Silver Bound (7 page)

Guy leaped toward the narrow slit of light.

***

Jewel’s stomach ached. Food wouldn’t help, and though a fresh tray of fruits, cheeses and pastries had arrived in the levitating dumbwaiter, she couldn’t eat more than a few bites. On the pristine antique couch, she sat with her hands in her lap and stared out the view portal at the station receding in the distance. Her life uncurled before her as her occluded past disappeared into the scattered wake trailing the ship.

Over the past hour, she’d reasoned with herself and come to a few conclusions. She had a history, and since Guy knew that history and it seemed important to him, then it was important to her. She’d apparently known Guy all her life. She trusted him. She didn’t trust the man who’d been her husband. She hadn’t felt anything for the man they’d said was her father.

She allowed herself to trust her instincts, a well of reserves she hadn’t tapped into in the hours after her awakening. After the tiny explosion in her head and Guy’s explanation, those reserves had opened to her, and she clung for all she was worth.

Her hand gleamed silver in the soft light of the one lamp she’d left on. Rolling and unrolling her fingers, she saw her exact worth in the palm of her silver hand. She belonged to Guy. Details of him, his history and their previous conversations had disappeared and been replaced with the band around her neck. She lifted hesitant fingers to touch it, so light she could forget it circled her in quiet promise.

Alone in this room, able to think on her own, feel on her own, she remembered him, at least in a way. Without a single memory of him before today, she believed in his decency without doubt. As she understood her programming, she responded to his sexual needs and would always be compelled to give him comfort in any way, but she was not compelled to understand him, all the way down to the crinkles at the corner of his eyes that appeared before he smiled.

She could not be forced to love him.

And she did.

Some part of her unassociated with memories…remembered him.

The sureness and rightness of that love stole over her, not in a wave of excitement or sexual desire, but in a warm comfort. In addition to all she’d uncovered of her past—the name of her son, a growing need to see her child, and the short explanations from Guy—she discovered a life raft.

She didn’t hesitate to grasp her conclusions.

Guy’d been a kernel in her heart who’d carried her through darkness in her past. Her slate was clean, and she wanted to bring out her love and let it shine, like silver twinkling in the sun.

She left the couch and crossed to a gilded full-length mirror near the head of the bed. The mirror boasted carved detail work of floral patterns from the rounded top to the feet clamped to the floor in case of turbulence.

Unable to look into the reflective surface, she stared at the floor for long moments until she forced her gaze from her slippered feet.

There she was. This person she didn’t recognize named Jewel stood in the dim light with her limp hands at her side. Pale skin, blue eyes, silver lips and blond hair hanging in soft waves to barely past her shoulders reflected back at her.

She removed her silky wrap to puddle at her feet. Shaking, with need continually pitching in her middle, she removed the protective undergarments.

Nude, she memorized the body re-created for her love’s pleasure. Would the tint in her lips look sexy with lipstick? Would Guy like that? Her brows slanted back at her reflection, and she shook her head. Guy liked her natural, unadorned.

No, not quite.

He liked her hair up and her cleavage held tight and high in a ball gown. A wistful vision winked through her of twirling around a dance hall, Guy’s sneaking a peek down her dress and smiling, simple joy, as they laughed together.

Her nipples puckered, giving them a darker cast like pewter against the rosy blush rising on her chest. She bent toward her wrap but stopped, stood straight and propelled her inspection onward. Her mound was bare, hair permanently removed during her preparation, and the outer lips of her folds glinted with the nanobots buried into her flesh. Despite her current privacy, she blushed hotter and couldn’t make herself spread her legs to get a closer look at the rest of the silver-tipping.

Guy had enjoyed the imprinting. The way he’d touched her bore proof of his excitement to take her. Did he like the way she looked now?

Staring at her pubic area, silver, as if branded by him, she grew warm. Her breath hitched, and she licked her dry lips. Even without his presence and the hum of the collar, the kisses Guy’d given her during the claiming stirred her anew. She cupped her mound and gasped. Desire for Guy made her hot between her legs. She didn’t know when he’d return, but she craved his touch, his hardness, his kindness.

Shaking, she shrugged on her wrap. Before she’d secured the ties, the door to the suite slid open. Guy staggered into the room holding a case and with a wince collapsed into the nearest chair.

She stumbled forward. The door shut and the light above it turned red.

His beloved face, tired and haggard, lifted toward her. His gaze swept over her, head to foot, before she knelt in front of him. He breathed heavily, in short gasps as if he’d run a great distance, and wrapped his arms around his ribcage before he spoke.

“We have a problem.”

Jewel swallowed hard. “Are you hurt?”

“Nothing a quick stop in the med-booth didn’t fix. But I guess I’m still a little rough around the edges. Should’ve stayed a little longer but wanted to get back to you.”

She needed to touch him, but where was he hurt? She didn’t want to inflame a bruise or worsen an injury.

Slouched back in the chair in his usual elegant sprawl, he no longer seemed to be in pain. She swept a frantic visual search over his body, head to foot, but didn’t see any wounds. Only his face, so hard and angry, appeared different. She’d never seen such a ruthlessness on him before. But he’d been hurt enough for a med-booth. What had they done? Who had done it?

His hand dangled with his long, strong fingers unblemished. She leaned over the arm of the chair and gripped that connection to him. His rough calluses brushed against her and sent electric ripples down her arms. With the swirling in her mind, the unanswered questions, she could only manage, “Med-booth?”

“I’m fine. Really. I had a disagreement with Kalon. Seems he followed us aboard. He and his thugs pulled me aside and thought they could have a little three-on-one, but I got the jump on the guard at the door and ran for it. I gave them the slip and here I am.”

He didn’t seem himself at all. His jaw set, he stared over her head with a narrow, angry slant to his brows.

“But they hurt you.” The room canted to a dangerous angle.

Guy’s face softened, and he removed the hand she held to run it through her hair. He was the one who’d been beat up by three men. His lips curved slightly and he cupped her cheek. The warmth radiated from her face down her neck and across her chest. She put her hand over his to hold it there and rubbed against him.

“It wasn’t a picnic, but I’ve had worse. It doesn’t matter. I don’t even have a bruise, and no more cracked ribs. The soreness is almost gone.”

She jolted away from Guy’s tender caress but kept hold of his hand. Icy tendrils played along her spine, then heat pooled in a burn across her limbs. The quickly turning onslaught left her reeling. All the crazy events running helter-skelter left her dizzy and faintly nauseated. She fairly screeched, “Cracked ribs?”

“Let go of my hand, sweetheart, before I have to go back and get broken fingers mended.”

She fell to her knees between his outstretched legs. Her fingers throbbed.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I like that you care.” He didn’t move but stayed frozen in place, staring at her with his tempting lips turned down at the corners.

Awareness prickled over her and edged out the confusion. Her desire and love for him started softly, flickering along her fingertips as she longed to stroke his stubbled face. Her nipples tightened and a warm tingle between her legs caused her to shift. She recognized the difference between her own arousal and the desire which came from her programming. Before she could process that development in her new life, her collar hummed and sent a current of lava through her, blazing hot and undeniable, to settle in her stomach and flow out to ruck her nipples. She gasped with the near pain. She wiggled, trying to relieve the rising need between her legs. Her lips seared hot and aching.

“Oh.” She trembled. Before her senses settled, she blurted out, “I want you.”

Her forwardness surprised her, but she wouldn’t take it back.

Guy swore, long and colorfully. He sat up and stole the warmth of his surrounding legs. The crinkle at the corner of his eyes disappeared to be replaced by a slight downturn of his enticing, full lips. “That’s my damned libido talking.”

She froze in place. She had to make him understand that no matter how they came to be together on this ship, or how she came to have the collar, she did want him. Right now. She was sure she’d always wanted him.

“No, I…” she started.

He held up a hand to quiet her plea. “You can’t control it. It’s the programming responding to me. Hell, I want you every second of the day, but I’m weak. Horny. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, but I promise I won’t touch you again. I won’t shame you that way.”

She stroked his thigh. A compulsion to soothe his feelings vibrated along her nerve endings and prompted her to touch, assure. She was only too happy to comply with the simulated order coming from his wrist band to the slave circlet about her neck. She had to give him release, emotionally and sexually. Now. Her hands trembled.

In abrupt, clumsy movements, Guy stumbled from the chair and crossed the room to the refreshment cabinet. His broad shoulders hunched slightly as he filled a glass with ice. The chink of the cubes clanking together broke through the sound of her harsh breathing. He kept his back to her while he sloshed two dashes of liquor into the glass.

“We need to stay in the room until we reach our destination. I don’t know what Kalon would do if he got his hands on you. And I’m at a disadvantage against three of them. There’s no way they can follow us from the ship, and we’ll lose them then. Nothing to concern yourself with. Except…” His shoulders shrugged before he continued in a tight voice. “We’ll be here in close quarters ’til then. I promise I won’t take advantage of your position.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me.” His avowal broke her mind free of the quagmire it’d been trapped in since he walked in the door. “You’d never take advantage of anyone.”

“I wouldn’t? After a few hours, you think you know me?” The question echoed harshly in the room. Jaw set, he faced her. He lifted his glass, wrapped in his long fingers, and pointed at her with one finger uncurled from around his drink. “I’d double-cross the devil to keep you safe. I’d take advantage of anyone who crossed my path.”

His accent thickened in a way that almost caught a memory before it faded in the onslaught of his declaration. Guy dropped his hand and strode toward her in determined strides. She didn’t even blink and gripped the chair back when her legs weakened.

“I’d cheat, lie and steal. No question about it,” he growled. “And if you were you, free and clear, no collar on your neck, no ring on your finger, I’d hoodwink you into bed and ride ’til morning.”

“Oh,” she breathed. Fire spread in her veins and the ache in her core pulsed in surging waves. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t make her legs respond while her entire body shook.

He stopped inches away. Dark brown eyes glinted at her before a feathery touch skimmed across her lips. Her breathing synched to his, a rough cacophony that heated the space between their bodies. The moment stretched as he caressed her lower lip with the softest of touches. She leaned toward him, desperate for firm contact, but he didn’t press forward.

Guy whispered, as if speaking aloud would break into the space between them. “But you made a choice, didn’t you sweetheart? You didn’t choose me five years ago, and I respect that decision. We’ll find a way to set you free of this mess.”

“I didn’t choose you?” Her voice sounded raspy, laden with desire. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“You’ll remember, soon enough.” He took a step back.

She clutched at her stomach when the heat radiating from his body went with him. He watched her movement, and his brows lowered. With a groan, he turned from her and moved to the couch. He threw himself down and ran his hands through his hair, a gesture that tugged at her already pitching stomach.

“I’m hurting you. I don’t mean to put you through this. I’ll control myself so that damn collar won’t activate.”

As soon as he said it, the humming at her neck gained her attention again. With the tornado twisting through her, she hadn’t noticed. “It’s not just the collar. I do want you.”

“No. You don’t.” Adamant, he shook his head.

She took a deep breath, ready to beg. Not a moment longer could she stand to be so far away from him. The ache was constant now. She needed to fulfill and please him because she couldn’t spend another few hours as she’d done today, empty without him.

He blew out a long sigh and gestured toward the door. “Could you bring that case over here? It’s a holo-castle set. I thought we could play a game or two. I’ve never had one romantic thought while immersed in a match. Should keep me in line.”

Helpless not to do what he asked immediately, she obeyed, but she stumbled on weak legs.

Get a grip on yourself. He doesn’t want a sniveling coward. Show him a woman he’ll want. I can do it. I have to.

The sleek black box sat next to the door. “I don’t know how to play.”

He startled and sloshed his drink on his knee. The odor of whisky teased her senses. His mouth would taste of the smoky liquor. She licked her lips.

Beneath the dark stubble and the grim set of his starkly beautiful features, he paled. “We used to play together.”

“We did?”

He cleared his throat and looked at the table between them. “If you don’t pick it up after you see it, I’ll teach you. It’ll give us something to do.”

She imagined all sorts of things they could do, all of which involved his lips and the bed behind him. He didn’t want that, though. She sighed. “Was I any good?”

Head snapping back up, he smiled darkly and raised a brow. “You were exquisite. You beat me every time we played. The only person who could. I never figured out your strategies, either.”

He chuckled and the tightness in her chest eased. He beckoned her over and placed the case on the low table between the sofa and twin chairs. “I think the only reason your father let me in the door on visiting day was to see you thrash me and send me packing with my tail between my legs.”

“My father didn’t like you?”

“Sit down and—” he averted his gaze, “—fix the ties on your dress.”

She fumbled to adjust her gaping wrap, which exposed more than a fair share of cleavage. Blushing hotly, she sank into the sofa across from Guy. Though she exhibited this inconvenient modesty, she still yearned to run her hands all over him. Everywhere. She crossed her legs and faced him again.

“Better.” He passed a hand over his face again and shook his head. “Just sit still for a minute. Don’t move.”

Guy dropped his head against the back of the chair, one hand turning his bracelet before he flicked his fingers away as if annoyed with himself. Long moments of silence accompanied his slow fall into relaxation. The tight lines of his jaw softened, his fingers relaxed and his shoulders eased their rigidity. His dark hair, black in this light, curled at the edges and fell softly over his thick brows. A shadow covered his lower face. He needed a scraping, but what would it feel like to rub against the incoming whiskers? Would it leave a rash on her cheeks, on her chest, between her thighs? She shifted in her seat and drank in the sight of his lean, relaxed body, barely concealed in the revealing, clinging pantsuit that draped softly against his muscular physique.

“Right. Remember to update the software in the cattle-branding iron,” he murmured.

She hiccupped a slight laugh.

Her collar stopped sending pulses of erotic command. Empty without the onrush, she sagged into the couch and braced against the cold sinking into her chest, no longer prickling with passionate blushes. Lethargy crept over her. She was exhausted. Though the collar no longer compelled, the burn in her core pulsed, deep and hard, a painful reminder she’d failed her duty.

Guy lifted his head but didn’t face her as he set up the game with efficient movements.

“This is the lower board. The pieces align on the black squares. King. Queen. Knight. Castle. When they’re all set up, push this button here, and the four other levels are displayed in hologram. Run your fingers through it,” he prompted before he did so himself.

Causing ripples in the nearly solid visual, his fingers cut through the image of three-dimensional checkered boards and corresponding pieces. “Gives a little zap like static electricity.”

She mimicked his move, and the hairs on her arms stood up with sensation. She snatched her hand back.

“I think you’ll still have the instincts to play, so I’ll run through the basics.” He instructed her with patience in a detached manner. “The king can move one space a turn. The queen does as she pleases. There are only one king and queen. The other pieces are duplicated on the other levels. Since knights and bishops can jump between castle floors, every move on one board impacts every level, so you have to view the entire war in one swoop.”

Like Guy promised, she picked up the game quickly. Once she’d seen the board and hologram, the rules and strategies came to her naturally. Holo-castle required focus. Her worries fell away as she stepped through her turns using short instructions or manual moves on the lower board.

With gestures and incomplete sentences, they played an intricate game of maneuvers. She recognized the scene as if she’d played it thousands of times. An ease streamed between them, sure and strong, like a long acquaintance.

The holo flickered again, the not-quite solid presence blinked in and out as it had periodically through the game. She decided her last move and slid her queen to his king.

“Checkmate.” Unbidden, her joyous laugh cut through the quiet she’d enjoyed. The break in concentration brought her surroundings back into focus. A heavenly aroma filled the suite.

“Dinner’s here?” she asked. “How long have we played?”

Guy scowled at the board before hitting the Off button and slanting his head toward the comp station on the other side of the room. “Four hours.”

“You must be starving.” She leaped off the couch toward the dumbwaiter beside the beverage cabinet. She flipped up the sliding door and pulled out the covered tray. Careful to keep the tray level, she brought it to the table as Guy closed the game and cleared the table.

“Good,” he drawled. “More blue-and-green puffs.”

“What are they?” She smiled. His grin returned with the crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

“I have no idea.” He laughed and picked one up, offering it to her.

She took it into her mouth, and the sweetness made her mouth water. Her lips brushed his fingers, and just like that, the collar hummed and came to life. Need blazed through her sensitive flesh, and she licked her tingling lips.