Prince of Time. Rebecca York
to look at him, she scooted away, putting several feet between them. She didn’t trust him. Or herself now. And she felt so confused, she had to blink back tears. For thirty years she’d avoided involvements. A few hours with this man and she was breaking every rule she’d ever made. She wanted to get up and make camp on the other side of the room. Instead she settled for turning back to her soup, eating as if her life depended on it, while she tried to fathom her own out-of-character behavior.
He said nothing. Instead he ate slowly. Cassie finished and was thinking about fixing two more cups when a change in the background hum of the station made her lift her head and sit very still. Thorn was also listening intently.
She saw a puzzled expression flash across his face just before the lights blinked. Then they went out, plunging the room into total blackness.
In the dark, she heard him bite out the word that she understood was a curse, “Klat!”
“What’s happening?” she asked in a shaky voice.
Thorn echoed the question in his own language. Reaching across the empty space separating him from Cassie, he found her arm and tugged her toward him. Her body went rigid. A clattering noise made his body tense for an attack. Then he realized her foot had hit an empty soup cup, sending it skittering across the floor.
He cursed again. He was jumpy as a bush stalker in heat. But why not, when he half expected armed men to come pelting into the room.
When Cassie tried to pull away from him, he gripped her shoulder. He understood why she might resist his touch. He knew full well he’d overstepped the bounds a few minutes ago when he’d cupped her breast, stroked her erect nipple. But when he’d felt her pulse quicken, he’d known it wasn’t out of fear, and some arrogant male impulse had urged him to find out how far he could go with her—even as he’d told himself he was simply conducting a sociology experiment. How would a female in her culture respond to advances from a strange male?
She tried again to pull away, but he held her tightly, unwilling to let her vanish into the darkness. Was the station under attack from hostile forces? Had the life-support system been damaged? Or was this simply a routine maintenance sequence, scheduled for the middle of the night?
He listened intently, prepared for any possibility. Silence reigned around them. The only thing his keen senses could pick up was that the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees.
Cassie kept trying to wiggle out of his grasp, growing increasingly agitated as she repeated a message he couldn’t decipher. “No!” he ordered in her language.
She answered with what sounded like a plea. “Please.” She’d used the word before, he recalled. When she’d been trying to get the medicine into him. He’d been near comatose, but his hearing had still been functioning. Was her present purpose equally urgent? A matter of life and death for both of them? Or had Lodar told her she’d better be at least ten feet from Thorn when the lights went out?
He sighed in the darkness, torn between paranoia and anger at himself. For the past hour he’d been seduced into a feeling of camaraderie with the very beautiful Cassie Devereaux. More than camaraderie, he admitted with a grimace. He’d been weak enough to fall under her spell. But he’d better remember that she could be the agent of his destruction.
The first order of business was to make sure she didn’t slip away in the darkness, leaving him sitting with his back to the wall. He found her right hand and laced the fingers with hers.
“Okay,” he muttered in her language, waiting to find out what she wanted to do.
Tentatively she leaned forward. He heard her carry sack slide toward them and wished he could see what she was doing as she fumbled with the contents. He was startled when she braced a cold, hard tube against their locked hands.
A weapon?
He snatched the cylinder out of her grasp. As his hand slid along the barrel, a beam of light shot from the end of the tube, slicing a path through the darkness.
“Flashlight,” she informed him.
He was glad she couldn’t see his hot face. The thing was merely a light source. But how long would it last?
The room was getting colder. Cassie pulled her jacket closed. As if by mutual agreement, they stood.
Willing himself to steadiness, he led her across the room to the door where she’d presumably entered. Playing the light down the dark tunnel, he breathed a little sigh when it proved to be empty. At least they weren’t being invaded. Yet. When he pressed the lock pad, there was no response.
“I need to check the main generator,” he told her, wishing she could follow what he was saying.
Cassie hung back as they approached the data analyzers. He reassured her with calm words before shining the light on the partition beyond. She nodded tightly as they skirted the machines that had given her the shock.
Although his manner was brisk as he reached for the access panel, she tensed.
They both let out a little sigh when the door came open without incident. Using the light, he examined the station controls and the specification charts. He could see from the schematic that there were three solar-powered units attached to electrical storage grids. Two were completely drained from a recent malfunction. The third was operating a few essential systems—like air purification—and automatically conserving energy for an emergency. Perhaps the damage to the power units could even explain the shock she’d gotten.
He pointed to the schematic and indicated the power source. “Sun.”
Cassie nodded vigorously, and he wondered if she really understood about solar collectors and electrical conversion.
He continued the explanation for himself, since he knew she couldn’t possibly follow. “The solar collectors are rapid recovery units. Let’s hope power is restored to something approaching normal when the sun comes out in the morning.”
She seemed reassured by his even tones. Or maybe she’d simply observed that he wasn’t dashing for an escape hatch.
He struggled to mask his frustration. It was one thing to play sexy little games with this woman. It was quite another to get some real answers out of her.
“How did you break in here? What is happening outside?” he demanded, wishing she could tell him what he needed to know as he pointed toward the door. Yet what did it matter what she said? He couldn’t afford to trust her.
“I guess were going to have to take a look,” he said in clipped tones, pulling her toward the door. They both shivered in the icy air wafting toward them.
“C-o-l-d,” Cassie said in her own language, giving the observation teeth-chattering emphasis he had no trouble comprehending.
He repeated the temperature appraisal. “Cold.” Next they’d be discussing the barometric pressure and the projected global weather forecast.
She darted back to the makeshift bed, retrieved a blanket and draped it over his shoulders. “Warm.”
“Warm.” Two brilliant new concepts, he congratulated himself, feeling ridiculous huddling under a shawl like an old woman. But he conceded the virtue of prudence. And dignity. If someone was waiting outside, he didn’t want to greet them looking as if he’d tottered from a sickbed. Opening a supply cabinet, he began to search for something more substantial than a technician’s coat. He was rewarded with a cache of silver knit pants and shirts—the expedition’s standard issue.
When he threw off the blanket and started to unbutton the thin coat, she turned quickly away. He’d forgotten about her ridiculous nudity taboo.
Stomping into the grooming alcove, he shucked off the coat and pulled on the pants and shirt. He followed with a pair of thermal socks, wishing he could add boots.
When he came out, she nodded her approval.
He didn’t want her approval. Ignoring her, he marched back to the entrance. Ice