Fierce Radiance

by Fierce Radiance (lit)

  * * * *

  Once they broke free of the atmosphere, Jorvis turned his command chair around so he could face her and talk. The small lander was less than twenty-five feet long inside, meant to hold up to four crewmen comfortably for missions and transport.

  “Tell me, why are you so well-preserved, Sammuel?”

  He settled back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “It is a rather long answer, so I appreciate your indulgence. After I crashed I was found and rescued by D’arsolan Ker-Pythan, who at that time was an Act’huran captain on a shadow ship working with our Confederation forces.

  “Act’hurans are not like humans, one species of many races. Act’hurans have two distinct but related species. The majority species is the t’amen-ra. Greater in number, but they were the second, lesser species to develop. The first, the t’amar-te, are much older and highly revered and are the dominant force in our society. They are similar in physical appearance to the t’amen-ra, although usually larger. Over the millennia, they have evolved in such a way that they are now always male.”

  “Okay, I’m no doctor, but how do they reproduce?”

  He smiled. “The t’amar-te, unlike their brethren, have particular needs in that they seek out first a t’arn, a mate. Male or female, it does not matter, but it is nearly always a male they claim first. Their physical senses are more highly developed, as are their clairvoyant senses. When they meet someone, they know immediately if he or she is their perfect mate. When they do, if the person is willing, they take them and they mate for life. Eventually, most t’amar-te add a third to their pair, making them a completed triad. Both mates are then collectively known as t’wren. They are joined not just in body and heart, but in mind and soul.

  “While a pair can live many, many centuries, triads live much longer. Act’hurans live very long anyway, rarely get sick, and age very slowly. Unless injured, they normally live extremely long lives compared to humans. If the second t’wren is a female, the t’amar-te can reproduce their line. If both t’wren are male, which sometimes happens, then they do not. I willingly chose to stay with the t’amar-te who rescued me.”

  “So…he’s your mate?”

  “I am his t’arn. We do not yet have another t’wren.”

  For some reason, the look in his eyes made her breath catch, her heart race, and she knew it had nothing to do with her injuries. “But you’re human.”

  “Humans are close enough to Act’hurans that it does not matter. When they take a mate, because of certain…properties, the t’wren both change in many ways, even if they are not t’amen-ra. I used to have dark brown hair and blue eyes. That is how t’amar-te can mate with t’amen-ra. Both t’wren become, in many ways, t’amar-te. And as long as one of the t’wren is a female, they can reproduce and carry on their line.”

  His green gaze burned into her.

  “What are you saying, Commander?” She felt it safer to revert to the formality.

  “Do not worry, Aine,” he said with a smile. “We do not ever force t’wren. Ever. It is not allowed. No one wants an unwilling mate.” With that he turned to face the front again, leaving her with loudly jangling thoughts and a body that, while still wracked with medicine-numbed pain, reacted to him in a way she’d never reacted to anyone before in her life.

  * * * *

  Commander Jorvis wouldn’t let anyone else help her after they landed in the hangar bay of the Act’huran battle cruiser Haltoran-dey. He personally carried her knapsack and kept his arm around her for the walk to the ship’s medical bay. He barked orders in Act’huran to his men, who immediately scrambled to comply. The men, most not quite as tall as Jorvis, all dwarfed Aine. While at first glance they looked human enough, a closer look exposed the subtle differences in the face, wider set eyes, longer skulls, and tanner skin.

  “I thought you said your ship’s name was the Ab’yoika Maru?”

  “It is. This is one of our fleet. We are on our way to rendezvous with the Ab’yoika Maru.” He walked her through the door of the medical bay and immediately started giving orders in Act’huran to the staff. One man, the doctor she guessed, looked a little annoyed until Jorvis growled another command at him.

  The doctor paled and scurried to get something, chirruping orders to his staff.

  Jorvis had no plans to leave her side. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and lifted her onto a medical bunk. A male medic brought a hospital gown and blanket and activated a privacy screen for the alcove after leaving them alone.

  Jorvis reached for the coat’s belt. Aine clamped her hands over it. “I can undress myself, Commander.”

  He smiled but remained undeterred. He simply lifted her hands away and continued to untie the belt. “Then tell me to stop.” His eyes bored into hers as she felt the words wither in her throat.

  He helped her sit up and remove the coat, then don the gown. He pulled his coat back on and called something to the medic, who then returned with the doctor.

  When the doctor started speaking in Act’huran, Jorvis growled at him. “In English. Have respect.”

  The doctor, a man Aine suspected wasn’t used to taking orders, colored in the face. “My apologies, Commander. Captain Lorcan, I need to do a full scan to check the status of your injuries. Commander Jorvis said he performed emergency field surgery.”

  “Okay.”

  Aine thought Jorvis would leave the alcove for the exam, but he didn’t. He stood at the head of the medical bunk with his hands firmly planted on either side of her head. Normally the close intrusion would irritate the snot out of her.

  At one point, something the doctor did hurt like hell. She involuntarily gasped as she reached up and grabbed Jorvis’ arm.

  “Shh, it is all right, Ki’ato,” Jorvis soothed. “I am here.” He laid his other hand over hers, trapping it against his warm arm.

  His low, rumbling voice. What the hell was it about him that made her want to melt into a puddle?

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” the doctor apologized. She felt the sting of a hypo. “I’m giving you a local anesthetic. I must check the incision.” The pain ebbed away as the medicine took effect.

  Jorvis’ thumb rubbed along her knuckles. She closed her eyes and tried not to process the confusing jumble of thoughts and emotions entwined with her pain. There would be plenty enough time for that later—once she put on some real clothes and had a sealed cabin door between her and the sinfully sexy Commander Sammuel Jorvis.

  After what felt like forever, and more doses of antibiotics and painkillers, the doctor grudgingly admitted Jorvis had done an adequate job and nothing needed repairing. “I suggest a very light meal of broth and tea, nothing heavy for a few more days. Let the intestines fully heal and strengthen again without having to struggle to digest a lot of food.”

  “Otherwise?” Jorvis asked.

  “Otherwise, she is healing. I will not use any more of that accelerant. She’s had more than enough and I do not want to risk ill effects.”

  “Then I can take her?”

  Her eyes popped open. Take me where?

  The doctor shrugged. “I would prefer she remain in bed for a few days—resting,” he added for emphasis, as if he felt a crystal-clear clarification was necessary.

  Oh boy. Aine had an idea that maybe her definition of “take” and Jorvis’ were two totally different beasts.

  “Excellent.” He shouldered her knapsack again and, wrapping the blanket around her, scooped her into his arms before she could protest. “Tell my yeoman what her diet is and have him bring it to my quarters immediately,” he called over his shoulder.

  Aine tried to protest, but he’d already carried her out of the medical bay and down the corridor, heading gods knew where.

  Jorvis would have none of it. “You are going to rest. You heard the doctor.”

  “In your quarters?”

  “They are the best on the ship. Is that a problem?”

  “I would prefer quarters of my own, thank you.” She tr
ied for a cold and chilly tone and knew it came out sounding rather temperate despite her best efforts. Dammit, she couldn’t think around this man, which was totally not like her.

  “You have quarters of your own—they just happen to be my quarters. If you think I will allow someone of your status out of my sight, you are sadly mistaken.”

  He glanced down at her again. She knew for damn certain the heat she felt flare in her belly had nothing to do with her wounds.

  They turned a corner. A moment later he entered a huge stateroom cabin. He gently laid her on his bunk and pulled the covers over her. Before she could argue with him again, the yeoman appeared with a tray. Jorvis took it and immediately dismissed the man.

  After he removed his sidearm, he sat next to her on the bed and helped her eat.

  “I am capable of eating by myself!”

  “Did I say you were not?”

  “What’s going on, Commander Jorvis?”

  “Sammuel.”

  She glared at him, but he smiled.

  “You look beautiful when you are angry.”

  “That is the universe’s oldest and worst pick-up line.” She finished the broth. “And what did you call me earlier?”

  “What?”

  “Ki’ato. What does that mean?”

  “It means ‘Little One.’” His gaze lingered on her face, pulling more heat from her core. “It is a term of endearment.”

  Her mouth dried up. She took a drink of water and tried to control the nervous tremor in her hand. “I get the feeling you have something up your sleeve, Commander.”

  He put the tray aside and caught her chin between his palms, cradling her cheeks. “I will call you whatever I want, Ki’ato, because I know you feel what I feel. You and I are cut from the same cloth, lone warriors with steel-plated hearts. Right now, you are afraid of what you are feeling because you’ve never felt it before. The loss of control, the instinctive response to me. I know because I once was where you are.”

  She couldn’t speak. Her heart raced. He continued. “You say one word—stop—and I will. Any other word, any other protestation, I will ignore because I know you need to pretend to fight this to preserve your sanity until you can accept it. I speak from experience. Tell me I am wrong.”

  He leaned in and kissed her, gently at first, then with more passion, his tongue demanding entrance.

  She wanted to fight, wanted to bite and yell and scream and tell him stop.

  She couldn’t. Her body wanted him.

  He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. “Tell me to stop.”

  Her chest heaved, not in pain but from trying to catch her breath from that earth-shattering kiss. She wanted more and hated herself for her body’s betrayal.

  He kissed her again, this time his tongue tracing the shape of her lips before one hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers curling in her short hair. “You will grow your hair long, Ki’ato. So it looks proper.”

  “What?” Okay, so a crack about her ‘do could pull her out of the mood?

  “You must have a braid, as will suit your status.”

  She tried to put a hand to his chest to push him away and her body betrayed her again. She grabbed his shirt instead, holding him in place. “You sound rather sure of yourself, Commander,” she breathlessly said. “Taking advantage of a woman unable to fight back.”

  “You are an expert in hand-to-hand combat. You would not lie still even on Death’s door. Severely wounded, and yet you tried to fight me when I pulled you from the wreckage.” He used his free hand to unfasten the top two buttons on his shirt and drew the collar aside. Along the base of his throat a deep, ugly gash was healing. “You did this to me. I certainly did not do it to myself. That is why I had to put the energy shackles on you until I could make you understand I would not hurt you. You would not stop fighting unless you were unconscious.”

  “What exactly do you think you’re going to do with me?” She already knew. Or strongly suspected, if her body’s reaction was any indication.

  “You are my t’wren. While I cannot fully claim you tonight, I plan to do so as soon as the doctor says you may safely engage in physical activity.”

  “Whoa.” She started laughing. “Dude, you are sooo crazy. Nice joke, Commander, but time to knock it off.”

  “Then say that one word and I will.”

  She wanted to force the sound through her lips and couldn’t. One simple syllable.

  “Then until you can say it,” he continued, “I will assume you accept.” He kissed her, and this time she didn’t bother trying to hide her response. She closed her eyes and let him explore, tasting his breath, slightly spicy like his scent. When he lifted his head she wanted to follow, to not break their kiss.

  He shifted position on the bed, stretching his body along hers and cradling her against him. His other hand burrowed under the blanket, down to the hem of the medical gown, and lifted it above her hips.

  This can’t be happening. “I—I—”

  “Say the word,” he rumbled as he nuzzled her neck. “And I will stop.”

  “No…”

  “That is not the word and you know it.” His fingers brushed along her thighs. They parted before him. “Tell me to stop.”

  “No.” She closed her eyes as her thighs opened wider.

  “No you will not tell me to stop?”

  Her voice sounded barely louder than a whisper even though her pulse pounded in her ear. “Don’t stop.”

  It felt like forever that he teased her. She’d only been with Hector, and he’d been pretty decent in the sack. So far, the passion she felt just from what Jorvis did far surpassed anything she’d ever felt before.

  His fingers lightly stroked her clit, then teased her slick flesh. She knew her juices flowed for him, her body telling him what her voice could not.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he rumbled against her neck.

  “No!”

  “Spread your legs wider.”

  Her breath came in hitching gasps as she did. Maybe they drugged her. Maybe that was it, and in the morning she’d be able to think straight.

  He cupped his hand over her mound, slipping one finger into her wet passage as his palm kept steady pressure against her clit.

  He nipped her earlobe. “I will teach you to come on command for me and Master,” he whispered. “Just as he taught me. I promise you we will love you and cherish you and protect you for all of our lives. You will never feel alone again. Your soul will be joined to ours, entwined, a completed triad.”

  Heat coalesced under his hand. She couldn’t think straight between the thick, deep sound of his voice, his scent, and the feel of his finger fucking her.

  “You are so tight. I cannot wait to slide my cock inside you. The first time, I will fuck you hard and fast and make you mine. It will not be loving or tender, and you most likely will not come. I will mark you as mine and claim you.” He plunged his finger a little deeper. “The second time I fuck you, I will fuck you long and slow until I have felt your body milk my cock many times with your orgasms.”

  She gasped.

  “The third time,” he continued, “I will fuck you until you scream my name and beg me to let you come, because by then you will be totally mine.”

  Her belly clenched, tight with need. His finger plunged deeper, then pressed up, finding that magical spot she’d heard about but never located in her limited time with Hector.

  “Come,” he ordered.

  She moaned as her body obeyed even while her mind struggled to comprehend the command. He kissed her, crushing her lips with his. His finger continued whatever magic motions he used to conjure the response from her, prolonging her reaction until she lay trembling on the bed beside him.

  He withdrew his hand and, his gaze firmly on her, sucked her juices off his fingers. She watched him as she gasped for breath.

  What the fuck? I crash land, nearly die, and now I’m letting a guy I barely know make love to me?

  A slow,
seductive smile curled his lips. “You never said stop.”

  Speechless, she continued to stare at him.

  He got out of bed. He stripped off his coat and draped it over a chair by the small table, then removed his long-tailed shirt, which he accidentally dropped on the floor. The torso revealed was strong, well-muscled, his broad chest dusted with curly blond hair the shade of his braid. When he leaned over to retrieve the shirt she realized the back seam of his trousers must have split open at some point because the fabric parted, exposing bare, pale flesh.

  She laughed despite herself.

  He looked over his shoulder. “And what is so funny, Ki’ato?” he asked.

  “You need a tailor. You mooned me.”

  He realized what she meant. He sat to pull his boots off. “No, they are deliberately made that way.” One boot hit the floor with a heavy thud. “Master prefers instant access to me when he desires it. Even when I am not with him, he wants me dressed as he specifies.”

  The laughter dried up in her throat as his meaning slammed into her. Her expression must have amused him. “I look forward to helping him decide how to appropriately attire you.” His other boot hit the floor, then he stood and unbuttoned his fly. He removed his trousers and added them to the pile of clothes accumulating on the other chair.

  She’d seen cocks before, Hector’s up close and personal, and others in vids and the occasional accidental glimpse in the course of being the only woman on a ship.

  This cock, large and thick with a full, heavy sac hanging beneath it, looked more like a weapon than something belonging on a human male. Fully proportioned, well befitting its rather large and bulky owner and doing him proud justice.

  It also looked rigid and anxious to get back to the business at hand.

  So why the fuck did her mouth water?

  “What are you doing?” she managed to ask.

  “I would think that is rather obvious.” He returned to the bed and knelt beside her head. “It is getting rather tiring to remind you that all you have to do is say stop.” He caressed her cheek. She lay eye to…well, one-eye with his member.