Page 3 of Only Cold Depths
Dessert for two is a marvelous idea, I replied, my voice husky with longing.
A satisfied rumble echoed through the bond, along with a light, feathery touch, as though Kyrion was trailing his fingertips down my spine. More desire spiked through me, and my steps quickened. The sooner I got back to the ship, the sooner we could forget about the rest of the galaxy and focus on each other again.
Kyrion didn’t telepathically speak to me again, but I could still feel his presence in my mind, just as I knew that he could feel me in his. When our truebond had first formed when we’d been trapped together on a broken ship, I’dhatedthe feel of him, all those tight, tiny knots that tied us together, and Kyrion had despised the unwanted connection just as much. But now, after everything we’d been through, his presence comforted me, like an anchor that was always there to steady me. The bond also added another level of heady sensation to the already amazing chemistry we shared.
Still smiling, I reached the edge of the marketplace, which sprawled across an open square lined with palm trees. I stopped and glanced back over my shoulder. The last thing I needed to do was lead someone back to our ship—
A pop of neon pink caught my eye, and a woman with short, spiky pink hair and pale skin stepped out of an aisle, her head swiveling back and forth as though she was searching for someone. She was dressed in a tight tactical tank top, cargo pants, and boots, all in a dull, durable brown. A blaster was nestled in a holster on her right thigh, while a shock baton and a pair of polyplastic handcuffs dangled from her metal belt.
A blaster, a shock baton, and handcuffs—all the tools of a bounty hunter.
Given all the near misses Kyrion and I had had with bounty hunters over the last few weeks, I’d gotten good at recognizing them. Just looking at the woman made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and my seer magic whispered an extra warning, adding to my screaming instincts. I stepped to my left to duck behind a tree out of her line of sight.
Too late. The woman’s dark brown gaze settled on me, and she lifted her hand to her ear and said a few words, talking to someone through a comms device. Then she dropped her hand, yanked her shock baton off her belt, and strode in my direction.
I muttered a curse. Somehow the woman had seen through my disguise and locked on to me like a heat-seeking missile.
Forget hiding. It was time to run for my life—again.
Iwhirledaroundandsprinted away from the pink-haired woman. Several side streets branched off from the square, all going in different directions like the spokes on a transport wheel. I picked the first street I came to and hurried along it. My boots smacked out a quick, frantic rhythm on the painted cobblestones, and people ambling along the sidewalk jumped out of the way as I hurried past.
Vesper?Kyrion’s voice sounded in my mind again.Vesper, what’s wrong?
A bounty hunter is chasing me! I’m headed your way! Get ready to leave as soon as I get back to the ship!
Kyrion growled, and his fury crashed over me like an icy river, cold enough to make my teeth chatter.
I made one turn after another, moving closer toward the spaceport, but I couldn’t shake my pink-haired pursuer. Every time I zigged, she did the same, and even when I circled around and doubled back, her footsteps pounded in the distance.
Frustration spiked through me, but I picked up my pace. By this point, most folks would have been gasping for air, but I had an oxygen optimization, or O2, enhancement. A special liquid had been injected into my lungs that greatly increased their capacity and functionality, so I didn’t need as much air to breathe as other people, even when I was exerting myself.
With every breath I drew in, an answering amount of fresh, steady energy flowed through my body—Kyrion’s energy. Even with my O2 enhancement, my legs would have given out, and I would have been forced to stop running a few streets ago. But the rogue Arrow was in amazing physical shape, and our truebond was letting me tap into his strength and endurance—even if I wasn’t quite sure how I was doing it.
Then again, desperation helped people do all sorts of unexpected things.
I kept running. Four streets later, I glanced back over my shoulder. I didn’t see the bounty hunter or hear her footsteps anymore, so I darted down an alley, sprinted to the far end, and ducked behind a large trash bin. The stench of rotting food and other garbage wafted through the air, and I twitched my nose to hold back a sneeze.
I dropped my bag of food onto the grimy cobblestones and ran my hands over my clothes. Someone in the marketplace must have realized who I was and tagged me with a tracker. That was the only explanation for how the pink-haired bounty hunter had followed me through all these twists and turns.
My hands skimmed first one piece of fabric, then another . . .
There.
My fingers brushed across something that felt like a small button. I ripped the piece of metal off my cloak, dropped it to the ground, and crushed it with the heel of my boot. Next, I reached up and tapped three times on the colorizer bobby pin still nestled in my hair. The bounty hunter had already seen me as a blonde, but maybe she would overlook me if I was suddenly a redhead.
I yanked a piece of my hair forward, but instead of red, my locks were now their regular dark brown with a few auburn highlights. Drat. The bobby pin was out of juice.
Even worse, sweat was streaming down my face, and the salty drops had loosened the sculpted pieces of plastipaper that formed my fake nose and scarred chin. I peeled off the papers and popped the itchy violet contacts out of my eyes and tossed them all aside.
The only thing I could do now to change my appearance was get rid of my cloak, so I ripped it off and threw it down. Maybe the bounty hunter would be looking for the long gray garment instead of my blue clothes.
I scooped up the shopping bag from the ground. My fingers itched with the urge to pluck my stormsword out of the dark depths, but carrying the weapon would be akin to having a bright red sign flashing over my head.Look at me! I have a stormsword! I’m Vesper Quill!
I left the sword hidden inside the bag, threw the straps over my right shoulder, and hurried forward. I needed to get out of the alley before the bounty hunter zeroed in on the tracker’s last location.
As if my thought had summoned her, the pink-haired woman stepped into view at the front of the alley. I stopped in my tracks. She let out a low whistle, and footsteps smacked on the cobblestones, growing louder and closer.
Four men ran into the alley and skidded to a stop. The men yanked blasters off their belts and leveled the weapons at my chest, while the pink-haired bounty hunter twirled the shock baton around in her hand again, making it glimmer a bright, warning silver.
