He let out a long breath, as close to a sigh as the Raider would allow. For he knew she was right, and these stolen moments were ticking away too quickly.
“Yes.”
“Do you care? If they know?”
“Only in that it might hurt those who are separated from those they love, some forever.”
“I would have expected no less,” she said softly.
She snuggled up against him. He had pulled a layer of the blanket over them, for this passage never truly got warm. But between them, they had generated enough heat to sear him to the core.
He had known, in those rare moments when his guard was down enough to allow the thoughts to creep in, that mating with Kye would be something beyond anything he’d ever experienced.
He hadn’t known it would change him, would shift not just his thoughts but his very core. That he would become a different man, simply because now he knew he’d been missing a part of himself that only she could give him.
He knew he had made his life more difficult, that he had added yet another layer of strain and worry. But what he had gained so surpassed all that that it was barely worth thinking about. He would be afraid for her, yes, but this joy that she was finally and ever his overwhelmed even that.
Her hand slipped downward over his chest, to the raised scar that ran along his ribs. That was a souvenir of the first raid, before Brander had fashioned the lightweight, flexible armor they used now. He had no doubts now that she had meant what she’d said, that the scars, be they genuine or assumed, did not repel her. Had she not caressed every one of them, both with her fingers and later her mouth?
A shudder went through him at the memory.
“Mmm,” she murmured, and slid her hand lower.
He sucked in a breath, his belly tightening in response as his body surged to readiness with a swiftness that made the next breath near to impossible. Her fingers curled around him, her thumb creeping up to rub over the swollen tip, and what air he had left shot out of him in a gasp.
“It does not seem possible that we fit,” she whispered.
He could tell her a thing or two about how well they fit, what it felt like to be buried in her tight, welcoming flesh, but he lacked the air to do it.
Her hand slid lower yet, cupping him, and his hips jerked involuntarily, pressing himself into her palm. “Kye.” It came out through clenched teeth.
“Yes.”
It was both acknowledgment and answer and assent in one, and he surrendered all efforts at control. Soon enough, he would have to don the garb and the weight of command once more, but for now, in this moment, he would steal one more time the glorious wonder they had found.
Chapter 34
“ABOUT TIME.”
Kye knew he had to have heard the mutters as they walked into the outer quarters, but he didn’t speak. She was only certain he’d heard Pryl by the catch in his breathing before he walked on. She ignored it and walked over to the table to pour a mug of the morning brew she’d smelled the moment they’d come in. They’d agreed as they lay in the alcove that they would not flaunt this change in their relationship, especially in front of the other Sentinels. Too many had suffered great loss, and others were separated from their families and alone. He had told her what Brander had said, that no one would begrudge him, but she agreed with him that it would not be fitting to parade it.
She’d also told him she had to return home; she’d spent so much time here working on the map that she was afraid of what she might find. He would stay, to put her work into use, to map out whatever great plan he had that required such detail. He would not tell her yet, said only that there were still pieces missing, but now she was content to wait.
She made it safely; in fact, the streets seemed quite deserted tonight. And it took a great deal of effort for her to stay vigilant, when her mind kept wanting to steal back to those precious hours with Drake, when they’d discovered the incredible power of finally giving in to desires that they had suppressed for so long. The memory of touching him, of feeling him touch her, of uniting as one and setting off an explosion of heat and sensation, would stay with her forever.
A check of her little home showed nothing disturbed, and she relaxed a little. She set down her pack and pulled out the jug of lamp oil she’d managed to get hold of. She fueled up the lantern, then lit it. She barely thought anymore of the days when a mere voice command would have lit the entire house if she wished it. The power was only turned on to this sector for a couple of hours in the evening, so people could cook and bathe, and then it went dark again. But she never took advantage of that time, for she did not want there to be any sign that someone was living in this ruin. So she used this lantern, bathed in cold water, and counted it as her way of enduring what the Sentinels endured.
Then she reached back into the pack and pulled out her sketch book. In the quiet of midnight, she’d shown the two drawings to Drake, and explained how just doing the second one had led her to the truth. He’d seemed taken aback at her portrait of the Raider.
“He does not seem as fearsome as I thought.”
She’d smiled and caressed his bare cheek. “He is fearsome enough, to those who need to see him as such,” she said. “But this was drawn with love.”
It was later, when they lay once more sated in each other’s arms, that he had reluctantly said, “These cannot be kept, Kye. It is too clear, you are too adept.”
She hadn’t thought of that, but knew he was right. They could not risk anyone seeing these two portraits side by side by anyone else.
So now she took one long, last look at the drawings that had changed everything. Then she picked up the lantern and made her way to the ruined front of the building. And there, in the rubble, she burnt them both to ash.
THE SCRABBLING noise awakened her. Kye rolled out of the chair she had fallen asleep in, grabbing for her blaster as she went. She pinpointed the sound as coming from the back, near the metal plate she’d put over the single window that remained here in the back portion of what had once been her family’s home.
She crouched behind the heavy chair, her blaster braced on the arm and aimed toward the direction of the tiny sounds. More came, and she heard the sound of pebbles skittering across the pile of bombed-out rubble.
And then she heard the whisper of voices. Low, at a certain pitch . . . and familiar.
She stood up, sliding the blaster back into the holster and shoving the whole out of sight behind the pillow in the chair.
“You two make less noise when you’re not trying to be quiet, you know,” she called out.
The whispering abruptly stopped. She walked over and slid the metal plate slightly away from the window opening. And then she heard a tumble of smaller debris as two figures scrambled down the pile and tumbled into the room. They rolled, then stood, resolving into Nyx and Lux.
She put all she could muster of sternness into her expression as she put her hands on her hips and looked down at them. “What are you two doing out at this hour? And alone? And why here? And how did you know about here in the first place?”
The twins exchanged a look. Then Lux spoke, naturally choosing the easiest question to answer first. “We’ve known about this place for a long time. We followed Eirlys once when she came here.”
She didn’t miss that they’d dodged the what and why questions.
“And I don’t recall inviting you over tonight,” she said, her tone still severe. And I almost wasn’t here, because of your brother.
“We know,” Nyx said. “But we want to give you something.”
“Well, not you, exactly,” Lux put in.
“It’s for the Raider,” Nyx said.
That startled her. Warily, she eyed the duo who led Drake such an exhausting dance. And once more she realized how amazing it was, that he had kept any control of the
m at all, on top of Eirlys, and let alone doing it all while maintaining a double—and very dangerous, more dangerous than any of them—life.
I would have collapsed long ago under the strain.
“The Raider,” she said slowly. “And what makes you think I have anything to do with the Raider?”
Lux rolled her eyes. Those Ziem-blue eyes, identical to her twin’s, but darker than Drake’s clear, sky blue. “Please. We know you know people who are with him.”
She felt a rush of relief; at least they didn’t seem to think she was as well. Still, she thought it safest not to speak, to wait them out. She folded her arms across her chest, and silently looked at them.
“We’d give it to our sister,” Lux began.
Nyx then. “But Drake would be really mad—”
“If we sent her to see the Raider—”
“And he’s already mad at us for—”
“Something else,” Lux interrupted before he could confess to some other transgression.
“So you brought it to me?” Kye asked.
Nyx nodded. “He’d get mad about that, too—”
“Since he worries about you but—”
“You’re of age and so—”
“He can’t really reprimand you—”
“The way he does us.”
She nearly laughed at that, remembering the times the Raider had done just that when she’d taken some risk he thought too extreme. She had realized, finally, that that was another of the things about the Raider that had reminded her of Drake. And again she grimaced inwardly at her own slowness in grasping the truth. But Lux’s admission that Drake worried about her, and always had, took most of the sting out of it.
“So here,” Lux said, pulling a small card out of her pocket and holding it out. Kye took it, saw that it was a pass card, of the kind used to enter Coalition facilities.
“And just how did you come by this?”
“It almost fell out of a guard’s pocket,” Nyx said quickly. Too quickly.
“Almost?”
“I might have helped it a little,” he admitted. But he was grinning as he said it.
Kye tapped the card against her fingers. “I . . . appreciate your initiative, but I’m afraid without the password that goes with it, it’s not much use.”
Lux rolled her eyes. Again. “Of course not. That’s why we only took it after we had the password.”
Kye blinked. “What?”
“We overheard the big oaf complaining about having to change his password,” Nyx explained, more patient than his sister. “That’s what gave us the idea to grab his card.”
“It’s ‘sporky’,” Lux said, then sniffed in disdain. “Probably after his pet skalworm.”
She stared at them as possibilities raced through her mind. “I don’t suppose,” she said slowly, “you have any idea where this . . . oaf’s guard post is?”
Both twins grinned widely. “Barkhound’s office,” they chorused, using their derisive nickname for Barcon Ordam.
Well, now.
“But he’ll notice,” Lux warned.
“By tomorrow—”
“When he goes to use it again—”
“At six—”
“He was complaining about that, too.”
She tapped the card on her fingers again. “You know,” she said casually, “I might just know someone who might know how to get this to the Raider.”
“The whole point?” Lux suggested.
Kye laughed then. “You need to work on your diplomacy, little one.”
She was still chuckling inwardly when, the card tucked safely into her shirt, she made her way up the trail. She’d sent the twins home with a promise that she would report back on a successful delivery, and after extracting a blood oath that they would not speak of it to anyone, even their sister, who she knew was the one at home for them tonight.
She didn’t bother asking them not to tell Drake; she knew they wouldn’t for fear of getting in more trouble. Not that it mattered, since she herself would be telling him momentarily. He was going to be hard-pressed not to clamp down even tighter on the pair, and to pretend he didn’t know what he knew.
She reminded herself that once she got there, he was no longer Drake, and she must not even think of him as such for fear the name would slip out. Even in their closest moments alone, she had to hold back. And that was when it hurt the most, when she wanted to cry out his name, to declare him hers, yet she could not.
For she was stealing him just as they were stealing those moments.
Chapter 35
KYE WAS NEARLY at the ruin when another question occurred to her. And it was the first thing she asked when she got into his quarters, after going through the motions of requesting entry, as everyone had to do. A standing order she understood a lot better now, given he needed to be sure his disguise was always in place. And an order she still complied with; until they had decided what to do, she kept to the routine. And when she was in front of him in his quarters, she asked her question.
“So where did Eirlys think you were, those times when you left the twins to her?”
He didn’t seem startled by the question. Perhaps he’d gotten used to them, for she’d had a lot once she’d gotten over the initial shock. And once she’d realized he would, for the most part, answer them for her.
But he did look slightly uncomfortable.
“Where?” she repeated, truly curious now.
He grimaced. “I believe she thought I was visiting Sanguine.”
Kye’s brows shot upward. For the neighborhood of Sanguine was known for only one thing: paid companionship. Mating for hire, to put it more bluntly.
“And why,” she asked, “would she think that?”
He gave her a sideways look. “I have, in fact.”
Something made her hold back the words that leapt to her lips at that. She knew him, and knew there had to be more to this. She thought for a moment. And then smiled.
“I would guess,” she said slowly, “that the women of Sanguine sometimes hear some interesting things.”
The smile he gave her in return was payment enough for her forbearance. “Yes, they do. And they care about Ziem, more than some others I could name.”
“Barkhound comes to mind.”
“Indeed.”
“So Eirlys thought . . .”
“Yes. It seemed the only likely thing she would believe, so I let her believe it.” The grimace again. “Besides, she thought the women of Sanguine were the only ones who’d have a coward like me anyway.”
“And wouldn’t they just be pleasantly surprised?” she asked archly.
He looked so startled even the mask couldn’t hide it. And she remembered when he had offered to remove the mask when they were alone, so she would not have to look at or touch such a disfigured man.
I love you in all your forms. Have I not proven that?
Her answer had driven him a little bit wild, and when they’d withdrawn to the alcove, he’d let go of all boundaries, and driven her so wild in turn it had been all she could do not to scream with the bursting pleasure of it. Only the knowledge that there were many of the Sentinels close by had halted it. So instead, she had turned the suppressed cries into physical release, clawing at him, writhing beneath him, digging her fingers into the solid, powerful muscles of his back and shoulders until he drove deep one last time and she heard his own barely-stifled exclamation. And afterward she kissed away the blood from his lip, where he had bitten it to keep from shouting her name.
“Dear Eos, do not look at me like that, Kye. Or I will take you right here on this table.”
His voice was breathless, his jaw tight. And the shudder his words and the image they painted sent through her was fierce. And visible; she did n
othing to try and hide it. He groaned, took a step toward her. She reached for him.
Then he stopped. Swore under his breath.
“Pryl will be here in a few minutes.”
“Then I will hold that thought close. And clear the table.”
He groaned, and she saw his fists clench. It pleased her to know he felt the need as strongly as she did. It quickened her breath, and the rise and fall of her breasts, the friction of the fabric of her tunic against nipples aching for his touch, his mouth, nearly made her echo his groan.
But the thought of her tunic reminded her of what was in its hidden pocket.
“I did come for a reason,” she said.
“Is not driving me out of my mind reason enough?” he asked, his voice harsh.
“Yes,” she admitted. “Although I believe it’s only fair to point out that thoughts of you drove me mad first.”
She heard him swear again, and his jaw tightened as he turned his eyes upward as if looking for help. It may have taken him a while to let down the Raider’s barriers, but once he did, he did it wholeheartedly. And she smiled inwardly as she pulled out the card.
“I brought you this,” she said.
He gave a last shake of his head and then took it, his brow furrowing as he recognized it. “A Coalition pass card?”
“With the password.”
“How did you come by this?”
“That’s for later. The best part is who owns it.”
“Oh?”
At his raised brow she grinned. “The sentry at Barcon’s office.”
His eyes widened. His gaze shifted back to the card.
“Well, now,” he said, and only in that moment did she realize where she herself had picked up the phrase. Well, now. . . . She’d thought the exact same thing upon getting this information.
“Yes,” she agreed, still grinning.
“You know it’s not likely he has anything of use to the Sentinels in there.”
“And who cares?”
He raised a brow at her again.
“He has things he has no right to. Things he’s taken from the people of Ziem. Things he’s purloined from the dead, for Eos’s sake. Would it not be worth it for the sheer pleasure of taking whatever the pretentious blowpig does have?”
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