The bunk dipped as his weight left it, leaving her curiously chilled. As if he read her mind, Vayne flipped the covering over her.
“Are you able to wait until I cleanse?”
“Yes.” She really had to pee, but she was damned if she’d fall victim to any kind of syndrome, aware of how a twisted relationship could develop between kidnapper and the kidnapped, based on pathetic need and gratitude for the slightest kindness. She would never again fall into that trap.
“I require your respect, little…Neira.”
Damn. He’d just undermined her, giving in to her request from the night before not to call her any pet names. And she hadn’t missed the subtle, silky threat of correction when she’d sworn at him the previous evening, either. This man—this alien—wasn’t to be trifled with or pushed too far. She had much to learn about him. Long gone were the days when she thought she could escape on her own or evade with merely her physical skills. Being a prisoner of war taught a harsh lesson, and one she’d take to her grave.
With an effort, not entirely feigned, considering the energy expended outside the lift on the Astris after months away from soldiering, Neira rolled over and looked him square in the eye. It was like taking a punch to the gut. The sovereign seemed even taller than the day before, and his muscled chest flowed easily into a flat, corded abdomen and long, equally muscled legs. Maybe his feet were toad ugly. She tried to skip over the evidence of his blatant masculinity but was unable to look away from his wide cock slapping unashamed at his belly, heavy sac drawn up beneath it. He’d shucked his garment before bed, or in the night. It struck her how…human he appeared, if larger than life. She supposed she wanted to see some definite differences, the better to set him apart from her.
Her own sex expressed its interest and appreciation, responding to this unapologetic male, dampening and plumping despite the direction from her brain to cease and desist. Had it been that long since she’d had a sexual relationship? It had. And for damn good reason. While she had the vagrant thought that something she had never thought to feel again had awoken in her, Neira worked hard at convincing herself any hot body would bring about the same response. And while she was at it, she tried to craft a verbal one with respect as its filler.
“I’m fine, thank you. I can wait. Sir.” The sarcasm was faint and she wondered if he heard it.
With a grave nod, Vayne nodded and turned away, but not before she saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes. The bugger had set her up. Well, she was human. And he wasn’t.
That sudden reminder took her breath. He was Shadalla. And royalty to boot. Sure, he looked like most human men, yet on that grander, larger scale, his cock included. But his features were ever-so-slightly suggestive of something else. Something different. Neira struggled to hold on to the impression, but it skittered away. The rumors and supposed facts flooded her forebrain but were too fragmented to sort through, especially under the impact of this virile male. All her briefings had been comprised of pertinent military information, without the gossipy snippets to flesh things out, and aside from the ribald sexual comments, mostly speculation. Almost as if her superiors hadn’t wanted the troops to see the Shadalla as anything other than an arm’s length ally. She hadn’t been old enough to be in the actual war with the aliens before they signed the treaty and joined with Earth against the Juxtant, and she’d never fought alongside any.
The sovereign was indeed handsome, with rough-hewn cheekbones, a strong nose, and chiseled lips. His eyes were set widely, thickly lashed, and of a peculiar shade of blue. She was no girly girl and had limited experience with fashion and other such items outside of her military life, but Neira had seen the blue of the last pure sea on the Home World before the toxic blasts, and she thought Vayne’s eyes could be compared to that. Turquoise, maybe, with flecks of— Shit! She was supposed to be trying to form an understanding of something that had teased at her well-honed senses, not go all loopy and start envisioning the alien as some kind of poster boy or something.
Her thoughts turned to the other women on board, and she wondered what their fate might be. Vayne hadn’t touched her, personally, if one didn’t count the press of his body against hers, probably all night long. Every time she woke, he was there and there’d been no space to retreat to, so she’d endured, at last sleeping deeply and well. But that didn’t mean the rest of the female passengers weren’t even now being ravished. Used. Despite his statement that there wouldn’t be any breeding, at least not immediately. And just what the hell had that meant?
The bleak memory of her other prisoner-of-war situation flirted at the edge of her conscious mind but she refused to allow it access. The Home World, Earth to many, wasn’t at war with anyone—at the moment—and was barely able to protect itself as it was, should there be another invasion. Not that they were advertising that fact. So she and the others wouldn’t technically be considered prisoners, merely replaceable workers. And unless one or more of them had any ties to important persons back home, well, it was unlikely any rescue attempt would be mounted. If the businessmen who lost their cargo were inclined to seek out the perpetrators, Neira figured it would be the pirates they’d be searching for. Besides, the Shadalla were allies. There was a treaty. Right. They wouldn’t even be considered prisoners of war to be ransomed.
With an irritable sigh, she eased into a more comfortable position and stared at the hull. This ship wasn’t that different than the Astris, if a lot smaller, with curved outer walls and no portholes to be seen. Vayne’s cabin was larger than her quarters on the disabled ship but as Spartan in its amenities. One would have thought royalty would’ve been entitled to something far more luxurious. The bed was comfortable, but it was hardly spacious. The new reminder of how she and her kidnapper had been pressed together so closely in the night made her cheeks heat, and she impatiently thrust that aside as well. He’d already told her what her future held, and she’d do well to be formulating a plan to foil him. She was no broodmare, although her fertility hadn’t been compromised as far as she knew, despite what…don’t go there, Neira. Just don’t. She simply had no interest in a husband, let alone a kidnapping, alien husband. She had no emotional interest in sex, truth to be told, and no recent physical interest, even if Vayne was sex on the proverbial stick.
“I will arrange for another meal.”
Her heart thumped in her chest. She hadn’t heard him approach, and that frightened her. What scared her more was the way her skin prickled at his proximity. She stared at him, determined not to show anything other than implacable calm. She donned her battle face, and thought she might have managed it, despite how his bare chest drew her eyes like a magnet. All that rippling muscle and golden skin… She swallowed, her mouth dry as dust, and fought against the weakness invading her. What on Earth? That’s the point, Neira. He is nothing on Earth and it stands to reason there is something else operating here to attract you.
Now wearing what passed for underwear, Vayne somehow looked more naked than when he’d sauntered, totally nude, to the cleansing chamber. As in the night before, the garment sat low on his narrow hips, drawing attention to that ridge of muscle only very fit humanoid males developed. And in turn, that V shape drew the eye to what the fabric covered. Neira resolutely dragged her gaze up to his face—and the dagger he held pinched between two fingers of the hand resting up against the doorframe.
“If you care to use the facilities now, Neira…” She supposed there was no need for any more conversation. She was damned if she’d acknowledge the small weapon, annoyed with herself for not having hidden it better. She was also certain he would have accepted her attempt at such subterfuge. All prisoners reserved the right to try and escape. It was an unwritten rule across cultures—species—although the reaction to the attempts varied. The sovereign’s body language didn’t denote any violent intent, so she relaxed, a little surprised she could read him so well.
With a nod, she shifted to allow him access to the cuffs, watching him set the dagger dow
n across the room.
“I’ll store this with your interesting baton, little warrior. At some point they’ll be returned to you, and perhaps you’ll spar with me.”
Biting her cheek to stave off an unconsidered response, like saying she’d take that opportunity to beat the ever-loving shit out of him, she concentrated on keeping space between them as he freed her. But she couldn’t avoid the feather light trace of calloused fingertips down her forearms that made her want to shiver. And when he rubbed her wrists where the cuffs had caused some slight reddening, she had to bite harder to control a more visceral reaction.
She reminded her body again that any attractive male could take the edge off, if pure fucking was suddenly back on her menu, and that this one wanted far more than she was prepared to offer. Or was capable of, for that matter. Neira was desperately aware of her own fragile emotional state. She was totally unsuited to be anyone’s lifemate, let alone a mother.
She tugged free and slid past him, unsure if he’d allow it, and wondering what she would do if he didn’t. He was definitely having some kind of effect on her, and the loss of control made her want to scream. If she did that she wouldn’t be able to stop. The breath she didn’t know she’d been holding huffed out of her in an audible whoosh. She gained the cleansing room without any interference and huddled on the commode, shaking with repressed adrenaline and hoping Vayne wouldn’t invade her privacy.
At length she regrouped and, after a wary look at the door, examined her face in the polished metal above the small sink. She could see it. The terrified, frantic animal behind the façade she’d painstakingly rebuilt after the team had stumbled upon her and Alexi Petrov. It had taken months of self-discipline and military-enforced therapeutic input to regain herself, or at least what passed for Neira Grekov. The therapy itself, with the intrusive machines and psychotropic medications, had been nearly as bad as what she’d experienced at the hands of the Juxtant. Maybe worse, because she well knew her former bosses weren’t interested in her recovery so much as painting a soothing public relations picture. But they’d succeeded in repressing her memories, or at the very least giving her the tools to combat them—until now.
If those vids featuring her rescue and subsequent return to the Home World hadn’t been splashed across the tabloids, she had no doubt she’d be in the same place as Petrov. Put down like an animal beyond hope and buried deep. Instead, she’d been the poster child for the military for a brief time, a hero, the prodigal daughter, all those terms to make the public feel warm and reassured. Alexi Petrov hadn’t even been noticed as they featured her as the commander in the trenches of that final push against the Juxtant. One of theirs brought home from the enemy to the bosom of her soldier family, to be treated and cured. Healed. Right.
Securing her discharge had been a dance, orchestrated with the aid of a very skilled military lawyer and the threat of the truth coming out. The threat of certain hidden away materials to be released to the press should the military refuse to let her go. She would be eternally grateful to the friends she still retained among the ranks and the way they stood by her—and organized and documented the evidence for her to utilize if the need arose. She still felt guilty for using the evidence of Alexi’s murder at the order of her superiors to secure her own escape, but the alternative forced her hand. There was no way she could have stayed in that life and be reminded each and every day of her failure.
Her disappearance from the Astris would create considerable relief across the board, and this time her superiors would keep a lid on the news. No one would even know she was gone. The frightened part of her blinked out, cast back into the shadows. Following that relief, utter sadness overwhelmed her.
“Neira?”
His voice interrupted the painful trip down memory lane and headed off a very probable topple into the abyss. Being taken and held against her will was indeed unlocking all the carefully locked and guarded doors and dismantling her shields. Kidnapped…and something else she couldn’t seem to defend against, at least not until she successfully identified it. But it definitely was emanating from this Shadalla and she was losing control. What if that frightened part escaped its binds?
“I’ll be right out.”
The face regarding her above the sink cracked in a twisted smile. So domestic. So accommodating. I’ll be right out. Darling. Sweetheart. Like she had any choice. The feeling of being powerless gnawed at her and on impulse she hammered both hands against her thighs, the dull pain serving to ground her as she curled her toes against the floor. She sucked in two huge draughts of air and straightened her spine. She was made of sterner stuff than this.
Vayne regarded her from an indolent pose near the bunk as she entered his quarters. She could see the sexual interest written large across his handsome face, and once again that feminine part of her tried to escape her sensible side. At least he was dressed—in the same style of uniform he affected the previous day, though his boots were different. The new footwear was more suited for space travel than for boarding vessels that might have lost their gravitational integrity, she supposed.
Her nudity had never bothered her before. She’d been naked around both men and women in barracks and in the showers for much of her career. And she’d been kept mostly naked as a captive, basic confinement 101, something she’d been trained to endure, along with other things. Things she didn’t care to think about. Things that had actually happened, in addition to other forms of torture no one had considered. But she was absurdly aware of how unclothed she felt in front of this male. Not vulnerable, exactly, certainly not humiliated, so she supposed unsettled was the best way to describe it. He made her feel very aware of herself as a woman, and that wouldn’t do.
With her head high, she met his stare and watched those turquoise-blue eyes shimmer with refracted light before they darkened in a manner that made her twitch. He nodded at the bunk and she forced herself to look in that direction. The coverings were pulled up and tucked in tightly, and she thought perhaps a servant had attended him while she was having her mini breakdown in the latrine. Because surely a sovereign didn’t stoop to such mundane tasks.
“Please sit,” he invited, and she skirted him, hopefully without being too obvious about it, to perch on the edge of the mattress. His scent and heat enveloped her as he leaned to tether her wrists yet again. It was getting old, but she was damned if she’d let him think it bothered her. Better he come to allow her freedom on his own when she could use the element of surprise. Surely at some point he would relax his guard.
Vayne kept his gaze on her face, but she was only too aware of the way his underclothing tented over an enormous erection.
To distract herself, she said, “I’m hungry.”
“You didn’t eat much yesterday,” he agreed. He reached to a tray on the small table. It spoke to how distracting he was that she hadn’t even noticed the food. He offered up a folded piece of a bread-like substance. Bright red fruit coated the end, and her taste buds salivated in anticipation.
With her hands secured, it was awkward to reach for the sustenance, and to her surprise he placed the offering against her lips. Feeling remarkably like a child being fed by a doting parent, she nipped at the food and nearly closed her eyes in joy when the taste of something quite like fresh strawberries burst over her tongue.
The sovereign smiled and tucked another piece between her parted lips. “It’s my favorite too, Neira. We are able to grow the fruit in abundance in certain areas on Nibiru.”
She swallowed and managed not to smile back, wishing she could feed herself. Undeterred, he continued to provide her with mouthfuls of the bread and preserve, balanced with sips of a hot beverage that tasted a lot like strong, sweet tea. He didn’t touch his own dish until he was assured she was full, and she strove to keep her guard up. Her kidnapper wasn’t going to soften her resolve by caring for her.
“I would like to spend the day getting to know you.”
She could refuse, she supposed. Refuse to
cooperate in any way, but then she might lose an opportunity to learn something that could conceivably lead to escape at some point, if not deter him from his goal. She nodded, working hard at not seeing how the pleased grin he gave her added immeasurably to his attractiveness. Were her brains turning to mush?
And so began the dance. It reminded Neira of a preliminary interrogation, one she turned out to be on the wrong side of—again. But she parried and deflected all his questions, from one as simple as a request for her last name, to one inquiring about her family. The latter pricked a little bubble of pain and regret. Being an orphan and having lost track of her two younger sisters during the war wasn’t something she wanted to think, or talk, about. It was interesting that she couldn’t drum up a sense of outrage against Vayne and the role his kind had played in that war. She hated her superiors far more, especially when it had come to light how the powers that be had refused the hand the Shadalla offered in friendship and initially attacked, instead. Xenophobic bastards, all of them.
“What can it hurt to tell me your last name, Neira? And share about your family?”
“I’ve told you, Sovereign. I’m your prisoner and the less you know about me, the better. I have no interest in sharing anything as personal as my family with you.”
His affable mask slipped, and she tensed inwardly, waiting for the punishment she anticipated, but she saw only mild frustration. “Then perhaps you have questions of me.”
“Why can’t I have my clothes?”
The way his stare slipped over her body caused a quiver, and her core heated enough to make her thighs flex in an effort to contain her arousal. There was nothing she could do about her beading nipples.
Vanquished Page 5
