by Nina Croft
Why wasn’t he elated? Instead he felt as though he was about to lose something. Something he’d never actually had.
He forced himself to think through it logically.
The truth was, he didn’t want her to go.
But if she stayed here, she would die with the rest of them. He’d be unable to protect her, just like he’d been unable to protect his pack.
“I’ll take you,” he said.
He’d hand her over to the Church, he’d pick up the reward money, and he’d keep right on going, head off on his own. That was how it should be.
She nodded. “I’ll meet you in the docking bay in half an hour.”
…
Alex had to get out of there. If she’d stayed any longer, she might have broken down and decided she should stay after all. She’d thought he would leap at the chance to get rid of her. But he hadn’t. In fact, he’d been downright reluctant, and she’d sensed her resolve weakening. She’d wanted to wrap her arms around him, bury her head against his chest, and let him tell her that everything was going to work out.
Of course, she hadn’t. Because he couldn’t tell her that.
Back in her cabin, she dragged the bundle out of the small cupboard, while Mogg watched her from the bed. These were her only possessions when she’d come aboard—now she wished she’d tossed them away on Trakis Twelve. She shook out the black robes. The material was the finest available. It didn’t help—she loathed them.
Glancing down at her lovely orange jumpsuit, a wave of loss washed over her so strong she staggered under the weight of it. She knew she was doing the right thing, but this way she wouldn’t even get to say good-bye to her friends. And they were friends, probably the first true friends she had had in her entire life. Maybe she’d send Skylar a comm, to apologize, once she was safely back in the Abbey.
Everyone was still on the bridge discussing how to evade the Church. Soon they wouldn’t need to. She hoped they’d be grateful and not angry with her.
As she stripped off the jumpsuit and boots, she cast a quick look down her body. All she wore was a pair of scarlet panties. She’d keep those on. No one would know what was beneath her robes. Except her.
She pulled the black dress over her head and tugged her boots back on. The robes were old-fashioned in design and buttoned up the back. At the Abbey, she’d always had people to help her dress. Here, she’d have to ask Jon. She crumpled up the headdress, shoved it in her pocket, and she was ready to go.
Mogg rubbed up against her legs as though he could sense something amiss. She had to leave him behind, and she couldn’t bear it, even though she knew Daisy would take care of him. She sank onto the bed, pulled him onto her lap, and stroked his silky fur.
Then she gave him one last hug, put him down on the floor, and ran from the room before she could change her mind.
Jon was waiting for her, dressed in his black coat and leaning against the side of the shuttle. When he caught sight of her, his eyes widened. He stood up straight, staring at her outfit in disbelief.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
She ignored the comment, slammed her hand into the door panel, and heaved a sigh of relief when it slid open. The Trog had assured her he’d adjusted the systems, but she hadn’t been sure he’d really understood what she needed. Standing to the side, she gestured for Jon to enter then followed him inside.
“You do know they’ll notice as soon as the outer doors open?” Jon said. “They’ll very likely stop us. If they threaten to shoot, I’m turning straight back.”
“No they won’t. The Trog’s shut down the external monitors.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because I asked him to. But we have to leave now.”
The interior of the shuttle was small—about ten feet by ten feet. With two seats facing a bank of consoles. Jon sat down in the pilot’s seat, and Alex took the one next to him. It hadn’t occurred to her to ask if he could actually fly one of these things, but he appeared quite competent, and soon they were speeding away from El Cazador.
Alex still hadn’t asked him to fasten the dress. Now she stood up and turned her back to him. “Would you do me up?”
“What?”
“Do up my dress—I can’t reach the buttons.”
“Do I look like a goddamn lady’s maid?”
She peeked over her shoulder to where he slouched in the chair, his expression vaguely hostile.
“Please?”
She turned around again and waited. Finally, she heard him rise to his feet. He stood behind her, not moving, not touching her, but close enough so she could feel the heat from his body on her bare skin.
“Aw fuck. What the hell.”
At his words, she made to turn around, but his hands slid down to rest on her hips and hold her in place. She should move away, but she couldn’t make her feet take the necessary steps. Holding her breath, she waited to see what he would do.
He reached across and slammed his hand down on the controls. The engines died. The shuttle drifted, and still she waited.
One finger stroked down the length of her spine, sending pleasure shooting along her nerve endings. All the way down, until it delved beneath the edge of her panties to tease the cleft at the top of her buttocks.
A small whimper escaped her mouth, and she bit down on her lower lip.
She couldn’t have moved now for anything.
The finger trailed back upward, and both of his hands slid inside the gaping dress. For a second they rested, flat against her ribcage, burning heat searing her flesh. They glided around over her sensitized skin, and he cupped her breasts and squeezed gently. Alex shuddered as exquisite pleasure melted her insides.
Her nipples ached with need, and he rubbed them with his palm so they hardened. He rolled them between his fingers and thumbs, then tugged at the stiff peaks, sending darts of sensation shooting down through her belly to settle between her thighs.
Jon leaned over her, so his hot breath feathered along the back of her neck, and her whole body shivered in response.
“Do you like that?” he murmured against her skin, and he gently massaged her nipple.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded breathless to her ears.
He laughed softly and kissed her throat, his mouth open. Her head fell back, and she squirmed against his hands. She’d never imagined a man’s hands could feel like this. That his mouth could drive all logical thought from her mind, reducing her to nothing more than a mass of nerve endings, each one craving his touch.
“What are you doing?” She forced the words out.
“Everyone is allowed one good deed in a lifetime of bad ones. This is mine.” He licked her throat. “Something to remember in your lonely bed, back at the Abbey.”
One hand left her breast and tugged the material of the dress down over her shoulders and arms so it fell to her waist. Now, her breasts were bare, cupped in his big hands, her skin pale against his darkness. Mesmerized, she watched as he played with her, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over the taut peaks, then scraping his nails over them gently.
A pulse throbbed between her legs, and she clenched her thighs together to intensify the feeling. He must have sensed the movement, because his hands went still.
“Do you want me?” he whispered in her ear as one hand skimmed beneath the dress, over the flat plane of her belly. She couldn’t answer, the power of speech had deserted her, but she didn’t need to. For a second he cupped her in his hand before pushing beneath the panties. His fingers found her and slid between the folds of her sex.
Her knees gave way, and she almost fell, but his arm around her waist held her steady while his clever fingers moved between her thighs.
“Open your legs,” he murmured and pushed one leg between hers, widening her stance.
She was frozen in place as one finger pushed up inside her, then withdrew to draw lazy circles around that point that throbbed and pulsed. The sensation was overwhelming, everything was out of control.
/>
“I can’t…”
She didn’t know what she couldn’t do, then he found the exact spot, rubbed once, twice, and she exploded.
He held her tight while her body convulsed. Only when the tremors eased did he turn her around in his arms and held her loosely so she could look up into his face.
A lazy smile played across his lips. “Well, that was easy.”
Alex hadn’t known it could feel like that. That her body would respond so readily to a man’s touch. Not any man’s, only this one, she reminded herself.
She wanted to hold him and lie in his arms and never let him go. The thought was like ice water poured over her. She wrenched herself free and stepped back, dragging the dress up over her naked breasts. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes you can.”
“We have to stop.”
“No we don’t.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve got to go back, and I don’t want to, and this makes it harder and”—she paused then said the only thing she could think of that would make him back off—“and I think I might be falling in love with you.”
He’d been reaching out to pull her back to him, but at her words, his hands fell to his side, his eyes wary as he studied her.
“Turn around,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to fasten your dress.”
Chapter Twelve
He could still smell her arousal in the air, stirring his blood.
They hadn’t spoken since he’d fastened her dress. Now, as the ship settled on the soft sand of the moon’s surface, he switched off the engine and glanced sideways to where she sat strapped into the seat beside him. Alex faced straight ahead, a fixed expression on her small face.
She thought she was falling in love with him.
Even if she stayed, he couldn’t offer her anything except a very likely death.
Nothing had changed, and everything had changed.
He wanted to be angry. But he also wanted to understand.
“Why ?” he asked.
She turned and blinked as if coming out of a trance. “Sorry?”
“You told me you always planned to go back—what I don’t understand is, why? Once you got away, why not turn your back on the whole rotten lot of them? Don’t tell me you actually believe the crap the Church spouts.”
“Most of the crap, and most of the time, no—I don’t believe it. But a lot of people do. The Church gives hope to many.”
“Yeah, and it kills a whole load more.”
“That’s my point. I’ve done a lot of thinking and reading since I’ve been away, and I’ve come to realize that the main reason I was so unhappy was because I was a drone. I did what they told me to do, and it all felt so futile. But it doesn’t have to be like that.”
“You reckon you can change things?”
She nodded, and some of the animation returned to her face. “Generations ago, the High Priestess had more power than the High Priest. Something happened, and she became a mere figurehead. I’m going to change that. I’m going to get the power back and make things better.”
“Jesus,” he muttered. “I knew you were naive the first moment I saw you. People don’t want things better. People want money, power, and immortality.”
“Is that what you want?”
The truth was, he no longer knew what he wanted. Right from the start, she’d confused him, twisted his thoughts, and made him believe that things could be different. He could be different.
None of that changed the fact that he couldn’t protect her from the Collective or the Church hell bent to have her back under their thumb. An image of his slaughtered pack flashed across his mind. He’d been their alpha—it had been his job to protect them, and they had died. All but him. He couldn’t keep her safe. This time, he doubted he could keep himself safe.
The best he could hope to do was go into hiding, but the Collective wielded so much power that eventually he would be found. Unless he kept moving, kept running. What sort of life was that?
She was so young. At least this way she would have a life.
“I just want to be left alone.”
Her lips tightened then she visibly relaxed. “Well, that’s good because in a few minutes, I’ll be leaving you alone for good.”
“Off to save mankind.” Why couldn’t he leave it alone? He was goading her but couldn’t seem to stop.
“The ones who want saving—yes.”
“And will that be enough?”
“It will have to be.” She unfastened the harness and got to her feet, brushing down the ludicrous black gown. He couldn’t help but remember what was beneath it—a pair of tiny scarlet panties, and a whole load of bare skin.
“You can still change your mind. I can take you back to El Cazador.”
“No, I can’t. I can’t do that to them. Without me, they might have some chance of keeping ahead of the Collective.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say they could disappear together, take the shuttle and vanish. But he swallowed the words down. It was a stupid thought. He heaved himself up. “Let’s do this.”
She nodded, pulled a scrap of material out of her pocket, shook it out, and placed it on her head, covering her vibrant red hair. He hadn’t thought she could look any worse, but he’d been wrong. God, those clothes were ugly.
“Suits you,” he said.
She cast him a look of disbelief, but all she said was, “Thank you.”
The moon had an atmosphere ideal for supporting human life, but nothing else—no water, no soil—so it had never been colonized. It was a bare, desolate landscape of ochre rock bathed in perpetual twilight.
The air was cool outside the shuttle. Jon checked the readings to get a fix on the rendezvous point and headed off. After a few minutes, he realized she had fallen behind, and he slowed his pace to accommodate her.
“Not exactly built for convenience, that outfit—is it?”
She didn’t answer, just picked up her heavy skirts and followed him.
They walked slowly across the soft sand, neither speaking until up ahead he saw the outlines of two ships. He stopped while he studied them. One was small, obviously a shuttle from a larger ship, and bore the cross of the Church on the side. The other was bigger, squat, black, and ugly. An unmarked Mark One cruiser, capable of deep space travel.
Unease stirred inside him at the sight, but he forced the feeling down. He was just looking for excuses.
“There they are,” he said.
Alex had come to a halt beside him. Her face appeared serene, but her small hands gripped the black material of her skirt so hard, her knuckles showed white in the dim light.
She must have perfected that expression at an early age. Learned how to hide what she was really feeling.
“Come on,” she murmured. “Let’s get this over with.”
Without waiting for him to answer, she marched off in the direction of the ships.
…
For a moment, Alex thought he wasn’t going to follow. She kept moving and finally heard his slow steps behind her. Keeping her breathing slow, she tried to calm the panic clawing at her insides, willing her to turn around and run. Even in the cool air, her skin felt hot and itchy under the heavy dress and with each step she neared the ships, the robes grew heavier.
The ships had landed in a large clearing surrounded by steep rocks. The entrance was through a narrow gap between two of the great stones. As she stepped between them, a small group of men appeared from behind the larger ship. She hesitated, and Jon stopped slightly behind her and leaned in close.
“Is that the High Priest guy?”
“Yes.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “The creep looks just as I imagined.”
Alex had known Hezrai Fischer her entire life, and she had stopped noticing his appearance as you do with people you see on a day-to-day basis. Now she studied him as though seeing a stranger for the first time.
Hezrai liked
to think himself an ascetic. He ate sparingly, took no drugs or stimulants. He was over a hundred, but his body beneath the robes was lean and strong, the body of a much younger man. Yet his face had developed an intemperate cast as though something rotten inside him was trying to escape.
Alex had hated him for as long as she could remember. She’d wanted to like him, but even as a child, she had sensed his dislike of her. More than dislike—he hated her. Technically the High Priestess stood above the High Priest in the hierarchy of the Church and she reckoned that fact had festered in Hezrai’s mind. But if she had been a drone, then it was Hezrai at the controls, and if she was going to somehow change her position and actually take back some of the power, then it was Hezrai she would need to wrest it from.
He stood in front of the shuttle. At his back stood three men, and she frowned. She didn’t recognize them. The Church had a small army of private soldiers, but she knew most of them. These men she had never seen before, and they didn’t wear the uniform of the Church’s army. Besides, they looked bad. Maybe Hezrai had had to bring extra people on to search for her. Maybe he did care. There must be some reason he had gone to so much trouble.
So she smiled as she came to a halt in front of him. “Hezrai, how nice to see you.”
Something flashed in his eyes, before he blanked the expression and smiled at her—with his lips at least.
She’d thought about what to reveal regarding her little time away and decided her best bet was a mix of the truth laced with a few embellishments. The hardest bit would be convincing him that she’d somehow wandered onto his ship by mistake that day. If she could get him to believe that, the rest was easy.
Afterward, she’d got lost on Trakis Twelve and been picked up by the crew of El Cazador. She’d been scared, unsure of what they would do if she revealed who she was, so she’d disguised herself as a cabin boy. And she’d been waiting for a chance to leave the ship and contact the Church when Hezrai had found her.
