Page 18 of When the Universe Sings

“Your voice is beautiful.”

A muscle feathered in my jaw and I froze. But he didn’t move toward me or reach for my hand and after a moment I forced myself to relax. When he looked up, he blinked again and swallowed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t?—”

“Maxtalen,” Captain Ruciyah snapped, appearing as if out of thin air from the mouth of the corridor. “You’re needed in nav.”

At once the male jumped to his feet, giving me a quick, embarrassed nod, and skittered away. Something about that look softened me to him just a bit and I wondered if he hadn’t meant to say the words aloud.

I kept my attention fixed on my cup, taking a small sip even though the thick liquid caught in my throat.

“How well do you know this Louxurian?” The captain’s voice was a low rumble and my muscles locked into place. He was much closer than before.

He’d somehow quieted his heavy gait and my skin crawled. I took my time with another seemingly casual sip of my drink and traced a small burn mark in the table with the tip of my finger.

“Jun—”

“He’s Lunastra’s assistant.”

This time Captain Ruciyah’s steps were audible as he rounded the table until he towered over me. He’d taken off the upper part of his mask and the silver of his eyes was a brand against my skin. Black hair waved around his face, falling well past his shoulders, and it looked wild, as if he’d been running his fingers through it.

Burn it to the ground.

My jaw clicked as I clenched it.

“Have you spoken with her?”

I shook my head. It was the truth. I had no personal communicator, only the tracker in my arm, but I wouldn’t be informing him of that.

From the corner of my eye, the captain ran a hand through his hair before gathering it into a knot on the top of his head. Unconsciously, it seemed, he took a step closer and I fought the urge to push my chair back. Even now my throat ached from the pressure of his forearm, my voice even raspier than it had been before.

“Then I suppose we’re taking a detour to theDaskquah.” He turned away and threw over his shoulder: “Get ready to see your mistress.”

…

The next evening Captain Ruciyah, Greabes, and I stood side by side waiting for the ramp of the small cruiser to open into the hangar bay of theDaskquah. Electricity vibrated in the air until Greabes muttered a curse and stepped back with a wave of his hand.

“Maker,you two need to pull yourselves together. This male and most of this universe-damned ship believes she’s yourpersonal pleasure yeska, so whatever murderous feelings you have for each other need to be put aside for the next hour.”

A gnawing pit opened in my belly and I exhaled slowly through my nose, thanking the universe and her Maker it was only a story.

“Perhaps I like murderous little sneaks.” The captain’s hands flexed at his sides. He took a step closer to me and even the blood in my veins seemed to stop moving. I swallowed once, twice, three times, breathing out through my nose, and wondered if I would be sick.

Greabes cursed again right as the ramp lowered to the ground, bringing Lyrace into view. He smiled in the courteous way he did for patrons, outfitted in a deep ruby three-piece suit complete with a half cloak over his right shoulder. But his bland smile faltered at the sight of me, his gaze raking over my braided hair and the circles beneath my eyes before he masked it.

“Captain, what a pleasure to see you again,” Lyrace purred, bowing his head. “Mistress is waiting for you in the gemstone room.”

Ruciyah pressed a hand against the small of my back and I jumped before his fingers tightened on my cloak. I’d worn a similar outfit to him—the same one I’d worn when we’d infiltrated Keva Um’plem—to give the illusion of our alliance. Perhaps Lyrace would believe Quinzyr males preferred their pleasure yeskas dressed in a similar fashion to themselves.

With a firm grip, Captain Ruciyah guided me down the ramp, his hand smoothing out as we came to a stop. Lyrace’s shrewd gaze lingered on the space between us, but his practiced expression of polite disinterest reappeared. He barely gave Greabes a passing glance while we strode through the hangar and into the lush halls of the pleasure barge.

But the captain did not lower his hand. The heat of his wide palm melted through my clothes and made my skin itch.Every so often I thought he would release me while we traveled through the winding halls, but then a patron or yeska would appear and he would drift a little closer until I was tucked beneath his arm completely. And with each step, each bump of my shoulder against his side, each brush of his hand against my hip, I heard the screams of my people in my ears.

Smelled their burnt flesh on the air.

Watched as he pointed a bare hand toward our home tree with a bored expression.

I couldn’t remember my sister’s name. My mother’s face. My father’s laugh.

But I rememberedhim.