Page 16 of Ruin

He fought a losing battle with a smile, his enamored gaze softening as he glanced down at the top of her head.

The din of bartering and alien dialects mingling grew as they neared the market. Spices, roasting meats, and a hundred other exotic aromas hung thick in the recycled air.

They turned down a side street, tucked between two towering hab units. Ducking his head under a line of hanging clothes, Ruin slowed to scan the faces when they emerged into the plaza.

This level was different from those he usually spent time on. Intended for the permanent residents of the spaceport, the crowds were thinner, the atmosphere calmer.

A vibrant array of stalls and kiosks spilled across the open-air plaza, the sprawl of fabric awnings and simulated sun-warmed paths a welcoming departure from the dark, sordid levels below.

Angling his head down, he caught Lira's pale green eyes rounding with wonder, lingering on the colorful wares.

“You’re right. It is quieter here. That’s nice.” She glanced up at him, gaze soft. “Thank you.”

He led her forward at an unhurried pace, letting her absorb the sights—the riotous colors, the elaborate displays, the hanging baskets overflowing with lush alien foliage.

As they walked farther into the market, her attention bounced from one vendor to the next. Though she still flinched at sudden loud sounds and voices, she was visibly dazzled by the array of exotic goods.

In between sweeps, Ruin found his own gaze lingering far longer than necessary on the fullness of her smiling lips, the delicate arch of her neck as she strained to take in their surroundings, and the glint of sunlight catching in the pale strands of her hair dancing in the simulated breeze.

Moving from stall to stall, he watched the way her face lit up at the handcrafted metalwork, oohing over delicate inlays. He smiled at the way she gasped at a stall filled with caged singing sphinx moths, their multi-hued wings shifting in prismatic rainbows.

With every minute that passed, she relaxed a little more, flinched a little less. Her smiles came quicker, brighter. And with every one, his heart swelled.

Fuck, he was getting soft. Getting attached.

This was exactly the kind of shit that’d get him killed on a job. He needed to shut it down before those threads binding them together grew too strong to sever.

But then she turned that radiant smile on him, the scar on her cheek crinkling, and all thoughts of detachment fled.

He steered her toward a garment vendor's booth, wanting to get her some clothing that actually fit. Bolts of fabrics in dozens of shades and textures spilled from the stall, hanging in artful cascades.

“See anythin’ you like, little bird?”

She craned her head back to give him a startled look. “Me?”

He nodded. “You need clothes that fit. Pick out whatever you like.”

Lira blinked up at him, expression cautiously hopeful. “Really?”

“Really.”

The elderlyThrogianfemale running the stall bustled over, her shimmering purple skin catching the light as she moved. Lira shrank back, the move appearing reflexive, until Ruin settled a hand on her lower back in silent reassurance.

“Welcome!” the vendor trilled, all four of her eyes crinkling with delight. “Ah, a Lurian and his pretty little mate. How may I assist?”

Ignoring the heat creeping up the tips of his ears at her assumption, he nodded politely, then tipped his head toward Lira. “She needs a new wardrobe.”

“Wonderful, wonderful! Come, sweet girl. Let Veyla take care of you.”

With gentle ushering and an encouraging nod from him, Lira disappeared behind a thick curtain and into a private alcove where customers could change.

As soon as they were out of sight, he prowled the perimeter of the stall. Once he was confident it was secure, he relaxed fractionally, leaning back against the counter.

When the attendant emerged, she gave him a sly, sidelong glance. “You're very protective of your mate.”

He frowned, discomfited by how right the title felt.

Lira wasn't his mate. But fuck if he didn't feel possessive as all hells about her.