Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series) (14 page)

He came down upon her again, kissing her
eyes, her neck, her breasts, finally drawing a nipple into his
mouth. "Chase!" she cried, thrashing beneath his relentless
suckling.

Spirit, but she tasted sweet. He moved to
the other breast, mouthing the nipple and sucking it until she
stilled and clutched his head against her. The blood pounded like a
raging tide through his body.

He moved his hand down her slender thigh.
"Open your legs, sweetheart." Mindlessly, she obeyed, and he
stroked the soft, feminine flesh, reassuring her when she almost
surged off the bunk. "It's okay, Nessa. Touching you everywhere is
part of mating."

Sinking back, she allowed his intimate
touch, moaning softly when he slid a finger inside. He lifted his
head to watch her face as he moved his finger in and out. She was
tight, virginal, as he had known she would be. He needed to slow
this down.

But as he felt her wetness increase around
his finger, heard her panting helplessly while she instinctively
opened her thighs wider and arched into the pleasure of his
strokes, he couldn't wait any longer. He slid in a second finger
and she moaned again. Stars, she was tight, but she was ready for
him.

"Sweetheart, I'm coming inside now," he
whispered, swinging his body over hers. "Relax, and let me in."

She raised her hips as he pressed his
erection against her. As gently as possible, he began the push
inside her, slowly, so slowly, he didn't know if he'd survive. She
cried out, arching in pain now instead of pleasure. He pressed all
the way in and stopped. "Nessa? Are you okay?"

"No," she gasped. "No more." He had lost
her. The pain of penetration overwhelmed the need of passion. She
didn't utter another sound, but her nails digging into his
shoulders and the tenseness of her body indicated her
suffering.

He should withdraw, but all she'd ever known
was pain. If he released her now, with only the memory of the pain
and not the pleasure, she'd never let him near her again. Somehow,
he couldn't bear that happening.

"Relax, Nessa, relax," he urged against her
ear. "The pain will ease, I promise. Then there will be
pleasure."

She shook her head violently, and he held
himself still, straining with the effort. Brushing her hair from
her face, he pulled back enough to kiss her gently, coaxing her
tongue to dance with his. He touched her, caressing her breasts and
stroking the sensitive nub between her legs. He waited, continuing
his sensual assault, until she moaned again, this time with
pleasure.

Then he moved inside her, with painstaking,
torturous slowness at first. He rocked her in the mesmerizing
movements of mating, increasing the tempo, until she responded,
lifting her hips to meet his. His control broke then, and he thrust
hard and fast, urging her to come with him. But as the momentary
oblivion descended at the explosive release of his body, he knew
she hadn't reached the summit.

He held Nessa close while his breathing
returned to normal. She lay passive and silent in his embrace. He
regretted she hadn't shared the euphoria of climax.

Other regrets surged forward, especially
when he lifted his head and looked into her closed face. Guilt
gnawed at him. He had given in to his baser needs, taking advantage
of a grieving, innocent woman.

He'd relinquished control to the odd
attraction that had drawn him to her from their first meeting. Even
worse, he'd hurt her, more than just physically. Lasting
relationships would never exist for him. He couldn't offer her what
she desperately needed: permanence, stability, love. Nessa deserved
to be cherished and loved.

He was no longer capable of love. Only
hatred. And at this moment, he hated himself.

He stroked her hair back from her face. "Are
you okay?"

She nodded, her eyes expressionless. Her
usual response, he thought, shifting his weight off and settling on
his side next to her. He swept his hand along her collarbone, down
across her breast and over her rib cage. He could span her tiny
waist with his hands. He frowned when he saw the scars on her
abdomen. Odd, but he hadn't noticed them before. Leaning forward,
he studied the two scars, tracing his finger along their raised
ridges.

Tensing suddenly, Nessa tried to push his
hand away. Anger rocketed through him. He knew what those scars
were. The result of sterilization—by an incredibly barbaric and
crude method. Livid, he looked up at her. "Who did this to
you?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She shoved
against him and rolled from the bunk.

He swung upright and pulled her back. "Who
did this?"

Her eyes finally came to life, a myriad of
emotions sweeping through them. "Please. I've had enough."

Chase stared at her, feeling the tremors in
her arm. He released her wrist and she fled to the lavatory. She
had retreated from him, mentally as well as physically. Her words
drilled into his conscience.

She'd had enough.

Of pain, of isolation—of him, he was
certain.

He hadn't even displayed enough stamina or
restraint to ensure she enjoyed her first sexual encounter. She'd
suffered the discomfort, but not the enjoyment. If her reaction
provided any indication, she wouldn't be anxious to repeat the
experience.

The image of those scars jumped into his
mind. He was beginning to wonder if Nessa had ever known any
kindness. Her experiences had made her mentally tough, yet despite
the obvious hardships she'd faced, she displayed an innate
gentleness and concern for others. But now…would she ever let
another man touch her?

Probably not, and the blame rested on him.
How many had already suffered needlessly because of his
incompetence? Disgusted with himself, Chase rolled from the bunk.
Seeing the blood on the covering, he wanted to kick himself. He
yanked the blanket off. There was no sense in letting Nessa see
it.

He wouldn't come near her again. She
deserved a real man, a capable man who had something to offer. Not
him. He didn't intend to hurt her any more than he already had.

* * * *

Nessa leaned against the shower wall,
letting the spray wash over her. If only it could cleanse away her
disgrace, her embarrassment…the memory of the shocking things Chase
had done to her. And the astonishing, incredible sensations…and the
way she'd enjoyed it—until he'd hurt her so badly. The information
she'd read on mating had never mentioned the pain.

If it was like that every time, she couldn't
understand why people would mate, except for the necessity of
bearing offspring. Children. One thing she'd never have to worry
about.

A searing ache filled her chest and she
clutched her abdomen. She'd always harbored a fondness for
children, always dreamed of having little ones who would return her
love, even if she was a freak. That choice had been denied her. At
least she couldn't pass on her physical defect to an innocent
child.

But it hurt to be barren. To have nothing to
offer, nothing to give. It amazed her that Chase had even mated
with her. He wouldn't want to again, she felt certain. She thought
of Moriah, with her stunning beauty and perfect body. How she and
Sabin had looked at each other, their lingering touches. Surely
Chase would prefer that, prefer a woman who was beautiful and
whole, one who had something to offer.

Not a deformed female who had been spurned
by her own people. Chase's mating with her had been a mistake. He
was too intelligent to repeat his mistakes. Nessa wouldn't risk
further humiliation or pain.

She would avoid Chase the remainder of the
trip.

Nessa rose early the next cycle, tired from
a restless night. The horrifying mental picture of Turi crashing
against the wall, intermingled with thoughts of Chase and her
traumatic mating with him, had robbed her of sleep. She'd been
relieved to find him gone after her shower, although the emptiness
of Turi's case, along with a sense of profound loneliness, almost
made her long for Chase's comforting presence.

Somehow he knew when she stirred from her
bunk, because he rang her panel tone just minutes after she arose.
Nessa stiffened, not ready to face him just yet. But she knew he'd
enter her cabin with or without her permission.

She braced herself. "Come in."

He did, prompting her to take an involuntary
step back. He always had that effect on her, his size crowding out
everything else in her small cabin.

Dark circles accentuated his eyes, making
him look as tired as she felt. "How are you feeling this
morning?"

His deep voice brought unwelcome images of
the two of them intimately entwined. She forced a breath into her
lungs. "Fine."

He studied her intently. "You'll probably be
sore for a few days. I brought you this salve. It will help ease
any discomfort." He held out a tube.

Without looking directly at him, she took
it. Fervently, she prayed to Spirit he'd leave now.

He didn't. "Nessa…Nessa, I'm sorry about
last night. It should never have happened. I take full
responsibility. It wasn't your fault."

She saw no cause for blame. Chase had
mistakenly mated with her, and now he regretted it. Simple—and
understandable. "It's okay," she whispered through a tightened
throat.

He stepped toward her, halting when she
scooted away. "You don't have to worry about it happening again,"
he said quietly.

She knew it wouldn't. Not with Chase, not
with anyone. She looked at him, with as much composure as she could
muster. "I understand."

There seemed no need for further words, and
with a brief nod, he left.For the next few days, he appeared as
anxious as Nessa to avoid all contact. Their only real discussions
occurred when she didn't want to come to the galley for meals. He
would have none of it. She was going to eat—with him—and that was
final.

Even though Nessa avoided Chase outside of
the stilted meals they shared, the computer drew her like a magnet.
With Turi gone, her cabin seemed even more stark and lonely. Chase
had never removed Turi's case, and it served as a glaring reminder
of her loss. To escape her grief, she fled to the cockpit, seeking
comfort in the wealth of knowledge found in the computer.

Engrossed in the IAR link, she discovered
fabulous other worlds, while Chase stared stonily at the controls.
Even as she tried to ignore him, Nessa found herself drawn to him.
She sneaked furtive glances at his handsome profile, admiring the
breadth and power of his shoulders.

Memories of his touch and the desire their
mating had evoked filled her mind and sent strange sensations
coursing through her body. She tried to push the disturbing
feelings away, but every time she saw Chase, they surfaced.

He seemed unaffected by her presence,
however, remaining aloof and distant. Bitterly, she understood his
coolness all too well. He wanted nothing more to do with her, with
her ugly body and freakish seizures. Although she'd faced this
scenario for ten seasons, had dealt with being spurned and ignored,
somehow Chase's rejection hurt worse than the others.

So she buried herself in the computer,
trying to push aside the ache that arose in her chest every time
she thought about him.

She kept an anxious check on their
destination. Thirteen days had passed since she'd been injected
with Orana, almost half the time she had left. She should have been
in Santerra five days ago. Dark fears of not reaching Santerra, of
failing at her mission and then dying an agonizing death, nagged
her. But she reassured herself with the knowledge that they would
arrive at Star Base Intrepid in three days. She'd still have almost
two weeks to get to Santerra. So far, no signs of the disease had
surfaced.

On the third day out of Calt, she slipped
quietly into the cockpit. Staring at his terminal, Chase ignored
her, as he had the past two days. Sliding into her seat, she
immediately checked the destination screen, which she did every
morning shift.

Shockwaves spiraled through her. Bold,
ominous letters flashed across the screen:
Destination:
Elysia
. Nessa stared at the words, dread settling in the pit of
her stomach. Not only were they headed away from Intrepid, but
Elysia was still another day away.

She gripped the console, trying to calm the
ensuing panic. How could she convince Chase to take her to Intrepid
without revealing the fact she was a Shielder? She stared at his
stiff, unyielding back. No matter that he had treated her injuries,
no matter what had passed between them, including the shared
intimacy of mating, he was a s
hadower
.

Capturing and turning in Shielders comprised
a shadower's financial mainstay. Controllers paid handsomely for
Shielders, who could be identified by a simple blood test. Of
course, shadowers couldn't go around the quadrant giving blood
tests, which was why they frequently hired renegade Shielders.
Traitors, like Sabin, who knew their own kind instantly, and who
were granted immunity by the Controllers. Why Sabin hadn't revealed
Nessa's identity remained a mystery.

Even if Chase cared enough for her to forego
financial gain, he wouldn't be able to override the formidable mind
control implanted during indoctrination. A mental domination so
powerful, it had enabled the Controllers to rule the quadrant for
hundreds of seasons.

No, she couldn't tell Chase the truth, not
even after lying naked in his arms and allowing his invasion of her
body. The insidious shroud of Controller influence infiltrated even
the most private moments. If Chase knew she was a Shielder, he
would surrender to the inexorable compulsion to turn her in.

Gathering her courage, she rose and moved
behind him. "Captain McKnight, I'd like to speak with you." She
managed to keep her voice calm, but her control faltered when he
swiveled around, his expression cold.