“I am with you always,” he said.
“Thank heaven.” She sagged against him. “I need a bath. And brandy. And Mrs. Baldry’s plum pudding.”
He disliked the bruise blossoming on her arms. “Take your bath. I will fetch a salve to minimize the bruising.”
“Bruising?” She twisted her arm to see. “It’s not so bad.”
“It is damage to your capillary system caused by outside pressure. It is unacceptable.” His hand brushed the affected area. Just thinking about it stoked his anger. Elizabeth asked him to be with her now, not to storm off to break bones, but to stay and tend to her aches. He would do that. It took all his will, but he would do that.
“Take your bath,” he said, forcing himself to ignore his female’s injury.
In the shuttle, he retrieved a tube of gel to ease the tenderness of her bruise. Back in the house, he found her in the bath. Steam hung in the air and condensation clung to the colder tiles on the wall and the window.
She flinched as he entered the room but relaxed back into the water, not bothering to cover herself. “Oh, it’s you.”
He frowned. She acted like a defeated creature, skittish of sudden noises. This was not his Elizabeth.
He knelt beside the tub and took the washcloth from her. Gently, he lathered up her back and arms, using the opportunity to inspect the damage. “How many bones of his do I break for you?”
“Just his hand, I should think.” She took the cloth and scrubbed at her face and neck. Once clean, she leaned back in the water, letting her dark hair fan out.
“I will make it so,” he vowed.
“I’d rather not talk about him,” she said, floating in the water. “We only have tonight and tomorrow left. Please, let’s not allow Gilbert to spoil it.”
He growled at the male’s name.
“My opinion, exactly,” she said, some warmth returning to her eyes.
“I apologize for my actions last night.”
“I won’t allow you to ruin our remaining time together, either, Reven Perra, so do shut up. What has passed is past.” She gripped the edge of the tub and hauled herself out, water sluicing off her form.
Reven toweled her dry and immediately sat her on a low stool. She wrapped a towel around her midsection, covering her nudity as much as possible. He applied the gel to the bruise and every slightly off-colored patch of skin.
He hated this. The situation was wrong, and he didn’t know how to fix it. He hated the feeling of helplessness with his female. He hurt her with his words as surely as that Gilbert fool hurt her with his hands.
He needed her to be angry with him, not this quiet, passive female.
“Would you feel better if you yelled at me?” he finally asked.
“Is shooting you still an option?”
Much better. Her bite returned.
“I appreciated that you didn’t ogle me,” she said. “I’m unhappy but not with you. I know you do not feel as strongly about me as I do about you.”
He wanted to say that was not true, that she was his light in the darkness, and he dreaded spending the rest of his days without her. She would then tell him that the solution was simple: take her on his journey home. The risk was unacceptable. They had that argument already. No good would come from treading down that road again.
Perhaps she spoke a falsehood to make their separation more bearable. If she could pretend that he did not care, she could feign equal indifference. Again, no good would come if he voiced his observation, so he kept his mouth shut.
Finally, after all these years, he learned to hold his tongue. His father would be proud. Reven would laugh if the situation did not hurt his heart so terribly.
“Done,” he said, capping the tube.
“It tingles.” She shrugged on a silken robe.
“That’s how you know it’s working. Now, to bed with you, female.”
Quickly, she climbed into her bed. He turned to leave, to return back to the shuttle.
“Don’t go,” she called after him. “Please. Stay with me. We don’t have to—” She blushed.
“I will watch over you as you slumber,” he said. Cautiously, he sat at the edge of the bed. The springs creaked under his weight.
“Thank you. I feel much better knowing you’re here.”
Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth
Strong arms wrapped around her and she snuggled deeper into the blanket, soaking up the warmth. It was a perfect moment of stillness before the day began. She could stay like this forever.
She was in bed with another man and it felt right. Part of her heart would always belong to David. He hadn’t been perfect, their marriage wasn’t perfect, but she had loved him, knowing their days would come to an early end.
How fitting that she fell for another man who also had limited days on Earth.
She loved Reven, too, just as deeply. Her new love hadn’t pushed out the old. Rather, she found room for both.
She wanted to lie there, in his arms, and not start the day and the clock that would ultimately separate them.
“I know you are awake,” Reven said.
“No. I’m still asleep.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Female, you are speaking.”
“I talk in my sleep. It is a frightfully common malady.” She rolled over to face him, a sleepy grin on her face. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he repeated. The slow smile on his face somehow managed to make him more handsome. He looked correct, as if her bed was where he belonged.
She pushed down the regret that she couldn’t experience this simple pleasure every morning. This was their last day—the last morning. There was no room for regret.
Her hand carded through his unruly hair, enjoying the silken texture of the strands. She drew him down for a kiss, intending it to be sweet and playful. He surprised her with a heated response.
Warmth spread in her core, awakening a now familiar ache.
He rolled her onto her back. With her hands pinned above her head, he pressed his face into the curve of her neck. She felt the scrape of teeth, followed by long, slow licks of his tongue rasping against her skin.
He pulled away, groaning her name. “Elizabeth, I swear I could spill just from the sight of you. I’m going to stroke myself raw remembering this.”
“Me too.”
His eyes fluttered shut as bliss crossed his strong face. “Temptress.”
Bittersweet longing curled around her. She’d remember the way the morning light softened his strong features, the weight of him, and the heat of his touch.
“Today’s the day,” she said.
He pulled away, reluctantly. “I have approximately nine hours to complete repairs and enter the wormhole.”
“Well, I should send you off with a proper breakfast.” She reached for her dressing gown.
“Why aren’t you angry with me?”
She fussed with the belt on the dressing gown, allowing herself a moment to order her thoughts. “I put you in an unfair situation,” she said. He opened his mouth to protest but she spoke over him. “No. It was unfair of me to insist you bring me with you. You say it is unsafe—then it is unsafe. I’ve believed everything you’ve told me so far, so I have to believe that as well.”
His arms tightened around her. “I would bring you with me if I could.”
He could, but the odds were a disheartening seventy percent chance of failure. Elizabeth kept that thought to herself. Her anger and tears couldn’t change that fact. It was tantamount to suicide.
“I know it was also unreasonable to ask you to stay,” she said. “If you miss the wormhole, then you’re stuck and you cannot hide in my barn forever. Eventually you’d be discovered and spend your life in a zoo or a dungeon. Either way, it’s captivity.”
“Perhaps I’d be stoned by superstitious Terrans,” he added.
“Very probable.” The rag and bone man called Reven a demon. Her alien beast might be fast and strong, but a bullet w
ould hurt him the same as anyone. Even primitive weapons could be deadly.
He had refused to make love to her because that act would be a commitment and he wasn’t the type of man to make a false pledge. She admired that quality about him. At the time, it was frustrating and made her heart ache, but after a night’s sleep, she understood his position. A good man does not compromise a woman’s virtue and leave.
The night’s rest gave her a chance to reflect on a few more practical reasons to abstain. She could fall pregnant. Having a child out of wedlock would be difficult but she’d move to where no one knew how much time passed between the death of her husband and the birth of her child. However, that plan was only viable for a human child. Reven’s child would only be half-human. Who knew what it would look like?
He, she corrected herself. Mahdfel only have sons.
Their son would be an outcast at best. At worst, a demon, hunted for his differences.
This was for the best.
Reven
A solemn mood hung over them. She smiled and made her terrible jests, but Reven could see the sadness in her eyes. This was a female was had grown to accept that those she loved would leave her. That knowledge curled sourly in his gut. He hated that he caused her pain.
He focused on his task, explaining the process fully. If Elizabeth grew weary of his technical chatter, she never said, listening intently without a word of protest. With the last of the panels bolted into place, the edges required welding to create a seal. His tools finished the job promptly.
“It may not be airtight, and I expect the seals to fail when I enter the wormhole,” he said. It would be a turbulent journey at best. He half expected the shuttle to tear apart, which he welcomed; at least the shuttle would match his emotional state.
Her eyes focused on the two stasis chambers in the back.
“Those look like an opportunity but they are a trap,” he said. “If the wormhole fails, I will seal myself in, but they are not designed for long-term use. The probability of never waking is high.”
“You had said.” She shivered.
He hesitated to even consider the stasis chambers as backup plan, but he must consider all options. If he had to resort to them, he would land the shuttle on the moon. Near the location of the future lunar base would be a suitable location to wait out the centuries. The shuttle would send a distress signal with instructions on when to retrieve him.
“If the seals fail and I am in the stasis chamber, the extreme temperatures may cause it to malfunction.” The shuttle had enough power for basic functions for a millennium. That was not his concern. If the patches failed, the atmosphere escaped, and the shuttle’s internal temperature would drop below freezing. He would freeze to death while in the chamber.
“And stasis is a type of hibernation,” she said, repeating what he explained earlier.
“Yes. My heart rate will be lowered to the point that most vital functions cease.”
Her keen eyes scanned the shuttle’s interior. It had not been particularly aesthetically pleasing before. Now, after Reven had salvaged all he could for repairs, it looked ready for the scrap heap.
“One question,” she started. He snorted. She never had just one question. Her eyes narrowed as if she knew what he thought and she continued, “Why does a ship this small have something like that to begin with? This doesn’t seem like it’s built for long voyages. There’s no head or berth.”
He blinked. Her last words made no sense. “Apologies. My translator has finally malfunctioned. This is a medical shuttle. A female could give birth here, but I do not recommend it.”
She shook her head. “I mean a bunk. For sleeping.”
“Ah. Again, this is a medical shuttle. Its function is to take the injured from the battlefield to a medical center, either on a battlecruiser or a station. The journey is never long, but if a warrior is critically injured or the journey is delayed for some reason, he is placed in the stasis chamber. The device is meant to be used a handful of days, a month, perhaps. At most a year.”
“And you plan to seal yourself up in one.”
“As a last resort.”
“For how long?”
He told her the number, and her eyes grew large. “I must rely on the chamber well beyond its intended purpose. If it fails, I will not wake.” His knuckled brushed the side of her face. “Which is why I cannot ask you to join me. The risk is great. If the unthinkable happens—”
“We’d never know,” she said. “If the chamber fails, we’d never know. It’d be like we went to sleep.”
She wanted to take the risk, he knew, but he refused to budge from his position.
“No. The unthinkable is not our mutual demise. If I wake and you do not, I could not go on.” His hand rested on the back of her neck, and he rested his chin on the top of her head. “I could not bear the pain knowing that my selfishness ended your life.”
She sighed, defeated.
“Do not argue with me,” he whispered. “Or tell me I am cowardly, that the risk is worth it.” If she pushed, he feared he would relent. If she presented one reason, no matter how feeble, to justify the risk…
He would have no honor. He would have placed his own selfish wants and desires above the well-being of his mate. Even if his plan succeeded, he would be an unworthy mate and that knowledge would haunt him. Every male in the clan would look upon Reven and know that he risked his mate’s life because he feared the pain of being without her.
This way was better for both parties.
“How much longer?” she asked.
He glanced at the chronometer function on his wrist comm. “Not long. I need to complete a final inspection and then…”
“And then,” she said, nodding. Her eyes grew misty but tears did not fall. His brave female.
With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face back.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said.
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like I’m the only thing you can see.”
“You are my beacon in the dark. A miracle. My true mate. Your light will always guide me, no matter how far I stray from home.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “Is this home?” she breathed.
“Yes, you are.” He pressed a kiss to those trembling lips and a sob heaved in her chest. He did not wish to leave her like this, crying, but could see no other way.
She pulled back, sniffing. Her hand swiped at her eyes. “I’ll fix you a hamper, for your journey. I know you have your rations, but those are appalling. I’ll send you off with at least one decent meal.”
He nodded. The final inspection would not take long. He would be gone by the time she returned with a package of food. She knew this. “If that is what you wish.”
“It’s for the best, I think.”
Elizabeth
Exiting the shuttle nearly crushed her heart. Hugging her sketchbook close to her, she kept her eyes focused on the ground. She couldn’t bear to say farewell so she made an excuse to scurry off, like a coward. Hiding in the kitchen would ease the pain in her heart but it would save Reven from witnessing her tears.
She collided with a tall figure, knocking her and the sketchbook to the ground.
“Gilbert!”
He pulled her to her feet. With a lecherous smile, he produced a handkerchief and dapped at her tears. “Whatever happened? Why the tears?”
She stepped away and pressed her back to the stone wall. “Whatever are you doing here?” she asked carefully, keeping her voice calm and measured.
He cocked his head to one side. “Who were you talking to?”
“Oh, just myself. You know what they say about artists,” she said. Her hands scrambled across the rough stones, looking for a loose piece to use as a weapon, just in case. She held no fear for her own safety, knowing a shout from her would summon Reven in a heartbeat, but she did not want the alien to reveal himself to Gilbert. They got lucky with the rag and bone man, but their luck couldn’t hold foreve
r.
“I came to apologize about my beastly behavior,” he said.
“I see.” What did he expect? For her to forgive and forget, as if he never kissed her against her will or tore her dress?
“Please tell me I did not ruin things between us? Tell me there’s hope.”
She worked away the crumbling mortar, and a stone wiggled in her grasp. Triumphant, she smiled and pulled the rock free.
He noticed. “What do you have there?”
She sidestepped, but he caught her wrist and raised the hand with the stone. He raised an eyebrow.
“Planning to stone me?”
“Nothing so barbaric,” she said, shaking him off. “I think you better leave.”
“Not until I have your forgiveness.”
“Honestly? I mean, you hurt me and shoved me to the ground and you think I should forgive you?” No. Not happening in this lifetime.
“It’s the Christian thing to do.” He watched her, as if looking for some reaction to his words.
“Sod the Christian thing to do! I am so tired of people acting as if I don’t know my own mind. I do not like you. I will never marry you. I would rather… rather kiss a goat than kiss you!”
“Oh, Elizabeth. I wish you hadn’t said that.” He moved towards her.
She swung the rock, missing by a fair margin but the action made her point.
A growl came from the barn, but it had to have been the wind. Reven would have come charging through the doorway if he heard the conversation.
Gilbert stepped back, alarmed. “What the devil is that?”
“I don’t hear anything,” she lied. “Must be the wind.”
“It’s the beast!”
“You’re more of a beast than Reven is,” she said automatically, before she could stop herself.
“It’s true! You conjured up the beast.” He hastily retreated, eyes fixed on the darkened barn door. “I didn’t believe Felicity until now, but you truly are a witch.”
Alien Warlord's Miracle Page 12
