Chapter 8:
Tara stared at him. “Where? You’re a Federation outlaw. You’re on the run. You’re going to be caught and…”
He stepped into her field of being. His arms went around her. His mouth came down on hers, and she shivered as his kiss stole her senses and his arms held her close to every single inch of his body.
His very hard and toned body. That masculine hardness at his crotch bumped against her belly, sending chills and thrills spiking along her central nervous system and making her whimper as his tongue plunged deep into her mouth. That kiss was hot and wet, deep and long and she wanted more. More than she had ever wanted before in her life.
He broke that kiss off, and she gaped at him. “How do I know you won’t sell me too?”
His hands caught at her face. “If I wanted to sell you, I would have. And I told you: I don’t believe in slavery.”
“What do you believe in?” The words were punctuated by another thin scream from below, and her tongue wet her lips as her breath caught and her eyes latched onto his face as she tried to find something in his expression that would answer that question.
Blade said, “I will tell you, but not here. Not here, okay?”
“Okay.” Her word was an answer and an agreement, and she knew it. His hand took hers, and they went out the back, closing doors tightly after shutting the trap door and replacing the rug.
Tara knew then and at that moment that Jack would die before he was found and she knew that she was helping Blade kill Jack. She wanted to feel bad about that fact but she didn’t, and that frightened her more than anything else.
They made their way around the house and to the hovercraft. They got in, and Blade lifted it off the ground, heading back to the airstrip at a sedate speed that would not get them noticed by any officers.
He said, “We’ll talk later.”
She looked out the windows, watching the city fall away behind them. Everything she felt seemed to have been put on hold except for a sense of adventure, so bizarre under the circumstances that she could not even process it.
It felt like she had died and been reborn in some fundamental way and she did not want to think about what she might have been reborn as: not at all.
She sat in a chair on the bridge of the small ship as it careened away from the planets below with her mouth hanging open and her hands up in a silent plea for the words she had just heard to be not true.
She got out, “War on the Federation?”
He said, “I will understand if you want me to turn this ship around and take you back right now.”
Her eyes blinked open and shut. Her mouth worked. Her throat went tight then loose. She muttered, “That is insane. No one can fight the Federation.”
“You did not say there was no reason to.”
She stood, her legs taking her across the short bridge and back again. She gaped at him, and then turned and paced the bridge yet again. She spoke slowly. “No, I did not.”
He said, “It is not too late for you to go back.”
“I don’t want to go back.”
He said, “Are you sure?’
She turned to him. “Would you let me, knowing now what I know and that I could go to the first Fed officer I saw and tell him of your plans?”
“Yes.”
The word surprised her. She studied him. “Why?”
“Because even if you did, it would be too late. It is already in motion, all of it. The ships are gathering and on planets where huge arsenals have been gathered, the war machine is oiled and on the move. The Federation will not fall easily, but they will not fall if we do not fight.”
She sat down and leaned toward him. “Why do you care? You live outside their rules anyway.”
“Only because of what they did to me.” He studied her for long moments. “They took everything from me.”
She wondered what it was that they had taken. She decided to take that statement at face value instead of asking. “I see.”
