“Yet Meshach has thousands,” she whispers. “If you kill him, you will never get your ship. If you kill him, the Gebosan fleet will descend upon us all, and blow us out of the sky.”
“I know.”
“You’re right. We need to leave,” she says. “We need to let him search the Dinghy and not find me, then we need to get as far away from Miscellany and Gebose as we can. But first…” She crawls forward on her knees, then she lays herself down on the bed in front of me. And this time she keeps her nervous gaze glued to mine. “First, you have to tear me.”
“Don’t say it like that,” I growl. “It’s much more than that.”
“Not to them.”
“I don’t give a fuck about them. I only care about you.”
“Then show me.” She slowly bends her knees and spreads her legs, and my focus is drawn to the juncture of her thighs. My cock swells even more.
“You’re sure? You understand what this means?”
“It means that you would raze entire planets for me. Even though I can’t give you a child.”
You will have children, the beast insists. Again, I shove him back, and this time that isn’t difficult. He’s placated by the sight of my woman with her legs spread for me.
“Please,” I beg her, forcing my gaze to her face—to her eyes—as the last of my willpower slips through my fingers. “Don’t do this if you don’t mean it. The beast is willing to take you even if you don’t want me, because he believes you will want me, eventually. But I don’t want anything from you that isn’t real. You’ll be breaking my heart.”
Grace sits up and takes my hand. She tugs me gently toward the bed, then she slides her hand up the back of my arm and draws me down until her mouth meets mine. “I mean it,” she whispers against my lips, on the end of a kiss sweeter than fresh honey. “Show me what this beast has to offer us both…”
9
GRACE
I KISS HIM AGAIN, and when I pull back, something in Vaughn’s eyes has changed. He’s no longer alone in there. Though the truth, I suppose, is that he never has been.
That strange thrumming sound echoes from his throat, and the ache inside me deepens. Moisture builds between my legs, and Vaughn’s nostrils flare. His eyes dilate. And the next thing I know, I’m beneath him, his massive weight supported above me by both of his arms. The hot, hard length of him lies between my legs, a promise I’m not sure I can endure.
“Wait,” I whisper again, as his lips trail down my throat. “I…” But I don’t know how to explain my hesitation, after I’ve begged for this. After he’s promised me the world and offered to die for me.
I don’t know how I’ll ever manage to tell him the truth, but I know I have to do this. Yet… “I’m sorry. I’m scared.”
He lifts himself again, until I can look up into his eyes. “Haven’t I already shown you the pleasure you can expect from me?”
I give him a hesitant nod. “But that… That’s going to hurt.”
Regret flickers behind his eyes. “Maybe for a minute. But I swear to you that it won’t only hurt.” Then he crawls down my body again, sucking and caressing, leaving my nipples wet and hard. He nibbles the point of my hip, then moves lower to nip at my ticklish inner right thigh.
A little shriek breaks free from my throat, and he laughs, while I bite my lip. Then I feel his fingers at my entrance for just a second before they slide inside me. His tongue flicks against that sensitive nub higher up, and in seconds, I am panting again, building toward another release. Spiraling so rapidly toward pleasure that the ceiling above me has lost focus. “Vaughn…” I breathe as I race toward the crest. Then—
His fingers withdraw, leaving me aching and empty. That little bud of my pleasure throbs, abandoned.
Vaughn crawls up my body again, and this time when he settles between my legs, I can feel him at my entrance. Prodding gently. “The next time you come, it will be with me buried inside you.”
“Yes.” I want that. I want that so badly. “But…” But he isn’t going to fit. I need to be torn, but I don’t want to be shredded.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “The beast believes this will work.”
“Any chance the women he’s used to are…bigger?”
Vaughn chuckles. “Sotelo and Lilli manage. A lot.”
I nod. “Okay. Do it. Please.”
His hand slides between us, gently rubbing that little bud. I groan, and my hips arch toward him on their own. “That’s it,” he whispers. Then he pushes forward slowly. The sensation is…foreign, even after his fingers. I close my eyes, and he takes my chin in his free hand, balancing his weight on just one arm. “Look at me, Grace. Stay here with me. We’ll never have this moment back again.”
So I open my eyes, and while he stares down at me, suspending us in an intense sort of intimacy, he pushes in a little farther.
A burning pain seems to split me in two, and I gasp. He stops. “Need some time?”
I blink, clutching the backs of his arms. “No. Just…please make it feel good again.”
“Breathe.” His hand slides between us once more, and he lightly circles that sensitive nub while he pushes the rest of the way inside me. Filling me. And it is done. I am torn. No longer of interest to Silas, or to Meshach.
This is all I need. I could stop him here. I should stop him here. But suddenly I don’t want to.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
Vaughn rocks against the front of my pelvis as he complies, and I gasp against his mouth at the pleasure that new pressure creates. He pulls back, sliding out of me as his tongue plunges into my mouth, then he slowly works his way forward again, and this time I feel him…inside. In that spot his fingers stroked earlier, only this isn’t his fingers. This is so much more. I’m so full of him that every move he makes strokes that spot, and in seconds, the burning is overwhelmed by the building of that now-familiar pressure. That escalating spiral of pleasure. Only it’s different now, with him inside me. It’s…more. Deeper. Fuller.
Vaughn groans. “You’re so damn tight. Can you handle more speed?”
“Yes,” I pant against his neck. “Please.”
His hand slides over my waist and beneath my backside, tilting my hips upward. Holding me in place as he begins to move faster, establishing a rhythm that leaves me breathless. Mindless. There is nothing, in this moment, but the feel of him inside me. Above me. He is everywhere. He is everything.
He could be mine. For real. Forever. He already thinks that’s true. That what we’re doing somehow inexorably connects us. I could just…let it.
But if I stay with him, Meshach will kill him—and possibly the entire crew—to get to me. I can’t do that to them. Which means there can only be this one moment between us.
It will be a glorious moment.
I close my eyes, now that his face is buried in my hair, and I let the sensations wash over me. I let them build until I am on the crest again. Needy. Desperate.
Vaughn groans. Then his strokes become shallow, narrowly avoiding contact with that sensitive bud. Contact I need.
“What’s wrong?” I open my eyes to find him staring down at me.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he whispers. “Only mine. Forever.”
“Why? Isn’t that what this means, you being buried inside me?”
“You have to say it. It’s important, and the beast won’t budge. I can’t let you come—I can’t finish this—until you say it.”
Guilt washes over me. Maybe it’s better if we don’t finish this. Maybe it’s better if I just walk away, even if he never understands that I was trying to protect him.
“Grace…” he begs, and need flickers in the gold of his eyes. He rocks against me again, pushing me so close to the edge that I strain up for him, seeking just one more moment of that delicious friction. But he only pulls back again, slowly sliding in and out of me in shallow strokes that only tease us both, until I’m as desperate as he is.
“Tell the beast to go back to sleep
,” I pant. “This is between you and me.”
“Please, Grace. Please tell me you’re mine. Let this be real.”
If I refuse, I’ll be breaking his heart. If I give in, it’ll only be to break his heart later on. But at least that way, we’ll have this moment, and it is real, even if it can’t mean what he thinks it does.
We can talk about the rest of this—about forever—later.
“Yours,” I whisper, determined to make that true, at least for this one moment. “I’m yours.”
“Oh, god,” he moans, as if the words alone give him pleasure. Then he thrusts forward again, harder now, and that intimate pressure builds to an almost excruciating peak. My body clenches around him, and I am blind from the need for release. I can’t think about anything else. I can’t—
He plunges in again, and I explode around him. My hips twitch, slamming up into him. Demanding more.
A beastly sound rips free from his throat, and with his next thrust comes a release of hot fluid inside me. Again, and again, as I clench around him, riding out my own pleasure, my legs clamped around his hips. Until finally, my orgasm subsides into the occasional pleasant aftershock.
“Grace,” he whispers as rolls us onto our sides, to keep from crushing me. He’s still buried deep inside me, and I’m starting to feel that burn again, as my pleasure ebbs, but I don’t want to let him go. “Mine.” His head is buried in my hair, his nose nuzzling me. I tuck my face against his neck and breathe him in. That sound is still coming from his throat, but it seems satisfied now, where it felt urgent before.
And for one more second, I exist in that possibility. In the delusion that we really could have a forever. That Meshach would let us go, after what we’ve just denied his son. That I could have a future that involves orgasms and cuddling with this huge, gentle man, rather than modesty sheaths and a man-child who uses me for things his wife won’t do.
But that’s a naive fantasy, and even if I need to let Vaughn believe it for a little while, I can’t afford to believe it myself.
“How long can we stay here?” I ask, my words muffled by the damp skin of his neck.
“Not long.” He carefully eases himself out of me, and I roll onto my back while he sits up. “I want to get you away from here. Preferably without having to cut a swath through Meshach’s men. As much fun as that would be, it would attract way too much attention.” He leans over the bed to grab his pants, but rather than put them on, he digs his earpiece from his pocket. “Why don’t you get dressed while I contact Sotelo? Quietly,” he adds.
In case Meshach is searching the Dinghy and can overhear Sotelo’s conversation.
While I pull my undergarments on, trying to ignore the new soreness between my legs, Vaughn steps into his pants and slides the device into his ear. He taps on the part I can still see, and a light blinks. “So— Pryor?” he corrects himself, speaking to Captain Sotelo over his com. “Status update?”
“Back on the ship and in the clear,” the captain says, and I’m surprised I can hear him. Vaughn’s earpiece must have a broadcast mode. “We had a few guests on board for a tour, but they’re gone now, so you can speak freely.”
“Meshach?” Vaughn guesses.
“And friends. They’ve agreed to take no action on the man you killed, since he tried to board our ship without permission. And they were ostensibly pleased to find Grace absent. But we were not. Have you found her?”
“Yes. We’re in a room at that shithole boarding house, on the C-leg of the hexagon. Second floor.”
“Do I want to know how you paid for the accommodations?”
“We didn’t.” Vaughn’s gaze flicks toward me. “We’re ready to get the hell off of Miscellany.”
“As are we all. But Meshach has men stationed all over the hexagon, watching from the boardwalk on every floor. You’re not going to be able to bring Grace aboard until eyes are no longer on us.”
“Fuck,” Vaughn breathes.
I sink onto the edge of the bed with my modesty sheath in my lap. “He’ll watch as long as he needs to,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry I got you into this. You should just leave me here.” That’s the safest thing for the entire crew. For Sotelo and Lilli and their unborn child.
“I will not leave you.” Vaughn’s hand wraps around mine and squeezes. “Okay.” He’s speaking to Sotelo again. “We need a plan. He’ll be expecting her to sneak through the bazar in her cloak, which means they’ll all be looking for that telltale shimmer. Which they’re experts at spotting, considering that half the population of Gebose wears those damn sheaths. But he won’t expect her to walk around out there in full view. Hell, most of his men don’t even know what she looks like. Right?” Vaughn turns to me.
I nod. “Only Meshach has seen my face.”
“Then we’ll disguise you. Sotelo, can you have Dreyer head out into the bazar and find her a hat and something to wear? And…an old set of VR lenses, or something to go in front of her face?”
“Won’t work,” Sotelo says. “Even if they don’t recognize her, they’ll know who she is the second she tries to board the ship. Especially if she’s with you. Meshach knows we’re waiting on you, so we can take off.”
“Shit.” Vaughn closes his eyes, clearly thinking.
“Go without me,” I repeat.
“No,” he growls. “We’re not leaving you here.”
“Fine. But it’s going to have to look like you are. Meshach won’t stop watching the Dinghy until it leaves, so it’s going to have to leave without me. Then, when the pressure dies down a bit, you can come back for me.”
“No,” Vaughn repeats. “I’m not leaving you here alone. Sotelo, you guys take off without us, then come back when you’re sure Meshach has given up.”
“But he won’t give up, if he doesn’t see you get on the ship,” I insist. “He’ll know you’re still here with me.”
Silence echoes from the device for a second. Then Sotelo sighs. “I think I have an idea.”
“YOU OKAY?” Vaughn watches as I pull on the new clothes: pants made of a thick, coarse material and a loose shirt that falls nearly to my thighs. They’re modest enough that I don’t feel like I’m on display. Which helps, now that I no longer have my sheath.
“I’m not going to get it back, am I?” I lift the helmet from the bed and turn it over, examining it. It’s a ridiculously large and outdated piece of equipment, but it’s pretty standard for here on Miscellany. The people who shop here can’t afford new, shiny tech. They haggle over decades old retrofits.
I will blend in, in this helmet.
“That nano-tech?” Vaughn frowns. “I thought you hated it.”
“I do. I hate everything about it. I hate being invisible. But I’m no good at being seen. I feel…conspicuous.” Even though I had no intention of wearing the garment again, once I was free from Meshach, it was a comfort to know I could if I needed to. “That sheath was my… Well, it was my shield.”
Vaughn takes my hand and tugs me up from the bed. “I am your shield now.” He leans down for another kiss, and the taste of him makes me want to crawl back into the bed and shimmy out of all this strange clothing. I want to get to know his body, as he now knows mine. In leisure. In private.
With my tongue.
The strength of that urge startles me, and something warm brushes my fingers. I glance down to see that my right hand rests against the firm, smooth lines of his chest. And it got there all on its own.
No.
Before I can snatch my hand back, he lays his over it, beaming down at me, clearly thrilled by the spontaneous contact. He squeezes my fingers for a second, then he lets me go and grabs the helmet from the bed.
“Still,” he says as he lowers it onto my head. “I am sorry about the sheath. Can’t be helped.”
“I know.” It’s a crucial part of our ruse. “Who did you give it to?”
“A woman about your size. I found her at the pub two doors down. I told her she could have it, if she promised to put it o
n and walk through the bazar in half an hour. And to say, if she’s asked, that a beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes gave it to her.”
“And if she doesn’t go through with it?”
“I told her I’d hunt her down and peel the flesh from her body. She wasn’t hard to convince, once she saw my knuckle spikes.”
“I can imagine.” I fold down the thin, clear panels so that they’re seated in front of my eyes, like goggles. “What are these things supposed to do?”
“Nothing, anymore. They don’t work. But they’ll help cover your face.” He steps back and takes a critical look at me.
“Well?”
“You definitely look different. Most of that is the hair.”
I scratch at the tangled blond wig, beneath the bulky helmet.
“Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’m ever going to be.”
“I won’t leave your side,” he promises.
But that’s part of the problem. “If they see you, they’ll know who the girl with you is. And the disguise won’t matter to most of Meshach’s men, because they don’t know what I look like anyway.”
“The disguise is for Meshach himself,” Vaughn says. “But with any luck, he’ll never see it.” He grabs the leather tote from the bed, and its content bulges through the material at sharp angles.
“What’s in there?”
“See for yourself.” He holds the bag out to me, and I pull out a hardbound publication.
“The holy text?” I frown down at it, but the title doesn’t fit. This doesn’t look anything like the holy text found in every home on Gebose.
“Hardly. It’s a book. I found it while I was looking for a woman to wear your sheath. I don’t think the vendor knew what he had. He was selling it as fuel.” Vaughn looks thrilled with his purchase, but I’m not sure I understand his enthusiasm.
“Can’t you read books on your com device?” That’s how people read, on Gebose.
Vaughn frowns. “That’s not the same.” He takes the book from me and slides it back into the tote, which he hangs over my shoulder. Evidently it’s part of my disguise. “I’ll explain later,” he says as he steps past me and unlocks the door. “It’s time. Let’s go.”
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