The bits of flotsam flying pass the view screen increased at a rate ten times faster than before. Cellie yanked on the controls and her pod shifted, with the motion throwing her back into her seat as she tilted to the side. Jax cursed.
Cellie laughed from the pure joy of flying as enemy fighters lines up in front of her. She fired and employed evasive maneuvers. The pod vibrated beneath her as she pushed it to the max, spinning upside down then righting her. Two fighters broke formation and circled behind her.
“Jax?”
“I’m on it.”
Explosions popped off from the rear and her pod jerked from the aftermath. Too soon to celebrate the enemies defeat, a large chunk of rock flew towards her. Hands and legs working in tandem, Cellie knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid the impact. From the corner of her eye Jax’s jet soared past and intercepted. With his vessel.
Fiery explosions flashed in front of her.
‘Life signature terminated.’
The icon for him blinked off the screen. Her score lit up on the viewer in bright red, flashing her best yet, but anger poured through Cellie. She ripped off her helmet and hit the button for the pod lid to release. She half-climbed out in time to see the lid of Jax’s pod rising.
Cellie jumped out and stormed toward him. By the time his boots hit the ground, she stood in front of him full of indignation.
“What did you do that for? I could have won without your grand gesture.”
Jax swiped a hand through his sweat soaked dark hair and braced his hands on his hips, eyes glaring at her. “I didn’t care about winning, Cellie. If you thought I’d stand by and watch you blow up for the second time in as many days, you’re crazy.”
She froze. Her arms dropped to her side. “What?”
“Yeah, not a good moment for me, sweetheart.” Jax ran a hand over his face. “Maybe it’s all a game to you but I have no desire to watch you die again. Not even in a flight simulator.”
“Jax.” Cellie didn’t know what to say. “This isn’t working.”
His silver eyes snapped with unbridled fury. “Enough, Cellie. I love you. Deal with it. I’m not taking it back and I don’t care how you think that makes me wrong.”
Cellie’s heart cringed at the phrase he kept using. She thought of all the years at the public orphanage. She had desperately craved love until she finally realized the words, the emotions behind them meant nothing. She was great without it.
“Why can’t it just be the way it was?” The pleading question escaped before she could guard her tongue.
Jax’s shoulders slumped and he stretched his arms out to pull her close. “Come here.”
Cellie considered resisting, but his warm body was inviting and the familiar comfort of his arms around her proved too hard to deny.
Jax nuzzled the top of her head. “It’s exactly the way it was. Nothing has to change if you’re not ready for it, Cellie. I’m patient, I can wait.”
She stiffened and tugged in his embrace, but one large palm cupped the back of her head and pushed her face back to his chest. Pride sent her next lie forth. “If you think I’m going to fall in love with you too, you have a long wait in store, Mr. Patient.”
Jax’s chest bounced beneath her cheek as he chuckled. “You already love me, Cellie. You’re just not brave enough to admit it yet.”
Her protest stilled in her mouth when Jax’s lips pressed to the tip of her ear. His next whisper disarmed her. “I’m brave enough for both of us right now.”
“I hate you,” Cellie mumbled into his shirt.
More of his dark, rich laughter curled around her. “I know you do.”
“Stupid love talk,” she added, burrowing closer.
He bent over her and the breath from his laughter caressed her cheeks. Cellie might not want to admit aloud how much he meant to her, but she’d never deny how right it felt standing here in his arms while he held her. Thank the stars his stubborn nature refused to let her go.
And for once her flight or fight response lay dormant.
Chapter 11
That evening Jax finished the last of his reports on the attack on Queen Cordelia. Command was making noises about a medal or an award for his crew. Like he wanted another one of those to weigh his uniform down. Jax pushed his chair away from the desk and rose with a stretch.
His mouth curved as he thought of Cellie’s reaction to his repeated declarations of love. Avoidance. Hard-headed, stubborn woman meant the world to him. Now that he’d taken care of his official business, Jax planned to handle his personal.
Namely Cellimina Manx.
On his way down the corridors of the base, Jax debated how he wanted to move forward. Being Cellie’s sometime lover was no longer working. He imagined a more permanent relationship with her. The question remained how to convince her to be of the same mindset. Cellie’s reaction, from what he could tell, stemmed from an assumption that acknowledging their feelings would ruin what they shared.
Jax knew everything he needed about the strength of Cellie’s character. She was strong, loyal, and the most passionate woman he’d ever met. He knew little of her personal background aside from the fact she never spoke of family and was devout in her service and friendship to the Zephil Queen, Cordelia Jessin. Perhaps the Queen would make a likely ally.
The cheering down the hall caught his attention. Jax considered walking by, but something about the mix of shouts and groans combined with the heavy thumps forced his steps to slow. Two men stood in the doorway blocking his view. Jax cleared his throat twice, and when that didn’t work, he shoved a shoulder forward.
The one who took the brunt of his annoyance spun with a glare.
“Hey!” His gaze jerked from Jax’s uniform clad chest to his face and paled. “Sorry Commander, Sir.”
Not one of his men from the Z, but another officer nevertheless who recognized Jax’s rank. Jax offered a clipped nod and moved forward, only to come to an abrupt halt at the sight before him. Cellie spun, kicked and back flipped in a whirl of motion against his Chief of Security.
No one on these excursions ever tempted Aran T’Kar to engage in a sparring match. It also explained the draw and why over twenty men and women gathered in a circle around the combatants. Some were Zephil royal guards, fists waving in the air, and some were members of his crew throwing out encouraging words.
Jax eased closer amidst the crowd and crossed his arms over his chest while his gaze studied their moves with a critical eye. Aran ducked a vicious punch to the throat and pivoted on his right foot to come around behind Cellie, but she dropped to the floor and rolled, sweeping his leg out from under him at the same time. As Aran’s big body slammed onto the floor, Cellie bounced up and hyped those watching by waving her arms around her head in triumph.
A grin torqued up the side of Jax’s mouth. Cellie’s vibrant personality drew him to her the first time he met the Queen’s feisty guard in his flight combat training class. The class was something Jax did once every couple of months when he could make the schedule. It had the highest attendance rating of any subjects offered by his peers.
Cellie’s in-depth responses to his questions and the thought she put into each lesson and scenario separated her by far in a class of military students who planned for a career in the Alliance. Jax was instantly attracted to her. She was unlike any lover in his past. His type always ran to petite women who cried at the first sign of danger. Soft women until Cellie.
Her fighting skills matched those of his male friends. In fact, Cellie’s scores on virtual training modules exceeded many of them, and as someone considered a civilian it spoke highly of her talents.
But outside of their similar work interest, she had a zest and passion which called to him on a personal level. In the bedroom they met equally, Cellie’s hunger matching his own and her humor providing him with a means of relaxing in between sweaty bouts of sex. Too many times to count they’d lain together and simply talked. Jax didn’t talk to his lovers. They weren’t interested
in anything other than fashion.
He focused on the curve of Cellie’s plump butt in her black and purple uniform and tried to imagine her hyper focused on fashion. A grin twisted his lips. Cellie owned magnificent dresses—gowns designed by the Queen’s own dressmaker. Jax even had the enjoyable experience of seeing her twice in such ultra-feminine garb when his presence had been requested by the Queen to attend two balls. But Cellie had never been overly concerned about her appearance.
Aran growled low during a particular hit, the sound bouncing off the walls. Cellie’s smile bared her teeth, no fear visible.
No, Cellie and Jax wouldn’t ever spend time in bed talking of fashion unless it involved her request to stop purchasing the expensive, fancy lace things he gave her.
Jax winced as Aran kicked Cellie in the chest, throwing her back two steps. She regained her footing then charged forward and came at his security chief with a series of blows that had the Argoran backing up as he blocked each one.
Unfortunately, Cellie miscalculated and Aran’s forearm almost rammed into her temple. Aran pulled back on the swing in the last second, but Cellie recovered faster than possible and used the opening to land a painful punch to Aran’s jaw. He staggered, and unlike Aran, Cellie didn’t let up, following through with a driving fist to his middle then swiveled on her hip and kicked Aran hard enough to lift him from the floor.
The shifter flipped mid-air, coming down in a three point stance. Cellie pounced. She jumped Aran as soon as his feet touched the floor. He stumbled and tripped sending them both crashing to the floor, Cellie on top. Jax tensed, his arms falling to his side. He locked his jaw to keep from interrupting. Cellie gripped Aran’s throat with one hand as her other arm reared back.
“You win,” Aran called out loudly.
The room erupted in shouts and whistles. Aran leaped to his feet holding Cellie at the waist, then gently set her on the floor, proving the Argoran had held back slightly. The dark look she sent him revealed she’d just realized the same thing. Aran winked and Cellie’s responding laughter sent Jax’s heart skipping.
She was in him soul deep. Jax walked up behind Cellie as everyone congratulated her. “Very good, Senior Guard Manx.”
Her back stiffened, but the smile she aimed in his direction was bland holding none of the warmth he was used to. She inclined her head in gracious acceptance of his compliment. “Commander.”
Two steps backward for every one forward. Jax allowed his grin to take on a wolfish cast and laughed when her eyes widened then glared at him.
Aran wrapped an arm around Jax’s shoulders. “If I’d known you watched, I would have steamed over her.”
Cellie gaped and gifted Aran with her deadly glare next. “What?”
Aran shrugged. “It would have pissed him off enough to challenge me. Jax hasn’t sparred with me in months.”
Jax grunted. “And don’t plan on it. Besides, Cellie isn’t that easy to beat.”
Aran snorted and caught the towel someone tossed to him. After he wiped sweat from his arms and face, he offered it to Cellie.
“No. Just no.” She grimaced, shoving Aran’s hand away, then lifted the hem of her thin black shirt, baring her taut abs, and wiped her face on the bottom.
Several men ogled her trim waist and Jax considered punching a few to knock off their cocky grins. Cellie dropped her shirt and smirked at Jax as she called out to one of her royal guardsmen. Before he could prevent it, she wheedled past him and ended up surrounded by a wall of well wishers asking questions.
“Trouble in paradise?” Aran joked, crossing the room toward the exit.
Jax decided to give Cellie a little longer before he stormed her gates and followed Aran. “Not really.”
Doubt flashed over Aran’s features but he let it go. “Up for a drink?”
Since the only person he wanted to talk to planned to avoid him, Jax agreed. “Sure.”
The bar in Center City was a crowded one made popular because of Xenol’s classification as a neutral planet. The clientele consisted of a mix of law abiding citizens and blatant criminals. Perfect for the mood Jax was in. The moment he and Aran crossed the threshold, several stares turned in their direction.
Aran headed straight for the old fashioned bar counter and snagged two bar stools. Jax sat with his back to the bar, mirroring Aran’s pose with his elbows propped behind him.
Jax glanced at Aran from the side of his eye and smirked. “You think we should have changed our uniforms before coming down?”
His Chief of Security’s lips curled, flashing fang as a growl rumbled free. Two nearby patrons leaped from their seats and moved toward another table.
“I’m not sure I’d blend in, so why bother.”
Jax had to agree. Aran’s hair lay about his shoulders in streaks of brown and blond. He had a stillness and wild vibe that many Argorans carried due to their animal half. The fluid grace he moved with and the obviously sharper teeth marked him as a man not to bother unless someone felt foolish or cocky.
Jax allowed his gaze to scan the bar and the unsavory customers. Of course, there was always one or five willing to try their luck.
“Are you drinking?” the gruff voice of the bartender asked Jax.
Not turning, Jax ordered his usual. “Aluthian whiskey.”
“Same here,” Aran added.
Two squat glasses appeared next to Jax’s elbow. He handed one to Aran as the bartender left to handle another customer at the end of the counter.
“It’s been a while since we bet on an outcome,” Aran started.
Jax groaned and tossed back his drink in one swallow. “Can I at least get two drinks under my belt first?”
Aran tipped his head toward the crowd. “You might want to ask our new friends.”
With a frustrated sigh, Jax followed the path he signaled. Space pirates. One, two, three. Jax cursed. A total of five bastards sitting at a circular table pushed against the far wall. Not even the dim lighting could hide their attention.
Each man huddled over their drinks, ignoring the waitress who fluttered by as they continued to look at Jax and Aran. The heat of the intense stare aimed in their direction burned a hole in Jax’s chest. This, too, was a common occurrence, and the reason any member of the Alliance military traveled in groups on planets where they might meet those who were less than fond tolerance for them.
Jax straightened. “I guess the answer is no by their looks.”
Aran’s snarl reassured Jax as he set his untouched drink to the side. “Ellie hates when I’m injured. I’ll have to hide any bruises.”
“I’m sure she’ll fix you right up.” Aran’s mate had the sweetest disposition and often invited Jax to their quarters for dinner on the Zanian IX.
“You don’t know my mate. They’ll be yelling followed by tears because I’ve upset the baby.”
The comment distracted Jax enough to wonder if Cellie wanted children. It wasn’t exactly a topic to come up between them. Not that it would happen as she was very diligent about her birth control maintenance. He imagined her carrying their baby, belly softly rounded. Then the image morphed into Cellie whipping out a laser and shooting him in the groin for getting her pregnant. Jax chuckled, drawing a confused glance from Aran.
A bottle crashed to the floor, pulling both their attention back to the table. All five men stood and made their way toward the bar, ruthless grins twisting their lips. The few patrons closest to him and Aran scattered.
A wild light lit Aran’s shifting green eyes. “Make it count, Commander. I’ll take the two on the right.”
Leaving Jax the other three. He sent Aran a fuming glare right before the punch breezed by his head. Jax ducked and came back swinging. The burly man backed up and withdrew a spinning blade from the waist of his pants.
It figured. One last glance to make sure his friend was good and Jax launched himself at the men. The adrenaline and smack of fists on flesh re-energized him. With every swing and punch he landed, Jax released more
of his frustration.
A brief check showed Aran slicing through both his opponents. His arms and legs moved in coordinated motion as he took them on together.
Chapter 12
“How did you two end up in a brawl against five again?” Ellie asked as she dabbed at the cut on Aran’s wrist.
Her ministrations shouldn’t matter, since the Argoran’s natural healing would leave Aran with no scar by morning. Jax, on the other hand, held a cloth to the bleeding slice over his eyebrow. For a minor cut it stung fiercely, and seeing the care Ellie used to tend Aran’s wounds made Jax long for the same care and tender look from the woman he loved.
“Jax started it,” Aran blatantly lied, wrapping his arms around his mate’s waist and pressing his face to her round belly where their child rested. “I was defending him.”
“Hmm.” Ellie stroked Aran’s multi-colored hair. “In that case, I’m glad you were there to help.”
A smile curved Aran’s mouth.
Jax shook his head in amusement. This was a different side to his friend since he’d mated, but he wished them all the best. “Can you give us a moment, Ellie and I’ll be out of your hair?”
“Of course.” She gathered the few medical supplies and winked at Jax. “No rush.”
As soon as she cleared the room and shut the door to the bedroom, Jax rose. “She’d love you more if you didn’t always keep secrets from her.”
Aran stood and stretched, the claws he’d used to decimate his two opponents in the bar nowhere visible. “Secrets?”
“Mating her, getting her pregnant. You know those secrets.”
Instead of looking ashamed, Aran looked pleased with himself. “Ellie and I are mated. If she looked close enough, she’d sense my every thought. But it seems like you might want to take some of the advice you’re always dispensing to others.”
Aran paused outside the room he used and stared at Jax with green eyes that saw too much. Jax clasped his hands behind his back and raised a brow. “Say it, T’Kar.”
Love Like No Other Page 7