Page 85 of Stars in Umbra
‘Thefokk?’ Mo muttered, a knot of cold suspicion tightening in his gut.
The man had the moxie to call him by his full name, which few were privy to.
He had no clue who this man was, yet he spoke with an infuriating familiarity.
Mo stood frozen, with Caidan’s face flashing in his inner eye, as a whisper of a memory attempted to claw its way to the surface.
Who the hell was he?
A voice from behind him broke the silence.
‘His full name is Caidan Thrall,’ Mirage said, materializing beside him in a gleaming graphite sheath gown, her heels clicking against the polished stone.
Her holo earrings pulsed with subtle streams of data. ‘He’s a wealthy Dunian industrialist with a finger in every resource manufacturing pie you can think of, from arms contracts to mining assets and supply chain logistics. He also has some form of political influence that reeks of rotten privilege.’
‘Regardless, he was not on the guest list,’ Mo rasped, brow furrowed. ‘He was harassing our patrons.’
‘True, and he’s rather intimate with you. Or at least, he believes he is,’ Mirage replied, her gaze fixed on his face.
‘I don’t care who he thinks he knows,’ Mo shot back, his jaw tensed. ‘My duty isn’t to indulge gatecrashers, no matter how wealthy they are. My job is to move them along. Without a free drink or a damn canapé.’
Mirage’s lips curved into a slow, knowing simper. ‘Now that’s the Molan I know.’
‘Don’t call me that,’ he rasped. ‘Only my mother had the privilege.’
‘My apologies,’ the synth AI intoned before she melted back into the crowd.
Mo furrowed his brow and stared into the skies where the green flyer disappeared.
Who the fokk was Caidan Thrall?
The stranger’s moniker was now a haunting echo in Mo’s mind; a whisper that refused to be silenced.
He sensed it held the key to a door that had long since been locked.
He filed away the encounter for further exploration and prowled back to the his station, lost in thought.
‘Za ki zama tawa kuma uwar ‘ya’yana.’
The rasped murmur tore through Mo’s lips, unbidden as he drove his hips into Rina from behind, limbs, breaths, and strokes entwined.
It was hours after the ball, that godforsaken torture of an event.
The negative aspects of the evening, however, had been eclipsed by her, the woman who was taking over his soul, mind, and spirit.
All night long, he observed her work the room with a mesmerizing grace.
She moved among generals, admirals, and the most senior defense heads in Pegasi, her presence an undeniable force.
She had a luminous power, her charm unmistakable, her strength unbowed, her style in a league of its own.
Her body, too, was a masterpiece, lithe legs encased in a dress that made every step a calculated sin. Each sway of her hips was a metronome, syncing to the wild pulse that leapt in his throat.
Heavens over Eden, her hair. Tonight it fell in a gleaming torrent that framed her face, and cascaded down her back, making his fingers itch, wanting to stroke it.
The loose waves by her cheeks softened the fire in her expression just enough to make him ache with need.
Her lips were glossy, curled in a secret little smirk, but it was her eyes he adored.
