by Joanna Wylde
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s kvana, in a Beloni pepper glaze,” he said slowly. “It’s kind of my specialty. At least, when I can get the kvana.”
She shook her head, wondering how he’d gotten kvana. Then she took a bite. The meat was tender, flavorful without being too strong—perfectly balanced by the sweet glaze. After a moment her tongue began to burn, and she took a sip of the wine to cool it off. The strange shiver of sensation it caused wasn’t unexpected this time, but it was still startling. The stuff seemed to go straight down between her legs. She looked at him speculatively, wondering if it was doing the same thing to him.
He really was quite an attractive man.
They ate dinner slowly, keeping their conversation light. When they were done with the kvana, he brought her a small cup of flavored ice, to “cleanse her palate.” She was on her third glass of wine by that time, and feeling more than a little silly when he followed the ices with a platter of greens, cheeses and fruits, many of which she had never seen before.
He also opened a new bottle of wine, this one much lighter and fruitier.
“So, where did you learn to cook like this?’ she asked as they moved slowly out of the galley into the living area. At some point he had turned the garden program on in there, too, because they were still surrounded by the soothingly natural sights and sounds. Now, though, the lights had dimmed, as if to simulate evening.
“I learned to cook from my parents’ cook,” he said as they sat down on the low couch. “She was an amazing woman, a refugee from the Imperial Court. She loved exotic foods.”
“Where did you grow up that you could get stuff like this?” she asked. “I thought Saurellia was pretty out of the way, kinda primitive.”
He burst out laughing. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around her. She snuggled into his warmth. It was amazing how nice he could be when he wasn’t actually going out of his way to be an ass, she thought drowsily.
“We are a bit isolated,” he said finally. “But I hardly think that we’re backward. Saurellian customs and lifestyles tend to be simpler than Imperial customs, but that’s not a bad thing. For example, we don’t have to keep billions of slaves to support us. I may be crazy, but I find that to be rather civilized of us.”
“Well, you’ve got a point there,” she said softly. “Although I’ve never lived anywhere that had many slaves.”
“Really?” he asked. “What about Transit Three? Did you know that nearly 30 percent of the population there is slave?”
“What?” she asked, startled. “Where are they all?”
“Most of them live on the lower levels,” he said softly. “They’re the ones who provide the ‘transit’ of cargoes. Just out of curiosity, do you know what you friend Vetch does for a living?”
She sat up and looked at him.
“He runs cargo,” she said.
“What kind of cargo?”
“All kinds,” she replied, confused. “It just depends on where the money is.”
“Often, the money is in slaves,” he said. “They generally ship them with an assumed mortality rate of twenty-five percent. On his last run, Vetch lost thirty percent because one of his heat exchangers blew out. He still made a profit, though. In fact, he left some of it behind for you as a tip.”
She sat back, feeling sick. “I didn’t know that,” she said finally.
“Most Imperial citizens don’t,” he replied. “Of course, the Empire hardly goes out of their way to publicize it, but slavery is the backbone of their economy.”
“What about Saurellia?” she asked. “What’s the backbone of your economy?”
“Some would say fighting,” he said slowly. “At least for men like me. Almost all of us leave home to work as mercenaries sooner or later. But very few Saurellians hold slaves.”
“It is illegal?”
“On Saurellia it is,” he said. “But it’s just one planet within the federation. There are hundreds of others where slavery is legal. We do have economic sanctions in place to discourage it, though.”
“I’m sure that’s a great comfort to the slaves.”
“This isn’t going well, is it?” he asked finally. “I really don’t want to fight with you anymore, Giselle.”
“Why not?” she asked softly. “Honestly, why should you care? You have complete power over me—I’ve agreed to do whatever you want. Wasn’t that the plan?”
He fell silent for a moment, and then spoke again.
“Yes, that was the plan.”
“So why all the worry?” she asked softly.
“Because I don’t want to fight with you,” he said simply. “I don’t want to force you, either. When I thought you were a whore, I thought I could just pay you and everything would be all right. But I know now that you aren’t a whore, and to be honest, I’m not sure it would make a difference if you were. It just doesn’t feel right like this.”
“Does this mean you don’t want to have sex with me?’ she asked.
He gave a low, humorless laugh. “No, that’s not what it means.”
He reached over and took her hand in his. For a moment she wondered if he would lay it across his lap, repeating the crude gesture he’d made at Manya’s. But instead it carried it slowly to his mouth, turning it so her palm brushed his lips.
“I find that I just want to be near you,” he said after a moment. He kissed her palm softly, and she could feel the sensation singing down along her nerves. Between her legs there was an answering twinge, as if her body had just been waiting for him to make a move. He kissed her palm again, and then slipped his tongue out just enough to trace one line across her hand.
“It’s amazing to me,” he said. “We came from worlds that are thousands of light years apart, yet we’re made exactly the same. Same hands, same little wrinkles, same desires.”
“It’s why so many people have faith in the Goddess,” she said lightly. “Because no matter the distance between the human worlds, we all stay human. We’re tied together by our genes and our heritage.”
“Are we?” he asked. “I’m not so sure about that sometimes. Saurellians are different than most humans, you know. We can’t mate outside our species.”
She froze, and then carefully pulled her hand back from him.
“What the hell is going on here?” she asked, confused. “Call me crazy, but licking each other’s hands seems sort of like a prelude to mating. I’ve seen you down there, and you looked human enough to me before.”
He laughed, and then pulled her close again.
“I meant mating to have children,” he said. “I’m sorry, that did sound kind of strange. Saurellians can only mate with other Saurellians, and then only with a life mate. Unfortunately the Goddess hasn’t seen fit to grace us with enough women to match our men. Makes things a bit awkward for people like me.”
“People like you?”
“Men without a life mate,” he said. His mood seemed to change, and he turned to her, looking deeply into her eyes.
“This has been a very serious evening,” he said. “That’s not really what I was looking for. How about you?”
She shook her head, and then laughed a little out of nervousness. He constantly surprised her.
“No, not really,” she said. “But to be honest, I rather suspected we’d just have sex. We’ve already done more talking than I was anticipating, that’s for sure.”
He stood suddenly and pulled her to her feet.
“Talking isn’t getting us anywhere,” he said. “Let’s dance.”
She looked at him, eyes wide.
“You do realize that you’re an enormous man who looks like a killer and who wears black leather, right?” she asked.
He nodded his head slowly, and then grinned at her. “It’s an image I cultivate,” he said. “Helps me get women. But I can still dance.”
“All right then,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. “Are we going to have music for this danci
ng, or are we expected to sing?”
“I think music would be in order,” he replied, eyes sparkling. “Jenna, play us something good. Try the harvest festival recording.”
A swell of lively music burst into the room, and he grabbed her around the waist. She didn’t know the steps, but after a moment it didn’t seem to matter. He danced her across the room in giant, leaping strides, and she burst out laughing.
“You lied,” she gasped when the song ended. She could hardly catch her breath, and she clung to him, giggling. He looked down at her, smirking.
“How’s that?”
“You said you could dance,” she gasped, and he swung her around.
“Well, I didn’t say I could dance well. Jenna, let’s have something slower next.”
A new song welled out from Jenna’s hidden speakers. He pulled her close and they swayed together. Finally, she looked up at him and spoke.
“I think this is the weirdest date I’ve ever had,” she said.
“Thanks,” he replied, dropping his head to kiss the tip of her nose. “It’s just my way to trying to make myself memorable.”
“Are you telling me that this is all deliberate, all part of your great plan? Because I don’t believe that for one minute.”
He winked at her, and then pulled her head back down against his chest. She sighed, and snuggled into his warmth. He was so big, so strong. She could feel the strength in his arms around her. His chest was hard with muscles, but still warm. He smelled good, too. Like leather, and man.
“Why do you wear leather?’ she asked quietly. “It’s nice, but it’s not what most spacers wear.”
“I like how it feels,” he replied. “It’s natural, reminds me that humans belong on planets, not space stations.”
“Do you live on a planet, then?” she asked. “I thought you lived on this ship.”
“Unmated men my age don’t stay on planet,” he said after a long pause. “I guess it’s a reminder of what I could have had, in some ways.”
She stopped dancing and looked up at him. His expression was distant, and a bit sad. She didn’t like it.
“Why don’t you kiss me?” she asked.
He looked startled, then smiled again. He lowered his head slowly to hers, and then his lips touched her. They were firm but still soft, and they danced across her mouth with a self-control that did nothing to hide his strength. Then he turned his head to one side, and his lips opened across hers, deepening the kiss with an intensity that made her sag in his arms. His tongue pushed into her mouth, and she knew that for all his restraint earlier that evening, there could be no denying the depth of his need. They might have been back at the hallway in Manya’s. His arms wrapped tight around her body, pulling her belly against the hardness of his groin. He grew against her, and his tongue plunged into her again and again. There was no doubt what he was trying to communicate to her—he wanted to be inside her, to take her with an intensity that was frightening.
It was the most incredibly sexy thing she’d ever experienced.
She’d been with men before, but not like this. There had never been the sense that they would die without her. The urgency of his every touch, the feel of him as his hips pressed again her—it was almost too much. She wanted to scream, scratch, even bite at him. To do something to release some of the tension that was building in her body. But she couldn’t—her entire body was held motionless by his, his mouth dominating her totally.
After an endless kiss, he pulled his mouth back from hers and she opened her eyes unsteadily. His face was flushed, and his scar had deepened to a deep, dark red.
“Giselle, would you be willing to join me in my cabin this evening?” he asked, the formality of his words at complete odds with the embrace they’d just shared. She took a deep breath and replied fervently.
“Oh, yes.”
Chapter Six
He swooped her up in his arms, laughing—he could hardly believe how much her answer meant to him. Most of his women in the past had been paid for, and they always said yes. He’d never worried before now whether a woman actually meant it.
She laughed as he carried her down the hall. He loved how her curls bounced, loved how she wiggled against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tight, as if she actually enjoyed being held by him. When they got to the door, her mouth was too tightly attached to his for him to give an open command, so he bumped at the plate with his hip. Nothing.
Pulling his head away from hers, he muttered, “Damn, I can’t seem to get anything to go right tonight.”
She giggled as she slid down his body. Her hand snaked around to the front of his pants, cupping his erection lightly. “At least one thing seems to be doing just fine,” she muttered.
He slapped at the doorplate and it slid open. Together they stumbled into the small room, and he gave mental thanks to the Goddess that he’d opted for a full size bed. He’d never anticipated anyone to share it with, but he’d figured the extra sleeping space would be worth sacrificing some living space.
She ran her hands over his chest, clawing at his shirt and pulling it open. Then her hands were rubbing across him and she licked his left nipple fiercely. He shuddered, and pushed her back with a gasp. Her knees hit the bed and she went down. He followed her down, mouth gripping hers as his hands frantically scrabbled at her clothing. Her hips thrust up at him, and he could feel his own hips answering her rhythm. Every little movement sent the fabric of his pants scraping against his cock, and for a moment he thought he’d explode right then and there.
He had to do something, or there would be a repeat of his humiliation in the hostel.
He gripped each of her wrists with his hands, and brought them together over her head. He sat up, and she whimpered, gasping for breath.
“Why are you holding me prisoner?” she asked. “What did I do to deserve this?”
The look on her face was so indignant that he couldn’t help but laugh.
“I think you need some specialized attention before we go too much further,” he said gravely. “But for some reason, I tend to forget that whenever you move.”
“Hmmm…” she replied with gravity matching his own. “But how are you going to give me that kind of specialized attention if you’re busy holding my hands prisoner over my head?”
“Well, I was thinking I might tie you up,” he said thoughtfully.
“No!” she shrieked, bucking against him, giggling uncharacteristically.
He transferred both of her wrists to one hand, then reached down and tickled her stomach with the other. She shrieked again, and twisted against him.
“Truce!” she cried out. “Truce! You’re breaking our truce!”
“Well, do you have any suggestion for how I should deal with this dilemma?” He asked. “You obviously can’t be trusted not to wiggle.”
“What if I grip the top of the bed with my hands?” she asked hopefully. “If I promise not to let go, then you don’t have to tie me up.”
“Well, that would leave me free to have my wicked way with you,” he said seriously. “All right, we’ll give it a try. But if you don’t keep hold, I’m going to have to tie you up. Remember, this is for your own good.”
She laughed and nodded her head. He let her wrists go free and she twisted, turning both hands so she could grip the edge of the mattress.
“So,” she said archly. “Here I am, spread out at your mercy. What do you plan to do with me?”
He schooled his features into a grimace, barring his teeth at her. He knew he looked fearsome. “I’m going to take wild, passionate advantage of you.”
“You hide behind that scar way too much,” she said suddenly. “You can’t fool me any longer. You’re a nice man, and you aren’t going to hurt me.”
“You talk way too much,” he said, his expression darkening. “I’ll need to do something about that mouth of yours.”
Before she could reply, he lowered himself, covering her mouth with his. He kissed her dee
p and hard this time, pushing himself into her mouth the same way he wanted to push his lower body into hers. Damn, she was so soft and hot and open. Touching her was almost more than he could stand, but he’d be damned if he’d let her go.
He slid one hand down the front of her body, flicking at the tabs that held her jumpsuit shut. When he had enough of an opening, he slipped his hand in, tracing it across her stomach. He could feel her flinch against him, both on her skin and through her mouth. His fingers wandered down into the patch of hair between her legs. She was even hotter down there. He slid his fingers along her labia, dipping into her opening to catch some of that moisture, and then rubbing it up across the erect button of her clit. She jumped against him, and he lifted his mouth from hers to smile at her.
Her face flushed red again, and he leaned down to kiss one particularly big freckle on her chin.
“I like these little dots,” he said. “You look cute as hell.”
She tried to wrinkle her nose at him, but he wiggled his fingers again. She gasped, eyes closing and heaving her hips against his fingers.
“I don’t like being called cute,” she muttered after a few more gasps. “I think the word you were looking for is ‘Goddess’.”
He laughed again, and then kissed another freckle. She was trying so hard to look upset with him, but every time he twisted his fingers her entire body heaved with pleasure. He kept moving his fingers as he kissed across her chin and down the length of her neck. He nudged her jumpsuit aside with his nose, burrowing down and kissing the crevice between her breasts. Then he nudged the fabric aside to kiss up the slope of her breast.
He found the nipple in a moment, a large, pink peak of flesh that quivered in anticipation of his touch. He licked it once, twice, enjoying the sight of it as it tightened further. She muttered something, but he ignored it, fascinated by her nipple as he first blew across it and then licked it.
He turned his attention to the other side, deciding to kiss each freckle along the way. There were sixty-two of them, he discovered. Of course, it was hard to count because her body kept jerking as he worked her clit. But it was worth it, because by the time he finally reached the other nipple she moaned and gasped as if she were in pain.
