by Mina Carter
He let the silence stretch out. Next to the captain, Hawkins was going redder and redder.
Wonder if his head will actually explode? Archon mused over the commlink. Can I shoot him?
Lyon almost squawked, but managed to hold it in. They were both trying to drive him nuts. No, you cannot shoot him. We’re in a corridor with eight heavily armed marines, and one rifle between us.
“For a Fleetie, you’re very well informed, Captain.”
Despite his dislike of most humans, he had to give credit where credit was due. Besides, there was something about the man. He had a no-bullshit, cut-right-to-the-chase attitude that appealed to Lyon. Had circumstances been different, he was the sort of guy Lyon would have tried to build a friendship with.
I’ve got a rubber band and a paperclip in my pocket, if that helps?
Archon?
Yeah?
Shut up.
The human smiled. “Thank you. However, you haven’t answered my question. I do apologize for pushing you…but time’s a-ticking.”
Lyon opened his mouth. The usual demands for weapons and supplies hovered on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t ask for any of them, even though Redemption Bay was like a black hole for such supplies. Instead the words that came out his mouth surprised him as much as it did everyone else.
“Her,” he said, pulling Samara around into view. “I want her.”
Lyon ignored her outraged gasp, his attention on the captain.
“Two minutes, thirty-five seconds to self-destruct,” the computer reminded them.
Marisol–Lees’ dark-eyed gaze flicked from him to the petite woman next to him and back again. Cold calculation showed in his eyes.
“Just her? Nothing else? You’ll relinquish control of the ship. No…hidden surprises?”
Lyon shook his head. “Nothing. We’ll leave you in peace.”
“Done. Hawkins, stand down. Let these people leave.”
“Excellent, pleasure doing business with you, Captain. Have a nice day,” he added, starting to walk toward the hatch as the marines backed up.
“You can’t do this!” Samara blurted out, seeming to regain her voice as he tugged her toward the boarding access and, beyond it, his ship.
He couldn’t wait to get her aboard. The first thing he planned to do was hole up in his quarters for…oh, a month? Yeah, a month should be long enough. Maybe.
He stopped so suddenly she ran straight into his back. Looking over his shoulder, he ignored the quick smirk that ghosted over Marisol–Lees’ face.
“Okay, what’s the problem?”
“This is kidnapping!”
His eyebrow lifted slightly. “Your point?”
Hawkins chose that moment to pipe up. “With all due respect, Sir. Are you just going to let these filthy creatures take her? She’s human, for crying out loud, she doesn’t deserve this.”
Can I shoot him now? Archon begged. Plllllllease?!
Before the captain could say anything Samara rounded on the corporal. “Filthy creatures? How dare you? At least they don’t sleep around…yeah, I know all about you and Jessica. And Annette…or was Amanda before Annette?” She smiled sweetly. “Just tell the girls you sleep with you’ve got an STD, would you, sweetheart? Makes it so much easier to treat.”
Oh. Crash and burn, baby. She’s good. Can we keep her?
Hawkins went red and started to make a strange spluttering sound as the captain choked. Lyon didn’t know whether it was a sound of outrage or suppressed amusement, but he didn’t hang around to find out. In one swift move, he leaned down and threw her over his shoulder.
Ignoring her shriek of outrage, he headed for the boarding hatch before either she or Archon could say anything else and screw the situation up any more than it was already.
“Cael, get us ready to move and cancel the self-destruct.” He clambered through the boarding tube with an ease that belied the fact he was carrying a wriggling, shrieking wildcat.
“Archon!” he bellowed, suddenly becoming aware that the Gemini hadn’t followed him. “Stop antagonizing the humans and get your butt in here!”
Aye, Colonel, just…dealing with something. Be there in a moment. Archon’s voice was full of the sort of amusement that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Usually that meant Archon was up to no good. A fact that was borne out as he dropped into the main section of the shuttle to find both Cael and Eoin suddenly very busy and avoiding his gaze.
Dumping Samara into one of the passenger seats, he fixed her with a steely look. “Stay, or I’ll cuff you to it.”
He straightened and looked at the other two cyborgs. The sound of the human ship’s internal defenses firing echoed through the boarding tube at the same moment Archon dropped through it, a smirk on his face.
“Right. Out with it,” he demanded over the sound of the boarding mechanism closing up and retracting. Within a heartbeat, the small shuttle lurched as Cael gunned the engines. With the Valkyrie back under her crew’s control, they needed to be gone. Fast.
“What? I didn’t do a thing. Honest.”
Archon tried an innocent look, which didn’t wash with Lyon. He’d known the Gemini virtually since he’d been pulled from his tank. There wasn’t an innocent bone in his body.
He sighed. He’d heard the ship’s internal defenses. Defenses Archon had no control over. That was Archon through and through. Why do something yourself when you could get someone else to do the dirty work?
“Cael? What did this POS promise you?”
“A box of Helarian chocolates and a foot massage,” she replied promptly.
“And what did you do?”
“Shot that corporal in the ass.”
Chapter Five
Samara couldn’t help herself. She giggled. Although, to be fair, it was more of a snort than a giggle. Her mother always said she sounded like a cross between a horse and a donkey when she laughed.
She couldn’t help it though. Despite the fact that, for all intents and purposes, she’d just been kidnapped by a group of cyborgs, hearing that that Corporal Hawkins had been shot in the ass just did it for her.
The giggle looped and became unstoppable. Hilarity filled her until tears streamed down her cheeks and she was holding her sides to stop them from aching.
Two sets of eyes—one green and one brown—looked at her in concern. Samara couldn’t do anything but laugh back at them, amused afresh that they were so concerned about her after they’d kidnapped her.
“Is she all right?” Archon frowned, the big man looking to his bigger commander in concern. “Won’t she bust a blood vessel or something like that?”
Lyon shrugged, a look of bewilderment on his face she found intensely amusing. “How the hell should I know? I’m not an expert on human physiology.”
“She shouldn’t be that shade of red, surely?”
Samara flopped sideways onto the seat next to her, until she was lying on her side, and howled. She’d never found anything so hilarious in her life. In the back of her mind she knew it was a stress reaction. She’d been kidnapped and rather than freak out, her twisted mind had decided to find it funny instead.
“She’s hysterical. We should slap her out of it,” Archon announced. “Should I slap her?”
“No!” Samara and Lyon announced at the same time, the latter with a glare that would have frozen the blood in the smaller cyborg’s veins. Had he actually been looking, that was. Instead he pouted and flounced off to the other side of the cabin to fling himself onto the opposite row of bench seats like a sulky teenager.
“I never get any fun!”
“Oh, how old are you? Bloody grow up.”
She shook her head and sat up, straightening her clothes and rubbing at her aching cheeks. She hadn’t laughed like that for years. But then, she hadn’t been kidnapped or encountered a more stressful situation than running out of pre-packed dressings in the five years she’d been in the service.
Lyon huffed and nodded. “Yeah, what sh
e said.”
She rounded on him next, her freaking-out-fueled amusement replaced by fury. The look in her eyes hard, she swooped in like a Valkyrie of legend to stab a finger into the center of his broad chest.
“And you can be quiet, Mr. I kidnap people without so much as a by-your-leave. How dare you just yank me off my ship without even asking?”
“Hmmm. I did ask.”
“Not. Me!”
He lifted an eyebrow, which only increased Samara’s ire. Did he only have like…three facial expressions or something?
“Yeah, boss. You need to brush up on your seduction technique. The ladies do like to be asked…” Archon, busy studying under his fingernails, drawled.
“Yeah. Exactly.” She nodded vehemently, trying to get through to the knuckleheaded cute-as-hell cyborg in front of her.
“Even if they don’t have a choice.”
“Wait. What? No! Not no choice. There should always be a choice!” She drew in a strangled breath, fighting her anger and marshaling her vocal cords and lungs for another volley.
Lyon shot Archon a look and shoved his hand over her mouth to stem the tirade that was coming. “Archon! Really not helping here.”
She’d never really understood the term “her vision went red” when people spoke about anger. She’d always thought it was one of those sayings people used to explain something that didn’t have a direct description. Until the moment Lyon silenced her in such an arrogant, overbearing manner and red did indeed filter down from the top of her eyes to the bottom, painting everything in shades of scarlet.
A snarl in the back of her throat, she opened her mouth against his palm and bit down. Hard.
Lyon snatched his hand back, forced into a half-second fight with her teeth for possession of the fleshy bit near his thumb, and looked at her in disbelief.
“How dare you?” she demanded, not caring now that he could bend her in half and break her like a twig if he wanted to. She didn’t care she was stuck on his ship, with four beings who had more than enough reason to hate her species. Anger ran through her veins, embedded so deeply that she shook with the force of it.
“Uh-oh. Lover’s tiff. Little woman doesn’t look too happy, boss.”
Eyes locked on hers, Lyon flicked Archon an offensive gesture and moved forward, backing her up against the side of the cabin. Her fury shifted, turning into something equally as hot at the dark, dangerous look in his eyes.
Unwilling to back down, she met him look for look. She knew that if she showed fear now, then he’d walk all over her. He’d kidnapped her, yes. But he’d asked for her, named her as his price for leaving the Valkyrie in one piece. Which meant she had value to him, surely? That she wasn’t some passing fancy to be used and tossed aside. She had to hope so or this whole situation became something far darker and more frightening. Became a situation she really didn’t want to think about.
Her back bumped against the cold metal of the cabin wall, but still he kept coming. Kept coming until she could feel the heat of his skin beating against hers, even through their clothing. His face was hard as he looked down into hers. His breath whispered over her skin, stirring the strands of hair that lay against her neck.
“I am in charge here, Ms. Williams. Do not forget that. Or make the mistake of challenging my authority. You won’t like how that ends.”
* * * * *
They were a family. For the next few hours as the combat shuttle left the system, taking her farther away from the Valkyrie, Samara watched the four cyborgs as they interacted with each other. Comfortably curled up in the seats at the back of the cabin, she listened as Archon and the female cyborg, Cael, teased each other good-naturedly. Each comment sparked another and another as they tried to best each other in what she could see was an affectionate game of wits. One she had no doubt had started years ago and would continue for years to come.
Lyon sat in the copilot’s chair, but rather than the usual navigation systems, the console was filled with strange code and other symbols she didn’t recognize. Whatever it was though, the heavily built man seemed engrossed in it, only looking up to fire back a comment when his name was dropped in the argument between Archon and Cael.
The other guy—Eoin, she’d figured from the conversation—had grunted and disappeared out the back door of the cabin without so much as a word. Samara had tried not to stare as he passed. A carbon copy of Archon, he had the same muscled build, coloring and face. But a scowl and scars twisted his features rather than a smile and a heavy medical brace encased one of his lower legs.
She turned back to the others. Cael was beautiful. Envy filled her as she studied the cyborg woman. Tall with dark hair plaited close to her scalp, she had the sort of elegant, slender figure Samara could only dream of. Even the alphanumeric tattoo on her cheek and the metal encasing her left hand couldn’t detract from her looks.
She’d relinquished the pilot’s seat to Archon, but perched on the edge of the row of seats opposite Samara to continue the round of bickering they’d started ten minutes ago after both had rounded on Lyon for trying to interrupt.
Thoughts of the tall, handsome cyborg leader chased each other like eager puppies around her head. Why had he kidnapped her? Heat flushed her cheeks as he looked over his shoulder and directly at her. It was like he could pluck the thoughts right out of her head. They weren’t telepathic, were they? Panic hit her anew, but then she calmed herself. She couldn’t remember anyone mentioning telepathy as a cyborg ability.
She’d bitten him. She still couldn’t believe she’d done that.
Deliberately she shifted the focus of her thoughts. Were all cyborg women like Cael? Were they all that skinny and tall? If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn the woman was a supermodel or something, more used to the glitz and glamour of the intergalactic catwalks than brutal and bloody warfare.
She bit her lip and listened as her self-confidence tumbled down around her ears. If they were all like Cael, then what chance did she have with Lyon? Why had he even bothered to give her a passing glance, never mind seduce her in his cell…?
Her heart stuttered, then stalled in her chest. The ship had been abuzz when they’d rendezvoused to pick him up, but no one had said how long the Fleet had held him prisoner. Perhaps he’d just been away from his people too long and he’d just needed a woman, any woman.
Biting back tears at the thought, she rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. Tiredness swept up in a tidal wave and crashed over her, sapping what energy she’d had left. Within seconds, she was asleep.
“She’s very pretty.”
Cael was the first to look over her shoulder when Samara fell asleep. All with razor-sharp hearing and the ability to monitor heart rate and respiration even at distance, they’d easily been able to tell when she was watching them and when she’d finally given in and gone to sleep.
“She is,” Lyon agreed, finally giving in to temptation and looking over at his little prize himself. She was curled into an uncomfortable-looking little ball in one of the passenger seats. They were designed for hulking brutes of marines, so she looked like a child cuddled up for an impromptu nap. Well, she would if it wasn’t for the curves that filled the ship-suit out in a very un-childlike way.
Cael sighed. “I’d die for a figure like that. You see the bust on her?”
“Oh yeah…” Archon muttered, a comment which was quickly followed by two slaps to the back of his head; one from Cael and one from Lyon.
“You keep your eyes to yourself,” Lyon growled and looked at Cael curiously.
She shrugged. “I felt left out. Do I need a reason?”
“With him, no.”
“She’ll get uncomfortable like that.” Lyon pushed away from the console and stood. A couple of strides took him across the cabin until he was stood over her. She was sound asleep, dark eyelashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. Peaceful, like an angel at rest.
Careful not to disturb her, he gathered her into h
is arms as though she weighed nothing. To him, she didn’t. Mumbling something unintelligible, she nestled against him, her face in the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Her lips brushed gently against the skin there, the softest of touches, but one that speared right through his body to his cock.
He closed his eyes for a second to control his bodily reactions. He’d never had such strong reactions to any woman before. Ever. So why this one? He entertained the thought that she was some kind of human witch, designed to drive cyborg men mad, then shook his head, amused at his own ridiculousness.
He tightened his arms around her and rested his lips and nose against the top of her head. She’d used some kind of floral shampoo. Probably last night. He savored the fresh smell and the feeling of her in his arms. A rush of protectiveness surged through him. He’d take her through to his cabin. The bed was small but she would be comfortable there and wouldn’t wake up with the kinks in her back and neck that she’d get sleeping in the chair.
“Lyon?” Cael’s voice stopped him as he turned to head out of the main cabin. He looked over his shoulder. Her face was curious, her head tilted to one side. “You could have asked for anything on that ship. Why her?”
He didn’t need to think about the answer.
“She makes me feel human.”
She was comfortable and safe. Murmuring contentment in the back of her throat, Samara snuggled closer into the warmth that surrounded her. Warmth that finally resolved itself in her sleepy brain as a hard male body in the bed with her.
She shifted, her hand wandering over her pillow to test the solid muscle there. Yes, she thought so. It was definitely a male chest. A hard male chest covered in satiny skin—her fingers paused on a ridge to explore its length—and one covered in scars that told of a life of violence.
Lyon.
She kept her eyes closed and floated in that delicious state between asleep and awake. If she stayed here, she didn’t have to think about yesterday or deal with it. She could just lie here and enjoy the novelty of waking up in someone’s arms and feeling cherished.
