Secrets Vol 2

  "You're awake." Arousal roughened his voice to a husky velvet drawl. With a twist of his powerful body, Roarke rolled her under him. She blinked as he loomed above her, staring down into her face. Yet the urgent lust she'd come to expect was absent from his eyes, replaced by something else, something...warmer.

  Tenderness?

  Lifting a hand, Roarke drew it gently through her hair, combing the pale strands back onto the pillow. His absorbed gaze flicked over the tangled silken mass, then came to rest again on her face. Slowly he lowered his head and kissed her, a deep, languorous tasting. Surprised at the softness of his mouth, Elise parted her lips. His tongue swept in to swirl around hers.

  Within her something slowly dissolved, a bitter ice chip of rage and hate melting beneath his surprising warmth.

  Leaving her vulnerable.

  Elise stiffened. She couldn't afford this. Not now. Not here, with her ship and her crew and herself in his control. She had to stop. She wrenched her head away, wincing at the sting as his teeth accidentally scraped her lip.

  Roarke drew back and studied her, puzzlement at her withdrawal evident on his face. "What?"

  "Don't you think you've proven your point?"

  Without moving, he seemed to pull away. "And which point is that?"

  "That you could seduce me." She steeled herself.

  "Ah, I see." His smile was very male. "Your pride again. You just can't allow yourself to enjoy the moment."

  His amusement stung, so she set out to sting back. "Oh, I did. But now the moment's past."

  Roarke arched a dark brow, his expression taking on a predatory cast. "Is it?"

  "Yes," Elise told him, forcing icy dispassion into her tone. God

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  help her if he started on her again. She'd never be able to resist him now that she knew what he was capable of doing to her. "Don't get me wrong, you were skillful. In fact, I think you're the best I've ever had. You seduced me with ease."

  The lids lowered over those dark, hot eyes. "Darling, I didn't just seduce you. I made you beg."

  “But I've had a bitch of a day," she continued, though she could feel a blush heating her cheeks, "and I need to get some sleep. If it's not too much to ask."

  With an abruptness that startled her, Roarke sat up, his strong hands grabbing her hips to flip her over on her belly. Before she could think to struggle, Elise found herself up on her knees, her bottom in the air, the hot head of his erection brushing her rump. His voice laced with humor and erotic menace, Roarke purred, "And what if it is too much to ask?"

  She couldn't show him any sign of reaction. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I'm far too tired to do you justice." Looking over her shoulder at him, Elise gave him a distant smile. "Perhaps later."

  Not at all offended, Roarke slowly rolled his hips against hers. I could change your mind..."

  She kept her gaze steady, cool, disinterested. It took entirely too much work.

  He stared back for so long she could feel her palms begin to sweat. Then, casually, he broke the moment, his lips pulling into a wry twist. "But unfortunately, I've got duty. So you're off the.. .hook, it were." Releasing her, Roarke rolled off the bed, then turned to quirk a brow at her. "For the time being."

  Elise watched as he sauntered into the head for a quick shower, anything but the picture of a rejected and sexually frustrated male.

  He hadn't bought it.

  Damn.

  And what was she going to do when he got off duty?

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  Roarke stepped under the stinging ice cold spray from the dozen tiny shower nozzles. God, that woman was stubborn. What did you expect, you dumb bastard? He endured the waterpounding the length of his cock, instantly killing his erection. You put her in neurocuffs and ripped her clothes off and screwed her. Was she supposed to roll over, smile sweetly, and swear her undying love? Maybe even admit last night meant as much to her as it did to you?

  And just what had last night meant to him?

  Hell, he had no idea. Punching the soap dispenser, he let a handful pour into his palm, then scrubbed his hair brutally. The whole obsession with Elise had begun so simply, touched off by the encounter on Tyus. Nothing but a recurring dark, kinky fantasy of seducing the enemy ice queen and making her beg. Typical male bullshit, raw ego at work. But she'd been more of a challenge than expected in her ridiculous little ship, more clever, more elusive. He'd become intrigued.

  In time, he'd become a lot more than intrigued — he'd become fascinated, obsessed, determined to have her. Until finally it wasn't a game anymore. He'd even begun to dream of her more often than he did Amin Nygaard. Dreams that were, God knew, a definite improvement over his usual torture-inspired nightmares.

  And then there was last night. He'd seduced her just as he'd planned since those first two-dimensional male fantasies. And it had been the best sex he'd had in his life. He'd held her while she slept, woke with her in his arms. And she'd felt.. .precious.

  Roarke considered the idea uneasily. It almost sounded as though she meant something to him, something more than a military victory that had morphed into a kinky bondage fantasy.

  Jesus. Was he falling in love with Elise Morrell?

  God, he hoped not. Conducting a romance with an enemy captain—particularly one on her way to a prison camp—would be practically impossible. Especially considering this particular captain was proud as a Deltan aristocrat and about as flexible as neutronium

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  plate. Surely he wasn't that stupid.

  But God, she'd felt so good lying in his arms this morning, warm and soft and sleeping, her long legs tangled with his...

  At that last thought, Roarke groaned, leaning his head back until cold water pounded his face.

  There was no doubt about it. He was screwed.

  ******************

  Roarke emerged from the head and prowled, magnificently naked, to his armor. Elise watched him dress, scanning his hard, angular features for any hint of emotion. This time she couldn't seem to read him.

  Suited up, Roarke walked to the computer pad set into the wall and keyed it on. "Captain Morrell is not permitted to leave her quarters.

  The pad beeped twice, acknowledging his orders. Elise knew he'd already had his computer expert reprogram the ship's network so that it would no longer accept the commands of any Raker crew member—especially her. Now not even the door would open.

  He turned toward her. "I'll have somebody bring you something to eat. What do you want?"

  "I'm not hungry."

  Roarke hesitated, then shrugged. "Suit yourself." With that, he strode to the door and out into the corridor.

  Watching the door slide closed behind him, Elise fought a wave of depression she didn't even try to understand. She'd gotten what she'd wanted; he'd left her without another mind-bending dose of his sensual attention.

  It didn't matter anyway.

  Fighting the mood, she stood up went to one of the closets set into the wall. Digging through it, Elise finally found what she was looking for: a.thick white robe. She slid her arms into it, wincing a little at the soreness of her muscles, and tied the belt around her waist. Walking into the head, she paused, catching

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  sight of her mussed hair in the mirror, and picked up a brush. Mechanically, Elise began to stroke it through the blonde tangle until she'd tamed it smooth.

  God, she was depressed. If this was the price of fantastic sex, next time she'd pass.

  And she looked like hell. Her lips were swollen, and there was something dazed about her eyes.

  Forget it. She had work to do. Turning, Elise walked through the head doorway into the office that lay beyond it.

  Dominating the room was her horseshoe-shaped private control center, with its inset vid screens and instrument panels. She sat down in the thickly padded cream chair and placed her palm on the ident plate. "Captain Elise Morrell. Access."

  "Capta
in Morrell: access denied under the authority of Captain Michael Roarke," the computer told her.

  Elise leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "Override code Ragnarok."

  There was a brief pause as the virus she'd installed months ago swept through the operating system.

  "Access accepted."

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  Chapter Four

  With a flare of satisfaction, Elise watched Henry Voroninn's beefy glum face appear on her vid screen. His eyes widened. "Captain! How did you..."

  "A little computer magic, Henry," she told him. In fact, it had taken her an hour of delicate, nerve-racking work to contact him without setting off the safeguards Roarke's computer experts had planted in the Raker's network. Elise grinned impishly. "I didn't get this job by nepotism alone, no matter what Price says."

  The big man frowned in puzzlement. "I thought they'd disabled all our security systems."

  She nodded. "Except for the virus I planted."

  "Roarke turned his back on you that long?"

  "Actually, I wrote it several months ago. It seemed a logical precaution to take, with the liberator breathing down our collective necks."

  "Hhhmp." He looked more grumpy than pleased. "Wish you'd said something about this earlier. I've been pulling my nonexistent hair out trying to come up with an escape plan."

  "Sorry, Henry." Elise shrugged. "I just wasn't certain it would work. For one thing, I had to find an opportunity to launch it, which was far from a sure thing. And once I did, the chances were good that Roarke's counter-virus systems would defeat it. We got lucky." She grimaced as she stretched, absently trying to pull the kinks out of her spine. "God knows it's about time."

  "But can they detect our communications? If Roarke catches you at this..."

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  At the thought of her captor's reaction, Elise felt a chill skate along the nape of her neck. Faking confidence, she smiled comfortingly at her second in command. "Don't worry about it. I designed this program to allow me to communicate with the crew without being detected. We should be safe. As long as neither of us patches into the bridge, anyway."

  ******************

  Roarke hunched in Elise's command chair, staring thoughtfully at the tips of his boots. Whether he liked it or not—and he didn't— he strongly suspected he was falling in love with Elise Morrell. Which presented him with a whole raft of problems, not the least of which was the lady herself, who was damned unlikely to indulge him. Then there was the problem of the Starforce High Command's reaction when he tried to keep her out of that prison camp.

  If he weren't so desperate, he'd be intimidated.

  Still, he'd never backed down from a fight in his life, and he certainly wasn't going to start now. It was just a matter of convincing Elise she wanted him as much as he wanted her, while simultaneously convincing the High Command they didn't want her. It was all as simple as getting sucked out an airlock.

  And probably about that pleasant.

  The bridge doors slid open to admit Yolanda Boniface, who paused to eye him on her way to her station. "How's the captive?"

  He snarled.

  She gave him a cheeky grin. "That's what I thought."

  Before he could manage a suitably annihilating reply, one of the vidcreens flashed to life, split down the middle as if for a bridge conference. Surprised, Roarke pivoted to stare at it, wondering why one of his crew would call in through the ship's intercom instead of using the radio implant.

  "Okay, Captain, so we can communicate, " Henry Voronnin said as his face appeared on the screen. "What do we do now?"

  Roarke jerked upright, knowing instantly that this conversation

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  wasn't supposed to be happening. And he certainly wasn't supposed to be hearing it.

  On the split screen beside Voronnin, Elise frowned. "That's a very good question."

  How did they do that?" Yolanda crossed quickly to the communications console.

  "Bypassed the computer safeguards, probably. Do they know we're monitoring?" Roarke demanded, coming out of his chair to stalk closer.

  Yolanda's narrow black brows drew down. "Doesn't look like it. We're patched in, but they're not picking us up."

  "Good," he said, then shushed her so he could listen to Elise's plotting.

  With a grin of pure homicidal cheer, Voronnin suggested, "Well, we could always release something lethal into the ventilation system."

  "Suicide's counterproductive, Henry."

  Her first officer gestured with a hand the size of a spacesuit gauntlet "Who said anything about suicide? All our people are in their quarters. If we confine the gas to operations areas and the bridge, |we won't put any of the crew in danger."

  Yolanda leaned close to Roarke and whispered, "You're growing, Boss."

  He stopped.

  "Henry, the boarding party's wearing armor, and they have communication implants," Elise pointed out patiently. "The gas might kiss a couple of them, but the rest would go to oxygen packs. And then we'd have a bunch of pissed-off troopers looking for revenge. I. for one, do not want to go up against armor bare handed."

  Roarke clenched his gauntleted fists. "Isn't that a damn shame?" He was growling again. He didn't much care.

  ******************

  Elise tapped a finger against her computer console, thinking furjously. "if only they didn't have those communication implants,

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  we might..." Something flickered in her consciousness, and she stilled, trying to bring it into focus.

  The plan materialized with all the speed and detail of something that had been brewing in her subconscious for hours. She snapped her fingers. "Communication implants. That's it! Henry, we can broadcast a sonic stun pulse right into their implants. Boom. They go down and out, and we've got an hour to retake the ship."

  He considered the idea, then shook his head slowly. "I don't think that would fly, Captain, not if they're taking standard precautions and scrambling their communications. The implant computers will reject any signal that isn't in the right code, which means nothing of ours would get through."

  "Henry, I'm telling you, this is the solution." Elise sat forward in her seat, unconsciously leaning toward him in her eagerness. "The Raker's computer could analyze a sample of their communications and decode it. It'll take time, but it's not as though either of us has a more pressing engagement."

  "That's the God's truth." Henry meditated a moment, "Could work."

  "Of course it'll work." She lofted a teasing eyebrow at him. "My plans always do."

  "Except when they don't," he said drily.

  Barely even registering the quip, Elise got down to business, her hands darting over her workstation console as she set up the program.

  Watching her on the screen, Henry commented, "If this does go, it'll be our turn to take hostages. The Liberator won't fire on us if we've got Roarke."

  "Mmmph."

  "Then, once we're away, we take the whole lot of 'em to Elba. Let Roarke try playing his clever little games with CSSIntel."

  "Elba?" Elise frowned uneasily, looking up at him.

  He shrugged. "It's the only POW installation in the sector. We have to take them there; it's standard procedure."

  "Right." She fidgeted, hating the idea. "Look, I don't know

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  how much time I've got before he comes back. I'd better get on it. Morrell out."

  ******************

  For a long moment Roarke sat paralyzed, unable to believe Elise would even consider handing him over to those bastards in CSSIntel. Not after he'd held her in his arms this morning, relishing the tender sensation of her sweet, warm body against his.

  Damn her.

  Turning on his heel, Roarke headed for the nearest hatch. Over his shoulder, he barked, "Yo, find that computer virus and kill it. And send somebody after that bastard Voronnin."

  Yolanda nodded and turne
d. From the corner of her eye, she spotted something white sitting beside the command station he'd left. “Hey, boss, you forgot your helmet......."

  But the hatch had already closed behind him.

  ******************

  Elise stared at the vidscreen as the Raker's computer worked to crack the boarding party's radio code, but she couldn't concentrate. She couldn't seem to shake the image of Roarke locked up in a prison camp.

  The last time they'd had him, CSSIntel had tortured him so badly he was still feeling the effects two years later. What would they do to him now, particularly considering he'd killed his original jailer to escape? Elise had an ugly feeling she already knew the answer to that one: they'd brutalize Roarke until he died, simply as an object lesson to the other prisoners. He wouldn't last a week, and his final hours would be unspeakable.

  She wasn't going to do it. No matter what it cost her, she wasn't going to let those bastards have him. Even if it gave Scordillis the excuse he was looking for to break her, she was going to turn the boarding party loose on the first Rebellion planet she could find.

  Elise scowled at the screen of her workstation as she considered the implications. It would mean the end of her career, the loss of her

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  ship, everything she'd worked for so long. And yet, letting CSSIntel have Roarke would do something much, much worse.

  That would strip away her soul.

  She straightened in a burst of self-awareness. It wasn't just the principle of the thing, though she wouldn't have sentenced a dog to that hellpit. No, it felt a lot more personal than that. As if Roarke had assumed an irrational importance to her, despite the fact that he was the enemy commander who'd tried to kill her yesterday—and who'd successfully seduced her last night.

  Because, neurocuffs notwithstanding, it had been more than a seduction. There'd been tenderness in the touch of his hands, his mouth, in the way he'd looked at her as he'd entered her body. And the next morning he'd held her like a lover. Elise could have withstood the rest of his arsenal: the wicked skill, the ridiculously arousing sexual threats, even the intelligence, the sense of humor, the lupine good looks, that strong, amazing body. She could have withstood it all, except for the possibility that he actually cared about her, that he saw her as something more than a target in battle and in bed.