Sex, Love, and Aliens, Volume 2 Read online

  Dria squared her shoulders and inhaled a shuddering breath. “I will not fail.”

  * * * *

  Marcus jerked away from the communications console. “If she’s a warrior, I’ll eat my hat.” The way she’d spoken...

  Closing his eyes against the headache that loomed proved useless in easing his frustrations. In the three days since he’d been apprised of his latest duty, nothing had assuaged his concern.

  His stomach knotted as the memory of her face and the cadence of her voice flooded his mind. Interest tugged at him, and he tried to shove it aside. “Haven’t you learned already?” His demand to himself echoed through the half-empty room, but the lower region of his body stirred.

  He’d been training vigorously with his team since catching this mission, and had just returned to his accommodations. He tugged off his shirt. His nostrils flared as the scent of his sweat rose. Perhaps it was the heat? A shower would help with that.

  Even as the thought rose, he acknowledged the truth. He was trying to avoid thinking about her. Princess—bloody—Dria.

  In the bathroom, he stripped down. “Water on. Regular heat setting.”

  Marcus stepped into the shower cubicle, and the warm liquid slid over his skin. Bracing his hand on the wall, he closed his eyes and bent his head as he massaged the top of his right thigh. The one that ached interminably—ever since he’d been betrayed.

  Memories rose, unbidden, behind his eyelids. Christina, standing framed by the open door, the orange-red of sunset shining on her blonde hair like some ancient Madonna’s halo. His ex-lover.

  “I tried to warn you. I even went so far as to pack, hoping you would return after this was all done.” God, how her final words mocked him. The memory of them searing his brain still, even after all these long months.

  When she turned, he knew the truth. It shone in her eyes. “I never wanted you to get hurt. I just... I needed the information, Marcus. I’m sorry.”

  Even as she strode out the door, and he called to her, the rumble began, the earth bucking beneath him. She’d died in the explosion that had damaged his body.

  “Christ! Women aren’t to be trusted.” The pain might have lessened, but he’d learned the lesson well.

  With a savage twist, he turned. The leg twinged as his abused muscles reminded him of the damage he’d sustained in the blast. A hiss escaped him, and he ordered the water to cease flowing. Leaving the cubicle, he slid the towel around his body and dried himself off.

  Padding naked to his room, he surveyed the soulless area. A duffle bag lay on the bed, half-filled with civilian wear. The black pants and matching jacket lay in a heap beside it, waiting for him to don them. These would be his fatigues for the mission. With a long-suffering sigh he scooped up the clothing and began to dress. He had a job to do, and he’d damn well do it to the best of his ability. The self-admonishment didn’t make him feel any better.

  * * * *

  Marcus gazed over the airfield. The air wavered, hot and close, as the whine grew louder and the thrust from the engines blew dust into the atmosphere as the craft descended.

  The crackle of audio feedback blared suddenly in his ear, and he cringed. “Dammit, who’s playing with the audio?” His roar was washed away by the sound of the approaching shuttle.

  As suddenly as it began, the piercing noise in his ears stopped and the prickle at the back of his neck became a full-blown itch.

  It took every ounce of willpower to not glance around. “Check the perimeter again,” he growled at his team.

  “But sir, we’ve checked it three times already,” the youngest of his team complained.

  “Do it again, Simpson.”

  The sigh that sounded through the headpiece told him of the young man’s disenchantment. “Yes, sir.”

  He’d taken the first gopher available, and he was beginning to question that decision. But he’d been stuck. Simon Arends, his distant cousin and first choice, had taken sick.

  The draft from the approaching shuttle now resembled a hot wind that seared. He remained still, gaze firmly connected to the shuttle that dropped toward the asphalt-covered ground. When it finally landed a hiss and clank resounded.

  Marcus waited for the doors to open, the stairs to be lowered, and the small security detail to disembark.

  A pause in time settled as the internal door opened and a woman with light brown hair stepped through. The pale blue gown undulated like a cloud around her as she moved to the top of the stairs slowly. Gracefully.

  He frowned. Surely this wasn’t the woman he was waiting for?

  Then she turned away and a statuesque vision stepped forward. The gown she wore clung to every part of her body, outlining her many assets, while her hair tumbled in a riot of curls over her shoulders. She glanced around.

  He tugged his gaze away, but felt the aura of power that emanated from her, and he sucked in a breath and glanced to the side. Her guards had taken up formation, and she proceeded down the stairs.

  Marcus grunted with satisfaction before formally acknowledging her.

  She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. The skin of his hand itched to make contact, and he swallowed down the unfamiliar throb of attraction. He stepped forward, ready to greet her as protocol demanded. Sure, tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.

  “Commander Vane?” The huskiness of her voice echoed.

  “Turana Dria?”

  The smile she gifted him with was tight, her lips barely gaining an uptick.

  “We should move. The car’s ready.”

  “Isn’t there supposed to be some kind of publicity?”

  He grimaced. “There was, but I canceled it. No need to give the Incubi a free kick.”

  She inclined her head. “Of course. Let’s go.”

  Stepping aside gave him a whole other perspective. One that included the outline of the globes of her derriere. The blood in his body pulsed hard, as if it were molasses not red liquid in his veins.

  Gritting his teeth, he gestured to the vehicle just as the rumble began. The ground rippled, making his body shudder and sway. Without thought, he shoved her, pushing her to the ground before covering her.

  It seemed to go on forever, the searing heat of the explosion stealing his wits for a microsecond. He glanced around. The car before them was battered but seemingly intact.

  Memories crowded, but he pushed them away. “Get up!” He crawled off the body beneath him, mind whirling. “Numbers three and four form up. I’m evaccing the princess.” The other two cars would serve as a buffer as they left the area.

  The earpiece squawked as one then another voice acknowledged his demand. His stomach roiled, while chunks of metal still rained down.

  Turana Dria pushed up from the ground and carelessly tugged her hair from her eyes. He detected hardness in her gaze and her lips compressed into long, tight lines of white. “Damn them!” The harsh words broke through the crackle of burning metal.

  “They’ll pay. But not now. My priority is to get you out of here.”

  “My entourage?”

  He grabbed her arm and tugged. “Those still alive will receive whatever care they require. Then my team will discuss with you what happens next.”

  The air of unleashed violence retreated as she followed his lead. “We’ll discuss this later.”

  “Of course.”

  She jerked the door open and slid inside.

  Marcus slammed it shut behind her and made his way to the front passenger seat. “Get us to the hotel.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  * * * *

  The room was large and lushly appointed. Not at all what Dria wanted. She’d be happy to be on one of their bases—in the warrior units. Preferably somewhere close to a fully equipped gym and shooting range. Instead, all she could do was pace the hall of the suite and shove furniture out of the way to allow herself room to complete the exercises that cleared her mind.

  Vane warned me that they knew and had laid plans.

  Th
e muscles in her arms ached as she punished her body, straining as she pushed up off the floor again. Fifty push-ups and thirty crunches weren’t nearly enough to allow her to burn off the rage that bubbled in her belly. The shuttle crew had died as had two of the young girls who’d traveled with her. Only the young lady-in-waiting, Verala, and most of the members of her guard had survived. Even so, their injuries were extensive.

  Verala had been thrown some distance, landing heavily on the asphalt. She’d sustained severe injuries to her spine and legs. One hip would require surgical replacement. Three of the guards remained incapacitated. Of those, two would be mede-vacced home at the earliest possible opportunity.

  The rattle of the door stopped her mid-stretch. She dropped, then crouched, her hand instinctively moving for the small pouch at her waist.

  “It’s Marcus Vane, Turana.”

  She exhaled and allowed the tension to seep from her body. “Come in, Commander.”

  Dria stood, aware that she wore only a tight black exercise suit that one of the guards had secured from the downstairs clothing store.

  His gaze raked over her body, and she shivered. “There’s a gym upstairs. If you wish to use it, let me know and I’ll ensure that you remain undisturbed.” The richness of his voice coated her like silk. She shuddered, and he frowned. “Do you need me to turn down the air conditioning?”

  “Uh, no. Sit down, Commander. I’d like to discuss what happened at the airfield this morning.”

  His lips thinned, but he gave a tiny nod. “Of course.”

  Dria lowered herself to a chair and he followed suit.

  “I’ve received intelligence that the Incubi expected you at ten o’clock. The delay in your landing brought you in at the same time they were planning to attack.”

  “What’s the possibility that the delay from air traffic control was caused by some of their operatives?”

  He screwed up his face then sighed heavily. “It’s certainly possible. I have some of my people looking into that right now. I had hoped for you to arrive earlier in the day, but because we didn’t want to tip them off that we’d received...” A shake of his head told her how much this upset him. “In hindsight, you should have landed before dawn like I wanted, then we would have avoided this.”

  She understood the frustration and anger that chewed at him. If they’d arrived earlier, then none of their people would be heading home in lead-lined caskets. “Yes, I understand that. I don’t have any contacts within your traffic control, so can’t assist. Captain Anterrinhem has made available tactical specialists who would like to check the site of the explosion.”

  “Of course. So far we’ve ascertained that the projectile was placed at a refueling station on the western border of the landing field. Outside the secure zone.”

  “Oh. Yes, I see the difficulty. They must have figured out that the field was secure.” She bit her lip, realizing how stupid her comment sounded as soon as she closed her mouth. Of course Vane would have realized that.

  He smiled, a little lopsided, and her heart skipped a beat. “I’d say.”

  “Well then, I’ll get in touch with the captain and have him organize a security team to inspect the site.”

  “You’re not quite what I expected.” His face flushed a dull red, and he glanced away.

  She knew that the words had slipped out, but couldn’t control her smile. “I hope that’s a compliment?”

  “Uh, yeah. Absolutely.” He pushed away from the chair with a jerk. “Look, I’m planning on a training session tomorrow morning, after you’ve had time to...” He waved his hands in the air.

  “I’d like that. Say seven o’clock?”

  “Good.” He headed to the door. “I’m placing men at the door.”

  “I’ll stay here. Not make contact with anyone on anything other than the secured line. I’m going to read through the reports you have made available then try and get some rest.”

  Once he left and the door clicked shut behind him, she scooped up the thick file on the table. The briefing notes had been joined by the hastily prepared reports from her own people and Marcus Vane.

  * * * *

  “Commander, you flatter me.” A soft hand fastened on his thigh, resting gently without rubbing or inching upward. The inference in her touch was clear, but unlike most women, she didn’t need to be overt in her invitation. His body tightened and he gulped. His mind spun madly as wisps of excitement skittered along nerve endings.

  “I’m not... I don’t want to get involved with someone I’m working with.”

  “Commander... Marcus. I’m not looking for involvement. Maybe we could spend some time together? Get to know each other...better.”

  “It’s not right...”

  She smiled and leaned in.

  Bleep! Bleep! He waved his hand, looking for the alarm button that interrupted this delightful tete-a-tete with the princess. Then he realized it wasn’t the bedside alarm he’d programmed for the morning. It was the strident wail of the alarm he’d fastened to the princess’s door. His hand slid beneath his pillow even as he sat up in bed.

  The princess. The Incubi. “God damn!”

  He moved quickly, feet silent as he reached for the door and wrenched it open, pistol in hand. The hallway was empty, but that didn’t mean the coast was clear.

  He slid along the wall, his eyes scanning back and forth. Where are my people?

  His mouth thinned as he rounded the corner, his gaze settling on the two men at her doorway, slumped to the floor.

  A thud and the sound of a thwack resounded and he pounced, punching through the partially open door. “Turana Dria?”

  Panting, quick and heavy, filled the air and the outline of someone dressed in black loomed in the doorway. He tensed, unsure of what to expect, but before he could speak he heard her sultry voice.

  “Commander Vane? The coast is clear.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re subdued, Commander.” She reached for a light switch and a glow flared. He glanced around and noted two bodies on the floor, hands behind their backs and fastened with some kind of metallic binding.

  “Jesus!” The words escaped on a breath. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know what happened to the guards outside the door, but a noise woke me. I’m a light sleeper after all my years of training, so when I heard something unexpected, I responded. The lights were off, but I was able to get behind the door before they entered my chamber.” She grinned. “This was the first thing that came to hand.” She held up a lamp, the cord still dangling on the floor. “The first one was simple. A quick blow to the head knocked him out, but before I get around him, the other was there.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

  Marcus strode closer, noting the sheen of red liquid that snaked along her arm. “You’re hurt?”

  “Not anything life-threatening. He got a swing with his needle at me before I could avoid him. He scraped me, but I managed to evade whatever was in the syringe.”

  “Syringe?” He bent and looked at the man. Nothing was in his hand.

  “It’s still on the floor in the bedroom.”

  A strange sensation filled him, like the congealing of his innards. “They were after you, Turana. This location is no longer secure.”

  “I would agree, but what do you recommend then?”

  “We go to the base. It’s secure.”

  The princess cocked her head. “If you think that’s best.”

  “I do.”

  “All right then. You’ll want the syringe too?” She cocked her head as if sizing him up.

  “Yes. I’d like to know what they were going to inject you with. Grab it and whatever you need for the next few days, then we’ll get out of here.”

  She turned and hurried away from him.

  He slid his fingers into his pocket, took out his phone, and made the call to have the prisoners locked away securely. At least until they could be interrogated, then whatever happened to them was in the hands of
the courts.

  Chapter 2

  The bed was hard. Narrow. It reminded Dria of home.

  She rolled onto her side wondering, not for the first time, why then she couldn’t settle into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Two things rattled around in her mind. The first was the situation with the Incubi. They’d obviously decided she was the weak link, and that was exactly what they wanted to achieve. She would use that, and they’d be lulled into a false sense of security.

  That brought her to the second and most puzzling problem of all. “Marcus Vane.” She whispered his name into the darkness and a frisson of recognition flooded her.

  A thrum started between her legs at the thought of him.

  “Why? Why him and why now?” She dragged the pillow up and enfolded it in a hard hug against her chest.

  Never before had she experienced this flush of interest in a man. Of course she’d enjoyed the odd sexual encounter over the years, but never did her body tingle madly at the thought of a man.

  Maybe it was her human side. Those who were born of pure Ba’Tua families were still repressed to the point of asexuality, but the hybrids born of Ba’Tuan and human relations were more open to the advantages of touch and intimacy.

  She rolled again, the bed squeaking as she shifted her weight.

  She couldn’t say what alerted her, but she turned, instantly aware. It took a second for her eyes to become accustomed to the low light, the gloom punctuated by the light from the computer. Still, it was enough that she could see the doorknob turn soundlessly. Dria rose, mentally preparing herself for battle as she make her way in that direction.

  The door opened...

  Marcus Vane strode inside, and her breath caught.

  “What are you doing in here?” She couldn’t control the squeak.

  He closed the door behind him. “I came to tell you they’re using a sedative called midazolam. It’s a fast-acting drug that works within minutes.” He scrubbed his hand over his face before advancing into the room.

  He thrust his hands in his pockets, and she got the impression he was as uncomfortable with their close proximity as she was. She would swear that all the oxygen in the room had evaporated, and her heart beat rapidly in her chest. “Oh. That’s not really a pleasant thing, is it?” She bit her lip.