by Lilly Cain
She leaned toward him, breathed in the clean, salty scent of his skin.
John’s hand slid up from the back of her neck and into her hair. He caressed the L’inar on her scalp and she fought not to melt into his arms. He confused her. So sensual, so different than she’d imagined. Something about his story didn’t really ring true, but what did she know of human culture? She could only understand her duty and what they experienced together, and so far that had alternated from dangerous to blessed good.
A small blinking light caught her attention. Their time alone would have to wait. The silent alarm was being triggered by an external sensor sweep. The terrorists were looking for them, and they were getting closer.
She pulled away from John. For a second he gripped her closer, resisting her attempt to pull away. She pointed to the display panel and the blinking alarm.
“Someone is scanning the craters for us,” she whispered. “We’re still in danger.”
She stepped toward the communications unit. John moved with her, his hand resting on her shoulder as she tapped in an inquiry. She didn’t need reassurance—she’d been a warrior all her adult life—but his touch made her sensitive to his closeness, to the seductive feeling of desire that seemed to follow him like a scent.
“It’s the last ship that attacked us.” There was no question now. She wouldn’t argue it with John again, not just yet, but he was definitely the target. She had years of experience to back up her opinion. These people were searching for him, and they weren’t giving up. It had been no random attack. He was the target.
“We can’t call for help. An open channel would pinpoint us as clearly as if we shot a signal flare into space,” John whispered back.
She nodded. “We are going to follow your idea. We will barricade ourselves in the base. If they do find the ship and follow us in, it will give us time while they try to get inside. We’ll be more defensible and mobile. The human and Inarrii council will be expecting you in a few hours, and when you don’t arrive they’ll come looking for us.”
“Well, let’s make sure we’re still here to be found.”
“One way or another, we’ve only got hours before the moon’s rotation puts us in the light and exposes the tail of the ship.” Sarina tasted disappointment but she knew her job. She moved on to initiate lockdown on the shuttle. Once they’d gone out the doors no one would be able to enter and use the controls without a series of protocols that only those in her command chain were familiar with.
John caught her arm gently and pulled her close. “Hours can be long, Sarina. Long enough that you and I can find some time for each other.” He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
What began as a soft kiss threatened to devour her. For a long moment she let herself fall into the depths of his embrace. Somehow he knew what she’d been thinking, how desperate she was to feel something again with him. Ripples of sensation shuddered through her L’inar, rocking her with their intensity.
She prayed to the gods there would be time for everything John promised.
Chapter Six
“Okay, that’s it. We’re in full lockdown.” Sarina palmed the control panel for the interior base hatch. “My DNA is coded into the security file. They’d have to blow the hatch to get in now.”
“Perfect.” John slipped a hand into his pocket and thumbed a microbug alive. Before they’d left the shuttle he’d had time to change into a basic shipsuit and grab the bag containing his personal effects. Much as he’d appreciated the way Sarina’s eyes followed him while he was wearing the pettan, a full set of clothes on hand was a good thing, and so was the fact that no one had discovered his little trove of spy gadgetry. Tricks of the trade, some might call them, but in this situation, they might be the only way to maintain his cover and still perform his duty.
Sarina walked to the other side of the small room and placed a palm against what looked like a blank section of the wall. John blinked as the wall lit up under her touch, revealing a complex key and vid system. She concentrated on it, tapping various codes. John used her distraction to slide closer to the hatch and press the bug against the lock circuitry. It could be that the device would be ineffectual against Inarrii technology, but he was willing to take the chance. If he could get any additional information from the base for Starforce, it was a bonus, but more importantly he hoped the bug would give him some warning if the terrorists or Raveners made an attempt at opening the door—one that didn’t involve just blowing it up.
“They’re still looking for us, but they’ve moved to a different sector,” Sarina spoke softly but didn’t look up from the small display.
John mentally tagged the unit for the next bug—this must be a communication unit for her to be able to find out that information. Communications would be good. If there was any possibility of getting a message to Davis and therefore Starforce, this was it. He wouldn’t risk contact while they were still being hunted, but if necessary he’d send a data dump at the last moment before they were captured or more probably killed—including every speck of information from the bugs on the Osprey and the ones here, and finally info on his own death.
Lights flickered on deeper into the hallway. Sarina was apparently reinitiating the power systems throughout the rooms and John was relieved to note the increase in ambient light. It made things a lot easier being able to see clearly. He glanced back at his Inarrii warrior bodyguard. It also helped to level the playing ground again between them. Sarina looked up and caught him staring at her. Damn, she was beautiful. Maybe not in a classic way, but it was perfect for him—her long nose and green eyes, shoulder-length hair and a body that could kick ass.
She seemed to sense his interest and stepped away from the comm pad. A few steps took her to the hallway. “I’m going to do a walk through. Stay here and I will return in a few minutes.”
Before he could object she was through the doorway and headed down the hall. She was running from him, or maybe from his promise. John took a deep breath. The air didn’t have the tang he expected from an abandoned base. The hydroponics oxygen system must still be active. Moving quickly, he set the second bug against the communications panel and pressed against it lightly. The unit seemed to melt into the electronics. John tapped his wrist comp, checking the link between the two bugs. The unit on the hatch was set to watchdog mode and seemed to be operating. The communications bug was silent. Damn. He swore under his breath. Hard to say if it was going to get him the access he needed or not.
John paced the length of the room. Now that Sarina had set the controls and lighting to a level where he could observe them, he found the glowing curved lettering on the walls and controls almost familiar. Their sinuous lines reminded him of Sarina’s L’inar. There was nothing else he could do for the moment. They were being hunted, but it appeared as though they’d thrown their hunters off course for now. There was nothing to do but wait. If they came, he was ready for a siege situation—or as ready as he could be. He had his kit, good air and likely food, and a partner he could rely on.
It was a strange feeling—relying on anyone. It had been years since he could call anyone a partner, or even admit that he might want one. Davis didn’t count; despite working with him for years, he rarely laid eyes on the man. Partners were people who could hurt you, just by being there. If something happened to your wingman, the emotional aspect alone might kill you. Make you unable to react in time… He forced his mind away from the past. The death of one friend was enough to make sure he’d never requested a new partner. Solo missions were more his style.
If the terrorists didn’t come looking for them, it was only a matter of time before their people picked them up, and he could return to his mission, completing the Treaty and protecting the negotiators from within. If Sarina knew the truth about what he was, undercover protection, she might just want to join him. He thought of her impressive record. A real
partner, one who wasn’t the kind of rookie who got herself killed, could be a good thing. But then, she could be more of a distraction than he could handle.
“To hell with this.” Cover or not, he wasn’t going to sit around thinking about something that wasn’t likely to happen. He didn’t have the clearance to tell her who he was, let alone ask her to help him. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to. John walked to the corridor. He was going to explore the Inarrii spy base. It was an opportunity not to be wasted. He could have a look at the Inarrii surveillance equipment, and the layout in case they were attacked. And if there was nothing else to learn he could find Sarina and take up what they’d left off, and this time he was going to take it slow. Or maybe hard and fast and then slow.
* * *
Sarina slid the privacy door shut on the single sleeproom within the base and walked out into the corridor toward the hydroponics lab. She’d discovered the room minutes after leaving the control room. The last thing she’d needed was the sight of the large double-wide bed. Agent Gaerrii had taken the time to personalize the space somewhat, programming the walls a dark red and installing a black carpet and air covers. Even the lighting had been dialed to the red tones of sunset at home. The overall effect reminded Sarina of how good it would be to lie on the beach on Inar again. And not alone.
If John cornered her in the bedroom, with his eyes full of desire and that soft ocean scent that seemed to emanate from his skin, Sarina would be doomed. She’d forget duty, forget the mission and reveal everything about herself and what she could no longer attain. She’d either jump on him or beg him for pleasure. Facing the traditional Inarrii bedroom, she realized that attempting sex, even as therapy, no longer seemed like a good idea. How could a human help her when an Inarrii Examiner had been unable to bring her to orgasm? And yet her soul clung to the desperate hope that he could somehow save her. She wasn’t used to feeling helpless or indecisive. It rankled, gnawed at her. She ran her hands over the hilts of her dash’tet knives on her forearms as she walked into the corridor. There’d better be some action soon or she would lose all control.
Sarina strode through the corridor and into the large hydroponics production lab, halting abruptly when she realized she wasn’t alone. Soft green light bounced up from the large, clear gel tanks, sending odd shadows dancing over John’s body as he stood with his back to her. He’d spread his legs for balance as he leaned into the waist-high level two hydroponics tank and the thick layer of muscle along his back, legs and ass was clearly defined though his shipsuit. He reached into the tank and pulled out a handful of electro-fired bio gel. He couldn’t hurt anything, touching the thick, wet slime, but she must have made some sound as she watched him because he turned to her. Light reflected off the transparent gel in his hands as he let it trickle through his fingers. His shipsuit was peeled back to his elbows to reveal powerful forearms.
His m’ittar reached for her in an inexperienced, yet graceful embrace of the mind. He was thinking of her, of how her body looked in the dark of the night in their shared rooms. She gasped. Linking with him sent ripples through her L’inar. His thoughts, mostly images, were lurid art painted across her mind.
He took a step toward her. Dazed by the power of his mental contact, she almost retreated, but he seemed to guess, or perhaps sense her hesitation through their shared thoughts. He moved quickly, stepping even closer until he could pull her into his arms. He wrapped his hand, still wet with the bio gel, around the base of her neck and lowered his mouth to hers. Her L’inar throbbed, stiffening into ridges under his slick fingers. The sensation spread, sending pulses of lust down her neck and spine. She moaned in his embrace. He took advantage of her weakness, and his tongue delved between her lips.
He tasted like the ocean, like the soft scent of his skin—salty sweet. Dear gods, I am drowning. And she wanted it. She wanted to slide beneath the waves with him. They were safe for now, hidden a mile under solid rock. The sensors would let her know before anyone found them. Why couldn’t they take the time to explore each other?
He stroked her injured arm and reality slammed into her, breaking the waves of pleasure that were pulling her under.
“We can’t do this, not now. They could be on us at any time.” The excuse sounded like exactly that, an excuse, even to her ears.
“They’re looking in a different section entirely. It could be hours before they return to this area, if ever. Our own people could be here first.” He half thought, half murmured the words as he breathed against the tender flesh of her ear and neckline. The electro fired bio gel from his damp touch reacted to his breath and pulsed, enhancing the sensation. She groaned and the L’inar along her collarbone tightened, shooting a message of sexual desire that curved along the outer edge of her breast.
He was right. But still, she hesitated, and she hated herself for it. What Inarrii would say no when they had the time and their L’inar were tight with desire? But no matter what she felt in his arms now, she might not be able to find release. He stroked her arm and the nerve lines there didn’t send their wicked pleasure along the outer abdominals lines on the way to her sinaa like they ought to. They couldn’t, not any longer. If she couldn’t find release now, perhaps she never would. Her belly tightened in a feeling that could only be fear. Did she really want to know if it could happen, one way or the other?
John pulled back but didn’t let her go. He looked into her eyes. He knew. Somehow, he knew she was afraid. She could sense his understanding and that was as upsetting as the realization that she was afraid in the first place. Warriors didn’t have uncertainty. Uncertainty lead to inaction and that, led inevitably to death.
“We have time, Sarina,” he murmured and she closed her eyes as he kissed her again. Warmth poured through their joined minds. He wanted her; she wanted him too. But what would be easy for any other Inarrii came slowly to her now. Instead of acting in response to the urges of her L’inar, she had to make a conscious choice. She breathed in the scent of his skin, touched his smooth neck. He stroked her back slowly through the hardy material of her fighting uniform, unconsciously caressing the rising nerve lines there. She opened her lips and let his tongue touch hers.
Finally she broke the embrace and looked into his eyes. She sent a pulse of desire and warmth along their m’ittar. “Yes.”
He didn’t speak. The soft hum of the hydroponics oxy system provided the only sound beyond their mingled breathing, and the submerged green lamps in the gel tanks gave off a light that was both surreal and sexual. Sarina pulled her auxiliary weapons harness from her shoulders. He moved to help her, easing the arm sheaths for her dash’tet from her forearms.
It was a slow seduction as he pulled her major weapons harness from her chest. He was disarming her, making her vulnerable, and her L’inar rippled with each layer he removed. It was as if he was peeling away the tough leather of a mariin fruit to reveal what lay beneath—the sweet flesh, and her soul. He kneeled to remove the second set of dash’tet knives from her calves. He tugged at her leg and she balanced on one foot as he pulled her boot off. There were no words, either spoken or thought, just his silent actions as he bared her skin and discarded everything that identified her as a warrior. Finally he began to remove the pressure-sensitive tocuh seals that held her uniform tightly shut against her body, tugging them free from his position on the floor.
Sarina pulled on his shipsuit collar. “Aren’t you going to take this off too?” Her words caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard when his only response was to give her a lazy smile and to continue to open the seals. The top half of her uniform fell back, baring her breasts. After a little more tugging, the waist seal and leggings gave way as well and she was left standing naked before him. Every inch of her L’inar, even the disconnected lines on her arm, stood to rigid attention before his inspection.
Sarina cleared her throat. She’d been started at thousands of times during her recove
ry from the injury that damaged her L’inar, but never like this. Never with the heat of pure lust pouring over her through their connected thoughts. She shuddered, and her L’inar flattened and then pulsed into tight ridges once again. She felt her sinaa growing wet, throbbing with need. Dear gods, this had better work. If John could not bring her to orgasm at this level of response she was as good as dead, because she really would go insane.
He touched her then, laying the wide palms of his hands flat against her thighs. With a gentle push he nudged her back until her calves hit the slick surface of a low seat on one side of the tank behind her.
“I’ve been thinking of this since I met you.” John’s voice rasped against her ears, drew a gasp of breath from her lips. The level of his desire washing over her through their m’ittar contact was overwhelming. “I didn’t take my time before. Now I need to touch you. Lay back.”
Sarina sat on the couch. It was a simple padded bench, but right now she couldn’t have cared if it was a rough wooden plank. Heat pooled in her sinaa as she imagined his lips there, his tongue invading her depths. But as she lay back John lifted one of her legs, kissing the curving arch of her foot. Surprise flickered though her and sent her nerve lines dancing along the inner lines of her thighs. Slowly he licked the sensitive flesh of her sole, teased his tongue into the area between her toes.
His action confused her, caused her heart to race. When she would have pulled back he moved closer to the bench and bent her leg at the knee until her hips opened. He used one hand to trace the extremely sensitive L’inar lines above her knee and up her thigh until he worked closer to her sinaa. She felt exposed; her heart pounded harder with excitement. With each caress he nibbled the edge of her foot. Sensation warred within her—the strangeness of his attention toward her foot knocked against the intense pleasure of the rough edge of his nail dragging against her fully aroused nerve lines.
