His Fire Maiden

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Dev’s brow lifted. She couldn’t tell if he was insulted or amused.

  “Of course, you know what it is,” she said under her breath. “I have no intention of turning you over as a space pirate. However, if you feel it is too much of a risk to—”

  “Who said I was a pirate?” He took a step toward her. The small space felt nearly claustrophobic with him so near. It required sheer will to stand her ground against his menacing figure.

  “Your docking reports gave it away.” She wished her voice sounded stronger.

  “Perhaps we just like our privacy. Perhaps we were worried that someone in a yellow ship would come looking for one of our crewmen. Perhaps this is all an elaborate game set up by you and your crew to either lull me or scare me into some kind of confession. I wouldn’t tell you how to find my ship if I even knew where it was. I won’t help you find your sister. If Josselyn wishes to seek you out that is her business.”

  Her eyes inadvertently went to his mouth. She liked the way his lips moved. They were firm, the texture of them begging to be touched. “That is not what I was doing.”

  “Then perhaps your agenda is political, or religious, or mercenary? You seek to gain my compliance by speaking to me in your soft, feminine way, batting your bewitching eyes and smiling your little seductive smiles. You saw what I was when we landed at Rifflen, and you think to sell me to the highest bidder. You would not be the first to try.”

  “I do not traffic in…” Her words trailed off. Did he call her bewitching and seductive? “You think I look feminine?”

  At that, his guard slipped. Black eyes traveled down her body and back up again. The dark gaze lingered on her hips and breasts a little too long. She felt the tingling warmth of desire erupt between her thighs. The sensation curled around her, flooding her body with the kind of desperate hormonal reaction that would be hard to fight.

  “You know the effect you have on men,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.

  “Are you saying I have an effect on you?” She swayed toward him. Her legs shook. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

  “Are you trying to get me to confess attraction?” he countered.

  Was she? Violette didn’t know how to answer that. Well, if she were honest with herself, the truth was she didn’t want to think about the answer. “Are you confessing attraction?”

  “Are you inviting attraction?”

  “Perhaps I should…” Violette glanced at the door. She had to get control of her emotions. “This is my room. If you like, you can stay in here—”

  A low growl sounded as he shot forward. Before she could even end her sentence, she was pressed back against the hard metal of her wall by a solid block of pure, hot, male muscle. She moaned. She’d been about to offer the room as his temporary quarters while she bunked elsewhere, but Dev took it more as an invitation to her person. How could she blame him? She had been flirting.

  Flirting? Space captains didn’t flirt. That couldn’t have been what she was doing.

  Oh, but then why was she kissing him back? Sliding her tongue into his hot, wet mouth, she let him suck it between his teeth. Sacre, but it felt nice the way he flicked his tongue against hers. Heat radiated from his body, warmer than other humanoids. His body hovered close to her, not touching save for their lips. His hands pressed against the metal wall, trapping her before him. There seemed a great fire burning beneath his surface.

  Her fingers lifted to his forearms. The fine red lines that decorated his flesh appeared to darken as his kiss deepened. She kept her eyes open, even as they wanted to drift closed. He was staring at her, probing her with his piercing gaze.

  She’d wanted him since first seeing him standing on the docking plank to his ship. All the emotions she worked so hard to suppress surged forth—grief, anger, passion, need, they all poured over into him. Their touch became a losing battle for control.

  The muscles beneath her fingers flexed as he pulled his mouth from hers. She gripped his arms, not wanting him to stop. Violette opened her mouth to speak, but only a loud gasp escaped her as she drew in a long breath. One of his hands lifted to the front of her tight black shirt. With a jerk, he pulled the neckline and tore the material from her breasts. Her breathing became raspy and her head light.

  Heat enveloped her. Violette pressed into the wall. Dev’s mouth found her neck as his hand found an aching breast. Her nipple practically exploded against this palm when he touched her. How long had it been since she’d felt the intimacy of a man’s flesh? At the moment, she couldn’t remember.

  There was something to his stoic nature that called to her, a sadness buried deep inside of him, but also a repressed passion that smoldered beneath the surface. If his body heat were any indication, it would do more than simmer once unleashed. She wanted to feed into that passion until his blood boiled like hers. None of this made sense, and yet, here she was, kissing Dev and forgetting about everything rational in her life.

  Oh, to feel something beyond sadness and duty. To not have to think.

  Her hands moved to his clothing, intent on undressing him. She could feel he was shaped like most humanoid males, yet she wanted to explore the look of him. Bevlons were a rare breed, and this was the first she’d come across in all her travels. She had heard plenty from Gil’s incredibly biased accounts, enough so that she’d been curious to read up on her own. She knew his kind kept to themselves, typically residing on some hot frying pan of a planet.

  His body seemed cut from a pliable metal. Solid muscles attested to a life spent in exercise. It was evident by the way he fought Gil that he was trained in combat. There had been a fearlessness in him that captivated her and a borderline recklessness that stirred her curiosity.

  Material peeled from flesh until nothing separated them. He didn’t speak, so neither did she. Violette worried that the spell between them might break should they utter a word. Something inside her shook free, like a laser missile bursting out of its shell toward another starship, making contact, exploding, destroying itself and its target in the same stellar process. It was hot and dangerous and in many ways stupid, but she couldn’t keep away from the flame of that gloriously bright moment. She locked her sights on him, fully aware that the decision she was making was a bad one that could destroy them both, if not physically at least metaphorically. Her crew would never forgive her, especially Gil. They would feel betrayed. They might not even respect her. This man was part of the ship that protected her sworn enemy, even if that enemy was her sister. Not to mention, she could dress up the facts all she liked, but he was technically a prisoner of her ship. Captain and prisoner. On opposites sides of her sworn sense of vengeance. Enemies by every logical rationing of the situation.

  But Violette couldn’t stop kissing him. He was heat and passion and insanity. He tasted like dark liquor, and his touch was just as intoxicating.

  Dev’s hands massaged her breasts. She moaned weakly at the sensations flooding her. Thumbs tweaked her nipples into tight buds. Tiny shockwaves found their way down to her pussy. He moaned in the back of his throat. Lips slid from hers as he worked his way over her jaw to her earlobe. He nipped at her ear. Her hands ran through his dark hair, pulling him closer. She angled her throat in offering. He took the invitation, sliding his mouth down her neck. Teeth skimmed her flesh. She tensed, thinking he might bite her. Instead, he drew his tongue in a delicately teasing trail to her shoulder.

  Dev’s fiery skin and fierce demeanor belied his gentle touch. She wouldn’t have guessed he’d be such a tender yet forceful lover. His hands seemed to be all over her body, moving and gliding, caressing and touching every inch of her flesh. He brought his kiss lower, along her collarbone to the valley between her breasts.

  Violette stroked his arms and shoulders. Her fingers found hold in his thick hair. Ah, sacre, but his kisses felt wonderful.

  She rocked her hips toward him as he moved lower. The hard metal at her back gave her leverage as she pushed her hips forward and spread her legs. H
e licked her navel before dipping his head between her thighs. Violette gasped. His hot tongue probed the softness of her sex, parting the lips to find the sensitive bud of her clit buried between them.

  Violette cried out, unable to hold back. His kissed deepened at her response. He tested her reactions, quickly adapting the movements of his mouth to give her ultimate gratification. Her skin was flushed and her breathing became hard. She slammed her fist against the wall as the pleasure built. A loud, satisfying bang resounded over them so she did it again.

  Dev jerked his head back, looking up at her. Those dark eyes seemed filled with the promise of sin, though perhaps it was only her imagination, or the look of his red skin, the stark depths of his eyes.

  Violette grabbed a fistful of his thick hair and roughly pulled him to standing. His hands hit on either side of her body to trap her. He breathed hard, each harsh sound puncturing the silence. She still held his locks, pulling at the roots. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat. Her lips parted, and he licked between them, flicking his tongue to dance teasingly along the edges. His hand slid into her hair as he used the locks to jerk her away from the wall. She instantly let go of his hair as he walked her backward to her bed.

  Her legs hit the low mattress. Thinking he’d let go, she swept her leg into his in a maneuver to get him on his back. He didn’t release her hair, and she ended up falling on top of him. The loud smack of their flesh slapping together sent a tingle over her body. She had never felt so alive in her life. His heat, his taste, his smell, all her senses were overwhelmed.

  She began to move over him, straddling his waist. The firm press of his cock slid against her ass. She hadn’t looked as they stripped from their clothing. The length of it didn’t surprise her. He was such a large man. It made sense that all of him would be in proportion to that fact.

  Tiny dark red lines ran haphazard patterns over his entire length, like a tattoo inked in blood. The design was natural, beautiful, mesmerizing. She traced her fingers along the lines. Her actions caused him to tense. He looked down at her hands.

  Violette could see the threat of the rational dawning in his eyes. She covered his mouth with her hand before he could speak and quickly maneuvered her body over his. The first intimate contact of his shaft probing into her depths caused her to gasp. She trembled as she forced herself lower. He didn’t move, didn’t stop her. She lifted and then slowly sat back down. It didn’t take long before a natural rhythm struck up between them.

  Dev began to thrust his hips, pressing up as she came down. Their actions became almost angry, like a fight both of them could win. His hands slid onto her hips, guiding her over him. She loved the mindlessness of the moment. Pleasure didn’t have to make sense, it just was. Before long the tremors of climax were washing over her. She dug her fingernails into his chest. Heat exploded inside her as he came. The eruption was everything she expected it might be—mindless bliss with an aftermath of consequences.

  As she pulled off of him, she shivered at the sudden rush of cold air that hit her body. He’d been so warm, and the room’s temperature seemed to drop without his touch. She backed away from him. Violette was too practical to ponder senseless things like “What have I done?” and “What was I thinking?”. She’d known exactly what she was doing. And now, she was going to have to figure out the best way to minimize the ramifications.

  “This never happened,” she stated in her most imposing tone. It wasn’t the most well done statement, but it was the only one she had.

  When in doubt, give an order. Always act as if you know something the others don’t. Crewmen won’t question the boss.

  The advice had come from her father. For a moment, with Dev, she hadn’t thought about any of her responsibilities. Now they came rushing back to weigh heavier on her mind than before.

  Violette went to the clothing drawer built into the wall and ran her finger over the scanner. It opened, and she quickly dressed in a tight black shirt and even tighter red pants. The waistband had two narrow strips of material that looped around her waist and over her shoulders to create a decorative pattern on her shirt. When she turned, Dev stood, fully clothed. She hadn’t even heard him move from the bed. Searching his blank expression, she could detect nothing in him that would hint at the passion erupting within the room moments before.

  “This will be your quarters while you are a guest on my ship. I will make alternate arrangements.” Violette moved for the door a little too fast. And, as the metal entryway slid shut behind her, she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that he hadn’t tried to stop her. Then again, what did she expect? The man her crew kidnapped to fall suddenly for the revenge-seeking captain? Theirs really wasn’t a fairytale romance in the making.

  Chapter 11

  Standing emotionless should have been second nature to Dev, but as he watched Violette dress and dismiss him like some paid sex droid he couldn’t help but struggle to keep his composure. Everything in him wanted to explode in anger, and the anger was only to cover the hurt. He held back, swallowing the emotions until it choked his throat and tightened his stomach.

  What did he expect? Cuddling? Soft words? A smile?

  He should be grateful she touched a demon like him at all.

  Then again, he’d seen her crew. Perhaps she had some kind of strange fetish. Being a novelty was almost worse than being feared.

  Frustration could not erase the feel of her delicate hands from his mind. She’d been forceful and fearless in her passion. He wanted to touch her again, to explore the full length of her body. He needed to hold her, to feel a heart beating against him, steady and without trepidation.

  Perhaps that was the cruelest of jokes. He had the Bevlon’s body with the human need to be loved. The traits did not belong in the same man.

  When he was alone, his hands balled into fists. But, instead of striking out, he kept his muscles tight. Captured, pleasured, dismissed. There was only one thing he knew to do about the undercurrent of frustration flowing beneath his surface. Falling forward onto the floor, he caught his weight and began pressing up furiously in exercise. He’d go until he couldn’t lift his body. It was no simulated battle in the VR, but it would have to do.

  Dev pushed his overtired muscles until they began to shake with fatigue and then kept going. Only when he collapsed on the floor, breathing hard and completely spent, was he forced to stop. He enjoyed the numbness that came at such a moment, not only in his body but also in his mind. Unfortunately, the feeling didn’t last long.

  He couldn’t help but wonder about his friends. Violette’s crew had no reason to hurt a baby so Parker should be safe. Jackson would demand they implement a rescue plan. Jarek would ensure they were smart about it. Rick would make a crude joke to show he cared.

  Dev didn’t want his friends flying into harm to save him. He didn’t wish to risk them to save himself. He would find his own escape before that happened. In a way, the quiet tin can of a room was comforting and familiar. The isolation reminded him to be self-reliant.

  He lay on the metal floor, limbs stretched out, cheek pressed to the ridged surface. It was uncomfortable and chilled, and he refused to find anything better. At least now he was no longer squished into a crate. He closed his eyes and evened his breathing. Vibrations along the floor would wake him up if anyone came close to the door.

  When he opened his eyes, it was to see legs in tight red pants. Well, more correctly, it was to see in-between legs in tight red pants. He started to smile before he caught himself. Not such a bad view.

  Violette sat on the floor. Her back pressed against the door, and her hands draped over her knees as she watched him. Was this an invitation?

  “What have you decided?” she asked.

  Dev pushed up from the floor. Blast it. Not an invitation. “What makes you think I’ve decided anything?”

  “You’re sleeping. You don’t strike me as the type to sleep if there is work to be done.”

  Whatever drugs Gil ha
d managed to get into his system while he was trapped like cargo must have dulled his senses. “And you don’t strike me as the type to watch a man sleep. Or are you that starved for entertainment?” He pretended to be unconcerned as he stretched his arms. His muscles were tight and achy.

  She motioned to her cheek and then pointed at his face. “You have floor marks on your cheek.”

  Dev touched his skin, feeling the imprinted texture of his hard bed on his flesh. It would go away. “You have green marks around your waist.”

  She laughed at the observation. “A teenage indiscretion, an old style tattoo artist, and a stolen bottle of whiskey.”

  Dev gestured at the darker line on his arm. “Born that way.”

  She nodded behind him. “You can use the bed.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “So can you.”

  “Quick escape.” She pointed her thumb behind her to the door. Though, she hardly looked concerned and there was nothing quick about her position. She’d have to stand to reach the door scanner, and the room was small. He could snap her neck before she even thought of leaving. Of course, he wouldn’t.

  “This is not who we are.” She slowly stood, keeping an eye on him as she tried to act unconcerned.

  Dev arched a brow. He mimicked her previous position, resting his arms on his knees as he sat on the floor and leaned against the frame of the bed. “You’re not trying to convert me to some strange calling, are you? Which one is it? We’re all pawns to the gods? Do we belong to the space overlords?”

  “You’re surly when you wake up.”

  He tried smiling at her. It was a weak effort, but it did cause her to relax her posture. Damn the woman was stunning. He wished she’d smile. Hell, as long as he was wishing for stuff, he wished she’d take off her clothes and let him do naughty things to her again.

  “Besides, Salebinaben Johobik en Dehauberkelsain en Thoraxian en Yyrtolzx Devekin, everyone knows the space overlords are in a battle with the almighty whiteholes. It is our duty to join the fight.” Her tone was wry, and it took a moment for him to realize she was teasing him.