Fugitive (17 page)

   But Drusilla seemed to be different in that respect.

She hadn't treated him like someone to be avoided; in fact, she'd made him promise to stay with her. But did she know what that meant?

   "If I promise not to touch your right side," Manx began, "d'you think we could…?"

   "Oh,
yeah,"
Drusilla sighed.

   Manx felt a thrill shoot through him that momentarily robbed him not only of speech, but also the necessary brainpower to move.

   "If you can, that is," Drusilla went on smoothly. "You already did it once tonight. I've heard that excuse before."

   Manx searched his memory, trying to sort out what she could possibly mean by that and finally gave up. "What?"

   "It hasn't been that long ago," she reminded him. "How much recovery time do you need?"

   "Recovery time?" Manx was completely bewildered.

   "Oh, you know—before you can, um, ejaculate again."

   Frowning slightly, Manx said, "Well, I haven't done it for a while, but I don't remember there ever being a time when I couldn't—that is, if the woman still wanted me."

   "Oh, wow," Drusilla breathed. "You mean I can have all I want? I've never gotten all I wanted—of anything."

   "Just tell me when to stop," Manx replied, suddenly feeling much more cheerful.

   "Ohhhh," Drusilla breathed. "This is going to be
so wonderful… "

   Manx purred loudly and dipped his head down to nibble on the soft, downy skin of her breast, not sure he could hold off from mating with her much longer. His nose told him otherwise, but his head told him that she might not be ready for him yet. He had to take his time; not rush her or force her. Nothing to make this anything less than perfect for her… just for
her…

   Drusilla took the opportunity to thread her fingers through Manx's long, wavy hair. "I love your hair," she murmured. "It's funny, but before yesterday, I'd have said that long hair on a man wasn't a requirement, but now…"

   "I'm becoming very fond of
red
hair, myself," Manx said agreeably. "Never thought that was a requirement either." He could have added every other detail, however minute, about Drusilla to that list. From her sparkling green eyes to her sweet smile with that one, slightly crooked front tooth…

   Every part of her tasted like love. His lips roamed lower on her chest, and though he knew the ointment would heal her wounds more quickly than his own saliva, he wanted to lick them anyway—anything to let her know just how much he cared for her welfare, and just how badly he felt for letting her be injured in the first place. The gentle touch of her hands led him to believe she didn't hold a grudge, but even so, he wished her nothing but bliss.

   And Manx knew he could give it to her, perhaps better than anyone else she would ever meet. Zetithian males had made other men murderously envious because of that ability—but he wasn't thinking about that; he was thinking about here and now, and this woman who stirred him in ways that no other had done—the one who made him want to cherish her and fill her with delight until the end of his days. Just why a virtual stranger would evoke such a desire in him, Manx couldn't explain, and he didn't really want to at the time; he simply knew that she was the one he'd been looking for, had been waiting for all his life, and this was the moment to bind her to him forever.

   There was an easy way to do that; he could simply take her now and let his body do what it did best, delving inside a woman and filling her with the cream from his cock, letting it work its orgasmic magic on her. That method was swift and sure, but Manx took his time, lingering over her, giving her the chance to want him enough to plead with him to give her more. Then, and only then, would he give her all he had. Still kissing her lovely skin, he reached the curls at the apex of her thighs and allowed himself one taste of her—but that one taste was nearly his undoing.

   His purr was deep and resonant, and as soft sighs escaped her, Manx licked his way back up to her lovely breasts, taking his time and lazily suckling her hard nipples. His hands began a gentle massage and it pleased him to feel her body relaxing completely; he liked the idea that she trusted him and was comfortable with his touch. His mouth drifted on toward her neck, her cheek, and then back to her earlobe; he was purring as he went, delighting in the taste and feel of her. Her breathing became slow and deep, and when he reached her lips at last, they were completely still. She was asleep.

   "Well, she did say she was tired," he muttered. "Guess that's what I get for taking things slowly."

   Manx toyed with the idea of waking her, but decided against it. She'd been badly injured and he should have known better than to try it so soon—but she'd said yes, and she smelled like heaven. She wouldn't change her mind. He could wait—just not forever. Besides, he needed sleep himself. It would help to heal his wounds, and hers would be better in the morning too.

   Sighing with regret, he turned away from her to avoid

her scent so his erection would diminish, but still, it was a very long night.

***

The band of Nedwut bounty hunters who had released the wildcat on Barada Seven might have had some pithy comments to make about Manx's plans for the future if they'd known anything about them, for, in their minds, he was already as good as dead. They'd used the same ploy many times before when tracking someone—send a vicious animal down in an escape pod and then offer to hunt it down, for a price. Of course, the cat wasn't the only thing they hunted—though it
did
provide them with good sport—and they'd collected several bounties in that manner but had never managed to bag a Zetithian. The one they were now seeking was far more cunning and elusive than their usual quarry—and they'd gone to a great deal of trouble trying to catch him. If it weren't for the higher bounty, they might have given it up, but the prospect of collecting five million credits made the chase worthwhile.

   Their leader, Klarkunk, knew that they only had to give the wildcat a little more time to wreak havoc on the pitiful locals, and then, when they made their offer, the weak, defenseless Baradans would welcome them with open arms. They would make a big show of hunting it down, all the while searching for their primary target. Klarkunk was sure they would find him this time. The Baradans had no weapons to stop them, and the Zetithian would be theirs for the taking.

***

While en route to Barada Seven, Jack and her shipmates were trying to decide on the best methods of locating one man on a planet covered largely by dense rainforest. Thus far, they had come up with very few workable ideas and even had the children in on the brainstorming.

   "Scanners," Tisana suggested. "We could just scan the planet for him and pick him up."

   Jack smiled grimly. "There are two problems with that. One, the
Jolly Roger
isn't equipped with scanners, and two, a retrofit would take too long. The Nedwuts are looking for him too, and you know they aren't wasting any time."

   "How about putting up a sign again," Jack's son, Larry, suggested. "It worked before."

   It sounded like a good idea, but Jack shook her head. "Remember what Barada is like. There are no large, industrial cities, only small villages where the natives live a very simple life. They don't have the technology to send out a planet-wide bulletin like we did on Serillia."

   "And Manx was not the one we were trying to find there," said Leo. "We were looking for information only. He would have seen the advertisement as a trap."

   "As I recall from our last visit, Barada has only one spaceport," said Cat. "He is likely to be living nearby."

   Leo shook his head. "He's also had a year to move on," he pointed out. "And Manx would be able to provide for himself in the jungle."

   "No weapons allowed, either," Jack muttered. "I really hate that."

   "Puts us all on an even footing, though," Tisana said helpfully.

   "Yeah, everyone but you," Jack said. "With your powers, they might not even let you land."

   "Well, as long as nobody goes blabbing to the authori ties," Tisana shot back, "they won't know about them, will they?"

   Jack felt momentarily chastened, knowing that while Tisana preferred to keep her abilities quiet, Jack, unfortunately, had a tendency to brag about the witch's powers to the wrong people.

   "Speaking of authorities," Tisana went on, "why don't we just ask them if they know anything about Manx?"

   "We can try it, but Manx tried to live a normal life on Serillia, and the Nedwuts found him," Cat said. "He has probably gone into hiding."

   "So do we hunt for him, then?" Larry said eagerly.

   "It's a big planet," Jack reminded her son. "And like Leo said, he's had a year to disappear. He could be anywhere."

   "We should still search the area near the spaceport," Larry insisted. "A ten kilometer radius, at least."

   "Yes, but that takes time, and searching a jungle is even harder than it sounds," said Jack. "He could be two meters away and you'd never see him."

   "He's also elusive and very stealthy," Leo said. "He was the best man for getting close to the enemy, plus, he had the best aim with a pulse pistol of anyone I've ever seen."

   "Whew!" Jack exclaimed. "This guy is going to be tougher to corral than I thought!"

   "What about luring him, then?" Larry suggested. "You know, use something for bait. Something he wouldn't think was a trap."

   "Too bad we don't have a Zetithian female," Jack chuckled. "—aside from your daughter, Althea, of course," she said to Tisana.
"That
would get him."

   "Hmm," Tisana said, her eyes narrowing. "Good nose you say?"

   "Amazingly good," Cat replied.

   Tisana smiled secretively. "I
might
have an idea…"

Chapter 11

WHEN DRUSILLA AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING, STIFF AND SORE, it took her a moment to remember why she felt that way. Then the events of the previous night came flooding back, helped along by the warm, solid presence of Manx in bed beside her. No, it hadn't been a dream, he was still there. She could hear him breathing.

   Sitting up, she tried to remember what had happened. Manx had been kissing her, and she blushed furiously as she recalled some of the places he'd kissed. But then, nothing. Did sex with a Zetithian give you amnesia? Was it so good—or so bad—that it rendered a woman sense less? Had her mind blocked it out as something she'd prefer to forget? As she gazed at his sleeping form, she knew that making love with Manx was something she didn't ever want to forget.

   He was lying on his stomach with his arms wrapped around his pillow and his hair lying in tangled spirals down his back. The sheet was draped across him, stop ping just below his waist, and the soft morning light cast shadows in the deep contours of his body. As her eyes drank in the sheer masculine beauty of him, Drusilla was reminded of an old fairy tale about a lonely maiden who went to sleep with a frog and awakened to find a prince lying with her.

   Except that Manx had never remotely resembled a frog—a cat, perhaps, but certainly not a frog. With her luck, she wouldn't have been a bit surprised to find that, rather than remaining the stunningly sexy man that he was, he'd turned into a toad while she slept.

   Slept? Drusilla let out a tortured groan as she real ized that no, he hadn't knocked her out with his sexual prowess; she'd simply fallen asleep on him. Other than a flat-out refusal, she couldn't imagine a worse insult to the male ego than conking out while he was doing his best to arouse her deeper passions, unless it was laughing at him. "Must have been all the purring making me sleepy," she muttered. "And I did tell him I was tired." Actually, exhausted might have been a better word. That she'd stayed awake during their brief conversation was surprising enough, but he'd gotten her so relaxed afterwards, anyone could have predicted the end result.

   Still, it was embarrassing. Glancing around, she noted that Klog, bless his heart, had already washed and repaired her robe, which now hung from the bedpost. Moving carefully so as not to awaken Manx, Drusilla pushed back the covers and began inching her way to the edge of the bed.

   Manx's hand shot out and immediately began searching the place where she'd been.

   "Sorry," she said softly. "I was trying not to wake you."

   "Don't worry about me," he said. "How did you sleep?"

   "Like a rock," she replied, cautiously slipping her right arm into her robe. Clearing her throat self-consciously, she added, "I'm sorry about that too."

   As Manx sat up and combed back his hair with his fingers, Drusilla nearly had an orgasm just from watching him. "Don't be," he said. "I knew you were tired, I just couldn't resist." Looking up at her with his glowing green eyes, he added, "I feel as though I've been trying to get close to you for years, rather than days. I should have waited."

   Drusilla smiled. "Did you hear anyone telling you to stop? I might have said I was tired, but, believe me, I was just as much to blame as you were."

   Something in what she'd said must have disturbed him because his gaze dropped from hers to become suddenly fascinated with the sheet.

   "Not that I'm blaming you," she said quickly. "It's just that… I mean, I'd only just met you and—"

   Manx held up a hand. "I know what you're going to say. You don't know me at all. I'm just some strange man who's been lurking in the jungle, making you nervous, and watching you through windows."

   "I wasn't going to say that," she said. "I just don't want you to think I'm the kind of woman who doesn't take these things seriously, because I do." She paused there as she remembered some of the men she'd dated. Some she'd slept with right away; with others, she'd put it off—mainly because she knew it would be disappointing. If the previous night was any indica tion, making love with Manx would be anything but disappointing—and it was also something she wanted to engage in when she felt more up to it. It seemed more important than it ever had before, as if she knew it would be the start of something momentous and life-altering, and she wanted everything to be perfect. "I was in bed, fantasizing about you, when you knocked on the door. Then that horrid beast—" She broke off for a moment, shuddering at the memory. "Having it attack me was bad enough, but when it went after you, I—" Drusilla broke off there as her eyes filled with tears.