An Apocalyptic Need (2 page)

Grimm managed to evade the other ships and slip outside just as a second concussive force brought the ceiling down on the docking bay, trapping several of the fighters before they could escape. What he saw once he’d cleared the
Avenging Angel
made Grimm’s stomach clench.

The glowing sphere had stopped moving and hovered beyond the range of the Angel’s plutonium guns, spinning slowly.

“So…not a random piece of space debris,” Grimm murmured. “Good to know.”

As he watched, an enormous cylindrical object emerged from the attacking ship and a massive ball of blue flame shot outward, plowing through the Angel’s shields like a bullet through water. As Grimm watched in horror, the Angel shivered once and then imploded, sending its innards into space in a billion, fiery pieces.

Caught in a backwash of explosive, fiery air, Grimm’s pod pitched violently and started to roll, spinning out of control across the black sky. He struggled to get it back under control but another concussive blast sent him spinning on another axis, severing his harness and flinging him around the cabin. Grimm smashed into the console and flew sideways as the pod continued to spin. He was flung from hard surface to sharp edge repeatedly as the ship plummeted through open space, until he cracked his head against the metal shell of the cabin and, finally, fell mercifully unconscious.

~AN~

Cari Pascale peered past her comm tech’s shoulder to the small, spinning object just outside their range.

“Do you want me to blast it, Captain Pascale?”

She narrowed her gaze at the tiny object, quickly spiraling away from them into deep space. Her mission had been to destroy the
Avenging Angel
. She didn’t even know why. She had her orders and they were clear. No survivors. But maybe the pilot of that tiny fighter could answer some questions for her. She could always have him executed after her curiosity was satisfied. She pushed away from the console. “No. Bring it in. I want to question the pilot.” She started for the door. “I’ll be in my quarters. Let me know when we have him.”

Cari moved quickly through the claustrophobic passageways leading between the sections of the ship. The
Morte Stellam
was a large ship, but because of its strange, spherical conformation and large population it was heavily partitioned on the inside. Every available space, no matter how oddly shaped, was utilized for something. She’d hated every second of her time on the epoch-crossing battle ship. Cari didn’t know how the people who’d lived within its strange, black walls for decades or even centuries could stand the constriction.

Only the dead center of the big ship was large enough to allow Cari to breathe. That cavernous, green space had become her sanctuary. She longed to go there now…to sit on the stone bench beside the trickling stream and listen to the chattering cacophony of transplanted wildlife from across time and continents. The variety was enchanting. The sense of freedom intoxicating.

Cari reached a hand toward the door to her quarters. Her fingers curled back to her palm when she remembered there was no handle to grasp. The sleek, matte silver door slid back into the wall on a wisp of air and Cari stepped through.

She looked around, feeling time and lack of space tightening around her lungs like a fist. She’d been on the
Morte Stellam
for three months. A sliver in time. But long enough to feel like a fish in a large, black bowl and not nearly long enough to feel like she belonged there.

Sighing, Cari moved to her sleek, metal desk and pulled out the lightweight, ergonomically-engineered chair, dropping into it with a grimace. Like everything else on the ship, the surface of the chair was coldly efficient and, though not exactly uncomfortable, not really comfortable either.

“I’d kill for some padding,” she murmured as she turned to her comm screen. Cari thought to approve supply requisitions while she waited for the prisoner to be delivered, but her finger strayed instead to the ship’s cameras. She quickly viewed the control room, the commissary, and the prisons below decks. She frowned over the darker area alongside the prison, which represented a series of large, metal boxes her master key wouldn’t open. Alcott had assured her they were just prison supplies. But Cari had to wonder why, as captain of the
Stellam
, she couldn’t get into them. She made a mental note to question Alcott about them again—and then, biting her lip, she pressed the button to view the landing bay.

The small, battered fighter sat at the end of a retrieving hook, its once shiny surface scorched and bent, with the ragged outline of a door on one side. She frowned, wondering if the pilot could have possibly survived.

Two of the
Stellam’s
crew members, dressed in the loose, white uniforms that were cinched at the waist, ankles and wrists with crimson bands, carried a limp figure to the air gurney hovering a few feet away and dropped him unceremoniously onto its surface. The gurney dipped under the man’s weight and then lifted, a stream of heated air spitting from its belly as the medic pushed it toward the door.

Cari’s gaze locked on the unconscious form atop the gurney and something twisted low in her belly. The handsome brown face was cut and bleeding, a wide, square jaw bristly with a short growth of black hair. The lips, full and tempting even in his disheveled state, pressed together in pain as he slept.

The man was tall, his big feet, covered in heavy brown boots, dangling over the end of the gurney. His chest was deep and Cari was strangely relieved to see it rising and falling. One muscular brown arm dangled from the side of the gurney, the hand large and strong.

But it was his clothing that made Cari’s heart race. She’d seen its ilk before, in the dusty depths of the dead lands. No battle leather covered his form. He wore faded blue pants that had softened over time to skim lovingly over his sculpted form and a heavy leather jacket, which was also softened and creased with its wearing.

He was dressed like a pirate.

Cari swallowed hard. If he was a space pirate she’d be constrained to end his life on sight.

As the lift doors slid shut behind the gurney, Cari dragged her gaze from the screen and tried to slow her heartbeat. He’d be standing before her in moments.

And she’d be forced to decide how best to deal with him.

Something told her the decision wasn’t going to be an easy one.

Grimm woke to the sound of doors swooshing shut. He tried to lift his hand but came up against some kind of tether. His eyes snapped open.

He was lying on a gurney in a spacious room with portholes on the distant wall. The black, silver-speckled void of outer space showed through the oval windows.

He moved again and discovered that his left hand was free. Lifting his legs, he determined they were unshackled too. Grimm sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the gurney.

His gaze slid around the room and landed on the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He blinked in surprise and then schooled his features into a neutral mask. They were alone in the room. A fact that more than surprised him. “Where the hell am I?”

The woman gave him a tight smile. “You’re a prisoner on my ship, the
Morte Stellam
.”

He narrowed his gaze. “The Death Star? How original. Tugging on the hard plastic restraint, Grimm frowned. “I already figured out the prisoner part.”

She shrugged, moving out from behind a large desk made of a clear substance with swirls embedded in it and perched her delectable ass on the front edge, crossing slender arms over her chest. “I’m sorry about the restraint, but it’s better than death.” She cocked her head, sending a long, strawberry-blonde tendril of hair to her shoulder. The shiny strand appeared to have escaped from the intricate braid encircling her head, softening a look that would have been harsh against the gentleness of her features. “At least I assume you’d prefer incarceration to death. I never know what you pirates are thinking.

She watched him carefully, as if to judge how he would take her accusation. Grimm held her gaze, giving nothing away.

She straightened away from the desk, moving nearer. “You
are
a space pirate, aren’t you?”

He eyed her up and down, slowly and deliberately, in an effort to rattle her. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded, but her cheeks pinked prettily under his regard. She looked to be around five feet six inches tall, with softly rounded hips and a full bosom. Dressed in a stark, tan uniform with a high crimson colored collar and some type of star insignia over her breast, she made even the dowdy plainness look sexy. “So you’re captain of this ship?”

Something slipped through the exotic, tilted hazel eyes. Grimm read the flick of emotion as regret.

“I’m Captain Cari Pascale.”

“What’s your mission?”

“That’s privileged information.” She stepped closer as if drawn by an invisible force. The woman subjected him to a bold perusal that made his cock twitch beneath his jeans. “But I
will
admit that you are a glitch in that mission.”

Grimm noted the soft compression of her lush lips and the enhanced breathing that lifted her phenomenal attributes beneath the stretchy uniform. He must have sustained brain damage because it looked to him like the woman was excited by his presence in her quarters.

Fascinating.

“I didn’t believe the rumors,” she murmured. She lifted a delicate hand toward his face, sliding a velvet fingertip along his jawline. “Exquisite.”

Grimm snagged her wrist, dragging her hand away from his face. The pale softness of her skin looked like porcelain against his much rougher brown tones.

She gasped, her body arching fractionally toward his.

“Am I to assume you brought me on board to serve as your sex vassal?”

Her eyes widened before she caught herself. Yanking her arm away she turned, moving across the room and putting her desk between them. “You were brought on board because you escaped the
Avenging Angel
. There were to be no survivors.”

“Then why didn’t you kill me?”

Standing behind her desk, she made no move to sit. Her fingers tapped the clear, swirly surface as she frowned. “I’m not sure.” Her gaze snapped to his. “I’ve heard much about the fourth quadrant space pirates and I guess I was curious.”

Grimm slipped off the gurney, straightening his shoulders as his gaze burned into hers. “Well, here I am. Has your curiosity been satisfied?”

Her green and gold flecked gaze scoured over him, leaving behind an uncomfortable heat. “Not completely.”

Her slender fingers stilled on the desktop. She cocked her head again in what Grimm realized must be her considering pose. “There is much I’d still like to…explore.” She slipped silently around her desk again, swaying toward him with a determined set to her delicate jaw. Halting in front of Grimm, she held his gaze, rose up on her toes and captured his lips.

Heat flared in the places where they touched—the sensitive skin of their lips, the spot on his hip where her small hand rested, the dual spots below his pecs where the lush tips of her breasts pressed. Grimm’s cock pulsed beneath his jeans. He reached for her and his hand was jolted violently backward, constrained by the cuffs.

The sound seemed to fracture the spell and she jerked back, breaking the kiss. She rubbed her lips with a fingertip, still staring at him. “I’d heard the stories but I didn’t believe them.”

Grimm fought not to shift his gaze guiltily from hers. “Stories?”

She watched his lips move, her tongue coming out to slide across her own mouth before she spoke. “The pirates have become urban legends of a sort. They have the reputation for being very masculine and…sexually profound.”

Grimm snorted. “Sexually profound?”

She shrugged, giving him a secret smile.

He shook his head, lifting a hand to skim a fingertip along the pale, flawless column of her throat. “I don’t know what stories you’ve been reading, but they have nothing at all to do with me.”

A strawberry-blonde tendril touched his hand as her head tilted again. “Don’t they? I think they do, pirate Grimm Forbes. I think they have everything to do with you.” She held his identity chip up between them, grinning. She’d lifted it from his pocket as they kissed.

Damn! Grimm was impressed despite himself.

A soft bell sounded in the room, saving Grimm from responding to her statement. He held himself very still as the beautiful captain of the
Morte Stellam
moved around behind her desk and slipped a clear, tiny microphone into her ear. “Yes?”

Grimm couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of the call but he could tell by the look on her face that it wasn’t a friendly one.

“The ship was destroyed as instructed…” she began, her gaze sliding away from Grimm’s as she moved across the room, turning away from him. “I know that but…” She snapped her lips together as she was presumably cut off again. “I’d appreciate any information you can give me…” Her frustration showed in the taut line of her slim shoulders and the tightening of her jaw. She lowered her voice and spoke again. Grimm heard her say his name. “Yes. I understand. No. I’m the captain of the
Stellam,
I’m perfectly capable of handling it.” She disconnected without saying goodbye and stood staring into space.