Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) by Jennette Green Page B

help you,” she told him,
keeping in character. If she had truly been about to be left behind, she’d
argue with him, even at this late hour.
    Tersely, he said, “Stop it.”
Afterward, he stood before her in silence, as if not sure what else to say. His
fists tightened and relaxed.
    Anya drew a shaky breath. “I may
never see you again.”
    “Probably not.”
    Anya clenched her teeth. The
stubborn man. If he let her come, his chances of survival would improve. A
welling, sick feeling in her gut told her he’d die if she didn’t. It was one of
the reasons she was dead set on going with him. She couldn’t lose him. It was
absolutely unthinkable. And so she would deceive him now, and it had to be a
good performance. He could suspect nothing, or else he might lock her in the
room until all chances to follow him had vanished.
    “I want to go with you.” The
emotion in her whisper was real.
    “Goodbye, Anya.” He gazed at her
for an eternal second, and then unexpectedly, roughly, pulled her into his arms
and hard against his chest.
    With a small, contented sigh, she
slid her arms around him.
    Joshua stood stiff and still. She
pulled back a little, so she could look up at him. To her surprise, he watched
her. His face was very near her own.
    His breath touched her lips, and
she closed her eyes.
    She stood motionless. The heat of
his body, his scent, and his nearness drugged her senses. She longed for his
kiss. Of course, he never would kiss her. And she didn’t want to be the one to
kiss him.  His quiet rebuke—gently put, of course—would crush her heart. And so
she stood very still, enjoying the sweet torture of his breath caressing her
skin.
    Soft moments passed.
    His lips brushed hers.
    Her breath caught, and her hands
fisted into his parka in complete shock. She was afraid to move, for fear he
would stop.
    He did not. His mouth lingered on
hers for long, sweet moments. Unable to stop herself, her hands slid up to his
shoulders.
    His muscles tensed, and he pulled
back slowly, but his breaths still caressed her lips in quiet, silky whispers.
    “Anya.” The murmur sounded
tortured.
    She slid her fingers into the
thick hair at his nape. “Joshua.”
    “Red One. Copy?” The voice from
his parka came as a shock. A new rectangular, silver transmitter was clipped to
his lapel.
    Joshua touched the “send” button. “On
my way.” He released her and stepped back. “Goodbye,” His voice sounded rough.
With a duck to his head, he headed for the door. He did not look back.
    Anya’s fingers went to her lips.
She didn’t know whether to feel elated or to cry. Joshua believed he would
never see her again. For him, that had been a goodbye kiss. Would he want to
kiss her again when he saw her in thirty minutes? Probably not. More likely, he’d
want to kill her.
    Unease slid through her. Anya didn’t
want to think about it.

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER TWELVE
     
     
     
    Anya boarded Richert’s small, private airbird
five minutes after a military aircraft flew Joshua out of the gigantic hangar.
Her pilot, a burly man, merely grunted, “Put on your seat belt.”
    Within minutes, they shot after
Joshua’s transport. According to Richert’s cunning plot, after the military
transport dropped off Joshua, her pilot was to land a good distance from the
Altai airbird they had stolen. The pilot would stop just long enough for her to
jump out, and then he’d speed away.
    From there, Anya would be on her
own.
    She laced and unlaced her fingers.
Nerves knotted her stomach, but she tried not to think about Joshua’s reaction
to being marooned alone with her and the enemy airbird.
    Her stomach swirled up in a
sickening leap as they dropped to the earth. And then, blessedly and all too
soon, they were still. “Get out.”
    “Thanks,” she said, and stepped
into bitterly artic air. It was a bright day, and the sky a cold, polarized
blue.
    Cold snow swirled up, stinging her
cheeks, as the pilot rose, then shot