Gabriel's Ghost Read Online Free PDF Page B

humans. The winged man’s mouth was open in a scream. Lovely decor.
    The bathroom was small but had nice thick towels on the rack. I splashed water on my face. I longed for the bath, but there was neither time nor inclination. I was traveling with a Stolorth, an aquatic humanoid that could gut a mind as easily as my dagger could gut a fish. Things deep and watery were best avoided, for now.
    I donned the shift, then the robe and was securing the wide, fabric belt when a knock sounded on the door.
    “Come.” It took me a moment to remember certain technologies couldn’t exist on Moabar. I had to walk to the door and manually open it.
    Sully was on the other side, grinning that disarming grin.
    And no doubt was also impatient. I hadn’t been ten minutes. “I’m ready.”
    He grabbed my shoulders, turned me around. I glimpsed something in his right hand. He waddle-marched me toward the long mirror on the wall.
    “Not yet.” He snatched the comb from the dresser on his right.
    “What do you think you’re—?”
    “Hush.”
    He sunk his hands into the long mass of hair I’d half-braided and tucked down the back of my robe. He began unraveling my braid. In the mirror I saw a length of corded leather, dotted with shiny silver beads, dangling from his fingers.
    “We don’t have time—”
    “Hush!” His grin faded, his brows slanting down. Concentrating. Braiding my hair, weaving in the beads and leather.
    Making amends for my hair wrap I’d tossed to the jukor? Or remembering that night in Port Chalo? I’m sure it had meant nothing to him. Or maybe he thought a few kisses had earned him the right to taunt me now.
    I wasn’t in the mood to be teased. “I can do that a lot faster than you.”
    “Hush, hush, hush.” Softly. His voice was not much more than a deep rumble in his throat. His hands were firm, yet more gentle than I would have thought he could be. And warm. A whisper of soft heat played down my neck where his fingers brushed against my skin. I didn’t pull away when they stroked my hair, my scalp, the back of my neck.
    I let myself sink into the sensations, bargaining with myself as I did so. Just a few seconds. It’d been so long. What harm was there in letting him braid my hair for me?
    My eyes wanted to close. I’d fought exhaustion for hours now. He was so warm. His knuckles brushed my jaw. Fingers traced my lips…
    Megan Sybil Baker - 21
    His intimate caress jolted my brain awake. I lurched forward, my hands splaying against the rough-hewn mirror frame. I caught a glimpse of his face, his obsidian eyes half-hooded, molten.
    I felt my own face flame with heat. I didn’t look back in the mirror for fear of confronting a fool I knew only too well. I turned. My braid swung heavily against my back. The beads on the leather cord tinkled lightly against the glass of the mirror.
    “Business deal, Sully. Strictly business.” I sounded far more breathy than I wanted to.
    He still watched me through hooded eyes, though the sensual curve on his lips was gone. We were almost toe-to-toe. But my hand already encircled the bracelet on my wrist, fingers on its spring-points.
    He let out a long, slow sigh. “Chasid—”
    “Brother Sudral? Sister Berri?” Drogue rapped on the door, walked in. And seemed totally oblivious to what was going on. Or else, with Sully, he was used to it. “We must be going.”
    Sully spun around, reached for the short, stocky man and clapped him on the shoulder. “I was ready an hour ago. It’s this one.” He jerked his hand back in my direction, but didn’t turn. “Has to fuss with her hair.”
    Why are all the handsome ones always such bastards?
    * * *
    We walked down the graveled road toward the spaceport, four robed figures of divergent sizes. An anti-grav pallet with our meager luggage trailed behind.
    Anti-gravs and thermal grids worked on Moabar. Auto-doors, medi-stats and a long list of other technological necessities didn’t.
    Humans fared only marginally