Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series) (37 page)

He eased her onto a chair. "Take shallow
breaths."

She gasped and wheezed, her eyes stinging.
The man seemed unaffected by the smoke from the smoldering
generator. He retrieved her cape from where the Jaccian had thrown
it. Prying her gun from her hand, he shoved it through his belt.
Then he tossed the cape around her.

"You need some air. Let's get out of here."
Taking her arm, he pulled her out of the chair and to the exit. All
those who had gathered to watch the action stepped back, giving
them a wide berth. Hoots and lewd suggestions followed behind
them.

Shivering violently, Moriah stumbled after
the man. She didn't know if her physical reaction was shock from
the narrow escape, or from the ugly memories that surfaced every
time a man touched her.

Outside, the humid, stale air offered little
relief to her burning lungs. Twin full moons illuminated the barren
surroundings and the litter scattered on the hard-packed sand.

"Ugh. There's nothing worse than Jaccian
slime." The man helped himself to the edge of Moriah's cape to wipe
his flightsuit.

"Hey! That's mine." She snatched the cape
away, but he immediately retrieved it and raised it to her
face.

Strangely lightheaded, she made no protest
as he wiped the ooze from her cheeks and chin with surprising
gentleness. It felt so good, she closed her eyes, swaying a little,
forgetting for a moment that a man was touching her. Until his
ministrations moved to the front of her flightsuit, jolting her to
full alert.

She smacked his arm away. "Stop that!"

"Just trying to help." He flashed a devilish
grin, and her heart missed a beat.

There was no denying his physical appeal.
The moonlight illuminated a face most women would call devastating:
high cheekbones, deep-set black eyes, an arrogant nose, a sensual
mouth. The shadow of a beard only served to emphasize a stubborn
jaw, to enhance his overwhelming masculinity.

He was just the type of man Moriah found the
most threatening.

Needing to put some space between them, she
stumbled away and headed toward the settlement, ignoring the
shakiness in her legs and the throbbing in her shoulder. The
footfalls behind her told her this man wouldn't be so easily
brushed off.

"Wrong way, lady." He took her arm again and
turned her toward the landing strip. "Where's your ship? You should
get off Calt—now."

She pulled her arm away. "I have business to
take care of first."

"Haven't you learned? There are a lot safer
places than Calt to support a gambling habit. Unless offering that
luscious body of yours to any lusting male is your business. Even
that would be safer elsewhere."

Outrage and disgust shot through her. "You
sleazy scourge of the universe!" She raised her arm to strike him,
only to find her wrist caught in the magnasteel vise of his
hand.

"Temper, temper," he chided. "Is that any
way to thank a man who risked his life saving your honor?"

She wondered if he was ever serious. Jerking
her arm free, she snapped, "All right then, you overgrown desert
krat.
Thank you!
Now, as I said, I have unfinished business.
Then I'll be all too glad to leave."

"Care to share what that business is?
Perhaps I can help."

She wanted to tell him she'd never accept
assistance from him—or any other man—except that she just had. But
that was as far as it went. "Arius could go nova, and I wouldn't
need any more help from you."

All playfulness vanished from his face, and
a glittering determination filled his eyes. "Then forget it. Calt
is far too dangerous for you to hang around, especially since most
of the beings at Giza's just lost a lot of money betting against
you. You're leaving now, if I have to strap you into your ship and
set the pilot for automatic."

Oh! She'd love to shoot that overbearing
expression off his face. One small problem—he had possession of her
weapon. "Give me back my gun."

"You really don't believe in saying
please,
do you? Someone needs to teach you some
manners."

"I don't need you or anyone else to tell me
what to do. Go burn in the Abyss."

Moving like a striking serpent, he grabbed
her and pulled her against him, so close, she felt every millimeter
of his unyielding body, felt the heat emanating from him. He was
fast—she'd give him that. Furious, she squirmed against him, and he
inhaled sharply. She stilled immediately, alarmed by the physical
evidence of his reaction to her.

"I
will
see you off this planet," he
insisted, clamping her legs inside his own.

"I'll see you in hell first!"

"Sweetheart, we're already there." He framed
her face with his hands, his thumb wiping away another patch of
slime. "You know, you clean up pretty good. You need to work on the
attitude, though."

"Men like you don't bring out my best side."
A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she clutched the front of
his flightsuit for support.

Desire flared in his dark eyes, sparking an
odd rush through her veins. He must have sensed her reaction,
because his expression turned predatory. "I wonder if you taste as
good as you look," he murmured.

Before she could react, he lowered his mouth
to hers. Her body felt sluggish, like she'd been drugged, but her
senses went into overdrive, making her acutely aware of the rock
hard pressure of his legs hemming her in. Of the searing solidity
of his body pressed against her; the startling feel of his lips
molding to hers, taking confident possession. Of the heady taste of
liquor as his tongue invaded her mouth.

Her thoughts scattered like marbles in a
vortex, leaving her oddly disoriented. For one mad moment, she
almost savored the unique experience; the comfort and security of
this man's embrace…the absurd feeling of finding a haven.

Then the black talons of horror and
revulsion descended. Panic surged, and adrenaline pounded through
her body. Another wave of dizziness sent her reeling. She tried to
push away, but her legs collapsed.

Darkness engulfed her…

* * * *

Catherine Spangler is a bestselling and
award winning author of the Sentinel series (urban fantasy romance)
and the Shielder series (science fiction romance). She is a
two-time Golden Heart finalist and a RITA finalist and has received
numerous other awards and honorable mentions.

She is an active member of Romance Writers
of America and her local chapter, Dallas Area Romance Authors. A
frequent speaker at writers’ groups and conferences, she has taught
workshops on the creative process, writing techniques, writing
paranormal romance, and goal setting.

Catherine lives in north Texas with her
husband and a menagerie of critters. She loves reading, taking naps
on the sofa with a good football game for background noise, eating
chocolate, and playing poker.

Her fun fact: I celebrated the sale of my
first book by drinking champagne from a plastic cowboy boot mug. My
critique partners brought four of them to my house, along with the
champagne. Drinking champagne from those cowboy boot mugs every
time one of us sold a book became a tradition, which we still
honor.