Taken By Terror by Lolita Lopez

Chapter Fourteen

Terror looked down at Maisie as she dozed against his chest. After switching out her IV, he had moved her to the bottom bunk of the bed so she could sleep more comfortably. She had refused to let go of him, and he had realized he didn’t actually want to let go either. The bunk was too small for them to sleep comfortably side by side. She had curled up on top of him, her cheek to his chest and her left leg thrown over both of his.

No woman had ever been brave enough to touch him first or to demand his attention. His scarred face made them nervous and his reputation preceded him. He had never been the cuddling type. When he had been younger and learning what he liked, he had tried to hold his lovers or sleep next to them. It never worked. He was either too hot or couldn’t relax with another person touching him.

That hadn’t been a problem tonight. He had fallen asleep within seconds of getting Maisie situated in his arms. The reason why it was different with her was simple. She had seen him at his very worst. When he had been at his most vulnerable, she had treated him with respect and kindness. She had taken care of him, fed him, washed him and even given him pain medication she smuggled into the cell. She hadn’t dehumanized or degraded him, hadn’t emasculated or hurt him. She had shown only the sweet gentleness of her too-big heart.

He wanted to protect that big heart of hers. He wanted to keep it safe. Keep her safe.

The only way to do that was to never let her out of his sight. That meant walking away from the only life he had ever known, his entire career and all of his friendships. It would mean starting over. That idea should have scared or unsettled him, but it didn’t. Not if Maisie was with him.

Is that what she wants?

It was likely that Maisie wanted to get as far away from him as possible. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. He had brought nothing but suffering and violence into her life. If the tables were turned, he would leave her at the first chance and run fast in the other direction.

Unable to help himself, he reached out and curled a few loose strands of her dark hair around his finger. He wanted to bury his hands in it, grip tightly and tilt her head back so he could kiss her until she was panting for him. He wanted to slide his fingers other places, too. He wanted to map out her body with his hands and his tongue. He wanted to show her something better than suffering and violence. He wanted to show her pleasure and joy.

She moved slightly and shifted a little before waking completely. She looked confused at first, but then her gaze settled on his face. She smiled, and his heart leapt into his throat. He couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to wake up to her like this every morning.

She rubbed her face and then made a series of signs. He frowned, hating that he couldn’t understand her. He hadn’t yet had a chance to crack open the sign language guide Cotton had given him. She smiled gently and took his hand, turning over his palm and tracing letters on it. B-A-T-H-R-O-O-M.

“Bathroom?” he confirmed.

She nodded and made a sign, placing her thumb between her forefinger and middle finger and waving her hand side to side. He repeated the movement and earned a bright smile from her. “I’m a quick study,” he assured her. “I’ll learn your language if you’ll teach me.”

“I promise,” she said, using the only other signs he understood.

He climbed over her and out of the bed. As soon as he was standing, he took hold of the long IV line and moved it out of the way so she could get up without getting tangled in it. She looked so much better after all of the fluids, vitamins and medications. The IV bag was nearly empty so he motioned for her to wait a moment. He rifled through the medical supplies and found what he needed. Back at her side, he disconnected the IV from the port in her hand and covered it with a seal to keep it clean. He tossed the IV bag into the trash and grabbed his weapon from the nearby table, tucking it into the back of his pants.

Maisie seemed worried about the gun and reached for the tablet that had been inside the crate with her. She tapped the screen to ask her question. “Are we in danger on this ship?”

“We’re in danger everywhere,” Terror answered honestly. “By now, Savage will have a fugitive alert out for both of us. I had a chance to speak with the captain, and he says we’re safe down here on this deck as long as we stay out of sight.”

She arched her eyebrows at that. He raised his hands. “I know, Maisie, but we don’t have anyone else helping us right now. He’s a friend of a friend. They’re both good people. Both allied with the Red Feather. We have to trust that he’s not going to betray us.”

She typed her reply and held his gaze as the tablet read her words. “I don’t trust anyone but you.”

Even after everything he had put her through in the last twenty-four hours, she believed in him. He was used to the men he worked with trusting him with their lives. It was different to hear it from Maisie. It felt more intimate and special. Before he could act on the emotions she had awakened, she lifted her hand and seemed more urgent as she made the sign for the bathroom.

“Right. Sorry. This way.”

When he stowed away onto the ship, Terror had spoken briefly with the captain. The older man had a backpack filled with supplies from Naya including a tablet with the ship’s layout, crew list and cargo manifest. The captain had assured him there would be no trouble from any of the crew. None of the crew was berthed on this floor. The heating system had been on the fritz for weeks, and the ship’s mechanic was having trouble getting parts after a supply ship had been hijacked by Splinters. No one wanted to sleep down here, especially on the long-haul space runs.

It wouldn’t be the most comfortable trip, but Terror was sure Maisie could handle it. She had survived weeks in different prisons, the last one in an outdoor pen. A few days in a colder than usual bunkroom would be nothing to her. If it was, well, he could think of a few ways to keep her warm—if she was interested, of course.

He caught her reflection in the dirty mirror over the sink. She wrinkled her nose at the not very clean bathroom but didn’t complain. He decided then and there he would come back later and clean up the space. She might have to bear the uncomfortable climate, but he wouldn’t force her to use a filthy bathroom.

She ducked into a stall, and he chose one a few stalls down to give her a little privacy. She beat him out to the pair of sinks mounted on the wall. She pointed to the sink and then showed him the correct sign for it. She did the same for the water, the soap and the actual process of washing her hands. He’d always had a knack for learning new things and committed these new hand movements to memory.

A vending machine attached to the nearby wall dispensed various toiletries. She selected a berry-flavored tooth cleaning tablet, but the package didn’t slide down the chute. With the practiced ease of a woman who had grown up on rickety ships and abandoned military camps, she gave the side of the machine a good whack to free the package. She tossed it to him and then selected another for herself. She grabbed a package of cleansing wipes as well and used a few of them to tidy up her face and neck while swishing the foaming dental tablet around her mouth.

When she was done, she handed him the package so he could tidy up as well. As he took them, he asked, “Thank you?”

She touched her fingers to her mouth and moved it away, almost as if blowing a kiss but not quite. He repeated it, and she replied with an underhanded scooping motion toward herself.

“You’re welcome?” he guessed, and she nodded.

As he took advantage of the chance to clean his sticky skin, he wondered how long it would take to learn the signs he needed to have a real conversation with her. The sort of conversation that didn’t require paper and pen, a tablet or tapped codes. He wanted to be able to sit next to her and enjoy her company without long pauses or confusion.

When they returned to their bunk room, he grabbed the last bag of IV fluid from the supplies. She made a face, but he insisted, pointing to the orders scribbled on the outside of the medication boxes. She relented with a dramatic sigh and settled onto the couch. He carefully peeled away the clear sticker covering the port and swiped it with a sterilizing swab before connecting it to the new IV bag. After he hung the bag from a coat hook near the door, he returned to the supplies and drew up the next dose of antibiotics. Maise rolled her eyes but didn’t argue as he prepared a site on her upper arm for the injection.

“Hungry?” he asked after giving the injection. He gestured toward the stack of MREs on the table.

She made a sweeping motion with her fingers along her chest to her belly and then pointed at him. Realizing she was teaching him how to ask, he repeated the motions until she nodded.

“Are you hungry?” he asked again, this time using the accompanying sign.

She nodded and flicked her fist up and down. He grabbed two of the slim packets and carried them to the small sink in the kitchenette. He let the water run for a few seconds before scooping up a handful and tasting it. It had a slightly tinny flavor, probably from sitting in the pipes so long, but it was clear and cold. There was always a risk to an unknown water source, but he figured this one was acceptable.

He ripped open the meal packets and held them under the faucet, filling them to the correct line. He shut off the water and crimped the tops closed. Already, he could feel the heat bubbling through the thick plastic material of the packet. He found a couple of spoons in a drawer and a pair of disposable cups that he filled with the cold water. Maisie accepted the hastily arranged meal with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He spoke the words and signed, showing her that he had been paying attention. He grabbed her tablet and handed it to her. There were things he wanted to talk about, and he thought it would be easier and faster for her to use the device for communication. Thinking about how difficult her life must have been living in a hearing world, he asked, “Do you ever think about having your ears fixed?”

She shot him a perturbed look and tapped away at the tablet. “Do you ever think about having your eye fixed?”

“Point taken.” He gestured to his ruined eye with his spoon. “I waited too long to seek medical attention. The nerves went to shit, and the eye surgeon didn’t think a bionic prosthetic would ever work. I do have a lens on this one.” He pointed to his good eye. “It allows this side to take in a wider view. Helps with depth perception.”

“I was born without the nerve pathways required for hearing,” she explained via the tablet. “My mom and dad took me to a specialist right after I was born. He told them there was no point in doing the surgery.” She stabbed her spoon into the steaming packet and stirred the contents. After taking a bite, she used the tablet again. “This isn’t that bad.”

He didn’t have the same luck with his. He swallowed the offensive mouthful of fake beef and noodles. “I hate mushrooms and beef.”

She snatched his packet and traded them. She made a little beak with her fingers and pecked them against her palm.

“Chicken?” he guessed.

She nodded and tucked into her meal. She didn’t seem to mind the flavor as she wolfed down the bites, as if uncertain when she would get her next meal. How many times had that been her reality? How often had she been denied food as a punishment? Irritated by the thought of her suffering, he vowed that as long as she was under his care, he would make sure she had proper nutrition.

When they were done eating, she picked up her tablet and seemed to be typing quite a few questions. Eventually, she finished and watched him expectantly as the device recited what she had written. “How long will we be on this ship? Where are we going? Do we have a plan?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. Not really,” he admitted. Taking his smaller handheld tablet from its resting place on the couch’s arm, he opened the ship’s navigational charts and shifted the tablet so she could see the screen. Maisie moved closer, sidling right up next to him and draping her arm over his shoulder for a better look. He swallowed hard at the sudden spark of arousal that her touch ignited. It was an innocent act, but his body had a sinful reaction.

She reached out and tapped the screen. Using her two fingers, she zoomed in on the first scheduled stop. The Cur. It was a colony planet, loosely affiliated with Calyx but outside Alliance control. Lawless. Dangerous as fuck. The perfect place for them to hop off this ship and disappear.

“I have a contact there,” he said, making sure she could see his mouth. “More than one, actually. They’ll help us.”

She picked up her tablet. “Are they Shadow Force?”

“Not exactly,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that they were Shadow Force, but they’ve retired. There's a loose network of former agents who keep safe houses open and available. We won’t be able to stay long, but we’ll be able to get what we need.”

“A doctor?”

Worried, he asked, “Are you feeling sick? Feverish?”

She shook her head and set aside her tablet. Taking his hand, she brought it up to the left side of her head. She guided his forefinger to the space just above her ear and then slid it along her scalp until he could feel the small hard ridge hidden there. Instantly curious, he sat forward and tilted her head to the side. He examined the area and realized something was buried under her skin.

“A chip?” he asked, gazing into her eyes. His gut clenched. “Is it transmitting?”

She shook her head.

“Devious?” He couldn’t imagine anyone else putting a chip in her head.

She nodded.

“When?”

She held up two fingers and then moved her cupped right hand over the back of her left hand. Knowing she was trying to tell him something related to time, he decided that her hands moving that way were similar to a setting sun.

“Two nights?”

Smiling, she nodded and then stabbed two fingers toward her neck. That sign he understood easily. “Two nights before Devious died?”

“Yes.” She held up a hand to stop his line of questioning and grabbed her tablet. When she was done typing, she seemed anxious to see his reaction. “The body in the photos they showed me wasn’t Devious.”

Terror stiffened. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

She seemed sure. Her expression was serious, and he had no reason to doubt her. “If that’s not Devious, who is it?”

She shrugged then tapped quickly on the tablet. “If that wasn’t Devious, how did they get his DNA? Did my DNA belong to Devious’ family or to the dead body? Or was it just some cruel lie? Is that admiral really my grandfather? Was my father actually Devious’ brother?”

That was a hell of a question. He thought back to the way Keen had conducted the interview. He had been so quick to pull away the photos and had ignored her obvious confusion about the body. Knowing what he did of Keen’s background in intelligence, he wouldn’t put it past the man to play fast and loose with the truth.

Yet—there was a ring of truth to the claim that Devious and Maisie were related. He had a gut feeling about it. In so many ways, it made sense.

“What’s on the chip?” Right now, that answer was more important than whether or not Maisie and Devious shared DNA.

“I don’t know.” She took almost a minute to type out her reply. “Devious woke me up in the middle of the night and told me that he had something I had to protect. He told me that I had to smuggle it out of the mine. He wanted me to leave that night, but I refused.”

“Why?” He couldn’t imagine what would have kept her in that hellhole. “Why did you pass up your best chance to escape?”

She looked at him as if he were the stupidest man in the universe. Not bothering with the tablet, she pointed directly at him and mouthed, “You.”

His heart hammered in his chest. She was right. He was the stupidest man in the universe—but he was a quick learner. Unable to fight off the deep yearning a moment longer, he leaned forward and kissed her. It wasn’t the smooth, seductive kiss he had imagined would always be their first. It was impulsive and a bit rough and the slightest bit messy.

Maisie didn’t seem to mind. She whimpered as their lips met, as if she had been waiting forever for this moment. Her small hands clutched at his shoulders, and he wound his arms around her slim body, hauling her right off the uncomfortable couch cushion and onto his lap. Belatedly, he remembered the IV line snaking out of her hand and broke away from the kiss to make sure he hadn’t injured her.

She took advantage of the distance between their mouths to examine him. Boldly, she touched his face. She grazed her fingertips over his cheek and along his jaw. As a general rule he never allowed anyone to touch his face, not even medical personnel. He didn’t like the sensation of being scrutinized or feeling vulnerable to injury from a skilled hand.

Yet he found himself leaning into her touch. He closed his eye, letting himself enjoy the sensation of her fingers as they moved across his jaw and over his lips and then along the puckered scar of his ruined eye. She traced the old gouges and suture lines and swept her fingertips to his brow and hairline.

When her hand settled along his jaw, he turned his head just enough to kiss her palm. It seemed to be the invitation she needed to move even closer. She hooked her arms around his neck and pressed her pert breasts to his chest. Her hitched breaths wafted over his skin a moment before her plump lips brushed his in a seeking kiss.

He let her control this kiss and was rewarded with the sensual slide of her perfect, pouty lips on his. Her soft hands caressed the back of his neck and his shoulder while her mouth moved against his with the unfamiliar discovery of an innocent. He wasn’t surprised. After all, how much time would she have had to date or flirt or kiss when her entire life was spent on the run?

This might have been new to her, but she wasn’t shy. She gripped his shirt tightly in one hand while the other grasped his neck and held him right where she wanted him. She licked at the seam of his lips, tentative at first and then brazen. He flicked his tongue against hers, and she moaned into him, rocking her hips in a way that made him grunt. His throbbing cock ached, and thoughts of stripping her naked and burying himself in her raced through his lust-addled mind.

It had been so long since he had been with a woman. Even before he had been taken captive, it had been weeks since his last visit to a poppy. After his rescue, he had been too weak to even think about sex. Now, though, his libido raged, and he knew if he took her to bed right now, he would hurt her. He would ruin her. He would make her hate him.

So, he tamped down his blazing lust and simply enjoyed the novelty of making out with the woman he had craved for so long. He hadn’t ever been the sort of lover who allowed long sessions of kissing and touching. He was always on a tight schedule, even on his rest and relaxation leave. He went into his sessions with a poppy with a plan and timetable and stuck to it. Languid, heated kisses and gentle caresses had never been part of those plans.

Combing his fingers through Maisie’s long hair, he decided he had been an absolute fool to never make time for this. The weight and heat of her on his lap was incredibly soothing, and the tangle of their tongues was surprisingly relaxing. No wonder Vicious had mellowed so much since Grabbing Hallie. The rush of happy hormones from having a beautiful mate to enjoy like this would make any man more patient and content.

When she lightly scratched her short nails across his scalp, he shivered and groaned. The sensation traveled down his spine and settled low in his groin. He shifted her just a bit, enough to feel her womanly heat right against the taut bulge in the front of his pants. She gasped against his mouth, and he smiled before capturing her lips in another kiss, this one more punishing and possessive. She clutched him tighter and rocked against him, meeting his kiss with the same fervor.

Instead of pushing forward, she eased off their fervent kisses with short, soft pecks. Leaning back just enough to gaze at him, she smiled tenderly and stole his fucking heart. Her lips were red and swollen, and her drowsy expression ignited his protective side. He tucked her into an embrace, and she wiggled until her head rested on his shoulder, her lips pressed against the crook of his neck. She nuzzled into him, and he rubbed her back, silently reassuring her she would be safe in his arms.

Eventually, he would move them back to the bunk to get much needed sleep. For now, though, he wanted to enjoy holding her. He wanted to imprint the feel of her body and memorize the slow, steady way she breathed when relaxed. He didn’t know how this adventure of theirs was going to end. For all he knew, this might be the only time he was ever this close to her. If it was, he damn sure wasn’t going to waste it.