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Oliver stood and paced, running his hand through his hair. “So we can assume that at least that one was very successful.”
Mal’ik tracked Oliver as he walked back and forth across the room. “That’s probably a safe assumption.”
Oliver smelled of stress and despair, but overpowering all of it was an increasingly aggressive scent of frustration.
Oliver flexed and fisted his hands as he walked. When he stopped, his fists were so tight, his knuckles were white, and he glared at the wall. “I get one last chance and it’s blown to hell just like the first one. My father won’t bother to even look at me again.”
Emotion threatened to explode out of Mal’ik’s chest, and he reined it in quickly. He stood still: measuring, thinking, marshaling. Oliver’s father was a pissant bastard whose opinion meant less than nothing. Mal’ik had no doubt about that.
But he also had no doubt that convincing Oliver not to care was impossible. Mal’ik would have done anything for his father as a child. And then he’d have done anything for the Gat’Raph. He had done anything for the Gat’Raph. He had invaded half a planet and slaughtered the humans that stood in his way when he was Oliver’s age.
What Mal’ik did have doubts about was where he stood now.
As much as it pained him to admit it, even in the privacy of his own mind, Mal’ik had greater concerns than Oliver and his relationship with his father. As much as he wished he could step in, hold Oliver in his arms and tell him that he would get him through anything, he couldn’t. Even if Oliver wanted him to.
Oliver was concerned about a business deal falling through and being on the receiving end of his terrible father’s contempt.
Mal’ik was concerned about how many innocent Southern Tava civilians would get caught in the crossfire when the Klah’Eel retaliated against the Resistance.
For a few beautiful days, he and Oliver had occupied the same world, but that was over now.
“Mal’ik?”
Mal’ik pulled himself from his thoughts to see Oliver looking at him, hazel eyes wide and pained.
The data tablet in Mal’ik’s hand vibrated, and he looked down at it to see a message from Patrick. “Your bodyguard is on his way to pick you up.”
Oliver jerked back. “My bodyg—oh. Garin?”
“Yes.”
Whatever Oliver saw in Mal’ik’s face made him turn away. “Right. Yes. He’s probably falling over himself to sweep me out of here.”
“As he should.” Because Oliver didn’t belong here, not really. He was here for a business meeting, and he was put in danger, and now he would fly far away to somewhere safe and clean and never think of it all again except in cloying, unpleasant memories. And Mal’ik would stay.
He had always known there was no space for him in Oliver’s life, but now he realized there was no space for Oliver in his. And that realization made it hard to breathe, but that didn’t make it any less true. Mal’ik had people who needed him, and they needed him more than Oliver did.
That didn’t mean he didn’t yearn for a life with Oliver by his side. And it didn’t mean he didn’t care for him with an overwhelming amount of his heart, maybe all of it. He didn’t resent Oliver for being far apart from the messy, terrible world that Mal’ik was in. He hoped Oliver would find happiness. The perfect man deserved it.
Mal’ik set the tablet aside and cupped Oliver’s face. He stroked his thumb over Oliver’s cheek.
“Mal’ik?” Oliver looked up at him with guarded eyes.
Mal’ik inhaled and tried to memorize that special sunshine and linen smell and the feel of Oliver’s soft skin under his palm. Then he dropped his hand down to his side. “Garin will be here soon. You should put your clothes back on.”
Chapter Seven
Oliver sat in the transport ship across from Garin, feeling sick to his stomach.
There were so many things wrong that his mind couldn’t find anything to settle on that didn’t make him want to curl up in the center of the floor and vomit.
“Oliver.” Garin set a hand on Oliver’s shoulder, and Oliver jerked back at the feel of it on his shirt.
There was one of the things that was wrong: his dirty, sweaty, bloody clothes scratching against his skin. His skin that had been so nice and clean.
Garin pulled his hand back and lifted it in apology. “Just checking you’re alright. We can put off meeting your father if we have to.”
There was another thing that was wrong. They were on their way to his father’s ship, which had sped to Tava faster than the standard two days it should have taken. That meant his father would have had to put up with more Gs than he liked, which meant he would be in a terrible mood.
