Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance)

by Veronica Scott

  A man could be content here, for a while anyway. Raising his eyes from Bithia’s hair for a moment, he watched the ocean. He’d get impatient soon enough, but right now, it was like being on a well-deserved leave.

  Bithia’s voice jarred him out of his reverie.

  “So you did wish to touch me? In the dreams?”

  “Of course.” He answered without thinking, then felt his face redden. He was glad she had her back to him. “I wished I could get close enough to offer comfort, human contact. I hated to see you, paralyzed and helpless on the damn, cold couch.” Truth, but not the whole truth.

  “Oh.”

  There was silence. Nate couldn’t decide if he’d answered her question the way she expected. I’m so ham-handed at expressing my emotions—I probably disappointed her. Not knowing what to say next, he finished the unbraiding and combed out the inevitable snarls with his hands, gently stroking through her hair like a ten-fingered comb, pausing from time to time to massage the back of her neck and head. All the while, he racked his brain for a way to start their conversation over again, to tell her what was in his heart where she was concerned. The last thing Nate wanted was to say something dumb or awkward. So he said nothing. He checked their mental link, glowing in the corner of his mind in the way he was now accustomed to. So we’re okay.

  Conversation with her—about anything—had been so damn easy in the dreamspace. Nate wished he could re-create the seamless state of rapport right now.

  “The massage is soothing,” she murmured, leaning against his chest, which effectively stopped him from doing the very thing she’d just said she enjoyed. He drew her close, and they sat, companionably leaning on each other.

  “You know, I can’t read them all.”

  Confused by the non sequitur, he asked, “Read all what?”

  “Your thoughts. I can’t read them all. I know my ability worries you. I know you don’t like to let anyone see what you’re thinking, or the depth of your emotions. Not Thom, not even me.” She faced him, her hair swinging softly around them both like a silken blanket. “I wish I understood what’s in your past making all the self-protection so essential. Maybe someday you’ll tell me. But it shouldn’t worry you so. There’s nothing to fear from either of us, you know. I think the sergeant would gladly die for you—I read immense loyalty in him.”

  “I’m not afraid.” His instant denial cut across her words about Thom. “I’m not used to talking about things. Feelings. It’s hard for me to do. Most of the time I manage to get along fine without having to talk about it.”

  “But in the healing chamber you expressed—”

  “The hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he said honestly. “I never said things like that to anyone before, not ever.”

  She rested her hand on his cheek. “I’m touched.”

  He knew her well enough by now to hear in her voice how genuinely pleased she was. The idea warmed his heart, but immediately he worried about disappointing her in the future. “Don’t expect self-revelation from me daily. I’m trying hard here, and I can’t promise any more,” he said a bit harshly.

  “I can only read the surface of what you think,” she went on, determined to reassure him about their mental link. “You have many barriers and blocks in your mind. I can’t go there, can’t see what you think behind them without your permission. Nor would I try, but I do sense them there.”

  “Was there someone on your expedition, or at home maybe—someone waiting for you?” He’d speculated during the long months of captivity.

  Now she was startled and sat up, turning to kneel before him as he unlocked his arms in automatic response to her movement. Resting her hands on his shoulders lightly, she looked him in the eyes. “No. I was too focused on my schooling, on being accredited for fieldwork, to be seriously involved with anyone. There were certainly interesting people in my life, but I assumed there’d be time for pursuing the happiness of a lifemate later. Why do you ask?”

  Uncomfortable as always with conducting a conversation that revealed his innermost emotions, he refused to meet her eyes. “I wondered.”

  “And you? Is there someone waiting for you in your Sectors, as you call them?” It seemed she’d been as curious about that subject when it came to his life. “Am I displacing someone who thinks she has your heart?”

  “No.”

  “I’d be sorry for her,” Bithia said, “but I wouldn’t step aside. You mean too much to me, our link is too tight.”

  “What I do for a living is dangerous. The Special Forces has a high mortality rate. I couldn’t ask anyone I cared about to sit and wait while I was on a mission, and then maybe I’d never come back, you know? A lot of Team guys wait until retirement to get serious about anyone.”

  “Was there ever someone who tempted you to change your mind?” Eyes narrowed, brow wrinkled, her face was set in serious lines.

  Nate lowered his own eyes, toying with a long curl of her hair, twining it between his fingers. “Not until I met you,” he said finally, meeting her steady gaze.

  Bithia raised a gentle hand to his cheek, lifted her chin and parted her lips, extending an unmistakable invitation. Without thinking about it at all, with no hesitation, because the time and the place were right, and this was the woman he loved with all his closely guarded heart, Nate leaned forward and kissed her.

  She smelled like fresh air and flowers and some exotic spice he couldn’t name. She placed her arms around his neck as he licked her lips, seeking entry. She parted for him, her tongue testing his tentatively at first, then drawing him farther into her warm mouth, adjusting her position to more effectively stroke and suck. His arousal hardened to steel as she shifted on his lap, her bottom pressing on him. He raised one hand to cup her breast through the thin fabric of the ancient nightgown, finding her nipple pebbled and hard under his thumb.

  So we’re more alike than we are different. As she spoke mind to mind, Bithia rolled her hips on his cock. She reached between their bodies with one hand, massaging him through the kilt before sliding her hand upward on his thigh, under the fabric, gripping him through the thin cotton loincloth.

  “Too many clothes,” she said aloud, breaking off the kiss. She climbed off his lap and reached for his hand. “I’ll never forget the first time I saw you in the chamber, half naked, in chains, full of anger, ready to seize any opportunity to fight for your life. Dangerous was the word that came to my mind. Then our minds linked, and I felt it here as well.” She laid a hand on the vee between her hips.

  In response to her tug on his hand, Nate rose. “Here?” he said, pulling her gown up to run his hand between her thighs and stroke his fingers through the soft curls and velvet skin, wet with desire for him. “Would this be the spot?” He inserted first one finger and then a second, massaging the delicate tissues and nerve endings.

  Bithia threw her head back, eyes closed. “The exact spot. You’ll have me screaming in a moment. It’s been so long since I—I experienced these sensations.”

  “There’s no rush. We have all day.” He withdrew his hand and picked her up, hands under the soft curves of her butt.

  “I’m the one who’s been waiting thousands of years for you to arrive and set me free,” she said with a smile, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I say enough anticipation.” She captured his mouth, tongue darting between his lips and exploring him boldly.

  He had to brace himself against the cottage wall as the embrace continued. His cock tented his kilt, aching to plunge into her. Breathing hard, he finished the kiss. “Shall we take this inside?”

  Bithia kissed his neck, alternating between featherlight caresses and tiny nibbles. She took his earlobe delicately between her teeth and murmured her pleasure. “What about Thom?”

  “He’s a smart guy. He knows his job is to stay at the fishing hole until he sees us again.” Making sure he had his balance under control, if not his raging hard-on, Nate carried her into the cabin, setting her on her feet inside the threshold. Atletl an
d Celixia had left the place neat, all the blankets folded away on the makeshift shelves. He grabbed the entire stack and spread them on the floor as there was no bed or even a thin mattress. Bithia helped him.

  “Not exactly where I’d have chosen for our first time together,” he said apologetically, reaching for her.

  She drew his tunic off over his head, tossing it aside. “The important thing is us, together, not the surroundings. Someday I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity for the flowers and silk sheets I see in your mind. Although I enjoy the mental pictures.” Head tilted, she batted her eyelashes at him, smiling. “You have quite the imagination.”

  “I’m not usually a romantic guy,” he said, struggling with the kilt, impatient to be free of the clothing. “You have that effect on me, though, and I like it.”

  Bithia ran her hand over his bare front, tracing his abs, moving her hand higher, pausing to tease his nipple for a moment. She frowned at his various scars. “Let me see your back.”

  He hesitated. “It’s not pretty.”

  She walked behind him, running her hand over the tattoo on his bicep and across his shoulder, maintaining contact. There was a gasp of indrawn breath, and he felt her lips brushing softly over the network of scarred, ravaged skin. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do a better job of healing you.”

  “Hey.” Turning, he clasped her hand, drawing her into his arms. “I’m fine. I wouldn’t be here if not for you, so I can stand the scars if you can.”

  Her eyes shimmered in the dim interior of the cottage. “Do they hurt?”

  “Not much, not enough to interfere with what I have in mind for today.” Nate nipped at her lips. “Help me with this?” He tugged at his loincloth, wanting her hands on his body.

  She obliged, taking her time undoing the knot, treating the task as foreplay, caressing his balls through the cotton before unwinding the fabric. She stepped out of reach as his cock jutted proudly. Head to one side, she surveyed him from head to toe, smiling.

  “Is admire all you’re planning to do?” he teased. “I’d like the same privilege, please.” He tugged at her nightgown. Obligingly, she raised her arms, and he pulled the garment over her head, placing it to the side, then removed the single sheer undergarment. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her skin smooth, lavender darkening to purple on her sides, between her legs, her nipples… Bithia cupped her own breasts for a moment, displaying them for his admiration. He placed his hands over hers, pushing the soft globes together, enjoying the feel of her ample charms overflowing his hands. Bending his head, he kissed the top of each breast and then sought her lips. She tasted of the berries they’d had for breakfast, sweet and tart all mixed together, and perfect.

  Locked in an embrace, they sank onto the piled blankets together. Bithia lay on her back to give Nate full access, and he caressed first one breast, then the other, relishing the lushness of her body underneath his. He kissed his way down her soft stomach before sliding one hand between her legs, finding her aroused and ready for him. Again, he inserted two fingers into her warmth and stroked, massaging the places where her reactions to his efforts indicated the most pleasure. Adding pressure to his hand with her own, Bithia moaned and arched, gripping him tightly to her as she climaxed.

  After the tremors of her orgasm subsided, he moved to cover her, the tip of his erection pressing against her soft folds. Nate guided himself inside, going slowly to allow her to adjust to him, biting his lip in an effort not to come too soon. She was tight and hot, and he’d never experienced anything so good. The urge to plunge into her and thrust with all his power was nearly irresistible, but he held himself in check. He didn’t want to rush this initial experience with her, and he very much wanted her to have all the pleasure he could provide, which required him to be patient.

  Bithia adjusted her position on the blankets, holding him locked to her body. She moved her hips, increasing the exquisite pressure on his erection, and he had to stop, holding himself motionless. “I’m too close,” he said in a whisper.

  “As am I,” she said, nibbling his earlobe. “Let this first time be a whirlwind, and we can take our pleasure more slowly the second time.”

  Freed from the need for rigid self-control, Nate drove deeper. Bithia met him move for move, her body welcoming his until he was convinced they were one person, moving in unison, the ecstasy building higher and higher between them until he lost himself in an intense and all-consuming release. He heard her saying his name, and in his mind there was a burst of beautiful lights and colors and sounds as she went rigid, locked on him in her own climax.

  They lay together for a few moments in silence, breathing hard. Bithia trailed her hand over his back, gently caressing the scars before stroking his butt. “You have amazing strength, my warrior.”

  “Just as well the machine kept a barrier between us before,” he said, rolling to the side. “We’d have shorted it out, if we’d done that in the dreamspace.”

  She laughed.

  It was late afternoon. Nate, Thom and Bithia had finished dining on fried fish that was caught in the pond. Thom had the small lake all to himself for quite a long time. The sergeant made no comment whatsoever when Nate and Bithia eventually strolled through the grassy dunes, hand in hand. He’d merely shown them his excellent catch and boasted about his rediscovered skills as a fisherman.

  They’d enjoyed a swim in the refreshing waters of the clear pond. Bithia was familiar with the concept and was a strong swimmer. Unembarrassed, she swam in her undergarment, having rinsed out her nightgown and spread it to dry on a nearby bush. Thom resolutely kept his eyes anywhere but in Bithia’s direction until she was dressed. He concentrated on gutting and cleaning the fish with his Talonqueni army knife while Nate and Bithia swam together. Later the three of them had gone to the cabin to cook the fish, of which there were now only spiny remnants.

  Nate suddenly moved to douse the fire.

  “Someone’s riding this way on the beach from the headland,” he said, pointing for the benefit of his less-farsighted companions. “I hope it’s Atletl and Celixia, but we can’t take chances. We’ll take cover in the dunes behind the hut until we’re sure.”

  A tense half hour ensued before it became apparent that Atletl and Celixia were inbound from a successful shopping expedition. Each was riding a kemat, with three others trotting obediently on a lead from Atletl’s saddle. One of the spare animals was loaded with baskets and sacks.

  “So Bithia’s jewelry and your coins were highly useful at the market, I gather,” Nate said to Celixia with admiration.

  “Indeed,” Atletl agreed. “I’m an excellent bargainer, of course.”

  “Any trouble?”

  Atletl shook his head. “None at all. Help us unload the kemat, and then we can talk.”

  As the men worked together to shift the baskets and sacks from the patient quadrupeds, Atletl told them that the lights Nate had glimpsed at the headland the night before were the outskirts of Poqueteele, a well-known deep-sea harbor city. The main part of the city was hidden from view beyond the curving coastline.

  “Our ending up here is excellent, because people are constantly coming and going, and a pair of strangers doesn’t excite as much interest as we might have caused in a true fishing village.”

  “A deep-water port?” Nate was surprised. “This country has trading partners?”

  Atletl and Celixia nodded. “Oh yes,” the priestess said. “There are several powerful countries across the ocean whose rulers don’t fear Sarbordon. There is Inshpan, for example, from whom we get wondrous fabrics for gowns.” She dimpled at Bithia and said teasingly, “None of which could we trade for today, my lady, due to your captain’s harsh order we must go dressed as peasants.”

  Bithia ran one hand over her lavender nightgown, now much torn. “I can’t feel too badly about not wearing something fabulous. I’ll be happy to have a pair of sandals and a decent skirt and tunic, I assure you. I certainly would have worn something more durable into t
he healing chamber, had I any idea of what I’d be doing when I walked out.”

  “Looks fine to me,” Nate murmured in her ear.

  “I traded for something else I think you’ll like.” Celixia went to her dappled brown and gray kemat. She unfastened a small sack from behind the simple saddle.

  There was a constant, faint air of tension between the two women, Nate noticed, as he had yesterday in the lab complex. On an intellectual level, he was sure Bithia realized she couldn’t blame Celixia for what her ancestors had done in terms of keeping Bithia imprisoned and forced to serve as an oracle. On the other hand, Celixia was the only visible clan member left. He admired the effort Bithia exerted not to be rude to Celixia, but the situation had to be stressful for both on some level.

  “What is it?” Nate caught a whiff of a warm, spicy smell that set his mouth watering.

  Bithia’s face lit up as the aroma wafted to her also. “Six-spice cakes? Don’t tease—tell me you got those?”

  Celixia nodded, apparently pleased with her find and their reactions to it. She handed the sack to Bithia, saying, “There’s a family legend about the original Hialar’s wife—”

  “Frantlia.” Bithia nodded and named the woman, a faraway expression on her face.

  “Yes, she supposedly baked a batch of these for you to eat after you’d consumed the contents of the red box. It was meant to celebrate your leaving the healing chamber, only of course, well...” Celixia fumbled to a halt and reddened.

  “Only I didn’t get out in time to eat them.” Bithia finished the story in a neutral tone. “These are delicious—I can’t thank you enough. You must all share with me.”

  “The cakes are baked for the Festival of T’naritza once a year in my village,” Atletl said with a mouthful of one of the pastries.

  “Aren’t these good?” Bithia shamelessly took her third one from Celixia’s seemingly bottomless sack.