by J. M. Page
He covered her hands with his on the controls, and guided her gently, murmuring instructions to her. Celine leveled the craft out and inky blackness spread out before them, pinpricks of distant light filling their field of vision.
Celine took in another sharp breath, still seemingly in awe of the dazzling display.
He knew he might regret it, but he saw another chance. His gut bubbled and boiled with nervousness. He might regret saying something, but he definitely would regret saying nothing.
Ben took a deep breath, settling his hands on the dash again, giving her full control of the craft.
“Celine, I know this is strange, but I can’t help but feel like we’ve met before,” he said, gathering all the courage he could muster.
Her shoulders stiffened and her grip on the controls tightened as she tensed at his words. Without saying anything, she turned the ship so that the moon was back in view, the dust-covered planet off to their side, though still distant. Soon, they’d be beyond the reach of the planet’s gravity, though Ben wasn’t sure how much further they’d really go. The little ship he’d pilfered wasn’t really built for interstellar travel.
Celine said nothing, and Ben frowned, wondering how to best attack the subject. There was more that she wouldn’t say and he wanted — no needed — to know.
After a brief debate, he decided the only course of action left was bluntness.
“Have we?”
She nearly jumped out of her seat at the sound of his voice, refusing to look away from the moon. She shook her head, her mouth set in a grim line. “How could we?”
He let out a long breath. She wasn’t going to make this easy on him. That was for sure.
“I went to the Wastelands once, you know. Not too long ago.”
He watched her clench her hands tighter, wringing the controls.
“I was stupid and reckless, but I took a ship past the wall. A ship that wasn’t at all equipped for the journey, and I crashed.”
He looked for any sign of surprise, but there was none.
“My instruments were toast, I didn’t know how to get back to the city… I’m pretty sure I would have died out there.”
Still, she didn’t react.
“Someone saved me. They carried me back to the wall to safety, a stranger. I owe her a great deal,” he said, gratitude pouring through his voice.
Celine’s jaw was tight when she answered. “I’m sure whoever she is just didn’t want to see any harm come to you.”
“I would like to thank her,” he said, his voice warming.
“A good deed can be thanks enough in its own right.”
Ben clenched his teeth together. Why did she insist on being so difficult? He knew it was her. Why did she still deny it?
He hovered behind her, pretending to examine the controls. He let his fingertips trail down one bare arm, the one he remembered being different. His touch skirted over her soft skin, and he saw goosebumps rise to her flesh in response.
“I suppose. But I can’t help these memories I have,” he said, tracing lazy circles up and down her arm while Celine fought to maintain her stern look of concentration.
“M-me-memories?” she stuttered, still not looking at him.
Ben nodded. “Yes. She was different than anyone I ever met… Eyes so vivid I’ll never forget, and…” His fingers raked up her arm again and she shivered.
“And?”
Ben let out a huff of air, shaking his head. “Nothing, you’d probably think I’m crazy.”
Celine let go of the controls long enough to wipe her palms on her lap before she picked up her death grip again.
“Why do you say that?”
Ben hesitated. To say it or not to say it? There’d be no going back after this. They tip-toed around it long enough and it needed to be out in the open. He took a deep breath in preparation, watching her for the tiniest, most minute tell. Any flinch, tense, or jerk that revealed the truth of his words, he’d see it. He’d trained to see those things.
“Because,” he said, slipping his fingertips down over her soft skin again, “the woman that rescued me had a robotic arm.”
Though Ben was finely tuned to her, looking for the smallest change in behavior, it wasn’t necessary. The moment he said it, Celine jumped, jerking the controls to one side, sending them both careening into the opposite side of the cockpit as the ship lurched in response.
They tumbled together, slamming into the far wall as random debris rained down. Ben was disoriented for a moment, but then his arms found Celine and wrapped around her, holding her in place.
With quick, precise movements, he ran his hands over her body, checking for injuries. Normally, he’d be thrilled at the chance to touch her, but he keep it clinical and detached, just wanting reassurance that she was okay.
“I… I… I’m so sorry,” she said, verging on the brink of hysteria by the sounds of it. She tried to pull away from him, but Ben held her firm.
“Celine,” he said, a plea in his tone, “tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me what I saw was real. Tell me you’re her. You’re the woman that saved me. The woman I’ve been looking for.”
He searched her eyes for answers and found only a war behind them. She fought with herself internally and Ben wanted to growl and drag it out of her. Whatever it was. He didn’t lose his temper, though. That wouldn’t get him anywhere.
“Ben… I…” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled, unable to meet his gaze.
Finally, she lifted both hands in front of his face and turned them over. “How could I be?”
His stomach plummeted at her denial. He wasn’t satisfied, not by a long shot, but what could he do? He couldn’t force her to tell him the truth. He couldn’t plead with her. He couldn’t even trick it out of her.
He just had to accept that she didn’t want to tell him. At least not yet.
Before he could say anything, the ship rattled and trembled beneath them, causing them both to look up in alarm, Celine’s eyes wide with fear as they locked onto his.
“What was that?”
There was no time to answer her. Ben knew that sensation. He hopped to his feet, pushing her from his lap, and jumped behind the controls.
Gravity had a lock on them and Celine’s jerk of the controls sent them diving straight back into the atmosphere — fast.
Ben wrestled with the controls, fighting to steady the craft. The ship turned, banking, and soon they were in a spiral. Ben’s worst fear.
Celine muttered a string of incoherent apologies, her voice distant, still in shock he was sure. He didn’t have time to comfort her or reassure her this time. Ben thrust a finger to the seat next to him. “Sit down and strap in.”
Chapter Nine
Celine
Without a word of protest, Celine did as she was told. She slumped into the seat next to Ben and fumbled with the restraints, hands trembling and uncoordinated. He nearly found her out and her arm reacted in its own way, spasming of its own volition.
She knew he’d already pieced together the puzzle, but she hadn’t confirmed his suspicions. She couldn’t.
The buckle of the restraint missed another time, hands too shaky, before she was able to jam the two parts together.
Just in the nick of time, too, as the ship took a harsh lurch to the side, alarm bells blaring and a calm robotic voice saying ‘Warning’ over and over again.
The atmosphere hurtled toward them and Celine gripped her armrests, bracing herself for certain death. Part of her wanted to look over at Ben, to see if he was as sure of their demise as she was.
She’d done this to them, her and her stupid arm. She sent the ship careening off-course and now they plummeted to their doom. She wanted to cry, to apologize, to go back in time and undo everything she’d done.
How could she have been so stupid? So careless and reckless? Of course he recognized her. Recognition shone in his eyes from the moment they met behind the wall and Celine had been cocky enough, or naive e
nough, to think that she could fool him.
Well, there was only one fool here, and it was the one with the disobedient arm.
Ben seemed intent on outing her as a modder and Celine couldn’t help but wonder why. He’d been so convinced and so sure — but to what end? To have her jailed? Executed?
Maybe her father was right.
She finally chanced a glance over at Ben, his face set into a hard mask of concentration. He’d said he owed that girl a lot. She recalled his reverent tone with those words and remembered the way her stomach flip-flopped, knowing he was talking about her. That she was the one he owed.
Still, she couldn’t tell him the truth. Not that she’d ever have the chance now. Her secret was going to the grave with her and much sooner than she expected. It had to. It wasn’t just her life at risk, it was her father’s and everyone else’s in the Wastelands. Even though she was still angry with her father, she’d never condemn him to death at the hands of the humans he so feared.
She just couldn’t. Even if it would make Ben happy to know the truth. Some truths did more harm than good, she decided.
And that was the heart of the matter really. Her arm was a secret that no one would understand and it seemed to be getting worse. Where it had only been a nuisance at first, and she expected her control over it to improve, the arm from Scorpia seemed to be getting worse, somehow more autonomous.
Celine flexed her new hand, her stomach turning upside down, her insides quivering and acidic. The hand felt wrong somehow and it made her queasy to think about the trouble it had brought her.
Or maybe it was the screaming nosedive that made her queasy. Warnings and alarms pressed in on all sides, making her very skull vibrate with the unbearable racket.
Oh, Celine, what have you done?
Ben wrestled with the controls, fighting to pull the ship back before they crossed the point of no return. His hands were shocking white with his forceful grip, his jaw clenched tight. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his brow pushed down in a stern look of complete furious concentration.
Even with all the noise and the certain death rushing ever closer, Celine couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how close he’d come to kissing her. And how she’d never get the chance to do it now.
In the moment, she didn’t realize how badly she wanted his lips pressed to hers. She tried to ignore the thrum inside of her that insisted she get closer to him. Always closer.
Now she regretted that she ignored it. Regretted not giving herself up to him, even if she couldn’t be honest with him.
Locked in concentration as he was now, he was infinitely more attractive to her. There was a command about Ben behind the controls. A confidence and swagger, even in the face of disaster, that she found drool-worthy.
But there was no place for thoughts like that at a time like this! They were surely going to crash any moment, nothing left of them but pulverized dust, carried off into the sands to be forgotten.
If that was the case, though, was there any harm in relishing in her little fantasy in her last moments? His fingertips tracing up her arm, sending tremors up her spine, making her mouth dry and her head fuzzy.
The man had ensnared her and it was dangerous. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about it much longer.
And then, as if he’d read her thoughts and wanted to make her eat them, Ben stabilized the ship and the warnings ceased. He climbed back up, through the clouds, and smoothed their trajectory, coasting level and even.
It took Celine a while to accept that they really weren’t crashing, that they weren’t going to die, and that Ben had complete control over his ship. She looked out beyond the windscreen and spotted stars twinkling through the upper atmosphere, swirling clouds gobbling up everything below, and her heart began to slow.
Ben swiveled in his chair to face her, a stern, yet concerned expression written into his features. “Are you okay?”
Celine still gripped the armrests with white knuckles, and was sure that her hands were going to be permanently frozen into that claw-like grip. Were they really okay? Was it possible she hadn’t doomed them?
The was a soft click as Ben unbuckled his restraints and took the couple of steps to her side, his eyes still shimmering with the unanswered question.
Celine opened her mouth, once, then twice, trying to find her voice. She licked her parched lips and cleared her raspy throat where a scream of terror had been lodged ever since she threw them off-course. Now, she finally discarded it and nodded at him slowly.
“Yes, I’m just…”
Ben stooped, his warm palm cupping the side of her face, the rough pad of his thumb stroking the ridge of her cheekbone as he dropped to one knee, meeting her gaze head on.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Celine nodded again, mute this time, transfixed by the inexplicable hold he had on her.
“I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?”
Celine swallowed thickly, a heavy drum beating in her chest, her lungs tight and full of hot prickly air. She could get lost in that searching gaze of his. In the raw power of this man, of the danger they’d so narrowly escaped.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Celine lunged forward, closing the distance between them with an abrupt kiss.
Ben stiffened, his lips unresponsive and cold. She thought she’d read the whole thing wrong, that he didn’t want her after all, that she was just some silly girl projecting her fantasies on an unwilling partner.
Then his hand swept into her hair, cupping the back of her neck as he pulled her in, deepening the kiss. His lips became warm and pliant, coaxing her to open for him, to let him in. It wasn’t just the kiss he wanted from her, but that was all she could give him.
She answered his enthusiasm with her own, a surprising buoyancy lifting her up with his touch. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt. Unlike anything she’d imagined.
If you’d asked her a day earlier, Celine would have described the sensation like flying, floating and weightless, above and out of her body. But now that she’d actually flown, she knew it wasn’t a good comparison. The thrill and rush of flying paled next to that of kissing Ben.
His lips moved against hers and Celine felt light and airy, full of bubbles and electricity. She never wanted the kiss to end. Never wanted that moment to end.
But of course, it did.
Ben broke away from the kiss leaving them both panting for breath, eyes still locked together, hungry and intense. She wanted more and Celine was pretty sure he did, too.
The Prince gave her one of his signature half-cocked grins, resting his forehead against hers while her chest heaved, desperate to suck air into her lungs. Every gasping breath filled her with his scent and the raw masculinity that rolled off of him in forceful waves.
“That was my line, you know,” he said, his face still only inches from hers.
Celine frowned, her brain still fuzzy from endorphins. “What’s your line?”
Ben flashed a smile that nearly took her breath away and she knew she’d walked right into whatever he set up. “This,” he said, scooping her into another hungry kiss.
She could just melt away into a puddle at his touch. At the expert way his lips meshed with hers. She felt like he could make her shatter into a million pieces and she’d never be upset about it. His kiss spoke volumes that he couldn’t seem to, and she wanted to do the same. She wanted to give it everything. She wanted to give him everything. But still, she held back as guilt clawed at her insides.
Tell him the truth. Do it now before this goes further.
But Celine knew she couldn’t do that. There was far too much at stake. Countless lives, including her own.
Realizing the truth of the situation, she pulled back, her eyes cast down. “Ben, I—”
“Shh,” he said, pressing a fingertip to her lips ever-so-gently. “It’s okay. I don’t know what’s going on, and I know you’re not ready to tell me. I hope you’ll trust me with it someday
soon, but it doesn’t have to be today. All I know is I feel… something with you. Something I’ve never felt before and I want to keep feeling it. If that means you come to me with some secrets, then that’s something I’m going to have to live with for now.”
Celine looked up at him, wide-eyed before she couldn’t stand to stare into the heat burning in his eyes any longer. Looking into Ben’s gaze was like staring into the depths of a flame and she could only manage it so long before she had to turn away, blinking. Her pulse quicked, a rush a warmth flowing through her whole body as she nodded.
“I feel the same way,” she said, earning another broad smile from Ben. His hand still around the back of her neck pulled her closer and Celine closed her eyes in anticipation of another sweet heart-melting kiss.
She held her breath, that moment frozen in time, knowing the kiss was coming. But nothing came. Ben’s hand dropped from her neck and Celine frowned, opening her eyes in confusion.
He was still on one knee directly in front of her, but now the Prince looked off through the windscreen, his eyes unfocused and distant.
“What is it?” she asked, hoping to earn his attention again.
He just stared off with that vacant expression, like something inside of him had snapped and short-circuited.
“Ben?” Celine waved a hand in front of his eyes. “What’s wrong? What do you see?”
Her question seemed to snap him out of his stupor, at least a little. He sprang to his feet without a word, leaping back into the pilot’s seat, his hands flying over the controls.
Celine’s stomach twisted itself into knots. What now? Were they going to crash after all? Was something wrong with the ship? With her?
What could possibly make his mood do such a complete one-eighty? His expression had been soft with her, tender even as they kissed. Now it was hard, his forehead furrowed and creased, his mouth set into a thin grim line.
“Ben?” she tried again, her voice soft and worried even to her own ears.