Chapter Forty-Two
Someone shakes me awake. I blink, trying to reorient myself. I’m on my cot. It’s the middle of the night. And Tarik’s hovering above me.
“Master Kalen summons you,” he says.
“He does?” But, no. I’m so tired. “Why?”
“Don’t question your master. Come.”
I flop back over. “He can wait till morning.”
Tarik grabs my arm and drags me out of bed. “What’s wrong with you? Your master calls, you obey. Now go. Make yourself presentable and offer yourself up to him—and find that gods-damned key!”
Tarik’s meaning slowly takes form and fear carves out the pit of my stomach.
“Take wine with you,” Tarik orders. “It’ll be easier to scout his room when he’s passed out.”
Of course. One can never go wrong with wine.
“And don’t forget, Lark.” Tarik pauses before stepping out of the room, “Not a word.”
I grab a bottle of wine, then head up to Kalen’s room and tap on the door, butterflies taking wing in my stomach at the thought of seeing him.
“Come in.”
The door slides open, and I step in. Kalen is sitting at the edge of the bed, his chest exposed and the charcoal sheets wrapped messily around his bare waist. I can’t stop thinking about how perfectly wonderful his flawless body looks, bathed in the moonlight.
Now I’m awake.
Lifting my gaze to his, I catch a glimpse of the familiar torment behind his eyes, the haunted expression I see only in the rare moments when he thinks nobody’s looking.
He gestures for me to come in.
The door slides shut behind me, and I hand him the bottle of wine.
“What’s this for?” he asks.
“Might help you sleep.” Though, by his disheveled hair, he looks like he could pass out at any minute.
His lips tug into a grin and he arches a lazy brow. “Am I supposed to drink straight from the bottle, Larkling?”
Blazing stars. Forgot the glasses.
I notice a new ring on his middle finger, three woven silver strands with a white bead in the center. Odd designs are engraved on the bead.
“You look exhausted,” he says, smothering a yawn.
“It’s the twenty-seventh hour.”
“Is it?” He looks down at his chatband. “Oh, so it is.” He stands and walks to the dresser, where he pours the wine into a nearby glass. Muscles ripple across his back, and I briefly wonder what it would be like to plant a kiss on that hazelnut skin.
He pours another glass and offers it to me. I accept it.
“As you say on Earth, cheers.” He drains his glass, but I take only a small sip.
Setting his glass down, he studies me. “So tell me. What did the Renegade say about me joining them?”
My hand tightens around my glass, irritation sweeping through me at the memory of tonight. “They won’t let you join unless you step down from your company.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t do that. Not without—”
“I know. I told them everything. And some of the people trust you. But most can’t handle the thought of a slaver meeting among them.”
He sighs deeply, but nods. “I can understand that, I suppose.”
“There are…so many things I want to tell you, Kalen.” I glance at the door. I wouldn’t put it past Tarik to be standing there, listening in on our whole conversation. “But I’ve been sworn to secrecy.” I draw my eyes back to Kalen. “I trust you understand.”
Questions fill his eyes. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but changes his mind. “Keep your secrets, then.” He smiles sadly. “I would hate to put you in a position that could cause you harm.”
Relief comes over me. I set my wineglass down and hug him. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, stroking my hair. I lean my head against his chest, listen to his rapid heartbeat.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day, Lark.” His voice is suddenly thick with emotion. “About your passion, your courage, your strength despite all you’ve been through. And the way you challenge me to be a better person. Lark, I—” His voice breaks off and he pulls away, looks out the window, then back at me. “I don’t want you to leave.”
A breath escapes me, and I open my mouth—to say what, I’m not sure—but he lifts a finger, sparing me from having to come up with the words.
“I understand why you need to go.” He clears his throat. “I get it. Just…I wish there was another way.” He sighs heavily. “Will you stay with me tonight? We don’t have to do anything intimate. I just…need you with me.”
I realize by the agony in his voice, something else is going on. Something more than his need for my answer about the Renegade. “What’s wrong, Kalen?”
He hesitates. “I visited my mother’s grave this afternoon. I didn’t think it would affect my mood, but…I feel like the grief has resurfaced. I’m…wrecked.”
Now I understand. Why he was out so late. The torment in his eyes when I stepped through the doors, the haunted expression he tried so hard to cover up. I so get it now. My empathy opens up like a chasm, and my heart goes out to him.
“I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.” I crawl beneath the charcoal silk sheets. I forgot how incredibly inviting this bed is. How, unlike my hard cot, it forms to my body like a cloud. I could lay here forever. Kalen scoots behind me, drapes his arm around my waist, and a strange warmth consumes me. Weaving his fingers through my own, he pulls me close. With his body pressed against mine, I feel full. Ignited. Complete.
He buries his nose in my neck, sending delightful chills across my body. “This feels so right, Lark. You, here with me.” He presses his lips against my shoulder, his arms tightening around my waist in a vise-like grip. “I don’t ever want to let you go.”
And those words are my undoing. My resolve shatters into a thousand pieces and I fully relax. I wish this moment would last an eternity. I wouldn’t mind. This bed is so comfortable. The sheets brushing against my bare legs feel divine. Kalen’s close presence makes me feel safe.
“Tell me about her,” I say. “Tell me about your mother.”
He stiffens behind me, and I think maybe that was not the right thing to ask, but then he speaks.
“She was one of those people who thought hard about what she was going to say before she said it. So everything she said, you knew it was going to be important and valuable. She was gentle in disciplining us. Never struck us, but would always talk civilly to help us understand what we did wrong and how we should fix it. She was compassionate. Inviting. Warm. Her work at the Port was her passion, but she never put work above her family…the way Father does.”
He releases a shuddering sigh, then begins running his fingers up and down my arm. The gesture is soothing. I close my eyes and listen to him as he gives in to his need to talk about his mother. He tells me stories about his childhood, some of his last memories of her, everything.
Sleep tugs at me. I try hard to stay awake, but oblivion takes over. I drift back to reality briefly only to hear him say, “Sweet dreams, beloved.”
…
When I open my eyes again, Kalen is dead asleep. I crawl out of bed and tiptoe to Kalen’s nightstand. Time to find the ignition key. I scan the surface, search the drawers, then head to his dresser. If I can’t find the key in here, I’ll have to break into his study again. I sift through the drawers, then scan the surface.
I hear rustling sheets, and freeze. Slowly turning around, I release a breath of relief to find him still asleep. Breathe. I reach for the key to his study, and pause. Another marble-sized key has joined the dish with his office key. With trembling hands, I pick it up, and read the white inscription on the midnight-blue surface.
Starfinder.
Holy hell. There it is. Carefully setting it back in the dish, I sneak back into bed, my heart singing. I’ll grab the ignition key the day of the escape. We’ll snatch the navigation key from his office just before take-off. Tythoe will be thrilled to know that the Renegade has found everything they need for the escape.