by Megan Hart
Chance smirked at him and toyed with the fastening on the long jacket. Her head tilted. They had hours until the ship regenerated, after all. “I’m offended that you only look.”
“Believe me, you don’t want to take it further.” Ramius turned towards another door, the dull metal drawing back as he approached. The lights in the room beyond eased over the ceiling and walls, revealing bunks, a table with chairs and the metal curve of a food processing unit.
Chance couldn’t help herself. Her gaze trailed the length of his lean body. She would regret not stripping Ramius out of his stolen uniform and discovering the promised perfection of his body. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He sank onto one of the lower bunks and placed the Etuis on the smooth blanket beside him. He worked the collar of his shirt loose, sliding fingers under the thick fabric to rub at his collarbone. “What do you get from sex?”
A laugh escaped her. “Have you been chatting with my psychs?” Her palm ran over the metal counter of the food unit and it flared into life, the ordering column and service hatch humming. Her thoughts streamed over it and a mug appeared. She breathed in the sharp tang of fresh tea. “They often asked me that. Jovian morality at work.” She smirked at him over the rim of her cup before taking a sip and almost sighing. “It annoyed them that I enjoyed it.”
His eyes narrowed and Chance had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see the thoughts in her head. She shut her implant, withdrawing all connections from the surrounding equipment. No one could hack a closed chip…though, of course, he wasn’t implanted. Chance relaxed her shoulders. She was safe.
“They caught you more than once because of a man.”
Chance shrugged. “They were there, I was there. I don’t waste opportunities.” She waved her mug at him. “Which brings me very nicely back to you.”
He unstrapped the first of the guards’ guns from his thigh, strong, quick fingers working the buckles free. He didn’t look up. “That would be a bad idea.”
She leaned back against the counter. The overhead bunk blocked the soft light and drew heavy shadows over his face. She couldn’t read him…and that unnerved her. John Ramius was an enigma. Her head tilted. “You’ve been in solitary for a year and you’re turning me down. That makes no sense.”
He glanced up and a ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “I am registered as criminally insane.”
Chance grinned around the rim of her cup. He’d changed the subject. “You’re not interested in women?”
“Oh, I like women,” he murmured, and the undercurrent, the carnal promise in his voice, had her pulling in a short breath and her nipples aching. “But as I said…”
“You have a kink?”
Ramius snorted and his fingers paused as they unfastened the second gun. “Yes, you could say I have a kink.”
“All right, now I’m curious.”
He met her gaze, and the warmth of humour left her. The cold face of a killer held her, all sense—possibly pretence—of banter gone. Her heart thudded in the endless, silent seconds and, damn it, his dark side tugged at her. A light shone in his eyes, and Chance recognised the quick surge of lust, felt it echoed in her own flesh. His change was palpable. Had her curiosity sparked something in him?
“Don’t be.”
“Why?”
Ramius pushed himself up and her heart gave an excited jump. She was crazy, she was, to continue to push him. He was the Butcher and she’d seen the grisly evidence of his work…but… He was closing the distance between them with predatory grace. Blood pounded in her temples and her body ached. Sex made her feel alive, and every part of her burned right then.
Ramius took the mug from her lax fingers and put it behind her. His body blocked her and he gripped the edge of the counter, trapping her. Chance held his shadowed gaze, finding the familiar curl of lust and something else she couldn’t name. He leaned in, his mouth almost, almost, brushing her lips, and she drew in a sharp breath. “I don’t play games, Chance. I can’t.” His mouth moved and his whisper stirred the shell of her ear. She swallowed. “I’ve thought about fucking you, hard, fast, up against the nearest wall.” He paused, and in the short silence there was only the pounding of blood in her ears. “I know that’s the way you want it.” Ramius leaned in closer. “But I won’t ever do that.”
Her fingers curled into her palms, nails digging sharp into her skin, and she held her hands tight to her breastbone. If she pushed her hands against the hardness of his chest, felt the thud of his heart, the warmth of his skin…she would have to nip at his tempting earlobe.
His scent, spiced, seductive, wrapped around her. He was so tempting… Chance teased with the tip of her tongue, tasting his skin. She moaned. John Ramius tasted even better than he looked.
“Chance…” The soft growl forced her fingers to clutch at his shirt. “Stop now, and I won’t take this further.”
His words sounded reasonable, but she didn’t miss the need thickening his voice. A need that also spun though her blood. She nipped at his earlobe and his hiss burned her skin. “I think you will.”
Ramius glared at her, his green eyes darkened. The slight parting of his mouth teased her. She moved before she realised, her lips covering his, tasting his bottom lip before she pressed harder and their tongues touched. The contact surged through her and, with a soft groan, Chance deepened the kiss.
He didn’t resist…but he wasn’t playing either. Frustration pulled her back. She glared at him. “Damn it, Ramius.”
He gave her a wicked grin, and the need to shove him back against the nearest wall rushed her. Her hands fisted the front of his shirt. Ramius glanced down before finding her gaze again. “You need to control how I react to you. But that’s not going to happen.” The shine to his eyes had her wanting to kiss him again. Hard. “No. You’re going to give your control to me.”
She’s got him right where he wants her.
Enslaved
© 2008 Sydney Somers
Dominion sentinel Kaela Garrett will go to any lengths to gather evidence against a suspected traitor, even if it means auctioning off her body to the highest bidder. Posing as a slave should have been the perfect cover to gain access to an exclusive gala. Only she hadn’t anticipated a sexy treasure salvager with a grudge outbidding everyone—including her mark—to possess her.
Lorcan Hunt can’t believe the very sentinel who had him arrested six weeks ago is on the auction block, completely at his mercy. What better way to get even—and pass the time until his next job—than force her to submit to every new and wicked revenge he can imagine? His every demand for her submission, however, comes with a price: a burning need that slides under his skin and grows stronger with every concession she makes.
When Kaela finally gives in to the fierce desire between them, Lorcan finds himself hopelessly caught in an impossible choice. Honor the commitment binding him to his next job—or hold onto the one woman he can never have.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Enslaved:
Kaela scowled at the restraints, jerking their joined wrists up to eye level. “Don’t feel obligated to lavish me with gifts so soon, Hunt. Might give a girl expectations.” And make it a whole lot harder to maintain a respectable distance between them.
A satisfied smile caught the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t want to lose my slave in the crowd.”
“I’ll bet.”
Without warning, he snaked an arm around her, hauling her closer.
Too close. Breathing now meant drawing him in, letting him overwhelm her senses when she was still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. Events that gave him every legal right to drag her around. For now. She’d taken the mission knowing the risks, agreed to the terms set forth by the bondskeeper and hadn’t complained, even when the final step meant accepting the mark of an indentured slave on her hip.
But she sure as hell wanted to complain now. The arm looped around her back felt too tight, the grip too possessive, the man holding her too dangerous,
arrogant and out of his ever-lovin’ mind. Plastered to his front, the hard planes of his chest made her increasingly aware of how little she wore, and each steady inhale only made the silk bunched between their bodies less noticeable. Seeing as how his gaze dropped to her cleavage, which was perilously close to spilling over his hasty tie job, he knew it too.
“The only expectations you need to worry about,” he growled, “are mine. More specifically, how many ways I’ll want your legs wrapped around me.” His rough voice and the hypnotic sweep of his thumb along her jaw made for a treacherous combination. Made it impossible not to think about it—his body covering hers, his mouth sliding down her throat and her legs anchored around his hips, locking him against her, inside her.
Which made it pretty damn impressive she could respond at all. “Either they left you in solitary confinement too long, or you’ve always been this deluded.”
The dig had the desired effect. Lorcan’s expression darkened and he spun around, jerking her after him. Left with barely enough time to suck in a relieved breath, she had no choice but to follow. It was either that or be dragged. Taking a stand against her prime in the middle of the promenade would land her in the brig faster than being caught on the run.
And that was the best-case scenario. She refused to consider the lengths to which some primes went to teach their slaves a lesson in obedience. Kaela hadn’t forgotten the party she’d attended while tracking a Battalian scientist wanted for testing his biological weapons on innocent settlers in the Astral quadrant.
Lorcan strode away from the promenade, away from Varek’s slave dealer and Caplan. The farther he led her along the spaceport’s winding corridors, the more determined she became to devise a new plan.
Getting him alone could give her the opportunity to incapacitate him, but wouldn’t solve the problem of disengaging the locking mechanism on the bands joining them. She’d need tools for that. Unfortunately, lugging around an unconscious man until she could track down something to do the job would be a bit too conspicuous.
All of which left her back at square one.
He picked up the pace, turning toward the port’s merchant district.
“Hunt,” she began.
“I think Master has a much better ring to it, don’t you?”
“So does fuck y—”
He turned a corner off the main corridor, one she suspected led to a maintenance shaft, and pivoted to face her. “I think you and I need to come to an understanding.”
Kaela snorted. “I think you need to let go of me.” She stared at the hand that molded to her upper arm, mentally running down and discarding any maneuver that would involve breaking her own wrist or arm to get him to release her. Being Lorcan’s slave didn’t qualify for that kind of extreme measure. Yet.
“Now that’s the beauty of this arrangement,” he continued. “What you think doesn’t matter.”
An old anger flared to life inside her, his tone a little too reminiscent of superior officers who’d made it their personal mission to remind her, as often as possible, they didn’t believe she’d earned her position on merit alone. More than once she’d been tempted to point out her mother hadn’t involved herself in Kaela’s life since becoming a quadrant chancellor years ago, let alone pulled any strings where her career was concerned.
Overtly disagreeing with those ignorant opinions had always landed her the shit assignments. She didn’t doubt that disagreeing with Lorcan now would invite retaliation, one she feared would prove she hadn’t been the right sentinel for this assignment. Not taking into account Lorcan’s unexpected role.
Stumbling across Hunt outside a trading settlement on the Outer Rim had given her a way to evade the handful of mercenaries looking for her. Escaping them without having obtained her mission objective or positively identifying the Dominion official Varek was suspected of bribing pissed her off more than getting caught. She hadn’t expected to find anything on Hunt’s ship when he gave her a ride to the closest spaceport, least of all cargo that didn’t belong to him. “It wasn’t personal.”
A cold smile hugged his lips. “It was to me.”
“I was doing my job.”
“We both know you could have looked the other way.”
Not when looking the other way meant ignoring the duties and responsibilities she took seriously. Once any Dominion officer started down that path, letting greed compromise their integrity, a one-way trip to Dadelus penal colony lurked right around the corner.
Lorcan’s eyes narrowed. “You cost me a lot of money.”
“Here’s a tip. Don’t steal.”
“You made the wrong call.”
“Not my problem.”
He leaned in, his mouth hovering above her ear. “It is now.”