Heart Fortune

into her, warming her all the way to her heart. Yes, he was her HeartMate, and his touch helped.

“Just tell the story,” he said. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and folded his hands over his flat stomach, stretched out his feet and began . . .

The blood pulsed hot and fast through him again. He lived. He’d survived, and he was on his way to a new home and future. Even with his eyes shut in the cryonics tube, Netra Sunaya Hoku sensed the thrust of the starship through endless starry space . . .

Glyssa stared. “Where did you learn to do that?”

He shrugged. “When you’re in the wilds around campfires with folk, most don’t carry vizes or recording disks. We tell stories.”

She could feel her eyes round. “Saved! I’m saved!” Hopping up she hugged him hard, noted he stiffened and withdrew, too happy to care that he hadn’t wanted her touch.

“Will you help me? I’ll give you the recording of the transcription of his journals. You can tell the story, and I can write it.” She glanced at his surprised face. “I’ll be deeply, deeply grateful. And, of course, I will give you credit as the author.”

“Of course you would.” His brows lowered as if in consideration. He shifted, shook his head. “I don’t know how to write, either.” His hands flexed, then he shook his head. “I don’t think I want people thinking I wrote stuff. I don’t want the credit.”

Lepid whined.

Jace said, “But I’ll help you. Show me what you’ve got.”

She handed him the first pages of the transcription of Hoku’s journals to read and he moved to a more comfortable chair.

She went to her desk and wrote down the first lines he’d reeled off.

When he looked up again, she read them back. “Sound good?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

“You don’t think he’d be lonely? He signed on alone, none of his family came with him, whatever family he had.”

“Why would he be lonely? It’s an adventure! A damn fine adventure and away from those fliggers on Earth who wanted to kill people with psi . . . Flair.” Jace’s eyes gleamed.

Glyssa tilted her head. She read Hoku as a quiet, precise, serious sort of man, especially after the deaths he felt responsible for. But giving him a little of Jace’s joie de vivre . . . why not? . . . especially in the beginning. Who’s to say he didn’t have that quality? Her own writing didn’t completely reflect her, either.

“As for family,” Jace said. “Plenty of time for that later. Right now he’s concentrating on being a starship pilot.” He smiled and his expression looked distant again.

“Yes,” she said. One last time she read Jace’s opening aloud. “It is good.” She aimed her writestick at him. “Tell the story.”

He did and she wrote it down. Then she sighed. “I can’t pass this off as my own work for the FirstLevel PublicLibrarians.”

He sent her an unbelieving stare, narrowed his eyes. “You said that earlier and you believe that.”

Offended and sitting up straight, she said, “Of course I do. Besides, your style isn’t mine. Everyone would know that.”

He shook his head, then rubbed his temples with his hand. “All right. Then tell the story yourself. You’ve got a mouth on you,” he said. “I’m thinking you’d feel better if you recorded the story.”

Her spine stiffened more. “I’ve tried and tried and I can’t. You can help me.” She wouldn’t mention Zem.

She didn’t have to. “You saved Zem’s life.” Jace nodded. “I like telling stories. I’ll do it.” He rolled a shoulder. “You tell your folks or not, as you please, and your friends, but nobody else needs to know I did this.”

After nibbling her lower lip, she said, “Maybe I can convince my Family to accept this, even though it isn’t solely my work. I know Camellia and Laev will.” She pushed the dark threat of her Family’s disapproval at her failure away. “We can do this.” She hoped.

* * *

He came to her that night in her lucid dreams, setting a hand on her shoulder and awaking her. She glanced up, saw him dressed only in a loincloth. She, of course, had her long sleep tunic on, old and soft.

“Glyssa,” he said.

Nineteen

Glyssa,” he repeated.

At least he knew who she was in dreams now.

He reached over and took a handful of her hair, fisted his fingers around it as if savoring the texture of the springy stuff.

“Your hair feels like no other’s.”

Since even in dreams grimaces weren’t romantic, she fixed a pleasant expression on her face. Her smile curved naturally as she noted his sex stirring. Old nightrobe or not, she tossed the sheet away and stood before him, thinking she could smell the spicy musk of him as if this was no dream.

He looked down at her, his smile spreading as he touched one of her tight nipples beneath the sagging cloth. He took a step back to scan her and her nightwear. She’d always come to him in the sexiest clothes that she thought would arouse him.

“Interesting,” he said.

She would not blush in her own dream—all right, their shared dream.

Now he cupped her breasts, his big hands covering her modest gifts. She shifted as her lower body began to ache for completion. She wanted sex. She wanted loving, too, but she’d settle for fiery sex.

She wanted him.

“Are you sure you want to lay—play with me?” she asked softly. “You’ve been angry with me.”

He shrugged. “That doesn’t seem important now.”

Letting her vulnerability show, she said, “I don’t want you to regret this.”

Another shrug. “Too much talking.”

All right, then. He’d been stroking her breasts. Her turn. She reached out and laid her hand on his shaft.

Jace jerked, probably because she’d never done that before. Giving him one long stroke, she stepped back and whipped off her sleepwear.

He liked her in clothing, seemed even interested in her regular night tunic. She preferred naked herself, but there might be something in this idea of arousing one’s partner while he was dressed. He wasn’t wearing much, but she was pleased to work with what she had.

Unable to stop her grin, she came in close, very close, until their bodies touched, her hips pressed tightly to him, her breasts flattened against his chest. She slid her arms around his neck, found his skin slightly damp. Even better.

He set his hands on her hips, didn’t go for squeezing her derriere. That would change soon. She took his mouth, running her tongue over his mouth and when he opened his lips, she plunged her tongue in to taste him. Nothing was like the taste of her man. She sucked his tongue, tangled her own with his, thrust and withdrew as she slowly rubbed her body against his, feeling his sex stiffen, enlarge. His hands moved to her bottom and she broke the kiss, took a pace back.

His pupils were dilated, lips redder from their kiss, his fingers flexed. Again she glided forward, reached for his cock behind his loincloth, stroked hard, down, then up, then down and cupped his balls.

Jace picked her up and threw her on her bedsponge, whipped off his loincloth and pounced.

Her body was ready, needy. She arched up, waiting for his first lunge, and his face set, his eyes wild, he thrust into her.