The steering began bucking in his hands. He fought it, kicking the emergency flaps, struggling to keep them upright. The cruiser tilted hard to the passenger side.
Emprezia gripped the door. Her knuckles whitened.
The air grew warmer and denser as they descended. He stomped hard. The flaps unfurled, throwing them the opposite direction. His elbow smashed the door. Emprezia froze into a statue. The sea loomed at their forward shield.
He stood on the flap pedals and pulled back on the wheel with all his might. His muscles shook at the breaking point.
The nose lifted.
They smashed into the water. He jerked against his harness; she did as well. A piece broke off and zinged past his eye; something bit his shin. The ocean enveloped them and slid off.
The cruiser rocked violently in the rough waves and clanked against the buoy.
His hands gripped the wheel.
They bobbed away and clanked the buoy again. A wave crashed over their cruiser shield and tiny dots of wet spray flecked his hot face.
Shit. He needed to anchor them.
Kaolin released the steering wheel, finally, and activated the anchor. It magnetically stuck their cruiser to the larger, immobile buoy.
They remained seated.
Balmy wind whistled through the cruiser.
His passenger looked surprised but unhurt. Good.
He was unhurt mostly; his hands ached and he tasted blood. He’d have other pains, but not as bad as some of his practice crashes.
Really, though, this was fucking ridiculous. He’d promised to take Dom’s distractingly beautiful fiancée safely to Dom’s castle. Instead, he’d crashed her into the ocean like an idiot. From what he saw of the twisted wreck she called a yacht, this was her second crash of the day. Even if they survived, he wasn’t sure his ego would.
The gorgeous woman sucked in a deep breath and patted her arms and legs. She felt her face as though searching for oculars. “What is the ETA of our rescue?”
Yeah. About that.
She neatened her giant dress and even larger headdress. “I assume you have contacted someone.”
“The port shut down for the night and, like I said, we’re too far from the house perimeter.”
She wheeled to face him. “Tell me you’re lying.”
“Lies only bite people in the ass.”
“Then….” She tilted her head and studied the cruiser. “We will effect our own rescue?”
“Soon as the sun hits the solar panels.”
She blinked. “We are out of charge.”
He nodded.
“That’s impossible.”
“Someone got to the solar plug. I fixed it at the landing pad, but it must have fried the impulse charger. We can fly on solar power, but not at night.”
“Who maintained this vehicle?”
“Me.”
“Only you?”
He nodded again. “Up until the main port, nobody touched her but me.”
She looked at his hands on the steering controls strangely. Realization flew across her face. Her eyes widened. Her gaze darted to his hip and traced his profile, searching the area around his pockets.
“What?” he asked.
“Now you’ve got me alone.” She tightened her hands into fists. “What did you want from me?”
Okay. Come on. Missing a loose solar plug was a newbie mistake. But it wasn’t his.
He jerked a thumb at his chest. “This wasn’t my idea.”
She tightened even harder. He could almost hear her nerves shriek. “Are you working with the Corleons?”
“What?”
“My family’s arch enemies. The pirates preying on our pilots and destroying our shipping lines.”
“I’m a race pilot. Why would I want to make other pilots’ lives hell?”
She studied him from the side of her eye for a long, lingering moment.
Beneath the mounds of intricately quilted fabric and jewels, her incisive blue eyes edged in smoky lashes. Her small, pink mouth pursed. Flat cheeks, the legacy of the Chen family, were dotted artfully with additional jewels that glittered like butterflies.
She was breathtaking. Stunning. Delicate, regal, feminine, everything an ordinary man could aspire—
And extremely skeptical.
Emprezia glared at him for the lie. “The Sarits are a family of carpenters. You have yet to fly in a race.”
“I sent in my entry for the Red Line today.”
“Who’s financing it? The Corleons?”
“Dom.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you deny, then, that you had any hand in this crash?”
Fuck. At the end of the day, it was the pilot’s responsibility to care for his passenger. “I should’ve run a diagnostic at the landing pad.”
“I hope you prepare better for your race than you do for your courier duties.”
A beat passed.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“It’s fine,” he murmured.
Who had sabotaged the cruiser? The house was on a skeleton crew and he’d only parked at the main port long enough to register his flight plan and grab a cup of coffee. Then her ship had come in and he’d headed off to the landing pad.
“Okay.” She dropped her hand. “Tell me right now that I can believe you.”
“You can.”
Her skin was distractingly smooth on her clear, wide cheeks, with a subtle dusting of freckles along her upturned nose. Her neck curved, long and creamy, and he wanted to hold her close and sink in his teeth. Her incisive eyes stared deep into his soul. Her gaze felt like she was gripping his chest in one hand and his cock in the other.
Her gaze dropped to his chest and lower, and his member flushed with heat. “Alright, Kaolin Sarit. I am in your hands.”
He started to move. Pain sliced up his spine.
He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth. Fuck. He had some cuts and bruises, ordinary injuries. Below, one of the pedals broke off and the metal gashed his flight suit, scratching his shin. Blood welled and dripped.
“You’re injured.” She searched the empty cruiser for a med kit, but it had been forgotten or removed.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not going to die.”
She pulled off two strips of fabric from her dress, one short and one long. Opening her clutch, she pulled out a tube of lipstick and coated her lips, rubbed them together, and kissed the shorter strip. A line of soft, pink lips decorated the short strip. She handed him the strips.
He held them.
“It’s ancient first aid,” she told him. “You place the smaller strip against the injury and wrap it with the longer strip. Pressure stops the bleeding.”
He was familiar with the concept from historical holos, but that wasn’t what had made him pause. He did as instructed.
“Wait. The short strip goes pink-side in.”
He paused again and looked at her.
“Oh.” Her smooth cheeks flushed and she looked flustered. “The lipstick contains a healing compound activated with saliva.”
That sounded weird.
She shifted in her seat as though she had heard his thoughts. “I bought it for my son. They said, if he injured himself, he might be afraid of a med pen. A mother can always ‘kiss and make it better’.”
Her flush was adorable. Here was an empress, leader of a family, and she had bought and carried a specialized lipstick to comfort her child.
She shifted again. “I know it was unnecessary. Who needs a med pen that doesn’t work until it’s activated by saliva? They had compelling advertisements.”
He finished tying the sashes and straightened.
“I hope it helps.”
“Yeah.” Maybe the tingles in his leg were from the medicine, and maybe they were from the kisses. “I’ve got other injuries.”
Her eyes were startling blue and luminous. “Oh?”
He held out his hand. The backs of his kn
uckles were scraped.
Her long lashes flickered. She lowered her lips and pressed the butterfly softness to his rough hands.
Fuck. Heat flooded his cock and brought it pulsing to life.
He sucked in another breath.
She lifted her head. The flush deepened. Her chest rose and fell. “Any more?”
He touched the gash on his chin.
She moved forward as though magnetized and kissed his unshaven jaw. Her feminine scent wafted over him, wrapping around his cock like silk ribbons. Jasmine and lilies.
She moved back again. She licked her lips and breathed shallowly, restraining herself as much as he did. “More?”
His cock pulsed.
He touched his lips.
She stared at them for a long, aching moment.
Then, she closed her eyes, straightened into her imperial gown, and nodded to herself. She gave him the lipstick. “You’ll have to get that one yourself.”
Right. Shit. He got caught up in the moment. Flirting with Dom’s fiancée was wrong.
Kaolin swiped his index finger over the pink cream and put it on the side of his cheek, where his teeth had snapped together. He handed it back to her.
Their fingers brushed.
A sizzle of awareness leapt across his skin.
She hesitated, then snatched the lipstick and tucked it away.
“Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” She let out a long breath. They were alone, the two of them, and the sun was going down. “We don’t have any signals.”
“No.”
She settled back in her seat wearily. “I didn’t anticipate this.”
“Right.” Who did? Perhaps the ocean could simply swallow him now.
The princess—or goddess, or possibly a deity—clasped her hands. “Does this sort of incident happen frequently?”
“No.”
She deactivated the safety harness, touched the “release” on her dress and headdress, and clambered out of them like a mechanic exiting from a hydraulic suit.
Beneath, she wore a slim, red flight suit. Unfathomably expensive silk stitched the Chen crest: a red dragon encircling a fist erupting through a sun.
She leaned across to his controls and tapped the force shield to deactivate it. The shield shimmered and fell away, and water sprayed into the cruiser. While he was wiping off, she put her slippered foot on the ledge of the cruiser door and hopped onto the buoy.
“Hey!” He scrambled after her, taking much longer with the stupid harness, and landed awkwardly on the crusted metal. “Where are you going?”
She trotted across the buoy to the ladder, climbed up to the landings, and reached the highest level.
By the time he limped to her, she was already putting away a private communicator. “No signal.”
“No, we can’t get much of anything down here,” he agreed, catching his breath.
“I had a full emergency comm in my luggage.”
“Damn.”
“As well as unread reports.” A flash of blue fire glowed in her eyes. “Do you know how long it’s been since I was cut off from my work?”
She gripped the golden-crusted guardrail and stared out over the sea. Warm winds blew her short, dark hair across her cheeks. She tugged the locks out of her way.
“It’s been a long time,” she said softly, staring out at the sea. “A really long time.”
He wondered if he should apologize again. “It happens.”
“It doesn’t happen to me.”
Well, there wasn’t anything he could do about it right now. “You could enjoy the view.”
She glanced at him.
“It’s not the best view, but it’s not bad,” he said.
“Where is the best view?”
“Up on the top of the island, the very tip-top. There’s a little patch of grass up there, soft and smells good, and you can lie back on it. It’s best at night. Feels like you could reach up and touch the sky.”
Her eyes followed his, into the distance. Seeing not the horizon, but an endless stretch of perfect wonder.
“I would like to see it,” she said.
“There’s room for two.”
She flicked back to him. A question lingered on her lips. But, she didn’t ask, and he wasn’t sure what it was.
“Every view on this planet is great,” he said. “It’s why Dom settled here. It’s picturesque.”
She gazed out again. “What am I looking at?”
He pointed to the crags on the horizon. “That’s Dom’s island. It’s been in the family for millennia. He built it out in the last couple centuries, mostly using my family’s hardwood. You’ll see it tomorrow.”
She dipped her head.
Although “carpenter” was an insult, his family did own the bromeliad-orchidae forests. Each tree could be replanted and cultivated into a fragrant orchid-filled abode, and Dom’s contract to enhance his castle with nature had led Kaolin here to meet him in the first place.
“You are his project manager,” she said.
“Was,” he said. “I win a couple races, get a few more sponsors, and that’s done.”
“I understand your brother is the ‘artist’ in the family.”
Yep. “I bring in clients. Now I’m staying with Dom, I meet more interesting people.”
Her face lifted. “Thank you for allowing us passage. With the centennial celebration approaching, it never occurred to me that Domingo would not be home.”
“He’s visiting his genetic heir.”
Sadness crossed her face. “I understand they’re close.”
“She’s his life.”
The sun crested the horizon and slid below, a giant yellow yolk disappearing into a golden stew. He rested his hand beside hers on the guardrail. The first stars glimmered.
“Did you want to get back in the cruiser?” he asked. “It’s going to be dark soon.”
“Here is less cramped.” She moved to the central support column of the buoy, slid down to a seat, and looped her arms over her knees. “Tell me about racing.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything.” She rubbed her head. “Something I don’t have to remember. I’m tired and I don’t want to think.”
He obliged her, sitting gingerly with his bruised shin. He described the different types of tracks and engines and prizes. She seemed soothed by his voice. Evening slipped into night.
At times, such as when he was describing mother racers kissing their young sons goodbye, she sniffed.
He stopped. “Can I ask? You seem sad.”
She withdrew and rubbed her hand on her leg, frowning.
Damn. He backed off. “It’s none of my business.”
“No.” Her sigh whispered away her regret.
Quiet settled over them. The night remained balmy, despite the occasional spray. She yawned.
“Did you want to try to sleep?” He offered his shoulder.
After a brief hesitation, she allowed him to put his arm around her narrow shoulders, and she rested her head on his. She felt soft and warm, more like a dream than like a woman, but the curve of her waist against his palm told him she was all too feminine.
His cock pulsed to life, reminding him that it had never really gone away. It was iron hard and ready. Ready to lay her down, kiss away her sadness, drown her in pleasure, lose them both in ecstasy.
Stop. It meant nothing.
Like Dom, she seemed ordinary once she warmed up to him, but they were really at a different level.
He closed his eyes, savoring the sensations. He had held more than one woman in his arms, but none so beautiful, and capable, and exotic. Her skin smelled like lilies and her hair added a new spice, piquant and sweet, like cardamom.
He rested his head against the buoy to watch over her while she slept.
“You asked me whether I was sad.” She let out a long sigh and touched his leg. “I’ve been thinking about my son.”
Chapter Three
<
br /> Why was she telling this man, this stranger, about her son?
Emprezia didn’t have an answer.
Mere hours before, when the cruiser engine failed, she had suspected Kaolin of being an assassin. It was a suspicion she quickly dismissed. Sexy in leather and smoldering in his flight suit, his only danger to her was the squeeze he caused in her heart.
Emprezia trusted few things unconditionally. Her judgment about danger was one of those things.
“He’s almost five now.” A lump bobbed in her throat. She swallowed it down and cleared her throat. “It was a genetic contract with the solar director of the Seven Stars system. A good contract, too.”
She had received exclusive rights to seven hundred textile designs, which were currently accumulating incredible wealth for her family.
“Five is an intense age. How’s he doing?” Kaolin asked.
She shook her head. Her hair rustled against his jacket. “I don’t know. I receive status reports, but….”
At first, she had read them every day, obsessively committing every detail to memory. Then, as time went on, the pain eclipsed her drive. Now she filed them neatly, like unread committee reports.
“That’s too bad,” he said. “People are adults for centuries, but they’re only kids for about two decades. The time flies by.”
Yes. He understood.
Sharing about her son revealed a weakness. And making herself vulnerable to the close, personal friend of her fiancé was as dangerous as letting her heart win and stroke the hot body she wanted to touch.
Not just kiss his capable hands or his hard jaw. Give in and slip her tongue into his hot mouth and lose herself in his healing kiss.
Because this leather-clad pilot, who she shouldn’t even be here with, understood.
Her son’s first words, his first steps, his first hugs, his first dreams. She grieved for the memories she’d already missed, and the memories she would continue to lose.
Emprezia smoothed the wrinkles from Kaolin’s flight suit. She was only straightening it properly. Not also appreciating the hard muscle beneath the cloth.
“I felt for my son more deeply than I expected. ‘Children are a burden and too demanding. Everyone prefers they be raised by wellness centers.’ That’s what they said.”
“Some parents do.”
“But not me.” She leaned forward, his easy-going acceptance of her situation making it easy to be honest. “I found Aris to be fascinating. Waking and sleeping, and all his little noises…. Watching him learn and grow was like watching the evolution of mankind.”
Liberation Origins: SciFi Romance (Robotics Faction - Origins Series Book 1) Page 2