Deathstalker 07 - Deathstalker Return

out of the jungle and walk right up to you to stare curiously into your eyes. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead again. Their mouths were so close now they could feel each other's breath on their lips. They were both breathing heavily again, almost in rhythm. Rose was frowning slightly, as though considering a difficult problem. And then her bloodred leathers creaked as she took him cautiously, gently, into her murderous arms.
    In the cargo bay of the Hereward, in a rough nest he'd made from boxes of the alien porn data crystals, the reptiloid Saturday was fast asleep. He'd been sleeping ever since they left Unseeli, his emerald green belly swollen and distended from all the people he'd eaten. He smiled toothily in his sleep, and occasionally his tail or his clawed hands would twitch as he dreamed happy dreams of slaughter and feeding.
    None of the others had any intention of waking him until they absolutely had to. And then they'd do it from a safe distance, probably using something long to poke him with.
    While Brett and Rose grew closer and the reptiloid slept, Lewis Deathstalker and Jesamine Flowers caught up on their quality time. To be exact, they'd taken over the main cabin, locked the door securely, and hadn't left the bed for two days, except for certain necessary trips to the food synthesizer or the bathroom. They were currently standing together at the foot of the bed, both entirely naked, looking at themselves in the full length mirror on the wall. Jesamine was frowning. She studied her famous face and figure with critical, merciless eyes, turning this way and that to check all the angles and find her best side.
    Lewis stood easily beside her, one arm draped companionably around her slim waist. When he looked at them both together, in the mirror, he saw Beauty and the Beast, and wondered, not for the first time, what someone so breathtakingly beautiful saw in an ugly brute like him.
    "Oh, God," said Jesamine. "I look awful."
    "What are you talking about?" said Lewis. "You look wonderful. You always look wonderful. If you were any more perfect, you'd be banned as harmful to the eyes."
    I've got a roll of fat around my middle, my tits are sagging, and I'm actually afraid to turn round and look at my bum. I can feel it heading towards the floor as we speak. This is what having to live without full-time beauty technicians does to a woman. I'm not as young as I was, you know. Once a woman reaches a certain age, she has to spend a lot of time taking care of herself, or it all falls apart in the middle of the night and she wakes up looking like her mother. It's a fact."
    "You look fine to me," said Lewis. "You look great. I wouldn't change an inch."
    "You say the sweetest things, darling man." Jesamine kissed him absently on the cheek, and then went back to studying herself in the mirror.
    Lewis sighed, but had enough sense to do it internally. Even with his limited experience with women, he knew they were venturing onto dangerous ground here. Women never saw themselves as they really were; inside they were always judging themselves against some imaginary perfect image they picked up in their youth and never broke free from. Jesamine Flowers was famous as one of the most gorgeous women in an Empire full of beautiful women, and here she was scowling at her reflection as though she'd just acquired jowls and a mustache.
    Lewis looked at himself, and had no illusions. He was built for stamina, not speed, and his muscles were made for action, not posing. He let the fingertips of one hand trail unhurriedly across the various new scars he'd acquired since leaving Logres. There were quite a few of them, from swords and guns and explosions—places where death had touched him briefly, in passing. Scars were a new thing for Lewis.
    As a Paragon on Logres he'd had automatic access to regeneration machines, so that even the worst wounds never left a permanent mark on him. The Hereward had no regen tank. He had to heal naturally, and he hated it. It was slow and uncomfortable, it interrupted his thinking—and it left scars.
    As if he wasn't ugly enough already.
    Jesamine put a gentle hand over his, as it traced a long scar down his left side. "You got that one fighting to protect me, in Traitor's Hall, in theBloodyTower . I remember. You've been through so much pain for my sake."
    "You're worth it," said Lewis. "I was never really happy, never really alive, till I met you."
    Jesamme laughed quietly, and