by Bex McLynn
But he had withheld this part of himself from Seph. Never disclosed his family connections, and now here he was, desperate to share them with her. Wanted her to understand the significance of sharing a gods awkward meal with his son and brother. Wanted her to know before she left, because this could be the last time the four of them gathered together.
His frustration and impatience spurred his gruff announcement. "Rannik's my son. Therion's my brother."
The cabin's silence took on a new edge, becoming raw and wild—a beast waiting to pounce.
He didn't duck his gaze to his tray but watched their small gathering's reaction. Therion cringed, as if Zver had made a crass remark. Rannik gasped, wounded, as if he'd been betrayed. But he watched Seph. For Seph, he waited.
Seph raised her beautiful brown eyes, confusion marring her features.
"What?" Her voice sounded soft, as if he just woke her up from dreaming.
He didn't repeat himself. He knew she had heard him. She just needed a moment to comprehend.
He watched as the revelation played across her face. She cast her eyes to Rannik, who regarded her warily, then to Therion, who barely noticed her because he glared at Zver. Back and forth, her eyes ran determinedly over his son's and brother's features. She unfurled herself from her position on the floor, straightening, making small, stiff adjustments to her back, shoulders, and arms. With android-like rigidity, she turned and faced him.
"I see," she said, her enticing lull gone flat.
"Seph, it's not what you think," Therion said in a rush, his tone sharp due to his anger with Zver.
"Tell me what I am thinking, Therion," she said each word carefully, almost over-enunciating, thickening her accent. More noticeable.
"You're thinking that we lied to you," Therion said, for once sounding genuinely earnest. Gods, he sounded desperate. "But that's not true. We just didn't tell you."
Seph blinked at him, once, and her lips curled into a mockery of a smile. "I see."
"Dammit, Therion. You're making it worse." Rannik turned hopeful, pleading eyes to Seph. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to treat me differently."
Seph's hardness softened, and Zver—Unholde take him—was jealous of his son in that moment.
"I understand, Ran." She reached out and touched his son's arm. He was jealous of that touch as well. "You tried to explain this to me before. And now that I know, I truly understand."
Therion twitched on the couch. Zver twitched as well, feeling the impact of her words in his chest.
"Gods, Seph," Rannik said, cringing. "You look so mad."
Her false smile never wavered. She shook her head, vague and weary and speechless.
"And if I said that I didn't want you to treat me differently?" Therion asked timidly.
"I suppose, I would think, that you were lying to me," she said. "Making a joke at my expense. You're nothing like your brother." She spoke her last word with disdain, meant to strike at both he and Therion because they were alike. They both were liars.
Seph finally turned to him. Her brown eyes looked hollow.
"I never would have hurt him."
She stood—Therion the only one who protested—and retreated to the small berth.
"Godsdammit, Zver!" Therion said. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Zver focused on his son. Rannik stared back, fury vibrating his body.
His son spoke lowly, rumbling almost like a man. "She's right. She wouldn't have hurt me because she's not like my mother."
Therion jammed his hands into his hair, shaggy and ragged from his year on Prykimis. Panicked, he rambled unchecked. "Dear gods, do you think she knows about his mother? Should we tell her? Fuck! She's already pissed, so it couldn't make things worse, right? We should tell her."
"I don't want her to know," Rannik said hotly. "Because then she'll know."
He understood what Rannik feared. If Seph knew who his mother was, she would figure out he was a xero.
He waited until Rannik looked at him before speaking. "Seph's nothing like your mother. She's nothing like the Teras. Whatever you're thinking, stop. She'd never judge you, Rannik."
Hell, he knew Seph cared for his son—something Rannik's mother ceased pretending to do when Rannik failed all technopathic tests. He had remained simply a xero—an ancillary child who had been conceived so that clutching was more pleasurable.
When Zver had first tentatively probed Seph's body, he had told her she was deep. Even now, the thought of sinking his cock so far into her cunt kicked up his heart-rate. Teras women couldn't take a man as deeply, not unless they were already pregnant, and the growth of the child began the depletion of the woman's medullary bone. Powerful men aggressively courted gravid Athela. Some women formed clutches as they carried the heirs of their house. Others chose xero clutching, carrying the child of an unimportant man, to make clutching more enticing and pleasurable for more prominent men.
He never would have joined a xero clutch, but Rannik's mother had hidden the pregnancy during negotiations. She had truly believed that the first time he sank deeply into her, she would have captured him for her own. He was a younger man back then, and brazenly rationalized that the deed had already been done—and not by any action he took—so why waste what promised to be good fucking? So he used her. Stopped when the medic deemed it time. Then watched her abandon the babe. After months of having that small presence pressed between their bodies, reacting to his voice, he just couldn't walk away.
So Zver raised a son that the Dominion ignored. Until his son found Seph.
"Sooner or later, someone was going to tell her I'm a xero," his son said. "I just never thought it was going to be you."
"And I didn't tell her." He forced his voice to remain even. "I claimed you the way I've always claimed you." With pride. Such pride. He ignored his other relations—his fool brother, even his Athela grandmother—but he always claimed Rannik.
Therion rubbed roughly at his chest. "Gods, I don't like the way this feels. Fuck. Should have told her from the beginning. Even I know she isn't like the others."
Rannik's brow crinkled. "Others?"
"The others," Therion said tersely, like that explained it all.
"Therion!" His imbecile brother was about to say more than he damn well should.
"What others?" asked Rannik.
"Other women," Therion said, still rubbing distractedly at his chest. "The ones your father..."
As typical, Therion stopped far too late. Fucking Therion.
Now Rannik regarded him with hollow eyes. "You're clutching with Seph?"
Damn. He went for omission. "She has not formed a new clutch."
Rannik just blinked, then raged. "I'm not a fucking child, father! Are you having sex with Seph?"
He wanted to tell his son 'yes' and purge the ache from his body. He wanted to say 'yes' because he wanted Seph to be his. Because he believed, given time, she could be both of theirs. Filling that space between a father and son, connecting them the way a woman who was wife to one and mother to the other should.
He knew whether he spoke or not, Rannik would deduce the truth. How could his son not? Zver practically trailed after Seph like an infatuated idiot. He gave her armor. Assigned an entire company to protect her. He killed mutineers. Hell, he brought her food and encouraged her to talk about her feelings. He was compelled to be with her.
Rannik rounded on Therion. "And I'm not a fucking child, Therion. I know about the other women. And Seph is too fucking good to be one of them."
Rannik stormed from the cabin, retreating out into the Athel Hall, slamming the hatch behind him.
The metallic clang filled the room, ringing his ears as he exchanged shocked expressions with his brother. Well, as shocked as he ever permitted himself to look. He supposed he grimaced.
"Fuck." Therion shook his head, cupping his ears. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" He lurched to his feet. "Well, now it's my turn to storm out on you, Zver. And you know what, I agree with you. Sh
e should know that the three of us are a fucked up family. But, fuck, Zver. Just, fuck."
His brother stormed out.
So he sat, eavesdropping on Seph through her WristCune. Her quietness disturbed him. No tears. He remained, listening for any sound that would reveal her thoughts until Varlet came to collect him, to take him back to Deleo.
Seph lay on the bunk, weighed down by a terrible ache deep in her chest. She had trouble drawing air. Her heartstrings had snapped.
Heated words, shouted in the deep Teras timbre, vibrated through her limbs. The Borac Boys argued with each other. A bitter chuckle escaped her lips.
Looking at the three of them now, how could she have been so blind?
Rannik was Zver's son. Of course he was. How much more obvious could Zver have been? He was livid when she accidentally formed a clutch with Rannik. As commander of this entire operation, he still took time to dote on the youth. Hell, the only reason she met Zver was that he was tracking down his son on Prykimis.
Once again, she failed to connect to the reality around her.
She pounded at her chest, willing her heart to stop breaking.
That Zver hadn't trusted her hurt. She understood why, too. Rannik was Zver's to protect—from a freaky woman creeping on his teenaged son, to a damn alien who imploded on so many levels: socially, culturally, politically, technopathically...
She'd keep her child away from her, too.
Xander.
Her hurt ebbed away as she thought about Xander. She never told Zver about her son. Her reasons were the same as Zver's; she was protecting her child. Yes, Xander wasn't here, but she didn't want him used against her. She wanted everything about him safe from this alien world, including knowledge of his existence.
Seph thought she felt something. A small nudge at the edge of her awareness. A caress.
"[I wake.]"
Knuckles rapped on the hatch. A deep voice. Zver. "Seph. It's time."
It's time. She inhaled a ragged breath that shredded her. She might as well have inhaled shards of glass. It's time.
Zver was leaving.
But like this? With so much ache between their bodies? With so much pounding in her head?
She stumbled off the bed, making a hasty grab for the hatch. Swinging it open, she threw herself at him. Another rabid attack on his person because she didn't want him to go.
She grappled the shit outta him.
Clung to him like he was the only one with a parachute.
Wrapped him like a present and she was the paper.
Squeezed him for drops of essential oils.
The Teras had it all wrong. This was clutch. The need to hold onto someone so tightly, yet so gently, because they were precious to you. Because you wanted to keep them with you, always. Because when you parted, you would still hold a piece of them inside of you.
"Not yet," she said.
Because if they had more time, he would see that she could be good for Rannik. That she could be good for him, too. And if she had more time, she would tell him about Xander.
"Seph." She could feel him shaking, redirecting his unbelievable strength into clenching his own muscles without constricting his arms. The kind of embrace you'd give someone fragile, because you wanted to hold them fiercely, yet knew to temper your grasp. "You can do this. Get Prykimis to safe harbor and then come to me."
But she had more important things that needed to be said. "I never would have hurt your son, Zver."
"I know, Seph."
"I love him like he's my own."
"I know, Seph. I just had to tell you. Had to make sure you knew. He is mine."
"God, he's a good kid, Zver. The best."
"I know, Seph. Gods, do I know."
They held each other.
"Thane," his man said. "It's time."
"Listen to Wies." His deep voice wavered. "Trust fucking Therion."
"I will."
He swore, but pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her crown. "You're House Borac, Seph."
"Aye."
"Aye." He kissed her crown once more. Then he walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zver barreled through the ship, determined to make it back to Deleo before his frost-filled rage overtook him. Varlet, wise to his mood, hung back a bit further than usual, giving him the physical space he craved.
Only, he didn't want space. He wanted Seph to crowd and climb him. He wanted her wrapped about him like a creeper vine. He wanted her hair coiled about his fist and her brilliant brown eyes gazing up at him.
He was so lost in the notion of Seph's body entwined with his own that he almost plowed through the dainty figure before him.
Lady Arana.
He pulled up, not caring that his breath shot like a column of vapors from his nostrils. He didn't rein his temper. Arana knew him. She had experience with his rage.
"Why are you here?" he grated out. "The dart turrets—"
"I'm out of range, Zver," she said. Her eyes roved over him. "I'm here because you refused to come to Ahkera. You refused my requests to dock on Deleo. You can't refuse me on my own ship, Zver."
He forced himself to still, to fucking listen to the woman before him. If she'd come to toss him from Prykimis, he could be a gentleman and oblige her. He was leaving anyway. "What do you want, Arana?"
"To talk." Her eyes flicked to the fleetmen about them. The two sides were clearly delineated. House Conari faced House Borac.
He swore, signaled his men to hold, and stepped forward, breaking the invisible plane into Arana's domain. Historically, Borac and Conari never quarreled. He'd be damned if he'd let another house be at his back, like Jahat.
Arana smiled up at him, slipping her arm into his. She walked him further into the hangar, angling him toward the transports where there was a semblance of privacy.
"I've missed you, Zver," she said.
She clung to him, and the sensation irked him—so unlike the surge he felt when Seph touched him.
He said nothing.
She tsked as if she were indulging a taciturn child.
"We both know Ceran will be at a loss," she said, her voice sweet and baiting. "He could use guidance now that he's responsible for a spirenought."
Ceran. Arana's brother. Currently, he acted as the thane for House Conari until Arana either married or produced a technopathic heir.
"He'll manage," he said, gently extracting his arm from hers.
She reached for him again. "He'd manage better with you."
"If Ceran wants assistance—" He doubted that the man did, "have him contact me. I'll send along a team. Now, I must get Deleo underway. Fair travels, Arana."
She tightened her hold, pressing his arm to her bosom. "I trust you know me well, and that what I said the other day on Larimda, it wasn't meant for you."
His mind trudged through the sludge of her words. What had she said the other day on the TerTac cruiser?
"Remind me."
She smiled knowingly at his gruff command. "About courting. I am not courting anyone. I am waiting."
"Arana," he said in warning.
"Zver." She purred his name, and it had always grated on him. "You always seize. Don't you recognize a gift when you see one?"
His entire body chilled at her words. Gift. He spent years plotting for Prykimis. Set aside excessive funds and hunted down rare Athelasan components to repair her. Painstakingly tracked Jahat and his allies. His house spilled blood repelling marauders. And Arana wanted to gift him something that he had earned.
"Goodbye, Arana."
He turned on stiff legs, heading for his transport. Arana, a fluttering of silk, scurried to get in front of him.
"Zver! I—"
He sensed the movement and reacted on instinct. The dart turret positioned at the blast doors of the hangar swiveled toward them. It fired.
He cradled Arana in his arms as he fell, taking her to the deck with him, doing his best not to crush her before he blacked out.
&nbs
p; Seph stormed Prykimis's bridge, strode up to Command Console, and smacked Therion upside his head.
"Ouch, Seph! You can't hit me while I'm sitting in the Big Chair!"
"What the hell, Therion?" she said in a rage. "The ship shot him!"
"Knocked his big ass right out," Therion said, then flinched, ready to deflect another blow.
When he relaxed, she hit him again. "And you left him!"
"Dammit, Seph. I didn't leave him." Therion rubbed at his head. "Varlet dragged him back to Lekar. Already received an update. Zver's awake."
Seph frowned. "He won't Cune me back."
Therion patted her arm comfortingly. "Well, you did shoot him."
"I didn't shoot him." But she still felt chastised. "I think."
"I didn't want to leave him, Seph, but Commander Sobeck reissued the order once Lekar declared Zver stable."
She gave him a small smile. "I'm glad to hear you wanted to stay with him, Ther."
"Well, I didn't get a chance to laugh at him, did I? When Prykimis rampaged, even I managed to not get shot."
Seph just sighed and slumped against his chair. He turned his attention toward his console while continuing to give her shoulder comforting pats.
Seph looked woefully down at her WristCune, and then unseeingly at the passing stars displayed before her. "Do you think he thinks that I shot him?"
"Seph, I take great pride in the fact that I have no idea what my brother is thinking."
"What do you think? Was it me or the ship?"
"Gods, I hope it was you."
"Why?"
"Because maybe next time you'll let me watch."
"Next time." She scoffed at his foolishness.
"Oh, with you two, there will definitely be a next time."
Seph did her best to hide her blooming smile. "I didn't shoot him."
Therion turned back to his console. "Well, that's not what all the ship nerds are saying."
"You mean the engineers?"
"Yeah, them."
Seph laughed despite her heavy heart. Therion made her feel lighter.