Read Rystani Warrior 04 - The Quest Online
Authors: Susan Kearney
Rystani Warrior 04 - The Quest (12 page)
Enforced nudity brought back flashes he’d hoped to repress forever.
During a mission to Endeki, as a hostage he’d had to remain naked, available to any woman who wanted him as a plaything. Kept as an Endekian woman’s sexual play toy, he’d been used and whipped. At the time, he’d born the pain, refusing to activate his psi to protect himself in order to keep her unaware of his special abilities that allowed him to carry out his mission to spy on the household. But choosing not to activate his psi was a different matter from not having the choice. At any time on Endeki he could have ended his mission, so even though he had been living in the heart of enemy territory, he hadn’t felt as exposed as he did right now.
“Are you all right?” Concern filled Angel’s tone. As if sensing his distress, the moment the jump into hyperspace ended, she released him from her arms.
He forced open his eyes. Saw he was clothed and drew in a deep breath of air. Obviously, she must have adjusted his suit to an automatic setting—like she had for her pet, Lion. Disgusted by how much the loss of his psi affected how he thought of himself, Kirek nodded. “If I’d known losing my psi would cause you to take me into your arms, I’d have lost it sooner,” he jested.
“Why are you joking about something so serious?”
He shrugged. “I will heal. I always do.”
He felt Angel steady his suit as if she feared he was about to topple over. Damn it. He had muscles. He didn’t need her to keep him upright. At the moment, he should have been grateful to Tessa for forcing him to go beyond normal Rystani training. Since she’d been born on Earth in a time where Terrans didn’t have suits, she’d insisted her family learn to fight without their psi. Because Kirek respected her, he’d obeyed her wishes. So even as anger flooded him, he was far from helpless. He had muscle skills—lots of them.
However, like any man going into battle, he wished he could be fully armed with both muscle and psi. He was on the most important mission of his life.
But he would find a way to cope. While he hadn’t expected it to be so difficult, he also had never planned to have someone like Angel at his side.
He would look at this setback as a
…
test. A test of patience, of willpower, and of intelligence. Then he could move beyond the loss.
“How long will it take you to heal?” She gazed at him, her eyes steady and sharing strength. If he’d seen a trace of repugnance in her expression, he might not have answered. That he was willing to share showed him that her opinion mattered to him, more than he’d thought possible.
“That might depend on you.” He made his voice confident.
“Me?”
“Lovemaking is supposed to help the psi heal.”
She rolled her eyes at the ceiling, but he caught a sparkle of interest. “Obviously you aren’t too badly hurt. You still seem to have only one thing on your mind.”
“Do you know how good your skin feels against mine?” He answered a question she thought rhetorical. “It’s smooth as
siltie
silk, softer than
collez
cotton, and intoxicates like Debubian brandy.”
“Now is not the time—”
“And your scent. Your hair always has a citrus scent that reminds me of Rystani
esby
berries, and your female scent teases with hints of cinnabar.”
She snorted, but her mouth curled in a pleased smile. “Some men will say anything to seduce a girl.”
“You think I would say anything to
seduce
you?” He shook his head, wanting to be very clear that he was after so much more. Right now, without a shred of psi, he wanted her. He suspected that when he healed, he would want her all the more. The challenge to convince her had already begun, and like any goal he set for himself, he was not about to give up until he got what he wanted. “It’s not just your body I’m interested in.”
“Too bad.” She fisted one hand on a cocked hip, her eyes honest, her expression sassy and confident. “Because my body is all I will offer you.”
And what a body—she was pleasing to him in shape. He recalled her bountiful breasts, her nipped-in waist, her long legs. But it was the boldness in her heart that attracted him most.
He grinned, knowing full well that she meant every word—that she was willing to share only her body. For now, he would take what she would give.
Kirek enjoyed letting her know how much he wanted her. “Then we really should retire to your—”
“I’m all for lovemaking at the appropriate time.”
His pulse skyrocketed at her brazen words. A Rystani woman would never declare her intentions so boldly, but Angel had told him what he wanted to hear.
He leaned forward and kissed her, his sudden move taking her by surprise. Her lips parted immediately, though, and she pressed herself against him. Ah, she fit perfectly against him. He caressed her back, trailing his fingers up and down her spine.
He wasn’t surprised that after heating him up, after his blood simmered and his heart warmed, she pulled away.
Eyes dilated, slightly breathless, she still managed to harden her tone. “You need to remember that when this mission is over, I will go my way, and you will go yours.” Then she totally changed the subject. “How good are you with a blaster?”
“Worse than average.” He tamped down his desire and focused on the mission. During fights, he’d always depended on his psi. His hand-to-hand skills were a fallback, and he hated using a weapon—so he didn’t practice shooting often enough to have much skill with a blaster.
“If you’re going to be my bodyguard, you should put in some time at target practice.”
He nodded. “Good idea.” With the idea of honing his skill, his determination renewed. If Tessa had lived over half her life without psi, he could certainly manage. He refrained from dwelling too closely on the fact that Tessa had lived in a world where no one else had psi, either. Instead he preferred to think about making love to Angel. She’d certainly responded to him, when his psi was healed and when it wasn’t, and that pleased him.
Kirek’s past had included women who’d wanted to make love to him—but he’d never known if they were attracted to his power, or to
him.
With Angel, after sharing that searing kiss, he had no doubts.
EXHAUSTED, KIREK took over the now empty cabin where the ball of chain had once been stored. Before he could rest, he sent several encrypted messages to Dakmar. The first went to the bank to ensure his previous transfer of funds awaited him as requested. The second message went to see if the equipment he’d sent ahead had arrived. The third was to find out if his contact had arrived—he hadn’t. The fourth was to arrange for a place where he and Angel could share some private time.
Never had Kirek needed sleep so badly. But after he closed his eyes, he couldn’t find a comfortable position. All his life Kirek had used his psi to sleep on a cushion of air. But now he rested on his back, his shoulder blades and hip bones in full contact with the hard deck. Thinking about Angel didn’t help. He couldn’t help wishing she was with him now and that he didn’t have to always put the mission first.
He should be thinking about how he was going to pose as a psi-less bodyguard, about how he would meet his contact who possessed the portal coordinates that would take them to the Zin. Apparently, his contact traveled regularly to the moon and had no difficulty getting in, and he’d offered to help Kirek. But Kirek refused—the less people who knew about his disguise the better. While accomplishing his objective came first, his thoughts nevertheless drifted to Angel. Her soft skin. Her hot kisses. Her brazen heat and the enigma of her vulnerabilities.
He suspected the scars from her failed marriages ran deep, and while the surface wounds had healed, her prickly behavior warned him that she still bled. Yet, she lived with a courage that drew him. He liked her independent spirit. He liked the way she pretended to make decisions based on logic and facts when she was clearly such a creature of instinct.
He warned himself not to let his fascination with Angel get them both killed. Some time between dreaming about holding her in his arms again and fantasizing about exploring her breasts with his tongue and driving her into a frenzy of need, he fell asleep.
He awakened with a groan, every muscle in his body stiff from sleeping on the deck during the ship’s exit from hyperspace. Shoving to his feet, he ignored the painful prickles caused by blood recirculation into areas that had gone numb. Peering out the porthole, he took in his first glimpse of Dakmar. The moon loomed bright reddish-silver. Alien ships in a variety of sizes—from one-man shuttles to huge passenger liners—landed, departed, and docked in bays. Satellite buoys marked space lanes for the traffic.
From their position, it appeared they were in orbit waiting in line for the dock master to assign them a slot. Kirek stretched the kink from his neck, but his back and torso remained stiff. Since the
Raven
was in a holding pattern, he would use his free time to limber up for his bodyguard role, ease his sore muscles, and practice with the blaster.
In the empty dining area that doubled as an exercise room, he began with simple stretches and twisting motions. Kirek rotated and extended his limbs and torso slowly, taking care to flex all his joints before proceeding to
kata—
an
ancient
series of exact movements that martial artists on Earth had used to fight imaginary opponents before psi powers had been developed. Tessa had taught him
kata
as a
boy. But he hadn’t practiced for years, instead preferring to work out with sophisticated bots that moved at the speed of thought.
However, the
Raven
didn’t come equipped with such luxuries—maybe a good thing, considering his condition. The bots expected an individual to have rudimentary psi, and he wasn’t certain they could be programmed to match his sluggish pace. Although his head no longer ached from the blowout, his temples remained tender, a serious reminder of the loss of his psi and a warning not to try to find it again so soon.
Kirek’s recollections of the childhood exercises might be rusty, but his muscle memory took over, and the skill returned. But now he had the power and focus of a full-grown warrior. Finding his balance, he began to move with more and more confidence, appreciating the beauty of the punches, spins, and jabs that had evolved in two dimensions, before psi made it possible to levitate into the air with null grav. The simple, efficient, and economical combinations could be deadly when performed correctly or if an opponent with psi could be taken unawares.
After fifteen Federation minutes, Kirek’s skin was coated in a light sweat, and by thirty, his muscles had warmed up, and he’d left his former aches behind. He furrowed his brow in concentration, Tessa’s instructions drilled into his head as if she’d said them yesterday.
“The mind is the engine that drives the hands and feet.”
He kicked, he elbowed, he performed a series of blocks and followed through with a combination that struck at pressure points meant to stun, then delivered a quiet imaginary death blow. Movement caused him to jerk his eyes to the portal.
Angel stood there, a heated look in her eyes which were outlined with dark liner and green sparkles in a diamond shape that rose partway up her forehead and down over her cheeks. Her lips were colored in a soft berry color lined in a darker red, making them look even more lush than usual. “You have some interesting moves.”
“And you’re wearing an interesting outfit.” He should have been upset that he hadn’t noticed her presence sooner. So much for his supposedly keen powers of observation, but he promptly forgot his concern as he stared.
She wore her psi-suit in a provocative leather that emphasized her chest and narrow waist and long legs. Twin
bendar
blasters that looked fully functional hung from holsters suspended from a shiny silver belt.
Flashy earrings dangled down to her neck and matching stones shimmered in her hair, which she’d swept atop her head. Several locks had escaped and artfully curled over one eye. Armbands encrusted with gleaming crystals entwined her toned forearms. Through the cutouts that allowed him to view her cleavage, flashing green glitter dusted her flesh, creating enticing shadows that danced over her skin. She taunted him with every breath.
She shrugged as if she didn’t know she was dressed for seduction. “To be taken seriously on Dakmar, frosting is necessary.”
“Frosting?”
“Sparkle. Bling. A show of wealth.”
She intended to walk around in public dressed like that? Disappointment that she hadn’t fixed herself for him warred with possessiveness he had no right to feel. But stars, he didn’t want other men to see her on display. He swallowed hard. “Protecting you just became twice as difficult.”
“Why?” Her eyes widened as if she had no notion of how provocatively she’d dressed.
“No man could possibly look at you and not want you.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
His tone hardened. “It wasn’t a compliment. We don’t need a fight over you.”
“On Dakmar, a man can buy a willing woman. There’s no need for one to attempt—”
“Men often want what they can’t have.”
Her hands went to her blasters at her hips. “I have these.”
“Keeping a low profile is preferable to shooting—”
“A low profile is not an option on Dakmar.”
He bristled. Knowing that she was likely following the local customs didn’t prevent his annoyance. Not only would she attract trouble, but Kirek would be distracted. He wouldn’t be male if he weren’t.
The cutouts at her chest alone could drive a man mad. But her sassy attitude combined with that sleek black leather made his heart pound. His palms itched to touch, to run his hands over her. Right now he wanted nothing more than to strip her slowly, then have her right there, up against the wall.
He used superhuman control and still barely kept his irritation in check. However, without his psi control over his suit, he had to turn toward the portal so she wouldn’t see the growing bulge between his legs as his
tavis
grew erect.
Angry at his loss of control, he snapped his next words. “We’re entering a criminal sanctuary. You’ll become a target.”
Angel rolled her eyes. “On Dakmar, the weak are targeted. Wealth shows that I have the power to protect what is mine.” She wriggled her fingers in the air to show off several rings, and the leather stretched across her chest, the peephole widening to show additional cleavage. “These are glorious fakes. I have better things to do than spend my credits on genuine frosting.” She glared at him and changed the subject. “Besides, the only enemies I have here are your enemies.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Kraj ship just docked.”
It was a measure of how much psi he’d lost that he’d temporarily forgotten about the Kraj. The lapse could not happen again—no matter what Angel chose to wear
…
or not wear. “I’d planned to get a feel for Dakmar before my contact arrives, but if we can wait to insert and then extract quickly—”
“We can’t. First off, we must sell the salvage. Second, I need to order parts for the
Raven’s
repairs—and until the mechanics tear her down, I won’t even know what we need.”
“How long do you intend to stay?” he asked, keeping his tone casual, pleased that his
tavis
was back under control for now, but worrying how the Kraj had found them and exactly what they knew about his mission. Perhaps he could find time to spy or pay for some intel.
“We’ll stay in port long enough to complete the engine overhaul and bring supplies on board. The good part about Dakmar is that they are quick and efficient. Everything I need is here, including the best mechanics in the Federation.”
“What’s the bad part?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Prices are outrageous.” She looked over his suit then altered his automatic setting. “You must be dressed properly, too.”
In the blink of an eye she changed his suit. His shirt no longer had sleeves. A large V cutout revealed his chest, and instead of the plain matte material he normally wore, she’d turned the fabric to shiny black. His pants hung low on his hips but allowed plenty of freedom to move. She handed him a heavy satchel filled with “frosting,” and he chose from a wide assortment, picking out matching silver armbands and clasping them over his biceps.
“Nice.” With appreciation, he slid a set of four connected rings over his fingers. When he clenched his fist, the heft turned his knuckles into a solid weapon. “Where did you acquire all this paraphernalia?”
“If you hadn’t shown up, I’d have hired a bodyguard. He would wear my emblems.” Relieved that the armor didn’t belong to one of her former husbands, he searched through his choices. “Each piece has the
Raven
logo stamped into the metal. While you wear these items, Dakmar’s citizens will know you ship out with me and that I vouch for you.”
He jerked his eyes from the frosting to her. “What does that mean? That you vouch for me?”
“It means you must behave according to Dakmar customs.”
“If I don’t?”
“
I
won’t be welcome here anymore. The next time I try to dock, they’ll simply shoot me out of space.”
Obviously, she was risking a port and contacts, perhaps her life, by bringing him here. He’d try not to ruin it for her. “So what are the rules?”
“Don’t piss off the people in power.”
He would have preferred she didn’t use coarse language, but now when she was risking so much for him didn’t seem the time to voice his objections. “So I will recognize those in power by their frosting?”
“You catch on quick.”
“What offends them?”
“Looking them in the eye. Not looking them in the eye.”
“What?” He frowned at her, searching to see if she was jesting.
“Being rude or being courteous can cause difficulties. Asking questions. Asking the wrong questions. Not paying attention. Paying too much attention.” When he cocked his head, obviously puzzled by her contradictory instructions, she spoke plainly. “Dakmar isn’t like other places with written laws. It’s more like a jungle. You have to go with your gut.”
