“I don’t need a medical degree to see that your head hurts and you’re taking it out on me.” His tone was calm, low, and husky, and that she found it sexy irked her even more.
“So now you’re a shrink.”
He’d barely glanced at her before turning to work on his beloved circuits, but it was so like him to notice details, even her wincing in pain.
Vivianne willed Jordan to turn around. “How did you do it? It’s as if you appeared in Barcelona six months ago. Until then, you had no credit. You attended no schools. Even your birth records are fake. I can’t find anyone who knew you before you walked into my office to apply for a job.”
“And you’ve never regretted it.”
“Until now.” Damn him.
“You don’t mean that.” Jordan shrugged again. “You don’t regret letting me design this ship.”
Vivianne hadn’t built up her company by allowing handsome men to sweet-talk her into trusting them or by ignoring urgent government warnings that alien agents may have infiltrated her company. Both Vivianne and the Tribes were after the Grail, but her goal was to save Earth, theirs was to enslave it. And according to legend, whoever possessed the Grail held the upper hand. So it was very possible that the reason her chief engineer had faked his past was because he was a spy—for the Tribes.
She couldn’t put Earth’s future into Jordan’s hands until she knew more. Feeling sick to her stomach, Vivianne’s tone snapped with authority. “Jordan, put down your tools. You can’t work on the Draco until security clears you.”
In typical Jordan fashion, he kept right on working. “Don’t you want to see if the new engine’s going to work?”
“We’ll straighten that out later.” Her temper flared because Jordan knew just how to pique her interest. From the get-go, the engines had been a major issue. It almost broke her hearts to know that the Draco might never fly now that she was pulling him off the project.
“I’m about ready to test a new power source.”
His words teased her curiosity as much as they raised her suspicions anew. “What are you talking about? What new power source?”
“The Ancient Staff.” Jordan reached to a sheath he wore on his belt and drew out an object that resembled a tree branch with symbols carved into the bark. When he flicked his wrist, the rod telescoped and expanded with a metallic click.
Oh, God. Had he just unsheathed an alien weapon?
The air around the Staff glittered like heat reflecting off hot pavement. It was if the Staff folded and compressed the space around it, the eerie effect and haze continuously rippling outward.
She peered at Jordan. The cords in his neck were tight, his broad shoulders tense as if he were bracing for her reaction.
She tried to tamp down a pinch of panic. “Don’t move.”
He turned to place the staff into position. “The Ancient Staff will supply far more power to the Draco’s engines than a cosmic converter.”
That Staff wasn’t in the plans. She’d never even heard of the mysterious artifact. For all she knew, that power source was alien technology and once he attached it to the Draco, they’d all blow up.
Hiring Jordan had been a gigantic mistake. One that might cost Earth… everything. Unnerved, she reached for her handheld communicator to call security, but there was no time. It would take only a second for him to snap the Ancient Staff into the housing.
She’d have to stop him herself. “Turn it off.”
“The Staff doesn’t have an off switch.”
Stiffening, she forced authority into her tone. “Don’t attach that thing to my ship.”
“It’s meant to—”
“I said no.” Mouth dry with apprehension, she clamped her hand on his shoulder.
Before she could yank him back, Jordan snapped the rod into place. The anxiety she’d been holding back knotted in her stomach. Sweat broke out on her brow, and her nerves stretched taut.
But controlling her fear was the least of her worries as the air around the rod shimmered, then spread up his arm.
Voice trembling, she asked, “What type of energy is this?”
“The powerful kind.”
“The engines can deal with that kind of power?”
“I hope so.”
Energy crawled all the way up his arm and stretched toward her hand. Terrified, she tried to jerk back, but her body refused to obey her mind. Her feet wouldn’t move. Her fingers might as well have been frozen.
Panicked, she watched the glow of energy flow over his shoulder to her hand. Every hair on the back of her neck standing on end, she braced for pain. But when the glowing energy engulfed her fingers and washed up her arm, then sluiced over her body, the tingling sensation somehow banished her headache and expelled her fear.
The effect was instantaneous and undeniable. Her breasts tingled. Her skin flamed as if they’d spent the past fifteen minutes engaging in foreplay rather than arguing over his nonexistent past. She’d always found Jordan attractive, but now it was as if the Staff had turned on a switch inside her.
She swallowed thickly. If he was feeling the same effects, he wasn’t showing it.
Every centimeter of her skin was demanding to be stroked. Unwarranted sensations exploded all over her erogenous zones. Her nipples tightened, exquisitely sensitized. The scales on the insides of her arms and legs fluttered. Sweet juice seeped between her thighs.
Drenched in pure lust, she shook her head, trying to clear it. “What the hell is going on?”
“Don’t know.” Jordan practically growled, as if it took superhuman effort just to speak.
So he felt as totally, inexplicably aroused as she did. Obviously, he wasn’t handling it well, either, but that didn’t stop desire from rushing through all her senses.
She craved him like a starving dragon needs platinum, yet this could not be. Not without an emotional connection. She didn’t do chemistry. She didn’t do one-nighters. She didn’t crave a man she barely knew, a man who was very likely a traitor.
But there was no fighting or denying the potent passion that blazed within her. Sexual need burned into her flesh, smoldered through her blood, the sensations fiery hot.
If she didn’t have sex in the next few seconds, she was certain she would spontaneously combust.
Beneath her hand, Jordan’s shoulder tensed. Mouth tight and grim, he turned and faced her head-on, those blue eyes seemingly searching into her soul. Tingling and breathless, she suddenly found it very hard to breathe. Heaven help her, she wanted him. It was a terrible thing to lose control over her own desire, to crave sex with a man she didn’t trust, but she could no more stop what was going to happen than she could prevent a hurricane.
Jordan was clearly caught in the same sexual firestorm. Eyes flashing with a primal blue-ringed flame, he focused on her with a fevered intensity, right before he crashed his hard mouth down on hers, his kiss so demanding he bruised her lips and her heart jolted.
Wrapping her arms around him, she arched her back and thrust her breasts against his chest. She ground her hips into his straining sex.
Lips locking, they ripped off their clothes. His flesh was smooth, muscled, male. She couldn’t breathe enough of his scent into her lungs. She couldn’t touch enough of his warm bronzed flesh to satisfy her cravings.
All coiled tension, he backed her against a bulkhead and she could see desire flash in his eyes, hear the sexual rasp in his breathing.
Wrapping her arms over his powerful shoulders and around his corded neck, she clamped her legs around his sturdy hips. And she attacked him like a savage, with lips and nails and teeth, while his strong hands clenched her bottom and he lifted her onto his straining sex.
She took him inside her, greeting his fullness with molten heat. She was burning, going up in flames. Nothing mattered—not her suspicions, not this raging spark of need that neither of them had kindled—nothing mattered, except having him.
When she squeezed her thighs, he groaned and pumped into he
r hard, deep, and fast. With cold steel at her back, his warm male flesh sliding over her and his sex thrusting in and out, she couldn’t get enough friction, couldn’t draw in enough air, couldn’t think past the mind-jarring explosion.
Powerful sensations, inexplicable pleasure swept her into a vortex of energy that took him over the edge with her. The pleasure was too extreme. No way could she hang on to consciousness.
Never will those who wage war tire of deception.
—THE ART OF WAR
2
Jordan opened his eyes to find himself floating in the engine compartment. Weightless.
Earlier, when Vivianne had accused him of lying about his past, he’d read the heightened suspicions in her eyes. He didn’t blame her. How could he when he didn’t have the credentials? Nor could he deny that the Staff was an alien object. He understood she thought he was an enemy mole. But he couldn’t risk her shutting down the project.
Nor could he risk his mission. So when he’d attached the Staff to the ship’s engines, he’d set a timer to launch the ship.
And the Draco was now in space.
Before Jordan could check the engines’ power, a memory slammed him. Not a recent memory. Not his memory.
“Vivianne, honey, come on down, and don’t forget your party hat.”
“I’m coming, Daddy.”
Vivianne placed the silver hat on her head and tugged the rubber band under her chin. With a giggle, she picked up her mom’s present and hurried to the kitchen, her mouth watering at the aroma of chocolate cake.
Dad was dancing Mom around the kitchen, singing “Happy Birthday.”
Mom was laughing, her hair all messy, her eyes happy. She twirled over to Vivianne and took her hand, and the three of them kept dancing around the kitchen until the oven timer went off.
Mom took the cake from the oven while Vivianne watched with impatience. As she held her mother’s present behind her back, she’d never felt so grown-up. She was seven years old and couldn’t wait to share the secret surprise.
Finally, Mom turned from the counter. Vivianne took her hand from behind her back and held up her present. “Happy birthday, Mom.”
“Oh, sweetie. You made me a present?”
“All by myself.” Vivianne had carefully made the card. Then she’d colored a picture and used it for wrapping paper.
Her parents looked at each other over her head. Her mother had questions in her eyes. Her father shook his head. “I know nothing.”
“Come on. Open it, Mom.” Vivianne couldn’t wait to see her expression.
“All right. This is going to be the best birthday ever.” First, Mom opened the card. And as she read, “Happy birthday, I love you very, very, very much. Love Vivianne,” tears filled her eyes. Mom’s fingers shook as she took care not to tear Vivianne’s wrapping, a picture of red roses.
Vivianne picked up the box and placed it back into her mother’s hands. “Open it, already.”
Her father chuckled. Her mom lifted the lid and gasped at the sight of two shiny silver chains, each with its own puzzle piece. “Oh, my goodness. Bless your heart. These are sterling.”
“One is for you, and the other for Daddy,” Vivianne told them, so excited she’d pulled off the surprise.
Her mother put the two silver pieces together, and her father read the words carved into the puzzle, “You are the missing piece to my puzzle.”
Vivianne jumped up and down. “Were you surprised? Do you like them?”
“I love them, and you totally surprised me.” Mom put one necklace around her neck and the other around Daddy’s. Then she picked up Vivianne, kissed her cheek, and hugged her tight. “Where did you find such pretty necklaces?”
“And how did you pay for them?” Daddy asked.
“My friend Allison’s mother makes jewelry, and I saved up my allowance for a whole year.”
Dad smoothed back Vivianne’s hair, his face proud. “That’s my little planner.”
The brush of Vivianne’s hair against Jordan’s cheek brought him out of the memory. What the hell had just happened?
Jordan had been through a lot of strange things during his very long lifetime, but the last few seconds of having someone else’s memory downloaded into his head was a first. Why and how had that birthday party ended up in his head?
Was Vivianne a telepath who could send and receive? He hadn’t ever heard even a rumor to that effect, but suppose she was getting his memories while he saw hers? He turned to look at her. If she was broadcasting or receiving, she didn’t seem aware of it. Her eyes remained closed, her breathing steady as she floated weightless.
Asleep but restless. Her eyelids fluttered, her fingers twitched, as if she were dreaming. The tiny motions only drew attention to her beauty, her high cheekbones, her slim fingers. Fingers that had clutched him with a desperate passion that teased his lips into a grin.
Even as he fought to grab hold of the hull so he could propel himself to the ship’s bridge, his own memories crept into his mind. Vivianne’s suspicions, her widened eyes at the sight of the Staff, her passion. Her blacking out as he’d launched the Draco.
He could only imagine her fury when she awakened and learned what he’d done. He supposed she’d see it as yet another reason to call him enemy.
And without a doubt, he knew she’d be furious if she learned that he’d had an inadvertent glimpse into her childhood. He’d deal with what had happened between them later. He’d deal with her later, too. Right now he had to focus on keeping the ship that he’d launched into space flying.
The steady purr of the engines told him that his sour-of-the-moment plan had worked. As he pulled himself toward the bridge, his clothing reassembled around his body, the nanotechnology repairing the rips.
Clothing was the least of his concerns. Those alarms could be due to leaking air, loss of pressure, or overheating engines. The ship was a few systems shy of ready. They hadn’t tested navigation or propulsion, not to mention that his untrained crew of civilian engineers had no experience in space.
They’d adjust. Adapt.
Yet Jordan knew only too well what it was like to be ripped from home. He remembered the crippling pain of the loss of his home world, Dominus. The terror of knowing he would forevermore be alone. The rage that he had survived when everyone else had died.
It was his destiny, his fate, and he’d lived through the centuries with a heavy heart and one purpose—to make sure his enemies never destroyed another world. The brutal loss of Dominus had cost him family, friends, teachers, everyone he’d ever known. Like Vivianne, he had come from a loving home. Although recalling his parents’ faces after so many centuries had become difficult, Jordan never, ever, forgot his vow—to make certain the Tribes fell.
But in all his years of living, he’d never experienced anything as simultaneously confusing and overpowering as his lust for Vivianne. When they came together, it was like two pieces of her missing puzzle. What the hell had happened when he’d connected the Staff to the power grid? He’d been on fire and out of control. And he’d never felt that way before. He’d had no choice but to drive into her, just as she hadn’t seemed to have a choice but to take him with equal ferocity.
He was sorry the sex happened that way, and baffled by how her childhood memory had ended up in his mind. But there was no time for regrets.
If that meant her feelings were hurt or that he had to take a bunch of raw recruits into space, then he’d do it. He didn’t like acting with ruthless disregard for the wishes of others, but he’d lived too long to go soft now. If it meant retrofitting the Draco along the way, he’d manage. Nothing was more important than stopping the Tribes. Nothing.
Of all those aboard the ship, Vivianne would be hit the hardest by her new circumstances. The Draco was his means to an end—finding the Holy Grail and stopping the Tribes before they reached Earth. Vivianne didn’t belong on this mission. But he couldn’t take her back to Earth without the risk of being arrested. Unfortunately for
her, out here there were no schedules to keep—just life-and-death decisions.
Jordan surged through the corridor and onto the Draco’s bridge, which was filled with engineers. “Lay off the controls.”
“Whatever you say.” Tennison threw his hands into the air.
Once upon a time, Tennison had been in charge of this team. But at sixty-five years of age, paunchy and bald as an eagle, he’d been happy to step back and let Jordan take the lead. Jerking away from the data stream on the monitor, Tennison bumped into Sean, who was studying the readings over his shoulder.
Sean was Jordan’s fix-it guy. He might be short on theory, but he had the knack for puttering. Over the last decade he’d worked on anything that moved—ships, airplanes, and heavy machinery.
“What’s going on?” Gray, the thirty-year-old chemical, mechanical, and industrial engineer had strapped himself into the communications system.
“Give Jordan a moment to assess.” Darren clung to a porthole and looked down at Earth. Quiet, thoughtful, and short in stature, the man thought first and spoke rarely. He was the best chess player among them, and although he could calculate differential equations in his head, he wasn’t worth a damn at poker.
“Someone help me.” Lyle, the most recent addition to the team, floated helplessly in midair. Ever since human resources had assigned him to Jordan’s team, the man had complained about the working conditions, the hours, the pay. Jordan had heard the gossip. A cheating wife, a nasty divorce. Alimony payments he couldn’t afford. But he performed his job well, even if he whined a lot. “I expect hazard pay added to my check, and I’m going to—”
“Silence.” Jordan had no time to coddle the man.
Of course, they weren’t prepared, and all hell had broken loose. Alarms screamed. Warning lights flickered.
“Damage reports?” Jordan asked.
“Communications are down,” Gray summarized, “and life support’s on the backup generator.”
Jordan grabbed hold of the command console, seized Lyle’s foot, and plucked him from the ceiling. A blinking light on the monitor drew his gaze back to the engineering readouts. Dozens of systems were in the red zone.
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