His Fire Maiden - Michelle M. Pillow Page 0,8
one who needed to be saved from impossible odds. Evan’s vision was the reason he was alive. Dev would do anything for his friend.
As they waited for Evan and Josselyn, Dev was well aware of the stares he received from the humanoids living beneath the sands of Rifflen. Their looks of fascination warred with terror. It was nothing new. The terror would win. When it came to him, the terror almost always won.
“Where are they, Dev? That alarm can’t be a good sign.” Jackson whispered under his breath. The man took a small step down the metal docking plank as if he was debating going after Evan in a premature rescue. The ship vibrated as the engines warmed. “I don’t like this place. Who buries a city under the sand?”
Dev didn’t answer. Jackson wouldn’t expect one. The fact that they were on a Federation base didn’t help. Pirates and military didn’t socialize well.
Evan would contact them if he needed assistance. Besides, with Evan’s psychic ability to sense the ever-changing future, he should have been able to tell them if they expected big trouble.
Dev heard a child gasp and glanced to where a hairy beast of a half-humanoid kid pointed up at him. It never made sense why people feared the red demon alien, but not the hairy ones, or the blue ones, or the slimy ones. Though, the way the Bevlon’s acted, it wasn’t surprising. His father’s people loved their evil reputation. Without giving away that he saw the kid’s rude gestures, Dev turned his attention back to the metal entrance where Evan should emerge.
“Where is he?” Jackson repeated, his hands twitching.
“Hold,” Dev ordered calmly. He watched as the soldiers mingled amongst the civilians to see if they acted suspiciously. Only a few guards had responded to the alarm. The others held their place. Dev crossed his arms, silently daring them to attempt to breach the ship. None of them tried.
Inside the base, the air was stale, tainted by the gut-churning smell of roasting meats. The artificial sun lights gave a low hum. In the docking area the ceilings were high, but from what he could tell, the military base was shaped like a squashed sphere, tapering in height the closer one walked toward the outer edges. The high center point was where they entered, through a tall column that would expand out of the sands to let ships come and go. Overhead a combination of steel beams and windows did little to give the feeling of space. He wondered why they bothered with windows at all. The sand moving past the large panes made it feel like being buried alive. Below, workers aimed lasers at welded bolts, tediously reinforcing them one by one to protect the compound from sand erosion. They were quite the marksmen.
“About bloody time,” Jackson swore, shaking Dev from his thoughts.
Dev followed his friend’s gaze to the far side of the docks. Evan carried Josselyn, his arms strained as he rushed toward the ship. The base guards eyed Evan as he passed. Their hostility became palpable, thickening the air.
Dev instantly moved down to the bottom of the plank to make sure no one went for a gun or tried to stop their departure. He knew Josselyn had come to Rifflen seeking revenge and had most likely found it. What he didn’t understand was why the base’s officials were letting them fly out of there unharmed. But then who was he to question a bit of good fortune?
“Jackson,” Evan called, stumbling. Jackson rushed down the plank and across the docking area to help Evan carry Josselyn on board.
Dev’s eyes swept from soldier to soldier, calculating the risk. He listened to the sound of his friends’ footsteps. Suddenly, everything seemed to stop.
A woman emerged on the far side of the docks following Evan, arms crossed, green eyes hard. Curly brown hair danced around her chin as she moved. The soft locks were at odds with her fierce demeanor. The slender tailoring of her outfit, tight brown pants, and matching deep cut top, accented her tall figure. He found himself studying the curve of her hip and the long line of her legs. Her lips were pressed together in irritation, but they were full and red—the kind of lips that could command men with harsh orders or soft kisses. Dev wasn’t sure which would be more effective a method, but he knew which he would prefer.
She neared the docking plank, shouldering past a few members of the crowd to