Temporal Shift (Entangled Select Otherworld) (6 page)

“So all those in favor of getting as far away as fast as possible, raise your hands.”

Saffira looked straight at him. He held her gaze as he gave a shrug and raised his hand in the air. As did everyone else.

“Looks like it’s unanimous,” Tannis said. “You’ve got five minutes to make up your minds.” And she strolled away.

Saffira turned to Thorne and spoke, but Devlin couldn’t hear the words. Though he could tell from her expression that she was far from happy.

Thorne put a hand on her arm and Devlin’s muscles tightened at the sign of familiarity. She was all heated up, speaking quickly, passionately. Had he ever been that passionate?

Of course he had, but while she was all about the fires of youth, he’d honed his passion, his need for revenge, to coldness so it was a ball of black ice at his core.

Part of him hoped they would go. She unsettled him. On the other hand, parts of him—mainly his dick—hoped she would stay. He shifted in his seat at the thought and intercepted an amused glance from Rico. The damned vampire always gave the impression he knew exactly what Devlin was thinking. It never failed to piss him off.

No, it was better that she left.

Once he’d believed he could have a life with his brother. That once the whole revenge thing was done with, they could go away, be a family again, build something together. Maybe on one of the outer planets where there would be no petty rules and restrictions. No government interference and no religious assholes to screw up their lives. That was pretty much what Saffira’s colonists had been after—a brave new world. And they’d ended up here. Poor sods.

Now Tris was gone, and he could see nothing in his future, nothing beyond killing Hatcher and destroying the Church of fucking Everlasting Life.

He glanced across at Saffira and found her watching him, her eyes filled with some emotion—sadness, or maybe regret, he wasn’t sure. And he knew what her decision was going to be. Hell, he’d always known. She wouldn’t betray her people for a quick ride out of here. In her own way, she was as committed to her cause as he was to his. And he respected her for that even if he considered her cause misguided.

She headed over to where Tannis and Callum stood together. “We’ll take the shuttle,” she said and her words carried clearly across the space between them.

Something twisted inside him.

But it was for the best.

“Are you sure?” Callum said, but he was speaking to Thorne rather than Saffira. “Come back with us. We need someone who knows what we are, what we are going to become.”

“I can’t leave my people. But you could stay and meet more of us,” Thorne replied.

Callum glanced around, his gaze settling on Tannis. “No. The captain’s right, the risk is too high.”

“Then this shuttle…?”

“Of course, But perhaps while it’s being readied, you’d spend some time talking with me.”

“Why not?”

Tannis joined them and they wandered over to where Devlin still slumped in his chair. Tannis raised an eyebrow. “Cheer up,” she said. “We’ll have you back home, with your little band of rebels, killing Christians in no time. But right now, could you go ready one of the shuttles?”

“Set it to thought control,” Callum said. “We can program it to Thorne’s brainwaves.”

“You can do that?” Thorne asked.

“Yeah, I had the technology developed. The whole ship responds to thought control. It can be programmed to respond to any of the Collective’s minds and presumably yours as well.” Callum sounded so proud, as though he’d developed it and built the whole ship himself, instead of just ordering some minion to do it.

Devlin rolled to his feet and stretched, caught Saffira peeking at him, and stretched again. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Tannis grinned; despite their troubles, she appeared truly happy. But then only hours ago she’d been all but dead—anything was an improvement over that.

“Can I come?” Saffira asked.

He turned to her. Was she going to try to persuade him to seduce her again? He sort of hoped so. “Why not?”

She gave her companion a last long look and stepped toward him. “Let’s go then.”

“Saffira.” Thorne spoke her name and she twisted to look back at him.

“What?”

“Remember what I told you?”

She grinned, suddenly looking younger. “I always remember. Just sometimes I choose to ignore you.”

He shook his head.

“So what did he tell you?” Devlin asked as they entered the transporter bubble. “Docking bay,” he murmured.

“He told me that I should play hard to get. That men get a little scared if a woman comes on to them.”

His lips twitched. “I’m not scared.”

“Maybe you should be,” she muttered.

He looked down at her, a long way down. “Of a little thing like you?”

She cocked her head to one side and studied him. “Do you always judge a person by their size? Is bigger always stronger, better?””

“Not better, no. Stronger, usually.”

The doors opened onto the docking bay, and he headed across to where an impressive array of shuttles stood in neat lines. Shuttles of every size, from one-man capsules to vessels almost as big as the old
Blood Hunter
.

“There are so many,” Saffira murmured from beside him. She was looking in awe.

“This ship was designed by Callum, and you could say no expense was spared.”

“You don’t like him, do you?”

Devlin thought for a second, which brought him up short. A month back, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Did he hate Callum? “I hate what he represents. I hate the Collective and the fact that for political expediency they allowed my family to be slaughtered.”

“They did?”

“Didn’t you learn that in your history lessons? The Collective downgraded all genetically modified organisms to animal status. That allowed the Church to kill us without repercussions.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be—it’s history. But as to Callum Meridian—the man. No, I don’t hate him. He’s made mistakes, but who hasn’t? And he’s a lazy egotistical bastard who thinks just because he’s the Leader of the Goddamn Universe he has the right to tell people what to do.”

She smiled. “Doesn’t he? I suppose someone has to. Is that what you’d like if your rebels win? To rule the universe.”

“Hell, no.”

“So what do you want?”

He shifted, uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation. Rico had once warned him that it was a mistake to make his whole life about revenge. That there were only two possible outcomes. Either he failed and was basically fucked, or he succeeded and was left with no purpose, no life, no nothing—basically fucked. Devlin reckoned it was official—he was fucked. Win or lose, there was no future for him. He was too damaged by hate. And maybe too much of a coward to ever try to get close to anybody again when he’d lost everyone he’d ever loved. He looked up to find her watching him, her brows drawn together in a frown, as though she was trying to work out what made him tick. He could have told her. Hate, rage, the need for revenge. “I want to destroy the Church and kill the man who murdered my brother. After that…” He had no clue. “So what about you—do you plan to rule if your little rebellion wins?”

“No. If we succeed, we will get the planet we always dreamed of. And Thorne will lead us as he should have done all those years ago. And I’ll…” she shrugged. “I don’t know. It depends… But first we have to win.”

She looked so earnest and sure, her eyes glowing with passion. He dropped his gaze, lingering on the swell of her breasts under the horrible jumpsuit. She had beautiful breasts, full and firm and… He shook himself as his dick twitched, reminding him that he was still horny as hell. Maybe they could have a quickie in the shuttle.

He raised his eyes and found her giving him a strange look. Perhaps it was time to change the subject before she got back onto that weird time travel shit again. “Come on, let’s find your transport.” How quick would he need to be? She wanted him. He was sure of that. But time was running out.

He’d decided on a short-range, two-seater shuttle, which would get them down from orbit, but at the last moment, he veered to his right, where a larger model stood. Still a two-person craft but with a slightly greater range. It occurred to him that Saffira might come along as far as the
Trakis One
and maybe they could spend a little quality time together—get his rocks off—before they parted forever.

“Open.”

The door slid open and he climbed the ramp and entered. The shuttle consisted of a single space about ten feet by ten feet, with two seats facing a bank of consoles.

Saffira brushed past him and jumped into one of the seats, bouncing a little. She looked so young, he felt a flicker of guilt for even thinking about seducing her. But who was he to defy fate? And besides, at twenty-one, she was hardly likely to be innocent.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“Just that here we are alone again and if we want to make those visions of yours come true, maybe this is our last chance.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then how does it work, sweetheart?” He stepped in closer, leaned down, and placed his hands on the arms of the chair, caging her in. Her purple eyes were huge, unblinking, and the pulse in her throat was clearly visible beneath her thin skin. He wanted to lick that point. Taste her. His gaze dropped to where her nipples poked at the material. He shifted one hand and laid it over her breast, felt the hammering of her heart.

“You want me, sweetheart?”

She gave a quick nod of her head.

“Well, you can have me. But it’s going to have to be short and sweet.”

Lowering his head, he stroked his tongue across her throat, nipping the skin with his teeth, and she gave a little jump. He tugged the fastener, slowly, not wanting to frighten her. His whole body was tense with need, his dick once again rock hard, his balls aching. But he needed her to enjoy this—maybe the whole dream-lover thing was a challenge.

He parted the material, baring her breasts, the nipples tight and swollen, dark red, and he took one in his mouth and suckled. She was with him all the way, moaning low in her throat as a small hand slipped behind his neck to hold him tight. She was making little pants of excitement now, which made his own breath come faster and the blood throb in his cock. He kissed her other nipple and then licked his way up her throat as his hand slid beneath the jumpsuit and lower, to tangle in the silky curls at the junction of her thighs.

She went still. And he delved a little farther, wanting to make sure she enjoyed herself before he got inside, because he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to last long. Hell, she’d been dreaming about him for years. He didn’t want to come off as a disappointment.

He nudged her legs wider with his knee, bending over her and kissing her gently as he pushed one finger into the slick wet heat between her thighs. It was official—she wanted him. Hot and tight, her muscles clenched around him. A shudder ran through him, settling in his cock, as he imagined sinking himself inside, giving himself up to the need.

He stroked his tongue along her lips but backed away slightly as her mouth remained firmly clamped. Her eyes were closed as well, tightly closed. He withdrew his finger and pushed it in again, watching her response. Her lashes fluttered but otherwise she remained immobile.

“Sweetheart.”

She blinked, her eyes dazed.

“You are allowed to move,” he murmured.

“I was concentrating.”

“And open your mouth. You kiss like you’ve never been kissed before.”

“That’s because I haven’t,” she said, sounding cross. “Well, only in my visions, and this is much different.”

He didn’t want to talk about her visions. Any second now, he expected the captain to comm him and ask if they were ready to go. And he wanted to go. But first… “How different?”

“In my visions you’re sweet and kind.”

He snorted. “I think you have the wrong guy.” Then her words filtered through his sex-addled brain. “What the hell do you mean you’ve never kissed before?” Did she mean not
ever
? And if she’d never kissed, did that mean she’d never done anything else?

She scowled. “I had a sheltered upbringing. And would you have tried to kiss me if you had to get past Thorne first?” His hand was still down her pants, and he made to pull away. She clamped her thighs together, holding him in place. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, right. Because you’ve seen it in a vision? Sweetheart, I don’t do virgins.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re more trouble than they’re worth. Liable to read a whole lot more into it than just two people relieving a little frustration.”

“You are
so
romantic.”

“That’s another thing. They expect nice words and sweet fucking nothings and whatever you think you’ve seen in your goddamn visions—I don’t do sweet.”

“Did you ever?”

“Darling, I lost my virginity in a brothel on Trakis Two when I was fifteen, and sweet did not come into it.”

A stubborn expression settled on her face. “People can change.”

“Not me.” He shook his head. Just his fucking luck. His hand was still trapped between her thighs and his dick was still hard. Traitorous organ. “Come on, open your legs. Let me go.”

She tightened her thighs, and he shook his head. He didn’t want to hurt her.

He wiggled his fingers and her eyes widened. Her sex was drenched and hot as an overheated engine core. And just as dangerous. He rubbed her inner wall, and she bit her lip, her hips pushing off the seat. She was so close.

“You want to come? I’ll make you a deal. I make you come and you let me go and shut the fuck up about this vision crap.” He didn’t wait for an answer, just pushed another finger inside her and almost groaned as the heat enveloped him. He pumped inside her a couple of times, then withdrew, spreading the moist heat over her sex, up to the little bud, swollen with need. He gently circled it and lightly ran his fingers over her, watching her reaction. She was staring at him, her teeth gritted.

“Just relax.”

She glared at him and he grinned, ran his finger over her again—harder this time—and her thighs fell open. He could have pulled away now, but he needed to see her lose control. He massaged her clit, slow lazy circles, feeling her hover so close. Her arousal hung in the air, sweet and musky, and his mouth watered with the need to taste her, to burrow his mouth in her softness. Instead, he took the engorged little bud between his finger and thumb and pinched it gently. Her head fell back, baring the line of her throat and her frantic pulse. He rubbed, pinched again, and she fell over the edge, a small mewling cry escaping her throat. He cupped her sex in his hand, feeling the contractions against his palm.