by Tana Stone
Torven turned back to the viewscreen with determination. He would not let them crash. As they exited the clouds, he got his first look at the planet’s terrain, and had to stop himself from uttering a Drexian curse. Now he understood why the planet had no colonies or outposts.
The surface was covered with ice and snow as far as he could see. Geysers of steam shot high into the air from cracks in the frozen ground, and the moisture froze in the air and cascaded back down as pellets of ice. Wide valleys of white were broken up by tall, craggy mountains, which he knew he’d need to avoid. He swiveled his head to see if there was any place on the surface that wasn’t frozen, but everything was white.
Torven pressed his lips together, glad Trista wasn’t watching. He flew the shuttle over a sharp mountain range and spotted what he hoped was a viable landing spot below. Angling the ship lower, he braced himself as they touched down, then attempted to hold the nose up so they wouldn’t cartwheel from the momentum. The ship jolted from the impact, and Trista yelped as they hit down a few more times, skidding into thick snow and crunching through ice and finally slowing to a stop.
Torven released his grip and the breath he’d been holding. They were alive, and the ship was in one piece. He turned to Trista, who stared out the front of the ship where ice covered half of the nose.
“You owe me big time, buddy,” she said. “I hate cold weather.”
Chapter Eight
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Trista mumbled, as she stared out the front of the ship.
“Kidding you?” Torven tilted his head. “You think I am trying to make you laugh?”
Trista waved a hand. “Nothing. Never mind. I can’t believe we’re marooned on a planet covered with nothing but ice.”
Torven glanced down at the console. “It is not ideal.”
“Not ideal?” Trista gaped at him. “Ya think?”
“It was this, or lose power and float in space.”
“No,” Trista said, her voice louder. “I could still be on the station having lunch with my nervous liaison Reina and talking to nutty Serge about the wedding, although I guess we wouldn’t have been talking about the wedding since there wasn’t going to be one. But at least I’d be there, and I’d be safe. Now I’m stranded God knows where with a guy I don’t even know, who’s on the run from his own people because they think he’s a traitor.”
Torven was silent for a moment. “I am sorry you are missing lunch.”
“Seriously?” She swung her head to face him. “That’s what you got out of all of that?”
“If you want me to be sorry for taking you off the station, I am not.”
Trista’s irritation flared. Of course, he wasn’t sorry. The only way he got away was by threatening her safety. Being stranded on an uninhabited planet was better than being convicted of treason, so he was coming out ahead no matter what. “Typical.”
“What is typical?”
“Typical alpha male who always gets what he wants,” Trista said, hearing the anger in her voice. “Funny that it never works out well for me.”
“You think this is what I wanted?” Torven’s voice rose and he stood from his chair. “I was on my way to the station to meet my mate when I was told that not only was she to be taken from me, but that I was being accused of something I did not do. Something I would never do. I arrived on the station as an accused traitor instead of a warrior and a groom.”
When he stood, he towered over her, and she was even more aware of just how huge he was. The massive bulge in his pants was now at eye level, and Trista quickly looked away, her mouth going dry.
He leaned over her, putting one hand on either side of her. “I should be naked on a huge bed in some holographic suite with you underneath me and your pretty little legs wrapped around me as you beg me for more. But instead, I’m running for my life and trying to keep you alive in the process. So, this is far from what I wanted either, mate.”
She tried to swallow as she looked up at him and into his black-lined eyes. He was so close she could feel his breath mingling with her own.
“You’re pretty sure of yourself,” she managed to say. “You’re assuming I’d fall into bed with you.”
“Not assuming.” He lowered his head so his lips brushed her ear. “Making an educated guess.”
His words sent a spasm down her spine and she shivered. She hated that the briefest touch from him made her body feel like it was on fire. More evidence that she was still attracted to the wrong kind of men.
He traced a finger down her neck to the hollow of her throat. “When we get out of here and I’m proven innocent, you will be my mate and you will beg me to take you again and again.”
Trista shook her head but was unable to speak. Her heart pounded and her skin flushed where he’d touched her. “That’s a lot of ‘ifs.’”
He straightened, his face convulsing with an emotion she couldn’t place. “Yes, it is.”
She was relieved to have space between them so she could catch her breath. Torven held her gaze for a moment before turning and heading to the back of the ship.
Even though she was breathing heavily, and a trickle of sweat slid down the back of her neck—courtesy of Torven getting her all hot and bothered—she rubbed her arms for warmth. Just looking outside and seeing nothing but ice and snow made her shiver and miss the heat emanating from the big Drexian.
“So, what’s the plan now?” Trista asked, unhooking herself from the chair and following Torven to the back of the shuttle. She may still be pissed at him, but she also knew they’d need to work together to get out of their current situation.
“Assess our supplies. Fix the ship. Leave before we’re discovered.” His words were clipped, and she could tell he was worried and perhaps not totally confident they could accomplish all those things.
She smelled something burning and suspected it was one of their engines. That wouldn’t be an easy fix. One by-product of dating losers who were more interested in their cars and motorcycles than in her was that she’d gotten to know her way around engines. If she wanted to spend time with them, she’d had to hang out in the garage and learn which tool did what. Over the years, she’d discovered a talent for mechanics and, even now, the possibility of getting her hands on a spaceship engine excited her.
Trista swiveled her head to take in the dark interior of the shuttle. “What supplies? Extra engine components?”
Torven pressed a panel on one wall and it popped up, revealing hidden shelves stacked with everything from metal canisters of water to blankets to shiny, sealed packets that looked remarkably like MREs. She picked up one of the packets and, even though she couldn’t read the Drexian words printed on the front; she saw through the clear-plastic window that it was some sort of snack food. She pulled back the seal to open it and popped one of the crispy chips in her mouth.
“You like padwump rind?” Torven asked as he watched her chew, his expression bemused.
Trista swallowed the salty mouthful. “What’s padwump rind?”
“Padwump is a type of creature.” Torven motioned to the packet. “And that is fried bits of its skin.”
Trista froze, looking at the chips and seeing a fleshy texture she hadn’t noticed before. “Fried skin?”
Torven smiled widely now. “You’ve adapted better to our ways than I imagined.”
Trista thought about the fried skin she’d just swallowed and put a hand to her stomach. So much for Drexian snack food. She reached for one of the metal canisters. “This is water, right?”
He nodded as he watched her chug half the contents in an attempt to rid her mouth of the salty and savory flavor of deep-fried animal skin. “We should probably be a little more careful with our food and water intake since we don’t know how long we’ll be here.”
Trista looked down at the bottle she’d nearly drained. “Sorry.”
“It is fine. Like you said, you missed lunch.”
She gave a small snort of laughter and placed the wat
er canister back on the shelf. “It looks like we have food and water for at least a few days.”
“All shuttles are stocked with rations and water for a week, but we should still be careful.”
“You think we’ll be here for more than a week?” Trista asked.
“I hope not, but even if we get this shuttle flying again, we can’t guarantee we’ll find a place to restock supplies. We won’t be able to fly into just any outpost.”
She eyed him. “Because they’ll be looking for you?”
He nodded without looking at her. “Drexians excel at hunting, and I have no doubt the High Command will send out their best.”
Her stomach tightened at the thought of being hunted. As annoyed as she was with Torven, she didn’t like the idea of him being the prey.
He ran his hands along the shelves as if he was looking for something in particular, then he produced a shimmery pile of fabric. “Just what I was hoping to find.”
“What is that?” she asked as he unfurled the fabric. “It looks like a jumpsuit.”
Torven stepped into the legs and the fabric pulled taut across his muscular legs. “It is an environmental suit designed to protect the wearer from any hazardous conditions.”
Trista watched him tug it over his torso and then up over his broad shoulders. She touched the sleek fabric on his bicep. “Is it insulated? It looks like a fancy version of Spandex.”
He furrowed his brow. “Does Spandex adapt to its surroundings and change color so the wearer appears invisible?”
Her mouth fell open as he snapped a band around his wrist and touched it, causing the fabric to become as black and glossy as the walls of the shuttle. She could still see the outlines of his body, but only because she stood inches away from him. Otherwise, he appeared to be a floating head. “So, when you go out there…?”
“I will blend with the background and be protected from the freezing temperatures.”
“Do you have one of those for me?” she asked.
“You should stay in here where it’s safe. Take inventory of our supplies while I assess the damage to the ship and attempt to repair it.”
Trista folded her arms across her chest, feeling her irritation return. “I appreciate the caveman gesture, but you need me out there.”
He pressed his eyes together. “I need you in here.”
Trista hesitated, wondering whether she should tell him about her mechanical skills. No one on the station knew about this decidedly unfeminine side of her, mostly because she didn’t want to explain how she’d acquired the skill. There had never been an appropriate time to causally mention she’d dated members of a criminal biker gang. But now she was stranded on a floating ball of ice with a ship that needed fixing. If there was ever a time to tell someone, this was it. Anyway, who was Torven going to tell? He was an outlaw who might end up in prison, and the planet they’d landed on didn’t look like it had life. On top of that, her gut told her he wouldn’t be the type to share her secrets, anyway.
“I can smell the burning engine from inside. Now, I may not be an expert in spaceships, but an engine is an engine. I’ve helped rebuild everything from classic Camaros to vintage Harleys. You need me out there.”
He gaped at her for a moment. “You were a mechanic? They did not mention that on your information.”
“That’s because no one here knows that all my ex-boyfriends were grease monkeys, and that I learned by helping them.” She shrugged. “It’s not the kind of information you share with girls who are ballerinas and socialites.”
“Grease monkeys?”
She grinned at his confused expression. “It means they worked on cars and bikes.”
He frowned. “How many ex-boyfriends?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, wanting to change the subject. “They were all assholes, and now I never have to see them again.”
Torven stared at her for a moment, then produced another suit from the shelf. He cut his eyes to her slip-on shoes and pulled down a pair of boots. “You are intriguing, Trista from Iowa.”
She pulled on the suit, the fabric sagging around her much smaller limbs, and slipped on the too-big boots. “You are officially the first person to ever think I’m intriguing.”
He clamped a band around her wrist and pressed a button and her suit constricted around her body and morphed to black. “You only need one.”
Her wrist was warm where he touched her, and she looked up into his eyes. It was one thing to resist a bossy alpha male; it was another thing to resist a guy who looked at her like he did. Her entire body seemed to tingle at his touch, as if she were being awakened.
Trista glanced away and focused on the mission. Fix the ship, get off the planet, and do not fall under the spell of the big Drexian.
She gulped as her pulse fluttered. Easier said than done.
Chapter Nine
Torven watched as Trista ran her fingers over the wiring surrounding the shuttle’s engine. They stood at the back of the ship, with a wide, metal panel open, exposing the guts of the vessel.
“We got lucky,” Trista said, her voice muffled by the hood covering her head and the transparent window over her face. “The cold actually stopped the engine from burning up.”
Torven gazed at the wide valley around them and the sheet of ice that was the ground. He wasn’t sure if lucky was the word he’d use to describe their current situation. Aside from them, there was no sign of life. He couldn’t imagine how anything could live in such a frozen, barren place.
Despite the frigid temperatures outside, he didn’t feel cold. He glanced down at the environmental suit keeping him warm, the fabric now white against the snowy terrain. Apart from Trista’s face earnestly studying the damaged engine, the rest of her body faded into the background, and he knew his did the same.
He watched her work, feeling a strange rush of warmth when he saw how animated her face became as she inspected the mass of wires and metal. He’d never expected an Earth female to have a talent for mechanics, although, if he was being honest, he hadn’t bothered to learn much about human women. Aside from her photo and her name, Torven had created the rest of his image of her entirely in his own head. Boy, had he been wrong.
He didn’t know if all Earth women were similar, but this was no placid creature hanging on his every word. Trista was nothing like the alien females he’d encountered on the pleasure planets. It was foolish that he’d thought she would be. Serving on Inferno Force had taught him a lot of things, but how to handle a human woman had not been one of them.
He knew she desired him. At least, her body reacted to his. He also knew that wasn’t enough. He’d seen the resistance in her eyes, and knew she’d been hurt before. The thought of the ex-boyfriends she mentioned causing her pain made his blood boil. He didn’t understand how a male with any honor could ever mistreat a female, but it explained why she didn’t trust him. He’d have to work hard to win her over.
As soon as I’ve been proven innocent, he reminded himself. As soon as she is mine again I will convince her we are meant to be together.
Trista thumped the side of the ship. “I think if we fix these wires, we can get her up and running again.”
Her voice echoed in the stillness, the hills surrounding the valley sending her words back to her. Torven didn’t know when he’d experienced such complete quiet. There was no sound of birds or insects or even wind, and the silence unnerved him. He was used to the constant hum of a battleship, the loud voices of his crewmates, the raucous laughter of the mess hall. Here, there was nothing, and he didn’t like it.
“Torven?” she said. “Earth to Torven.”
“What do you need?” he asked, pulling his eyes back to her.
“A wire stripper and pliers, to start.”
Her eyes shone with excitement, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and it pleased him to see her so happy. It was an improvement over her eyeing him suspiciously. And it really beat her shooting him.
“I will get them for you, if you will be okay out here by yourself.”
She swiveled her head to take in the stretch of ice and snow. “I’m pretty sure we’re the only things out here that aren’t frozen solid.”
He nodded and walked back to the front of the ship, his boots crunching on the packed snow and ice. He activated the entry ramp and ran up it so as not to let too much of the icy air into the shuttle. Closing it behind him, he pressed another flat panel and searched the shelf behind it for the right tools.
As his hand closed around the shiny set of pliers, the floor rumbled faintly under his feet. Was it the ship? He knew they were still running life support, but that shouldn’t cause shaking. He paused, but didn’t feel or hear anything else. Maybe he’d imagined it, or maybe Trista had gotten the damaged engine fired up again and that had caused the rumbling.
Torven exited the ship, closing the ramp behind him. He rejoined Trista and handed her the tools.
She smiled up at him. “Thanks.”
The ground trembled again, and he put a hand on the hull to brace himself. Trista stumbled against him, dropping the pliers in the snow. He caught her and wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her.
“What was that?” she asked, not pushing away from him.
“I’m not sure.” Torven pivoted as he held her, but didn’t see anything in the vicinity or on the horizon.
“Maybe this planet has seismic activity, although I’ve never heard of a frozen volcano.”
Torven remembered the geysers he’d spotted on their descent. The planet was not completely dormant, that was obvious, although he didn’t see any nearby cracks in the ground or water shooting skyward.
“We should hurry,” he said, more than a little concerned. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
She stepped away from him and scooped her tool off the ground. “Agreed.”
