Authors: Susan Kearney
The Challenge (29 page)
Dora immediately chimed in. “You aren’t going to—”
Tessa thrummed her fingers on the console, thinking hard, wishing she had other options. She called Azrel and summarized the problem, but didn’t mention the restrictions Kahn had placed on her.
Through the vidscreen Azrel’s green eyes narrowed in thought. “I don’t have that kind of credit, or I’d give it to you.”
“Thanks.” Tessa sighed in frustration. “I know Jypeg killed Lael. He can only be offering me credit to make things worse.”
“After Jypeg shot Lael, Kahn and the Endekian fought,” Azrel said. “Kahn injured the man’s face, but when the dying Lael called out to her husband, Kahn went to her side and allowed the Endekian to flee. Jypeg wants revenge for the scar that reminds him of his cowardice and would do anything to embarrass Kahn. If Jypeg is offering you a loan, you can be sure the terms will all be in his favor. And I do not think you can make this deal without Kahn’s knowledge. Jypeg will make sure he finds out.”
“Let me worry about Kahn.”
“You’re actually considering . . .”
“Do I have another option?” The Endekian had killed Lael, and he might try to kill Tessa, too. She could protect herself but so many things could go wrong. She didn’t like the idea of going to Kahn’s enemy. Her husband would be livid. He’d told her to stay here and not to use the computer. He was already furious over her spending the credits. For making a deal with his enemy, he might lose that tight control he had over his temper. The results would be disastrous—for her. But she would not have children’s deaths on her head. Whatever Kahn did, she would bear it.
Azrel lifted an eyebrow. “Corban has told me much about his planet’s customs. Are you sure you want to risk—”
Still undecided, Tessa sighed. “I cannot let people starve when I could avert a disaster, but making a deal with the Endekian turns my stomach.”
“May I make a suggestion?”
“Please do.”
“Why don’t you ask the Osarian for a loan?”
Azrel’s idea turned out to be an excellent one but not because Osari extended her credit. After contacting Osari, Tessa had been astonished to learn that her partnership had already yielded immediate profits. She didn’t need to borrow when credits had already accumulated in her accounts. Amazingly their business had earned enough in half a day for her to authorize Dora to purchase food, seeds, and hydroponics equipment and store them aboard the ship. For once, fate seemed to be going her way.
In spite of her aching feet, Tessa felt like dancing. Thank goodness she hadn’t made a deal with Jypeg. She couldn’t wait to share her good news with Kahn.
But when Kahn finally barged through the door, his face flushed with rage, his eyes glazed with temper, his lips truculent, she didn’t get a word out before he used her bands to gag her.
Fueled by fury, his tone was low, dangerous, and threaded with contempt. “I told you not to use the communications equipment, didn’t I?”
Speaking to defend her actions was impossible due to the gag, which stopped all sound. She pointed to her mouth, gesturing for him to let her speak.
His eyes darkened into amber flames. “And not only do you disobey me, you betrayed me again by talking to Jypeg.” He must have seen the surprise in her eyes. “Did you not think he’d brag to all who would listen that he and my wife,” Kahn practically spat the word in disgust, “are talking business?”
EVEN AFTER Tessa and Kahn reached the spaceship and had left Zenon Prime’s orbit, he kept her gagged. Wrapped in his fury, rage radiated from him with a dark aura that fed her own anger.
Now he had her standing before him in the familiar chamber on the way to his planet where he would have even more control over her. His eyes burned with piercing accusation.
His lack of trust in her had shredded her pride, and she figured she was as furious with him as he was with her. Until she took another good look at his clenched jaw and realized that his rage with her knew no bounds. Her gut responded as if she’d just dived off a cliff.
But damn him, why hadn’t he stopped to think she might have a good reason for her actions? He never gave her the benefit of the doubt. Not once. So what if she’d disobeyed his direct order? Who had put him in charge? Well, to be fair she supposed she had when she’d told him she’d follow Rystani customs. But to hell with his customs that kept women in the dark. Part of this disaster was his fault for not telling her about his plans for the credits that the Federation had given to her. She’d tried to make amends and spoken to Jypeg only out of desperation and fear that Kahn might have been in danger. That would teach her to worry over him. Now she’d earned enough credits to feed Kahn’s people, but the big jerk didn’t know that because he was too busy nursing his bruised ego to let her even speak.
She understood that according to the information Kahn had at the moment, she was a traitor. And as badly as he’d treated her, as angry as she was with him, she knew that she’d hurt him, too. After hearing about his grandfather’s betrayal, he’d been torn up, and what she had done by speaking to his enemy had shredded what was left of his pride.
Kahn needed time to heal, they both did, but that couldn’t even begin to happen until they worked the edge off their anger enough to talk.
“Mmm.” She pointed to her mouth.
“I don’t want to hear you speak.”
For his sake and hers, she had to mend this breach between them. Holding out her hands to beseech him to change his mind, she again pointed to her mouth.
“No.”
Muscles bulging with tension, he folded his arms across his chest, possibly to prevent himself from losing his temper. “You will dance the
Ramala Ki
for me.”
Stationary he might be, however, a muscle throbbed in his forehead signaling his fury. The temper in his tone cut her. But she shook her head, not in defiance—but because she didn’t know the dance. Although she was supposed to have been studying when he’d left her on Zenon, the
Ramala Ki
took years to learn. There was no point in pretending to him that she knew the intricate steps.
“You will dance for me according to ritual.” Arms still crossed over his chest, he floated into the air and leaned back as if supported by a lounge chair. Although he’d assumed a more casual position, he loomed over her, his demeanor assertive, his eyes demanding. On a monitor, a woman danced the
Ramala Ki
. Clearly, he wanted her to imitate the steps.
But what was he thinking? The
Ramala Ki
was a dance where the wife seduced her husband. Was this his way of making up? By ordering her to dance to seduce him? On one level, his demand made her angrier, but on another level, his idea appealed to her. If he wanted her to dance, she would dance. Dance until he forgot their differences, until he brought her into his arms, until they made love and their psi merged once again and took the edge off the pain they’d caused one another.
Although she hadn’t slept in two days, although her feet ached, she’d gotten a second wind. She wanted to put things right. She would have preferred a conversation, but he’d taken that option from her. So she would use what he’d given her, an excuse to taunt him, tease him, seduce him into doing what she wanted.
Whoever thought that Special Agent in Charge Tessa Camen would resort to dancing to get her own way? The irony almost made her smile—until she recalled Kahn’s fury.
Kahn wanted her to dance? Fine. She would comply. Oh, yeah, she would comply to the nth degree.
“I’m turning control of the suit over to you,” he told her with a laser sharp edge that warned her she was playing with fire. His cheekbones sharp as sculpted
bendar
gave no quarter. But beneath his clipped words and harsh tone, she heard a cord of pain that she wanted to ease.
Assuming the position of the opening pose, she bowed her head, placed her hands behind her back and tried to empty her mind of the anger. Music that he must have turned on through the ship’s speakers helped soothe her turmoil. This time just for him, slowly, shyly raising her gaze to his as Rystani custom demanded, she swayed her hips in time to the exotic beat.
The dance began slowly, the tiny steps an intricate pattern that never repeated more than twice before changing. Shyness soon turned to brazen glances and hot licks of boldness. Music thrummed in her head and raised her hopes that she would give him much more than he’d asked of her.
Kahn might be angry with her, but he also couldn’t keep his gaze off of her. Good. She needed his full attention on her hips, her breasts, her eyes. And as she danced, she couldn’t deny herself the satisfaction of holding his interest. Sensing that he was fighting himself, fighting his attraction to her, she spun and gyrated with abandon.
His eyes focused on her with a fascination that made her heart pound and her breath hitch. Like tiny soldiers snapping to attention, her nerves stood up, saluted. No matter which way she swiveled or twirled, his eyes targeted on her, leaving no doubt of his scalding interest, his response pouring liquid heat straight into her limbs. As she writhed to the tempo, the alien dress caught sparkles of light and reflected them on her skin.
And when the music reached the first crescendo, she posed with her feet a brazen foot apart, her hips angled in an erotic tilt, her hands held out to him. For a moment, she thought he would take her hands, pull her out of the pose and into his arms. He didn’t.
Kahn uncrossed his arms, stood back on his feet and moved in close enough for her to smell his virile scent. Close enough for her to feel the pure man heat radiating off his tawny skin. Close enough for her to revel in a shiver of anticipation.
As if considering some minute detail of her pose, Kahn cocked his head. “Hold still until I instruct you otherwise.”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t move. However, when he lifted her skirt and stroked his palm along her backside, she trembled. Kahn had a habit of skipping steps in seduction that both excited her and left her leery.
Obviously, he wouldn’t be lifting her skirt unless he was thinking about making love, so she was succeeding. Willing herself to be more patient with him than she’d ever been, she held perfectly still.
“Open your legs wider.”
She complied and as his hand skimmed up the inside of her thigh, she quivered into a liquid pool. Moisture seeped between her legs. She no longer wanted to think about what had brought them to this moment together. She ached to turn, to take him into her arms and kiss him until he wanted her as much as she wanted him. However, those were Earth customs and he had bound her to Rystani rituals.
Longing to move, she nevertheless waited, her impatience mounting, hoping he would touch her, wondering if lust or anger would win out.
“And you are wearing too many clothes,” he complained. “You will choose a more exciting pose next time, yes?”
She didn’t respond with words, but her pulse sped up. She might not have perfectly mimicked every step on the monitor, but the poses, those she could duplicate. Clearly, if she intended to incite his lust, she must go farther and choose the spicier, most seductive poses.
His eyes gleamed, and his tone turned husky. “Remove the top of your dress.”
She had never removed her own “clothing” for him. Before, he’d always used his psi on her suit and taken what he’d wanted. His command startled her, unnerved her a little. The idea of baring herself to him, exposing her breasts on his command made her belly tighten.
She had such mixed feelings about complying with his order that she hesitated. He didn’t say one word, just raised a supercilious eyebrow that arrowed a shiver of panic to her center. Although he’d seen her naked before, although they’d made love before, stripping to his command was different. She hadn’t known exposing herself to him would be so hard. She hadn’t known being on display would make her so inhibited.
If only he would move back and give her room. If only he wasn’t dressed so formally in a handsome ensemble that showed off his powerful shoulders and dark trousers that emphasized his long legs. If only the suit didn’t allow him total control over a physical reaction.
With a rush of anxiety, she sent a psi thought to peel her suit down until she’d bared her shoulders and revealed a mere tantalizing hint of cleavage.
“More,” he demanded, his mouth softening with approval. At the same time, he brightened an overhead light, focusing the beam on her still covered chest.
Her nerves strung taut. Then she bared her breasts to him, revealing the hard tips that told him more than she wanted him to know, that revealed despite her anger, despite her embarrassment, despite everything—she was still excited by him. He smiled a smile of satisfaction, of acknowledgement, as if he knew exactly what her gesture had cost her. But the rasp of breath he expelled and the flare of his nostril gave her hope. She was getting to him.
