Royal: A Sci-Fi Romance (The Jekh Saga Book 5) Page 2

  Any excuse was better than the truth.

  He needed to go barf or chug a bottle of Maalox or something. He’d never felt so nervous about anything before, not even being shot at or hurling himself through space in a stolen ship he’d barely known how to steer.

  “That’s unfortunate.” The depot official shoved a finger into the dense knot of auburn hair fixed to the back of his head and, cringing, scratched his head. “Unfortunately, the last time we needed to restart the system, we had to wait an hour before we could access the updated databases.”

  Luke sucked in some air and tugged his hair at the back. “An hour? Seriously? Why don’t we just go ahead and moonwalk back into the Stone Age while we’re at it? Shit.”

  The guy had probably had years of training at behaving with the utmost professionalism in all circumstances, but the twitching at the corners of his lips gave away his amusement.

  Too bad it was at Luke’s expense.

  He cleared his throat and fixed his face. “The coding was sloppy. It was supposed to have been temporary, but…” The guy made a graceful shrug, so typical of Jekhan men. They had a way of moving their bodies that made them sometimes seem to be made of warm liquid rather than so much muscle and bone.

  “Things moved too fast,” Luke finished for him. “Yeah. I get it. Jekh shut off emigration from Earth for about a year while you tried to pick up the pieces from their long occupation by Terrans and now you’re trying to fix systems.”

  In fact, they’d thrown most Terrans off the planet. Luke was still there because he’d been labeled as a friend to Jekh. He, along with Owen, and the other two Outer Space Ciprianis—Precious and Marco—had located a group of their missing women and liberated them from sex slavers.

  The Jekhan folks said he could stay, and he was staying because he’d figured, “Hell, why not?” and his siblings had pretty much had the same logic. Not that Precious and Marco would leave, anyway. Precious’s girlfriend was Jekhan, and Marco was playing house with one of the women he’d helped to liberate along with an ex-soldier who liked to blow shit up on occasion. The arrangement suited Marco well, in Luke’s opinion. He’d been low on experience with the fairer sex, and that was exactly what Sera had needed from a man. No one could call Jasper inexperienced by any stretch of the imagination, but combined, the three of them got everything they needed from the trio.

  Lucky bastard.

  Luke heaved a sigh, annoyed that he was jealous of his own little brother. Or annoyed, really, that the straight Cipriani sibling had ended up in a trio.

  “Fates must be having a real good laugh,” he groused.

  The agent raised a brow. “Pardon?”

  “Nothin’,” Luke said, leaning toward him. “Listen, if you need a guy to look at that system, I know a guy.”

  “Mmm.” The agent winced and shook his head in a way that managed to be both mournful and patronizing at the same time. “I do not know if he will be able to assist.”

  Luke held his tongue. He probably would have been skeptical, too, if he didn’t have the network he had.

  “It’s a very delicate system,” the agent said as if to placate him.

  Luke didn’t need placating. He was awash with smart people. “The guy is Owen McGarry.”

  The guy leaned in close and tugged at his earlobe. “McGarry, did you say?”

  “Yeah. Know that name, huh?”

  Everyone knew the McGarrys or at least knew of them. On Jekh, people knew them for being instrumental in sparking the riots that got the Jekhans their planet back from the Terran colonists. Back on Earth, most people who’d heard the McGarry name knew it for vicious false rumors about their complicity in treason, though things were changing. The truth sometimes had a way of disinfecting things, though at a frustratingly slow rate.

  “Of course! A person would have had to be living under a rock for the past twenty years to not know about the McGarry family. You know him personally?” the agent asked. “Truly?”

  “Yeah. We grew up on the same block back in Boston and now I live about a five-minute walk from him on his sister’s farm. He’s busy, but he won’t say no to taking a look at your system.” Luke turned his hands over and shrugged. “Alternately, I could get you in contact with my sister, but she’s more of a jury-rigger when it comes to programming. She fixes what’s broken by creatively breaking other stuff. Consider her a last-resort.”

  He hoped they didn’t consider her at all. Precious had a knack for leaving a mark on a place in not-necessarily-good ways. The woman had a genius IQ but she was wild as a banshee.

  “Well, that’s certainly more options than we had before. Here.” The agent pulled a small, square disposable data chip card from his tunic pocket and placed it into Luke’s hand. “That has all the terminal numbers. Add it to your communicator. If you call the depot when you get a chance and ask for the marshal, he can coordinate with you about the computer issues.”

  “Cool.” Luke slid the card into his shirt pocket and fastened the button. “I’ll do that as soon as I get back to Little Gitano.”

  “Splendid! Oh, to not have to collectively hold our breaths every time a ship comes in…” The man gave a shallow bow and moved on to another group of waiting people.

  Duke leaned his ass against the railing and folded his arms over his chest. “So it appears you’ll be waiting for a while longer.”

  Luke rolled his eyes and slumped onto the hard metal bench behind him. “I thought you needed to pick up Herris. Go do it. Why are you keeping the guy waiting?”

  “The pickup time is fourteen hundred hours. It’s currently twelve hundred.”

  “Let me guess.” Luke stared straight ahead at the Childickia. As a kid, he wouldn’t even have been able to imagine things like the gorgeous silver behemoth existed. Massive and oval shaped, it lacked portholes on the sides so it sort of resembled a big metal ladybug. All of the windows were on the top of the ship so when people were in bed, they could see the stars. “You’re just going to sit there and antagonize me until I leave, huh?”

  “My, my, don’t you have an overinflated sense of importance?” Duke asked with a scoff. “I said I was curious, not that I was invested at all in what you’re doing here.”

  “So go away.” Luke looked at the man in time to see his lips curl back to reveal a blinding white grin.

  “Still curious.”

  Agitation surging, Luke rocked, and gritted his teeth. It was taking every iota of willpower he had not to look at the man again. He was just going to get him hot under the collar, and the next thing he knew, he’d be suggesting that Duke was leaning the wrong way on the railing and that Luke’s hands would be on the other man’s hips and his foot kicking Duke’s feet apart.

  “Bastard would probably like it,” Luke muttered, still rocking as he turned his focus to assessing the crowd. The onlookers would actually probably enjoy such a show of debauchery. If he’d learned anything at all during his year on Jekh, it was that Jekhan men had decidedly liberal sexual leanings. In some Jekhan subcultures, public domination of a male lover was a way to project status. Strangers would look on appreciatively as one man put another though his paces.

  However, Buinet wasn’t one of those places. Besides, Luke was trying to stop thinking about touching Duke in any way, shape, or form except to give him the well-aimed slug to his pretty jaw he so desperately needed.

  “There’s a food stand nearby that serves decent chowder,” Duke said.

  “Cool. Go have some and tell me how today’s batch is.”

  Duke drummed his fingertips against the railing and shifted his weight. “I take it you’re not hungry.”

  Luke shrugged. “I could eat.”

  “So we’ll go together.”

  “Can’t. I’m waiting for someone.”

  “You heard the man. You’ll be waiting for an hour at the very least.”

  “I’m a patient sort.” Just not patient enough to wait on Duke to get his head out of his royal ass. That cou
ld take eons.

  “You’re an incredibly infuriating sort, that’s what you are.”

  “Cry about it,” Luke said in an undertone.

  “Why are you so fucking intolerable?”

  “I don’t want to have this conversation with you again. We had it two weeks ago and also three weeks before that. I’m not messing around with you.”

  Duke scoffed and, in a flash of movement that would have frightened a normal man, lunged in and put his lips against Luke’s ear.

  Luke just sighed and rolled his eyes. Here we go again.

  “So, that’s it? It’s your way or nothing?”

  Christ.

  Luke hated that it had to be “nothing.” Fucking hated it.

  Duke smelled like sandalwood and bergamot, and was so near that Luke could tell just how close his shave had been and he wasn’t even touching.

  Luke drew in a bracing breath, swallowed hard, and tightened his hands over the edge of the bench.

  Not gonna touch.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That’s how it has to be.”

  “Why?”

  “You keep asking why, and I give you the same answer every time.” Luke leaned back in his seat to make sure Duke could see his eyes—to make sure he could see that he meant every word coming out of his mouth. “Been there. Done that,” he spat. “I’m not gonna be anyone’s goddamned secret.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Growling, Alex pushed away from Luke and stalked toward the depot exit, swearing vehemently under his breath as he went.

  He couldn’t believe how arrogant and unyielding Luke was. So inflexible and over something that wasn’t Alex’s fault at all.

  When he looked back, Luke had his feet up on the railing and was staring after him with one of those darkly hostile looks that should have had a chilling effect on him, but because Luke was Luke and nothing made sense in Alex’s life anymore, the exact opposite happened.

  Alex could feel his skin starting to burn with anticipation beneath his shirt. His neck prickled with heat and chest ached from suspense. Cock half hard, balls heavy and pulsing.

  And for what? Nothing.

  Alex had never been refused anything of significance by anyone. That was probably why he couldn’t give up his futile endeavor of making Lucas Cipriani concede to him—concede literally anything.

  Every one of their conversations turned into an argument, so it was both auspicious and unfortunate that they rarely saw each other in person. Alex had never before had such an insatiable urge to be in someone’s company. The first time they’d spent any significant time alone, Alex had ended up getting tugged off by the pissed-off Italian-American who couldn’t iron a shirt collar even if his life had depended on it.

  Tidiness wasn’t Luke’s taste, but apparently, there was no accounting for taste, seeing as how Alex wanted him. Luke couldn’t even respect his damned name.

  Duke. Ugh.

  He rolled his eyes. At times, he really hated being born to a royal family. Far too often, people expecting more of him than he was capable of giving.

  Stepping outside onto the cobblestone street of Buinet’s Zone Two, he put his hand up to shield his eyes from the midday sun. Food usually helped to bolster his patience, and he was certain he saw a food cart on the way in.

  He had to win. As a royal, winning was hardwired into him. He always had to win, even if he didn’t particularly want the prize. He couldn’t let anyone else have what was meant to belong to him. The problem was that Luke wasn’t supposed to belong to him, and Alex wasn’t completely sure why he wanted him. If word got out on Earth that Alex was associating with a man in something other than a business capacity, Alex’s parents would likely disown him by dinner time. He could put his dick in as many women in the galaxy as he wanted to, but to pursue a lover who wasn’t born with a pussy or a feminine-enough name?

  Scandalous.

  He didn’t see the cart he wanted, but there was a vendor selling some sort of skewered grilled meat near the practically empty flyer parking area. Smelled good and a long line meant others could vouch for it, so he started moving toward it, rolling up his sleeves as he went.

  The communicator/wearable computer on his left wrist chirped.

  He rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest.

  The damned thing was always chirping. Everyone wanted a piece of him…except for Luke, anyway. The constant demands were exhausting. He couldn’t even escape missions issued by his parents when he was in outer-fucking space.

  It chirped again, so he glanced down at the display and immediately furrowed his brow.

  “Oreva?” he murmured. “Why the hell is that guy calling me?” Inter-space communication was rapaciously expensive, especially to mobile devices.

  He moved up one spot in line, tucked a listening bud into his ear, and gave the COM’s band a double-tap to accept the incoming call from his friend and business partner. “What’s wrong, Oreva?”

  His old friend’s deep, bellowing laugh immediately pulled Alex from his sour mood. It’d always had that effect, even back at Oxford when Oreva’s loud, carrying voice got them both kicked out of a lecture Alex had to later bribe the instructor to get them both back into. “No hello?” he said, still laughing. “No ‘I miss you, mate’?”

  Alex snorted and moved up another space.

  A Jekhan man walked past with the cart’s fare in a small paper bowl. His meal was some sort of soft bread with the grilled meat on top, a variety of roasted vegetables, and a pale sauce.

  Whatever it was, Alex was going to eat it. His stomach was about to tie a knot into itself.

  “I’m surprised to hear from you, is all,” Alex said. “You don’t generally contact me on such open channels.”

  “Well, that’s because what I have to say this time isn’t particularly sensational.”

  “Oh? Color me intrigued.” Alex wasn’t sure if his business partner could make an ordinary statement about anything ever. Oreva’s flair for the dramatic was legendary.

  “I just landed on Jekh,” Oreva said.

  “Excuse me?” Alex stopped in his tracks.

  Oreva laughed again. “Still intrigued?”

  “I’d say that’s sensational enough. You’re truly here?”

  “Yes indeed, I’m in a ship in Buinet waiting to be cleared for debarkation.”

  “What a coincidence,” Alex said drolly. He narrowed his eyes at the menu board. It was printed in Jekhani, which only a handful of people from Earth could read. If he heard it spoken, he understood the words, but he hadn’t had any training in their writing system. He was fairly certain that if his father had known that Alex would end up being his emissary in space, the prince would have kidnapped all the best tutors money could bribe. “I happen to be in Buinet right now. I’m waiting to pick someone up and take him back to Little Gitano.”

  “Oh, splendid. Perhaps you can help me find a conveyance.”

  “Conveyance to where? You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

  “I got special permission as a child of Ham to seek business opportunities on the planet.”

  “A child of Ham?” Alex massaged the bridge of his nose and groaned.

  For fuck’s sake.

  For once, he needed Oreva to find the point and get to it. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here. You just said a whole lot of nothing.” Alex edged up in the line and looked around the man in front of him at what was on the grill. He was pretty sure that was chicken and beef. Neither meat was native to the planet, but there was more and more Terran livestock being imported. Jekhans, being half human, could digest the meats well, and most of the native animals didn’t have much flesh to give up. The Jekhans were nothing if not adaptable.

  “I’m here on behalf of Oreva Iyo and no one else.”

  “Which is to say not our company?”

  “Correct.”

  “Under what rule? There’s a limited number of regulations the immigrations board would allow
you to travel here under. Vacation visas aren’t currently being issued, you’re not a trader who’ll only be on the planet for a few days at a time, and obviously, you’re not here to rejoin a spouse. Your girlfriend wouldn’t like that.”

  Oreva snorted. “Indeed, not.”

  “And as far as I knew, only Terran women could seek business opportunities here.”

  “Ah, you should know me better than that, my friend. The rules change almost daily, and I get pings about the regulations sent directly to my computer. They’re usually just small tweaks in wording and such, but last month, I noticed that there’s been loosening of rules for people with origins in Earth countries that had no parts in fucking up Jekh.”

  “But—” Alex cut off his objection. He’d been about to say, “But you’re Norwegian,” but Oreva wasn’t. He’d simply resided in Norway for so long that Alex had forgotten the guy was technically Nigerian. Half Nigerian, anyway. Oreva had always been coy about where his father was from, but Alex could guess. And the last time he’d checked, China had also been on Jekh’s You Fucked Up list.

  Oreva had always had a way of skirting the rules for fun and profit. Often, Alex respected him for his cunning. The rest of the time, Alex just tried to hold his breath until the threat of scandal passed.

  Alex let out a breath and approached the front of the line. “Hold on for a moment,” he said to Oreva. “I’m ordering food.”

  The attendant, an old woman with a stooped posture and suspicion in her narrowed eyes, tapped her grilling tongs impatiently.

  He cringed. If he didn’t play his cards right, the woman was either going to refuse him service or spit in his food. Although it was legal for him to be on the planet, after what the Terrans had put the Jekhans through, they were rightfully hostile. Flattering her seemed the right way to go.

  “Everything looks wonderful,” he said to the woman. Most Jekhans he knew well thought he had decent Jekhani, though he knew there were certain nuances he couldn’t quite grasp. He did his best and hoped like hell not to inadvertently offend anyone with his word choices. “I can’t decide. Will you make a suggestion?”