Shadower Page 8

  She had to seduce Sabin.

  But she would be the one in control of the situation this time. Not the man. And it wouldn't be too hard to entice him. She knew how easily male lust could be incited. Sabin wanted her. The way he looked at her, the way he kissed her, clearly indicated his interest. He would be easily convinced.

  She didn't have much time left, so she'd have to act quickly. She would have to seduce him tonight.

  Chapter Six

  The panel slid open. Sabin stood there, silhouetted in the dim corridor lighting. He had removed his shirt, and his hair was loose. Framed by the narrow entry, he appeared taller, his powerful shoulders broader. "What is it?" he asked, stepping into the cabin. Moriah stared at his bare chest and flat belly, her throat going dry.

  You can do this. She gripped the cover tighter, keeping her right hand out of sight. One of the lethean patches was poised on her right index finger, a special adhesive holding it there. She'd have to peel off the protective plastic layer on top before placing it on Sabin. She didn't dare do that too early, or she'd risk drugging herself.

  "You said on the intercom you were sick." He moved to the bunk. "What's wrong?"

  "I—I have a fever." She tried to pitch her voice to a provocative whisper, but it came out a nervous rasp.

  Concern etched his face. "A fever? I hope it's not a secondary infection from that Jaccian wound. Let me feel your forehead." He reached toward her.

  Tossing back her hair, she took the plunge. "It's not that. Your kiss raised a mating fever inside me. Join with me."

  He tensed, his hand dropping by his side. "What?" He backed away, his distrust obvious.

  She licked her parched lips and dropped the cover, exposing her bare breasts. "Mate with me."

  His gaze flicked downward, his eyes widening, then narrowing. "What in blazing hells are you up to?"

  "I told you. I want to mate with you." She slid from under the cover and stood. "I have no weapons on me. You can search me if you wish. You seemed to enjoy having your hands on me before."

  His scrutiny drifted over her naked body, his dark eyes firing like a nova. But he quickly banked his reaction and took another step back. "You don't even like the way I kiss. You made your feelings about me very clear. This is not a good idea." He held out his hand as if to ward her off. "Get back in your bunk—now."

  Now what? Moriah was woefully ignorant of the tactics of seduction. Her only experience consisted of male domination. Thinking of Pax was enough to make panic rise like a tidal wave. But one thing she did remember—how a simple touch had inflamed her tormentor.

  Stepping around Sabin's outstretched hand, she pressed herself against the length of his hard body. The heat of his flesh seared into her. She heard his heart thundering, felt his sharp intake of breath. She slid her hands around his neck. She only needed to peel the plastic and—

  He grasped both her wrists and tugged them away. "Moriah—"

  Her wrists had to be free. Acting solely on instinct, she lowered her head, kissing one flat nipple. He shuddered, but kept his grip on her arms, lowering them to her sides. "Moriah—" He gasped again, this time less forcefully.

  She pressed closer, pushing her pelvis against his, feeling the proof of his response. "Don't you want me?"

  "Sweet Spirit, I'd be crazy not to," he responded, his voice hoarse. "But—"

  She rubbed against his erection. "Don't talk. Just do it!" she whispered desperately.

  She knew she'd won when he released her wrists with a groan. She'd have to wait for just the right moment to ready the patch; she'd only get one chance. So she steeled herself for what would come next—the lust-driven, painful possession of her body, the violation of her soul. It was a price she had to pay. When Sabin was in the throes of his own greedy desire, oblivious to all else, she'd have her opportunity.

  He grasped her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Do it? Sweetheart, you have no idea of the things I'd like to do with you. Hang on for the ride, lady." He startled her by swinging her into his arms and pivoting toward the bunk.

  Instead of immediately dumping her there to take his pleasure, however, he captured her lips with his. Her gasp of surprise granted his tongue access to her mouth. She started to draw back, but stopped herself, lest she raise his suspicions. Besides…he tasted good and…she was beginning to like the way his tongue stroked inside her mouth.

  For a moment, she allowed herself to savor the experience. Sabin was very good at this kissing business. He employed several techniques, boldly exploring her mouth and dueling with her tongue one moment, then withdrawing to tease her lips with tantalizing nips and just a sweet pressure against them. Then he'd plunder the sensitive inside of her mouth again. He lowered her to the bunk, breaking the contact. She murmured a protest.

  "Just a moment, sweetheart," he promised. "In the meantime, hold that thought."

  He stood back. With his midnight hair flowing around his shoulders, his eyes glowing like black embers, he looked like a cave dweller, primitive and wild. His molten gaze caressing her body, he opened his pants and peeled them down his muscular thighs and off.

  About to thumb the plastic off the patch, Moriah froze at the sight of his nude body, her attention riveted to his erection. He was so big, so throbbing, so threatening.

  Hysteria, spurred by dark remembrance, bubbled up. She tried to bolt, but he was over her, pushing her back onto the bunk. He twined his fingers with hers and pressed them into the mat above her head. She felt suffocated, trapped. Not again! She twisted and writhed beneath him. She couldn't do this.

  "Whoa! Slow down, lady. What's your hurry?" He eased to his side, turning her to face him. "We'll get to it soon enough. I prefer to take my time. To savor the experience."

  With his weight off her, the frenzy receded somewhat. It's all right. This is not Pax, she reminded herself. Think of Celie, of the iridon shipment. You have to do this.

  She willed herself to relax, lulled by Sabin's sweeping caresses over her shoulders and arms. He trailed his fingers back up her arms and beneath the curve of her breasts. Spirit! She had never realized her body could be so sensitive, that a man's touch could be so…potent.

  "Beautiful," he murmured, cupping one breast and rubbing the nipple. His touch was gentle, not the painful plundering she'd expected. Her skin tingled, and she experienced the wild urge to press against his hand. Caught up in her body's response, she was only vaguely aware of him shifting their positions.

  Somehow, she was on her back then, with him leaning over her, both hands inflicting exquisite torture on her breasts. But she no longer felt panic. Instead, an amazing surge of pleasure sizzled through her when he leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth. Coherent thought fled. Pure sensation flooded through her as he sucked her nipple, his fingers teasing the other breast. She could only lay there, her plans momentarily delayed.

  "You taste so good," he murmured, finally lifting his head. "But I want to see the rest of you." Rising up, he slid both hands down her breasts, her abdomen, her thighs. He parted her legs wide, stroking partway up the inside, his intense focus fixed between her thighs. His hand followed his gaze, trailing fire. Surely he wasn't going there— Oh, Spirit! He claimed her most private flesh, caressing with a sure touch. She couldn't help herself—she moaned at the onslaught of pleasure.

  "Hot and ready," he muttered hoarsely, sliding a finger inside her. Desire jolted through her with the force of a blaster. She gasped and arched, opening her legs even wider.

  "Spirit, sweetheart, you're so incredibly responsive." He kissed her abdomen and then pressed kisses upward until he reached her breasts. His mouth again claimed a throbbing nipple.

  Sensations inundated her from two directions now, although they seemed to flow together: from where his mouth teased her breast to where his finger moved inside her, stroking, stroking. The patch, she remembered, trying to focus. She needed to peel the cover off the patch.…

  But…she couldn't…think straight. She h
ad to gain control of this situation. "Sabin, don't," she protested, her voice sounding weak and distant.

  He raised his head from her breast, his glittering eyes capturing hers. "Don't ask me to stop now, sweetheart. There's something I want to see."

  She tossed her head restlessly on the pillow, torn between his darkly seductive voice and the burning need between her legs. "What?"

  He pushed his finger deeper inside her, and she moaned again. "That's it," he whispered huskily. "Come for me."

  She had no idea what he was talking about, or why he watched her so intently. Or how the relentless movement of his hand could render her so helpless, so incapable of anything other than pressing closer. Or give such pleasure. The patch…she needed to place the patch.…

  Then he slid a second finger inside her and stroked deeper, faster. All logical thought disintegrated. She could focus only on the incredible sensations, the intense need to reach some unknown pinnacle. Of its own accord, her body arched upward.

  "That's it," he urged. "Let go, Moriah."

  Something shattered inside her. A wall of restraint that had held her in check crumbled beneath the assault of his sensual words, of his knowing touch. She did let go, pitching into a vortex of light and sensation. Pleasure exploded through her like a nova, and colors sparked behind her clenched eyelids. She was faintly aware of her hips lifting from the mat, of crying out, as wave after wave of shimmering tremors slammed through her body.

  Finally, the swells subsided, and she sagged against the mat, nearly witless. Awareness returned gradually. She heard Sabin's low voice crooning to her as he swung himself above her. Reality lurched back into focus. How could she have let him touch her like that? How could she have enjoyed it?

  The patch! Was it still there? She felt her right index finger. Thank Spirit! It was still on the tip of her finger. Sabin rested over her, obviously ready to take his own pleasure. "Wait!" she cried.

  He drew back. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

  Moriah stared at him, amazed. He was concerned about her? The idea was beyond comprehension. Not that it mattered. She needed his attention diverted, and she had to plant the patch once and for all. "I'm—it's okay," she told him.

  He leaned down and kissed her, sliding a hand up to caress her breast. "You're trembling," he murmured.

  That was just on the outside. Inside, she was smoldering ruins. This man had just hurled her into a maelstrom of such sensual magnitude, there was no telling how long it might take her to recover. And yet, he acted as if what had just happened was the most natural thing in the universe. But she didn't have time to analyze what had occurred.

  She urged him closer. "Please, just kiss me a little longer," she whispered.

  "I think I can handle that." He lowered his mouth to hers. She looped her arms around him and peeled off the patch's cover. With a quick, firm push, and a twist of her finger, she transferred the sedative to his shoulder.

  All that was left to do was wait. She tried to relax, to stay focused, which was difficult. The sensual strokes of Sabin’s tongue against hers were highly distracting. He touched her, too, caressing her hips and thighs, sliding his hands between them. When his fingers again moved between her legs, she gasped and jolted against him.

  He lifted his head and looked down at her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

  Just a few seconds more. "Give me a minute to, um, recover from…you know…"

  He stared at her, his eyes glazing slightly. He shook his head as if to clear it. "That's funny," he said, his voice slurring. "But you look…so…"

  His head fell forward, painfully hitting her chin. At the same time, his body went completely limp, crushing her beneath its dead weight. She could barely breathe. To make matters worse, his erection had not gone limp and was now pressed into her abdomen.

  With great effort, she extricated herself, heaving until he fell to one side. She managed to sit halfway up and roll him the rest of the way off. He slid over the edge of the bunk and landed on the floor with a loud thud. She stared at him lying there, a prime male specimen, even if his mouth was open and his eyelids only partially closed.

  Guilt gnawed at her, feelings of regret that she had to do this. Sabin had treated her decently. He'd bandaged her wounded shoulder, prepared food for her. He had shown leniency when he could have killed her. He’d also shown her a glimpse of her own sensual nature. At least she was beginning to understand why some people actually claimed to enjoy mating.

  But as she remembered how it felt to have him lying on top of her, pinning her down, she shuddered. It reminded her far too closely of her experience with Pax, even though Sabin had not tried to force her. And even though some of it had been…enjoyable. Perhaps one day—no. Mating would never be for her.

  She got off the bunk and dragged him into a more comfortable position, then covered him with a blanket. He would have a terrible headache when he woke up. And he'd no doubt be furious at the loss of his ship.

  Fortunately, after she left him on the next habitable planet, their paths would never cross again.

  * * * *

  A malfunctioning thruster hammered somewhere nearby. Pounding, pounding, pounding…Spirit, but his head hurt! Sabin clapped his hands over his ears, trying to shut out the infernal noise. His movements blasted shards of pain through his head. He groaned, forcing himself to lie still, and the pounding receded—just slightly. His mouth…that taste…like rocket fuel. What the—

  "Oh, Sabin…Sabin, sweetness, are you awake?" a high-pitched, feminine voice trilled. A wisp of sensation brushed across his face. "I have on my feathers!"

  Feathers? Oh, no! Don't sneeze. He'd die if he sneezed. The pain would kill him for sure. Maybe he was dead. Pounding, pounding, pounding…No, he needed to pray to die.

  "Sabin, honey, you're moving. You must be awake."

  He squinted one eye open to a sea of deep blue Saija silk. The glare zapped him like a laser beam, and he quickly closed the eye again. Saija silk? Where the blazing hells was he?

  "Sabin?"

  He heard a rustling noise, and the surface beneath him dipped. Everything careened wildly inside him and pain exploded through his head. He dug his fingers into the silk. "Don't move! Not a single millimeter," he growled.

  "Does your head hurt? Want me to rub it for you?"

  He flinched. That voice, that high, grating voice. Where had he heard it before? A memory nagged at him, and he braved opening an eye. The figure before him blurred, then came into partial focus. Feathers. Lots and lots of blue feathers, covering a small body with big…assets. A feathered headdress rested atop fluffed blue hair that flowed over the woman's shoulders and the aforementioned assets.

  "Lani? Is that you?"

  "It is!" she squealed, shimmying the bed. "Oh, Sabin, you have such a good memory."

  He waited until the room stopped spinning. "Lani, be still and tell me something. Where are we?"

  "We're in the Pleasure Dome. In our usual room. Don't you remember?"

  Pleasure Dome? He struggled to focus his thoughts. Lani. Where had he last seen her? As the answer came to him, he started to bolt up, but then thought better of it. Sinking back with a groan, he rubbed his face. He ached all over. "What planet are we on?"

  "Oh, Sabin, you are too funny! Saron, of course."

  Saron? The last thing he remembered, he'd been on his ship…with Moriah…in her cabin. That brought him more alert, as he tried to piece together his last conscious memory. Moriah, warm and incredibly sensuous, spreading shapely thighs for him, responding wantonly to his touch…Was that real? What in the Abyss was going on?

  He forced both eyes open. The room settled after a moment, and he turned his attention to Lani's gamine face. "Lani, I want you to tell me exactly how I got here."

  She giggled. "You should know better than to drink so much, sweetness. Some woman left you here. Came to the Dome and said you'd had a little too much Elysian liquor, but that your last—how did she put it?—oh, yes, your last conscio
us request was to leave you at the Dome. She even gave us your credit disc and said to charge everything to it."

  His credit disc? Before Sabin could assimilate all this information, Lani cooed, "By the moons of Alta, you are the most generous man."

  He thought he might throw up. Breathing deeply to settle his heaving stomach, he gritted out, "What did this woman look like?"

  Lani's bright blue lips rounded into a pout. "Oh, she was tall, with reddish hair." She arched back, jutting her generous breasts forward. "Not very well endowed."

  That's not exactly how he remembered it, but Moriah's actual measurements weren't important right now. "How did I get here?"

  She tsked and shook her head, feathers swaying. "You don't remember anything, do you? That's not at all like you, sweetness. We had the slaves carry you here."

  He closed his eyes, trying to figure out what had happened. He slid his hands over the Saija sheets, feeling their coolness against his skin. Bare skin. Opening his eyes, he glanced down at his naked chest. Lifting the sheet, he saw he had on…nothing. "Where the hell are my clothes?"

  "I don't know. You didn't have any when the slaves brought you. You were just sprawled out on that blanket, as naked as the day you were born." She sighed, running her fingers along his side. "It was a sight to behold."

  He grabbed her hand to keep it from wandering. There was only one way he could have a major memory lapse and end up on Saron without his knowledge. He had seen enough narcotics used for controlling prisoners to recognize the symptoms. He'd been drugged—and he could guess who was responsible.

  Moriah was going to pay.

  Much later, after he'd revived enough to drink some broth and take a shower, he borrowed clothing and went looking for his ship. Nowhere in sight—and neither was Moriah. He limped back to the Pleasure Dome, his head still throbbing, but refused to let Lani lay a hand on him. He didn't want a female anywhere near him.