by Joanna Wylde
She was panting and gasping now and he knew her orgasm must be close. The thought of her beneath him, helpless, surged through him like the sweetest of wines. He could taste her need, thrust into her to emphasize that only he could provide her with this. The thought of her approaching another man flitted through his head. No. He wouldn’t let himself think of that. She was his, all his, and he was marking her.
She would never forget who she belonged to.
He thrust deeper, feeling the bed sway beneath them as they moved. She whimpered something at him, her voice needy. He couldn’t understand what she was saying. The blood was pounding too hard in his ears and slowing down was not an option. Each thrust brought him that much closer to the achingly beautiful conclusion they both needed. He had to go harder, faster. He had to hold on and not give in to the desire to explode. They were going to come together, or not at all. He wouldn’t give her a choice about that.
A sudden, sharp pain broke through his thoughts, and he realized that she had scratched his back. Her fingernails tore through his skin, each one clawing a trail of fire through him. It helped him focus. He reached down to pull her hips more firmly under his and she gave a little scream.
Time to finish it.
He pulled one hand free and pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing it back and forth as he breached her. She gasped, and a fine sheen of perspiration broke out across her face. He could feel her muscles stiffening, could see her pulling air deep into her chest. It was only a matter of seconds now. He gave one last mighty thrust, working her clit with his thumb, and watched her face intently. Her head flung back as she came with a scream. Her internal muscles gripped him tightly, and he gasped. He wanted to watch her, take her pleasure into himself, but it was too late. His own orgasm was upon him, his body had taken over and making the decisions now. He could feel the pressure and tension explode out his cock as waves of pleasure shot through his body, radiating out from his pelvis. It was spectacular, better than he could have dreamed.
Was every time with her going to be like this? A new high, a new kind of sexual ecstasy? If so, he may very well die with the next few weeks, he thought wryly. One man’s body was not designed for this kind of stress…
* * * * *
Jess stole through the corridors of the station, taking care to attract as little notice as possible. It wasn’t hard; it was the middle of the sleep cycle and this was a quiet area.
It was amazing to him how things had changed, and yet stayed the same. He had lived in these halls all of his life, yet everything was different now. Their Saurellian overlords had been active during their brief tenure. The port was still wild and full, but there seemed to be more order in the rest of the station. There were certainly more guardsmen. There were also more public receptacles for trash, and much less graffiti.
The Saurellians, apparently, preferred their spacestations to be clean.
Another major difference was the public notices calling on station residents to register to vote. He had no idea what they would be voting on; he couldn’t even imagine doing so. Never, in his entire life, had there been a vote on the station about anything. Strangely enough, the few businesses owned by Pilgrims appeared to be shut down. Was Jenner’s disappearance connected, he wondered?
He was near the hostel where he had grown up now, and it was hard to remember caution. He felt far too comfortable here, yet was far more dangerous for him outside the port. There, the population was transient. Now he found himself among people who might very well recognize him and report him as an escaped slave. Under Imperial rule that would have resulted in his death; the Goddess alone knew what the Saurellians might do to him.
If anything happened, Bethany would be all right, he reminded himself. He had registered her as owner of their new ship. The hostel owner had instructions to check on her if Jess didn’t return. She’d be all right; there was more than enough money for her to survive.
He’d come too far to be caught now, though. He was going to free Calla and get out of this hellhole once and for all.
Finally, he reached his goal—the long, narrow passageway. There was a vent at the end that would lead to the storeroom in Jenner’s hostel. He and Calla had discovered the secret route as children. They’d always assumed that Jenner had created it in a bout of paranoia, something common enough among Pilgrims. After all, they tended to hoard supplies and tried to always have at least one escape route. Now he would use it to steal Calla right out from under the noses of her masters.
Moving quietly, he opened the vent and started crawling down the shaft. Every inch of it felt familiar to him. He’d used it a thousand times to sneak out of the hostel. As a child, he would go down to the port and follow the traders around, copying their speech and asking questions about foreign worlds. He could have escaped long ago, if Calla hadn’t been so afraid.
As a young man, he had discovered the joys to be found among the women of the port. He was handsome and strong—even the women of the most expensive pleasure houses had welcomed him to their beds. More than one had offered to buy him his freedom.
Once again, he had stayed because of Calla. His stomach turned as he realized how foolish they had been; Calla had been fearful, terrified that they would be caught and killed. He realized now that death was far from the worst fate a slave could suffer.
Moving through the passage, he counted down the vents until he reached the one that opened on the hostel. With a flash of triumph, he discovered it was still loose. The vent cover was supposed to be firmly welded directly to the station, making it impossible for a man without sophisticated tools to open it. The welds on this one had been broken for decades, but he had been half afraid the Saurellians would have noticed and fixed it.
Keeping quiet, he pushed the grill open and lowered it to the floor. He slithered out of the vent into the room. Dank and dusty as ever, he thought with satisfaction. Nobody was coming in and out of here regularly.
He crept across the floor and listened carefully at the door. Outside was silence. Unless things had changed significantly, everyone would have been asleep for hours. Calla would be in the kitchen, her pallet laid out with those of the other women. For the first time he realized Calla might not be the only slave who wanted to leave. His gut twisted. It would endanger them all if he brought too many back with him to the ship, but he didn’t have a choice. If his fellow slaves wanted to leave, he would help them.
It was the only right thing to do.
Walking down the hall, he looked carefully at each door, trying to determine if anyone was awake. Jenner’s office was open, although there was no light inside. He’d never seen it left open like that before; she really was gone. It was hard to imagine in some ways. Jenner had always seemed like a force of nature to him, immovable and certainly unstoppable. Yet she had left for the first time in years. Was it really a business trip, or had the Saurellians frightened her that much?
He kept moving until he reached the kitchen. Fortunately, Calla always slept closest to the door because she had to go to the fresher at least once every night. He’d teased her about it mercilessly as a teenager. He eased the door open, eyes searching the dimly lit room. Things were different, he realized. Most of his life there had been four or five women who slept here, all slaves. Now there was only one. Calla? No, whoever this was, she was smaller than Calla.
Her body was completely covered by the blanket, a nicer one than he’d remembered having when he’d lived with Jenner. What had happened, where was everyone? And how was he going to find his sister?
He would have to wake the woman up and ask. It was likely that he knew her. He doubted that Jenner would have bought another slave so quickly; the old bitch was notoriously tight with her cash. He walked carefully over to the sleeping woman and knelt silently beside her. Her hair was a soft gold, familiar to him it. It was Hari, the kitchen girl. They had been slaves together for more than a decade. She would never betray him, he thought in relief.
He touche
d her shoulder softly, shaking her and whispering her name.
“Hari, wake up,” he said. She muttered something, and tried to roll over. He had to hold in a laugh. Some things never changed. Hari had always been the last one up in the morning, and grumpy for hours afterwards.
“Wake up,” he repeated, and she opened her eyes.
“What is it?” she asked sleepily, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “I’m sleeping. Jess, is that you?”
She sat bolt upright, looking at him with wide eyes.
“Yes,” he replied, unable to keep from smiling at her. She seemed so young. They were nearly the same age, but now he felt like he was centuries older. Life had been so easy here, he thought longingly. He hadn’t known what suffering was…
“What are you doing here? We all thought you would be dead by now!” She gasped, flinging herself into his arms. “Oh, I can’t believe this. We have to go tell the others that you’re alive.”
“Shhhh,” he said. “No, we have to be quiet. I can’t be caught here.”
“No, everything has changed!” she said. “Oh, Jess, you’re safe here now. Jenner’s gone.”
“I know,” he said. “But that hardly makes us safe, Hari.”
“Oh, no, it does!” she said. “We’re free now, Jess! All of us! The Saurellians wanted to keep using the hostel but they didn’t want to manage it, so they turned it over to us and we’re running it for them now. It’s wonderful.”
He shook his head, unable to understand what she was saying. The Saurellians had freed Jenner’s slaves?
“Where’s Calla?” he asked. Her face changed abruptly, and she looked away.
“I think we should wake Karin up,” she said suddenly, referring to the head cook. Jess narrowed his eyes.
“No, I want to hear where Calla is,” he said, gripping her shoulders firmly. She tried to turn away from him, and he shook her shoulders roughly. She whimpered. “Where is Calla?”
“Jess, she’s dead,” Hari said quietly. Jess suddenly felt dizzy, and shook his head.
“What did you say?” he demanded.
“She’s dead, Jess,” Hari whispered miserably. “It happened right after Jenner sold you to the miners. She disappeared that night, and a few weeks later they found her tracking implant in the recycling plant.”
Jess shook his head, unwilling to believe what she was telling him. Calla couldn’t be dead. She was a sister, his other half. He had overcome incredible odds to rescue her. What Hari was telling him was impossible. He refused to accept it.
“Jess, I’m so sorry,” Hari said miserably. “We never did figure out what happened. We thought maybe she tried to escape, and got picked up by somebody down at the port. You know what can happen to a woman alone down there.”
Jess tried not to listen to her, but reality was sinking in against his will. He was all too aware of what could happen to a woman alone. Or a even a man alone, if he didn’t know what he was about. There were certain areas of the port where predators lurked. They were the very same kinds of places that might attract a young woman trying to escape her owner, he thought desperately.
It wasn’t uncommon to find bodies in the station’s recycling pits, either. Or rather, parts of bodies. Her tracking implant was probably the only part of Calla that still existed, he thought numbly. Why hadn’t he forced her to go with him, to escape while they had a chance? He could have saved her, if only he’d been stronger!
He knew it was a question he would ask himself for the rest of his life.
“I have to go,” he said abruptly, unwilling to look at Hari. She had been part of his life here. That life was all over now. All over except for one thing. He still owed Mistress Jenner, wherever she was, a visit.
* * * * *
Bethany had long since given up trying to sleep on the floor in the fresher. He had left her several blankets and a pillow, but all she could think about was Jess, creeping through the station. He was going to find his sister, but what if someone stopped him? Would they realize he was an escapee? What would happen to him, and what would happen to her? There was a cold ball of icy blue fire in her belly. No matter how many times she told herself everything was going to be fine, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
Something was going to go terribly wrong. She just knew it.
She had no way of measuring the time, but it seemed like hours had passed before she heard noises in the outer room. She listened carefully. One set of footsteps, and no feminine voice. If it was Jess, he didn’t have Calla with him. Or maybe someone else had gotten into their room?
A moment later the fresher door opened. She stared up at the man in the doorway, unable to see his face in the darkness.
“Jess, is that you?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice sounding harsh. Something was terribly wrong; there was no other explanation.
“Where is Calla?” she asked, afraid to hear the answer. He turned away from the fresher and walked back toward the bed. She stood shakily and followed him.
“Calla is dead,” he said harshly. “I don’t want you to mention her name again.”
“But what—” she started to ask, but he cut her off.
“Be quiet,” he said coldly. “We’ll leave in the morning. You’d better get some sleep.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“I don’t’ need any sleep,” he said tightly. “I need to think.”
“All right,” she whispered. She crossed the room and slid into the bed, watching him as closely as she could in the darkness. He took a seat in a chair, leaning it back against the wall and putting his feet up. Silence stretched between them, a tangible thing that seemed unbearably painful to her. He was so alone; every part of her ached to comfort him, to pull him into her arms and soothe his pain.
He wasn’t going to allow that, she knew already. He didn’t want to admit how much he was hurting. In the darkness, she could hear his breathing. It grew rough, as if he were running, and then it caught. He cleared this throat noisily, turning his head away from her.
He was crying, she realized. Crying for his sister.
Her heart ached, but she kept still. He would never want anyone to witness such weakness. Not for one moment could he concede that he was anything less than hard and tough, a man who could handle any obstacle. If only he understood that he didn’t need to be alone, she thought sadly.
Of course, he couldn’t even figure out that he didn’t need to lock her up to keep her, she thought with dark humor. Yet she couldn’t imagine leaving him. He had become everything to her, and he didn’t even realize it.
* * * * *
Bethany had just fallen asleep when the entire room shuddered, rolling her halfway across the bed. Loud sirens filled the air, and an emergency light started strobing.
“What’s going on?” she gasped, sitting up in the bed. It was the most horrifying racket she’d ever heard. The light wasn’t helping. Everything seemed surreal, jerky.
Jess was already on his feet, moving toward her and pulling her into his arms.
“There’s been a hull breach,” he said, voice strained. He ran his hands over her body, checking her for injuries. “The station is under attack.”
Chapter Thirteen
The words “hull breach” struck a fear into her heart. A child of the mining belt, she knew that nothing was more dangerous that a breach. Within seconds, all the air on a station could be sucked out into the cold night of the vacuum. They were going to die. She shivered, and he stroked her hair.
“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice soothing. “It’s going to be all right. We’re safe in here. As soon as we were hit, every door on this station locked tight. We’ve got plenty of back-up air sources, and we’ll be fine.”
“Who do you think did it?” she whispered. “Why would they attack the station?”
“I don’t know, I suppose it could be the Empire,” Jess said. “But don’t worry—this station is far too valuable for them to
destroy it. And the Saurellians have it well defended. We’re going to be fine.”
She started to ask him something else, but she was cut off as a cool, smooth woman’s voice came over the intercom into their room.
“Can I have your attention, please,” the voice said. “This is the Discovery Station Emergency Protocol System. Discovery Station had been attacked by a small ship and a minor hull breach has occurred. The breach is located in Sector 8, levels 2-4. Please remain calm as station personnel repair this breach. Further instructions will follow as needed.”
The voice stopped, although the lights continued to flash.
“Has this ever happened before?” she asked quietly, settling against him. Her heart was still pounding rapidly, and so was his. Yet she could feel the quiet strength in his arms, the warmth of his body, and her initial panic was dying down.
“Sure,” he said. “I can think of two or three times that this happened as I was growing up. It must not be anything too serious or they would have given specialized evacuation instructions to the people in those sectors. The breach is small, and it’s in a storage area. With any luck nobody was hurt.”
“What could have caused it?” she asked.
“Well, a small ship could have crashed into the station. Or perhaps a missile of some kind, although if it were an attack, I’d think that they would notify us.”
The voice crackled into the room again.
“May I have your attention, please,” it said. “The hull breach has been sealed and the state of emergency has been downgraded to a state of alert. The station is now secure. The Station Commander has directed all civilian personnel to remain in their quarters until further notice. If there is a medical emergency, please contact your sector captain for assistance. A listing of sector captains is available on all public and private information terminals by pressing zero. I repeat, all civilian personnel are to remain in their quarters until further notice.”