Page 19 of Clan and Command

“Any reason besides the fact you’ll be working with me?” Kila flopped into the seat on the other side of the desk.

His suggestion of a smirk set Piras’s teeth on edge. “Don’t flatter yourself that you have anything to do with it,” he lied with ease. He brought up two large-scale quadrant star maps, the ones that showed the border areas under Maf’s control. “The best targets, the ones that would matter to the revolt, are the ones that would incur the heaviest civilian casualties. I’m not handing innocent lives over to Maf and his traitors.”

Kila sighed, erasing his irritatingly smug expression. “Did you think this would be easy, Piras? That innocents would be spared in any case?” He leaned forward. “The places that have fallen had their share of civilians too, people doing nothing more than trying to live their lives. It’s happened time and again. It will keep happening. There is no way around it.”

“I’m not adding to that count. I refuse.”

Kila considered him until Piras felt uncomfortable enough that he almost fidgeted. The discomfort sharpened his temper, which was already burning his guts.

Piras snarled, “You can stop trying to bore a hole in my face with that stare. I said no. I’m out.”

“Not acceptable.”

Piras’s teeth ground together and he made himself stop. “Not even Admiral Hobato can force me to take this on. I can’t handle the guilt. I refuse to send civilians to their deaths. Even one is too many.”

Kila’s teeth flashed in his dark face. He looked absurdly proud of Piras. “It’s that very conscientiousness that makes you the perfect man for this job. You’ll do it, and you’ll follow through no matter how much you hate it. No one else has that blend of caring and strength.”

Piras jumped up and waved at the star maps. “I tell you, I won’t be a part of this! Not when these are the obvious targets, the ones Maf will want.”

“If you don’t like the obvious targets, find a not-so-obvious one. Something you can live with.”

“Do you see anything here that fits the description? Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“You have to pick, and you have to do it soon.” Kila’s gaze turned chilly with intent. “Is it a shit assignment? One that could cost those of us involved our last shreds of sanity? Our souls? Fuck yes, it is. But you and I, we’re going to do it anyway.”

“Why should we?”

“You know why. As bad as the situation we’re stuck with is, not getting close to Maf will make it worse. There won’t be a single person, civilian or military, Earther or Kalquorian, who won’t be harmed if the Basma wins.”

“None of this is acceptable. Damn it, this fucking war is unacceptable!” Piras turned away, furious at the situation Maf’s fanaticism had brought on. Furious at the Empire’s leaders for letting it reach this point. Furious at fickle life itself. Furious at Kila for being right.

Above all, he was furious at himself for being unable to take on the task that would end up saving Kalquor because the price of admission was too high. The thought he would decide who would live and who would die was not one he could face.

Lost in blinding rage, he started when rough hands slid over his shoulders. He tried to jerk away, but Kila held him in place, his greater strength keeping Piras from escaping.

“Easy, Piras. Easy.” Every sense burst into acute life as Kila pulled him back so that their bodies met.

When Piras struggled anyway, Kila wrapped his scarred arms around him, pinning him tight. The Dramok didn’t miss the growing hardness pressing against his ass. Nobeks loved a fight, and Kila took pleasure in Piras’s attempts to pull free.

As an admiral being manhandled by a subordinate, Piras was infuriated. As a lonely man who had been granted a taste of what Kila could offer in a more private setting, he wanted to melt into the demanding embrace. Confusion swirled as he tried to sort out the disparate sides of his personality.

“Get your hands off me,” he snarled between clenched teeth.

“Why? You liked them all over you well enough before.” Kila’s breath warmed Piras’s ear, setting off a shiver. “I felt that, my pretty Piras. I wonder how much more you’d tremble for me.”

Keeping one arm wrapped around the Dramok, Kila went right for his weakest – and currently hardest – parts. His big, strong hand cupped Piras’s avid groin and rubbed with an expertise that robbed the admiral’s knees of their strength.

Heavy bliss filled his twin pricks as they bulged in reaction. The anger drained from his head, taking all identity as a commanding officer away. The fog of desire billowed through his senses. Everything melted into a sweet throb of need, of warmth, of feeling sheltered by the man nuzzling his ear and jaw.

Kila nipped the side of his neck. The sharp sensation traveled straight to Piras’s pulsing crotch, a swift lightning strike that brought him up on his toes with a cry. The Nobek held him easily, playing with him, arousing him.

Controlling him. The feeling of the robust man behind him wielding power sent sweet surrender sweeping through Piras’s body, making him helpless with arousal.

“I won’t fight for dominance,” he whispered. His heart boomed so that his entire body throbbed with its rhythm.

“I’m not asking you to,” Kila reassured him, his voice rough silk in Piras’s ear. “So damn few give themselves up like you do. Now that I know who you are, I’m ready to enjoy it.” He rubbed his iron erections against Piras’s ass to underscore the claim.

Piras moaned. He felt he could fall apart in Kila’s grasp, literally crumble into pieces. At that moment, there was only the Nobek, only his touch, only his demands. Nothing else existed.

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