Read His Fire Maiden Online

Authors: Michelle M. Pillow

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Science Fiction, #Demons & Devils, #Psychics

His Fire Maiden (7 page)

BOOK: His Fire Maiden
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“This never happened,” she stated in her most imposing tone. It wasn’t the most well done statement, but it was the only one she had.

When in doubt, give an order. Always act as if you know something the others don’t. Crewmen won’t question the boss.

The advice had come from her father. For a moment, with Dev, she hadn’t thought about any of her responsibilities. Now they came rushing back to weigh heavier on her mind than before.

Violette went to the clothing drawer built into the wall and ran her finger over the scanner. It opened, and she quickly dressed in a tight black shirt and even tighter red pants. The waistband had two narrow strips of material that looped around her waist and over her shoulders to create a decorative pattern on her shirt. When she turned, Dev stood, fully clothed. She hadn’t even heard him move from the bed. Searching his blank expression, she could detect nothing in him that would hint at the passion erupting within the room moments before.

“This will be your quarters while you are a guest on my ship. I will make alternate arrangements.” Violette moved for the door a little too fast. And, as the metal entryway slid shut behind her, she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that he hadn’t tried to stop her. Then again, what did she expect? The man her crew kidnapped to fall suddenly for the revenge-seeking captain? Theirs really wasn’t a fairytale romance in the making.

 
 
Chapter 11
 
 

S
tanding
emotionless should have been second nature to Dev, but as he watched Violette dress and dismiss him like some paid sex droid he couldn’t help but struggle to keep his composure. Everything in him wanted to explode in anger, and the anger was only to cover the hurt. He held back, swallowing the emotions until it choked his throat and tightened his stomach.

What did he expect? Cuddling? Soft words? A smile?

He should be grateful she touched a demon like him at all.

Then again, he’d seen her crew. Perhaps she had some kind of strange fetish. Being a novelty was almost worse than being feared.

Frustration could not erase the feel of her delicate hands from his mind. She’d been forceful and fearless in her passion. He wanted to touch her again, to explore the full length of her body. He needed to hold her, to feel a heart beating against him, steady and without trepidation.

Perhaps that was the cruelest of jokes. He had the Bevlon’s body with the human need to be loved. The traits did not belong in the same man.

When he was alone, his hands balled into fists. But, instead of striking out, he kept his muscles tight. Captured, pleasured, dismissed. There was only one thing he knew to do about the undercurrent of frustration flowing beneath his surface. Falling forward onto the floor, he caught his weight and began pressing up furiously in exercise. He’d go until he couldn’t lift his body. It was no simulated battle in the VR, but it would have to do.

Dev pushed his overtired muscles until they began to shake with fatigue and then kept going. Only when he collapsed on the floor, breathing hard and completely spent, was he forced to stop. He enjoyed the numbness that came at such a moment, not only in his body but also in his mind. Unfortunately, the feeling didn’t last long.

He couldn’t help but wonder about his friends. Violette’s crew had no reason to hurt a baby so Parker should be safe. Jackson would demand they implement a rescue plan. Jarek would ensure they were smart about it. Rick would make a crude joke to show he cared.

Dev didn’t want his friends flying into harm to save him. He didn’t wish to risk them to save himself. He would find his own escape before that happened. In a way, the quiet tin can of a room was comforting and familiar. The isolation reminded him to be self-reliant.

He lay on the metal floor, limbs stretched out, cheek pressed to the ridged surface. It was uncomfortable and chilled, and he refused to find anything better. At least now he was no longer squished into a crate. He closed his eyes and evened his breathing. Vibrations along the floor would wake him up if anyone came close to the door.

When he opened his eyes, it was to see legs in tight red pants. Well, more correctly, it was to see in-between legs in tight red pants. He started to smile before he caught himself. Not such a bad view.

Violette sat on the floor. Her back pressed against the door, and her hands draped over her knees as she watched him. Was this an invitation?

“What have you decided?” she asked.

Dev pushed up from the floor. Blast it. Not an invitation. “What makes you think I’ve decided anything?”

“You’re sleeping. You don’t strike me as the type to sleep if there is work to be done.”

Whatever drugs Gil had managed to get into his system while he was trapped like cargo must have dulled his senses. “And you don’t strike me as the type to watch a man sleep. Or are you that starved for entertainment?” He pretended to be unconcerned as he stretched his arms. His muscles were tight and achy.

She motioned to her cheek and then pointed at his face. “You have floor marks on your cheek.”

Dev touched his skin, feeling the imprinted texture of his hard bed on his flesh. It would go away. “You have green marks around your waist.”

She laughed at the observation. “A teenage indiscretion, an old style tattoo artist, and a stolen bottle of whiskey.”

Dev gestured at the darker line on his arm. “Born that way.”

She nodded behind him. “You can use the bed.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “So can you.”

“Quick escape.” She pointed her thumb behind her to the door. Though, she hardly looked concerned and there was nothing quick about her position. She’d have to stand to reach the door scanner, and the room was small. He could snap her neck before she even thought of leaving. Of course, he wouldn’t.

“This is not who we are.” She slowly stood, keeping an eye on him as she tried to act unconcerned.

Dev arched a brow. He mimicked her previous position, resting his arms on his knees as he sat on the floor and leaned against the frame of the bed. “You’re not trying to convert me to some strange calling, are you? Which one is it? We’re all pawns to the gods? Do we belong to the space overlords?”

“You’re surly when you wake up.”

He tried smiling at her. It was a weak effort, but it did cause her to relax her posture. Damn the woman was stunning. He wished she’d smile. Hell, as long as he was wishing for stuff, he wished she’d take off her clothes and let him do naughty things to her again.

“Besides, Salebinaben Johobik en Dehauberkelsain en Thoraxian en Yyrtolzx Devekin, everyone knows the space overlords are in a battle with the almighty whiteholes. It is our duty to join the fight.” Her tone was wry, and it took a moment for him to realize she was teasing him.

“You remembered my full name,” he said in surprise.

“What can I say? I’m impressive.”

“Your pronunciation could use a little work.” He chuckled to lighten the insult. “So, who are we then?”

“We, as in my crew. We are not kidnappers. We don’t ransom or traffic in life. I have no quarrel with you or the other members of your crew. My dispute is with Josselyn.”

“Josselyn is a member of my crew.” Dev had expected they would eventually have this conversation. He’d much rather be warring with her in bed, but he saw the pain in her eyes. She had to try, and he had to protect his family. Josselyn was now his family. She was with Evan. That is all he needed to know.

“Then she’s a new member. I can’t imagine she has proven herself very valuable.” Violette began to pace.

“Depends on how you define value.” Dev stayed on the floor, observing her. He enjoyed watching her move, like a wild animal endlessly looking for a way out of her cage, mind working, seeming to have forgotten she held the key to her own locked door.

“My father. That’s how I define value. He was a good man. He fought for alien rights. He was a well-respected general and a humanitarian and an alienitarian and...” She paused, studying him. “Well? Don’t you have anything to say to defend her?”

“I know you’re grieving, and while I cannot understand, as my father was no one to grieve over, I am sorry you are feeling pain.” Dev sighed, hoping she would let the conversation end there. She wouldn’t like his true opinion.

“So you admit my father was a good man,” Violette insisted.

“No, only that I do not wish to argue that point with you. A good man is who your father was to you.”

“Are you saying he wasn’t that to everyone else? Because I know hundreds, thousands who would agree with me.”

Dev finally stood. Honesty might get him killed, but it looked as if Captain Violette needed a strong dose of it. “And I saw what remains of the settlement on Florencia’s Fifth Moon. I saw what was done there, what Jack Stephans had ordered done there. I saw the bodies of the dead shoved into a hole in the floor of a castle and left in a pile to rot. I saw the imprisoned innocent in statue form, blasted apart by lasers in their helpless state, turned to so much dust it coated the room, and at first we couldn’t tell what we were stepping on—children, women, men, it didn’t matter. They were imprisoned and then killed while helplessly locked in stone. I saw a settlement whose people were turned to stone and their lives coated with ice because the weather regulating satellite was destroyed by Federation blasts. Josselyn was one of those imprisoned. The entire Florencia Moon settlements were wiped out. That is who the general is to those people but I can’t bring forward hundreds of witnesses because they’re all dead.”

“My father would never.” Violette shook her head. Her voice rose as she charged toward him. She pointed her finger up into his face. “I won’t believe some woman pretending to be my sister. I don’t care if we have the same mother genetically. She is not my sister. And your repeating of her lies about the general will not help you gain your freedom.”

“I thought I wasn’t a prisoner.” Dev wasn’t sure why he had presented her with the full truth as bluntly as he had. Maybe if she understood, she would give up her revenge. The heat of her expression was centered in her eyes. For a moment, he didn’t know if she’d kiss him or hit him. He leaned closer, knowing which one he’d like best. She did neither.

“You’re not, but…” She took a deep breath and stepped back. “I want you off my ship.”

“I didn’t ask to be on your ship.”

“That point has been established.” Violette regained her composure and eyed him with perfect calm. “Let’s not belabor it again.”

Her mask didn’t fool Dev. He knew well how people hid emotions. By Bravon’s fire, he was an expert at it. If she continued to swallow down her grief she’d become a bitter, hollow shell. What she needed was an explosion, a way to release her pain, and Dev needed a fight to bury his. If she yelled at him, struck at him, then maybe he wouldn’t feel the desire simmering in his blood.

“You brought it up.” Dev crossed his arms over his chest.

Now she looked as if she wanted to throw him off the ship into the black. “You’re wrong about the general. He was a good man.”

“Good men are sometimes born from bad deeds. Everyone has secrets.”

Violette strode to the door. The pain and grief building inside her was too much. On her way out, she stated, “You’re wrong. You don’t know anything.”

 
 
Chapter 12
 
 

V
iolette stared
at Jo in irritation. “I’ll pay for the extra fuel burn. I said fly us to the nearest port as fast as we can get there. I want the unauthorized cargo off my ship.”

Why were her orders being questioned? It was Gil’s fault she had an infuriating Bevlon captive to deal with. Jo was being overprotective of the ship as if putting it at full speed was going to damage the engines. Isaac insisted they let their prisoner starve so that he’d be weakened and more vulnerable and refused to bring Dev food. Ghost…well he just didn’t bother to show up when she called to him.

“Your ship,” Jo said, stroking his hand along the metal control panel. “But she’s my lady.”

“I don’t even have words,” Violette muttered, leaving the cockpit.

“She never lets me down,” Jo called after her.

“Just get us to the port!” Violette marched down the passageway to the small dining area. Without much thought, she grabbed a couple of food packs from a crate before turning around to make her way toward her quarters. No one was starving on her watch.

Violette stopped walking and stared down the corridor. She didn’t want to face Dev. If she looked at him, she’d want to hit him, then kiss him, then hit him, then kiss him, then yell at him, and then kiss him to keep him from yelling back.

He was wrong about her father. The general was a good man. She’d seen it for herself. She knew the many missions he took part of to help people. She’d seen the orders he’d signed, and the awards and honors he had received. She’d watched the thank you transmissions.

Violette looked down at the food packs in her hand. Regardless of the fact she wanted to run away and hide, she had a duty to perform. Repeating the words her father said to her on many occasions, she uttered, “Family first. Duty second. Then everything else.”

Since her family was dead that left duty. She wasn’t a killer or torturer or kidnapper. Dev was in her care and duty demanded that she bring him food and see to his needs. Remembering his heated touch, she shivered and tried to suppress the feeling. “Not those needs, Vi.”

She forced her feet to move. The plan was to drop off food and leave.

Drop off. Leave. Drop off. Leave. Drop off…

Violette stopped at the door to her quarters and ran her hand over the scanner. Dev sat on the floor like he merely waited for her to return. His blank expression didn’t give any hint as to what he was thinking. The drugs Gil gave him had worked their way out of his system, and there was a new clarity in his gaze when he looked at her. There was no fear in him, which took away any leverage she might have to keep him in line.

“You may sit on the bed.” She tossed a food pack at him, and he caught it easily with one hand. “There is no reason for you to be uncomfortable.”

Dev studied her for a moment before slowly pushing up from the floor to sit on the edge of the bed. She waited for him to speak and was a little glad when he didn’t. There was no reason to continue their previous conversation. She didn’t want to fight with him. She just wanted him off her ship and for her life to go back to what it was—seeking revenge.

Violette motioned to the food pack he held, “It’s not fancy, but it’s all we have on board.” She tore hers open with her teeth and then drank more than ate the thick contents.

Dev followed suit and tilted his head to consume the meal. When he’d finished, he said, “These are like eating fuel sludge runoff. Your father was a general, and you don’t have a food simulator on your ship? How do you not have access to that technology?”

“We have a Thinean on board, and he requires a special filtration modification in our life support system. It sends off a frequency that is incompatible with food simulators. The units kept breaking,” she explained. “Besides, I was raised on Federation meal packs. One can get used to anything if it’s for survival.”

“I understand. I was raised with branding sessions to make me tougher.”

“You’re comparing meal packs to mutilation ceremonies?”

“They both must be suffered through,” Dev stated.

She thought he might be making a joke, but he didn’t show emotion, so she didn’t either.

Her eyes traveled to his skin. There were scars, but most looked like the result of combat, not branding. The red bloodlines moving over his flesh were less noticeable than before. She wanted to ask him to lie down so she could follow them with her finger, tracing them until she could understand the pattern they would form. “You don’t look branded.”

When she continued to study his arms and neck, searching for the memory he’d mentioned so casually, he stood. Violette took an involuntary step back. Dev dropped the empty pack on the floor next to the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Her breath caught, and she couldn’t look away. The desire she had for him bubbled to the surface. His hands reached for his side, and he loosened his waistband.

“What are you doing?” She didn’t want him to stop but felt some feeble protest was in order.

Dev did something unexpected. He turned his back to her and lowered his pants so she could see a series of small scars moving down his side and hip. They made a path down to the backs of his thighs. “I’m showing you.”

The puckering of strange symbols created a crude pattern in his flesh. Her eyes followed the trail before lifting to his naked ass. Tight muscles flexed. She tossed her empty food pack next to his on the floor and then moved closer. She reached a finger to trace a scar. He stiffened in surprise and glanced back at her.

“How could anyone do this to a child?” Violette glanced at her arm the second the words were out of her mouth. She had her answer. Her father had given her a scar, too.

“Pain conditioning is the Bevlon way.” He held still, not bothering to pull up his pants. Her finger traced the pattern across the back of his thigh to his hip. She had not noticed them before in their frenzied lovemaking.

Love? No. What they did was not lovemaking. It was more primal than that. There was no love here. There couldn’t be. Violette did not feed into romantic notions. She couldn’t afford to. This man was the friend of her enemy. She had to remind herself of that fact. She couldn’t forget it. Then why couldn’t she force herself to leave?

Nothing in this universe was simple.

Violette felt drawn to him, wanting to be closer, wanting to connect and feel. Flattening her hand more fully against his flesh, she let it slide around to his stomach. She stood next to him and leaned her cheek against his back. Heat radiated off his skin. The intimate contact of flesh made it impossible to pull away. His breathing became hypnotic.

She closed her eyes. “I’m so exhausted.”

Why did she admit that? It felt like a weakness.

He turned in her arms. Her head lifted briefly before resting on his chest. Her gaze roamed over his body, traveling over his stomach to the growing arousal between his thighs. He clearly wanted her, but he didn’t move to initiate passion.

He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Then you should rest.”

Her exhaustion was more than just lack of sleep. It was the weight of everything sitting on her shoulders that she had to face alone. Dev was not part of her life. He was a brief, passing moment. She could never care for him. Life had made sure of that. But for right now, in this instance, she took comfort in the fact that he was warm and breathing, and that she liked the feel of him against her. Before when they came together, it was an explosion. Now, it was…

He ran his hand slowly down her arm, causing her to shiver at the brush of heat.

Now it was something she could not define.

She lifted her head to gaze into his dark eyes. There was a sadness in him, a regret. Did he feel it to—the temporariness of their time together?

Dev kicked off his boots and then stepped out of the pants that were piled around his ankles. He leaned over and lifted her up into his arms. He laid her down on the mattress and then settled next to her, keeping his body on the side closest to the door. The narrow bed would only fit them comfortably if Dev rested on his side. He arranged his arm over her waist and held her against his chest.

“Sleep,” he said.

The word sounded like an order, but she didn’t protest as she closed her eyes. Yes. Sleep.

 
BOOK: His Fire Maiden
10.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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