Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) (17 page)

“I am your baron, Anya. And your
protector. I will protect you until the day I die.”

“No!” She arched her back, trying
to roll him off. “
No.
No!”

He remained as steady as a rock.
She couldn’t budge him. “You’re a beast! An animal,” she told him. “Only savages
treat women like this.”

A smile ghosted his lips. “I told
you I was a barbarian. It’s how I was raised. Sometimes my base instincts rule.”

“Get off.”

“No.” His eyes gleamed.

“You like this,” she accused. She
struggled again, but with less fervor.

His lids lowered. “Stop.”

And then she understood why. Her
whole body flushed, and she went still. “Joshua.” Her heart thundered into a gallop.
Long seconds ticked by.

Infinitesimally, and completely
involuntarily, she pressed closer to him.

“Anya,” he murmured. His gaze
smoldered fire, and slowly it drifted, as soft as a caress, from her lips to
her throat.

She arched her neck. “Yes,” she
whispered. It was a plea and a prayer.

He muttered a soft word, and leashed
emotion pulled his features taut. With agonizing slowness, his head lowered and
his warm lips buried gently in the hollow of her throat.

She gasped with the pure, wondrous
pleasure of it. “Yes, Joshua,” she whispered again. “Please.”

He drew a shuddering breath, and
his soft, lingering kisses burned a molten trail up her neck. His breaths felt
like heavy, sultry fire against her skin. Just when she thought he would kiss
her lips, he kissed the tender place at the base of her jaw and then traced warm,
feather kisses back down her throat. He nudged aside her parka and snow wear
and buried his lips in the sensitive place between her collarbone and shoulder.
Breaths coming faster, she again involuntarily arched against him, seeking more
of his body against hers. Blindly wanting all of him, now and forever.

His warm mouth abandoned her
shoulder, but his breaths still seared her skin.

“Anya.” The word sounded
anguished. “You’re so beautiful.” He lifted his head, and his eyes were black
with torment, need…and self-condemnation.

 “
No.
Don’t look at me like
that.” With no difficulty now, she pulled her wrists free and cupped his face
in her palms. She stroked his bristly beard and rose to kiss him, full on the
mouth. At first he devoured her kiss hungrily, like it was a balm to his soul,
and then his tongue slid past her defenses and possessed her mouth. His slow,
savagely gentle strokes pooled heat low in her body. He kissed her until she
was mindless, drugged with love and feverish with longing. When he pulled away,
she wasn’t sure what he meant to do. Her mind still felt fuzzy from the bliss
of finally holding the man she loved in her arms.

He was halfway to the door when
she realized his intent. “Joshua!”

“Stay here,” he said hoarsely. “For
me.” And then he was gone. The lock tumbled into place.

Anya put her hands to her face and
cried out in torment.

*  *  *  *  *

Shaking, Joshua stood very still
outside the locked door. His hand clenched the doorknob.

Abruptly, he strode down the hall,
heading for the elevator. Once inside, he punched in the code to ZCA and leaned
against the wall. He closed his eyes, battling to control his emotions. Anya’s
soft, urgent pleas for him to kiss her had undone him. For long, disorienting
minutes, he had lost all grip on space and time. Overwhelmed by his relentlessly
suppressed, fierce need to make her his own, he had nearly forgotten his
mission.

Summoning the strength of will to
leave her had taken superhuman effort, because for the first time in his life
he had glimpsed, in Anya’s arms, what love could be. He wanted her with a need
that bordered on desperation. Only protecting her, and freeing his territory,
meant more to him than satisfying that desire.

The doors slid open.

“Been waiting for you.” Michael
thrust a vest into his arms and walked fast for the door to the airbay. “The
ship is ready.” He cast Joshua a penetrating look. “Are you?”

Joshua zipped the vest, then
pulled his parka over it. “Yes. ZCA channel?”

“Open. Use housekeeping, though,
until it’s compromised.”

Joshua nodded, striding fast
across the airbay to the hive of hovering black airbirds, all awaiting his
arrival. He hit the door release button of the lead craft, then looked at his
brother. “Take care of her, Michael.” If he didn’t return. It didn’t need to be
said. They both knew he would probably be dead within the hour.

“Take this for back up.” Michael
shoved a small plastic capsule in his hand. “In case you’re in a bind.” He
smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t bite too soon.”

Joshua’s fist curled around the
object, and then shoved it into his pocket. A smile ghosted his lips. “You and
your technological wonders.” For a second, he eyed his brother, and then
reached out and gripped his shoulder. “I’m proud of you, and everything you’ve
become. You’re a good man.”

In response, Michael gripped
Joshua’s shoulder, too. “You’ll make it. Our father couldn’t kill you. Neither
will Onred. You’ll come back and take care of Anya yourself.”

Joshua allowed himself to smile,
although in his gut, he didn’t believe it. He released his brother and swung
into the aircraft. A touch to a button, and the door slid shut. Another few
strokes across the control panel, and his bird shot for the black mouth of the
tunnel.

*  *  *  *  *

Anya lay on the bed for a full
minute after Joshua left, weeping with fury. He had tricked her. How much of
his lovemaking had been real? How much had been manipulation?

She had
begged
him to touch
and kiss her. Anya closed her eyes in utter mortification. How pathetically
weak and eager she had been for his caresses. And how swiftly Joshua had taken
full advantage.

She hated him. Yes, she did. And
she despised herself.

Fed up with self-pity, propelled
by anger, she rolled off the bed and attacked the door, shaking the knob
viciously. Locked, of course.

He had left her. He had locked her
in Michael’s bedroom! Anya let out an animal sound of fury and searched the
room for a weapon she could wield against the door. A key would work best.
Otherwise, she’d have to break it down.

One part of her mind realized that
Joshua must be back in ZCA by now. She didn’t have much time if she wanted to
catch up with him.

Anya rummaged through the drawers
in the dresser beside the bed. They were empty. So, this wasn’t Michael’s bedroom.
It must be the guest room. She shoved open the closet, but found nothing but
hangars. The thick wire wouldn’t fit in the old fashioned keyhole.

She surveyed the room. It was
bare, except for the bed, dresser, and a picture on the wall. In two strides,
she plucked it off. A thin wire on the back balanced it on the nail. She
smiled. Here was the advantage of being locked in a half-primitive society.
Pictures in Astana were hung with plastic suction tags.

Impatiently, she twisted and
pulled at the metal filament. The wire poked into her fingers, pricking up a
bubble of blood, but she freed the wire from the picture and inserted it into
the pinhole lock. The keen awareness of time slipping by inspired quick, urgent
jabs into the keyhole.

She checked her stopwatch. Fifty
minutes left until Onred bombed Omsk. Right now, Joshua must be preparing to
fly.

She jabbed the lock again and
again. Dead, metallic clicks resulted.

Joshua couldn’t leave without her.
He just couldn’t. He needed her. So did Donetsk Territory, and her brothers and
sisters.

Anya took a breath and slowed
down. Delicately, she probed the lock. She had to escape right now. She
had
to. Joshua couldn’t go without her. Much as she was furious with him at the
moment, the persistent, deep certainty that he was flying to his death lodged
like an unmanageable boulder in the pit of her stomach. Tears of frustration hovered.
“Please God,” she whispered. “Help me. Protect him.”

Anya picked again and again at the
lock, but it refused to release. She glanced at her watch.

Forty minutes left.

Joshua was long gone. She had
failed.

A helpless moan escaped, and she
squeezed her arms around her middle. She felt sick. He was gone. Forever.

“
No.
” With a gasp, Anya
lunged across the room. She yanked out a drawer and then spun and swung it with
all her strength at the door handle. “No,” she panted, and struck it again and
again. “No, no,
no!
”

*  *  *  *  *

Joshua broke Mach 1 all the way to
the remains of Astana. Twelve of his fighter birds peeled off seconds after
swarming up from the western end of the Tien Shan, heading for the decoy destination.
It had taken two minutes to fly out of ZCA’s fifteen kilometer tunnel, which
was designed to protect ZCA’s location. Satellites had probably picked up the
exiting aircraft, but hidden, well-armed sentries guarded the secret exit.

For now, it didn’t matter. Joshua
shot a glance at his black wristwatch. Five minutes until Omsk blew. His radar
screen picked up twenty of Onred’s airbirds hovering on the southern edge of
Astana. A few others slyly slipped in lazy patterns to the north. A few scooted
east and west. He spoke into his transmitter, which was programmed into the
housekeeping network. “Red team, time to play.”

Six birds broke free from the pack
to play chicken with Onred’s fey forces.

On the ground, far ahead, all of
Onred’s birds looked the same size. No warships were in sight. A few men stood
on the moonlit snow pack, waiting. Joshua’s fingertips slid digital pictures of
Onred and his favorite bird into the craft’s recognition system. He muttered, “Find
Onred.” His computer screen zoomed in on the enemy, enlarging the pinpoints to
full figures.

Three minutes now. One until he
touched down.

Joshua’s bird screamed in at Mach
1, cutting the frosty air so fast that muted thunder signaled his arrival.
Unease registered on several enemy faces.

“Onred not found,” the polite
female computer voice stated. “His ship cannot be located.”

Joshua’s quick scan had net the
same conclusion. He had, however, spotted Onred’s second-in-command, Belar, on
the ground. “The nest is empty,” he reported into his microphone. “But the crow
is hungry.” Time for plan B.

He braked a hundred meters distant
from the hovering enemy airbirds. With slow deliberation, Joshua pulled on his
gloves and stuck the capsule into the secure pocket between gum and cheek. He
shot a glance skyward. “If ever I needed help, it’s now, God.”

Hood down, he slid open the door
and jumped lightly onto the moonlit snow pack. Arctic wind ruffled his hair. He
tapped his transmitter to open broadcast.

His fighters kept to the air, but
the comforting lights of two birds flanked Joshua as he left the safety of his
aircraft. He faced the hovering pack of enemy craft. The black and silver,
twisted steel of Astana rose behind them, a silent graveyard of death.

Joshua set his jaw, dismissing his
emotions, and advanced at a controlled pace toward the five waiting men.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It took
five
precious minutes for Anya to beat the doorknob
crooked. It took another five to figure out how to release the bolt.

Thirty minutes remained. She would
never catch up with Joshua now. But she could still be useful. If only she
could figure out where he meant to lure Onred, perhaps she could reach that
location before Onred’s bird arrived—with Joshua probably inside it. If he
would ever need her, it would be then.

Anya sprinted into Michael’s
living area and searched for a communication device. Surely it would be logged
into ZCA’s communications system. She swiftly scanned all surfaces. Finding
nothing, she pawed through drawers, leaving behind a scrambled, disordered
mess. She forced herself to slow down.
Think, Anya.

Surely Michael had a back up phone
somewhere. If he was sleeping, he’d want double warning in case of an emergency.

His bedroom! Anya sprinted back down
the hall. The first door she opened made her pause. It was filled with
technological equipment, most dismantled—or was it in the process of being
created?  In any case, she didn’t have time to do more than give it a cursory
glance. No phone. She darted to the next room and skidded to a halt before Michael’s
dresser. A small black phone rested in a cradle.

Yes.
She scooped it up and swiftly
scanned the networks. The phone was logged into Alpha channel. She tapped open
a small window for this blank channel. Michael’s phone wasn’t programmed for
the housekeeping network, but she had paid careful attention when Slovic had
first redirected her computer’s system in the airbay, and with only a few
missteps, replicated his procedure. Two channels materialized, and below them,
the closed ZCA channel.