Page 8 of Fool's Gold

Drawing a fortifying breath, I gestured to the symbols. "They're part of Landar's code system. Markers he'd use to identify his hidden stashes."

Kaelith's expression remained inscrutable, but I sensed his intrigue. "You're certain of this?"

"Positive," I affirmed, emboldened by his willingness to listen. "Maybe the treasure is closer than we think."

For a moment, he simply regarded me, those fathomless red eyes boring into me. Then, the faintest hint of a smile curved his full lips, revealing a flash of those lethal fangs. "Then we'd best investigate further."

As we delved deeper into the maze of corridors, following the trail of Landar's cipher, an unfamiliar tension thrummed between us.

Kaelith moved with predatory grace, his muscular form a study in coiled power and deadly focus. Yet, I found my gaze lingering, tracing the stark lines of his alien features, the sinewy cords of muscle rippling beneath his slate-gray skin.

The blue markings etched into his flesh seemed to pulse with a life of their own, swirling in hypnotic patterns that drew my eye.

Unbidden, my mind conjured the memory of his sinewy arms encircling me, of being crushed against his chest in the midst of battle. I shivered, my pulse thundering as that same dizzying mix of fear and inexplicable want churned within me.

"You're staring, human."

Kaelith's rumbling baritone sliced through my daze, and I jerked my gaze away, heat flooding my cheeks. Goddess, had he noticed? Could he sense the confusing tempest of emotions roiling inside me?

"I... sorry," I mumbled, fixing my eyes on the path ahead, determined not to meet that scorching crimson gaze again. "I was just lost in thought."

A low, resonant chuckle drifted from him, the sound raising gooseflesh along my arms. "Is that what you call it?"

The taunting lilt in his voice rekindled my defiance, and I shot him a sidelong glance, arching a brow. "And what would you call it, Vinduthi?"

His lips curved in a wolfish grin, those razor fangs glinting with wicked promise. "Appreciation for the finer things."

Heat blazed across my skin as the implication behind his words sank in. Goddess, was he... flirting with me? The thought was as unsettling as it was thrilling, stoking the raging inferno of confusion churning within me.

I opened my mouth, a biting retort poised on my tongue, but the words died as my gaze snagged on a series of fresh markings etched into the bulkhead. Recognition jolted through me like a current.

"There," I breathed, gesturing toward the crude symbols as I hastened my pace. "Those markings—there's something there!"

Kaelith surged ahead, his powerful strides easily outpacing me as he inspected the wall. I hurried to catch up, anticipation and trepidation warring within me.

"You're certain?" His graveled timbre held an edge I couldn't quite decipher—impatience, or perhaps a hint of eagerness.

"Positive," I affirmed, tracing the scratches with a trembling fingertip. My heart raced as I ran my fingers over the worn metal panel. "This could be it—one of Landar's hidden compartments."

"Then by all means..." With an almost casual flex of his sinewy muscles, Kaelith grasped the hatch's edges and wrenched it open, the shriek of protesting metal reverberating through the corridor. I flinched at the sound, my pulse thundering, but the Vinduthi didn't so much as blink.

As the hatch swung wide, a small, dimly lit space was revealed—some sort of storage compartment by the look of it. My breath caught as I peered inside.

"Well?" Kaelith asked, his deep timbre washing over me. "What do you see?"

It was definitely one of Landar's hiding places. Rows upon rows of dusty bottles lined the cramped space, their once-gleaming surfaces now coated in a thick layer of grime. My heart sank as I realized the extent of the destruction.

I reached out, my fingertips brushing against one of the bottles. It wobbled precariously, the slightest touch causing hairline fractures to spider-web across the thick glass. With a muffled tink, the bottle toppled over, shattering against the floor.

A pungent, almost sickly-sweet aroma wafted up, stinging my nostrils. I recoiled, grimacing as I recognized the unmistakable scent of high-end Corellan whiskey—one of the most expensive and sought-after liquors in this sector of the galaxy.

"By the Goddess..." I breathed, horror mounting as I surveyed the carnage. Bottle after bottle lay shattered, their precious contents seeping into the crevices of the floor, wasted. This was no ordinary cache—it was a veritable treasure trove of rare vintages and exclusive blends, each bottle worth a small fortune on the black market.

Yet someone, or something, had utterly decimated Landar's stash, leaving shards of glass and the bitter tang of spilled liquor in their wake.

"Well?" Kaelith asked again, his deep voice laced with impatience.

"It was a liquor cache.” I looked around more. “High-end stuff, the kind of stock that would make a smuggler's fortune."