Paul felt like a class A asshole before Liza’s mother came to sit with him in the waiting room. Somehow, having her there made him feel even worse.
He’d spoken out of hand to Liza, and he’d have to play hell to earn her forgiveness. When he made it back to the hotel, he’d have some major groveling to do. But it wasn’t until they said his dad would recover that he’d been able to see past his own fear.
Hell, he’d never been so scared before. It was all well and good to know he was a grown man and didn’t need his father anymore, but it was another entirely to have to accept and own the fact that he might lose his dad forever.
Life was short, as proved by this little incident. He and Liza wasted too much of theirs already, worrying about what other people thought. It was time to start living for themselves.
“You’re being awful quiet,” Liza’s mother pointed out.
“Thinking,” he said, honestly.
“You’ve always loved her, haven’t you?” she asked.
Glancing at her, it was easy to see that her daughter would look a lot like her one day. Their family aged gracefully, and Liza’s mom was still beautiful in a wise-woman sort of way. “Yeah,” he admitted. “You didn’t seem nearly as shocked as Dad when we announced that we’d gotten hitched.”
Liza’s mom—his new stepmother—leaned back in her seat with a smile. “The way you two look at each other? I’m just happy it’s more than lust. For a long time, I thought that was it. It has only been in this past week that I believed there was something more.”
He blinked at her, surprised. “What made you think that?”
“I’ve loved your dad, even when we didn’t get along, most of my life. I’ve seen the way he looks at me, the love in his eyes, for more years than I can count. How hard is it to recognize that same emotion on the face of his son? Not very, my boy. Rather easy, to be honest. You love my Liza, and now you’ve gone and pushed her away. Not your smartest move, and if she’s anything like me, she’ll run.” The older woman closed her eyes, resting her head on the wall behind the row of seats.
He said, “I’ll just talk to her. Tell her Dad is doing better and—”
“Her flight left an hour ago,” Liza’s mother pointed out.
“Flight?” he asked, feeling stupid and panicked all in one breath.
“Yes, Paul. She went home. After all, you told her this was a family affair and to basically fuck off, didn’t you?” Liza’s mother blinked at him, waiting until he acknowledged the truth.
“I can’t go after her,” he said, thinking through the situation as quickly as he could. “I can’t leave my dad.”
“Stay here. Be with your father until he recovers…then go after our girl.”
“You’re not worried about the stigma?” Paul asked her.
“Pfft,” Liza’s mother said with a wave of her elegant hand. Her new wedding band flashed angrily in the light. “You live in one state, we live in another. Who in the hell will know you’re stepsiblings by marriage if you don’t tell them?”
He swallowed hard. “You make a good point,” he admitted.
Just then, the doctor came in and Paul stood with her to listen to the results.
She was right, though. He’d stay with his dad, but once he was sure he’d be okay…
He was going after his girl. And he wasn’t wasting another moment on worrying about what people might think.
7
The doorbell rang, and Liza opened it to see a stranger in a tux. Blinking at the man, she felt horribly scruffy in comparison—hair in a wad on top of her head, hole in her tank top, scruffy pajama pants and bare feet—but she was even more surprised when he handed her a large bouquet of long stem red roses. “I’m sorry,” she explained to Mr. Penguin Suit, “I think you have the wrong apartment.”
“Liza Dirkwood?” the man asked.
She blinked at him, stunned into silence. She hadn’t told anyone about her hasty marriage—hell, the ring was in the candy dish on her coffee table—and she surely didn’t tell them about the new last name. “Yes?” she said after a moment, since she technically was a Dirkwood now…at least until she managed to divorce Paul.
“Would you allow me to escort you downstairs?”
One part of her said, hell no. Whatever this was, it was clearly planned by Paul. Did she want to see him again, after the way he’d basically claimed she was his and then dumped her like yesterday’s garbage when things went a little sideways?
Truthfully…yes, she wanted to see him again.
Lifting her chin, she silently reminded herself that she wanted to see him again to give him a piece of her mind, not a piece of her ass, before nodding to the stranger. “Yeah, you can totally escort me.”
The man glanced at her attire and lifted a brow in askance. “I can give you a moment to change, if you’d like, Mrs. Dirkwood.”
“Liza,” she informed him. Damned if she’d go by his name, not even for a moment. “It’s Liza and no thank you. I’m good as is.”
Following him, she kept her head high. A few rubbernecking neighbors glanced out to see her parading after the man in the tux—no doubt they made an interesting procession, with her in her pajamas, him in a suit, and with her carrying roses like a queen. She ignored them. Let Paul have his great moment—his grand gesture. Let’s just see how romantic he can be when I’m barefoot and scruffy, she thought with a smirk.
Inside the limo—did he go all stereotypical with his idea of romance or what?—there were champagne and strawberries, which she munched and sipped as was appropriate. Hell, she wasn’t the kinda gal to waste bubbly, and it didn’t soften her up. Not one iota.
But when they arrived at their destination and the driver held the door for her, she did stop.
Shocked. Dammit, she even misted up a little.
Her bare foot landed on soft green grass, and before her was a replica of their old tree house. Down to the sign he’d painted on the side, reading No Girlz Allowed, the little structure was perfect. She blinked fast in the dappled sunshine, and considered the house for a long moment before finally lowering her gaze to the man sitting cross-legged on a checkered picnic blanket below the tree.
“This is sweet, but you can save the romantic gestures for your second wife,” she snarked, rubbing her nose furiously to keep from sniffling.
“I’m not going to have a second wife,” he said. “I rather like the first.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she pointed out.
He rose slowly, twiddling something in his fingertips. “I was the fool, my Liza. I was scared, and I spoke out of turn. I’m going to ask you to forgive me, but before I do, I want to give you this.”
She opened her hand to take whatever it was, still sure she’d tell him off before she’d accept his apology. He didn’t love her—he’d fucked her. They had a good sexual relationship, that was it, and she’d deluded herself into thinking it was more.
But what he handed her was a faded and tattered friendship bracelet. Rubbing her fingers across it, she looked at him, confused.
“You made this for me,” he said. “I wore it and read your letters over and over. Here’s the letters.” He handed her a shoebox. “I kept every one, even though they’re worn in places from me reading them so many times. When we were together, it was like life was worth living—in full color and surround sound. When you’re gone, everything is gray. I wore the bracelet for years, until it fell apart so many times that I was afraid of losing it, then I stuck it in my wallet and carried it with me. You’ve always been my heart, and you’ll always be my heart.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she choked on a sob, but she managed to ask him, “How would this even work? I’m your stepsister, Paul. People will…”
He caught her shoulders, pulling her into his arms. She was surrounded by his scent, by his warmth, by Paul. It felt like coming home. When his voice rumbled up from his chest, she could hear and feel his words. “We live states away from our parents. No one w
ill know unless we tell them, but do we care? I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks, at least, anyone beyond you. Stay with me. Marry me. Be my forever.”
“I already married you,” she pointed out, kissing his throat. “And you’re crazy.”
He dropped to one knee, looking up at her. “You deserved the perfect proposal and your own wedding day. I’ll give you them and a whole life of happiness. Please, just…be mine, Liza.”
She shook her head, more tears falling. “I don’t need perfect, and I don’t need all those things. I just need you.”
When his mouth closed on hers, she knew they’d make it work somehow.
Forever, she was his.
And he was hers.
THE END
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author Virginia Nelson is the hybrid author best known for The Penthouse Prince. Aside from that, she’s the mother of three wonderful biological children and tons of adopted kids and critters. Virginia is a graduate of Kent State University with an Associate of Science and a Bachelor of Arts in English and a current student at Seton Hill University where she’s pursuing a Master of Fine Arts in Writing Popular Fiction. Sometimes called the rainbow unicorn of romance, she’s also far from perfect and she knows it. You can find out more about her—including where to find her on social media—on her website.
Books for sale. Snark for free.
virg-nelson.com
Ship Called Malice
Rebecca Royce
Copyright © 2017 Rebecca Royce
All rights reserved.
Note from the Author
Dearest Reader,
Thank you so much for checking out Ship Named Malice (Wings of Artemis). If you are reading this in the anthology then please don’t fret if you haven’t read the rest of the series yet. This is a standalone book within the Wings of Artemis universe. It has a start and an end. While I may pull these characters into future stories as secondary plot lines (and I’m not even sure yet if that will happen), you will not meet any characters from any other Wings of Artemis book here. You can feel free to read this book. You will not be lost.
However, if you would like to read the rest of the series the reading order is:
Kidnapped By Her Husbands https://www.books2read.com/kidnappedbyherhusbands
Rescued By Their Wife https://www.books2read.com/rescuedbytheirwife
Crashing Into Destiny https://www.books2read.com/crashingintodestiny
Meeting Them https://www.books2read.com/meetingthem
Reclaiming Their Love https://www.books2read.com/reclaimingtheirlove
Loving Them https://www.books2read.com/lovingthem
Saving Them (coming soon) https://www.books2read.com/saving-them
If you’d like to stay in touch, please visit www.rebeccaroyce.com and sign up for my newsletter.
Hugs,
Rebecca Royce
1
Married. Wait! What?
I staggered, the chains around my ankles making it difficult for me to stay upright, particularly in the heels and tiny skirt they’d forced me to wear. I didn’t dare risk the fall. One misstep, and I’d create a domino effect, colliding with the woman in front of me. We’d all fall if that happened. I was sure my captors would beat me for that. They had a schedule to keep and missteps were not tolerated.
Tripping might make me worth less money to them. They couldn’t have the buyers see me looking clumsy.
I sucked in the sob threatening to escape me. This was reality. This was actually happening. My father had sold me to these monsters, and now my future was in the hands of the highest bidders.
Never again would I see a sunset come over my small mountain village on the planet of Fasia Two. Never again would I see my sisters dance in the rain or smell my mother’s cooking. The rest of my life would be determined on this disgusting, dirty, loud, dangerous space station.
There were so few women in the universe, and my father was able to produce girl babies. So auctioning off his progeny was how he made a living, how he and my mother survived. I had no idea how truly awful my fate would be.
My older sister lived near Earth. I was as pretty, capable, and smart as she was—neither one of us being particularly gorgeous. Yet they’d brought me to the most savage part of space—the Dark Planets—while she earned a spot in a much more civilized zone. I would find no good men simply looking for a strong wife here. These men were hard, brutal, and most likely on the run from authority.
I swallowed as the whole line of women jerked, a force I couldn’t see tugging us all forward at once.
The space station atmosphere aligned perfectly with its rough location. Loud bangs hurt my ears, dust coated my every breath, and people tumbled onto the hard deck alongside us as they were forcibly expelled from the bars. Children begged for food and water on their hands and knees. This wasn’t anything like my home. I didn’t know how to handle the noise or how to manage drunken brawls. The smell. The hard edges.
It was hell.
The girl behind me wasn’t as steady on her feet as I had been and plowed into my back. I oomphed, but it was drowned out by the clamor on the station. The woman in front of me wasn’t prepared for me to hit her. One by one, we all went down. Pain jolted through my body. Someone’s foot struck forward, hitting me in the head. It vaguely registered that my vision seemed to have doubled.
Then nothing at all.
* * *
A slow beeping noise invaded my awareness, and I struggled to open my eyes. I knew this noise. Even on a farm as small as our own, we had a med machine. Still, this one seemed roomier than I was used to. I wasn’t a small person. I’d been made to work the land, or at least that was what my mama used to say. The few times I’d been in the machine, I’d wanted to scream at being confined. Here, I was actually able to breathe.
The question was: how had I gotten here, wherever I was?
Movement beneath me told me I was on a ship. I’d never been in space before the day the men had come for me. For two nights, I hadn’t been able to sleep because every molecule in my body rejected being off the ground. I’d pretty much forgotten how to walk for a while.
The top of the machine opened, and three men stared down at me. As I examined them from my vantage point, I made myself breathe. Okay. There were three men I didn’t know, and I was in a med machine.
The first one, closest to my right, was bald. Or maybe he shaved his head. His face was round, and he had strong cleft in his chin. His eyes were green and his gaze hard. I could only see the top half of his body, which included a black t-shirt and inked up, muscular arms. His neck had the colorful designs on it, too.
Next to him was the tallest fellow in the group. His skin was dark, almost black. I thought he might be able to wrap his whole hand around my arm, and I wasn’t small. His gaze was kind and his brown eyes questioning. He kept his hair short, shaved practically to his scalp. My sister, Suzanna, would have wanted to sculpt him. She would have said he looked like a man who should be captured for all time.
Finally, the third man, the shortest of the group, assessed me with sharp blue eyes. He had light-brown hair, almost blond in places. His long face might have been considered beautiful if not for one long scar. It ran from his left ear, swooping across his chin and slightly back up the right side. What in the galaxy had happened to him?
The bald man extended his hand, and I took it—he was scary, and I really didn’t want to make him mad—helping me to sit. I swung my legs over the edge of the machine and let them dangle.
“Hello.” The middle guy with the face made for artwork spoke first. “How are you feeling?”
Clearing my dry throat, I gave him a look of apology. I was parched. The one with the scar handed me some water, and I drank deeply. Relieved, I said, “Fine.”
The work of art nodded. “That’s good. How much do you remember?”
“Um.” I hadn’t had very much experience speaking to men except for my father, and the less he
had said to me the better. “I tripped. No, the girl behind me fell, and so we all did. I got kicked in the head.”
The first man looked at the second, who then glanced at the third. It was the bald man who spoke. His voice was rough, like sandpaper vocalized. “Not much then. Well, girl, it looks like you’re married to us.”
I blinked. “Wait. What?” The room tilted left. I’d expected to get married. I was headed for the auction block. But I’d thought to remember it.
“First off,” Blue Eyes began. His voice sounded to me more like a melody, like he’d been trained in how to make his sentences flow. “Let’s do names. We know you’re Priscilla. We have the paperwork. I’m River. This one next to me is Jordan and next to him is Bo. You’re safe here.”
Okay. So these were my husbands. I’d been purchased. I…
“We married you to get you out of there. We don’t believe in selling women. It’s a barbaric practice. But they were going to give you to a truly terrible man. It seemed the only way to rescue you, given we were surrounded by paid mercenaries at the time. We’ll drop you wherever you want to go and that can be that.” Bo put his hand on my back and encouraged me off the med machine.
On my feet, I discovered they were far taller than I’d realized. I wasn’t a small girl. I could look my father in the eyes, and he was nearly six feet in height. I swallowed. Think, Priscilla, think. I’d been given some important information, and I had to concentrate.
My mind… it didn’t work like other people’s. I was always jumping from one thought to another, like someone swiping from screen to screen. Okay. I could do this.
“I… I don’t understand. You married me, but not for real, and now you want to drop me off somewhere?”
Married. Wait! What? Page 4