Tabitha Bradley: Enticed

"I doubt I'd be on your side."

"Oh, I don't know. Your people abandoned you after the battle. Didn't even bother to send a search party after you."

"They probably thought I'd been killed in the fight."

He snorted. "Who won? I'm laying bets that the Rysusi Legion did."

"Don't you know?"

His grin faded. "Don't tell me you really don't know who I am."

Talara's fingers flexed on the handle of her whip. "No. As far as I know, you're the CO of the local Rysusi outpost with eclectic tastes in clothing, off-duty."

His lips twisted into a smirk. "You don't know very much about Rysusi culture, do you, Dirandan?"

She shrugged.

"Even in as remote a possession as Aquila, Directorate clothing is pushing the envelope in permitted attire, no matter how elegantly styled it is."

Talara stiffened.

That blow to the head must have done a little more damage than the medic program detected.

The pieces suddenly clicked together…

This oddly dressed, silver-haired Rysusi malcontent in the remote back-woods of Aquila…

Aquila…

Not too long ago, a major event occurred in Aquila-space between the Union and the Rysusi…

"You're Damon Ziomar, the Renegade!" she blurted. "You're supposed to be dead !"

Damon laughed. "As you said earlier, it takes a lot more than a crash to kill me."

Talara felt everything that was previously rock-solid inside her body turn to quivering jelly. The hand holding the whip trembled. She swallowed hard and fought that reaction back under her control. Deep amethyst eyes narrowed, turned to icy slits.

"You'd best back off then, Ziomar. I've got a tracker on me and once my ship's distress signal is detected, the Directorate will send a retrieval team to get me. If you want to live, you'd better get away from me."

Damon smiled. "I don't think so, little Dirandan. For one thing, Aquila is deep enough within Rysusi lines that the Directorate won't risk infiltrating for one pilot, and for another, as I'm sure you're already aware, this area is magnetically and magically shielded. Life signs won't properly register and I doubt your ship's beacon can penetrate the net we have set up around this area."

Talara just stared at him, a long, long moment.

"N-no…" she breathed, aghast.

Damon chuckled villainously. "Oh yes, little Dirandan. Face it, my pet, you've been abandoned. You're at my mercy."

Talara stumbled backwards, raising her whip. "Don't you come anywhere near me, Rysusi scum!" she snarled, "I swear, I'll attack."

Damon snorted. "Pet, if I wanted to, I could flatten you with less than a thought.

I don't want to. You're too pretty and your scent is devastatingly sexy. I haven't had a woman in months."

"I won't be your dinner, you sick bastard!"

Damon laughed deeply. "I wasn't thinking of blood, pet. I've got more than enough of that. No… I'm thinking of something much more fun than cocktails."

He took a step towards her, his deep, onyx eyes sliding slowly, sensuously over her figure.

She flushed slightly, realizing that the deep-red Directorate flight-skin left little to the imagination, designed as it was, to seal her into the ship's systems like another component of the ship itself. It was barely opaque, a fact she noticed Damon had realized now that he was closer to her, by the glint of light in his eyes as his gaze leveled on her full, round breasts. She swallowed hard, that curl of hot flame in her belly rising, little sparks of electricity making her twitch. Heat began to build between her legs and she forced herself not to take another step backwards, away from him.

"I won't have sex with you," she said in a low voice.

"Blunt, aren't you?" Damon said with a soft chuckle. "Mmm… I always have liked the Directorate flight-suits, particularly on such a delicious female as you."

"Talara," she said through gritted teeth. "My name is Talara."

He dragged his gaze up, grinning at her. "Lovely name. Very Dirandan. Suits you."

"If you're going to address me, I'd prefer you use my name rather than 'Dirandan'

or 'pet'. I really hate being spoken to like a slave."

Damon snickered. "Well…" He tilted his head to the side. "If I was still Legion, I'd probably already have subdued and collared you by now… but we'll play it your way. 'Talara' it is. For now." He winked. "You'll probably change your mind eventually. They always have in the past."

She swallowed hard then. "Your Dirandan slaves?"

Damon nodded, though his smile seemed to have become slightly chill. "Yes.

My slaves. I only took Dirandan slaves."

Talara looked at him a moment, trying to figure out that reaction. "Why?"

"Because Dirandans make the best slaves, of course. They're the smartest, the most attractive and the most fun to play with. They enjoy sex in a way no other slave race does. And I don't take slaves who hate sex. As a rule." Then he did frown, his eyes narrowing. "Rather, I didn't. Damn the fucking Legion to Androl."

Talara's eyes widened at the Dirandan curse and she shook her head slightly.

"Ancestors, you are the most contradictory Rysusi I have ever met."

Damon regarded her coolly. "I'm not your typical Rysusi. Why else do you think they kicked me out?"

"The way I heard it, you left on your own, after taking several followers with you."

He shrugged. "Who are you going to believe? Your Directorate press as well as the Legion's have a rather nasty habit of twisting the facts until there is very little left of the truth."

Talara lowered the whip, hooking it back onto her utility belt.

He watched her with interest.

She sighed a little, eyeing him warily. "I think you're right. I'm probably stuck here until I can figure a way to get home on my own."

Damon cocked an eyebrow at her. "I rarely lie, pet."

She winced at the nickname, opening her mouth to protest but Damon reached out and put two warm fingers against her lips and she felt an electric jolt go through her at his touch. Her entire body stiffened and heat suffused her, enough to bring her nipples to hard little nubs beneath the skin-tight flight-suit. His gaze flickered down and then back to her face, with a wide, wicked grin. She flushed in embarrassment.

"Your body seems to have its' own opinion about me, pet ," he purred, deliberately stressing the word and she groaned softly, twitching.

She raised a hand, to push his own away from her mouth. The moment her fingers made contact with his arm, another jolt of heat lanced through her and she groaned. Even so, she pushed his hand from her.

"Don't," she protested in a low groan, "don't do that to me."

He chuckled. "Pet, I'm not doing anything to you. It's your own body's reaction, trust me. You want me, your brain just hasn't registered it yet."

She shook her head. "No. You must be doing something to me. Rysusi always do nasty mind tricks on Dirandans to get them to do what they want. You already said you wanted to have sex with me, so you're making me believe I want it too."

Damon shrugged. "I'm not. There's no way I can make you believe me, Talara.

I do want you – very much. But I'm not doing any kind of magic or Rysusi hypnosis. Your body reacts because I am what I am… and because you find me seductive…" He grinned. "I'd like to have a free Dirandan woman for once in my life. A woman who came to me of her own accord. Believe it or not, I'm not one for Dirandan cocktails."

She blinked at him. The closer he got to her, the harder she was finding it to control her breathing, or the trembling in her body. She extended a telepathic sensor, slowly, carefully, lowering her shield only enough to try to sense him, to see for herself if he was telling the truth.

Which he was.