Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Sazahk looked stunning.

Garin had found him pretty from the moment he first saw him, but unique. Notable and attractive in particular because of the juxtaposition of his narrow hips and fine bone structure with his messy braid and functional clothing. Now, he looked every bit the gorgeous Qeshian elite. The crème de la crème of Qeshian high society.

It had to be his brother's doing. Garin didn't think Sazahk picked out the flowing golden robes himself, with the fabric so expensive it shimmered as it flowed around his legs like water.

Indeed, Emissary Serihk's lips twitched smugly as he looked across the ballroom to where Sazahk stood with the members of Squad M, all of which had turned out in the best clothes they had likely ever worn, though none of them compared to the qesh in their midst.

Garin thought he looked quite nice himself. He was pleased with the way his Human-style suit hugged his ass and accentuated the broadness of his shoulders, which weren't particularly wide but were a good starting point for the taper down to his waist. And he was right to be, if the stares he got from the surrounding men and women were anything to go by, especially the long one from a young ginger-haired man with the look of a politician's aide.

Still, there was nice and there was stunning, and Garin suddenly felt unsure of himself, faltering at the gala's entrance.

The event was nothing more than political theater. It masqueraded as a celebration of the cessation of hostilities between the Insects and the sector's original inhabitants, the new home to be built on Qesha for the Insects, and the betrothal of Dominic Turner and Prince Hyg that made it all possible. In reality, it was an exercise in evaluating the emerging power landscape. Guests attended to see and be seen and to form understandings of who would be in and who would be out in this new world.

That's what most guests attended for, at least. Garin and Squad M seemed to be invited purely because both Dom and Prince Hyg had genuine affections for them. Which might be the only thing the two had in common.

Garin hadn't been able to communicate with Dom since the Insects had saved them from the death trap of the Wate station. Judging by the phalanx of Insects and politicians surrounding him now as he stood at Prince Hyg's side, that wasn't about to change. But Garin had seen Dom in enough unpleasant situations to know the younger man was in agony and considering his husband-to-be hadn't looked at him once since Garin stepped in the room, he didn't think he found any comfort in his future spouse.

The presence of Oliver and his adoring Klah'Eel lover, General Mal'ik—Garin hadn't seen that one coming when he'd handed Oliver off to the older man all those months ago—probably didn't help Dom's mood. Garin considered joining the two of them to chat with Mal'ik, whom he'd long admired, and to nudge Oliver toward reconciliation with his brother, but he recognized the look on Oliver's face and the tilt of his jaw. He was in full, cutthroat-politician mode, and Garin wasn't touching that with a ten-foot pole.

He could mingle instead, he supposed, but what he really wanted to do was what he had originally intended to do: spend the evening with Squad M.

Either they or Garin's family had accompanied Garin constantly over the past week as he'd healed with the help of absurdly advanced Qeshian medical technology. His family had visited him regularly while he'd been bedridden and they'd dined and explored the station together afterwards, but they weren't used to spending so much time with each other and he'd needed space more often than not.

So Garin had spent his remaining hours with Squad M. He helped Fal'ran and Sazahk prepare for the excursion they'd planned for directly after the gala. He'd trained with them, laughed with them, worked in Sazahk's lab with them, and become surprisingly attached surprisingly quickly.

Patrick was a fellow soldier with a soldier's practicality and camaraderie. Fal'ran was sharp, perceptive, and always up for a challenge. Tar made you feel that if he had your back, you'd never need to watch it again. And Bar'in…well, Bar'in was clever and hilarious, but he didn't seem to like Garin very much, though Garin didn't for the life of him know why.

But for the entire week, no matter who else was present, Sazahk never left Garin's side.

Their shared quarters—Sazahk's with Squad M and Garin's in a recovery room with two other men—and companions made it impossible for them to be physically intimate beyond stolen kisses in hidden corners, but Garin didn't care.

He loved being with him. He loved watching every green imaginable spiral across his cheeks when his dark eyes lit up with curiosity. He loved listening to the lilt of his voice as he rambled about something that excited him. He loved feeling his own heart beat when that incredible intellect turned on to Garin himself as though he were fascinating and precious.

He loved…Garin swallowed as he stared at Sazahk from across the massive room. He'd been stopping himself just short of the realization for days now. Some thoughts couldn't be rewound, and he didn't dare think this one all the way through.

But then Sazahk turned and caught sight of him and a dark, burnished yellow to match his robes spilled across his nose as he smiled, and it didn't matter that Garin refused to think the thought, because that didn't make it less true. Garin's lips tugged into a matching smile at the shine in Sazahk's eyes, and he made his way over.

"I didn't peg you as the sort to be late." Sazahk widened the circle he stood in with Squad M.

"I'm not late." Garin slipped in beside him, waffling on how close to stand. His instinct was to stand near enough to mark them as a clear unit, but he was conscious of that and how inappropriate it was, so he backed off. But he didn't want to stand too far away and be awkward and distant. Damn it, he had lost all objectivity. "These things have a flexible beginning."

"I think he's right on time. They're finally serving some food." Bar'in jerked his head at the line of waiters holding trays of hors d'oeuvres streaming from a side entrance. Despite his words and gesture, though, he eyed the gap between Sazahk and Garin with a disapproving glint that made Garin think he'd mis-measured.

"Oh, I recognize that smell." Sazahk, oblivious as usual to Bar'in's tacit distaste for Garin, gasped and straightened. "I haven't tasted gurtyst in over a decade. I wonder if new variations have come to dominate given changing culinary trends. Garin, I want to see if you'll like them. Come with me?" Sazahk grabbed Garin's forearm without waiting for a reply, probably because he knew by now that Garin wouldn't deny him.

And he didn't. He laughed as Sazahk dragged him to the nearest waiter.

For the next hour, Garin forgot he was at a stuffy gala surrounded by conniving politicians celebrating a miserably betrothed couple. He even forgot that the next day Sazahk would disappear into the Dead Zone without Garin, and that Garin would disappear into the far reaches of the sector without Sazahk.

He forgot all of that and chased after the crazy qesh, balancing a dizzying array of morsels and drinks, obediently tasting every bite Sazahk stuck into his mouth and dutifully relaying his observations and opinions. They bickered, and laughed, and debated, and laughed again, learning each other's tastes and preferences.

Sazahk liked spicy foods, and Garin did not. Neither liked the heavily alcoholic beverages. Sazahk preferred baked goods, and Garin would never say no to something fried. When it came to cheese, they agreed: the stronger, the better.

The other members of Squad M rotated in and out of the fun. Patrick and Fal'ran were both too politically savvy to forgo the opportunity to network, but they participated in the cheese-platter sampling. Tar got roped into olfactory testing of different drinks, but he was too obviously pleased with his restored sense of smell to mind. Bar'in went where Tar went and despite the frequent looks he shot Garin during their antics, he still seemed to enjoy himself.

Garin didn't want it to end.

He knew it had to. Sazahk had said as much as they lay in Garin's hospital bed together. But…Garin couldn't quite swallow it.

He felt alive with Sazahk. Whole. Excited about everything in a way he'd never been before, swept off his feet by Sazahk's infectious enthusiasm. But that wasn't the worst part.

Garin's feelings made leaving agonizing enough, but he suspected his own feelings weren't the only ones at play. Sazahk felt something for him. He was sure of it. He saw it in the way Sazahk looked at him, grinning triumphantly at some new fact he'd learned, and the way he touched and brushed against him.

The worst part about leaving was that Garin was certain that if he stayed…they could have something.

But he wasn't staying. He couldn't. And so they couldn't have anything.

Sazahk hadn't ruled out a long-distance, long-term relationship, but he didn't have to. Garin wouldn't do that to him. He wouldn't trap him in that. Sazahk had endured being trapped by the selfishness of others enough.

So Garin wouldn't ask Sazahk to be with him, but he would, if they found some damn privacy, make sure the man knew just how badly he wished he could.

"I'm afraid I have to break up this…" Emissary Serihk approached and raised an eyebrow at Sazahk combining a crystal glass of green liquid with one of purple. "Experiment. Sazahk, may I speak with you?"

From what Garin had gathered, Sazahk's relationship with his brother had improved in the days since Garin and Dom's dramatic rescue. Which explained why Sazahk merely sighed and passed his concoction off to Tar, instead of biting his brother's head off. "In private, I assume?"

"I would prefer that, yes." Serihk stepped back and nodded toward a secluded corner. "It won't be long."

Sazahk shot Garin a pouting look that made Garin chuckle, and he motioned for Sazahk to follow his brother. Sazahk did so with another sigh, snagging his piled-up plate of eclectic nibbles, and Garin shook his head as he watched them retreat into a corner. Serihk's robes swished imperiously in a way Sazahk's just didn't, as though even their clothes understood their differences.

"I don't get you." Bar'in's sharp voice yanked Garin away from his sartorial musings.

"Excuse me?" Garin turned around to zero in on Bar'in. He wasn't interested in a fight, but he did want to know what exactly Bar'in's problem with him was.

"Why are you doing this to him?" Bar'in hissed, shoving his flute of Human-style champagne away as he leaned in.

"Doing what to him?" Garin recoiled, startled by the venom and accusation in Bar'in's voice, even though he'd known the conversation had taken a nasty turn.

"Jerking him around like this." Bar'in bared his teeth and stepped closer, reminding Garin that while Bar'in was small for his species, he was still a klah'eel, which made him bigger than Garin. "I mean, who does that to someone like him? He doesn't deserve that. If you don't want to be with him, then don't be with him."

"But I do want to be with him," Garin blurted out, more afraid of that misunderstanding than of the alien bearing down on him. "Of course I want to be with him. He?—"

"Just isn't worth the pay cut?" Bar'in raised his eyebrows. Tar, far less threatening despite his size, placed a hand on his shoulder, but Bar'in threw him off. "Isn't worth the move? Isn't worth the step down in prestige from guarding a Turner?"

"He's worth all of those things." Garin shook his head, on the back foot, but too baffled to be defensive. Sazahk was more than worth all of those things, and Bar'in knew that, and he had to know Garin knew that. "Of course he is, but I don't—I can't—That's not the choice I have."

"Isn't it though?" Bar'in's lip curled in disgust, and Garin's frustration broke through.

He balled his fists and struggled to keep his voice down, but the raw spots Bar'in poked hurt and leaving Sazahk hurt enough already. "No, it's very much not. I can't just leave my job. I have a family to support."

"So, you won't even consider his offer, but you'll drag his heart around on a string while you're here." Bar'in leaned in close enough for Garin to feel the heat of his breath, light glinting off the points of his tusks.

Garin wasn't fucking dragging Sazahk's heart around anywhere. He'd agonized over whether to ask Sazahk to be with him and he'd taken the blow and decided not to, even though it killed him, because he cared. He was considerate and conscientious, and he still had no idea what the fuck Bar'in's problem was. "What the hell are you talking about, Bar'in? What offer?"

"What—"

"Bar'in." Tar grabbed Bar'in's shoulder and pulled him back again. When Bar'in glared at him, Tar flared his nostrils in a deep, pointed inhale.

Bar'in frowned and sniffed at Garin. Then his expression slackened, and he paled. "Oh."

"What?" Garin's stomach curdled, his anger giving way to a slow horror. He looked between Tar and Bar'in. "What?"

Bar'in exchanged glances with Tar before replying slowly. "He didn't tell you. Did he?"

"Tell me what?" Garin's chest tightened, and he looked at Sazahk in the far corner, but he had his back to Garin and offered no answers. "Bar'in, what didn't he tell me?"

"Goddammit, that man is the most idiotic genius in the sector." Bar'in crossed his arms and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a long finger. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, and when he opened them, pity clogged their yellow depths. "Shit, I'm sorry. I thought he'd told you, but, evidently, not."

"Bar'in." Garin's voice shook, but he hoped Bar'in might mistake the shake to be from anger rather than panic. "Tell me what?"

Bar'in's look said he saw or smelled the panic clearly, the pity never leaving his gaze. "Patrick got you a position with us. It's not a lot of money and I get that you have responsibilities, but it's not nothing and it wouldn't be near as dangerous, and more importantly it would keep the two of you together, which—" Bar'in shrugged and looked to Tar who nodded in agreement "—we thought he wanted."

But he didn't.

Garin's world tilted sideways. He wished it would tilt farther. Flip all the way and drop him into the abyss.

Minutes ago, he'd been all but certain Sazahk's feelings mirrored his own. He'd been certain the relationship budding between them was the real thing. Deep. Meaningful. Something with a future if only the world was kinder.

The looming end of their time together had sucked the oxygen out of the room for him, but Sazahk…Sazahk hadn't even blinked.

Sazahk had had the chance to ask him to stay…and he hadn't.

"Hey, I still think he wants that." Bar'in grabbed Garin's upper arm and gave him an encouraging little shake, as though he hadn't been threatening to tear Garin's throat out seconds before. "He's crazy about you."

Except he wasn't. He wasn't crazy about him.

Garin had let Sazahk's confession go to his head. He'd been swept away by Sazahk telling him he was wonderful , and by the realization that Sazahk wanted him in a way that, by his own words, he rarely—if ever—wanted anyone. He'd let Sazahk's confession make him feel special.

And in his elation, he'd conflated romance, desire, admiration, fondness, commitment, relationships, and…love.

He'd fallen in love with Sazahk and to Sazahk he was a damn fling.

God, how could he have been so foolish? He'd gotten so carried away in his own head, he'd ignored everything Sazahk had told him for the weeks that they'd been together. At no point had Sazahk ever indicated either a past, present, or future interest in a relationship, but when he'd kissed Garin…it had felt like one.

He stared at Sazahk across the room, still talking to his brother, and missed Bar'in reaching for him. He jumped when Bar'in grabbed his forearm, his emotional fallout putting his body on high alert.

"Hey—"

"I'm fine." Garin shook him off. "I'm fine."

But he wasn't fine. He wasn't fine, and he was pretty sure Bar'in knew it. He was pretty sure Tar knew it. He was pretty sure anyone looking at him at that precise moment knew it. He'd been an idiot, and it felt stamped across his face.

And he had no one to blame but himself for the bile rising in his throat.

The pity in Bar'in's eyes ratcheted up to an unbearable level, and Garin stumbled back. He bumped into a waiter holding a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

"I'm so sorry." He caught the man's arm and straightened him before his complexly coiffed pastries hit the floor.

Bar'in winced. "Garin?—"

"I just—" Garin raised a hand and continued his retreat, his heart pounding in his ears. "I need a drink."

Bar'in opened his mouth and even Tar started forward, but Garin turned away. He didn't want to hear what they had to say. What could they possibly have to say? It was obvious to everyone what had happened.

Besides, apparently Garin couldn't be trusted to hear what people said. He could only ever hear what he wanted to hear.