by Megan Hart
He stared at her. “But…”
Milla shook her head again, her smile faltering. She turned away. “No, Jarden. I mean it. I couldn’t have let you sacrifice yourself to protect me, and I can’t bind you to me either. I know what it’s like to be bound to someone who doesn’t love me. I don’t want to do that ever again.”
The soft sound of his breathing was all she heard. Then the soft pad of his footsteps as he went to the door. The room shuddered. The lights flickered. The automated announcement told them the Pleasure Princess was once more engaged in interstellar travel.
And when she looked up, Jarden had done just what she wanted.
He was gone.
“Hot pussy,” Pete moaned. “Hot, wet, slick pussy.”
“Yeah, man. Whatever.” Jarden rolled over in his bunk to face the wall, while Pete watched the jack-off channel. “Take my shift and get all the hot pussy you want.”
“You mean it?” Pete sounded happy.
Fuck. Pete always sounded happy. “Yeah, man. I mean it.”
“You don’t have to work?”
Not with the credits in his account, he didn’t. Jarden pulled the covers up higher around his neck. In two more days they’d reach the end of the cruise and he’d be able to get off this ship too. Pick a destination, any one he wanted.
Or he could give her back the money, annul the contract, stay on the Pleasure Princess as she turned to make her way back across the universe, and wait another year while he earned his freedom with his cock.
Jarden groaned.
“You all right?” Pete placed a hand on Jarden’s shoulder. “Do you need the medbot?”
“No. Just tired.”
Pete didn’t really understand tired, but he left Jarden alone. Which is what he wanted. Wasn’t it? With another groan, Jarden punched the pillow.
He’d been with hundreds of women, and Milla Sulay wasn’t the first who’d tasted good, or smelled good, or who’d writhed on his cock like a goddess. She didn’t have to be the last either…but she could be.
Muttering, Jarden rolled onto his back to stare up at the top of the bunk above him. Field-husband. A fancy word for indentured fuck-slave, wasn’t it? Sure, field-husbands weren’t contractually bound to have sex with their partners. They got a share of the land, the profits. Field-husbands had rights.
But they were still bought and paid for, and that was something Jarden had vowed not to be once he got off this ship.
“Can I really have your shift?” Pete asked when the service light started blinking.
“COKs never quit, right?” Jarden didn’t look at him.
“Never quit!”
“Go for it, buddy.”
Jarden didn’t turn to watch him leave the small room they’d shared for five years. Pete didn’t bother saying goodbye or anything like that. COKs weren’t known for their manners.
Jarden rolled onto his stomach to bury himself in the darkness beneath his blankets, but sleep eluded him. Instead, a fall of sleek, pale hair and bright, twinkling blue eyes formed a vision in his head. Milla.
He’d seen her a few times before voluntarily imprisoning himself in his room. In the dining room and once on the vast star deck. She’d smiled at him and nodded, but made no move to talk to him, and he felt like more of an ass than ever for leaving the way he had.
His stomach growled now, but the thought of ordering another meal in this room defused his hunger. The thought of watching another porn-vid, or reading another holo-bloid turned his stomach too. In fact, Jarden thought, as he tossed off the blankets with a growl, being in this frigging room much longer was going to drive him crazy.
If he couldn’t even stand to stay in a cruiser cabin for a few days, how could he ever have imagined he’d be able to make it in prison? And he’d been saved from that certain fate by whom?
Milla. The woman who’d offered him the chance to have everything he’d been working for. And what was keeping him from taking her up on her offer?
“Nothing but my damned pride,” Jarden said aloud.
Too bad he didn’t have anything else.
Selcka, one year later
Milla had waited until the sun dove behind the mountains before dipping herself a drink from the jug of water on her counter. Real, fresh water, a luxury she needed to carefully parcel out to herself, but one she deserved.
She’d worked hard, supervising the fields that day and making sure her workers had all been paid before they took off for the three-day Selkcan holiday. She planned to use those three days to sleep, eat and read the carton of magazines that had finally arrived in the last shipment of supplies. Real paper magazines, something she hadn’t seen in years on Nidar, but which were common enough in Selkca’s single city. Out here on the homestead, a good magazine could be read over and over, then recycled into many uses.
Milla was looking forward to the next three days, when she’d be without duties to perform. The Selkcan ’steaders had formed a close-knit community. She had friends. She’d even been courted, sort of, by a few of the single men and by one or two of those with wives too. Her life on Selkca was fulfilling and good…and incredibly hard. Could anyone blame her if she chose to stay at home, relaxing, instead of mingling with the rest of the holiday celebrants?
So, when the knock came at her door, Milla was less than pleased. Assuming it was Heldaig, the Selkcan native she’d hired to assist her, Milla flung open her door with a sigh.
And promptly lost her breath.
“Jarden?”
He nodded. “Milla. Hi.”
She stepped aside at once to let him in, her mind already whirling with the thoughts about how he didn’t have to wait for her to open the door. He could just push inside. Technically, he owned part of this house. This land. Part of everything she’d worked for, so hard, because though he hadn’t come there with her, he’d never had the contract annulled.
“Thanks.” Jarden smiled at her, and her heart leaped at the memory of his touch.
She served him sweet Selkcan tea and cookies from a tin that had traveled far and were a welcome treat despite being stale. They sat across from each other in her tiny kitchen. Their knees bumped beneath her table.
“So,” she said when she couldn’t stop herself from it any more, “why are you here?”
Jarden pulled a small cloth bag from the pocket of his jumpsuit and pushed it across the table to her. “I owe you this.”
Milla didn’t take it. “You don’t.”
He smiled. “Yes, I do. And I worked my ass off for a year to get it, so don’t turn me down.”
She didn’t have to open the bag to know it contained Selkcan crystals. Currency. She looked up at him. “You never annulled the contract.”
Jarden shook his head. “No.”
“Why?”
He sighed and scrubbed at his face. “I didn’t want to. But I didn’t want to show up with a debt on my hands either.”
He got up, paced the floor, looked out her small window to the night beyond. When he finally turned to her, Milla realized she was holding her breath. He moved fast, too fast for her to get away, and took her hands to pull her to her feet.
“You still don’t know me,” he said.
She shook her head, but didn’t pull her hands from his. “No. But you don’t know me either.”
He stroked her hair away from her face. “It’s crazy to make a life with a stranger, isn’t it?”
“No more than many others have done,” Milla replied. Her mouth parted, waiting for him to kiss her, but Jarden didn’t.
“You’ll take the money?”
“If you want me to.” She smiled, inching closer. “It’s not like I couldn’t use it.”
“You’ve made a success of this place,” Jarden said as the distance between them became nothing.
“I have. Thanks. But there’s still more work to do. Always more. And I could really use someone to share it with, Jarden.” Milla stretched onto her toes to give him her mouth.
This time, he took it. His hands tightened around her. He tasted of sweet tea and crumbled cookies, and his body was hard, tight and welcome against hers.
“And you’re willing for that person to be me?” he asked into her ear. “You’re sure?”
Milla laughed gently and pulled away to look into his face. “There are worse things to base a relationship on than sexual compatibility.”
Jarden laughed, too, after a minute, then hugged her tight to his chest. “Don’t you want to ask me why I came here?”
“No.” She sighed, holding him. “But if you want to tell me, please do.”
“I couldn’t forget you,” he told her. “Milla, I don’t know if this is going to work, but if it doesn’t—”
“It’s a contract,” she reminded him. “And you’ll owe me nothing.”
“And if it does work?” he asked.
Milla smiled, already leading him toward the bedroom. “Then you won’t ever have to try to forget me again.”
He followed her willingly enough. “Just like that? We’re going to try this?”
“Jarden,” Milla told him as she undid the stick-seam on his jumpsuit, “you’re the only man I’ve ever had an orgasm with. Aside from that, you were willing to sacrifice yourself to keep me from harm, and you barely knew me. I think that, no matter what else might happen, I’m willing to give this a try. Yes.”
She bared him and ran her hands down his smooth skin, then looked up to his handsome face. A face she was willing to accept as her field-husband, her partner. A face she was willing to try to love.
“Jarden?”
“Yes, Milla?”
“I haven’t made love in over a year. I’d really like it if we could celebrate our new partnership the old-fashioned way.”
His grin took her breath away, as did the way he dipped her down to kiss her thoroughly. “Anything you want, Milla. Anything you want.”
About the Author
When she was in the third grade, Megan Hart fell in love for the first time. Not with a boy (that would wait until fourth grade), but with a story. “The Homecoming” by Ray Bradbury leaped out at her from the pages of a library book, and she tumbled head over heels. In the dark ages, before the days of photocopiers, the only way for her to keep a copy of this story was to copy it out by hand so she could read it over and over again. Something funny happened, though, as she carefully printed it on lined notebook paper.
She made “improvements.”
At age 12, reading Stephen King’s The Stand for the first time one memorable summer, it occurred to her that people really did write books for a living. That’s when she decided to become an author. Megan began writing short fantasy, horror and science fiction before graduating to novel-length romances. In 1998 as a stay-home mom, Megan took up writing in earnest, attending her first writing conference and getting her first request for a full manuscript. In 2002 she saw her first book in print, and she hasn’t stopped since.
Published in almost every genre of romance fiction, Megan also writes fantasy, science fiction, women’s fiction, horrifyingly awful screenplays, and continues to occasionally dabble in horror.
Megan’s goal is to continue writing the kind of books she’d like to read. She spends too much time playing The Sims. Her dream is to have a movie made of every one of her novels, starring herself as the heroine and Keanu Reeves as the hero. Megan lives in the deep, dark woods with her husband and two monsters…er…children.
Learn more about Megan at her website, www.meganhart.com and her blog at www.readinbed.net. Follow her on Twitter: www.twitter.com/Megan_Hart and at Facebook: www.facebook.com/megan.hart.
Look for these titles by Megan Hart
Now Available:
Passion Model
Amidst a Crowd of Stars
Tithed
Coming Soon:
Bachelor Number Four
A love as a rare—and precious—as a desert rain.
Amidst a Crowd of Stars
© 2010 Megan Hart
Marrin Levy needs a man. Not to have children. Her husband gave her three before he died—along with a failing homestead and crushing debt. What she needs is a strong back to help her wrest a living from the harsh, desert plant of Lujawed.
She’s sent away for a field-husband to take over the hard labor, nothing more. She never expected the devastatingly handsome, forever-young Seveeran, Keane Delacore, would fit so easily into her family’s life.
Keane’s heart is as strong as his back, bringing Marrin more than just help in the fields. He offers her love she never thought she’d feel again…if she has the courage to reach out and take it.
Warning: Contains three-alarm love scenes and a three-hankie love story. Read it and weep—in a good way!
Enjoy the following excerpt for Amidst a Crowd of Stars:
The colony was still small enough to support group celebrations like this one. The tables had been set with flowers and pretty cloths. A band hired to provide music. Food, laid out in a bounty that proved to any who doubted how prosperous they’d all become.
Marrin watched Sarai chattering with her friends. Her other daughters, Aliya and Hadassah, had also abandoned the dull company of their parents to seek their companions. Marrin had a plate of salad and a glass of iced water, but wasn’t doing much beyond looking around in amazed pride.
“You’re Sarai’s mother, aren’t you?”
Marrin turned at the question to see a woman of about her own age she faintly recognized. “Yes. I’m Marrin Levy.”
“Arlene Simpson. I’m Jack’s mom.”
Marrin didn’t know Jack, but she smiled and nodded anyway. Keane came up beside her and put his arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently before stepping away to take the plate from her hands and begin finishing the salad.
“Hi,” he greeted Arlene.
The other woman’s eyes widened slightly. “Hello. I’m Jack’s mom.” Her smile thinned as she looked at Marrin.
Keane smiled and shrugged, more honest in his reply than Marrin had been. “Sorry, I don’t know Jack.”
“Jack Simpson?” Arlene’s tone clearly said Keane ought to know him. “He might be a year or two behind you.”
Keane paused with the fork halfway to his mouth, an eyebrow raised. “Sorry?”
Marrin tensed, her gut twisting. It wasn’t the first time their apparent age difference had been brought up in casual conversation, but it had been quite a while. Anyone who knew them knew Keane wasn’t as young as his Seveeran genetics made him appear.
“My son,” Arlene said patiently, as though Keane were an idiot. “He graduated today with your girlfriend.”
“My girlfriend?” Keane’s face showed an amusement Marrin envied, but didn’t feel. He looked around the room, clearly biting back a laugh.
“Well, yes…you’re Sarai’s boyfriend, aren’t you? I just guessed you—”
“You guessed because I was here with Marrin and behaving in such a familiar manner that I must somehow be related to her, and you assumed for some reason I was here because of her daughter, who graduated today with your son.” His smile remained pleasant, his voice light, but he’d set down his plate and put an arm around Marrin’s shoulders.
Arlene looked confused, from Keane to Marrin and back again. “Well, yes.”
“Marrin is my wife,” said Keane without changing his tone.
If the woman’s face could have blushed any more crimson, Marrin didn’t see how. Arlene Simpson stammered and stuttered and backed away like Keane had somehow insulted her when really, she was the one who’d put her foot in her mouth.
It made Marrin feel no better to watch the other woman’s distress. Much of the time she could forget her husband was of a different race that didn’t age the same way Earthers did. She aged every day. Keane did not.
What a girl wants—and what a girl needs—are sometimes two different things…
Breaking Chance
© 2010 Kim Knox
For Meliss
a “Lucky” Chance, another stretch in Ganymede’s ice prison is nothing new. The flash-freeze that’s supposed to destroy her will only leaves her with an insatiable desire for the first hot body she lays eyes on. Except this time, she faces a death sentence. Her only hope of escape lies with the man known as The Butcher.
John Ramius understands the logic behind his conviction as a criminally insane mass murderer. No man should have been able to slaughter over fifty men in as many minutes, but no one sees the underlying curse that compels him to sense—and fulfill—someone’s deepest need. Chance’s skill will free him to kill the Sun-King; he will find no rest until he does.
As they run from the forces of the Jovian colonies, Ramius finds himself temporarily sidetracked, not only by Chance’s relentless desire, but by her underlying, unspoken need. Ignoring it—or his own compulsion to do every wicked thing to her imaginable—is not an option.
Only after all their defenses are stripped away do they discover that their meeting wasn’t by chance. Someone is manipulating them both, and the only way out is the path to their destruction…
Warning: This book contains explicit sex, thieves, murderers, a sentient ship and a hero who will give you exactly what you need. Not responsible for reader’s sudden compulsion to jump significant other’s bones.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Breaking Chance:
“I saw you looking.”
Colour flushed under his cheeks—a strange reaction for a psychopath—but then his darkened eyes fixed on her. The intent in them dried her mouth. She had to have imagined the embarrassed burn under his skin. “You want men to look.” A door rolled open in the smooth wall, and he pushed her forward. Soft light chased around the curve of the ceiling and illuminated a basic console room, instrumentation glowing, its hum working under skin. The door slid back, a series of clunks and a long hiss securing it. He released her arm. “You’re offended when I don’t look.”