Moonstruck (23 page)

She murmured, “When you look at me that way, Finnar, it reminds me of all the reasons I fell in love with you.”

He found the nearest chair and sat down, hard. For once the smart chair obeyed him but he didn’t stop to notice. “When we first met in Zaafran’s office, I thought you recognized me.” His voice sounded flat. He spoke to the wall, not her. “I saw your shock. Now it makes sense. I resemble one of the Drakken who attacked your village.”

“No. At first sight you resembled my dead husband.”

He jerked around in surprise.

“It was your eyes. One look and you ripped me wide-open. All of a sudden, I could feel again. It was horrible, and wonderful, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I didn’t know what to do about you. No one’s ever fought so hard to reach my heart, a heart I thought was dead. I didn’t know I could ever feel this way again. I hated you for it.” She swallowed, whispering, “I love you for it.”

He groaned and strode back to her, taking her upturned face in his hands. His love for her was as clear as an Arrayan sunrise. “Finn, what are we going to do? I don’t know how this can work.”

“You’ve got the same damn problem I do, sweetheart. Our hearts and our heads are tellin’ us two different things.” He drew her tight against him. They clung to each other, swaying. “What happened after Arrayar, sweetheart? Where did you go? Who took care of you? Tell me how the girl who thought going to another settlement was an adventure became the greatest admiral the Coalition has ever known. And the most feared, I’ll add. There were more Drakken soldiers than I could count who wanted a piece of you. I’d hear them talking in the bars. I’d hear the comm chatter. All of them wanted to catch ol’ Stone-Heart. They wanted to be the ones to break you. It would not have gone well for you if you were ever captured.”

She knew it, as well. If the disintegration of the Drakken Empire had done anything at all in her favor, it had taken away the threat of being taken prisoner by a vengeance-lusting battle-lord. “I don’t know why I survived Arrayar. I was the only one out of two hundred and seventy-seven people.”

“Your friend?”

Brit shook her head. “I lost a lot of blood. I passed out. Allas must have thought me dead. There was no other reason she’d take her own life. When I next opened my eyes, I was in a hospital. I woke a different person, Finn. A different girl.”

As if he sensed the gravity of what she was about to tell him, he slid his hands to her shoulders, easing her back to search her face as she told him, “I thought, if the gods wouldn’t stop the raids, if they refused to defend the innocent, I would. After that, I hardly shed a tear. I had purpose. When my wounds were healed, I pursued an appointment to the Royal Galactic Military Academy. I never looked back. I never formed any lasting, personal attachments. If I wanted sex, I bought it on shore leave. The love of my life was vengeance, Finn.
Vengeance.
It consumed me. Every Drakken I killed took me one step closer to avenging my family’s deaths. Some have called me a master strategist, a genius tactician. It was never that complicated. I had but one goal—killing the most Drakken that I could. I’ve never told anyone this, not a soul, but I used to feel nothing, nothing at all when they died. You made that damned difficult, Finnar Rorkken. No, you made it impossible. You should hate me for not seeing your people as human, just as I hated your kind for the same crime. Tell me you hate me. Blast it all, tell me and I’ll understand.”

His hand was splayed on the back of her head to hold her close. She drank in his scent, everything about him, as his heart thudded under her ear. “Sorry, sweetheart, no can do. I’ve respected and admired you since our days back in the Borderlands, but never more than now. I know what you’ve struggled with. I’ve seen it in others who’ve suffered terrible personal loss. I’ve seen them seek answers in drink or drugs or sex, sometimes all three. Revenge is just as much of an addiction. You need more and more to reach the same high. The problem is that the satisfaction is fleeting. It’s never enough, and it doesn’t change the past. If you accept that, you’ll break free.”

His words made sense. For the first time, she held out hope that a day might come where she might feel normal again. Human. “It doesn’t mean I’ll let the skullers we’re tracking get away.”

“By the gods, we’ll find them and keep them from doing it again. Aye, by the very gods you so despise who have been shoving us together since the beginning—first to chase each other in space, then on the decks of this ship. One way or the other, they were determined to get us together, and they did.”

She nodded as his thumb wiped away a stray tear. “Yes, they did.”

His brilliant eyes glistened with emotion. “Blast it all, I love you, Brit. Aye, I’ve fallen, hard, and I don’t know what we’re going to do about it.”

That made two of them.

S
HE WAS SO LATE
!
The debriefing had taken forever. Poor Tango. Hadley showered and changed into a simple dress of pale sky-blue. It was one of the only pieces of civilian clothing she had on board. The rest were home, hanging in the closet in her girlhood room.

Leaving her hair brushed loose, she took a small box of sweets she’d saved from her last shore leave and hurried up to Tango’s room. She knocked, waited. No answer. Then she rang. Still no answer. It made her heart twist to think of him disabling the door-bot chime to go to sleep, uninterrupted and all alone. He’d been so upset.

Her position as Admiral Bandar’s executive officer gave her some perks and allowed her some secrets. One of them was the command code for all doors to personal quarters on the ship, a way inside in case she had to reach someone in trouble quickly. Tango fell into that category in her opinion. His best friend was badly hurt, and the girl he liked would have appeared to have stood him up.

She input the master code and pushed the door open. “Tango?” she whispered. It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then she realized it wasn’t quite dark. A single candle burned, illuminating the beanbag chairs and a bare butt…a pumping bare butt gripped by pale, slender legs. The sound of panting and grunts sank in next.

She gasped, realizing what she’d interrupted, and with whom. Rakkelle’s cadet uniform was flung over a chair along with Tango’s socks.

Hadley stumbled backward, hitting a chair. Suddenly, the butt stopped pumping. Tango glanced over his shoulder and swore.

Hadley ran.

F
INN FOUND
Dr. Kell in the infirmary. “How is he doing?”

“Commander Rothberg’s condition remains unchanged, I’m afraid.”

His arms folded over his chest, Finn observed the unconscious officer through the glass separating him from the rest of the med ward. “We’re all pulling for the man. And praying.”

“That will be what gets him through, Warleader, if anything does. That, and his will to live.”

“Aye…” He turned back to the physician. “If you have the time, I would ask a favor. A personal medical favor.”

“What’s that, Warleader?”

“There’s a tattoo…” Finn pulled up his sleeve, exposing his left bicep and the Drakken eagle imprinted on his flesh. “I was wonderin’ if you would take it off.”

A
S WAS HER HABIT
for years, Brit walked the corridors in between shifts. Finn’s words replayed over and over in her mind:
Revenge is an addiction…. You need more and more to reach the same high…. Satisfaction is fleeting.
His hypothesis demanded consideration that she couldn’t afford right now. Hunting the skullers required too much of her focus.

For now, however, she was off duty and could let down her guard and indulge in a bit of silliness, including a daydream or two about her lover. The shuttle docking area of the ship was peaceful now that all the settlers and their cargo were aboard. Finn had organized a practice drill earlier but it, too, was over and the docks and nearby corridors were silent. The hum of a well-run ship soothed her. More than that, a deep contentment had overtaken her, even in the midst of the ongoing hunt for the skullers and the turmoil it had caused in the Triad.

She was in love, and someone loved her back. It had been so long since anyone had loved her that she hadn’t realized what she’d missed. In closing herself off to the possibility of love, of connecting with another human being, she’d suffered more than she’d had to after Arrayar. Was that what dear Seff would have wanted for her? No. He would have wanted her to be with a man like him, one deserving of her love in return.

A man like Finn.

A flush of happiness overtook her. All alone, only her boots echoing in the empty corridor, she smiled.

The back of her neck prickled suddenly. She slowed her pace, taking in her surroundings with all five senses.

Someone else is here.

She was halfway turned around when something
whoomphed
over her head, enclosing her in suffocating darkness. The stinging rush of meds entering her bloodstream dropped her to her knees and then to the floor. She never had the chance to scream.

Y
OU’RE A LIGHTWEIGHT,
Hadley told herself and finished her second cocktail anyway. The bartender had made it for her, special. She wasn’t sure what was in the tall glass this time, but it was such a pretty color. And strong. Yes, strong. She wanted strong.

Dizzy, she took another swallow and searched the bar for likely targets for her night’s plans. She was going to get laid. If Tango could screw without a care then so could she. Yet the image of Tango thrusting between Rakkelle’s thighs made her sick to her stomach.

She gulped down more of the drink.

A tall, lean form slid gracefully into the chair next to her. She squinted at Bolivarr and smiled. “Cloud shadow,” she said.

“You’re drunk.”

“So I am.”

He leaned forward, folding his arms on the table, his voice dropping lower. “I thought you’d be with Tango.”

“He’s an asshole,” she blurted out. “He’s a man-whore.” People nearby stared at her. She turned even redder, if that were possible.

“Rakkelle,” he guessed.

“Slut!”

“The Drakken nonofficer personnel are confined to quarters—Warleader Rorkken’s orders. Rakkelle’s risking her hide by being out of bed.”

“Oh, she was in bed—just not hers.” More accurately, it was the beanbag chair. Probably where Tango planned on doing her, too, and nearly did.

“I went to his quarters and she…And he…” Hadley grabbed for her drink. Bolivarr took it away. “Hey!”

“It means nothing to her,” he said.

“It meant something to me. Didn’t she know I was interested in Tango?”

“You told anyone who asked that you weren’t.” He paused. “Were you?”

“No. Yes.” She pouted at her fisted hands, and the mood ring that had turned from gray to deep purple in the minute since Bolivarr had joined her.

“I named our grandchildren,” she murmured.

“You don’t even have children yet.”

“That’s the thing. I got too far ahead of myself. It’s a Taloan trait. Talo, that’s my homeworld.” She squinted at his bemused expression then at the bartender, snapping her fingers, trying twice before she managed a decent snap. Her fingers didn’t seem to be working right. “Another…whatever it was you mixed last time.”

“Hadley. You don’t need more to drink.”

“Why? Because I’m drunk? I like being drunk.” Her giggle attracted the attention of a few Earthling officers at the next table. Earthlings. She scowled at them and they turned away quickly.

“Yes, because you’re drunk.” He leaned closer. “Very drunk.” He smelled good. Not of cologne but of his own unique scent. She liked his scent. A lot. Why hadn’t she ever noticed how good he smelled? She bent forward and sniffed deeply, sighing, then caught herself before she tipped out of the chair.

Bolivarr sighed, too, but for a different reason, she suspected. “You need to go to bed.”

“Since when do you tell me what to do?”

“Since I have become your friend.”

“Friends with an Imperial Wraith. What would my mother say?”

“She’d say she was glad he thought to get you out of the bar before someone else took you home.” He snatched her hand and pulled her up, despite her protests, hauling her against his hard, lean frame as he led her from the bar.

A few people whistled and clapped. “What are they so happy about?”

“They think I’m getting lucky.”

“Lucky?” He steered her deftly through the corridors, seeming to know exactly where her quarters were. “Oh…you mean
lucky.
” She blushed all over again.

“Trust me, as much as I would like it, I won’t be.” He lifted her hand to her door panel. She fumbled with the security code and let them in.

He took her by the hand and led her to the sink, opening her storage cabinet. “Where do you keep your metabolizers?”

“I don’t have any.” Metabolizers were for people who drank and needed to speed up getting sober, either to avoid a hangover or to not show up at work drunk. “I never drink.”

“Thank the gods,” she heard him mutter. “Water will have to do.” He filled a glass at her sink. “Here, drink it down.”

She wobbled on her feet. Bolivarr caught her. Her arms draped over his shoulders and her face landed on the side of his throat. She inhaled and smiled against his warm skin. “How come you smell so good?”

“Because you’re drunk.” He peeled her off and helped her to her bed, pulling down the quilt before laying her down.

“If it’s because I’m drunk then how do you explain the ring?” She thrust her hand at him. “See? It’s purple. It means romance.
Passion.
”

His mouth seemed to fight a smile as he wedged the tips of his fingers in his pockets. A lock of hair fell over his forehead, softening away the hard lines of his face. “I thought you said it was broken.”

“I lied.” She giggled. “Me and you—that’s too crazy.”

He glanced away. “Here’s your water. Try to drink some.” He loomed over her, helping her to sit up. He held the glass to her lips, insisting she have a few sips before he set the glass by her bedside.

“You have nice hands. Nice hands and a nice smell.” She giggled again. “You’re just really nice.”

She stretched, rolling to her side and bringing her knees higher. It seemed to make him uncomfortable. She remembered she was wearing a dress, giving him a view all the way up her bare thighs. “Oops.” She tugged the skirt lower over her bottom.

His hands were wedged even deeper in his pockets now. “Are you going to be all right if I leave you here alone?”

“You’re leaving?” She pouted.

“I have to, Hadley.”

“Why?”

“It’s not proper for me to be here.”

“Why?”

He exhaled. “Man…woman…
bedroom.
”

“Getting lucky…?”

It wasn’t her imagination; he blushed. “Something like that,” he said. He pulled off her shoes and lifted the quilt over her. Warmth swelled in her chest at his tender gestures. Warmth swelled in other places, too, places that hadn’t reacted at all to Tango’s kisses but should have. All Bolivarr had done was tuck her in bed.

Tango’s flirting had been exciting. It was nothing compared to a guy being nice, making sure she was okay. She realized then she’d almost made a very big mistake. “Had I gotten out of the meeting a couple of hours earlier, it would have been me on my back under Tango on that beanbag chair.”

“Ah.” It was the oddest thing—it was as if her remark disappointed him, and she didn’t want to do that.

“I’ve never done it with him,” she quickly admitted. “I’ve never done it…with anyone.” She clamped her teeth together. It was the liquor talking. She wanted to die of embarrassment.

Bolivarr pondered her with a shy yet masculine smile. “I hoped that was the case.”

“Why?”

“Because a first time should be special. Because I thought—I…” He shrugged. “Not that I ever anticipated having a chance with you, but if I ever did, well, I wouldn’t have wanted to be the only one of us without experience.”

“You’re a
virgin?
”

“Let me put it this way. I don’t remember having sex, or not having it. If I’m not a physical virgin, I’m a mental one.”

“You never slept with anyone on the warleader’s ship?”

He shook his head.

“Not even with Rakkelle?”

He laughed. “No. She never tried, actually. I must not be appealing enough.”

“She’s crazy. Or blind.” Blushing, she bit her lip. It was the liquor talking again.

His reaction made her shiver. “It wouldn’t have made a difference,” he said quietly. “Celibacy is a decision of my own choosing. If I did sleep with someone, I was afraid I’d bond. I don’t want to bond until I know who I am. There is still a big gap in my memories.”

“So, it’s the truth then.”

“Of course it is.”

“Yarew thinks you’re lying to cover up crimes you committed for the warlord.”

Rare anger flashed in his eyes. “Yarew has his own crimes to worry about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Watch him, Hadley. I don’t trust him. That’s all I’ll say for now.”

Awkwardly, they studied each other.

“Thanks for escorting me out of the bar,” she whispered, squinting as the room rotated slowly. “It was very nice of you.”

“It wasn’t all altruism.”

She swallowed. “Really?”

His voice was deeper now, and slightly hoarse. “I thought it might give me the chance to be with you, alone. I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” He let out a surprisingly raw, quick laugh. “I don’t even know if I should be having this conversation. I could be married.”

Her heart was beating faster. With each excited thump, she became more sober. “I hope you’re not.”

“I don’t feel married,” he admitted.

“Who says we have to rush into anything more than friendship?”

“Because other than the children we took aboard today, we’re probably the only virgins on the ship?”

“I am,” she corrected. “You’re undetermined.”

He didn’t laugh exactly but his dark, enigmatic eyes glittered with amusement. Then their smiles faded in sudden awareness that was mutual and unmistakably sexual. He might not remember his sexual history, but he had a hot gaze that she felt to the core. It was the kind of look that made her want to strip off her clothing without second thoughts. She’d wondered how people could get naked and not be overcome by self-consciousness. Now she had a clue.

Bolivarr sat on the edge of the bed. “I need to leave.”

“I know. Not yet.”

He brushed his warm palm over her cheek. “You are beautiful, Hadley Keyren.”

Dizziness swept through her, and not from the drinks. Impulsively, she surged forward, threw her arms over his shoulders. Closing her eyes, she lightly pressed her lips to his. It was the liquor kissing him, not her, she assured herself but suddenly she wasn’t so sure. She expected the tingle of warm, sensitive skin touching warm skin but not the earthquake that went through her.

“Goddess,” she whispered in surprise, tasting him again.

When she moved back, his greedy gaze lifted from her mouth to her wide-open eyes. It looked nothing like Tango’s hunger. That had been predatory. Bolivarr’s was desire mixed with hope and a good deal of doubt and shyness. He probably looked a whole lot like her.

“I might be married,” he warned again, his hand sliding around to her back.

“You don’t feel married.” Their mouths were so close now that their breath mingled. “If you did, you wouldn’t be doing this.”

He kissed her. Fully. Hugging her close. He might claim he didn’t remember being with a woman, but he sure seemed to know what to do. When her mouth opened under his, it was like putting oxygen to fire.

And nothing like kissing Tango. It wasn’t that Bolivarr had more skill; it was her reaction to him that made all the difference, and the absence of fear that he’d try for more than she was comfortable with.

She took his hand and laid it upon her breast. “Touch me,” she invited. “Everywhere.”

“Hadley.” His voice sounded strained. “You’re drunk.”

“Not that drunk.”

“Drunk enough.” He pulled his arm away and took her face in both hands, resting his forehead against hers. “There’s no rush. You said it yourself.”

“Not so drunk that I can’t see my own stupidity. My stubbornness, actually. The mood ring was never broken. It told the truth from the beginning. I just refused to listen. It reflected what my gut was telling me. I kept ignoring my instincts with Tango.”
And with you, Bolivarr.
“I won’t let that happen again. From now on, I will trust my instincts.” She took the liberty of kissing his ear. “You’re beautiful, too, Battle-Lieutenant Bolivarr.”

His breath shuddered out. Then his body went rigid.

He sat up abruptly, his fists clenched. Shock widened his eyes. “N-no…”

“Bolivarr. What’s wrong?”

“No!” He squeezed his eyes shut, his facial muscles constricting. Shaking, he brought his hands up to cover his face. “Stay a-away, Hadley. Don’t touch. P-please.” He tried to stand but fell.

“Bolivarr!” She recognized the signs now. The poison that took down Rothberg must be reacting now inside him, too. Bonding to his cells, multiplying, replicating.
Killing.
“Medical!” she shouted in her PCD. “Emergency—Lieutenant Keyren’s quarters.
Come now.
”

B
RIT WOKE
to the agony of someone backhanding her across the face. She jerked with the shock of the hit, refusing to cry out. Admiral Brit Bandar did not yelp in pain. She tasted blood, felt it running from her nose to her mouth. It sprayed as she sucked breaths in and out. Screaming she could control. Her respiration she could not.

“Careful,” someone cautioned. “We’re not supposed to make her ugly.”

Brit went still. He had an accent, a Hordish accent. A deathly chill spiraled through her. She’d been captured by the Drakken.

But how? How had they gotten her off the
Unity?
She had a vague memory of a bag being thrown over her head and that was all. Was she still on her ship? No…it felt different. She’d spent half her life in space. She knew a vessel by its feel. Less air pressure meant a smaller ship.

Her vision cleared some. She was sitting tied to a chair in what looked to be a prison cell. Several men dressed in Imperial Navy uniforms milled around, a startling, unexpected sight, and one she’d thought she’d never see…like this.

As their captive.

It took a moment to gather her wits and for her attention to swing around to the Hordish officer crouched in front of her.

His eyes were vivid green. His cheek was scarred. It looked like a fresh wound. Few Drakken had access to the healing technology of nanomeds. Yet, this man wore battle-lord rank. A battle-lord would have the wealth and means to smooth away scars. Unless…he got his promotion by default. Hatred choked her. He was a coward
and
a liar.

“Congratulations on your promotion,” she said smoothly. “It’s easy to jump ahead in rank when everyone in front of you dies or is captured.”

He lifted his hand to slap her again. She almost flinched. He noted it and smiled. “You won’t be so hard to break, Stone-Heart.”