by Jenn Burke
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” He actually whined, as though the climax was painful—and maybe in a way it was. I knew I was wrecked from mine. The physical release was incredible, but pair that with the emotional connection reforged with this man?
Yeah. I was a goner.
Finally, Hudson collapsed on me and I wrapped him in my arms. He was heavy but I didn’t complain—it had been too many years since I’d shared a moment this precious with him, and I didn’t want it to end. He kissed and nuzzled my neck, right over where he’d bitten it earlier, and I decided I couldn’t argue with his new quasi-fetish—it felt too good.
Eventually he groaned and rolled off me, but got no farther than lying on the bed beside me. I shifted onto my side so I could look at him, and kind of loved the fact that nothing was dripping from places where things shouldn’t be dripping. The dry orgasm thing? I could totally get used to that. Hudson looked as good as I felt, flushed, sweaty, languid...perfect.
“We need to do that more often,” I proclaimed. Because while sex in general didn’t hold much appeal for me, sex with Hudson? It had once been a necessity, and now it was again.
He smiled, the expression easy and open, and turned his head to look at me. “Yeah?”
I scooted forward so I could rest my head on his broad chest. “It was good, right?”
He poked a finger into my ribs, making me squirm. “Fishing for compliments? Yes, it was good. The best ever, I’d say.”
“Yeah,” I agreed with a happy sigh.
We lay there quietly for a while, coming down from our mutual highs. I heard Evan venture upstairs, and Lexi’s door open, and a little while later, chatter from the kitchen as they started their day. Or night. Whatever.
Having them in the house felt good. Maybe that was part of our problem before—it had been only me and Hudson. Our lives had been isolated—mine because I was a paranormal entity who couldn’t get close to people in case they noticed I wasn’t aging, and Hudson’s because he was a gay cop in an unforgiving and rigid hypermasculine culture. We had only had each other to turn to, to depend on, and maybe that had been too much pressure.
But now we had Lexi, and Evan, and maybe even Iskander. Our world was expanding, and that could only be a good thing.
Hudson cleared his throat. “So I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I propped myself up to look down at him. “I’m listening.”
“Remember I mentioned I wanted to retire? I set up a meeting with my commander and I’m going to start the process.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very. It’s time. My worlds came a little too close last night and Kat—” His eyes darkened, and not from pleasure this time. “I hate that she’s sticking her neck out and bending her integrity to cover for me. For us.”
“For herself too. Who would believe her?”
“I know, but that’s not the point.” He sighed. “Sometimes you have to read the neon sign for what it is.”
“Okay.” I got that. Hadn’t I thought the universe was putting up a neon sign for me too? It was weird to think of Hudson as not-a-cop, but I could support his reasoning. “So you enter your glorious retirement years. Then what?”
Hudson gave me his crooked smile. “I was thinking of opening a private investigation firm.”
I laughed. “Of course you were. You should talk to Iskander.”
“I was planning on it. I need to do some schooling and get my license and all that, and I figured he could give me some tips.”
“Good. I’m sure he can.”
“And I want you to work with me.”
Wait...what? “You want me to work with you?”
“You’re walking away from your recovery work, right? But you’ve got skills, Wes. I mean, covert surveillance? You’ve got that down.”
Yeah, I did. I’d never thought there’d be legitimate employment for me—and working alongside Hudson? Every day? That ignited a little quiver of excitement, not gonna lie.
“I’d be able to help people.” Really help, and not just the rich who managed to stumble across my contact information.
“We would, yeah.”
“And our lives wouldn’t be totally separate, like they were.”
Hudson’s expression softened. “Exactly. We’d both be all-in.”
I bit my lip for a second, consulting the swirliness in my gut—but there was nothing there but excitement and want. No fear—not when we’d be facing this adventure as a team. “Let’s do it.”
“Yeah?” Hudson brightened.
“Yeah. I get to name the firm, though.”
“Uh...no.”
“Uh...yes. You suck at naming things.”
“If you say so, Ghost.”
“Shut up.” I chuckled and gave his shoulder a halfhearted shove. “Maybe you can help come up with a name.”
“For sure, sweetheart. We’ll ask Iskander his thoughts too.” He levered himself up to give me a too-brief kiss. “I’m going to have a shower and head in to see my CO. You want to get up for breakfast or stay in bed?”
“Stay in bed.”
“I’ll tell Lexi.”
As Hudson started to rise, I said, “Hud?”
He paused and looked back at me.
We’d shared the words in the otherplane, but...maybe they weren’t ready for the living plane yet. We’d only reestablished ourselves, after all. So I gave him a wide, sleepy smile, and said, “Thanks.”
He grinned his crinkle-eye grin. “You’re welcome, Mr. Cooper.”
“Go have your shower, Detective—I mean Mr. Rojas.”
“Yeah, that’s going to take some getting used to.”
Eyes closed, I drifted as I listened to Hudson shower and grunted when he kissed my forehead. He left the room, shared some words with Lexi and Evan, and headed out for his meeting. It was weird, but I could feel his presence moving farther away, almost like I was a human-shaped GPS receiver. It was comforting—and at the same time, concerning.
Because I knew something fundamental in me had changed.
Swallowing, I opened my eyes, lifted my hand out of the comfy, cozy covers and held it above my face in the dark bedroom. I loosened my grip on my magic—something that took zero effort, much less than before, and felt as natural as crooking a finger. The magic flooded me, almost overwhelming me. It didn’t hurt. It was...weird. Way more magic than I’d ever had before. Way more magic than I had ever wanted or needed.
Enough magic that my skin glowed.
I grabbed the magic that had suffused every corner of my being and crammed it back into the metaphysical holder where it had always lived. I tried to ignore how it didn’t want to fit—it would have to, damn it. I wasn’t ready to face it.
I wasn’t ready to admit I hadn’t walked away from the ritual with the Crown of Osiris unchanged.
Lexi, Evan, Hudson—they needed to know. But not now.
I’d tell them tomorrow.
* * *
Look for Give Up the Ghost, the next book in the Not Dead Yet series, coming from Jenn Burke and Carina Press in June 2019.
To find out about other books by Jenn Burke or to be alerted to new releases, sign up for her newsletter at bit.ly/jennburkenewsletter.
Acknowledgments
As with every book I write, there are a ton of people behind the scenes who help immensely. I’d like to thank my beta readers, some of whom read the first chapters, then more chapters, and then the full—j. leigh bailey, Liv Rancourt, Isabelle Adler, Hannah Varacalli, and Sam Burns. You were all incredibly helpful and so appreciated.
Thank you also to the folks who reviewed the section on Wes’s sexuality and provided feedback—Wicked Stitch, Ava, Michaela, and L. Anthony.
Of course, huge thanks to Kelly Jensen for being a cheerleader. You keep me going some days!
> To Deb Nemeth, my editor—you always make my books that much better. I can’t thank you enough.
And lastly, I couldn’t write without the support of my family. Thank you to my son and daughter for being so excited when I shared the plot of this book, even though it was definitely one of my weirder ideas. And Matt...you’re amazing. You do so much to support me, I can’t even list it here, but know that I couldn’t do this without you. Love you all so much.
Now available from Carina Press and Jenn Burke and Kelly Jensen
A broken super soldier and a former prisoner of war must work together to find an old friend—and see if they can rediscover the love they once shared.
Read on for an excerpt from Chaos Station.
Chapter One
Dardanos Station, 2269
From his shaded booth, Zed scanned the bar’s patrons for his contact. The dark, anonymous interior could’ve belonged to any bar on any station or colony in human space. It suited this sort of establishment, making sure it didn’t stand out in anyone’s memories—perfect for Dardanos Station and its rough complement of miners and support staff.
Fifteen men and women, all worn thin by the physical demands of mining the asteroid belt, sat at the bar or the tables. Some were twitchy, their eyes in constant motion as they scanned their surroundings—junkies searching for their next hit of whatever drug they could afford, maybe, or ex-soldiers who’d never quite figured out how to hit the off button. Two in particular had a haunted look about them, quiet, subdued, as if the galaxy had kicked them in the balls so many times that they expected nothing more. Zed knew that look; he saw it every morning in the fucking mirror.
War would do that to you.
Unless Elias Idowu was the sort to wear a shitload of tech—not bloody likely, since jump-space messed with cybernetics and implants, rendering them useless—the captain of the Chaos had not yet arrived.
Zed turned his attention to the wall of garish holo ads and tried to ignore the floating freeform versions that approached his table to entice his creds to leave his hands. Some days he wanted to shake the people around him and demand whether they remembered that six short months ago, humanity had been at war. Everything was just so bloody normal at times, it made his teeth ache. No, he didn’t want to sample the “Station’s Own!” beer. He was good with the generic piss sitting in front of him, seeing as he’d hardly touched it. Unlike the fifteen men and women surrounding him, he hadn’t come here to drink. The bottle was a shield, a reason for him to sit and watch the news program on the holoscreen without the notice of anyone but the ads. The sound was off, the anchor’s lips moving out of sync with the music pumping through the bar. Didn’t matter, he’d seen the report often enough to repeat the reporter’s words even without reading her lips. The image that flashed across the screen still caught him off guard, though.
So familiar and yet so freaking different. He always remembered Emma with a smile, triumph flushing her olive skin after a successful mission. Her green eyes glowed and her smile was wide enough to encourage creases in her cheeks. He’d appreciated her beauty like one might appreciate a work of art in one of Earth’s museums, with a twist in his chest and a spurt of thankfulness that he’d been allowed to witness it.
The woman staring out of the holo had dead eyes. The creases that had enchanted Zed had been etched into her skin, around her mouth, at the corners of her eyes, beneath them. Emma looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks—a state Zed knew too well.
He gritted his teeth, staring at her image until the news switched to the video that had captured Emma’s fall from grace. The security footage of a hydroponic square on Chloris Station was grainy and too distant to get the details he wanted, but he’d know Emma even if she was little more than a collection of blurry pixels. He recognized her movements. The speed of them, the accuracy, the deadly intent. She took out a squad of station security in a matter of minutes, her body her only weapon.
Zed had studied the footage, trying to find some clue to explain why Emma had attacked and killed so many. There had to be a reason. He refused to believe the assertion that Emma had acted without provocation. She wouldn’t. That wasn’t their training.
Unless...
Fuck. No. He wasn’t going there. There was no point speculating until he saw her and found out for himself what had happened.
Movement at the door caught his eye. A man of just above average height stood there, dark-skinned, with brown eyes and brown hair, scanning the bar’s interior. He might be looking for a seat, but something in his demeanor suggested he sought more than an empty stool. His clothes marked him as someone who didn’t work on this particular station—for one, he had no wearable tech and, two, he was too damned clean. Like on other mining stations, the folks who called Dardanos home worked hard, long hours—though the company that managed this station made sure its workers were rewarded and cared for, miner culture was what it was. Rude, crude, rough and harsh. Most of the people sitting around the bar sported jumpsuits with rock dust ground into them so deeply that it would never be washed out. In contrast, the newcomer wore cargo pants and a vest over a plain long-sleeved SFT. Good, practical gear for a ship captain, though the smart fiber of his shirt looked worn in places.
Zed raised his hand. The newcomer spotted it immediately and started in his direction, then paused on the opposite side of the table.
“Loop?” The corner of the man’s mouth twitched, as though the name amused him.
Zed inclined his head, acknowledging the alias he’d been going by. “Elias Idowu. Have a seat.”
Elias slid into the chair Zed gestured to. A holo floated by and he ordered himself a beer, the same variety sitting in front of Zed.
“It’s piss,” Zed warned.
“Wets the throat.” Elias leaned back into his seat, the image of ease and comfort, but Zed noticed one hand stayed beneath the table. Near a weapon, probably. “So, Mr. Loop. How can the crew of the Chaos help you?”
Zed supposed the name of the ship suited a crew that made their living by less-than-legal means, not that it mattered. He wasn’t in a position to judge the people who offered the type of help he needed. Besides, hadn’t they all done what they’d needed to do to survive the past eight years of war?
“I need passage to Chloris Station and help tracking someone down once we’re there.”
Elias offered the server a smile as she set down his beer, and waited until she wandered off once more before speaking. “Passage and a bounty?”
“Essentially.”
“The Chaos isn’t a passenger ship.”
“I figure for the right amount of creds it’ll be anything I need it to be.” Zed arched a brow. “Am I wrong?”
Elias sipped his beer, then his long, dark fingers played with the bottle’s neck. A casual gesture, one that masked furious thinking. “Who are you looking for?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there.”
“Oh, hell no. I don’t play games like that. I have a crew to watch out for, and I need to know, up front, what sort of shit I’ll be getting them into. You tell me who you’re looking for or I walk. Simple.”
Damn. It’d been worth a try. Zed jerked his chin at the news program playing above Elias, which had cycled around to the portrait he knew so well, and yet didn’t.
“Her name’s Emma Katze.”
“Huh.” Elias watched the holo for a few more seconds. “You’re chasing down an AEF bounty?”
Zed grimaced. No, this had nothing to do with the price the Allied Earth Forces had put on Emma’s head. Or, rather, everything to do with it. Anyone else going after her might end up in a body bag and send her deeper into the shadows as a result.
“She’s a friend.”
“You keep interesting company, man.”
You don’t know the half of it. “She’s in trouble.”
“And you’re,
what? Her white knight?” Elias gifted him with a crooked grin.
“No. Just a friend.” Zed stared at the label on his beer bottle for a minute. The curlicues of the lettering seemed to shift, writhing across the logo. He blinked. “I’m not going to get into the history. You don’t need to know it.”
“That’s blunt.”
“It’s the truth. You ever been responsible for anyone, Idowu?”
“I’m a ship’s captain, of course I—”
“No. I mean beyond duty. Not being responsible because it’s what’s required of you or expected of you, but being responsible because you’ve chosen to be.”
Elias’s expression sobered. “Like family.”
Family had a lot of meanings. Soldiers had two families: the one you were born with and the one you found with your unit. Zed had always figured he’d lucked out in both cases, with parents and brothers who loved him and soldiers he’d been proud to serve with. Thing was, war tended to pull you away from one family and toss you at the other, and you had to go with it or you’d crumble. Worse, your unit would crumble. And then, sometimes, there was just no finding your way back to the family you’d been born with.
Sometimes, there was no finding yourself at all.
The captain turned back to the holoscreen, lifting his beer to his lips as he watched the cycle of the top stories restart. Zed waited, pulling on patience he hadn’t used much lately. Elias had to come to his own conclusions about this job. After a few minutes, once the security footage rolled around again, he let out a soft curse.
“Your little sister’s gotten herself into some deep shit.”
Little sister. That almost made Zed chuckle, since other than their size difference—he had about twenty centimeters on her—it couldn’t be further from the truth. They’d attended Shepard Academy together, an elite private school that funneled its graduates into specialized AEF training. Most of the time since graduation, Emma had acted like his big sister, offering advice, being a shoulder to lean on, a constant connection to his childhood. They’d watched out for one another.