by Cathryn Cade
***
When Riley linked Joran, he was in the middle of going over the plan one more time with Qala and Haro. He looked up impatiently, but as Riley explained his concern, Joran shot out of his chair, fury burning so hot he was vaguely surprised he couldn’t see smoke.
He stalked through the camp, slammed into his tont, and confronted the woman who lay on his bed, pale and exhausted. Ringi and Dano stepped back, both looking guilty.
“You, out,” he said to them. “I’ll talk to you later.”
They hurried away.
“What the hells?” he demanded, stalking to Zaë’s side. “I leave you, and you go straight back to this shit? Does nothing I say penetrate? You could injure yourself, permanently.”
“I’m fine,” she said, reaching for him. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
That was insulting. “I’m not scared, I’m quarking pissed off,” he clarified, leaning over her with his hands braced on either side. “You don’t start listening to me, I’m gonna drug you myself.”
She smiled up at him, or tried to. “I...I know who I am.”
Fuck. She’d gotten through the veil, or paralysis, or whatever was affecting her brain. He closed his eyes, and opened them again.
“Lady Elliane Braveling,” he said, his deep voice merging with hers.
They stared at each other.
“How did you know that?” she asked.
“Logan’s people found you in the galactic database,” he told her. “But, you remembered that much?”
He sat down next to her, and took her hands. They were small and chilled in his. He rubbed her fingers to warm them.
“I made myself remember, a little at least,” she said. “But there’s not much—and it’s so patchy. I’m not even sure...”
He reached to touch the side of her face, and slide his hand underneath the silk of her hair to cup the back of her neck. “It’s you, all right. But don’t worry about that now. I have you, and you’re safe. So no more forcing it, please? You look like hells—all pale and tired. You didn’t look like this when I left you.”
They shared a look, remembering how he’d left her earlier. Her cheeks flushed again, and he grinned. There, now she looked better. Maybe he should warm her up all over. No penetration, she was probably sore, but nothing said he couldn’t make her feel nice.
Joran leaned down to kiss her soft lips, ignoring the ping of the surveillance holovid. An incoming craft, so what? He had people all over outside, on patrol and on watch. They were armed, they’d handle it. They’d call him if needed. He leaned down to kiss her.
Then she looked over his shoulder and gave a strangled gasp against his mouth, her hands clenching on his shoulders, nails biting through his shirt. He lifted his head.
“What is it?”
She wrinkled her nose at the holovid hovering under the ceiling. “That man...I know him.”
Joran drove his forehead into the pillow beside her head. “Fuck me.” Her life was back, with a vengeance it seemed.
Would it have been too much to ask for another half an hour?
Reluctantly, he pushed himself up, and pulled her after him, turning her toward the lav.
“All right. You go comb your hair, or whatever. We’ll go out, we’ll see what’s what. But later,” he said in her ear, his hand sliding down to cup her belly and press her bottom back against his groin, “we’re finishing this. And then you’re resting.”
She trembled in his grasp, her hands reaching to cover his and hold on. “Yes.”
***
Outside, a strange cruiser had landed on the plain just outside camp. Escorted by Ryder and Draz, both with weapons at the ready and unfriendly scowls on their faces, a slim man in a business suit and broad brimmed hat walked to the center of camp. He pushed up his sungoggles and squinted at Joran, then at Zaë.
A smile broke over his boyish face. “Elle,” he called. “I’ve found you.”
Joran’s hands twitched to grab the skinny academician’s neck and squeeze.
“David Woodby, I presume?” Would-be was right—he had a boyish, unformed look, like a kid playing dressup.
Woodby looked to him, his smile disappearing. “And you are ‘The Storm’?” His tone was just this side of a sneer.
Zaë moved restively, and Joran soothed her with a hand on the small of her back. “Call me Stark.”
“David?” Zaë said uncertainly.
Woodby’s gaze flew back to hers and he stepped forward. “Elle, darling. I’ve been searching for you for weeks. I’m so glad I’ve found you. Now I can bring you home.”
At this, she jerked back against Joran.
“Step back,” Joran warned.
Woodby froze, his eyes widening on Joran’s face. “But I—”
“Step. Back. She doesn’t want you this close; I don’t want you this close. If my men have to restrain you, you won’t like it.”
The man glanced at Ryder and Draz, both with a hand on their holstered weapons, at the crowd of interested onlookers gathering behind them, and stepped back, his face flushing.
“Elle,” he tried again. “I’ve come for you. Rented a cruiser and a pilot, all to find you. You’re safe now. You can come home with me.”
When she leaned back, Joran took her weight, his hand sliding around her waist to hold her. He gave her a little squeeze.
“I remember you, David,” she said. “And—and of course I have to go home, but...I’ll find my own way there, thank you.”
Oh, no she sure as hells would not. When the time came, Joran would take her in the Hawk, delivering her to her parents himself, thus making sure she was safe and had decent surveillance and maybe an armed guard before he left her there.
But there was no way under the sun and stars he was sending her off with this kid.
“Look around you, boy,” Joran said. “You think she’s safer with you than here, think again. You’re not taking her anywhere.”
Woodby’s mouth set mulishly. “Elle,” he went on, ignoring Joran. “I remember this man. He bought you at that auction, like a—a common prostitute. He has no right to so much as touch you, much less hold you here.” He held out one slender, uncalloused hand. “Come with me, Elle. Come home.”
“Whoa,” Joran called. “The auction? Why, Dr Woodby, whatever were you doing in an illegal flesh-peddling pit?”
Ryder snickered at this and a few of the other men grinned. Woodby’s face turned a deeper red.
Zaë tilted her head. “Why were you there, David? Why didn’t you come and find me?”
“I was there to save you. I received a tip, from an anonymous source and—and I went at once. To, er, purchase you. But he outbid me.”
“Yeah, and we’re all damn lucky I did, since the other bidder was a Serpentian brothel master,” Joran snarled. And there was something off about the man’s story. Anonymous tip? What were the odds of that? But he’d get into that later.
He bent his head to Zaë. “You wanna talk to him now, or you wanna save it?” he asked quietly.
“I’d better do so now,” she said. “There’s so much I don’t understand.”
She frowned up at him. “Such as, how you knew who David was. You did know, didn’t you?” Her eyes widened, and he realized his expression had given him away.
She stepped away from him, and this time he let her. “Joran?”
“Then he also knew that I am your fiancé,” Woodby burst out. “And that you belong with me.”
Zaë flinched, but continued to gaze at Joran.
Fuck, she looked sick and hopeful at the same time, like she was waiting for him to tell her it was all a mistake, that he was some kind of hero, ready to take up the shield hanging in his tont and charge to his death for her. Well, he wasn’t that man, and he never would be. Her pleading look chafed him like a too tight jacket.
“Yeah, I knew,” he drawled. “Don’t forget who I am, baby—a pirate. That’s what I do, take what I want. All that glitters.” He let his gaze sl
ide down over her.
Her cheeks blazed with color. “You mean you steal what you want,” she shot back, her voice shaking. “Well, you can hide behind your pirate façade all you want with others, Il Zhazid, but remember one thing—you can’t steal anything that is freely given. And something that’s given can be taken back.”
He took that hit, put it aside to mull over later. “Can’t take back what you gave me, baby,” he pointed out, with a smirk.
She gasped, and then gave him that laser-hot glare. It was a relief—he’d rather have her pissed off than pleading, any day. She looked good with fire in her eyes.
“I can’t believe you said that here,” she whispered. “In front of everyone. Maybe you’d like to show them the holovid, so you can beat your chest and brag some more.”
His cheeks burned. Fuck, he deserved that. “No. Bunny, I—“
The surveillance system pinged, and Ilya spoke in Joran’s ear. “Incoming ships, five of them. Unmarked—except for our spybots, that is. Recognize some of them from the auction. ”
“How far out?” Joran demanded. He was already raising a hand to catch his crew’s attention—which God knew he had, thanks to the stupid scene he’d just staged.
“Eh, give or take forty minutes at present speed. They’ll have to slow to land...if they’re gonna land.”
Unless they were just planning on attacking the camp.
“All right,” Joran called. “We have incoming ships. Everyone, break camp and board the ships—now!”
The crowd broke instantly, everyone running to do what they needed. Mothers grabbed their children, his warriors headed for their weapons and crafts.
Draz grabbed Woodby by one arm and waggled his grizzled brows at Joran. “Where you want him?”
Joran didn’t waste another glance at Woodby. If it were up to him, he’d leave him here, but the man had a vested interest in keeping Zaë safe, so he could come along, watch out for her while Joran was busy.
“Escort him onto the Hawk.” Joran headed off, pulling Zaë with him.
“What’s happening? Where are we going?” she demanded as she trotted alongside him toward the Hawk, now moored just behind his tont.
“Safer on the cruisers. I’ll explain once we’re on board.” He signaled the Hawk, and the hatch rose to welcome them.
“We’re leaving? But what about the tonts?” Zaë pulled against his grasp. “I need my things. And we need food—you haven’t had your supper.”
His supper. He grinned wryly and gave her a pat on her sweet ass. “All right, baby. You have ten minutes. Then we’re folding up tonts, with or without your gear.”
“Don’t call me baby,” she retorted, and hurried into his tont.
He stopped outside the tont. Qala was right behind him.
“This is it,” he said. The slavers were coming to take the bait, and he’d have to play his part. They all would.
She nodded. “You sure about this? We mess up, we’ll bring down all the IGSF and the good citizenry of Frontiera around our ears. They’ll throw us on Deep Six and sell holovids of the feed as we freeze and die.”
Joran grinned at her. “Fuck yeah. Love a good fight with terrible odds.”
She rolled her eyes at him and then laughed. “Me too. Let’s do this.”
“Just remember, this isn’t us against the IGSF and the citizens. It’s us against the slavers. And Cerul. That’s the way we planned it and the way it’s gonna go down.”
She nodded. As she walked away, Haro jogged to meet her. Joran watched with shock and then pleasure as the man caught Qala in his arms and laid a long, deep kiss on her, which she returned.
“You be careful,” Haro said to her, his expression fierce. “You get me? I’m not losin’ you now. Got a lot of time to make up for.”
She lifted a hand to Haro’s face. “You too. You’re annoying, but you’ve grown on me. Like a fungus, I guess.”
Joran turned away, leaving the pair to their weird but amusing version of love talk.
Now, in between battling slavers, Cerul and anyone else who got in his way, he just had to find time to make things right with Zaë. Because he wasn’t losing her either. Not now, not for a long time to come.
Chapter 26
Zaë liked the Hawk. Joran’s craft was beautiful, and surprisingly comfortable for the small space inside. The interior was all in shades of gray and silver, rather like his eyes. She liked the comfortable leather seats, the way the portholes in the main cabin, although small on the inside, gave a fish eye view of what lay outside, and the way every centimeter of space was used, for storage or communication.
She also—reluctantly—admired the way Joran strode on board, swept her with a look to see that she was strapped in and safe, before moving ahead through the narrow galley to the front cabin where she could, from her seat, glimpse consoles alight with gleaming colors and shapes, all mysterious, all state of the art.
She especially liked that this time, she was not aboard as a terrified, shattered woman, but one who had been invited—okay, ordered, but in the Storm’s limited alpha male vocabulary he probably considered that the same—and she was here because he wanted her safe.
She had a change of clothing, she had an insulated carrier with some supper, and she had the mawwr, quietly deposited in the sleeping cabin, where she hoped it wouldn’t make a mess. Ringi had informed her the mawwrs traveled on the transport with the catas, but Zaë was afraid if she left hers now, she might never see it again.
She was secretly very excited to be going along on an adventure with the Storm and his crew. Not that she was going to let him know that, because she was very angry with him. No, she was furious.
And soon she was going to make sure she had time to give him a piece of her mind. Having sex with him might be planet-quaking and orgasmic, but that didn’t mean it made her lose her intelligence. He had lied to her, or at least withheld information. He’d believed her to be engaged, and he’d still had sex with her? That was indeed the act of a pirate.
And then he’d given her that look in front of everyone, and spoken to her as if what they’d shared hadn’t meant much at all. She didn’t care if he was a pirate, he didn’t get to behave that way. And so she would tell him, over and over if necessary until it sunk into his hard head. Because she was not giving up on him.
On this thought, her gaze cut to the man sitting near her. David Woodby. A face from her past for whom she was rapidly recalling, she had never felt more than casual friendship, ruined by increasing irritation as he pressed his attentions on her. He may have believed they were engaged, or about to become so, but she would never have agreed to marry this man.
“Elle,” Woodby said, leaning over from his own seat, his gaze darting from her to the back of Joran’s head in the pilot’s seat. “I don’t understand why we’re aboard this craft, and not back on my rented one, headed for F City? This is—”
“David.” She held up her hand for silence. “This is my business, not yours. You are only here because you know me, and thus the Storm is willing to protect you.”
He looked at her with distaste. “You interrupted me. As I was saying, we should be on our way back to F City. Your parents are frantic, as I’m sure you can imagine. And here you are, flitting about with these—these pirates.”
She’d never liked him at all, Zaë realized with a shock. What a coward she’d been to let him bully her into even considering marriage. She’d be polite now as possible, but she was not going to listen to him denigrate Joran or his people.
“David, I will be on my way back to F City when I’m ready. Right now, we’re on an important mission. If you don’t like that...” she shrugged. “I’m sorry, but your opinion of our activities doesn’t really matter.
His face reddened, and his eyes narrowed. “I’ve spent a great deal of my credit chasing after you, miss, so I don’t appreciate your ingratitude. And I have your parents’ approval, so you’d best behave with a bit more decorum. Then perhaps I�
�ll forgive you.”
She gaped at him. “You’ll forgive me?” she repeated.
He nodded stiffly.
“You’ll forgive me?” she repeated, her blood beginning to boil. He was the second male to speak to her today as if she was a fool, and she had had it up to there!
“David, in the past month, I have been kidnapped, drugged out of my mind, starved, left to suffer extreme cold and heat, been beaten and threatened with rape and worse, and then sold like an animal. The only reason I am still alive and whole is because of the man who owns this cruiser. You had nothing to do with any of that.”
At this, his gaze flickered, but she was too upset to care.
“So please explain,” she went on. What I have done to beg your pardon for?”
He snorted. “You’ve clearly fallen into that pirate’s arms and his bed. You just said ‘our activities’ as if you are one of these people. How do you think that makes me feel, when I waited and worried alongside your parents, not knowing if you were dead or alive?”
The mention of her parents hurt. Because she did care what they thought of her. What if they were dismayed that she’d been with Joran Stark?
“Oh, you’re not going to listen to me,” she realized. Unable to bear looking at his smug face any longer, Zaë turned away from him to gaze out the porthole.
She blinked, and looked with astonishment at the place where the camp had been. It was gone. In the place of the tonts were strange oblong crates on the flattened grass, and even now they were being hoisted into an open transport. The catas were gone, and so were all the various vehicles that had been moored around the perimeter.
The air over the camp was full of activity, with armed fighters hovering over the transport, and cruisers sailing off into the distance, surrounded by a phalanx of smaller craft.
Her heart leapt. The Khadim were on the move, and she was going with them.
She unbuckled her belt and keyed her comlink. “Joran, may I please sit up front with you?”