Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series (17 page)

Brax made another sound of disgust, then flung up a hand in dismissal. “She’s all yours, Makk. I’m going to check on that ship.”

Brax stalked out the exit.

Makkon took hold of Tamryn’s forearm, his touch light, gentle. “Let’s put you back with your buddy, hm? You can get some sleep.”

“Sleep?” No, sleep wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to be with him. Alone. Why? Because then they could kiss. That would be nice. No, that wasn’t it. She had a plan. Yes, she remembered now. She almost touched the knife in her pocket, but caught herself. She didn’t want to draw his attention to it. “I’d rather talk to you.” She smiled up again, hoping he wanted to talk too.

“Oh? Something else you want to share?”

“Something to share. Yes.” She giggled. The noise almost startled her. She never giggled. Not unless she was drunk.

He hesitated.

“May I talk to you? Alone? I’ll offer you a deal.” She added that in a fit of inspiration, though she wasn’t sure what that deal would be. “And tell you my secret.”

His eyes sharpened. “That wasn’t it? That bit about your brother.”

“My brother is only part of my secret.” What was she doing? She hadn’t meant to talk about her family, other than to hint that she might have a contact on that ship out there. What was its name? She couldn’t remember.

“All right.” He licked his lips. He almost looked nervous. Because of her?

He led her toward the door, but frowned down at her legs when she hobbled after him at a slow pace. The ropes around her ankles limited the length of the steps she could take. He drew a dagger, bent down, and sliced them. He paused, then sliced the ropes between her wrists too.

“Much better.” She beamed another smile at him. Why couldn’t she stop doing that? He wasn’t smiling back yet. That was a shame. He would be even more handsome if he smiled.

“Perhaps,” he said and led her into the corridor.

It was brighter outside, and she blinked after the dim lighting of the lounge. This wasn’t a very intimate place. Too harsh. Too stark.

“My room would be better,” she found herself saying. That hadn’t been the plan, but if he went for it, she had guns in there. Better knives. An anti-armor assault rifle. Even with his fast reflexes, he would have trouble dodging out of the strike zone with that baby.

“Better for what?” Makkon asked warily.

She stood on her tiptoes and leaned against his chest. Under normal circumstances, she would have been scared to presume so much, to get this close in case he decided not to let her go, but she couldn’t find her inhibitions now. All of her thoughts of guns and knives fled her mind, and all she could think about was kissing him. His face was guarded, nothing of invitation on it, but she touched her lips to his, certain he wouldn’t reject her. It was supposed to be a quick kiss, a promise of more, but she lingered, enjoying the warmth of his chest against hers, the taste of his lips, of
him
.

At first, he did not react, but then she felt his arm slide around her back. His mouth opened, drawing her in, tasting her back. Gently, warmly, not like a plundering pirate but like a friend, a lover, someone who cared. The urge to wriggle closer came over her, to wrap herself around him, to feel his lean hardness pressed into her body.

A vague memory nudged the back of her mind. Wasn’t she supposed to be trying to do something? Accomplishing some mission? And hadn’t he asked a question?

Tamryn broke the kiss, lowering herself to the flats of her feet. She didn’t try to scoot back, instead keeping her breasts against his chest. Not that she could have escaped with his arm locked around her back.

“Secrets,” she whispered.

“What?” He blinked a couple of times, almost as if he were the one trying to surface from some drug-induced haze.

“You asked about my room, what it’s better for.” She smiled and lifted a hand to stroke the side of his face, to trace the dragon’s tail of his tattoo with her thumb. He had shaved when he had cleaned up, leaving all of his handsome angular lines on display. “It’s better for sharing secrets.”

Makkon stood still, his face twisting as he seemed to wrestle with himself. She waited for him to point out the obvious, that the corridor was empty and that there was no reason she couldn’t spill her secrets right here.

“How many guns are there?” Makkon asked, his tone going dry. Had he guessed her plan? That she wasn’t fully under the influence of the drug?

“Three,” she answered promptly, figuring he would see through it if she lied. More, he would know his truth serum wasn’t working. “A bow too. And a blowgun from the Drovokian Steppes. It was a gift from the natives. Do you want to see it?” All right, maybe the serum was working somewhat. That babbling was all the drug.

He still had his arm around her, and he rubbed her through her shirt as he gazed into her eyes. Tamryn made herself gaze back without artifice. Anything less, and he would suspect her motives.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I do.”

“Good.” She kissed him again, having to remind herself not to linger, then nodded in the direction of the lift. “This way.”

He lowered his arm so she could walk, but he stayed close to her side and hooked his thumb into her belt. Possessively? As a gesture to remind her that he wasn’t going to let her escape? Either way, his fingers rubbed her waist as they walked, and she didn’t mind his presence so close. An effect of the drug, no doubt. It didn’t matter. She was still going to kill him, get her tablet back, comm that other ship, and tell them everything.

Chapter 11

This was a bad idea.

The thought kept trotting through Makkon’s head as he walked beside Tamryn, heading to her quarters—or wherever it was she was taking him. He’d slid the needle into her vein and knew she was drugged—those smiles she kept sending him would have demonstrated that even if he’d been less certain—but she had a strong mind, and he wasn’t positive she was as fully under the influence of the concoction as she pretended to be. But it seemed to have hold of her enough that she’d stopped seeing him as an enemy and instead wanted to share secrets with him. In her room. While kissing.

The first touch of her lips had aroused him, and he couldn’t stop thoughts of sex from rushing through his head—and through his heated body—as they walked. But to have sex with her while her mind was fuzzed with chemicals wasn’t acceptable. He was only going with her to see if she might share more information. And because he couldn’t help but be curious to see her quarters, a hint of her personal life, her passions, the things she would never share with an enemy. They wouldn’t do anything there, and he wouldn’t touch her, no matter how much he wanted to. She would remember it later and hate him for taking advantage of her when she wasn’t herself—and rightfully so. She would probably remember that he’d walked her to her room with his arm around her waist, and if he let himself cup her ass, as he so much wanted to, she would remember that too. Having her so close, her womanly scent teasing his nostrils, made it hard to resist her, and his idle hands wanted to explore.

Makkon sighed at his thoughts and lowered his hands as they stepped out of the lift. She led him down a dead-end corridor and stopped in front of a door. It slid aside, and she strolled in.

He watched her, half expecting her to lunge for a weapon. Drug or not, she’d more than once proven she wasn’t some meek prisoner who would give in easily.

Tamryn merely turned on a rug in the center of the room, smiled, and spread her arms. “This is it.”

The space smelled of her—her shampoo and the distinct scent of her pheromones—and also of some flower he had never smelled before, its fragrance mingling with a chemical cleaning detergent. He spotted the weapons mounted on the wall above the bed immediately; two sleek laser rifles, both civilian models, and a pellet-firing shotgun. She could have sat up in bed in the middle of the night and grabbed any of them, or the bow and quiver of arrows above the headboard. However impractical such a weapon might be on a space station, he smiled, feeling a twinge of nostalgia. It was probably some sport toy for her, but he had learned to hunt with something similar. A blowgun, little more than a primitive bamboo shaft with a quiver of darts, was mounted above the bow. His gaze drifted to the bed itself. It was clearly designed for one person, but it looked comfortable and inviting with a rich green comforter and a couple of plush pillows. He could easily see pressing her back onto it, resting her head on those pillows and kissing her senseless as he slid atop her.

Except we’re not doing that, right?
the voice in the back of his mind asked.

Right.

He forced himself to look elsewhere. It seemed a standard military room, and the rest of the furnishings, a dresser, a desk, and chair, were simple built-ins devoid of personality, but numerous pictures, some in digital frames and others on actual paper, dotted the walls above them. They were all of people standing and posing for the camera, some in uniform and some in civilian clothes, their ages ranging from children to white-haired men in hover chairs. Her family, he assumed, judging by the resemblances. In one of the pictures, she was about twelve and stood with a gray-haired man who had an arm around her shoulder. She wore a huge grin while gripping a bow in one hand, and in the other six pheasants tied by the legs. Another man stood next to them with a trophy to present.

“You hunt?” Makkon asked. It was a stupid question, since the picture clearly indicated she did, or at least had when she had been younger.

She pulled her gaze from him and toward the picture. He realized she had been watching him while he inspected the room. Waiting to see what he thought of her quarters? Or studying him for some reason? The weapons on the walls were at her back, and he hadn’t caught her giving them speculative looks yet.

“I haven’t much since I went away for school,” Tamryn said, “but I used to go on trips with my father and grandfather every summer. None of my brothers found it interesting, which I think disappointed Da and Grandda. The boys all preferred computers and games and flying to being out in the woods and shooting, but I had a knack for it and won a bunch of trophies as a kid. It was fun, but mostly I liked that I got my da to myself on those trips and that we had fun adventures. He was a Fleet officer until a few years ago, stationed on ships, so he wasn’t around the house much when we were growing up. And we hardly ever saw Grandda. When he was home, he talked business and marketing with my brothers. Despite having to take a bunch of classes, I had about this much interest in that subject.” She made a zero with her thumb and index finger. “But Grandda and Da both enjoyed hunting, so that was our common ground. When they were both home at the same time, and we got to go out, it was almost like a holiday. I...” She bit her lip, maybe realizing she was babbling. Yes, the drug would do that to a person.

Makkon was enjoying it, though, listening to her speak without the usual guarded reserve, having her look at him without the hatred and calculation in her eyes. It made his chest ache with longing. And frustration because he knew they could never be anything except enemies and because the drug would wear off soon, and she would remember that she hated him.

As if he’d needed more reasons to feel lust for her, it excited him to imagine her in the tunnels of Glaciem with him, stalking some animal side-by-side with their weapons in hand. They would take down their prey together, then he would wrap his arms around her, press her against the icy wall of the passage, and they could celebrate their victory with an unleashing of carnal passions.

Makkon looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath, trying to calm his libido. His stupid cock was standing to attention like a rifle ready to fire. Nothing could happen here. He should take her back.

He was aware of her stepping closer to him, but he didn’t look down, afraid he would lose control, grab her, and thrust her against the wall—or down onto that bed—if he met her eyes, looked at her smiling face. It was the smile that threatened to undo him. Before, she had been beautiful, but it had been a distant I’d-kill-you-if-I-could beauty. The warmth changed it, made her face ten times more appealing. Not to mention the memory of her kiss, the eagerness it had held.

“Makkon,” she whispered, his name a caress on her lips.

“You can call me Makk,” he heard himself saying, as if from a distance.

“Makk.” She rested her hands on his hips.

He swallowed and looked down. “You mentioned secrets. Was there something else you wanted to tell me? Without anyone else hearing?”

“Something I wanted to show you.” Her smile grew almost impish, and another surge of heat flooded his groin. His vest was not tucked into his belt, and she slipped her hands underneath the material.

Tamryn backed him up against her desk, and he grew as still as a
pirashka
doe sensing a hunter’s approach. She slid her hands up his ribs, raising gooseflesh everywhere she touched. Alternating between massaging him and scraping her fingers over the peaks and valleys of his muscles, she stirred fire within him, fire so intense, it made his breath quicken and his heart hammer inside of his chest.

He wanted to grab her, let his hands explore
her
flesh, but he worried he would startle her away, make her stop. The last thing he wanted was for her to stop. Besides, if he did nothing, then she wouldn’t have a reason to be angry with him later, would she? He was simply standing here, letting her push his vest higher of her own accord, neither forcing her nor coercing her. So what if his cock was getting harder with every passing second and threatened to punch a hole through his trousers?

He knew that he was reasoning with his penis, not his mind, trying to justify being here, trying not to feel like an ass when he knew she was drugged and not acting of her own free will. He’d taken her station and killed her people; as much as he wanted her to come over to his side, to grow attached to him and become a sympathizer, he knew she hadn’t. As soon as the drug wore off—

Her warm, damp tongue rasped across his nipple, and he gasped, all conscious thoughts jolted from his mind. She chuckled deep within her throat as her mouth teased him delicately. What had he been thinking about? He couldn’t remember. She suckled him, and he inhaled quick breaths, desire mixing with pure pleasure as she tasted him. Her hands continued to roam, creating intriguing sensations wherever they traveled, but it was the licks and sucks of his nipples that shot jolts of electricity through him.