Sovran's Pawn (The Black Wing Chronicles Book 1)

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Sovran's Pawn (The Black Wing Chronicles Book 1) Page 16

by JC Cassels


  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I just want you to understand that you have options. You don’t have to sleep with any man who waves a stack of credits at you.”

  “What your brother and I do is between us,” she said tightly. “Why I do it is my own concern.”

  An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, but he still did not release her hand.

  “He’s my brother and I love him, but he’s a sociopath,” he finally admitted. “He hasn’t been right since he was sixteen. Don’t think he’ll value you because he won you. Women are disposable to him. He’s got looks and charm and money. He’s a player. That’s all he is and all he’ll ever be.”

  Bo let his warning sink in. She didn’t doubt he knew his brother better than she, but she knew Royce. Her uncle would never have suggested leaving her in the care of a man she couldn’t trust. Holding tightly to that faith in his judgment, she smiled.

  “Chase, I’m a Joy Babe,” she said. “It doesn’t matter to me whether your brother is a player or not. If he is, it’s all the better for me. It means he’s not going to get attached to me.”

  “You’re a beautiful, charming woman, Marissa. I want to understand why someone so wonderful would actually want a life like this. What kind of future can you expect from it? What will happen to you now if your injuries are permanent? My brother won’t help you.”

  Touched by his concern, Bo smiled and rested her hand against his cheek. “I’m not a Skyhopper. I won’t be alone and destitute,” she assured him. “The D’or Choh makes provisions for those who choose to retire and those who are forced to retire. If this is permanent, I’ll have a home on Altair, and a job in the D’or Choh as an instructor.”

  “Really?” Chase sounded surprised and dubious. “Just like that?”

  She nodded. “Just like that.” She smiled up at him.

  Sure. Life for a Joy Babe was assured. Life for a blind Barron – that was something else entirely. She pushed that thought out of her mind.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and lowered his head. Bo sensed his hesitation and uncertainty. “What about if you choose to do something else?” he asked self-consciously. “What if you – met someone?”

  “My life is my own,” she assured him.

  Before she could register his intent, his mouth covered hers and his arms went around her, pulling her against him. Bo struggled to draw a breath. Reacting without conscious thought, she struck out at him, forcing him to break contact and back away.

  “What the hell?” Chase said. “Ow! That hurt!”

  Bo gasped for breath then began coughing. Each spasm rattled her chest, sending a new wave of pain through her. She coughed harder, tasting blood in her throat.

  “Marissa? Are you alright?” Chase’s hand closed over her arm, steadying her.

  “Sorry it took so long. I had to get your contract,” Darien said, entering the stateroom. The door slid shut behind him. “What’s going on?”

  “She’s coughing,” Chase replied. “I don’t think she can breathe.”

  Darien pulled her from his brother’s grasp and eased her back into the chair. He stepped away from her.

  “Get out of the way,” he told Chase.

  Bo’s head reeled as it grew more difficult for her to breathe. She sensed Darien’s presence beside her once more, just before the respirator mask covered her nose and mouth. He murmured words of encouragement in her ear.

  “Shhh... Just breathe slowly… Shallow little breaths… That’s it… There you go…”

  Her coughing eased and soon she was breathing more normally.

  “Better?”

  She lifted her face to the direction of his voice and nodded.

  “What happened?” Darien asked.

  “Well…” Chase sounded nervous. “We were talking and she seemed fine.”

  “Just talking?”

  “Well, yeah.” Chase said. “Until I kissed her.”

  “Kissed her?” Darien exploded.

  “Yes, but just once,” Chase said quickly. “And then she hit me and started coughing.”

  “I told you to leave her alone,” Darien growled.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Chase said. “Don’t you see she’s a person, not a thing you can buy and sell?”

  “Chase…”

  “If you want to turn a profit so badly then sell her contract to me.”

  “It’s not about the credits…”

  “Then what is it about?” Chase demanded. “Tell me, Dev. What the hell is it about if not the credits?”

  Dev?

  The silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Bo canted her head, listening intently, trying to figure her next course of action.

  “Hell!” Chase said. “I should have known.” He paced the small room. “That’s worse, little brother.”

  “Chase…”

  “No, I could believe you’d treat her like a commodity to be bought and sold, but this is cold, even for you.”

  “Chase, it’s not…”

  “She’s an asset,” Chase accused. “You’re using an injured girl as a damn asset?”

  “I am not using her as an asset.”

  “No? Then why the hell would you go to all this trouble to get a Joy Babe’s contract?”

  “Because I’m crazy about her, that’s why!”

  “You…? Crazy about her?”

  “Is it so hard to believe?”

  “If it were anyone else, no,” Chase said, “but you? You don’t care about anyone but yourself. The only reason you want her is because I do!”

  “That’s not true and you know it.”

  “I knew we were going to have problems over her! I knew it!”

  “You are such a hypocrite, Chase…”

  “Hypocrite? What…”

  “You’re so sanctimonious about me treating her like a commodity – just listen to yourself! You’re carrying on like your wants are the only ones that matter! What about Marissa? Don’t you think she deserves a say in this? Have you considered what she may want? Hell, she may not want either of us!”

  “Yeah, easy for you to say. You’ve got her contract. What’s she going to do? Tell you she wants me?”

  “Ask her, Chase. Ask Marissa what her preferences are before you get your back up. She’s a sentient being with a mind of her own. If she would rather be under contract to you, I’ll sign her over to you with my compliments.”

  “You would do that?”

  “I don’t want any woman who doesn’t want me, I don’t care who she is.”

  Bo felt their eyes on her.

  “She said it was fine with her if you were a player,” Chase said. “It meant you wouldn’t get attached.”

  “Where did she get the idea I was a player?”

  Chase didn’t respond.

  After a long moment Darien spoke again. “Marissa, it’s your call,” he said. “You’ve made a conquest of my brother. I give you the choice of him, me, or neither of us. No matter which you choose, I’ll consider your contract fulfilled. There won’t be any negative repercussions on my part.”

  A hand closed over hers. She recognized it immediately as Darien’s.

  “You know that fun you were telling me you never had?”

  Bo nodded.

  “Whatever you choose, I’ll keep my promise,” he said softly, “but I want you to pick the one that you really want… the one that will be the most fun. You may not get another chance like this for a long time, if ever. Don’t waste it.”

  She understood what he was telling her, and the gift he was offering: freedom to make one consequence-free decision purely for the fun of it. He would keep her safe, regardless. If she hadn’t already been half in love with him, that simple promise would put her there. Bo removed the breather mask and smiled as she climbed to her feet with his help. She squeezed his hand.

  “Oh, flyboy…” She shook her head. “I’ve already made m
y choice. I don’t want to change my mind. I want you.”

  Running her hands along his arms, she closed the space between them and pressed herself against him. Resting her head against his chest, she slid her arms around his waist and held tightly to him. His arms went around her, gathering her close.

  Chase cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You mean… you two? You like her?”

  “I appreciate you keeping an eye on her for me, Chase,” Darien said softly. “But the next time I tell you to keep your hands to yourself, keep your hands to yourself.”

  “S-sorry, Dev,” Chase said, sounding like a little boy who had been duly chastened. “I-um… I didn’t realize. You’ve never had much use for…” He cleared his throat again and laughed nervously. “Well, I’ll just see myself out. I’m sure you two don’t need me around.”

  “Chase… thank you for helping me look after her.”

  “No problem, little brother.” He laughed but there was little humor in it. “I’m just happy to see you acting like a normal person again. It’s been too long. If Marissa is responsible for that, then I’m glad she picked you.”

  Chase’s footsteps departed, the door slid shut behind him. Bo sagged against Darien’s chest with a sigh. His arms tightened around her, holding her up on her unsteady legs.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  “For what?”

  He dipped and scooped her up. He turned, setting her head spinning and then he sat down in the chair she’d vacated, settling her on his lap. Bo settled into a more comfortable position, with her arms around his shoulders and her forehead resting against the side of his neck.

  “For… ah, hell, does it matter? Just… thank you.”

  Bo smiled and heaved a deep, contented sigh. “No,” she said. “It doesn’t matter. You’re welcome.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Hold still,” Blade said. “I don’t want to cut your hair.”

  Bo sat unmoving while he eased the safety cutters between her skin at her temple and the bandages. The cutter easily sliced through the layers of wrapping.

  “Have you cut my hair before?” She reached up to check.

  “Hold still, woman!” He growled at her as her fidgeting brought the cutters dangerously close to her eye. “This was a lot easier to do when you were unconscious.”

  “I’m sure a lot of things were easier to do to me while I was unconscious.” She grinned wickedly at him.

  “I wouldn’t know.” Though his tone was stern, his lips twitched in amusement. “You’re feeling pretty sassy for a blind woman.”

  “Not blind for much longer, flyboy.”

  “I can’t make any guarantees, Bo. I repaired what I could, but I can’t promise you the same visual acuity you had before. Even so, that’s going to take time to come back. Don’t expect anything to be clear for a while.”

  “Yeah, yeah… take the bandages off.”

  He carefully unwrapped the outer bandages and dropped them into a container. “Computer reduce illumination by seventy percent.” He glanced up as the lights dimmed significantly in the stateroom. “Now, the lights are low in here, but it’s still going to hurt your eyes. Expect them to sting and tear up. It’s normal. If you want to put your hand up to shield your eyes – just until your pupils can adapt to the light.”

  Obediently, she lifted her hand. He slowly, carefully removed the pads from her eyes.

  “How is that?” He shifted from side to side for a better look. “Do your eyes feel like they’re glued shut?”

  “They feel a little crusty.”

  He squeezed the excess warm water from a soft cloth he’d brought in. With his index finger, he tilted her face up to his and gently wiped the matter from her still-closed eyes, careful not to aggravate the angry red skin around them. If she didn’t have permanent scarring it would be nothing short of a miracle.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  She shook her head. “No, it feels good. It’s soothing.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I think that got it.”

  “Can you open your eyes for me?”

  He tried not to hold his breath as her eyelids fluttered open. She winced against the light and her eyes filled with tears.

  “You weren’t kidding,” she said, lowering her head. Tears flowed down her face. “Shit… that hurts!”

  “Don’t rush it.”

  “Stings doesn’t begin to cover it.”

  He chuckled. “I warned you.” He pressed the cloth to her eyes. “Here give it a minute and try it again.”

  “No,” she said. She brushed his hands away and pressed the cloth tightly to her face. “I’m finished. I don’t need to see. I’ll see tomorrow.”

  “It’s going to be just as unpleasant tomorrow. Better to get it over with.”

  She shook her head and tightened her hold on the cloth.

  “Come on, love,” he dropped his voice in tone, “let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.” He peeled the cloth away from her face and pried it from her fingers.

  “Are you doing that on purpose?”

  “Doing what?”

  “That thing with your voice.”

  “What thing?”

  “You dropped your voice an octave,” she said. “It makes me want to throw myself at you.”

  He grinned and fought back the desire to kiss her. Of course he was doing it on purpose. He’d made a lifetime study out of using his every gesture, every tone of voice and nuance of communication to seduce and manipulate. In all these years, no one had ever called him on it before.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Come on. I want you to open your eyes for me. You’ve got the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen…”

  “My eyes aren’t green.”

  “Yes they are. Beautiful shade of green.”

  “No, they’re not,” she said. “They’re my eyes. Don’t you think I know what color my eyes are?”

  “Apparently not.” His lips twitched. “Because they’re a deep, rich green.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open and her eyes filled with tears again. “They are not green. They’re amber. All Barrons have amber eyes.”

  He ducked his head and tried to get a good look at her eyes. “I’m seeing green.”

  She forced her eyes open and blinked twice against the moisture. “Amber!”

  He aimed the optical scanner at her eyes and took a quick reading. With a quick glance at the scanner to make sure it had collected data, he cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her head first one way then the other as he studied her eyes and the surrounding tissue.

  “Shows you what I know,” he said with an innocent smile. “They are amber.” Before he could help himself, he brushed a quick kiss to her lips and smoothed her hair away from her face. “What can you see?”

  Blinking she squinted in the low light, but the lines around her eyes gradually eased as her vision leveled out.

  “Not much,” she said. “Everything is really blurry.”

  Her brow furrowed.

  “What?”

  “That was a dirty trick, you pulled.”

  “What trick?”

  “Saying I had green eyes to get me to open them for you.”

  He grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She reached out and touched his cheek. “You have a nice smile.”

  “Did you see it?”

  She shook her head. “No,” she said. “Not really. I could tell you smiled from the way the blur changed. I remember when you smiled at me in the lounge, I thought you had a nice smile.”

  His hand covered hers. “Hell, Bo, even without your eyes you see me more clearly than my own brother does.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his face against her hand. “Nobody knows me better than Chase.”

  “Chase says you’re a paranoid sociopath.”

  He grinned. “That sounds about right.” Opening his eyes, he pressed a kiss to her palm. “It’s only paranoia if people aren’t
trying to kill you. People are usually trying to kill me. I don’t tell Chase everything.”

  Bo smiled. “I know.” She leaned forward and gestured him closer.

  He leaned over until he could feel her breath on his cheek. She braced her hand on his shoulder. He loved her gentle touch.

  “I don’t tell Royce everything either,” she whispered.

  “That’s good,” he whispered back. “I’m relieved to hear that. You wouldn’t believe what he threatened me with if I laid a hand on you.”

  Leaning back, she shot him a quizzical look. “He’s worried about your hands?”

  He grinned. “They were mentioned – among other things.”

  “There’s that smile again,” she said.

  “Where is your best focal range?”

  “My what?”

  “Where’s the sweet spot in your field of vision? How far from your nose can you see the best?”

  Her brow furrowed again and she lifted her hand to her face. She pressed her palm against the tip of her nose and moved it slowly away, stopping barely two hands’ breadth from her nose. “Here isn’t too bad,” she said. She moved her hand a little more and stopped. “I guess in here.”

  He leaned closer to her until he was in the area she had indicated. She squinted, trying to bring his features into focus.

  “Don’t strain.”

  She shook her head. “I still can’t see detail.” A sad smile quirked the corners of her mouth. “But at least smears of color are better than a big, dark nothing, right?”

  “You’re healing quicker than I did.”

  “Your eyesight was this bad?”

  “It was.”

  “How much of it came back?”

  “All of it.”

  Some of the tension eased from her shoulders. “So I just need to be patient?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have a hard time with that.”

  “So do I.”

  He studied her face, taking in the burned skin around her eyes, nose and mouth, still angry red and swollen. The shipboard dermal regenerator could only do so much. The equipment in the infirmary was only designed to stabilize patients for transport to more comprehensive facilities. Her margin for healing without needing reconstruction was dwindling.

  “You should have gone with Royce,” he said.

 

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