Sons of Lyra: Stranded by Felicity Heaton Page A

cleavage now
and then. After a few weeks of not being noticed in the slightest,
she’d given up trying to get his attention, but she hadn’t given up
her feelings.

    He strode into the room
and her eyes were immediately on him, scanning him from the feet up
as they always did. There really was no denying how handsome he
was. His athletic figure was only emphasised by the tight blue and
black flight suit that left nothing to the imagination. His
features were noble, with bowed lips, straight nose and dark hair,
but it wasn’t those that had made her heart race the moment she’d
met him.

    It had been his stunning
aquamarine eyes. They made him the picture of Lyran perfection and
breeding. They made him a man any woman would want—even her. His
eyes held hers. Out of the four sons of Lyra, the royal bloodline,
he was the only one to have eyes like that.

    He was the only one
unmarried.

    Anger flashed in his
eyes.

    Blood trickled down the
bridge of his nose.

    There was a cut on his
forehead. He hadn’t had that when she’d last seen him this morning
on the bridge.

    “ In the name of
Iskara, Engineer! How many times must I tell you to sound the
warning before re-instating the Gravi-Drive?” He wiped the blood
from his nose, smearing it across his forehead, and then pushed his
fingers through the black tendrils of hair on top of his head to
the shortness of the back.

    She saluted. “Sorry,
sir.”

    Apparently one more time.
She was so used to working on ancient freighters where the gravity
drive eased itself back into action much like everything else.
These new Achelon Class fighters had gravity drives that snapped
back on. She’d discovered that to her dismay over a year ago when
she’d been drafted to the Lyran Imperial Army. Back then, Captain
Lyra II had threatened to discharge her. In the end, he’d punished
her more severely. She’d been reassigned to the Nephis-Lyra, his
brother’s, Captain Lyra III’s, ship.

    His eyes burned into
hers.

    All she’d done since
arriving was piss him off. Never once had he threatened to
discharge her though. He’d shouted at her plenty of times and had
even personally thrown her in the brig once, but he’d never taken
it any further.

    She wondered what he was
waiting for tonight. Normally by now he’d be across the room and
trying to make her ears bleed with the volume of his voice. He
leaned against the doorway.

    The gravity drive
whined.

    She smacked it again,
frustrated. Two days and she was beginning to think she was going
to spend the rest of her life stuck in space with just Captain Lyra
III. She wanted to be on Lyra Six, sunning herself and relaxing.
Well, she’d be on her back anyway.

    “ Have you tried
sticking a posidriver in it?”

    He held up a long
cylindrical tool. A dirty interpretation of his words drifted
across her mind. She swallowed. He walked across the room, steps
slow and measured, moving with the sensuality of a Lyran mountain
panther, and handed her the posidriver.

    Her gaze fell to it and
then shot back to him when he unzipped the top of his flight suit,
peeling it apart and pulling it down his arms. He tied the arms
around his waist. Her stomach heated through at the sight of much
bare flesh and muscle. She stared at the posidriver in her hand,
wishing she was on Lyra Six right now, where men like him were
waiting to do her bidding.

    He crouched down in front
of the boxy Gravi-Drive and the access tube for the engine. When he
turned and lay on his back, his head and shoulders disappearing
into the hole in the wall, she changed her mind.

    Not men like
him.

    No men were comparable to
the sons of Lyra.

    She handed him all the
tools he asked for, her eyes never leaving his body. They studied
how his muscles shifted and tensed with each movement and the
steady build of a fine sheen of sweat as he tried to fix the
engine. If he was going to give her a free show like this, she
wasn’t going to waste it. She hoped he’d be down there