by Cathryn Cade
The piercing call of a military horn cut through the din, followed by another voice, this one with the cold authority of a military commander. “This is your commander speaking. All officers report to your craft. Repeat, all officers report to your craft immediately.”
Like programmed bots, the young cadets stopped fighting, gathered up their comrades who were injured, and headed at a brisk trot out of the bar and away along the concourse.
“And don't come back!” Naalia yelled after them. “I've got your credit sigs—you won't be welcome in my bar again.”
Then she turned on Ilya, her eyes slitted with fury. “You—every bit of damage is coming out of your pay.”
“Hey, I helped clear them out,” Ilya protested. “I'll pay some, but—”
Naalia snorted. “Ha. You brought the port authority down on me. Now they'll be watching The ‘Tooth.”
Ilya gestured at the now quiet bar, where the remaining bar patrons were helping right table and stools. “You see any port guards out there? No, and you won't. That was all my tech, not—” She shut up, because the regulars were listening with entirely too much interest.
Naalia was not appeased. “You're still paying for the damages.”
“Nah,” the big man interrupted, stepping forward. “I got this.” He gave Ilya a glinting look and held up a huge hand to help her down from where she still stood on the bar. “Worth every credit to see the mighty mite here in action.”
Ilya looked at him in shock. She wasn't the kind of feminine creature to whom males usually offered chivalry. But it was nice—really nice. Placing her hand in his huge, warm paw, she leapt lightly to the floor, on the outside of the bar.
Instead of releasing her hand, he held on, his grasp gentle. He was smiling down at her, like he really liked what he saw.
“I'm Var,” he said, tugging gently to bring her closer. “Var Garroc.”
“Ilya Mondas.” A bubble of cautious joy expanded in her chest. “That was worth it to, uh ... see you in action too.”
He shrugged massively. “I'm strong ... but you're bright—like a little star.”
She smiled up at him, warmth fizzing in her middle and sinking lower. “Maybe you'd like to come to my room and experience my full brilliance.”
His gaze heated, his free hand settling warm and heavy on the small of her back. “Oh, yeah. Shine all over me, little star.”
Naalia made a retching noise. “Credit links first, then you two can take your sickeningly sweet courting display somewhere else.”
Ilya's face burned. “We're not courting, so stuff it.”
Var chuckled, his breath warm in her ear. “Oh, yeah, we are, Ilya Mondas.”
CHAPTER TWO
Shock jolted through Ilya, but for once, not in an unpleasant way. The warm tingles spread out from the heat of Var’s touch, and the shelter of his big, powerful body at her back. He was implying—even saying outright—that this was more than just the attraction of body to body, male to female. That was … intriguing. Way more exciting than that fight.
After he gave Naalia his credit link, Ilya led the way to her room, a short distance from The ‘Tooth.
With the two of them inside, and the hatch closed behind them, Ilya realized how tiny her room really was—and how big this man was. Var could reach out and touch all four walls at once if he wanted to—or crush her in his powerful hands. In the enclosed space with no wafts of ale, fried foods and crowd, his masculine scent filled her senses, and the more she breathed in his pleasant musk, the more she decided he was worth the risk.
She just wasn't sure what to do next. She was sort of used to being a little buzzed on ale or blue stars when she brought a male back here.
She peered up at him from under her lashes, and flushed hotly when she found him watching her. He stood quietly, his hands at his sides, but under his soft cap, his blue eyes scorched her with their intensity. “Change your mind?” he asked.
Wait, what? She was no coward, and she wasn't going to start now. She shook her head, and lifted her hands to place them on his chest, solid as a slab of living cerametal, but warm, so warm. “No, have you?” she challenged.
He shook his head, his lips quirking with amusement. “Oh, no. Take a nuclear explosion to change my mind right now.”
Slowly, he lifted his hands and settled them on her waist. His fingers and thumbs met around the narrow span. He squeezed carefully, and then slid his hands carefully up over her ribs. His thumbs followed the swell of her breasts, and found the tight buds of her nipples under the thin fabric of her top.
She shivered as sensation speared through her breasts, arrowing down to her core. Hells, the tinge of feminine fear was as much of a turn-on as his touch.
He repeated the caress, watching her reaction. Satisfaction flared, his eyes darkening as his pupils dilated. Then he lifted one hand to the fastening of her top. “How does this come off?”
She reached for the fastening herself. “I'll get it. You take care of your own.”
He shouldered out of his utility vest, and tossed it behind him, then watched as Ilya drew down the hidden fastenings of her snug one-piece garment. Never had a male watched her with such single-minded focus. It was unnerving, but also ramped up the sheer sexiness of their situation ... and some other feeling that brushed against her consciousness but then evaded her, dancing away beyond reach.
She shrugged the narrow straps of the top from her shoulders and let it fall to her hips, leaving her torso bared to him. Then she bit her lip. Would he think she was too scrawny now that the top wasn't lifting and plumping her breasts? She wasn't very big anywhere. Maybe he'd find her lacking, preferring the enhanced breasts and ass that many human females affected.
Var made a deep sound in his chest, almost a groan. He reached for her, his hands cupping her ribs again, the vee of his thumbs and forefingers framing her breasts. “You're so ... dainty. Like a ... a pretty little catamount kitten.” His gaze lifted to hers, and she caught her breath at the need burning there. “I'll be careful with you. I swear it.”
Everything in her opened, blooming like a flower in the sun of his admiration. “I know you will. But ... can you do it a little faster?” If this encounter continued at this grommet's pace, she was going to lose all courage.
His groan became a chuckle, and he let her go to shake his head at her. “No game-playing with you, is there, Ilya Mondas? I'll go as fast as you need, woman.”
He yanked his soft shirt over his head, and reached to unfasten his belt.
Mesmerized by the sight of his torso, Ilya simply stared at the expanse of pale, satin skin stretched taut over firm muscle, his chest two broad, flat cushions of muscle punctuated by nipples like tiny brown coins, his middle taut, narrowing down to his waist, and the smooth muscles in his big arms as he quickly undid his snug trousers,.
When he shoved his pants down over his hips, she automatically moved to mimic the motion. He paused and held up one hand. “Wait.”
She gave him a look and he shook his head. “The second I see your sweet cunt, I'm gonna want it in my mouth,” he rumbled. “Let me get my boots off first.”
This caused her pussy to clench with such raw need Ilya whimpered in her throat, her fingers clenching tight in the soft fabric around her hips.
Var kicked out of his heavy boots, kicked them into the corner, and shoved his pants down, stepping out of them. Ilya could only gape. Clothed, he was menacing or reassuring, depending if he was grabbing a woman without warning and hauling her across a bar, or stepping between her and danger.
Nude, he was … awe-inspiring. His legs were thick with muscle, and between them, from a soft mat of dark curls, rose his cock, proportionate with the rest of his body, which meant he was quarking huge. His scrotum hung heavy between his thigh. His cock jerked as she stared, and from the broad, flushed head a single spurt of creamy fluid dripped.
He dropped to his knees. “Sweetheart, you keep lookin' at me like that, I'm gonna fire my load right
now,” he told her. “And I wanna taste you first. Get your little suit off for me.”
Ilya moved, pushing the soft fabric down her trembling legs. She tried to step out, tripped, and fell into his arms. She found herself on her back on the thin airbed, the garment flying over his shoulder, his gaze on her nude body—or more specifically, the part of her between her open thighs.
With complete lack of self-consciousness, the big man pushed her thighs farther apart with his fingers curled around them, and bent to nuzzle the sparse curls on her mons, inhaling deeply. He groaned again, this time with satisfaction. “Your pussy smells so good.”
Really? She'd been on her feet for hours, working hard, and perspiring. But then he put out his tongue and swiped it slowly up the furrow of her labia, and she forgot to worry about anything but how it felt. So good. And when he licked into her, she flew straight to ah-maz-ing. It was like a sweet, sly little fucking, a tease of the real thing. She couldn't help lifting up toward him, demanding more.
His grunt, the way his hands delved under her ass and lifted her up like a fruit on which to feast, told her he not only didn't mind, he liked her eagerness. That was good, because she also couldn't help grasping his head between her hands, and holding onto him as he tasted her again and again. Finally, just when she was about to scream with need, he licked up and found the plump pearl of her clitoris and laved it with lavish attention.
Pure sweetness gathered under his tongue, harder and harder until it imploded inside her, and she came, crying out to him wordlessly.
He took her through it, then gentled his caress, lifting his head when she pushed at him, too sensitive to bear more of that particular touch.
But now his gaze was on her breasts. He turned his face to one massive shoulder to wipe off his wet lips, then surged up over her, cupping her breasts in his hands and then favoring both with gentle, sucking caresses.
“Mm-mm, you are a sweet little treat from head to toe,” he told her, nuzzling his way up to the curve of her throat.
Ilya smiled, still in a haze of repletion. Then his cock brushed her belly, a hot silky column of flesh that begged to be touched and fondled. She opened her eyes and watched his face as she closed her fingers around him. His broad jaw bulged, his nostrils flaring as she petted him, drawing her thumb over the broad head to paint him with his own arousal.
“I could taste you too,” she offered, her voice a whisper. “See if you're sweet, or salty.”
He groaned again and pushed into her hand, his body quivering with eagerness. “You could—but I'd rather save that for the second round. Right now I want inside you. You think you can take me?”
“Um—sure.” She might need gesics afterward, though. She could barely close her fingers around his girth. But his male magnificence was meant to be enjoyed by a woman, and right now she was every inch a woman—just floating down from one great orgasm and already craving another. She curled her legs up around his lean hips. “Try me.”
He positioned himself and pushed carefully inside her. Whoa, that was tight— like he was trying to force his giant, male body into her tiny cat suit. He quivered with what felt like sheer need, his head down, jaw gritted, perspiration springing out on his forehead and shoulders. On such a massive scale it was frightening, to say the least, but the set of his hard face told her he had his lust on a tight leash.
“Am I ... too big?” he managed, his voice gritting through his teeth.
Just that, his care for her first before his own lust, made everything in Ilya open and blossom, drenching her even more in arousal, and easing her way to arch her back and take him in farther. She dug her short nails into the long muscles of his back and tugged. “No, c'mere.”
He allowed her to take him in a bit deeper, then slowly, watching her face like a holovid map of uncharted stars, he thrust home, deep inside her. The delicate flesh of her opening burned as she stretched to accommodate his size.
Then he moved, pulling back cautiously and forward again, and the broad head of his cock raked a magical place high inside her pussy.
She whimpered and dug her heels into his firm ass, arching herself up against him, around him.
Var tipped his forehead down to hers, and groaned again. “Little star, I was right. You burn brighter, hotter than any other female. C’mon, burn me up.”
“Oh, my God,” was all she could reply. “Just don’t stop.”
He thrust one brawny arm underneath her, held her close and complied enthusiastically with her command.
* * *
When Ilya woke tangled in Var’s arms, she was, for the first time since she could recall, warm. Too hot in places, even. The man gave off heat like a furnace. Their skin was dewed with sweat, and sticky with sex. She ached in places that made her smile to herself even as she winced.
Uncurling her leg from between his, she leaned up on one elbow and pushed her tangle of braids back from her face, watching him with mingled wariness and smugness.
Her lover gave a massive stretch, straining the confines of her sleep cubby, and smiled sleepily at her. His short, light brown hair was matted to his head with sweat, he had sleep drool dried at the corner of his mouth, a heavy beard shadow on his lower face, a crease in his cheek from sleeping on one of her braids ... and he was the most gorgeous thing she'd ever seen.
“Morning,” he rasped.
“We don't have morning out here,” she pointed out, watching with fascination as he reached up to scratch the fine, light brown hairs curling over his broad chest. It was such a masculine gesture.
“We have morning where I live,” he told her. “Frontiera sunrise is beautiful. The sun comes up in the west and lights the sky real gradual, so it changes colors from the black of night to a pale gray, then blue, and if there are clouds, they turn all kinds of colors ... soft, like your skin, some of them bright as your hair.”
Longing filled Ilya, so strongly his compliments barely registered. She wriggled into a more comfortable position. “And then what happens?”
He curled his arm around her, his hand settling on the small of her back and stroking down to cup her ass, his gaze softening on her face. “The stars disappear—they're real bright at night, so bright you can see the constellations all the way to the Lost Princesses if all the moons aren't full. The mountains lighten first, the snow-capped peaks turning all the colors of the sunrise. Then the prairie begins to brighten, green and gol. And the river—we usually camp beside a river—lightens up and the water’s so clear you can see down into it.”
Ilya sighed deeply. “Sounds ... incredible.” She'd say unbelievable, except she'd seen the travel holovids, and she knew Frontiera was real. “Maybe I'll go there one day.”
Once she saved enough credit, that is. Which meant she'd have to stop buying tech toys.
“It’s an incredible place,” he agreed. “I live with a band, a group—friends, companions. We live wild and free, mostly. Travel wherever we like, stop where we find ourselves, stay as long as we want and then move on.”
“How is this possible?” she whispered in awe. “What d'you live on? For credit, I mean.”
She knew there were beings who foraged for subsistence on Frontiera, but this man certainly didn't have the look of one who ate only what he could gather.
He gave her an odd look. “We, ah ... have our ways.”
She gave him an encouraging look, and he grinned crookedly. “How law-abiding are you, Ilya Mondas?”
Ilya grimaced. “As much as I need to be to stay unnoticed, that's all. Been in trouble most of my life. The rules seem to be made by those in power, and benefit them more than the rest of us.”
It was Var's turn to encourage her. “Tell me. I wanna know all about you.” The coaxing look on his craggy face made her grin. She sighed.
“Okay, I'll tell you. It all began when my dad died. Dear old Dad used to shill me, use me to draw in marks for his cheap cons, 'cause I was little and innocent looking—all eyes and hair, he used to say.”
<
br /> “You still are.”
She gave him a look. “You wanna hear this, or not?”
He nodded, and she began to talk. “It all began in New Chicago, Earth II …
CHAPTER THREE
Earth II, Ten Galactic Common Years ago …
“We pride ourselves on helping unfortunate children become productive citizens,” the crèche directress said, her voice as cold and precise as cubed ice. “And our success rate is high. Of course there are always one or two who are too clever for their own good. They'll end up in a gang, or worse. That's what happens to the ones who think rules are for everyone else.”
She could have speaking of anyone. And yet, Ilya Mondas knew exactly who the woman meant. Her.
Ilya's back might be turned, but she could feel the woman's gaze searing across her back like the strap she wielded when sufficiently riled.
All the other children herded into the long, chilly room knew, too. None of them dared turn their heads and alert the directress that they weren't focused on their tasks, but the gazes of those nearest darted her way.
Ilya's small, thin hands clenched on the guides of the small loom she was operating. She'd like to hurl the quarking thing at the directress' pinched, pale face, see how the bitch liked that.
“Hmm,” answered another voice, this one male. “I see. What are they doing here?”
“This is our craft room,” the directress said. “The children create small mats and rugs for sale. They are learning the importance of working to support themselves, and helping to pay for the operation of the crèche.”
“Surely bots could do this with more precision?”
“Well, yes, but this is a pleasant diversion for the children, just for a short time each day, and a help to us, so we needn't depend too much on the kindness of our donors. There are those wealthy patrons who will pay for the sentimental value of work done by children.”
Ilya's lip curled. Here to do 'pleasant crafts', hells. They were slave labor, more like. Although the rest of the children had come and gone, she'd been in here since early morning, and it was now well after noon. Ilya's belly ached with hunger, and her fingers were sore from constantly pulling the heddles that held the vari-colored cords that made up the patterns.