Phantom of the Wind (6 page)

“Where’d she go anyway?” he asked Parks.

“I don’t know, Milord. She spends a lot of time with Counselor Innis,” Parks replied.

“Gerraint Innis?” Quinn growled.

“Aye, Milord. He’s been on the
Sláinte
for about a year now. Do you know him?”

“Is it him she’s seeing?”

Parks shrugged. “Milord, I don’t believe she’s seeing anyone. If she is, she’s kept it to herself.”

A muscle began to tick in Quinn’s jaw. “Go get that wench and tell her I am hurting.” He knew it was a sure-fire way to get her ass back with him.

“I can give you something—”

“Go get her!” The command was not to be ignored.

“Aye, Milord!” Parks agreed, and made a hasty retreat.

“Primä One?” Quinn called out. He knew the ‘bots were in the room with him and when the one he’d spoken to geared up and came lumbering over, its heavy treads shaking the floor, he could feel the jolts in his throbbing knee. He clenched his teeth to keep the pain at bay.

“I am here,” the mechanical voice of the cybot thundered from its metal chest.

Quinn looked up at the menacing automaton hovering over him. “Has she found Aleyn Kaneen yet?”

“She has not.”

Quinn squeezed his eyes shut. “Thank you, Primä One.”

The ‘bot bowed just a little then began walking backward, its plodding steps bringing more pain to Quinn’s shattered knees.

“You hurt me real bad, ‘bot,” he whispered and the AIU stopped in mid step.

“
S’doogh lhiam, Chiarn Scaan,
” the cybot said softly.

Kendall heard the ‘bot address Quinn as Lord Ghost and tell him it was sorry as she came back into sick bay. She glanced at the fear-provoking machine for a moment and flinched when it continued walking backward until it was even with its partner where it appeared to shut down. She shivered. Such creations bothered her and the hulking ones in the room with her were more terrifying than others she’d seen. The red eyes glowed at her as though it could read her thoughts.

“What did you want?” she asked Quinn in a sharper voice than she intended.

“I hurt,” he said.

Hearing him admit to such a thing surprised Kendall. He had to be in a great deal of pain for him to do so.

“I can’t let you up if that’s what you’re angling for,” she told him. “You must remain perfectly still so the unit can align the bones properly. If not, you could be a cripple for…” she stopped, realizing what she had been about to say.

“Until they hang me?” he asked.

“They’ll do more than hang you, Quinn,” she said, feeling tears gathering in her eyes.

“Well, it’s been a long time since they had a good, old-fashioned public spectacle. I’ll see what I can do to accommodate the High Council.”

“It’s not a joking matter!” she shouted. She came over to the unit to stare down at him.

“Do you see me laughing?” he asked. “Just be a good little healer and give me something for the pain.”

“Who’s going to give you something when they start in on you on Riezell, Quinn?”

He gave her a pleading look. “Please, Kendall?” he asked. “If you want me to beg you, I will, but just give me something to knock the edge off. My knees are killing me.”

The pain had to be excruciating for him to show such weakness to her. She turned and walked over to a cabinet and withdrew a vial of tenerse—thought better of her choice—and plucked a vial of pairilis up instead along with a vac-syringe. She drew up the payload and brought it over to the unit. The cannula was still in Quinn’s carotid so she injected the strong narcotic into his neck.

“Sweet Merciful Alel,” he gasped. “What the hell did you give me, wench?”

“Aye, I know it burns, but not as bad as tenerse would have, so be thankful I chose the lesser of two fiery drugs.”

“Fiery drug my hairy Cengusian ass!” he said, dragging in breaths. “That stuff is an inferno!”

“You don’t have a hairy ass unless you’ve started shaving it since last I saw it,” she quipped. Stepping back and looking at his backside that pressed against the sheet of the sled, she snorted. “Nope, no hairy ass there, Phantom.”

The drug was taking immediate effect and he was beginning to float away on a fine membrane of cool, dry air. Kendall’s face wavered for a moment and he thought she had never looked so lovely.

“Who are you seeing now, wench?” he asked pleasantly.

“It’s none of your business who I’m seeing,” she told him, unable to stop herself from laying a hand on his brow to push aside the damp black curls that fell over his forehead.

“Tell me,” he said.

“You don’t have the right to ask.”

The last thing Quinn remembered was her soft, sweet hand stroking his brow gently, possessively, and there was a slight smile on his face as he went under.

* * * * *

He was back beneath the waterfall, his soapy hands in Kendall’s long red tresses. Washing her hair was a treat for him and some of the silky strands clung lovingly to his forearm as the streaming water rinsed the suds away. The scent of lemon drove him wild for her, his flesh straining toward her nest of fiery red curls.

“You are a satyr, Phantom,” she teased, looking down at his erection.

“And you are a veritable goddess stepped down from the vault of heaven,” he replied in his thick Cengusian brogue. He gathered the weight of her thick hair in his hands and pushed it to lie down her back.

It had been three months since he’d taken possession of her maidenhead and branded her his own. He remembered that day as clearly as if it had been that morning. She had graced him with the most precious of gifts and that was something he did not take lightly. She was his and he intended it stay that way.

“How was the last run?” he asked.

The war between the Coalition and the Alliance was gearing down at last. There had been far too much bloodshed, too many widows made and orphans left, destruction spread across a wide swath of territories. At last, peace was being negotiated though there were still skirmishes going on. Kendall’s ship the
Sláinte
was one of four med evac ships flying under immunity from both sides of the conflict, taking care of the wounded no matter the side for which the injured fought.

“Fewer casualties this time out,” she told him as he gathered her to him. “I’ve got a two-week leave this time.” She wriggled against him. “Let’s make the most of it, Phantom.”

He slid his hands down her back to cup her shapely buttocks. “How’d you like to take a ride aboard the
Lhong Shee
?”

Kendall’s eyes flared. “Your ship? The one they call the ghost ship?”

“The one and the same. We can fly over to the Green Sector,” he suggested. “I’m itching to show you the volcanoes on Seabhac from orbit.” He frowned. “I wish I could take you to the rain forest on Theristes but the planet’s suddenly off-limits and Réalta Madra is too far out.”

“Why is Theristes off-limits?” she asked.

He cocked a shoulder. “Don’t know but we aren’t even allowed to do fly-overs. Must be a secret base there the Burgon doesn’t want us to see.”

“Do you think there is any truth to the rumor of him releasing his concubines?” she asked.

“Aye, I heard it said he did, and even gave his second wife a choice of whether she wanted to stay with him or go,” he replied as he lowered his head to the sweet indention at the side of her neck.

“Did she take it?”

“I guess she didn’t like sharing him with wife number one for she did indeed go.”

“So he only has the one wife now,” she said. “I never thought to see it happen.”

Quinn lifted her against him. “Pay attention to me, wench, not the Burgon’s affairs.” He slid his shaft between her thighs. “He needs consideration, he does.”

The heat and size of his rod pushed all other thoughts out of Kendall’s mind. She put her arms around his neck and—with his help—lifted herself up and onto the thickness of his cock, sliding down gently.

“Now that’s more like it,
Lhiannan
,” he said.

With the rush of the water cascading over them, he walked her to the smooth stone wall of the canyon and sat her on a small natural shelf carved from years of tumbling falls. With his psychically enhanced abilities he knew many a lover had perched his lady there for just the sort of activity the Phantom had in mind. The shelf was at just the right height for a man of his size to pleasure his woman without undue strain on either his legs or neck. Though Kendall’s legs were wrapped tightly around him and her arms were around his neck, he could thrust upward easily, filling her to the very core with his steely erection.

His tongue slid against hers as his cock eased into her sheath. He drove deep into the moist sweetness of her mouth just as his rod pushed strongly against her womb. He set the rhythm—an easy, slow in and out glide. There was no hurry for they had the entire day.

Kendal threaded her hands through the heavy, wet curls of his hair to anchor his head, taking as much pleasure from his tongue as she did from his shaft. She suckled his tongue, flicked her own around the contours of his mouth, reveling in both impalements that made her blood hot and her juices thick.

Quinn increased the tempo of his thrusts, his hips pushing against hers. He could feel her legs tightening with even more strength around his waist. Pulling his hands free of her buttocks for she had been sitting on his palms, he slid them up her back and jerked her closer to him, tearing his mouth from hers to plant a kiss at the hollow of her throat. With one arm like an iron band around her, he used his other hand to mold her breast, caressing it, stroking its peak until he could lower his mouth to the burgeoning tip to suckle it.

Pulled back from the wall enough to let her head fall back, Kendall rode him with all the joy and abandonment he could sense in her soul. She was his and he was hers. They were merely sealing the bargain again. His mouth drawing upon her nipple, she was milking him with the tight folds of her channel.

He drove thrust after heated, slippery thrust into his lady until the rhythm grew quicker, the force harder and the need one long, desperate desire. With the water falling all around them—foam boiling at Quinn’s feet—he took her to the very heights of passion and placed her there for a moment before they both plummeted over the edge, their mingled cries of satiation echoing among the rocks.

For a long while Quinn stood there with his head pillowed on her breast, still coupled to her, afraid to breathe too deeply lest he pull out of her sweet, warm sheath. Her hands were in his hair, stroking him, running over his shoulders. With a groan, he finally slid out of her. Sliding his hands under her rump once more, he lifted her from the shelf and took her out beneath the canopy of the falls. He let her ease down his body until she was standing before him under the water.

“Still want to take me on the
Lhong Shee
?” she asked.

“Still wanna go?” he countered.

“Aye, Phantom. I do.”

Less than an hour later they were dressed and he was leading her down the mountain to the valley where the flagship of his privateering empire was hidden, cloaked with pilfered Amazeen technology so that no one flying overhead could spot the vessel.

Kendall stood looking at the empty valley. “It’s really there?” she asked.

“Aye, wench,” he said. “It’s really there.” He tugged at her hand. “Come on.”

He walked her right up to the ship, took her hand in his and then laid her palm against the cool surface of the wing. Grinning at her look of surprise, he rapped five times on the wing and the ship began to fade into view.

“Oh my,” Kendall whispered as the pale gray hull of the
Lhong Shee
revealed itself.

The gangway opened and he escorted her up into the ship, his hand at the small of her back. Inside, the ship was layered in darkness, the corridor ahead of them in deep shadow.

“Where is your crew?” she asked.

“They’re here,” he said. “You just can’t see them.”

She believed each member of his infamous crews was
Scaanagh
—a race of beings with many paranormal abilities. One of those abilities gave them the facility to make themselves invisible. Being a phantom—a ghost—had many advantages. Not even the most sophisticated scanners could pick up a
Scaanagh
body-heat signature.

“Can you teach me to be invisible?” she asked.

Quinn laughed. “I’m afraid not, wench. You are not a warrior.”

“They don’t let women in?” she asked, her stare militant.

“Aye, they let them in, but they’ve got to be gods-be-damned good at a variety of warrior skills in order to join the Order of Taibhse,” he reminded her. “Besides, you can’t actually become invisible unless you’re of the Tribe. We just teach full-fledged members of the Order how to appear as though they’re invisible.”

Kendall’s lower lip thrust out in a pout as he took her hand and led her down the shadowy corridors. He watched her as she surveyed everything they passed, missing nothing. He knew there would be little on the
Lhong Shee
she had seen on other ships.
Scaanagh
vessels were unlike any others in the megaverse.