The Skypirate Part 38

"No!" Instinctively, instantly, Dax moved, putting himself between them. Dare stopped dead. Califa, who had never even flinched, stepped out from behind Dax.

"You cannot protect me from this, no more than I can protect you," she said softly to Dax. "I brought this upon myself."

Then she stood before Dare, tall and straight, and so dauntless that Dax thought in that moment he would have given almost anything for a future that would let him keep her with him. But Dare's reaction told him there would be no such future, perhaps no future at all.

"You...brought her here?" Dax asked incredulously, his furious gaze fastened on Califa, the dagger still clenched in his hand. "Do you know who she is?"

"I know."

At Dax's quiet admission, Dare's gaze shifted. His lips were parted for his rapid breathing. Dax could only imagine how he must feel, confronted by the woman or what had once been the womanwho had been party to his years of degradation. And to find that the man he'd once considered his closest friend, his brother in heart if not blood, was not only a brigand, but had brought this woman to Trios...He was a little surprised they were both still alive.

"Do you knowwhat she is?" Dare hissed it out, in a voice Dax had never heard before, a feral, savage voice he wouldn't have thought Dare capable of. But then, the Dare he'd known hadn't been enslaved for five agonizing years. And he hadn't been at war, either.

"I know what shewas," Dax answered, fighting to keep his voice steady in the face of Dare's rage; odd how that strange detachment had disappeared when Dare had turned on Califa. "And I know she is no longer that person."

Dare whirled away, snapping an order that was almost violent to a wide-eyed young man who had stood unabashedly watching.

"Get them out of my sight! Lock them up somewhere, until the council can convene. He has the right to that, though it burns my soul to give it to him." His eyes flicked to Califa once more, and the wrath there had not abated. "I will deal with her myself, later."

He strode away, the cl.u.s.ters of people separating as their king pa.s.sed.

Chapter 25.

"I never thought I'd see another sunset here," Dax said as he stood looking out the window that was nearly as small as the viewport in his cabin aboard theEvening Star.

"Perhaps you should think about the fact that it may be the last one you see anywhere," Califa returned, her tone bitter as she paced the small chamber they'd been locked in for hours now. A narrow cot and a table that held an ewer of water were the only pieces of furniture in the room.

"It's Triotian," Dax said simply, as if that alone made it worth the possible price. Then he shrugged. "I knew what I was up against long before we landed."

Califa whirled then, facing him, her eyes wide and fearful. "But you wouldn't be up against it! Dare would have forgiven you, I could see it in his eyes, if you hadn't brought me here. G.o.d, Dax. I'm so sorry."

"Califa"

"All I thought about was how angry he would be with me. I never thought of how furious he would be with you for bringing me here." She shook her head, self-contempt welling up inside her. "I seem to have the knack of thinking only of myself. You shouldn't have defended me. You should have just handed me over to him. As a gift. A reparation."

"As you would have done, were our places reversed?" Dax asked softly.

"If I thought it would save my skin"

"No, Califa. Major Claxton might have been able to do that. My snowfox never could."

His gentle words stopped her pacing dead. Something had changed in him somehow, as if now that he was home at last, nothing else mattered, even the fact that the cost for his return might be his own death.

Yet there was pain in his eyes, turning the soft jade dark with worry. For her, she realized suddenly. He cared less than nothing for what would happen to him, but Dare's rage had frightened him, for her.

"Oh, Dax," she whispered.

He held out his arms to her, she ran to him. He enfolded her gently.

"I should never have let you come here," he said, his voice tight with misgiving. "You should be aboard theEvening Star, halfway to Antares by now."

She couldn't begin to explain the many reasons why she could never have done that, so she didn't try. She slipped her arms around his narrow waist, hugging him tightly. She tried to think of a way to ease his worry, but there was no way she could change the reality before them. The most she could do was distract him.

"They welcomed Rina," she said tentatively.

"Yes. They would. She is but a child, and she had little choice. She won't be held responsible for my actions."

"Fleuren, too. Did you see her face? And her grandson's? It was a wondrous sight."

"Yes," Dax said softly, "it was."

"Itwas a good thing, Dax."

"Yes. It is only my reasons that don't bear scrutiny."

She drew back a little, tilting her head back so that she could see his face. "You wished to atone," she said, puzzled. "Although I still deny you have anything to atone for. What is wrong with that?"

"I tried to buy forgiveness with my own people"

"You risked your life to free them," Califa said fervently. "And you brought them home. Surely you have the right to expect"

"I have," he said tightly, "whatever rights the High Council chooses to grant me. And doing what any Triotian of blood who was free and able should have done long ago is not going to win me any more."

"But even if you had, you could not have brought them home. The Coalition was here, and besides, you didn't even know about the rebellion until"

"Ah, snowfox, you never give up, do you? If I had half your courage, we wouldn't be here now."

Courage. The man spoke of lacking courage. The man who had beaten or evaded the Coalition at every turn. The man who had time after time risked himself to a.s.sure the safety of his crew. The man who, if her senses could be believed, haddied to save a boy he didn't even knowand a woman he should have hated.

"Stop it," she said fiercely, burying her face against his chest. "Just stop it."

For a very long time they stood there, holding each other, trying not to think of what would come. Califa was so full of tumbling, tangled emotions that she marvelled that the cool, controlled woman she had once been ever existed. The only solid, steady thing in her world right now was Dax, and she clung to his strength. She tightened her arms around him, wishing she could get closer.

"Califa?"

She heard the husky note in his voice as he spoke her name. And suddenly the veil of her confused emotions parted, and she realized she could feel him, hard and aroused against her belly. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted.

"I know I don't deserve this solace, but I can't...help it," he said, his breath catching as she moved in his arms.

"Neither can I," she whispered. "I've never needed like this before."

"Nor I." He lifted her chin with a gentle finger. "So, are we to fulfill the tradition of the condemned?" he asked with a crooked smile. "A last kiss before we meet our fate?"

His tone was mocking, but there was too much truth in his words for Califa to smile. And too much heat rising in her to say no.

"I had...more than a kiss in mind," she whispered. A low sound rumbled up from deep in his chest; she felt it against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s before she heard it.

"Are you sure?" His breath barely stirred her hair.

"It is I who should ask you that," she said with a sigh, "since it is I who receives all the pleasure."

"Not all, snowfox. There is nothing to match what I feel when you look at me as you're looking now. Or when you kiss me, when you let me into your mouth and then take mine in return. Or what I feel when you claw at my clothes, as if you were as anxious to have me naked as I am you. Or when you touch me, and all I can think of is wanting your hands on me everywhere, and wishing I could ask for your mouth in the same way."

In a few sentences, he had wrought complete havoc on her senses, and weakened her knees until she sagged against him. Whatever she'd known before barely qualified as a minor diversion in the face of the spiraling, scorching flame he kindled in her now.

If this was truly to be their last time, she wanted everything. Everything he'd said, and more. She wanted to open to him, to offer herself up as she'd never done before, and she wanted the same from him. She wanted him to give himself up to her, to do with as she would, to stroke and caress every masculine plane and muscled curve, to follow with her lips the paths blazed by her hands.

"G.o.d, snowfox." It burst from him on a low, harsh breath, and she knew her thoughts had shown in her face. She didn't care.

"Yes," she whispered. "To everything."

His mouth came down on hers, and they held the kiss amid a tangle of urgent hands discarding clothes without thought as skin ached for skin. Naked, they went down to the narrow cot together. Dax reached for her, but she pushed him back. He looked surprised, but lay back willingly when she placed a gentle hand in the center of his broad chest and urged him down.

Always before, it had been Dax who gave, Dax who ministered to her, even knowing he would never reach his own ultimate pleasure. But this time, Califa thought, she would be the one to give. She would give as she never had before, had never wanted to before, willingly, eagerly. In her life in the Coalition, it had always been she who controlled, and while a slave, she had been controlled. She was filled now with an odd combination of the two, a need to feel his dominance, yet exert hers over him; she wanted to watch him hit the peak screaming, as he had watched her. Not because she longed to control him, but because she truly wanted to give to this man. It was a goal that was new to her, and she pursued it with all the dedication and ingenuity of her tactical mind.

It began with her intent to give him a pleasure so great it could shatter the barrier his mind had built in his body. She would use everything she'd ever known about mating, and, if necessary, some of the things she'd learned during her enslavement. Yet it soon changed, and Califa found to her amazement that every sign that she was succeeding, every low groan, every involuntary movement beneath her hands, sent another burst of heat through her own body, careening through her until it settled low and deep and urgent. And every time her body brushed his, she had to bite back a moan.

The taste of his mouth made her long for him to taste hers. When she nibbled the sensuous fullness of his lower lip, she wanted him to do the same. When she tangled her fingers in his hair, savoring the sleek, dark length of it, she remembered when he'd done the same to her. When her hands slid over his chest and his nipples tightened beneath her touch, her own responded the same way. The muscles of his belly rippled beneath her stroking, and her own contracted fiercely, sending another bolt of flame racing down to that growing pool of heat and need deep inside her.

She became a wild creature, frenzied, yet never losing sight of her goal; she wanted Daxnot just a man, but this man, only this manquivering in her arms as she had quivered in his. Twice he started to reach for her, to pull her down beside him, but she resisted.

"Please," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper, "let me."

His eyes widened, but then, as if realizing she meant to fulfill the wish he'd heatedly uttered, he let his arms fall back to the cot. Califa bent over him, savoring the sight of this powerful man, naked and open to her gaze. And her touch.

She touched him as he had asked, everywhere, tracing every muscled line of him, lingering in any spot that made him suck in his breath, teasing it until he groaned. Her fingers flicked over his nipples until the flat, brown disks puckered tightly and he moved restlessly. She let her fingers slide down his belly, tracing the dark arrow of soft hair that shot downward. She felt him tense as she neared the thicket of curls below his flat belly; he was already fully erect, and when she purposefully let her hands skate down to trace the long, hard muscles of his legs he groaned in frustration.

She hid a smile at this further sign of her success as she savored the long, hard muscles of his thighs with her fingertips, wondering if his sculptor father had ever realized that his most beautiful creation was his own son.

Someday, she thought, she'd like to tell Dax that. He would scoff at the idea of his own beauty, she knew. Other Triotians might be known for it, but he didn't see himself as one of them.The beautiful golden ones, he'd told her when explaining his dark coloring; he obviously didn't place himself among those, although to her eyes the only difference was the dark shine of his hair, and she wouldn't wish that changed for anything.

But they didn't have someday. They might not even have tomorrow. All they had was now, and she was going to make the most of it.

"Dax?"

He looked at her then, his jade eyes hot, wanting. "Snowfox, you're killing me. But if you don't touch me soon, I won't care."

She smiled. Her hand slid up the inside of his thigh. She heard him suck in a breath, and wondered if perhaps he didn't want this after all. But then his legs parted slightly, as if in invitation, and she knew he wanted her touch as much as she wanted to touch him. She cupped him gently against her palm, lifting, savoring the so very different rounded male flesh, hot and tight against her skin. Dax let out a low, choking sound of pleasure, parting his legs further for her slow caresses.

Soon the temptation of other male flesh, fully erect and jutting potently, proved too much, and she let her hand move upward, fingers curling around the rigid length of him, sucking in a quick breath of her own at the scorching burst of heat that shot through her as she imagined that length once more buried inside her, stroking to the very heart of her, driving her body to heights beyond possibility.

It was only Dax's quick, involuntary movement, lifting his hips to thrust himself against her hand, that enabled her to restrain herself from giving up this quest and begging him to simply take her, as she had never begged any man before. This was for him, as all other times had been for her, and she would not give in. If he could surviveG.o.d, how had he?this awful ache, so could she.

She caressed him slowly, savoring each of his groans, each shiver that swept his big, solid body. She smiled when she saw his hands clench around wads of the thermal cover beneath them, as if that were the only way he could keep himself from reaching for her. By the time the motion of his hips had become quick, urgent, she was so close to breaking herself that she knew she had to stop. She did, but it was only to start over, this time with her mouth.

"Oh, G.o.d," Dax moaned. "Snowfox, I know I said I wanted your mouth, but...I don't think I canstand this!"

"I've seen what you can stand, skypirate," she said with a mock severity tinged with a tenderness that startled even her; she'd never heard herself sound like that before. "I've only begun."

The shiver that took him then set up an echoing quiver in her; she wanted nothing more than to surrender to this need, she wanted to take and be taken, she wanted to straddle him and take him in, she wanted him to throw her down and impale her in one swift stroke. But some heretofore unknown sense of rightness was driving her; she needed to do this even more. She bent to him once more.

She found a place just inside his left hipbone that had made him jump when she touched it; when she pressed her mouth to it, he moaned her name. She began to retrace all the paths her hands had wandered, trailing eager kisses over him until he was twisting beneath her lips. When he did, she moved to trace the faint, raised line of one of the lash marks that curved around his side almost to his belly. He went suddenly very still.

She lifted her head. "I've seen what you can stand," she repeated softly. "And I see you as you cannot. I only wish you could."

Then, without a warning to him, she moved to retrace, inch by inch, that most intimate of paths. At the first touch of her lips a throttled groan broke from him. When her tongue crept out to stroke him, his entire body went rigid. She lingered for a moment, but again the temptation was too great and she moved upward.

The feel of the satin hardness of him beneath her lips thrilled her nearly as much as the groaned litany of pleasure that was rising from his throat. But soon it wasn't enough, and she parted her lips to take him inside.

"G.o.d, snowfox!" It was a burst of sound that seemed to rip from somewhere deep in his belly. His hands left the cot and shot down to clutch at her, his fingers tangling in her hair as he held her to him as if he feared she would leave. She tasted him, stroked him, drawing him in deeper, until he was arching beneath her tender ministrations.

She felt the moment when he broke. In the instant before he did it, she sensed he would; he grabbed her shoulders, pulled her up his naked body, rolled and came up over her.

"I have never," he growled between panting breaths, "felt anything like that in my life."

Did he think it just some skill learned by a slave trained for pleasuring? she wondered with a stab of disappointment. Did he not sense that the difference was the feeling with which it was done? It did not matter, she told herself. She had not begun this for anything more than to return some of what had been given to her. And than his mouth was on her, and she had no room for thought.

He did not have to wait to arouse her for further caresses; her attention to him had aroused her beyond imagining. When his mouth came down on her breast, suckling her with a fierceness that, had she been less ablaze, might have hurt, a rocket of flame and heat and sensation shot straight to that swelling pool of wet heat low inside her. He moved to her other breast and it came again, that burst of flame, and she cried out.

When he seemed about to move she moaned a protest, arching her back to thrust her b.r.e.a.s.t.s up to him in a plea for more of the sweet suckling. He returned to her then, his mouth at one taut crest, his fingers at the other, flicking both to a tightness that made her fairly undulate as her body responded.

Her plan had rebounded on her, searing her intentions to ashes. She had meant to arouse him beyond sanity, and had wound up doing it to herself. She had hoped to break down that last barrier that held him back from her, and had instead shattered all of her own. She was what they had tried to make her as a slave, but never succeeded; a willing, eager, ardent vessel wanting only the man who was about to take her. Yet she knew it was because it was Dax; only for this man had she, or would she ever become this purely sensual creature.

When he did take her, it was as she had wanted it, in one swift, sure thrust that drove him into her to the hilt. She cried out at the sudden, thick invasion. She could feel the pressure of his body as, lifting himself up, he ground his hips against her, each movement sending impossible rushes of shivering pleasure through her.

It was going to happen too fast, she hadn't wanted it this way, she had wanted so to make it go on and on, on this night that could be their last. But she hadn't counted on the savagery of her own response to her efforts to drive him over the edge that he couldn't jump himself, and she knew she had lost. She felt the tiny pulses begin deep inside her as he lengthened his thrusts, felt the increasing slickness of her body as it readied itself for that flight beyond any star journey she'd ever taken.

It swept over her then, fierce, hot, bursting, an explosion of sensation and light. She cried out his name as she clung to him, the only support in her spinning world. It went on and on as he continued to move, never letting up, never letting her drift back down to the dazed peace she'd known before. He, too, knew it was their last time, she thought hazily. But if he thought she could do this again...She had to tell him, she was spent, she couldn't possibly Something about the way he was moving stopped her foggy thoughts. Always before, he had withdrawn from her the moment he was certain she'd gained her release, and after he had finally explained, she had realized it was too painful for him to do otherwise. But now he was still deep inside her, thrusting, his breath coming in harsh, gulping pants, sweat beading up on his golden skin.

"Dax?" she whispered.

"I..." He thrust again, hard, deep, and the cot thumped against the wall. "G.o.d, snowfox, I..." And again the driving thrust, and again, his still swollen shaft cleaving her climax-slickened flesh with a renewed urgency that she'd never felt from him before.

It was then that she recognized the faint undertone she'd heard in his voice. Hope. G.o.d, was it possible that urgency had sprung from feelings that had been absent before? Sensations long unfelt, long denied his body by the Triotian strength of his mind?

She erupted into motion then, writhing beneath him, adding her motion to his. She touched him wherever she could reach, stroking, caressing. She kissed any spot of the sweat-sheened golden skin she could reach. She felt tremors sweep through him, heard the almost desperate, guttural sounds that ripped from him. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back, the cords of his neck standing out tautly, the dark mane of his hair, damp with sweat now, tumbling down his naked back.

She arched her hips upward. He seemed to grow even harder, and impossibly larger inside her. Then, in the same instant, she raised herself up and flicked her tongue over his left nipple and slid her hands down his back to cup his b.u.t.tocks, spreading her legs as she tried to pull him so deeply inside her that even fate couldn't part them.

His eyes snapped open as his entire body tensed. For an instant he didn't move but stared down at her, jade eyes boring into pale blue. Then, with a harsh shout, his body arched, curving like his bow, driving into the very depths of her. Amazement, shock, and awe combined on his face.

"Oh, G.o.d, snowfox," he moaned.