For a moment his body relaxed. He digested what she just told him, his gaze not faltering although his grip slackened. She didn’t miss the opportunity.
Bucking, she kicked him hard in the leg with the back of her boot. There would only be a second to react. Trent Dar adjusted his grip on her, but she had enough time to turn around, striking out with her fist, aiming for his face.
Fire burned in those black eyes, the only indication she would get that kicking him had affected him. He grabbed her fist before she could hit him and flung her across the room. She hit the wall hard, the breath flying out of her lungs from the impact. All she could do was turn before once again he’d pinned her, this time with his body pressing against hers with her back up against the wall.
“So you like it rough, do you?” he hissed, his tone so dangerous her heart missed a beat.
She forgot to breathe, the thought hitting her at that moment that being alone with this Gren might be more dangerous and life-threatening than being stuck in a room full of Bortan. Slowly she exhaled, but her heart raced so hard that she sucked in another breath.
“Whatever it takes,” she told him, knowing she would risk more if she showed signs of defeat, than if she stood up to him.
One of his legs pressed between hers, rubbing against the heat that already burned between her legs. He reached for one of her wrists, and then the other, and then pinned her hands against the wall on either side of her head. Leaning into her, his face inches above hers, his body pressed hard against hers. His cock had hardened into a rod of steel, grinding into her hipbone.
Dawn couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Trent Dar was more dangerous as a man than any weapon he might harbor.
“I’m not sure you could handle what it might take.”
“And I doubt you would dare to try,” she taunted him. There wasn’t anything else she could do with his body holding her prisoner against the wall.
Not to mention the fire he’d ignited inside her. It was probably a damned good thing he’d immobilized her. The urge to lean into him, taste him, devour that carnal power that radiated from him, consumed her.
“Don’t ever doubt me,” he said and leaned his head down, sucking in her lower lip before he kissed her.
A gasp escaped her, everything about her softening for the briefest of moments when he tasted her. She wasn’t full-blooded Gren. Her urge to submit, to give him her body, made his cock throb with a fierceness no other woman had brought forth in him.
Yet she wasn’t exactly submitting. Her hands relaxed against his, her wrists sliding down slightly under his grasp. When she opened her mouth, her tongue meeting his, he realized the submissive side of her had disappeared. She did her best to lean into him, pressing her breasts against his chest, making him ache to rip her clothes from her body, explore what treasures she had.
With a small cry she turned her head from him, panting while her chest heaved up and down, her firm breasts smashed against him. He ached to run his hands down her arms, cup those breasts, knead them and feel their fullness.
“Submission is wrong,” she breathed.
He watched her, his intake of breath almost as sharp as hers. Ghosts surfaced, her private demons warring within her while emotion swirled in her beautiful gray eyes.
Dawn turned on him, pushing hard. He took a step backward, which surprised her. She ignored the wave of disappointment that he didn’t demand more of her.
“Entering a building without consent in order to spy is also wrong,” he told her, his voice deepening when he added, “and a crime.”
“Which is why I wouldn’t have sent anyone else to do it,” she answered honestly.
Her breathing had slowed although the slow rise and fall of her breasts still proved a distraction. Her black outfit hugged every curve, displaying her sensuality. But there was still plenty left to the imagination, and that distracted him.
Focusing on her willfulness, on the stubborn tilt of her head, on the passionate glow in her gray eyes, didn’t help him keep his mind where it should be. This woman had committed a crime and confessed to it. What he should do right now was press charges against her and be done with her.
“And why did you need to know what Command Center had planned?” he asked instead, knowing the only reason she would have eavesdropped on the meeting would be to gather that information.
The sudden beeping of his computer on his desk grabbed his attention. Reaching for Dawn, taking her arm, he pulled her around his desk and plopped her in the one chair his office housed. Trapping her with his body, he turned the screen so he could accept the transmission coming in. For something to be arriving this late in the evening, he doubted the message carried good news.
The Greneen symbol, an image of his home world with the black background, appeared on his screen. Dawn Corl leaned forward, attempting to look around him to see what it said.
“You know this is confidential,” he said, turning the screen away from her.
“So was the Poltar Leap,” she reminded him, showing her lack of remorse at breaking the law.
He ran his fingers over the flat keyboard, accepting the transmission and quickly changing it to print instead of audio. The message appeared in white letters in front of him.
“What is this?” he said out loud, although speaking to himself.
“What is it?” Dawn stood, again trying to see around him.
Tar-Kah, the elite investigative branch of Gren had sent the message. A warning had just been sent to them that the known fugitive, a Poltarian who had Greneen in her, had just stolen Bortan computer software. The Bortan officials demanded the return of their goods, the programs being housed in small chips. Failure to return the chips would result in the Bortan authorizing a full-scale search. The fugitive was believed to last be seen on Molten.
Another message followed, this one a personal message from the Tar-Kah asking Trent Dar to put his best men on this assignment and find the woman as quickly and quietly as possible. An image of Dawn Corl appeared on the screen in front of him.
Trent glanced at it briefly and then turned to stare into those soft gray eyes, full of questions. The message referred to her as Poltarian, which explained the gray eyes, yet she carried the house of Corl in her name, and looked very Greneen to him. The words of the merchant, who’d searched for her earlier, came to mind. Dawn Corl had a hell of a lot of explaining to do.
Chapter Four
“What is it?” Dawn asked again, sudden trepidation washing through her.
Trent Dar’s expression had hardened. Whatever his screen had shown him didn’t appeal to him at all. Instead of showing her he shut the system down, collapsing the screen and then moving around the desk.
“Let’s go,” he said, offering no explanation.
She followed him. Like there were any other options. What could she do? Refuse to leave with him and stay in his office? Getting out of Command Center sounded damned good to her. She’d spent enough time incognito in this place earlier today, tapping into their computers while posing as a low-ranking Greneen. It wasn’t the first time she’d donned a uniform that would never be hers, and managed her way around the Greneen military.
Trent led the way into the hall, glancing quickly to ensure no one was around. For whatever reason, he wanted to hear her story before he blindly turned her over to the officials. Already he had enough on her to lock her up. But he told himself that it had nothing to do with her alluring manner, the softness of her mouth, the way she’d kissed him. Curiosity bested him, and he knew his instincts seldom let him down. A large part of this story was a mystery. And he would be damned if he would turn this woman over to the Bortan before knowing exactly what was going on.
Their shoes clicked against the hard tiled floor, offering the only noise to break the silence that otherwise loomed around them. Something in the Gren had changed, an urgency now surrounding him where before he had seemed relaxed and confident. Dawn felt the odd sensation of walking alongside her comma
nding officer, having just received new orders that were of extreme importance. The only problem was that she didn’t have a clue what they were.
This time when they reached the branching of the hallway, he paused. She almost questioned him, wanting to know more about the transmission he’d received, sensing a pending doom surround her and wanting to believe she was safe by his side.
Trent held up his hand, silencing her when she would have spoken. The smallest of gestures, yet surrounded by an authority she found herself not questioning. She had no reason to trust him. She reminded herself of that simple fact. All she had wanted from him was an assured disposal of the Bortan chips. That was it. Beyond that she had no use for him. She repeated that like a mantra while standing silently next to him, listening to the faint noises in the quiet building.
Without warning, Trent turned around, placing his hand on her arm, and escorting her back the way they’d come. She glanced at him when he slipped a comm out of his shirt pocket and wrapped it around his ear, adjusting the mouthpiece.
“Creen,” he said quietly into his comm. “Go to the back side of Command Center. I’ll explain later. Meet me there now.”
He hurried his step, moving her alongside him fast enough that even with her long legs, she worked to match his pace. They reached an unmarked exit and Trent ran his hand over the panel, unlocking the door without alerting the alarm.
Stepping outside, the glow from the large planet looming over them in the sky, offering the only light, long shadows offered an eerie sensation. Dawn almost jumped when a glider came around the corner, slowing to a stop when it neared them.
A young Greneen, his black eyes large in the dark as he appraised her, lifted the dome of his glider, glancing from her to his superior officer.
“Take her to my place. Don’t speak to anyone, not even her. Then leave and forget you saw her.” Trent Dar spoke with such authority it didn’t surprise Dawn when the young soldier nodded solemnly, scooting forward to allow her space behind him on the glider.
“Your place?” she asked, questioning him.
“You won’t make it five minutes anywhere else on this manmade rock.” His words were harsh, leaving no room for argument.
And argue was exactly what she wanted to do. No one told her what to do. She hadn’t made it as far as she had trusting that many people. Life had taught her that the only person she could trust was herself.
Trent Dar turned, not expecting his command to be questioned, and disappeared back inside the building, the door shutting silently behind him. Left alone at the mercy of this young Greneen, she had no carrier, no way of escaping on her own. Maybe Trent Dar owed her just a bit of sanctuary, if that indeed was what he was offering. Silently she boarded the glider, holding on to the seat behind her as the dome lowered over the two of them, and the soldier, Creen, accelerated until the glider left the ground, following instructions and not saying a word to her.
Minutes later, Trent Dar moved with his usual calm manner through the building, leaving it like he would any other night. Except he’d already left the place once already that evening. No one questioned him, the guards on duty barely glancing his way when he made sure he walked where they would see him.
His thoughts were grossly distracted by Dawn Corl. Who was she? What was in the stuffed bag of computer chips that he still carried on him? Realizing harboring them made him an accomplice to her crime, and realizing further that she had intended to lure him into her sordid plot when dropping them at his table earlier, he was intent on learning more about her.
But that couldn’t be done at Command Center. He needed a computer that wasn’t monitored. It would take time to research this puzzle, and he didn’t want to worry about explaining his actions. And during the time it took to ensure he had all the answers he needed to satisfy him, Dawn Corl would stay put, waiting for him to determine what he would do with her.
Unfortunately, right now, what distracted him more than learning her plot, was learning her body. Kissing her had stirred something in him that had long been asleep. Mission after mission had kept his mind off women, had kept him sane. Until now. Now not knowing more about Dawn Corl would make him insane. She would explain herself to his satisfaction. There would be no question on that matter.
He wasn’t surprised to see there were no lights on when he pulled up in front of his assigned quarters. Rows of Gren housing, compliments of Command Center, lined the narrow street on the far side of the moon. This was a smaller dome than the other artificial domes on the manmade surface. Dim light and a thinner atmosphere made the area appear like their home planet. Ever since Greneen military moved in to keep the Bortan from taking over Poltar, this small, domed area had been deemed Gren Town. The place looked nothing like home.
Parking his glider, he eased off and sauntered toward his home. Dawn Corl was nowhere in sight. And at this hour, no one else appeared to be on the quiet street. Gren retired early, a people accustomed to keeping to themselves.
He placed his hand on the panel next to his door, allowing the scanner to acknowledge his DNA, and then stared into the darkness of his home after the door slid open. She shouldn’t have been able to get in without him. Something told him he shouldn’t underestimate her, though.
Tingles raced down his spine, his senses moving into high gear when he walked into his quiet home. Nothing was out of place. But she was in here. He didn’t see her—saw no sign of her—but something told him she hadn’t waited outside for him. And he gave her enough credit to not run off once dropped off at his house.
The slightest movement of shadows grabbed his attention, and he turned, pulling his laser at the same time. He stared into the soft gray eyes of Dawn Corl.
“Would you kill a Gren in cold blood?” she asked, her voice a sultry whisper.
“Some would say you are Poltarian,” he responded, lowering his small handheld weapon so that he focused on her neck instead of between her eyes.
“Some would,” she shrugged, not denying or confirming a thing.
“Yet you call yourself Gren.” If she used the Corl name without cause, he could arrest her for forgery alone. Gren law was clear.
“I am Dawn Corl. That isn’t a lie.” She met his gaze, those pools of gray not wavering. She either spoke the truth, or was a damned good liar.
He had the inclination to believe her, but didn’t doubt her ability to lie.
“I assume you have repaired any damage you did to my home in order to get in here.” Asking how she got into his home would have done no good. He doubted she would have told him.
The corner of her mouth lifted in a half smile at his comment. She turned away from his weapon, ignoring it, and walked into the darkness. He followed her, sheathing his laser in the small leather clasp that hooked to his belt. Her boots tapped on the tile in his kitchen when she walked through it.
“I was almost done,” she said, her back still to him, as she picked up the cover to the panel housed in the wall next to his back door.
He walked up behind her, looking over her shoulder, impressed more than angry that she had dismantled the security system to his house, let herself in, and almost had it put back together in such a short time.
“You have the skills of a criminal,” he whispered, fighting the urge to run his hands over her shoulders.
She turned on him, the flash of anger in her eyes noticeable even in the dark.
“I have the skills of a survivor,” she hissed. “I am no criminal.”
She turned back around just as quickly, her long black hair fanning down her back. He took a step back, more to admire the view of her backside, than to allow her room to finish. So tall and muscular, not overly done, shapely, a perfect woman. The way her black leather pants hugged her ass, accentuating her firm curves made his cock dance to life.
He growled in spite of himself, not feeling too comfortable with the thought that she could make him prance to life and he seemed unable to control it. Reaching to turn on the light, he n
oticed then the black bag laid open on his counter. A variety of tools, all Gren, lay spread out. Dawn finished her task and placed the tool in her hand with the others.
“It will work as it did before now,” she said, not looking up, but carefully wrapping the tools back up in the black bag then sliding them into her knapsack.
There was no reason to make issue of the quality of the military security system. Too many other things demanded immediate attention—and clarification.
“Come with me,” he instructed, leaving the kitchen where he spent such little time anyway.
If it bothered her that he led her to his bedroom, she gave no indication. He tapped the small lamp that offered the only light in the room, and entered as shadows cast across the walls.
Dawn entered behind him, taking in the simple yet elegant living quarters where the first commander slept at night. Glancing at his bed, she wondered how many women he’d fucked in it. Trent Dar didn’t look like the kind of man who would bring home any of the women she’d seen earlier in The Whisky Club. The bed was large, a dark mahogany bedspread stretched taut over it. The rest of the room was just as neat and orderly. On second glance, she wondered how much time he spent in the room. Everything was in such perfect order.
He moved around a solid wood desk. She ran her fingers over it, recognizing the military-issue furniture. The simple dresser, the bed frame—all of it Gren and functional. This desk, however, was more elegant, solid wood she guessed had been imported from Benox judging by its slightly darker texture than the rest of the furniture.
Trent tapped a button panel and a keyboard slid out from under a hidden panel while a monitor rose in front of them. He removed a small disk from his coat pocket and inserted it in the computer. In the next instant she stared at a picture of herself with a top priority message from Greneen. He had been ordered to search her out. The Bortan were searching for her and wanted her turned over immediately for theft of their computer chips.
Sex Slaves 03 Waiting for Dawn Page 3