Legend Beyond The Stars Read online

  Her spirits lifted.

  Several litres of water chugged down her throat relieved most of her dehydration headache. Her energy resurfaced. She decided to check on the trader. Anything to keep her mind busy and focussed away from one pissed off warlord.

  As she wandered through the empty ship, Alana was once again struck with the curious humming noise it made. Trailing her fingers along the wall, she noticed how it flexed and moved with the slightest indentation of her touch.

  Surely it couldn’t be alive? She made a mental note to query Norman when she was back on the Ark.

  She frowned as she approached the medic room. That is, if he and the other women who had helped her were not incarcerated in some cell.

  The trader reclined on the central examination table. He had raised his head when he heard the door opening but upon recognising Alana, he emitted a relieved sigh and resumed his resting position.

  Alana walked over and saw he now wore a translator collar. Good, no communication problem. “How do you feel? Is there anything I can get you?”

  “No. The Darkon warlord gave me a pain blocker,” the trader whispered.

  Alana wondered why she was surprised. As soon as she thought she had the Commander pegged, he turned around and did something which baffled her. Look at how he had carried the trader in his arms all this way to the ships. He could have left him to die. And why the devil did her thoughts keep returning to him?

  She smiled in a friendly fashion at the wounded alien. “Perhaps some water?” Did his species drink water?

  “Water would be good,” he admitted.

  Glad to be useful, Alana crossed to a storage cupboard and poured water into a metal container. She propped the raider up by placing an arm around him and guided the cup to his mouth.

  “This is good.” He sighed when finished. He lowered his head with obvious relief.

  After tossing the cup into the cupboard, she secured the door. Turning back to the trader, she found his eye fixed on her.

  “You are from the planet called Earth. Yes?”

  Her breath faltered and she bounded across the room, her stomach tight with tension. “Do you know its coordinates? Have you been there?”

  “Not I.”

  Her disappointment with his response corroded her spirits as effectively as acid rain. She shoved her hands into her pockets and stepped away, intending to leave when the trader spoke again.

  “You saved my life.”

  Heat stained her cheeks but she continued to hold his gaze. “Not really. Commander Tarak was the one who carried you to the ships.”

  “Perhaps. What will become of me?”

  “I imagine as soon as you are well enough, you will be free to leave.”

  The trader snorted. “This will be so, once you have asked it off the Darkon warlord.”

  Annoyed, Alana rocked back onto her heels and glared at him. “I’m sure he’ll release you without any recourse to me.”

  “Perhaps,” the trader repeated. He rummaged about his flight suit and withdrew a small cube which he held out to her. “Take this as my gratitude.”

  She examined it while she turned it over and over in her hands. “What is it?”

  “A data block. It holds gateway maps.”

  Excitement bubbled as her hope re-emerged. She remembered Norman mentioning travellers used gateway maps to traverse the long reaches of space and she rather thought she recalled a mention of black holes too. As soon as she returned to the Ark, she would get Norman to examine it. She tightened her hold over the precious cube.

  “Gateway maps,” Alana whispered.

  ”Guard it well,” the trader said as he watched her reaction. “Use it only when you have the greatest need.”

  She beamed. “I will. Thank you.”

  He nodded, and closed his eye. “Now go. I will rest.” He waved a hand in dismissal.

  Amused at his regal bearing, Alana muttered a farewell and stashed the data block into one of her pockets. She wandered back to the holding area to await Tarak’s return. She retrieved her boots and after looking at their dubious condition, decided to remain in her socks.

  Not long after, she heard locks being disengaged and a noisy commotion at the door. She tossed the boots into the corner and braced her shoulders. Here we go.

  Commander Tarak stalked through the door followed by a troop of his warriors. By the amount of back slapping and noisy irreverent comments being made, Alana deduced their mission had been successful. Relieved, she rolled her eyes at this universal display of manly bonding.

  Her gaze met Tarak’s across the room. He had removed his protective helmet and stood legs braced apart, arms slightly bent. The coldness of his gaze pierced her heart. Her breath caught in her throat at the ferocity of his glare.

  So, he was still furious with her. She swallowed and noticed how his hands were clenched into tight fists.

  Tarak brushed past her, his lips clamped into one grim line, heading for the flight deck. Heat burned her face. She stomped after him and placed a hand on his arm which he shook off as if she had placed a live snake down his pants. He whirled so fast to face her she had to take a quick step back or cannon into him.

  Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed his men perform a quick shuffle to their posts. She stifled a half smile at the sight of such battle hardened warriors so obviously intimidated by their leader.

  Well, he might be their commander but sure as hell wasn’t hers! Perversely she decided to add more fuel to the fire.

  She arched a brow and met his cold stare with studied nonchalance. “If you could arrange for the flyer to be refuelled, I will fly it back to the Ark.”

  The shocked look on some of the warriors’ faces was balm to her wounded feelings but this vanished like smoke in the westerly wind when the Commander leaned closer until their noses almost touched. Mesmerised, she stared at the specks of Baltic amber which flecked his raven eyes as his glare bored holes into hers. He raised his fist and jabbed the air with one blunt hard finger.

  But she was not afraid, she realised. With every fibre of her being, she knew he would never physically hurt her.

  “My flyer. My Ark. My slave,” he stated slowly, his voice colder than an Arctic wind in winter.

  Chill spread over her skin.

  He stabbed at the air once more. “And you, my slave. You will sit down, strap yourself in and remain there until I give you leave to move.”

  Alana blinked back scalding tears and glared at him. Insufferable oaf. She opened her mouth to make a scathing comment when the words withered on her tongue, as he placed a finger on her lips.

  Leaning closer still, until his breath stirred the tendrils of her hair, his voice rumbled into her ear and she gulped. “Be very careful, Alana. You will not enjoy the consequences, should you continue to disobey me.”

  Positive her face was as red as a field of poppies, she walked with as much dignity as she could muster to a seat, secured the harness, aware of his narrowed eyes watching her every move. As soon as she was strapped in, he spun round and left the room.

  Alana scowled. She didn’t know if she was furious or mortified—or worse hurt. Her thoughts and warring emotions churned like a demented washing machine. The return flight to the Ark passed unnoticed and it wasn’t until the warriors beside her released their restraints that she realised they had arrived. She fumbled with her harness and sat slumped against the hard metal chair and waited. What had happened to her friends? Would they be punished? And if so, how? She wished she could summon up the energy to engage in another battle of wills with Tarak, but she was just too tired.

  That’s all it was, just plain tiredness. She dammed the misery which lapped like quicksand at the edges of her mind. God, what a pisser of a day.

  The hatch opened and the Tarak strode through.

  Immediately she straightened, shoulders back, chin up even while her heart plummeted to the tip of her sock-covered toes, at the sight of his stern visage. She had done what
she believed was the right thing to do. She still believed it.

  If Captain Planet here had allowed her to accompany him, she would not have resorted to underhanded tactics.

  Her fingers drummed for a second on the metal armrest. Damn him, this was not all her fault!

  Lips compressed, she jumped to her feet. She snapped out a jaunty salute and smirked.

  He grabbed her arm and hauled her towards the door, ignoring her spluttered words of outrage. Through the outer door of the fighter, over the landing platform and across the runways he stalked, hustling her along so fast, she jogged at his side to keep up.

  Warriors took one look at his face and scattered like leaves in a cyclone as he swept past.

  Ahead his second-in-command waited beside the blast doors. Someone else who was annoyed with her, decided Alana as she encountered Magar’s sour glance.

  No doubt here to report more of her wrong-doings.

  The First Officer snapped to attention and crossed his arm over his armoured chest in salute.

  Before he could speak however, the Commander cut in, “Remove the Ark from this vicinity immediately. There is a trader who requires medic assistance. Attend to it.” Tarak’s voice grated along her nerve ends as if rats scratched their sharp claws into ice. “And Magar, ensure I am not disturbed.”

  He pushed Alana into a nearby chute. She squeezed her eyes shut as they hurtled to another level. Never will I get used to these things!

  The Commander gripped her arm again and pulled her out, along another corridor. Was he going to imprison her in some small, dank cell? Unease beat a rapid tattoo in her throat.

  “What are you going to do with the others?” She could have kicked herself when she heard the note of entreaty in her voice. His face was etched with a grim, implacable determination which caused her stomach to fall away into nothing. When he remained silent, she almost wailed, “It was all my idea. I take full responsibility. Everyone was only acting under my orders. Even Norman … oomph.”

  Her words were smothered as he ground his mouth against her lips. He thrust her roughly against the wall, the hard sharp planes of his armour pressed into her body. Bracing his strong, muscled legs either side of her, he trapped her within his space, pinning her.

  Dimly she heard a door close shut behind them and guessed they were in his sleeping quarters. She gripped his upper arms for purchase. He probed the edges of her quivering lips with his tongue demanding entrance, continued to ravage her mouth. His touch swept over her body, he squeezed and plumped her breasts. She tried to wriggle away, to turn her head but his warning growl stopped her movements. Her bones melted in the burgeoning heat of her response as it raged through her veins with the conflagration of a bushfire blazing down a hillside. Her blood pulsed in her ears in tune with the heavy thudding of her heart.

  He raised his head to suck and lick his way along her jaw line, down her neck then fastened greedily on her nipples, pointed peaks beneath her thin clothes. His mouth so hot and wet. Alana drew in deep shuddering breaths.

  “Stop. Please. No, don’t stop!” Her whole body shook with need and she whimpered as he suckled harder and harder.

  “I have no intention of stopping, my Alana.” He growled against her breasts and returned to her swollen lips. He pushed his tongue inside, demanding and receiving her compliance.

  Through a red haze of heat she was aware he unzipped her pants, pushed the material down past her thighs with an aggressive movement. Alana freed one leg from her pants. Then he rubbed her mons through her underpants, the pad of his thumb rough and demanding and her knees buckled. He wrenched the scrap of cotton aside.

  Alana gasped when he gripped her hips and held her in place then thrust his cock hungrily into her soft heat, taking possession. She heard nothing, could feel nothing but the pulsing of her blood, the heat enveloping her, the urgency of his mouth as he pounded into her over and over. Deeper and deeper. Her climax beckoned. She strained her body against his, meeting his thrusts with equal urgency.

  When he withdrew, Alana whimpered in protest. She wriggled and squirmed then swept her hands over the hard planes of his stomach, seeking his cock but he brushed her touch aside.

  He gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her flesh and spun her round until she faced the wall. She turned a questioning face towards him pushing against the wall with her palms but he grasped her wrists with one hand, held them over her head. He slid his hand across her stomach and jerked her backside towards him, hoisting her high until she dangled held upright only by the strength of his arm. His grip left her hands to angle her lower body towards him.

  Realising his intent, she attempted to evade him. To no avail. He plunged his rigid cock into her moist tunnel. Excitement, the thrill of domination and pleasure shivered through her body as he drove into her.

  With the explosion of her release as forceful as the detonation of a bomb and the strength in her limbs obliterated, she hung dependent on his strength to keep her upright.

  Triumphantly he rammed into her again and again until he roared with satisfaction. Alana thought his hot seed spurted against her very womb.

  He slid his fingers arrogantly over her mons and massaged the wetness over her swollen sex. The touch of his skin against her sensitive flesh sent fresh quivers rippling across her stomach. Her nipples pebbled into tight buds. He released her wrists to glide his fingers over her body, over her stomach, her ribcage, her breasts, trailing heat and need in its wake. Every firm touch an arrogant declaration of possession. He gripped her shoulders and turned her around. She kept her eyes closed, her head lowered while she struggled to regain composure. There was no way she wanted him to see the vulnerability in her eyes. No one had ever done such things to her before.

  And damn, if she hadn’t relished every moment of it.

  Tarak slipped a hand under the tendrils of her damp hair and tugged. When she remained obdurate, he nudged her chin and tipped her head back.

  ”Look at me,” he ordered in harsh tones.

  Alana’s battered heart pinched as she met the cold depths in his eyes. His face remained forbidding and grim. The suspicion that his actions were his way of delivering punishment had her mouth trembling with the desolation seeping into her cooling body.

  “You will obey me, slave”.

  His kiss, again dominant and assured, claimed her. He hardened and moved with eager impatience against her. Her grip closed over his rock-hard muscles, as he lifted her easily in his arms. He carried her across the room and placed her on his bed. With his black gaze never leaving her face, he quickly removed his armour, boots, everything until he stood legs braced, confident in his nakedness.

  “Remove your clothes,” he ordered and stood watching, hands clenched as she fumbled and fought her way free.

  Furious with her weakness, her chin angled high she flung the last garment onto the floor. He watched its progress as it fluttered to the ground then transferred his gaze to her, dark brows raised, face impassive, the flickering embers of flame in his obsidian eyes glowing bright. “It appears you need to be reminded who is in charge. You should know there can be only one Commander.”

  “Commander, yes, dictator, no.” Her heart clenched. So it was punishment.

  “I will have you safe.”

  Alana glared at him. “I’m a soldier, I don’t do safe.”

  ”You will now.” He joined her on the bed and splayed his rough hand over her shaking stomach, his eyes narrowed on her face. He loomed over her. “We will begin again,” he murmured huskily against her lips.

  This time every touch, every movement he made was so exquisitely tender, it shook the very foundations of her soul. Later, her thoughts chaotic, her body sated to the point of exhaustion, she dropped into a deep, fathomless sleep where she dreamt he nuzzled her bare breasts and whispered, “Never will you leave me.”

  Tarak sprawled in a command chair in the Central Control Centre and gazed blankly at the ceiling. He recalled with vivid clarity the
feel of his Alana’s body, the scent of her skin, the depth of her response and many other things which caused a variety of urgent impulses to rack his body, when his second-in-command strode through the door. Even though he heard the sound of footsteps come closer, Tarak did not move.

  “I assume you would like a full report. That is, if you are still capable of rational thought after your, err meeting shall we say, with Alana?”

  Tarak snorted. “I am a Darkon warrior am I not? A mere female is not sufficient to disrupt my thoughts.”

  Magar sucked air in through his nostrils noisily and waited for his leader to look at him. “And I am the son of Cercis.”

  Annoyed, Tarak swung his booted feet off the table. He planted them on the floor and glared at his friend. “What exactly are you saying?”

  ”I speak of what you already know.”

  Tarak struck the table with his clenched fist.

  “She is a worthy mate,” Magar ventured with caution. “I admire her.”

  Tarak shot to his feet and stalked across the room.

  Magar laughed and backed away. He held up his hands in surrender. “See? Relax, Tarak, I do not admire her in such a way. I would not dare.”

  Tarak searched his friend’s amused countenance, then slapped Magar’s back and slumped back into the chair. After waving his friend towards another seat, he fingered his jaw. He growled, “She must obey me. She is naught but a slave.”

  Magar rolled his eyes starward. “She is not like any slave I have ever seen.”

  Tarak drummed his fingers on the table and glowered.

  “Very well,” Magar said in agreeable tones. “You may call her your slave if you wish. I and the others will call her your mate. Perhaps if you were more reasonable with your requests, she would obey you.”

  “Requests?” said Tarak. He beat the table once more and heard his friend sigh. “I will make no requests to her, only orders. She will obey them.”

  His First Officer crossed his arms over his bare chest, tipped back his chair and eyed the ceiling. “They are very different to our women, these females. They are strong and independent. Where they come from, they perform responsible work and are respected for their abilities. Obviously they make many decisions with little or no recourse to their men. Perhaps we will need to make allowances for these aspects of their characters to ensure they will assimilate into our society.”