Enemy Overnight (5 page)

Dr. Ketrok stepped up beside Hastion.

“This is a masturbation probe,” he announced, holding up one of the silver spheres in his palm. “It’s a myzare probe that has been reconfigured to induce ejaculation by detecting and stimulating the prostate gland.”

Shauss shifted uncomfortably. As far as he knew, Ketrok had kept his unwilling role in the discovery of anal orgasm to himself. Hopefully the good doctor would be as discreet about the probe’s origins.

“Used in conjunction with manual stimulation of the penis,” Ketrok continued, “and applied after spur emergence, the probe has proven to be one hundred percent effective. Since Ensign Hastion has been kind enough to stimulate himself to emergence, he will now demonstrate proper use.”

Shauss barely suppressed a snort. Proper use barely required instruction, much less demonstration, but the high council thought warriors might require reassurance that no stigma would be attached to allowing the probe access to their waste canals. Of course most of the council had been dead from the waist down for decades and had forgotten the urgency of unspent sexual energy—otherwise they would realize that no young, healthy warrior would let fear of being shunned by his peers prevent him from seeking release after years of deprivation.

Hastion scooped the probe from Ketrok’s palm and turned to display his profile. Reaching behind him, he placed the shimmering sphere against his buttocks, where it immediately began reassembling into its new matrix.

A disturbance made Hastion look up and grin. Following his gaze to the port entry, Shauss sighed. What in Peserin’s name was Monica doing in here? The last thing this restless crew needed was exposure to a mature Garathani female, and a gorgeous one at that.

He shot her a look that said
leave
, but she came right over beside him and leaned against the back wall to observe Hastion’s display, giving every indication of clinical detachment. Shauss sighed again. Kellen must have let her know he’d returned safely and was trapped in the general session—she’d obviously decided to go on the offensive.

“In the corridor,” he said under his breath.

“But I just got here,” she whispered back.

“And now you’re just leaving.”

She ignored him.

“A probe’s programming,” Ketrok continued, “can be customized to the user’s preferences. The size and shape can be modified to mimic one or more fingers, or even a penis. Its programmed functions include heat, vibration of varying speeds and intensities, gyration, and thrusting motion similar to intercourse.”

The crowd of macho warriors took a moment to eye each other suspiciously and Shauss looked skyward with a sigh. What was Ketrok thinking, going on about the probe’s intercourse functions? Shauss had incorporated the penile matrices not with males in mind, but with some vague idea of using them to torture Monica.

That would teach him to indulge his libidinous impulses in the tech labs.

Hastion groaned, his agitation growing as the probe’s sinuous, seductive finger zeroed in on his prostate. The heightened color in Monica’s cheeks as she watched told Shauss she wasn’t as detached as she liked to pretend—the hardened nipples straining against her wrapsuit told him it was time to get her out of there before she started emitting a pheromone stream that would make it impossible to protect her.

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her into the corridor. “What was so important that it couldn’t wait until after the demonstration?”

She shot him a glare. “It could have waited, but you’d have disappeared. Again.”

“I never disappear, Monica. Empran is aware of my whereabouts at all times.”

“Empran is a cold bitch who lives to fuck with me.”

“Empran is a computer,” he said as he ducked into a nearby consult room. “She doesn’t live, and she certainly doesn’t fuck with anyone.”

“That’s what you—”
Thud!
“Ouch!”

Shauss turned to see her kick the half-open door as she rubbed her forehead.

“God damn it, see what I mean?” she snarled, wrapping her hands around the door’s edge and forcing it open far enough to slide into the room. “Fucking cyber-bitch! I swear to God she’s out to get me.”

He tried not to feel guilty about ordering Empran to make it difficult for Monica to follow him. The computer had obviously taken his orders a little too literally.

Knowing exactly why she was stalking him, he invited her to sit at the consult table.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she accused as she flopped into the chair.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy, my ass. Doing what?”

“Well, you don’t think that myzare probe was actually designed with prostate stimulation in mind, do you?”

“So that’s your doing, huh? Very original, but it couldn’t have taken that long to reprogram it.”

“Monica,” he said in an eminently reasonable tone, “I do have obligations as an officer of the Garathani fleet, and in addition to my regular duties and modifying the probe, I’ve been assisting with evacuee management—not to mention trying to track down Pret’s accomplices.”

“Yeah, and you have a mate you haven’t set eyes on since the day we rebonded.”

“That was only two days ago, and Kellen and I have both been busy.”

“At least Kellen slept with me last night. You couldn’t even be bothered to answer my messages.” When he didn’t reply, she continued. “You just got back together with us to protect me from having to accept another mate, didn’t you? Admit it—I was a pity fuck.”

His bark of laughter was harsh. “You have the nerve to say that to
me
?”

She recoiled as if he’d struck her. “You’re not a pity fuck to me, Shauss,” she said in a dangerous voice. “I thought we both benefited from being bonded.”

“We do,” he said, striving for a reasonable tone. “And I’ll take ample advantage of those benefits when time allows.”

Monica stared at him for a moment, and then said, “Kellen explained to me about your spur being…the wrong shape for my nook. I didn’t know that could happen.”

It took every ounce of his self-control to meet her gaze because, to a certain extent, she was correct about his motives for rebonding with them. The realization that her nook was too small to accommodate his unusually wide spur had rung the death knell for any hope that he might one day be on equal footing with Kellen in their bond, but he hadn’t wanted to force her into accepting another mate she neither knew nor cared for. He, at least, was a known quantity, and she had professed to love him—though not to be
in love
with him the way she was with Kellen.

Restricting himself to anal sex with her served a threefold purpose. It allowed him to take her face-to-face, with his spur in her vagina. It prevented pregnancy, and thus the possibility of their being permanently bound. And it gave Shauss the illusion of having a part of Monica that was his alone.

And an illusion it was—Monica belonged heart and soul to Kellen, and despite the man’s alleged distaste for taking her anally, there was no doubt he would eventually claim every part of her.

“So you understand,” he finally said, “that my already-slim odds of finding a compatible Garathani mate were reduced to virtually zero by the biowar attack.”

She nodded. “I also understand that the spur situation is just one more reason why you feel like you’re a pity fuck to me. But that knife cuts both ways, Shauss. It makes me feel like a consolation prize to you too, someone you have to settle for because your real mate probably—”

“You
are
my real mate.” Heaving an exasperated sigh, he reached over and took one of her hands between his. “Monica, I know you believe that you and Kellen have some kind of predestined love, but as a rule, we Garathani don’t subscribe to the concept of soul mates. Even before the biowar attack, we tended to mate for expediency, and since then we’ve had to approach mating even more pragmatically. You are as real a mate as I could ever have expected to have.”

She shrugged out of his hold and crossed her arms over his chest. “That’s not what you told me in the atrium. You said you couldn’t settle for anything less than what I have with Kellen. And yet…” She arched one eloquent brow at him.

Shauss digested that for a moment before replying carefully, “That was…a temporary aberration.”

“From which you’ve now recovered.”

The blatant skepticism coloring her tone made him grit his teeth. Peserin, but she was obstinate.

He was casting around for a way to draw her off point when he was paged.
“
Tiber to Lieutenant Shauss.”

“Shauss here. What is it, Doctor?”

“There’s an unconscious candidate in the atrium port corridor.”

“I’m on my way.”
Shauss frowned as he rose from his seat. What was a candidate doing down here? To Monica, he said, “My apologies, sweet one, but I’m required in the port entry.”

“Saved by the bell, huh?” she said, standing as well. “Maybe I’ll go with you.”

He swept his arm toward the door. “Be my guest. You might be needed.”

Jasmine frowned in her dream. It felt wonderful to be held like a child again, but something wasn’t right. “Shauss?”

Unfamiliar voices rumbled around her and her heartbeat picked up as she started to struggle. Or she would have struggled if her body didn’t weigh ten times what it normally did.

“You’re not Shauss,” she mumbled. “Where’s Shauss?”

The arms holding her shifted and she gasped at the brief sensation of weightlessness. Then suddenly she was where she belonged.

She sighed with relief, soaking up nirvana with her nose as she snuggled into that solid, masculine chest. If someone would hand her a spoon, she’d gobble him right up.

“Hey, Stepford, can you hear me?” Cool fingers patted her cheek. “Jasmine?”

She stirred reluctantly and frowned. Monica’s voice was an unwelcome variation. Time to wake up before her lovely dream turned to another nightmare.

When she managed to lift her heavy eyelids, Shauss was still holding her. Apparently knowing she was asleep didn’t mean she could wake on command.

“Will you ever stop haunting my dreams, Lieutenant?” she murmured.

This time his dark eyes held nothing more threatening than a man’s inquisitive awareness of a woman, and figuring she might as well enjoy herself before the dream went to hell, Jasmine slid a hand up into his long, slick hair. Noting the absence of Spock ears with relief, she pulled his face down to hers for another one of those delicious kisses.

The minute their lips met, she let her eyes close and drew his tongue into her mouth. His flavor was more subtle this time but no less intriguing, and her breath quickened along with her pulse as longing gripped her insides.

Shauss squeezed her closer to his chest as his tongue circled hers once, twice. When he tried to withdraw, she bit down none too gently to hold him in place and felt his cock surge against her hip.

He tore his mouth away from hers and stared down at her with a frown.

Sighing her regret, Jasmine smoothed a fingertip over the crease between his fine black brows and his grip tightened again on her ribs and thigh.

“Not in the mood tonight, huh?” she asked. “That’s okay. Maybe we should just skip the sex and the dripping fangs this time and go straight to the sword. I’m tired of dreading it.” She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes again, snaking her arms around his chest and holding him tight. “I’ve heard that if you fall off a cliff in a dream and hit bottom, you actually die. Does that mean that if you chop off my head in this dream, I’ll wake up decapitated?”

The very idea should scare the bejeebers out of her, but somehow it just didn’t matter right now.

“Jasmine,” came that wry feminine voice again, “what you just said is wrong on so many levels, I don’t even know where to start, but if I were you, I’d wake the fuck up.”

“Monica?” She opened her eyes again and tried to focus.

“Girl, you are freaking me out. Did you hit your head on something?”

Jasmine frowned. “I don’t know. I…”

Then she noticed the spiky-haired blond guy crouched beside Monica. As big as he was, she should probably be nervous, but he didn’t look dangerous. In fact, he looked like a ski patrolman, someone she could trust with her life. His clear brown eyes were filled with concern and curiosity as he stared back at her. The lines and creases on his lean, tanned face spoke of both laughter and pain, and yet his expression held no trace of bitterness.

He smiled. “Hello.”

“Hi,” she said breathlessly. “Do I know you?”

“Jasmine,” Monica said, “meet Tiber. He’s the one who scraped you off the atrium floor.”

“Hmm?” Jasmine blinked at her. “Atrium? What was I doing there?”

“We were about to ask you the same question.” The harshness in Shauss’ voice made the bottom drop out of her stomach. She hid her face in his chest and tried to hang on to the contentment that was beginning to evaporate with every accelerating beat of her heart. “What sort of life-and-death matter could compel you to intrude on a Garathani sexual demonstration?”

If his tone wasn’t enough to make her stomach roll, his words sent the image of a naked warrior through her mind.

“No!” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut tight. She didn’t want to remember that.

“Back off, Shauss,” Monica ordered. “You’re the last person who should be quizzing her after what you did.”

“What
I
did?” He sounded offended. “
She
kissed
me
, remember?”

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

“It can wait until she’s more comfortable, Lieutenant,” Tiber said.

“I don’t know, Doctor,” Shauss returned. “She seems quite comfortable to me.”

Doctor. Tiber was a Garathani doctor.

She wasn’t dreaming now, was she?

“Oh my God!” She tried to bolt off Shauss’ lap and the world tilted.

“Take it easy, Jas,” Monica said.

Shauss’ hard hands grasped her waist. “I’ve got her.”

That’s what he thought. Throwing her weight forward, she managed to jerk free of his grasp and tumble onto the padded floor. She scrambled over to a couch and leaned against it, pulling her knees up to her chest. The nasal spray bottle digging into her hip bone made her lightheaded with relief. Thank goodness she hadn’t lost it.

“Where am I?” she gasped, breathing heavily. “How long was I out?”

“Apparently not long.” Shauss stood over her. “And you’re in Atrium Consult Three. Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

“No!” She tore her gaze away and shook her head emphatically. Even though she felt queasy, the infirmary was the last place she wanted to go.

A quick scan of the room revealed no sign of the bald mountain. Good. One less bastard to witness her ongoing humiliation.

Then she groaned and dropped her forehead to her knees. Dear God, she’d just kissed Shauss. In front of
Monica
. What else could she do to utterly screw herself?

“Seriously, Jas, calm down,” Monica commanded. “No one here’s going to hurt you.”

Jasmine made a conscious effort to slow her heartbeat and respiration. Taking stock of her condition, she realized that, except for the dizziness and nausea that were probably to be expected after holding her breath until she passed out, she didn’t really feel any different. She certainly wasn’t experiencing the kind of intoxication Monica had after a significant exposure to male pheromones. Maybe there was no irreversible damage done after all.

“I’m fine,” she said, raising her head with a shaky sigh.

“Are you sure? You look kind of shocky,” Monica said. “After what you went through, it must have been an ugly surprise to walk in there and see all those guys.”

“Totally ugly,” Jasmine agreed faintly. The last thing she’d expected to see when she rounded the corner was a naked Ensign Hastion frantically stroking his engorged phallus. The spectacle had rooted her to the floor for an instant, her face in flames, before she noticed the hundreds of Garathani warriors also watching him. Then she’d taken one breathless step backward and run into a wall of muscle.

“Why were you there in the first place?” Shauss asked.

Jasmine looked at him then, letting her anger flare. “Because that baldheaded ape sent me there.”

Shauss frowned. “Zannen?”

“How many baldheaded apes are on this ship?”

His lips quirked, making her heart skip another beat. “Just the one.”

“Well, that’s one too many.”

“You should have left at once,” he said severely. “A roomful of aroused Garathani is a dangerous place for a lone female.”

“I tried! The jerk was right behind me and held me there, made me watch…” She swallowed, her heart jumping in her throat. God, she’d never been so terrified as when those fingers of iron closed around her upper arms and held her in place. She’d frozen, unable to look behind her. What if it was Shauss trapping her there?

What if it wasn’t?

Then Zannen had murmured in her ear, “Leaving so soon? I thought it was a matter of life and death.”

Fear of drawing the attention of all the males avidly watching the demonstration had kept her still and silent and, like an idiot, she’d held her breath instead of just breathing through her mouth. The pressure in her lungs had built to intolerable levels, and the last thing she remembered was Ensign Hastion shooting his semen across the stage.

“Why would he do that?” Shauss asked.

She threw her hands up. “Why do you people do anything?”

Feeling steadier, she got to her feet. Definitely better, though she still felt small and incredibly vulnerable next to all the tall bodies in the room. She walked over to look out the window. God, there it was—Earth! It looked deceptively, cruelly close. She started to put a hand out to touch it and then turned away.

“You have to admit he’s an asshole, Shauss,” Monica said. “When I go down there to see Kellen, he looks at me like something he scraped off his boot.”

“Zannen’s comportment in the presence of females has always left much to be desired,” Tiber volunteered. “But otherwise he’s a fine officer.”

“You still haven’t told us what you were doing at the command center, Miss King,” Shauss reminded her. “Did you require some sort of assistance?”

Her fingers slid down to rest over the lump in her pocket. “I, uh, really need to talk to Monica. Alone. It’s…female stuff.”

Shauss regarded her quietly for a moment and she held her breath again. Maybe he wouldn’t trust her alone with Monica.

Finally he gave a short nod and she released her pent-up breath with a gusty sigh. “Thank you.”

He looked at her penetratingly for a moment before saying, “You’ve been ill served by two Garathani officers, and that reflects poorly on our entire race. Ambassador Pret has already been put to death for his treachery.” When Jasmine gasped, he added, “Not by us—even in our young and relatively exuberant government, the wheels of justice do not roll quite so quickly. He was evidently executed by his own accomplices.”

Jasmine’s stomach contracted. The ambassador had
other
accomplices?

“We will, however, see that Zannen is appropriately censured before this watch ends,” Shauss finished. “You may rest assured that he will no longer be a nuisance to you.”

Thank you
didn’t seem like quite the right thing to say, so she just nodded.

He stared at her long enough to make painful heat rise in her cheeks before he and Tiber bowed and then left her alone with Monica.

* * * * *

“Lieutenant Zannen, report to Tactical Three.”

After a pause, Zannen replied,
“Yes, Sir.”

Shauss strode toward the tranlift, every nerve ending abuzz, every muscle tense. He really should wait and let Kellen handle the ass chewing, but he just couldn’t rest until Zannen knew how very off-limits Jasmine King was to him and every other male on the ship. If he lost control and beat the attitude out of the bastard, so much the better—satisfaction like that was worth being stripped of his rank and spending a few months in detention.

She had kissed him. He still could hardly believe it. Granted, she’d done so in the throes of some bizarre dream in which she’d apparently expected him to decapitate her…but she’d kissed him.

He licked his lower lip. Had any mouth ever tasted as sweet? Holding Jasmine in his arms, inhaling the fresh vanilla cream of her skin and tonguing the sweet delicacy of her mouth, had sent his hormones into hyperdrive and suddenly he’d been rock-hard and ready to throw her to the floor and fuck her senseless.

Shauss shook himself. What had he been thinking to respond to her like that—especially in front of his mate and Tiber, of all people? What had
she
been thinking to kiss him like that?

The female was obviously dangerous and potentially deadly, and neither he nor Zannen nor any other Garathani needed to expose himself to that sort of risk. The sooner Zannen understood that, the better.

He stepped into the tranlift. “Command Deck.”

Tiber stepped in behind him. “Some fascinating history between you and Miss King, I gather?”

“Mind your own business for once, Doctor.”

“The mental well-being of the crew and passengers is my business, Lieutenant.”

“My mental well-being is no more a cause for your concern now than it has ever been,” Shauss said impatiently.

“I continue to have doubts about that,” Tiber disagreed, “but right now it’s Miss King’s well-being I’m concerned with.”

Shauss frowned, keeping his eyes firmly on the doors. Tiber had been a pain in his proverbial posterior for more years than he cared to remember. During his military intake physical, the doctor had tried unsuccessfully to ferret out the details of his parents’ deaths and noted Shauss’ lack of cooperation in his reports. As far as Shauss knew, that hadn’t affected his career adversely, but then a murky psychological history could almost be considered a requirement in the line of specialization he’d eventually chosen.

Over the years, he’d endured the required annual psychological examinations and managed to stymie Tiber’s every attempt to quantify him. Perhaps it was an assassin’s natural paranoia, but he could swear Tiber had made understanding
him
his personal crusade—a crusade that Shauss was determined to see fail.

He’d imagined that being reassigned as Kellen’s first lieutenant would mean an end to his annual torture sessions with the inquisitive psychological officer, and it had—until this assignment. Now, instead of suffering once a year, he was the victim of spontaneous encounters and casual quizzes at every turn.

Most recently, Tiber had been appointed by Minister Cecine to advise Shauss following his decision to annul the original bond with Kellen and Monica—after all, what male in his right mind would voluntarily sever ties with the minister’s daughter and the commander of the
Heptoral
? Pride was of paramount importance to all Garathani males but few would let it stand in the way of such an advantageous alliance.

After hours of intensive questioning, Tiber had reluctantly conceded that Shauss might be one of those few. Shauss had hoped that rebonding with his mates would set the counselor at ease, but if anything, Tiber seemed even more puzzled and skeptical.