He got dressed quickly, clothes sticking to his wet skin. “Even back in these dirty rags, I feel a billion times better.”
Dee grinned and offered him her weapon. He handled it well, almost as proficient as she was. “Thank you, Paul.”
“No problem, sweetie. Enjoy it!” He leaned in the doorway, jovial air disappearing as he scanned the tunnels. He was flamboyant and silly at times, but he never—ever—shirked his duty. Which meant Dee felt safe undressing and getting into the warm, thick water.
“Um, ew,” she muttered, pulling a face as the thick liquid stuck to her body like a grabbier version of jello.
“It takes a bit of getting used to,” Sarah agreed, smiling before she plopped backwards to float.
Dee ducked under and blew out a breath; big, fat bubbles streamed from her nose. The blobs didn’t rush to the surface, but sort of just meandered around, popping into smaller bubbles. Dee broke the surface and grinned. The water felt weird, but it was cool to play with.
“I’m starting to prune,” Sarah sighed. “I guess it happens faster in thicker water.”
Dee looked at her own fingers; nothing yet. “I’ll finish up quick.”
“No, don’t worry about it.” The other woman pulled herself from the water and wrung out her hair. “I don’t mind walking back by myself, and you should enjoy this while you can. Those tornados on the ship are awful.” She had her clothes on in the blink of an eye.
The wind tunnels did suck, but Dee wasn’t going to be selfish—letting Sarah walk around alone would be foolish. How did the other woman not see that? She swam to the edge. “No, hold on. I’m done.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry so much Dee.” And just like that, she strolled to Paul, kissed his cheek, and was gone.
“What the fudgesticks?” Paul yelled. “Sarah! Come back!”
Dee was getting ready to pull herself out when she heard another familiar voice. A too familiar voice.
“Go. I’ll stand watch,” Tugarth told Paul.
“In your dreams.” Paul blocked the door with his body, weapon up.
“You want the other female walking around, soaking wet, without an escort?” the big brute asked. “We’re Peacekeepers, not monks.”
Paul cursed. “Dee? What’cha want me to do, hun?”
Dee pressed her forehead to the side of the pool, sighing. She didn’t think Tugarth would hurt her; in fact, her instincts screamed she was safe with him, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable with the situation. Still, Sarah needed someone to watch out for her fool self. “Go, Paul. And make sure to yell at her.”
“You bet your ass,” Paul muttered before racing off.
Dee braced herself. She had tried to avoid Tugarth since first meeting him; something about him—his intensity, perhaps—made her shy. His abundance of muscles and softly spoken words turned her into goo, and it was a feeling she didn’t like. Not one teensy bit. Looking at him while she was naked and vulnerable was sure to be a thousand times worse.
When she raised her gaze, it clashed with his. The pale skin of his face was pulled tight with lust; his jaw was clenched, and it looked like he was holding on to the doorway…as if to keep from lunging at her.
Dee gasped and dropped her gaze, unable to deal with that.
“Would you turn around, please?” she asked. “I’d like to get out.”
Instead, he walked slowly to the edge of the pool and knelt in front of her. “Before you run and hide from me again, I wanted to speak to you.”
Dee swallowed her automatic denial; he spoke the truth. She had been trying to hide. “What do you want?” she whispered.
“You,” he whispered back. “Just you.”
Dee blinked up at him, aware of how clear the water was, how exposed she was. She had huddled as close to the edge as possible, but it still felt like she was in a spotlight. Goosebumps puckered her skin as she tried to form words. Instant rejections piled up on her tongue, but her lips wouldn’t part.
When she didn’t answer, but instead began to shiver, he reached a hand out. An offering, a silent command. She stared at it for several long seconds, torn between her fears and the somewhat disconcerting feeling of the water around her body boiling with her own lust.
She didn’t lie to herself; she was attracted to him. He was everything she found sexy. But could she take that step? Could she…no. No, she couldn’t. Down that path lay nothing but more pain, so Dee dropped her gaze, denying him. Denying them.
His hand swept across her cheek, gently tucking an errant strand of wet hair behind her ear. “When you’re ready,” he told her, voice low and full of promise, “I’ll be waiting.” He stood and went to the doorway, keeping his back turned.
Dee let out her breath in a long, slow hiss, hating how disappointed she felt.
Still, there was no time to dwell. She wanted to get back to the others, to find comfort in their presence. And also smack Sarah upside the head.
Dee pulled herself up, the thick water trying its best to keep her submerged. She shook off the clinging drops and pulled on her dirty clothes, wrinkling her nose at the smell. The damp cloth hid nothing, as if on a mission to show off her assets. Her breasts—which were a good bit bigger than a handful—were no longer swallowed by an extra-large uniform.
She wrapped her curly red hair into a messy knot on top of her head, using one of the knotted leather strips she kept on her wrist to secure it, while wishing she had a brush, clean clothes, and perhaps a bit of makeup. She wasn’t a girlie-girl, but Tugarth made her…want to be. Maybe. Kind of. His words left no doubt that he found her attractive, but that somehow inspired her to want more. Dee pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and forcing herself to focus.
Being pretty was not important.
The mission came first.
There were billions of humans counting on the surviving Paradins. Her entire species was on the line—her hormones would have to wait.
With that in mind, she squared her shoulders and walked right past Tugarth. If she took a deep breath while passing him, soaking in his masculine scent, it was nobody’s business but her own.
Chapter 2
Hivemind was a strange, uncomfortable experience. Like the name suggested, it was a collective, a mental meeting where all the survivors of Paradise were drawn into the fold. She had no idea how it had developed, and Dee didn’t really care. Hivemind had saved them from slavery, thus proving its usefulness—but that didn’t make being sucked into a dreamlike honeycomb any easier.
Halfway back to The Den, with Tugarth walking quietly behind her, she felt the pull.
Dee had just enough time to stagger to the wall and brace herself, palms scraping on the sharp diamond, before the real world faded and a vibrant honeycomb overlaid Tugarth’s frantic face.
The transpo just breached the atmosphere, the echoing voices said. It was just a general announcement, no one person standing out to share anything strange or fantastic—that was what gave the ‘voices’ an echo-y, tinny sound: unity.
Dee hoped they had a better reason to pull her into the headache that was hivemind. A lot of Paradins had issues with hivemind, because it drained an enormous amount of energy just to connect. Staying connected was hard for them all. But Dee…well, she’d come close to being sucked dry by it.
We need further updates on the aliens. Anything to help smooth this transition. They’ll be boarding soon, and we’re at a precipice. They’ll have the potential to cause just as much harm as their brethren…something none of us want. How do we keep them on our side? There were many echoes, but the main voice belonged to Brandon this time. He was one of their unofficial leaders, the masculine balance to Lanie’s emotive guidance, and was a man they’d all leaned on at some point or another. He was logical and brave and loyal…and his words sent a shaft of panic through Dee.
She could still see Tugarth, despite the weird overlay of hivemind, and he looked anxious. Not cruel, not malicious. No, he appeared worried. Like a friend woul
d be…or a lover.
They are still ecstatic about the lifebonding, Lanie’s voice was prominent now. All of the aliens—though they preferred to be called Peacekeepers—seem happy to help.
And that was true. The big brutes really did seem happy, though their joy was more aimed toward claiming a woman, in Dee’s opinion, than the new alliance or “helping”.
They want to get laid, Paul said, his thoughts veering eerily close to Dee’s. They’ll do anything for that chance.
Dee mentally huffed. Men—no, males. Why was it always about sex? They’ll have to earn their chance, she threw out to the collective. They all know that, and they’ve agreed.
Lanie, Sarah, Iris, and Melissa all echoed her thoughts, their mental voices tinged with annoyance. What did the others expect, that the females on the moon would all lay down and spread their legs? Become slaves again?
A frizzle of guilt went through her. They’d all—even Dee—suggested Lanie do exactly that. They’d pushed her into lifebonding, and no matter how happy she appeared after the fact, it had been wrong of them. Worse, Dee strongly suspected the other woman had partially agreed to keep Dee from the chopping block.
Since the lifebonding went well, is there anyone else willing to… Brandon’s voice trailed off. Encourage the Peacekeepers?
Dee almost choked. NO! she mentally yelled, once again echoed by her female crewmates. They have their first lifebond, and Lanie is happy. That should be enough!
Not only that, Lanie spoke up, her voice standing alone and loud as it went through hivemind, but the bond is intense. I will need more time to mull things over and then share my experiences. They are very different, and lifebonding will not work for all our women.
The transpo is landing. We will discuss this again later, Brandon said. This time, he wasn’t echoed.
Dee dropped out of the mental connection and fell face-forward into Tugarth’s arms. “Deegan! Are you okay? Speak, please, my bright one.”
Bright one? Dee squinted up at Tugarth’s face as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her like a bride. “Hivemind,” she whispered.
“You’re okay?” he rasped, his cheek against hers as he clutched her tight. His face was warm…and fuzzy.
She closed her eyes again, unable to answer due to the pounding in her head. Her temples were going to implode and scramble her brain. Like always, it felt like she’d repeatedly smacked her head up against a brick wall. She hated getting sucked into that awful honeycomb. She didn’t really get sucked into it, she mused, punch-drunk on pain. No, it just looked like a ghost honeycomb got stuck on her head. Maybe a ghost bear put it there.
She giggled, the sound ringing in her own ears and making her dizzy
A vice squeezed her—a giant ghost honeycomb!—and she laughed harder. And then, just when she was about laughed out, the world went truly dark.
***
“Hey there, cackles.”
Dee blinked up at Paul. “Cackles?”
“Yeah, you’ve got a wicked villain-esque cackle, Dee. Not even joking. Muscles came running into The Den holding you like something was chomping at his ass, but you were lost. Totally out of your mind, laughing like a friggin’ loon.”
Of course. Dee closed her eyes, unable to deal with how whacked out she’d been. “Where am I?”
“Back on the ship. We hauled you up first so the magic machines could have a go at you. Still it took forever. Lots happened while you were out, like us outmaneuvering the Pirates—”
“Wait, wait. Slow down and speak English. I mean, what the hell, Paul! Magic machines?” Dee brought up both hands and covered her eyes, which were throbbing from the light. “And Pirates? Are you trying to make me pass out again?”
“Stop being a bitch, Dee. I’ve been here waiting for you to wake up, you know. A little gratitude goes a long way.”
He was right—she was being a bitch. “I’m sorry,” she whispered from behind her hands. “I’m just embarrassed and in a little pain, but I’m still sorry. Thank you for sitting with me.”
Paul patted her head. The jerk. “No worries, darling. You shouldn’t be in pain, not for much longer anyway. The medical guy, Henta—I have no idea if he is a doctor, by the way, or if these dudes even have doctors, or if Henta is just really hot eye candy. But yeah, anyway, he said the Medbed, which is a diagnostic surgical table that is so wickedly awesome I call it magic, cleared out a tiny aneurism. You were on borrowed time, my friend, and that’s why hivemind always gave you so much trouble.”
Dee dropped her hands and stared at Paul. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
“Yup. So now Brandon has all humans going through the machines—we didn’t know how to work any of this stuff, but why not take advantage now? Especially since it saved your life and we don’t have to worry about an immediate threat from the Pirates. Candi is over the moon and has attached herself to Henta’s hip so she can pick his brain.”
Dee just nodded, still too amazed at the discovery of an aneurism. And magical medical miracle beds. And no Pirates, of course.
Wait. “No immediate threat? How did that happen?”
Paul grinned. “Lanie’s brakka are the Peacekeeper’s new official leaders, thanks to Lanie sealing the deal and making ’em squeal. They snapped their fingers,”—he demonstrated, adding enough sass to make Dee laugh in spite of her lingering headache—“and shit got done.”
He sounded on the verge of a mancrush. No, that wasn’t right. The brakka had three males. So…a mencrush? Dee frowned. No—that reminded her of other men- prefixes, like menstruation. That would kill Paul’s mencrush.
…which brought Dee out of her ridiculous musings. The lingering side effects of her aneurism—woolgathering while eating pie in the sky—were obviously something she’d need to guard against. Lanie’s brakka and Paul’s crushes had no business gumming up her thoughts.
Paul, oblivious to her inner self-scolding, sighed dreamily. “Now that they’re at the helm, this ship is doing some incredible stuff—”
A knock on the open door drew their attention. Tugarth stood there, gaze locked on Dee. “Can I have a minute?”
Paul leaned in close to kiss her cheek. He winked as he stood back up. “Glad you’re okay, Dee.”
Tugarth waited until Paul was gone before stepping closer. He moved silently, which seemed strange for someone his size, and it made him all the more lethal. Like a big jungle predator…or an alien predator, given his heritage.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said, voice pitched low. It was how people spoke to freaked-out wild things, with enough soothing to calm the beast without giving up authority to it.
“I’m sorry I…” Dee winced. What? She was sorry for having an aneurism? For babbling and laughing and making a fool of herself? “I’m just sorry. For all of it.”
He put a hand close to her hip and leaned down. The gentle kiss he pressed to her forehead was sweet, and so full of meaning. It was something a husband would do for his wife; something beautiful, given without expectation. “I’m not sorry—I’m glad. Everything that happened led to you being healed.”
Dee teared up. He was so damn nice. Too damn nice! How was she supposed to keep her distance, to protect herself, when he made her heart as gooey as a melty marshmallow? Might as well stick her over a chocolate cracker and call her s’mores!
“But you’re not completely out of danger,” Tugarth told her.
Dee frowned. “Paul said the magic machine pulled out the aneurism…?”
“Magic machine?” His smile was quick, flashing a set of dimples that transformed him from hot to holy-shit-hawt-damn. Dee’s brain actually stuttered. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Why?” she breathed, still staring at his dimples.
“Because I invented the Medbed.”
He was still leaned low over her, so when she gasped in shock, she drew in a deep pull of his scent. She almost choked, torn between amazement and arousal. “Really? You’re an inventor—o
r a doctor?”
Tugarth shrugged. “I like building things.”
“Me too,” she admitted. “I always get in trouble for pulling things apart and then tinkering with it, trying to improve on the original.”
His grin was slower this time, giving her ample opportunity to swoon over his dimples and the overall transformation to his normally intense face. He was gorgeous. Stunning. Like all Peacekeepers, Tugarth was pale as milk, but with cool undertones—their blood was a deeper, darker color; plum purple, according to Lanie. His coloring enhanced his harsh, glacially stark features. White hair, as was the norm for their species, was shaved on the sides and braided down the middle of his head into an alien version of dreadlocks; random bits of silver peeked out here and there, as if he’d stashed stuff in the braids when his pockets were full.
He looked a lot like a Viking, actually.
Raw masculinity—no matter how alien—was impossible to disguise. Or ignore, as it turned out. Dee found herself studying him, captivated by the blunt angles of his chiseled face and the direct, piercing gaze staring back at her.
“I’d like to hear more about your tinkering after you go back through the Medbed.” He cupped her jaw and grazed his thumb across her cheekbone.
“Wait, what?” Dee blinked stupidly at him. “Why?”
“You were the first human to go through it, and there are a few readings that are…troubling. Normally a patient wakes as soon as they’re removed from the machine, but you took almost an hour to rouse—it’s why you woke in this room and not in the Medbed itself. You’re fine right now, but I want to try and fine-tune the results just to be sure.” He continued stroking her cheekbone, and the gentle caress dulled her thoughts as her blood pooled south of the border. “Henta will monitor, as our Medik, but I want to be there, too.”
Dee bit her lip, unsure how she felt about that. If she let him, he’d take over. Maybe not maliciously, but…well, she had no interest in being taken over. Not even by someone with heart-stopping dimples. Tugarth was strong, so assured. It would take very little effort on his part to smoosh her—body and soul. She wasn’t as tough as she’d been before the invasion, and Dee didn’t think she’d ever be to hold her own against someone so dominant.
Deegan's Rescue: Survivors of Paradise Book 2 Page 2
