The Captive

She slept late after a long and restless night. Waking or sleeping, her thoughts had been of Falkon. Always Falkon. He was like a fever in her blood, an addiction for which there was no cure. One minute she was sure she hated him, the next she wanted to be in his arms, wanted to feel his mouth on hers, taste the forbidden pleasures promised by his knowing smile and roguish grin.



Rising, she dressed quickly, determined to pretend nothing had happened between them the evening before.



She was on her way to the galley for breakfast when she happened to look out the port. Frowning, she realized they were in space.



Changing direction, she went into the cockpit. "Where are we going?"



He looked at her as if she wasn't very bright. "Trellis."



"How long will it take to get there?"



Was it his imagination, or did she sound less than enthusiastic that they were finally on their way? "We'll be there late tomorrow night." He was taking her to her fiance.



Being with her, holding her, was far too seductive, far too dangerous, for his peace of mind.



Last night, holding her in his arms, he had been tempted to forget about Drade, to forget about avenging the deaths of his wife and daughter. Last night, he had wanted nothing more than to take Ashlynne away somewhere and spend the rest of his days loving her.



He fingered the collar at his throat, felt his anger stir to life once again, and with it his need for vengeance. Drade would pay for every day he had toiled in the mine, for every night he had spent locked in a cold, damp cell, for every minute he had spent in solitary, for every humiliation he had endured, every stroke of the lash.



Ashlynne felt a sudden chill as she looked at Falkon. His eyes were cold; a muscle throbbed in his cheek. She wondered what he was thinking, sincerely hoping that she was not the cause of the anger seething inside him.



She spent the day moving between her cabin and the galley. She stayed out of the cockpit, except to take Falkon his meals, which he acknowledged with a curt nod. She hadn't intended to wait on him. Why should she? He could get his own food if he was hungry. But it was a good excuse to go to the cockpit. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, why he was so angry, but she lacked the nerve to break the brittle silence between them.



In her cabin later that night, she tried to recall Niklaus's face, but it was Falkon's image that sprang readily to mind, the memory of Falkon's kiss that followed her to sleep.



When she rose in the morning, he was sitting as she had left him the night before. Dark bristles shadowed the line of his jaw.



With a sigh, she went into the galley and fixed two cups of coffee, one black, for him, one with cream, heavy on the sugar, for herself. She carried



them into the cockpit and sat down.



"Here." She handed him one of the cups.



"I'm sorry," he muttered.



"So am I. What are you going to do after you drop me off?"



"I have an old score to settle."



"What do you mean?"



He rubbed his hand over the collar at his throat. "Do you know how to get this damn thing off?"



She shook her head. "Maybe there's a release on the controller. Did you look?"



"Yeah." He had looked, very carefully, afraid he might accidentally trigger the damn thing. He wondered what kind of man had invented such a barbaric contraption.



"How much ransom are you going to demand for me?"



Falkon shook his head. "I'm not."



"Oh? What changed your mind?"



"I decided it would be too risky. I'd have to arrange a meeting, and I'm sure your fiance would inform the authorities." He shook his head. "I'll drop you off near his residence, and then you're on your own."



She nodded. She had never been on her own before. There had always been someone nearby she could call on, someone to watch over her, take care of her.



The hours passed slowly. She dozed in her chair, woke, and dozed again; her dreams were fragmented, confusing, filled with fuzzy images of her parents and Magny. And Falkon. Always he was there, a dark presence lurking in the background, both fearsome and reassuring.



It was after midnight when they reached their destination. Falkon landed the ship at a free port near the south end of the city.



Ashlynne looked out the window. Lights burned in a building off to the left.



Three men were working on a Romarian league cruiser in a nearby hangar.



She looked at Falkon. With a pang, she realized that he would soon be gone from her life and she would never see him again.



He turned, his gaze meeting hers. "Well, princess, we're here."



She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. He was her last link with her old life, with home.



"Ready?"



"It's late. Maybe we should wait until morning."



"I thought you were anxious to get here?"



"I was. I am. But..." She looked down at her dress. She didn't want to meet Niklaus looking like this, wearing a gown and sandals that were dirty from traipsing through the jungle of an uncharted planet.



"Let's go find lodging," she said. "I need to clean up."



"Lodging, princess?" Falkon shook his head. "I'm broke."



"I'm not."



He frowned at her. "What do you mean?"



"I have credits in an account."



"Why didn't you say so sooner?"



She shrugged. "I didn't think of it, till now. It's just a small account, twenty thousand credits. My mother didn't want me be totally dependent on



Niklaus. She said a girl should have a little something of her own to fall back on, so she opened an account for me. I wasn't to touch it until after I was married."



Falkon shook his head. Her parents had been rich indeed if twenty thousand credits was considered a small amount. "You ready?"



She nodded.



"All right, this is what we're gonna do." He took the controller out of his pocket, blew out a sigh of resignation, and handed it to her. "We don't have any papers. When we get to the check-in point, I want you to tell them what happened on Tierde, tell them we stole a ship and escaped. They'll have heard about the attack by now. Have you got that stun gun with you?"



"Yes."



"Good." He pulled the gun he had taken from the guard on Enjine Base Nine out of his pocket. "Hang on to this, too. All right, activate the manacles on my wrists, and let's go."



There were two guards clad in Romarian garb when they reached the port of entry.



"I'll need your documents," the taller of the two men said, holding out his hand.



"Documents?" Ashlynne said. She pressed a hand to her heart. "Oh, dear, I'm afraid I don't have any."



"Who are you, and where are you coming from?"



"I'm the daughter of Lord Marcus of Myrafloures. My father owned the mine on Tierde. We were attacked several days ago. My slave and I were the only ones to escape. We managed to steal a ship and get away."



"We heard of the attack," the second guard said. "Damned green-skinned, black-hearted Hodorians. They can't be trusted."



Ashlynne nodded. Tears pricked her eyes, and she let them fall. "My parents were killed. I'm on my way to Arkata. My fiance, Niklaus Hassrick, lives there."



The Hassrick name worked like magic. The guards stepped back and opened the gate. "We're sorry for your loss, my lady," said the first.



"Thank you. Can you tell me where I might find lodging for the night?"



"I can do better than that. I'll have one of my men take you there."



"Thank you, that's very kind."



The guard smiled at her. Picking up a communicator, he summoned an amphibious surface transport craft and gave the driver directions.



Ashlynne smiled her thanks as the guard handed her into the ASTC. "Come along. Number Four," she said in her best lady-of-the-manor voice.



Keeping his face carefully blank, Falkon took his place in the rear seat of the four-seat vehicle.



"Have a pleasant stay," the guard said.



"Thank you," Ashlynne replied. "You've been very kind."



"My pleasure, my lady," he said.



"My pleasure, my lady," Falkon muttered as the guard closed the door. He stared at the manacles on his wrists, and wondered if putting himself at her mercy had been such a good idea.



They found lodging in a glass-fronted, four-story building. Falkon watched Ashlynne sign for the room, then followed her into the elevator.



As soon as the doors closed, he held out his hands. "Turn me loose."



She hesitated a moment, making him wonder if he was going to have to try to wrest the controller from her again, when she pulled it from her pocket and released his hands.



Their room was on the fourth floor. She slid the key card into the slot and the door opened. A light came on as they stepped into the room.



Falkon looked around. It was a large room, decorated in subtle shades of blue and green. A tele-screen took up one wall. There were two large reclining sofas, a desk built into one wall, a fireplace.



There was a large bedroom and bathroom, and a small kitchen that offered snacks and drinks.



"Nice place," he muttered.



AsMynne nodded. "We need some new clothes." She went to the tele- screen and flipped through the channels until she found an all-night shopping channel. She looked through their catalog, picked out several changes of clothes, underwear and shoes, then turned to Falkon. "Pick out whatever you want."



He opted for a pair of black pants, a gray long-sleeved turtleneck sweater that would hide the collar around his neck and the manacles on his wrists, and a pair of calf-high black boots.



"Is that all you want?" Ashlynne asked.



Falkon nodded. "I'll pay you back."



"There's no need." She confirmed their order and ended the transmission.



"Yes, there is."



She sighed. There was no point in arguing with him. "I'm hungry." She picked up the phone and dialed the main desk. "Do you want anything?"



"Sure. The thickest steak they've got and all the trimmings."



He went to look out the window while she ordered. The city was brightly lit, a maze of streets lined with tall buildings, their mirrored windows reflecting the light. A pair of monorails snaked overhead. Despite the late hour, the streets were crowded. Like most big cities, the stores and entertainment centers here were open twenty-four hours a day.



Tomorrow he would be free. The first order of business would be to find a way to get rid of the shackles that branded him a prisoner, then he would need to find a transport that would take him to Romariz. And Drade.' Drade. For the first time, be began to think he might actually have a chance at the revenge he craved so desperately.



There was a knock at the door and when he opened it, an android handed him several packages. Falkon signed for the delivery, then earned the boxes into the bedroom and dropped them on the floor. One way or another, he would pay her back.



A few minutes later, a bell rang in the kitchen, signaling the arrival of their meal.



Ashlynne looked at Falkon expectantly, but he made no move toward the kitchen. With a sigh of resignation, she went into the kitchen and opened the servet door. Picking up the tray, she wondered why she had even considered the possibility that he would wait on her. Months of slavery in the bowels of the mine had not made a slave of him. She doubted if anything could.



She carried the tray into the living room and sat down. Uncovering the



tray, she placed the dishes on the table.



Sitting down beside her, Falkon hit the control on the arm of the sofa, and the tele-screen came to life. He selected an all-news station, and there was Drade, bigger than life. Jayson looked impressive as hell in his uniform, his medals all shiny, his dark brown hair cropped short.



Falkon leaned forward, everything else forgotten, as he listened to what his old enemy was saying.



"Following the unprovoked attack on Tierde, Romariz was quick to offer support. Clean-up has begun." Drade smiled into the camera. He'd always had more than his share of charm, and he poured it on now. "A new shipment of prisoners from Daccar has been assembled, and the mine will be fully functional again within the next week, assuring that there will be no shortage of the black crystals."



"Thank you, Commander Drade. In other news..."



Falkon shook his head. Quick to offer support, indeed. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that Romariz had been behind the attack in the first place.



Troops from Romariz had probably been hovering nearby, waiting to step in as soon as the Hodorian Army had completed its attack. Romariz would assume control, not only of the mine, but of the star base, offering its protection from further attack. Tierde was a small, peaceful planet with a small population. Its people would have no recourse but to accept. After all, they had signed a peace treaty with Romariz; and once Romariz was in power, there would be no way to get rid of them short of all-out war. Falkon swore softly. To his knowledge, the only planets in the quadrant that were still free of Romarian rule were Daccar, Polixe, and Cherlin Four.



"Falkon? Is something wrong with your dinner?"



"What?" He glanced at Ashlynne.



"Is something wrong? You're not eating."



"No, everything's fine." He stared at the food on his plate, determined to enjoy the meal. "Just fine."



"What are you going to do when you leave here?"



"Settle an old score." He pushed the plate away, his appetite gone.



"You mentioned that once before, but you never told me with whom."



"Drade."



"The man on the news?"



Falkon nodded. "He's the bastard who killed my family."



"And you won't rest until he's dead, will you?" She looked at him thoughtfully a moment. "I'll never see you again, will I?"



"No." He smiled at her as he ran the backs of his fingers along her cheek.



"That should make you happy, Princess."



"Yes, it should." But it didn't. She thought of the time they had spent together. He had saved her life, comforted her when she was sad, dried her tears, treated her as an equal instead of a useless decoration, made her feel, made her think, shown her that she had more courage than she had ever imagined. Kissed her... With a clarity that was sudden and startling, she realized she was in love with him.



Falkon frowned as he watched the play of emotions move across Ashlynne's face. Her gaze met his, open and honest, hitting him with the



force of a laser blast, and he knew in that moment that he didn't want to let her go, that he didn't want to see her married to another man. He wanted her for himself, had wanted her from the moment he had first looked up and seen her staring down at him, her eyes wide with horror and pity.



He stood up slowly, walked around the table, and reached for her. She went to him willingly, everything she was thinking, everything she was feeling, shining in the emerald depths of her eyes.



"This will never work." His hand cupped her cheek.



"I know." Her arms slid around his waist.



"I'm a wanted man." His fingertips slid down her neck, resting in the hollow of her throat. He could feel her heart beating there, its rhythm increasing at his touch.



"I'm engaged to Niklaus." She stood on tiptoe, pressing her body against the hard length of his.



"I won't rest until my family is avenged." His hands slid over her shoulders, down her back, his fingers running lightly up and down her spine.



"I know." Her hands slid under his shirt, moving restlessly up and down his back. She loved the way his skin felt beneath her palms, the sudden intake of his breath when she touched him.



"Ashlynne." Her name was a low groan on his lips as he lowered his head, his mouth covering hers in a desperate, hungry kiss that stole the breath from her lungs and the strength from her legs.



She leaned into him, wanting to be close, closer, wanting all of him, his hands and his lips, his heart and his soul.



His mouth was like fire, his tongue a living flame, and she reveled in it, craved it, devoured it as if it were the elixir of life itself.



He was murmuring her name, raining kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, filling her with a wild abandon, a primal pulsing need that would no longer be denied.



She wanted to laugh with the wonder of it, cry from the overwhelming sense of joy that filled her heart and soul with both pleasure and pain.



Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her down the hallway and into one of the bedrooms. He sat down on the edge of the bed, then fell back on the mattress, carrying her with him, so that her body covered his. His hands tunneled into her hair, cradling her head.



And then he kissed her again and yet again, and the fire between them burned hotter and brighter.



She lifted his shirt, drawing it over his head and tossing it aside, so that she could run her fingers over his chest, press kisses to his throat, his shoulders, feel his skin grow hot beneath her touch. She kissed the number four branded on his arm, a fierce ache growing inside her for the pain he had suffered. His desire for her was evident, and she thrilled to the knowledge and the power it awakened within her.



He unfastened her dress, drew it down over her hips, his gaze hot as he tossed it aside and removed her undergarments.



"Beautiful," he murmured as he bared her body to his gaze. "So beautiful."



She moaned as he kissed her breasts, then drew her down on top of him and kissed her again, and again.



"Ashlynne..." His voice was ragged with want and desire and need.



"Don't stop."



"Are you sure?" He gazed up at her, his eyes dark with passion. "I don't want to hurt you."



His knuckles brushed her cheek. "I don't want to do something you'll regret later."



"I'm sure." She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him gently. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."



Murmuring her name, he rolled onto his side, carrying her with him.



She sighed as their bodies came together, warm flesh to warm flesh. "I love you," she murmured. "Do you know how much I love you?"



"Ashlynne... I don't deserve you. You're fine and beautiful and I have nothing to offer you. No home, nothing."



"You'll be my home," she whispered fervently. "And I'll be yours."



And with those simple words, she stole his heart and his soul.



He made love to her gently, tenderly, aware that this time, the first time, would be something she would always remember. He worshiped her with his hands and his lips, adored her with every touch, every caress, whispered that she was beautiful, that he needed her, wanted her, with every fiber of his being, every breath in his body.



And when he took her, when his body at last merged with hers and they hovered on the edge of the world, he said the words he had never thought to say again, saw the tears well in her eyes as he whispered, "I love you."