Shades of Dark

by Linnea Sinclair

  “Sullivan’s on the bridge?”

  “No. Working with Del, I think. Do you need to talk to him?”

  “At some point, we have to pick up our discussion, yes. But we have a few days. Jump is damnably good for hashing out problems, but not for acting on them.”

  “How’s this?” I tossed him a black thermal shirt.

  He held it up against his chest. “Fine.”

  “I think the gray ones are in the next bin.” I leaned to my right.

  “Just trying to get a feel for your shift schedules too.”

  “Sully’s rarely on the bridge. Ready room, a lot. But he has pilots and he has crew. Not that he can’t handle just about every station.” I looked over my shoulder and grinned down at him. “Oh, but he cannot cook. Dorsie’s banned him from the working area of the galley.” I found a gray shirt and a pair of fatigue pants, tossed them down as well.

  “He had another pilot.” It wasn’t a question. Philip had the same intelligence on Gabriel Sullivan that I had when I was the captain of the Meritorious.

  “Gregor.” I squatted down to access the bin with the coveralls. “We—or rather Sully—found out he was selling out to the Farosians. That’s how Dalby intercepted us. Then we found out he’d been selling information to one of Tage’s people as well. The man had a serious gambling problem. He’d been on the take for some time.”

  “Sullivan didn’t know this?”

  “If you mean did he routinely probe his crew’s minds, no.”

  “I’m special, then.”

  I heard the faint note of derision in his voice. I turned and sat on the top step. “That was then, Philip. This is now. Sully is not who or what he was the last time you saw him. Neither is the situation we’re in. It scared me at first, when I saw the changes. But now I think it could well save our lives.”

  Philip leaned on the railing and propped one boot on the bottom step. “What is he now?”

  “A Kyi.”

  “I know that.”

  “A very powerful Kyi.”

  “As much as Prince Regarth Cordell?”

  “You know more about that than I do, but based on what I’ve heard Del say, yes. Or he will be when Del’s through training him.”

  “Training him,” Philip said slowly. “In what sense?”

  “In the sense of I don’t know.” I waved one hand in the air. “Things Ragkiril-ish.”

  “Have you heard Del use the term guri?”

  I hesitated. Guri. I knew the word from somewhere. “I’ve heard him call Sully his best student. That’s all.”

  Philip wiped one hand over his mouth and turned away for a moment.

  I didn’t like that. I knew what it meant: I’m going to tell you something you don’t want to hear. “What?” I demanded.

  “Be very careful if you find out Del considers himself Sullivan’s guri. Promise me you’ll let me know.”

  “Why?” Guri, guri. I couldn’t place where I’d heard it or read it. “You think Del and Sully are lovers or something? I assure you, Philip, Sullivan is not interested in his own gender. At all. Plus, he’d have no energy to. Not with the way we—” I stopped, suddenly remembering who I was talking to. “We have a very healthy and close relationship,” I finished lamely.

  I stood, face burning, and pulled open another bin praying the coveralls were inside it.

  “You’re his ky’sara,” Philip said quietly. “I imagine you have a very active and healthy relationship. Kyis are highly motivated by pleasure, both the giving and the receiving.”

  Now, where had I heard that before? I asked myself wryly, pulling out two pairs of gray coveralls.

  “And therein is the problem, Chaz,” Philip continued as I closed the bin. “Because if Del and Sullivan have a guri-student relationship, then it will be Sullivan’s duty to share you, your pleasure, with his mentor. You will be not only Sullivan’s ky’sara but Regarth’s lover.”

  Lover. I could almost hear Del’s deep voice in my mind.

  I sat down on the top stair with a thump, coveralls dangling in my hand.

  Philip climbed up, took the coveralls, then lowered himself to the step below. “When I recognized Regarth on the bridge, I hoped I was wrong. Let’s put this stuff away then I’ll get us both some tea. I think you need to tell me what’s really going on.”

  I sat in the chair in Philip’s cabin, cradling my tea. The cabin used to be Aubry’s. It was roomier than most crew’s quarters, with a private lav, two dark blue cushioned chairs, a small galley alcove, and another alcove, for a double bed. But it wasn’t fit for an admiral, not by any means. It didn’t even have a viewport.

  But Philip wasn’t complaining. He’d never been the complaining type.

  He sat in the other chair, ankle resting on his knee. He waited.

  “I’m not telling you anything I haven’t told Sully,” I said. “He knows Del’s behavior bothers me. You also know,” and I flicked him a glance, “he could be aware of our conversation.”

  “I assume as much. Regarth as well. He seemed confident of his ability to link to you on the bridge when we hit the Kyi gate.”

  “I’m relatively sure he links to me at times that Sully’s unaware of.” I told him of my first meeting with Del, what I thought of as his ambush of me on Narfial. And of the warmth Del could send through me, like Sully could. And how he’d been calling me “lover.”

  “I don’t have my aunt’s complete knowledge of Kyis and guris,” Philip said when I’d finished. “And we’re comm-dead in this jump so I can’t even access her files, if my pass codes haven’t already been deleted.” He shook his head. “But based on my own knowledge, it fits the pattern.”

  “Philip.” I closed my eyes briefly, wanting to clench my fists and pound them on the chair’s soft arms. “I know Sullivan. He wouldn’t tolerate that. And it’s not because he’s some kind of possessive, controlling man. He’s not. But he loves me and he honors what’s between us. He respects me.”

  And he did. For all that we’d been through, even with our recent spat, there was a sense of deep love emanating from him whenever we were together. And even when we were not. It was as if, in the midst of all my fearful duro-hards, there was nestled something else. Something gentle yet powerful. And it was wrapped in the words all that I am is yours.

  “Chaz, he won’t have a choice. It is part of what a Kyi is, what a Kyi does when he or she reaches certain levels of power. Understand that to Regarth, he’s not asking for anything unusual or wrong. It’s his culture. It’s a practice steeped in tradition that goes back centuries.”

  The thought of Del made my jaw clench. “Maybe I’m just not an old-fashioned kind of girl.”

  “But you are a source of power.”

  I frowned, not understanding.

  “I did a lot of reading on Ragkirils after you left the Loviti last time. Went through all my aunt’s research, a few other people’s too.” Philip turned his mug in his hands. “Sullivan kept throwing out the words ky’sal and equal relationship. I made it my business to find out if that was true. It was. He wasn’t lying about that. If he had been,” Philip shrugged, “you probably would have seen me long before now.”

  “Philip Guthrie,” I said softly. “Defender of the galaxy. Protector of widows and ex-wives.”

  Another shrug. “I’m a better ex-husband than husband. And I’m a worried friend.”

  “What do you mean I’m a source of power?”

  “You want the textbook recitation? It’s probably easier this way, considering the two of us. All right. A Kyi can increase his strength and power through intense sexual activity, especially when the act is performed in the energies of the Kyi. That strength can double, even triple, if the act is between a ky’sal and a ky’sara. The ky’saran link—and Sullivan was correct on that—is a special bond. Sex feeds both parties, but energizes both parties.” He glanced quickly at me. “Am I telling you anything you don’t already know?”

  “Uh, no,” I said, chagrined y
et astonished. Suddenly I understood. “I need a lot less sleep. So does he. And the few times I’ve been pushed to my limits, had to work back-to-back shifts, he would, well, you know.” God, I’m sitting here with a man I’d slept with for almost ten years and I couldn’t talk about sex. I felt like an idiot.

  “He made love to you,” Philip filled in for me.

  “Beyond my wildest imagination,” I said, my voice cracking. I took a large gulp of tea. Lashto would be good about now.

  “And instead of being more tired…” Philip said, leaving his sentence hanging so I could finish it.

  “I could have powered the whole fucking ship myself. Pardon the pun.”

  “Triple it,” Philip said. “That’s what he got out of it.”

  I was shaking my head. I knew.

  “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Philip said.

  “Until we bring Del into the picture.”

  “It was a way of balancing power, I think, centuries ago on Stol. A strong ky’saran link could make a Kyi extremely powerful. The clan couldn’t afford the imbalance. Sharing the source of power, or offering a source of power as a form of gratitude, became customary. Revered. From what I understand, the power actually grows, instead of diminishing. So Sullivan wouldn’t lose by sharing you.”

  I slanted a narrowed-eyed glance at Philip. “How much would you like to bet?”

  “Be careful, Chaz. A Kyi in the heat of a power-transfer may not stop to think how much he loves you.”

  I’d already shot him once but I didn’t think this was the time to tell Philip that. I put my mug on the table next to the chair. “We’re not a clan here. And Sully’s not a Stolorth. His culture, his belief system is human.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am.”

  “No. But thank you.” I pushed myself out of the chair.

  “If you need me…” He didn’t rise but turned his hand out toward me.

  I grasped his hand, held it tightly for a moment. “Thanks, Guth.”

  “It’s what I’m here for, Bergie.”

  Ten years just slipped by in a second. We were back to being Captain Guthrie and Lieutenant Bergren. The divorce, the pain, was gone. Only the very deep friendship remained.

  I hung on to that realization as I headed out into the corridor, amazed at how calm I could feel when the rest of my life was once again spinning out of control.

  The bed sheets rustled.

  Ky’sara-mine. Sully’s voice, deep and seductive.

  Sully’s body, warm, behind mine but skin blazing where we touched. Strong lean fingers stroking, exploring, turning nipples into hard, sensitive buds. Then moving downward, slick over the hip and between my thighs, going liquid, heat clenching.

  My breath stuttered.

  His was a low, sultry growl.

  His mouth hot against my neck, teeth nipping. Lower, one finger’s featherlight electric touch sending pleasure pulsing in relentless waves.

  “Oh!” My solitary word was half-breath, half-prayer. All praise.

  Heat flared, surging, no longer bound by skin. His power and mine merging, a dance of ecstasy beyond description, almost beyond words. Only sighs, moans, and gasps of pleasure.

  I felt him feeling me, feeling me feeling him. It was delirious, it was delicious. I opened my eyes. Silver stars danced and lightning flowed through infinite shades of dark.

  Ky’sara-mine.

  I ran my hands over his chest, down the taut muscles of his stomach, following the path of lightning, seeking the source of heat. I caressed with my fingers, I teased with my mouth and tongue. Now delirious and delicious had no beginning or ending, and he was shuddering, barely able to keep control, but this was my turn, my time, and this Kyi would beg or die.

  From desire.

  A deep, knowing chuckle ended in a gasp, a groan. Strong, lean fingers reached for me, twining into my hair.

  When he lost control, so would I, so I kept him on the edge, keeping me on the edge and not knowing, moment to moment, whose fingers and tongue worked so enticingly on that throbbing, quivering…

  But no. This was my turn, my time, and this Kyi would beg or die.

  From desire.

  Chasidah, please!

  Um, okay. Now would be good.

  He—

  God, yes, now

  —plunged inside me, would be very throbbing, giving, taking—very good. pleasure roaring through our veins. Passion exploding, every sensitive inch of flesh on overload, desire’s floodgates bursting wide.

  And we clung to each other, hot, sweaty, panting.

  Delirious. Delicious. Sated.

  Then soft, heated kisses over my cheeks, my eyelids, my nose, my mouth.

  Chasidah. Angel-mine. All that I am is yours.

  Dorsie was baking two srorfralak pies. Verno was working solo when I came on the bridge, still tingling from Sully’s kisses. I took the chair, checked ship’s status. Kyi gate or not, this was a jumpspace I was familiar with. So was the Karn. I guess Stolorths had no more fondness for slippery space than humans did.

  Verno was chatting with Ren on intraship. Ren was peeling vegetables again.

  Takas loved the peelings almost as much as the pie.

  “Go,” I told Verno. “It’ll get done twice as fast with your help and then I won’t have to sit here listening to your stomach growl.”

  “You sure, Captain Chasidah?”

  “Assist Ren and Dorsie. That’s an order.”

  He grinned toothily and hurried off.

  I shifted all controls to the pilot’s chair and leaned back, straps loose across my chest.

  Ship’s internal sensor showed Marsh in the gym. Philip was still sleeping—not surprising, considering he’d worked late with Sully and Marsh on the rifle he’d pilfered. The Kyi-killer, we’d come to call it. Sully and Del were off-sensor, as usual, and were hopefully devising a thousand ways to stop Tage and Burke.

  I’d run out of ideas.

  Other than this morning, when I’d won against Sully.

  Not that our lovemaking was a battle—far from it. And Sully was never controlling in bed. But he had an obvious advantage. This morning, however, was all mine. I didn’t do anything terribly different than I had before. It was my intent against his intent that changed.

  Philip’s warnings had given me the idea. So had Del’s. A ky’sara was not without power.

  A familiar databox popped on my screen. Well, Verno’s really. But everything was on my console right now. Things to do while in jump. Routine maintenance and systems’ checks. I’d done these thousands of times on various ships in Fleet.

  I initiated what the Karn needed then pulled up the nav charts for that remote area on the A-B that housed Dock Five. The one bastion of unruliness right on the edge of pristine Aldan. An abandoned mining raft converted to a way station decades ago, and augmented with more mining rafts and odd appendages. It was an ugly thing, barely legal. But it paid its fees to the Empire so there was no reason to shut it down.

  Unless Tage chose to.

  There were a few smaller rafts within shouting distance of it. No-namers. Used for depot storage, mostly. A few rafthkra dealers had tried to use one as a dispensary several years back, but Fleet took exception to it. They closed shop very quickly.

  Philip had been part of that operation. I remembered hearing his stories, weeks later, when I was back from patrol in Calth and he had a few days’ liberty. He got all the action. I was relegated to playing hide-and-seek with some mercenary named Sullivan who seemed to get the most inane pleasure from teasing me by edging his ship into Fleet-restricted zones. Just barely.

  The bridge’s hatchlock thumped softly closed behind me.

  Frowning, I twisted in my seat. We never sealed the bridge except for—

  Del. All in black, like Sully always wore. Thermal shirt, dark pants but no long coat. I hadn’t seen that coat since the first day he came on board. Except
for that time in the Kyi.

  He stepped toward me with an easy grace, his long silvery-blue hair pulled back in a braid.

  “Problems?” I asked him.

  He smiled and rested his hand on the back of my chair. I forced myself not to edge away but I was very aware of the pressure of my Stinger at my thigh. Which meant, very likely, so was he.

  “Why do you equate me with problems, Chasidah? Perhaps I just crave the pleasure of your company.”

  “Where’s Sully?”

  “Ah, Gabriel is an excellent student. I could boast and say I’m an excellent guri, but the truth is, he is responsible for his success.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  “Your helping Sully means a lot to him,” I said, keeping all traces of emotion out of my voice, keeping my rattling duro-hards as still as I could. The man was reading me, sensing me. I couldn’t feel it but I had no doubt.

  “We were speaking of his appreciation earlier.” His eyes were hooded. He slid his arm around the back of my chair, leaning closer.

  This time I did edge away. “If there’s something you want to talk to me about, I suggest you take a seat.”

  A whisper of heat stroked my neck then ran down my breasts.

  I unhooked the safety strap with a jerk and pushed myself out of the chair. The Grizni on my wrist tingled. My pistol was one move away. “You’re overstepping your bounds, Regarth,” I said firmly. “I don’t find your company pleasurable.”

  He leaned both forearms on the back of the chair, clasped his six-fingered hands together, and looked at me, his smile wistful. “It’s just culture and conditioning, lover. It has no real meaning. Not when I have worlds of delight to show you.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “You love Gabriel. I understand that. And he loves you, angel. Oh, how he does. You’re his greatest strength, his consummate addiction. But I can teach you ways to love him more. Make him love you more.”

  “The answer is no. It will be no tomorrow, no a week from now, and no a month from now. A year from now. The matter is now closed. If you raise it again, I will lock you in the brig.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Is the bed in there big enough for two?”

  “Get off my bridge, Regarth. That’s an order.”