Determined not to panic, she entered the fray outside and almost smiled at the efficiency of her crew. They could have been in a frenzy, letting fear get the best of them, but no one was falling apart or acting careless. They all moved quickly but with purpose, focusing on the task at hand, and they’d made significant progress in just a few minutes’ time. Hope flared strong in her chest, and it was only then that Sirah realized how little hope she’d felt after hearing the message.
With renewed vigor, she hurried to the mess hall and joined the lineup of soldiers hoisting hefty cuts of meat and cheese and tossing them into portable coolers. They were leaving a lot of canned goods behind, the weight not worth the effort, but there were grains and proteins being gathered into the most concise packaging possible. They would continue the work until the last minute, and then they would strike out for safety.
A whistle blew, and Sirah straightened, arching her back to stretch it. She glanced around, taking a quick inventory of what they had. It wasn’t slim pickings, and they would be alright, but it was far less than she wished they could take. Others from throughout the camp joined them, some bearing bulging packs of weapons and ammo, others with hygiene supplies, navigation devices, and other tools they could use. It was her cue.
They stood in silence, staring at her as she climbed on top of a table to address them. She trusted the basics had been communicated, so she didn’t waste time on details. “I need everyone to buddy up. I don’t want anyone falling out of rank. We have to move quickly. I can’t tell for certain how far ahead we are of this attack, but we don’t have much time. We’re heading west first. Two miles out, we’ll turn north, sweeping behind us for the first half mile to throw them off our track. Be alert. Be ready. I don’t want any surprises causing us extra problems. Any questions?”
There was no protest, no confusion. Dozens of men and women saluted her and began shouldering packs and pairing up to carry larger items. She glanced down, finding Bishop and Charlie grabbing handles on one of the larger coolers, and she waved to Beaver. She’d have him at her side, helping her spot anything lurking in the trees and the dark with his eagle vision. She hopped down, pulling the straps of her own bag onto her back and turning toward Beaver. “What are you bringing?”
“I’ve got the night vision goggles, laser sights, and some other fun things that might come in handy.” He was enthusiastic, as if he enjoyed all of this. “We’re good to go.”
Sirah smirked at him. “You know, this is a different side of you, not the guy in the trenches on the battlefield.”
He shrugged. “If everything goes as planned, we’ll be indoors with air conditioning in a few hours. It sucks we have to leave so much behind, but it’ll be a good diversion for these jackasses.” He smiled and winked. “I think just a relocation will give us some time to really figure out how to get them by the balls.”
Sirah couldn’t help but smile back. His excitement and faith in their escape were contagious. It only took a few minutes for her troops to line up, and they struck out. Considering the direness of the situation, she wasn’t concerned with noise, the need for speed trumping trying not to call attention to themselves. It was better to crash through the woods and hope they had enough advanced warning than it was to move slowly and risk getting ambushed.
The first two miles were uneventful, and she found herself hoping it remained so as they turned due north. It was slower now, the need to cover their movement holding them back, but they’d made excellent time, and if they managed to cover the half mile without leaving a trace, they could get back up to that pace again and hit the suburban supermarket without incident.
Beaver cleared his throat, lifting his high-power binoculars, and shook his head. “There are a couple of scouts out ahead of the others, maybe three miles away.” He flipped the switch, turning on the heat seeking technology. “Yeah, I count three of them, and they have no clue where we are. They’re still expecting to find us at camp.”
That brightened her spirits. “They’ll see we’re gone and assume we’ve hidden and planned an ambush of our own. It’ll slow them down. They’ll have to stop and come up with their next move, where to strike.” Sirah nodded to herself. “We’re almost out ahead of this. Cross your fingers, my friend. We just might get out unscathed this time.” She found herself considering the ways in which she would thank Ronan when she saw him again. He’d made a ballsy move, one that could have him labeled as a traitor, and she had the lives of her people because of it.
When the first buildings came into view, the tension noticeably lightened, and there were happy murmurs throughout the group behind her, even laughter. It had been a long time since they’d spent a night in a proper city, and even if their accommodations weren’t going to be luxurious, it was with other people. Maybe they’d even have a chance to interact, socialize a bit.
With relief, she crossed onto the paved road, and they picked up to a light jog, headed straight for the large building that loomed on the horizon like a giant dark block beneath the twinkling light of a few stars and a quarter moon. She moved ahead with Beaver and Bishop to talk to whoever was responsible for the place right now, and as soon as that was settled—without protest—they started filtering into the place through the dock door at the back.
Suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline rush came to an end, Sirah leaned against the building, watching the woods from a hidden vantage point, tucked into a doorframe on the corner of the facility. She closed her eyes briefly against the burning ache in them and gasped as she was grabbed from behind, one arm around her waist and another hand clapped over her mouth.
“Shh, it’s me.” Sirah nearly screamed before the voice registered, and she sagged against Ronan’s hard body. Turning in his arms, she gaped at him.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Or worse, get me put on trial for treason?”
“Relax. I figured your trajectory, and I have a few men with me, tracking the rogue militia. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
She blinked at him. “And you thought it was a good idea to share that notion with some of your men?” This was insanity.
A muscle worked in his jaw, and he scrubbed a hand down his face, which was just as dark as the surrounding shelter that shrouded them, keeping them out of view. “There are actually quite a few sympathizers with my position. There just happens to be someone leading an operation that goes against everything I believe, and I think the traitor’s in my camp. So I have to be careful.” As if he couldn’t help himself, he reached out and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to his. She liked that, the way he showed so much concern. “Is everyone alright?”
She shrugged and nodded. “We all got out just fine. We left more than two-thirds of our supplies and food, though.”
“I have a plant with the militia. They’re going to gather everything you left behind and take it as spoils rather than destroy it. I’ll make sure you get it back.” His shoulders sagged, and he seemed relieved. “I can’t stay. But I had to make sure you made it.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice raw with the release of pent up emotions. “Now, get out of here. I’ll send you a message later. Because I definitely need to blow off some steam soon.”
He winked and laid a quick but enticing kiss on her. “I’ll see you soon.” Then, he practically melted into the darkness.
Chapter 9
Sleep evaded Sirah as she lay on the thin spread of her backpack, which doubled as a bed roll, the cold of the concrete floor barely held at bay by the meager insulation. She’d used it too many times now and needed to replace it eventually. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and she was beginning to think the war would end or kill her before she got a new one.
Bishop’s roll was to her left, but he was standing guard for the next few hours out front. To her right, Beaver snored shamelessly, curled up on his side with a sweater wadded under his head for a pillow. He looked so young and innocent
in that moment, and she was more grateful than ever that Ronan had warned her early enough for them to escape.
But she still couldn’t fathom why he would take such a risk. She wanted answers, and she wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep until she had them. She fought the urge as long as she could, lying there stiff as a board, but she needed to rest. Getting to her feet as quietly as she could, she tiptoed through the lines of beds in the warehouse toward the bathroom. It was the only private area in the entire building, and she needed a few minutes alone to send a message.
She checked all three stalls before locking the exterior door and hunkering down in one of them, pulling the communicator from her pocket. She stared at it in her palm for a moment, debating once more the merit of sending another message to Ronan. It was late, and she felt as if they’d had too much contact today already, but she was desperate. Desperate for answers, and desperate to touch him to remind herself that he was real and that, despite the odds, he’d somehow become an ally.
Pressing the button, she spoke quickly. “Ronan, I need to see you. I don’t know how or where, but we need to talk. The sooner the better.” She pressed the button again to send and prepared to wait.
The response came in less than a minute. “If you can get to the edge of the woods without being missed, I’ll find you. Half an hour.”
Her heart thudded against her ribs, and her nerves buzzed with excitement. She chided herself for such a reaction, as if she was a schoolgirl with a crush. That’s not what this was. And really, she should be nervous. How was she going to sneak past her own vigilant guards and creep out to the woods without being spotted?
And then it hit her. Every building over a certain square footage had installed an underground entrance when the first wave of new residents from other solar systems had started to arrive, the same sort of paranoia that had fueled the bomb shelter craze in the sixties causing corporations to find ways to secretly get people and supplies in and out of their buildings in case of emergency. They’d mostly been sealed off, but she could find her way out. She just needed a flashlight, and she needed to get to the exit, which would likely be in the manager’s office.
Biting her lip, she left the bathroom and grabbed the first flashlight she found, stored on a shelf in the warehouse. She slid silently down the hall toward the office, and to her relief, she managed to slip through the door that led to stairs downward without a problem. She made her way along the dark tunnel, mostly packed dirt with wire mesh reinforcing the walls and ceiling, holding the flashlight in front of her to guide her. It seemed to go on forever, and Sirah had the urge to turn back more than once, but eventually, she found what she was looking for. The metal ladder was only a little rickety, and she climbed it, easily pushing the cover up and out of her way. She poked her head out, wondering why this hadn’t been secured and locked, but it was in the middle of the forest, and dried leaves rained down around her where they’d hidden the entrance.
She turned off the flashlight as she stood and spun, trying to get her bearings. She didn’t need the bright beacon calling attention to her. The dim light of the quarter moon filtered through the trees at the edge of the woods, and she hurried toward the tree line, staying hidden in the shadows and peering into the darkness in search of motion. Ronan’s camouflaged skin would make him almost impossible to spot, but that didn’t stop her from trying.
She heard a quiet rustling to her left and froze. “It’s me,” Ronan said in a low voice, stepping around a tree and right in front of her.
He had changed and now wore only a tight pair of leather pants she could only refer to as breeches. He was barefoot, and she wondered if he was camping nearby. She didn’t ask, her throat dry at the sight of him. The urge was too great to resist, and she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck, wrapping her legs around his waist and clinging as she captured his lips with bruising force. His hands cradled the small of her back and the nape of her neck, his desire pouring out in the way he kissed her back, as if she was water and he was dying of thirst.
When she came up gasping for air, she stared into his eyes, which held an almost violet glow that hypnotized her briefly. Finally, she managed to get out the words she desperately needed to say. “Thank you. You saved hundreds of lives tonight. I’m not sure why you did it, but I’m eternally grateful.”
He smiled at her, but it held no taunting. It softened his features a little, and she nearly gasped at his incredible beauty, her heart dropping into her stomach and turning flips even as her core heated and dripped at the feel of his cock hardening against her. “You deserved the chance to survive.” His fingers stoked her neck, and she moaned. “It would be a shame for your light to be put out too soon. Or any of your men.”
It sounded like a line, and it could have been corny, but he was sincere and tender with his words. Something inside Sirah snapped, and this time, when she kissed him, it was a languid, exploratory act, as if she could learn everything about him through the effort. Wasn’t there an ancient song that said something about knowing a man’s feelings in his kiss?
And she found something shocking as his tongue stroked hers, gentle and sweet. There was care in the way he handled her, and it was more than just physical attraction. The sensation swelled inside her as his cock swelled to attention pressed to her most intimate parts.
“Ronan,” she groaned into his mouth.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against her lips, his breath tickling and his chest vibrating. She pushed tighter against him, and he grunted in approval, his hand dropping from her back to the curve of her ass and gripping firmly. “You could drive a man wild, you know that?”
Breaking the kiss but not backing away, she leaned her forehead against his. “And what about taming him?”
He chuckled, the sound resonating deep inside him. “Is that what you want?” Sirah didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. She adored the untamed beast within him, the way he lost control when they came together, but a part of her suddenly wondered if that was all for her or if it was just a part of who he was and how he reacted to women in general. Maybe, in some ways, she did want to tame him, take him for her own.
“Maybe,” she whispered, grazing her fingers over his back and then around to his arms and broad chest. “I’m so confused, Ronan. I’ve never been so at a loss when it comes to knowing the right thing to do. I’ve always had excellent intuition and gut instincts, but you make me lose all of that without even trying.”
“The feeling is mutual,” he growled at her. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach as he dropped to his knees in the thick floor of leaves below them, and she grew excited with anticipation as he laid her back into the pile. “I can’t get you out of my head, can’t stop thinking about you. All I want to do is take you back with me and lock you in my room, where you’re safe with me. Where I can look at you, appreciate your beauty whenever I please.” As he spoke, he caressed her with the back of his knuckles, her cheek, the curve of her breast, the sinewy flank of her stomach, and over her hip. “I’ve never been so distracted by anything or anyone, and I’m not sure what to do about it.”
The confession made her slightly uncomfortable, but his fingers were doing strange things to her insides until she felt like she was boiling again in an iron cauldron over flames hot enough to incinerate her. “What does that mean?” she heard herself ask, though she wasn’t sure she’d actually thought of the words before they escaped her lips.
“It means you can have the beast, or you can tame me. At this point, I would give you anything you asked within my power, just to know that you wanted me as much as I want you.”
Sirah couldn’t let the underlying meaning affect her now. She had to pretend she only took it at face value, or she just might break beyond repair. She shouldn’t be feeling these things for a Tyrian—for an enemy. But Ronan was so much more than that. He’d already become an integral part of her life in so many ways, and she found herself having to tuck away
errant thoughts about incorporating him into more of her existence.
“I do want you,” she told him boldly, letting her hands roam over him, finding his erection and massaging it gently through the breeches. “I couldn’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about the way your body feels against mine, about what it’s like to have you inside me, filling me up and giving me the most pleasure I’ve ever known.”
“Then let me give it to you again, just to make sure it’s etched firmly in your memory. Let me take you and satisfy you and make you beg for more.” With deft movements of his fingers, he made fast work of her pants, and she kicked them off while he unlaced his own, freeing a pulsating erection that had her licking her lips. She wanted to taste him, but he shook his head, as if he knew where her thoughts were going. “Not this time. When we have more time for luxuries like that, I’ll be more than happy to let your wrap your lips around my cock. But tonight, it’s about pleasing you.”
Sirah started to argue that it would please her to draw him into her mouth and suck and lick until he exploded down her throat, but he silenced her with a kiss, probing at her center with his head. As he thrust into her, she tensed, working to hold back an overwhelming urge to come on the spot. She found it utterly amazing that he could have her so close just sliding into her. With other men, she’d needed so much attention, so much additional coercion. Sometimes hours of foreplay didn’t even bring her to completion. Even those who had managed to break through the icy surface and help her find her pleasure hadn’t been able to do it so easily, with just penetration. And the orgasms had been acceptable but not life-altering.
As Ronan slid in and out of her with slow, sensual rolls of his hips and a confidence warranted by his skill, Sirah wondered if all Tyrians were this good at sex. But then, the thought faded with the realization that, even if they were, it would never feel this good, never intoxicate her like this. It was Ronan. Something about him just called to her, and her body responded.
Her Strict Captor Page 6
