Bayne (6 page)

Eight

She hadn’t meant to fall in love. But somewhere between the gifting of the laboratory and the change in his demeanor, Malia had crossed from feeling affection to a much deeper emotion. She’d denied it until stumbling over those files had revealed her instincts were right and there was something very wrong about Grieves.

Terranis had been her home, until her father died. Then it had ceased to be a haven and became instead her prison; one she escaped by going to the station and immersing herself in another world. Bayne’s world, though she’d not known that at the time. Now she was living there every moment and it felt so right she didn’t want to go back.

Bayne was her choice. No.
Bryce
was her choice. The man he used to be shone through the shadow of lies and deceit, capturing her heart and soul. Perhaps it was the mechanic in her, this wanting to mend what Grieves had broken, but whether it was or not, she needed to. She needed him whole.

She kissed him, her hands on his broad shoulders, and let his tongue into her mouth. He tasted of wine and she lapped it up greedily. His arousal pressed against the inside of her thigh.

“Wait,” she breathed, and slid off his lap. Standing, Malia undid the clasps of her dress and let it fall.

His eyes raked her hungrily. “God, but you are perfect. Come here.”

“Now, Bryce, who put you in charge?” Kneeling over him, she braced her weight on the back of the chaise and threaded the fingers of her free hand in his hair. She tilted his head back and gave him a mock glare. “If anyone’s handing out orders tonight, it’s going to be me.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.”

Malia chuckled, but didn’t imagine he would adhere to that. As he pulled her down and covered her mouth with his, she found she didn’t care, either. She surrendered for a moment, limbs going lax and her spine curving in so she was pressed against his jacketed chest. Then she grabbed his wrists and pushed his arms away.

“First order is no hands. You touch me only when I allow it.”

It wasn’t about revenge, but trust. Every relationship was founded on it, after all. She needed to be able to trust him, for him to trust her. The way his eyes darkened and how he clenched his jaw made it clear he struggled to restrain himself.

“Bryce?”

Some of the tension leeched out at his name—his real name—and he loosed a sigh. “Yes.”

She smiled and brushed his lips with a light kiss. “Thank you.”

Her first order of business was removing the heavy jacket he wore. She let him assist her, then tossed the discarded garment aside to run her hands over his chest. Doubt clouded his face. Malia shook her head.

“This doesn’t bother me, Bryce,” she told him, fingering the metal ribs that caged the left side of his torso. “I wish you’d foregone the experience, but I still think you are beautiful.”

“I don’t understand how you can think that. I’m scarred and ugly.”

“Scarred, yes.” She traced the puckered flesh up the center of his chest and across the shoulder. It marred the side of his neck, up behind his ear where it disappeared into his hair. She didn’t doubt for a moment that he wore it long to disguise the burn. “Ugly, no. Not to me.”

“I thought I was a monster. You thought I was a monster.”

Malia nodded. “I did, but it was never about your arm, Bryce. I told you that as well.”

He smiled slightly. “You did.”

“Right, well, shut up then.”

He laughed, only to hiccup on the sound when she dropped a hand to his groin. She stroked him through the leather of his trousers, then found the metal zipper. Held his gaze as she drew it down, a wicked smile playing about her lips. His good hand gripped the armrest of the chaise.

“No hands,” she repeated and slid off his lap to kneel between his legs. He made a strangled sound as she teased his erection through the gap in his trousers and took him into her mouth. She ignored his groan of frustration and took her time, licking his shaft slowly. He tasted wonderful; musk and salt combining in a heady mix that made her sex pulse.

Malia watched him grasp at cushions in an attempt to comply with the rule she’d stipulated—watched the sweat bead on his forehead and chest, listened to the sharp heaves of his breath, to groans and half mumbled curses, felt the quiver of muscles in his legs, the slow build of tension within his body—and felt a surge of power. The Overlord of Sytharion, ruler of a galaxy, the man a thousand worlds feared as Bayne and he came undone beneath her hands and mouth.

Alongside the pleasure came another emotion, driven by the jealous desire to be the only woman to see him like this, to be the only one to make him break just so she could hold him together. She pulled away and stood on unsteady legs, clambered onto his lap and slid her arms around his neck, then kissed him fiercely.

When she released him, she gazed into his dark brown eyes and bared her heart, her soul, herself. “I love you.”

~*~

Lightning flashed down Bayne’s spine. He stared at Malia, hardly daring to believe he’d heard her correctly. Memory didn’t allow him to know if he’d loved before the accident, but he definitely hadn’t experienced it since—he had neither loved nor been loved.

Of course, Grieves had made sure no one ever got close and now he looked back on events, Bayne could see how easily he’d allowed the man to lead him. Going against his demand that Malia be killed had been the first defiance in more than twenty years, and it seemed that action had broken the captain’s hold. Or it had been the start.

He touched her cheek, awed by her strength of heart. She should hate him for what he had done, not forgive him so completely. Not learn to love him.

“Why?”

She smiled and hitched a shoulder. “I don’t know. I just do.”

“Malia…”

“Don’t. You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know that this… I don’t want just sex, Bryce. I want you.”

“But Terranis?” He didn’t dare to hope. “We’re headed back there now.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” She laughed softly and he knew she was teasing. Her finger traced the ruined shell of his left ear. “I wasn’t planning on leaving, not unless you wanted me to.”

He had no doubt. “Hell, no.”

“Then the rest we can work on.” She tilted her head. “Afterwards.”

There wasn’t a reason to ask—she made it obvious by sinking down onto him.

He wanted, needed, to touch her, but he was bound by her order. Nothing else restrained him. It didn’t matter, because there was no way he would risk the delicate balance of their relationship by going against the simple thing she’d asked of him. Even considering the fact that if he gripped the seat much tighter, it would tear.

She rose inch by inch, drawing him out until he groaned, then pushed back down just as slowly. Tormenting him—he could see it in the gleam of her blue-green eyes, the mischievous smile at the corners of her mouth. She wouldn’t let him touch her and by supporting herself on the chaise, kept her body from touching his.

“Malia,” he complained.

Her smile grew. “I know, but I haven’t said. It’s not your decision to make.”

Bayne wasn’t used to not being able to decide, not being able to control. He gathered that was half the point. The other was that she got to decide and control as she saw fit. Exactly as she hadn’t been able to the first time they’d fucked.

“I need to touch you.”

“Need, Bryce? Why do you need to touch me? Am I not performing well enough without your guidance?”

Damn the woman
. “I didn’t say that,” he snapped. “But I… God, Malia, you are utterly naked. What man could resist stroking that glorious creamy skin or tweaking those luscious nipples into harder buds?”

She stilled on a sharp exhalation, her eyes widening and color staining her cheeks. That, given she was naked while his trousers circled his hips, was ridiculous. He would laugh except it wasn’t funny. He wanted her so much he hurt; a bone-deep ache he doubted could ever be truly satisfied.

Then she gave him a hot-eyed glare. “Keep your hands off, Bryce.”

He thought she might be angry, but if she was then it didn’t show in her actions. She ground down and rocked, her moan mingling with his. There was nothing else for it—he could only lie back against the chaise and watch her ride him.

It was quite the sight. Her hair cascaded wild down her arching back, her head thrown back to reveal the white column of her neck. She had her eyes squeezed shut while her mouth hung open as she panted with pleasure. Sweat gleamed on her skin. Her breasts bounced at each jerk of her hips, her erratic rhythm broadcasting how close she was.

He was closer.

The climax tore through him and he tore the chaise, his metal fingers wrenching the material off the back. Malia froze, eyes wide, then collapsed giggling against his chest.

“So glad I told you to keep your hands off me,” she wheezed. “Rather the chaise than me.”

“I would never hurt you,” he replied. “But for the love of all that’s holy, can I please touch you now?”

“Yes.”

Bayne wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as his heartbeat slowed. Thinking back, he didn’t think she’d climaxed, that she’d been too intent on making him come undone to find her own release. Well, such dedication needed to be reciprocated, did it not?

Shifting her, he put his left arm under her legs then launched himself to his feet. She yelped in surprise. He laughed and held her tight against his chest, silently assuring her she was safe and he would not let her fall. He would never hurt her or allow any harm to come to her. No matter what the cost to himself.

“I think, my dear Malia, such a performance deserves me taking you to bed.” He smirked down at her. “I can’t promise you’ll get much sleep, though.”

With a soft laugh, she draped one arm around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. “That’s okay, Bryce. I don’t want to sleep, anyway.”

Nine

Malia had gotten perhaps two, maybe three hours of sleep. Yawning as she slipped out of bed, she left Bryce to slumber undisturbed. The Overlord needed his sleep and she needed more than an hour without screaming through an orgasm.

After a shower, she dressed in her usual trousers and sleeveless top, then headed down to her lab. On the way, she passed a pair of soldiers, who smiled and nodded in greeting. She stopped and watched them walk away, startled at the friendship offered. Was it simply that she was the Overlord’s woman, or something more?

“Definitely more,” Giles replied when she asked about it. He’d become a good friend since he’d been assigned as her tutor; someone whose opinion she trusted on a ship full of strangers. “Don’t think the crew hasn’t noticed the change in him.”

She’d not considered that. “Are they happy with that change?”

Giles looked at her. “Most of them.”

It was a warning, and one she took note of. She nodded and picked up the communicator. Giles joined her at the bench and they worked as seamlessly as they had over the last few days. There was a comfort in the familiar routine Malia needed. Today wasn’t the same as the last, because she’d crossed a line in her relationship with Bryce and it felt new and strange, as if she’d miss-stepped somehow.

Not that she regretted it. Not for one moment. But she was painfully aware others were watching and judging, and not all of them in her favor. Grieves had supporters as well as detractors and though that was not very many, it was enough to make her life… unpleasant, should they choose to.

“Malia?” Giles said then. She looked up and the scientist frowned. “We’re two days out from Terranis. I was wondering—”

“I’m staying.”

Surprise flickered over his face, swiftly followed by delight. “Ah! Good.” He smiled wider. “Good.”

She blushed and adjusted the coil on the communicator, then turned it on. Static crackled. “There, you see—I told you it would work.”

“Indeed, you did.”

Malia twisted the dial to improve reception. Words buzzed through the white noise. She made a second adjustment to the coil and tuned the device again.

“…
incoming, my lord. Shields are raised
…”

She looked up at Giles. “Apparently I can contact the bridge. Or at least hear them.”

“Sounds like we have a problem,” he replied. “Maybe we should get up there and see if we can be of assistance.”

“Good idea.”

They left the lab at a jog. Malia let Giles take the lead, since she still tended to get lost in the labyrinth of corridors that crisscrossed the space ship. Halfway there, a siren screeched into life and the lights went red.

A vibration shook the ship.

“What’s going on?” she called out.

“No idea. Come on, hurry!”

She sped up, though running down a passageway when it twisted and pitched wasn’t easy. Steam burst from a pipe and she dodged the plume, spinning to stare at it. Giles grabbed her arm. She nodded and ran with him.

The bridge was in chaos. Sparks and smoke rose from several of the stations. Beyond the window she could see several large rocks. Asteroids. Her stomach dropped into her boots. They’d been hit. How bad was the damage? And where the hell was Bryce?

“Here.” A strong arm curved around her waist and she expelled a sharp breath of relief. “Can you try and get the shields back up? They’re under forty per cent and we don’t stand a chance at that level.”

“What happened? Shouldn’t the scanners have picked the field up?”

“Should have done.” His smile was grim. “Would have done had we not been sabotaged.”

Horror spread through her on a cold wave. “Grieves?”

“His sycophants. One of them died in the attempt, which I can’t be sorry about.” He let her go and faced her. Blood gathered at his temple. She touched the wound gently. “Leave that,” he told her. “Doesn’t matter in the greater scheme of things.”

Malia dropped her hand and went to the shield console. The steel was tarnished by soot and the display was dim. She knelt down and removed the panel from the underside, then glanced up to find Bryce watching her.

“I can do this,” she said. “You make sure your crew’s okay.”

He nodded and vanished into the haze of smoke. Her throat closed over. What if she never saw him again?

But she couldn’t think like that. She had to concentrate on the task at hand. She pulled out a handful of scorched wiring and began to strip the ruined sections out. Someone handed her a fresh reel and she spliced it into the system. However, even that repair wasn’t enough.

“Is there somewhere we can divert power from?” she called out as the ship shook at another impact. “Like, I don’t know, but how about Grieves’s cell?”

This gained her a bark of laughter from one of the crew. He grinned at her. “I can jettison one of the storage sections and divert from there.”

“Do it.” She watched the glow of the display shine brighter. The level indicator rose, inching up to over sixty percent then stopping. Better, but not enough. “Can you give me more?”

“Not much more,” he said with a shake of his head.

Another rock slammed into the ship. More sirens set off, accompanied by the monotone voice of the computer informing the crew to evacuate. Malia swore and moved to the communications console. She silenced the computer with a slice of her wire cutter, then rerouted the power from that station to the failing shields. The level went up to eighty-three.

“Belay that order,” she shouted over the din. “Hold your positions! We can still get through.”

Going to the console that controlled life support, she elbowed the fraught-looking crew member out of her way and opened the lines, venting smoke from the bridge. The air cleared slowly, though the refreshed oxygen meant a couple of smoldering fires flared higher. Silence fell as the ear-aching siren finally shut off. It didn’t last. A moment later, the sprinklers switched on and doused everything and everyone in cold foam.

Malia wiped it off her face and found herself looking at Bryce. He was okay, bar the bump on his head. He pushed a hand through his hair, scattering foam. She tried, she really did, but the relief and sudden ridiculousness of the situation hit her hard. She dissolved into helpless laughter.

“Glad someone can see the funny side,” Bryce said wryly. “My ship is wrecked.”

She waded through the ankle-deep white froth covering the deck and wrapped her arms around him. Despite her amusement, she was glad to see him, glad he was safe. His good arm curved around her waist and held her tight against his body.

“How bad is the damage? Is it repairable?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not sure we should even if it was.”

That made her pull back to look at him. “Why not?”

“Maybe it’s better this way. Bayne and his crew could perish in the wreckage of his ship, never more to bring ruin on the galaxy.”

“I’m not about to go down with your ship, Bryce.”

“No, but there is a second in the hold and that is big enough to take most of us.”

“Take us where?”

“We’re two days from Terranis. It seems as good a place as any to start over.”

Malia loosened her grip and stepped back. “You want to give everything up and settle on Terranis?” Her gaze shifted to his temple. “Just how hard did you hit your head?”

“What I want,” he said and captured her hands. “Is to spend the rest of my life with you. If you’ll have a battered old man like me.”

As proposals went, it wasn’t the most romantic of settings, but Malia didn’t care. She squeezed his hands and nodded. “Of course I will.”

“Then Terranis?”

“Yes, but it can take only most of us? We can’t leave anyone behind, Bryce—they’ll die.”

He looked around. The crew gathered closer, watching him. He smiled. “Those that want to come to Terranis are welcome. There is a second ship, for those who would prefer to find their own way. The decision is yours.”

Several of the bridge crew stepped forward and declared loyalty to Bryce, including Giles, which didn’t surprise Malia in the slightest. Others declined to go to Terranis, though there seemed to be little bitterness behind that decision.

Giles folded his arms. “What about Grieves and his goons? I don’t want them with us and I doubt the others want them either.”

There was a murmur of discontent and Bryce looked down at Malia. She winced, but nodded. Grieves had made his decision already, as had those who had sided with him.

“They stay here,” Bryce said. “Though I’ll set the cells to unlock. Maybe they’ll be able to salvage the ship, maybe they won’t. But I won’t have it said I didn’t give them a fair chance.”

Malia hated the idea of leaving anyone, even Grieves, to die, but neither did she want him anywhere near her. The solution would have to do, and hopefully she could live with the guilt. “There’s nothing else for it, I suppose.”

“Signal the evacuation,” Bryce ordered. The shrill alarm changed note and the red lights shifted to amber. His hand gripped her arm. “Come on. We need to get going as well.”

~ * ~

Bayne closed the lid on his case and fastened it shut. He hadn’t packed much: just spare parts for his arm and the tools necessary to effect repairs. Everything else—all mementos of his life, of the lie he’d lived—could stay and burn. He had no use for them now.

A soft step behind him made him turn with a smile. Malia wrapped her arms around him, managing to sense his mood without him saying a word. He held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, and let the bitter thoughts crowding his mind go.

“I guess I get to start over,” he said, again experiencing a mix of elation and sadness. Though quite what he felt sad about, he had no idea. “Do you think your people will let me?”

Malia pulled back and stared at him, her gaze thoughtful. “Perhaps if you looked less like Bayne…” She lifted a hand and pushed his hair back. “It would be easily done, I think.”

She stepped away then and went to the desk. When she returned, she had a pair of scissors in her hand. She arched a questioning eyebrow and he nodded. Sitting on one of the dining chairs, he handed himself over to her gentle ministrations.

Straggles of black hair littered the floor as she worked. Her fingers teased and pulled, then the scissors sliced through follicles with a sliver of sound. Occasionally he felt the cold press of their sides, the glide of a sharp edge. But all Malia cut was hair.

It took her perhaps half an hour, but finally she took a step back and admired her handiwork. She gave a nod of satisfaction. “Very handsome,” was her verdict.

He ran a hand through. It was much shorter, no more than two inches, and it felt odd. Getting to his feet, Bayne headed to the bathroom and checked his reflection. It looked like him but… not. It also revealed more of his burnt left side than he was accustomed to allowing.

A shudder wracked the ship—a timely reminder they did not have much time left.

“Come on,” he said as he left the room. “We need to go.”

She took his hand and they hurried through the corridors, down to the hangers where the two smaller ships waited. They weren’t designed for long-haul space flight, but they would suffice. At least more than the dying ship they were housed in would. The crew had split roughly 40-60, with eighty choosing to go to Terranis. The rest would make their own way and Bayne wished them luck. He didn’t need it—he had Malia.