Fierce Radiance

by Fierce Radiance (lit)

She marginally relaxed. Caz stepped close, his voice low. “Looks like everyone got an invite.” As if he read her mind. He did that a lot. She’d grown used to it over the years.

  Aine barely nodded. Not singled out after all.

  Relief.

  As President Olan spotted them and swept across the room to greet her, the truth hit her: he wanted to impress the Act’huran ambassador. That meant the more, the merrier.

  Or, as a cynic might say, misery loves company. From the looks on the faces of some of the captains crammed into formal uniforms no doubt hanging unworn for years in some cases, there were some pretty miserable fucks in that room.

  “Captain Lorcan!”

  Before he could breech etiquette and try to hug her, she stiffened her spine and tipped forward in an appropriately cool, formal bow, followed by a salute. “President Olan. It is a pleasure, sir. My yeoman and I are honored to be here.”

  He wasn’t used to high protocol. She’d heard that about him, a looser kind of guy more worried about function over form. Fine for him because he got results, which was why he’d just been elected to his second seven-year term. Aine still preferred the old traditions.

  Olan grinned as he returned her crisp salute with a sloppy one. “I finally get to meet you in person after all this time. You are a busy woman. Admiral Iago speaks very highly of you.”

  “I’m honored, sir.”

  He waved a waiter over. “Get Captain Lorcan anything she wishes and make sure she’s well taken care of.”

  Fortunately for Aine, one of Olan’s aides stepped over to talk with him, diverting his focus. She turned to Caz and tipped her head. Caz took the cue and stepped forward to speak with the waiter.

  “Captain Lorcan will have ice water with lime, if you have it. Lemon if you don’t.”

  She took the moment to survey the room again. No one that might be an Act’huran ambassador. Captains, a few higher brass, official delegates, ass-kissing wonks—did the pang she feel signify relief or disappointment?

  She made her way to the edge of the room. When the waiter returned with her order, Caz took it and turned, his hand hovering over the glass before handing it to her. He winked.

  All clear.

  Had his mini ring scanner found anything, he would have “accidentally” tripped or otherwise spilled it instead of handing it to her. Probably a stupid precaution, but he insisted on taking care of her and he hadn’t failed her yet.

  She would damn sure keep him close by her side for the remainder of her career, or for as long as he would stay in the service.

  She didn’t want to contemplate the pang of loss she felt at the thought of him leaving her command.

  “Here you go, sir.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned against the wall as she sipped, her gaze briefly settling on each person in attendance. A few more trickled in since their arrival. Military and other Confederation non-com flunkies far outnumbered the few civilians mingling throughout the room.

  Caz stood a step away, a buffer between her and the rest of the room, sensing her tension and responding to it by remaining on high alert. Maybe one day she would let him further into her carefully constructed fortress, give him a glimpse of why she was the way she was.

  Or, maybe not. He might be able to betray her one day, but at least he wouldn’t take her heart and soul with him.

  Not that it felt like she had either left inside the empty shell of her constant pain.

  A few people she knew walked over to talk with her. Caz stood close by, carefully observing, keeping her water filled and managing how many people approached her at a time.

  She was in the middle of a discussion with a battle cruiser captain about jump drive evasion tactics when a murmur trickled through the room.

  Caz tensed, and so did she. A small group of people blocked her view of the main doorway, but Aine sensed someone important just walked in. Several people in a group, from the sound of it. Then she watched as Olan raced across the room with a beaming grin on his face.

  This had to be the Ambassador.

  Breathe. It’s just a person, no big deal.

  Another image flashed through her mind, of her body impaled on Ker’s huge cock, begging him to let her come, feeling more alive than she ever had.

  Feeling connected to another being in a way she never had before.

  Her belly clenched. She closed her eyes to slow her breathing.

  That was a past life. A life not worth revisiting.

  A life of slavery. Nothing good would ever come from that line of thinking.

  Aine turned her back to the doorway and drifted to the side so a large potted palm partially obscured her from others in that direction. Caz stepped to the side to shield her.

  He was damn good.

  A nearly paralyzing thought hit her. She stood there, the highest ranking captain in attendance, the only Dreadnought docked at the station. Most likely, from Olan’s reaction, she would be seated at his table.

  She closed her eyes and swore. The last place she wanted to sit was next to an Act’huran. Any Act’huran.

  Caz’s soft voice in her right ear startled her. “Captain hasn’t been feeling well the past few days. I suspect it’s the flu. I can beg your leave and have Maddings take your place at dinner. That wouldn’t breech protocol.”

  Without opening her eyes she reached out to the wall for support and shook her head. “No, I’m okay. But keep that one ready, it’s good.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She opened her eyes. While he wore a serious expression, she didn’t miss the unmistakable twinkle in his intense blue eyes.

  They stood relatively alone, the others close by having stepped over to meet the Ambassador. “Job security, Caz.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He smiled.

  “You’re eligible to retire in ten years?” He looked young for his age. That thought struck her the first time she met him. His short brown hair didn’t even show a single grey hair.

  He shrugged. “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On how long you plan on staying in, sir. I told you, I’ve served under a lot of captains, and you outshine them all. I prefer to spend the rest of my career under your command.”

  She straightened, reached up, and squeezed his shoulder before she walked past him into the room. That was the one sign of affection she allowed herself to express, and only with him.

  He always seemed to enjoy it.

  Aine knew the men of the Act’huran race were very similar in appearance—tall, large, especially the t’amar-te. She had no doubts the Ambassador would be a t’amar-te, maybe even one of the High Council. She had mentally prepared for this, but not emotionally. The Ambassador stood with his back turned to her. The sight of his braided plait of blond hair, down to his waist, stopped her in her tracks.

  It’s not him. It’s not him. It’s just another man. They all look very similar. Many have blond hair. Some have brown or red, but a good majority of them are blond.

  It couldn’t be him.

  To his left stood another large, broad-shouldered, although slightly shorter man, back also turned and wearing an Act’huran military uniform. Admiral, if she remembered correctly. His long blond hair, the same color as the Ambassador’s, hung loose to his waist, not bound into the customary braid.

  T’wren. The word came to mind unbidden. Most others probably didn’t notice, but from how close they stood to each other and from the way the shorter man leaned in, she knew with certainty the Admiral was the Ambassador’s t’arn, or at the very least, one of his t’wren.

  No matter how ready she thought she was for this, she’d lied to herself. She stood far enough across the room she couldn’t discern individual words in the Ambassador’s low, deep voice. With him garbed in his formal robes, she couldn’t gauge his body. About the same height as Ker, was this man hard and firm all over, like him? Or was he a bureaucrat, soft with a fat belly from years of sitting behind a desk?

  Panic swept t
hrough her. She couldn’t do this and had been fooling herself if she thought she could. When she quickly took a step toward the door, Caz immediately fell in behind her without question, her ever-present shadow.

  President Olan proved faster.

  “Ah, there she is! Captain Lorcan, come over here, please. I’d like to introduce you to the Ambassador.”

  She froze, cringing. Caz stood close enough for her to feel his breath on the back of her neck. She knew he itched to reach for a weapon to cover her back and allow her escape. She felt it, his agitation, his extreme protectiveness, his desire to keep her safe.

  Dammit, Arctillio didn’t lie when he said Caz would tune in to my thoughts.

  Taking a deep breath to calm herself, and with her eyes focused everywhere but on the Ambassador’s party, Aine turned, walked over, and stepped around the group to the president’s side. Caz remained less than a full step behind her, smoothly moving with her as if an extension of her body. She felt his tension as thick as a cloud around him as he reacted to her mood.

  President Olan beamed. “Ambassador, Admiral, this is Captain Aine Lorcan of the Dreadnought Candola Ryke. Her ship will accompany your vessel on its journey.”

  She pasted a smile she prayed didn’t look sick onto her face as she turned to snap a salute to the Act’huran ambassador and his right-hand man. “Ambassador.”

  Ker’s green eyes reflected nothing back to her but polite, professional disinterest. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Lorcan.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Abandoning protocol, Caz slipped his hand around Aine’s upper arm. Whether to hold her up should she faint or to pull her out of harm’s way, she wasn’t sure. She only knew that the squeezing pressure of his fingers around her left bicep kept her conscious and sane.

  Aine had to struggle to focus and hear the President’s words. “I told Ambassador D’arsolan that after dinner you would give us a tour of the Candola Ryke. I’ve never been aboard. They tell me you run the tightest ship in the fleet.”

  Slightly harder squeezing from Caz. Bless his heart, he did his job well. “Of course, President Olan. It would be an honor.”

  Risking her heart ripping from her chest, she let her gaze drift to Ker’s left. Sammuel’s expression shocked her. A subtle cross between longing and hatred that he’d managed to muscle into bland disdain. She didn’t miss that his gaze appeared locked on Caz’s hand around her arm.

  His voice drifted to her from the past. I would kill any man that dared to lay his hand on you besides Master.

  She shoved that memory away.

  Ker motioned to Sammuel. “This is Admiral Sammuel Jorvis, of the Act’huran fleet. He’s accompanying me on this trip.”

  Swallowing hard, she tipped her head. “Admiral.”

  He returned it. “Captain.”

  President Olan clapped his hands together. “Fantastic!”

  Aine stayed quiet and let Caz back her away from the gathered throng as others jockeyed for position to be introduced. He summoned the waiter for another glass of water and made her sit in a chair against the wall. He stood in front of her to block her view and bent down to whisper to her.

  “Sir, what can I do for you?”

  She shook her head and didn’t bother trying to see around him. She couldn’t label the feelings bouncing through her. Anger and pain that Ker and Sammuel pretended not to know her? Anger and pain that they were there? Anger and pain that they didn’t greet her warmly? Anger and pain that her body ached to drop to her knees, burrow through Ker’s robes to find his cock, and beg them to take her back?

  It was definitely anger and pain vying for the top spot, regardless of the origin.

  She closed her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Give me back the last seven years of my life,” she whispered. “Then we’ll call it even.”

  He glanced around and knelt before her, his hands gripping hers, squeezing them, trying to warm them. “Let me escort you to sick bay. I know one of the doctors here. They’ll certify you’re ill and need to return to the ship.”

  “Job secured, Caz. You don’t need to go overboard.”

  “Please, sir?”

  She opened her eyes and realized he truly worried for her. When was the last time anyone looked at her like that? Cared about her?

  Unbidden, her mind flashed back to that first night after her crash landing, when Sammuel hovered over her, tending her wounds, fighting to keep her alive. And other memories long suppressed.

  Sammuel and Ker keeping watch over her after that goddamned spider bit her on that fucking planet.

  Ker worried for her after that first night together when they made her theirs and completed their triad, afraid he’d gone too far and hurt her.

  She managed a wan smile she knew didn’t fool Caz in the slightest. “Keep my secret?”

  “Oath upon my soul, sir.”

  “You remember what you said in my cabin earlier this evening, about kicking someone’s ass for me if you ever met them?”

  He frowned, then slowly nodded as comprehension dawned.

  She tipped her head in Ker’s direction. “You just met them.”

  * * * *

  Caz followed her to the facilities, stood watch outside and waited for her. When she emerged she didn’t miss his anxious expression.

  “Sir, are you sure you wish to stay?”

  She nodded. “Sucks to be the captain sometimes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He hovered closer than protocol normally called for. Under the circumstances his presence calmed and focused her. She wasn’t about to correct him. She had never felt anything remotely improper from him during his service, and tonight he reminded her even more of a loving big brother. She wouldn’t refuse what little comfort she drew from his concern.

  It was the closest thing she’d had to a connection with another human since…

  I am the Ice Queen.

  She managed to stay occupied talking with others, distracted with conversations rehashing battles and braggadocio, until a servant walked in and announced it was time to move to the dining hall.

  Aine hung back, allowing the President and the Ambassador’s party to walk through first. Somehow, she won the struggle and kept her eyes off their backs and focused elsewhere.

  Caz leaned in. “Make a run for it now, sir?”

  She allowed the faintest of smiles. “You think I’m letting you leave my command any time soon, think again.”

  “Thank you, sir. That’s all I ask.”

  She trailed behind the main gathering into the banquet hall. Huge, seating over five hundred, she mentally groaned when she realized the seating was assigned.

  A waiter approached. Caz intercepted and spoke with him. The man consulted a hand-held tablet. The yeoman’s face reddened and he turned to her. “Sorry, sir. President’s table for us. They won’t allow us to change seats.”

  Her reputation preceded her in Olan’s office. They seated Caz next to her, on her right, not making him stand behind her like many lower class yeomen had to do. The President sat at the head of the table, Ker and Sammuel on his left. She’d been placed on the President’s right.

  Directly across the table from Ker.

  Her stomach dropped.

  When she approached the table, all the men stood and waited until Caz helped her with her chair before retaking their seats.

  Ker and President Olan continued their conversation from where her arrival interrupted it. She watched Sammuel glare at Caz before his eyes settled on hers.

  She stared him down. She would have to do this at some point. His identical green gaze pierced through her, turning her insides out, bad or good she didn’t know. When Olan asked him a question he finally turned his attention to the President, allowing Aine the chance to drop her gaze and take a deep breath.

  A waiter poured her another glass of water. Before she could fumble for it with trembling fingers, Caz reached over, picked it up and handed it to her, passing hi
s palm over it before he used both hands to firmly press her fingers around the glass and release it to her.

  Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Sammuel watched their interplay, a brief scowl flitting across his face.

  When the rolls were passed, Caz waved his hand over the bowl before handing it to her. No one else seemed to notice the gestures, but Sammuel did.

  She was careful not to make eye contact with Sammuel again. She kept her eyes on Ker’s chin when forced to make pleasant conversation with him.

  He acted diplomatically bored, polite and respectful, but as if they hadn’t shared what felt like a lifetime of passion and pleasure and pain rolled into one.

  At one point in the evening Ker coughed. That was the only time she noticed Sammuel’s barely-constrained mask slip. He jumped to his feet and before her eyes could follow, he produced a small inhaler that Ker palmed. With obviously practiced movement, Ker took a quick pull from it. He smiled at Sammuel, a hint of the Master’s gratitude in the expression as he returned the inhaler.

  Sammuel nodded and retook his seat.

  “My apologies for the interruption, President Olan,” Ker said.

  “Are you all right? We can skip the tour if you aren’t well.”

  Ker waved his hand as if it was nothing. “I am fine, truly. Minor annoyance.”

  He had Aine’s full attention. Her eyes traveled his face, his rugged, tanned skin, the deep lines etched around his green eyes.

  Something’s wrong.

  She wasn’t sure why, but now that she allowed herself to pay attention she knew with certainty he was sick despite being locked out of their minds. He looked older, an impossibility for Act’hurans in only a few short years. It should take him many human decades to appear even slightly aged.

  I could live practically forever with them.

  She closed off that line of thinking. What was forever if spent in servitude?

  Not that the servitude they offered was a bad thing…

  Sammuel’s full attention focused on Ker. Caz noticed too, because she saw him watching the two men.

  Somewhere between the second and third courses, Ker excused himself to the facilities. When Sammuel tried to accompany him, Ker laid a staying hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I’ll return shortly.”