CATALYST
Solstice Locke
Copyright © 2020 Solstice Locke
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: Warren Design
To my spouse and kid
you deserve the first dedication
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
Acknowledgement
About The Author
CHAPTER ONE
DRINKS ARE ON ME
“Of course I want you,” Jade lied.
She was entwined in the arms of Captain Markos Shepard. Her predicament the result of his long suffered flirtation and her necessity. All their attempts at intimacy had been interrupted. This time, however, held the expectation that their embrace would lead to more than stolen pecks and stray touches.
Shepard’s hands wandered her body, a bit hasty and rough, but still with restraint. She had kept him on a tether for too long. Even now, in a place like this, she could sense his suspicion that she would find another excuse to stall the building excitement. While his touch explored her curves and hesitated just shy of squeezable parts, Jade’s fingers traced his coat’s exquisite stitching and flawless seams. She scraped her nails tenderly over embossed filigree details. Her breathing grew shallow.
One of Shepard’s large hands moved to her cheek, thumb resting under the curve of full lips. With a heady exhale he murmured, “Finally,” and his head dipped.
Jade dodged. His mouth met her neck and her fingers curled into his heavy lapels, stroking rich, expensive fabric. Velvet and leather. She bit her lip.
“It’s in the way,” Shepard said, head raised so that he could look at her while he misinterpreted her pawing of his coat. He shrugged the garment from broad shoulders, the brass buttons clanking together as he freed an arm. He tossed it aside—Jade winced as the cuff hit the dirty floor—and used his height to guide her toward the bed, the grandest feature in a modest rent-by-the-hour room. Shepard had only intended they use the room for two, but Jade had giggled and caressed until he shelled enough gold to ensure their privacy until sunrise.
The bed was in the corner, comforter rumpled, but not visibly dirty or soiled. Dimmed spheres lit the space in a soft glow, casting harsh shadows meant to encourage erotic imagination. He walked Jade backward until her legs hit the bed. She halted him with a delicate finger on his chest.
Shepard inhaled sharply through his nose. “What is it now—”
“Five minutes of light groping and then jumping into bed? Is that what you call seducing me, Captain?” His hazel eyes were dark with desire, as dark as Jade’s were bright and alert.
She slipped free of his towering body and pranced away—taking a breath of un-musked air, fucking ‘Meria, but the aftershave on him was suffocating. Jade stopped near a bottle of wine waiting on an old wobbly side-table.
Shepard turned away from the bed, the floorboards creaking under his boots. He drew a hand through his hair while the other rested on his hip. “I thought that’s what I’ve been doing for the greater part of a month. While you changed your mind constantly, the crew starting to question if I’d just add you to the ranks or drop you off somewhere. I’m not in the habit of keeping civilians—foreign civilians, aboard my ship for the fun of it. There has been a month’s worth of seduction since picking up you and that...friend—”
“Relax. All I meant was maybe we start with a few drinks.” Jade snatched the wine bottle from the table, steadied the accompanying glasses, and poured. “I had this ordered specially. I know you favor reds. And the year isn’t too bad considering the price I paid.” She lowered her lashes, speaking with her hips and shoulders, “I don’t know about you, Captain, but I was hoping for a much longer, drawn-out sort of evening. There’s no rush, remember?”
“Until you change your mind.”
She closed the distance between them with a sauntering gait, adjusting her shoulders to full effect on her cleavage. “I didn’t ask you to spend all that money just to tease you again. I’m...not an easy girl to seduce, Captain. I’m picky.” Her eyes drifted coyly to his face, meeting a stare that was as critical as it was skeptical, and she walked her fingers up his chest. The stem of the wine glass was pinned by her thumb so that when she reached his neck it waited like an offering. “But once you’ve captured my interest,” she wiggled the glass, “Once you’ve gotten through all those...pesky walls and self-preserving barriers, well, my dear, patient Captain, then I’d like nothing more than to ride you until sunrise.”
His face was impassive, but she noted the quick intake of breath, the subtle tightening of the muscles in his throat.
“And,” she continued, “A lady needs a bit of foreplay.”
His voice was controlled when he replied, “Suggestions have been made before.”
Jade laughed, loud and confident. “Take the drink, Captain.”
He took the glass of cheap wine and tilted the whole of it down his throat. Jade tipped her glass, let the wine rest against her lips, then set it down untouched.
“Not bad,” he moved around her for a refill, “I actually prefer a dark liquor, a whiskey or scotch, to this fruity sort of drink, but this is decent.” He downed more wine. Jade kept her gaze steady, mentally rolling her eyes while he drank. The man’s quarters was full of fruity wines while any decanters of liquor on display were still full. Mr. ‘I prefer fucking scotch.’
“Now.” He set his drink down hard and moved toward her. “This little dance of yours has lost its thrill. We are off my ship, as you requested. We’re alone. We’ve had our drinks. All...walls have been breached, as you say.” He invaded her space, arms coming up on either side of her body. There was a pause, then, “I haven’t been shy about wanting you,” his fingers worked through the long strands of her hair, his body drawing ever closer, “We’ve had weeks of foreplay and now I am going to kiss you.” Jade noticed a change in his eyes, a flash of determination layered under lust. He went for it, mouth puckered and imminent. Jade’s mind shuffled instantly to ‘nope.’
His lips crashed against her cheek. Panic made her turn at the last second.
“What the fu—”
He nearly pulled away, his frustration shifting toward real anger. He was a man pushed one step too far, strung too thin, reaching critical levels of sexual frustration. Jade jumped to recover the situation. Before he could leave, she pressed her body firmly against his, slipped her fingers into his hair and guided his face straight into her cleavage. Shepard was a tits sort of man. She gave a quiet sigh of relief.
While he was fondling and kissing, Jade mm’ed offhandedly, attempting to count in her head. If one glass was enough and he drank two, how many seconds
do I need to wait? Liam said ninety, so that leaves...forty? No...thirty. And it’s been...shit. How long has it been?
“Jade.” His tone was warning. Her actions had become slow and mechanical with thoughts of math, not at all the passionate touch she had promised. He must be extremely hard up to still be buying this.
Jade grabbed boldly for the bulge in his pants—which worked—but also renewed his vigor to get them horizontal.
Vall take it, her miscount on timing was throwing her off. He managed to work her back toward the bed without her realizing.
Eighteen seconds. Nineteen. ‘Meria this was the longest fucking thirty seconds.
When tugging wouldn’t free her from the confines of her corset he set to work on the laces up her back with practiced enthusiasm.
Ah, no. No, you don’t. Ten...um, nine?
Jade bounced as her back hit the mattress. Lovely. He braced his body with his arms and tugged down the edge of her corset. She yanked it back into place to keep her breasts from popping free. He was going for gold and she had let this get entirely too far.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—
Zero.
His body collapsed on top of her. The entirety of his weight pinned her flat against the mattress and forced the air from her lungs. When she attempted to whistle, there wasn’t enough breath left. She blew out, spit flying, with no sound to show for it.
Well, shit. The poor over-worked mattress sagged enough to ensnare her on all sides. Shepard pinned her arms holding her corset in place which were now stuck at such an angle that it was impossible to rally her muscles to lift him. She shimmed to get her knee under his bulk and push him high enough for her chest to expand. After a full breath, she released a long, trilling whistle before his weight crushed her again.
The door to the room opened and closed. Footsteps approached without a single creak in the floor.
Liam craned his head over Shepard’s shoulder. “He got much further than expected.”
“Get…’m…’ff.”
Liam pulled Shepard and Jade pushed until she was free. The body crashed to the floor.
Jade caught her breath while she turned and gestured to her open corset lacing. She had picked the laced corset specifically to delay intimacy. Her normal preference was a brown leather bodice that clipped in the front. No matter, Liam was as fast and efficient as any handmaid.
“I miscounted how long it would take to kick in,” she said as Liam pulled and tightened the lacing, “I thought you said thirty seconds.”
“I said ninety.”
“Yes, but that was if he drank a single glass. He drank two and then some.” She combed her fingers through her platinum hair to smooth out the tangles. When Liam finished her lacing she stuck two thumbs into her top, shimmied, and adjusted it to her chest.
“Half of ninety seconds is forty-five,” he said, deadpan. And, yet, somehow still condescending.
Once she was sorted she took a quick check of her make-up in the spider-webbed mirror. Liam took a roll of paper from his jacket’s inner pocket.
Liam’s job, while Jade was otherwise occupied, had been to forge Shepard’s release of command to her. Together they would present it to the crew along with the story that Shepard had lost the ship in a bad game of cards. He was so distraught and drunk that he couldn’t bring himself to see it handed over. Documentation and a signature would help the rest of the crew buy the story. Who questioned signed documents? Not pirates. At least, Jade was betting they wouldn’t.
“I found a guy to make this while you were up here. It’s better than I could do. We’ll just have to be cautious when we present it. Now, let’s finish up. I said I would be down in a half-hour to pay the guy,” Liam said. He crouched so he could better pilfer Shepard’s pockets.
Jade helped him search, patting down Shepard’s chest for hidden loot. “Old habits, I guess, but,” she separated trash from valuable in the palm of her hand, “For all his faults, he wasn’t cruel. Or unattractive. There was potential, but, getting to know him killed the mood.” She took Shepard’s holster and began to adjust the belt for her size.
“Yes, tragic.” Liam pried loose a gold ring from Shepard’s pinky.
“I just meant, on top of everything—” she gestured to Shepard’s body—his arm bent behind his head, “Robbing him might be a bit much.”
“Then put his gun back.” He pocketed the ring.
Their real mission was to get Shepard out of the way. Robbing him was merely lingering compulsion grown of necessity. Leaving behind potential value felt wasteful. The way not finishing a meal would feel if you’ve spent most of your life hungry. Wrong.
Jade freed the revolver from her new holster and popped open the cylinder. The gold light of an enchantment shown from the chambers. Shepard had boasted about this revolver for the better part of the month he spent ‘seducing’ her. The enchantment was powerful and pure—you could tell by the color, more gold than green—and crafted by the best corsair in Vacua. Gideon Muray was a revered name to anyone in need of illegal enchanting. A name criminals threw around when trying to sound impressive. “My sword has an authentic Muray enchantment.” That sort of bragging.
She gave the cylinder a spin, watching the glow form a perfect circle, then snapped it back into place. The rest of the gun was matte grey with copper trim. She traced the lines of metal, admiring the distinguished wear of age and use. Her fingers caught in dents around the handle and a thin, straight groove up the barrel. But as fine as the gun was, it was not the real treasure here.
Jade took the coat from where it had been thrown. A brocade coat, double-breasted, thick cuffs, and stitching that brought a tear to her eye. And it was her color, too. Dark emerald velvets on black leather with thick silver thread for contrast. She worked her arms into the sleeves and the coat devoured her.
“Told you it wouldn’t fit.” Liam flicked one of the flapping sleeves. He had appeared silently behind her, his face visible over her shoulder as she admired her reflection in the frosty mirror.
“Just give us a few nights alone,” Jade purred. She cuddled into the collar then pulled away, nose wrinkled. “Whew. Needs to air out a bit, too.” She already mapped out alterations in her head. In her life, she had never owned a piece of tailored clothing. Pulled-from-the-garbage didn’t offer custom fitting. So she adapted. Jade was never without her sewing kit—pieces collected over the years. She had even splurged and paid money for the good seam ripper.
This coat would be her finest alteration. It was already the grandest thing she owned. No, she didn’t need it. This coat was an indulgence. But Jade didn’t like to resist temptation so much as embrace it.
Her shoulders were straighter as she admired her reflection, the angles she could make out were, in her opinion, flattering. Jade spun so the coat fanned out around her legs.
“Mmhmm. Ooh. I look so hot. I loo—”
“Leaving.” Liam waved over his shoulder.
They left Shepard on the floor, locked the room, paid Liam’s forger with Shepard’s money, and left the Quivering Oak Inn behind. Darkness had overtaken the city, but street spheres and window lights and enchantment created a dim sort of brightness. People were still about. Moderate traffic. Jade and Liam weaved effectively toward the city’s dockyard.
“We made it,” she said, voice soft with the awe of it, “I can’t believe we’re here. Azlemaine.” Culture shock had never resonated so sharply as it did in Vacua’s capital. The streets were paved, the garbage was in bins where it belonged. Here, she could drop her lunch on the ground and still eat it. Back home the very air was enough to contaminate a good meal. Food was scarfed down, not savored, or you risked it marinating in the scent of fish or low tide. Here it smelled like fresh air with a hint of an angel’s laugh.
Jade sighed a faraway, dreamer’s sigh. She bumped casually into Liam as they walked, her eyes too full to watch where she was going. She reached out and let her hand run along the smooth stone of a corner building, noting how fre
e it was of caked in grime or grit or the other tells of a desperate nation. Her fingers crossed over thick, glowing veins running like a grid up each wall, up to the spired and domed rooftops, along the edges of long paned windows and threaded through the spaces and grooves of the sidewalk and street. A network of enchantments that lent a pulse to the air, made the city feel alive.
It had been unseasonably warm for the time of year, but the Glint woven throughout the city lent a cool chill to the air. Glint was the source of all enchantments in Liore. It was mined as a raw ore then refined to the glowing, sand-like particles that sustained civilized society. Glint didn’t provide just luxury, it was life. Gold. Jewels. Nothing compared to the value of Glint. It was precious—vital, but plentiful in all the mainland nations. Regulated, but not lacking. The islands of Harrowind, however, felt the strain of keeping up with the basic necessities of demand. Lights. Cooking. Sanitation. Nothing worked without Glint.
Jade had been born on the wrong side of the sea. Harrowind wasn’t her home. She only existed there. Vacua was where she belonged. She could have thrived on the streets of Azlemaine. Vacua’s founder had crafted a nation of success and prosperity. A land of academics and innovation. Vacua was the first nation to commercialize the flight enchantments that powered airships. Enchanter shops, legal and certified, were spaced closely down every street, where you could shop for any convenience you might need. Harrowind’s great contribution had been their water faring ships and the ability to negotiate the trade between each of the five nations. An island nation sitting at the heart of Liore. Then airships took over.
Liam kept pace with her, matching her sudden stops or rushed steps as if he were strolling an alley back home. The same dry, apathetic scowl on his face. He kept his hands in his pockets, hooded eyes looking straight ahead while Jade’s wandered with abandon. She stopped often to catch a wink at her reflection in shop windows, Liam had not looked at a mirror in weeks. Not that he would have fixed the sloppy lay of jet black hair poking his eyes if he had. He adjusted his course to suit her but otherwise kept to his thoughts.
Catalyst (The Second Cycle Book 1) Page 1
