An hour later, the group of ten men was seated around her at one long table, looking anxious. It was obvious Beaver had given the bare bones of the mission, and it would be up to her to provide details. Their eagerness was contagious, and it helped her focus, bringing herself down from her absolute mania, and she dove in headfirst to start plotting their next move.
Chapter 6
She shouldn’t have come.
Sirah stood in the lobby of the motel, staring at Ronan in the midst of his men, her lips slightly parted as she tried desperately to control her breathing. She’d seen him in the dark, in firelight. But in sunlight, she could see all his glory, the golden skin almost shimmering as it reflected the brilliant rays. And the thin black material of his clothes set off his shifting skin tone to the height of its advantage.
But the condescending expression he wore as he crossed thick arms over his broad chest was completely juxtaposed to the man she’d so readily bared herself to less than a week ago. And it was only worse when one of his men stepped forward, offering her a leather satchel filled with the weapons she’d left behind when she’d turned tail and run from him.
“I believe you were in such a hurry to dismiss my presence after I nursed you back to health that you left these behind,” he said in a taunting tone, his voice infused with both amusement and authority.
Her hand shook as she took the bag, fighting the urge to yank it from the Tyrian soldier’s hand. This was supposed to be a peaceful discussion, not a cold encounter. Jutting her chin out, she nodded. “Thank you for returning them.”
“Of course. Now, we have business to tend to, and I don’t want to indispose you any longer than necessary. Shall we begin?” Ronan’s words were sharp, all business, and his expression was unreadable. His demeanor was careless, but with an air of absolute control, and his men watched him as if a single motion would signal them to move. Sirah had a feeling that was the case.
With a curt nod, she gestured toward the door to their left, which led to a small ‘business center’ consisting of three ancient computers and a printer. “I thought we might take our two most trusted advisors in and let the rest stand guard out here in case something should go amiss.”
He grunted, his eyes roaming up and down her body with a very different look than before. He wasn’t raking her over with desire but with disgust. “I assure you, if something goes amiss, it will be the fault of the lesser race.” She didn’t miss the barely veiled smirks his men wore at his words. “But I agree. Let’s have a seat and try to hold intelligent conversation regarding a truce.”
It was all Sirah could do not to gawk at him. The things he said were offensive, and it almost knocked the wind out of her. She’d been so wrong about him. She’d thought that, perhaps, he wasn’t the same level of heathen as the rest of the Tyrians when, in fact, he was worse.
Beaver stepped forward impulsively, a muscle in his jaw twitching with his seething anger. “You’ll address our leader with the same respect we’ve addressed you, sir,” he spat through gritted teeth.
One of the Tyrian soldiers shot forward with a growl, but Ronan was quick and firm, barking, “Hold!” The soldier froze, a bead of sweat breaking out on his brow. “Do we move on nonviolent humans?” Ronan asked, his voice barely above a whisper but full of disapproval.
“No, sir,” the soldier answered.
“Apologize for your inappropriate action,” he demanded.
The solder bowed his head. “I am sorry, ma’am.”
“All is well,” she told him, and he stood back in line with his team, looking rueful. Sirah’s gaze returned to Ronan, new appreciation for his power, his authority. She might hate the way he was looking at her and her people, but she respected the way his men followed him almost blindly and had a feeling that she would as well, if she were one of them.
And she found that titillating.
Shoving that reaction deep down and ignoring it, she squared her shoulders and said, “I can guarantee that, while you may have preconceived notions about our race, you’ll find we hold to our word. There will be no underhanded of treacherous dealings on our part.”
“Very well. Shall we?” He motioned for her to enter the room first, and she gestured for Beaver and Bishop to join her. Ronan made no motion and didn’t speak, but two of his men fell out of line and followed him as he entered the small room behind her. Even his presence so close at her back made her tense, remembering how it felt for him to be pressed against her. She shivered at the thought and moved away from him, placing herself across the table as she took a seat, putting some distance between them.
Ronan’s men stood behind him at full attention, and her men mirrored the pose behind her. She felt her pride swell at their loyalty, the way they showed unity in that moment. It was an important detail, small but vital, and she would show her gratitude to them later.
When no one spoke, Sirah sighed. “You sent a message stating that you wanted to discuss a truce. I’m going to put the ball in your court to start negotiations.”
“I think that’s fair.” Back to business. She wasn’t sure what to think of this version of Ronan, and she waited for him to continue, telling herself not to judge or draw conclusions just yet. “We’d like to start with a ceasefire. We don’t expect to resolve every issue today, but we would like to lay the groundwork and come to an agreement that we will lay down weapons until we’ve either succeeded or come to a standstill.”
Was he talking down to her, as if she couldn’t understand her own language? This was crazy. His demeanor, the disparaging looks and tone, were maddening, and Sirah desperately wanted to tell him where he could shove his attitude. But she latched onto her modicum of control before she snapped and replied, “I would like to work something out, and I’m willing to agree to a truce until we reach an agreement.”
“I hope you aren’t assuming this is going to be a simple process,” he warned, wagging a finger at her like she was some child who had spoken out of turn. “This is about negotiation, and you’ll have to put away some of your selfish desires as a human and think of the greater good.”
This time, she couldn’t hold back, and she scoffed. “How dare you address me like that when I’ve been nothing but agreeable and accommodating?” Something flashed in his eyes at her words, and it was gone so quickly she nearly missed it. But it was enough that she nearly blushed and ducked her head in mortification.
As if her own use of those particular terms in regards to her behavior wasn’t bad enough, Ronan latched onto them with a vaguely hidden smirk. “I digress, you have been most cooperative and accommodating. And under the circumstances, I would have to acknowledge your agreeability and cooperation. Let’s continue down that path, shall we?”
Swallowing hard at the insinuation that she couldn’t guarantee meant what through her head—clandestine meetings in a cabin, absolute ecstasy by flames—Sirah forced herself to remain professional. “Yes, let’s. What are you asking for in return for an end to this conflict?”
He folded his hands in front of him on the table, and Sirah couldn’t help but glance down at his apt fingers, the same fingers that had stroked her so deliciously. No, she told herself. She wanted the ceasefire for her race, not because it would be acceptable to consort with these beasts. Even if she couldn’t imagine finding an equally capable lover.
With an arrogant expression, he stated, “Tyrians will take over the council, controlling the legal and political systems. In exchange, the extermination stops, and humans and all other races live under our rules and regulations. We’ll even offer education and military training to those who are willing and loyal.”
Sirah stared at him in disbelief, her jaw slack. She was speechless. He couldn’t believe they were going to agree to that, did he? This wasn’t the end goal but rather the beginning of negotiations. She had to believe that, and she shook her head adamantly. “We haven’t even offered docile races a spot on the council. Do you truly think you’re going to even get a slot
on the bench after bringing such violence and hatred? The likes of which we’ve eradicated and avoided for decades?”
He smiled placatingly. “I’m sure it’s hard to swallow, but I warned you this wouldn’t be easy. You have to realize that if we don’t get what we ask for, we still have the upper hand. We can devastate humankind and every other species now residing on this planet to the point that you beg us to take over and help you rebuild. We’ve studied your race for years, and we’ve seen how you’ve destroyed yourselves with the same prejudice that reigns supreme now. Perhaps it’s no longer human against human, but you show no respect to other beings. When the Palians sought refuge after their planet was attacked by a parasitic race, you invited them to stay. They’ve been model citizens on this planet, and yet, you haven’t made any space on your council for them.”
Sirah was well aware of the imperfection of the system, but that wasn’t the point. She couldn’t deal with political and racial issues if she was busy trying to assure her race survived. “That system was implemented long before I was born, before my parents were born. And that’s not the issue. You can’t muscle your way in and completely take over. What you’re talking about is genocide. Extinction. And that doesn’t earn you a spot on the council.”
Ronan leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at her, and while she wanted to reach across the table and slap him, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she kissed him. Chaos. That’s what would happen. And that was enough to make her hold back. “Do you really think you have the manpower, resources, or technology to best us?”
Standing and pressing her palms flat to the table, she gave him a challenging grin. “We lost two men yesterday, my friend, even in a retreat. How many did you lose?” She shook her head. “You can keep coming, but you don’t give us enough credit when it comes to making intelligent decisions and strategizing. Plus, we’re more motivated because this is our home, our planet, and we’ve been here for millions of years. You’ve just stepped foot on Earth, you have no familiarity with her, no connection to her, and most certainly no claim to her. That gives us the advantage.”
“Maybe for now. But we have reinforcements on the way. If you’re so intelligent, you must realize we didn’t all come in a single wave, and neither did our weapons.”
That didn’t make sense. The probes had found nothing, no other ships headed toward Earth from anywhere in the vicinity of the Tyrian planet. But she couldn’t take the words lightly and had to tread carefully, especially since they might have a technology that cloaked the presence of their ships in space. Not showing any shock, Sirah shrugged. “And we’re ready to meet those ships head on before they arrive.”
“Well, I guess we’re not going to get anywhere today.” He leaned back in the chair and folded his hands behind his head, as if he was simply relaxing on a beach. “I should have known your stubborn nature would get in the way or reason.”
“And your manifestation that you deserve absolute power without having earned it is standing in the way of your reason and understanding,” she fumed. How dare he say such things? If he wanted stubborn, she could show him how that looked. “If we can’t even talk and consider compromise, what’s the point of a truce?”
Now, he held up his hands to stop her. “You’ve heard and dismissed our initial request. I have to go back to my superiors to determine if we’re willing to offer other, less demanding terms. In order to do that, we still need the ceasefire. I have no intentions of breaking my word on that.” He produced a device similar to the communication device but with markings of a legally binding agreement. There were places to scan two different thumbprints. “It’s a simple agreement drafted that states if either side of the conflict makes a move of aggression until both sides have either reached a solution or determined there isn’t one available without bloodshed, a public execution of everyone at this summit from that party will be required.”
Sirah hesitated only a moment. She had no intention of breaking this temporary treaty, and if Ronan and his men violated it, she would take great pleasure in overseeing their deaths, although it would be a shame to dispense of such a fine specimen. Then again, the way he was acting today had her thoughts swirling back and forth in various directions. While she found his demeanor with his men arousing, she didn’t want those hands to touch her after the way he treated her. She felt dirty and disrespected, and that was a low blow, even for a Tyrian. And especially after her cooperation that night in the cabin.
Before she could change her mind and bash him over the head with a computer monitor, she touched her thumb to the device, heard the beep, and moved away. Ronan inserted his thumb into the other slot, after which there was a beep and a whir. “Agreement in place,” the device announced.
No longer able to look at him, Sirah turned and left the room without looking behind her, knowing Beaver and Bishop were at her back. She didn’t need to see the Tyrians. She knew they wouldn’t attack, and that’s why she marched down the hall, straight to the room she’d acquired for herself to take a long, hot shower and spend the night in a bed. It had been so long, and she just needed the one night to recover so she could face the following day.
She slammed the door behind her and fell on the bed, wishing she could just forget all of this for a while.
Chapter 7
Sirah grew restless quickly, never having any downtime in her schedule. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laid in a bed and stared at the ceiling for a minute, much less any real amount of time. Rather than waste valuable time, she decided to shower, and she took a few extra minutes to work up a good lather on her hair and skin, rinsing in the luxuriously hot water. They did alright at camp with amenities, but this was rich and relaxing.
Best of all, for the first time in who knew how long, she had a little privacy. They avoided sexual innuendo in the ranks since men and women often showered together and were in close quarters at all times, but she still didn’t invite roaming hands or wandering eyes, so she was always fully clad, except in her tent. Even then, she was modest, knowing she might be needed at any moment.
Maybe that was why she had been so eager to drop her defenses with Ronan. She didn’t have to keep up appearances. She had an excuse for weakness, having nearly died, and she was with someone she didn’t see every day and wouldn’t have to worry about emotions or the eventual fallout when a relationship didn’t ensue.
As she padded out of the bathroom, having stuck her clothes in the quick-wash-n-dry unit, she grimaced, wishing her mind hadn’t gone there. Couldn’t she just enjoy the moment, the beauty of being alone for a few hours? Why did she have to torment herself?
She walked over to the window, peering through the slit between the curtains that had to predate her parents’ romance. There was nothing to see. The sky was overcast, but it was warm, and a few of her men stood around, looking more at ease than they had for a year. At least they had accomplished something today. It may only end up being a temporary hiatus, but the reprieve was most welcome.
There was a television recessed into the wall, and she considered voicing it on. But a knock at the door made her jump, and she reached for the towel she’d discarded on the bed, a bit irritated that someone wanted to disturb her first mini-vacation since the war began. The doorknob turned, and she gasped as the door swung open. No one should have been able to get in…
Ronan stepped in and shut it with a quiet click, and Sirah froze, her towel hanging in front of her but not really covering anything. Dozens of emotions swirled through her, strong and hot, and she didn’t know if she would rather slap him across the face or pull him down on the bed. But then she processed his cocky smirk and clenched her jaw. “What are you doing here?”
This time when his eyes raked down her body, they were filled with nothing but heat so intense it burned her skin, even from a distance. When he met her gaze, the smirk was gone. “About today—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Ronan,” she cut him off, her anger rising. Ho
w dare he look at her like that and then bring up a sore subject? And how dare he burst into her room like this? “You need to leave.”
“Sirah, wait.”
She shook her head, finally gathering enough sense to wrap the towel around herself. She wasn’t exactly modest, and he’d already seen everything she had to offer, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be vulnerable right now. “I don’t want to hear it. You treated us like the scum you scrape off your shoes after you walk through the swamps. Your attitude was unacceptable, and I’m just glad I only made one mistake with you. You’re no different than the rest of your kind. I can’t believe I gave you the benefit of the doubt.”
“It’s not like that,” he said fiercely, sounding offended. “But I couldn’t come here today pandering to you knowing how most of my people feel. The men I brought with me would have rebelled if I’d come in soft.”
“That doesn’t mean you treat us like lesser beings. This is our home. My home.” Her voice rose, her rage spilling over. “You were condescending and rude. You insulted my intelligence. You were domineering and acted like you were entitled to anything you wanted. It’s not that simple, Ronan. Humans have worked this planet for ages, and you haven’t even been here for a nanosecond in the grand scheme of universal time. And now, you’ve busted into my private space, uninvited, making excuses for yourself.”
Sirah didn’t know when she’d started pacing, but she forced herself to stop and face him. A terrible idea. He wore an amused expression that only taunted her further.
“You enjoyed every minute of it,” he said, mirth in his tone. He took a step away from the door. It was only a couple of feet toward her, but her body reacted instantly, warming until dampness covered her inner thighs.
“Oh, now you’re just arrogant,” she threw back at him, trying to deflect. If she lied, it would show, and she couldn’t give away the truth of the matter—that his strength, if not his manners, had been terribly arousing.
Her Strict Captor Page 4
