Corso's brows furrowed with worry over the woman he cradled on his lap. His indomitable, brilliant, sensual Ky who looked like fluff and bit like the business end of a knife. He knew, deep down, that she'd kick her own ass out of the slump she'd crawled into, but the taint of guilt marred her spirit, and he was at a loss as to what to do.
Ky had so few people she ever let close; her crew, Largo, and an old associate, Beryl Thorne, comprised the lump sum of who she considered family. Even Rogun never made the cut into her inner circle. She'd never confronted the probable death of someone so central to her heart, and she wore that burden like a badge of shame. He wanted to make it better and sitting in this shroud of silence was the last damned thing she needed.
"Sorry, no rain in my pockets," he ventured, in a feeble attempt at humor. "Perhaps we should download some of those 'Relaxing Sounds of Nature' recordings into the ship's intercom."
"I think it would lose something in translation," she murmured against his shoulder. "Maybe we'll find that rainstorm again if we look hard enough."
His hand worked its way under her shirt, ignoring the stinging twinges when the fabric caught on his still-healing knuckles. The ridges of her ribs pressed against his fingertips as he caressed her back and the knots of bone up and down her spine were more prominent; she'd lost weight. Not surprising since she often took her meals from a glass and hadn't slept well in days.
He attempted to tame his jumbled thoughts into one coherent stream as he lazily stroked her skin. The exact second when simple comfort turned into something more snuck by him as craftily as a pickpocket on a shadowport. A row of kisses drawn along his jaw, her fingers tracing the line of his collarbone, a subtle shift of her position, bringing his hand forward to her chest.
Her breathing stumbled when his palm found her breast, fingers kneading and gently pinching her nipple. A warm surge of blood rushed to his groin as his heart accelerated to thump against his ribs. Words had failed, but this he could give her.
A familiar bulge formed beneath her ass and she wriggled her hips to bring the message home that she desired a means to reduce her cares to a single tactile point of release.
The morass of unnavigable emotions she'd been foundering in evaporated the moment he'd fondled her breast. She could bury all fears, doubts, and regrets in this place. Hide from memories, nightmares, and herself in this brief sanctuary for damned souls.
She tangled her hand in his hair, closed her eyes and fell into the world of his touch and smell and the taste of his mouth crushed against hers.
"Seat's small, maybe the bedroom?" he suggested, breaking the kiss and hooking his arm under her knees to stand upright.
She glanced behind to the expanse of the control console. "I don't want to wait. Put me down."
"What? Here?" He groaned in protest when she squirmed against him until he lowered her feet to the floor.
"Yes, here," she affirmed and took the few steps to lean forward across a bank of controls either locked or dark from inactivity. She hiked her shirt up and cocked one hip in invitation, pursed her lips and winked at him over her shoulder.
"We've never...I mean we shouldn't," he stammered.
"For once we're alone. I need this, and I think you do too."
With an audible gulp, Corso toed off his boots and stepped behind her, the front of his trousers lightly skimming the convex orbs of her ass. She spread across the console like spilled sugar, arms extended above her head. His hands splayed across her back and pushed her shirt up further while he slowly bent to dip his tongue into one of the twin dimples at the base of her spine. A low moan trickled from her lips as he continued to lap back and forth between the two indentations, filling his mouth with the salty sweetness of her skin.
His fingers dragged down her back, feather-light travelers following the curves and dips of her landscape, the sweep of her ribs, the tight cinch of her waist, the flare of her hips. He righted himself, pressing his knee between her thighs to force her legs further apart. Holding her in place with one arm he glided his other palm over the pale globe of her ass to disappear into the cleft so newly opened. Deftly he plied his manual skills, stroking, circling, teasing. Her body went rigid, and she held the deep inhale, like those few moments of perfect stillness before an explosion. He took her to the brink and halted.
"Don't stop," she sighed, writhing against his fingers. "Shh," he admonished, flattening her further onto the console, his hand a smoky shadow on a blanket of snow.
His injury stiffened fingers, still wet with her arousal, fumbled with the fasteners of his pants until they gave way and dropped to his ankles until he untangled his feet and kicked them aside. Bending his knees, spreading her thighs wider apart, he guided himself to her core and plunged, driving her against the front of the console. Her bones creaked against the hard edge, and she ate the pain like candy.
He ground his fingers and thumbs into the creamy skin of her hips knowing he would leave bruises and not caring. The door to the other he kept caged inside cracked open when she'd cried out his name. 'Don't be gentle,' she'd begged, and he obliged, riding out his own internal battle with each thrust. His toffee-colored body slammed into her pale spacer's flesh, pinning her to the console in an ever-increasing tempo until the fierce heat was all he could feel. Her nails screeched against the glass of the panel, her head sprang up, and a string of whimpering gasps staggered from her throat. Her muscles pulsed around him and with a growl of victory, he slammed the cage door shut and spilled himself deep inside.
Relief of many hues brushed across his mind. "Sweet heavens above, I love you," he murmured as he collapsed forward to cover her prone back.
"Mmm, you too," she hummed in response, welcoming the weight and warmth.
What had happened wasn't intended to last long, it was meant to be sudden, raw, instant gratification in the rough, and it scared the hell out of him. Making love to her was incomparable when he could mete out pleasure in gently controlled increments; but just one slip and passion could turn into a kind of insanity, blind and hungry. His bout of crazy on Belsavis served to show just how close to the edge he walked and although he was almost positive he would ever hurt her, the slight possibility alone tied his guts into a knot.
"Corso, love, you can move now," her voice broke through at last.
"I'm sorry, babe. You must be freezing," he apologized, pushed himself upright and retrieved his pants.
He wrapped her in the discarded blanket, carried her to their room and deposited her in the bed tucking the covers up around her chin. "You get some sleep. I'll be back in a bit after I download the crystal and maybe have some of that tea and toast you so graciously offered earlier."
Temporarily free of haunting concerns, she let exhaustion have its way, settled back into the pillow and yawned. She grasped his hand and brought it to her mouth, his injured knuckles rough against her lips. "I can be such a selfish bitch sometimes. How are your hands and shoulder? Do they need more kolto or fresh bandages?"
"Our earlier exercise didn't put much strain on the shoulder, and the hands are stiff and swollen, but I think you'd agree they're healing just fine. The droid can help if I need anything." He bent to kiss her forehead and readjusted the covers before leaving their room. He'd likely be the one to stroll the corridors tonight.
They'd kept busy for the four-day journey to Eiattu trying to open the box and looking for other hiding places on the ship. Time had passed rather quickly although Ky was relieved when they dropped out of hyperspace and prepared to dock in the spaceport of the planet's capital and largest city.
She'd secreted the box away in a space behind a panel under the flooring of the engine room that provided extra shielding from scans just in case they were boarded. The locking mechanism on the box itself proved to be more problematic having an encryption neither had seen before and no place to insert a spike. Not that either of them possessed that level of skill even had a port been available. Perhaps the mystery man would have some answers.
She sat in the navigator's seat while Corso followed the landing procedures and instructions and caught a glimpse of the circular city built at the edge of one of the planet's many oceans. The center rose in a tall spire above the pavilion-like layout of the silvery, reflective expanse of the annular metropolis. Swamps and estuaries broken by blue inlets and tributaries abutted against the outer walls. The spaceport lay at the outer edge of the southeast quadrant.
Spaceport officials had a standing policy of payment up front before the dock foreman would order his men to begin the refueling process. She transferred the funds, watching in dismay as the total in her account hovered just above the dreaded zero. If only Sonhem could be resurrected so she could kill him twice; damn him and damn her all over again for being such an idiot.
She locked the ship and proceeded to the busy shopping area lining the main concourse and purchased a bag of caf beans, and a bottle of shampoo, avoiding the liquor section although she was sorely tempted. She'd been pacing herself a bit too much, as far as she was concerned, but figured she could make the little more than a third of a bottle last until Denon. Nine more days would surely test that theory.
Corso strode beside her carrying the bag, both enjoying the chance to stretch their legs and breathe unrecycled air. They remained alert, skirting clusters of people, and carefully watching hand and eye movements of passers-by. A side exit opened onto a catwalk that evidently ran the circumference of the entire city. It extended out over the tops of cypress and scrub oak and the carpet of bracken covering the ground below.
The smell of brackish water, unpleasant but not overwhelming, rose from the swampy area, and a light breeze ruffled their hair as they stood near the waist-high railing. Corso set the bag down and leaned casually against the round durasteel tubes.
"You feel that?" he asked.
"Yeah, we're being watched. I don't see anyone, but there are plenty of vantage points up above."
"Who would know we're here? It doesn't make sense."
"Chance encounter maybe. Hunters are everywhere and have their own network for obtaining marks, and we've been on that list since Port Nowhere," she said flashing a smile his way and coyly tucking a tendril of stray hair behind her ear.
Just two people having an innocent flirtation, move on or make your move. She surveyed the surroundings over Corso's shoulder while he did the same over hers.
A glint of reflection, a puff of powdery white, Corso snagged her belt and yanked her down. The ping of metal off the railing, a dart skidding along the grating under their feet to fall off the edge verified their suspicions.
"The door," said Corso. "Let's get back inside."
Ky nodded and followed his lead. The whistle of another dart cut through the air skimming the back of her neck, stinging as it scratched across her skin. It partially buried itself in her flesh before its own momentum tore it away. Two steps inside the door and already her legs were leaden, her vision contracted to a dark tunnel with bright colored bubbles floating around the edges. She shook her head and stumbled, almost falling before Corso crooked his arm around her waist to keep her on her feet.
"Stay with me, babe. It's not far to the ship," he said, hooking his fingers into her belt for extra heft and dragging her along at a pace too fast for her legs to keep up. People in his path stepped aside, and he kept casting furtive glances over his shoulder. No blaster fire, no whiz of a dart, but he was unfamiliar with the laws of this planet, and perhaps a public display of violence was heartily discouraged by stiff penalties.
"Drop the bag," she mumbled, the words sounding incoherent even to her ears.
"Oh, no," he replied, "and face you in the morning without your caf? I'd sooner face a rabid gundark."
"Vry fny," her thick tongue and numb lips barely managed to mutter. The world had gone gray, and she struggled to keep her head up.
"C2?" Corso yelled as soon as he'd entered the hatch and locked it behind him.
He dropped the bag and lifted her sagging body, her head lolled across his arm, and her hands swung listlessly as he made his way to the med bay. The droid toddled in just as he placed her on the bed.
"How long 'til the refueling's done?" Corso asked the droid as he removed the scanner from the drawer under the side of the bed.
"Another twenty-four point seven minutes, if the calculations of flow and crew efficiency hold true."
"Here," Corso slapped the scanner into the droid's hands. "You're better at reading this thing. I need to know what she has in her system, if it's lethal, and what she needs. If she dies, I'll turn you into scrap."
Corso paced, rubbing the back of his neck, cursing under his breath. His eyes flicked back and forth between the droid and Ky's face, which had turned pale yellow in the harsh light.
"Ah," the droid said without further explanation.
Corso rounded the foot of the bed restraining the temptation to bash the droids head with the scanner but settled for poking it in the chest instead. "Well, out with it. How is she?"
"Apologies. The chemical proved to be a concentrated form of Symexia, a common substance used by bounty hunters and other unsavory types. A full dose would have rendered her unconscious almost immediately. She will sleep for a few hours and be quite groggy when she awakens and may suffer from compromised fine motor skills for a day or two. I will tend to the scratch on her neck and return to my duties unless you require something else."
"No, nothing else. Thanks, C2." Corso aided in turning her to the side and holding her hair out of the way while the droid cleaned and dressed the superficial wound. "Oh, notify me when the refueling is done. I'll be here until it's time to leave."
The light pierced her irises, her arms and legs felt wobbly as elastex tubing, and there was a horribly annoying buzzing in her ears. The last thing she remembered was being dragged through the spaceport concourse.
A hand gently smoothed her hair back from her forehead and Corso's voice, calm and soothing, drifted to her from far away.
"We've got to stop meeting like this."
Her dry throat rasped out the question, "How long?"
He pushed down on her shoulders when she tried to sit up. "Only a few hours. I've made the jump to Denon so you can relax and take your time. It's going to be a long trip."