Vendetta (Project Vetus Book 2)

by Emmy Chandler

  Vaughn kicks open one of the doors and carries me into the apartment, but then he stops cold in the living room, sniffing the air. “Nope.” He turns and carries me to the next door, which he also kicks in. “No.” He rejects that one without even stepping inside.

  “What’s happening?” I ask, as he kicks in a third door.

  “I’m looking for a suitable place in which to fuck you stupid.”

  My face burns at the repetition of the dirtiest thing I’ve ever said, but my lower bits grow even wetter at the promise in his words. “What kept all these places from being suitable?”

  “They stink of other couple’s fluids. In a pinch, I could ignore that. But since we have options, I want you to have some place clean to lie beneath me.”

  “Well, that’s…thoughtful. But what if I don’t want to be on the bottom this time?”

  The growl that rumbles up from his throat makes my body clench around nothing but the hope of soon having him inside me. “Fine, then. A clean place for me to lie beneath you.”

  “Oh, god, I want that,” I admit in a low groan, as my forehead falls against his shoulder. “But maybe you could stop kicking in doors? I seem to recall that you have a somewhat unique way of entering a room, which—conveniently—leaves your clothing behind.”

  Vaughn laughs as he sets me on my feet in front of the next apartment. “I’ll be right back.” Then he steps through the door.

  But this time, his clothes go with him.

  I frown at the door, as if it’s somehow responsible for this witchcraft, then it opens, and Vaughn gives me a heated smile. “You’re still dressed,” I inform him.

  He looks down at his own beautiful body, and his eyes widen. “Well, that’s new. Must be the nano-tech. Damn, they’ve been busy at Theron!”

  “That’s great, but the point was for you to be naked right now.”

  “That’s easily remedied.” He turns and gives the apartment he’s standing in a quick sniff. “I think this one was unoccupied.”

  “Where are all the people who are supposed to live here?” I ask as Vaughn takes my hand and leads me through a generically decorated living room and past a small, dusty kitchen into a fully furnished bedroom. The mattress is bare. No one lives here, yet all the other apartments are obviously supposed to be occupied.

  “They fled when they heard about the imminent raid.” He closes the bedroom door and reaches around me to untie the patient gown I woke up in.

  “All of them?”

  With the lower tie hanging loose, Vaughn turns me around so he can lift my hair over one shoulder to gain access to the higher tie. “Looks like it. The ones who didn’t get arrested, anyway.” He tugs the gown off my shoulders and lets it slide down my arms to the floor. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

  “So, we can just stay here?”

  “Not permanently.” His beautiful golden eyes glow as he lifts me in both arms and carries me toward the bare mattress. “But for tonight, at least, I get to make love to my mate the way she deserves. In a real bed.”

  19

  GRACE

  THE MATTRESS IS soft and plush. It gives beneath my weight with the luxurious feel of…I don’t know what. Clouds, maybe. I feel like I’m lying in a bed of clouds.

  Yet somehow, that ridiculously opulent sensation pales in comparison to the feel of Vaughn’s body beneath my hands. Well, beneath both my hands and his strange, tight new armor.

  I pluck at the material clinging to his chest. “How do I get this off?”

  “It’s in several pieces,” he murmurs against my skin as his mouth works its way down my neck, sending pleasant tingles racing through me. Settling in my stomach.

  I tug at the material again and discover that he’s right. The top of his armor is a shirt, and when I pull it up, it reveals a tantalizing glimpse of his taut abdomen.

  My hands slide beneath the material so I can explore the work of art that is his chest, but my gaze has snagged on his eyes. His beautiful golden eyes, staring down at me as he rises onto his knees to give me better access. To indulge my exploration. “Do whatever you like, my mate,” he growls softly, his eyes dilating with need. “Name anything you want, and I will do it.”

  “I want more patience,” I admit, as I pull his shirt high enough that he has to raise his arms, so I can tug it over his head. “I want to take my time and learn your body, but I…I need to feel you inside me.”

  The black at the center of Vaughn’s eyes expands until only thin rims of gold remain. He plants his hands behind my thighs and tugs so quickly that I fall over backward, yet somehow his hand is beneath my skull before it can hit the mattress.

  Not that this bed of clouds could possibly have hurt me.

  “Patience!” I cry, as he stands and shoves down what remains of his body armor to puddle over his feet. His cock greets me, hard, and long, and ready. Twitching with eagerness, which makes me want to touch it. “I said I wanted patience.”

  “You also said you need to feel me inside you. We’ll do that first, then you can explore all you want.” That oscillating sound echoes from his throat, and I groan as the empty ache between my thighs swells.

  “No! Wait!” I put one hand on his sternum and push him back as I sit up. “I want to taste you, like you tasted me. I want you…in my mouth.” My face flames with the admission.

  Vaughn’s throaty groan is a symphony of desire and frustration. “I would love to feel your hot little mouth close around me. But the truth is that I need to be inside you just as badly as you need me there. And you can’t fit anywhere near as much of me in your mouth.”

  I slide off the bed and sink onto my knees in the plush carpet. Then I smile up at him as I reach out and take his cock in my hand for the first time. “But I can try.”

  The moan that leaks from his throat seems to articulate every hidden desire I’ve ever had, both the innocent need I couldn’t quite understand, when I touched myself alone one night in the convent, as well as the more mature cravings newly awakened in me since I met Vaughn. They’re all there, in that desperate, dirty sound.

  I want to draw more of those sounds from him.

  “Is this how you do it?” I stroke him in my hand, more than a little intimidated by the fact that I can hardly close my fist around his girth, and his moan is my answer. “Do you like it slow or fast?”

  “I love any way you want to touch me.” His eyes fall closed, and his cock jumps in my hand. “But slow is good. Slow is really good…”

  I stroke him a few more times, slowly, feeling each bump and ridge of his satiny skin as it slides through my grip. I’ve never done this, but I’ve heard about it. This is the kind of thing concubines are expected to do, while wives just lie back and accept their husbands’ seed.

  But there is none of that here, between Vaughn and me. This is different from anything I ever expected to experience. He is different. And wonderful. And there is no shame here. No sin. There is no wife resenting me. No label demeaning me. There is only the two of us, and our desires.

  And I really want to taste him. Not because it’s expected. But because I want to.

  I lean forward, and something in my grip must have changed, because Vaughn looks down at me, as I open my mouth. He sucks in a deep breath, and the golden glow in his eyes brightens. Centimeters from the swollen end of his cock, I extend my tongue and taste him, right at the tip, where moisture has gathered in the small hole.

  “Oh god, Grace, don’t tease me,” he moans, his gaze still glued to me.

  I smile up at him. Then I open wider and take him inside.

  He feels bigger in my mouth than in my hand, and for a second, I don’t think this is going to work. But he tastes as good as he smells, and before I know it, he’s deep in my mouth, my tongue cradling the underside while I suck gently.

  I can’t fit all of him, of course. I can’t even fit half. So I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, to imitate the tight warmth of my mouth, and I stroke him as I take him as deep as I
can, then slowly let him slide almost all the way out.

  “Fuck,” Vaughn groans, when he hits the back of my throat. His hands slide into my hair and seize a gentle grip, not demanding, but guiding. Encouraging. “Oh my god, I love you, Grace.”

  I laugh as I let him slide free. “That’s easy to say, with your cock in my mouth.”

  Vaughn grabs my chin and tilts my face up, so that I’m looking right into his eyes. “That has nothing to do with it. It’s a fact. You are my pole star. My true north. You are the steadiest, brightest point in the galaxy of my existence, and I will forever look to you, to make sure I’m on the right path.”

  My heart feels swollen. Too big to fit into my chest.

  “I love you, Grace. And I will be by your side for the rest of our lives.”

  While I stare at him, stunned speechless, Vaughn lets go of my chin and takes my hand, then he helps me to my feet. He bends down to kiss me, and I greet his tongue with the same enthusiasm with which I just met the rest of him. But long before I’m done with him, he pulls away, leaving me gasping. Before I can complain, he sweeps me up into his arms and lays me on the bed, then lowers himself over me.

  “I need you,” he whispers into my ear, as he spreads my legs with his knee, to make room for himself. “Right now.”

  I gasp as he sinks into me, his girth broad enough that he has to work his way inside in a series of small thrusts. But I’m plenty wet for him, and there is no pain. There’s only the blissful sensation of being opened by him. Filled by him.

  Of being loved by him.

  When he’s finally fully seated inside me, he heaves a satisfied groan and leans down for a kiss. Then he begins to thrust, establishing an eager rhythm that quickly triggers a blissful pressure deep inside me. In minutes, I am panting, clenching around him as I hurtle toward—

  “Wait!” I cry, shoving at his chest. “Stop!”

  Vaughn immediately goes still over me, his cock twitching inside me in protest. “What’s wrong?”

  “I wanted to be on top!”

  He laughs and leans down to kiss the tip of my nose. He wraps my legs around his hips, then he slides one hand beneath my backside and rolls us over in one smooth motion. And suddenly I’m straddling him, with him still buried deep inside me.

  Vaughn folds his hands behind his head and grins up at me, golden-eyed gaze almost hypnotizing. “Do your worst, my mate. Or your best. Those are probably the same thing, under these circumstances.”

  Unsure quite how to start, I smile at him as I lean forward, balancing with my hands on his chest. I rise until he slides almost all the way out of me, then I slowly sink back onto him.

  “Oh, god, I need more of that,” he groans, when my hips are flush against his. When he’s buried as deep as he can go. His hands find my hips, and he holds my gaze, his glowing with filthy intent, while he shows me how to angle my pelvis, for the most beneficial friction. He guides my movements, lifting and rocking me until I get the gist of it and feel confident enough to take over.

  “How fast do you—?”

  “However you like it,” he groans. “Just please don’t stop.”

  So I ride him, glorying in the pleasure shining in his eyes, tightening around his length with every stroke, as my clit brushes his pelvis over and over.

  “I lied. Faster, please, Grace. Oh my god, faster.”

  I move faster, rocking myself against his pelvis almost frantically, chasing my release as his seems to barrel toward us. And when my novice speed isn’t enough, he grabs my hips again, grinding me against him as he thrusts up into my body, until I’m gasping, my head thrown back. My eyes closed.

  “Grace,” he groans, and I can feel him holding back. Trying to wait for me. “Please, baby.” His hand slides between us, and the second his finger makes contact with my clit, I fall over the edge, spasming around him as I come so hard the whole room starts to go dark.

  Vaughn releases inside me, a hot rush of fluid he thrusts as deep as he can while my body clutches at him. Loathe to let him go.

  And finally, I collapse against him, my head on his shoulder, my legs still wrapped around him while he throbs inside me. “That was unreal,” I whisper.

  He laughs. “That was just the beginning.”

  “Can we stay here tonight, or do we have to go back to the Dinghy?” I ask.

  His hand slides into my hair, cradling the base of my skull. “I’m not leaving this apartment for the next twelve hours. And neither are you.”

  “Great.” I sit up and look down at him. “I’ll look for food, and you find some sheets. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right.”

  “And a lot,” he sits up beneath me and steals another kiss. “We’re going to do this all night long…”

  20

  VAUGHN

  “SO, WHAT DID I MISS?” I ask as I step into the control room off of the landing bay.

  Jamison spins in his chair to face me, one brow arched. “Well, you look…satisfied,” he says instead of answering my question, and I can tell from the cocky look in his eyes that he isn’t basing that on just my expression. He’s reading me.

  I hate it when he does that.

  “Won’t last long,” Sotelo declares, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the far wall. “The beast will have him back in Grace’s bed as often as possible, until she’s pregnant.”

  “Too bad Grace doesn’t actually have a bed, huh?” Zamora says.

  I shrug. “There were a couple hundred to choose from in the residential building, and we made ourselves at home, just like you all did.” My fellow crew members each had two nights in the apartment of their choice, while I spent that first night in the infirmary with Grace, waiting for the medpod to coax her out of her coma.

  Though, to be fair, they each took a shift guarding our friendly neighborhood janitor, to make sure he didn’t disappear on us.

  “In fact…” I shrug. “If it wouldn’t be dangerous for us to stay here, considering that UA owns this place, I’d say you should leave Grace and me here while you guys deliver Meshach’s crate, then come back and pick us up in the new ship.”

  “But that would be dangerous,” Dreyer says without looking up from the console she’s claimed. “UA could send people in at any time to take whatever can be salvaged from this place. Or to set it up as home base for a new project.”

  “Or just to destroy what’s still standing, to keep any more of it from being used against them in court,” Zamora adds.

  They’re right, of course. And the two nights we’ve already spent here were enough of a risk.

  “Fine, then, let’s get this over with.” If we can’t stay for a while, I’m ready to beat the information out of Larimore and be on our way. “Hey Zamora, can you find Grace and Lilli on the security feed? Lawrence is with them, shopping for clothes and things in the commercial building.”

  “On it.” He spins toward one of the control room consoles and starts tapping through menus. A minute later, a grid of security feeds appears on the wall to our left. “There they are. Looks like Lilli found the maternity section.” He taps on the virtual keyboard again, and the grid of screens becomes one large feed, showing Lilli and Grace discussing articles of clothing as they pull them from the racks, while Lawrence watches from several feet away, ready and willing to defend them, should that prove necessary. Though Dreyer has set the neural-scan software to sound an alarm immediately if a new set of brainwaves is detected anywhere in the complex.

  “Thanks. So, back to my original question: how much help has Mr. Larimore been so far?” My gaze finds the custodian, who’s now handcuffed to a chair at the back of the control room. “Is he talking?”

  Larimore rolls his eyes. “I told you, I don’t know anything about your damn crate.”

  “Lies,” Jamison declares. “Usually there’s room for doubt about that, but this guy is definitely lying.”

  My focus narrows on Larimore. “About the crate, specifically?”


  Jamison shrugs. “That, I can’t be sure of. Yet. I think he’s muddying the waters by also lying about how much he knows about the research that went on here. Which means he’s giving off a generally untrustworthy vibe.”

  “What are you, psychic?” Larimore demands, and Jamison ignores the question. “Look, I don’t know who you guys are, but I can see that you’ve made yourselves at home. And I will admit, those suits look like they were made just for you,” he adds with a glance from one set of battle gear to the next.

  “They were,” Dreyer says, without looking up from her console.

  “Who am I to argue? What I’m offering is this: you take what you want and leave, and when UA sends in a cleanup crew, I won’t tell them you were here.”

  Sotelo snorts. “Do we look like we’re worried about a cleanup crew? The only way you’re going to get rid of us is to tell us where the missing crate is.”

  “We know it never made it onto the transport,” I tell him. “Which means it’s still here. Or that you know where it went.”

  Larimore’s gaze narrows on me, but he pointedly snaps his mouth shut, refusing to answer. Again.

  “Okay, I found the original manifest from the evidentiary transport,” Dreyer says. “It looks just like the copies we’ve already seen, except since I’m accessing it from the system where it originated, I have access to the metadata.”

  “How does that help us?” Sotelo asks.

  “It lets me see who entered which information on the form.” She spins in her chair, raising one brow at Larimore. “Guess who entered data for Meshach’s crate, falsely indicating that it was loaded on the transport?”

  I follow her gaze. “My money is on one Mr. Roger Larimore, janitor extraordinaire.”

  “If you’d placed that bet, you might be a wealthy man,” Dreyer confirms, still studying our handcuffed “guest.” “So, Mr. Larimore, what happened to the crate?” she demands, as Sotelo and Jamison close in on him, a blatant and willing threat.

  “I told you, I—”

  “Don’t bother.” She stands. “If you don’t start talking, I’m going to let the guys begin removing your fingers one at a time, until we hear something that sounds like truth.”