ë Archer - Collision Course

“Doesn’t look like they’ll be available for a few solar days,” another said wryly.

“Or weeks.”

Kell threaded his fingers with hers and stepped back. His gaze burned her. Without speaking, he led her away. Her heart pounded with every step as they moved quickly, purposefully through the base. She paid no attention to where they were going, seeing only him. Within moments, she found herself in a barracks corridor. And then she was inside his quarters.

His quarters were larger than hers, but just as impersonally utilitarian, scrupulously neat. No holoimages of friends or family. If she wanted to find indications of the inner man, she would not find them here. The absence of personal touches revealed only that he lived for his work. His quarters were not a haven, nor a place of retreat, only somewhere to sleep between missions. Home that wasn’t home, not truly.

Immediately, he pulled her close. She felt the tough, hard strength of him, and the warmth too.

“If anyone treated you poorly, tell me. I’ll have them thrown into the brig. After I beat them senseless.”

“I can’t fault 8th Wing for its hospitality. Not this time. Everyone acts like I’m some sort of hero.”

“They aren’t mistaken.”

“Only doing what I was obliged to do.”

“Now you’re mistaken.” He brushed his fingertips over her face, and she fought to keep her eyes open. “Don’t forget, Mara. I know you now. You handed the controls of the Arcadia over to Celene to stay with me. Nothing obligated about that.”

It had been exactly the right thing to do, an instinct she’d had to obey, yet she felt herself blush.

She could not have made her feelings more plain, not even if she had written and recited a thousand-stanza epospoem.

“Brash princess.” A corner of his mouth turned up. He glanced at her uniform, and his smile turned puzzled. Pleased, but puzzled. “They inducted you already?”

“This is borrowed glory.”

A flicker of disappointment in his dark eyes. “No. You make it shine.”

Ah, there went another piece of her heart. “I do flatter the uniform.”

“It doesn’t have to be borrowed.”

“Will they have me, then?”

“There are a few tests you will have to take, but I have every confidence that you’ll not only pass, but set new records. You aren’t the average cadet.”

She gave a wry laugh. “How many cadets have ‘exiled princess’ and ‘former scavenger’ on their credentials?”

He did not laugh. In fact, Mara had never seen him look so solemn, so focused. “Former scavenger.”

“I changed my life once before.” It amazed her that her voice did not quaver, yet she felt herself gathering strength. “It’s mine to change again.” She drew in a breath. “I’m ready to fight for more than myself.”

“The fight against PRAXIS isn’t easy,” he cautioned.

“Nothing worthwhile is easy. I’ve seen what PRAXIS does to worlds, to people. It has to stop,

and I want to help stop it. Are you trying to convince me to say no?”

In response, he kissed her. A demanding, assertive kiss that was also vivid with yearning. He cupped her head with his broad hands to claim better access to her mouth. Her body responded at once.

Kell kissed with every part of his being, as though nothing mattered more.

“I thought I knew fear. Living like an animal on Sayén. It was fear that kept me alive, that made me win every fight. But that fear was nothing compared to what I felt when I thought about you leaving.”

“Would you have let me go?”

He closed his eyes, as if the idea physically pained him. “It would have killed me. But, yes, I would have. Better that than cage you.”

“I can’t stay away from you, Kell. My heart won’t let me.”

“You don’t need to become 8th Wing to have me. Wherever you are, I’ll find a way to you.”

“I want everything,” she whispered. “To join the fight against PRAXIS, to believe in something beyond myself. And you. I want you.”

He was dark and bright as he gazed down at her. Intent. Hungry. “All that I am or ever will be is yours.”

Mara found herself falling back onto the bed with Kell coming down to lie partially atop her. His weight was welcome, needed. She indulged herself by running her hands all over his body. He was hers. This fighter was hers, his body and his heart. A gift she’d never expected.

He used his hands, too, caressing her as if committing her to memory. His touch was possessive but tender, and as he stroked her legs, her belly, her arms, radiance filled her, the twin suns of arousal and emotion. He palmed her breasts, and she writhed at his touch, yet it wasn’t enough.

“Too much between us.” His large hands unfastened her uniform, and he growled like a feral creature when the fabric parted, revealing that she was nude beneath her borrowed clothing.

“Do something for me.” He devoured her with his gaze.

“Anything.”

“Always have underwear on beneath your uniform.”

She raised her brows. “I would think you’d want me naked.”

“I do. Gods, I do. But,” he added as he ran his fingertips down the shallow valley between her breasts, “I could never concentrate on a mission, or anything else, knowing you were bare under your uniform.” He bent his head and licked a tight circle around her nipple, causing her to shudder with need.

“Don’t want to distract you.” She gasped, arching up.

“Distract me, Mara.” He licked her other nipple, then kissed his way up to her throat, his mouth hot and ravenous. “Distract me for the rest of my life.”

She started to pull at his clothing, but realization made her give a husky laugh. “Seems we switched roles. You’re dressed like a smuggler, and I’m 8th Wing.”

“We can be whoever we damn well want to be.” He glanced down at himself. “What I am for certain is filthy. I’ll shower and then join you.”

“We can shower together. Later. First, I need you.”

He wasted no more time on words, hungrily kissing her throat. She felt the sweet pain of his teeth on her neck.

“You like to bite me.”

“I do. It’s how we claim our mates on Sayén.” He bit her again.

She shifted, keeping his teeth upon her, then she sunk her own teeth into his neck. He growled. A deep, resounding joy thrilled her as they claimed each other.

“I love you, Kell.” She released him, feeling primitive satisfaction to see the marks she left upon his flesh. And satisfaction to know that he marked her, as well.

“I love you, me luna.” He brushed kisses across her cheeks, her lips, kisses she met with her own.

“I want to fight beside you during the day, and make love to you all night.”

“My wants are the same as yours,” she whispered, “though I wouldn’t mind making love all day too.”

He smiled. “Just this once, I’ll obey your orders.”

Mara fought to reclaim some of her imperial demeanor, though it was a struggle when his hands and mouth worked magic. “Only this once?”

“Other times too. But not always. I am a commander, after all.”

“Thank the gods for that.”

Before he lowered his head to take her mouth, he glanced around his quarters. “This place never felt like mine before. I slept here, ate here sometimes, but it was just a room, nothing else.” He gazed back down at her. “You’ve made it into a home. My home.”

They stopped speaking then. He peeled off the rest of her uniform, and she removed his smuggler’s clothes. Then they were both naked, their limbs intertwined, bound together by a force greater than gravity.

Zoë Archer is an award-winning romance author who loves adventure—both on Earth and amongst the stars. As a child, she never dreamed about being the rescued princess, but wanted to kick butt right beside the hero. She now applies her master’s degrees in literature and fiction to creating butt-kicking heroines and daring heroes. Her Blades of the Rose series—featuring dashing men and fearless women —is available now. Zoe and her husband live in Los Angeles. She often tweets about boots and baking.

Visit her on the web at www.zoearcherbooks.com and on Twitter @Zoe_Archer.