off the wall where she had been leaning, smoking a cig.
“I’m satisfied.” His eyes slid to the sexbot, who retained Alexa’s features. Her black hair, her pale skin. But the eyes were wrong, and the shape of the sexbot’s face. Everything was off. Her scent, her straight nose, even her height. He flicked his eyes back to the brothel’s owner.
“Very good. We like it when our patrons achieve satisfaction, especially well-paying patrons such as yourself.” She ran her hand down his arm.
He grabbed her hand. “Don’t.”
The headmistress smiled. “You still have your appointment.” She stepped back to indicate the sexbot, tugging her hand free. “If you’re in the mood.”
All he was in the mood for now was to get off of fucking Libra and back into space, far, far away from the trouble lying in the room behind him. Killing Raul would make his life easier, but Raul had done nothing personally to Hysterian besides touching what was his. He’d killed Daniels already. His quota for this trip was done. And he still had the body to dispose of. Killing Raul would start a precedent Hysterian wanted to avoid.
He’d left Raphael and Elyria to start a new life, a better one, one he could be proud of having. He wasn’t going to have that life with a wake of corpses floating behind him.
Nightheart could deny him the cure if that happened. If Hysterian fucked up as badly as some other Cyborgs working for his new boss had in the past, Nightheart would lose his shit. It wasn’t worth the risk.
“I’m not,” he told the woman. “But the man in the room behind me will need a place to recover. He’ll need to be taken care of. Do that for me, will you?”
“I think we can manage that.” The headmistress smiled again. She turned to the sexbot. “He’s yours, love. Make him happy, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The sexbot moved to enter the room.
Hysterian grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Turn back into a blond and stay that way. Are we clear?”
The sexbot nodded, changing the color of her hair and skin back to the way they were earlier. He released her, and she fled into the room. Hysterian nodded at the headmistress and exited the brothel, far more satisfied than he ever planned on being, leaving it.
He stretched his fingers before curling them into his palms. The noise of the port flooded his audio.
He hadn’t felt this good in months.
His head was clear. He may not have fucked, but Raul was gone and Alexa was all his now. Hysterian didn’t have to worry about what was happening when he was busy. Raul was going to pay for touching what Hysterian wanted most.
He had no qualms with the rest of his crew. They were good workers who stayed in line, obeyed orders, and didn’t ask probing questions. They were all a captain could ask for.
Hysterian cracked his neck and made his way through the seedier parts of the port, back toward the shops.
A weight lifted off his chest as his distance from Raul increased.
Hysterian scanned the rusty, piped ceiling, wondering how high it was—at least two stories—and how much force he’d need to be able to jump and reach it. The frog in him was eager, excited. Sprightly. Moments like these, when he didn’t hate the universe and everything in it, were rare.
Hysterian cleared his throat and continued.
A textile shop caught his attention. He’d asked Horace to find out if there were any shipments of nanocloth on or coming to Libra while they were docked, and Horace hadn’t gotten back to him yet. Hysterian shifted course and made his way to the store.
He had extra time on his hands.
He wasn’t needed back on the Questor anytime soon.
And if the shop had what he was looking for…
His lips twitched under his suit. The day would end on an even better night.
Fifteen
Alexa fingered the soft material of the dress. It slipped across her hand like flowing water. She didn’t have anything like it in her wardrobe—she’d never owned anything so nice, let alone own a dress at all. She had no need for one growing up, and so never had a reason to own one.
She didn’t need one now either. Maybe later, maybe someday.
Alexa dropped her hand and she moved onto the next store where activewear and standard-issue space uniforms were being sold. She needed new clothes, but not a dress, and especially not the silky green one in the last shop.
Making her way toward the discounted