Mercenary Courage (Mandrake Company)

by Lionsdrake, Ruby

  “Viktor?” Ankari whispered, resting her chin in the valley between his pecs and tilting her face toward him. “I never want to leave you.”

  The naked adoration on her face filled him with a surge of warmth that had nothing to do with erections and sex.

  “I love you,” she added, that vulnerability back in her eyes.

  The words sent a jolt of energy through him that was just as powerful as the lust charging through his veins. She had said the words before, flippantly, usually in parting, but she hadn’t gazed into his eyes and spoken them with real feeling. Neither of them had. Perhaps because they had both lost so much in their pasts, been hurt so often and endured so much. Teasing and irreverence were easier than admitting feelings.

  Viktor growled and picked her up. He would please her first. He didn’t know if he could manage words, but he would make sure she knew that he felt the same way.

  Ankari caught his shoulders, her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t look worried. His growls never fazed her, whether they were growls of rage and leveled at someone else or growls of desire leveled at her. He kissed her as he carried her to the bed, reminding himself to keep the touch of his lips gentle and loving rather than eager and thrusting. There was time for all of that later. For now, he wanted to lavish attention on her, to adore her with his hands and his mouth, to thank her for being his partner and his confidante.

  Her fingers slid through his hair and gripped the back of his head as he laid her on the bed, coming down beside her. Not atop her, as his cock wished, but next to her so he could kiss her, and stroke her body as he slowly removed her clothes.

  Ankari let him take the lead, but her hands roamed, too, running up and down his back, pushing through his hair, and scraping lightly across his skin with her fingernails. As delicious as he found the sensations, he kept his focus on her, on kissing her lips, then moving down her throat, licking and sucking as he slid the fastener of her blouse open. Her pert nipples were already tight, pushing against the material of her bra, even though he had not touched her breasts yet. Her responsiveness always excited him, and he lowered his head, nibbling at her through the satiny material.

  Both of her hands found the back of his head, and she pushed up toward him even as she pulled him down, as if she wanted him to swallow her whole. Good. He slipped his hand behind her back, brushing the fastener on her bra. She wriggled, helping him push it and her blouse away, and her shimmying breasts arrested his attention. He cupped them with his hands and nuzzled her, enjoying her scent and the touch of her soft skin as he kissed his way over the curves of her body. He took his time, ignoring the hard ache of his cock as it pressed against her thigh.

  Her breathing quickened, and she groaned when he pinched one of her nipples, teasing it even as he laved the other with his tongue. Gooseflesh arose on her sweet belly as he left his hands to lavish attention on her breasts while his mouth traveled lower. Her muscles quivered as he traced them with his tongue, licking the tiny beads of sweat gleaming on her skin, evidence of how much she was straining toward him, how much she wanted him.

  “Viktor,” she breathed, her fingers curling in his hair, tightening as she nudged him lower.

  While he kissed his way through her mound of curls and to the liquid heat waiting for him, he thought of the way she had watched over him while he fought that young upstart in the gym, the way she had climbed that tree and risked venomous dragons to walk at his side, and the way she had fearlessly dealt with those bombs while he was too busy fighting elsewhere to notice them. He curled his hands under her ass and slid his tongue between her lips, stroking with enthusiasm, inhaling her scent, relishing her taste, enjoying the way she panted and squirmed against him. He wanted so much to share his appreciation with her, to make sure she never had a reason to revoke her earlier words, that she wanted to stay with him, always.

  “Viktor,” she repeated, his name a gasp this time as she bucked beneath his mouth, pushing up to him.

  Her fingers dug into the blanket underneath her as she spread her legs, giving all of herself to him. The knowledge that she trusted him as fully as he had come to trust her made him swell with even greater desire. His cock strained toward her, insanely aroused by the glistening pink flesh before him, and once again, he had to battle with the urge to spring atop her and take her like some animal. Instead, he stroked her languidly, brushing against her sensitive nub, not rushing anything, even though her squirming grew more frenzied and she called out for him again. He wanted to prolong her pleasure, to make this memorable for her.

  When her breaths came in gasps, the taut skin of her belly shivering as she pressed up toward him, he knew she was ready. He shifted his focus to her clitoris, covering it with his mouth and cupping his tongue around it. She panted, writhing on the blanket, and whispered an impassioned, “Please... I can’t... I—”

  Viktor sucked gently, stroking her with his tongue, almost as excited as she was. He shifted his hips, his cock rubbing against the blanket, and he groaned at his own sensation, as well as at her quivering body. The vibration of his lips against hers made her cry out, stiffening, and then collapsing on the bed. The tension fled her body even as Viktor’s own need heightened. He shifted against the blankets again, wanting her hand—her hot body—around him, rather than the rasp of fabric.

  He stroked her further, while she settled, her shuddering breaths gradually slowing. Finally, he lifted his mouth and gazed past her glistening flesh and up to her face, watching to see what she wanted. She was watching him back, meeting his eyes across her breasts, the pale mounds rising and falling with her deep breaths. The sight of those lush peaks made him think once again of pouncing on her, driving into her until—

  “I believe you were open to taking some instructions?” she asked, and he forced his attention back to her face. Her eyes were sultry, her lashes brushing her cheeks. Instructions, she had said. He knew he had pleased her—it was written in the satisfaction on her face—but he was not above taking direction; he wanted this to be special for her.

  “Yes.” He might already be struggling not to climb atop her, but he felt proud that he had pleased her, that she wanted more. He could contain himself to give her that. When he finally took her, the release would be all that much sweeter.

  “Good,” she whispered.

  He shifted back over her mound of curls, expecting her to want more attention from his mouth.

  But she patted the pillow next to her. “Come lie down.” That mischievous smile returned to her face. “On your back.”

  Ah, now what did she have in mind? He remembered the way she had straddled him in that maintenance tunnel, how quickly he had grown aroused at having her legs spread across his lap, her core pressing against his cock. He would have gladly joined with her there, station alarms and tight quarters be damned.

  He kissed her curls and gave her a few lazy parting licks before he moved to follow her instructions. He surprised a gasp out of her and smiled, knowing he could bring her to readiness again soon, if she wished that.

  “Hurry up, soldier,” Ankari said, though she was still smiling. As he shifted himself up next to her on the bed, she placed a hand against his chest, pushing him back. “I see you’re slow to obey orders.”

  “I thought they were instructions,” he said, sliding a hand up her arm but not moving her palm from his chest. Even that chaste touch was enough to send a fresh surge of blood pulsing into his shaft. He hoped that whatever play she had in mind would not take too long. She sat up, her naked body on display for him, and it took an extreme effort not to push her back to the bed and roll on top of her.

  “Nah, they’re orders.” Her eyes gleamed, and she bent her head to kiss his chest.

  He touched her hair, holding it back from her face, so he could watch her lips touching him, her tongue flicking out to swipe across his hard nipple.

  “Hands behind your head, soldier,” she said, giving him another kiss, and then leaning back, her lips full and m
oist as she grinned down at him. Enjoying giving orders, was she? It would be a shame not to be able to touch her. He reached out, cupping a full breast before giving in and clasping his hands behind his head.

  “So slow to obey.” She clucked her tongue. “However did you make it through your Fleet training?”

  He might have had some witty response, but she slipped her leg over him, her knees resting on either side of his hips, and she grasped his rigid penis. It responded as if it had a mind of its own, pressing against her hand, eager for the attention he had been denying it. She rose up on her knees, rubbing him against her lips, and he groaned, his eyes locked on her. Her moisture dampened his shaft, and he wanted to thrust upward, to bury himself inside of her. He almost reached out to grab her hips, to center her on him, but he remembered her order and instead clenched his hands in the pillow behind his head and watched her. Oh, how he adored the sight of her lithe body, and it was on display beautifully for him now. He arched his hips, wanting to find her tight depths.

  “I love the feel of you, Viktor,” Ankari breathed, her eyes closed.

  Her breasts swayed as she shifted her weight, stroking his stomach with one hand and holding him against her with the other. Her hair dangled free about her face, framing those beautiful mounds, and he couldn’t help himself. He reached out, capturing one with his hand, rubbing his thumb across her nipple.

  She moaned, her lips parting as she leaned into his grasp, and he did not think she would object to his touch, but she seemed to remember her order then. Her eyes opened, and her eyebrows rose. “Where are your hands, Viktor?”

  “About three seconds from grabbing your hips,” he said. It came out as a growl. His cock ached to sink into her, and he didn’t think he could handle the teasing any more.

  “Good thing you’re the captain,” she said as she rose up higher on her knees. “You make a horrible subordinate.”

  She spread her thighs farther, preparing to come down upon him, and his cock strained toward her.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, both hands stroking her breasts now. He flexed his abdomen and rose high enough to capture one nipple between his lips, and her gasp delighted his ears.

  “Don’t stop.”

  Ankari planted her hand on his chest and came down on him. She slid onto his engorged cock, taking every inch of him, clenching him within her tight walls as she descended. Shudders of pleasure ricocheted through his body. He groaned, or maybe it was another growl. His mind stopped working as she rose and dipped, the friction delicious as she gyrated atop him. Exquisite pulses of sensation came with each stroke, and with her head flung back, her lips parted, she seemed to be enjoying herself, too, but he wanted to make sure. He lowered one hand to her hip and with the other slid his thumb between her lips, finding her swollen clitoris.

  She gasped, seemingly surprised at first, but then she increased her pace, almost frenzied as she rode him, grinding into him. Her passion only increased his, and he was barely aware of himself growling her name, praising her beauty and perfection as waves of ecstasy flowed through him, her tight sweetness wrapped about him. They came together, crying out each other’s names, and he caught her when she collapsed against his chest, her limbs trembling.

  “Come here,” he murmured, keeping her atop him and tugging the blanket over her.

  He kissed her eyes, her nose, her lips, needing to hold her, to express the feelings of tenderness that swelled inside of him. She smiled, kissing him back and stroking his face.

  “My life would have been empty without you,” he whispered. “You make me care about living.”

  “Good.” She snuggled against his chest. “I don’t want to hear any more talk about my safety or being sent away for my own good.”

  “No,” Viktor agreed, holding her to him, breathing in the scent of her shampoo—of her—and knowing he never wanted anybody else there.

  • • • • •

  Ankari woke up to the sound of Viktor’s stomach grumbling. She smiled groggily. That would teach him to walk out of the shower in all of his naked glory and distract her from her dinner preparations.

  The side of her face was resting against his chest, so she slid her hand down to pat his stomach. She was hungry, too, but was reluctant to slide out of his embrace—one arm rested across her lower back, holding her to him. She still felt a happy glow from his attentive lovemaking, and from the tender way he had looked back at her when she had confessed that she loved him.

  She hadn’t intended to speak so honestly, but she did not regret it. She wanted him to understand why staying with him meant so much to her, but at the same time she had been a little worried he might pull away or appear alarmed by the open display of feelings. After they had spent months together—albeit, months that were often interrupted by his work and hers—she had not thought he would, but one never knew with men. There was an art to making such confessions. Neither too soon, nor too late. Definitely not when the other person did not feel the same way. She did not expect Viktor to say the words aloud—after all, this was a man who responded to questions with grunts at least half the time—but she trusted that he cared about her too. Why else would he tag along with her to foolishly confront mafia men?

  Another soft rumble came from beneath her hand.

  “Your belly is demanding a food log,” Ankari said, expecting him to either be awake or to have woken when she started letting her fingers roam. He had those paranoid warrior instincts and never seemed to sleep deeply. “Have you eaten at all today?”

  She was not sure if it was still the same day, but she sensed that she had only dozed for an hour or so rather than sleeping through the night.

  “They gave me a ration bar early on during my jail time,” Viktor murmured, sliding his hand up her back and settling in her hair, massaging her scalp with his fingers.

  Ah, now she definitely did not want to get up.

  Unfortunately, her comm unit beeped from somewhere—wherever her trousers had ended up, most likely. She lay there, basking in Viktor’s massage, and might have ignored it, but he spoke.

  “Did you ever reply to your mother?”

  Ankari grimaced, a wave of guilt washing aside her pleasant feeling of languor. “No.”

  Viktor did not say anything else to deepen her guilt, but she sensed that he thought she should make sure her mother knew she had survived the craziness at the station. After the loss he had suffered, he must believe one should treasure whatever kin a person did have. He was probably right. Maybe he would like to be part of a family again someday. She didn’t know if her family was the ideal one to be adopted into, but she ought to take him to meet her parents and siblings someday. Her mother might think she wouldn’t like a mercenary, but Ankari felt certain that in enough time, careers would be forgotten, and Mom would come to appreciate Viktor.

  “All right.” She kissed his chest and pushed herself into a sitting position. “You talked me into checking on her.”

  Viktor’s brows rose slightly, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Yes, just like that.” Ankari slid out of the bed, her own stomach whining pitifully when she spotted the take-out boxes on the table. She checked the comm unit, saw that it had been her mother, and that it had been the eighth time she had called. She decided speaking to her mother had to come before food. She would look forward to eating though, a good meal purchased from one of the casino restaurants right before they had left in the shuttle. “Someday, you’re going to give me a birthday present, Viktor. A chef.”

  She patted one of the boxes fondly on her way by, then headed to the lavatory where she kept a robe on a hook. One probably shouldn’t call one’s mother while naked.

  “A chef?” Viktor asked. “On a mercenary ship?”

  “Don’t you think your men would fight harder if they had good food in their bellies?”

  “The Dekaron VI ration logs have all the vitamins, minerals, and calories that an active man needs.”

  “So t
he wrappers tell me.” Ankari tied the belt on her robe, wrestled a brush through her hair, and walked back out to the table. “There’s no mention of the word good on them, though.”

  “I wouldn’t object to a chef if he had combat training and could be useful in the field.”

  Poor deluded Viktor—he truly didn’t seem to think culinary skills would be “useful” to his company.

  “I’ll put out a flier,” Ankari said.

  He eyed her suspiciously. Despite the squint, he looked quite appealing lying over there, propped on one elbow, his broad chest bare, the sheets gathered around his waist. Ankari supposed it was because she was dreading another lecture from her mother that she wanted to crawl back in bed with him.

  Her stomach issued another pitiful whine. She would crawl back in bed with him—and with some food—after she took care of this task. Since Viktor’s cabin did not have another room and she didn’t feel like leaving, she decided to talk to her mother with him there. As she picked up the comm unit, a new thought occurred to her.

  “Would you like to talk to my mother?”

  “Why?” He didn’t sound like he loathed the idea, but he did seem puzzled.

  “So she can see that you’re a nice man.”

  “How would me talking to her result in that conclusion?”

  Ankari snorted. “You could just stand behind me and hug me in a supportive way.” She waved at his bare chest. “Though you might want to put trousers on first. Or... maybe not. If Mom saw you naked, she might be less mystified as to why I’m here.” She grinned at him.

  “She knows you like scarred men with gray hair and tattoos?” He slid out of bed, looked around, seemed to remember he had never had any clothes to toss off, and walked to his closet.