Morgan's Return by Greta van Der Rol Read Free Book Online

how it felt when you were an alien? Remember what I did to you? What I had to do?"
    She glared at him. He was right, but she'd already said she was sorry. What more could he want? "You hit me. I had finger marks on my face."
    Tossing his head, Ravindra let go of her. "That was nothing. Just a slap. For a Manesai woman it was little more than a tap. How was I to know you're fragile?"
    Ravindra's 'tap' had knocked her to the floor in the detention cell on his flagship. He'd never offered an apology, she'd never expected one, but it was nice to know he was almost embarrassed. One for her. Morgan tucked her shirt into her pants. "All right, it was stupid. I just don't like seeing women being beaten around. She's probably a prostitute because it's the only work she can get."
    Sighing, he shook his head. "You can't right the wrongs of every world. We're here to find out where my people came from. Kindly remember that."
    Morgan stared at him for a long moment, then placed a fist on her breast and bowed her head. " Srimana ." If he wanted to play admirals, she could play subordinates. Only he'd know she was playing.
    Ravindra’s eyes narrowed. Suppressing the urge to grin, she put her hands on her hips. "But while we're at it, I didn't much like being carted around like a naughty girl. Okay?"
    Ravindra snaked an arm around her waist, dragging her against his body while his fingers slid through her hair, sending tingles down her spine. His face was inches from hers, his eyes hot. "Oh, you try my patience." He murmured the words before his mouth descended on hers, parting her lips with his tongue, demanding. Morgan molded to him, her arms around his neck, inhaling his clean, spicy smell. The heat of anger morphed into the heat of desire.
    He tugged her shirt out of her trousers, then slid his hand up over her warm, bare skin. An ache of longing erupted in her groin, her nipples tightened.
    "I just had a shower," she managed to choke out.
    She felt his lips curve. "You can have another one. Later."
     
    ***
     
    G lass of water in hand, Ellen resumed her place on the sofa. Some basic detective work should solve this mystery. If the woman wasn't Selwood, who was she? Her cyber consciousness found the security system, and police headquarters, where she had just been. The police had bio-images of everyone legitimately on Iniciara, but that was seven billion images. She could filter by location, age, sex or anything else, but even so, the process would take time. Judging by the couple's clothes, they weren't locals. Maybe they were new arrivals to the planet. Ellen hoped so, she could makes matches with a few thousand images in a minute. Let's see, now. New arrivals. The images zoomed through her implant, a blur of data.
    Yes. Ellen punched the air. Marion Sefton. She rotated the image a few times, comparing with the grainy footage of the woman in the riot. No doubt about it. Marion Sefton, just arrived from Coromandel. She sighed with relief. Not Selwood. She'd had trouble two years ago, containing her glee when the news came that Selwood's ship had disappeared after leaving Belsun Space Station.
    What about the man, though? According to the notes, the man she was with was a retired Coromandel admiral. He looked like a dancer, wide shoulders, narrow hips, sculpted muscle. She wished some of the Star Fleet admirals looked like that. Not that it mattered; they weren't interested in her, anyway; not in that way. Ellen had never been able to understand why Selwood had to beat off senior officers with a stick. Oh, Selwood was good-looking enough, but she was a surly bitch. They all said so. Huh. Maybe they enjoyed a challenge.
    Ellen went over to the dresser, and poured a glass of wine, then lay down on the couch, and let the stirring opening bars of the overture to Hrabek's opera 'Armageddon' wash over her. Magnificent. Her spirits soared with the music. With Selwood back, she would have been relegated to the back room again. Admiral Makasa