stroked her slender shoulder. He’d sworn to protect her, and he’d do it.
Lordsvengeance would have to go through him to get to his submissive. And if the fucker tried, he’d find out exactly what a vampire was capable of.
It wouldn’t be a lesson the colonel would enjoy.
* * *
Zara woke some hours later to the smell of meat and spices. She sat up on her elbows on the bunk to see Rand, fully dressed in light G.A.E. armor, arranging a pair of steaming trays, utensils, and drinks on the small table. “Something smells good.”
“I made a run to the mess tent,” he explained, as she took another appreciative sniff. “I figured being stared at by a tent full of horny, resentful assholes wouldn’t be particularly good for your digestion.”
“You figured right.” She rolled out of the bed, picked up her uni, and got dressed before taking a seat at the table. She removed the tray’s lid, releasing a wave of steam fragrant with the scent of roasted meat and spices. “Mmm.” Zara picked up a fork and dug in, quickly discovering that it was every bit as delicious as it smelled.
For a moment there was silence as they started making short work of the food. Rand ate every bit as heartily as she did. Godssonists superstition notwithstanding, vamps ate food and had no more problem with sunlight than ordinary humans.
Once her stomach was comfortably full, Zara headed for the curtained alcove and used one of the cleansing sheets to bathe the dried sweat of combat and passion from her skin.
Emerging, she bent over the duffle she’d packed with her clothes and gear. She could feel Rand watching her lazily from where he sprawled on the bunk, his armored ankles crossed.
As she dressed in a clean uniform -- one that actually fit -- Zara asked, “What are your plans for the day? I mean what do you want me to do?” Looking over at him, lounging there looking big and handsome in his black armor suddenly brought home to her what an uncomfortable position she was in.
He might be her lover, but he was also an enemy officer.
What the hell am I doing ?
As a lieutenant in the Falaran army, it was her duty to escape -- even to kill him.
And yet even if she did such a thing, what the hell would she do next? She was in the middle of a G.A.E. camp. Even if she succeeded in killing Rand, she was unlikely to make it to freedom.
But Rand, who’d protected her from his own murderous men, would still be dead -- a victim of his own generosity.
Assuming she succeeded. A V.S.S. might be strong, but Rand still had at least double her strength. Probably more. She didn’t have a prayer against him.
None of which changed the fact that he was the enemy, and Zara still had a duty to escape.
* * *
His table chimed. Zara looked around in time to see a familiar face form above the tabletop. “Good morning, darling.”
Zara had heard the voice in hundreds of newstreams: Adela Rand. She gaped. Darling? Adela Rand is calling… Oh. Rand.
“Hi, mom,” Rand said cheerfully. “Made any gossip streams lately?”
One of the galaxy’s richest women gave him an urchin grin. “Oh, you how it is. I can’t scratch my ass without winding up on the ‘stream.” She looked him over with what Zara thought was a trace of anxiety. “I see you’re still in one piece.”
“So far.” He rolled off the bunk, walked to the table and dropped into a chair so he could study his mother’s image.
Zara fidgeted, more than a little uncomfortable. “Do you want me to step outside, give you two a little privacy?”
“God, no. Somebody’d probably shoot you -- while ‘trying to escape.’” He gestured quotes in the air, then snorted sardonically. “Might even be true.”
Adela studied her so closely, Zara wondered if she had spinach clinging to her teeth. “Who’s this? And why is she wearing a Falaran Coalition uniform?”
“Mother, meet Lieutenant Zara Tahir. She’s my… guest. Zara, this is my mother, Adela Rand.”
Zara had to swallow
Lordsvengeance would have to go through him to get to his submissive. And if the fucker tried, he’d find out exactly what a vampire was capable of.
It wouldn’t be a lesson the colonel would enjoy.
* * *
Zara woke some hours later to the smell of meat and spices. She sat up on her elbows on the bunk to see Rand, fully dressed in light G.A.E. armor, arranging a pair of steaming trays, utensils, and drinks on the small table. “Something smells good.”
“I made a run to the mess tent,” he explained, as she took another appreciative sniff. “I figured being stared at by a tent full of horny, resentful assholes wouldn’t be particularly good for your digestion.”
“You figured right.” She rolled out of the bed, picked up her uni, and got dressed before taking a seat at the table. She removed the tray’s lid, releasing a wave of steam fragrant with the scent of roasted meat and spices. “Mmm.” Zara picked up a fork and dug in, quickly discovering that it was every bit as delicious as it smelled.
For a moment there was silence as they started making short work of the food. Rand ate every bit as heartily as she did. Godssonists superstition notwithstanding, vamps ate food and had no more problem with sunlight than ordinary humans.
Once her stomach was comfortably full, Zara headed for the curtained alcove and used one of the cleansing sheets to bathe the dried sweat of combat and passion from her skin.
Emerging, she bent over the duffle she’d packed with her clothes and gear. She could feel Rand watching her lazily from where he sprawled on the bunk, his armored ankles crossed.
As she dressed in a clean uniform -- one that actually fit -- Zara asked, “What are your plans for the day? I mean what do you want me to do?” Looking over at him, lounging there looking big and handsome in his black armor suddenly brought home to her what an uncomfortable position she was in.
He might be her lover, but he was also an enemy officer.
What the hell am I doing ?
As a lieutenant in the Falaran army, it was her duty to escape -- even to kill him.
And yet even if she did such a thing, what the hell would she do next? She was in the middle of a G.A.E. camp. Even if she succeeded in killing Rand, she was unlikely to make it to freedom.
But Rand, who’d protected her from his own murderous men, would still be dead -- a victim of his own generosity.
Assuming she succeeded. A V.S.S. might be strong, but Rand still had at least double her strength. Probably more. She didn’t have a prayer against him.
None of which changed the fact that he was the enemy, and Zara still had a duty to escape.
* * *
His table chimed. Zara looked around in time to see a familiar face form above the tabletop. “Good morning, darling.”
Zara had heard the voice in hundreds of newstreams: Adela Rand. She gaped. Darling? Adela Rand is calling… Oh. Rand.
“Hi, mom,” Rand said cheerfully. “Made any gossip streams lately?”
One of the galaxy’s richest women gave him an urchin grin. “Oh, you how it is. I can’t scratch my ass without winding up on the ‘stream.” She looked him over with what Zara thought was a trace of anxiety. “I see you’re still in one piece.”
“So far.” He rolled off the bunk, walked to the table and dropped into a chair so he could study his mother’s image.
Zara fidgeted, more than a little uncomfortable. “Do you want me to step outside, give you two a little privacy?”
“God, no. Somebody’d probably shoot you -- while ‘trying to escape.’” He gestured quotes in the air, then snorted sardonically. “Might even be true.”
Adela studied her so closely, Zara wondered if she had spinach clinging to her teeth. “Who’s this? And why is she wearing a Falaran Coalition uniform?”
“Mother, meet Lieutenant Zara Tahir. She’s my… guest. Zara, this is my mother, Adela Rand.”
Zara had to swallow
Similar Books
