Light of Kaska

by Michelle O'Leary

  She burst into tears.

  Mortified, she covered her face and tried to roll away from him, but he held her still with one leg over hers and a heavy arm across her ribcage, his voice sharp. “What’s the matter? Did I hurt you? Are you hurt?”

  Fighting for control, she managed a garbled, “No, I’m okay,” but he didn’t seem to believe her. His big hands ran over her in brisk exploration while he asked again, “Did I hurt you?” Her languid flesh hummed in delight under his touch, adding another dimension to her battle for sanity and stability.

  “Please,” she said in a shaky, wet voice, struggling to sit up. “It’s just reaction. I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t look at him while she wiped her face. The humiliation was crushing. “It’s just—everything. I’ve had a…a very strange few days. Everything just crashed in on me. I’m not normally weepy,” she muttered to the bedding while she sniffled and tried to stem the leaking from her eyes.

  “Not a lot of excitement to farming,” Stryker responded, his voice low and almost cautious.

  She risked a quick glance at him. He was studying her with a crease between his brows, his dark eyes wary. She remembered his smile, the first full smile he’d ever given her, and almost burst into tears again. She took a deep breath instead, clearing her throat and shaking her head. Feeling enormously self-conscious, she pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them.

  “So sex with me was…strange?” he asked in a peculiar tone.

  “No!” she hastened to say, startled eyes flying to his. “Well, yes, but—more like unusual. For me, I mean.” She felt her cheeks start to heat under his scrutiny and cursed herself silently for being a complete babbling idiot, but she couldn’t seem to shut up. “I don’t do this a lot. I’ve only had a couple of—well, it’s been years. And it was never like this. Never this…” She felt her face grow even hotter, with both embarrassment and remembered pleasure. He raised his eyebrows slightly, mouth softening as if he was about to smile. Remembering the devastating effect of his smile, she finished in a whisper, “It was beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

  A corner of his mouth twitched as if she’d said something ridiculous. Probably several somethings. “Delirious now. Blood sugar must be low. Did you eat anything while I was gone?” He accompanied this question with a gentle brush of his fingers over the mark his teeth had left at the junction of her shoulder and neck.

  Trying to ignore the goose bumps cascading down her arm and chest from his touch, she husked a pathetic, “No,” and then cleared her throat for another try. “That guy caught me before I could get anywhere.”

  A frown pulled at his brow. “I shouldn’t have left you.” His eyes met hers, fingers still lingering on her skin. “Are you all right now, Keza?” His voice was low, softer than she’d ever heard it, and there was a heaviness in his gaze that seemed both contrite and possessive.

  Tears threatened again and she ducked her head, pretending a fascination with her toes. How she was still functioning in this man’s powerful presence was a total mystery. “Yes, thank you,” she whispered, wishing for the courage to make a witty remark, wishing she was someone brave, someone with the confidence to match him. Someone like Bella.

  He made a soft sound that could have been humor. “Another first. Nobody ever thanked me for sex before.”

  She tried hard. Not looking at him made it possible. “Fools,” she mumbled. “If it was even half as good, they should have kissed the ground you walked on.”

  “Don’t see you doing any kissing.”

  She peeked up at him, pressing her lips to hold back a smile. “You haven’t started walking yet.”

  A quick grin flashed across his face and ripped through her heart. He leaned forward and pressed a fast, hard kiss to her mouth before he growled, “Stop distracting me. I need to feed you before you waste away. You’re thin as a bird.”

  Then he was up and striding toward the door, and Sukeza felt a lot like falling to her knees and showing some serious gratitude. Goddess, the man was gorgeous. He moved like a cat, all muscled beauty and controlled power. It didn’t seem real or possible that he was here with her, with her, with quiet, unremarkable Sukeza. That he had been over her and inside her and had taken possession of her with such ferocious passion.

  “I’ll just get cleaned up,” she muttered and slipped off the bed while he keyed the digital pad by the door. He grunted but didn’t turn, and she scooped up her clothes, heading for the lav with a desperate kind of disorientation.

  Getting clean gave her both relief and a pang of sorrow. She felt refreshed, but losing the physical trace of his claim on her body left her feeling grieved in a way that scared her. What was she doing? What kind of madness was this, that she could feel so drawn to a man she barely knew, that he could affect her so profoundly? Just reaction, she told herself with grim determination. The life she had built for herself had come unraveled and flown apart. She was in a dangerous place, completely out of her element. She was falling for the gritty, exotic newness of it all, not him. She was not falling for him.

  She reentered the bedroom and stopped to stare. Stryker had pulled his pants back on but hadn’t bothered to fasten them. They hung low on his lean hips, exposing acres of delicious skin and muscle, and Sukeza had never seen anything so wickedly sexy in her life. Her knees went weak, all her erogenous zones reawakening and remembering the feel of him. He seemed imprinted on her flesh and a quiver ran down her spine.

  Stryker looked up from the palm pad and glanced over at her casually. “Food’ll be here soon.” He’d barely finished speaking when there was a chime at the door. With an ironic tilt of his head, he put the pad on the small table and headed for the door. “Like I said.”

  He’d ordered brecaria, a spicy noodle dish that filled the room with its tangy aroma and made her mouth water. It smelled almost as good as her mother’s recipe and reminded her so poignantly of home that she felt a spear of pain through her chest.

  She looked at him askance when she approached the small table that he dragged over to the end of the closest bed. “You know, that’s a Kaskan dish,” she ventured, watching his stoic features while he laid out the meal and drinks.

  “I know. The women aren’t the only good thing about your world,” he said with a twitch of his mouth.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, chest tight. “Thank you.”

  He paused in the act of raising his drink, his face blank as he stared down at her. Then a shadow crossed his features and he looked away. “Didn’t do it for you. ‘Caria’s a favorite of mine.”

  “Oh.” She felt foolish and strangely touched at the same time. They had the same favorite dish. She felt the sting of more stupid tears and blinked hard, pulling the food toward her. What the hell was wrong with her?

  He sat beside her on the bed and they ate in silence for a while. The brecaria was tasty, though not as good her mother’s. Sukeza concentrated fiercely on the food, on the act of raising the utensil to her mouth, on how the flavors blended on her tongue. On anything but the man beside her. “I think my mother adds ginger,” she murmured.

  He made a sound of approval in his throat. “What’s her name?”

  “Myelle.”

  “Sounds formidable.”

  Sukeza sent him a startled look. He seemed engrossed in his meal, taking his time with each bite, not looking at her. “Well…she is, I guess. A little. She’s head of our Mater, so she has to be. But I always thought her name sounded very feminine. Very assured.”

  He slanted her a look that cast dispersions on her opinion but didn’t comment.

  For some reason, this irritated Sukeza. She frowned at him. “I suppose you buy into all that crap about Kaskans being just a bunch of ball breakers.”

  The corner of his mouth curled ever so slightly. He raised his drink in a mock salute. “Don’t think you’ve got it in you, Keza, but you’re welcome to try.”

  She felt her face turn hot and prickly with a blush and refocused her attention on the f
ood. “I’m different,” she mumbled.

  “Yeah, I figured that out,” he said with gentle irony.

  So why did you pick me? She wanted to ask but couldn’t find the courage. His kiss in Bella’s could have been the Haze, but he didn’t have to have sex with her. Unless he’d just been out in the black so long that he’d gotten desperate and any female body would do. That made more sense than him wanting her. When he could have someone like Bella? Be serious. She sighed, picking at her noodles.

  “So if Kaska’s your home, why were you with the farmers?”

  She stared at her food, wondering how to explain. She could go into the Mater Guidance, that she was next in line to become head of the Marish Mater and the Guidance was her culture’s way of fleshing out its potential leaders. She could say she was trying to find herself out in the stars, to discover her real spirit. She could describe her affinity for animals, which was why she’d accepted the offer to be a chukra handler. All of this was true—and none of it was the real reason.

  “I…I was escaping.”

  “Was Kaska so bad?”

  “No!” she said with surprised vehemence, glancing up at him. “No, Kaska is wonderful. My family is wonderful. But I’m…not like them.” She ducked her head at the confession, feeling again the vast, hidden shame of her departure. “I don’t have their strength. I scare too easy. I’m sure you’ve noticed,” she said with a grimace. I make a terrible Materi. But she didn’t bother explaining that part.

  “You don’t have to go back.” His tone was odd, strangely flat, but his expression was as unrevealing as ever.

  Sukeza sighed. “I know, but I want to. It’s home. It’s safety and family. I miss—I’ve missed…” her voice trailed off as her throat closed with emotion. She coughed lightly into her fist. “My baby sister must be a teen by now. I can’t picture it.” She felt his eyes on her and carefully pushed the remains of her meal away. “Do you have family?”

  “Nope,” he said, and she heard the finality in his tone. He wasn’t going to talk about himself.

  Feeling rebuffed, Sukeza stood and edged from the bed. Turning away from him and taking a deep breath, she asked, “So have you heard from Bella? Did she say the twins would take me?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  Sukeza felt the ground lurch under her feet. So soon? “Oh, that’s good,” she said in a strengthless voice. And she would never see him again. Feeling like an invalid, she shuffled over to the other bed and eased down to sit. Never see him again. It tolled in her mind, echoing with unrelenting repetition. She looked at him. “Where will you go?” The question seemed to spring from nowhere.

  He was turning the drink container around in his fingers, eyes trained on the task as if it was of deadly importance. “Somewhere I can stay out of sight until they forget about me.”

  “How long will that take?”

  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, still watching his fingers turn the container around and around. He had such strong fingers, deft and sure. She had a vivid memory of those fingers on her skin and shivered. He had been deft and sure then, too, fingers, hands, and mouth moving over her with bold certainty.

  His fingers stilled. Sukeza blinked and pulled her gaze away from his hands to find him staring at her, dark eyes glittering. “Stop looking at me like that, Keza, or you’ll wind up on your back again.”

  “Like—like what?”

  He put the container down and rose to his feet, prowling toward her. “You get all focused, intense, like maybe you’re thinking about petting me again.”

  “P-petting?” she squeaked, disoriented by the sudden shift in mood, leaning away from him when he loomed over her.

  “Yeah. Drives me crazy,” he muttered, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of her as he leaned down, surrounding her with his big body.

  “I don’t remember petting.” Breathless, she squirmed back away from him. It wasn’t fear exactly, although the feral look in his eye was sending pulses of excited alarm through her nerves.

  He followed, moving slowly onto the bed after her. “You did, while I was all chained up and couldn’t defend myself. You’re lucky I didn’t gobble you up the second I was free.”

  The sensation of being stalked sent jets of heat through her body and she had to swallow heavily before she could respond. “You’re making fun of me. I hardly touched you.”

  He tipped his head to one side, a faint, wicked curve to his mouth, studying her with those sinfully dark eyes. “You want to, Keza?”

  She had to swallow again. Her body was catching fire and he hadn’t even touched her. Want to? She would have walked through hell to put her hands on him. Dazzling images of his naked body distracted her and she blurted, “Will you let me this time?” before her brain could edit the words.

  His lashes lowered and he looked down and away as if considering the question, his mouth curving a bit more. “Well, we’ll see how much I can take.” Then he flopped over onto his back like a great wolf, playful and lazy. “I’m all yours. Do your worst.”

  Sukeza didn’t move for a moment, uncertainty and awe paralyzing her while she stared at his long, delicious form. All mine?

  He turned his head, his eyes heavy-lidded and mesmerizing. “Come pet me,” he said in a low, inviting rumble.

  A wave of desire took her breath away, a driving hunger that made her want to pounce on top of him and devour him. But her inherent reserve restrained her, admonishing her not to be greedy.

  She started with his hand.

  Turning it palm up, she stared in fascination at the long fingers and wide palm with its mysterious calluses—how had he gotten those? It was a strong hand, a very male hand, so remarkably different from hers. She watched her small, pale fingers slide over his and heard him take a breath, his fingers flexing against her touch. She traced the calluses and the lines on his palm, absorbed by the texture difference between his skin and her own. With slow deliberation, she winnowed her fingers between his in a long stroke that ended when he clamped his hand around hers.

  “That’s all I can take,” he growled, surging up and tumbling her back against the bed. He caught her wrists, settling over her and overwhelming her with his big body.

  “B-but,” she stammered, staring at the predatory glint in his eyes while a shiver worked its way across her skin. “I didn’t get to touch—”

  “You touched enough,” he said in a rough voice, his teeth nipping at her chin.

  “Chase,” she protested, tugging futilely at his hold. “It was just your hand. That couldn’t possibly—”

  His growl cut her off and he shifted until his hips settled between her thighs, letting her feel just what was possible. She gasped as he rocked his erection against her and pleasure struck like lightening.

  “Kessu, I love that look, too,” he said between clenched teeth, staring down at her with dark eyes hot and wild. “Say my name again.” He rocked his hips once more.

  “Chase,” she moaned, and he made a sound in his throat that was both triumph and need, before lowering his mouth to hers.

  His hands were rough and impatient with their clothes, but once he had them naked, he slowed down to an erotic, torturous pace that turned her inside out. She lost all sense of time and place, of thought and reason, as he pushed her to higher and higher peaks of pleasure. It could have been hours or days, but when it was over, it seemed to end too soon.

  When she remembered herself, remembered their situation and their future, she felt a debilitating wave of melancholy wash over her. But at least she didn’t cry. She was too exhausted. Barely aware of the lights dimming and the covers being drawn over them, she sighed with languid pleasure when Chase tucked her into the curve of his body, his arms around her. Snuggling against him, she relaxed and let slumber pull her down into its depths.

  Chapter 7

  There was no warning. Stryker was asleep when he heard the door opening. The locked door. His well-honed instincts pulled him awake, rolling him from th
e bed, but it was already too late.

  “Don’t move,” a curt voice commanded.

  He froze, staring at the figures flooding into the room, at the weapons they pointed at him. Dark gray uniforms, high collars with clasped hands in sliver over the left breast, peeking out from under concealing jackets. Arrogant, impersonal stares and laser guides marking his body. The Collectors. Stryker’s heart thudded and his ears buzzed with dread and despair. Who’d given him up, told the Collectors he was here? Not that it mattered now…

  Keza came awake more slowly. “What—?” she asked in a muzzy voice.

  “Don’t move,” the curt command came again and now there were laser guides on her body as well.