by Debra Jess
"Calling him ‘Naz’ or ‘Nazaniel’ is fine. It's not the type of advantage you need to beat someone. Of all the crew on board the Queen of Hearts, it's his opinion I value the most. He's as close to me as a brother, and he has his fingers on the pulse of this ship. My strategies at outmaneuvering Manitac or anyone else who comes between me and the next big score have nothing to do with managing people on board this ship. Naz handles people, I handle the Queen of Hearts. Manitac may have adopted a military-style hierarchy for its fleet, but such an organization won't work with the people I've chosen to join me. It's a partnership Naz and I have cultivated since we were kids. I see no reason to change it now."
Now she stood in front of him, already finding his abs with her hands, digging her thumbs into his muscles as she slid her hands slow up toward his chest. "Okay. I'm here in your quarters. Naz said to get it out of our system. So the question is, how do you want to get it out of your system?"
Without looking down, he managed to grab her wrists before they reached his shoulders. "Nice try. How about we get it out of our system after you tell me what you left out of your report?"
"I don't know what you mean." She tried to tug her hands out of his grip.
Instead of letting her go, he squeezed tighter, pulling her toward him. "Don't lie to me. You might be able to blow stardust up Manitac's ass, and you might be able to fool Naz, but you can't hide your true self from me."
"I told you the truth. Every word."
She kept tugging, but he continued to hold tight, her diminished muscles unable to break free. "I believe you did, but you're too much like me, and I know under the circumstances, I would hold back pertinent information if I didn't completely trust my captors."
"You didn't capture me—you rescued me."
"And you manipulated me into it. I get it, and it doesn't matter now. All that matters is that you tell me what you're holding back."
She tugged harder, almost breaking his grip, losing all her humor. "I can't."
"You have to, or this isn't going to work."
"You'd give up finding the Majesty of the Stars?"
"Not a chance, but you'll make it harder for me to do so if I have to force the information out of you." A small grimace crossed her face. His grip was hurting her, so he eased back a little to keep her looking at him and not at their hands. "Don't make me have to force you."
He didn't expect her to twist her whole body and jam an elbow into his jaw. The second he let go of her, she backed away and stumbled onto the couch, sitting down before she fell down. Immediately, she leaned forward, her head to her knees, clearly out of breath by such a simple defensive move.
Aching jaw aside, she hadn't hurt him too badly, and she could have if she’d wanted to. Any other person, he'd have retaliated with his fists, but instead of charging at her to regain the advantage, he let her sit there and recover. It irked him that he felt like an ass for threatening her. He shouldn’t feel that way, but he did. This woman had really gotten him hooked. After a minute, she sat up, her gaze shifting back and forth, looking everywhere and anywhere he wasn't. He could tell she was considering his words.
"If I tell you," she said, finally, "you won't like what I have to say."
"Let me be the judge of what I like or don't like."
"You want me to trust you just like that?"
"You trusted me to rescue you."
She huffed her annoyance, stalling for time. "We had mutual goals, and you can't resist a challenge."
"Are you saying we don't have mutual goals now?"
"It's complicated." A throw pillow found its way into her lap, and she gripped the trimmed edges.
"So why don't you uncomplicate it for me?"
"Let's say I do tell you and you don't believe what I say?"
"Regardless of my belief in you, we're still going to find the Majesty of the Stars. Isn't that why you started this whole charade in the first place?"
When she hesitated, he knew he was close, so close, but the truth was still elusive.
"Yes, but you were planning to kidnap me to get the information. You had already decided to find the Majesty of the Stars. You didn't need my permission to do it."
"Not your permission, just your information. With you on our side, finding the Majesty of the Stars will be a lot faster."
Her sigh held the secrets of nearly two decades. "I'm going to need a drink for this."
"Sorry, doctor's orders. Naz will fire me out of the portside cannon if I get you drunk again."
"Bully for Naz. You're not giving me the drink—I'm taking it for myself."
When she stood, he stepped up to stand between her and the bar. Her harsh breath tickled his chin, fanning the flames he should have doused. He gripped her shoulders and sat her back down. This time, he joined her to make sure she stayed where he put her. To ensure her compliance, he shoved the meal-in-a-mug into her hand.
"Drink this instead," he commanded.
"You're really going to make me do this sober, aren't you?"
"If I thought the alcohol would make this easier for you, I'd let you have it. I suspect that it really isn't going to help you much."
"Fine. I'll tell you everything I didn't tell the others. Remember, you asked for this. It's not my fault if you die choking on your disbelief."
"Sounds intriguing."
"Intriguing isn't the word for it." She hit him with a harsh glare one last time before shoving herself into the corner of the couch and gulping down half the mug, and then reached for the pillow to crush against her chest. Like before, she looked everywhere except at him, which gave him a chance to cool himself down.
"When I first found my father, I noticed his wounds. The raw, red lacerations covered most of his face and neck, like half-healed scabs, as if he'd been hit with a cluster disperser set just below the kill setting.” Her words halted, and she swallowed hard.
Several long moments passed before she went on. "Anyway, I knew he was dead, so I left the cabin and started to follow the path left open by the security nets. On the other side of the nets, there were bodies scattered. I tried not to look, but at certain junctures it was unavoidable. Getting to the nearest escape pod didn't take long. There was a bank of two dozen close to the bridge, which was where our cabin was located. The sheer number of pods required for so many passengers made the corridor quite long. The pods already had the holo instructions broadcasting, but there were so many dead bodies between me and the pod. I stopped to look for a pod without bodies. There weren't any, but at the opposite end of the corridor, there was…"
Emotions poured over her face, all pretense of keeping cool, detached, and flirty was gone. Grief, clearly; horror, most definitely; but then anger settled, scrunching her features into a pinched, painful visage that he didn't recognize. Her anger matched his own white-hot rage that had settled over his soul when he heard the news anchor gleefully announcing the destruction of the Iron Heart.
Without thinking about his actions, he offered her a gentle rub along the shoulders. Her lack of reaction made him wonder if she even noticed, but he still guided her to turn around and applied more pressure to her shoulders.
"What did you see, Shade?" he whispered into her ear. "You can tell me, and I promise I'll believe you."
"A cloud." She spoke in a small, hesitant voice, so quiet he had to lean even closer to hear her. "A large black cloud that reached from the deck to ceiling with gold stars circling inside it."
"An exhaust discharge?"
"No. It hovered at the end of the corridor, watching me, but then it floated toward me. Slow? Fast? I don't know, but I was frozen in fear. I couldn't move away, couldn't make myself crawl over the bodies back the way I came. It killed them. I knew it as it sped faster, crackling and snapping, the stars inside circling faster and faster. It felt…intelligent. It was hungry, devouring everything in its path." A shiver shook her entire frame. "Even as I fell onto my backside, crab crawling over the bodies to get to one of the pods, it still
caught up with me…and stopped. I sat there gaping at it, for I don't know how long, but the stars slowed their spinning…it just sat there, like it was analyzing me."
"So you think this cloud was an alien?"
A small, sad nod confirmed it. It took all his willpower not to sigh. What she described was unusual but not unexplainable, especially considering how young she was and the stress she had been under. If she misremembered the details, who could blame her?
"And this is why you want to find the Majesty of the Stars. You want to validate that what you experienced was real."
Another nod came, but with more vigor.
"What do you think it was?"
When she twisted around, decades of pain flared, a hatred as powerful as the one he experienced so long ago.
"I don't care what it was. After I find it, I'm going to kill it."
Chapter Eleven
Hart disappeared behind the visual of the Majesty's dead in her mind's eye. Most days, she could suppress her emotions so they couldn't interfere with her daily duties. Some days, she could even go to bed feeling good about herself and all that she'd accomplished. Those days came to an end when Manitac turned down her most recent request to search for the Majesty of the Stars.
When the rejection arrived, she had turned the bridge over to her second-in-command and locked herself in her quarters for the rest of the day. Puppets had more thought processes than she had at that moment. After the shock passed, she drank away her fury. Two decades had been wasted, climbing the ranks, beating out anyone and everyone who stood in her way. She'd foolishly thought if she made herself indispensable to Manitac, if she made her arguments for the search irrefutable, appealing to Manitac's greed by reminding them of the wealth to be found on the ship, that they would grant her wish. None of it mattered to the board of directors.
Nothing left for her to do except plan another path to get what she wanted.
Planning gave her purpose again, sundering her belief that her status in Manitac actually meant something to her. It didn't. Manitac was nothing more than a means to an end, an end she failed to find. No longer would she mistake her own complacency for patience. The universe did not owe her a shot at vengeance, certainly not through a corporation she'd tried so hard to impress.
All through her confession, Hart kept his hands moving, massaging, but never wandering anywhere other than her shoulders. At any point he could have taken advantage of her weakness, but instead he listened. Maybe he thought she would say something useful, a clue she had missed during her ordeal because she was too emotional about the whole nightmare.
Whatever his reasons, the longer he touched, the more relaxed she became. The bodies disappeared, and her vision sharpened. On the wall, the Tiroco painting's swirl of colors and light soothed the parts of her Hart couldn't touch.
Dragging herself from the past to the present had its consequences. Hart became more intense, his massage more meaningful, the connection between them strengthened. Who knew threatening murder and mayhem was such a turn on? Or maybe she didn't want to wait until Hart started laughing at the idea of killer alien clouds. Before either happened, she turned to face him and then launched herself from the corner of the couch to plaster her lips onto his.
At least this time she was sober, so there was no excuse for him not to kiss her back. His immediate mastery of her sex-starved body bypassed all her usual rules of engagement, the excuses she used to hold back her emotions so there was no chance her heart became entangled in the distractions of a relationship.
"Bedroom, now," she ordered.
Despite her height, he managed to pick her up by cupping her backside into his large hands, pressing her against his abdomen while he stood. She wrapped her legs around his waist, squirming to kick off her boots. The side effect caused friction in just the right place, squeezing a sigh of ecstasy from her.
All her noise must have distracted him because instead of laying her gently on the bed, they both tumbled over the frame, jerking the automatic adjuster awake, which worsened the situation by trying to compensate for the extra weight.
The fury of reliving the horror of the massacre became an afterthought as she ran her hands down Hart's torso, looking for the release to his pants.
Found it. With a jerk, she freed the more interesting part of his body while he did the same with her shirt. Tossing their clothes aside, she ignored the hardness pressed between her legs while tracing her fingers around his hip to smack the tense muscles along his backside before rubbing up his back so she could clutch him by the neck.
No more fooling around. "Kiss me again. Like you mean it."
He did without hesitation, the savory taste of dinner on his tongue as it raced between her teeth, capturing her next breath before she exhaled.
Oh, sweet Stars.
He slid his fingers easily inside her, the friction like no other sensation in the galaxy. Light exploded behind her eyes as he pushed in and out until he almost withdrew before pushing back inside.
Oh, yes, right there!
His thumb caught the most sensitive part of her with a rub that almost made her lose control.
"Not yet," he commanded, pulling out of her. "Wait for it."
Beast! After waiting eighteen months, with all her energy laser pointed toward her mission, ensuring that each lie held a ring of truth, that each bread crumb she left behind was found, there had been nothing left for her, just her, the woman who had a desire buried so deep under her scrabble for revenge, for justice, that she'd almost forgot it existed. A gasp broke through her control, taking her by surprise.
Instead of finishing her, Hart pulled out and cupped her again, keeping her still. Convinced he had her secured, he rolled them both over, careful not to roll off the bed, pushing himself on top of her.
"Too fast. Let's slow this down."
Oh, no. Two could play at this game. Lifting her hips by curling her abdominal muscles, she hovered at the tip of his hardness to give him a taste, but no more.
He growled, realizing that taking control from her was a futile effort.
Ha!
He gripped her fists, holding them away from his chest. Oh, how she wanted to run them through the forest of hair covering his chest! They wrestled for a minute with Hart trying to playfully force her to lie still.
Nope, no stillness for her pirate.
Your pirate?
The thought made her hesitate too long. Taking advantage, Hart thrust his tip inside her, stretching her, making her feel each millimeter of his length as he slowly moved above her. She tasted blood from where she'd bit her lip to keep from crying out.
He stopped.
"Noooo. Keep going."
"In a moment." His chin scratched her breast as he nipped her left nipple.
Blast that man.
Pressing her heels into the mattress, she tried to angle her hips higher, rubbing herself against him while attempting to force him deeper. Her tactic worked, and Hart pushed himself all the way, making her nerves tingle with delight. Friction against her most sensitive nerves made her gasp as he started to rock with her. She matched his rhythm until they both came in unison, the song of their pleasure echoing off the walls.
It took a minute for the rush of blood to clear from her ears so she could hear Hart.
"Are you okay?"
Was she? She would have thought having a woman gasping for breath after mind-blowing sex was routine for someone like Hart. Except no matter how much air she sucked into her lungs, it wasn't enough. Her muscles ached with overuse, her body not ready for such strenuous activity.
"Turn over."
What? Warm hands gently pushed her right shoulder until she turned to her side. Once settled, that same hand rubbed her back in a soothing rhythm. Without even trying, her breathing evened out and her body relaxed even more than it already was.
"Ummmmmm, that feels nice. You missed your calling as a masseuse."
Hart didn't respond. He just kept up the rhythm unti
l, against her will, her eyes closed.
Which was a mistake, because in doing so she turned all control over to Hart. He might have given her the orgasm of her life, but he wasn't done with her. The light massage became deeper, more insistent, his hands wandering away from her shoulders to grip her arms before slipping between her and the sheets to cup her breasts.
Rising up onto her elbows, she rubbed her backside against him, teasing him until she could feel his hardness, ramping up his breath. Any doubts about going another round died before she could rethink her actions. His knee separated her legs again, giving her the opportunity to meet him as he thrust himself inside.
Matching his thrusts from a half plank was again too much for her weakened muscles, so she lowered herself onto the bed. This forced him to fight the sheets as he squeezed one hand between her and the bed, but he found his target despite the tightness, creating that desperately needed friction again, slipping his fingers along her nub, teasing her with the promise until he slid deeper again, setting a rhythm as fast and wicked as she expected from a pirate. Her pleasure rose higher and higher until she cried out again as her over-sensitized nerves fired sparks to every cell of her body.
Ever so thoughtful, he collapsed to one side of her instead of crushing her underneath. There had been a time when she could have gone another round, maybe two, but her body just couldn't scrape together the energy reserves for more pleasure, no matter how much she craved his touch.
They lay side by side, not talking, just touching as they caught their breath. Before her eyes could close as tiredness took over, Hart slowly pulled the silky sheets down her body.
"Ladies first." With a small hand gesture, he motioned her toward the wet room. Could she make it? Yes, she would, if only to acknowledge that he wasn't going to bore her by blathering on about how great she was in bed and maybe they'd try again after she rested.
