Page 35 of The Last Hunt
He’s infuriating, but he’s also funny, bold, smart - when he’s not diving into stellar coronas - and way too kind for someone in this line of work. And now that they’re trapped on the Archer together, Maeve is remembering how good he made her feel all those years ago. How worshipful he was - how he made her come twice in the worst of circumstances. She wants the feel of his skin on hers, his weight, the strength of his body, to watch his mouth spread wide into that breathtaking smile. Maeve has avoided Aethon for the past four years for a reason, and now all of that energy she suppressed is clawing to get out from beneath her skin.
Maybe it’s just exhaustion making her feel this way. Maybe this is a terrible idea. Nothing between them could ever last - and it shouldn’t. But couldn’t they spend the night together without it evolving into something more? It doesn’t need to be all or nothing. They could relieve some of their lust - and then leave it at that. A simple arrangement of two people giving each other pleasure. She could do that.
When she finally exits the bathroom, Maeve is surprised to find Aethon lying on her bed on top of the comforter, his tab in hand. He lets his tab fall and gives her a tired smile. He looks so relaxed and comfortable there. So domestic. This powerful man - lying on her bed. Waiting for her. That’s how Aethon has always struck her - powerful. There’s a preciseness to him, a sharpness that makes him even more dangerous. But Maeve has also seen another side of him - a more malleable side, aching for connection. She wonders who he’s trying to prove himself to.
“Your AI calls you ‘Maevey’?” Aethon says, gesturing to the ceiling.
His comment is so unexpected that Maeve laughs. He smiles at her, his eyes crinkling at the outer edges. “What?” he says.
“She also calls me ‘babe’ and ‘honey’ and I think she called me ‘sweetcheeks’ once,” Maeve replies. She sits down on the bed facing Aethon. “I put a stop to that though.”
“Sweetcheeks?” he repeats. “That’s a good one.”
Maeve huffs. “She can be annoying, but she’s been a friend to me this past week.” She pushes her hair back behind her shoulder.
Aethon nods, his brows knitting together. Then he leans forward and reaches out, but pauses, meeting her eye. “Your shoulder,” he says, his voice low. “Daik did this. Right?”
Maeve looks down at the scar on her shoulder. “Yeah,” she replies. “On Alpha Starbase six months ago.” She leans forward into Aethon’s hand, wanting him to touch her. He scoots forward and then lightly traces the scar with his fingers, feeling the rougher edges of it and carefully mapping this new part of her. The tenderness of his touch makes Maeve’s breath catch in her chest.
“He could have killed you,” Aethon growls. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”
The vehemence in his tone surprises her. “Yeah,” she says. “Well, how would you have known?”
“I saw them bring you in after it happened,” he says. “I wish I had -” he stops. Maeve wonders what he was going to say. He wishes he had been there for her? She’s not sure.
“I survived,” she says. Aethon looks up from her arm, meeting her gaze.
“You do tend to do that,” he replies, a wry smile curving his mouth.
“It’s one of my better qualities.”
“Well,” he says, raising one brow. “I hope this trend of survival continues if I’m right about the whole Brimstone - Dreadnought thing.” He lets his hand fall from her shoulder and leans back on the bed. Maeve wants him to keep touching her. His touch sends shivers of arousal down her spine. But she lies down on her side, propping her head on her hand, feigning nonchalance.
“How do you know so much about these corps anyway?” Maeve asks.
Aethon presses his lips together into a thin line. “Do you remember I told you that my home planet is -”
“Freehail,” Maeve interrupts before he can finish.
He looks at her with wide eyes for a moment before smiling and tugging on a loose strand of her hair which sends a bolt of pleasure through Maeve’s stomach.
“Right,” he says. He clears his throat before continuing. “Well, when I was a teenager, Brimstone started mining on Freehail.”
Maeve narrows her gaze and examines Aethon’s body language. He’s tightening up, his face pinching now. Something painful had happened. “They mined on an inhabited planet?” she asks.
He nods. “Yeah. Freehail is nothing to anyone, so no one off-planet gave a shit about us.”
Maeve understands. No one cared about Tellamar either. She sighs and shakes her head and he gives her a tight smile.
“My parents were some of the leaders of the movement to get Brimstone off Freehail,” he says. “So I heard a lot about their plans. They had a contact who was an overseer for CHASA - Corps Health and Safety Administration. She was sympathetic to the cause and had sway with the higher ups at several mining corps. That’s who I’m going to try and contact.”
“That’s definitely a start,” Maeve says. She watches as Aethon blows out a breath and runs his hands back through his hair. “Did -” she starts. “Did your parents succeed? Did they get Brimstone off Freehail?”
He bites his cheek and looks at her with a particular kind of heaviness that resonates with Maeve. Her stomach drops with nerves. She knows at least a part of what he’s going to say.
“Yeah,” he says after a few seconds. “But Brimstone assassinated my brother first. To try and get them to stop.”
“Fuck,” Maeve breathes. She sits up and crosses her legs. “I’m sorry.”