Shadower (10 page)

"Always so impatient. Always wanting your way. Time you learned respect, boy."

Sabin's eyes narrowed to slits. "How did you get this frequency?"

"I got it from a friend of yours. Actually, I came into possession of his ship, and I got it from his communications log. What was his name? Oh, yes. Aron, I believe. Too bad about his run in with the controllers
.
"

"You sorry son of an Antek! You're lying."

"Why would I do that, Travers? Besides, I'm contacting you. How could I know this frequency if Aron hadn't…bequeathed it to me?"

Sabin rapidly entered commands on his keyboard, apparently trying to lock onto Galen's location. "So why are you contacting me, you bastard?"

"Now is that any way to talk to an old acquaintance? After all, I'm going out of my way to tell you about Aron and offer my condolences. Besides, I thought you might like to meet my new partner."

The viewscreen flashed on, showing two figures. Moriah gasped in surprise. She'd never seen the gray-haired, bearded man with pale, malevolent eyes before, but she would know Turlock anywhere.

Half-Antek, he had a large head with a partial snout and greedy, beaded eyes. She stepped back quickly so he wouldn't see her. They might even be calling from her ship that Turlock had stolen on Calt.

"Greetings, Travers," Turlock snorted. "Sorry about your buddy. I heard he died like a coward."

"You know you'll never get away with this, Galen," Sabin growled. "You'll pay for your crimes. You'll die a slow, torturous death."

"My, my. You're as bloodthirsty as my new partner here. You won't ever catch me, Travers. Now I've added two more ships to my fleet—Aron's long-range cruiser and another newly acquired spacecraft, which is a real beauty. How will you ever know what ship I'm using? And you can't track what you don't recognize. Even if you could, you'd never catch up with me. Not with that junk heap of yours," Galen leered. "Anyway, I just wanted say hello. Enjoy your evening."

The viewscreen went blank. "Damn!" Sabin roared, pounding the console. "I couldn't get a fix."  Moriah held her silence, inwardly seething. Those two cretins had
her
ship. If she ever got her hands on

Turlock, he'd pay. And Galen…the man radiated evil, so very much like Pax. She shuddered.

Gripping the edges of the console, Sabin stared at the blank screen. "Blazing hells." He dropped his head, his shoulders sagging. "Aron was a good man."

"I'm sorry," she offered, moved by his obvious misery. "Did you know him well?"

"I've known him since I was a boy. We learned to fly together. He was a good friend." He pushed to his feet. "Never know when your time will be up. Galen's time is a lot shorter than the bastard realizes." He gestured toward the entry. "Come on. Let's call it a night."

As she walked down the corridor ahead of him, Moriah realized she'd let not one, but two, golden opportunities to place a lethean patch, pass her by. If she'd had her wits about her when Sabin kissed her, she could have positioned the patch then. Or while Galen had his attention. But both times, she'd been distracted.

What was wrong with her? It was unlike her to lose focus. Sabin Travers seemed to have the ability to shake her up and cloud her reason. She couldn't allow that to happen again. She had to grab the next opportunity that presented itself.

Unfortunately, finding the right opportunity might prove difficult. She needed two conditions to succeed. Sabin would have to bare more skin, and his attention would have to be diverted. With startling clarity, the solution leaped into her mind—the one sure way to create the necessary scenario.

Seduce him.

Almost stumbling, she pressed a hand against the wall to steady herself.
No.
The very idea sent panic through her body. Her heart pounded, her breathing grew ragged. After Pax, she had sworn she would never again barter her body. She couldn't do it.
Could not do it.

Stop it!
she told herself. She
had
to do it, pride be damned and nightmare memories cast aside. Because if she didn't, if she failed, everything she'd worked so hard for could be lost. The others were depending on her. She had survived such degradation before. She could again.

She had to seduce Sabin
.

But she would be the one in control of the situation this time. Not the man. And it wouldn't be too hard to entice him. She knew how easily male lust could be incited. Sabin wanted her. The way he looked at her, the way he kissed her, clearly indicated his interest. He would be easily convinced.

She didn't have much time left, so she'd have to act quickly. She would have to seduce him tonight.

The panel slid open. Sabin stood there, silhouetted in the dim corridor lighting. He had removed his shirt, and his hair was loose. Framed by the narrow entry, he appeared taller, his powerful shoulders broader. "What is it?" he asked, stepping into the cabin. Moriah stared at his bare chest and flat belly, her throat going dry.

You can do this.
She gripped the cover tighter, keeping her right hand out of sight. One of the lethean patches was poised on her right index finger, a special adhesive holding it there. She'd have to peel off the protective plastic layer on top before placing it on Sabin. She didn't dare do that too early, or she'd risk drugging herself.

"You said on the intercom you were sick." He moved to the bunk. "What's wrong?"

"I—I have a fever." She tried to pitch her voice to a provocative whisper, but it came out a nervous rasp.

Concern etched his face. "A fever? I hope it's not a secondary infection from that Jaccian wound. Let me feel your forehead." He reached toward her.

Tossing back her hair, she took the plunge. "It's not that. Your kiss raised a mating fever inside me. Join with me."

He tensed, his hand dropping by his side. "What?" He backed away, his distrust obvious.

She licked her parched lips and dropped the cover, exposing her bare breasts. "Mate with me."

His gaze flicked downward, his eyes widening, then narrowing. "What in blazing hells are you up to?"

"I told you. I want to mate with you." She slid from under the cover and stood. "I have no weapons on me. You can search me if you wish. You seemed to enjoy having your hands on me before."

His scrutiny drifted over her naked body, his dark eyes firing like a nova. But he quickly banked his reaction and took another step back. "You don't even like the way I kiss. You made your feelings about me very clear. This is not a good idea." He held out his hand as if to ward her off. "Get back in your bunk—now."

Now what? Moriah was woefully ignorant of the tactics of seduction. Her only experience consisted of male domination. Thinking of Pax was enough to make panic rise like a tidal wave. But one thing she did remember—how a simple touch had inflamed her tormentor.

Stepping around Sabin's outstretched hand, she pressed herself against the length of his hard body. The heat of his flesh seared into her. She heard his heart thundering, felt his sharp intake of breath. She slid her hands around his neck. She only needed to peel the plastic and—

He grasped both her wrists and tugged them away. "Moriah—"

Her wrists had to be free. Acting solely on instinct, she lowered her head, kissing one flat nipple. He shuddered, but kept his grip on her arms, lowering them to her sides. "Moriah—" He gasped again, this time less forcefully.

She pressed closer, pushing her pelvis against his, feeling the proof of his response. "Don't you want me?"

"Sweet Spirit, I'd be crazy not to," he responded, his voice hoarse. "But—"

She rubbed against his erection. "Don't talk. Just do it!" she whispered desperately.

She knew she'd won when he released her wrists with a groan. She'd have to wait for just the right moment to ready the patch; she'd only get one chance. So she steeled herself for what would come next—the lust-driven, painful possession of her body, the violation of her soul. It was a price she had to pay. When Sabin was in the throes of his own greedy desire, oblivious to all else, she'd have her opportunity.

He grasped her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Do it? Sweetheart, you have no idea of the things I'd like to do with you. Hang on for the ride, lady." He startled her by swinging her into his arms and pivoting toward the bunk.

Instead of immediately dumping her there to take his pleasure, however, he captured her lips with his. Her gasp of surprise granted his tongue access to her mouth. She started to draw back, but stopped herself, lest she raise his suspicions. Besides…he tasted good and…she was beginning to like the way his tongue stroked inside her mouth.

For a moment, she allowed herself to savor the experience. Sabin was
very
good at this kissing business. He employed several techniques, boldly exploring her mouth and dueling with her tongue one moment, then withdrawing to tease her lips with tantalizing nips and just a sweet pressure against them. Then he'd plunder the sensitive inside of her mouth again. He lowered her to the bunk, breaking the contact. She murmured a protest.

"Just a moment, sweetheart," he promised. "In the meantime, hold that thought."

He stood back. With his midnight hair flowing around his shoulders, his eyes glowing like black embers, he looked like a cave dweller, primitive and wild. His molten gaze caressing her body, he opened his pants and peeled them down his muscular thighs and off.

About to thumb the plastic off the patch, Moriah froze at the sight of his nude body, her attention riveted to his erection. He was so big, so throbbing, so threatening.

Hysteria, spurred by dark remembrance, bubbled up. She tried to bolt, but he was over her, pushing her back onto the bunk. He twined his fingers with hers and pressed them into the mat above her head. She felt suffocated, trapped. Not again! She twisted and writhed beneath him. She couldn't do this.

"Whoa! Slow down, lady. What's your hurry?" He eased to his side, turning her to face him. "We'll get to it soon enough. I prefer to take my time. To savor the experience."

With his weight off her, the frenzy receded somewhat.
It's all right. This is not Pax,
she reminded herself.
Think of Celie, of the iridon shipment. You have to do this.

She willed herself to relax, lulled by Sabin's sweeping caresses over her shoulders and arms. He trailed his fingers back up her arms and beneath the curve of her breasts. Spirit! She had never realized her body could be so sensitive, that a man's touch could be so…potent.

"Beautiful," he murmured, cupping one breast and rubbing the nipple. His touch was gentle, not the painful plundering she'd expected. Her skin tingled, and she experienced the wild urge to press against his hand. Caught up in her body's response, she was only vaguely aware of him shifting their positions.

Somehow, she was on her back then, with him leaning over her, both hands inflicting exquisite torture on her breasts. But she no longer felt panic. Instead, an amazing surge of pleasure sizzled through her when he leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth. Coherent thought fled. Pure sensation flooded through her as he sucked her nipple, his fingers teasing the other breast. She could only lay there, her plans momentarily delayed.

"You taste so good," he murmured, finally lifting his head. "But I want to see the rest of you." Rising up, he slid both hands down her breasts, her abdomen, her thighs. He parted her legs wide, stroking partway up the inside, his intense focus fixed between her thighs. His hand followed his gaze, trailing fire. Surely he wasn't going there—
Oh, Spirit!
He claimed her most private flesh, caressing with a sure touch. She couldn't help herself—she moaned at the onslaught of pleasure.

"Hot and ready," he muttered hoarsely, sliding a finger inside her. Desire jolted through her with the force of a blaster. She gasped and arched, opening her legs even wider.

"Spirit, sweetheart, you're so incredibly responsive." He kissed her abdomen and then pressed kisses upward until he reached her breasts. His mouth again claimed a throbbing nipple.

Sensations inundated her from two directions now, although they seemed to flow together: from where his mouth teased her breast to where his finger moved inside her, stroking, stroking. The patch, she remembered, trying to focus. She needed to peel the cover off the patch.…

But…she couldn't…think straight. She had to gain control of this situation. "Sabin, don't," she protested, her voice sounding weak and distant.

He raised his head from her breast, his glittering eyes capturing hers. "Don't ask me to stop now, sweetheart. There's something I want to see."

She tossed her head restlessly on the pillow, torn between his darkly seductive voice and the burning need between her legs. "What?"

He pushed his finger deeper inside her, and she moaned again. "That's it," he whispered huskily. "Come for me."

She had no idea what he was talking about, or why he watched her so intently. Or how the relentless movement of his hand could render her so helpless, so incapable of anything other than pressing closer. Or give such pleasure. The patch…she needed to place the patch.…

Then he slid a second finger inside her and stroked deeper, faster. All logical thought disintegrated. She could focus only on the incredible sensations, the intense need to reach some unknown pinnacle. Of its own accord, her body arched upward.

"That's it," he urged. "Let go, Moriah."

Something shattered inside her. A wall of restraint that had held her in check crumbled beneath the assault of his sensual words, of his knowing touch. She did let go, pitching into a vortex of light and sensation. Pleasure exploded through her like a nova, and colors sparked behind her clenched eyelids. She was faintly aware of her hips lifting from the mat, of crying out, as wave after wave of shimmering tremors slammed through her body.

Finally, the swells subsided, and she sagged against the mat, nearly witless. Awareness returned gradually. She heard Sabin's low voice crooning to her as he swung himself above her. Reality lurched back into focus. How could she have let him touch her like that? How could she have
enjoyed
it?