Coldbloods (Hotbloods #2)

“This way,” Lazar said, leading Navan and me away from the main room of the Asterope, and down a very narrow hallway to the left. Navan’s shoulders barely fit the width of it.

A second later, he stopped in front of one of the three doors that led off from the corridor. These were, presumably, the pods Kalvin had been speaking about. Pushing the door open, Lazar ushered us inside. Beyond was a tiny room with one bed and a makeshift cot pushed up against the curved wall. Aside from that, and two lamps, the room was bare.

“You should remain here as often as you can, during our journey,” Lazar suggested, his eyes darting out to the hallway. “They will do you no harm while there is breath in my body, but they can’t be trusted. I’m sorry you had to endure that,” he said, turning to me.

“It’s okay,” I lied, still shaken by the words they had spoken.

“Navan, I trust you will keep your temper in check, in the future,” Lazar continued, his gaze shifting to his nephew.

Navan’s eyes burned with angry fire. He still looked confused about the double life his uncle was leading, and how he had come to be here, on Earth, with a rebel band of coldbloods. Perhaps Navan didn’t believe his uncle to be any more trustworthy than the coldbloods out in the main room.

“Unless I’m provoked,” Navan muttered.

“Well, try not to be provoked then,” Lazar said. “Rest up. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us, and you are going to need your strength when we land,” he added, his tone softening.

Without another word, Lazar ducked out of the room and shut the door behind him. Immediately, Navan crossed the space and pressed a button that glowed against the wall. There was a soft beep, before silence fell, leaving only the gentle thrum of the ship’s engine to underscore the moment.

Uncertainly, I wandered over to the bed and sat down on the edge, my eyes looking up at Navan, waiting for him to join me. He did so a moment later, though I could feel the fury pouring off him in waves. His fangs were still half bared, glinting sharply. Curious, I lifted my fingers to touch them. His expression was surprised as my fingertips ran along the smooth edges of the elongated canines.

As I pulled away, I smiled nervously. “They’re pretty impressive,” I said, my heart still pounding from the fracas outside.

“That’s one word for them,” he muttered.

Wanting to make Navan feel better, I put my arms around him and pulled him down onto the bed, wrapping myself up in his arms, feeling the strong contours of his chest beneath my head, and the steady beat of his heart within. He nuzzled into me, kissing me gently on the lips, just once. It was long and lingering, and though I wanted to enjoy it, I held back, knowing it wasn’t the right moment.

Fear wasn’t exactly an aphrodisiac, and I didn’t like the thought of the coldbloods cackling outside, listening in. No, this was a moment for safety and security, and Navan had that in spades. Here, with him, I felt like nobody could get at me. We were in each other’s arms, heading for a nightmarish world—I needed him just to hold me, to make things start to feel better again.

Although, maybe even his arms weren’t capable of that.



The next three days went by in a blur. As much as I wished we could go after the pod containing my blood that was still drifting its way through space, Orion’s orders to Lazar were that capturing the pod was only to happen after our mission on Vysanthe—as some sick incentive to ensure we performed well and got out alive, no doubt.

And so, there was nothing to do but wait. Navan and I tried to stay in our pod as much as possible, as I didn’t want to face those pigs again and neither did Navan. Whenever I needed the bathroom, Navan would escort me, not wanting me to get caught in the corridor alone. During the brief periods we were out of our pod, Lazar made an attempt to talk to Navan if he was passing by, but for the most part, Navan was successful at avoiding him too.

On the evening of the third day, however, Lazar came to Navan in our pod. Navan let him in, eyeing him stonily while Lazar greeted him, then walked over to a small box in the far corner that I hadn’t paid much attention to, and pressed a button. The lid popped open, and Lazar took two cushions and a box from within. Setting them down on the floor, with the box in the center of the two cushions, he beckoned to Navan.

“I bet it has been a while since you’ve played Periculum,” he said, a tentative smile tugging his lips.

Navan frowned. “I haven’t played that since I was a kid… With you, actually—that was the last time.”

“Feel like a game? We’ll be arriving soon, so this might be our last chance.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine. Arriving soon. Although this journey was not exactly comfortable, a part of me wished it would last forever, so we never had to reach our destination. I was also surprised that it had gone so quickly. I hadn’t asked Navan exactly how long it took to travel between Earth and Vysanthe in his Soraya, but I hadn’t gotten the impression that it was this fast.

I watched Navan’s expression, which looked as tense as I felt. “Your rebel tech is more advanced than I gave you credit for,” he said after a moment.

Lazar shrugged. “Orion has quite a large pool of great minds at his disposal.” Then he paused, watching Navan and waiting for an answer to his question.

I watched Navan too, wondering what he was going to say. I had wanted them to have a moment in which they might repair the broken links in their relationship, but only Navan could decide when and where that might happen.

“I guess a game couldn’t hurt,” he muttered at last, taking the cushion opposite his uncle.

A look of secret delight flitted across Lazar’s face for the briefest moment, seen only by me. Perhaps there was hope yet of the two of them saving their relationship.

Intrigued by the game they were playing, I wandered over and sat on the edge of the bed, tucking my legs under me. I peered over Navan’s shoulder to watch what was going on. It looked something like a game Roger used to try to get me to play, though this one had different quadrants on a board shaped like a map, and various objects of different sizes stacked up in a smaller box to either side of each player. After watching them set up, each putting a team of small figures into position, I soon realized that the aim of the game was to dominate the board, taking over each quadrant, until it was entirely filled with your color.

Of course it is, I thought to myself bitterly. What else would Vysantheans play?

It was a game of intellect and skill. I watched intently as Navan moved the figures across the board, storming through sections that were colored in the light blue of Lazar’s pieces. He was good, his mind working in ways mine never would when it came to sneak attacks and sacrificing pieces in return for more space on the board. They were engrossed, the pair of them, and for once I could see the family resemblance, in the way their brows furrowed.