by Imogene Nix
He captured her gaze, his eyes burning, and she had to turn away from him.
Dria glanced down, and for the first time, she realized he wore very little. All that covered him was a short pair of pants and a tank top baring his shoulders and outlining the muscles of his chest.
Oh my God! How impressive are those muscles? Her eyes traveled down, catching sight of the bulge in his pants, but she kept them going and noted the scars on his leg; threads of red and pink, denoting healing scars. Her gaze traveled back to his shoulders.
“Are you...” He cleared his throat and glanced away. “Are you comfortable in here? I know it’s not quite the same comfort level as the hotel, but...” His shrug was tight and quick, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.
“Yes. It’s... It’s similar to my home on Dirustandi. I live on the base. It reminds me of this.” Her stomach jiggled a little, betraying her nerves and interest in the super sexy Marcus Vane. “Why don’t you sit down? I have something to discuss with you.”
She turned away, sure she’d jump on him if she wasn’t occupied. Reaching for the light, she switched it on. Only when she turned toward him did she realize how revealing her outfit was. A light cami top and panties didn’t cover much.
“What did you wish to talk about?” The sound of his gravelly voice raked over her.
She gulped and with great difficulty dragged her gaze away from the sight of his chest. “I found... I found the tracker you placed on me. Or rather, my clothes.”
“Ahh.” He looked uncomfortable. “It’s so I know where you are. For your safety.”
“Well, it could very well have been the reason they found me. You do realize that, don’t you?” The fog of interest dissipated as she aired her concern. “That’s why I don’t wear one.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But while you’re on Earth, you will have one. It’s part of our security protocol, and your minders and parents agreed to it.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand.
“Please, Turana. Even if it’s just to keep the pen pushers happy.” He smiled, and the softening of his face had her close to hyperventilation.
Her nipples pebbled into tight buds of hunger, jutting against the light cotton. It took every ounce of willpower for her to refrain from covering herself.
Dria knew the instant he realized just how aroused she was by him. His eyes turned smoky. His gaze drifted to her chest.
“I... Uh...” Intelligent thought fled as the rapid thumpa-thumpa-thump of her pulse ratcheted up. She reached out, needing the touch of his skin.
“Turana...” His deep voice rippled over her, and she was sure stepping forward was the right choice.
The Ba’Tuan part of her mind screamed that this action made no sense, as her foot moved, stepping toward the man who intrigued and attracted her. “I... Marcus, if you don’t feel...”
“Ishouldleave.”
His strangled words stopped her in her tracks, hitting her hard and stealing the breath from her lungs. He doesn’t want me. Never had she thought that a man turning away would gut her like this. An integral part of her being, maybe it was her soul, cried out in anguish.
Carefully, with great deliberation, she pulled her hand back against her body, hoping the tearing pain didn’t show. “Of course. I appreciate you apprising me of the findings.”
Without a further word he spun on his heel and left.
A single tear escaped and burned a track down her face. She knew if she called, he’d return to the room, but consoling her wasn’t enough. With a growl, Dria strode to the table and snatched up her personal communicator. Any hope of sleep had fled, so instead she’d work.
“It’s never failed me before.”
For the first time, she realized that in disengaging herself from her peers, she had turned her back on companionship. There was no one she could ask for aid or assistance in matters of the heart.
She turned away from pondering her confused emotions and tugged her tiny handheld comp-screen closer. Dria logged into the security system and began a tactical search.
* * * *
Marcus lumbered down the hall and settled himself into his room, slumping to the bed with an oomph.
I want her. God help me!
She was the only woman since... Marcus refused to allow the other woman into his thoughts. But the Turana, she was so far above his pay grade that he might as well be asking for the moon.
She was royalty, and he... He was nothing more than a damaged fighter with a questionable past and not much of a future if he couldn’t make this mission work.
The memory of the Turana rekindled the erection he’d been sporting since leaving her room. He’d noted the rosebud points of her nipples, the way they jutted against the material, and it had taken every ounce of his resistance to drag himself away.
“She’s more than some piece of ass, you fool.”
Tugging his hand through his hair, he wondered if the world was conspiring to tease him with beautiful and barely dressed women—first the devious Christina, and now the Turana Dria. He’d seen the way her cheeks had pinked and her breathing accelerated. The way her eyes dilated.
Classic symptoms.
He worked on banishing the thoughts that filled his mind by reaching for the file his staff had amassed. He’d start by reading through the statements his people had collected after the explosion at the airfield, then he’d look a little closer at the staff of both the airfield and the refueling station.
The stories they all told were similar. They all seem to have arrived at their usual time, and security inspections found nothing unusual.
Although they had determined the initiation site of the explosion, they knew very little else.
He thumbed through the pages of the refueling station information. He read of the minimal security after hours, that the cameras had a glitch from twenty-three hundred hours through to oh-one hundred, so the feed was grainy.
His people had uploaded the footage and a live link posted direct to his mini-comp. He booted it and the sound of static filled the air. “Dammit.”
“System does not recognize that command. Rephrase.”
A burst of anger flashed, but he tamped it down. “Enhance video. Remove static.”
“Command acknowledged.” The screen blipped.
What else was there? Correlations between those known at the refueling station and those employed at the airstrip. “Run connections between refueling station personnel and airfield staff.” He doubted anything would pop. They were searching for a needle in a haystack.
“Concurrent command?” The voice of the mini-comp demanded an immediate answer.
“Yes. Save all findings, then shut down.”
The grittiness of his eyes and the drag of exhaustion urged him to rest. Checking the time on the clock, he realized dawn was mere hours away. He’d need some sleep. Who knew what tomorrow would throw at them?
Marcus slid the comp to the bedside table and lay down on his bed.
Without the distractions of the computer, his mind wandered, examining his interactions with the Turana. He replayed every word and nuance.
Based on the responses she’d given him while preparing for entry to Earth, he hadn’t expected much from her, but now that he’d met her, his grasp of her nature had changed significantly. Dria—the Turana, his mind unhelpfully added—was unflappable, quick-witted, and able to look after herself.
She was also breathtakingly beautiful and exhibited none of the inhibitions most pure Ba’Tua struggled with. That she had some hidden vulnerability did more than just pique his interest, and that angered and confused him. I can’t afford this kind of distraction. I should have learned that from previous experience with Christina.
“To hell with this.” With a grunt he rolled over and tugged the sheet up. “Think about something else.”
In his mind he started to recite the twelve precepts of the Ba’Tua and Earth agreement. If that didn’t
dull his ardor, nothing would.
He only had to recite it three times before sleep claimed him.
* * * *
Morning came swiftly. The glow from the sun filtered through the curtains as Dria rose. She carefully scraped back her hair, tying it into a loose bun. Then she dressed in a loose gown, tied with a ribbon below her bust.
“Cosmetics next.” The daily routine her mother and young Verala had impressed on her during the planning and journey left her grimacing, but she reached for the small packet she’d carried off the ship. With care she applied the creams and powders as they’d schooled her, then she stood back. “Not as good as they’d do, but it’ll do.”
She slid her feet into the shoes she’d chosen and drew a deep breath. No matter how hard she’d tried during the night to contain the attraction she felt, the thought of seeing Commander Vane filled her with warmth.
Dria opened the door and strode out, projecting what she hoped was a confident air as she prepared for a day of official engagements and tactical maneuvering.
“Princess? Uh, Turana?” an unfamiliar male voice called to her.
She spun around, nearly falling, but Marcus, who’d just entered the hallway, reached out, his grip sure and strong as he steadied her. Zings of something close to instantaneous arousal ricocheted through her.
She focused on the young man ahead of her, trying to ignore the recognition of the man at her back. The young officer’s uniform carried the regulation pressmarks at the side of his pant legs and shirt. The dark hair a shining cap of black and the blue eyes were piercing in their intensity.
“Yes?” She struggled to keep her spine straight as she answered. Her body almost betraying her, the urge to lean back and accept whatever kind of connection she could get from him nipping at her mind. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Yes. Your vehicle will be here soon, and I wondered what you’d like for breakfast.” The anxious tone in the officer’s voice carried a touch of obsequiousness. She shrugged it off.
She was here as a VIP to Earth, and it was natural that someone in a lesser position would wish to please her. She’d seen it before with subordinates. There was nothing to gain by ignoring the differences in their positions, except in the long term it would make it harder to request something they were unwilling to do.
Dria subdued the natural urge to overcome the barrier. I’m not here to make friends. I need to find the weak link and deal with the Incubi.
“Fruit and tea would be lovely, thank you. Maybe some yogurt, if you have it? I doubt the commander has eaten yet, so you could arrange his meal at the same time.” She didn’t know what imp of mischief had her speaking for the commander, but it was said and done now. “If you could please deliver it to his dining room as soon as possible.” She smiled serenely, softening the dismissal before she turned to face Marcus Vane. “We have things to discuss. I received information from the tactical team.”
His eyes flicked over her, and for a minute she was sure he looked a little bewildered at her tone. Then he gave an almost infinitesimal nod. “Of course, Turana.”
How she hated the way he said that! And isn’t that just stupid? He made it clear last night that he’s not interested in you.
He gestured down the small hallway leading to a dining room. Once there, he pulled out a chair as she hovered. The old-fashioned behavior entranced her, and she had to tamp down the urge to thank him.
She slid carefully into the seat, practicing the genteel action she’d been taught. Her gown slid a little and she sighed, the sound emerging before she could stop it.
“I can only imagine how limiting all that material must be.” He softened his words with a tiny grin and she returned it.
“I’d rather be in full combat gear. This feels—” Dria waved her hands in the air. “It feels downright alien.” She laughed lightly at her words. He joined in, and the cool atmosphere between them warmed slightly.
“So, what have you found out?” He took the seat opposite her.
Dria rubbed her fingertips over the wooden surface of the table. “The tactical team found an unusual signature of chemicals. It seems the explosive is not one that is available on the market here on Earth. That means they have someone with enough know-how to produce their own munitions.”
His brows drew together and he leaned back in the seat. “Do they have a chemical breakdown yet?”
Dria cocked her head to one side. “What an interesting question. It’s the first one I asked of them. I wanted to know the makeup in case there was something interesting, and there was. They used cephatic intuvera.”
His head jerked up, his eyes locked on hers, and she knew the information had caught his attention.
“I know.” She nodded. “It’s a new import from Dirustandi. I remember my parents discussing it and the rigmarole the government had to go through to get it on the acceptable imports list.”
“So you’ve...”
A broad smile broke over her face. “I’ve already requested a list of importing houses and those with purchasing agreements. I’ve also requested details of the breakdown of the chemical proportions, and I’ve started to work on the computations for the chemical mass. Once that’s complete, we’ll know how much was required to produce the explosive device. I believe it will be quite a substantial amount.” She bit her lip, wondering what she’d missed.
“And given what you’re saying, there will be a footprint.” He scratched at the top of his head and several dark hairs stood upright.
She itched to smooth those hairs down, and curled her fingers into a fist. A knock on the door of the dining room was a welcome distraction.
In unison they both called out, “Come in.” That amused her.
The young officer who’d questioned her in the hallway entered the room, carrying two trays. “Your breakfast, uh, Turana.”
Dria struggled to remember his name... Simpson, wasn’t it?
A bowl of chopped fruits and a container of pink yogurt fought for space with a large frosted fruit juice sitting beside a steaming cup of tea. The young man bowed deeply as he placed the tray before her. The same was delivered to Marcus, minus the bow, she noted.
Once they were alone again she lifted her spoon and tasted the yogurt, grimacing at the bite.
“Overnight I ran the names of the airfield and refueling station staff through the world-wide citizen census, but it’s a time consuming search. With millions of names and associations to check I don’t expect an answer before tonight or tomorrow. My people have also checked the video feeds for the two locations. At the refueling station we found a glitch for a period of about three hours. The camera caught black and haze. Nothing else.” His eyes roamed her face as he spoke.
“I see. Will you be able to clear the haze?” Her stomach was starting to rebel slightly at the bitter tang, so she shoved the yogurt away.
“Don’t like it?” His brow furrowed.
“It’s not quite to my taste.” She attempted to be diplomatic, the training Joruzan had tried to force on her over the years raised its head.
“Oh. I suppose many things are different here, but you’d be used to that.” He spoke quietly.
“Well, the little I’ve seen is both similar and different, but I haven’t left Dirustandi for official business before. Or at least, nothing like this, not so far away.”
He smiled. “I’ve never left Earth, so your experience far exceeds mine.”
In silence, they finished eating as they discussed what they’d found.
* * * *
Pacing behind the Turana was painful, given his current physical condition, Marcus thought sourly. Watching her hips sway beneath the many layers of her voluminous skirts really didn’t help.
She’s a trained warrior. See her that way.
He sighed and turned his gaze back to the crowd that had gathered to see her.
She slowly made her way to the door of the television studio, a sea of bodies held behind a thin plastic line.<
br />
He’d warned his team that this was the perfect place for an attack, but he didn’t necessarily expect anything to happen; there were too many humans who could be injured and they weren’t the target of the Incubi.
At the door Dria turned and raised a hand. A smile on her face, her eyes shining as she gave them one final wave. The crowd erupted in a thunder of applause and shouts.
Instinctively, he moved before her, sheltering her body with his own. Marcus tugged the door open and shoved her inside, his body plastered against hers, almost skin-to-skin.
“What are you doing, Vane?” Her husky voice flowed over him like silken caramel, and his erection tightened like a vise in his groin.
“Saving you. What the fuck were you thinking? That last little action whipped them into a frenzy.”
“My mother instructed me that people like that kind of thing. In fact—”
He cut off her answer. “That’s just bloody stupid, and all you did was make yourself an even bigger target.” He sounded petulant, but the urge to protect her had suddenly descended with a burning anger. “Don’t do it again.”
She laughed, and it wasn’t pleasant, as if she too were struggling with their close confines. The program for the day had taken them to photo shoots, kindergartens, and schools. Watching her ‘press the flesh’ as she termed it had tested his limits. Being so close, watching her... He growled deep in his throat.
“Oh dear. I didn’t mean to upset you, Commander Vane. Next time I’ll check before I so much as sneeze.” She marched forward, and the director of Now in News moved in her direction, a sleazy smile on his lips.
“Turana, it’s such a pleasure that you could find time to see us. Come this way, and I’ll take you directly to makeup.”
“Of course. Anything to further Ba’Tuan and Earth relations.” She smiled coquettishly as he patted her arm.
A bolt of jealousy shot down Vane’s spine.
“Up close, you are so much taller and...beautiful!”
For the first time, he wished that the language of Earth wasn’t one standard variation of English, because the words sounded damned stupid to his mind. Listening to the man in his fifth decade gush over her wasn’t helping his temper.
