Sunsinger (Cy'ren Rising Book 3)

by Robyn Bachar

  “That could help. I’ll speak to the pilots,” Captain Hawke said.

  “I think I can help as well, Captain,” Malcolm said. “I have a few tricks in mind for interfering with the orbiting ships, but I’ll need to make some adjustments to the uplink terminal on the Talon II.”

  She nodded. “Come with me, then. We’ll get you started.” Captain Hawke rose and then bowed politely to Lord Degalen. “I believe the rest of you have a wedding to prepare for.”

  ∆∆∆

  Under normal circumstances, the joining of the lord of a ruling house to the daughter of another ruling house would be an event witnessed by the entire planet, broadcast to every corner of Cyprena. There would be feasting and revelry for days, with no expense spared by either house. But with Lord Bildanen’s threat hanging over the Morningstar enclave, and with the recent losses of Lord Najamek and Wylarric fresh in the people’s minds, there was no spectacle for Galen and Andee’s mating ceremony. Andee didn’t miss the pomp and drama, and she suspected that Galen didn’t either.

  The ritual was short, kept to the bare bones of exchanging vows and inking their mate marks, and the event was over before Andee had time to be nervous about it. Only the itching burn of the new mate marks on her throat proved that the events were real and not a whirlwind dream. Their immediate families attended the ceremony, and a rich but quiet meal followed after. She barely noticed what food was served, though she noted that Galen seemed to be imbibing a good deal of wine. Likely steeling himself for the night to come; Galen’s tension buzzed against her mind like the brush of anxious wings.

  Andee had never met another lord like Galen, and that had endeared him to her over the six months of their courtship. Most lords were proud to the point of arrogance, like her father had been, or cruel from too much power, like Wylarric. They ordered, never asked, but Galen treated those around him with dignified respect. He said please and thank you to servants that most lords would never even notice, much less take the time to be polite to. She expected that he would make a good mate, though she hadn’t anticipated being the one mated to him.

  After dinner they retired to Galen’s quarters, and then to his bedroom, where they eyed each other shyly. Andee had always enjoyed sex—she wanted to consider this as no different from the delightful nights she had spent in the shadow sword barracks, but Galen’s anxiety continued to roll off him in sour, stifling waves.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked. Andee touched his arm, and he flinched as though struck.

  “No, no. Of course not. It’s nothing.” Galen shook his head, cleared his throat and then reached for the ties of her gown. He froze mid-gesture, as though uncertain what to do, and she gently took his hands and brushed a kiss across his knuckles.

  “You cannot lie to an aleithir, my lord,” she teased with a gentle smile. “I feel your distress. Please, be honest with me. You can tell me anything. Your secrets are mine to keep now, as mine are yours.”

  Galen took a deep breath, unable to meet her gaze. “I’ve never done this before,” he admitted, his voice little more than a whisper.

  Ah. That explained it—he feared disappointing her. A male who prided himself on his intelligence must hate being ignorant of any subject. It was odd for a lord to be a virgin at his age, because he could indulge in the pleasurable company of any female he wanted. Did he not desire women?

  “May I ask why haven’t you taken a lover before?”

  “Many reasons.” Galen took a deep breath and straightened. “There were females I could have bedded. Most saw only my rank and wealth, and I didn’t want that. I wanted it to mean something.”

  “I understand.” Andee embraced him, resting her head against his chest. “I have been with males before, but it only meant a passing pleasure to them.”

  “You have?” he repeated. His pale brows rose, and she smiled at his surprise.

  “Yes. I spent a great deal of time in the shadow sword barracks, and I was often the only female about. Shadow swords fight hard and fuck hard.”

  “Oh. I see.” Galen blinked, wide eyed at her blunt words. “I’m afraid I must be a disappointment to you then. I’ve never done either.”

  “I wouldn’t have agreed to this arrangement if I didn’t find you attractive. I’m ready to mean something to my lover.”

  In fact, his affection for her had persuaded Andee to agree to the match. With her father gone, Andee was left with few options. She didn’t want to confess being a liathlinn to Jace, which meant her brother would one day offer her as a mate to another lord. It was better to be mated to Galen, who cared for her, than to be given to someone who didn’t. Wylarric had cared nothing for his two mates and had often treated them cruelly.

  Stepping back, Andee unlaced the ties of her gown, what few there were. The scant garment left little to the imagination, meant to display the assets of the lord’s new mate. The thin cloth fluttered to the floor, and she stood before him wearing only her jewelry and an encouraging smile.

  “Now, keep in mind that like any subject, lovemaking requires effort and study to master, and every lover is different,” she informed him. “It will take time for us to learn how to properly pleasure each other. I’m willing to do the research, if you are.”

  Galen nodded mutely, but his energy shifted from anxious to intrigued now that he’d been presented with a topic of study. Andee kissed him, a chaste brush of the lips until he relaxed, and then she teased his lips open with her tongue. He tasted of the rich, sweet wine they had shared at dinner, and she sighed in encouragement as he hesitantly stroked her unbound hair. His slender hands traced down her back to rest at her hips, drawing her closer as she pressed against him.

  “You’ve never been bitten, then?” she asked.

  “I haven’t.” Galen’s eyes widened—he had red eyes the shade of crimson, deep and rich like fresh-spilled blood. Andee licked her lips with a hungry, sultry smile.

  “Will you give me your throat, my lord?” she asked.

  His breath hitched and he tensed, but then he slowly turned his head and bared his throat to her. Andee’s heart swelled—there was no surer sign of trust among Cy’ren than showing your throat to another. She kissed the sensitive lavender skin beneath his ear. Galen was pale for a male, who tended toward darker skin tones, and he was slender, almost fragile. Very different from the well-muscled physiques of the warriors she had bedded. Was this another reason why he had never taken a lover? Did he worry that he wasn’t attractive? Andee considered his unique build an enticing change.

  Andee bit him and purred at the warm, intoxicating taste of her mate’s blood. Shared blood was a powerful aphrodisiac for Cy’ren, and Galen’s aura instantly changed. Hot tongues of his desire licked at her skin, singeing her with need as she drank him down. Andee licked the wound closed, and her fingers tangled in his hair as she claimed his mouth with urgent kisses. He growled low as their tongues stroked and tasted, the blood sparking him to even stronger desire. The hard length of his erection pressed against her belly through his robes, and Galen nudged her toward the bed.

  Andee knelt on the edge of the mattress, watching as he hurriedly shed his clothes. She ran her hands over his pale, perfect chest, and then tugged him down beside her. He moved to pin her to the bed, but she twisted away and slipped to the floor to kneel between his legs. Galen frowned, but then gasped as she stroked his shaft and took him into her mouth. Galen’s back arched and his hands clenched the covers as Andee introduced him to the many wicked ways she could please him with her tongue.

  Galen moaned, abandoning himself to the erotic sensations, but then his energy twisted. A wave of shame washed through him, erasing his desire, and Andee stopped, confused.

  Galen nudged her away. “I can’t.”

  “That’s all right. We can save that for another time.” She rose to join him on the bed, but Galen shook his head and waved her away.

  “No. I can’t, I…” Shoulders hunched, he held his face in his hands. “I want to.
Dear gods, I do.”

  A virgin’s nerves? Beneath the veil of despair she sensed his attraction to her, as obvious as his erection had been. Anxiety shouldn’t cause the shame she sensed.

  “We can try again,” she said.

  “No. Not tonight.” Galen looked up at her with anguish in his crimson eyes. “I can’t, and I can’t explain why.”

  “Galen, I can’t give you an heir if we don’t…” She trailed off, and he winced.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I am at fault here.”

  At fault? It seemed an odd choice of words. What fault could there be in her mate that he felt such consuming shame? Andee didn’t want to make Galen more uncomfortable now by investigating further, but she suspected it was connected to Malcolm’s stolen kiss.

  “You’re not ready,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with that. As I said, it takes time to perfect lovemaking, and we have the rest of our lives to study each other. Let’s get some rest, and try again another night.”

  “I’m sorry, Andelynn. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “Well, while I do look forward to our time together, I don’t want to pressure you.” She slid into the bed and patted the spot beside her. “Sleep now, my lord.”

  Galen’s emotions roiled as he joined her, and Andee drew the covers over them. She would ponder the matter—Andee had spent years unearthing the true desires of those around her. He wanted her, but if he was attracted to Malcolm as well it would explain his reaction. Males often enjoyed each other’s company in the safety of the shadow sword barracks, but a lord couldn’t experience that freedom.

  There must be a way to set her new mate’s mind at ease. She would simply have to find it.

  ∆∆∆

  Galen waited until Andelynn’s breathing was slow and even before slipping out of the bed. His face burned as though his skin was on fire as he snatched up his robe, dragged the garment over his head and belted it tight. If he were home in the Sunsinger manor he would retreat to the safety of the archives and bury his anxiety beneath a pile of research. But he had nowhere to hide here, and when he emerged into the sitting room of his suite he yelped at the sight of Kylie, his assistant, inventorying his luggage before it was sent to the Talon II.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked without preamble. For years Kylie was the closest thing to family that Galen had—the one person who had been a constant in his life since he was a child. As such, no one knew him better, and Kylie could hone in on a lie like a sniper zeroing in on a target.

  “I…” Galen trailed off, unsure of what to say.

  Kylie frowned. “Did that Morningstar hussy hurt you?”

  “No! Of course not.” Galen sighed in frustration. “And you can’t refer to her like that. Andelynn is my mate now.”

  “Is she? You weren’t in there long enough to consummate your relationship.” The corners of her mouth twitched as though she expected him to laugh at the joke, and when he didn’t she sobered. “Oh, Galen.”

  She set her data pad down and sat on the couch, patting the spot beside her. Galen crossed and sat next to her, his posture stiff as he folded his hands in his lap. He felt as though he was about to be scolded like a child, and in a way he was.

  “We discussed this.” Kylie’s tone was soft yet stern.

  “I know.”

  “Your reputation has already been damaged by your hesitation in taking a mate.”

  Galen rubbed his face wearily as a headache formed behind his eyes. “I am well aware of that.”

  “We can’t afford another incident.”

  He winced. Incident. It seemed a severe word for a mistake made years ago by two young males. Jhen had been Galen’s closest childhood friend—only friend, if he was being honest. They were inseparable, until the day Jhen’s mother had caught them experimenting with a fumbling kiss in a private study room in the archive. Galen never saw Jhen again. Kylie had lectured him for weeks afterward about the cost of impropriety and the behavior expected of a Cy’ren lord. Galen’s position as Sunsinger lord was precarious enough without adding the scandal of an affair with a male. If the temples found out about his unnatural desires they could petition to have him removed and replaced. The temples might not wield power as they once did, but Galen didn’t want to test the extent of their influence.

  He cleared his throat. “Things are different now,” he argued. “I’m not the last living member of my family anymore. Talena could have sons. They could inherit.”

  “And who would rule the house until they are grown?” Kylie countered. “Talena can’t, and her mate is a former slave with no noble blood. Nightfall blood. The future of our house is your responsibility.”

  Of course it was. It had been his responsibility since the moment his family had been massacred. Galen would never be free of the constant, oppressive weight of lordship.

  “I will do my duty,” he promised. “This was simply a misstep.”

  Kylie reached over and squeezed his hands with one of hers. Arthritis had gnarled her fingers, and dark age spots freckled her azure skin. “I have faith in you. I know you’ll do the right thing.” She stood and peered down her narrow nose at him. “But keep in mind that we can’t afford to buy the Morningstars’ silence, and they can’t be relocated to another city.”

  Galen nodded and swallowed hard. “I understand.”

  She patted his shoulder amiably and then waited with an expectant expression until Galen rose and returned to his bedroom.

  Andelynn slept. Her black hair spilled in a silken fan across the pillow, and the thin covers did little to cover her enticing curves. He wanted her, but the weight of his shame crushed that desire.

  Your secrets are mine to keep, Andelynn had assured him. Galen wanted to believe that because he longed for someone to confide in, but she was the daughter of a ruling house. She wouldn’t understand.

  Galen would do his duty. No matter how much he was drawn to Malcolm, he wouldn’t repeat the mistake he’d made with Jhen.

  Chapter Four

  “Your heart rate is spiking,” Galen warned from his console.

  “Can’t be helped,” Malcolm replied. “If I start having a seizure, then you can worry.”

  “Is that likely?” Galen asked. Though he couldn’t see it, Malcolm heard the frown in the Cy’ren’s voice. Like most newbie handlers, Galen fretted over every spike and irregularity in Malcolm’s vitals and wrongly assumed that the answer was to decrease his network access. Over time he’d learn Malcolm’s tolerance, provided the Syndicate ships didn’t grease them the moment they broke atmo.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Malcolm muttered. Hopefully it wouldn’t be his last. Malcolm lived on borrowed time.

  Shoving the thought away, Malcolm relaxed into the data stream—he was home here, even though the ship’s network was a strange, alien song. Every data miner experienced the stream differently. Data was music to Malcolm, and that was one of the reasons he enjoyed working out of the club on the jump station. He missed the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of the bass dance beats thrumming through his chair as he worked. The Talon II was too quiet, and the silence made him uneasy. Even the too-firm cushioning of the chair seemed to conspire against him as Malcolm worked.

  He didn’t understand the science behind the machinery that made the Talon II work, but the computer did. When everything was optimal the data was in harmony, and that allowed him to work with the ship’s systems. Over time, he would learn the ship’s music, but for now he listened for notes of discord to alert him that something was wrong. This was the first time he’d tried integrating with a ship like this, and it was oddly confining compared to the Collective’s vast network. He hoped that he would be able to stretch out and access the systems on the ships in orbit, but they needed to get out of the Morningstar city before he could attempt that.

  Leaving the city was a painstaking process. More than a dozen security doors had been sealed in the tunnel that connected the city to the planet’s surface, and the Ta
lon II went through the doors one by one, like a series of airlocks in a med center, one door sealing behind them before the next would open. Once the ship made it past the last door, they would have to make a run for it past the Syndicate blockade in orbit.

  “Second door sealed,” Lieutenant Loren announced over the comm. The uplink had been built in Captain Hawke’s ready room, just off the bridge and slightly too far away to overhear the crew’s conversation without the aid of the ship’s comm. “Final door cycling open. Thirty seconds.”

  “Are you ready, Malcolm?” Captain Hawke asked.

  “Yes ma’am. I am fully integrated with the ship’s systems,” he replied. “All systems are optimal.”

  “Good. Be careful. We need you alive to find the cure.”

  Malcolm snorted. As if he could forget. The search for the Lazarus virus had nearly gotten him killed more than once—it had gotten Alexi killed, and most of the people aboard Jump Station 3.

  “Outer door open,” Loren announced.

  The ship’s thrusters kicked into full power and the Talon II shot through the portal, spurring the ship’s song from a steady adagio to an allegro. The Talon II turned and accelerated into the nearby ruins for cover as their sensors scanned the ships in orbit. Twenty large ships, and three squadrons of one-man fighters.

  Holy shit.

  “Malcolm,” Galen said, his voice calm but stern.

  “Right, right. Infiltrating Syndicate communications network.” Malcolm pinged the orbiting ships, searching for ways past their security. They identified as mercenary ships, each with variations on Syndicate programming. Piece of cake. Malcolm had been cracking Syndicate codes since he was ten years old, even before he’d become a data miner with an uplink jack planted at the base of his skull.