NO WORDS ALONE

by Autumn Dawn

  He showed her how to speed up when he needed it, let her watch to the blessed end when the climax took him. Let her watch…let her want.

  She fetched him a washcloth and herself a robe. She sat quietly on the bed, seemingly unsure what to do with herself. He fixed that by pulling her down into his arms for a kiss. “I’m not in the habit of leaving a woman hungry,” he told her, his hand trailing teasingly over her hip. “Say the word.”

  She groaned and pulled away. “Your brand of satisfaction is torture.”

  He caught her hand before she could slide off the bed, brought it to his lips. “For now, I will let you rest. It won’t be long before we’ll be spending days in bed…and there will be no resting then.” He bound up and swept her into his arms on the way to the shower, where, in spite of himself, he did get a little carried away. Soap and hot water and a naked woman could do that to a man.

  He did not, however, take her virginity. She did not thank him for the favor.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ryven kept his hands off her on the diplomacy ship. It helped that he was the captain and chose to keep long hours, but the situation was also deliberate—the love play without consummation was difficult for him, too. It didn’t help that the last time he had touched her, she had begged him to finish. His own physical torment he could take, but her begging was another matter. It did things to him, things he was unwilling to examine.

  He didn’t want his wife to beg.

  He treated her with courtesy, though, and gave her a tour of the ship. To her delight, he even took her to the hangar where the star fighters were stored. She looked around the huge space with appreciation, and stroked the nose of one fighter with something approaching reverence. Her eyes were wide, hopeful. “Can we sit inside?”

  “It’s a single cockpit,” he told her, but gestured indulgently toward it. He helped her in, then stood outside on the retractable step while she settled into the seat. There was no danger of her getting into mischief with the power off—and just as well. That look in her eyes would tempt him to give her far greater liberties. It was best he never tell her.

  She looked startled when the seat adjusted to her body. “It moves!”

  He grinned. “It’s a pressure sensitive seat—very helpful when gravity tries to flatten you.”

  She murmured her appreciation and touched the control yoke. “This is similar to our controls, but your displays are very different. If I remember my studies, this panel is touch sensitive?” Her fingers delicately traced the dash before her. She touched the thin brow band resting there. “These are the mental interfaces, aren’t they? The ship adjusts to your thoughts.”

  He considered her. “I see those hours you’ve spent reading are paying off.”

  She flushed. “You’ve been checking up on me.”

  “I like to know what interests you,” he said smoothly. “Didn’t you think someone had to approve the flight manuals and schematics you’ve downloaded?”

  Her face grew hotter. “I like to fly.”

  “I remember you telling my father this. It’s the reason I indulged you,” he admitted.

  It wasn’t arrogance that made him sure she’d never try to fly a fighter alone. It took many months of intense training to learn all the basics and become certified, even if one had trained on another kind of aircraft. They were complex machines, and he’d no more be able to intuit one of her ships than she would this one, not without study. Take off and landing systems alone could be very different, potentially lethal to the uninitiated. That didn’t even touch on the computer guidance system or weapons. One never knew how a strange ship would adjust to space versus atmospheric flight, and she was experienced enough to know that.

  She wouldn’t be able to sneak it past security, anyway.

  “You can fly this model in the simulators, but we will stick to shuttle craft when we get back home.” He waited until she looked at him and steeled himself against the disappointment in her eyes. “I thought I could take you up when we returned.” Because there was no way he was letting her fly any farther away from home, not alone.

  She bit her lip. Disappointment flickered over her face, but she said hopefully, “But I can fly this one in the simulator?”

  “Yes.” What harm could it do? Though she’d fly a real fighter when he was stone cold dead. They were not toys.

  So he took her to the flight simulators. Any regret she might have felt seemed to fade as they entered the room. She examined the different models like a woman shopping for holiday gifts. Her eyes were shining as she climbed into a double cockpit with him. “Can we install one of these in our house?”

  He grinned at her. “There’s no need. I can show you where to go to find them when we get back. Better yet, I can take you flying with me and train you on a live craft.”

  On a live craft?

  Xera badly wanted to kiss her soon-to-be husband, but she knew he wouldn’t allow it while he was in uniform. He was surprisingly stuffy for a man who went wild in private. Instead, she took his hand and silently squeezed, very hard.

  His eyes warmed. “You can thank me properly later.”

  Xera was so excited she missed some of his explanations of the controls and he had to repeat them, along with an admonishment to calm down. She took a deep breath and focused. It wasn’t like she’d never been in a simulator, or even a real craft, before. Still.

  He had chosen a shuttle craft for her first “flight,” and it didn’t take her long to adapt to the controls. Compared to a fighter, the craft was much more intuitive, built for simplicity. Even so, her take off was gruesome and the flight clumsy. The differences in the ship from what she was used to made turns tricky. He watched silently as they cruised over virtual hills and joined a flight pattern above a busy terminal. She never got to find out how the landing would be. With the anti-collision system turned off, she managed to collide with another shuttle in midair.

  She sat silently watching as the world burst into flames around them.

  “You could have been worse,” he said thoughtfully.

  She shot him a look, then laughed at herself. “It is an unfamiliar ship. I’ll adjust. I’ve got to admit to being embarrassed, though. It’s been a long time since I crashed and burned.” She was thoughtful for a moment then said, “I hear you’re a pretty good pilot.”

  “Do you?” His expression was enigmatic. “Have you ever flown a fighter simulator?”

  “Yes, and I’d love to try one of yours. What I’d really enjoy more right now, though, is to see you fly one. I admit I’m very curious.”

  “Hm.” He unfastened his safety harness and joined her outside the simulator. He then directed her to a viewing area along with the simulators’ technicians while he chose a fighter simulator. It didn’t look like much from the outside, of course—just an egg-shaped pod like all the others. He climbed inside and sealed the door.

  Xera sat in a chair and watched the view screens come up. The room dimmed slightly to focus more attention to the screen. She would see everything he was seeing.

  “Run simulation Yega-zero,” one of the techs said to another. “Level ten.” The tech setting up the program looked surprised, but he did as ordered.

  Maybe that program was rarely run? Xera thought to herself, but she kept quiet and watched the alien glyphs run across Ryven’s screens.

  Ryven calmly ran through his preflight as they talked. “Ship one, ready for launch.”

  “Go, ship one,” the tech cleared him.

  Ryven’s fighter cleared the docking bay and glided outside the hangar, then took off in a burst of speed as two alien fighters charged him. Ryven fired, hit one, disabling it, then banked right, dodging a barrage of return fire from the remaining ship. He took an impossibly tight U-turn upside down and destroyed the remaining ship as two more appeared behind him. Enemy craft came in fast with a hailstorm of laser fire, swarming Ryven’s ship like mosquitoes around a nudist. He’d roll to avoid three only to surface facing two more.
He was fast with his attacks, snapping off shots and rolling away before they could hit him.

  He took some damage, though. No one could fight so many and not be grazed, but he took his ship past the limits and made it do things that left Xera in awe. All told, he took out eleven ships in a pitched battle that should have killed him in the first minute. That kind of fighting took years of experience. She had to hold herself very still when he came out of the cockpit to keep from throwing herself at him. She could feel her eyes glowing with pride and the love she felt for him.

  Love? Scary, but true. When had that happened?

  The way his eyes sharpened on her, he must have seen it. He linked arms and escorted her out of the hangar and to the lift. They didn’t say anything all the way to their room, didn’t communicate until she shoved him up against the closed door and kissed him hard. That lasted all of three seconds before he reversed positions and flattened her against the door, her mouth under his, his thigh nudging her higher. They didn’t say a word, just kissed until they were both dizzy. He finally broke away and rested his head against her neck. “Woman…” It was rebuke and hungry regret. He finally backed up and set her away from the door. He had to steady her a moment before letting go. “Stay here,” he said, pointing a warning finger. “Decide what you will say to your sister when you speak. It may be short, and this may be your only chance for quite a while.” He turned on his heel and quickly left. Maybe he didn’t trust himself, either.

  Xera was ready to speak, all right. She might trip over her tongue in her haste to tell her sister everything. She was starting to think her promise didn’t matter under the circumstances. Ryven wasn’t going to wait much longer, and she couldn’t. What she felt was becoming a need, and went much deeper than touch. There was something he could give her that she desperately needed, something she could only experience in his arms. She wanted that joining, that closeness. They were past the point where merely snuggling would work—they couldn’t touch without catching fire.

  She groaned and flopped down in a chair. She needed this to be over.

  Xera sighed and took up her electronic tablet. She had to review what she’d say to her sister. After that she might study the shuttle flight manuals. If she wanted to master the fighter, first she’d have to start at the bottom.

  Anything that kept her busy was good.

  It was late when Ryven entered their shared room. He’d been tense for hours and hadn’t looked forward to another night on the floor. Much as he wanted to see his wife, she was hard on him. He wasn’t sleeping well, and he’d had nightmares of his wife going back to her people, leaving him.

  She wasn’t there.

  He checked his automatic concern. Although it was late, she was on the ship somewhere. A simple question on the security net told him where.

  He glanced at the simulator technicians as he entered the control room. He nodded in response to their salutes and checked the screen. Xera had made progress since that morning. The log showed that she’d done nothing but practice takeoffs and landings for hours, with the result being that she’d become quite smooth. An unusual approach to learning, for most students became bored with that kind of repetition and wanted to run the entire program through. She had more patience than he’d realized. He told the techs to signal her, and went to stand by her pod.

  She blinked at him as her eyes adjusted to the light spilling through the open door. “Hello. Am I in trouble?”

  He extended a hand. “It’s late. You need your sleep.”

  She stifled a yawn and accepted his help. “I guess.” Perhaps his face showed his annoyance, for she glanced at him and said, “I’m sorry if I hogged the machine. They didn’t tell me that anyone else needed it.”

  He looked at her sideways. “I gave you permission to use them.”

  “But you’re unhappy about it now.”

  He looked straight ahead. After a moment he admitted, “I’m unhappy with your preoccupation.” He privately wondered at her motivation as well. After all, they would soon meet up with GE ships. If she thought she might find a way to leave him…But he would never say as much aloud, and she was monitored at every moment during this trip. His concern was unreasonable, but it made him touchy. The entire idea of giving her access to a ship was difficult for him, but he chose not to discourage her…at least, not until he’d found some way to distract her.

  Part of the fault lay with him. He’d been so determined to use his duties as a distraction from his frustrated desire that he’d often left her alone. By now his crew probably wondered why their captain didn’t spend more time with his new wife. The thought of such speculation made him frown.

  She looked irritated. “There’s precious little to do on this boat. It keeps me out of trouble.”

  “Hm.”

  She sighed, but waited until they reached their room to comment. Once inside, she braced her legs and told him flatly, “I couldn’t fly off if I wanted to. You know that. If that’s what’s worrying you.”

  “But the notion has occurred to you.” He stared her down, his heart suddenly racing.

  Her jaw worked. “I’d be a liar if I told you no.”

  Suddenly he was tired. It had all seemed to be going so well. What ever he’d thought they were making of their relationship, she hadn’t given in yet. Perhaps she was still holding out hope against their union. Was it possible?

  But such hope was irrelevant. There was no point arguing the inevitable. Even if he felt unusually dispirited.

  Quietly, he said, “Go to bed, Xera.”

  His lack of argument seemed to deflate her. She actually looked sorry, but he wasn’t going to feed her need to resist him. He had better tactics in mind. Yet, not to night. He spread his pallet on the floor and shed his clothes, heedless where they fell. He slid under the blankets, his ears attuned to her own as they rustled. Tired as he was, his arousal grew.

  They couldn’t cement this marriage fast enough for him.

  Xera stood at the Lord Governor Atarus’s left hand, her face carefully neutral. Heavy kohl extended in a line from the corner of her eye to halfway down her nose, bracketing it like the painted eyes of cheetah. Her lips were carefully lined in darkest red, and a golden diadem topped her brow, holding her thick and glossy tresses off her face like a cresting black wave. Her robes were black and gold, held snugly to her ribs with a golden obi.

  She kept silent as the lord governor addressed the commanders of the Galactic Explorers’ and Interplanetary Council’s ships.

  A line of cold sweat trickled down her back, distracting her from her presentation of professionalism. It was the first time she had seen her own people since being captured. It was a dizzying experience. So close, with all they represented of home, of the familiar, yet they were also impossibly far.

  Ryven stood at his father’s right hand. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew it would be impassive, perhaps even arrogant like the time she’d first seen him. A flashback rocked her equilibrium. For a moment she felt a little sick, surrounded by aliens for all she’d come to know them.

  Her people were out there, and she couldn’t go to them. She closed her eyes and ruthlessly tamped down the emotion. This was here and now. She’d deal with it.

  She was not the lord governor’s mouthpiece. He used his computer to translate for him as he stated his case to the Interplanetary Council and the GE. Her former crew members were to be a gift, a statement of intent, as well as proof to the Interplanetary Council of the GE’s trespassing. Lord Atarus had a long discussion with her over that prior to this meeting, over how their government worked, which authorities to cultivate. He was very firm over what would happen to any more GE ships that trespassed in Scorpio territory. Then he introduced her.

  “The men from the trespassing GE ship are being returned to you. We have kept for ourselves our new ambassador, Lieutenant Xera Harris-daughter, formerly of the world Polaris. As a concession to her betrothal to my son, Ryven Atarus, she will be allowed to conta
ct her family to inform them of her impending nuptials.”

  All eyes turned to her. The screen was split to show the captains of two ships looking at her, but there were many more on both sides who were listening in. The commander of the GE’s ship looked at her intently. “Lieutenant. I remember your file. You graduated with honors from our translator program. You seem to be well.” It was a question.

  “I have been well treated, sir,” she answered, strained.

  “You agreed to marry the lord governor’s son, then?”

  “I was chosen for the honor,” she said carefully.

  It was a fine line to tell the facts and yet tell the truth without offending anyone. The commander’s eyes glittered. “And were you chosen for the role of ambassador, too?”

  “I was,” she answered.

  There was a beat of silence. “How were you chosen, Lieutenant? The rest of your crew seems to have fared very differently.” It was clear what he was insinuating.

  Ryven stepped forward, and his expression was not kind. “The officers of Xera’s ship were uncommonly stupid. Initially I was inclined to kill all of the crew we captured. Be grateful I found anything worth redeeming.” He sent an arrogant look Xera’s way. “The woman is a war prize, as are all of that crew. It is our custom to choose our own ambassadors from our captives. They are not given a choice once they belong to us.”

  “Ah.” The commander’s expression wasn’t friendly, but it was difficult to argue with the kind of arrogance Ryven projected.

  Xera understood his feelings—she wanted to hit Ryven herself. While she understood his defending her, she hated being referred to as a war prize, a thing.

  The commander went on, “In the spirit of your generosity, we will establish a link to the lieutenant’s sister. I can’t guarantee it will last long—it will be a vast distance, even for a wormhole. We don’t have many signal boosters this far out.”