Page 31 of Revealed

“Serge has had a lot of Southern brides, and he likes to pick up their expressions.” Dakar ran a hand through his loose hair. “Stick around him long enough and he’ll start talking about buttering his biscuit.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know whatthatmeant.

Dakar pulled his hair up into a knot on the top of his head. “It’s a good thing we’re leaving. I do not want to be on the station with a fleet of hysterical Serges."

As Dakar continued onto our ship, I cast one last glance at the newly arrived stream of women Serge was now fluttering around with his hands flapping.

Then I saw her.

For a moment, my heart stopped. Dark hair, that confident set of shoulders I'd recognize anywhere. But it couldn't be. It was impossible. Allie wouldn’t be here.

I blinked hard, and when I looked again, the back of the woman I’d thought was Allie was gone.

"Impossible," I told myself as I followed Dakar up the ramp.

As I strapped myself into my seat, I thought about what I was doing. I’d delayed joining an Inferno Force crew for this chance. I was risking my career and breaking a dozen rules to find her. I hoped I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Allie

Istumbled off the transport, my legs wobbling like I’d run a marathon. Not that I would ever do something like that, which might have been why my legs were having a hard time recovering. But it wasn’t only my legs. The multiple jumps through space had left my stomach doing somersaults, and the world around me seemed to tilt and sway. I sucked in a deep breath, fighting the urge to lose what little I'd managed to eat before the journey.

Some of the women I'd traveled with seemed perfectly fine, chatting excitedly as they disembarked. Maybe theydidrun marathons, the overachieving assholes. Others, like me, looked decidedly green. I’d left one poor soul still sitting in her seat, head between her knees.

"You can do this, Allie," I said under my breath. “Remember why you're here. It'll all be worth it when you find Maxxon."

As my vision steadied, I took in my surroundings, tipping my head back to peer at the soaring ceiling crisscrossed with exposed pipes and then the rows of sleek spaceships and fighter jets that stretched far in all directions. The air was thick with the scent of fuel, mingling with the medley of perfumes worn by the women around me.

"Welcome, welcome!" a shrill voice cut through the cacophony. I turned to see the strangest being I'd ever laid eyes on. Short, with vivid purple hair that stood on end and seemed to be morphing to a bright shade of pink before my eyes. He wore a shimmering suit that reflected light with every movement and would have been in high style sometime in the mid 1970s.

"I'm Serge.” He waved what looked like a clipboard over his head. "Oh, my word, there are so many of you! Reina! Reina, where are you?"

A tall, willowy creature glided up, her blue hair defying gravity in a vertical twist. “Right here."

I blinked hard, wondering if the space jumps had addled my brain. These aliens looked nothing like Maxxon or the other Drexians I’d met. I was curious what species they were, but I didn’t dare ask. It seemed rude. Also, I wasn’t completely sure I could open my mouth without spewing.

As Serge waved his clipboard some more, Reina started herding us toward another group of women standing near a wide doorway "This way, ladies! We'll get you all settled in no time."

There was no way I could ask either of these overworked and overwhelmed aliens about Maxxon. I suspected that me bringing up the fact that I hadn’t come to be matched but instead to find a Drexian I’d hooked up with on Earth would send Serge into anapoplectic shock. I'd just have to find Maxxon on my own. How hard could it be to find one Drexian on a space station?

As we were led from the hangar bay into the interior of the station, I drew in a sharp breath. The corridors were nothing like the utilitarian hallways I'd expected. Instead, they were sleek and modern, with gently curving, white walls that seemed to glow with an inner light. The air was cool and crisp, with a faint scent I couldn't place—something clean and slightly sweet.

I ran my hand along one of the shiny white walls as we walked. It was impossibly smooth, almost frictionless under my fingers. Then one side of the walls became clear, and we could see the rest of the station. My jaw dropped.

The space station that the Drexians called the Boat looked absolutely nothing like a boat. It looked like nothing I’d ever seen or could have imagined, although, to be fair, I didn’t watch much sci-fi. The entire structure was like a massive double helix design with a clear exterior so you could look into space and walkways and twisting tubes cutting through the middle.

We reached what looked like an elevator—an "inclinator," Serge called it—and piled in. As the doors closed and we began to move, I was surprised to hear typical elevator Muzak. I was even more surprised when I realized it was an instrumental version of a Bananarama song. I pressed a hand over my mouth to stifle my giggles.

The inside of the inclinator pulsed with a soft lavender light as we zipped upwards, then suddenly diagonally. My stomach lurched again, and I closed my eyes, trying to quell the renewed nausea. Were we inside one of the tubes that I’d seen twisting and curving through the station?

When the doors opened, Serge ushered several women out, chattering about "Caribbean suites" and “sunsets over the Serengeti.” Before I could follow, Reina gently held me back.

"Not you, dear," she said in her breathy voice. "You're going to the Tahiti floor."

I was sure I'd misheard her. Tahiti floor? But before I could ask, the doors closed again, and we were twisting and dropping once again.

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