{Gait}

The sight of Karter’s face would haunt Sagan’s memories like Rayne’s arm after her first fight with Nox. She needed a shower, a meal, and a hug. Imagine her disappointment when she arrived at Korac’s finding only the first item on her list. Maybe Pehton took him for a routine physical?

Too exhausted and starved to spare it more thought, she showered away all the dirt and blood. Didn’t bother stripping from the coat either. Not until the water ran clear. It also rinsed the axes for her. Under the spray, she remembered she removed her chain. No reason to worry. Matt would hold onto it for her.

Moments later, she hung everything to dry and slipped into a ripped tee. Nothing inappropriate peeked through the holes. Not that she’d care. She climbed into those white silk sheets from Lukemore with every intention of sleeping until the bruises healed on her heart. To wait for—

Korac.

He was screaming for her.

Sagan threw back the sheets and ran through the Seam to wherever he called her from—

Razor’s Emporium. On the mezzanine.

The Pain Curator stood against the banister with his back to the crowd. His gaze shot from her bare legs to the over-sized shirt to her shower-wet hair. Never with lust in his eyes, but always with something more predatory shining in them.

At the sight of him, with Korac’s fear screaming in her head, Sagan lost control. Atramentous, defined as dark mode for Icari and Progeny alike. The iris swallowed the eyes, wings often detracted, and voices triplicated in pitch.

With her eyes transformed to a solid purple and a black slit for a pupil, Sagan stalked toward Razor. Her wings opened from her back and decimated shelves of his precious wares. She closed her eyes and accessed the more important sense with a deep breath.

When she opened them again, the conduit Sagan sought split beside her just a crack. With her voice in three pitches, she demanded, “Where is Korac, Razor?”

The Pain Curator handled this a little too well. Fascinated and studious, but not frightened. Exhilarated and impressed, but not concerned.

This bothered Sagan immensely.

In his smooth rich voice, not at all trembling, Razor answered, “While you dealt with matters on your homeworld, I invited him here for the memory dive I promised you. Under Pehton’s supervision, of course.”

So reasonable. So courteous. Damn him and damn her. Razor was a creep. Sagan felt it in her bones, but the man never once gave her concrete evidence to believe it. Let alone punish him for it.

“Seamswalker, where does that go?”

Oh, yea. All that growling and snarling to their side came from the conduit she’d left slightly cracked. Maybe that’s why her head swam. Or maybe the adrenaline she barely mustered to rush over and save Korac left her dizzy. Yea, that was it—

The conduit closed, and Sagan felt weightless. The crowded Emporium floor tipped to the ceiling. She groaned. Something warm dripped to her lip from her nose, and honestly, she couldn’t take anymore.

Razor stomped forward to catch Sagan when her knees gave. Too much. So hungry. So tired. Vanilla smelled nice on him. But the blood—

“Sagan.”

Her name from Korac’s lips spoken with so much love and concern. Warmth suffused her like a hot fire against the cold of a winter’s night. She opened her eyes. The moment they found him on the first floor, Sagan caught her second wind.

“Korac.”

With one Seamswalk left in her and a barefoot sprint across the floor, she sprung up into his open arms. Unsealed nacre cuffs fell to the floor. He enveloped her with a secretive smirk, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to further cement herself to him. Deep breath of his scent. Feel his pulse through his clothes.

The Seamswalker kissed over the war criminal’s nacre, uncaring of their audience. Korac would protect her, and Sagan would save him from whatever made him scream. There were no two people safer in the entire Vast Collective.

Clinging to him, exhausted, she glanced up at his face. She caught him glaring beyond her to the mezzanine. Within the same heartbeat, he looked down at her. Softly, he asked, “Are you all right?”

Karter’s face flashed in Sagan’s conscience. The subdued cast over her friends’ eyes followed. All their progress—the Vittle crop plantation, the education halls in the chateau, and the quantum communicator—utterly destroyed. And then, for a moment, she thought—

Well, she wasn’t entirely sure what she thought. Korac went missing. She sensed his fear and need for her. Here. Did she think Razor chained him in the basement? If so, why would she continue interacting with such an unstable engagement? The mission. That’s why.

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“No.” Sagan swallowed and muttered, “Can we please go home?”

“Take from me what you need.” He kissed the top of her head and glanced down at Pehton where she appeared beside him.

She gazed up at the mezzanine with fear tightening around her garnet eyes.

“Executive Warden, I apologize for the cuffs.” Korac startled the Lyrik.

“Fuck it. I’ll never hear the end of it, but the scene you two just put on more than made up for it. Hope you’re prepared for the backlash because here he comes.”

Pehton nodded toward the open floor, but Sagan didn’t need to see. Korac regularly held her without an ounce of strain, but the Pain Curator’s approach caused his muscles to tense as the Icarean General tightened his hold.

Sagan cherished it.

Razor made certain to stand where she could see him, even with half her face pressed into Korac’s chest. His voice set to kind, he offered his farewells, “Warden, General, I hope you found the memory an immersive and responsive experience. Please take care of the Seamswalker for us. Her presence always lights up the Emporium.” He met her eyes momentarily. The orange and green looked subdued, like muted stained glass.

Sagan hurt his feelings when she accused him of ill-will toward her Icarean General. If she thought about it, Razor was nothing but gracious to her. Creepy, of course. But twice in the last two days, she got in his face over offenses without a shred of evidence to implicate him. And she did it with pure conviction.

She startled Korac when she reached out for the Pain Curator. Razor stared at the offered hand and then into her eyes, reticent. It affected her. Eventually, he reached out two fingers and pressed them to the pulse point in her wrist.

Razor wanted them to start over. This was his greeting. He kept his orange and green eyes on hers, sparing nothing for Korac or Pehton. Everything between them passed through her head, reliving every moment. The world spun, and her head fell back against Korac.

“Sagan?” Her lover whispered her name. Their audience would never hear the threat in it. The threat against anyone who tried to harm her. He wanted her permission. Korac’s love warmed her.

“Hungry. Tired.”

“I can set the buffet?” Razor offered. Genuinely or not, she couldn’t tell and no longer possessed the energy to try.

Sagan opened her mouth to accept the offer. The food here rocked—

“Executive Warden, would you join us for some grilled mushrooms? Sagan knows a great vendor.”

The Seamswalker almost protested until Korac rubbed a circle in her back with his warm hand spread wide. Slender fingers kneaded into her sore muscles. Yes. More of that, please. Wait, did she purr aloud?

Pehton chirped—no pun intended—cheerfully, “I’d like that a great deal, General. Let’s get you back to your cell where I will absolutely separate that girl from you.” She gave them both an exaggerated wink.

The ridiculousness of it made Sagan snicker into Korac’s band tee. Oh, dizzy.

“Thank you for an eventful evening at my Emporium. Seamswalker, until the next time. Warden, we’ll talk soon. General, submit any further requests through the proper channels.” Razor took a tablet from Matt—where did he come from—and the two left to eat all her yummy food.

Sagan fell asleep the moment they left the Emporium. Cradled in Korac’s arms, she knew nowhere safer. By the time Korac woke her, they were back in his cell without Pehton. She was awesome, so it made Sagan a little sad not to say goodbye.

“She’ll be fine. I’m more concerned with you. Try to eat something.”

She could tell he and Xelan made for a good couple. They shared certain nurturing traits. But as Korac handed Sagan the mushrooms they relished not a week ago, her stomach turned at the smell. She shook her head and pushed it away.

“If I didn’t smell any better, I’d ask if you were pregnant.” Her man just dropped that bomb on her out of nowhere and diffused it in the same second.

“Come again?”

He quirked a brow at her choice of words. It made her goofy smile and only then did he elaborate, “Maternity affects the scent of females. Only higher nacre upgrades can smell it, and only if they knew what to look for. Don’t worry. You’re not, but…” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead before cupping her jaw. “You’re losing weight. I know everything went critical recently. Is taking a break out of the question?”

Sagan barely tracked him. Too much happened, too close together. She needed to rest and find something that agreed with her stomach to eat. Not to mention her mind spiraled out of control, thinking of babies. Parenting with Korac. What would that be like—

“Hey! What’re you doing?”

The Icarean warrior scooped her off the black tiles of his cell and carried her to the white sheets of his cot. “Time for you to rest properly. Nice shirt, by the way. Elden, I don’t know if you could’ve worn anything more perfect.”

Sagan blushed. “I wasn’t trying for a statement.”

“Oh, but you gave it. Loud and clear. Might as well get a collar with my name on it.”

She yipped when he playfully slapped her ass hard enough to sting, encouraging her to crawl faster across the bed and wriggle under the sheets. Korac slipped in behind her and spooned her body with his. His warmth contrasted deliciously against the coolness of the sheets. And that’s when it occurred to her, “Hey, Korac?”

“Hmm?” He swept her hair back from her nape and kissed her.

“This is our first time sleeping together.”

“I recall our time very differently.” He chuckled.

“Ha. Ha. You know what I mean.” She huffed and settled in.

Korac draped his arm over her side and squeezed. “Good night, amos.”

Uh oh. That familiar bug bit her. Alone in the dark, questions raced through her mind. It happened when she’d sleepover with Rayne. A curiosity needled Sagan and refused to let her sleep until she asked, “Korac, before I started this mission with Razor you said the pain and control… That it was done to you?”

He kissed her hair and assured, “I won’t ever keep anything from you. But tonight, I want to hold you. I don’t think it’s the right time for this story.”

A thought occurred to her and elicited a giggle.

“What is it?” He propped his elbow on the pillow and rested his head in his hand. The bewildered grin suited him.

The next she said in tandem with her snickering, “Maybe you can put it in your Verse to Rayne.”

“Hah! The only way I’ll write a Verse is if I dictate it to you while you’re at a typewriter dressed like a naughty librarian.”

“I still have my old glasses.” Not a beat missed.

Korac purred against her back and kissed her cheek. “Get some sleep.”

She perked up once more, “What about your memory—”

He swallowed her words with a hungry kiss over her shoulder. It left her breathless. Even his voice sounded hoarse with it, “Sleep.”

“Aw, c’mon, you two are killing me with this toothache!”

Sagan bubbled with laughter. “Sweet dreams, Remorse!”