Creed of Pleasure; the Space Miner's Concubine (The LodeStar Series) (26 page)

“Yes, thanks.” Taara sat carefully in her usual chair. “Where’s Creed?”

One of the cleaning droids hummed by in the hallway, dusting arms vaccing. The house was surprisingly neat, the detritus from the attack cleaned up, at least in here. Creed’s bedroom probably didn’t look this good.

Taara looked at the big island where she’d killed two men and shuddered. She was glad that from where she sat, she couldn’t see the floor where the pirates had died.
 

A thunderous banging ensued from the other end of the house. Coy handed Taara a mug of coffee and sat down. “Doing repairs on the roof. Been at it a while.”

She looked at Taara. “So, I’m ready to leave whenever you are. Can see why you’d like to head back for some city time after what you went through. Do some shopping ... “
 

Her voice trailed off, and she pressed her lips together, her gaze taking in Taara’s shock. “Skrog shit,” she muttered.
 

Taara managed to set the creamer down without spilling much. She stared at the pilot, her brain buzzing again, as if she’d had another shot of gesics.
 

“You’re here to get me?” she whispered.

Coy nodded, her eyes full of dawning pity. “That’s what he said. Linked me last night, late, asked me to get out here.” She took another drink of coffee. “Not just a shopping trip, eh?”

Taara shook her head numbly. “No.”

He hadn’t even had the guts to tell her himself. He’d let Coy tell her. That burned.
 

She sat for a moment, her thoughts racing, but in a downward spiral. Creed needed time, all right. But he did not want her around while he took it. And she couldn’t force him to feel what she felt. Maybe he never would. Maybe that was why he was so swift to push her away—because for him it was only physical. And the shock of finding out she’d been a ‘victim’ had ruined that, because that’s all there was.

She pushed back her chair, wincing as the movement pulled at her wound. She pushed to her feet.
 

“How soon can you be ready to go?” she asked.

“Soon,” Coy said slowly. “Listen, you sure?”

Taara lifted her chin, and stood tall. “Oh, I’m sure. He doesn’t want me to stay, and I … I have things to do in the city.”
 

Like getting a life. A life that she chose, instead of letting it choose her.

In her room, her pride failed her. She sank on the end of her bed—carefully, because of her injured leg— and linked Daanel.
 

He appeared, standing in his new boutique, surrounded by his wares, but his hair a mess, his clothing wrinkled. “Taary. How are you? Thank goddess you’re all right. Stark let us know what happened, and that you survived, but goddess, I’m glad to see you.”

Then his smiled disappeared. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, her voice wavering. “I get to come home.”

He stared at her, a dark scowl erasing his relief. “He’s sending you away, isn’t he? How does that work? Even after a near-death experience, he doesn’t see that he should be on his knees, begging you to stay?”

At any other time, Taara would have laughed at his dramatic turn of phrase, but now she could not summon even a smile.

“It’s not like that,” she said. “He’s hurting too. This whole thing—it was so wrong for him. I can’t say anymore, D. I just … I need to come, um, home.”
 

Even if this place, and the man who owned it felt more like home at the moment.

“What am I going to do?” she muttered.
 

“I’ll tell you.” Daanel clapped his hands briskly. “You’re going to pack, that’s what you’re going to do. And you’re going to come here to me, in F City. And then, we’re going to ... well, I don’t know what the quark we’re going to do. Get on with our new lives. Come on now, on your feet, girlie.”

She hadn’t meant that at all. She’d meant, how was she going to make Creed see, how was she going to get him back.
 

But that was not going to happen, she knew with a despair that went soul deep. She hadn’t started this, but she’d participated in betraying his trust. In the worst way possible for him.
 

Now he wanted her out of his life. And she had just enough pride left not to beg him to let her stay. Maybe he’d get over it, but it was going to take time and there wasn’t a thing she could do to rush that. And she didn’t want to try, didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“Taary,” Daanel repeated, his voice soft, gentle. “Come on. Get up, sweetie. I’m here with you.”

She left LodeStone with only two pieces of luggage. Daanel guided her through the essentials, but she shook her head when he urged her to take more.
 

“I don’t ever want to see most of this again,” she said. “
Ever
.”

“Okay, sweetie,” he said. “Time to come here, then. Let’s go out and meet your flight.”

Coy came in to help with her luggage. “Um, you only have two cases? Had a lot more stuff coming in.”

“I’m leaving it.” Taara looked around the room, then marched over and grabbed a set of black lingerie from an open drawer, along with a lii silk robe. “Here. This is for you, and—and that special woman.”

Coy’s chin drew back, her brows flew up. Then she smiled wryly. “Thanks. I’ll take it. Met someone. But you don’t wanna hear about that.”

Taara nodded fiercely. “Oh yes I do.” Anything to drown out the pain. “Come on. Let’s go. You can tell me all about her on the way back.”

Her head high, she grabbed her cases and marched from the room. Well, actually she limped, but it was a militant limp.

She made only one stop, at the holoreader on the kitchen counter. She left a short, succinct message, swiped away the tears that fell as she wrote it, and continued on, out of his home.
‘I’ll be in Frontiera City if you ever want to talk. Taara Ravel’

She did not look back, not until she was aboard the cruiser. Then she turned her head and saw him, standing in the sunlight on his roof, amid building materials and his men, all working to repair the damage done by the pirate attack.
 

He stood, squinting against the sun, watching as the cruiser lifted off and rose in the air, but his face was remote, as if he were watching a stranger depart. And he did not wave goodbye.

Closing her eyes tight, Taara faced front, and sat until the cruiser lifted under her and bore her up into the sky.
 

Away from Creed Forth, and unfortunately also away from her heart.

Chapter Seventeen

Daanel and Taara sat at the table on the patio of their new condo. It was a lovely, warm afternoon, late summer in Frontiera City. The patio was plain, with only a vase of holozinnias on the side table and a rustic pale orange cloth on the table, the hem fluttering in the breeze. Tall drinks sat before both of them, and since it was Daanel they were green, in perfect complement to the zinnia leaves and his own fitted shirt.
 

His expression did not match the cheery décor. Taara looked into his eyes with difficulty. The same green as her own, a family trait, they held a look of pain. She bit her trembling lips together, guilt nearly swallowing her whole. She had put that look there, because he was hurting for her.

She was struggling to explain her feelings for Creed.
 

“Creed is …” She shook her head. “When I first saw his holovid, I thought, ‘That man is sex on a reactor stick’. And I was right. But he’s so much more than that. He’s also a good man. Being with him was no hardship. I hope you’ll remember that, D.”

Daanel nodded. “He is pretty hot,” he agreed. He opened his mouth and then closed it.
 

“What?”

“You fell for him, didn’t you?” he asked gently.

She nodded, and then closed her eyes as they filled with tears again. “So hard. So hard I don’t know if I’ll ever … ever get up again. When he found out—” she shuddered. “The way he looked at me, as if I’d betrayed him. That was the most awful part of all of this. I hurt him, D. Me and Logan Stark.”

Daanel covered her hand with his, and squeezed. His hand was warm, in contrast to hers. She was cold, in spite of the heat of the day. The chill emanated from deep inside her, where her heart had been … until she left it on a mountainside a long flight away.

“I forgive you,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Now, you have to forgive yourself. Then we’ll talk about how we’re going to kill Logan Stark
and
his brother. For hurting you this way. Because it may not have been Creed’s idea, but he certainly leapt into your arms fast enough. And he’s hardly an innocent child.”

“But he is—an innocent man,” she insisted. “Or he was, until I seduced him”

Daanel rolled his eyes. “Honey, there’s a big, big difference between innocence and celibacy. If the man was with the Zhen-Lou, then he may not have participated, but he’s seen some things. Those monks take on the worst baddies and not from afar. They go in and
clean house
.” He nodded wisely.

“Yes.” But Creed had also had to live through some of the nightmare.

“Besides, any man who can’t tell my sweet cousin from a courtesan—hsssss!”
 

His overt disgust surprised a snicker from her, but it didn’t last long.

“Anyway,” she said, miserably, tracing an embroidered stem on the cloth. “It was probably all for nothing anyway. Stark will no doubt want his credit back.”

“Wait,” Daanel cried, sitting up straight. “Oh, my goddess. It’s my turn to apologize, sweetie.”

“What?”
 

“Stark linked me,” Daanel said, grimacing at the memory. “He said to tell you that he will honor his end of the bargain. That he’s sorry things didn’t work out, but he’s sure you did your best and he doesn’t want you to worry about anything.”

Taara gaped. “He’s sorry?” she managed. Then she started to laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. That’s—that’s just quarking fabulous.”

As Daanel watched, chin back and eyes wide, she flew out of her chair and flung her arms wide in a parody of joy. “My great plan worked. Here we are, free of Earth II, on a new planet and set for life. Everything’s wonderful, and I’ll never worry again. But if I do, I’ll just wh-whore myself again and it will all work out.”

Then she clapped her hands over her mouth and stared at Daanel, horrified.”I’m sorry,” she mumbled through her fingers. “I’m sorry, D. I’m—”

“Stop saying that,” he called back. He rose as well, and shook his finger at her, his narrow, clever face fierce. “I never, ever want to hear you apologize to me or anyone else again for this, do you understand me, missy? And that includes Creed Forth.”

She nodded.
 

He nodded back, grandly. “Good. Now, let’s have a drink and … talk about the boutique.”

“Good idea,” she agreed. She dropped into her chair and picked up her drink, taking a sip. It was cool, frothy and tart. “This is delicious.” She took another drink, a bigger one.

“Should be,” he said. “Made with the finest ingredients Logan Stark’s credit can buy.”

Taara smiled at him, even though her eyes were full of tears. “I love you,”

He smiled back at her. “Love you too, Taary. And you’re gonna be all right. Remember, we’re partners now.”

“Can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be partners with.”

“And you’re going to start designing again,” he said. “Oh, yes, I know all about your hobby. I also know you’re better at it than you think. I found some of your ideas, when sharing your place in New Seattle. Some of them were brilliant. Others sucked, but that’s all right.”

“You’re so good for me,” she said, tears sliding down her face. “And I already made a start on a new design. Can’t wait to show you.”

“Good. We’ll make this work, Taary. This is a new world, and we are just what this city and this planet need.”

Taara nodded. He had a point there. Frontiera was ripe with opportunity.
 

Daanel chattered on, talking about some big social event coming up in the fall that they could use to showcase their wares. But as her gaze drifted back out over the swathe of green lawn adjoining the condo complex, Taara’s smile slid away.
 

She would make a life here. She’d work hard. And maybe eventually the raw pain of being thrust away by the man she’d fallen for would dull. But for now, all she could do was just get through this day. And the long night to come.

The next morning after a short, fitful night’s sleep, Taara set off with Daanel for the boutique. They did this on foot, as the new shopping center was on the waterfront down the hillside from the condo, and because Daanel had not yet purchased a hovie. The streets were already busy with other beings on the walks, and hovies and transports gliding along the traffic lanes.

Taara heard languages and dialects from all over the galaxy. A trio of Barillians passed, fluting softly to each other through the tall lavender tubes atop their heads. A huge Mauritanian strode past, nodding curtly as he jostled Daanel, his purple-blue face grim. Taara shuddered—it would take some time before she felt comfortable around that race. And she hoped she never, ever had to see another Gorglon as long as she lived. Indigons, Serpentians, humans and many other races also filled the walks, and worked to open shops and cafes along the sides.