Fallon's Fall (2 page)

Her cheeks flooded with color. She snatched the rope out of his hands and took a step back.

The men with her sensed the change in the atmosphere around them and immediately came to her aid.

“Let us buy you a drink,” one of the crewmen said.

Fallon ignored him. “Why aren’t you on Petron?”

“There’s nothing there for me.” She wound the rope around her hand and tucked it into a pouch that hung from the side of her flight suit.

Of all the places she could’ve turned up, she had to come to Terraless Firma. It hurt to look at her, but a black hole couldn’t tear Fallon’s gaze away. It had been too long. He had thought about her too often. Dreamt about Dora when he allowed himself to feel homesick,
to feel period
.

“How did you get here?” he asked.

She stared at him for what felt like an eternity, then shrugged. “I’m the chief healer on the
Anemone
.”

“That’s a prestigious position.”

Her lips thinned. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

He wasn’t. Dora had come a long way from the poor merchant girl his family had traded with. As a teen, she’d always talked about wanting to be a healer. Her home became a sanctuary for every wounded creature she came across.

He recalled the day they’d gone for a walk and come across a family of injured tibbars. Dora had insisted they take all of them back to her home. It had taken him two hours to catch all the floppy-eared, bushy-tailed creatures. In the end, he’d had sweat pouring down his face and tibbars flowing out of his pockets. But the effort had been worth it the moment Dora smiled at him. She’d nursed every single one of them back to health. She had been so proud the day she’d released the tibbars back into the wild. Fallon had held Dora as the creatures scrambled away. She’d cried and he’d never felt so helpless.

It took years to become a healer and even more to move through the ranks. To do so in ten was an impressive feat and spoke volumes about her skill. Skill that would be highly prized by any ship.

She ran a trembling hand through her hair, brushing the dark tendrils away from her face, giving him a glimpse of the girl he once knew. It only made Fallon hurt more.

“What brings you to Terraless Firma?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to tell her the truth, but the words wouldn’t come out. Fallon’s face heated. Dora was living her dream. He’d given up on his long ago. “I’m on leave from...” He glanced to his crew, who were now openly gaping at them. “I’m on leave,” he said softly.

Confusion swept over her face. “I thought you’d have taken over your father’s Morean trading empire by now.”

He would have… That’s what everyone had expected, since Fallon was the only son in a wealthy merchant family, but his plans had changed after he’d backed out of running away with her. His father had used the moment to prey on his insecurities. He’d accused Dora of making him soft.

It had taken Fallon two years of toiling on Morea under his father’s watchful eye to dispel that notion. By the time he’d gotten up the nerve to go back to Petron for Dora, she was gone. She’d been the only woman he’d ever wanted. Without her, his position in his family’s business was meaningless.

You had told her that you’d run away with her. You didn’t go back. What did you expect?

Fallon had been so angry with himself, angry with his father for interfering in his love life, and angry with Dora for not waiting, that he’d hopped on the first ship out of the solar system. He’d barely been twenty.

The universe could be cruel to a pampered youth. The first lesson that Fallon had learned was that softness was a weakness and emotion could get you killed. After that, he’d done whatever was necessary to survive. He wasn’t proud of every choice, but had no room for regrets.

Now here she was—his greatest dream and biggest failure.

“Working with my father didn’t pan out,” he muttered.

“Do you still design holographic gardens?” she asked.

Fallon shifted from foot to foot, his discomfort growing. “I haven’t done that in years.”

Dora’s frown returned. “That’s a shame. You were talented.”

He didn’t need the reminder.

“Over here, Dora,” one of the men shouted.

“I have to go. It was…nice to see you again,” she said, effectively dismissing him.

Fallon watched Dora leave. She didn’t waver or look back. It was as if he truly meant nothing to her, as if his essence had no effect on her whatsoever.

That was it? After all these years, that’s all she had to say to him? She couldn’t even muster any anger.

Fallon wasn’t sure what made him madder: The fact that he didn’t warrant another look or the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of Dora’s hand upon his horns.
He should’ve never taught her how to rope.

His gaze followed her shapely bottom as Dora made her way across the room to join her crewmen. A wall of smoke appeared in front of Fallon’s eyes, obscuring her. When it faded, his wraith-like crewmate, Reaper, stood before him.

“Stop doing that,” Fallon said. “You know I don’t like it when you pop in and out unexpectedly.” He’d appreciated Reaper’s abilities on several occasions, but Fallon never lost sight of the fact that one miscalculation on Reaper’s part would leave him dead. No one survived the wraith-like Being passing through them.

Reaper shook out his long brown coat to smooth the wrinkles and snickered. “Thought you might need some help with the woman.”

Fallon glared at him. “When have I
ever
needed help with women?”

Reaper’s black eyes twinkled with mirth as he rubbed his chin. “Can’t think of any time off the top of my head, but then again, I don’t recall any female able to bind you like a squawker.”

“She got lucky,” Fallon said. “That’s all.”

Reaper’s dark brow rose. “Looked like more than luck to me. Do you know her?”

“Not anymore,” he murmured.

Reaper blinked at that statement. “Fifty credits says you can’t take her down.” He slapped the orange credit chip on the bar next to Fallon's drink.

Fallon shoved the credit away. He didn't want to touch Dora. Was afraid to, given his reaction to her brush against his horns. “I don’t feel like getting my ass kicked by her friends.”

Reaper glanced over at the men surrounding Dora. “You could handle them all on your own, but if you want, I can take care of her friends.”

“I don’t think she’d appreciate you killing her crew,” Fallon said. “Neither would the Authority.”

“Who said anything about killing them?” Reaper asked. “Give me a little credit.”

“Exactly what would you like me to do to her?” Fallon asked.

“Tie her up like she tied you,” Reaper said.

“With what?” he asked. “The twine in my drink?”

Lex and Mars came up beside them. They both glanced at the credit on the bar and dug into their pockets. “We’re in!” they said in unison.

Fallon’s expression soured. “You don’t even know what’s going on.”

“Reaper’s bet that you can’t land the female,” Lex said. “Am I right?”

Close enough. Fallon glared at the fair-haired, blood-sucking alien grinning at him. The situation was far more complicated than that. “I’m surprised Shadow doesn’t want in on this bet,” he said in an attempt to change the subject.

Lex shrugged. “The Sorce prefers other diversions.”

Given the dark magic that Shadow wielded, those
diversions
were something none of them wanted to think about.

“So what are you going to do about the female?” Lex winked at him.

Fallon groaned in frustration. He didn’t want anything to do with this Dora of Petron. This Dora was too bold, too outspoken. Nothing like the girl that he'd
loved
.

She was the last thing he needed—last thing he wanted. Like all Horned Moreans, Fallon preferred his women subservient. This Dora would rather kick him in the teeth than bow down before his hard body. He didn’t know
this
woman.

What would it be like to have a female who could stand as his equal? A lick of heat raced through his veins and his stomach fluttered. He felt himself harden all over again.

Dora had managed to keep her expression calm until she turned away from Fallon. In her first year of training in the healing arts, she’d learned how to remain calm and project confidence. Patients wouldn’t trust someone who easily panicked or who gasped at the first sight of a wound. She still couldn’t believe that it was him. Not after all these years.

She’d always imagined what it would be like to see Fallon again. She had even played out exactly how it would go in her head if she did. But the moment he’d said her name and Dora had gotten a good look at his handsome, pale green face, all the years of practiced indifference had slipped away. She’d gone from confident woman to insecure, lovesick girl in a flash and it had left her shaken to the core.

She couldn’t still love him. Not after what he’d done to her.
It’s just the shock of seeing him again
, she told herself. Dora took a seat next to her crewmen and covertly glanced his way.

Black flight pants encased his long legs, ending at his trim waist. He’d strapped a wicked looking dagger with a gold handle to his left thigh and a blaster to his right. The material encasing his wide chest and broad shoulders strained to conceal his muscles. His light green arms flexed as he opened and closed his hands.

With his square jaw, full lips and tilted sunrise colored eyes, he was still handsome, but there was a hardness to Fallon that hadn’t been there when they were young. The warmth that used to shimmer in his eyes was gone, replaced by jaded certainty.

Every inch of him had been honed to perfection. You didn’t get that way without enhancements. Dora wondered what he’d done to himself. Mercs, healers, soldiers, and criminals often altered their genetics in order to do their jobs more efficiently and to accelerate healing. She’d come across a few mercs over the years and had tried to treat their injuries. They’d refused. She’d had no choice, but to watch as their skin stitched itself back together before her eyes. She wondered what category Fallon fell under.

Her gaze shifted to the horns sprouting from his skull. Three inches above each ear, they’d barely protruded from his head when they were teens. Now the horns arched toward the back of his skull before swooping around in a half arc and ending in deadly points near his jawline.

Now that she had touched them, Dora couldn’t help but wonder what those ridged horns would feel like against her naked body. She brushed her hands over her pants once more to remove the sticky substance covering her fingers. Dora had heard the stories about Morean males’ sexual appetites and what they could do with their horns, but it had been hard for her to merge the memories of the insecure boy she’d loved with that carnal image.

Staring at Fallon across the bar, Dora had no problem seeing him in a new light. Every inch of him screamed typical Morean male. And it took everything she had not to run out of the bar.

What had happened to the softhearted dreamer? The one who designed a holographic garden just so she could stumble upon it during their walks? He’d loved surprising her, loved spending hours creating lavish environments. His sensitive nature put him at odds with his father, but it was what had drawn her to him in the first place.

Why hadn’t Fallon taken over his father’s business? He’d been groomed for the position since he was a child. His family’s wealth was one of the reasons their fathers had been so against their relationship. One, but not the only reason. His father hadn’t liked her influence on Fallon. He blamed her for his son’s big dreams. He believed she was the reason Fallon was so sensitive and why he had trouble concentrating. Placing blame was easier than accepting that his son was different.

While Fallon’s father focused on who to blame, her father spent his time doling out warnings. He had told Dora from the start that Fallon’s gentleness was an act and that he only wanted to bed her. She should not expect anything more from a boy who was part of the Morean elite.

But Dora hadn’t believed him. She and Fallon had planned to defy their families and run away together. She’d thought for sure that she knew him better than anyone else. She had loved him with all her heart and had convinced herself that everyone—especially her father—was wrong about Fallon.

When the truth was finally revealed, and Fallon hadn’t returned for her like he’d promised, Dora had been devastated. She feared that he was the arrogant, domineering male that her father claimed. It didn’t help that the news of the Morean tossing her aside had spread throughout her whole village. Insidious whispers about him getting what he’d wanted had followed. It wasn’t true, but by then no one would listen.

For the first few months, Dora didn’t think she’d survive the pain—didn’t want to survive without Fallon. She’d destroyed every holographic garden that he’d created for her. Eventually, she’d pulled herself together and left Planet Petron determined to prove to Fallon, her family, and all the others that she was worth more than a quick roll in the
floffs
. She’d harnessed her anger and used it to excel. She left the little girl she used to be behind in order to become an honored chief healer.

Yet, even after achieving everything she’d set out to do, Dora hadn’t found the peace she’d expected. She loved her job, but she’d never been able to shake her restlessness. A restlessness that Fallon seemed to stir up like a cosmic dust storm.

His sharp gaze found her and she shrank down in her seat, unable to face the one man she’d wanted to confront. The one man who’d laid waste to her heart. The one man in the universe she hated…and still
loved
.

No! She didn’t love him. Not anymore. To do so would make her a masochist.

“You okay?” the crewman next to her asked.

Dora tore her gaze away from Fallon. “Yeah, I’m fine, Cooper.” She gave him a weak smile.

“Who is he?” Cooper asked, a hint of jealousy in his voice.

“He’s someone I knew a long time ago.”

She and Cooper had gone out a few times. Nothing serious—at least on her part. Dora didn’t do serious anymore. Work always came first, but she had planned to spend her leave with Cooper. A few nights in a soft pallet with a handsome man was just what she needed to erase all memories of Fallon.