by Tess Mallory
"Please, sit down, Colonel," she said, indicating the chair opposite hers.
Her silver-blond hair fell over one shoulder and she tossed it back impatiently, glancing up at him. She wore the silver headband again around her forehead. What was its significance, he wondered? He was struck by her diminutiveness as she sat facing him, her legs crossed, one booted foot twitching up and down. Funny, he'd never thought of the big bad captain as petite, but she certainly was. Her authoritative attitude gave her a psychological "height," he supposed, but as his gaze traveled over her taut body and his eyes shifted to lock with hers, her size became immaterial. Her full lips parted as if she wanted to speak but couldn't. Before he realized what he was doing, Eagle had crossed to her side and now stood towering over her, one side of his mouth lifting derisively as he picked up one long lock of her hair and wrapped it around his fingers.
"Lovely stuff, this," he said softly. "Amazing how solid things can feel inside your head, isn't it? But in real life, it's even better. Everything feels better, don't you think, Sky?" He grazed the side of her face with the back of his knuckles.
Her gaze darted to one side as she jerked her hair from his grasp. When she spoke again, she sounded almost breathless. "I said, sit down, Colonel. We have much to talk about."
"Yes, we do, don't we?" Eagle knelt down beside her and with one hard shove, sent her chair spinning around to face him. He enjoyed the startled look on her sculptured features as he abruptly stopped the ride, his hands splayed across both her thighs. Today she didn't wear her usual jumpsuit uniform. Today she wore a short turquoise tunic the color of her eyes, the hem barely grazing the top of her thighs. Belted, it rose even higher. He hadn't noticed on the bridge because he'd been so furiously angry. He noticed now. Knee-high boots completed the ensemble, and the sight of her long, slim legs bare beneath the sheer tights she wore made his heart begin to throb. Not to mention other parts of his body.
Easy, he cautioned himself. This little byplay was to intimidate her—not show her how easily she aroused him.
"How dare you!" she sputtered, grabbing his hands and trying to wrench them from her legs. Eagle tightened his fingers and slid them higher, raising his body from the floor, leaning forward until his face was almost touching hers, his arm muscles flexing as he positioned himself over her.
"How dare I? But, sweetheart, how can you say that after all we've meant to each other in the recesses of your wicked little mind? Baby, you left me wanting you. I think you owe me something, don't you?"
He could feel her breath warm on his face, whispering out from her parted lips. Long eyelashes cascaded downward, back up again, revealing the brilliant blue eyes a man could lose his soul in. Unable to control the sudden need to feel her skin against his, Eagle moved his hands to her waist and pulled her roughly forward, crushing her mouth against his, drinking in the richness of her breath, her scent. Running one hand up her side, he caressed her through the cloth even as her mouth opened beneath his and he changed his rough demand to a more gentle embrace. She moaned and Eagle almost toppled the chair beneath them. He had expected her to fight him, to kick him, to scream—and he in turn planned to show her what it meant to be overpowered by a superior strength. He hadn't actually planned to hurt her or violate her physically as she had violated him mentally, but he had wanted to put a hell of a scare into her. Instead, she was melting beneath him, her well-formed arms lifting to hold him, her fingers tangled in the too-long hair at his collar.
He pulled her from the chair and began backing her up until they collided with the wall. Her mouth was his. He plundered it, as she had plundered his mind. He trapped her against the wall, his body pressing into hers, as she had trapped him within her mind. Her arms went around his waist and her body moved beneath him in a sensual movement that was almost his undoing. He wanted her. He didn't want to punish her. He wanted to lay her down right there on the briefing room floor and make slow, passionate love to her. He wanted to lie with her naked and let her long, silver-blond hair trail across his chest as they held one another. He wanted to caress every inch of her skin; he wanted to strip her bare and trace a path over that creamy expanse he knew awaited him beneath her clothing. He wanted her—and he hated her for making him want her. She was his enemy. She had violated his mind and he still didn't know how much of his innermost thoughts she had seen.
Using every ounce of emotional strength he had left, he tore his mouth from hers and pushed himself away. She opened her eyes languidly and gazed up at him, confused by his sudden withdrawal. Invisible fingers gripped him by the throat and he took another step back from her, putting more distance between them.
"There, Captain," he said harshly, "that's how it feels to be left in the lurch. "Whether it's in your mind or in real life, it amounts to the same thing—frustration, and when someone else is in control—humiliation."
He forced himself to look at her and was in time to see the softness fade from her eyes and a rapid series of emotions flash across the turquoise depths: hurt, disbelief, embarrassment, and finally, raw fury. She straightened her tunic, pulling the hem back down where it belonged, hiding the long legs he still longed to caress. He looked down at the floor, willing the thought away as he waited for the barrage of profanity—and probable physical violence—to begin. Nothing happened. He glanced back up at her.
Sky stood pressed against the wall, her hands flat against the panel, her gaze lowered too, hair cascading across her face like a silver curtain she hid behind. He could see even from three feet away that she was trembling, and he felt the cold, hard regret slice through him again, more deeply. Why he felt such regret he wasn't sure. She deserved what he had put her through—and more. But he wasn't that kind of man, that kind of monster—was he? Had all the years of being willing to do whatever it took as a soldier finally coalesced into this? A total disregard for human dignity?
But Sky had her own dignity. She pushed away from the wall and without looking at him, head erect, shoulders square, eyes straight ahead, she walked past Eagle and out the door. He cursed himself roundly, eloquently, wishing she had stayed to hear.
Sky made it to her quarters before the shame hit her. Once inside with the door locked, she let the stark, unfamiliar emotion flood over her, send her to her knees beside her bed, and she leaned her head against the side of the bunk, her eyes dry and wide with shock.
How could she have done such a thing? What in the world was the matter with her? First she tried to seduce the man in her mind and now she melted into his arms at the first opportunity in real life—pressed against the briefing room wall like a whore from a pleasure planet! Her eyes closed and her face burned as she allowed her tortured muscles to collapse. She fell to her knees and stretched out flat across the floor, her hands beneath her face, her eyes clenched shut.
She had never had a man touch her like that before—like she was a desirable woman. She had loved Redar, intensely, totally, but the few times they had made love she felt he was doing it only to appease her, not because he truly desired her. True, he had been ten years older than she, but it hadn't mattered to her as much as it had to him. Or else it was as Kell said, and his only real interest in her was what she could do for his business and his rebel activities. And Kell—he was her friend, her confidant, but in spite of his open adoration of her, she did not feel an attraction to him in the way a woman should. Since she had taken over the Defiant? none of the men aboard dared approach her as anything less than the captain—Kell saw to that—and so she had reached the age of twenty-six years with little experience in this area. Was that why she had crumbled like a tooki-cake in Eagle's arms? Was that why she felt as though her heart, her soul, the very core of her being was on fire when he touched her?
She pulled herself up to her knees, and with effort, pulled herself onto the bunk, rolling to her back, one arm flung across her eyes. Of course, that was all it was. She was a grown woman who'd had no time for things of a sexual nature in her life. It was only normal
she would experience desire sooner or later. But why with this—this—spawn of Satan? Better she should give herself to Kell than to the son of the man who had killed her own father. What had she been thinking?
She groaned aloud. She hadn't been thinking; that was the problem. She had made herself vulnerable to the enemy and the worst of it was, now they needed him and Eagle knew it. He wouldn't hesitate to gloat about this, use it to embarrass her in front of her crew if he got the opportunity—or to blackmail her. Or would he? She released her breath explosively and sat up, hugging her arms tightly around her. When he had flung himself away from her, he had seemed so harsh, so vindictive, and she had known, suddenly, horrifyingly, that he had been using her to make a point, to say, "In this arena I hold the power." But she had also seen the look in his eyes, had caught a glimmer of regret and his own shame. Or had she imagined it—conjured it in order to save her own pride?
Her fingers moved unconsciously over her body, touching herself lightly, smoothing her hands down the length of her body as his hands had only moments before. She shuddered as she realised she still wanted him—in spite of his parentage, in spite of his arrogance, in spite of it all. And he wanted her too—no matter how he sought to deny it, to himself or to her.
"So where do we go from here?" she wondered aloud, and quickly scolded herself. "Idiot! There is no time for this nonsense! Concentrate on how you're going to get your crew out of this mess and still save Mayla!"
But not right now. Right now she was too tired. How long had it been since she had slept? She didn't know, but the encounter with Eagle had left her shaken and weak. She needed to rest, to rebuild her strength. She pressed the switch on the corn next to her bed, activating the link to the bridge.
"Kell, this is the captain. I have decided to speak with the colonel in a few hours. Please take him back to the cargo hold until you hear from me."
Kell's voice came back to her and she could almost see his blue brow lifting in disapproval. "Are you sure that's wise? We shouldn't antagonize him if we want his help."
"I'm not in the mood to argue," she said, lying back on her bunk and hoping the fatigue didn't show in her voice. "Put him in the hold and post a guard and tell him we'll talk later. I doubt he'll give you much argument about it."
"What makes you think so?"
Sky closed her eyes wearily. "Just do it, Kell. Sky out." She reached over and snapped off the link. Now she would sleep. Now she would strengthen her body and her mind for what lay ahead. But sleep did not come easily, and every time she had almost drifted off, the image of herself and Eagle intertwined in each other's arms would send a swift denial through her veins and awaken her. At last she slept from sheer exhaustion, but her dreams were of a handsome man who turned suddenly into a great bird and flew high above her, leaving her with empty, outstretched arms.
Eagle had made up his mind. He had to get off of this ship. He had to find Telles, take the child to safety and plan how he would use her to force Zarn to listen to his ideas about the future of the Dominion. He paced the small confines of the briefing room, remembering with disgust how only a few hours ago he had been seducing a woman he despised. She must have gotten over her embarrassment because Kell had found him and clapped him back in the cargo bay for six long hours until the captain deigned to see him again. He didn't blame her. He clasped his hands behind his back, and pushing the thought from his mind, focused his attention on his situation. Why did she want the kid so badly in the first place?
A memory came rushing back at him: He was lying on the floor of his office on Station One right after Sky had beat the hell out of him. Her words cut through this mind. "We will not waste time with you, Guardian—or should we call you murderer—mindstealer—defiler of children?"
How had he forgotten that? Well, he had been pretty out of it for a while, and then there had been too much else to deal with even to think about everything leading up to how he had gotten here. But now that he thought about it, those words didn't belong to someone who wanted to bring harm to a child like Mayla. Those words belonged to someone who hated Zarn and cared about children. Those words belonged to a rebel.
He sat down abruptly in one of the chairs near the table, trying to think it through. She would be there any minute. Kell had shoved him into the briefing room and told him to wait. No doubt they were planning how they were going to force him to honor his promise to help them. He linked his hands together on top of the table. He had to think. He had to figure this out.
All right, so she hated Zarn, probably. So what? Half the quadrant hated him. So she had made a statement about the children, in defense of them. Again, so what? And so what if she was a rebel? That didn't mean she didn't have her own agenda for Mayla. That didn't mean she wasn't a black-hearted witch who had tried to probe his mind first with a machine and then with her own power. So what would be his stance? His angle? His position when they walked into the room? Clenching his jaws together so tightly they ached, Eagle made up his mind. He didn't know why she wanted the child but he had to reach Telles, and one way or another Captain Sky was going to take him there—but not with a crew of twenty aboard waiting to clap him back in the cargo hold once they arrived. They would leave the bulk of her crew at a designated place, or he would refuse to help her evade Zarn and he sure as hell wouldn't lead her to Mayla. But she must already know that he had no idea where the kid was. She'd been inside his head. She must know everything.
He took a deep breath as the door to the room slid open and Sky, this time accompanied by Kell and the security chief, walked in, one at a time. Eagle deliberately leaned back in the hard chair, feigning an ease he didn't feel as he let his gaze rake over the now demurely clad captain. She wore her regular uniform, this one charcoal gray and as far from sensual as a garment could possibly be. She shot him an answering, appraising glare. He only hoped his own green eyes conveyed the depth of his contempt.
"Captain," he said, inclining his head as she entered. "We meet again in the briefing room. This place is beginning to be filled with fond memories for me." She flushed at his words before slamming back the chair opposite him and taking her place.
"We have been on this rock for almost eight hours, Colonel," Sky said, her voice crisp, professional. "You will help us leave undetected by your father."
Eagle folded his arms across his chest and studied her. He liked the way she sat so erectly, shoulders back, her hair neatly coiled at the nape of her neck. Every inch the captain. Every inch under that long-sleeved gray uniform. Every inch of that smooth creamy skin he had touched not so long ago.
Appalled at himself, Eagle tried to balance the thought by shooting her a cocky look and folding his arms across his chest. He felt an immense pleasure when his next words sent a flame of anger into her turquoise eyes.
"Will I really, Captain?" he said casually. "And why is that?"
She stared at him, stone-faced, and he gave her credit for not wavering even slightly under his gaze. "Because if you don't, I'll kill you."
The side of his mouth twitched. The smile spread across his lips, culminating in a loud burst of laughter that made Kell and the security officer frown. Sky stood, slapped her hands down on the tabletop, and leaned toward him. The movement shook her and the neat chignon at the nape of her neck came loose, her long hair falling over one shoulder. Eagle felt his senses stir and foolishly wanted to reach out and take it between his fingers, wanted to draw her toward him and kiss her until she couldn't speak.
"You think I won't?" she demanded.
Eagle couldn't stop looking at her. Why did the witch have to have such soft, luscious lips? He felt Kell's gaze on him and he quickly pulled himself back to the situation at hand, lifting one brow in a gesture of unconcern.
"Damn right I think you won't. Not if you have any sense, which, granted, is doubtful. I'm the only hope you have of getting away from Zarn, darlin', and I'm the only way you'll ever get your hands on that kid."
"You piffle-watted—"
>
"Uh-uh." Eagle wagged one finger at her, turning her potential tirade into sputtered curses. "Don't make the man mad or he may not help you."
Sky sat back down in her chair, her shoulders rigid, her hands still splayed on the surface of the table. Eagle found himself noticing how small her hands were, how well manicured. Her nails were short, rounded into smooth half moons. He blinked, wondering if he was losing his mind. "What do you want, space-boy?" she snapped. "Or should I say, how much do you want to get us away from Daddy and lead us to the child?"
He stared at her, startled. Then she didn't know. She'd been inside his mind, but she didn't know that Mayla's whereabouts were as big a mystery to him as to her. He quickly recovered.
"Didn't you see her location when you rummaged through my brain?" he asked.
"I didn't mean to read your mind," she said, sounding annoyed. "I assure you it was a most unpleasant experience."
"Thank you."
"To read anyone's mind." She drummed her fingers on the desk. "I was… resting. You came in and must have touched me." She shot him a derisive look. "My mind is very sensitive for a telepath, and somehow you were pulled into my meditative trance. But to get back to your concerns, reading someone's mind isn't as easy as most people think," she said, sounding annoyed. "There are sections, pockets, nooks, crannies. Finding one particular thought or one bit of information can be extremely difficult. Now, please, how much do you want?"
So she really didn't know. Terrific. It was time to strike a deal. "I don't want your credits." One of the woman's brows darted upward. "Then what do you want?"