Love Uncharted
Page 26
Much of her body hurt. Like she’d been out in the sun all day and was now the center attraction in dodge ball tournament. She frowned, or at least tried to. Strangely, some parts of her were completely numb. She glanced down at her blistered hands. They weren’t numb, but her shoulder — and much of her face — felt weird. “Help me up.”
“I need to get you to Med.” She hadn’t heard that level of concern in Legian’s voice since the base attack.
“I’ll be okay,” she replied, trying to pull herself up but finding no strength to do so.
Reluctantly, Legian pulled Sienna up, holding her carefully. She glanced around. Most of the human troops covered the floor, motionless, many clearly never getting up again. Several of the Sephians were down as well, but the med-tecs were already helping them. From the look of Legian’s skin, he’d gone through several donors while she was out. Then she spotted her mother, sitting in the middle of the mess, her hair gone and blisters covering her face.
“You betrayed us, Kat.”
Her mother made no response.
“You betrayed the Sephians, the United States, and your own daughter,” she said, coughing between words.
“It was for your own good, Sienna. I couldn’t stand for genocide.”
“It’s not like that.”
Kat looked up. “I love you, Sienna. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know, Kat,” she replied softly. “But that doesn’t matter now. You are a traitor.”
Sienna glanced up to Legian. His lips tightened. She nodded as much as her broken muscles would allow. With a grimace, he handed her his weapon.
Sienna lifted it, the weight causing the gun to wobble in her hand. But she was close enough that aim didn’t matter.
A sad look of acceptance came over Kat’s face. She held out her arms. “It’s finished.”
“No, Kat,” Sienna replied. “It’s just the beginning.”
Then she squeezed the trigger.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sienna never cried. She’d made sure Kat had a proper burial. Despite her last actions in life, her mother had helped out many people as a humanitarian. Kat had always been her mentor, teaching her the hard lessons of life. And it seemed that she’d had one lesson left.
Being a leader means you have to make the hardest sacrifices.
She didn’t hate her mother. She couldn’t. But she also took on a responsibility that forced her to balance in favor of the lives of many versus the lives of few. Not exactly what Captain Kirk would do.
With her hands on the sink, Sienna stared at her image in the mirror, the left side of her face scabbed with no hopes of healing without massive scarring. She’d surprised everyone by not dying. With third degree burns over a third of her body, that she hadn’t succumbed to infection was a miracle. Sienna knew the truth. She knew it was Legian’s strength, sent to her through the soullare, that saved her.
Once she healed enough, she’d shave off what was left of her hair. In the meantime, she didn’t care what she looked like. She had more important things to worry about.
Like ensuring the Sephians’ future on Earth.
One thing had changed. Sienna was no longer afraid. Afraid of how she was perceived as a leader. Afraid of failing.
Pushing off from the sink, Sienna started her slow inspection of the base. Every day, she checked on Jax. She always knew where to find him. He’d be in the holding cells obsessively watching the prisoner Sienna had assigned him to back at her cabin. It was like he was entranced by the Draeken, like he couldn’t decide whether to kabob her or filet her. Either way, it wasn’t good for the Draeken. Talla looked miserable.
Finally, long after sunset, she went back to her room and read for a while. She didn’t know how long she stayed up. But she knew she’d been asleep for hours when Legian stepped into the room. She awoke at the sound of his footsteps; the book lay across her chest, still open to the page she last read. She set it on the nightstand and watched him walk over to the bed.
“You’re home.” She muffled a yawn and made room for him in the bed.
“Home,” he murmured as he sat down on the mattress and gave her a soft kiss. “I like the sound of that.”
It was then that she felt his tension, and she frowned. He stood, didn’t move for a moment, and his emotions caused her to try to sit up, only to lay back down with a wince. “Legian? What’s wrong?”
He abruptly fell to one knee before her. She reached out to him. “Are you okay?”
No answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out something. He held out a piece of crumpled fabric before her.
She tentatively reached out and picked the fabric from his hand. She stared at the familiar black cotton with pink skulls. “You got me a new bandana? Just like my old one that I lost in the blast. Where’d you find it?”
He smiled at her questions, and she returned the smile and unraveled it. As it came undone, a small piece of metal fell out of it and into her lap.
She sat and stared at it in utter confusion.
He grabbed it and held it up before her. “Sienna, will you marry me?” he blurted out, sounding more nervous than she’d ever heard — or felt — from him.
Her emotions, amped up by his, skyrocketed. She squealed in delight.
He grimaced slightly. “Ace told me this is how I do it. He even brought me to the store. I’m going to kick his ass if he played me.”
She shook her head. “It’s perfect.”
He continued to hold the ring before her and looked at her hand. “Which finger?”
She pointed to her ring finger. “This one.” He slid it on, gently as to not abrade her healing skin. It fit perfectly. She wiggled her finger in the light and found symbols engraved across the silver band. Sephian symbols. She examined them more closely. She twisted the ring around her finger as she translated the four symbols. Love. Tahren. A word she couldn’t make out. And, Forever. “What’s this symbol mean?”
He bent down and looked it over. “Caya. It is the closest Sephian word to ‘wife.’”
Holding her left hand in her right, she brought it to her heart. “Oh, Legian.”
“Ace said this is where you accept or reject me.”
“I accept. Of course I accept,” she said in a rush and pulled him to her. He kissed her, and before she knew it, his clothes were on the floor and he was lying next to her.
“I love you, Sienna. You’ve saved my life. And I want you as both my tahren and my wife. I’d also like to take your last name.”
She frowned. “But Sephians don’t use last names.”
“Humans do. And it would be an honor to carry my tahren’s name.”
She reached out and cupped his cheek. “Of course. I love you, Legian. Always. Forever. You’re mine, and don’t forget it.” She leaned into him and drifted away, embraced by the only thing she needed in the world.
The Draeken could wait another day.
Bonus Material
Sienna’s Favorite Sephian Drinking Game (used with American dice and booze): “Sephian Roulette”
Supplies:
1 dice
6 cups
Fill 5 cups with varying amounts of beer. Fill the sixth cup with a shot of your choice. Line the cups up in a row on the table. Number the cups from one to six. Everyone sits around the table. Someone starts by rolling the dice. The on the dice corresponds to the number of the cup in the line. Drink it all, and pass the dice to the next player. If the cup is empty, fill it as much as you want with a drink (beer or shot, your choice), and pass the dice to the next player.
Sienna’s Favorite Shot: The “Milk Dud”
1 jigger Irish cream liqueur
1 jigger coffee liqueur
1 jigger dark rum
Splash of chocolate syrup
Dab of whipped cream
Mix the chocolate syrup with the alcohol. Float the cream on top. If you’d like to make it fancy, sprinkle the top with grated chocolate. Enjoy.
Acknowledgments
With many thanks
To Jennifer Lawler and Jess Verdi for making my stuff look good.
To Elle J. Rossi for the Mike’s.
To my husband for the hugs.
To Annabelle for the endless supply wet doggie kisses.
To all the soldiers out there for making freedom possible.
To you for picking up this story and opening the worlds within it.
About the Author
Berinn Rae writes romantic sci-fi/fantasy about women with kickassitude. Her debut novel, Knightfall, was an EPIC eBook Award finalist, nominated for a Bookie Award, and listed as one of the top ten books of 2011 by Books of Love blog. Her second novel, Hellbound, and a novella, Stealing Fate, are 2012 releases. When not writing, she can be found flying old airplanes, watching SciFi movies, and pampering an incredibly spoiled sixty-pound lap dog.
Visit Berinn online at www.BerinnRae.com.
More From This Author
Implosion by Berinn Rae
Out of Character
Terry Newman
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
www.crimsonromance.com
Copyright © 2012 by Theresa Newman
ISBN 10: 1-4405-5169-3
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5169-7
eISBN 10: 1-4405-5149-9
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5149-9
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123rf.com
To my daughter, Marie,
Who believed in me from the first word of this book to its final period. I love you. Always.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance
Acknowledgments
This book would never have been created without the help of my family and closest friends. The spirit of my late husband, Clay Newman, is visible on every page as is the spirit of the late Dr. Andrew F. Clark. His personality and charm inspired the creation of one of the main characters.
I thank everyone who allowed me to think, plot, and shape characters out loud, especially Karen Spensley, May Jane Gould, Kathi Gleason, the Rev. Ric Schumaker, Roger Juntunen, and Pat Williams-Jones.
Thanks to everyone at the Downtown Hubbard Café, who tolerated my presence just about every single day of the week while I wrote this.
I wish to acknowledge my editor Jennifer Lawler and the staff at Crimson Romance for allowing me this opportunity.
Finally, I owe a very special debt of gratitude to my oncologist, Dr. George C. Garrow, and the entire staff of the Cancer Care Center in Hermitage, Pennsylvania. Without you I never would have been able to finish this book. I love you all so much.
Chapter 1
“Good morning, Sunshine.”
That voice, even muffled, indistinct and distant, sounded eerily familiar. Yet, JJ couldn’t quite place it. Had she imagined it? She held still a moment, deciding. Silence. Shifting her weight, she snuggled her head deeper into the pillow of her crossed arms on the desk, rolled her chair about a bit, finding the perfect position and posture. Then sighing deeply and contently, she prepared for the return of sleep.
As she floated in the dream-like world between sleep and awake, she sensed she must have dozed off while working on her novel. Perhaps my sister is right, she thought, maybe I am working too hard. This seemed to be getting to be a habit.
Nobody was calling her; nobody needed her. She wrapped herself in the comfort of peaceful slumber. The manuscript could wait a little longer. All she needed was a few more minutes of glorious rest … and then …
“No use ignoring us.”
The voice cracked the silence like a hammer hitting a slab of ice. The words jolted her awake; she sprang up into a full sitting position. It was the same voice again. JJ was sure of it. Only now it sounded closer than before, sharper, more commanding.
Another moment of silence — this time not so peaceful. She felt goose bumps run up her arms at the thought someone might actually be talking to her. She lived alone. How could anyone be calling her? Tension and fear paralyzed her. She tried to move an arm, but couldn’t.
“We’re not going anywhere.”
She tried to blink away the blurred surroundings, to focus her eyes on her home office. She could feel the rhythm of her heart increase. The echoing of it in her chest vibrated with panic and pulsed through her body.
Could it possibly be she wasn’t alone?
She blinked several times more. It was difficult to focus; last night’s long hours still fogged her thoughts, the scenes and the characters of her novel still dancing, center stage, through her mind.
Her sense of reality languidly returned. Cobwebs stubbornly clung to the innermost recesses of her mind. She sat completely still for a moment longer, unnerved by the very possibility that someone was watching her.
Then slowly, eyes finally adjusting, she scrutinized her surroundings. She carefully surveyed the eclectic mix of elements that made this office a welcoming work room for her. The tall, mahogany bookcase against the far wall, filled with college history texts and romance novels, photos of her late husband and herself mounted above the credenza, a man and a woman sitting on the love seat staring blithely at her, a large pile of papers on her desk to her left, her coffee mug on her desk from the night before …
A couple sitting on her loveseat? Was that right? Her eyes immediately shot back to the pair. JJ gazed at them for what seemed like an eternity, but was merely a few seconds.
“It’s about time you acknowledge our presence,” the man said.
Groggily, she looked around her. “Yeee-Owwww!” She shot up out of the chair like a rocket, the full impact of what she saw finally penetrating her. The stack of papers scattered throughout the room like huge dandelion seeds on a windy day. The chair clunked down, falling to one side.
She couldn’t get out from behind the desk quickly enough. “W-w-who are you? How did you get in here?” She also wanted to know why they were drinking from her favorite cups, but that seemed far less the issue at this point.
The man spoke first. “Why, you were right, love,” he said, directing his remarks to the woman sitting to his left. “She doesn’t recognize us.” The young woman just smiled and sipped her beverage. Swallowing slowly, her gaze caught JJ’s. Then she looked at her companion. “Well, Blake, it’s not every day characters like us drop in out of the blue.”
She crossed her legs, lightly tugged at her red dress and glanced back at JJ with a smile that so
disarmed the writer she almost smiled back.
“It really is a shame, though, she doesn’t recognize us.”
“Indeed, Alex, you would think that she would know us instantly, now wouldn’t you?” They continued to talk between themselves, purposefully and calmly, ignoring her presence.
“No,” JJ said. “I don’t recognize you two because I don’t know who the hell you are or how the hell you got in my house.”
“But we know you,” the gentleman said, bringing the cup to his lips but pausing before sipping, “You’re JJ Sprightly, romance author.”
Hearing her pen name used with such familiarity unnerved her. “H-h-how do you know me?”
Fearful of making any sudden moves, she slowly inched herself toward the telephone sitting on the desk, ensuring she was within a hand’s reach of it. Instead of reaching for the receiver, she reached down, toward her foot. Struggling to gain composure, she tried to direct her mind to work. She felt as if her brain were scattered along the better part of two states. She pushed everything but the present moment out of her mind. She prayed she was wearing heels so she could use them as a possible weapon should the need arise. She touched her foot.
Damn! She was wearing her Peter Rabbit slippers. She couldn’t hurt anyone in those things. When was the last time anyone had been “fluffied” to death? Still, she was hesitant to make any quick moves, not knowing what these two characters wanted.
“I’m Blake,” the man said flatly, as if that name should mean something to her. “Blake Teasdale.”