by Lolita Lopez
“Is it always this quiet?” Raze asked.
“No. Normally, the streets would be busy. People heading into their morning shifts and others getting off from their night shifts in the factories and mills. These restaurants are usually open, too.”
“I expected more police presence,” he admitted, his well-honed gaze scanning their surroundings for any threats.
“So did I, but with George dead, there’s probably a power struggle happening between the street police and the secret police. Protecting the slums and working districts wasn’t ever the goal of the police force anyway.”
They walked a few more feet before Raze cautiously asked, “Do you want to talk about what happened, Ella? About George and Harkin?”
“What’s there to say?” She glanced over at him and shrugged. “They’re dead.”
“Yes, and how does that make you feel?”
She stopped and pivoted toward him. With a frown, she said, “You don’t have play hostage negotiator with me. I don’t need you to work me like you do a subject, Raze.”
“I’m sorry.” He cupped her face in his big, warm hands. “I want to make this all go away. I want to fix it for you, but I don’t know how. All I know is what I do best and that’s negotiating and getting people to open up about their problems so I can help them move on and out of danger.”
She placed her hands over his. “Raze, that’s not what you do best.”
Now it was his turn to frown. “No?”
“No.” She turned her head and kissed his palm. “What you do best is love me.”
He gazed down at her with such love blazing in his eyes. He didn’t have to say a thing to communicate how much he loved her. She raised up on tiptoes to kiss him, meeting his mouth halfway. It was a gentle kiss, and when it ended, she clasped his hand and tugged him along the broken sidewalk.
By the time they reached the cemetery, the sky had started to lighten around the horizon with a glow of pink and orange. The wet gravel under their boots crunched and squished with each step, and Ella leaned heavily on Raze in some of the slipperier patches. Up at the highest point of the cemetery, under a beautiful tree, Ella stopped. “Danny and Naya bought this plot for her. They wanted her to have the best view of the sunrise.”
Raze slid his arm around her shoulders and gathered her in tight. He kissed the top of her head and let her have a moment. She didn’t want cry again, but the tears were impossible to stop. The slipped down her cheeks in a hot trail that dripped off her chin and onto her jacket. She allowed herself to feel it all—the grief of losing her baby, the pain of killing Harkin, the end of George’s terror, the deaths of all the people who had been caught in the bombs.
Through it all, Raze simply held her and bolstered her strength with his. When she finally stopped weeping, he wiped away her tears with his thumbs and hauled her into his embrace. She melted into his warmth and reveled in the powerful feel of his arms around her.
“I spoke to Sosie.” He seemed pained by his sudden admission.
She leaned back in his arms, just enough to meet his troubled gaze. “Your ex?”
He nodded, his expression grave. “We crossed paths on Jesco.”
“Oh?”
“Her son threw the rock that hit me,” he explained, gesturing to the neatly bandaged wound on his head. “She was mortified, and he wasn’t the least bit sorry for it.”
“He’s a teenager, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then, no, he wasn’t sorry at all. He probably still thinks you deserved it.”
“Maybe I did,” Raze remarked with a slight shrug. “We have made a mess of things. My people,” he clarified. “We haven’t done our best in the colonies or on this planet. We seem to make things worse, and I worry it’s going to get even uglier before it finally takes a turn for the better.”
“Probably,” Ella agreed. Feeling as though Raze had more to say about seeing his former mate, she asked, “How was she? Sosie, I mean. Is she well? Her family?”
“She looked good. Happy,” he added. “She has the family she always wanted with her husband. It was nice to see her settled well.”
“Like the ending to your story with her?” Ella guessed.
“Yes,” he said. “Like that exactly. It was closure.”
“Closure,” she echoed, thinking of all that had happened. “I suppose I got my closure as well. Not in the happy way you did, obviously, but it’s done. That part of my life is finished.” Desperate for the silver lining in all this death and destruction, she smiled up at him. “Now, we get to start our new journey together.”
Instead of the smile she had expected from Raze, he looked crestfallen. His expression turned dark and sad. He swallowed hard and seemed to be warring within himself to speak. His lips parted three times before he finally managed to speak. “Ella, I have to tell you something, and it’s going to change everything between us.”
A frisson of panic coursed through her. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, she insisted, “You can tell me anything, Raze. Even if it’s something terrible. I want to know. Whatever it is—just be honest.”
“I should have told you earlier. I should have told you the night I stole you, but I was a selfish prick. I was just thinking about myself and about how much I wanted you. When you said you couldn’t have babies, I was fucking elated—which, I know, sounds horrible—but it meant I wouldn’t have to tell my secret. It meant I could keep you and the medical board wouldn’t get involved and separate us and give you to someone else and—”
Reeling from his burst of confusing truth, she touched her finger to his lips. “Raze, slow down.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “Now, tell me your secret.”
He grasped her hand and drew her finger away from his mouth. Holding tight to her hand, he looked on the verge of tears as he confessed, “I’m sterile. I got sick during my first deployment and didn’t get treatment fast enough. My seed is lifeless.”
Ella blinked. “Is that it?”
“Is that it?” he repeated with a huff. “It’s everything.”
“Not to me,” she replied forcefully. Staring up into his handsome face, she could see how painful his secret was and could only imagine how it had been tearing him up all this time. “Is this why Sosie left you?”
“Yes,” he said, his gaze cast down shamefully. “Partly. My behavior as a mate was severely lacking, but being sterile was the nail in our mate-bond coffin. Our relationship was all but done at that point. She got pregnant during her affair, and we agreed that I would apply for a Discard and let her go. She wouldn’t be forced to reveal she was with child, and I wouldn’t be forced to reveal that I’m sterile. She avoided criminal charges, and I avoided being branded as defective. Terror destroyed the evidence in my medical record—and I moved on.”
Her heart ached for Raze. In his culture, virility was everything. If he couldn’t father children, he wasn’t a man. He would have lost the respect of his friends and his subordinates and superiors. So, of course, he had felt relief when she had revealed herself to be infertile. She didn’t blame him for that insensitive thought.
“I’m sorry, Ella. I’m sorry for lying to you. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
“Wasting my time?” She scowled. “What does that mean?”
“Risk fixed you.” He gestured to her stomach. “You’ll need a man who can give you children.”
Ella rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Don’t be stupid!”
“I’m being practical,” he retorted defensively. “Once you’ve gone a year without getting pregnant, they’ll drag us in for testing. They’ll find out I’m sterile. We’ll be forced into a Discard, and you’ll be given the choice to choose another mate or leave the Valiant.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“They won’t give you a choice, Ella. They’ll make you go.”
“I’d like to fucking see them try!” She grasped the front of Raze’s shirt in both hands and forced him to meet her gaze. “You stole
me from Swift, but I chose you that night. I lied for us. I made it possible for you to keep me because I wanted you.”
“You chose me,” he echoed, as if seeing it for the first time.
“Exactly,” she said, loosening her grip on his shirt. “Raze, I don’t want to be with you just so I can have babies. I want to be with you because you make me happy. You make me feel loved and protected and safe. You make me smile and laugh. You are the man I have been waiting for my whole life.”
“Ella…”
“Listen to me, Raze,” she touched his jaw, “whatever happens, I’m not leaving you. If those assholes in charge decide we can’t be mated anymore and I have to leave your ship, I’ll go back to The City or to one of the colonies. I’ll visit you as often as I can, every week if possible, and when you earn enough points to retire, I’ll be there waiting for you.”
“Ella.” He crushed her in his embrace, lifting her off the ground and holding her close. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and cried. The sound broke her heart all over again, and she clung to him, whispering that she loved him and would always love him.
When he finally lowered her to the ground, his arms still around her waist, he said, “I wish I could help you be a mother again.”
“Oh, Raze,” she said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t have to give birth to be a mother. There are so many ways for us to be parents. There are so many children on this planet who need parents to love them and care for them.”
“Your shelter.”
“Our shelter.”
“Ours?”
“Yes,” she said, making a decision right then and there. “If we want things to change down here, we have to take the first steps ourselves. Let’s do that with the shelter. You and me. My people. Your people. Together.”
Raze laced their fingers together and smiled. It was a smile that promised everything would be fine. It was a smile that soothed the awful ache in Ella’s chest. It was a smile that held all her hopes for their future.
He touched his forehead to hers and whispered, “Together.”
Epilogue
Five Weeks Later
Torment worked his way along the edge of the thick mass of bodies crowding the officer’s club. He hadn’t wanted to visit tonight, but there were high-ranking visitors on the ship and his presence had been expected. After the obligatory drink and an hour of pretending he wanted to be there, he had been ready to bolt. He didn’t want to discuss the election results on the planet below or argue the complete idiocy of the proposed locations for their first base. He didn’t want to listen to ambassadors who had never fired a weapon speak about culling their armories and stripping their budgets.
Thankfully, Pierce had come through with an urgent message. He had excused himself and was now trying to meander his way to the exit. Every now and then, he paused to watch couples engaging in public play. Although he enjoyed watching, he rarely visited and hardly ever played with any of the poppies or couples who welcomed a third. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy sex. He did, but for the last few years, it had felt empty and unfulfilling. He wanted something more. Something real. A connection with another person who belonged to him and only him.
Like that.
Standing on the edge of a play area, he watched Raze tease Ella. Apparently, the muse had a bit of an exhibitionist streak in her. Blindfolded and dressed in an exquisite corset and stockings, she looked beautiful in the ropes and knots binding and suspending her from the ceiling. Raze had taken special care with her tonight. He had used his ropes to highlight all the prettiest parts of her. She looked like a piece of art suspended that way.
He glanced around the enthralled crowd and understood why they were so drawn in by the couple. Deep and abiding, strong and quiet, their obvious love radiated and touched all those who surrounded them. The caress of Raze’s hand down her ribcage and along her thigh. The slight shiver as Ella sighed with pleasure under her mate’s hand. It was enough to make any man fight for a slot in the next Grab.
But not me.
Realizing he was being sidetracked by their interesting show, he reluctantly turned and weaved his way to the exit. Out in the corridors of the ship, he found the closest restricted access door and swiped his chip. He crossed the ship via the hidden passages, all the while wondering whether Pierce had an actual urgent message or if his friend had simply known Torment would want to leave his forced socializing.
As he waited for an elevator, Torment felt the strange sensation of being watched. It had been happening more frequently. He couldn’t decide if it was an actual reaction to being observed or if he had simply grown paranoid. They were still no closer to identifying the mole on the ship.
“There you are,” Pierce announced. “I hope I didn’t drag you away from anyone interesting.”
Closing the door to their highly restricted offices, Torment ignored Pierce’s waggling eyebrows. “What was so urgent?”
Pierce grinned devilishly. “Someone sent you a gift.”
“What?” Torment frowned. “What kind of gift?”
“It’s on your desk. Special delivery, by the way.”
“Oh?”
“Your secret admirer gave it to Danny who sent it to Naya who brought it to Menace who carried it here to be checked out,” Pierce detailed the package’s journey from the planet’s surface to his desk. “I cleared it personally. All the scans came back clean.”
Curious now, Torment strode to his office. He found the slightly dented brown box sitting on his desk. He picked it up carefully and was surprised by the weight. He glanced at Pierce. “This is heavy.”
“Smells good, too,” Pierce added.
Torment brought his nose closer to the top of the package where it had been sealed and sniffed. The unmistakable scent of oranges filled his nose. Cautious but amused, he carefully placed the box back on his desk, retrieved a knife from his belt and slit open the top. He pulled back the flaps and stared down at the neatly arranged piles of oranges.
“Someone sent you fruit?” Pierce looked just as confused as Torment felt. “But who sent it?”
Torment picked up the folded scrap of paper on top of the oranges. Inside, there were a few hastily scribbled lines.
I owed you.
Now you owe me.
Jolly
“The journalist,” Torment said, folding up the note and tucking it into his pocket. “She stole my oranges after she disabled me.”
“Oh,” Pierce said, drawing out the word as if he had just stumbled onto a big secret. “You must have made quite an impression on her.”
Torment scowled at him. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It must have been something like that.” Pierce stole one of the oranges from the box, earning another scowl from Torment. “She sent you fruit, man.”
Torment didn’t reply. He was more curious as to whether or not the box only contained oranges. It seemed an odd thing for Jolly to send and not at all worthy of a favor. As he moved oranges out of the way, he discovered an envelope in the middle of the stacks of fruit.
“A love letter?” Pierce joked as Torment opened it.
“Fuck off,” Torment growled, growing more irritated with Pierce’s teasing. He gave the envelope a shake and the contents slipped out onto the desk. Instantly, his gaze seized on a familiar face in one of the photographs.
“Fuck me,” Pierce said in a rushed breath. “Is that Terror?”
“Yes.” Torment snatched up the photo and stared at it for a few seconds before handing it to Pierce.
“Is he alive? How recent are these?”
Torment picked up a handwritten page of notes from Jolly and scanned it quickly. “She took these two days ago. He’s alive and being held in one of the abandoned mines.”
“How did she find him?”
“She was investigating the labor camps,” Torment said, reading through the notes again. “She noticed a presence at one of the abandoned mines and thought it was worth investig
ating. She has a possible contact who can help us.”
“The maps are good,” Pierce commented as he studied the maps she had included in her package. “Her notes are helpful. Distances, various routes, problem areas, civilian homes—she’s very good at recon.”
“Yes, she is,” Torment agreed, absolutely stunned that she had not only found Terror but had given them all the information they needed to rescue him.
“You sure you don’t want to Grab her?” Pierce asked, injecting needed levity in the moment. “We could use a woman like this.”
Torment frowned and ignored the little voice in his head that agreed with Pierce. This was absolutely not the time to be thinking about a mate. No, his best friend was waiting to be saved.
“Call in the rest of the team.” He spread out the maps and felt hope swell within him. “We have a rescue to plan.”
About Lolita Lopez
The alter ego of New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Roxie Rivera, I like to write super sexy romances and scorching hot erotica. I live in Texas on five acres with my husband, our two mischievous girls, a pair of Great Danes, a couple of cats and various fish.
You can find me online at www.lolitalopez.com.
Also by Lolita Lopez
GRABBED
Grabbed by Vicious
Caught by Menace
Saved by Venom
Stolen by Raze
Dragon Heat
Dead Sexy Dragon
Red Hot Dragon
Wicked Dark Dragon
Renegade Dragon
