Zara’s third person POV

  Zara stood there, fists clenched, still reeling from what had just happened. The ship’s ramp had sealed shut in her face, leaving her outside, fuming, heart hammering in her chest.

  She let out a breath through her teeth. That smug, arrogant bastard.

  "Good girl."

  Her nails dug into her palm. She was going to kill him. Or at least try.

  Then she heard a slow, deliberate clap.

  Zara turned sharply, already pissed off, and found herself staring at a woman lounging against a nearby crate.

  Tall. Confident. Dangerous.

  Horns. Tail. Gold eyes full of amusement.

  Zara had never seen a demon before, but she knew one when she saw one.

  The enferian smiled, sharp and lazy, arms folded, tail flicking behind her. “Mon dieu, zat was… magnifique. Really, I should ‘ave brought popcorn.”

  Zara narrowed her eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

  The enferian’s smile widened. Too entertained. Too smug.

  “Nyx.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. “And you, chérie, must be Zara.”

  Zara stiffened. How the hell did she know that?

  Nyx pushed off the crate, approaching like she had all the time in the world, hips swaying, movements too fluid, too confident. She tilted her head, looking Zara up and down in a way that felt both assessing and vaguely insulting.

  “Ah… yes, yes, I see it now.” Nyx tapped a clawed finger against her chin, pretending to think. “Ze attitude. Ze tension. Ze burning desire to punch Tim in ze face.”

  She snapped her fingers, grinning.

  “You must be ‘is new problem.”

  Zara’s eye twitched.

  “Excuse me?”

  Nyx sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “He picks zem so well. I swear, I cannot take ‘im anywhere without ‘im collecting dangerous women.”

  Zara was one second away from throwing hands.

  “Look, lady, I don’t know what your deal is, but I don’t take kindly to people messing with me.”

  Nyx laughed. A soft, throaty, amused laugh like Zara had just told the best joke in the galaxy.

  “Oh, chérie,” Nyx purred, leaning in just slightly. “Zat makes two of us.”

  Zara set her jaw, glaring. “You working for him?”

  Nyx grinned like the question was hilarious.

  “Non.” She shrugged. “I am… ‘ow you say… ze devoted, unshakable, irreplaceable light of ‘is life.”

  Zara stared at her.

  “What.”

  Nyx sighed wistfully. “Oui, oui, eet’s true. But alas, mon cher is very dense.” She made a tragic gesture toward the ship. “Zis is my burden to bear.”

  Zara rubbed her temples.

  This was a joke. This whole damn station was cursed.

  She let out a slow breath. “You know what? I’m not dealing with this right now.” She turned, already walking away.

  “Ah, but Zara,” Nyx called after her, amusement laced in every syllable.

  Zara stopped. Why? She had no idea.

  Nyx’s voice dropped to something lower, almost thoughtful. “Zat rage of yours… eet will eat you alive if you let it.”

  Zara clenched her teeth.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  Zara had every intention of walking away. Ignoring this entire mess.

  But instead, she found herself standing at the edge of the Valkyrion’s hull, watching as Nyx started working on the ship like she owned it.

  “Oi,” Zara muttered. “What the hell are you even doing?”

  Nyx glanced up, gold eyes gleaming in the dim station light, a wrench twirling effortlessly between her fingers. “Fixing mon cher’s ship. What does eet look like?”

  Zara folded her arms. “This thing flies just fine, just needed to refuel.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Nyx clicked her tongue, hopping onto the open maintenance panel with cat-like grace. “Pffft. And zat is why you are a backwater mercenary and not an engineer.” She yanked a burnt-out coupling from its socket, wincing at the fried mess of wiring beneath it. “Mon dieu… look at zis! C’est terrible. No wonder ze Valkyrion limps like an old man.”

  She turned, pointing the wrench at Zara like a schoolteacher scolding a delinquent. “You. Fetch me a plasma torch.”

  Zara blinked. “You think I work for you?”

  Nyx grinned. “No, but you are standing around looking pretty with nozing to do. So~” She waved her hand dismissively. “Be a dear and grab eet from zat crate, hm?”

  Zara gritted her teeth and against her better judgment, she found herself grabbing the damn tool and tossing it over.

  Nyx caught it effortlessly, shooting her a wink.

  Zara scowled. Why did everything about this woman piss her off?

  For a while, Zara just watched, arms crossed, suspicious.

  Nyx worked silently, tail flicking behind her, balancing perfectly even when she was half-dangling from the open panel. She hummed softly to herself, some tune Zara didn’t recognize.

  Zara narrowed her eyes. “You’re a demon, right?”

  Nyx froze. Then, slow as ever, she turned her head with an expression of pure amusement.

  “Ah?”

  Zara shrugged. “You got horns. A tail. And that whole ‘I’m gonna eat your soul’ aura.”

  Nyx laughed. Like Zara had just said the funniest thing in the galaxy.

  “Ah, chérie, zat is adorable.” She tapped her chin, grinning. “Non, non, I am an Enferian. Not a demon. But I understand ze confusion.”

  Zara frowned. “Same thing.”

  Nyx gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest. “Quelle horreur! You wound me.”

  “Cry about it,” Zara muttered.

  Nyx smirked, going back to twisting a bolt into place. “Enferians are… mm, how you say… ‘ze lucky ones.’ Stronger zan humans, faster, more durable~” she grinned, fangs flashing. “And, of course, devastatingly charming.”

  Zara scoffed. Yeah. Sure.

  Nyx continued, casually rewiring some circuit boards. “Our homeworld, L'Enfer, is a world of fire and storms. Ze gravity is intense. Ze air is thick. We thrive where others would choke and die.”

  She smirked, tossing Zara a sidelong glance. “And zat makes us very good at what we do.”

  Zara didn’t like the way she said that.

  “And what exactly is it that you do?” she asked.

  Nyx’s grin widened. “Oh, mon cher, zat is a long list.”

  Zara’s eye twitched.

  It took Zara a second to realize something.

  “Wait,” she muttered. “Where the hell are you getting these replacement parts?”

  Nyx hummed. “Oh, here and zere.”

  Zara frowned. “The hell does that mean?”

  Nyx gestured vaguely to the other docking bays, where ships were parked side by side, crew members wandering off, completely unaware.

  Zara’s stomach dropped.

  “Oh, you are stealing.”

  Nyx’s smile was all teeth.

  “Non, non, mon chérie,” she purred. “I am borrowing. With no intent of returning.”

  Zara stared.

  “You—”

  Nyx plucked a fresh cooling rod from her bag, tossing it effortlessly to the side, where it landed in a pile of very obviously stolen ship components.

  Zara dragged a hand down her face.

  “You’re insane.”

  Nyx winked. “Insanely efficient.”

  Zara shook her head. “Tim know you do this?”

  Nyx’s tail flicked. “Oh, he knows.” She smirked. “He does not ask questions.”

  Zara let out a dry laugh, half exasperated. “Of course he doesn’t.”

  She didn’t know what was more infuriating, Nyx’s absolute confidence, or the fact that she was actually making the ship better.

  It didn’t make sense.

  Why was she so devoted to him?

  Nyx had skills. She could clearly take care of herself.

  So why follow Tim of all people?

  After a long silence, Zara muttered, “Why do you follow him?”

  Nyx paused.

  For a moment, her usual playfulness dulled, her hands stilling over the open panel.

  Then she glanced over her shoulder, gold eyes flickering in the station’s dim glow.

  “Because he saved me,” she said simply.

  Zara blinked.

  And before she could push, before she could ask what that meant.

  Nyx grinned again, sharp and teasing. “And also because ‘e is very, very pretty.”

  Zara groaned.

  “Forget I asked.”

  Nyx just laughed, and began to dig through a crate of stolen parts with a little too much enthusiasm. Her tail flicked lazily, her expression annoyingly smug.

  “You always talk like that?”

  Nyx didn’t even look up. “Like what?”

  “Like you’re some overdramatic courtesan from an old holo-drama.”

  Nyx finally turned, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Ah. You mean my charming accent?” She leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Does eet... distract you, ma chérie?”

  Zara scowled. “No, it makes you sound like a pompous asshole.”

  Nyx burst out laughing. “Oh, mon dieu. You are delightful.”

  Zara just glared. “Seriously, though. I doubt all Enferians sound like that.”

  Nyx’s smirk softened just a little. “Zat’s because not all Enferians were raised like I was.”

  Zara caught the shift in tone. “What do you mean?”

  Nyx shrugged, not looking up from her work. “My people were… how do you say? Acquired.” She smirked, torquing a bolt into place. “Centuries ago, a Terran vessel arrived. Not your lovely, democratic, ever-so-benevolent Republic. Non, these ones had sharper teeth. Légion Céleste. Imperialists.”

  Zara narrowed her eyes. “Imperialists?”

  Nyx glanced at her, eyes glinting with amusement. “Ze kind who looked at a world and thought, ‘Ah, oui. Zis belongs to us now.’” She gestured to herself. “So, they renamed L’Enfer to Tartarus, made my ancestors speak Terran Standard... but with their accent.”

  Zara crossed her arms. “So you hate Terrans?”

  Nyx tilted her head, considering the question like it was a joke only she understood. “Some Enferians do. Some spit at ze thought of calling a Terran an ally.” She flashed a pointed smile, razor-edged and unreadable. “I do not.”

  “Why?”

  Nyx’s tail flicked. “Because hate is boring.”

  Zara snorted. “That’s it?”

  Nyx grinned wider. “Oh, and because I am in love with one.”

  Zara let out a sharp breath. “You’re insane.”

  Nyx only smiled, tail flicking as she dug into another crate. A sharp whistle cut through the air.

  A small figure darted from the shadows, slipping up beside Nyx so fast Zara barely registered him. A kid, couldn’t be older than nine, with sharp eyes and a mop of tangled, oil-streaked hair. He held up a rusted power cell like it was a damn trophy.

  Nyx crouched, examining it like a jeweler appraising a fine gem. “Hmm… not bad, mon petit.” She ruffled his hair, making him beam. “I’ll take it.”

  The kid nodded, holding out a grimy hand.

  Nyx reached into her belt pouch, fished out something shiny, and flipped it to him. The boy caught it mid-air, examined it, then gave her a sly grin before bolting back into the maze of crates and scaffolding.

  Zara watched the whole exchange, brow furrowing. “What the hell was that?”

  Nyx didn’t look up. “A trade.”

  “For what?”

  Another tiny figure scurried up, this one a wiry girl, maybe twelve, gripping a coil of insulated wiring like it was treasure.

  Nyx took it with a pleased hum. “Merci, chérie.”

  The girl muttered something in a language Zara didn’t recognize, then snatched a ration bar from Nyx’s pouch and scampered off.

  Zara turned, watching as more of them appeared, little silhouettes darting through the hangar like phantoms, each one dropping off some stolen ship part, snatching up whatever payment Nyx gave them, and vanishing just as quickly.

  She crossed her arms. “You’ve got an army of thieves running parts for you?”

  Nyx grinned, setting a fusion regulator aside. “Thieves? Non. Zey are entrepreneurs.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Besides,” Nyx added, glancing at Zara with a smirk. “If I steal from someone, I do it myself.”

  “You and Timus. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

  Nyx winked, tossing a spanner her way. “Ah, but zat is what makes life interesting, non?”