Iron Dominance

by Cari Silverwood

  “No?” He looked down at her again, bemused. Hard to believe she’d done all that. “Leave me, Dankyo. Take your men.”

  “Sir!”

  “Leave!”

  Dankyo came as close to glowering insubordination as Theo had ever seen. “Very well. Though sir might do well to recall what I said on the airship.”

  They left quietly.

  He went to the desk and perched half his weight on it, let his feet take the rest. His white linen shirt felt sticky against his skin; the gray trousers he’d worn for the high-altitude flight prickled him with heat. He wanted nothing more than to get changed, but he sat there and waited. Out of the two of them, Claire looked far worse. An abrasion darkened her temple. Her pajamas were ripped at the neck, and the back was spotted with blood.

  Though Harry’s words had roused a hope that he might salvage her life, a spark of anger held him back from making things too easy. Dankyo had a good point. How dangerous was she to him and his people?

  “Claire? Are you wounded? There’s blood on your back.”

  “No. Bruises only.”

  As she raised her head, the slow glide of the muscles of her neck made him imagine the taste of her skin. He saw himself sinking his teeth in there, at the soft juncture of neck and shoulder, the bitter taste of her sweat, warm against his tongue.

  Then the hurt on her face clawed at him.

  He sighed, slapped both hands flat on his thighs. “Why? What were you doing? Where were you going?”

  “Back to where I came from.” She spoke in a monotone.

  Incredulous, he leaned down and put his hand under her chin. “And you want to go back there? Because I thought it would be the very last place you’d go.”

  She moved her head, trying to get loose, and only succeeded in plastering more stray hair to her cheek. “No,” she croaked, pain stirring in those golden brown eyes. “But there’s nowhere else for me. For a frankenstruct.”

  He stroked his thumb across her lower lip, marveling at her softness. “Well then, why did you try to run? I had meant to find a place for you here.”

  “Lies. I overheard the guards. They said you were bringing back an interrogator. That he would take me away.”

  “No. Never. That is the lie. You heard gossip. I’m back. Do you see an interrogator?”

  With his hand on her, she couldn’t hide the tremor from him, couldn’t hide the flicker of hope in her eyes, though it quickly died away. She closed them.

  “If I could take back what I did, I would.”

  He murmured, “And if there was still a place for you?” Before she could answer, he threw in another, harder, question. “But first I need to know what you are. You’re not a common soldier. Are you some sort of bodyguard?”

  A long pause, and then she quietly said, “Yes. I am.”

  “A bodyguard. Hmm.”

  If a bodyguard, then perhaps her employer had been an important personage.

  “You’re really a bodyguard? I don’t want any more lies between us, Claire. And, why are you so fast? Even better, how are you so fast?”

  “I’m a bodyguard, but—” She shook her head.

  “What is it? I won’t think any less of you, but I need you to talk about this. Secrets are not an option, Claire.”

  She said nothing.

  “Give me something here. My security head is outside champing at the bit to get me to wash my hands of you! And frankly, Claire, I don’t want to do that. Talk to me.”

  She sighed, blinked up at him. “I…don’t know how. I guess it’s something to do with how they made me. The parts they used. I can only do it for a short while. We called it sharp time.”

  He exhaled in relief. Getting somewhere, finally. Seemed like the PME had more of a head start than anyone had thought. They were making frankenstructs with extraordinary abilities.

  “Sharp time? Fitting. Now tell me, how do I know I can trust you? Because that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it?”

  Ah, that got her attention. Claire wriggled, and he released her chin, then heaved himself to his feet. Briskly, he went around the desk and pulled out the top drawer, where he kept a ten-inch Tung steel knife and a six-shot revolver. He slid the knife from the sheath. “I can cut you loose, or not. Which is it to be?”

  As he walked to her, he watched her expression, wanting badly to see honesty there. He’d judged men all his life, and a woman was no different. Well, a little different. He followed the smooth curve of the pajama jacket where it cupped her breasts. With her hands tied at her back, her nipples pressed forward against the silk.

  “What am I to you?” The sheer earnestness of this reply jolted him. Her eyebrows tilted up, then back down, as if she struggled to control herself. “Am I a person or a thing?”

  “I could never think of you as a thing. You’re you. A human being. Why?”

  “Because…” Her voice cracked. “Because, if you make me a person, I swear to you, on anything you like, that you can trust me to the ends of the earth.” She hung her head, a curtain of blonde hair falling across her face, but not before Theo saw a tear spill from her eye and trickle down her face. “Besides, I never wanted to hurt you anyway.”

  Shaken, he put the knife on the carpet, not wanting to accidentally injure either of them. If that wasn’t the truth, he’d retire to the mountains and become a hermit.

  “Claire,” he murmured as he put his arms around her, holding her tight to stop the trembling. “I can’t make you a person. You’ve always been one. Now, sit still, love, while I cut the ropes.”

  This was going to be a minefield. People would need to know about Claire and the way the PME were creating them. How to do it without her getting hurt, though—that was the big question.

  Claire held still, her thoughts tumbling fractured through her mind while he sawed through the ropes. She’d given in to him then, without even trying to resist. Told him her deepest thoughts, and she didn’t really know what he wanted of her. But, oh, it felt good to trust someone, just like he wanted to trust her. Tears flowed down her face. She didn’t care if he saw.

  The sickness in her belly vanished when the last rope parted. Rope. That day with Inkline—She shuddered. With her limbs free, she tried to rise, only to find her feet had become numb weights.

  “Here.” Theo scooped her into his arms and took her to the leather sofa, then knelt and massaged her ankles. Amazed that he would do this, she barely noticed the fizz of pins and needles through her flesh. At last he stopped with his hands still surrounding her right ankle, a strange look on his face.

  She blushed and found herself fixed in place by his eyes, though she couldn’t say exactly why. The heat from her cheeks seemed to surface elsewhere, lower down. He released her leg and moved to sit beside her, the couch sinking under his weight. His arm slipped along the couch behind her. The solid length of his thigh against hers felt good. The aches of her body sank to a dull background. Temples drumming with each heartbeat, she turned to look up at Theo.

  “Perhaps, this is too soon?” he asked, moving in until his mouth and hers were less than an inch apart. “But you do owe me a kiss.”

  “I do?” she squeaked.

  He studied her. The balcony at breakfast had been secluded, but here, they were alone in a closed room. No one was going to walk in on them. She already knew she had trouble saying no to this man. The beats at her temples thudded louder.

  Wanting to see where this would lead, yet afraid to, she went to lean away, only to find his hand cradling the back of her head, holding her there. His grip tightened, and he kissed her, delicately as a butterfly landing on a flower at first, then pressing closer. He explored her mouth, caressing every part of it with tongue and lips. She answered with her own lips as if it were some deadly duel with weapons, until something, his thumb perhaps, circled her nipple through the silk. The myriad of blossoming pleasures, the ache in her loins, and the taste of his tongue—together these crumbled her defenses to nothing. She lay there, barely
able to respond, feeling herself slide down the couch until she lay beneath him, moaning and holding on to the solid muscles of his upper arms as if they were the only thing that could stop her drowning under the onslaught.

  Chapter Eight

  “Claire?”

  She opened one eye to find Theo looking down at her. Panting and unable to find a single word for her tongue to use, she lay there under him, held down by his heavy body. He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. This was like being in a cocoon. His thigh pressed in, spreading her legs. One of his arms nestled beneath her; the other was… Oh. She shut her eyes again. His other hand he’d inched under her top and run smooth and warm across her stomach. Fingers cupped her breast, then brushed over her nipple. When something hard rubbed along her mound, she couldn’t stop herself from straining upward until her bottom lifted off the couch. She wanted more of that feeling.

  “You like that.” He smiled and kept his thumb playing with her nipple. “And I thought you’d be too sore to do anything more than kiss.”

  Find some words, Claire. “I heal fast.” There were aches, but none worth cataloging. “This is more than kissing.”

  “A little more. Do you want me to stop? From what I’ve been told, you should be bruised in half a dozen places.”

  “No. Don’t stop.” Ah, if he stopped now, she’d surely die. “But…I’ve never had sex.” She waited, nervous, a bit afraid of what he might say.

  “You haven’t? You’re a virgin?” Theo chuckled. “But then, I don’t plan on having sex with you. I want to make love to you.” Leaning in closer, he licked her earlobe and murmured, “I want to use you all up until you’re limp. I want you on your knees begging me to lick you and fuck you. Most of all, I want to restrain your beautiful body with ropes, pin you to my wall, and do whatever I want to you.”

  Ropes? No. Though the rest—

  Held dumbstruck by a mix of excitement and fear she’d not known before, she stared back, mouth parted. An image came to her, of Theo standing over her, using his hands on her body, and more—those diagrams of sexual positions made real and multiplied by a thousand. Oh, yes, she remembered them, and how she’d experimented with her own fingers.

  But, being tied up with rope—she shuddered, remembering that winter’s day, three years ago. Being tied to a chair had been sinfully enjoyable…until Inkline got involved. She could handle most things but not that.

  “What are you thinking, Claire? I’ve scared you, have I?” He sighed. “Say something. I’ll go as slow as you want me to. Go only as far as you want to go.”

  She wriggled under him, a little desperately.

  “I think maybe—”

  His hand—she’d not been following what he did—his hand slipped beneath the untied waistband of her pants and between her legs. His finger slid along, around her aroused clitoris where it poked up, then farther, finding the wet lips of her vulva. He kissed her again, moving his tongue inside her mouth. She forgot her words—couldn’t think and feel this at the same time.

  “Where else can I taste?” he murmured.

  He kissed his way down her body, from the side of her neck to breast to stomach, then tugged her pants and underwear down to her knees. Only now, he positioned his legs until they gripped her outer thigh like a soft vise. She tried but couldn’t move either leg, for the other was wedged against the back of the couch. Then, bliss as he applied his wet, warm tongue to her clitoris. She forgot all about moving.

  She anchored her hands in his hair and pulled him to her. Fingers plied at her nether regions as he played her like some glorious instrument. She plastered herself to his mouth as close as she could get. Sobbing and moaning, she came near to breaking through to the stratosphere. The sucking and licking, the fingers inserted and thrusting in her moist flesh, it sent her higher, higher, until at last her body filled to the top and rocked into gasping oblivion in a convulsion of ecstasy.

  When she opened her eyes this time, Theo loomed above.

  With his arms propped to either side of her, he simply said, voice deep and soothing, “That will do, for now. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He kissed her once. “I said too much, perhaps. Seeing you, beautiful, sprawled here like this, under me, is like drinking fine brandy—heady and exhilarating.”

  She tried to slow her breaths, felt a delicious shiver run from her spine to her center. His words amazed her. He’d called her beautiful? Then he turned her to face outward so he could squeeze into the space between her and the back of the lounge. They lay together, breathing as one body.

  With his arm over the top of her, his larger fingers wrapped round hers and holding her hand snuggled by her side, she looked out at the study through half-closed lids. She idly surveyed the immense desk and the airship-shaped table lamp, embellished with steel and gold, the plush blue carpet, the door opposite that she’d entered by…and the haphazard pile of cut rope. There was her hard, dangerous, friendless past, where she’d never known a man who didn’t aim to hurt her or use her for his own ends. Here, with Theo, was her future—a novel sensation. For once, she rested safe in the arms of another. Glorious. She let out a long, contented sigh.

  Nothing, she decided, would keep her from it.

  The clock on the wall ticked ponderously through the minutes, and she felt the slow slide of her consciousness into sleep.

  “Should have turned off the lamp,” Theo muttered. “It’s only three in the morning.”

  She wriggled a little closer to him, if that was possible, settling the hard length of him into a more interesting position against her bottom.

  “Do that again,” he growled, “and I may decide you’re well enough for further endeavors.”

  For a threat, it was an enticing one. She had an inkling Theo wouldn’t let her stay a virgin for much longer. Oh my.

  “Would you like to talk?” He kissed her nape.

  Would she? She brought his hand up till it was before her nose. Playing with his fingers, she tried to organize her thoughts.

  He drew his index finger down her nose to the tip, then traced across her lips. The scent of her body lingered on his skin.

  “Well?” he asked. “What are you thinking?”

  Fear nibbled at her, swirling murky tendrils through her stomach—like a monster hiding below the surface, waiting to lunge at the smallest sign of weakness. Theo was a person, a human—something she wanted to be, yet would she ever really believe herself one? What he’d done for her, being so gentle, so loving, and trusting her against Dankyo’s advice to the contrary, when he didn’t have to risk himself…it seemed so far above what he had to do. He could have raped her. Could have left her tied up and done whatever he wanted to…but he hadn’t. She turned her face into the upholstery and felt Theo gently twine her hair around her ear.

  He could have thrown her to the dogs. The undercurrent of gossip said such things sometimes happened.

  “What’s wrong?” Theo tugged on her hair.

  “Nothing.”

  Right now, everything was so wonderful, yet how well did she know him? One misstep and perhaps he might throw her to the dogs, or to Dankyo. She walked a tightrope over a chasm that went straight to hell.

  But she liked it here. She liked Theo, and, oh, what he conjured from her body, she liked that too. This was the man she would have wished for, if she’d ever dreamed of rescue. Her notion of traveling to the Brito-Gallic League in disguise, hoping she could survive there—a half-baked fantasy, a dream. Here was real.

  Yet, already, she’d lied to him, saying she was a bodyguard. If she told him they’d trained her to kill, it might turn him against her. No. She could never tell him. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and choked out the words, “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to talk about things. I can’t!” Though she strained to stop herself, her body shook.

  “Shh. You don’t have to talk. Oh, Claire, whatever is wrong, I’m sure I can help you fix it.”

  Which, of course, only made things worse.


  “Come.” He heaved himself off the lounge and hauled her up after him. “This couch is far too uncomfortable.” He tucked his arm around her. “We’ll go to my bedroom.”

  That set her heart pitter-pattering all over again. Her untied pants threatened to tumble to her ankles.

  “Wait.” She secured them with a bow. Theo took her hand, squeezed it.

  When he reached for the doorknob and turned it, she tensed. Outside would be others, people who would look at her and wonder what had gone on in this room. Though she’d rather face swords and bullets, she squared her shoulders. Let them wonder.

  Theo never wavered. Either side of the door were two guards, and down the hallway sitting on a timber bench beneath a triptych of oil paintings were Dankyo and two more guards armed with repeater gauss guns. They all leaped to attention. Did Dankyo never sleep?

  “Sir!” He stalked toward them, his black stare flicking from her to where Theo draped his arm around her and back to Theo. “Is this advis—”

  “Yes. It is,” interjected Theo.

  Dankyo slowed then stopped a yard away. His hand went to his belt; he drew an inch of his sword from the scabbard and bowed slightly. “Perhaps sir would like my resignation? I no longer feel I am able to fulfill my duties regarding your safety.”

  “No.” Theo’s single word crackled with menace. “I do not wish your resignation, Dankyo. I wish your compliance with my orders.”

  His eyes on Theo despite the bow, he blinked for a moment or two, then straightened. Dankyo slid the sword back into the scabbard. “Of course. Sir. I always have your safety and best interests at heart. I apologize absolutely for my behavior if it offended you.”

  “Thank you. Claire is not your enemy, Dankyo. Is that clear?”

  “Yes. It is clear. Sir.”

  “Good. Go to bed, Dankyo. These two guards only for my door.”

  But even she could see the reluctance in how Dankyo responded. And when Theo turned and headed down the corridor, she watched the glitter of hate reappear in Dankyo’s eyes. With her hand held by Theo, she had no choice but to follow, though it felt as if someone aimed a rifle at her back, so vehement was Dankyo’s gaze.