Warrior Rogue (The Drift Lords Series) (28 page)

Smells of fish and brine mingled in the air, along with the fuel odor of a cooking fire from a nearby sampan.

As soon as they’d boarded, the ramp retracted. With a vibrating rumble, the ship slowly chugged out to sea.

Chapter Nineteen

As they sailed out of Hong Kong’s harbor, Jen stood on deck watching the towering skyscrapers recede in the distance. Victoria Peak jutted toward the sky while lights twinkled on throughout the city like a theme park electrical parade.

A stiff breeze whipped her hair about her face, sending a shiver down her spine. The fresh sea air reminded her of the underground tunnels beneath Dragon Balm Gardens and how they could have been buried down there forever.

She took a deep breath, admiring the glittering skyline. Too bad they’d lacked the time or leisure to explore more of the city with its narrow alleys, shops, and crowded stalls. Nor had they made it to Kowloon or the outlying territories.

How many of those residents had visited Manga World and been compromised by the Trolleks? Were the invaders truly establishing sleeper agents throughout the world, individuals waiting for their command? That was a truly frightening thought, and one possibly shared by her government—judging from Agent Monroe’s presence.

A green and white Star Ferry crossed the water in front of them. Their junk maintained a steady pace, navigating among the barges, freighters, and other ships clogging the harbor. She wondered about the route they would take and how many days they’d be at sea. Did the magic extend to providing food and water?

She turned toward the deck, scanning for Paz who’d disappeared below to do a quick reconnoiter. He meant to search for weapons in case unexpected visitors arrived. Was their ship visible to others? Or was it like a ghost ship, apparent only to them?

Since they'd be entering pirate territory, she hoped they had defensive capabilities. Not that Paz couldn't fight off any intruders. Her stalwart warrior seemed able to handle anybody, although their last fight had taken its toll. His wound hadn't fully healed, and their ordeal with Fafnir had exhausted him. She'd better see if he was all right.

The vessel dipped and swayed as the swells increased and they ploughed into the open sea. Wind rushed past her ears. Overhead, the three sails billowed like air-filled pockets. She steadied herself on posts and protuberances as she made her way to the hatchway leading below. At least an actual stairway rather than a ladder led down into the depths.

Her mouth dropped open as she hit the bottom landing. Unlike the fishing vessel run by Captain Kolami, this junk had a beautifully appointed interior. She couldn't have chosen more elegant fabrics herself for the upholstery in the main salon.

Peeking inside the spacious area, she took note of the teak cabinets and tables, the sofas with turquoise and gold pillows, and the polished dining room set.

“Nice, huh?” Paz sauntered into the room, hands in his pockets. “There’s a fully loaded larder and a choice of cabins. It’s a lot better than I expected.”

His face creased into weary lines, his features testimony to what he had suffered. Her body stirred. The grubbier he looked, the more he appealed to her. Jen’s parents probably figured they’d meet an American who was down on his luck. Wouldn’t they be surprised when she showed up with a battle-hardened warrior in tow?

How would she introduce him, if she could convince him to meet her family? As a male model she’d hired for her showroom, or as a telecom expert who worked on space relays? Then they’d think he belonged to NASA or some other science agency. That wasn’t such a stretch. Maybe they could come up with a plan together.

In the meantime, why not take advantage of this time alone? They’d hit the ground running in New York. Paz would want to contact his team while she dove into work. At least she’d sent Sandi a quick email from the Internet café. Sandi had everything under control for Fashion Week. Thank God for highly paid assistants who were competent at their jobs.

Jen stumbled as the deck underfoot lifted and fell. Paz rushed forward and grasped her elbow to steady her. Warmth shot up her arm where he touched her.

“Are you okay? You’re not going to be seasick, are you?”

“I hope not.” Jen shrugged him off and gazed at cabinets holding crystal wine glasses and porcelain dinnerware. They must have some sort of glue on the bottom to keep them in place. “Whoever decorated this room had exquisite taste. Look at those drawer handles. They’re shaped like fishermen casting a line.”

“I can think of other details I’d rather study.”

She ignored his husky innuendo and strolled over to examine the label on a statuette. It was the Chinese goddess of mariners, Tien Fei. Well, at least it wasn't a fertility goddess. She didn’t need that complication.

Jen cast a sly glance at Paz. He watched her from under his thick brows, a smirk on his face as though he knew the direction of her thoughts.

She turned away, pretending to admire the decor. What course would he take when they were back on shore? His team still had to destroy the generators keeping the rifts open, but that wouldn’t end their mission. They still had much more to accomplish.

“We should get cleaned up,” she said, convinced he’d be around town for a while. “Then we can grab a snack. I’m hoping we can find a good bottle of wine stashed somewhere.”

His smile broadened. A gleam entered his eyes, one that made her feel special because she only saw it when he looked at her. Her appetite spiked for this man who aroused her like no other. She couldn’t wait to feel his hard planes against her skin and taste his lips on hers.

Proceeding into the hallway, she glanced at a row of closed doors. “These are the cabins, I presume?”

She pushed one open and strode inside, impressed by the teak trim, wide bunk, and writing desk. A quick inspection showed a private bathroom with a shower and a closet holding a selection of clean clothes. What fabulous fabrics. She stroked a silk kimono, admiring the embroidered dragon on its back.

“Should I be jealous of the clothing?” Paz’s teasing tone induced her to turn toward him. He leaned against the doorframe, studying her with an intent expression she recognized.

“That would imply you cared where my affections lie. Do you?” She sashayed toward him, her body craving his touch.

His gaze darkened to indigo. “I care enough that I want nothing or no one else touching you except me. I want to see your flesh bared before my eyes so I can feast on your beauty.”

A lump clogged her throat. “You’re just saying that to seduce me.”

His eyes became liquid pools as he regarded her. “You surpass any of the stars in the universe,
leera
. I’m surprised you don’t have suitors falling at your feet.”

She laughed. “My feet stink. They’d chase away just about anyone right now. I need a shower.”

“Me, too. Maybe we should share.”

A glimpse at the facility discouraged that idea. It was adequate but tiny. She’d barely fit inside, let alone be able to wash her hair. She would have to shave her legs at the sink.

“I think not.” She pressed her lips together. “Besides, I’m hungry. Those burgers weren’t much of a meal. I need energy if we’re going to, uh, you know.”

A slow smile curved his mouth. “All right, I'll meet you in the galley. But afterwards—”

She cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Yes. Afterwards.”

****

The sea must have calmed because during dinner, Paz barely felt the ship’s motion. They’d put together a meal from the ship’s stores and found a bottle of wine to accompany it. A leisurely dinner put him in a languid mood.

Too well-trained to let his guard down, he patrolled the deck while Jen washed dishes. A cooler wind prevailed, blasting his face and lashing his hair into his eyes. It was growing long but women liked it that way.

Sometimes when he worked in deep space on the relays, he didn’t see a groomer for months. That only attracted women more when he made port. They liked his rugged image, and he was happy to oblige them with a rough and ready tumble.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared out to sea, a black void as dark as interstellar space. He’d meant what he said to Jen about her being a shining star in his universe. Around her, he felt like a moth to a butterfly. She was the exact opposite of the type he usually sought when planet-side, but he’d come to realize she projected an image, too. Inside the sleek, sophisticated businesswoman was a girl who doubted her own worth.

Paz understood those doubts, harboring the same ones about himself. And that’s what scared him. Jen resonated with him on a deeper level than any other woman. They had more in common than either of them could admit aloud. Yet they still differed enough that she’d turn away from him someday.

Jen was goal directed and expected the same ambition from others. His warrior role earned her respect but not his everyday life. Once the danger subsided and the glamour wore off, she’d look for someone else more in line with her social status.

For now, though, he had her all to himself. If she cared to amuse herself with him, he wasn’t about to deny them both the pleasure. He would fulfill her fantasy of bedding a Drift Lord and warrior of the Star Empire.

He’d walked away from relationships before. He could do it again. They merely had to fulfill the prophecy and vanquish the Trolleks. Then he could leave when Jen had no further use for him.

He didn’t put credence in the part where he and Jen were meant to be together. It seemed unlikely that things would work out that way. And yet why then did the prospect of living without her fill him with such regret?

****

Jen cleared the dishes while Paz patrolled the deck and made sure no one approached their vessel. They had no defense against Trolleks vectoring in, but perhaps the Gatekeeper had enhanced the magic to repel them. She didn't want to worry about that now.

In the small but adequate galley, she washed the dishes, dried them, and put them away. She’d made a casserole with canned chicken, peas, mushroom soup, and Parmesan cheese. Their stores had labels in English, which didn’t surprise her, considering how the ship probably catered to its occupants. Too bad its special properties didn’t extend to having fresh food onboard along with a chef and a steward.

She sensed Paz before she felt his hands on her hips from behind. He smelled like sea salt and fresh air.

“What’s for dessert?” He nuzzled her hair, his hot breath wafting by her ear.

Jen’s nerves surged into overdrive. “That depends. Do you think we are, um, free of any distractions for a few hours?”

“I didn’t see any other vessels in the vicinity, if that's what you mean. And I don’t think the Trolleks will be a threat while we’re on this junk.” He ran his fingers along her arms, tickling her skin. “Did I tell you how great you look in that sarong?”

No, he hadn’t, but she’d seen it in his eyes when they met in the galley after she’d showered and changed. He wore jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. He had shaved but left a hint of a mustache and beard, just enough to give him a rakish look.

Jen turned around to face him directly. Their bodies nearly touched. Her breath hitched at his proximity and at the way his heated gaze probed hers.

“Why don’t you show me what you had in mind for dessert?”

His mouth curved up in a disarming grin. “Your cabin or mine?”

“We’ll use your digs, Drift Lord.”

“Digs?” He squared his shoulders, straight and broad.

She couldn’t wait to trace their wide breadth. Jen met his smoldering gaze. “Your place. We’d better save the talking for later. Things are getting lost in translation.”

Inside his cabin, she kicked off her sandals. He locked the door as a precaution before turning toward her with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“Lie down,” he ordered. “I’ll inspect your feet. Didn’t you get blisters on our trek across Togura island?”

“They’re better now. I put some of that Dragon Balm on my toes back in the hotel room.” Her eyes widened. “What about your leg wound? I’m sorry, I should have—”

“I’m fine.” He propelled her toward the bunk, yanked the coverlet down, and indicated that she should stretch out.

Jen lay on her back, feeling awkward. Her dress had hiked up and she yanked it down, settling onto the mattress.

She should be tending to him. He’d been injured. But obeying his commands gave her an erotic thrill. She waited for what he would do next while her body tingled in anticipation.

He sat at the edge of the bed looking like a cat about to drink its fill of milk. That made her think of a lapping motion and what he could do with his tongue. She squirmed, her skin so sensitized that when he took her foot in his hands, she jumped.

“Easy, I'm just going to massage your foot. Try to relax. You’re too tense.”

No kidding.
Good God, what man had rubbed her feet before? None in her lifetime. Who would have guessed her brave warrior had such tender skills?

She moaned in pleasure as Paz rolled his thumbs up and down her sole, kneaded the ball of her foot, and squeezed each toe in turn. He rubbed her heel, stimulating her circulation, and applied pressure up the side of one foot and down the other.

“Aaahh.” She closed her eyes.

The man might be a superb lover but she reminded herself that he’d probably practiced his skills in every port he visited. Nonetheless, he made her feel like she was the only woman he wanted. However long it lasted, she wanted to savor that feeling of being special.

There seemed to be no barriers between them. They’d shed the trappings of society the instant the Trolleks had dropped that EM grenade in the airplane. Fleeing for one's life could do that to you.

Unafraid in his presence, she lay open to his lavish attention. She didn’t let her guard down easily, and Jen hoped she wasn't setting herself up for heartbreak later.

He switched to her other foot while she moaned and wished he would satisfy the ache between her legs. Obviously he intended to take his time, because after finishing with her feet—which felt sublimely warm and tingly—he rotated her ankles one at a time. Then he pushed her dress up to mid-thigh level.