Lex Talionis

by Keira Michelle Telford

  “I wish we were alone,” Ria coos against her ear, savoring every kiss and nip.

  “Me, too.” Silver targets her mouth. “I’d give anything to taste more than just your lips.”

  As those words hit the air, a surge of arousal ripples through Ria’s body. That very morning, she’d snuck away from Silver’s warm embrace before the crack of dawn—keeping her promise to Memina—and indulged in a private fantasy of having Silver plant tender, loving kisses between her thighs. She’d made herself come twice, both times in the shower, paranoid about making too much noise.

  Fortunately, after spending four consecutive nights lying mere inches away from the object of her rapidly intensifying desire, her releases had come easily and swiftly. The first one in under thirty seconds, and the next in little more than two minutes.

  She blushes at the memory of it, the need for another orgasm building. Silver’s massaging her ass, hip, waist, and thigh, kissing her all the while, and it’s making her head spin.

  “Are you wet again?” Silver whispers, breaking the kisses for a moment.

  “Konechno,” Ria whispers back. “Of course.”

  Silver brushes her fingertips over the apex of Ria’s kicksies—so close to her sex—before sneaking beneath her shirt and over her stomach, up to her chest.

  “I want another feel.” She traces her fingertips over Ria’s ribs. “Your cunt’s so perfect.” She tiptoes her hand back down to Ria’s kicksies, only to be stopped before reaching the waistband.

  “Nyet.” Ria slaps away her hand. “You have less self-control than I do. I knew you wanted more than a cuddle.”

  She giggles, Silver tickling her instead.

  “Cut it out.” Carmen kicks Silver in the back. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

  Ria pinches her lips shut, stifling more laughter, and gives Silver one quick peck on the mouth before rolling over.

  “Behave,” she warns. “You’re a bad influence.”

  “You like me this way.” Silver nibbles on her earlobe.

  “Sshhh. Spokoynoy nochi.” Ria closes her eyes, holding back a smile. “Goodnight.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Shortly after waking, Silver slips in through the partially open bathroom door and catches Ria in the midst of her morning routine. Her dress is on, but partially unlaced, her corset exposed while she untangles the ribbon to finish threading it the rest of the way up.

  Eventually, she notices Silver spying on her.

  “I didn’t take you for a peeping tom.” She smirks, finally getting the knot out of the ribbon and pulling it through the rest of the eyelets.

  “It’s not peeping if you know I’m looking.” Silver sits down on a wooden chair at the edge of the room.

  “What is it, then?” Ria spots a wicked, hopeful twinkle in Silver’s eyes, and her anatomy responds with a strong pang of desire.

  “Foreplay.”

  Pricking her ears for sounds in the neighboring room, Ria hears nothing but the hum of machinery, the banging of a blacksmith’s mallet, and the bustle of everyday street life streaming in through the open bathroom window.

  She takes a step toward Silver, tentatively fingering the lacing on her dress, flirting with the thought of untying it again. “Where are Carmen and Oliver?”

  “Foraging for breakfast.” Silver leans back, sliding her hips slightly forward, tempting Ria to sit. “It’s just the two of us.”

  Her legs weak with nervous passion, Ria hikes up her dress and lowers herself onto Silver’s lap, straddling her thighs. Hoping her anxiety is imperceptible, she wraps her arms around Silver’s neck, hiding her trembling hands from view.

  Scarcely breathing, she brings her lips against Silver’s, hovering a hair’s breadth away, lingering on the cusp of a kiss.

  “Do you want to make love to me?”

  Silver, characteristically calm and confident, slips her hands beneath Ria’s dress. Never breaking eye contact, she trails both hands up Ria’s thighs, around her hips, inside her knickers, groping her bare ass.

  “Over and over again.”

  Ria goes the final distance, leaning in for a kiss, gliding her slender fingers over Silver’s shoulders and chest. Sneaking beneath all the layers of clothing, she takes Silver’s naked breasts in her hands, fondling them for the first time, her caresses firm and self-assured.

  Silver’s nipples harden at Ria’s touch and she whines. Ria’s hands are so delicate and soft; they feel unbelievably sensual and tender, like silk against her skin. In contrast, Alex’s hands are rough and manly, calloused from decades of blisters and cuts and scrapes. His forceful handling and the friction against her skin turns her on in its own way, but it’s not like this. The only friction in Ria’s fondling is caused by the deliberate scrape of her nails.

  “Take me to bed,” Ria begs huskily, pinching Silver’s prominent nipples between her fingers.

  Silver doesn’t need to be asked twice. She lifts Ria off her lap and pushes her into the bedroom. Were she still activated, she could pick her up and carry her there, throwing her onto the bed with gusto. As it is, she has to settle for a more restrained tumble, one on top of the other.

  Their lips locked together, she unlaces Ria’s dress, pausing briefly to ogle the corset before reaching for the bow at her bust.

  “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met in my life,” she mumbles between lip-locks, then pulls back to undress Ria’s breasts.

  After tugging the bow undone, she eases the lacing through one eyelet at a time, baring Ria’s skin inch by inch. For Ria, the torment of having to wait to be touched is almost impossible to abide—but Silver’s not about to rush.

  When, finally, she loosens the fabric enough to slip her hand inside, she plants her palm flat against Ria’s chest, sliding down between her breasts, touching her ever so lightly, making her whimper with anticipation.

  She’s so eager to tear the corset off, but she keeps her lust at bay and bends to kiss Ria’s pale skin, working her lips from Ria’s neck down to her chest, planting kisses from top to bottom along her sternum.

  “Pozhaluysta!” Ria gasps. “Please, darling, give me more.”

  The words barely escape her lips before Silver responds, peeling back the fabric of the corset to cast eyes on her bare chest.

  “Shit.” She scoops one of Ria’s breasts into her hand, finding the fullness of them to be no lingerie illusion. “You’re gorgeous.”

  While she teases one of Ria’s nipples between her fingers, coaxing it into a firm pebble, she massages the other one with her tongue, sucking it into her mouth.

  Ria fists Silver’s hair, moaning quietly. Silver’s mouth feels so good on her skin, arousing her to the point of frenzy. Her nipples are so stiff, so swollen, her body so desperate for Silver’s hot kisses to move south, and it’s not long before the incessant throbbing and flooding between her thighs becomes too intense to ignore.

  “Kiss me,” she demands.

  Without hesitation, Silver pinches Ria’s nipple gently between her teeth once more, then rubs it against her palm, lifting her head to satisfy the needs of her lover. But she’s rebuffed.

  Ria presses her fingers against Silver’s lips, preventing the kiss. “Not on my mouth.” She guides Silver’s face down between her legs instead.

  No argument.

  Silver bunches the dress up around Ria’s hips and hooks two fingers over the hem of her undies. Wriggling down on the bed, she brings her face up to Ria’s starved core, breathing in the scent of her arousal, salivating at the thought of tasting her.

  “God, you smell so good.”

  Lunging forward, she nips the elastic waistband between her teeth, purrs softly, and prepares to yank them down …

  Slam!

  The bedroom door swings open so hard it hits the wall, rebounds, and almost flings back into the face of the person who opened it.

  Carmen.

  She bursts into the room without looking, Oliver in tow behind her.


  “We’ve got a problem. There’s—”

  Her mouth stops forming words as her eyes fall upon the bed. Ria’s breasts are almost completely exposed—though she’s now hurriedly covering them up—and Silver’s face is between her thighs.

  Ping!

  Silver parts her teeth, letting the elastic waistband of Ria’s undies snap back. “You’re damn right we’ve got a problem,” she snarls. “You’ve been cunt blocking me for two days, and you don’t know how to fucking knock!”

  Realizing that Oliver’s ogling Ria, and not being in the least bit subtle about it—the split-second glimpse of her naked breasts now forever imprinted on his mind—Carmen covers his eyes with her hand.

  “Well done,” she gripes. “You’ve warped his delicate virgin mind.”

  “Pfft.” Silver rolls her eyes. “Now he has some new material to jerk off over.”

  “Don’t be crude. It’s not funny.” Ria swipes Silver’s shoulder, turning her back on Carmen and Oliver to lace her dress. “What if he tells?”

  Silver can hear the distress in her voice, and tries to relieve her concerns by addressing Oliver sternly. “Are you an idiot, Oliver?”

  Carmen releases his eyes.

  “No, mum.” His intonation raises at the end, like he’s posing a question.

  “Good.” Silver slides off the bed and takes him by the shoulders, ensuring his full attention. “Then you know there’s nothing wrong with two women being together, right?”

  “I don’t think we have time for this.” Carmen squirms on the spot, either dying for a widdle, or full of nervous energy. “The militia are here.”

  “What?” Silver shares a look with Ria, then digs for more. “More worthless buffoons like Slade and his men?”

  Carmen shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Her chest tight with fear, Ria peers out through the net curtains, sneaking a peek at the people in the street below. It’s a small group of militia: three men and two women. The women are wearing caps identifying them as drivers, and they’ve got two vehicles with them: a sleek black car, and a West Mercia Police van. The van’s probably been stolen, the old law enforcement logos spray-painted over.

  While the two women and two of the men are unfamiliar to her, the third man—the leader of the bunch—is someone she recognizes.

  “Oh, no.” She brings a hand to her breast, panic setting in.

  “What is it?” Silver joins her at the window, slipping both hands around her waist.

  “It’s Luther.” Ria holds Silver against her. “I mean, not him in person—he doesn’t do his own dirty work—but this isn’t just another militia faction like at Manchester. These are his men; they work directly for him.”

  “Do you know who they are?”

  “Only one.” Ria points. “His name’s Cutler.”

  Like Linx, Cutler’s eyes are permanently flashed violet. It’s hard to discern his age, but he has the appearance of a man in his mid-thirties. Long brown hair is swept back into a neat, low ponytail, with no hint of gray. His trimmed goatee has a touch more red in it, the wiry hairs almost ginger. He’s deep-chested, his build hefty and muscular, and he clearly takes pride in his appearance.

  His dress shoes are shined perfectly, his trousers neatly pressed, and his shirt and waistcoat haven’t a single crease. The long black coat he’s wearing is pure cashmere, and the top hat resting on his head is made from felted beaver fur: the finest quality money can buy. His tastes are rich.

  “Are his eyes always like that?” Silver squints at his violets.

  Ria nods. “I thought he was the only one until I saw Linx. He’s practically indestructible with that enhanced virus in him.”

  Silver watches Cutler tap his foot impatiently, checking his pocket watch, waiting for something to happen. He says something to one of the Deltas—one of Aiden’s men—but Silver can’t make out the words.

  “What do they want?” Silver looks over her shoulder at Carmen.

  “How should I know?” She upturns both palms.

  “Go back down there and find out.”

  “Get stuffed.” She plants her hands on her hips, refusing to budge. “I’m not your slave.”

  “Fine.” Silver groans begrudgingly, peels her hands away from Ria’s waist, and strides across the room. “Then stay with Ria.”

  “I’m not your sodding babysitter either.”

  Silver ignores that.

  Spinning suddenly from the window, Ria takes a sharp draw of breath and begins coming apart at the seams. “Milaya! Where are you going?”

  “Wait here.” Silver retrieves her gun and hunting knife off the bedside table. “I’ll find out what’s going on out there.”

  “Nyet!” Ria dashes toward her, blurting a frantic string of high velocity Russian that Silver has absolutely no chance whatsoever of understanding.

  “Whoa, slow down.” Silver holds her still and cups her face. “Speak English, baby. I haven’t got the faintest clue what you’re saying.”

  “Izvinite.” Ria takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” She tries to calm herself, her heart thumping over a hundred beats per minute. “Please don’t leave. I need you with me.”

  Sensing that she needs the comfort more than she cares about the demonstration of some affection in front of Oliver, Silver kisses her.

  Afterward, “It’s okay.” She strokes Ria’s cheeks. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, I promise. I just want to find out what’s going on.”

  “Cutler knows me.” Ria sniffles. “If he should find out I’m here—”

  “Sshhh.” Silver puts a finger to her lips. “Vsee-yo boo-det hara-sho.” She tries her best to say that everything will be okay, then holds her hand over Ria’s chest, feeling her erratic heartbeat. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Ria presses her hand over Silver’s and moves it down to her bust, trying anything she can think of to keep her lover in the room. “I won’t be if you’re close to me.” She coaxes Silver to fondle her. “Stay.”

  With every intake of breath, her chest heaves against Silver’s hand, the warm mound of her breast pushing into Silver’s palm, her nipple tingling and stiffening beneath her dress, making it agonizingly difficult for Silver to pull away. But she does.

  “I don’t need you to tempt me to take care of you.” She moves her hand to Ria’s waist. “I would do anything for you.” She puts emphasis on ‘anything’.

  She’s never seen anyone so afraid. She kisses her once on the forehead, then leaves without looking back, knowing that if she takes one more look at Ria’s tortured expression, she’ll never make it out of the bedroom.

  Her first port of call is the town hall, where she finds Aiden poring over some plans for a new public well, a tablet device on the table in front of him. He seems unconcerned, relaxed, and starts answering her questions before any of them have a chance to tumble from her lips.

  “It’s routine,” he assures her. “Cutler’s here to collect his monthly prescription, that’s all. He’ll be gone soon enough.”

  Prescription? Silver understands the double-speak perfectly: he’s on a drugs run. That explains the wealth of rare London goodies she’d seen being unloaded from the back of the police van as she walked up Broad Street: payment.

  Of course, nothing ever does go quite according to plan. Upon turning to leave the room, she hears the soft dingle of an incoming message on Aiden’s tablet: an automated announcement from the West Mercia Police, sent simultaneously to every electronic device on the network.

  Missing person: Rianne Zykova.

  Reward increased.

  Silver’s anxiety spikes. Ria!

  She rushes back to the bed and breakfast and bombs into the bedroom, only to find it empty. The bed sheets are displaced, a chair knocked over, one of the curtains torn, the rail half pulled from the wall.

  “Shit!”

  Anger blooms within her, the pain and fury of having failed to protect Ria swelling in her gut. She strides downstairs and s
eizes the throat of the Delta who’s been on the front desk all morning. Forcing his diminutive five-foot-five frame up against the wall, she almost chokes him.

  “Where’s Ria?” she growls, ready for violence.

  “If the Arch Rogue wants her back, he can have her.” The Delta isn’t easily intimidated.

  “No, he can’t.” Silver squeezes harder, asking again: “Where is she?!”

  “There’s a reward.” The Delta refuses to comply.

  “Don’t make me ask you again.” Silver draws her gun and puts it to his temple, but she doesn’t have to ask again, and he doesn’t need to answer.

  Ria shrieks and yelps. One of the other Deltas is dragging her down Broad Street by her hair, pulling her toward Cutler. Her long braid is wrapped twice around his hand, her body bent at an awkward angle to try and prevent the pain of him tugging at her scalp.

  “Let me go!” She thumps his arm.

  “I’d do as she says if I were you.” Silver emerges onto the street, gun in hand. “‘Cause I swear, when I hit you, it’ll hurt a helluva lot more.”

  “This is interesting.” Cutler steps closer, cocking his head to match the angle of Ria’s contorted body. “Hello, my lovely. It’s been a while.”

  The Delta—whom Silver recognizes as one of the night security staff at the bed and breakfast—stands boldly between Cutler and his prize.

  “Reward, yeah?”

  “Oh, yes.” Cutler smiles. “Big reward for the Russian.” He makes his eyes wide on the word big. “But what are they?” He indicates Carmen and Oliver, both being held at knifepoint by two other Deltas.

  “You can have ‘em for nuffink.” The Delta announces proudly. “A Northside murderer and a Mercian runaway.”

  Wow. News travels fast in this town.

  “You pathetic little shit.” Silver glowers at the night watchman, her gun raised on Cutler. “When I’m done killing the guy in the silly hat, I’m gonna beat your head into the sidewalk till your tiny brain oozes out through your ears.”

  Cutler eyes her, then turns back to the Delta. “Who’s that woman? And why does she have a gun pointed at me?” He’s not at all fearful.