Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series)

by Catherine Spangler

  Even with her physical impediments, even after losing her parents, breaking down in space, getting caught up in a battle not hers to fight, she'd persevered. Even sustaining new injuries and then losing her only companion, she displayed amazing fortitude.

  No, never weak.

  "Put on the blanket," he said, turning away.

  Nessa remained silent while Chase helped her onto the exam table and sterilized the gouges left by Turi, then bandaged them. She shivered with cold, despite the thermal blanket, and he lowered a heatwave light over the table. Her shoulder had not been dislocated nor her arm broken; both were only bruised.

  His medical scanner picked up a virus, the same one present the first two times he'd checked her. He didn't recognize the viral structure, but thousands of viruses existed in the galaxy, the vast majority harmless. Probably a cold incubating—although it was going to be a nasty one, if the proliferation of the cells were any indication.

  He gave her a combination injection for shock, infection, and pain. The warmth and the medication drained away her tension and pain. She surrendered to exhaustion, falling asleep on the table.

  Chase left her there, placing more blankets over her. He sterilized her tunic, although it was badly torn and would have to be replaced at the first opportunity. He placed the tunic beside her, but folded the pack, slipped it into an airtight plastic bag, then put it in a cabinet. He'd sneezed repeatedly while he was treating Nessa because of that damn pack, and he'd been tempted to disintegrate it. But he decided that might upset her further. If she asked for it, he'd return it to her.

  After he cleaned the cut over his eye and tended his shoulder wound, he returned to his cabin. He shed and disposed his ruined flightsuit and took a long shower. Then he collapsed on his bunk and slept, awaking several hours later.

  He went to check on Nessa and found her leaving the lab, dressed in her tunic. "Hello," he said.

  She looked at him, her eyes huge orbs of distress in her small face. Her color had improved somewhat, but dark hollows lurked beneath her eyes. She started past.

  He blocked the path. "How are you feeling?"

  "Better. Thank you for taking care of my shoulder."

  Chase steered her toward the galley. "It was the least I could do. Thank you for saving my life."

  Nessa tugged against his grip. "I'd like to go to my cabin now."

  "A stop in the galley first. You need some nourishment. Then you can go to your cabin and rest."

  She remained withdrawn and distant as she drank the simple broth he prepared. Neither of them spoke until she rose from the table. He rose with her. "Let me take you to your cabin."

  She offered no argument and he opened her panel, stepping in behind her. At the sight of the empty plexishield case, her body went rigid. Her hands clenched by her side, she trembled visibly. Chase cursed himself for not thinking to remove the case.

  "Here, let me get rid of this." He moved around and grabbed the case.

  "No…wait." She stepped forward and lifted the lid. Reaching in, she picked up the half-eaten piece of bread. "He loved your bread," she whispered. "He'd never had fresh bread before."

  Chase set the case down and turned to her. "It's okay to cry, Nessa. Really. It's not a weakness."

  "I don't cry," she insisted. Her fingers stroked the bread. "I shouldn't have left him. What if he was still alive? What if he was frightened and needed me?"

  He touched her good shoulder. "He couldn't have survived the force of hitting that wall. He never knew what happened. He didn't suffer. We had to leave when we did."

  Nessa looked at him solemnly. "You had to try to catch Dansan."

  Her voice held no recrimination. She could have blamed him for forcing her to leave her beloved pet behind, even if it was dead. She could have railed at him for allowing his obsession with Dansan to take her only companion from her. But she didn't. Instead, she accepted the harsh realities of a world that had never dealt her a fair hand.

  Again, remorse at his own selfishness swept through Chase.

  "I should never have left the ship." Nessa's voice shook. "If I hadn't been so stupid, Turi would be alive now." Her voice broke completely, and he gathered her against him.

  "You didn't know," he soothed, although he should be reading her the riot act for leaving the ship. But he didn't have the heart in the face of her guilt. He had enough guilt of his own to judge anyone else. "It wasn't your fault, Nessa."

  "It was." A small sob escaped. Then another. "Spirit, but I never cry."

  Chase pulled her closer. "Then now is a good time to start. Go ahead and cry, Nessa. It's okay."

  The floodgates burst, then, and she sobbed against his chest, wrenching waves of grief and anguish. He swept her into his arms and sank onto the bunk, cradling her against him.

  He held her, murmuring reassuring words. He suspected she cried for more than Turi's loss; perhaps for her parents, or her destitute circumstances. If the duration of the flood were any indication, she'd been stockpiling tears a long time.

  Finally, the storm spent, she burrowed against him quietly. Her hands clutched his flightsuit as if it were a lifeline. Chase stroked the damp curls around her face, an immense tenderness welling up inside him. He hadn't been needed like this, hadn't responded to another's suffering in a long time…a very long time. "Are you okay?"

  She raised her tear-streaked face to his, her eyes reddened, but no longer so haunted. He found himself drawn into their dark depths as she slowly nodded. He caressed her cheek, soaking up the dampness there. She had the softest skin, like the petals of an Elysian starflower.

  Of its own volition, his hand slid along her neck, feeling the erratic pulse there, then to her shoulder. Wondering if she was that soft all over, he slipped his fingers beneath her tunic and stroked her shoulder and the back of her neck. Velvet. His pulse quickened. Her sharp intake of breath told him she wasn't unaffected by the contact either.

  "Chase," she whispered. His attention shifted to her lips—lush and trembling. Heat spiraled through him, settling in the lower extremities. He shouldn't do this, he told himself. He shouldn't. Leaning down, he touched his lips to hers. She didn't pull away.

  Stop this now. You've both suffered tremendous stress, Chase's rational side argued valiantly. She's vulnerable right now—and very innocent.

  But her tentative, sweet foray with the tip of her tongue, the sensuous feel of her, drove all rational thoughts from his head. Hormones took over, and he deepened the kiss. His hand slid down the outside of her tunic, cupping her breast. She pressed against him and he was lost. Tearing his mouth away, he kissed the softness of her neck, then moved his lips lower.

  "Nessa, Nessa," he muttered against her heaving breast. Need bolted through him; need so sharp he felt as if he'd been hit by a laser stream. He clamped his mouth onto the soft mound, frantically tonguing the nipple through the rough fabric. She cried out in surprise.

  More. He needed more.

  Breathing harshly, he yanked her tunic open. Her small breasts were beautifully rounded like dainty tarini fruit. The sight of her nipples beaded into tight nubs sent shockwaves to his groin. He cupped one breast, rubbing his thumb over the nipple. She gasped again.

  "This is also part of mating, Nessa," he murmured hoarsely. "Do you like it?" He moved to her other breast and fondled it. "Do you?"

  She arched against him. "Yes. Oh, yes."

  She wanted this, too. At least her body did.

  Chase knew with certainty if he slipped his hand beneath her tunic, he'd find her wet and hot, ready for his male invasion. He also knew he should slow down, initiate her leisurely into this new realm of sensuality.

  But then she grabbed his hair and pulled his face up to hers. Her mouth found and mated hungrily with his. He tasted the salt of her tears, the desperation of her need. With a groan, he returned her kiss, invading her mouth. He continued stroking her breasts and teasing her nipples. Her soft moans, her frantic movements against him, urged him onward
.

  He pulled her upright, slipping her tunic off and down her arms. She released him long enough to shake away her tunic, then pressed herself against him. Keeping their mouths sealed, he pushed his hands between them, unfastening and tearing off the top of his flightsuit. She murmured a protest when he broke the kiss to stand and yank off his boots, then the pants.

  He came down upon her again, kissing her eyes, her neck, her breasts, finally drawing a nipple into his mouth. "Chase!" she cried, thrashing beneath his relentless suckling.

  Spirit, but she tasted sweet. He moved to the other breast, mouthing the nipple and sucking it until she stilled and clutched his head against her. The blood pounded like a raging tide through his body.

  He moved his hand down her slender thigh. "Open your legs, sweetheart." Mindlessly, she obeyed, and he stroked the soft, feminine flesh, reassuring her when she almost surged off the bunk. "It's okay, Nessa. Touching you everywhere is part of mating."

  Sinking back, she allowed his intimate touch, moaning softly when he slid a finger inside. He lifted his head to watch her face as he moved his finger in and out. She was tight, virginal, as he had known she would be. He needed to slow this down.

  But as he felt her wetness increase around his finger, heard her panting helplessly while she instinctively opened her thighs wider and arched into the pleasure of his strokes, he couldn't wait any longer. He slid in a second finger and she moaned again. Stars, she was tight, but she was ready for him.

  "Sweetheart, I'm coming inside now," he whispered, swinging his body over hers. "Relax, and let me in."

  She raised her hips as he pressed his erection against her. As gently as possible, he began the push inside her, slowly, so slowly, he didn't know if he'd survive. She cried out, arching in pain now instead of pleasure. He pressed all the way in and stopped. "Nessa? Are you okay?"

  "No," she gasped. "No more." He had lost her. The pain of penetration overwhelmed the need of passion. She didn't utter another sound, but her nails digging into his shoulders and the tenseness of her body indicated her suffering.

  He should withdraw, but all she'd ever known was pain. If he released her now, with only the memory of the pain and not the pleasure, she'd never let him near her again. Somehow, he couldn't bear that happening.

  "Relax, Nessa, relax," he urged against her ear. "The pain will ease, I promise. Then there will be pleasure."

  She shook her head violently, and he held himself still, straining with the effort. Brushing her hair from her face, he pulled back enough to kiss her gently, coaxing her tongue to dance with his. He touched her, caressing her breasts and stroking the sensitive nub between her legs. He waited, continuing his sensual assault, until she moaned again, this time with pleasure.

  Then he moved inside her, with painstaking, torturous slowness at first. He rocked her in the mesmerizing movements of mating, increasing the tempo, until she responded, lifting her hips to meet his. His control broke then, and he thrust hard and fast, urging her to come with him. But as the momentary oblivion descended at the explosive release of his body, he knew she hadn't reached the summit.

  He held Nessa close while his breathing returned to normal. She lay passive and silent in his embrace. He regretted she hadn't shared the euphoria of climax.

  Other regrets surged forward, especially when he lifted his head and looked into her closed face. Guilt gnawed at him. He had given in to his baser needs, taking advantage of a grieving, innocent woman.

  He'd relinquished control to the odd attraction that had drawn him to her from their first meeting. Even worse, he'd hurt her, more than just physically. Lasting relationships would never exist for him. He couldn't offer her what she desperately needed: permanence, stability, love. Nessa deserved to be cherished and loved.

  He was no longer capable of love. Only hatred. And at this moment, he hated himself.

  He stroked her hair back from her face. "Are you okay?"

  She nodded, her eyes expressionless. Her usual response, he thought, shifting his weight off and settling on his side next to her. He swept his hand along her collarbone, down across her breast and over her rib cage. He could span her tiny waist with his hands. He frowned when he saw the scars on her abdomen. Odd, but he hadn't noticed them before. Leaning forward, he studied the two scars, tracing his finger along their raised ridges.

  Tensing suddenly, Nessa tried to push his hand away. Anger rocketed through him. He knew what those scars were. The result of sterilization—by an incredibly barbaric and crude method. Livid, he looked up at her. "Who did this to you?"

  "I don't want to talk about it." She shoved against him and rolled from the bunk.

  He swung upright and pulled her back. "Who did this?"

  Her eyes finally came to life, a myriad of emotions sweeping through them. "Please. I've had enough."

  Chase stared at her, feeling the tremors in her arm. He released her wrist and she fled to the lavatory. She had retreated from him, mentally as well as physically. Her words drilled into his conscience.

  She'd had enough.

  Of pain, of isolation—of him, he was certain.

  He hadn't even displayed enough stamina or restraint to ensure she enjoyed her first sexual encounter. She'd suffered the discomfort, but not the enjoyment. If her reaction provided any indication, she wouldn't be anxious to repeat the experience.

  The image of those scars jumped into his mind. He was beginning to wonder if Nessa had ever known any kindness. Her experiences had made her mentally tough, yet despite the obvious hardships she'd faced, she displayed an innate gentleness and concern for others. But now…would she ever let another man touch her?

  Probably not, and the blame rested on him. How many had already suffered needlessly because of his incompetence? Disgusted with himself, Chase rolled from the bunk. Seeing the blood on the covering, he wanted to kick himself. He yanked the blanket off. There was no sense in letting Nessa see it.

  He wouldn't come near her again. She deserved a real man, a capable man who had something to offer. Not him. He didn't intend to hurt her any more than he already had.

  * * * *

  Nessa leaned against the shower wall, letting the spray wash over her. If only it could cleanse away her disgrace, her embarrassment…the memory of the shocking things Chase had done to her. And the astonishing, incredible sensations…and the way she'd enjoyed it—until he'd hurt her so badly. The information she'd read on mating had never mentioned the pain.

  If it was like that every time, she couldn't understand why people would mate, except for the necessity of bearing offspring. Children. One thing she'd never have to worry about.

  A searing ache filled her chest and she clutched her abdomen. She'd always harbored a fondness for children, always dreamed of having little ones who would return her love, even if she was a freak. That choice had been denied her. At least she couldn't pass on her physical defect to an innocent child.

  But it hurt to be barren. To have nothing to offer, nothing to give. It amazed her that Chase had even mated with her. He wouldn't want to again, she felt certain. She thought of Moriah, with her stunning beauty and perfect body. How she and Sabin had looked at each other, their lingering touches. Surely Chase would prefer that, prefer a woman who was beautiful and whole, one who had something to offer.

  Not a deformed female who had been spurned by her own people. Chase's mating with her had been a mistake. He was too intelligent to repeat his mistakes. Nessa wouldn't risk further humiliation or pain.

  She would avoid Chase the remainder of the trip.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Nessa rose early the next cycle, tired from a restless night. The horrifying mental picture of Turi crashing against the wall, intermingled with thoughts of Chase and her traumatic mating with him, had robbed her of sleep. She'd been relieved to find him gone after her shower, although the emptiness of Turi's case, along with a sense of profound loneliness, almost made her long for Chase's comforting presence.

&nbs
p; Somehow he knew when she stirred from her bunk, because he rang her panel tone just minutes after she arose. Nessa stiffened, not ready to face him just yet. But she knew he'd enter her cabin with or without her permission.

  She braced herself. "Come in."

  He did, prompting her to take an involuntary step back. He always had that effect on her, his size crowding out everything else in her small cabin.

  Dark circles accentuated his eyes, making him look as tired as she felt. "How are you feeling this morning?"

  His deep voice brought unwelcome images of the two of them intimately entwined. She forced a breath into her lungs. "Fine."

  He studied her intently. "You'll probably be sore for a few days. I brought you this salve. It will help ease any discomfort." He held out a tube.

  Without looking directly at him, she took it. Fervently, she prayed to Spirit he'd leave now.

  He didn't. "Nessa…Nessa, I'm sorry about last night. It should never have happened. I take full responsibility. It wasn't your fault."

  She saw no cause for blame. Chase had mistakenly mated with her, and now he regretted it. Simple—and understandable. "It's okay," she whispered through a tightened throat.

  He stepped toward her, halting when she scooted away. "You don't have to worry about it happening again," he said quietly.

  She knew it wouldn't. Not with Chase, not with anyone. She looked at him, with as much composure as she could muster. "I understand."

  There seemed no need for further words, and with a brief nod, he left.For the next few days, he appeared as anxious as Nessa to avoid all contact. Their only real discussions occurred when she didn't want to come to the galley for meals. He would have none of it. She was going to eat—with him—and that was final.

  Even though Nessa avoided Chase outside of the stilted meals they shared, the computer drew her like a magnet. With Turi gone, her cabin seemed even more stark and lonely. Chase had never removed Turi's case, and it served as a glaring reminder of her loss. To escape her grief, she fled to the cockpit, seeking comfort in the wealth of knowledge found in the computer.