Liberating her arms, he slid his hands down her sides, feeling every curve as if she were a prize more valuable than any he had ever lifted for profit. She dug her fingers into his rumpled hair and grabbed fistfuls of the thick, smooth strands, clutching and unclutching her hands, letting go at last to move her restless fingers to his shirt. He helped her, unfastening it and shrugging it off his shoulders.
Exploring the hard contours of his chest and abdomen, she reveled in his strength while he undid her trousers and yanked them off. With her legs freed, she wrapped them around his hips and pulled his head to hers once again, seeking his lips with hers. He obliged, and she moaned when she felt his ragged breath and the heat that flowed from him in trembling waves. But the insistence of his hardness against her as he clasped her from behind and pulled her to him quickly replaced every other sensation, and all she knew was his need, his hunger, and the anguish that sought release.
Something deep inside her was yearning to explode, something as primitive as the landscape that surrounded them, something that drove her to release his lips and mouth his name into his ear. He answered her plea, urgently tugging the remaining clothing from their bodies. She jerked when the warmth of his fingers touched the liquid heat between her legs, and when his hand probed deeper into the part of her that ached to explode, she pushed against him, moving her legs to open herself more to him.
Then before another plea could be made, before her rational mind understood what was happening, he was inside her, a half-cry, half-moan accompanying the hard thrust she thought would pierce her heart. Deep inside her, he held himself still as he clutched her to him, and she felt a wetness on her face that startled her before the movement of his body inside hers tore all else from her.
He pushed into her again and again, each driving thrust harder and deeper than the one before, accelerating to a rhythm that took her to a place beyond thought, beyond reality, to a place where there was only sensation, as in a dream, where everything was wilder, more vivid, and more perfect than life. Where anything and everything was possible, and where every wish was answered. Pain became pleasure, hunger became passion, and finally, when even the dream images became so distorted they burst in an explosion of color behind her eyes, she found her release. His immediately followed, and as their bodies stilled and their breathing returned to a more normal state, she saw him above her, his broad chest and muscular arms gleaming with sweat. She blinked and realized she was seeing him through tears stuck on her lashes like dew.
Reality set in with a shiver of cold that shook her as her body cooled, and she wondered, for the first time, what she had done.
As his shudders died away, he turned to the side a little, still inside of her, still holding her, but taking some of his weight from her. As her mind and breathing slowed, she fought the ridiculous impulse to cry. He had made love to her with a passion she had feared would never be possible with this man, and she was overwhelmed by the emotions that flowed with a force and speed that frightened her. She willed her mind to empty itself, and as it did, he pulled out of her and rolled completely off her. The contact of his body gone and her mind freed, she was immediately assailed by thoughts that flew at her like fears on a dark night—powerful, insistent, and not to be denied.
What would he do now? Push her aside as he had done before? Respond with a cold silence? He was sure to be angry with her for tearing such a huge rent in his armor.
He got up and, without a word, trod down to the pool. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing, hoping to relax her mind. She’d done it. It was over, and there was no undoing what had been done. All she could do now was pray that her plan had worked. If it would keep her safe, keep her from being sold, it would be worth the price she’d paid.
A few moments later, he returned and stretched out again beside her. He looked at her with vertical lines stitched between his brows.
“What is it? Did I hurt you?” he asked.
His soft voice and gentle words gave her hope her prayers had been answered, and with that hope, all her emotions rushed forward. She hid her eyes behind the palms of her hands and tried to hold back the tears that pressed forward.
“Dina, look at me. If I hurt you, I need to know. I also need you to know that it was not my intent to . . . Dammit, Dina . . .”
She shook her head and looked at him, reaching out to touch the rough face. “No, no, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just that . . .” She could hardly admit her scheme to him, so she asked a question of her own instead.
“Kylariz. Do you have a given name?”
“Alecto. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She prayed he couldn’t read any of her thoughts. “Does anyone ever call you by your given name?”
“Only those who feel no need to ask me silly questions. Stop changing the subject. Tell me why you look like I just cut you to the quick.”
She sighed. “It’s nothing. You just surprised me. After the way you acted earlier, I didn’t except so much . . . passion.” No lie there.
He exhaled slowly. “The days in the Megaera, on Ror after we landed . . . I never meant to treat you so harshly. It’s . . . well, it’s been a long time since a woman has meant anything to me. Anything at all. Years ago I swore I would never let a woman get to me like . . . Never mind, it was a long time ago.”
“Can’t you talk about her? I think it would make it easier for you.”
“You don’t—”
She swiftly cut him off. “I know.” Maybe a different tactic would work. “I don’t know anything about you. You’re right. Forget I asked.” She couldn’t help but feel that getting him to open up would benefit her situation. It was worth the shot to try.
He turned onto his back and ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath.
She waited. Either he’d share his past, or he wouldn’t. Her patience was rewarded.
“Her name was Axial. She was . . . the one. The one woman in my life I loved like no other. We worked together for years. We traveled together, laughed together, experienced new worlds together. Then we were separated for a long time. I thought I’d never see her again, but then, miraculously, I found her, and the joy I felt at our reunion, after so long, is something neither I, nor the best storyteller in the universe, could ever describe to you.”
Dina leaned her elbow on the ground and propped her head with her hand, watching his face as intently as she had when he’d spun her one of his stories. But this was not the master storyteller at work. This was a man trying to recount the most painful, intimate events of his life to a woman he barely knew. She’d pushed him in order to gain his trust so he wouldn’t sell her, but his story moved her more than she thought it would.
His words were hesitant, and his voice shook, but he continued. “I was . . . I was a pilot on a sentinel ship on the Xegesis frontier. It was a lonely existence until I was reunited with Ax. Then I threw regulations to the winds and took her and my ship into the Red Zone to a small outpost that catered to, well, shall we say, any and all forms of pleasure. It was a mistake.” Dina watched his eyes, which were focused light years away, slowly close.
Please, Gods, don’t let him shut down now.
He swallowed hard, and his eyes opened again to cast to the heavens. “A mistake. I had a skeleton crew. We all shuttled down to the outpost. And then everything went wrong. The Synergy had no jurisdiction in the Red Zone, but they came. They came. I’ve told myself over and over that I don’t know why. I’ve tried to convince myself that maybe they came to try out new weaponry, or that maybe their captain had an itch. Sometimes it’s easier to accept not knowing than it is to accept the truth. Well, we weren’t supposed to be there, and they weren’t supposed to be there—but there we all were, sworn enemies, every one of us. All hell broke loose, and the outpost was decimated. Not only my crew, but everyone there. Two hundred and fifty-eight sou
ls. I . . . I was wounded, very badly. I couldn’t help Ax, but Dhagaz could have. He could have saved her. I begged him to spare her. Instead, he laughed at me. Laughed and executed her before my eyes.”
The Dhagaz from his nightmare. “Dhagaz?” she prompted softly.
“Duguerra Dhagaz. He’s a bootneck in the ISD—a commander now—with the finest ships in the fleet at his disposal. Then, he was but an unimportant recon ship captain posted on the frontier. Hardly a plum job, but Dhagaz found a way to mold a reputation from the blood of the Red Zone.”
“I don’t understand. If the Syn was your enemy, why would you expect a Syn captain to save Ax?”
He turned, and the cold touch of his gaze skimming her face gave her the chills. It seemed as if all the softness that had filled them a moment ago was as far away as the stars he had been seeing in his mind. “It would have been the humane thing to do. But I forget. You were Syn law. Everything is black and white to all of you, isn’t it? An enemy is an enemy is an enemy.”
“I don’t believe in wanton killing of any kind. I never have, and I don’t know any Syn agents who do. It just seemed a strange statement for someone as . . . hardened as you seem to be.”
Kyl’s gaze refocused on the heavens, and for long heartbeats, he was silent. “I did change. Quite radically. The sentinel pilot died. The same ashes of the Crimson Rain that made Dhagaz gave birth to the Phoenix—the man you see before you now. The man who vowed he would never again love anyone the way he loved Axial.” He shifted his arms and cocked his head to the side. “Not that many women have wanted to get close to me. What female in her right mind wants anything to do with a raider with a face like this?”
“It’s a beautiful face,” she said absently, smiling, but her mind was trying to tie together the pieces of his story and fit it with what had already happened. “After you took me off the Palladia, you and Rhoan were rejoicing when you first spotted the Syn ship coming after you. I thought that was strange at the time. A Syn ship is something a raider should fear, but you were celebrating, at first, anyway. Then, it was as though you realized it was the wrong ship, and that’s when you tried to escape in the drop ship.”
He turned toward her and lowered his hands from behind his head. “Quite perceptive. And quite a feat for someone locked in a cabin a deck below. How did you hear us?”
If he only knew. Keeping her ability secret was a habit and one she wasn’t about to divulge. “You were loud. And I was listening very intently. It was to my advantage to find out what was happening.”
“So you say. Well, you’re right. I thought the Syn ship coming after us was Duguerra’s ship.”
“Is that what drives you? Revenge? You sail the heavens hoping to find the man who killed your woman? And what, kill him? Just what will you accomplish with that?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“I accept change. There’s no harmony without disharmony. No creation without destruction. Destiny was written in the Crimson Rain, and I helped write it. But it was wrong. Dhagaz made history, and he went on making it—destroying outposts, killing innocent people. He was rewarded. Promoted. He doesn’t deserve the rank and respect he garnishes. I need to right the wrong, Dina. It’s my responsibility. He’s a butcher, and someday everyone will know it. And someday he’ll meet the fate he deserves.”
No, something wasn’t right. The pieces turned in her head, and where one turning produced a jumble, another turning made sense of the puzzle. Of course. “No, I didn’t have it exactly right, did I? You don’t search for Dhagaz. You let him come to you. That’s why you chose this profession. If you become notorious enough, embarrassing enough to the Synergy, they’ll send their best ships after you, won’t they? And that’s why you took me off the Palladia. Dealing in ‘cold cargo,’ as you call it, wasn’t getting the job done.”
He turned and rolled on his side so that he was pressed against her again. He stroked her face with his large hand, then trailed the back of his hand down to her breast, caressing its pink peak. His touch tightened the soft skin into a hard bud, and as he raised his head, their gaze locked.
“I’ll bet you made one hell of an investigator. You’re right, up to a point. But whatever my original intentions, when I saw you asleep in that hibernation pod, I knew I was in trouble. I knew better, but there was no way I could have left you on that ship. I told myself that you were bait for Dhagaz, as you say, but . . .” He closed his eyes, his hand still cupping her breast. “Xe a che, I want you again already.”
She couldn’t refuse him now. She’d laid her course. She leaned forward to kiss his mouth. “That should not be a problem,” she breathed into his mouth. But even as her lips touched his, scraps of his story still teased her mind, not fitting into the pattern. What made Dhagaz and Kylariz enemies in the Red Zone? Weren’t they all Glacians? Kyl had said he was a pilot then, not a criminal. But the questions were soon brushed aside by more demanding sensations.
He made love to her again, less hurried this time, but just as passionate. She accepted the physical pleasure he gave her, but took even more joy in the fact that he’d been able to unleash himself, at least for a while, from his pain.
Afterward, he brought her food and water, and as the tiny sun rolled on the ring of the horizon, she curled against him, her back pressed to his chest, his powerful arms wrapped protectively around her. On a desolate world, camped outside a city peopled with aliens and outlaws, tomorrow as uncertain as the next year, yet she felt safe with him.
She shifted her position, and he watched her face intently.
“You’ve tried very hard to hide it from me,” he whispered, “but I’ve seen your anguish. I know there were times I didn’t treat you kindly, but I’m not so arrogant as to believe that all those tears you tried so hard to hold back were because of me.” When she remained silent, he pressed further. “You have someone waiting for you on B’harata, don’t you?”
She could only nod, her throat tight.
“B’harata is a hell of a place for a rendezvous. Almost as bad as the Red Zone.”
“It’s his home,” she said, the words catching in her throat.
“A dens? Your lover?”
She nodded again. “I seem to have an affinity for dark outworlders and outlaws.”
“I admit I have no love for the dens. The ones I’ve run across have been arrogant, ruthless bastards, with nothing but bagfuls of tricks and self-inflated egos. They have no idea what true power is. Even so, it amuses me no end that the Synergy has the gall to label beautiful people like the Xegen and gentle creatures like shapeshifters as dangerous ‘dark outworlders’ and ban them from Synergy worlds, while their own people practice genocide.”
She was silent as she considered his words. She’d never heard any of her countrymen talk like this. Once again she wondered about his roots. “It’s strange to hear a Glacian speak so.”
“I’ve spent very little time on Glacia. For the past fifteen years I’ve been roaming the Synergic frontier, and before that, the Xegesis frontier. Glacia’s never been home. This dens of yours—is he worthy of you?”
She smiled at his expertise in shifting the subject away from himself. The small dip of her head was her only answer.
She turned to face him, brushing the hair from his face and fingering the long sideburns. “Rayn is lost to me. Unless, of course, you’d care to put me on a ship to B’harata?”
He laughed. “Firstly, I’ve not a ship. Secondly, I have plans, and they don’t include traveling to the far side of the galaxy.” He stroked her face with the back of his hand. “’Sides, Hellfire, you’re mine now.”
Mine now. Mission accomplished. Her survival seemed ensured. And yet, she found it impossible to celebrate. Rayn was indeed lost to her.
Chapter Eight
The Run
SA
GE STRETCHED out on one of the divans that occupied the second level sitting room. Rayn paced. His belly was satisfied, but his mind hungered for a solution.
“You realize what our biggest problem is going to be,” said Sage.
“Ummm. Legally, I can’t leave B’harata,” answered Rayn.
“That’s the problem. But there are legal ways and not-so-legal ways.”
He caught Sage’s eye. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll do whatever best serves me, legal or not. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do. But don’t make that decision hastily, Rayn. Whether or not you locate Dina, you’ll have to live with the consequences of your actions. I speak from experience. Thirsty, cousin?”
Rayn nodded. “Gods, yes. And I know about consequences. If I can’t return to B’harata, there are other alternatives.” He debated the truth of his words even as he spoke them. Did he really know about consequences? Except on Exodus, had he ever paid the cost of his actions? After Flyr had been killed, he’d stayed on B’harata long enough to perfect the killing arts of the dens, but then he’d run, unable to face Ryol or his family. Would escape be his response again if the rescue attempt went badly, or would he stand and face certain criminal charges?
“I’ll have Cyonne bring us brandy, and we’ll talk about this more. I just want to make sure you realize what you’re committing yourself to.”
“I know what I’m facing, believe me. I’ve done this before, as you have.”
“An advantage, I would say, for both of us,” said Sage.
Silence crept into the small room. Both. Rayn’s eyes sought those of the other man and the truth behind the simple words.
Sage. You would come with me? Beyond the Grid? Even if we have to circumvent the law to do so?
Yes. I’ve thought about it. I don’t envision you accomplishing your goal without help.
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