Giles was waiting at the ramp of the ship. He hugged Malia and ushered her aboard, before turning to Bayne.
“Everyone’s aboard, my lord.”
“Good, but that’s quite enough of that. Lord Bayne dies here and now.”
“Bryce,” Giles said, not surprising him with that knowledge.
“Yeah, apparently. Damned if I remember that, though.” A thought occurred to him. “If Grieves knew, then others must have. What happened to them?”
“I was recruited after you returned from Terranis. There was hardly anyone aboard, but no one really explained it.” Giles grimaced. “Grieves must have dumped the entire crew, possibly even killed them.”
“Then his fate is all that he deserves.”
“Indeed, my lord. Sorry. Bryce.” He hitched his shoulders. “Going to take some getting used to, I guess.”
Bayne clapped the man on the back and stepped onto the ship, followed by Giles. The ramp closed up behind them. “You’ve got three days.”
Ten
A cool breeze ruffled Malia’s hair. She closed her eyes and lifted her face, allowing the fresh air to buffet her, inhaling the smell of sea and salt. She’d missed this more than she’d realized. Though space had endless wonder, there was something… human about being on the ground, with the grass tickling her toes and the sun warm on her back.
Their arrival had caused a flurry of activity within the city, largely panic as the townsfolk gathered the tribute together. They had seemed both relieved and disappointed Bayne had not come to collect—as if the ragtag group of survivors wasn’t quite the same as being subjugated by the Overlord.
Bryce had gone unrecognized, which relieved Malia. She crossed the bridge to the station and pushed open the door. The inside had changed since their arrival—the consoles taken apart and consigned to storage bins, replaced by softer furnishings that turned the place into a home. Sheer fabric hung at the huge glass doors, billowing in the sea breeze let in by Bryce.
She crossed the room and slid her hands around his waist, pressing up against his back. His hands moved to cover hers. Leather wrapped his metal fingers, a new addition to the device she fitted a few days ago.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I should be asking you. How did it go?”
Malia shuddered and hid her face against the rough fabric of his tunic. He blended in better than she’d hoped, though he would always stand out as far as she was concerned. And really, everyone else could slide into the sea and be dashed against the rocks. He was all she needed.
“As bad as I expected, but better than I hoped.” She stroked her hands downward. “But I don’t want to talk about him. I don’t even want to
think
about him.”
Bryce took hold of her wrist and lifted her arm away from him, then turned to gather her into his arms. “What do you want to think about, then?”
“Nothing. I was rather hoping you’d distract me from thinking at all.”
A dangerous smile spread across his lips, making her heart pound faster. “Oh, I think I can do that.”
“I damn well hope so,” she murmured against his lips. “Might have to find someone else to keep me busy, otherwise.”
Bryce growled deep in his throat and pulled her into a fierce kiss. His left hand fisted the back of her dress, the fingers of his right threaded into her hair, holding her still as he plundered her mouth with his tongue.
She surrendered to his demand, as eager for him as he was for her. That hadn’t changed. If anything the passion between them blazed hotter. She wondered whether it was his leaving everything behind, being born over again as a man and not the monster Grieves had built him to be. As if it could be anything else.
He bore her to the floor, the soft carpet rubbing at her exposed skin as he shifted his body over hers. She shivered at the contrast between the cool air and his hot lips. His kisses trailed down her neck and to one breast, then the other. His teeth nipped at the sensitive nubs of her nipples, making her arch and clutch at his shoulders.
“Bryce.”
She whimpered as he moved down, head settling between her trembling legs. Two weeks ago on this very spot, she had knelt and given herself to him without thought, hoping only to keep him from destroying the only home she’d known. Now she gave herself more than willingly, taking everything that he sought to give her, making the place she’d once used as her haven into their home. Their haven. Their place in the universe.
His tongue found the knot of nerves above her sex. Malia cried out, hands searching for purchase, something solid with which to ground herself. Bryce just pushed her thighs wider and took her higher. Hot wet tongue, cool firm fingers, driving her wild and making her come apart. She shattered in the sure knowledge that he would catch her fall.
And he did; moving upward to cover her body, gathering her into his arms as his mouth sought hers. She tasted her own musk and the sweet burn of brandy on his tongue and sucked at it, pulling him in deeper. He let her, sinking past muscles that were still in spasm from her climax. She dropped her head back on a groan.
“Malia,” he purred, voice low and roughened with passion. “My Malia.”
“Always.” She curved her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his thighs, possessing him as much as he did her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He pushed up onto one elbow and grinned down at her. “You’re the one thing I did right, and I want you so much it hurts.”
She smiled. “You have me, Bryce. I’m yours completely.”
“No, not completely.” He traced her bottom lip, a faintly regretful expression on his face. She felt her heart clench. What did he mean? Of course she was his! Who else could possibly claim her? “But you could be. All you need to say is one word.”
“Which is?”
“Yes.”
Malia frowned at him. “And what is the question?”
“Will you marry me?”
Shock bloomed through her on waves of hot and cold. He was insane to propose to her, never mind after a mere seventeen days. She was crazier if she considered it, really. Not that she needed to.
“Hell, yes.”
Bryce laughed and hugged her. She closed her eyes at his passionate kiss. They had a way to go and she knew there would be hard times as well as good, but for now she was content to let him love her and to love him in return.
The future could wait.
About The Author
Misa Buckley grew up watching Doctor Who and Star Trek and reading fantasies from Anne McCaffrey and David Eddings. So when she started writing NaNoWriMo in 2007, it was sci fi that she wrote. She found writing a much-needed haven from the crazy of raising five children and a Land Rover-obsessed husband.
It took her a few years to take the step from writing to submitting, but her first novella was published in July 2011. Now contracted with Champagne Books, she can be found on Twitter (@MisaBuckley) or at her website (www.misabuckley.com)
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