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The other members of Squad M rotated in and out of the fun. Patrick and Fal’ran were both too politically savvy to forgo the opportunity to network, but they participated in the cheese-platter sampling. Tar got roped into olfactory testing of different drinks, but he was too obviously pleased with his restored sense of smell to mind. Bar’in went where Tar went and despite the frequent looks he shot Garin during their antics, he still seemed to enjoy himself.
Garin didn’t want it to end.
He knew it had to. Sazahk had said as much as they lay in Garin’s hospital bed together. But…Garin couldn’t quite swallow it.
He felt alive with Sazahk. Whole. Excited about everything in a way he’d never been before, swept off his feet by Sazahk’s infectious enthusiasm. But that wasn’t the worst part.
Garin’s feelings made leaving agonizing enough, but he suspected his own feelings weren’t the only ones at play. Sazahk felt something for him. He was sure of it. He saw it in the way Sazahk looked at him, grinning triumphantly at some new fact he’d learned, and the way he touched and brushed against him.
The worst part about leaving was that Garin was certain that if he stayed…they could have something.
But he wasn’t staying. He couldn’t. And so they couldn’t have anything.
Sazahk hadn’t ruled out a long-distance, long-term relationship, but he didn’t have to. Garin wouldn’t do that to him. He wouldn’t trap him in that. Sazahk had endured being trapped by the selfishness of others enough.
So Garin wouldn’t ask Sazahk to be with him, but he would, if they found some damn privacy, make sure the man knew just how badly he wished he could.
“I’m afraid I have to break up this…” Emissary Serihk approached and raised an eyebrow at Sazahk combining a crystal glass of green liquid with one of purple. “Experiment. Sazahk, may I speak with you?”
From what Garin had gathered, Sazahk’s relationship with his brother had improved in the days since Garin and Dom’s dramatic rescue. Which explained why Sazahk merely sighed and passed his concoction off to Tar, instead of biting his brother’s head off. “In private, I assume?”
“I would prefer that, yes.” Serihk stepped back and nodded toward a secluded corner. “It won’t be long.”
Sazahk shot Garin a pouting look that made Garin chuckle, and he motioned for Sazahk to follow his brother. Sazahk did so with another sigh, snagging his piled-up plate of eclectic nibbles, and Garin shook his head as he watched them retreat into a corner. Serihk’s robes swished imperiously in a way Sazahk’s just didn’t, as though even their clothes understood their differences.
“I don’t get you.” Bar’in’s sharp voice yanked Garin away from his sartorial musings.
“Excuse me?” Garin turned around to zero in on Bar’in. He wasn’t interested in a fight, but he did want to know what exactly Bar’in’s problem with him was.
“Why are you doing this to him?” Bar’in hissed, shoving his flute of Human-style champagne away as he leaned in.
“Doing what to him?” Garin recoiled, startled by the venom and accusation in Bar’in’s voice, even though he’d known the conversation had taken a nasty turn.
“Jerking him around like this.” Bar’in bared his teeth and stepped closer, reminding Garin that while Bar’in was small for his species, he was still a klah’eel, which made him bigger than Garin. “I mean, who does that to someone like him? He doesn’t deserve that. If you don’t want to be with him, then don’t be with him.”
“But I do want to be with him,” Garin blurted out, more afraid of that misunderstanding than of the alien bearing down on him. “Of course I want to be with him. He?—”
“Just isn’t worth the pay cut?” Bar’in raised his eyebrows. Tar, far less threatening despite his size, placed a hand on his shoulder, but Bar’in threw him off. “Isn’t worth the move? Isn’t worth the step down in prestige from guarding a Turner?”
“He’s worth all of those things.” Garin shook his head, on the back foot, but too baffled to be defensive. Sazahk was more than worth all of those things, and Bar’in knew that, and he had to know Garin knew that. “Of course he is, but I don’t—I can’t—That’s not the choice I have.”
“Isn’t it though?” Bar’in’s lip curled in disgust, and Garin’s frustration broke through.
He balled his fists and struggled to keep his voice down, but the raw spots Bar’in poked hurt and leaving Sazahk hurt enough already. “No, it’s very much not. I can’t just leave my job. I have a family to support.”
“So, you won’t even consider his offer, but you’ll drag his heart around on a string while you’re here.” Bar’in leaned in close enough for Garin to feel the heat of his breath, light glinting off the points of his tusks.
Garin wasn’t fucking dragging Sazahk’s heart around anywhere. He’d agonized over whether to ask Sazahk to be with him and he’d taken the blow and decided not to, even though it killed him, because he cared. He was considerate and conscientious, and he still had no idea what the fuck Bar’in’s problem was. “What the hell are you talking about, Bar’in? What offer?”
“What—”
“Bar’in.” Tar grabbed Bar’in’s shoulder and pulled him back again. When Bar’in glared at him, Tar flared his nostrils in a deep, pointed inhale.
Bar’in frowned and sniffed at Garin. Then his expression slackened, and he paled. “Oh.”
“What?” Garin’s stomach curdled, his anger giving way to a slow horror. He looked between Tar and Bar’in. “What?”
Bar’in exchanged glances with Tar before replying slowly. “He didn’t tell you. Did he?”
