He tipped her chin up and to her relief, she noted he’d softened his disgruntled expression. “No. I don’t think you did, but your attitude remains problematic. A wife of mine would kneel on the floor the moment I entered the room.”
“I’m not your wife. I’m your mechanic,” she said carefully, lowering her voice. Kneel, debase herself? It wasn’t something she associated with marriage. Her mum often ignored her father when he’d come home from work. They had their issues, but from everything she overheard, most things were resolved. Love seemed mutual and rewarding. Mason’s idea of a wife’s role was degenerate.
“No,” he said softly, “you’re not my wife. I don’t expect devotion, or even loyalty from you. I do expect obedience and honesty. My mate will be somebody who gives all those things to me without condition, because she loves me and needs my protection. That is how we do things on Ixzar.”
“That’s not me, is it, sir? I’m your prisoner.” She matched his intense gaze and his eyelids flickered for a second. “Do I get punished for this?” She cocked her head at the stasis tube.
Mason released her arm. “No. But now that my expectations are clearer, they’ll be no more second chances. Have you finished what you needed to do in here?” He stepped back when she shook her head, then watched as she moved between the icy tombs and examined each one in turn. He said nothing as she quickly completed her checks.
No more second chances. The man was a disciplinarian to the core, an attribute she’d encountered little on her home world. Sanctions were less physical, more materialistic—the removal of personal possessions or fines had some impact on her behavior. The rest of the time, she got away with pushing her luck.
She closed her toolbox. “All is good. Sir,” she added.
He followed her out and sealed the door with his palm print. “From now on, you can’t get in here without me.”
“Anywhere else out of bounds?” she asked.
“My quarters. Now, it’s time for supper and then you can go to bed.”
She closed her eyes and quickly counted to ten in her head, holding back the barbed remark forming on the tip of her tongue. Staying out of trouble was going to be so tough. She smiled, dragging the corner of her lips up into her heated cheeks. “Of course. Sir.”
Something nagged away in her head as she sat opposite him in the small mess and ate supper, which bore the same features as breakfast: bland and tasteless. “Marshal,” she began tentatively. “I get that you’ll punish me if I disobey, but I’m an incentive kind of girl, it has to work in my favor to obey you.”
His lips twitched slightly as he considered her question. “I’m not freeing you.”
“Oh, no, I assumed that was far too big a reward,” she said sweetly. She wriggled her wrist and the metal band flashed under the lights. “This?”
“The restraints? They stay, for now.” He pursed his lips as she continued to offer him her most demure expression, but she stopped short of fluttering her eyelashes. “The ankle ones could be removed if you continue to be good.”
“Thank you, sir.” She toyed a little with her food. On the one hand she was pleased with his capitulation; however, she wanted to break Mason’s rigidity down and find more of the man behind the facade. When his eyes sparkled or his lips curved upward into a near smile, she felt a buzz shoot through her, like a wave of energy. “You mentioned a wife. You’re obviously not married and I wondered why.”
“No, I’m not married.” He immediately glanced down.
She’d offended him. “Sorry. That was impolite.”
“It was. My marital status is of no concern to you.”
Throughout the rest of the meal, she remained quiet and when he escorted her to her cell, the door left unlocked, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Throwing herself on the bed, Jade regretted her question. Being nosey had its benefits. It got her the connections she needed to escape Malimor and meet up with the relief teams, but it wasn’t working with Mason. His reluctance to share personal information bothered her more and more, and after a restless spell asleep, she rose and had a shower. If she lay in bed any longer, she’d touch herself and imagined things about him instead. Top of the list was fucking. Why was she thinking about sex all the damn time? She didn’t want to think of the answer—it only added to the things bothering her.
* * *
Mason peeled off his clothes and left them in a heap on the floor. It was uncharacteristic of him not to tidy up, but his emotions were churning and he needed a cool shower. The water bounced off his shoulders and ran rivulets down his thighs. He tried to ignore his hardened cock, the rush of blood that pulsated around his groin and he focused his mind on other less tumultuous things. It proved futile. He turned the temperature down another notch and the frigidity began to work. He felt calmer, less on the verge of imploding.
She’d asked about marriage. Wives. Women. Topics he preferred not to discuss with anyone. They’d tried on Ixzar to find him a compatible wife and none of the available women from his Stratum had met his needs. He hadn’t put much effort into the process and it had been noted by his superiors. They couldn’t understand his reasons for delaying the inevitable.
She, the sweet Lila, was gone from his life and he suspected others had played a part in her disappearance. When he’d gone to find her, he’d been informed she had been moved to a new division and a new location on the other side of the planet. Why he’d felt so disappointed by her absence, he couldn’t fathom. She wasn’t a member of his Stratum and wasn’t expected to be compatible with either his character traits or physical demands. The whole point of the Stratum was to ensure mates were highly compatible. She wasn’t the right caliber, a fellow law enforcer had warned him.
“Don’t go there, Mason,” he’d said. “Think about it—Lila isn’t right, you know it.”
According to Mason’s austere father, compatibility was the cornerstone of good marriage, not romance. His mother had kept quiet and nodded in approval, like she always did when his father spoke with authority. It was how he’d been raised and he, too, assumed he’d want a meek wife nodding at his feet. Lila might have, if he’d asked her, but he never had the chance to find out if the Stratum method was as foolproof as he’d been led to believe. What little time they’d spent together, mainly limited to brief encounters in her workplace or walking in the ice park at the base of the tower block, had kept them chaste and unable to progress beyond conversing. She liked him; that much was apparent by her eagerness, the way she complimented him with smiles. However, it wasn’t always like that. Once, when he’d expressed a viewpoint in line with Federal policy, she’d disagreed, almost vehemently. She’d made no apology and shrugged off his counter arguments. At that moment, he’d understood his friend’s warning and he should have backed off, reminding himself he was part of a different tribe to hers.
Lila came from a Stratum, one where lovers met on equal terms and remained balanced in power. The authorities believed such pairings created individuals suited for service roles, team workers, or other such professions. Mason was a born leader, fighter and happy in isolation from others—how would that work with Lila?
In the end the decision was taken away from him. She was removed from temptation by watchful eyes—spies at her workplace. Mason’s response had been to apply for a transfer, out of general police work and into the notoriously challenging space marshal division. Only after he’d started the training program had he acknowledged that maybe, just maybe, the Stratum system wasn’t entirely appropriate for pairings. Career advancement, community spirit, yes, but mates, lovers? He was in danger of preaching treacherous thoughts and the best solution was isolating himself in space—far away from his home world and any potential slave-wives.
Switching off the stream of water, Mason leaned against the cold wall and waited for the blast of air to dry his skin. He no longer had the urge, it had left him and his erection was depleted. The turmoil remained though, because it hadn’t been memories of Lila that had kicked off his arousal, it had been Jade—the incompatible fugitive—and why he felt that way about her was far from resolved.