The Breaking

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The Breaking Page 2

by Imogen Keeper


  She’d been terrified. She’d hung in his arms like a ragdoll after, as he’d stroked and petted and kissed her face.

  Until he’d apologized, which had been humiliating beyond belief.

  And then nothing. He’d turned away.

  For days, she’d wondered. And he’d done nothing more than nod politely.

  Utto had. He’d done plenty. Utto had told her that he loved her and he’d die for her. He’d asked her to Bond with him. Brought her tea. He’d kissed her. Whispered promises she’d been stupid enough and blind enough to believe. And maybe a small part of her had wanted to prove to Ajax that someone wanted her, even if he didn’t. And always, that sweet, steaming, spicy tea.

  Her body had betrayed her, responding to the unknown call of Utto’s serum snaking its way through her system.

  She parted her lips to tell Ajax she was sorry, that she’d made a mistake, that she should have waited longer, that she’d been confused and manipulated, that it wasn’t her fault. It was a pathetic excuse. Her throat wouldn’t obey.

  “What do you need? Are you okay?” That voice again, and all the warm shivers that came with it.

  Behind her, the door to Utto’s chambers hissed, providing no more than a split-second warning.

  Her heart jumped into her throat.

  Utto. He’d returned early.

  Moving in the fluid, practiced motion she’d learned in her three months at Romeo-Two, she opened the drawer that held their plates and mugs.

  Smooth, deft motions drew no attention. Jerky behavior garnered suspicion.

  With her thumb, she ended the connection with Ajax on the comm and dropped it at the back of the drawer, where Utto would never find it. He hadn’t stepped in the kitchen more than once in their entire time at Romeo-Two.

  “What are you doing?” His voice sounded from the entrance, distrustful as ever. His suspicion slithered in her chest through their Bond.

  The door slid closed with a hiss.

  “I thought I’d make some eeffoc.” She pulled two mugs from the drawer and slid it closed with her hip, wiping her damp cheek calmly.

  “You drink too much of it. It’ll stain your teeth.”

  She turned to find him unstrapping the holsters that held his rezals, but he kept on the straps of knives that crisscrossed his barrel chest.

  “They can be whitened if they bother you, can’t they?”

  He made a face at that, somewhere between a scoff and a snarl, jerking his head in a sharp motion that set his dark-blue hair shimmering. She had loved that thick, shining hair at the beginning. So different from her own. She loathed it now.

  She loaded the fragrant, brown-black powder into the machine and set it percolating. Lifting one of the mugs, she moved to put it back in the drawer.

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want any,” he bit off.

  She pictured Ajax’s soft eyes.

  Utto’s tone augured conflict. Experience had taught her that although his anger could only be staved off for so long, she could frequently soften the intensity of it by forcing herself to remain gentle and sweet.

  “Sorry, my love.” The false words tasted bitter on her tongue, but the smile she offered was sweeter than the lintorippi berries they grew in The Fields.

  “My cousin, Rennie, is going to come for a while. He’ll stay in one of the guest chambers, but he’ll eat meals here. I expect you to make him feel welcome.”

  She didn’t want to ponder the meaning behind those words too deeply. “Of course. Please let me know what his favorite meals are. I can find recipes.”

  When the eeffoc was ready, she poured it into the mugs, pouring cream in his, just the way he liked it, and brought it over to him where he sat in the lounge.

  He put his mug on the table in front of him and met her eyes with a look she knew only too well.

  She smiled for him again—the big, wide-eyed, vapid grin that he loved, the one that had probably gotten her into this mess. With Ajax’s turquoise eyes in her mind, she dropped to her knees in front of the man she’d chosen.

  He spoke, but she ignored his words, conjuring up the sound of Ajax’s deep rumble across the distance of space.

  She’d find a way to call him again soon.

  2

  Just one look.

  That’s all it took.

  “Ay-shocks. I didn’t know who else to call—I need your help.”

  The line went dead. It was a waste of time, but he tried anyway. “Feola?” Nothing. “Feola.”

  He dropped his comm to the glossy black surface of his desk. He hadn’t seen her face or heard her say his name in four-and-a-half months. A single spoken word, and his heart went arrhythmic and skipped about five beats.

  Ay-shocks. Nobody else said his name like that. Like a song, a perfect melody that sucked him right back to the day he saw her open her eyes for the first time.

  He inhaled sharply against the memory of her slim body draped in the white sheets of his healing bay, the soft rise of her breasts with every breath, the delicate scent that filled the air around her. After they’d brought her aboard S-6, she’d slept for five days. She’d slept through the warming of the cryo pod in which they’d found her, slept as they bathed her body, slept as every machine at his disposal had monitored her vitals, tracked her health.

  And after five days of waiting, there had finally been a change in her sleep cycles. He waited, curious to see her eyes, hoping to reassure a lone woman as she awoke after five hundred years in cryo-freeze aboard an alien spaceship

  A soft murmur had sounded from the back of her throat, and she’d tossed her head, sending a lock of pink-orange hair across her forehead. When he’d brushed it back, she’d turned her cheek into his palm and smiled in her sleep.

  Those lids had snapped open, revealing the most arresting set of eyes he’d ever seen. Yellow as the Argenti sun in the center of the irises and emerald at the edges, with thick black lashes. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

  That’s all it had taken. She’d owned him after that one look. Body and soul.

  She’d squealed and lurched upright, clutching the sheets.

  It had taken a few minutes for her to calm down. He’d spoken softly, knowing she couldn’t understand. “Ajax,” he’d said, pointing at his chest. “My name is Ajax.”

  After a long moment, speaking in a voice as soft and fluid as flowing water, she’d said his name for the first time. “Ay-shocks.”

  It sounded a hell of lot better her way. Like a song.

  Now, sitting at his desk, he remembered another time, the day he’d gotten approval for his request for a Bonding, the same day she’d chosen to Bond with another man. He dropped his head back, clamping his jaw tight.

  Help. What the hell did she need?

  She’d chosen Utto. She’d Bonded with Utto.

  She doesn’t belong to me.

  The thought burned like acid in his throat.

  He traced his hands over the clear surface of his comm’s screen, tempted to return-contact the device. No. She’d hung up for a reason.

  She’d spoken fast, a little breathy. Fear?

  Was he fabricating? Finding excuses to think about her? For sure.

  Thick, curling hair and wide eyes. Hot, wet skin, and the sounds she’d made, breathy moans as she’d writhed on his fingers the one time he’d let himself touch her—really touch her.

  For four days, he’d lived in the blind, idiotic haze of happiness, certain that she felt the same way about him, knowing she’d accept his offer of a Bonding once he’d cleared the proper channels.

  Then she’d announced her impending Bond with Utto.

  He couldn’t stop a wry laugh from the back of his throat. This was too perfect. Today the papers had arrived requesting he accept permanent healing detail on Feola’s home planet, Triannon. And today of all days, Feola had called. Fate, the mysterious termagant, had thrown her back into the tangle of his thoughts.

  He pulled his larger digi open and entered in
the access codes for the Tribe’s medical mainframe onto the screen, narrowing in on R-2, and finally located Feola Upranimus, mate of Utto Upranimus.

  He scrolled down the screen, past her medical information, glad to see she was still in good health. So it wasn’t medical help she needed.

  She’d made three visits to the healers in R-2’s healing bay. Once to request information regarding fertility, once to set a fracture of the radius, and once to acquire contraceptives.

  Fertility drugs and contraceptives.

  That made no sense.

  Feeling like the saddest, stupidest bastard in the universe, he contacted R-2’s healers.

  “Healing Bay, Romeo-Two. Captain Rashard Wells speaking.”

  “Wells, this is Commander Ajax Willo from Sierra-Six. Requesting information on one of your female residents, mate of Utto Upranimus.”

  The other man paused. There was no set protocol for relaying private information about a woman to a strange male. “Shall I connect you with her mate, sir?”

  “Negative, Wells. I’d like to know the details of her three visits. This is a confidential request for information. From Commander of Sierra-Six Healing Bay to you. Just following up on her health after cryo.”

  Wells paused again. He could refuse the order, insist on putting the R-2 healing commander on the comm, which would cause delays and could cause trouble for Feola.

  He held his breath.

  Wells sighed. “What do you need?”

  “She’s made three visits to the healing bay. I don’t have access to the healer’s notes. Was she alone when she came in?”

  The line was silent for a moment; Wells had to be accessing the system’s data. “She was alone once. Her mate came in twice.”

  “Which time was she alone?”

  “When she asked for contraceptives.”

  He didn’t want Wells to spend too long thinking about what that meant. “Are there notes about her injury?”

  Another pause. “It just says she had her arm set after a fall. Fractured radius. There’s a note about extensive bruising of the other arm. Mate apparently injured her attempting to stop the fall.”

  A thick weight settled on his shoulders. Primal rage coiled in the small of his back. He could actually feel his blood pressure spike.

  “Is there anything else you need, sir?”

  The silence stretched. He’d stopped breathing. “No, that’s all. Thank you.”

  He disconnected and sat for a long moment, staring at his desk.

  His fate had been sealed the first time she’d said his name like a siren’s song. Ay-shocks.

  With a curse, he shook his head and tapped out a message to the admiral, accepting the new position as Chief of Healing on Triannon. The political movement would make his father happy, at any rate, since it would help him in his machinations back on Argentus.

  On the way, he’d stop at R-2, the nearest colony of mated warriors and their women, Feola’s new home. He’d make sure she was fine.

  No doubt she was fine, and he was insane, chasing ghosts, windmills, and the bright-red skirts she’d worn during the month she’d spent at S-6.

  And no doubt he’d humiliate himself and break his own heart again. Maybe she and Utto had decided to wait on procreating. Maybe she truly had fallen. Maybe she’d been calling for healing help.

  Don’t ask me to help you get pregnant with his baby.

  There were things he couldn’t bear to fix.

  She’d better have godsdamned tripped.

  As soon as he confirmed that she was okay, he’d get as far away from her as he could. Maybe he’d find a mate on Triannon who could block out the image of those gorgeous, haunting, lingering eyes, and the big, beautiful, happy, flashing smile. Ay-shocks.

  A thrill rippled through his bloodstream at the thought of seeing her one last time.

  If Utto had hurt her, he was a dead man.

  3

  A place of my own.

  One they’ll never touch.

  Feola told so many lies she lost track of them.

  Utto hadn’t found the comm, but he had found a tiny spec of dirt on her dress. The dirt came from the market, she’d said. No, the piazza. No, The Fields. No, the potted plant in the kitchen. She lied until he lost interest and gave up on the truth.

  She couldn’t leave their chambers for days. People would ask questions if they saw the bruises that stained her skin.

  When she hadn’t stopped by for more than two days, Samila came over, inquisitive and sincere, and jeopardizing Feola’s very life with her presence. Feola had whispered through a crack in the door that she had a cold.

  The future was as clear as the catch in her friend’s sweet, innocent voice. Samila would tell Jamar something was off with the Upranimus couple, and Jamar would tell his CO, and it would get back to Utto, who would be humiliated and enraged.

  Time was running short.

  So she stayed in Utto’s chambers, isolated by her impotence and fury. Pacing the grated floors, exercising on the sofa and bed, toning her arms and legs, preparing for what was to come and planning. Always planning.

  She rehearsed the plan so many times she feared she’d recite it in her dreams.

  The bruises faded to greenish yellow, just in time for Rennie’s arrival. He’d only notice them if he looked closely and the light was just right.

  Rennie was built very much like Utto. They could have been brothers. Tall and solidly muscular, with the telltale Upranimus blue hair, dark, thick, and shiny. Matching eyes, too. The cousins were handsome men. At least on the outside.

  Unlike Utto, Rennie oozed outrageous charm, with an easy smile and a mischievous set to his eyebrows, as if he were eternally on the verge of making a joke. He reminded her of who she’d thought Utto was. Maybe Utto was still like that with other people, but he only revealed the darkness of his soul to her, within the privacy of their chambers.

  The first time Rennie touched her was after breakfast. She thought it was an accident. He brought his eeffoc mug back to her at the sink, thanking her politely, and his hand lingered on the dip of her spine, his fingers splayed over the rise of her bottom. It wasn’t the touch of a cousin.

  Neither of them commented, and the moment slipped away.

  She almost convinced herself it hadn’t happened, until later that night, when he and Utto returned, ready for dinner.

  Utto opened a bottle of expensive Argenti liquor, dark green and smelling of trees and dirt. It made her stomach shudder, but they seemed to enjoy it, clinking their glasses, belting out toasts, and swallowing it down until it stained their lips and tongues green.

  Dinner passed quickly. They largely ignored her, discussing some man with a strange name, and something they called septusine. She ignored them, drowning out the words, focusing on her plan.

  Being ignored was fine. She let herself drift and pretend she was somewhere nicer.

  “She’s cute.” Rennie tilted his head in her direction. “Like a doll.” As if she weren’t even in the room.

  Utto nodded. “Cute, maybe, but don’t trust her. She’s sneaky as fuck.”

  Rennie laughed. “This little thing?” His hand came down to rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, brushing the hair off her neck. “Nah. She’s a sweet one.”

  She raised her eyes to her mate’s.

  His gaze held only shadows, but something new lurked in the creases around his eyes. Something she hadn’t seen before. “Trust me. There are a hundred lies hidden behind those eyes.”

  Wrong, Utto. There are a thousand lies hidden behind my eyes.

  Rennie’s fingers drifted along her collarbone, hitting a spot that made the skin of her spine crawl. She shrank away from his questing fingers.

  Utto’s brow quirked, and again that unnamed gleam lit his eyes. The Bond tightened, quivering and enraged.

  “Who cares if she lies? You don’t need to talk to her.” Rennie’s hands followed, seeking, pulling her back with a firm hand curled around her shou
lder. His touch remained gentle, but there was an edge to it. Rennie’s mask slipped, the charming façade melting away under the heat of six cups of Argentus’s finest. He was a monster. Just like her mate. His gaze dropped to her breasts.

  Utto smiled, sipping his drink. Not a nice smile. A nasty green-rimmed smile. “That’s true. You never need to talk to them, do you? You lucky fuck. You aren’t stuck with this one.”

  Rennie laughed, and the sound turned her stomach. She didn’t know what they were talking about. Them who? There weren’t enough women in the Argenti world for them to talk or not talk to.

  He traced his finger along one of the straps of her dress, tugging until it hung loosely, the top of her breast exposed. His fingers stroked lower.

  Utto’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Anger rippled across the Bond. He was furious, but he didn’t say a single word to stop his cousin.

  “Look at these little tits. Nice and firm.”

  She closed her eyes, focused on sucking air into her lungs. She’d thought she was long past feeling betrayed by Utto. Rennie’s alcohol breath reeked so she breathed through her mouth. He scooted closer, his fingers tugging at the other strap.

  Cold air touched her skin.

  “Ha. Look at how she tries to pull away. No, no, no, no, no. Open your eyes, little one.”

  The bastard would deny her the escape of darkness. She opened her eyes to see Utto knock back the rest of his drink and pour another.

  “Smile for me,” Rennie coaxed, sliding his hand down to paw at her breast. “I like it when they smile.”

  Utto’s jaw tightened, but he nodded at her, eyes blazing.

  She turned to Rennie and smiled at him vapidly, but she didn’t see him. Who was he talking about? Who was they? When who smiled? She focused on the riddle, so she wouldn’t have to feel what he was doing to her body.

  He tweaked her nipples to hard peaks, plumping up her breasts as if she really were nothing more than a doll. She blocked him out. Blocked them both out. It didn’t matter if he touched her body. He wasn’t touching her.

 

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