Tuesday, September 20, 2016

BOOK BOYFRIEND HUNT 2016 ~ Samsyn Cimarron: Into His Command by Angel Payne


Samsyn Cimarron





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Into His Command
Angel Payne


"Everyone on alert,” he directed calmly. “We have to expect anything.”
Well-spoken advice. That he completely neglected to take personally.
Or maybe it would not have mattered, anyway.
Prepared or not, maybe he was destined to walk out on that tarmac, watch the plane’s door descend, then remember nothing except one pair of perfect, petrified eyes. 
Literally…nothing. 
Had he greeted the senator? He vaguely recalled his lips moving on the words, the assurances to Chase Valen that they would be safe and guarded here.
Had he said anything to Mrs. Valen? Her shoulders had trembled when he pulled her in, briefly bussing her cheeks in formal greeting, had they not?
Had he said anything to the boy? Dillon. They’d clasped hands like men, though the young man clung long and hard, silently conveying his fear. 
He had remembered. All of it. 
And that all of it was just going through the motions—
Until she got off the stairway.
Chin jerked high—beneath wobbling lips. Steps taken proudly—on legs so fatigued, they barely held her up. Shoulders set firm—while shaking from each shell-shocked breath.
But most of all, it was her eyes.
Her huge, terrified, mesmerizing, crystal blue eyes. 
Reminding him…
of him.
No. More than that. It only started there, this draw he felt toward her…this pull of raw connection, fueled by fires he’d never experienced before. This…need…to get nearer to her, though not in any way that would harm her or frighten her. It wasn’t sexual or even emotional. It extended so far beyond those labels, into a realm that was…
What?
Mystical?
Fuck. 
No. No. He was not fairy dust, magic drops, and Für Elise. He was not “mystical”. And he sure as hell was not crashing, cataclysmic connection with a fucking teenager, even if she did walk like a queen despite the hell she had endured, and the darkness in which she stepped.
He wanted to be this creature’s strength, sword, and shelter. He craved to drop to his knees before her, sweep his head low, pledge his fealty forever, and utter all the other knightly things from the classic books he had never learned in school. He mentally stabbed himself for it all now. For not getting past the cramped desks and stuffy classrooms and listening to a few of those lessons, instead of ticking off the minutes until he could be free and moving and doing something. 
Now, he prayed for a single perfect line from one of those books. One ideal thing to say when walking up to the only person who had ever affected him like a human super magnet, drawing him like a million helpless metal shavings, able to achieve his true form only because she grew nearer.
“Hi.”
That was not the perfect thing.
“Hi.” She blurted it between one nervous glance and the next. He wished her no blame. If he were standing in her cute little tennis shoes, gawking up at a hulk like him, he would steal nothing but glimpses too. At once, he rounded his shoulders and gave into a small smile. It rendered no good. His adorable, brave little refugee still trembled like a star readying to fall from the heavens.
A star.
Yes. That was it.
“Starlight, star bright.” Though he did not murmur it with the greatest confidence, it felt right. Even she seemed to sense it, that wide blue gaze softening.
“Wh-what?” The accusation fled her tone. A tiny smile threatened her scared scowl.
“Starlight, star bright.” He was more confident about the repetition, even scooping up her hand and adding a low bow over her fingers. “Look what beauty the sky has brought me tonight.”
Her fingertips shook against his palm. Her lips quaked harder, as if she was unsure what to say or feel. That certainly made two of them. “This is…kind of weird.” 
“Well…‘weird’ is all right.” He laughed a little, as her vernacular teased his tongue. He remembered himself the next moment, straightening back to noble formality. “As long as safe goes with it.” He bent over her as far as he dared. “You are safe now, Brooke Valen. Of that you can be assured.”
Her gold-tinged brows arched. “That so, big guy?”
He chuckled. “That is so, little astremé.”
“Oh, yeah?” Her head tilted, blowing little chunks of her hair across her lightly-freckled cheeks. Her hair was also intriguing. It was so different than Arcadian styles, chopped at vastly different lengths. “Says who? Because in case you haven’t heard, this evil asshole just blew up our whole house and—”
“Brooke.” Her mother whipped a glare over. “Language!”
Samsyn held Brooke back, waiting for the woman to keep going, before he leaned closer over her. “‘Evil asshole’ is about right.” Once regaining the full connection of her gaze—because he knew he would get it—he asserted, “And if he comes anywhere near you, the commander of the Arcadian armed forces, Prince Samsyn Cimarron, personally swears he shall slice the bastard from one ear to the next.”
“Only if I can help.” Tryst emphasized it with a snort.
“‘Prince’?” She seemed unaware of even whispering it. “Well, no shit.”
He grimaced. “Still weird?”
“Oh, yeah.” Her lips quirked. “But cool. Maybe…more than kind of.” 
Her awkward honesty tossed all his composure into fresh chaos. The shards of it hit his blood like metal shavings, sharpening his senses, making him even more aware of every move she made now too—
Including the new way she gazed at him.
No more surreptitious glances. No more frightened trembling. Her steps still wobbled a little, no doubt due to the hell she’d just survived, but as Syn helped her into the transport van that would take them up into the Tahreuse Mountains, where they could be best hidden in case Kavill gave chase, she looked up to him once more—with a face full of brand-new things. 
Relief.
Confidence.
Security. 
Hope.
She held back none of it. And in giving all of it, gave him yet one more, incredible gift. A sensation in his heart and soul he had written off as forever lost.
Clean.

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