Tiger of Talmare (3 page)

She'd never seen a tiger hybrid close up. In fact, he was the only one she had ever seen at all, and ten years ago, fully clothed, his mixed heritage hadn't been so apparent. Now she could clearly see the signs.

The skin of his arms and legs was marked with faint black tiger stripes. The stripes could also be seen curling around from his back, fading into the creamy gold of his flat belly.

She picked up his hand again. It was huge but otherwise appeared normal, until she pressed the pad of one finger and a vicious claw emerged.

Retractable claws, how cool is that
?

For a few moments she played, fascinated as the claws emerged and disappeared. She touched one, drawing a bead of crimson from her fingertip. She put the finger to her mouth and licked the blood clean.

What else? His thick hair was down to his shoulders, a tangled medley of black interwoven with gold, but there were no stripes on his face.

He was strikingly handsome with a hard masculine beauty that even she couldn't deny. Above his high cheekbones his eyes were closed, but she remembered them perfectly, greeny-gold, cat's eyes. His mouth was full, and with a sense of daring, she touched her finger to his icy-cold upper lip then lightly drew it back revealing long, elongated incisors. His breath was warm, and she snatched her finger away as she realized he was breathing again.

Her gaze drifted lower. His body was heavily muscled but sleek, like a jungle animal. His belly was hard and flat, lightly furred, the silky blond hair running down to his groin.

She whistled. She'd seen a few men in her time in the space brothel, and by any account, Zachary Knight was pretty impressive. If you were the type of person to be impressed by that sort of thing. Which obviously, she wasn't.

Forcing herself to look away, she caught a flicker of movement, and she placed a hand flat on his chest. His skin was cool but no longer icy, and beneath her palm, she felt the slight thud of his heart. Not long now.

She made to straighten up, but suddenly he shifted. One of those huge hands snaked behind the back of her neck and dragged her down toward him. Their eyes met, his slightly unfocused, the pupils huge and dilated, but the clear green-gold of her memory. His lips curled slightly. He pulled her forward. Then he kissed her.

It was so unexpected that, for a moment, she was transfixed in place.

His lips were cool and firm against hers. Her hands came up; she pushed them flat against his chest to shove him away. Instead, they slid over his satin skin. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could get a word out, his warm tongue thrust inside.

She waited for the revulsion. It never came. Surprise held her for minutes longer as he kissed her almost languidly, filling her senses with the slow, erotic glide of his tongue. The hand at her neck slid down, drawing her even closer, until she pressed against him. The coolness of his skin brought her to her senses.

This was so not happening
.

She yanked free and stepped back. Her heart was beating hard and fast, and she took long, slow breaths, keeping her gaze locked on the huge naked man who had just kissed her.

He shook his head and pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the cryotube. The action seemed to exhaust him, and he sat, eyes closed, breathing deeply. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and studied her, a puzzled scowl on his face as he searched her features.

She saw the exact moment when the recognition flared in his face. Followed quickly by disbelief.

"Shit," he growled. "Melissa Stark. What the hell are you doing here?" He frowned, his gaze flicking from her face to their surroundings. "For that matter, where exactly is here?"

Mel licked her lips and forced herself to hold her position. Show no fear. "You're on
The Revenge
."

"
The Revenge
?" He pursed his lips. "Don't you mean
The Valiant
?"

"No," she snapped, "I mean
The Revenge
."

He ran a hand through his thick hair. Mel could see a slight tremble in his fingers; he wasn't fully recovered from the cryo yet. Still, she watched him warily, her gaze straying to where the activator panel for his restraints lay on the table. She inched toward it.

"So, I'm a prisoner on my own ship," he said.

"It's my ship."

"You stole it from me."

Mel rolled her eyes. "Oh, get a life. That was ten years ago. Get over it, move on." Then she smirked. "Oh, I forgot, that's not really an option for you anymore, is it, Tiger?"

He was watching her, his expression guarded. "So are you going to tell me what I'm doing here?"

Mel took a final step to the table and picked up the activator, the tension oozing out of her muscles once the device was safely in her hands.

She lifted one shoulder. "I don't see why not. Your friend Sanderson employed me to hijack the transporter taking you back to Earth. For some reason he thinks you might have wrangled your way out of the death penalty and avoided getting what you deserve."

"So, you're taking me to Sanderson?"

Mel nodded.

He sat, head thrown back, obviously processing what she had told him. "I bet he told you not to wake me up."

"He might have."

"So why am I awake?"

"Your cryotube was damaged in the attack. It was wake you or let you freeze to death."

"So why not let me freeze to death?"

"Believe me, that would have been my choice. But Sanderson paid for you alive. He obviously wants the pleasure of killing you himself." She paused. "I can see his point."

He studied her, his gaze wandering over her features. "Is that why you kissed me?"

A wave of irritation ran through her. "Actually," she said, "you kissed me."

"Yeah, well, I woke up to find some strange woman pawing my body, it was an automatic response. And anyway, you kissed me back."

Mel scowled. "Did not!"

"Did."

"Fuck off."

"Very intelligent reply."

They were silent for a moment.

"You're not really going to hand me over to Sanderson, are you?"

She frowned. "Of course I am. He's paid me. I'm honor-bound to hand you over."

"Honor? You?"

Mel's muscles locked rigid at the sarcasm in his voice.

"You're a thief," he continued. "What the hell has honor got to do with this?"

"I'm not a thief. I'm a pirate. We have a code."

"You're a pirate? Jesus, save me," he muttered.

She could see his eyes looking her over, taking in her "pirate" outfit—the tight pants, the long boots, and the red scarf tied at her waist.

He shook his head. "How about I pay you more?"

"You can't, it's against the code. Besides, all your possessions were confiscated when you were arrested. You don't have anything to pay me with."

"They'll give everything back once I've cleared my name."

"Cleared your name," she scoffed. "You're not actually going to try and get me to believe you're innocent? Very funny. Ha, ha, ha."

She knew she'd scored a point when his expression tightened.

"Why do you think Sanderson wants to stop me getting to trial? Why do you think he made sure I was in Cryo for the trip? So I can't talk to anybody. That's why."

"Oh, really, this is so pathetic. So now you're innocent."

"Yeah, I'm innocent. And you're a thief and a convicted murderer."

Mel frowned. "Have you been investigating me?"

"Did you think I wouldn't check up on the woman who stole my ship? I saw your records. You murdered an innocent woman."

"Yeah, well, at least I didn't eat her flesh afterward."

Mel could almost hear the grinding of his teeth. Another point for her.

"I did not eat anybody's flesh."

"That's not what the waves say. The Tiger of Talmare, they're calling you. From hero to monster. Not that I ever considered you a hero, of course."

"Ever heard of 'innocent until proven guilty'?" he snarled.

"Ever heard of 'no smoke without fire'?" she countered.

He ignored the comment. "You, on the other hand, were proved very guilty."

Mel shrugged as if bored. "So perhaps I'm a psychopathic killer. In which case, it's probably best if you don't wind me up."

"Am I winding you up?"

"You're mildly irritating me. But that can easily be solved."

She swung around and took a step toward the door.

"Hey, where the hell are you going?" She took another step. "Get the hell back here. We need to talk about this."

"What is there to talk about?" She peered over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised in query. "I'm going to set off for the rendezvous with Sanderson now. We don't want to be late."

He jumped to his feet. She paused and watched as, almost in slow motion, his knees buckled. He managed one shaky step toward her, reaching out to grasp her shoulder. For a moment, they swayed together, then his legs gave out completely, and he tumbled to the floor dragging her with him. Mel ended up on the bottom, and the breath left her in a whoosh as his considerable weight landed on top of her. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Finally, she managed to draw some air into her lungs. "Get off me, you lump."

She wriggled her hand between them and pushed. He didn't move, just raised his head, and stared down at her, his expression blank.

"Make me," he said.

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Zachary Knight stared down into the wide open eyes of the woman beneath him. They were amazing—dark yellow, rimmed with black, fierce like a hawk's and holding just about as much warmth.

Her hand was between them pushing at him, and he almost smiled. Almost. Not quite. There really was nothing to smile about here. Hadn't been much to smile about in a long time.

"Get. Off. Me."

She wriggled some more, and Zach pressed down against her, holding her still. He wasn't ready to get up just yet, and besides, he liked it here. He liked having her beneath him, unable to free herself, unable to move. At his mercy.

She blinked up at him. Her thick black lashes fluttered closed, when they opened the yellow eyes were soft, filled with pain. "Please," she gasped, "I can't breathe."