Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

The answer was yes. Yes, it hurt.

It hurt a lot.

"Is it always this bad?" Margot had asked through clenched teeth, her jaw tight as she rode out the pain as best she could.

The old woman let out a sympathetic sigh, but her hands never stopped moving. "A few of the really powerful pigments can sometimes do that, and this one is particularly strong. That means it overpowers your own flesh as it takes hold. That's just how it is with this sort of symbiotic relationship between person and pigment. But rest assured, once it's firmly in place the results can often be quite impressive. Now, hold still and breathe. I'm trying to finish as fast as I can, but I want to ensure you have the best quality runes I can provide. If I'm going to use all of Gromm's most prized pigment, I want to make it count."

Margot did her best to relax, and she did appreciate the risk the woman was taking helping her like this. But still, the process was anything but pleasant.

Interestingly, Floxxia had informed her that when she performed her job as a Skrizzit back home there were actually many kinds of numbing agents that were often used on more sensitive races, keeping the entire process almost relaxing. But as a captured fugitive of a deposed government, she had not been provided with any such luxuries. On top of that, it seemed Gromm was a selfish penny-pincher, entirely motivated by money. Unless an expense was for himself personally, he would pretty much never relinquish his grip on his wallet.

Of course, in this part of the galaxy Margot very much doubted anyone actually carried a wallet in their pockets. They probably had some other sort of futuristic way of handling currency. What it was, however, she had not a clue. And given how uncomfortable she was, she really didn't care.

After many excruciating hours, Floxxia's hands finally stopped their torturous work. She wiped her living canvas down from head to toe with the only healing salve she'd been given, one not made for this sort of thing, but rather battle wounds. Floxxia said it might sting for a bit at first as it was meant to stanch the bleeding of injured soldiers, but on the bright side, the compound would actually kick-start the healing process.

Margot didn't care as long as it took the edge off sooner than later.

One of Gromm's men came to collect Floxxia a short while later. Margot rose to come with.

"No, you're to stay here."

"But I thought?—"

"Gromm says these are gonna be your quarters for now," was all the man said, closing the door behind him as he left.

"What the hell?" she wondered, confused but relieved she was at least being provided something more comfortable than a tent. "Okay, then. I guess I'll just stay here? Jeez, guys, way to make a gal feel welcome."

But when she lay back on her bunk, the fresh tattoos itching from tip to toe, she was actually kind of grateful for some time alone. Time to adjust to not only the physical sensations now overwhelming her body but also to clear her head a bit. This was just one more ridiculous layer on top of an already very full plate of sensory and mental overload. With all she'd been through in just a few days, it was a marvel she'd retained her sanity.

"Yeah, but only just," she chuckled to herself.

She was glad her sense of humor had remained intact. At least the gallows part, anyway.

It was several hours later when she was roused by a knock at her door. She'd slipped into a surprisingly pleasant nap that had snuck up on her while she tried to mentally tamp down the burning itch covering so much of her body. Floxxia had been thorough, and there wasn't any major muscle group that hadn't received at least a little rune of some sort, all of them connected with flowing lines that, she had to admit, were actually quite beautiful.

She'd never wanted to get any tattoos, but, given the circumstance, she was actually rather pleased with the artwork she'd be wearing the rest of her life.

Another knock.

"Coming!" she called out, rising to her feet, pleased to find that, as Floxxia had promised, the sting of the salve had dissipated in the short while that she'd snoozed.

She opened the door, figuring out the mechanical handle on only her second try, a little surprised there wasn't a more futuristic mechanism but glad for it. At least this she knew how to do in this strange alien world.

A very tall and handsome man was standing casually in the corridor, a tray of food in his hands. Rylinn flashed a dazzling movie star smile.

"I heard your session with the Skrizzit was complete. I figured you would be hungry afterward, but I didn't want to interrupt you while you were in the initial recovery period. It's been a long time since I received my runes, but I still recall how exhausted I was after."

"Yeah, I kind of passed out. I had no idea getting inked could be so intense."

"It can be a bit much, yes," he said, his eyes glancing up and down, taking in the few small, exposed areas where he could see her new designs. "The Skrizzit did good work."

"I don't know what to gauge it against, but it seems that way."

"Trust me, this is quality runework," he said, his gaze hot and lingering. "So, can I come in?"

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. How rude of me. Of course, come in."

He entered, brushing her softly as he passed. Margot's skin was so sensitive that even the faintest touch sent odd jolts through her body. Her nipples went rock-hard in a flash, and she felt an almost electric buzz surging lower entirely of its own accord.

Oh, fuck. What the hell was that?

Rylinn set the tray on the small table and took a seat, gesturing for her to join him. It was a very cozy setting, the room not really designed for socializing. But it did have two chairs, so at least it had that going for it.

"I thought you would like to sample something other than fruits and vegetables," he said, his voice deep and buttery to her ears, the translation runes doing their job and then some.

"What is all that?"

"I had the cooks prepare a few things for you to try. An assortment of flavors to see what type of foods your alien tastebuds might prefer."

"Alien," she said with a chuckle. "Yeah, I guess on this planet, I really am the alien."

"To be fair, there are dozens of races living here. It's a large world, and none claim it as their own, though some have established rather impressive kingdoms and realms of varying governance systems. But the planet itself is under Dotharian rule, a rest and waystation for all who are in need. And given the resources here, quite a few have taken that offer and run with it."

Margot's recent revelations from her conversation with the Skrizzit resurfaced in a flash. "About that. I understand there are a bunch of people on the run here too. Political refugees."

An understanding look settled onto the man's chiseled face. "Ah, you're talking about the Minnorian coup, I take it?"

"The what?"

"The Skrizzit. She's one of them."

"And she's a good person."

"I don't doubt it. But you have to understand, laws are laws, and a violent coup will have consequences, even for those peripherally involved."

"So you know she's not a bad person."

"I don't really know her at all. But I am aware of how these sorts of things often play out. And while Gromm is a very, very enthusiastic hunter of any bounty that will put credits in his accounts, he really does it because he enjoys the game. The sport, if you will. For men like him it is an addiction. Once they get that first taste, they simply cannot stop."

"And you? What makes you different?"

Rylinn leaned back, stroking his chin in thought. "It's… complicated ."

"Indulge me."

"I will. But only if you indulge me as well. Please, do try your food. The cooks went to some effort at my request. I'd hate to see it go to waste."

Regardless of the situation, Margot was seriously hungry. Frankly, even if he hadn't urged her to eat, she would have tucked in with gusto in just a few moments anyway.

"Okay," she said, picking up an alien utensil that shifted shape depending on what food she was moving it toward. The Swiss Army utensil, she realized with interest. Beats the hell out of a spork. She scooped up a bite of an orange pudding-looking dish and raised it to her lips. "Well? Start talking."

The food was almost indescribable. Savory, salty, with a hint of sweetness, all the flavors blending in a way that set all of her tastebuds dancing with joy. Whether it was actually amazing, or just that she was really hungry, Margot somehow managed to keep her blissful reaction to herself, however, simply staring at the man, waiting for him to talk.

"Look," he began. "I've done bad things in my time, yes. No one who's lived the life I have and seen and experienced the things… let's just say, I'm no saint. But I'm out of that world. I take absolutely no pleasure in violence, and I remain apolitical in my work. I simply accept a job, do what I've been hired to do, collect my fee, and, if it is substantial enough, go about my life for as long as possible without having to get back in the thick of things."

"So you're what? A mercenary?" she asked between delicious bites.

"Not hardly. Not like these others out there. My specialty is tracking. Tracking in places traditional scans don't properly function. This part of the planet, for instance, is comprised of a type of rock that wreaks merry havoc on all sorts of scanning tech. And the trees and pretty much every plant in the area has absorbed some of that from the very ground they spring from. It makes for a very, very good place to hide. And it makes my job an extremely difficult one."

"But you hunt down innocent people."

He laughed at that. "Oh, you think they're innocent? First off, I was simply tracking Minnorian escapees. I don't know which ones, only that they originated from there and are part of the deposed government. Some might be better than others, some worse. But all are part of that group. I merely locate where they went to ground. And I'd have you know, two of the men Gromm and his lot captured have a lot of blood on their hands. Murderers, those two, guilty of the cold-blooded slaying of the regent's mate and daughter when the man voiced opposition to the ruler's edicts."

Margot felt her appetite abruptly wane. "I–I'm sorry. I didn't realize?—"

"How could you? You're utterly new to all of this. And the machinations of interstellar politics are complex and confusing even for people who grew up here. I don't blame you for your concerns, Margot. And I realize what I do may not seem noble or good. But I can assure you, it is a job, and one that has brought many bad men to justice. Frankly, that's what keeps me coming back. Hoping to, at least sometimes, be able to right a terrible wrong."

She looked deep into his beautiful eyes, fascinated by the strange dichotomy of his life. One of action and violence at times, but also with a philosopher's mind, realizing there was no black and white to what he did and making his peace with it as best he could.

"I don't know how you do it," she said softly.

Rylinn reached out and took her hand in his much larger one. "It takes its toll at times. But then, sometimes there are moments that make it all worthwhile." He grinned warmly, his look making her belly all sorts of hot and bothered. "I'm sorry you got caught up in all of this. But, if I'm honest, I'm also glad."

"Glad?"

The heat of his smile increased, a sexy gleam in his eye. "Yes. Your situation is difficult, I know, but we would not have met otherwise." Rylinn rose to his feet. "Now, I have work I must attend to, so I'll leave you to your meal. But I do hope we can spend some time, if you're amenable to the idea."

She felt a little ball of comforting warmth building in her belly. He was a bad boy, but also not. And that sort of thing had always been a draw.

"I'd like that," she said. "I'd like that a lot."