by Natalie Grey
Interesting. Talon barely noted the attack coming from behind him, or his own instinctive response. As his fist shot out, catching his attacker across the jaw and snapping his neck sideways, Talon’s eyes met Tera’s and he saw a kinship there. She was just as furious to see lesser fighters mobbing them, and she moved with the same predatory elegance as a Dragon.
She’s one of us. The thought was unmistakable. She belonged here, in the Corps, defending justice. Honor was in every movement. When she took a knee, leveling the gun to fire at those still swarming over the barrier, she chose her position to defend Loki and Talon.
“I’ll cover you!” She called the words over her shoulder. “Get him out, get pressure on his stomach.”
“I have the armor.” Talon skidded to his knees beside her. “I’ll draw their fire, you go.”
For a moment their faces hovered only an inch apart, but she did not hesitate to obey him. The suggestion made sense, and if he was doing it as much to protect her as to be sensible … she did not have to know that. She pulled Loki away and behind one of the crates nearby, stripping off her own shirt to wad into the hole in his armor. He could see her leaning close to speak to the man, their skin shining the same warm brown in the dim light, Loki’s lips moving faintly in answer to her question. She smiled at him, reassuringly, and then she took his weapon and took up position to fire with one hand as the other pressed the bandage into place.
“Everybody drop your weapons.” The voice boomed through the ship. The mercenaries must have hacked the comms, damn them. “Miss Soras, are you safe?”
“No,” Tera called back. “Your mercenaries keep shooting at me.”
Talon felt the corner of his mouth twitch.
“What is the meaning of this?” The captain’s voice was tight and annoyed.
“She’s shooting at us!” one of the mercenaries called, and Talon stifled a snort of laughter at the man’s aggrieved tone. He’d warned them. They should have listened.
“Miss Soras, what happened to your escort?”
“I killed them,” Tera said simply. She did not waver; her targeting laser danced on the smoke that obscured the airlock.
There was a silence.
“And I’ll kill every last one of you,” Tera said, her voice strong enough to be picked up by the comm receivers, “if you keep insisting on trying to take me back.”
“Miss Soras, we are here to help you.”
“No, you’re not.” Her voice was low. “You’re here to take me back, and you should never have been foolish enough to think that I would tip the scales in your favor for this fight. But it’s worse than that for you, because I’m on their side now. So you know what you should do? You should get the hell off this ship and run while you still can. Because maybe those Alliance destroyers will come to help you. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? They’ll come take down the renegade Dragons?”
She threw her challenge into the air and waited, and when there was no response, Talon saw a cruel smile curve across her face. They knew the truth, but she spoke it anyway: “By the time they get here, you’ll already be dead—or they’ll just fire on both ships.”
They ran, not even waiting for the last few members of their crew stranded on the Ariane. The airlock door slammed shut and Talon closed his eyes against the echo of gunfire. It was a last, desperate stand by soldiers who had gotten in over their heads—who didn’t realize that the Dragons might have spared them now. They had deserved better from their commanders.
It was Sphinx and Jester who arrived first and were sent running for a stretcher. They carried Loki away with Tera’s overshirt still lying on his armor, bloodstained, and Talon watched her touch Loki’s hand, murmuring something as he was carried away.
“What did you tell him?”
“That he’ll be all right.” She turned to look at him, and her eyes were startlingly flat. “He will, you know,” she clarified, seeing that Talon thought it was only a platitude. “The bullet didn’t hit anything that will cause too much damage. That’s why I told him he’ll be fine.”
The laugh welled up from somewhere untouched by combat, and Talon’s chest shook with it.
“What?”
“Just … you.” He couldn’t stop his smile. He felt it fade, his gaze locked on hers. “Everything about you.” The words came out before he could stop himself.
She blinked at him, suddenly somber. Her eyes were wide and those full lips parted slightly as her gaze darted over his face, took in the pulse beating quickly at his neck, his hands on his rifle, the bulk of his armor. She was wearing an undershirt and her pants and boots, but she might as well have been naked next to him and his layers.
“You could have gone with them, you know.” His eyes searched hers. “Taken him out on your own.”
From the startled look she gave him, she hadn’t even thought of that. She looked away, and her gaze lighted on the two mercenaries on the stairs.
Then she said, quietly, “I think my test of loyalty would have involved killing you.”
“If I have to die for this—”
She cut him off with a look, her eyes blazing. She didn’t need to say the words. I could never do that.
“Captain, looks like there was no damage to the hull.” Tersi’s voice startled them, coming from a scant few yards away. “Should I take us out of here?”
“Yes.” Talon looked away from Tera’s face, but the curve of her chin and the long line of her neck were seared into his mind. He hardly saw the Dragon before him. “The ship’s clear?”
“Yes.” Tersi grimaced. “They … fought to the end.”
“Not your fault,” Talon told him softly. They both knew it, but it helped to hear it from someone else’s mouth. Tersi nodded and turned to make his way back to the cockpit, his steps slow and weary with the aftermath of battle.
Talon should feel it, too: the sudden drop in energy that could be staved off only temporarily, and only with routine and constant motion. But his body was still flooded with adrenaline, and he did not need to wonder why. As Tersi disappeared around the corner and Tera opened her mouth to speak, Talon stepped forward and caught her to him in one fluid movement, his mouth coming down on hers.
22
Somewhere, dimly, it occurred to Tera that this was precisely the wrong thing to do. There was a split-second before her arms came up to wrap around him, a hesitation born of habitual caution and the sense that while she might once have considered seducing Talon for the advantage it would bring, she was far too muddled now to know what effect it would have on her.
She found that she didn’t care. Her body pressed up against his armor, the rifle between them and the smell of sweat and carbon on both of them, the telltales of combat. When her hands moved, it was to tear at the fastenings on his bulletproof vest. She heard him click the safety on the rifle and he gave a muttered oath as he threw it; she laughed against his mouth but neither of them broke the kiss.
He started trying to undress her, too, but it was clear to both of them that his clothing would take much longer. The vest came off over his shoulders and he pulled at his belt while she yanked the zipper down on his shirt and tried to push it down over arms that were still moving. Their fingers tangled, hands moving back to each others’ faces and Tera arching to be close to the body she could truly feel now.
Talon stripped the shirt off and pulled his undershirt over his head. She stood transfixed, watching the dim light play over his muscles; the reality of the fight faded away and there was nothing but each other, those callused fingertips drawing the hem of her undershirt up as well, and over her head. He kissed her again before stripping her bra off, and then she was against him again, standing on tiptoe to pull him down—she might be tall, but he was still in combat boots.
They landed against the wall with a clang that made them both freeze, lips a bare millimeter apart and heads ever so slightly turned to listen for the sound of approaching feet. But no one came and she pulled him back, lip
s moving against his, his hand braced above them on the inner surface of the hull.
Something about them being here, pressed up against the wall, seemed to amuse him. He grinned down at her and she answered the smile, shaking her head in a wordless question.
“Up against a wall,” he murmured in answer, and, realizing that wasn’t enough: “I’ve been thinking about this. Lately.”
The thought brought a rush of heat and she tipped her head back as his lips quested down over her throat, other arm wrapping against her waist to hold her to him even as she clutched him close as well, nails scoring his back. Neither of them asked if the other wanted this; they did not need to. She could feel the desire taut in his body and she knew the press of her fingers and the arch of her back said the same to him.
She did not know what to do next. In truth, she had never wanted anyone in her life, though she had gone through the motions once or twice before, just to see what the fuss was all about. Her conclusion, up until now, had been that these things weren’t at all worth the energy people put into them.
She was beginning to revise that opinion now, and oddly, she felt a thrill of something that seemed to be fear. What had before seemed to be an overly fraught process involving too many elbows was nonetheless simpler than this. Her body knew what to do—in fact, she didn’t seem to be able to control it at all. She was awash in sensation, her mind narrowed to encompass the present moment and nothing more at all.
How had this happened?
But she knew. She had been intrigued from the first moment she saw him, striding into the darkened cargo bay of Akintola Station with a confidence that said he knew it was all a trap, and God have mercy on the ones who had set it. She had known then that he was different, but it was combat that had shown her how, ease and certainty in his movements, a grace that hinted, somehow, at humor. The way he moved, from that first instant, told her that he lived alone in his mind, content to be so, never expecting anyone to join him.
Just like she did.
His lips found hers again now and one hand fumbled at the fastening of her pants while her fingers fought the buttons on his. Boots were a problem, eliciting a laugh and kicks that sent the heavy shoes clanging along the metal walkway, but their laughter faded when they were in each other’s arms again.
He laid her out on the floor, on his clothes, holding himself above her easily. His eyes asked the question, and her hips answered. She closed her eyes when he slid inside her. This. This was different. The way she responded to his touch should have warned her, but there was no warning her about this. She clung to him as he moved, and wondered how her body knew what to do.
It wasn’t gentle. It didn’t need to be. Tera felt her breath come quicker, matching his urgency and holding him close as tension built in his body. His breath was ragged, stirring the strands of her hair that had escaped their neat bun, and she lifted one hand to trail along his face, watching him wonderingly.
“I’m—” He bit the word off, hands clenching where he braced himself on the floor so as not to crush her.
“What?” She kissed him.
“I’m going to—” Again, he swallowed hard. Green eyes glittered, and his smile made her catch her breath. “Tell me you’re close.”
“Close to what?”
It was the wrong question. He stopped, all at once, his eyes locked on hers.
What did I say? Tera wanted to whisper, and somehow, she didn’t dare. She would have described herself as fearless before now, but this simple question seemed too dangerous to let out of her mouth.
But his lips curved. “I’ll show you,” he said. It was not the low growl of his voice she had heard in the sparring ring, the promise that sent shivers up her spine. It was sweet; it made tears come to her eyes for no reason she could think of.
He waited for her to nod and then he began to move again, slowly. His lips were on hers. One hand cupped protectively around the back of her head, holding it away from the cold metal of the floor, and Tera trailed her fingers down his back to feel his muscles work. He kept his breathing slow, and she knew it cost him and she wondered why he was doing this—any of it.
The answer built slowly, so that she did not even notice it at first. Desire coiled hot and sweet between her legs and her hips increased the tempo, hands clutching at his hips to pull him close. This time it was her breath she could hear catching, and her eyes drifted closed as she gave herself up to it. She felt a spark of fear, not knowing what was coming, and he saw it in her eyes and kissed it away. He smiled, and now it was that smile of humor and promise that made her heart turn over, and his hand captured one of hers and brought it between her legs, guiding it until she found the place that made her arch.
Everything was different with desire. Sensation, perception, time. And all of it shattered the next moment, her in his arms and her lips forming his name silently as she went over the edge. A moment later, she felt his breath catch and he buried his face in her shoulder, driving into her hard as she wrapped her legs around his waist and bit her lip to keep from screaming.
They lay together in silence, after. He leaned his forehead against hers and she trembled in his arms. When she gathered the courage to open her eyes, she found him watching her. He smiled—it was a question, and she kissed him in answer before curling her head forward to hide against his shoulder. She had too many questions of her own, and he could not answer any of them. Would it have been like this with anyone else? She did not think so, and that unsettled her, suggested that perhaps he meant more to her than he should. That she did not want to leave.
But reason returned. She could feel the press of her head against his hand and the way his bulletproof vest had folded beneath them. It occurred to her just how ridiculous this must look, the two of them tangled on this floor together, and she saw the answering flash of humor in his eyes.
She looked away at once. She did not want to share this with him; she did not want them to smile at unspoken jokes. She felt him hesitate, and then draw away. He helped her up, a gesture that seemed absurdly out of place, and they dressed quickly, silently. Neither of them laughed.
When it came time to leave, they paused. To go left would be to return to the brig, to a world that had seemed complicated right up until about a half an hour ago, but—Tera realized now—had been blessedly simple. To turn to the right would be to go toward the bridge or the mess, to see the other soldiers. To join the crew.
She turned left, and he followed.
23
“Here.” Talon dumped the body down inelegantly and grimaced. He took the time to straighten the limbs. What it mattered, he did not know; the bodies would shortly be in space, no longer arranged in neat rows. In naval tradition, they would be given to the deep.
No one on earth, he reflected wryly, had the first idea of The Deep.
He paused, his hands reaching for another body, and Nyx looked up from where she was writing her report. Her hands were stained with blood from where she had pulled each set of dog tags out of the body bags to examine them and write the names down carefully. Now she frowned at him, as if a momentary hesitation meant anything when she was surrounded by bodies.
“If I die, bring me back to a planet to bury me,” Talon said finally. He swallowed.
“Any particular planet?” Nyx raised her eyebrows and watched him go back to work.
He laid out two more bodies before he could speak without his voice wavering. “Doesn’t matter which. Just not here, like this.” He crouched by one of the last bodies that had been dragged down to the doorway, and looked over his shoulder at her. “It just scares the hell out of me, that’s all.”
“The dark, or the deep?” It was said as a joke, but he knew it wasn’t one. She put her pen down and looked over at him steadily, moving back to give him room for the next body.
“The deep,” he said, after thinking about it. “You could get lost out there. And don’t bother telling me I’d already be dead.”
“I wouldn�
��t do that,” she said seriously. She wrote down the penultimate name and waited for him to bring the last body. He saw the flicker of sadness in her eyes while she looked down at the young man. His features were similar enough to Loki’s that both of them looked instinctively toward the med bay, where their comrade was lying in a drugged sleep. But the similarity was fleeting; Nyx took note of his name and zipped the body bag back up.
He waited awkwardly while she prayed. It was not a thing they were required to do, but from their first missions together, he had watched her pray like this, and everyone in the crew had decided without speaking of it that she would attend to the bodies.
Why Talon remained, he was not sure. He had not been raised in faith, and had never felt the need to seek it out. At times like these, though, he was keenly aware of how it comforted others, and he felt a vague discomfort, the human sensation of not knowing quite what to do, of sensing that one’s sympathy is not nearly enough to compensate for what has happened. He watched Nyx’s lips form words in English, in Hebrew, in Arabic.
When she stood at last, she made no move to leave.
“You can say it if you want,” she offered. “Whatever it is that’s troubling you..”
For a moment, absurdly, he thought she meant that he could admit what had happened between him and Tera. But something stopped him.
“Is it Loki?” she asked, and he understood.
“Your rib isn’t getting any better,” he said as a not-quite-answer, watching her wince while she walked toward him.
“I’ll get help when the Warlord is gone,” she said simply.
“Ribs can kill you,” he reminded her, his voice flat. “And I can’t lose any of you.”
Once, he would have said he couldn’t afford to lose any of them. He saw her note the difference with the faintest flicker in her eyes. “Are you having doubts?”
