed fingers gripping the armrests. “Despite my warnings, you still want Isla Mair for yourself. I see it in your eyes when you look at her.”

“I only want to do my job and keep her safe from unruly patrons.” I folded my hands behind my back so I was less tempted to wrap them around Nubo’s throat.

“Isla is pretty by human standards, but I am Fortusian. I am not interested in delicate human women. She is my friend and my colleague only. I simply had to make an example of the Hardanian so everyone in the bar knows you do not permit such behavior.”

Nubo studied me. “Go on.”

“Zaa’ga is known for the quality of its service, drinks, and environment,” I continued, since flattery always worked better on Nubo than simple denial.

“If customers want to act badly, they can go elsewhere. I am thinking only of your reputation and of your singer’s safety.

If Isla does not feel safe here, she may not stay.

Human women are notoriously weak and fearful. ”

Isla was nothing of the sort, of course, but my life and hers depended on keeping Nubo convinced I thought of her only as a vulnerable friend and coworker who needed saving from drunken patrons. I would say or do whatever was necessary to protect her.

Nubo tapped his fingers on his chair. “This is true,” he mused. “Security is an important matter for her. On the day she applied for the position, she asked for your candid opinion on whether she would be safe working here and living in an apartment in this building.”

“Yes, she did, sir.” The honorific tasted bitter on my tongue. “That is why I acted so swiftly tonight.”

“Very well.” Nubo sat back in his chair. “If I see further evidence of any feelings for Isla, you will not only be out of a job—you will be running for an off-world transport with my wingwolves on your heels. Am I clear?”

Kill him , my instincts urged. My belly roiled as if it were full of angry insects. Kill him. He means her harm .

Nubo wanted Isla for his own, but according to my sources, her murky past had forced him to bide his time. He could not make a move on her until he knew who she was—who she really was .

A man in his position had to be cautious.

She might have come here under false pretenses.

She might have been sent by an enemy. He wanted to confirm her story that she was an orphaned human with no family and no connections, simply looking for work.

And if that was the case, he would take her away, make her his captive, force her to be his. He had done it before with others.

To my trained eyes, lovely Isla was clearly not who she pretended to be.

Her watchfulness, the way she evaluated everyone who came into the bar like a soldier sizing up an adversary, how she never panicked when someone like the Hardanian confronted her, her faithful shadowbat companion…

it all added up to an unavoidable conclusion: Isla was far from weak or fearful.

That fact offered me very little solace. If Nubo came to the same realization, he would kill her. Well, he would have her killed. Men like Nubo Wex did not live so freely or for so long by getting their own hands dirty.

By all the gods, this scum would never lay a hand on Isla. Not as long as I had breath in my body. But I could not allow him to so much as glimpse the truth of what I kept hidden in my hearts.

“You are most clear,” I said, with another deferential nod. “And understood.”

“Good.” Nubo switched on his wall vidscreen, which showed a dozen live views of the bar’s interior. “The bar can run on auto for the remainder of the night,” he added, his thick lips twisting into a smirk. “I think you need to take some time to think about your situation.”

In other words, as punishment for his suspicions about my feelings for Isla, no more wages or tips tonight.

Five more hours of work, surrounded by increasingly inebriated tourists wandering in from the boulevard, would have meant hundreds of credits in tips I would have put toward my future escape with my mate.

“Good night, then,” I said, an edge of anger in my tone. I did not try to suppress it. Nubo would expect a reaction after cutting my work hours short. His smug smile reignited my desire to crush him with my bare hands. At least if he was smug about punishing me, he was less suspicious.

He would also be self-satisfied about making me angry. I did not anger easily—at least, not outwardly. On the outside, I was as hard and immovable as Vorcian marble.

Inside, I was volcanic. I was a raging thunderstorm. In my soul, I roared like a beast in the night.

I turned on my heel and left Nubo’s office with his chuckle following me out. Rage made my hands shake and ears ring.

But the moment I stepped into the hallway and the office door closed and locked behind me, everything changed.

Isla’s scent was everywhere, swirling around me, filling my lungs until her sweet smell turned my soul peaceful once more. My beastly hearts quieted, and my fury and hate dissipated like a puff of smoke in a strong wind.

My nose told me Isla had come this way only minutes ago on her way to the lift and stairway that accessed the residential levels above the bar. A scent this strong meant she had paused outside the door.

She could not have overheard our conversation—no sounds from inside the office reached the hallway. And yet she had lingered before going on. Why?

She had seen Nubo order me to come to his office.

I had sensed her gaze on me as clearly as I felt the ache in my right leg from standing for so long behind the bar.

Had she wondered about the confrontation?

Been concerned about its cause? Had she worried about my welfare? The thought warmed my hearts.

Gods, I hated Nubo, but I hated myself more because I had not found a way to close the distance between myself and my lovely mate.

For nearly three months I had been Isla’s friend, as much as I could with Nubo watching our every move. For three months, she had sat across the bar from me, conversing or lost in thought, and I could not touch her or even speak with too much friendliness without endangering us both.

Danger to myself, I welcomed. But danger to the one whose every breath filled me with joy and reason for being, for whom I yearned with every beat of my hearts, I could not bear.

Tonight, I could have torn the Hardanian limb from limb for touching her without her permission.

He was lucky to have staggered away down the street supported by his brothers, muttering curses and coughing.

Doubly lucky, considering the dagger Isla had concealed as the Hardanian loomed over her.

That dagger stayed on her right forearm at all times, in a sheath, ready to drop into her hand in the blink of an eye.

She took great pains to keep it hidden, but I had noticed its outline.

No, Isla was not at all who she appeared to be. She was infinitely, wonderfully more.

I shook myself out of my reverie and considered what I might do with my time off.

I could stay in my apartment upstairs, alone with my thoughts.

I could go out, try to distract myself with liquors or entertainment, which in the resort city of Onat’ras were available all hours of the day and night.

But even as I considered that option, I knew it would do no good.

My mind would be filled with dreams and visions of Isla wherever I went.

At least if I were here, close by, it eased the churning in my gut.

Decision made, I headed down the hall away from the bar and toward the stairs, following the faint traces of Isla’s passage.

Her scent had an angry note, a kind of sharpness that made my spines bristle and nose twitch.

She was supposed to stay in the bar and chat with patrons for at least another half hour, but she had left not long after Nubo called me into the meeting.

Something had caused her to ignore her contractual obligations. Illness? Overwhelming emotions?

Thankfully, I did not smell sickness or tears. I could not bear the thought of her weeping. Perhaps she was angry about the Hardanians’ rudeness and decided she did not want to remain in the bar in the aftermath of their inexcusable behavior.

Under the watchful eyes of Nubo’s extensive surveillance system, I stalked to the stairs, scanned my palm to gain access to the residential floors, climbed to the fourth level, and continued down the stark white corridor, past Isla’s apartment to my own near the end of the hall.

These apartments were small, but the area was well-kept and relatively safe.

I had been if not happy, at least comfortable here, pouring drinks and killing time, until Isla arrived.

Now I spent my days veering wildly from aching need when she was not near to longing mixed with contentment when she was.

I paused outside my apartment door, my hand halfway to the scanner.

We all long for something , Isla had said tonight, her lips turned up in a faint smile that looked sad and maybe a little bitter.

Gods, if she only knew.

I pressed my palm to the scanner, waited for the door to slide open, and started to go inside.

“Mikas?”

For a moment, I thought I had imagined her voice. But when I turned, Isla stood in the corridor outside her apartment, and she was smiling at me. My breath hitched.

She was so lovely—like a nebula, or a sun. She had changed from her gown into a short dress with long sleeves and left her rainbow-colored hair loose down her back. An empty cross-body shopping bag hinted at her plans.

Mindful of the eyes and ears of Nubo’s surveillance system, I drew myself up, folded my hands behind my back, and gave her a nod.

“Isla.” Her name felt like music on my tongue.

I cleared my throat and forced myself to sound merely polite when I added, “I did not have a chance to confirm that you are unharmed.”

“Thanks to you, I’m fine.” Her smile turned rueful, and she fidgeted. “Thank you for intervening. I didn’t know what to do when he didn’t back off. Hardanians are scary.”

Anyone watching or listening to her now would think the incident had shaken her deeply. But I had looked into her eyes in the moment, and if she had been truly scared of the Hardanian or his companions, I would eat my boots and wash them down with rotgut Raxian liquor.

She was, among other things, a consummate actress. I would wager her life depended on her ability to fool those around her.

“They are,” I said, very seriously. “Especially to human women. Thankfully, our employer has strict rules about patron behavior and no tolerance for anyone who assaults an employee.”

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly when I referenced our employer, but she managed a shaky smile for the benefit of the surveillance.

“Yes, I’m very thankful to Nubo for providing a safe work environment for us.

And speaking of safety…” She gestured at her shopping bag.

“Can I beg a favor? I need to go shopping at the market, and I feel vulnerable right now after my narrow escape. If you could come with me, I would be really grateful. It won’t take long.

Maybe you need to buy a few things too?”

I would have felt less precarious walking across a minefield. In fact, I saw little appreciable difference between that and Isla’s request.

“Please,” she said, and now her lower lip trembled. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I really need a friend. Or even a kind colleague. ”

I did not see or smell actual tears, but my resolve crumbled to dust at the mere thought of my mate weeping.

Gods above, I was utterly lost.

Acting as a kind colleague and bodyguard during a shopping trip with Isla was not precisely the opposite of what Nubo had ordered me to do, but damned close.

Isla had asked me to go with her, though, and if he overheard the conversation, surely I could not be faulted for giving in.

She had pleaded with me. If I refused, been unkind, that might be more suspicious than agreeing.

And more importantly, why did Isla want me to go with her to the market? If it was not because she was truly shaken, what might her motive be? I did not know, but I must find out.

“I do need a few items.” I glanced down at my bare chest. “Give me a few minutes to change.”

My attire—or lack thereof—was perfect for tending bar, and probably would not raise any eyebrows at the local market, but I did not want to attract attention I would be forced to rebuff. My hearts, body, and soul belonged to Isla alone.

“Oh, thank you so much, Mikas.” Her smile returned. “You’re so kind. Take your time. I’ll wait in my apartment.”

I gave her a brusque nod. “All right.”

Once she returned to relative safety, I entered my own living quarters. With the door shut and locked against prying eyes and ears, I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

Safely away from the bar, perhaps I could… hint at how I felt. See if she might find my attentions agreeable. The prospect made my hearts race.

Right behind my rush of anticipation came trepidation. She thought of me as a friend. I was her friend. If she did not want more than that, I risked losing our friendship.

For months, I had stood on this precipice, teetering on its edge, buffeted on every side by desires, dangers, and unease. Beyond lay the joy of life with my true mate, or a plunge into nothingness.

I took a deep breath, exhaled, and snarled at myself.

I had served as a soldier. Fought on battlefields on distant worlds and risked my life—and nearly died—for causes far less precious to me than Isla. If I could do that, I could do this. I could take this step.

First, though, I had to change my pants and put on a shirt.