Page 8 of Bound

As much as the dome was death, it didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy its vicious simplicity. I growl under my breath as I stomp back through the dwelling, booting the cleaning bots out of the way. Fenek’s reliance on tech is severely overdone.

I reach the door as the delivery drone drops off my order. I take the delivery with a snort, and the drone zips away.

It makes me flex my claws with the thought of chasing it down. I feel like I haven’t stretched my wings in forever.

I also haven’t had an opportunity to visit some violence on anyone since this morning, and it’s troubling me.

The rest of the day is spent avoiding going inside and installing the security measures I agreed with Fenek along with a few additional ones I feel are worth including, regardless of whether I’ve run them past my employer.

It’s dark by the time I finish. I could do with a bath, but I want to be sure the systems work, and given the assassin was only here two nights ago, I can’t be sure he won’t try again so soon. If it was me, I’d be back to check the new security arrangements and to see what I need to do in order to fulfill my contract.

Fenek has made some powerful enemies if they’re attempting to get to him or Chrissie in this way. Not for the first time today, I question exactly what it is my new employer does.

But then, I have no choice. As the lights go out inside the house, I pull my wings around me and settle down in the shadows.

No one will hurt my little spark while I’m on watch.

CHRISSIE

I didn’t sleep well, which is nothing new. Aches run through my joints in the night, jerking me awake, and then I end up lying in the dark and staring at the ceiling, watching all the lights from Tatatunga streaking in waves, making patterns and trying to think of nothing.

Especially not thinking about the hulking former gladiator who’s been haunting Fenek’s dwelling for the past three nova-days. The one I’ve been doing my level best to avoid. The one who has my stomach dipping and my cheeks heating every time I spot a flick of feather.

I’m jerked out of a shallow sleep by sounds outside my window. Given what happened a few days ago, I’m a little more careful about getting up, making sure I have my stick before I peep out into the yard below.

The sight which greets me is not one I’m going to forget in a hurry. Below me in the early morning light, Rych is working his way through a routine involving a very large sword and very tight shorts. His wings whirl around as he takes slow, sinuous steps, each one followed by a deliberate cutting motion. His skin is sheened with sweat and the morning dew, and his faceis deadly serious as he completes the dance with a final stab through the air.

I am not going to lie—it has to be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. Admittedly, spending time with greasy mechanics and a band who hate each other’s guts hasn’t exactly exposed me to the best of male-kind, but Rych is as fine as fine can be. Even my bad leg has stopped shaking.

Then he turns and stares straight up at my window, lifting his sword to his chest, the blade pointing to the sky as he salutes.

I pull back instantly, embarrassed. He can’t have seen me. I’m hidden behind a heavy curtain. He couldn’t have known I was there, could he?

My body runs hot and cold as I sit down heavily on the bed, my lungs working overtime until I give myself a good talking to.

I’ve a hard enough time surviving as it is at the whim of Fenek. He’s the only reason I have a roof over my head. I don’t exactly know what I’d do without him, given Trefa and the capital Tatatunga are particularly unforgiving for those of us who are at less than full health.

I can’t risk pissing him off, not least by fooling around with the bodyguard. Even if his body is something I’d very much like to see more of.

Oh boy, I’d like to have more of him…

I used to hate sensible. I used to love being wild. My dad always called me his whirlwind because I couldn’t sit still. Now I can hardly move.

Washed and dressed, I make my way down to the kitchen, hoping I’ve missed Rych. He’s got to have other things to do than parading around in the yard mostly naked.

But, as the door slides open, I’m greeted by the sight of slate gray feathers hunched over the kitchen island which sends my heart skittering in my chest.

“Good nova-morning, mistress,” the food prep bot sings out as I hover at the entrance.

Looks like I don’t have any other option but to enter now. The bot whirls into life, making my breakfast, and Rych doesn’t turn to look at me.

Like yesterday, he’s eating a pile of food. He’s still shirtless, but he has changed his tight shorts for tight pants, and the sword is nowhere to be seen.

“Morning, Rych,” I say breezily.

He grunts.

Delightful. Is this really the graceful creature from earlier who undertook a weapon filled ballet outside my window?

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