by Debra Jess
She heard some female grumbling nearby and the hum of a floater, so Daeven's partner must be driving. She saw the way his eyes flicked toward the voice, before turning back to her.
So much for a private message. "I just wanted to say that I enjoyed our lunch the other day. I was hoping we could repeat it."
Daeven's features softened, the hard chisel of his cheekbones lifting under a small smile. "I would like that too. Comm me when you return to Facility Prime. I'll have to bring the delegates back there eventually. Maybe we could try a late dinner."
"I'd like that." At that moment she wanted to see Daeven, not because she needed the Black Wave seed, but because she wanted to be with him. Her resolve wavered. She could live a perfectly happy, normal life without her past, as long as he was in it.
She broke the connection and leaned as far back as the cockpit seat would allow. No luxury massage for the pilot. She would fly soon, and later she would remember that she was a prisoner, that she had a past, and that she wanted to know what else Manitac had stolen from her.
In the end, she could never truly live while she still wore the collar, no matter how understanding Daeven might be. Yet while discovering her past didn't mean the collar would be removed, it might make wearing it all that more untenable. How could she care for Daeven while spying for Yohzad and hiding her recovered past from both of them?
It was a nightmare scenario by anyone's standards.
Yet she careened toward that same situation like a ship in free fall. Was she really brave enough to place everything at risk for memories that might only hurt her?
Yohzad seemed to think she had what it took to be a spy. Part of that excited her, part worried her. Was it because he had faith in her abilities and wanted more for her, or was it because he could control her and use her?
Either way, she still had to apologize for kissing him.
When it came down to it, she couldn’t think about what was best for Yohzad or Daeven or what they would think, not when she truly didn’t know their motives. She chose her path—she would regain her memory. Everything else had to be secondary.
"Captain Chase?"
Ramsey stuck her head into the cockpit. Tamarja had been so deep in her thoughts, she hadn't even heard the delegates boarding.
"We're ready to leave now."
"Yes, ma'am. We'll be lifting off momentarily."
Ramsey nodded and backed away. Tamarja contacted Traffic. Soon she was in the air where she could tuck her troubles away.
Four hours later, Tamarja stepped lightly out of the compressor as soon as the doors dissolved. She couldn't help fussing with her necklace. She simply wasn't used to jewelry, never mind clothing that revealed so much skin. She had to fight the urge to cover herself. Daeven had contacted her just as she'd landed the shuttle, asking her to meet him on the executive level of Facility Prime. He had tried so hard to sound mysterious, but his voice almost sounded giddy.
Giddy and Daeven didn't fit together. But it had made her suspect he had a romantic streak in him, and that made her very curious.
So she had made another emergency comm to Jita and made sure she'd used the word "date." A few minutes and a small transfer from her meager funds, and Jita had taken care of the rest. The sleeveless white-and-gold patterned dress ended just above her knees, exposing more of herself than she ever had before—more than she could remember, at least.
Her security clearance allowed her access to the upper levels, even after everyone had gone home for the night. The spooky silence and dim lighting almost sent her running back into the compressor.
She glanced around, making sure no one had stayed late. Daeven had left specific instructions: follow the corridor away from the executive wing, turn left.
This led her to a second set of office suites, almost identical to the director's. Tamarja approached the executive suite and dissolved the door. Stepping inside, she expected the automatic lighting system to activate. When that didn't happen, she slapped at the walls, searching for the controls.
"Don't bother, they don't work here."
Daeven's voice drifted from her right. A lantern snapped to life, and she saw him leaning against a large stack of containers. Tamarja swallowed as she reflexively brought her hand back up to her neckline. Gone was the fierce security officer, and in his place stood a handsome rogue with slicked-back hair, bright eyes, and loose-fitting shirt tucked into a narrow waist.
"Wha…what's all this?" Tamarja's hand fluttered away from her neck toward the darkness.
Daeven casually pushed off the containers, walking toward her with a devilish smile. "The director overestimated office space when she had Facility Prime built. Guess she figured she'd have a bigger staff or AuRaKaz would grow faster than it has. Either way, these offices just hold unused junk at the moment."
He stopped suddenly, not quite reaching her personal space, and held out the lantern, his gaze wandering up and down her body.
"What?" She quickly checked herself—nothing appeared to be out of place. Her necklace hadn't fallen off. Maybe she'd smeared her makeup? "Why are you staring?"
"You're wearing a…dress."
"And you're wearing a suit. What's wrong with that?" The look on his face was too comical for her to get offended.
The shock left his face, replaced again with intense interest. "Nothing at all. Just noticing your legs."
"Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself."
He grinned and held out a hand. "Come with me."
Tamarja grabbed his hand and let him weave her around the assorted clutter until they reached the view panes. Just like in the director's office, they ran from floor to ceiling, only these faced west toward the sunset.
Just like Yohzad's apartment.
Ruthlessly burying that thought, Tamarja focused on the man holding her hand. Through the view pane, she could see twin moons, full and round, bathed in the light of the sun, one appearing almost on top of the other.
As Tamarja reveled in the view, the section of view pane right in front of her dissolved.
"Ready?" Daeven asked as he walked off the edge.
Gasping, Tamarja opened her hand to let go of Daeven, expecting him to fall fifteen stories. Instead, he floated on air in front of her.
"There's a balcony here." He kept his hand in hers, tugging at her, encouraging her to step outside. "There's plenty of room for a crowd and there are pulse barriers along the edge so you can't fall off even by accident."
Slowly, feeling with one foot first, Tamarja stepped onto the ledge, clutching Daeven closer to her as she looked down, seeing the gardens far below. The view reminded her of her dizziness on the walkway inside the cavern.
"It's almost like flying," he said.
She shook her head, her courage returning as Daeven slid his arms around her. "No, I'm in control when I fly."
"Even as a passenger?"
She looked up into his face, focusing on something other than thin air. "I know what to do in an emergency when I fly. There are procedures to follow, equipment to protect you."
He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "I can protect you," he whispered.
Shivers went through her. This dangerous yet protective side of him was very sexy. It didn’t hurt that he had done a complete one-eighty, transforming from a standoffish, almost judgmental ass to a sensitive, alluring man who wanted to be closer to her. Whatever had caused this change, she wasn’t sure, but she liked it, so long as he didn’t change back.
Oh, so tempting to just throw myself into his arms. "Would you do that, Security Officer Blayde?" She couldn’t help but throw in that little dig with his title, both to show she hadn’t forgotten his earlier treatment of her and to drop a subtle hint that she knew he might have felt her collar. Attraction aside, she was nobody’s punching bag or fool, and if they were to pursue something, he needed to know that.
When he didn’t answer, she decided to press things a bit further. She leaned in closer, rubbing her cheek against h
is, feeling the rough start of a beard that she'd missed in the darkness. "Would you risk your life to save mine?" In part she was being playful, but in part, she really wanted to know.
Daeven stood up straight, pulling her closer. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I would, Tamarja Chase."
The double meaning was not lost on her. Tamarja held her breath. Daeven hesitated, almost as if waiting for her consent. She didn't hesitate. Leaning against him, she stood on tiptoe and pulled his head down so his lips could meet hers. Her dress crushed against his shirt, the fabric tugged downward as she pressed harder against him.
Their lips fit together in a synchronized dance that neither one of them needed to direct. Tamarja let her hands drop from behind his head to lie on his shoulders, so broad and strong. How could she not explore the vast expanse of his back? Daeven reached down to cup her bottom and pull her closer while the other strayed upward, playing with her hair, reaching underneath for her…
Neck!
Tamarja jerked back. "I'm sorry," she stammered, trying to get her breath back. She needed an excuse, a good one. Right now wasn’t how or when she wanted to confirm if he knew or not. Suspecting was one thing, but if he touched her collar, there would be no denying it. "I didn't mean to go quite that fast. Please don't think that I…"
"It's all right." Daeven stepped away, releasing his hold, running his errant hand through his own hair. "I had forgotten…I mean, it was my fault. I shouldn't have just grabbed you like that. I mean, we hardly know each other."
"Actually, I was the one doing the grabbing. You're right, though. We should wait until we know each other better."
Wait until I have the courage to tell you I have a prisoner's collar, or ask you if you already know—and if so, how. Damn it, I don't want to talk about this now.
Daeven motioned her back inside the office. "I brought food. Why don't we eat first, then we can talk?"
"Sounds good to me."
She waited while he hauled out a blanket and spread it over the invisible ledge. She felt a little more secure with a visible barrier. Daeven set down a container of food, warm to the touch, while Tamarja separated sets of plates and utensils. She didn't comment when he settled down on the far edge of the blanket, keeping the food between them, but part of her felt relieved he was granting her time and space to adjust. He might not know this was her first date, but she knew, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to move any faster.
"Have you been taking my advice?" he asked as he scooped some meat on her plate, followed by a drizzle of gravy. "Keeping low, not asking questions?"
Climbing mountains, discovering secret hangars, she thought as she accepted the plate from him. "There really aren't any questions to ask in my position." She kept her answer selective instead of outright lying. "Ramsey tells me when and where to fly, and I fly. Not much more to it than that. I love being a pilot, Daeven. I don't want to lose my job."
"I understand. I didn't mean to scare you. You deserve to find your peace here, and sometimes my advice comes across a little too strong."
She didn't argue that point. They stayed quiet for a while, eating the food, enjoying the view. While they ate, Daeven reached behind himself to fiddle with something. Soft, gentle music streamed through the air.
"I never would have suspected you as the romantic type." Tamarja packed away her plate.
"Surprising people has its benefits." Daeven rose, using his feet to push one of the food containers to the side. "May I have this dance?"
Tamarja smiled as Daeven pulled her to her feet. He held her close, sliding his hands around her waist and staying there. She in turn reached up to put her hands on his shoulders, leaning into his chest. She didn't know how to dance anymore, if she ever had known, but Daeven seemed content to keep them slowly spinning in a circle.
The song ended, and a deep, soothing voice filled the void. "This next song goes way back, from the beginnings of the Unity colonies. It's dedicated to the young lovers who find happiness on the edge of civilization. This song is for you."
Daeven laughed as they continued to rock and turn to the soft beat. "Joran, you old lupid."
"You didn't ask him to play this?"
"No, I didn't even tell him about meeting you, but he has a way of finding out these things."
"I'm glad he approves."
Daeven shrugged. "More like giving in to the inevitable."
"Ah." Tamarja closed her eyes, snuggling closer, letting the music wash over her. "So you think we're inevitable."
Daeven slipped his hands under her chin and pulled her into another kiss. When they finally drew apart to breathe, he whispered, "I think anything is possible."
They kissed again, this time keeping it long, slow, and sensuous. Contentment washed over her.
The earth-shattering crash and the pressure of displaced atmosphere almost knocked both of them off their feet.
"What the hell?" Both she and Daeven looked up as a huge, dark shadow glided over the roof of Facility Prime.
"By the Stars…" Tamarja covered her ears with her hands as the sound grew louder and the shadow grew larger, blocking out the moonlight, taking shape. "It's a carrier. What the hell is a carrier doing flying so close to the surface?"
The roar of the engines grew impossibly loud as the mammoth ship pulled away from the facility.
"Manitac!" Daeven yelled back. "It must be an inspection. They're early, showing off their muscle. They've never breached the atmosphere before."
The ship continued west. The spaceport, however, lay east. A ship that size in an atmosphere this dense would have to head all the way out to the ocean before it could safely bank and return to port.
Daeven reached to pull one of her hands away from her ears. "We have to leave! Now!"
Before Tamarja could agree, her legs melted. She tried to grab onto Daeven, but she couldn't move her hands. Her legs gave out. She tried to scream, but she had no voice. Daeven caught her.
One horrible, terrified thought screamed through her mind. My collar! They've activated my collar!
Chapter Twenty-Five
The cacophony of the carrier's engines died behind the roar of blood rushing through her ears. Tamarja could only lie there, staring into the crook of Daeven's shoulder as he held her, tears pooling in her eyes. She couldn't even blink them away before they fell down her cheeks, soaking Daeven's shirt. The only aspect that she could control was her breathing. Focusing only on that, she inhaled as much air as she could and released it. Again, she breathed deep and released the air. Over and over again she breathed, and slowly her panic subsided, her heartbeat lessened its pounding.
Her panic somewhat under control, she could now hear Daeven shouting, yelling at whomever he had contacted through his ear jack. She couldn't understand his words; her mind was still jumbled. Why did he sound as scared as she felt? Was it her paralysis or the presence of the Manitac ship that made him so afraid?
Finally, he stopped shouting, his whole body rocking her as he shifted position, crushing her face into his shoulder. He's staying with me. He's not going to leave me here alone, defenseless. He really is trying to protect me, just as he promised. He tried whispering into her ear, but she couldn't understand him, and she tried to tell him that. She could only grunt her displeasure.
His body shifted again, releasing her from his grip. Her whole world turned topsy-turvy as he laid her back, carefully positioning her head so she could stare straight up at the night sky. The stars wavered and twinkled through her tear-filled eyes. Then he disappeared, and her panic returned. Her heartbeat rose as a gentle breeze blew across the deck, plucking at her hair.
She'd never be able to wear this dress again and not remember this. If Daeven didn't know of her prisoner status before, he surely did now. If only the collar could numb her breaking heart so she wouldn't hurt so much on the inside. Of all the ways for him to find out…
She shouldn't have pursued Daeven. She should have known that she couldn't live a normal life. Maybe that w
as part of Manitac's punishment―to force her to watch those without collars live and love, but never be allowed to experience it herself, to have to watch life from outside, but never participate.
"Of course it's not standard procedure." An aggravated voice, not Daeven's, pierced through her depression. She knew that voice, and her embarrassment should have increased, but she was long past caring at this point. "Activating all the prisoner collars at one time accomplishes nothing. And what are you doing dating her in the first place?"
Yohzad filled her view, standing over her, his hands shoved into the pockets of his disheveled Manitac uniform. Something large and shiny was tucked under his arm. She tried to talk to him but couldn't voice the words.
"You still could have warned her. What if she'd been flying?" Daeven demanded, circling around her body. "She'd be dead along with whoever was with her, not to mention anyone on the ground when she crashed."
Daeven's voice had changed. Gone was the man who had tried to show her a romantic night, as well as the frightened man who had shouted into the comm. In his place was a security officer—calm, cool, and thinking of her predicament as it would affect AuRaKaz and the director. Maybe he didn't care as deeply as Tamarja had hoped. The tiny pieces of her heart shattered further.
"Let's not speculate on should-haves right now." With a snort, Yohzad knelt down beside her, tossing his package over her head at Daeven. "Sorry about this, my dear, but you're not the only one in this circumstance tonight. I wish I could reverse the process, but I don't have that authority right now. You'll just have to wait for the paralyzing agent to work itself out of your system."
She couldn't see Daeven from this angle, but she could hear him break open a seal and the crinkling of a wrapper. A moment later, an emergency blanket snapped in the breeze before settling over the lower half of her body. Yohzad reached over her head for the edge of the blanket and pulled it up to her shoulders. Satisfied, Yohzad slowly lifted her head and felt around her neck and shoulders, his fingers rough as they brushed her collar nubs. She groaned as the only bit of sensation she could feel was the sensitive skin contracted around the nubs. His fingers didn't linger there. He slid them up to the back of her head, feeling around the hair caught between her crown and the deck. Another few seconds of groping there, before Yohzad pulled his fingers away.
