Silver Bound (14 page)

“We’ll go.” Jewel paused and, when he faced her, mouth open to reply, she held up a hand in a stop motion. “I don’t want to talk right now. You said you’d hold me, and you’re not done.” She thrust back the corner of the covers invitingly.

He snapped his mouth shut. “Well, hell.” He toed off his damn slippers—the ones that should’ve been down a waste chute already. “Just a minute, sweetheart.”

Near the door he used the ever-present U-panel to order their luggage delivered. If they traveled to Taphgan tomorrow, he damn well wanted his boots. Padding over to the bed and slipping beneath the warm sheets before he could think himself out of it, he pulled her close. Like heat and velvet, her skin had to be the greatest pleasure in the universe. But he had to keep his libido from running like a bull after the scent of a cow in season. “Sweetheart, we need to talk about what happened. Your ex-husband is probably looking for you, and I need to know more about your Jared. Where is he?”

“Jared. Yes, we need to talk about him, but I know he’s safe for now. I’ll explain. Later.” She relaxed and snuggled closer to him. After her assurance of her son’s safety and with the warmth of her, naked and eager, melted against him, the thoughts of all else fled.

Breath sucked in, he strangled the urge to kiss her, but he was too late. A flash of heat radiated out from her collar.

From Jewel to him.

His mind fizzled. She groaned and wiggled her softness against his wiry, quickly-turning-hard self. He couldn’t speak, and she continued with a confidence she hadn’t shown since before she’d left Grassland to marry a stranger.

“But first I want to make up for the time I’ve missed. The years I spent not having you. The past few days of not being aware. I want you.” She seemed on edge, a bit desperate, a state of mind he’d been in for days. “I understand why you’ve kept your distance, and we do need to talk, but I’m going to take you, now. For a few minutes, I want to keep the rest at bay.”

Roles reversed, she the master, he the slave. She thrust a hand in his hair and gripped him. Hard. The sting of pulled hair added to his growing urgency when she yanked him to her lips and devoured. The collar didn’t matter. Her silver lips, nipples and folds didn’t matter. The glint of her quicksilver hands as she let him go to cup his face hazed over his vision, and he sank into her care.

Jewel eased the wild, careening kiss and bit at his lower lip before she pushed him away and stared directly through him all the way to his tightening cock. Soft and welcoming, the pool of her gaze brought him home with a hint of sadness.

“I love you. Always have, my cowboy.”

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk at all. He’d become inept and clumsy, unable to be coherent once she’d taken the reins, and the words he’d longed to hear his entire life swept him on a wave of bittersweetness that completely blew him away. He nodded, his throat too tight to speak, but she understood. He felt it deep inside, the same as he understood this would be all he’d ever have. Her life would change tomorrow, and it wouldn’t include him anymore. It couldn’t. Nothing had changed. He still wasn’t high society. She’d still leave him to recover her life and take care of her son.

“You love me, too. I know. I’ve known since you carried me back from that accident in the ravine, crying and swearing you’d make it better. Every time you looked at me with that hunger. I’ve always known.”

Such a strong woman. Such a good, wonderful woman. He didn’t deserve her, not his unworthy thief of a self. He’d steal this moment and hold it tight.

Before her words and kisses ripped out his entire soul and left him incapable of giving her pleasure, he put one finger to her gleaming lips and, with a shaking hand, plucked away the sheet. Her nipples, hard for him, tempted him like burnished berries. He’d feast like never before.

When he bent over and lapped her sweet skin, she groaned and arched, pushing her flesh farther into his mouth. He latched on and suckled her deep, pulling hard while he tweaked her other nipple with rolls and pinches that left her gasping, pleading. They’d exchanged sexual favors. He’d claimed her with his cock and with his will. He’d relieved her, encouraging her to masturbate in front of him on the cruise.

Now he gave her his love, how he needed her, how she completed him, how he wanted to please her. He moved to her other breast, his body aching to be inside her, but he held himself back. With feather-light strokes, he eased her, petting her stomach and whispering between nips at her breast. How much of her lust came from her collar versus what she wanted didn’t matter at the moment. She loved him and, this time, this meeting of the bodies was for her, as they all should have been. He worshiped at the temple of her, his Jewel.

Unable to wait and test her response, he fanned his fingers, searching and seeking her slickness.

“Do you want me?”

“Yes,” she groaned and bucked her hips, following his retreating hand before he cupped her mound.

His fingers slid along the naked folds of her sex and dipped inside briefly before he teased away. He palmed her thighs and vowed to edge her keening to a fevered pitch.

“Does Jewel want Guy, or does slave want her master?” Damn, he was a bastard to ask, but he needed to hear it.

“Guy. I want you. The man I love,” she whispered and caressed his hair, and the rotation of the ship stood still for a blink of an eye before it careened forward again.

With a swift move born of a desperate need to fill her, possess her love and affections, he flipped her on her stomach, lifted her hips toward him, fingered her open to his hungry stare, and kissed her bared pink flesh.

“Oh, yes,” she panted into the bed, her face buried in the sheets.

His tongue speared her, his hands kneaded her cheeks and she arched, pressed against his tongue with a rhythmic roll of her hips. Her groans turned to a constant hum, over and over, a litany of “Yes, Guy.”

His cock hung thick and heavy between his legs, aching but eager for her climax. At this rate their lovemaking would end all too soon because once he claimed her ultimate pleasure, he’d probably spill on the sheets. He needed her honeysuckle taste to fill the emptiness in him. With complete ruthless intent, he hardened his tongue to stroke her clit, tickling back and forth.

She bucked, almost dislodging him. He gripped her hips and buried his face so deep he couldn’t breathe. He pushed against her clit, flat-tongued, pressing as she erupted, her thighs shaking, her arms collapsing, but he held her up, drawing out the climax as she shouted. She fell forward, limp. Unable to stay separate, he ached to join her, emotionally and physically. He covered her from behind and took her.

His cock buried deep. Her pussy pulsating tight and hot around him, he positioned her hips and gripped as he set himself to a measured, torturous pace. Like the ebb and flow of the wild grasses swaying in the meadow, he rocked home. A wash of warmth flashed, hot as a sun smiling down at him. He rolled forward, back. Forward, back.

Forward.

Back.

The top of his head heated, and each hair stood on end as the white blaze zapped down his spine and erupted into bliss.

“Oh, love.”

He didn’t know who said it out loud, but the truth of it washed over his soul, dazzling the doubt and ache hiding behind his tightly closed eyes.

“Love,” he whispered into her soft hair and, wrapping her in his arms, he collapsed beside her. A grin took him, made him lighter than air, and he ignored the buzzing from the U-panel letting him know his luggage—and his boots—were here and ready to travel to Taphgan.

He’d face that tomorrow, after he’d had his fill of Jewel.

He’d never left her, his softened cock still inside her welcome heat. With a nudge of her ass as she wiggled, he hardened, lengthened and pushed farther inside to the sweet serenade of her lusty whimper.

He’d never have his fill, and tomorrow would come too soon.

Jewel cracked her lids open to squint against the rising lights in the room. Some sick individual had programmed the room’s enviro controls to mimic the sun’s rising. With a huff, she gripped her pillow, intent on snatching it from behind her head and smothering her face.

Then three realizations in quick succession brought her upright in bed. The first, her mother instinct brought her panic, wondering why Jared hadn’t jumped into her bed to wake her. The second, a deep sadness when she remembered he’d been taken by his father’s goons and was on his way back to the only home he’d ever known. At least he’d be well treated as heir apparent of his father’s ill-gained empire. Kalon may have treated her with contempt, if never any real violence, but he’d doted on his son.

The third hit her like a smack between the eyes. A man lay beside her. A warm, naked and appealing man. Despite her years of marriage—and thank the heavens that marriage was null and void—she’d never spent the night in a man’s arms. This sumptuous room had served as more of her honeymoon suite than the one where she lost her virginity. Grateful for the icy relationship with Kalon, she nearly bounced with elation at having spent her first night with someone. Not just anyone, but Guy, the man she loved. Had always loved. Would always love.

In love with someone else or not, she had to return to Kalon to keep her son safe. Jared needed her. The thought of him tingled through her. Her Jared would love Guy.

Guy.

This would be the last night she spent with her cowboy. His sleeping face, innocent and dear, chiseled with a hint of morning whiskers, tugged at her. Stinging tears rolled down her cheek. She smiled, the salty taste lingering after she licked the moisture from the corner of her mouth.

For the first time in her life, she took a deep breath filled with satisfaction and rightness. She’d had sex before. She’d had a child. Last night, he’d made her a woman. No matter what today brought, she’d always have that. Today, she understood the fuss everyone made over sex, an act that had always been at worst painful, at best embarrassing and clumsy. Until Guy.

She’d never initiated sex in her ill-fated marriage, but last night—she grinned—she’d woken Guy. Long after the sexy sheriff had fallen asleep while she listened to his breathing, her collar silent, his erection limp and sated against his thigh, she’d taken him into her mouth like a wanton. He’d awakened with a sleepy murmur, a plea for mercy, and a gentle nudge of suggestion. Eager to experience everything with him, she’d straddled his lean hips and ridden him like a cowgirl. She was quite pleased with herself.

He had been, too.

She moved to tickle his toned chest, his body a perfect example of honed, gorgeous male with the covers twisted between his legs. A ping from the U-panel halted her and brought Guy’s eyes open and on full alert. When he slipped his sidearm from under his pillow to level at the door, she didn’t even blink. She gulped, the morning’s languid content seeped away.

“Yes?” he called in a sleep-roughened voice.

Dr. Wells spoke through the comm in the security panel. “My yacht is prepared. We leave in ten minutes. You may breakfast aboard.”

“The man is all charm and hospitality.” Guy’s sarcasm reminded her of their companionable days when they were friends pretending not to love.

Unaccountably shy, she gripped the sheet when it pulled away, clinging to Guy’s long legs as he stumbled from the bed. Cheeks heating to a burn, she admired his well-shaped backside and the slight dimples below his waist leading to each taut buttock, white below the tanned line that ended low on his hips. Without an ounce of wasted flesh, all hard muscle and fluid movement, he gathered his clothes from the floor. He didn’t bother to dress, nor did he look at her. He couldn’t be as discomfited as she at their morning after. Could he?

He spoke into the intercom. “Has our luggage arrived?”

After a short pause while he donned his silky clothes, she forced herself to reclaim her senses. Instead of getting dressed, she’d stared, hot and achy, at his nudity until he’d covered it. She searched the floor, nearby chair, bedside table, and finally found her neatly folded clothes on a trunk at the end of the bed. Guy kept his back to her as she threw on her wrap.

Dr. Wells continued in a harried burst. “I took the liberty of redirecting your possessions to the yacht. You’ll have your own quarters and a two-hour trip to refresh yourselves on board.”

“We’ll be out in a moment,” Guy answered. Then he mumbled as he put on his slippers, “What I wouldn’t give for my damn boots.”

***

Waiting in the airlock with Dr. Wells and Guy, who’d been quiet all morning, Jewel studied the sleek ship—long lines, large windows and no debris scarring its hull—docked outside the large view window. The Wells yacht appeared larger than the skimmer they’d arrived on, and much more expensive, but she recognized the model of vessel, nearly identical to the one Kalon used when he left his personal station. After five years living on
Geanus Station,
she’d never called it home. Grassland, Rangetown, the Quinn Mansion were closer to home, but even those held none of the comfort she’d embraced when she’d visited Guy at the Trident Ranch. His barn was more home than
Geanus Station.
She’d never been on Kalon’s yacht, nor did she want to imagine what went on there. She’d had no illusions about her ex-husband’s faithfulness, or lack of—the same ex-husband who’d had her silver-tipped, something he had to answer for.

Jewel was shocked to her toes when Lady Wells arrived. The barefooted lady wore a deep V-wrap that showed her silver collar, with no lipstick to cover her glinting lips. She floated along the floor with her hand on the arm of a handsome man with a silver bracelet.

Dr. Wells visibly tensed and moved to take his wife’s arm.

Jewel blinked, eyes burning with her wide-open stare. Dr. Wells and Lady Wells could not possibly be legally married. Why had she not fully understood that her hostess was a silver-tip, just like herself? Well, she had, but she hadn’t really processed all the facts, repercussions, realities. Neither she nor the lady had any rights, any legal existence beyond the men who claimed them. And who claimed Lady Wells? The woman in question stood between the two men, who were not like bookends, so dissimilar they were. One tall. One average. One dark. One fair. Still, similar in the hard set of their jaws and the angry glint in their eyes.

“This is my brother, Thomas na’ Wells.”

She straightened against Guy’s arm as he grunted a low rumble of understanding. Commiseration and horror softened her toward Lady Wells, who until that moment had seemed distant and cold. Not only did Dr. Wells admit his wife was owned by his brother, but he used the old aristocratic term, fallen out of favor centuries ago. Na’. Thomas na’ Wells was a bastard, accepted into the Wells family, but forbidden the favor and inheritance accorded to legitimate heirs.

“Like you, Sheriff, Thomas has a bracelet.” The doctor reached around Lady Wells and pulled back his half brother’s sleeve. The bracelet glinted, slightly misshapen with a bit of laser scarring the finish, but that wasn’t as horrifying as the long scars on the arm it adorned. “As you can see, the sick bastard who gave Thomas this bit of jewelry damaged the removal function, as well as the boy’s arm. A pity. Though I did consider taking off his hand to get the bracelet off, but then the programming wouldn’t allow for that, would it?”

Dr. Wells dropped the arm of his brother, who didn’t blink, flinch or otherwise react. Thomas na’ Wells seemed a bit bored.

She wrenched her stare away from the family. The heartache these people lived could be her own future, and she couldn’t bear to think of it. Not for now. Not for a few minutes, at least. For this small, precious time left to her, she wouldn’t face the hurt, the anger or the heartache. She had to talk to Guy, and in the next two hours, but she needed a few more moments. Just a few.

***

Guy’s head spun and he longed for a dash of Taphgan whiskey. Hell, more than a dash. The tenseness of the group of five had him in retreat, tugging Jewel after him as he followed the pilot to the private rooms.

The Wells yacht was a long-haul skimmer with a deep belly for the guest quarters and a large master suite. Wood, a scarce resource, gleamed on the handrails of the short paneled hallway. From the sparkling white entry chamber to the common room’s rows of plush chairs with harnesses to the cockpit, the appointments were of rich satin and covered titanium sheeting. Farther below, the crew quarters would be tight with a long row of cots and few luxuries.

Alone in their small chamber, he slumped against the wall and motioned Jewel to sit. Not much choice. Two chairs, a dresser and a large bed he tried his best not to notice though it loomed large in the small space.

She sat on the foot of the bed.

He sat in the chair.

“You need to tell me what happened now. No more putting it off.” He really wanted that whiskey. Nothing good could come of hearing what had happened to Jewel over the past week, or damn him to hell, over the past five years.

“There’s not much to tell.” Jewel told him her story in a succinct, emotionless narrative, as if she wasn’t describing her life at all, but someone else’s. “When my mother died, I blamed myself. I had to do what she’d wanted, her dying wishes. I married the man my mother had asked me to marry. I had the usual aristocratic marriage. I was left to my own devices for the most part. Hosted parties and produced an heir from a cold marriage bed.”

“You said you wouldn’t marry him. You broke your promise to me.” Guy couldn’t help the accusation, the hurt that still plagued him.

“I made a rash decision.” She paled but raised her chin. “It was the only choice I had. I let my mother die and I had to make it right.”

He’d never known she carried that guilt. Though he wanted to rage, to point and accuse, and to blame her for all those lost years, the anger left him like a sucker punch. “You should’ve talked to me. It wasn’t your fault.”

She shook her head, a glimpse of the hard-headed and determined Jewel coming back as she set her mouth. “I had to make it right, even if I broke my promise to you. I can’t regret it. I have my son.”

Jealousy clouded his vision and his gut clenched. Of course he knew all along Jewel had a husband who’d share her bed, but he’d kept to his fantasies of her innocence until that moment. Complete fool. Did he think she’d produced a son without sex? Of course it was possible, but no man would have access to Jewel and not take it.

He didn’t think he’d made a sound, but Jewel started slightly, and their gazes caught. She gasped and licked her silver lips. Swallowed in her blue stare, he couldn’t look away.

“I was treated well enough. Mostly ignored after becoming pregnant. My son was pampered. It wasn’t so bad, even if it wasn’t home and I had no friends, which, given the selection on the station, was a good thing. I had my son. That was more than enough.”

She looked away then, but not before he caught the tightening in her expression. She lied. She hadn’t had enough, but she’d be all right now. He’d be sure of it, somehow. Someway.

“But things changed.” His scratchy prompt filled the small room. He couldn’t keep the edge, the emotion out of his voice because his throat was so tight, so dry, so eager for that whiskey. His hands twitched.

Jewel nodded. “Two weeks ago, a visitor came to the station. Jared took an interest in the man because he brought a little robot dog he’d experimented with. Jared would sneak away to go play with the dog. I didn’t really see harm in it, but I didn’t want Jared to break the man’s work or intrude. One day when Jared wasn’t in my apartments, I searched for him in our visitor’s quarters. The man’s door was open, which was unusual. I didn’t think. I just wanted to find Jared. I walked right in.”

She paled. He wanted to hug her, comfort her, but he stayed put as she shuddered and continued. “A man was on the floor. Blood everywhere. One of Kalon’s goons stood over the body with a disruptor bar, blood all over it. Kalon’s guard would never have acted without a direct order. They killed that man. I ran.

“When I got back to my quarters, Jared was in my bed, covers over his head, crying.

“I bundled him up, stole a skimmer and made arrangements for transport back home.”

He didn’t say a word. From his time interrogating criminals, listening to witnesses, gathering evidence, he knew to let her talk, but he ached to drag her into his lap and never let go. She must have been so scared.

“I was stupid. Of course Kalon could follow his own money. I used my account, the one he’d given me. I should have contacted you right away. That was my first thought, of course, but I didn’t want to get you in any trouble.”

He snorted.

“Kalon’s men caught up with me on
Station Zuthuru.
I nearly got away, but Kalon had reported the shuttle stolen, and station security nabbed us. Kalon’s guards took Jared with the intention of returning him to his father. I know Jared is safe. Well, physically safe, until I can get him back. His father would never let harm come to his person. I woke in the clinic. I think Kalon wanted my mind wiped. He wanted me more biddable. I guess he was going to claim me, but you got there first.”

He couldn’t keep it in anymore, the pain in his chest as solid as the fist clenched in his lap. “How do you feel about that? Would you rather your husband have taken you?”

His mind worked, putting together in the heartbeats the pieces to determine his fate, his sanity. Jewel held his existence in her answer. Her lips parted, the words hanging there, as he scrounged through the details filed in his head. The name finally clicked, in that moment of clarity he’d missed for days.

Kalon Geanus was a crime lord. His wife had witnessed the violent aftermath of a man’s murder on
Geanus Station.
Jewel’d married a thug known for his debauchery, womanizing and gambling. He’d killed the silver-tip office manager with his bare hands, and Jewel had lived with him for five years.

He hadn’t known. He’d been too hurt to investigate her life, follow her whereabouts, make sure she was safe. Damn him to hell.