He might have hated himself except that matched his weakness too perfectly. Captain he might be, but that freedom could be taken from him at any moment. They didn't need the enslaving crystals to be tuned to each other's fears.
Or to want to forget—if only for the rest of the night.
With the curtains bound tight, the rasp of their rousing breath made a close cocoon of sound, and the darkness heightened every touch.
He took her as if this were his last chance. And he gave to her as if she'd asked it of him.
Not that she did. Oh, her body, her breath, even the pulse of her blood matched to his, an invisible glory burning across all his senses. The scent of her filled his being with suns and flowers and sweetness he'd forgotten to want.
She was all he wanted.
And she, who gave all of herself, now seemed to want nothing more of him.
The irony might have made him curse; the woman created to mirror a man's deepest desires asked nothing of him because 'nothing' had been exactly his desire. But tomorrow they could be dead—the ultimate nothing—and now… Now he wanted more than nothing.
But even with her l'auralya insight, how could she believe his change of heart was more than mere battle nerves when he'd never felt so certain in all his life? He could only convince her by giving her everything he had. Of course, all he had right now was his mouth, his tongue, his fingertips, the heavy heat of his body stroking into her.
She reached for him with both hands. "Corso, let me..."
"No, it's my turn." He gently pinned her hands over her head and set his lips to the silvery whorl below her ear, where the qva'avaq marked her fluttering pulse.
She arched up into him with a soft moan, a parabolic curve that brought all her most tender, fascinating, shining parts into alignment with his. He did not leap on those temptations. Captaining the Asphodel, he'd memorized the brightest stars on the sheerways charts, but he'd also discovered the wonder and adventures—not to mention riches—of the less-traveled paths, the more subtle ways, the secret courses.
No doubt, dangers too waited along the sheerways' dimmer threads, but wonder, adventures, and riches did not go to the faint of heart.
Why did he keep thinking of hearts? He let his breath feather over the gleam of her breasts. She arched higher, and her nipples peaked—binary suns twinkling with her agitated breath—but he centered his kiss just left of her breastbone, above her heart, where her skin was dark by comparison, unmarked. Untouched perhaps? He would change that.
He used all her l'auraly tricks—which weren't so tricky, mostly pure delight—to make her gasp and writhe.
"Corso..." She clutched at his shoulders.
Ah, a gasp and a writhe and the calling of his name. He was a hero. He let her pull him upright over her, his hips cradled into the junction of their bodies, his hard length centered and ready. "Do I please you, princess?"
"Unbearably." She wrapped her legs behind him, heels at his thighs, and took him to her core. He gritted his teeth and clenched every muscle to stop himself from emptying himself right then. She would have to set the rhythm since she had all but turned him to stone.
She rocked into him with another sweet moan, her arms flung carelessly wide and eyes half-closed. Watching her, he imagined every sensation she was feeling, and he swelled with the craving to push her past anything she had known.
At the rampant throb, her eyes flew open to meet his gaze. He smiled and she convulsed against him with one last gasp. She did not call his name this time, but since she had no breath, he thought his work well done. He matched her final thrusts and forgot everything as his universe compressed to just one silver star, and then blasted apart.
The desperate storm finally passed, leaving them adrift. He kissed the soft downcast arc of her long lashes as she lay sprawled across his chest, the curled fingers of her hand tucked against his neck and her unsteady gasps cooling his breast. With his arm encircling her, he traced idle circles over the lines of the qva'avaq on her bare hip.
Although he appreciated the silver map of her pleasure points, he'd already found one curve behind her knee that made her moan and wasn't shining with x-marked-the-spot precision. How many other secrets did her body hold for him? Like the sheerways, it could take a lifetime to unveil every mystery. And he hadn't truly started delving into her heart…
His circling hand stilled.
She sighed one long breath across his skin. "So quiet."
He kissed her crown. "You want explosions?"
"I meant you are quiet. And you already gave me multiple explosions." She angled her face to peer up at him. "Are you worried? You fought off the forces at L-Sept without even a ship at your disposal. This can't be worse."
"Worse?" He coughed out a rough laugh. "My superiors called me a traitor for what happened at Lasa. I refused a direct order—an illegal order in violation of sheerways edicts, human decency, and common sense, but an order nonetheless—and they shot down my ship. If I hadn't fought for the Lasans, they would have terminated me. And then my former superiors would have scorched my corpse when they fired the planet's atmo. So it's not like I had a choice."
She snaked her arm around his chest and squeezed. "That's why your freedom is so important to you, not just for you, but for the Lasans too. Yecho and Icere did well when they chose you to keep the crystal from leaving Qv'arratz…to be our hero." She emphasized the last words.
Though she'd no doubt intended the embrace to be supportive, he tensed when her fingers brushed the scars on his shoulders. "The l'auraly might want everything in the universe to be about thinking and feeling, but that was just about dying." His voice cracked. "When my squadron mates shot down my ship, I was the only one to survive planetfall. The Lasan soldier who pulled me from the wreckage and told me to fight or die was dead by the next morning. Almost everybody else was dead by the morning after that. And when the pacification program was finally deemed a corruption of sheerways edict, dozens of my former fellow officers were executed. It wasn't freedom; it was just…survival."
Despite his stiffness, she held him close. But then, she'd never flinched from his scars. "And now surviving isn't enough anymore."
Tangle it, how did she go to the heart of the matter without hesitation? He'd fought alongside the Lasans because there'd been no other option if he wanted to live; but he'd stayed for the Qv'arratzy, the l'auraly—for Benedetta—because he had to, wanted to, needed to.
Slowly, he wrapped both arms around her, completing the embrace. "No, it's not enough."
They clung to each other a moment, until she whispered, "I wish this were over. Not this," she clarified, hugging him hard. "But this threatened attack that never comes."
"It's hard to live at someone else's mercy, or lack thereof."
"And you walked away from that, didn't you? Or flew away, I suppose, in the Asphodel." She kissed the point of his shoulder where the scarring smoothed. "But it's all I have known. I thought saving Qv'arratz and the universe included saving the l'auraly. But now..."
For once, he hadn't been thinking of her l'auraly fate. But since she'd brought it up, he could think of nothing else. "Princess, I want to buy your key."
She kissed his throat. "No."
"I realize the l'auraly price is usually paid by kings and emperors and self-professed godlings, but I have the Asphodel as collateral and—"
"I said no, Corso."
The refusal went through him like a plasma flare, and his fingers clutched reflexively on her hip. "You offered before."
"And you turned me down."
A dull heat burned in his throat. "You can't have another patron on the line already."
She sighed and sat up, turning away from him as she did to pull the sheet around her—the first time she'd ever covered herself from him. "You know I don't, or I wouldn't be here with you." The swirls of the crystal around her spine shone in his peripheral vision like a distant galaxy. "But the l'auralya who offered that bargain no longer exists."
>
What was she saying? "You are right here."
She glanced over her shoulder at him, her jewel-toned eyes shadowed. "Yes."
In frustration and desperation, he reminded her, "Qv'arratz owes me for saving you."
"You haven't saved us yet." She held up one hand. "But I don't doubt you will. After all, you are an undefeated soldier, Captain Deynah."
"Captain again?" He almost choked on the words.
"It was you who spoke of payment." She rose with a faint wobble that betrayed some inner weakness and grabbed the gown she had discarded earlier. "But for all that, I think you will not try to collect."
Bitterness swept him. "You know me so well now?"
She nodded. "You fought for your own freedom as you are fighting now for ours, but more than a good soldier, you are a good man. I won't burden you with…with battles that can't be won." Her fingertips traced the inner curve of the torque where the barrier sealant preserved the facets.
So why did those sharp shining fangs feel as if they were gnawing through him?
"You think I am such a good man?" His voice broke on a harsh note. "A mercenary would hold you to what you once proposed, and shred your change of heart."
"It wasn't my heart that changed." She turned away to slip the gown over her head. The fabric skimmed down past her breasts and thighs, veiling the silvery lines where his tongue had roamed. "It's too late. For us, if not Qv'arratz. Goodbye, Captain. You are freed and needn't come back. I'm sure the final outcome will be clear to all of us by tomorrow."
He jack-knifed to his knees, careless of his nudity, and grabbed her arm to yank her back. "I'm not leaving you."
"You will eventually. You need your stars too much. And I..." With a smooth spin, she twisted out of his grip. "I didn't understand that need, but now I think I finally do."
Some wild, reckless rejection—the same that had welled in him when told to burn through an innocent planet—forced him to his feet. "You're not giving me a chance here."
"No, I didn't give you a choice. There is a difference between the two that you made clear to me. I'm sorry we forced you to come here, but I will never forget our time together. Never. I can't, because I'll never be the same again."
The soft music in her tone—like a song both tender and sorrowful—distracted him, so he was slow to react when she reached up and tugged the torque from around her neck.
Cupped between her silvery hands, the a'lurily crystal glimmered with the icy beauty of Qv'arratz's rings. She sighed and the crystal sighed back at her with a mournfulness that nearly broke his heart.
"Princess..." He took a short step toward her. "What are you doing?"
She edged back and swallowed hard, the pulse leaping in her naked throat. Red lines grooved the sides of her neck; if they survived, she'd be bruised tomorrow where the crystal circlet had resisted letting her go.
When she shifted her grip on the torque, the blunt finials disappeared, one into each clenched fist. "That is why we brought you here, after all, so we would all be free."
The muscles in her arms bunched.
"Etta, no!" Reaching for the torque, he jumped through the space she'd opened between them. With his cry still echoing, he knocked her one hand loose from the finial. The crystal, skin-warm against his fingertips, chimed a response to his voice.
But she yanked away with a hard snap.
Leaving just half an arc of crystal in his hand.
Benedetta's gasp went through him more sharply than the thousand jagged edges of qva'avaq that sliced into the meat of his palm.
The sealant had shattered, and the tiny barbs of crystal clung to his skin as he jerked back in a spray of blood. He cursed, more in shock than pain, though the sting reverberated through his nerves.
The remnant of the torque slipped out of his blood-slicked hand. It spun through the air, shining once even in the darkness.
But gravity was inevitable. The crystal fell, hit the tiles, and in a spray of scintillating light, splintered with a peal of silvery bells.
Chapter Thirteen
The half circle of crystal in Benedetta's hands crumbled to dust. She staggered, stunned—her head strangely light, as if the weight of the crystal around her neck all those years had held her down. She dropped to her knees, and the jagged shards of qva'avaq bit through the fine mesh of her gown.
"Etta!" Corso's hoarse call sounded distant through the roaring in her ears.
The room tilted. Was she falling?
No. Corso lifted her up out of the broken circle of crystal, his arms wrapped around her in a full embrace. His bleeding hand left a dark blur on her pale skin.
"It broke?" Her own voice was fuzzy. She sharpened the note. "Did it truly break?"
"It broke. Benedetta, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"I wasn't sure I could do it." She straightened unsteadily. "The crystals don't break."
He swore again as he deposited her on the bed they'd so recently enjoyed. "Why did you take it off? Why did you want to break it?" He knelt beside her and snapped open a lume stick, defying his own blackout order. "Let me see your knees."
"It's nothing."
He lifted back the hem of her gown and brushed gently at the shards of crystal speckling her skin. He winced as the sharp facets shredded his fingertips—silver shining through his blood—but he did not stop. "Benedetta..."
"I don't feel it. Not at all." Maybe she'd never feel anything again. Perhaps that was the price of shattering the qva'avaq bond. She blinked hard against the chemical glow of the light stick that left halos in her teary vision.
But the bond could never have been completed because she would not allow Corso Deynah to be compelled through crystal or tears or the looming threat of death.
It should be by his choice alone. As she'd made hers.
"Etta?" He gave her a light shake. "Talk to me. Is the crystal connected to you? Will breaking it like this hurt you?"
"I don't know."
"How can you not know?" His voice rose. "How could you break it without knowing?"
"No one's ever broken one before."
He raked one hand over his hair, leaving more bloody streaks and a few sparkling shards of crystal across his forehead. "I need to get you up to the Asphodel. Jorr can do a full scan."
"It doesn't matter now, Corso. There's nothing you can do." She pushed herself to her feet.
"Princess—" He dropped to his knees in front of her.
For a confused moment, she stared down at him. Then the roar reached her ears and a flash of hellish red outlined the door and windows. Her knees had been shaking so badly, she hadn't even felt the detonation that knocked the captain off his feet.
Corso was yelling—not at her, she realized, but at his distant crew—his hand cupped over his ear comm. "It's not the mortar drop. Wrong blast size. There's a ship up there, playing with us. Find it. I want the Asphodel in position before they contact the planet. We need negotiating space."
Benedetta struggled to focus, but all her crystal lines seemed vague and strange, like the icy dust of the planetary rings drifting outward. The qva'avaq had never felt so far away. She edged toward the door and put her hand out.
Behind her, Corso was still talking.
"Injuries unknown. First strike was aimed at the temple, but there aren't enough l'auraly here to be the target. The raiders are eliminating infrastructure, not people. Probably trying to wipe out any alternate sources of the crystal."
Benedetta laughed, a hollow sound in her ringing ears. "I got a start on that tonight, didn't I?"
Corso looked up and met her stare. "Etta, do not go out there."
She'd already begun the destruction. What could be worse? She swung open the door.
The main temple building was ablaze, the Hall of Mute Crystals a jumble of broken sticks. She couldn't tell which had taken the brunt of the strike, but flaming debris had scattered all around.
Once, a brazier had tipped over, setting a curtain afire. Yecho had rung th
e temple bells and the villagers had come at a run to fight the fire. The temple bells were melting now, and no one was coming.
Well, not entirely true. Corso charged out the door behind her, pulling her under his arm as if the width of his shoulders could keep all harm away.
But truly, though she had done the breaking, he had caused the pain, and somehow, the crack of the crystal had freed them both. She shrugged away from him and bolted across the temple grounds.
She knew he followed but at least he didn't try to stop her. Instead, he pointed across the yard. "Yecho and the girls were in there."
Side by side, they raced toward the smoldering building. She fought the sense of having lived this before, but she and Corso worked in perfect harmony to wrench open the door, swing through the smoky interior, and retrieve the disoriented old man and the terrified girls.
As they exited, Icere pelted across the yard toward them, his tablet clutched to his chest. "I saw the targeting signal and almost had a fix to hijack their code, but I couldn't deflect." Anguish deepened his voice, and Benedetta mourned the adulthood coming too fast tonight.
"We can't go back into the temple grounds," Corso was saying into his comm thread with the Asphodel. "Obviously they have the area targeted and locked. Can't head to the village either; same reason. Too obvious to launch the pod under these conditions." He tilted his head as he listened to the response from his crew. "Then that's the best we can do. Keep working on it. We'll stay low."
He glanced over at Benedetta. "We need a place—"
"L'auralya," Yecho said sharply. "Where is your key?"
She touched her neck, as if she'd forgotten. "Gone. Destroyed."
Icere gasped. "In the bombing?"
"I did it," Corso said harshly. "And the rest of us are doomed to the same fate if we don't get moving."
All the l'auraly, even Benedetta herself, started at him with mouths agape.
"He didn't do it," Benedetta corrected. "I did."
But no one was listening to her. Icere sputtered. "Why—why would you do that? How did you do that? The crystalline structure is nearly indestructible."
Hotter on the Edge Page 27
