My Man Michael Read online

  It looked real.

  It looked like him in miniature, in bed, talking with his friends.

  “What the hell?”

  She handed him the device.

  No matter how he turned it, the image remained there in the air in front of him. “Fucking incredible.”

  She cleared her throat. “Everything you do is captured within space. With my viewer, I can tune in to observe you.”

  “Anytime?” Oh God, horrible possibilities crept in, like earlier, when he’d limped, cursed, and dragged his way into the john. He could feel his face getting hot. But damn it, he would not use a bedpan like an invalid.

  Kayli shook her head. “It’s not that simple. I speak into the machine and request specific data within a certain time frame, and it depicts episodes to exemplify the data. As an example, when I requested recent shows of compassion, I saw your conversation with Travis Stockham.”

  She’d seen him with Travis? No way.

  Kayli went silent, looking down at her feet for a moment. “Perhaps you’d be rewarded to know that later, he cried at your generosity and compassion.”

  Mallet stiffened.

  Kayli’s gaze lifted, locked on his. “On his knees beside his bed. He thanked God, and he thanked you, sir. He prayed for you.”

  A new weight, not the weight of despair, squeezed Mallet’s lungs. “You can’t know that.”

  “I could show you if you’re inclined.”

  “That’s an intrusion on that man’s privacy!”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yes, I know, and I felt uncomfortable with it. I didn’t view him long. I only wanted to ensure that he hadn’t taken advantage of your intentions.”

  Mallet found himself again struggling for composure. For once, he didn’t feel for himself and his situation. He felt glad—glad that he was able to relieve some of Travis’s burden, both financial and emotional. If he’d been in Travis’s situation, he knew he would have been miserable.

  “You are truly an honorable man, sir. You are the man we want. The man we need.”

  “We?” Now what was she suggesting? That there were more of her? Not that he wasn’t interested—hell, he was male, so he was interested. But still—

  “My colony.”

  Mallet blinked at her. “Your … ?”

  “Colony.” She turned serious and again sat beside him, her hip brushing his and setting off sparks inside him.

  With a single touch, she turned off the viewer. “In the twenty-third century, there are no states, no nations. We are a people divided into colonies, ruling ourselves without interference from big government. We rely on bigger government only for the strictest rules, which means—”

  Mallet smashed a finger over her mouth. His head swam, and it wasn’t the pain meds. “You said the twenty-third century?”

  She nodded, caught his wrist, and lowered his hand—to her lap.

  Oh good God.

  He felt the heat of her. He knew what lay just beneath his hand and that knowledge coursed through him like a hot, wet lick.

  “Specifically,” she said, oblivious to his turmoil, “I’m referencing the year 2220. That is my current year, the year where your presence is needed. You see, sir, my colony—”

  He didn’t want to, but he took his hand from that warm, soft lap and smashed his fingers over her mouth again.

  She started to pull away.

  “No,” he said. “Just be quiet. Let me think.”

  Through large hazel eyes, she watched him. And she waited.

  Finally Mallet asked, “You’re saying that you’re from the future?”

  Not looking the least bit insane, she nodded.

  “From 2220?”

  She nodded.

  So if she wasn’t nuts, she had to be pulling his leg. Did she expect him to believe that? Did she think the accident had also muddled his brain? The more he considered it, the more annoyed Mallet got. “How stupid do you think I look?”

  And just like that, she was gone. Without her mouth behind his fingers, his hand fell. He was a large man, a fighter, more capable than most—and her disappearance scared him.

  “Damn.” It seemed lame and unbelievable, but he carefully stretched over the side of his bed and looked under it.

  Nope. She wasn’t tucked under there, hiding. She was just plain gone.

  When he straightened again, she stood right before him. Mallet jumped so hard in surprise, it hurt like hell.

  “God damn it, don’t do that!” His heart thumped and his skin crawled. He didn’t like being startled. It made him feel like a frail little girl.

  Kayli apologized with a shrug. “I wanted to show you something, but I required permission.”

  “Permission from who?”

  “My mother.”

  Mallet stalled. Her mother? Of all the idiotic … Hopefully that woman wasn’t lurking around, popping in and out, too. “What does your mother have to do with anything?”

  “Everything. You see, our ancestors started our colony, so my mother, as the oldest remaining relative, is now the Arbiter.”

  “Arbiter?”

  “She is the person empowered to make weighty decisions concerning the colony—our people, our futures, our … everything. Most often she confers with the Council Mavens, to ensure all colony members’ opinions are appropriately represented within her decisions.”

  “The council is elected?”

  “No. They’re appointed by my mother, but with feedback from the members of the colony.”

  “Are you one of these Council Mavens?”

  She shook her head. “I lead our defense team, and as such, was appointed Claviger.”

  “Claviger, huh? And that means … ?”

  “Technically, I am the one who carries the keys. For our colony, it means I have the computer which locks or unlocks any given area of our colony. In many ways, my position is the most important to the colony members.”

  “Sounds like you and your momma have things all wrapped up.”

  His sarcasm stung her, given her expression. “My family would be similar to what your time period considers royalty.”

  In other words, he had a princess visiting him from the future? Mallet’s eyes narrowed. “Now you’re just fucking with me, aren’t you?”

  She went quiet, fidgeted, and then looked at him with clear disapproval. “I’m sorry, sir, but your language unsettles me. It’s not appropriate for where we will go.”

  “Your colony?”

  “Yes. If you’ll agree.” This time she pressed her fingers to his mouth. “And if you agree, I, as Claviger, can make your leg whole again. It will be as if the damage never occurred. You will be the same man you were before the accident, but in a different time and place. You will stand with the members of my family to take responsibility for my people.”

  Despite the craziness of her assertions, her audacity turned Mallet on. He nipped the tip of her middle finger with his teeth. Not hard, just enough to get her attention before he licked, tasted—

  She jerked back fast, disappeared, and reappeared again almost immediately.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a rush, for the first time with an inflection of emotion wavering in her tone. “You must not do such things with your … your teeth and your … tongue? Yes, I’m sure it was your tongue.”

  Wow. Such a reaction. He raised a brow and smiled. “It was.”

  She took a step back, then caught herself and stiffened her shoulders.

  “How’d you do that flickering in and out?”

  Her face tightened. “I tried to leave, my computer insisted I stay.” Her chest expanded on a breath. “Because it is important that I stay to finish our discussions, I’m asking you, please do not do anything so … perturbing again.”

  Grinning, Mallet shifted to face her more fully. “I perturbed you?”

  She nodded. “Such things leave me unsure how to react.”

  “I could show you how to react.” Okay, so pain kept him more
immobile than not, and he couldn’t do squat without breaking a sweat. On top of his pathetic condition, she was probably looney tunes, but her sweetness made the lunacy irrelevant. Even under such absurd circumstances, Mallet couldn’t help but turn on the charm and give it a shot.

  She intrigued him more than any other woman he’d met.

  After drawing another deep breath, she flipped back her hair and lifted a stubborn chin.

  Though Mallet hoped for agreement, he waited for her anger. He waited for a typical female rejection, maybe even a slap in the face.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she stated, “but I may not breed. It is forbidden for a warrior.”

  That statement wiped all thought from Mallet’s brain. She couldn’t breed? Okay, so maybe her lunacy mattered a little after all.

  Mallet took in the seriousness of her expression and decided to play along. “Sorry, sugar, but I ain’t going anywhere I can’t breed.”

  She blinked hard and fast. “Oh, no, you misunderstand. It is forbidden for me—for most warriors. But you are an exception. You would be accepted as a prominent placeholder in the hierarchy, equal to the Arbiter. You would be expected, even encouraged to procreate.”

  “No shit?”

  “It would be wonderful if you filled our ranks with your offspring.”

  Damn, but he couldn’t help it. Not since the accident had he found anything remotely funny, but several times now she’d made him smile. Now, with this craziness, he guffawed aloud, and once he got started he couldn’t stop.

  She was a warrior?

  From the twenty-third century?

  She wanted to take him back there with her, and once there, he’d be encouraged to “get it on”?

  The more that Mallet laughed, the more her expression soured until she pinched up and said, “Sir, your humor is misplaced.”

  His leg hurt like hell, his ribs screamed in protest, and the rawness in his throat caused real agony, but it just didn’t matter.

  “You think?” Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, he settled from robust laughter to a warm smile. “Tell me this, honey, who am I supposed to procreate with?”

  Her hazel eyes burned. Her lips went stiff. “You will be offered a selection of available women.”

  Mallet howled with laughter. Forgetting the pain of his injuries, he fell back on the bed and shook with the hilarity of it.

  Yeah, he had to be dreaming.

  Someone would make his leg as good as new, and give him his choice of fine-looking women? A desperate fantasy for sure.

  Or wait—maybe the women weren’t so fine. Maybe he’d be a sacrifice.

  Choking down his amusement, Mallet turned toward her as far as his ruined leg would allow. He couldn’t stifle the wide grin. “Got a bunch of dogs in your colony, is that it?”

  Her arms folded. “Animals are rare and cherished, but a few do reside within our boundaries.”

  So cute, even for a nut job. “I meant the women, sugar. Are they homely, desperate hags?”

  She went so rigid, a brisk wind would have broke her. “They are not unattractive, I promise you.”

  “Do the others look like you?” If so, what the hell, he might just go with the delirium and have himself a good time while it lasted.

  Color splotched her cheeks. “They do not. Unlike me, they’re more feminine.”

  That rid him of his smile. “More feminine, huh? How so?”

  “Women who are not warriors are … softer. Most in our colony have darker hair and bluer eyes, as your own, though some do have brown hair and green eyes. My fairness and height, along with my coloring, have made me an aberration of my colony—an irregularity within my family.”

  Did all that mean that she found herself unattractive? She had acted surprised that his friends called her a hottie.

  Mallet snorted. She was a looker, no two ways about it. But judging by her expression, he’d embarrassed her when that hadn’t been his intent.

  “All that, huh?” Taking his time, Mallet looked over her long legs, trim torso, and proud shoulders. With the tunic she wore, it was tough to judge her breast size, but it didn’t matter. He liked them all—large or small, soft or firm. Whatever she hid, he’d be satisfied.

  All in all, there was nothing irregular about her sex appeal that he could see. “How are the other broads more feminine than you?”

  “The women are delicate, whereas I am sturdy.”

  “Sturdy?” He snorted again. “I don’t think so.”

  “That would be your singular perception as an oversize man. In my colony, the men do not grow as … large as you.”

  Though he figured none of it was real, he couldn’t help asking, “So the men are shrimps, too?”

  Her exasperation showed. “The men are not as powerful as you, but they are good at what they do.”

  “Just not so good that you couldn’t use some outside help—from me?”

  “This is true. Our men are not fighters. They are builders and breeders, and they—”

  “Okay, hold up.” Mallet started snickering again. “Breeders?”

  Her hands landed on her hips, giving away her vexation over his frequent interruptions and overall chauvinism.

  “There is a shortage of males. With the future of our colony dependant on offspring, it is too dangerous to risk a man in confrontations with other colonies.”

  Outraged on behalf of all mankind, Mallet sat up again. “Wait one damn minute. You’re telling me the guys cower at home while the women go out to fight?”

  “They do not cower. The men of my colony are brave and understanding of their circumstances. They build our walls, which require heavy lifting. They supervise our perimeter and alert us—”

  “The women?” he sneered.

  “The warriors.”

  “All the warriors are women?” Time to switch drugs. That was too screwy even for him.

  “Yes, the warriors are all women. We’re selected early in life based on our growth plates and aptitude toward physicality.”

  “Looking for the big hardy ones, huh?”

  She ignored that. “The men alert us when a hostile group approaches. But they also tend to the children, and when appropriate they endeavor to reproduce with the nonwarrior women.”

  Despite himself, Mallet got caught up in her outrageous tale. It sounded to him like she had a bunch of wusses in her colony. What kind of men would sit home while the women went out to fight?

  To distract her from her pique, he lifted the viewer. “Why don’t you just use this to keep up with your enemies?”

  “The viewer only goes back in time, not across time, and not forward.”

  Mallet studied the little box again. “How’s it work?” When she didn’t answer, he glanced up to see her blushing again. One brow lifted in question.

  “I don’t know the specifics of it.”

  “You don’t know?” Assuming her story ran short on those details, he snorted. “Figures.”

  Rather than scramble to make her tale more believable, she snatched the viewer out of his hand and returned it to the strap in her belt. “How do your microwave ovens work?”

  Hell, he didn’t know. “You push a button and it cooks food.”

  “But how is that accomplished? What does the pushed button do?”

  He shrugged. “Um … microwaves? They cook the food somehow. Hell, I’m not a chemist or anything. I’m a fighter.”

  She slanted him a smirk of her own. “How do your video cameras capture an image, save it onto a selected format, and allow you to play it back again?”

  Giving up, Mallet held up his hands. “No idea.”

  “And your ancient cell phones that you all seem to carry without fail? How do they permit you to communicate through space?”

  “You’ve got me. I’m clueless.”

  Satisfied, she gave a nod of her head. “And so it is. Each generation has made use of tools and toys available to them with no concept of how they actually function.”

 
; She had a point. “All right, let’s let that go for now.” He eyed her, and went with a different source of curiosity. “You don’t consider yourself a hottie?”

  Her chin went up. “Compliments are not necessary, I assure you. I take great pride in being honest with myself. I am strong and fast and brave. But no, I am not blessed with the appearance that draws men.”

  “Really?” Sure as hell drew him. In a big way. His injuries had all but incapacitated him, yet she got a rise out of him anyway.

  “I have endeavored not to let that flaw affect me as I meet my fate for my colony. My mother has two other daughters to fill the ranks with offspring who will carry on our family’s destiny. I am needed only to keep the peace, not the standing of our name.”

  Mallet took extreme pleasure in saying, “I think you’re gorgeous. And that’s not the same as being hot. A chick can be hot, but not beautiful. Vice versa, too.”

  Kayli frowned a little. “You’re saying that she can be beautiful but not … hot?”

  “Yeah. And for the record, hot means doable, as in easily fucked.” He watched her waver, saw the color that first leeched from her skin, then flooded back, red hot and ripe. “You, Kayli Raine, are both.”

  She shook her head in frantic denial. “No, I’m not—”

  “Yeah, you are,” he interrupted. “Very.” He watched her blanch. “You aren’t going to disappear on me again, are you?”

  She again shook her head, but remained mute.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  That confused her. She put a hand to her chest. “My heart is racing. You disconcert me.”

  Sounded fair, considering what she did to him. “And maybe I turn you on a little?”

  More confusion swam in her mellow eyes. “Turn me on? I am not a machine. We already established that.”

  Mallet chuckled at her misunderstanding. “No, turn you on, as in make you hot?”

  She put a hand to her cheek. “Yes, you do bring a fever to my skin with your brazen way of speaking.”

  Enough teasing already. With his blood stirring over his sexual intent, Mallet lowered his voice. “Come here, Kayli.”

  Gaze flaring, she backed up a step. “Oh, no,” she said, and then added with great wariness, “Why?”

  Mallet watched her. “I want to see if I turn you on.”