Morgan's Choice (14 page)

He fingered his chin. “Fascinating. So this
dress can only be worn by Supertechs?”

“No. It comes with a little control that
interacts with the dress. Ordinary women dial up the settings and
the control does the work. I have the advantage of being able to
manipulate the settings without the control.”

He seemed impressed, interested. “Where is
this processor?”

She put her hand around to the back of her
neck and pulled out the tag. Ravindra stood behind her to see. She
inhaled his scent, a spicy, musky tang mixed with fresh-laundered
uniform. His fingers brushed her skin as he bent over her neck,
examining the tag. Her body tingled at his touch, all the way down
to her groin.

“Which part is the processor?”

“The tiny silver dot.”

He grunted and stepped away. She breathed out
again. The way this man made her feel was entirely too sensual.

“I think your success today deserves a small
celebration.” He waved a hand and Tullamarran materialized from
wherever he’d been, bearing a tray holding two beautiful,
half-filled glasses.

She hesitated. She didn’t know what this was,
what effect it would have on her. If she refused he wouldn’t be
happy. Besides, she didn’t have to drink it all. She took a glass,
long-stemmed, clear and delicate, and held it up to the light. Tiny
bubbles skittered through the palest of green liquid. She sniffed.
The smell reminded her of grass on a summer’s day. She sipped.
Lovely. Cool, dry and the bubbles tingled in her mouth.

“Delicious.”

“
Congratulations on your success
today,
Suri
.” Ravindra
raised his glass in a kind of salute and drank. Morgan followed
suit. This stuff was certainly easy to drink.

“Come. Dinner.” He led her to the table.

Sitting down was so much easier. The dress
flowed over her knees and around the pouf. Ah, bliss. They sat
opposite each other, as usual, while Tullamarran served soup from a
pot into small bowls.

“
Your work with the
Yogina
ship?” he said.

“I’ve made a start. I think I understand the
code structure. But I can’t read anything on the brain ball yet,
only follow the responses from the signals.”

“Is this because the ball is no longer in the
creature’s brain?”

“Could be. Actually that makes sense. The
signal drives the creature but there’s no creature to drive.”

“
But if you had a living
Yogin
, you would
be able to control it?”

“Maybe.” She almost picked her spoon up first
but caught herself just in time and took a mouthful of wine
instead. Tullamarran had refilled the glass. “It’s early days. I
need more time.”

He seemed happy enough with that. “Yes. Ah,
well, you will have all the time you need.”

Ravindra picked up his bowl in one hand, the
spoon in the other, and started to eat. Morgan followed suit.
Fishy, spicy, stacked with strange vegetables and short noodles.
When she’d finished most of the contents, she put the bowl down,
the spoon inside.

“We make planetary orbit soon. You will have
three nights alone while I talk to the worthies of Kerala.”
Irritation colored his normally even tone.

A pirate attack, she’d heard. Thousands
killed or homeless, widespread damage to cities. But the
perpetrators were long gone.

“What will you do?” Morgan said.

“The only thing I can do. I will send troops
and equipment to assist the locals where possible.” He drank
another mouthful of wine. “Be that as it may, this will be the
first planetary leave for quite a number on this ship for months.
Although the terrorist attack will dampen the enjoyment.”

“And you?”

“It will be three days of meetings with the
planetary leaders, assurances to the wealthy and powerful, public
functions, news conferences. Boring.” His eyes twinkled with humor.
“The ordinary rank and file not involved with the rescue effort
will have much more fun fraternizing with the locals and swelling
the coffers of the restaurants and the whore-houses. I doubt it
would be different in your fleet.”

True enough. She nodded. “Food and sex.” Not
necessarily in that order, which just went to prove that while the
virtual sex programs filled a need, it seemed there was nothing
like the real thing. She really needed to stop thinking about
sex.

Tullamarran served the main course,
something that resembled tubers stuffed with meat, spicy of course.
She’d long since given up trying to understand what everything was,
simply swallowed what they gave her. Time was she wouldn’t have
been able to eat more than a few spoonsful without having to drink
a jug of water. Now, she could even pick different subtle flavors
in the spice. The wine complemented the food, reducing its heat and
she drained the glass.

Dinner over, Morgan sat in the sitting room,
another glass of wine at her elbow, and listened to a haunting
melody played mainly with stringed instruments. It reminded her of
moonlight on the ocean, all those years ago on Sal Moneo. The wine
had made her mellow, or maybe even a little bit melancholy.

“It’s a little different from your usual
music,” she said when the last notes ended. He had a wide taste
that varied from the strident and sometimes discordant popular
music to orchestral pieces and chamber music. But this piece had a
haunting quality she’d not heard before.

“It’s one of my favorite pieces.” He seemed
distracted, as if he had something on his mind. “A beautiful piece
for a beautiful woman.”

The tremor she felt at his words positively
frightened her. She should leave. He’d probably have things to
organize for all those meetings tomorrow. She rose, feeling a
little unsteady. Too much wine. Her hands smoothed down the dress,
the material soft and smooth to her touch. “I’ll wish you good
night, Admiral.” She added the bow.

“Must you go?”

He was a step away from her before she
realized he’d moved, gazing down at her with those disturbing amber
eyes.

Her heart beat a little faster. “I expect
you’ll have things to prepare.”

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

His fingers traced a line down her cheek,
brushed against her hair. “Do you kiss?” He bent his head to brush
her lips with his.

She should say no. She should stop. “I…”

Before she could say any more he’d lifted
her against him, locking an arm under her buttocks, his other hand
in her hair while his mouth covered hers. Her lips parted and she
responded before she had time to think, his tongue in her mouth,
the hot scent of him stimulating her every nerve. His cock, ramrod
stiff inside his pants, pushed against her groin, turning her
insides to water, her nipples hard. Too long without a man.
No, I shouldn’t do
this
.

Hands on his shoulders, she tried to push
away from him “I never have sex with men I work for.”

So close to her, his eyes positively
smoldered. His scent filled her head, seductive and familiar.

“You wish me to believe that I am alone in
this?” he whispered. “I can smell you, woman, almost taste you on
my tongue. You want this as much as I do.”

Smell her? Good grief, was this another
small difference between the species? Did she smell like a bitch in
heat? His mouth pressed against hers, insistent, demanding, his
tongue probing between her lips, seeking entry. Oh, what the hell;
no strings attached. Her arms tightened around his neck as her
tongue met his.

He scooped her up, an arm under her knees and
carried her to his bedroom. His fingers fumbled with the dress.
“How does it unfasten?”

Light-headed, she adjusted the material and
it slithered down her hips onto the floor. His hands slid over her
skin, a light touch that sent shivers of desire pulsing through
her.

He struggled out of his jacket between
kisses, pulled off his undershirt while she shed her panties. Oh,
God he was gorgeous. Muscular arms accentuated by the tattoo that
covered his right shoulder, rippling abs. They collapsed onto the
bed together. He flicked her already straining nipples with the tip
of his tongue while he pushed his fingers into her, stroked her
clit.

She squirmed, rubbing herself against him,
kneading his shoulders. “Please, now, do it now.”

He unfastened his trousers and slid his cock
into her, easy as a piston into a cylinder. God, what a cock. Rock
hard and thick enough to fill her. Moaning, she arched her back,
wrapped her legs around him. “Oh, this is so good.”

He took his time, no thirty-second sky
rocket, this man. He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him
and sucked her nipples while she rode him and then when she was
sure he’d finish he lifted her off him and took her from
behind.

Ripples of ecsta
sy raced through her like a tsunami, making her
arch and buck. “Oh yes, oh yes.”

He hammered into her, pressing deep as he
came and slumped, panting, onto her body, his lips near her
ear.

“Wonderful,” he murmured. “You screw like a
tart.”

She frowned, face against the pillow.
“What?”

“
It is a compliment,
Suri
. Every man wants a tart in his bed.”

He withdrew and pulled off the rest of his
clothes. She rolled over and raised herself on her elbows, ready to
go but he pushed her down gently, brushed his lips against hers and
lay on his stomach with an arm over her body. “I will want more of
this.”

Soon enough he went to sleep, whiffling
softly.

Morgan stared at the ceiling. Great. Now
he thought she was a tart. Bloody stupid foolish bitch in heat.
Idiot. Too much wine. She wriggled out from under his arm, careful
not to wake him, and slipped on her dress and panties. Her shoes in
her hand she tiptoed toward the door.

Back in her quarters she sidled past Roy’s
room and into her own. She shed her clothes and went into the
shower, letting hot water course over her skin. Her lips stung,
bruised from kisses and her nipples were a little bit sore.
This isn’t going to
last. You’re just a diversion for him
.
An exotic diversion. There’ll be women down there falling
over themselves to entertain the senior officers.
Whatever else she might be, she
wasn’t light entertainment for anybody.

Life just got an awful lot more
complicated.

Chapter
Sixteen

Ravindra climbed into the shuttle, his
adjutant a step behind him. The harness deployed around him,
holding him fast in the seat. What a woman. It had been better than
he could even have imagined, better than his fantasies. Just
thinking about her was enough to bring on an erection. She’d left
him. Why was beyond him. He’d woken, wanting more and she was gone.
He would have liked one last fond farewell before breakfast. At
least one.

Its engines revving, the shuttle lifted
and drifted toward an airlock.

He’d be busy for three days. They would
organize women for the evenings but the only one he wanted was
here, on his flagship. As well that a journey on a shuttle only
took half an hour.

The ship dived into the atmosphere,
cutting through a thick cloud band stained brown from smoke,
shuddering and jolting as the stabilizers whined. The assault ships
carrying the troops and equipment wouldn’t be far behind. They were
in for a rough trip.

Beneath the clouds the island-studded
ocean rolled, a crinkled grey carpet streaked with white. Kerala’s
capital emerged from the murk, a rapidly enlarging mass set around
a wide bay. Electra had been beautiful, a glittering city of tall
buildings, wide avenues and broad plazas. Now, dirty brown clouds
hung like shrouds around still-standing towers, their bases
surrounded by shattered remains. The shuttle slowed and dropped,
angling toward an island in the bay. He looked down on a green park
of formal gardens, designed to be seen from the air, around a huge
house. Broken trees still smoldered in a forest well away from the
building. Workers and vehicles, ant-like, labored at a clean-up.
Gupta’s mansion; requisitioned for this meeting since the
Governor’s palace had been destroyed.

The shuttle dropped gently down on a paved
courtyard in front of the house, the carved pillars of its façade
bright with color. Governor Fohrai and his security guard waited to
one side, out of the way of the blast of displaced air as the ship
settled. Ravindra’s escort alighted first, weapons ready, forming a
corridor. When they were deployed, Ravindra, Lindar at his heels,
strode between the ranks to where Fohrai waited.

The Governor bowed, a short motion of the
head as befitted an exchange of equals. “Welcome,
Admiral
.
I’m pleased to
see you again. Even if the circumstances…” Fohrai waved a tired
hand. He looked weary, eyes reddened, skin sagging. “Come in. I’m
sure Gupta’s kitchen can afford some decent
charb
.” He gestured toward the mansion’s arched front
doors. Ravindra strode beside him.

“I’ve read the reports. Is Gupta behind
this?” Ravindra said.

Fohrai glanced at him. “We have no proof. But
it bears his signature. Word’s already out on the street. ‘The
Mirka can’t protect us. We need our own planetary militia.’”

“And what does it matter if a few expendable
people die on the way?” They didn’t seem to care that they killed
their own people. All for a stupid power game. He pushed down the
anger. It would not serve here.

The doors opened at their approach. Fohrai
led the military officers to what would normally be a dining room.
A massive rojawood table with matching chairs stood on a carpet
intricately woven in a myriad of colors, a work of art in its own
right. Gilt-framed pictures lined the walls, the ceiling glittered
with decoration, the side-cabinets displayed vases and statuary. An
opulent, over-blown, garish display of too much money. Ravindra sat
down on a chair upholstered in blue and gold brocade. Lindar, on
his right, handed him a data panel that showed the seating
plan.