Ravyn's Flight (42 page)

“I felt that. I didn’t realize what he was trying to do.”

Ravyn sensed her husband’s amusement and bit back her own laugh. It really wouldn’t have been funny if the baby had shown his abilities to a meadow full of people. Little Cameron Julian Brody, named for Damon’s maternal grandfather and her father, was proving to be the handful she’d predicted before he’d been born.

Ravyn loved Peace Day. She always had. Started by people in the New Age movement at the end of the 1990s, it had originally been called Peace in a Day and the goal had been an end to all wars by the turn of the millennium. It hadn’t worked, but still, for one day a year, everyone was supposed to visualize world harmony. She’d always wanted peace very badly, but now that she was a mother, that wish had taken on new urgency. And maybe, just maybe, something they found here on Jarved Nine would help.

Thinking about her desire for peace brought something else to mind. “What were you and Alex talking about at the picnic?”

Her brother had pulled strings to get assigned to Jarved Nine with her and Damon. She still didn’t know how he’d convinced his superiors to send Spec Ops teams here for security or to get himself appointed as the officer in charge of them. Or how he’d gotten Stacey assigned as CAT liaison for the project. No one else from CAT was here.

They both froze as Cam shifted and made a little noise. When he settled back into sleep, they breathed a sigh of relief. Damon and Alex mostly got along. Now. But Alex continued to watch over her, hell-bent on ensuring her husband treated her right, and that led to an occasional flare up.

“It wasn’t about you, sweet pea,” Damon said, his voice even softer than before. “He and McNamara have been butting heads and he wanted my opinion, that’s all.” He must have felt her surprise. “Yeah, I know. Sullivan asking for my take on something is rarer than lamordite. What about the intense conversation you had with him?”

“That was about Stacey. I suggested he marry her since they’ve been living together for almost a year now.”

“Bet he loved that.”

“He told me to mind my own business.”

Damon snorted. “Yeah, right The same way he minds his. Your brother might be mellowing, though. He only threatened my life twice yesterday.”

Ravyn laughed and turned her head so she could see Damon’s face. “You just need to keep me happy, honey, and you’re safe.”

“And are you happy?”

Like he needed to ask. The bond between them was so strong, he sometimes knew what she felt before she did. Now, with this telepathic link appearing and starting to grow between them, he’d probably know what she was thinking before she did.

“I could be happier,” she told him, trying to hide a smile.

“Yeah? Anything I can do?” He nuzzled the place where her neck and shoulder met.

“You’re on the right track.”

“Well, let me know when I reach the station.”

Ravyn wiggled her bottom against the front of his jeans. He went still for an instant and then one hand came up, cupping her breast through the silky fabric of her night slip. His other arm tightened across her waist, pulling her more firmly against his body. “Sweet pea, why don’t we go rest?”

Ravyn didn’t need a telepathic link to know what Damon meant by
rest
. She pressed herself more firmly into his hand. “Honey, I like the way you think.”

§ § §

About the Author

Nationally bestselling author Patti O’Shea has won numerous awards for her writing and been nominated for many more. Her books have appeared on the Barnes & Noble, Waldenbooks, and Borders bestseller lists and have earned starred reviews in prestigious publications such as
Publishers Weekly
and
Booklist
.

www.pattioshea.com
Twitter
Facebook

Dedication and Acknowledgements

For Mom and Dad, who always said I could do anything and meant it. I love you.

To Jenny Low, the High Priestess. Thank you for nudging me back on my path, for reading the words hot off the computer, and for your expert advice on the action scenes.

To Theresa Monsey, the synopsis goddess. Thank you for finding the holes everyone else missed, for pointing out where details were needed, and for listening to me go on and on about the story.

To Maria Hammon, the HoF. Thank you for finding the little pieces of illogic, for proofreading, and for your enthusiasm.

And to Mo Kearney, Karen King, and Dolly Lien for the time they spent reading, proofing, and offering encouragement.

More Futuristic Romance From Patti O’Shea

Eternal Nights
—Jarved Nine Book 2

Captain Kendall Thomas uncovers a smuggling ring while stationed on Jarved Nine, but before she can expose it, she and Special Ops Captain Wyatt Montgomery are trapped inside an alien pyramid. As the smugglers hunt them through the maze of corridors, Kendall learns things she never knew before—about herself, the pyramid, and her relationship with Wyatt.

Excerpt from Eternal Nights

Shit, his head hurt.

Wyatt would have cursed aloud, but he didn’t have the strength for that. What the hell had hit him? A laser cannon? As he tried to figure it out, he felt himself start to drift.

He didn’t know how long it took him to regain awareness, but his head didn’t feel any better this time. His thoughts, however, were clearer. Wherever he was, the ground was hard as hell. Without moving, he listened carefully, trying to pick up whether there was any threat present, but it was quiet.

Good thing. He hadn’t felt this weak since he’d taken a bullet two years ago. His front side ached—probably because of what he was lying on, rather than any injury—and his head throbbed like mad. Everything else, though, seemed to be pain-free and in working order. Slowly, he brought a hand up to his skull, but he didn’t find any blood or other sign of trauma.

Okay, now he needed to open his eyes and discover what was going on. Simple. But the thought of light made the pounding in his head increase in intensity. Come on, Marsh, he told himself, gotta check out what’s happening. Barely suppressing a groan, he forced his eyelids apart. It was pitch black, and he couldn’t see a damn thing. Where in the hell was he?

Again he listened, and again he heard nothing that concerned him. As he breathed deeply, trying to work up some interest in moving, he detected the faintest hint of some spicy, sexy scent. Bug, he thought, his lips curving.

Bug!

Memory came back in a merciless wave and he pushed himself from his belly to a sitting position. The pain reached a crescendo, as if rockets were being launched inside his brain, but he ignored it. It was Bug who was important. “Kendall?” His voice came out thick, raspy, almost unrecognizable and close to inaudible. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Kendall?”

No response.

Damn it, he needed some lights!

Lights. The pyramid had to have the same system of illumination as the other buildings, right? The pounding in his head slowed him down, but at last, he managed to raise a soft glow.

Frantically, he scanned the room. He saw her bag in the middle of the floor and figured they’d tossed it in here to prevent anyone from finding it. His gaze kept moving until he spotted Bug’s procumbent form. Wyatt ran his eyes over her, searching for some sign of injury, but she appeared unharmed. A second, longer look showed her arm was extended toward him and that made his heart stutter. Maybe that was how she’d fallen after taking a blast from the popper, but he wanted to think it was significant. Particularly after the way she’d ardently expressed her belief in him.

When he’d heard that lie about detaining her, he’d expected Bug to think the worst—and it
had
looked bad, even he could see that—but she hadn’t bought that bullshit for an instant. Hell, he still felt heat warm the center of his chest when he thought about how she’d jumped in to declare her faith in his integrity.

He moved next to her and pushed her long brown hair off her face. The small frown between her brows made him smile. That was his Bug, ferocious even while unconscious.

“Come on, Kendall, you need to wake up.”

She didn’t so much as twitch. Okay, she was smaller than he was—if she’d been hit with the same amount of drug, she would be out longer. But he wanted her eyes open, wanted to see she was for sure all right. If anything happened to Kendall, he’d kill each one of those sons of bitches and he’d do it real slow.

Carefully, tenderly, Wyatt moved her so she’d be more comfortable. He held her on his lap because that made
him
feel more comfortable. Her soft breath puffed against his throat and he swallowed hard. “Damn, darlin’, you don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you?” Moving slowly, he cuddled her against his chest. “Probably a good thing,” he continued softly. “You’d run so hard and so fast, I might not be able to catch you.”

Leaning forward, he shifted her in order to press his lips to her forehead. Wyatt watched her face, waiting for her to wake, and stroked her hair. He knew she hated her wholesome look. How many times had he heard her complain about her girl-next-door appearance? She always used that phrase and he supposed it fit.

But there was a lot more to her than that.

At her heart, Bug was a warrior. He doubted she realized it herself, but she didn’t back down from much, and when it came to friends, she was fiercely loyal. A man could count on a woman like this. If he could pin her down long enough to make her his.

He smiled again, but ruefully this time. Wyatt had never thought it would be this hard—he’d thought she would know him the same way he’d known her—but he wasn’t giving up. The soft, warm weight of Kendall in his arms filled him with such contentment, such a sense of rightness, that he knew the work was worth it. His hand stilled mid-stroke and he let his fingers stay tangled in her hair. Her eyes were open, but unfocused.

“Kendall, are you okay?” He kept his voice low, sure her head hurt as bad as his had when he first awoke.

Her green gaze sharpened, zoomed in on him, and he let out a quiet sigh of relief. The awareness had to be a good sign.

“Why’d you let me drink so much?” Her voice was a croak, but he made out the words.

“You didn’t drink anything, I promise.”

Kendall’s brow scrunched up. “If I’m not hungover, why does my head feel like someone used it as a bowling ball?”

Wyatt laughed, he couldn’t help it, and when she glared at him, he laughed harder. It wasn’t until she reached up and gave his biceps a hard pinch, that he forced himself to sober, but he couldn’t quite banish the smile. Especially when he realized she was making no effort to get off his lap.

“Your memory will come back in a few minutes and then you’ll know why your head hurts.” His lips twitched again and he got another pinch. “Sorry. I’m laughing from relief, I swear. You’ve been out for a while and I was worrying, that’s all.”

She scowled at him for a moment more, then it eased. “You must be concerned—your drawl is thicker.”

It didn’t surprise him that she knew him that well. They’d spent a lot of time together since meeting—he’d made sure of that—and if Kendall thought they were nothing more than friends... Well, whatever the hell worked. For now.

He went back to stroking her hair.

Her hand curled around his biceps and the feel of her fingers pressing into his muscle made him feel connected to her. It wasn’t only him hanging on to her any longer—she was holding on to him too.

He knew he should be doing at least half a dozen other things right now, but he didn’t care. They weren’t in immediate danger and he had Bug in his arms. The rest of the world could go to hell. But far too soon, he felt her stiffen and saw her eyes were clearing.

“They had a popper,” she said.

“Yep. Told you it wasn’t anything fun like a night out partying.”

She tightened her hold on him, using his body as leverage to sit up with a groan. “Why aren’t you hurting?”

“I was—I am—but I’m getting past it now. You gotta remember, I was awake before you and I outweigh you by at least seventy pounds. Not only is the drug going to hit you harder, but it’ll take you longer to recover too.”

Wrapping her other arm around him, she rested her forehead against his shoulder. “We need to get out of here,” she said, voice muffled against him. “Warn them.”

“Warn who, Bug?”

“Major Brody and his wife. They’re going after the obelisks in their rooms and those thieves don’t care if they have to hurt them or their son to get the stones. I heard them talking before they knew I was there.”

Wyatt digested that. Though she hadn’t filled him in on anything yet, he’d seen enough to make an informed guess about what kind of mess she’d run across. Leave it to Kendall to find a smuggling ring. But from what she’d just told him, it sounded like the bastards were upping the ante, and he knew exactly which obelisks they were targeting.

He and Brody were on friendly enough terms that he’d received an invitation into his home. He’d been waiting for the major in the sitting room when an odd glow had drawn him forward. Even knowing how rude it was, he hadn’t been able to resist pushing open the door. He’d been so fascinated by what he’d seen that he hadn’t realized he’d barged into the man’s bedroom until Ravyn Brody had called him on it. Luckily, the woman had a sense of humor.

“The light pyramid,” he said, half statement, half question.

“You know about that?” Kendall straightened and he missed the feel of her against him.

“Uh, yeah,” he said cautiously, unsure what had put the edge in her voice.

“And you never told me about it?”

His lips twitched again. “Sorry, it slipped my mind.”

“It slipped your mind?” She surged to her feet, froze for a moment as if steadying herself, and then rounded on him. “You know how interested I am in this kind of thing.”