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“Behind!”
Torian’s barked warning made her drop automatically to the floor. Two blaster bolts sizzled over her head and shattered an ice crystal above her, sending a flurry of crystal shards raining down on them all. Mako dropped her Kolto and scattered just in time to avoid being crushed by a chunk of ice, arms over her head. She dropped and rolled, another three shots leaving smoking holes in her wake, and landed safely behind the large, humming thermal generator protecting the kidnapper’s compound from Hoth’s sub-freezing temperatures.
The silence that followed was deafening but fragile, as though the smallest sound could bring the entire crystal cave crashing down on them - which wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, but she didn’t have a lot of choice. These guys were likely only mercenaries, but they were shooting to kill. She was back on her feet again in a second and went very still, listening. Torian met her eyes and seemed to understand. Don’t move.
The thin, metallic beeping and blinking of one of her electrodarts drew a surprised sound from the raised platform. The explosive within the dart detonated and the sniper slumped, one arm dangling towards the ground.
Torian smiled his little Torian smile, with true pride and satisfaction. “That’s my girl.”
“Is it safe?” Mako peered out from her hiding place. Brave as she was to willingly follow them into danger the way she did, Mako was also a healer and not much use in a firefight otherwise.
“C’mon out, Mako.”
“I owe you. Again.” She used her vibroshiv to untie him, and Torian stood, stretching out his arms, rubbing at his wrists. She could read gratitude in his eyes in spite of his characteristic seriousness, and she thought they glinted briefly with wry amusement. “My turn to be bait, I guess.”
He looked away. She got the sense that he might actually be ashamed of himself for allowing anyone to get the drop on him long enough to stage a kidnapping. Torian was no fool, but it still had to sting that Mandalorian pride.
“You’d make terrible bait,” she said, hoping to at least bring a smile out of him. “I don’t find you attractive at all.”
It worked. Torian’s lips turned up again briefly and he leaned in to kiss her. “Whoa, okay,” Mako interrupted, reminding them that they weren’t alone. “Save it for the ship, you two. Hey, one of these creeps is still alive and kicking!”
She stood over the blond merc who’d been the group’s spokesperson and, presumably, their leader.
“This should have been total overkill,” he said, looking as though he’d hoped they would pass him by unnoticed. He was bleeding from an open wound across his chest, leaving dark patches of blood in the packed snow. With some quick treatment and medical attention, he might make it. Then again, why waste good Kolto? “I want out. I don’t care how good the money is.”
“You’re begging the wrong person.”
Torian stepped in beside her, six-foot-plus of scowling Mandalorian.
“Torian, he’s not worth it.”
Mako really needed to keep her mouth shut sometimes. As much as they both were fond of her as a sisterlike companion, it was hard to imagine how anyone with her personality would wind up in the bounty hunting business. Mako liked Torian, but she seemed to forget that he was a seasoned warrior. This was a matter of pride, and it was his decision to make, not Mako’s.
Perhaps Mako’s influence had softened Torian, though. He drew back his fist and punched the kidnapper hard across the face, sending him reeling backwards. The man slumped unconscious in the snow.
“Due’s paid,” he said, in simple, stoic Torian. Her relief at hearing it again reminded her of the many times she’d jabbed an adrenal into his leg after a battle that left him motionless on the ground, and then heard him mutter Got sloppy before getting to his feet again. “Finished?”
“You know,” she said, hiding a smile, “I was actually starting to miss you.”
His blue eyes changed, flashing with a heat that sent warmth curling all the way to her toes and had nothing at all to do with the new thermal blastwear Blizz (bless the little guy) had put together for her during the rushed trip to Hoth.
“Mako,” she ordered, hoping her businesslike tone would cover her reaction and wishing he would stop looking at her like that. “Get back to the ship and pull together some data for our next target.”
Mako flashed them both a tolerant look that said the businesslike tone didn’t fool her one bit. “Got it. Be careful, you two.”
So much for discretion.
Mako had barely disappeared through the mouth of the ice structure when Torian was on her, pinning her flat against the thermal generator in two long strides (he may not be anywhere close to the monstrous beast Jilcoln Cadera had been, but the boy was still tall). He held her immobile and drove his mouth against hers, teeth nipping, tongue insistent, hungry. He fumbled with her headgear, which left the lower part of her face exposed but that obviously wasn’t good enough for him. He tossed it heedlessly to the floor and her visor followed a second later. She barely had time to tangle her hands in his hair when his tongue was in her mouth again, and he sighed in satisfaction as though she was a topical balm applied to a wound. “Su’cuy,” he breathed against her lips, gentling his assault, probably realizing that she had no real interest in going anywhere.
“Su cuy’gar,” she responded, feeling the truth of the sentiment now more than ever. There was probably a reason that ‘Good to see you’re still alive’ had colloquially become a generic Mandalorian greeting. Unwashed, windswept, and probably bone-tired, he was literally the best thing she’d seen in days. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again.”
“Nu draar,” he said, an assurance against her lips. “Never doubted you, cyare. Too much woman for those di’kute.”
“Which reminds me, how in blazes did they manage to subdue you with only five men?”
This time when his lips curved, it was a hunting smile, distinctly predatory. “There were eight, originally.”
“Torian,” she sighed, shaking her head and imagining with vindictive satisfaction how many mercenaries it had probably taken to subdue him. She’d seen him shake off swarms of rackghouls on Taris, sometimes six or seven at a time. His youth seemed to hide the fact that Torian was a lethal killer who often showed no mercy. She should probably feel something for the dead men, some sympathy, but she had none. There wasn’t room for anything but relief in having him strong and alive under her hands again.
Torian seemed to agree. He mouthed something in Mando’a against her skin, fingers working with purpose at the laces of her greaves and pushing them down under her hips. He lifted her up on his armoured thighs, strong and solid as stone, and wrapped her legs around his waist, tearing at his own with one hand until she felt the heat of him nudging at her, seeking.
She didn’t feel cold anymore. Even Blizz’s impressive thermal armour couldn’t keep away this planet’s bone-chilling cold the way Torian could. He’d been her personal heat source before, on the days when there was no outpost nearby with a bed to sleep in and they were forced to huddle together for warmth in a cave. As much as he joked that he really hadn’t minded, he had been a perfect gentleman then. There was nothing gentle about him now though, the way he bodily lifted her hips in both hands and shoved forward, bracing her against the wall, impaling her with one sharp thrust that left her winded and gasping for air.
“Vhey,” he whispered, pulling out and then pushing forward again, hands braced against the wall, surging with life and power. “Mine.”
A few months ago, she would have slapped him for that, or possibly put him on his back again just to remind him that she could, that she was a woman who belonged to no man and certainly not him. Except that things had changed now, and Torian had owned her heart from the moment of his bold proclamation on the Mantis that he was in love with her - possibly even from the moment she’d disarmed him on Taris. He was well aware that she was capable of stopping him herself, so there was nothing to prove. This was no longer a hunting game between them, or a graceful dance between predators with their sights set on the same meal. He’d already won, and he knew it. Torian owned her and he ruthlessly demanded every part of her, at the same time denying her nothing of himself.
It was quick and almost brutal, less than a dozen strokes before she felt his muscles tense and bunch, hips jerking, frantic and harsh. He bit a hard bruise into her neck and groaned, riding out wave after wave of aftershock that made his body tremor and shake. She heard him whisper into her ear words she had heard from him several times before - ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - the Mando’a words for I love you, which literally meant I know you forever. Funny, how the addition of that one little word, darasuum, could completely change the meaning of the vow.
“Ga’taay,” she panted, and he chuckled warmly into her skin. He lifted his head and brushed back her hair from her eyes, fingers tracing the swirling lines of the tattoo on her face.
“I sincerely hope not, cyare. Don’t want to think what would happen to me if I didn’t bring you back to Mako in one piece.”
~
“Good to see you two made it back,” Mako said, once they had arrived back on the Mantis. Her smiling eyes and Gault’s knowing smirk made her blush under her helmet, figuring that both had probably guessed at the reason for their late return. Blizz, thankfully, seemed oblivious, happily babbling away in Jawa. She caught something about Boss return and beat up bad guys real good, but not much beyond that.
“She treating you okay?” Mako asked Torian, breaking the tension. Skadge eyed them moodily from the doorway, but didn’t scoff at the display.
He smiled, without looking away. “Always.”