Unchained

by C. J. Barry

  Grey had promised her a taste of Vaasa's night life. She was ready. More than ready, eager, daring, and invincible. So this was what freedom felt like.

  * * * *

  Cidra found them in the kitchen, the conversation loud and lively. The sound of her heeled shoes on the stone kitchen floor announced her entry, calling the conversation to an abrupt halt. All three stared at her with an amusing variety of expressions.

  Rosa nodded approvingly. Barrios’ mouth gaped wide open. Grey's reaction was more difficult to define. Somewhere, she thought, between fire and ice.

  It was Barrios who broke the silence, a shameless smile spreading across his face. “Stars above. Cidra, you look great.” He turned to Grey and slapped him on the back. “Stone, old buddy, you better wear that laser pistol tonight."

  With fierce deliberation, Grey skimmed from her long legs to the short skirt of the slight dress that molded into every curve to her hair pulled back loosely with stray tresses spiraling over her bare shoulders.

  The eyes that met Cidra's were dark and unwavering. “I was just thinking the same thing."

  * * * *

  He didn't wear his laser pistol. Instead, he contented himself with being her shadow.

  It wasn't easy. The lecherous glances he fended off were nothing compared to the ones he gave her himself. As his eyes swept over her, he groaned silently. This sudden change in her wardrobe was going to be the death of him. No matter how he looked at it, this little outing had ‘frustration’ written all over it.

  They walked the main avenue, Cidra's arm linked in Grey's, with Barrios and Rosa bickering endlessly behind them. Thendara Market teamed with life, entertainment and lovers. Throngs of people milled around the streets and music reverberated between the buildings. A festival of banners and colored lights swung over the pedestrian streets adding magic to the carnival atmosphere. Brilliant images flashed and fluttered in the night breeze, lending a touch of fantasy.

  Cidra felt light as air. Grey hadn't let her out of his sight since they arrived, and she was intensely aware of the dangerous looks he gave her. It didn't faze her. Tonight she was feeling reckless. Maybe it was the dress. Maybe it was the energy of the night life. Maybe it was the taste of freedom. Whatever the reason, tonight was hers. She wanted all that it promised.

  She glanced up into the night sky at the grand smattering of stars. A curious grid hanging high between the rooftops of the buildings and over the alleyways caught her eye. As they continued walking past the next building, a similar grid spanned the subsequent alley.

  Cidra pointed to it and asked Grey, “What are those?"

  He glanced up to where she indicated. “The emergency response system. The city is covered with them, like a net."

  He gave her an indulgent smile. “This may come as a shock to you, but Vaasa isn't perfect. We get our fair share of quakes, some of them big. When a quake or some other disaster strikes, the grid lights flood the alleys and streets, a siren kicks on and usually, all hell breaks loose. By design, they're solar-powered, independent from the main power system. Keeps the city out of the dark and the looting down."

  He moved closer and whispered covertly in her ear. “But I'll tell you a secret. I watched city maintenance test them one day. You can trigger a grid activation by pressing a button in the center of the first gridhead.” He pointed up at the nearest gridhead. Cidra could see it was larger and had a slightly different shape than the others.

  "I'll bet you could hit it with a long pole.” He winked at her. “It's a great show.” He grinned like a little boy plotting a practical joke.

  She laughed, pulling him along. “Maybe some other time. I just got here. I don't want to meet the local authorities tonight."

  A crowd gathered around the next corner, surrounding an impromptu three-piece band. All the music sounded alien to Cidra, in more ways than one. Avion discouraged music of any kind, in keeping with their ‘proper’ image. Now she knew why. It made you sway, it made you move, took over your body and freed your spirit. How positively uncultured.

  Every corner brought a new sound, a new tempo. Slow and sensual, lively and erotic. It all felt good. Cidra let herself move with the primal beats, matching the audience's energy. More than once, she brushed against Grey, noting he stilled every time. After one particularly heavy bump, he caught her arm and guided them to a nearby crowded establishment.

  An eerie blue light permeated the saloon, adding a mystic quality to the wide variety of clientele and bizarre decor. A sturdy gentleman behind the bar smiled and nodded at them. Grey acknowledged the greeting and ushered them to an open booth, slipping in next to Cidra and throwing an arm over her shoulders. Barrios and Rosa wiggled into the bench across from them.

  Rosa looked at Barrios suspiciously. “The saloon keeper knows you already. What do you have to say for yourself?"

  "Madam, be thankful none of those lovely street molls know me already,” he said indignantly, his eyes twinkling. Rosa gave him a swift swat on the arm.

  Grey ordered drinks from a voluptuous Saurelian server who effectively ignored everyone else. Her pale green skin shone iridescent in the saloon's blue light.

  Cidra watched the girl move a little too close and smile a little too brightly. She thought of Mora and groaned. It was the same feeling she had when Mora spoke of Grey. Jealousy? She shook it off.

  Grey smiled back at the girl. He must have said something funny, because she laughed a little too loud. Cidra fumed. Okay, it was jealousy. But it didn't mean anything.

  As if catching her thoughts, he turned to her, a sexy smile on his lips. “Having fun?"

  Cidra was still working on the jealousy issue and simply stared at him. Even with the noise and the smoke, she could smell him, feel his power. She wanted him in a way she'd never wanted any man. She just had no clue what to do about it.

  She eyed him speculatively. “Yes. Are you?” His answer to her question suddenly became very important.

  "Don't I look it?” He gave her a puzzled look. Not waiting for a reply, he shifted with a groan. The next sentence he whispered in her ear. “But I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from rubbing that beautiful body of yours against me. I'm a man, not a saint."

  She turned quickly to look at him and caught her breath with one look at the shimmering hunger in his eyes.

  "Sorry,” she apologized quickly but it was not what she wanted to say. She wondered what he would do if she told him what she really wanted.

  Drinks appeared, along with a not so subtle come hither look from the server to Grey. He handled her firmly, but kindly, and she walked away with a smile.

  The conversation wandered through a litany of stories and recollections from everyone, except Cidra. It struck her for the umpteenth time what a sheltered life she'd led or been forced to lead. It certainly hadn't been by choice. All those years missed, locked away.

  The evening sped along filled with laughter and friendly chatter until Rosa and Barrios feigned fatigue and departed.

  A quartet started playing and the dance area filled up with a mélange of races cast in a surreal haze of blue light. Cidra could identify each species from her Kin-sha studies, but reality proved far more fascinating. With delight, she watched the fantastic flow of skin colors, features and attire bobbing and weaving to the beat.

  The band shifted smoothly into a slow, wicked, sizzling number. The audience heated up in response. The patrons closed ranks, bodies rocking in unison. The female singer's high, breathy voice plunged the room into a lusty cadence.

  The rhythm tugged at Cidra, drawing her into the dance. She didn't hear the words, only felt the answering call in her body. For the first time all night, Cidra felt awkward. Desire finally outweighed embarrassment.

  "Grey?"

  He turned sharply. The strange tone of her voice caught his attention more than his name.

  Her eyes were locked on the dancers on the floor, her face drawn. “Would you show me how to dance?"

  He knew
. She didn't have to say anything else. Another experience she'd missed. He closed his eyes and checked his level of self-control. It was as low as it had been all night. He checked the sensual atmosphere on the floor, hot and steamy. This was probably not the wisest move, but he couldn't bring himself to refuse her.

  He rose and held out a hand to her. The sweet look of relief and gratitude she gave him more than made up for any discomfort he was about to endure on the dance floor.

  Once on the floor, he pulled her to him, unobtrusively placing her hands correctly and coaxing her into smooth steps. She closed her eyes to the world and let him lead, telling her what to do with subtle prompts with his body.

  It didn't take long to fall into the intoxicating dance. It swept over her in a hot wave of vibration straight to her core. She could feel the strong muscles under his shirt, warm breath on her neck, the incredible heat of his arms. She pressed the length of her body to his, absorbing the fluid flow of male strength. He hissed in her ear. His body felt so strong and tight, unyielding against her softness. So hard. Everywhere. His arms, his chest, his stomach, his...

  Her eyes flew open. She swallowed, stunned by the raw hunger in his face.

  "Don't look so surprised. I told you I was no saint,” he growled softly.

  Cidra gazed into his silver eyes and gave into that impulse when your heart tells your better judgment, your conscience and your common sense to get lost. She stroked his jaw with her fingertips and said quietly, “I never said I wanted a saint."

  That stopped him cold, his eyes narrowed. Was that an invitation? Her face exhibited equal parts of doubt and desire. She needed to understand there would be no turning back. He knew he didn't possess that amount of restraint, not with her, not tonight. The effort would kill him. This wasn't going to be soft hugs and gentle cuddling. This wasn't going to be sweet and gentle. What he had in mind was more of a feeding frenzy. He knew once he started, he would never be able to stop.

  The big question remained. Did she feel the same way? He grinned. Only one way to find out.

  He lowered his mouth to hers, the kiss sizzling as hot and heavy as he could deliver it. His tongue flickered by and boldly delved deep into the recesses of her sweet, moist mouth. Deeper, harder, hotter.

  In a flash, he found himself too close to the edge.

  Strong arms gripped her like metal bands, subtle savagery underlying the sensual assault. The world around her vanished in surging stages as she clung to him. He became her ecstasy and terror at once, heightening, yet devastating her senses. It made his sudden, unsteady withdrawal nearly painful.

  "I want you like that.” His words labored in her ear. He pulled away just enough for his eyes to burn into her, promising fire. They stood motionless, eyes locked, in the center of the writhing, swirling, sensual mass.

  Words refused to form on her lips. His primal intensity sent out alternating warning sirens and cheers throughout her system, all demanding equal time of her limited capacity to think straight.

  Grey's eyes narrowed. “It doesn't work unless you say it, too."

  It was then that better judgment, conscience, and common sense kicked back into full gear. Panic gripped her. Too much, too soon. He was too far ahead of her. She licked her lips nervously. “I'm not sure."

  Grey exhaled hard, closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead to her brow. He murmured, “Wrong answer, but we'll work on it. Either way, it's time to go home. Dance lessons are over for tonight."

  He released her then and pulled her off the dance floor.

  She raised her eyes to his, expecting anger. Instead, his eyes glittered under the lights at her, shrouded with concern and regret.

  Tears stung her eyes.

  "I need to visit the lav before we leave,” she said huskily and turned toward the rear of the saloon.

  Grey watched her retreat. He had glimpsed her uncertainty and embarrassment and silently cursed himself. He'd scared her. It showed in her eyes, in the way she'd tensed in his arms and the speed in which she closed herself up. He let his wild desire rise too close to the surface. It had surprised him before he could check it.

  Now she would need time. He needed time, too. And space, from her. If for no other reason than to restore his waning self-restraint. Clearly, he'd have to take it slow. He wouldn't scare her again. She wasn't ready. If he had any doubts of her innocence and inexperience, they were confirmed now.

  It shouldn't surprise him. With each passing hour, he realized just how sheltered Syrus had kept Cidra. She devoured each new encounter, never holding back and ready for more. She was well-educated and socially adept, but the rest, the very essence of life and living, had been forsaken. Syrus did what he had to, but it didn't make the thought of ten years of virtual imprisonment any easier to swallow.

  It came to him in a heartbeat that he wanted to be the one to show her what life had to offer. He wanted to be there when her eyes lit up and the flush of discovery swept over her. He wanted to hear the excitement in her voice and watch her grow with each new adventure. The very thought of another man revealing the wonders of the worlds to her made his blood run hot.

  Quite a feat, considering just how hot he was at the moment.

  The cold stab of a laser pistol in his back extinguished that heat in a flash. He instinctively reached for his own pistol. Emptiness greeted him.

  "Don't turn around.” A harsh voice behind him hissed. “Out the back door. And nothing stupid. I know you don't have a weapon."

  Grey clenched his jaw, his eyes surveying the room quickly. No familiar faces, no convenient diversions, no easy escape. The light brush of fabric against his back told him the pistol was hidden from view of any curious patrons. And as his assailant had accurately pointed out, he was unarmed. There wasn't a Kin-sha move faster than a laser shot. He'd have a better chance once they were in the alley. That is, unless his abductor had friends.

  With the pistol fitted snugly to his spine, he headed for the door. The last thing he needed was for Cidra to see him. Whatever this turned into, he preferred her as far away from it as possible.

  He'd owe her another apology for leaving her. The weapon shoved in his back reminded him that that was the least of his worries.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Cidra exited the lav feeling more in control, if not thoroughly confused, mortally embarrassed, and absolutely terrified. Running away was not her style. Neither was withdrawing an offer. She didn't want to consider what he thought of her now. It certainly wasn't the reason she found herself racing back to him. Her danger sense was screaming. One quick scan of the room confirmed her worst fear. No sign of Grey.

  The notion that he would abandon her flickered by with little impact. Of one thing she was certain, he hadn't left by choice. She glanced toward the front entrance. If not by choice, then discreetly as well. She spun around and rushed to the rear exit.

  The alley on the other side of the heavy door was empty, dark, and reeked of rotting food. Something scurried a few meters from her feet.

  Her danger sense peaked and drove her forward. She ran left, dodging the mass of containers upended and tossed recklessly along the length of the narrow alley. Another left turn and she stumbled out into main artery next to the bar and right into a big, warm body.

  "Whoa, little lady. Wouldn't want you to...” Rourke's eyes widened. A slow smile lit his face. “Cidra, right? Nice to see you again."

  Her wild eyes met his. His smile vanished.

  "What's wrong?” Suddenly alarmed, he shot a glance over her head towards the dark alley. “Where's Grey? Don't tell me he left you on your own."

  "He's in trouble.” She grabbed the front of Rourke's jacket so fiercely that he actually flinched. “Big trouble. Did you see him leave?"

  Rourke frowned. “No. How long ago?"

  "Minutes, I think. We have to find him. He didn't leave willingly.” Her voice bordered on desperation. She knew instinctively that every second counted.

  The shrill signal of her comm u
nit in her small bag cut through the tension. Her eyes met briefly with Rourke's before she fumbled frantically to locate it. As soon as she touched the control, voices and sounds came through the unit.

  "...should know, you can't hide from me, Stone. I figured sooner or later, you'd have to leave Calíbre and then I'd have you. It's really a shame you couldn't have died quietly in our little assault over Avion. I lost several of my best men in that Victor. You will have to pay for that. Your life will do for starters."

  There was a sickening thud, proceeded by Grey's pained grunt and winded retort. “Drop dead, Wex."

  "Tsk, tsk. I'm a reasonable man. I am willing to forgive your indiscretion. And it'll only cost you Calíbre. Legally, of course. Your crew is entirely too loyal for me to step in without your full support. All I really need is your verbal consent on the transfer card, and you can walk away."

  Cidra caught her breath and looked to Rourke. He glared at the comm unit and muttered through clenched teeth, “Sandor Wex."

  He pulled the comm unit from Cidra's hand, cut the connection and shoved the unit back into her hand. Cidra gasped. “What are you doing?"

  "Trust me. Hail Calíbre. Now,” he demanded.

  She did as he asked and Coon answered the summons. “Hi, Sugar. To what do I owe this unexpected and delightful pleasure."

  Cidra cut in. “Later, Coon. Grey's in trouble.” She passed the unit to Rourke. “All yours."

  Rourke palmed the comm unit and addressed Coon. “Wex waylaid him. Sounds like he brought some friends along and they're working him over pretty good. He's wearing a comm unit. I need a fix on his current location. Fast."

  Coon's swearing was accompanied by the sound of fingers tapping furiously. “His standard unit is here on Calíbre. He must be using his private unit. Hold on.” A few more taps. “Got it.” He came back triumphantly. “He's between Cutter and Junta Re about half way down the block."

  "Thanks, Coon.” Rourke grabbed Cidra and pulled her with him. “This way."