Page 26 of Lost in Barbarian Space

He pressed his palm to a door lock and it opened. Inside, the cabin was much the same as his, but a mirror image. The bed was neatly made, no clothes strewn anywhere, and the tantalizing scent of Honor was strong.

He strode in. He saw two crossed wooden staffs on the wall above the bed. They looked old, the center grips wrapped in faded red fabric. He spied a framed picture beside the bed.

“Barbarian,” she growled. “How about you get out of my cabin?”

He picked up the frame and studied the image. An older man stood to one side, his arm around a smiling Honor. On her other side were two tall men with short hair and rugged faces. The resemblance between them all was remarkable.

“Your family?”

“Yes.” She snatched the frame and set it down. “My father and brothers. They’re all soldiers in the GSS—Galactic Security Services.”

Colm tilted his head. “Why are you not part of this GSS?”

“My father asks me that every time I speak to him.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sure you won’t understand, but I don’t like to kill. I wanted to use my skills to protect, plus I love history, so working security for the Institute suits me far better than the military.”

Colm paused for a moment. “That makes perfect sense.”

Her mouth opened, closed. “No comment on me being too soft? Not having a killer instinct?”

He guessed she’d heard those accusations before. He lowered his voice. “Honor, I saw you use that sword and I saw you fight the raiders. I think your instincts, killer or not, are fine.”

She stared at him. “You just keep surprising and confusing me, warrior.”

He smiled. “Good.” He was going to taste Honor Brandall before she left his world, his own control issues be damned. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

“A gift.” He held out the package he’d had in his bag.

She eyed it like it might bite her.

“Does no one give you gifts?”

“No one I work with.”

She was a prickly thing. “It is Markarian tradition for leaders from different clans to offer a gift at the beginning of a working alliance.”

“Oh.” She took it and opened the thin, paper wrapping. Her eyes widened. “Oh!”

The gauntlets were smaller versions of the ones she’d admired at the arena. He’d paid a small fortune for the artisan to finish them quickly. It meant they weren’t richly decorated, just a few swirling engravings in the deep-brown leather. But Colm decided they suited Honor better that way.

She stroked them, a look of want on her face, and it went straight to his cock. He shifted.

She looked up. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“It is tradition on Markaria to seal a working deal with a kiss.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Markarian warriors kiss when they work together?”

“No. They do a warrior’s shake, but since you have not passed the Way of the Warrior, you are not considered a warrior.” He smiled as she scowled. “No matter how well you can swing a sword or staff.”

“Fine.” She went up on her toes, pressing one hand to his chest.

He felt the burn of that touch, felt the sweet warmth of her. She pressed her lips to his. One fleeting brush, then she pulled back.

He saw the heat flickering in her eyes. “Kiss me again, Honor.”

“I shouldn’t. I think you’re dangerous. You warriors should come with a warning.”