#swtor oc: mairen bel iblis

[andveryginger]

In working with these idiots yesterday in a different ‘verse, it occurred to me that I’d never posted this gorgeous shot of my lovely Mairen and @keldae‘s Reanden on their wedding day. The fic is still in progress, but I definitely wanted to share @meonlyred‘s glorious work. =D

[chenria]

Commission for the amazing @andveryginger of her beautiful Mairen Bel Iblis and @keldae‘s Reanden Taerich - I felt so honored to do some sort of wedding portraits for their SWtOR sweethearts ♥

I hope I did them justice. 

[andveryginger]

SWTOR Fic: Double Duty

Title: "Double Duty"

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic (Drastic Measures AU)

Author: Ginger

Pairing: Imperial Agent/Jedi Shadow (Reanden Taerich/Mairen Bel Iblis)

Rating:T

Summary: ”You’re not a spymaster,” Marcus Trant muttered. “You’re a damned matchmaker!”

Notes:

The idea for this has been rattling around in my head since the Fictober list dropped. The prompt, “I might just kiss you” certainly grabbed the attention of the two assholes. Unfortunately, Real Life™ has been a total bitca and I’m just now settling in to do a little writing in between some embroidery commissions.

Theoretically takes place sometime in some future version of @keldae‘s DMverse, where the Alliance is established on Odessen, with Ardun Kothe having stepped in as spymaster because Spyboy Theron has his own operational duties. Marcus Trant has apparently been forced to depart Coruscant for an as yet undisclosed reason. Mai and Reanden have -- of course -- been snarking at each other for months. More recently, however, Ardun has noted a change between the two...

Many thanks to @keldae for letting me play in the sandbox. You can have Reanden back any time. Really.

“...I have all the particulars on your identities here --” Ardun Kothe stopped, frowning as he bowed his head over his datapad. “Damn it. Grabbed the wrong one,” he said. He looked up to his agents: former Imperial operative, Reanden Taerich, and Green Jedi, Mairen Bel Iblis. “Excuse me -- and ah, try not to kill each other while I’m gone, hm?”

Reanden watched his old friend disappear into the corridor, door sliding closed behind him. He cut Mairen a wicked grin. "I might just kiss you..."

"Might?" The red headed Jedi raised her brows briefly, expression shifting quickly to a smirk. "Be still my beating heart."

His lips quirked sideways in response. "We're supposed to be married, darling," he said. He took two steps forward, narrowing the gap between. "I should be making your heart race."

Her gaze darted involuntarily -- and almost imperceptibly -- to his lips. But Taerich was a student of body language. It’s a tell he noticed, and one she knew she telegraphed. She cocked her head to one side, mischief sparking through green-hazel eyes as she folded her arms across her chest. She didn’t otherwise move. "I suppose, darling," she drawled, "I'll simply have to fake it."

"Fake it?" Reanden stepped closer. "If you must, I suppose. Though perhaps a bit of rehearsal might be needed."

Amusement mixed with the impish gleam in her eyes. "Just so I'm prepared, hm?" Her lips twitched. "Seems I've heard that song and dance before."

At this, Reanden raised his brows, left disappearing under the lock of hair that flopped diagonally across his forehead. "And here I thought Jedi led more sheltered lives. Or so your dear uncle led me to believe."

"My dear uncle has no idea," Mairen replied with a roll of her eyes. "I trained as an operative, Taerich. That required no small amount of... adjustment. Thankfully, my training officer was more than happy to oblige."

His brows arched higher. "Well, so Kothe wasn't always buttoned-up and all business, hm?" He pursed his lips, his own gaze flitted toward her lips. He covered by making a show of looking her over. "And good taste, too."

"Honestly, Taerich," she said. "You're off your game if you think that is flattering." Leaned against the conference table, she shifted a bit, despite herself. Recovering, she gave a wry grin. "At least I know Ardun cares."

"Present tense?" He stepped closer. Warmth radiated between them, as well as an undercurrent of energy that seemed to shadow their interactions of late: a mix of frustration and amusement and irritation and... something else that could prove dangerous. Neither will admit it, but both struggled to keep breathing steady and even. "I'd hate to step on any toes. Professional courtesy, and all that."

Mairen shook her head. "Long since over, if you must know," she answered. "Friends now -- colleagues, too." She glanced down, then back up. "The only toes you're about to step on... are mine.

"Then I suppose I should stop.” His eyes flashed and he swept gently forward with his foot, slipping the toe of his boot the narrow space between her own.

The Jedi arched her left brow sharply. When he didn’t retreat, she shifted to sit on the conference table, widening the gap between her legs. She unfolded her arms, hands coming to rest on either side of her hips.

Gaze holding hers as he stepped into the space, her inner thighs embraced his quads through the fabric of their trousers. He could see the slight flare of her nostrils, knew his were doing the same. Hands curled over the curve of her hip; his lips hovered millimeters away as he spoke: "Should I stop?"

“A little rehearsal,” Mairen replied slowly, “might be just what the agent ordered."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Taerich sealed his lips over hers. The connection was at first like their conversation: firm, assured, almost taunting. She was, after all, calling his bluff -- matching his brazen attitude with her own. But then his hands drifted up, framing her face as the kiss deepened. Her hands came to rest on his biceps, tugging him closer as she shifted her hips toward his. Around them, the room faded. Their focus narrowed to little more than each other and the current that seemed to flow through them as they explored new territory.

Breaking away abruptly, Reanden dropped his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. Opening them again a moment later, his hazel eyes regarded her, pupils blown. His chest rose and fell quickly, and he swallowed between breaths. He rested his forehead against hers. “Kriffing Hells,” he panted. “Wondered what that was going to be like.”

Her laugh was abbreviated, hindered by her own short breath. “Me, too.” Mairen tightened her grip on his arms briefly. “Now I’m wondering about a lot of other things.”

He chuckled. “Me, too.” There was a long exhale, then he drew back and looked toward the door. “We’ve got to get out of here. Kothe will be back, and we are in no condition for the rest of that mission brief.”

The Corellian Jedi nodded. “Maybe, but…” She licked her lips, brow creasing in thought. “...that mission will get us out of here. And, as you so helpfully pointed out, we’re supposed to be married -- or at least our cover identities are. I can’t think of a better excuse to… satisfy some of that curiosity? Especially since we’ll have quite a bit of downtime after the drop.”

Reanden gave a lopsided grin. “I like the way you think,” he replied. “The only problem I have at the moment is I’d rather just satisfy that curiosity -- right here and now.”

“Force, Taerich,” she hissed. Her hands tightened on his arms. She then pushed him away, employing a small amount of assistance from that same energy she’d just taken in vain. Reanden landed heavily in the chair to her left. The want in her green hazel eyes reflected his own as she looked to him. “Later.”

A split second and the durasteel panel slid open once again. Kothe entered much as he’d departed, eyes fixed on the datapad in his hands. “And this should cover it,” he said as he made his way toward them. “I’m uploading the data to your ship, Reanden -- it’ll be best employed for this one. You can study your covers en route.”

The former Imperial nodded, crossing his legs, casually interlacing his fingers in his lap. “I --” He paused, clearing his throat. “I’ll make sure she’s prepped and ready to depart as soon as possible.”

Kothe nodded. “Good.” He looked to Mairen and blinked. “You all right, Mai? You look a little flushed.”

“Yes, well…” Mairen cleared her own throat, glancing to Reanden, then back to her old friend and colleague. “We had a few choice words while you were gone. I… think we’ve settled it. For now.”

Again, the senior agent nodded. “This is practically a milk run, but the last thing I want is for you two and your sniping at each other to compromise the mission. Understood?”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem.” Reanden pushed himself to standing, flashing a wink at Mairen as he did so. He picked up his jacket from the table, holding it at his waist. He then looked toward her. “Meet you in the hangar in ten?”

“Ten minutes. Got it,” Mairen replied. She slipped off the conference table to her own feet, shifting her attention to Kothe. “See you on the other side, old friend.”

“As always.”

Kothe stood watching as the two beat a hasty retreat from the room.

From the opposite door behind him, Marcus Trant entered, also watching as the two agents hurried away. He gave a long, slow whistle, leaning against the podium at the front of the room. "Those two," he drawled, "are like detonite."

Picking up the small surveillance device, a disc about the size of a credit chip, Kothe chuckled. "Ready to blow at the lightest spark?" Trant nodded. "You're not wrong... and it's exactly the reason I'm sending them on this meet. We don't want them anywhere nearby when they finally get their drutash together."

Trant shook his head. "I thought she hated him."

"She did." The former Jedi looked up at his colleague, hint of a smirk ghosting across his lips. "Or rather, she hated her perception of him -- one fed to her for decades by her uncle... who, as we both know, has his own reasons for bias." The smirk finally stuck. "Turns out the reality is a bit more complicated."

"So it would seem." Marcus shifted, gaze following Kothe as he moved about the room, gathering datapads and tapping controls on the console integrated into the table. A crease formed in his brow. "Mairen's not exactly known for fooling around, Ardun."

Kothe nodded, once. "I'm more than aware," he said. His voice was a low rumble, rueful tone evident in his words. "He's the first to spark such a... passionate... reaction from her since -- well, in a long while.”

Since you, Marcus supplied silently. "But... Taerich?" he asked. "He's a remarkable agent and an old friend, but... well, his issues have issues. You know that as well as I do."

"And Mai -- Mairen -- isn't without her own baggage," Kothe began. "But I've seen -- and heard -- how miserable he is, Marcus. That banter between them is the liveliest I've seen him outside of an op in...also in a long time."

“Same.” Trant grimaced. He shook his head. “He’s been an absolute disaster since Airna died. Kept it from the kids well enough, I guess; even from me, for the most part. The past few years, he’s pretended to have it together -- and actually has -- for missions. I’ve pretended not to notice when he drops off the radar afterward.”

“Binging?”

The former director of SIS nodded once. “Not unlike you, after… well, after. But you climbed out of the bottle. He keeps finding his way back in.”

“A popular diversion, but not a coping mechanism.” Kothe offered a rueful smile. “She’s a good balance for him -- not afraid to call him out on his bantha shit, like Airna. He needs that. If this works -- and that’s a big if -- it might help.”

Marcus regarded his colleague for a long moment, lips pursed as he chose his words carefully. He shifted his weight between his feet, picked at the veneer on the podium. “You two have something of a history,” he said. “You’re okay with her and the old bastard?”

“Mai and I,” Kothe began, “are friends. Have been since she left Corellia.” He placed his datapad onto the conference table. Leaning against it in a manner that he had seen the Green Jedi herself do earlier, he folded his arms across his chest. “We can’t go back, and I don’t know that either of us wants to. I just want her to be happy. And I want that old bastard to be happy, too.”

Trant sighed, then gave a snort of laughter, shaking his head. “You’re not a spymaster,” he said. “You’re a damned matchmaker.”

At this, Kothe laughed. “Not the spymaster anymore -- or I won’t be when you step up,” he replied. “Seems to me, I’m left at loose ends.”

“Doesn’t make you the morale officer.”

“True. Hylo might not like me honing in on her territory.”

Shaking his head again, Marcus pushed himself to his feet. “C’mon,” he said, beckoning with a wave of his left hand, “and let me buy you a drink. Got a bottle of Whyren’s in the stash.”

The former Jedi fell into step next to his friend, pausing only long enough to secure the conference room. “Hope you’ve got more than one bottle in there, old friend,” he said. “With those two, we’re gonna need a steady supply.”

“With those two, we might as well buy the distillery…”

[andveryginger]

Overgrown

Staunchly trying to avoid the Piranha Angstfest going on, I ended up with something a bit... bittersweet. It’s an idea that’s been on the back burner for a while, and this just seemed appropriate.

Carefully descending the ladder, Mairen Bel Iblis took a step back and admired her handywork. The deep green vines with delicate blue-violet flowers had been unkempt, laying forgotten at the back of a market stall. It was the scent that first caught her attention: Soft and lilting, somehow overcoming the scent of fried cakes and stale brew that always lingered. She remembered it well, memories swirling to the surface -- of training in the courtyard with her father; of being chased by her little sister, tiny hands coated in chocolate from an earlier snack; of her first kiss, an awkward occurrence with her training officer that was complicated, at best. It had been these vines -- or rather, ones very like these -- had adorned the exterior walls of their home in Coronet. How such a thing had found its way to Rishi, she would never know. Kneeling beside the neglected plant, however, she’d then felt a gentle nudge from the Force.

She reached out and gently traced a velvety petal with her fingers.

These blooms had been meant for her.

Negotiating a price far below market value, Mairen returned back to the small apartment with not one, but two containers of the flowering vines. She’d been thankful that her fiance had vacated to Coruscant for the day, attending to some debrief or other at headquarters. He’d have given her endless hell for the mess. As she stood there, looking at them sprawled over the wooden decking, she wondered, too, if she’d made a mistake. But no, there were reasons -- as yet unclear -- she ended up with the plants. It was up to her to make it work.

Armed with gloves, snips, and allowing the Force to guide her, she took a deep breath and plunged ahead. A few hours disappeared in the blink of an eye; potting soil, weeds, dead branches, and other detritus scattered around her like a halo, along with the old planters. She saw to it that all had been disposed of before she went to hang the vines in their new home. They now adorned each side of the balcony exit, seated securely against the ledges. It was only as she stood there, admiring her handywork, that time seemed to re-engage.

“Mai?”

A warm smile curved her lips, affection radiating through her. “On the balcony!”

She watched as Reanden Taerich padded through the living room, his expression an echo of hers. As he neared the doorway, however, a furrow flickered over his brow. It was still creased as he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. “What are you doing out here?”

“A little decorating.” Mairen nodded, indicating the vines that now draped over the stucco walls. “They’re a cousin to the candlewick flower, I think. Genetically altered, of course, because, well, Corellia and we couldn’t just leave something so Alderaanian.”

The silver-haired agent turned, gaze falling onto the vines. He swallowed visibly. “I… thought I smelled them, as I came through,” he said. His voice was thick, heavy with emotion, as was his Force signature. “Wh --” He paused, clearing his throat. “Where did you find them?”

“A little stall in the market. They just… called to me. I remember Mum and Da had them all over the walls, at home in Coronet.” Mairen reached out, smoothing her hand over the nape of his neck. “Are you all right, love?”

“Airna grew them on Lavisar -- on the back of the house.” He offered her a lopsided, bittersweet smile curving his lips, eyes somewhat glassy. “They reminded her of home.”

Mairen felt again the slightest nudge from the Force. “I’m sorry, love,” she said. “I can take them down --” She moved toward the ladder.

He shook his head, reaching to catch her hand as she made to step away. “No… I mean, unless you want to. I know we’re trying to make a new start, and…” He sighed. “I could see how it might be awkward.”

“Oh, love.” Mai closed the distance between them. “She was your wife, Reanden; the mother of your kids. She will always be part of you and part of them.” Reaching up, she curled her free arm around his neck. “Hells, love, she’s family. I’ll never ask you to forget her. Yes, we’re here, getting on with our lives -- trying to enjoy retirement in the warmth and the sunshine. But if these will upset you…”

Again, he shook his head, releasing her hand and bringing both to rest against her hips. “As long as you’re comfortable with it, I think they should stay,” he said. “I think the kids will like them, too.”

Mairen pursed her lips as she regarded him. Along their bond, she could feel the bittersweet sting of the memories, swirling with warmth and affection. “If you’re sure.” She gave a lopsided grin. “Maybe I won’t kill them.”

“They’re a lot heartier than you think.” Reanden gave a chuckle, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “Something about Corellians.”

“We’re a stubborn lot.” She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, chest, and then back around his neck, interlacing her fingers. “Not exactly known for my green thumb, though.”

“Only if you’re still wearing your green gloves,” he teased. His expression sobered and he leaned forward, kissing her slowly, almost reverently. He drew back. “Thank you, Mai.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Always, love; always.”

[andveryginger]

A little work on my Green Jedi/Port Nowhere Mobster outfit today. Under shirt is cut and waiting for assembly; the pants pattern is laid out for cutting. Unlike the original, I will have pockets!

Once the pants are cut and side seams sewn, I'll figure out the faux leather side panels. Still debating whether the lines are pleats, seams, or quilting. May have to do a little sample to see what works best.

[andveryginger]

OTP questions: 3 odd numbers for Ahn/Theron and 3 even numbers for Mai/Reanden, please!

Thanks for the ask, dahlin!

Ahn/Theron

3. Most common argument?

Downtime. Both Ahn and Theron are very dedicated, and tend to be very focussed, rarely taking a breath until a particular task is done… even if that task takes twelve hours or two days. Food is forgotten; sleep is short. And it’s not generally an argument as much as it is a stern reminder from one to the other that, “Hey, there’s life outside.”

23. Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

Theron. It’s become something of a joke between them. He’s never been the suave super-spy, flirting and passing innuendo with everything remotely female… like Jonas. And so, every once in a while, he’ll sidle up to her and lay out the most horrible pick-up line he has come up with of late. It always makes her smile and roll her eyes… and he still gets to take her home.

25. Who needs more assurance?

Theron. Relationships aren’t his forte -- especially long-term ones. At some point in his life, he has managed to alienate anyone who has reached out to him, from Master Zho, to Marcus, and even Jace. And all he does to Teff’ith is piss her off. So hearing that he hasn’t stepped in it, or scared her off -- that he is, for intents and purposes, doing things the right way, is a big thing for him.

Mai/Reanden

16. Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Usually Mai. Reanden, for all his years in service, has been accustomed to rising early, and his internal alarm clock makes it difficult to sleep in… save on rare occasions. Mai, on the other hand, has begun to take full advantage of being ‘retired,’ and definitely getting the sleep she lacked all those years on Dromund Kaas.

24. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

Both Mai and Reanden. They’re also prone to act on inappropriate suggestions during inappropriate times or in inappropriate places. It’s one reason there’s such a rumor mill around them at SIS Headquarters, and why the kids have learned to knock.

28. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

They work. For Reanden, that’s slogging through reports or finding some case to plunge into. For Mai, it’s meditation and training. It was a very long 18+ months between Reanden’s defection and the op to extract Mai.

[andveryginger]

Working on my Jedi last night. The undershirt is done, and I got the side seam onto my pants, so I was able to draft up the side panels for the Port Nowhere Mobster look. Slight mods from in-game because I added front pockets, but overall, pretty similar, right down to no straight lines or completely symmetrical segments - - they're all off just a *tiny* bit. Drove me a little crazy, but okay.

Trying to decide if I'm going to fake wearing by using some tailor hams and get placement that way or if I'm going to baste them together and do it that way.

Also left: Holster rig assembly for Kanan (now that I have all the parts); chin strap for Hera; and tattoos for Hera.

Not gonna lie: The thought of painting the silicone is still intimidating me. I've drafted and cut a template, but I'm not sure if it will work. I also am not sure if I want to try and airbrush or try and paint the details on. I'll have better control if I use the paintbrush, but I think the airbrush will be more natural.

:sigh: Costuming problems...

Want to be done by Saturday/Sunday so I can have Monday/Tuesday to pack. Should make that. Whether or not Mai has her sabers? That's something else!

[andveryginger]

OC Fears

Sorry it’s been a bit quiet around here -- been on travel and trying to sort through a few creative road blocks. Still not back to writing yet, but... trying. We’ll see what comes of having a week to kinda settle in.

In the interim, the lovely @keldae has tagged me for the OC Fears meme, so... here we go. For my three main SWTOR OCs, Mairen, Annya, and Adela.

Rules: Bold any fears which apply to your muse, italicize what makes them uncomfortable.

Mairen Bel Iblis

the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowded spaces ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ change ⋆ failure ⋆ war ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ natural animals ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ death ⋆ dying ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment⋆ loss ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ being touched ⋆ forgetting ⋆ being forgotten

Annya Emrys

the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowded spaces ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ change ⋆ failure ⋆ war ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ natural animals ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ death ⋆ dying ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment⋆ loss ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ being touched ⋆ forgetting ⋆ being forgotten

Adela Emrys

the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowded spaces ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ change ⋆ failure ⋆ war ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ natural animals ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ death ⋆ dying ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment⋆ loss ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ being touched ⋆ forgetting ⋆ being forgotten

Now, who to tag: @elveny, @thewriterandmuse, @chenria -- doesn’t matter what fandom, just let us get to know your OCs!

[andveryginger]

Fictober, Day 1: “Achilles’ Heel”

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic

Pairing: Mairen Bel Iblis/Reanden Taerich (OCs, mentioned)

Rating: PG

Warnings: Angst.

1. “Can you feel this?”

“Can you feel this?”

Yes, she felt it, Mairen Bel Iblis thought. But then, she was feeling everything at the moment: The echo of pain that rippled along her back as tissue healed over her wound. The rasping sweep of the blunted metal stylus that the medic scraped over the sole of her feet, checking for nerve damage. The energy that rippled through the remaining Republic personnel -- relief that the mission was over, gratitude they had survived, and concern over those injured.

It was what she couldn’t feel that was more troubling: The chaotic, weakened Force signature that was Xaja Taerich, post-rescue. The reserved, concerned, and comfortable signature of Reanden Taerich. Xaja, for her part, was likely moved back to Tython for treatment. The physical, mental, and emotional damage done by her captivity would require Force healers and counselors. It made sense, then, that she would have lingered nearby only to be stabilized for movement.

Reanden was a different story.

At first she’d thought the bond formed between them had been some sort of dream, vision. His presence had been a constant -- steady, worried, deeply affectionate as he sat, day after day, beside the tank. She had sensed the gamut of emotions as he read his daily reports, processing the intelligence as only he could, something to pass the time. Sensed his fear as he pushed back thoughts of losing her -- Xaja -- Sorand -- Korin. Sensed the terror that lanced through him as he reached for her hand, skin-to-skin contact heightening the connection forged between them.

She should have known then that he would run, she thought.

“Cardinal?”

Blinking, Mairen looked up to the medic. The blonde regarded her with a furrowed brow, and there was concern warming her gaze as she regarded her patient. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yes, yes -- I’m fine,” the Jedi replied, offering a rueful smile. She waved her hand dismissively. “I was just curious as to why I couldn’t sense Knight Taerich. But then I reasoned she was moved on for more serious care.”

“She was,” the medic conceded. “Shortly after we got you in kolto, they shipped her off to Tython.” Her lips drew to a line. “Got a long road ahead of her, that one.”

Mairen nodded. The trauma of those events would haunt the younger Jedi for a very long time, she knew. If she were anything like her father -- or her mother -- she had little doubt that Xaja would push through. It didn’t mean there wasn’t going be a high cost. “The Order will take good care of her, I’m sure,” she said aloud.

The other woman echoed the action, cropped blonde hair sweeping her shoulders. “Seems you’ll make a quick recovery, though.” Her cheerfulness was a bit forced, and Mairen could sense confusion and worry as it stirred within and she fought to determine if she should say something. “Even still, I… I kinda thought the old man would stick around…”

A deep ache gripped her chest and Mairen could feel the sting of tears as they threatened; she struggled to maintain a steady breath. “So he did leave, then.”

“This morning,” the blonde replied. “He popped in for an update on you and then the sergeant says he went for flight clearance back to Dromund Kaas. Took off shortly thereafter.”

That, she thought, explained the distance she felt -- the muted sensations as opposed to his presence beside her, or holding her hand as she lay on the medical bed. She swallowed back the knot that rose in the back of her throat and drew on the Force to stabilize her emotions, her voice. “And I should be getting back soon, myself… before they get too curious,” she said. She offered a taut smile. “I don’t suppose you could release me for return to duty?”

The medic returned the smile, nodding. “I can do that.” Spontaneously, she reached and took Mairen’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Stay safe, Cardinal.”

Reaching over, Mairen patted the back of the medic’s palm with her free hand. “I will. I promise.”

“And,” the medic drawled, a wry grin curving her lips, “lemme know if you need me and the guys to smack some sense into Duathion. Seems like he might need a little ‘cognitive recalibration.’”

Her eyes stinging, the red headded Jedi gave a laugh.  It was a bark of laughter, something of a release valve for the swirling mass of emotions she couldn’t begin to sort. “I’ll keep that in mind, Corpsman…?”

“Shade,” the medic replied. “Margaret Shade.”

Mairen nodded. “Thank you, Corpsman Shade.”

“All part of the service we offer here.” The corpsman offered a bit of a smile and one last squeeze of her hand before slipping away and down the corridor.

Watching her go, Mairen couldn’t shake the feeling of loneliness that seemed to engulf her. She should have known he would run, she thought again, though it still shocked her that he had. And yet… she knew, from the brief moments of lucidity in the kolto and out, that he still cared -- could sense it with the certainty only a bond could bring. She struggled to focus on this, not the whispers of betrayal and abandonment that lurked in the darker recesses of her mind. A sigh escaped her. Dromund Kaas was going to be a nightmare, she realized, knowing that the darkness there would crawl and creep, looking for weaknesses. She could only hope to find balance sometime between now and then.

And how to face Reanden the next time she saw him.

[andveryginger]

Title: Shattered

Authors: Ginger & @keldae

Fandom:  Star Wars: The Old Republic (RPverse)

Pairing:  Imperial Agent/Sith Inquisitor (Imperial Agent/Jedi Shadow)

(Mairen Bel Iblis/Reanden Taerich)

Series:  Deja New

Rating:  T

Summary: No matter how much Reanden stared in mute horror at the datapad on his desk, the awful words blinking up at him refused to change.

Notes:    

And thus begins the arc @keldae and I have dubbed "The Incident" -- the huge, rambling, life-altering angstfest that begins to bring Clan Taerich (Plus One) to its current form in the RPverse. There are a lot more gaps to fill in this overall arc, even more backstory to fill in before this all goes down, but we've started hitting the high points. And, quite honestly, I think it's time Mai and Reanden showed there was more to it than just falling into bed... though they still very much enjoy that, too. ::snerk::

Posted without beta, but with considerable poking and tweaking over the past year. I made one last pass this morning, so anything you see now is probably my fault. ;)

[andveryginger]

3 Song Meme

Ages ago, the lovely @lumielles​ tagged me to select three songs for one or more of my OCs. I don’t generally maintain playlists, relying instead on Pandora stations to create moods as I write for my characters. Thus, trying to choose has taken a long while. In the end, I chose my current main, Mairen Bel Iblis.

Featured below with her fiance, Reanden Taerich, in a gorgeous piece by the amazing @quatraquartzart​. The beach retreat on Rishi is a current fave for the “retired, extremely dangerous” spies. ♥

“Lie,” Black Light Burns. Fitting for most of my spies, I think this works for her during her time undercover in the Empire. She despised the politics -- the constant jockeying for favor and position; backstabbing and emphasis on personal power. Having established her reputation early on, she showed herself to be a professional, garnering a place in the circles travelled by more pragmatic Sith such as Darth Marr and Lana Beniko.

“Tongue Tied,” Earle. Sums up the relationship between these two dorks fairly effectively, especially early on. Much as they hate to think about it, the kids know to knock before just wandering in to their dad’s place these days. ::snort::

“Home,” Daughtry. While all the lyrics aren’t entirely applicable, the overall sentiment is is quite appropriate: Once Reanden fled the Empire, faking his death, Mairen struggled a bit, having lost her friend, lover, partner, and station chief all in one go. Home, they discovered, was wherever they were -- together.

Bonus: “Under the Influence,” Elle King. To the outside observer, they first hated each other. And then, when the rumors started, it was whispered the two had embarked on a scandalous affair, each using the other for the influence they offered. As an all-but Force blind spy and Sith lord, to be emotionally involved -- on top of being two extremely well-placed spies -- brought its own political and social intrigues.

It helps that this one definitely has a retro, Bond-like feel to it. Perfect for a couple of spies. =D

[andveryginger]

Title: Renewed Hope

Fandom:  Star Wars: The Old Republic (RPverse)

Authors: Ginger & @keldae

Pairing:  Imperial Agent/Sith Inquisitor (Imperial Agent/Jedi Shadow)

(Mairen Bel Iblis/Reanden Taerich)

Series:  Deja New

Rating:  T

Summary:  In her meditation, Mairen senses something that offers a glimmer of hope for Clan Taerich.

Notes:

Continuing story of The Incident, penned by myself and Keldae. Posted sans beta, though it's been on simmer since June of last year. Any mistakes you see now are probably my fault, as I missed them in my (too often) repeated editing.

[andveryginger]

Fictober, Day 5: “Like a Book”

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic

Pairing: Mairen Bel Iblis/Reanden Taerich (referenced). Rand Verhayc/Shara Verhayc (mentioned).

Rating: G

Warnings: None

5. “Take what you need.”

Note: Many thanks to @keldae for the use of Reanden and Sorand here. <3

Rand Verhayc, formerly known as Sorand Taerich,  tossed his napkin onto the table, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. Balancing a family, medical training, and personal sanity -- what of it he retained, he thought with an internal smirk -- was proving to be something of a challenge. Thus, finding himself seated at his father’s dining room table, having just devoured his favorite nerf steaks and root vegetables, was a rare occurrence, prized and appreciated.

His gaze drifted over the leftovers: Almost a half kilo of steak and probably two servings of vegetables. They would do him well for quick meals over the next few days. He had an exam to study for, after all, and his nutrition often suffered under the strain. He turned to his father with a grin. “Mind if I pack those up?”

“Hm?” Reanden Taerich blinked, looking to his son. As the question slowly registered through the haze of contemplation, he gave a chuckle and a wave of his hand. “Take what you need,” he said. “Think I have some soup you can grab, too, if you want a little variety.”

“Excellent,” Rand beamed. In the next instant, however, he regarded the retired spy with a furrowed brow. “You feeling okay, Dad?”

“Fine. Why?”

The younger Taerich pursed his lips. “Well, while the steaks were awesome -- as always,” he began slowly, “they leaned a bit more toward medium-well than medium… and I thought the veg needed a bit more seasoning.” A wry grin touched his lips as he leaned forward, bracing his folded arms on the table. “It’s not like you -- not with something you’ve cooked a million times over. What’s got you so distracted?”

Reanden tossed his own napkin onto the table beside his half-empty plate. It seemed his appetite had been affected as well, Rand noted as an answering grin slowly curled across his father’s lips. “Not much gets past you, hm, Mister Observant?”

“Only because I know you,” Rand replied. “And your cooking.”

“So you do.” The spy sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. They fell to his lap as he shook his head and looked to his son. “I… leave on an op in the morning, and it’s -- well, there’s a lot at stake, and my part is just logistics.”

At this, Rand frowned. “That’s not like you,” he said. “Well -- worry over a situation you’re not in control of, sure, but… logistics? That’s unusual for you. Unless, of course, you really are retired?”

“You know better than that, buddy,” Reanden replied. He cut the younger man a glance that was both amused and not. They both knew that full retirement would drive him mental; he had to keep working on something. “But no, I can’t afford to be seen on this op, so… I gotta sit back and watch from the sidelines.”

Right. That must mean Imperials, Rand thought. “Someone you can trust in on the operational side, I guess?” he asked.

Reanden nodded. “Someone I’d trust with you, Korin, or Xaja.” His eyes flickered over his son’s features, lips pursed as he paused. “Or Mai.”

Feeling his father’s gaze as he studied him, watching for his reaction, Rand blinked. Awareness stirred at the back of his mind. There were few people in the galaxy to which Reanden Taerich would trust the safety of his family; they could probably be counted on one hand. One of those trusted agents had actually assisted in dragging his brother’s fat out of the fire more times than was probably fair. Of course, Korin pays for it with a solid right hook to the jaw now and again, he reasoned.

Adding Mai -- Mairen Bel Iblis, the Jedi SIS operative his father had worked with and practically lived with, back in Imperial space -- into that equation said something. Actually, it said a lot. Not only was it a subtle means of stating he felt Mai was part of the family, but also…

His eyes widened, brows sliding toward his hairline briefly as realization settled on him: They were finally extracting her from Imperial space. And there was no way his father, despite all his field experience, could be part of that, from the risk of being recognized to his unmistakable emotional involvement. It has to be practically killing him, Rand thought.

“So I’m sorry if I’m not great company tonight,” Reanden said, breaking into his thoughts. “I am glad you stopped by.”

Shaking his head, Rand gave a chuckle. “If you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me, then I’ll cut you some slack.” He paused, taking a sip of the Alderaanian red that had accompanied their dinner. As was his custom, he had nursed the single glass all evening. It really had paired well with the steak. “How long are you going to be gone?”

“A week at the outside,” the spy answered. “If everything goes according to the timetable.”

The careful qualification almost made him smile. Yeah, his dad was nervous. Reaching over, he placed a comforting hand on the older man’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine, ya know. She’s a professional and, if you’re working with our mutual friend, then you know he is, too.”

Reanden drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, nodding.

Feeling the tension in his shoulder release slightly, an understanding smile curved Rand’s lips. It quickly gave way to an impish grin, warmth creeping up the back of his neck as another thought occurred to him. “That means I’m going to have to ring the doorbell from here on out, doesn’t it?”

A blush crept across the bridge of his father’s nose as the elder man rolled his eyes. A bark of laughter escaped him. “Probably safer that way.” He darted a hand over and ruffled the dark mop of hair atop his head. “C’mon, kid... let’s get this dinner cleared and your leftovers packed up.”

Rand offered his own chuckle. “You got it.”

[andveryginger]

5 or 13 for the sex fic thingy ;)

5: Biting to stay quiet.

13. Anything involving secretive brushing of fingertips against inner thighs in public spaces  – this is in the queue and will probably be finished later this week.

DM!verse Mairen and Reanden were apparently happy to step in and fill this particular prompt. Decidedly NSFW behind the cut.

Her legs wrapped around him, back braced against the wall, Reanden reached up and pushed a lock of wet, wavy red hair back from her face as a smirk curled across her features. He trailed his fingers down her side, pausing just long enough to pinch at the darkened, sensitized peak that stood out against her ivory skin as he gently rolled his hips. A gasping moan escaped her and his grin widened against her neck. ���Like that, do you?”

“Much as I enjoy it when you get cocky, you kriffing old bastard,” Mairen began, her warmth intentionally tightening around him, “I’d say the scales are fairly even.” He bucked involuntarily as the tension at the base of his spine coiled even more densely and he groaned. A laugh reverberated through her chest and her lips, sealed over his.

Mischief danced in his eyes as he looked up at her. “All evidence,” he murmured, “to the contrary.” Pushing deeper, her legs tightened around him, as if capable of drawing closer as her body welcomed him – encouraged him. “Can’t help it if I don’t play fair.”

“Play fair? Oh, darling….” The low, seductive note to her voice, combined with the sheer want mingling with amusement in her green-hazel eyes sent a rush through him. And then he felt a gentle caress against first his lower cheeks, followed by firm, ghostly fingers trailing under his base. His length surged and he thrust into her. “I could play much, much dirtier.”

The curse that escaped him was unintelligible, even if the meaning was clear enough. “Kriffing Force users,” he managed. “Always showing off.” His body slid effortlessly against hers.

Mairen smirked down at him as her muscles began to flutter around him. Her voice was breathy, pattern broken as she struggled to stay coherent. “You just don’t… like me… having the upper hand,” she teased.

Shaking his head, the former Imperial spy captured her mouth with his, right hand closing over her breast as he shifted his weight into her, this time with a bit more emphasis. He felt her moan, the tenor almost lost among the rush of the shower behind them. “Next time, sweetheart,” he replied. “Right now… just want…”

“Dad?”

Reanden frowned as both he and Mairen struggled to pause their attentions. Their bodies, however, maintained rhythm, tempo increasing slightly despite their efforts. His hips rolled into hers, and she bit her lip. “What the…?” He turned his ear toward the door, attempting to focus his implants to enhance his hearing. “Korin?”

“Yeah!” came the response. “You in the shower?”

“Be out in… a minute…”

His hand slipped back to her hip, fingers tightening as he ground into her, chests heaving as they struggled to breathe in the steamy confines. “Come for me,” he murmured into her ear, “but you’re going to have to keep it quiet.”

Her voice was a whisper, her head tossed back against the bulkhead. “Shit, Reanden… Feels too…” She dropped her head to his shoulder, a whimper escaping her and echoing softly. Knowing that she was struggling, knowing he was the reason – feeling her response against him and around him as he slid home again and again and again – he plummeted over the edge, sensation exploding between them in a blinding flash. His mouth closed firmly over her left shoulder, teeth barely breaking the surface, even as a sharp ache rippled from his right, their cries muffled by the rush of water and soft, warm skin.

The pace slowed, taking on an almost languid feel as they came down. He laved her shoulder with his tongue, kissing the wound before working his way up to capture her mouth with his. She offered a sigh, one that was echoed as he carefully withdrew, placing her back onto her own feet. He brought his lips to her ear and tugged on her earlobe. “I’d better go,” he said quietly.

She nodded, impish gleam in her eyes, rueful smile tugging upward at the corner of her mouth. “You know where to find me.”

“That I do.” Reanden placed a kiss against her temple, then gave himself a cursory wash as she did the same. Switching off the water, he passed her a towel. The rest of the process was handled in silence, with only the shift of fabric heard between them.

Finally dry, he stepped into his underwear and pants, grabbing his shirt from the counter. He cast a glance to Mairen. Still nude, she stood at the counter, arms stretched up as she plied the long, damp locks into some decently artistic style atop her head. His gaze traced the visible contours with appreciation, eyes meeting hers with a smouldering grin. He would have to show that appreciation later.With a wink, he slipped out, ensuring the door closed behind him.

Korin regarded his father with an arched brow, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “You all right, old man?”

“Sorry, kid.” Reanden looked up at his eldest son, opening the bottom hem of his shirt with a shrug and a bit of a smirk. “Thought I’d wound you less if I got dressed first.”

“Speaking of wounds…” Korin nodded toward his father, his observant gaze tracing details. His expression flickered between surprise and concern. “That one looks fresh. Company last night?”

“Hm?” Arms in his sleeves, the older spy paused, following his son’s attention… right to the red, crescent-shaped marking on the curve of his shoulder. He felt warmth crawl up his neck and spread across the bridge of his nose, and dove into his shirt as a distraction. Smoothing his hand down the front as he tucked it in, he shook his head. “It’ll heal up quick enough.”

A moment of silence hung in the air. When Reanden looked back toward Korin, he noted the wide-eyes and gaping mouth. His hazel depths showed equal amounts astonishment, admiration, and disgust. “Holy Hells,” he said. He took a step toward the ‘fresher. “That’s why it took you so long to get out: She was in there with you. Is she still –?”

Panic surged through Reanden, even as he struggled to maintain a neutral expression. He reached for his holster rig, buckling it on and stepping in front of his son. “She?”

Korin gave his father a wry grin. “Bite mark’s humanoid, and just a bit too small to be a dude… which, I might add, is a lot more than I wanna know about your sex life, but…”

“But you want to know who she is.”

“Well, yeah…” The smuggler-spy had the grace to look sheepish. “I mean, ‘Rand, Xaj, and I kinda suspected – there may or may not be a bit of a pool going…”

“A pool going?”

The indignation and curiosity was unmistakeable, but Reanden was suddenly glad the door masked the most distinguishable features of Mairen’s voice. He coughed. “A pool? You three have been betting on who I’ve been sleeping with?”

“Yeah – I mean, no… “ Korin sighed, hand rubbing the back of his neck. Pink blossomed across his cheeks. “More betting on who finds out first?”

Irritation welled up within him, mingling with amusement. The entire situation was ridiculous to begin with: A former Imperial spy with three adult children, diving into an affair with his late wife’s cousin, right under the nose of her very disapproving uncle – also known as his former father-in-law. It was largely for that reason that they agreed to keep their liaison a secret. Not having to tell his kids had been an added benefit. Now, it seemed they knew he was up to something, if not entirely who he was up to it with.

He wasn’t about to tell them. Or give Korin a hint.

The younger Taerich sighed. “And why do I think finding out who she is just got exponentially harder?”

Reanden laughed and clapped his son on the shoulder. “C’mon, kiddo. I’ll buy lunch.”

Korin followed his father into the corridor, shaking his head. “Thanks, Dad. Suppose it’s the least you could do for scarring my over-active imagination. Mom always said I inherited it from you…”

If there was a snort of laughter from the ‘fresher, both men chose not to hear it.

[andveryginger]

What started out as a couple of prompt responses during OC Kiss Week evolved into an epic, decade-plus backstory between Annya and Adela’s aunt, Mairen Bel Iblis, and Xaja’s father, Reanden Taerich.

Given the climate of Tumblr of late, Kel and I discussed things and decided we should start posting some of the stories over on AO3, as we realize just how fickle Tumblr can be. So, at this link, you will find the compiled series. I’ve managed to upload most of the early days for these two; the later days, including Mairen’s extraction from Imperial space, will be posted in the coming days.

[andveryginger]

75 for the kiss prompt, for whoever talks to you. :D

So #75 is, “Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing.” The result is the first Drastic Measures AU!fic starring the alternate versions of Mairen and Reanden.

Force help us. ::headdesk::

Takes place sometime later in the DM-verse, after settling Odessen. Details are sketchy ‘cause most of this part of the story is still in note form – not even an outline yet…

Posted sans beta, fresh off the presses.

Seated in the pilot’s seat, Reanden Taerich gripped the yoke with one hand, the other resting impatiently on the hyperdrive lever. Laser blasts from the Zakuulan scout ships swarming him pounded against the shields, rocking the contents of the Phantom-class vessel as the inertial dampeners struggled to keep up with his own maneuvers. “SCORPIO, I could really use those calculations right about now,” he exclaimed, shifting a side-long glance toward the rust bucket beside him.

The droid, seated in the co-pilot seat of the sleek vessel, appeared as unimpressed as ever. “Hyperspace calculations are exacting at the best of times, Agent,” she replied. “Attempting to compensate for our continual change of course only amplifies the difficulty.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be more accommodating,” Taerich said with a snort. That was about as close as she ever came to complaining about his piloting. “Take much longer to compensate, though, and it’s gonna cease to be a problem!”

There was a shift in the wide, orange photoreceptors, lenses rotating and internal circuits blinking to blue for a fraction of a second. “Calculations complete. You may engage hyperdrive when ready.”

If there was a note of smug satisfaction in her voice, it was clearly his imagination. With a nudge of his wrist, Reanden shoved the lever into the forward position. He felt his stomach drop to his knees and quickly rebound in the heartbeat it took for the sublight engines to engage. He watched through the transparisteel as light itself stretched around them before they blinked into the space between.

Heaving a sigh of relief, the former Imperial spy leaned back in his seat and rubbed his hands over his face. Adrenaline coursed through his system, making his limbs hum and his extremities tingle. It was a strange feeling, one he had not felt in quite some time. The constant infusion of alcohol had apparently kept at bay over the past few years. He pushed himself to his feet, unable to remain seated, needing to move – to walk – to pace. “Keep us on course for Duros. If we can punch out of hyperspace behind the moons, it should buy us enough time to make the next jump,” he said.

SCORPIO seemed to consider this a moment, then nodded. “Very well,” she replied. Her hands gripped the flight yoke, metallic plating clattering quietly against the hardware as she did so. “You will be notified as we approach our next vector.”

“Fine.” With a nod, Reanden turned and stalked down the passageway and into the main compartment. To his left, he could see Lokin puttering around the small medical lab, picking up a datapad from his desk as Raina Temple eased herself up onto the bed. She had suffered a few minor injuries in the course of the op, so he was glad to see them being tended.

Movement in his peripheral – a flutter of red and green – shifted his attention to his right. Recognition was instant: Mairen. He watched as the Green Jedi moved about the conference room, taking position near the computer terminal. Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath, rolling her head and shoulders. There was slight movement to her lips as she murmured to herself, tapping commands into the keyboard.

Memories flooded him: a darkened room, echoing with soft sighs and gasps; her chest rising and falling against his; the way she met his need with an assertive desire of her own. Blood surged to his lower extremities, fuelled, no doubt, by the adrenaline. A wry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. That’s one way to blow off a little steam, he thought. He moved toward the conference room, the grin widening.

For her part, Mairen glanced up from the console as he entered. “That was some piloting,” she said. She continued working on her data input. “Though maybe you should see about getting some seat belts installed somewhere other than the cockpit.”

“I’ll talk to Hylo about requisitioning the parts when we get back to Odessen,” he replied with a chuckle. Stepping up behind her, he placed on hand on her hip, the other brushing aside the long, wavy locks of red hair. He nuzzled her neck before placing a kiss just below her ear. “I’d hate for you to be bruised… in transit…”

Her breath caught, her fingers stilling over the keys. “Now isn’t the time for this,” she whispered. “There’s reports to be done…”

Reanden felt himself twitch at the breathy nature of her voice, allowed his hand to trace over her as it came to rest on the crest of her hip. His fingers tightened as his own hips canted toward her. She bit back a soft moan. “Can’t tell me you don’t want to work off a little of this excess energy,” he murmured into her skin.

“I’d like nothing more,” she replied. Her hands gripped at the console. “But your crew –”

“…Is busy.”

He nipped at her earlobe and her hips rolled involuntarily against him, surprising him with her quick response. It seemed she was quite keyed up. “Force, Reanden,” she hissed. She whirled on him, arms sliding around his neck as her mouth claimed his. Two fingers waved toward the door, and the durasteel plating slid closed. “This is such a bad idea.”

“Probably,” he answered. He executed a reverse, nudging her backward until she bumped up against the conference table. She eased herself up onto it with no hesitation. Stepping in between her parted legs, his hands fisted in her lower robes, rucking them up. His hands then found the bare skin of her thighs as her fingers fumbled over the latch on his belt.

“Gotta say I’m impressed, old timer! Wouldn’t think you could get it up any more… or is that what the Jedi is for?”

Mairen’s hands froze over his waist, eyes widening as they looked first to one another, then to the door. Kaliyo Djannis stood just inside the room, arms folded as she leaned against the bulkhead. A knowing smirk played across her pale features.

Burying her face in his shoulder, Mairen slipped her hands up to his chest, curling into his lapels as he levelled a steely glare at his associate. His hip sheath was out of reach, but there were a few smaller throwing knives concealed just along the side seams of his jacket. A well-placed warning toss might just do the trick, he thought. “Kaliyo…”

“Fairly unconventional use of the Force, if you think about it,” the Rattataki continued. “Or is it? What with that whole ‘no attachments’ thing, I bet you guys get lots of practice.”

Reanden felt rage – cold, unadulterated rage spike deep within him, his gaze hardening. He couldn’t use the knife now – couldn’t – because he wouldn’t miss. He would kill her. Then he felt warmth radiating through him. Looking down, he saw Mairen, looking up at him with cautious eyes, her palm soft against his evening stubble. Drawing in a deep breath, he exhaled slowly. He knew the glint in his eyes had mellowed, but there was an unmistakable edge remaining in his voice. “Out. Now.”

It was the first time he had ever seen Kaliyo flinch away from him, her already white skin paling further beneath the tattoos. She swallowed as she straightened, exiting the room silently. The door slipped closed again behind her.

Silence hung heavily in the room for a long moment after her departure. It was Mairen who spoke first. “Are you all right?” she asked. Her gaze traced his features with concern… and a tenderness he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge.

He nodded, squeezing her hand. “I will be.” If his voice was a bit rough, surely it was the result of their earlier activities and not the jumble of emotions currently lodged in his chest. Should he have been willing to stand up for Mairen? Yes. That viciously? Probably not. Even now, the strength of his response surprised him. There would be fences to mend with Kaliyo later… but she would not make the same mistake again.

Her thumb traced the crease between his brows, a soft smile playing over her features. “Thank you.” There was a weightiness to her voice, a double meaning that he could not miss. She knew – could sense, perhaps – his confusion.

“You’re welcome.” Reanden cradled her head in his hands, pressing a kiss first to her forehead, then her pink, slightly swollen lips. As he began to draw back, she pulled him back in, deepening the kiss into something languid and tender, with building intensity. The smile that curved his lips echoed hers when the kiss ended. “Quite welcome.”

An impish gleam sparked her eyes, paired with a lopsided grin. “Seems we still have a bit of… adrenaline to deal with. Meet me in the ‘fresher in ten minutes?”

“Awfully small space,” he replied with a chuckle.

Mairen dropped a kiss of her own just under his jawline. “All the more reason to… stay close.”

The seductive note in her voice sent a charge through him and he felt his interest, diminished considerably by the interruption, flickering to life again. His hands flexed over the crest of her hips as he exhaled. He looked up at her. “Ten minutes.”

She planted a kiss on his nose, slipping off the table, then toward the door without another look back. His attention was drawn to the waves of red hair; the curve of her waist; the sway of her hips. He sighed as the door closed behind her, rubbing his hands over his face. His history – their history – had the potential to make such an entanglement, casual as it may be, incredibly complicated. But damn if he wasn’t going to enjoy this while it lasted.