Jannike packed up the food then placed it by Kelvin. “I take it a ruby-dotted whippet is fast.”
“Holds speed records on the planet Playolia,” Lynx answered even as the change took him.
“What about you, Kelvin?” Jannike asked. “Are you running with us?”
“No, I’m safer in this form. A floris won’t find me an attractive meal. I’ll keep Royal and the sienna-eyed markowls safe. Don’t worry. The dragon won’t bother me. He knows I’ll strike out with my whip branches and damage his wings. A wounded floris is a vulnerable one.”
“Maintain silence now,” Shiloh warned. “Hand signals only.”
Jannike nodded and edged from beneath the shelter, her gaze tracking the dragon. It was a beautiful creature, the bright red wings large and eye-catching. Its body, a deeper, less showy red, held streamlined strength. The dragon’s giant maw hung open, testing the air for scent. Even from this distance, the sharp white teeth were visible. With rapid wing cycles, the creature sped through the air, cutting the distance separating them.
When the dragon gazed straight at her, Jannike ducked deeper into the shade of their screen. The dragon did know of their presence. She tensed, waited a sec before checking on the creature’s progress again. It kept coming, coming, coming until the individual scales protecting its hide were visible from where she stood.
“Get ready to run,” Shiloh murmured.
Jannike’s muscles tensed. Funny. She’d spent cycles and rotations wishing she were dead, beyond the pain and humiliation. Sure, things had improved once she’d managed to escape, but even then, she hadn’t cared if she lived or died as long as she was in control, the one calculating the risk to her person. Now that possible death stared her in the face once again, regrets pressed down on her shoulders.
She’d changed.
Ry, Camryn and the rest of the Indy crew were her family, and she wouldn’t have a chance to say goodbye.
The dragon let out a bellow. Flames shot from its snout and left scorch marks on the sand and rocks. The dragon angled lower, spiky talons outstretched and fixed its gaze on them. Another spurt of fire shot close enough for Royal to let out a yelp.
“Now,” Shiloh said in a terse voice.
Jannike propelled herself down the hill and away from the tracker lizards. Shiloh leaped, twisting his body into feline in a smooth shift.
Every sec she expected those wicked claws to spear her, for dragon fire to torch her skin and roast her until she resembled a burnt potato. Each breath sawed up her throat, sweat blurred her vision.
Flames struck the ground beside her, so close the heat seared her skin, made her stride falter. Off-footed, she didn’t see a rock in her path until too late. She fell hard, hands flat to brace her fall. Sand. Dust. Pain.
Death hovered in beast form.
Manx Two truly would be the death of her.
Chapter Seven
Lynx pulled up, his sides heaving as horror clamped around his ribs. The floris dragon swooped, its maw wide open to display wicked teeth. Fire exploded from its mouth—a flare of red and orange and burnished copper. A snarl vibrated in his throat, and he changed direction to hurtle toward Jannike.
She’d scrambled to her feet and faced off with the dragon.
Faster, faster, faster.
Phrull, he wasn’t going to make it.
A scream rang out in the distant. Lynx slowed, head cocking to hear. The roar rippled through the air again, panicked and full of terror.
Shiloh?
Fear gripped him by the scruff, and his heart almost beat out of his chest.
Up ahead, the dragon lifted its gaze from Jannike. His large scarlet wings flapped and his big head tilted.
The third shriek shredded Lynx. So much pain and suffering in the bellow. Shiloh…
Lynx skidded to a halt and whirled to scan the landscape. Not Shiloh. Relief eased from him in a feline hiss.
The dragon tormenting Jannike with its firebreath bellowed in return, the shriek full of fury and anguish. Large wings lifted its red body higher into the air, and he departed with a speed Lynx wouldn’t have thought possible, given the size of the beast. Surely they hadn’t had this creature on the ship. Containing it… Lynx couldn’t begin to think of the difficulties.
A feline bark dragged his attention away from the dragon’s departure, and Lynx picked up the speed.
Jannike was down again.
Lynx reached her before Shiloh. He shifted smoothly and crouched beside her prone body. She lay on her stomach, her shoulders trembling, her face hid in her arm. “What is it? Where are you hurt?”
Shiloh skidded to a halt beside him. He shifted. “Her clothes are scorched, but burns are minimal. The bastard was playing with her.”
Lynx snorted. “The governess used to smack us over the knuckles with her spoon when we played with our food.”
The shudders and tremors increased in Jannike, and Lynx smoothed his hand over her upper arm. He frowned as the quakes froze and suspicion rose. “Was she laughing?”
“Jannike. Jannike!” Lynx turned her over, searched her face then ran his hands over her body to check for broken bones and other less obvious injuries.
“Don’t touch,” she snapped, the remnants of humor blanking from her expression.
“Where are you hurt?” Shiloh demanded with his usual abruptness.
“Don’t fukkin touch me.” Jannike bolted upright and batted at Lynx’s hands.
Shiloh sat back on his haunches, his mouth twisted into a sneer. “What’s wrong, princess? Afraid of getting feline cooties?”
She scooted away and stood on shaky legs, wavering, her strong features pale. Her blonde hair bore scorch marks on one side, the ends sticking upward in crazy disorder. His mother—the queen—would raise her hands in horror if the same sight greeted her in a looking glass.
Lynx scanned the rest of her body. Dust covered her trews, rips in one knee and another at her calf where a tracker had bitten her on capture. Her tunic carried a mixture of dirt and dust and one sleeve appeared singed. Her hand slipped beneath her tunic to scratch her belly.
In the distance, the whistling shrieks of the tracker lizards had become louder, more frenzied. The floris dragon bellowed, its fury carrying across the desert.
“We need to see what’s happening,” Jannike said.
“Do you need help?” Shiloh asked.
“No!” She put up her hands in a defensive manner.
Shiloh let out a disgusted snort. “Phrull, lady. What is your problem?” He spun on his heel and strode away.
“Jannike?” Lynx asked.
“Leave me.” This time there was no force in her voice. She sounded…she sounded defeated.
“I won’t touch, but I’m not leaving until I know you can get yourself up the hill and back to camp.”
“I thought I was dead. The dragon could have had me at any time.”
“But he didn’t.” Lynx wanted to help, to carry her since she moved so gingerly, but he respected her demands and held back.
“No.”
“You were laughing.”
“Kaya would have slapped me for acting hysterical.”
“Kaya?” He gave her space, which seemed ease her snappish mood. He didn’t know a lot about her since he’d spent most of his time with Shiloh while locked in the cell.
“Kaya is one of the crew. My friend.”
The climb up the slight incline took Jannike longer than it should. Her gait hitched with a limp, and by the time they reached Kelvin, her breaths came in hoarse pants.
“I’ll get the medical supplies. The graze on your knee requires treatment. This heat will bring on infection.”
Jannike rounded on him with a glare. “I can do it myself.”
“Fine.” Ungrateful female. Lynx stomped over to join Shiloh. “What is wrong with that woman? She won’t let anyone help her, gets hysterical at the idea of anyone touching her.”
“Rape,” Shiloh said without taking his gaze off th
e plains below their rocky haven.
“Phrull it. That should have occurred to me.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Shiloh shifted his weight then scratched his chest. “So we do as she says and keep our distance. You have to admire her tenacity, her determination. She’s not the same as other females. You itchy?”
“Yeah. The heat seems to make it worse.”
“The black marks are making my skin itch. It—damn. Did you see that?”
Lynx stared at the dragon, part awe, part fear fighting for dominance. The calls of the tracker lizards were deafening, even from this distance. “The dragon is picking them off.”
A sword of firebreath slashed and skewered the shrieking creatures even as they ducked and danced, trying to escape the dragon’s wrath and talons. A cloud of dust headed at the melee.
“That will be the big bastard who captured us,” Shiloh said. “I hope he fries.”
“What are we going to do? Push on and pray the dragon doesn’t decide to attack again.” Lynx rubbed one of the black marks on his abdomen. The relief was momentary, the bugs beneath his skin gathering momentum when he lifted his fingers.
“That’s all we can do. No point staying here. The heat isn’t as fierce as it was earlier. We should eat and take the opportunity to slip away while they’re busy fighting.”
Shiloh made sense. “Let’s go.”
With the heat from the solar-star reducing as blacklight approached, they packed their meager possessions and set off.
The shrieks from the tracker lizards had died away, and the resulting silence lifted the small hairs at the back of his neck. There was little chatter from their party, merely a silent determination.
At least they wouldn’t need to worry about the tracker lizards any longer.
Shiloh followed in the rear as he had earlier, his thoughts darting this way and that while every one of his senses scanned for danger.
Progress became quicker now that they didn’t need to battle the unrelenting heat. Not long until blacklight fell.
A twitch beneath his skin made him catch his breath. He scraped his nails over the spot in an attempt to alleviate the irritation. It wouldn’t help. He knew that, but it didn’t stop his vigorous scratching. Maybe touching Lynx…
Once they made camp to wait out the worst of the blacklight, they could rub against each other. He didn’t even care about the stink of sweat. He was desperate to gain relief. Perhaps he might persuade Lynx to let him try oral.
The thought didn’t raise panic or stamp him with worries of losing their friendship, which told Shiloh how desperate he was for Lynx’s touch.
Kelvin walked in his normal stoic manner, tall and sturdy like the trees he resembled. The markowls perched on his broad shoulders.
Jannike marched with a stiff back, a slight hitch in her gait. The calibore clung to her right shoulder. She’d told them she’d been a slave, had used her body to barter her way from the prison. And rape. That fell somewhere into the mix. She seemed to have great faith in her friends. He hoped she was right to place her trust in rescue. They could use a miracle.
Still, she raised his curiosity.
Strong and determined. Dependable as far as he knew. The calibore creature loved her and never left her presence for long. She had a manner about her—an air of command he recognized because he owned the same trait. A bit bossy. His lips twitched.
Not a female that grabbed a male’s attention first off. Not unattractive. She bore a subtle sexiness. That red thing she wore beneath her tunic. The way it cupped and lifted her, put her breasts on display. His cock had jolted to life, and he’d wanted to go to her, to run his fingers over her shoulders, press his lips to her collarbone…
He snorted out a breath because even now remorse sat heavy on his shoulders. The idea of touching another person in a sexual manner—after that first instant—seemed wrong, as if he was cheating on Lynx.
Luckily, sanity had prevailed.
Still, he wanted to learn more. Ask questions about her friends and the places they’d traveled. He could make the conversation casual, offer a few of their experiences in return. Furtively grab facts to appease his inquisitiveness.
The solar-star fell below the horizon, taking the light and the last of the heat. Shiloh lifted his head, relieved to see pinpricks of light from other solar-stars.
“Can we stop for a drink?” Jannike asked. “I don’t know why but I feel thirstier after eating a meal than I did before.”
Lynx halted at the front of their group.
“I hear some say ’tis best to drink rather than eat when in desert,” Kelvin said.
“You didn’t think to say this before,” Jannike demanded.
“We don’t have many options.” Shiloh lifted the makeshift bag off his shoulders and pulled out a water container. “We need to keep up our energy.”
Jannike barked out a laugh. “Keep us alive a little longer so we can have a repeat experience of the heat.”
“Exactly.” Shiloh found himself grinning. She had a subtle sense of humor, one that people might miss if they focused on her scowl.
“What was up with that dragon?” she asked as they lounged against handy rocks. “He intended to eat me.”
“He might still eat us,” Lynx said. “They’re excellent hunters.”
“Cheerful Charlie,” Shiloh muttered.
Jannike chuckled, the notes hoarse but amusement nonetheless. His heartbeat did a skip. Guilt bounced up and down on his shoulder, this time accompanied by bemusement. He tested the feeling, counted up the clues and came up with a conclusion.
He wanted to stick his cock inside Jannike.
The water smoothed the dust in her mouth, her throat. The hot patches of skin where the dragon had seared her with its fire throbbed and combined with the itches to create a nasty torture. Now, she couldn’t rub as hard or she’d break the skin. Experience had taught her infection gained a hand up in hot climes.
She had to stop scratching.
A subtle itch sprang to life on her stomach. She ignored the fluttering prickle.
“Should we start moving again?” she asked.
“Yes,” Kelvin said.
Jannike placed a hand on his coarse arm. “You didn’t have a drink.”
“I drank back at the ship. I don’t require water yet.”
And if she drank as much water as Kelvin had, she’d pee like a racehorse. Another of Camryn’s quaint expressions, and it raised a smile.
She fell into line behind Lynx and forced her achy legs to move at the pace he set. The level of the irritation beneath her skin had subsided when she thought of her friends. Maybe she should focus on the good times and their recent trip to visit Camryn’s family on Earth. One of her friends, Amme, had remained on Earth to stay with the man she’d come to love.
Love.
Sex.
And…the fukkin prickles raced back, stronger than before.
All she had to do was think of sex. The trigger apparently.
“Jannike? Jannike! What’s wrong?”
Lynx had slowed when the path carving between the rocks they were traversing had widened. Now he walked at her side, his expression quizzical.
“What?”
“You were mumbling.” His grin broadened, his teeth a flash of white even in the murky lighting. “I thought I heard you mention sex.”
Jannike stumbled over a rock, and Lynx’s muscular arm gripped her around the waist before she tumbled headfirst onto the ground.
“I’m okay,” she said hastily. “Don’t touch me.”
“Your scorch marks. Sorry, I forgot.” He lifted his hands in surrender, backed up half a step. Royal hissed from his perch on her shoulder. “I was trying to help.”
“Thank you.” Not that his increased distance made much difference. She’d caught his scent. Yes, he was dirty and sweaty like her, but he also possessed a masculine scent that tugged at the feminine part of her psyche. The tiny prickles increased, le
aping around like March hares. Not that she recalled Camryn’s explanation at present. She just knew hares jumped. A lot.
“What’s the problem?” Shiloh asked.
“It’s dark.” Jannike reached to soothe her calibore. “I tripped.” Even she heard the belligerence in her tone. “Doesn’t matter. We should keep traveling because the temperatures will plummet soon.”
She caught Lynx studying her and gestured with her head. Thankfully, he didn’t voice further questions. He shrugged and moved back to the lead. Jannike concentrated on walking, one foot after the other.
No more sex thoughts. No more sex thoughts. Stupid woman. Why hadn’t she realized she was mumbling aloud?
Time blurred, and Jannike kept plodding after Lynx. The darkness hadn’t become absolute, just enough to make her eyes strain to make out objects in her path. Probably her saving grace. She couldn’t ogle Lynx’s butt in this light.
A knifelike pain sliced through her belly. Her cry escaped before she could button her lips.
“Jannike needs to rest,” Kelvin’s voice boomed from behind her. “I will carry Royal if he allows the honor.”
The boom took her by surprise, but she was too exhausted to leap in reaction. Inside, her stomach jolted and set off an echo of prickles and itches.
“I can carry you,” Shiloh offered.
“No!” Goddess, that would make it worse. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—touch either of these men. She liked them, admired them, but what was the point? They’d have to go to the dome eventually or die in this sandpit. If the widow heard of her presence, or worse, captured her, she’d die a horrid death.
Mates connected on many levels. It wasn’t that she disliked either of these men. Hellfire, she’d only ever wanted one, but now in her delirium she craved two. She didn’t know what to do with two men. As much as she loved Ry Coppersmith, the man was a handful. She didn’t want a boss—not one or two—she wanted a partner.
Her sex clenched at the thought, the prickles stealthily creeping across her breasts. Another soft groan exited before she could halt the sound.
“Jannike.” Shiloh scooped her up and their group slogged onward.
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