Page 12 of Needed in the Night (The Fortusian Mates, #2)
ISLA
Our trip to the market was the first time Mikas and I had socialized outside working hours.
I didn’t really need a bodyguard for this outing.
This sector of the city was relatively safe and very busy.
Floating globes provided soft light, drawing nighttime insects and ensuring no dark corners where danger could lurk.
But I had some questions for Mikas—questions that required us to leave our building, where Nubo’s surveillance meant everything we said or did was seen or overheard.
And I wanted to get to know him better, maybe even find out who he really was when he wasn’t being a bartender or bouncer.
Who was Mikas Auren? Even after three months and a hundred conversations, I couldn’t really say I knew, and that bothered me. A lot.
Despite his height and the length of his legs, Mikas kept his pace even with mine so I didn’t have to scurry to keep up. In fact, whenever I paused to marvel at something, he stopped too. And I marveled at everything .
Most cities on Fortusia, including this one, embraced eco-architecture, blending artificial construction with trees, grasses, gardens, and even rivers and waterfalls.
Onat’ras had as many beautiful natural spaces as buildings, streets, and walkways.
While large cities I’d visited on other planets were urbanized to the point of being nearly devoid of any wildlife or plants, here animals roamed the parks and soared overhead.
The air smelled fresh rather than full of urban odors that burned my eyes or made me sneeze.
If I had to live in hiding, Fortusia was at least a wondrous place to be.
At night, countless species of insects sang, buzzed, and glowed, dancing in the breeze among pedestrians and vehicles.
Brae ate so well here that he’d gotten plump.
We’d had too many dangerous and lean years for me not to enjoy the thump he made when he landed on furniture in my apartment, or the way his butt wiggled when he got ready to fly.
Tonight, my walk with Mikas from our building took us past one of my favorite locations: a waterfall that cascaded from a nearby tower and plunged twenty meters into a small lake.
With Mikas trailing behind, I left the busy walkway and crossed the damp, fragrant grass to the low stone border along the lake’s edge.
The wind shifted, bringing with it the scents of flowers and foliage and the cool mist from the waterfall.
I closed my eyes, tilted my head back to feel the moisture on my face, and inhaled the sweet, familiar smell of Fortusia’s pink-tinged fresh water. Heavenly.
In moments like this, I could almost forget why I’d come here in the first place and what I’d had to give up after my mission on Ngara blew up in my face.
The first month after I’d left my job as a Web operative, and even after I arrived on Fortusia, I’d struggled mightily to adjust to not being an operative anymore. Guilt and restlessness and nightmares about Ergin’s terrible death led to miserable days and sleepless nights .
But with each passing day—with every singing shift I worked and every evening I spent talking with Mikas over brandy and berries—my unhappiness, regret, and guilt faded to a dull ache that eventually gave way to a new yearning.
Now more than anything I wanted a home. Peace and quiet.
Stability, safety, and happiness. To sing five nights a week, wear lovely dresses, earn good money, and watch Brae get fat on insects.
All the things life as a Web operative would never allow.
When I pictured Brae and I with our own home, I could convince myself I’d done enough for the Web and making a new life was possible.
The waterfall’s sweet vapor cooled my face and the wind smelled of flowers. All my memories of cages and plasma rifle wounds seemed light-years and a lifetime away. I licked my lips to taste the cool mist.
Mikas made an odd sound. Had he just taken a shaky breath?
I opened my eyes and found him beside me at the wall, hands at his sides, facing the walkway behind us. Watchful, stoic, and as far as I could tell not at all interested in the lake or waterfall or any other wonder of the cityscape.
Yes, this was his homeworld, so maybe nothing about Onat’ras seemed remarkable to him.
Or maybe he was taking his job of bodyguard far more seriously than I’d intended.
If I’d known he would treat our walk as a deadly serious mission, I might have come up with another excuse to get him to come with me to the market.
I should try to draw him into conversation. I hadn’t intended for this outing to be a chore for him.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” I pointed out a massive tree with purple foliage growing in a grassy park across the lake. “What kind is it? Do you know?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “It is called oth’canto,” he said very matter-of-factly. His tone softened when he added, “They live to be thousands of years old. They are the longest-lived organisms on this world.”
His voice was so deep and soothing. I wished I could get him to talk more, and more often.
I spotted a familiar grim-faced human woman on the walkway, pretending to study the city’s colorful skyline over our heads. I clenched my fists in irritation. Damn it. As usual, Nubo had sent someone to follow us—or to follow me , anyway. I doubted he’d have any reason to keep an eye on Mikas.
This was an ongoing argument, one I had yet to win.
Whenever I asked Nubo not to have someone follow me whenever I left the building where I lived and worked, he reminded me I’d expressed concern about my safety when I first applied for my singing job.
He claimed he was concerned for my welfare, but we both knew this wasn’t really about my safety, or not entirely about my safety.
He was controlling and possessive. He wanted to know where I was, and what I was doing, and who I was with. I hated being watched.
Once I had enough money saved up, I could relocate, but I dreaded uprooting myself yet again and searching for another job.
I’d auditioned for nearly a dozen gigs before Nubo hired me, and I made good money at Zaa’ga.
That plus my friendship with Mikas were the primary reasons I gritted my teeth and put up with Nubo’s surveillance.
I’d given my watchers nicknames so I could tell Brae who followed me each time. This was Scar, so-called because of the jagged mark that ran along her entire jawline on the right side of her face.
I wanted to ask Mikas about the Atolani female, or even just ask what was on his mind that had made him grumpier than usual tonight. But if Scar had eavesdropping tech, we might be overheard. So instead I admired the oth’canto tree and then we resumed our walk.
Mikas had swapped his work attire for very nondescript— and even unflattering—gray pants and a plain black shirt with openings designed to accommodate his spines.
Even so, his height, physique, and looks attracted admiring looks from a variety of species, sexes, and genders as we made our way from our building four streets over to my favorite market.
He must have noticed all the attention, but he ignored it.
But why? In my experience, men this good-looking, who clearly spent time and energy eating well, staying healthy, and maintaining their body, enjoyed being noticed.
Then again, Mikas wasn’t typical in a lot of ways.
“What is on your shopping list tonight?” he asked as the market’s enormous sign came into sight.
“Food, for one thing,” I said, waving in the direction of the market.
“I’m bored with what I have in my apartment.
I want to find something unusual that’s still within my ability to cook.
I’d also like to buy some perfume at that little shop on the far end of the market—the one with purple lights and little trees out front. ”
Mikas’s brow furrowed. “Perfume?”
Maybe I didn’t seem like the type to like perfume. “I rarely wear perfume,” I admitted. “But I’ve always dreamed of having real Engareni perfume.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to catch himself. “I am intrigued,” he said instead. “So, do you enjoy cooking?”
“I do, now that I have an apartment with a kitchen.” I smiled. “I don’t just live on brandy and jampa berries, you know.”
“I suspected as much.” He gave me a fleeting smile before returning his attention to our surroundings.
As long as I’d known him, Mikas had been about as chatty as a Bacorian monk. During our first conversation, in fact, he’d spoken only three words. And though he was always polite and thoughtful, he rarely smiled and never laughed.
On my first night working at the bar, he’d asked me about myself and listened attentively to my cover story of being an orphan without family who’d drifted around the galaxy until I ended up on Fortusia.
And every evening since, he’d hung on my every word, regardless of the topic I chose for our chats after I finished my sets.
Mikas had volunteered some information about his past too when I asked.
He’d served as a conscripted soldier and received an honorable discharge after a serious injury in battle.
Why exactly he’d chosen bartending for a civilian career, I didn’t know.
And why he would work for a thug like Nubo Wex, of all people, was an even greater mystery.
I certainly couldn’t ask him about it at the bar with our boss listening in.
My gut told me Mikas wasn’t as grim and humorless as he seemed. The omnipresent shadows in his eyes and a heaviness about him made it clear something weighed on him. I had yet to find a way to get him to tell me why he was so despondent. I’d give a lot to see my friend happy.
“What about you?” I asked, still hoping to draw him into a conversation despite Scar’s presence. “What are you looking for at the market? Or are you not going to buy anything?”