Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series) (19 page)

"Oh, yes, that's right. You're my personal
servant now, aren't you? My slave, I believe. Well, right now,
slave
, I just want you as far away from me as possible.
Preferably on a planet on the other side of the quadrant."

Obviously, his mood had not improved. "I'm
sorry I bothered you." She turned to go.

"Wait. You don't leave my presence until I
dismiss you. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Yes,
what
?"

Nessa bit her lip, not sure what he wanted
her to say. "Yes, captain?"

"No, no, no. A slave must do better than
that. I expect you to say `Yes, m
aster.
' Say it, slave."

She wondered fleetingly if he were drunk.
His voice didn't sound slurred. "
Say it!
"

She thought of the children, of her mission.
"Yes, master."

"Ah, but I do like the sound of that." He
took a drink from the bottle, then set it on the console. Wiping
his mouth with the back of his hand, he finally looked directly at
her. His eyes widened. "Where did you get that robe?"

His intense, predatory expression was
disconcerting. That, and the sight of his bare, muscular chest.
"Moriah sent it to me—"

With a thud, his booted feet hit the floor.
He swiveled the chair and faced her fully. "Take it off."

"What?"

"I said, take it off."

Nessa recognized the expression on his face.
He'd had it when he kissed her the first time, and when they mated.
Sabin had also mirrored that same expression when he looked at
Moriah. Panic and an odd excitement whipped through her.

"What?" she asked inanely, unable to say
anything else. The pounding of her heart made it difficult to think
clearly.

His molten gaze swept her again, heating her
blood. "You heard me,
slave
. Do it."

The breath seemed frozen in her chest as she
reached for the seam seal. Tension hung heavy in the room, a
tingling, anticipatory tension. She pulled the seam, opening the
robe halfway down. Shaking, she began to free her arms.

"Slowly. Take it off slowly."

The way he was looking at her made her feel
weak and hot all over. She thought of the men and women dancing in
front of the Pleasure Domes, of the erotic energy they radiated. An
instinctive, feminine awareness blossomed within her. This was the
energy of mating, the excitement, the primal pull between male and
female.

She was afraid. Afraid of the pain, afraid
of exposing her deformed body, afraid of the intensity between her
and Chase. But another part of her, the female core of her,
throbbed with a need she'd never before experienced.

Remembering the sensual movements of the
women at the Domes, she slowly slid one arm from the sleeve. Then,
even more slowly, despite her trembling, the other arm from its
sleeve. She allowed the robe to slither down, clutching it over her
breasts. Chase gripped the arms of the chair, his breathing
suddenly labored.

"Come here." His voice sounded hoarse,
guttural. She moved toward him, still afraid. "Closer."

Feeling exposed and vulnerable, she stopped
before him. His pupils were dilated, his face taut with tension, as
his intense scrutiny branded her from head to toe.

Then he grabbed her, pulling her forward.
She stumbled against him, hampered by the robe. He yanked the
fabric up, baring her legs. Lifting her onto his lap, he settled
her on her knees, spreading her thighs and forcing her to straddle
him. The movement bunched the robe around her waist.

She gasped, feeling the hardness of him
pressing between her legs. Then his mouth was on hers, his tongue
demanding entry. He pried her hands from her chest, and the robe
slid down to pool around her waist. His hands covered her breasts
and she gasped again, reeling from the rampage of sensations
slamming through her body.

He tasted different, but not unpleasant. It
must be the liquor lending that heady flavor to his mouth. She
found herself wanting more of the taste of him and twined her hands
through his hair. With a groan, he slid one large hand behind her
head, holding her still while he plundered her mouth. His other
hand squeezed and stroked her breast. Every sensation became
incredibly acute, especially the throbbing ache where he was
pressing against her so intimately.

Her breath grew erratic, surging between
each frenzied heartbeat. She no longer cared that mating would
hurt. Coherent thought fled, reality blurred, until the only point
of reference became sensation. The feel of Chase's hand on her
fevered skin, the feel of his heaving chest beneath her fingers, of
his flat, puckered nipples; the sound of his groans when she
touched them.

Then his hand slid lower, and she arched up
on her knees with a cry. He held her there, drawing a sensitive
nipple into his mouth, as he stroked and teased her feminine flesh,
coaxing an alarming wetness.

Surely she was undeserving of such pleasure,
would die from the intensity of it. But she didn't. Instead, she
spread her legs wider and his fingers stroked even deeper, and she
cried out his name.

Groaning as if he were in intense pain,
Chase withdrew his hand and fumbled with his pants. Then the
startling boldness of his penis invaded her, and panic surged
through her. She thrashed upward, but he grabbed her waist and
pressed her down on him.

"No, sweetheart, don't fight it," he panted
hoarsely. "It won't hurt as much this time, I promise. Just
relax—oh, Spirit!" With another groan, he threw his head back as
she sheathed him completely. He froze, gulping great breaths of
air.

She felt stretched further than was
possible, and it hurt, although not as much as before. Chase held
her waist, keeping them firmly joined. She sagged against him. "I
don't like it," she whispered.

He chuckled huskily. "Ah, sweetheart, but
you will. I'll make sure you do."

He moved against her, small rocking motions
at first, which emphasized how deeply he was embedded inside her.
"Kiss me," he murmured, capturing her mouth with his. As the kiss
distracted her, he lifted her, then pulled her down, showing her
the motion. Automatically, in spite of the discomfort, she followed
his guiding movements, using her legs.

Faster, more urgent, as a tension built
inside her, as he held her hips and met every stroke. Reality
retreated, all awareness centered on the give and take of their
bodies, of reaching for some unknown pinnacle. Vaguely, she heard
Chase's guttural sounds, her own low moans. Suddenly, he surged
upward, crying out. Then he sagged against the chair with a huge
sigh.

Pulling her against him, he rubbed her back,
taking several deep breaths. "Blazing hells. I'm like an untried
adolescent with you. I'm sorry, Nessa, but I couldn't hold out.
You're so tight, and the liquor didn't help any."

She didn't understand what he was talking
about. She hadn't found relief from the tension, although Chase
obviously had. Something must be wrong with
her
, probably
another result of her seizures.

As passion ebbed, embarrassment set in. She
had done it again—allowed him to touch her in shocking ways,
allowed him into her body. And he had probably expected it, since
she owed him so much. She burned with humiliation at the
thought.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Why should he be concerned, as long as his
needs were met? She pushed against his chest, disengaging their
bodies. He let her go, and she scrambled off the chair. Her leg,
stiff from her position in the chair, buckled, but she caught her
balance.

"I'm fine." She fought a sudden rush of
tears. What was the matter with her, to allow this to happen again?
Trying to untangle the robe twisted around her middle, she limped
toward the entry.

"Nessa, wait! Did I hurt you?"

She paused by the panel, keeping her back to
Chase. It was foolish to be upset, even if he had mated with her
just to ease his lust. Having now experienced sexual need herself,
she could understand the urgent, primal drive to find release—even
with someone as undesirable as she was.

"Nothing's wrong. I need to check on the
children. You'll be glad to know they were bathed and
decontaminated, just as you ordered—
master
."

She fled then, to the safety of her cabin,
away from him. Away from the shame.

* * * *

Nessa entered her cabin, finding the
children sound asleep. They hadn't even changed positions. Poor
little ones. At least, as able-bodied Shielders, they could find
acceptance in a Shielder colony. They wouldn't be outcasts, and
they could live useful lives, something she was beginning to fear
would never come to fruition for her.

Numbly, she stepped out of the robe.
Smoothing the beautiful silk, she folded it carefully. She rubbed
her throbbing leg, then went into the lav and stared at the mirror
a long time. No change, not even after the earth-shattering
upheaval she'd just experienced in Chase's arms.

She was still plain and drab, with ordinary
brown hair and eyes the color of dirt. Still thin, without enticing
curves, still scarred. But she didn't exhibit any of the changes
indicating Orana either: the bloodshot eyes and the hemorrhaging
beneath the skin, heralding the approach of death.

Sighing tiredly, she stepped into the
shower, needing to wash her encounter with Chase away. But the warm
spray couldn't remove the memory of his possession, nor the fears
she'd been holding at bay. Time was running out.

Just as she reached for the soap compound,
the stall door swung open, bringing a gust of cooler air with it.
"I'll do that." Startled, she looked up into determined gray eyes.
Chase stepped into the shower, forcing her back, and closed the
door.

Surprise tightened her throat, but she
managed to find her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Very deliberately, he pumped some soap into
the palm of his hand. He looked at her, his eyes heated, and moved
toward her slowly. "Taking care of unfinished business."

"What business?"

Not answering, he stepped closer. His
advance forced her toward the back of the stall, where the wall
halted her uneasy retreat. His eyes locked with hers, he pressed
one hand against the wall near her head and leaned forward. "A
slave may not leave without her master's permission. Did you ask my
permission, slave?"

Before she could answer, he began leisurely
soaping her breasts. They reacted immediately, swelling beneath his
touch.

"Did you ask my permission to leave?"

"N-n—no," she stammered, riotous sensations
inundating her body.

Chase slid his hands to her abdomen.
"Another thing you need to learn—a bed partner never leaves
immediately after mating. Not from
my
bed." He massaged soap
over her abdomen, then traced soapy circles along the tops of her
thighs.

She shook her head to clear the sensuous
cobwebs. "We weren't in your bed."

"We will be." He slipped his hand between
her thighs. "But first, I'm going to show you how it should be
between a man and a woman. You're going to experience the full
pleasure your body can give you."

He proceeded to demonstrate exactly what he
meant.

Nessa battled her way out of a deep sleep.
Disoriented, she struggled to focus on her surroundings. Odd, but
she'd always been a light sleeper…. Memory fragments drifted
through her groggy mind—the children, Sabin, Chase.
Chase
!
She bolted upright, the cover slipping to her waist.

The air against her bare breasts drew her
surprised attention to her nakedness. Oh. Full memory returned in a
rush. She pulled the cover up, looking around the room. Chase's
cabin…Chase's bunk. She hadn't dreamed it.

Hadn't dreamed the wild mating in his chair,
or the mindless fervor in the shower. The heat rose in her face at
that last memory. Spirit, but he had been relentless in his
determination to give her pleasure, and she had been…totally
shameless. Even worse than her wanton behavior was the fact he had
been witness to it, although at the time, she'd been too caught up
in the throes of his wickedly knowing caresses to care. But she'd
been mortified afterward.

She'd never slept with anyone before, but
Chase insisted. The children were in her bunk and the third cabin
was being used for storage. He hadn't let her put on clothing,
either, claiming he wanted to feel her bare skin against his,
wanted to
look
at her. That had been a lie, for nobody in
their right mind would want to see her body.

She didn't mind looking at him, though.
Never had she seen a masculine body so powerful and well muscled.
Just watching him stirred indecent urges.

They hadn't mated again, but he had curled
around her, pulling her against him. She'd found the feel of his
hard body pressed against her, the heat he generated oddly
comforting, yet at the same time, alien and distracting. Chase had
fallen asleep quickly, but she'd lain awake a long time before
exhaustion claimed her. The fact he'd left the bunk without waking
her testified to her weariness.

Nessa pushed her tangled hair from her face,
wondering at the time and where Chase might be now. She wasn’t
looking forward to any encounters with him today. She rose from the
bunk, stiff and sore, well used for providing his pleasure. While
she should be resentful, she grudgingly admitted he'd certainly
demonstrated the desirability of mating.

Her clothing had been left in her own cabin,
so she pulled the cover off the bunk and wrapped it around herself.
Opening the panel, she peered cautiously down the empty corridor
before making a dash for her quarters. She slipped into her cabin
and stopped short in surprise.