Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  “You hunt?” Makkon asked. It was a stupid question, since the picture clearly indicated she did, or at least had when she had been younger.

  She pulled her gaze from him and toward the picture. He realized she had been watching him while he inspected the room. Waiting to see what he thought of her quarters? Or studying him for some reason? The weapons on the walls were at her back, and he hadn’t caught her giving them speculative looks yet.

  “I haven’t much since I went away for school,” Tamryn said, “but I used to go on trips with my father and grandfather every summer. None of my brothers found it interesting, which I think disappointed Da and Grandda. The boys all preferred computers and games and flying to being out in the woods and shooting, but I had a knack for it and won a bunch of trophies as a kid. It was fun, but mostly I liked that I got my da to myself on those trips and that we had fun adventures. He was a Fleet officer until a few years ago, stationed on ships, so he wasn’t around the house much when we were growing up. And we hardly ever saw Grandda. When he was home, he talked business and marketing with my brothers. Despite having to take a bunch of classes, I had about this much interest in that subject.” She made a zero with her thumb and index finger. “But Grandda and Da both enjoyed hunting, so that was our common ground. When they were both home at the same time, and we got to go out, it was almost like a holiday. I...” She bit her lip, maybe realizing she was babbling. Yes, the drug would do that to a person.

  Makkon was enjoying it, though, listening to her speak without the usual guarded reserve, having her look at him without the hatred and calculation in her eyes. It made his chest ache with longing. And frustration because he knew they could never be anything except enemies and because the drug would wear off soon, and she would remember that she hated him.

  As if he’d needed more reasons to feel lust for her, it excited him to imagine her in the tunnels of Glaciem with him, stalking some animal side-by-side with their weapons in hand. They would take down their prey together, then he would wrap his arms around her, press her against the icy wall of the passage, and they could celebrate their victory with an unleashing of carnal passions.

  Makkon looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath, trying to calm his libido. His stupid cock was standing to attention like a rifle ready to fire. Nothing could happen here. He should take her back.

  He was aware of her stepping closer to him, but he didn’t look down, afraid he would lose control, grab her, and thrust her against the wall—or down onto that bed—if he met her eyes, looked at her smiling face. It was the smile that threatened to undo him. Before, she had been beautiful, but it had been a distant I’d-kill-you-if-I-could beauty. The warmth changed it, made her face ten times more appealing. Not to mention the memory of her kiss, the eagerness it had held.

  “Makkon,” she whispered, his name a caress on her lips.

  “You can call me Makk,” he heard himself saying, as if from a distance.

  “Makk.” She rested her hands on his hips.

  He swallowed and looked down. “You mentioned secrets. Was there something else you wanted to tell me? Without anyone else hearing?”

  “Something I wanted to show you.” Her smile grew almost impish, and another surge of heat flooded his groin. His vest was not tucked into his belt, and she slipped her hands underneath the material.

  Tamryn backed him up against her desk, and he grew as still as a pirashka doe sensing a hunter’s approach. She slid her hands up his ribs, raising gooseflesh everywhere she touched. Alternating between massaging him and scraping her fingers over the peaks and valleys of his muscles, she stirred fire within him, fire so intense, it made his breath quicken and his heart hammer inside of his chest.

  He wanted to grab her, let his hands explore her flesh, but he worried he would startle her away, make her stop. The last thing he wanted was for her to stop. Besides, if he did nothing, then she wouldn’t have a reason to be angry with him later, would she? He was simply standing here, letting her push his vest higher of her own accord, neither forcing her nor coercing her. So what if his cock was getting harder with every passing second and threatened to punch a hole through his trousers?

  He knew that he was reasoning with his penis, not his mind, trying to justify being here, trying not to feel like an ass when he knew she was drugged and not acting of her own free will. He’d taken her station and killed her people; as much as he wanted her to come over to his side, to grow attached to him and become a sympathizer, he knew she hadn’t. As soon as the drug wore off—

  Her warm, damp tongue rasped across his nipple, and he gasped, all conscious thoughts jolted from his mind. She chuckled deep within her throat as her mouth teased him delicately. What had he been thinking about? He couldn’t remember. She suckled him, and he inhaled quick breaths, desire mixing with pure pleasure as she tasted him. Her hands continued to roam, creating intriguing sensations wherever they traveled, but it was the licks and sucks of his nipples that shot jolts of electricity through him.

  “Tamryn,” he groaned.

  Makkon could no longer hear the part of his mind that had been warning him that this was a bad idea, that he should tell her to stop. She made a contented mewing noise as she ran her tongue along the dip between his pectoral muscles to find the other nipple. She seemed to want this. To want him.

  Was it so bad to be the victor and enjoy the spoils of that victory? Brax would call him a fool for even thinking of denying himself this pleasure.

  Her hands kneaded their way down his abdomen, and his muscles grew taut, quivering at her attention. Her lips left his nipple, and he almost voiced a protest until she licked and nipped her way lower. His fists clenched and unclenched, wanting to guide her, to help her find... Did she want to find him? Was that what she had in mind?

  Hoping he wouldn’t scare her away, he dropped his hands to his belt. His fingers shook as he fumbled with the clasp. Some elite hunter he was. He could barely get his pants down.

  Tamryn sank to her knees and helped him, even as she circled his navel with her tongue. As soon as his cock was released, it sprang free, like a tiger trying to pounce. He worried it would alarm her—he wasn’t a small man in any sense of the word. But she grasped him with both hands, making approving noises as she looked him over.

  She licked her lips, then her tongue darted out, tasting the tip of him. He dropped his head back, hardly able to believe this strong woman, this fellow huntress, was on her knees before him, enjoying the sight of him, the taste of him, the thick hardness of him.

  As she drew him into her mouth, her moist warmth wrapping around him, he groaned her name. She stroked his balls, fondling them delightfully with a delicate touch, but it was her lips that had him trembling. He fought the urge to grab her head, to pump into her. Instead, he kept his hands as fists at his side, the veins in his arms leaping out as his muscles flexed and contracted in response to her sweet sucking. As much as he wanted to pick her up, fling her onto the bed, and sink into her, this was tormentingly delicious too. One of her hands came around to his ass, grabbing him, pulling him closer as if she couldn’t get enough of him. She took him deeper, softening her throat so she could take more of him.

  “Faster,” he whispered.

  She complied, seemingly eager to do so. One of her hands dropped to her waist. He looked down, disappointed that she had removed it, even though her tongue and mouth continued to pleasure him. Their gazes met, and electricity charged the air between them. Lust burned in her gray-green eyes, and she touched her hand to her own crotch, rubbing herself as she continued to suck him in and out.

  He smiled triumphantly, so pleased to see that she was enjoying herself, that his cock excited her and made her want to touch herself. She shifted the hand on his ass back around to him, curling it around his shaft. His penis was quivering now, so close and ready. She drew him in and out faster. He let his head fall back again, his entire body taut as he anticipated an explosive release.

  Some slight sh
ift in her weight, a hitch in her momentum, made him look down again. She wasn’t rubbing herself with that other hand anymore. A surge of alarm coursed through him. She had a knife. Even as she drew him in and out with her mouth, she thrust the blade at his femoral artery, her intent clear.

  Though surprised, he lunged down and caught her wrist, his grip tighter than steel. The point of the blade halted a millimeter from his flesh.

  When Makkon tore the knife out of her grip, she stumbled back onto the carpet. She jumped to her feet immediately, finding a fighter’s crouch, but defeat lurked in her eyes. She knew she couldn’t best him now. She had made her choice, her expression said, and she was prepared for the consequences of failure.

  He didn’t know what to say. He stared at her, aware of his engorged cock, his trousers around his ankles, his breathing still heavy, almost panting. He should have been furious at the attempt on his life, especially when it had come wrapped up in such a cruel tease, but he couldn’t help but admire her for trying, for doing whatever she had to do to kill the men who had invaded her station. If she were one of his men, he would praise her for her dedication, for her willingness to risk her life. And damn it, he couldn’t help but still want her. If possible, he wanted her even more. All the blood in his body seemed to have rushed to his cock, and for a moment, all he could think about as he stared at her was how he could get her to finish.

  He turned the knife over in his hand, imagined holding it to her throat, and commanding her to do so. But this had all been questionable enough as it was. He wouldn’t force her. He wasn’t even sure if she would obey him at knifepoint. Probably not. She seemed fearless in the face of death, proud and determined to do her duty, or die trying. His desire nearly overwhelmed him.

  Makkon glanced around the room, took a step, despite his downed trousers, and pulled down a towel hanging on a rack in the bathroom. He laid the knife on the dresser within reach, then grabbed his cock. Though it was distressing to have nothing more than his own grip upon it, it was still wet from her mouth, and he jerked his hand up and down easily, an old familiar practice. What was new was what lay in his view. Tamryn watched him from her wary crouch, ready to spring away if he attacked. Still, her gaze kept sliding to what he was doing, as if the sight of him drew her, even now.

  He watched her, his own gaze lingering on her breasts and her lips, drifting down to her crotch. He remembered her rubbing herself, and that memory fueled his desire as he pumped his hand up and down his straining cock. She glanced toward the rifles above the bed, and he almost grinned, wishing she would reach for one. Then he would have an excuse to leap onto her, pin her beneath him, and—

  No, you idiot, he thought, ashamed again of his fantasy. Just finish.

  He pulled the towel against himself before he came, pouring his release into the folds. It would have been so much sweeter to pour himself into her, but she glanced again at her rifles, and that didn’t seem likely.

  Sighing, Makkon put the towel aside and buckled his trousers. What had he expected when he had come here with her? Oh, he knew what his penis had wanted, but how would he have felt if it had actually gotten that? With a woman he’d drugged into liking him. Like the asshole she kept saying he was.

  “Come on,” he said, extending his hand toward her. Not that he expected her to take it. But he supposed he was tired of grabbing her and forcing her places. It had been nice walking side by side down the corridor with her leaning against him. And plotting his death, he reminded himself. “I’ll take you back to the others.”

  “I—”

  Makkon’s comm beeped, and she fell silent. He brushed the button. “Makkon, here.”

  “You with the girl?” Brax asked.

  He gritted his teeth, not liking the assumption, even if it was true.

  “I’ll take that belligerent silence as a yes,” Brax said. “Bring her up to the comm station. We’ve got a message I want her opinion on. She still drugged?”

  Makkon snorted. “I’m not sure it fully took.”

  “Well, bring her anyway. Maybe she’ll give us something. That ship’s on its way here.”

  Anticipation coursed through Makkon’s limbs, giving him something new to think about. A battle. With a military ship that might boast a crew of a hundred.

  As soon as Brax finished talking to him, he sent a system-wide message to the entire team. “We’ve got company on its way, hunters. Charge your weapons and get ready for a fight. Zar, you’ll stay on prison duty.”

  A disappointed yes-sir was nearly drowned out by the enthusiastic yes-sirs from the rest of the men. Even if this wouldn’t help them with their mission, and might get them killed, the men would find it more appealing than waiting around, picking at their fingernails. And maybe they would get another ship out of the deal.

  Tamryn hadn’t joined him of her own accord, so Makkon walked over and took her arm. Her scent flooded his senses as he drew close again. That awful cleaning solution still lingered about her, but it didn’t keep him from smelling something he had barely registered while he had been distracted with his own pleasure. The scent of her own arousal permeated her clothes. Did that mean everything hadn’t been an act? Or just that the effects of the drug had made her more easily excited by him than she normally would have been? Or maybe it meant nothing. As she’d said before, bodies were stupid. Given the wary glare she gave him as they headed for the door, she would probably say the same thing if he mentioned her scent. And she’d probably try to kill him again if she got a chance.

  Still, he couldn’t help but gaze wistfully over his shoulder as they walked out, wishing he could somehow make her want to invite him back to this room for real someday.

  Part 3: Pirates

  Chapter 12

  Tamryn let Makkon guide her to the Comm and Control room without struggling. What was the point? He’d taken her last weapon, her knife, and she hadn’t been able to grab anything else in her room.

  In truth, she did not feel like attempting anything, not after she’d tried to kill him and failed. He hadn’t spoken a word to her, other than to tell her they were leaving the room, but his reaction to her attempted murder still puzzled her. When he’d caught the knife just short of it cutting into the big artery in his leg, her heart had nearly stopped. She’d expected him to backhand her and send her flying across the room. Right before he killed her. Even if he hadn’t killed her, she’d been certain he would level some punishment at her. Yet all he’d done was stare at her, his big cock standing up like a flagpole. Then he’d finished working himself over, leaving her with a towel in need of laundry treatment and leaving her feeling... she wasn’t sure.

  She had a sense of indignity, that she should feel violated, but she probably would have felt horny if she hadn’t been fearing for her life. It was doubtlessly an aftereffect of the drug, but having someone staring at her—no, having him staring at her—and making her part of his fantasy, had been titillating. And damn that drug, she’d been horribly aroused when she had been trying to seduce him. That wasn’t like her at all. With previous boyfriends, she’d never particularly enjoyed oral sex, doing it more as a favor—and so she could get some in return—than out of any desire. Her response to him had surprised her because of its intensity. Maybe it was because he was the enemy and therefore dangerous. She didn’t know, but it’d been hard to pull out that knife. She couldn’t help but wonder if her body had betrayed her, if she’d hesitated to make the decision, and if that was why he had sensed the attack. He had certainly seemed duly distracted right before that.

  Makkon waved for her to enter Comm and Control first, and when she spotted Brax waiting inside, she made herself shove thoughts of sex aside. That this was on her mind at all in this situation made her feel so inept—so unprofessional—that shame filled her. It would have been better to be killed in the initial attack than to be turned into some conquest for one of the terrorists.

  When Brax faced them, his nose wrinkled. “You two smell like a damned orgy. D
on’t they have showers on this station?”

  His bluntness startled Tamryn, and increased her shame. It was bad enough that Makkon had to know how he affected her. To think that all of his men could tell, just from her scent...

  Makkon brushed her back with his hand. “Don’t mind him. He’s just jealous he wasn’t invited.”

  Brax grunted. “I would have been too professional to run off with a prisoner for a quick fuck.” He glanced at Tamryn’s chest. “Probably.”

  “What did you want her for?” Makkon asked, his voice cooling. He loomed closer to her, like an overprotective guard dog. “Besides to ogle her chest?”

  Tamryn’s cheeks flamed red, and she was glad when Brax turned his attention to the comm console. The man’s words about professionalism had clearly been a dig at Makkon, but they’d been like a knife to her heart too. Hadn’t she just been admitting how pathetically unprofessional she’d been with Makkon? What had she been thinking with the seduction plan? She was supposed to be a soldier, not a whore.

  “To watch this message.” Brax poked a button. The computer bleated at him. “Oh, I don’t know how to make it replay. I think she’s still got this locked down somehow.” He shot Tamryn a dark look.

  Normally, she would have told him to get stuffed, but she wanted to hear from that Fleet ship. She left Makkon’s side, realizing his hand had still been on her back. Dear Buddha, did he think of her as his now? After she’d tried to kill him? What a nut.

  Within seconds, Tamryn had the message playing. She straightened involuntarily as a graying man in crisp Fleet blacks came into view. He was freshly shaved, though in need of a haircut. Maybe the Felling Axe had been out on patrol for several months.

  “That the captain?” Brax asked her.