Escape Velocity (Off-World Series, Book 7): Sexy Science-Fiction Romance Novel

by Rebecca York

  Max blinked. That was the best time for a surprise raid. Gatroux must be a better tactician than they had imagined.

  “Rafe and I will want our weapons,” he said.

  “Some of my men will go to the ship with you.”

  Max nodded, then turned to Amber. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

  “No,” Gatroux said. “You will not see her until the time of the raid.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Amber had been counting on spending the remaining time before the assault with Max, in a private hut where they could make love. Now she gave the head man a confused look. “I should be with Max.”

  “No. You will be with the women.”

  Her mouth had gone dry, but she managed to ask, “Why?”

  “To make sure everything goes as planned,” the chief said, his voice edged with iron.

  Because you don’t trust us, she silently translated, knowing there was no point in arguing.

  He pointed toward where Camille was waiting at the edge of the council area. “Go with her. We will call for you when we are ready for you.”

  Her gaze swung from the woman to Max.

  “It will be okay,” he said in a low voice, and she wondered if she believed it. She had wanted to feel safe in his arms for a few hours longer. That option had been yanked away.

  On wooden legs, she walked toward the head man’s wife.

  “We will take care of you,” Camille said.

  She bobbed her head, knowing she must comply with the rules of this strange tribe if she wanted their help in freeing herself from slavery.

  Camille led Amber through a group of huts to one that stood apart from the others.

  “Climb up,” the head woman said.

  Amber climbed the ladder and then through the door. Inside, she found herself in a room like the one where she and Max had retired the night before. But this chamber was more opulent. There was a fur rug on the floor, the bedcovering was silky and decorated with intricate embroidery, and the windows were screened with draperies that filtered out much of the light. To compensate, a small lamp burned on a stand in the corner, sending a spicy fragrance into the air.

  “What room is this?” she asked.

  “It’s a room the newly married can use for their wedding night.”

  “Too bad you’re wasting it on just one occupant.”

  Camille smiled. “It won’t be wasted. It’s a good place for you to retire where you won’t be disturbed. Turn around and let me undo your hair.”

  Amber turned and felt Camille remove the hair ornament she’d given her earlier. After the woman had set the sheathed knife on the table beside the bed, she said, “You must sleep now. And when the men are ready to leave, you will wish them the blessings of the gods on their mission.”

  Amber looked from Camille to the bed and back again. “I don’t think I can even relax. I feel like one of those child’s toys where you wind up a spring, then watch it turn in circles on the floor.”

  “I knew you would say something like that.” She picked up a flask from the table. “This drink will relax you and clear your mind.”

  Amber eyed the small bottle. “What is it?”

  “I suppose you could call it a sleeping potion. It won’t harm you, and it will help you slumber.”

  She might have refused, but she knew Camille was right. She would be better off not lying in the bed and worrying about Max and Rafe going off with the raiding party.

  “All right,” she agreed, taking a cautious sip from the narrow opening at the top of the flask. The liquid inside tasted a little sweet and a little sharp.

  While she finished the draft, Camille turned back the bedcovers.

  “Lie down now.”

  Amber was already feeling a little light-headed as she swayed on unsteady legs.

  Camille guided her to the bed, and she plopped down heavily.

  When she was horizontal, the other woman pulled up the covers.

  “No one will disturb you. I’ll be back to wake you when it’s time to get ready.”

  “Yes,” Amber murmured, feeling the room start to spin around her.

  She closed her eyes and flattened her hands against the silky surface below her, trying to ground herself. She heard Camille leave and knew she was alone, yet it felt like people were crowding in around the bed.

  “My imagination,” she murmured. Or was she already asleep? Was this a dream or a nightmare? She thought she could sense Max nearby and behind him a malevolent figure that she knew must be Tudor. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but she felt he was staring at her, anticipating the moment when he got her under his control.

  She shuddered and once again vowed to die rather than let him kill her. But if the plan worked, she wouldn’t have to see him.

  Max stayed between her and the evil man, but there was a crowd behind him, and she realized with a shock of recognition that all the other people were women—women Max would have called beautiful. Were there ten? Twelve? She wasn’t sure because they kept moving, merging and blurring, but she knew they were the other slaves Tudor had brought to Danalon and killed for his own pleasure.

  All of them looked at her with pleading eyes—begging her to stop the slaughter.

  The knowledge that she had dared to defy this man awed her. Yet at the same time, she knew that it could all go wrong as quickly as Max had tossed the gems on the ground back on Naxion.

  She stirred in her sleep, hearing herself moan. Then a soothing voice drifted toward her.

  “Charobina.”

  If she could have sat up, she would have done it. But her body felt chained to the mattress. All she could do was turn her head as a figure emerged from the crowd.

  “Charobina,” the woman said again.

  That was the name she had back on Naxion, the name she had been unwilling to tell Max because it was a token of her slavery. At first, she thought it was Esme calling her.

  “Yes.”

  But the speaker wasn’t Esme; it was Devora, her mother, who had raised her until she had failed to make the change. A fogginess obscured her face so that Amber could not see the “beauty bumps” that covered her skin. Back on Naxion, Amber had thought that was a person’s normal appearance because she had known nothing else until she had been sent to the slave-training facility. Now that she had seen the kind of people who populated the rest of the planets, she felt revolted.

  She must have made a sound that gave away her feelings.

  “You find me ugly,” her mother said.

  “No.”

  “Do not lie to me.”

  She swallowed hard. “I am ashamed to feel that way about you. You were always good to me. And I knew how you feared for my future.”

  “Do not be ashamed. You have grown, and you have changed your thinking about what looks normal.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “Never be sorry. You have come far. I was so frightened for you when the slave masters came to the house in the night. They gave your father his final payment and took you away. Now I know how well you have done for yourself.”

  “And that may end very abruptly. And soon.”

  “Your champion will win out against the evil man who bought you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I sense it.”

  “But I’m not going with him,” she protested.

  “As you say.”

  The tone of her mother’s voice shook her. “I am afraid that something will go badly wrong,” she murmured.

  “Of course. Any sane person would be.”

  Amber laughed. “You were always so practical.”

  “I came to tell you I have faith in you. And I know you have found the perfect man.”

  She flushed. “I think so too. The part about Max. But I do not know if he will want to stay with me.”

  “I have faith in that, too.”

  “Are you here to give me faith?”

  “I wanted to see you one more time and tell
you that the gods bless your mission.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I feel it.”

  “I hope so.”

  “But now I will leave you with him who has joined you in this dangerous task.”

  As suddenly as Devora had come, she vanished, and Max was standing beside the bed. He lay down beside her, taking her in his arms.

  She was still dreaming. She understood that. But she rolled to her side and clung to him, taking comfort from his presence.

  “My plan was crazy from the start,” she whispered.

  “No. You’re a strong woman,” he answered as he stroked her back and shoulders.

  “Am I?”

  “Of course. You took your fate into your own hands.”

  She still didn’t know how that would come out. But she understood that what she had done was better than letting the slave masters on Naxion determine her fate.

  Max kept talking to her, settling her nerves. Then he, too, was gone, and she was lost to sleep.

  A voice woke her. “It’s time.”

  “Mother?”

  “No, it’s Camille. Did the potion bring your mother to you?”

  “Yes.” her eyes blinked open, and she stared at the tribe’s head woman.

  “Was it a good visit?”

  “Yes. It was a blessing.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She sat up and looked toward the window, aware that outside the hut was blackness, but inside warm candles flickered. In their light she saw there were three other women with Camille. Two were dark-haired and the third was blond. She had seen all of them the night before when she’d helped with the dinner preparations.

  “How do you feel?” Camille asked.

  She took a quick inventory of herself. “Much better,” she answered.

  “Good. You will show your strength to your husband—and that will spur him on to conquer the evil man. And when he comes back, you will be his reward.”

  Pushing herself up, she stared at the group. “Why are you here?”

  “To prepare you. Because you are the focus of this war. Your man risks his life for you.”

  The words made her throat constrict. She wanted to scream that it was all a mistake. Max should just take her to some corner of the worlds where she could hide out for the rest of her life.

  One of the young women reached out a hand and helped her stand. They led her to the side of the room, surrounding her as though they meant to hold her captive. In a way they did, not by physically restraining her, yet she felt as though she couldn’t move beyond their circle.

  One by one they gave their names. Paulette, Jacqueline, Maura.

  Paulette reached for the buttons at the front of Amber’s dress and slid them open. Jacqueline and Maura pulled the dress over her head, and she stood naked in the center of the group.

  She wanted to slide one arm across her breasts and drop the other hand to hide the triangle of hair at the juncture of her legs, but she kept her arms at her sides.

  Paulette picked up a jug and began to pour water over her body. It was warm and felt good against her skin. And it had a subtle scent that clung. Maura dipped a cloth in a bowl and gently washed her face.

  “Raise your arms,” Camille said.

  She did, and Jacqueline used foam and a device with a blade to scrape away the hair in her armpits. Paulette stooped down and did the same for her legs. When they were finished, they used more water to wash off the foam.

  Paulette dried her, then Maura brought over a little pot of red coloring.

  Amber made a small sound as the woman stroked a bit of it onto her nipples.

  “Why are you doing that?” she managed to ask.

  “Making them stand out.”

  Camille brought over a dress. It was flowing but short, reaching just to her knees. And when she looked down, she saw that the bodice was filmy so that it showed off her breasts and the reddened nipples. They added a short vest, covering her breasts so that only Max would see it later.

  Once she was clothed, they sat her down at a dressing table and began to work on her face. Max had done this several times, but his goal had always been to lessen her attractiveness.

  When Camille held up a mirror, she saw that her looks had been enhanced. Her eyes were accented by blue coloring below her brows and on her lids. Her skin was smooth and pale. Her lips were redder than her nipples, and her cheeks looked touched with a permanent blush.

  She stared at the woman who looked back at her, stunned by the effect.

  “Yes,” Camille murmured; you will take all men’s breath away. And your husband will be stronger because he knows what he would lose if he failed.”

  “He’s not my husband,” Amber blurted.

  “Ah . . . but he wants to be.”

  “He said it to protect me from your men.”

  “He might think that, but really he imagines himself as your life partner.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know men.”

  As she spoke, she dressed Amber’s hair again, drawing it up and holding it with the small sheathed knife and a few more pins, then pulled down a few tendrils over her ears.

  “Why do I need this?” she asked, touching the blade.

  “Because women cannot always depend on men.”

  The words made a wave of cold sweep over her. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “You have had visions tonight.”

  “Yes.”

  “So have I.”

  “What visions?”

  “I am not permitted to say. But Maxwell and his friend have made our men embrace a responsibility they have shirked for years.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “From time to time, when we are camped in this area, a young woman from our community goes missing, and we know Tudor is responsible—even if the men won’t go after him and demand to have her back.”

  Amber swallowed painfully. For the first time, she realized that this wasn’t just about her and the slaves from Naxion. This was just as personal for Camille and the other women in the camp.

  “We should go,” the older woman said. “We do not want to hold them up.”

  “Yes.”

  As soon as Amber stuck her head out the door of the special hut, she saw that the council clearing was marked by a few torches. As she approached, she could see dozens of men gathered around Max and Rafe. Most of them were the young swamp rats who had formed the hunting party the night before—including LaTour. He had done a lot of bold talking at the old house. Now, as she took in his expression, she saw an uncertain look in his eyes. Did he have more to prove than the other men? Or maybe he was a coward—afraid to risk his life when he wasn’t hunting down two unarmed men and a woman?

  But her attention switched abruptly away from him as she saw Max step forward. A look of wonder and a warmth came over his face and increased as she approached. “You look . . .” He struggled for a word and came up with “smashing.”

  It sounded weird, but she assumed it was a compliment.

  “So do you,” she answered. Of course, it was true any time she saw him, but now he was dressed for combat in dark clothing that accented his dark good looks.

  When he reached for her hand, she folded her fingers around his. “What have you been doing?” he asked.

  “The women wanted to do some kind of good luck ceremony with me.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ll tell you when you come back.”

  His jaw firmed. “Yes.”

  Gatroux walked up to them. “You should leave now while the night is the darkest.”

  Max’s grip tightened on Amber. “Be careful,” she murmured.

  “We will.”

  He was about to say more, when she heard a noise in the distance. At first, she thought it was a flock of birds flying toward them.

  She saw the men look uneasily at each other. Seconds later, the air above them seemed to stir and brilliant lights blazed on, tu
rning the clearing where the raiding party stood into a sea of blinding brightness.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The lights came from flying machines that zoomed into the damp and hovered above the clearing like giant birds of prey ready to strike. From the invading ships, Amber heard the hiss of weapons. Beamer blasts raked the area. Around them, men toppled to the ground or sank to their knees. She could hear them moaning in pain as blood oozed from huge beamer burns. The cries of the wounded made her gasp, but not as much as the silent men—the ones who lay still—absolutely still, their bodies limp and twisted. At the edges of the clearing women were screaming. One ran toward her man and was felled by an angry blast. The others shrank back lest they suffer the same fate.

  When some of the men tried to escape from the killing field, a harsh voice from above boomed out, “Don’t move, or you will all be killed.”

  Everyone froze.

  It was happening so fast that Amber had no time to process the disaster.

  Behind the lights, she could see two flying ships hovered over the crowd, sending bursts of fire around the edge of the clearing to make it clear that no one should cross that line. Another flyer landed, and four men wearing dark blue uniforms with a gold crest on the left side of their chest emerged.

  They marched toward where she, Max, and Rafe were standing.

  “You don’t have to sneak up on Commissioner Tudor’s compound,” one of them barked. “We are taking you there directly.”

  Amber watched in horror as the men in blue disarmed and searched Max and Rafe and led them toward the air car. One of the others grabbed Amber and brought her along.

  The remaining guards, walked backwards toward the ship, spraying the ground with beamer blasts as they went.

  In moments she, Max and Rafe were in the ship.

  One invader stopped before reaching the ship where the fugitives were being held. He whirled toward the swamp rats. “If you are stupid enough to follow us, more of you will get blasted. And we will come back to destroy this miserable settlement.”

  Turning, he climbed into the ship and signaled to the pilot. They lifted off and skimmed over the trees. All too soon, in the light from the moons, Amber saw a large white structure looming in the distance.