Dark Minds (Class 5 Series Book 3) (17 page)

She admired him for making it sound voluntary. It helped her to answer with a steady voice. “My grandmother and my sister.”

“I'm sorry.” His eyes told her he knew what it cost her. “The Tecran will pay for your loss.”

She tilted her head. “It sort of sounded like you meant physically pay, as in money, or did you mean with imprisonment?”

“Those who issued the orders, they'll be imprisoned. But the Tecran nation will be fined, and I am sure the United Council will make sure you, Fiona and Rose receive a fair share of it. Enough to make you comfortable for the rest of your lives.”

That eased her mind, ridiculous as it seemed, given she didn't know if she'd be alive in ten hours time. But having visible means of support was a good thing. It would give her a freedom and a control she hadn't had since she'd been snatched.

“So I won't have to sing for my supper?” She was joking, but he frowned.

“We would never force you. I hope you understand I only ordered you to sing earlier because I couldn't hold the Vanad and his crew off alone.”

She didn't reply. She could have told him she understood all that, that she hadn't been serious, but what he said eased something else inside her. She didn't have to be a performing monkey anymore.

“That said . . .” He looked away from her, uncomfortable. “I hope you will sing. That you will gift us with your music.”

“If it means that much to you, I would be happy to.”

He didn't smile, the look on his face serious. “Now?”

She choked out a laugh, sure he was joking, but when he kept staring at her, calm and patient, she blew out a breath.

“The thing is . . .” She paused, tried to sort out why she felt so reluctant. It came back to him, personally, not singing for an audience. She sang every day in front of classes of sometimes hostile children, she had no performance anxiety to speak of.

He waited.

“The thing is, I like you, and I don't want to see that 'I am not worthy' look in your eye. I don't want to be some untouchable figure in your mind. I want to be myself.”

She tried not to cringe at how much she was exposing, especially after months of being as closed off as a vault, but she wanted him to understand. He was the only connection she'd made to anyone beside Paxe, and she would not risk losing it.

He'd watched her carefully as she spoke, but now he tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling for a beat. “You want me to enjoy your singing as if it was an everyday thing. Just part of who you are?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

“I don't know if that's possible.”

It wasn't what she hoped to hear. “Try.”

He chuckled. “I'm perfectly willing to try.”

“No goo-goo eyes.”

This time he laughed. “I promise.”

She smiled back, then settled back against the wall.

“Well?” He leaned back himself.

She frowned. “You weren't joking about singing now?”

“I wasn't joking.” He looked uncertain, though, as if he was unsure if he was asking too much of her.

That needed to change.

This idea that singing was some big production, some sacred rite.

And the only way to show him it was humdrum was to do it often.

She sighed. She wanted something soft and easy. She sorted through the songs in her head and came up with something slow and melodic by Suzanne Vega.

He couldn't know what she sang about, but as she watched him she knew she had chosen the song more deliberately than she'd initially admitted to herself.

He was the first person she'd met in the last two months she could imagine a romantic relationship with, and that alone should give her pause, make her wary.

It could be loneliness, even desperation talking, rather than true attraction, but the way her heart fluttered as he shifted to a more comfortable position, muscles rippling, the scent of him filling the space around her, the warmth of his leg pressing against her own in the tight confines of their metal tube, she didn't care as much as she probably should.

She sang the last note, holding on to the longing, the yearning for unrequited passion imbued in the very fabric of the song.

Kalor looked over at her.

“I said no goo-goo eyes.” She didn't mean to whisper, to sound so betrayed, but if he put her on a pedestal she knew she would have no chance with him. And that's all she wanted.

A chance.

Like a normal person. A person who maybe ended up with someone they were attracted to, maybe not. But it didn't hang on the fact that she'd been kept prisoner, or was considered some kind of goddess singer.

“No goo-goo eyes,” he said, but there was a catch to his voice, and she knew he was lying.

C
am had tried
to look unaffected, but Imogen had seen through him.

He didn't see it as a failure on his part, because he didn't think there was a Grih alive who could have pretended not to be moved, but he was sorry about the result.

She hadn't sung for him again, leaning quietly against the drone's wall and eventually crawling back to the padded area where she'd been strapped in.

He hunched over his knees, sitting close enough to touch her head, uncomfortable, rattled, and confused.

And it wasn't their unknown destination that had him jumpy.

It was her. And the song she had sung.

Grihan music-makers were rare, and when they sang, it was on important occasions. The start of a new year. The opening of parliament. The milestones of the Grih nation.

Beguiling was not how he would describe any Grihan song. But beguiling was what her song had been. He'd felt the prickle of hairs rising at the back of his neck and along his arms, the well of desire rising up within him.

Sex and song. It was a completely addictive combination, and such a startling notion, he'd slipped up and forgotten to put his chief investigator expression on in time.

He looked over at her again, frowned and looked closer.

“Are you cold?” He'd seen her rub her arms a few times, had thought it was an unconscious gesture, but now she was shivering a little.

The temperature was another thing he couldn't control in here, something or someone else had all the reins, and he didn't think there was anything he could put over her to warm her up. This drone was designed for soldiers with smart fabric suits.

“Yes.” She hunched a little.

He hesitated for a moment, fighting himself, then slid down, forcing her to edge to one side of the padded mattress. He pulled her back against his chest, tucking her in close with an arm draped over her waist.

“Better?”

She nodded, and then relaxed against him. “Thank you.”

“I didn't mean the goo-goo eyes.”

“Really?” Her words were dry, and he smiled into her smooth, smooth hair.

“All right, I did. But I didn't want you to know about it.”

She sighed, and he felt her delicate ribcage expand under his hand. He resisted the strong urge to move his arm up just a little and brush the underside of her breasts.

They were intriguingly large, much larger than Grihan women had, and he wanted to find out how they felt.

He resisted the temptation.

“It seems a little late to be asking you this, given our current position, but I never caught your first name. I just don't think I can keep thinking of you as Captain Kalor anymore.”

He choked back a laugh. “I can see that. My name is Camlar, but everyone calls me Cam.”

“Okay.” She turned in his arms, tilting her head to look up at him.

He would not have moved, would not have done anything else, if she hadn't wriggled closer.

The press of her breasts against his chest was delicious, and he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. She gave a sigh of pleasure and slanted her mouth over his, taking the kiss deeper.

He didn't know how long they kissed for, long enough for his need to touch her to become overwhelming.

His hands were gripping her waist, and he ran them upward, pushing up her shirt as he did. Her breasts were encased in some thick, stretchy fabric, and he broke off the kiss so he could lift the shirt up over them.

She raised her arms, and he pulled everything off in one motion and then looked down at her.

She was magnificent.

He ran a hand over one breast, delighting in the plump feel of it, the weight and the smoothness.

He lifted his head and found her looking at him with a mischievous grin.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing, except you're such a guy, and that is more comforting than you can possibly imagine.”

He cocked his head. “You mean, unlike your singing, you're used to adoration when it comes to your body?”

She chuckled. “I can work with adoration.”

He brushed a finger over the tip of a rose pink nipple and she arched a little into his hand.

“I tell you what.” She was satisfyingly breathless. “When it comes to this,” she waved her hand between them, “I'll forgive your adoration, if you'll forgive mine.”

Cam bent his head and ran his tongue where his finger had just been. Might as well give her a lot to forgive.

* * *

C
am sensed
the moment Imogen slipped into sleep.

They had dressed again after making love, readying themselves for their mystery destination.

He tried to work out why he felt both guilty and defiant that he'd crossed the line from protector to lover.

She was a rare, special find, a person of massive importance both in their case against the Tecran in the UC courts, but also for the United Council as a whole. A new advanced sentient with a wealth of cultural and technological information to share with them.

She was part of his case, his job. The reason he was out here at all.

And what he was doing now would probably get him kicked out of not just the Investigative Unit, but Battle Center itself.

And then he remembered the way she sang to him, the heat in her eyes, seduction in her voice, and he held her just a little tighter.

Let the recriminations fall where they may. He was keeping her.

* * *

S
he woke up cold again
, wishing for the warmth of Cam curled around her. She'd had the first real sleep she could remember since she'd been taken.

She yawned and then twisted onto her stomach, found him watching her from the control panel, alert and serious.

He always seemed so serious.

“Trouble?” she asked, clearing her throat at the way the word caught, thick and raspy.

“We're almost at our destination.” He waved at the screen. “But all I can see is deep space.”

Ah. So the black wasn't a non-working screen. It was a screen showing nothing.

She stretched and then crawled up to join him, happy when he handed her a cup of grinabo and made space for her to fit under his arm. Rested his chin affectionately on the top of her head.

“You're worried?” he asked as she sipped in contented silence.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because Paxe put us in this.”

“You think he would keep you safe. I agree with that, but he wasn't in control of everything. He may have put us in this because it was the only thing the Tecran couldn't shoot when we left the launch bay and he just hoped for the best.”

She took another sip. “True. But if he could make me safe, he would. And if he couldn't, there is nothing we can do about it. If we hadn't got in here, we'd have taken another runner and been shot. So we've won an extra ten hours of life.”

He gave her a strange look. “That's one way to look at it.”

“You want us to be armed when we get to our mysterious destination.” She didn't bother to make it a question.

“I think that would be best.”

“Do we still have my whip?”

“Down the bottom, in the weapons locker with the shockgun I took off the Tecran.”

Something in her relaxed. Just because she believed in taking things as they came didn't mean she would mind a bit of protection. And the whip hadn't let her down yet. “Good.”

“It's quite something.”

“Did you use it?” She'd wondered how he'd gotten them out carrying her and shooting at two Tecran soldiers.

“I tried. It only works for you. In the end I put it in your hand and used it.”

She frowned at that. “How would it know who was holding it, though?”

He shrugged. “Bio-imprint, maybe. Fingerprints or a type of bio chemical reading. I don't know.”

That was . . . intriguing. And really great that the whip couldn't be used against her. She opened her mouth to say so, and then closed it with a snap.

Cam had leaned away from her, eyes on the controls.

“What is it?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Either we've found Paxe again, or . . .”

She shuffled into the space he made for her, and looked for herself. There was a Class 5 hanging in front of them, and they were headed straight for it.

It was more than possible that Paxe had set them on a course and then flown off to evade the Tecran and doubled back to meet up with them, but . . .

“If it's Paxe, surely he'd have tried to communicate with us before now?” Suddenly, her
que sera sera
attitude didn't seem to be quite so wise.

“Unless the Tecran have won.” Cam sent her a quick look, as if to see how she'd react to that.

“I don't think——” There was the faintest thump, as if something soft and light had bumped against them, and then Imogen threw herself backward as the bloated face of a Tecran soldier hit the outside lens.

Cam edged her completely out of the way, blocking her view, his features more curious than anything. He turned to her. “Judging by the number of bodies out there, I'm guessing whoever's in charge of that Class 5, it isn't the Tecran.”