Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series)

by Catherine Spangler

  She had gotten in the shower with the children and gone through decontamination, so she was clean. Decided, she shed her tunic and boots, then dabbed a small portion of the starflower oil on her body.

  She slipped into the robe, enthralled with the feeling of the silk against her bare skin. It fit her small frame so well, she decided Moriah must have had it cut down in size. The neckline scooped lower than she had realized and the robe split at each side, midway up her thighs. Not that it mattered—she wouldn't have parted with the robe for anything just then.

  Taking her new brush, she brushed her hair until it crackled with static. She set the brush down slowly. She had delayed as long as she could. With a prayer that her improved appearance would soften Chase's anger, she took a deep breath and left her cabin. The silk swished around her legs, exposing them with each stride. Nessa slowed her pace to better control the exposure.

  Her courage faltered when she faced Chase's panel. He had been so furious with her. Perhaps later… No. She would need his help with the children. She didn't know how to use the food replicator. He could get proper clothing for them. Best to make amends as quickly as possible. She sounded the tone.

  Nothing. She sounded the tone again. Still nothing. "Captain McKnight, are you all right?" He didn't answer and alarm twinged through her. She punched the panel control, entering his cabin cautiously. Having never been inside before, she didn't know what to expect.

  Chase's cabin was bigger than hers. Unadorned white walls gave the room a stark appearance, softened only by a case full of reading disks. A massive exercise machine took up one side of the room, and a control console and computer lined the wall directly opposite the entry panel.

  Turned partly away from her, Chase slouched in a large, high-back chair, his booted feet propped on the console. Clutching a half-empty bottle against his bare chest, he didn't bother to look at her. "What do you want?"

  "I came to see if you needed anything." Nessa paused, hating the telltale nervous quiver in her voice. "Or if you need assistance, like cleaning the cuts on your face."

  "Oh, yes, that's right. You're my personal servant now, aren't you? My slave, I believe. Well, right now, slave, I just want you as far away from me as possible. Preferably on a planet on the other side of the quadrant."

  Obviously, his mood had not improved. "I'm sorry I bothered you." She turned to go.

  "Wait. You don't leave my presence until I dismiss you. Is that clear?"

  "Yes."

  "Yes, what?"

  Nessa bit her lip, not sure what he wanted her to say. "Yes, captain?"

  "No, no, no. A slave must do better than that. I expect you to say `Yes, master.' Say it, slave."

  She wondered fleetingly if he were drunk. His voice didn't sound slurred. "Say it!"

  She thought of the children, of her mission. "Yes, master."

  "Ah, but I do like the sound of that." He took a drink from the bottle, then set it on the console. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he finally looked directly at her. His eyes widened. "Where did you get that robe?"

  His intense, predatory expression was disconcerting. That, and the sight of his bare, muscular chest. "Moriah sent it to me—"

  With a thud, his booted feet hit the floor. He swiveled the chair and faced her fully. "Take it off."

  "What?"

  "I said, take it off."

  Nessa recognized the expression on his face. He'd had it when he kissed her the first time, and when they mated. Sabin had also mirrored that same expression when he looked at Moriah. Panic and an odd excitement whipped through her.

  "What?" she asked inanely, unable to say anything else. The pounding of her heart made it difficult to think clearly.

  His molten gaze swept her again, heating her blood. "You heard me, slave. Do it."

  The breath seemed frozen in her chest as she reached for the seam seal. Tension hung heavy in the room, a tingling, anticipatory tension. She pulled the seam, opening the robe halfway down. Shaking, she began to free her arms.

  "Slowly. Take it off slowly."

  The way he was looking at her made her feel weak and hot all over. She thought of the men and women dancing in front of the Pleasure Domes, of the erotic energy they radiated. An instinctive, feminine awareness blossomed within her. This was the energy of mating, the excitement, the primal pull between male and female.

  She was afraid. Afraid of the pain, afraid of exposing her deformed body, afraid of the intensity between her and Chase. But another part of her, the female core of her, throbbed with a need she'd never before experienced.

  Remembering the sensual movements of the women at the Domes, she slowly slid one arm from the sleeve. Then, even more slowly, despite her trembling, the other arm from its sleeve. She allowed the robe to slither down, clutching it over her breasts. Chase gripped the arms of the chair, his breathing suddenly labored.

  "Come here." His voice sounded hoarse, guttural. She moved toward him, still afraid. "Closer."

  Feeling exposed and vulnerable, she stopped before him. His pupils were dilated, his face taut with tension, as his intense scrutiny branded her from head to toe.

  Then he grabbed her, pulling her forward. She stumbled against him, hampered by the robe. He yanked the fabric up, baring her legs. Lifting her onto his lap, he settled her on her knees, spreading her thighs and forcing her to straddle him. The movement bunched the robe around her waist.

  She gasped, feeling the hardness of him pressing between her legs. Then his mouth was on hers, his tongue demanding entry. He pried her hands from her chest, and the robe slid down to pool around her waist. His hands covered her breasts and she gasped again, reeling from the rampage of sensations slamming through her body.

  He tasted different, but not unpleasant. It must be the liquor lending that heady flavor to his mouth. She found herself wanting more of the taste of him and twined her hands through his hair. With a groan, he slid one large hand behind her head, holding her still while he plundered her mouth. His other hand squeezed and stroked her breast. Every sensation became incredibly acute, especially the throbbing ache where he was pressing against her so intimately.

  Her breath grew erratic, surging between each frenzied heartbeat. She no longer cared that mating would hurt. Coherent thought fled, reality blurred, until the only point of reference became sensation. The feel of Chase's hand on her fevered skin, the feel of his heaving chest beneath her fingers, of his flat, puckered nipples; the sound of his groans when she touched them.

  Then his hand slid lower, and she arched up on her knees with a cry. He held her there, drawing a sensitive nipple into his mouth, as he stroked and teased her feminine flesh, coaxing an alarming wetness.

  Surely she was undeserving of such pleasure, would die from the intensity of it. But she didn't. Instead, she spread her legs wider and his fingers stroked even deeper, and she cried out his name.

  Groaning as if he were in intense pain, Chase withdrew his hand and fumbled with his pants. Then the startling boldness of his penis invaded her, and panic surged through her. She thrashed upward, but he grabbed her waist and pressed her down on him.

  "No, sweetheart, don't fight it," he panted hoarsely. "It won't hurt as much this time, I promise. Just relax—oh, Spirit!" With another groan, he threw his head back as she sheathed him completely. He froze, gulping great breaths of air.

  She felt stretched further than was possible, and it hurt, although not as much as before. Chase held her waist, keeping them firmly joined. She sagged against him. "I don't like it," she whispered.

  He chuckled huskily. "Ah, sweetheart, but you will. I'll make sure you do."

  He moved against her, small rocking motions at first, which emphasized how deeply he was embedded inside her. "Kiss me," he murmured, capturing her mouth with his. As the kiss distracted her, he lifted her, then pulled her down, showing her the motion. Automatically, in spite of the discomfort, she followed his guiding movements, using her legs.

  Fas
ter, more urgent, as a tension built inside her, as he held her hips and met every stroke. Reality retreated, all awareness centered on the give and take of their bodies, of reaching for some unknown pinnacle. Vaguely, she heard Chase's guttural sounds, her own low moans. Suddenly, he surged upward, crying out. Then he sagged against the chair with a huge sigh.

  Pulling her against him, he rubbed her back, taking several deep breaths. "Blazing hells. I'm like an untried adolescent with you. I'm sorry, Nessa, but I couldn't hold out. You're so tight, and the liquor didn't help any."

  She didn't understand what he was talking about. She hadn't found relief from the tension, although Chase obviously had. Something must be wrong with her, probably another result of her seizures.

  As passion ebbed, embarrassment set in. She had done it again—allowed him to touch her in shocking ways, allowed him into her body. And he had probably expected it, since she owed him so much. She burned with humiliation at the thought.

  "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

  Why should he be concerned, as long as his needs were met? She pushed against his chest, disengaging their bodies. He let her go, and she scrambled off the chair. Her leg, stiff from her position in the chair, buckled, but she caught her balance.

  "I'm fine." She fought a sudden rush of tears. What was the matter with her, to allow this to happen again? Trying to untangle the robe twisted around her middle, she limped toward the entry.

  "Nessa, wait! Did I hurt you?"

  She paused by the panel, keeping her back to Chase. It was foolish to be upset, even if he had mated with her just to ease his lust. Having now experienced sexual need herself, she could understand the urgent, primal drive to find release—even with someone as undesirable as she was.

  "Nothing's wrong. I need to check on the children. You'll be glad to know they were bathed and decontaminated, just as you ordered—master."

  She fled then, to the safety of her cabin, away from him. Away from the shame.

  * * * *

  Nessa entered her cabin, finding the children sound asleep. They hadn't even changed positions. Poor little ones. At least, as able-bodied Shielders, they could find acceptance in a Shielder colony. They wouldn't be outcasts, and they could live useful lives, something she was beginning to fear would never come to fruition for her.

  Numbly, she stepped out of the robe. Smoothing the beautiful silk, she folded it carefully. She rubbed her throbbing leg, then went into the lav and stared at the mirror a long time. No change, not even after the earth-shattering upheaval she'd just experienced in Chase's arms.

  She was still plain and drab, with ordinary brown hair and eyes the color of dirt. Still thin, without enticing curves, still scarred. But she didn't exhibit any of the changes indicating Orana either: the bloodshot eyes and the hemorrhaging beneath the skin, heralding the approach of death.

  Sighing tiredly, she stepped into the shower, needing to wash her encounter with Chase away. But the warm spray couldn't remove the memory of his possession, nor the fears she'd been holding at bay. Time was running out.

  Just as she reached for the soap compound, the stall door swung open, bringing a gust of cooler air with it. "I'll do that." Startled, she looked up into determined gray eyes. Chase stepped into the shower, forcing her back, and closed the door.

  Surprise tightened her throat, but she managed to find her voice. "What are you doing here?"

  Very deliberately, he pumped some soap into the palm of his hand. He looked at her, his eyes heated, and moved toward her slowly. "Taking care of unfinished business."

  "What business?"

  Not answering, he stepped closer. His advance forced her toward the back of the stall, where the wall halted her uneasy retreat. His eyes locked with hers, he pressed one hand against the wall near her head and leaned forward. "A slave may not leave without her master's permission. Did you ask my permission, slave?"

  Before she could answer, he began leisurely soaping her breasts. They reacted immediately, swelling beneath his touch.

  "Did you ask my permission to leave?"

  "N-n—no," she stammered, riotous sensations inundating her body.

  Chase slid his hands to her abdomen. "Another thing you need to learn—a bed partner never leaves immediately after mating. Not from my bed." He massaged soap over her abdomen, then traced soapy circles along the tops of her thighs.

  She shook her head to clear the sensuous cobwebs. "We weren't in your bed."

  "We will be." He slipped his hand between her thighs. "But first, I'm going to show you how it should be between a man and a woman. You're going to experience the full pleasure your body can give you."

  He proceeded to demonstrate exactly what he meant.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Nessa battled her way out of a deep sleep. Disoriented, she struggled to focus on her surroundings. Odd, but she'd always been a light sleeper…. Memory fragments drifted through her groggy mind—the children, Sabin, Chase. Chase! She bolted upright, the cover slipping to her waist.

  The air against her bare breasts drew her surprised attention to her nakedness. Oh. Full memory returned in a rush. She pulled the cover up, looking around the room. Chase's cabin…Chase's bunk. She hadn't dreamed it.

  Hadn't dreamed the wild mating in his chair, or the mindless fervor in the shower. The heat rose in her face at that last memory. Spirit, but he had been relentless in his determination to give her pleasure, and she had been…totally shameless. Even worse than her wanton behavior was the fact he had been witness to it, although at the time, she'd been too caught up in the throes of his wickedly knowing caresses to care. But she'd been mortified afterward.

  She'd never slept with anyone before, but Chase insisted. The children were in her bunk and the third cabin was being used for storage. He hadn't let her put on clothing, either, claiming he wanted to feel her bare skin against his, wanted to look at her. That had been a lie, for nobody in their right mind would want to see her body.

  She didn't mind looking at him, though. Never had she seen a masculine body so powerful and well muscled. Just watching him stirred indecent urges.

  They hadn't mated again, but he had curled around her, pulling her against him. She'd found the feel of his hard body pressed against her, the heat he generated oddly comforting, yet at the same time, alien and distracting. Chase had fallen asleep quickly, but she'd lain awake a long time before exhaustion claimed her. The fact he'd left the bunk without waking her testified to her weariness.

  Nessa pushed her tangled hair from her face, wondering at the time and where Chase might be now. She wasn’t looking forward to any encounters with him today. She rose from the bunk, stiff and sore, well used for providing his pleasure. While she should be resentful, she grudgingly admitted he'd certainly demonstrated the desirability of mating.

  Her clothing had been left in her own cabin, so she pulled the cover off the bunk and wrapped it around herself. Opening the panel, she peered cautiously down the empty corridor before making a dash for her quarters. She slipped into her cabin and stopped short in surprise.

  Chase sat on the edge of her bunk, scanning his medical monitor over Brand. Huddled in the middle of the mat, Brand stared fearfully at the monitor. Raven crouched on the floor nearby, watching anxiously. Nessa's protective instincts went on full alert and she stepped toward the bunk. "What are you doing, Captain?"

  He glanced up, his cool gaze skimming her, pausing at her bare legs before moving to her face. "I'm checking the children to make sure they're okay."

  "Oh." Feeling rather foolish, she looked around the room, searching for her tunic. Not finding it, she moved closer to the bunk to observe. Chattering in welcome, Turi performed a flip when she passed the case. "They went through decontamination yesterday, if you're worried about germs."

  "I'm not concerned about external bacteria." Chase laid the monitor down and picked up an item with a light at one end. "But I want to know if I need to worry about diseases or parasites. I'm going to
look in your ear, Brand."

  Brand drew back, trembling violently. Chase paused, lowering the instrument. "This won't hurt you. It has a special light on it, so I can see into your ear. Would you like to look in my ear first?" He offered the instrument, but Brand retreated even further. Chase considered a moment, then glanced at Nessa. "Tell you what. Why don't I check Nessa first? Then you can see exactly what I'm going to do, and that it doesn't hurt."

  Brand's eyes cut to her, although he didn't give any other response. Chase beckoned. "Come here, Nessa."

  She certainly didn't want him checking her, especially since she wore only a blanket. "I need to find my tunic," she hedged.

  "Your old tunic is gone. I put it in the disintegrator."

  His words took a moment to register, and when they did, panicked outrage swept through her. With her tunic gone, the silk robe became her only item of clothing and after last night, she didn't intend to wear it around Chase. "You destroyed my tunic? That was all I had—"

  "You have another article of clothing, as I recall," he interrupted. "And I bought you some tunics while I was on Elysia."

  That stopped her tirade midstream. Amazed, she snapped her mouth closed, but not for long. "You purchased me tunics? Why?"

  "Because you needed them," he replied brusquely. "Now, get over here, and that's an order…Nessa."

  He didn't say the word slave, but she caught the implication. He'd been quite clear about her new status when he found the children, as well as during their passionate encounters after that. Resentment burning in her chest, she clutched her blanket more tightly around her and walked slowly to the bunk.

  Chase patted the mat. "Sit."

  She sat stiffly, staring straight ahead. He pushed her hair behind her ear, the warmth of his hand sending small shocks through her. The cool metal pressed into her ear and he leaned so close, she could feel his breath on her face.