Текст книги "Sleeping With the Enemy"

Автор книги: Kaitlyn O'Connor

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

    The fury he’d thought he’d mastered instantly enveloped him and he completely forgot where he was. “Pardon me,” he said absently, breaking from the dance and striding toward the man with every intention of tearing him limb from limb.

    He was vaguely aware as he plowed through the dancers that he was making a scene, that he’d caught the attention of every soul in the hall, but he was so blinded by his rage that the gaping faces he passed barely penetrated.

    He caught up to the pair just as they reached the door. It flickered through his mind that that would’ve been an impossible feat if he hadn’t run, but he dismissed that along with every other attempt by his mind to reassert reason. Clamping a hand on the man’s shoulder to halt him, he spun him around. It brought Sybil around, as well, since the bastard still had his arm around her.

    “Take your hands off of her,” he growled. “Now.”

    The man released Sybil and shoved Anka’s hand from his shoulder. “Back off.”

    Sybil wedged herself between the two men. “Stop it! For god’s sake! Think what you’re doing, Anka!”

    His gaze flickered to her white face. “Do you choose him?”

    Anger, hurt, and distress chased across her pale features.

    “Hey, you picked your woman! I picked mine. Get the fuck back.”

    “Don’t, Cole!” Sybil said sharply. “I need to talk to him.”

    Anka caught her hand tightly in his and drew her from between the two of them. He balled his other hand into a fist, waiting, hoping the bastard would be stupid enough to challenge him.

    Instead, he glanced at Sybil. “You’re sure you want to go anywhere with him?”

    “I’m sure,” Sybil said jerkily.

    The man glanced from one to the other and finally stepped back.

    Disappointment flickered through Anka, but he turned and dragged Sybil through the doors and into the corridor.

    “What are you do…?” Sybil gasped.

    Anka shoved her roughly against the wall and silenced her with his own mouth, struggling with his rage. He was aware on some level that he was far too rough with her but the battle between rage and desire was too hot to control. He broke from her lips when he realized that, stared down at her for a long moment to be sure he hadn’t hurt her, and then turned and strode toward his quarters, pulling her behind him.

Chapter Fourteen

    Anka hadn’t managed to beat much of his fury into abeyance by the time he reached his quarters, but it was wound up so tightly with his desire that he was completely at its mercy. The moment he entered his quarters, he dragged her against his length and found her mouth again with his own. She made some sound but he was in no condition to decipher whether it was distress or desire.

    His body interpreted it as desire, however, and reacted by further annihilating any possibility of rational thought. He was peripherally aware of struggling with clothing-hers and his own-but had no idea how he managed to remove them. He was just relieved when he managed to get her on the bed and discovered he’d succeeded in removing any obstacle to his possession. He was aware of another rush of relief when he discovered she was wet for him, but a fresh wave of need washed it from his mind as he felt her flesh close around him. His entire focus shifted to burying deeper, to the need to feel her flesh wrapped tightly around his entire length.

    The struggle to achieve his goal almost undid him. He was bathed in sweat and shaking so badly from the struggle to keep from spilling his seed by the time he’d claimed her completely that he began to wonder if he would pass out or come first. The need to satisfy his lover while he was able, before he spilled his seed and lost any ability to give her pleasure, flickered through his mind, but he couldn’t hold on to it as a deterrent. His own need overrode everything else. He’d given it free rein too long to check it.

    Groaning with a mixture of frustration and burgeoning need, he gave up the effort to try to control himself and followed the urges of his body, setting a desperate rhythm. His body seized abruptly, making him stiffen all over. His belly clenched almost painfully and then began to pump his seed, forcing the air from his lungs in choked grunts.

    When it ceased, he felt as if he’d lost all muscle tone. Too weak to support his own weight he sank limply down on top of Sybil. His mind was just so much mush. An awareness of Sybil’s panting breaths finally penetrated enough that he struggled to gather some strength to himself and finally managed to pitch himself off of her and on to the bed. The desire to follow the weariness down the black hole beckoning to him was strong but enough consciousness remained for a flicker of thought here and there, and it occurred to him that he’d expressed his joy of Sybil with a complete lack of consideration for his lover. Struggling on to his side, he dropped an arm across her that felt like it weighed a ton and managed to drag her closer.

    He would’ve been happy to leave it at that, but the moment he dragged her against himself he became aware of discomfort-bindings and lumps that shouldn’t have been there. Lifting his head to figure out what the hell was wrong, he discovered that he was still wearing his fucking boots and was half in and half out of his clothing. The ‘lumps’, he discovered, was the dress Sybil was still wearing, knotted in a hard ball at her waist.

    Dropping his head back to the mattress, he struggled to untangle the recent events in his mind and thereby lost all interest in drifting blissfully to sleep. With nightmarish clarity a progression of events flickered across his inner eye, producing images he would’ve far rather not remembered.

    He had made a public announcement alright! He had all but challenged the fucking bastard… No, he had challenged him. It was only Sybil’s interference that had kept him from making more of a spectacle than he had!

    And then he’d compounded his insanity by dragging Sybil to his quarters as if he was some kind of mindless beast and pouncing on her.

    He turned his head and cast a wary glance at her face. She was studying his chest thoughtfully.

    “I gave you no pleasure,” he said flatly, his voice rough with embarrassment, a fresh bout of anger, and the dregs of his own spent passion.

    She looked up at him and then looked away. “You did.”

    It was a lie and he damned well knew it and it pissed him off more. “Who was that sonof-a-bitch?” he growled.

    She shrugged. “A soldier. He’s stationed at the Embassy.”

    He hooked his hand beneath her chin and made her look up at him. “You were leaving with him. Did you take him as your lover when I left?”

    Shock registered on her face. It was quickly followed by a mixture of hurt and anger. “Exactly what makes you think you have the right to ask?”

    He didn’t have the right. It made him angrier that he didn’t. “Tell me.”

    Her lips tightened. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth!”

    “Sybil,” he growled.

    “No! I didn’t even meet him until tonight!”

    “You have travelled two months with the bastard and you have only met him tonight?”

    Sybil glared at him in tight lipped silence.

    “Powell was your lover!” he said, leaping instantly from his current target to the man he’d seen sniffing around her the night he left.

    Sybil blinked at him. “I don’t understand you. I don’t understand this… interrogation!”

    Because it wasn’t rational, he wondered? He’d taken her as his lover because he’d wanted her, but also because it fit his needs beyond the bedroom, the needs of his people. He’d tried his best to be a thoughtful lover, to be generous with her, but he knew he’d still asked her to take him into her bed because he’d seen a possibility of using her to get what they needed. He had no right to behave, or think, as if his motives had been pure.

    It was his misfortune that he hadn’t been able to also keep a barrier erected between them to protect himself from bonding with her. His weakness toward her that had made him believe that she felt the same bond.

    He dragged in a deep breath to calm himself and released it slowly, tamping the jealousy still churning inside of him.

    He couldn’t have fucked up worse, he realized, if he actually had completely lost his mind! He’d made it abundantly clear to both her people and his own that he was putty in her hands-not that he gave a fuck about their opinion now that he thought on it! To hell with them if they were determined to look upon him as if he was… some sort of fucking machine, without function beyond supplying their needs.

    It was his life, too! He had given freely to his people. He had done all that he could for them. He had a right to take something for himself!

    In any case, his current situation was enough to deal with at the moment. He had behaved like a madman-or a savage!-lost all traces of civilized behavior. If she’d been a Sumpturian woman she would’ve been screaming assault or she would’ve already tossed him out of her room-which was yet another breach! He’d dragged her to his room. There was no excusing that complete disregard for her right to refuse him or her comfort in meeting him on her own ground.

    He swallowed with an effort, trying to think how to mend the mess he’d made. “I beg pardon,” he said stiffly, excruciatingly uncomfortable about having to apologize for his behavior even though he knew he was in the wrong. “Do you want me to leave?”

    She stared at him for a long moment and finally chuckled. “It’s your quarters.”

    He felt his face redden but it eased the tightness in his chest that she’d laughed. “Contrary to what it might seem, given my complete lapse of judgment, I know we’re in my quarters. Since I didn’t give you the option of throwing me out of yours, however, I’m obligated to offer you the option to throw me out of mine.”

    She studied his face. “It would serve you right, you know, if I did and you had to sleep on the floor in the hall.”

    “I know. I think public humiliation is probably the least I deserve.”

    She got up. For a moment his heart sank. Then he saw that she was struggling to remove her dress-which he saw he’d ruined-not permanently, he hoped. “Do you plan to sleep in your boots?” she asked, amusement threading her voice.

    Cringing inwardly, he sat up and removed his boots and the rest of his clothing, then lay back down, still half fearing she would snatch her clothing back on and stalk out. Instead, she smoothed her dress and folded it over the back of his chair and then moved back to the bed and climbed in beside him.

    He caught her arm, pulling her closer and then curled his arms around her. “I’m sorry, nodia,” he murmured against her neck, breathing her scent into his lungs gratefully.

    She touched his hair, smoothed it, cupped the back of his head. “It was actually exciting-a little scary, but thrilling, too.”

    He lifted his head to look at her. “And you think I’m mad? I behaved like a… barbarian!”

    Her lips curled at one corner. “But so passionate!”

    “And so worthless,” he said dryly. “Don’t ever lie to me again about that, nodia! I’m selfish enough. And I was unforgivably selfish in taking my own satisfaction and giving nothing.”

    She blushed. “I wasn’t lying. I enjoyed it.”

    He sent her a look. “I know what you look like when you’re satisfied, nodia.”

    She smiled. “You can make it up to me.”

    He shifted slightly away from her and ran a hand along her side, frowning slightly when he noticed there was barely any indentation at her waistline. Sybil froze, having been so swept away by his feverish need for her that she’d completely forgotten her condition-forgotten everything!

    There was amusement in his eyes when he met her gaze again. “My nodia is getting plump. I like this.”

    Oh he was going to love it when he realized why his nodia was so plump and round! She might have pursued that thought except that his mentioning her roundness brought something into focus that she hadn’t noticed before. He was noticeably thinner than the last time she’d seen him. The realization threw her into disorder. The fear leapt instantly to mind that he’d been ill or hurt and that accounted for it. When she saw no other signs of either illness or injury, though, the flattering thought flickered briefly through her mind that the weight loss might have been because he missed her.

    Fortunately, before her tongue ran away with her, it also flickered through her mind that she’d noticed a lot of the Sumpturians had the same gaunt look about them. Her belly clenched instantly with sympathy. She knew hunger when she saw it. She’d certainly seen it enough over the years to recognize slow starvation!

    The urge to burst into tears assailed her. She touched his face, traced it lightly with her fingers.

    He hadn’t wanted her to know, hadn’t wanted anyone to know. Pride? Or self-preservation? She realized it had been both. They had too much pride to ask for help and were too worried about revealing how vulnerable they were. The pieces that she hadn’t known she had been struggling to put together abruptly fell into place and she knew why they were here. They weren’t conquerors. They weren’t curious. They hadn’t even come willingly to colonize.

    They were refugees!

    She swallowed the clog of emotions in her throat with an effort when she realized that he was studying her face, must have read something of her thoughts because his own expression had closed. “I missed you,” she said finally. “I thought when you left that I wouldn’t see you again.”

    He seemed to relax fractionally. Instead of responding, however, he moved closer and nibbled a trail to her lips. She had to force herself to relax at first, force the churning, unsettling thoughts from her mind, but his kiss carried magic. It always had.

    Closing her mind resolutely to everything but his touch, she gave herself up to feeling every nerve within her body responding to him like a flower to the sun, awakening to sensation as if she’d been asleep and numb to the world without his touch. Dizziness assailed her as he explored her mouth and then moved lower to explore her sensitive breasts.

    She hadn’t realized how tender her nipples had grown with her pregnancy until he closed his mouth around the first to suckle it. Pain warred with pleasure then. She gritted her teeth, forced herself to relax and finally did relax when the pain eased altogether and pleasure took dominance.

    He was clearly determined to make amends. He kissed and stroked her until she was drunk, feverish. Without compunction, she began to beg him to give her what she needed and then to demand it.

    Chuckling huskily, he positioned himself between her thighs and prodded her sex teasingly with the head of his cock. She reached between them and grasped it, trying to thrust it into the mouth of her sex. He let out a hiss of sound, pushed her away and aligned their flesh, allowing her to acclimate to the pressure as he slowly probed deeper and deeper. She dug her nails into his arms, pulling at him.

    “My nodia is impatient?” he murmured teasingly.

    “Damn it, Anka!” she gasped. “I’m going to come!”

    “Not without me,” he countered, driving completely inside of her finally and then withdrawing almost out.

    She gasped, arching her head as she felt a quivering deep inside of her, waiting for the next pass to set her off. He waited until the spasms eased and then slid inside of her again. Once more the tremors shook her and still her climax eluded her. She began to think he was more intent on punishing her than satisfying her, but even as the thought crossed her mind he settled to thrusting rhythmically. Within a few minutes, he took her to the top of the mountain and carried her into heaven.

    She’d forgotten, she thought dreamily as the convulsions ceased to wrack her, just how wonderful it felt.

    He slowed, waited for her to catch her breath and began all over again. Accustomed to it by then, Sybil didn’t struggle against the rise of heat, knowing he could carry her all the way as he had before.

    “Shall I try for three?” he gasped when she drifted down from her second rapturous high.

    “Oh please,” she gasped drunkenly, “let me die in peace!”

    He uttered a choked laugh, but fell to seeking his own release. She was amazed he found it with her lying beneath him like a dead thing, but she discovered an unexpected bonus to her exhaustion. For once she got to feel what it was like when he came without being so absorbed in her own heat that she could barely take it in.

    And she discovered that it was more rewarding in some ways than climaxing herself. She was just regretful that she’d been too focused on reaching climax that first time herself to feel his release with anything but disappointment.

    Closing her mind to the dark thoughts fluttering just beyond her reach, she cuddled against him when he rolled the two of them onto their sides and sought oblivion. * * * *

    Sybil wasn’t sorry she’d spent the entire night with Anka. She did regret the morning return to her quarters, however. As luck would have it, Lt. Brant was on duty. Bracing herself, she entered the foyer, prepared to make an apology to the man after the scene she’d inadvertently embroiled him in the night before.

    “That worked almost too well. I thought for a little bit there that I was going to have to kick his alien ass.”

    Enlighten crashed over Sybil so abruptly at Brant’s comment that she was too stunned to assimilate it all at once. She’d suspected something was up and it still outraged her to realize that the entire cozy flirtation the night before had been a setup job. There was no denying it also stung her ego, but then she didn’t really give a damn about the bastard! “He would’ve broken you in half,” she responded coldly. “Be glad you didn’t get the chance to find out.”

    Anger glittered in his eyes, but he merely shrugged. “All’s well that ends well-mission accomplished. I don’t suppose you got anything?”

    She felt like punching him. “I should’ve smelled the stench of Meachum on you right off. You’ll have to tell your lover I was too busy fucking to chat.”

    Brant caught her arm as she moved to pass him, gripping it tightly enough Sybil had to struggle to keep from flinching. “Oh, I like pussy same as the next man. I just don’t like the idea of taking alien leavings, if you get my drift.”

    “Afraid you couldn’t match up? You should be. You aren’t half the man he is.” Sybil jerked her arm free. “Touch me again and I’ll file charges. I’m still an officer, asshole.”

    “Meachum isn’t going to be happy,” he called after her as she marched past him.

    She barely made it to her private bath before she threw up. She leaned weakly against the wall when her stomach stopped heaving, wondering if it was her pregnancy or just revulsion that had made her puke. She hadn’t been sick before, though. She’d felt twinges of nausea from time to time, but nothing like this.

    Shuddering, she flushed the toilet and moved to the shower to wash the feeling of disgust off. She discovered she couldn’t scour it from herself, though, because it went well beyond skin deep.

    Between throwing up and the hot shower afterward Sybil felt weak almost to the point of fainting. It took all she could do to drag herself to her bunk when she emerged. She sat down, thought about it a moment, and finally just lay back, trying to collect herself.

    She should’ve been better prepared, she told herself angrily. She’d worked for Meachum long enough to know how the man operated. There no was getting around the fact that Brant had taken her almost completely by surprise, though.

    She supposed that was his specialty and the reason he’d been assigned to keep an eye on her.

    She didn’t know what made her angrier-the fact that he’d played her or the fact that he’d used her to play Anka.

    She was angrier on Anka’s behalf, she decided. God only knew what sort of repercussions there might be for him. It made it worse that she was almost certain she finally understood their situation and the motivation behind their willingness to consider a peace treaty.

    A sense of pride flitted through her that Anka had so neatly outwitted them at their game. They’d seriously underestimated him.

    She wanted to keep it that way, but she knew she wasn’t nearly as good at deception or manipulation or even reading people as any of the other players. The only thing that had become clear to her was just how important it was that Meachum never get any clue of the Sumpturians’ situation-not before they had time to grow stronger. Anka had been right not to trust them. One whiff of weakness and the government would’ve been all over them.

    She thought the American people would’ve tried to help if they knew. Despite all of the hardships they’d endured, they still struggled to help their neighbors, anyone in need, and she felt that they would have empathized with the tragedy that had befallen Sumpturians. The government was a whole other breed.

    The problem was, she had no clue of how long it might take and she didn’t have a lot of time that she could devote to trying help them. She still had the baby to consider and she had her doubts that it would be something she could hide many more weeks.

    She shouldn’t have had to concern herself about it. The Embassy was officially American soil now and the Sumpturians had agreed that it was sovereign territory. Unfortunately, she already knew that Anka would do whatever he pleased, regardless of the circumstances or the restrictions. He had to have known even before she’d told him that the base was a restricted area and off limits to the Sumpturians and he’d come to her quarters anyway. He would come to the Embassy if he felt like it. She knew it and, unfortunately, Meachum knew it.

    There probably wasn’t a square inch of her quarters that wasn’t covered by vid and sound devices.

    Lifting an arm, she draped it across her eyes. She’d thought she might be able to escape once she reached Venus. Right up until she’d realized what their situation was, she’d thought she could appeal to Anka for asylum. Now she realized that he couldn’t afford to offer it even if he wanted to.

    And she couldn’t ask it of him.

    She was just going to have to try to beat Meachum at his game if Anka came to her, she realized. She couldn’t even send him away without creating problems. If she refused to cooperate, Meachum would just have her shipped back home for trial and there was no telling what would happen to the baby.

* * * *

    Stripped to the waist to catch whatever cooling breezes happened along, Anka paused to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his face with the dangling sleeve of the top of his uniform, staring at the great machines the Earth people had unloaded that were crawling back and forth across the plain where their base would soon sit. The machines were antiquated to his eyes and they belched stinking fumes into the atmosphere that was still too thick for comfort, but he felt a flicker of envy that they had nothing to compare to them. They could’ve used something like that-something to cut the amount of physical labor necessary and the building time.

    Expelling a heavy breath, he scanned the distant horizon a little further until he spied the tiny habitat that temporarily housed the Embassy-where Sybil’s quarters lay. There was activity there, as well. No doubt they had something grand in mind, he thought wryly. The Earth people did love ostentation.

    For all the faults he knew they had, however, a lack of industry didn’t seem to be one of them. They’d set to work with a will from the time they’d landed. Already there were signs of progress well beyond the leveling efforts.

    His thoughts leapt from the construction to Sybil after a moment. He decided he was too tired at the moment, however, to struggle with the tangle. He had to make a decision about her, and soon, but he’d discovered it was easier said than done, especially since it wasn’t merely a personal decision but one that appeared to be everyone’s business.

    He uttered a humorless snort. He’d been too preoccupied most of the day after the festival to pay much attention to what was going on around him. Myune had jolted him out of it when she’d finally managed to waylay him on his way back to his quarters that evening.

    Anger flickered through him at the memory. The only reason her ass wasn’t sitting in the brig even now was due entirely to his realization that his own behavior had left a lot to be desired. He was well aware that he’d snubbed her publicly, but it certainly hadn’t been his intention, and it was only the fact that more people were interested in his personal life than their own that it had been so widely witnessed.

    It if had been anyone else, very likely no one at all would have noticed that he’d already signaled his interest before he abruptly dismissed her to chase Sybil down.

    Regardless, a flirtation during the dance wasn’t a gods damned commitment-not of any kind!-and he was still her commanding officer. He was willing to allow her to express her anger and her disappointment, but striking him was out of bounds, particularly for what amounted to no more than poor judgment and poor manners.

    It was a sign of the times, he feared. Their culture, what was left of it, was crumbling under the stress. It wasn’t that jealousy and fights didn’t occasionally break out between disappointed suitors or slighted females and the object of their interest, but in the times before that was rare. Mating was the joy of life and everyone worked hard to keep it that way. It was one of the main reasons they didn’t live with their lovers but rather their own blood. They toiled beside their blood kin in the day to day stress and boredom of survival. Familiarity and routine had its place there, where they had no one to impress. They preserved a little mystery and a lot of the excitement of their liaisons by endless courtship.

    The disaster on their home world had severely upset the foundations of their culture along with everything else, wiping out most of the family units and making orphans of most of them with no harbor to anchor in. And, just as they’d been left with great gaps in skills, they’d also found a serious imbalance in mating partners. There was no stigmata attached to women in the military. The custom was that the eldest in every family served and quite often the eldest was a daughter. Regardless, only about a quarter of their entire forces had been female and when they’d lost ninety percent of their forces that imbalance had increased not decreased. It was the same with the scientific community, the second largest segment of survivors and the end result was that one of the most important resources they were deficient in was women.

    That being the case, it made Myune’s behavior all the more incomprehensible to him. She was young and beautiful and had endless choices among the men. Why she’d singled him out when he wasn’t even young anymore was beyond him!

    Not that he considered himself old-although he was beginning to feel far older than his solars-but he was five and thirty solars!-nigh old enough to have fathered the spoiled, evil tempered bitch! He’d had a daughter barely five solars younger

    Pain pierced his irritation at the wayward thought but, to his relief, it was a milder pain than he usually felt whenever he inadvertently allowed the past to slip the frantic rein he held on it. The sense of loss followed as it always had but that, too, was more bearable.

    Sucking in a deep breath past the constriction of his chest he turned away from his memories both figuratively and literally to stare at the progress of their current project. The engineers, he saw, were still scratching their heads over the force field. It had been the first order of business when they’d returned from the peace talks-erecting a protective shield. In part it was to protect their future colony from the forces of nature. Mostly, it was to protect their people from the Earth people building a military base within sight of their colony.

    It still wasn’t fucking working properly and he’d begun to wonder if it ever would!

    The soil and water purification units, fortunately, were doing their job, but they were going to have to scale up production by a hundred percent if they were ever going to reach a point of not living on the verge of disaster. In time, nature would take care of purification. Already they’d discovered signs of indigenous plant life. Water had begun to collect on the ground and stay and brought dormant life out to feed, and those simple, primitive organisms were cleansing Venus to make way for more complex life, but they didn’t have the time to spare to wait.

    Processed soil already filled the containers inside the greenhouses they’d built and purified water snaked along the planting beds to nurture the seeds they hoped would flourish-if they’d balanced everything as carefully as they thought they had.

    On that thought, he left the men he’d been working with abruptly and strode to the nearest of the growing houses, moving slowly along the walk between the beds and bending to peer at the dirt for any sign of fresh sprouts. He’d more than half expected to discover that the seeds the Americans had brought with them would either be no good or simply couldn’t be cultivated on Venus. To his relief, he’d discovered he was wrong on both counts. Many of the seeds began to sprout within a couple of days and he discovered as he walked along examining the troughs of dirt that there were new ones today, tiny sprouts with nearly microscopic leaves, but life. Hope and pleasure filled him.

    He tried to subdue the first. It was early days. They had yet to see if any of it would flourish and bear fruit but, like everyone else, the budding life gave him badly needed hope for a future. It worried him that everyone who could find an excuse to be there spent much of their free time hovering anxiously over the plants. In the first place, he was worried they might inadvertently sabotage their efforts by over-attentiveness. In the second, just as the plants boosted morale because of the future they represented, they could wither and die and take morale and hopefulness with them.