Jordan

by Susan Kearney

  And if she didn’t follow, he was going to die. Not in his entire life had lust ever pounded him like this. It was as if some universal joker was playing cruel tricks. They were in danger. But it didn’t matter. They might die tomorrow. It didn’t matter. The crew would know exactly what they were up to. It didn’t matter.

  He had to have her now.

  He heard her first hurried steps behind him. And he began to run.

  Her matching sprint should have made him feel joyous. But he was in too much need for joy.

  Breath coming harsh in his throat, he opened the cabin door and spun around, snaked out an arm to grab her, and dragged her to him. She kicked the door shut behind her. He couldn’t wait one more second to kiss her. Thank the Universe, she lifted her head, grabbed his hair, and yanked his head down.

  Then he was tasting her. Holding her, crushing her against him.

  He had to force himself to ease back so she could breathe. “I hope to hell you want me,” he growled.

  “Like I have a choice.” She bit his neck.

  “I’ll take that for a yes.” He scooped her up and was in the process of carrying her to the bed when the Draco’s artificial gravity failed.

  They floated into midair. “Captain,” Gray said through the intercom. “We have a short. Sean says it’s going to take about an hour to fix the gravity.”

  He leaned over and hit the toggle. “Understood. Make certain the damn dog doesn’t break its neck.” He killed the intercom and eyed Vivianne.

  “Thanks for looking out for George.” She was already removing her jacket, blouse, and slacks, a task eased by the lack of gravity. Spinning slowly, she was like a tempting piece of eye candy, all pink satiny skin and feminine curves.

  Jordan knew how to make a woman feel good. He knew how to make a woman want him. He knew how to caress and stroke a woman’s body. But last time, in his hurry to have her, he’d not taken the time to worship her as he should.

  He’d taken her with a savage need. Luckily, her desire had matched his own. And once again, he was simply too charged up to take this slow. Besides, she was fierce, pushing off a bulkhead to get to him, then ripping off his shirt, attacking his pants. Eyes wild, breath panting, reddish-blond hair framing her face, she was like a hungry predator, wild and independent and so fierce that he knew she was right there with him. Feeling what he felt. Wanting what he wanted.

  “Hurry,” she demanded as she placed his hands over her breasts.

  God, she was soft. He caressed her flesh. “Better?”

  Her nipples tightened. “Much better.”

  They floated in the cabin. He tried to fight the compulsion to hurry, but she wasn’t having anything to do with slow.

  She yanked him to her, until they were face-to-face. “Fill me.”

  He tried to stroke her with gentle caresses, but she writhed with impatience.

  “Now. Damn you.” Parting her long legs, lifting her slender hips, she took him inside her.

  Thrusting into her, then pulling back, had the blood rushing through his head and roaring through his ears. The ship could have caught fire and he couldn’t have stopped. Pressure was building, growing in intensity, blinding him with need.

  He pumped, his hips grinding. She matched him stroke for stroke.

  He could feel the orgasm tensing in his balls, and from the top of his head to his toes, he craved release.

  Vivianne slapped his ass. “Faster.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Harder.”

  He grunted, his body slamming into hers as she pumped her hips to meet his. “I’m burning.”

  “Yes.” He could feel the heat. Sweat broke out on his flesh, but he never stopped moving. He couldn’t stop moving. The need was too primal.

  She raked her fingernails across his back and drew him in tighter.

  Too tight.

  They were floating in midair. Gravity no longer dictated their moves.

  “Unhook your legs,” he demanded.

  “No.”

  He stopped moving, gazed straight into her eyes. “Do it.”

  “But—”

  “Do it,” he urged. And this time she yielded. They floated prone, touching only where he was inside her. He spread his legs wide until each foot braced against a corner alcove. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders for a moment and set her into a spin.

  “Oh… my. Ah.”

  He’d never been so hard in his life. And she was spinning on him. Every time her face passed his, her breasts skimmed against his chest. A riot of sensations swelled as he viewed her from a variety of angles. Her passion-filled face, her lovely breasts, her toned legs, her tight ass.

  And those sweet sounds that came out of her mouth were like music.

  “Ah. Oh. Oh, oh, oh.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “Faster. Spin me…”

  He slapped her ass and she moaned.

  “More.”

  He slapped her again and she spun so quickly he felt as if the top of his head was going to explode.

  And when she tensed and clutched him, stopping the spin, he poured into her, the orgasm so strong that he could have sworn he saw starbursts of purple and sizzling gold.

  When he opened his eyes, Vivianne floated above him, the fringe of her lashes casting shadows on her high cheekbones. She was studying him, her face flushed, her lips bee-stung from his kisses, but her eyes were like a caged wild animal’s in full panic.

  When a single tear escaped from one of her eyes, he didn’t know what to say.

  Life is a space wreck, but we must not forget to sing in the life pods.

  —DOMINUS ADMIRAL

  7

  Vi,” Jordan drawled. “Vi, come here.” She’d been through so much. All because of him. He wanted to take away her pain but he wasn’t sure how. So he did what felt right. Reaching out, he gathered her against his chest. “It’s going to be all right.”

  One moment he was holding her, the next, another of Vi’s memories hammered Jordan, dropping into his brain as if out of regenerated air.

  “Are we there yet?” Vivianne asked her parents. Belted into the back seat of their Prius, she sat behind her father. A cardboard carton of cranberry juice with a straw sat on a tray next to a plate with sliced apples and carrots, and peanut butter for dipping.

  Headlights from the oncoming cars on the four-lane highway kept lighting up her dad’s face. “Do you need a bathroom, honey?”

  “No. I just want to smell the leaves again.”

  Her parents were taking her north to see the leaves change color. So far, the leaves had been orange and red, gold and brown. And they smelled ripe, like Mom’s garden after a hard rain.

  “Look out!” her mother screamed.

  Her father slammed on the brakes. Tires squealed.

  Vivianne’s drink flew off the tray. Her carrots and apples spilled. Then she was turning upside down, then back up. The seat belt cut into her waist and shoulder. Metal crunched. Glass broke.

  Mom screamed and screamed.

  The screaming scared Vivianne. She would have screamed, too, but her throat froze.

  Vivianne’s head hurt. Her chest ached. And she couldn’t seem to breathe. The car kept flipping. Over and over. The horn blared. The air bags popped, and Vivianne choked on the powder.

  Mom had stopped screaming, and that scared her even more.

  Vivianne didn’t open her eyes until the car stopped skidding. “Mom? Dad?”

  “Sweetie,” Mom said in a sob. She was crying. “Are you okay?”

  “What happened?” Vivianne tried to unlock her seat belt, but her fingers didn’t seem to work right.

  A car pulled up, and headlights shined through the broken windshield. Their car was tipped sideways in a ditch. “Mom, your head. You’re bleeding.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Her mother kept saying that over and over.

  Vivianne finally freed her seat belt. She put her hand on her father’s shoulder. “Dad. Mom’s hurt. She needs you
.”

  “Don’t look at Daddy, baby. Look at me.”

  Vivianne didn’t understand. Dad always helped her mom. Why wasn’t he doing something?

  “Mom?”

  Her mother reached up to the necklace Vivianne had given her for her birthday three years ago. She jerked it, snapping the chain. She loved that necklace. Wore it every day. Why would she break it?

  “I’m sorry.” Mom pressed the necklace into Vivianne’s hand. “Keep this, and remember how much we loved each other.”

  Her mother’s head slumped. Her eyes closed. With a horrible gurgle, a bubble of blood oozed from her mouth and her hand fell away from Vivianne.

  Vivianne clutched the necklace. She didn’t understand. She heard sirens. Saw blinking red lights. Strangers talking.

  “We’ll have to cut the little girl out of the back seat.”

  “The parents?”

  “Dead.”

  No. No. No. They couldn’t be dead.

  Hands reached for Vivianne. She tried to fight, reached for her parents. “Mom. Dad. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me all alone.”

  Jordan had to inhale a deep breath, tell himself that Vivianne had lost her parents a long time ago. But her pain… he didn’t want to feel her pain. He didn’t want to feel sorry for her. And he most certainly couldn’t afford to give her his sympathy. He couldn’t afford to form emotional attachments that clouded his judgment. He’d made that mistake once, befriending Trendonis, a stranger whose betrayal had cost Jordan his world.

  But how could he not feel more for her after living her pain?

  At least he’d been an adult when his parents had died. She’d been only a child.

  He had no idea how she’d grown into such a strong woman. But he wanted to know. Had relatives raised her? Had she gone to a loving home?

  And that’s when he realized there was a price to be paid for the lovemaking. Both times the Staff forced them together physically, Jordan had received another of Vivianne’s memories.

  Damn it. He couldn’t stay detached when he knew so much about her. He didn’t want to admire what she had made of her life. He didn’t want to be involved. Apparently, the Staff was determined to show him all the little details that made Vivianne so special.

  But he couldn’t let it matter.

  NOTHING WAS GOING to be all right again. Ever. As much as she told herself what they’d done was just sex, it didn’t feel like just sex. Not when he invaded her thoughts at all the wrong times. Not when she found her gaze roaming the bridge to gauge his reactions. Not when she took solace in his arms. Not with Jordan’s memories flooding Vivianne’s mind.

  A bloodied sword swung at Jordan’s head. Reacting on instinct, Jordan raised his shield to block the blow. At the same time he advanced, and, with his sword arm, counterattacked. His weapon glanced off his attacker’s chain mail but still came away bloody as part of the blade caught unprotected flesh.

  The man moaned in agony and fell to his knees. Before Jordan could finish him, two more men attacked, one from either side. Jordan shifted, parried, and sliced with lightning speed, dispatching both men, then another.

  In a matter of seconds Vivianne saw him slay half a dozen men, his arm tireless. And then he slipped. While he rolled in the mud, Vivianne caught sight of other men battling for their lives. One man in particular drew her attention, a knight, his face masked behind armor. But for a moment Vivianne could clearly see his stunning silver-colored breast plate embossed with three golden horses.

  The memory ended as suddenly as it had come to Vivianne.

  Either Jordan had told her the truth about his age, and his memories had somehow entered her mind, or someone or something was implanting false memories. And she had no idea which scenario was more likely. Both seemed impossible.

  Vivianne could deal with being lost in space. She could deal with the danger. She could even deal with the sex.

  But this total loss of control of her mind… was like losing her strength, the part of herself that she relied on most.

  How could she make good decisions when her enemy might be the one offering solace? With both of them floating, it was almost cozy and peaceful, like the quiet after a storm.

  But she shouldn’t rely on him or trust him. She had to stay on guard. That Staff was Jordan’s. For all she knew he’d programmed it to place memories in her head, to have this effect on her. No way would she admit to him that the Staff was getting into her mind.

  Jordan might control the Staff, but he didn’t control her. And she still planned to find a way to stop him from driving her ship into enemy territory.

  And while the memory of him fighting seemed so very real, she had no proof that it had happened. But how could she not look at Jordan differently on the bridge after she’d watched him fight for his life? She’d been rooting for him. And that feeling of their being on the same side remained. Could she remain impartial? Wouldn’t their intimacy and his memories influence her judgment?

  And if she couldn’t trust herself… then what?

  Just then, Jordan reached out and caressed her shoulder and back with soothing strokes. “We’ll figure this out.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, his tone husky. “But we’ll be all right.”

  The last thing she’d expected from Jordan was… tenderness. Or sympathy. Damn him for being so kind. When he was rough and tough, she kept herself together, fighting instinctively.

  But his tenderness undid her.

  Tears choking her, Vivianne swallowed down her rising panic. She forced herself to think. “The Ancient Staff is changing our hormones, right?”

  He nodded. “But I can’t turn down the power, or the Draco won’t fly.”

  “But why isn’t the Staff affecting anyone else?”

  “It’s my Staff, so it always affects me.”

  She lifted her head to peer into his glittery blue eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  “We share energy.”

  “Are you saying it’s always made you feel—”

  “No. This insatiable lust… has never happened before.”

  She sensed there was much more he wasn’t sharing, and once again frustration made her uneasy. He was answering her questions, but she suspected she wasn’t asking the right ones.

  “The Staff came from Dominus? And you had it with you when your world was destroyed?”

  “On Dominus, everyone had a Staff. When I was conceived, my parents’ Staffs united and began to grow. On my world, after a child is born, the Staff separates into three pieces, one for each parent and one for the child. We keep our Staffs by our side at all times.”

  She frowned. “But you told me that you lost it before King Arthur found the Holy Grail.”

  His tone was flat. “I was tricked. A woman named Nimue pretended she was drowning. To save her life and swim her to shore, I had to let go of the Staff. When I swam back for it, her cohort, Gareth, had stolen it. Then he took it to Trendonis.”

  He spoke without bitterness, and yet she sensed a wound so deep that it pained him to his very core.

  “You went after Trendonis?” she prodded.

  “It took me fifteen hundred years. I finally found Trendonis on Honor. He and the Tribes were using my staff to power their torture machine.”

  Fifteen hundred years. Vivianne was a master of setting long-term goals, but even she couldn’t imagine pursuing anything for so long.

  “And Trendonis, what happened to him?”

  Frustration filled his tone. “I almost caught him on Honor, but he fled. But I have sworn before the Goddess to stop the man who destroyed my world.”

  Trendonis had lived at least as long as Jordan. “Are the Tribes immortal?”

  “No. They can be killed in battle—or they could be before they possessed the Grail.”

  “But if the Tribes already have the Grail,” she asked, “how can we win?”

  “We steal it back. Once we possess the Grail and drink from it,
then no matter how severe our wounds, we will not die in battle.”

  “Being immortal might be the most powerful defense of all time.”

  “Exactly.” Jordan turned onto his side, his face serious and glum, but he kept his hand in hers. “When a soldier of Earth risks his life of only a hundred years and dies, the loss isn’t as great as a soldier of the Tribes who might otherwise live for thousands of years.”

  “I could easily argue that when a life is short, each day is more precious,” she countered, wondering why she couldn’t find the strength to pull away from the small circles his thumb was making on her wrist.

  “Perhaps.” When he caught her watching him stroke her wrist, he jerked. Almost as if he’d been unconsciously caressing her, then had realized what he’d been doing, he pulled away. “But despite their warlike and dominating natures, the Tribes have difficulty recruiting soldiers. That’s why when a planet doesn’t fall easily to their domination, they destroy it.”

  “If Trendonis now possesses the Holy Grail, he can promise his soldiers that they won’t die of battle wounds.”

  Jordan added, “And their ranks will swell with recruits.”

  “How well do you know Trendonis?” she asked.

  “He’s fearless. And evil.”

  “Did he ever wear armor with a coat of arms bearing three horses?”

  Jordan’s eyes pierced hers. “That was King Arthur Pendragon’s coat of arms. Why did you ask?”

  “While reading about medieval history, I’ve read references to the three horses.”

  “Three horses was definitely Arthur’s coat of arms.”

  If Jordan knew King Arthur’s coat of arms, then he could have lived in that time as he’d claimed. But he also could have read up on King Arthur.

  Still, he could turn himself into an owl, and possessed a Staff that powered the Draco, so if his knowledge was accurate, it was another clue that lent credence to his story. Vivianne would check the computer the first chance she had to see if she could verify his statement. “So Trendonis is still alive?”

  “I’ll destroy him.” Jordan spoke in the same flat tone, and yet his eyes darkened to a turbulent deep blue.