The Envoy, who’d been speaking into a microphone, turned to face the interruption. He raised his eyebrows in inquiry.
“My pardon, Mr. Robertson,” the E’ssennet commander said and resumed his seat. “Please continue.”
Mike stared at the flooring between his boots and refused to look up when he felt the Envoy’s gaze slip across him and heard him chuckle. Mike clenched his jaw and prayed for invisibility. He resigned himself to disappointment when his boots didn’t oblige his wishes and turn transparent.
“Let us retire to the side hall,” said the Envoy. “Refreshments are there and we have the rest of the night to get to know each other. Please. Enjoy the evening.” ::But maybe not the way Mike was thinking.::
Mike refused to cringe, at least not outwardly.
“Dismissed to the side hall,” someone barked to the volunteers.
A rumble of chairs, boots, and voices swelled. The group tromped in the direction indicated.
Their commander had orders for his Urilqii. ::No mind-link at this venue. They’re too new and too vulnerable. Medical, prepare to test. Intelligence, locate the volunteers who are both capable and willing. Dismissed, and keep in mind these are volunteers and we’re guests on their planet. Demonstrate respect and courtesy.:: Mike couldn’t stifle this wince.
Steve laughed.
CHAPTER 5
Liam stood beside the buffet table and scooped a pile of crispy fried potatoes onto his plate. The buffet boasted a mouthwatering cornucopia of food offerings, for both his people and Urilqii, and this wasn’t his first time through the line. Fortunately, no one seemed to care. In fact, he wasn’t the only one making multiple paths up and down between the tables. However, he was one of the few willing to try Urilqii food.
The bread-and-meat canapé-looking things were tasty. He piled them on his plate alongside the potato wedges. Caught in the act of being a greedy ass, he shared a wink with the alien on the other side of the table. The guy had three cheeseburgers piled on his plate, so Liam wasn’t embarrassed.
Sharing cultures? He was down with that.
Not so much down with the light beer offered as a beverage, though. He much preferred a good stout, but hey, his options were limited. A guy took what was available and affordable (meaning free), especially after those weeks he’d spent at boot camp.
However, he selected a soda instead.
He noticed a chunk of soldiers standing in a corner and glowering at the table. Nothing on their plates or in their hands was anything but “good ol’ American” food. Liam rolled his eyes. Why the hell had xenophobes volunteered? Asshats.
Finished scoring his latest foray onto the buffet, Liam wandered back through the small chamber as he munched, an unopened can of Coke tucked into his baggy pocket. The table he’d used before had been tugged against another one and now boasted a chunk of laughing soldiers, five of his guys and three Urilqii.
He’d earlier noticed the alien soldiers—no, the cabal— made a concerted effort to meet and greet the volunteers—er, members of the embedded platoon. They laughed and smiled and offered welcomes in both languages. Liam had wandered close enough to a couple groups to overhear anecdotes about life in the far reaches of space…and in the cities and suburbs of his world.
He hadn’t remained, though, once the usage of “that guy” started up. He could blow off some of the guys, but at every mention of the term the Urilqii in the groups would give him a look, the one that made him worry they could read minds. A creepy feeling, he thought, and it was doubly so whenever it became obvious a grin threatened to escape the polite expressions.
So, he was alone, as was his norm, when he spotted his bearded Paradiso dance partner among a cluster of other Urilqii men.
Chuckling, the guy stood beside a table, one boot on the chair and a plate of food balanced on one palm. Beside him sat an opened container of whatever the Urilqii were drinking this evening.
Buzz Lightyear light beer? Either way, Liam’s reaction was instantaneous. His breath caught, his heart leapt inside his chest and his dick stirred, all of which only pissed him off.
Liam forged a path through the crowd with single-minded determination, vowing all the while to make Gorgeous regret the game of indifference. Liam was stuck with “That Guy” for what looked like the rest of his life, so the very least Mike could do was acknowledge his existence.
Liam came to a stop at the table and plunked his plateful of food beside the space beverage with a satisfying slap of plastic-on-metal. All eyes turned toward him. He didn’t mind, though. He was ready to break off some shit and deliver it with both barrels.
“So,” he snapped, “you gonna keep pretending I don’t exist?”
Gorgeous paused his chewing, evidently startled by the challenge. “What?”
The Urilqii alongside him melted away into the surrounding crowd, every one of them wearing an expression that hinted at amusement.
“You heard me.” Liam scowled. “I’m here, goddammit. Don’t ignore me.”
“Ah…” A long exhalation of understanding. “You think that I’m Mike”—he extended his hand for a handshake, which Liam took on reflex— “but I’m not the First Sergeant. My name is Master Sergeant Steve, head of the liquid teams.”
“Liquid teams?” What the fuck did that mean? But more importantly, he’d blasted the other guy. Hell, what a humiliating mistake. The food in his stomach became a hard, painful lump.
“Uh…sorry… I thought…”
But the guy knew what he’d thought.
A smile blazed across Steve’s face, causing Liam to blink.
Good Christ, he needed to register that as a lethal weapon. Maybe if he was good—very, very good—Mike would smile at him like that.
A guy could only hope.
“No worries,” Steve dropped his hand and took up his drink.
Tilting his head back, he took a gulp. After swallowing, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “We weren’t introduced, but I was there when you and Mike danced.”
The words “and kissed” went unsaid, but the small lift to one side
