Chapter 6

chapter

six

KAEL

The next afternoon, I step inside Big Mo's Diner and wander over to the front counter.

"She's not here today, Sugar," Lorraine says as I slide onto a stool. She holds a pot of dark liquid and pours me a cup.

While I slept, I had the Adjunct tap into the local network and scour it for relevant cultural information. It compiled everything into an HSC session for me. Cressida's files were helpful, but there were many things about everyday life it simply didn't occur to her to include.

Luckily, now I recognize the dark liquid as coffee, a mild stimulant that's wildly consumed. Given the general love of coffee and the local inhabitants' exuberance when describing it, I'm excited to try it.

Needless to say, I would rather spend the time with Joey, but if yesterday is any indication, more recon is required before I see her again.

As frustrating as it is that I don't have more answers, I will have to be patient. Where are the other princesses? What happened to Joey's guardian?

More pressing, how do I go about wooing her if she has no knowledge of her true identity?

My gut tells me Lorraine will be an ally, but only if I play my pieces right.

She watches me with open speculation as I take my first sip of coffee.

It's bitter and sharp, but I like it. I raise my mug in a salute. "Thank you."

She smirks. "It takes a brave man to drink coffee from a diner black."

I look at the mug. "Is this not how it should be consumed?"

"What? You don't have coffee where you're from?"

"Alas, no."

"Alas, no," she repeats, chuckling as she pulls a cloth from her waistband and wipes the counter in front of her. "You sure do have an odd way of talking. Where did you say you were from?"

"Perse. It's … far from here."

"And you said you're a prince, didn't you?"

"I am." I nod, hoping that the language module the Adjunct created for me translated terms of ranking accurately. "I am Prince Kael De Survacia, highest ranking member of the Clan Survacia."

"Hmm." The sound she makes seems both amused and skeptical.

The whole conversation is a bit frustrating. On Perse, we have one language. Many dialects, yes. But only one core language.

Normally when I do recon I have the advantage of knowing the language, the dialects, the minutiae of the local culture. I've never felt quite so disadvantaged as this before.

Still, even with the language barrier, I can tell from the gleam in her eyes that Lorraine wants me to succeed. She is one hundred percent on Joey's side. She's the kind of friend who will advocate tirelessly for my Joey. She wants me to succeed, because she wants me to be right for her friend.

I can appreciate that kind of loyalty, especially now that the Adjunct has found me more information about this foster care system Joey grew up in. Without a Pers?n guardian to look out for her, at least the Tides provided her with a human equivalent.

Lorraine props her hip against the counter and asks, "So is that Kale like the vegetable?"

It takes me a second to connect her words to the mental image my brain pulls up of a dark leafy green. I laugh. "No. Not like the vegetable."

"How about a piece of pie to go with your coffee?" The older waitress slides over a plate with a triangular piece of food with a red gelatinous something in the middle of it.

I quirk my eyebrow at her and eye the food with skepticism. The vizzes I'd watched the previous evening had made much of a popular earth food called a hamburger and soda. So, this morning, I procured one from the restaurant recommended by the vizzes. The hamburger was weirdly floppy and tasteless. The soda, far too sweet and aggressively fizzy. How had my Joey Kincaid survived so long on such unpleasant food?

Lorraine must sense my hesitancy, because she nudges it closer to me. "Cherry. It's the best pie we serve."

"Where is she today?" I ask before stabbing at this pie with my fork.

"School. She's off every Wednesday for her classes, the rest she takes in the evenings and on her computer." Lorraine wipes at the counter top again, the damp rag smelling faintly of the bulber flower, a yellowish-green bloom that can be crushed and used as a disinfectant.

At least this planet, no matter how primitive, is clean. Mostly.

"Has she not aged out of schooling?"

Lorraine clucks her tongue. "Well, sure she's finished high school, but Joey's ambitious. She's taking college classes, works this job, and one other. The girl's got hustle."

Though I'm not familiar with the term hustle–and my time in the HSC only pulls up an image of a dance–I get the gist of the term. Joey is hard working.

I expected no less.

Her beauty, her voluptuous curves, those took me by surprise. As did the instantaneous urge to claim her. To make her mine. Not just to mate with her. And not just for the purpose of bonding. But to own her, body and soul. To be owned by her in exchange.

All of that, I did not expect.

The restaurant is mostly empty, so Lorraine lingers near me, watching, waiting for me to try the food. Reluctantly, I raise the fork to my mouth, not sure what to expect.

Compared to the limp, unpleasantness of the hamburger, the pie is unexpectedly pleasing. The golden brown top is flaky and seems to melt in my mouth. The gelatinous center is both sweet and tart, bursting with flavor.

I nod. "Yes. This is more like it." I stab another bite. "Now, this is what food should taste like."

Lorraine smiles, and for a second, something about her expression reminds me of Jopin. In the early days, she'd assisted Lantimere with our training. None of us remembered much about our own mothers. Jopin had tried so hard not to baby us. She didn't want us to be weak. But I'd always known how and when a smile and a wink would get me an extra dollop of voupado sauce or the thickest slice of hoirino.

I flash Lorraine that smile now. "You are clearly a woman of outstanding taste."

She snorts, looking more amused than annoyed. Perfect.

"Mister, I'm not the one you need to be charming."

"Ah, this is true." I shake my head, looking purposely disheartened. Which, isn't hard. "She was supposed to know of me, to know I was coming for her." Frustration burns through my belly again. Her life should have been different than this. I shove another bite of pie in my mouth. "It is not how it is supposed to be between be'lahshuk ."

"There you go again with your fancy words. What does that one mean?"

" Be'lahshuk ?"

"Yeah. Bella shook. What's that mean wherever you're from?"

I sigh, because there are many things I don't know about earth, but as far as I can tell, they have nothing that compares. Still, I gather all my new found knowledge of English and try to describe it. " Be'lahshuk are equals. Matched. They complete one another. They make one another whole."

Lorraine makes a whistling sound and fans herself with her hand. "Wowza. That's some serious Jerry McGuire shit, right there."

"I do not understand that phrase. Or what mates have to do with excrement."

She gives a belly laugh.

I grit my teeth. So glad my ignorance amuses her.

She reads my expression correctly, reaching across the counter between us to nudge my shoulder. "Oh, now don't get your panties in a wad. I'm just joshing you."

I stab off another bite of pie.

"Sugar." She plants her palms on the counter. "Let me give you some advice."

"Advice would be welcomed."

"To win over a girl like Joey, you've got to slow it down. Don't come in with your guns blazing. Romance her a little. Woo her."

"Woo her," I repeat, scouring my brain for the meaning of that phrase. Trying to gain the favor or affection of someone. To court.

I frown.

Yes, wooing I can do. Gaining favor or affection from someone is in many ways what I'm best at.

I just didn't anticipate having to do that with my Joey Kincaid.

After all, she is my mate. I shouldn't have to convince her. She should feel our connection deep in her soul. As I do.

I take another sip of my coffee and as it burns down my throat, I roll an idea around in my mind.

Am I irritated that I need to woo her?

Or that she doesn't need to woo me?

From the moment I walked into the diner and saw her from across the room, I was hers.

Hell, if I'm being honest with myself, it started before that. Before I even saw her image on the viz screen back on Perse. It started nearly two decades ago the moment I first touched her. Through all these years, even when I assumed I would never find her again, I knew she was mine and that I was hers. I never forgot about her.

Not for a damned minute.

So how did she forget me?

The fact that she did stings worse than any cut from any blade.

I hadn't expected to feel this instant connection to her. This sweep of certainty. But the minute I'd seen her, I'd known.

I would have been able to pick my Joey Kincaid out of a crowd of women. Her hair was that of fire. So vibrantly red it begged to be touched.

But no matter what I felt, apparently, she did not feel the same physical pull.

I glance back up at Lorraine, who is studying me. If she had marks, I would think she was reading my mind.

Somehow that makes my next admission easier. "I never imagined I would have to work to woo her."

"Don't beat yourself up. A guy who looks like you, I bet you normally have women throwing themselves at your feet."

I just shrug. While I am aware that many women find me attractive, it's always been irrelevant. Once my seed marks bloomed and I bonded with Joey, there was never going to be another woman for me.

It never mattered if anyone found me attractive or if I found them attractive. Which I did not.

She is my mate. Sex with anyone else would have been little more than an exercise in frustration. The bond between Joey and I, as slim as it is, means I am unable to bear children with anyone else. Unable to copulate at all.

"Looks are irrelevant," I tell Lorraine, even though I know things are not the same on earth. "Joey is the only one I want."

Lorraine gives me a sly look. "Perhaps. But somebody like Joey? She don't trust people easily. Life has never given her a good reason to." The older woman pierces me with a sharp look. "You better be sure you want her."

"I will never want another."

She gives another snort. "Yeah, those are pretty words for sure. Just make sure you mean them." She points a brightly tipped finger at me. "And that you aren't damn crazy. You hurt that girl and I won't hesitate to pull some Fried Green Tomatoes shit on your ass. I don't care how nice it looks."

I give Lorraine my most winning smile. If she thinks I'm attractive, I'm not above using that to my advantage.

"I am not crazy," I tell her, giving her my most sincere smile. "Please tell me how I can woo my Joey Kincaid."

"First of all, stop calling her that," Lorraine says, propping a bony hand on her thin hip.

"Mine? But she is mine."

"I'm all over that possessive stuff, but Joey not so much. But I meant using her full name. That's just weird. Call her Joey."

I nod. "I can do that."

She pulls a book out of the pocket of apron. "Read this. Should help you figure out what women want." Then she winks at me. "Though I'd think you'd be able to figure that out." Then she walks away, but I swear I hear her mumble, "Taking off your shirt would be a good first step."

I look down at the tunic I'm wearing then to the book I'm now holding. Love Her Forever is scrawled across the cover with a picture of a man and a woman's clasped hands. It looks to be some sort of instructional manual for how to romance a human woman.

Though my Joey isn't human, she has been raised in their world, and believes herself to be one. She will likely respond to whatever I can find in this book.

I take another bite of the tart and sweet pie and open to page one.

Two hours and three pieces of pie later, I have read enough of the book Lorraine loaned me to know three things: First, cherry pie is indeed the best food on this planet. Second, human literature is surprisingly insightful–surprising because my expectations for their art were low, given their primitive technology. Third, human penises seem puny based on the descriptions in this book.

Although I suppose there is a chance that in real life, human penises are the size of a Pers?n penis, and the author of this excellent novel merely wanted to inflate the ego of her own mate.

However, as good as the pie and the book are, my gut tells me it's time to move on. I have more recon to do, even if Joey is occupied with her classes.

Once I'm out on the street where no one is paying attention to me, I start up a subvocalized conversation with the Adjunct as I climb onto my Harley.

"Can I assume you've been tracking my location?" I ask.

"Yes. For security purposes that seemed prudent."

"Okay, then, without using earth miles, whatever the frack those are, can you direct me to the location of the other amulet?"

"Would you prefer I relay the distances in vohede ?"

I ease the Harley to the exit from the diner's parking lot. The town just isn't that big. If I can't find my princess's home in a town this size, I probably don't deserve to have her.

"Just tell me which direction to take and when to turn."

Thankfully the Adjunct sticks to my rules, and ten minutes later, I pull to a stop on a street of identical buildings. Each building has two doors on the first floor and a set of stairs leading up to another two doors on the second floor. According to the Adjunct, they are apartments. The amulet is located in a room on the second floor of the second building.

I park the Harley and climb off. "Can you tell if she's home?" I ask as I cross the street.

"She is not. Assuming the apartment containing the amulet is where she resides, she is not home."

Why does he have to say everything in the most convoluted way possible?

"So she's not at home?" I clarify. "Her apartment is empty?"

"Correct. Her apartment is void of living organisms of significant size to be-"

"Got it."

"However there is a living organism waiting by her back door."

My steps slow. "Like a pet or something?"

"Unlikely. It appears to be a human male."

I stop beside a car a few doors down from my Joey's apartment. "Describe him."

"What information would you prefer to know about him? His blood pressure is elevated and his heart rate is–"

"Don't give me a fracking med scan. Who is he?"

"I cannot be certain, but I believe he is the human male who was with Joey Kincaid in the diner."

"Are you fracking with me?" I mutter.

"Neither my programming nor my physical limitations would allow me to do so."

I mutter another curse, but this time I keep it entirely in my head.

"So you caught what happened in the diner, did you?" I've never been entirely sure how much the Adjunct monitors me when I'm not on the shuttle.

Obviously, I've had the chip for most of my adult life. Certainly for every mission I've completed on Perse. But usually I have other people with me and I don't rely on the Adjunct quite this much.

"I am uncertain what you mean," he says now.

"So you keep a record of everything I do? Even when I'm not in the shuttle?"

"Correct. Though if you would prefer I don't record your actions, you merely need to request that I stop recording."

Inexplicably, I think of kissing Joey. I remember how soft she felt in my arms. How she tasted.

"But even if you don't record what happens, you'll still see it?" Why does it bother me—the idea of this tiny slice of computer witnessing my interactions with my be'lahshuk?

I'm not sure exactly why it bothers me, only that it does. Kissing her feels sacred, and it's not something I want to share. Not with anyone. Not with anything.

"I do not see anything, the way an organic would. However, if you request it of me," the Adjunct replies, "I can temporarily sever the connection between your chip and the shuttle."

"Great."

"Shall I do so now?"

"No. First we need to take care of the asshole lurking outside my be'lahshuk's apartment."

I follow the Adjunct's directions to a path in the back of the row of apartments. It's poorly lit, littered with potholes and trash, and lined with cars that look like they haven't run in months. It's the perfect place to hide and lie in wait.

I grumble silently to the Adjunct, "I can't believe my mate lives so close to" –I step over a foul-smelling puddle of something greasy– "whatever this is."

"This is an alley, a common feature of human city design."

"It's a safety hazard, is what it is."

The Adjunct ignores my comment and says, "Your target is ahead on the right."

"Obviously," I subvocalize back, since I spotted him as soon as I turned the corner.

Though there are plenty of places to hide in this alley, my target, the asshole known as Brandon Jacks, hasn't bothered. He's sitting on the wooden stairs that lead up to the apartment the Adjunct has identified as Joey's. He has a brightly-lit handheld device in his hand which he taps on occasionally, causing the device to declare, "You crushed it!"

Given that I've trained as a soldier my whole life and run hundreds of recon missions on Perse, it almost feels too easy to sneak up on him. If he was anyone else–someone who hadn't dared to touch Joey without her permission–I might have gone easy on him.

But since he did dare to touch her, I don't.

I'm standing in front of him before he even looks up.

I give him at least that. A chance to see me before I grab him.

"What the–"

That's all he gets out before I grab the front of his shirt and lift him with one hand. "Why are you here?"

He's kicking his legs at me, but the impact barely registers.

"Let me go! You can't–"

"You will leave here and you will never bother Joey Kincaid again." I give him a shake. "Do you understand?"

I wait for him to nod before tossing him aside.

"Is it wise to let him go?" the Adjunct asks through my chip.

I turn to watch Brandon Jacks scrambling back toward the device he dropped. I answer the Adjunct aloud, so this weak human can hear my disdain. "This man isn't a threat to me. It would be a dishonor to my mate to kill such an incompetent opponent."

Jacks huddles in front of me, his back to me while he runs his hands over the ground, apparently looking for his device. Then he stands, slowly, squaring against me, chin up and eyes filled with rage.

Apparently this guy just isn't smart enough to stay down.

That's when I see the object in his hand. It's a piece of black metal a little longer than my forearm. I brace myself as he swings.

The blow still hurts, mostly because he hits my ion blade wound that's still healing. Still, I hide my wince, as I grab him again, with both hands this time, pulling him close. "That almost hurt," I bite out. "What was that?"

"That is a tool," the Adjunct replies, "called a tire iron."

Without room to swing, Jacks takes to stabbing at me with the weapon. It's not a blade, but one end of it forms a sharp wedge and he gets in several blows before I get my hand around the back of his neck.

Just before I pinch, the Adjunct reminds me, "Have you forgotten that your mate asked you not to use that technique?"

"Frack!" I hold him farther away from me. "So what am I supposed to do to him?"

Jacks clearly mistakes my question as being aimed at him. He snarls, "Let me go, you son of a bitch!"

He's still swinging that tire iron at me. He's too weak to do any serious damage, but I'm getting tired of this.

"If I can't knock him out, how am I supposed to incapacitate him?"

"You are a seasoned warrior," the Adjunct replies in my ear. "I am sure you'll think of something."

"Great. Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Meanwhile, Jacks is yelling at me about lawyers and men's clothing made of laws … I can barely follow his gibberish. But in my defense I only learned English yesterday.

Again, I throw him away from me. He lands on his back several strides away.

"You should leave while you can, Mr. Jacks."

He doesn't. Instead, he scrambles to his feet and faces off against me. He holds the tire iron over his head, but instead of waiting for me to come to him, he runs at me. I brace myself to grab it from him and wrestle him to the ground, but before he reaches me, a scream pierces the air."

I freeze, turning toward the sound, and see Joey standing at the far end of the alley.

"What the fuck?" she yells.

The tire iron clips my shoulder and I feel the sharp edge bite through the fabric of my shirt and dig into my flesh.

I whirl back towards him. "That is enough."

Instead of grabbing him, this time I grab the tire iron, wrenching it from his grasp and tossing it aside. Before he can recover from his surprise, I grab his forearm, twisting it sharply until he crumbles to the ground in front of me yowling in pain.

I hear Joey running up behind me. "Do the nerve thing! The pinchy thing!"

I plant my booted foot on Jacks's back to keep him down as I turn to look at her. "You told me I could not do that to people."

She waves her hands around in a gesture of wild frustration. "I meant you can't do that to people who are annoying you! If someone is coming at you with a tire iron, then do that!"

"Ah. Okay." Foot still on his back, I drop his arm, leaning over to apply pressure to his lynditsh nerve.

He instantly goes still.