Choosing Sides
An Interplanetary Saga
Book One
Chapter 1
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Zerrin was tired. Tired of waiting; tired of being patient. But mostly, she was tired of worrying. Deciding that a change of scenery might be in her best interest, she dresses and heads out to her favorite spot. Having loved the vibe of this place from the moment she’d found it, it had become her club of choice. Especially so on restless nights such as this.
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Stopping at the bar only long enough to speak to an acquaintance, she moves on, weaving her way into the crowd. Moving her body to the beat, she lets the rhythm flow through her and take control. As she dances, Zerrin clears her mind. She pushes away the worry, willing herself to enjoy the beauty of the moment; the freedom anonymity holds. When her thoughts quiet and her anxiety begins to subside, she turns down several offers and makes her way to a booth. Realizing that she’d lost track of time, Zerrin smiles to herself. Having spent so many hours counting the minutes, she is relieved to finally have a few of them slip by without her notice.
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With an exhale, she drops into her chosen booth, flags down a server, and takes a moment to catch her breath.
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“Hey, Zee! Saw you vibing out there. You ready for a drink?”
“Yeah Gin, tell him to set me up? He knows what I like,” she says to the server who smiles and nods in response before heading over to the bar.
Once back, the server bends across the table and slides the drink over to her with a smile.
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“Get you anything else, honey?” Gin asks. Before Zerrin can answer, Gin flinches as a loud slap sounds from behind her. Spinning on her heel, Gin glares at the man standing beside her. “Hey asshole!” she yells in outrage, “hands to yourself!”
“No, I like my hands where they were much better,” the man dubbed ‘asshole’ replies. Stepping in closer, he crowds her against the table and Gin looks to the bar for help.
“Excuse me?” Zee says politely, drawing their attention. “It’s not nice to touch without permission. I think you should walk away, but first? You should apologize,” she says returning her attention to her drink and sipping it innocently as the man laughs in surprise.
“Apologize?” What, you gonna make me?” the man asks, moving over to stand in front of Zerrin instead. Looking up at him past her drink, she bats her eyelashes and smiles.
“Only if I have to,” she sighs, reaching unnoticed into the top of her boot and retrieving a small blade.
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As the man reaches for her, Zerrin moves quickly. She brings the blade down hard into his thigh, pulls it free, and slides to her feet in seemingly one fluid motion. The now screaming man grabs for his wounded leg, doubling over and pressing gingerly against his wound.
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“You fucking bit-” he begins but stops quickly as the swift smack of a solid knee meeting his forehead cuts his angry rant short. With her opponent unconscious, Zerrin scans the crowd for trouble in case he had not been alone. Confident that the man had been on his own, she reaches into his pocket, takes several of his credit chips, and hands them over to Gin.
“Says to tell you he’s sorry. He seemed sincere enough, even wanted to tip you for my drink,” she intones playfully to the laughing server.
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Shaking her head and taking the chips, Gin heads back to the bar more amused than phased as Zerrin surveys the crowd once more. Having seen the show, the bartender sends over a few of his employees to collect the unconscious man but goes back to serving his patrons just as quickly. Though this is one of the nicer clubs on this planet, fights are a daily occurrence and tend to end as quickly as they begin. When the slight scene she had caused clears Zerrin relaxes into her booth, determined not to let anything ruin her fun. Sipping her drink, she looks around the room, checking out a few of the new prospects on the dance floor but nothing catches her eye.
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Trying to decide if she should work the room for easy money, carelessly positioned in snatching range of some unsuspecting mark’s pocket or just relocate to another club, Zee continues to sip from her glass. Having decided on option two, she takes her drink in hand and slides from her corner booth heading for the bar. After several ‘not interested’ and two flat out ‘no’s’, she’s almost free of the gyrating crowd when she sees him and her heart almost stops mid-beat.
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Standing at the bar - leaning against it with an easy confidence that calls out to her, is a man that could definitely be worth her time. He is tall: six-foot-two to her five foot-eight, and she thinks to herself how much she likes the look of him. Licking her lips and drinking in the sight before her, she makes her way over to him; a predator who has found her prey.
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The Dark Moon is a dimly lit club...in fact, Luna Setirus is a dark planet. That this man is wearing dark glasses could be viewed as odd, but not by her. It’s mysterious. Loving a mystery almost as much as she loves a challenge, Zerrin makes a promise to herself that she will see those eyes before the night is done. Deciding that things just got a lot more interesting, she smiles. ‘Game on’.
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Zee had never considered herself as someone who had much of a type. Her taste often changed from one person to the next and she prided herself on being a woman who enjoys variety. However, after seeing this man, she was certain all of that had changed. She had a type now, and this man was definitely it. There are men who try but fail at pulling off the bald look but this man is clearly not one of them. It fits him well; adds something to the attraction she feels for him.
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Smooth caramel skin, broadly cut shoulders, and a freshly trimmed goatee frame the sexiest lips she has ever seen. Her eyes linger on them as a momentary smirk flashes across his features. Almost as if he can read her thoughts, he licks those before mentioned lips and takes a sip of his drink. “Damn”, she whispers to herself as she tosses back the remaining liquid in her glass.
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As she watches him scan the crowd, seemingly searching, she can tell that he’s alone but looking for something or someone to help him change that. The look on his face mirrors the one hers held only moments ago: boredom. When she sees his visual sweep of the room come back in her direction, she steps into his line of sight. His gaze lingers on her for an instance before he turns back to the bar feigning disinterest and she smirks confidently. ‘Oh the game is definitely on.’
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Catching someone’s eye has never been something she’s had a problem doing. What once seemed like a curse to her is now just another tool in her arsenal. One she has used to her advantage since the moment she’d figured out that getting what you want is a lot easier when you look a certain way. She knows what she looks like. Knows that to most people she’s only five feet, eight inches of honey brown sun-kissed skin, toned muscle, and dangerous curves. Add her long black hair and whiskey-colored eyes, slightly slanted and usually sparkling with mischief to the mix, and that is all most people can see. To most people, she’s something to shape or bend to their will - never a threat. To most people, she’s something to be attained or controlled. Most people are idiots.
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The man throws a quick glance over his shoulder and she sweeps her head to the side, tossing her hair over her shoulder. He smirks but continues to watch her approach and she smiles inwardly. Openly now, he’s staring at her and she can feel a rush of heat over every inch of skin his intense gaze caresses. The closer she gets to him the more of his features she can make out. To say that this man is even sexier than she thought possible, may just be the understatement of a lifetime.
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Now within arm’s reach, Zerrin bites her full bottom lip and smiles sweetly before redirecting her gaze.
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“Hey, Sam,” she throws to the man behind the bar.
“Hey there doll, what’ll it be? Another of the usual?”
“You know me so well,” she purrs teasingly, leaning over the bar into his space.
“One S.M.F. coming up,” he replies as he turns to prepare the drink named just for her. As she turns toward the man, her prey, she thinks to herself that her drink may just be perfectly named for the S.M.F. standing next to her now. ‘Waiting for me to make the first move. Nice.’
“Excuse me,” she says watching as he turns to her in answer. “I noticed you from across the room.”
“Hmmm...that so?” her chosen prey says in the deepest, sexiest voice she has ever heard.
“It is. You look to be as bored as I am. I hate being bored.”
“Being bored and being patient sometimes look the same,” he says before taking a sip of his drink. “It’s the intent and the outcome that make them different.”
“So, which one are you?”
“Patient. Payoff is usually better.”
“That so?” she asks mirroring his earlier tone and question.
“It is. I noticed you too. Spotted you almost as soon as I walked in the door. Caught the show, nicely done by the way.”
“Hmm, thanks,” she responds and he nods.
“After that, noticed you looking bored. A little patience on my part and now? Well now, you’re standing here - reasoning the merits of boredom versus patience with me. Payout like that? I’ll take the odds on being patient every time,” he says smoothly, smiling into his glass at her answering smile.
“Patience. Interesting perspective on it. Can be a useful tool but,” she tilts her head in pause as she studies him momentarily, “too much of it can be a real shame. Wasted opportunities and what not,” she finishes turning back to the bar and taking a seat.
“I don’t really believe in it,” he replies, shaking his head and laughing lightly while watching her.
“In wasted opportunities?”
“In the idea that at some point the opportunity I have my eye on could slip through my fingers just like that. Or that I would let it.”
“Guess that would be the downside to patience then?”
“No. That would be the difference between being patient and being passive. Never been one for being passive. I’m more for action myself,” he says, his voice a low growl as he leans in close enough for her to feel the heat of him. “I’m Derek,” he continues, extending his hand. Heat instantly rolls through her body at his touch, and she marvels at the softness of hands that large and capable looking.
“Here ya go, beautiful,” the bartender says interrupting them briefly.
“Thanks, Sam,” she says reaching for her drink with the hand not currently otherwise occupied with introductions.
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Winking at her in answer, Sam goes back to the other end of the bar to check up on other customers. Being somewhat of a partner in crime to her, Sam knows her game. She’d been planet-side for close to three months and they had quickly been able to establish what you might call a working relationship. Sam let her work the bars customers for anyone she could charm, hustle, or steal from, even setting up marks for her on occasion. In return, he gets a weekly cut of her take. So long as she doesn’t get caught or give his establishment a bad name, he’s had no objections to her ‘not so legitimate’ activities.
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Over the past couple of months, he’d seen her seduce men and women alike, depending on her mood and the take involved. Chatting them up with an innocent smile and sincere eyes; feeding them drinks she’d laced herself, and leaving them confused and a little less wealthy than when they’d come in. It had been an enjoyable way to pass the time. Knowing him to have a keen eye, she’s sure he can tell right off that tonight the game is a little different. Tonight it’s not about the tease, the thrill, or the take. It’s about the hunt itself.
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“Derek. Nice to meet you. My name is Zerrin.”
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End of excerpt. To read more of the Choosing Sides: An Interplanetary Saga (Book 1)
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