Destin's Hold (The Alliance #5)(43)

“You are addictive,” he muttered, reluctantly pulling away and turning. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“I’ll be here,” Sula said, following him to the door and opening it. “Destin….”

Destin turned to look at her. “Yes….”

Sula opened her mouth and closed it before she opened it again. “Be safe,” she said.

“Always,” he promised, grimacing when the lift opened and Trig stood in the middle of it. “Surprised to see you here, Trig.”

“I thought I’d give you two time to settle in,” Trig quipped, his assessing gaze taking in their flushed and tousled appearances with a grin. “Looks like I was right.”

“Shut up, Trig,” Destin muttered, walking over and stepping into the lift.

Thankfully, the lift doors closed and cut off Trig’s laughter. Destin didn’t want Sula to be embarrassed. He leaned back and shook his head.

“I can always order you thrown in jail,” Destin muttered when the lift began to descend.

“It wouldn’t help you. I’d just escape,” Trig replied, leaning back against the railing.





13





Prymorus studied the surrounding area. The ruins of buildings rose up all around him. The men with him were gathering an array of weapons. It was seldom that a Waxian would wage full out war with another species. Their preference was strike from within, cutting the artery of their prey and watching them bleed to death. Prymorus would leave the direct attacks to his Drethulan counterparts.

“What have you found?” Prymorus asked, not turning to look at the other male, but continuing to scan the area.

“The surrounding buildings are clear. They appear to have been abandoned,” the male stated.

“Search them again and set up guards. I want to make sure the perimeter is secure. I do not want the Trivators to be alerted to our presence yet. We will set up a command center in the abandoned building to the left. Cover the freighter; I don’t want it found,” Prymorus ordered.

“Yes, sir,” the other Waxian male said with a bow of his head before he backed away and turned.

“Retris…,” Prymorus said.

“Yes, sir,” Retris replied, turning to face Prymorus again.

“I notified the Jawtaw, Omini, we are here. He is sending me a Raftian as a liaison; search him thoroughly before bringing him here,” Prymorus ordered.

“I will supervise the search myself,” Retris promised, placing his hand on the pistol at his side.

“I will hold you personally responsible if anything should happen,” Prymorus responded before dismissing the other man.

He walked over to one of the buildings he had chosen for his headquarters. It was a far cry from his accommodations back on Dises V or the other dozens of places he controlled for the Waxian regime on different worlds. While he had no need for a permanent residence, Prymorus had learned to appreciate the luxuries his authority afforded him.

Stepping through the crumbling door of the building, he glanced around the dim interior. His top lip pulled upward in distaste when he saw the condition of the ruined foyer. A long counter divided a section on the left side of the room. The top of the counter was covered in dust. One of the paintings hung at an odd angle. The painting that had once hung next to the first now lay broken behind the counter.

The bottom floor of the building opened into a spacious area where numerous chairs, low tables, and long couches resided, eerie reminders of the once magnificent building where humans had come to gather and rest. Large and small fake plants lay on their sides and were covered in dust. On the far right side, there appeared to have been some form of dining section.

Prymorus walked over to the desk area. His sharp gaze settled on a door that separated the large open area from the section behind the counter. He tested the handle and discovered it was locked. He took a step back and kicked just above the handle. The loud sound of the door breaking echoed through the interior. He watched dispassionately as the door swung inward.

He pushed it out of the way and walked behind the desk, noting the different items on the counter behind it. It reminded him of a resting facility on several of the Spaceports he had visited. Stepping over the debris, he walked around the back of the partition. Satisfaction coursed through him when he discovered a large room. It would work well as a temporary base.

He turned when he heard footsteps in the other area. Drawing his laser pistol, he walked over and peered around the wall. Several men were bringing in equipment.

“Install the communication systems in here,” Prymorus ordered.

“Yes, sir,” the men replied, slightly out of breath.

Prymorus watched the men unload several the crates of equipment onto the counter. It would take them approximately an hour to clear the back area and set everything up. In the meantime, he would return to the freighter they had stolen and work from there.

“General Achler, the Raftian has notified us that he can leave without being noticed,” Retris said, falling into step next to Prymorus as he strode across the road.

“Make sure he comes alone and unarmed,” Prymorus instructed.

“Yes, sir,” Retris replied.

Prymorus’ lips tightened. “When he arrives, bring him to me,” he ordered.

“Immediately, General,” Retris replied. He paused and turned to bark out a command to a warrior waiting for his instructions. “Tell the Raftian to meet at the appointed rendezvous point. I will bring him in from there.”