Treyjon: Star Guardians, Book 2 Read online

  Before the leash played out all the way, the svenkar started moving again. To Angela’s relief, she didn’t run past her or fight for the lead. She walked behind, her snout in the air, sniffing noisily as she took in the city scents.

  At first, Treyjon didn’t follow, and she worried she would have to stop as soon as she got to the bottom of the ramp. A mix of civilians and people in military uniforms were streaming past below, toward all manner of moving walkways, and she had no idea where they were headed. But Treyjon trotted after them and caught up.

  He walked to her right, the opposite side from where the svenkar was settling in, and stayed slightly behind her, even though he would have to play the role of tour guide. Angela was concentrating on her pack leader role, and making sure the svenkar sensed her authority, but she gave him a quick smile, pleased that he was playing along.

  He smiled back, the gesture for her and only her. She had seen him smile before, but it hadn’t been like this, and she found herself flushing with heat again. Her thoughts started to stray, but the svenkar growled at someone, and Angela yanked her mind back to the task.

  She made a corrective noise and looked sternly back at the animal. It was disconcerting as hell to have the svenkar’s eyes at her eye level, and to see that open fang-filled mouth so close, but she didn’t let her concerns show on her face or in her body language. She turned and continued on.

  “Let’s go left,” Treyjon said. “Do a couple of laps around the base before we venture out into the city.”

  “You’re the tour guide.”

  “It’ll give her a chance to settle down, burn off some energy, not that walking is arduous for them. They have to run and run to get tired.”

  Angela nodded. “I’ve had the same experience with a lot of dogs. Then, when you get them tired, they’re a lot easier to work with.”

  “Yes.” Treyjon gave her that smile again, but she was focused on walking the svenkar past a group that included children, so she only returned a quick nod.

  She would be foolish to think that her charge wouldn’t test her authority at some point.

  • • • • •

  Treyjon pretended to look toward the vendors and robots rolling around the concourse offering alcoholic beverages and tacky tourist knickknacks, but he had a hard time looking away from Angela and the way she handled the female. Whatever animals she trained back home must have some similarities to the svenkar, or else, she just instinctively knew how to handle them. Which would be a very unique quality. Most people looked at the big animals the way Juanita had, with eyes full of wariness and distaste. Or outright fear. Even now, as they walked past people, the civilians and soldiers alike were giving them wide berths, scurrying to get away from the svenkar.

  The handful of aliens they passed—Gemi, Krrrn, and Alabaster alike—had similar reactions. Svenkars were known and feared throughout the galaxy.

  Treyjon had hardly been able to believe it when Angela accepted the leash and turned her back so she could lead the female. It had been the right move, of course, but she must have felt the animal’s hot breath on her neck. Yet she hadn’t flinched. Treyjon never would have guessed that she had that kind of backbone and could exude such authority. She was chatty with the other women, but she didn’t stand out as a leader. Sometimes, she even blended in, despite her vibrant white-and-purple-flowered dress. More forthright women like Juanita did the talking. But now that he knew about this hidden talent of hers, he found her quite… appealing.

  All right, more than appealing. He’d only ever met one other woman that wanted to train svenkars, and she’d been an old harpy with claws longer than theirs. He wondered if there was any way the captain would allow Angela to stay aboard the ship, if she wanted to, so he could teach her to work with them. Did she know anything about hunting and tracking? It seemed she must. Maybe she could become his apprentice, a backup for when he wasn’t around or when two trackers were needed on a mission.

  Oh, the odds of her being made a Star Guardian were low, but there were times when civilian experts were brought on to Star Guardian ships.

  A group of boys with bats ran about nearby, hitting a ball to each other and making a lot of noise. The svenkar growled low in her throat and looked that way, as if she meant to spring into the group and chomp on them.

  Hearing the growl, Angela turned, making a noise to draw the female’s attention. The svenkar glanced at her, but looked right back at the boys. They were noisy and obnoxious, and Treyjon couldn’t blame the animal for wanting to break them up—or chew on them a little—but the police would put down a svenkar that caused trouble in the city, so they had to be particularly vigilant here.

  He was on the verge of suggesting the shock collar when Angela stepped around to block the view of the boys.

  “Eyes on me,” she told the creature, her tone firm.

  Of course, a svenkar wouldn’t understand, but the female did focus on her.

  “Good girl,” Angela crooned in a softer, pleased voice.

  For a moment, the svenkar seemed to consider whether she wanted to listen and be a “good girl.” Then she lifted her chin, the gesture revealing her throat. Angela reached up and scratched her there.

  A few young soldiers who had been walking by tripped or gaped openly at this display. They gawked both at the svenkar and at Angela, who smiled as the female—Lulu, she’d named it—shifted her head to reveal a different spot. One of the soldiers slowed down, elbowing another and pointing at Angela. He gave her a head to toe perusal. His buddy nodded in appreciation and nudged him back.

  Treyjon felt a surge of protectiveness and stepped around Angela so the soldiers would see him, his Star Guardian uniform, and the corded muscles of his forearms. He glared at them, feeling an abrupt urge to rest a hand on Angela’s waist. The soldiers frowned at him, but they picked up their pace again, moving away.

  Satisfied, Treyjon turned back to Angela. She was focused on the svenkar and didn’t seem to have noticed the exchange. She probably had no idea how much attention this display was attracting, especially from passing men. That was fine. He would protect her.

  Protect her? the voice in the back of his mind asked. Or claim her for your own?

  He almost snorted. He just wanted an assistant trainer. Someone who understood svenkars. Someone who defended them when others talked poorly of them. Someone who had, however unlikely it was, won the regard of this female.

  That was the argument he used on the voice in the back of his mind, but he realized that his groin was getting uncomfortably tight as he watched Angela. By the gods, what kind of weirdo was he? To get aroused by a woman just because she could handle a svenkar?

  Of course, it wasn’t as if she didn’t have other appealing attributes. Though slender, she had all the curves a woman should have, and he found himself noticing the way her breasts pressed against the fabric of her dress as she lifted her hand to stroke the svenkar’s chin. The fabric clung nicely to her hips too. And her ass. It wasn’t a huge one, but it was well shaped, and he had no trouble imagining cupping her cheeks with his hands. While he kissed her full lips, occasionally looking into those electric green eyes.

  She turned those eyes toward him, smiling widely, clearly pleased that she’d convinced the svenkar not to eat those kids. Those kids that he’d forgotten all about while he’d been thinking about how nice it would be to drag her off between a couple of the vendor stalls and slide his hands up her dress to explore the curves he’d been admiring.

  Judging by her innocent smile, she was oblivious to his thoughts.

  Thoughts that were, Treyjon realized, completely inappropriate right now. He’d chased off those soldiers who’d been checking her out so he could stand in front of her with his cock turning into a rocket in his trousers. While people were walking by to either side of them. All it would take was for someone to look down to see the tent he was pitching. All it would take was for her to look down.

  She would probably be horrified. Just th
at morning, that idiot Jarok had forced her to flee out of the rec room. He doubted she wanted anything to do with any Star Guardians right now.

  “Well done,” he said, then cleared his throat. Zeus’s butthole, could she hear how raspy his voice sounded?

  He hoped she thought he was developing a cold, not that his throat was full of lust.

  Her smile widened. “Thanks.”

  He shifted to stand next to her, trying to angle his hips so his erection wouldn’t be apparent if she looked down. Why hadn’t he brought a bag or something to hang in front of it?

  “Let’s do one more lap around the station, and then we’ll take her out into the city.” He wished he could take Angela out into the city. Just her. Maybe if she got to know him a little better, such as over a dinner or theater event, she wouldn’t see him as just another big Star Guardian who couldn’t keep his paws off the women on the ship. Usually, being a Star Guardian would be a draw for women, but he could understand why the Gaian ladies wouldn’t feel that way. “Or maybe we’ve done enough with her for the day,” Treyjon suggested casually as they walked back toward the ship.

  “Already?” Angela gave him the most disappointed look.

  “This is a lot for her. We could take her back and then go into the city for that tour?” He felt completely hypocritical as he asked—hadn’t he just acknowledged that Angela wouldn’t want anything to do with Star Guardians? But that didn’t keep him from trying. “We could find those pastries you were asking about. I’ll happily buy you a box. I owe you for taking care of the svenkars while I was in sickbay.”

  He grimaced, reminded that she’d seen him knocked on his ass by some scruffy slavers. Granted, they had vastly outnumbered him, but he felt he should have been able to hold them all off, not get himself shot and end up flat on his back while the captain and Mikolos came in to save everyone.

  “Oh!” For the first time, Angela seemed to forget the svenkar and the authority she was working on exuding. She gripped Treyjon’s arm with an expression of sheer delight coming over her face. “I would love pastries.”

  Lulu must have noticed the lapse because she tugged at the leash, eyeing a robot selling stuffed gordoza leaves, the scent of roasting meat filling the area.

  Angela hurried to reassert herself and started back toward the ship. On a whim, Treyjon ran over and paid for a couple of the meals. He thought Angela might like a sample of the local cuisine before she binged on pastries. The robot vendor was exceedingly efficient, reading the banking chip under his skin and delivering stuffed leaves in paper wrappers, and Treyjon caught up with Angela before she’d had time to wonder at his absence.

  The Falcon 8 lay ahead, so it wasn’t as if she could have gotten lost.

  He chuckled at how small the Star Guardian ships looked next to a fleet battleship looming beside the Falcon 8, taking up not one but three docking platforms. He was surprised something that size could fly down to land at all. Some ships were constructed in orbital shipyards and never expected to fly into planets’ atmospheres.

  He much preferred the more versatile fire falcon and knew a lot of those soldiers would sell their family members for a chance to be a Star Guardian. Knowing that made him feel proud, and he hoped Angela would one day come to see that Star Guardians were honorable and noble overall, even if a few of them got stupid around women. And even if Lieutenant Commander Varro was an idiot who’d only been selected because he was some genius accountant and got the Falcon 8 the best deals on supplies when they flew to alien worlds.

  A person lurking in the shadow of the battleship caught his eye. He wore plain civilian clothes and had an unremarkable face that Treyjon only noticed because of where he stood. He was leaning against the hull of the ship, looking toward the Falcon 8’s cargo ramp. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, his stance utterly casual. Maybe a practiced casual. Something about it—and him—didn’t ring true to Treyjon’s tracker senses. The man’s position in the shadows seemed quite deliberate, as he stood in a spot where the soldiers disembarking from the battleship wouldn’t likely notice him. Nor would the Star Guardians notice him as they left. Someone coming aboard might spot him over there, but if they did, he appeared… perfectly normal.

  Treyjon looked around for other oddly normal people among the eclectic mix of humans and aliens walking, triking, and hover-chairing past. Everyone else was hurrying somewhere, eager to reach their ships or eager to leave them. No, not everyone. He spotted another plain-clothed man farther down the wide promenade that ran along the docking platforms.

  This one wasn’t looking at the ships. He rested his forearms on a railing and gazed out into the city. But as Treyjon watched, he bent his head and spoke into his logostec. Right after he finished, the lips of the man in the shadows moved. The rest of his body remained the same, but he was definitely speaking to someone over his comm.

  Interesting.

  “How am I doing?” Angela asked, more focused on being a leader for Lulu than on her surroundings.

  Which made perfect sense. Had Treyjon been working with the svenkar, he might not have noticed these people, either. Though he liked to think he was alert to his surroundings and would have.

  “Good,” he said, smiling and nodding toward her. He kept the nearest of the suspicious men in his peripheral vision, but he avoided looking directly at him. Let the man think he was smitten with the woman at his side and hadn’t noticed him at all. “You’ve both done well.”

  Treyjon passed her one of the stuffed leaves he’d purchased, the absorbent paper making it easy to grip and sucking up the grease that would have run down their hands.

  “It’s not a pastry, but a lot of the tourists enjoy them.”

  “Thank you.” She took a chomp without sniffing it or examining it in any way.

  He raised his eyebrows at this sign of trust.

  “I knew anything would be better than those raw steaks that pass for food on your ship.”

  “They’re not raw. They’re—”

  “Lightly seared, I know. That’s what Tala said. And I think it’s bull.” As Angela took another bite, the svenkar shifted closer and nudged her in the back.

  Treyjon tensed, not sure if that would turn into an overture for food or if the female might use this moment of distraction to try to establish her own dominance and her willingness to lead the pack.

  Angela turned and held up a piece of meat from within the wrap. The svenkar promptly sat on her back haunches. Angela tossed the treat into her mouth, as if they’d done this hundreds of times before and it was the expected scenario.

  Treyjon was so busy watching that he almost missed seeing Captain Sagitta walk out of the ship. He wore his dress uniform, so he must be on his way to meet with the archons. Treyjon wouldn’t have thought any more of it, but as soon as the captain passed the man leaning on the railing, the man at the battleship detached himself from the hull. With his hands in his pockets, he strolled toward the same moving walkway the captain headed toward.

  “What have we here?” he murmured.

  “She likes it,” Angela said, then noticed he was looking elsewhere and followed his gaze.

  The plain-clothed man glanced toward them, and Treyjon realized he’d made a mistake in drawing Angela’s attention to his presence. If the man saw both of them staring at him, with Treyjon in his very obvious Star Guardian uniform, he would know he’d been observed. He might abort his mission, whatever it was. Treyjon didn’t want that, not until he found out what was going on.

  “Who wouldn’t like it?” He turned back to Angela and caught her chin with his hand since it seemed a more subtle way to draw her attention than blurting, “Don’t look!” He smiled and said, “You’ve got sauce on your chin.”

  “Oh, it’s messy.”

  “But good, right?” He shifted his thumb to wipe the sauce away.

  She stood very still and gazed into his eyes as he touched her. Treyjon was aware of the man still looking in their direction. Was it becau
se the svenkar, sitting on the pavement and hoping for more meat, was an odd sight? Or was he wondering if Treyjon had spotted him?

  Maybe Treyjon needed to convince the man that he had absolutely no interest in anything going on over there. Angela had sauce on her lower lip too. He could have brushed it off with his thumb, but inspiration struck, and he leaned in to kiss her.

  It was an admittedly distracted kiss, as he was watching the svenkar to one side and the man walking after Sagitta to the other, not to mention thinking of how he would explain the move to Angela. In truth, he expected her to draw back in surprise—or maybe alarm or horror—and he questioned the move as soon as their lips touched together. If she reared back and slapped him, that would only draw more attention.

  But he was the one who ended up surprised. She kissed him back, immediately and warmly.

  The hand holding the wrap lowered, and the svenkar inched forward and extracted it from her grip with an impressively light touch, like a practiced jewel thief instead of a huge predator. It took him a couple of stunned seconds, but Treyjon realized Angela was enjoying the kiss.

  His first thought was that her enthusiasm would make this look real to the man scrutinizing them. His second was realizing that, as distracted as he was by his split focus, he was enjoying the kiss too.

  Her lips were so warm and inviting, and she parted them, as if hoping he would share more of himself with her. He slid his tongue into her mouth, stroking hers and enjoying the eagerness with which she welcomed him. As they’d been walking, his cock had lost some of its irritating hardness, but blood surged to it once again, and it thrust against his trousers, demanding its freedom.