The Edge of it All

by Jessica Grayson

  She gives me a confused look. "Why?"

  I smirk. "Because you learned from an inferior player, and I will beat you in less than five hands."

  She crosses her arms over her chest. A smile tugs at her lips. "I'd like to see you try."

  I grin. "Is that a challenge?"

  "That depends."

  "On what?"

  "What do I get if I win?"

  Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and when her small tongue darts out to lick her lips as she waits for my answer, I forget whatever response I was going to give her.

  With a sly smirk, she cocks her brow up slightly. "Well?"

  Mesmerized, I ask. "Well, what?"

  "What do I get if I win?"

  "Oh, that," I reply. I want to tell her that I wish to be her prize. I am hers to do with as she pleases. She is fierce and determined and brave. And she has bested me in combat. What male wouldn't want to be hers? "Will my undying devotion suffice?" I ask, only halfway teasing because I would give anything to be her mate.

  She laughs. "I suppose that will do."

  A slow smile curves my lips. I'll let her win every hand. "Then, I am yours...if you beat me."

  Rowan clears his throat. I was so enamored of my Ashaya I'd forgotten he and Tr'lani were still here.

  Liana smiles at him. "Want to play with us?"

  He looks back at the door a moment as if torn between playing and returning to the bridge. And when his gaze darts to mine and I give him a signal to please leave, that decides it. "I...appreciate the offer, but I think I should monitor the ship for a while."

  My brother loves kartu, and I recognize how difficult a decision this was for him to turn down the chance to play. Poor Rowan. He's a terrible player, but it's his favorite game. I decide I'll let him win every hand from now on for this favor.

  Tr'lani smiles at him. "I'll help you."

  The lovestruck grin he gives her in reply tells me he's not that sorry he'll miss out on this game. I know he relishes the time he spends with Tr'lani just as much as I do with Liana.

  Time seems to pass quickly as we play several rounds of kartu. Liana laughs heartily each time she draws a winning hand, smiling triumphantly. At first, I was letting her win, but now we’re almost evenly matched. Although she has a tendency to tease and joke, it has often been muted in the past compared to now. This is the first time I feel like I'm seeing a glimpse of the person she was before she was taken.

  "Do your people play any games like this?" I ask.

  Studying the kartu fanned out in front of her, she looks over at me. "Yeah, it's how we pass the time on long cargo runs when we're not in stasis." She looks back down to study her hand, a wide smile forming across her face. "Ah-ha!" She spreads her kartu on the table before me as her eyes light up with joy. "A full span! If we were playing strip kartu, you'd already be naked," she teases.

  Her words catch me completely off guard. "What?" I ask, wondering if I've heard her right. "What is strip kartu?"

  She laughs and gives me a small shrug. "I just made it up. On Terra, people sometimes play a game similar to kartu, where you have to strip off an item of clothing for each losing hand you play. The first person to become completely naked, loses."

  My jaw drops as I imagine her naked before me. A disturbing thought hits me, and I narrow my eyes. "Have you played strip kartu with Rowan?"

  She looks down at her hand, studying her kartu as she answers matter-of-factly. "Yes. Your brother is a really good player. I've lost to him several times."

  I freeze, and then a series of murderous thoughts fill my mind as I think on my brother, picturing him gazing at her naked form. But the instant she grins, I realize that she is only teasing, and I immediately relax.

  "Actually," she adds, "I've never played the 'strip' version of any game. But I know it's a thing some Terrans do." She slaps her kartu on the table. "Ha! I win! So that means you're all mine," she declares triumphantly.

  My heart stops. Although I know her words are in jest, the primal part of my brain responds and my body flushes with warmth as she announces her claim to me.

  "Yours," I barely manage to reply, and I watch, enchanted, as a beautiful smile lights her face.

  When she stands and her gaze darts to the door, disappointment rushes through me when I think she's going to leave. Instead, she surprises me by asking if I'd like a cup of tea.

  I nod because I want her to return to my quarters. As she disappears into the hallway, I jump up and race to the shower, cleansing and changing into soft knit pants and a sleep shirt before she returns.

  From what I've observed, her people must be obsessed with cleanliness, because she uses the shower every evening and sometimes even twice a day. Terrans must have superior scent receptors, and I do not want her to ever think that I smell bad. Because of this, I've taken to showering daily instead of every other day like I used to, buffing my scales to a fine sheen.

  Rowan complained that he only lost our sparring session yesterday because he was blinded by the brilliant light reflecting from my shimmering scales. He is simply jealous because my scales are now more attractive than his.

  When Liana returns, she sits on the small sofa beside me and hands me a cup. She takes a small sip of her tea and stares up at me over the rim. Setting it down in her lap, she leans forward. "That was fun. I haven't laughed like that in—” She stops, sadness flickering briefly across her expression before she retrains her face into an impassive mask. "A long time," she finally finishes.

  I wait patiently for her to continue, but she remains silent. Her gaze drifts to the window on the far wall, and I recognize that although she is here with me, her mind has returned to the dark thoughts that plague her.

  "Liana, what is wrong?"

  Shaking her head softly, she turns to me. "I just...I can't stop thinking about my crew. I keep wondering if they're safe, if they've found good people like you and your brother or if they're..."

  She doesn't finish her sentence, but I already know what she means to say. It is far more likely her crew are slaves, like she and Tr'lani were.

  "Sometimes, I feel guilty because despite everything...I'm happy here." Her sea-green eyes stare deep into mine. "With you."

  My heart stutters.

  Slowly, she leans forward and lifts her hand to my face. The tips of her fingers brush lightly across my cheek. Heat blooms in their wake as her eyes search mine. She touches the top of my scar, and I start to turn from her hand, but she stops me. Her gaze is full of concern. "Does it hurt?"

  "No," I reply, but that isn't entirely the truth. The pain from this scar is not a physical one. It is a reminder of all I endured during my slavery.

  She cups her hand to my cheek. "You don't have to be ashamed of your scar. You're beautiful, Soran."

  I lower my gaze, but she places two fingers under my chin to tip my head back up to her.

  A teasing grin lights her face as she arches one brow. "Would it be better if I said 'handsome' instead of 'beautiful'?"

  Tilting my chin up even more, a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I puff my chest out with pride. I've taken great care to preen myself for her, to look my best. She is appraising me just as a Mosauran female would, and I am glad she does not find my appearance lacking.

  A soft huff of air escapes her in a breathless laugh. "You're such a showoff, you know."

  I open my mouth to make a witty reply, but at just that moment, she leans in and presses her soft lips to mine. I'm so stunned, I go completely still.

  When she pulls back, a pink bloom spreads across her cheeks. She tucks a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry. I—I shouldn't have done that."

  Uncertain how to respond, I search her eyes. "I don't understand what—”

  The doors to my quarters whoosh open, revealing my brother, who has the absolute worst timing ever. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

  She stands and gives me a nervous smile. "I'll leave you two to visit."

  "Liana, wait."<
br />
  As she steps out into the hallway, she calls over her shoulder. "I'll be back to check on you later."

  Rowan gives me a puzzled look. "Is everything all right?"

  Lowering my gaze to the floor, I sigh heavily. "I do not know."

  Chapter 16

  Liana

  After what happened with Soran last night, I decide to take my bridge shift with Rowan. I glance across at him, sitting at his station. He looks so much like his brother, they could almost pass for twins.

  I turn my attention back to my display, listening intently to my headset as various ships speak to one another on the different channels. Although I don’t hear anything unusual, I’m still not sure it’s safe. “I say we continue on this course a few more hours just to be certain. What do you think?"

  "Agreed," Rowan replies, not taking his eyes off the viewscreen.

  Usually, he's really chatty when we're on the bridge like this, but not now. Today, he's all business, and I know it's because of the two A'kai ships that passed us less than an hour ago. We altered course in response. This will add an extra day to our trip to Telvo Station, but it’s better to avoid the A’kai if we can. Even with the cloak, there is still a risk they could detect our FTL signature.

  Since the mood is somber anyway, I decide to ask my burning question. "Why is Soran so sensitive about his scar?"

  Rowan gives me a hesitant look before answering. "Because that scar cost him everything."

  "What do you mean? How?"

  "He had a betrothed at the time of his capture. Maina. We all grew up together. She is the daughter of Lord Argona, who is like an uncle to us. And it only made sense to ally our Great Houses officially through bonding. Maina already called Soran her 'Chosen one.' She promised she would take no other as her mate but him. I already considered her like a sister, and I know Caryn did as well."

  "What happened?"

  "After I rescued him...as soon as we got close enough to Mosaura, he contacted her. The moment she saw him in the viewscreen, her expression faltered, and I knew." Sadness fills his expression. "I do not think he did, however, because he was surprised that she was not there to greet him when we landed."

  Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back. How horrible for him to have survived all those years thinking of her, and she wasn't even there for him when he returned home.

  Rowan continues. "When she finally arrived a few days later, Soran thought for sure she had come to claim him as her mate as they'd discussed many times before he was taken. But, to my great and utter shock, she turned her back to him and chose me instead. Challenging me to the shav-rhokan—the mating battle. I refused her, of course, but Soran was completely devastated."

  Anger fills me. "She refused him because of a scar?"

  Nodding, he lowers his gaze. "She said it would be too painful for her to look at every day. To be constantly reminded that he had been a slave."

  "That's ridiculous! She couldn't have loved him if she rejected him like that."

  "I agree. Maina is a very attractive female, desired by many. But she is also very vain. Most Mosauran females are. I do not believe she truly ever cared for him beyond his appearance. If she had, the scar would not have mattered." He pauses. "She wanted the prestige and power that would come from a formal bonding with our House, and it mattered not to her, in the end, which of us she bonded with to gain it."

  I turn to Rowan. "And...what happened to Maina? Did she—”

  Already having anticipated my question, he nods. "Although it is not the one she originally desired, she received a title anyway. She is bonded to our cousin."

  My mouth drifts open in shock and my heart breaks for Soran. I can't even imagine the pain of watching the woman you love choose someone else, all because of a scar. No wonder he's so sensitive about it.

  And I decide, in this moment, that it's my favorite thing about him. Because without it, he would already be bonded to someone else, and I would have met the man that I love too late.

  Chapter 17

  Liana

  It's only been two days since Soran was injured...and two days since I kissed him. But he hasn't mentioned it, and neither have I. My cheeks heat in embarrassment when I think of how he went completely still when I pressed my lips to his. I don't know what I was thinking. I doubt he even finds me attractive. After all, he says I look similar to a V'loryn, and his people find them appalling. He's my friend. And a good one at that. I don't want to ruin that between us by trying to initiate something he may not even want.

  His deep velvet voice snaps me back from my dark thoughts. "Shall we continue our sparring lessons?"

  I want to, but after what happened last time, I'm afraid I'm going to hurt him again. "How about we just practice the different holds instead of full-out sparring?"

  He agrees, and we go through several different movements. The problem is, one thing leads to another, and soon we're sparring when I'd originally wanted to just kind of take things easy.

  It's my fault because I'm very competitive. When I couldn't break out of that last hold, I wanted to prove to myself I could take him. So I challenged him to spar as soon as he released me.

  Breathless and panting, we circle each other a moment before he rushes me. Grabbing me from behind in the Drogev hold with his arm banded around my waist and his other hand holding my neck and chin, my back is pressed firmly against his front.

  So close to him like this, I take in his delicious masculine scent. His lips graze my ear. "The secret is to never surrender. Remember that."

  Oh, but I want to surrender right now in his arms as the sound of his rich, warm voice sends a wave of desire straight through me. The muscles tighten in the pit of my stomach, and a breathless moan escapes my lips as I lean my head back against the solid wall of his heavily muscled chest.

  And then I feel it. The swell of his long, hard length—his stav, as his people call it—pressing insistently against my backside. I know little of Mosauran anatomy, and I've often wondered if we're physically compatible, but now it seems that my concerns were unfounded.

  He lowers his head to the curve of my neck and shoulder. A warm puff of air hits my skin as he scents me, no doubt able to sense my aroused state as easily as I can sense his.

  Overwhelmed with sensation, I desperately want to touch him, but I'm still locked in the hold. "Soran, let me move, I want—”

  He drops his arms and steps back so fast I almost lose my balance. I spin to face him. "Why did you let go?”

  His silver eyes stare at me intensely. The muscles ripple just beneath the surface as he stands across from me, looking every bit like it's taking all his control just to stay away. "We should stop," he rasps.

  I don't know if he means stop sparring or stop what's potentially happening between us, but I ask the question anyway. "Why?"

  He drops his gaze to the ground. With a slight clench of his jaw, he speaks in a voice so low I barely catch it. "My mating heat approaches."

  "Your...mating heat?"

  His eyes flick back up to mine. "Yes."

  I frown. "What exactly does that mean?"

  "Our females are only fertile every three cycles. As I've explained before, that equates to roughly three of your...years." He accentuates the word "years" as if it's hard for him to wrap his tongue around it.

  "What does that have to do with anything?”

  "If a female we find attractive becomes fertile, our bodies respond by going into mating heat. We then present ourselves as suitors, hoping she will declare the shav-rhokan—the mating battle."

  His gaze travels over my form, and my jaw drops as I realize the implications of his statement.

  "Are you saying you're attracted to me?" The words come out a bit higher in pitch than I'd intended, but it's only because I can't believe this handsome draken warrior is interested in me. I don't look anything like a Mosauran female; I'm surprised he finds me desirable. While this is definitely welcome news, I'm a little bit concerned about the "matin
g battle" because it doesn't really sound all that romantic.

  He nods but doesn't say anything further.

  We stand there a moment in awkward silence before I ask, "And...you're afraid you'll mistake our sparring sessions for this 'mating battle,' am I right?"

  "Yes.” His silver eyes stare deep into mine with an edge of fire and hunger visible in their depths. "Although I know that would not be your intent, I do not trust myself to spar with you until this passes."

  Feeling bold, I take a small step toward him. "What exactly is 'the mating battle?"

  He gives me a confused look. "Do Terran females not challenge males to fight to determine if they will be a worthy mate?"

  My jaw drops. What. The. Hell. "Uh...if there's any fighting involved between Terran mates, it's usually because they're mad at each other or there's some kind of abusive situation going on."

  He cocks his head to the side. "Then how do Terran females pick their partners? How do they know a male will give them strong fledglings if she doesn't know that he can defeat her in battle?"

  A surprised laugh escapes me, but my face quickly falls when I realize he's serious. "Wait. What?" I ask, thinking I've misheard him. "Explain this shav—” I pause, trying to recall the rest of the word.

  "Rhokan," he finishes my sentence. "After the last great plague, our males outnumber our females twenty to one. When a female is interested in taking a mate—usually during her mating heat—she will challenge a group of males, or sometimes one male, by announcing shav-rhokan. If the males are interested in becoming her mate, they will fight her. Whichever male is able to defeat her, he then gives her his mark, and she accepts him into her body, and they become a mated pair."

  She accepts him into her body. His words repeat in my mind, sending another ripple of warmth down my spine to melt my core.

  His nostrils flare, and he stares at me with a hungry gaze.

  He's definitely attracted to me. That much is obvious, judging by the large bulge beneath the confines of his clothing. But does he love me like I love him, or is this just some weird biological compulsion of his species?