by Cynthia Sax
Warlord Unarmed
Cynthia Sax
When Murad, a powerful and deadly Warlord, arrives to repair Gale’s beloved ship, she doesn’t like it one bit. She sees the danger lurking behind his wide, sexy smile and the temptation in his coarse touch. He stands too close. He smells too good. He muddles her mind with erotic thoughts no bounty hunter should ever entertain.
Murad is known for being lighthearted…until he meets Gale. He’s deadly serious about seducing the curvaceous bounty hunter. With one blast of her stun gun, she captures his attention and starts his lust burning. To claim Gale for his mate, Murad will brave his cautious female’s itchy trigger finger, his overbearing older brother and even his own sense of duty.
A Romantica® futuristic erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Warlord Unarmed
Cynthia Sax
Chapter One
Gale lay chest down on the cold metal floor, her arms stretched out before her. “We’re running out of time,” she told her non-functioning single-manned ship. “If I don’t figure out how to repair you soon, that annoying Warlord Zeta sent will insist upon helping.”
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, viewing Murad’s impending invasion of her beloved sanctuary as a bigger threat than the possible failure of the ship’s life support systems.
“So come on, hon. Work for me.” Gale jiggled the cable leading to the ship’s power converter, hoping to reactivate the process.
Nothing happened.
“Ohhh…” A strangled sound came from her constricted throat.
Behind the captain’s console, a brightly colored drawing covered a large silver wall panel, the green-haired female in the child artist’s depiction sporting a toothy grin.
“Continue smiling and I’ll banish you from the bridge for insubordination,” Gale warned, her words echoing in the empty space, the main viewscreen closed to preserve energy, and the ship’s guidance system eerily silent.
Only the primitive crank-powered communicator set by her booted feet crackled. She’d found the ancient device crammed into one of her overstuffed storage chambers and she wished now she hadn’t used it, hadn’t called for help.
“You have to work, baby.” Gale ran her fingers over the power converter, searching for defects and finding none. “Please. I don’t want him on my ship.”
She clasped a fastening tool and frantically tightened each joint, aware that Murad’s ship hovered too close to hers, the Warlord growing increasingly impatient with the delays. He had other things he could be doing, he’d told her, and had only agreed to assist her with the repairs as a favor to Zeta, his brother’s mate.
“If Zeta had contacted me as she’d promised, I wouldn’t be in this mess,” Gale muttered, feeling foolish for having flown across numerous galaxies to rescue a friend who didn’t need rescuing.
“And I don’t require Murad’s or any other being’s help with repairs. I’ll fix my ship myself.” She pressed her hand against the reset panel.
The power converter didn’t activate, the silence ominous.
“No. No. No. No.” She slapped the reset panel again and again, venting her frustration on the device, her palm stinging with the impact.
The ship shuddered and the collection of broken toys covering the console rattled. The hoarded objects had been obtained over the many solar cycles from the bounty-hunter-school students she spent all her credits supporting.
“Go away,” Gale snapped, the thought of being trapped on a small vessel with an unfamiliar male warrior filling her with alarm.
“I’ll go away once your ship is fully functional,” the Warlord informed Gale via the communicator, his low, deep voice causing her heart to race, a physical reaction she’d long associated with fear. “Prepare to be boarded.”
“I don’t need to be boarded,” she snapped, irritated at Murad’s arrogance and disgruntled with Zeta for forcing her to deal with the strange male, her friend not caring enough to come herself.
Gale pushed away the pain of that rejection and concentrated on the broken power converter. “This is my ship. I’ll fix it.” The lights flickered, the ship’s alternative energy source quickly depleting.
“You’ve had three planet rotations to fix your ship, stubborn female.” Murad punctuated that dry observation with a pussy-moistening chuckle, his constant mirth and her inappropriate physical reaction to it irritating Gale even more. “Now it’s my turn. Open your doors.”
“Open them yourself.” Gale pushed her curvy form upright and scrambled to her feet. Murad would have to open the doors manually, her single-manned ship barely having enough energy to run the life-support systems. She dusted off her knees and focused on the new threat.
He’ll come through the bridge’s main doors. Gale surveyed the array of weapons, restraints and defensive devices she always kept close at hand. And when he does, I’ll stop him, preventing him from touching my ship, my home. Sucking in her breath, she strapped her formfitting pink body-armor around her generous chest, preparedness being a bounty hunter’s best weapon.
Zeta might trust Murad. Gale slid guns and daggers into the holders decorating her pink armor-clad thighs, the weapons reassuringly heavy. But she also believes she’s in love with his brother. Clearly she’s not thinking rationally. She crouched by the door, her form shielded by a console.
Love at first sight. She snorted, that fantastical explanation too implausible even for her reckless friend. They must have drugged her.
Metal screeched, the sound muffled by distance, and she raised her favorite gun, aiming toward the closed doors, her body vibrating with anticipation.
“You won’t drug me, Murad,” Gale vowed. She caressed the barrel of the gun with her fingers, relishing the weight and feel of the weapon. The metal was engraved with Lokan flowers and birds, the piece being both beautiful and functional. “You won’t get near me.”
Boots rang against the corridor’s wire-mesh floor, the heavy tread announcing the approach of her intruders. Gale’s muscles contracted and she stilled, becoming hyperaware of her surroundings, every sound and every scent amplified. She smelled the engine lubricant on her skin, heard the rush of air through ventilation shafts, the footsteps of the Chamelewarriors as they neared the doors to the bridge.
“Stop,” Gale ordered. She brushed her fingers over the gun’s trigger, prepared to defend herself with force if necessary. “Come in slowly, unarmed, one at a time, with your hands raised and your palms empty.”
“I’m alone,” one of her unwanted visitors growled.
Gale’s nipples tightened, pressing against the restrictive body armor, her body recognizing Murad’s deep tones. “So you say,” she mumbled, maintaining her battle stance, having learned as an orphaned child not to believe in words.
“And I’ll be unarmed in a heartbeat.” The doors opened. A huge sword slid through the entrance, its blade gleaming and its handle intricately engraved, the weapon decorative and deadly. A dizzying assortment of daggers and guns followed the sword, the advanced gear skittering along the floor, metal clinking against metal. “I didn’t know I’d require an arsenal to do you a favor.” Murad’s distinctive laughter rolled over Gale, and her stomach fluttered.
With fear. I fear him. Gale flipped her gun’s setting to stun, killing Zeta’s new friend unfortunately not an option. “You’re doing Zeta a favor, not me.”
“This favor is for my brother.” A breathtakingly handsome male stepped out of the shadows. “And his gun is bigger than yours.” He grinned at her, his white teeth flashing in a flawless, tanned face, his black eyes glinting, his long black hair cascading down his bare shoulders. He wore tight leather leg coverings with matching boots and had a pack slung over one shoulder. His muscular chest was bare, d
efined and perfect.
This is Murad? Gale’s mouth dried and her heart raced, a pulse of savage want and uncontrollable need coursing through her sex-deprived body. If the two brothers look alike, they wouldn’t have needed to use drugs to enthrall Zeta. My impetuous friend would have gone with Khan willingly, foolishly risking her heart, her life, her future for a fast fuck.
I won’t be as easy to enthrall. Gale straightened, not trusting her emotions and certainly not trusting the big Warlord. “If I shoot you with my smaller gun, you’ll still be dead.” She aimed the gun at him, proud of how steady her hands were, many solar cycles of chasing fugitives across the universes having refined her control.
“That’s true.” Murad’s gaze swept her from head to feet, pausing on her breasts and hips and then returning to her face. “My adorable little bounty hunter.” He inhaled, his chest rising and his nostrils flaring. His mouth twisted into an even sillier smile. “My curvaceous gerel,” he purred, his voice mind-numbingly soft.
He won’t use that sexy voice to capture me. Gale narrowed her eyes, fighting the desire Murad invoked, her lust being a weakness, a weapon he could use against her. “I’m not your anything.”
“You’re correct. You’re not my anything. You’re my everything,” Murad replied, his words infused with passion and sincerity.
He can’t be sincere. He doesn’t know me. “I don’t need your help, Warlord.” Gale caressed the trigger of her gun, her nerves on edge, her body too aware of his. “Please leave my ship.”
A loud click followed her declaration and the lights turned off, casting them in complete blackness. Gale stiffened, unable to detect her adversary. Please let him not have the ability to see in the dark. A wave of panic surged over her.
Murad chuckled, the sexy rumble made more intimate by the darkness. “I see you have everything under control.” The floor creaked.
“Don’t move.” Gale brushed her free hand over the cluttered console, searching for the mobile light source. “Or I’ll shoot.” Blindly. Her fingers trembled as Murad’s musky male scent coiled around her, scattering her thoughts, hampering her hunt for the device.
A beam of light streamed from the multipurpose tool Murad grasped, illuminating his smiling face. “You’d shoot an unarmed male?” Shadows danced over his powerful form, accentuating his defined abdominal muscles, his strength both appealing and alarming. “That’s not very sporting of you, Gale.”
Don’t allow him to distract you. Gale glared at Murad’s square chin, focusing on a body part she shouldn’t find appealing. His tanned skin appeared smooth, with no hint of stubble darkening it. Would it feel as smooth? She skimmed her tongue over her lips, yearning to suck on his chin, to taste him, to touch him.
I have to get him off my ship now. “The converter is under there.” She waved her gun at the console, forced to trust him with her ship, failure of the life support systems looming, collapse of her willpower even more imminent.
“We’ll complete the repairs first and then we’ll play.” The Warlord stalked forward, invading her territory with an irritating confidence, moving as a predator would, his gait loose and flowing.
Danger. Gale’s trigger finger twitched, her urge to block Murad’s advancement, to eliminate the threat he represented, almost overwhelming her common sense. If you shoot him, the life support systems will fail and you’ll die. She breathed in, breathed out, inhaling his musk, the scent tormenting her.“There won’t be any play.”
“You’ll enjoy our play, gerel.” Murad paused in front of her collection of hoarded items, the objects creating an emotional wall between her and a hurtful world.
“How can you find anything with all of this stuff around you?” He toppled that wall with one careless sweep of his arm, pushing the toys to one side as though they were garbage, meaning nothing to anyone. The Warlord then plunked his pack on the cleared flat surface, claiming the territory for his own.
“Don’t touch my things.” As Gale snatched a model of a Silan bounty hunter off the console, her hand brushed against Murad’s bulging biceps. A lust-laden charge zapped up her arm and across her chest, stealing her breath. “You’ll break them,” she gasped, backing away from him quickly, taking both the plaything and her body out of his reach.
“Break them more, you mean.” His dark gaze dropped to the model. “All of the Silans I know have two legs.” He angled his portable light source at the console, casting Gale in shadows.
“Other beings might discard someone because he or she isn’t perfect. I don’t.” She set her gun down, moved the torn dagger sheath she’d rescued from Zeta’s refuse container and positioned the little bounty hunter carefully on the second console, recovering some of the emotional ground he’d stolen from her.
“It’s a toy, gerel.” Murad bent over, his ass cheeks flexing under the snug leather leg coverings. Gale dug her fingernails into her palms, the pain dousing her need to touch, to follow the ripple of firm flesh, to feel his strength against her palms.
“It’s not a someone.” The console interior muffled Murad’s voice. He stood with his handsome head jammed deep in the construction and his back facing her, foolishly exposing his big body to attack.
Gale retrieved her gun from the console, regaining even more control and more power over the situation. “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand.”
She studied the Warlord’s broad shoulders. Does he want to understand? “Each toy, each object on the console, once belonged to someone I cared for. It’s a connection to that being.” A safe, permanent connection no being can ever take away from me.
“A lot of people care for you.” The muscles in Murad’s back pulled tight as he worked. Perspiration beaded on his tanned skin, the tiny drops of moisture reflecting the limited light.
Gale licked her bottom lip, her need for him escalating. “I’ve cared for a lot of people.” Do any of them think of me? Will he think of me?
“Control yourself for a little while longer, gerel. Your ship’s power is dangerously low.” Murad reached for a tool out of his pack. “This isn’t the ideal time for rutting.”
Gale’s face heated and her grip on her gun tightened. “Who said anything about rutting?”
Murad straightened to his full, impressive height and he turned his head, his eyes as black as open space. “Nothing needs to be said.” He breathed in, his nostrils flaring.
He smells my need. Gale pressed her thighs together in a futile attempt to disguise her arousal. “We’re not rutting.”
“We will.” Murad chuckled. “Soon. Have patience, little bounty hunter.” He hummed a happy tune as he bent over and fastened the tool to a joint.
Gale opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of that plan, and the engine whirled to life. “You fixed it.” The overhead lights turned on and she blinked, the brightness blinding. A blast of recycled air hit her face, the oxygen levels returning to normal.
“It isn’t fixed.” Murad gripped the fastening tool in his big right hand, swirling his thumb in small sensuous circles over the handle, gliding his skin across the silver metal, polishing it to a sheen.
“This is merely a patch,” he explained, spinning the fastening tool in his hand as though it were a dagger, the light reflecting off its handle. “Giving us enough energy to power the ship’s fundamental systems. You’re not going anywhere yet.” He placed the fastening tool back in his pack.
Gale gazed at the faded brown leather bag, wishing to add the small device to her collection. Because I might need it in the future. She clasped her gun with both her hands, fighting the urge to grab the fastening tool. I only take random things from beings I care for and I don’t care for Murad so I must need it.
“That cable is older than one of our moons and has to be swapped out,” Murad rumbled, he seemed unaware of her inner turmoil. “Do you have a spare?”
“No.” Gale dropped her gaze and studied the barrel of her gun, the spare cable having been sold to p
ay for the bounty-hunter school’s rations. “And I don’t have the replicator credits to create one,” she admitted, swallowing her shame.
“You have all of this stuff.” Murad glanced around them, extending his arms. “Yet you have no spare cables and no replicator credits?”
Gale stared up at him, alarmed by the Warlord’s sudden anger, hearing the accusation in his voice, his tone similar to those her substitute parents had used. She didn’t bother to reply, to defend herself, as none of her responses had ever changed her parents’ minds. It didn’t matter what she’d said, they’d all returned her to the home for unwanted offspring.
Murad’s face darkened even more. “If you had broken down in a hostile sector, where I couldn’t rescue you, what would you have done?”
I would have died and nobody would have cared. Gale lifted her chin, facing him as she’d faced all of her accusers, erecting her pride as a shield in front of her. “I would have managed…alone, as I have always done.” She waved her gun at him, striving to regain her confidence and her power. “You’re not my rescuer and you’re not my keeper.”
“I am now.” Murad approached, large and powerful and very angry. “Clearly you need a keeper.” He raised his hand.
Threat. Acting on instinct, an instinct that had saved her life in the past, Gale pressed the trigger. A blue beam surged from her gun, striking Murad in the chest. He shook, his muscles vibrating, his teeth chattering and he dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Gale,” he roared, clenching his fists.
“You should be unconscious.” She examined her gun, looking for defects. It appeared to be in working order, the barrel warm. “Why isn’t the stun setting functioning properly?”
“Do not stun me again.” Murad staggered to his feet. “Or I’ll…”
“Or you’ll…what?” Gale backed away from him, maintaining the distance between them. “Hit me?” Not again. Never again. She aimed her gun at his reddened chest.