Shadower

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Shadower Page 28

by Catherine Spangler


  Elation rushed through her as she realized what her reaction to Sabin signified. She could overcome her demons. The choice was hers. If she let her basic distrust of men keep her from acknowledging her feelings for Sabin, then Pax and her father would have won. But as long as she refused to cater to the memories, as long as she refused to allow her experiences to warp her, they would never have the victory.

  In that moment, she chose. To win.

  "I know now that you're not Pax, and you're not my father," she said slowly. "I realize you're nothing like either of them, even if you are a shadower."

  Sabin watched her intently. "What are you saying?"

  She wanted to tell him how she felt. But he had no reason to trust her, not after everything she'd done. From his viewpoint, he'd be a fool to believe anything she told him. "My actions around you haven't been very exemplary. You probably think I'm dishonorable, cold, uncaring."

  He shook his head. "No, I don't think that at all."

  "How could you believe otherwise?"

  "Moriah, I realize the things you did were acts of desperation. You had good reason to be upset when you discovered I was a shadower. And you are very caring. I've seen you with Celie. I saw how you held that boy on Nissar and calmed him. I watched you mourn for Kiah."

  He paused, his warm expression melting her. "I've held you in my arms, seen you in the throes of passion. You're definitely not cold. We've had some bad experiences between us, but we've also shared a lot of good things. I want us to focus on the good experiences."

  She struggled to assimilate what he was saying, struggled to accept what he offered so freely. After all she'd done to him, after all he'd lost because of her, he was gifting her with understanding and forgiveness. She had underestimated him on so many levels; sadly misjudged the true measure of this man, and his ability to see into her soul. She'd be a fool to let him slip away.

  She suddenly felt liberated, unfettered by fear and doubt. Her heart soared and hurtled into free flight, urging her to take a chance, to reach for the stars. She took the plunge. "I love you, Sabin Travers."

  A stunned expression flashed on his face. "What did you say?"

  She'd come this far; she never backed down once negotiations were opened. She stepped forward, grabbed the front of his flightsuit, and pulled him closer. "You heard what I said, Travers."

  "I—I think I'd like to hear it again."

  "What I'd like," she murmured near his ear, "is for you to take me to bed and make me forget Pax Blacklock ever existed."

  His eyes flared, and his body stiffened. His hands framed her face. "I find it hard to believe our conversation brought this on. You hated my guts up until about five minutes ago."

  "I never hated you. I hated what you represented," she told him earnestly. "I was letting the past taint my life. But you helped clear the path. Pax can never bother me again. I refuse to give any more power to the past. Only the future."

  Myriad emotions swept through his eyes. He stroked her cheek, then dropped his hand lightly over her breast. "My touch doesn't bother you? Doesn't remind you of what Pax did?"

  His touch was enough to send her heart racing and her breast aching for more. She placed her hand over his and pressed it closer. "Yes, it bothers me. It makes me hot and bothered and wanting you. Mate with me, Sabin."

  His body responded instantly, springing to life against her abdomen. Desire molded his face into sharp angles. "Take off your flightsuit," he ordered.

  His husky command made her heart pound even faster. She wondered if her rib cage could hold up under the strain. Stepping back, she undressed with shaking fingers. He watched every move, his searing perusal sending molten lava through her veins.

  "What about your clothing?" she challenged, when her boots and flightsuit had been shed.

  He didn't look up, his attention on her body. "What about it?"

  "Take it off, Travers." She went to him, tugging impatiently at his flightsuit. He had other ideas, like kissing her and caressing her breasts. By the time she got him undressed, she was almost delirious with desire.

  Trapping her against him, he commandeered her mouth. She gave herself over to him, body and soul. He fanned the flames expertly, stretching her out on the bunk, sweeping his hands over her. "Tell me again what you said earlier," he murmured, his lips tracing her curves, moving lower.

  Moriah couldn't think straight, much less utter love words. Words he hadn't returned. "Maybe I don't want to repeat it," she gasped as he kissed her abdomen.

  "Oh, I'll make you say it again." He spread her legs and slid his tongue along her thigh, coming precariously close to—

  "Sabin!"

  He looked up, flashed his devil's smile. "And again."

  He lowered his head and kissed her intimately. Oh, Spirit! She twisted beneath him, shocked and stunned and…burning. He was merciless, holding her down while he teased and tasted. He hurled her over the precipice, and she shattered into a thousand starbursts.

  She was still reeling when he began his seduction anew, flowing up her body like melted caroba. He didn't allow her to drift down, but hurled her back into the inferno. She retaliated, touching and kissing the hard planes of his body, tantalizing and teasing, until his need was as great as hers. When he urged her to slide over him, she resisted. "No. I want you on top this time."

  He touched her face, his eyes searching. "Are you sure?"

  She loved him, trusted him totally. "Yes."

  He covered her, slid into her gently. She didn't feel any panic. Having Sabin over her, inside her, felt so good, so right.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  She looked into his ebony eyes, so beautiful and caring. "I've never been better."

  "I love you," he said softly.

  Emotion swelled, filling her heart until she thought it might burst. This was the way it should be between a man and a woman. Give and take. Love and respect.

  Sabin moved against her, slow sure strokes that left her gasping. "Stay with me, sweetheart. We're going to the sun." He proceeded to take her breath away with a possession so hot and fierce, her sun went nova.

  Much later, she stretched languorously against him, levering up to press a kiss against his lips. He groaned. "Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn't possibly do it again."

  "Weakling," she teased.

  "You're insatiable," he growled, rolling and pinning her beneath him. He kissed her, then rested his forehead against hers. "There is something you can tell me, though. Something I've been wondering about."

  "What's that?"

  "That night in your cabin. I have vague memories of you naked, but that's about it. What really happened?"

  Moriah smiled slowly, fully confident in her feminine power. Should she tell him? Or keep him guessing? She slid her hand behind his head, urging him down. "Well, it's like this…" She proceeded to whisper a sultry, suggestive tale into his ear. Truth or fiction? He would never know for sure. But there was one thing she intended him to know with absolute certainty.

  That she loved him.

  Epilogue

  It was a perfect day for a wedding. A small breeze had kicked up, keeping the temperature bearable. Wispy clouds drifted across a vivid turquoise sky, filtering the intense sun's rays. Sabin and Moriah stood on the embankment of a modest crater that would eventually be a full-fledged lake.

  "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked proudly. Already, water flowed up from the underground aquifer, through pipes that had been placed yesterday.

  "It's magnificent. When can I go fishing?"

  She punched his arm playfully. "You don't have time to fish, Travers. You get today off, but then it's back to work for you."

  "You're such a slave driver," Sabin complained. But he'd gladly be her slave anytime.

  Moriah lifted her face to the sunshine and inhaled the fresh air. She looked stunning in a simple sleeveless gold tunic, with matching leggings that lovingly hugged her shapely legs. He placed a possessive hand over the nape of her neck. "You
know I like your hair down."

  "It's too hot to wear it that way." She flashed the smile that always sent his pulse racing. "But you can take it down later."

  "Sweetheart, if you can't tolerate this heat, you're going to be in serious trouble tonight."

  "I think I can handle it," she teased, leaning over to steal a quick kiss. She pulled back before he could deepen the contact, much to his disappointment. She looked him over, radiating pure feminine appreciation. His blood warmed several hundred degrees. "You look very handsome in that tunic," she told him.

  Janaye had insisted on making him a new tunic and pants for the wedding. Roanne, who had been a slave in a textile facility, declared solid black silk too severe. She'd spent hours embroidering silver thread into intricate patterns through the shoulders and sleeves.

  Sabin had felt uncomfortable with the women fussing over him, but resigned himself. When he'd arrived on Risa, he'd been careful to act nonthreatening. The ladies had been leery and cautious at first, but once they realized he was a permanent part of the colony, that he wouldn't hurt them, they accepted him. Now they seemed at ease around him.

  It appeared he had acquired a family of sorts—seven women and one smart-mouthed ship mechanic. That was overwhelming enough, but when Jarek and five other Shielder men had shown up seven cycles ago and made camp in the clearing, Risa suddenly seemed like a bustling star base.

  The men had come to offer their assistance in digging the lake and irrigating the land. Jarek explained that they wanted to show their appreciation for everything Sabin had contributed to the Shielder cause.

  The women had been extremely apprehensive over the presence of six brawny males in the colony. Kind of like mixing lanraxes and krats together—a volatile situation. But Sabin threatened the men within a millimeter of their lives if they upset the females or acted disrespectful in any way, and they had been great, treating the women with grave courtesy and consideration.

  They had also worked very hard, accomplishing an astonishing transformation to Risa in the past seven cycles. A lake was dug, and more grass and trees were planted.

  Then today, everyone had gathered to watch Jarek perform the Shielder lifemate ceremony joining Sabin and Moriah. Of course, they'd all wanted to celebrate the event. They were making good headway, too, if the laughter and singing were any indication.

  "Hey, you two. Get over here," Jarek called. "You can be alone later. We're already eating."

  "Already drinking is more like it," Sabin commented. Moriah laughed. Holding hands, they strolled toward the tables, which had been placed on the grass and loaded with Elysian delicacies.

  He was right. Jarek had filled the glasses with potent Vilana wine. He handed them around, then raised his glass. "A toast, to Sabin and Moriah. May joy be your shadow, happiness your companion. May you live long, in peace and prosperity."

  A chorus of male and female voices roared their approval. "Thank you," Moriah said, sipping her drink. She lifted up her glass. "To Jarek and all the men, for working so hard to dig us a lake. And for our expanded greenbelt."

  She indicated a large section of land circling outward from the huts. Tiny shoots of morini grass sprouted from the newly irrigated earth in neat rows. A dozen Yarton saplings, brought in from Odera, had been planted at even intervals and would one day provide shade.

  Sabin knew better than anyone how much Risa's development meant to Moriah. She had a dream of creating a paradise and a haven for herself and her loved ones. He was committed to helping her, and he had no doubt they'd make that dream a reality. "You have my thanks as well," he said. "Your time and labor are a very precious gift."

  Jarek clasped his shoulder. "No more precious than the twelve seasons you've given to our people, the money and supplies you've provided. We can never repay you."

  Emotion clogged Sabin's throat. Uncomfortable, he struggled to find words. Relief swept through him when Moriah broke in, stepping forward to intercept Celie's second glass or wine. "That's enough, sweetness," she chided her sister gently.

  He tried not to smile at Celie's petulant expression. She flounced over to stand beside Jarek, looking at him with adoration shining in her caroba eyes. She had developed a sizable crush on the Shielder commander.

  "Moriah and I would like to offer our drilling equipment for any colonies that can make use of it,” Sabin announced. "We still have some work to do here, but then we're willing to break down the equipment and transport it to a rendezvous point."

  Jarek's eyes lit up. "That's great!" He grabbed Sabin's hand and shook it heartily, then kissed Moriah on the cheek. "Thank you. Equipment like that is hard to come by. We can certainly use it, and I'll personally guarantee its safe return."

  "We trust you," Moriah replied.

  Sabin realized she meant it. The profits from the iridon delivery had financed the new excavating equipment, which was very expensive. The fact that she was willing to loan it out showed how far she'd come from the woman who didn't believe an honorable man existed.

  "This calls for another round of drinks." Jarek opened a new bottle of wine and refilled the glasses. "Sorry, pretty lady," he told Celie, skipping the glass she held out. "I can't have your sister mad at me."

  Celie glowed at him, totally ensnared by his charm. Smiling, Jarek mussed her hair affectionately. Sabin hoped she wouldn't swoon at his feet. Damn, but she was a looker. He'd have to start brandishing a laser rifle to keep the males at bay.

  "So, Travers," Jarek said. "When will I get to meet this mysterious partner of yours? I would think he'd be at your wedding."

  Off chasing Dansan again. One of these days, Sabin was going to find out why McKnight was so obsessed with finding the woman. "He was sorry to miss it, but some urgent business came up. He's dropping by for a visit in a few cycles."

  Jarek nodded. All Shielders understood urgency and the need to put survival before everything else. "What are your plans now?"

  "I'll continue to track criminals and contribute the funds to the colonies. Moriah will travel with me and make arrangements to purchase and deliver goods around the quadrant." On the correct side of the Ordinances this time. Sabin wasn't letting her take any more risks.

  "The other women will make most of the deliveries," Moriah interjected. "Lionia will oversee the operations, and Radd will accompany her. He can pick up repair jobs wherever they go. I've been thinking about something else," she continued. "I've got an idea that will earn a lot of miterons."

  Sabin looked at her sharply. She hadn't discussed any ideas with him. "Do share."

  "I want to open a mercantile on Calt." Her eyes shone with excitement. "Right now, the goods are sold directly off the ships. There is no actual store offering merchandise. The mercantile would be easy enough to stock, and we could charge the highest prices in the quadrant."

  Calt? The hellhole of the quadrant? He didn’t think so. "Oh, no, you're not going anywhere near Calt. It's too dangerous."

  She waved her hand in dismissal. "Don't be so overprotective. I've been to Calt many times." "Yeah, and look what happened the last time," he growled.

  "I met you, didn't I?"

  This was going to be an uphill battle all the way. He opened his mouth, intending to lay down the law, but she rushed on. "We could get men from the colonies to take turns running the mercantile. We'd split the profits with the colonists."

  He wasn't going for it. He knew Moriah too well. "Now wait a millisecond—"

  "That's a great idea!" Jarek exclaimed. "We could make a megaton of gold on Calt. I'm sure I can get plenty of volunteers to man the store. You're a genius, Mori."

  Sabin scowled. "Don't encourage her. You don't know her like I do."

  "What a mean thing to say." Moriah turned on the charm, resting her hand on his chest, looking at him with those melted-gold eyes. Blood rushed to his lower extremities. Blazing hells. The woman did not play fair.

  "I won't be staffing the mercantile," she assured him, stroking his chest in a very disconcert
ing way. "Neither will any of the other women. I'll just oversee stocking it and scheduling the men to work there. I'll only fill in from time to time if we're shorthanded."

  "You won't fill in ever," he insisted, feeling his tenuous grip on the situation slipping away.

  "We'll see," she murmured.

  Sabin realized he couldn't win by arguing the point in front of all these people. They'd finish this discussion in private. Moriah might think she could work around him, but he was learning how to handle her. He hoped. Conceding for now, he pulled her against him and kissed her thoroughly, amid loud cheers.

  "What was that about?" she asked when they came up for air.

  "Just taking out my frustration, sweetheart. I've discovered this is a very effective way to deal with it. And with you around, I expect to stay frustrated."

  She smiled. "Should be fun."

  Grinning, Sabin pulled her against his side. Feeling a deep sense of contentment, he contemplated his oddball family.

  Lionia and Radd lounged beneath a mature Yarton tree at the edge of the copse. Radd was stretched out on the grass, his head in the Zarian's lap. She was dipping suman grapes into wine and feeding them to him. She was actually cooing to him. Zarians never acted like that. Unbelievable.

  Sitting one table over, Roanne stared shyly at her hands, nodding in reply to Arden, a serious young Shielder who also stuttered. He seemed very taken with Roanne and had sought her company frequently since he'd arrived. That she hadn't bolted like a frightened kerani was another surprise.

  It wasn't any more amazing than watching Marna and Tyna fussing over the rest of the men, fixing plates of food for them. Both women were in their middle seasons, and Sabin wondered if they had ever had children of their own. Their maternal instincts certainly seemed intact.

  Janaye reposed in a special upholstered chair that had been purchased just for her. The uncontested matriarch, she observed the activities, her discerning gaze everywhere. Her eyes might appear unfocused, or she might doze off from time to time, but she was aware of everything around her. A very astute woman, she knew how to swing her Yarton club pretty hard, too. Sabin still had a small knot on his head to prove it.

 

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