Relic of Sorrows: Fallen Empire, Book 4 (26 page)

She stalked out, shaking with rage and indignation. She couldn’t believe he had been trying to brainwash her, maybe to rape her, damn it. How far would he have taken that? The sun gods knew there was a reason her people had gone to war with his and been behind blowing up their home world.

Trembling, she turned down the corridor toward her cabin, wanting to jump inside and lock the hatch, afraid Abelardus would follow. What would she do if he did?

When she drew even with Leonidas’s hatch, she stopped there. Had he gone back to his cabin? He would be far more protection than anyone else if Abelardus
did
follow her. More than that, she wanted to explain what that had been, that she hadn’t willingly kissed Abelardus. She might not know if Leonidas had romantic feelings for her, but she knew she didn’t want him thinking that she had romantic feelings for
Abelardus
. He would surely think less of her. And if he
did
have feelings for her, she wouldn’t want him thinking that she had chosen that ass over him.

She knocked on his hatch, looking toward the intersection, still afraid Abelardus might stalk after her. The right choice. A good man. Please. All she knew was that he hadn’t paid her a lick of attention until he’d decided she had Starseer genes. Now, all of a sudden, he thought she would be a good choice for making babies?

“Ass,” she growled again, almost missing that Leonidas’s hatch had opened.

“Not me, I trust,” he said quietly, warily.

“That wasn’t what you think,” she rushed to say.

“It’s none of my business,” he said. “I heard people talking in NavCom and thought something might have changed. With the station. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You weren’t intruding. Trust me. Can I come in? Please?” She glanced toward the intersection again, though it remained empty.

Leonidas stepped aside.

Alisa hurried in, almost amused as she remembered there had been a time when she hadn’t wanted to be alone with
him
, when she had been worried about going into his cabin by herself. He shut the hatch, and she spun toward him. She meant to speak, to explain what had happened, but instead found herself flinging her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

At first, he did not move, did not seem to know what to do, but eventually, his arms came around her. She hugged him tighter, clenching her eyes shut, tears leaking out. She wasn’t sure why the tears were there, just that she was frustrated that she had been so weak-willed as to let Abelardus get as far as he had.

“That wasn’t my choice,” she said, her voice muffled since her lips were pressed against his shoulder. “He made me—I mean, he was in my head, trying to
convince
me. I can’t stand him. I’d never kiss him.”

Would he believe her? She worried he wouldn’t. Or that he would think she was pathetic for succumbing to that mind manipulation. Or he’d ask
why
Abelardus would have any interest in her, and then she would have to explain her newly discovered genes. Leonidas hated Starseers. Would he hate her too?

“He tried to force you?” Leonidas asked, his voice like ice, his body growing tense, like a coil on the verge of snapping.

“He tried to
trick
me,” she said, abruptly wanting to downplay the situation, lest he stalk off and try to kill Abelardus.

Too late, the rage in his eyes said. More than rage. There was
murder
in their hard blue depths.

He released her and spun for the hatch.

“No, Leonidas—”

He didn’t stop. He yanked open the hatch.

Desperate to stop him, Alisa leaped onto his back, wrapping her arms and legs around him. At the least, he would have trouble murdering someone with her attached.

“Stop,” she whispered in his ear, not wanting to wake everyone—or alert Abelardus. “Please, just listen.”

Her weight on his back did not affect him whatsoever, but he paused, one hand gripping the jamb. “I’m listening.”

“He’s the only lead I have for finding Jelena. If you kill him, that’ll make things harder, if not impossible for me. Not to mention that you’ll end up incurring the wrath of all the Starseers if they find out that you killed him.”

She hung from his shoulders, neither of them moving as she waited for his response. Maybe she had been wrong, and he’d only intended to beat up Abelardus, not kill him. Maybe she was being overly dramatic.

“I don’t care about the Starseers,” Leonidas said, not denying that he’d had murder in his thoughts.

“What about me? Don’t you think you all have delayed me enough on my hunt to find my daughter?” She winced, wishing she could retract the question as soon as she asked it. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel guilty, especially when he wanted to charge out to her defense.

Leonidas lowered his head, his chin to his chest, and she felt even worse.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and pressed her face to the side of his neck.

He was still tense, his corded muscles rock hard against her cheek, but some of the blind fury seemed to have faded.

“Can I at least beat him senseless?” he asked.

“I already punched him,” she said.

A feeble effort compared to what Leonidas could do, but she flexed her hand without letting go of him, wondering if she would have bruised knuckles in the morning. They already ached. She distinctly remembered her unarmed-combat instructor telling her to use palm strikes instead of punches, but that punch had felt good. It had been worth it.

“Did you?” he murmured, sounding pleased. “I suppose you can handle your own battles.” His fingers tightened on the jamb, and she imagined he was still thinking of pummeling Abelardus.

Maybe she should let him. But she would much rather keep hugging him, however odd the hug, than let him run off to get into a fight that could end up in serious injuries, for Abelardus
and
him.

“When I’ve imagined riding you before, this wasn’t quite how I pictured it,” she said, making the joke in the hope of further lightening his mood. They could both use some humor right now, whether he would find it appropriate or not.

“What?” He sounded more puzzled than amused as he turned his head, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Leonidas, you’re oddly oblivious for a handsome man who’s old enough to have had many women fling themselves at him during the course of his life.”

“I—oh.”

She kissed him on the neck and released him, sliding down to the deck. Her knuckles brushed against his clothes, and she winced, shaking her hand. Yes, that definitely smarted. Punches should be avoided in the future.

Leonidas faced her and caught her wrist, his grip gentle as he turned her hand to look at her knuckles. “Wait here,” he said, gesturing to his bunk. “I’ll find you something in sickbay.”

“Just not one of the doctor’s potions, please. They all make me have to use the head.”

“I was thinking of an ice pack.”

“Ah, that sounds good.”

He left, closing the hatch behind him. Alisa hoped he did not cross paths with Abelardus. Even though he had calmed down, she could envision his rage returning at a glimpse of that smug face.

She wiped away the remnants of her tears and sat on the edge of Leonidas’s bunk. She ran her hand over the rumpled sheets, wondering if he had been resting well or having nightmares. Something must have woken him—she and Abelardus hadn’t been talking that loudly, not until
after
Leonidas had come in. She now wished she had knocked on his hatch and joined him instead of going to NavCom. Even if Abelardus hadn’t gotten far with his advances, she felt dirty and disgusted with herself for letting him even touch her. A squeeze bottle of water rested in a wall nook next to the head of the bed, and she pulled it out, dribbling a few drops into her hand. She rubbed the water on her lips, then scrubbed them off with her sleeve, wanting all trace of the bastard off her.

The hatch opened. Fresh relief came over her when Leonidas walked in. She wondered what he would say if she asked to sleep here, on the floor if need be. Abelardus would not bother her in here, not with Leonidas nearby. But he might pester her if she went back to her cabin and he could get her alone again. She hoped that pestering would only take the form of an apology, but she did not want to deal with even that.

Leonidas handed her a squishy cold pack, then poked into his duffel bag. It leaned against his crimson armor case in the corner of the room. He pulled something out and came over to sit beside her.

“Is that chocolate?” Alisa asked, catching a glimpse of a cherry and what might have been a cacao bean on a wrapper.

“Yes.” He unwrapped the end of the bar, handed it to her, then took her wrist again. He rested it on his thigh and positioned the cold pack across her knuckles. “I got it on Arkadius Gamma,” he said, “while Dominguez was talking with a contact.”

“For me?” Alisa smiled and leaned against his shoulder. Even if he had purchased it for himself, she would be inordinately pleased at his ability to produce it to share at this stressful moment.

“For you,” he agreed, meeting her eyes.

“Thank you.”

Alisa melted a little inside, the gentleness in his gaze making her want to kiss him. Or to cry. Or maybe both. She could feel the warmth of his thigh under her palm, contrasting with the chill of the cold pack. She could also feel the musculature beneath the soft togs he wore to sleep in. It would be easy to run her hand along his leg, to inch closer. But his obliviousness, as she had called it, made her hesitate. He hadn’t corrected her or offered an explanation. More than once, it had crossed her mind that he might be gay. But he didn’t drool over Beck either. Of course, Beck called him
mech
and daydreamed of collecting his bounty.

Maybe he was just shy. It seemed almost ludicrous from someone who had no shortage of self-confidence and no reason to feel uncertain about himself, unless one counted his discomfort about being labeled anything less—or more—than human.

Hells, maybe she should just kiss him and find out if he would allow it, or if there was even a spark between them. Or if kissing someone—without someone subverting her mind—would bring thoughts of guilt rather than arousal, thoughts that it was too soon and she was betraying Jonah’s memory. She knew he wouldn’t begrudge her going on with her life, but she also didn’t know if she should wait longer, if this was inappropriate. She was good at being inappropriate. She certainly wouldn’t have gone out and sought someone so soon of her own accord, but Leonidas’s appearance in her life had been unexpected.

“Alisa?” he said softly.

“Yes?” She pulled her wandering thoughts in and realized she was leaning her chest against his arm, her chin almost resting on his shoulder. She could feel the hardness of his body beneath the thin material of his shirt and couldn’t help but think of slipping her hand under the hem and stroking his warm skin, of tracing the contours of his stomach.

Leonidas lifted his hand to her face and cupped her cheek. Her heart nearly lurched out of her chest as anticipation ricocheted along her nerves, making her even more aware of his body—and of hers. His thumb brushed her lips, and she shivered, thoughts of crawling into his lap and kissing him rampaging through her mind. Only the expression on his face made her hesitate again. It wasn’t lust or ardor. No, there was the faint crinkle to his brow, as if he was trying to figure her out.

Damn it, what was there to figure out? She wasn’t complex.

“Leonidas,” she said, her voice somewhere between exasperation and passion.

He opened his mouth to respond, but she decided in that instant that she would make her intent utterly clear, make it so even the most oblivious man would understand it. And more than that, she wanted to kiss him, out of pure, selfish hunger and desire.

She lifted her hand, not caring that the cold pack tumbled to the floor. She clasped the side of his head, twining her fingers into his hair, noticing its softness, the only soft thing about the man. His lips remained parted, whatever words he’d had in mind unspoken, and she lifted herself up to meet them, finally pressing her mouth against his.

He did not draw back. For a moment, he did not move at all, but then one of his arms slid around her waist, and triumph rushed through her, mingling with her desire. He wouldn’t push her away. He wanted this. He kissed her back, his mouth gentle, his concern for her coming through in the gesture.

She closed her eyes, sliding her tongue along his lips, enjoying the taste of him, the pleasure of being close to someone she cared about. It had been so long since someone had held her, kissed her, protected her. Cared about her.

It did not take her long to realize she wanted more than a kiss. She shifted her weight, sliding her leg over his lap, smiling as she imagined demonstrating what she’d had in mind with her comment about riding him.

But he drew back, his lips leaving hers. Her fingers tightened in his hair. What was it? She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to push him back onto the bed and bring some pleasure to both of them. There were enemies and betrayal everywhere they turned, but couldn’t they have this? Couldn’t they have each other?

“Alisa,” he said, regret in his voice. “We need to talk.”

“
Talking
isn’t what’s on my mind right now,” Alisa said.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just—” She stopped at the anguished look in his eyes and dropped her face to his shoulder, struggling not to feel disappointed. She wanted to keep kissing him, to do
more
than kiss him, not to talk. Whatever he had to say couldn’t be good. Nobody ever started good news with the words, “We need to talk.”

He did not let go of her, but he shifted her off his lap.

“I can’t be with you,” Leonidas said softly.

Alisa tried not to feel rejected, but it took a Herculean effort. The urge to slink off to her cabin came to her, Abelardus be damned, and she looked toward the hatch.

“I can’t be with
anyone
,” he amended.

She frowned, meeting his eyes. “What?”