Species Traitor: A Science Fiction Dystopian Novel by Kate Mary (universal ebook reader .TXT) 📗

It reminded me of those boys in elementary school who’d refused to sit close to a girl because they were afraid they’d catch cooties—of the Veilorian variety, of course, because that was way more insulting than human cooties.

Rye took a seat beside his cousin, elbowing him but saying nothing, while Ione slipped onto the stool between her husband and me.

“Now it’s a party.”

She was grinning, totally oblivious to Finn’s scowl. As usual, nothing bothered her. Hopefully, any children she had with Rye inherited her easygoing attitude, because if current events said anything about the direction the world was heading in, they were going to need it.

We chatted. It should have been awkward, especially with Finn sitting on the other side of Rye and staring into his glass like he wanted nothing more than to drown in it, but it wasn’t. Mostly thanks to my cousin’s cheery personality. At first Johnson—Dean—was a little standoffish with Rye, but after a couple drinks he managed to loosen up and things felt more relaxed. Or maybe that was the rum.

As we talked, the wind began to howl, signaling we were about to get one of the flash sandstorms so common these days. The bar began to empty out as the patrons rushed to make it home, and the bartender got busy securing the few windows in the building. Already the walls were beginning to rattle, but it would only get worse before it got better.

“Sounds like a big one,” Dean said, looking at the ceiling like he would be able to see through it to the storm barreling toward us.

“You want to go?” my cousin asked, her gaze flicking between Dean and me.

The three Veilorians probably had time to get home before the weather hit, but Dean and I would have to make it through the District and out the gate, then across the city. It would be a long shot, and I knew it, and the last thing I wanted was to get caught in a storm. It had happened before, and I’d ended up having to take cover inside a musty secondhand store with a couple dozen other people. It had been miserable.

“Nope,” I said, lifting my glass.

Dean grinned and clinked his against mine, signaling he was just as comfortable waiting it out as I was.

“How about we move this party to a table?” Rye asked, nodding behind him to the now empty dining area.

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed.

I wobbled a bit when I slid off the barstool, and Dean reached out to catch me before I fell on my ass.

“Easy,” he said, chuckling.

His hand stayed on my arm longer than necessary, but after a few too many drinks, I decided I didn’t care.

“My hero.” Even as I said it, I flushed at the stupidity of the statement, but he only laughed.

The walls around us rattled harder, telling me the sandstorm had finally reached the city. They weren’t uncommon and always came at night but were usually over pretty fast. Depending on the severity of the storm, they were sometimes followed by blackouts. Not that it mattered in the District where electricity was spotty anyway.

I was so used to sandstorms by this point in my life that if it wasn’t for my job on the cleaning crew, they would be only a minor inconvenience. The storms always made the job of cleaning off the mirrors twice as hard, though. Meaning tomorrow was going to suck.

Ione was chatting with Dean as we headed to the table. The wind howled through the District, forcing her to raise her voice, but the noise wasn’t loud enough to drown it out when Rye said, “You could try having fun.”

I looked back to find Finn still sitting on his stool, giving his cousin the same cool look he’d pinned me with when we first met. “With humans?”

“With my wife.” For the first time, Rye’s smile had faded.

“And a guard,” Finn shot back. “It’s his job to stand at the gate with a pulse rifle and make sure we don’t leave.”

My throat tightened at the words, and I suddenly saw Dean in a new light. Finn wasn’t wrong. If this was a prison the way he claimed—and I couldn’t really deny the similarities—that meant Dean was a prison guard. Only these people had done nothing wrong.

“He’s protecting us,” Rye countered.

I glanced at Dean to see if he was listening, but he was too busy talking to Ione. They were discussing the latest shipment—the one Rye and Finn had been headed to the day before—while Ione showed him a necklace made of green ceramic beads.

“Rye found it and gave to me. Isn’t he the sweetest?” she gushed.

“It brings out the green in your eyes,” Dean said.

I didn’t miss that he avoided saying anything positive about Rye.

By the time I’d refocused my attention on the bar, Rye was headed our way with Finn trailing behind him. He had a fresh glass of rum in his hand, and his eyes were focused on me. His scowl reminded me of one of the mutated creatures from the wastelands as it stalked its prey.

I took a seat beside Dean and when Finn slipped into the chair on my other side, I found myself in the uncomfortable position of being sandwiched between the two men. The alcohol was working its magic, making it impossible to control my body or make reasonable decisions, and when Dean put his hand on my knee, I wasn’t sure what to do. Even worse, when Finn narrowed his eyes on the other man’s hand, my insides warmed. Too bad I didn’t know what the heat was from.

I reached for my glass, but before I’d had a chance to wrap my fingers around it, Finn swiped it away.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

His voice was low but commanding, and without thinking I nodded.

“Yeah.” My tongue felt thick in my mouth, forcing me to swallow.

“You always have to be the responsible one,” Ione said, laughing.

“Someone has