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Before they leave the Aegis, Stinger takes Jupiter aside. All the fires have been put out, her cuts and bruises miraculously healed. Her sleeping family is still safely in storage several levels below. The only thing that remains is repairing the damage to her house and wiping the memories of any curious neighbors. She'd feel guiltier about that, but... it has been a really long day.
"You know what you're in for now?" Stinger asks in his blunt way.
"Not in the slightest," she tells him honestly. Caine meets her eyes from across the room, wordlessly checking in while he talks quietly with Captain Tsing. Jupiter gives him a tiny nod. Everything's fine here. Since they were pulled in from space, he hasn't let her out of his sight for more than a few minutes. It should be suffocating, but she'd be lying if she said she minded.
Stinger follows her gaze, expression uncomfortably knowing. "Aye. Well, you're in it for the long haul now. So tread carefully."
Jupiter nods, only half paying attention. Caine has left Captain Tsing with a handshake and is heading in their direction.
Stinger leans in and murmurs, "Just remember this. When you own something, you're responsible for it."
Jupiter drags her attention away from Caine, eyebrows lifting. "What are you—" she says, mildly puzzled. But then Caine is there and Stinger is stepping away to slap his back with a smile and a jovial, "Want to get out of here?"
Caine looks at her. "Your Majesty, are you ready to go home?"
And Jupiter really, really is.
The problem with going home again, is sometimes you can't. After the last members of the Aegis crew slip out the door, Caine watches silently as Jupiter walks around her newly rebuilt living room. Over here is the crack in the floor that always lets in a draft in the winter. Over there is the familiar chip in the plaster where she'd once thrown a glass at Vladie's head. This is the world she's stumbled into—technology that can seamlessly recreate every miniscule crack and flaw as quickly and easily as it can manipulate the cells in a human body.
"It even smells the same," she tells Caine absently, and has to sit down with a sudden head rush. When she looks up, he's kneeling in front of her.
"Hi," she says, helplessly glad and overwhelmed.
"Hi," he says, and lays a hand on her knee, comfortingly solid. She has a sudden flash of those same hands wrapped around her in mid-air—the sick feeling of falling suddenly arrested—and swallows hard.
"I think—I think it just hit me," she says. "We're alive. My family's alive. We made it."
Caine smiles. "And you are queen of the Earth."
"I'm queen of the Earth," she echoes. Then remembers: "And you are a skyjacker again."
Caine's smile fades slightly. He nods. "Titus Abrasax is a liar, but in this, at least, his word was true."
"Right." Jupiter takes a deep breath. "When does the legion expect you back?" Even after a few short days, the thought of him leaving feels like a punch to the gut.
"I haven't actually filed the paperwork yet," Caine says slowly. "But Jupiter—"
"I have a proposal for you," she interrupts, feeling the words bubble out of her. "I mean, only if you agree, obviously. But Captain Tsing said I could request anyone I wanted for my guard. And honestly, the fact that I'm even saying the words 'royal guard' at all is kind of insane. But once you've seen your mother nearly turned into immortality juice by a space sociopath, crazy kind of takes on a new meaning, right?"
Caine is openly frowning now. "Jupiter," he says again, but she steamrolls right past whatever he's about to say.
"It's just awkward, you know? I mean, I know we Earthlings tend to be oblivious, but if a bunch of aliens in uniform start following me around all the time, I think even my family might notice. And since you already know how to fit in..." she trails off, wincing internally. You could say many things about Caine, but a six foot Adonis with pointy ears on flying roller skates did not exactly blend.
Caine stares at her. "You... wish me to join your royal guard?"
"Just for a little while," she assures him hastily.
"A little while," he repeats, a strange expression on his face.
"Until I get used to this whole royalty thing." She forces a laugh. "I know there's probably loads more exciting places in the galaxy—"
"Jupiter," Caine says firmly, cutting into her rambling. "I'm not leaving."
Jupiter blinks at him. "My house?" She briefly imagines her mother's reaction to finding a strange man wearing leather sitting on the couch when she wakes up. It's quite a colorful reaction. Jupiter's imagination can be very loud.
Caine makes a frustrated sound. "You. I'm not leaving you."
"Oh," she says stupidly.
Caine takes a deep breath, then looks her deliberately in the eye. "Whatever happens next, whether I'm with the legion or not, I will stay by your side." He pauses, looking uncertain for the first time. "If you'll have me."
"Oh," she repeats, heart beating wildly; he can probably hear it, but she finds she doesn't care. Under ordinary circumstances, this would be when she opened her mouth and immediately inserted her own foot. Instead, after a pause, she finds herself calmly saying, "I'm going to kiss you now."
"I'm at Your Majesty's command," Caine answers, just as solemn, and her breath hitches. Which was probably why he said it in the first place, judging by the twitch of his lips.
"You're damn right," Jupiter murmurs, and leans down to keep her word.
Caine leaves for a few days to take care of his reinstatement with the legion. When he comes back, he has wings.
Jupiter gets a cryptic message to meet him at a baseball field down the street from her house and takes way too long doing her hair before she walks over, anticipation curling in her gut. A few kids are packing up their gear at the far end of the field when she arrives, but Caine is nowhere in sight.
A soft thump behind her accompanies a gust of wind, but when she turns, there's nothing there. Then suddenly, Caine's head pops out of thin air several feet in front of her. Jupiter jumps, barely suppressing a scream.
"Jupiter." He looks around furtively. "Over here." He waits until she walks over to him, then disappears back inside.
"Sure," she mutters to herself. "No big deal." Jupiter cautiously stretches her hand out and hits a solid wall near the space where Caine's head had been. "You know," she calls out. "When I was a little girl, I always wanted an invisible jet. I had to settle for Wonder Woman underoos instead." A woman walking her dog nearby gives her a strange look and begins walking faster. "Oops."
She trails her hand over the smooth side of the ship until she hits an opening. The woman has her back to her now and there's no one else around, so she takes a deep breath and quickly steps through. Instantly, the view of the field disappears, replaced by the interior of a small ship, only four seats and a tiny storage area.
"What's a wonder woman?" Caine asks from where he's standing by the control panel, a few feet away.
Jupiter starts to answer, but then her brain catches up with her eyes. "Oh my God," she breathes, taking the sight of him in.
Caine is dressed in an official looking uniform, sleeveless dark leather that shows off his tattoos. A pair of enormous, glistening black wings are folded against his back.
Jupiter's brain shorts out, just a little. When Stinger told her they'd both had wings, she tried to picture it, but then he explained her entire planet was a giant cattle car, and then more aliens had kidnapped her, and honestly, the next few days hadn't left very much time for contemplating what Caine getting his wings back would actually mean—part of her had been thinking of them as a metaphor, but they are real and they are magnificent. She feels an overwhelming urge to touch them, and clenches her hands into fists to keep from reaching out.
"Jupiter?" Caine's concerned voice eventually breaks through her shock. By the tone, it isn't the first time he's said it. "Are you all right?"
"You're beautiful," she blurts. "I mean they are. They're beautiful, Caine."
He ducks his head, lips pressed together in the small smile she's learned means he's pleased but trying not to show it.
"I mean it," she says, feeling emboldened. She reaches out a hand, giving into the urge, then pulls back at the last second. "May I?"
Caine meets her eyes. "You need never ask."
Jupiter swallows hard, mouth suddenly dry. The wings are impossibly soft when she runs her fingers gently over them. Soft, but strong. Caine shivers, and she asks, "Can you feel that?"
"Neural synaptic link," he says, voice a little rough. "Allows me to control them, adjust to wind pressure. Know when they're damaged."
She strokes her hand down the back of his right wing, feeling the silken tips of the feathers sift through her fingers. "Is that all they feel?"
Caine sucks in a breath. "No." The wings suddenly flare out, then close around her, pulling their bodies together. Jupiter laughs in delight as she stumbles against his chest, the soft feathers ruffling against her hair.
"Do they please you, then?"
"Yes," she says honestly. "They please me very much."
"Good," he says. "Then you'll like what else I have planned."
Flying, it turns out, is very different from falling. Jupiter leaps into the sky, laughing and screaming with the pure joy of it.
They circle each other, soaring through the clouds and the maze of skyscrapers until the sun begins to set. Caine moves through the air as if he was born to it, wings pumping and gliding with a powerful grace, a natural extension of his body. She can see now that for him, the anti-grav boots were just a pale imitation of this. But for her, they're more than enough. Freedom. Control. Everything she'd never felt before.
After, they sit on the ledge at the top of the Sears Tower, legs dangling over an impossible drop. The sun is nearly down, and the city below them has begun to light up, a thousand twinkling stars beneath their feet.
"So. Was this an acceptable Earth date?" Caine asks her. He sounds more awkward that she can ever remember.
The last date Jupiter went on had been cheap pizza and a movie with a guy whose name she couldn't even remember. They'd fooled around in the back seat of his car and then she'd never heard from him again. Before that had been a setup with the brother of one of Mikka's friends. They went out a few times, and then he told Mikka Jupiter was too bossy in bed. She hadn't considered it a great loss.
"More than acceptable," she assures him. "Superior, even. Wait—were you actually worried?"
Caine looks away, flushing slightly. "Kiza might have given me some advice," he admits.
Jupiter's eyes widen. "Oh, this I have to hear."
Caine shrugs, still not meeting her eyes. "She said I should pick you up."
Jupiter nods. "Usually guys pick me up in cars, not invisible spaceships. So extra points there."
"And that I should dress nicely."
She gives him a slow, lingering once over. "Definitely extra points there as well. What else?"
"She suggested a shared activity that would interest you. And afterward, we must discuss our hopes and dreams over food. Which reminds me..." He gets up and ducks into the ship, returning a moment later with an honest to God picnic basket and a blanket, which he lays out on the ground. Jupiter gapes for a moment, then swings her legs around to join him. When she lifts the lid, she finds crackers, cheese, grapes and wine, all neatly packed.
Caine watches her closely. "Kiza assured me that this was very romantic food." If she didn't know better, she'd say there was a hint of anxiety in his voice.
"It's perfect," Jupiter says, helplessly charmed, and leans over to kiss him. "It's the most perfect date I've ever been on."
Caine busies himself with opening the wine, the tips of his ears reddening slightly at the praise. "Hopes and dreams," he reminds her as he hands her a glass and pours one for himself.
Jupiter smiles to cover a sudden twist of anxiety lodging itself in her stomach. The truth is she has no idea what she's doing, no idea what she wants except to protect herself and her planet and the people she loves. And absolutely no plan for how to make any of that happen.
"First we have to toast," she declares, as a distraction. "That's another Earth tradition. Like this." She clinks her glass to his and says, "За твоё здоровье—that's how my mother would say it, at least."
Caine parrots her, bemused, then makes a face. "People drink this for fun on Earth?" He gives the glass a dubious look. "Has it gone bad?"
Jupiter bursts out laughing. "They say it's an acquired taste." She waits until he takes another tentative sip, then adds, "And you have to make eye contact when you do it, or you'll have seven years of bad sex."
Caine chokes, sputtering. "Why didn't you tell me that before I did it?" He's suddenly very interested in making eye contact.
"Because," she says, setting her wine glass on the ground, and swinging a leg over his hips to straddle him. Caine reflexively wraps his arms around her. "I have every confidence in your ability to overcome that curse," she murmurs against his mouth.
Caine's arms tighten; there's a sudden spark in his eyes. "Is that a challenge, Majesty?"
Her reply cuts off in a startled squeak as he flips her gently onto her back, leaning over her to nip a kiss across her jaw. "Caine," she laughs. "We're in public. Well, sort of."
He pulls back just enough to meet her eyes. "One thing Your Majesty should know about me," he tells her seriously, "I never back down from a challenge."
She smiles up at him. The edges of his wings brush against her thighs, a feathered curtain blocking out the sky. "Is that so?"
"Mmm," he agrees and lays a warm, heavy hand across the waist of her pants. "May I?"
Jupiter's pulse quickens. "Oh, yes," she breathes.
Caine smiles, quick and sweet, then sits back on his heels and undoes the complicated straps on her boots with practiced ease, removing them along with her socks in half the time it would have taken Jupiter. She wiggles her bare toes in relief, and he presses a kiss to her ankle.
"Don't," she says, a little light-headed. "God, I don't want to know what I smell like."
Caine looks amused. "My nose is much better than yours. I assure you I have no complaints."
He opens the front of her pants, and Jupiter obligingly lifts her hips up so he can strip them off of her; she quickly wriggles out of her shirt, balling up her clothes as a makeshift a pillow. The blanket is scratchy underneath her bare skin and the roof is hard, but Jupiter looks up at him and thinks there's no place she'd rather be right at this moment.
Caine slips a finger under the rim of her underwear and she shivers. "May I?" he asks again.
She nods, not trusting herself to speak, and Caines tugs her panties off, tossing them to the side without ceremony, then reaches up to unclasp her bra. The night breeze is warm, but she still gasps at the sudden exposure, goosebumps rising all over her body, nipples instantly hardening.
Caine gazes at her for a moment and she flushes, remembering this isn't the first time he's seen her naked. "At least I'm conscious this time," she says a little defensively and he chuckles, the tips of his canines peeking through his lips.
"Your Majesty is much more appealing conscious," he murmurs reassuringly before bending over to kiss her. Jupiter slides her arms around the back of his neck, wrapping her legs loosely around his waist, enjoying the feel of the leather against her skin, thrilling and just a bit dangerous. She's never done anything like this before.
Caine dots a line of kisses down her jaw and throat before leaning over to take her breast in his mouth, bracing his hands on either side of her. Jupiter slips a hand into his hair, tugging at the short strands, and he shudders, pulling back to make his way down her stomach until he's nuzzling at the inside of her thighs, soft bristles of his beard tickling against her skin. Jupiter's breath speeds up.
Abruptly he hikes her thighs up, and buries his face in her slick folds. "God," she gasps, and clenches her fingers involuntarily, pulling him tight and close. Caine lets out a muffled moan and obeys, licking inside, lapping hungrily until she's panting with need. He slips one finger in, then two—sliding in sweet and easy.
Jupiter's calves are hooked over his shoulders, and the bottoms of her feet brush against the soft feathers of his wings every time he moves. She moans and shifts restlessly against the blanket, pinching at one nipple with the hand not buried in his hair.
Caine's fingers curl, pressing in just right and Jupiter squirms, back arching, but he clamps his other arm across her lower belly, holding her down. Fingers still moving, he licks at her clit, flicking gently with his tongue, then suckling at it until she's bucking into his mouth.
Jupiter moans, high and breathy. "Oh," she gasps. "Don't stop—don't—" and then she's coming with a shout, thighs clamping down mercilessly around his head. Caine keeps his fingers buried in her as she pulses around them, sucking at her clit through the last tremors of her orgasm, until the stimulation is too much and she has to push him away with her foot.
He sits back on his heels, breathing hard, mouth appealingly swollen and red. Jupiter closes her eyes, panting, legs hanging limply on either side of him. After a moment, she feels the blanket shift as he crawls up beside her. He nuzzles lazily at her breasts, then her collarbone, then buries his face in the crease of her shoulder. Blindly, she strokes a hand through his sweaty hair, the feel of his leathers strange against her rapidly cooling skin.
After a few moments, she gropes her other hand down the waist of his pants. "You want—?" She stops in surprise, opening her eyes to peer down at the top of his head. "Did you just..."
"Yes," he murmurs, voice sleepy and content. "No need."
"Oh," she says, startled. That he'd come just from touching her. That he could be anywhere—literally anywhere in the universe right now—and he chose to come back to her, to stay on this rooftop, laying underneath the stars with her.
The breeze picks up and she shivers just a little. Caine's left wing unfolds until it's stretched over her body like a feathery—and surprisingly warm—blanket. "Well, Mr. Wise," Jupiter says finally, still a little breathless. "I can definitely say none of my others dates have ever ended like this."
"Good." He lifts his head up and kisses her, the taste of herself still fresh on his tongue. "Then the other men you've known were fools."
"Caine," she says, struck by a sudden horrible thought. "Are there rules about dating royalty in the legion?"
"Rules, Majesty?"
"I mean on Earth, you're not supposed to date your employees. The President's not allowed to date one of the troops." She's not actually sure about that last one, but it sounds right.
Caine lifts his head. "Jupiter," he says, looking at her like she's said something very dense, "you're royalty. That means there's very little you can't do. If you order me to shoot off my own foot, I'm bound to obey."
"That's horrible," she says, although she knows it's true, and moreover, that this is exactly why Caine hates most Royals.
"That's life." He lays his head back down, seeming remarkably unconcerned.
But when she's back in her own bed that night, Jupiter lays awake for a long time, thinking.
Caine gets a place close by, a loft with good sightlines, private roof access for flying, and the same heavy shielding that now protects Jupiter's own house. He wears a personal cloaking device that hides his wings, and exchanges friendly nods with his neighbors when they walk by.
Jupiter's worried it will all seem claustrophobic to him after the life of a mercenary, but when she asks him what his favorite planet is, he seems confused by the question. "The legion goes to places where there's trouble," he explains. "Not much time for sightseeing. I've never stayed anywhere long enough to miss it."
"That's… really sad, actually," Jupiter says, and launches a stealth campaign to show him everything Earth has to offer.
They discover Caine loves hot dogs and doesn't care for cheese. He has a massive sweet tooth but too much chocolate makes him sick. He hates wine, tolerates beer, and downs vodka like it's water.
"You think that tastes good?" Jupiter asks him, incredulously.
He shrugs and pours another shot. They're sitting on the floor of his penthouse because he doesn't have any furniture yet. "Reminds me of raslak—the drink of choice in the legion. It's not supposed to taste good. It's just supposed to get you drunk."
"Cheers to that, I guess," she says, lifting her glass, and laughs as he immediately leans down to stare intently into her eyes before touching his glass to hers. No one could accuse Caine of being a slow learner.
Jupiter takes him to a game at Wrigley that he enjoys—more for the novelty of a sport played entirely on the ground than anything—and a free concert at Millennium Park that he does not. ("It's just noise to me," he confesses after. "I can't hear what you do.") They spend a sunny Sunday meandering through the zoo, Caine telling her which animals he's seen versions of on other worlds, then describing creatures more fantastic than she could ever have imagined.
On movie night, he sits through half of Star Wars with a frown, shooting her increasingly puzzled glances. "What," she says finally, as Alderaan explodes.
"Nothing, it's just… this is what your people think space travel is like?" he asks, a little incredulously.
"Well, no. Not really. It's a fantasy." She looks at him curiously. "Don't you have those? Stories you just make up for entertainment?"
"Yes," he says. "But not like this. They're interactive, you manipulate the story."
Jupiter considers. "Sounds exhausting," she decides. "Don't people ever just want someone else to tell them how it ends?"
He eyes her. "I suppose it takes both kinds, Majesty. Those who want to tell, and those who want to be told."
Jupiter's cheeks heat. "Shh…" she tells him, and pops a handful a popcorn in her mouth. "They're about to meet the space princess."
Balem's will leaves his holdings to be divided among the remaining members of the Abrasax family, an oversight she's sure was only allowed because he'd never imagined in his wildest dreams that she might survive him.
It's blood money, all of it. And accepting it puts her into Kalique and Titus' crosshairs again. But Caine gently explains, "Your Majesty's sole asset is worth a great deal. And you would be able to borrow a great deal against it. But if you never intend to harvest—"
"I most definitely do not," she says.
"Then no bank will lend you funds."
Jupiter stares at him. "So what you're saying is I'm one of the richest women in the galaxy. But also completely broke."
He nods. "Essentially yes, Your Majesty."
Taking care of the Earth is already more responsibility than Jupiter quite knows what to do with. She's woken up from nightmares of the Aegis declaring her a fraud and Titus coming to to harvest the planet three times already this week. She sighs. "How much money, exactly?"
He tells her.
Jupiters stares. "Shut up."
In the end, she decides she has to go, even though it means faking the stomach flu to get out of work, and endless meetings with financial advisors and lawyers, because of course Kalique and Titus are contesting everything they can.
"You don't have to be afraid," Caine murmurs in her ear just before they step into the office of the Abrasax family lawyer. "If Titus looks at you funny, I'll rip his throat out."
And Jupiter hadn't been afraid, exactly, but that thought is a cheering one. "That shouldn't be as sexy as it is when you say it," she tells him, then straightens her spine: "Let's get this over with."
The lawyer's office is a large ornate set of rooms filled with heavy, expensive looking furnishings and the smell of old money. Both the Abrasax siblings are already waiting when Jupiter and Caine walk in.
"Jupiter!" Kalique approaches immediately, holding out her hands. "I am glad to see you here. Family must stick together in such trying times." Her hair is done up in intricate curls and she's wearing a flowing gown that seems more suitable to a ball than a funeral.
Jupiter smiles tightly, wondering how she could ever have been anything but revolted by these people. "Greed does tend to bring families together."
Kalique heaves a dramatic sigh. "Dear Balem could be difficult, I know. But he was still my brother."
Jupiter leans forward. "You know he murdered your mother, right? He told me, and then I hit him with a pipe. Really, really hard."
Kalique blinks, frozen; Jupiter can't tell if it's true surprise at the news or just at the fact that someone dared to admit it. She turns to Titus, who hasn't bothered to stand.
He meets her eyes with a lazy smirk. "I should thank you for that," he says. "But I'm afraid there's still some unfinished business between us."
"None that I care to revisit," she says primly. Behind her, a low, dangerous growl starts in Caine's throat.
Titus' eyes never leave Jupiter's. "Still alive, Mr. Wise? I do hope you're enjoying your pardon." Caine steps closer, baring his teeth. The rumbling growl is louder. "Jupiter, my dear, perhaps you should muzzle your dog if he can't act like a civilized being."
Jupiter flushes, not looking at Caine. "He's not a dog and I'm not his keeper."
Titus raises an eyebrow at Caine, smiling cruelly. "Oh, really? How unfortunate for him."
When Jupiter glances at Caine, confused, his face is completely blank. She frowns, opening her mouth—
"That's quite enough of that, gentlemen," a voice interrupts. Jupiter turns to see a tall, dark skinned woman in a suit standing in the doorway.
She's mostly human in appearance, but there's something strange about her eyes—it isn't until she's stepped around the other side of the desk that Jupiter realizes it's because her pupils are long and slitted, like a snake's. When Jupiter squints, she thinks she can see tiny scales where her skin should be.
"Welcome, Miss Jones," she says to Jupiter. "I am Ophidia Parsl, Esq. I have been overseeing the late Lord Abrasax's estate."
Titus waves an impatient arm. "Yes, fine. Shall we get this over with?"
In the end, she walks away with two more planets under her control—one that's barely been seeded, and one with a large population of beings she's never seen whose fate now rests in her hands—a pile of money sitting in a newly opened account, a flagship, and a significant portion of Abrasax Industries stock.
Caine is quiet on the way back.
"Everything all right?" she asks.
"Fine," he says.
"Look, I'm sorry about Titus," she tells him. "He's an ass."
"Yes," he agrees, not looking at her.
"Okay, then," she says, but there's a clawing uncertainty in her gut.
Jupiter's mother loves Caine. Her entire family does. Jupiter really should have seen this coming: he's tall and polite and he'll eat anything they put in front of him. And then there's the whole orphan thing. ("An orphan," the women all cluck in sympathy when she tells them this before he comes over for the first time. To be without family is a misfortune to be pitied above any other. Clearly, he must be in need of a mother. Or four.)
Uncle Vassily says he can tell Caine is a man who can take care of himself, which is the highest of praise. Vladie wants to drink with him and Moltka follows him around like an adoring puppy. The aunts aggressively try to feed him every time he sets foot in the door.
Instead of fearing her family won't accept him, Jupiter instantly worries they'll drive him off with their smothering affection. But Caine never rolls his eyes or complains. He sits and talks to Lyudmila for hours about the old country, lets Nino cook for him, helps her mother with the laundry, plays video games with Vladie, looking slightly bemused the entire time.
"They hover because they love you," he tells her when she finally pulls him aside to see if he's ready to run screaming.
"I know that," she says, because she does know it, and she's grateful for it even when it's making her crazy. "It doesn't mean they're not annoying."
He shrugs. "It's… nice."
"Nice," she says flatly. "Nino just made you give her a foot massage."
"They're your family," he says simply. As if that's all that needs to be said.
"Yes," she says, not really sure what she's even arguing anymore, except that she wants this relationship to work more than she's ever wanted anything before. "And that means that I have to put up with them. But you don't."
Caine sighs. "As Your Majesty wishes," he says quietly, and Jupiter suddenly feels as if maybe she's missed something. Something important.
"Caine—" she starts, but Moltka's calling from the other room and he slips away before she can finish.
She's still standing there, watching as he helps Moltka set the table, when her mother steps up besides her, slipping an arm around her waist. "That boy of yours? He's a keeper, Jupiter," she says, following Jupiter's gaze.
"I know, mama," Jupiter says thoughtfully. "Believe me, I know."
The problem with being a secret space princess is suddenly she has the chores and responsibilities of two lives, but only gets credit for one. Every minute of Jupiter's day that isn't cleaning strangers' houses is suddenly filled with catching up on the million things she needs to learn in order to function in her new world. It makes her sloppy.
"What are you doing?" Vladie asks when he catches her squinting wearily at the royal Ways and Means commission for the third night in a row. Galactic tort reform is more interesting than it sounds, and she finds herself easily lost in the minutiae of legal loopholes and history.
"Studying," she replies absently, and then immediately realizes her mistake.
Vladie laughs incredulously. "Studying? You?"
"Keep your voice down," she hisses, but it's too late.
"Jupiter, what's this about studying?" her mother calls from across the room.
Which is how she ends up explaining to her entire family that she's enrolled in an online Associate's degree program to become a paralegal, which has the dual benefits of containing a small grain of truth and also leaving her with a handy excuse to take more time to herself when she needs it.
"Jupiter," her mother says, looking pained. "You know what we cannot afford that..."
"It's all right, mama," she says, hastily. "I'll take care of it. I've got some money—"
Everyone at the table sits up straight. "Not from selling your eggs again!" Nino says, glaring at Vladie.
"No! No, just a little money I saved. And the school is giving me aid."
Vladie makes a face. "Why would they do that? You were a terrible student."
Uncle Vassiley glares at him. "Your cousin has always been very smart."
"She just never applied herself," Jupiter's mother agrees, although she still looks a little dubious.
"Right," Jupiter says, relieved. "Well, I am applying myself to tax law now." She's surprised at how right the lie feels.
They're leaving a meeting with her financial advisor on Orous when Jupiter catches sight of a furtive man with a mole face watching her from across the crowded corridor.
"Caine," she murmurs. He'd been distant—though perfectly polite—for the past few days, but as soon as they stepped foot off world, he'd been glued to her side. Jupiter couldn't help but enjoy it.
"I see him. Stay close." He picks up his pace, moving between her and the stranger. They pass down the hallway into a lounge area. Caine's eyes rove around the open space. "We're exposed here. But it's too public to try anything." He taps his communicator. "Stringer, we're on our way. Possibly with company."
"Titus?" she asks quietly.
Caine takes her arm, steering her around a slow moving group of executives in suits. "I don't know. It would be sloppy of him. But perhaps he's just that desperate."
They make it to the lift shaft that leads back to the dock where they'd left Stinger with the ship a little over an hour ago. Caine pulls her to him before stepping into the anti-gravity field, his back shielding her from the corridor they just left. Jupiter clutches at his sleeves and closes her eyes as they shoot upward in a dizzying rush. Even at a more controlled pace, these lifts remind her too much of the endless, careening fall through Balem's space station. It's a relief to step out at their level, no one exiting the lift behind them.
"Almost there," Caine tells Stinger through the comms. Jupiter lets out a breath as their small ship comes into view.
And then a figure emerges from the shadows of the hanger. She jerks to a halt as Caine throws an arm out in front of her, wings flaring as he turns to face him.
"That's close enough," he calls, the threat clear in his tone even without his hand on his gun. On the other side, Stinger emerges from the ship, his own weapon drawn and pointed straight at the stranger.
The man raises his hand to show they're empty. As he comes into the light, she can see that he has the same mole-like features of the one she'd seen earlier.
"Your Majesty, I assure you, I mean you no harm," he says, whiskers twitching and eyes darting between all three of them. "My name is Talpa Thorax. I believe we share some mutual interests. And enemies."
Jupiter exchanges a quick look with Caine, the first time he's met her eyes in days. After a moment, she shrugs and gestures at the ramp of her ship. "Then I guess you'd better come on board, Mr. Thorax."
It turns out Talpa and his compatriots are members of a resistance group working to stop the harvests. "When we heard you'd ordered a stop to the harvests on your worlds, we suspected you might look on our cause with sympathy," he explains once he's been searched for weapons.
Caine sniffs at him suspiciously. "He's telling the truth, Your Majesty," he admits, though he doesn't look happy about it.
"Quite," Talpa says officiously. "My organization has been mounting a series of legal challenges designed to hamper the Regenx industry and create legal precedents for its eventual demise. What we've lacked, until now, is a sponsor of sufficient rank to make a bolder move."
"What kind of move?" Stinger asks.
"Tax reform," Jupiter says, and all three of them turn to stare at her as if they'd forgotten she was there. She clears her throat nervously. "As royalty, I can propose changes to the tax code. A levy on any products derived from human flesh." The thought had been brewing in her mind for a while now. It would be tricky, but she'd studied enough of the tax code to see where there were loopholes just crying out to be exploited. She turns to Talpa. "Isn't that right?"
Talpa stares. "Exactly correct, Your Majesty," he says slowly. "We believe there's a case to be made, but lacking any support among the nobility, we've not been able to make any progress."
"Majesty," Stingers cautions. "There's a reason no one will touch this. It would paint a target on your back with some very powerful people—"
"She's made up her mind," Caine interrupts quietly, and Jupiter turns to him in surprise. "Haven't you?" he says, looking at her.
"Right," she says slowly, and feels more certain by the second. "I guess I have."
Stinger sighs. "Then we better get ready. Because they'll be coming for her."
The problem with knowing something's coming, but not when, is it's impossible to maintain the same level of alertness indefinitely. Five days after Jupiter introduces her tax reforms, she's walking through the grocery store with Caine, arguing about what kind of fruit to buy, when every cell in her body bursts into flame. Jupiter doesn't scream, but only because she can't even breath through the pain. Vaguely she hears a commotion, shouting in the background. Her vision whites out for a moment, muscles seizing, and then—
And then, abruptly it stops.
A minute could have gone by. Or an hour. She slowly returns to consciousness with the sensation of pins and needles all over her body, nausea curling in her gut. When she opens her eyes, she finds herself on a bed on the cruiser she inherited from Balem, heavily armed and usually cloaked as it orbits around the Earth.
She tries to sit up and groans as her headache makes its displeasure known.
"Easy," Stinger says from beside her, and she painstakingly turns her head so she can see him. His face is grim but calm, and some of the tension in her body instantly relaxes. "You're all right."
"What?" she croaks after a moment.
"It was a molecular probe, attuned to your DNA. Very deadly, but Caine disrupted it before it could do any permanent damage."
"Caine…" she casts her eyes around the stateroom, empty but for the two of them. "Where—?"
Stinger reads her mind. "He's off tracking the signal now. We thought it prudent to move Your Majesty to a more secure location in the meantime."
"My family?"
"Safe, and under guard."
She lets out a breath of relief. "Good. That's good. Thank you."
"Just you rest now, Your Majesty. The effects will wear off in a bit."
She nods, already feeling the lure of sleep pulling her in. "Caine," she says, as her eyes flutter closed. "You should go help him."
Stinger huffs out a laugh. "Your Majesty didn't see him when he brought you in. We'll just be lucky if there's anything left of the assassin when he finds him."
The ship had been Balem's, so of course it has a ridiculously ostentatious throne room. Jupiter usually avoids the place because it's creepy and horrible, much like its former master. But when Caine sends word he's coming in with the man who ordered her attack, she thinks it's finally time to put it to use.
Jupiter dresses in the most regal attire Kiza could drum up: a red gown that flows in a circle around her feet like a bloody wave, and does her hair in elaborate ringlets. When Caine's ship comes into range, she seats herself on the enormous, uncomfortable throne, feeling a bit like a little girl play acting.
But then he bursts into the room like an avenging angel, eyes wild; her breath catches at the sight of him, and it takes her a moment to realize he's dragging his cargo: a thin, well-dressed man with short dark hair and an arrogant expression. Jupiter dislikes him immediately, and feels her nerves steel.
Caine sweeps his eyes over her, assessing, and she gives hims a reassuring nod. "Your Majesty," he says, bowing. "Opim Pravus. Youngest son of the Pravus Conglomerate. He ordered your death." He shakes him by his collar and throws him at her feet. "May I kill him?"
Pravus glares up at her. He's young looking, but of course that means nothing with people like this. "Control your dog, Seraphi," he spits.
Any remaining uncertainty boils away under an icy fury Jupiter didn't know she possessed. Caine's face is impassive, watching her. She stands very deliberately. "My name is Jupiter. And I assure you, if my dog rips out your throat, it will be because I want him to." Caine smiles, slow and mean.
Pravus looks back and forth between them, face going pale. "You wouldn't. The Aegis—"
"Statute thirty-eight, article four point one," Jupiter recites in a bored tone. "Any attack against a royal person can be met in kind, provided there's sufficient proof." She looks at Caine. "Do we have such proof?"
He kicks Pravus flat on his stomach, holding him down with a foot on his back when he tries to rise. "A sworn confession from the man he hired to do the job." He pauses. "He was ordered to kill your family next, to keep them from inheriting." Jupiter's heart skips a beat, and then she's stalking forward, red hot rage flowing through her.
Pravus splutters from his place on the floor. "You're mad. The word of a common murderer would never stand up in court."
"We have bank records from the transfer of funds," Caine continues, and Pravus' struggles become frantic.
"That's still not enough. You do this and they'll come after you next!"
"Maybe," Jupiter says, crouching down and pulling his head up by his hair. He hisses at the awkward angle. "But it might be worth my day in court just to send a message to all your little friends."
A shudder of terror ripples through him. Jupiter would feel bad, but she remembers the feeling of her guts being ripped from her body, remembers the sight of a needle a centimeter away from her mother's skull. These people have to be dealt with in a way they can understand.
"Let me be clear," she says icily. "If any of you come after me or my family. If you send anyone to my planets, I will send my dog after you. And he will find you no matter where you hide, or how many guards you put around yourself." Caine grinds his boot into Pravus' back, and he moans, high and terrified. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," he grits out. "I understand."
"Good." She rises to her feet, feeling suddenly every bit the queen she's been pretending to be. It's a good feeling. "Call the Aegus," she tells Caine. "Tell them we have a present for them."
Caine bows again. "Your Majesty." His eyes meet hers and a sense of rightness flows over her like a the last piece of a puzzle, fitting into place.
Later, when they're alone in her quarters, she watches him carefully as she says, "I'm sorry about before. I mean, I didn't mean—"
"You were right to show your strength, Majesty," Caine says without hesitation. "It's the only thing people like these truly understand. If they know that you control me, it only improves your position." He pauses, then meets her eyes directly. "Besides, I liked it."
Jupiter feels very warm. "You—oh," she says. "You did?"
He bows his head. "I did, Your Majesty. They should know that I am yours."
Jupiter's breath speeds up. She licks her lips, watching Caine's eyes track the movement, and comes to an abrupt decision. "In that case, I need you to do something for me."
"Anything, Majesty."
"Take off your clothes."
Caine ducks his head, lips twitching. "As Your Majesty wishes."
He slips off his jacket and then his shirt, wings flaring behind him once free from the confines of the clothing. Jupiter sucks in a breath at the sight, startled all over again by his beauty.
Caine smoothly kneels to remove his boots and pants, standing naked and unselfconscious before her. "Do I please Your Majesty?"
Jupiter takes her time, walking around him in a slow circle, trailing a hand across the muscles of his stomach, the curve of his hip bone, the tips of his wings. He's already half hard. "Very, very much so," she says finally, coming to stop before him.
Caine shivers.
"Lay on the bed," she tells him softly.
He wordlessly lays down on his back, wings spread out behind him, striking against the white sheets. Jupiter follows, heart beating very fast. She kneels beside him and stops for a moment, looking her fill. Caine's face is calm, but his stomach is moving in and out rapidly. She takes hold of him and strokes, feeling him harden fully under her hand.
"So beautiful," she murmurs, and Caine's mouth falls open slightly, pupils dilating.
She hikes up the skirt of her dress and straddles him, the silken fabric rustling as she rubs herself against his hard length. She feels greedy for him, wanting. Caine groans and reaches a hand up to palm her breasts where they're straining against the low cut halter top of her dress. Jupiter gently slaps his hands away. "No touching."
She takes both of his wrists and raises them above his head, then reaches under her skirts to rub at the wetness there, rising up slightly to take him inside of her. It's a stretch, but a good one, and she sits back for a moment, adjusting to the size of him. Caine lays still, mouth parted, arms still raised where she put them.
Jupiter rises up and slides slowly back down his length, feeling every inch of him filling her. She braces a hand against his chest, then bends to take his nipple in her mouth as she rides him, slow and deep. Caine grunts, hips jerking, and she tsks, "Stay still now." When he obeys, she murmurs, "good boy," and watches in fascination as he trembles, the tips of his ears flushing pink.
She leans forward and takes hold of both his wrists in a loose grip, sweat collecting in the hollow of her breasts and the base of her neck, sliding down the silk of her dress. He could break free at any time, but they both know he won't. She could order him to hold his arms there for days and he would.
"You're mine?" she says, grinding her hips in a circle. She cups her other hand around his throat—not squeezing, just holding lightly, feeling his pulse thump wildly against her palm.
"Yes," he gasps. "Yes."
"Mine to keep," she says, "forever," and Caine groans, head rolling. "Mine to care for," she whispers against his mouth, and kisses him, wet and deep. Caine gasps. "Don't come yet," she warns him, and he pants and nods, nails digging into his palms.
Jupiter sits back and reaches a hand under her skirts to rub at her clit, rolling her hips as she takes in the sight of him laid out before her, chest heaving but otherwise obediently still. It's too much, and she moans, coming hard, her orgasm abruptly rolling over her in a great pulsing wave. She falls forward onto his chest, shudders wracking through her body, trembling thighs aching.
"Now," she murmurs, and his hips snap once, twice, and then he's flipping them over. Jupiter cries out at the change in angle and brings her knees up around his waist, bunched up skirts pooling around her stomach and thighs. Caine thrusts wildly, no rhythm or control, mouthing at her neck; she brings her arms around to cradle the back of his head, gasping, "Come, I want you to come for me now," and he groans into her throat and does as he's told.
Later, as they're lying in the dark, she tells him sleepily, "Promise you'll ignore it if I ever order you to do something you don't want to do."
She feels the bed shift as Caine turns to face her. "What?"
She flushes, though he can't see her. "Not an order. I would never—I mean… just don't feel like you're obligated to cut any body parts off on my say so, okay?"
He's silent for a long moment. "Are you ordering me not to accept your orders?" There's a certain amount of amusement in his voice.
"Yes!" she says. "I mean, no! I'm not ordering you at all. I'm just saying, you shouldn't feel like you have to be with me just because that's what I want."
"Ah," he says, and pauses, as if feeling out his words carefully. "You cannot order devotion, Majesty," he says finally. "Or love. Such things can only be freely given." He pulls her snug against his chest. "That's why you need never worry whether my loyalty is true."
Jupiter smiles in the dark. "Good answer."
"I think Caine and I are sort of married," she tells Stinger, listening to the comforting hum of the bees as she sits on the rickety steps of his front porch. He's finally repairing the broken railing while Caine and Kiza are out getting food for dinner. It's a warm Sunday summer afternoon, she has the day off, a glass of cold lemonade, and no one is trying to kill her—at least not at the moment. The tax reforms are still in committee and she's not naive enough to think another attempt won't be coming. But Jupiter's got a man that she loves and a world to protect and a plan for both. Life is good.
Stinger grunts, hammering another nail into the board he's holding. "You just figure that out now?"
She shrugs, watching the swarm shift to follow her movement. "Sometimes it takes me a while to catch on."
The problem with owning something is suddenly it becomes your responsibility to take care of it.
"Can we do something about global warming?" she asks one day after watching a sad documentary about sad polar bears who just want to fish and sleep and mate in peace, except the ground keeps melting out from under them. Jupiter can relate.
"Of course," Caine says, as if she'd asked him to pass the salt instead of drastically alter the environment of an entire planet. He hesitates. "But if you do, no one will understand why it's happening."
"They'll think they were wrong," she realizes. "All the scientists. And the ones who never believed it was happening will be vindicated. And nothing will change."
"Without declaring her title, Her Majesty's options are limited."
Jupiter thinks about that for a minute. "Well, I don't accept that," she says, and Caine's face does that complicated thing it does when he's smiling but trying not to.
"I did not think you would."
This marks the beginning of Operation Polar Bear, a complex web of manipulations and deceit designed to flood the market with clean energy options and reduce global emissions while simultaneously repairing the damage done to the Ozone layer to make it look like the latter is solely the result of the former. Jupiter's rather proud of it.
"It will take many years, doing it this way," Caine warns her as she looks over the initial reports.
It's past noon on a Sunday but they're still in bed because Jupiter has declared Sundays to be Official Days Off, and if she's going to work on her day off, then she feels strongly she should get to wear yoga pants and look at Caine's bare chest while she does it. Later, there might even be making out.
Right now, she contents herself with wrapping a hand around the back of Caine's neck and giving it a gentle tug. He goes easily, laying his head on her lap. When she trails her fingers across his scalp, his eyes close with a barely perceptible shiver.
"That's all right," she says. "We've got time."