His fingers yanked at her ankles, and she kicked, her first instinct for survival. He whispered, “Goddammit I am leaving you if you don’t drop right now.”
“I’m scared.” The words came out in a miserable groan. Her fingers cramped and stiffened. Dread curled and coiled in her guts. She had to go but she could not do it, could not fall into that emptiness below her.
He spoke again, and his words were a command. “Let go.”
“I’m scared.” She was. She was so scared she could not let go even though her arms felt like they were being pulled right out of the sockets of her shoulders and her fingers were beginning to lose their grip.
Warm fingers met her ankles again. That touch was so vital and real that it blew the shock away from her brain. This man was alive. This was real. The whole thing was real, and that small part of her that had thought that maybe it was all just some kind of horrid dream ripped and tore, and she understood without a doubt that this was real.
Those fingers tautened down, and then they gave a sharp tug. Tara barely managed to squelch a scream as she tumbled down toward the ground below. His arms went around her waist, swinging her in a slight circle before settling her feet back on the ground. He spoke softly, “You have no shoes.”
She said, “I do not know what became of them. I do not know how I got here. I have no idea of even where I am.”
He said, “You must watch for the snakes. They’re poisonous. One striking and you’ll be dead before I can even catch you as you fall to the ground. Now run, and stay with me. If you value your life, if you want to live, stay with me.”
His touch, so strong and so manly, sent shivers racing through her body and heat flushing all up and down her thighs. Instantly guilt hit. What the hell was she thinking? She was engaged, and to Jack.
Jack!
For God’s sake, what happened to Jack? Was he too a prisoner here?
Her savior’s fingers wound around hers, and she was jerked forward and onward. They pelted down the street and then up very high and steep stairs. Stars danced before her vision, and she kept stumbling. She gagged out, “I can’t! I can’t run up the stairs anymore! I have to stop!”
As she spoke the words, she turned her head slightly and what she saw horrified her. They had probably only climbed fifty or maybe sixty steps by then, but even from there she could see the vast netting that covered the dark and gloom-shrouded city below. It was a laser net! She had heard of such things, read of them in some reports, but she had never seen one in action. Newport was a peaceful planet; one whose military might was so well-known that none dared to try to invade it. To do so would be to bring down the entire might of the Federation upon the invaders.
She could see just how sprawling and huge that city was. It was vast. It was dark, and not just dark as in an absence of light—although there was a marked absence of light—but it gave off from malevolent, pulsing energy that she could feel against her skin. It fairly screamed of wickedness and wrongs. Of sin, of death and murder.
Her rescuer said nothing. His hand gripped hers, and he dragged her onward. She resisted at first but then realized that all she was doing was impeding his progress, and if she continued to do that, he might very well leave her there. She hastened her steps and then just as they reached another high plateau up on the cliffs, she collapsed again, sinking onto the ground and taking deep breaths as she braced herself up on her knees and one hand. “Please,” she sobbed out. “Please, just give me one minute to breathe.”
He said, roughly, “I cannot. Look down.”
She did and immediately wished she had not. There were lights flaring toward the sides of the cliff. There were shouts and the sounds of weapon fire. Lasers hit right below where they were perched and she knew that they were aiming upward but that the netting, designed to keep people out, was the only thing that stood between them and the weapons being fired at them. She gained her feet so fast it was as if somebody had put a spring in her body and then snapped it. She started to run, and passed him in her haste. He caught up easily and then they were flying up one more long and terrifyingly steep stairwell.
They made it to a tunnel. The tunnel was high enough to stand in and wide enough that they could run side-by-side, and they did. His hand still held hers and the shape of his hand—long fingers and wide but supple palm—made all sorts of thoughts that were completely traitorous to Jack spring up in her mind.
What was happening? And where was Jack?
She stuttered out, “My fiancé! Is he here? His name is Jack! His father is an under-officer on Newport! He was with me on Orbital, and we were having dinner one minute, and I was waking up here the next! Stop! We can’t leave him! We can’t!”
“Not happening, sweetheart. If he’s here, he is on his own. I am not about to go down those steps and through that tunnel again, especially not when all I would be doing would be running right toward those who wish me dead. If you want to give that a go, be my guest. Otherwise, keep moving!”
Just then they reached what was clearly a ship dock. Tara balked. “No! We have to find Jack!”
Her rescuer stared at her. Now that there was light, she could see him clearly. He was tall and very well-built, all broad shoulders and wide, deep chest, flat stomach, lean hips, and long legs all contained within some sort of suit that clung to his body like a second skin and outlined every rippling muscle and honed angle. Desire, unbidden and unwanted, made its presence known in the wetness of her crotch and the stiffness of her nipples.
Her rescuer ran one hand through his jet-black hair and said, “I hate to tell you this, but if you were on a pleasure planet eating dinner before you got here and you have no idea what happened after that… you were drugged. You were drugged, and you were sold. I would say perhaps you were kidnapped but when slavers engage in kidnappings, they are usually far more violent methods, and that’s usually something the victims wish, but only wish, that they could forget.”
Tara’s mouth hung open. “What do you mean I was sold?”
Her rescuer said, “I will explain it to you on the ship. They are a mere breath away from us. I don’t fancy getting my ass shot off to explain your maybe kidnapping and subsequent sale to slavers to you here and now. So let’s shelve that for later; what do you say?”
Who was this man? His harsh words brought tears to her eyes. Her body shook. Her ears picked up the sound of running footsteps, and he must have heard it too because his hand released hers as he turned and began to make his way, quite speedily, to the ship sitting at the dock. It was a small craft, capable of holding only a few, and she stared after him, knowing that he was not joking: he was leaving. Part of her was torn. Survival, her brain urged, run for your life and do it now while you still have time and opportunity. The other half of her, the half connected to her heart, urged her to go back the way she had come, to try to get back into the city and find Jack before something horrible happened to him.
Her rescuer slid the door of the craft open and jumped inside. Its engine cranked, and Tara knew at that moment that her only choice was to survive or die. She could hear the mob chasing them, and just then a bright burst of laser fire shot down the tunnel and bounced off the walls. They were almost in range, and if she did not get on the craft and off that dock, she was going to die. What was more, her dallying there was probably going to get the man who had just saved her life killed as well.
Tara turned and ran toward the craft. The door was closed, but as soon as she reached it, the door popped open. She jumped inside, one hand grabbing the manual door handle and yanking it down as fast as she could.
The craft took off, arcing sharply up off the docking station before she was ready for it to happen. She went flying through the cabin, rolling and tumbling until her hands found the bottom of a jump seat. She clutched at it, screaming loudly as the craft spun in a rolling circle, upside down and then right side up again several times over. She was sure she was going to die. She was equally sure that this man might be able to get the drop on a being whose back was turned and kill them, but that he had absolutely no idea how to fly an aircraft!
Then they were soaring, hitting space, and for a moment there was only dead silence broken by the sound of the engines and her own sobs. She scrambled to her feet and managed to work her way up to the seat beside the one that her rescuer sat in. She plopped into it and grabbed for the safety harnesses, buckling herself in so tightly that she could feel the press of the harness against her ribs and breasts. She stared out at the dead looking planet that they were soaring away from and asked, “Who are you?”
“Blade.”
Oh, of course he was. Of all the people in the universe who could have rescued her when she needed to be rescued, she just had to go to get herself rescued by a man whose name was reminiscent of the male heroes in the many-centuries-old tales of romance that she loved so much to read.
It just figured. It just did.
