Total pages in book: 175
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Or so I think.
Bethiah leans over to me as the elevator stops for what feels like the dozenth time. She’s twitching impatiently, watching with annoyance as more people get on. “I know her.”
I eye the ooli woman that just got on the elevator. I drop my voice, keeping it low. “Her?”
“No.” Bethiah pushes the card in front of my nose. “Her. The human. Rhonda.”
“All right…? Did you two part on difficult terms?”
Bethiah laughs, the sound humorless and cold. “You could say that. I asked her to be my mate and she told me no. That was the last time I saw her.”
I stare at her in surprise. She’s hinted that she’s had past relations with humans, but I didn’t realize that it was a human that destroyed her trust in relationships. Several things suddenly click into place. Her reluctance to get involved with Dora. Her overprotective nature with her. The way Bethiah gets skittish any time someone wants to get close. I touch my tail to hers in the crowded elevator, leaning in. “If you want to turn it down, I’m fine with that.”
She shakes her head, swallowing hard. “She’s a human alone. You know how hard that is. She’s risking a lot just by being on the station. Someone else might set her up or rob her. She’s probably scared. Even if it’s weird, we have to be the ones to help her.”
That’s noble of her.
That’s also very unlike Bethiah. Nobility isn’t her strong suit. “And do you still have feelings for this human?”
“Pfft. No.” She shoots me an ugly look. “Of course not. This is purely business.”
Something tells me that it’s not, but what other choice do we have? She’s not wrong in that a human alone asking for bounty hunter assistance is just as likely to get robbed as she is to get help. Taking on the bounty would be doing Bethiah’s old friend a favor.
Maybe this is something Bethiah needs to get closure. I just can’t help but feel like Dora would be unhappy about this. Kef, I’m not all that happy about it, either. But if she needs this, I can’t deny it to her.
When the busy elevator finally stops on the correct floor, Bethiah pushes to the front and shoves her way out. I follow behind her, watching her back as people grumble at her rudeness, my hand on my blaster as a silent message to anyone that might be annoyed enough to follow us. Luckily, we’re the only ones that get off on this floor and I trail after my mate.
Bethiah dips into a hotel and skims right past the front desk, heading towards another elevator. We go up another two floors, and then get out. Bethiah races ahead of me, her gaze locked on the doors themselves. When she pauses in front of one, her tail twitches with nervousness. Before I can say anything, she knocks on the door.
A female human answers, opening the door and staring in surprise at Bethiah. The human’s pretty, though that shouldn’t be surprising. She’s dressed richly in a flowing silvery gown made of expensive silk, her shoulders bare. Her neck is adorned with jewelry, a slim collar on her throat, and her wrists are loaded with jewels. Her hair is a vibrant reddish orange, her eyes bright green, and her skin is paler than any human I’ve ever seen. There’s a few small lines at the corners of her eyes, but other than that, she could be ageless.
It’s clear she’s some male’s pampered prize.
Her lips part and she bursts into elegant tears, flinging herself forward into Bethiah’s arms. “It’s you! Oh, Bethy. I can’t believe it’s you!”
Bethy?
Seventy-Seven
BETHIAH
I hate the name Bethy. I remember that just as Rhonda launches herself into my arms, weeping. It’s a weird thing to focus on when you’re meeting the once-love-of-your-life for the first time in ten years, but there it is. I hate the name Bethy, and it always annoyed me that Rhonda called me that. Funny how I’m just remembering it now.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she weeps against my chest, her arms encircling my waist. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a friendly face. I’ve been so alone.”
My sense of guilt rises, and I feel bad I was focused on anything as petty as a nickname. “Rhonda, what are you doing here on station alone? It’s not safe.”
“I know it’s not.” She weeps harder. “But I didn’t have any choice.” She tries to nestle closer to my breasts but her ornate hair decorations get in the way. They snag against the front of my tunic and catch on the fabric, and I have to pry one dangerous looking bit off of my front. As I do, she turns and notices Jamef for the first time—and shrieks, clinging to me in terror.