Solar Heat

by Susan Kearney

  Within moments he’d settled his hips between her legs and was about to plunge into her heat. Suddenly she rolled, taking him with her. He ended up on his back with her on top. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and straddled him. Her grin healed another bit of his aching heart.

  Heat encased him. Her heat. So hot, so warm. She was riding him, pumping. “Slow down, sugar. Or, I’ll . . . be done before we . . .”

  She gyrated faster, grinding into him, paying no attention to his words.

  “Come on, babe. Easy now.” He reached for her hips to slow her rhythm. But his arms didn’t obey his mind. He couldn’t move them from his sides.

  Sweet Vigo. What the frip?

  He was immobilized.

  Paralyzed.

  Helpless.

  And she was lifting up and down, pounding, the pressure, taking, giving, until his thoughts spun wildly. She was riding him, totally in control.

  And he couldn’t move. Couldn’t caress her. Couldn’t pump his hips and meet her rhythm.

  His blood roared. He was on the verge of explosion, waiting for her to ride him harder, longer.

  He craved to buck his hips, to touch her breasts. But his mind no longer managed his body.

  Damn it to Raman hell. She was dominating him.

  Usurping his will.

  On Rama he’d spent years submitting to Firsts. He understood exactly what was happening to him, recognized the loss of muscle control, the helplessness. But how could this be happening on Zor? With Azsla?

  Holy hell. If his mind wasn’t spinning. If his body wasn’t hot, hard and heavy with need, he would have realized sooner that no one could do what she did—except a First.

  Reaching down, she cupped his balls, massaged, tugged, teased, the sensations exquisite. So his mind might be shriveling in horror, but his body was pumping to go. And he fired into her. Exploded in a tremendous wave of physical pleasure.

  Even as he orgasmed, his mind screamed. Why had she lied to him? She was a First. The enemy.

  And Vigo help him, he’d believed he’d loved her.

  DERREK’S LAST SPASM had taken Azsla over the edge once more, and as the lingering pleasure ebbed and she could once again think, she realized how stupid she’d been. When Derrek had asked her why she was resisting, she hadn’t had an answer that wouldn’t blow her cover. And because she did like him, she had sent out signals she was interested. So she hadn’t had one good reason to refuse.

  Talk about mistakes. She’d just made the biggest one of her life. In the scheme of things, if her mistake had been classified as a tidal wave, it would have flooded a continent. If it had been a volcanic explosion, the eruption would have shot ash halfway around the planet. And if it had been a Zoran quake, it would have ripped the planet in two.

  She’d been an idiot. No smarter than a slave after a mind wipe. And the damage couldn’t be undone.

  She’d let him seduce her, arrogantly believing she could control her Quait. And when she’d felt the beast slipping free of the chains, she’d stupidly hurried him instead of stopping him.

  But by then it had been too late. The multiple orgasms he’d given her hadn’t allowed her to maintain control of her abilities, and she’d lost it. Usurped his will.

  She had to be the biggest ignoramus of all time. He’d been so giving it had made her heart shatter. And in return she’d dominated him.

  As she drew huge gasps into her lungs, she didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to face the disgust she knew would be on his face.

  He shook her off him, like a dog shedding water, with no care or caution. She rolled across the bed, feeling fury radiating off his flesh, burning her like a thousand red-hot knife blades. And she deserved every bit of his wrath.

  She risked a look, then wished she hadn’t. Muscles bunched, eyes narrowed, lips stern, he yanked on his pants, folded his arms across his chest. And said nothing.

  His accusing stare said it all.

  Although his look flayed her, she raised her chin. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry you lied to me or sorry I found out?” He kept his tone low and soft, reminding her of an angry jibiqe before it bit the head off its prey.

  “Both.” She was shaking inside, sick about hurting him, furious over her stupidity, her stomach feeling as if she’d swallowed broken glass. Knowing she should try to explain, she sat up, looked into his bleak eyes, and wrapped a sheet around her. “I didn’t mean to . . . lose control.”

  “You’re a Raman spy, aren’t you?”

  “Was a spy.”

  “Really?” He glared at her as if he’d stepped in slug slime and now had to scrape the offal from his boots.

  “I committed treason when I saved my crew and warned you about the tranqed Firsts.”

  “More likely it was your way to gain our trust.”

  “It was both,” she admitted, done with the lies but sick at what she’d messed up . . . a new start, with a man she thought she could love. How had she been so delusional to think that she could control herself during the most intimate of pleasures?

  If only she hadn’t found him appealing, charming, and attractive. If only it hadn’t been so long since she’d mated. “But I chose to stay with you . . . instead of going back home.”

  “No doubt your superiors wanted to know what we were up to.”

  “They did.” He had that part right. “But I never reported my findings.”

  “At the Space Ministry?”

  “Yes. I was trained, among other things, as a weapons specialist. I was sent to see if Zor had the ability to retaliate after a Raman attack. At the time, I didn’t know Rama planned to wipe out the entire planet by lobbing an asteroid at it.”

  “The Ramans changed that asteroid’s orbit?”

  “I think so.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because I’m telling the truth.” She ignored his sarcastic glare, the dark brooding scowl, the intimidating set of his shoulders. A cold chunk of ice lodged in her gut, and fear shivered down her spine. For the moment, she managed to ignore the tears that ached for release, her pounding head and her stomach that felt as if she’d taken a sucker punch. She would not break down . . . at least not in front of him. “I might be able to help you stop that asteroid.”

  “How?” He spat the word like a bullet, as if he hoped to shoot her dead.

  “You haven’t been listening. I’m a weapons specialist. That means if you intend to blow it up, I might be able to rig a tactonic bomb if you can find me some tactonic material. Since no slaves were allowed to study tactonic physics, you need me. So if you’re thinking of leaving me behind, you’d best reconsider.”

  His tone was ice. “I don’t need a fripping First on my ship, around my children, or in my life.”

  “You aren’t the only one who has suffered, you know. My parents were murdered during the slave rebellion that you’re so proud of. I saw them die. I saw them torn limb from limb, and I vowed that no other child would ever have to watch such a terrible thing.”

  His eyes didn’t soften. He didn’t give any encouragement other than to remain there speaking to her and firing his questions. “The Corps trained you to hide your Quait?” he asked, his tone cynical.

  “I’m not perfect at it.”

  “You lose control . . . ?”

  “When I’m emotional.”

  He glared at her. “If you believe staying on Zor means dying, you’ll be very emotional. I suppose I can’t stop you from coming onto my ship. Not with your Quait handy.”

  “Actually you can stop me any time you wish. All you have to do . . .”

  “Yes?”

  She straightened her back. “Is kill me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “And how can I kill you if you control my
will?”

  “Am I controlling you now?” she pointed out the obvious.

  “If I tried to kill you, you’d become emotional. Your self-defense mechanism would go into overdrive.”

  “There are long distance weapons. Poisons. Rifles. In your ship, you could easily trap me in an airlock and eject me. I am alone. I have to sleep. No one watches my back. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to kill me, should you wish to do so.”

  “Damn, you’re cold.”

  Actually, she was freezing and in agony over his insult. Just because she could point out facts didn’t mean that she wasn’t about to bleed. But she pushed that down, too, knowing she couldn’t function if she allowed any more pain to seep in.

  “I didn’t ask to be like I am. I was born with Quait, just as you were born with muscles that can violate those weaker than you. You lose your balance, and your muscles flex. If you get angry and swing your fist, you have the ability to injure others. That’s what happens to me with my Quait.”

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  “No, it’s not.” Sadness swept her into a melancholy moment. All her life she’d been fighting for a cause. To ensure other children didn’t lose their parents. To ensure there would be no more rebellions. To ensure there would be peace. Instead, while earning the wrath of her own people as well as Derrek’s, she’d found herself at ground zero of a killer asteroid. Perhaps she should have stayed with her own kind, but it was too late. She’d made her choice. Weary of fighting, she still wished for peace. For a shot at a normal life. Was that so much to ask for?

  His eyes burned into hers. “You stand for everything I hate.”

  “I know.”

  “You can’t even promise you won’t use your Quait again, can you?”

  She shrugged. “This is my first slip-up in many years. But no, I can no more guarantee I won’t use my Quait than you can guarantee you won’t use your muscles to protect yourself when threatened.”

  “You weren’t being threatened.”

  “I’m trying to make you understand how instinctive it is for me to use my Quait. For all I know, it might happen every time I make love—not that I expect you to test that theory.”

  “That’s for damn sure.”

  She’d expected his blunt words, his withdrawal, and his anger, but wasn’t prepared for the deep pain that felt like she’d been whipped, or the cold ball of nausea in her gut that almost made her wish he’d never found her sleeping pod. Because sleeping away eternity was better than suffering through his loathing.

  But she’d have to live or die with the choice she’d made.

  And she had only herself to blame.

  17

  DERREK’S COM LINK beeped, and he appreciated the interruption that gave him an excuse to cut out of his conversation with Azsla without looking like a coward. From the moment he’d realized what Azsla was, a First, he’d broken into a horrified cold sweat. “Sauren, I’m on the way.”

  “Wait a sec.” Azsla spoke almost hesitantly.

  “Or what?” He spun around and glared at her, ignoring that every word he spoke seemed to hit her like a punch to the jaw. Ignoring the stark hurt in her eyes, ignoring the disappointment and pain, he couldn’t hold back all his rage. She’d misled him from the first moment they’d met, and now he needed to get away from her before he exploded with her betrayal, a self-indulgence he couldn’t afford, not when the backlash of her retaliation was an unknown factor. Somehow he managed to keep his tone civil, albeit curt. “You going to stop me?”

  “No one can stop you from your own stupidity.”

  How dare she talk to him like that? Apparently, now that her secret was out, she didn’t have to be courteous, and he’d finally see the real Azsla, who was no doubt arrogant, cold, and self-serving.

  He placed his hands on his hips to keep himself from slamming his fist into a wall. “My stupidity?”

  “Yes.” She dropped the sheet, picked up her clothes, and dressed. “Or do you have so many tactonic experts on Zor that you can refuse my help?”

  Help? She’d probably use those tactonics to speed the weapon on its journey.

  But she was right about one thing. They had no tactonic experts on Zor. The Ramans had made certain their slaves never had access to powerful weapons research. And once the slaves escaped to Zor, they’d focused primarily on building a home, not fighting their former masters. Another mistake.

  “How do I know you won’t be trying to destroy us?” he asked, curious to hear how she would defend herself. He should have known better.

  She didn’t defend, she attacked. “How do I know you won’t shoot me the first chance you get?” she countered in a tight tone as she buttoned her blouse.

  He spun on his heel. “Do whatever you wish.” He obviously couldn’t stop her. But should he try? The idea hammered him like a hundred-ton weight. As angry as he was, he was no cold-blooded killer. Deep down he suspected in the heat of the moment he could kill to defend the lives of friends or family, but to plan her murder and carry it out while she slept? The idea sickened him.

  Besides, a tiny part of him wanted to believe her. He didn’t just have a vision to daydream over. Now they’d mated. He knew her taste, her scent, her touch. And damn, they’d been good together. Every cell in him ached to believe her. Could she possibly be telling the truth? Was he a fool for considering that she might actually be willing to help them?

  Did he want to believe her for personal reasons?

  Yes.

  But that didn’t mean—

  Oh, for pity’s sake. The voice in his head was back. I am not just a voice. My name is Pepko.

  Find someone else to annoy.

  The alien ignored him. Go with your heart.

  Get out of my head.

  I can’t right now. At least admit you love her.

  Not anymore, I don’t, and I don’t have time for you.

  The alien’s telepathic thought hardened. Make time, or there will be nothing else. Only death.

  Are you threatening me? Derrek asked.

  Nothing so mundane. I’m stating facts. You need the woman to stop Katadama from colliding with Zor.

  Derrek had a flipping alien in his head and a traitorous First in his bed. He had to be out of his mind. If he was the only person Zor had to save the planet from disaster, then Vigo help them all.

  Frustration sizzled through Derrek’s veins. If you’re so all-knowing, why don’t you do something to help?

  I am helping.

  “How?” he asked aloud.

  “Did you say something?” Azsla asked as she walked beside him.

  He shook his head.

  You need to stop questioning your feelings. The woman has the knowledge you seek.

  She’s the enemy. She steals free will. She is a damn First.

  So what?

  You don’t know what she’s capable of.

  Neither do you.

  I’ve seen plenty. She’s just like the rest of them.

  That’s where you’re wrong. You need her.

  The alien repeated Azsla’s own words. Furious that it seemed as if they were ganging up on him, Derrek strode down the hall and descended with Azsla to his control room, where Sauren and Taylo Misa, linked in by vidscreen, waited for him.

  Too energized with anger to take the seat at the head of the conference table, Derrek stood behind his chair, his hands gripping the cushioned back. Azsla didn’t look at him and quietly took a seat opposite Sauren.

  Sauren nodded to Azsla. “Your crew left for the safety of the asteroid mines a few micronbits ago.”

  “Thank you,” she said to Sauren, and then to Derrek, “Thank you both.”

  She appeared to have genuine feelings for her crew, mere slaves, and Derrek wondered if
it was an act. Then Sauren turned to him. “Cade and his family are safely onboard a ship and heading out of the system.”

  “The others?” Derrek asked.

  “We can save all our people and their families, but not too many others. We simply can’t get enough craft here in time.”

  “What’s Katadama’s status?” Derrek leaned into the vidscreen, praying the brilliant engineer, Taylo, had a solution and would distract him from Azsla, who seemed to have drawn a shield around herself. An impenetrable shield so tight that he couldn’t venture to guess her thoughts. With her face stoic, her eyes narrowed and detached, she’d shut down on him, icing him out.

  Taylo, a strapping man with dark blue eyes and a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, stared at Derrek through the monitor from across the solar system. “We have several choices. Our astronomers have now used sensors to render a more precise picture. After Katadama swings around the sun, it’ll be on a dead collision course with Zor.”

  The prediction was no surprise, especially if the Ramans had planned to take out the entire planet. But Derrek finally admitted to himself that he’d been hoping Katadama would turn on its own and that action would be unnecessary. His last grasp for an easy solution dissolved, leaving him with the bitter truth. They needed to find a way to change the asteroid’s course or blow it up. If they failed, hundreds of thousands of people, his people, would perish.

  Derrek’s fingers dug into the seat back, probably leaving permanent indentations. “What are our options?”

  “I’ve considered how to deal with the problem from several angles,” Taylo said. “If we’d had more time, we could have focused solar collectors to concentrate sunlight on the asteroid and vaporize enough material to alter its course. But it could take years for sunlight to redirect Katadama, and we don’t have years.”

  “Let’s limit this discussion to practical options.” Derrek understood Taylo liked to be thorough, but he’d never gotten the man to understand he didn’t need to hear discarded theories. He liked the pertinent details boiled down to their essence.

  “Sorry, boss man. There aren’t any practical solutions,” Sauren said, his face grim.