Killbox (2010) by Ann Aguirre Read Free Book Online

prince, a chieftain who never ruled and who will come again in times of need, or perhaps simply the savior that came from the skies. It's a romantic fable. Even now I can see its genesis in the admiring eyes of young men who strive to walk like him.
    His arms go around me, and though we have things to do, I stand quiet while he sinks his hands into my hair. I've learned what some people never do--not to take for granted what I have, while I still have it. I came within a whisper's breath of losing him, so if he wants to hide his face against my head to cover his embarrassment, I'll let him.
    I feel his heart thumping steadily against mine. The sounds aren't quite in rhythm. His comes slow and steady while mine has a funny little skip every fifth beat. I could probably ask Doc what that means, but I don't need to go looking for trouble when I already have a heaping helping on my plate.
    March raises his head, and his eyes search mine for a long moment. His lips brush mine in a prelude to sweeter things, but we both know we have to belay the urge to retreat to our cabin for a week. Our cabin.
    Simply thinking it sends a little ripple of pleasure through me. He's mine again. Maybe even more mine than he was before because I certainly did my best to emblazon myself into him so deeply he'll never be free. Was that wrong, I wonder?
    "I don't mind," he says softly.
    I grin. "You wouldn't. You've been trying to tie me down since the minute you set eyes on me."
    "Not quite," he answers. "Close. I think from when you first thought about dropping a giant rock on me." He traces the pattern on my throat and shakes his head. "If anybody else had done this to you, I'd be asking you to get it lasered off."
    On Ithiss-Tor, Vel put a tattoo around my throat as camouflage for marks March left during one of his nightmares. If I'd shown up to a council meeting so damaged, they would've taken it as a sign of weakness, and it would have hurt my status. From what other Ithtorians said, I think the pattern and its placement might have some deeper meaning, but I never asked Vel what it signifies. I figured he'd tell me if he wanted me to know.
    "Just as well you're not asking. I wouldn't do it. Call the others?"
    With a nod, he does.
    Our crew meets us at the door. My gaze touches on them one by one: Hit in her dark beauty, with Dina pale as the moon; Doc, stocky and broad enough to bear any burden, with red-haired Rose by his side. Vel stands slightly apart, listening to them talk, but I can tell he's attentive.
    As we exchange greetings and make ready to head on station, Argus comes down the hall toward us. His stride slows as if he's afraid of presuming too much. I don't think for a minute he intended to join us. I think he just wants to explore the station. He's a navigator to the bone. Since I understand him so well, I smile, seeing myself in him.
    "You ready?" I ask him.
    March raises a brow. It's not sexual jealousy. He's secure enough for that. Instead he's curious at why I've included the kid. Argus hasn't seen enough of the universe to be useful yet, and he's not a trained jumper, so strategic deployment is out.
    I shrug. He's my apprentice. That makes him one of us. I can't offer more explanation than that, but it seems right that he attend the meeting with us. My gut feeling's apparently enough.
    "Let's move out," March says.
    In an hour with Surge, we'll get more straight talk about galactic affairs than we would in a year of working for Tarn. Placed at Emry, Surge and Kora have been monitoring the bounce satellites that cover the region. At this point, they know what's been going on close to New Terra better than the Conglomerate.
    Of course, that's not saying much.
    I'm braced for the worst. We were here; we saw the evidence of Morgut passage. But braced isn't the same thing as prepared. You can never be prepared for that.
    With the exception of those looking after the kids, the rest of the crew will enjoy some time off, doing whatever