He turned, aiming to head back out to Capital City to track Hunter down, and stopped short. Hunter was standing at the top of the ramp, arms folded.
Damn.
Derrick looked over his shoulder to make sure Kyra was out of earshot. “Look, Hunter—”
The words died in his throat. What could he say? He’d committed mutiny, technically hijacked the ship, threatened to shoot Harlan. There wasn’t much he could say. He’d beg if it would get him anywhere, but Hunter wasn’t much moved by begging.
Hunter’s eyes slid past him to the rest of the crew. He surveyed them with a flat look.
Shit. Ivy had let Derrick out of his room—that meant she was now guilty of mutiny, too.
Derrick put up his hands in surrender and stepped between the crew and Hunter. “It was all me, Hunter. They had nothing to do with it. I managed to short the door circuit and get out of my room on my own.”
Hunter’s frown deepened, and he cocked his head.
“No, really. They had nothing to do with this.”
“So them just standing here, while you’re out and about, in direct violation of my orders that you be confined to quarters is neither here nor there?”
“There weren’t nothing they could do about that.”
“And the new crew position that’s suddenly posted to my ship without my knowledge or consent?”
“That was all me, too.”
Ivy stepped forward. “Hunter, I—’
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vienna put a restraining hand on Ivy’s arm to silence her.
Hunter crossed the room in two strides. His fist felt like a bar of iron as it connected with Derek’s jaw. Derek stumbled backward but kept his feet. Hunter hit like a son a bitch, but despite his strength and drive, he couldn’t make up for the extra six inches of height Derrick had over him.
Derrick rubbed his jaw ruefully. “Are you going to space me or send me to court?
“Neither.” Hunter nodded toward the assembled crew. “For some reason they decided to defend you. Even Vienna—which is saying something. All the way back, they argued that you were temporarily insane due to being in love. And that it was such a rare and remarkable thing that any woman in the universe would be crazy enough to fall in love with you, that I should forgive your temporary insanity. The only reason you’re still here, though, is because you tried to protect them from punishment. I know it was Ivy that let you out of your cabin.”
“With the security code I gave her,” Vienna said.
“Harlan defended you, too,” Ivy supplied helpfully.
Hunter grimaced. “Yeah, by yacking my ear off with stories of all the men he’s tried to get to run off with him over the years. Apparently, Harlan’s a romantic.”
Harlan grinned unabashedly.
Derrick looked at each person in turn, not really sure what to say.
“Still need to work on using your words,” Vienna said.
“Well, we’re going to be in port for a while. I have a stack of paperwork I need to do to process my new crew member. And now that we don’t have to haul all the way to New Dominica, we can stay here for a couple of weeks.” He looked at Derrick. “You are going to use that time to effect numerous strenuous, tedious, and, God-willing, horrifically dirty and smelly long-overdue repairs and reflecting on how to become a model crew member.”
Derrick wasn’t sure he was hearing right. “I can stay?”
Hunter nodded curtly. “But this is your one strike, Derrick. Ever try anything like that again, and I will toss you out the nearest airlock, of that you can be sure.”
Derrick nodded his agreement. “And Kyra? She can stay?”
“If she wants to. I ain’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth—or deal with the mutiny I’ll have if I force everyone to go back to eating protein bars and Re-Con.”
His heart somersaulted in his chest. He hadn’t really expected things to work out. The minute he’d pulled his gun on Harlan, he’d known he’d made a serious mistaken, though he couldn’t say he regretted it. There was no way he would have left Kyra behind.
Speaking of which… she’d said she was going to wait for him in his room… on his bed… naked.
His mind smoothly and easily shifted gears; there was only thing he wanted to do now. He turned and headed for his quarters, nearly breaking into a run.
Kyra leaned against the wall, waiting for Derrick. The door was locked so she didn’t have much choice but to wait in the hall.
She wondered what was happening—the conversation with Hunter was taking a long time. She wasn’t really sure of the full details of what happened, but she’d gathered from the broad statements he’d made that Derrick was in serious trouble.
She glanced down at the slim silver band on her finger. Apparently, she’d also agreed to marry him, though the entire exchange in the cargo bay had been a bit of a blur. She’d been confused by his sudden appearance on Main Street, then he’d yelled at her and dragged her on board the Mercy. At first, she’d thought she had done something wrong—that she’d damaged the ship somehow, though she hadn’t had any catastrophes that day that she knew of. When she’d finally understood he was asking her to marry him, she’d been too dumbfounded and overcome with emotion to do much more than nod—and cry.
She frowned as she twisted the band back and forth; she hadn’t really thought this through. She loved him, that was true—his strength, his direct manner, his prickly exterior, his unexpected gentleness, his dry humor. But were they a match? And where would they live? He’d said something about getting her a position on the Mercy. She liked the crew, and it wouldn’t be a bad life. But was it what she wanted? What about her dreams of living in a place like New Dominica where there were never food shortages, where people had leisure time and every possible luxury and amenity—roads and restaurants and theaters and beaches and buildings made of wood and marble and other exotic materials. Tubs you could fill with water and soak in. Beds large enough for four or five people to sleep in but that only one or two people slept in. Soft mattresses and plump pillows. Fresh produce year-round, any day you wanted it.
Footsteps rang in the corridor, and she looked up. Derrick was striding toward her, the dark, lust-filled look in his eyes unmistakable. Her insides turned to pudding and desire flashed through her like wildfire.
The answer was yes. Yes, this is what she wanted. No amount of fancy beds or fancy buildings could ever replace how she felt when he looked at her like that. And like Rigger said—out here, she was one in a million. On the Mercy, she’d finally found people who appreciated what she had to offer. In fact, more than that, she’d found people that her skills could help. With her cooking, she could help the crew of the Mercy attract more private, higher-paying fares. Her addition to the crew might just end up being more than useful—it might be valuable. For once, she might be able to take care of the people around her, instead of them taking care of her. Or, more importantly, they could all take care of each other.
Derrick stopped in front of her and stared down at her. His eyes bore into her, and she thought he was going to say something. But then he seemed to change his mind. He tangled a hand in her hair, cupped the back of her head, and dragged her forward, his mouth coming down hard on hers. Instantly, she was on fire everywhere.
His hands found their way to her backside and he lifted her, bringing her legs around him, as he stepped closer to the wall. She came willingly, her mouth as hard and demanding as his. She’d never much liked kissing before, but then, no man had ever kissed her like he’d die if he didn’t have her.
He balanced her against the wall while one of his hands fumbled with the fastening of his pants. He tightened his grip on her, crushing her to his broad chest, molding her lower curves to his hardness. He managed to drop his pants and get hers off, too, and then he was inside her, thrusting hard, all the cool detachment he’d shown previously completely gone.
Her hunger matched his own, and she matched him stroke for stroke, kis
s for kiss. Her mouth was just as harsh and demanding as his own, her grip on him just as tight as his on her as she dug her fingers into the corded muscles of his broad shoulders. Everywhere he touched her burned with fire and heat. They came together, hard and fast, and he smothered her cries of ecstasy with his mouth, his tongue plundering it with the same fierceness with which his lower half plundered her depths.
She went limp against him, her chest heaving breathlessly. He stilled and softened his grip on her, letting her rest her damp forehead against his chest. When her breathing slowed, he pulled away from her with obvious reluctance.
Gently, he lowered her to her feet and stepped back to collect his pants. She grabbed her own, casting him a half sly, half shy grin from under her lashes.
“Maybe I should run off more often if this is the result.”
Derrick grunted. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Kyra grinned the sly grin that seemed to have such an obvious and immediate effect on him, enjoying this newfound power, and was instantly rewarded with the sight of his eyes glazing over with desire. She patted his chest with a smug smile as she stepped around him. “Time I got started on dinner. I’ve got a recipe that I’d like to try.”
He perked up. “And lemon cookies?”
“Lemon cookies!” she hooted. “It’s gonna take more than a one-shot quickie against the bulkhead to deserve cookies.”
He grabbed her hand, pulling her back around to him, and then gently tugged her forward, toward his room. “Just what did you have in mind?”
Her smiled widened. “What about dinner?”
“They can eat protein bars,” Derrick said, grazing her neck with his lips, “for the next few days.”
“Days!” Kyra gasped, caught between a burble of laughter and a moan as his mouth wandered lower.
Derrick lifted his head and stared down at her, his eyes dark with desire. “Days,” he said firmly. He stepped back, pulling her into the room with him. The door slid shut behind her. It was going to be quite a while until the Mercy was ready to leave port.
Kyra smiled at the thought.
About the Author
Terri Bruce is the author of the paranormal/contemporary fantasy “Afterlife” series, which includes Hereafter (Afterlife #1) and Thereafter (Afterlife #2), and numerous short stories in various anthologies. She has been making up adventure stories for as long as she can remember. Like Anne Shirley, she prefers to make people cry rather than laugh, but is happy if she can do either. She produces strange, hard-to-classify fantasy and science fiction stories from beautiful Downeast ME, where she lives with her husband and various cats.
Keep up to date with all the latest news and sign up to be notified of new releases in the Afterlife Series at:
Sign Up For My Newsletter (official news, sales/discounts, and random behind the scenes tidbits):
http://eepurl.com/dn87u9
Website/Blog follow via RSS, BlogLovin’, or Google+ for official news):
http://www.terribruce.net
Facebook Fan Page (flash contests, random announcements, memes):
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Terri-Bruce-Fan-Page/325830544139030
Twitter (chit chat and randomness):
http://www.twitter.com/@_TerriBruce
Facebook Fan Group (Terri’s Afterlife Angels) (spoilerFUL zone of behind-the-scenes info and general tomfoolery):
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1533621670089426/
Also by Terri Bruce
The Afterlife Series
Hereafter (Afterlife #1)
Thereafter (Afterlife #2)
Whereafter (Afterlife #3)
Irene and the Witch (Afterlife #3.5)
Whenafter (Afterlife #4) (May 2018)
Neverafter (Afterlife #5) (forthcoming)
Ever After (Afterlife #6) (forthcoming)
Short Stories
The Tower
The Wishing Well
Welcome to OASIS
Death and the Horse
My Lover Like Night
The Lady and the Unicorn
About Hereafter (Afterlife #1)
The Afterlife Series by Terri Bruce
Why let a little thing like dying get in the way of a good time?
Thirty-six-year-old Irene Dunphy didn't plan on dying any time soon, but that’s exactly what happens when she makes one little mistake after a night bar-hopping with friends. She finds herself stranded on earth as a ghost, where the food has no taste, the alcohol doesn’t get you drunk, and the sex... well, let’s just say “don’t bother.” To make matters worse, the only person who can see her— courtesy of a book he found in his school library— is a fourteen-year-old boy genius obsessed with the afterlife.
Unfortunately, what waits in the Great Beyond isn’t much better. Stuck between the boring life of a ghost in this world and the terrifying prospect of three-headed hell hounds, final judgment, and eternal torment in the next, Irene sets out to find a third option— preferably one that involves not being dead anymore.
"5 out of 5 stars...What a book. Wow! To sum it up - witty, sarcastic, funny, smart, and a good book to curl up and read until you're too sleepy to see the words." ~Reader Book Review
"So many paranormal's have been done over and over. The same 'ol thing. Hereafter is a rejuvenation of the genre. Something different! Finally!" ~Mary, The Sweet Bookshelf
“5 out of 5...This book is so good that I can't wait to make time to reread it. I highly recommend it. Not what I expected, in fact much much more. Do yourself a favour and go out and get it-now.” ~Mallory, Mallory Heart Reviews
Available Now Wherever Books Are Sold in Paperback, E-Book, and Audiobook!
Safe with You
Sharon Coady
About the Story
Easton Ruden spent his life with a hateful stepfather and brothers after his mom died. When an uncle he didn’t know, dies and wills him a mansion on the other side of the country, he jumps at the chance to leave. Tegan Moreau spent her entire life helping protect the secret of the mansion. When Easton arrives, she knows he is her soul mate, and she must convince him to help her.
When a witch and an unsuspecting young man are thrown together, can she convince him magic is real?
Chapter One
Easton sat staring out the dingy window of Carson, Sanders, and Kemp’s Law office as his late uncle’s will was read. Damn, where am I going to come up with next month’s rent? His new job as a bartender at the local pub was not working out. He wasn’t getting the tips his friend had promised he would draw in. It seemed like the college girls and middle-aged women were only attracted to blonde-haired, blue-eyed, pretty boys.
Hell, he didn’t think he was bad looking. He worked out and at six-feet-three inches with black hair and smoky gray eyes, he thought he had something to offer. He wasn’t a young man anymore but twenty-six wasn’t old.
“Easton, did you hear what I just said?” Sanders’ whiny voice cut through his thoughts. “I just told you about your uncle’s wishes and you’ve yet to respond. Am I boring you?” His mouth was set in a thin line as his stick thin fingers drummed on top of his beat-up, mahogany desk.
“Sorry, you’ve been going on for over an hour. I didn’t realize we had gotten to the part where you were speaking to me.” He knew his father and brothers were glaring at him, he could feel it, but he refused to glance at them and give them the satisfaction of knowing he had been caught spacing out.
Sanders shook his head, looking completely put out.
“Could you give it to me again?” Asshole. He sat back enjoying the sour look on the prissy lawyer’s face.
“As I just said, your uncle has left you his mansion outside of Baltimore, Maryland. He has further left you all the contents of the mansion and a very large bank account, with the stipulation that you must live in the mansion and be the caretaker of all the contents within.”
He blinked as he felt his jaw drop. He shook his head. “What?”
“Oh damn it
to hell, Easton, can’t you pay attention to anything?” his father bellowed. “Why the hell he left anything to you at all is beyond me. I’m going to contest the will.”
Sanders lay the will down and glared, poking the document with his forefinger. “It stipulates right here, if anyone contests the will, they will lose what Lawrence left them. Do you really want to contest this, Thomas? He left you a substantial inheritance.”
Thomas Ruden slammed his beefy fist down on the lawyer’s desk. “This is just like Lawrence to screw me over. What the hell did this snot nose bastard ever do to deserve what he got?”
Easton chuckled as his father went on another rant, which was no surprise to him. Ever since the man had found out Easton was the product of his mother’s one time affair with a younger man, his father had been a beast to him.
“What if I don’t want what he left me?” Easton asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“It’s all right here in the will.” Sanders rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. “If anyone turns down what Lawrence willed them, everyone in the will loses their inheritance.”
“Well, isn’t this shit just getting deeper and deeper? Take the damn mansion, Easton. At least it will get you out of my sight.”
“You’re a real piece of work, Thomas.” He shoved his chair back, stood, and pointed at the keys lying beside Sanders’ hand. “I suppose those are my keys? Do you have the address to my new accommodations?”
Moonlight Mist: A Limited Edition Collection of Fantasy & Paranormal) Page 95