then, the jarouk game?"
"Yeah.” He peeled off his gloves with a snap . “But if Havoc loses, I get to tat his mate."
"That was never part of the deal,” Kels growled, swinging around her to square off with the inkman.
"It is now,” Ulvik said. “Take it or leave it."
"It's all right,” Elion said. He'd come up behind Kels and put his hand on his shoulder. “If she can do it, so can I. Besides"—he looked at Kels wryly—"you'll win, or else we're all fucked."
Sayal leaned on Kels's side as he guided her back through the crowded corridor toward her cube. “Really,” she said for the third time, “I think I can walk on my own."
His supportive arm didn't budge. In truth, his body heat and strength might have been all that was holding her upright. Her body stung from her calves to her crown, and flushes of heat rolled over her face.
Elion, watching her worriedly on her left, said, “You can't leave her. Look at her. She's all in a sweat and glassy-eyed.” He pressed his hand to her forehead. “No fever yet."
"Crack and ruin.” Kels hitched her up against his side, the movement sending a sharp bite through her, and she swallowed down a moan. “Sayal, that's the last time you talk me into anything like that."
"No worries. I don't think I'm up for any more tattoos."
Kels felt guilty, horribly guilty, for putting her in this position. She'd widened the slender bond she'd begun to build with him, stretched it a bit more when she'd used him to bear part of the pain of the inking. She couldn't read minds, couldn't enter the psyches of other beings as her mother could, but she was better than an aura reader. The problem was, of course, that her plan to bolster him through the jarouk game was jeopardized by the inking. Not just the pain affected her, for she sensed that would fade. She worried how the alien biolume would mix with her body's chemistry. She wasn't fully human, and it was impossible that Ulvik had practiced on a Prime alien. Primes like her creator, Sorush, dealt with humans only in business and war, and while they were arrogant and beautiful, vanity was not one of their faults. Lume tats would not be high on a Prime's list of priorities.
She sucked in a breath against a pinch of pain as Kels guided her toward the lift that would carry her to her cube. Perhaps her Prime blood would protect her. That was what she'd convinced herself of before she'd gone under the needle, in any case.
"I'm fine now,” she said, thinking that perhaps she would be soon and straightening out of the curve of his arm. She smiled at him, into his worried hazel eyes. “I'll meet you tonight at Ulvik's."
"The hells you will,” he said. “I'm coming in to care for you. That's what gamespartners do. I nursed Keeva through a few of these tats. I know what I'm doing."
On her other side, Elion put his hand on her shoulder. “Better listen to him, Sayal. There's nothing you can do or say to put him out of his nursing mode. Besides, he's a half-decent bonesman. Got me through a few bang-ups."
He and the captain exchanged glances that spoke of an eventful past between them. Already Sayal missed the warmth of Kels's arm and the comfort of his body against her side, and already the pain was beginning to lift, miraculously. “All right, then. Elion, would you care to come in as well?"
Elion shook his head. “Nah. Don't want to be a third wheel. Kels'll take care of you. I've got other business of my own to tend to, besides. He's not the only one trying to scrape up iron to get us off this saints-forsaken shit pot."
She smiled a little but found she'd be missing him too, and his serious pale blue eyes. “Well, maybe next time."
This time, he dropped his gaze, which opened up a whole world of questions inside her mind. He said, “When d'you want to meet up before the game, Kels?"
"Quarter of nine-hour,” he said.
"Right. Ta till then.” With a hand raised in farewell, he left them at her doorstep.
Once he was out of
"Yeah.” He peeled off his gloves with a snap . “But if Havoc loses, I get to tat his mate."
"That was never part of the deal,” Kels growled, swinging around her to square off with the inkman.
"It is now,” Ulvik said. “Take it or leave it."
"It's all right,” Elion said. He'd come up behind Kels and put his hand on his shoulder. “If she can do it, so can I. Besides"—he looked at Kels wryly—"you'll win, or else we're all fucked."
Sayal leaned on Kels's side as he guided her back through the crowded corridor toward her cube. “Really,” she said for the third time, “I think I can walk on my own."
His supportive arm didn't budge. In truth, his body heat and strength might have been all that was holding her upright. Her body stung from her calves to her crown, and flushes of heat rolled over her face.
Elion, watching her worriedly on her left, said, “You can't leave her. Look at her. She's all in a sweat and glassy-eyed.” He pressed his hand to her forehead. “No fever yet."
"Crack and ruin.” Kels hitched her up against his side, the movement sending a sharp bite through her, and she swallowed down a moan. “Sayal, that's the last time you talk me into anything like that."
"No worries. I don't think I'm up for any more tattoos."
Kels felt guilty, horribly guilty, for putting her in this position. She'd widened the slender bond she'd begun to build with him, stretched it a bit more when she'd used him to bear part of the pain of the inking. She couldn't read minds, couldn't enter the psyches of other beings as her mother could, but she was better than an aura reader. The problem was, of course, that her plan to bolster him through the jarouk game was jeopardized by the inking. Not just the pain affected her, for she sensed that would fade. She worried how the alien biolume would mix with her body's chemistry. She wasn't fully human, and it was impossible that Ulvik had practiced on a Prime alien. Primes like her creator, Sorush, dealt with humans only in business and war, and while they were arrogant and beautiful, vanity was not one of their faults. Lume tats would not be high on a Prime's list of priorities.
She sucked in a breath against a pinch of pain as Kels guided her toward the lift that would carry her to her cube. Perhaps her Prime blood would protect her. That was what she'd convinced herself of before she'd gone under the needle, in any case.
"I'm fine now,” she said, thinking that perhaps she would be soon and straightening out of the curve of his arm. She smiled at him, into his worried hazel eyes. “I'll meet you tonight at Ulvik's."
"The hells you will,” he said. “I'm coming in to care for you. That's what gamespartners do. I nursed Keeva through a few of these tats. I know what I'm doing."
On her other side, Elion put his hand on her shoulder. “Better listen to him, Sayal. There's nothing you can do or say to put him out of his nursing mode. Besides, he's a half-decent bonesman. Got me through a few bang-ups."
He and the captain exchanged glances that spoke of an eventful past between them. Already Sayal missed the warmth of Kels's arm and the comfort of his body against her side, and already the pain was beginning to lift, miraculously. “All right, then. Elion, would you care to come in as well?"
Elion shook his head. “Nah. Don't want to be a third wheel. Kels'll take care of you. I've got other business of my own to tend to, besides. He's not the only one trying to scrape up iron to get us off this saints-forsaken shit pot."
She smiled a little but found she'd be missing him too, and his serious pale blue eyes. “Well, maybe next time."
This time, he dropped his gaze, which opened up a whole world of questions inside her mind. He said, “When d'you want to meet up before the game, Kels?"
"Quarter of nine-hour,” he said.
"Right. Ta till then.” With a hand raised in farewell, he left them at her doorstep.
Once he was out of
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