Shamara (22 page)

Needing to touch her, to claim her, he slid one hand down to cup her breast. She trembled, and he tore his mouth from hers. He stared into the crystal depths of her eyes, reading the desire there. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, feeling it harden, feeling the breast swell against his hand.

"Jarek," she moaned, her fingers clutching his flightsuit.

Fiercely triumphant at her physical response to him, he battled the acute need to find a bunk and possess her then and there, branding her as his. They were on one of Turlock's ships, with his lackeys merely stunned, not dead. Turlock could arrive at any time.

The need for survival triggered more rational thought, although it did little to cool Jarek's ardor. But he dropped his hand. "We'd better get out of here."

Eirene blinked, the glaze of passion in her eyes slowly giving way to reality. "Oh," she said, glancing around at the prone men. "Oh…you're right. Do you think Turlock is on his way to Saron?"

"I'm certain of it. Come on." Jarek took her arm and guided her around Keraat and Balen, stopping to confiscate a blaster from Balen's belt. "We'll move my ship to another landing bay. Hopefully, Turlock will think I left Saron."

She retrieved Ranie's pouch from the floor. "Isn't that what we're going to do anyway?"

"We'll definitely leave within the cycle." He lowered the protesting lanrax into the pouch and secured it. "But I need to check the ship to see if Derian and Keraat did any damage while they had it. I also need to inventory my supplies. They might have transferred them to another ship. Once I know everything is in order, we'll depart."

She turned to face him. "For Aldon?"

Her eyes were calm, accepting, and he felt no flare-ups of her energy. She no longer seemed upset by the idea. He began to dare hope she had decided to help him.

"We'll head for Aldon," he concurred. "After we check the ship—and do one other thing."

"What else do we need to do?"

He fully intended to show her. Leaning down, he kissed her again, splaying his hand across her rear and dragging her against his erection.

She responded, kissing him back. Her growing expertise in that area almost undid him. He ended the contact, his breath ragged, his heart pounding. Moving to her ear, he pressed tiny kisses along the delicate shell, felt her shiver.

"This is only a prelude to what I have in mind," he said. "If you don't want to go any further, you'd better say so now, lady. Otherwise, I plan on finishing what we started in the Pleasure Dome."

Eirene brushed her damp hair.
This is only a prelude to what I have in mind.
Jarek's seductive words swirled in her mind, and a disconcerting warmth flooded her body. Staring into his heated eyes on Turlock's ship, she hadn't been able to summon the will to object to his provocative declaration. Spirit help her, but she wanted to mate with him.

The ship had been moved to the far side of Saron, and Jarek had gone to take a shower, Ranie scampering right behind him. Eirene had gone to her own cabin to do the same, both excitement and trepidation whipping through her. She'd never imagined she would want to lie with a man, would feel the intense physical cravings she felt whenever she looked at Jarek.

She didn't understand the inexplicable forces that drew her to him. Yet she felt a deep need to bond with him, spiritually and physically. Perhaps it was because of the experiences they had shared, saving each other's lives. She only knew she wanted this closeness with Jarek.

At the same time, she was frightened at the thought of such intimacy with, and vulnerability to, any man. She knew nothing about the sensual play between a man and a woman. What if she didn't please Jarek? What if—

Her cabin panel slid open, and Jarek stepped in, wearing nothing but a towel and a seductive grin. "Hey," he said.

Eirene stared at him, her mouth going dry and rational thought scattering like sand in the wind.
Oh, my.
Even with his swollen, bruised face, and the burns on his neck and hands, he was still magnificent.

His smile faded as his gaze skimmed over her, noting the tunic and leggings she'd put on after her shower. "Why are you wearing that? Change your mind?"

"Well, no…I…" Self-conscious, she twisted her tunic in her hand. "I—I don't know the correct protocol." She wondered if he remembered saying those words to her in the Pleasure Dome.

"I see." The smile returned, confident, devastating. "I think we can solve that dilemma." He walked toward her, letting his towel slip away. "As for protocol, clothing is fine. It provides me the pleasure of undressing you."

Of its own volition, her gaze dropped to his erection. He was so big, so intimidating. But that thought fled when he skimmed his hands over her shoulders and brushed her hair back. He reached for the top of her tunic.

"I don't mind clothing at all," he murmured huskily. He slipped his fingers beneath the seam, sliding it open with excruciating slowness. "As a matter of fact," he paused, pressing his lips above the open seam, "I think I'm going to enjoy this very much."

He straightened, and she gasped in surprise when he swept her into his arms. Pressed against his chest, she felt the heat of him, the solid, reassuring beat of his heart. He carried her to the bunk, lowering himself beside her.

"That's better," he said. "Now I can do this right." He leaned over her, peeling back the fabric one millimeter at a time, kissing her exposed flesh as he went.

She felt the air rush over her breasts as the fabric parted, then his hands and lips were there. He took one nipple into his mouth, and sensation sizzled through her. She arched upward, feeling the pull all the way down to her feminine core. Memory had failed her. This was far more potent pleasure than she had remembered. She moaned softly, and he shifted to the other breast to give it the same sweet attention. Threading her fingers through his thick hair, she pressed him closer.

He made a sound deep in his chest and moved his attention lower, kissing his way down her midriff. Rising up, he tugged the tunic free of her arms, pulled it from beneath her, and tossed it away. He slid his hands beneath the waistband of her leggings, his touch a brand against her skin. "Lift your hips."

Not caring that she would be completely exposed to him, she complied, and he tugged the leggings down and off. She watched, mesmerized, as he ran his hands slowly, sensually, over her legs and pelvis, as if he were mapping her, memorizing every curve.

She'd always thought his hands were beautiful, strong and capable, yet surprisingly gentle. But now they were marred by ugly burns, as were his neck and face. Her heart ached at the pain he must have suffered. Hating the thought of him hurting, she rolled to her side, and up on her knees facing him.

He stared at her, desire flaring in his eyes. She leaned forward, took his left hand, and lifted it to her lips. She wanted to heal him so badly. But she didn't dare. She couldn't risk what had happened with Rayna. Instead, she pressed gentle kisses over the damaged flesh. "Give me your right hand," she whispered.

He held out his hand, palm up, and she raised it to her lips, giving it the same loving tribute. Then she leaned forward, bracing one hand on his shoulder. His arms slid around her and drew her closer, as she gave the same attention to his neck. Moving to his face, she gently swirled her tongue over the swelled, bruised areas.

She started to pull back, but he crushed her to him. "Eirene," he muttered hoarsely. He slid his fingers through her hair, capturing her face and claiming her lips with his.

She hadn't realized how much she'd craved his kisses, how provocative the mating of tongues could be. She didn't know she could be so wanton, falling back on the mat with Jarek, entwined with him, pressing her pelvis against his erection.

Or that she could be more wanton still, opening her legs when his hand slid between them to claim her most intimate flesh. He launched a sensual invasion, stroking and exploring, creating the most amazing sensations.

She couldn't think, couldn't do anything but dig her hands into the mat. And still he continued, relentlessly inundating her with pleasure, until she thought she might die from it. "Jarek," she whispered.

"Feel good?"

Her eyes jolted open, and she saw he was lying on his side, propped on one elbow, his other arm draped down her body. His eyes, filled with sensual promises, locked with hers. "What are you doing?" she gasped.

"Watching you. Spirit, you're beautiful."

Suddenly embarrassed, she felt a heated flush creep across her cheeks. "Jarek—"

"Eirene, trust me." He leaned down, brushed his lips against hers. "I need your trust. I ask you to give me that much."

The entreaty in his voice touched her heart as deeply as he was touching her, sparking emotions she'd never experienced. She yearned to give this man everything he needed, everything he wanted. She framed his face in her hands. "I do trust you."

"Then give yourself to me." He kissed her mouth, her chin, trailed his lips down her neck.

"I'm yours," she whispered, pulling him over her.

He settled between her legs, and she felt his hardness pressing against her. His tongue mated with hers as he probed below, gaining entry to her body. She felt a sense of déjà vu, flashbacks of the Pleasure Dome. This time, however, Jarek was slow and careful as he entered her. She was tight, and tensed when the initial discomfort became pain.

He held himself still and smoothed the hair back from her face. "Easy now. Relax, little one."

Soothed by his tender tone and his touch, knowing he would never hurt her, she forced herself to relax.

"That's it." He rocked gently against her. "We'll take it slow and easy."

Holding her with his eyes, he moved deeper as her muscles adjusted and gave way. The effort of his restraint etched harsh lines across his face. Her heart swelled at his concern for her, at his tenderness. How could she not trust this man who put the welfare of others before his own?

The fullness of him buried deep within her, his heated touch on her breasts, created a primal, instinctive need, and she began to move with him, matching his rhythm. Faster, fiercer, more urgent with each deep thrust.

"That's it, sweetness," he gasped. "Stay with me. We're almost there."

Almost where?
Eirene didn't know where she was headed, only that she was rushing headlong into a glittering, surreal realm where she'd never been before. No thought, only sensation, a wild freefall that sent her heart pounding. Their harsh breathing, Jarek's hoarse encouragement, her soft cries—all merged into a sensual landscape. The tension, the energy, building, building…

Fly with me
—
now!
he commanded, his voice reverberating inside her head.

Jarek!
She thought his name as she ignited in a fiery blaze, pleasure hurtling like a shooting star through her body. Energy sizzled and arced between the two of them.

Sweet Spirit. Eirene!
His voice again burst into her mind, just as he shuddered and cried out his release.

He collapsed against her and buried his face in her hair with a groan. She didn't even attempt to move. It seemed like an eternity before her breathing returned to normal, before she was capable of any rational thought.

Jarek groaned again, finally rousing himself enough to lift his head. He shook it as if to clear it. "Oh, stars." He shifted off her, turning onto his side and drawing her against him. He pressed a kiss on her hair. "You okay?"

"Hmmm," she murmured dreamily. "Just fine." Even now, her body tingled with aftershocks. Amazed, she thought that if mating was this pleasurable for men, she could understand why Travan males visited the women's compound so often.

Jarek tightened his arms around her. "I heard you call out my name," he said quietly, "In my mind."

She angled her head to stare at him, not comprehending. "In your mind?"

"Yes. You communicated with me mentally, like some Shielders do. And I felt your energy surge right as you climaxed. That's what put me over the edge."

No! He must be wrong. Thinking that she might have unknowingly discharged energy at a vulnerable time shook her to the core. "That's not possible," she protested. "You must have imagined it."

He shook his head. "I didn't imagine it. That was the most incredible experience I've ever had. I've never felt anything like that, not even in my most erotic dreams."

His blunt words shocked—and horrified—her. Could her power have been activated without her knowledge?

"Did you hear my voice in your head, Eirene? I spoke to you mentally when I felt the energy begin to surge."

He hadn't said those words out loud?
They'd been telepathic?
Panic evaporated the last of the   euphoria. "I told you that's not possible!" She pulled away and rolled to the edge of the bunk.

He grabbed her arm, halting her flight. "Hey, don't overreact. Let's talk about it."

Eirene couldn't believe she could discharge energy and not even know it. She realized she was trembling, as Jarek drew her back into his arms. "It's not possible," she said again, although she knew deep down he was right.

"There are many inexplicable things in the universe. Many things are possible. Shielders are resistant to psionic mind waves and some can communicate telepathically. Shens use magic to create much of their world. Enhancers manipulate natural and artificial energy. I've seen so many unusual things, I'm beginning to believe that
anything
is possible."

She shook her head in denial. He turned her toward him. "Eirene, I'm telling you about the telepathic communication and the energy surge not to upset you, but because I believe it's important for you to understand how your powers work, and to be able to manage them. Your safety and welfare depend on it."

So
did his plan,
she thought, beginning to seriously doubt the wisdom of allowing intimacy with a man who had held her prisoner against her will. She'd lived her entire life on Travan and was woefully ignorant in the ways of the quadrant. "I don't think we can do this again," she murmured.