NEVER SAY GOODBYE by Crystal Widow

As always, thanks to Rocky for the beta read.

Deacon’s Drift lay deep in the neutral zone between the floundering Systems Commonwealth and the newly united Nietzschean Prides. Once a haven for honest freighters, it had become a refuge for grifters, assassins, and whores of all races. In the uneasy peace since the destruction of the Commonwealth fleet, it had acquired a certain notoriety, becoming a favourite stopover point for both the desperate and the daring. It was said on the Commonwealth worlds that anything could be had there – if you were willing to pay the price.

Beka docked the Eureka Maru to the first available berth on the Drift, and quickly went about the business of securing her ship. A sense of urgency dogged her every move, she had to get off the Maru and find her brother. The message that brought her there had been imperious, but something about it struck her as desperate. "Deacon’s. Alone. Now. I’ll find you." It hadn’t been signed, but she knew. Rafe.

She had taken her ship and run. It didn’t matter that Rafe was an unrepentant scam artist; that he had let her down more times than she could count. He was her brother. He needed her—she went without a word to anyone. There was no doubt Rommie would tell Dylan where she had gone. Beka had no illusions about where that one’s loyalties lay. She had very little time before Dylan came after her. The captain would assume that she was in trouble and charge to her rescue. He always did, whether she wanted him to or not.

The sonofabitch did it to me again. This time I really will kill him. Beka stared resignedly at the spot where her ship had been just a few short hours ago. While she prowled the bars looking for him, her asshole brother had taken the Maru and left her stranded on Deacon’s Drift. Again. Fuck. I’ll have to tell Dylan.

Even the thought made her sick. He would be so damned smug, so sure of himself when he came to rescue her. She couldn’t face that. Not yet. Without further thought, she turned and walked deeper into the Drift. Beyond the quasi-respectable areas, along dimly lit corridors lay the aptly named Diversion Centre. The maze of dank hallways led to the bars and whorehouses where most of the true business went on behind closed doors. The area was alive with people at all hours, making it an ideal place to lose yourself for a while. It was perfect.

The Nubile Monk was one of the sleaziest nightclubs in the Diversion Centre, so of course it followed that Beka wound up there. The place was a meat market, not that she cared. She’d toured the clubs, having one drink in each. She’d managed to become quite gratefully drunk, and Dylan hadn’t found her yet. So far the evening was a surprising success. Better than the day had been, anyway.

More than a few of the bar’s male patrons sent appreciative glances her way, but she appeared oblivious. She sat alone, in what passed for a quiet corner, absently staring out across the dance floor. Her slender leather-clad legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankle with deceptive carelessness, and she watched the writhing bodies of the dancers through heavy-lidded eyes. A sea of sensuously undulating black leather, and it left her cold. She thought of Tyr then, as she always did, aching for what might have been.

Why couldn’t she just forget him? He’d made it more than clear that she was nothing to him, a mere kludge. He’d betrayed them all, destroying everything that they had worked so hard to build. Enough. Time to give herself a break and move on. Deliberately, she let her eyes wander over the men leaning against the bar on the other side of the dance floor. It was a veritable banquet of broad shoulders, rock-hard leather clad thighs, and round muscular butts. Her gaze travelled down the length of the bar, never rising above their necks. She wasn’t interested in their faces. Not tonight. Sex, fast and rough, nothing personal.

She perused them one by one, taking her time, willing herself to make a choice. It was more difficult than it should have been—at least until she reached the last man at the bar. She knew those thighs, had dreamed about them for months. It couldn’t be, not here. Suspending disbelief, she let her eyes travel a little higher to find firmly chiselled abs half hidden by a chain mail shirt. It is him. But how? And why here? Had he seen her?

She had to know. Moistening her lips slightly, she steeled herself to look up. Picking up her beer, she raised it to her mouth. As she tilted her head to drain it, she raised her eyes to his face. It was Tyr, as she had known it would be. His eyes burned into her, smouldering with a hungry fire. She watched in fascination as he pushed away from the bar and walked toward her, his regard never wavering.

His eyes held her transfixed, unable to move. Every fibre of her being cried out for flight from the danger she saw there, but it was far too late for that. He was beside her, reaching for her hand. He drew her from her seat, and onto the dance floor just as the band started a new song. The melody was soft and haunting, with a slow sensual beat that resonated within her. Refusal never entered her mind as he drew her close and began to move to the music.

Everywhere they touched burned with a feverish warmth, igniting a fire inside her. The press of bodies on the dimly lit dance floor only added to the tension sparking between them as they swayed gently against each other. He filled her senses; drowning any resistance she may have offered in a torrent of desire. Tilting her head back, Beka looked up at him, meeting his eyes. The naked yearning she saw in them made her tremble, reflecting her own need as it did.

Without a word, he leaned in feathering kisses against the column of her throat, eliciting an involuntary gasp from her. A heavy warmth flared within her, settling in her groin, as his left hand skimmed her side and came to rest over her breast. She locked her arms around his neck and arched her back, pressing herself more firmly into his caress. Tyr growled low in his throat and kissed her then, gently tugging at her lower lip with his teeth. His thumb circled her nipple, burning a trail of fire through her thin top and she felt a familiar rush of dampness begin to pool between her thighs.

Her breathing was becoming steadily more erratic, as Tyr’s hand moved slowly back to her waist. Looking her in the eyes, he drew her more tightly to him. Beka could feel the hardness of his arousal, pressing against her intimately. There was a slumberous quality to his gaze as he began to move her against him in slow, torturous circles. She was losing all semblance of control, her breath coming in short pants, her thighs clenching in anticipation. He groaned, an odd strangled groan, lifted her off the floor, and thrust hard against her.

The sound he made was strangely erotic, echoing within her, going straight to her core. It gathered speed along the way, exploding the passion that raged within her. She ground against him heedlessly, the crowd around them forgotten as an orgasm wracked her. It was all she could do not to cry out. As she shuddered with her release, he let her slide down the length of him until her feet touched the floor.

Beka tried to pull away from him then, but Tyr refused to allow it. One hand splayed across the small of her back holding her to him. The other tangled in her hair, pulling her head back so he could kiss her again. She knew he could feel the tremors that still shook her, knew that he was harder than ever against her. They rocked together for a moment longer as the song ended, then he guided her toward the door. A covert glance at the other dancers told her that nobody seemed to be aware of what had just happened.

Outside, in the dark corridor, Tyr finally spoke. His voice was harsh, rough with emotion. "I had to see you again. I had to know how you tasted, what it would be like to hold you in my arms. I can’t get you out of my mind." His eyes searched her face for a moment then he looked away. "You won’t come with me will you?"

"To be a lowly kludge in your budding empire? No, I won’t." Beka’s voice was low, distraught. "I can’t, Tyr, and you know that."

"I know it." He repeated her words slowly, unwillingly. "I’m sorry about your ship. Your brother should have it back by now."

"What?!" Beka felt anger boiling up inside her. He had manipulated her, and she had been so glad to see him that she had played right along. The bastard.

"Would you have come if I had called?" He looked at her, reading the answer in her eyes. "I thought not." He paused a moment, then spoke softly. "Would you now?"

"I don’t know. Maybe. If I could." Dylan will never let you go to him. Realization dawned then, washing away the remnants of her anger. "It might be better to use Rafe again."

He was about to speak again when Dylan rounded a corner in the corridor, and began to run toward them. Dammit. The man had no sense of timing. Tyr caressed her cheek gently, then slipped away into the shadows.

"I will never say good-bye."

Tyr’s last words echoed in her ears even as Dylan called her name. An infinitesimal smile touched her lips as she turned to greet her captain.

(c) 2004 M.C. Sak

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