by Imogene Nix
“I’m pleased to be here, Duvall. Having an uncle who happens to be an admiral, he was able to let Captain Elphin know that I wanted to surprise you. It’s a small world in the Admiralty. Elphin already knew of me, so he okayed my placement. Once the powers knew there was no impediments to me joining the crew, it was fairly simple from there.” She felt a small smile creep onto her face, then let it drop away. “What do you think Grayson thinks?”
“Ah, still chasing him, are you?” He grinned, his eyes twinkling. “I think he’ll be pleased you’re finally old enough and you’re here.” He looked her straight in the eye. “But you may just need to remind him of that particular fact.” He motioned for her to go before him, barking out a deep laugh. “Come on, I’ll show you to your cabin.”
Chapter Two
Elara took a quick look around her SurgiTech Suite and felt a glow in her chest.
“It’s surprisingly well stocked and resourced.” Her voice echoed in the large room stocked with the latest in diagnostic equipment.
The highly trained staff was moving quietly around the suite beyond her office, talking in muted tones. The walls were painted white with light-blue accents, a far cry from the gunmetal gray that covered the rest of the ship, and she grinned, knowing that the tones were chosen to soothe even the most badly injured crewmember.
Her office continued the scheme, which promoted healing and harmony. The floors, she noted, had been sealed with noise-barrier skins, meaning nothing would startle patients, least of all the doors, fitted with the latest sound-limiting devices. She breathed in the clean air. No recycled atmosphere here for recovering patients, she thought, satisfied that no expense had been spared in the equipping of the SurgiTech suite along with the rest of the battleship.
“And it’s my office and my Surgi-Tech.” A glow of happiness warmed her insides.
She was finally there, not just on board the Star of Ishtar, but on the same ship as Grayson. The years of hard work and study fell away as she drank in the excitement of her achievement. Elara knew she had proven herself repeatedly in her drive to achieve this placement. She took a deep breath and centered herself once more.
A beep at the door alerted her to a visitor outside her office, where she sat reviewing her day from waking on Aenna to her quick rounds of the suite. She tabbed on the comm, leaning forward in her chair. “Yes?” She kept her voice low and calm. Controlled.
“Commander Myatt here. May I enter?”
A frisson of excitement shimmered through her system at his voice. “Of course, Commander.”
She gave the order for the door to open and stood, then walked to the other side of the desk, a smile on her face, with her hands outstretched as the door closed behind him with a whoosh. She moved silently forward into his open arms, taking in his grin. He looked so good in his formal uniform.
The hug was enveloping but not nearly enough. She wasn’t some green girl to be pacified with a single caress. She breathed in his musky scent and nestled against his firm chest. She’d waited a long time and worked hard for this chance. She needed to act her age and role if she hoped to make him see her as much more than the girl he had rescued so many years ago. After all these years, she was done hoping he would work it out by himself. After all, he’d done a poor job of seeing what was there, waiting for him.
“Damn, it’s good to see you, Elara. Barsha! Here you are as the ST of the Ishtar! Well done, little girl.”
His triumphant grin didn’t stop the sting of his words. Calling her little girl with that sexy-sounding voice of his cut through her once more, just as it had always done in the past when he had called her his little girl. She gritted her teeth. The time had come to let him know she was a woman, she reminded herself firmly.
He kept talking, and she watched his hands as they moved, keeping track of his words and actions. “But you surprised me. Why did you keep your transfer here so quiet?” His tone sounded good-natured enough, but she couldn’t answer the question with words. She needed him to understand why she had transferred for himself.
“It’s good to see you too, Grayson.”
She reached up onto her toes, grabbed his broad, muscular shoulders, and kissed him softly on the cheek. Lingeringly. Elara allowed her lips to hover just longer than normal. She waited a heartbeat more so Grayson would recognize the implied invitation. He reared back in surprise, eyes wide open in shock as it registered. His face flushed as she stepped back from him, and inwardly she sighed, conceding she had her work cut out for her.
“Right.” He backed away emotionally even as he spoke that simple word. The quick way he looked away from her face told her he was uncomfortable with the new Elara. He glanced down at her uniform. “You obviously got the memo about dress standards. We need to head directly to the captain’s dining room. He was most insistent that you should join the leadership team tonight, as it is your first meal aboard the Ishtar.”
He motioned with a short movement of his hand for her to precede him out the door, which opened automatically, then closed behind them. They stopped for her to give the voice command for the doors to lock her office and only open for herself and the three most senior officers of the Ishtar. Once Elara was satisfied that everything was in order, they made their way along the drab gray decking toward the elevators at the end of the corridor.
Chapter Three
As Elara walked in front of Grayson he watched her gait. No longer was it the coltish scramble he remembered from years ago, but a womanly, flowing movement as she moved along the deck, her dress shoes silent with each step.
She might be small, but time had filled out her body, giving her the graceful curves that he had caught glimpses of that first time he saw her, naked and tied to the examining table. The curves he’d watched for years had changed and filled out. His hands itched to touch them. Her hips swayed as she moved, and he felt the low curl of lust deep in his gut. Heat spread through his body, the clothing he wore was suddenly too tight, and a trickle of sweat burrowed down his collar and back; the same way he always felt after a close encounter with her.
The woman-child he remembered from years ago was gone, and in her place stood a sensual, composed woman, comfortable in herself. One who had learned the lure of the siren, causing the tightness in his chest that hadn’t eased at all since that kiss on the cheek. That hadn’t been a sisterly peck, not with her lips warm and supple against his face, the whisper of her breath fanning his skin.
For an instant he had to close his eyes to banish the burning thoughts that rose in his mind of her naked and writhing in his arms. When he opened them, he still saw her, her body clothed in her black formal uniform, which revealed her curves, each glorious one accentuated in a way he had never expected. These uniforms, he knew, were designed with gender balancing in mind, but somehow she obviously benefitted from the utilitarian fabric and cut. For years, he’d tried successfully to control his reaction to her, but now he failed, and the dark uniform conspired against him. His hands fisted as he walked along the corridor, his nails digging into his palms, but the pain offered no surcease to his arousal.
“Which way?”
He stopped and glanced at her face. “What?”
She grinned. “Which way do we go?”
He gestured to the lift doors and she paled.
“Do we have to?”
“It’s the only way, Elara.”
He watched as she tried to control a shudder. He knew she didn’t cope well in enclosed spaces, due to her experience in that warehouse, and he felt a bubble of pride grow in his chest at the way she controlled herself and her fear, standing firm even as he knew it buffeted her. He watched her closely and saw that beautiful jawline firm and the pink lips tighten as she controlled her reaction while they waited for the elevator. It arrived and they stepped inside the small cubicle.
“It’s the command elevator, keyed to only certain staff.” He swiped his personnel card and depressed the button. The light shined, showing the command had b
een accepted, and the doors closed silently, enclosing them within the confined space.
“Well, at least it’ll be quick.” She spoke quickly, as if forcing the words from her mouth.
He heard the sound of her swallowing and silently applauded the way she held herself together.
Suddenly a clank filled the air and the lights went out in the elevator. It shuddered to a stop, pushing them both slightly off-balance for a second. Her rapid intake of breath rasped in the elevator car, and her breathing grew faster as, he was sure, the memories crowded in. He moved toward her instinctively. The need to wrap his arms around her urged him forward. He felt the tension in her body making her stiff and silent in his arms. She grabbed his waist, clutching him tightly.
“It’s okay. We’ve been having a few problems with this particular elevator over the last few days.” He murmured the words in her ear, hoping they would help her fears, give her some relief from the demons that rode her hard, but he mentally chastised himself for choosing this elevator. Barsha! He’d known they were having issues. He should have used one of the others. He could feel the thudding of her heart through the material of her uniform.
He groped in the pocket of his formal ship suit for the small personal communicator he kept on hand, hoping it would work in this elevator shaft. It was military issue and refurbished to give it maximum connectivity, but that didn’t give him any reassurance that it would work in the reinforced well. Grayson pulled it out and flicked it open, watching as it lit up the interior of the elevator, casting shadows into the corners. His jaw ached as it remained clenched, and a nerve pulsed in his cheek as he held his anger at himself in check. He hit the commbutton and waited for the signal to connect. And waited as it searched for a connection before finally confirming and hailing the recipient.
“Gray? I don’t like this.” She shuddered in his arms and he hauled her closer, tight against his chest. He only sought to settle her nerves, but his body reacted. He sucked in a breath, the sound loud to his hearing.
A grainy-sounding noise came through the speaker. Barsha. Duvall hadn’t answered his communit, and the message recall service activated. He decided to leave a message, knowing Duvall checked it regularly. “Duvall, I’m in the command elevator, and it’s seized again. Elara is with me.” His friend would decode the unspoken message.
Elara released a sound, a cross between a moan and hiccup.
He angled his head so that his lips whispered against her soft hair. “Shh, Lara. Duvall will sort this out quickly,” he reassured her, hoping Duvall would pick up his message sooner rather than later.
Her small hands gripped his waist as he closed the communicator with a snap against his leg. “I hate this,” she whispered, her breath brushing against his skin.
“I know.”
She shuddered slightly, and he kissed the top of her head. Her scent rose toward him, filling him with its heady exoticness, and his body ached in response. He rubbed his hands up and down her back as he marveled at the restraint she showed, feeling her soft curves under his hands.
Given the circumstances, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had started screaming by now, but she continued to hold herself together with a strength greater than most women he had ever met. He could feel the tension in her body, knew she fought herself fiercely. He closed his eyes, hating the need that rose in him even as he sought to find a way to soothe her. The burning warmth of her body invaded the coldness of the silent elevator shaft.
His communicator buzzed in his hand. He flipped it open. “Grayson,” he said, his voice now harsh with restrained emotion. On the other end, he could hear Duvall through the static.
“...working on...done...soon...hang tight.” The crackle and pop of the interference of the metal in the elevator made it hard to understand, but he got the general gist of the message. Duvall knew the situation and was dealing with it. He would have them out as soon as possible; all Grayson had to do was keep Elara from losing it.
“That was Duvall. He’s working on it, and he’ll have us out of here as soon as he can.”
She nodded against his chest as he moved her toward the wall of the elevator and encouraged her to sit, feeling her slide down the wall. The interior of the elevator was dark and silent with no light shining from its blank panels. He lowered himself beside her, the roundness of her backside touching his thighs.
Since the screen of his communicator shined, he kept it open, letting it illuminate their prison. He knew that the pale green glow provided small comfort for her.
She’s probably remembering her days as a prisoner. The warehouse had been dark, except for the experimentation rooms. He remembered that horrible room well. It was where he and Duvall had found her. He knew a little of some of her experiences. That she’d spent a lot of time in darkness listening to the screams and moans of the other victims. They’d kept the prisoners in cages no bigger than cupboards. Elara had suffered from claustrophobia ever since then.
Elara pulled away slightly, her hand gripping his. Her grip squeezed his fingers hard, nails digging into his skin, but he ignored it. “I hate places like this. It reminds me of that building. Those days they had me there.” Her voice trembled, and the broken tones shattered him.
He squeezed the hand he kept safe in his. She returned it, her hand soft but strong, as if she drew strength from the connection. As it always did, a rage welled within him, black, greasy, and threatening to drown him.
“I know,” he said, “But I won’t let anything happen to you. You know that, don’t you?”
A sound like a wet hiccup escaped from her. Reaching over, he pulled her forward once more. Wetness seeped through the shoulder of his uniform and he knew what it was. Barsha! She’s crying. He hated when she cried. Elara was so strong, but sometimes even she couldn’t keep the tears at bay. Anger at himself rose again. She’d cried more tears than anyone should have to, and now he blamed himself for reminding her once more of the terror and pain.
“We got the bastards who held you prisoner, Elara. And they stood trial. They paid. If I could lay my hands on Crick Sur Banden though, I’d squeeze him until he was dead.” He knew his voice sounded cold, and she shuddered again. He needed to give her something to hang on to, he reasoned. Had to make it better for her, somehow, no matter the cost to himself.
“I know that, but I still see them at night in my dreams. I can’t ever escape the memories.”
The broken whisper of her voice nearly killed him. He pulled her onto his lap, and she reached her arms up around his neck. He could only see dimly in the green light from the communicator, but the tear tracks on her damaged face shined bright in the watery light. He groaned and pulled her closer to his chest.
He needed to comfort her, and with no thought other than showing her he understood and cared, he pulled her face up to his, placing his hand on the silken skin of her chin, and kissed her. It was merely as a comfort, he told himself. The shock of her soft lips on his kick-started something within him. Hard. His body reacted, and he deepened the kiss. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and her mouth opened to his, accepting his touch even as her tongue slid against his own.
The commlink beeped and he froze, shoulders tensing. “McCord here. You two still okay?”
Grayson realized what he’d done as she pulled back, looking at him. Barsha! She was hurting and there he was taking advantage of the situation! He mentally chastised himself. Her eyes opened wide, shining in the light. He closed himself against the shock he guessed he would see in her face at his ill-timed and ill-considered move. How could he? The words echoed through his brain. How could he take advantage?
A noise intruded into the dark elevator, and suddenly the lights on the command pad started to flash back to life. One by one, the lighting strips flickered on, off, then back on. He grabbed his communicator and stood, pulling Elara upright as the last of the lights came back on.
Duvall’s voice filtered through the communicator. “Are you both okay?”
> “Yeah, we’re fine,” Grayson said tersely, his chest now unbearably tight as anger roiled within him. That stupid maneuver with Elara had cost him. He’d already been wound tight, his emotions in turmoil, just like every other time he’d been in her presence. But somehow this time seemed worse than his previous experiences.
He shook his head mentally. He’d have to watch his step. Otherwise, he could be facing a harassment charge, and more importantly he’d lose the brief contact he had with her. It wouldn’t be Elara who’d bring the charges though. He knew that. She’d never damage their friendship like that. Unlike him and his ill thought-out ideas. No, someone else would do it, and he’d likely deserve it unless he reined himself and his emotions in.
Elara had figured in so many of his fantasies for so long, he had stepped over the line without really thinking about it. Barsha! She was swiping tears away with shaking fingers, and he handed her the handkerchief he kept in his pocket, watching silently as she tidied herself. The elevator began to whirr back into action as she handed back the soft cloth. He turned away.
Within minutes, they stood outside the captain’s dining room, waiting for the door to open. They waited in silence as Duvall joined them. She glanced at Grayson several times, as if she wanted to say something. He thanked the stars she didn’t.
Chapter Four
The memory of what had happened in the elevator played on a loop in Elara’s mind, dragging her attention away from the dinner she now pushed around her plate. She had been shocked at finally feeling Grayson’s lips on hers. When she’d pulled back so she could see his face in the gloom, he’d once more withdrawn from her, probably thinking she didn’t want his touch.
Damned idiot woman. You’ve wanted this for so darn long, and you finally get the chance and you blow it. She’d made a huge mistake in pulling away because she’d needed to gauge his response to the passion that flared between them.