Solar Wind Excerpts
Hero to the Rescue From the Love Scene
Chapter One
Earth Date: 2106
Port Chance, Quade's World
20 A.C. (After Colonization)
Slater rolled to his side, bringing Celeste with him. "Thank you," he breathed, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead. * * *
Slater continued running an experienced eye over the belly of his ship, always preferring to personally do his own preflight maintenance check before lifting. The way he saw it, there were four things you just never turned over to someone else's care: Your ship. Your gun. Your credits or your women--in roughly that order. It was a rule that had been firmly ingrained over the years.
A slow smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "My pleasure, Captain." Stroking the tightly corded muscles banding his ribs, she felt his heart kicking her palm. "Rest assured there's more where that came from."
"There is, huh?" His voice was husky from the passion they'd just shared. He squeezed her gently "Ahh Celeste...if only I could stick around long enough to take advantage of your sweet offer."
Even now as she watched all six-foot-three of him rise languidly from the bunk, Celeste easily read the male power he emanated, the heady virile control he held over women. Zeke Slater was a magnificent lover--merciless in his demands, yet at the same time always carefully attentive to his companion's responses. And it was this potent combination of opposites that women found irresistible.
Rising upon her elbows, she watched him cross the room. Tawny, sun-streaked hair spilled across his brow as he gathered his clothes off the floor. "Take me with you," she asked, her voice a soft pleading purr as he began dressing. Celeste's hopes rose a notch when his hand stilled on the fly of his pants and he smiled as if weighing her words.
"Take you with me where?" He studied her with an intensity that totally addled her brain.
"Come on, Slater," she pleaded, arming herself with the perfected pout that always got her what she wanted.
Zeke returned to her side, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he sat down and began pulling on his boots. "Celeste, we've been all through this before."
Tossing the cover aside, she scrambled to her knees to wrap her scented arms about his neck. "I guarantee you wouldn't be sorry."
Slater's deep laugh filled the small cabin. "Sorry? Hell I'd never survive."
"Sure you would." Dipping her head, she lightly nipped at the jagged scar marring the burnished flesh just below his right shoulder blade. If asked, Zeke would simply laugh and say it was a souvenir. Rumor said it was a grim reminder of a place called Steel and a rescue mission he'd been a part of.
Celeste tasted her way back to his ear and sighed. "I'd go easy on you. I promise."
Slater grinned. "You would, huh?"
"Zeke, would you at least think about letting me keep a dwelling for you here in port?"
Celeste felt Zeke's body stiffen, and with practiced ease she pressed her soft breasts against the hard muscled contours of his back. "I know we've been though this before," she purred, pressing her lips to the outer shell of his ear. "But lots of other captains do it."
"I'm not other captains." Gently peeling her arms from about his neck, he rose to his feet. "Come on Celeste, get dressed. Solar Wind's scheduled to lift in two and a half hours and I still have a slew of things yet to do."
A rush of heat surged through her as she climbed off the bunk, her lower lip jutting out in a display of pique. "This arrangement of ours is getting embarrassing."
"Oh yeah?" He turned to face her. "How's that?"
"All of my friends are aware that I'm the only one you seek out when you come to port, and--"
"You'd rather I see someone else?" he interrupted with endearing puzzlement.
"Of course not! It's just that it's becoming noticeable this is a nowhere arrangement for me."
A muscle clenched along his jaw as he retrieved her liquid soft dress off the floor and handed it to her. "Don't spoil the evening, Celeste. I've never led you to believe there could be anything more. Besides, we set the rules ourselves. Remember?"
Oh yes, she knew the damnable rules. And it was true; to remain uninvolved was as much her idea as his. However, between her desire to move up in social rank and his prowess as a lover, Celeste found herself willing to bend a rule or two.
She dressed quickly, the soft material hugging every curve as it settled into place. "But what if I want more?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Celeste knew she had just made an irrevocable mistake.
"Then I say it's time to move on."
"Look..." she whispered, drawing herself up against him, "We're good together, Slater."
With a soft chuckle he tweaked her nose. "Yeah, I have to agree with you there."
Rising up on her tiptoes she cupped his face. "So what do you say?"
He considered her for a long moment before answering, "That you'll have no trouble finding some eager pilot willing to accommodate you."
It wasn't the first time she'd badgered him about keeping a port-side dwelling. But this time she'd crossed the line, and it was obvious her arsenal of feminine charms held no weapon powerful enough to repair the damage.
Captain?"
With an air of dismissal, he moved to the wall and pressed a small intercom pad. "Slater here."
"They're preparing to load up, boss."
"On my way."
Damn him. As easy as that, it was over. Her gaze dropped to the black lace teddy lying rumpled at her feet and with a rush of indignation she swiftly kicked the fragrant item beneath the foot of his bunk. She'd not be so easily forgotten. With a sigh of resignation she stepped first into one sandal, then the other and came forward.
"I understand they're opening a new 'Made On Earth' shop in the spaceport mall," he said good-naturedly. Reaching for her hand, he pressed a sizeable cluster of credits into her palm. "Eight weeks ago half my hold was filled with their inventory. You ought to check the place out sometime."
Celeste knew instinctively as he escorted her off ship, she would not be invited back.
Finally making his way up the ramp, he entered the main hatch of the Solar Wind. No high security shipments this trip. No customs, and no time-consuming red tape to go through at the drop. With a little luck this would be a slide-in\slide-out run. Easing into the command seat, he watched the U-shaped screen snap to life before entering destination coordinates into the NAVCOMP. With a final pause he swept the perimeter vid-cams once again across the surrounding landing zone. To starboard, a private yacht was just lifting. To port several nearby freighters were taking on freight. The biker he'd noticed earlier was still circling the L.Z. No one seemed particularly interested in the Solar Wind, and that was just fine with him.
"I said I'm not moving until I see Captain Slater."
Zeke's pre-flight preparations were suddenly shattered by a familiar voice coming from the open hatch.
"And I already told y' the Capt.'s busy," came an equally disgruntled reply from Frank, Solar Wind's First Officer.
"Just because I'm not as smart as others doesn't mean--"
"Thaaat's right. It don't mean a thang. It ain't got nothin' to do with smarts--or how y' live. It has to do with the fact ee's busy."
"Then I'll just wait right here until he's not."
"Frank-" Slater called out without taking his eyes off the console.
But Frank wasn't listening. He was too busy addressing the shoddy young man standing just outside the main entry. "The Captn' can't be bothered right--"
"Frank," Slater tried again, this time with a little more force. "It's okay. Let him come in."
"But Boss--"
"It's all right. I've got a few moments."
"I need to talk to you, Captain," Leon broke in. "Gibby asked me to give you something important."
"I tried tellin' him yer busy," Frank interrupted, "but he don't seem t' wanna--"
"Its okay, Frank." Stifling a sigh, Slater finished entering the final sequence into the onboard computer before swiveling about. "Come on in, Leon. It's all right. I've got a few minutes."
"I won't take long." Spearing Frank with a scowl, the young man took off his hat and stepped inside the ship's main hatch to wait. "And just to let you know, Captain, my name's Wolf today", he said proudly.
"Then Wolf, it is." Grabbing what he figured to be his last breath of fresh air, Slater rose to his feet and bounded down a short flight of metal stairs to the entry. "Come on back while I get us both some coffee."
Ignoring his first officer's fixed stare, Slater led the way down the corridor and into the galley. "Have a seat," he said motioning toward a built-in booth, and hoping that whatever the kid had to say he'd make it quick. . Zeke suspected it had been one hell of a long time since Leon had showered. His unique essence would take a serious toll on the ship's atmosphere.
Leon eased into the booth, clearly making a point of ignoring the canister of biscuits sitting in the middle of the table--a point that didn't escape Slater's notice.
"You hungry?"
"Nah, I just ate. But thanks."
Slater nodded. Truth was, he probably hadn't seen a decent meal in weeks. But unless it was handled just so, a simple offer could backfire into an insulting handout. Slater knew the ritual. "Well, just in case you change your mind," he said, shoving the container toward Leon. "I'll get us some coffee, then you can tell me what's going on."
If the biscuits had never been offered, Leon would never touch them. But since they were, Slater figured several would be stuffed into a pocket by the time he returned.
"Here you go, man," he said, handing the rangy youth a steaming mug. "On the house." He settled onto the bench across from Leon. "So what's up?"
Wrapping both hands about his mug, Leon leveled his gaze. "Gibby wants you to know that there's trouble about to go down. He figured you might want to put in for an early departure before all hell breaks loose around here."
Slater halted his mug before taking a tentative a sip. "What sort of trouble?"
"Some guy on a bike is out there on a serious manhunt with a T-30 stuffed beneath his coat.
Slater's eyes narrowed. "I noticed the biker," he said, setting his coffee back down. "But I didn't notice the weapon."
"It's concealed. The only reason we saw it is because we've been watching him for a while. I doubt he's going to give up until he finds who he's looking for.
"Oh, and there's one more thing." Leon paused to dig into a pocket. "Gibby found this laying out on the landing zone not far from here."
Sitting in the center of Leon's outstretched palm was a woman's delicate hair comb adorned with five sparkling jewels.
There was little doubt of the comb's value as Slater reverently lifted it from Leon's hand. "Where did you get-"
"Gibby found it laying out on the L.Z."
Slowly turning the comb over in his hand, Slater leaned back in the chair and thoughtfully lifted his gaze. "I suspect the authorities will be interested in seeing this."
The kid huffed a laugh. "I'm sure they would, but you're the only one Gibby trusts with it."
"Me? But I have no idea when I'll be back this wa---"
"Yeah, but he wants you to hang onto it just the same until the owner can be found." Leon took another sip of his coffee then rose from the chair. "Well, I'd better be on my way if you're going to put in for that clearance."
"Wolf, wait a minute." Rising to his feet, Slater reached into his hip pocket and fingered out a credit clip. "If you or Gibby should find the owner or need to get a hold of me," he said withdrawing a small card from the clip, "contact this sector. They'll know how to reach me."
Leon accepted the card. "Okay," he said studying the inscription.
"And as for both you and Gibby," Slater added, withdrawing a folded credit. "Consider this reward money for both the warning as well as the recovery of the comb." Laying the credit on the table, he slid it toward Leon. "Somebody's going to be happy to see this again and will want you to have a reward."
Several pondering moments passed before Leon's glanced up. "Yes, I suppose there's nothing wrong with accepting a reward."
"I'm telling you, people do it all the time, man."
"Okay," he muttered, snatching up the tender and stuffing it into a pocket. "But Gibby isn't going to be happy about this."
"Well then, Wolf, you tell Gibby that I said it's the only way I'll hang on to this comb for him."
A wide toothless grin spread across Leon's young face as he rose from the bench. "I'll tell him, Captain-and thanks."
It was with mixed emotions that Leon made his way back down the boarding ramp. Technically, everything he had said was true. But it wasn't what he'd said as much as what he hadn't said that was eating at him--the minor little detail he had deliberately left out of the telling. The part about Gibby having smuggled onboard a girl in a crate.
He liked and respected Captain Slater. In truth, he was one of very few who treated him and Gibby with a genuine kindness. He just hoped he wouldn't be too angry when he discovered the girl. And he would discover her, there was little doubt of that.
"Good heavens! Why in lasers did y' have t' invite 'im in?" Frank asked, furiously fanning the air. "Whew-eee!"
Striding to the nearby controls, he switched the air filter on high.
Slater laughed.
"And then," Frank went on, "when y' invited him to sit down fer coffee and a friendly little chat…hell, I was beginnin' to think y' were gonna ask 'im t' stay for breakfast too." Snatching the canister of biscuits off the table, Frank stomped directly to the trash.
"Frank, I need you to put in a request for an immediate lift," he said, ignoring his first officer's on-going tirade.
"Already in the works. Clearance should be comin' through any moment."
"Good." Slater's attention was riveted on the comb as he turned it over in his hand. "You know what this is, don't you?"
"Yeah, a woman's hair bauble."
"It's a little more than that." On a hunch, Slater carefully pressed what looked to be a touch point along the top ridge of the comb. Immediately a miniature compartment snapped open revealing a hidden micro disc no larger than one of the jewels decorating its surface.
"I'll...be...damned," Frank murmured.
Within minutes, clearance had been confirmed and Solar Wind was lifting for space with a thunderous roar. Having entered a code into the onboard computer, Slater watched as crucial data began flooding the screen. Speed. Altitude. Fuel Consumption. ETA. It was all there-an electronic version of "Relax, I've got everything under control."
Quade's World belonged to the Sector Five Star System--a backyard neighbor to Earth's own solar system, and originally discovered during Earth's so-called "Race For Space" era. Thanks to the dimension-twisting realm of travel called hyperspace, a seventy-five-year-void between the two star systems was now reduced to a little over eight weeks.
"Boss, what do y' make of this?" Frank asked from across the helm, his eyes fixed on an overhead monitor.
Rising from his seat, Slater moved to stand behind his first officer. "Make of what?"
"Portal Screen B." He hitched his chin toward a pulsing red indicator.
Slater paused, his eyes following Frank's. "Looks like something has shifted back there."
"Yep, that's what I figured too, but check this." Frank's craggy gray brows drew together in concentration as he tapped in another directive. "Unless I'm mistak'n, I'd say we picked ourselves up some live freight back in Port Chance."
In silent speculation the captain's eyes narrowed as he watched the security vid-cam quickly replay the last thirty seconds of activity.
"You want me to run a backup on the sensors, Boss?"
"No. I've got a better idea." Descending the short flight of stairs to the corridor, Slater snagged his jacket and a holstered weapon off a hook, wrenching them on as they made their way down the narrow passage.
Lights snapped to life and a host of familiar scents greeted them as they stepped inside the ship's cargo bay. A pungent mixture of imported rarities greeted them-exotic spices, fresh produce as well as the unmistakable odor of raw textiles.
"I want out!" came a muffled, yet decidedly feminine voice.
"Y' hear that?" Frank asked, his breath forming in the chilled air of the ship's hold.
"Over there." Slater's eyes were focused on a stack of shipping modules lined along the starboard wall. "That damned Celeste," he muttered.
"Celeste? Y' don't think she'd be so foolish as t'--"
"I wouldn't put anything past her." The sleek blue-black barrel of Slater's weapon quietly slid from its holster as they wormed their way among the tightly stacked freight. If nothing else, he'd give her the scare of her life.
The muffled sounds came again. Stronger. More urgent. The insistent kicking and thumping coming from the far corner.
Thunk! "Somebody, let me out of here!" Thunk! "Dammit! I'm freezing." Thunk! Thunk!
"Since when did we start haulin' talkin' veggies?" Frank asked, grinning as they drew to a halt before a fresh produce container.
A muttered curse was Slater's low-voiced reply as he disengaged the lock on the vented crate. "All right, Celeste! Come on out." And with a swift upward motion that belied the weight of the cumbersome lid, he threw it back.
"It's about time somebo...dee..." Kira Delaney's voice trailed into quivering silence as bright overhead light spilled into the crate--even as Slater's lips formed a whispered curse.
Frank's long, breathy whistle finally broke the silence. "Y' want me to check the next crate over for Celeste?" he asked, his gravelly voice dripping with unmasked laughter.
No response.
Squinting against the glare, it took a moment for Kira to realize she was eye-level with the business end of a Sheldon mini-blaster. In numb fascination she slowly rose to her knees, ignoring the pain in her cramped limbs. Her gaze slid beyond the muzzle of the weapon to taut-muscled thighs and narrow hips clad in dark leathers. She swallowed, her silent perusal inching upward to linger briefly upon a magnificent torso with shoulders so broad they seemed to block out all else. At last her eyes came to rest on the grim face of the man towering before her.
And their gazes locked.
"Kira." Slater's flat statement clearly linked disbelief with reluctant recognition. In truth, he looked as though he'd just opened the lid on Pandora's Box.
Slowly rising to her feet, Kira extended a frigid hand. "Well? Are you going to shoot me or help me out of here?"
Lowering his weapon, he reached for her hand.
"I'll say this much," she added as he hauled her out of the shipping container, "you certainly know how to make a girl feel welcome." The facade of flippant nonchalance was taking every ounce of self-discipline Kira possessed.
With a muttered curse he released her, leaving her to slump against the cargo pod while he re-holstered his weapon. Next he began shrugging out of his black taubear-hide jacket. "Here," he said, draping the garment about her shoulders. The butter-soft leather was heavy; his lingering body heat heaven to Kira's chilled flesh. "You'd better have one hell of an explanation."
"Zeke I--"
"How the devil did you manage to slip past security?"
"I can explain everything if you'll just give me a--"
He huffed soft laugh. "Yeah, I'll just bet you can."
Frank stood there eyeing the exchange with amused curiosity. Slater, with a heavy sigh, glanced briefly away. "Next port..." he said, his eyes cutting back to meet hers, "I'm putting you on the first liner bound for home."
"But Zeke-"
"Later, Kira. I'm not ready for one of your stories right now." He turned to make his way back toward the exit.
"But you won't believe--"
"A single word."
A strained hush suddenly filled the air as she stared at Zeke Slater's retreating back. Offering the older man a lame smile, Kira summoned as much dignity as her depleted strength would allow and started after Zeke, her frozen, cramped limbs protesting every step. "But it...it's different this time."
That stopped him. He turned to face her. "Okay. I give. What is it this time, Kira? Customs? Port Security? An irate vendor? Tell me if I'm getting warm." Without giving her a chance to answer, he added, "I do know one thing. If those security vids caught you climbing into that produce crate, you can bet your sweet ass they know exactly where you are. Next, they'll be notifying us of your presence and arranging for me to hand you over to the authorities at the next drop." He smiled blandly. "Four years...and nothing's changed, has it?"
Kira followed him out of the hold on shaky legs. Time certainly hadn't altered his low opinion of her. That much was obvious. To him she was still Renn Delaney's little hellion. "Why is it you've always chosen to believe the worst in me?" she asked, half-running to keep up with him.
"Let's just call it experience." He turned to face her while waiting for a safety lock to cycle open. "Unlike some people, I make it a point to learn from mine."
A Hero to the Rescue
Why did he have this sinking feeling? Although he knew very little of the bonding rite, he knew it was an old tradition occasionally embraced by the smaller settlements.
According to custom, any female without either a brand on the inside of her wrist and a male escort at her side, was fair game for any eligible male. And it was just one of several reasons why he'd taken Frank aside and insisted he not let Kira out of his sight.
Zeke pressed closer, trying to see past the gathering crowd, straining to hear what was being said. It was then he heard Frank's unmistakable voice raised in anger.
Shortly thereafter came another distinctive voice, "I said, take your hands off me!"
"Ah Mannn." With his mind racing and adrenaline raging through his veins, Slater pushed his way through the crowd until he could see into the center opening.
Sure enough. There she stood, toe to toe with a tall, olive-skinned warrior whose beefy hand was wrapped about her wrist. Another warrior held Frank at bay, and a third man was looking Kira over as though she were merchandise. The thing was, this third man appeared to be more than just a warrior. Slater frowned, trying to remember what that particular style of headdress meant.
Then it hit him. Hell, he was a damned Shakari. No wonder the bodyguards. Geez, Kira, why pick a lowly warrior, when you can have a Shakari. Damn, he hated redheads.
His gaze slid to Frank. The old man was still arguing.
Well shit. Having quickly calculated all possible options, Slater pushed his way through the remainder of the crowd and stepped into the opening. "She's mine."
Instantly Kira stopped her struggling and twisted about to face him, but Slater's eyes were locked in silent challenge with the man who seemed to be in command.
Again he spoke in the native tongue. "I said: She's mine."
"And what proof have you of this? I see no token of ownership. She bears no brand of claim, no shroud about her head. You were not at her side when I first came upon her."
"True..." Slater pulled his stare away, centering it upon Kira. "But she's mine just the same, and I claim both her and the unborn child she carries in her belly." He waited to see what the Shakari would do with that little tidbit of news.
"She is with child?" he asked, regarding Slater with piercing intensity.
"She is," he lied.
The man frowned. "And you are not bonded with her?"
"Nope." Peeling off his sun glasses, Slater made a production of cleaning them with the end of his shirt.
"Then...this child-it is not yours?"
Slater shrugged. "Can't say for sure, but since I'm the one who's been with her the most..." Leaving the sentence hanging, and with an air of supreme confidence, he lifted the sunglasses toward a shaft of light, inspecting them for smudges. "Yeah, I figure it's mine."
Several moments of silence passed while the Shakari mulled things over. "Then... she has been with another besides you?" he asked with obvious incredulity.
Satisfied, Slater put the sunglasses back on. "Oh I'd say about half the crew." He watched a dark scowl form on the Shakari's tanned face as he turned to stare at Kira.
The crowd grew still.
Slater could only imagine what the man was thinking. From his expression, he obviously believed Kira to be a whore. And that was fine. Whatever it took to shake his interest.
Meanwhile, unaware of the slur that had just been bestowed upon her character, Kira's eyes went from Slater to the Shakari, to Frank. "What are they talking about?"
"Damned if I know."
"So what do you say, chief? You want to tell your watchdog here to get his hands off her, and we'll be on our way?"
Several moments of silence passed before the warrior drew his gaze away from Kira. "Because of her great beauty I am willing to shelter both her and her child with my name and my home."
"I don't think so sport," Slater muttered beneath his breath.
"Zeke, why do I have this feeling you're making things worse?"
"Stay out of it, Kira."
"But he wasn't scowling at me until you got involved."
"You had everything all under control, did you?" His gaze slid purposefully to her entrapped wrist.
"Well at least he wasn't looking at me the way he is now. What did you say to him?"
Slater drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Nothing to be concerned about."
"What did he say to him?" she asked, directing the question to Frank.
"Beats me. Myself, I never did learn to talk the language."
"There seems to be only one way for us to settle this," the Shakari said. "Because we both lay claim to her, I challenge you in the ancient way for possession of this woman."
Once again Kira tried wrenching her arm free and failed. "The least someone could do," she sputtered, "is find out what he wants."
"I know what he wants, Legs."
"Well then give it to him, and charge it to Major--"
"He wants you."
She fell silent.
"Capt'n, it wasn't her fault. I'm the one who walked away. I wanted t'--"
"She was warned, Frank."
"But I'm tellin' y' I walked away from her. Not the other way around."
Slater turned to Kira. "We do this my way, or you're on your own. No interruptions, no arguments and no questions."
"Yes, yes. Anything. Just make him get his hands off me."
"And that's another thing. When you're released, stay right where you are. For godsake don't come running over here."
"If you think--" At his look the words died in her throat.
Slater's gaze returned to the Shakari. "Okay, let's get it over with. I've wasted enough time as it is."
As promised, Kira remained quiet while Zeke and the Shakari haggled out the details. Soon the meaty grip on her wrist fell away, and as instructed, she remained in place, eyes locked on Zeke as he casually turned and made his way to Frank. Speaking in undertones, he sent Frank back to the ship to wait.
At last, he came to her side. "This way," he muttered with a nod that directed her away from the market place.
"Am I free now?" she asked.
"Not hardly." They were proceeding toward an awaiting ground runner. "After you." Inclining his head he indicated she enter the air-conditioned vehicle.
"Where are we going," she asked as he settled in next to her.
"To a bonding challenge," came his taut reply.
"Bonding chall--"
"Don't even ask."
"Look, this is not my fault. I didn't do anything wrong."
He made no reply.
They followed a winding road for approximately 15 kilometers before cresting a hill that overlooked an oasis on the other side. In silence, Kira's gaze was fixed upon a large cluster of white tent-like structures spread out across the valley floor.
Soon the ground runner was making its way down into the basin. Skirting the main portion of the settlement, they came to a halt before the largest pavilion of all. A guard came forward to open the vehicle's door and usher them inside.
Incense hung heavy. Muted lighting was offset by brightly colored panels of cloth draping the walls and ceiling. Coordinating pillows were clustered about low tables, and in the center, an arena-like area had been cleared of all furnishings. "Zeke," Kira whispered, "what is this place?"
Her answer came in the form of a dark, quelling look. Catching her by the arm, he pulled her close. "Kira," he began in a lowered tone. "These people not only have unusual laws, they have even crazier customs. If I don't happen to come out the winner here...I want you to know you'll be okay. You won't be hurt."
"Zeke, you're scaring me. You wouldn't leave me here, would you?"
"Not without exhausting all resources, no. But, if it comes to that, and until I can figure something out, you've got to promise me that you'll do exactly as you're told. You understand what I'm saying?"
She nodded woodenly.
"Say it!"
"Yes. I understand."
"Dear God," he breathed, "I hope so...I sure as hell hope so."
Excerpt from the Love Scene
Kira swallowed, unable to drag her eyes from his. Never had she felt so helpless, so out of control as she did with this man at this moment. And after last night she could no longer deny that her feelings went beyond the big brother mentality. Far beyond. Zeke Slater was anything but a safe haven. He was dangerous and it was odd how the very thought sent a thrill down her spine. What a change these last weeks had brought. She hardly went to bed anymore without dreaming of being in his arms, fantasizing that he would see her as more than just an annoyance out of his past...
For what purpose? That cynical inner voice was laughing again. That he might desire you...surely not love...you?
A heated flush swept clear to her hairline as her mind and heart sluggishly acknowledged the silly illusion. Any minute now, he would mock her, remind her once again that she was little more than excess baggage, a damned nuisance who had cost him much in credits, time and aggravation. Plus, by law, she was still a slave. And were he ever to be caught with her in his possession, it could mean a variety of severe penalties.
She started to step back.
Zeke grabbed her arm. "You shouldn't be here, Kira." The roughness of his tone, the raw desire in his eyes stole her breath. Kira swallowed, unable to speak. Heat from his hand sluiced through her like a fire, making her gasp. Once again, her body was turning traitor and there was nothing she could do about it. Even if she wanted to.
"You have any idea what you're doing to me?" His voice sounded hoarse. Tormented.
Truth was, if it was anything similar to what he did to her, she had a very good idea. A searing flame shot through her as she glanced down at his bronzed, callused hand imprisoning her arm. They were so opposite.
He was bronzed. She was fair.
He was hard. She was soft.
He was lethal…and the very thought sent a bolt of lightening to the pit of her stomach. Was it fear or intrigue? She was finding it harder to differentiate between the two.
Kira lifted her eyes. Tawny sun-streaked hair was swept back, spilling over his collar like liquid. He was the most ruggedly handsome man she'd ever set eyes on. Oh yes, she had a very good idea what he might be feeling.
"When I was eighteen," she began in a breathless whisper, "our team of rescuers received an anonymous lead that an escaped slave was hiding inside a restricted zone. I volunteered to cross the barricade and search for him." She shrugged and smiled lamely. "We had no way of knowing it was a set-up. Or that once I crossed the boundaries, the lance of a stun-laser would flash out of nowhere."
Zeke's grip on her arm loosened.
"The first impact knocked me to the ground. The second drove the air from my lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe. There was a terrible roaring in my ears and every nerve ending in my body was on fire."
With still, grey eyes he searched her face and listened.
Kira released a deep, shaky sigh and went on. "When I'm with you-when you touch me-" She swallowed, then whispered "I feel like that all over again."
His grasp on her arm fell away.
There. She'd said it. Fearing his laughter more than anything, she dared not so much as a single breath while awaiting his reaction.
A gamut of emotions moved across Zeke's face. Not one of which even remotely suggested amusement. Cool grey eyes searched her features. A tremor lanced through her when he reached out and caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles.
"Kira." There was a tenderness in his husky voice, a softness in his gaze…and he'd called her by her name. Not Legs.
The next instant, her left hand was being lifted and turned over. And when his focus dropped to the indelible design on the underside of her wrist, she swallowed. Knees weakening, Kira nearly moaned aloud when he'd brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips into her palm. From there he moved to her wrist, and with a kiss that nearly curled her toes, he reverently embraced the very symbol that bound them together.
The roaring in her head returned. Breathless and spellbound by his slow gentleness, Kira closed her eyes, nearly crying out as a rush of longing surged to every nerve ending in her body.
"Mon Siante," he muttered thickly, taking her face in his trembling hands. And lowering his head, he took her parted lips in a slow, drugging kiss.
Kira melted into him as he slid one arm around her waist drawing her up against his body. She could feel his open palm splayed across her lower back, pressing his hard angles against her soft ones.
"I want you," he whispered roughly against her mouth.
Her knees nearly buckled. She wanted him too, wanted to know this tender side that he hid so well behind stormy emotions and a ruthless façade. Wanted to know what it felt like to be made love to by this man. And yet, what did she know about the ways of love? The years before Renn's death had been so caught up in helping out on the rescue team, there'd never been thought, let alone time for romance.
With a low growl, Zeke's hand slid down to cup her bottom, pulling her intimately against him. The action brought her hips even harder against his taut thighs and hard length.
So physical.
So explosive.
So dangerous.
And deep inside-where no one could see-Kira's inexperienced little heart was suddenly scared to death.
You are never too old to learn, and never too tired to adventure!
Stupidity is not worth losing friends over...Forgiveness is priceless.
Romance at Heart Magazine
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©2008 Romance at Heart Publications