Defender (Battle Born Book 4) (8 page)

“Are they lovers?” Morgan asked. Clearly, she wasn’t aware of the connection either.

“Their relationship began several years ago, but—despite my adamant objections—Haven married Javin last summer.”

“Your sister is married to a guild master?” Nazerel still sounded wary.

“Not just any guild master. Master of the Integration Guild.” Morgan was even less subtle than Nazerel. “Why haven’t you asked for their assistance before now?”

Ulrik glared at her. “I will not endanger one sibling in pursuit of retribution for another.”

“How does a simple message endanger your sister?” Garin shook his head.

“It wouldn’t be a simple message,” Ulrik objected. “We’d be asking for information that only has one source. If we can suddenly track the
Relentless
, Quinton will know who helped us and why.”

“It should be Aunt Haven’s choice.” Berlynn looked at Ulrik as tears gathered behind her long lashes. “It takes so long for our messages to reach Rodymia. She might not even know about Vinton yet.”

Ulrik sighed, his wide chest visibly sinking. “I’ll think about it.”

After a reflective pause, Morgan cleared her throat. “We’re actually a bit off course. Vinton’s murder was not what brought us here today.”

And like an ember ignited by the wind, Ulrik Tandori was bluster and indignation all over again. “No, we’re here because the battle born want to steal our women!”

Chapter Four

With a frustrating sense of déjà vu, Milanni paced a cabin, waiting for the occupant to arrive. This cabin was smaller than Akim’s but still large by spaceship standards. She was waiting for Fyran…she didn’t even know his last name. Not that it mattered. Her purpose was to seduce him, not form a mating bond. Seduction was much easier when she knew her target and she’d not yet met Fyran. She knew he was a battle born warrior who served under the most ruthless commander in the fleet, but was he loyal to the crown or did he follow orders out of necessity?

The cabin door parted and Fyran walked into the room. At least she presumed it was Fyran. The computer hadn’t announced a visitor, so this was likely her target.

He spotted her as the door slid closed behind him. Drawing his flexblade, he narrowed his gaze and pointed the weapon at her head. Flexblades could morph from dagger to sword and back at the whims of the wielder. They were incredibly hard to control, which was one of the reasons battle born soldiers were so obsessed with them. Only the best and most disciplined were awarded flexblades. They were a status symbol as well as a lethal weapon.

“Who are you?” he snapped. “Why are you here?”

He was younger than she’d expected. His features were pleasant, perhaps even handsome if he were less fatigued. Battle born soldiers were all musclebound hulks, but there was a sophistication to Fyran’s face that she hadn’t expected. This might not be so bad after all. Young men all thought they were gods, wanted only to be worshiped, so she opted for a demure approach rather than unleashing Lady M.

She clasped her hands behind her back, forcing her breasts forward. Her outfit was anything but sexy. She’d had no idea she’d be groveling for protection when she dressed that morning. “I’m a gift from your commander, if you’re willing to accept responsibility for me.” She lowered her gaze and waited for him to react. She was at least ten years his senior. Still, she took good care of her face and figure so her age was hard to determine at first glance.

Moments ticked by in awkward silence. Was he still pointing his flexblade at her? She didn’t hear him move, but suddenly he was right in front of her. He curved his fingers beneath her chin and raised her face so he could see her eyes.

“Why?” His voice was low yet less hesitant.

She licked her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth. Hopefully igniting his imagination. She’d yet to meet a male who could resist that particular offer and she was particularly good at oral pleasures. “Why what? I don’t understand.”

“Why would Akim give me a gift? He barely tolerates his battle born crewmembers.”

Taking her clue from his earnest openness, she told him the truth, or as much of the truth as he needed to know combined with a few embellishments. “I’m in trouble. I witnessed a murder and now the family of the victim, as well as the murderer, is trying desperately to find me. I asked Akim if I could hide out here on the ship for a while. He agreed to let me
if
I could find someone to claim me as his body slave. I’m hoping that someone is you.”

“I don’t need a body slave.” He sounded offended by the idea.

“No one ‘needs’ a body slave. It’s a concept alien to anyone who works for a living. But Akim makes the rules. This is his ship.” She slowly reached out and placed her hand on his upper arm, doing her best to look innocent. “If you won’t do this for me, I’ll have to ask one of the others. I see kindness in your eyes. I’d rather serve you.”

He just stared at her, lips compressed, nostrils flaring.

She slid her hand down his arm, onto his chest and then lower.

Catching her wrist in one tight fist, he stopped her hand’s descent. “I will not take an unwilling female. The idea repulses me.”

“I’m willingly exchanging pleasure for protection. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.”

He swayed closer and the growing bulge in the front of his pants revealed the nature of his conflict. “Why would you be willing to barter with your body?”

She tensed, insulted by his objections. “Do you think I would have come to Akim if I had any other options? I’m desperate. I have nowhere else to go.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp and took a step backward. “I’m not unattractive.” She stumbled over the last word, hoping he’d correct her. “Can’t you find anything appealing about me?”

“Your appeal is not the problem. You’re stunning.”

Stunning? She couldn’t remember the last time anyone described her with that word. Lowering her lashes to hide her relief, she crossed her arms over her chest as she said, “I find you attractive too. Sharing pleasure with you will not be a sacrifice.”

His hand touched her upper arm, the contact shockingly gentle. “Are you sure? He isn’t forcing you to do this in some way?”

She looked into his eyes and lowered her arms to her sides, giving him access to the front of her blouse. “Akim had nothing to do with my mess. In his own twisted way, he’s being gallant.”

Fyran raised his other hand to her face, fanning out his fingers against her cheek as he traced her lips with his thumb. Oh his imagination had definitely engaged now. She could see it in his eyes.

“I claim you as my body slave.” His voice sounded rough almost choked. “You will serve only me.”

Thank the gods. A possessive master would be less likely to share her. “I serve you willingly and I will serve only you.”

Lust ignited the purple rings in his eyes and he quickly unbuttoned the front of her blouse. “I want to see you, all of you.”

She’d expected this. Many body slaves weren’t allowed to cover themselves. They were expected to be ready, willing and able to satisfy any need at any time. She toed off her shoes, tugged off her socks then shrugged out of her blouse. Her breasts were small and round, so she seldom bothered with a bra.

“Oh gods.” He groaned as he cupped one of her breasts and bent to lick the other. “You’re perfect, just perfect.”

He couldn’t see her face so she allowed herself to grin. He clearly didn’t get out much. Her body was average, ordinary. Still, an unfamiliar warmth washed over her at the praise. It had been a long time since anyone even pretended that she was special.

Without lifting his head, he unfastened her pants and pushed them down until they bunched around her knees. Then he lost interest in the task and slipped one of his hands between her thighs as the other pressed against the small of her back. He touched her boldly now, all hesitation gone. He didn’t seem to have a lot of experience, but he knew enough to stroke her clit as his fingers eased into her core.

“That’s good.” She sighed then wiggled out of her pants, giving him better access to her sex. His hands moved restlessly from one area to the next as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch her. Unless she was willing to play obedient slave for the duration of her stay on this ship, she needed to take control of the situation. “I want to please you.” She used a soft airy tone as if his touch had already made her breathless. She guided his hand away from her body then quickly sank to her knees.

“You don’t have to…” Even as the words escaped his mouth, he let her unfasten his uniform pants.

“Please. I want to.” Without bothering to undress him completely, she stroked his shaft and teased his tip with her tongue. He groaned and shuddered as if he’d never felt anything so wonderful. If he’d been raised by the military, as so many battle born males were, his opportunities for pleasure would have been few and far between.

Tilting her head back so she could watch his face, she slowly sucked his hardened length into her mouth. His neck arched, eyes tightly closed, as rapture overtook his expression. Such a simple act and already he was captive to her skill. She’d use pleasure to control him, subtly shaping his decisions as she made him desperate for release. She wasn’t yet sure what she wanted from him, but one thing was certain already. Before she was finished with Fyran, he’d obey her every command.

* * * * *

Chandar rushed across the courtyard and into her suite, terrified that someone would see her. The door slid closed behind her and she pressed her hand over her rapidly thumping heart. What was wrong with her? Even if someone realized she’d spent a few hours in Raylon’s arms, what difference would it make to anyone? They were both consenting adults and neither was committed to another. So why should anyone care what they did?

Frustration pushed a sigh past her lips as she went to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Sleeping in Raylon’s arms had been wonderful, comforting. Yet it also made her restless and discontent. If she wanted him to see her as more than a victim, she had to stop acting like one. Her memory of the past two years was still fragmented and hazy, but one thing was emerging from the mist. She had once been strong and confident, brave enough to defy her captors despite everything they’d done to her. She wanted to be that person again, needed Raylon to see the real Chandar.

As if in response to her conclusion, a memory surged to the surface in her mind. The scene had been part of the flickering deluge, but she remembered it clearly now. She stood toe to toe with Akim, angry, yet unafraid.

“Why do you continue to defy me?” His voice was cold and demanding. “Everything would be so much easier if you would just obey.”

“I spent the last three days meditating.”

“What else would you do? There’s nothing to destroy in the holding cell,” he countered with a cruel smile.

“My vison quests have never failed when I focus that completely.” It wasn’t an idle boast, but a statement of fact.

His brow arched, but he managed to sound bored. “What did the Creator show you, oh wise and wonderful harbinger?”

“Nothing. I looked into the future so I could see your death and I saw nothing.”

He scoffed. “So much for your faultless vision quests.”

“The vision quest didn’t fail. I sensed your death, but I couldn’t see it. There’s only one explanation. A harbinger can’t see her own future, so I must be the one who kills you.”

His mouth opened as if he would speak, but the words never came.

The scene faded back into the past, but Chandar could still see the fear in Akim’s eyes.

She sighed. That was the Chandar she wanted Raylon to meet. So how did she make that happen?

After brushing her teeth and braiding her hair, she donned the traditional robes of a female harbinger. A pale gray underdress was topped by a dark blue tunic. The tunic was sleeveless and slit up both sides, allowing more of the underdress to show. Only organic harbingers, those born with abilities, were allowed to decorate their tunics with silver embroidery. The design on Chandar’s tunic was intricate and elaborate, shimmering with every move she made.

Indigo was running even later than Chandar, so Chandar had finished breakfast by the time Indigo appeared in the doorway of the common dining room. “Do you want something to eat?” Chandar motioned toward the nutri-gen kiosk as she put her dishes in the recycler. “I’m in no hurry.”

“I’ll grab something later. My stomach isn’t awake yet.”

Chandar started to apologize for robbing her of sleep, but Raylon’s disapproving image materialized in her mind. He hated it when she apologized needlessly. It was another habit she intended to change.

“Are you awake enough for our session or should we find something else to do for a while?”

Indigo smiled and friendly challenge arched her brows. “I’d like to talk about last night.”

It was obvious Indigo meant the sleeping arrangements, but Chandar played dumb. “I’m not sure why I keep stalling out in the trance, but Raylon stumbled onto something that draws me back.”

“Meaning you want him to kiss you every time you have a vision?” Indigo laughed then shook her head. “Have you told him about his new responsibility?”

Not wanting anyone to overhear their playful conversation, Chandar motioned toward her suite. Privacy was more or less an illusion. Security routinely recorded what went on in sleeping quarters, but no one was allowed to access the recordings without a specific reason.

Indigo followed Chandar into the suite without comment, until she saw the neatly made bed. “All right, this is your friend asking not your therapist. Did you spend the night with Raylon or not?”

Emboldened by their friendship, Chandar explained, “I was in his room, even in his bed, but all we did was sleep.”

“For God’s sake, why?” Indigo lamented with enough passion to make Chandar laugh. “The chemistry between you two is ridiculous. Did he at least kiss you again?”

Chandar shook her head as she crossed to her favorite chair, tucked into the corner beside the bed. “I told you. He doesn’t think of me like that. I’m an assignment, a pesky little sister.”