The Huntress

by Michelle O'Leary

  "Not just yet, Bay. You'll hear me out before you leave even if I have to restrain you again."

  He stared at her, clenching his hands into fists. The violence would do him good, but getting anywhere near her was another very bad idea. With an effort he contained his ferocity, folding his arms across his chest and leaning with feigned nonchalance against the table. Mea copied his stance, leaning against the wall next to the door.

  "What Uncle Mike was trying to tell you is that you aren't safe on this planet. Although Job is confined right now, he has connections just like the rest of us, and he's been overheard saying he'd make sure you got the message—whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. So you've got a couple of ways off this planet. There's the public shuttles—the next one leaves in about five hours, which would be four and a half too late for you to avoid what Job has planned. The private transports usually need at least a couple of days' notice. You could try the more illegal routes, but those are the people who'd take a payment to do you."

  She paused, crossing her ankles and dropping her eyes to study the toe of her shoe intently. Stone shifted uneasily against the table. He knew her well enough to know when she was working up to something—something he wasn't going to like.

  "And then there's my ship. Uncle Mike has me leaving on a mission in about an hour. The first leg is a four-day run to Xerxes—just a stopover for info gathering, but it's got possibilities for you. The place gets heavy traffic, and you could make some very good connections, get yourself a job, that sort of thing. And it'll give Ema time to finish healing you. Mike recommended just taking off and not giving you the option of leaving, but I promised not to force you again. So it's your choice."

  Still not looking at him, she shifted so that she was leaning on one shoulder, giving him her profile. She wasn't finished, and Stone's uneasiness increased, pushing his heart rate up a notch. Some animals knew when a trap was about to close, and he was that kind of animal.

  "Knowing you, you'll risk leaving anyway, even in your condition. If that's your choice, I won't stop you, but I have—a proposal. You see I've come to the conclusion that a little of you is better than none at all. Pride and self-esteem be damned."

  In a low and husky voice, she murmured. "If you fly with us, you can have me. Whenever, however, wherever you want. No pushing, no demands, no strings attached. Then you can just walk away. Four days of pure—sexual—gratification. Think about it."

  Raking one fiery look down his length, she slipped out the door. When he started after her, he realized that his legs were no longer working. Activating a seat, he fell onto it heavily and turned to rest his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. The trap door had closed with a loud clang, and the vibrations of it were still shaking him.

  He tried to tell himself that it was still possible to get up and leave, but she'd baited this trap too well. Even if she still had an agenda, just the possibility of having her without restraint pushed him way past any hint of self-control. The memory of last night sent a shaft of heat through him, and with a sharp, indrawn breath, he planted his hands on the table, pushing to his feet.

  "Don't even think about it! You try to go after her, and I'll gas this room! You are not physically capable of doing that kind of strenuous exercise without injury. Mild activity only and that does not include sex, especially with you two. We need to have another healing session before you're ready for that, which we can do in about four hours. So cool your jets."

  He didn't need Ema's lecture to tell him he wouldn't be going after Mea. Since the muscles in his legs had felt like water, he'd pushed with his arms and torso. Now bright, stabbing pain was spiking through his chest. Grimacing, he lowered himself back down onto the seat, and put his head back in his hands. He heard the door slide open, but knew it wasn't Mea.

  "Hey, you okay?" Regan came to his side and put a tray of food down next to him. "What's the matter?"

  "He's fine," Ema answered for him. "Just feeling a little—frustrated."

  He was not amused.

  "Mom's doing the same thing in the mess. What happened?"

  Ema didn't answer this time, and Stone gritted his teeth, still fighting a battle he knew was already lost. It's just sex, he tried to tell himself. He could find that anywhere—but it wasn't just that or he wouldn't be fighting so hard to get away. The words seemed to come out of their own free will through clenched teeth and stiff lips. "Tell her—tell her she's got a deal."

  Shoulders slumping in defeat, he hung his head and linked his fingers behind his neck, breathing carefully through the pain in his chest.

  "What deal?"

  "Just tell her."

  "Wish somebody'd tell me something for a change," she muttered, but left him alone.

  After a few minutes, his chest eased and the smell of the food caught his attention. He stared at it with something like animosity. His baser instincts were running the show these days, he thought bitterly. Like an animal—jump through a hoop and get a treat. His stomach growled, and he slapped an angry hand on the tray, jerking it over in front of him. It looked edible—some egg-like thing. He speared some and chewed it experimentally. Sure beat the hell out of prison chow. He found himself shoveling it down ravenously, nearly finished when the kid came back.

  "All right!" she exclaimed, flopping down next to him. She looked pissed. "What does, 'Oh god, what the hell am I going to do for four hours' mean?" Regan scowled when Ema started laughing. "That's what Warren did—couldn't stop laughing long enough to tell me."

  Stone looked at her, heat spreading up his neck. "She said that?"

  "Yeah, then jumped up and left. What's it mean?"

  Ema cut in, "I'm going to finish healing him in four hours. Then he'll be ready for all kinds of—activities."

  "Okay, great, but I don't get what's so funny about that."

  Neither one answered her. The AI tittered in the background while Stone downed his drink in one swallow, wishing it were something stronger than juice.

  Regan sighed hugely. "Fine. Whatever. Are you staying or not?" She sounded belligerent, but her dark eyes gleamed with fearful hope.

  Remembering Mea's lecture from the night before, Stone shifted uncomfortably. Hurting the kid was not what he wanted to do. "I'll be with you 'till Xerxes."

  Her eyes dropped, and she sat for a second, picking at the edge of the table. "Is that part of the deal?"

  "Yeah."

  "What's the rest of the deal?"

  "That's got nothing to do with you."

  "But—"

  He shoved the tray away and turned to look at her. "Drop it."

  She pressed her lips together, eyes sparkling with rebellion, but she dropped it.

  The kid was getting more and more attitude these days. For some reason, that made him want to grin.

  "So what happened with your family?"

  Her whole face lit up. "They didn't want me."

  "You didn't want to go?"

  "No way! I don't even know them. Never met 'em even once."

  He studied her carefully. "What made you stay with the hunter?"

  "Mea?" She frowned at him. "'Cause I love her, of course."

  "You didn't want a family? Two parents?"

  Ducking her head, she sat still for a minute. When she looked back up at him, her face was bitterly adult. "Yeah, I did, but you don't ever stay." Then she jumped up and left.

  Stunned, he sat very still.

  "Why are you so surprised? You know she thinks the suns revolve around you."

  "Shut up, Ema."

  "Why so cranky? Still haven't figured out what you're going to do for four hours?"

  Growling wordlessly, he surged to his feet and snatched up the tray, stalking out on a wave of her laughter. Stomping down the corridor to the mess hall, he threw the dishes, tray and all, into the sanitizer and started pacing. He didn't stop until his legs threatened to drop him on the floor. Then he sank down on a seat at the table and stared at the metal surface for a long ti
me. Every few minutes, the muscles of his shoulders and arms would bunch as though he was strangling someone.

  Finally Warren interrupted his whirling thoughts.

  "There you are. We'll be lifting off in a couple, and you need to be secure, so either get to the control room and strap into a chair there, or go to your quarters and lie down. The G's aren't going to be nice to your insides."

  "Where is she?" Stone heard himself say and grimaced at showing his weakness to the android.

  "Mea? She's in the control room."

  The amusement in his voice made Stone look up. Something in the android's face reminded him that Warren and she had been lovers. An image of them together goaded him to his feet, and he pounced on the android, possessive rage firing through his veins. Shoving him against the wall with a forearm under his chin, Stone snarled into Warren's calm face, "You touch her again and I'll tear you apart!"

  The android didn't resist, only looked at him blandly. "Nice to see you feeling better."

  Stone growled and pushed away from him, ignoring the bands of pain constricting his chest and abdomen as he stalked down the corridor to the quarters he'd used before. There he took off his goggles and paced in the dark like a caged cat, unable to keep still.

  A of couple minutes later he felt the thrum of the engines in his heels and forced himself over to the bed to lie down. The softness of the bed felt like another trap, and he clenched his muscles to keep from leaping to his feet again. The ship launched into the atmosphere, and a brutal hand crushed him into the soft cushion. The android had been right. The G's were not nice to his guts.

  He tried to relax, breathing out to relieve the pressure on his chest. It didn't last long, but it felt like an eternity. When the hand lifted, he sat up slowly, determined to get the hell off the bed. He continued pacing, but slower than before.

  The click of the intercom was the only warning he got before Mea's voice invaded the dark room.

  "Bay, are you all right?"

  At the touch of her voice, he was instantly, painfully hard. He gritted his teeth at his own body's betrayal and paced faster, trying to ignore the waves of heat and chills that followed each other over his skin.

  "Stone, answer me. Are you hurt?"

  He felt like howling.

  "If you don't answer, I'm coming down there."

  The prospect thrilled and infuriated him. He pounced at the intercom.

  "You sure you want to do that, lady?" He kept his voice low, but he still sounded like an avalanche waiting to happen.

  The intercom clicked off.

  He pushed away from the wall and circled again, needing action, violence, but knowing his body couldn't handle much more than what he was doing. He mouthed a long string of silent curses to keep himself from shouting and stopped only when the door chimed. He froze. Had Mea actually come to check on him? Did she really think he'd be able to let her go if she stepped into this room?

  "Stone?" It was Regan.

  He took a deep breath, relief and frustration mixing together in his stomach to burn like acid.

  "Stone? Are you in there?"

  Regan was a different kind of attack on his peace of mind, but at least she would be a distraction. He still had at least three hours to go. Pulling on his goggles, he hit the door release and it opened.

  "Yeah?"

  She blinked rapidly at his hostile tone, but didn't back away. "Mom said you were going to need a distraction. Whatever that means. So I was wondering if you wanted to teach me more about knife throwing."

  Cursing Mea under his breath, he stepped out into the corridor, steering Regan away from the control room.

  "There's a faster way down to the gym—"

  "I know."

  "It's just down there, next to the control room—"

  "I know."

  With a sigh that sounded long suffering, she shut up and let him lead her the long way through the engine rooms to the training room.

  Teaching the kid had a calming effect on Stone. Concentrating on her allowed the violence in his muscles to ease and the turmoil in his mind to settle. She was a quick study, and her determination amused him. Time passed without him knowing it, and he was giving Regan an anatomy lesson on the best places for fatal knife strikes when the intercom clicked on.

  "Stone, it's time for your next healing. Get up here pronto."

  Ema's voice was like a lightening strike—he felt it all the way to his toes. Regan smiled up at him. "Go ahead. I'm getting hungry anyway. I'll just head for the mess hall after I finish up here."

  Not trusting his voice, he nodded to the kid and moved quickly to the ladder, hoping like hell Mea wasn't still in the control room. He saw no one on his way to the infirmary, and Ema started talking the minute he stepped inside.

  "All right, strip and get up on my table. You've been overexerting yourself, haven't you? Damn man! No sense at all. Well, hurry up! This is going to take long enough as it is."

  He wasn't going to ask, he thought as he quickly stripped off his clothes. The AI had already had enough fun at his expense. Boosting himself up onto the table, he lay down and clenched his jaw against the question. The healing beams of light began to dance over his chest and abdomen. He fought it for several long, dragging minutes before finally letting out an explosive breath. "How long?" he snarled, cursing himself.

  "About an hour."

  "What?" He tried to sit up, but she'd anticipated him and activated the force field again.

  "You're too tense. You're jittering around up here like a bega bug on a hot plate. If you relaxed, we might get this done in half the time. How about a tranquilizer?"

  "No! Just get on with it."

  She continued, and Stone tried to clear his mind and relax, but thoughts and images of Mea kept slipping in. He alternated between tensing rigidly and shuddering until Ema lost her patience.

  "That does it!"

  A mask came down over his face and even though he fought it savagely, his curses slurred and the room faded gently away as he inhaled a bitter gas. When he came to, he did so with a start, sitting up so quickly he almost hit his head on one of her mechanical arms. She moved it without comment.

  "What the hell did you do to me?" he rasped.

  "I healed you, stupid. And I did it in twenty-five minutes—you can thank me later," she murmured in a dry tone as he rolled off of the table and began pulling on his clothes with urgent hands. "I want you back here tomorrow morning for a final checkup."

  He barely heard her. The second he'd sat up, he'd recognized the painless strength in his body and had realized that there were no more obstacles. It made him shake with anticipation.

  He left the infirmary and moved down the corridor at a quick pace to the mess hall. He leaned in, but only saw Regan and Warren, their heads together over a digital pad.

  "Where is she?"

  With a knowing smirk, Warren looked up at him, but answered quick enough, "In her quarters."

  As Stone turned away, the android tacked on "Have fun!" with a snicker. Stone ignored him, past caring about their reactions. His blood thundered desperate violence through his veins as he approached Mea's door. It wasn't locked, and he didn't hesitate to step inside.

  It was dark inside, and he pulled off his goggles as her scent surrounded him. It fogged his mind like a drug as he searched the room. It was empty. He was just about to turn around and go find the android to tear apart when the door to the sanitary slid open and blinding light spilled out. Just as quickly, the light was gone, and Mea stood just inside the room, staring off to his left. She couldn't see—was waiting for her eyes to adjust—but she still sensed him.

  "Bay?" she murmured, and Stone drew a ragged breath.

  He could smell her damp skin. She was wearing only a towel and her hair was wet.

  "Just say no. Stop. Don't," he muttered low in the back of his throat. He was afraid it was too late to offer an out, though—even if she did say no, he wasn't going to be able to leave.

 
"Yes. Please. Now."

  The words and her husky voice pulled him across the room like a magnet, but he still managed to shudder to a stop a short distance away. No matter what the woman had planned for him, he had to warn her.

  "I can't be gentle," he gritted.

  She could see him well enough to smile like a siren into his eyes. "Who said I would be?" she whispered before dropping her towel and stepping into his arms.

  Overwhelmed at once by the feel of her, he had one more thought before his mind exploded into a million pieces—I am not going to survive this.

  Then it was all sensation, and he was mindless, heedless.

  Later he would remember only bits and pieces, as though his mind couldn't take in the whole thing all at once. He would remember the wet silk of her hair and the smooth firmness of her skin, the frantic little noises she made in the back of her throat that drove him insane, and the softness of her body beneath him. Entering her was such exquisite pleasure it was almost pain, but once there she didn't let him go, goading him on with nails and teeth and the straining of her own body. It had to end, but he wasn't ready for the silent concussion that blasted him like a nova, blinding him and pushing him out of reality all together.

  When he became aware of the world again, he found himself gasping raggedly in her ear, arms shaking—hell, his whole body shaking—as if he had a fever. She still had him wrapped up in her arms and legs, gripping him tightly. She also shivered beneath him, and he could feel her rapid pulse in more places than he would have believed possible. Then she rubbed her cheek tenderly against his and kissed his ear.

  It was too much. A yawning pit opened in front of him, and he felt himself teetering on the edge. The blackness below whispered for him, and he wrenched away from her, rolling to his back and throwing one arm over his eyes.