No Words Alone (14 page)

She shoved those questions aside as a new thought
occurred to her. The Scorpio didn’t need the hassle of the GE. What
they needed were allies. If she herself was any indication, humans
and Scorpio were compatible races. If she could use her position to
help foster peace between them, it could help them both enormously.
If the Interplanetary Council could be convinced to rein in the GE
(or at least send them exploring in another direction) this could
work. Her life could count for more than she’d ever dreamed.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Xera settled down to
think.

Ryven found his wife curled on the couch hours later
when he returned. A glance at the main viewscreen showed a video
about the Khun’tat still playing. She must have fallen asleep
watching, instead of switching to lighter fare. As he scooped her
up and carried her to bed, he wondered if she’d had nightmares.

She stirred, saw it was him and relaxed. He smiled to
himself as he helped her undress and slide under the sheets. In
moments he was with her, curled around her sleeping body.

Xera woke to find herself in a heated tangle with her
lover. Ryven had surely gotten less sleep than she, but he had
woken first and was presently kissing her neck. She sleepily arched
to give him better access before reality trickled in.

“Hey,” she rasped, giving him a half-hearted elbow.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why?” He licked his way up to her ear and suckled,
sending chills down every nerve. Even her fingers tingled.

Not for one moment did she think he didn’t know why.
“We’re waiting to be married.”

“Compromise,” he murmured. It sounded more like a
command than a suggestion.

She sat up and frowned at him, the sheet clutched to
her chest. “You don’t compromise; you sweep in and take over.”

He smirked. “So far that’s been to your benefit.”

She ignored his comment. “Look, this a weird
situation and I’m blaming you for that. First we were engaged, then
virtually married in that ceremony I had no control over. You
seduced me, too, which to my mind constitutes a verbal breach of
promise.”

“Next time get a written contract,” he advised her,
his head propped up on one hand. He looked sleepily entertained and
deliciously mussed.

Her eyes narrowed. She was not going to laugh at him
when she was trying to make a point, or she’d lose this
argument...though so far it had been an argument of one. “The point
is, I’m not about to give up any more of my seriously strained
virtue.”

“Then take mine,” he suggested before she could
continue her harangue.

“What?”

Those brimstone eyes sparked with mischief. “You can
hardly sully what I no longer possess.” When she just stared at
him, uncomprehending, he took her hand and brought it to his chest.
He leaned back against the pillows. “I like it when you touch me,
too.”

She blushed, unable to meet his eyes. In all their
interactions, he’d always taken the lead, had always made love to
her. Put on the spot, she didn’t know quite what to do.

He wasn’t inclined to make it easy for her, either.
He crossed his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling
like a lazy cat. “Coward.”

She gasped indignantly. “It’s not like I’ve ever done
this before!”

“Hm. Well, you have a willing victim.”

“Victim,” she muttered, and got distracted by all
that bare chest. Miles of hard muscle stretched out under her
fingertips. Her mouth went dry. Her fingers twitched, and suddenly
she was trailing her fingers over him, exploring all the grooves
and planes. He hummed when she traced his nipples and growled when
she trailed her fingers over his belly. It was a powerful feeling,
watching all that powerful animal flexing under her hands. She even
trailed her fingers up to his neck and buried them in his hair, the
better to lean over and breathe in his scent.

“I can’t help but notice you’re avoiding looking
below the sheets,” he said huskily. “Aren’t you curious?”

She muttered something, avoiding his eyes.

“What?”

“I’m shy!”

He grinned. “I won’t bite.”

She half laughed even as she sent him a look of
rebuke. After a moment her hand edged toward the blanket.

Ah, his wife was killing him, Ryven thought as he
closed his eyes, but he didn’t want to be saved. He looked through
his lashes as she lowered the sheet, saw her eyes dilate. She’d
seen him before (he’d seen to that) but she always averted her
eyes. This time she was looking, trailing a tentative finger down
the length of him.

“It’s so hard,” she said, as if she couldn’t help
herself. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Enjoy it,” he encouraged her. “You’ll never see
another one.”

“Arrogant,” she chided him, but her hand circled him
just the same. He inhaled sharply and she started to let go. He
grabbed her hand before she could. “Don’t stop. Feels good.” He
curled his hand over hers, firming up her grip, then showed her how
to move up and down. After all, she was driving him mad.

He was not tame in his passion, arching and moaning
his pleasure. A glance at her showed how his voice made her cheeks
flush, her lips part, but after that he stopped analyzing her
reactions. She took instruction very well; he couldn’t wait to see
what else she took to.

He showed her how to speed up when he needed it, let
her watch to the blessed end when the climax took him. Let her
watch...let her want.

She fetched him a washcloth and herself a robe. She
sat quietly on the bed, seemingly unsure what to do with herself.
He fixed that by pulling her down into his arms for a kiss. “I’m
not in the habit of leaving a woman hungry,” he told her, his hand
trailing teasingly over her hip. “Say the word.”

She groaned and pulled away. “Your brand of
satisfaction is torture.”

He caught her hand before she could slide off the
bed, brought it to his lips. “For now, I will let you rest. It
won’t be long before we’ll be spending days in bed...and there will
be no resting then.” He bounded up and swept her into his arms on
the way to the shower, where, in spite of himself, he did get a
little carried away. Soap and hot water and a naked woman could do
that to a man.

He did not, however, take her virginity. She did not
thank him for the favor.

Chapter 11

Ryven kept his hands off her on the diplomacy ship.
It helped that he was the captain and chose to keep long hours, but
the situation was also deliberate; the love play without
consummation was difficult for him, too. It didn’t help that the
last time he had touched her, she had begged him to finish. His own
physical torment he could take, but her begging was another matter.
It did things to him, things he was unwilling to examine.

He didn’t want his wife to beg.

He treated her with courtesy, though, and gave her a
tour of the ship. To her delight, he even took her to the hangar
where the star fighters were stored. She looked around the huge
space with appreciation, and stroked the nose of one fighter with
something approaching reverence. Her eyes were wide, hopeful. “Can
we sit inside?”

“It’s a single cockpit,” he told her, but gestured
indulgently toward it. He helped her in, then stood outside on the
retractable step while she settled into the seat. There was no
danger of her getting into mischief with the power off; and just as
well. That look in her eyes would tempt him to give her far greater
liberties. It was best he never tell her.

She looked startled when the seat adjusted to her
body. “It moves!”

He grinned. “It’s a pressure sensitive seat; very
helpful when gravity tries to flatten you.”

She murmured her appreciation and touched the control
yoke. “This is similar to our controls, but your displays are very
different. If I remember my studies, this panel is
touch-sensitive?” Her fingers delicately traced the dash before
her. She touched the thin brow band resting there. “These are the
mental interfaces, aren’t they? The ship adjusts to your
thoughts.”

He considered her. “I see those hours you’ve spent
reading are paying off.”

She flushed. “You’ve been checking up on me.”

“I like to know what interests you,” he said
smoothly. “Didn’t you think someone had to approve the flight
manuals and schematics you’ve downloaded?”

Her face grew hotter. “I like to fly.”

“I remember you telling my father this. It’s the
reason I indulged you,” he admitted.

It wasn’t arrogance that made him sure she’d never
try to fly a fighter alone. It took many months of intense training
to learn all the basics and become certified, even if one had
trained on another kind of aircraft. They were complex machines,
and he’d no more be able to intuit one of her ships than she would
this one, not without study. Take off and landing systems alone
could be very different, potentially lethal to the uninitiated.
That didn’t even touch on the computer guidance system or weapons.
One never knew how a strange ship would adjust to space vs.
atmospheric flight, and she was experienced enough to know
that.

She wouldn’t be able to sneak it past security,
anyway.

“You can fly this model in the simulators, but we
will stick to shuttlecraft when we get back home.” He waited until
she looked at him and steeled himself against the disappointment in
her eyes. “I thought I could take you up when we returned.” Because
there was no way he was letting her fly any farther away from home,
not alone.

She bit her lip. Disappointment flickered over her
face, but she said hopefully, “But I can fly this one in the
simulator?”

“Yes.” What harm could it do? Though she’d fly a real
fighter when he was stone cold dead. They were not toys.

So he took her to the flight simulators. Any regret
she might have felt seemed to fade as they entered the room. She
examined the different models like a woman shopping for holiday
gifts. Her eyes were shining as she climbed into a double cockpit
with him. “Can we install one of these in our house?”

He grinned at her. “There’s no need. I can show you
where to go to find them when we get back. Better yet, I can take
you flying with me and train you on a live craft.”

On a live craft?

Xera badly wanted to kiss her soon-to-be husband, but
she knew he wouldn’t allow it while he was in uniform. He was
surprisingly stuffy for a man who went wild in private. Instead,
she took his hand and silently squeezed, very hard.

His eyes warmed. “You can thank me properly
later.”

Xera was so excited she missed some of his
explanations of the controls and he had to repeat them, along with
an admonishment to calm down. She took a deep breath and focused.
It wasn’t like she’d never been in a simulator, or even a real
craft, before. Still.

He had chosen a shuttlecraft for her first “flight,”
and it didn’t take her long to adapt to the controls. Compared to a
fighter, the craft was much more intuitive, built for simplicity.
Even so, her take off was gruesome and the flight clumsy. The
differences in the ship from what she was used to made turns
tricky. He watched silently as they cruised over virtual hills and
joined a flight pattern above a busy terminal. She never got to
find out how the landing would be. With the anti-collision system
turned off, she managed to collide with another shuttle in
mid-air.

She sat silently watching as the world burst into
flames around them.

“You could have been worse,” he said
thoughtfully.

She shot him a look, then laughed at herself. “It
is
an unfamiliar ship. I’ll adjust. I’ve got to admit to
being embarrassed, though. It’s been a long time since I crashed
and burned.” She was thoughtful for a moment then said, “I hear
you’re a pretty good pilot.”

“Do you?” His expression was enigmatic. “Have you
ever flown a fighter simulator?”

“Yes, and I’d love to try one of yours. What I’d
really enjoy more right now, though, is to see you fly one. I admit
I’m very curious.”

“Hm.” He unfastened his safety harness and joined her
outside the simulator. He then directed her to a viewing area along
with the simulators’ technicians while he chose a fighter
simulator. It didn’t look like much from the outside, of course;
just an egg-shaped pod like all the others. He climbed inside and
sealed the door.

Xera sat in a chair and watched the viewscreens come
up. The room dimmed slightly to focus more attention to the screen.
She would see everything he was seeing.

“Run simulation Yega-zero,” one of the techs said to
another. “Level ten.” The tech setting up the program looked
surprised, but he did as ordered.

Maybe that program was rarely run? Xera thought to
herself, but she kept quiet and watched the alien glyphs run across
Ryven’s screens.

Ryven calmly ran through his preflight as they
talked. “Ship one, ready for launch.”

“Go, ship one,” the tech cleared him.

Ryven’s fighter cleared the docking bay and glided
outside the hangar, then took off in a burst of speed as two alien
fighters charged him. Ryven fired, hit one, disabling it, then
banked right, dodging a barrage of return fire from the remaining
ship. He took an impossibly tight U-turn upside down and destroyed
the remaining ship as two more appeared behind him. Enemy craft
came in fast with a hailstorm of laser fire, swarming Ryven’s ship
like mosquitoes around a nudist. He’d roll to avoid three only to
surface facing two more. He was fast with his attacks, snapping off
shots and rolling away before they could hit him.

He took some damage, though. No one could fight so
many and not be grazed, but he took his ship past the limits and
made it do things that left Xera in awe. All told, he took out
eleven ships in a pitched battle that should have killed him in the
first minute. That kind of fighting took years of experience. She
had to hold herself very still when he came out of the cockpit to
keep from throwing herself at him. She could feel her eyes glowing
with pride and the love she felt for him.