Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) (22 page)

"Everything I feel, not everything I think."

Tor leaned in until his mouth was inches from hers. "And what are you thinking now, pretty Wynne."

"I don't know who you are," she whispered, knowing that the words were inadequate.

"Use the head before you use the heart," Nona used to tell her. "The heart has no sense."

Wynne's certainly didn't. The man had only to look at her and she melted under his gaze. She loved him and it happened before her head had a chance to catch up.

Chapter 22

"I thought I'd made that clear. I'm Tor, Captain of the Cargo Vessel, Sky Hawk, first son of Mikelotny of the House of Cliff with no homeworld to claim."

It was the same introduction all Godan used; name, occupation, father's name, House in place of a last name, and homeworld or in Tor's case, a lack of one. Curiosity made Wynne question another difference.

"First son? Roark says he's a free son. Is there a difference?" Wynne didn't mean to sound doubtful, but Tor must have heard it that way.

"Still questioning, Wynne? A first son inherits his father's holdings. For me, that was a four room house, a large poultry pen, and a shed filled with useless trade goods. Not much, but it was home, and it would have been mine someday."

"We didn't have much more, and it was taken from me, too. I wasn't doubting you. I only want to understand." Just as she wanted to understand his animosity toward the Godan. "What happened to Freedom Farm, Tor?"

"Progress. We grew a genetically altered grain that when properly milled could provide the full complement of protein and other nutrients to soldiers in the field." His smile was a sad one. "That's a lesson we heard so often I could repeat it in my sleep. Our grain also 'provided an easily transported form of sustenance for new colonies and victims of natural disasters.'" he quoted.

"Oh my God, you grew glop." She'd never thought about where the gluey substance came from or how it was made.

"We grew the grain and milled it. It's not glop until you add water." Realizing how defensive he sounded, Tor shrugged uncomfortably. "Planetoid 273694 was terraformed for the purpose. The growing conditions were perfect. Freedom Farm Cooperative won the bid to cultivate it with the agreement to pay off the purchase price over time. All the profits went to build the factory to mill and package it. The original plan was to cut off military sales once the colony was debt free. They were getting close to owning it outright when someone decided it would be a good idea to build a Godan military supply base there. The remainder of the debt would be forgiven in exchange for the land to build the base.

"My parents were against it. They were afraid it would change their simple way of life. Others said it would bring prosperity. What it did was bring our nothing little planetoid to the attention of the Hahnshin. It's the first rule of war. Cut off your enemy's supplies."

The Hahnshin would see no difference between soldiers and civilians.

"I'm sorry." Wynne worked her hand into his and squeezed to convey her sympathy. "I know that doesn't help, but I am. Was that why you became a smuggler? Revenge?"

He squeezed her hand in return. "A noble cause? Not me, Kushma. I'm in it for the credits. A lot of traders won't serve the outer reaches of the galaxy. There's more gain to be had in short hops with a full load. I found a pocket in the market and filled it. A lot of the goods I carry are so heavily taxed no one out there could afford them after paying the expense of shipping, so I find ways around it. That's where Beso comes in. He forges my manifests. I do a pretty good business in the illegal weapons trade, too. Mostly small arms. It's very easy for the people in power to decide what kinds of weaponry others should be allowed when they live next door to peacekeepers and have never seen a pirate raid. Those colonists need those weapons to survive. I'm just a conduit, a paid conduit, a smuggler."

"Do people really buy that line of bull?" She didn't bother keeping the smile from her voice. "You're a fake,
Tor, Captain of the Cargo Vessel, Sky Hawk, first son of Mikelotny of the House of Cliff. You don't ship goods to the outer reaches to make your fortune. If there was that much money in it, you wouldn't always be broke. If it was all about the credits, you'd work for Honarie and Orax, but you don't. You work for people like your parents, good people who don't want to depend on anyone but themselves. Those places are like Freedom Farm, aren't they?"

Wynne felt so relieved, she wanted to dance.

Tor tried to deny it. "Those places have nothing to do with it. I told you I do whatever it takes to pay for the Sky Hawk and its crew."

His crew of people who lived their lives against the grain of their cultures' expectations: Posy, a trained assassin who objected to killing; Ish, who couldn't abide by her culture's marriage traditions without sacrificing the lives of her suitors; and Truca, a mechanical wizard, who without the protection of the Sky Hawk's crew, was doomed to marry a boring prayer spitter.

Wynne wondered what stories were behind Cubo and Nix, and the two crew members they'd lost. All of them had a loyalty to Tor that went beyond a paycheck.

"They're much more than your crew, Tor. It's okay to admit it." She kissed the tip of her finger and pressed it to his lips. "I understand. I have a family, too."

A family who needed her as much as Tor's crew needed him.

~*~

Tor looked out over the rooftops of Celos. The setting of the sun had not yet reduced the accumulated heat of the day. That would change as the dark hours passed and the night breezes arose. For now, the canopy above his head and the long fringe that hung from it were still. The voices from the streets below formed a muted hum punctuated by the occasional laugh or cry. Soft lights blinked on and off again from the windows as people returned home from their shops where they settled in for the night or headed out again. For Celos, this was a quiet neighborhood.

In the distance, he could see the brighter lights of the city center fanning out overhead like a dome. He was too far away to hear the raucous noise made by hundreds of musicians playing as loudly as they could from the different venues where they performed. He was too far away to see the ale houses, eateries, and sex halls that catered to every appetite and taste.

At one point in his life, Tor would have been down under that dome of light satisfying his appetites, too. He'd given most of it up when Truca joined the crew and was surprised when he didn't miss it. The drinking, gambling, women, and even the occasional brawl were just fillers for the empty space between one voyage and the next. He was just as lonely one way as the other.

How ironic that he should recognize that void and find the one who could fill it now that it was too late.

He turned, hand going to the weapon at his hip when the door opened.

"Tor?" a familiar voice called softly.

He hung his head over the sleeping platform to call down to Wynne. "Up here. Watch your head." He lowered the ladder so she could climb up.

She smiled when her head popped up over the edge. "Mohawk said you were up here keeping watch. If he'd known you had a bed, he would have been up here with you."

"Which is why I didn't tell him." He offered her his hand and pulled her up beside him. He drew the ladder up after her.

"You didn't tell me, either."

"I didn't want to hear you turn down the offer."

"Of a bed?" she asked and then giggled softly. "Oh ye of little faith." She snuggled against him, forcing her shoulder up into his armpit in a not so subtle hint to wrap his arm around her. "Better," she said when he did and after a silent minute or two, "I like it here."

"On Celos?" he asked, surprised.

"No, not Celos. Up here, like this, just you and me, where I only have to think about how I feel and not who I am and who you are."

"Just the sex, huh?"

"That, too, but I was thinking more of just the man."

"And I, the woman."

He pulled her over until she was straddling his lap. His cock was hardening before her knees relaxed on either side of his hips and she settled her heat in the perfect spot. She rocked her hips forward and back and watched his face to gauge his response to his growing erection.

Hands draped lightly around his neck, she cocked her head to the side. "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

"I was waiting for you to kiss me."

"You like me being the boss?"

"No, you like you being the boss. I like watching you like it."

He really did. He liked the way her eyes danced when his cock jumped at her touch and that little secret smile she had when she made him groan with want. She mapped his body like an interstellar chart, keeping a log of each stop along the way with a notation of where the most pleasure could be found. Like all power, she became more confident with its use, but hers was not the power of domination. Hers was the power of pleasure and care with no expectation of a return reward. Her use of it touched his heart.

"You like feeling me like it," she teased, showing once again how much she saw that others might miss.

"That, too," he told her. His quiet laughter was captured by her mouth.

Hadrid's Harem, but the woman could kiss. She acted as if she could swallow him whole if only her lips could get close enough. Her tongue delved and demanded, and his tongue answered. Like the rest of her, Wynne's mouth was warm and sweet. Real.

He knew she spoke the truth when she told him she was inexperienced. Her wonder and delight in her body's reactions were too genuine to be faked. She was hesitant and sometimes awkward, but never shy.

She'd had no lovers and according to the old warrior, no interest in men, so where did her kissing talent come from? And did it make a difference as long as she exercised that talent only with him? At the thought of her in another man's arms, Tor's hands gripped the firm globes of her ass and pulled her closer. Wynne rose up to meet him chest to chest. Her breasts flattened against him and rubbed with the rocking motion that was once reserved for his lap.

The change in position made little difference to his cock. The pressure of her body relieved, it now strained uncomfortably against the seam of his trousers. The platform's curtains were still tied to the posts. They were on display to the buildings across the street. It must have dawned on her, too.

Using her tiny white teeth for a last gentle tug at his bottom lip, Wynne pulled back.

"Whoever thought putting a bed in full view of the neighbors was a good idea?" she asked with a frown. She threw up her hands. "Oh, I forgot. This is Celos. Who'd care?"

Tor's hand took advantage of the space between them to seek out her unbound breasts. His thumbs played over the hardened nipples enjoying the feel of them through the fabric of her tunic.

"It's meant for sleeping," he told her with a chuckle for her grumbling. "The thick walls of the buildings keep out most of the daytime heat, but at night it's cooler out here. Every home used to have one. Whole families would sleep outside. Most of them have been replaced by landing pads for street skimmers."

"Are those the things that look like skitts?"

He nodded. "More comfortable than the military ones, though."

She leaned back, holding the wrists of the hands at her breasts, to look above the canopy. "Why don't I see more of them?"

She didn't seem to notice she was hanging out over the edge of the platform. If her hands slipped, she'd fall on her head. Tor tugged her upright. "You see more of them during the day. At night, people walk."

"No drunken driving, huh?"

He laughed at the thought. "No driving necessary. You can program them to take you home." He pushed with his foot until he stretched full length on the mattress. "At night, people walk to take advantage of the cool breezes and the dark."

Wynne followed him, rolling to her back so that she lay shoulder to shoulder beside him. With her body raised and supported on her forearms, she looked across the narrow street to the windows of the building beyond.

"These sleeping platforms need landscaping. You know, bushes and shrubs and tall plants."

He laughed. "I know what it is, but why? They would block the breeze."

"To hell with the breeze, I want to take advantage of the dark." She lay back with her hands over her head which didn't help his gods damned erection one little bit. "Once is not enough," she sighed.

"It was more than once," he countered, not a little affronted by the accusation. "If Hadrid can satisfy an entire harem, I can certainly satisfy one small human. More than once," he added, just to make sure she understood. It was particularly insulting since his cock had risen repeatedly, breaking all previous records. "Can a human male do better?"

"How would I know?" She giggled. "Though from what Mira tells me, their egos are about the same as yours. I meant one night, not one time." Her sigh turned soft and sad. "One night isn't enough for a memory that will have to last a lifetime."

The painful hitch at the end had him turning to cup her cheek in his palm. "I'm not planning to die, Kushma."

"No one ever does. I left my father frying meatballs on the stove. He thought it would be a treat since my mother's appetite had fallen off. I left my mother grumbling about the cost of the meat. They weren't planning to die, but they did."

"Kushma," he whispered and ran his thumb over the lips still swollen from their kiss. "I'm not going to die."

Wynne kissed the pad of his thumb. "That your heart keeps beating will make me happy," she admitted "But it won't stop my heart from breaking or mourning your loss. If you're caught, you'll spend the rest of your life imprisoned. If you're not, you'll spend the rest of your life running. Either way, you'll be lost to me."