10. Maryse

CHAPTER 10

MARYSE

I stir awake, my body pressed against Bruticus. His ebony skin is smooth as silk under my fingertips, yet unyielding in places where bone spurs protrude. A perfect contrast, just like the man himself - gruff and dominant on the outside, but with an inner softness that shines through in unguarded moments.

Trust doesn't come easily to me, but with Bruticus, it's different. Apart from my father, there's no one I trust more. The depth of affection in those crimson eyes is almost painful to behold, an intensity that both thrills and unnerves me.

It's that very intensity that drew me to him in the first place. Like a moth to a flame, I'm helplessly attracted to the fierceness of his spirit. Yet, being the focus of all that passion is overwhelming at times. I'm still grappling with how it makes me feel, torn between desire and trepidation.

My musings are cut short as Bruticus stirs beside me. In an instant, his lips claim mine in a hard, demanding kiss that steals my breath and scatters my thoughts to the wind.

"Morning, beautiful," he murmurs against my mouth, his voice still rough with sleep.

"Mmm, morning yourself," I manage, my heart racing at his proximity. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've had in years." His hands roam over my body, igniting sparks of pleasure in their wake. "Must be the company."

I arch into his touch, craving more. "Glad I could be of service."

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through me. "Oh, you're more than just a service, sweetheart. You're a goddamn revelation."

And then he's kissing me again, hot and hungry, and I surrender myself to the fire between us, my uncertainties melting away in the heat of our shared passion.

The chrono on my wrist beeps. The sound pierces through my desire-addled brain like a bucket of cold water.

"Damn." I pull away from Bruticus's heated kiss. "I have to go."

"Stay." His hands tighten on my hips. "Five more minutes."

"Can't. June and Eve are waiting for me at the Commerce Center." The lie of omission sits heavy in my stomach. "Shopping trip."

"Shopping." His lip curls. "Sounds terrible."

"Not all of us can walk around in black leather all day." I wiggle free from his grasp, immediately missing his warmth. "Some of us need actual clothes."

"What you're wearing now suits you just fine."

"I'm naked."

"Exactly."

My laugh echoes off the walls as I dart into the bathroom. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly charming."

I peek my head out. "Impossibly full of yourself."

The sight of him sprawled across my bed, all ebony skin and dangerous grace, makes my heart skip. The secret about lunch with Dad burns in my throat. But telling Bruticus would mean explaining who my father is, and that conversation... that conversation would change everything.

Something in Bruticus's expression stops me cold. His crimson eyes bore into mine with an intensity that steals my breath - not the usual heat of desire, but something deeper. Raw pain mingles with tenderness in his gaze, as if he's memorizing my face while simultaneously fighting some internal battle.

My feet move of their own accord. In three quick steps, I'm back at the bed, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. His skin burns against mine as I pull him close, pressing my cheek to his chest. His heartbeat thunders under my ear.

"What was that for?" His voice wavers, uncertain in a way I've never heard before.

"You needed comfort." I squeeze him tighter, breathing in his distinct scent of leather and spice. "I don't know why you're hurting, Bruticus. But I want you to know I care... and when you're ready, if you want to, you can talk to me about it."

The sting of tears threatens to overwhelm me. Before he can respond, I break away and bolt for the hallway. My vision blurs as I shut the door behind me, pressing my back against it. His pain echoes in my chest like a physical ache, as terrifying as it is oddly comforting to feel so connected to another person.

The hover taxi deposits me at the GT's main entrance. My heels click against the polished floor as I make my way to Vakutan Coffee, the scent of fresh-roasted beans growing stronger with each step.

Eve waves from their usual corner table while June sits ramrod straight, datapad in hand. The contrast between my friends couldn't be starker - Eve's bright smile versus June's perpetual frown.

"Sorry I'm late." I slide into the empty chair.

"We haven't ordered yet." Eve pushes a menu my way. "Though June's been practically vibrating to start the interrogation."

June's steel-gray eyes fix on me. "So I understand you've entered into a relationship with an inherently misogynistic and culturally primitive sapient species?"

My coffee cup freezes halfway to my lips. The clinical tone, like I'm some sort of lab specimen, makes my blood boil.

"Primitive? Misogynistic?" My voice rises sharp enough to turn heads at nearby tables. "Bruticus treats me with more respect than any human man I've ever dated. He listens when I talk about my studies. He's interested in my opinions. He's protective without being possessive."

"But Reapers are-"

"Are what, June? Different? That's what makes him special. When Bruticus looks at me, he sees me. Not my father's daughter, not a potential conquest, not a stereotype. Just me."

Eve kicks me under the table, but I'm too fired up to stop.

"He values my mind as much as my body. And unlike some people, he doesn't judge based on outdated xenophobic assumptions."

June's shoulders slump, her usual rigid posture softening.

"Touche, Maryse. I am indeed allowing my prejudices to cloud the issue." Her head drops, genuine shame crossing her features. "In truth, I'm probably allowing envy to taint my perception of your coital adventures. Forgive me."

The admission catches me off guard. My anger dissolves instantly. "June, don't be silly. There's nothing to forgive." I reach across the table to squeeze her hand. "But... jealous? Of me? That's hard to believe. I always thought you were into more intellectual guys."

"Yeah, nerds," Eve adds with a smirk.

June shoots Eve a withering look that could freeze plasma before her shoulders lift in a defeated shrug. "I do confess that most of the men who ask me out are a tad mincing. Perhaps I yearn to be taken captive by my own space pirate and treated roughly."

I slap my hands over my face, heat flooding my cheeks. "You know, sometimes you should avoid taking the galactic express lane to the Too Much Information Planet, June."

Eve's eyes light up with mischief as she pulls out her compad. "Speaking of rough treatment..." Her fingers dance across the screen.

"Eve, don't you dare-"

Too late. A holographic display springs to life above the table, casting a blue glow across our faces.

"Oh, this is interesting." Eve flicks through the images, each more explicit than the last. "It's called the Arch of Discipline. Apparently if you've been naughty, a Reaper will chain you to it and 'correct' your behavior with, ah, 'stiff' authority..."

My face burns hotter than a plasma core. "Please stop."

But June leans forward, adjusting her glasses. "Or what about the Belt of Denial?" She swipes to the next image, her clinical tone at odds with the subject matter. "It syncs up to a woman's biosignature and provides enough, ah, stimulation that she's constantly aroused but unable to climax."

The elderly Ataxian couple at the next table shoot us disapproving glares. Their brow ridges twitch in obvious distaste.

"I seriously doubt either of those are real." I reach over and shut down the compad display. "And you need to stop before they throw us out. The owners of this place are very conservative."

"Speaking of studying," I say out of nowhere.

"Nobody was talking about—" June begins.

"Speaking of studying," I say louder, more firmly "I want to know how's everyone doing with Stardrive Theory?"

I tap my compad against the table. "Those equations for relativistic mass conversion are killing me."

"Don't remind me." Eve groans. "I still can't wrap my head around the Alcubierre metrics."

June perks up. "I could assist. My comprehension of theoretical physics is quite advanced."

"Study group at my place next week?" I scroll through my calendar. "Tuesday evening?"

"Perfect." Eve raises her coffee cup. "To passing midterms and not dying of stress."

We part ways with quick hugs and promises to bring snacks to the study session. The hover taxi whisks me across the station to Dad's favorite cafe. The scent of real coffee and fresh-baked bread wafts through the air as I approach.

Dad stands when he sees me, his gray eyes crinkling at the corners. His embrace is warm and familiar, smelling of his favorite cologne and starched uniform.

"There's my girl." He holds me at arm's length. "You look more beautiful every time I see you."

"Dad, stop." But I can't help smiling. "You saw me last week."

"And you've grown lovelier since then." He pulls out my chair. "How are your studies going? Still top of your class?"

"Working on it." The waiter approaches with menus. "Though sometimes I think the professors are trying to melt our brains with all these theoretical calculations."

Dad's eyes sparkle with pride. "You're brilliant, sweetheart. Those exams don't stand a chance against that mind of yours."

The compliment warms me even as guilt twists in my stomach. "Thanks, Dad."

"So..." He stirs his coffee, trying to sound casual. "Anyone special in your life these days?"

My cheeks heat. The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I force a laugh. "Between quantum mechanics and warp field dynamics? Not likely. Who has time for dating?"

"That's my girl." His relief is palpable as he reaches across to pat my hand. "Though you know, to me you'll always be that little girl in pigtails, running around the command deck with your toy starship."

The memory makes me smile despite myself. I remember those days - following him around like a shadow, pestering the crew with endless questions about how everything worked. He never once told me to stop or stay quiet.

"Dad..." My throat tightens with emotion.

"I know, I know." He chuckles. "You're all grown up now. But fathers are allowed their delusions."

Looking at him across the table, his uniform crisp and perfect as always, I'm struck by how lucky I am. Other military brats barely saw their parents, but Dad always made time for me. Even now, with all his responsibilities, he never misses our weekly lunch.

The guilt about Bruticus gnaws harder. But I push it away, focusing instead on Dad's warm smile and the love shining in his eyes.

The peaceful moment shatters as red wine splashes across Dad's face and uniform. The crimson liquid drips down his shocked features like blood.

"Murderer!"

The shriek pierces my ears as an elderly woman looms over our table, her empty wine glass trembling in her cybernetic hand. The metal appendage whirs and clicks with her violent movements.

"Security!" A waiter rushes forward. "Someone call security!"

My heart pounds as I take in the woman's appearance. Angry red scars crisscross what remains of her natural flesh. The left side of her face is entirely synthetic, the metallic plating dulled with age. Her organic eye burns with a hatred so intense it makes me recoil.

"He should die! Like my family died!" She lunges forward despite the staff trying to hold her back. "Do you know what he did? Do you know what kind of monster he is?"

Dad remains frozen, wine dripping from his chin onto his pristine uniform. I've never seen him look so pale.

"Ma'am, please." The ma?tre d' grabs her cybernetic arm. "You need to leave."

"Ask him about Rakura IV!" Her voice breaks. "Ask him about the civilians he sacrificed! The children!"

My stomach drops. Rakura IV. The same station where...where Bruticus's mother died.

"The blood of hundreds is on your hands, Commander Daniels!" She spits the words like venom. "Their screams haunt my dreams. Every night, I hear them burning!"

The security officers finally arrive, their boots thundering across the cafe floor. As they drag her away, her last words echo through the suddenly silent room:

"Your own daughter sits there, trusting you. Does she know what kind of butcher raised her?"

The ma?tre d' practically trips over himself apologizing. "Commander Daniels, I am so terribly sorry. Your meal is complimentary, of course. And we'll have your uniform cleaned-"

"No need." Dad waves him off with an easy smile, dabbing at the wine stains with his napkin. "Poor woman is clearly disturbed. These things happen."

His casual tone sends a chill down my spine. The father I know would be upset, maybe even angry. But this man before me shows no trace of emotion beyond mild annoyance.

"Should we call medical services?" The waiter hovers uncertainly. "She seemed quite unstable."

"Security will handle it." Dad's eyes track the woman as she's dragged toward the exit, struggling and screaming. Something dark and predatory flashes across his face - a look I've never seen before.

My stomach churns. In that moment, he reminds me of the stories they tell about Reapers - cold, calculating killers who feel nothing for their victims. But Bruticus has shown me those stories are lies. He feels deeply, passionately.

This stranger wearing my father's face... he feels nothing at all.

"Now then." Dad turns back to me, all warmth and charm once more. "Where were we?"

But I can't unsee that flash of cruel satisfaction in his eyes. Can't unhear the raw anguish in that woman's voice when she spoke of Rakura IV.

Maybe…maybe I should search for that name when I get home. But what will I find out?

And do I even want to know?