Her mouth had gone dry, so she nodded and raised the glass to her lips. The cool, slightly spicy liquid spread across her tongue, soothing her mouth, then warming her belly. “This might not be so uncomfortable for me if I knew more about you.” She was curious about him, but it was also a stall tactic.
She hated feeling this vulnerable. She was a strong, independent woman who frequently rushed into danger in pursuit of a fascinating story. Yet faced with a sexually confident man, she turned into a blushing schoolgirl. It was exasperating.
“What would you like to know?” He swept his arm toward the sofa. It was silver and black, small for a couch, yet larger than a loveseat.
She sat at one end, her back pressed against the armrest, one leg bent across the seat. The position allowed her to face him without craning her neck. It also created a barrier between them. “Tell me about your family. Are your parents still alive? You said their story was unusual. Are they still together?” That seemed unlikely, but his reaction earlier made her ask.
His expression grew dark and memories shadowed his gaze. “It’s hard to imagine, I know, but they fell in love during her captivity. He was never cruel to her, never abusive.”
“He kidnapped her, held her against her will.” She didn’t want to start a fight, but she couldn’t just let that slide.
“He offered to return her to her family long before my brother was born. She chose to stay with him, and they’re together to this day.”
“Humans call that Stockholm Syndrome.” Collateral damage was the element of war Lexie had always found most intolerable, and war brides were the perfect example of the innocent suffering for the needs of the many.
“There are two sides to every story,” he cautioned. “You can’t judge my father until you understand the circumstances that surrounded him at the time.”
“So enlighten me.” Challenge snapped through the phrase, so she softened her tone as she added, “Help me understand.”
He started to speak, then took a sip of wine. “Perhaps another time.”
Clearly he was finished with the topic, but she couldn’t quite let it go. “If their marriage is happy, why do you look so sad?”
“I was thinking about Arton, my oldest brother.” The admission was quiet and filled with pain.
“You have three brothers? But only two are on my list.”
“Arton isn’t battle born, and he has passed beyond.”
“Oh.” Now she felt like an insensitive idiot. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” When he just stared across the room in silence, she asked, “Are you able to talk about him, or is it still too painful?”
“He… It’s a long involved story. Let’s talk about something else.”
She squelched her curiosity with great effort. This conversation was supposed to ease the tension between them, not create more. “All right. Can you tell me about the other two?”
His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared as he shifted his gaze back to her. “Why do you want to know about them?”
Easily guessing the source of his annoyance, she smiled. “I want to know how they interact with you, not how they would react to me.”
He rested his glass on one knee and stretched his other arm out along the sofa’s back. “Sedrik is also older. He’s very accomplished, but he’s military to the core. Everything is black-and-white with Sedrik. He follows every rule and expects everyone else to do the same. You’d drive each other crazy.”
She rolled her eyes and took a sip of wine. “That’s not why I asked about your brothers. I’m just trying to get a clearer picture of you.”
After a moment, and another sip of wine, he seemed to relax. “I’m much closer with Dakar than I am with Sedrik. When we were boys, we’d plot together and come up with pranks that infuriated Sedrik. Nothing amused us more than watching him go off and knowing we’d get away with it.”
“Why did you get away with tormenting your brother? Didn’t your parents intervene?”
“Sedrik was Father’s favorite. They’re so alike it’s frightening. So Father ordered Sedrik to keep us out of trouble. If he reported our misbehavior to our parents, he would have admitted a failure to Father. There was no way Sedrik was going to do that, so he put up with our pranks for a while, then found clever ways of paying us back.”
Fascinated by the glimpse into his past, she said, “Give me an example.”
A reluctant smile parted Kaden’s lips and his expression turned distant as he sorted through memories. “Everything was what you’d expect while we were young. Fake spiders and rubber snakes, exploding slime balls and fart triggers, but the pranks became more sophisticated and more elaborate as we grew older.” His smile broadened and mischief made his eyes shine. “Sedrik has always been an overachiever. He graduated at the top of his class, so he was asked to give a speech at graduation.”
She found herself smiling too. “What did you do?”
“We programed glitches into Sedrik’s com-bots. Every time he said future the audience heard fucktard, motivation came out moron, and so on. We had the audience roaring, but my stubborn big brother stood there and delivered the entire speech as if nothing were wrong.”
“That’s so cruel.” Despite her objection, she was laughing. “How did he get you back?”
“He didn’t have to that time. Mom and Dad were there and knew exactly who to blame. Dakar and I spent one miserable summer with nothing to do but read.”
“Was it worth it?”
After a short pause he grinned. “Oh yeah. Just thinking about it still makes me laugh.”
“Did Sedrik forgive you?”
“Eventually.” He drained his glass, then set it aside. “Is Libby your only sibling?”
She shook her head. “There are three of us, all female.” A faint smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Dad was obsessed with the American Revolution. Our names are Lexington, Concord and Liberty; better known as Lexie, Connie, and Libby.”
“I understand why your father chose Liberty, but what’s the significance of the other two names?”
Her smile broadened. It felt wonderful just to sit and talk with an attractive man. “Lexington and Concord were the locations of the first two battles in our war for independence. That’s where it all started for America.”
“Our battle for independence has just begun.” He paused and the distance between them seemed to shrink. She could almost feel his mouth moving over hers and his hands exploring her body. Just before the silence became uncomfortable, he asked, “Then you’re the eldest?”
With a firm mental shake, she returned her attention to the conversation. “Yes. It’s me then Connie, then Libby. I’m a typical first child.”
“What typifies an eldest child?”
“The first child in a family tends to be goal orientated and self-sufficient. The parents are focused on the younger children, so the first child learns how to do for themselves.”
He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Sedrik fits this profile.”
“But Sedrik is a second son,” she pointed out, then cringed. She had no idea how long Arton had been dead and Kaden had made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it anyway. But the damage was done. Why not probe a little deeper? “Was Arton…not around when you were growing up?”
“Sedrik, Dakar, and me were educated and trained with the military in mind. That’s the usual course for battle born sons. Arton wasn’t battle born, so his situation was different.” He paused, and she thought that was all he’d say. But then he continued, “Have you heard of harbingers? I can’t remember if Garin’s messages mentioned them or not.”
“If they did, I’ve forgotten. What’s a harbinger?”
“Harbingers are Rodytes who are either born with or genetically engineered to have prophetic abilities. The genetic anomaly that gives them their power also creates a very distinct coloring, so anyone born with silver hair and silver phitons in blue eyes becomes the property of Harbinger Guild.”
; “Property?” She gasped softly, unable to hide her disapproval. “Do you mean that literally?”
“They use less offensive terminology, but the end result is the same. Harbinger Guild has the legal right to take an infant away from his or her parents regardless of their willingness to surrender the child.”
The situation he described was bad enough, but the grief in his tone tore at Lexie’s heart. “Was Arton taken from your father? How long does this Harbinger Guild keep the children they steal?”
“Most harbingers remain at the academy until they’re assigned their first master, but Father rescued Arton before that could happen.” His voice broke and he paused to swallow before continuing the heartrending tale. “Unfortunately, Arton’s potential was staggering, so the harbingers didn’t give him up without a fight. Arton had to be moved continually until he was old enough, and strong enough, to defend himself. We seldom saw him and were never allowed to know his exact location.”
For a tense moment she just shook her head. Arton had been a captive to madmen during his childhood, and his adolescence had been spent as a fugitive, continually on the run. That was no life for anyone, much less a child. But that was where the heartache began. His parents must have been terrified for him every day of his life. And his brothers. She couldn’t even imagine how horrible it would have been to know their brother was being hunted. Or did they even know him well enough to care?
“Could you communicate with him?” she asked carefully. “How often were you allowed to visit him?”
“Messages were tricky and increased the risk of his discovery, so we attempted to contact him less often as the years went by. Visits were the same. Mother was determined to foster closeness between Arton and the rest of us, but Arton was so distant, and so distrustful. It was hard to keep reaching out when our hands were slapped harder each time we did.” He stared past her for a long time, lost in memories. “That’s why Sedrik seems like a first-born son. Harbinger Guild destroyed Arton.”
“That’s horrible.” The words were so inadequate, so pathetic compared to Kaden’s pain. She’d insisted on this sharing, but now she didn’t know what to say. “Why do the Rodyte authorities allow such things to happen?”
“The Rodyte authority that sanctioned such practices is now locked in a detention cell aboard the Destroyer.” An unapologetic smirk curved his lips before he regained control of his expression.
She’d already darkened his mood, so she asked the final question. “How long ago did Arton die, and how did it happen?”
“Eight years and we were never told the details. We just received a ‘we regret to inform you your loved one has passed beyond’ com and that was that.”
That was that? If a child of hers had died, she would have demanded proof as well as detailed information. But she wasn’t Rodyte. Clearly things were done differently on Kaden’s homeworld—which was why the battle born were fighting so hard to make changes.
He took a deep breath, seeming to purge his mind of the past. “Enough about my brothers. We were talking about your sisters. You’re the eldest, a typical first child.”
She nodded. “Connie’s next, but she’s not a typical middle child. She’s always been focused, ambitious and content regardless of her circumstances. She just seemed to flow with whatever comes her way.”
“Why is that atypical of middle children? How do they usually behave?”
He was a middle child, so she chose her words carefully. “According to some, rebellion is common among middle children. They often behave badly in an attempt to draw the attention of others.”
“That describes Dakar, not me.”
She tried to hide her smile, but failed. He sounded genuinely insulted. “I guess the stereotypes only apply to human children.” His discontent was so adorable, she couldn’t stop smiling. Then guilt wiped the smile from her face. How could she sit here flirting with Kaden while Libby was being abused on the Relentless?
He reached over and squeezed her hand. “We’ll get her back. I promise.”
“You can’t promise something you don’t control.”
“You’re right.” He sighed, but his hand lingered over hers. “I’ll do everything in my power to get her back. Is that a promise you can accept?”
Emotion tightened her throat and stung her eyes, so she just nodded.
“Come here.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her across the sofa until she was nestled against his side. “Tell me about her.”
She wasn’t sure if talking about it was making things better or worse, but she’d ignored her emotions for far too long already. “Libby is light and bubbly, like champagne, but easily persuaded to do things she shouldn’t. She always means well, but this isn’t the first time I’ve had to run to her rescue.”
“Why is protecting Libby your responsibility? Are your parents still alive?”
As she feared, a lump formed in her throat and tears gathered behind her lashes. She had to swallow hard before she could speak. “We lost them both to a drunk driver when I was seventeen. Libby had just turned twelve and she took it hardest. It shattered her sense of security. She’s learned to cope with the pain, but it changed her. It changed all of us.”
He carefully pulled the band off her pony tail, then finger-combed the thick tresses. “Seventeen is still very young to lose one’s parents.” His hand stroked down her hair, the gesture surprisingly tender. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“I was always mature for my age, while Libby was—and still is—rather young for hers.”
He shifted his arm from the sofa’s back and rested it on her shoulders. “Who cared for you after the accident?”
She knew he was using her past to distract her, or at least that was what he was trying to do. Awareness buzzed through her with each new intimacy. “Our paternal grandmother did her best, but her health was failing. By the time I turned twenty-one, Gramma was gone too.”
“So you became guardian to Libby and Connie?” She nodded and he gave her a gentle squeeze. “At twenty-one you took on the responsibility of two grieving teenagers. That couldn’t have been easy.”
The heat from his big body gradually sank through her clothes, making it hard to concentrate on the past. “It wasn’t that bad. Connie was eighteen. All she needed was a place to stay and the occasional pep talk. And Libby wasn’t a sneak out in the middle of the night sort of teenager. She just has a hard time making good decisions.”
“So you’re her conscience.”
“In a way.” She didn’t want to think about her sisters anymore. There was nothing else they could do for Libby until Rex Dravon returned, so focusing on the situation just tied Lexie in knots. “Libby will be twenty-one next month, so my parenting days are basically over.”
He brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles, his gaze warm and engaging. “You’ll never stop worrying about her. I have a younger brother. I know how it feels.”
She finished her wine and handed him the glass. He set it on the end table next to his. “I can’t think about her anymore right now. It’s too upsetting.” It was an invitation and she knew it, hoped he’d act upon it. The simmering heat was driving her crazy.
Pushing his fingers into her hair, he tilted her face up with his thumb. “I’m going to mark you, but that’s all I’ll do. You don’t need to worry that I’ll pressure you for more.”
Oddly enough that wasn’t what worried her. She was afraid she wouldn’t want him to stop. She found him more arousing than any other person she’d met. Her senses didn’t care that they’d known each other for such a short time. Rather than trying to speak, she pressed her hands against the sides of his face and pulled his mouth down to hers. Their lips touched, spreading warmth and tingles with the simple caress.
His arms shifted, grasping her more tightly as one arm slipped beneath her knees. She was cradled against his chest and he was walking across the room before she realized what he intended. Damn the man was stro
ng. It made her feel safe and feminine. Still, the words slipped out. “Maybe we should stay—”
“The couch is too small and you have nothing to fear from me.” One of the doors on the far side of the room slid open as he approached, revealing his bedroom. Like the rest of the cabin, it was small, but well organized.
The door slid closed behind them, plunging the room into darkness. She tensed, but didn’t protest. Maybe this would be easier in the dark. He set her down beside the bed and activated a light source with a voice command.
It was too bright, too revealing. “I think I want it dark.”
“We’ll compromise.” A different command dimmed the lights by at least half.
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots and socks, then stood and shed his uniform top. She stared at him in stunned silence. Fully dressed, he’d seemed large and athletic. Half-naked he literally took her breath away. His shoulders were broad and shaped by thickly corded muscles. His torso was dramatically tapered and every muscle she could see was clearly defined.
“I thought people lost muscle mass in outer space.” She managed to drag her gaze back to his face just in time to see him smile.
“I think that has to do with zero gravity. All our ships and facilities have gravity generators.” He moved closer, his gaze locked with hers. “Your turn.”
She untucked her T-shirt, but couldn’t make herself pull it off. He was so damn perfect. He was bound to be disappointed with her round tummy and rounder thighs.
“Need some help?” He lightly grasped the hem of her shirt on either side. She raised her arms and closed her eyes. He pulled the shirt off and cool air wafted over her heated skin. She shivered, then crossed her arms over her breasts. “Lexie, open your eyes.”
Reluctantly she obeyed.
“Are you a virgin?”
The question brought resentment and old conflicts surging to the surface. “I don’t have recreational sex. It’s as simple as that. The few men I’ve been intimate with have all meant a lot to me.”
Spy (Battle Born Book 8) Page 9
