by Carysa Locke
Her eyes flew open. “What does that mean?”
“Only that it’s a long night, and I’m not finished.”
“Promises, promises.”
He grinned at her, and the simple laughter in his eyes made something in her chest go tight. She barely caught a gasp before it left her lips. She’d been the one to point out the connection between them, so why was she so surprised that sex had created one more bond, one more intimacy?
Mercy? Reaper’s smile had faded. He watched her now with serious eyes.
That sent a wave of sadness through her. She shoved it aside, curving her lips into a mischievous smile.
I’m just wondering how many times you’ll be able to do that.
An eyebrow lifted. Is that a challenge?
Well, women don’t have the same physical limitations men do.
He rolled on top of her, pressed her into the mattress. “Definitely a challenge. We’ll see which of us reaches our limit first then, shall we?”
She just grinned, and kissed him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Watching Reaper prepare breakfast was surreal. Mostly because she’d never imagined him as someone who spent time cooking. On the other hand, Mercy wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t just ordered up from the galley. Either way, she wasn’t going to complain when he handed her a plate of real eggs and some kind of hash that smelled divine. Not to mention the cup of genuine coffee. She sat savoring that first sip, and knew if she hadn’t already committed herself to staying here, the coffee would have convinced her. How could she ever go back to the bitter, ashy taste of the synthetic stuff again?
“How many ships do you guys take just to keep supplied in coffee?”
Reaper sipped from his own cup, his expression amused. “We don’t have to steal coffee anymore. Did you know it can grow on any world with the right climate and environmental conditions?”
She sat up in her chair. “Are you telling me you have a colony for growing coffee?”
“Several, in fact.”
“But it’s supposed to be so difficult. Just the right climate and altitude, the right seasonal temperatures and rainfall.”
He lifted his shoulders, taking another sip. “It is specific, but possible on multiple worlds. The D’veen conglomerate just doesn’t want anyone to know that, so they keep a tight regulation on the plants and crush anyone with the means and temerity to try and grow their own.”
“Those bastards!” She meant it, thinking of all the times she’d choked down the synthetic crap sold throughout the Commonwealth. Real coffee was so expensive, only the wealthy could afford it.
She eyed her cup speculatively. “So, between this and the Thalian beer, are you guys making a killing selling on the black market?”
Reaper leaned against her kitchen counter. “We have a few other investments, as well. There is a certain satisfaction in making profit off the people who exiled us and tried to wipe out our population.”
“Do you even need to take ships anymore?”
His eyes glinted dangerously. “Need? Maybe not. But there is also satisfaction in making sure the Commonwealth never forgets us.”
“I bet.” Mercy was hungry. She sat at the counter and devoured her plate. She was starting to eat larger portions. Her face was beginning to fill out as well. She’d noticed it this morning after soaking away her aches and pains in a bath full of gloriously hot water.
Her body was slowly putting weight back on, and she could recognize her own face in the mirror now. Amazing what a difference even a few short days of regular food and rest could make. Of course, Nayla’s healings probably helped, too. Even her hair looked better now. Sanah had taken the opportunity the night before to give her some nanites to regulate the length. She was almost tempted to color it too, but staring at the dark swing of hair that actually looked stylish now instead of ragged, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’d spent so many years altering the color so she could look like someone else, it was strange to look in the mirror and just see herself. Strange, but good.
They ate in companionable silence. Reaper wasn’t the most talkative at the best of times, but Mercy didn’t mind. It was good, just sharing a meal together. Not talking about her abilities, how to make them stronger, or who might be trying to kill her. It felt like all of that was distant, separate from the happiness making her smile as she swallowed more coffee. Right now, Reaper was the man she’d shared a bed with the night before. This wasn’t the first time she’d stayed with someone long enough to share breakfast, but it was close. Who knew how much fun that could be?
But as though thinking about it had allowed anxiety to pierce the bubble of optimism, Mercy felt the first doubts creep in. What happened now? Was this the start of something more? What the hell did she know about relationships? The one time she’d tried for more than just sex, it had ended disastrously. Smugglers didn’t make the best partners, especially when they had a different woman at every port, and didn’t know one of them was a telepath who could feel their lies and see their thoughts.
This situation was completely different. Reaper was different, and for the first time in her life, Mercy was able to just be herself with someone. No lies, secrets, or pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Surely that would make a difference. Assuming he even wanted this to continue.
“You’re thinking very hard.” Reaper’s voice brought the real world even closer.
Mercy fiddled with her fork. “I’m surprised you didn’t just look in my mind.”
“Your shields have improved. It would be rude to force my way past now. But if you think with enough intention, your thoughts can escape your shields. Something you should be aware of.”
“Really?” The idea that she might be making actual progress on her Talent was a bright spot. “But you could still break them?”
He considered her for a long time. Finally, he shook his head. “I might, but it would be my strength versus yours. A contest that would become painful and perhaps cause one of us injury. It isn’t worth the risk to test it.”
She cocked her head at him as she swallowed a bite of hash. “When do you think that happened? Last time we worked on it, it felt like such a failure.”
“Failure is a harsh word. Shields are something instinctive. Something you don’t have to actively think about. Most children learn how to do them as one of their first exercises in Talent. Your mother probably taught you the basics, but wasn’t able to reinforce them as you grew older. Once you learn how to maintain them, your subconscious does all of the heavy lifting for you. When we were done actively training, your mind continued to work the problem. Evidently, you figured it out.”
“That’s fantastic.”
He arched an eyebrow, sipping his coffee. Of course, now the hard work begins. With your shields in place, we can start working on your Talent.
Mercy sighed, some of her triumph deflated. Then she frowned at him. “Wait. If my shields are working, why can I still hear you?”
“Your shields guard your inner thoughts. Those you direct outward can still be heard, although you can choose who you direct them to. I can also still direct thoughts at you. You can hear them without the risk of lowering your shields.”
Now that she thought about it, she’d always been able to hear her mother, no matter how tightly shielded she was. Something inside her relaxed, as she realized she’d be able to have conversations without opening her innermost thoughts to people.
“I suddenly feel so much better about being surrounded by a bunch of mind readers.”
I can’t have you getting complacent. I heard enough of your thoughts earlier to wonder if you regret last night.
What? She froze with her fork halfway to her mouth, then put it down. “That’s not it at all. I was just wondering what the plan is.”
“Plan?”
“For us.”
Reaper leaned back. His face was as expressionless as ever, giving her no hint of what he might be thinking. Not fair.
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“Maybe it was just sex.” His tone had no inflection, either. She was starting to get irritated.
“Was it? Do you really believe that after everything we said?”
He took his time answering. Good. Maybe he was actually thinking it through.
“Most women wouldn’t want to be tied to someone like me.”
The anger drained away. She realized he was being careful to protect her, to give her an out.
“I’m not most women. I’m a queen, as everyone likes to remind me. And if your mother could handle two Killers as consorts, I think I can handle one half-Killer.”
He stood very still. She had to double check his eyes to make sure they weren’t leeching of color.
“Are you saying you’re choosing me as your first consort?” He studied her face as he spoke.
Was she? Wait. “First consort?”
“You’re a queen, Mercy. You are going to need the protection and power multiple consorts can give you.”
“I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves—”
A knock on her door interrupted them, followed by the brush of a familiar mind. Mercy stiffened. “What is he doing here?”
Reaper eyed her. “Still don’t trust him?”
She gave him a pointed look. “He’s family.”
But she opened the door for Cannon anyway. He was the king, after all.
He strode in smiling. He was dressed casually, in a dark green cotton shirt that fit him like a second skin, and the armored pants a lot of pirates wore. His hair was tied neatly back, and for once he was clean-shaven.
“Good morning.” He paused, and his smile widened. “I’m interrupting, I see. I’d apologize, but it’s important.”
Reaper handed him a cup of coffee without being asked, and Cannon took it with an appreciative nod. The pirate king glanced at Mercy over the rim as he took his first sip. There are many who won’t agree, but allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your choice.
My choice? She hadn’t relaxed since he walked into the room, and she remained tense as she watched him lean casually against her counter, making himself at home.
“Please,” Cannon said aloud. “I’m an empath, Mercy. Give me some credit. Reaper is a bold choice for your first consort. No one will expect it. Some will be threatened by it. But others will change whatever plans they had to target you, whether that means physically, psychically, or politically.” He shrugged broad shoulders, muscles flexing in his biceps. “Good move.”
Mercy set down her own empty cup with a twinge of regret. “Let me be clear: Reaper and I haven’t finished discussing where we are, and when we do, I’m sure as hell not including the rest of this ship, or the rest of the family, or anyone else, in my choices.”
Cannon chuckled, completely unrepentant. “By all means. I’m just saying perhaps you’re more politically savvy than some people have given you credit for.”
“People like you?”
“Oh, no. I wasn’t rushing to any judgments.”
Mercy glanced at Reaper, and a thread of anxiety wound through her. I didn’t sleep with you for political reasons.
I know.
Do you?
“I apologize.” Cannon’s humor had fled, and he regarded them with a serious expression. “I appear to have given you both the wrong impression. Regardless of your reasons for being together, the move will have political ramifications.” He gave Reaper a pointed look. “As you well know.”
“I have never cared about politics, Cannon.” Reaper’s voice was glacier cool. “As you know.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but anyone who is with Mercy better learn to care. She’s the queen.”
Mercy threw her hands in the air. “Enough.” She glared at Cannon. “Whatever I choose to do with Reaper is my own damn business. Everyone else can just go float themselves if they think they get a vote, or even an opinion.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Don’t fucking call me that.” Mercy crossed her arms. “You’re the king. I’m not stepping up to replace you.”
Cannon gave her a smile tinged with regret. “You may not have a choice.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, but I think that’s a conversation for another time. I came because I need to speak with Reaper, and I didn’t want to risk a telepathic conversation across the length of the ship.”
Reaper went still, and Mercy felt her anxiety increase. “What’s wrong?” She looked back and forth between them.
“I’d prefer to keep this conversation quiet. We’ve found a derelict.”
“An abandoned vessel?” Mercy didn’t see why that was a problem. Salvage rights gave anyone who came across one the right to explore a derelict and even take the ship for their own, if it was more than space junk.
But Cannon’s voice was grave, and Reaper’s stillness echoed that concern.
“It’s a scientific vessel, marked and bearing the appropriate colors. It’s just inside the boundaries of the Commonwealth, bordering the shipping lanes that run closest to fringe space.”
“A tempting target,” Reaper said.
“Exactly.”
“You think it’s a trap?” Mercy asked.
“The last time such a fat target wandered our direction so easily, it contained a virus that almost killed us all.” Cannon’s voice was bleak. “So yes, I’m suspicious.”
Reaper looked thoughtful. “Salvage is usually Mason’s operation.”
“True. But I want a larger team on this. Doc is going, as well as Sanah.”
“Dem isn’t going to like that.”
“No, which is just one of the reasons I want you to go. Having his brother along will ease some of Dem’s concerns. Having a Killer present will ease some of mine.”
Reaper nodded. “Mason’s people?”
“We’re meeting up with the Revenant in a couple of hours. Mason’s agreed to wait and go in with you. Sanah and Doc will be under your command.”
Reaper looked at Mercy. “Jaxon will stay here. And Dem will need to assign one of his dogs.”
“He said if you agreed to go, he would put Haggerty on Mercy’s detail.”
“Just how long is this going to take?” Mercy felt uneasy, thinking of Reaper being gone.
“We’re pretty deep into our territory here.” Cannon finished off his coffee, handing the cup back to Reaper. “A day, maybe two for travel. At least another for exploring the derelict.”
“Probably two or three,” Reaper said. “If we’re being cautious.”
“Which you will be.”
“So a week.” The Galactic Standard week was six days long. Mercy was surprised at the depth of disappointment she felt. A week wasn’t a particularly long time, yet she felt a chill go through her at the thought of being separated from Reaper. He made her feel safe in a way no one else did.
“I realize the timing is less than ideal.” Cannon sounded almost apologetic.
An idea occurred to Mercy. “I’ve done salvage ops before. With Wolfgang. Maybe I could—”
“Absolutely not.”
“No.”
Wow, she sent to Reaper on a private thought thread. You didn’t even let me finish.
I am not taking you back into Commonwealth space, where Veritas might be waiting. Especially given that this derelict might be no more than bait.
But you’ll risk Sanah? She told me she used to work for them. They might want her back.
They might. But we know they want you dead. My answer remains unchanged. You are safer here.
With a bomber still running around the ship?
Even with an assassin here, yes. Dem is here. Treon is here. Both of them are vigilant. You will have guards.
Angry, she pushed away from the counter. Breakfast no longer held any appeal. Even another cup of coffee wasn’t tempting.
“Mercy.” Reaper said her name aloud, drawing her gaze to him. His face was still with
out expression, but there was a glimmer of something in his eyes. Please.
Her anger softened to annoyance. I suppose that’s not a word you use often.
No, it isn’t.
She huffed out a breath, looking away. “Fine.”
Cannon clapped his hands together. “I’m glad that’s settled. Mercy, once Reaper is gone, I believe two young men are waiting eagerly to meet with you.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to protest she wasn’t in the mood to meet with anyone, when she remembered Max and Kator. She groaned, closing her eyes. Do I have to?
They are excited for direction from their new mentor. It isn’t really fair to keep them waiting long.
Reaper came around the counter. He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers in an overt show of affection that felt uncharacteristic for him. Stunned, it took Mercy a minute to rally her scattered thoughts.
You’ll be fine, Reaper told her. Amusement tugged at his mouth. “Stay busy. Stay with others. I’ll be back soon.”
She had never been one of those needy women who couldn’t function without someone else around. Her reliance on Reaper to feel secure might not be a good thing. She forced a smile. Time to pick up her independence again. “We can finish our conversation then.”
I look forward to it.
To her surprise, so did she.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Despite possible security risks, there was a part of Reaper that looked forward to the separation from Mercy. An uneasy feeling had plagued him from the moment he found her on that space station, and it had only intensified since spending the night with her. A question nagged at him. One he didn’t know how to answer.
Sanah said he had feelings for Mercy. She was an empath, and clearly one who understood Killers. But she’d never met a queen before. What if she was wrong? What if he only felt something because of the draw all queens inflicted on the Talented?
He’d been a teenager when Lilith died. He remembered her influence well enough, but his mother had shielded them from more personal contact with the queen. He’d never stood beside her, one on one, and felt the effect of her power. He couldn’t shake the idea that Mercy, however compelling he found her, was simply a queen unconsciously exerting her will over him.
