Page 61 of Silent Lucidity

The people on these streets were more diverse than perhaps anywhere else in the Undercity. Species of all sorts, hailing from all corners of the universe, milled about—most were likely here for a taste of some exotic food from their homeworlds, purveyed by one of the many vendors lining the streets, or to obtain exotic clothing or jewelry that wasn’t sold in the shops in higher sectors.

All manners of body adornment and enhancement were on display—hair colored in a multitude of hues; piercings of various body parts, including horns, tusks, and teeth; tattoos in more patterns and styles than Tenthil could count, some glowing, somemoving; clothing of wildly varying fashion and material; cybernetic limbs and implants. The latter were particularly prevalent with the rough-looking groups who tended to linger on the edges of the crowd, often near unmarked doors. Many of them were members of various gangs—this was one of the few sectors where no single gang claimed dominance, and a loose agreement prevented violence between the groups. Many more were hired thugs guarding the entrances to businesses—not the shops selling exotic food or clothing, but the brothels, the smuggling rings, the unregistered cybertech surgeons, the drug dealers, and the forgers.

He glanced down at Abella to find her studying their surroundings with unmasked wonder; she’d seen the Undercity before, but she’d likely never seen it likethis. Under different circumstances, he’d have taken her all around Arthos, would have shown her everything there was to see, even if it took a thousand lifetimes, but the city wasn’t safe for them.

And it probably never would be.

Tenthil led her down a side street and toward the alleyway entrance to which they’d been directed. The crowd was thinner, here, as it always was off the main stretches. He used his free arm to sweep back the side of his coat, exposing his holstered blaster.

Sometimes, such a display was enough to deter would-be troublemakers.

It did not, however, deter the prostitutes who stood at various intervals along the street. They unashamedly displayed theirwaresto Tenthil as he passed, beckoning him closer. At least two dozen species were represented amongst them—some male, some female, some falling into neither category, and at least couple who seemed to fit both.

Abella glared at them, and a small growl rumbled in her throat. “He’s taken.”

When several of them—females included—shifted their focus to her and made the same offers, she turned her face away and nestled closer to Tenthil.

“I’m taken too.”

He couldn’t hold back a small smile, despite everything, but something powerful stirred inside him all the same—she’d claimed him. She’d claimed him as her own, astakenby her.

Abella looked at him with a faint smile and quietly asked, “Is it weird that I think some of them are hot?”

Though he knew his claim on her was not under any true threat, his smile fell. He was glad for the mask in that moment, if only because it hid his bared teeth from her. She washis. He instincts would tolerate no competition.

Unfortunately, even in a city as massive and chaotic as Arthos, it would be frowned upon to murder other males who looked upon his mate covetously.

He shifted his gaze to the alley that was their destination. It was marked by a holographic sign a few meters from its entrance—an advertisement for a nearby restaurant specializing in various roasted larva and worms. The sign’s three-dimensional projections left little to the imagination; Abella turned her head to the side, covered her mouth with a hand, and gagged.

But it the three beings standing at the alley’s entrance that caught his attention, not the vibrant sign. Two cren—each nearly a third of a meter taller than Tenthil, with dark skin and tusks as long as his thumb—leaned against the walls, with a burly, furred azhera standing between them, seemingly engaged in a casual conversation. Though none of them wore uniforms or visible combat armor, the blasters on their hips were high-quality.

It was best not to have explicit guards posted in plain sight for places like this—it would only make people wonder what they were guarding. A group of random thugs standing around an alleyway, while still visible, was far less suspicious.

Tenthil dipped his head closer to Abella’s. “If you must shoot, aim for the head.”

She straightened, eyes wide as she looked at the guards. “Do…you think I will have to?”

“Always a chance.”

He lifted his head and continued his approach, releasing his bioelectrical disruption field so as not to rouse suspicion on the surveillance systems the forger undoubtedly had in place nearby.

The guards noticed his intent from several meters away; the cren fixed their gazes on him, their irises—one set yellow, the other green—vibrant against their black sclerae. But it was the azhera who stepped forward, blocking Tenthil and Abella’s path.

The azhera met Tenthil’s gaze, flared his nostrils, and released a low growl barely audible over the sounds from the street. His bestial face twisted into a snarl, pupils expanding. “Alley’s closed. Walk on.”

“Here on business,” Tenthil rasped; the words were like broken glass in his throat. The azhera’s scent set him on edge; though they looked nothing alike, he had a sense that his people and the azhera were more similar than appearances suggested.

The azhera smelled like a predator. Few species in this city possessed such scents.

“Walk. On.” The azhera bared his fangs, fur rising in agitation, and the two cren pushed off the walls they’d been leaning against to loom behind their companion.

“We’re here to see Alkorin,” Abella said, “to arrange a naming ceremony.”

Shifting his attention to Abella, the azhera narrowed his eyes, leaned forward, and sniffed the air. A growl sounded deep in Tenthil’s chest; he drew Abella back and turned his body to position himself in front of her.

The azhera exhaled heavily through his nose. “She wears your scent, hunter.”

“She is mine,” Tenthil replied.

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