Starlaw (17 page)

She stepped in front of him, put the palms of her hands on his chest, and stared up into his eyes. The anger eventually left, leaving only pain and regret behind. “Why didn't you just turn me over to the guards? Why were you so willing to lie on my behalf? After every offensive thing I've said to you—”

“Because you'd have been one more victim.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “After I knew I could stand in front of that stasis cell and walk away, confident he wouldn't make me destroy my life, I finally felt free. Hatred of him and what he's done doesn't own me any longer. I know he's going to get what's coming to him. For me, it's finally over.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Think about it. Think of how you feel now as opposed to how you felt when you were trying so hard to appear brave and utterly in control. You had a weapon trained on him. Regardless of how you got it, or whether it was even armed, you thought you could fire and kill him. But you made a better decision. You did what a good enforcer would do.”

She nodded in understanding. “I still want to see justice done. But I
am
in control now. He doesn't own me. I can look at him and hate him for what he's done, but he's not going to force me to do something stupid.”

“He loses. We win,” he murmured as he slowly nodded. “So how could I hold you responsible for something I'd been through myself?”

They stared at each other for a very long time. Neither spoke as minutes ticked by. Some understanding that was deeper, richer, and lasting was forged. She couldn't put a name to it, but he wasn't the fierce, unfeeling man she'd thought. He was a
hurt
man. That was quite different.

“There's something you should know,” he eventually told her in a voice that was very low and quite unlike any tone she'd heard him use before.

“Yes?”

“When we got to Earth, your friend Cory was still alive. I held him when he spoke his last words.”

Tears immediately filled her eyes. She shuddered and blinked as they fell down her cheeks.

“His last request was that I look after you. I hadn't time to respond but my personal oath to do as he asked stands. So do not think me impertinent if I seem to overstep certain boundaries. I couldn't help my family. But I can help you … if you let me,” he softly finished.

She turned away, crying in earnest now. It no longer mattered who saw how she really felt.

He gently turned her to face him again, pulled her into his embrace, and held her tightly, rocking her as if she were a small child. The warm protection offered was unbelievable. She couldn't have torn free if her life depended on it.

• • •

As moments passed, everything changed for Darius. He lifted the thick mass of sun-streaked brown hair from her shoulders and let it sift through his fingers.

She eventually gazed up at him, bearing a shattered look in her blue eyes. He couldn't help himself. Her lovely face was so close, her eyes so intense. He slowly lowered his mouth to hers and tasted her sweetness. The gentle kiss was meant to comfort, nothing more. But as she responded with fire and passion it went on and deepened. Their tongues entwined and caressed. Her hands flattened against his back, stroking and urging him on. If he'd known nothing else concerning her race, the kiss they shared was a form of intimacy with which she was obviously familiar. He savored this one as a starving man craved food.

He lowered his free hand to her hip and pulled her against him as heated blood flowed into his groin. Every drop of it engorged his cock. And when she moaned softly, the small sound turned his blood into lava. With a temperament such as hers, this woman could make love with ardor that would stop a man's heart.

Guilt tore through Darius. She was mourning, confused, and in need of comforting, not seducing. He pulled back and gently pushed her away, though doing so would leave him in painful need.

“I'd better go back to my quarters,” he softly insisted while his hand still rested on her shoulder.

“I … I guess … you'd better,” she softly agreed.

Her hand came up and she pushed his hair back. It was such a gentle gesture that he pressed his cheek into her palm. He wanted nothing more than to pull her back against his chest but this was not the way an officer behaved. Later, she might not thank him for the liberty taken while her soul was under such duress. Still, the loss of her body heat left him feeling colder and more alone than he had felt in a very long time. He slowly turned away. But when he reached the hatch and glanced back over his shoulder, he could have sworn she was about to ask him to stay. Her lovely, full red lips parted. The remains of tears were still on her cheeks. It would have taken very little for him to remain the rest of the night. He didn't give her the chance to say another word, but quickly walked out of her space.

As he strode through the passageways back to his own quarters, his heart wouldn't stop pounding. In his life, he couldn't recall experiencing such quick, all-encompassing, and uncontrollable passion. Something was connecting them. Perhaps it had to do with similar losses suffered at the hands of vamphieres. Maybe it was just fear of being alone. But where she had good reason to lose control, he did not. Though she wasn't a member of his crew there were rules concerning those taken aboard for humanitarian purposes. She definitely fell into that category. Then again, he'd broken several
other
codes this night. One had to do with actually helping her get to that stasis cell. Others circulated the lies he'd told about some idiotic drill, meant to cover her actions.

Try as he might, he felt no pangs of professional conscience. He told himself he was only helping by gaining her trust. But would he have put his career in jeopardy for anyone else in a similar situation or was it just her?

Moments after reaching his quarters, he pulled his uniform off, showered, and collapsed onto his bed. The artificial breeze supplied by the circulation system drifted across his nude body. He lay there for a while thinking he'd never get to sleep, just as he hadn't rested well since bringing the Earther aboard. But his lids soon drifted down and he utterly relaxed. Something about the evening's activities made him less anxious, more connected.

He dreamed of being back on Luster, in the sunshine. Friends and family were all there. A warm, gentle hand slid around his waist from behind and he turned to look into eyes of sapphire blue. The woman smiling up at him wasn't one of his regular female companions. She wasn't from his world at all. She was a fiery Earther, with such hot desire in her gaze that the dream soon had him bedding her in some of the most exotic positions he could have imagined.

The dream segued from one sexual fantasy to the next. They made love in the gardens surrounding his family's estate. They enjoyed wild intercourse on the back of a personal transport shuttle, stopping on the way home to address passions that couldn't wait. He took her in a warm, bubbling hot spring that dotted the forests of his world. Each and every time, she cried out loud and long, while begging for more. His orgasms were intense and enduring.

He writhed in pleasure as another fantasy filled his dream world. Sheets wrapping around his body felt more like a lover's arms. Every caress with his hands became strokes she lovingly bestowed. Over and over the scenes played out and he moaned in expectation of sweet release.

When next he woke, the sheets of his bunk were tangled around him, his body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and evidence of his last orgasm lay all over his abdomen. Even in his youth, he'd never had such a wild night.

He simply lay there panting, when another round of desire and fantasizing coursed through his body, making him hard again. He had time to enjoy the respite before rising to shower and take up duties.

Somehow, this shift was going to be different. His attitude had changed about a few things, among them the status of his personal life.

Laurel Blake hadn't survived by accident. He believed that with all his heart. She'd come into his life in a hailstorm of fire and death, rocking his world to the core in the process. And whatever happened from here on, he meant to enjoy the ride thoroughly. But not until they reached Luster. After he was on the surface of his world again, rules wouldn't apply. She'd be off his ship and he could pursue her the way his passion demanded.

A full three months later, Darius stared at the bulkhead in guilt.

Laurel hadn't approached him again, but her gaze when joining friends during meals was quite different. It was softer, more inviting. She often stared at him across the galley, when she thought no one was looking. Questions in her expressive eyes made him want to get her alone. But he could do nothing about his feelings while aboard the
Titan
. He still had a job to do and rules prohibited any fraternization. At least, they prohibited
him
from such involvements.

As the ship's highest ranking officer, he was expected to live by much more stringent regs than others. At all times, his mind must be clear, his only concern the safety of his crew. He wryly assumed that was why he was paid an almost obscene amount of credits. But remuneration didn't make up for the lack of other, more intimate pastimes. And that kiss they'd shared broke more than a few regulations.

For that reason but more because Laurel was still suffering deeply, he'd kept his distance. She needed space and time. What'd occurred between them came on so strong and suddenly that they both needed to see things for what they were. After all, neither of them could be referred to as children. They knew the score; Laurel seemed to accept it though her lovely eyes still beckoned.

His guilt in regards to her was in direct response to having hacked into the computer in Laurel's quarters. This was how he'd really known she'd eventually go after Goll, though he'd had to guess at
when
. Still, his actions were beneath contempt, certainly not worthy of a ranking League officer or renowned citizen of Luster. His only justification was in keeping her from doing something he'd so badly wanted to do himself.

Now, to have contact with her at all, he still maintained that computer vigil. Though rules allowed him to review any research made from the
Titan
's computers—and the crew knew it—he trusted his subordinates to the point he'd never made use of that statute. In Laurel's case, there really was no excuse. He was almost certain she didn't know about that tenet. Worse, Barst and Gemma kept reminding him she wasn't part of the crew. It was almost as if his two subordinates knew he was hacking and were warning him off the pastime. Of course, they
didn't
know what he did in his quarters. His guilt over the issue just made him feel as if he were being watched and judged. Like the non-fraternization edict, he had no right prying into the personal business of a non-crewmember. No excuses.

The situation was confusing. He adhered to the one rule concerning not having too much contact while completely ignoring the other concerning what she did with her research, in her assigned private quarters.

What kind of person was he to decide which regulation to obey and which to cast aside?

Still, he felt the need to know her better. Her research gave him an insight into what she viewed as important.

Among the subjects of her studies, everything about the ship seemed of high interest. Then she'd located and read information about Luster for hours and hours on end. Animal life, plant life, or anything else she could find about his home world's industry, traditions, or history was accessed. Even the kind of transportation used and who owned the companies building shuttles was investigated. He found her interest in that bit of boring trivia odd, but there was nothing illegal about it. Certainly, whatever she gleaned wasn't as inappropriate as what
he
did in regard to her computer studies.

I'm disgraceful. Utterly and irrevocably vile. What kind of man hacks a woman's computer when he practices the discipline required in keeping his distance?

He couldn't do it to her any longer. He had to end it. The best thing for him to do was throw himself into work. In that regard, a new day approached; duty called. He wouldn't look at what she studied, accessed, or read one more time. Sadly, that meant the next months were going to be long and arduous indeed.

He made his way to the bridge, considered incoming data for a full half hour, then issued orders for their next refueling stop. Given its importance in League dignitary circles, he had to keep his mind on every detail of what would otherwise have been a routine chore.

“Dock and run a complete system check as quickly as possible. I want to get off Arjus and back into open space,” he ordered, as he restlessly paced the length of the bridge.

“Yes, sir. If you have no objections, I'll run a standard check on our armament, given we're in a dangerous sector of space,” Barst said as he piloted the
Titan
toward Arjus's landing field.

Darius sighed heavily as he nodded. “Things have been too quiet. At the very least, we should have run up against some of Goll's mercenaries before reaching the second moon in this system. Either they're still plotting an attack to get him back, or they really
don't
give a giant jekari's red ass that he's incarcerated,” Darius pondered as Barst maneuvered the battleship into position for landing.

“Commander, we're receiving a general greeting from Council Leader Char,” Barst advised as he considered the communication screen in front of him.

“Put it on the main panel,” Darius commanded.

As the large, bridge vid screen activated, Darius saw the familiar, pale but humanoid face of the Council Leader as it morphed into view. He'd dealt with the man before when patrolling this quadrant.

As leaders went, Char was fair and tolerant if too indecisive about whether to deal with the League or the Warlords. As a result of such vacillation, the planet Arjus was aligned with neither faction. Ambassadors had tried to convince the ruler that the Warlords would come armed and ready to take over one day, but Char steadfastly remained neutral, playing both sides against the other.