by JC Cassels
Ballanshi’s laughter rattled the windows. “My boy, you are already legally joined! What did you think was happening just a few moments ago when I asked your intentions?”
“That’s it? That’s all it takes?”
“I am the Tryrium te Kah Lahtrec,” he said. “I declare you joined as one under the laws of Kah Lahtrec.”
“Kiss her, stupid.” Blade said.
Needing no more urging, Chase pulled Tese to him and kissed her.
Ballanshi put his hand over Dash’s eyes. The cruiser glided to a stop underneath a portico at the front of the home and the driver climbed out and opened the door for them.
“Hey, save it for after we leave,” Blade said.
Like guilty teenagers, they broke apart giggling. Scrambling to their feet, they clambered out of the cruiser. Chase paused with one foot on the gravel and turned, leaning into the cruiser. “Thank you, Ballanshi,” he said. He nodded to his brother. “Dev.”
Laughing, Blade shoved him out the door. “Go! Don’t come out until she makes a man out of you!”
“I will send a cruiser for you tonight,” Ballanshi called. “My wife has planned a state dinner in Lord Marin’s honor.”
“Thank Madine…” Chase broke off as Tese tugged him toward the steps.
“We’ll be ready!” Tese promised.
Laughing, he scooped her into his arms. Tese squealed in delight. Her long hair fell free of the intricate knot as he swung her around and carried her up the steps, past the white-liveried servant standing by the open door, and into the home.
Ballanshi chuckled and waved to the driver, who closed the door and resumed his seat.
“It makes this old heart happy to see your brother so free of care,” the Tryrium said.
Blade dropped into the seat beside Bo and settled his arm around her shoulders, drawing the older man’s attention.
“It pleases me to see you both together again. You, my friend, have been living half a life without her.”
Blade’s lips twitched. “I can’t argue that.”
Bo looked up at her husband.
Her husband.
Her gaze caressed his face. She knew every angle and plane of his features. The lines at the corners of his blue eyes deepened as his features softened in a genuine smile. Unable to help herself, she lifted her hand and lightly ran her fingertips over the whiskers on his cheek.
“I’m still not used to this, yet,” she said. “The beard hides your face. It’s almost like another mask.”
He captured her wandering hand in his and pressed a kiss into her palm. “Do you hate it?”
She shook her head. “No.” She glanced at her hand, held snugly in his before meeting his stare once more. “I kind of like it. Your masks don’t bother me anymore, Dev.”
“Are we there yet?” Dash piped up, breaking the spell.
Ballanshi laughed. “Not yet, my little man,” he said. Merriment twinkled in his dark eyes.
“Can I go to the beach when we get there?” Dash looked hopefully to Blade.
Blade laughed. “We’ll see, buddy,” he said. “We have to let Mama get settled and we have a lot to do to get ready for Madine’s party tonight.”
Dash sighed loudly. “Can Uncle Phinny take me?”
Bo’s heart lurched at the thought of how much of her son’s life she’d missed out on. “Have you come here often, Dash?”
The gamine little boy nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, ma’am. Bapi brung me here to see Papa lots and lots! Din’t he Ballium?” Dash turned an earnest look up to Ballanshi, silently begging for validation.
The Tryrium laughed and patted the boy’s knee. “He did indeed!”
“Will I get to meet Grandpa?”
Blade nodded. “Not tonight. Tonight is for grown-ups, but I will introduce you.” He waited for Bo to look at him. “I’ll have to introduce you, too.”
“The Overlord?” It came out as a squeak. Dread congealed in Bo’s stomach.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Blinding sunlight reflected off the cream-colored walls of Blade’s villa. The sprawling home perched atop a rocky cliff overlooking turquoise waters. The well-tended gardens with flowering plants blooming in vibrant colors danced and swayed in the onshore winds, their intoxicating perfumes mingling on the saline-scented breeze.
Bo stepped out of the cruiser into the shade of the wide portico. She gazed up at the carved doors, made from the dark barbur wood that was so plentiful in the nearby jungle. They stood open wide to catch the ever-present zephyrs, as did the windows and their louvered, barbur wood shutters.
Dash slipped his tiny hand into hers, drawing her attention with a smile.
Forearms braced on the open window, Blade exchanged a final word with Ballanshi before the cruiser pulled away. Their quiet conversation was lost to her. With a laugh, he finally stepped back and lifted a hand in farewell. The cruiser hummed on its anti-grav field as it floated out into the sunshine once more.
His social duties duly executed, Blade slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“Well, my love,” he said, “welcome home.”
The three of them climbed the steps to the door. Not much had changed since her last visit. The dark stone floors stretched out down the long hallway and into the formal rooms that branched off to each side.
The sharp crack of a lightweight carbon composite stick striking a dense ball echoed through the villa, followed closely by the low hum of the bumper ball traveling across the table. The equipment clacked and ker-thunked from the game room, and a not-quite-human, but definitely male tenor, chortled in glee.
“Hah! I am master of the table!”
“You’ll never make that shot,” a deeper voice said.
Dash dropped her hand and raced through the door. “Uncle Phinny! Uncle Kayne!”
With a small smile, Blade steered her to the game room.
Dash had already managed to climb halfway up the smaller of the two men. The humanoid laughed, showing a disturbing number of white teeth. He crouched, giving the boy a slight assist as he scrambled higher. He turned his head, sending his long, black hair swirling around the boy, his large, dark eyes flashing with humor.
“Gah! The grups!” he shouted. “Act natural!”
The other man, every bit as tall as Blade but considerably leaner of build, brandished his stick like a rapier. “Stand back! You’ll never take our leader alive! We’ve got your back, Dash,” he said in an aside to the boy.
The taller one looked every bit the kind of fashion model heartthrob that made adolescent girls squeal and sigh. The skillfully-achieved depth of color and style in his brown hair, and his well-cut casual suit, spoke more of sartorial talent than combat experience.
Dash giggled and swung himself onto the smaller man’s shoulders and gripped his hair in his tiny fists. “To tha gates a’Bibbinoor!!”
Blade grinned. “You need a flaming sword if you plan to take the gates of Bihn Tabor.”
“Don’t give ’im any ideas!” the humanoid screeched.
“Let me guess, you’re Phinny?”
Leaning on his stick, the humanoid swept a low, courtly bow. “At your service, milady.”
Dash squawked and swayed against the movement, then giggled and kicked his heels into Phinny’s shoulders. “Let’s go!”
The other man made a great show of tucking the stick into his belt, as though sheathing a sword. With much waving and gesticulating, he bowed low in front of her. “Kayne Logan, ma’am,” he said. “Ever your devoted servant. Say the word and I’ll do away with your bothersome husband so we can be together as fate intended.”
Her lips twitched in amusement. “Not what I expected from a bottom-feeder.”
He spread his hand across his chest and feigned outrage. “Madam, that was a low blow.” He looked to Blade. “And why does she call me a bottom-feeder?”
“She’s not impressed that you finished in the bottom third of your class at your flight academy,” Blade said. “To a Barron
, that’s unforgiveable. Believe it or not, that was what passes for a compliment with Bo.”
“That I’m a bottom-feeder?”
“That you’re not what she expected out of a bottom-feeder.”
Bo grinned at her husband. “I’m so glad you’re here to translate for me.”
Blade glanced around. “Where’s Adin?”
“Ow! Watch the fingers,” Phinny said.
“He’s still at the temple,” Kayne said. He pulled the stick from his belt and returned it to the rack on the wall. “For some reason, he said he needed a quiet place to meditate.”
Phinny bellowed and bounced around, spinning and swinging the boy, whose delighted peals of laughter rattled the shutters.
“Incredible,” Blade said.
“I know!”
Phinny galloped out of the game room, roaring like a pader lung howler, much to Dash’s amusement.
“Any word from Ian or Royce?”
Kayne shrugged. “Ian’ll be here in a couple of days. He’s coordinating with your Janizary, then he’ll head in. He said Royce took off on his own but he wouldn’t say where.”
Blade sighed. “Andre will expect me to have a bodyguard tonight,” he said. “Let Adin know his presence is required. He can come in with Tahar. Phinny can stay with Dash, but I need you to fill in for Ian.”
Kayne nodded, his brown eyes narrowing as he calculated the logistics. “I’ve been in touch with the Black Wing ships,” he said. “Can they send a security detail for you? Not that I wouldn’t love to join you tonight, but do you think it’s wise to leave Phinny and Dash without adult supervision?”
Blade looked to Bo for approval.
She nodded.
“You’re right. Good call, Kayne,” he said. “Can you set it up?”
He grinned. “Happy to,” he said. “I already unpacked your dress uniform.” He jerked his chin toward the stairs. “It’s pressed and ready. Begging your pardon, Barron, but there’s nothing upstairs appropriate for you to wear tonight. Do you want me request your honor detail bring a dress uniform for you as well?”
Bo swallowed hard. “State dinner…”
Fortunately, Blade spoke for her. “No need,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”
Kayne lifted a dubious eyebrow. “You?”
Sensing a reprieve, Bo slipped out of his embrace. “I think I’ll hide in our suite for a while.”
He kissed her forehead. “Coward,” he said. He smiled to let her know he was teasing. “Check out the lav. I installed an Altairian bath, and there’s wine in the cooler.”
“You were that sure I’d be back?”
A lopsided grin split his face. “Tahar said you would. I never doubted him.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Don’t be in a hurry to get out. I plan to join you as soon as I can.”
Bo’s face heated.
“Go on with her,” Kayne said. “Me and Phin’ll look after Dash. Maybe those two’ll wear each other out.”
Blade nodded to her. “I’ll be along after I make one call.”
***
Bo shouldn’t have doubted him.
Immersed in the deep bath, hot scented water pleasantly cycled around them.
For the first time in years, she felt more like a Joy Babe than a warrior, and it wasn’t due entirely to the decadent Altairian bath. Rather, she credited the feeling to the man she shared it with. She sighed and languidly settled against his chest, her arms around his neck. He kissed her again.
“I missed this,” he said softly. “You’re the best of me, love. We balance each other.”
They fit together, completing each other like pieces of a puzzle that neither had realized were missing.
In the safe haven of his embrace, Bo finally relinquished the last vestiges of the fugitive she had been and reveled in the feeling of belonging…the feeling of home.
One after another, he’d peeled away the layers of doubt, mistrust, lies, and deceit. Their heartbeats were synced. She knew without a doubt that he would rise to face any threat to come through the door. He would fight like an avenging angel to protect her. Despite the fact that she was more than capable of protecting herself, it still made her feel soft and feminine. It also gave her a sense of security she hadn’t known since childhood.
With Blade Devon watching her back, she felt capable of taking on anything.
Someone rapped softly on the door.
Blade’s arms tightened around her, pulling her close.
“Yes?” he called out.
The door opened and Kayne stepped in. His assessing gaze flicked over them and his lips curved in amusement. “Begging your pardon, Barron, but your dressers are here.”
Bo shifted and Blade’s arm tightened around her in silent warning.
“Dressers?”
“Madine called them,” Blade said. “I delegate, remember?”
Kayne craned his neck, peering into the swirling water. “I am happy to help with anything you need.”
Blade lifted an eyebrow. “There is one thing we need.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“For you to wait downstairs.”
Kayne didn’t take the hint right away. After a moment, he lifted his gaze and grinned. “I can’t see anything anyway,” he said. “Your arms are in the way.”
Blade nodded. “I know,” he said. “Go away.”
He turned toward the door, then hesitated. “Hey, Blade?”
“Yeah?”
“I like you with her,” he said. “You’re not acting.”
Without waiting for comment, he nodded in a shallow bow and slipped out, pulling the door closed behind him.
Bo’s eyes narrowed. “Am I the only one who hasn’t been able to tell when you’re acting?”
He kissed the tip of her nose and released her. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Bo stepped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around her. Leaning down, she trailed her fingers in the water. “I’m getting better.” Playfully, she flicked water at him.
He grinned and braced his arms on the edge of the bath. “Yes, you are.”
She tossed a flirtatious smile over her shoulder as she left him.
A small army of Lahtrecki women waited for her in the dressing room, courtesy of the Tryrine, the lady Madine. After brief introductions, they wasted no time getting down to business. In short order, the women had her primped and perfumed.
She glanced up as Blade passed through, a towel wrapped around his hips in deference to the gaggle of women gathered around her. She sent him a pleading look. He shook his head and grinned at her discomfort. Bo rolled her eyes at his retreating back. The lead dresser demanded her attention as she presented the gown chosen for the evening’s assembly. Without giving her an opportunity to protest, the women surrounded her and wrestled her into the garment. After much tugging, poking and smoothing, the dressers stepped back. Bo didn’t have much opportunity to breathe before another wave of women shoved her onto the bench in front of the vanity table and set to work on her hair.
When they finally stepped back and made admiring sounds, Bo turned to confront her reflection. Neither Joy Babe nor warrior stared back at her. The cool, graceful woman in the mirror looked every bit the ruling noble. Her hair had been coiled into an elegant knot at the base of her skull. The long, black dress of shimmersilk woven with strands of iridescent thread caught the light. The bodice, with its high collar and deep vee neckline, resembled the Black Wing uniform jacket. A blue and gold sash, in Barron colors, crossed from shoulder to hip.
“Barron…”
She glanced up at the woman bearing a carved, barbur wood box.
“A gift from your husband.”
The woman lifted the lid on the box.
Bo’s breath caught.
Nestled on a white shimmersilk cushion, a jeweled parure glittered in the light. A large brooch bore her clan crest: a golden sunburst surrounded a large black gemstone, carved with a hawk, its wings spread wide. A heavy necklace of the same
faceted black stones surrounded the brooch, flanked on either side by matching earrings. A tiara completed the set.
“I don’t think…”
The women didn’t give her opportunity to protest. Swarming around her, they worked quickly, draping her in the jewels. The lead dresser pinned the brooch to her sash and stepped back.
A low, appreciative whistle came from the door to the bedroom.
Bo rose, smoothing her skirt. Taking a deep breath, she faced her husband. The sight of him stopped her in her tracks.
Holy Maker!
Bo swallowed hard.
He leaned lazily with one shoulder braced against the door frame, his black hat tucked under his arm and his legs crossed at his booted ankles. Some men were made for a military uniform. Blade Devon could have been the model for the First Sector Consular Guard recruiting poster. He had never looked as handsome as he did in that moment in the black formal jacket and trousers.
Gold striped epaulets, adorned with three stars, topped his broad shoulders. Similar stripes circled the cuffs of his jacket. The intricate embroidery around his high collar told the story of his career with the Mighty Eighth SAR, from the gold medic insigne on one side of his throat to the crossed swords on the opposite side. A scarlet sash at his hip broke the unrelenting black, marking him as a Predator.
“I’ve never seen you in a dress uniform before,” she managed to croak.
“There hasn’t been a need until now,” he said.
Looking past her at the Lahtrecki women, he thanked them in their native tongue. The lead dresser bowed her head, then gestured for her team to leave. With one last smile to Bo, she followed them out.
“Impressive array of ribbons you have there.” Bo gestured to the distinguished collage of commendations covering his chest.
His lips quirked. “Contrary to what you may think, I was a good officer.”
“I never doubted that.”
Self-consciously, she gathered a double handful of her skirt and closed the distance between them for a better look.
He said nothing, but regarded her with amusement as she read the record of his career as told by the colorful pins.
“I had no idea,” she said. “All these campaigns…really?” Her brow furrowed. “You were wounded more than once.”
