He wasn’t wearing a belt, so she freed his shirt from his waistband easily, running her hands along his warm, smooth flesh, alternating between rubbing him and scraping her nails along his ribs, over a knot of scar tissue from some past battle. Her memory of him in the jungle came to mind, a panther springing from log to tree, bringing down lesser predators as if they were hapless kits. She pushed his shirt up, wanting to see the great predator before her in the flesh. He rumbled with pleasure, almost a purr. Or a soft roar. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the desk. Before it landed, she was crouching, kissing his abdomen, the smell and taste of him intoxicating her. She ran her hands up his back, rising and finding that nipple she had teased before, licking and sucking, then grazing it with her teeth.
“Ankari,” he murmured, almost a groan. He bent down to nuzzle her hair, inhaling deeply.
Hearing him whisper her name, hearing the ache of desire in his voice, rather than the frustration that could have been there after all the trouble she had caused him, it made her want to please him. Not to prove her worth or anything else to him, just to make him enjoy his time with her. But he kept distracting her with his strokes and massages, making her forget her original intent. She wanted to kiss him hard and hot on the mouth and demand that he take her over to that bed.
Instead, she found the buttons of his trousers, unfastening them even as she kissed and nibbled her way to his other nipple, sucking it, promising more to come. She slid his trousers over his hips. This time he did groan when he whispered her name, digging his fingers into her hair, arching toward her. As she kissed her way lower, past the dark hair sprinkling his chest, down the ridges of his abdomen, she lowered a hand, stroking his straining shaft, feeling the blood pulsing against her palm. Her body ached and throbbed in sync, aroused by his groans, his touch, and the sight of him. She dropped to her knees, the soft wool of a sheepskin rug touching her skin, making her realize how alive her body felt, how much any touch, however slight, roused her flesh.
She grasped the base of his shaft with one hand and gripped his firm backside with the other, then leaned into him, her tongue darting out, licking his heated flesh. His head fell back, his muscles taut. A bead of sweat snaked down his abdomen, and she sensed the tension in his body, how much he wanted to grab her and bear her to the floor beneath him. But he wanted this too, she was certain of it, and she smiled as she ran her tongue along his engorged length. When she found the tip, taking him in her mouth, he snarled a “yes” that incensed her, as well. As she drew him deeper, the hot taste of him raking across her tongue, she lowered one hand between her legs, finding a gap in the robe, pleasuring herself even as she quickened her pace with him. He pumped against her, filling her mouth, though she could tell he was trying not to be too forceful, too rough. She scarcely would have noticed. She couldn’t get enough and worked him faster, deeper, trying to take more of him in, craving all of him. She lifted her gaze, watching his magnificent form as he arched into her, his sweat-slick skin gleaming by the lantern light, the corded muscles of his arms flexing beneath his tattoos, his fisted hands as he kept himself from grabbing her head, forcing himself against her. Her hot core pulsed beneath the frantic movements of her hand, and she found her release before he did, but she didn’t slake off, still reveling in the trembling of his body, his ardent desire straining into her.
“Ankari,” he whispered in a warning, touching her head, letting her know to pull away.
She only lifted her hands, grabbing his hips, pressing into him, enjoying the taste of him, wanting to feel his pleasure coursing through her. He came with a roar that brought that image of the panther rushing into her mind again. Later, she might be ashamed, knowing she had found the thought of him prowling through the jungle and dealing death arousing, but for now, she merely curled her hand around the back of his leg and rested her head against his thigh. Spent.
Viktor bent down and gathered her in his arms. He stepped out of his trousers and walked to the bed. She might have been amused that she was still wearing the shapeless robes, but supposed she hadn’t needed to undress further, not for this. She wanted more of him, but another time would be fine, when they had both slept. She draped her arms around his shoulders and looked into his eyes, hoping for the promise that there would be another time.
His eyes reflected the flame of the lantern, the warmth in their depths making her belly shiver. He sank onto the bed, pulling her into his lap, and kissed her temple gently. Tenderly. He nuzzled her ear and her neck. His warm breath whispered across skin moist from his kisses. Her body responded to him, her nipples tightening, and heat stirring in her depths again.
“Aren’t you tired?” Ankari murmured, knowing he didn’t need her now, not yet.
He smiled against her neck, kissing his way down to her collarbone. “Just showing my appreciation.” He hesitated, lifting his gaze to hers, a question there. “Unless you’re too tired for appreciation.”
“No.” Thoughts of sleep had already wandered out of her head, and she couldn’t help but speculate wildly on just how he might show that appreciation. “I think I’d wake from the dead for this.”
“Good. But I intend to keep you alive.” His voice was husky, almost a growl, and it made her shiver, knowing the panther wanted to be her protector.
Their lips met for the first time that night. If he minded the taste of himself on her, he didn’t show it. His hand found the gap in her robe, warm, calloused skin coming to rest on her bare thigh. He had scarcely touched her, but she scooted closer, kissing him hard, demanding more. His hand slid upward, his thumb finding sensitive flesh still damp from earlier. Her breath hitched as he grazed her, and he smiled against her lips.
“No underwear beneath that robe, eh?”
“It was wet.” She thought about making a dirty joke, but her eyes were too busy rolling back in her head as he stroked her with his thumb.
He leaned her back onto the bed, his lips never far from hers. “Because of the rain or me?” he teased, his eyes crinkling with humor, humor that she doubted many people got to see from him. She treasured it, cheesy line and all.
“Yes,” she whispered, and pushed open her robe, wanting him to be able to touch all of her, to—
A beep came from the pile of clothing on the floor.
“No,” she protested, not wanting any disturbances, not until morning. Not ever.
He gave her a long kiss, and she thought—hoped—he might ignore it, but at the second beep, he sighed and climbed out of bed. She watched him go, so disappointed that it was all she could do not to replace his missing hands with her own, especially as she admired his powerful form, the shadow and light of the lantern playing over the rises and dips of his musculature.
“What?” Viktor asked, his eyes on her body, as well, the swell of the breasts she had bared.
She hoped someone was just checking in, maybe wondering why he wasn’t in his room, that it was nothing major, that he could return to bed and touch her with more than his eyes.
“We’ve got company, Cap’n,” came the tracker’s voice over the comm.
In an instant, his eyes hardened, and he was the captain again, grim and forbidding. Ankari found the expression far less intimidating than she would have an hour ago, but she lamented its return, knowing it meant he would leave before he spoke the words.
“Be right there.” Viktor grabbed his shirt and trousers, dressing in a flash. “Lock your door,” he said, kissing her before he jogged for the hallway, leaving the lantern on her desk. He paused with his hand on the knob, giving her a long backward look, and promised, “Later.”
“I’ll be here,” Ankari whispered.
Chapter 11
Viktor stopped in his quarters to grab his mesh vest, his optical sensor, and his weapons, then ran to the end of the hall, meeting Tick in the open room. He would have much preferred staying with Ankari for the night—or the week—especially after her... exquisite attention, but ignoring a threat could mean
death for all of them.
“Your sensors picked up something outside, Cap’n.” Tick might have knocked on his door first and might have wondered why Viktor hadn’t been in his room, but he didn’t say anything about it. He only held out the tablet, which Viktor had handed to him when he took over guard duty.
“A person?” Viktor asked.
“Nothing showed up on the camera. It could be a glitch—the storm’s been wreaking havoc on our comm equipment, after all—but I thought you’d want to be alerted.” For once, Tick wasn’t chomping on his gum. He eyed Viktor warily, like he knew he had interrupted something and wondered if he should have kept his mouth shut until he had more evidence. No, there were too few of them down here to take chances.
“Yes. I’ll check the sensor.” Viktor tapped the tablet. The one with the alert was out front, on the wall overlooking the stairs. “Wake up Hazel. Have her watch the women, then come find me.”
Tick resumed chewing his gum and nodded with relief. “Yes, sir.”
Viktor jogged for the front door, watching the shadows as he passed meditation and meeting rooms. Most of the candles around the shrine had gone out, though the one he had lit still burned. He cycled through the cameras and sensors before going outside, wanting to know if any images had been captured. The alarm by the gate beeped intermittently and irregularly, reporting an audio anomaly. According to the cameras, nothing had come up the steps, but he’d had limited equipment with him and the units were sparsely set. It was possible that someone had walked along the wall, approaching the camera from behind, though the person would have had to know it was there, and he had camouflaged all the units well. Was it possible his earlier search had missed someone hiding in the temple? Someone who might have watched him from the pagoda tower?
Rifle at the ready, Viktor stepped outside into the courtyard. A fine mist hung in the warm air, but the majority of the rain had stopped. The sky was lightening a hair, the first promise of dawn somewhere behind the mountains. He lowered his sensor over his left eye, surveying the courtyard with the enhanced vision. It parsed the shadows and gave him readouts on the temperature, humidity, altitude, and other conditions. When a shutter flapped open in the wind, it gave him a noise and motion detection alert, though his own human senses had already registered that particular movement.
Convinced nothing lurked in the courtyard, Viktor padded across the wet flagstones. Hazel had shut and locked the outer door, and it remained in that state. Instead of opening it, he jumped, caught the lip of the stone wall, and pulled himself up. Settling in a crouch, he observed the jungle and the landing strip far below, as well as the road winding up the mountainside. He didn’t see a soul, nor was anyone on the steep stairs carved into the cliff. He twitched his eye to activate the binocular function of the optical sensor and took a slow survey of the horizon. If Jarlboro’s ship was still out there, it wasn’t within ten miles.
A soft thump came from below, something heavy bumping against the wall. He scooted to the edge and peered down. He had seen death thousands of times and been ambushed so often, it took a lot to give him a start of fear, but his heart rate did jump up a few notches at the appearance of a body when he hadn’t expected one, one that wore a Mandrake Company patch on its shoulder. He couldn’t see the soldier’s face from the top-down view, but recognized the hair and the missing finger on the left hand. Rawlings. He hung from a hook on the wall, one meant for plant baskets, not corpses. When the wind blew, the body wobbled, bumping the stone occasionally. That was what the sensor was complaining about. But how had Rawlings gotten there without something showing up on the camera?
Viktor had anticipated the possibility of a shuttle coming down from above, and he had set a camera to monitor the possible approach routes from the sky. Was it possible some small craft had slipped through? Or...
He twisted to look at the cliff rising behind the temple. Inhospitable, craggy, and vertical, its thousand feet of height didn’t recommend it as a possible route into the compound. Still, he could have made the descent with minimal gear, and he couldn’t rule out the possibility that others might have come down that way, if they had been properly motivated. He couldn’t imagine them doing it while carrying a body, which suggested that Rawlings might have been alive at the time and climbed down with them. Coerced to do so? Or willingly assisting them to reach their goal? It hardly mattered now. Viktor couldn’t kill him again for betraying the company.
A hint of movement on the cliff toward the back of the temple drew his attention. Using the eyepiece, he enhanced his vision. A thin rope came into view.
Cursing, Viktor leaped into the courtyard. He would warn Hazel before going hunting. Or maybe he would just set traps and lie in wait around Ankari and her friends. He had just told Ankari he wanted to protect her. As much as he wanted to annihilate these people for threatening his company and trying to steal his prisoners, it didn’t make sense for him to run off on his own, especially when the shuttle should be coming back for them soon.
As soon as he opened the door, a feeling of concern—of dread—washed over him. It was quiet inside. Too quiet.
How long had he been out in the courtyard? Less than five minutes the clock on the Eytect told him, but Tick should have woken Hazel and joined him in that time. Maybe Rawlings’s body had been placed as a distraction, meant to give the intruders the time they needed to get in without dealing with Viktor.
He kept his snarl silent as he raced toward the sleeping quarters, cold fury burning in his veins. He sprinted around a corner only to halt abruptly, freezing like a statue when he spotted a limp body on the stone floor. Tick. A second figure was slumped unconscious against the wall a couple of steps farther on, someone in a thin, black form-fitting suit with a hood pulled over his head. It was different from the black clothing Jarlboro’s men had been wearing. For one, it didn’t register at all on the display of his eyepiece. It was as if the person wasn’t there at all, and nothing more than a deep shadow hugged the wall.
Beyond the two men, several of the hallway doors stood open, including the ones leading to Hazel’s and Viktor’s rooms, as well as the one to Ankari’s room. With thoughts of her filling his mind, he almost rushed straight in that direction, but he crouched to touch Tick’s throat. Viktor had lost numerous men over the years, but when he lost those from his home world, those who had been with him since the inception of Mandrake Company, it hit him hardest.
Tick didn’t stir at his touch, but a soft pulse beat beneath his skin. Only unconscious. Viktor would return to tend to him, but for now, he raced down the hall, pausing only to look in Hazel’s room. The covers were rumpled, but the bed was empty.
He ran for Ankari’s room next and only instinct kept him from charging inside, some warning niggling at the back of his mind. The lantern he had left on the desk was out. The window hadn’t been open before; it was now. Water dribbled from the wooden frame, and the wind whistled inside, smelling of moisture, the jungle, and... blood. There was a pool of it on the floor underneath the window. A feeling of numbness came over him, and he stepped toward it without thinking.
The warning tickling his mind rose in intensity. He jumped to the side, putting his back to the wall. At the same time, a black boot swung down, knocking his rifle from his hand.
Viktor leaped back to face the opponent falling from the ceiling. He punched, but the figure twisted in the air, evading the attack. Viktor yanked his dagger and a throwing knife free, as angry at himself as he was at his assailant. By now, he should have anticipated a threat from above; he shouldn’t have been staring at blood and worrying about Ankari.
In the darkness, Viktor didn’t see the laser pistol being aimed at him, but he knew it was there from the way the fighter crouched, his free hand guarding the weapon. Viktor hurled his throwing knife and threw himself sideways. The whine of a laser sounded, followed by shards of stone being blasted free from the wall, but the pained grunt of his opponent filled the air, too, and he knew his blade had
done at least some damage.
It wasn’t enough to slow his attacker. The lean man, hooded and clad in black like the figure in the hallway, leaped across the room. A blade flashed, cutting toward Viktor’s face. Already on his feet, Viktor threw a hard block, knocking his assailant’s arm up so he could rush into the opening with his own dagger. The point would have stabbed through flesh, but some thin armor lay beneath that sensor-thwarting clothing, and it deflected his blade.
A knee came up, ramming Viktor in the chest. He roared, scarcely feeling the pain, and tackled the other man. They went down in a flurry of blows, thrashing on the floor, each trying to find an advantage. Nails clawed at Viktor’s eyes even as he tried to pin his attacker. He squinted his lids shut, denying those probing fingers access to sensitive organs. He found the leverage he needed to roll the man onto his stomach. Viktor leaned into his back. An elbow struck his chest, but it didn’t have much power behind it, not when the man’s face was smashed into the floor.
The smell of blood reached his nostrils—they must have rolled close to that pool beneath the window—and it incensed Viktor. He roared and tore through the man’s last defenses, finding his skull with both hands. With adrenaline surging into his muscles, Viktor gave a great twist. Bone crunched, and a shudder coursed through his foe’s body.
A soft clunk came from above him. Viktor reared back from the fallen man, yanking another knife free, ready for another opponent. But it was Sergeant Hazel, crawling through the window, coming in from outside. Where had she been? Up on the roof? The windows looked out over the cliff. She landed on the floor with a grunt.
Mercenary Instinct (a science fiction romance) Page 18
