Microsoft Word - Blind_Space-Marie_Sexton.doc (18 page)

At the airlock, we found Janus. Her eyes were red,

and she hugged her arms around herself as she faced us.

The men stopped short, and I was surprised to see the women of the group push their way to the front. There were five of them total. They stood side by side, each of them with their arms crossed, glaring at her.

"Let me come with you," she said.

"Absolutely not," said the woman who looked most like the male pirates. She had a bright blue spiked mohawk and piercings in her ears, nose, lip, and eyebrow. "You sold us out."

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The other women nodded, and Janus' bottom lip

started to quiver.

"She's the one who let me know to watch for you,"

Jerald said. "If it weren't for her, you'd still be standing back at that dock, waiting for those guards to notice."

Sal was the first to waver. "She made a mistake,"

she said to the other women. "But she's one of us."

"How do we know she won't 'make a mistake' and sell us out again?" Dani said.

"We don't!" the girl with the mohawk said. "We don't harbor traitors."

Janus put her shoulders back, although her voice

still shook when she spoke. "You're not the captain," she said.

She looked hopefully at Yima.

Yima looked at Valero.

Valero looked resigned, but it was clear they all had roles, and this one was his. He walked up to her. He put his arm around her shoulder and turned her away from the airlock door, talking to her quietly. Jerald opened the airlock, and the men all filed in.

I waited for Valero. In the end, I had no idea what was said between them, but Janus hugged him. "Thank you!" she said. "Thank you so much."

"Don't thank me," he said. "But don't you dare make

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me regret it, either."

She didn't look at me as she boarded the ship, and

then it was just Valero and me, standing alone in the airlock.

"One more devotee?" I asked him.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Sometimes a second chance is all a person needs."

A second chance. I felt like that's what he'd given me, too.

He looked up at me, his hazel eyes full of affection.

It was our first moment alone since before he'd been captured, and I wanted more than anything for him to touch me, or kiss me, but before we could even say a word, Jerald called out, "What the fuck is the hold-up down there? Are we taking off or not?"

* * * *

We'd been crowded with eleven men on board

Jerald's tiny ship. Now there were nearly forty of us. Still, it got us where we needed to go. We were still in the blind space, and after a couple of tense hours, checking every few seconds for anybody on our tail, we all breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed we'd made it.

"What now?" I asked Jerald and Yima.

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"First thing we have to do is ditch this ship," Jerald said. "They'll have alerts out on it by morning." He looked at Yima. "You have enough money to buy a ship on your own?"

Yima shrugged. "Once my men pool what they

have, we might," he said. "Why? You making an offer?"

"We can sell this one, and I'll go in with you."

"What's the catch?" Yima asked.

"I'm the captain of my own ship," he said.

Yima grinned at him. "I'm captain of the men."

Behind me, somebody cleared their throat. I turned

to find Pierce behind me. Two more of the men I'd come to recognize as Valero's crew were behind him. I looked around and realized Valero himself wasn't there. I wasn't sure when he'd slipped out, or where he'd gone.

"You're not captain of
all
the men," Pierce said.

"We have our own captain."

Yima shrugged. He looked back at Jerald. "Does that work for you?"

"Good enough," Jerald said, and held his hand out to Yima to shake on it.

"Wait a minute," I said. "You can't have three captains on one ship!"

Yima grinned at me. "This ain't your militia, boy.

We're pirates. We can do whatever we damn well please."

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"What about you?" Pierce asked me. "You're a captain, too. I guess that makes four."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I think three captains is plenty."

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For being such a small ship, it was surprisingly

difficult to find Valero. I finally stopped in front of the door to what had once been my cabin. It was being guarded by one of his men—the one with the gold teeth.

"Is he in there?" I asked.

He eyed me up and down. He didn't exactly look

friendly, but he stood aside. "He said nobody but you."

Before I could open the door, he held a hand up, pointing his finger in my face. "Don't you dare let him down," he said. "I'll skin you alive, and I ain't kidding."

"I won't," I said, and I meant it.

* * * *

He was sitting on the bed with his elbows on his

knees and his head in his hands. He glanced over at me when I entered, and I could see the grief in his eyes, although he quickly looked away.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked.

It took him a long time to answer. "No," he said at last. "I don't want you to see me like this, but I don't want you to leave, either."

I sat down next to him. I waited for him to speak,

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but I soon realized I'd be waiting forever if I didn't push him. "Talk to me," I said.

He shook his head. "It feels wrong," he said. "I don't want you to think…"

His words trailed away. His head was still in his

hands. I couldn't see his face, and I realized how adept I'd become at interpreting the nuances of his voice. "It's about Stanton," I said. His breath caught, and he seemed to curl in on himself. I put my hand on his shoulder, and although he flinched, he didn't pull away. "You can tell me anything," I said.

It took him a minute, but finally he dropped his

hands. He still didn't look at me, but he sat up a bit straighter. He put his shoulders back. "Everything I had was on Yima's ship," he said.

"You mean, everything you had of him?"

He nodded. "There wasn't much, but I had things he'd given me. I had his picture." He wiped his eyes, but kept his hand covering them. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse. "It's not fair to you—"

"I don't expect you to suddenly forget he ever existed," I said. I reached up and pulled the collar of his shirt away from his neck. I touched the thick scar at the top of his shoulder. "He's still with you."

He laughed. It wasn't exactly a happy laugh, but he

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actually turned to look at me. It was only a moment, and then he turned away again, looking down at his hands, but I was glad to see he was still smiling.

"You're like him, in some ways," he said. "Not everything. He was loud, and he liked to drink. He liked to piss people off. He hated following orders." He laughed again, shaking his head. "They would've kicked him out of the military if we hadn't been so hard up for men." He looked over at me. "The way you fought when we captured you, though? He would have done that." His smile faded.

"You're too much like him, in that regard," he said. He shook his head again. "You scared me tonight, Tristan."

"When?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

He turned toward me—not just his face, but his

entire body. He reached out and hooked one hand behind my neck. He pulled me closer, forcing me to look in his eyes.

"From now on, whether we run, or whether we

fight, we do it together," he said. "Don't ever ask me to leave you behind again. Not
ever
. Because I won't do it."

How could I have not made a connection between

asking him to leave me, and what Stanton had done? No wonder he'd seemed so upset.

I smiled as I moved closer. I straddled his legs so I was sitting in his lap. I put my arms around his neck. "I

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won't," I said.

His eyes softened. There was still grief there, but there was relief too. And affection. "If you end up leaving me, that's one thing. But I can't have another death on my conscience. Especially not yours."

"Neither of those things is going to happen," I said as I leaned forward and brushed his lips with mine. "I'm not going anywhere." I unbuttoned his shirt as I kissed him. I pushed it off his broad shoulders. "You might be stuck with me."

He laughed as he put his arms around me. "Gods, I hope so."

There was no more talking after that. We undressed

each other. I wanted to look at every inch of him. He laughed at me for it, but in all the time we'd spent together, I'd never been able to see him. I loved the contrast of black hair against the brown skin of his legs and arms. I loved the way his hazel eyes flashed when he laughed. I followed the tattoo over his shoulder. The iridescent dragon clung to his back. Its claws seemed to pierce the skin. Drops of blood ran down his dark flesh. Its tail went down, over the right side of his ass. It wrapped around his right thigh, ending just above his knee. I wanted to memorize each and every line.

I pushed him back onto the bed. Usually when we

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made love, he led the way, but this time he lay panting and complacent underneath me as I explored. His thighs were thick and muscular, lightly covered with black hair. The skin on his cock and scrotum was even darker than the rest of him, and the ring piercing his tip was gold. The hair between his navel and groin was even sexier than I'd dreamed. I climbed back up the length of his body, past the shimmering dragon on his chest to kiss him. I wrapped my hand around both of our erect shafts. He put one of his hands on top of mine, and we began to stroke together.

It was perfect. In some ways, it was just as it had been before the Regency had given me back my sight. I knew the way he gripped the back of my head as we kissed, holding me in place. I knew his breath and the taste of his mouth and the feel of his bare flesh against mine. I knew the soft, throaty sounds he made and the low, whispered words in my ear. I knew the way he gasped and tensed just before he came. But now that I could see him, it was even better. I loved the way he parted his soft, full lips when he moaned. I loved the way his crazy bright hair spread out on the pillow beneath his head and the way his long dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks. I loved the bright dragon guarding his heart and the way the muscles in his arms bunched and strained as he held me tight.

More than anything, I loved what I saw in his eyes

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when he looked at me.

I couldn't say afterward how much noise we made,

but when we emerged back into the hallway, the man

standing guard couldn't quite seem to look us in the eye.

We found most of the crew crammed into the tiny

space that served as a kitchen. They were passing around a bottle, and as soon as we entered, they cheered.

"Drink some of this!" Pierce said, shoving a jug into my hands.

"I don't really drink—" I started to say, but Valero clapped me on the back, cutting off my words.

"You're going to want it," he said. There was mischief in his eyes. "Trust me. Take a big drink."

Whatever was going on, I knew when I was beat. I

tipped the jug back, intending to take only a small swallow.

It was rough, grain alcohol. It burned my throat. Before I could put it down, Pierce put his hand under the end of the jug, tipping it up, spilling some down my chin, and more into my mouth. I managed to swallow it all before I started coughing. They laughed at me, and a few of them pounded me on the back as I coughed.

"Want any more?" Pierce asked. His eyes were green, contrasting sharply with his bright red mohawk, and there was mischief in them as well.

"No," I said. "That's enough."

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"All right," he said. He took the jug from my hand and passed it to Valero. Valero wouldn't look at me. He was smiling, his cheeks red, but I noticed he wouldn't meet my eye. He backed up a step.

I was starting to get suspicious.

"What's going on?" I asked.

That was when they jumped me.

My instinct to fight only lasted a second. They

obviously weren't out to hurt me. Not too much, anyway.

They were laughing as they hauled me to the table.

Whatever was on it was swept onto the floor. They pinned me down, a man on each of my arms, and two on each leg.

Valero climbed on top of me, sitting across my hips. He grinned down at me. His wild hair stuck out in all

directions. The dark liner around his eyes might have made him look menacing, but there was no malice in his eyes.

Only a challenge and a great deal of laughter.

"Trust me," he said. And I did. I'd been through enough hazing in the military to know the best thing I could do was hold still and do my best to act like whatever they did to me didn't hurt.

They shaved the sides of my head, laughing as they

did, the right side first, then the left. When they were done, Valero leaned down to look in my eyes.