Striker Page 9

  She clutched his biceps as his pace increased. Her breathing came in short, sharp gasps as that delicious wave crested, and she was lost in a rocketing, glorious orgasm. He stiffened, dove into her, groaned from the pit of his stomach. He tossed his head back, beads of perspiration dripping down his cheek as he released into her. His muscles strained, skin glistened. Her last coherent thought as another orgasm crashed around her was how glorious he looked.

  Chapter Twelve

  She awoke hot. And she felt wonderful, her muscles in a relaxed, languid state. She stretched, enjoying the relief. She floated in a mental pool of lethargy.

  Until she remembered what she'd just done.

  Her muscles went rigid, and her eyes snapped open. A huge mound of muscles shifted beneath her sprawled limbs. One arm was strewn over his chest, a leg covering both massive thighs. A naked chest and equally naked thighs.

  She peeked down the length of his stomach and beyond; yep. That was naked too, and with that realization went the faint hope that it had all been a dream.

  She unpeeled her limbs as carefully as she could. Striker's arm came across her shoulders, even in his sleep. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and slowly lowered the limb so it fell to the leaves behind her.

  She leveraged herself away, the air cool where they were pressed skin to skin. He hardly stirred. She let go the breath she hadn't realized she been holding. It wheezed out, leaving her feeling like a flat tire.

  Holy fuck. What. The Hell. Had. She. Done?

  Just the absolute worst thing she could ever do on a mission.

  Because that was what she was.

  On a mission.

  And for reasons beyond her comprehension, she hadn't been able to rein in her libido, nor could she reverse the hands of time prior to, oh, I don't know - fucking everything up.

  She hung her head in her hands before parting her fingers and running her eyes over Striker's muscular form. His chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath. A fist loosely curled by his side. Long fingers that had held her so gently. Tenderly, even, despite the passion of their lovemaking. She wondered how hands that looked so powerful could foster such tenderness. Even the way he'd looked at her while they'd made love, with ferocity and longing in his eyes.

  A look she didn't deserve.

  He didn't know her. What she'd done. The mission that had killed her team. Her friends. The only family she had. She wasn’t a person someone should be getting this close to.

  It was a mistake she couldn't afford to make again.

  Heart pounding, she snatched her clothes where she'd flung them, jerking her limbs into them.

  The mission. She had to stay on task. Not be diverted. Diversions got people killed. She couldn't expect Striker to put himself in any more danger than he already had. For what? A solider who'd had everything ripped away from her after a series of bad decisions? She didn't deserve anyone to put their lives on the line for her. Absolutely not a man like Striker. He'd be safe in the cave. Certainly have more of a chance of survival without being weighed down by her.

  She got herself into this situation, and she'd damn well get herself back. Striker would remain here, in the cave, safe, and she would send a communication. She ignored the pang that urged her to lie back down next to him, stretch out and enjoy him skin to skin, wait for him to wake and make love to him again. But she was a soldier, and until a few weeks ago a damn good one. She was the best at ignoring her feelings and what she wanted to do in place of the bigger picture. This time was going to be no different.

  Striker's odd-looking Starjet would be the most logical place to send a signal. She didn't know what a communication tower even looked like. At least she knew what the Starjet looked like. Had the location marked on the map on Striker's wrist device. It was almost too easy.

  Almost.

  Except she was on an alien planet. Unknown territory. Unknown enemy.

  Not to mention after the best sex of her life.

  Seductive heat with a dose of confusion barrelled into her. She never did this…this casual sex thing. And to do so under these circumstances was something she absolutely should not have done. It was almost as though she hadn't been able to help herself, but her entire career - her entire life - was built on tight self-control.

  She cringed at the way in which she left Striker. Like she was sneaking away.

  Well, aren't you?

  She shoved that little voice to the side. The last thing she needed was a conscience about walking away like she was.

  She was trying to make this right. She was trying to keep him safe. She was trying to make up for so many wrongs. She didn’t have the right to expect anyone to save her sorry arse.

  Just keep telling yourself that.

  Great. Now the voice had an attitude.

  Get out of your head, Demazi, and concentrate on the mission. Don't overthink.

  One of the first things a soldier learned was stealth. A tactic she was particularly good at. She unlatched the device from around his wrist without him even stirring. Maybe she could be a pick-pocket when she got back home. Disgraced solider turned thief. Had a ring to it. A bad ring, but a ring nonetheless. The wry thought amused her for all of a second before the familiar heaviness in her heart returned.

  Latching the device into her own wrist and boots in hand, she strode to the gap Striker had covered with the vines. A whisper skirted her hearing. She spun on the balls of her feet, eyes darting about, but Striker remained asleep on the pallet and the cave was still.

  She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she waited for her racing heart to relax, keeping still should a shadowy shape move in a distant part of the cave. But the light continued to twinkle and the water continued to flow. Apart from that, nothing else moved. The sound had to be her imagination.

  She parted the vines and stepped through, arranging them again as though she'd never touched them. She edged her way along the pitch black tunnel using her fingertips running along the damp stone walls as a guide. It was so quiet, her breathing sounded loud in her own ears, but she knew that was just a trick of such absolute silence.

  A sudden wave of dizziness overcame her. She reached for the wall, leaning against it heavily while she waited for the feeling to pass. Her breath was shaky when some strength returned.

  Where had that come from?

  She shook her head to work away the last of it. Now was not the time for her body to slow her down. She locked her knees, drew a deep breath and kept walking, determination keeping her on her feet.

  The blackness of the tunnel faded into filtered grey daylight that led around a tight corner to reveal a smallish cave. The grey daylight streaming in through the opening blinded her for a moment. She crept slowly, skirting the cave wall until she came to the outside.

  She peered out while remaining in the shadows. Saucer-shaped objects upon which stood two to three of those vile creatures skimmed the tops of the trees. She drew back. Seeing them again made this all too real.

  The urge to go back and find comfort in Striker's arms was a real temptation. But one she was determined not to give in to. One of the outcomes of being held captive by terrorists was to ignore the fear.

  Fear meant you made mistakes. Fear made you weak. Fear was just an emotion, and emotions can be controlled.

  She closed her eyes, seeing her fear as a black cloud that hovered around her head and heart. In her mind, she grabbed the cloud and worked it into a ball no bigger than a tennis ball before stuffing it inside that little chest she kept under tight lock and key in that place deep down inside her.

  She was getting to be an expert at doing that. Anything she didn't like feeling became a heavy, black little ball stuck inside that mental chest. Good as gone.

  There was a slight twinge in her chest before steel reserve and determination replaced the fear. Marginally better. At least she could think clearly now. Things would be so much easier if she just didn't have to feel anything at all.

  Concen
trating outside, she waited and watched. Soon a pattern emerged. They were obviously looking for the both of them, and they were doing a really bad job of it. The gaps between crafts flying overhead and where they looked were huge. There was little organization and even less ability. They didn’t seem to be able to see very much with those beady eyes of theirs. Judging by their lack of ability, she might just have a chance of reaching the Starjet.

  She retreated back into the cave and opened the map on the Seeker the same way Striker had. The three-dimensional display appeared, the typography and direction clear. Over the ridge and down the valley. Easy. She could do this.

  She was going to do this.

  She waited until the next gap in the traffic of hovercrafts and quietly dashed into the dense foliage of the surrounding trees, ignoring the biting cold and unnamed feeling in her heart that urged her to return to Striker.

  She ducked beneath a low-hanging branch, hunching into a still ball, her hand on the rough trunk to steady herself. A whisper swished around her. A part of the air, and yet not. A heated sweat broke out over her skin as she spun about, but nothing could have spoken to her.

  She wouldn't be surprised if she was going crazy. She'd be insane not to go crazy, all things considered. A giggle wanted to escape, but she tamped it down. She couldn't afford to make a sound. Another craft soundlessly drifted overhead. She became as still as the trees covering her until it passed.

  Her breath condensed in the air as she hunched over to the next tree, then the next. She darted through the forest, vigilant and tense, heading towards the ridge and valley beyond. The Reptile patrols were often, but not too thorough. Soldiers like that would get sacked on her watch. Be sent back to Basic at the least.

  Soon the dull daylight thickened into deeper shadow as night approached. The cool temperature also dropped, enough that the chill of the night bit through her clothing suited for much warmer temperatures.

  She put her mind from the chill. Keeping moving would ward off the worst. She wondered how long Striker had been awake. He'd have to be by now. He wouldn’t follow. Wouldn’t know which direction she'd taken. She had his Seeker, after all. He was experienced enough to know if he stayed in the cave, he'd be safe. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be that much longer once she had a signal out.

  She hunched beneath the shelter of some thick foliage, chancing another glimpse at the map. She was about halfway there now. The slope of the land leading up the ridge was quite steep and rocky, but judging by the time she'd spent trekking through the forest, she should make the jet before sunup.

  A dismembered voice passed her ear. A touch on her shoulder. She spun, gravel tinkling down the slope as her shoe slipped. There was nothing there but air, but she couldn't chase the feeling that she was being watched. But there were no patrols. Nothing moved in the underbrush. No one about.

  The voices were getting worse. More prominent. Urgent, even. If she concentrated, she could almost hear words. She wiped the sweat that burst from her forehead with a shaking hand.

  Paranoia. Delusions. Her tenuous hold on her mental capabilities was diminishing. She'd been through a lot. Maybe too much for her mind to handle. Pity she couldn’t have lost her sanity back on Earth. At least they had hospitals there for this type of thing.

  She grit her teeth so hard, it almost hurt, and rubbed the spot on her shoulder where the ghostly hand had touched her. She could still feel its touch on her shoulder, as though the hand was still there. Even though it wasn't. Never had been. It was all in her mind, coming to an inevitable end. She was on a downward spiral. The signs were all there.

  She just needed to cling to some semblance of sanity until she sent a rescue message. She dashed beneath the trees, her breathing becoming laboured, muscles tensed and burning. She slipped on the gravel, pulled herself up the slope using branches as leverage. The voices whispered again, echoing from the air.

  She ignored them.

  She'd keep going. No stopping to rest. Insanity could wait just a few more hours before she checked out of reality. It would really be the perfect end to a shitty run.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Striker jerked awake and immediately knew she wasn't there. A quick look at the space next to him and around the empty cave confirmed it. He jumped to his feet, heart racing. His fingers checked an empty wrist, and he cursed.

  She'd taken his Seeker and was no doubt trying to make her way to the Starjet to send a message. It was what he’d do, given her situation.

  He called her name anyway, but only stony silence replied.

  Of all the stupid, irresponsible, reckless, foolish, brave, gutsy things to do.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, locking his hands behind his head in helpless frustration, oscillating between anger and admiration for the Earth Captain.

  Although she was a strong woman, she didn’t know just how vulnerable she was. Or what the Reptiles would do to her if she was caught. They weren't known for their humanity. They'd gone to great lengths to abduct her and they wanted her back. The thought sent a chill through his stomach.

  The chill turned to frost when he realized she might have gone because they’d made love. He'd never been so seriously turned on before in his life, almost as though his desire had been ignited by another force beyond his control.

  He'd been in his mind. And his body. There was no denying that. But it had been as though he just couldn't help himself. If she'd said no, he would have stopped without question, although it would have taken every shred of willpower. And more.

  But she hadn't. Had seemed to be just as unable to ignore her craving as much as he. As far as he could tell, it had been consensual on both sides, albeit out of his range of normal. But why had she run?

  It begged the question of a deeper motivation. He and she were going to have a serious conversation when he got his hands on her. What she didn’t realise was that he knew exactly where the Starjet was. The Reptiles wouldn’t be able to open the plasti-steel cockpit, let alone fit in there to fly it anywhere, so it would still be where he landed it.

  He jerked on his clothing and stalked to the vines Vivien had carefully arranged to hide the crack in the wall. He reached for the closest vine and parted it. Tried to anyway. It was as solid as a tube of steel.

  He frowned, gripping the vine with two hands, but he only succeeded in slipping in the sand. He stepped back in confusion. The leaves along the ends of the vines began to tremble and shake. A vine twirled around his ankle. He kicked it off, staggering backwards. The vines trailed over the sand, lashing around both ankles, taking his balance out from beneath him. His momentum brought him to his backside. More vines snaked around his wrists, tugging his arms away from his body. He struggled, but the vines were stronger and quickly had him spread-eagled on his back in moments.

  “Be calm.”

  A voice whispered in his ear, seeming to come from the very air itself. He spun as far as the vines would let him, but there was nothing there.

  “Who is there? Who spoke?”

  “Can we trust you?”

  He frowned, battling against the thought that he was speaking to his own fragile mind. “Trust goes both ways.”

  A ghostly chuckle had the hair at the back of his head rising. “That is true.”

  The vines that circled his wrists and ankles loosened and fell away back to the sandy ground. They moved back a little, waving gently, as though waiting to see what he did. Being on his arse wasn't the most secure position. He stood, slowly and as non-threateningly as he could. He peered around but still couldn't see anything that would have spoken to him.

  “I'm losing my damn mind, that's what I'm doing.”

  A vine slowly slithered towards him, almost tentatively. Almost - sentiently. He made himself stand his ground, even though all his senses screamed to fight. It wrapped loosely around his ankle, cool against his skin.

  “Would this touch be acceptable?”

  “It's better than damn well being strangled by the fauna
,” he muttered.

  “It is the only way we can communicate with your kind.” The voice appeared to come right from the middle of his brain, rather than in his ear.

  It - they? - had heard him. He stilled. “Where are you?”

  Some of the vines along the far wall trembled before separating and forming a humanoid shape. It drifted towards him on feet made from the frothy leaves he’d found the fruit. Smaller vines connected it to the larger vines along the walls. It was perfectly shaped from a cross-hatching of delicate vines, so perfectly that baby leaves sprouted from one of its cheeks. Pink-tipped leaves formed a hair-like veil that travelled halfway down its back. Its intelligent eyes glowed an illuminated blue. It had a slight, flat nose and a wide, lipless mouth.

  Two arms grew from a thin torso, made thicker with entwined vines and covered by roughened bark. Legs formed from the bodice, yet the knees were more smooth bends than joints. The creature looked as though it could have stepped from the pages of one of Earth's fairy tales. A wood fairy, or a sprite without wings, perfectly adapted to its environment. The creature came to rest on the opposite side of the stream, weaving to and fro as though it was a new-grown spring leaf in a warm breeze.

  He blinked a few times, his mind catching up with his eyes. The creature wasn't camouflaged amongst the vines; the creature was the vines.

  It extended a hand towards him, as a greeting. Tendrils drooped from the ends of three finely tapered fingers. “I am here.” It spoke without moving its mouth.

  “How can I hear you speak?”

  After a few moments, the voice sounded in his head, “We do not talk as you do. We need to touch. To connect. Assimilate our psyche into yours.”

  He didn’t know if he liked that idea or not. He tugged at the vine twirled around his ankle, then stopped. “You need to actually touch me? This vine needs to touch me?”

  The creature inclined its head. “We mean no harm in doing so, but we lack the ability to communicate any other way. Our vocal cords have… changed.”