Stark Surrender (5 page)

She rode him in the darkness, fighting him for the perfect position so his cock thudded against her G-spot, their sweat-slick flesh slapping together, harsh pants mingling.

This time, her orgasm rushed over her like a huge, hot wave, bucking her high and then flinging her out into a freefall that was as ecstatic as it was terrifying. Only his grip on her wrists, his body under hers held her safe.

He pulled her down to him and swallowed her cry with another deep kiss, and she drank his groan of completion.

When it was over, she went limp on top of him. Safe in his arms, worn out by the emotions of the past days and by three rounds of Logan Stark style sex, she fell deeply asleep.

Chapter Four    

The man woke with a start, his heart pounding, his body tight, ready for fight or flight, in the way he'd become accustomed over the last several nights. He had to go, had to run, from …

He frowned at the darkness of the unfamiliar bedroom, trying to remember why he was on the run. But then a wonderful, feminine scent told him he was in a woman's bed.
 

Turning his head, he looked at her.
 

In the warmth of the night, she lay naked on her back, one slim arm flung over her head, her face turned toward him. She'd pushed the light cover down to her hips. Her bare breasts were like halves of a peach, small nipples riding their soft swells, rising and falling with each breath.

Her long lashes lay like dark fringes on her cheeks, those beautiful golden brown eyes of hers shuttered, her mouth soft and swollen from his kisses.

She was lovely and he'd had her. She was so small, and delicate in her sleep, all that verve and will and passion muted.

He could take her with him. It had been good with her, pushing back the black turmoil in his mind. The particulars of their sexual union were foggy, yet the languor of his body told him he was well sated. She soothed him—the pain in his skull had even disappeared long enough to let him sleep, although now it was returning, those huge boots stomping once again through his skull.

He wanted to keep her at his side, hold her for his own. But she might say no. And though he was fumbling in the dark like a blind man, he knew one thing about himself. He could force her to go, but he wouldn’t ... shouldn’t, at least. He blinked and shook his head, struggling to remember the rules he’d been living by … and why they were important anymore.

Wait. The darker, more cunning side of his consciousness unfolded further, reminding him if she did refuse him, she'd be awake, aware. He had to get away in secret, until he could remember, could assess all threats looming in the blackness.

If she saw him go, she'd be a threat. He'd be forced to neutralize her. And he was afraid he was ruthless enough to do it. To break something beautiful and precious.

Sweating again, he dragged his clothing on, then slipped from the room, and out of the condo, taking only what he'd brought with him. It was enough to get him to his destination.

Back to the beginning, where he could try to make sense of who he was, now that so much of him was disappearing … and why the parts that remained were so dark that looking into his own mind was like peering into an abyss—one so deep he couldn’t see what lurked in the bottom, but he could sense it.

At first, he’d thought the blackness in his mind was some foreign entity, attacking him from without. But now he understood. The blackness was himself—everything feral and ruthless that he’d suppressed until he’d convinced himself this side of his nature was gone.

He also understand, however, that someone else had loosed his dark side, made it so he had to hide. Now he’d find whoever had done this to him, and destroy them—even if they were someone who called him ‘sir’ and bowed to him. Especially then. He loathed traitors.

At the space port, he eyed the huge, graceful shape of the ship
Cassiopeia
, floating in her dock like a giant silver swan who'd landed to tuck her head under a wing for the night. Bound for Earth II, by the holodisplay glowing in the center of the outdoor concourse.

Earth II, yes. Images of dark, rainy streets and soaring towers flickered through his mind. That was where he must go. But did he belong on a ship this grand?

He was about to walk on when a Pangaean in a trim silver gray flight suit paused beside one of the waiting hoverlifts, looking up from the holodisk in his hand.
 
Recognition and surprise lit his face.
 

“Sir, good morning. Are you with us on the flight to New Seattle?”

There was only deference in the Pangaean’s manner. No overt threat, rather a subordinate.
 
But it could be a mask. He couldn't afford the risk.

"No," he said. "And forget you saw me."

Ignoring the way the Pangaean's expression went slack with bewilderment, he strode on, along the space port to where the smaller ships docked. Those whose captains would take his credit and ask no questions.

* * *

Kiri woke with a wince, her body bearing the soreness of taking Logan three times. Showering, she allowed herself tears as she tried to accept that it was truly over between them now. In some ways, such as sexual, they fit together perfectly. But in others they were just too different. And he’d said himself, he’d never change.

Time to force her attention back to her real life, the one that counted. She went to work, and spent the day serving customers with a smile, and supervising her coffee shop.

That evening, she fixed a light supper of fish, veg and fresh bread. She and Kai ate on the patio. She drank her favorite white wine from Pangaea. Kai sipped it cautiously but drank mostly water.

Gradually she shared her life story with him—the condensed version—including buying her small coffee shop in the New Seattle space port.

She’d also shared how she’d spent years searching for him via an investigator who it turned out was taking the credit directly to the casinos where he gambled compulsively, until caught by Stark's security people. She tried to make it sound funny, a joke on her, but the look in his eyes said she hadn’t succeeded very well.

Then he asked how she’d come to Frontiera, and she shared that it was not by choice, but shanghaied by a New Seattle ganger jealous of her preference for Logan Stark.

Kai stared at her at her as if she’d smacked him in the face with a piece of raw fish. Then he shook his head.

“I … don’t know what to say,” he muttered. “I always pictured you living this idyllic life with our parents. In reality, you may have been free, but—” He broke off, taking another sip of wine.

His words hung unspoken in the air between them. She’d been free, but lived in poverty. And, since Earth II was an overcrowded, polluted planet with beings fighting for survival and a bigger share of supplies and wealth, she’d also lived in nearly constant fear.

"But now here I am," she added, able to really smile this time. “Living on a wonderful new planet, with a bigger, more successful business than before, and you're here with me. My life is perfect." It was, even without Logan. She’d make it so.

Her brother made a low, husky sound in his throat. Laughter, maybe?

“Your life is perfect,” he said. “You’re either the most optimistic being I’ve ever met, or the most … naïve.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Why?”

He flung out an arm to the open air. “Because, you’re on a new planet that’s mostly unexplored and holds who knows what dangers, including those that might emerge from the sea at your doorstep. There are just the bare beginnings of peaceful colonization, where the law is enforced by an ex-space pirate. Your life depends on a tiny business, in turn dependent on the safe passage of supply freighters through deep space full of pirates …”

He shrugged. “On the other hand, what do I know? Be happy with what you have, right?”

“Right,” she said, but she stared at her plate, dismay a cold current through her good mood.

“Ah, hells. I’m … sorry,” he said, reaching out one hand across the table. She watched his hand hover and then retreat without touching her. “I’m not exactly the authority on happiness. You’re right, Kiri. You have a great life here.”

She looked at him, and her heart nearly broke at the guilt in his gaze.

“And thank you,” he said gruffly. “For looking for me all those years. It means … a lot.”

She smiled at him, even as her eyes filled with tears. “’s okay. I knew you were out there somewhere.”

After they’d tidied the remains of supper, Kai sat with her and watched a holovid, an old comedy that had been their favorite as children. It was a silly tale of a group marooned on a tiny island on Pangaea, amidst tropical vegetation and an idyllic sea. The characters seemed to have an amazing amount of clean clothing to change into for each scene, even without a cryocleanser on their wrecked space cruiser.

Kai maintained a neutral expression, and Kiri couldn’t tell if he remembered the show, or was merely watching to be polite. Whatever, it gave them both some downtime. Dinner had turned too emotional—she didn’t want to scare her brother away the very first week. After he’d had a few months of freedom, he could decide what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

And so could she. Because while she gazed at the holovid, she didn’t really see it. Instead, she saw Logan’s face again, heard his voice in the darkness of her bedroom as he asked her to come away with him.

Fool that she was, for one sec she’d actually wanted to go, wherever he was going and for whatever reason.

But she’d quickly come to her senses and realized that he was offering her more of the same—commitment to him with none in return. He’d support her in style, but while she was falling deeper in love with him, he might at any time turn to another woman.

She frowned to herself, fear niggling its way into her resentment. The whole episode had been rawly sensual, but it had also been wrong somehow. He’d been wrong—not himself.

Should she speak to Joran or Creed? Because something was going on with Logan. Something which, for once in his life, she wasn’t entirely sure he controlled.

Of course, she also must remember one key fact. Being hopelessly infatuated with the man didn’t mean she really knew him. He’d come up the hard way. Maybe he was simply reverting to his true self.

* * *

Joran Stark turned his head on the pillow as his woman shifted in the bed beside him, lifting her face from his shoulder. She planted her hand on his chest to lever herself up onto one elbow.

He brushed her long, silky hair from her face with a careful finger. “How you doin’, bunny?”

Lady Ellianne Braveling blinked, her blue eyes sleepy in the shadows of their bedroom. “I’m fine. What time is it?”

“Middle of the night.” He snapped his fingers to light the glowlamp floating to one side of their bed and searched her gaze with his own. Turning toward her, he pulled her closer, all her lissome curves pillowed on his bigger, harder body. “You sure you’re okay? No bad dreams?”

She wriggled to get comfortable, and he grunted with pleasure as her soft center straddled his bare thigh.

“I’m all right,” she said, and ducked her face into the hollow of his throat to yawn, her bare breasts pressing into his chest. “I don’t remember any dreams tonight.”

“That’s good, my Zaë.” It was good. The first week after the Indigon psychs at the exclusive clinic helped her get her memories back from the grip of the foul drugs she’d been given by slavers, she’d barely slept. She’d awakened several times a night, sometimes weeping, sometimes damp with sweat and her heart pounding as if she’d been running, often scared out of her mind.

When Joran had asked her what she dreamed, she said it was like being trapped in a holovid, with people and places from her past, some good, some not so good, bearing her along with them at top speed, top volume. Her memories were returning with a vengeance.

Luckily, that hyper-phase of her recovery seemed to be over. Joran prayed it was done for good. He’d rather be tortured by Ingoes than have his sweet, feisty immi suffer like that.

She should be thinking only of happy things, such as decorating their new home, planning the gardens and patios and their upcoming wedding.

All with her newly recovered parents’ help—or interference, whatever. The Bravelings had their daughter back and they were sticking close, staying here in the Adamant Lodge next door to Joran and Zaë. Luckily he liked them both, although her father could loosen up, and he was glad Zaë could be with them when he was busy taking the reins of his new career.

“Why are you awake?” she mumbled into his bare shoulder.

He dimmed the light again, so they were surrounded by sifting shadows.

“Don’t know,” he answered.

He did know why. He was worrying, about his older brother of all people. But his worries were nebulous, so he’d feel like a sniveling kid if he shared them.

It was just that Logan had looked weird the last time Joran saw him. Tired, but also he’d had a strange look in his eyes. Blank ... no, not that exactly. But strange.

And Joran himself had been so busy the next few weeks, he’d barely spoken to Logan. Busy reveling in his triumph over the slavers and the now-deposed commander of the InterGalactic Space Forces on Frontiera. Busy fucking his fiancé, and taking her to Indigo for treatment of the mental blight the slavers had visited on her. Busy planning the parameters of his new post as a sheriff here on this newly settled planet.

Now Logan wasn’t answering the repeated messages Joran had sent. This was not like him.

Of course Logan was occupied with his own new AquaTerraCon venture. But he still wouldn’t ignore his brothers. He’d watch over them, meddle in their lives until he drove them to threats of cutting him out of said lives, but he’d never ignore them.

“You’re worried.” Zaë stroked his chest. “Please talk to me, Joran. That’s what couples do. They share their joys and their troubles. So far it’s been just me sharing my troubles, and you taking care of me. I want to take care of you, too.”