No Such Thing

by Michelle O'Leary

  Ryelle Soliere. He stiffened at the shiver that ran down his spine. A shiver of dread, he told himself, not eager anticipation. He wasn’t that much of a masochist. She’d destroyed him once and changed the course of his life. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen again.

  He remembered her chilly rejection and grimaced. He hadn’t been able to believe it, had been desperate to speak to her face to face. But she’d ignored his calls and didn’t return his messages. After her unbelievable resolution to the war, he’d tried one last time. When she didn’t respond, he’d resigned from the Odyssey and the Fleet, and fled. Pain followed like a sickly shadow.

  But he’d gotten over it, gotten over her. He’d picked himself up, moved on, and made a decent life for himself. His work for Mobulus was easily as satisfying as working on the Odyssey’s glorious engines and he wouldn’t give it up for anything. She would not destroy his life this time around. He would not allow it.

  He twitched when the com tingled under his fingers and pressed his lips together in grim annoyance as he answered it. "Yes?"

  "MC, we’ve got the telenetic’s transport incoming. You want I should go meet her at docking?"

  "No," he answered without thinking then gritted his teeth at the lost opportunity to avoid her. Expelling a harsh breath through his nose, he said, "I’ve got it. Let ‘em know where to park, Pete."

  "Already done."

  He sat for a moment, rapping his thumb in a hard rhythm against the edge of his desk, before he jerked to his feet and headed for the door. Traversing the narrow corridors to docking, he was aware of the tension in his muscles and knot in his stomach. It didn’t help his mood to realize he was stupidly nervous. Clenching his jaw with an inner growl of irritation, he stood at the entrance to the station from docking and watched the transport slip into its designated slot.

  He saw a slim shape duck through the hatch and move through the airlock, before the person stepped into the short corridor. She stopped abruptly as if the sight of him had startled her, far enough away that he wasn’t sure of her expression. But close enough to see clearly that it was Ryelle. And he saw with a stab of dread that she was even more beautiful than he remembered. More potent. He could already feel the tingling in his nerve endings, the seductive kiss of her power that he remembered far better in his dreams than he should.

  Her dark hair was much shorter, curling around her face in careless disarray. Her features had lost the softer lines of youth, becoming refined and delicately beautiful, like fine crystal. Her brow was smooth, without either a telenetic band or that damned malignant net he remembered with such revulsion. Her clothes were casual, a loose white blouse a little too open at the throat for his peace of mind and clinging brown slacks that showed far too much leg.

  Declan dragged his eyes away from her sleek thighs, remembering with regret the flowing dresses she used to wear. At least those damned things had hidden the curves he shouldn’t be staring at. The one thing that hadn’t changed was her eyes, those midnight eyes that sucked a man in and didn’t let go. Dangerous eyes. Declan felt the hard beat of his heart, the mist of sweat forming on his forehead, and cursed his lack of control.

  So she was beautiful. He’d known beautiful women before. He stiffened in instinctive rejection of the invisible touch that was so uniquely her, so intimately inviting. He refused to let her affect him like this, refused to let her get her claws back into him. It would only end in disaster.

  Ryelle stopped short just outside the airlock at the sight of Declan at the top of a small rise of stairs. She hadn’t expected to be greeted by him personally. She supposed she should have—she was a respected telenetic, after all. But the sight of him drove the air from her chest and sent her heart into an all out sprint.

  God help her, he was drop dead gorgeous. He wore a crisp dark gray uniform, but she could still see that he’d outgrown the lankiness of youth, his body filling out with hard muscle into a dangerous combination of sleekness and strength. His face had filled out as well, taking the awkward angles of his young features and smoothing them into strong, confident planes. The waves of his brown hair had been severely tamed by a short haircut, leaving only one rebellious curl over his forehead. And even from this distance, she could see the stunning, heart-stopping blue of his eyes.

  As she coached herself to breathe and not faint like a moron, Ryelle also took note of the man’s body language. She couldn’t read the nuances of his expression, but from the hard immobility of face and form, she’d have to guess that he was not at all happy to see her. No romantic reunion then, where she got to declare her undying love and throw herself into his arms. Bummer.

  Realizing that she was riveted and staring like a mooncalf, she moved toward him, intensely aware of his eyes on her and the whisper of clothing over her skin. A heat that she remembered very well bloomed deep within her body, shocking her with the strength of its ache. She’d enjoyed sex with men after Declan, but no one else had ever made her feel so desperate for their touch. She’d been disappointed to find that sex for her was pleasant and held some pleasure, but nowhere near the cataclysmic event she’d anticipated with Declan.

  Yet here her body was, on the fast road to a meltdown for a man who was glaring at her as though she’d just insulted his mother. Disconcerting, embarrassing, and pathetic. It seemed her need for this man had only gotten stronger over the years. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and tried on a reserved smile. "Hello, Declan."

  If anything, his expression darkened. "Telenetic Soliere. Welcome to Mobulus 3. The company appreciates the Institute’s swift response. A telenetic of your…stature was unexpected, though."

  Ryelle let out a deflated sigh. He hadn’t requested a telenetic just to see her. He’d also lost the sweet, warm honey lilt to his voice that she remembered so fondly. Her day was going downhill fast. "I couldn’t resist the challenge," she responded in a bland tone. "It’s good to see you again. You’re looking well." She tried not to drool on that last statement but wasn’t sure she’d succeeded.

  He ignored her pleasantries, not even flicking an eyelash in response. "Your bags will be transferred to your rooms. If you’re not too tired from the trip, I’ll debrief you in my office."

  She was fairly sure he hadn’t meant it to sound like a proposition, but that’s how her libido took it. Swallowing hard and trying to settle the fast trip of her heart, she said mildly, "Not tired at all. Lead on."

  He turned as she began to climb the stairs then startled her by spinning back around with a strangled curse. "What are you playing at?" he snarled, face dark with angry color.

  "Wh-what?"

  "Keep your goddamned talent to yourself, Soliere, or I’ll report you."

  "Oh, sark it," she breathed, hopping back a stair and reeling her talent in while her face tingled with a blush. "I’m sorry, Declan. I forgot how sensitive you are. I don’t contain it like I used to. I don’t think I can, actually. Lost the knack, plus I’ve grown stronger since I don’t try so hard to bottle it. And now I’m babbling like an idiot." She paused, taking a deep breath and studying him warily. "Are you all right?"

  He was staring at her with a strange expression on his face. "You got stronger?"

  "Well, yes. But I haven’t demolished anything in a while. I’m pretty sure your station’s safe. I really am sorry, Declan. I’ll keep it in check." I hope. She had met other sensitives and though they’d said that her touch was disconcertingly strong, none had exhibited anything other than a bit of discomfort. Certainly not the overwhelming pleasure that Declan had claimed to feel. The memory made heat spread in waves from her center to her fingertips, a circumstance that wasn’t going to help with her telenetic control.

  "See that you do," he growled and strode away down the narrow corridor.

  With a little grimace for his surly attitude, she followed, keeping a cautious distance between them. She focused on folding her talent away from him, but she was rusty at this form of control. Like an appendage whose
movement was second nature, her talent normally undulated around her in sedate waves. It took a strangely large amount of concentration to hold it back. How the hell had she contained it so tightly when she was young? Of course, that pain inducer had been strong motivation.

  He led her to a small office cluttered with electronics and mechanical devices, so very much his domain that she smiled. He settled behind a plain, serviceable desk and made an abrupt gesture at a chair without looking at her. "Have a seat."

  Ryelle moved forward, wondering when he’d lost that honeyed cadence to his voice. She missed it keenly. It was a central feature in many of her hottest dreams about him. She was about to sit when he hissed in a breath and jerked to his feet—she’d let her telenetic guard relax again. Jumping back with a curse, she met his hot blue gaze and furious expression with a wince of embarrassment while she reeled in her talent again.

  "Whoops," she croaked with a nervous chuckle as she backed toward the door. "Maybe we ought to, ah…do this over a viewer. Less temptation. I’ll just find my rooms and get back to you as soon as I can." She slipped out of the office and hurried down the corridor with a burning face. Temptation was right. Any more time in that man’s company and she’d likely end up in a gibbering puddle at his feet.

  A quick stop at a station terminal provided her with the location of her rooms and she found her way there, not seeing a soul on the way. Her rooms were unadorned but surprisingly large for the size of the station. She suspected they were used when the company heads paid a visit. On her way to the com unit, she noticed that her bags were stacked next to the door. Quick work—she was impressed.

  Standing in front of the com, she waved a hand at the holo-unit and braced herself. This wasn’t going to be pretty. Declan’s grim face appeared, his anger banked to a slow simmer in his brilliant, indigo-shot eyes. She felt a quiver weaken her muscles while her heart jumped around in her chest and almost rolled her eyes at her body’s inappropriate response. Lust and besotted happiness in the face of fury just wasn’t logical.

  "So now that we’re at a safe distance," she said in a droll tone, "how ‘bout we talk about why I’m here? Before we get into the specifics, though, we need to establish some way to keep in contact without you being in the line of fire. Something a little more private than…" She gestured at the holo-viewer and could see by the tightening of his features that he understood. She was pretty sure he didn’t want everyone on the station knowing what she could do to him.

  "I’ll set up a communicator link and send it over to you," he said in a flat voice. "In the mean time, we need to go over the situation. Another supply ship is due to arrive tomorrow."

  "I read the detail in your request. How long have the attacks been going on?"

  "About a month. There are always three attackers, midsized screamer-type ships, from the asteroid field. The miners haven’t seen them, my security can’t follow because they’re too fast, and we can’t figure out where they’re coming from. Nothing’s taken. There’ve been some injuries, but no deaths. I send out a salvage to collect the goods and crew, tow the wreckage in for repairs. Same thing happens next go around."

  His eyes had dropped from hers during his recital, his shoulders tense and thumbs tapping against one another in an aggravated rhythm. She could see that it frustrated him not to be able to fix the problem. Annoyed him to ask for help. He’d gotten used to having things his way, to being able to surmount any obstacle. She admired him for that but hoped it wouldn’t interfere with what she had to do.

  "Any recognizable pattern to their flight? Any routine direction they take?"

  "Just from the asteroid field, but they never exit or enter from the same place twice. Flight pattern is erratic. Not Fleet military piloting, but there’s still a cohesion there. They know what they’re doing. They’ve planned it, for whatever reason. Execute it without a flaw."

  "Hmm. I’d like to take a look at the asteroid field."

  "Two decks up you’ll find main operations. I can send somebody for you—"

  "I’m sure I can find it."

  "The communicator will be waiting for you."

  His face disappeared and she sighed. "I missed you, too, Declan," she whispered with a sour grimace. It was sick how much she had missed him and how delirious she felt just being in close proximity to him. Never mind his peculiar hostility. Just knowing she’d hear his voice again made her steps light as she left her new rooms and headed for main operations. Sick.

  The wormhole station’s main operations deck was what she’d expected—lots of shiny tech and incomprehensible holographic representations—but the atmosphere took her by surprise, considering her reception from the boss. The people in the sunken holo-suite as well as those in the rings above all had the relaxed air of a group comfortable with each other and their surroundings. One woman was so comfortable that she’d dressed in sleep attire with slippers on her feet, though Ryelle couldn’t tell if she was sleeping with the VR goggles over her eyes. Two young men were tossing a ball through a holo-display while having a heated discussion in some tech language that baffled her. About twenty people in all populated the operations deck and none of them looked disgruntled to be there. Nerd paradise.

  Ryelle paused at the entrance with a smile pulling at her lips, wondering who to approach in this sea of tech tranquility.

  "Oh, wow," a voice effused to her left and she glanced over to see a man about her age staring at her with round eyes and loose jaw, his pale hair flying wild around his head. "You’re the Mirabella Angel, aren’t you? Holy sheep shit, what are you doing here?"

  She raised her eyebrows, feeling the smile grow on her face, but before she could respond, he slapped himself on the forehead and grimaced theatrically.

  "Jackass! Sorry, Telenetic Soliere. MC didn’t tell us the Institute was sending you. Woulda rolled out a little more red carpet." He gave her a lopsided grin and held out his hand, then jerked it back with a horrified roll of his eyes. "Sorry! I’ve just never met a telenetic before. And I can’t get over the first one I meet is the stuff of legend. I’m Pete, by the way. Pete Browning, the MC’s go-to guy. Speaking of…" He plucked something from the pocket of his rumpled shirt and held it out. "He said to get you this."

  "Thank you, Pete," she said, taking the communicator. "Quite a place you’ve got here."

  "Yeah, we’re real proud of it," he said, turning to look out over the deck with hands planted on lean hips and a fond smile on his face. "Best run transfer point of the bunch, but that’s ‘cause MC’s here. Damned genius."

  She smiled and put the communicator in her ear. "I’m on, genius."

  There was a pause. Then Declan muttered, "You’ve met Pete," in her ear. She shivered in reaction, covering it by folding her arms over her chest. Even without the honey, his voice was dangerous to her equilibrium.

  "Pete’s bringing me up to speed," she said with a wink at the blushing man. "Perhaps I can steal him for a tour later."

  "Be a pleasure," Pete choked out, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he stared at her feet.

  "For me as well," she said smoothly. "May I have a look at the asteroid field, please?"

  Pete nodded and stepped to the rail, looking down into the holo-suite. "Hey, somebody juice up Big Daddy and get me visual on the ‘roids."

  No one appeared to pay him the slightest attention, but a second later, a dense hologram filled the room from one side to the other, showing a view of space so clear that it seemed she could step off the rail and float away.

  "Very nice," she said, fighting the urge to take a step back.

  "Pete, call up flight patterns for the attacks in order," Declan said, his voice ringing out through main operations as well as rumbling in her ear. "Show Telenetic Soliere the data we’ve got on them so far, visuals and stats." As Pete did something to make strange looking ships appear and run a series of lightning quick maneuvers, Declan continued, "You can see there’s no consistency in where they appear, though they always come in thr
ees. Our security’s tight, but they weren’t trained for this kind of thing."

  Ryelle hardly heard his words, listening to his deep voice murmur in her ear as quivers of heat ran up her spine. What she wouldn’t give for this to be real, for his lips to brush her ear as he whispered erotic things to her.

  "Mem?" Pete interrupted her lustful musings, his square face quizzical.

  "Oh, sorry. I was just having a fantasy about your boss’ voice. Can you show me one of those ships again? Do we know their origin?"

  Pete stared at her for a second, pale lashes framing wide hazel eyes, before he coughed into his fist and discreetly ignored her fantasy comment. Declan was ominously silent. "Not a known make or model, Mem. Quick little beggers, though, like a screamer or a flare. And we’ve never been able to trace where they go when they hit the field."

  "If I did a scan of that field, which way would I aim from this deck?"

  Pete pointed at an oblique angle to her left.

  "Thank you. Could we have a moment, please?"

  He blinked at her then seemed to understand she was including Declan in her plural. "Sure," he said and scampered down a short ramp to one of the rings, keeping a furtive watch on her from a work station.

  "Declan, where is your office from here? I’d like to do a scan, but I want to avoid any further…issues."

  "Behind you. You’re clear to scan."

  "Thank you," she murmured with a secret smile as his voice teased her once again. She was going to love having this communicator.

  Without changing her position, she reached out with her talent, past the station and intervening space to quest through the asteroids with careful thoroughness. She felt the ‘roid miners, contemplated the various lucrative materials composing the asteroids, and assumed they’d be at work for many years to come.