by Mina Carter
He moved slightly, taking charge of their movements, and reached out for the soap dispenser on the wall. Dumping a load into his hand, he slowly began to wash the blood from her skin. She let him, which both broke his heart and gave him a deep sense of satisfaction that he could care for her in this way. When it came to her breasts, though, he faltered. To touch her so intimately, even though he wanted to… ached to… was crossing a line.
“Kelarris,” he murmured, smoothing some soap into her hands and then guiding them up her body, “you need to help me here. I can’t touch you like that. Wash yourself and then we can get dry.”
She nodded, obeying his commands with slow movements he tried like hell not to watch. Maybe a stronger man would have been able to look away, step away, as she slicked soap over herself and then turned to wash it all away. Her hands smoothed downward, starting to push her panties over her hips, and his nerve broke. He couldn’t stay and watch her touch herself… down there.
“I will get the towels,” he managed on a gasp. “I’ll be back before you finish up.”
Stumbling from the shower, he stood with his back to her. It was a test, he decided, his chest heaving as he stood there—one he would pass. Closing his eyes, he got himself under control and straightened up. By the time he returned to the shower, even though she was naked, he managed to look at her with a neutral eye, noting the bruises and marks over her delicate skin as a result of the fight. Just the sight of them angered him, but he kept the rage in check and held the towel open as she stepped out of the shower, wrapping her in it.
“Come on,” he murmured, leading her back into the bedroom. “You need to sleep.”
7
Nyek had looked after her.
Indra stood on the hangar bay deck, her arms wrapped around herself as she watched the lean alien warrior out of the corner of her eye. He was less than ten feet away, organizing a group of warriors loading supplies onto three shuttles.
“I don’t see why we all have to leave,” Gracie whispered next to her. “I mean, Madison is staying, so there’s going to be at least one human on board. Why do the rest of us have to go?”
“Because,” Nyek said as he walked back over to them. “Lady Madison will be guarded by the war commander’s most senior warriors. Warriors he has known practically from the cradle, who will utterly crush anyone who decides to make a move on the lady.”
Indra frowned. “You plan to use her as bait. Does she know this?”
He lifted an eyebrow, looking at her steadily. Seeing him now, she wouldn’t have guessed that somewhere under that formal manner and speech was the gentle man who had cared for her last night. He hadn’t mentioned it, at all. Not taking her back to his quarters, nor holding her upright in the shower as he washed her, and he certainly hadn’t mentioned letting her sleep held safely in his arms under the beautiful view of the stars above.
In fact, as soon as they’d left his quarters this morning, it was like it had never happened. Which was fine with her, she decided, wrapping the jacket he’d given her tighter around herself. He’d seen her at her most vulnerable and she hated that. Hated that anyone had seen her like that. Being vulnerable meant being weak, and she couldn’t afford to be weak. The weak were taken advantage of and she was not someone anyone took advantage of.
He could have taken advantage last night, but he didn’t, the little voice in the back of her head reminded. He hadn’t even touched her… not like that, stepping from the shower to let her wash herself. She shook her head to dispel the thought. It didn’t matter. He would never see her that vulnerable again.
“It was the lady’s own idea,” he replied, his voice level and calm. “And with all resources dedicated to keeping her safe, it was decided that for the rest of you, the safest option would be to remove you from the ship completely.”
“I can see that,” Keris said, her metal feet almost soundless on the deck as she joined them. For an entity made entirely of metal, Indra had no idea how she managed to move so soundlessly. “It creates just one target for the hostiles and protects the rest of you.”
“Protects us? Have you seen these tin cans?” Gracie wrinkled her nose as she pointed to the shuttles in front of them. “What if we come across more Krin?”
“Shhhh shhh,” the big warrior who had become Gracie’s shadow over the last few days said soothingly. “We’re way too far out for Krin. You’ll be safe. I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”
Indra rolled her eyes as the two made cow-eyes at each other. “Sheesh, why don’t you two just get a damn room?” she muttered and then looked at Nyek. “Please do not put me on the same shuttle as the happy couple here. I don’t think my barf reflex could take it.”
He shifted his gaze from them to her, his dark eyes implacable. “No indeed. Warrior K’Vass will take one shuttle with Lady Gracie. Warrior… M’rln,” he inclined his head toward Keris, “will accompany the human male, Stephens, in another and you will join me in the last shuttle.”
She pursed her lips but then nodded finally. He still had a stick up his ass, but, yeah… she wasn’t stupid enough not to realize he was a damn good warrior. She ignored the fact she’d turned to him and huffed.
“So, what? We get to hang out on the dark side of the moon and chill for a while until the mother ship gets this shit sorted?”
He frowned and then shook his head. “I assume that collection of words actually means something to humans but, unfortunately, the Lathar hold to a higher grasp of language and sentence construction. We will be taking the shuttles and searching a nearby system for something that requires retrieval. Since the mission is off the books and highly classified, there is no record of it in the imperial system, and thus no way for anyone to know where we are headed.”
“Huh.” Indra grunted. “So we’re now doing the empire’s dirty work. Are we? Do we get paid for this… or at least get snazzy uniforms?” She looked at her fellow humans. “We should at least get uniforms. Don’tcha think?”
Anger flared in the backs of Nyek’s eyes for a second and she bit back her smile. So Mr. Stick-up-his-ass did have some buttons she could push. She’d been wondering what would knock him off his implacable pedestal. The need to niggle at him drove her relentlessly. She wanted to see him snap and lash out… something. She needed to see him lose control, like she had, and be vulnerable.
At least then she wouldn’t be the only one.
His gaze dropped down to the jacket she had wrapped around her.
“You already have my jacket,” he informed her, arching his eyebrow. “Perhaps you would like me to remove the rest for you?”
Her mouth dropped open, ready to throw something waspish back at him, but heat rose on her cheeks and the words froze in her mouth.
“Fine. I’ll get on the damn shuttle.”
She huffed to herself as she stalked toward a shuttle. Fucking pain in the ass alien. She’d show him. She’d sleep the entire journey and snore. Or play finger drums on the copilot’s station or something. She was excellent at being irritating and she’d had plenty of practice.
“The other one. On the left,” he called out, amusement in that sardonic drawl.
“Wanker,” she hissed under her breath, flipping him the bird over her shoulder and altering course to climb aboard the correct shuttle.
Flopping down into one of the seats in the cockpit, she closed her eyes and wrapped the jacket tighter around herself. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye, but she hastily dashed it away.
He was a wanker. A pain in the ass, sexy, gentle, made her feel safe… wanker.
And she had no clue what to do about it.
Human females were the most frustrating things in existence.
Nyek sighed softly as he slid a glance sideways to the female curled up in the seat next to him. With how tiny she was, and her knees curled up to her chest, she looked like a child wrapped up in her father’s jacket.
His gaze flicked to it. He didn’t feel like her father—anything but. H
eat and possessiveness rolled through him at the sight of her in his clothes, a strange ache in the center of his chest he kept rubbing with the heel of his hand. He had no idea what had prompted him to give her his secondary combat jacket.
All resources were available for the humans, so he could have requested something from the stores as he had the ship suit and other garments she wore. For some reason, though, when she’d mentioned being cold, it had felt right to wrap her in the battered and worn leather. But, he reasoned, that had been when she’d still been all soft and pliant, her shock from the attack making her turn to him for comfort and aid.
Slouched in the pilot’s seat, he watched the autopilot absently and sighed, closing his eyes. Instantly the memory of the night before filled his mind. She had slept in his arms, her slender form tucked in tightly against him. It had been heaven and hell all rolled into one. He’d never slept with anyone in his bed, never wanted to… hells, he’d never touched a female intimately. Ever… but with her, it had felt right. Her head resting on his shoulder, that little hand of hers over his heart, even the way she’d curled her cold feet against the warmth of his calf. Admittedly, he’d jumped a little at the last, drawn out of sleep, but it had been worth it to feel the way she’d snuggled into him, a soft and contented sigh escaping her that he’d imprinted on his memory forever.
No… it hadn’t been hell. It had been heaven. One he hadn’t… didn’t deserve. One he should put in the past where it belonged. She certainly had. Opening his eyes, he looked over at Indra again. From the moment they’d left his quarters this morning, she’d pulled more than his jacket around her as armor. The sharpness was back and she looked at him like he was a gnotar just crawled out from under a rock. In one way, he was glad to see her back in fighting form and in another… he missed the softer female he’d only had a glimpse of. Which was the real Indra?
Before he could ponder that question further, the comms array announced an incoming message. “Sub-Commander, we are approaching the search coordinates.” Keris M’rln’s “face” appeared on screen.
Nyek managed to keep his expression neutral. But only just. When the General had mentioned he had a daughter aboard the Izal’vias, Nyek had assumed the female would be a foundling, not an AI in an illegal avatar-body. His skin had crawled at the very notion. AIs were banned from taking anything approaching human form, had been for decades after one had developed a critical systems failure and started a massacre.
Apparently this one had saved a colony from a Krin and gotten special dispensation from the emperor for its current body. That still didn’t stop the hairs raising on the back of his neck every time it was near him or others. He was glad it was stuck on its own ship, the only other passenger the human male. If it went crazy, the human would die, but at least he was male and not a precious female. The Lathar had more than enough males that his death would not be a great loss.
“We are,” he confirmed, triggering a call to the third shuttle with Seren K’Vass and his little female. The screen split again, showing the other warrior’s face. “We will part ways here, search our respective areas and then return to these coordinates in two days’ time.”
“Yes, sir,” they chorused and he nodded.
“Excellent. S’Vaan out.”
Cutting the comm, he input the flight vector to take them to their own search area and hit the engines. The computer confirmed the change, the screen in front of him tracking both their flight path and the new paths of the two other shuttles as they headed off. A small sigh escaped him. Now it was just the two of them.
Surely he could handle one spikey little human female? Especially one who was asleep. He cast her another glance. Yeah, no trouble at all. She was as quiet as a gethal, still asleep.
Making sure the controls were on autopilot, he took the opportunity to slide from his seat and walk into the main cabin of the shuttle. Like most of this class, the furniture was modular and built into the walls, which meant the space was multifunctional. At the touch of a button it could become a bedroom, seating for a squad of troops or, as it was now, an empty space.
Stripping off his combat jacket and sash, he stood in the middle of the space and adopted the first stance of the diraanesh. Closing his eyes, he cleared his mind and took a few deep, cleansing breaths. Then he started to move. His movements were automatic, sliding from the first position into the second and then the third. Easily he moved through the routine at a slow, steady pace, holding each position for a few seconds before moving onto the next. Each movement of his body was controlled and precise. The diraanesh was as much meditation as it was combat training, and true masters of the technique were lethal.
Although he’d officially attained his mastery years ago, the honor marked on his leathers, he knew in his heart of hearts he was still only an acolyte. Others might consider him dangerous, a paladin and a master of Diraan… but each time the master laid his mind bare before the goddess, he realized how small a cog in the machine he was. It was humbling, something that prick of a K’Saan prince needed a taste of.
Hissing in irritation that he’d allowed unwanted thoughts to intrude on his meditation, he started again. Closing his eyes and opening his mind, he was aware of everything—his body, the blood rushing through his veins, the air around him pressing against his skin…
The tiny little sobs coming from the cockpit.
Alarmed, his eyes shot open and he looked that way. Indra hadn’t moved, of that much he was sure. With the heightened state of his senses from the diraanesh, he would have heard if she’d so much as moved a muscle.
The sounds came again and his brows snapped together. She was crying. Definitely crying. Striding toward the cockpit, he put his hand on the back of her seat and carefully peered over.
She was still asleep, but tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as she made the heart-rending little sounds again. She was having a nightmare. With a soft murmur so he didn’t wake her, he reached over and lifted her, turning to sit back in the pilot’s seat with her in his lap.
“Shhh,” he murmured as he held her close. “You’re safe. I am here.”
Just the sound of his voice seemed to calm her down. Her cries softened and she relaxed against him. Gently, he reached out and smoothed the errant curls from her face. It started out as a purely functional move, but then he became fascinated by the feel of them against his skin. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, with tiny, tight curls that hugged his fingers. They were silky, not coarse as he’d expected, and so soft. Like her skin. Like everything about her, other than her attitude. Why did she fascinate him so?
8
Indra snapped awake to find herself in Nyek’s lap, his hand in her hair. With a gasp, she bolted, surging out of his arms and across the cockpit to slam into the chair she’d fallen asleep in.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, curling up defensively. Sure, she’d slept with him all last night, but that had been different. She’d been out of it, her mind shut down because of the attack.
He held his hands up in surrender, keeping his movements still as he watched her like someone would watch a startled animal. She hated that. Hated being treated like something delicate and hysterical. Even if she was.
“You were having a nightmare. I was trying to help.”
His low, deep voice was soothing and so damn logical it irritated her all the more.
“Well, don’t,” she snapped. “I didn’t ask you to. And don’t think just because I slept with you last night means anything, either. I’ll sleep with whoever I like, whenever I like. None of this mating or claiming business you Lathar keep banging on about.”
If she’d wanted to get a reaction from him, she certainly had now. His expression tightened, anger flaring in his eyes.
“Who else have you slept with on the ship?” he demanded, moving quicker than she’d ever seen anyone move to loom over her. “Which males? One male… more than one? How many?”
His fury was something
to behold, exploding from the calm, somewhat formal and sardonic manner she was accustomed to. This time it was far worse than the time he’d been angry in the corridor. Her mouth opened and closed silently as her need to say something warred with her survival instincts.
“It’s that human. Isn’t it?” He snarled, grabbing her arm and yanking her upright. “Stephens? He’s the one. Isn’t he?”
That and the pain of his grip on her upper arm managed to break through her unwitting silence.
“Stephens? Mr. Marine? Give me a fucking break.” With a harsh laugh, she tore herself free from his grasp and then got all up in his face. “You think I’ve been sleeping with Stephens? When there are so many sexy Lathar about?”
His snarl was low and dangerous, setting the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She was baiting the bear, a very dangerous, alien bear, but she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was push and lash out, shatter his composure as hers had been shattered last night.
“Which Lathar?” he growled, moving closer until she was pressed against the back of the seat, his arms on the top and sides of the chair pinning her in place. It was a position of weakness but she ignored the danger. No position was weak unless you thought it was.
“Does it matter? All of them!” she threw back. “Boy, you leather-clad boys sure are kinky. Aren’tcha? You sure know how to give a girl a good time!”
He growled and she didn’t see the movement coming. One moment he loomed above her, and the next his hand was in the back of her neck and he’d yanked her up against the length of his lean, hard body.
His lips crashed down over hers and she squeaked, fighting furiously to get free. But he was too strong, quelling her struggles easily as if she were nothing more than a week-old kitten. He held her against him, his lips ruthless as they explored hers. She gasped, trying to tear her face to the side, but he held her still and plundered her lips with his.
