Page 93 of Mated on Live

He hadn’t meant to insult her profession, but fear had gripped him and the absolute desire to keep her away from this place had made him blurt out the degrading words.

When he returned, he’d apologize. He’d grovel. He hadn’t meant it the way it came out. He’d do more shows with her. He’d prove to her that he valued what she did.

But if it kept her away from danger, he’d do whatever he needed.

Pushing the memory of her anger and hurt face from his mind, as just thinking of it made him wince with guilt and shame, he focused on his mission. He was in danger just walking around this place. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

His nerves, his tension, had his olules standing all around his head. They were a good deterrent that had more than a few eyes tracking him as hands went to weapons. Their sting wouldn’t kill, but the agony would last for a while, long after it was wiped away. No one wanted to suffer for no reason. And if that failed, he had his own weapon in his halter. He kept a hand on it as he walked through the makeshift roads between the shuttles. He wasn’t the only one, most people walked that way. Their heads down, moving quickly to get what they needed and get out.

Serval knew what he was looking for, though not how to get there. The large stone compound he had been directed towards was set at one end of the dark market and was mostly buried. The front sticking up out of the dirt had the same camouflage over it. He was told that it was one of the few permanent buildings here, and it would be the only one buried.

He didn’t have his combots on him – as he was only intending to gather information right now. If he was going to break this story, he wouldn’t be broadcasting live from the scene like he would on a battlefield. The only thing he had with him was a very basic camera that could only take photos in a ring on his hand. He would use it to gather the evidence he needed. Go back to his ship, record his report, deliver it to Nox, and then he would spend the next few days making it up to Sophie.

Serval would earn her forgiveness for his careless words, but for now, he really had to focus, or he wouldn’t get the chance to do so at all.

This wasn’t the kind of market that people tended to walk through and browse. Looking too long at something was more likely to get him shot than pitched a sale. He kept his head down as he walked quickly through the aisles, looking for all intents and purposes like he was on a mission.

The people running their stalls had their wares carefully hidden or in boxes and didn’t try to tempt him over. A few others were walking around, their heads down too. All of them dressed like him – covering as much as possible with only weapons bared. He didn’t see another allowee, but he saw plenty of fangs and claws and quills as they all gave each other a wide berth.

For all the people here, it was unnervingly quiet. Conversations happened in low whispers, deals being made and trades happening with as little sound as possible. As though everyone was afraid of the authorities hearing them from the depths of space. No one wanted to be recognized. They didn’t want their business broadcasted.

Serval got a few random shots of the market itself. It would make for good background images. But otherwise, he kept himself focused on the target.

He saw the guard at the building first. The stone blended in with everything else. But the male in front of the dull, stone colored door did not.

He was covered, like everyone else, but the bright, yellow quills on his head with his elongated snout identified him as a ratchi. The sight was something of a relief. Ratchi had excellent senses of smell, but they required humid air to really work. He would be nose blind on this planet. His clothes were dark and unremarkable like everyone else’s, but they were of considerably better quality. His eyes shined in the light as he tracked everyone around him, one hand resting on his weapon, his tail still and unmoving. A hunter waiting for prey.

The moment Serval caught sight of him, he stepped off the path and between two small shuttles, creating something like a thin alleyway. One of them was closed up, quiet, while the other’s back end was open in the opposite direction. No one could see him as he stepped just out of sight. He poked his finger around the ship, getting a couple shots of the guard, but quickly pulled it back as he kept one eye on him.

The entrance was just how it had been described. A door and a couple steps that sank into the sand, no doubt covering a longer staircase that descended straight down.

Okay. Now he just needed to find a way to-

“Umph!”

A hand slapped over his mouth, yanking back. His olules struck out, smacking against whoever was grabbing him. But he could feel the fabric underneath them. He couldn’t sting through thick clothing, which this person was wearing.

“Calm the tentacles, Serval,” an amused voice whispered.

Serval’s heart dropped as annoyance rose. He ripped his head free, turning to face Korvii who was backing away from him, grinning as he lifted his goggles off his three eyes. The other male rivaled him in height, but definitely outclassed him in mass. He was large, with long hair tied back in a single tail, his entire body covered in camocloth – a fabric that changed color according to the domini’s camouflaging skin to help them blend in.

“What are you doing?” Serval hissed, annoyed at the sight of him.

“I should ask you that,” Korvii smirked, crossing his arms. “You were the one going off about not helping each other and stuff, and now I see you here going after my mark.”

“Your mark?”

“Yeah.” Korvii leaned his head forward a bit, then back before he could be seen. “The person trafficker I’m after is supposed to be using that place as a storage waypoint for his ‘deliveries’. I’m chasing down some naughty farasie politicians who got involved in some amgris trading. Amgris-”

“I know what amgris is,” Serval cut him off, not willing to tolerate any patronizing explanations. “But that is my mark.”

“Oh? What are you chasing down?”

Serval hesitated.

Korvii frowned, giving him a look with just a hint of hurt. Reminding Serval uncomfortably of their conversations and his baseless accusations.

“Animal trafficking,” he muttered over the roiling in his belly. “My mark is a prince who uses this guy as a partner for rare and exotic animal trading.”

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