by Cathryn Cade
He moved close, and pulled her against him. “I mean, for you and me—for us. The night you died, and before that, I screwed up, Brynne. I acted in ways that hurt you, instead of manning up and being clear on what I was feeling."
He shook his head, struggling to find the right words.
"I pushed you away and took you for granted at the same time. Like you’d always be there for me, no matter how many hurtful words and silences I slung at you. I’m sorry, so sorry.”
His heart was pounding and he felt a little sick with nerves, but also relieved that he’d finally admitted to himself and to her, his past mistakes.
“So I need to know … do you think you can forgive me?”
He had to admit, part of him expected her to throw herself on his chest and say 'of course she did, that she’d forgive him anything as long as he let her stay'.
But instead, the new Brynne swallowed, and regarded him with her beautiful eyes luminous with tears. “I … I want to say yes, Gray, but … not yet. I don’t even understand everything that’s happened to me lately. I feel sort of like Pinocchio, you know? Swallowed by the whale and then spit out on the shore to find my way back to my life again—only I’m not the old me anymore.”
She held onto his arms, her fingers working in the folds of his shirt, a sign of nerves that he remembered.
He nodded, swallowing a knot of cold fear that lodged itself in his chest. “Okay. I understand. What if we, uh, went for counseling when we get back? Couples counseling, for people who want to make it work, but need advice to fix some things.”
Her lips curved up in a small smile, and her gaze lit. “Oh, Gray. Would you really do that for me—for us?”
His heart lightened and expanded in his chest. She forgave him, or she wouldn't be asking. “Depends,” he drawled. “Do I have to like it?”
Her smile widened, and this time she let him pull her close enough to kiss. Her lips were soft and warm as silk.
“Not as long as you work at it and promise to be truthful about your feelings—no more macho-man ‘Everything’s fine, babe. Let’s move on.’”
He waggled his brows at her. “Me? I’m not the one whose nose will grow if I tell a lie … Pinocchio.”
She was laughing as he kissed her, but he turned it into sighs of pleasure as he nuzzled his way down her throat and nipped at the sensitive place where it curved into her shoulder.
“Let me make love to you,” he murmured into her cleavage, lifting her up off her feet.
She wrapped her legs around his hips and hung on, one hand in his hair, her heart beating fast under his lips. “Oh, yes, Gray.”
This time he carried her into his bedroom, where he undressed her with slow care, kissing each new bared curve and hollow. He spent extra time on her bare breasts, fondling and sucking gently until both nipples were tight, rosy berries on her pale breasts. Then he pushed her panties down and kissed her there, too.
“Gray,” she protested—although not very hard, “I’m sweaty from dancing, and—you know.”
“I do know,” he agreed, nuzzling the soft curls on her mons. “And you smell delicious. Sweet, musky Brynne. Missed your smell, and your taste.”
And then he put out his tongue and tasted her, and turned her protest to soft moans of delight. When she was clutching at him, her honey slicking his fingers, he rose up over her and fitted himself to her. Poised at her entrance, he waited for her to open her eyes. Then he thrust carefully home, deep inside her hot, wet, infinitely welcoming center.
Bracing himself on his hands, planted at her shoulders, he moved inside her with slow deliberation.
“Come here,” she murmured, reaching up to him, her face flushed and soft with desire.
He shook his head. “Oh, no. Not this time … I want to watch us together. Don’t wanna miss a thing.”
And he didn’t, keeping his eyes open even as she trembled and shook under him, her eyes falling shut, face lovely with pleasure. She tightened around him until he gave in and let his own orgasm sweep through him, emptying him out body and heart, leaving only bliss behind.
He dropped to his elbows over her with a groan, and nuzzled his face into her breasts. “Mm-mm. Not that I don’t appreciate a risky tango in the alley, but I do like a nice, comfy bed.”
She tangled her fingers in his hair. “Mm-hmm.”
He smiled against her breast, and pressed little kisses over her warm, damp skin. He’d pleased her, which magnified his own pleasure so much more.
“Oddest thing, though,” he said, lifting his head. “I’m sort of craving a margarita. Guess I never did get to drink mine at the Kokopelli. You want one?”
She yawned and stretched languorously as he withdrew from her. “I’ll just have a sip of yours.”
“Share it is.” Gray grabbed a pair of gym shorts from a drawer, pulled them up, and headed to the kitchen, shoving his hair back as he walked. He felt better than he had in months—relaxed, happy and ready to move a mountain or two. In the morning, that is. Now he wanted a drink, and then he wanted to spoon with his soft, sweet lady and sleep for ten hours or so.
Whistling softly to himself, he pulled tequila from the cupboard, the bottle of mix from the fridge, and a fat, old fashioned goblet—the closest his Gran had to a margarita glass—from the dish cupboard.
He poured, added ice and mixed, then tasted. Ah, just right. Tart, sweet and with a kick.
E’ea would no doubt approve.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Drink in one hand, tequila bottle in the other, Gray had just turned to put the bottle back in the cupboard when he saw a flicker of light from the corner of his eye.
“Babe?” he began, “you decide you wanted your own …” The words froze in his throat, and his body tightened, adrenaline racing.
That was not Brynne.
He set down the drink so fast it slopped onto the counter, grabbed his pistol from the drawer, hefted the bottle in his other hand, and prowled along the hallway, ready to protect Brynne, and his family home. Guess they weren't quite done with the threat after all.
The green light was emanating from his studio … and from the slim woman who stood before his easel, and the nearly finished painting of Logan Stark and his space ship.
Slowly, she turned to face him, and smiled, more acid green light leaking from her mouth and eyes. Her short hair was slicked against her head, and she wore a dark bodysuit of some kind, making her look as if she could have stepped from the painting behind her.
She also looked tough and athletic, like maybe a female cop or pro athlete.
“Who are you?” he growled.
Her smile widened and she tilted her head eerily. “I am your assassin, Grayson Stark. I have been paid much by the Taurians to destroy you and thus all your progeny. Did you like my decoy?”
“She was okay, if you like the obvious type,” he answered. He shifted, the tequila sloshing in the bottle. Damn, he’d left the lid off. Could still be a weapon, though. He could toss it in her eyes—that would burn. Distract her long enough to … do something. Anything.
Strangely, the woman’s gaze dropped to the bottle, and she thrust her head forward, like an animal casting for a scent. “What is that smell?”
* * *
E’ea streaked through the portal, her prisoner securely in her grasp. The guardian’s triumph at capturing her prey was leaching away. Uneasiness was overtaking it, and she was not sure why. She slowed.
“Continue your approach,” one of the guards at the Galactic Guard facility stated serenely. “Maintain trajectory.”
“Yes,” E’ea agreed automatically. But when her prisoner moved inside the globe that imprisoned her, instead of quelling this instantly, E’ea waited.
The prisoner emanated humor, increasing E’ea’s unease tenfold. “Communicate,” she ordered. “Why are you amused?”
“Because you, junior guardian, have been duped.”
“Explain.”
“Gladly, if only to humiliate y
ou. I am not the real assassin. And you are too late to stop the genuine killer.”
E’ea flinched. That was it—this explained her unease.
“Prisoner continuing unescorted,” she stated, already preparing to launch back the way she’d come.
Oh, she had been so stupid! What if she was already too late?
She launched at a greater speed than she had ever traveled, but the sound of mocking laughter followed her across the stars.
* * *
“Gray?” Brynne’s voice, taut with worry, sounded from the hallway.
Gray stiffened. “No!” he called. “Brynne, go back. Don’t come in here.”
He walked toward the assassin, fear for himself following away in sheer terror of what this creature might do to Brynne. “So, I’m here,” he said. “Take me already. Let’s go right now.”
The alien tipped her head again. “Oh, no. Not so fast, Grayson Stark. I wish to see your mate.”
“She’s not important,” he insisted, his voice rising. “C’mon, bitch. You want me, take me. Do it.”
But it was too late. The alien’s gaze had narrowed, beaming past him to Brynne, standing in the doorway, wearing his tee, her eyes wide in her pale face.
“Sooo, this is the female with whom you reproduce,” she crooned. “Or would have, had I not intervened.”
She beckoned to Brynne. “Approach, human female.”
Brynne scurried to Gray’s side, so close he could hear her breathing, fast and shallow.
The alien examined her, and Gray calculated how fast he could shoot her host body, shoving Brynne behind him at the same time, before any bolts of acid green light could shoot her way.
But strangely, the alien’s gaze flicked back to Gray again, and she thrust out her face and sniffed again, harder this time, her eyes narrowing in what looked like greed.
‘It smells like twilight’ E’ea’s voice echoed in his mind. ‘Like bliss … like peace.’
Gray held the open bottle of tequila up and waggled it, letting some of the liquid splash over his hand. “This what you smell?" he asked. "It's a human, ah, strength enhancer. Great for sex and … battle.”
He felt Brynne’s start of surprise. He shook his head slightly, hoping only she would understand. And his smart, savvy woman grabbed it and ran with it.
“No, Gray, don’t give her any!” she pleaded, her hands fluttering. “It will—it will enhance her powers and then we'll never be able to stop her.”
Gray winced. Okay, she might be over-doing it just a tad.
But the alien smiled like a shark. “You won’t be able to stop me anyway, puny humans. Now give me the container.”
“Oh,” Brynne sighed in gusty resignation. “You’d better give it to her, Gray.”
He held out the half-empty bottle, and the alien grasped it in both hands. She held it to her nose and breathed in, voicing a croon of anticipation. The tequila began to swirl upward, spiraling in a stream up into the air, coiling before her face like a snake.
“Do not move,” she warned them. “I will end your insignificant lives when I have finished my treat.”
“Knock yourself out,” Gray invited under his breath. Literally.
He grabbed Brynne’s hand and squeezed, the two of them hardly breathing as the alien steadily glugged half a bottle of expensive tequila.
When she had swallowed the last drop, Gray gathered himself, his body quivering with the need to act. Wait for it …
The woman stood very still for a long moment, eyes closed, licking her lips. Then she opened her eyes and stared at him and Brynne, green light flaring and ebbing through her human host's eyes and mouth, both wide with astonishment and dismay.
The empty bottle slid from her grasp to thump on the rubber mat under his easel.
“This is … quite shur-prishing,” the woman told them.
Then she swayed, and slowly, slowly tipped forward like a felled tree, landing on the mat with a thud. She lay in a motionless heap, face down.
Gray sprang on her. Knee in her back, he grasped her wrists together and looked to Brynne. “Bring me a belt or something to tie her up with,” he ordered.
“Okay!” Brynne raced from the room.
* * *
E’ea arrived to find the couple seated in the lone armchair in the room, Brynne curled in Grayson’s lap, his arms around her, as they both regarded the woman trussed like rodeo calf on the floor.
E’ea hovered in the middle of the room, nearly unable to believe what she observed.
“Grayson, Brynne,” she said when she could communicate. “You have somehow overpowered one of the most feared and reviled assassins in this galaxy. Kindly share with me how you have accomplished this feat.”
“Twilight,” Gray drawled. “Better known as tequila. You found it hard to resist—she found it impossible. Came here to kill us and went on the mother of all benders instead.'
'She’s breathing, so I don’t think it killed her human host, but she'll need the EMTs. They’re waiting outside—they'd like you to get rid of the alien before they come in.”
“I marvel at your ingenuity in neutralizing a being you could never have bested physically,” E’ea said, joy and pride in them sparkling through her. “Having witnessed this, it is small wonder to me that the two of you will found a dynasty that will affect the settlement of the galaxy. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Brynne said, giving Gray a look of pride. “But it was all Gray’s idea.”
He returned the look with a new softness that E’ea was extremely glad to observe. “You figured out what I was doing and ran with it, sweetheart. Made it believable.”
“Well done,” E’ea pronounced. “You have the galaxy’s thanks. I will now remove the assassin from Earth for good. Upon hearing of this one's fate, no others will have the courage to try again."
"What will be her fate?" Gray demanded. "She tried to kill me, Brynne, and you, as well as not giving a damn for her host human. I want the punishment to be really, really harsh."
"It will be," E'ea assured them quietly. "She will be permanently incarcerated in a cage of distorted light which her powers will be forced to work against until they have dwindled, and she is extinguished forever. I am told it is an extremely unpleasant way for our kind to perish, but it is the only way to be sure she is unable to return to her evil ways.'
'Also, we have found the Taurians who offered the bounty and incarcerated them on Deep Six, a prison planet not unlike your Arctic. Both they and she have been made examples of. You will be safe now.”
“Yeah, you said that before,” Gray retorted.
E’ea’s light flickered. “You are correct, and you have my most abject apologies, Grayson. I confess I allowed myself to be blinded by the pride of making my first capture, and failed to search for further risk.”
“You did fine, E’ea,” Brynne said instantly. “I hope you receive a commendation for this—or whatever they give guardians like yourself.”
“With your help, my young friend,” E’ea said, her glow brightening to halo around Brynne for a few seconds. “You have been very brave.”
“Damn straight she has,” Gray agreed proudly.
“So have you, Gray,” Brynne told him. “You tried to sacrifice yourself for me. That was … heroic.”
E’ea was amused to see the cocky artist’s cheeks redden. “As long as I’m your hero,” he told Brynne.
“It makes a difference, does it not?” E’ea asked him gently. “When you are fighting not just for your own safety, but for someone else … and for those who will follow.”
Gray nodded, giving her a look that said he'd learned what was most important in his world. “You’re right about that. Guess I’ll end up being a daddy after all.”
Brynne gave them both a look. “What?”
Gray kissed her cheek. “I’ll explain later. Long story—and first, I have a question. The bright green light this assassin could give off? Brynne, you said you saw it before."
E'ea looked to Brynne, who nodded. "I did. The night I crashed … I was driving along the lake road. And I was upset, but the last thing I remember is that brilliant green light, blinding me—and I swerved to miss it, and that's when I drove off the road."
Gray closed his eyes hard. "So, we can lay that at this bitch's feet too. It wasn't just … what I said?"
"Oh, no, Gray," Brynne said quickly, putting her hand on his face with a look of pure love that made E'ea sigh with pleasure. "It wasn't your fault. Have you been thinking that all this time?"
"Yeah," he said. "I was a complete asshole to you that night. I made you cry."
She kissed him. "You also pointed out some hard truths about us. I was bending myself into a pretzel to be the woman you wanted, you were pushing me to be myself, and we were both miserable."
E'ea flickered to recapture their attention. "You have now both realized the truth. Brynne's crash was caused only indirectly by you, Gray. She was killed—murdered—because the assassins saw her as your most likely choice to procreate. You were still the main target, but that night she presented an easier one."
Gray nodded grimly. "Anyway, I guess everything turned out in the end. Now Brynne and I just have to figure out where we go from here.”
Brynne frowned. “I can go my own way, Gray. I’ll be just fine. I mean, how many murder victims get a second chance? I'm going to take mine and use it.”
He gave her a squeeze. “Not what I meant, babe. Already told you—and showed you—I want you to use your second chance with me beside you. But how are we gonna go back to Coeur d’Alene and tell your mom, your friends and those stuffed shirts in the law office that, 'Hey, guess what? Brynne's alive after all.' How are we going to explain where you’ve been? We can’t tell them the truth, that’s for sure.”
She sagged against him. “Oh, my gosh, you’re right. What are we going to do about that?”
E’ea hummed eagerly. “I can answer this, my human friends. It will be my privilege and pleasure to assist in Brynne’s re-assimilation to her former life.”
Gray raised his brows, and she hummed again. “Worry not, Grayson Stark. I do have powers, you know.”
