Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance))

by Green, Jennette

  He fell silent again, and long minutes passed. A tiny vibration from Michael’s phone made her haul it from her pocket.

  Text scrolled. “We’re retreating. Will return. Ten casualties. J Okay?”

  Anya typed back. “Yes. Have Michael’s phone. Track his GPS.”

  “Roger.”

  “Omsk?” Anya wondered.

  “Richert’s missile intercepted. O consolidating forces. Out.”

  Feeling relieved, Anya pushed the phone back in her pocket. “Thank goodness.”

  “What?” Joshua murmured.

  Anya relayed the new information. “Richert saved Omsk.”

  Joshua lay silently for a few moments. “So. He’s taken sides.”

  “Do you trust him now?”

  “Richert does nothing without a purpose.”

  “You mean he did it to strengthen his strategic position.”

  “Onred is a threat. Richert wants him cut out. Once he’s defeated, Richert will show his true hand.”

  “I wonder how the extraction team is doing.”

  “It might be hours before we hear.”

  Anya checked her watch. “Time to treat your wounds again.” Switching on the flashlight, she tended his leg. A firm scab covered the wound now. She set the wand to “deep” and stimulated the cells at deeper levels so they would replicate even faster. An artery needed to heal. So did muscle and skin, before Joshua could move far. To be on the safe side, he needed continuous treatment for the next few hours.

  She trained the light on Joshua’s cheek again. It was too soon to see healing. Unfortunately, she’d have to wait at least an hour before applying another treatment. Fewer cells needed to be regenerated, and they were all near the surface. They required periods of rest before being re-stimulated. Her glance went to his dark eyes. They seemed to be looking at her.

  “Can you see me?”

  Joshua gave a lopsided smile. “My right eye can see the shape of your head. And your hair.” He raised his hand, and his fingers touched a wavy strand at her cheek.

  Anya smiled, holding very still. “And your left eye?”

  “You’re a black shadow.”

  “That’s an improvement.”

  When his fingers left her skin, Anya felt overwhelmed by the need to fuss over him. “Are you warm enough? Can I do something to make you feel more comfortable?”

  “Lie down, Anya. Rest. When we’re found, we’ll need to get right back into the thick of battle.”

  “We?” She smiled. “You mean you’ll let me join the battle?”

  “I can’t seem to keep you out.”

  It wasn’t a promise, nor a complete answer. She said, “I belong with you, Joshua. I want to fight to free our people. And, like you, if that means death, then so be it.”

  “Rest, Anya.” His voice was husky. “Lie by my side until we have to fight the real world again.”

  It was enough for now.

  Anya stretched out next to him and lay her head against his shoulder. Joshua’s hand reached for her own, and his fingers intertwined with hers. It was an uncharacteristic move. With a sigh, she closed her eyes. Although everything in her life was so desperately wrong, she felt a sliver of contentment right now. Joshua had deliberately taken her hand. Did that mean his feelings for her went deeper than he could ever admit? What had he truly felt when he had kissed her in Michael’s guest room? Had any of it been real? She drifted into a soft slumber.

  * * * * *

  Anya treated Joshua’s wounds countless times during the night. At one point, she removed the generator from his arm, for his blood levels had been replenished, and the gray tinge had left his skin. Joshua slept through most of it. In the dark, early morning hours, she felt satisfied that the wound on his leg was beginning to heal, too. No more text messages arrived on Michael’s phone. In exhaustion, she lay her head down again next to her baron and fell asleep.

  Dawn filtering through the airbird’s windows teased Anya awake. Somehow, the tarp had bunched down around their shoulders, leaving their faces exposed. She wasn’t cold, but glanced at Joshua to assess his condition.

  The perfectly cut planes of his face were relaxed in sleep. The charred line of his cheek looked awful, but new, pink skin should emerge later today. His tawny hair was rumpled, and his changeable eyes, which always drew her like a magnet, were shut. Had his vision improved? Worry for his eyesight, her siblings, and for her people, vulnerable to Onred’s attacks, had eaten away at her all night. Belar was dead. Joshua had escaped. If the extraction team had failed, would Onred take out his fury on her family?

  It seemed entirely too peaceful and quiet in the aircraft, compared to what her loved ones must be going through, if the extraction team had failed. But she couldn’t think like that. At least Richert had saved Omsk from Onred’s thermal bomb. A big victory against Onred, for which she was grateful. Was Richert truly an ally they could trust now?

  She went up on one elbow and gazed intently at Joshua. What was his big plan to save Donetsk Territory? For she felt certain he had one, although he hadn’t confided it in her. He had told Richert that he’d planned three levels of assassination. Belar was gone. Onred and his first-in-command, Yegor, remained, unless the extraction team had managed to kill them both. Anya could only hope for this scenario. If not, her next goal would be to convince Joshua to share the details of his bigger plan, so she could help him achieve it.

  Her gaze slipped to Joshua’s mouth. His lower lip was cut just a little fuller than his upper. She remembered his kisses in Michael’s spare room. Again, she wondered if they had been real on his part. Or merely manipulative? Irrationally, she longed to kiss him again. What would happen if—just for a second—she brushed her lips against his?

  If he awoke, would he be shocked? Condemning? Or would he welcome it?

  She really should stop staring at him like this.

  With a sigh Anya edged back, but unexpectedly, Joshua’s hand curved around the back of her neck, preventing her retreat.

  “What are you doing?” His eyes gleamed tawny in the dim light.

  She swallowed. “Can you see me?”

  A long moment passed, and the brown gaze flickered from her eyes to her mouth. “Yes.”

  “Joshua.” Tears of relief sprang to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them back. “With both eyes?”

  “Colors are gray in my left. The right is normal.”

  “Thank goodness.” She made another move to retreat, but he still wouldn’t let her.

  A faint smile touched his mouth—still a bit lopsided. “You haven’t explained why you were staring at me.”

  “I need to monitor your medical condition.”

  His smile edged up. “What’s your assessment?”

  Her eyes helplessly lingered on his mouth, and then swept up to his amused, intent gaze.

  A bit tartly, she said, “The patient is demanding, and may need to be restrained.” When he still wouldn’t release her, she said, “Joshua.” Instead of sounding reproving, as she had intended, it sounded breathless, and she colored. “Let go.”

  His fingers fanned out to cup the base of her skull. Soft trepidation built inside her. Joshua fully controlled the moment, as he obviously intended. Anya closed her eyes but, just to set him back a pace, dipped down to kiss him.

  She expected surprise. Instead, when his warm lips met hers, Joshua firmly but aggressively commandeered the kiss. A moment later, he teased the seam of her mouth, urging her to open to him. With a shaking breath, Anya surrendered. It wasn’t a hard decision. She wanted him so badly that this felt like heaven to her. Slowly, he accepted her invitation, kissing her with exquisite, savagely gentle heat, so that she trembled violently. What was he doing? He couldn’t possibly…he couldn’t possibly mean this. Could he?

  Anya’s senses swam, overloaded, heated and melting into him. This passionate, yet desperately tender kiss was nothing like the controlled Joshua she knew—always restrained, always walking the straight and narrow,
always doing the right thing …and yet it was him, fully him, and she helplessly responded to his searing, possessive caresses.

  Long, dizzying moments passed, and Anya’s heart beat in fast, heavy thumps. She felt like she was drowning in Joshua. In the space of seconds, she wanted more of him—impossibly more. All of her fantasies were coming true, right now.

  Did he feel something for her, like she had always hoped? It certainly appeared so…unless this was all a dream. If so, she didn’t want to wake up.

  Yet how could this possibly be real? In the real world they could not be together. Joshua would lose his baronship. She, her inheritance. They would both be thrown out of the territory forever. What was more, Joshua’s first-in-command would become baron if anyone were to see them…fooling around like this. And yet, why would he kiss her now, if he didn’t feel something for her?

  When she made a feeble effort to pull back, Joshua kissed her for another thorough, lingering second. Only then did he release her. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his eyes burned a hot, tawny color. In a low, uneven tone, he said, “Promise me you will marry no one unworthy of you.”

  “What?” She blinked to follow his train of thought. “I won’t marry. That way you’ll stay baron.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  His dark gaze held hers. “I should be dead already. I will probably die today. Promise me you’ll marry a worthy man. But not Pete, if you don’t mind. He’s a hothead.”

  “I’m not interested in Pete.” How could he be so obtuse? “I l…”

  “Promise me. Consider Birn or Ray.” His first and second-in-command. “Or even my brother Michael.”

  Anya jerked back. “Are you insane? I don’t want any of those men. I don’t want anyone but…”

  “Stop,” he said swiftly, and with unequivocal finality. “Promise me you will choose a worthy husband. You will have children and pursue a long and healthy life.”

  It finally occurred to her what he was doing. He was saying goodbye.

  “I’m coming with you, Joshua,” she gritted. “You won’t lock me out again!”

  “When my men come, I’m sending you back to Michael. He’ll keep you safe.”

  “I won’t go!” she snapped.

  “You will!” His jaw was hard and uncompromising. “Don’t fight me again.”

  She was so angry she wanted to spit. How could they go from lovemaking to fighting in the space of one minute? The hardheaded man—Protector. Baron. Dictator was more like it. “I will fight you. And you’re weak enough now that I would win. In fact, maybe I’ll tie you up so you’ll stay safe.”

  Anya was flat on her back on the floor before she realized what was happening. Joshua loomed over her, his face frighteningly dark. Her mistaken belief in his weakness died a swift, alarming death. Softly, he said, “Don’t argue with me, sweet Anya, or I’ll show you the true brute who lives in me.”

  “You’d never hurt me.”

  “No. But I could make you hate me. You don’t want that.”

  “I could never hate you.”

  His gaze, hot now, and dark, grazed down her body. “Yes, you could,” he said softly. “How easy it would be for me to ruin your innocent fantasies of me.”

  Anya wanted to cover her ears. “Stop it.” She struggled to get the conversation back on track. “I won’t let you die. Donetsk needs you—more than it does me.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. And I think Michael would agree with me,” she asserted. “You’re pig-headed and blind, but maybe together, your brother and I could make you see reason. In fact, I think you are the one who needs to be locked up.”

  He laughed softly, with genuine amusement.

  “The territory needs you!” She wanted to slap him. “How can you be so thick-headed? You can threaten and intimidate me, and breathe orders like a dragon, but you can’t keep me out of this fight.”

  “Oh no?” he murmured.

  Her heart beat faster. “Get off. You’re not a savage, and I am not scared of you.”

  “You should be,” he said softly.

  She involuntarily swallowed, finally taking note of the unfamiliar, darkly feral cast of his features. She had never seen Joshua look like this before. “You won’t hurt me,” she told him again. “You would never hurt me.”

  But Anya did wonder why he was acting like this. It was as if he wanted to frighten her. But why? Did he want to discourage her feelings for him? Or was something else going on? Was he angry because she refused to stay in the safe, protected box where he wanted to put her? Or was this his means to push her away, because he already regretted their kisses? Hurt flashed, but she stated evenly, “You can’t make me hate you.”

  “You’re wrong. Shall I prove it right now?” His head dipped to the side of her neck.

  “No.” Her heart beat more wildly, confused by the dark, bottomless emotions she sensed in him. Where had they come from? Who was he, truly, this man that she loved?

  “Promise me, then.” His breath felt warm and thick on her skin, and she shivered.

  “No!” Enraged, she spit it at him. “You won’t scare me into making promises. Get off me, you big brute!”

  With disturbing ease, he stilled her flailing hands with one hand and pinned them to the aircraft floor. “Promise me.” His tone was maddeningly conversational, and his breath trickled warm, electrical charges across her skin.

  She swallowed, and breathlessly said, “No. I said, get off.”

  His weight pinned her to the floor now.

  “You’re not intimidating me,” she informed him. “I’m not scared. Now, for the last time, get off.”

  His lips nuzzled her neck, followed by the barest graze of teeth. Anya went very still and her breaths came even faster. “Joshua, no.” He wouldn’t hurt her. Would he?

  “You see me through rose colored glasses. I am not the man you think I am.”

  “You are,” she insisted. “You’re honorable, trustworthy, brave, and…”

  “I am not. I am not worthy of you. Or the baronship.” His head unexpectedly sagged, and his temple pressed into her neck.

  Her heart leaped. Was she finally getting through to him? “You are.” With no difficulty now, she pulled her hands free and touched his shoulder. The muscles beneath his baron’s uniform felt bunched and hard, a testament to the suppressed conflict roiling within him. “Every Donetski respects you. I respect you. You’re the best baron Donetsk Territory has ever had. You’re…”

  “A killer. A thief.” His soft laugh sounded bitter and grim. He went up on his elbows again. Those dark, unreadable eyes entreated her attention.

  Previously, he had told her that he’d been ordered to murder enemy soldiers. But a thief? “No.”

  “Yes. Don’t you know that’s why they threw me out of Tash?”

  She rallied, “If you stole something, it was for a good reason.”

  “I stole money to pay for a prostitute.”

  Anya gasped, then recovered. “You didn’t.”

  “I did. And I’ve done worse.”

  She still couldn’t believe it. “You didn’t steal the money for yourself.”

  He said nothing.

  She was right. He would never do such a lowly thing, and at twelve years old! It was inconceivable. After all, Joshua had said he’d been twelve when he had joined the military. So stealing the money must have happened prior to that. “Who was the money for?”

  Joshua heaved a harsh breath. His head unexpectedly dipped closer to hers, so his hair pressed into her cheek. She felt the power of his chest muscles, lightly grazing her breasts, and yet the press of his head into hers felt like a little boy. “Tell me,” she said again, but more gently. “Who was it for?”

  Joshua said nothing for long minutes, and then heaved himself off to sit beside her. He looked away, out the window. “My father,” he said in a barely audible voice.

  It was the first time he’d ever spoken to her about his family. And Anya f
elt horrified. “Your father asked you to steal? Why?”

  “So he wouldn’t lose his position, if it was found out that he was stealing money.”

  “What position?”

  “He was an elder, and in line for Chief of Tash. He wouldn’t dirty his hands, but his children were expendable.”

  Anya began to see the whole picture, and it chilled her. “You mean he ordered you to steal so he could have prostitutes. What happened if you refused?”

  Still staring straight ahead, Joshua raised one brow. “Do you need to ask?”

  “Yes. Tell me everything.” Softly, she slid a hand across his broad, muscular back, wanting to comfort him, wanting to understand everything about him, but most especially this dark part of his past that she’d never known existed. And yet knowing about it now, certain things began to make sense. Especially the way he held himself back from others—always honorable to a fault—but never willing to get close to anyone. He had set impossibly high standards for himself; this she began to see. Was it his way to try to atone for his past?

  Joshua said in a low voice, “He’d beat us, or force us to work in the furnace room all night; sometimes for weeks on end. I tried…” he gave a mirthless smile, “but I couldn’t live without sleep. And if I failed at school, the beatings were…bad.” Anya suspected that word was an understatement. “Michael was the youngest. I was the oldest. I didn’t want Michael or my sisters to grow up like me. I was growing into a soulless bastard. I hated myself, and I hated the world. Every time I stole or lied, a piece of me died.”

  “Of course it did,” she murmured, unable to believe what she was hearing. “You’re an honorable man. Stealing and lying and whatever else he made you do must have killed you inside.” Anya wanted to wrap her arms around him, but refrained. His posture remained stiff, withdrawn. He was ashamed of his past…and perhaps even unable to see the man he had become.

  Joshua swiped a hand across his eyes, and held it there for a brief second. “When I was ten, I told him I’d do all the stealing. I told him to leave my sisters and brother out of it. He agreed.” A bitter laugh escaped. Joshua’s eyes shut and his fist clenched. “I helped him cheat on my mother. I was the reason she died inside, a little more each day.”