The Captive (16 page)

What to do? What to do? Panic engulfed her and she began to
run, hoping she could find a place to hide. A growl sounded behind her, adding
wings to her feet, and she flew through the underbrush, oblivious to the spiky
fronds that scratched her arms and legs and caught at her hair. Why had she
left the safety of the ship?

She ran blindly, afraid to stop, afraid to look back for
fear she would find the cat at her heels.

She screamed when she slammed into something hard and
unyielding.

“Ashlynne! What the hell!”

“Falkon! Thank God.”

He was about to ask her what she was doing running naked
through the jungle when the big cat leapt into view. Thrusting Ashlynne behind
him, Falkon yanked the gun from his waistband and fired.

The blast struck the cat full in the chest, killing it
instantly.

Falkon turned to Ashlynne. Her eyes looked huge in her pale
face. “You damn fool. What were you thinking, to come out here alone?”

She stared up at him, too frightened to speak.

He shook his head. She was shivering badly. Nerves, he
thought.

“Don’t do that again,” he said quietly. He wiped a streak of
blood from her cheek with his thumb.

“I…” She shook her head. “If…if you hadn’t followed me…” A
huge tear rolled down her cheek and he brushed it away.

“Try not to think about it.” He glanced at the cat. If he’d
arrived a few minutes later, he would have been too late. The thought of her
being attacked, ripped to shreds by those long black claws, twisted his gut in
knots. She could have been killed, and it would have been his fault.

With a sigh, he shoved the gun into his pocket, then drew
her into his arms and held her close. “It’s all right now,” he said. Her skin
was soft and warm, so warm. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her back to
where she’d left her clothing.

Ashlynne buried her face in his shoulder, embarrassed by her
nudity, by the fact that she had behaved so stupidly. If Falkon hadn’t come
after her, she would be lying dead back there, torn to pieces by a wild animal.

“Don’t think about it.” His breath was warm against her
cheek. She was aware of his hands on her body, rough callused hands that held
her gently.

When they reached the river, he put her down. When she would
have turned away, he caught her by the arm, his gaze moving over her.

Only then was she aware of the numerous cuts and scratches
she had sustained in her wild flight. Fright had numbed the pain. Falkon’s
shirt front was stained with her blood.

He jerked his chin toward the river. “Go and rinse the blood
off.”

She wasn’t anxious to go back into the river, but it offered
her a way to cover her nudity and she waded into the river, her gaze darting up
and down the bank. If there was one cat, there might be another. She sighed as
the water closed over her. It felt wonderful, its warmth soothing, easing her
pain.

She might have stayed in there the rest of the day if Falkon
hadn’t called for her to come out.

Knowing it was useless to refuse, she waded out of the
water. Heat scorched her cheeks as he removed his shirt and began using it as a
towel to dry her off.

“I can do it,” she said.

With a nod, he thrust his shirt into her hands and turned
his back, knowing that her image had been forever burned in his brain, from her
full pink-tipped breasts to her long slender legs. Burned was the perfect word,
he mused, because he was on fire for her. He stared at the water, lapping
gently against the shore. Stripping off his boots and breeches, he plunged in,
hoping a cold swim would cool him off.

But even that was denied him. The water was warm and yet it
soothed him, easing the last bit of fear he had experienced when he saw the cat
chasing her, taking the edge off the ache in his loins.

He swam for several minutes, then floated in the middle of
the river, regarding Ashlynne through half-closed eyes.

She hadn’t wasted any time getting dressed, and now she sat
on the riverbank, scrubbing the blood from his shirt. She spread it out on a
rock to dry, then ran her fingers through her hair. She looked like an angel
sitting there, he thought, her skirts spread around her, the sun shining in her
hair.

She looked up as he swam toward the shore. A flush rose in
her cheeks as he stood up, and then, at the last minute, she turned her back to
him.

He was grinning when he stepped out of the water. He pulled
on his breeches and boots, then slung his damp shirt over one shoulder.

Ashlynne refused to meet his gaze on the walk back to the
ship, and he wondered what bothered her more, the close call she’d had with the
cat, the fact that he had seen her naked, or regret because she hadn’t had the
nerve to satisfy her curiosity.

There was an air of tension between them that hadn’t been
there before. Something had passed between them at the river, something for
which she had no name, but Ashlynne felt it keenly as she sat in the co-pilot’s
seat staring out into the night.

Falkon sat in the pilot’s seat, muttering under his breath
as he studied a star chart of the galaxy. She was surprised that he didn’t have
it memorized by now.

Upon returning from the river, she had gone to her cabin to
take a nap. Sleep, however, had been elusive, and she had lain there, wrapped
up in a blanket, trying not to think about Falkon, about the gentleness of his
touch as he had wiped the blood from her cheek, the way he had looked emerging
from the river, rivulets of water dripping from his bronzed skin, his muscles
rippling with every movement. She had been sorely tempted to see all of him but
at the last minute, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she had turned away.

Dinner had been a quiet affair. She had found herself
looking at him surreptitiously time and again. His long black hair fell to his
shoulders, giving him a roguish look that was accented by the faint white scar
on his cheek.

Looking at him now, she wondered what he was thinking as he
studied the chart on the screen.

He turned his head then, his gaze meeting hers. She looked
into his eyes, blue-gray eyes that seemed to hold all the secrets of the
universe, that promised answers to every question she’d ever had if she would
only trust him.

Time ceased to exist as he leaned slowly toward her, until
they were little more than a breath apart. He didn’t speak, only continued to
look at her, and now there was a question in his eyes, a question she answered
by closing the distance between them.

His lips were warm and firm, his kiss feather light, barely
more than a touch. A shivery feeling slid down her spine. She scooted over, her
eyes closing as his lips sought hers again.

There was no hesitation in his kiss. He knew what he wanted,
and he took it. His lips played over hers, flooding her with warmth. His hands
slid around her waist and then he was lifting her out of her chair, settling
her in his lap, her thighs straddling his. Startled, her eyelids flew open.

“Relax, princess,” he murmured.

His voice moved over her like black velvet, warm and soft,
making her think of long dark nights, of bodies entwined on silken sheets. She
felt his breath on her face. Excitement bubbled up inside her as his hand
cupped the back of her head and his mouth slanted over hers once again while his
other hand traced ever-widening circles over her back.

She should have pushed him away, but her curiosity was far
stronger than her sense of propriety. Growing up in the
jinan
,
surrounded by high walls and protective parents, she’d had little interaction with
men, little chance to experiment, to flirt and be flirted with.

And so she closed her eyes and let Falkon kiss her again. It
was, after all, just a kiss, she thought. Surely there could be no harm in it.

But this kiss was different from the last. His lips moved
with tantalizing slowness over hers, evoking sweet sensations deep within her.
His tongue slid over the seam of her lips. She gasped as his hand slid over her
buttocks, drawing her hips closer to his.

She put her hands against his chest, thinking to push him
away, then slid her arms around his neck, holding him tighter as he deepened
the kiss still more. Her heart was pounding now; her breathing was erratic. A
moan rose in her throat. When he slid his tongue across her lips again, she
welcomed him inside.

She had never known passion before, never dreamed it had
such power. She was on fire, burning, flaming, and all from a kiss.

She clung to him, wanting to be closer, her hands restless
as they moved up and down his back and over his shoulders, sliding down his
arms to measure the muscles quivering there. A quick image of Falkon emerging
from the river flashed through her mind, his body gleaming wetly in the
sunlight.

Falkon drew Ashlynne closer. Just one more kiss, he told
himself, and then he would let her go. But one kiss became two, and then three.
She was fire and honey in his arms, warm and sweet, so damn sweet. Her skin was
soft and smooth beneath his hands. She moaned softly as his thumb inadvertently
stroked the curve of her breast. It had been months since he had lain with a
woman, tasted one, caressed one. Need and desire swelled within him, urging him
to take what she was offering. Except she didn’t really know what she was
offering. She was pure and untouched, a virgin in every sense of the word, and
he had no right to defile her, no right to take that which rightfully belonged
to her future husband.

He had done a lot of things in his life that he wasn’t proud
of, but he had never deflowered a virgin, especially one who was betrothed to
another man.

Letting her go was the most difficult thing he had ever
done.

She blinked at him, her lips slightly swollen, her beautiful
green eyes cloudy with passion. Stifling a curse, he placed her on her feet and
then stood up.

“You’re engaged,” he said with a tight smile. “One of us
needs to remember that. Your fiancé might not be willing to pay for damaged
goods.”

His words had the desired effect. Anger chased the passion
from her eyes. A rush of color flooded her cheeks. With a wordless cry, she
slapped him across the face, then ran out of the cockpit. A moment later, he
heard the door to her cabin slam shut.

He grinned as he rubbed his cheek. For a little thing, she
packed a hell of a wallop.

She slept late after a long and restless night. Waking or
sleeping, her thoughts had been of Falkon. Always Falkon. He was like a fever
in her blood, an addiction for which there was no cure. One minute she was sure
she hated him, the next she wanted to be in his arms, wanted to feel his mouth
on hers, taste the forbidden pleasures promised by his knowing smile and
roguish grin.

Rising, she dressed quickly, determined to pretend nothing
had happened between them the evening before.

She was on her way to the galley for breakfast when she happened
to look out the port. Frowning, she realized they were in space.

Changing direction, she went into the cockpit. “Where are we
going?”

He looked at her as if she wasn’t very bright. “Trellis.”

“How long will it take to get there?”

“We’ll be there late tomorrow night.” He was taking her to
her fiancé. Being with her, holding her, was far too seductive, far too
dangerous for his peace of mind. Last night, he had been tempted to forget
about Drade, to forget about avenging the deaths of his wife and daughter. Last
night, he had wanted nothing more than to take Ashlynne away somewhere and
spend the rest of his days loving her.

He fingered the collar at his throat, felt his anger stir to
life once again, and with it his need for vengeance. Drade would pay for every
day he had toiled in the mine, for every night he had spent locked in a cold,
damp cell, for every minute he had spent in solitary, for every humiliation he
had endured, every stroke of the lash.

Ashlynne felt a sudden chill as she looked at Falkon. His
eyes were cold, a muscle throbbed in his cheek. She wondered what he was
thinking, sincerely hoping that she was not the cause of the anger seething
inside him.

She spent the day moving between her cabin and the galley.
She stayed out of the cockpit, except to take Falkon his meals, which he
acknowledged with a curt nod. She hadn’t intended to wait on him. Why should
she? He could get his own food if he was hungry. But it was a good excuse to go
to the cockpit. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, why he was so angry, but
she lacked the nerve to break the brittle silence between them.

In her cabin later that night, she tried to recall Niklaus’s
face, but it was Falkon’s image that sprang readily to mind, the memory of
Falkon’s kiss that followed her to sleep.

When she rose in the morning, he was sitting as she had left
him the night before. Dark bristles shadowed the line of his jaw.

With a sigh, she went into the galley and fixed two cups of
coffee, one black, for him, one with cream, heavy on the sugar, for herself.
She carried them into the cockpit and sat down.

“Here.” She handed him one of the cups.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“So am I. What are you going to do after you drop me off?”

“I have an old score to settle.”

“What do you mean?”

He rubbed his hand over the collar at his throat. “Do you
know how to get this damn thing off?”

She shook her head. “Maybe there’s a release on the
controller. Did you look?”

“Yeah.” He had looked, very carefully, afraid he might
accidentally trigger the damn thing. He wondered what kind of man had invented
such a barbaric contraption.

“How much ransom are you going to demand for me?”

Falkon shook his head. “I’m not.”

“Oh? What changed your mind?”

“I decided it would be too risky. I’d have to arrange a
meeting, and I’m sure your fiancé would inform the authorities.” He shook his
head. “I’ll drop you off near his residence, and then you’re on your own.”

She nodded. She had never been on her own before. There had
always been someone nearby she could call on, someone to watch over her, take
care of her.

The hours passed slowly. She dozed in her chair, woke, and
dozed again, her dreams fragmented, confusing, filled with fuzzy images of her
parents and Magny. And Falkon. Always he was there, a dark presence lurking in
the background, both fearsome and reassuring.

It was after midnight when they reached their destination.
Falkon landed the ship at a free port near the south end of the city.

Ashlynne looked out the window. Lights burned in a building
off to the left. Three men were working on a Romarian league cruiser in a
nearby hangar.

She looked at Falkon. With a pang, she realized that he
would soon be gone from her life and she would never see him again.

He turned, his gaze meeting hers. “Well, princess, we’re
here.”

She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. He
was her last link with her old life, with home.

“Ready?”

“It’s late. Maybe we should wait until morning.”

“I thought you were anxious to get here?”

“I was. I am. But…” She looked down at her dress. She didn’t
want to meet Niklaus looking like this, wearing a gown and sandals that were
dirty from traipsing through the jungle of an uncharted planet.

“Let’s go find lodging,” she said. “I need to clean up.”

“Lodging, princess?” Falkon shook his head. “I’m broke.”

“I’m not.”

He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“I have credits in an account.”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t think of it, ‘til now. It’s just a
small account, twenty thousand credits. My mother…my mother didn’t want me be
totally dependent on Niklaus. She said a girl should have a little something of
her own to fall back on, so she opened an account for me. I wasn’t to touch it
until after I was married.”

Falkon shook his head. Her parents had been rich indeed if
twenty thousand credits was considered a small amount. “You ready?”

She nodded.

“All right, this is what we’re gonna do.” He took the
controller out of his pocket, blew out a sigh of resignation, and handed it to
her. “We don’t have any papers. When we get to the check-in point, I want you
to tell them what happened on Tierde, tell them we stole the ship and escaped.
They’ll have heard about the attack by now. Have you got that stun gun with
you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He pulled the gun he had taken from the guard on
Enjine Base Nine out of his pocket. “Hang on to this, too. All right, activate
the manacles on my wrists, and let’s go.”

There were two guards clad in Romarian garb when they
reached the port of entry.

“I’ll need your documents,” the taller of the two men said,
holding out his hand.

“Documents?” Ashlynne said. She pressed a hand to her heart.
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid I don’t have any.”

“Who are you, and where are you coming from?”

“I’m the daughter of Lord Marcus of Myrafloures. My father
owned the mine on Tierde. We were attacked several days ago. My slave and I
were the only ones to escape. We managed to steal a ship and get away.”

“We heard of the attack,” the second guard said. “Damned
green-skinned, black-hearted Hodorians. They can’t be trusted.”

Ashlynne nodded. Tears pricked her eyes, and she let them
fall. “My parents were killed. I’m on my way to Arkata. My fiancé, Niklaus
Hassrick, lives there.”

The Hassrick name worked like magic. The guards stepped back
and opened the gate. “We’re sorry for your loss, my lady,” said the first.

“Thank you. Can you tell me where I might find lodging for
the night?”

“I can do better than that. I’ll have one of my men take you
there.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

The guard smiled at her. Picking up a communicator, he
summoned an amphibious surface transport craft and gave the driver directions.

Ashlynne smiled her thanks as the guard handed her into the
ASTC. “Come along, Number Four,” she said in her best lady of the manor voice.

Keeping his face carefully blank, Falkon took his place in
the rear seat of the four-seat vehicle.

“Have a pleasant stay,” the guard said.

“Thank you,” Ashlynne replied. “You’ve been very kind.”

“My pleasure, my lady,” he said.

“My pleasure, my lady,” Falkon muttered as the guard closed
the door. He stared at the manacles on his wrists, and wondered if putting
himself at her mercy had been such a good idea.

* * * * *

They found lodging in a glass-fronted, four-story building.
Falkon watched Ashlynne sign for the room, then followed her into the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, he held out his hands. “Turn me
loose.”

She hesitated a moment, making him wonder if he was going to
have to try to wrest the controller from her again when she pulled it from her
pocket and released his hands.

Their room was on the fourth floor. She slid the key card
into the slot and the door opened. A light came on as they stepped into the
room.

Falkon looked around. It was a large room, decorated in
subtle shades of blue and green. A tele-screen took up one wall. There were two
large reclining sofas, a desk built into one wall, a fireplace.

There was a large bedroom and bathroom, and a small kitchen
that offered snacks and drinks.

“Nice place,” he muttered.

Ashlynne nodded. “We need some new clothes.” She went to the
tele-screen and flipped through the channels until she found an all-night
shopping channel. She looked through their catalog, picked out several changes
of clothes, underwear and shoes, then turned to Falkon. “Pick out whatever you
want.”

He opted for a pair of black pants, a gray long-sleeved
turtleneck sweater that would hide the collar around his neck and the manacles
on his wrists, and a pair of calf-high black boots.

“Is that all you want?” Ashlynne asked.

Falkon nodded. “I’ll pay you back.”

“There’s no need.” She confirmed their order and ended the
transmission.

“Yes, there is.”

She blew out a sigh. There was no point in arguing with him.
“I’m hungry.” She picked up the phone and dialed the main desk. “Do you want
anything?”

“Sure. The thickest steak they’ve got and all the
trimmings.”

He went to look out the window while she ordered. The city
was brightly lit, a maze of streets lined with tall buildings, their mirrored
windows reflecting the light. A pair of monorails snaked overhead. Despite the late
hour, the streets were crowded. Like most big cities, the stores and
entertainment centers here were open twenty-four hours a day. Tomorrow he would
be free. The first order of business would be to find a way to get rid of the
shackles that branded him a prisoner, then he would need to find a transport
that would take him to Romariz. And Drade.

Drade. For the first time, be began to think he might
actually have a chance at the revenge he craved so desperately.

There was a knock at the door and when he opened it, an
android handed him several packages. Falkon signed for the delivery, then
carried the boxes into the bedroom and dropped them on the floor. One way or
another, he would pay her back.

A few minutes later, a bell rang in the kitchen, signaling the
arrival of their meal.

Ashlynne looked at Falkon expectantly, but he made no move
toward the kitchen. With a sigh of resignation, she went into the kitchen and
opened the servet door. Picking up the tray, she wondered why she had even
considered the possibility that he would wait on her. Months of slavery in the
bowels of the mine had not made a slave of him. She doubted if anything could.

She carried the tray into the living room and sat down.
Uncovering the tray, she placed the dishes on the table.

Sitting down beside her, Falkon hit the control on the arm
of the sofa, and the tele-screen came to life. He selected an all-news station,
and there was Drade, bigger than life. He looked imposing in his uniform, his
brown hair cropped short.

Falkon leaned forward, everything else forgotten, as he
listened to what his old enemy was saying.

“Following the unprovoked attack on Tierde, Romariz was
quick to offer support. Clean up has begun.” Drade smiled into the camera. “A
new shipment of prisoners from Daccar has been assembled, and the mine will be
fully functional again within the next week, assuring that there will be no
shortage of the black crystals.”

“Thank you, Commander. In other news…”

Falkon shook his head. Quick to offer support, indeed. He
wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Romariz had been behind the attack in the
first place. Troops from Romariz had probably been hovering nearby, waiting to
step in as soon as the Hodorian Army had completed its attack. Romariz would
assume control, not only of the mine, but of the star base, offering their
protection from further attack. Tierde was a small, peaceful planet with a
relatively small population. They would have no recourse but to accept. After
all, they had signed a peace treaty with Romariz; and once Romariz was in
power, there would be no way to get rid of them short of all-out war. Falkon
swore softly. To his knowledge, the only planets in the quadrant that were
still free of Romarian rule were Daccar, Polixe, and Cherlin Four.

“Falkon? Is something wrong with your dinner?”

“What?” He glanced at Ashlynne.

“Is something wrong? You’re not eating.”

“No, everything’s fine.” He put Drade out of his mind,
determined to enjoy the first good meal he’d had in months.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I have a score to settle.”

“You mentioned that once before, but you never told me with
who.”

“An old friend.”

She looked at him thoughtfully a moment. “I’m never going to
see you again, am I?”

“No.” He smiled at her. “That should make you happy,
princess.”

“Yes, it should.” But it didn’t. She thought of the time
they had spent together. He had saved her life, comforted her when she was sad,
dried her tears, treated her as an equal instead of a useless decoration, made
her feel, made her think, shown her that she had more courage than she had ever
imagined. Kissed her…