Colliding Worlds Trilogy 01 - Collision (3 page)

Sienna gave the pilot another look and found eyes darker than midnight, without any surrounding white, watching her.

In a flash she was off the bed and standing several feet away, at the same time leveling the Glock at him. “Who are you?”

He ignored her, choosing instead to tug at his restraints while he muttered beautifully strange words, which, if going by the look on his face, were more likely a string of cussing so colorful they’d make a sailor blush. Sienna mentally shrugged.
I guess I’d be pissed, too, if I woke up tied to some stranger’s bed.

“Do you speak English?” she asked, pausing between each word.

He stilled but didn’t look away from his restraints. “Why am I here?” he asked in rough English.

“You were hurt, and I couldn’t leave you at your ship. It sort of blew up.”

“Blue? I do not understand.”

“Exploded. Ka-boom.” She emphasized the word with her free hand.

After a moment, the pilot began tugging at his restraints again, showing no surprise at the fact that his ship couldn’t be repaired.

Sienna frowned. The beeping back at the ship resonated in her mind, and things clicked. Her mouth dropped open.
Shit.
“You expected to die when you crashed.”

At those words, he looked down from his restraints and met her eyes with a look of resolve. It was just like any classic sci-fi movie: he couldn’t risk being seen until his people were ready to show themselves, or take over the world, or whatever aliens did when they came to a new planet. Even at the cost of his own life.

“If it weren’t for me, you would have died,” she said, not realizing she’d spoken her thoughts aloud. “Were you running from the other guy?”

“I was
hunting
the Draeken,” he replied with a snarl.

Draeken
. That name rang a bell. Something her mother had said. Sienna shook away the thought, making a mental note to ask Kat about it later. She narrowed an eye at the pilot. “Why are you here?”

“You brought me here.”

She shook her head. “No. I meant, why are you
here
?” She gestured around her to emphasize the question.

He didn’t answer for the longest time. Instead, he lay there and watched her with those compelling dark eyes. “Let me go,” was all he said.

A soft snort escaped her. “Like hell. You were going to shoot me.”

He yanked against his restraints and grunted before surrendering to the mattress with a wince. It was then she saw a pool of blood she’d completely missed before. Sienna gasped, and, without thinking, scrambled over to him and rolled him onto his side, all the while keeping the gun securely aimed at him point blank.

“Release me.” He weakly pushed back, but with his wrists tied — thank God — she had the upper hand.

Sienna glared. “Behave. Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?”

With his wrists tied, she couldn’t roll him all the way onto his stomach. Unable to see, she had to go off touch, feeling for the wound, moving her fingers over his skin until he sucked in a breath. Thick, warm moisture enveloped her fingers.

Damn
. The wound was near his spine. Sienna gritted her teeth. An inch to the left and he would have been paralyzed. Or worse.

Her back straightened and she looked directly at her patient, prisoner, whatever. “It’s bad. I’ve got to get a closer look, so no funny business or else I’ll poke a finger in the wound.”

The pilot’s lips tightened, but he said nothing.

After giving him a wary eye, she set the gun next to her on the mattress where she could grab it in an instant if necessary and moved to get a closer look at the wound.

“Ow!” Sienna snapped back her finger to find a bead of crimson blood forming on the tip. The culprit was still embedded in his skin.

Wiping still more crimson and amber blood on her cargos, she got down on her knees for a closer look at what had cut her. A shard of dark metal protruded from the skin, creating a gouge similar to the one that had been on his abdomen. It had never occurred to her to check for an exit wound. She glanced back up to see the injured pilot glaring at her over his shoulder.

She chewed on her lower lip. If he’d been a
normal
person, she’d leave the shrapnel in there until it could be removed by a professional. But this man was anything but normal, and she couldn’t risk leaving it. “There’s something still in there. I need to get it out before you do that healing thing again and seal it inside. On the count of three.”

“Three what?” Grumpy asked, his rough voice betraying the pain he was clearly battling.

“Never mind.” The metal came out with a quick tug. He grunted but didn’t yank away. Blood spilled forward, she slapped her hand over the wound, and warm liquid poured out between her fingers. Just like it’d done the other two times, heat surged under her hand. A familiar blanket of dizziness fell over her, and she fought to stay steady on her knees. After several more seconds, the bleeding slowed, then stopped altogether. She pulled back and tossed the shard onto the nightstand. It made a metallic ping when it bounced off the hard oak.

He rolled onto his back and eyed her, his brows furrowed. “You helped me. Why did you not break contact?”

Exhausted, she grabbed the gun, tumbled off the bed and took a seat on the floor, using her knee to steady her aim. “You were hurt. Touching you seemed to help. Cool trick, by the way. How do you do that?”

“Energy.” The strange man examined Sienna from his prone position. “Release me. Please,” he gritted out the words through clenched teeth, the words sounding more like an ultimatum than a request.

“So you can shoot me like you did the other guy? Thanks, but no thanks.”

“He was the enemy.”

“The last time I checked, this country isn’t at war,” she snapped back.

Suddenly, he lunged forward, his hands pulling free from the restraints, and tackled her. Her head banged against the hardwood floor. Sienna’s world closed in, and she felt the gun yanked from her hand. Still, she managed to kick and punch at him like a rabid wolverine. Not that it did any good. When the room quit swimming, her arms were pinned and his face was inches from hers, his warm breath touching her lips.

She hit him with the only thing she could still move, slamming her forehead against his. He grimaced, but he never even flinched. Stars danced across her vision, and shards of pain ran killer sprints through her brain. The guy had a brick wall for a head. Out of options, all she could do now was glare. “Let me go, Asshole.”

He frowned. “Why did you help me?” he asked, deflecting her command.

In response, she struggled harder, and his grip tightened. “Ow, ow, ow,” she muttered. He loosened his grip just enough so that she didn’t feel like her bones would be pulverized.

“Why did you help me?” he repeated, showing the patience of dog vying for its owner’s attention.

After a long pause, he released her wrists, and she pulled them to her chest, rubbing circulation back into them. With a drawn-out sigh, Sienna laid her head back on the floor. He had her, and he knew it.

“First.” She held up a finger. “You would’ve died if it weren’t for me. If your plane didn’t do the job, I’m guessing that other guy would have. It’s not too late for a simple ‘thank you,’ by the way. And, second, it’s not like I invited you to crash into my back yard.” She switched fingers to give him the bird an inch in front of his face.

The grimace he’d been wearing since he awoke curled into what could almost be construed as a grin, and he lifted off her just enough. In a flash of movement, she launched her attack. She slid her leg around his thigh and put all her weight into him, rolling him onto his back. She was on top, but it didn’t stay that way for long.

“Ugh!”

He grabbed her and rolled them over, leaving her pinned once more under a wall of muscle. His face was tight — his emotions barely leashed. She couldn’t move.

The pilot leaned back onto his knees, and Sienna punched him futilely as he picked up her Glock and
bent
the barrel. Then, he tossed away the useless weapon. Her punches froze. “What are you?”

He leaned forward and ran a too-warm palm across her cheek as energy tingled through her, sending heat to all the wrong places. She meant to turn away from him, but instead her head turned closer to him so that he cupped her cheek. It was like her body craved him. Realizing what she’d done, she yanked to get away. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it,” she said in one final shove against him.

His eyes widened, color shot through the black orbs like tiny bolts of lightning. For a surprised second, he stayed frozen. “It’s you,” was all the pilot said before he grabbed her wrists and held them with one hand above her head. He hovered inches above her, his scent woodsy, watching her with confusion and curiosity.

The vulnerable proximity of him was too much. Heat shot through her, heat that was one part fear and another part something that frightened the hell out of her. Her heart beat like it was trying to break free from her chest. So Sienna did the first — and probably not the brightest — thing that came to mind.

She kissed him.

For a surprised second, the pilot stayed frozen. Then he kissed back, hard, taking no prisoners, as if he were punishing Sienna for saving him. After seconds — or minutes — of kissing her senseless, he pulled back, leaving her gasping for air. During that time, she’d forgotten why she kissed him in the first place.

Instead, Sienna lay there in a daze after experiencing the most incredible kiss of her life. It was electric, surreal. And it had been from a complete stranger and a definite villain. She should have been terrified. But all she knew was she didn’t want it to end. It was as if her super-ego died, and her id took over.
How effed up is this?

The little angel on her shoulder that should’ve warned her to get out of there before it was too late, that he could kill her, was MIA. But the truth was, her body wouldn’t have listened anyway. She couldn’t have stopped him if she tried. Either way, sane Sienna was long gone. Whatever she felt, the intensity went far beyond anything she had ever felt before. Maybe the feeling had something to do with how he was able to heal. Maybe he could somehow manipulate energy to make her crave him. She couldn’t have stopped even if she wanted to. At that moment she’d rather give up breathing than that kiss.

“What are you?” she whispered at the same time her thighs spread to cradle him. Realizing her action too late, she clamped them together, but he’d already shifted, and her action lodged him against her. He paused to watch her. She looked into alien eyes, concentrating on calming down — to find logic — but failing miserably. “Stop,” she pleaded, surprised at the lack of command in her voice.
Stop touching me? Stop not touching me?

He, too, was breathing heavy. “I cannot any more than you can. It is too late now.” He looked a touch sad before lowering his lips to hers. He kissed her, first softly, then passionately, turning the room into a tropical rain forest. His scent carried on the air she breathed. He was everywhere. Any sense of judgment failed, and a moan escaped her lips and into his mouth.

A calloused hand brushed against her, and she shuddered in pleasure. With a sharp tug, he ripped off her shirt and bra. Cold air brushed across her breasts, only to be doused by heat when he lowered himself enough to close his lips over a nipple, damn near putting her over the edge. His hand moved down over her stomach, sending tingles of pleasure throughout her body. She felt her pants slide down, vaguely impressed at what the guy could do with one hand.

He leaned against her, and she could feel his hard muscle, hot and throbbing against her core. He kissed her again, warm and wet, and she moved her thighs, this time intentionally trying to pull him closer. He let go of her wrists, and she grabbed him around the shoulders. He pulled back long enough to slide his flight suit down. He was impressive — long and wide. He came back over her and rubbed the tip against her, and she whimpered in pleasure. She brought her thighs to him, begging him to enter. An alarm blared in the back of her mind as, inch by inch, he pushed himself in, filling all of her. She could hear her girlish whimpers as if they were from someone else; all she could think was that she wanted more.

He began to move, slow and deep. She grabbed onto him harder, clawing at him, his reply a growl of raw pleasure. She wanted all of him, to touch him, to taste him. So she bit into his shoulder glistening with sweat. He replied with a growl and lunged so deep his pelvis slapped against hers. He was bigger than she could take, but he kept pushing. Mixed with equal parts pleasure and pain, she took him, wanting more and more, having lost any ability to think. When she thought she couldn’t take any more, he became faster and harder, lost in the frenzy of his need. She hazily thought he was killing her, but she didn’t care. She simply craved him too much.

She felt a strange heat grow inside her until it became a fire, burning her from the inside out, and she heard her scream when it exploded. The room became as hot as the sun, and he cried out when he came an instant later.

She lay there, motionless, while he rolled onto his side, panting and sweaty. He lowered his head to the floor next to hers, leaving an arm draped across her stomach, as if to keep her from rabbiting.

She didn’t move. She was too freaked out. She felt different, better than ever, but she also felt
him
. Like he was inside her, as if he was a part of her. She was hearing the self-destruct sequence all over again — this time, in her head.

It was terrifying.

“That was … unexpected,” he said, his voice unsteady.

She scrambled into a seating position, but he moved to remain close. She held out an arm, blocking him when he raised his fingers toward her cheek. “What the flying fuck just happened?”

He leaned back, pulled himself up to lean on an elbow, and looked into her eyes. When he spoke, the words were no more than a whisper. “You are my
tahren
.”

Her shocked expression and frozen body was reply enough.