Forget the damn buffet. Rogan was my reward, my tarnished prince, and all I wanted was to make him happy.
After another minute he grabbed my upper arms and yanked me up to my feet, covering my mouth with his, touching, tasting, licking, my hand still curled around him, working him with smooth strokes until he pulled me away from him.
For a moment I thought that he was trying to end this, but instead he yanked at the tie at my waist. My robe slipped off and I stood naked in front of him. For a moment I felt terribly exposed. I'd been with only two other men in my life, but it was in shadows and silence, and out of necessity or mild fondness. Not this … this need I felt for the man who stood in front of me, looking at me with such dark, aching hunger. I'd known him for only two days, but I wanted him more than anything else in the world.
"Kira," he whispered against my lips. "You're so beautiful. I want you so much."
Then he kissed me again, slow and long and perfect. Our tongues slid against each other, deeper and deeper. He backed me up until the backs of my legs hit the bed and eased me back onto the soft surface. He moved his mouth down to my breast and captured a hard nipple, biting down on it gently, and then moving his tongue around it in slow circles.
I moaned at the sensation, starting to feel out of control, and gasped as his right hand found its way between my thighs and the evidence of my raging desire for him. I felt him smile, his rough whiskers teasing my breast, as he looked up into my heavy-lidded gaze.
"You like this?" he asked, as the fingers teased and then slid slowly inside of me.
I arched off the bed with a soft scream. "Oh!"
"Do you want me, Kira?" he breathed into my ear.
I just nodded, barely able to speak. Barely able to think. "Yes … now. Please!"
His smile grew. "No, not quite yet."
I raked my hands through his dark hair as he traced his mouth lower on my body, my breasts, my stomach. He nudged my legs farther apart so I was fully exposed to him. And then I felt his tongue against me while his fingers still moved deep within.
That did it.
My world exploded-fell apart completely as I came over and over, screaming his name, and I reached behind me to grab on to something, anything. When I didn't think I could take it a moment longer, when the pleasure was too intense, I felt his mouth on mine again, kissing me deeper and harder than before.
He entered me then, slowly stretching me to accommodate his width. I spread my legs farther and grasped at his firm ass as he began to pump in and out of me.
Oh, God, it was too much. He felt so good. Nothing had ever felt this good in my life.
"Kira, oh, Kira…" My name was hardly recognizable as it left his lips, slurred with passion and hard-edged lust.
The dam of whatever self-restraint he had broke, and he began to lose control. Each thrust deepened and was more forceful-Rogan was a man who had been isolated in prison and had not known physical contact in years, and I felt the dark need begin to overwhelm him.
It made me realize how lonely I'd been, too. When I was with Rogan, I wasn't lonely anymore. We were in this together, just the two of us, and we would find our way out. Somehow.
I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist and I stared up into his eyes, now glazed with desire. He felt so good, so incredibly good as I ran my hands up and down his hard, muscled back and arched again, each thrust of his body bringing with it a wave of pleasure. I never wanted this to end-I wanted him inside me forever.
But then with a hoarse cry and a last deep thrust of his hips he collapsed on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close until his breathing came back to normal and his mouth found mine again and he kissed me over and over.
We gazed at each other for a long time as we lay side by side in the warm, comfortable four-poster bed. I traced the scar on his cheek with the tip of my finger, and then followed that with a line of kisses along it that led back to his lips.
"I'm very glad you're my partner," he murmured in my ear. "I think I'd hate to have a reward level like this with some guy named Biff."
I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling too widely at that. "You do realize I only had sex with you because now I know you're really rich."
He laughed, a rich sound deep in his throat. "I figured as much."
"We're getting out of this, Rogan. You and me. We're going to win this."
He kissed me, pulled me closer, and I wanted him again so very badly.
"And with Kira and Rogan enjoying the afterglow of their mid-Countdown tryst, we hope that you enjoyed the bonus footage, subscribers."
I felt cold. "What was that?"
Rogan pulled the sheets up to cover my nakedness, his gaze wildly scanning the room. "I didn't see any cameras. I swear I didn't."
I clutched the sheets against me and my heart began to thud even harder. "Neither did I."
The door opened and five men in white coats marched in. Jonathan came in last.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said. "But the reward level is officially over."
What had just happened with Rogan had been broadcast to the subscribers? Oh, my God. The thought made me sick.
"You said that I'd have privacy," I managed as my face grew warm with embarrassment and anger. "It was part of the reward."
His expression was grim. "You must know by now that I'm a liar, Kira. There is no privacy in this game. Get dressed."
He nodded at one of the men, who then threw a pile of clothes at us. But they weren't the clothes I had before: cargo pants, tank top, and my stolen red sneakers. These clothes were new and black, with black boots that hit the floor by the bed.
"You have three minutes," Jonathan said. Then he turned around and left the room.
"Fuck," Rogan said under his breath. "Kira, I'm sorry. I didn't see any cameras. I honestly thought we were alone. Stupid of me."
"How do we get out of this? You created this show. How does a competitor get off it?"
His mouth straightened into a thin line and he slid his hand into my hair. "Used to be just by losing, but now there are only two ways off the show: winning or dying."
He swung out of the bed and grabbed at the new clothing. He pulled on a pair of black pants and slid a black shirt over his head. The clothes fit tightly against his body, almost like a costume. He sat on the edge of the bed and laced up the boots.
"You look like a superhero," I said.
"If you say so." He met my eyes, then leaned over to snatch the rest of the clothes off the floor. He threw them to me.
I turned the pieces over in my hand. "You've got to be kidding me."
"You'll look like a superhero, too."
As if things couldn't get worse. "Yeah, a slutty superhero."
He raised an eyebrow. "What the subscribers want, the subscribers get."
"Christ."
My costume consisted of a pair of thong panties. A skimpy bra. A short pleated skirt that barely covered my ass. A tight long-sleeved shirt, low-cut in the front, thigh-high stockings, and knee-high combat boots.
All black.
Since my other choice of outfit at the moment seemed to be bedsheets, I slowly put on the clothes.
Rogan eyed me when I was done. "It's wrong that I think that outfit's hot, right?"
I glared at him. "This is no time for jokes."
He was fighting to keep a grin off his face. "You'd be beautiful no matter what those bastards made you wear."
Then he bent over and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on to him tightly.
"We're in this together," he whispered against my lips. "Don't ever forget that."
I kissed him again. "Easy for you to say. You're not wearing the thong."
The door opened again and Jonathan appeared. "Rogan, we're going to have you wait for a bit. Kira, I'm going to need you to come with me."
"Why?" I asked warily.
"Because somebody wants to meet you."
I chewed my bottom lip. "Not really in th
e mood to meet anybody right now."
"That's too bad. Gareth, however, doesn't grant an audience to just anyone. Consider it a great privilege afforded to no one else."
Rogan tensed and he grabbed my hand. "I'm coming with her."
"No," Jonathan said, and he had his remote control out. "You're not."
He pressed a button and Rogan cried out in pain before he fell to the floor in a heap.
I collapsed beside him and touched his face to assure myself he was only unconscious.
I glared up at Jonathan. "I can't believe I ever trusted you."
His face was expressionless. "If I told you I was truly sorry for all of this, would you believe me?"
"No."
"Then it is pointless for me to say anything at all. Come with me. Don't put up a fight."
I decided to put up a fight just for the hell of it. But after a few moments the men in white coats easily managed to restrain me, and dragged me kicking and screaming from the room.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Gareth Ellis sat in a large white room that had a small table in the middle. It reminded me of a sterilized prisoner interrogation room, like the ones I'd seen in my parents' DVD collection of old movies. The men in white coats shoved me into the room and slammed the door behind me.
Gareth, unlike the room, was all in black. I restrained myself from rolling my eyes at the appropriateness of that color. After all, he was the bad guy in this piece, right? He must have personally chosen our new Countdown uniforms. I tried to stop myself from pulling the skirt down to cover the bared tops of my thighs.
If I weren't so damn angry I'd be embarrassed.
Gareth Ellis was a handsome man-but how could he be anything else with Rogan as his brother? They looked very similar. I couldn't tell which of them was older. There must have been only a year or two between their ages. Gareth's hair was a shade lighter, a lot shorter, and he was clean shaven. If Rogan was currently sporting the convict-chic look, his brother was all about business. Very crisp. Very professional. Very suave and perfect.
His eyes were also the same color as Rogan's-a jarring ocean blue-green.
Yeah, there was no doubt that they were truly brothers.
"Kira," he said. "Come sit with me."
"I'll stand, thanks."
"I wasn't asking you; I was telling you." His expression hardened for an instant, but then a small smile appeared on his lips. "If you please."
Okay, so this wasn't going to be fun.
Without taking my eyes off him I slowly approached the table and slid into the seat across from him. He studied me as if I were a project in a science lab, his gaze resting on everything from my hair to my cheeks to my nose, lips, neck, and the rest of me visible above the white tabletop.
"Do you like your new outfit?" he asked.
"No."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I think you wear it well."
I just glared at him.
"You're our first female competitor," he said after a moment.
"I know."
"How are you enjoying the game so far?"
"Enjoying the game?" I repeated. "Enjoying it? You must be fucking crazy if you think I'm enjoying your sick little game."
He cocked his head to the side. "You were enjoying it half an hour ago. Quite vocally, in fact."
I clenched my fists at my sides. "Go to hell."
He smiled thinly. "A girl with a bit of spirit. It's refreshing, actually. Most of the women I meet nowadays are so wrapped up with the desire to go to Offworld that they'll say anything if they think it could help them achieve that goal."
"I guess I'm not most women."
He didn't reply, but continued to study me in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable.
"So what now?" I asked. "Are you going to stare at me all day?"
"Just trying to see what my brother sees in you, while he was at one time a ladies' man, he never settled for only one. In fact, he preferred dozens. He used women for their bodies and they used him for his money. It made things very simple."
I just looked at him.
"Have you fallen in love with Rogan?" he asked. "Or was it just sex?"
"I don't know the whole story about what you did to screw Rogan over, but what I have heard doesn't make me want to have a long, detailed discussion with you about my love life. So, sorry."
He raised an eyebrow. "I know that he told you what happened."
"Are you going to try to deny it?"
He shook his head. "No. Rogan got in the way of The Countdown becoming everything it could be. I had to stop him from ruining my plans. It's that simple."
Simple. Sure. This guy was obviously off his rocker.
"Are we done here?" I asked blandly.
"No, we're not." He stood and came around to lean against my side of the table. "I don't believe in psychic phenomena, Kira. I believe in science."
"I don't really give a shit what you believe."
He hit me hard across my left cheek. I hadn't even seen it coming. I pressed my hand against my face and looked up at him, the shock quickly changing to anger.
"I believe that you are a liar and a thief, Kira. Four weeks ago you picked my pocket on the street. You took my wallet, removed the money from it, and threw the rest away. I followed you and saw the squalor that you lived in. But I liked the way you moved, the sheer desperation in your actions. I knew you had what it would take to be on The Countdown. And then I asked my employees to research you. We got a sample of your DNA, and I know more about you than you probably know about yourself. I analyze, Kira. I analyze and I study and I learn. And I use all of that to help The Countdown grow stronger and stronger and better, and better until one day it will spread itself across all of this city, this world, and Offworld itself." He leaned forward and banged his fist against the table. "Are you listening to me?"
I blinked heavily. "Sorry, I think I just fell asleep a little bit, that story was so damn long. Were you saying something about your wallet?"
His mouth twitched, and it reminded me disconcertingly of Rogan when he smiled. Only with Gareth it wasn't pleasant, and there was something much darker behind it.
"You truly believe you are a psi? If you had any significant abilities at all you would be in a study program Offworld. Scientists would be prodding you daily, trying to figure out what makes you tick."
"Oh, well." I tried to sound as bored as I could when my heart was beating so fast I was afraid he'd be able to hear it. He didn't believe that I had my flex. I was surprised Jonathan hadn't confirmed that to him yet.
"So all you have is your ability to compete on The Countdown. You should be thanking me."
I blinked. "Thanking you? You're kidding, right?"
"You dream of going Offworld. With your means and background, winning The Countdown is the only way you'll ever achieve that goal, and my brother's only chance to stay out of prison."
I gripped the side of the table so hard my fingers felt numb. "Why did you frame Rogan for something he didn't even do? Something so horrible. There had to be another way, you heartless bastard."
"We're not talking about Rogan, are we? We're talking about you."
I bit my lip. "Whatever."
"But now that you brought him up, I have a little proposition for you. Something that, now that the two of you are lovers, will make for an interesting side challenge."
I glared up at him.
He drew closer to me and I could smell his expensive aftershave. "There is very little chance of your surviving to the end of The Countdown. In four years we have had nearly eighty pairs compete. Only one of those pairs finished to the very end to receive their ultimate reward. You will die, Kira. And I promise you it won't be pleasant."
"Fuck you."
He grinned and leaned back against the table. 'The subscribers seem to like you a great deal. It may have something to do with that little attitude of yours, maybe that little body that has been bared and exposed now for all to see and enjoy." His gaze
slid down my new low-cut black top. "Maybe it's the growing relationship between you and Rogan, I don't know for certain. But they like you. They want you to win."
'Then I'll win."
He shook his head. "No, you won't. You will die. In Level Five or Level Six. It won't matter. The odds are against you." He paused. "But I'm going to give you another option."
He waited until I made eye contact with him again. "Oh, yeah, and what's that?"
He licked his lips and moved closer still until I could feel and smell his breath against my face past the musky scent of his aftershave. "You will kill Rogan on camera. He's strong so he might get the upper hand unless you're sneaky. But I know you can be sneaky when you have to be. The subscribers don't like him. They believe, along with the crimes he was in prison for, that he also murdered your family, and they want you to seek revenge for this."
I frowned hard and shook my head. "But Rogan and I talked. He's innocent of all of those crimes. If the subscribers were watching they would have heard that."
He looked at me smugly. 'The audio portion of some of your little talks may have been temporarily unavailable. Technical difficulties, I'm sure. The subscribers are now wondering why you would let the man who killed your family fuck you on camera like a whore." He smiled. "But to each their own, I suppose."
I could barely control the fury that curled through me like fire. It burned the way my face still did where he'd struck me.
"I'm not killing him," I said evenly, trying like hell to keep my patience.
"If you kill him you will win the game and you will start your new life Offworld."
I steadied myself, trying to breathe normally, in and out, in and out.
This man couldn't be so horrible, could he? He was Rogan's brother. That had to count for something. But I'd never met anyone I hated more on contact, and I hated a whole hell of a lot of people.
He was sitting so close. Could I get a read on him? Could I push past my anger and frustration and concentrate enough to do it quickly?
If I had to, I would. And I did have to.
Breathe. Relax. Focus yourself.
He studied me with a small frown. "Are you certain that you refuse my offer?"
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