Shadower
Page 15
"What do you want?" she asked again.
He flashed his devilish grin, exuding his usual arrogance. "Manners, manners. I can see I have my work cut out for me. I brought you the evening meal."
He stepped forward, she stepped back. "I'm not hungry," she insisted, just as her stomach rumbled.
Ebony brows rose. "Liar."
"Don't believe everything you hear, Travers," she retorted, irritated that her own body had betrayed her—again.
"I don't. But I already knew you were hungry and tired."
"How in the universe could you know that?"
"You're pale and have circles under your eyes. You looked like that after you stowed away on my ship for four cycles without food."
Janaye, her mentor, had made the same observations on occasion. But she knew Moriah much better than this arrogant man. Sabin was far too perceptive, a fact that made her distinctly uncomfortable.
His eyes never leaving her face, he leaned over and placed the tray on the bunk. "Why don't you sit down and eat?"
She finally looked at the tray. Next to the plate of amargrain and protein sticks sat a stunning scarlet Thermaplant in a crystal planter. The plants were so rare, she had seen them only twice in all her travels. "Where did this come from?" she asked in wonder, reaching down to touch the crystal pot.
"Intrepid's cultural center." Sabin tossed the package onto the bunk. Lifting the plant, he took her hand and curled her fingers around the cool crystal.
She stared at the vivid scarlet leaves. Thermaplants needed not only heat, but also the electromagnetic energy radiating from all living things, to survive. They seemed to thrive best on the energy emitted by humans. "It's beautiful," she murmured.
"It's for you."
Shocked, she tore her attention away from the lovely blooms and stared at him. "You're giving this to me?"
He watched her gravely. "It's yours."
She couldn't comprehend such an action. No one had ever given her a gift. "But—but why?"
"Because I acted like an idiot earlier today, and I want to say I'm sorry." Taking her other hand, he pressed it around the opposite side of the planter. "Do you know how to care for a Thermaplant?"
Gazing at the plant in fascination, she shook her head.
"The vendor who sold it to me said you must wrap your hands around it for several minutes in the morning and several minutes at night, although you can do it as often as you like. Your heat and energy will provide sustenance for the plant. It will reward you with its scent. Let's see if she's right."
Moriah clasped the crystal pot tightly, unable to believe Sabin had given the gift to her, or that he had again apologized. Would she ever understand him? She stood silently, willing her life force into the plant. The crystal pot began to glow, taking on a rosy hue. A moment later, an exquisite fragrance wafted from the plant's velvety leaves. Delighted, she inhaled deeply. She'd never owned anything this special. At a loss for what to say, she raised her eyes to him. "Thank you."
He took a step back, clearing his throat. "No big deal. Now eat."
Unprotesting, she slid onto the bunk. Carefully setting the plant on the tray, she picked up a protein stick. Sabin strode to the chair, eyeing the torn rhapha. He flicked it off and pulled the chair closer to her bunk. Sinking down with a tired sigh, he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"It's hot in here," he complained. "I need to check the climate controls again." He gestured toward the box he'd tossed onto her bed. "I replaced your rhapha."
She paused, a protein stick halfway to her mouth, ugly suspicions rearing. "Why?"
"I destroyed yours, so I owed you one."
All appetite fled. He'd had ulterior motives for his actions. His kindness was just a front, and should have set off alarms. She stared at the Thermaplant, bitterness pooling in her throat. "Then you're ordering me to wear the rhapha?"
"Wear what you wish." He gestured to the tray. "But I am ordering you to eat."
He had her totally confused again. Frustrated, she bit off the end of the protein stick. "Why are we departing so late?" she asked after chewing and swallowing.
"I went to purchase a few things, and then I searched for my ship mechanic. He seems to have left Intrepid rather suddenly."
"Mechanics move around a lot," she pointed out.
Sabin leaned back in the chair. "That's true. Radd probably got a lucrative offer he couldn't refuse. He's the best in the quadrant, so he's in demand."
Radd? Radd was Sabin's mechanic? The pieces fell into place. That's why Radd had looked so familiar. She'd seen him on Sabin's ship right after she was injured. It seemed pretty ironic that she had kidnapped Sabin's ship mechanic.
"So is he really the best mechanic in the quadrant?" she asked.
"The absolute best. Sure wish I could find him."
It pleased her to know she had kidnapped the right mechanic, at least. She took a bite of amargrain.
Sabin steepled his fingers and stared at them thoughtfully. "As much as I regret my behavior earlier, we still have to get some things straight. I'm still the captain of this ship. You will obey my orders."
They were back to that. She laid down her utensil. "I already gave my word on that, Captain."
"So you did. But in case you've forgotten, you broke our agreement by trying to injure me."
"I did not. I wasn't trying to hurt you when I tipped your chair over. Just expressing my opinion of your chauvinist demands."
"I'm not talking about the chair, although I still have a knot on the back of my head from that. I'm talking about that damn plug you took out of my leg." He rubbed his thigh with an injured air. "If you'd bitten any higher, I'd probably be talking in a falsetto right now. That would be a serious matter."
His light tone surprised her. She had expected him to be furious, to seek retribution. Testing his mood, she retorted, "I wouldn't think of that as a big deal."
"No? Tell you what, sweetheart. There are some women who would disagree with your assessment there."
"Really? Well, Lani might find it a big deal. But what can you expect from a woman who wears blue feathers?"
Laughter flashed in his eyes. He shook his head, smiling. "Lani has nothing to do with this discussion. We're talking about your resistance to authority."
The smile disappeared and he leaned forward, serious. "I am the authority on this ship. I must have total compliance. It's only fair to warn you that I've taken some precautions. I've locked in the coordinates to Elysia. They can't be altered without the correct code. I've also contacted my partner, Chase McKnight, and informed him of the situation. I'll be communicating with him several times each cycle. He'll become suspicious if he doesn't hear from me."
So he was going back to the Controller tactics. He might have good reason not to trust her, but anger knotted in Moriah's chest anyway. "What's this, Captain? You feel the need to protect yourself from a mere woman?"
"You're no mere woman. I could keep you in shackles, but I don't want to do that. Especially considering the treatment you've endured from your father and P—"
"I don't want to talk about that," she broke in, her heart racing at the reminder. She hated the compassion she saw in his eyes. She'd far rather deal with his anger than his pity. She pushed away her food. "I'm tired. Please leave now."
Her eyes locked with his, silently defying him to push the issue. "All right," he said, his easy acquiescence another surprise. He seemed full of them tonight. "Just remember what we discussed. I trust there will be no defiance." He rose and started toward the entry, then stumbled and almost fell. He caught his balance, grabbing the panel frame. "That's odd," he muttered.
"What is?"
"Oh, nothing…I'm just clumsy tonight."
Moriah had never known Sabin to be clumsy. He always moved with a lethal, fluid agility. But this entire cycle had been tumultuous, so perhaps he was tired. She certainly was. She'd be glad when her obligation to him was fulfilled and all this was over.
She nodded stiffly. Then he was gone, and she gave a sigh of relief. Until she realized his presence still lingered, in the faint, clean scent of sandalwood. That, along with a whiff of the enticing fragrance from the Thermaplant, teased her senses. She stared at the plant. No one had ever given her a present.
Her heart warmed and softened dangerously. She clamped down on the perilous emotions. She wouldn't be sidetracked. Yet she picked up the Thermaplant, held it between her hands. It was much harder to deal with Sabin when he was being nice.
* * * *
The next morning, Moriah paced her cabin, wondering what in the Abyss was taking Sabin so long. She had assumed he would give her the all clear after he deactivated the motion alerts, like he'd done before, but she had been awake for several hours, and it was long past time for the morning meal. She'd done her stretches and martial arts katas, showered, and even straightened the cabin.
Stacking the dishes on the tray he had brought last night, she was startled to discover he'd left the fork behind. That wasn't at all like him. Either he had started trusting her, which she seriously doubted, or he must have been exceptionally tired. His oversight was to her advantage though, she decided, slipping the fork beneath her bunk pad. She'd given her word not to attack him, but she could resort to using the utensil as a weapon in self-defense.
Defense against what? she had to honestly ask herself. Sabin didn't appear to pose a threat. At least, not a physical one. Instead, he threatened her more on a sensual level. Images flashed into her mind of him surrendering to her plea to mate and lowering his mouth to hers. "Sweetheart, you have no idea of the things I'd like to do with you."
His words from that night in her cabin torpedoed through her, a shower of unwanted heat sizzling in their wake. Why couldn't she forget that near-disastrous seduction? Whirling, she paced the cabin, willing her thoughts to safer avenues.
She forced herself to think about Risa and the others. By now, Lionia and Celie, along with their reluctant hostage, were well on their way home. Hopefully, Kiah and Marna had returned and would get the Intrepid shipment ready to deliver to Calt. When Lionia arrived with the mechanic, he would be able to fix the two ships that were down.
Now she had second thoughts about sending Radd to Risa. All of the women in the group either hated or distrusted males, and with good cause. She hoped Radd's presence wouldn't unsettle them. Still, he seemed to be a quiet, dull little man. If anyone could keep him in line, Lionia could. Chafing at her confinement, she checked the chronometer again. Sabin might like to lounge the day away, but she didn't. She hit the comm button to his cabin.
"Sabin." Nothing. "Sabin, are you in there?" No answer. She paused, wondering if he'd already gone to the cockpit. Perhaps he meant to keep her a prisoner in her cabin the entire trip—six long cycles. Not if she could help it.
She was about to break the link and comm the cockpit, when she heard a groan. Startled, she listened intently. "Sabin? Are you all right?" Another groan was her only answer. Concerned, Moriah headed for the entry panel. Shrill alarms blasted her eardrums when she started through the corridor. Clapping her hands over her ears in a futile effort to block the piercing shrieks, she ran to Sabin's cabin. She didn't bother with the panel chime. If the alarms hadn't brought him running, the tone certainly wouldn't. His panel wasn't secured and slid open when she touched the pad.
He lay sprawled facedown on his bunk, the cover tangled around his hips. He apparently slept nude, a fact she forced herself to ignore as she approached the bunk. "Sabin!" she yelled in an attempt to be heard over the relentless alarms.
He shifted restlessly, clamping his hands over his ears. He didn't appear to be conscious, although she thought he muttered something. She wasn't sure, because her ears were going numb. She whirled and crossed to his control panel. It took several tries before she found the correct switch and finally shut the howling torment off.
Returning to the bunk, she grabbed his shoulder and shook him. "Wake up!" Spirit, but his skin was hot to the touch. She shook him again.
He flopped onto his back, his cover slipping off completely. Her throat went dry at the sight of his body, skin stretched taunt over smooth muscles, dark hair forging a trail from his chest down to his…She jerked her gaze away. No sense in reiterating what she already knew—that Sabin didn't need to wear one of the highly fashionable codpieces to enhance his assets. She pulled the cover over him. Grabbing his shoulders, she shook him insistently, alarmed by the heated skin beneath her fingertips. "Sabin!"
He finally opened his eyes, but they were glazed and unfocused as he stared at her. Panic speared through her. He appeared to be deathly ill. But in a moment, his eyes focused somewhat and recognition flared. "What are you doing here? Why did you set off the alarms?"
"I came to check on you when you didn't get up. It's not my fault you insist on setting those stupid alarms."
He groaned and closed his eyes again. "Damn, but I feel like I've been run over by an ore freighter." He opened one eye to glare at her. "What the hell did you do to me?"
She glared at him, outraged. "What did I do to you? You idiot. More likely, the question is, how much did you drink?" But even as she hurled the accusation, she knew alcohol wasn't the problem. He was burning with fever.
"I didn't drink a drop." Fumbling the cover away, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bunk.
"Something is wrong with you."
He rose shakily to his feet, totally unconcerned with his nudity, and staggered toward the lav. Moriah forced herself to look away from his heavily muscled legs and taut backside. "Maybe you should stay in your bunk," she suggested.
He waved her suggestion away, swaying and catching his balance against the lav entry. "It's just a little virus. I'll be fine as soon as I stretch the kinks out of my muscles."
Fine muscles they were, too, she thought, watching the ripples across his back as he opened the lav panel. She had never seen a nude man. Pax hadn't undressed when he'd forced himself on her. She had found him so repulsive, that if he had stripped, she wouldn't have looked. She had no problem looking at Sabin, however.
She caught herself. No more of those thoughts. She pivoted toward the exit. "I'll leave, then."
"Meet me—" he paused and coughed, a dry hacking cough. "Meet me in the galley in a quarter hour."
She didn't like the sound of that cough, but knew he was too stubborn to listen to any suggestions from her. He certainly wouldn't trust her with his ship. But that was his choice. Shrugging, she left his cabin.
He looked worse when he joined her in the galley. He had showered, but he hadn't shaved, and his beard growth accentuated his washed-out pallor. Shadows ringed his eyes, dulled from fever. He coughed frequently as he replicated the meal, despite her suggestion they eat prepackaged food. Then he ignored the protein sticks and amargrain on his plate, taking only Kava tea.
Moriah was becoming genuinely alarmed, both for Sabin and herself. If whatever he had was contagious, then she could get it, and neither one of them would be able to function. If it was a long-lasting virus or infection, it might hamper her pickup of the iridon. No, it wouldn't, she told herself. Elysia had a large population of healers, and she could seek treatment from one. Besides, she was amazingly healthy. She had never been sick, even after nursing Celie through childhood illnesses.
After the meal, Sabin rose unsteadily and headed for the cockpit. He didn't even insist she walk ahead of him.
"Don't you think you should go to your cabin and rest?" she suggested, following him down the corridor.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He collapsed into the pilot's seat. "Sorry, but I'm not about to let you have free reign of the ship."
She shook her head at his stubbornness. Typical male, refusing to admit to any weakness, however temporary. "Fine."
Silence fell over the cockpit, punctuated b
y Sabin working on his keyboard, muttering beneath his breath, and coughing. Exploring IAR files for the best routes out of Elysia, Moriah kept a covert watch on him. More than once, he just stared blankly at the screen as if he didn't see it; or he appeared on the verge of dozing off. But then he'd shake himself awake and pound the keyboard some more.
Sometime later, the beep of the subspace transceiver shrilled through the cockpit. Sabin lurched forward in his chair, hit the receive button, and snapped, "What?"
"Sounds like you're having a bad day, partner."
"I've had better," Sabin growled. "What do you want, McKnight?"
"Just checking in. Wanted to see if you were still in possession of your ship, or if I needed to put out a blue-feather alert."
"Very funny, old man. As you can see, I'm still here."
"Then I take it everything is under control. No problems?" Sabin's partner didn't have to be specific. Moriah knew he was referring to her, checking to be sure she hadn't caused any trouble—or any harm to Sabin.
"Everything's f—" A coughing spasm halted Sabin’s words. Finally catching his breath, he finished, "Everything's fine."
"Sounds like a bad cough you have there."
"Yeah, well, it's minor. Don't worry about it, old man."
"Do you have any—"
"No! I don't, whatever the hell it is. I said, don't worry."
"You inspire worry, Travers. You still headed for Elysia?"
"Coordinates locked in and secured," Sabin sent a meaningful glance to Moriah. She got his message loud and clear. She couldn't alter the course without the code. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned her attention back to her own screen. She refused to be concerned about it, because she'd given her word, and she was going to Elysia.
"I'll check in later," McKnight said, and static filled the airwaves.
Sabin didn't talk after that. Moriah suspected it might be too much effort to speak between the episodes of coughing. A while later, he pushed to his feet and turned his bloodshot gaze on her. "I'm going to the lav. Don't even think about touching the controls while I'm gone."