by Cathryn Cade
Navos busied himself with his steaming coffee. His personal nemesis had better not be sleeping. He intended to work her rigorously. She must learn to exert perfect control of her talents. And, if his training had the added effect of discouraging her from wishing to work as an empath/intuit, that was all to the good. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about what havoc she was wreaking.
He rose abruptly and the two interns bounced out of their chairs as well, though they were not finished eating. He waved them back. “Finish your breakfast. You may review your notes from our session. I will see you both in my office in an hour.”
He strode off to the nearest elevator, skirting groups of passengers making their way to breakfast. As he rode up to the command deck, he summoned Nelah on his com-link. When she did not immediately answer, he opened the link anyway. This went against shipboard etiquette, but he didn’t give a damn for rules just now. A distant warning sounded in his mind at this, but he ignored it.
She lay in her narrow bunk in a boneless sprawl, her bare arms and one small foot protruding from the coverlet. Her face was soft, her lashes a dark fan on her cheeks. Just the way she’d looked in his bed, before he awakened her by slipping his hand under the covers. If he did so now, she would stir and then open her eyes and smile at him, a sleepy, inviting smile.
He watched her for a long moment, until the elevator stopped, jolting him out of his reverie.
“Ms. Cobalt,” he said clearly. “You are late.”
She started, her eyes opening to a blank blue stare. Then she frowned and lifted one hand to her head, as if it hurt. “Time izzit?” she mumbled.
“The work day has begun.”
She sat up slowly, her hand still to her head, her eyes heavy. The coverlet fell to her waist, revealing the tiny lace camisole that barely covered her breasts. He could see the shadow of her nipples through the lace, somehow more enticing than nudity.
Then she grabbed the blanket and jerked it up to her chin, staring at him—or his holo-vid image. She scrubbed one hand over her eyes, as if unable to believe she was awake.
“Daron?” she asked, her voice still husky with sleep. “What is it? What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
“No, although you’d have slept through it if anything had, wouldn’t you?” he asked.
“Oh!” she burst out. “Unfair! For your information, Commander, I was up most of the night shift, working. I only got to sleep a few hours ago.”
She threw back the covers and leapt out of bed, her face stormy. The last thing he saw was her hand covering the holo-cam. The image winked out, but not before he heard her mutter something uncomplimentary. It seemed to focus on his lineage, or lack thereof. He was surprised into a chuckle.
He strode down the passageway to his office, his bad mood gone. Up most of the night? Hah!
In the cubicle he’d assigned her, he brought up the roster. He would be calm but firm, of course, demonstrating how an Indigon mastered emotions, even when dealing with a lover.
When he saw where she’d left off, he frowned. Surely this could not be right. Anger tightened his jaw. To get this far in one session, she’d clearly raced along, doing only the most slipshod sort of work.
He used his powers to review what she’d done on the last passenger examined. He was surprised to find she’d done quite a decent job. Of course, she must have skipped around, trying to get away with doing a sampling.
She hadn’t.
Chapter Fifteen
Nelah hurried into Navos’s office, finger-combing her damp hair. Simmering with a strong sense of injustice at being wakened after so little sleep, she’d nevertheless leapt into the shower-dry, wriggled into the first clothing she saw and jogged to the elevator.
On the way up, she used her com-link to order breakfast delivered to his office. She was not eating any more of the dried food particles from the snack machine. Since she was paying for it, she wanted fresh food and real coffee.
Navos stood before her workstation. Heat curled through her at the sight of his lean body, the focused stance. She was baffled by her response—how could she be aroused by his concentration on a holo-vid display?
As the dark intensity of his gaze turned on her, her heart sank. “I…have not done as you expected?” she managed around the lump in her throat.
He straightened, with an ironic twist of his head. “As usual, no. You have done…much, much more.”
As she gazed at him, taken aback by his strange look, he gestured to the holo-vid display. “Nelah, you’ve accomplished in one night what took—ah, would take others nearly two days.”
“Oh.” Delight dawned, but she eyed him doubtfully. “You do not seem pleased by this.”
“That is unimportant,” he said coolly. “Your speed is further evidence of your need for discipline. Great talent requires great control.”
Heat roared through her again, but this time it was anger. She could feel her cheeks burning.
“I will learn control, Commander.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” He bowed ironically and turned to the door.
She scowled after him. “Don’t do that!”
“Do what?” He turned back, looking down his hawk nose at her.
She waved her arms. “You don’t…respect me,” she said. “You didn’t believe me when I told you I had strong powers. Now that you know I do, you still…” She struggled for words. “It seems no matter what you learn about me, you find me lacking.”
She felt her cheeks burn as he stared down at her, his eyes narrowed. But then he astonished her by nodding shortly.
“I apologize. I have not explained myself well.” He paced over to the porthole and looked out at the stars for a moment, then turned back to her.
At that moment, the hatch opened and a large covered tray floated into the room, followed by a smiling crew member.
“Morning, Commander, Miss,” she said. “Breakfast is served.”
“Thank you,” Nelah said. “Please place a credit on your account for your service.”
“Yes, Miss. Thank you.”
Nelah turned to Navos, who looked taken aback. Well, let him. She had certain standards. “Have you eaten?” she asked politely.
“Yes, thank you.”
She pushed the button to open the tray cover and picked up the carafe of coffee.
“Well, I’m starving. Please, have a cup of coffee with me.”
He took a steaming mug from her and she sat, pulling the tray toward her. Picking up a large muffin, she took a dainty bite.
“Now,” she said. “You were saying?”
He stared down at her. Slowly, his mouth curved up at the corners. He sat in the other chair and leaned back.
“I was explaining myself to you,” he said drily.
“Not a common experience?” she asked innocently, before taking another bite. The muffin was delicious.
His eyes narrowed. “Do not push your luck.”
“No, sir.”
She listened and ate as he began to speak. It was more of a lecture, really. She felt as if she were back in class at the university, listening to one of his holo-vids. Men, she reflected as she ate and listened, nodding when appropriate, really did like to hammer a point home. Fortunately, she just loved the sound of his deep voice.
She leaned over to refill his cup and sat back with her own, ready to listen to further embellishments on Why Indigons Must Maintain Control of Their Powers at All Times.
Navos was interrupted, after his second cup of excellent coffee, by his com-link. It was just as well, because he’d made his point and was beginning to entertain thoughts of perhaps communicating with his audience on a much more basic level. She looked so damned lovely sitting there listening to him attentively across the breakfast table, just like a wife.
With a bachelor’s relief, he escaped this shocking idea and reported to the command deck to find Halix and Qwerx already there. Their round lavender faces were grave as they bowed politely in greeting.
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“You have further information,” Navos said flatly, foreboding filling him.
The two looked at each other. Halix nodded and Qwerx turned back to Navos.
“Yes, Commander. Our investigation of the Mazarin Clinic has uncovered there is still a connection between the clinic and your university. Two years ago, a research project on the effects of inhaled moon-weed dust on the mind was abandoned. The head of the project said it failed to perform as he’d posited. He was very puzzled by this, as the research did not seem to add up. Shortly afterward, the Mazarin Clinic debuted a nearly identical product. It has been hugely successful as a non-addictive calming agent.”
“Mazarin has found another dupe in the university.”
“I think perhaps a willing compatriot this time,” Qwerx said. “The research professor had no contact with the clinic, nor did any of his graduate assistants.”
“So it must be someone else,” Navos finished. “Someone with access to project information.”
Qwerx nodded.
“You’ll find him—or her.”
“Yes, Commander. Perhaps you have advice for where we might look next?”
Cyan’s smirking face flashed into Navos’s mind. Reluctantly, he shook his head. The man might wish to irritate him, but no evidence suggested more than that.
“Look at all the other research that has been done, is being done. Compare it to Mazarin products marketed.” He frowned, remembering a recent rumor he’d heard from a friend still teaching. The two of them had shared a fairly scathing amusement at the notion. “Also…it is far-fetched and yet, I feel I ought to mention it.”
“Yes, sir?” Qwerx leaned forward, black eyes alert.
“Ah…there have been rumors that a technique may have been discovered to create a brain implant, such as the one used on the Bluet boy. Only now from biotic material. Surely improbable, I know, but…”
Halix and Qwerx stared at him, then at each other. Halix was known as an inventor himself and had patented several ingenious gadgets. He and Navos had devised the mind-scan unit crew members had to go through before each voyage. It was a longer process than the one passengers went through.
“Do you believe it is possible, Commander?” Halix asked.
“It is…possible,” Navos said reluctantly. “There are ways to grow cell tissue in patterns, which can then be manipulated, much like the mechanical implants. But, really, I find it unlikely. I certainly have not heard of anyone having success with it…yet.”
“A biotic implant,” Qwerx said. “Diabolical. How would one discover such a thing?”
The three of them gazed at each other, the same grim foreboding on each face.
On the Orion’s maiden voyage, a terrorist had sabotaged the great ship with a bio-bomb in her auto-navigation system. He’d rendered her, for several terrifying hours, a useless, floating hulk, until the Tyger navigator had used his cunning and skill to rescue her.
But a bio-bomb was actually a simple, inert mix of chemically enhanced biotic organisms. When triggered, they exploded into exponentially enhanced growth. The resulting mass of foaming slime gave off acids which destroyed any electronic or computerized equipment they contacted.
A biotic brain implant could be minute. Nearly impossible to discover.
Nelah was exhausted. Her head ached, her body ached and her mind…her mind felt as if it had been scraped raw by some fiendish force.
She slumped over the desk, her head pillowed on her arms, eyes closed. It had been a long, grueling shift, but she was finished with the passenger roster. And she’d found nothing. Oh, there were miscreants, perverts and crooks aboard the Orion, but none who were intent on harm while en voyage.
Something bothered her. In her work, she’d slowly realized at least some of the minds she’d intuited already bore traces of Indigon power. A fine spoor of wielded intuition had dusted them. Navos must have done a cursory search, a random sampling. Probably standard procedure. And he was trusting her to do the detailed search. Yes, that must be it. She would rest and then ask.
Stumbling to her feet, she stretched mightily. She needed a meal, a shower-dry and then a long, long sleep. And she was turning her com-link off this time, so he could not wake her until she was ready to wake.
Sometime later, Nelah threw back the coverlet and slipped out of her bed. She staggered, so tired she could barely find the control plate on the hatch. But she had to go to Navos…had to. There was no rest, for even in her dreams he pursued her. She’d tossed and turned, writhing in invitation as he stood over her, only to have him beckon her to follow him and then disappear.
She trailed across the passageway to the elevator and rode it up to the next level, then made her way along to the officers’ quarters.
She turned the bend in the passageway to his room and then stopped, leaning against the wall, her head falling against the smooth surface. Scrubbing a fretful hand across her face, she gazed at his door.
What was she doing here? Chasing after a man who had been nothing but honest with her from the beginning—any relationship other than sex was unlikely between them.
If only she wasn’t so tired, she could consider why this was a very bad idea. But she couldn’t think—could only feel. Her psyche was raw and exposed and only he could soothe it.
And then the hatch slid open and he stepped out. Clad only in lii silk pants of dark blue, he was a creature of moonlight and dreams, his lean, pale body gleaming in the soft light.
His eyes burned a path down over her body, inadequately covered by her lii silk nightie.
“I dream of you,” she accused, her voice husky with sleep. “I can’t…rest.”
“And I of you,” he mused. “And do you know what you said to me, in my dream?”
She shook her head without lifting it. His words jolted through her in a hot, dark current. He’d dreamed of her too?
“You said, ‘Let it be as you wish, Commander.’”
Her breath caught, at the memory of when she’d last said those words to him. It had been after their night of uninhibited lovemaking.
“And do you know what I said to you?” he went on, in that same dark, intimate tone. “‘Then come to me, little flower.’”
She turned her face against the wall, a vain attempt to hide from hearing the sexual endearment uttered aloud. She was not his ‘little flower’, his concubine, she was an independent woman. Why then, did she continue to lean against the wall, instead of turning away from him?
“I just want to sleep.” But even she heard the lack of conviction in her voice. Her eyes drifted down his body, stopping at the beguiling sight of his penis clearly outlined in his snug lii silk pajama pants.
“So do I,” he said, a wry note entering his voice. “But it seems neither of us can, when we’re within psychic range.”
“Not my fault,” she said. “It’s because you—you insisted on…coming inside my mind, as you did my body.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, as the heated memories arced across the few feet between them, kindling an indigo fire in his eyes. Her nipples pearled and her pussy tightened, then seemed to melt, along with her already unsteady legs.
“Perhaps it’s because you enjoyed it so very much.” He was giving her that hooded look that excited her beyond reason, knowing it meant he was considering just what he wanted to do with her.
“In any case, we called each other this time,” he said. “And I came. So did you. And I’m going to make you come again…and again.”
With suffocating excitement she watched him saunter toward her. But the look of arrogant certainty in his eyes sparked defiance.
“Perhaps I will make you come again and again, Commander.”
“I fervently hope so.” He bent and swept her up into his arms and carried her into his room.
He kissed her, thoroughly, as the hatch hissed shut behind them. Her hand lifted to his cheek. She kissed him back, surrendering to the magic even as a small sob caught somewhere in her breast. If this was all she
could have of him, so be it.
He bore her down into the bed, his warmth and scent rising to enfold her. Nelah cupped his head in her hands, her fingers slipping luxuriously through his short hair. He stroked her cheek with a sweep of his thumb, his hand cupped around the side of her head.
“So delicate,” he whispered inside her mind. In her sleepy, aroused state, she wasn’t even surprised to find him there. But she flinched at the psychic touch on raw, overexposed nerves. She felt his pause and then his anger. “No wonder you are so exhausted. You’ve seriously overextended yourself,” he snapped aloud.
She would have answered, but she was distracted by his kisses. Then a smooth current of power poured across her psyche. It was delicious, warm and soothing. It lapped at the rawness, in a rhythmic pattern, like the surging of waves on the sea, so when he pushed up her nightgown with a gentle sweep of his warm palm and thrust carefully inside her, she was lost in pleasure.
“Daron…”
“Shhhh,” he murmured tenderly. “Just feel.”
Since he was so big and hard inside her, raking delicate tissues made for his touch, she could do nothing else. Soft cries forced their way up her throat and she let them. He shuddered, galvanized by her pleasure, and took her harder, until she was lost in that dark magic place where all that existed were their two bodies and minds, locked together in ecstasy.
She came, her body clasping his in secret shivers of delight.
With a deep groan, he rolled, still inside her, onto his back. He tugged at the nightie and she lifted her arms to let him pull it off.
“Again,” he demanded. “I want to feel your surrender again, little flower.”
“Yes.” She rose up and slid down on his rigid penis as he guided her, his hands on her hips. She looked down at him, feeling as if she were riding a dangerous male creature that might as easily overpower her as allow her to pleasure herself on him.
His gaze slid down over her, tracing every inch of her as she rose and fell on him. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him watching his penis slide in and out of her pussy. His eyes were heavy, his nostrils flared, his face a mask of passion.