Forged (Star Breed #10) - Elin Wyn Page 0,3

“You’re always telling me the company wins anyway, so why work so hard?”

He didn’t look convinced, but I didn’t really care.

Halfway to the hub, I stopped the turbo lift and glanced down at my coarse gray coveralls.

Standard wear for the station, all from the fab labs.

I hadn’t thought about bothering with anything nicer since getting here.

But maybe it was time to be a little more strategic.

“Capsule level D4,” I commanded the lift, bracing for the tiny lurches as it shifted direction, away from the hub and towards the personnel levels, such as they were.

After the door slid open on my level, I went to the communal replicator, then stopped cold, lost in the options.

I’d been away from high society for far too long, and had barely been interested even before everything in my life turned upside down.

But I still would bet from the way Alcyon was happy to take time out of his schedule to escort the newcomer around the station, he was someone important.

And ‘important’ meant money. Always did.

I flipped through the clothing options, wincing at the prices.

Like everything else here, I’d pay for it in hours deducted from my total.

But it couldn’t be helped.

I flipped past screen after screen of short, shimmery dresses.

Not my thing. Besides, the giant, Mr. Hakon someone-or-other, would have seen plenty of skin before.

And to be honest, mine wasn’t anything special.

The next set of screens showed more dresses, but this time with bows and ribbons and poofs.

If that was his style, I was out of luck.

’Cause I sure wasn’t wearing any of it.

Not even for a handsome man like that.

Ooh.

That would do.

I pressed my thumb to the pad to finalize the transaction and in minutes, I gathered my new outfit to my chest, climbed the short ladder to my capsule one-handed, and crawled in.

A yard and half square and two yards deep, the shelf bed ran down the length of the wall, with storage beneath.

Not exactly the most comfortable of homes, but it was expected you pretty much would be working or in the hub. The capsules were just for sleeping, or maybe watching a vid. Nothing else.

Quickly, I unbraided my hair, smoothing it back and banding it, then wiggled into the long black pants. The silky, flowing fabric was strangely soft against my legs after months of the rough, coarse coveralls.

The sapphire blue top wrapped in the front, making a v-neck, not too low, just enough to be suggestive, and belted with a wide black sash. Best of all, the draping sleeves had just enough of a fold to make a perfect tiny pocket.

Once upon a time, I might have outlined my eyes in gold shimmer, put more gold on my lips.

But there were only so many hours I was willing to burn on this little project.

Grabbing the last item from my nearly empty storage bin, I hurried back down the ladder.

Back in the turbo lift, I braced myself.

The noise and clutter of the hub grated on both my ears and my nerves.

Always had.

But if that’s where Alcyon had taken the stranger, that’s where I needed to go.

Stepping out of the lift, I surveyed the crowded space. Even in the dim light, surely the giant would be easy to find. He’d stand head and shoulders over everyone here.

But I didn’t see him. Not by the tables clustered around the arches of greenery, not by the units dispensing whatever kind of relaxer you had a taste for.

Maybe they’d moved on to the games.

It seemed unlikely Hakon would want a tour of the private booths… and if so, I was out of luck.

Heading deeper into the swarm of people, my stomach growled at the enticing smells.

I didn’t spend much time here. The replicator on the capsule floor was programmed for basic dishes. They were cheaper, and nobody expected you to be social.

But they certainly weren’t good, by any definition.

Suddenly, a meaty hand grabbed my left upper arm. I spun, pulling away from the balding, beady-eyed man blocking my way.

“Hey, pretty lady, haven’t seen you here before,” he said, leering at my cleavage. “New to the station? I’d be happy to give you a personal tour.”

The gods of irony were apparently making an appearance tonight.

“She’s not new, Urtu,” a woman’s nasal laugh cut through the air.

Maybe irony wasn’t the right word. Petty annoyance?

Irritation?

Could I make a sacrifice of someone to them?

“Hello, Grilla,” I smiled, making an effort for it not to be a mere baring of the teeth. “How are you doing tonight?”

The blonde rolled her