Born of Legend (13 page)

“Ass-kicking it is.” Jullien stood slowly. “Last chance to walk out of here on your own.”

Lev hesitated as he realized that Jullien was taller than he'd assumed.

And broader.

For some reason, no one seemed to appreciate his size. He'd never understood why that was. He towered over most beings and yet they didn't seem to comprehend that fact until it was too late.

Like now.

Refusing to back down and lose face with his crew, Lev reached for him.

In one fluid movement, Jullien caught him in the solar plexus, which would preclude him from making fire. Then he punched him in the throat. Catching him, he spun and set Lev into the booth before going after the next one.

Jullien punched and caught him fast, dropping him straight to the floor. When he went for the third, that one wisely stepped back and held his hands up.

“I've got no problem with you, brother.”

Jullien cast his gaze around to make sure there were no other threats.

Misha and Petya stared at him, slack-jawed.

“You said you didn't want a mess in your place.”

Petya inclined her head to him. “Appreciate it.”

Jullien pulled out his wallet and left half his money, hoping the tip would cover the inconvenience. Keeping his back away from the third crewman, he made his way from the restaurant and hoped that he hadn't just signed his own death warrant with that outburst.

If he had …

His grandmother would be celebrating over his corpse tonight.

As he headed for his new job, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the store windows and winced.

No wonder they'd attacked him. He looked like the worst sort of vagrant dog. Yeah, he was clean. But ragged as hell. Baggy clothes. Second-hand, stained coat that had been patched and repatched to the point he looked like he should be huddled over a flaming barrel with a bottle of hooch near some abandoned factory somewhere. Boots that were held together with electrical tape. He looked down at his bruised hands and torn claws.

You're disgusting! A disgrace to the entire lineage of eton Anatole! No wonder your mother won't come out of her room. Who can blame her? I wouldn't sober up either if I had to face
you
as my son!

It wouldn't have burned nearly as much had it not been the truth.

Pushing his aunt's harsh criticisms away, he turned the collar of his ragged coat up and headed toward the hangar for work.

When he went inside the office, he caught the clerk's sneer of revulsion, until she focused on his face. Then her look turned a bit more welcoming. “Can I help you?”

“Gunnar told me to report for work this morning.”

“Oh … you must be Dagger. Hold a minute.” She got up and went to another office.

When she returned, she was leading a blond male who slowed his walk as he focused on Jullien's form. He raked a calculating stare from the tips of Jullien's scuffed boots to the top of his head. “I was told to make sure and give you a thorough introduction of how we do things. Gunnar said that you knew about ships?”

“I do.”

“How much you know about Tavali?”

“General information. Nothing specific.”

“If you'll follow me … I'll show you where you can change into work overalls and store your gear.”

Jullien headed into the back with him. As he started to remove his blaster, a bad feeling went through him. Honestly? He'd rather give up a testicle than his weaponry. Testicles he could live without.

Weapons …

You're being paranoid.

“You can't work in the bay armed. It's against all regulations.”

Yeah, that was what he figured. Still …

Jullien placed his holster and weapons in the locker and followed his manager to the hangar. “Are you the OOD?”

“Yeah. And let me give you a quick tutorial on Tavalian culture and how things work around here. See this…” He pointed to his sleeve where The Tavali wore their national flags, individual Canting and ranks. “Designates the Nation we fly for. The solid black flag with the screaming skull is for the True Black Flag Nation, Gorturnum. That's us. We were the first of the Tavali Nations ever created. The patch under it is my personal Canting, then my rank. These three things mean that I'm a Tavali citizen with rights in this Nation. Notice you don't have any Canting, flag, or rank.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“No, I don't think you do. See, what that blank sleeve on
your
arm means is that you are a slag. Without rank or citizenship. You're not even a cock. So you don't speak to Tavali unless we speak to you. You don't count in our world, and you don't exist. You're a ghost here with
no
voice and
no
rights.”

Jullien froze as he saw a group of Tavali moving in to form a circle around him.

“You damn sure don't dine with one of our admirals like you hold rank. You don't even look at our females.”

“Yeah,” another Tavali said behind him. “And you damn sure don't attack a commander, slag. Because you attack one of us. You attack us all.
That's
what being Tavali means.”

“And
you
ain't Tavali, dog.”

Jullien silently winced as he mentally did the math in his head. Not that he needed to. One to twenty …

This would hurt if they were planning to do it barehanded. The fact they were picking up tools for his beating …

Fuck it.

He swept his gaze around the group and smiled at them. “Well hell, boys. If I'd known you were throwing me a welcome party, I'd have brought some beer.”

 

C
HAPTER
5

Ushara had promised herself that she wasn't going to act like some lovesick teenager with a crush on the latest crooning heartthrob. After all, she was the vice admiral of the oldest Nation of the Tavali fleet. The right hand of the most powerful commander they had. While she was young, she was as jaded as anyone ever born. Wise and strong.

Mature.

She was one of the best of Trajen's pilots. The commander he trusted above all others. She wasn't checking on Jullien over infatuation. Not even a little. It was merely gratitude for what he'd done with Vasili, and she wanted to make sure that he was settling in with his new job and quarters all right.

That was her duty as vice admiral—to ensure that any new member of their station merged well with their society. They had to mesh or be thrown out.

Of course, they didn't normally get such personal service from her, but Jullien had saved the life of her son … She owed him.

Yeah, she knew she was lying to herself and making excuses for why she was seeking him when she had no business doing so.

No matter how much she denied it, she was drawn to him even though she knew it was all kinds of stupid. There was just something about him that she couldn't get out of her mind. Something about him that touched her heart in a way no one ever had before.

Not even her husband.

Still, she was proud of herself. She'd gone almost two full days without bothering him or spying on his whereabouts. But after two days, she wanted to make sure that he didn't need anything.

Trying not to be obvious, she headed into the bay and acted like she was inspecting ships and cargo, which was technically within the parameters of her job.

Sort of.

She scanned the ground crews, seeking an exceptionally tall male, with black hair, broad shoulders, a lethal predator's lope, and a quirky sense of biting, self-deprecating humor.

Disappointment filled her when she didn't see him right away.

Where could he be? He was a hard one to miss, even in a large crowd. Face it, dark Andarion males tended to stand out among her Fyreblood breed. Especially ones with his noble, badass carriage.

“Hey, babe.”

She paused as her brother Davel came up from beside her and placed a kiss on her cheek. She gave him a light hug. “Hey. You just getting in?”

Dressed black-on-black, her brother nodded. At six-two, he was a huge mass of overdeveloped muscles. Too big, in her opinion, with short, spiked white blond hair and silvery-white eyes that were identical to hers. As her older brother, he was forever overbearing and bossy—nosy to the extreme, and since the death of her husband, had tried to step in as Vasili's father with unwarranted advice and opinions on how her son should be raised. Something both she and her son weren't happy about. At the rate Davel was going, it was a race to see which of them took out a League contract for his life first—her, or Vas.

Still, she loved him and knew he meant well. She just wished he'd stick to sending his own family into therapy, and leave her son for her to screw up alone.

“Where's the rest of your crew?” she asked, looking around for them.

“They took off already for home. I saw you over here, nosing around, and wanted to make sure everything was okay. Paka told me what happened with Vas. How'd slavers get ahold of him, anyway?”

“I allowed him to go off with a small group of friends to Paraf Run.” She glared at him as fury filled her over the near catastrophe. “Because of
your
wife.”

He paled. “
My
wife?”

Hands on hips, she nodded as even more anger ripped through her. “Yes! Telling me that I was overprotective and ridiculous. That I needed to loosen my death grip on my child before I damaged his sense of independence and made him afraid to venture out on his own. So what happens the minute I relent? Sex slavers see his fair-hair and beautiful face, and grab him off the street. Thank you both for your expert opinions on parenting. You're both so awesome. 'Preciate it.”

He cursed under his breath. “Am I a widower?”

“Not yet. You have your mother to thank for that, and the fact that your wife's pregnant and I didn't want the soul of your innocent unborn child on my conscience. But next time Fara interferes…”

“You know she would have never risked Vasili.”

She held her hand up sharply to cut him off. “Don't care. She needs to stay out of my business. And so do you. How I raise my son is none of her concern, especially after this.”

He must have realized how close to death he stood because, for once, he backed down. “All right. I will have this discussion with her. Though I'm sure you've already done so.”

“Yes, I have. And yes, she's now terrified of me.”

He nodded. “Point taken. Do I need to buy her a wig?”

Ushara snorted. “Don't push me, Davel. I'm still not over what could have happened to him. It was way too close and that boy is all I have in this realm. I've already buried my husband. I will
not
bury my son.”

He sobered, “I know. We were all shaken by it and you know I would die before I allowed harm to come to my blood.” Frowning, he scanned the bay with her. “What are you looking for, anyway?”

No sooner had he asked than her gaze fell to the very male she sought. Trying not to betray herself, she shrugged. “Nothing. Just passing through the area. Why don't you go on and say hi to your family? I know your kids have missed you. They need to know their paka's home.”

“You're lying about what you're up to, but fine. I know when you don't want me around.” He kissed her cheek again and wandered off.

Knowing her family wouldn't approve of her talking to an Ixurian, Ushara waited until he was out of sight before she headed straight to Jullien, who was working on the hydraulics system for a loader. Yet as she neared him, she noticed he wasn't moving with his usual fluid grace. Rather his movements were slow and laborious. Methodical.

It wasn't until he jerked around, ready for battle, at her approach that she saw why.

“Oh my God!” she gasped. One side of his face was swollen horribly from a beating. He could barely open his left eye and his lips were split and scabbed over. “What happened to you? Did you get run down by a freighter?” she breathed, moving forward to touch him so that she could examine his injuries.

Stepping out of her reach, he glanced around before he returned to working. “What can I say,
mu tara
? I make friends everywhere I go.” As he bent over to retrieve a wrench, his shirt rode up his back to expose more bruises along his spine.

Horrified, she pulled it away from his skin to reveal the true nightmare of what had been done to him. Dear gods, she could see the entire outline of heel and toe prints. “What is this?”

He took his shirttail from her hands and tugged it down. “I believe the term is
boot party
.”

“Jullien … did you report this to the HCs?”

“Why? It's the only time in my life anyone's ever thought enough of me to bother hosting any kind of party in my honor. I'm actually quite touched that they went to the trouble.”

“You're not funny.” She pulled her link out. “I want the names and descriptions of everyone you remember.”

With stoic features, he pushed her link down. “I don't remember anything, Admiral. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have work to do.”

His curt tone wounded her. And come to think of it, he was acting very strange. Not his usual charming self. Rather, he was standoffish and cold. He wouldn't even meet her gaze.

“What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing,
mu tara
. I merely have a lot of work to do, and I really need to see to it.”

Her heart lurched as she finally understood what had happened. “They beat you for eating with me, didn't they?”

He sighed, but still wouldn't meet her gaze. “I was merely educated on Tavali custom and code, and where I fit into your society.”

“And you're okay with what they did to you? You're content to let them get away with this and not be punished for it?”