He radiated fury. An image of her father's face, twisted with drink and rage, rose in her mind. She tried to take another step back, but the wall halted her. "You didn't give me any choice in the matter. You forced me to stay on your ship."
A vein throbbed in Sabin's temple. "Because you stowed away without my permission. All you had to do was ask for help on Calt, and none of this would have happened. No, I take that back. Any involvement with you is disaster."
"I'm just trying to survive."
"Survive? By dealing with the Leors and smuggling iridon? Are you crazy? Smuggling illegal goods is not survival—it's suicide." He pressed both hands to the wall on either side of her head. "Have you ever stopped to consider the consequences should you fail or get caught by the authorities?"
She raised her chin. "I can take care of myself."
He leaned closer, his breath warm on her face. "You may think you're tough, but you're not, lady. Believe me, either failure or capture will result in your death—but not right away. The Leors have been known to torture their enemies for days before execution. So have the Controllers. And if the Anteks ever got their claws on your sweet hide, they'd make Pax's assaults look like an enjoyable interlude in a Pleasure Dome."
He managed to target the very fears that plagued her in the darkest moments of the night. She knew the risks, but she had no choice. Celie and the others on Risa depended on her. "We all do what we have to."
His jaw clenching, Sabin grabbed her shoulders. "What does it take to get through to you?"
Her chest tightened. Threats, physical force—the old pattern. "You don't need to concern yourself. This has nothing to do with you."
Releasing her abruptly, he stepped back and raked a hand though his hair. "Oh, I see. We're not really together on my ship and a Leor battle cruiser didn't just attack us."
"We weren't attacked. Just contacted."
He rolled his eyes and fell against the wall, banging his head back in abject frustration. Rubbing her arms, Moriah sidled away. The heat of the moment eased, and reality intruded. He knew about the iridon shipment. Even though he didn't know the exact sector in which the drop would be made, he could disrupt her plans considerably.
"What are you going to do now?" she asked.
He sighed heavily and banged his head again. "Damned if I know." He drew several deep breaths. His fists relaxed, and the tension seemed to leave his body. He swept her with an assessing look and said with some exasperation, "I may be angry, but I'm not going to hit you or force myself on you, if that's what you're worried about."
His blunt words surprised her. Then an amazing realization came to her. She believed him. That knowledge shook her to the core. She believed him He was obnoxious, belligerent, and maddeningly unyielding, but he had yet to hurt her. Not even in the throes of rage—and he had been furious with her on several occasions. Yet not once had he harmed her, although he'd had ample opportunity.
With another jolt, she knew, really knew, Sabin Travers was a man of his word. She was safe with him. The pressure in her chest eased. Her trepidation dissolved. She felt oddly lighthearted. But the adrenaline remained, heightening her senses, pulsing into an altogether different reaction.
Staring into his midnight eyes, she remembered the feel of his lips against hers, his touch branding her body. Despite the dire warnings about males from her friends on Risa, despite her own bitterness, she wanted to again experience the passion and pleasure he had shown her.
Her breathing and heart rate accelerated, a molten rush of desire flooding her body. His earlier, heated words echoed in her mind. "Take me. Do what you want, sweetheart…Whatever you want."
What she wanted was to be free of Pax's legacy, no longer bound by crippling memories. To find nirvana, no matter how fleeting, in Sabin's arms. Taking a chance, she leaped into the Abyss. "It wouldn't be force," she whispered.
His eyes narrowing, he stepped toward her. "What?" Placing both hands on his chest, she pushed him against the wall. He grabbed her wrists. "Moriah—"
The protest died abruptly when she pressed a kiss against his bare chest. His heart thundered beneath her mouth. "I said," she murmured, running her tongue over his nipple, "it won't be against my will."
He went very still. "I think I'm hallucinating."
She pulled her hands free and slid them to his shoulders, pressing herself against him. "Does this feel real?"
He groaned. "You're making it very hard for me to stay mad."
"Doesn't this feel good?"
He raised his arms, hesitated. "Ah, what's the use?" he muttered, wrapping his arms around her. "Feels like I've died and gone to Haven."
"Take me with you," she whispered.
His hands slid up, cupping her face. His jet-black eyes locked with hers, delving into her soul—probing, searching, seeking out her innermost secrets. "Tell me," he ordered softly. "Tell me exactly what you want."
Her heart hammered in her chest. She had no experience with mating games, didn't know how to communicate with a lover. She bit her lip, wanting this, but daunted by the intimacy he demanded.
"Tell me, Moriah. No games, no secrets, between us."
No, she didn't want anything between them. No barriers, no clothing. Only flesh to flesh. "I want you to touch me," she whispered. "I want the pleasure you gave me in my cabin. I want to mate with you."
His eyes darkened. "That's good," he murmured hoarsely. "Because I want the same thing."
He ran a finger along the seam of her flightsuit, then beneath it, sliding it open. Slowly, he eased the fabric from her shoulders. Cool air rushed over her, but his heated perusal of her body made her skin feel like it had been seared by a laser. His fingers teased one breast, circling the nipple lightly.
"Sabin," she groaned, trying to press against his hand.
He glanced up, his intense gaze paralyzing her. His hand closed over her breast, kneading, caressing, giving her the contact she craved. But it was her face he watched, passion sparking in his eyes as he observed her reaction. Cupping the back of her head with his other hand, anchoring his fingers in her hair, he dragged her against him. His mouth settled over hers, deliberate, determined. He kissed her hard, letting her taste his need.
His hand slid from her breast to her back, slipping beneath her flightsuit and cupping her buttocks to mold her tighter against him. Surprisingly, she welcomed his aggression, welcomed the feel of his body. This wasn't the painful hold of force, but the embrace of mutual desire—desire that spiraled out of control when his fingers slid between her legs. His intimate touch sent shockwaves through her lower body, sensations so intense, she trembled.
When her legs gave out, he swung her into his arms and carried her to his bunk. He stripped away her suit, then his pants, coming down on the mat beside her. He launched an all-out seduction then, kissing and caressing his way down her body. His hair trailed over her skin, a silken whisper of sensation. Even in the throes of passion, she sensed the care he took with her, felt the tenderness of his touch.
Parting her thighs, he slid his hands upward with excruciating slowness, causing her to tense in expectation. His fingers found her feminine flesh, claimed her with searing intimacy. Coherent thought fled beneath the onslaught of pleasure.
Need, frantic and sharp, pounded through her veins, filling every cell, sparking in her lower body. She inhaled Sabin's intoxicating, masculine scent. Every sense seemed acutely attuned to him, to the feel of his skin beneath her hands, the taste of his mouth. She opened herself completely to his touch, tension beginning to coil within her.
She was poised on the brink of shattering into a billion atoms, but he refused to give her that experience. He tore his mouth from hers, his breathing harsh. "Sweetheart, lift yourself over me."
She levered up on her elbow, trying to find equilibrium and a semblance of control. Throwing him a challenging glance, she lowered her mouth to his chest and pressed kisses over it. "I thought I was calling the shots," she murmured. "You said I w
as in charge."
"That's fine unless I die first," he groaned. She laughed, intoxicated by her sensual power, and slid over him. "Lift up a little," he instructed. "I'll help you."
She was poised above him, about to enter territory that had been dark and terrifying the other times she'd been there. She hesitated, uncertainty and fear flaring. "Moriah. Look at me." Panic beginning to edge out passion, she met his discerning gaze. Understanding and compassion burned in his eyes. "It's me—Sabin. Focus on me."
This is Sabin, she told herself. His hands on her hips gently urged her down. She braced her hands against his shoulders as he slowly pushed upward. Dark memories eclipsed the pleasure. Panic reared and she tensed.
"Stay with me, sweetheart."
She forced air into her lungs, and he filled her completely. Clenching her eyes shut, she tried to push away the memories.
"Look at me, Moriah."
She willed her eyes open, looked into black, molten orbs that mesmerized, commanded. This is Sabin. Not Pax. Sabin.
"You're beautiful," he told her hoarsely. "So beautiful. I need you. Stay with me."
His words flowed over her like a healing balm. The tightness around her heart eased, and she moved with the urging of his hands. She felt no pain. Just fullness and the beckoning of pleasure. His hands slid over her, caressing, comforting, tantalizing. She found herself moving freely now, found her inner muscles tightening, anticipating.
He stroked between her legs, unerringly finding the sensitive nub there. Sensation streaked through her every nerve ending. Her eyes closing, she threw back her head. "No. Focus on me, Moriah."
Slowly, she opened her eyes again, met his heated gaze. He kept stroking, until the need for completion became overwhelming, until her movements matched his. An exhilarating sense of freedom buoyed her. All else faded except sensation and Sabin's face, his glittering eyes, his husky encouragement. This is Sabin.
"Let go, Moriah. Fly with me."
Oh, Spirit, she was coming apart, exploding into particles, hurtling through space. She cried out, rocked by tremor after tremor, and then felt him surge beneath her with his own hoarse cry. Buffeted until all energy was depleted, every muscle weak, she collapsed on him.
They lay that way awhile, their labored breathing the only sound in the room. Finally he shifted, sliding her to his side. He cradled her against him, tucking her head beneath his chin. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
She felt like she'd been hit with a stunner, although her body tingled with pleasurable aftershocks. An emotional tumult raged within. The dark chains of shame seemed to burst and fall away. She felt joyous, free, somehow cleansed.
She also experienced a deep sense of bonding with Sabin, along with gratitude, and some deeper emotions she didn't want to face. So many feelings, positive yet overwhelming in their intensity. Hot tears overflowed and tracked down her cheeks, despite her effort to keep them contained.
"Ah, sweetheart." He shifted and cradled her face in his hands. "Did I hurt you?"
"No. Of course not." He certainly had to know she had enjoyed it. She'd held back nothing from him. Mortified now, she tried to break free of his grasp, hating for him to see this unusual weakness. She never cried.
Stubborn male that he was, he wouldn't let her hide. "Then what is it?"
She clenched her eyes shut. "It's just that all these thoughts and feelings are jumbled up inside."
He relented and let her take refuge, and she burrowed against him. "I think I understand," he murmured, stroking her hair. "Kind of like an emotional meltdown."
Moriah relaxed, soothed by his touch and the comfort of his body. For the moment, she felt utterly safe. Here, in the security of Sabin's arms, the past, the Leors, all the concerns of being solely responsible for an entire colony, seemed very distant. She batted at the tears still seeping from beneath her closed lids. "I hate to be like this."
"Hey." He shifted again, leaned close. "It's okay to cry." His lips pressed against her eyelids, then followed the tracks of her tears. "I cried a lot after my family was murdered."
What other way could a young boy deal with such pain? She took his hand and held it tightly. He paused a moment, then fell back, rolling her against his side. "Only when I was alone, though. Shielders don't like to show emotion in front of others. I stayed in so many different homes, I never considered myself a part of any family. So I wouldn't show my feelings around anyone."
"How old were you when your family…when it happened?"
"Six seasons. Old enough to know what was going on, but too little to be of any use. I blamed myself for a long time. Thought I'd done something wrong, was being punished by having my family taken away."
Her heart ached for the suffering of a boy, for the pain still reflected in the man's voice. "How horrible for you."
He shrugged. "Others have suffered a lot worse. At least I didn't fall into the hands of slavers. Growing up, I had enough to eat and shelter from the elements. Now, I have this ship. Even though it's old and broken down, it's mine."
He lapsed into silence, and she suspected his thoughts traveled a disturbing path. It was odd how quickly they'd gone from high peaks of wild abandon back to bleak uncertainty. Damn the Controllers, and the Anteks and shadowers who worked for them. Power and greed were all they cared about. They were responsible for the rampant misery and suffering that seemed to rule everywhere.
As far as Moriah knew, the Shielders had never caused any problems. Their only crime was their ability to resist Controller mind domination. For that, they'd been driven from their homes, imprisoned, tortured, and murdered.
The Shielders weren't the only citizens suffering under Controller rule. The high taxes levied on all goods sold and wages earned made it nearly impossible for any average being to survive beyond a minimal existence. Only those providing illegal goods and services, or working directly for the Controllers, could recognize material gains.
With so many dependent on her, Moriah had been forced to enter the dangerous arena of smuggling to make ends meet. And she'd done quite well. But now, if she failed to get the iridon delivered…She wouldn't fail—she couldn't. But to ensure her success, she'd have to make sure Sabin didn't interfere. A deep weariness weighed upon her. At some point, she'd have to deal with what had just transpired between them, but she was too depleted to do so now.
"You're very quiet. What are you thinking about?" he asked.
She pushed herself up, brushing her hair away from her face. Staring down at him, into eyes as black and infinite as space, she felt an alarming surge of tenderness. She wanted to smooth the lines of grief and pain from his face, to run her fingers through the dark tangles of his hair. This would never do. She couldn't afford involvement with any man. Exhaustion was affecting her judgment. Distance and rest would restore clarity.
"I'm really tired," she said, scooting to the edge of the bunk. "We both need some sleep."
As she swung her legs off the bunk, a strong arm snaked around her waist and dragged her back. "Running away?" Sabin asked softly.
"What?" Indignant, she whirled around. "I never—"
He pulled her down, pinning her with his arm and a well-muscled leg. "I'll attribute your lack of manners to general ignorance of mating etiquette."
"Lack of manners?" she screeched, pulling back her arm to slug him.
He grabbed her wrist with his other hand. She tried to jerk free, but his grip was like a steel vise. Then he had the nerve to grin at her like a Vilana banshee. "We still need to work on them."
Thoroughly irritated, she squirmed beneath him. "No, we do not. Let me up!"
"Moriah, Moriah," he sighed. He lowered his mouth and swirled his tongue over her earlobe. "Relax. Don't take everything so seriously."
She shivered, trying to ignore the sensations the moist heat stirred. "I'd never take you seriously, Travers. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go to my cabin now.
"Oh, but I do mind. You see, I get highly insulted when I have a
beautiful, sexy bed partner who tries to bolt from my bunk."
She pulled back to glare at him, but the mischievous glint in his eyes diffused her indignation. As much as she hated to admit it, she found his roguish behavior charming. But she'd walk barefoot on scalding energy stones before she'd ever admit it to him. "I'm not bolting from your bunk," she retorted. "I'm exhausted, Travers. I need some rest."
"Oh, yeah?" he gloated, radiating pure male satisfaction. "Wonder how you got so tired?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
He laughed. Her heart considerably lighter, she felt the oppressive, negative energy of the day's events dissipating. Trying not to smile, she shoved against his chest. "Let me up."
"Stay with me tonight, Moriah." His voice turned serious, and he entwined his fingers with hers. "We're both worn out. I just want to hold you while we sleep."
It sounded so tempting. She knew only too well how dark the night hours could get, when all was quiet and there were no distractions to keep fears and doubts, loneliness and painful memories at bay. When there was nothing—or no one—to turn to for reassurance and comfort.
She also knew these moments with Sabin were just fleeting whirlwinds of time that would cease when they reached Elysia. Yet she wanted to hold them close. To savor them to the fullest. Just for tonight, she told herself. Just for tonight.
She allowed him to gather her against his side. Resting her head on his chest, she listened to the reassuring thud of his heart and his deep, even breathing. Cocooned in his warmth and quiet strength, she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She woke some time later, finding herself curled against Sabin. He lay sprawled on his back, one arm thrown behind his head, the other across his body. The auto lights hadn't turned on, so it was still sleep shift. Drowsy, she watched the rise and fall of his chest, remembering the passion they had shared, her surprising lack of modesty or restraint.
She stared at the strong hand resting against a washboard belly, lifting with each breath. Reaching out, she skimmed her fingers over his hand. How gently he had touched her, how sensuously. Her caress ventured across his powerful chest, tracing the swells of muscle beneath the taut skin. He was beautifully built, masculine and solid.
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