Shadower (27 page)

He stepped to the side, out of sight of the viewer. Moriah flipped her tangled hair over her shoulder and slid into his seat, unmuting the transceiver. "Okay, Commander," she said, her voice calm. "We can talk now. I assume you want to know about the iridon."

"Absolutely. We agreed that you would stay in contact with us. When you did not, we tracked your ship to this sector. You didn't answer our hails, forcing us to get your attention with a small photon blast."

A
small
blast? Sabin resisted the urge to stalk back to the weapons console and show these arrogant Leors the damage their "small" blast had inflicted. He glared at Moriah.

She glanced askance at him, then hastily looked back at Gunnar. "I'm sorry, Commander," she murmured. "We didn't hear your hail. We were…in another part of the ship. The iridon shipment is still on schedule."

The Leors were tracking his ship, asking about an iridon shipment? Sabin suddenly remembered his conversation with Celie in the prison. She had told him then that Moriah was involved in delivering an iridon shipment to the Leors. It had to be an illegal shipment, one that every pirate in the quadrant would be trying to hijack.

Not only was Moriah a fool for attempting such a dangerous deal, but she had managed to drag him and his ship into it. He could just imagine trying to explain this to the Controllers, as they sent him to Alta for torture and execution. His anger threatened to teeter out of control.

"The shipment will be delivered to the sector I mentioned earlier, in about ten cycles," Moriah continued. "I don't know the exact location of the drop yet, but I'll contact you when I have that information."

"See that you do," Gunnar barked. "And answer our hails next time, or suffer more damage to your ship." The viewer went blank.

Sabin seethed. It was his ship, damn it! It might be a flying junk heap, but it was his. And he wouldn't tolerate any more of Moriah's shenanigans. First things first, however. Clamping his anger under control, he scanned the computer's damage report.

Fortunately, the destruction was minimal, damaging the side of one hold and causing a power outage there. The interior panel had automatically sealed to prevent decompression in the rest of the ship. Radd could repair it—if he could ever be found. The Leors had acted leniently. But Moriah wouldn't get the same from him. He spun toward her.

*  *  *  *

Moriah rose from the pilot's seat and watched Sabin review the damage. She briefly entertained the thought of fleeing the cockpit and his certain wrath, but knew there was nowhere she could hide.

She was no longer a young girl who could cower in a dark storage unit, hoping to avoid a confrontation with a drunken father. She was no longer an indentured slave, helpless to defend herself or Celie, except with sexual acquiescence. She'd learned to face adversity head on, to stand and fight. She would never again be a victim. Tensing for battle, she took a step back as Sabin advanced on her, his eyes flashing.

"What in the blazing hells do you think you're doing?" he roared. "This is
my ship
! My ship, which was just attacked and damaged because of you. Not to mention stolen by you and used to transport contraband through the quadrant.
My ship
!"

He radiated fury. An image of her father's face, twisted with drink and rage, rose in her mind. She tried to take another step back, but the wall halted her. "You didn't give me any choice in the matter. You forced me to stay on your ship."

A vein throbbed in Sabin's temple. "Because you stowed away without my permission. All you had to do was ask for help on Calt, and none of this would have happened. No, I take that back. Any involvement with you is disaster."

"I'm just trying to survive."

"Survive? By dealing with the Leors and smuggling iridon? Are you crazy? Smuggling illegal goods is not survival—it's suicide." He pressed both hands to the wall on either side of her head. "Have you ever stopped to consider the consequences should you fail or get caught by the authorities?"

She raised her chin. "I can take care of myself."

He leaned closer, his breath warm on her face. "You may think you're tough, but you're not, lady. Believe me, either failure or capture will result in your death—but not right away. The Leors have been known to torture their enemies for days before execution. So have the Controllers. And if the Anteks ever got their claws on your sweet hide, they'd make Pax's assaults look like an enjoyable interlude in a Pleasure Dome."

He managed to target the very fears that plagued her in the darkest moments of the night. She knew the risks, but she had no choice. Celie and the others on Risa depended on her. "We all do what we have to."

His jaw clenching, Sabin grabbed her shoulders. "What does it take to get through to you?"

Her chest tightened. Threats, physical force—the old pattern. "You don't need to concern yourself. This has nothing to do with you."

Releasing her abruptly, he stepped back and raked a hand though his hair. "Oh, I see. We're not really together on my ship and a Leor battle cruiser didn't just attack us."

"We weren't attacked. Just contacted."

He rolled his eyes and fell against the wall, banging his head back in abject frustration. Rubbing her arms, Moriah sidled away. The heat of the moment eased, and reality intruded. He knew about the iridon shipment. Even though he didn't know the exact sector in which the drop would be made, he could disrupt her plans considerably.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

He sighed heavily and banged his head again. "Damned if I know." He drew several deep breaths. His fists relaxed, and the tension seemed to leave his body. He swept her with an assessing look and said with some exasperation, "I may be angry, but I'm not going to hit you or force myself on you, if that's what you're worried about."

His blunt words surprised her. Then an amazing realization came to her. She believed him. That knowledge shook her to the core.
She believed him
He was obnoxious, belligerent, and maddeningly unyielding, but he had yet to hurt her. Not even in the throes of rage—and he had been furious with her on several occasions. Yet not once had he harmed her, although he'd had ample opportunity.

With another jolt, she knew,
really knew,
Sabin Travers was a man of his word. She was safe with him. The pressure in her chest eased. Her trepidation dissolved. She felt oddly lighthearted. But the adrenaline remained, heightening her senses, pulsing into an altogether different reaction.

Staring into his midnight eyes, she remembered the feel of his lips against hers, his touch branding her body. Despite the dire warnings about males from her friends on Risa, despite her own bitterness, she wanted to again experience the passion and pleasure he had shown her.

Her breathing and heart rate accelerated, a molten rush of desire flooding her body. His earlier, heated words echoed in her mind.
"Take me. Do what you want, sweetheart…Whatever
you
want."

What she wanted was to be free of Pax's legacy, no longer bound by crippling memories. To find nirvana, no matter how fleeting, in Sabin's arms. Taking a chance, she leaped into the Abyss. "It wouldn't be force," she whispered.

His eyes narrowing, he stepped toward her. "What?" Placing both hands on his chest, she pushed him against the wall. He grabbed her wrists. "Moriah—"

The protest died abruptly when she pressed a kiss against his bare chest. His heart thundered beneath her mouth. "I said," she murmured, running her tongue over his nipple, "it won't be against my will."

He went very still. "I think I'm hallucinating."

She pulled her hands free and slid them to his shoulders, pressing herself against him. "Does this feel real?"

He groaned. "You're making it very hard for me to stay mad."

"Doesn't this feel good?"

He raised his arms, hesitated. "Ah, what's the use?" he muttered, wrapping his arms around her. "Feels like I've died and gone to Haven."

"Take me with you," she whispered.

His hands slid up, cupping her face. His jet-black eyes locked with hers, delving into her soul—probing, searching, seeking out her innermost secrets. "Tell me," he ordered softly. "Tell me exactly what you want."

Her heart hammered in her chest. She had no experience with mating games, didn't know how to communicate with a lover. She bit her lip, wanting this, but daunted by the intimacy he demanded.

"Tell me, Moriah. No games, no secrets, between us."

No, she didn't want anything between them. No barriers, no clothing. Only flesh to flesh. "I want you to touch me," she whispered. "I want the pleasure you gave me in my cabin. I want to mate with you."

His eyes darkened. "That's good," he murmured hoarsely. "Because I want the same thing."

He ran a finger along the seam of her flightsuit, then beneath it, sliding it open. Slowly, he eased the fabric from her shoulders. Cool air rushed over her, but his heated perusal of her body made her skin feel like it had been seared by a laser. His fingers teased one breast, circling the nipple lightly.

"Sabin," she groaned, trying to press against his hand.

He glanced up, his intense gaze paralyzing her. His hand closed over her breast, kneading, caressing, giving her the contact she craved. But it was her face he watched, passion sparking in his eyes as he observed her reaction. Cupping the back of her head with his other hand, anchoring his fingers in her hair, he dragged her against him. His mouth settled over hers, deliberate, determined. He kissed her hard, letting her taste his need.

His hand slid from her breast to her back, slipping beneath her flightsuit and cupping her buttocks to mold her tighter against him. Surprisingly, she welcomed his aggression, welcomed the feel of his body. This wasn't the painful hold of force, but the embrace of mutual desire—desire that spiraled out of control when his fingers slid between her legs. His intimate touch sent shockwaves through her lower body, sensations so intense, she trembled.

When her legs gave out, he swung her into his arms and carried her to his bunk. He stripped away her suit, then his pants, coming down on the mat beside her. He launched an all-out seduction then, kissing and caressing his way down her body. His hair trailed over her skin, a silken whisper of sensation. Even in the throes of passion, she sensed the care he took with her, felt the tenderness of his touch.

Parting her thighs, he slid his hands upward with excruciating slowness, causing her to tense in expectation. His fingers found her feminine flesh, claimed her with searing intimacy. Coherent thought fled beneath the onslaught of pleasure.

Need, frantic and sharp, pounded through her veins, filling every cell, sparking in her lower body. She inhaled Sabin's intoxicating, masculine scent. Every sense seemed acutely attuned to him, to the feel of his skin beneath her hands, the taste of his mouth. She opened herself completely to his touch, tension beginning to coil within her.

She was poised on the brink of shattering into a billion atoms, but he refused to give her that experience. He tore his mouth from hers, his breathing harsh. "Sweetheart, lift yourself over me."

She levered up on her elbow, trying to find equilibrium and a semblance of control. Throwing him a challenging glance, she lowered her mouth to his chest and pressed kisses over it. "I thought I was calling the shots," she murmured. "You said I was in charge."

"That's fine unless I die first," he groaned. She laughed, intoxicated by her sensual power, and slid over him. "Lift up a little," he instructed. "I'll help you."

She was poised above him, about to enter territory that had been dark and terrifying the other times she'd been there. She hesitated, uncertainty and fear flaring. "Moriah. Look at me." Panic beginning to edge out passion, she met his discerning gaze. Understanding and compassion burned in his eyes. "It's me—Sabin. Focus on
me
."

This is Sabin
, she told herself
.
His hands on her hips gently urged her down. She braced her hands against his shoulders as he slowly pushed upward. Dark memories eclipsed the pleasure. Panic reared and she tensed.

"Stay with me, sweetheart."

She forced air into her lungs, and he filled her completely. Clenching her eyes shut, she tried to push away the memories.

"Look at me, Moriah."

She willed her eyes open, looked into black, molten orbs that mesmerized, commanded.
This is Sabin. Not Pax. Sabin.

"You're beautiful," he told her hoarsely. "So beautiful. I need you. Stay with me."

His words flowed over her like a healing balm. The tightness around her heart eased, and she moved with the urging of his hands. She felt no pain. Just fullness and the beckoning of pleasure. His hands slid over her, caressing, comforting, tantalizing. She found herself moving freely now, found her inner muscles tightening, anticipating.

He stroked between her legs, unerringly finding the sensitive nub there. Sensation streaked through her every nerve ending. Her eyes closing, she threw back her head. "No. Focus on me, Moriah."

Slowly, she opened her eyes again, met his heated gaze. He kept stroking, until the need for completion became overwhelming, until her movements matched his. An exhilarating sense of freedom buoyed her. All else faded except sensation and Sabin's face, his glittering eyes, his husky encouragement.
This is Sabin.

"Let go, Moriah. Fly with me."

Oh, Spirit, she was coming apart, exploding into particles, hurtling through space. She cried out, rocked by tremor after tremor, and then felt him surge beneath her with his own hoarse cry. Buffeted until all energy was depleted, every muscle weak, she collapsed on him.

They lay that way awhile, their labored breathing the only sound in the room. Finally he shifted, sliding her to his side. He cradled her against him, tucking her head beneath his chin. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

She felt like she'd been hit with a stunner, although her body tingled with pleasurable aftershocks. An emotional tumult raged within. The dark chains of shame seemed to burst and fall away. She felt joyous, free, somehow cleansed.