Barron's Last Stand (The Black Wing Chronicles Book 3)

by JC Cassels

  Blade nudged her into motion once more, his hand riding possessively on her bare back.

  With a sigh, she followed the humanoid hostess deeper into the crowded dining room.

  Beneath the dome, elegantly draped tables ringed the dance floor, far enough apart to ensure privacy, yet near enough for the beautiful and famous to see and be seen. On the far end of the dining room, beneath a massive hovering chandelier lit with luminous crystals, the bandstand glittered like diamonds. A live orchestra played soft, romantic music for those inclined to try their skill on the large, gleaming dance floor.

  Bo knew from past experience that the ‘best’ tables for optimum visibility were those nearest the bandstand. She’d always felt on display when seated there. She breathed a sigh of relief when the hostess showed them to a softly glowing table midway down from the bandstand, against one of the viewports.

  It was a table from which to see, not to be seen.

  The hostess touched the screen on her data reader and the Reserved light flickered off. Blade eyed the table, yet made no move to assist Bo into her seat.

  “This is not my regular table,” he said.

  Bo’s eyes narrowed in warning. “Blade, it’s fine.”

  “No, Marissa, it’s not fine.”

  The hostess consulted her data pad. “I’m sorry, Mister Devon, Miss Kiara. It appears your regular table was spoken for long before you placed your reservation. The manager would like to offer you a complimentary bottle of wine by way of an apology.”

  Blade opened his mouth to respond, but Bo rested her hand on his arm. “That will be acceptable,” she said quickly. “Our thanks to your manager for his consideration.” She stroked Blade’s arm. “I prefer the view here. I hope you don’t mind. I’m not feeling up to being put on display this evening.”

  With an indignant huff, Blade relented, nodding his acquiescence. He held Bo’s seat for her, annoyance setting his shoulders in a rigid line. The hostess excused herself as Bo settled in. Blade glared after her, then looked down at Bo. He winked at her before moving to his own seat across from her.

  Acting.

  Bo breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Some warning would have been nice,” she said quietly.

  “I haven’t made a holofeature in five years,” he said. “We’re lucky to have a table at all. The whole point is to be visible and memorable.”

  With a sigh, she propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “I know,” she said. “It’s just…”

  .

  “You feel trapped and exposed.”

  Bo nodded.

  Trapped. Exposed. Aroused. Frustrated. She hadn’t been prepared for how badly she’d wanted…needed to strip off his clothes and shove him onto the bed earlier. Thank the Maker he, at least, had the presence of mind to put a stop to their grope session before it had gone too far.

  He wanted far too much from her. It would take more than a candid monologue about his past sins to win her trust. This time, he wasn’t the only one with secrets to protect. The truth was something neither of them could offer.

  She searched the docking ring, looking for Sundance. After a moment, she found him, nestled securely against his docking tube.

  “Where’s an EVA suit when you need one?” she muttered.

  “We’ve got a couple stowed in the lockers outside my quarters.” He grinned at her. His eyes gleamed with mischief. “Want me to run get them?”

  Somehow, she sensed that he was only half-joking.

  “I think you would do it.”

  He rested his arm on the table, palm up, in silent invitation. After only a brief hesitation, Bo placed her hand in his. It was hard to ignore the current that jolted between them when they touched.

  “I don’t like to see you afraid or upset,” he said softly. “I mean it when I say I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

  With a final glance at her ship, she turned her full attention to the man across from her. “Why is it that you are the only person in the Commonwealth who thinks I need protecting?”

  An enigmatic smile played about his lips. “Because a man will protect what he treasures.”

  Bo searched his face for some sign that would tell her whether he was playing a role. Nothing in his admiring gaze hinted at deception.

  They fell silent as a Lyrrdian server approached with a bottle of wine.

  “From the manager, Mister Devon.”

  He poured a portion into Blade’s glass and waited. Blade lifted his glass and tasted the golden liquid. He nodded his approval to the server, who then filled their glasses. He set the bottle on the table and withdrew as unobtrusively as he’d come.

  Blade raised his glass in salute. “I’d be lying if I said I was sorry that circumstances contrived to bring us here tonight. There is no place I would rather be than right here, with you.”

  Unable to look away, she was caught in his blue gaze. She forgot to breathe. Bo swallowed hard.

  The corners of his mouth twitched in a small smile. “Unless, of course, we were at home watching the game on the holovid,” he said as he took a long drink of the wine. “These shoes are pinching my feet and I’d much rather be drinking Tinsani Ale.”

  The spell broken, Bo lowered her gaze, unable to hide her smile.

  “So, where is home these days?” she asked. “Kah Lahtrec? Cormoran?”

  “Same place it’s always been,” he said. He waited for her to look up. When she did, he smiled. “Home is wherever you and I can be together without someone shooting at us.”

  “Why, Blade Devon, I do believe you’ve gotten smoother in your old age.”

  Lifting her glass, she took a cautious sip. The wine had a delicate, fruity taste, and seemed to evaporate as soon as it touched her tongue. With a small moan of pleasure, she closed her eyes and savored the unexpected luxury.

  “It is a good wine,” he said. “I must not be too much of a has-been to rate this kind of vintage.”

  Opening her eyes, Bo forced herself to set her glass on the table. She couldn’t afford the distraction. “How can you be so stoic about all this?”

  “Well, I am a has-been.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

  “Who said I’m being stoic?” He set his glass aside. His hand tightened over hers.

  “If you were any cooler, you’d freeze solid.”

  “I have a lot of experience acting cool under pressure,” he said. “You’ve seen my holofeatures.” His blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and he tilted his head to one side. “Listen...”

  The live orchestra was just starting to play a sweeping romantic melody. Couples started to head for the dance floor under the center of the dome. Blade slid out of his chair. “I think it’s time we had that dance, don’t you?”

  Bo arched an eyebrow. “This isn’t the dress you love so much.”

  He flashed her his famous smile and pulled her to her feet. “It’s not the dress. It’s the woman wearing it.”

  Her hand tucked securely in his, she fell into step beside him, matching his slow, unhurried stride toward the dance floor.

  “Are you acting again?”

  He arched an eyebrow in amusement. “You mean you can’t tell?”

  She sighed. “If I could tell when you were acting, you never would have broken my heart in the first place.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” he said. “It’s true. If you had been able to tell when I was acting, you’d know I never lied about my feelings for you. I love you, Bo. I have always loved you, and I will always love you. And that is the truest thing I’ve ever told anyone.”

  “You don’t know how much I wish that I could believe that.”

  “I know you love me,” he said. “You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  He led her to the dance floor and guided her through a slow spin. His smoky blue eyes darkened as he pulled her to him.

  The shimmersilk of her skirt fluttered around her and finally set
tled with a whisper against her bare thighs. The fabric lightly caressed her skin like a lover’s touch, bringing the memory of his callused hands sliding along her taut flesh. Her pulse quickened.

  Bo dug in her heels, resisting the gentle pressure of his hands pulling her closer.

  “You, of all people, should know there’s a big difference between love and sex,” she said.

  His inscrutable gaze searched her face, looking intently for something, yet revealing nothing.

  “If sexual attraction was the only thing between us, you wouldn’t be so stubborn about keeping your distance.”

  Lifting her chin, she swallowed and forced a smile. “What you call stubborn, I call self-preservation.”

  “Stubborn,” he rasped. His lips parted in a lopsided grin. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  Her knees wobbled a little. Bo girded herself against his charm. She stiffly stepped into his embrace, lightly resting her arm on his.

  The fuseform hard muscles beneath her touch bunched and flexed. He gently nudged her closer to his broad chest until his body heat enveloped her.

  Together, they moved with the rhythm of the music.

  “You are beautiful tonight,” he said. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Ever since I first put that necklace on you, I’ve wanted to see you wearing that and nothing else.”

  Bo missed a step and her face heated in embarrassment.

  “Was it something I said?” he teased.

  “I’m a little out of practice,” she said. “I haven’t danced in a long time.”

  “Relax, love.” He grinned with wicked delight. “You’re far too tense. Dancing is just like sparring, remember? If dancing is too much for you, we can always spar instead. You owe me a rematch, after all.”

  Bo glanced up at him. Impish humor gleamed in his eyes.

  “I’ll even let you take the first swing,” he said.

  Bo chuckled in relief. “And you say you’re no gentleman.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  The tension eased out of her. “I’ll pass this time. But I don’t want to hear a word of complaint about your toes. You were warned.”

  “I’ll risk it,” he said.

  He didn’t give her a chance for a witty riposte. He pulled her against him and swung her around. Bo cried out and gripped him tighter, laughing as he led her through a complex series of dance steps. Closing her eyes, she focused on the movement, feeling his balance shifting from one foot to the other until they moved as one.

  Tendrils of his familiar scent reached out, ensnaring her, tempting her, luring her closer. She relaxed against him, relinquishing control and following the movement of his shoulders as he changed direction.

  Maker help her, this – being in his arms – it felt like coming home.

  The other couples on the crowded dance floor faded away. He filled her senses, driving all else from her mind, leaving nothing but the feel of him against her, his muscles coiling and uncoiling with each dip and sway.

  Just like the night they married.

  His earnest promises, made that night on the dance floor at the Tryriate on Kah Lahtrec, flitted through her memory like a half-forgotten whisper.

  “You are the only woman I love…”

  His steps slowed.

  “…the only woman I have ever loved…”

  He bent his head and his lips plied hers, tenderly, patiently.

  “I am yours, whether you want me or not…”

  Maker, help her. She wanted him.

  With a sigh, Bo surrendered.

  Her mouth opened under his gentle onslaught.

  Her arm went around his neck, pulling him closer – seeking more as his tongue slipped into her mouth, teasing hers. He tasted of the wine he’d sipped just before the dance. His whiskers raked the skin around her mouth, left sensitive from ditoxicin all those years ago. His fingers trembled slightly as they twined through her hair. His heart pounded against her hand, tightly gripping his jacket.

  Blade tore his mouth from hers with a gasp. He cradled her face in his hand. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him. Their chests rose and fell in time with each ragged breath as they struggled for control.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. “I didn’t…”

  “Blade? Blade Devon, I can’t believe it! How long has it been? What are you doing here?”

  Blade flinched as a compact, dark-haired man slapped him hard on the back. Bo grabbed his wrist as he started to turn, his fingers already curling into a fist as they left her cheek.

  The other man beamed with the vapid, energetic smile of a holofeature actor. Impossibly perfect teeth gleamed an unnatural shade of white. Standing this close to him, it was easy to see that his features had been surgically augmented to attain their perfect symmetry.

  He braced his feet and pulled back his shoulders, lifting his chin and stretching out his spine in an unconscious effort to match Blade’s height.

  Bo bit back a smile. Even with his best efforts, Blade still towered head and shoulders over him. In her high-heels, even she was likely a shade taller than the other man.

  Blade regained control quickly, schooling his features into a pleasant, though brittle, mask.

  “Stoma,” Blade said. “Fancy running into you here.”

  With one arm still around Bo, he extended his hand to the other man. If he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she might not have felt his heart still pounding, or the evidence of his arousal pressing against her.

  Bo smiled to herself.

  That was real. The smooth, polished holofeature actor making small talk as though he didn’t want to pound the other man to a pulp was the act.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you,” Stoma said. “What have you been doing with yourself? You look so – rugged.”

  The man laughed as though he’d just said something outrageously funny. “I envy you, man,” he went on. “It must be liberating to be able to let your looks go like that.”

  To his credit, Blade didn’t bat an eye, but a muscle jumped in his jaw.

  “It has been a long time,” Blade said. He arched an eyebrow at the other man. “How’s Nik?”

  The other man’s humor faded.

  “We divorced a few years ago,” Stoma said. “He was jealous of my success.”

  Five years ago, Stoma Kush hadn’t been able to land a leading role. Blade’s departure from holofeatures had left an opening for an action/adventure heartthrob which the ambitious young Stoma, tired of living in his talented second spouse’s shadow, had scrambled to fill.

  “Have you met my wife? Shimsani Pella.” He pulled a dark, exotically beautiful woman to his side.

  Bo’s eyes narrowed. Shimsani Pella had played Blade’s love interest in Underneath Dead Star, the holofeature that had launched his career. They’d had a brief, and highly publicized love affair at the time.

  “Of course,” he said. He forced a warm smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Blade kissed her cheek. “Good to see you again, Sani. You look radiant as ever.”

  While the woman cooed over Blade, her black eyes glittered with a calculating gleam. She glanced between the two men, then turned to Bo.

  “I don’t believe I’ve met your ladyfriend.” Lifting her chin enough to peer down her nose at Bo, she offered her a limp hand. “What is your name, dear?” she purred. “If I know our Blade at all, he’s already forgotten it.”

  “Not likely,” Blade said. “Marissa Kiara. You’ve met before.”

  The woman’s painted smile widened. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Your whore.”

  Bo stiffened.

  “My wife,” Blade smoothly interjected.

  Bo looked sharply at him.

  “Of course, Marissa,” Stoma leaned over in a cloud of cloying cologne and brushed a kiss to Bo’s cheek.

  It took all her self-control not to wipe at the damp spot he left on her face.

  “We’ve been married a very long time,” Blad
e said, pulling her up against his side once more. “We kept it on the hush low. My publicist thought it would adversely affect my career if my fans found out I was off the market. These days, though, it hardly matters what my publicist thinks.”

  “Is that why you’re not wearing the veil anymore? Because you’re married and no longer simply a mistress?” Stoma asked.

  Bo forced a smile. “I was never comfortable with the level of attention Blade received.”

  “Wearing a veil was Marissa’s way of maintaining a measure of privacy while being thrust into a very public life,” Blade said. “Since I left holofeatures, she hasn’t really needed it.”

  Shimsani batted her eyelashes. “Perhaps I should take to wearing a veil,” she said. “It’s quite a dramatic affectation, not to mention good for creating buzz. I believe I remember the gossip outlets were offering a reward for a holo of the two of you together without her veil.”

  Blade laughed. “They probably were. I don’t remember. I never paid attention to that kind of thing.”

  Stoma held up his hands, grinning hugely as though the most brilliant thought ever had suddenly occurred to him. “I have a great idea,” he said. “We have so much catching up to do. Why don’t you join us at our table?”

  His wife nodded. “Yes! What a wonderful suggestion, darling.” She turned to Blade with a practiced smile. “You really must join us.”

  Blade shook his head. “We couldn’t intrude on your evening…” he trailed off with false humility.

  Bo didn’t quite manage to stifle her sigh as she waited for the next maneuver in their social dance.

  “How can an evening with old friends be an intrusion?” Stoma countered. “I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to.” He shook his head. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Blade smiled. “Well then, how can we possibly refuse?”

  Acting was fast becoming much easier to spot.

  ***

  Blade couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried. He hadn’t been out of the business so long that he forgot how the publicity machine worked. Current adventure hero Stoma Kush and his wife had been laughingly obvious in their machinations to coax Blade and Bo into sharing their table in the spotlight.