“Of course,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. “I’m on the bridge but I can meet you down there.”
“How about the galley?” he suggested. “It has seats.”
“All right.” Her heart shouldn’t be beating so fast and why did it feel long to reach the galley, and even longer for John to get there? She tried to find a neutral place inside, hoping that would help with her expression. It didn’t feel like it helped when his tall, strong body came into view. She eyed him hungrily, soaking it up for when she didn’t see him anymore. It hadn’t been that long since they’d parted, but it felt longer than her captivity. She’d…missed him. She hated to admit it. She was just the person who had invaded his quarters, let a frog jump on his chest, and brought him to this place where he’d almost been killed.
It didn’t seem likely that he would miss her.
She wrote stories, so she knew the difference between hopes and reality. She wrote happy endings because people had needed them, they’d needed the light in the darkness, but—her mind hesitantly approached the word—love in real life was different. Indeed, at this moment she was acutely aware of the gap between her fiction and this reality.
Did she even know what she felt for John was…that? Her listeners and readers had loved her stories because it took them away from the real world. She’d lived her stories so completely, she’d been easy to fool, she decided with some scorn. It was interesting Odon hadn’t changed her name, at least not completely. No, he’d just erased her last name, the one that connected her to her parents.’
Naxe Ghelfi, daughter of Bedwyr and Taran Ghelfi.
Remembering had helped so much, but it hadn’t healed all the gaps yet.
She clasped her hands together and watched him navigate the narrow corridor toward her. When he saw her, he smiled and lifted his hand in greeting. Her voice caught in her throat and for several seconds, she couldn’t speak. She lifted her hand, too, then found her voice.
“Hello,” she said, the greeting she’d heard his people use.
He stopped in the hatchway and she forgot words, perhaps stopped thinking, too. She stared and it seemed he stared, too. Then the ship began a process that jolted her into action.
“Please, sit. Can I offer you anything to drink?” The question brought back their first meeting in his quarters. He’d been disheveled, his hair tumbled and a shadow of beard on his face. Now he looked tired, but less tense somehow. Of course, he wasn’t alone here anymore. His people had arrived. His people. She sighed and half turned so he couldn’t see her face until she got it back under control. And her thoughts. She needed to get them under control, too.
“Just some water would be nice,” he said. He waited near the small table until she’d secured two containers and sank down before he took the seat across from her.
Their knees brushed together, their feet side-by-side. She drank some water, then set it on the tabletop, her fingers loosely clasping it. It helped to have it. It kept her from reaching out to touch him.
He drank, too, then lowered the container, but he didn’t hold onto it. Instead, he spread his fingers on the top, one finger lightly tapping the surface.
He shifted in his seat, rubbing their knees more intimately together before he stopped himself. He glanced around. “Did you ever find out what Odon did with the cargo you brought here?”
“Blooban found transactions in his data. He sold it.” It was hard to speak of. She’d risked her life at times for those supplies. To prove what? He wouldn’t know a story if it bit him on—she stopped, stifling a giggle. In the end his story had bit him on the rear. “He sold it to buy bugs, I suppose.”
“It got what it deserved in the end,” John said with satisfaction. “I don’t suppose there is video?”
Now Naxe chuckled feeling her insides relax some. “I’ll ask Blooban to check.” It would be like Odon to have recorded it all to gloat over later.
The galley felt smaller than she remembered but he had broad shoulders and he was very tall. She didn’t feel oppressed by his size, though. She liked that some part of them touched as they said this last goodbye. That must be why he was here. The silence felt long, but everything felt long right now, and it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“Do you know what you’re going to do now?” He shifted so that his forearms rested on the table edge, one hand clasping the water container, the other laying close enough to almost touch her hand. If she moved it a very small bit….
Naxe’s gaze dropped to her own hands. “Riina offered me a place on her outpost,” she admitted.
“What about,” for some reason, it seemed as if John had a hard time saying his name, “Blooban?”
“We haven’t talked about it yet,” she admitted.
“You’re both, I hope you know, you’re both welcome on Kikk.”
She looked up, emotion catching in her throat. “That’s very kind.”
His lips twisted some. “It’s not kind, it’s…” He looked up and it felt as if his gaze grabbed hers and held it… “it would be nice. I would like it.” Something warmed his gaze and he half smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” He gestured vaguely with his hand.
Done what? Naxe blinked, afraid to hope.
“I would like to spend more time with you. Get to know the person you really are.”
She flinched. “I’m not sure I know who I am.”
He glanced away, then back. “I didn’t, that didn’t come out right. I liked you. I like you.”
For the first time he didn’t seem the confident general of people and ships, or even the man who’d stood with her in the fake forest facing Odon. He looked like, well, a man, she decided. She’d written about this, had written this scene so often, it felt as if she recognized it, not with scorn, but with hope. It was, she realized, this hope she’d found and brought with her from Kikk where she’d met John for the first time. It had revolved around John, but it had been more.
Her hands inched closer to his and he took the hint, his closing, warm and strong, around hers.
“I would like that very much,” she said a smile trembling on her mouth.
His hands gripped hers and he smiled. This smile was not like the others she’d seen on his face. This one was bright as the stars she’d navigated her ship by.
“If this were one of my tales,” she said, feeling the old power of words, but also something new rising within her, “there would be a—”
Before she could finish, John—with an action that was both general-like and not—rose, and pulled her up from her seat. His arms closed around her and his mouth settled over hers. As dreamy warmth stole coherence from her thoughts, she had a brief time to note with satisfaction that she’d written the scene better than she’d realized…
About the Author
Award-winning, USA Today Bestselling author Pauline never liked reality, so she writes books. She likes to wander among the genres, rampaging like Godzilla, because she does love peril mixed in her romance.
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