Authors: Susan Grant
Beela’s sculpted features eased into a winning smile that never reached her eyes. “Need I remind you that proton rifles are exceedingly messy?”
A profound look of pain tightened Rom’s features, chased by a flicker of indecision. His knuckles went white as he gripped the butt of his pistol. Then his expression blanked like a skilled poker player’s.
He kept his pistol aimed at Beela.
Beela’s weapon remained pointed at Jas’s head.
The air felt ready to shatter. Jas swallowed against a surge of nausea. She hoped Rom knew what he was doing.
Beela’s attention settled on Jas. Her cold, sharp eyes glinted like chipped diamonds. “You should not have run away.”
Rom squeezed her hand in warning. “She didn’t run. I took her.”
“The master must not find his bed empty,” Beela went on. “Return to your room.” For the first time, the woman sought her compliance through the medallion. Jas sensed her trying to influence her thoughts as Sharron had.
Jas lifted her chin and stared back. Beela’s photon rifle shook slightly, her gaze tracking down to Jas’s neck where the empty chain dangled. “Where is it?” she asked. Nostrils flaring, the woman snatched for the collar of Jas’s cloak. Rom’s forearm arced upward.
A loud crack echoed somewhere behind them. At the same time, greenish blue sparks ricocheted off the walls as Beela’s photon rifle discharged. The air was forcibly sucked from Jas’s lungs. She staggered backward, half-blinded. Arms came out of nowhere to catch her just as her knees buckled. Muffin! The stench of something like an overheating car radiator burned her nostrils.
Clutching her side, Beela wheeled on them. “The Family will bring the truth to your homes, to your children. We will bring war to you, B’kah, as you did to us. We
will
triumph, and the new day will dawn.” She lifted her rifle, but another burst of light silenced her, slamming her into the wall. Sagging to the floor, the woman regarded them with an expression of almost childlike surprise. Lacy smoke drifted up from her neck and shoulders, and Jas couldn’t help but feel a brief sadness for all those caught by Sharron’s power.
A steady red light above the exit began to blink. Then the thick metal plate anchored to the ceiling shuddered. “Door’s closing!” she yelled.
They bolted for the exit. “Go!” Rom shoved her through the swiftly narrowing opening. Muffin dove
through with her. Scraped and bruised, she tumbled alongside him over frozen dirt. The door thudded shut.
“Where’s Rom?” she shouted. “He didn’t make it!”
A small, intense explosion blew apart the door, and Rom staggered out. He snatched her hand and off they went. The cold air stung her eyes, making them water. Snowflakes pricked her cheeks like needles. Over her uneven breaths, she heard the unmistakable rumble of engines roaring to life. A pair of ships soared overhead, then another.
Sharron’s fighters
.
A snow-covered peak loomed, but Jas lost sight of it as they entered a grove of dizzyingly high coniferlike trees. Pinecones the size of Volkswagens littered the forest floor, slowing their progress. Sharp relief pierced her when she spotted a pair of sleek ships ahead.
Zarra ran out from where he was standing between the starspeeders. He tensed, abruptly raising his pistol. “Behind you!” He began blasting away at their unseen pursuers.
Beams of light exploded past. Rom and Muffin wheeled around and returned fire. Projectiles pinged off the closest starspeeder’s hull, and blinding threads of energy sliced off tree branches. Jas clutched for a holster she wished was there.
A startled cry tore through the chaos. Turning, she saw Zarra fly backward. “
Zarra!
” she screamed.
Rom caught her arm before she could run to the fallen young man. “Inside!” He thrust her into the speeder’s snug interior. The craft had accommodations for a small crew, but was by no means spacious.
“Muffin’s got Zarra?”
“Yes!”
She breathed a prayer. The kid had nine lives.
The hatch snapped shut behind them. She barely made it into one of two pilot seats in the cockpit before Rom fired the thrusters and yanked back on the yoke. The craft’s nose lurched skyward, slamming her into her seat. They broke free of the atmosphere. There was no gravity generator on this small ship, and her hair floated around her face.
“Bandits, six o’clock high!” she shouted as the display in front of her lit up in warning. With the onboard computer providing split-second timing and protection from immense forces of acceleration, Rom jammed the controls left. The stars outside spun in a stellar kaleidoscope, and the long-forgotten rush of flying combat trilled through her. This was space, not the sky, but the sensations, the maneuvers, were the same.
Rom fired. The first enemy ship burst into green and white fireworks. Chunks of debris thudded against the shield across the starspeeder’s hull. More fighters appeared on the viewscreen. Muffin immediately took out two, but the others veered in formation, heading their way.
Rom swore under his breath as his fingers danced over the console. “The missile uploader’s jammed.”
“What do you mean?” she blurted.
“Unless I fix the blasted thing, we can’t fire back.” Rom unstrapped himself.
“Where are you going?”
“Belowdecks. To the missile bay.” He squeezed past her seat. “I think I can fix it manually.”
Jas gaped at him as he floated to a hatch in the floor and opened it. “Who’s going to fly?”
Rom winked at her.
“You’recrazy!I haven’t flown combat in twenty years!”
“Worry about that later.” His head dipped out of sight.
“Damn you, B’kah.” Jas whirled back to the controls. Steadying herself, she lifted her gaze to the starfighters in pursuit and curled both hands over the yoke.
“Off my tail, you bastard!” Jas dragged Sharron’s relentless pilot through maneuvers designed to bleed off his energy and slow him down. But it wasn’t working. Thrusters capable of light speed far outperformed the jet engines she was used to, and the starfighter stayed in her six o’clock. At most, her tactics kept him from firing, giving Rom the precious minutes he needed to repair the uploader.
“Blasted thing’s up and running,” he said, pulling himself to his seat.
WEAPONS READY
blinked on the status screen. When Rom didn’t immediately grab the controls, Jas understood what he wanted her to do. She rolled the speeder upside down and pulled hard on the yoke. Head-to-head with the pursuing ship, she fired. A blinding flash blotted out the stars. “Yes!”
“Well done.”
“Thanks.” It was nice to see she hadn’t lost her touch.
Rom took control of the speeder. Muffin’s ship streaked past, trailed by a swarm of enemy starfighters. Half the squadron broke off the chase and headed their way. Her mouth went dry. “There must be twenty of them!”
“Hang on.” Rom pushed the thrust lever forward, and the stars elongated into streamers. A moment later they blasted into deep space.
“Light speed?” Jas asked when she felt her heart slow down.
“Yes. They can’t track us through hyperspace if we don’t transmit coordinates.”
“What about Muffin and Zarra?”
“They made the jump when we did. As briefed.”
“So it’s over. We’re safe.” She relaxed a fraction.
The lines bracketing his mouth deepened. “Not yet. We jumped to light speed blind. There’s no quicker way to kill yourself.” Visibly bracing himself, he slowly brought the thrust levers out of maximum. “Because you never know where you’ll come out on the other side.”
“Watch out!” Jas reared back in her seat as one of hundreds of jagged boulders tumbled past. “We’re in the middle of an asteroid field!”
Rom swerved the ship left, then right. She clamped her hands over her armrests and simply hung on. They were almost out when one of the huge rocks hit. The hollow thud vibrated through the ship. The maintenance status panel began scrolling out a list of systems affected and in need of repair. “Help me find a place to land,” he said evenly.
“What are we looking for? A flat top?”
“Flat.” He lifted his shoulders. “And wide, I suppose.”
“You
suppose?
”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Never had the occasion to land on an asteroid.”
She bit back a groan.
Rom rolled the starspeeder. An asteroid careened past, scraping the underside of the ship.
She should have been terrified, but she wasn’t. She’d never trusted anyone as much as she trusted Rom. An hour ago he’d saved her life, and, she didn’t doubt he’d do it again.
They spied the immense platelike asteroid at the same time. Craters pockmarked the hulk, which was rotating slowly like a fallen leaf on a pond. Rom aimed for it. “Hold on.”
The landing was noisy, bumpy, and short. The starspeeder skidded over a shadowy, meteorite-strewn plain, then into a shallow embankment. One last jolt threw them against their shoulder harnesses.
Jas sat perfectly still, half expecting the final blow. “We made it,” she said tentatively, glancing around.
Rom unstrapped. There was just enough gravity from the asteroid to keep him planted on the ground. Bracing himself on her armrests, he leaned over her.
“We’re alive,” she whispered. “
Alive.”
“I fear I frightened you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“In the compound. I didn’t drop my weapon as ordered.”
“Rom—”
He held up one hand. “It was a risk. But not one I made because I took your life lightly. My senses told me that
Vash
traitor would step on her own toes—given enough time.”
“You called her bluff,” Jas said. Rom shook his head in bemusement at the statement. “It’s the hallmark of the best poker players,” she explained. “Unflappability. Poker is an Earth card game.”
He almost smiled. “Yes, I know of it.”
“Beela wanted you to believe she held better cards. But she didn’t. You knew, but you didn’t show it. You forced her to play her weak hand, and she folded. You were brilliant.”
When relief suffused his handsome face, all at once she realized how worried he’d been that she thought he had risked her life unnecessarily. Profoundly touched, she reached up and framed his face with her hands. “You’re the most incredible, the most selfless man I’ve ever met. I don’t understand how or why we ended up together, only that you bring me so much joy.”
He grasped her head in his hands, then lowered his mouth to hers. Jas grabbed his cloak and deepened the kiss, straining against her waist and chest straps to pull him closer. Desire more powerful than anything she’d ever thought possible consumed her. Driven by an almost primal need to mate with him, she became the aggressor, fumbling with the fastenings of his cloak. When they wouldn’t come loose, she wrenched them open with a sharp hiss of torn fabric.
“I want you,” she said in a gasp. To refute Sharron’s claim she belonged to him, to erase Jock’s mocking words, to obliterate every lonely year in between. “Anywhere, the floor, the seat, I don’t care. I just want you.”
The stoic control that was such a part of him vanished. With hurried fingers, he unbuckled her harness and hauled her toward him. His hands closed firmly over her
buttocks, pulling her hard against him. His kiss was possessive, demanding, and there was nothing gentle or reserved in his touch.
His caresses became rougher, but so did hers. She threw their cloaks to the side, yanking off his shirt as she pulled him backward into a narrow bunk. In the light gravity, they fell onto the mattress in slow motion, as if they were underwater. Dazed by her urgency to join with him, Jasmine let her hands tangle with Rom’s in a race to free him from his trousers. Her short dress billowed to the floor. Warm, callused palms slid under her rear. And then, in one swift, incredibly deep thrust, he raised her hips and drove into her.
She cried out, her toes curling. He moved atop her, his body heavy on hers, his entry burning where he’d stretched her. But as she pushed her hips against his, the sting throbbed into sweet, aching heat.
He rocked against her, his mouth and his hands hungry and possessive. She clung to him, her fists clenching over the heaving muscles in his back, her cries of pleasure cut short as he ground his mouth over hers in a raw, savage kiss.
This was nothing like the lovemaking they’d experienced on the
Quillie
; it was a frantic, desperate mating fueled by adrenaline and a thousand emotions she could not define. They crashed together in a wild, primitive bond, an extraordinary celebration of survival. And when his powerful body stiffened, then shuddered, liquid heat filled her, triggering a sharp, exquisite climax.
They collapsed together, limbs intertwined.
Rom’s head sagged forward until his wet forehead grazed her breasts. Savoring the delicious tremors coursing
through her, she sifted lazy fingers through his damp hair. Long moments passed before either was coherent enough to speak—or think.
He lifted his head. “What have I done?”
She smiled and her lids drifted half-closed. “Made me about the most thoroughly loved woman in the universe.”
Great Mother.
Rom rolled away in self-loathing. Jamming his fingers through his hair, he sat on the edge of the bunk. By all that was holy, she was an unschooled frontier woman and he’d all but raped her. “I am an animal.”
“Mmm. An incredibly delicious animal, at that.” Jas climbed to her knees and wound her arms around him. His heart sank as she made a small snarl.
“A warrior does not give in to his own needs before those of others.”
“Wait—the way we just made love bothered you?”
“That was not lovemaking,” he said crisply. “It was primitive and undisciplined.”
“And”—she slid her slender arms around his chest to rest her cheek on his shoulder—“incredibly wonderful.”
Her soft, warm breasts pressed against the taut muscles in his back. He wanted nothing more than to lean into her embrace, to close his eyes and lose himself in her gentleness, her generosity of spirit. “I needed you,” he offered lamely. “My only thoughts were of how much I wanted you. I lost control.”
“Ah,” she said quietly. “The real issue.”
“It is inexcusable.”
Her fingertips skated lightly over the scar on his chest. “That’s what you were taught.”
“Since birth.”
“I can’t see that applying to sex.”
“
Vash Nadah
children receive instruction in the art of lovemaking from their earliest years.”
“Instruction?” she blurted, aghast. “What kind of instruction?”
“Discussions, the answering of questions by teachers experienced with the curiosity of youngsters. Nothing on the physical level until the teenage years—and then only for the males.” Memories washed over him, the perfume worn by the palace courtesans. Odd that he would remember the scent but not the bodies.
Jas’s fingers faltered over his scar. “So you had sex lessons when you were a teenager?”
“Yes. Until a
Vash Nadah
man marries, he is allowed as many women as he pleases. The purpose is to gain skills designed to bring his partner pleasure, ultimately to strengthen a marriage. ‘The foundation of society is family. Sexuality enhances spirituality.’ It is written in the Treatise of Trade, which is an integral part of our culture, and our faith.”
“I’m not criticizing any of that. And I’m by no means an experienced woman when it comes to sex. But knowing I can let go when we’re together…it’s the beauty of our lovemaking—losing control without the fear of losing myself. It’s exhilarating, like falling when you’re certain someone will catch you. I want you to feel that way with me. It doesn’t have to extend to other parts of your life if you don’t want it to. It can be something beautiful and special just between us.”
He leaned back into her arms and closed his eyes. “Here I saw my loss of control as dishonoring you, while you consider it a compliment.” He smiled at the absurdity
of it all. “Ah, Jasmine. It won’t be easy turning off the teachings of a lifetime.”
At his words, she swept tender kisses along his jaw. “I love you, Rom. It scares me to death, but I do; I truly love you with all my heart.”
He twisted around and pulled her onto his lap. Gruffly he said, “I love you. I’ve waited a lifetime for you.” Joy lit up her face. Tasting salt and sweetness, he kissed her with a depth of tenderness that was new to him, wanting to convey without words the profound emotions she evoked in him. Never had he felt closer to another.
“The idea of being stranded with you is awfully appealing,” she said when they moved apart. “We’ll have to talk—about Sharron, about a lot of things. But for now, I hope we’re not in a rush to repair this thing.”
“The only thing I want to repair is lost time.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and tossed her onto the bunk. Though the menace of Sharron’s survival and Beela’s threats remained, for a brief moment his heart felt as light as Siennan mist. “I say it’s time we took advantage of the fact that we’re temporarily marooned.”
“Fast and furious,” she asked teasingly, “or slow and sweet?”
He gave a deep chuckle and gathered her close. “On that, angel, you’ll simply have to trust me.”
All through the night he loved her with skill and tenderness. As the hours melted one into the next, he introduced her to erotic forms of lovemaking far beyond her experience, bringing her pleasure beyond her imagination. Her fragile sexual confidence bloomed.
When they finally rested, Jasmine whispered, “I didn’t
think I was capable of this.” She was a real woman again—a normal woman who could give and receive intimate pleasure. Maybe it was because this time she’d chosen a man, instead of a boy masquerading as one. Rom filled the emptiness inside her as no one ever had, and she wanted to see where the relationship would go. But with light-years separating her from her children, from her family and friends, how could she with a good conscience consider staying in space longer than the time she’d planned?
As if sensing her disquiet, Rom wordlessly embraced her, his fingertips wandering over the contours of her back.
Lost in thought, she snuggled against him.
“Lights,” Rom said after a while. “Setting dim.” Only an overhead light in the bunkroom glowed faintly as they lay twined together, no barriers between them.
Rom wondered what his father would say if word reached the palace reporting that his erstwhile heir was consorting with a once-married, midnight-haired frontier woman with no knowledge of the Treatise of Trade—a mate who would have been absolutely the wrong choice in his former life. No doubt Lord B’kah would denounce him as he had before, iterating to all that his son lacked discipline, that he was impulsive, and that he cared nothing for the foundation of their society. What better way to prove the old man right than by openly taking Jas Hamilton as his lover?
But the very thought of using her induced a shudder of self-loathing. Jas did not belong in a pointless game of spite. She belonged in his arms, warm and sated, while his ship traversed the eternal night of endless space.
Your life is your own now, he reminded himself. Yes, he could be with whomever he pleased. Wrapping his beloved in the protection of his strong body, he let her quiet breathing lull him to sleep.
“Zarra’s dead.”
Dead
. Too shocked to speak, Rom shifted his gaze from Gann’s face on the viewscreen to the meal he’d been sharing with Jas before being hailed by the
Quillie
in what he presumed was a routine call to set up their rendezvous.
“
Oh, God
,” Jas murmured in her language, dropping into a crouch next to Rom’s chair, her hand resting on his thigh.
“He got to his feet as soon as he went down,” Gann explained, his words, Rom suspected, as cautiously chosen as footsteps in a nuclear minefield. “The boy even boarded the speeder on his own. But the blood loss was too severe, too swift—there was nothing Muffin could do. He…died a warrior, Rom.”