Chapter 10
Zane wanted to crawl out of his skin.
The shuttle that had seemed perfectly adequate during their escape now felt so incredibly tiny.
Every breath brought Mercy's scent, and it called to his dragon like nothing else ever had.
Every shift of his weight reminded him of how she'd felt pressed against him, how perfectly she'd fit in his arms.
He sat in the cargo area, ostensibly checking their supplies but really just trying to put distance between them.
The kiss played on endless repeat in his mind.
The way she'd grabbed him, fierce and demanding.
The little sounds she'd made when he'd touched her.
The heat of her mouth and the silk of her skin and the way she'd responded like she was starving for it.
His mate. His brilliant, infuriating, impossible mate who looked at him now like a polite stranger.
Three days of this hell. Three days of careful distance and professional courtesy while his dragon raged against its chains. Three days of watching her pilot the shuttle with the same competence she'd shown flying her own ship, remembering how those clever hands had felt in his hair.
The nav computer chimed their approach to Tonus, and Zane forced himself to focus. The Saffron Court resort spread below them like a jewel against velvet, all golden lights and manicured gardens.
Even from orbit, he could see the careful artistry that went into maintaining the illusion of perfection.
"That's where we're going?" Mercy's voice held careful neutrality.
"It'll do."
He bit back a laugh at the irony. This was exactly the kind of place the dissolute failure of a third son would frequent.
Expensive enough to impress, seedy enough to find whatever vice you wanted, discreet enough to keep secrets.
He'd cultivated contacts here over the years, playing his role to perfection.
The landing pad materialized from seemingly empty desert, holographic camouflage dropping to reveal pristine metal and waiting staff. Mercy handled the approach with her usual skill, setting them down soft as silk.
"Nice flying."
She shrugged, already powering down systems. "It's what I do."
What she used to do. Before pirates destroyed her ship and kidnapped her for blood they thought held treasure maps. Before she'd saved his life by disabling those cuffs with nothing but a broken tool and steady hands.
They unfastened their seatbelts and moved to exit the ship.
Zane had met the security staff a time or two and recognized Myles Judd as he emerged from the resort's discreet entrance.
The man moved with the gait of someone accustomed to authority.
Silver threads at his temples caught in the light, and his weathered hands rested casually near the blaster at his hip.
Beside him, Mercy’s shoulders snapped straight, and her breath caught audibly.
"Judd?"
The man's head snapped up, eyes widening with recognition. "Merc?"
They stared at each other for one suspended moment. The desert wind whipped between them. Then Mercy launched herself down the ramp, and Judd caught her in a hug that lit something acidic and foreign in Zane's chest.
Something was wrong with him.
His vision sharpened to unnatural focus on Judd's hands spanning Mercy's back.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Heat built beneath his skin, threatening to manifest as flame if he didn't regain control.
His fingers curled into fists, knuckles whitening as he fought the urge to stride forward and separate them.
The unfamiliar sensation clawed at his ribs like a living thing, demanding action he couldn't name.
Was this some side effect of the neuro-cuffs? Some delayed reaction to the scrambling?
He followed more slowly, trying to identify this bizarre compulsion to separate them.
The man was clearly no threat. Just an old friend greeting someone he clearly knew.
There was no logical reason for Zane to want to step between them, to remind Judd exactly who had protected Mercy through days of captivity.
No reason at all for this bitter taste in his mouth as he watched them pull apart with matching grins.
His hand moved without conscious thought, reaching out to touch her, to mark his claim in some small way. He caught himself before making contact. His palm tingled with the phantom sensation of her skin, fingers flexing uselessly in the empty air.
She wasn't his. Not yet.
One desperate kiss didn't change that, no matter what his instincts screamed.
"How have you been?" Judd's gaze swept over the stolen cruiser with professional interest. His eyes lingered on the scorch marks along the hull. "Seems you've done well for yourself."
Mercy snorted. "That's a long story." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the bruise that darkened her cheekbone.
That was enough catching up.
"Do you think you can make that disappear quietly?" Zane kept his tone casual as he nodded towards the ship and didn't reach for credits—not that he had any on him. Judd knew payment would be forthcoming. That was how this worked.
Judd blew out a breath through his teeth. "It's a bit beautiful to go to waste." His fingers traced the shuttle's sleek lines.
"I stripped out the nav tracker," Mercy said, "but there's no telling what else Horris put in there. If you're not opposed to a bunch of pirates chasing you down, it's yours."
"You do live an interesting life." Judd's weathered face creased with amusement.
"Do you have someplace for us to stay?" Zane wanted to be gone. Fast.
"Alma's got you covered." He nodded toward a Kellian woman in a Saffron Court uniform waiting by the entrance.
They followed the woman through corridors that managed to be both opulent and discrete.
Soft carpeting muffled their footsteps, and the walls displayed slowly shifting holographic art that responded to their movement with subtle color changes.
The air smelled of expensive flowers, nothing like the recycled atmosphere they'd been breathing for days.
Zane barely noticed the decor, but Mercy's head swiveled constantly, taking in the gilt fixtures and hovering light sculptures.
"Nice place," she said.
He shrugged. "I can show you nicer."
She gave him a strange look he couldn't quite interpret.
Alma stopped at a door that looked identical to all the others, pressing her palm to the scanner. The lock disengaged with a soft musical chime, and the door slid open. Behind it was a suite decorated in warm golds and deep reds.
Rich fabrics draped the windows, and plush furniture arranged around a central sitting area invited relaxation.
Fresh flowers filled crystal vases, their perfume mixing with the subtle scent of expensive soaps from the bathing chamber.
By Saffron Court standards, it was modest. By any other measure, it was luxurious.
"If you need anything, please let us know. As requested, we've provided clothing and other essentials." Alma gestured toward packages arranged on the bedroom's expansive bed, each wrapped in the resort's signature golden fabric.
"Thank you."
She departed with respectful silence, leaving them alone in sudden quiet. Mercy walked through the space like she was cataloging exits and defensive positions.
Then, as if someone had cut her strings, she collapsed onto a chaise lounge. The fine fabric molded around her frame, and for the first time in days, her shoulders dropped from their defensive hunch.
"I know we have to make plans and stuff, but give me a few minutes," she muttered, face smooshed against fine fabric.
Zane took a chair across from her, indulging in the simple pleasure of watching her exist. Even exhausted, even bruised and burned, she commanded the space around her.
She pushed herself into something that was almost a sitting position. "Do you think I can stay the night before I leave?"
The words hit him like cold water. "What?"
Leave? She wanted to leave? They’d just gotten there.
"Is there something wrong here?"
"We're safe. You have to get to Ofros or whatever. I have to …" She seemed to shrink into herself, shoulders curling inward as reality crashed back. Her ship was gone. Her livelihood destroyed. Everything she'd built torn away in a matter of days.
"I'm not going to Ofros." The words came out too sharp, too revealing. He forced himself to relax, to play the careless lord who changed plans on a whim.
She was shaking her head. "You can get transport here; it'll be fine. If I can access my accounts, I can get … somewhere. Probably I'll need to work on someone's crew and …" She blew out a breath. "Never mind. You don't care."
Each word was a knife between his ribs. After everything they'd survived together? After she'd risked her life to free him from those cuffs, she thought he didn’t care?
Remaining calm was getting harder by the second. "We just got here. You don't need to run away so soon."
She gestured at their surroundings. "I can't exactly afford to pay for this room."
"I can."
Her spine straightened, pride flaring in those green eyes. "I took your money for a job I couldn't deliver on, and I can't even give that back. I can't be more in your debt."
"It's not about debt." He leaned forward, willing her to understand. "We both survived. That's what matters."
But he could see her walls solidifying, turning their shared experience into a business transaction gone wrong. His dragon raged against the chains of propriety. He wanted to pull her into his arms and explain exactly who she was to him. Wanted to kiss her until she stopped talking about leaving.
He had a feeling that would make her run away faster.
Instead, he stayed in his chair and scrambled for the right words. "I didn't ever actually want to go to Ofros."
"What?" She turned to face him fully, curiosity momentarily overriding her defensive posture.
"My family wanted me to meet some lady the Royal Matchmaker set me up with.
" The irony of it nearly choked him. Shade had worked so hard to find him suitable matches, never knowing his mate was flying cargo runs in the outer systems. "I was planning to arrive as my most disreputable self in the hopes that she'd take one look at me and run away. "
Mercy stared at him for several beats. Then, unexpectedly, she burst out laughing. The sound filled the suite, bright and genuine and everything he'd been missing since their kiss.
Her eyes tracked over him, slow and considering. "I don't think that would work."
"Why not? It was a brilliant plan!"
The sweep of her gaze felt almost physical, raising heat wherever it lingered.
She took in his rumpled clothes, his smoke-darkened hair, the way he filled the delicate chair with barely restrained power.
Heat followed in the wake of that gaze, and he had to grip the chair arms to keep from reaching for her.
"I don't think it would be enough to scare away a determined lady."
The moment stretched between them, charged with possibility. He could see her wavering, walls trembling just slightly. Then her expression shuttered, and she looked away. He felt the distance reassert itself like a slap.
Mercy stood abruptly. "I'm going to go wash all this stink off. We can figure out … whatever … later."
He watched her disappear into the bathing chamber, heard the door lock engage with quiet finality. His carefully laid plans, such as they were, crumbled to ash.
He'd thought once they were safe, once they had time, he could find the right way to explain. Could ease her into the truth about … everything.
But she was already planning her escape. Already rebuilding her life without him in it.
He had to find another way. Had to make her see that what sparked between them was more than adrenaline and proximity. Had to convince her to stay long enough to discover what they could be together.
His dragon rumbled with determination. She was his mate. That was immutable, written in fire and blood and the way she'd commanded his flame. But she was also an independent human pilot who'd survived on her own terms.
He just had to figure out how to make her stay.