by Dani Worth
“No.”
She touched the screen. Colorful tattoos covered both arms. “I do. I do know you, but I can’t remember where. I’m Vala. Is my name familiar?” She didn’t wait for me to answer, turning to gesture at someone behind her. “Bastian, come here. Does she look familiar?”
Long, auburn hair filled the screen before the young man swung it back off his face. He immediately smiled when he saw me.
I sucked in a deep breath, stared, unable to believe what I was seeing. There he was, beautiful and breathing—very, very much not dead. My heart began to race and I’m sure I looked at him like he was the most wonderful thing I’d ever seen. Because he was. “You’re alive!” I laughed, the bubble of instant joy spilling up out of my throat and making Anders step up next to me. “You’re really alive. I was told you’d been killed.”
“Siri.” He leaned forward. “You got away from him.”
I nodded, hot tears pricking the backs of my eyes hard enough to make me close them briefly. “I was rescued by the two humans that fly this ship.”
The Gwinarian woman grinned. “Rescued by space pirates. That’s a new one. Did they tell you how they kidnapped me and this gorgeous young one?”
“I don’t think they’re really pirates. We haven’t stopped to rob anyone.” I frowned, thinking about the pirates I’d read about in Clay’s adventure books. I turned to Clay. “You kidnapped Bastian?”
“Long story, sweetheart.” Clay stroked his hand over my hair, surprising him, and by the silence, everyone else in the room and on the screen. I glanced to find Lia’s mouth open.
Bastian moved on the screen, pulling me back to him. He had that smile on his face I knew well, the one he’d used when he was trying to reassure me that he would be okay. One he’d pulled out when my tears grew too much for him. I had stopped crying for me years before, but the tears had returned for him. Without warning, images of his torture came back. I blinked hard to try and hold back the tears and reached out to place my palm on the screen.
He did the same, staring hard at me as if he was trying to assess how I really was and some of what I was remembering must have shown on my face because he slowly shook his head. “Can you let it go?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered, my chest so tight I was sure I would keel over any second. I closed my eyes, desperate for the horrible memories to stop. I’d been forced to watch his torture every day and only when I was really, really good was I allowed to visit Bastian afterward, to tend his wounds and sneak him extra food paste from my portions. My hand started to shake.
Clay made a strangled noise, swept me out of the chair, sat and plopped me back into his lap. Startled, I held on before I fell and met concerned blue eyes that told me in no uncertain terms that he planned to replace my memories with new ones.
“Well, I can see things have grown interesting on the ship. Guess Jacks wasn’t the only one who needed sexing up.” Vala’s tone was full of humor, but her arm had gone around Bastian.
Bastian still had his hand pressed to the screen and I turned, offered him a tremulous smile. “Are you on Kithra, Bastian?”
He tucked long strands of hair behind his ear, then shook his head. “No, but I’m working on getting there. Are they taking you home?”
I nodded, then caught both Lia and Speero staring at Clay and me in shock. I tried wiggling so Clay would let me go, but he only frowned and held me closer. I chuckled. Couldn’t help it. “Some scary pirate you are.”
“They’re more like wannabees,” Vala supplied. She let go of Bastian, crossed her arms, and my gaze was drawn to the colorful tattoos covering them, recognizing images from a homeworld I hadn’t seen since I was a child. She glanced down, the corner of her mouth tilting up. “Like them?”
“They’re so familiar.” I followed the swirled black lines that tied the designs together. A fuzzy memory took shape in my mind. A sign with swirling black lines, a word taking shape. “Leviathan.”
Her arms uncrossed as she stepped close to the screen. “What did you say?”
Confusion clouded my mind and I shook my head. “I don’t know. The designs on your arms made me think of something, but I can’t remember it right. Your tattoos are beautiful, so thinking of a monster makes little sense.”
“Oh fucking suns,” she breathed, face going pale.
Bastian cupped her cheek, turning her face to his. He murmured softly, and the way they looked at each other chased away the faint alarm I’d felt when I’d looked at those black designs. The young man Para Lashin had tortured was not only alive, but he’d found love. Hope uncurled and filled my chest. He’d spent years in captivity and I’d seen some of the horrific things done to him—things that still filled my nightmares. If he could get past it, could love, then so could I. I turned to find Anders studying the way the captain held me.
He must have seen something in my face because he slowly narrowed his eyes before coming to squat next to our chair. He reached up to capture my chin, kept my gaze locked with his. “The way you’re looking at me—gods, it’s tearing up my gut. What is it?”
I ran my thumb over his lower lip, smiled when he lightly nipped the end.
“Hey! Clay. Anders.”
It took effort for him to pull his gaze from me to look at the screen where the pretty Gwinarian sat shaking. “What?”
“I have to do something. It’s important. Where are you two headed now? That line on Crichton showed up again along with a few more instances of explosions.” She hugged herself, face still alarmingly pale. Another man came onscreen and my mouth fell open. He looked so much like Clay. He wrapped arms around Bastian, nuzzling into his neck as he smiled at the Gwinarian woman. His smile faltered when he took in her expression and he let go of Bastian to touch her shoulder, talking softly so we couldn’t hear. She shook her head, hugged herself harder, then looked back at us.
Anders was now frowning at the screen.
“There’s something important. Very important—” She broke off. “Where are you taking her?”
“Siri?” Anders asked.
“Is that your name?” She looked at me. “Siri? Siri what?”
I shook my head. “It’s just Siri. I no longer remember my name, nor my family.”
Anders and I sat across from each other in the empty galley. I’d picked a plate of cheeses again after making sure there was plenty left for the captain. Anders chose some sort of stew. He mostly stirred it, taking bites every few seconds. I watched him, my heart aching. He’d been more somber the last couple of days. Quiet, with a look in his eyes that made my stomach hurt. Whatever I’d seen pass over his face when the captain had touched his shoulder the day Kithra news had taken over all media seemed to have stayed. I’d searched him out this morning, talked him into eating with me. He was still in his sleep pants—this pair black. He’d paired it with a gray T-shirt.
The day before, I’d walked to the observation deck only to stop in the passageway. The door had been open only a foot, and inside, Anders had sat against the window, arms folded across his chest. He’d stared out at the stars and his expression had broken my heart. Drawn, with this bleakness to his eyes that made me want to set things right somehow.
I thought of him that day in his bunkroom, when he’d let me—no, helped me—find pleasure. He’d looked at me on his lap, moved my hips, made sure I got everything I needed and he hadn’t taken pleasure of his own.
Anders was a good man.
“Will you tell me what happened between you and the captain?”
He dropped his spoon in the bowl and looked up at me. “It’s not one of those great stories. It was nothing more than me screwing up.”
“What did you do?”
He let out a long, slow breath, leaned back in the booth and stretched one arm across the back. “I gave up a moment too soon. After years of pursuing the man and finally getting him to pay attention—when men aren’t his usual choice—I got mad, fed up and went elsewhere. Cheating isn’t something Claybo
urne can deal with.”
“So you were together and you cheated on him?” I frowned. “Why would you do that?”
“Stupidity, an extraordinary amount of Toquarian ale, and a broken heart.”
“You said you’ve been in love with him a long time.”
He lowered his arm, leaned forward and rubbed his forehead. He nodded. “Not sure I can explain it. We’ve been friends longer than I can remember and sometime in there, I began to love him. There’s no one like him. I was a teenager and a young man, chasing every woman I could, and all of a sudden all I could think about was my best friend.”
“Did you tell him?”
He nodded. “Eventually. For a long time, I slept with a lot of people—women and men. Turns out I like both.”
“That’s why he called you a slut. It’s a term for someone who has a lot of sex with different people, right?” Yes, I’d looked it up.
When his eyebrows met, I regretted sharing that. “Guess he has the right to call me that.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t think he meant it.”
His mouth twisted. “He did. Clay doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean. And truthfully, I was a slut for a long time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That I was a slut? Before your time, sweetheart, and not worth your worry. I was searching for something in new places, hoping to find what I already felt with someone who didn’t return my feelings.”
“What do you want from him, Anders?”
“What do I want from Claybourne? Good question.” He grinned, leaned forward to put both arms on the table. “Sometimes, I want to throw him down onto all fours, clench my fingers in that silky black hair, and hump him like some kind of animal.”
The flush that hit my cheeks didn’t creep up from my neck; it sprang fully formed and hot. With my skin, there was no hiding it.
He eyed my cheeks, ran his gaze down my neck to my chest. The naughty grin on Anders’s face made me squirm. “You like that. Imagined it, did you?” Those eyes narrowed.
Under the table, I clenched my knees together because that heat had sprung all over, starting a throb between my legs that made me want to do something about it. Shock widened my eyes as I stared at Anders.
“Fuck, Siri.” He groaned, scrubbed his hands over his face before leaning back and closing his eyes. “The way you’re looking at me. You gotta stop, sweetheart. Scurry off.”
Clay stepped around the corner and came to a halt next to the booth. “Anders, what the hell did you say to get those amber eyes so huge?”
Anders smirked, but I saw the pain that lurked behind that confident veneer as he lowered his gaze to look at the hand he wrapped around a tube of Toquerian ale. “Nosy fucker. You’ll have to hear it from Siri.” Anders’s green eyes flicked back up to me, a challenge blazing through that hint of pain that tugged at my heart.
He didn’t think I would say it. Probably didn’t think I could say it. I cupped my hand between my legs as if I could hold back the desire raging through me and turning the crotch of my pants wet. The table hid exactly what I was doing, but they could see my arm move. Both men zeroed in on the movement. Anders held his breath.
Licking my lips, I gave up trying to stop the blush that probably threw all my freckles into stark relief and looked right at the captain. “He said he wants to throw you down on all fours, clench his hands in your hair and hump you like an animal.”
Clay staggered back, his spine hitting the side of the doorway.
Like my flush, his hard-on sprang up fully formed. It stretched the material of those tight pants, pulling it taut around muscled thighs that showed a kind of definition that made my mouth go dry.
The low chuckle that floated across the table from Anders made me shiver. “You got a naughty spark in you, eh?”
My gaze went from Anders to the speechless Clay who was still using the wall to hold himself up. “Someday soon, that part of me is going to be bigger than a spark and you know what I want then, Anders? I want to see what I just said to the captain.”
Anders swallowed, his fingers so tight on the tube I couldn’t believe it didn’t cave in. “And will you touch yourself while watching? Let us watch you?”
The shudder that ripped down my back made me clench my hand tighter.
“She’s touching herself now, Anders,” Clay breathed. “I can see those long, slender fingers digging in from here.” He groaned.
“Is that true, sweetheart? Are you touching yourself right now?”
“It’s not like that,” I whispered because I could barely force air past my lips. Held tight in the grip of something that made me feel like a different person, a braver person, a sexy person, I couldn’t force myself to move my hand. It was like I was afraid my female parts were going to suddenly break free and attack. The thought was so random, so crazy, all that wound-up tension released in a laugh that startled both men.
“Good gods, Siri. You should smile all the time.” Anders grinned. “Smile and finger yourself at my table.”
Finally able to move my hand, I lifted it and reached for my tube of ale. When Clay suddenly rushed forward and grabbed my wrist, I flinched, couldn’t help it. “What?”
He only lifted my hand to his face and buried his nose against my fingers.
“Fuck, Claybourne,” Anders groaned, dropped his arms on the table and laid his head facedown on them. “I’m never getting rid of this hard-on. Never.” His words were muttered in the hollow of his arms.
My heart beat so hard, it hurt. “Clay?”
“Yeah,” he breathed, still holding my fingers to his face.
“Have you ever been with a man?”
Anders lifted his head, waited for Clay’s answer.
“No, but I came close. I usually prefer women.”
“You came close. Was it Anders?”
Clay cradled my hand to his cheek, but his blue eyes turned down toward Anders. “We were working together,” Clay finally said, his voice low. “He flirted incessantly, drove me nuts.” He cleared his throat. “I pretended he didn’t affect me, but he did.”
Anders sat up, not once removing his gaze from Clay.
“I finally caved, but it was too late. Went to him, went to finally see if what I felt was real and walked in on him with three women.”
“Three?” I choked.
Clay nodded. “Three. That bed was a tangle of long legs and breasts with a big, grinning Anders in the middle.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
“So, you can smile about it now,” I asked.
“Yeah, but then I couldn’t.” He stopped talking, swallowed so hard, his throat moved. “Anders, I—”
“Captain, there you are!” Lia strolled into the room, Speero on her heels.
He let go of my hand. I wanted to scream at her for her bad timing and grouchy words flowed up into my throat only to stop in a painful lump.
“Hey, Caps,” Speero said as he strolled to the simulator. “Damn, I’m starving.”
Lia snorted. “Better not program any meat pies.”
“Why not? It’s not like I’m going to get lucky on Burga One. We’ll be there in two days.”
“It’s a small ship, Speero.”
His strange orange stripe of hair bobbed as he laughed.
Two days until we reached the planet that supposedly held the man responsible for destroying my home. And it was possible the man who’d tortured me was there as well. My hands shook and I dropped them into my lap. That was a lot sooner than I expected.
Clay still stared at Anders, but he held his hand out to me. “Sullivan, Siri and I have a few things to discuss in my quarters. Lia, spread the word. Don’t bother us unless there’s an emergency.”
Lia’s mouth fell open before she closed it with a snap.
“Sure thing, Captain.” Speero, obviously clueless, carried his tray of food to another booth. “Namito is going to fly for a time. There’s smooth sailing between here and B-One, so he’ll be fine. I’ve gotta get some
sleep.”
I barely paid attention to Speero and Lia. I could only stare at Clay’s hand, my stomach in knots.
What did they expect of me?
“It’s okay, Siri,” Clay whispered as he leaned closer so only Anders and I could hear him. “Promise. I think it’s time Anders and I had a talk and I’d like you to be there.”
Chapter Eight
The door closed behind us with an audible click I felt deep in my stomach.
“Lights,” Clay barked out. The built-in lamps along parallel walls came on low. He must have them set to start that way. I could see why as I saw his room for the first time. The soft lighting allowed sight in the room to navigate the large bed taking up most of the space, but it also threw the window above his bed into prominence. His cabin was bigger than the others with that bed bolted into the far wall. I marveled at the idea of lying there and staring into space. A dark blue Dranellian blanket and white sheets were bunched messily at the end of the mattress. His vidscreen had been installed on a wall with built-in drawers and a door to what I assumed was his washroom.
Crossing my arms, I took in everything but the two men standing in front of me, staring at each other. The tense silence crept along the surface of my skin like it held an electric current. My fingers clenched on my arms.
“What is it you’re waiting for, Claybourne? Another apology?” Anders stood so still, his discomfort obvious in the clench of muscles. In his closed fists.
“No, I think you’ve done that enough.” Clay frowned, his own taut body proving his discomfort the same way—clenched thigh muscles visible in his close-fitting black pants, white knuckles as he tightened his hands. “Tell me why Lia said you were celibate.”
Even in the low lighting, I caught the faint red on Anders’s neck.
“You know Lia—full of shit.”
“She seemed pretty sincere to me. What I don’t understand is why when I’ve given you no indication that we would try again. Is this some effort to prove something to me?”
