Morningstar (6 page)

Jace wasn’t confident that he could win a duel against Soth, because in addition to the size advantage, Soth was older and more experienced. Jace paced the hallway for several irritated minutes, plotting strategies for defeating Soth, before the door opened again. Much to his shock, Soth staggered out, holding a bleeding, broken nose and cursing in Cy’reni.

“She
beat
you?” Jace’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Damn House Wintersend and every idiot in it,” Soth snapped. “Your turn.”

“You can’t go to the med bay for that. It’s off limits,” Jace reminded, sending the other Cy’ren into a new chorus of expletives.

Frowning at the door, Jace scrambled to think of plausible ways that Bryn could have bested Commander Soth, but in his amazement most of the ideas that came to mind involved luck or sorcery. Jace didn’t believe in either. Squaring his shoulders, he reentered the room and locked the door behind him.

Lieutenant Viera stood in the center of the armory, calmly checking the edge of her blade. A trickle of blood went ignored as it slid down the side of her neck from a scratch at her throat. The enticing scents of blood and phase pheromones mixed in the air and Jace growled low. How was he supposed to fight when he couldn’t think straight?

“Ready?” Bryn set her stance and raised her blade.

Jace drew his sword. “What are your victory conditions?”

“You yield or I knock you unconscious. Or I kill you, though I’d rather not. I don’t think Captain Hawke would appreciate that.”

“She might. She threatens it often enough.”

“So you have a problem with women in authority?”

“No.” Jace slowly circled right, and she moved left, matching him step for step. “I have a problem with authority.”

He lunged, and she parried and came at him. His eyes widened as she rained a flurry of blows that drove him back—she was strong and damn fast. That must have been where Soth went wrong. Soth probably assumed he could overpower her, and she struck at him with the speed of a viper. Thankfully Jace was also fast, and he defended himself before going on an offensive of his own. He had to be fast to compete among his brethren, as the other shadow swords tended to be broader and burlier, like Soth. Most of them were born to fight for their house, but Jace had been born to lead it.

Bryn hissed as his blade sliced through the sleeve of her coverall, and she retaliated with a kick to his shin that staggered him. Off-balanced, he fell flat on his back as she connected with another kick, and she leapt on him and pinned him to the floor.

“Did you buy that pretty sword of yours? Doesn’t seem like you earned it,” Bryn taunted.

With a snarl he threw her off and she rolled away. He lunged when they were both on their feet again and pressed her back. Her footwork was good and her reflexes were excellent, but she began to tire. Jace was a shadow sword in top fighting form, and judging by the marks on her throat, Bryn had spent her recent time as a slave.

Finally she faltered, and he took advantage of the opportunity. Jace swept her feet out from under her, and she dropped her sword and it skittered away. Bryn dove after it, but before she reached it Jace grabbed her hair with his free hand and pulled her to her feet, holding her against him.

“Easy, baby. Hair pulling will cost you extra,” she warned.

He bared her neck, intending to sink his teeth into her skin. Cy’ren always went for the throat, in battle and in sex. The instinct to bite her overwhelmed him, but she whipped her head back and it slammed into his.

Jace yelped as pain exploded through his skull like a stun grenade. Bryn jabbed a sharp elbow in his ribs, and he released her. Blood trickled down his chin and he raised his hands to find the source—had she broken his nose? This time she swept his feet out from under him and pinned him to the floor of the armory.

“Pathetic, Morningstar. This is the flagship of the resistance? No wonder we haven’t made any progress.”

He struggled to free himself, but she’d wrenched his arm behind his back and his shoulder joint popped in warning.

“Do you yield?” she asked.

“No,” he growled in reply. His thoughts raced as he scrambled to find a reason that would convince Bryn to yield. Normally Jace was adept at reading people in a negotiation, but his self-control had been shattered by pain, blood and lust. He didn’t know what she wanted aside from Sabine.

Sabine
. All she wanted was Sabine. That was his in.

Bryn snorted. “You’d rather I knock your head against the floor?”

“If you want to stay with her, yield to me. There’s no guarantee any other male will agree to take you both, not with your condition. They will simply take her from you. I won’t. I’ll make sure you stay together. I will respect and honor your relationship, and both of you. You have my word.”

For a long moment she was silent. Jace tensed in anticipation of having his head banged against the floor as promised, but she remained still. Sweat and blood slicked his face and dripped onto the deck. His arm ached, but the pain was nothing compared to the damned lust caused by the phase pheromones.

“I want full rights. No bullshit conditions because I can’t breed,” she said.

“I can’t grant you full rights.”

“Sure you can, you’re the second son. I’m sure you always get what you want.” She twisted his arm, and Jace hissed and howled in pain.

“I can’t guarantee that. But I will try, I swear.”

“Good enough. For now. I yield.”

She stepped away and let him up. Jace stumbled to his feet and rubbed feeling back into his numbed arm. His father would skin him alive for asking to grant full mate rights to a barren female, but the thought faded at the blissful, primal realization that the females were his.
His mates.
Jace and Bryn glared at each other for a tense moment, and then he pounced and covered her mouth with a possessive kiss. Bryn was his, and he was consumed by the instinct to mark her.

Bryn tensed, but he moved to her throat and he bit her. Jace drank deep as though dying of thirst, her fiery taste scorching his veins. She stilled and then shuddered, relaxing against him with a low moan. Jace inhaled—under the sweat, blood and smoke she smelled faintly of soap, and of Sabine.

“You’re covered in her scent,” he murmured.

“Because she’s mine.” Her voice had dropped to a husky purr—a vast improvement over her angry snarls.

“Ours,” he corrected.
Mine.
They both were his.

Her breath came in quick, shallow pants as she studied him from beneath her lashes. With a wicked grin, she licked the blood from his chin, and then she kissed him in return. Shared Cy’ren blood was a powerful aphrodisiac, and the taste mingled on their tongues.

“Strip.” Bryn unbuckled her belt and set it aside, and Jace frowned, certain he had heard incorrectly.

“What?”

“Get naked, Morningstar. I’m not letting you near Sabine when you’re this riled. You’ll hurt her, she’ll let you, and then I’ll have to kill you. Seems a bad way to start our relationship. So strip.”

Bryn walked away and sat on a bench to remove her boots as Jace blinked at her. The bluntness of her words stunned him for a moment, overriding the lust that fogged his brain.

“Now? Here?” Dueling in the armory was one thing, taking his new mate on the deck was another matter entirely.

“Yes. What’s wrong, Second Son? Need a pillow?” Bryn set her boots aside and rose, reaching for the zipper of her coverall.

“No.” At least he assumed he didn’t. “But—”

“You have done this before, right?” she teased with a smirk.

Jace hesitated, torn between the desire to be truthful versus the ease of repeating the lie. He had carefully cultivated his façade—unlike the other male Cy’ren aboard the
Talon
, Jace didn’t indulge in the pleasures of females eager to show their gratefulness for their newfound freedom. He claimed that he had high standards in a lover, preferring quality over quantity, but the truth was that he had avoided taking a lover for the same reasons he hadn’t taken a mate. Any affection he showed for a female could be used against him by Wylarric, and he refused to endanger an innocent because of his brother’s paranoia.

Until now. Though considering the ease with which Bryn had dropped Jace, he was certain that his brother’s men wouldn’t stand a chance against her blade.

Bryn’s brow rose at his silence. “You have, haven’t you? Or are you a virgin?”

“Well, technically, yes, I am,” he admitted, deciding upon honesty. She was his mate, and deserved the truth. “Though I am familiar with the concepts involved.” Jace cleared his throat as his face heated with an embarrassed blush. “Please don’t repeat that. Commander Soth barely respects me as it is.”

“You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

She smiled dryly, as though expecting a joke, but then her expression sobered as he awkwardly tugged at the collar of his uniform jacket.

“I became a shadow sword as soon as I reached my majority, and I have served the resistance ever since,” Jace explained. “The only female Cy’ren I see have just been freed, and I never wanted to take advantage of their gratitude. I…if it helps, think of this as an educational opportunity that can be used to your advantage. You can tutor me in how to best please you and Sabine.”

“
Educational opportunity
. I like that. It’s a very…refined way to describe fucking.”

Jace frowned. “This isn’t fucking, it’s mating. There’s a difference.”

“And you would know this how?”

“The difference is the intent,” he argued. “You are my mate. I meant it when I said that I would honor you, and Sabine.”

“We’ll see how that holds up when you’re not high on the phase.” Bryn stepped close, her expression quizzical as she wiped blood from his face. “I’m glad I didn’t break your nose, Second Son. Your secret’s safe with me. Once Sabine gets hold of you, you’ll more than make up for lost time.”

The last shreds of his self-control evaporated as Jace pulled her against him and kissed her, and Bryn moaned and then bit his lower lip. Not enough to wound him, but enough to draw blood as he dragged her to the floor. Jace fumbled with the zipper to her coverall. The damn thing stuck halfway down her chest, and he grabbed either side of the garment and tore the rest of it open. He tugged it down over her hips until it tangled below her knees.

“I’ll get it. Take care of your own clothes before I tear your pretty jacket,” she warned.

He frowned at her practicality, but he obeyed. As he shed his clothes she finished undressing and then lay back, bared before him. Once naked, he descended upon her, hungry to taste her again. Bryn wrapped her arms around him and stroked her hands down his back to settle at his waist.

“It’s like swordplay,” she murmured. “You thrust, I parry.”

Jace barely heard the comment as he bit her. Bryn gasped and shuddered, her fingers digging into his hips. The rush of her blood was intoxicating, heady and addictive like nothing he had ever experienced before.

“Usually you thrust,
then
bite,” Bryn advised in a low, breathy voice.

She nudged him back, then reached down and guided his cock to her sex, and as he slid into her he found Bryn not only wet but almost dripping with arousal. Closing his eyes, he moaned at the pure pleasure of it, but then she grabbed him and rolled him beneath her.

“But then again, it is your first time. I’ll drive.” Bryn grinned as she straddled him.

He opened his mouth to argue but gasped as she shifted atop him and began to ride him. Pleasure raced through him, feeding the need ignited by the phase pheromones. Bryn was relentless, but it wasn’t enough. Her eyes were closed, her expression empty—nothing like the defiant fire that she’d shown while dueling him.

“Not today.” Jace gripped her hips and smirked. “As I said, I have a problem with authority.”

She scowled up at him when her back touched the deck, but then Bryn wrapped her legs around his waist and held on as he pounded her. Crazed, he took her fast and hard. Much to his surprise, this time she met him move for move. Bryn cried out and tensed around him. Jace threw his head back and let go as release shuddered through him.

Spent, he collapsed atop her. Bryn slid her hands up his back in a light caress, and then grabbed a handful of his hair. This time she bit him hard enough to leave a mark but without breaking the skin.

“Not bad for your first time. You’ve got potential,” she said. “We should go. The doctor doesn’t want to keep Sabine sedated longer than necessary.”

Jace nodded, unable to form a coherent reply. As they redressed it became apparent that Bryn’s coverall wouldn’t be covering much above her waist anymore, and he winced with guilt.

“Here.” He draped his jacket around her shoulders. She looked up at him in surprise, but then shrugged it on and buttoned it closed.

“Thank you. I’ll bring Sabine to your quarters. Don’t want you to snap in the med bay and take her on a diagnostic bed. Your poor doctor would be traumatized.”

Jace scowled. “I’m fine.”

“No. You’re hard again already, and you haven’t even had a real dose of the pheromones. We’ll meet you in your quarters. I’d suggest stripping beforehand, to save any further wardrobe malfunctions.” Bryn eyed him with a dry expression, and he nodded.

“Very well. I’ll see you there.”

He watched her as she sauntered out of the room. Had her hips swayed like that before? Jace took a deep breath but found it did little to quiet his racing pulse. Bryn was right—he was hard again, and when the full effect of the phase hit him he’d be of little use to anyone but Sabine until it ended. He should warn the captain to take him off the duty roster for now, though Captain Hawke had been right that they couldn’t afford to lose the manpower at the moment. Thank the gods they were in transit to Cyprena and not headed into another battle.

Sabine burned. The sickly heat never left her—sometimes it simmered, but usually it boiled, and now there was a new, sharp edge to the sensation. She was hungry, thirsty and filled with aching need, but there was a gnawing pain to all of it. Her thoughts were clearer, but she wasn’t certain that was a good thing. The burn didn’t hurt as much when she floated on the blissful high of whatever it was the master dosed her with.