by Kim Knox
“Scar?” Rochester pulled at his restraints and stood. “Where are you going?”
“Get Tyler to pilot.” Scar didn’t look back. She needed to get to the exercise room and run Tyler’s Zacetian program. She needed to kill something before the boiling fury burning through her veins sent her insane. “And listen to the message from my mother. Reply and say yes.” She swiped her hand over the door control, willing it to open fast. “We have to leave. Now.”
The door opened before her and she ran.
Chapter Two
“So we’re just dropping the deal because Scar has to go home to meet her betrothed?” Tyler stared at his employer. His old friend had to have gone mad. “Are you serious?”
Iain Rochester frowned, his smooth brow creasing. A sharp glint appeared in his eyes and he pointed to the open cockpit. “Fly the ship, Tyler.”
The muscles in Tyler’s jaw tightened at the dismissal. He stopped himself from saluting. That was a habit he was glad to break. “You’re sure about this?”
Rochester rubbed at his chin. “Do you know who Scar’s stepfather is?”
“Her stepfather?” Tyler was already having a strange day, he didn’t need his employer being odd too. “Iain…?”
He waved Tyler into the cockpit and waited until he’d strapped in and authorised the leaving of Alpha-Columbae-3’s orbit. The cruiser fired and pulled free in a smooth turn. Rochester grabbed the edge of the door, bracing his body until the craft levelled. “Her mother married Oliver Myers.”
Tyler’s hands froze on the console. “He owns planets, Iain. Whole bloody systems.” He plotted the rest of the course to Beta-Ursae-7 on automatic. “Why is Scar here?”
Rochester laughed. “A grunt pilot for a disreputable businessman?”
Tyler’s mouth quirked upwards. “Your words, Iain, but yeah.”
“She likes to fly.” He patted the doorframe, turning away. “And it’s her ship. It’s a convenient illusion to let people think this monster could be mine.”
The cockpit door slid shut, leaving Tyler alone. He relaxed back into the chair and a soft laugh escaped him. Iain Rochester had always been a great liar, had lied his way out of the Corps fifteen years before. Lucky bastard. Rochester almost got him out too. Tyler’s family, military for more generations than was safely sane, had forced the Corps to keep him.
But his friend had kept his word. Now they could work together—
Damn, there was that scent again, the one that had haunted him since he’d signed on with Iain only a week before. Tyler scrubbed a hand over his face. It was everywhere. In the corridors, in his cabin, hell, it had even followed him into the exercise chamber. He groaned, and buried the heels of his hands in his eye sockets. That scent had burned within him and fired the need to glory in the death of his enemy, an act that made him doubt his sanity. The exercise chamber had simulated the blood of the Zacetian, so there’d been no taste, no texture…but somehow he could still feel it, wet and warm on his lips.
“You’re going crazy, Tyler.” He stared out into the deep blackness of space. It was better to go insane in the luxurious life Iain Rochester offered than in the grim brutality of the Corps. He locked off the controls, setting the system to alert. He freed himself from the straps and stared around the curve of the cockpit. So, all of this belonged to Scar. Maybe it was time to ingratiate himself. Forming any connection to a man as wealthy as Oliver Myers was a wise move. He winced. And he needed connections, since his family had disowned him.
The passenger cabin was empty; the heavy couches turned into the room, away from the long windows. Iain was no doubt in his office, smoothing over his sudden departure with some plausible lie. A wry smile pulled at Tyler’s mouth. Saying he’d had an urgent call from Beta-Ursae-7 would probably be enough to impress the pompous idiots with whom they’d dealt.
The door closed behind him and he stared down the long central gangway. Tracking lights edged the floor and spotted the curved ceiling. “Where’s Scar?”
“Pilot Scar is in the exercise chamber,” murmured the computer.
“Why am I not surprised?”
Earlier, as he’d responded to Rochester’s call, she’d stormed past him, her face flushed, curses scorching the air around her. He’d stood back and let the force of nature whirl by. Some days, he wasn’t crazy.
Tyler strode down the corridor. He knew the woman was half Caraniae. And that had been a shock. They’d only negotiated peace with the Caraniae six months before. He’d never met a hybrid. He winced. Her tail was still disturbing, but then tails on humanoids always made him balk. Scar’s was a blunt stump, better than the usual long Caraniae tail, barbed with spikes. He rubbed at his back out of habit. Her tail was better… Just.
The door to the exercise chamber groaned and opened to the ferocious clash and clang of echoing steel. He leaned against the doorframe and watched as Scar took on three armoured drones. She’d stripped down to her underwear, just shorts and a vest. Her unusual skin gleamed in the dim lights.
He had begun to wonder what lay under her unflatteringly padded flight-suits. Tyler smirked. Scar was very…flexible. He pulled his mind back from those thoughts and studied her fighting technique.
She was self-taught, that was obvious with her wild, untempered style, but she had skill. He winced as she hacked the bastard sword into the shoulder of an attacker, fire sparking as she ripped through the metal-organic innards.
Another met the same fate and, with a blurred rush, the last drone crashed to the turned sand. Scar thrust the sword hard into the floor, burying the blade deep. She sank to her knees and her head fell forward, obscuring her face with her wild tangle of dark hair.
“Nice work,” Tyler said, clapping slowly.
Scar’s head snapped up. Something flashed through her green eyes and his chest contracted. It looked like doubt…and then hunger. “What do you want?”
His mouth twisted. “Want to spar with someone you don’t need to kill? That’s a skill too.”
“So you’re trusting me not to kill you?”
He laughed. “I was a commander in the Federal Army Corps. I’m sure you’d try to kill me, Scar. Succeeding, that’s another matter.”
She pushed herself onto her feet, brushing her hair from her face. “They kicked you out, Tyler.” She smirked at him and it was a kick in his gut. Adrenalin surged. What the hell was going on? “For conduct unbecoming to an officer, I believe.”
His mouth thinned. “You investigated me?”
Scar edged around him and his skin prickled. Shifting his body was a reaction to the threat stalking him. Her eyes held him, bright, sharp. There was a brief parting of her lips and she growled. A slow, soft vibration of sound that shot straight down to his balls.
“You expect me to take Rochester’s word for anything?”
The words broke the sudden spell her growl had bound around his body. She was close, so close he could stretch out a hand and trace the curve of her hip. Tyler pushed that thought from his mind. “Very wise.”
“So, what did you do that was so incorrigible, Tyler? What put you in prison?”
Light washed over her and her green eyes sparked. In that moment, Tyler’s hand itched at the absence of a weapon. Her look was pure Caraniae. Predatory. Wicked. “I disobeyed orders.”
“Really?” She slid around him and he fought to stay still. “I thought that the Corps was all about orders.”
He held in a breath as her finger traced a slow slide up his spine. “And what would you know of it, Scar?”
Her fingers teased him and the scar at the base of his spine throbbed. What was she doing? Weren’t they supposed to be fighting? Her light touch circled the scar, burning through the thin material of his shirt. And how the hell did she know it was there? His hands curled into fists and he willed down his erection. He’d come to ingratiate himself, not to have sex with her. Hadn’t he? Right then, he had no idea what he was doing.
“What did they want you to do?”
/>
The insistent pressure at the base of his spine had his blood on fire. Damn it. He grabbed her and in one fluid movement, threw her on her back into the sand. Air burst out of her lungs and he straddled her hips, leaning in close. He pinned her arms to the sand and pressed into the softness of her body. His words were no more than a growl. “Do you really want to know?”
Her face flushed, her mouth parting as her chest lifted in quick breaths. Green eyes gleamed. Yes, he’d turned her on. “Are we sparring now, Tyler?”
There was that scent again, wrapping around him, consuming him. He breathed it in, breathed her in. Her, the scent was Scar. “Yes.” His tongue tip traced the edge of her jaw. Scar shivered. Her wild pulse throbbed under his mouth and he ached with the need to bite, to mark her, to make her his. “Just not in the way I expected.”
“What do you plan to do, Tyler?”
Something twisted in her voice that he couldn’t name and it tightened his gut. Her warm breath brushed his cheek as he met her gaze. Need sparked there. He ground against her pelvic bone and blood rushed south when she pushed hard against him. This was wrong. So wrong. Sex with Caraniae females was a major breach of regulations…but he wasn’t in the Corps anymore. “What do you want me to do?”
She smiled that wicked Caraniae smile. Her strong thighs gripped him and before he knew exactly how, he was on his back. Surprise had worked his grip free and now she pinned his arms to the cool sand. “You disobeyed orders. How?”
“That’s not what I thought you’d ask.”
She smirked. “Satisfy my curiosity first.”
Time for the sanitised truth, the woman was half-Caraniae after all. “There was a suspected nest. We went in.” The Corps had ordered an atrocity at Vistern Ridge. With the end of the war, they’d buried that order and his career. Tyler pushed back the memories; they were a part of his old life. “I refused to authorise the clean up.”
“And that’s a euphemism for…?”
The muscles in his jaw tightened. “It’s not open for discussion.”
Scar leaned forward, pressing deliciously along his erection. Her mouth hovered over his, her lips almost touching. Just a simple tilt of his head would— “Want to discuss it now?”
“Why are you pressing this?”
“What? This?” And she shifted her hips in a slow slide that had him involuntarily thrusting up to meet her. “So…why are you here, Tyler?”
She was still asking him questions. Why the hell was she still asking him questions? “Scar…?”
“Rochester told you who my stepfather is, didn’t he?”
Tyler held down a curse. Sparring with her would’ve seemed natural. Throwing her on her back and offering her whatever she wanted…yes, didn’t he look obvious now? “He mentioned it in passing.”
Scar’s expression was unreadable as she sat up. The friction made him wince. His erection mocked him. “And you just thought you’d drop by, say hello, curry favour?” She wiggled and he sucked in a breath. “Offer me this?”
“That wasn’t planned.”
Her mouth twisted and there was a hardness to her eyes, hiding…what? He wanted to label it nerves, but that would be crazy.
“An unexpected bonus?”
“Scar…”
She leapt up with an unnatural agility and offered her hand. “Let me try not to kill you.”
Tyler grabbed her hand and she pulled him effortlessly to his feet. “Suddenly this is not a good idea.”
“Really?”
Tyler shucked off his jacket and threw it beyond the edge of the arena. His fingers moved to his shirt and stopped. What was he doing? A fight felt more real, more immediate to him when air brushed his skin. But now, that would be so very wrong. He kicked off his boots and pulled at his socks instead. His toes curled into the warming sand.
“Finished?” Scar lifted an eyebrow. “Can we fight now?”
“Impatient for me to beat you?”
She burst forward, but he stopped her attempt to grab him, blocking her with a palm-strike. Dropping, she tried to strike him. Another block. She swung around and struck out again. She was quick, fast and strong. It was fun to play with her—
“You’re grinning. Think this is funny?” She growled and his balls tightened.
He staggered at the kick to his shin. She leapt, crashing him to the sand, and ripped at his shirt. She nipped at his neck with her teeth and Tyler’s vision blurred. Blood raced south. Her scent burned through him and he tugged at her undershirt, the thin cotton tearing across her back.
“Ah, so that’s what you want to play.” Her lips brushed against his throat, searing the words into his skin.
His hands slid down her spine and found her tail curling tight around his right wrist. It squeezed hard. “Scar…” He couldn’t help the low, warning snarl. “This is not playing fair.”
She lifted her head and grinned at him. “I want to fight, not fuck, Tyler.”
She whipped free of him, standing back, her body loose and ready to attack him again. Tyler rolled to his feet and tried to keep his eyes off her small, firm and now very exposed breasts. Fire flickered under his skin and the only thought that consumed him was his need to get her shorts off. Some insane voice in the back of his head screamed that she had to be naked. And so should he.
“Shall we make this interesting?”
Her green eyes narrowed as she edged around him, matching his movements. “Interesting, how?”
“You take a fall, you lose clothing.”
Scar stared down at her body. She looked back up at him from under her lashes, her eyebrow lifting. “I only have these. You have trousers and underwear. What say we make it even first?”
Tyler paused, to give the illusion that he was reluctant. But that small voice wanted his fingers to fly. His mouth pursed. “Fine.” And his trousers pooled at his feet. He threw them and both of their shredded shirts out of the arena. “Happy?”
Her smile was wicked. “When you’re on your back, I will be.”
His cock twitched. Her scent drifted above the sterile odour of the filtered air and the dryness of the sand, something sweet and intoxicating. His chest tightened. He wanted her—
Scar’s foot connected with his knee and he grunted. Muscle instinct took over and he grabbed her arm, yanking her forward and kicking out her legs. She thumped into the sand, face down. Tyler straddled her thighs. “One for me, I think,” he murmured. His fingers slid down her spine, easing over her ribs until he reached her hips. He hooked a finger into her shorts and twanged them.
“Okay, you got this one,” she muttered and he was certain there was a curse mixed in under her breath. “But after I get you…” her head turned and bright green eyes speared him, “…and I will, then the one who beats the other into submission is the winner. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Tyler murmured. “Now I take my reward.”
He pulled at her shorts, slowly curling the smooth fabric from her alabaster-stained skin. He slid his erection over the cleft of her buttocks. She groaned and lifted her hips from the sand. Her sweet scent had him dizzy and aching. He pulled the shorts further, his fingers slipping deliberately through her short tangle of dark hair. She was wet, so very wet.
Scar mewled and pushed against his searching fingers.
He could take her, pound into her willing flesh and give them the release they both needed. But something held him back. Now wasn’t…right. He slid his fingers free and Scar cursed him. He smiled and kissed both cheeks. “No. You’re here to fight, remember?”
Her strong thighs gripped him, scissored him, and with a whoomph of air from his lungs, he was on his back. “I remember.” She grinned and ran a fingernail down his chest. Tyler swallowed, watching her pull his shorts over his straining cock. Her finger traced around its base and tension tightened his gut.
Scar leaned over him, her wicked eyes never leaving his, and placed a delicate kiss on the sensitive head. His blood pounded and he ached to thrust into her
sweet—
She leapt away laughing and he cursed her.
“Fighting?” she said.
“If that’s what you want.” His low snarl had her swallowing and her hands flexed. Now was the time; now was right. He stalked her. She was his. He broke through her palm-strikes, her rapid attempts to block him. She was his and he would prove it.
In one move, he had her. Sweating, he pinned her up against the smooth wall. “Surrender.” A snarl curled around the word. “Now.”
Scar fought for breath, her marbled skin still flushed. “Make me.” Her eyes sparked and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her satin-smooth thighs crushed against his hips. Tyler could take her, bury himself deep and mark Scar as his own. Because she was his. Body and soul.
The insane voice screamed at him to do it. Mate with the woman…who was returning to meet her betrothed.
A cold rush slid down his spine and doused the need consuming his body.
“This is insane.” Tyler shook off the stupidly primitive thoughts. He slid his hands over her warm thighs and eased them down. Stepping back from her, he turned his attention to finding his clothes. Well, what was left of them.
“So that’s it?”
Tyler found his underwear, picked up his trousers. He made himself look at her. The intricate marbling of her skin had faded in the fierce wash of the single light and her green eyes gleamed with fury. All blood travelled south. His throat dried and he wanted nothing more than to push her hard up against that wall and make her his. He swallowed. Not going to happen. “It?” he asked and lifted an eyebrow.
His deliberate obtuseness caused her skin to flush and her hands tightened into fists. “This is not leaving me with a favourable impression, Tyler.”
He laughed and gathered the remaining tatters of the rest of his clothing. “You’re heading to your home planet for your wedding, Scar. Do you really think I’m insane enough to go up against your stepfather’s power and your Caraniae father’s wishes?” He palmed the initiator built into the wall and dumped the torn clothes into its recycling unit. “Mental impairment wasn’t on my discharge orders.” Well, that was a lie, but he didn’t have to admit that to her. He ran a hand through his damp hair. “Let’s forget about this, shall we?”
