Authors: Susan Kearney
The Challenge (31 page)
Something she didn’t know she had inside her hurt.
Hurt worse than any beating she’d ever taken in a dojo. Hurt worse than losing her parents. Hurt worse than losing Master Chen. She hurt so badly that the pain wrapped around her and squeezed out a sob. She’d wanted to assuage his simmering anger because . . . she had feelings for him.
How dare he make her want more than sex from him? How dare he make her cry? She told herself she cried tears of anger at how cruelly he’d just treated her, but she knew better. Somehow the big warrior had made her care about him. That’s why she’d responded to the tangle of his searing looks, demanding touch and prideful anger. That’s why he could stomp her buttons.
Damn it. She didn’t want to like him. She didn’t want to care about him when he didn’t let her speak for herself. When he didn’t even treat her like a civilized person. She might have traveled to the future, but his demands were primitive.
And the hell of it was that while he didn’t respect her, she still cared about him. What the hell was wrong with her?
When had she begun to change? Had she developed feelings for him when he’d lost that bet to her and kept his word to train her as he would a man? Or when he’d spoken about his starving people? Or his mother’s broken heart? Or when he’d admitted he’d known about Dora and had permitted Tessa continue to speak with the computer to help her adjust?
Damn the man. He’d saved her life, married her, then spanked her and sexually aroused her and then abandoned her. And she wanted him? How the fuck had she let this happen?
KAHN SLUMPED in front of the communications screen, knowing he couldn’t have denied his wife without help from his suit. His yen to make love to her almost overrode his fury at Jypeg. Kahn had to use every measure of control to keep the Challenge first and foremost in his mind—and that meant walking away from the Endekian who’d killed Lael, the same murderer who who’d boasted how Tessa was speaking to him about a business deal. However much Kahn hungered for the day when he would be free to fight Jypeg, he had to put his people’s needs over his own for revenge and justice. Confronting Jypeg would have created an interworld incident where Rystan would come out the loser since it had yet to win full Federation support.
So Kahn had left his enemy alive for now and focused his anger on his wife. She needed to learn to obey him—the difference could mean whether she lived or died during the Challenge. And only one thing seemed to even slow her down—sexual stimulation followed by his refusal to satisfy her. His actions had been harsh—but he hoped effective. Damn she was hot. And her moves had been almost too seductive to resist. She’d looked so lovely, and he’d wanted to go to her so much that walking out of that room had been as difficult as leaving Jypeg alive. But neither Tessa nor Kahn could do only what they wanted. Rystan and Earth were counting on them to comport themselves as representatives of their worlds.
Reluctant to give his people the devastating news that he hadn’t secured funds to buy food, he put off sending the disagreeable call a moment longer and checked his navigation instruments. Their coordinates were slightly askew.
“Computer, recalculate our flight path and correct for the most proficient travel time to Rystan.”
“Compliance.”
He watched his instruments, double checking the computer. What he didn’t understand was how he’d erred on his initial miscalculation. Although the mistake was slight, Kahn didn’t make those kinds of errors. Had he been so upset with his wife that he’d failed to perform the intricate calculations properly? She’d certainly distracted him from everything else. Even during his stymied talks with the bankers who had all turned him down, he’d wondered what had possessed Tessa to speak with Jypeg. The Endekian had killed Lael, and Kahn had no doubt that Jypeg would have disposed of her as well—if he’d gotten a chance.
Kahn’s hands clenched into fists of outrage. Tessa had lied to him. Gone back on her word. Worst of all, she’d placed herself in considerable danger and by doing so had risked the fates of two worlds. No wonder after Kahn had arrived on the starship he’d been upset enough to make a mathematical mistake.
While he could have used a computer command to head for Rystan, Kahn usually preformed the navigation equations himself. He didn’t fly Federation spaceships that often and didn’t want his lose his piloting skills from lack of use, so he practiced every chance he had. Besides, after removing his wife from Zenon and his most hated enemy, he’d needed time to calm himself before he’d confronted her. So he’d calculated the equations, but his thoughts had been divided between his task and her.
Tessa had had no right to put herself in such danger, taking unacceptable risks without even consulting him. To have spoken to Jypeg was sheer stupidity—only Tessa wasn’t stupid. She was smart, adaptable, and back on Earth she’d proven she had the capacity for loyalty by risking her life to save others.
He didn’t understand her. She didn’t come from merely a different planet and a different culture, his wife had a different mindset. In retrospect, perhaps he should have given her a chance to explain her actions. But he’d been so angry that he’d snapped. As his temper now cooled, he also realized that he would never have been so furious if he hadn’t come to care for his wife. Ever since their psi had melded, he’d appreciated her generosity of spirit, her courage. He’d actually been discovering that he enjoyed a few of their differences. In some ways, he had more in common with Tessa than he would have a woman from Rystan. She understood fighting tactics and the need for a warrior to keep his skills sharp. She also understood loyalty—or he’d thought she did. Change didn’t come easy to Kahn, but he’d tried to make allowances for her background.
Now, he had to find a way to forgive her and move past this incident. His people back on Rystan needed him to focus on a way to save them. Although the immediacy of the Challenge and his task to train her took precedence over keeping his people from long-term starvation, he couldn’t simply forget that his friends and neighbors might not last the winter.
And for personal reasons, he also had to find a way to forgive his wife. But stars help him, every time he thought of her speaking to the man who’d killed Lael, he got angry all over again. He understood that on Earth Tessa had been a warrior in her own right, and under normal circumstances she could do a good job of looking out for herself. But Jypeg was almost as skilled a fighter as Kahn. One on one, Tessa wouldn’t stand a chance, and back on Zenon Prime, Jypeg could have brought resources to bear that Tessa couldn’t begin to counter.
Of course, Tessa didn’t know much about Jypeg. Kahn hadn’t told her. A mistake he would rectify. Choosing to have Tessa concentrate only on what she needed to know for the Challenge had been a mistake. Especially if she didn’t survive to even take the test.
“Computer, why did we vary from optimum flight path?”
“You failed to account for additional mass.”
“I adjusted for supplementary fuel.”
“But not the cargo.”
“What cargo?”
“Your wife had goods delivered to the hold.”
Kahn slapped his palm against his head. He’d never asked Tessa what she’d bought. She had his gut so twisted up with the danger she’d put herself in that he hadn’t stopped to consider that maybe he could salvage the mess she’d made. Perhaps he could resell her purchases and recoup part of the credits—enough to buy food. That would mean turning the ship around, but the loss in time and fuel might be worth going back, depending on how easily he could resell the goods she’d purchased.
“Let me see a cargo manifest.”
“There is no cargo manifest,” the computer said.
Kahn spoke through gritted teeth. “Why not?”
“I wiped the documentation after the cargo arrived.”
“On my wife’s orders?”
“Yes.”
Kahn’s fury rose several more notches. “Tessa doesn’t want me to know what she purchased.”
“You are making assumptions that I cannot confirm or deny. There are other possibilities.”
“Like what?”
“Her goal may not have been secrecy. Perhaps
she
wants to tell you what she purchased herself. Perhaps she wants to surprise you. Did you ask her?” The computer prodded in a most uncomputer-like fashion.
“Are you taking her side?”
The computer hummed and hesitated. “My ethics program prevents me from answering that question.”
“Why?”
“My ethics program prevents me from answering that question, also.”
Kahn frowned in frustration. The computer had programmed rules to follow. To prevent two people of equal rank from ordering conflicting directions and crashing the computer, the machine had ethical and logic circuits that allowed it to think. For example if a captain went berserk and ordered the computer to empty the air out of the ship and murder the crew, the computer wouldn’t follow the order. Something must have jarred the computer’s logic circuits, and he figured she was due for an overhaul.
Shoving away from the desk, Kahn headed to the cargo hold where he could see for himself exactly what his wife had purchased. Located in the belly of the ship by the stern, the hold was run by robots that loaded and stored crated materials.
While striding past the hyper drives, Kahn noted he had another problem—a most peculiar problem. All the blood in his body flowed to his genitals, creating a stiff erection that jutted his pants outward.
Was his suit malfunctioning?
After a quick diagnosis that showed his suit to be in perfect working order, Kahn halted in mid stride. He suddenly recalled the position he’d left his wife in, naked and oiled, and how easy it would be to go to her and fix his problem. She must be furious and frustrated, enough to tap her psi and use the wedding band she’d woven around his
tavis
and balls.
Stars, help him! She’d figured out how to use the bands against him.
Sweat beaded his brow, his gut clenched, and he readjusted his suit to give his new dimensions more room. Forcing his feet toward the cargo bay, he locked his jaw in determination. His balls ached, his
tavis
hardened, but he would resist her psi call. He couldn’t allow her to know that her mental effect on the marriage band was actually working. She couldn’t learn that she had such a power over him, or he’d never be able to teach her the rest of what she needed to pass the Challenge.
When Kahn finally arrived at the cargo bay, he shot a psi thought at the hatch. Assuming the portal would open as usual, he began to walk through and halted, just short of running into a solid wall. His psi command hadn’t worked, and the hatch wouldn’t open.
Frustration boiling over, he fought to keep his tone steady. “Computer, why isn’t the hatch opening?”
“Your wife keyed the mechanism to work for only her command.”
His wife had figured out how to use technology against him? “Why?” Kahn didn’t expect an answer, but his frustration warred with the need to plunge into her heat. The image of her lovely breasts and enticing curves waiting for him tantalized him almost as much as the hardness of his swollen
tavis
.
“She said she was worried about theft.”
Kahn pounded the bulkhead with his fist. He couldn’t think. No man could think with what his wife was doing to him. He’d never wanted a woman so badly in his life. Kahn had worn his suit since childhood. Accustomed to the suit preventing unwanted sexual urges, he had never before dealt with unfulfilled sexual desire. He didn’t have erections until he was ready for sex and a partner.
As badly as he wanted to enter that cargo hold, as badly as he wanted to find a way around what Tessa was doing to him, he couldn’t. Sweat poured down his forehead faster than the suit could absorb it. His stomach roiled from unfulfilled need slicing him.
Every thought centered on finding relief for his
tavis
. But there was only one woman on board this ship, and if he went to her, she would know her power over him. Then she could call him whenever she pleased.
He . . . had . . . to . . . resist.
“Do you require medical attention?” the computer asked.
“Shut up.”
“Compliance.”
Was that sassiness he heard in the computer’s tone? Or was he imagining that she was amused by his predicament? Computers didn’t have a sense of humor. Just like wives shouldn’t have any control over their husband’s sexuality.
With his
tavis
stretched painfully tight, Kahn took desperate measures. He tried to shove his erection down between his legs, but the maneuver only caused more pain and did nothing to relieve him.
He gasped and straightened, his
tavis
springing back upward like a staff pole.
