“Please.” Plix didn’t know how their faces had gotten so close, his breath warm on her face as he whispered, “For me.”
Her eyes fell closed again, the lashes brushing his cheek, and as she parted her lips to speak, she could feel the warmth of his skin.
For the first time in all these years, she felt his mouth.
His kiss.
It was chaste. Simple. Just pressure and lips, and it was everything she had ever wanted but never dared to ask for.
It was everything she couldn’t have.
Plix gave herself just a few seconds to memorize the feeling of his lips, full and soft against hers as she let her mouth open, a brief caress, damp and perfect. And then she pulled away, her palm coming up to stroke the rough plane of his cheek as she said quietly, smiling brokenly, “Of course it’s for you.”
With an ache building inside her chest, she uncurled his hands from around her face, kissing the knuckles of each just once before placing them against his heart. His glassy eyes remained on hers the entire time, his lips still parted.
Edison didn’t say anything, though. Not when she stepped back or when she placed her hand on the door. Not even when she rasped out a choked, “Goodbye.”
It wasn’t until she was almost gone, the thick plastic of the door already swinging closed, that he finally spoke. His words were muffled. Quiet.
Still, it hurt her more than she could have imagined to think that the last words he’d ever say to her would be, “For now.”
He’s racing for a prize. She’s running for her life. And they’re on a collision course.
The Farthest Shore
© 2014 Marian Perera
Eden Series, Book 3
Captain Alyster Juell is relishing the taste of his first command for the fleet of Denalay. The steamship Checkmate doesn’t carry weaponry, but that doesn’t matter. His mission is to win an ocean-crossing race—and its hefty prize.
As the voyage gets underway, Alyster hits his first snag—there’s a stowaway on board, a reporter who poked around for information about his ship the day before. And it’s too late to turn back.
Miri Tayes didn’t intend to stow away. She was forced to run for her life when a colleague discovered her secret: She can pass for normal but she’s a half-salt—daughter of a Denalait mother and a pirate father.
Despite her lack of seaworthy skills, Miri works hard to earn her keep, and Alyster, taken with her quick wit and steely nerve, falls for her. But as the race intensifies and the pirates use a kraken to hunt down Checkmate for its new technology, the truth could be the most elusive—and dangerous—prize of all.
Warning: Contains a reporter hiding a dangerous secret and the captain who’d like to strip her bare in more ways than one. Also pirates, prejudice and passion.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Farthest Shore:
Putting the lantern down, he pulled the crate’s lid off, blade at the ready.
A woman’s corpse was curled up inside. Or at least that was what it looked like until she twitched and fell still again. Alyster caught her shoulder and pushed hard to roll her face-up.
He recognized her despite the blue-grey undertone to her skin, and the half-lidded eyes that didn’t seem to see anything. He touched her throat. A pulse pressed against his fingers and didn’t return for what felt like half a minute, just like the way she’d rapped on the inside of the crate. How long had she been in there? He looked away from her face and saw the blood, clotted and dried, but still recognizably blood.
Belatedly remembering he no longer had to deal with this by himself, he yelled for help, then slapped the woman’s face lightly. “Come on, wake up.” What was her name? She’d told him, but he couldn’t remember.
Steps rattled under the impact of feet, and he shouted at whoever it was to bring Dr. Berl. The woman seemed to be breathing a little more often now, though, and the blood beneath her skin was visible where he’d smacked her. Her eyelids quivered and so did her limbs.
She was still mostly curled up in the crate, so Alyster sheathed the saber, slid his arms beneath her knees and shoulders and lifted her out. Carry her to the surgery? No, best wait until Reveka made sure it was safe to move her. He laid her on the floor instead, and her eyes opened fully.
“Can you hear me?” he said.
Her lips moved, though her voice was so quiet he had to lean down to hear. “’m s-sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Sorry I…scared you.”
Alyster drew back, not sure what to say, but no reply seemed to be called for as the woman’s eyes went wide. With a whimper she doubled over, face to the floor. The sound turned to a muffled keen, and he guessed she was feeling blood flow back into limbs held cramped and motionless for too long. Risking her life and going through that much pain seemed rather drastic measures to take just to report back to the Endworld Beacon about his ship.
The sound stopped, and she worked a trembling arm beneath her, but before she could lift herself off the floor, Reveka came clattering down the stairs. Alyster stepped aside for her.
“I found her in this crate,” he said as he replaced the lid.
Reveka went to her knees beside the woman—now he remembered her name, Miri—and took a wrist between her fingers, her other hand snapping open the lid of a pocket watch with practiced ease. Unity, Alyster thought, everyone has a watch these days.
The woman’s damp hair hung down lankly, hiding her face, but the questions in Reveka’s eyes were only too clear when she finally put the watch away. Alyster shrugged.
“She’s from Endworld,” he said, “and she was asking questions about the ship yesterday, but that’s all I know.” A handful of the off-duty crew had crowded into the hold to gape, so Alyster leveled a look at them until they began to shuffle out. “Dunvin, make yourself useful and get some hot water,” he said, and told Reveka he would fetch some rum.
He didn’t know if that was medically advisable for the woman, but he could certainly use it now that the surprise of his discovery had worn off. By the time he returned, Reveka was inspecting a gash on Miri’s arm. Nasty. He would have distrusted a small scratch, but that looked like the kind of injury which resulted from blocking a blade.
“How did you get that?” he said.
Miri licked her lips. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse and dry, but quite intelligible.
“A man tried to kill me,” she said.
Oh, that was one for the logbook all right. Alyster said nothing more as Dunvin came in with a steaming jug, while Reveka produced a pair of shears and cut away Miri’s sleeve. He uncorked the bottle of rum and held it up, but Reveka shook her head.
Before this voyage is over, we might all have learned to speak without saying a word. He offered Miri the bottle.
“What is that?” She didn’t look at all enthusiastic.
“One of the best from Varland Distilleries. They call it Admiral’s Blood.” He held it out. “It’ll make you feel better, trust me.”
She swallowed a mouthful and grimaced, but there was color in her lips now. Reveka cleaned the wound with hot water, while Alyster took the bottle back and sipped, feeling the warmth of the deep green glass where Miri’s mouth had been. She looked a little more alive now, and the muscles in her face relaxed slowly as Reveka bandaged her arm.
“Any instructions for your patient before I take over?” he said, recorking the bottle. Reveka shook her head again, slipped rags and shears into her pockets and began to rise.
“Wait.” Miri started to put a hand on Reveka’s arm, then seemed to think better of it. Her voice was still throaty, but now that was probably the effect of the strongest rum on board rather than of near-suffocation. “Thank you for your help. I’m Miri Tayes.”
“She’s the ship’s physician,” Alyster said. “Dr. Reveka Berl.”
; Miri blinked. “Doesn’t she speak?”
“When she has something important to say.” He reached down to help Miri up, thinking it was almost a tradition that fleet doctors were brilliant eccentrics. Reveka left as Miri clutched his hand tightly and got to her feet, swaying as she let go.
He took her condition in with a single look. Nothing but limes and straw had been in the crate, so obviously she hadn’t brought any extra clothes, and the ones she wore were not just torn but filthy. His first priority, though, was to make sure she wasn’t a threat to the ship.
If she was? Checkmate was so stripped down for speed that she didn’t have a brig. Well, he’d cross that strait when he came to it.
“Let’s go.” He picked up the lantern and allowed her to precede him out—not so much from courtesy as from caution that wouldn’t allow him to turn his back to anyone he didn’t trust. It took her a little while to climb the stairs, but while she looked wobbly on her feet, she didn’t fall. Alyster wondered if she was hungry. If her story passed muster, he’d send for food.
He directed her through the narrow corridor that led to the officers’ quarters in the stern and the captain’s cabin at the very end, a suite consisting of a tiny bedroom and a slightly larger cross between a dining room and a study. That was a good enough place to question her, so he pulled out a chair and she sank into it as if the journey had taken the last of her strength. Alyster locked the bottle of rum away. No need for the lantern now the windows admitted plenty of sunlight, making Miri look even more draggled and weary.
Except for her eyes. The lids were swollen, but the alert look was back. And the hollows around her eyes made them seem larger, like pools in autumn, brown leaves and water.
He steered his thoughts away from that distraction. He had to question her while she was at a low ebb, and there would never be a better time to begin. Drawing another chair out, he sat down facing her.
“What exactly are you doing on my ship?” he said.
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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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A Hero for the Empire
Copyright © 2014 by Christina Westcott
ISBN: 978-1-61922-354-7
Edited by Jessica Corra
Cover by Kanaxa
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: October 2014
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A Hero for the Empire: The Dragon's Bidding, Book 1 Page 33
