Page 2 of Written in the Stars

Tenacity, verve, and optimism. Those are the traits that brought humanity to the stars. Note, I said nothing of intelligence, planning, or sanity, traits humans conspicuously lack.

MY TIME AMONG THE HUMANS,BY LADY DRIDSHAMA

Shelving books was never-ending work, not least because I always got distracted. This time it was a copy ofLegends of the Outer Fleet, a beautifully illustrated collection of ghost stories from the Second Empire. At least a hundred years old, it was a genuine treasure of a find, and one that I’d never get a fair price for on Talbrek.

Nebula hopped up onto the book, batting at my face with her white-furred paws. Thankfully, she’d learned to keep her claws in, but she still made sure that I knew she wasn’tmycat. At best, I was her human.

“Nebula, off. You know you’re not allowed on the books.” As usual, she paid no attention, sitting herself down on a full-color print of the gutted battleshipNumenoncrackling with ghostly flames. Her eyes wide, she looked up at me and meowed.

“Feed Nebula. No Food Ever.” The vocoder on her collar translated plaintive yowls into understandable language. Sometimes I wondered whether buying it had been a good investment or an act of masochism.

I sighed. Pushing her off would only mean a struggle that ended with bloody scratches, a torn book, and an upset cat. “You’re an extortionist, you know that? Alright, fine, you can have a treat if you get off my book.”

While she never understood commands, the word ‘treat’ got an instant response. She spread her wings and soared to the counter where I kept my bag of bribes. The wings were always a surprise, no matter how often I saw them. Folded, they blended with her white fur, but extended, they picked up all the colors of the rainbow. With casual grace, she flew to the bookcase behind the counter, perching on the top shelf and looking down at me with imperious disdain.

Who thought it would be a good idea to put wings on a cat?Maybe it was some crazed geneticist, or perhaps Nebula was an alien from a species that coincidentally looked like an Earth cat with the wings of a giant bird of paradise.

What mattered was that she’d adopted me and my shop, and I badly needed the company. “We’re in the same boat, aren’t we, Nebula?”

I slipped behind the counter, abandoning the tale of haunted starships to dig into the bag of meat pellets and drop a couple in her cracked food bowl. She swooped down from her perch, a deadly predator pouncing on the inanimate pellets and savaging them.

“Those are literally the cheapest protein Jyrx sells,” I said, leaning down to scratch her behind the ears. “I don’t know why you make such a big fuss over them. If only every extortionist on the station were so cheap to pay off.”

“Treat,” she explained. I didn’t press the question.

The chime of the shop door sliding open called my attention away from Nebula. Customers looking for books were a rarity aboard Talbrek Station, and I tried to make everyone who stepped through Written in the Stars’ door feel welcome.

And this customer was new, an even rarer sight. I’d never seen him before, and trust me, I’d have remembered—tall, handsome in a rough and roguish way, broad shouldered, and heavily muscled. His eyes caught my attention most of all, piercing violet orbs that pinned me in place with the intensity of their gaze. Deep blue skin rippled over the iron cords of his muscles, decorated with black markings that might have been natural or tattoos.

If that wasn’t enough to distract me, he wore his jacket open, showing off his bare torso beneath. Washboard abs drew my eyes downward, and I found myself torn between relief and disappointment when I saw his pants. A heavy belt supported gray utility pants, but he carried no weapons or even holsters. That was another rarity on Talbrek.

Watching the calm, confident grace with which he moved, I wondered if he needed any weapons. He looked deadly enough without them. And sexy, too. What would those long-fingered hands be like on my skin, I wondered, my cheeks heating.

As he approached the counter, weaving around the haphazard stacks of books, I clasped my hands behind my back. Fighting off the sudden urge to run my fingers over his skin markings took more discipline than it should.

He didn’t wear the mark of a local gang. What remained of his clothes had obviously once been a uniform, though he’d cut the sleeves off, showing his muscular arms. He’d also removed the identifying features. Scorch marks on his epaulettes showed where he had burned away all traces of his old rank and allegiance.

And he was speaking. My face reddened as I realized he’d been talking for some time while I’d been staring at him, but in my defense, hewasunreasonably hot.

“Hi, welcome to Written in the Stars,” I said, trying not to let my embarrassment show. “I’m Megan, can I help you find something?”

His snarl bared the pointed teeth of a predator and sent a shiver through me. Fear? Yes, some, but also excitement.

“Drask,” he said, and I assumed that was his name. “Who in the fiery void thought it would be a good idea to have a bookshop here, and where can I find the idiot?”

I blinked, taken aback. It took me a second to find my voice. A second in which my temper flared up.

“You’ve found her. I’m Megan Wilson, and this is my shop. Now, what do you want from this ‘idiot?’”

If I’d expected an apology, he’d have disappointed me. He didn’t even have the grace to look sorry about accidentally insulting me to my face.

His gaze raked over me, a quick up-and-down followed by a slower, more careful examination. It felt disconcertingly like he was looking through me, baring my soul, seeing my thoughts. God, I hoped he couldn’t actually read minds. What he’d see in mine wasn’t exactly safe for work!

“I want to know why you think this is a good idea.” He gestured around at the stacks of books and other chaos around us. “Why would anyone open a bookshop here?”

“Not much choice,” I said, trying my very best to focus on his words rather than his voice. That hard, deep growl did things to me, and it wasn’t easy to think of an answer. “When I got stranded here, all I had was my book collection, so I made the best of it.”

He frowned and stepped closer to the counter. “I’m surprised you found any customers here.”

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