Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

M yrria shooed her daughter from the doorway as she left, unhooking the heavy curtain so that it fell across the arched opening leading into the bedroom. "Don't stare, Zala. It's not polite."

Her daughter met her gaze with her own intensely curious, hazel eyes, glancing at the curtain before sighing. "He isn't as scary as I thought he'd be."

"He isn't scary at all." Myrria waved her hands to move her daughter forward and into the main room that held their dining table, compact kitchen, and a pair of chairs huddled close to the hearth. "Most injured creatures aren't."

"He will be all right, won't he?"

Myrria nodded, secure in her belief that the Dothvek would make a full recovery. He'd gotten through the worst part, and his wounds were healing nicely, although she'd done her best not to stare at the burnished-gold skin covering hard muscle when she'd changed his bandages. She released a breath, pushing aside thoughts of her fingers skimming across his bare flesh and lingering over the hard ridges.

"Mama?"

Myrria jerked her attention back to Zala. "Yes, he'll be all right." She held up a warning finger. "If some little girls will allow him to get some rest."

Zala's cheeks flushed as her mother swatted playfully at her and they returned to the kitchen, where a pot of soup was simmering on the stove and sending steam curling into the air. Myrria set herself to stirring the soup, peering into the oven for a beat to check on the baking bread.

There was nothing better for healing than some rich soup and crusty bread. Myrria might not have been a baker by trade, but there were some things she made well, and bread was one of them. If Kurril hadn't already been fully stocked with bakers with even more skill than her, she would have considered selling her baked goods when she'd found herself with no husband and no means of support. But her oven was too small and too uneven for her to make a go of baking, so she'd turned to the other thing she did exceedingly well—sewing.

Myrria cast a glance at her sewing basket on one of the chairs by the fire and the pile of fabric next to it. She should be grateful that she'd found clients willing to hire a woman with a child who couldn't work in a shop all day or even in the backroom of some tailor. Even if the dresses she created were for the brightly painted ladies in the pleasure houses and probably spent as much time being taken off as they did being worn.

Myrria snorted a laugh at this, thinking of how scandalized her own family would have been. Not that they had a say in her life anymore. They'd been happy to see her married young, even if it had meant her charming husband had taken her away from her home world so they could make their fortune in Kurril.

Myrria snorted again, but this time there was no laughter in it. The only fortune that had blessed her since her arrival in the Den of Thieves was the birth of Zala, but that had also been the catalyst that had spurred her husband to join a ship going off-world.

"I'll come back a rich man, Myr," he'd assured her, as he'd strutted around their small home packing his few clothes. "You'll see. I'll bring back enough to get us a nice house in a good area." Then he'd slapped her ass and laughed. "You won't have to take care of any cooking or cleaning. You'll just have to take care of making me happy, and we both know you like doing that."

He'd leered at her then, his gaze darting to the bedroom, and Myrria feared that he'd want another go at her. With a baby still in the crib, she did not want another again so soon, especially since he was leaving. "Won't you miss the ship?"

He'd looked at the clock on the wall and his eyes had flared wide. "Curse the gods, you're right." He'd jammed the last garment into his leather satchel and then grabbed her by the waist and jerked her flush to him. "I guess you'll have to wait for it a little longer."

Myrria had not cared that his passionless rutting had been delayed, but she had cared that he had never retuned at all. The few coins he'd left had quickly dwindled, as had her food stores and supplies. No word came back about the crew he'd joined, although she'd heard her neighbors whispering that it hadn't been a merchant ship, it had been a mercenary vessel.

She wished this had surprised her, but it hadn't. Once the first blush of his flattery and charm had tarnished, she'd quickly become aware that he was skilled at spinning words to his will but not as good at honest work. He preferred a slick deal to simple labor, and he bounced from job to job, leaving before his supervisors could figure out that he was all talk and scant results.

So Myrria did not miss him as much as she missed the coins he brought home. She might not have trusted him to have come by them honestly, but he did provide them. Until he had gone and not returned, leaving her to make her way in the lawless city for herself and Zala.

She thought of what he would have said to her taking in a wounded alien, and the image of his spluttering outrage made her smile. What would he have done if he'd known that she had given up her bed for the Dothvek? The massive, half-naked, gold-skinned creature was sleeping in the bed she'd shared with her long-gone husband, which gave her a wicked burst of pleasure.

What did the man expect her to do? It wasn't like she'd ever taken a man to her bed since him, anyway, even though she was all but certain he would not be returning. Not after six years. Either the ship had been destroyed, or he had decided that he liked life on a mercenary ship more than he liked being a husband and father.

Either way, he'd relinquished his right to say what went on in Myrria's house. He didn't pay the landlord anymore, he didn't buy the food, he didn't keep them clothed. As far as she was concerned, it was no longer his house, and she no longer owed him any loyalty.

She peered over her shoulder at the curtain shielding the alien from her gaze. Not that she had any intention of doing anything but healing the alien in her bed. He looked younger than her, and she was sure the last thing he was interested in was a woman past the flower of youth who had a child.

No, he would heal and then leave the planet. She swallowed down a measure of disappointment, even though his leaving would be one less mouth to feed. Bringing the Dothvek into her home had been the most exciting thing that had happened to her in ages, and it had made Zala light up like she'd never seen before. All of that outweighed the facts that she'd told Rixx. His ship was gone, and the Zevrians were hunting for Dothveks. He would not be able to hide forever.

She gave the pot of soup another stir, wondering if she'd taken too much of a risk.