Chapter 4:
Tara stared at the com-cast, and then slowly she reached out and cut it off. The screen went blank. Her head lowered. Grief broke over her. Jack was not answering. That could mean only one thing.
He had been taken too, and he was either dead or…
Did they do to men what they had tried to do to her?
Yes. She had seen males on those streets of that foul and terrifying planet she had somehow ended up on.
Maybe Jack was back there at that very minute, and maybe he was hurt or dead.
She had to go back!
No. No way could she go back there. She twisted her fingers together as she tried to think. Maybe the best thing to do would be to try to pry information out of Blade, get him to reveal the name of the planet so she could get the proper authorities to go back and find Jack.
Blade was on the run from a pack of killers back there—and so was she. Going back was not an option. She turned away from the screen, her eyes roaming over the small chamber at the back of the ship that Blade had shown her into. The place was beyond spartan, just a single berth on one wall and a small cleansing chamber and a food printer on the other walls. Nothing else.
She was hungry, and she was filthy, and she was tired, the effects of the adrenaline that had kept her up and running for so long had worn off, leaving her slightly sick and very weary. She eyed the cleansing chamber longingly. Would Blade care if she used it?
The door to the chamber opened, and he appeared. He still wore the body armor, and she stared at his body, fascinated in spite of herself. Little electrical shocks raced along her nervous system as she stared at the lean and well-muscled contours of his body. Her heartbeat picked up, and internal heat rose, making her face go pink.
She turned away hastily, staring that dead screen of the com-caster.
His voice lifted toward her. “Did you reach him?”
“No.” Tears came then, threatening to drown her. “I know he’s back there on that planet. That they took him too.”
“Was he very good looking?”
No. The word, such a betrayal of Jack, rose and hovered in her mind. He was not handsome, but he was sweet and kind and so effusive in his compliments toward her. She had never known anyone so wonderful, and she had always been shocked by his ability to deliver a compliment that would leave her blushing and stammering.
She had always been a little undesirable. Red hair was not a prized thing to have. People thought it the ugliest color, and she had often been made fun of for having been born with that dreaded and despised color on her head. For most of her life, she had longed to have her hair color changed, but that was such an expensive thing to do—especially at one of the salons in downtown Newport City where the dye would be permanent, and she would forever be a blonde. That had always been beyond her parents’ means and when she had begun working, she’d had to help sustain the household as her father had retired and then became very ill and there were credits needed to care for him.
Jack had loved her hair color. He had often stroked her hair, sometimes for an hour or more, and told her how lovely it was, how beautiful, and for the first time in her life she had seen that hair of hers as an asset, as something rare and precious and wanted.
Tears ran faster down her cheeks. She said, “He’s a very good man.’
Blade ran a hand through his inky tresses. His eyes, those dark and cynical eyes, lingered on her face. He didn’t ask anything else about Jack though she had expected him to.
Instead, he said, “I need to use the cleanser, and I must say, you do as well. No offense.”
She wrapped her arms tightly around her body. “None taken. I do. I ran through so much muck, it’s a wonder I didn’t actually lose my feet.”
His smile lifted his lips and cheekbones. It lit up his entire face, erasing the battle-weary and guarded expression he had worn since the moment she had met him. That smile transformed him, made him look younger and far less scary, and it also made her heart do a series of odd flips and pounds that left her a little breathless—something that sent guilt careening into her already broken spirits and flattened them even further.
“I’d say. I’m glad to see your feet are intact.” His eyes ran up and down her body in a slow way that made her blush deepen as he said the words. “You go first. When you’re done, I’ll use it and then use the printer to get us some food. There’s some tunics in that container below the berth. They’re men’s tunics, but they’re clean.”
She looked down at the very thin shift-like garment that she wore. It was transparent from sweat and the cheapness of the material. Her face went hotter yet, something she would not have thought possible just a moment ago. She nodded. “Thanks.”
He turned to walk out, and her eyes followed him, noting the way the armor clung to his firm and high ass and long legs. Another bolt of lust hit, making her belly weak and watery. Her mouth went dry. Her throat worked as she swallowed hard.
She waited until the door closed and then she yanked the putrid garment off and tossed it down the waste chute then stepped into the cleansing chamber, hitting the switches to make the spray as cold as possible.
An hour later they took seats on the bridge and before a small table with two swiveling seats that connected to the bridge. Blade had set the craft on autopilot for a little while, and she stared at the space around the ship to keep from looking at him.
Blade wore a loose tunic, trousers, and soft shoes on his feet. Tara had put on a tunic and found that it was far too large. Blade had given her a belt to fasten it around her waist, and she had, but even buttoning it as high as possible still left the neckline a little too low for her liking, especially given her strange and yet powerful attraction to Blade.
As she had bathed, she had listed off all the reasons why she felt that way for him. She had been drugged by those slavers. They had to have given her something to make her want sex. If their slaves didn’t want sex, they’d be in a real conundrum, she figured.
