Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series (11 page)

Makkon paused, his grip on her loosening slightly. Not enough that she could have pulled away, but she was tempted to try, anyway. He sighed and rested his face against the top of her head.

“Brax wants me to question you,” he said. “To find out about the secret you alluded to that’s here in the station.”

“What, by seducing me?”

“No, that was my idea. Any chance it would work?”

“Go to hell.”

“That’s not my religion, but I suppose it could happen, anyway.” He sighed again, sounding sad, or maybe regretful.

She thought he might let her go, but he didn’t. It dawned on her that if he didn’t question her through seduction, then the alternative would be less pleasant. Not that being pawed over by him would be pleasant, she told herself. She refused to acknowledge that what he had been doing so far had been appealing.

“Would you tell me if I promised to let you go?” He didn’t sound that hopeful, but he lowered his face to the side of her head, his jaw brushing her skin as he kissed her temple. For the first time, one of his hands came up to cup her breast, fingers feather light as they stroked her through her shirt.

She had to close her eyes and tell herself once again that she most assuredly was
not
enjoying his touch. The way her nipples hardened, prodding at the material, seemed to mock her thoughts. When his thumb brushed the tip, a jolt of desire arrowed through her, heat kindling anew in her core.

She knew what he was doing, that he was trying to get the answers without forcing her or hurting her. She didn’t know why he cared one way or another, but all this did was remind her that he was an enemy. He wanted information she could not give without betraying her uniform, betraying her people. She had already screwed up and said more than she should.

As his lips returned to her throat, leaving spirals of heat and desire everywhere they alighted, she had to fight to keep her thoughts clear and also not to arch toward his hand, the one stroking her breast with a touch so light it made her ache for more. She imagined him pulling her shirt off, cupping her with both hands and lowering his mouth to her nipple, taking her in and out, sweeping his tongue across her sensitive skin.

One of his hands lowered to her belt, fingers leaving a trail of fire as they grazed her belly. At first, she thought he would do as she had imagined, untuck her shirt and bare her breasts so he had better access to them. But he unfastened her belt, and her trousers sagged from her hips. He was still kissing her, grazing her throat with his teeth, sending waves of pleasure through her, but she could feel the heaviness of his breathing, how excited he was, and she had no delusions as to where this would lead. The realization of where he meant to go next, of what he meant to do, slapped her fantasies away. He was going to use the excuse that she could stop him any time by telling him what he wanted to make this all right for him. The hell with that.

She grabbed the back of his hand as it was slipping through her curls toward an area that was embarrassingly hot and damp. A ridiculous part of her wanted to push his hand further, to let him touch her, to lean into his touch and enjoy it, but she stopped him. He let her. Of course he did. He was waiting to see if she would give him the information he wanted.

“I’m not a traitor,” she said and pushed his hand away. The cool air that whispered across her exposed flesh was disappointing after the warmth of his skin, but she took solace in her words, determined to make them true.

“Your body may be,” he murmured. He’d let her push his lower hand away, but that muscular arm was still wrapped around her waist, and there was still no space between them, with his tall, powerful frame glued to her back, leaving little question as to what he wanted.

“Just because my body is stupid doesn’t mean
I
want anything to do with you. You force me to have sex with you, and that’s what it’ll be. Force.”

“I wasn’t going to—that’s not what I had in mind.” He sounded stung.

A part of her wanted to ask what he
had
had in mind, but she shoved that part away. It was being completely unhelpful here. “That’s not what your prick says. Now, why don’t you do the right thing and let me go?”

“That... I cannot do.”

She thought he meant he would continue, that he would find a way to force her to answer his questions, but he released her and stepped back. After drawing in a shaky breath, he waved for her to fasten her trousers. He sat her in a chair, the one secured to the deck in front of the powered-down environmental control panel. He pulled out handcuffs, not flex cuffs or anything modern that used an energy field, but a pair of gleaming steel handcuffs. He snapped one end around her wrist, pulled it behind the chair, and found a bar to snap the other end around.

Makkon stepped back and considered her, his chin clasped in his hand. Then he turned toward the communications console, knelt in front of it, and tore open a panel with a bunching of his muscles and a wrenching of metal. She gaped as he glanced at a schematic on the back of the panel, then reached inside, pulled a few wires, and withdrew the fist-sized power supply. All of the displays and indicators on top of the console went dark.

Apparently, he didn’t want anyone sending messages until enough time had passed that they might receive an answer to theirs. Not that she would have been able to do so while handcuffed to the chair. Maybe he was thinking of Porter.

“Going somewhere?” Tamryn asked when he turned toward the door. She wondered why he would leave her here instead of returning her to the lounge with the other prisoners. It would be nearly two days before they could expect an answer to their message, and the comm system was clearly out of order now. What reason did he have for keeping her here? Would she be locked in here alone for the next two days?

“Yes.” Makkon returned to her chair and rested a hand on the side of her head. “I doubt you’ll think it the right thing, either, but I’m going to find some interrogation drugs.”

Ah, she wouldn’t be alone for the next two days. Just until he returned to get his answers.

Tamryn glowered up at him and lifted her free arm, intending to shove his hand away. But she paused when she saw his face. At some point, she had come to know it well enough to see more than the fierce tattoo and the hard jaw. Now, she could read the wryness in his expression, how it was mingled with sadness. He didn’t want to do this; that’s what his face said. Maybe it was an act, but why would he bother? There was tenderness in his expression, too, and that shocked her most at all. Why would he care anything about her? She’d been fighting him since she met him, and she’d done her best to kill him.

“Tamryn,” he said softly.

A jolt went through her at the familiarity in his voice.

“At least I know your first name now.” He rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, then lifted it back to her head, letting it slide through her hair, which had fallen out of its regulation clip long ago. His hand lingered when he reached the ends, rubbing her locks between his fingers, then he let go of her. By the time he reached the door, the determined hard-to-read face had returned, and he didn’t look back.

Left alone, Tamryn swallowed and stared at the floor. Interrogation drugs. If she blurted secrets under the influence of some drug, it would still be deplorable, but it wouldn’t feel like such a betrayal. No, the betrayal was that a part of her wished she had let him continue, that she’d found out exactly what he’d had in mind.

“Traitor,” she mumbled, glaring down at her body.

Part 2: Seduction

Chapter 8

After Makkon left Pavlenko handcuffed to the chair in the communications room, he strode to the lift. He ought to retrieve the interrogation drugs swiftly, so he could return before she found a way to free herself, but he stood there and planted a hand on the wall for support. For the first time all night, he was barely aware of the pain in his leg. All he could think about was what he had wanted to do in there with Pavlenko—with
Tamryn
. What he had almost justified doing.

Oh, he hadn’t planned to take her, as much as his cock had wanted him to—it still pressed painfully against his trousers, trying to spring free. He had thought he could bring her to an orgasm, pleasure her with his fingers, his mouth, make her want to tell him everything she knew. No, that had been his excuse. What he’d really wanted was to make her want
him
. And then maybe, in the aftermath of her pleasure, she would have turned around and slung her legs around his hips to ride him. Brax’s request had made it seem acceptable to touch her to try and get answers, a part of their mission, nothing more. And it had excited him that her body had responded to his touch, even though he’d known her mind hadn’t; he’d felt her struggle with herself, with him. No matter how intense his fantasy, he hadn’t quite been able to forget that she was a prisoner and that his actions were deplorable.

Even now, knowing and accepting that he’d been wrong, he couldn’t stop thinking of her, the feel of her hot body in the comm room and the way the scent of her sweat and shampoo and arousal had made it hard to think of anything except animal desires—lust. He remembered stalking her through those tunnels, the way she’d never given in to her fear, the way she’d tried to drive him away, then to fool him. The fact that she’d shot him when none of the other soldiers had managed it. She’d impressed him from the start, and everything that had happened since had only reinforced that feeling.

Makkon growled to himself, unable to calm his desire.

Why couldn’t she be someone on his team instead of someone on the other side? He wished he could explain everything to her and that she might understand or even sympathize with him, but history proved that never happened. If she found out what he was, who his ancestors had been, she would want nothing to do with him. No, if he had any hope of winning her sympathy, it couldn’t involve revealing too much.

But right now, he needed to get a handle on himself and return his mind to the mission, on interrogating her in a more acceptable manner. Even as he told himself that, his thoughts returned to the comm room, to the position they had shared, him behind her, pressed against her back. He imagined yanking her trousers down, bending her over that console, and taking her.

“Damn it,” he muttered, hating himself for fantasizing so inappropriately, but he gave up and hit the emergency stop button.

He unbuckled his belt and took his straining cock in his hand. He had no lube and was too ashamed of his fantasies to feel anything but frustration, but he needed the release. He jerked his hand up and down, unable to drive the image of himself ramming into Tamryn out of his mind, and not sure he wanted to, no matter how out of line it was. He came with a roar, frustration, shame, and desire exploding from him with a final pump of his hand.

Panting, Makkon leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the wall. He wasn’t sure he felt better, but at least he didn’t feel like a volcano waiting to erupt. He might not be able to look Tamryn in the eyes later, but maybe now he could concentrate on his mission. Especially since his mission involved getting those drugs and returning to her. A part of him wanted to quail away from the task, to find someone else to question her, but his hackles rose at the idea of letting Brax or anyone else near her, someone who would be indifferent to her comfort and who might hurt her. Whether she hated him or not, he couldn’t stop thinking of her as
his
prisoner, and he would protect her.

Makkon buckled himself back into his trousers and thumped the button for the engineering level with the side of his fist. Back to work. He could do this.

• • • • •

Even if the cold metal handcuffs weren’t as technologically sophisticated as flex cuffs, they did their job effectively and kept Tamryn attached to the chair. She had, however, managed to contort herself, nearly twisting her shoulder out of its socket, so she now stood behind the chair instead of sitting in it. That gave her more reach. She couldn’t touch the communications console, but that didn’t matter, not with the power supply missing, so she decided she’d try to reach the locker by the door, the one she’d armed herself from earlier. She couldn’t remember what remained inside of it—she knew she had given Wu all of the grenades in there—but there might be something she could use to lubricate her wrist or perhaps cut the metal.

Unfortunately, no matter how she stretched and strained, her fingers missed the latch by an inch. Frustrated, she looked around the base of environmental console. That had been where Wu had set his trap, one that had clearly been disarmed. She wished these invaders were as dumb as they looked, with their brutish clothing and tattoos, but unfortunately, that hadn’t proven the case so far. She thought of the way Makkon had gauged Gruzinsky without knowing anything about the man, assessing him and deciding he could get close enough to disarm him. She remembered the way he had coolly and calmly proceeded to nullify those explosives, any one of which would have killed them all if it had gone off. His fingers had been deft, sure. Much as they had been when they had stroked her breasts, creating exquisite sensations even through the fabric of her shirt. Even now, her body flushed at the memory, her core tingling as she wondered where those fingers would have gone after unbuckling her belt, if she hadn’t objected.

Tamryn growled at herself. “Stop it. He’s a monster, and he’s the enemy.”

She returned to patting along the textured decking and peering into the corners. It was wishful thinking, hoping to find a discarded grenade lying in a corner, but maybe there was
something
. Her practice dummy from her knife-throwing session lay on its side, on a console in the corner of the room. If she could get out of here, it might be useful as a distraction later, but she couldn’t reach it now, nor could it help free her.

She glimpsed a coil of thin, broken wire on the floor in the corner. Ah, that might prove useful. She couldn’t reach it with her hand, but managed to drop to the deck and nudge it over with her foot. It was the remains of the trip wire Wu had set. Though less than a millimeter thick, the wire was strong, and she had about two feet to work with. Her first thought was that there might be some lock on the handcuffs that she could pick with it, but she didn’t see a hole. Though they looked primitive, they might be fingerprint activated.