“Looking at your tattoos. They’re…”
She wanted to say beautiful, but she wasn’t sure how he’d take that. Does any man want to hear his tattoos are beautiful? She couldn’t think of a different word, though.
Before he could protest, she pushed up so she could kiss him. “I think they’re beautiful.”
She shifted to lie pressed up against his side. Reaching over, she picked up his hand and brought his knuckles to her lips to kiss each one.
Looking into his green-gold eyes, she smiled. "Why do you and all of your men have similar tattoos? I know they're not exactly the same. I can see the difference in the patterns."
He shifted and nestled her closer into his side before clenching his fist and angling it, so she could see the design across his knuckles. Red and black, the pattern traced across his first two knuckles, then flowed almost to his wrist where it disappeared into other swirls.
“This is my rank,” he explained, his deep voice low. “I’m a Lead, which means Lead Warrior. There’s only one rank higher in my people…Warlord. One day I’ll get there.”
He turned his arm so she could see the back. The heavy loops and swirls, red around black, covered his skin. “These are all the battles I’ve been in.”
He touched the inside of his arm. “And this is my lineage, back ten generations.” His finger traced up the smaller loops, skipping over some areas of the design that looked as though they’d been scrubbed out, tattooed over roughly to obliterate what lay beneath.
Her gaze followed his fingers over all of the marks on his skin. It surprised her that they seemed to be a language rather than just designs. She noticed the way he traced most of the tattoos until he reached the one on his inner arm. He purposely avoided it; his voice hadn’t changed, but she could sense a slight change in him.
She’d never been good at keeping her mouth shut when she wanted to know something and this was no different. She did, however, try to keep her words soft. “What happened here?”
Her fingers slid over the area on his arm. She didn’t pull it closer to look at, but left her palm over the spot. She searched his eyes for an answer, hers filled with everything she felt for him. She had nothing but love in her heart for Roz. If he hurt, his pain was hers as well.
His full lips compressed, she saw the battle he fought reflected in his eyes. Finally, he sighed. “You’re human, right?”
When she nodded, he carried on. “Right. Our families work differently. When we’re born, our parents are normally from different clans…families to you. We take the name of whichever parent is higher ranked. My mom was a Kelat class…so I was born into her clan. Then my mom died, the big war on my planet ended and my clan disowned me. I have no lineage on that side anymore.”
She knew what it was like to not have a mother around, though it sounded as if he’d lost his earlier than she’d lost hers. What troubled her was his family, his clan, had disowned him. Even though he said they worked differently, anger stirred inside her at how he had been treated. Taking a breath to steady herself some, she tried to find out why they would do something like that.
“Why did they disown you? That’s a pretty shitty thing to do.” Damn it. Her anger had a foothold and she needed to stomp on it before it got loose. “I thought…well, where I’m from at least, families stick together.”
She had reached over to take his hand again, her fingers laced through his.
He squeezed once and covered his eyes with a slow sweep of lashes so long it was unfair. When he looked back at her, the hard mask was in place again. He shrugged. “They didn’t like the fact I take after my father.”
Her eyes dropped to his chest. She fell quiet for a moment, a little stung at how he closed himself off from her. No, closed off wasn’t right. Guarded. She’d seen that look on his face before…and on her own as well, in the mirror when she told herself the things that had happened to her didn’t matter. Over and over again she’d repeated the words until even she almost believed the lie.
Still, this was worse. His own family had done this to him. No. They weren’t his family anymore.
She felt as if she had lost her balance and now floundered at her own stupidity for pushing him too far. She should have kept her big mouth shut. She felt the tension that had crept into his body, and a tiny part of her hoped because of it he wouldn’t notice she’d tensed as well.
She couldn’t make the universe right for every person she came across, but she wished, more than anything, she could take back her careless words. Putting a smile on her face she didn’t feel, she tried to find something good to focus on. Even if it were something small, she needed to repair the damage she had caused. For the first time, she looked at him with a touch of shyness.
“Your father must be absolutely amazing if you’re anything like him. Though I don’t know if my opinion counts. I’m a little biased when it comes to you.”
She laid her head against his chest, the only retreat that was open to her. His big hand drove gently into her hair, pulling until she had to look up at him.
“He is, but not as amazing as you.” His voice was soft as he pulled her up to claim her lips again.
Chapter Six
Flipping her hair back over her shoulder, Summer finished with the blow dryer. The hot water from the shower had worked wonders on the muscles she hadn’t been aware of before she’d met Roz. Somehow working out in the ship’s gym and her long runs around the decks just didn’t make her twist and bend the same way.
Thinking about her flexibility over the past three days, she twisted around again to stare at her lower back in the mirror. Spread across the entire small of her back were the beautiful scrolls and curls of the Sargosian language. In the center of the design—Roz’s name.
Funny, she’d had no idea he was so artistic. Everything about him surprised her. He had surrounded his name with extra swirls, dots and designs, but what really melted her heart were the wings he’d drawn from the sides of his name. Wings. She smiled again. He really was her angel.
The design she had put around her name on his chest was large, but not as big as the one across her lower back. It took up the entire left side of his chest. She had written her name in English, at his request, but surrounded it with swirls and designs that mimicked and complimented the tattoos on his arms. Some of the designs she had drawn were based on musical notes and symbols. She had even included a few notes from one of her favorite songs. She smiled at the idea of her name being written over his heart. With a final glance at her new artwork, she walked out of the bathroom as naked as the day she’d been born. She’d found it was a waste of time to wear clothes around him. They never stayed on for long.
Stretched out on the bed, the sheet barely covered his groin. In fact, he had one leg kicked out to the side. Smirking, she realized he still lay in the same satisfied, lazy sprawl she had left him in. She’d shown him there were much better things to wake up to than just having her draped over him.
Lying down on the bed, she curled up next to him again. He smelled wonderful. That mix of scents that were unique to him alone.
“Are you sleeping?” She leaned over to kiss across his chest.
“Mmm.”
Sitting back, she looked down at him. What a faker. With a laugh, she shoved at his shoulder. “You, sir…drew an entire mural on my back.”
He opened his eyes to look at her. There was a wry twist to his full lips. He didn’t look the slightest bit repentant. He looked…smug.
She narrowed her eyes, but gave up trying to pretend she was put out. She smiled happily, her emotions almost overwhelming her. “It’s beautiful. I love it.” Leaning down, she captured his lips in a slow, heat-building kiss.
*
Roz returned it, a rumble of pleasure in his deep chest. She had no idea what he’d drawn on her was a marriage tattoo, or an approximation of it, anyway. Her species did rings as he recalled. Nothing as permanent or beautiful as the designs his people etched into their ski
n. For a Sargosian marriage, or at least the kind the tattoos they’d drawn on each other indicated, was not just for life but extended past death itself.
She nibbled on his lips, and he smiled. She was gorgeous, both in body and spirit. Even though he’d drawn his name on her, he knew she was too good for him. What did he have to offer her? The life of a mercenary’s wife? A man who lived and worked hard without the creature comforts human women were used to. One day he’d die just as hard. Probably on some backwater planet someplace, paid to fight in a war not his own.
He’d always wanted to be a warrior. So when the war on his planet had ended and robbed him of the chance to follow in his warrior parent’s footsteps, he’d left. He’d walked three days over the baking desert sands to reach the recruiting station at the spaceport and lied about his age to join up.
He’d lost his name, his family…he’d lost everything to get off planet and follow his dream.
Pulling back, he looked into green eyes that sparkled with warmth, and dare he hope, more than affection. If he hadn’t left, he wouldn’t have been here and would never have met her. The sacrifice, the scrubbed-out marks on his arm…were all worth it.
Somehow, the Lady had smiled upon him at last. She had seen fit to bless him for every drop of blood and sweat he had given in his pursuit of becoming a warrior. He commanded his own unit as Lead Warrior. The Lady Goddess had given him a new family of sorts with his men. Sure, they were a rowdy bunch and fought a lot, but they looked out for each other. And now, the Lady had blessed him with Summer.
Most women didn’t even want to deal with his men, yet she’d taken to all of them with true warmth and affection. She wasn’t afraid of any of them, even though they all towered over her.
She had cooked breakfast and dinner for them ever since he’d brought her on board. He found it amusing how they fell over themselves to do anything she asked. The fact she didn’t take advantage of them the way some women would have, just melted his heart more. She’d shocked him and the entire unit when she proved she knew all of their names. She made everyone feel included in a way that didn’t bring out his possessive side with a vengeance. What had she called them? “Her Boys.”
To think he’d worried Jei or the others would have made a play for her was something he could laugh about now, but not a few days ago. Now, he knew every one of them would protect her with their own life. Though if he were honest with himself, he knew if he messed up with her, there would be a long line forming to snatch her up and beat him into a bloody pulp.
Last night had been amazing. As was quickly becoming the nightly ritual, when Summer came out to prepare dinner, suddenly all other duties or preoccupations were dropped. Not only had she cooked an amazing meal last night, she had entertained them all by telling a story. “Peter Pan” had been the story she’d chosen, one she’d said he and the Wildcats reminded her of.
She had spun the tale so well he almost saw the feathers and leaves the children in the tale had worn as part of their wild little outfits. While he knew she didn’t see them as children, or him as some flying kid with no shadow, she did make a good connection between the “Wild Boys” in the story and the Wildcats.
Hell, they did act like overgrown children sometimes…until it was time to get serious. She had also unknowingly touched on something. Something he hadn’t told her yet. His species didn’t age physically past a certain point. So in a way…her tale about a group of wild children, who refused to grow up, oddly reflected a species that was blessed with what appeared to be eternal youth.
He couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t. She not only completed him, she made the Wildcats a true family.
A hammering on the door pulled them out of their trance. He groaned. He didn’t want anything intruding on his time with Summer. Even though he knew it had to end—already they were a day over the time he’d allotted for his team’s downtime—he couldn’t bring himself to tell her they had to leave for a while.
“I’ll get it.”
She dropped another kiss on his lips and levered herself off the bed. She was halfway across the room before his eyes bugged out of his head.
“Put some damn clothes on.”
She stopped so fast her bare feet squeaked on the hard deck plating. Turning slowly in a way that had his gaze following her every move, she made a face and looked about for something to put on.
Of course she grabbed his clothes again. Secretly, he loved seeing her in his clothes…and not so secretly, out of them. He watched as she shimmied her way into his pants and struggled to tighten the belt. Smirking, he chuckled as she gave up for a moment to pull on his t-shirt. She barely smoothed it into place as she crossed to the door, but not before she impishly stuck out her wicked tongue.
He shuddered with freshly remembered pleasure of just what that clever tongue was capable of. He would have fantasies for months based on her mouth.
She glanced one last time over her shoulder to look at him, probably to see if he were covered. She obviously didn’t realize there was no such thing as modesty or privacy on a ship like this. Hell, he had nothing to be modest about, period.
She pulled the door open to reveal Jei, his second-in-command.
“Morning, Jei. Did you need Roz?”
The tall, dark-haired warrior looked over the top of her head right at Roz before looking back at her.
“No. I came to get you.”
Roz sat up, instantly alert. What the hell could be so important that anyone would dare to risk his wrath by disturbing his last day with her?
“Me?”
“Yeah, you’ve got a comm call waiting for you,” Jei informed her as he swept his arm out, indicating she should go with him.
She glanced at him briefly before disappearing out into the corridor, without another word. He had a bad feeling about this. Off the bed in an instant, he yanked drawers open until he found a pair of pants to shove his long legs into. The combats had barely made it up over his ass before he strode out of the room to follow her.
He zipped up his fly en-route, his long legs eating up the distance between them. He was right at her shoulder as she reached the single console in the barracks. Why was she getting a comm call? From whom? She certainly seemed in a hurry to get to it.
“Summer?” he asked, flicking a glance over as she activated the comm. Surprise ran through him as he got a look at the screen. “That’s a Fleet Ident code.”
She gave him a distracted glance before looking back at the screen. “Yeah, I know. I had to let them know where I was in case I needed to be recalled for duty.”
A uniformed officer materialized on the screen, looking stern and worn out. His watery brown eyes flicked over her before he spoke.
“Lieutenant King, I regret to inform you, Commander McCarron was killed in the last patrol the Talons made. We’re running a heavy rotation right now, but we need every pilot we’ve got to keep up with the hit-and-run tactics they are using. Congratulations, Lieutenant, you’ve just been promoted. Now get your ass back to the ship. Is that understood, King?”
A look he hadn’t seen before fell into place over her features. Cool and professional.
“Yes, sir, understood. I’ll be in my bird and space-side immediately. King, out.” She reached forward and ended the comm call.
Roz blinked. His little human was a pilot. A Fleet pilot. Talk about the universe tilting on its axis. He must have misheard about hit-and-run tactics, though. He’d seen Fleet pilots—they flew fast, played harder and rarely made it to retirement. They were the flying equivalent of the Wildcats.
“Summer?”
Her eyes closed for a moment as she dragged in a deep breath. When she opened them to look at him, he got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. She gave him a weak smile and a half-hearted waggle of her eyebrows.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this…about what I do. That I’m a fighter pilot, that is.”
She morphed in front of his eyes into a different person.
It was her, but he saw something he had only caught momentary glimpses of. No wonder she had no fear of jumping into that group of men at the bar. If she really were a fighter pilot, one who had seen combat, she’d have stared into the jaws of death…and probably laughed in its face.
She shrugged, and threw her arms around him to bury her face against the tattoo on his chest. “I was happier when you thought I was a lady.”
Her words were muffled against his skin. They, and the tone in her voice, plucked at his heart strings. He wrapped his arms around her. A pang started up in the center of his chest, that she thought he’d think less of her for what she did. Hell, he was used to warrior women. His mother had been one, most Sargosian women were…it was nothing new to him.
“Why?” He slid a finger under her chin to make her look up. “You’ll always be a lady to me. Albeit one who can seriously kick ass.”
He bent his head and placed a long, lingering kiss on her lips “Now go. The faster you’re gone, the faster you can come back to me.”
* * *
Roz walked Summer to the wicked-looking single person fighter he’d noticed in the shuttle bay several days earlier. Jei followed a few steps behind. He looked over the sleek lines of the ship while she laced up a borrowed pair of boots. At least she didn’t steal them like the clothes under her flight suit. He smiled, not caring. At least she took something to remember him by, even if it were only his clothes.
She opened the canopy on the cockpit and grabbed a helmet. If he’d had any doubt she really was the pilot who went with the deadly fighter, seeing her name on the side of the cockpit and her last name on the front of the helmet ended that.
“I’ll come back for you, Roz. I promise.”
His lips quirked. “I’m pretty sure that should be my line.”
In all his daydreams of the future over the last few days, he’d seen her at home…their home…looking after a brood of kids with his blond hair and her light-green eyes.
Him going out to war, not her. Not a human with a body so fragile compared to his…his heart all but stopped in his chest. He wanted to grab the helmet off her and cast it aside. Beg her not to leave. Beg her to stay here, safe with him.
Taming the Wildcat (Sargosian Chronicles) Page 5