JANE'S WARLORD

by user

  He rose in a rush of angry muscle. “She wasn’t an idiot, Jane. But she wasn’t a warrior, either. Are you?”

  She sighed. “Well, no.”

  “You can’t understand combat until you’ve been in it. And the Xerans are like nothing you’ve ever encountered. You don’t know how they think, what they’re capable of. I do. I’ve been fighting and killing them for twenty years.”

  Jane stood, finding it to uncomfortable to sit with him looming over her, all angry male strength barely held in check. “You made your point, Baran.”

  “You’ll obey orders?” His eyes were narrow, burning like flames in his skull.

  “Yeah. Aye aye, sir. Whatever.” She turned away from him, suddenly needing breathing room, time to think. “I’m going to get something to eat. You want anything?”

  “Not particularly, but I’m coming with you.” He moved to the bag he’d dropped in a closet the night before and dug in it for something to wear.

  “Somehow,” she said dryly, reluctantly admiring the muscular curve of his butt clad only in briefs, “I didn’t expect anything else.”

  You smell like sex, Freika commed to Baran as they watched Jane bustle around the kitchen. Why don’t you look happier?

  It makes more than sex to make humans happy, Freika.

  Which pretty well sums up your whole problem. The wolf flicked his left ear lazily. You all think too much. If you thought less, you wouldn’t make yourselves so miserable.

  Baran’s lips curled in an wry smile. You’ve got a point.

  Freika nodded regally. Of course.

  Jane walked over and plopped a bowl down in front of his paws. “Breakfast is served. You ate the rib eye, so it’s hamburger for you until we can go shopping.”

  He sniffed the bowl. “There’s not enough meat in there to keep a Chihuahua alive.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to have the Big Bad Wolf for a houseguest. That’s what you get when you drop in on people unannounced.”

  Suddenly something furry shot past to leap on the kitchen counter. Baran whirled, automatically dropping into a combat crouch.

  Only to find himself almost nose to nose with a tan and black house cat. It meowed loudly, looking neurotic. Chagrined, he straightened.

  “Perhaps I’ll just have an appetizer,” Frieka said, eyeing the animal.

  “Touch my cat and die, hairball.” To her pet, Jane added, “Where have you been all night?”

  “Hiding under the couch.” The wolf took a fastidious bite from his bowl. “She’s lucky I didn’t just flip it over and snack.” To Baran, he added, “And you say I have no self-control.”

  “Leave the cat alone, Freika.”

  “Certainly—if Jane starts buying a better cut of meat.”

  She looked up from operating something astonishingly loud; Baran’s comp identified it as an electric can opener. “Keep it up and you’ll be munching on the cheapest kibble I can find.” Dumping the can’s smelly contents into a bowl on the counter, she added to the cat, “Here ya go, Octopussy. Can you believe these guys? They think just because they come from the future, they get to eat us.”

  Baran grinned. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

  “You caught me in a weak moment.” She grinned at him, then sobered. “Speaking of time travelers, I’ve been thinking. Would Druas be staying in Tayanita, or is he Jumping back and forth from the future?”

  Baran leaned against the counter and folded his arms. “It’s possible, but I doubt it. Charging the suit’s power packs after a Jump that long is time-consuming. And frankly, Druas doesn’t strike me as that patient.”

  “Think he’d get a hotel room in the present?”

  He asked his comp for data on twenty-first century hotels, then paused to consider the results. “It’s a possibility. Though there are a lot of woods in this area. He could have established a camp out there.”

  Freika looked up from his bowl. “Assuming he doesn’t just kill somebody and commandeer their house.”

  Jane opened a cabinet and got out a bowl, then started rummaging in her refrigerator. “Those are possibilities, but it’d be hard to check them out. On the other hand, there are only three motels in Tayanita County. We could see if he’s at one of them. At least eliminate them as possibilities.”

  Baran considered the idea, frowning. “I don’t think I want to confront him with you in the line of fire.”

  “I don’t intend to get in the line of fire. I can hang back with Cujo here if we find anything. The furball can protect me while you go ... do whatever it is you’re planning on doing.”

  “Kill him.”

  “Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “Killing him is good.” She shook herself and looked over at him. “So. What do you want for breakfast?”

  Jane was heading upstairs to clean up, Baran on her heels, when she realized the implications of taking her clothes off in front of him again. She cleared her throat. “I’m going to need a shower.”

  He smiled, slow and wicked. “What a coincidence. So do I.”

  She swallowed, remembering the dizzying warmth of his hands, the heat of his mouth. Among other things. “Oh.”

  His eyes started to glow.

  Well, she thought as her nipples peaked, if my life has to turn into an episode of The X-Files, at least there are fringe benefits.

  Jane walked into the bedroom ahead of him with every nerve quivering and alert. This is so not a good idea, the voice of sanity said. The man has more issues than Dad’s National Geographic collection. And that’s aside from the whole business of going back to the future as soon as he kills the bad guy. Assuming Druas doesn’t get us first....

  On the other hand, she’d always had a secret fantasy about no-strings sex with a gorgeous stranger. They didn’t get any more gorgeous than Baran.

  Or, come to think of it, any stranger.

  The only catch was, she had to keep it light. This was the equivalent of a shipboard fling—or at least a doing-battle-with-a-psychopath fling. It would be way too easy to get hung up on Baran, and that would be bad. She’d have enough psychological scars out of this episode as it was— that damn recording alone would probably give her nightmares for years. She didn’t need a broken heart on top of it. • Stepping into the bedroom, Jane looked around just in time to watch him strip off his T-shirt, baring that magnificent chest. Hot eyes met hers over that wicked grin.

  On the other hand, what’s life without a little risk?

  Baran stared into Jane’s big, dark eyes as he stripped. They got even bigger when she saw the size of his erection. She licked her lips and gave him a nervous smile. And, typically, tried to defuse the rising tension with a joke. “Why, sir, whatever are your intentions?”

  He gave his best feral smile as he pitched his jeans across the room. “Actually, I thought I’d rip your clothes off, pin you against the wall, and fuck you until you scream.”

  Jane blinked twice. “Uh, yeah. That’s what I thought,” she said, and fled into the bathroom.

  He eyed her retreating back. And grinned.

  Baran grabbed the door just before she managed to slam it in his face. Shouldering through, he purred, “Are you running from me?”

  She retreated quickly to the glass stall that took up one side of the room. “Who, me?” There was a definite squeak in her voice. Whirling, she started fumbling with a set of chrome knobs that made water shoot from a nozzle in the wall of the stall. “Why would I do that?”

  “Maybe because it’s a good idea?” He strolled over to snatch her against him, grab the hem of her T-shirt, and jerk it over her head. She hadn’t bothered with a bra that morning, and her bare breasts bobbed with the motion. Those pretty nipples were delicately erect, pink, and tender. He swooped in to sample one, sucking it into his mouth as he grabbed the waistband of her baggy trousers and started pulling them down her thighs. “I thought I told you not to wear these ugly pants again,” he growled between nibbles.

  “And I don�
�t... AH!... take fashion advice from a guy with beads in his hair. Baran!” The last word was a yelp of protest as he snatched her off her feet, one hand around her backside, the other arm circling her torso. He bent her back, nestling his erection against her velvet soft nether lips as he attacked both tight nipples in turn, licking and nibbling until she squirmed, giggling.

  “All the hot water’s going to run out!” she protested, writhing deliciously against him in a way that made his cock throb.

  “Primitive plumbing,” he growled, and stepped into the stall with her. Warm water pelted his skin as he moved to pin her to the ceramic tile wall. He settled against her, savoring her soft, yielding body, the way the silken hair over her sex caressed his hard shaft, the cushion of her tempting breasts.

  “Put me down,” she said breathlessly, giving her legs a kick of protest.

  Baran smiled down at her darkly, tightening his grip on her tender butt. “No.” She felt so damn luscious. So helpless. Perversely, he found her vulnerability made him want to both protect and ravish her at the same time. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

  A grin teased the corners of her mouth. “Apparently,” she said dryly, “not a damn thing.”

  Jane squirmed again, testing, but his powerful hold didn’t even falter as he cradled her. Held like this, feet off the ground, immobilized against the cool tile by so much muscle and heat, she felt completely at his mercy.

  And wildly aroused.

  He stared down at her, the angles of his face stark with desire, his eyes glowing, a hungry smile on his face. The shower stream bounced off his muscled body as if it were rock. And it felt like rock, too, in more ways than one. If any other man had held her like this, she’d be worried that he’d drop her, yet Baran’s grip was so strong, she felt utterly secure in his arms.

  But not at all safe.

  “Now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?” She’d intended the question to sound flirtatious, but it came out breathless.

  His slow, dark grin was not reassuring. “I thought I’d find some tight, wet entrance and force my cock into it.”

  Jane swallowed. Perversely, his dominance turned her on even as it irritated her. And she knew he knew it. “You’re really not a nice man.”

  Baran bent his head to study her nipples with predatory interest. “No.” Slowly he raked his teeth over one pink tip, sending pleasure bolting up her nerves. “But then, I don’t think you want a nice man.”

  Gasping, she let her head fall back against the wall and closed her eyes. “Not right now, no.”

  He began to pleasure her breasts in earnest, licking and sucking. He knew just how to do it, too. It was as if he could read her mind, sense when she wanted a hard, drawing pull, when she wanted a gentle scrape of his teeth, when she wanted a swirling pass of his tongue. She’d never had a lover so utterly aware of her—or so determined to use that knowledge to drive her out of her mind. Moaning helplessly, she felt herself going limp in his arms, surrendering to whatever he wanted to do.

  One of those moans became a muffled shriek as he shifted his grip and reached one hand beneath her to begin a leisurely exploration of her sex. His thumb strummed her clit as a long, strong forefinger slid deep, stroked.

  Her flesh was soaked and ready, swollen tight with need. “Mmmm,” he purred against her breast. “Now, that’s tempting.” She felt his cock jerk in lust against her belly.

  For several long, delicious moments, he played with her, his mouth busy on her breasts, his fingers delving, first one, then two, stretching and stroking. She fisted both hands in his wet hair and wrapped her thighs tighter around his hips, bucking against him, craving everything he did to her.

  He rifted his head so he could press his full length against her belly. His shaft felt long enough to reach her heart. “Ready for more?” he purred in her ear over the sound of the shower spray pounding their bodies with a pleasant sting.

  “Yes,” she whimpered. “God, yes.”

  “Good.” It was a growl, soft with sensual threat. He wrapped both hands around her backside, lifted her and settled her over the straining head of his cock. And slowly, slowly lowered her as he rolled his hips upward, impaling her by delicious increments on his thick shaft.

  “Jesus, Baran!” Jane dug her nails into his wet back and rested her head against his shoulder, gasping at the sensation of being stuffed by him, one aching inch at a time.

  He stopped. Only half of his length was inside her. She groaned and squirmed, hungry for the rest, but he held her suspended, helpless.

  “Baran, please!”

  He looked down at her, droplets beading on his long hair and high cheekbones. His smile held a taunting edge. “What do you want, Jane?”

  “More. God, more!”

  He lowered her another fraction, but not enough. Her senses clamored. She wanted to be full of him again, the way she’d been last night.

  “Is that enough?”

  “No! Oh, oh, you’ve got a sadistic streak, you know that?”

  His smile was slow and deadly. “I have heard that a time or two.”

  And he rammed in to the hilt.

  She screamed in startled delight. Skewered on his long, thick cock, she writhed in his arms, overwhelmed, trembling on the knife edge between pleasure and pain.

  “You okay?” he asked roughly.

  She clung to him, raking his broad back with her nails. “Oh, God! Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. More!”

  With a dark, tight smile, he obeyed, rolling his hips. The momentary discomfort faded with his slow, careful thrusts, teased into full pleasure.

  Panting, she rested her cheek on his shoulder and closed her eyes, concentrating on the unbelievable feeling of his body against her, inside her. The merciless pleasure was so intense, she might as well have been a virgin again.

  “More?” His voice rasped the question. She realized he was afraid of hurting her.

  Jane shuddered. “God, yeah. You feel so—“ She broke off, panting, words no match for the raw sensation.

  Reassured, he increased the pace. She realized he’d made himself just as hot as he had her. And she was burning.

  Baran gasped at Jane’s tight, slick grip, struggling to control the need to ram into her. She felt so small and delicate in his arms, even as her creamy sheathe milked his cock. He didn’t want to hurt her.

  “God, you feel so good,” she gasped in his ear. He could feel those sharp little claws of hers raking his back again, pricking him on like spurs.

  He yielded to her silent demand, pinning her against the wet wall of the shower and bracing her there so he could fuck her harder.

  As many times as he’d had sex, he knew he must have had a woman as good as Jane. He just couldn’t remember when. Her soft breasts pillowed his chest, hard nipples teasing his skin as those endless legs tightened over his butt. Her slender arms gripped him with a surprising strength, matching the demanding clasp of her hot cunt.

  “Dammit, Baran,” she gasped in his ear, “I won’t break!”

  He laughed even as his head spun. “Apparently not.”

  Letting go at last, he gave both of them exactly what they needed—long, driving strokes that ground her against the shower wall and stripped his sanity away. The pleasure coiled like a powerful spring, forced tighter with every impact of his body on hers.

  Until she convulsed in his arms, screaming out her orgasm in his ear. “Baran! Oh, God!”

  “Jane!” he roared back, and stiffened, slamming against her with one last ferocious dig that threw him right over the edge. The orgasm crashed him and out of him, exploding from his cock in jets of heat.

  Limp, they collapsed together against the wall with the shower still pelting them.

  Baran zipped his jeans, watching with possessive male interest as Jane squirmed into hers. Her pretty breasts quivered with the movement in the cups of a delicate lace bra.

  He found himself wondering again what it was about sex with her that was so m
uch hotter than anything he’d had before. It was nothing short of overwhelming, so different from the casual encounters he’d had with various Warfems and civilians over the years.

  Maybe it was her delicacy; with his strength, he had to be very careful not to hurt her. He’d never particularly enjoyed using that much restraint in the past, but with Jane, the tension seemed to add to the eroticism of taking her.

  And she was so sweetly responsive. Every time he touched her, he could feel her body arching into his touch, writhing for each caress, each stroke, each thrust. His own hypersensitive senses responded to her with just as much intensity—the taste of her skin, the scent of her arousal, the sound of her erotic moans. He smiled, knowing he could easily become addicted to sex with Jane.

  Then the smile faded. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that___

  “That’s it!” She stopped with her knit shirt halfway over her head, then jerked it the rest of the way down and grinned at him. “I’ve figured out how to explain you to everybody.”

  He lifted a brow, watching her as she hurried over to an armchair sitting in one corner.

  “Explain me?”

  “Well, I can’t exactly tell people you’re my bodyguard from the future, can I?” She bent over a small black bag sitting in the chair. The sweet curve of her butt did a very good job of distracting him, but he somehow managed to follow the conversation as she continued,

  “You’ve got to have some kind of cover story. I’ve been talking about hiring a photographer for months, but I never did anything about it. I take adequate shots myself, so I didn’t think I could justify the expense.” She opened the bag and pulled out a black object his computer identified as a camera. Reaching in again, she got out a short, cylindrical object— a lens?—and inserted it into a round opening in the device’s body. “I don’t suppose you know how to use a Nikon?”

  Baran opened his mouth to say no, but his computer interrupted. Skill file present. His brows lifted; it struck him as a fairly esoteric bit of knowledge to have. Knowing Temporal Enforcement, they probably gave him the file because they’d seen pictures he would take sometime in the future. Being TE, however, they hadn’t mentioned it.