CHAPTER FIVE
While he was gone, she had two quick visits from Opherra’s henchmen, who checked the security of her ankle cuff and left without saying anything. Miriell decided to leave herself chained to the bed after the second visit, afraid she might be taken by surprise and ruin whatever Conor was trying to accomplish. Even if all he was attempting was to improve her life for a few days, she was grateful and she’d take the break in her routine. She had no wish to bring trouble to him.
She heard the door open for the third time, but Conor’s voice was reassuring as he called a greeting to her. He walked into the bedroom, taking off his jacket and pausing for a moment as he took in her fastened shackles. “Company?”
“Twice.”
“No one touched you, did they? I made it crystal clear you were not to be molested.”
“Neither of them said even one word to me, just checked the cuff and left.”
“Good. I’m going to take a shower. We’ve got to accompany Opherra tonight, so Tamlu will be here in a few minutes to get you dressed and made up.”
“Will I be targeting Bazin again?” She surprised herself by asking a question. Usually, she stayed stubbornly silent with those who held her in chains, outwardly uncaring about their uses for her power. But we have a truce, Conor and I. The idea was pleasing.
“No, Opherra has a standing dinner appointment with the various heads of her operations once a quarter. It’s part business meeting, part team building, part she’s a queen and her underlings better goddamn worship her. Kiss the ground she walks on. She gets off on that.” He disappeared into the bathroom.
Although surprised he’d make the scornful observation where Opherra’s listening devices could overhear, Miriell wondered why her presence was required at the meeting if all the participants were already under the crime boss’s thumb.
As if he’d heard her inner musing, Conor stuck his head out the bathroom door. “She wants you to assess the key people, see if any of them are less than loyal. You can scan them, right?”
Miriell nodded. “But my power is still low.”
“Oh, you’ll like this restaurant, I promise.” He disappeared from view without explaining the odd remark, and a moment later, she heard the water running.
“Hello?”
It was Tamlu’s voice, coming from the sitting room.
“In here,” Miriell said. She almost unlocked the ankle cuff before remembering Tamlu wasn’t a person to be trusted.
“Well, you’ve certainly improved your situation. Sleeping in Conor’s bed now, better than the cold couch all alone, I’m sure.” Tamlu winked. She dumped the armful of dresses onto the end of the bed. “I need you in a chair to do your makeup.”
Miriell raised her leg enough to make the chain visible.
“Seven hells.” Tamlu pounded on the bathroom door. “I need her on the loose so I can get her ready.”
Conor emerged from the steamy room a moment later, a towel loosely wrapped around his hips. “Sorry.” He bent over the cuffs, hiding his actions from Tamlu with his body, and the restraint opened smoothly, even though he had no key. He gave Miriell a conspiratorial wink. The towel slipped, and before he caught it, Miriell caught a glimpse of his impressive thigh muscles and long, thick cock. Desire pulsed deep inside her as she remembered the feel of his arousal against her belly last night, but she pushed the thought away. Rising from the bed, she stretched to unkink her muscles and then walked to the chair Tamlu indicated.
“Maybe I won’t have so many bruises to cover up now that your creepy controller is out of the picture,” Tamlu said, picking up an applicator. “Unless you and Conor get too into each other, like to play rough.”
“It isn’t like that.” Miriell bit her lip, annoyed at getting drawn into a discussion. Conor could defend himself if he felt the need.
Tamlu didn’t say anything else, concentrating on finishing the elaborate makeup. Then she went to study the dresses she’d brought. Conor came into the room while she was debating. Leaning on the door, he said, “Why don’t you let her pick? She’s not some doll you get to play dress-up with, you know.”
“I didn’t think she cared.” Blushing, the assistant pivoted to where Miriell sat. “All right, you choose, then. The black, the yellow or the white and green?”
Miriell shook her head. Ignoring Tamlu, she addressed Conor. “And if I decide to wear my gray tunic and leggings from Devir 6, rather than some bespangled castoff from Opherra’s closet, will my selection be all right?”
Brow furrowed, he shot her an exasperated glance. “No, it’s a formal dinner.” He gestured at himself, attired in another obviously expensive suit. “We have to fit in.”
“Then it doesn’t matter what I think, does it? I’m not making my own choices, not even whether to go to dinner or not, in fact.” She shrugged. “Still a prisoner.” Make it clear to gossipy Tamlu that I know my status hasn’t changed.
Frowning, Tamlu looked at them and then went to the chair and picked up the black gown. “Guess we’ve settled the issue. Here, this one will go best with his suit. And it clashes the least with the hideous necklace you always wear.”
Miriell allowed the woman to help her dress, while Conor retreated to the bedroom. Paradoxically, she appreciated his discretion, not lingering to watch as she stripped and dressed in the elaborate, lacy, black, boned underwear required to make the gown fit properly. Thinking of his eyes on her as she dressed or undressed made her want to press her thighs together to stop the delicious sensations building there. Will he ever make a move toward me, despite his scruples? Would I welcome his advances? Miriell admitted to herself she would. Conor attracted her in many ways, not to discount his kindness or his appearance. He re-entered the bedroom as she was sliding on the shoes and picked up a shawl to drape over her shoulders.
“We’ll be late if we don’t hit the gravlift now,” he said, taking her by the elbow. “Thanks, Tamlu.”
“Have fun, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She started cleaning up the makeup table.
When they reached the lobby, there was no sign of Opherra. One of the other Amarotu soldiers, whom Miriell recognized as one who had checked on her earlier in the day, waited by the pillar where the group usually convened to wait for the boss. She shivered a little, realizing that the last time she’d stood there, it had been with Jareck. And now he was dead, his presence erased as easily as if he’d never been, apparently.
“Where’s the boss lady?” Conor asked.
“Not coming. She decided to take care of something else, so she told me you’re in charge and to give her a full report later.”
“All right, let’s get going, then.” Conor took Miriell by the elbow and headed outside to the groundcar.
“Is that usual? For her to skip the dinner?”
Conor handed her into the backseat of the car. “Yeah, happens occasionally. I know what she wants accomplished and who she wants leaned on.” He settled in next to her, his hip pressing against hers. “Word is she might be in line for a big promotion, and then yours truly would step in to take over this branch of the business. She trusts me to watch her back and keep the profits high.”
“The Combine is very complicated,” Miriell said, thinking of the small glimpses of the criminal conglomerate she’d had on various assignments.
“Makes us harder for the SCIA to kill.” Conor exchanged grins with the other soldier.
The two men fell into a conversation about some aspect of a gambling racket their branch was running, and Miriell sat back, seeking inner peace. Her power was at a dismally low ebb, and she hoped with Opherra not in the party after all, she wouldn’t be called upon for anything. She glanced at Conor as he laughed easily over something his friend said. How long can he keep his boss from carrying out her threats to get rid of me? Her frustration mounted, because they’d had no chance to talk privately, and she felt equally upset with herself at the way her attraction to the man grew the longer she was near him. I’ve no right to any personal happiness, not until the wrongs done to my people have been avenged. And he’s blood sworn to Amarotu, like all the rest, no better. But as lofty as her inner resolve sounded, the truth was, she was drawn to Conor as she’d been drawn to no other male, from her own world or in the Sectors. And there were those elusive blue flickers deep in his core.
“We’ve arrived.” The object of her thoughts nudged her gently in the ribs, apologizing instantly as she winced. “Sorry! How could I forget?”
“I’m better than yesterday,” she said, smiling.
He helped her from the groundcar, and they entered the restaurant. The manager was waiting, a short, plump, overly obsequious man who seemed much too upset when he learned Opherra wasn’t going to attend the night’s meal. Miriell found his demeanor so odd that she was tempted to send a tendril of power his way to seek out the cause of his nerves.
Conor distracted her. “There’s something I want you to see before we have to go into the reception.” He tugged her toward a door at the side of the hall the manager was escorting them down. “Saviano,” he said to the other Combine soldier, “tell the others we’ll join them shortly.” Opening the portal, he whisked Miriell outside, pausing as she realized he’d brought her to another garden.
“How beautiful,” she said, savoring her surroundings. One enormous tree whose branches extended over the restaurant itself stood in the center of the area, the centerpiece of a tastefully arranged space that included a fish pond, a bench, paths, shrubs and flowers. A fountain burbled somewhere close by. The garden had been lit artistically and was incredibly appealing to her. She stepped onto the crushed-stone path leading toward the tree. “May I?”
Conor gestured her forward. “By all means. I’ll make sure we have time after dinner, but take a quick sip if you need to.”
“The energy will help me heal faster,” she said, laying her hands on the trunk. This tree’s bark was smooth, and she gasped at the sheer age of the plant. Whispering a small incantation to thank the tree for sparing her a drink of life-force, she felt happy and a bit dizzy as her power was restored. Her ribs tingled as the damage Jareck had inflicted repaired itself, cell by cell.
“The others are all waiting, Mr. Stewart. Perhaps you and your lady friend can admire the garden later?” The restaurant manager was standing on the steps, holding the door open, a worried frown on his face. A waiter hovered anxiously behind him.
“Maybe we should move the dinner out here.” Conor laughed. “My lady’s enjoying herself. It’s a mild enough evening.”
“Could we?” Miriell felt a definite reluctance at the idea of venturing inside again and spending the evening cooped up with a crowd of Amarotu captains and their arm candy.
“The…the garden’s not big enough for twenty-four guests and waiters. We’d have to move tables, the food is already cooked, the dishes would get cold—” The manager’s litany of excuses was stammered and staccato.
“All right, no need to work yourself up.” Conor slapped the man on the shoulder. “It was just an idea. Maybe next time we can book the garden ahead for an intimate dinner.”
Mopping his forehead with a handkerchief, the manager quickly agreed. “I’d be happy to take your reservation, Mr. Stewart, any time.”
“It’s a lovely idea,” Miriell said, giving the tree one last caress, as if it was a pet. She joined Conor as he followed the owner inside. “Is there anything you want me to do?” she asked Conor in a low voice before their small procession reached the big dining space at the rear of the building.
He shook his head. “Enjoy the food. Take a fast glance at each of the team leads, if it won’t deplete you too much. General impressions only.” As he ushered her into the room and toward their seats at the head of the table, he lowered his voice to say, “Maybe we’ll lose Saviano after dinner and go for a drive, just the two of us.”
“I’d like that.” Because I really want to talk to you and find out what your intentions are, what your plan for us might be.
The dinner was a combination of excellent food smoothly served, if a bit spicier than Miriell preferred, and a lot of boring conversation. As the courses were brought and consumed, and the dishes silently removed for the next offering, she scanned the men and women who were Opherra’s key people and found nothing unusual or unexpected. All were greedy, cruel, vain and unprincipled to various degrees, like every other Combine person she’d ever come across. All except Conor, with his enticing but elusive blue flames. Seeing the blue behind his shields took more concentration than she wanted to exert in this setting. She sat back, sipping at her wine, and glanced from Conor to the people seated around the table. As the conversation went on, the group discussed drugs, gambling, prostitution and other related criminal activities as calmly as anyone else might discuss sports or politics. The discussion nauseated her, even inured as she’d become after four years of captivity. She found it impossible to reconcile the man who’d rescued her and treated her so gently with the ruthless crime captain in charge of this meeting, talking about a horrific amount of human misery and illegal activities.
Truth be told, the restaurant manager and the waiters bothered her more than the Combine people. The staff fidgeted, entering and exiting the room briskly, as if nervous. The service was impeccable, no dishes were dropped or wine spilled, but Miriell picked up the fine edge of terror. Maybe if Opherra had been present, she’d understand, because the crime boss had shown how capricious and casually cruel she could be. But with her absence, why were the restaurant employees and the manager so frightened? The oppressiveness of their anxiety got to the point that she decided to scan the manager the next time he came in. She took her drink and wandered to the glass doors leading to another part of the garden, wishing she could go outside and escape the Combine and the unnerving wait staff alike. But Conor wouldn’t allow her the latitude to leave the room, not in front of all of Opherra’s people.
Pushing the thought of the forbidden garden out of her thoughts, she pivoted to take the measure of the gathering, trying to gauge how close the evening might be to ending. Many of the girlfriends and wives had withdrawn into a circle at one end of the table, chatting. The four male significant others had formed their own group in a corner. Conor and the team leads were still deep in conversation, but the formal reports had ended. Are they talking sports now? About to take a sip of the wine, Miriell froze.
The remnants of the last course were still on the table. It had been at least five minutes, and no one had come in to clear the dishes or bring the desserts, which she’d been assured by her seatmate were renowned. Was she the only one who noticed?
Placing her glass on a low table by the door, she walked to Conor, bending to speak in his ear. “Something’s wrong.”
“Give me a minute,” he said, patting the hand she’d laid on his shoulder. “I need to—”
Senses blaring an alarm inside her, she grabbed his arm and tugged. “I need to talk to you now.”
Saviano, sitting to Conor’s left, laughed. “Better see what she wants. Never keep someone as hot as she is waiting. You’ve been ignoring her all night, and she might take revenge by refusing you later.”
“Excuse me, I’ll just be a minute.” Dropping his napkin, Conor followed her to the door leading outside.
She felt safer there, close to the tree and garden.
Brow furrowed, tone furious, he asked, “What the seven hells is the matter with you?”
“Where’s the manager? Where are the waiters? Why hasn’t anyone brought dessert? All of them have been incredibly stressed tonight, which I thought was due to having the Combine on the premises, fear of displeasing them or making a mistake, but what if it’s something more?”
Frowning, he glanced over his shoulder. “You may be—”
BOOM.
The sound was so loud she was deafened, ears aching from the pressure of the blast. She felt herself lifted from the floor and literally thrown through the glass doors on a wave of unbearable heat. Conor landed on top of her and wrapped himself around her body, serving as a shield as she felt rather than heard two more blasts. The dining room behind them was enveloped in flames.
Not able to hear herself speak, she screamed Conor’s name and pushed him off. When she sat up, she realized she was surrounded by small chunks of the glass, which had fortunately shattered into nonlethal clumps. Frantically examining the unresponsive Conor in the hot light from the fire, she found the back of his suit had burned off, down to the skin. The remnants of the shirt were still smoldering, and his skin was charred in places. She hoped the nerves were numbed by the severe damage.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she laid her hands on the blistering and blackened skin and began chanting a healing song. Fortunately, she was full of power taken from the ancient tree, and she could see him healing as her gift flowed over him, enhanced by the song. Her hearing came and went, bringing the agonizing screams of those trapped inside the banquet room. As she finished the chant, she rose, ready to try to rescue someone else, but the heat was intense, and the people she could see lay unmoving.
“What the seven hells just happened?” Conor sat up, hand to his head. In the next moment, he was on his feet, taking charge, blaster in one hand, tugging Miriell away from the burning building.
“A bomb, I think. Maybe several.”
There were still screams, and now she heard the buzz of blasters, punctuated by a few shots from projectile weapons.
“Why am I half naked?” he asked without altering his focus on drawing her away from the fire and the shootout.
“You shielded me from the blast, but you were badly burned. I healed you.”
He did a double take then, but was distracted by the sound of the blaster fire. “We’ve got to move. Someone is determined to kill off any survivors who make it to the front door, or drive them back inside the burning building to die.”
“Who would do this? Why?”
“We’ll figure it out later. Come on.” He pulled her toward the rear of the garden.
“Wait!” She wrenched her hand free and ran to the tree, the crown of which was burning fiercely, set alight by floating embers from the restaurant. Placing both hands, palms down, on the trunk, cheek resting on the smooth bark, she said in Tulavarran, “You’re not going to survive this, my ancient friend. Let me set you free, and in exchange, I ask the gift of your power.” She sang the chant for the peaceful passage into the next life.
“Miriell, we don’t have time for this.” Conor hovered close by, eyeing the burning branches above her and checking the restaurant for signs of pursuit. Fortunately, it was so engulfed in flames that no one was going to come at them head on.
“There must be time. This is an ancient one. I can’t help the people, but I can and must assist this spirit. It’s my duty.”
He brushed falling embers away from her skirts and grabbed her wrist. “We should be on the move. We’re too close to the fire and whoever is hunting survivors.”
Twisting free of his grip, she stepped away from him, moving to the other side of the trunk as the heat from the burning building threatened to scorch through her clothes. “You go ahead, if you must, but I can’t shirk my responsibility as a priestess.”
Muttering a curse, he took up a defensive stance close beside her. “I’m not abandoning you here, but make whatever you’re doing quick.”
She felt tremors under her palms and clung tight.
Above her, the as-yet-unburned branches sprouted a cascade of shiny new green leaves and then burst into flowers, the blooms’ perfume incredibly rich, overpowering the smoke for a second. Gratefully, she drew the scent into her abused lungs. Then the flowers died, morphing into seedpods in a blink, releasing from the tree and floating away on the wind fanning the fire. Miriell felt power flowing from the tree into her in a riveting flood of energy, filling her from head to toe, every nerve ending in her body transformed into a conduit for the transfer. The tree under her hands cracked, and Conor yanked her away as the wood crumbled into pulp, and the mighty boughs crashed to the earth, breaking as they fell. The fire blazed up.
“We’re going now.”
“How can we get out? The garden’s fully enclosed,” she said, dazed from her encounter with the dying sentience of the tree. She stumbled as he pulled her along the path.
“There’s always a way. I’m not getting shot down like a penned dog, and I’m not allowing them to kill or capture you.” At a run, he led her to a tool shed in the farthest corner. The door was locked with a padlock and chain.
“We can’t shelter in there.” She checked over her shoulder as more explosions rocked the building behind them.
“Kitchen going up probably.” He stowed the blaster in his battered shoulder harness. “If I give you a boost, can you get on the roof of the shed?”
She kicked off her shoes. “I used to climb trees so high their crowns touched the sky. I can do this.”
“Stay low once you get up there.” He lifted her, and she managed to claw her way onto the corrugated roof of the shed, ripping her dress in the process, crawling to the other side as she heard him leap and catch the edge to pull himself up. The shed overlooked an alley.
“I don’t sense anyone nearby,” she whispered.
“Good.” He handed her the shoes. “I’ll go first and catch you.” He slithered to the ground and then held up his arms for her.
Taking a deep breath, Miriell let herself down, falling the final few feet into his rock-solid embrace.
Blaster in hand again, Conor hustled her down the alley away from the restaurant. Sirens blared in the distance.
“Surely we could get help from whoever comes?”
He shook his head, stopping in a pool of dark shadow and surveying the street ahead. “Until I know who ordered this hit and why, I’m not trusting anyone, including Opherra.”
“Why would she want to eliminate her own team? Kill you?”
“I doubt it was her, but until I’m positive, we’re not taking chances. Stay here for a minute.”
Before she could answer, he darted down the street, hugging the line of vehicles. A moment later, she heard an engine sputter to life, and a small ground-only cargo hauler came toward her, making a U-turn before stopping. The door slid open, and she ran to throw herself inside. Conor sped off almost before she was safely in the passenger seat.
“This truck’ll take us a few miles, and then I’ll switch to something better. No one’s likely to report it stolen tonight.” He glanced at her. “You doing okay?”
“I’m full of energy from the tree, so yes, physically. I think I’m in a bit of shock, though.” She held one hand out so he could see how she trembled.
“Probably. We had a helluva close call. Thank the Lords of Space you figured out something was going on. Breathe deep and trust me. No one’s going to find us again tonight. I know where we can lie low.” He drove the truck smoothly, not too fast, obeying all the traffic laws, as far as she could tell with her limited experience. There were few other vehicles on the road.
“How can you stay so calm?”
“Nerves of steel are in my job description.” He grinned. “I’ve been in bad situations before. Soldier, remember?” Glancing at her after he guided the truck around a curve, he said, “Thanks for saving my life. I owe you.”
“We’re even, I think. You saved me from Jareck last night. I wish I could have done something for all the other people we were with. I know they were Combine, but I can’t be reconciled to such a terrible death for people who never directly harmed me or mine. If only I’d spoken up sooner. I knew the restaurant staff was nervous, but until everyone waiting on us disappeared completely at dessert time, I didn’t suspect they knew an enemy would try to murder us.”
“Hey, don’t blame yourself.” Reaching out, he squeezed her hand. “This was a well-planned, professional hit. “
“Why would the attackers warn the restaurant manager?”
Conor shrugged. “Historically, that restaurant was a neutral place, a safe zone. He probably has informers and allies in many of the different factions. Maybe someone owed him. Maybe he helped set us up. Once you’re in the world of organized crime, all bets are off and you can’t rely on anyone. No trust.”
“I trust you.”
He took a deep breath. “I trust you too. You’ll find out how much in a little while. I hope we’re going to have a chance to talk tonight.” Holding up a hand as he steered the truck into a parking structure and headed for an upper floor, he said, “But not yet. Bear with me a little longer.”
He parked the truck at the edge of an empty floor. “We’ll be leaving the truck here.” He climbed past the seats to check the contents in the back of the vehicle. “This is more like it, better than driving in burned rags.” He tore the remnants of his burned jacket and shirt off, dropping them to the floor, and removed a uniform tunic from a peg. Although the stolen garment was tight fitting, he took a deep breath and closed the fasteners. He retraced his steps and exited through the driver’s door, walking around the vehicle to assist her in sliding from her own seat.
Miriell stood by, hunched against the cold wind blowing through the empty structure. “Now what? Why are we leaving the truck here? Should we take the burnt clothing?”
“I’ve left enough other evidence behind already, fingerprints for one, so the clothes hardly matter. No time to erase all traces. Lucky Opherra has most of the cops on her payroll and she can probably afford to buy the damn trucking company if they get upset over us borrowing a vehicle in an emergency. As to why we’re abandoning the truck now, you’ll see in a few moments.”
Hugging the wall, he led her to a dark stairwell. Despite her misgivings, she followed him into the inky passageway and descended the narrow steps for a nerve-rackingly long time. She tried not to breathe too deeply of the mold-scented air. Eventually, they arrived at a locked door, dimly lit by a flickering yellow light set into the ceiling directly above. Conor took out his handy tool kit, and a moment later the portal opened. She was barely across the threshold when the door snapped shut again, and Miriell gasped as she found herself in total darkness, only his tight grip on her hand to anchor her.
Then lights came on in rapid succession across a vast expanse, revealing a subterranean level of the parking structure. Enclosed in translucent security forcefield shields, a few vehicles sat scattered throughout the expanse.
“Long-term storage,” Conor said, heading toward one of the groundcars. It took him only a moment to retract the security stasis and usher Miriell into a beige, nondescript, older groundcar with a few dents and some missing paint here and there.
“Is this your car?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He activated the engine by tapping a code into the panel, and there was a muted roar. “I have the use of it if I need transport in an emergency. I think tonight qualifies.”
“The engine sounds like it could power a spaceship, not a groundcar.”
“Hidden capabilities.” His grin was cocky. “Not much longer now, and I’ll have you somewhere you can clean up and relax. We’ll be safe, I promise.”
Conor drove up and out of the garage at high speed, exiting onto a different street than the one they’d arrived on. He drove west, activating the vehicle’s flight configuration for a good half hour and blending smoothly into the aerial traffic lanes that soared above the glittering expanse of lights. “This city never sleeps,” he said. “Rush hour is around the clock.”
Eventually, he exited the skylanes, set down on a road again and drove at a conservative speed through what appeared to Miriell to be a normal subdivision of homes, each house set back from the street, kids’ toys scattered on the lawns, along with other evidence of the ordinary people who lived in the neighborhood. The battered appearance of their car fit right in with the other vehicles parked on the side of the road and in driveways. For the most part, the houses were dark. Conor pulled into a driveway seemingly at random and drove around to the back and into a garage whose door opened as their car approached and closed again smoothly.
He came to her side of the groundcar and opened her door. “No need to sit in the garage.”
She took his hand and let him assist her from the seat. The garage was featureless, had no windows and had room for at least two more groundcars. There was a single door, which led into a kitchen, the lights coming on as he entered in front of her. Conor tapped a code into an AI beside the portal so rapidly she couldn’t see the individual digits, then pulled her close with a sigh, resting his head on hers. “At last.”
She put her arms around him, and they stood locked together for a moment. “Are we safe here?”
“Absolutely.”
“No listening devices? No danger of anyone walking in on us?” Tilting her head to gaze into his face, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling at the idea of total privacy. Going on tiptoe and pulling his head down at the same time, she brushed a kiss across his lips. They’d barely escaped a fiery death. Who knew what might happen tomorrow? She’d made her decision to celebrate being alive and to experience what this warrior could offer. There’d been attraction and desire between them long enough. Time to seize the opportunity. From the way his arousal pushed at the fastening on his trousers, Conor was of a like mind.
“I deactivated all the surveillance ganglions, and we’re completely alone, I swear.” He moved to get a better angle for a second kiss, his hand brushing the side of her breast in an intimate caress. While he was kissing her, he unfastened the necklace and laid it aside on the counter.
“I assume there’s a bedroom?”
“With a large bed, no less.” He picked her up and carried her through a small living room and down a narrow hall, being careful not to bump her head. She kicked off her shoes as they went. Laughing, he paused for a moment to toe off his footwear. Turning right, he entered the bedroom.
He laid her on the bed tenderly and came over her, his arousal pushing at the closure of his dress pants, heavily insistent against the vee of her thighs. Keeping his weight on his elbows, he smoothed her hair off her face, plucking an errant seedpod from the tendrils and showing it to her for a second.
“Don’t lose it,” she said in protest as he flicked it to the side. “It’s a gift.”
“We can find it again. Later.” He kissed her as if she was the most delicate woman he’d ever met, gently stroking her lips with his tongue and then plundering her mouth with increasing urgency as she allowed his entry and responded in kind. Much though she enjoyed his tender caresses, she was riding the adrenaline of the night’s events, stoked by her mounting desire over the previous days, each encounter adding to her attraction for this man. Miriell craved his strength and power, and she let him know her wants, adjusting under him, exploring his mouth and his body with passion, encouraging him to loosen the reins on his own desire to match hers.
Miriell held him as close as she could, running one hand through his hair as they kissed and slipping the other under the edge of the crisp, starched uniform shirt so she could enjoy the feel of his warm skin under her palm, circling the flat nipples and moving on to caress and explore. She realized he bore scars, old wounds badly healed, signs of the rough life he’d led, but now wasn’t the time to ask questions. She shifted her hips under him to force the pressure of his cock closer to the place she wanted it to be and pressed herself against the unyielding, hot arousal, impatient to be skin to skin with him.
She and Conor alike were breathless and disheveled when the kiss ended. He rested his forehead on hers, then suddenly rolled off her body and sat up on the bed, looking down at her.
Trying to pull him to her, she asked anxiously, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Before we go any further, I have to tell you something.”
“All right, but you won’t change my mind.” She ran her hand over his arm, savoring the definition of the powerful muscles, the implicit strength of him. “Whatever it is you feel compelled to share, we can handle it.”
“This is an SCIA emergency safe house.”
Thinking she’d heard him wrong, she did a double take and slumped against the pillows. She’d been dreading a revelation that perhaps he had a wife somewhere, not this.
He met her eyes but took a deep breath. “I’m a police officer, Miriell. A deeply undercover cop.”
“I don’t understand.” Now she sat up to face him, drawing her knees to her chest and clasping her hands around her legs. “How—how can you be a policeman and work for Opherra? How can you commit the crimes you carry out for her?”
“I have a warrant on file at the SCIA headquarters that allows me to take any action I see fit, from petty larceny to murder, in the pursuit of this case. I have blanket immunity, although I’ve been as careful as I can be and try not to target innocent civilians. But certainly I have caused collateral damage with some of my actions, and the guilt is my burden to carry.” He reached out to unlock her hands, kissing her palm while he kept his focus on her face. “My life is in your hands now. If Opherra ever finds out—”
Miriell shivered, putting both her hands around his and squeezing. “I’d never tell. I’m excellent at keeping secrets, especially those concerning people I care for.”
“I have no doubts.”
Given the immense nature of the revelation he’d shared, Miriell wondered why she wasn’t more shocked. But I’ve always known he was one to be trusted. She was definitely still aroused and full of desire for this man. “That explains the blue flames.”
Brow furrowed, he asked, “Blue flames?”
“I see the colors in a person, an aura to tell me who they are at their core. When I scan you, the clear cobalt blue marking a warrior of Thuun shines to my inner eye. Brave, one to be trusted. One who fights evil.” She stroked his cheek with her free hand, enjoying the rasp of the stubble against her fingertips. Tulavarra males had no facial hair. “Of course, you hide your true nature well, behind obsidian shields so strong even I can’t break through.”
“I don’t want shields against you. Any barrier between myself and you is the last thing I want.” His grin was rueful. “When I first saw you, when Jareck took you out of the infernal cryo-sleep container, I literally had only two thoughts—you were the most striking woman I’d ever seen and I already hated the way you were being treated. The more I got to know you—you have guts and smarts, both of which I admire. Running away from the hotel that first morning when you had the chance, not knowing more than a tiny bit of our world, barely able to keep yourself on your feet—I was amazed by your determination.” He cupped her cheek. “I hated not being able to protect you, get you away from the trouble you were in.”
Mind made up, she scooted closer, resting a hand on his arm. “Are there more secrets we have to discuss right now? Do you know what happened to my home base?”
He shook his head. “I wish I had some information on that for you but being deep undercover, I don’t get intel or updates on any operation, not even my own. Too dangerous. I couldn’t make love to you under any kind of false pretenses. You mean too much to me for continued deception.”
“I’m sure I’ll have more questions later. For now, my only issue is why are we still wearing all these tattered, sooty clothes stinking of smoke?” She started unfastening his borrowed uniform shirt, one closure at a time. He sat patiently enough, but the moment the edges of the garment fell open, he shrugged out of the shirt and pulled her to him for another of those intense kisses. Miriell lost herself in the warmth and strength of his embrace.
Eventually, he pulled at the fastening of her dress, and she crawled from the bed to wriggle out of it while he watched with appreciation gleaming in his eyes and showing in his smile. “I liked this black gown the best of any you’ve worn, but now that I see what was underneath, I like the underpinnings better.”
Kicking the ruined dress aside, she pivoted, arching her back to give him a better view of her breasts, accented by the provocative black lace of the undergarments Tamlu had insisted on. “I wished it was you watching me today when I got dressed, not Tamlu,” she confessed. “I wanted you to see me, not just a woman wearing one of Opherra’s castoffs.”
“I always saw you, only you.” He drew her closer, back onto the mattress, unfastening the front closure of the bra, easing the straps from her shoulders so the lingerie fell aside. Cupping her breasts, he teased at the nipples with his thumbs, while Miriell shifted under his touch, the ache between her legs and deep inside making her want so much more from him than simple touching and erotic caresses. He took one nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, which immediately pebbled. She moaned in sheer delight and pressed his head more firmly to the sensuous task he’d chosen.
In response, he laid her on her back and transferred his lips to the other breast, doing things with his hands and clever tongue that had her writhing on the bed in response. Pleasure and rising impatience warred in her mind and body. She wanted her chance to explore the aspects of his body that particularly fascinated her.
Conor kissed the base of her neck, grazing her skin ever so slightly with his teeth as if tasting her. She took the opportunity to fumble with the fastening of his trousers. He rolled onto his back, reaching up to lock his hands around the top of the headboard. She drew his pants and briefs past his hips, admiring the impressive length and girth of his cock as it jutted from his body, ready for her. Finishing the job of rendering her lover naked, she pushed the discarded clothing to the floor with one foot, running her hands up his thighs until she could fondle his balls, drawn tight against his body. She caressed the sensitive area, rewarded by his groan of pleasure and the creaking of the headboard as he kept himself from touching her for the moment. She wrapped her hands around the base of his arousal, stroking root to tip, her clasp firm and caressing, while he fought not to buck under her touch. Lowering her head, she took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the head, sucking and licking. Conor fisted his hands in her hair, careful not to hurt her, and murmured encouragement.
After a few moments of enjoying the taste of him, she allowed his cock to slip from her lips. Keeping her hand wrapped around him, stroking slightly, she said, “I think, my warrior, you’re ready for more than kisses.”
“But you aren’t.” He shifted her onto her back, cupping one breast and laving his tongue over the nipple, teasing her, while using his other hand to caress her soft stomach, before sliding it under the edge of the scanty black lace covering her most intimate parts. One finger parted her folds, stroking and caressing. He murmured a sound of pure male satisfaction as he discovered how wet she was for him. Switching his attention to the other breast, he kissed, using his teeth with utmost care just enough to inflict a flicker of arousing sensation, not quite pain, while he used two fingers to penetrate and tease the sensitive flesh of her inner folds, creating a bonfire of sensation. Ripples of arousal and pleasure had been cresting inside her ever since she’d realized they were going to make love, but now his sure touch drew a more intense reaction.
She couldn’t resist the orgasm he was striving to give her a moment longer. An ecstatic sensory overload swept through her from the inside out, her spine arching from the bed, muscles clenched in an effort to contain the delicious waves and prolong the sensation.
“Now,” he said as he removed the last bit of lacy lingerie and spread her legs, “we can dance, no music required.”
“We move well together.” She fought to kiss him as he guided himself into her body, then thrust carefully. Throwing her head back, hands fisting against his back, she gasped. Conor stilled. “Are we all right, sweetheart?”
“I haven’t been with anyone in years, not since before the festival on my homeworld where I was kidnapped. You fill me so completely. Give me a moment to grow accustomed to you.”
Hand on her breast, kneading and teasing, he said, “Take all the time you want. We have the entire night.”
She shifted her hips a bit, clenching her muscles around him before releasing the pressure to draw him farther toward her center. There was no question about her body’s readiness to welcome him. She’d never had a lover so skilled, or so well equipped to give utmost pleasure, and she wanted him seated as deeply inside as it was possible to penetrate. Nerve endings she’d never known existed were pulsing, firing their own explosions of ecstasy as Conor thrust.
He caught the rhythm she wanted, pushing and retreating, and then Miriell felt as if the two of them were flying, locked together in one unified whole, the pleasure taking her into the next state of being. She held him close, heard him say her name in that wonderful deep voice as his climax ignited her own, and the world splintered into blue and purple flames of passion and love.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, cozy under a blanket he’d dragged from the closet.
“I should check your back, make sure the healing was complete,” she said drowsily.
Obediently, he rolled onto his stomach, pillowing his head on his arms so he could watch her with heavy-lidded eyes. She ran her hands across the broad, strong expanse of his back and shoulders. “Feels nice,” he said, flexing his muscles as she stroked along his shoulder blades. “Your touch is like a gift.”
“Everything’s fine. The skin healed properly.” She let her hand drift along his spine and lower, to his butt, squeezing.
He went to his side, pulling her into an embrace, holding her against his chest, where she could hear the strong beating of his heart. “Are you warm enough?”
“Toasty and content. I could stay here with you forever. If only the real world didn’t have to intrude when the sun rises.” She sighed, kissing him. “Is your name even Conor?”
“It is now. That’s all I can say. The less you know, the better for you.” His tone was mild enough, but it was clear he wasn’t going to give her more details.
His semi-erect cock rested on her thigh with the promise of another bout of lovemaking soon. He regains his strength rapidly. Conor nuzzled her neck, giving her goose bumps as he kissed his way up to her lips and demanded entry, his tongue sliding between her parted lips to explore. Adjusting, she responded eagerly to his caresses, allowing her hands to roam across his chiseled muscles and then lower, where his arousal grew under her attentions.
This time, she straddled him, and the pace was more leisurely, exploring, enjoying, until finally the passion became too hot, and Conor groaned and flipped her to her back, plunging into her depths with abandon. Miriell met his powerful thrusts with pleasure, using her inner muscles to squeeze and caress him, heightening the intensity for them both. The climax brought her to an even higher plateau of pleasure than the first time, and well contented, she lay in his arms and drifted off to sleep.