Lords of the Deep (16 page)

She hadn’t screamed
that
loud, damn it!

Damien moved toward her first. Grasping her shoulders, he set her out of the way and opened the refrigeration unit again, pulling out several containers. Satisfied that he was going to feed her, Angie gave him room, finding a stool at one counter to perch on and watch.

Miles glanced from her to Damien and back again and finally moved to take the seat beside her. “What are you cooking?” he asked Damien with interest.

Damien turned and glared at him. “I didn’t sign on to be your damned house servant, Miles. If you want something get off your ass and fix it.”

Miles studied him resentfully. “I don’t see why you can’t fix for three if you’re already fixing for two.”

He pointed at Angie. “She might be breeding—and if she isn’t, she’s still ripe for it and needs to keep up her strength. I don’t particularly give a fuck if you do or not. In fact, it gods damned well isn’t in my best interests to see to it that you do!”

After glaring at his back for several moments, Miles got up again and began searching the cabinets. “I thought you said you picked up food when you went to the city?”

“I did. That was a week ago,” Damien pointed out dryly.

“Well hell!” Grumbling under his breath, he took out a packet of swordfish and wavers, set them on the counter and searched the refrigeration unit for a beverage, then returned to his seat.

Angie was studying the package of wavers when he settled. Opening the package, he offered them, watching her as she took one and bit into it. “Like?”

Angie wrinkled her nose, chewed up what she’d bitten off and swallowed a little convulsively.

Miles sighed. “Me either, but they’re not too stale, I don’t guess. It only expired last month.”

Damien took the package and looked at it. “You trying to give her food poisoning?” he growled. “That was last year.”

Miles looked it over. “Oh.”

Getting up again, he took the package and dropped it in the garbage and went back to looking for something to go with his fish. Angie was glaring at him when he returned to his seat. He looked at her blankly, trying to figure out why, but then shrugged philosophically.

Short of translating her language he didn’t suppose he would ever completely understand what went on in her head—and probably not then, he realized. He’d never really understood the female of the species—his own. He doubted he was going to be able to figure out Angie.

“How’s the translation going?” Damien asked as he set two plates on the counter for himself and Angie and settled across from Miles.

“It was about seventy five percent complete the last time I checked. I don’t how useful it’s going to be.”

“It’s bound to make things easier,” Damien said dryly, “than trying to communicate with one or two words and hand signs. I can communicate easier with the dolphins, gods damn it, than I can with her!”

Miles shrugged. “Well, the chances are there’ll be some substantial gaps. I got a lot on the recorder, but it isn’t very likely that it’s more than a small percentage of their vocabulary.”

Damien frowned in disgust. “I don’t suppose we have to worry about lying to her about any of this mess when we can’t even talk to her. What we need is a translator.”

Miles stopped with a piece of fish halfway to his mouth and set it down again. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“What?”

“The translators we use when we deal with other kingdoms!”

Damien considered that thoughtfully. “You mean reprogram one?”

“Why not? They’re compact. Once the computer has finished translating what it can, I can input the data … program one for me and one for her and then get her to fill in the gaps!”

Damien’s eyes narrowed. “One for each of us.”

Miles studied him in surprise for a moment before a slight smile curled his lips. “I’ll trade you one if you’ll cook for me, too.”

Damien scowled at him. “Why the hell don’t you know how to cook, Miles?”

“I just never had any interest in it,” Miles retorted, shrugging.

“You have plenty of interest in eating!”

“Which is why I offered a trade.”

“For how long?”

“A month?”

“No deal! Two weeks.”

“Three!”

Damien studied Angie thoughtfully. “Alright, three.”

“Starting tonight?” Miles asked hopefully.

Damien shoved his plate at Miles and got up again. “I’ll pick up translators tomorrow when I go into the city for food.”

Miles studied his back in surprise for a long moment and finally turned to consider Angie thoughtfully. Damien was bound to be gone at least two hours. It was only fifteen minutes to the nearest access station, but it would take a minimum of fifteen more to reach a food supplier, maybe thirty to collect the goods, another ten or fifteen to find an electronics supplier that would have the translators they needed …. Possibly as much as three hours, he decided, that he would have Angie all to himself. Even allowing a generous rest time in between, he figured he would have time for four to six mating sessions.

Damien was glaring at him when he finally dragged his attention to his food.

“She stays in her room while I’m gone and you stay in your fucking lab, or the deal’s off. You can go get your own supplies,” Damien growled.

Anger rose in Miles briefly, but he tamped it with the reflection that he wasn’t actually surprised Damien had immediately realized that he would be, in effect, leaving the field wide open. Ordinarily, leaving the field just was not done unless the okean had engaged in a particularly violent battle and had been too injured to take part in the mating rites any longer, in which case the victors were under no obligation to consider he had further rights.

There was nothing the least bit ‘ordinary’ about the current situation, however.

They not only weren’t at the breeding grounds—which was where most, if not all, Atlanticans gathered for the rites per tradition—but, according to Damien, the timing was also not right. Of course, he had no idea when the Pacificans gathered, or the people from any of the other kingdoms. He had always assumed it was at the same time, or at least close, and he might be right as far as that went. Angie wasn’t
from
one of the seven kingdoms, though. It seemed to go without saying, given their recent activities, that her tribe gathered earlier than theirs.

It made him vaguely uneasy, though, that the scan hadn’t given him that information when it should’ve been able to pinpoint her peak in her cycle accurately. Of course it was calibrated according to
their
physiology and even though Angie was almost the same, or seemed to be, he couldn’t be a hundred percent certain that it would pick up everything since there
were
differences.

Her hormones had certainly seemed to be in flux and he’d thought that was an indication that she was close to peak, just as their catkins were, but then she had allowed them to join with her and close was not
at
peak.

The only explanation he could think of was that she had peaked since the scan.

He was going to have to see if he could convince her to allow him to do another scan, but he supposed it would have to wait until Damien returned from the city. Between the long days he had spent in his lab since her arrival, the battles, and expending himself on her, he was actually pretty exhausted now that he’d had time to allow the adrenaline to settle. From the looks of Damien, he wasn’t in much better shape.

“It’s late,” he said tentatively when he’d finished eating, “and Angie seems tired.”

Damien, who’d been studying her, merely nodded, much to his relief. “I think she isn’t accustomed to such vigorous and strong lovers. We should leave the field for the night and resume tomorrow,” he agreed.

The comment pleased Miles no end. “I hadn’t thought of that! But she’s such a delicate little thing, it only stands to reason that the males she’s accustomed to wouldn’t be assiduous as we are in courting.”

Damien grimaced. “I had,” he admitted uncomfortably. “I thought I was prepared to take that into consideration. It’s not as easy to hold back as I’d thought it would be. It’s just as well she demanded a rest.”

He fixed Miles with a speculative look. “Since she has no elder catkin to guard her rest, and I don’t trust you any more than you trust me, I think we should share her pallet tonight.”

“You think she’ll allow it?” Miles asked in surprise, intrigued at the idea of actually sharing a pallet with a catkin.

Damien shrugged. “We can ask,” he said dryly, then added grimly. “We’ll go with her. If she refuses, we can make pallets on the floor. Either way, I’ve no intention of taking my eyes off of you.”

Miles didn’t bother to dispute the accusation. He didn’t trust Damien if it came to that. The heat was on Damien now—him, too. There wasn’t much that
would
discourage him—either of them. It seemed the best way to ensure her protection while she slept, though he doubted he was going to get much damned sleep between watching Damien and his own rampaging hormones.

Then again, Damien would have the same problem, so that would keep the playing field fairly level!

Angie studied them both with deep suspicion when they escorted her back to her room. When she’d settled on the bed again and saw that they had every intention of joining her, she glared at them. Forming a fist with one hand, she poked the index finger of her other hand into the hole she’d formed. “No—this! Understand!” she informed them belligerently.

Damien and Miles exchanged a look. “That seems pretty clear,” Damien said wryly.

“Hmm,” Miles agreed. “She’s actually pretty good at getting her thoughts across.”

Damien nodded to show her he’d understood and made the hand signal in return.

Her eyes narrowed. She shook her head. “No—this,” she said again.

Damien released an irritated huff. “No—this,” he agreed and climbed across the bed to settle between her and the wall. He managed to get several hours of sleep before he felt a hand clamp down tightly on the head of his cock, which woke him instantly wide awake. Angie, he saw, had a grip on his and one hand fisted around Miles’. As groggy as he was he didn’t have much trouble figuring out what had happened. Asleep or not, his cock had the scent of her now and a mind of its own.

Gritting his teeth, he pried her fingers loose and presented her with his back.

* * * *

Angie felt remarkably good when she woke—for a captive, she mentally amended. Miles and Damien had roused her when they’d gotten up a little earlier and left, but she hadn’t had any trouble snuggling down and drifting to sleep again.

It wasn’t until she was in the shower that it dawned on her why—not just the easy sleep but the fact that she’d woken feeling so well.

Part of it, of course, was the bedroom gymnastics. That had not only exhausted her, but she’d come more times in a single night than she had in her entire adult life.

She hadn’t been surprised by Damien’s fire. She wasn’t a dunce. The smoldering gleam in his gaze every time she looked at him and found him studying her had made it patently clear where his thoughts lay and what he wanted.

Miles had been a surprise, though. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen interest in his eyes, too. She had, and she’d found it as flattering, unnerving, and thrilling as Damien’s heated gaze. He seemed so absolutely focused on his work, though, and off in his own little world most of the time, that she’d finally concluded that he wasn’t nearly as interested in her as he seemed at times.

She was still confused about the fight they’d had, but she thought, in a way, that that was partly the reason she felt more safe than she had at any time since Damien had captured her and brought her here. Despite that, despite the passion they’d both bowled her over with, she’d only had to say no and they’d promptly backed off—neither of them had tried to convince her by groping her. They hadn’t gotten angry with her.

It was almost disconcerting—comforting, but a little unsettling at the same time.

Regardless, she felt trust.

She’d thought she’d just gotten so used to worrying about her situation that she’d just reached a point where she couldn’t sustain it any longer. The truth was, little by little, she’d begun to trust them.

She’d been completely and totally at their mercy and not once since she’d been captured had either one of them threatened her in any way, hurt her, or even been cruel. They’d been patient, kind, courteous, gentle and always careful to see to her needs—discounting Miles’ absentmindedness, of course.

Desire had made her careless when she’d found herself face to face with the need in Miles’ eyes and she’d given in without considering that it could be potentially dangerous to offer herself willingly when she was at their mercy and had no one to protect her from them and no way to stop them herself. True, she’d already trusted them a great deal or she wouldn’t have given in so easily, but when she’d finally been lucid enough to consider it, she’d realized she might well have opened a door that would’ve been safer left closed.

Despite the stunning antagonism between them, though, they hadn’t pushed back when she’d called a halt.