69. CHAPTER 69
Miya
The Territories
The Palace, Caspador
Miya sat cross-legged on the purple rug in her old room at the palace and twisted the loose threads between her thumb and finger as she had as a kid.
Her father had left the room the same way she had it decorated as a teenager.
The oversized bed with a canopy and lavender bedding, her favorite color back then, belonged to someone she didn't recognize anymore.
Her closet, which was the size of most people's bedrooms, still had all her old dresses hanging there.
It was a strange, dusty museum of her past, full of comfortable blankets, reclining couches, and all the instruments her mom taught her how to play.
A piano in the corner, her violins beside it, a harp on the far side of the room, and the guitar she'd loved so much.
Where did she fit into this world? Definitely not in this room.
Miya looked up to see Lance already looking at her.
They’d hardly seen each other over the week they had stayed in hiding at the United’s base, giving enough time for a team to investigate the two of them.
To know for certain that Miya was who she said she was and to make preparations with her father. Enough time for them to heal a bit.
The bruising along both sides of Lance’s face faded to yellow, and the cuts to the reddish-pink of new scars. She’d heard it would be another few weeks for his ribs not to hurt so badly and more after that to fully heal. Her own hurt just thinking about it.
Her burns had been mild, fortunately, and her knee was only bruised. The smoke inhalation had been the worst. She still struggled with her cough.
“You really feel okay?” Miya asked.
“Yeah.” Lance smiled, looking tired. “You?”
“Fine. None of it feels real.”
“Anything new about the captain?”
She ripped a thread loose. “He’s in United custody still.
Ciondo won’t fight for his release after word got out about him killing his men.
And he looks like he’s straight out of a horror story now.
I saw a picture.” The melted plastic on his face required surgery to remove, and a skin graft stretched over his eyelid, nose, and left cheek.
Burns mottled his hands, neck, and head.
“They don't know if he'll survive. A lot of burn victims don't make it.”
Miya had to let everything go. She felt like she sat in a glass display case. A strange mystery the world would study for ages, trying to understand how she’d become this person and why she chose to stay at Rafferty when she could have gone back home.
She looked down at her black gloves that cut off at the knuckles below her mark.
The United had salvaged everything she’d owned from Rafferty after rounding up the boss and Aiden and the other men that she’d like to forget existed.
She wore her hair in a messy bun piled on top of her head without make-up or jewelry, always a treat after a job that required looking her best all the time.
Everything she owned belonged to the lives she'd left behind, and she didn't know who she'd need to become next to survive this palace and the war.
Miya chewed the inside of her cheek. “The Phaedra has taken the north, and the United is struggling to hold them back. I've made everything worse.”
“You tried to stop them from doing something horrible to your family and kingdom. It was only one battle in a much bigger war, but you won it.”
She bit her lip. What about the next battle? “I’m just nervous about today. It's making me feel hopeless.”
“Have you thought of what you’ll say?”
She tugged at the twisted carpet in her hand. “A little. Do you really think I can do this?”
“I have no doubt.”
“I won’t go back to being a decoration in my father’s house.”
“Good.”
Though Miya told Lance about running away from the palace and everything that happened with the captain, there was so much he still didn't know.
He didn't ask or pressure her, but he was always ready to listen, and it felt like he knew without actually knowing.
“No one will understand why I didn't come home.”
“They don't get to judge you for that.”
“They will. If I didn't judge myself, it wouldn't bother me.”
“I don't judge you.” He leaned against his knees. “One day you won't either.”
Miya smiled because she believed him, even though she never told him why she didn't come back. He trusted her reasons without having to hear the justifications. That was the kind of support that would help her navigate this new world.
“You'll never ask me, will you?” Miya held his eyes. “You're too kind.”
“No, I'm never going to ask you, and you never have to tell me unless you want to.”
Her chest ached at his sincerity. “If I ever tell anyone, it'll be you.”
Lance gave a sad smile. “What you did is heroic. You saved me, and somehow you saved yourself when you had nothing. You do not deserve any judgment or blame, not from yourself or anyone else.”
“But I do judge myself. Look at all this.” She looked around the room. “I should have lived a completely different life. And still, I just want to run. It's scary coming back. How can I hide from myself when the whole world sees what I am?”
Lance reached for her, fingers just grazing her arm when he lowered his hand. “I can’t make it better, can I?”
“You already have, but you can’t take it away.
I have to walk through this.” Back when the captain held them captive, she had no idea if they’d escape.
Watching him hurt Lance tore her heart to pieces.
She ached thinking about his injuries. “I’m so sorry you got hurt, and that I didn’t tell you anything. ”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“I could apologize for being such a bitch to you.”
He wore that grin of his. “Oh, but I like that.”
“Stop flirting. It's cheesy.”
“Which, you like.”
A groan. She pushed herself to her feet and walked to her closet to get dressed.
“Miya.”
She turned.
He gazed at her, standing now, his smile soft. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”
Her heart stopped at how casually he said it.
“Don’t respond,” Lance said. “Just know.”
His words twisted and turned in her mind, stirring the panic, but also a warmth in her chest. That someone so good could love her. Rounding the couch, she neared him once more. “I know.” She met his eyes. “I need time to figure myself out.”
Lance shrugged. “I don’t need anything more. I’m okay.”
“No,” she said. “I want you to know. You matter to me, so much. I didn't know my heart was capable of that anymore. It's terrifying and wonderful.”
“Love always is.”
Her heart stormed within her. “I can't promise you anything. I've got so much to figure out. I don't even know where to start.” She settled her hand on his chest, pain tightening her stomach. “But I need you.”
“You have me,” he said, clutching her hand against him. “Whatever happens, that'll never change.”
The want lit his eyes, so much deeper than the night on the roof when Miya tried to entice him to kiss her. He’d never act on it, not without her invitation, and for the first time since she left the palace, she truly felt at ease with a man.
Her eyes burned.
Miya had never kissed anyone she trusted, and yet she’d kissed so many people.
Curiosity churned in her. Maybe it was all they’d been through, or the way he looked at her, or the memory of his thumb on her lip, but it was all she could think about.
It might be nothing more than her wanting to know what love felt like, but it was there. Heavy and undeniable.
“At least once,” Miya whispered, sliding her hand up his chest to his thick neck. “I want to see your move at least once.”
He didn’t speak or move. Didn’t look like he breathed. Miya rose onto her toes, her lips pressing against his whiskered cheek in a gentle peck, arms drawing around his shoulders.
Nose brushing his.
His big hand smoothed along her cheek and cradled her face. He peered deeply into her eyes, his question so genuine. “Do you want me to kiss you, Miya?”
Her heart fluttered at his deep voice. “Yes.”
Eyes scoured her face. “You want me to bury my tongue in your mouth?”
Her breath caught, and she nodded when his soft gaze settled on her lips, too surprised to speak.
“And my hands.” His thumb slipped to her bottom lip, gaze following, while he drew it across her sensitive skin, torturously slow. “Where should I touch you?”
“What the fuck, Lance.” Miya smoothed his hand against her waist. “This is your move?”
He smirked, pressed into the little indentation beneath her mouth, and parted her lips. “This? All this I've been doing for weeks?” Lance tugged her against himself by the small of her back, lips close. “Yeah, that's my move.”
He chuckled against her mouth, and she giggled.
“You ruined it,” she whispered. “You were doing so well. So incredibly well.”
“Mmm, I think it's just what you were hoping for.” They were both still chuckling quietly when Lance's tongue slipped into her mouth and wandered all the way down hers, lips melting against hers. It stripped the breath from her lungs.
He kissed her so gently and purposefully.
Heat burned in a wave up her belly to her chest.
She sank into his arms.
No need to hold herself up. To hold herself back. Not for this one kiss.
He pulled back, and she pursued, disappointed to be done so quickly, when she saw his stare roving over her face.
Awe quieted him, eyes so full of admiration that he made her feel like a work of art.
He took his time looking into her eyes, down her face, at her lips. Gaze drinking up her hair and her neck.
The way he looked at her was so full of love that it looked like it hurt. “Miya…” He tilted her head back, eyes raking down her again before he sucked her bottom lip. “You're incredible.”
A deep sigh wilted her body, and she dragged herself up on his shoulders, arms tight around his neck. Now she kissed him. A deep, wanting kiss that left him breathing hard.
Her body arched against his, wanting to be closer for this one kiss.
They lost themselves to one another.