Read Online Korval's Game by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Steve Miller, Sharon Lee
Ads: Link
fed.
He laughed, fingers and lips teasing; but allowed the shirt—and at once allowed everything, abandoning the role of command as she bit and kissed and stroked and the flowers were crushed beneath them and gave up their seductive odor.
She lay across his chest, teasing, nearly lazy against the flower’s urgency. Val Con’s eyes were half-closed, his face blurred with desire, hands stroking, beginning to insist. But he wasn’t in control now, she was. She rubbed against him, felt his hips move and laughed as she kissed his ear.
“So greedy, Val Con . . .”
A laugh—or a soft groan. “Miri . . .”
She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of him, on the warmth, on how well their bodies fit, on the desire barely restrained, soon to be loosed.
She looked at the pattern of him inside her head.
And— reached out , very softly, to stroke it and breathe on it and—kiss it—and love it and desire it and—
Beneath her, Val Con went utterly still. Miri opened her eyes.
“Cha’trez . . .” He touched her face, his eyes wide and shocked-looking, as if he’d been suddenly wakened. “Miri, what are you doing?”
She looked at him through slitted eyes, still more than half cuddling the pattern of him—the him of him—against her, feeling the love flow from her; feeling it return, enriched and expanded.
“Loving you,” she managed. Then, as the distress in his eyes began to resonate in his pattern. “Should I stop?”
“No.” His hands closed hard around her waist and he rolled, spilling her over into the crushed flowers and him hard and urgent atop her. “Never stop.”
It was bodies, then, and lust and the flowers and finally two voices crying out as one in joy and wonder.
They were still tangled around each other when the timer shut the room lights down. Both were fast asleep.
DUTIFUL PASSAGE:
In Orbit
“Once more,” First Mate Priscilla Mendoza called, “sequence twelve . . . now !”
Inside the lifeboat the pilot hit the sequence. Outside, the laser turrets swiveled, left, right, up, down, extended and finally withdrew into their shielding.
“Great!” she said. “Shut her down, Seth; we’re meshed.”
The little ship obediently powered down and the pilot slipped out of the slot, slamming the hatch.
“Last one,” he said. “Time to take on the Yxtrang.”
Priscilla blinked up at him—long, rat-faced, laconic Seth, matter-of-factly installing laser cannons on lifeboats. “Is that what you think we’re going to do?” she asked. “Go to war with the Yxtrang?”
Seth shrugged, bending over to gather up his toolkit. “Can’t think of anybody else’ll fire on escape pods,” he said calmly. “Terrans won’t. Liadens won’t—pay all that weirgild?” He grinned, a surprise of white teeth in his narrow face. “Never met a Liaden crazy enough to bankrupt himself on a sure thing.”
Priscilla smiled back and slung her tool bag over her shoulder. “So it’s the Yxtrang, by process of elimination?”
“Seems reasonable,” Seth said, ambling at her side down the service hall to Bay Four. “Either that, or Shan wants an ace up his sleeve.” He shrugged. “Never known Shan to make a bad play, where the ship was concerned. I’ll follow him on this one.”
Priscilla stopped and looked directly into his eyes—mud brown and smallish—Healer sense tuned to read every nuance of his emotive pattern.
“Seth, it’s not Yxtrang. But it could still be very dangerous. People who well might fire on an escape pod, and Balance be damned. We don’t know that they will, but we aren’t at all convinced that they won’t.” She paused and packed the next words heavily, timing them to his inner resonance. “Be certain, Seth. There’s still time for you to ship down—no blame.”
He stared back into her eyes, more than half-tranced.
“Shan found me in a backworld dive,” he said, so softly she strained to hear. “I was scraping out a living running in-system ore boats
He laughed, fingers and lips teasing; but allowed the shirt—and at once allowed everything, abandoning the role of command as she bit and kissed and stroked and the flowers were crushed beneath them and gave up their seductive odor.
She lay across his chest, teasing, nearly lazy against the flower’s urgency. Val Con’s eyes were half-closed, his face blurred with desire, hands stroking, beginning to insist. But he wasn’t in control now, she was. She rubbed against him, felt his hips move and laughed as she kissed his ear.
“So greedy, Val Con . . .”
A laugh—or a soft groan. “Miri . . .”
She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of him, on the warmth, on how well their bodies fit, on the desire barely restrained, soon to be loosed.
She looked at the pattern of him inside her head.
And— reached out , very softly, to stroke it and breathe on it and—kiss it—and love it and desire it and—
Beneath her, Val Con went utterly still. Miri opened her eyes.
“Cha’trez . . .” He touched her face, his eyes wide and shocked-looking, as if he’d been suddenly wakened. “Miri, what are you doing?”
She looked at him through slitted eyes, still more than half cuddling the pattern of him—the him of him—against her, feeling the love flow from her; feeling it return, enriched and expanded.
“Loving you,” she managed. Then, as the distress in his eyes began to resonate in his pattern. “Should I stop?”
“No.” His hands closed hard around her waist and he rolled, spilling her over into the crushed flowers and him hard and urgent atop her. “Never stop.”
It was bodies, then, and lust and the flowers and finally two voices crying out as one in joy and wonder.
They were still tangled around each other when the timer shut the room lights down. Both were fast asleep.
DUTIFUL PASSAGE:
In Orbit
“Once more,” First Mate Priscilla Mendoza called, “sequence twelve . . . now !”
Inside the lifeboat the pilot hit the sequence. Outside, the laser turrets swiveled, left, right, up, down, extended and finally withdrew into their shielding.
“Great!” she said. “Shut her down, Seth; we’re meshed.”
The little ship obediently powered down and the pilot slipped out of the slot, slamming the hatch.
“Last one,” he said. “Time to take on the Yxtrang.”
Priscilla blinked up at him—long, rat-faced, laconic Seth, matter-of-factly installing laser cannons on lifeboats. “Is that what you think we’re going to do?” she asked. “Go to war with the Yxtrang?”
Seth shrugged, bending over to gather up his toolkit. “Can’t think of anybody else’ll fire on escape pods,” he said calmly. “Terrans won’t. Liadens won’t—pay all that weirgild?” He grinned, a surprise of white teeth in his narrow face. “Never met a Liaden crazy enough to bankrupt himself on a sure thing.”
Priscilla smiled back and slung her tool bag over her shoulder. “So it’s the Yxtrang, by process of elimination?”
“Seems reasonable,” Seth said, ambling at her side down the service hall to Bay Four. “Either that, or Shan wants an ace up his sleeve.” He shrugged. “Never known Shan to make a bad play, where the ship was concerned. I’ll follow him on this one.”
Priscilla stopped and looked directly into his eyes—mud brown and smallish—Healer sense tuned to read every nuance of his emotive pattern.
“Seth, it’s not Yxtrang. But it could still be very dangerous. People who well might fire on an escape pod, and Balance be damned. We don’t know that they will, but we aren’t at all convinced that they won’t.” She paused and packed the next words heavily, timing them to his inner resonance. “Be certain, Seth. There’s still time for you to ship down—no blame.”
He stared back into her eyes, more than half-tranced.
“Shan found me in a backworld dive,” he said, so softly she strained to hear. “I was scraping out a living running in-system ore boats
Similar Books
