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“But you were new to Kurril. You did not know the dangers.” Before he could remind her that she had ignored the dangers by running out into the night, Myrria held up a hand. “Despite tonight’s evidence to the contrary, I do know this city and how to evade its danger.”
“I am too much of a burden,” he argued. “I cannot take food from your table when you barely have enough for yourself. I must leave and find a way to summon my ship.”
Myrria shook her head, frustrated by the Dothvek’s stubbornness but touched by his selflessness. “You have already saved my life once. Having a male protector for me and my daughter is something I have not had for a very long time.”
“You do not owe me for saving you,” Rixx’s voice was husky, as he held her gaze with molten eyes. “I am only sorry I did not get there soon enough to stop that vile creature from touching you at all.”
Myrria wanted to ask how he’d known she was in trouble and how he had gotten to her so quickly, but another part of herwasn’t sure of she wanted to know the answer. The Dothveks were a curious species who appeared to have abilities that humans did not.
“You stopped him,” Myrria whispered, her throat tight. “That is all that matters.”
The air between them bristled as Rixx locked eyes with her. Then Myrria snatched her gaze away. “How are you at fixing things?”
He blinked at her in clear confusion by the abrupt change of subject, but before he could answer, a sound came from the loft above.
Chapter
Fourteen
Rixx eyed the broken hinge. He had not grown up working with metal, but his time on the bounty hunter ship had taught him how to work with substances not common on his home world. He had been assigned to work with Holly in engineering, which meant that he had learned firsthand how brilliant females could be and how much could be accomplished using steel and iron. The hinge on the closet door was no engine, but the concept for fixing it was not so different from repairing elements of the complicated machinery that powered the sky ship.
“Will this help?” Zala thunked a heavy box at his feet, the metal sides dented and speckled with rust. “It’s my father’s tools. I think Mama forgot we had it.”
It was clear to Rixx that Myrria had enough to worry about without fixing the various things in her home that had broken. He crouched beside the box and flipped open the creaky top, then he grinned at Zala. “It will help.”
The little girl grinned. If she remembered mumbling in her sleep in the middle of the night, she didn’t let on. Even though it hadstartled him and Myrria, it had been a good thing that she’d made a noise and reminded them that she was upstairs. Myrria had taken the opportunity to wish him a good night and dart up the ladder to the loft, leaving him to toss and turn before finally falling asleep.
In the light of day, the danger of the previous night did not seem so ominous, the fear he’d felt was not remembered so sharply. He could brush aside the feel of Myrria’s trembling body as he’d hurried her home. He could forget the rank breath of the repugnant man, the stench of his unwashed clothes, the black of his rotting teeth, the thud of his body when it had hit the paving stones.
Rixx pushed away the memories from the night before, even the ones of him standing close to Myrria as his fear had shifted to desire. He picked a long metal tool and stood. “We should finish this before your mother returns.”
“She won’t be back soon. She’s gone to visit the painted ladies and take them new dresses. That always takes a while because they try them on, and she makes adjustments there.”
Rixx nodded even though he did not fully understand. “You have gone with her to visit these colorful females?”
Zala giggled. “Sometimes, but they aren’t colorful. Well, not really. Mama calls them painted ladies because of how they paint their faces to look pretty.” She lowered her voice. “I don’t think she knows that I know what they do.”
Although Rixx was not scandalized by what he knew the females did to earn their living, his cheeks warmed at discussing it with the girl. He twisted the loose hinge into place and started tightening the screw.
“I know Mama doesn’t think they’re bad,” Zala continued. “She likes them and says they’re good clients. They always pay her fairly. But sometimes they get bruised up, and that makes her mad.”
Rixx scowled at the thought of females being bruised, his mind instantly going back to Myrria struggling with the drunk man in the alley. Once again, he wished he had squeezed the man’s neck for a little longer. “She should get mad.”
Zala nodded solemnly, her gaze going to the hinge that Rixx was tightening. “I think you fixed it.”
Rixx glanced at the screw that he’d tightened so thoroughly that it had started to disappear into the metal plate. He stood back and let his gaze fall to the shelves inside the closet, noticing a dusty machine on the floor. “What is that?”
Zala’s face brightened as if she’d just remembered that it existed. “That’s an old machine that Mama used to use for sewing. It broke, and it was too expensive to fix, so Mama started doing all her sewing by hand.”
Rixx bent low and lifted the machine, sending dust whirling into the air. This machine was far simpler than the contraptions on the sky ship, and Holly had taught him to fix almost all of those. He walked it to the table and set it down, dust motes dancing in the sunlight peeking through the curtains. “I don’t see why we can’t fix this, do you?”
Zala bounced up and down on her toes as she shook her head, caught herself, and then jerked her head up in the Dothvek way.
Rixx’s pulse quickened as he started to inspect the machine, analyzing how it worked just like Holly had taught him. Machines were not so complex once you realized that they allworked off the same basic principles, and this machine for making clothes would not be too hard to fix.
It gave him a great deal of pleasure to think of how happy Myrria would be when she came home to find the machine working. Too much pleasure, he thought as he brushed more dust off the old contraption. He was too content with Myrria and Zala, too comfortable, too happy.
They were not his family, he reminded himself. They belonged to someone else. Even if the man was not here, had not been here for a long time, that did not make Myrria free. She had a mate. It was not possible for her to be what he wanted her to be—his and his alone.
