WarriorsWoman (5 page)

“You get time off for sex, right, Doc?” she asked softly.

Shocked again by her intuitive understanding, embarrassment warmed his ears. “Correct.”

“The three of you must be popular with women.”

“All mechs are popular with the, uh, volunteers.” The tops of his ears burned hotter with his euphemism and his conscience prickled, because none of the information related to pole polishers was restricted.

I
s
hould have told her public sex with a few pleasure droids who serviced triads is a special honor awarded to battle units who distinguished themselves by successfully completing their missions.
Vilmos looked away from Minka, unhappy withholding facts and yet unwilling to explain the truth.

“Your arrangements sound…efficient, but not exactly romantic.”

“Efficient is an accurate assessment. Mechs are battle units. Romance is like humor, it does not further our training or achieve our missions.” He repeated what they had been taught, wondering if romance would feel as sweet and light as laughter. Perhaps a crash course in the art of seduction was what they required in order to accomplish the new mission Batzorg envisioned.

“Fun is part of being human. It’s good for you, it even helps relieve stress.” She laughed wryly.

He drank in the brief, bubbly sound.

“Sorry for lecturing, it’s occupational hazard. I used to teach.”

This was exactly what he’d been doing, lecturing her with misinformation. His enjoyment of the moment escaped like air from a vacuum-sealed chamber and because of his unwarranted pride, he had unintentionally misled her. Now she did not understand what it meant to be mech. She thought of the triad as natural men.

A brisk rap on the door postponed correcting his mistake by explaining mechs were first-class warriors, but second-class citizens with none of the rank or privileges natural humans enjoyed. Vilmos sighed with relief. “Enter.”

“You still hangin’ out in here?” Lorcan raised an eyebrow in exaggerated surprise, petting the cat in his arms.

Vilmos found himself instantly stuffy and defensive again. “Minka and I were talking. She was very kind to me.”

“Huh, Batzorg wants to see you.”

Vilmos nodded to acknowledge the information then turned back to face Minka. “Thank you for a stimulating conversation, dear.”

“You’re most welcome, Doc. I hope we can do it again.”

Her lovely lips curved into a stunning smile, which made him feel larger and more powerful. Minka was a special woman made even more so because she seemed to have no concept of her own worth.

On his way out of the room, he reluctantly shut the door to preserve the heat from the fire, leaving Lorcan alone with his Minka.

Chapter Three

They’d been doing so well. Vilmos even laughed for the first time, and then something had gone wrong. When she’d asked about their off-duty time, Doc stayed sweet and polite, but he’d been upset. His distress bothered Minka more than it should. She’d actually started to climb off the bed to console him again before she caught herself. As much as the idea of comforting him appealed to her, thank goodness she’d gotten a grip before making a fool of herself. She wasn’t qualified to be his therapist and she was even less qualified as a sex worker.

What is so different about these men that makes me think about completely inappropriate touching? The way they take care of me? Their kindness? Their scent?

The first two smelled fantastic with their own special notes added to the same dark spice and clean male musk they shared.

She held out her arms for Nigel. When Lorcan stepped close enough to give her the cat, she couldn’t resist inhaling. A sigh of longing escaped from her lips.

Lorcan’s special scent held the same wonderful base notes as Batzorg’s and Vilmos’ natural fragrance. On the big guy’s smooth skin, the spice and musk combo came with a delicious splash of tangy citrus.

How unfair, they looked like sex gods and acted like heroes—strong, brave and caring, plus their scent was some kind of aphrodisiac that made her want to rub herself against their hard bodies. Even more unfair, she was so ordinary and wore eau de baby wipes with notes of feline. To further widen the gap separating her from them, they were sought-after lovers and she…wasn’t. In fact she had far less experience than the newest of the sex workers they were used to—volunteers or not.

“You doing okay?” Lorcan cupped her shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze.

“I’m fine. Thanks for a terrific dinner.”

As long as she didn’t consider terminal lust a problem, she was better than she’d been in a long, long time. Her reaction to the men was so far from her below-average sexual grade curve standard, she didn’t know what to think. She wasn’t like this. Except now, with them, she definitely was…constantly aroused. Her primal and undeniable physical response to all three men left her mind reeling and her body trembling.

Lucky for her already shaky self-esteem, lusting after the men was only obvious inside her own head, because, as thoughtful and considerate as they were, none of them had shown signs of finding her irresistible. While not super experienced, she’d tried sex and she knew that with men, interest in a woman was fairly easy to read.

She cuddled Nigel, trying to ignore the warm tingles still zinging through her erogenous zones from the big guy’s casual touch.
Right, like that’s working so well for me.

“Soup and crackers, nothing special.” He withdrew his warmth from her shoulder, stepped back and shrugged.

“Best meal I’ve had in months.”

“You’re going to be thrilled tomorrow. I’ll have a chance to cook real food. Vilmos should be able to figure out how to hook up the generator and get the water heater on line. All the comforts of home.” As he slowly raised his gaze to meet hers, his eyes were full of eagerness to please. “Would you like some canned fruit? We have peaches, pears and fruit cocktail.”

His focus swept back down her body every bit as slowly as it had gone up.

He’s checking me out!
Right, get over yourself, girl, it’s far more likely that he’s shy and avoiding holding your gaze.

She was too skinny to be sexy, although in her winter layers, he couldn’t tell much of anything about her shape. “No thanks. I’m stuffed, but that’s a terrific dessert menu.”

“You deserve the best.” He turned away to study the crackling fire then added another chunk of pinewood.

Yeah, definitely shy.

“Where are we anyway?” She tried the same question she’d asked Vilmos.

“A hunting cabin, it’s a little rustic, but dry and the bedroom’s easy to heat. The kitchen is decent. The pantry totally rocks. There’s a deepwater well. Don’t worry, we checked, the water tested drinkable. Plus, the place came with working LPG appliances, and a full tank of propane. My guess is someone planned to winter here.”

She bit back a smile at his answer, so entirely different from Doc’s. “You don’t sound like your pals.”

He bobbed his head, met her gaze and flashed his charming, crooked grin. “That’s ’cause I’m a big fan of the end-of-days era.”

“End-of-days era?”

“Sorry, that’s what history buffs in our time call the pre-pandemic decade.” He sighed. “Such a wonderful period. So much awesome music. Did you get to see a lot of live concerts?”

Whoa, his wistful question made her a relic from his past. A status she definitely wasn’t ready for, but if they were from the future…she was a historical figure. The entire conversation grew weirder and weirder by the moment, either they were crazy or she’d lost it. “A few times, but the tickets were usually out of my price range. How about you, have you seen any of the performances from this period?”

He shook his head in regret. “None of the holographic concerts survived. All we have are digital music files. Story of my life—engineered two hundred years too late.”

Minka swallowed a gasp of surprise. She would’ve guessed him—all of them actually—a bit older than she was. They looked as if they were in their mid-thirties. Or else they were from the future, which made them what—two hundred and thirties? No, they’d still be in their thirties, right? She rubbed tension from her temples. The time travel concept hurt her head.

“I’ve never seen a holographic recording of a concert or of anything else.”

“The performances weren’t lost. Bummer.” His voice softened and his shoulders rounded with disappointment. “They were never captured.”

The wind whistled and a branch creaked. She jumped on the chance to change the subject from ancient history and its relics—like her—to something easier. The weather as conversation was trite but safe. “Sounds like we’re in for a real winter storm.”

“Yeah, we’re stuck for a couple of days, maybe longer,” he said cheerfully.

Minka had camped in far worse places. She shuddered and snapped the lid on that set of bleak memories. “We were lucky to find this cabin, big guy.”

“Luck’s not part of the deal, Batzorg led us straight here.”

“How did he find it?”

Lorcan picked up the tray and moved toward the door. He shifted the load to his hip, turned back, and winked before leaving. “You’ll have to ask him yourself, hot stuff.”

His parting shot made her smile. She liked the sound of hot stuff. Sure she did, because hot stuff wasn’t her at all. She was much more the gal-pal type. Except around these guys, her arousal was constant and unmistakable…with all three of them?

Very different and very weird. But she’d left both nice and normal behind a long time ago.

Nigel leapt off the bed and darted after his new friend.

Little traitor dumped me for a measly couple of cans of seafood.
She sniffed and reassured herself that he’d come back whenever the big guy closed the kitchen. Probably.

Alone again, she grew restless and explored the room. A small closet held spare bed linens, a large heavy jacket, and a pair of men’s rubber boots. The other door opened to a bathroom with running water. She looked at the old-fashioned claw-footed tub with longing and tried the hot water faucet. Stinging cold chilled her fingers, exactly the same icy temperature that came from the C-labeled brass knob.

A lack of hot water barely dampened the thrill of having access to a functioning bathroom. After a quick check of the well-stocked linen cupboard, she dug through her pack for her toothpaste, brush and floss. Once she’d cleaned her teeth, she made use of the small oval mirror to comb her messy hair and clip it off her neck. She locked her molars to endure a cold-water spot wash. Not fun, but better than using her dwindling supply of baby wipes.

Before she stripped, the door in the other room opened and the floor creaked. She unclipped her hair, shook out her curls, and hurried back into the bedroom.

Batzorg had removed his helmet, revealing close-cropped hair as dark as his midnight eyes. He held an old-fashioned galvanized-steel wash tub half filled with steamy water. He set the bath in front of the fire. Vilmos followed him into the room carrying a kettle of hot water, towels and real soap.

Her eyes widened in delight. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a hot bath. Sudden tears of gratitude welled, making her blink hard.
Three decent guys pop into my life and I turn into a complete wimp.

“Put the kettle by the tub, the towels on the chair,” Batzorg directed.

Doc still wore his helmet with the face shield raised. For a moment, his gaze locked with hers. With a quick flash of his dimple he set down his burdens and asked, “Where do you want the soap?”

“On top of the towels, then leave.” Batzorg’s eyes locked on hers and didn’t waver.

Heat rose from her chest to stain her neck and face.

She was almost sure Doc wanted to stay, but he obeyed Batzorg’s orders without a word of protest. She empathized with his choice. The triad leader compelled obedience.

“Thanks for helping,” she called after him. She angled her gaze away from the hot water to the even hotter Batzorg. Ignoring her rampaging hormones, she did the right thing and handed him an easy exit line. “Thanks for arranging the bath. It’s wonderful, champ.”

When he showed no sign of leaving, she smiled nervously, trying to soften her dismissal. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but you don’t need to stay. I can handle undressing and bathing all by myself.”

Definitely the smart choice, since I don’t want to throw myself at you and die of embarrassment when you reject me.
Her gaze wandered back to the luxury of steam rising from the metal tub. While mesmerized by the long-dreamed-of bath, she didn’t notice Batzorg move.

Not a single footfall, creak, or even rustle betrayed him.

How could such a big man walk so silently?

Obviously, he knew the secret, because now he stood so close he warmed her. She fought to keep from leaning into his strength.

His breath caressed her ear. “Am I your champion, little one?”

She wanted to whimper,
yes, please
. But her mouth was suddenly too dry to speak.

“What you say is true, you are capable of bathing yourself, but do you want to?” A bottle of shampoo appeared in his large hand. “How would you rinse all the lather from your hair by yourself, little one?”

His deep baritone was sheer seduction. Her heart accelerated and her hopes floated to the ceiling.
Looks like I was
wrong about him not being interested, thank goodness.

She moaned. The telling sound made any further protest seem silly. Besides, if he was willing to bathe her, wash her hair and ravish her body she planned to enjoy every moment of the bath, the shampoo and the sex.

Sex with Batzorg would be glorious. How could it be anything less than wonderful, when just looking at him excited her more than any other man’s caresses?

He might find her nakedness disappointing, but since she had the one-of-the-last-few-women-on-Earth thing going for her, he might well overlook her lack of curves.
Definitely worth the risk.

One strong hand gathered her hair and held it aside. His moist mouth brushed her nape and she shivered as licks of heat spread from his lips, warming her from the inside out. The inner fire shot off sparks that tightened her nipples into rigid points and lapped at her core.