Page 105 of Stars in Nova

‘You know I hate when you do that,’ he snarled.

‘Quit whining and just view the footage, mofo,’ Kisan ground out, tapping his temple.

Sax’s eyes dilated.

The Rider wrenched himself away as the images of Orilia’s devastation played out in Sax’s mind—scorched land, shattered cities, torn families, visions of the Corilians toting crat cyborg components.

When it ended, the Sarabaite exhaled, his fists clenching and unclenching.

He nailed Kisan with a long glare. ‘We made a solid promise always to eliminate the crats wherever we came across them,’ he said, his tone grudging. ‘So I’m in. However, if this goes sideways, don’t expect me to play nice.’

He prowled a few feet to where an amulet bag lay discarded on the ground.

Swinging it over his shrouded head, he arranged its straps to sit cross-ways over his muscled chest, then strode toward the spaceport without warning or preamble.

Kisan and Samira exchanged glances before tracking after the tall, brawny, cassocked man.

A Love Addict

The chaos of the spaceport died away as the rear deck hatch closed.

Sax sauntered into the Cephei’s bridge, his boots thudding on the polished floors.

He flung his bag onto a console and grabbed a crash couch as if he owned it, leaning back with a lazy sprawl that screamed disdainful confidence.

His narrowed eyes scanned Samira as though she were a puzzle missing a few pieces.

‘You’re Orilian, aren’t you?’ he rasped with an edge.

Samira met his gaze with a cool smile. ‘Vaelorii, to be exact,’ she corrected.

Sax’s smirk widened, and he tilted his head, sizing her up. ‘Figures. A fish out of water.’

‘You mean the Quarians.’

‘Same difference. I bet you miss your cozy lakes and caverns. Must be a bitch out here in the big, bad galaxy.’

Samira didn’t flinch.

Nevertheless, her eyes glimmered. ‘You’re one to speak, douche hole. Aren’t you the galaxy’s most unconventional monk? Tell me, how does the vow of poverty square with moonshine smuggling?’

Standing in the doorway, Kisan bit back a chuckle as Sax straightened, his smirk faltering for a second before he leaned forward, his elbows on the table. ‘Touché. But at least my side hustle keeps the lights on. What’s your claim to fame? Turning puddles into projectiles?’

Samira crossed her arms, leaning against the galley wall. ‘Better than pretending to be holy while hoarding stolen treasure. Is that a sapphire rod on your sanctified belt, or are you just compensating?’

Sax barked out a laugh, loud and sudden, startling even Kisan. ‘She bites. I like her,’ he said, shooting a glance at Kisan. ‘Though you could’ve warned me I’d be dealing with a mermaid with an attitude.’

‘Don’t worry,’ she murmured, her tone cutting. ‘I promise not to bitch slap your face with water which hurts ten times more than you’d imagine. Unless, of course, you give me a reason.’

The two locked eyes, glaring at each other like opposing sides of a chessboard. Then, almost simultaneously, their scowls softened into grins, and the tension broke with a shared chuckle.

Kisan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorway. ‘You two done?’

‘For now,’ Sax said, reclining back in his chair. He gestured to Samira with a lazy wave. ‘She’s alright—for a water wench.’

‘And you’re tolerable—for an arrogant hypocrite,’ Samira shot back, her lips quirking. ‘Truce?’ she replied, arching a brow as she sat.

‘Truce,’ Sax growled with a slight smirk.

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