The Intergalactic Duke's Inconvenient Engagement Read online

  Trixie shoved aside her pillow to lean forward and grasp Rayna’s knee. “No,” she said fiercely, rivaling Lishelle’s volume. “Don’t you say that. Don’t say you’re sorry for saving us, for giving us a chance.”

  “But you’d still be saved,” Rayna pointed out. She jerked her chin at Raz without looking at him. “He’d have come to rescue you eventually—”

  “Yes, I would have,” he said dryly, although they all ignored him.

  Rayna continued, “And then you’d go home without any troubles. And I could’ve dealt with this alone.”

  Her agonized guilt trembled around them, and Raz wanted to pull her into his lap again, to take her away from that pain as he’d taken her away from Blackworm’s prison.

  After a moment, Lishelle sank back to the cushions on the other side of Rayna from Trixie with a gusting sigh. “Sure, cuz trouble never followed nobody home as long as they pretended to forget.”

  Raz frowned at her. “Life is always trouble.”

  “That’s what I just said,” she shot back. Wrapping her arm behind Rayna’s shoulders, she pulled the smaller woman to her and rested forehead to forehead. “Ray-ray, you did the right thing.”

  “Not always the good thing though, is it?”

  Lishelle shook their heads together. “Naw. And I like good, wrong things.” She chuckled, though it sounded half like a sob. “But you’re not alone, and we’ll figure this out together, whatever sort of trouble it is.” She sidelonged a glance at him. “You got any other supposedly good news, Duke?”

  Unaccountably, he was stung. “Everyone has troubles.”

  She smirked at him. “Not dukes, I bet.”

  Rayna tilted her head to meet his gaze.

  If only she knew.

  Chapter 6

  Rayna slipped out of the suites when she heard Carmen and Anne, who were getting ready for bed—as if the blackness of the void beyond the viewport could tell them whether it was day or night—whispering about the strange, only semi-understood hazards ahead.

  “Maybe it would’ve been better to sleep through it,” Anne said. “I’m just not sure I want to know what’s happening.”

  “I know,” Carmen said. “I mean, I don’t know what’s happening. But I know what you mean about not knowing.”

  Rayna didn’t blame them for their doubts, but their confusion and fear only seemed to add to her own, and the walls of the suite pressed around her like the panes of a larger, more elegant but still utterly imprisoning coffin.

  She half expected to be stopped at the doorway by guards as she stepped into the corridor, but there was no one about.

  Not even Raz.

  She snorted softly to herself at the stupid way her heart sank a little deeper. What? Had she really thought he’d be pining outside her door? If he had been, it would’ve only been because the suites were actually his.

  But after dropping that clusterfuck of a bombshell about having their memories wiped if they wanted to go home, he had promised to send the Earth envoy to them as soon as the representative arrived. He had recommended they stay in the suites even if they didn’t want to be put in stasis.

  “Fewer memories to erase,” he explained.

  She shuddered again at the idea of erasing herself. But being comatose again didn’t sound any better.

  And being stuck in the room with her accidental victims dreading what would happen next was worse yet.

  Wandering through the big, empty hallways in her borrowed clothes and slippers made her hunch her shoulders. It was too much like the nights after Mom left when she’d slipped through the house in her pajamas—she had to get her own glass of water now—and heard her little sister crying in her room.

  And hurrying to her parents’ bedroom—now just Daddy’s—to tell him that Vaughn was crying. Only to hear him weeping too.

  God, it had hurt so much. Not just grieving over her own abandonment but realizing how much they hurt too and that neither of them could help her, and that she couldn’t help them. Not really. Oh, they could collapse on each other, but what good would that do?

  At the base PX one day, while she’d tried to remember what Mom had always put in the shopping cart, Daddy’s CO had told her what a good little trooper she was. He’d ruffled her hair, which was awful, because he didn’t know her well enough to do that and it had taken her forever to do her hair by herself. She’d known in that instant she wouldn’t follow Daddy into the military no matter how much Vaughn said it sounded like heaven to run around all day, fighting bad guys.

  Sure, they could fight bad guys, but they’d never win. Because sometimes the sabotage came from within, and she’d never forget that, never forget the wreckage that came from being vulnerable to someone who said they’d always be there. And then left.

  And now it turned out, she hadn’t even had a chance to fight Blackworm. He’d taken her without a peep, as far as she remembered.

  Although now that she knew about “refocusing” memories, maybe she had fought and she didn’t even recall.

  “Unfair,” she whispered.

  “The universe isn’t fair.”

  She eeped as she spun around. The slippers skidded on the smooth decking, and she almost went down.

  Raz grabbed her elbow and held her upright with an easy, poised strength until she got her feet underneath her again.

  She scowled at him—and his cool dignity, speaking of unfair—and snapped, “What are you doing out here?”

  “Walking around my ship.” He released her and crossed his arms over his chest. A deep breath expanded the width of his pecs exponentially. “What are you doing out here?”

  What was she doing? Staring at his chest, apparently. Which was revealed in excessively defined detail by a thin, tight gray material. Wait, no, couldn’t say that. “Uh, walking around your ship.”

  Even the most dedicated power walking wouldn’t give a body like his. The fitted tunic clung to his broad pectorals and each one of his many washboard abs, revealing the taut muscles of his biceps. His lightly tanned skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. Apparently aliens sweated? Who knew. Was it salty, like…?

  Wait, no, not even thinking that.

  He tilted his head, and a lock of dark hair swept across his brow. All the other coal-black strands were caught up in a knot at the back of his skull, and she found herself wondering how long it would be if he let it down… “Couldn’t sleep?”

  What, with an alien? She supposed she could sleep with an alien. She wasn’t racist or species-ist or whatever –ist it would be to refuse to sleep with an alien out of hand just because—

  Wait wait wait. She was not saying, thinking, or even subconsciously considering sleeping with him. And anyway, he just meant she couldn’t fall asleep, right? Because alien or not, no noble duke in shining armor was going to sleep with a soon-to-be brain-wiped Earth girl, no matter how easy she was.

  She dragged her focus back to the moment. “Yes. That. Couldn’t sleep.” She grimaced. “I slept long enough in Blackworm’s coffin. Maybe I’ll just never sleep again.”

  “Never is a long time,” he said softly.

  “That’s why there’s coffee.”

  He studied her. “Come with me.”

  “Where?” Despite the suspicious word, she found her slippery slippers moving toward him as if they were lubed.

  Well, shit. Why had she thought about lube?

  “I want to show you something.” He held one arm behind her, as if he was ushering her. “This way.”

  “Won’t I just have to forget it?”

  “Maybe.” His tone was diffident. “But then it won’t matter anyway, will it?”

  She wasn’t sure what to make of his fatalism, but her curiosity was piqued, and she fell into step beside him.

  “I don’t even know what time it is,” she told him, apropos of nothing.

  He nodded, as if he understood her non sequitur. “Because it’s all times, somewhere.”

  “That’s…not helpf
ul at all,” she noted.

  “The Grandiloquence keeps the same insolation/eclipse hours as the ducal seat on Azthronos,” he said. “But that’s arbitrary…and, I suppose, also not that helpful to you.” He smiled down at her.

  He might be an alien and a duke, but she was charmed by him nonetheless. Maybe that was because he was an alien duke?

  She frowned and skipped a step ahead of him so she could look back at him more straight-on. “How can you be an alien and a duke?”

  He tilted his head. “I’m not actually an alien. I’m just alien to you. To me, you are the alien. As for the title, that is the closest approximation in English, according to my universal translator. I am Duke of Azthronos because my father was Duke of Azthronos before me and I inherited from him when he died. That was…” He frowned. “That was three lunar cycles ago.”

  Her stomach clenched at the shadow that crossed his face and she stumbled to a halt. “Your father died three months ago? Oh, Raz, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Loss?” He stared past her. “Technically, it was a gain of the position and the planets.”

  The hollowness in his tone struck her hard, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch his hand. “Then should I call you Your Grace instead of Raz?”

  His gaze refocused on her, and his lips quirked in a faint smile. “That would be my loss.” He threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her along again. “And so far, the gains have been more trouble than they are worth. Literally.”

  So when he’d said life was always trouble and she’d mocked him about being a duke… She winced. “I didn’t mean to tease you about being a poor little rich boy.”

  He shrugged, and the dismissive gesture rippled through to her arm. “I’ve heard it before. I was sent away to…the term in your language is boarding school. The civilized galaxies have a functionally endless array of social constructs—political, economic, legal, and cultural, including many like the monarchial peerage of the Thorkonos Galaxy solar systems—but somehow boarding school bullies always find a way to make yours the worst.”

  She snorted. “I just really can’t picture anyone picking on you. You must’ve been…kinda cute as a little boy.”

  He blinked at her, and then that charming grin flashed at her. “Yes, I think I was.”

  Oh fuck. He could wreck her with that smile. Imagining him as a little boy somehow seemed even more dangerous to her peace of mind than all the wicked things she’d contemplated before. It was one thing to want to feel up a sexy male—alien or not—but to feel for him? That was more trouble than all the stars hiding in the daytime sky.

  “The Thorkonos Galaxy has a primitive, war-like history,” he said. That wry grin again. “I suppose that’s true of many sentient races. We came together to fight against a common enemy. Military forces from each world were led by a powerful warlord—a blood champion. The strongest of those—or the ones that survived the ancient battles, anyway—eventually formed system-wide duchies by divine right—I’m the avatar of a god, I’ll have you know.”

  “How nice for you, having a god backing you up.” She said it with a grin so he’d know she was teasing in a nice way, not a boarding school bully way.

  He nodded. “We’re much more civilized now, but I wanted to explain Thorkonos history so you’ll understand why I have the Grandiloquence”—he waved one hand in a gesture to encompass the ship—“a dreadnaught-class warship that is a larfing nightmare expense, when really I am mostly a very agreeable, diplomatic duke with hardly any proposals for conquest or dynastic expansion.” He gave her a guileless, wide-eyed smile that wasn’t anything like his usual fleeting grin…and made her suspect that he hadn’t been entirely innocent of schoolyard antics himself.

  She lifted one eyebrow. “Mostly and hardly any?”

  “Well, it’s best to keep one’s options open, wouldn’t you agree? In case a new opportunity presents itself.” He watched her closely.

  So closely she wasn’t quite comfortable agreeing so she just shrugged. “I’ve never had to worry about conquering galaxies.”

  “Right, very true,” he agreed hastily. “But if you were so inclined to conquer a galaxy, I want you to know I’d be there to back you.”

  She squinted at him. “Oooh-kay. Good to hear.”

  He paused, shifting his weight uneasily. “You had said…after your mother left, you felt lonely. Though you are farther from home than ever, I want you to feel you are not alone.”

  Now she was getting uneasy too. “Raz… Your Grace—”

  “Raz,” he corrected her. “Short for my given name, Aelazar Amrazal. It’s a mouthful, I know. And I’ve held you while you were mostly naked and vulnerable so the need for formality seems moot.”

  A mouthful, sure, but she didn’t want him in her mouth… She crossed her arms in front of her, tucking her hands into the robe sleeves defensively. “I don’t know what that has to do with—”

  “Nothing, nothing,” he said. “Come see.” He slapped his palm beside the panel behind them, and a section of the wall slid open to give them entry. “This is the navigation center. Restricted to core personnel only.”

  “But of course, since you’re the Duke of Azthronos…” she said, much more snidely this time, her innate sense of fairness thrown off by his shifty behavior.

  “And the honorary commander of this ship,” he reminded her.

  That flashing grin again, the one that made her melt. Only because of that did she follow him into the darkness.

  The room was huge. In the gloom when the door closed behind them, the far walls were invisible, but she felt the space around her.

  Which was appropriate enough, because she was looking at space.

  She gasped in delight at the enormous 3D holographic projection of a galaxy spinning slowly in the dark. Pinpoints of light were stars. Swirling handfuls of glittering dust were nebulas. A few delicate streamers of comets arced overhead.

  “Raz,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  An odd note in his voice distracted her—a husky undertone that sent a spark like another comet burning across her awareness. When she twisted her head to look at him, he was looking at her.

  And that comet-bright spark was in his royal blue eyes.

  She swallowed hard. “Why are you showing me this?” Not just showing her the map, showing her whatever was in his gaze…

  But he turned away from her to “grab” a section of the map. “This is all of the Thorkonos Galaxy.” With a gesture, he expanded it, zooming in, refining the view. “This is Azthronos.”

  “Your solar system,” she said. How odd to think one man claimed an entire solar system.

  He gave her an approving nod and zoomed closer. “Azthronos is also the name of the central planet where the ducal estate is quartered. And here are the other inhabited planets and their moons…” He whirled the map expertly and rattled off names that zoomed past her faster than the simulation. “And here’s our asteroid belt, although we are investigating the possibility of expanding mining operations to the planetary rings around our one gas giant since we’ve found a valuable concentration of rare minerals…” He paused, staring at the map, then slowly zoomed back out to show the system from its fierce yellow star to the edge of the heliosphere. “That’s probably more than you wanted to know.”

  She tilted her head at the new undercurrent in his voice. Resignation? Despair? She wasn’t sure. “I’ve already forgotten half of it,” she confessed. “Even without the memory wipe.”

  He snorted softly. “I’ve had it stuffed in my brain from before I could walk and I still have trouble holding onto all of it.”

  God, she’d sometimes resented stepping into her mother’s role too young—taking on the responsibilities of housekeeper, financial manager, and emotional heart for her fractured family when she’d still been focused mostly on riding her bike to the corner store for ice cream. And he’d known from birth that he had to b
e that for a whole solar system.

  Despite the vastness of the room and the projection, she fought down a twist of claustrophobia on his behalf. “You must feel trapped sometimes.”

  His head jerked up, and he stared at her. The slow revolution of the planets reflected in the pure celestial blue of his eyes. The stiff tilt of his chin made her think he was about to reject her insight, but then his chin came down again in a wary nod. “And alone.”

  The soft confession echoed through the hollow place inside her, like the emptiness between the stars. And it terrified her. Was he saying he felt that same hollowness? With everything he had—a whole damn solar system and a spaceship to fly around in it!—and he still felt that way? Then what chance did she have?

  She took a step back from him. “Raz…”

  “But I didn’t bring you here to talk about mining opportunities,” he said briskly. “Not specifically. I wanted to show you the prospects of not returning to Earth.”

  She stiffened. “What?”

  “I was actually just coming to get you, which is why I found you in the hall, because I received word from the Earth envoy.” He paused. “Your sister is also inbound to Azthronos.”

  “My…sister?” Rayna’s mind whirled as if the star map had just turned upside down. “Vaughn is coming? Here? But…how?”

  “On a spaceship.” He grinned at her, then just as quickly sobered. “She was looking for you after you went missing. We got word to her and she is ecstatic to hear you are well. She said to tell you she would never have stopped looking for you.”

  When Rayna swayed in shock, he took her arm and led her toward a bench near the doorway where they’d entered. They sank onto the seat side by side.

  She clutched at his hand. “Really? She’s coming here? How did she get a fucking spaceship?” She stiffened. “Did she steal it? She hotwired a car when she was eleven because she saw it on TV and she wanted to see if she could do it in real life. She would totally steal a spaceship too.”

  He laughed. “Sounds like a little girl raised by a big sister who would stand as a lure while her compatriots lurked, ready to pounce.”