Page 15 of Needed in the Night (The Fortusian Mates, #2)

“How about returning the favor?” I asked.

He tilted his head. “How do you mean?”

“Something’s been bothering you.” I curled up against the arm of the sofa to bring myself closer to him.

“The other reason I wanted to bring you here is so you could tell me what’s made you so grim lately.

I’m sure you don’t want to say anything in the bar, but I’m here to listen. I can keep secrets too.”

Mikas bowed his head, obviously struggling with himself over what to say and how to say it. I might have been hurt by his reluctance if I didn’t know how painful secrets could be. He’d been a conscripted soldier, so he probably had nightmares in his past I couldn’t dream of.

“Does it have anything to do with the Atolani female who was at the bar tonight?” I prompted gently. “Did you know her from before?”

“Yes.” He raised his head, his expression dark with memories. “I knew her from my time in the Cludian Corps. I had not seen her or even thought of her since. She bears a grudge at how we parted ways…and because I refused to join a mercenary squad with her after our service ended.”

Well, that explanation fit with my assessment of the Atolani. My instincts had warned me loud and clear at the sight of her that she was untrustworthy and dangerous. Everything about her oozed menace.

Reading between the lines, they had once been a couple, or at least had an intimate relationship.

At the thought of Mikas being close to the Atolani female, I felt a little stab of something.

Not jealousy, which would have made no sense—more like protectiveness and a lot of indignation at the ridiculous thought that kind, honest Mikas would sign up to be a mercenary .

“She wanted you to be a raider?” I demanded. “ You? ”

“Yes.” To my surprise, the corners of his mouth turned up. “You do not see me as a likely candidate for that life?”

“No!” The very thought turned my stomach. “Not at all. Mercenaries are nothing more than thieves and cold-blooded killers. How could she have even thought you’d want that?”

“I do not know,” Mikas said. He seemed pleased by my reaction.

Maybe he liked that I had a better sense of who he was than the Atolani female did.

“Once my injuries healed, I returned here to my homeworld,” he added.

“To a peaceful life and an honest profession. I may not be wealthy, but I am content.”

“How did you end up working for Nubo?” I asked. “You’re such a good man. And he’s…not.”

Once again, he smiled. Three smiles in less than an hour. A record.

“Why did you accept his job offer?” Mikas countered. “You surely knew what kind of man he is.”

It was my turn to smile. “A fair point. I needed the job. I’d had a lot of auditions before that one, and no one in Onat’ras was interested in a human singer. I’d given up, honestly…and then I saw the job notice and told myself I’d try one more time.”

His smile faded. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought his skin paled a little.

“So you almost did not come to Zaa’ga to audition?” he asked.

“I almost didn’t,” I admitted. “I argued with myself. But Brae said I should try or I’d always wonder if this job was the one that was meant to be.” At his quizzical expression, I added, “Brae is my shadowbat.”

“Ah.” He laced his fingers between his knees, his expression grave. “I owe a great debt to Brae, then.”

It was so wonderful to finally know for sure how much Mikas valued our friendship .

“I owe him too.” I smiled. “I would have missed out on a good-paying job, a safe place to live, and a good friend.”

I started to added something about Brae, then stopped. Wait. Mikas had said he hadn’t thought about the Atolani female until she appeared in the bar tonight, so that wasn’t what had been bothering him lately.

“So, what—” I started to say.

“Isla—” Mikas began at the same time, then fell silent.

“Go on,” I said, smiling to encourage him. “I’m listening. We’ve still got plenty of time before we’ll need to leave the shop.”

He took a deep breath and started to speak.

His wristcomm beeped twice. He glanced at the screen and snarled. I jumped a little at the sound.

I’d never heard him snarl like that—not even when patrons caused trouble. In the bar, his growls had more of a warning note. This snarl was truly ferocious.

I touched his hand. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His enormous hands clenched into fists, and then he flexed his fingers. “Nubo says there is a problem with the drink kiosks,” he grated. “He requests that I return to work my shift.”

He very clearly didn’t believe it. Neither did I. The coincidence was too great. I’d bet my best boots if there really was a problem, Nubo had engineered it as an excuse to bring an end to our outing.

Gods, could I have nothing? Not even an hour of privacy and heart-to-heart conversation with my friend without our boss interfering?

If Mikas refused, it would arouse Nubo’s suspicions even more, though there was nothing more to our time together than two good friends looking for mutual comfort about our present and our pasts.

As much as we resented and hated Nubo, we didn’t need to make an enemy of him.

Judging by Mikas’s expression, his thoughts mirrored mine.

He sent a terse reply and turned off his wristcomm screen.

“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm again in an attempt to comfort him.

Mikas started to move away, possibly out of habit, but then seemed to remember we were in private and covered my hand with his much larger one.

“It will not always be like this,” he said, his voice quiet. “We will not always have to answer to him.”

“You have some plan to get us out of here?” I asked.

Only after the words came out did I notice he’d said we , and I’d said us . When had we become an us? And why did the thought warm my insides like a cup of hot tea?

Another flash of emotion in his eyes I couldn’t read. His hand squeezed mine, very gently. “Goals and dreams, but no plans,” he said. “Not yet.”

What did he mean by that? He wanted to figure out a way to get us both away from Nubo? How long had he been thinking about this?

If we had more time to talk, I would have asked him all those questions.

I would have asked again what was bothering him and where he might want to go if he left Onat’ras.

I might have confided how much I wanted to find a place where Brae and I could make a home and feel secure and comfortable and I wished he could find the same.

Instead, I picked up my shopping bag and quietly followed him out.