Queen of Swords (26 page)

“Stop! He might have been a monster, but you had a choice, Kristian. A choice
I
didn’t have.” How different his life would have been had Kristian stood against the old man, rather than becoming his puppet.

“
I was a good son!
” Spittle flew from the prince’s mouth, the whites of his eyes showing. “I did what was needed. Everything that was asked of me. I couldn’t leave. I didn’t want to.”

Boone’s throat closed, his heart giving a painful thump as he circled his big brother. When it came down to it, all three of them were victims of the old man. “That’s the difference between you and I, Kristian. I never gave in.” And he never would.

“You should have.” The prince advanced, blade zigzagging so quickly Boone could barely follow the movement. “I tried to teach you—just like he taught me. But you wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t do anything but cry and beg, and gods forbid you actually take an active role. And then you…you just left.”

His big brother hadn’t been strong enough to resist the pull, but Boone would never betray those who trusted him like Kristian had. “You tried to take Jenny. I couldn’t allow it. I will
never
allow it.”

The prince sighed. “I thought you might say that.” He struck, opening a cut on Boone’s leg before he could react.

He stumbled, going to one knee. His brother could have ended it then, but Kristian always had been an attention whore. The golden man turned to face the crowd. “This is what becomes of traitors and liars.
This is what becomes of the weak
.” He raised his hands, crowing in victory.

Boone was not weak. He shoved to his feet, tackling the prince from behind and taking them both to the ground. This time there would be no distracting him. Pinning his brother’s arms to the ground, he looked into those sadistic eyes one last time. Something flickered there, some emotion too long stunted to ever come to fruition. “See that Jenny doesn’t become as weak as you are. She has amazing potential.”

As if he would ever allow her to follow in their family’s sadistic footsteps. “Goodbye, Kristian.”

Boone took his knife in a two-handed grip and slammed it into the prince’s chest, twisting viciously. His brother made a choked sound, blood frothing at his lips, those gray eyes going dull with death. Boone ignored the guilt twisting his stomach into knots and stood, raising the dripping dagger high above his head. “People of Hansarda, listen well. The heir, Kristian, is dead. I stand as heir to the throne and I will kill any man that stands against me.” He paused, letting their cheers roll over him for a moment before speaking again. “I look forward to seeing you and your respective chieftains at the Senate’s Council in three weeks.”

Turning to the guards standing at attention, he nodded at Kristian’s body. “Take this to his rooms and have him prepared for his final rites.” After they carried his half brother’s remains away, he turned and strode into the castle, praying the empty poles were a good sign and doing his damnedest to ignore the profuse amount of blood coloring the wood.

Chapter Thirty Four

Boone found Ophelia alone in the front med room, unhooking a tube that had been in her arm, funneling in blood. It had taken him far longer than he liked to get everything sorted out and send the recorded message through the appropriate channels on Hansarda, reaching out to the tribes personally. Ophelia was pale but awake, scowling at him as he strode into the room. “What in the seven hells were you thinking?”

He gave her a half smile, relief making him weak in the knees. She was going to be okay. “Saving you.”

“Bullshit. I was saving myself.”

“I can see that.” Boone eyed the thick med patch covering her arm. “You and I are going to have a talk.”

“Listen here, Butch—”

“Ophelia.” Boone scooped her up. “If you ever call me Butch again, I’m going to put you over my knee and spank you until you scream for mercy.”

“Fat chance.” But she didn’t protest when he carried her out of the room and down the hall. “I’d like to see you try, though.” She sighed, seeming to sink in upon herself. “My mother is dead.”

There was nothing he could say to make it right. “I am so terribly sorry.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I have Hansarda’s finest medics working on your father now.”

“I know.” Just that. Nothing more.

They fell into a comfortable silence as he climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. His rooms were exactly how he’d left them, give or take ten years worth of dust. Even as he opened the doors, bots zoomed over the floors and furniture, sucking it up and leaving gleaming stone in their wakes. The bed never looked better, even with the threadbare comforter, so he headed there. “Sit with me.”

She growled as they bounced when he dropped down. “As if I have a choice.”

“You’ve always had a choice.”

Ophelia sat up, shoving her hair back. “Like when you kidnapped me?”

“You walked onto that ship of your own free will.”

“And when you sent me home.”

“You didn’t go.”

She gave a little shriek. “Because I had to save your ass.”

“I love you.”

Ophelia went still, searching his face. “We won. You survived. You don’t have to say it anymore. We had fun while it lasted, but now you’re a king and I’m just a gunrunner. I’ll stop by regularly so you can see the kid, but—”

Boone shook his head. “No.”

“What do you mean,
no
? It’s the perfect solution.”

“There’s nothing perfect about it. And I don’t throw those words around easily, even if you do.” He held his breath, trying to look like her answer wouldn’t change his life forever. Oh hells, who was he kidding?

Ophelia bit her lip, looking unsure for the first time since he’d met her. “I…don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t throw those words around easily, either.” She glared like it was his fault she had to deal with this in the first place. “I love you, okay. Don’t gloat.”

“I’m not gloating.” But he couldn’t stop grinning.

“Get that stupid smile off your face.”

“Can’t help it.” Boone sat back and closed his eyes, letting himself relax for the first time in what felt like years. Kristian was dead, Ophelia was safe—at least for the moment—and they were alive.

…

Ophelia loved seeing him smile.

Her hand went to her stomach, still flat even though it felt like eternity had passed since she found out she was pregnant. She jumped a little when Boone’s hand covered her own. He pulled her close, spooning her, while maintaining the hand on her stomach. “Please don’t leave. Stay with me. Marry me.”

“No.” But, Lady, how she wanted to.

Boone tensed and she thought he might explode. But, when he spoke, his voice was devoid of emotion. “Why?”

She hated how he shut himself down like that, put up a barrier between them. “Stop it.” Ophelia tried to turn so she could see his face, but his arms held her immobile. “Ladydamnit, Boone. Let me go.”

Instantly his arms were gone, leaving her bereft. She was screwing this up. Ophelia rolled over, settling chest to chest with him. His face was as expressionless as his voice when he said, “Please.”

Saying the word seemed to have created a crack in his defenses, bringing down the wall between them. He let her see how much she hurt him, how scared he was, how much he loved her. After the blank slate, it was overwhelming, but Ophelia didn’t pull away. Instead, she cupped his face in her hands. “I won’t marry you, not like this, not just because you knocked me up.”

“But you do want to be with me.” His gray eyes stared into her soul, stripping away her defenses as if they’d never existed.

“Yes.” How could he think she’d want anything else after everything they’d been through?

Boone kissed her, his touch driving away her worries, her doubts, her fear. He rolled her, his hands seeming to be everywhere at once, all the while so damn gentle it took her breath away. When they finally came up for air, he was grinning like a madman. “Settle your father here, or we’ll work out some way for both of us to spend time on Keiluna. I have a few pilots who would jump at the chance to help your cause, if that’s something you’re interested in.”

Ophelia blinked. “Aren’t we moving a little fast?” Even as she asked, the Lady’s voice whispered,
Not fast enough
.

“Woman, you’re having my child and you love me. Get used to having me in your life.” He kissed her again, long and slow. “And you will marry me someday.”

She laughed. “Settle down for a wait then, cause I have no plans to marry in the foreseeable future.” The Lady might have decreed that she would marry him—and she would—but Ophelia fully intended to do it on her own timeline.

Boone shook his head and glanced up as if asking the gods for patience. “I wouldn’t expect anything else. But understand this: I love you, I want you, and I’ll wait for you forever.”

Ophelia let herself consider what a life with Boone would be like. He was stubborn and territorial and would be hell to live with, always stepping on her toes and getting into her space. But she would make damn sure to give as good as she got. Lady knew, they might not have forever, but Ophelia would take every minute fate would give them. And then she’d fight the gods for more.

Giving him a cocky grin, she raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Your Highness. I suppose I could give your proposal some consideration and get back to you later.” She laughed at the look on his face. “Or you could remind me right now of all the reasons I love you and trust you and want to spend every last living moment by your side.”

Because, Lady and her own stubbornness be damned, Ophelia sure as hells wasn’t going anywhere.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, I’d like to thank God. He’s seen me through the good, the bad, the ugly, and the times when the road disappeared completely.

To my family, who encouraged me right from the beginning, and to my wee ones—Just one more page, babies. I promise!

More thanks than I can express to Seleste DeLaney. You’ve talked me up, talked me down, and gave me a kick in the ass when I needed it. We really are twins separated at birth (and by a few years).

This book wouldn’t be much without the help of Seleste DeLaney, Lissa Basso, and Sandy Williams. You guys are made of awesome.

And, finally, to my editor, Heather Howland. You made this book so much better than I could have dreamed. Thank you!

Keep reading for sample chapters of

BREAK OUT

book one in the Blood Hunter series

by Nina Croft

The year is 3048, Earth is no longer habitable, and man has fled to the stars where they’ve discovered the secret of immortality—Meridian. Unfortunately, the radioactive mineral is exorbitantly expensive and only available to a select few. A new class comprised of the super rich and immortal soon evolves. The Collective, as they’re called, rule the universe.

Two-thousand-year-old Ricardo Sanchez, vampire and rogue pilot of the space cruiser, El Cazador, can’t resist two things: gorgeous women and impossible jobs. When beautiful Skylar Rossaria approaches him to break a prisoner out of the Collective’s maximum security prison on Trakis One, Rico jumps at the chance. Being hunted by the Collective has never been so dangerous–or so fun!

Chapter One

Rico hurled himself behind the huge trunk of a tree and stood, back pressed against the rough bark as the missiles whizzed past.

An arrow thwacked into the wood behind him, and every muscle in his body tensed. He reached gingerly around and snapped it off. In the dim light, he held the shaft to his face and cursed loudly—wooden arrows. It was almost as though they were expecting him.

“Goddamn heathen peasants.” He might as well be back in the Dark Ages.

In the distance, a pack of hounds bayed for blood. His blood. And they weren’t getting it.

He braced himself and peered around the trunk, through the thick stand of trees, and spotted the crimson glow of a hundred torches not too far in the distance. Breathing in, he caught the oily scent of burning pitch.

A triumphant roar filled the air. The hounds must have picked up his scent.

Rico cursed and darted off again, weaving through the dense forest with blurring speed. He could outrun the mob and the hounds, but it was a damn poor way to end an evening.

When the sound of voices faded behind him, he slowed down and finally came to a halt. Time to get the hell out of there. Leaning against a tree, he switched on his comm unit.

“What is it?” Tannis sounded irritated, and Rico frowned.

“I need picking up.”

“It will have to be later—I’m busy.”

He cocked his head to one side, listening for the sound of the mob, judging its distance. His pursuers would be on him soon. Tannis had better get unbusy and fast.

“Tannis, stop whatever it is you’re doing, bring my goddamn spaceship, and pick me up.”

She was silent for a moment. “I’ll think about it.”

The line went dead. He stared at the comm receiver on his wrist. She’d cut him off. Gritting his teeth, he imagined the pleasure of tossing her mutant body out of the ship’s airlock. Only first, he had to get back to the ship. He pressed his finger down until he heard the line open.

“What?” she snapped.

“Tannis, are you aware that I’ve rigged
The Cazador
to blow if I don’t input a unique numerical code every twenty-four hours? Come and get me or the whole ship goes up.”

“Good try, but I don’t believe you. You don’t think that far ahead.”

He took a deep breath. “Do you remember that time last year?”

“What time?”

“The time I saved your worthless life. At great personal risk to myself.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So bloody well reciprocate.”

A shaft of burning pain shot through his leg and he jumped, then stared down in disbelief at the arrow sticking out of his calf, an inch below the knee. “I’ve been shot,” he said.

“Shot? By what?”

“By a big fucking arrow. Get down here. Now.”

He yanked the arrow from his leg and flung it to the forest floor. “Or you’re fired,” he added and shut off the connection.

His pursuers were close now, so close he could hear the fierce crackle of flames mixed with the rise and fall of excited voices. He ignored the pain in his leg and took off through the trees again. A few minutes later, he skidded to a halt.

Straight in front of him, the land fell away abruptly. He peered over the edge. A long way below, water roared. A lot of water. A lot of
cold
water. He hated cold water. He searched the sky for any sign of Tannis, but a thick layer of cloud obscured the moons and he saw only darkness. He jammed his finger onto the comm unit. “You here yet?”

“Have a little patience. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Great, just great. The problem is,
I
might not be here in five minutes.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic. Just hold on.”

He stared over the edge into the dark, turbulent water. “Hold on to what?”

A low snarl sounded behind him. With a sigh of resignation, he turned to face his pursuers. T
hey emerged from the shadowy tree line, torches held in front of them, before fanning out to form a semi-circle around him.

One of the hounds crept toward him, belly close to the ground, growling softly. It reminded Rico a little of the dogs back on Earth, probably even had some real dog DNA in there somewhere. Rico growled back, baring his fangs. The animal got the message, turned tail, and ran.

A tall man stepped forward to stand at the center of the group. He wore the long black robes of a priest, and Rico groaned. Not heathens after all. Bloody religious fanatics. He should have expected it.

When man had fled to the stars nearly a thousand years ago, the old religions had gone into an abrupt decline. By the year 2500, they had all but vanished from the universe, and good riddance as far as Rico was concerned.

But that had changed with the discovery of Meridian.

A rare, radioactive element with the ability to bestow immortality on those lucky enough to afford its exorbitant price, Meridian heralded the evolution of a new class—the Collective. Super rich and virtually indestructible, the Collective quickly gained power. Now, they ruled most of the civilized universe.

But while not everyone could afford Meridian, everyone wanted immortality, and the old religious beliefs had gained a new popularity. The Church of Everlasting Life offered a cheaper, if less reliable, alternative with its promise of an afterlife in paradise.

On these isolated outer planets, the Collective’s influence was slim and the Church took advantage of that and jumped in to fill the gap. A shudder of loathing ran through him. Rico had no feelings either for or against the Collective, but he hated the Church as only someone who had lived through the Inquisition could.

“Son of Satan,” the priest cried, and the mob behind him roared.

Rico rolled his eyes. “We’re not actually related.”

A second man stepped forward, dragging a girl with him, and the priest grabbed her hair, tugged back her head. In the flickering light, Rico saw the puncture wounds in her ivory neck and had a flashback to the sweet taste of her blood.

“I have been ordained by God,” the priest said, “for the punishment of the wicked and the eradication of evil.”

“Get a life,” Rico muttered. “Look, it’s honestly no big deal—the marks will heal in a couple of days. You won’t even know I was here.”

His words didn’t seem to impress them. Of course, the Church was rarely impressed unless they were slaughtering innocents, and Rico was the first to admit he hadn’t qualified as an innocent in numerous lifetimes. If ever.

Five men stepped forward, and Rico watched them warily. They raised their bows, cocked their wooden arrows. Drew them taut and aimed them straight at his heart.

Rico glanced over his shoulder at the icy water below. He was going to have to jump. “Shit.”

He tensed himself, ready to dive over the edge, just as the sky filled with noise and light. His gaze shot upward. He released his breath. The shuttle hovered above them, and a laser beam shot out, cutting the ground between him and the archers. A voice boomed from the open hatch.

“Lower your weapons.”

But they were already edging backward. The shuttle flew lower, almost touching the ground, and Rico lunged for the open hatchway. “About bloody time.”

The mob was almost back in the trees now, but at the last moment, the girl pulled free and raced toward the shuttle. She stared up at them, imploring. “Take me with you, Rico.”

He looked at Tannis, raised an eyebrow.

“No freaking way.” She reached across and slammed her palm to the door panel.

Rico had a last brief glimpse of the girl. He hoped she’d be okay, that her people would treat her as a victim, though she’d hardly been reluctant.

“What took you so long?” he growled as the hatch slid shut behind him, and the shuttle sped away from the planet.

Tannis swiveled her chair to face him. She ran a hand through her short, dark hair and raised one brow in accusation. “Been eating the natives, Rico?”

“
Dios
, you go out for a snack and all you get is hassle. I’ve got to eat.”

He hobbled across and sank into the seat next to her, rubbing his leg and tossing Tannis a wounded look. His ship’s captain was no Florence Nightingale, but dammit, his leg hurt. “They shot me.”

“Aw, poor baby.” She uncoiled her lean body from the chair and came to stand over him, her cold, yellow eyes looking him over. Reaching down, she tore open his pants leg. The bleeding had already stopped, the wound healing over. “You’ll live.”

He frowned. “So what kept you?”

“While you were down here playing,
I
got us a job.”

“Legit?”

“Shit, no.”

His mood lightened. “Dangerous?”

“For this sort of money, it’s probably going to kill us.”

He grinned. “Sounds like my sort of job.”