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

‘I acquire them. Most are rare. I likewise dabble in the latest in high-tech arsenal, and I cut them in when needed.’

Silence fell, and Rina marveled at how content she was in it, with him.

There was no need to fill in any awkward quiet moments, because there were none.

It was uncanny how fast they slid into being comfortable with one another.

‘What about you? What does the Colonel do for fun?’

She arched a brow at his burred timbre. Damn, it was delicious.

‘Glassblowing.’

He raised his chin at her. ‘For real?’

She nodded, as disbelief turned to intrigue on his face. ‘It’s the one place I can lose time. Just me, fire, and breath, then a sacred, delicate object that can be shattered with the wrong touch. It’s invigorating, to say the least.’

He leaned in just enough to catch her scent, mingled with the aroma of star lime and her unique perfume. ‘Let me guess,’ he murmured. ‘Controlled danger appeals to you.’

Her mouth tilted into a small, knowing smile. ‘Why? Is that what you think you are?’

‘I know I am,’ he purred.

The air between them tightened, forming a subtle, delicious tension that coiled with the promise of heat, excitement, and an inevitable, beautiful collision.

They kept talking, delving deeper into their philosophies, favorite books, and music, as if they were on a date.

Rina found herself laughing at one of Mo’s dry and dark remarks.

His humor loosened her up and had her laughing with abandon, and his intentional listening spoke to her heart.

They were so lost in each other that she scarcely noticed when two figures approached them, silent as mist.

It was a pair of Sacran luminaries, radiant and lit from within.

Their complexion shimmered with that unmistakable bioluminescence, veins pulsing like starlight beneath translucent skin.

Their robes flowed like liquid light, humming with energy, and their eyes, silver and endless, settled first on Mo, then on the glyphs winding along his exposed chest.

The taller of the two spoke first, voice gentle yet commanding, like someone used to being listened to. ‘Forgive our intrusion, but may we inquire, where did you receive those markings?’

Mo’s casual lean stiffened, almost imperceptibly, his hand still wrapped around his empty whiskey glass. ‘What markings?’

They gestured, with a bow of reverence, to the inky glyph sprawled over his heart. In the dim light, it pulsed, alive, electric, as if aware of their gaze.

‘That one,’ the smaller luminary whispered, awe-laced. ‘The sigil of the Third Eye. A Sacran relic. Few bear it now, fewer still with the vertex gem.’

Rina’s brows lifted, her curiosity more than aroused.

Mo glanced down at his chest, confusion flickering across his face. ‘I’ve always had it.’

The Sacran dignitaries exchanged a loaded glance.

The taller one stepped closer, pointing to the apex above the central curve of the glyph, where a gem-shaped etching caught the light and fractured it like a prism.

‘That jewel design marks a bloodline that is now extinguished. A fallen House, cast from the Seventh Heaven.’

Mo’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing to cold slits. ‘What house?’

The luminaries hesitated, unsettled.

‘One we do not name,’ the loftier said at last, voice dropping. ‘For fear it might awaken again.’

Without another word, they bowed, deep and hurried, as if realizing they lingered too long, and floated away.

They disappeared into the crowd, their whispers trailing them like the rustle of leaves in a dead wind.

Rina tracked them, blinking once, twice, before she turned back to Mo.

‘Are you a god in hiding, Mo?’ she said, arching one brow, her tone light but her heart nowhere near calm.

The question landed like a hammer.

He bristled, walls slamming up behind his eyes, that easy calm cracking just enough for her to see the storm beneath.

‘Sorry,’ she murmured, laying a gentle hand on his forearm, savoring the warmth of his skin, the tautness of muscle under it. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I tend to prattle on when I’m nervous.’

He stared at her, long and unblinking.

Then, like a tide receding, some of the tension left his shoulders.

His mouth quirked, a slight, sardonic lift on his lush lips.

‘Nothing to be edgy about with me, mama,’ he rasped, rough as gravel and warm as dusk.

Rina inhaled, unprepared for the way his endearment wrapped around her ribs and held tight.

She smiled, a little uneven, and cast about for safer ground. ‘So tell me, what’s your favorite model of pre-Exodus firearm? Don’t tell me it’s the boring Ares 9mm. Everyone says that.’

The spark returned to his gaze. ‘Boring? That’s classic engineering. But nada , give me a Helix .44. A beauty in recoil.’

They fell into the topic, their laughter easy.

Neither of them noted when the lights dimmed, the music softened, or when the merriment, dancing, and clinking goblets faded.

When Rina finally glanced around, she found the celebration dwindling.

Most of the bartenders were gone, leaving a handful of staff members to clear up and clean glasses behind the counter.

Only a few guests lingered in clusters.

The bride and groom had long left, and the Riders, too, were MIA.

Not even Sheba was within sight.

Rina blinked, and she inspected her wrist comm, seeing a message from her friend.

Took a fly cab to the space port. Catch you next month at drinks if you ever resurface from your love fest with that lethal man you’ve been lost in the last few hours.

It was signed with an X kiss.

Rina huffed, then checked her chrono, disbelieving.

‘Shit,’ she whispered. ‘We’ve been talking for three hours?’

Mo tilted his head, lazy and amused. ‘Three and I haven’t kissed you yet.’

Her inhale caught.

The rumbled words hit her like a live wire, unexpected, heated, electric.

She blinked. ‘What -?’

His hand came up, and he cupped her jaw with fingers that were warm and solid, thumb resting just under her cheekbone.

His eyes held hers, asking.

‘May I?’

Unable to form an utterance, she nodded.

When he kissed her, she swore her brain flat-lined .

It was a full possession, mouth to mouth, breath to breath, lips molded over hers with a raw, intentional reverence that turned her bones to steam.

His other hand found her waist, anchoring her as he leaned in and deepened the kiss.

His mouth moved with heat and hunger, slow but commanding, tasting, teasing, taking.

It was a panty-melting, pulse-destroying, end-of-all-reason kind of kiss.

When he finally pulled back, his lips quirked in a way that made her want to chase them again.

She blinked up at him, dazed and breathless.

‘Three hours well spent,’ he rasped. ‘Want more?’

Just then, his face changed.

It tightened, his eyes flicking into a faraway look.

The same one her fellow soldiers got when their neural node activated.

He was reading a message, and as he did, his features hardened further.

Rina went into auto-brace; she was a warrior after all.

‘I’ve got to go,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll comm you.’

‘You don’t have my link.’

He flicked a holo file from his wrist tab. ‘You have mine, woman. In any case, I have the means to obtain it. May I walk you to your transport?’

She studied him, deciphering between the lines, appreciating that he had manners. ‘ Nada , appears you’re in a hurry. Go. I’ll be fine. This soldier can take care of herself.’

With a jerk of his chin, he surged up, looming over her.

He locked eyes with her one more time, his gaze now cool.

‘See you around, Colonel.’

She gave him a two-fingered salute as he strode away, tall, forceful, and towering against the until he disappeared into the mist rolling down the mountain.

Rina shook her head, reliving the evening’s events in her mind.

The essence of star lime still lingered on her tongue.

The scorching of his hand still heated her skin, and the timbred rumble of his voice echoed in her ears.

Mo had become her unexpected delight this evening, and it gave her goosebumps to think about seeing him again.

With a ragged exhale, she leaned down, unhooked the straps of her heels, and let them dangle from her hand.

The sensation of cool grass helped ground her as she tracked over it with her bare feet.

As she walked toward the exit, her neural node pinging a command to her ride, a smile touched her lips, still lost in the pleasure of what seemed a serendipitous night.

Thank the gods her flyer’s auto nav was top-notch; for she was not in a state to pilot it in this frame of mind, reeling from the intoxicating rush of Mo.

Fokk , forget the flyer; she thought she might even float to her bed and breakfast room.

She laughed to herself as she, too, vanished into the mist of the magical night.