Light of Kaska

by Michelle O'Leary

  “My family are the only ones who ever call me Keza,” she said faintly. “How did you—? How did you know I didn’t like being called Suki?”

  He looked down. In belated awareness, she snatched her hands back from his chest and grabbed the bulkhead to move away from him, breaking his hold. “It was in your face,” he said in a bland tone, brushing the wrap away and turning toward the pilot seat.

  Sukeza felt a frown crease her forehead. Just what exactly had he seen in her face to give him that impression? What made him chose that nickname? It gave her a warm feeling to hear the private endearment again, which was not healthy or wise when confined with a prowling male animal. She also wondered how he could be acting so calm when she was very sure he’d just been contemplating gobbling her up like a snack. Well, she had sort of thrown herself at him unintentionally. Maybe she’d interrupted a hot dream and got the backdraft from it, the fire fading when he realized she was a far cry from his dream vixen.

  I should be relieved he decided against pouncing, she thought, and she was—her heart was still racing along with that prey-animal flight response. But a small corner of her felt dim disappointment. Stupid, she berated herself. Like he’d ever choose you. Even if he did, you’d be too busy running to enjoy it.

  She rubbed her hand against her hip absently, trying to get rid of the lingering sensation of heated muscle. Wondering when he was going to put on his shirt, she asked, “So where is this place we’re headed?”

  “Nowhere you’d recognize, farm girl,” he answered with that trace of ironic humor, his back to her while he ran his hands over the controls. “Very far away from any Exchange and just about in the middle of un-civilization.”

  “But you’ve been there before?” She kept her tone neutral, trying not to be insulted by his assumption of her ignorance. She was ignorant of most of the Galactic Spread.

  “Yeah. Un-civilization is where guys like me live and breathe.”

  At that dry statement, she grimaced at his smooth back. “The place has a name, though, doesn’t it?”

  He shot her a dark, unreadable look over his shoulder. Her heart gave a little sideways jump while a shiver ran down her spine.

  “Names can get a person in a shit-load of trouble. How ‘bout we just call it the place that’ll get you where you need to go.”

  “Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue,” she muttered, earning a snort from him. She shifted uneasily, wondering why he was being so evasive. Maybe he was having second thoughts about getting her home. Or maybe he’d never had any intention of letting her go. With hesitant persistence, she asked, “Is it some sort of secret base?”

  “This ain’t some operatic, farm girl. It’s just a hole in the ass end of the galaxy, but these people are gonna help you if I ask nice and I don’t want you putting them in the line of fire if some badge asks you for your story.”

  “Oh.” She felt a flush work its way up her throat and over her cheeks. “Right. That’s—a good point.”

  His night wrap drifted against her legs, and she busied herself collecting it and tying it out of the way against the hull. The billowing material puffed little clouds of his scent to her, a dark spice that screamed dangerous male animal. It caused her breath to stutter in her chest and made her movements clumsy.

  When she was done, she kicked across the cabin to repeat the process with her own wrap, keeping her gaze carefully away from him. “You—you said it was ten days out?”

  “Yeah, but it’ll go in a flash. We’ll hit hiber-sleep after breakfast and be there before you know it.”

  She felt a protest rise in her throat and swallowed it hastily. What was she thinking? The less time spent in his company the better. She was not the type of woman who handled danger well—the exact opposite actually—and Stryker was dangerous in so many ways that it boggled the mind. Just because he made her body sit up and beg… She considered the residual heat still throbbing between her legs from touching his bare skin and shuddered. Much better if he became an interesting memory, a story to tell her sisters about Keza’s grand adventures away from home. Okay, so this experience would be the only adventurous story she’d have to tell them about her Mater Guidance.

  A wave of homesickness passed over her, weakening her knees. Breathing deeply and pressing a steadying hand to the hull, she spoke without looking at him. “So…what do you want for breakfast?”

  “Thought you said you can’t cook.”

  “I said I’m a bad cook—there’s a difference.”

  “Not from where I’m sitting.”

  Sukeza shot him a glance, but she couldn’t confirm the trace of humor in his tone from studying the back of his head. He still hadn’t put his shirt on. With another deep breath to loosen the band around her chest, she pushed back over to his wrap and snagged his shirt. Careful to keep a hand on anchored objects, she moved to hover next to his chair, tucking the piece of clothing over the armrest with what she hoped was subtle dignity.

  He ignored her.

  With a little grimace of annoyance, she watched his strong hands move over the controls, acknowledging her ignorance of their current location. None of the screens showed familiar territory. To her, the nav graphs looked like he’d plotted a course from one corner of the middle of nowhere to the other. Biting her lip in consternation, she settled her growing anxiety by focusing on something she did know.

  “Let me take a look at your wrists,” she blurted, momentarily forgetting what his proximity did to her when she caught sight of the welts on his skin. They didn’t look as raw, but they still drew a reaction from deep in her gut, a clench of empathy and guilt when she remembered their source. She was reaching for him before she remembered to be nervous. To her surprise he jerked away, upsetting her balance. Catching herself on the edge of the control panel, she stared at him with wide eyes.

  Stryker didn’t meet her gaze, his face immobile as he continued his work. “Wrists are fine,” he muttered. His dark eyes flashed to her face before he refocused them with fierce concentration on the screens in front of him. “Get that look off your face, farm girl. I’m not gonna eat you. Are you this scared of everybody?”

  The contempt in his tone stung her. She stiffened. “No, just criminals,” she snapped then fled to the food storage, putting as much space between them as she could. But she couldn’t swallow her resentment or keep her mouth from running recklessly. “Something about thieves, murderers, and rapists makes me nervous. Go figure.”

  “I’m no rapist,” he said and the underlying menace in his voice sent a chill down her spine.

  Caution finally exerted itself and she pressed her lips together, shooting him a quick glance while she pulled containers out of storage. She noticed that he hadn’t denied being a thief. Or a murderer.

  Looking at the containers floating in front of her, she paused, wondering what the hell she was going to do with them in zero-g. “Um, can you turn the grav back on?”

  “Come here,” he said in answer and a thrill raced through her. A thrill of fear, of course. She wasn’t masochistic enough to get a thrill of pleasure out of the dark command in his rough voice—was she?

  “Why?” she asked without moving.

  With a heavy sigh, he shot her a hostile look over his shoulder. “Because I wanna eat in this century. You sit and watch the long range for traffic. I’ll get breakfast.”

  Relieved, she moved to take his place in the pilot’s chair, avoiding his gaze. Her face was warm, and she heard him snort softly as he moved away. Residual resentment reared up again. She chewed on the inside of her cheek while she watched empty space and listened to him move around the small cabin. She’d be damned if she’d feel guilty for not trusting him. The man was a criminal. He’d put bruises on her wrist. He was a strange man in a very strange situation, just exactly the kind of thing every mother warned her daughters about. She could only be more vulnerable if she was staked out naked in the wilderness.

  “What happens if I see traffic?”
/>   “We avoid it.”

  She thought about that for a moment. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Your record said you escaped months ago. I didn’t think it was possible to avoid the Collectors so long.”

  “Neither did they. They’ve been on top so long they forgot what it’s like to work for it.”

  She touched the controls, tracing her fingers over the worn pads and faded colors. The idea of him avoiding everyone and everything, of being out in the black of space in this tiny cutter for months all alone, did something unpleasant to her insides. To her, it seemed a different kind of prison, a different cage. No wonder he’d stopped on that planet, visited their rural community. And look what it had gotten him. “How did you stand it?” she whispered.

  He didn’t answer. Maybe he hadn’t heard.

  A few moments later, he handed her a pouch with a straw poking out of it. She accepted it with quiet thanks and took an experimental sip. It was delicious, fruity and substantial at the same time. She had no idea what was in it and didn’t ask. It was enough to feel the concoction slide down her throat and settle in her stomach with solid satisfaction.

  She lifted her head, watching him prowl the cabin and open empty compartments while grumbling under his breath. He moved with easy grace in the nil gravity, the muscles in his back and chest sliding under taut skin with a kind of fluid strength that held her mesmerized. That feeling was back, that combination of distress and awe at his beauty and hopelessness. What would happen to him? Even supposing she could exit his life without getting him caught, would he really be able to avoid the Collectors forever? The question caused a desperate pain to bloom deep in her chest.

  Swallowing hard, she dragged her gaze away from his stark beauty. She had no business wondering such things, especially when her own situation was so tenuous. Focus, she admonished herself grimly. Her misplaced sympathy had already gotten her in a whole galaxy of trouble. She didn’t need any more.

  “You ready?” his abrupt voice interrupted her train of thought.

  She blinked up at him. “What?”

  “For hiber-sleep,” he responded with a note of impatience, his dark eyes sweeping over her. “Farmers didn’t strip everything. Don’t suppose they’ve got a use for hiber-cuffs. The sooner we pass out, the sooner we’ll be there.”

  He seemed suddenly anxious to get rid of her. Or…maybe he had another reason for putting her to sleep. She bit her lip while she considered this, pushing slowly away from the chair. Renewed caution sent possibilities and tendrils of panic through her.

  Stryker stared at her with his piercing dark eyes, seeing right through her. A corner of his mouth twitched and he shook his head in slow disgust. “Kessu, you’re like glass. What do you think I’d do to you asleep that I couldn’t do when you’re awake, little Keza?” He loomed over her, his big body crowding her all of a sudden. She hadn’t seen him move. His voice lowered to a dark growl. “You know hunters better than that don’t you, farm girl? What fun is a limp, lifeless body? Much better to chase, see the fear in your eyes, watch you squirm and try to wiggle out from under me.”

  His eyes were hot and savage again, his face etched with predatory hunger. Sukeza swallowed hard, holding very still. Yes, she knew predators. She also recognized the taunting tone, the sarcasm. He’d just lost patience with her nerves and distrust. He wasn’t serious. “You said you weren’t a rapist.” She tried for strong resistance, but her voice sounded weak and shivery instead.

  “Would it be rape?” he asked, his voice low and rough as he lifted a hand and traced his fingers from her brow to her chin, his touch feather-light and stunning in its impact.

  Not serious, she told herself again, trying to remember how to breathe, while her entire body seemed to shimmer with heat and longing. He’s just making fun of me. It was hard to remember that though, when she was drowning in the midnight heat of his eyes. She opened her mouth to answer him, but her mind was a blank. The only word that came out was, “Stop.”

  His hand dropped away, eyes shuttering. With a snort, he kicked away from her, drifting across the cabin. “You remember how to calibrate a cuff?” he asked curtly.

  Sukeza couldn’t answer, still trying to find solid ground. Hard to do in z-grav.

  “Kessu’s nuts,” he snarled, and she caught hold of the pilot’s chair to steady herself, not looking at him. After a moment of sharp silence, he said, “Look at me, Sukeza bet Marish.”

  Her head jerked up and she stared at his grim face with wide eyes.

  “If I wanted to hurt you I would have already. Hell, if I was smart I would’ve left you on that damned dirtball, but I didn’t. Taking you anywhere with me is a huge risk I shouldn’t be taking, even if you were worth selling or trading, which you’re not. I’ve got no reason in the universe to help you, but I am. So get your ass over here and put this cuff on.”

  For reasons unknown she felt tears sting her eyes. Lifting her chin, she refused to break eye contact with him. “You’re a stranger to me. You’re an escaped convict. I’m alone and completely at your mercy. Why wouldn’t I be afraid of you?” She was proud of the quiet steadiness in her voice.

  He looked away first. Face like a stone, he stared at the hull and asked again in a voice devoid of emotion, “Do you remember how to calibrate a cuff?”

  “No,” she answered with as much dignity as she could muster. Pushing toward him, she continued, “I’d appreciate it if you’d show me.”

  He didn’t try to help her when she caught herself on the bulkhead, even though she wobbled in a rather ungainly fashion. His reticence did something unpleasant to the center of her chest. She took the cuff from him without meeting his eyes.

  “I haven’t done much space travel,” she said into the uncomfortable silence. “I’ve only done hiber-sleep a couple of times.”

  “Slid it over your wrist,” he instructed, his voice neutral, though it had lost that flat, hurtful quality. “If you press that part, it’ll scale down to fit—good.” He walked her through the process, explaining the induction phase and timing of the control doses without touching her or the cuff. In fact, he stayed a good arm’s length away.

  When he finished explaining and she’d calibrated the cuff to his satisfaction, he monitored her while she wrapped herself in clingy cloth and activated the cuff. She didn’t feel the needles pierce her skin, but a sensation like ice moved up her vein and made her grimace. “Cold,” she muttered and he nodded.

  “See you on the other side.”

  His steady, dark eyes were the last thing she saw before blackness closed over her head.

  Chapter 5

  A persistent, annoying beep pulled Stryker from sleep. For a moment, he stayed still, listening with groggy incomprehension. Then alarm pierced his fog and he convulsed out of the wrap, flying across the cabin to the control panel. Heart beating a heavy rhythm, he scanned the displays.

  Then he relaxed, sighing his relief. Only the proximity alarm, the signal that they were approaching their destination. The planetoid was a solitary drifter, wandering on an erratic orbit around a cold star. There were a few blips of traffic, but small and ordinary, the usual traders to this little outpost. No Collectors. Stryker sagged against the seat, thinking that adrenaline was at least good for getting rid of the residual effects of hiber-sleep.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Sukeza slept on, her form bundled so completely in the wrap that only her face could be seen. She looked small and defenseless, her delicate features a silent reproach. He turned away, guilt and frustration roiling in his stomach. He shouldn’t have lost his temper with her. She couldn’t help being an innocent and he had no business lashing out at her for it. He especially had no business stalking her, lusting after her, touching her. But she’d damn near shattered his control when she’d woken him up like that. He remembered the feel of her, pressed against him all soft and luscious, her cool fingers splayed against his hot flesh, and he blew out a harsh breath, body reacting as it had then. She’d be
en wearing that absorbed expression, amber eyes soft and fearless. For all of three seconds.

  Shit. He’d had to work hard to rein himself in, to restrain the hunger and pretend nonchalance. He’d thought he had it under control until she’d tried to touch him again, wanting to look at his damn wrists of all things. He’d nearly lost it, nearly pulled her on his lap and growled, yes, touch me there and here and here and pet me, Keza, all over… But her wide amber eyes had stopped him again. Her fear.

  He ran a hand through his dark hair, feeling desperate and stupid. He couldn’t understand it. She was small and terrified of him. Why did he want her so badly? So badly that he’d tried in spite of her fear to woo her. His timing sucked. Scaring her on purpose and then trying seduction hadn’t been his most brilliant move. But she’d smelled so good, like sunshine and wildflowers—she turned him into a drooling idiot. He rubbed his thumb over the tips of his fingers, remembering the silk of her skin and wondering if she was that soft all over.