Bayne Page 5

  “I was… curious.” Her gaze dropped to the wine glass in her hand as she swilled the remaining liquid. “I’ve been curious since you locked him up, but I wanted you to volunteer the information.”

  “And because I haven’t, you decided to grill me about it?”

  Malia snorted. “I am not grilling you. I asked a simple question, politely, I might add. If you choose not to answer, that’s fine, but don’t make wild accusations.”

  “He pulled me out of the wreckage and helped me recover.”

  The wine spun round and round. “So you were… close.”

  “I suppose so, why?”

  “What was his opinion on Terranis?”

  Bayne frowned. “That it was a backwater planet not worth my time. He was right insomuch that other planets were more important to consolidating my position.” He didn’t see where this line of questioning was taking them. “I guess he didn’t like the place, which is why he doesn’t like you. I don’t share either opinion, if it helps.”

  She gave him a brief smile. “That’s nice, but it doesn’t solve the problem.”

  “Which is what?”

  “I don’t think he dislikes Terranis because of what happened to you.” She drained her glass and put it on the table. Her glance was dark, troubled. “I think it has to do with what you might remember.”

  “Remember?” he echoed, at a loss. “I don’t—”

  “No, you don’t, do you? Bayne, I’ve… look, I didn’t mean to, I was just searching for schematics on the communicators, but I found… files. And curiosity got the better of me.”

  Bayne put his glass down. “What kind of files?”

  “Your personal log. I just… wanted to get to know you better.”

  Something dark simmered in his gut. She’d pried into his personal file? How dare she? He glared at her. “And you couldn’t ask?”

  “I could, but you wouldn’t know the answers. Bayne, I know you can’t recall what happened, that the report into the crash comes only from Grieves’ recount of events. I… I cross referenced other files.” She plaited her fingers together and the knuckles whitened as she took a breath. “Your reports were like reading someone else’s entirely. There was nothing of you, of the man I know, in them whatsoever. Not even the name.”

  He jolted. “What?”

  “Bryce,” she murmured, lifting her eyes to meet his. “Your real name is Bryce.”

  The universe stopped.

  “No, I…” It resonated deep within him. “I’d lost my memory. Brain damage caused by the crash and…” He couldn’t finish; the betrayal was far too great.

  “Grieves filled you in.” Her smile was sad. “He told me on the station that there was something human in you despite his best efforts. That was my first clue. And you’ve been so different since he was put out of contact. The rest wasn’t hard to figure out. Stumbling on your file just gave me the details I couldn’t guess at.”

  “He made me.” He couldn’t get over that fact. “Everything I know is a lie.”

  Malia shook her head. “Not everything. No amount of manipulation could change your basic character. It also explains your temper—your subconscious must have struggled with the dichotomy between what you were told and what you felt.”

  He thought that over. “It makes some sense, I suppose. But then why did I accept your offer, if I was that angry?”

  “I don’t know, but maybe because he was so against me. I think some part of you knew he was lying.” She smiled. “A rather pedantic part of you, clearly.”

  Bayne couldn’t smile. “Twenty years, Malia. I’ve trusted that man for twenty years. More than half of my life living something that someone else told me. That he lied to me about.”

  “I know, Bayne, and I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I shouldn’t have been digging.”

  He grabbed her hand and held it tight. “No. You were right. And this isn’t your fault.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. I don’t know what I can recover, but at least I know Grieves lied to me. That I don’t have to be a person who never felt right. You’ve no idea… I’ve no idea who I am anymore.”

  “Bryce,” she said. Her eyes flickered over his face. “It suits you, so much better than Bayne does.”

  “Close enough to the original that I’d buy it, but different enough to matter. To be the name feared across the galaxy.”

  “We might never be able to eradicate that fear, Bayne. You should know that now.”

  He knew that, but, “We?”

  Her eyes softened. “Okay, so the seduction worked. Don’t let that get to your head.”

  Bayne chuckled as he hauled her onto his lap. “Me? Absolutely not.”

  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 relationshi
p 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?