Page 21 of Stars in Umbra (The Sable Riders #8)

A Night of Primal Rhythm

RINA

R ina tore through her wardrobe like a woman possessed.

She settled on a lithe jade jumpsuit that hugged her curves but moved like second skin, cinched at the waist, zipped just low enough to hint at trouble.

She pulled on knee-high heeled boots of soft, burnished leather.

She then braided a few pieces of her hair back, leaving the rest to fall in a dark, unruly wave over one shoulder.

She spritzed herself with her favorite scent and stepped out just as her suite doorbell rang.

She took a ragged inhale, tamped down the butterflies in the pit of her stomach, plastered on a smile, and sashayed to the door.

It swung open to reveal her date leaning one muscled deltoid against the wall of the entrance.

Fokk .

He was dressed all in black; casual, sleek, and devastating.

An inky tee hugged his biceps.

Dark jeans sagged on his hips, and his feet were in combat boots; laced loose and informal.

His skin was golden, lit by the hallway’s glow, his eyes already undressing her.

‘You’re going to get us arrested, mama,’ Mo rasped, his voice husky.

She smirked. ‘You’re one to talk.’

His gaze dropped to her high-heeled affair, then slid up, taking his time. ‘You make tactical sexy, Colonel.’

She didn’t have time to quip back before he was on her, pressing her up against the wall, mouth hot and demanding on hers.

She melted into him, gripping his shirt, parting her lips, meeting him with equal hunger.

When he tore away, his breath was rough as he kissed her forehead and whispered. ‘Later?’

She nodded, dazed.

Still reeling from their kiss, Rina just managed to grab her bag and jacket, then he led her, arm banded around her waist, into the elevator.

He kept her tight to his side as they rode it to the rooftop, to the Sable flight pad.

Set on the polished surface was a sleek, sports flyer, unlike any she’d ever seen before, in gunmetal and black, lethal, and screaming money.

‘What the fokk is that?’ Rina choked, for she was a secret lover of racing craft.

He arched a brow. ‘It’s a custom Sable Phantasma.’

‘Never heard of that model.’

‘I did say custom baby. It’s one I commissioned from the Riders. It flies like a dream and has won me a few races in the Eden Cup.’

Rina stalked to it and ran a hand over its matte body with reverence. ‘How fast?’

‘0 to 500 in under 3 seconds.’

‘Stop!’

He came up behind her, arms going around her, mouth to her neck. ‘Are we going to talk racers or are we going to take off?’

She turned so her lips met his. ‘Hell, in this ride, I will take off.’

His eyes flamed at her sensual suggestion. ‘This I’d like to witness, so get the fokk in.’

He opened the hatch and helped her into the passenger seat.

‘Strap in, mama,’ he rasped, tapping her ass in.

As she settled in, he rounded his flyer’s nose to take the helm with ease.

They lifted off, pushing away from the cityscape and the two rings of Eden II rotating beneath them.

Mo’s racer proved its mettle; it was custom-built for speed.

It cut through the sky like a blade, its curves pointed and predatory.

Mo showed off, pushing its speed to the limit, weaving between the lanes to the angry blaring of other flyers.

He canted his eyes to her. ‘You going off yet?’

She bit her lip and nodded, suppressing a whoop at the highs the racing speedster was giving her.

After a while, he slowed. ‘Can’t be caught speeding, mama,’ he growled, eyes slicing to Rina’s flushed face. ‘Last thing I need is a speeding ticket and my face plastered all over the holo news.’

‘It’d be a scorching hot scandal if you’re caught with me, the freakin’ leader of the Peace Corps.’

Their eyes locked and lingered as he chuckled, then Rina’s breath caught as he took her hand and kissed it, claiming it on his thigh.

Their trajectory climbed to a vast, glittering arc that wrapped around the planet’s upper atmosphere.

Alphetraz’s twin celestial orbs lit the heavens in gold and soft indigo, casting surreal shadows over the curve of the desert world below.

The flyer’s course shifted as Mo wove the vessel through the busy air lanes.

Underneath, the sprawling, crystalline spires of the Edenite moon capital glittered, highlighted against a vast cosmic canvas.

Mo guided them to a lower, less ostentatious cluster of glowing, interconnected towers nestled among smaller, residential buildings.

‘Where are we going?’ Rina murmured.

‘My home away from home.’

Mo’s rumble was a resonant sound that vibrated in the cabin.

He landed the flyer, and it settled onto a discreet, illuminated platform connected to one of the central spires.

When Rina’s feet hit the ground, Mo banded his hand around her waist.

They headed in the direction of a doorway built from burnished copper and dark, polished wood.

It was intertwined with glowing flora that pulsed with soft light.

A plain, elegant sign, etched in flowing Iccythrian script, read: ‘The Obsidian Hearth.’

‘This is it,’ Mo said, a rare, almost shy quality to his tone. ‘Our local Iccythrian hangout on Eden II. Nothing fancy, but it’s where we gather.’

The air inside was warm, scented with candles, simple and different from the metropolis’s manufactured perfection.

They stepped into a bustling, circular hall.

The place was packed with beautiful Iccythrians, mostly. Lithe, honey-skinned, and adorned with delicate, intricate jewel piercings.

Immediately, the hum of conversation slowed and became quiet as Mo entered.

Heads turned, whispers rose, like a rustling breeze through dry leaves.

Every single patron, shift to eye the couple.

Their gazes weren’t casual; they were a blend of surprise, awe, and a healthy dose of fear.

Mo, meanwhile, appeared oblivious, or perhaps used to the kind of regard they received.

Nonchalant and relaxed, he prowled forth like a king walking among his loyal, adoring subjects.

‘Molan,’ a deep voice called out. The couple turned.

A man loped toward them, long, black hair caught in a jewel-studded bun, with loose strands falling to his shoulders.

His beard was thick and braided, heavy with gold threads and gems that caught the firelight.

More glittering jewels were embedded above his brow, and a freakin expensive chain on his neck echoed the precious stones in his beard.

His robe, cut from obsidian silk, swirled with his movements, its hem brushing against polished ebony boots.

‘Damn, still rocking your rogue prince look,’ Mo teased as the newcomer pulled him into a fierce hug, clapping his back.

‘It works, doesn’t it?’ the pirate countered, his voice rolling like warm thunder.

Mo grinned. ‘Brother, this beauty with me is Rina,’ he said. ‘ A Colonel no less, so if you play around, she’ll fokk your shit up.

Duke threw his head back in a rumbling laugh. His grin was broad, knowing, and carefree, a grin of a man who won, lost, and wagered it all for the thrill.

His kohl-lined eyes studied her.

‘It’ll be worth it because saints save us, she’s radiant.’

Heat flared across Rina’s cheeks. She dipped her chin. ‘Radiant is a strong word, but I’ll take it.’

‘ Mi kaya , meet Soren Dukarat, AKA Duke, Iccythrian prince, fixer, and all-around scoundrel.’

The ridiculously handsome man bent over her hand and kissed it.

‘Rina smiled, her eyes immediately warming to Duke. ‘Quite the charmer too.’

With a grand sweep of his hand, Duke led them further inside. ‘Come, drinks are on me. First round only, mind you, so you don’t think I am too generous.’

He led them past the main bar, weaving through patrons who greeted him and Mo with claps, bows, and winks.

They sat at a secluded cubicle upholstered in rich, crimson velvet with a perfect view of the central floor where dancers twirled and musicians sent their rhythms across the room.

Duke flagged a server, ordered an Iccythrian spirit for Mo, a wine for Rina, and a platter of skewers glazed with spiced honey.

With a smile and bow, he excused himself. ‘Stay, drink, eat. This place is yours tonight. As for me, I must away, duty calls.’

He was gone, melting into the crowd with a predator’s ease. His grin flashed as he clasped shoulders, whispered to associates, and charmed every soul.

Rina leaned back in her chair, watching the pirate prince work the room like a king with no crown. She found herself smiling.

‘You’re quite the celebrity here,’ Rina murmured, leaning close to Mo.

He smirked, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. ‘My former profession gave me a certain reputation. Gun-running has a way of doing that among our clans. We value morally gray edges and the individuals who command them, and for a season, I delivered.’

‘Still do, from the looks you’re getting.’

It became apparent that Mo had the kind of gravitas that didn’t need to book a table at this place.

As they settled in, several other Iccythrians approached Mo.

They were impossibly graceful, their movements like liquid shadow, their honeyed skin adorned with more intricate piercings and shimmering tattoos than anyone Rina had ever seen.

One by one, they bowed to Mo, their expressions a mix of respect and profound deference.

A few, particularly older males with eyes that held centuries of wisdom, extended a hand to kiss his ring.

Mo indulged them and met their gaze with a silent, firm nod, even as the energy around him thrummed with unspoken power.

‘Who are you?’ she murmured when they were alone at last.

‘Your dream come true.’

She shook her head, unimpressed. ‘A smooth talker for one with a freakin’ ego.’

‘Also, the man who makes you wet,’ he growled into her ear.

‘I won’t argue with that.’

‘Good, sit back and enjoy. The cuisine here is to die for, and you’ll need it to keep up with me later.’

He winked and she rolled her eyes, even as her tummy rumbled.

It brought to her attention the delicious aroma in the air, of butter-laden, roasted meat.

A platter soon arrived piled high and accompanied by sweet, baked Aurelian tubers.

Glasses of Lumian berry wine also appeared.