Authors: Cyndi Friberg
“I’m not sure you got it all.” He took a handful of liquid soap and warmed it between his palms. “Your skin looks irritated right here.” Moving with careful patience, he slid his hands from her shoulders to her neck. She started violently when his fingers skimmed the ring implanted in her flesh. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Stop touching me.” She shivered and grabbed his wrists.
A smaller connector marred the upper curve of her left breast, and he’d glimpsed several others scattered along her spine. This must be how her armor interfaced with her implants.
“I want to make sure you got the gash nice and clean. You don’t want it to get infected, do you?” He stepped closer, until her shower ran over them both. Teasing her temple with his fingertips, he slid his other hand down to her wrist. He held her right hand against her thigh and pulled her against him. Her warm, soft breasts pressed against his chest, and he sighed. “Oh, that’s nice.”
“What are you doing?” Her tone hitched, and she pushed against his shoulder with her free hand.
Without her suit were her implants able to calm her physical responses? Interesting question. “Say your name, or I’ll kiss you.”
Her eyes widened. “That is irrational.”
“We already established that I’m irrational. Now say your name, or I’m going to kiss you.”
“My distinction is —”
He cut her off with his mouth. She wiggled against him, her stiff nipples teasing his chest. After brushing his lips against hers, he nipped the corner of her mouth.
“You’re a woman, Saebin, not a machine. You’re naked, in the arms of a man who wants you. How does that make you feel?”
She turned her face away, panting harshly. “Do you expect me to spread my thighs because you came after me?”
“You’d definitely come first, and then we’d come together, but you’re jumping way ahead of the conversation. How does it make you
feel?
Is your heart racing?” He eased away and covered the upper curve of her breast with his hand, the sensor ring a cool reminder of all she’d suffered. “That’s a pretty powerful heartbeat, and you seem more emotional than you’ve been since we met.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your body armor works in tandem with the neurostimulators. Doesn’t it? One without the other isn’t nearly as effective.”
“You had to paw me to figure that out?”
“I’m not pawing you. Now this —” He cupped her breast, stroking her nipple with his thumb. “— is pawing you.”
She shoved him backward and hurried to the lockers, shaking the water off her body as she went. After drying off with a towel, she jerked on a uniform. He stepped away from the showerheads, squeezing the excess water out of his hair. A towel flew in his direction, followed in quick succession by a uniform top and bottom. He managed to snatch them out of the air before any of the items landed on the wet floor.
Could he elicit anything other than anger from her? He considered the possibilities as he pulled on the simple pants. How far should he push her emotional responses? As much as he’d enjoyed having her in his arms, she was ultimately his responsibility.
“Our suits need to be decontaminated. Open the large door next to the lockers.” Pausing with one hand on the locker door, she looked longingly at her body armor. He understood the look. The damn suit made her feel safe, protected — lobotomized! How could he blame her for liking the cage when she’d never known life without one? “I want to do this quickly so I don’t scatter the dust all over the room.”
She moved beyond the lockers and opened the door to the decontamination unit. He picked up both suits, amazed at the weight of her body armor. No wonder she was toned if she wore this thing on a regular basis. He stuffed both in the unit and activated the longest cycle.
“Do you have dust on your arms now?”
“That’s why I didn’t put on my shirt. We probably should have done the suits before we showered, but I’d already taken time to seal your wound. I didn’t want to risk another delay.” Crossing to one of the sinks, he scrubbed his arms and chest. “How’s your head? There were a variety of pain relievers in the Medkit.” When she didn’t respond, he glanced over his shoulder. Curse the ghosts of the Night Moon, she was gawking again.
“My implants accelerate healing.” Her voice sounded suspiciously hoarse.
Turning back to the sink, he continued scrubbing his torso with more thoroughness than necessary. What did she feel when she looked at him? Lust or simple curiosity? Did the implants make her incapable of feeling desire? He’d seen more than curiosity smoldering in her gaze as she stared at his naked body. Without turning around, he asked, “Are you a virgin?”
She gasped. “That is irrelevant.”
“Well, the way you keep staring at me makes me wonder if you’ve ever seen a naked man before.”
“You did your share of staring, too. Are
you
a virgin?”
He pulled on the uniform top as he turned around. “Why do you presume I’m not? There are significantly more men on Ontariese than women. Some men die without ever knowing the tender touch of a real woman.”
“What?” She folded her hands into tight fists and narrowed her eyes. “Is that why I was captured? I am a soldier, not a breeder!”
“You weren’t captured, Saebin. You were rescued.” Lyrik met her gaze through the red glow, his expression calm, yet compelling. “No woman is taken against her will on Ontariese. If anything, women have the power. You get to choose whom you sleep with and how long the social alliance will last. You would be —”
Unwilling to dignify his nonsense with her attention, Saebin walked into the shelter’s main room. She was his objective. He would do whatever it took to … to what? She didn’t understand his motivation. Why had he saved her life? He could be a genuinely compassionate person, or he could be his father’s charming puppet. How was she supposed to figure out which? She had to concentrate on facts.
It was foolish to attack an ally.
It was lethal to trust an enemy.
With a frustrated growl, she glared at the archway. What was taking him so long?
The storm shelter wasn’t designed for comfort. A row of narrow bunks lined one wall, while an extended, L-shaped bench hugged the opposite corner. Compartments of some sort were recessed in the wall beside the bench. Smooth counters, a large sink, and an elaborate faucet identified the food preparation area.
He strode into the room a few minutes later, fully dressed at last. “What’s the last thing you remember before they brought you out of stasis?”
She hesitated.
He shook his head. “We’re stuck here until morning, maybe longer. We have to find something to do.”
There was no denying the storm had been real. It had nearly ripped off her head. “I have fragmented images of a battle and a fire. The last thing I remember clearly is participating in a demonstration. My handler was pleased, so I was rewarded.”
“How were you rewarded?”
His long-legged stride brought him within an arm’s length of her in the blink of an eye. Why did his smile send her pulse racing and his gaze make her nipples tingle? She had never reacted to anyone as she was reacting to this man.
“May I know your distinction?” Was that her breathless voice? She wasn’t playing her part very well. He needed to believe D-159 was in control.
“There are no distinctions on Ontariese, only names. My
name
is Lyrik.”
He was so big. His hands could easily snap her neck. Even with the augmented strength of her body armor, she had struggled to subdue him. He moved even closer, his gaze caressing her face. Her cheeks heated, and she raised her fingers to her skin.
“Say my name.”
“Sir.”
A smile curved his lips, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Without her armor she couldn’t regulate her responses. This was dangerous. She focused on his mouth. He’d brushed his lips over hers and pressed her against his chest.
“Am I going about this backwards?” He curved the fingers of one hand around the back of her neck and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Say my name, and I’ll kiss you again.”
“Lyrik.” The word was out before she could stop herself. His lips settled over hers, firm, yet surprisingly gentle. She eased her hands under his uniform top, needing the warmth of his skin. Following his lead, she parted her lips and nibbled.
“Say your name, or I’ll stop.” He whispered the words against her lips.
She stiffened. Didn’t he realize what he asked of her? She’d been beaten and starved, locked in a cold, dark room until she accepted her distinction. “I can’t.”
He framed her face between his palms, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “I will never hurt you.” Compassion warmed his gaze, and her defenses slipped a little more. “Do you want me to kiss you again?”
She nodded, her throat too tight to reply. His mouth covered hers, and she wrapped both arms around his back, pressing her body against his. He moved his lips over and against hers. His tongue traced her lower lip, and she murmured. What was he doing? Tasting her? He delved inside, and she shuddered, letting out a surprised little cry.
He ended the kiss with a soft chuckle. “You’ll never convince me you’re not a virgin now.”
Virginity could be relative. Nothing she’d experienced so far involved having another person’s tongue in her mouth! “Does everyone on this planet kiss — like that?”
“Afraid so.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You didn’t like it?”
“That is irrelevant.” She stepped back and took a deep breath. “I never should have encouraged you to touch me.”
“Why not?”
She scowled. He was trying to confuse her again.
“We were both enjoying ourselves until I rushed you,” he went on when she didn’t reply. “Shall we try again now that you know what to expect?”
Neatly sidestepping his halfhearted advance, she tucked her hair behind her ears and turned the conversation onto a more productive course. “Why are there more men than women on your planet?”
Tension hardened his features, making her regret the question. “There was a war between the two controlling powers about a hundred cycles ago. The Reformation Sect unleashed a bio-weapon designed to wipe out our females. Unfortunately the weapon was more effective than they realized, and many of their women died as well.”
“That is irrational.” Even against the horrors she had suffered, what he described was hard to comprehend. “How would wiping out your females further their … I don’t understand.”
Raking his fingers through his damp hair, he heaved an audible sigh. “It’s a long, involved story. Maybe it’s better if you get a grasp on the current situation before we get into history.”
He was probably right. “How long was I in stasis? I have no recollection of the journey here from Earth. You claim we traveled a great distance.”
“That’s complicated, too. Using conventional transportation, it would take several lifespans to travel from Earth to Ontariese.”
“Then how did I get here?”
“Through an interdimensional portal.” He moved toward the cabinets inset in the far wall. “This could be a lengthy conversation. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
He was stalling, and he hadn’t answered her original question. “A beverage would be acceptable, but I will not allow your evasions indefinitely.”
“Hey. Who’s the handler here? I thought I was giving the orders.” He flashed a lopsided grin, then crossed to the cupboards.
She activated her optical scanner as he scooped powder out of a canister and filled two mugs with steaming water. A light blinked behind her eyes when the scanner initialized. She didn’t want him to realize what she was doing. She could monitor his respiration, pulse, and body temperature as he spoke. It wasn’t an infallible way of gauging truthfulness, but it was the best she could do without her armor.
“Instant blish is better than nothing. Remind me to brew some fresh when we return.” He handed her one of the mugs and took a sip from the other.
She paused to inhale the fragrant steam before trying the beverage. It rolled across her tongue, the taste tangy, yet sweet. “It’s pleasant, but bliss is an exaggeration.”
He smiled. “Blish. Some argue that the name has been corrupted over time. Still, the name of the drink is blish.” He motioned her toward the bench and pushed a button on the wall. A narrow table slid out, providing a place to set their cups.
“What is an interdimensional portal?” she prompted him.
“Were you able to turn others off before you received your implants?”
“You keep answering my questions with questions. What does my ability have to do with these portals?” She analyzed the input from her scanners as she waited for his response. He appeared to be humanoid, but scans could be deceiving.
“We call people with unusual abilities Mystics. If their abilities are powerful enough, they are invited to the Conservatory to be trained. Only the strongest Mystics can Summon the Storm, and it is this ability that creates an interdimensional portal.”
Throughout his explanation, her readings remained consistent. Either he believed what he was saying to be true or … “Are you a cyborg?”
He laughed. “What makes you ask?”
“You resist my mental control techniques, and the effectiveness of my weapons is greatly reduced. The pulse I sent into your hand would have dropped most men to their knees.”
“Well, it’s nice to know you went easy on me. Wait a minute.” He set down his cup and folded his forearms on the tabletop. “You said mental control
techniques
. Turning people off isn’t your only trick?”
She was still reluctant to reveal specific information about her abilities. Her training perpetuated mistrust. “Tell me more about these Mystics.”
“You met their leader,” he said casually.
A memory stirred, a presence within her mind, powerful, agile —
ancient
. “Vee.”
“What do you remember?”
Faces contorted with pain. Screaming. Terror and awe blasted her with equal intensity. She rubbed her temples as her head began to pound. Even the memory drained her strength and made her tremble.
“Did I kill him?” she whispered, dreading the answer.