Page 90 of Star-Crossed Captive
She couldn’t trust anyone—except maybe the man holding her.
“Why do you go by Nia?”
A half-laugh puffed between her lips. “Wouldn’t you if your name was Euphenia?”
“My full name is Macedenia, and I don’t go by Nia.”
Shocked, she spun around as much as she could. “Really? That’s your full name?”
Humor crinkled his eyes. “No. Not really.”
On a disgusted exhale, she turned around again. “Not funny.”
“I thought it was a little funny.”
She shook her head, then turned her head to meet his eyes again. “Why do I only hear one name for Tellusians? Never a last name?”
“Tellusians only use one name. Long ago, it was to have a bit of anonymity from the authorities. We’ve stuck with it all this time.”
She faced forward again. It was a strange tradition to keep when anyone could be identified by genetic testing.
After a while, Mace cleared his throat. “When I first learned of your lineage, I did some research.”
Tension climbed through her body. “What did you find?”
“Your father is Bret Jannex fromJupiter One. He’s fifth in line for the Chancellorship, which makes you nineteenth.”
Pressure continued to build in her chest. “You know more than I do. I’ve never kept track.”
“And it was hard to find images of you,” he continued. “You don’t go to any of the events the rest of the ruling class seem to favor.”
She didn’t have an answer because it was true. She’d never enjoyed the opulence most ruling class children took advantage of on a regular basis.
“It got me wondering why a ruling class socialite served on a medical station during high conflict.” He kept his tone mild. “I would have thought you’d be gearing up for an administrator’s position in the Lunar colonies.”
Nia choked out a laugh. “You sound like my mother.” Then she shook her head. “I wouldn’t call myself a socialite. Politics isn’t my thing. I became a doctor to help people, not to sit in a cushy chair behind a desk. That’s what my mother wanted, not me.”
His arms gave her a gentle squeeze, and she sank into his chest. When he didn’t continue with his questions, she closed her eyes. Despite her sixteen-hour sleep, her mind needed to shut off. She dozed in and out of consciousness, between bad memories and fear for the future.
The front panel buzzed. Nia straightened to read the nav display. “That’s a CORE outpost.”
“I know the person in charge,” Mace said against her temple. “And I’m hoping they’ll be able to help. I need to send you home, Nia.”
Her stomach dropped. The words should have comforted her. Thoughts of home were the only things that kept her sane these past weeks…the only thing she’d wanted.
But after what had happened on the Guardian, she didn’t feel like the CORE was the safety net it once was. Those two men hadtorturedher when she’d already been forced to speak the truth.
Her tension didn’t ease as they neared the distinctive design of a deep space outpost, its conical shape bulging in the middle. Mace didn’t signal the station but flew underneath beside a docked shuttle. The outpost was too small for a shuttle bay but had docking clamps. The clamps grabbed on with a thud and a moment later, a docking tube descended to the canopy, the stars disappearing from sight.
The tube sealed, and as soon as the fighter indicated a stable connection, Mace retracted the canopy. A ladder descended.
Mace lifted her by her hips. “Climb on up.”
As soon as she entered the narrow construct of the tube, Mace elevated her so her foot could catch on the lowest rung. The memory of what had happened in the emergency shaft onOrionswept through her. Panic squeezed her chest. She heard the screams again, the thumping of the bodies hitting one another as they fell. She couldn’t move. Her breaths wedged in her throat.
Then Mace was there, his arm wrapping around her hips, face pressed in her lower back. “I’ve got you.” His body heat settled her. “One foot in front of the other.”
Swallowing around the asteroid in her throat, she did as he said, concentrating on the next rung, pushing the screams out of her head.
