Shadower (19 page)

Suddenly, he wanted to find out. He wanted both of them in that situation again; a second chance for him to convince Moriah that mating didn't have to be sordid. He thrust his fingers through his hair. Spirit, how had this happened? One moment, he'd been ready to pound out his anger on her. Now, he wanted to show her not all men caused pain.

Warning alerts clamored inside his head. This was not a good idea. After the trauma of losing everyone he loved when he was only six seasons old, he had avoided relationships that even hinted at permanence. It had been an easy enough feat as he'd been passed from household to household, settlement to settlement. Just another set of hands to claw out the survival of a race marked for genocide. Just another mouth to feed in Shielder colonies where there was never enough to eat.

He had finally escaped that indifferent acceptance when he'd gotten his ship from the leaders of one colony, in return for promising to deliver supplies on a regular basis. Now, he had no one to answer to, no one to disrupt his safe, noninvolved existence. He had no need to let himself care about the fate of one troublesome smuggler, no matter how beautiful, no matter how spirited…no matter how unloved.

Don't get involved!
his inner alarm cautioned. But, as he looked at Moriah's closed expression, at the pain mirrored in her golden eyes, he knew he was dangerously close to an emotional black hole. Close to being bombarded with feelings he didn't want to acknowledge. He felt fury at how she had been treated. Empathy for her pain. And, as always when dealing with her, the thrill of a challenge.  But this was a trap, not a challenge, and one he couldn't—wouldn't—risk.

He could, however, show Moriah that not all men were brutes. He could give her the respect and consideration she deserved. He knew better than to ever let her get the upper hand, but he didn't have to be overbearing or militant, either. He took another step forward. "I acted like an Antek. I'm really sorry. I swear I won't ever raise a hand to you again. Let's call a truce, okay?"

She drew a deep breath, the tops of her breasts rising above the torn silk. He sensed her hostility easing, although she wasn't willing to trust him. Not that he blamed her. He offered his hand. "Truce?"

She stared disdainfully at his outstretched hand. "That depends on what you're planning to do next."

Delighted to see some spark returning, he grinned. "I'm going to get us off this star base and headed toward Elysia. Then I'll replicate the evening meal."

Surprise flashed in her eyes. Apparently, she'd expected him to do something else, such as shackle her. But force and intimidation would no longer be key components in handling her.

He was bound and determined to disprove her perception of men—one way or another.

Moriah lay on her bunk, exhausted, but too keyed up to sleep. Images of Pax, intertwined with images of Sabin, swirled through her mind. She again saw the rage on Sabin's face as he came after her in the cockpit, heard the horrifying rip of her rhapha. Why had she ever thought she could handle him? She'd become too self-assured in her independence, too certain she could never fall prey to a man again.

Yet… He had halted his own rampage. He hadn't hit her, hadn't forced himself on her. He'd even apologized, sounding sincere. She shrugged that off. Her father had always been sorry, too. After the liquor wore off and he sobered up, he would be contrite about the bruises he didn't even remember inflicting. Words and promises didn't always depict the true nature of a person.

The shifting of the ship told her they were taking off. Glancing at the chronometer, she wondered why Sabin had waited so long. It had been at least two hours since they had called an uneasy truce in the cockpit. He had even allowed her to make certain Celie was safely aboard Lionia's ship and to give Lionia some instructions. Afterwards, refusing the evening meal, she'd fled to her cabin.

Her stomach growled. She had not eaten since Celie had been arrested. Now she questioned her wisdom at turning down a meal. Hunger was a minor consideration, she told herself. As was brooding over Sabin and his erratic behavior.

Delivering the iridon shipment to the Leors within the promised time frame was far more crucial. Funds for Risa, her group's survival—her own survival—depended upon her completing that transaction. But she had given her word she would accompany Sabin to Elysia, and she had to keep it, if for no other reason than honor and pride.

She turned on her side and saw the ruined rhapha draped over her cabin's single chair. In his rage, He could have done anything he wanted. She'd been trapped in the cockpit with no weapon. She was a skilled fighter, but he had the advantages of greater mass and strength.
Yet he hadn't hurt her.

Heaving a disgusted sigh, she flopped onto her back, draping her arm over her eyes. How easily she'd slipped back into thinking about Sabin when she should have been planning her next course of action. What was it about the man that managed to diffuse her normally single-minded concentration? Perhaps fatigue and hunger were affecting her ability to stay focused. A few hours' rest should sharpen her wits.

She closed her eyes. As she was drifting into an uneasy doze, her panel tone sounded. She bolted up. Pax had never used the chime. He just barged in and took what he wanted. The tone sounded again. "Moriah! Are you all right?" Sabin called out.

She swung herself off the bunk. "What do you want?"

"Permission to enter."

She was too tired to deal with him. "Why don't you go away instead?"

"Not an option. I am coming in. I'm just giving you the courtesy of advance notice. Are you decent?"

As decent as a long-sleeved flightsuit, zipped up to her chin, could make her. "No. Go away."

A low chuckle reverberated on the other side of the entry. "Indecent is good." The panel slid open, and Sabin entered, carrying a tray in one hand and a box in the other. He halted inside the doorway, looking her over.

"What do you want?" she asked again.

He flashed his devilish grin, exuding his usual arrogance. "Manners, manners. I can see I have my work cut out for me. I brought you the evening meal."

He stepped forward, she stepped back. "I'm not hungry," she insisted, just as her stomach rumbled.

Ebony brows rose. "Liar."

"Don't believe everything you hear, Travers," she retorted, irritated that her own body had betrayed her—again.

"I don't. But I already knew you were hungry and tired."

"How in the universe could you know that?"

"You're pale and have circles under your eyes. You looked like that after you stowed away on my ship for four cycles without food."

Janaye, her mentor, had made the same observations on occasion. But she knew Moriah much better than this arrogant man. Sabin was far too perceptive, a fact that made her distinctly uncomfortable.

His eyes never leaving her face, he leaned over and placed the tray on the bunk. "Why don't you sit down and eat?"

She finally looked at the tray. Next to the plate of amargrain and protein sticks sat a stunning scarlet Thermaplant in a crystal planter. The plants were so rare, she had seen them only twice in all her travels. "Where did this come from?" she asked in wonder, reaching down to touch the crystal pot.

"Intrepid's cultural center." Sabin tossed the package onto the bunk. Lifting the plant, he took her hand and curled her fingers around the cool crystal.

She stared at the vivid scarlet leaves. Thermaplants needed not only heat, but also the electromagnetic energy radiating from all living things, to survive. They seemed to thrive best on the energy emitted by humans. "It's beautiful," she murmured.

"It's for you."

Shocked, she tore her attention away from the lovely blooms and stared at him. "You're giving this to me?"

He watched her gravely. "It's yours."

She couldn't comprehend such an action. No one had ever given her a gift. "But—but why?"

"Because I acted like an idiot earlier today, and I want to say I'm sorry." Taking her other hand, he pressed it around the opposite side of the planter. "Do you know how to care for a Thermaplant?"

Gazing at the plant in fascination, she shook her head.

"The vendor who sold it to me said you must wrap your hands around it for several minutes in the morning and several minutes at night, although you can do it as often as you like. Your heat and energy will provide sustenance for the plant. It will reward you with its scent. Let's see if she's right."

Moriah clasped the crystal pot tightly, unable to believe Sabin had given the gift to her, or that he had again apologized. Would she ever understand him? She stood silently, willing her life force into the plant. The crystal pot began to glow, taking on a rosy hue. A moment later, an exquisite fragrance wafted from the plant's velvety leaves. Delighted, she inhaled deeply. She'd never owned anything this special. At a loss for what to say, she raised her eyes to him. "Thank you."

He took a step back, clearing his throat. "No big deal. Now eat."

Unprotesting, she slid onto the bunk. Carefully setting the plant on the tray, she picked up a protein stick. Sabin strode to the chair, eyeing the torn rhapha. He flicked it off and pulled the chair closer to her bunk. Sinking down with a tired sigh, he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's hot in here," he complained. "I need to check the climate controls again." He gestured toward the box he'd tossed onto her bed. "I replaced your rhapha."

She paused, a protein stick halfway to her mouth, ugly suspicions rearing. "Why?"

"I destroyed yours, so I owed you one."

All appetite fled. He'd had ulterior motives for his actions. His kindness was just a front, and should have set off alarms. She stared at the Thermaplant, bitterness pooling in her throat. "Then you're ordering me to wear the rhapha?"

"Wear what you wish." He gestured to the tray. "But I
am
ordering you to eat."

He had her totally confused again. Frustrated, she bit off the end of the protein stick. "Why are we departing so late?" she asked after chewing and swallowing.

"I went to purchase a few things, and then I searched for my ship mechanic. He seems to have left Intrepid rather suddenly."

"Mechanics move around a lot," she pointed out.

Sabin leaned back in the chair. "That's true. Radd probably got a lucrative offer he couldn't refuse. He's the best in the quadrant, so he's in demand."

Radd?
Radd was Sabin's mechanic? The pieces fell into place. That's why Radd had looked so familiar. She'd seen him on Sabin's ship right after she was injured. It seemed pretty ironic that she had kidnapped Sabin's ship mechanic.

"So is he really the best mechanic in the quadrant?" she asked.

"The absolute best. Sure wish I could find him."

It pleased her to know she had kidnapped the right mechanic, at least. She took a bite of amargrain.

Sabin steepled his fingers and stared at them thoughtfully. "As much as I regret my behavior earlier, we still have to get some things straight. I'm still the captain of this ship. You will obey my orders."

They were back to that. She laid down her utensil. "I already gave my word on that,
Captain."

"So you did. But in case you've forgotten, you broke our agreement by trying to injure me."

"I did not. I wasn't trying to hurt you when I tipped your chair over. Just expressing my opinion of your chauvinist demands."

"I'm not talking about the chair, although I still have a knot on the back of my head from that. I'm talking about that damn plug you took out of my leg." He rubbed his thigh with an injured air. "If you'd bitten any higher, I'd probably be talking in a falsetto right now.
That
would be a serious matter."

His light tone surprised her. She had expected him to be furious, to seek retribution. Testing his mood, she retorted, "I wouldn't think of that as a big deal."

"No? Tell you what, sweetheart. There are some women who would disagree with your assessment there."

"Really? Well, Lani might find it a big deal. But what can you expect from a woman who wears blue feathers?"

Laughter flashed in his eyes. He shook his head, smiling. "Lani has nothing to do with this discussion. We're talking about your resistance to authority."

The smile disappeared and he leaned forward, serious. "I
am
the authority on this ship. I must have total compliance. It's only fair to warn you that I've taken some precautions. I've locked in the coordinates to Elysia. They can't be altered without the correct code. I've also contacted my partner, Chase McKnight, and informed him of the situation. I'll be communicating with him several times each cycle. He'll become suspicious if he doesn't hear from me."

So he was going back to the Controller tactics. He might have good reason not to trust her, but anger knotted in Moriah's chest anyway. "What's this, Captain? You feel the need to protect yourself from a mere woman?"

"You're no mere woman. I could keep you in shackles, but I don't want to do that. Especially considering the treatment you've endured from your father and P—"

"I don't want to talk about that," she broke in, her heart racing at the reminder. She hated the compassion she saw in his eyes. She'd far rather deal with his anger than his pity. She pushed away her food. "I'm tired. Please leave now."

Her eyes locked with his, silently defying him to push the issue. "All right," he said, his easy acquiescence another surprise. He seemed full of them tonight. "Just remember what we discussed. I trust there will be no defiance." He rose and started toward the entry, then stumbled and almost fell. He caught his balance, grabbing the panel frame. "That's odd," he muttered.

"What is?"

"Oh, nothing…I'm just clumsy tonight."

Moriah had never known Sabin to be clumsy. He always moved with a lethal, fluid agility. But this entire cycle had been tumultuous, so perhaps he was tired. She certainly was. She'd be glad when her obligation to him was fulfilled and all this was over.