Chapter 8:
“No, I forbid it.”
Margie glared at him, her beautiful face puckered into lines of rebellion. “You can’t forbid me from anything. All who wish to go can go.”
His shoulders hunched and tensed. “Says who?”
Margie’s chin thrust forward. “Says me.”
How could she be so obstinate? There was no way he was going to let her go, not knowing if they would survive.
Jeval raked his fingers through his hair. “If I have to tie you to a chair to keep you here, then I shall.”
Margie gestured around the small cabin on Talons ship. “I am already aboard.”
He shouted, “Then I shall take you off the ship! Then I shall tie you to a chair, you stubborn, crazy woman!”
Margie said, “We’ve already lifted off and are in space.”
The smugness in her voice made his teeth clench. She had a point. There was no way to send her back, and he knew it. Which was exactly the reason why she had hidden for so many hours. His brow furrowed, and he asked. “Where were you hiding?”
Margie gave him a sheepish smile. “Right here. In your chamber. I knew you’d be on deck for several hours, at least long enough for us to hit the point of no return.”
If he didn’t love her so much he would’ve shouted at her, and his words would not have been kind. He did love her though. He knew that she was going with them because she had to. She was standing by him. That loyalty of hers seems to know no bounds. Not even death was enough to dissuade her from being with him.
He turned away, facing the small berth that served as a bed. His shoulders slumped. “Margie, I beg you. This is foolishness. I can find a small craft that will take you back home. Don’t do this.”
Her hand, cool and light, touched the back of his neck. Her voice was soft and low, and it swept across his emotions, tumbling them even further. “Where you go, I go. I choose this. I choose us. If that means we have to die together, then so be it. Isn’t that the pact that your own parents made? That they would fight against tyranny even if it meant their deaths? That they would stay together even if they had to die together? What kind of life would I have without you anyway?”
His voice held all his anguish. “A life. That’s what kind. I cannot imagine a world without you. I cannot imagine you sacrificing so much, and for me.”
She moved so that her body was nestled against his. She whispered, “Nor can I. I cannot imagine a life without you. If my life has to end, then I want it to end with you. I don’t want to spend whatever is left of my life knowing that you are dead and that you sacrificed so much for the peace of this world while I stood by and did nothing.”
He turned to face her. Her eyes looked deep into his, and he saw written there everything he had ever wanted to see in the eyes of someone that he took as a mate. But what kind of mate would he be if the only thing he would lead her to was death?
“You are the most impossible woman that has ever existed. I have lived for centuries, and I swear that I have never, in all my days and years, met a woman so determined to be so impossible. You are intractable, stubborn, and the most—dammit—you are the most magnificent thing I have ever seen. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I don’t know that I can allow this.”
Her raven hair shook from side to side as did her head. “This isn’t your choice. It’s mine. It is my life. I choose to be here.”
She had just used logic to box him in and cut off all of his protests. He knew that arguing with her now would serve no purpose. They were on their way, and there was no way to get her off the ship before they reached the outer ring of planets that they were headed to.
He said, “There is much to do before we land. It is a short trip to the solar ring. I just came in here to…”
What had he gone in there for? It completely slipped his mind, and that flustered him even more. “I have to get back on deck.”
He strode for the door, and she was right beside him. They entered a long corridor and headed through it. Talon’s crew was busy making sure that the weapons were ready and that everyone was armed. The ship was smooth and quiet, and he could barely feel the vibrations of the travel through the deck and into his feet. He said, “Have I told you how much I hate flight?”
She chuckled. “A few times.”
He said, “Well, I’m saying it again. I truly hate ships.”
She asked, “What do you love?”
The question threw him for a loop. What did she mean? Was she fishing for compliments? Was she hoping that he would say he loved her?
She must’ve read his thoughts again because she said, “I’m not asking because I want you to say that you love me. I’m asking because I want to know you. It seems like I know you, but I don’t. I know that doesn’t make much sense. I know so little of you is what I’m trying to say. I don’t know what your favorite color is. I don’t know what your favorite food is. I don’t know what you like to drink the most.”
His jaw sagged open in both amusement and puzzlement. “Why do those things matter?”
