Assassin's Hunger (16 page)

His voice lowered to a growl of anger that matched her own. “A man who was going to use you for his own desires.”

Despite the note of threat—or maybe because of it—a thrill went through her. Like the familiar battle buzz sent by artificial impulse from her enhanced brain, but deeper, more visceral. It came from some secret place in her core.

It was a place that
wanted
to be vulnerable, exposed.

What was there, beneath the plysteel and programming? The thought terrified her. Which made her all the more determined to confront it and him.

Slowly, she asked, “And what if I had my own desires?”

He made another low sound, halfway between a groan and a laugh. “I doubt we want the same things.”

“You think I don’t know what I want just because I’ve never had it before?”

“You never…” His gaze shot to hers, and she caught her breath at the hot, molten silver glittering in his eyes. “Stop. You’re making it hard to stay strong and stay away from you, innocent girl.”

A perverse surge of satisfaction made her smile. “You’re the one who said tough isn’t all good.”

“I’m not even half tough where you are concerned,” he said.

She took a breath, her amusement fading. “Then why did you stop? After the kiss?”

“Shipboard romances are dangerous,” he said. “Distracting. Especially considering what we’re up against.”

“That sounds more like an excuse than an explanation,” she noted.

“You have no idea how right you are,” he muttered.

“So tell me.” She needed data for optimal functioning, especially in this murky realm of all too human desire. “I am not so innocent.”

He snorted. “More than anyone I’ve met, you are.”

“I may not remember every moment, but I have fought and killed and lost. I think…” She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap, and to her surprise even the one with the implants was shaking. “I
feel
it’s my turn to experience the rest of what the universe offers.”

When he glanced at her this time, the silver in his eyes was chill as ice. “Even at its most beautiful, the universe can be dangerous. Maybe you won’t want to remember any of it.”

She laced her fingers together to stop the shaking. “At least it’ll be mine.”

He didn’t answer, and moments later, the proximity alarm beeped.

“Mouth of the canyon,” Eril said.

Shaxi let out a slow breath. Apparently the canyon’s mouth was the only one that was going to open. Maybe she could force Eril to talk—she knew she had interrogation protocols in her codes—but that wasn’t what she wanted.

She wanted him to want to talk to her. To want
her
.

She flattened her palm over the runabout’s interface and absorbed the incoming data. “Range is limited by the EM interference from the storm front, but I’m reading no ships or other vehicles on the scanners,” she reported, keeping her voice flat and unemotional. “Rampakh will have sensors for incoming traffic, but if we can’t see them at this distance, they can’t see us.”

“Good,” he said. “Then the
Asphodel
should remain undisturbed.”

That was the only thing undisturbed, she thought, glancing sidelong at his tensed jaw. She resolved not to refer to the kiss again. Ever.

They continued along the base of the cliff where the canyon had dumped them out. Rampakh occupied a small valley between two ranges where mining would have been done if the native ore and storms hadn’t been so problematic. The smaller port would be a frightening place to wait out the shriving, lying exposed as it was at the bottom of the funnel.

But that’s why she was here. Maybe once she reset herself—if she survived—she would try again to uncover what made life worth living.

She concentrated on the screens in front of her. “We should be picking up the outer sensor array of Rampakh by now.” She’d get out and push if she thought it would end this trip any faster.

“The sandstorm we flew through might have knocked out the array.”

She shook her head. “That wasn’t bad by Khamaseen standards. It’s unlikely the storm took down all the sensors. Also, our scanner range has decreased twenty percent since we left the canyon.”

Eril scowled over at her screen and reached across her to toggle the scans. “Did you double check against geo-sat readings?”

She pushed his arm away. “Pinging the beacon could bring down another mal data packet, as it did when the
Asphodel
confirmed her location. Besides, interference is too heavy to reach the satellites.”

“We punched through the storm front. We should be on the other side.”

“Apparently the storm isn’t interested in your explanations either,” she said. When he turned his scowl on her, she lifted her brows. “It seems the front has circled around. If the storm is vortexing already, then I believe—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“I don’t think you get a choice,” she told him. “The shriving has begun.”

Chapter 12

Eril tightened his grip on the steering shaft, as if he could throttle the storm into silence.

Or at least his passenger.

The note of awe in her voice as she summoned up a glitchy image of the circling storm bothered him. She shouldn’t be able to feel much of anything, not with her baseline programming still in place and her emotional development stunted by Hermitaj. She shouldn’t respond to the sting of rejection. She definitely shouldn’t be teasing him with the desire that had flared between them. She was supposed to be a tool for him to use. Instead, she was slowly coming to life right before his eyes.

He’d fought so long as the shadow of death, but the dawning light of her threatened to eclipse his dark reach.

This needed to end, sooner rather than later.

“Maybe we can’t see it, but Rampakh is less than thirty clicks,” he said, desperation speeding his words. “We’ll make a run for it.”

She shook her head, the white spikes of her hair flickering. “Won’t make it.”

“Don’t be negative,” he snapped.

“I’m not, but the ions in the storm are, and they’ll shred the runabout.”

“We’ll polarize it, like you did the
Asphodel
.”

“The battery is too small. We can’t generate a charge strong enough to protect us. We’d be dead in the sand.” She spread one hand over her console, her other hand darting over the controls, searching. “Here,” she said. “Another canyon. If we can make it there, we can wait out this wave of the storm and get to Rampakh before the next cycle. Probably.”

He grimaced. “Probably? If I ask you for the odds, I suppose you’ll give them to me.”

“And give you something else you don’t want? I think not.”

“Shaxi—”

She held up her hand, the calluses on her palm a stark contrast to the slenderness of her fingers. “I told myself I wouldn’t bring that up again.” She glanced at him, her dark eyes serious. “I didn’t run the odds because I’m not interested in luck. Just get us there. Fast.”

He wanted to argue with her—not about the coming storm, but about her thinking she could ignore the simmering tension between them—but she swiped her hand across the screen again.

“Effective scan range has dropped another thirty percent,” she said, all business. “If we want to find a place to hide, we need to do it now.”

Frustrated by his own conflicting impulses and the storm that seemed to mock his distraction with its own erratic volatility, he slammed the throttle forward.

The supply vehicle was built for hauling, but like everything else about the
Asphodel
, it had its secrets. The engine whined once in protest and then jumped to respond with more power than he expected. It shoved both of them back.

Shaxi, who had been half swiveled in her seat to check her screens, fell against him. She braced herself with a hand on his thigh, and to his mortification, blood surged through him, thickening his cock just enough that she had to have noticed before she straightened herself.

The runabout hit a rough patch. The three wheels on the port side lifted, knocking Shaxi into him again. In the stifling closeness, her inadvertent touch was like pure oxygen to a smoldering ember, and every nerve in his body flared up into a primitive, engulfing blaze.

He revved the engine to a higher pitch, careening them along the cliff wall. The wheels slewed over broken rock, sending the runabout sideways toward the wall, though he quickly righted them. After Shaxi almost slid into his lap.

“Stop it,” she snarled.

“You said fast,” he reminded her.

She whipped her head around, close enough that her hair, even as short as it was, tickled his cheek. She glared at him from close quarters. “You’re enjoying this.”

“More than I should,” he acknowledged.

The uncoiling lash of the sandstorm hit them. Even with the compartment sealed, he would’ve sworn the smell of dust was leaking through the filters. Or maybe it was just Shaxi’s fury as she shoved herself away from him. The force of the wind wedged under the nose of the runabout, as if it would flip them, and only the heavy, sturdy design kept them moving forward, though the engine groaned at the effort.

“Canyon is dead ahead,” Shaxi said.

“Deep enough to keep the ionization from destroying the runabout?”

“Lost scanners. Only one way to find out. Take us in.”

He wrenched the throttle over, knowing he’d only have one shot before the wind would grab the broad side of the vehicle and flip them. All the tires in the worlds wouldn’t help if they were upside down.

The storm tore at their plysteel skin, and the alien sand was a hundred million pinprick fingernails tearing down the side. He clenched his teeth, trying to block out the sound.

“Go deeper,” Shaxi shouted.

A laugh burst up from his chest, almost painful, but lost in the wild scream of the storm.

Without functional scanners, he was blind. The runabout caromed off something, a glancing blow that nevertheless bounced them both in their seats.

To his disappointment, Shaxi anchored herself this time before slamming into him. “Power has dropped to almost nil. I think we broke something.”

“Gotta ride it out.” Guided by the forward view screen and one flickering light, he steered the runabout through the twisting canyon.

A wall loomed up. He jerked the throttle hard, milking the last erg of power, before the screens blacked.

Silence.

In the darkness of the cabin, he heard Shaxi shift beside him.

“Out of the storm,” she murmured, her voice strangely intimate in the closed space.

“And dead in the sand.” His voice sounded ugly. He wished he hadn’t spoken.

“Not quite.”

The whisper of her breath, closer than he thought, made him jerk in surprise, and she leaned against his shoulder.

“Just… Hold on a sec,” she said. “I need to… There.”

The warm press of her body simultaneously froze and ignited him. She was half in his lap, her hip pressed over his groin. He shifted, not sure whether he was trying to get out of her way or make more room for her, and when he stretched his arm out, his hand brushed a taut, muscled curve. Her haunch. He sucked in a harsh breath.

Pale emergency lights blinked on. She had her palm over the interface on his console.

She turned her head to blink at him, and her gold eyes were the brightest thing he could see. “Let go of me.” Her tone was polite. Her eyes were not.

He lifted his hand and she slid back into her seat.

He swallowed against the tension in his throat. “What did you do?”

“Gave it some juice.”

“From yourself?”

She shrugged. “A cyborg trick. Easy enough to turn ready-to-eats into electricity. But it’s temporary. Hopefully long enough to figure out why the main battery cut out. We didn’t drain it, so we shouldn’t have lost power.”

“Severed a cable, maybe, when I missed that first turn.” He was amazed he could keep his tone level.

“That’s my guess too,” she said. “But we’ll have to check it out.”

“The storm.”

“We’re out of the worst of it.”

“The EM could still fry your implants. I’ll go out.”

She ignored him, reaching for her door. “You’ll need my help. And my cyber-embeds are protected by my human skin.”

He wanted to grab her, pull her back. “Technology is supposed to protect us, not the other way around.”

“Tell that to the ones pursuing the twins.” Without waiting for a reply, she popped the seal on the doors.

The stink of heavy dust rushed in, making them both cough. But after the first breath settled, the odor was softer, with a hint of spice. And something fresh.

“Water,” Shaxi said with surprise. “Here?”

Before he could stop her, she clambered out of the runabout, grabbing a pack from behind her seat.

Though the interior of the runabout had been silent, when Eril climbed out, the storm whined high above them. He imagined the wind playing over the rims of all the canyons like empty crystal glasses singing. Empty except for one other canyon where the
Asphodel
waited. Waited for an innocent cyborg and a traitorous assassin.