Free Trapped: A SciFi Convict Romance (The Condemned Book 1) by Alison Aimes Page B

held her tight trying to comfort them both. Even on
Earth, he hadn’t been so good at it. He’d been a pilot and a soldier, and even
when home on leave from Command Council business, he and his wife had led
fairly separate lives. He’d understood. He was home so infrequently. She had to
make a life for herself. But he hadn’t understood when she’d started sleeping
with the married Council representative of their district.
    “Convict?”
    “Yeah?” He didn’t mean to sound so gruff, but she was staring
up at him, her gorgeous face streaked with tears, her fingers curled against
his chest, and his throat had gone a little tight.
    He’d thought for an instant he’d lost her over the cliff,
that he wouldn’t be fast enough to reach her in time, and his heart was still
coming to grips with the matter. Which was dumber than dumb. Growing attached
to anything on Dragath25 was a recipe for disappointment.
    “No one’s coming?” Her voice sounded small. Not like his fighter
girl at all.
    Still, he wouldn’t give her anything but the truth. “They’re
coming, but they won’t make it out alive.”
    She shuddered against him. “I can’t just let it happen.”
    He played with the ends of her hair, reveling in the soft
brush of silk against his palms. “There’s no way to stop it. Surviving on this
planet is hard enough. Trying to take on 225 and his pack will only get you
killed alongside them.”
    “But to do nothing….” Her words ended on a sob.
    “Remember what I told you.” He tried to keep the edge from
his voice, but it wasn’t easy. Her softness—any softness—reminded him of his
initial conclusion that she wouldn’t last long—and that already displeased him
more than it should. “Earth rules don’t apply here. Worry for yourself.”
    She didn’t respond. He didn’t say anything more, either. Just
savored the pleasure of holding her warm and willing and trusting against him.
    “Convict?” He should have known the silence wouldn’t last.
His fighter girl was a talker. “Why’d you say those things before? Why’d you
make Winthrop and Ava think you were taking me up here to fuck me?”
    His dick twitched. He liked hearing that word from her full
lips. “Because that’s what I intend to do.”
    She studied him, as if she could see to the heart of him.
Which was impossible. He’d lost that particular organ a long time ago. “And the
part about the pain?”
    He shifted uncomfortably. “That might have been a slight
exaggeration.” He tipped her chin to meet his hard stare. “But you’re mine now.
Not his. And there’s not a fucking thing that Council-asshole can do about it
laid out there on the ground so he better get used to it. You both better get
used to it.”
    “I don’t want to be with him. I didn’t, even before the
crash.” She didn’t even hesitate.
    Something inside him loosened. Something he hadn’t even
realized had been squeezing his chest tight. “Good.”
    “I know I have no real ground to ask given the terms of our
deal,” her voice cracked, lashing at him like a whip, “but I–I would appreciate
it if you didn’t purposely humiliate me.”
    Shit. When he’d
seen her hand clasped with that smug, blueblood scientist’s, he’d wanted to
blot it out anyway he could. To make it clear as day that she wasn’t the
bastard’s to touch anymore. And, maybe yes, to make her feel like shit—as low
and dirty and shitty as he felt knowing he’d never measure up to a
well-respected, well-paid Council scientist with a bunch of fancy degrees and
no criminal record.
    Which made him a grade-A asshole. And stupid, too.
    Because the truth of the matter was, he didn’t want his fighter
girl to feel badly about being with him. He didn’t want her to hate it. Or be
desperate to get on that shuttle and travel light years away.
    Because the fact was, he liked her.
    He liked the way she smelled. The way she tasted. Like
vanilla and woman and light and hope and goodness and