Wanderlust

Verada Prime

When I was five, I wanted to be a dancer. I informed my parents I’d dazzle the audience at the famous Stellonbosh stage on Spiros, and they’d show their appreciation by tossing beautiful flowers onto the stage. By my tenth birthday, my aspirations had changed. I wanted to sing on the interstellar broadcast circuit and earn hundreds and thousands of credits.

I huffed a laugh at my childish ambitions. On this, my twenty-fifth birthday, the reality was a long way from the career path I’d imagined.

I pilot a cruiser.

Me. Aura Jovax.

I work for Wanderlust Stellar Adventures, ferrying tourists on routes through the Outer Territories that most travelers never visit. Frankly, I found it difficult to imagine a job better suited to a Wemyss girl with a taste for adventure.

Happy birthday to me.

Grinning, I grabbed my daypack from my cabin and headed out, intending to check on Mistral before the last passengers arrived today. Our purpose-built all-terrain vehicle was useful when we wanted to show our passengers sights on planet, but we traveled between stops on Auster, a cruiser, converted from a mid-range freight hauler frame big enough to carry passengers, luggage, food stores and Mistral. Though Mistral and Auster wouldn’t win a beauty contest, they were mine for this contract, quirks and all, and I wanted to make a great first impression on my tour group.

A cabin door in the adjacent lodging block burst open, and two giggling girls scurried into my path, almost wiping me out. Two of my passengers. When I dodged their staggering bodies, I glimpsed Gromar Thyrell, another passenger, before the door sealed shut. I blinked. Twice. At least, I thought it was Gromar. From where I stood, a pair of muscular blue-green thighs blocked my view of his face.

Naked thighs.

“Ooh! Hi, Aura,” Kaedra squeaked, dragging my bemused gaze from the closed door. A wave of alcoholic fumes nearly knocked me sideways. Her eyes morphed to a telltale green-amber, and the faint golden glow beneath her skin was impossible to miss. She was drunk.

“Aura, you’re not gonna tell on us, are you?” Neestrill, her partner-in-crime, wobbled and threw a hand against the building wall to right herself. The flush across her cheeks and collarbones was glowing like a docking beacon.

I glanced up and down the walkway leading from the row of cabins to the parking pads, hoping none of the lodging staff witnessed their shenanigans. A Verada local kept the place spotless. She also followed the house rules with near religious seriousness.

All clear.

My breath eased out. “And risk getting thrown out of the lodgings? Go to your rooms,” I said, feeling like a schoolteacher instead of a tour leader.

Giggling again, they teetered along the narrow path to the end cabins. Why? What did I do to deserve this? I marched toward the vehicle pad where I’d parked Mistral.

I did my usual walk around the exterior to check for problems. Mistral looked good after yesterday’s maintenance cycle, her white panels clean and her six oversized tires filled to the correct pressure. A local fabricator patched the two environment tents that needed repairs, and I’d restocked the ration packs for the next leg of the combined planetside and deep-route trip and offloaded them onto Auster. This morning Grevan, my co-pilot, and I intended to check in with the office and do last-minute housekeeping tasks before our departure tomorrow.

After my quick inspection of the exterior, I keyed open the cockpit and climbed into the driver’s seat to wait for Grevan. Mistral had dual-handed drive systems—standard for Wanderlust vehicles running the Kellaran Circuit. On-land driving conventions shifted between systems, port-side priority in the Inner Territories switching to starboard in the Outer. It sounded confusing, but I faced no problems adjusting.

To pass the time, I scanned the route notes for the circuit through the Outer Territories before the final run to Kathmandu Station at our journey’s end. Although I’d made the trip twice, once as co-pilot and once as tour leader, a refresher wouldn’t hurt. I flicked through the notes—Islay, Pelluvane, the Kellaran Drift. Oh, yes. I perked up at the thought of Pelluvane. Such heaven. Warm archipelago beaches, sparkling golden waters, sea-salt and flowering kelp freshening every breath. Magical swimming in shallow reefs. Fresh seafood and floating markets. Moonlit walks across living kelp platforms. I sighed, wishing to magically appear there.

A knock on the driver’s window sounded, and I glanced up, expecting Grevan. My smile froze. It was Lethon Quirra, one of my passengers. The dark-haired Duvari was driving me to distraction with his persistent attentions and his calm, analytical insistence that he was in love.

With me.

I suppressed a shudder. Trip romances. I wished the passengers would leave me out of the equation. I cracked the window, praying Grevan hurried so I could cut this conversation short. Didn’t Lethon know it was my birthday? This day was personal—a day of celebration, a day to spend the way I chose.

“Hi, Lethon. Can I help you with something?” Please don’t ask me out. Please.

Lethon angled his head, tipping his pale face in my direction. The Duvari showed no readable emotion in their features—no microexpressions, not a single flush or wince. The lack of expression creeped me out. He was handsome and pleasant when life went his way, but not the one for me. Not the man who made my heart race and my insides go liquid.

Besides, I never mixed work with my love life. Never. A rule I’d set at the start after watching other Wanderlust employees lurch from lover to lover.

“I thought drinks tonight at the Stellan Quarter. It isn’t a chain outlet but a beautiful, classy old establishment. Expensive, but you, my dear, deserve it.” He regarded me with that flat, unreadable expression, and I wondered if he expected applause for the flattery. “What do you say? Drinks at seven with a meal afterward?”

“I’m sorry, Lethon. The new passengers arrive today, and we have a group meal tonight. Remember?”

“Oh. Right then. How about I come with you now? We can have lunch,” Lethon said, unperturbed by my refusal. Tenacious was his middle name.

I gritted my teeth and wished Grevan would hurry. The wretch was probably watching from his cabin and letting me squirm in payback for making him deal with the officious lodging staff and their lectures about sexual misconduct and other numerous rules.

With a polite smile, I attempted pleasant and firm. “I don’t…look, I hate to discuss my private life, but there is someone else…” I trailed off, trying hard not to flinch at the lie.

My relationship with Kelmar was casual and not the burning love I implied.

Lethon processed this for an instant. His eyes were cold despite the measured smile that curved his lips. With a Duvari, the smile meant nothing—they learned the action by observation rather than instinct. A shiver tracked down my spine, but I forced it aside. He’d have to deal with my rejection. I’d remained polite so far. Professional to the end, but the man wouldn’t accept a refusal despite my repeated efforts, and now I’d compounded my sins by lying. Hopefully, my fibs didn’t come back to haunt me. Nah, if the untruth worked, I could live with the white lie.

“I’m sorry, Lethon. Busy. I need to see what’s holding up Grevan.”

“Some other time. Don’t think I’ll give up on you.” Lethon touched the tip of my nose with one finger and walked away, leaving me spluttering.

Indignant, I swiped at the spot. Sometimes, I wished I was tall and imposing instead of a petite Wemyss who looked younger than her years. Despite first impressions, my passengers soon learned that I excelled at my job. I smirked. Not a shred of false modesty for Aura Jovax.

I checked the chrono and wondered what was keeping Grevan. If he presented with a hangover, I might scream. Drunk passengers were bad enough. After muttering a curse, I jumped clear of the cockpit and strode toward Grevan’s cabin.

I thumped for entrance and heard a muffled grunt. The minute I opened the door, I sensed a problem. The knowledge prickled through me, making me groan inwardly. Grevan had complained of headaches for the last couple of rotations. He’d seemed sluggish, but he worked and played hard. I didn’t mind if he did his job and shared our tasks.

But why now? Why today, on my birthday?

Discomfited by the selfish thought, I advanced further into the cabin, breathing through my mouth to avoid the worst of the smell. Sweat, stale clothing, damp boots, and an undertone of bile.

With a sinking sensation, I crept closer. When I reached the bed, I peered at Grevan’s sweaty, flushed face. His raven hair hung wet and lank, his stubble thicker than usual. Deep amber eyes burned with fever when they cracked open. I pressed my hand to his brow and pulled it back fast. He was throwing off enough heat to warm a small cabin.

My sigh was gusty. “Grevan Xandor, I think you might have Verik fever. Remember that water stop in the Outer Territories? The biting insects were the size of small birds.”

“Aura Jovax, the prominent physician,” Grevan mocked in a croaky voice. He shifted on the narrow bunk. “I don’t have Verik fever.” He spoiled his statement by wincing. Recognizing this was a mistake, his jaw set to granite, and he glared at me.

“Fine,” I said, my eyes narrowing even as I played along. I folded my arms across my chest. “What’s wrong with you, then?”

“Virus.” Grevan spoiled his dignified reply with a spate of coughing.

I grabbed a hydration flask from the shelf near the bed, cracked the seal, and handed it to him. Then, I leaned against the cool wall and waited for the coughing to end.

When the cabin was quiet apart from his labored breathing, I said, “I’ll find a medical facility here in the spaceport quarter. We’ll know for sure once they run a scan.” I winked at him, though we both knew it was an order. Me, tour leader, telling Grevan, co-pilot, he was going to a medic or else. I forced a grin despite my worry. “You can tell me I told you so after the doctor proves me wrong.”

“No. No medic. I’ll be fine by departure. We’ve done the preparation. There’s nothing left apart from greeting the incoming passengers.” Grevan coughed, and when he winced again, I figured his head was splitting.

Another symptom of Verik fever.

I was right—I knew it, though it gave me no pleasure. As the leader of this Wanderlust Stellar Adventures tour from Verada Prime to Kathmandu Station, it was my responsibility to make the best decisions for the group. I couldn’t let Grevan continue in this state. Our head office might have a replacement co-pilot available to meet us en route.

“I’ll take it easy while we wait for the new passengers, and by the time we’re ready to leave tomorrow, my symptoms will have gone.”

Sure they would. “Grevan, get dressed. I’ll locate a medical facility and drop you off before I report to head office. I need to run a maintenance diagnostic on Mistral at the same time.”

“No!”

I stepped from Grevan’s cabin and closed the door on his complaints. Damn. I didn’t need this today. It was bad enough that my sister was joining the tour. On my birthday. In a few hours, to be precise.

Joy.

I couldn’t wait for her pointed comments to start. We’d never played happy families, but I’d maintain my temper and smiles if it killed me. I’d promised my parents. Grevan’s illness complicated everything. I was certain it was Verik fever and worried about a replacement. Piloting solo would be difficult. Not impossible, but tiring.

A short while later, I’d located the nearest medical facility on the port directory, and Grevan joined me at the ground-level transport pad, arriving moments before Soryx Drexa, another passenger, worked up the courage to ask me to lunch.

“I’ve got to go,” I said, trying not to let my relief show.

“I’ll see you later, Aura.” Soryx lifted a hand in farewell, the indigo deepening at his temples as he smiled. He walked away, his light blue skin catching the port-quarter lights.

“You’ve made a conquest there. He’s wealthy, pleasant enough for an Aluven. Why don’t you say yes for once?” A cough interrupted Grevan’s rough chuckle.

“Because I never mix business and pleasure.” My words were a low growl, a warning that I didn’t care to pursue the conversation we’d repeated too many times before.

If it had been my lover Kelmar, I might’ve accepted, but that wasn’t likely. Our relationship was casual, and we crossed paths a few times a standard year. I wasn’t ready to stop traveling—the wanderlust encoded in Wemyss biology still hummed in my blood. No marriage or anything permanent for me.

Grevan shrugged. “It’s better than discussing Verik fever, which I don’t have. I have a virus.” He buckled into the transport pod and slumped against the seat.

I glanced across at him. A virus. Right. And the maintenance drone circling the next landing pad might sprout wings and fly itself to Kathmandu Station. I keyed in the destination and pulled the transport pod into the flow of ground traffic.

Verada Prime’s spaceport quarter was never dull, reminding me of a colorful dance. Ground pods, cargo haulers, and skittering three-wheeled runabouts darted between the heavier transit vehicles. Horns blared like an out-of-sync orchestra, and the pedestrian lanes teemed with a dozen species dodging in every direction.

I followed a small cargo pod and braked to avoid hitting a trader hauling bolts of fabric across the lane. A chorus of honks erupted behind me. Grinning, I waited for the trader to scuttle clear and continued toward the medical facility.

“How are you?” I asked, glancing across the cab.

“Nothing wrong with me,” he growled.

“I’ll be happier once the medic confirms that. The facility isn’t far. Can I drop you off, or should I come in with you?”

Grevan glared. “I’m not a child. I can visit a medic by myself, even though it’s a waste of time.”

“You’re acting like one.” All he needed was the pouting lip to complete the picture.

“It’s a virus,” he snapped. “You wait until you catch it and see how energetic you feel.”

I pulled up outside the medical facility and chuckled, my nose wrinkling. “No time for me to get sick. I need to change over currency, contact head office, and get them to transmit the new passenger details. Should I pick you up when I’m finished?”

“No telling how long it will take. I’ll catch a pod to the lodgings after they’ve run their scans.” Grevan pulled a face before he climbed out, following it up with a glower that I ignored.

Waving, I continued to the comms hub in the commercial district. I maneuvered Mistral along narrow service lanes, past market stalls and bustling crowds of tawny-skinned locals in their bright orange and yellow clothing and visitors from other planets with varying skin shades of blue and green and startling features, before hitting the broader avenues leading to the central exchange—the mercantile heart of Verada Prime.

The comms hub sat in the precinct of a mid-range transit hotel. They had relay access, data transfer, and long-range comms among their services. A currency exchange sat on the same block, so I could complete my tasks without moving the pod again. I’d run the system check on Mistral when I got back.

I parked in a side lane, attracting the usual gallery of interested bystanders—mostly brightly clothed local men amused to see a petite Wemyssi climbing out of an oversized ground pod.

Ignoring the stares, I grabbed my paperwork, locked Mistral, and hurried off with a wave. Inside the transit hotel, I turned left past a row of shops selling off-world curios and reached the comms hub. I forced my way through the doors, spoke to the attendant behind the desk, and a few minutes later held a relay handset to my ear. The connection tone sounded several times before I heard Wanderlust Stellar Adventures’ receptionist issue a chirpy greeting.

“It’s Aura,” I said. “Is the boss free?”

“Aura, how goes it?”

“A problem,” I said.

“Oh, in that case, I’ll put you through without demanding the dirt and gossip.” Charlize’s voice was rich with humor and a touch of relief.

I pictured her seated in the office, immaculate as always, not a dark hair out of place, the fine freckles across her nose and cheekbones highlighted by her judicious application of cosmetics. Gold eyes behind an expression that gave nothing away. With a rueful grin, I glanced at my own worn utility shirt and cargo shorts. Though I scrubbed up adequately for a special occasion, poised and elegant weren’t my thing.

“Charlize says you have a problem.” Davith’s gravelly voice poured down the line, making him sound much larger than he was. A snort escaped. Although compact in his two-legged form, Davith’s determination to carve a niche in the adventure travel business garnered respect and made him a giant in my eyes.

My sigh was heavy. “I’ve dropped Grevan at a medical facility. I’m convinced he has Verik fever. He has the symptoms.”

“Verik fever? Wasn’t the fool taking his prophylactic tabs?”

I kept the handset at a distance from my ear. When silence settled, I said, “Grevan took his tablets. I saw him. Besides, they don’t always work. Some of those biting insects in the Outer Territories have adapted past the standard prophylaxis. Grevan and I are both experienced crew. We know what we’re doing.”

“Yeah. Sorry. How bad is it?”

“I’m no medic, but he looked terrible. I made him go for a scan. He’s in no condition to co-pilot. Is anyone else available?” Hope laced my question, even though I guessed the answer.

“All available crew are flying routes.” The rustle of data pads and a low curse sounded. A dull clunk suggested Davith had knocked something off his desk. “You still there?”

“Yes.” Luckily, he couldn’t see me, so I didn’t bother smothering my grin.

“It’ll be at least three or four cycles before a co-pilot is free. I’m taking on trainees next cycle, but I prefer not to send them out until I’ve gauged their capabilities. I refuse to change a proven method. Look, Aura. I hate to ask this of you, but you’ll have to cope. That’s if Grevan can’t continue.”

“Okay.” I sighed, reminding myself I loved my job even though this tour was already proving a challenge.

Grevan’s fever, my sister’s imminent arrival, persistent overtures from Lethon and Soryx, and the accident at the last transit stop where a passenger died in a collision with a cargo skiff all weighed heavily, shoving up my stress levels.

“Yeah, all right,” I added, more to give myself a boost than anything. Happy birthday to me.

“You’ll be fine. You’re our best pilot, but we’re only a call away if you need advice or another problem crops up.”

“I heard you tell Jaxx he was your ace pilot,” I said.

“And so he is, whenever he needs encouragement,” Davith boomed.

I couldn’t help laughing. “All right, boss. I’ll check in before departure tomorrow. Grevan might recover and prove me wrong. No Verik fever.”

***

Back at the lodgings, I discovered a message slid under my cabin door. I switched on the overhead light since the cabin bore only one narrow window for natural lighting. After dumping my bag on the bunk, I opened the note. It was from Grevan. They’d admitted him to the medical facility with Verik fever, and he needed his personal kit. Damn. I’d hoped to take private time, wander through the bazaars in the old quarter, and catch some local entertainment.

Instead, I’d need to check on Grevan before returning to face my sister and the two new male passengers joining the group. At least, they’d even the gender numbers. I was clueless about what triggered hormones to go haywire on our adventure tours, but it happened with monotonous regularity. Some passengers turned into regular jackspace rabbits. I figured it was none of my business and stayed out of the courtship politics, but the mating dances made my rotations interesting.

Their names… I wrinkled my brow, trying to recall them from the transmission I’d received. Ah, yes. Zoggo Wibnax and Orbit Zyrnath. I strode to Grevan’s room, breathed shallowly to combat the stench, and packed his essentials. The rest could go on Mistral since Grevan didn’t need everything now.

After walking out to the transport lane, I flagged down a runabout—one of the three-wheeled, open-topped pods that zipped through the spaceport quarter like insects with a death wish.

A runabout pulled up with a shriek of repulsors, the driver’s grin wide, his scaled features a vivid green under the port-quarter lights. I jumped in the back. “How much to the medical facility?”

He named a price. I nodded, and he launched into a gap between a transit shuttle and a cargo hauler.

“You pay more, I get you there fast,” he suggested, beaming at me over his shoulder.

“Watch the lane,” I bellowed, gripping the seat rail and bracing for the inevitable collision with the lumbering shuttle vehicle ahead.

Somehow we missed, but the heat of its exhaust wash blasted me, and I smacked my nose against the bar above the driver’s headrest. I righted myself and rubbed the stinging spot.

My eyes watered, and I knuckled the tears away. “Get me there in one piece,” I shouted above the blare of horns and the rush of air through the open cab.

A runabout driver who diced with death. I leaned back and tried to relax. Difficult when I braced at every turn. Forget right of way or yield markers. I screwed my eyes shut for those.

My breath eased out once we arrived, and I scrambled from the vehicle, forcing my shaky legs to hold me upright.

“Here.” I thrust a handful of local currency at the driver—the agreed fare plus a small tip. He thanked me and shot off with a wave and a toot of his horn.

Once I regained my equilibrium, I hustled up the entrance ramp and into the facility. There was a specific smell about medical centers—antiseptic and recycled air. The lingering scent of something spiced from the staff canteen added a local piquancy.

Visitors of several species, some carrying small gifts, and staff in pale uniforms moved through the corridors. After checking in at reception, I followed the directions to Grevan’s room.

I knocked and entered. Grevan was lying on a narrow medical cot, sleeping. His face was still flushed, beads of sweat on his brow. No way was he going to co-pilot tomorrow. I must have made a sound because his eyes flickered.

“Hey,” he said, jerking fully awake.

It was a trait I admired. Mornings were stressful for me, a cup of stim-brew necessary to pull me to full awareness.

“Hey.” I dropped into the chair by his cot. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“I guess that means you don’t have a virus, and you’re not leaving with us tomorrow.”

“Smart-arse,” he muttered.

“I try.” I kept my tone light, my worry buried deep. Even though I’d guessed the truth, the confirmation left me uneasy about the remaining route to Kathmandu Station.

“Did you get hold of the office?”

“Yeah, I spoke to the boss. There are no co-pilots available, but if you’re a good boy and follow the medics’ instructions, you can catch up with us.”

Footsteps behind me dragged my attention from Grevan.

“I overheard,” the doctor said. She was young and assured, and the medical insignia on her collar told me she’d trained at one of the better institutions. “Your colleague is seriously ill. The Verik fever has progressed and will take time to clear. It hits the system hard.”

“Oh,” I said. “I guess that means you’ll head home. Back to Torath IV.”

“Feel like crap.” Grevan attempted a smile, but it cost him.

“How long will he be here?” I asked.

The doctor smiled. “A standard week before we release him.”

I nodded. “I’ll let Davith know. Do you need anything before I leave?”

He shook his head and winced. “Nah. Can you take the rest of my kit aboard Auster?”

“No problem. I’ll come back before we leave for Islay.”

“Can you grab me a copy of the itinerary? In case I can rejoin the route.”

“Sure. I’ll bring it tomorrow, although you can always contact the office. They’ll know our location.” I humored him, but the doctor was right. Grevan wouldn’t be running at full capacity for some time.

***

Back at our lodgings, I walked straight into Rhexa Morathis. Literally. She went flying, knocked off balance by my determined strides. Chagrined, I extended a hand to help her up. “Sorry! I was miles away.”

“No problem.” Rhexa dusted herself off, her hair curling gently in relaxed spirals—deep crimson today, which meant she was in high spirits. An original passenger who’d joined at the start of our trip, she bounced on her toes, and I guessed she had news. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.

“My sister?”

I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with my sister’s moods. Although we hadn’t seen each other for the better part of a standard year, I doubted the passage of time would improve things between us.

“If your sister is Erixa.” Rhexa scrutinized me, drawing comparisons, and I resisted the urge to squirm. I’m petite with silver-blonde hair, while Erixa is tall and willowy with a mane of dark hair—unusual for a Wemyssi, and always remarked on. “You don’t look like sisters.”

“I take after my father’s side. They say I resemble my grandmother when she was my age.” I changed the subject, not wanting to discuss my family dynamics. Erixa’s arrival meant family business would intrude. I’d tried to tell my parents, but they applied pressure and guilt until I folded. I scowled at my boots. My mother and father excelled at that. With a soft sigh, I glanced at Rhexa. “Have the other new arrivals checked in?”

“One has arrived. There’s a mess-up with the room booking.” Rhexa grasped my arm, halting my departure. “You should see him,” she said, her dimples flashing. Her hair rose and spread, the red tones brightening even more. “He’s gorgeous. Tall. Horns. A tail that moves as if it has a mind of its own. We’re going out for drinks after the group meal tonight.”

“Sounds great.” It sounded like trouble. If Rhexa was this excited, the other females on tour would be equally interested. I hoped the second new male passenger was ordinary in the looks department. I faced more than enough complications.

“Aura, you should see him. He’s…he’s soo —” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, and her hair practically stood on end. “His tribal jaw markings. They glow. A girl could lose her mind.”

“I’ll go to greet them,” I said, backing away from Rhexa’s descriptions of his anatomy. This man didn’t sound harmless—he sounded like a problem.

Females crowded the reception area. Every single one of my female passengers stood around a Serathi male. He towered over the group, and our gazes met when I pushed toward the desk.

I walked up to him and stuck out my hand. “Hi, I’m Aura Jovax, the tour leader.”

“Hello, Aura. I’m Orbit.” His voice was low and warm, and I focused on suppressing a shudder of awareness. The male was potent. No wonder the girls were circling like predators at a feeding station.

A sharp cough jerked my attention to the person standing behind him. Erixa. I’d gone straight to the stranger and not greeted my sister first. “Hi, Erixa.” I closed the distance between us, castigating myself the whole way. Great start. Absolutely perfect. I tried for an enthusiastic embrace.

Failure.

Erixa let me hold her but stood rigid. Unyielding. My cheeks heated when I realized everyone—passengers and lodging staff—watched us. I let my hands fall, stepped back, and forced a smile. “It’s great to see you.”

Nothing changed. Erixa still resented me, and worse than usual, because our parents insisted the only way she could travel the Outer Territories was on a tour I led. Erixa read that to mean they didn’t trust her. Frankly, I didn’t blame our parents after hearing of her recent troubles on Wemyss—staying out through the night cycle, drinking, running with the wrong crowd. Poor company attracted Erixa, and this tour contained a few candidates. Enticements. My parents had made me the buffer between them and their youngest daughter, and I hated the position.

“Aura.” Erixa sounded distant, and my embarrassment sharpened. I hated our family business being displayed in public. “Mother and Father said to say hello. They sent birthday messages. Grandmother Velha gave me a letter for you. It’s in my bag.”

“Great. I’ll see what the holdup is with your rooms and help with your luggage.” I spoke to the assembled passengers. “Remember, six in the common area before we head out for dinner. Introductions then.” At my unsubtle hint, the passengers drifted from reception, leaving me with Erixa and the Serathi.

After a brief smile at both, I turned to the lodging receptionist and inhaled, ready to negotiate rooms. “Is there a problem?”

The receptionist consulted her screen. “We have a policy,” she said.

“Which is?”

“Unbonded guests of different genders do not share cabins.”

“They’re not sharing,” I said. “They need two separate rooms.”

“Only one available,” the receptionist said.

Bother. “Do you have a fold-out cot?”

“Yes.” She brightened now that I’d offered a solution.

“The lady will stay in my cabin. The man will share with the other male passenger who hasn’t arrived yet. Please deliver the cot to my cabin.”

“Aura!” Erixa tapped me on the shoulder. “I’m not rooming with you.”

“I know. I know. For tonight. Okay?” In the interest of peace, I pulled Orbit into the conversation. “Have you met my sister, Erixa?”

“Yes.” Orbit Zyrnath winked at her, his curved horns reflecting the overhead light while the tribal markings on his jaw flickered. My heart sank. It sank further when I caught the flirtatious smile Erixa returned. He swished his tail behind him, relaxed and at ease. “We met in transit and shared a shuttle to the lodgings.”

“Oh. That’s great,” I said. “Remember, meet at six, and I’ve organized dinner at a local restaurant afterward.”

“You’ve told us already,” Erixa snapped. “We’re not children.”

I held my breath and bit back my tart reply. I exhaled, an increment at a time. “Yes, I did. The cabin is this way. Later, Orbit.” I stalked to the door and held it for Orbit to leave without struggling with his bags. Once he was through, I let it close and turned to my sister. “Ready to go?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Erixa picked up her small bag and frowned at me. “Do you plan on helping me with my luggage?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks,” she said before strolling away with her daypack draped across one shoulder. She left her bulging travel case for me and didn’t hold the door.

A curse escaped, inaudible to anyone else but enough to vent the frustration building behind my ribs.

I grabbed the case, lurching for a few steps. Turning my back to the door, I dragged the case behind me. The door swung open without warning, and I toppled off balance, the weight of the luggage sending me stumbling. A squeak of surprise escaped, but before I hit the floor, a pair of hands seized my waist. My heart thudded, erratic and fast, only easing when I was sure of my balance. I inhaled and caught a hint of something warm and familiar—cedarsmoke and dark spice. Whoever my rescuer was, he smelled wonderful. I let the case drop and turned to thank him.

Shock kicked me square in the gut, and my smile died.

I knew those horns. The dark curve of them rising from his temples, fading to near-black at the tips. I recognized the gray eyes and the tail that betrayed his moods. There was no disguising this man. No alias in the galaxy could hide him from me.

“Kelmar,” I croaked. “What the hell are you doing here?”