by Carysa Locke
“Why not? He’s your family. He should be with you.”
Mercy rounded on him. The words burst out of her of their own volition. “Because I got his daughter poisoned, maybe killed, and it was all for nothing!”
Suddenly so furious she couldn’t contain the emotion, her free hand curled into a fist. She threw the glass with so much force it shattered against the nano-graph wall, spilling onto a plush hand-woven rug that probably cost more than three smuggling runs put together.
Reaper didn't react to her fit of rage. He just stood in the middle of the room, stoic and silent. He didn’t look reproving, or sympathetic, or raise an eyebrow at her to ask why. He just stood there. Mercy couldn’t decide if that was infuriating or an enormous relief. Maybe both, as odd as that was.
She covered her face with her hands, sitting heavily in one of the chairs. She took a long, shuddering breath, then another. Calmer, she let her hands drop.
“She told me not to look for her. It was a directive. An order. Above all else, if she ever disappeared I was supposed to do two things: run, and never look back. Never look for her. It was too dangerous.” The words sounded leaden and dull leaving her lips. “But I ignored that order from the very beginning. I never stopped looking for her. Not when it risked my own capture. No even when it put my only friend in jeopardy.”
“You were a child.”
She shrugged. “Like that’s an excuse.”
Reaper knelt beside her. “That’s your guilt talking. But it isn’t the real reason you’re unhappy.”
It forced her to look at him. So she glared. “No? I’m listening. Go ahead and tell me what I’m really unhappy about. This ought to be good coming from a guy who doesn’t feel.”
If she hoped to get a reaction from him by lashing out, she was doomed to disappointment. His body language didn’t change, his face didn’t so much as twitch, and his eyes remained bright blue.
“You’re finally accepting the loss of your mother. You’ve spent the last fifteen years in denial, and hearing Dem tonight made you understand that you can’t deny it anymore.”
Mercy didn’t answer right away. She looked away again, down at her hands, linked together in her lap. Finally, she cleared her throat. “That’s really perceptive for a guy who doesn’t feel.” She spoke the words softly, not intending to hurt this time.
“Just because I don’t feel as connected doesn’t mean I don’t understand loss. I grieved when my mother died.”
This time she met his eyes willingly. The anger was draining away, leaving sadness and shame in its wake. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “An advantage of not feeling is not taking things personally.”
Mercy winced. “Yeah, I didn’t mean that.” She reached over and took one of his hands. “I know you feel things. I’m just…looking for someone to take it out on.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry it was you.”
“I’m not.” His hand closed around her fingers. He stretched his legs out and sat on the floor. It couldn’t have been entirely comfortable, but Mercy was glad he didn’t move away to sit in the other chair. “Sanah told me you’d need me tonight. She could feel what was happening.”
Mercy gave a short laugh. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t have dinner with someone to show them all of your most private emotions.”
Now Reaper raised an eyebrow. “Keeping secrets on this ship is very difficult. I would think you’d know that by now.”
“I guess I’m still getting used to it.” Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them back. She was too tired to cry. “I miss her so much. I don’t know how to let her go.”
For the first time, Reaper looked uncomfortable. A frown pulled at his mouth. “I don’t know how to help with that. For me, my mother’s death was final. One day she was alive, and the next she was not. There was no in between. There is no such thing, with death. It just is.”
“I will probably never know what really happened to her. I’ll never have closure in that way.”
Reaper was silent for a long time. When he spoke, his tone was thoughtful. “Maybe not, but you can be assured of one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Your mother loved you enough to leave everything behind. To take you away from the rest of your family and into the territory of our enemies to protect you. She loved you very much.”
Mercy leaned her head back against the chair. “She did. But she was grieving, too, when she made that choice. My father had just died.”
“An accident?” Reaper’s tone made it clear he didn’t believe that any more than she did.
Mercy shook her head. “She never talked about it, or him. Eventually I stopped asking because she would only tell me he’d died to protect us. It was too painful for her, I think. But reading between the lines, I think Lilith had him killed.”
“A strong possibility. Your mother didn’t have consorts. She chose a husband. With him gone, she wouldn’t be producing more children anytime soon.”
Mercy tilted her head to look at him. “Do you remember him at all?”
“A little. I know Lilith didn’t approve of the marriage. Your father wasn’t a Core member. He was just a pilot with a fairly strong telekinetic gift. No one of consequence, in the Queen’s eyes.” Reaper was stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. It felt nice. Between the warmth of the whiskey in her stomach and the heat of his hand stroking hers, Mercy almost felt relaxed. “I don’t think Lilith was expecting the match to produce a queen.”
“What, she wanted my mother matched with someone powerful, but she didn’t want powerful grandchildren?” Mercy couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her tone.
“Oh, she did. Lilith had plans for all the members of her family, the more powerful the better. She just didn’t want any rivals.”
How did someone become like that? Was it the way Lilith was raised? The society she grew up in? Or something else, something she was born with?
“Do you think I’ll ever be like her?” Mercy voiced one of her greatest fears; that in embracing being a queen, she would grow to be like her grandmother.
Reaper gave her the ghost of a smile. “If I thought that, you’d be dead by now.”
This time she did laugh. It came out a little breathless. She blamed the whiskey. Or maybe there was something wrong with her that she found Reaper so attractive, even when he discussed the possibility of killing her. No, of not killing her.
She focused on his face, staring into his eyes. Her heartbeat increased. “Sanah told me something, too.” She sat up in her chair, leaning dangerously close to Reaper. He remained still, watching her. “She said if I wanted things to move forward, I was going to have to move them. That you don’t believe yet.”
“Believe what?”
“That you can be more than what you are.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. This time he accepted it right away, his mouth pliable and responsive. Heat flared between them immediately, combining with the whiskey in her gut to spread throughout her body like a flame. That didn’t stop Mercy from shivering with a sudden chill as Reaper broke the kiss.
“I think you might be a little bit drunk.” His face was still very close to hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.
She laughed. “Clearly you’ve never seen me drink before. I drink hardened smugglers under the table when I want to.” She reached out and threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. “I have a choice here. Either I can get drunk enough to forget everything I’m feeling tonight.”
She didn’t need to voice the other option. It hung in the air between them.
“You might regret this later.”
“Why? Because you’re a Killer? Please. We just had dinner with your brother and his family. Don’t hide behind what you are, Nik.”
He gave a small jerk of surprise at her use of his real name.
“For fifteen years I haven’t been able to forget you. I’m pretty sure the same is true for you. Don’t sit here and tell me I’m making a mistake.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Mercy didn’t give him another chance to argue. She kissed him again. She didn’t hold back, pouring everything she had into it. She’d never had to convince someone to go to bed with her before. For the most part, smugglers took their pleasure when and where they felt like it. She imagined most of the pirates were much the same. Even Killers like Reaper.
But Sanah had warned her while they were alone. Nik doesn’t know what to do with what he feels for you yet. Dem had me to help him understand his emotions. You’re not an empath, so you’ll have to help him understand another way. He’s going to be reluctant. He believes he can’t give you what you need, the emotional connection you deserve. He’s wrong.
Mercy kissed Reaper with wild abandon, using tongue and lips and teeth to coax him into an equally passionate response. His hands went to either side of her head, holding her in place while he stood up. He made a sound, and in the next moment everything flipped, and instead of Mercy being the aggressor, Reaper was.
He pressed her back against the chair. One hand fisted in her cotton shirt as he leaned over her, straddling either side of her legs. The other was in her hair, tangling in her braids and unraveling the seals so they came undone. Or maybe he’d already undone them with telekinesis. She couldn’t be sure, as heat swept through her, chasing away the last of her chill, his mouth moving over hers with an intensity that left her breathless.
He smelled clean. The faint scent of soap clung to his skin, in his hair, and his mouth tasted of the wine from dinner. The scruff along his jaw scraped her skin, but it didn’t hurt. It just added to the keen-edged need spiraling between them. Who knew that a man so emotionally removed could kiss with such feeling?
His hands slipped under her shirt, splayed over her ribs, trailing up to palm her breasts. They were warm and a little rough. Heat stabbed her gut, quick and sharp as a knife blade, and she gasped into his mouth.
“Reaper,” she managed, pulling her head back. No, that wasn’t his name. “Nikolos.”
He stared into her eyes, and she saw with a shudder that the color of his had deepened. Not the cold of the Killer, but more like the heat in the center of a blue star.
If you want to end this, do it now. His voice in her head was careful and controlled, and reflected none of the desire she knew was making his breath short and his heart race.
I started it. Why would I want to end it? To make her point, she pushed up his shirt, running her hands up the hard lines of his abdomen. He was tense beneath her touch, holding himself perfectly still.
I am not what you need. I could send someone else to you. One of my dogs.
Shocked, she stared at him, her mouth hanging open. “You did not just say that!”
Stubborn, he soldiered forward. You need someone to be with you tonight. You’re choosing me because I’m here, but there are better options—
Keep talking and I will fucking end this.
Wisely, he went silent. She took a deep breath, forcing aside her anger. This is what Sanah had warned her about. She could get angry, yell at him, destroy whatever progress they’d made. Or she could convince him he was being an idiot.
“I’m not choosing you because you’re convenient, Nik. I’m choosing you. I want you with me tonight, not just a warm body.” She gentled her tone, reaching up to cup the side of his face with one hand. She kept the other pressed against his side. “I know you feel it. This pull between us. The moment I saw you on that space station, before I knew who you were, that we’d met before. I felt it hit like a damn freighter crashing into me. It’s only gotten stronger the more I’ve come to know you.”
He struggled. She could feel it in the whirl of his thoughts, see it in the indecision on his face.
I’m not my brother. Dem is only a quarter Killer.
And Sanah is an empath. I know. We aren’t them. We can never be them, because we’re different people. She hesitated. I’ve never had a real relationship before. I tried once, but it wasn’t possible living the kind of life I had, keeping so many secrets, preparing to run at any moment. Sex was just sex. I don’t want that with you.
It’s all I have to offer.
I don’t believe that.
She stretched up and kissed him again. Leaned forward until she was pressed against him, feeling his heartbeat against her as she played with his mouth, coaxing once again.
I’ll hurt you. He was still holding back, stubborn man.
The very fact that you care about that possibility proves my point. Now stop talking.
She stood up, forcing him back. She was almost as tall as Reaper. Standing, she had the leverage she needed to press herself fully against him, her hands once again running over the hard planes of his chest until she’d pushed his shirt all the way up. His breath hitched when she bent her head and followed the path of her hands with her mouth.
It wasn't until cold air hit her back that she realized her shirt was being cut from her body. With an icy precision of Talent that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck, sending a chill down her spine far colder than the temperature in the room warranted.
She looked up at Reaper through half-lidded eyes. “I liked that shirt.”
I’ll get you another.
Stepping away for a moment, she shimmied out of her pants before he could destroy them as well. “I don’t see you cutting your clothes free. Maybe I should try?”
He lifted his shirt from his head and threw it aside. The rest of his clothing followed quickly. I don’t yet trust your control for such work. Amusement lifted the corners of his mouth.
He stepped close and captured her hands before she could finish removing every scrap of clothing. “Hey—” His mouth covered hers, and he used that kiss ruthlessly, his tongue teasing, his stubble a scrape against her skin. Everything narrowed to that contact until she wasn’t aware of anything else. Until, her hands still held by him, she felt a phantom touch stroke down her back, and cup her hard against him. The length of his cock pressed against the juncture of her thighs and she gasped. The thin barrier of her underwear was at once frustrating and erotic.
You are a lot more playful than I ever would have guessed.
I’m not playing. He moved against her slowly, his chest a hard wall pressed against her breasts while he tortured her with his hips. It turned her legs to water, and she was pretty sure she’d have fallen if he hadn't been holding her up.
He lifted her up, and her legs went around his waist automatically. He continued kissing her as he walked them to the alcove with her bed. They sank down among the linens and pillows, her legs still locked around him. His cock continued to tease her, each slide becoming more excruciating until the small triangle of cloth between them was torture instead of a tease. Before Mercy could say anything, the material parted and fell away. She gasped as his warm flesh connected with her own. Her arousal made the next slide so smooth, it was as if he was already inside her.
The first glimmer of an orgasm sparked within her center, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, panting. He knew. He took her head in his hands and kissed her deeply, slowing the thrust of his hips until the spark built so slowly she wanted to scream. Her legs trembled and she tried to thrust against him harder. Something held her hips still.
Reaper, damn you.
Just wait.
A long, slow thrust, then another. The tension built, coiling tighter, the pleasure increasing. Mercy moaned into his mouth. Abruptly he changed the tempo, thrusting hard and fast, his skin scraping against her clit. She did scream then, the pleasure cresting over her in a wave.
Reaper barely gave her time to recover, her limbs just turning languid when he lifted her hips and thrust into her. Her skin was already sensitive from the orgasm. She gritted her teeth as he slid inside, sparks dancing behind her eyes. Perspiration dotted his s
kin beneath her hands, the only evidence of what his control cost him.
You are an evil man.
Killers can see where you’re most vulnerable. One of the easiest times to kill anyone is while they’re distracted with sex and pleasure.
His hips began to move, a steady, fast rhythm this time. Tension coiled in her center again, more intense the second time. Mercy couldn’t remember the last time she’d had more than one orgasm during sex. Most of her liaisons were short and fast by necessity. This was something entirely different. She could feel a level of intimacy she’d never known in the connection of their minds and bodies.
Are you saying your Talent shows you how best to pleasure me?
Something like that.
He propped himself above her, his arms bracketing her. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them. She reached up a hand to trace his face as his hips thrust against her, lifting her own to match his rhythm. This time, no phantom hands held her still.
Why are women not lining up to take you to bed?
You know the answer to that.
The pleasure coiled tighter, spiraled higher, and she bit her lip, arching against him. She could feel it in the way he moved, the tension in his body, his mind. He was close. He shuddered, and in the next instant the pleasure broke over them both. Mercy pressed her mouth to his shoulder, letting the waves wash through her. It lasted long enough that when her muscles finally relaxed, it was a relief.
She lay still, breathing hard, listening as Reaper’s breathing slowed in her ear. He was a heavy weight for another minute or so, before he rolled away to settle comfortably beside her.
Those women are all idiots.
Which women?
The ones too frightened to be with you. Their loss. My gain. She felt adrift, lazy, content. “That was intense.” She spoke the words aloud while Reaper stroked lazy fingers over her shoulder. It was pleasant, comforting. Her eyes drifted shut. Exactly what I needed.
Good. You should sleep while you can.