DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters
are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are
the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2004 by Djinn. This
story is Rated R.
Urges
by Djinn
Kirk watched the landing party
mill around the ruins. They looked
bored. As bored as he felt. Scotty was muttering something to himself as
he walked by, studying his tricorder as if he hoped it
might find something interesting. Sulu
looked like he was thinking more about the upcoming fencing tournament--he
stood a good chance of taking first this year--than about what he was supposed
to be scanning for. The men and women
from security stood around, trying to look busy even though there was nothing
to guard or fight on this barren world.
"Why are we here,
sir?"
Kirk turned, saw Nurse Chapel
trying to suppress a yawn. Trying and
failing.
"Because, Ms. Chapel,
Starfleet Command told us to come here.
This planet is likely to be annexed by the Duralians. Command wants to make sure we're not giving
up anything strategic before we hand it over."
"Since when are ruins
considered strategic?" She seemed
to realize her tone wasn't the most respectful she'd ever used on him. "Sorry."
He shrugged.
"Then why am I
here?"
Kirk laughed. "Bones didn't want to come?"
"I'll buy
that." She sighed. "Okay, I'll go back to waiting for
someone to skin their knee." She
grinned at him. "Or maybe get a
blister or a splinter or anything."
"You've made your point,
Chris. Go back to work--err,
non-work."
She nodded, pulling out her
tricorder. "Might
as well make myself useful so we can get off this rock." She wandered off toward the security
detachment, nodding pleasantly at Spock as they passed.
"Captain, I am uncertain
what Starfleet hopes to ascertain by this exercise."
"They hope to ascertain
nothing, Spock. They've deemed this a
dead world. But two scans are better
than one, in this case. I guess they
just want us to confirm what they already know."
Spock seemed to be trying not
to yawn too. If this assignment even
bored a Vulcan, they really were epitomizing futile.
Kirk was about to say more
when he felt a chill come over him, as if someone had opened the door to a
refrigerated cargo bay. He shivered. "Strange breeze."
"Captain?" Spock looked
at him curiously.
"Just now, didn't you
feel it? Cold air--like it had been
hyper-chilled."
"I felt nothing like
that, Jim."
Kirk rubbed his arms, trying
to warm up.
"Perhaps you should go
back to the ship?" Spock looked
like he wished he'd thought of pretending to come down with a case of the
chills to get out of shore duty. "I
will take over here."
Kirk made a face. "I don't need to go up to the ship,
Spock." Then he laughed. "I want to go up there, but I don't need
to."
"As
you wish." Spock motioned for Chapel to come over. "Please scan the captain to determine if
there is any reason for him to feel chilled."
"There's a cold draft
here, Spock. Can't you feel
it?" She saw his face and smiled. "I guess not. Okay, I'll scan him." She waited for Spock to leave before asking,
"Was it like you'd just walked into cold storage?"
He nodded.
"Me
too. I better see if anyone else noticed
it." She looked up from her
tricorder. "Nothing physically
wrong with you, sir. No medical reason
for the chills."
"Good to know,
Chris." He motioned toward the
others. "Check them out. I'm going to walk around to warm up." He rubbed at his arms again, felt a shiver
run down his spine. What the hell was
wrong with him? Then he noticed Chapel's
expression was off too. "It just
happened again. And you felt it too,
didn't you?"
She met his eyes,
nodded. Her expression was more puzzled
than concerned. "I'll go scan the
others, sir."
He nodded, watching her go
first to Scotty, who shook his head as she talked to him. She scanned the engineer then glanced back at
Kirk, shaking her head slightly before moving on to Sulu.
Kirk watched her as she
walked from crewman to crewman--had her legs always been so long? Regulation boots looked terrific on her.
"Jim?" Spock looked over at Chapel, as if to see
what had his captain so fascinated.
"Are you all right?"
Kirk wanted to tell him that
just because Spock didn't want to look at her didn't mean he couldn't. Except that he couldn't--or shouldn't. She was a member of his crew. He did not admire the legs of members of his
crew. Or at least not obviously enough
for his first officer to figure out what he was doing.
He turned to Spock, smiling
easily. "I'm fine, Spock. Why do you ask?" He knew his look dared Spock to make
something of his sudden interest in Chapel's legs.
"A momentary
concern," Spock said softly, then walked away.
Kirk smiled, feeling a bit
like a teenager. He looked over at
Chapel again, was surprised when she seemed to sneak a look at him too. She appeared to be embarrassed that he'd
caught her looking because she blushed and looked away.
He felt the chill again, less
strong this time, and rubbed at his arms absently.
"Sir," Sulu said as
he closed his tricorder with a snap.
"There's nothing here."
Scotty looked up and
nodded. "Aye,
sir. We've got more than enough
data to back that assessment up. This
planet is a wasteland, just as the first survey team indicated."
"All right," Kirk
said, glad to be getting off the dust ball--the Duralians
could have it with his blessing.
"Let's get out of here."
As soon as the team took
their places near him--and they did that with record speed, he noticed--he
called for beam out. The
As the rest of the landing
party began to file out, he looked over at Chapel and saw her rub her
arms. "Nurse?"
Both she and Spock turned
around.
"I wasn't aware you were
a nurse, Mister Spock."
"I am not. But if this has to do with the chill you were
feeling, then I am interested in what you have to say to Nurse Chapel."
A wave of frustration surged through
Kirk. Spock needed to go away. He needed to go away now.
The chill came over him
again, but this time it felt good. He
saw that Chapel was staring at him, her mouth open just the slightest bit. He suddenly wondered what her lips would feel
like under his own. He realized Spock
was talking. "What?"
"Captain, I said that
perhaps you should be checked out by Doctor McCoy--"
"--Good
idea, Spock. I'll go with Nurse Chapel." He shot Spock his best "don't worry
about me, I'm fine" grin.
Spock didn't look convinced,
but he didn't follow them. As Kirk
entered the lift behind Chapel, he said, "I don't want to go to
sickbay."
She didn't look at him until
the doors had closed. "I don't
either, sir." She was moving toward
him, and her eyes were dark, nearly all pupil.
He wondered if his were in
the same state. "Hold lift,"
he told the computer, as he pushed her against the wall, kissing her
frantically.
It had been so long since
they'd touched...
Before he could analyze that
thought, she moaned, rubbing up against him frantically.
He pulled her closer. Her lips felt great under his. Just like they always had--
--Just like they always had
when? He'd never kissed her before. Frowning, he pulled away from her. "I'm sorry. I had no right to do that."
She was touching her lips, as
if not quite believing he'd kissed her.
Her eyes were blue again; the pupils had gone back to their normal
size. "It's all right." Her voice was low, and she moved away from
him, closer to the door, as if ready to run out of the lift.
"I won't hurt you."
Looking up at him, she seemed
to shiver. "It's not you I'm afraid
of, sir." She looked down. "Spock was right. McCoy needs to examine both of us."
"I'm not sure it's very flattering
that you think we need to have our heads examined just for kissing." Winking at her, he tried to make the moment
light, to pretend that he had not just made out with a member of his crew for
no reason except that it felt so damn good.
He could still feel her lips
under his, her mouth opening to let him in.
He shuddered with cold...and with desire. He wanted her...wanted her badly. He'd never wanted her before. Why now?
She was staring at the floor
as if salvation lay somewhere buried away under their feet.
"Am I your type,
Chris?"
She shook her head. "I know I'm not yours either."
"I wasn't aware I had a
type."
She looked up, met his
eyes. "Brainy,
beautiful, commanding. I may have
one of those characteristics." She
looked down again. "I'm not
stupid. But the rest..."
"You're not exactly ugly
either."
She met his eyes; her smile
didn't quite make it. "I'm
attractive. On a good day maybe I'm
pretty. But beautiful? Huh-uh." She scanned him, as if desperate for
something to do. "And I'm hardly
commanding."
The lift doors opened, saving
him from answering.
She smiled at him as he
gestured for her to go first. "It's
okay, sir. I don't have a lot of
illusions about myself."
"Maybe you do about
me."
She seemed to have nothing to
say to that.
--------------
"Well, Jim, I can't find
anything wrong." McCoy entered
something into a padd, scanning him again and crosschecking against the
tricorder Chapel was holding. "Nothing wrong with either of you, as far as I can tell."
They hadn't told him about
what had happened in the lift. They
hadn't discussed keeping it from him, but neither of them had volunteered any
information on their sudden need to lock lips.
"Then I'm cleared for
duty, Bones?" Kirk asked as he hopped off the table. The movement brought him close to Chapel, and
she moved away quickly.
"You weren't ever off
duty, my friend." McCoy hadn't
noticed how fast Chapel had moved away, or that Kirk's hand had come up,
reaching for her.
Chapel didn't miss it though;
she fled into her office.
"Something
else wrong with her?" McCoy apparently didn't miss as much as Kirk
thought he had. "Did something
happen--or not happen--with Spock down on the planet?"
Kirk felt an irrational surge
of jealousy. Why did it have to be
something to do with Spock? Couldn't she
be upset over Kirk?
That was a stupid thing to
think.
"No," he said,
keeping his voice as casual as he could.
"I'm sure she's fine."
He wanted to make sure she
was. Perhaps he should invite her to his
quarters later?
"Jim, maybe you should
stay here. You seem a little off."
"I'm not sure I buy the
medical validity of a diagnosis of 'a little off,' Bones." It was a lie.
He bought it; he just didn't like it.
Not when his shift was almost over, and he had very private quarters
that he could invite Chris to visit him in--
He headed for the door,
shooting McCoy the same grin that had failed to convince Spock. McCoy looked just as non-impressed. "I'll come back if I notice any other
symptoms. I promise."
He tried not to look at
Chapel as he left. He failed, and was
gratified to see that she was staring at him too, a look of open longing on her
face. She suddenly seemed aware of how
she was looking at him. Her face flushed
an interesting shade of red, and she turned away quickly.
Hurrying out of sickbay, he
forced himself not to think of her as he headed for the lift that would take
him to the Bridge.
Spock looked up as he walked
to his chair.
"I'm fine,
Spock." Kirk took the padd a young yeoman
handed him.
She was new, very pretty in a
bubbly "I'm twenty and you're not" way. Kirk realized he wasn't particularly drawn to
her, didn't feel the need to walk her back to the turbolift and join her inside
for a kissing fest.
So it was just Chapel he
wanted?
Damned odd. Not that she wasn't a nice woman. She was.
But he'd only ever thought about her as nice, not as someone he
wanted. This sudden desire for her
didn't make sense. He glanced over at
Spock. Normally, he'd discuss such odd behavior
with his first officer, but somehow it seemed like a betrayal of Chapel to
discuss this with someone who he knew she had a crush on.
He realized his hands were
clenched and forced himself to relax. So
she had a crush? On
his best friend. So what? She'd had it for years. It was nothing new.
Why did it suddenly bother
him?
His shift wore on and
on. Pushing himself out of his chair, he
wandered the bridge, finally ending up beside Uhura, talking quietly with her
about the incoming comms. She was an attractive woman. Why didn't he want her?
Why the hell was Chapel the
only woman he could think about?
He forced himself to go to
the mess hall with Spock and Bones. It
took a few minutes, but he finally felt himself relaxing and enjoying the meal
with his two best friends. They sat
around talking long after their food was gone, until he picked up his tray and
stood. "Much as I hate to bring
this to an end, gentleman, I must."
Riding the lift with them, he
laughed at something Spock said that he probably did not intend to be funny but
was. As they turned into their
respective quarters, he bid them goodnight, continuing his walk down the
corridor. Palming open his door, he
found the lights on about one-quarter strength.
"Computer, raise lights
to--"
"--Don't."
He whirled. Chapel was sitting at his desk. Even in the low light, he could tell that she
looked miserable.
A wave of cold swept over
him, then a wave of a different kind. Raw, hot lust.
And something less raw, more
tender. Love. He loved her.
He had always loved her.
He felt suddenly
disoriented. "Get out, Chris."
She stood,
her face so full of the same need he was feeling that he almost went to
her. She swallowed hard and must have
seen something in his face that seemed to give her resolve. She bit back her desire, and then she fled.
He held out a hand to her,
wanted to call her back, but the words wouldn't come. He settled for locking the door, temporarily
restricting her medical override access to his quarters. The computer tried to argue with him, but he
won the debate. Chris couldn't get into his quarters again without his
knowledge or permission. She couldn't
get to him.
That thought left him feeling
strangely bereft.
---------------------
His dreams were strange. He walked through an ornate structure, paying
no attention to the beauty that surrounded him.
He'd been off world for a week. Was home early because he'd missed her so. Now he was looking for her, but she was
nowhere.
He walked and walked and finally
turned a corner. A wave of chill hit
him. He felt love surround him, then the
cold again. He started to cry, wiped his
eyes and told himself to get hold of his emotions. Nothing was wrong. Why should he think something was wrong? Why should he think something terrible had
happened...to her?
Then he heard her weeping
from somewhere close beside him, but when he whirled to pull her to him, she
wasn't there. Where was she? He felt another chill roll through him, shuddered
from the intensity of the feelings that came over him, as if he'd been taken
into her arms and had her love poured into him.
Love and fear and some strange kind of forgiveness
that he didn't understand.
"Come out," he
yelled but there was no one there, although the feeling of her being near him
didn't go away.
His need to find her
increased in the face of this strange communion with no one. He hurried through the house, running
now. She must be there. Somewhere she was waiting for him as she did
every night.
He ran back into his
bedroom. It was the first place he had
checked, but this time he walked all the way into it and saw a man--one of the
guards, probably, except that he was not wearing a uniform--lying on his back
on the far side of the bed, a weapon's exit burn clear on his back. Someone had held the gun on him a long time
to get the burn to go through his chest and out his back.
Someone had been very angry.
He noticed that the door to
the courtyard was open. His heart sank when
he saw a dark lump lying in the shadows of the courtyard outside the
bedroom. "No." The sound came out broken. No. It
could not be.
He ran to the pile of
clothes, praying that one of the servants had dropped some old rags there by
accident.
But these were not old
rags. They were fine fabrics, made dark
with the blood that had flowed out of the slashed throat of the woman he'd been
searching for. She must have run, must
have tried to get away when the guard had been killed. Must have run and not made it. Whoever had done this had caught her before
she could get to the gate and raise the alarm.
Her blood was still
warm. She had not been dead long. Why hadn't she screamed? He would have come running. If she'd just screamed.
"No," he cried, as
he cradled her to him, uncaring of the blood that covered him now too. His
heart broke as he held her. His love for
her burst inside him, filling him--nearly drowning him. He knew in his heart that he would never be
all right again. And that he would never
stop looking for her.
Guilt flooded him.
"No." This time the word came out as a scream. A scream that woke Kirk. He sat up in bed, heart pounding in his
chest. Calling for lights, he was
surprised to see the room go blurry around him and reached up to brush at his
eyes.
He was crying?
It was just a dream. An odd, unsettling dream. But nothing more than that.
Suddenly, his chime
rang. "Come," he said.
Chapel rushed in. She looked wild, her hair mussed, her clothes
akimbo as if she had pulled them on halfway and then run from her room. As she stood near his door, breathing fast,
he realized she was crying too.
She moved in closer, and her
pupils went black, and cold seemed to fill the room. "I think I died," she said, the
words squeaking out of her past the sobs that she seemed unable to
control. "I don't even know who I
was, or even if it's me. But I think I
died."
He felt sorrow roll over him,
and guilt. Deep,
abiding guilt. This was his
fault. He'd brought her there, he'd been the one who'd--
--What in the hell was he
talking about? She wasn't dead. She was right in front of him.
Right in
front of him and slowly pulling her shirt off. "I'm so
cold," she said.
He wondered why she thought taking
off her clothes would help with that.
Then he quit wondering about anything as she pulled off her bra, her
breasts spilling out. The rest of her
clothes followed, and he forgot how to breathe. He realized suddenly that he was naked
too. Why had he gone to bed naked?
"I'm cold," she
said again, shivering slightly.
He held the sheet up, the
invitation clear as he patted the space next to him. She nearly ran to him, settling into his bed,
her skin freezing against his own.
He must warm her up.
Under his hands, her body
lost its chill, her lips turned soft and fiery as he kissed her. When he pushed himself into her, he found the
core of her hot and strong. She pulled him
closer, and he moaned loudly.
How long had it been since
they'd been together?
He had a sudden vision. Her but not her. Held in his arms, blood everywhere, neck
slashed viciously.
"Chris," he moaned,
even as another name echoed in his mind.
A name he couldn't quite make out.
She cried out, her head
thrown back, her legs tightening around him as she clenched and shuddered. He kissed her as she floated down, his body
still moving against her, causing her to shudder again as he rubbed against
too-sensitive parts.
He wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop. She arched as he pushed her harder. Her arms tightened around him, the feeling so
familiar he almost wept as he went to the same pleasurable place he'd sent her
to.
"I love you," he
said, and the words seemed to echo strangely in the room. He was suddenly fully aware that he was
having sex with a woman he'd only ever had a casual friendship with before.
Actually, he was having great
sex with her. But still, it wasn't as if
there was any precedent for this closeness.
She didn't even call him Jim.
Probably wasn't sure what the hell to call him now.
He tried to pull away, but
her legs still held him in place.
"Chris?"
She seemed to snap back to
full awareness, her pupils no longer threatening to swallow her eyes. Her hands on his back seemed to shake, and she
unwrapped her legs quickly, pushing him off her.
He suddenly felt hurt, knew
it was irrational, but couldn't get rid of the feeling. Would she prefer it if
she'd been having sex with Spock?
He pushed the thought aside.
She rolled to her side, hiding
herself from him. But her bare back was
temptation enough. He found himself
reaching out to touch her, to stroke her and rub her and try to make her feel
better.
She groaned as he massaged
her back, finally said, "What just happened?"
"We had sex."
She laughed at that, and the
sound of her laughter was a relief to him.
"I know that, sir. But why?" She
slowly turned over, holding the sheet in place so it covered her.
He had the sudden urge to
yank the sheet down. They'd just had
sex. Covering up now seemed a little
stupid.
She stared at him, her
expression going from confused to helpless.
"Something's wrong. I want you so badly." She seemed to realize what she'd said. "Let me rephrase that a bit."
"Please do," he
said, moving closer to her despite the inner voice that whispered that it might
not be a good idea to press his body to hers if he wasn't intending to have sex
with her again in the very near future.
She tried again. "I mean that--"
He kissed her and pulled the
sheet away. He didn't know why he was so
drawn to her. And suddenly, he didn't
care.
She didn't seem to care
either, crawling on top of him, riding him and controlling him and finally
collapsing onto him. "I lost
you," she said, her voice full of a sadness he knew he had never caused
her.
Yet her words were true. She had lost him and he had lost her. And now they were together again.
"I love you," she
whispered.
Again he was back in that
courtyard, cradling her body, kissing her face.
A face that looked nothing like the Chapel he knew, but that didn't stop
him from tracing the contours of her face and comparing it to that hazy
memory. Chapel was as familiar as air
and sunshine. And she was a complete
mystery to him.
She smiled lazily as he touched
her, her eyes soft and sleepy, and he smiled.
"You may not think you're beautiful, but you look beautiful right
now."
Her smile grew, then it faded as he sighed and dropped his hand.
What the hell were they
doing?
She opened her eyes. "Do you want me to go?" Her voice was very small, and she couldn't
meet his eyes.
He knew he should say
yes. Whatever was making them want each
other, it wasn't right. But instead of
answering her, he rolled them both to their sides, wrapped his arms around her,
and kissed her gently until she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
He watched her for a few
minutes, trying to separate the strange mournful yearning he felt for her from
the true affection he had for his head nurse.
It was impossible to pull the feelings apart. She was just a member of his crew, and she
was also the woman he loved more than life itself.
He finally told himself to
stop thinking and get some rest--they'd sort this out in the morning. He followed her into sleep, finding her warm
body pressed close to his a huge comfort.
------------
In his sleep, Kirk fought the
pull of another dream, his conscious mind trying to maintain control. He could feel Chris lying next to him, could
hear her moaning. But he also felt as if
he was falling into an endless pit, and he wondered if he would die when he
finally hit bottom, or if he would just know the truth.
He hit bottom and he did not
die. Nor did he wake up. He lay trapped for a moment, somewhere in
between, lying on his back in the beautiful house his
mind insisted on identifying as his own.
The house was cold, winter had set in, causing the marble, which was never
warm even in the heat of summer, to turn frigid. He felt as if he was being frozen alive.
Then he heard her voice. She was calling to him. Somewhere deep in his unconscious mind, he
realized it was Chapel calling out for him.
He'd probably roused her as he'd fought the pull of the dream, and her hands
moved along his back as if to soothe him.
In the dream, Kirk pushed himself
off the floor, walking quickly to the bedroom he shared with her. He shivered as he walked, remembering a
conversation with his best friends. They
did not like her. They did not want her
here. She was an outsider, an offworlder. Yes, she
was beautiful, but her ways were strange.
Dangerous.
She was causing trouble for them, and therefore for him.
They wanted him to send her
away.
He could never send her away.
Kirk tried to remember her
name. Not Chris. Chris was next to him. But this woman who some other part of him
loved, what was her name?
"Melanya," Chapel
murmured, as if tied into his dream.
He felt her push him to his
back and climb on top of him. The real
woman was making love to him even as he pushed the door open and saw the other
woman standing naked at the window, looking out at the courtyard. She turned as he walked in. Turned and walked quickly to him. There were tears in her eyes as she stripped
his clothes off, as she pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. He could hear Chapel crying too, could taste
her tears as he pulled her down to kiss him.
As she moved over him, he had
a spark of vision. He saw himself,
playing football back in
This was home--his home. Summers were hot and dry, not hot and
humid. He knew this place. He ruled this place.
No, he was in command, but he
did not rule. The
"Kellor," Chapel
said softly, moaning as she moved faster.
"I am here, my love,"
someone older seemed to answer her--from deep inside Kirk's consciousness. "I have come for you."
"No!" Kirk forced himself awake, forcing her off
him, trying to get this presence out of him by will alone.
He'd pushed her too hard, and
she slid off the bed, landing with a loud thump. He wanted to help her but was having too much
trouble catching his breath. The room
was freezing, the chill no longer just a draft, but an all-pervading cold that
seemed to leech into his bones.
It threatened to freeze him.
Chapel pulled herself up and
hurried to her clothes. "This isn't
right. Something's very wrong."
"They're inside
us," he said, but she didn't seem to understand.
He got out of bed, careful to
walk far around her as he grabbed some clothes. "Go to sickbay. I'll join you there with Spock and
Bones." He couldn't look at
her. Was afraid he'd grab her and hold
her and make love to her and forget how terrified he had just been.
He was afraid he would forget
that someone--Kellor, whoever he was--had almost taken him over.
"Jim," she saw his
look, seemed to realize he had not told her she could call him that. "Sir," she tried again. "If you want to put me on report, I won't
fight--"
"--What I want is for
you to get out of my quarters." It
came out much too harsh.
Her face was very red. "I'll be in sickbay," she said
quickly as the doors closed behind her.
He thought the room would
warm up when she left, but if anything the temperature seemed to drop even
more. He felt an overwhelming urge to go
after her, to grab her up in his arms and never lose her again.
He walked into the head,
splashed water on his face. Warm water, warm and completely ineffective in chasing the cold
away.
He'd never lost Chapel. What the hell was going on?
"Kirk to Spock," he
said, punching his intercom.
Spock answered quickly,
probably up late working. "Spock here."
"Can you come with me to
sickbay? I think we have a
problem."
"I will meet you in the
corridor." No questions asked. He needed Spock; Spock was there. It was how it worked. Probably one of the reasons Chapel had fallen
in love with the Vulcan.
Chapel...his mind derailed
when he thought of her. So he had to not
think of her. Or of
her and Spock together.
Would she ride the Vulcan the
same way she had him? Controlling
him, bringing him such intense pleasure.
Was she doing it now? Having sex
with Spock?
That was ridiculous. He'd just talked to Spock, and Chapel had
just left him. They weren't together.
But they could be. How long had he been standing here? She might have gone directly to Spock's
quarters. She might be on top of him
now, laughing as Kirk talked to him.
They could be doing it. After
all, how long did it take to fu--
He shook his head, this time
splashing cold water on his face. It
didn't help. "Kirk
to McCoy."
It took McCoy a lot longer to
answer. "What is it, Jim?"
"I need you in
sickbay. Meet Spock and me in the
corridor."
"I'm on my
way." Bones never asked why, not
when it was important, not when Kirk had this tone in his voice.
Kirk wondered if Chapel loved
Bones too. Another surge of jealousy
rolled over him. What in the hell was
wrong with him? She could be in love
with whomever she wished. She could
screw the entire crew if she wanted. It
didn't matter to him. She didn't matter
to him.
Except she
did matter to him. He thought about Spock and her together, and
felt pure rage erupt. He wanted to
throttle Spock, wanted to shoot him and keep shooting until he didn't come
up. And Chris? He wanted to lay her down on the soft grass
and make love to her one last time--violent, passionate love--and then pull out
his knife and slip it along her lovely throat--
The chime brought him
back. He was clenching his hands on the
counter so hard he could feel the edge digging into his skin. When he let go and turned his palms over, he
had dark red streaks where the material had bit in.
He turned, walking to the
door. Both Spock and McCoy were waiting
for him. "Let's go,
gentlemen," he said, trying desperately to keep his voice normal.
But his voice shook as he
spoke, and he saw Spock look over at McCoy.
Ignoring them, Kirk hurried to sickbay, secure that they would follow
him.
------------
Sickbay was deserted as they
walked in, the lights all set low except for the one in Chapel's office.
"We need her," Kirk
said, motioning for one of the others to go get her. He turned away from the
light.
"Is there a reason you
cannot get her?" Spock asked, glancing over at the lit office, then back
at Kirk.
"Just go get her,
Spock."
As Spock moved to do what he
said, McCoy touched his arm. Shaking his
head, the doctor said, "I'd like to see you do it, Jim."
Sighing, Kirk walked over to
the office. Chapel wasn't working, she
was just sitting, staring at a screen she hadn't even
turned on. She turned to look at him,
and her eyes were dry, but her face reddened under his scrutiny.
Then she seemed to realize
the others were behind him, and she sat up straighter, forced the miserable
look off her face. "Sir?"
"Come out." His voice was gentle, giving no hint, he
hoped, that he wanted to clear her desk and push her down on it and make love
to her again.
She took a hand he hadn't
realized he held out for her, and they both gasped as their skin touched.
"Fascinating,"
Spock said.
"I think it's her,"
Kirk lied, not sure why he was doing it.
He dropped her hand quickly.
"You touch her, Spock."
Chapel's expression turned
from lost to betrayed.
"Sir, no."
"Touch her, dammit."
Spock's eyebrow rose, but he
reached out for her. Her hand was lost
in his, and Kirk had a sudden picture of parts of Spock being lost in her.
"I feel nothing out of
the ordinary," Spock said, letting go of her.
The look Chapel threw Spock
was full of gratitude, and it grated on Kirk's nerves like sandpaper.
"Nothing
out of the ordinary? Then you are accustomed to touching
her?" He smiled,
sure he'd caught them in the lie.
"What is wrong with
you?" Chapel asked, shivering violently as the temperature in the room
plummeted.
"That's a damned good
question," McCoy said, pulling Kirk away from her. "You stay with her, Spock. I'll check out Jim."
"No. Don't leave her with him. Not with him."
"Jim, calm down. Spock's not going to do anything to her. Not if he hasn't already." McCoy was trying to joke, but it wasn't
funny. It had never been funny.
Kirk tried to watch them as
McCoy ran the scanner over him.
"But that's just it. He only
pretends not to like her. He only says
to send her away to pull suspicion off of himself. So I won't know how he really feels about
her."
McCoy was staring at
him. "I gotta
tell you. You're not making a lot of
sense."
The temperature in the room
dropped again, and Kirk recalled the late night conversations with his
friends. Get rid of Melanya, they'd told
him. Send her home. "You've heard him. At our dinners. He doesn't think she's good for the
planet."
"Okay, I'm relieving you
of duty until I've found out what's going on."
Chapel suddenly pushed past
Spock. She wore a look Kirk had never
seen on her face, but the other, deeper part of him remembered it from
innumerable fights. Hard. She could be so damned hard. "Your lack of trust will be what
destroys us, Kellor. Not me."
McCoy sighed. "I'm relieving both of you. Just in case I didn't make
that clear."
It didn't seem to make any
impression on Chapel. She started to
walk toward him, but Spock caught her by the arm. "No," he said, as he kept her from
Kirk.
Kirk stared at where Spock's
fingers were leaving marks in Chapel's arm as she struggled. "Let go of her. Don't touch her."
Spock did not let go of
her. His voice was perfectly even as he
asked, "Or you will do what?"
He took hold of Chapel's other shoulder with his free hand, pulled her
back toward him.
Kirk saw her relax, and
something snapped inside him. He was
back in his house, walking down the corridor, eager to see her after a week
away. He'd come back early to surprise her.
"I'm home," he
said, just as he had when he opened the door to their room.
She looked up at him, her
face suffused with the flush of many climaxes.
His friend was underneath her, his eyes closed, his smile huge as he
took his best friend's woman. A woman who did not belong to him.
It was that moment all over
again. Only this time he wouldn't stand
in shock staring while they separated and frantically pulled on their
clothes. This time he wouldn't listen as
his friend tried to explain, wouldn't care that his woman just stared at him
with her hard, hard glare.
"Damn you," Kirk
yelled, launching himself at both of them.
He reached for a weapon he hadn't worn for more than five thousand
years.
Spock pushed Chapel out of
the way, caught Kirk as he tried to put his hands around Spock's throat.
"I'll kill you,"
Kirk said, but Spock was already moving his hand to the neck pinch spot.
"One touch and you know
what will happen," Spock said, his voice
unruffled. As if it was everyday that
Kirk attacked him.
Kirk felt the cold subside
inside him. "God, Spock. What...?"
Chapel was watching him with
an odd look. "You wouldn't keep
me. You were too afraid to keep
me." She looked regal somehow. Regal and haughty and
harder than he'd ever seen her.
"And he
wasn't?" The cold was rising in
him, the tone of her voice inducing it, bringing the rage back. The guilt too. He wasn't sure which was making him talk to
her so angrily. "Is that why you
had sex with him? Because he wouldn't
give you up? I had my duty. I had responsibilities."
"And you think I
didn't? I gave up everything to come
with you. For what? This constant mistrust? To be sent back home in shame because your
people don't approve? Give them time. When I bear your child, they'll have no
choice. If you weren't such a coward,
you'd know that." She stalked to
him, avoiding Spock's hand as he tried to stop her. "I love you but even that isn't enough
to make you fight for me."
She was right. He had hurried home to her, but he was also
considering sending her away. He loved
her more than anything, and he was letting others push him into doing something
he didn't want to do. He hated her for
being right. "You love anyone who
can make you happy in bed."
Her hand was out to slap him,
but he caught it and pulled her to him.
Her voice was small again,
tentative. "You make me happy. Don't force me to find someone else."
He kissed her, not caring
that his friends were watching. Or maybe enjoying that Spock was watching. Kirk pulled her closer. She was his.
Let Spock see that.
"Well, I guess it's an
improvement on all the fighting."
Bones was scanning them; Kirk pushed him away when the buzz of the
instrument near his ear distracted him from Chris's tongue teasing his
lips. "Something's got them,
Spock. But I'll be damned if I can find
any physical evidence of it."
"Perhaps a mental
approach would be more effective." Spock
forced them apart, easily fending off Kirk's blows as anger filled him again at
his friend's interference.
"We're busy," Kirk
said through gritted teeth.
"Yes. I can see that."
Chapel flew at Spock, trying
to pull him off of Kirk.
"Doctor, if you do not
mind."
"What?" Oh, right." He held a hypospray against Chapel's
neck.
A moment later, she sagged,
suddenly calm. Looking at McCoy, she
said, "Please make her stop. Before she comes back.
I don't know how long I can hold her off. The drug...give him
the drug."
"The sedative would
appear to inhibit whatever is attempting to control them," Spock said.
McCoy nodded, held the hypo
to Kirk's neck and let the sedative flow.
It felt cool on his skin, then anything but cool as the chill seemed to
fall back in reaction. Kirk felt the
presence fade too, not gone but no longer in charge.
"Help us, Bones."
"Spock's going to try a
mind meld. Quit fighting him, Jim."
Kirk looked up at Spock, gave
him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, old
friend."
"You are not
yourself," Spock said softly, as he initiated the meld.
Kirk had the strange
sensation of being buffeted by two forces on either side of his
consciousness. Spock's warm and familiar
presence pushed against him, and he moved aside willingly, giving him access to
the cold force that waited on the other side.
"Leave," Spock
ordered.
"No," the presence
said.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Kellor. I am ruler of this place."
"Not this place. This is not your place."
"Where is my
place?"
"Your place is a world
long dead."
There was silence then, and
Kirk had the feeling Kellor was digesting that.
"Where is she?" the
presence finally asked.
"She has also invaded
another. You must both leave."
Kellor ignored him, and Kirk
could feel Spock trying to get closer to the presence. But he was no longer talking to Spock; he
turned his attentions to Kirk.
"He wants her,"
Kellor said, and utter coldness accompanied his words.
"No," Spock said,
trying to reach them both.
"He will keep her from
us."
Kirk remembered how she felt
next to him, beneath him, above him. He
wanted her. "Chris," he
murmured, holding out his hand.
He heard a scuffle, then felt her hand on his.
"Doctor, do not let them
touch," Spock somehow said, his mind deep in the meld but as aware as Kirk
was of what was going on around them.
But McCoy didn't answer. Melanya had always been a good fighter.
Then she touched Spock, her
hand resting on his back, and Spock groaned.
"No. I did not do
this."
The images of her and his
friend making love rolled over Kirk, and he raised his hands, tightened them
around Spock's neck, squeezing hard.
Spock's consciousness faded a bit as he struggled, one hand trying to
push Kirk's hands off as his other desperately tried to maintain the meld. His will lessened as he was overcome with
memories he had nothing to do with.
He'd had nothing to do with
this.
Spock had had nothing to do
with this.
Kirk forced his hands to
open, pulled them away from Spock, then pushed the
Vulcan away from him, breaking the meld with a mind-numbing crack. He could feel Chris beside him. She'd had nothing to do with this either. She was just the vessel Melanya had chosen to
pop into.
"You killed me,"
she said softly.
"No. He killed her." He touched her cheek. "Come here." He pulled her to him, his lips finding
hers. Gentle this time. Kirk to Chapel, no ghosts allowed.
Her lips felt just as good
when they were just hers.
"We are not you,"
he said to the presence. "Get
out."
He felt only resistance. And calm, deadly cold
anger.
"Chris," he
whispered as he stopped kissing her, pulling her into a tight hug. Her, not this
Melanya who'd cheated on her lover for whatever reason. Not a woman who Kellor had killed in some
kind of fit, pulling his too-sharp knife across her throat and watching her
bleed to death on the darkened lawn, before dropping the knife and wandering
away to collapse in the hallway and awaken without the memory.
"Someone killed
her," Kellor said from deep within him.
"He did it." He meant
Spock.
"No. You killed her. You know you did. You sent me the memories."
"I would not have. I loved her." But there was no certainty left.
"You killed her," Chris
said, somehow knowing his thoughts. She
burrowed into Kirk's neck, her arms gripping him tightly. "You did. But this man wouldn't. He couldn't."
Kirk smiled. "It's why you picked us."
"Why you picked
him." Chapel pulled away. "It's over."
It was the wrong thing to
say, it was what Melanya had said to Kellor after she'd told him that he'd
driven her to his friend. It's
over. Over. Over.
He'd make it over.
"It's not over,"
Kellor whispered to him.
Kirk pulled out a knife he
hadn't realized he'd stuck into his pocket, a folded knife that he snapped
open, the sharp blade gleaming in the sickbay lights.
"You love him,"
Kirk said, looking from her to Spock. It
was true, but it wasn't wrong, wasn't anything he should be upset over. She wasn't his; she could love whomever she
chose.
He tried to drop the knife,
could feel Kellor fighting him--and winning.
Kirk moved the knife closer to Chris's neck.
"I used to think I loved
him," Chapel said, holding her hands out, not even trying to stop him or
push the blade away. "I know you
can't do it."
He moved closer to her. Spock stepped in close too.
"No," she said,
pushing him out of the way. "Let
him finish this." She smiled at
him. "I don't even know what to
call you."
That stopped him. Him, not Kellor. He'd made love to her, and she didn't know
what to call him.
"Chris."
"If you're going to kill
me," she said, pulling his hand up, the knife nearly touching her white,
white throat, "shouldn't I be able to call you Jim?"
His hand shook.
"Jim," she
whispered. It sounded so good to hear
her say that.
"Yes," he drew out
the word, turned it into a hiss. He
wanted her. Not as Kellor to
Melanya. He, Kirk, wanted to make love
to this woman who held his blade to her throat. He suspected that making love
to her would be better than making love to a ghost had been.
He realized she was shaking,
and tears welled up in her eyes.
"Jim. Choose." Her voice shook.
He dropped the knife. "Get out. It's over," he told Kellor.
The presence fought him. "No.
Kill her. She is cheating."
"No, your woman
cheated. Melanya cheated and you killed
her and that is the truth you've been seeking."
"I lost her." Kellor's
uncertainty was back.
"You killed her."
"Melanya. I loved
you."
Kirk could feel Chapel's
hands on his cheek.
"I know," she said, her voice suddenly deeper and filled with sorrow. "Come, my love. It's time to leave."
A presence brushed Kirk's
mind, soft and determined, not unlike Chapel in that regard. He felt Kellor resist for a moment, and cold
overwhelmed him. Then the cold was gone
and he felt alone in his own mind.
As soon as Kellor was gone,
the sedative kicked in full force. He
slid to the floor, was aware of Chapel collapsing next to him.
"Chris." He held out his hand, trying to tell her it
was nice to hear her call him Jim, but she was already unconscious.
He followed her into lovely,
warm oblivion. An
oblivion with no voices in his head but his own.
------------------
"You're cleared for
duty," McCoy said, as he snapped his tricorder shut.
Kirk looked around
sickbay. They'd put Chris as far from
him as it was physically possible and still have her in the ward.
McCoy followed his gaze. "She's fine too."
Kirk nodded, he started to
get up, wanted to walk over to her, but McCoy touched his arm. "What purpose is it going to serve,
Jim?"
He stopped.
"She's had a hard time
of it with Roger and Spock. Does she
need you messing her up too? Besides,
she knows as well as I do how you feel about getting involved with your
crew."
Kirk thought of her with
Spock, was gratified to feel no roiling jealousy. He sighed.
"I just want to talk to her."
"Talk to her later. When whatever happened between you two isn't
so raw. When it's not
so immediate."
He nodded, getting up
slowly. He forced himself to turn his
back on her, to walk out of sickbay and not look at her.
He'd made love to her. He didn't have to leave her. He could have her. She worked in medical, the most autonomous section
on his ship. It wasn't the same as it
would have been with
He could have her, dammit.
He kept walking. All the way to his quarters
for a shower, then up to the Bridge to reclaim his life.
He threw himself into his
work, and fortunately his work cooperated, providing ample opportunities for
distraction in the form of adventure and also lovely, willing ladies who did
not work for him in any capacity.
He had to ignore that he felt
guilty when he passed her in the corridor, saw her blush slightly and murmur,
"Good evening, Captain."
"Nurse Chapel," he
murmured back, just as pleasantly.
She didn't meet his
eyes. Not then, and not when they were
in orbit around a shore leave planet, when he ran into her on the ship instead
of down on the surface that everyone else was enjoying. Everyone else but him
and the others who'd volunteered to man the ship. He'd thought she was going
down. It was why he'd stayed away.
"Not going down to the
surface, Chris?"
She shook her head, walked
away quickly.
He hurried to catch up to
her. "I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be
sorry for. It's like it was with
Sargon. We were just being
used." She finally met his eyes,
and he saw pain in hers. "I know
you didn't feel those things for me."
"Just like you didn't
feel anything for me?"
"Right," she said,
turning away quickly.
He grabbed her, pulled her
back so he could see her face. She was
crying. "Chris, I'm sorry."
She jerked her arm away from
him. "You already said that,
Captain."
Her tone shouldn't have
bothered him, shouldn't have made him feel guilty, but it did. But it didn't bother him as much as the
request that showed up from her in his internal comms
queue a few hours later.
A request
for transfer.
He felt as if he'd been
sucker punched.
He walked down to her
quarters, nodding pleasantly to the few people still on board. He rang her chime, and when she didn't
answer, he rang it again and again. He
would not use his override access. She
needed to let him in.
Finally, the door opened and
she stood in front of him. Her eyes were
red, and she looked less than thrilled to see him.
"Request denied,"
he said.
She closed her eyes. As if she was holding back
some great pain.
"Why, Chris?"
"I'm going to medical
school. I gave up so much when I came on
board." Melanya's
words to Kellor, only Kirk knew it hadn't been him who Chapel had given up so
much for. It had been Korby and Spock.
"We need to talk,"
he said quietly.
Nodding, she let him in, her
door closing quietly behind him.
"I'm sorry, Chris,
I--"
"--I know you're
sorry. You've said that too many times
for me not to get it, sir." She
sounded tougher. Maybe, for her, the experience
of being linked with the ghost of Melanya had been beneficial. She looked pretty damned commanding standing
there glaring at him. Or she did until
she had to blink back tears.
"I'm sor--" He shut up,
pulled her to him. He just wanted to
hold her, just wanted to comfort her.
Comfort was usually not
delivered by a kiss, by his arms going around her and pulling her fiercely to
him, or by her mouth opening under his the way he remembered it doing before.
Somehow, without Kellor inside him, touching her was better. More vivid, not all mixed up with memories of
Melanya. "Just you," he
murmured.
She was clutching him,
holding him as if he was likely to run.
"Just me," she said, finally letting go of him and trying to
push him away.
He resisted. "Do you want me to go? Or do you think I want to go?"
"Does it matter?"
He nodded.
"I think you want to
go. I think you feel guilty over what
happened and that's why you're here."
He grinned despite the look
on her face. "You think that was a
kiss fueled by guilt?"
She started to smile and
rubbed at her eyes. "Well..."
"It wasn't." He eased her up onto her desk, moved in and
pulled her closer. "Kiss me."
"Sir,
no."
"Jim. We've made love, Chris. Call me Jim."
"We haven't made
love. They made love using our
bodies. There's a difference, one I'm
well aware of."
"Fine, I'll kiss
you." He did, and she didn't
resist. But she didn't help him much
this time either. When he pulled away,
she was crying again.
She looked up at him,
stroking his hair, her touch light and sweet. "I felt what it was like to have someone
who I couldn't be sure would keep me. I
felt that through Melanya. And I went
through it with Roger. Do you know that
I actually felt more sure of him when he was missing
than the whole time I was with him?"
She shook her head. "And
you? Duty and
obligation. No romantic
involvement with your own crew. Those
are your rules." She smiled, but it
did not reach her eyes. "How long
could this last?"
"I don't
know." He noticed that she had not
let go of him. He slowly pressed against
her more firmly, heard her moan.
"You do want me? You, not Melanya?"
She nodded but didn't look at
him.
"When do you want to
leave?"
"As
soon as a replacement is named. I don't want to leave Len in a lurch."
"What about me?"
Her expression turned
hard. "You can find your own
replacement. You've been holding
auditions if rumors are to be believed."
It annoyed him that someone,
or many someones, were talking about what he did when
he was off the ship. "It wasn't
that way."
"Oh, it was just
meaningless sex, then? That makes me
feel so much better, Captain."
"You aren't going to
call me Jim, are you?"
"No,
sir. I'm not."
They stared at each other,
bodies close, but somehow a million miles away.
He felt as if she was going to pull away from him, and she'd be gone
forever before they even got a chance to find out what they might have
together.
"I get to Earth from
time to time, you know." He watched
her face as she said it.
She smiled. Just barely, but it was a smile.
"Unless you plan to be
studying twenty-four/seven, I could stop by."
She looked up at him. Her smile had faded but there was something
in her eyes. Something
lighter. Maybe hope? Maybe just the willingness
to give him a chance? He didn't
care as long as it wasn't the look of her walking away from him forever.
He pressed on. "I know I don't know you."
"I don't know you
either."
"I want to, Chris. I want to get to know you." He leaned in, burying his nose in her hair,
then in her neck. "I want to learn
the smell of you. The
taste of you." He licked
behind her ear, then kissed his way around to her
lips.
She kissed him back this
time.
He pulled away. "Unless it's Spock you really want? Then I'll leave you alone. I won't get in the way of that."
She shook her head, looking
away as if embarrassed. "There's
nothing to get in the way of. It was a
nice fantasy, but it doesn't age very well."
"Then why not give us a
chance?"
She shook her head.
"Why
not?"
"All
the other woman." At his
look, she held up a hand. "Oh, they
don't matter now, not when we're not together.
But in the future, they'll hurt even more. I know what it's like; Roger always had
someone on the side." She laughed;
it was a bitter, bitter sound. "I
could relate to Kellor too. I
sympathized with his pain. If I'd
actually found Roger with someone, I might have killed them too."
"Maybe that's why
Melanya picked you?" He smiled at
her.
"If that's true, then
why would you want to risk being around me?" She pushed him away from her hard, and
slipped off the desk. "Go away,
Jim."
He smiled. She'd finally used his name. As she tried to pass him, he pulled her back,
kissing her as soon as he had her held securely in his arms. She struggled for half a second, then her
arms wrapped around him, and she was kissing him desperately. He felt a chill and laughed to himself as he
realized it wasn't due to any ghostly presence but because she was tearing his
clothes off him. He returned the favor,
falling onto her bed with her, their bodies joining as if they really did have
five-thousand-year old memories to guide them.
It was even better now that
they were alone in their heads.
At least it was better until
they finally lay still and she started to cry again.
"Don't," he said,
cuddling her against him. "Don't,
Chris."
Her lips found his, her
kisses soft and somehow sad. He found
himself overwhelmed by the need to take care of her. Something about her touched some part of him
deep inside, called to things he'd thought he'd given up on a long time ago.
Maybe that's why Melanya
picked her? Maybe the ghost had been
able to tell that he would never be able to hurt Chris?
"I can be faithful, you
know." His voice was stern, but his
lips on her ear made her laugh.
"I'm not asking you to
be. I'm not asking you for
anything."
"You're done with
that?"
She nodded firmly. "No more
romance."
"You have a future. Plans and goals and somewhere you need to
be." He kissed her again. "Chris, I can relate to that. And respect you for it."
She pulled him to her. "Just make love to me. I don't want to think or talk. I just want to be close to you for a little
while."
He did as she wanted, might
have overachieved in how many times he sent her over the edge. When they finally lay still, she was very
quiet.
"Your request is
approved." He traced simple figures
on her arm, felt her nestle closer to him.
He knew she was crying again.
"Thank you."
"You're
welcome." He didn't stop touching
her arm, his fingers settling lightly on her skin, making her shiver. "It will probably take Starfleet Medical
a few weeks to find a replacement. And
you'll have to stay at least another week to train him or her."
"That's true," she
said, as she kissed his chest.
"We could get to know
one another before you leave?" He
tried to not make it an order. It had to
be her choice.
She smiled, as if she knew
how hard it was for him to not just order her back to his bed. "Yes, Jim, we could."
"Would you like
that?" He kissed her cheek, then nuzzled her ear.
"Mmmm."
"I'll take that as a
yes."
She pushed him away
gently. "I'm not sure this is a
good idea though. You have at least two
more years before the mission is over. Why
get close just to have it ripped away?"
"Yes, that would be
stupid." He eased her to her back,
saw her smile as he pushed into her again.
He leaned down, whispered in her ear, "I'm due back on Earth in
four months for some mandatory training and a few strategic planning
meetings. For two weeks, if that sounds
good to you?"
"You don't have
to--"
He put his hand over her
mouth. "If that
sounds good to you?" He
looked at her sternly.
He could feel her mouth
turning up under his palm. Then she
nodded.
"Good. I'm glad we got
that settled." He let go of her
mouth, put it to much better use.
It was quite a while later
that they lay quietly again.
"How did you know I
wouldn't let Kellor kill you?" he asked.
"As we said, we don't know each other very well."
She turned so she could see
his eyes. "I just knew." She touched his temple, brushing back his
hair. "I didn't just stay on this
ship because of Roger and then because of Spock. I stayed because serving under you has been
one of the best experiences of my life.
I've learned a lot from you, you know.
You're a wonderful captain."
Of all the things she could
have said, this one probably touched him the most.
"I think that's why
Melanya picked me. Because she knew I'd
trust you with my life." Her face became
more serious, in fact she looked a little scared. "And with my
heart."
"Really?"
She nodded. "But I'm stupid that way."
He laughed. "I'm so glad." He held her, content to just feel her next to
him. Those lovely women he'd been with
lately had never been this warm. The sex
had been fun, but there had been no real connection afterwards. Not like this.
Kellor and Melanya had chosen
well.
"Did Melanya know he
killed her?" he asked, suddenly curious.
She nodded. "But she didn't tell me, not at
first. I think she wanted me to get
close to you and not be afraid of you until it was absolutely
necessary." She kissed his neck,
nuzzling her way around and down his chest.
He shivered at her touch.
"I love that
ghost." He smiled as she continued
her explorations downward. "You're
trying to resurrect the dead, you realize?"
She looked up at him. Her grin was terribly wicked. "You think so?"
"I'm good but not that
good." He was about to pull her up
so he could kiss her some more, when he felt life coming back to places he
thought for sure were finished for the time being. "Maybe I am that good."
Her laughter was warm and
sweet and filled the cabin. Filled him too. Chasing out any lingering remnants of Kellor and his guilt and
rage.
Trusting her, Kirk
surrendered to the pleasure she was giving him.
Having the ghost of Kellor inside him had been scary and dangerous. But he couldn't regret that it had happened
if having her in bed with him now was the result. He wondered what having her in his life in
other ways would be like. He had a
feeling he was going to like it.
Possession--everyone should
be so lucky.
FIN