The Seas of Time (A Love Across Stars Series Novel)

by Christine Castle

  She turned her gaze to Not-Lee’s legs, just a few feet away. Watching as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, she could see the contours of his well-developed quads and calves as well as if he wore nothing. Like all of the other men, he was broad-shouldered and very muscular on top, with a lean waist and well-toned legs. All of the men had the V shape that serious swimmers developed after years of training.

  She squinted at Not-Lee’s ankle, where the texture of his skin-tight pants was definitely different than farther up his legs. Around the thighs, the texture was bumpier, actually kind of scaly looking, as Janelle had insisted. From the knees down, the texture blended from scaly into more striated patterns.

  As she watched, an edge of material lifted from Not-Lee’s lower right shin. It seemed to twitch before it curved around his ankle and sealed itself to his leg again. He reached down to scratch at the spot. Talia raised her head and blinked hard. That had looked an awful lot like the edge of a fin. She drew a sharp breath in through her nose, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. The stress and exhaustion must be getting to her.

  “I could really go for a handful of aspirin, a gooey calzone, and a soft pillow right now,” Janelle whispered without moving her mouth.

  Talia clamped her teeth down on her lips to keep from bursting out in a very uncharacteristic fit of giggles that was trying to bubble up her throat. Yes, the exhaustion was definitely making her loopy. She must have been imagining things as she’d zoned out for a few moments. Her stomach growled and she hunched over it, trying to quiet the reminder that it had been a very long time since she’d eaten.

  When the men by the control area started shifting around and the captain moved close to Nielson, who was wearing his headset again, Talia bumped Janelle with her elbow and tilted her head at the men. “Something’s happening. Must be time to get on the submarine,” she whispered.

  The guards told the women to stand along the wall, and Talia gritted her teeth as she pushed her cold, protesting muscles into motion. She hid her hands in the folds of her sarong, hoping the guards wouldn’t see the pouch on her wrist that now contained Ballard’s knife. Not confident she could keep it hidden, she put her back to the wall, slid the pouch’s cord off her wrist, and tucked the pouch into the back of her bikini bottom and made sure the sarong covered the lump.

  It felt like she’d been wearing this bikini for days. The fabric had dried against her skin, the salty residue making the areas under the elastic bands itch. If she ever got out of here, she wasn’t sure she’d ever want to put on a swimsuit again. But, she should probably be more grateful—at least she hadn’t lost parts of her suit in the ocean like a couple of the other women. She noticed that someone had taken pity on the poor naked girl and given her a little pale pink terry skirt that must have been worn as a cover-up. She grimaced and exhaled a long breath. What a nightmare this spring break had turned out to be.

  With a hiss of releasing air pressure, a round section of the wall popped open, revealing a doorway out of the dome. The captain and the others who’d been working near him went through first, and then several guards led the women out after them, with a few men going last.

  Talia took one last look around the dome as she followed Janelle through the doorway. They moved into a narrow rounded hallway that looked like a large pipe. The only light came from small LEDs on the long, thin guns the men carried. The floor was wet and so cold that Talia’s feet were aching within seconds. The line of women was soon a shivering parade of gooseflesh.

  It had to be barely above freezing in here, but the men seemed unbothered by the cold. Talia’s breath puffed out in humid white clouds that quickly dissipated into the air. She threw a glance at Lee, who was walking just ahead of her next to Janelle. Not a goose bump to be seen.

  It was too dark to see much ahead, but the low sounds of large motors amplified as they walked through the tube.

  Talia clamped her arms to her sides, her teeth chattering as she shivered. “Damn, I hope the submarine has heat,” she muttered through her clenched teeth.

  “It’ll be warmer ‘n it is in here,” Not-Lee said softly behind her.

  She flicked a quick look over her shoulder, nodding her thanks. “I’m Talia. What’s your name?” Might as well try to keep working on making a friend, if she could.

  Not-Lee hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Private Benjamin,” he whispered.

  Talia’s shoulders rose as she let out a little chuckle that dissolved into a shiver.

  “What?” he asked defensively.

  “Private Benjamin? You know, that movie with Goldie Hawn?”

  He cleared his throat again. “Uh . . . guess I don’t know about that.”

  Talia frowned. Well, it was a pretty old movie. Maybe Not-Lee—Benjamin—was just too young to have heard of it.

  She lifted her chin and rose to her toes to try to look over the heads in front of her as the mechanical noises grew louder. Her eyes automatically drifted to Ballard, who was near the front of the line with the captain. She got the feeling Ballard had been deliberately avoiding her since the captain’s tantrum following the power outage.

  There was a loud clang ahead that echoed through the hallway, and the line stopped moving. When it started again, Talia could tell they’d reached the end. It wasn’t until she’d moved up several feet that she saw those ahead of her were disappearing down through the floor. Maynard and one of the other guards stood on either side of an opening in the floor, helping each woman turn and step down a ladder.

  When one of the men below reached up to help Talia and grabbed one of her butt cheeks in addition to her arm, she reflexively lifted her foot and shoved her heel back sharply. The hands let go of her, and too late she realized her mistake. She wobbled, and with her wrists still bound, she couldn’t reach out to catch herself. Gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyelids closed, she braced herself for a painful fall. Instead, her shoulder blades and the backs of her thighs landed against muscled arms. She cracked an eyelid open to see Ballard’s face inches from hers, looking down at her with one brow arched. His eyes were light brown, with yellow-green flecks the color of kelp. His lips twitched as if he barely managed to suppress a grin.

  Her heart dipped in her chest and then took off thumping so hard she wondered if he could hear it. In spite of the cold, the heat of a blush prickled up her chest and neck, and her cheeks went hot. With her hands pulled behind her back, her arms were angled down behind her, and her upper arm rested against his ribs and the side of her breast pressed against his pec. His bare chest was smooth as stone, practically poreless. With an unexpected flash of disappointment, she realized she was too cold and numb to really feel the texture of his skin.

  He seemed to hesitate a moment longer than necessary before lowering her feet to the ground.

  “Nice catch.” She gave him a wry smile, trying to cover her internal reaction to tumbling into his arms.

  He nodded. And then in the subtlest of movements, he pulled the center of his bottom lip in between his teeth. He turned his gaze to the ladder and the next girl who needed assistance, but now she was positive he was hiding a smile.

  She glanced at the man across from Ballard, the one who’d tried to cop a feel. It was Gentry, and he was shooting a menacing glare her way. There was a red mark where her heel had made contact with his head, just above his temple. Twice, now, she’d smacked him in the head. Not that he hadn’t deserved it, but the look he was giving her said that he’d very much like a chance to pay her back for the injuries.

  The space below the short ladder was becoming crowded, and the guards started moving the women into a narrow, low-ceilinged hallway. As Benjamin had promised, it was warmer here. Not enough to be truly comfortable walking around barefoot in only a bathing suit, but anything was an improvement over the freezing tube they’d just left.

  After several turns through poorly lit hallways, the lead guards took the women down a short corridor that opened into what looked like a small caf
eteria. Talia ducked reflexively, though the ceiling was a good foot above her head. Everything was a little smaller and spaced closer together than comfort or aesthetics would demand.

  “Find a seat,” Ballard called out. “One at a time, we’ll untie you and take you to the head.”

  “Head?” The strawberry blonde—Caroline—said with a worried look on her face.

  “The bathroom,” Talia responded distractedly. Her grandfather had served in the military and often used the expression “hit the head.”

  She was trying to catch Ballard’s eye. If anyone but him untied her, she was afraid her pouch might be discovered.

  “Benjamin and I will take these two tables,” Ballard said, pointing to Talia’s table and the one next to it where Janelle sat with three other women. “Gentry, you and Lee take the next two.”

  Talia let out a slow breath of relief. Either Ballard had read her silent message, or she’d just gotten lucky.

  More of the men crowded into the cramped room, and a moment later there was a low bang that seemed to rattle through the whole sub.

  Nielson appeared in the doorway. “Echo is boarding, sir,” he said to the captain. “They’re sending men to the con-comm room.”

  The captain nodded without looking at him. Talia noticed Ballard’s broad shoulders stiffen at Nielson’s news. Or maybe it was just Nielson’s arrival and earlier accusation about Ballard causing trouble that put him on edge.

  The captain turned to Ballard and gave him some orders that Talia couldn’t hear. Ballard saluted, and then the captain left with Nielson and a few other men in tow.

  Ballard started with Caroline, gesturing at her to stand. He told Benjamin to lead the way, and Benjamin, Caroline, and Ballard left the cafeteria.

  Gentry and Lee did the same with Midori. That left four men to guard the women in the cafeteria.

  Maynard strolled over and sat in the chair vacated by Caroline. He tilted his head and examined Talia’s face in a way that sent chills spilling down her scalp and spine.

  She kept still and returned his gaze without blinking. “What’s your problem?” she finally asked, masking her unease behind irritation.

  “Looks like Maynard wants to examine the cargo,” one of the men said with a snicker. The others laughed and made lewd, guttural noises of agreement.

  Maynard’s head whipped around to the guy who’d made the comment. “Shut up.” He said it in an even, mild tone, but the man started and clamped his lips shut as if Maynard were his superior and had just screamed in his face.

  Talia licked her dry lips. She knew Maynard was one of the lower-ranking men in the group, but the others seemed afraid of him, or at least uneasy around him. She didn’t blame them. There was a cold and predatory quality to his mannerisms.

  Maynard’s gaze slid downward, taking in her shoulders and arms, and then her chest, stomach, and legs. “You look strong,” he said. “An athlete.”

  The way he said it made her skin crawl. He stared at her for several silent seconds before shifting his attention to examine some of the other women.

  When Ballard appeared in the doorway and Maynard turned away from the women, she let out a breath, glad to no longer be the object of Maynard’s intense inspection. Ballard’s eyes narrowed when he saw the man sitting next to Talia.

  “Maynard, report to the galley and see what’s holding up the food,” Ballard barked.

  Maynard stood, obviously irritated to be called upon. He glared at Ballard before finally saying, “Yes, sir.”

  Caroline left Ballard and Benjamin and reclaimed her seat. Now her hands were bound in front of her. With their hands in front of them, they’d be able to eat. Not that food was really foremost on her mind, but at some point hunger would seriously weaken any effort at escape.

  Ballard flipped his fingers at Talia, beckoning her to stand. Her pulse quickened as she followed Benjamin out of the cafeteria, hyper-aware of Ballard walking behind her. The young Private led her down narrow hallways, around a couple of turns, and then stopped.

  “Benjamin, go ask the First Lieutenant where the captain wants the women after we’ve fed them, so we can prep their quarters,” Ballard said. He was fiddling with Talia’s hands, and after a second they fell free at her sides, and Ballard held the cord that had bound her wrists.

  “Yes, sir.” Benjamin scooted past them, trotted down the hallway, and disappeared around a corner.

  Talia stretched her arms forward, groaning. She had no idea how long she’d had to sit with her hands behind her back, but she wasn’t sure her shoulder joints would ever be the same.

  Ballard nodded at a narrow door. “That’s the head.”

  With a glance down the hall to make sure they were alone, she flicked her tongue over her dry lips and looked up into his eyes. “Who are you? Where are we going?” She stepped closer and planted her hands on her hips, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “And why did you give me your knife?”

  “I gave you my knife because my . . . mission is slightly different than theirs,” Ballard said. He threw a furtive look over his shoulder.

  He was moving toward her, and for one crazy moment, she thought he was going to try to kiss her. Then she realized he was herding her toward the bathroom door. He reached around her and pulled the door open, his forearm brushing her elbow. He crowded into her, forcing her to step into the closet-like space. The light flickered on as he stepped in with her, pulled the door closed, and latched it.

  The tiny space reminded her of an airplane bathroom. She tried to back up but ran into the compact counter. She grabbed the edge of the sink, and for a second his hip pressed against her forearm. They both shifted, and Talia could swear a faint flush colored Ballard’s cheeks.

  He tipped his head so he could look down into her face. The tops of her breasts were barely a hair’s width from the defined lower edges of his pecs. A curious tingle zipped around inside Talia’s chest.

  “I’m a spy. Those other men, they’re not supposed to go—to do the things they’re doing.”

  “Oh, you think?” She gave him an incredulous look. Her heart was racing with a confusing mix of pent-up anxiety from the events of the past several hours and an annoying fluttery feeling at Ballard’s sudden nearness. He was so close she could see that his chest and arms were completely hairless. He had a tiny scar, a line disrupting the border of his upper lip, just beside the divot of his cupid’s bow. “Kidnapping women isn’t something anyone should be doing! And a girl is dead!”

  She started to raise her arms to emphasize her outrage, but one hand bumped against the front of his thigh. Distracted, she didn’t know what to do with her hands and her tirade lost its momentum. She clasped her fingers together across her stomach. She couldn’t seem to stop casting quick looks at the tattoo that covered part of his chest.

  “I gave you my knife because I could see you were the most capable of the group, and I knew you could handle yourself better than the others in a fight.” He was speaking in a rapid whisper. Talia couldn’t help watching his lips. That little scar was somehow incredibly sexy and annoyingly distracting. “I’m very close to achieving my mission, but I think I’m going to need some help.”

  “I don’t give a . . . a flying duck about your mission, I just want to get out of here!” Talia tried to jam her hands on her hips, but there wasn’t enough space and her elbows knocked into the walls. She wrapped her forearms around her stomach and hugged herself.

  Ballard snorted a laugh. “Flying duck?”

  She waved a hand and nearly swiped him across the nose. “Not the important part, Ballard. Getting out of here is the relevant thing. That’s my mission.”

  He gave her an exasperated look, but his eyes glinted with quiet amusement. “If I’m successful, I will get you out of here.” He licked his lips and turned his head as if he’d heard something in the hallway. “We can’t stall any longer, I need to get you back.” He twisted to reach for the latch and for just a second his thigh hip pressed against
her stomach.

  She shook her head. That was it? If anything, she was even more unsettled than before. “Wait, you haven’t actually explained anything!”

  “I’ll have to find another opportunity for us to talk. You’d better use the facilities if you need to.” He stepped out and closed the door.

  She stared at the door for a moment, then let out a frustrated growl and threw up her hands. He was right; she might as well use the restroom while she had the chance. She flipped the latch to lock the door.

  When she stepped out of the bathroom, Ballard held up a cord. She held her hands together in front of her and he wrapped it around her wrists, much more loosely than he could have. Her heart was still thumping away, and the brush of his fingers over hers just seemed to make it worse.

  Maybe Janelle was right—Talia should have been making more of an effort to date. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be getting all ridiculously a-flutter around Ballard, as if he was the first bare-chested man she’d ever seen, the first man who’d ever touched her. Not that he was touching her like that . . . Talia ground her teeth. If there was ever a wrong time to get distracted by a man, it was now.

  When they got back to the cafeteria, some of the men gave them big Cheshire grins. “Sergeant Ballard is finally back,” one of them said.

  Gentry licked his lips suggestively. “Why should you have all the fun? We all need to take a turn.”

  There were a couple of bawdy noises and catcalls that quickly died when Ballard paused to look straight in the eyes of each man.

  Ballard’s jaw muscles clenched once, but he kept his expression neutral. Talia followed his lead, keeping her head up and ignoring the men.