Bayne (3 page)

It was true. “No, I cannot.”

“Then why ask me that? Of course I see you as a monster! But not because of your arm, Bayne—even with that you are the most beautiful thing I’ve laid eyes on—but your heart?” She laughed, hard and harsh. “If you have one, it is uglier than your outward scars.”

He stared at her as she rose, throwing his apology in his face. Anger flared and he scrambled to his feet. “Do not talk to me like that!”

“Or what, my lord?” Her voice poured scorn and her expression twisted in disdain. “Will you force your attentions on me again? Will you beat me? I tell you now I will suffer those things and gladly, while you prove yourself nothing more than the evil creature you are!”

Bayne roared and lunged forward. Malia did not back away, nor did she flinch. Instead she lifted her chin and glared at him. He stopped dead, hand frozen halfway to her cheek. No. He would not give into the anger surging through him. He was more than that.

And damn it all, he would prove it to her.

Four

She’d fully expected him to hit her. Hell, he lifted a hand, murderous intent on his face. Holding her ground had been difficult but, apparently, worth it. He backed down.

Malia watched him storm out of the chambers. Once the door closed behind him, her knees gave and she collapsed to the floor. Her eyes stung, but she was too drained to cry. She had no energy for anything.

She fell asleep.

A hollow metal thudding roused her. The deck beneath her shuddered then the soft hum of the engines died. Though the chamber was soundproofed, that dampening couldn’t cut out the sounds transmitted through the structure itself. She could hear the click of cooling metal, feel the faint vibrations of the docking shoots attaching to the hull.

They’d arrived at the space station.

However long she’d slept was enough to stiffen her joints. She got slowly to her feet and stretched, feeling the pull of aching muscles. Thirst drove her into the bathroom where she found a metal cup. She sluiced it with hot water, then cold, then filled it again before gulping the liquid down. It lay heavy in her empty stomach, reminding her she’d not eaten for hours. So much for provisions being made.

Malia gripped the edge of the sink and stared at her pale reflection.
I didn’t sign up for this
.

But what
had
she thought? Her only consideration had been saving her world. She hadn’t spared a thought for what Bayne would do to her, how he would treat her. Enough was enough. She’d suffered more years of abuse at the hands of her uncle than she cared to remember. She was not willing to give herself over to worse from Bayne.

A soft laugh escaped at the thought of their argument, at the pleasure she’d taken in challenging him. She was proud of the fact she’d not cowered before him. He, like every other bully she’d experienced, had backed down as soon as he’d realized she would not be walked over.

No, definitely not—he deserved a lesson in behavior and manners, starting with his misconception that she would meekly sit around waiting for him to return and abuse her further. With that in mind, Malia walked over to the closet and opened it. It was filled with uniforms, for more occasions than she could imagine, but her target was the array of footwear.

Bayne had larger feet and the soft suede boots she chose drowned hers. Some artful reworking of the laces tightened them enough they didn’t slip when she walked. She smiled at her ingenuity and then rooted in the closet for a disguise.

That came in the form of a hooded cloak. She’d no idea what he needed such a garment for and frankly didn’t care. All that mattered was that it would hide her face while she slipped off the spaceship and onto the station. She could lose it then and probably would, given that the heavy wool was imbued with the spice of his aftershave.

Of course, Bayne had sealed the door but he knew nothing about her or what she could do. Imagining his surprise at finding her gone filled her with a savage pleasure as she pried the lock panel open. She touched two wires together and smirked when the door slid back.
Didn’t see that coming, did you?

Few spared her a second glance as she walked the corridors with a confidence she didn’t truly feel. She had no idea where she was going, but knew it was important to keep moving, even if her heart jumped into her mouth every time she came to a junction. She expected to run into Bayne and feared his reaction. What he would do to her…

Malia came across an umbilical tube joining the ship and station together, and stopped. She’d done it. Well, she’d gotten this far. And yes, she was jumpy as hell and her legs were rubber, but she was here. She could escape, if she dared to step into the white tube that led to freedom.

The thought of the endless space that stretched beyond walls surely too fragile to keep the cold vacuum at bay made her nauseous. What if it tore? How quickly would she die? Would it hurt? Swallowing hard, she pushed the thoughts away and focused on the far end of the tube.
One step at a time
.

Metal plating covered the bottom of the tube and one side was strung with a rope handrail. This she gripped as she forced one foot in front of the other, trying not to imagine herself floating off into forever. Sheer determination to escape Bayne’s clutches kept her going. She would show him. She would.

Hard walls replaced the thin skin of the tube, the white replaced by black and gray. The space station was as ugly as sin, but it was solid. Safe. Malia collapsed against a wall and panted out her terror. She shook like a leaf. But alongside the diminishing terror was the overwhelming realization that she’d done it.

She laughed and pushed away from the wall. With no plan as to where she could go or what she could do, she wandered deeper into the station, propelled less by the need to escape and more by curiosity.

~*~

Once his anger had run its course, Bayne headed back to his chambers. This time he would remain calm, no matter what accusations she threw at him. Perhaps he would explain something of why he was the man he was. Why it mattered, he was less sure.

She had gotten to him, though he tried to deny it. Worse, he suspected that Grieves knew the effect she was having. He needed to settle things with Malia before their fallout disrupted the crew any further, before the rumors started.

Only the door to his chambers was open.

No, no, no! Where the hell had she gone? Bayne fisted his metal hand and slammed it into a wall. Then his anger drained, replaced by a cold wave of fear. The station: she had to have gone to the station. Of all the stupid things she could have done.

Bayne drew his sword and ran to the umbilical.

~*~

Malia was, in no doubt, completely and utterly lost. She turned yet another corner in the never-ending maze of corridors, only to find herself at a dead end. She heaved a sigh and pivoted on her heel.

A figure blocked her exit. Her heart stammered. He stepped forward and she recognized him as Bayne’s captain. She wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or further panic. At least she wasn’t lost any more.

“He send you after me?” she said, sneering. “Missing his pet?”

The captain sauntered toward her. Oh God, she recognized that expression. The heat of her fury turned to the cold of fear. She reversed, but there were still three walls around her. There was nowhere to go. No escape this time.

“You can’t,” she whispered.

“No?” He made a show of looking around. “And who is going to stop me? I know how he thinks and he won’t want you once you’ve been sullied by another. You’re distracting him, and I will not allow it, wench.”

“What?” She didn’t understand. “How am I distracting him? He doesn’t care about me.”

“He should not.” The captain grabbed her upper arms and pinned her against the wall. She tried to keep the flinch from her face, but his widening smirk told her she’d failed. “But there is still something human in him, despite my best efforts.”

A chill ran through her. “Your efforts? What have you done?”

He laughed. “Enough. Despite your…agreement, Terranis will be destroyed. I will see to that.”

How he would achieve that wasn’t going to be left to her imagination. If he forced himself on her, that would, effectively, null her arrangement with Bayne. She doubted he would make that distinction, if he knew she had been raped, but the captain would use it as leverage. And Terranis would suffer as a result.

Malia closed her eyes as he moved one hand to her chest. She’d failed. After everything she’d gone through, all that she’d done, she’d failed. Tears built but she refused to let them fall, in case he thought she was weeping over what he did. She would bite her tongue before giving him that satisfaction.

“Let her go.”

Her eyelids flew open at Bayne’s voice. The captain froze and something ugly crossed his face. She saw his hand move toward his gun. She voiced a yell and shoulder-barged the captain. His shot went wide.

Bayne’s expression was flat, but Malia recognized the burn of fury in his eyes. She was surprised by the vicious grin that split his face.

“Is that the best you’ve got, Grieves? You’re slipping.”

“You’re the one that’s slipping, my lord—you’ve let this insolent wench distract you from your duties. Terranis owes tribute, and she is not worth a pittance of it.”

Malia saw Bayne’s jaw clench and steeled herself. Yet the glance he cast her was troubled, almost… apologetic? He had discovered her gone and come after her, expecting trouble given the sword he held in his hand. The captain, Grieves, got a look that was pure but tempered fury, yet he had a gun and surely outmatched Bayne?

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and considered the situation as rationally as she could. Grieves was bigger than her, but his attention was on Bayne. He’d all but forgotten her, whereas the Overlord hadn’t dismissed a damn thing. Even as she stared at him, his gaze dropped briefly. She followed his glance and found herself looking at the handle of a dagger. Looking back at Bayne, she moved her head in the merest of nods.

“Are you challenging me for the position, Grieves? After all this time?” Bayne rotated his wrist lazily. The blade of the sword cut through the air with a sigh of silver sound. “I am what you made me, after all.”

The cold grip was back, but Malia could not, would not, be distracted by the shaking of everything she knew. There would be time enough for that later. She edged along the wall, slipping out of Grieves’ peripheral vision. She forced her breathing to slow, forced herself not to panic and move too quickly. It all depended on her remaining calm—whatever that was.

“Clearly not well enough, if you can allow this worthless slut to distract you.”

Just words, designed to inflame Bayne and harm her. She pushed the anger aside and kept her eyes on the dagger hilt, trusting that Bayne would let her know when to strike. Everything that had happened between them ceased to matter. She knew he meant to keep his promise to Terranis and that was the most important thing. He had been prepared to risk his reputation with his crew rather than betray her.

Malia bit her lip and thought she’d got him very wrong.

“On that point, you’re wrong.” Bayne circled right. Malia aped him, keeping the captain between them. The exit out of the dead end opened up; a second option for her should this not work. She gave him a pained smile. Oh, very wrong indeed.

“Thing is,” he continued. “I’m not the one who’s been distracted when it mattered.” Swinging the sword, he lunged forward with a yell. “Now, Malia.”

Her fingers curled around the handle and she pulled the dagger loose. She saw the gun aimed at Bayne’s head, caught the slight tightening of the captain’s finger, and struck wildly.

A nanosecond too late.

The sound of the blast ricocheted off the metal walls. She dropped to the floor, hands tight over her ears. Her right hand was wet. She lowered it and stared at the blood coating her palm. Fingers caught her wrist, making her scream. Bayne hauled her to her feet.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s over.”

Her chest hurt from breathing so hard. She stared at him, then down to the groaning captain. An odd sense of detachment settled around her. “You didn’t kill him.”

“Would you rather I had?”

She honestly didn’t know. “He would have killed you.” Belatedly, she realized the shot had hit him—his artificial arm hung useless at his side, the steel blackened. “He was going to kill you.”

“And you saved my life.” His voice was soft, touched with an awe that brought tears to her eyes. Why she chose now to cry she didn’t know, but once she started, the tears came fast and hot.