by Cara Bristol
Not just anyone. Her.
He’d imposed his will, forced Illumina to remain on Deceptio for her own good, but by all indications, she’d accepted moon arrest, had relaxed and thrived. Would she consider staying once the threat no longer existed? Or would she fly away? Once she had her freedom again, would he lose her?
He’d find out soon enough. He’d called his former boss Carter Aymes and got Cy-Ops working on the ex-husband problem. Before much longer, the ambassador would become a notation in the history annals. As a cyberoperative, Dale had committed his share of assassinations for the betterment of the galaxy, but he’d never ordered a hit before.
His conscience didn’t bother him in the least. If he had any regrets, it was that he couldn’t do the honors himself. He needed to stick close to Illumina. He disliked leaving her even for a couple of days, so he’d enlisted March as backup beginning with his upcoming absence from the plant and until Cy-Ops neutralized the threat. March, a cyborg, was a former Cy-Ops teammate. Carter had volunteered a third cyberoperative as an additional bodyguard. The odds were infinitesimally slim that anyone could breach the moon’s defenses, but if someone did, he’d never get past three cyborgs. He wouldn’t get past the first one. Alonio would meet his deserving end.
Dale scrutinized Illumina sitting in the copilot’s chair, her face alight with joy. Thanks to her miserable ex, this was the closest she’d get to flying.
Her gaze met his. “Thank you for this,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
“We should head back, huh?”
“Yeah. You want to turn her around and take her to Deceptio?”
“Aye aye, captain.”
When the moon appeared, stark and gray in the distance, he switched to autopilot, and Illumina released the controls.
“Computer, prepare to land, set coordinates to five zero by nine six,” he instructed.
“No landing strip detected at those coordinates,” the computer said. The cloaking device hid the runway from the ZX7M’s scanner.
“Override. Whiskey tango. Nine nine.”
“Override accepted.”
“We won’t be able to see the runway until we’re almost on top of it,” he told Illumina. “Under normal operating procedure, I’d tap into Flight Control’s computer and switch off the cloaking device, but given our current scenario, I want it in force as much as possible. After touchdown, I’ll transmit the descender activation password.”
“You’re not going to contact Flight Control and have them do it from the inside?”
“No, there’s no need.”
“Uh…” She expelled an audible breath. “I have something to tell you. I, um, changed the protocol in Moonbeam’s computer. Flight Control has to activate the transporter. Moonbeam’s computer won’t respond to a command from a ship on the surface or in orbit.”
“What?” Dale scowled, not liking what he was hearing. “When did you do that?”
She twisted her hands. “The night…the night you showed me the observatory.”
“When I found you outside Flight Control.”
“I should have mentioned it sooner.”
“You think? Why did you do that? My pilots are no security risk. They’ve been vetted, and I trust them. After we land, you and I need to have a discussion.” He couldn’t allow her to bypass his authority. If she’d been anyone else, he would have fired her on the spot.
“While the codes are being transmitted, a sensate could intercept the password.”
The meaning sank in and settled in the pit of his stomach like a rock. He’d locked the door but left a window open. Not only could a sensate intercept the codes, a cyborg probably could, too. She shouldn’t have hacked into the system without his permission, but she’d found a serious security loophole. He should have realized and addressed the vulnerability—and not just because Illumina had been threatened.
“Besides reprogramming the system so that the descender can only be activated by an insider, I rewrote the operating procedures and sent out a memo under your name.”
Baby dove through Deceptio’s atmosphere. “Prepare for landing,” the computer announced. Not until the craft had lowered the landing gear did the runway become visible.
The craft touched down with a small bump and glided down the strip. As it slowed and taxied to the descender, he contacted Flight Control per Illumina’s new procedures. The craft sank beneath the moon’s surface, and they were encased by rock and silence.
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” she said in small voice.
“No.” Yes. More at himself for failing to notice Deceptio’s vulnerability. She had overstepped her bounds, but had been motivated by self-defense, not malice. Protecting her was his number one priority. And, in truth, she’d made Deceptio safer for everyone. He unclipped his harness and twisted in his seat. Sparkling silver eyes had dulled to a worried gray. Dale cupped her nape. “No, I’m not angry,” he said, and meant it this time. “The fix needed to be done. I should have caught it. Before you do anything else, ask me—or at least tell me.”
“I promise. I really am sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He caressed her cheek. Her skin felt like silk, such a contrast to his. He’d been a field operative in a paramilitary organization. They wore protective gear when possible, but sometimes you didn’t wait to suit up, you jumped in and did what needed doing. His robotic nanocytes repaired much of the damage he inflicted upon himself, but his body had paid the toll. He did not have a prissy official’s hands, nor an ambassador’s, but a fighter’s. Scarred, callused, rough. With those hands, he’d keep her safe.
He brushed her cheek then couldn’t resist stroking her hair. It crackled, and Illumina parted her lips.
“I want to kiss you,” he said. Tell me no. If she didn’t want this, she had to be the strong one because, around her, his good intentions evaporated faster than his willpower. He’d vowed to keep their relationship professional, but one smile, a laugh, a glance, a descender ride, and promises crumbled. What was it about a vertical transport that led to thoughts of getting horizontal?
“What are you waiting for?”
Good sense maybe? That would be a long wait.
With a groan, he covered her lips. He explored her mouth, coaxing, forcing lightness as need stormed through him. Illumina teased back, sucking his bottom lip, nipping at it.
Baby continued her measured descent to the shop floor, but he was freefalling. He grabbed for the buckle of Illumina’s harness, unsnapped it, and pulled her onto his lap. Kissed her as if that alone could sate his desire. Of course, it couldn’t. Each caress, each touch deepened the hunger.
He fondled her neck, her arm, the curve of her waist and hip, before settling on her breast and thrumming the nipple. With a moan, she arched into his palm.
The pulse in her throat replicated his own fast beat. Baby would pop into view in the shop in a few moments. Fortunately, his cyberbrain kept track of details when his human mind got distracted. He kissed her and grabbed her lustrous hair. She gasped into his mouth.
He leaned his forehead against hers. “You make it hard to resist you.”
She chuckled, her breath mingling with his in a mix of sweetness and desire. “You’re not supposed to resist me.”
Caving to the craving had not gone well the last time. An interlude of ecstasy had led to flight, avoidance, estrangement. If he pursued her now, would the same thing occur? They’d reached a level of understanding and fledgling trust, but could respect and mutual regard lead them through the hazards? His raging boner urged a hasty decision, but he’d been down that road and didn’t care to walk it again.
“I don’t want to resist you,” he said. “I’d prefer to carry you to my quarters, get naked, and fuck until we both pass out—but I would like you to be there when I wake up.”
Her face flashed with a guilty luminescence. “I will be.” She undid the fastening of his shirt. “Promise.”
He would have sworn he’d he
ard a choir of angels sing. “All right then.” A hard kiss sealed the deal, and he deposited her in the copilot’s seat and redid his shirt.
The descender delivered Baby to the plant safe and sound then rotated so she faced nose out. A dolly towed her off the lift so that the landing bridge could attach to her starboard side. In the hours they’d been gone, the work shift had ended. Other than the skeleton crew operating the docking tool, the factory floor was vacant. Thank goodness. He hadn’t looked forward to leading the march across the high bay with a stiffy.
It was bad enough the test-flight supervisor waited at the end of the dock. “How did it go?” he asked.
“Flew like a dream,” Dale said, relieved Illumina stood in front of him and hid his arousal from view. “The Xenians will be thrilled.”
“Good.” The supervisor signaled his crew. “You can move her out, guys!” The flight area was kept clear for exiting or returning spaceships. None were expected this evening, but procedures were no good unless they were followed.
“Well, good night.” He nudged Illumina, and they hurried away.
Chapter Ten
Sensor-controlled lights flickered on as Dale shouldered into his private quarters. Illumina glanced around, eager to learn more about the man as revealed by his personal space. His sitting area accommodated a replica of the sofas in the employee lounge, except longer, so he could stretch out, no doubt. Through an open door, she spied his bed, no different from the bunks in the barracks, only larger, with its thermal cover wadded into a ball at the foot. She stifled a grin at the idea of him on a standard bunk. His knees would dangle over the edge.
“If I’d expected company, I would have picked up a little.” A faint blush tinted his cheeks as he kicked a pair of boots underneath a table, grabbed an armload of clothing, and tossed it into the adjacent bedroom, and slammed the door. With a wry grimace, he ran a hand over his head.
They’d be entering that room, too. She swiped a hand over her grin, charmed by his nervousness.
“Can I get you a drink? Cerinian brandy?” he asked.
“That would be nice. Thank you.” She figured he needed it as much as she did.
While he got the brandy, she examined a group of stillvids on a credenza. A smiling couple held two small children, the boy she recognized as a younger, mischievous version of the man getting brandy. “You look the same,” she said. “Only…more.”
He snorted and uncorked a bottle of amber liquid. The second image showed a mature Dale with four other men, three of them as big and muscular as he, one startling familiar. Her gaze shot to Dale.
“Buddies,” he answered her unspoken question. “Kai Andros, Brock Mann, Carter Aymes”—he poured two shots—“and March you already know.” He brought the drink over to her.
“You knew March before you opened the shop?”
“We go back a ways.”
She eyed the stillvid, realization dawning. “You’re all cyborgs?”
He nodded. “Except for the guy in the middle. Carter. You’ll meet him tomorrow.”
Carter stood as tall as the other men but couldn’t match their physique, their musculature.
She set down the stillvid to accept the small glass. They clinked. Dale downed his in a single gulp, while she took a tiny taste. Fire seared her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. “Oh hell!” She coughed.
“Sorry.” He grinned. “I should have warned you. Cerinian brandy doesn’t affect cyborgs.”
“Potent stuff,” she said, and shifted her gaze to the third stillvid. Dale and two men and two women knelt over a dusty pile of rocks, purple sky behind them. “Friends?”
“My archeology team.”
“The ones who were killed.” After which he’d been captured and tortured.
“Yeah.”
“Again, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
She braced herself and sipped her brandy, managing not to choke this time. She studied his Spartan accommodations furnished in a minimalist manner. “Your place says a lot about you.”
“That I’m boring and utilitarian?”
“That you’re a fair man. You don’t take advantage of your position. You’re living pretty much like the employees who work for you.”
“I do have my own private ChemShower,” he joked, but a trace of red darkened his cheekbones.
“And you did take a client’s spaceship for a joy flight.” She finished off the brandy.
“Just to impress a girl. See? I’m a terrible human being.”
She set her glass alongside his on the credenza and slid both hands up his chest. “It worked. The girl is impressed. Thank you for that.” She rose on tiptoe. He met her halfway in a searing kiss.
Jolts of desire skipped from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Heat settled low in her belly. He dragged his lips to her ear. His breath, warm and gentle, evoked a strong shudder.
His jaw rasped, tantalizingly prickly. She rubbed her face against its abrasiveness then sought his mouth again. After a deep kiss, she pulled away. “Why don’t you show me the rest of your quarters?”
“Okay, but you have to promise not to look too closely. It’s kind of messy.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll focus on you.” She would. The last sexual encounter had come as a surprise. She hadn’t expected to become intimate that night and had rushed away afterward. There would be no rushing of any kind this time.
He closed his palm around hers in a warm, secure grip. Everything about this man appeared larger than life—his hands, his height, the breadth of his shoulders, his muscles, and his—yeah, that part, too. She dropped her gaze to the bulge in his trousers. Yep, just the way she remembered.
“Like what you see?” he asked.
Her turn to blush, but she boldly replied, “Looks promising.”
He pulled her close for another kiss. “I always keep my promises.”
Lights blazed as they entered the tiny bedroom dominated by the large bed. “Computer, dim illumination by 80 percent,” he said, and kicked the heap of clothing into a pile in the corner.
Illumina’s lips twitched. “Are you dousing the lights so I can’t see the mess?”
“Oh, you’re funny,” he said, but his amused expression turned serious, and he trailed a fingertip from her temple to her jaw. “And beautiful.”
Her wings had been beautiful, eliciting compliments from envious Faria. Shimmering and translucent, they had appeared as delicate as gossamer but had been as strong as tree limbs swaying in the wind. How fast she’d flown! After they’d been cut from her body, the stumps had shriveled and curled to unsightly lumps. She’d never considered herself vain but she hated for him to see the ugliness.
Her expression must have revealed something of her thoughts because his eyes darkened. “Are you sure about this? We don’t have to.”
The other time had occurred under the cover of darkness. The lights were low now but bright enough to reveal her injury. What if the scars repulsed him? If they proceeded to make love, how would that affect the future? Would this be the start of something—or the end?
Confidence wobbled, and she didn’t like it.
She disliked the fearful, hesitant person she’d become. She’d fled from evil; she would not run from good. She wanted him; she needed this. If she ran, it would be toward Dale, not away from him.
Begin as you mean to go on. “I want to.” She spread her hands over his hard chest. His heart thumped, and his scent rose to tease her senses, the merest whiff coaxing her closer.
He stroked his knuckles along her cheek, catching threads of her hair, sending a shiver along her nerves. Her hair had always been sensitive, but never so much as with him. Only he affected her like this, the slightest touch kindling hot tingles and deep yearning. She’d never imagined herself with an alien, part man/part machine, but, here and now, she’d couldn’t envision being with anyone but him. My cyborg.
He brushed his mouth over her lips in a light caress. She clutched
his shirt and deepened the kiss, needing more. He gave it to her with a growl. His erection twitched against her. Slow caresses turned fervent. Between kissing and groping, clothing, his and hers, joined the heap on the floor.
He was more powerful naked than clothed. His legs were long and stout, not weak like hers. Corded muscles bulged in his arms. Dark curly hair matted his massive chest, arrowing down a ripped abdomen to a nest around the base of his thick erection. Her core fluttered.
“Are you checking me out?” he asked.
She lifted her gaze. “I did promise to ignore the room.”
“Let me show you the bed at least.” He pointed. “Bed.”
“Noted,” she replied, smiling.
They stretched out side by side, face-to-face. Mouths fused and tongues mated in a sexual fury, but his hands were gentle as he roamed them over her body, finding and igniting hotspots. He fondled her throat, her breasts, her tummy, between her legs, the backs of her knees. Every touch deepened the hunger for that final completion.
From scalp to tip, he combed his fingers through her hair, and she shook with need for him.
“Are you cold?”
“No.” She grasped his cock, stroking its length. Body hair teased her nipples as she scooted down to take him in her mouth, to tease him until he shuddered the way she did. She sucked and laved his erection, swiping her tongue across the head, drawing him as deep as she could then pulling back with a long, slow drag.
“Jesus, Buddha, Lao-Tzu!” He growled some foreign words she had no translation for. But the meaning was as clear as the ache in her center, as the urgency that spiked when he threaded his fingers in her hair. Heady, mind-spinning pleasure climbed to a crescendo.
He pulled her on top of him.
She wrestled away.
Confusion knit his face.
Illumina stretched out onto her back. Pain jabbed at her spine, but she ignored it and reached for him.
