Page 67 of The Last Hunt
Twelve hours. Maeve sighs and returns to sit in her captain’s chair, her mind racing. She lets TAI pilot them out of the bay and away from January Starbase.
“Where to, honey?” TAI chirps.
When Maeve is silent, Aethon answers. “Make for the hyper-jump point at these coordinates.” He rattles off a set of numbers and TAI adjusts their course. CAL checks Daik’s location. The smuggler is only a jump away from the Tri-Centauri system now.
Maeve watches sightlessly out the viewscreen as they accelerate through the blackness of space, the pinprick stars far ahead of them unmoving points in the vast distance. Maeve thinks about Tellamar, and the refugees. About Daik and his bounty and her plans to leave Two Roses. She thinks about Aethon. His wide, charming grin - his care for her - his kindness. He had joked with the refugees and made them as comfortable as he could during that ten hour trip. It had made her chest tight with emotion to watch him put them at ease. Can she really leave him behind to live alone on a planet in the middle of nowhere just so she can avoid the machinations of Two Roses? Is that what she wants?
Aethon stands and walks behind her. She hears him rummaging around in the kitchenette, starting to put away uneaten ration packs. Maeve stands and steps up to the dash, her gaze still on the stars in front of her. Her mind is spinning. She needs something to ground her.
“Trell,” Maeve says. “I need you.” She leans on the dash, her shoulders and back tight. Maeve can’t stop her thoughts from going down a hundred different paths. How many other people on Tellamar might be coerced into working for the mining corps tomorrow? Or the next day? Or the next day? The gangs need to be stopped. No, they need to be eliminated all together. But what can she do about it?
Maeve supposes she’d just proven that she can get a whole group of people off Tellamar safely without one run-in with the ruling gang. That is a step in the right direction. Maybe she can do something. What could she do with a bigger ship? Or with more people helping her? What could she do with Aethon by her side? Why is she thinking like this? She should be planning for her retirement on Kespar-2 - not fantasizing about overthrowing the government of Tellamar. She should be thinking about the next steps for capturing Daik, not imagining what it might be like to wake up next to Aethon for the next twenty years. Fuck, is that what she wants? She realizes Aethon hasn’t responded to her statement.
“Aethon,” Maeve hisses, turning around. He’s standing a few feet away, just watching her. His eyes are hooded, his body almost unnaturally still.
“What do you need?” he asks slowly.
He’s so gorgeous. His ruffled black hair, his arching eyebrows, his fierce, narrow, golden gaze. The Archer is filled with his presence. He tucks one hand under his bandolier as he waits for her answer. But by the dark way he looks at her, the hunger in his eyes, the way his free hand twitches at his side - Maeve is sure he knows what she needs.
“I need you to fuck me,” she says. She bites out the words and runs a hand over her forehead. “I’m - I can’t -” she stops, unable to put her thoughts into words.
Aethon’s eyes travel over her body, taking in every inch of her. “You want me to fuck you?”
She narrows her gaze. “Do you only like tender love-making, then?”
Aethon raises a hand to his lips, running a finger contemplatively along them. “There’s a time and a place for all things, Bladesbearer.”
The use of her full last name as opposed to one of his favorite nicknames affects Maeve more strongly than she expected. She lets out a shaky breath and clenches the edge of the dash behind her. “All things?” she asks, trying to keep her voice steady.
Aethon winks at her, the corner of his lips rising just slightly, his serious persona slipping just a little. “All things, chrissah. Ask and you will receive, as long as you eventually keep the promise you made to me earlier.”
“What promise?” Maeve asks.
“Sitting on my face until you collapse, of course,” Aethon replies with a wolfish smile. Maeve’s stomach does a flip. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping with intent. “You want to be fucked.”
She nods, unable to look away from him. “No gentleness. Not now.”
“Mmm,” he murmurs. “I can do that for you. I would love to fuck you, Maeve.”
Aethon’s face shifts back to that intensity that Maeve craves. She doesn’t need the tender, funny Aethon who has brightened the darker, cracked spaces of her heart. Not right now. She needs the strong, steadfast Aethon who won’t let her heart break any further. She needs his hands hard on her hips, his mouth crushing hers. The tension between them feels like a cord stretched to its breaking point. A frayed string all that’s keeping both of them from lunging at each other and devolving into beings of pure need. Maeve needs him. How will she ever give him up?
Aethon tugs his leather jacket off in slow, purposeful movements and Maeve swallows hard, watching him. He looks like a predator. Careful, precise. This is the hunter version of Aethon. The deadly one who belongs to Two Roses. The one who brings in bounties slung across his shoulders - the one who never gives up on a hunt. Aethon reaches up and slowly unbuckles his bandolier. It slides off his broad chest and he tosses it behind her captain’s chair. The movement of his hands fascinates her, the tendons shifting under his skin. He removes his pulse gun, setting it down carefully with his jacket. She meets his gaze again as he steps towards her. He reaches into her jacket, removes the pulse gun from her shoulder holster, and sets it on the co-captain’s chair. Every movement is deliberate. It’s like he’s been planning this even though Maeve’s request was completely impulsive. He slowly leans to the side and taps a few buttons, disabling the dash for the moment. The lights blink off on the section of the dash behind Maeve.
“Turn around,” he demands, his voice low. It sends a bolt straight through Maeve’s core. Her stomach tenses and she raises her chin. He’s still farther away from her than she wants. She wants the hard lines of him pressed up against her. She wants him so deep inside her that she can’t tell where she ends and he begins. She wants her mind so full of him that she can’t think about Tellamar or Two Roses or bounties or anything but him. She wants everything. But she wants him to earn it.
“Turn around,” Aethon repeats. “I won’t say it again.”
Maeve growls and steps forward, but Aethon catches her upper arms and spins her around. He presses his hips hard against her, bending her forward over the dash. His physical intensity surprises and arouses her, sending a shiver across her skin. She can feel the hard length of him against her ass and she starts to arch back against him. He grips her arm tighter and shifts one hand so that it’s pressed to the nape of her neck, shoving her cheek down against the cool, hard dash. He leans down over her, pressing his body fully against hers. His weight is exactly what Maeve needs. Heavy and immoveable. Her mind focuses on every inch where his body is flush against hers. She is completely under his power - and yet Maeve knows she’s safe.
“Is this what you want?” he asks, his voice low.
“Yes.” She nods, her cheek sliding on the dash and Aethon’s hand tightens on her nape.
“Good. Should I take you here?” he whispers, his breath warm in her ear. “Fill that pretty pussy with my cock until it’s gushing?”
Maeve can feel herself getting wet at his words and she says, “I didn’t know you had such a filthy mouth, Trell.”
He chuckles. “You haven’t seen half of what I can do for you, Bladesbearer.”