Tor (Women of Earth Book 2)

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  "Thank you for this second chance," she whispered, "I'm not expecting any miracles, but I wouldn't say no to a little help. He's worth saving and so are they."

  Tor was reclining in an oval pool of bubbling water. It was larger than a hot tub, though not nearly as deep. He started to rise. "I'll leave you to your privacy," he said.

  He was naked and in full view of the hotel across the way. No wonder Posy and Ish had no sense of privacy. No one did.

  She raised her hand. "No, stay. I came to apologize."

  "For what?" He eased himself back down. Arms propped on the tile edging, he stretched out his full length.

  "For doubting you. For doubting myself. It's a personal flaw, but I'm working on it." Wynne lifted her robe enough to sit and dangle her feet and lower legs in the water. "You tried to explain and I wouldn't let you. Posy told me."

  "I wish he hadn't. It's better that you should go with a more accurate picture of who I am."

  "Why do you do that? Pretend to be someone you're not when everyone who really knows you also knows that it's a lie. You're a good man, Tor."

  "Don't confuse loyalty with goodness, Princess. I sail my own course. I bend the rules to suit me. I follow no law but my own. I see an opportunity and I take it. That's how I got you."

  "Really? How so?"

  "You really don't know?" Tor shook his head, but didn't bother to hide his smile. "You have a bad habit of only seeing the good in people. You really need to break it. It makes you vulnerable to people like me, and Posy, and Ish."

  "You forgot Truca, and Chubo, and Nix. They're terrible people, too, and a danger to us all." Wynne laughed to temper the sarcasm. "And don't forget Mohawk. The man's a womanizer, who drinks and swears too much, makes inappropriate comments, and thinks it's fun to feed people to the dogs. Literally. I'm guess I'm completely blind to what he is, too, but we were talking about how you got me." She swung her legs in the water and folded her hands in her lap like the innocent little girl she wasn't. "Please, go on."

  "Fine."

  Tor sounded a little put out, but that was too bad. Wynne had the sense that he was using his 'badness' to justify what he was planning to do. She wasn't about to let him do it.

  "I saw you on the ship," he told her with a shrug of nonchalance. "I saw how gentle and refined you were compared to those others and those clothes you wore did nothing to hide your beauty. You were the real thing. I knew you had a private berth and a trained soldier to guard you. I knew you were a princess. You weren't part of my original plan, but when that failed, my plan changed.

  "It was as if Hadrid himself had set you in my path, a princess worth as much as all the other brides combined. I could trade you for the Sky Hawk and Honarie would think he got the best of the deal."

  "You thought I was gentle and refined, and beautiful. It doesn't get any more flattering than that," she confided with a dreamy smile. She flicked water at him with her toes. "Who's Hadrid?"

  "Who's Hadrid?" he repeated. He was beginning to lose patience. "Who cares? I'm talking about trading you for the Sky Hawk."

  Wynne shrugged. This was much more fun than losing her temper. "I know perfectly well what you're talking about, but I keep hearing the name and it bothers me that I don't know who he is."

  "He's the patron god of sky sailors. When you meet your end, you enter his fiery seas and he rewards you with women and strong drink. An eternity of good times."

  "Hmm." She frowned. "We're going to have to talk about that, but we'll save it for later. Let's get back to trading me for the Sky Hawk." She raised her eyebrows to indicate he should continue.

  "What more is there? I didn't save you. I took you to trade. Why aren't you listening to me? All that shit I handed you about not dealing in slave trafficking was just that. Shit. I own Chubo and Nix. I was going to sell you to the highest bidder and the price was my ship. Will you take off that pretty blindfold you wear and see what's right in front of you?"

  "Mira calls it my rose colored glasses. What is it about me that people think I don't see others as they truly are? I do." The only person she'd never seen clearly was herself. "It isn't that I don't believe you, Tor, or that I hadn't thought about the possibility. It makes perfect sense to me. You were desperate. Your plan had failed and there I was, another opportunity. Quick thinker that you are, you made your decision in a second. Lucky thing for me that you did. Thank you for that. Two minutes later, you realized you couldn't go through with it. Thank you for that, too."

  "I kidnapped you." His confession was a whispered roar.

  "Bah." She blew his confession off with a wave of her hand. "It started out that way, but it ended the minute you left that laundry chute open for Mohawk to find. Propping that door open at the top of those rickety stairs was a dead giveaway. If it wasn't, programming the third escape pod would have been. Hansel and Gretel couldn't have left a better trail of crumbs." She waved her hands to stop his question. "It's a children's story. Hansel leaves a trail of crumbs so his father can follow and rescue them," she explained.

  "My point is that you knew Mohawk was behind us. You gave him the chance to follow. Why would you do that when you knew he would only be a hindrance to your big trade?"

  "You don't know everything."

  "I don't have to know everything. It's enough that I know you, and I love you because of what you are, and in spite of what you are, just like those people in there do." She tossed her head back to indicate the others. "Come inside, Tor. Come inside so I can show you how much I love you and how deeply you've touched my heart." She pulled her feet from the pool and stood.

  "You took it back, remember?"

  "I do. Can't you see it in my bleary eyes and red nose? I knew as soon as I said it that it was a lie, Tor, and wrong. I was angry, but that should never be an excuse to lie. I couldn't take my heart back even if I wanted to. You hold it too tightly next to yours."

  "Do you really mean that?" he asked.

  "I do," she said and meant those words in a way Tor would never understand. "For better or worse, together or apart, as long as we both shall live."

  He nodded solemnly as if he really did understand that for her, those words were more than a declaration of love. They were her vow.

  "Come join with me, Wynne." He held out his hand to her.

  "I can't." She glanced at their glass surround and forced a nervous laugh meant to soften her refusal "Like you, I have lines I won't cross. You can call it my obedience to my lover's wishes if you like. Weren't you the one who objected to that robe? Now you want me to expose the whole package to the world. Make up your mind, big guy."

  "I have," he said, again so solemnly that she knew he meant more than sex in the pool. "I would never ask you to do anything that crossed one of your lines, Wynne. Look at the doors. What do you see?"

  What she saw was six witnesses feeding their faces and not one of them was looking their way. Not yet.

  "What did you see from the other side?"

  She heard him chuckle, but continued to watch the others. Mouth full, Mohawk looked up, staring right at her. She expected a lascivious wink or some other sign that said he recognized the connection. There was none. He went back to eating.

  The glass was black. Wynne circled the pool to peer out into the night. The brightly lit balconies of other hotels were interrupted by segments of black. They must have pools, too. She could see out, but no one could see in.

  "Can they hear us?" she asked.

  "Can you hear them?"

  Wynne slipped off her robe in answer.

  Tor didn't wait for her to enter the pool. Water cascaded from his broad shoulders and was driven to the center line of his body by the squared mounds of his pecs. It wove along the valley created by the rolling hills of his abdominals and forced her eye to his erection, full and pulsing with his need. Powerful thighs joined well-formed calves in perfect balance with the torso above. Even his feet were perfect in length and breadth to support that muscular frame.

&nbs
p; "You're beautiful," she whispered.

  "I was thinking the same of you."

  And then his hands were on her, gently molding her breasts. Enjoying the pleasure those hands brought, Wynne closed her eyes and leaned into them.

  She smiled. Was it odd that for all his masculine perfection, it was these least perfect extremities that she loved the most? His hands were too large for the arms they extended. His palms were too broad, his knuckles too big for the blunt tipped fingers. His nails were uneven, trimmed by his knife. A roadmap of veins crisscrossed the backs and the pads on the underside were calloused and rough.

  Whether caressing her cheek or massaging her breasts, she loved the feel of those hands. Their touch excited her body and warmed her soul.

  She slid her hands up his arms reveling in the feel of his skin. She traced his ears with her fingers and lingered at the slightly pointed tips. They were sensitive to her touch and he made the contented sound she hoped for. She clasped his head, over his ears, and rose on tiptoe to reach his mouth with hers. Without breaking the kiss, they laughed together as each moaned with the pleasure of the contact.

  His hands slid down and around her body to her rear end, gliding over the soft surface and cupping the globes at the base. With her hands braced at his shoulders, she assisted the lift as if they'd done this many times before. After so short a time together, their bodies meshed so well. It was another proof to her that this was right and meant to be.

  With her legs clasping his waist, he turned and pressed her against the outer glass of the enclosure. The glass was cold against her back, made more so by the heat building at her body's core.

  It was she who broke the kiss to murmur, "Please."

  Braced against the glass, he positioned her with one hand beneath her rear while moving his hips away just enough to use his other hand to guide his erection. She was already wet with her need of him and he entered easily, rocking gently against her until he was fully seated. Hand by her head, Tor slowly set the rhythm.

  Opening her eyes to the night outside their dome of glass, Wynne was surrounded by the dancing lights of the city as they reflected off the moving water of the pool. Stars twinkled above them as if in delight of their silent union.

  Always mindful of her pleasure while seeking his own, Tor adjusted their bodies until the angle of their movements brought pressure to bear on her clit. The exquisite torture of that pressure brought her higher and higher until he was pounding into her and slapping her sweat slicken body against the glass. Her tiny moans and the movement of her hips drove him deeper into her body until she reached her peak and was driven over the edge.

  Tor pounded into her, faster and faster, through the clenching tightness of her orgasm until he reached his own. No words were spoken. There were no words for this union of souls.

  Sated, Wynne relaxed in the warmth of his embrace. Head back and resting on the glass, she stroked her fingers over her lover's back. Tor's face was still buried in the crook of her shoulder. In spite of his powerful release, his muscles remained coiled and tense.

  "I don't want to give you up," he whispered, "But I can see no other way."

  "We can't lose this Tor. What we have here is too precious to lose. What you have with your crew is precious, too. There has to be a way to save us all."

  Chapter 28

  Posy entered the suite from the main door as Tor and Wynne came in from the pool. He smiled when he saw the two holding hands.

  "Looks like a relaxing swim did you both some good."

  Mohawk snorted. "I doubt they were swimming." He grinned when Wynne said his name in warning. "What? That pool's smaller than my mother's kitchen sink. Get your mind out of the mud."

  "Did you find anything?" Tor asked.

  "Nothing concrete, but I found two possibilities, one of whom had a small chest of jewelry and boxes of new clothes meant for a woman, but no evidence that one was there. Two bodyguards, neither was present. What was more interesting was the Willenian bukesh hanging in the closet of the other. Again, no other sign of a woman, and no sign the guy's into wearing it himself. He's not like me, so what reason would he have to keep a bukesh?"

  Wynne took that to mean the man wasn't an assassin. "What's a bukesh?"

  "It's a head to toe covering only Willenian women wear," Ish explained. "No one but close family and servants see her without it. Why have one unless it's to disguise someone who isn't Willenian?"

  "I almost borrowed it," Posy said.

  Nix, who'd scurried from the room, returned with a towel. Eyes lowered, she held it out to Wynne with a subservient bob of her shoulders. "Nix offers this to dry your hair." She hesitated. "Wynne."

  "How thoughtful and how necessary." Wynne took it from her and used it to pat her wet head. "Thank you, Nix."

  The woman beamed in response. "I am born to..." she began, but switched to, "You're welcome."

  "She's a plump and pretty one." Chubo said to no one in particular. He was in a better mood now that he was clean and fed. "Is the captain going to keep her? Is she one of the crew?"

  The question was one for Tor, but Wynne answered. "That remains to be seen." She looked up at the man beside her. "There will always be a you and me. Is there an us?" She looked from Tor to the others. "Are they a unit or do they all go their separate ways?"

  "That's not the question," Ish answered. "We're already a crew and we're staying that way. Do we have a captain? Because I'm not kissing Posy's ass."

  "Not as Captain, anyway."

  "Fuck you."

  "Exactly."

  Tor ignored the two as he usually did. "Honarie and Orax have to pay," he said stubbornly and Wynne felt the tension in the room rise as if it was a living thing. Tor must have felt it, too, because he relented with a sigh. "How do we make that happen? What we know and what can be proven are two different things. Even with proof, there's no guarantee it gets to court. Who knows how many peacekeepers Honarie wears in his boot and his buyers aren't average citizens. They're men of wealth and power. They had to have been carefully selected. And protected," he added.

  "Facts, Tor. Let's begin with facts." Wynne took his hand and led him to a seat on one of the sofas. "And food. Is there any left?"

  "I got it, Nix." Truca jumped up before the other woman could.

  "Fact, Wynne. No one saw either of the brothers steal the Sky Hawk. The ones that took Truca, Ish, and Posy are probably dead, and I never saw who hit me. Fact: Honarie wasn't on the Romer II and neither was Orax. I was. We've been over this before." Tor picked up a meat pastry, looked at it, and put it back on the plate.

  "Chubo? Nix? Did you see Honarie or Orax on the Sky Hawk? Did you hear their voices? Did anyone mention them?" Ish asked.

  Both heads bobbled from side to side.

  "Chubo and Nix saw only two. They said our master was dead. They own the Sky Hawk and Chubo and Nix. If Chubo and Nix did as they were told, Truca would live, and they would not be sent back to the Macrin." The man cringed at the thought of a return to slavery and maybe death. "Did Chubo and Nix do wrong?"

  "It's what I would have done," Ish reassured them.

  They whispered together and then Nix looked up. "Nix was in her bag. Nix heard someone, not the two, speak of my fat bastard brother, Horny. Does this help?"

  Wynne smiled her encouragement. "It's a start."

  "No matter what they heard, it's still my ship, my pilot and navigator." Tor didn't elaborate, but didn't have to. Technically, he owned all three.

  "Except they were told they had new owners. As Hukas, they'd accept what they were told," Posy reasoned. "Add in Truca and the threat of being sent home, and you've got a pretty convincing case of coercion."

  Tor still looked doubtful.

  "Forget that angle for a minute," Wynne suggested. "What about what we learned at Alamandria's."

  "That's Alamandria's issue, not ours. Same goal, different reasons."

  "But they overlap, Ish." Wynne appealed to the others. "Adjutant Yatos is in H
onarie's pocket. He's also connected to Senator Riegard. Together, they lied about the suicide of Senator Plincoff."

  "What's this?" Posy asked.

  "That's right, you weren't there." Wynne repeated what was said.

  "Plincoff was murdered in Imperial City," Posy concluded as one who should know. "Probably in this hotel. Kept at the right temperature, you could take his body back to his home. Better yet, keep him alive until you get there. Suicides aren't that hard to fake if you know what you're doing, and a fall from a balcony can do a lot of damage. With a reliable witness like Senator Riegard, there would be little investigation, particularly if Plincoff had few enemies. Death by misadventure or suicide is the best result an assassin could ask for. Who was this Senator Plincoff?" he asked Tor.

  "Retired member of the Godan Senate," Tor said. "According to Alamandria, well respected among his peers."

  "And mentor to newly minted mordata cosmas," Wynne added. "He apparently had a My Fair Lady thing going where he turned poor young women like me into Alamandrias. He called them all Piatchu and it sounded like he remained friends with most of them when they moved on." She paused in thought, and then asked. "What if Senator Plincoff knew? What if he heard from his former Piatchus about losing their current patrons? What if the auction has already been held? What if this is the delivery point?"

  "Whoa, slow down there, Kushma." Tor patted Wynne's bouncing knee. "So much for facts, heh?"

  "It's a fact that Riegard dumped his cosma," she countered. "If she didn't know it, she felt it. It's a fact that Riegard was staying at this hotel and according to his cosma, he's been here a long time. That's why you chose it."

  Posy raised his hands. "Don't look at me," he said to Tor.

  "It won't matter how long Riegard was here." Ish stated flatly. "We're talking big time Godan credits. These aren't young men. They've had time to increase the family coffers. No one would see anything odd in an extended holiday on Shudish. They'd assume he brought his mordata cosma," Ish reasoned, "and if he'd already made it known that they'd parted ways, no one would be surprised if he returned with another."