Brother Blues_Stepbrother MC Biker Romance

by Terri Lane

  “I was worried,” he said simply, looking completely unconcerned.

  Polina frowned, but Galen put one hand on her arm to keep her quiet.

  “Sorry to worry you, Arr,” Galen said softly, joining his friend at the fire. “We found an abandoned IA bunker. It had some beds, some rations. We wanted to explore it thoroughly before heading back.”

  Polina noticed that Galen did not say anything about what they’d done after they’d searched the bunker.

  “I see,” Arryn replied, then fell back into silence as he gazed into the flames.

  “How did you make a fire?” Polina asked politely, testing the waters between herself and Arryn.

  He looked up at her and a very human-like smile flickered over his finely sculpted features. “There was an emergency kit in the shuttle under one of the jump seats,” he admitted. “It had one fire kit and a few emergency blankets.”

  Galen’s face lit up. “Great! This will be okay for tonight, and maybe tomorrow, we’ll move into the bunker—”

  “Tomorrow?” Polina paled. She’d forgotten that Galen had estimated a one or two-day repair job.

  “I’ll get us out of here as fast as I can, Polina,” Galen replied, looking sorry. “But it’s definitely going to take me a couple of days. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Arryn added, unnecessarily. “Would you like some water?”

  He held out a small canteen in Polina’s direction. She looked up at him and back at the canteen. It was a very kind gesture, even if his face remained stoic and flat as he made it.

  “Thank you,” Polina said, finally. She took a swig of the water. It was clean and clear, with just a hint of purifying chemicals that the IA put in all their liquids.

  “Hey, look at this!” Galen crowed. “We’re all getting along! See, all we need to do to bring peace across the galaxy is to crash land a bunch of diplomats on a desolate moon and force them to get along. It’s genius!”

  “If you ever run for IA president, Galen,” Polina joked. “You have my vote.”

  “Really?” Arryn’s eyes widened just the smallest bit and his gold markings swirled around his eyes. “You would vote for Galen as president of the IA?”

  Polina sighed. “No, not really. It was a joke, Arryn.”

  Arryn frowned, then tried on his human smile again. “That’s funny,” he stated.

  “You know what’s funny?” Galen chimed in. “It’s funny how we’re all gonna starve to death waiting for Polina to pull the damned dinners out of her pockets so we can eat.”

  “Oh!” Polina gasped, and fished in the cargo pockets of her flight suit to retrieve the packets of dried ration packs.

  The small group huddled around the fire, carefully chewing their rations and washing the dry bites down with bits of water from the canteens Arryn had found in the shuttle.

  By the time they’d finished, darkness had fallen over the moon and the three of them huddled together over the small fire in companionable silence.

  “So,” Polina began, stifling a yawn. “How did you two meet? Seems weird for a Dardassyian to be running around with an Artarian.”

  “It’s not that weird,” Galen answered, sliding down until he was lying flat on his back on the red sand ground. “My father was an ambassador—just an Artarian ambassador, I mean. This was before the IA—and he was always travelling to Dardassyius. I usually came along for the ride and that’s how I met Arryn.”

  “My father is the prime minister,” Arryn added. Polina wasn’t sure, but she thought she detected a hint of emotion in the alien’s normally stoic voice. “He had a very good relationship with Galen’s father, therefore, I had a good relationship with Galen.”

  Galen laughed. “He makes it sound like a business deal. Basically, our fathers got together and conducted interplanetary business while the two of us ran rampant through the palace on Dardassyius.”

  A hint of smile played at the corner of Arryn’s lips. A real smile, Polina thought, not his impression of a human girl.

  “Once, my tutor caught us trying to fly one of the patrol crafts,” Arryn said. “He was so angry, I thought his markings would fly off his face.”

  “His markings?” Polina blurted without thinking. Galen had told her all about them in the bunker. The markings were how Dardassyians displayed their emotions. She had no doubt that, if she were to look at Arryn in that instant, his markings would be screaming annoyance.

  Strangely enough, there was no anger or frustration in Arryn’s response, not even a little, as he told Polina what she already knew. About the way Dardassyians used their markings to subtly convey emotions.

  “How are you feeling now?” Polina ventured.

  Arryn shrugged in the firelight. “Memories of my childhood with Galen are pleasant, so, I suppose I would say I’m feeling content.”

  Polina squinted across the fire as the lines and symbols on Arryn’s face. They were soft now, no harsh angles or edges. The gold designs did look peaceful and content in the flickering glow of the fire.

  “Oh, hey,” Galen’s sat up suddenly. “I want to show you something, Arryn.”

  He rustled through his pockets and pulled out the portable cam, the one he’d used to take some snaps in the bunker. “Check these out,” Galen said, showing the viewscreen of the cam to Arryn. “Look familiar?”

  Arryn’s markings sprung into a pattern of short, sharp lines as his eyes widened. “Those are Dardassyian glyphs,” he whispered. “Where did you find those?”

  “In the bunker,” Galen told him, his voice low. “On this moon.”

  “Here?” Arryn’s eyebrows shot up and his markings scattered to the edges of his hairline. “But I thought you said you found an IA bunker—”

  “We did.”

  “Then how are there Dardassyian glyphs in an IA bunker,” Arryn muttered. “We’ve never colonized with the IA. Never.”

  Galen reached one hand over and set it gently on his friend’s arm, squeezing it lightly. “I know, buddy. I know.”

  Polina watched them, suddenly guilty about the time she’d spent in the bunker with Galen, the way they touched each other. She felt like an interloper, an unwanted presence upsetting the delicate balance of this friendship.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Galen repeated, then glanced up and smiled at Polina. “All three of us. We’ll figure it out.”

  ***

  Galen was up before dawn, opening panels on the shuttle and fiddling with wires.

  “Well, the hyper-speed is shot,” he announced, when Polina and Arryn staggered, bleary-eyed, out of the shuttle’s passenger bay.

  Sleeping arrangements had been a challenge in the small confines of the taxi shuttle. They’d managed to pull the cushions off of the jump seats and make a small nest out of those and the emergency blankets Arryn had found in the survival kits. It had still been an uncomfortable night, as Polina found herself wedged between the two males, each insisting that she sleep between them so they could keep her warm. She’d wanted to argue that she was an independent female who could keep herself warm at night, but that wasn’t entirely the case. The surface of the moon was frigid at night and Polina was grateful for the warmth of the two large male bodies surrounding her.

  Not that she’d ever admit it to either of them.

  While she enjoyed the warmth, she was uncomfortably aware of the closeness of Galen’s sleeping body, a body she’d pleasurably explored only hours earlier in the bunker. Galen’s touch had awakened something dormant inside her, and she found herself wanting more of the Artarian. Of course, that desire was highly inappropriate when sleeping wedged between Galen and his best friend, so Polina spent the night trying to purge unseemly thoughts from her mind and make sure her hands weren’t roaming to places that they oughtn’t.

  It had been an exhausting night.

  “What?” Arryn asked, his voice thick with sleep.

  “The hyper-speed,” Galen repeated, speaking unnecessarily slowly and loudly, as if Polina an
d Arryn were particularly slow children. “It’s broken.”

  “What’s to be done?” Polina asked, keeping her voice steady. She was already in trouble for being off-planet without leave. If this fix took more than a few days, she could be facing some severe consequences.

  “I can fix it,” Galen replied confidently. “We’ll get back into orbit, but we won’t be travelling anywhere fast for a while.”

  “Dardassyius is close,” Arryn offered. “We could limp home and put Polina on a fully-functional ship back home.”

  “A Dardassyian ship?” Polina was fully awake now. “I couldn’t show up back at IA headquarters in a—”

  Galen waved her off. “I know, Junior Ambassador,” he snapped. “I know. Just give it time, okay? We’ll think of something.”

  Arryn put one arm lightly around her shoulders and led her away from the wrecked ship. “It’s better to leave him alone when he’s like this,” he told her. “Galen can be a bit cranky when he’s trying to fiddle with engine systems.”

  “Thank you,” Polina replied. She looked over at Arryn to say more, but the words caught in her throat. The morning sun illuminated the Dardassyian and, in the sparkling rays of the sunrise, he was beautiful. The light danced down his profile, gilding the perfect edge of his high forehead, stern brow, finely shaped nose and delicate lips. The golden embossing of his markings reflected the sun’s light, making them even more golden in exchange.

  Polina bit her lip as Arryn turned to face her. His blue eyes were soft and kind this morning. She wondered if the expression was sincere.

  “Will you show me this bunker?” Arryn asked her softly. Behind them, Galen banged at the ship’s hyper-speed console and spewed a stream of curses that would have been illegal on most planets.

  “Of course,” Polina said, glancing back at Galen. A twist of guilt tugged at her stomach, but she tried to push it away. What had happened between her and Galen was pleasant, but it wasn’t anything serious. There was no agreement between them. She shouldn’t feel guilty about her pang of attraction for his friend.

  Arryn loped back to the ship, spoke to Galen for a brief moment, then quickly returned to Polina. “He said to be sure and bring a flashbeam,” Arryn told her, patting a bulge in the hip pocket of his brown flight suit.

  They set off across the barren red surface of the moon, in the direction of the bunker. The wind was blowing harder than it had yesterday, and Polina’s hair whipped around her face. Her plaits had come out while she slept, and now her brown hair was wild in the brutal wind.

  “It’s that way,” she shouted to Arryn. The tawny skinned alien just nodded and gestured for her to keep going.

  By the time they reached the hatch, a storm was brewing around them. Like the previous day, the wind had picked up and storm clouds had thickened, but this storm was growing worse by the second. Polina had to scream to make herself heard.

  “We need to get inside,” she shouted to Arryn, who simply nodded.

  It took all of their combined strength to lift the hatch against the buffeting of the wind and, when they finally slipped inside, they were both breathless and exhausted.

  “This is it,” Polina panted, gesturing into the blackness of the bunker.

  “Where are the shelves?” Arryn asked, his voice a low whisper.

  Polina led him through the simple layout of the bunker. She intended to head straight for the shelves in the storeroom, but Arryn kept shining the flashbeam at other things—the walls, the bunkbeds, the tables. Every item in the bunker bore evidence of Dardassyian glyphs.

  “My people have been here,” Arryn wondered, as he knelt down to inspect the shelves in the storage area. “Everywhere I look, I can see signs of them. The glyphs, they tell a story.”

  Polina was breathless with wonder. “What do they say?” she asked, leaning closer.

  “Look,” Arryn grabbed her hand and traced her finger along a set of glyphs. “These here? These tell a story of hope and optimism.”

  “They do?” Polina felt only vague shapes under her finger.

  “They do,” Arryn confirmed. “But, come here, look—”

  He pulled her back through the bunker into the dormitory. “This set of glyphs? Right here?” He drew her hand along the edge of a bunk. “These speak of frustration and loneliness. And the ones that we saw when we first came in? In that first room?”

  Polina nodded, afraid of what she would hear.

  Arryn stood stock still as he continued. “Those spoke of fear. Anguish. Despair. This is not a happy place, Polina.”

  He turned to her then, and she could barely make out of the shape of his golden markings in the dim light of the flashbeam. The markings were subdued, down-turned, wilting. Polina understood. Arryn was sad.

  “What can I do?” she asked, feeling powerless in the face of grief.

  He stared at her, lovely features frozen in a calm mask as his golden marking danced around his eyes. “Hold me,” he said simply.

  She did.

  Polina wrapped her small arms around him and pressed her face into his chest, surprised at the hot tears that poured down her face. She supposed that she would need to do the crying for both of them in this situation.

  “Do you want to leave?” she asked, tracing her fingertips along his broad back.

  Arryn shook his head. “We can’t leave, the storm is worse now.”

  Polina listened. She could barely hear anything inside the snug bunker. “Are you sure?”

  Arryn nodded, his chin rustling against the top of her head. “I can hear it. The wind is screaming right now, Polina.”

  “What do we do?” she asked.

  “We wait.”

  There was a sudden click and the bunker went dark.

  “I thought we might want to conserve power on the flashbeam,” Arryn said. “In case the storm lasts until nightfall.”

  Polina shuddered. “Do you really think it could last that long?”

  Arryn’s arms tightened around her. “It could,” he replied. “It could.”

  The stood there like that—holding one another, the tip of Arryn’s chin resting on Polina’s head—for what seemed like an eternity.

  “Arryn?” Polina asked, interrupting the distant howling of the wind. “Why were you staring at me when we met yesterday?”

  Arryn paused, his body tensing. “Why were you staring at me?”

  “That’s not fair, I asked you first,” Polina grumbled.

  “Galen always says that the best way of getting out of a question you don’t wish to answer is by simply asking another questions,” Arryn said.

  “You don’t want to answer my question?”

  “No.”

  Polina was puzzled. “Why not?”

  “Because it might be uncomfortable, Polina,” Arryn said.

  “I can handle a little discomfort,” she replied. “But I can’t handle not knowing. You’re confusing, Arryn. You’re confusing and I just want to understand you better. Why were you staring?”

  This time, Arryn did not hesitate. “Because you were beautiful.”

  Polina pulled back in shock and regretted it instantly, as she lost Arryn in the darkness. “Shit,” she muttered, stretching her hands out to find him again. “Where did you go?”

  “I’m here,” Arryn said, his voice coming from behind her now. His arms wrapped around her from behind, anchoring her in space once again. “I’m here,” he repeated.

  “Did you really think I was beautiful?” Polina asked, dropping her head back against the solid wall of Arryn’s broad chest.

  “No,” he said softly, his breath ghosting over the top of her head.

  “No?” Polina was shocked. Arryn didn’t seem like the type to tell a lie, especially one as cruel as this.

  “No,” he repeated. “You just phrased your statement in the past tense. It’s not true that I thought you were beautiful, Polina, I still think you’re beautiful.”

  Polina wheeled around, without thinking, and searc
hed for Arryn’s face in the blackness of the underground room. She found it and let her hands gently rest on the curve of his strong jaw. “Arryn, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” she gushed, emboldened by the intimate anonymity of the pitch-black room.

  Standing on her tiptoes, Polina pressed her lips against Arryn’s soft mouth. At first, she encountered only coldness, resistance. But she remembered everything she’d learned about Arryn, about Dardassyians in general, in the last day or so. They weren’t great at expressing feelings.

  “Do you like that?” she ventured cautiously.

  Arryn’s response was immediate. “Yes,” he said, his voice strangely tight. “Please do that again.”

  Polina did. And this time she did not stop, pressing into Arryn’s mouth with her eager tongue. It took him several moments to warm to her, then he greeted her enthusiastically, sliding his own tongue against hers, encouraging her, urging her on.

  She pressed the frontline of her body against his, trying to gain as much contact with him as she could, convince herself that this was real. Arryn was firm against her, solid and strong. Polina ran one hand down the length of his jaw, then let her hand trace downward over his chest, over the taut line of his stomach, pausing just at his hip.

  Polina hesitated, unsure how to proceed with the reserved Dardassyian. Arryn solved her dilemma for her, grabbing her wrist and sliding it down between his legs, without ever breaking their fervent kiss.

  “Oh,” Polina gasped, as her hand settled over the enormous bulge in the crotch of Arryn’s flight suit.

  He pulled back and, although Polina could not see him, she could feel him gazing down toward her. “Is my anatomy problematic?” he asked, his golden voice thick with concern.

  “Is your—?” Polina did not understand the question.

  “I was under the impression that Dardassyians and Earthlings shared the same reproductive organs—”

  “We do!” Polina practically shouted. “We definitely do.”

  “Then why did you gasp?” Arryn asked.

  Polina sighed. “It’s just that you—you’re big.”