Star Falling (City of Hope Book 2) Page 2

  “You aren’t allowed without an escort,” he corrected. Stepping in front of her, Valen removed his security badge from his belt and passed it over the scanner. “Hurry, ahna. We don’t want to miss it.”

  The light at the top corner of the scanner flickered from blue to yellow, and the lift doors slid open with a quiet whir. The circular elevator was big enough to hold only two people at a time, maybe three if everyone wanted to get really friendly, and like everything else in Hope, the interior was a startling white.

  Valen swiped his badge over another scanner near the number panel and jabbed the first of seventeen buttons with his thumb. The other lifts in the underground city didn’t even have an option to select a level higher than Level 5 without special access.

  She knew Level 2 and Level 3 housed the guards’ and officers’ quarters. The executive living quarters for the other staff in Hope, including Director Raxcor Wyeth’s personal suite, were located on Level 4. No one ever talked about what resided at the very top of the city, however, and her excitement returned when she realized she’d be the only human—apart from maybe the director’s mate—to know.

  Her pulse sped when the lift slowed and the indicator light for Level 1 illuminated. Curling her fingers against her palms, she held her hands fisted at her sides and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, waiting breathlessly for the doors to slide open.

  When they did, she wasn’t disappointed.

  “Oh, holy cow,” she breathed.

  Instead of a white, barren corridor, the lift opened directly into a cavernous, circular room filled with mazes of buttons, knobs, and blinking lights. Several guards rushed around the room, flipping switches and speaking into microphones, while others sat in curved chairs that hovered two feet off the black-tiled floor, studying what looked like nothing more than blips and dots on holographic monitors.

  “Welcome to Central Command,” Valen said into her mind, the smirk as clear in his tone as it was on his lips.

  “I’m not supposed to be here.” Knowing he’d bent the rules thawed some of the ice around her heart, and she reached out, taking his hand to give it a gentle squeeze. “Why would you bring me here?”

  Several of the guards halted when they noticed her, their brows furrowed, and their mouths set in hard lines. Without leaving her side, Valen spoke to them in the Aleucian language, his tone hard, brooking no argument. When he finished, the guards nodded as one, bowing their heads in respect, then returned to their tasks as if nothing had happened.

  “Everything is okay,” he assured her, giving her a nudge deeper into the circular room.

  Uneasy about the exchange, she hesitated for a moment, but she couldn’t resist the pull for long. “Can I…?”

  “Come.” Still grasping her hand, Valen led her to the floor-to-ceiling, bowed window that stretched halfway around the outer edge of the room. “The sun is setting.”

  “I thought it was morning.”

  “Earth Standard Time,” Valen reminded her. “Everything in the city runs on what used to be Earth’s Central Standard Time.”

  “Oh, right,” she answered distractedly as she moved closer to the window.

  Star had never seen Aleucia, not even in pictures, but she imagined it to be a barren, desolate desert covered in sand and rocks based on what she knew of the temperatures. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Beyond the thick glass, a beautiful, lush oasis stretched out for as far as she could see in every direction.

  Blades of grass in varying shades of orange swayed in the breeze, stretching all the way to the edge of sparkling sand the color of fresh-fallen snow. Flowers in every shade of the rainbow grew on the opposite bank of a crystalline pond, the lavender-colored water shimmering invitingly in the last rays of the setting sun.

  “How is this possible?”

  “Underground lakes and rivers, along with some creative irrigation.”

  “That makes sense, but I meant, how am I able to see it?” Through the window, she could see the haze of the heat that floated over the ground, but when she pressed her hand to the glass, she found it only slightly warm.

  Valen’s lips turned down at the corners, and his golden brows drew together. “I don’t understand the question.”

  No, she supposed she wasn’t making much sense. “Why can no one else see this? Why is the rest of the city underground?”

  “Ah,” he mused aloud with a quiet chuckle. Then, into her mind, “Partly to conserve energy and resources, but mostly for safety reasons. We didn’t want one of your people to wander outside and burn to death.”

  Star liked to think that “her people” had more self-preservation than that, but she also had to admit the view beyond the window was tempting, almost unbearably so. “If anyone ever found out about this, people would riot.”

  “Only a few humans know.” Stepping closer, Valen reached out to take both of her hands into his own. “Star, you can’t tell anyone.”

  “I won’t. I swear.” She didn’t like it, but she understood the need for secrecy. Sliding her hands from his grasp, she balled them against her thighs and took a step back. She couldn’t think straight when he stood so close. “So, the entire city is run from here?”

  “Mostly, yes.” His shoulders relaxed, and he seemed relieved by the change in topic. “This is where we monitor life-support systems, temperature regulation, and resident activity within Hope.”

  Staring down at her feet while she processed the information, Star smiled at the vibrant blue carpet that covered the floor directly under the window. “This is new.” She looked up to find Valen frowning at her, and pointed at the carpet for clarification. “Color.”

  Valen nodded as he choked back the sigh building in his chest. She missed color, and truth be told, so did he. Homes and business on Aleucia weren’t stark and barren like Hope. They were filled with warm, inviting colors in every shade imaginable, and city streets were lined with bouquets of bright flowers and beautiful art.

  Star wouldn’t know it, but being assigned to Hope had been almost as much of an adjustment for the guards as it had been for the humans.

  “The Council believed by limiting everything in the city to one color it would act as an equalizer and prevent disruption.”

  “Well, they were wrong,” Star whispered, still staring down at the carpet with a strange expression on her face. “It just makes everyone miserable. Humans aren’t robots. We need a sense of individuality, a means to express ourselves, even through something as simple as the clothes we wear.”

  The melancholy in her voice made his heart ache, which was a strange and uneasy feeling. His parents lived in one of the major cities on the other side of the planet, and he rarely spoke to them. He had no siblings, no extended family, and he wasn’t used to worrying about anyone except himself and those under his command.

  Wanting to take away her sadness, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I can arrange a meeting with Director Wyeth. If the citizens are as unhappy as you say, perhaps he can persuade the Council to make some changes.”

  “Really? You’d do that?”

  If his heart ached before, the smile Star gave him nearly stopped it beating entirely. “If it would please you, then yes.”

  “Yes,” Star practically shouted, drawing the attention of several nearby guards. “Yes, please,” she repeated in quieter tones. “I’d like that a lot. Thank you.” Pink stained her cheeks as she continued. “I used to be a fashion designer once upon a time. I don’t have any dye, but I could get a few samples together to show him.” Grabbing the hem of her shapeless blouse, she stretched the fabric and wrinkled her nose. “These things really are terrible.”

  Valen understood the words she said, but not their meaning. Using context clues, he surmised she had designed human clothing on her homeworld, and she wasn’t happy with the Council-regulated garments. He really couldn’t blame her.

  “You look beautiful in anything.”

  The corners of her eyes softened, a
nd her lips twitched as if she’d smile, but all she said was, “Charmer.” Then, she clasped her hands together beneath her chin and muttered under her breath as she paced in front of the window. “…remove the sleeves, yes, of course. More fitted…the neck…cinched sides.”

  While he enjoyed listening to her babble, and he found her excitement endearing, she was missing the main reason he’d brought her to Level 1.

  “Star.” He said her name quietly so as not to startle her.

  She paused mid-stride and glanced up at him. “Hmm?”

  “It’s nightfall.”

  “Oh,” she muttered distractedly. “That’s good.”

  Valen chuckled. “Star, look out the window.”

  “Huh?” Looking up from her contemplation of the carpet, Star froze as she stared through the glass with wide eyes. “Oh, wow.” Slowly, she lifted her fingers to her lips, just as they stretched into a gentle smile filled with wonderment. “Oh, just…wow.”

  Moving to stand behind her, Valen wound his arms around her narrow waist, pulling the female back against his chest and resting his chin atop her head. She didn’t struggle or fight him for once. On the contrary, she relaxed into him, sighing happily as they watched the last vestiges of daylight fade from the sky.

  “The stars,” she whispered with a feminine giggle. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Not nearly as beautiful as you.”

  Star didn’t answer right away, and when she did speak, her tone was warm, soft, and lacking its usual edge.

  “This is amazing, Valen,” she whispered, her usual defensive guards completely removed. “Thank you so much for bringing me here.”

  In that moment, with the heat of her body pressed against him, he knew there wasn’t anything in his world or any other that he wouldn’t do for her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Star was in a mood.

  After the sweet way Valen had held her, the lovely things he’d said to her, she’d begun to let herself believe that maybe he really did care about her. She’d awoken the next morning with renewed excitement, eager to see him, but he hadn’t come to her pod like he had every other morning for the past several months. In fact, she hadn’t seen him all week, not at her pod, not in the corridors. He hadn’t sought her out, or asked her endless questions about Earth. He’d just been gone, and his absence had hurt.

  Maybe he’d finally realized that she wasn’t worth all the trouble. Maybe if she hadn’t been such a bitch to him, constantly pushing him away, he wouldn’t be avoiding her. Maybe he’d given up and moved on to someone else, a woman more than willing to show him even a modicum of interest and affection.

  It wasn’t as if there was a shortage of women vying for his attention.

  “Maybe if wishes were horses, beggars would ride,” she mumbled aloud to no one in particular.

  The only consolation was the email she’d received earlier that morning, informing her that she had a meeting scheduled with Director Wyeth the next day. The message had come from the director’s assistant, though, not Valen, which had lanced some of the excitement from it.

  Damn, she needed to let it go. Valen had come through for her, and she had no right to ask anything more than that. She had no claim to him, and she’d made it clear that she wanted none. It shouldn’t matter to her if he’d spent the week between the legs of every woman in the city.

  It shouldn’t matter. She shouldn’t care. So, why did it hurt so much?

  Let it go, she thought. She had more important things to worry about than pining over some guy. Taking a moment to compose herself, she breathed in deeply, released it slowly, and shook off her maudlin mood.

  She had work to do.

  During lunch, she had gone to every table, practically begging the citizens of the city to spare their blueberries. Of course, asking people to hand over the one thing on their plate with any sort of flavor hadn’t gone over well.

  Using samples of Earth’s vegetation—along with their superior technology—the Aleucians had done their best to replicate foods they thought would appeal to humans. Mostly, it looked like any main course found in a restaurant, but that was where the similarities stopped.

  Clearly, no one had told them about spices or condiments, because basically everything tasted slightly better than cardboard. The exception being certain fruits and vegetables grown in the modified greenhouses on Level 15.

  These foods, however, were finite, and growing them took time. The blueberries available at lunch had been the first fresh fruit offered in weeks, and it had taken a lot of bribing, bargaining, and persuading for people to part with them. Maybe it would have been easier if she’d told them why she needed the berries, but she had no idea if Director Wyeth would approve the new clothes or not. Until it was official, she didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up or make promises she couldn’t keep.

  So, for now, they just thought she was a berry-hoarding nut job.

  Fantastic.

  After lunch, she’d tied all the blueberries she’d been able to collect into an extra shirt and hauled them down to the laundry room. She’d received a few questioning looks on the lift, and even outright inquiries from those she worked with, but she’d stayed mum. Since she preferred privacy to work on her designs, she’d been forced to tuck her treasure into a corner away from prying eyes, and go about her usual duties for the next several hours.

  On the bright side, washing, drying, pressing, folding, and sorting—such menial and boring tasks—suddenly didn’t seem like such a chore. With every new garment, she imagined how she could change it, how she could make it better, different. Working this way, the hours flew by, and when the alarm had blared to indicate the end of the workday, she’d been so startled, she’d burned her hand on one of the presses.

  Once everyone had cleared out of the laundry room, she’d eagerly retrieved the blueberries from their lonely corner, unwrapped her prize, and set to work turning them into a makeshift dye. She had no way to boil the fruit, but she’d soaked them in the hottest water she had access to, then spent another hour stomping the hell out of them until she had a thick, goopy paste.

  There had only been enough dye for one blouse, and a dress she’d constructed from the fabric of another shirt and a pair of pants, but she didn’t need a whole wardrobe. Since the skin on her feet was still purple and blue, she was optimistic the white fabric had been transformed as well, but there was still a hint of uncertainty as she opened the door of the washing machine to retrieve her items.

  If it didn’t work, she’d just deprived a lot of people of one of the few pleasures in Hope for no good reason.

  “Okay, here we go. Please, please, let this work.” Reaching into the machine, she removed the first blouse, pleased by its purple hue. “Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, thank you.”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  Star screamed.

  She wasn’t proud of it, but there it was. Focused on her task, she hadn’t heard the doors slide open, nor the echo of boots over the tiled floor.

  “Damn it, Valen!” she chastised. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “Apologies, my lady.” His lips curved on one side of his mouth, and he gave her a shallow bow. “You didn’t answer my question, though. Who were you speaking with? Is there someone here with you?”

  If she didn’t know better, she’d say he sounded jealous. “No one here. I was talking to myself. I do that sometimes.”

  His expression cleared, and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed. “Why are you here alone? Your shift ended several hours ago.”

  Star responded with a question of her own. “How did you know to find me here?”

  “Your MINT chip.”

  Glancing down at the small, raised bump on the inside of her wrist, Star nodded. The Monitoring and Identification Neurological Transmitter acted as an ID, allowing her to make purchases and access certain locations with nothing more than a wave of her hand over a scanner. The chip also transmitted her vital signs and loca
tion to a specialized network that permitted the guards to monitor her every move twenty-four hours a day.

  Everyone in the city hated being microchipped like a damn dog, but it was just another price they paid for survival.

  “You know, on Earth, that would be considered stalking.”

  “Then it’s fortuitous for me that we are not on Earth.”

  It occurred to her that he’d spoken every word aloud since entering the laundry room and scaring the bejesus out of her. He made the effort when she reminded him, but usually within a few exchanges, he slipped back into telepathic communication. This was probably the most she’d ever heard him speak aloud. Normally, she’d be happy about it, but now, after spending all week letting her imagination run wild about where he’d been and who he might have been with, it just annoyed her.

  “Stop it.”

  Valen frowned. “What am I doing?”

  “That!” She jabbed her stained-purple index finger at him. “Right there. Stop it.”

  His frown deepened, accompanied by a crease across his brow. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Why are you talking out loud?” she demanded, frustration and hurt making her tone sharper than she’d intended. Damn, she’d missed him, but she couldn’t let herself think that way. “You never do that.”

  “I thought you preferred for me to communicate with you this way.”

  “I do, but you never listen.”

  With a quiet chuckle, the captain shook his head. “You are very confusing, Star.”

  “And you’re frustrating.”

  Valen clenched his teeth to hold back his growl. The female had no idea what frustration was. Seeing her every day, being near enough to smell her sweet scent, to hear the steady pulsing of her heart, but never being able to hold her, touch her, kiss her—that was frustrating.

  He’d gone out of his way to make her comfortable, to do everything she asked of him, and still, she maintained her distance. Oh, she offered him her coy smiles and small glimpses behind her carefully constructed mask of indifference, just enough to keep him coming back for more.