TalsonsMatch

by Marie Harte

  Romy leaned closer to the monitors and stared, absorbing her every detail and committing it to memory. Long, wavy hair hung in a ponytail down her back. Her skin seemed almost incandescent, glowing with a sweaty sheen under the harsh summer sun…where it wasn’t blue from her knees to her ankles. Hmm. Another piece of the puzzle. The woman was either a house painter or an artist.

  “Fuck me, she’s hot.” Daket spread his legs on his chair, sporting an erection impossible to miss, to which his brother rolled his eyes.

  “Hell, Daket. Have a little dignity. She’s walking across her yard, not naked and panting. I swear, you need to get laid.”

  “Yeah, well so do you. Or is that a nightstick in your pants?”

  Min chuckled and the two bantered back and forth. Unlike humans, Otra had very few hang-ups when it came to sexuality, though many Otra didn’t look favorably on human-Otra interaction when it came to mating. Fucking a human was fine, but nothing more permanent than that. Romy didn’t care. He had a human second-mother, a human sister-in-law and a half human sister-in-law. Love trumped genetics any day.

  “I think it’s time I found a woman or two myself,” Romy added and eased into their camaraderie. Before he knew it, he’d made plans for a night on the town with the Yals and readied himself to go deeper undercover.

  * * * * *

  Tara mumbled to herself between swear words, “It’s not as if he’s anything special. So what? Another Otra who just happened to be nicer and classier than the other knobs Trotter has working for him. But if he’s working for Trotter, the man can’t be a saint. Far from it.”

  She grunted and hosed down her legs covered in cerulean blue. The sun had begun to set, and she’d finally finished washing the paint off her body.

  “Last time I let Susie’s kids play in the house while I’m painting,” she muttered. But she knew she lied. The next time Susie had to work overtime to feed her kids, Tara would agree to watch the little hellions.

  Romec appeared out of nowhere and followed her inside with a soft meow, and she realized dinnertime had come and gone.

  “Oh wow. I’m starving, and I’m sure you are too.” The cat meowed again. “I have nothing left. Time for the grocery store.”

  Half an hour later, she arrived at a fairly decent grocery on the other side of the harbor. Port Chase had its share of beauty and the high life on the north side of the city. Uptown. Where Mannie lived in luxury, she reminded herself as she grabbed a cart and entered the store. Uptown, where I should be living. The minute she thought about leaving, her mind focused on the spiral of pain peeling through the south side of the harbor and fixed her with a hell of a headache.

  She still had much to mend. The Majesty addicts lying across the street and in the abandoned buildings so close. The medically hopeless begging the have-nots in the neighborhood for food and money for medicine. She grimaced, feeling overwhelmed.

  Mannie, for all his bluster and menace, provided anonymously every month for those in need. A large portion of his charities benefited the homeless in her section of town. And with her help, they were slowly, steadily, cleaning up the neighborhood. But it wasn’t enough, not when the Talsons continued to flood the area with Majesty.

  A cart banged into hers and she started.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I…well, hello again.” Her visitor from earlier in the day stood behind a grocery cart filled with meats, fruits and veggies. And a ton of junk food. “Fancy running into you here. I’m Luke Drowe, by the way.”

  For all that he worked for the Talsons, this man had so much charm, so much joy sparkling in his dark eyes, that she was hard-pressed to remain cold toward him.

  “Interesting menu you have there.”

  He shrugged and pushed his cart next to hers, as if they were old friends. “Some manly food for the guys. That’d be the meat and the processed stuff. The fruit and veggies are for me.”

  She felt a slow pull toward his smile and deliberately moved her cart an inch to her right.

  “What?” he asked, as if wounded. “You don’t like bananas?”

  She chuckled, unable to help herself. “You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Not me. I’m all for laughs and having fun.” His expression suddenly turned serious. “Now you, I wouldn’t mind being so full of you.”

  The shift in attitude threw her, as did the sudden flare of heat inside her. Her womb clenched and her heart raced. What the hell?

  She stared up into his eyes and watched the silver overtake the whites, obliterating the irises and pupils until the orbs glowed. “Your eyes,” she rasped, having seen the same look in Trotter’s gaze while Sheila pleasured him.

  “You are so damn hot,” he whispered and blinked several times until his eyes returned to normal.

  A sudden image of him binding her to a bed with velvet scarves before he stripped her naked and kissed her, everywhere, flashed into her mind’s eye. She blinked at him in surprise.

  He shuttered his gaze. “Reading my mind without an invitation, hmm? Did you like the velvet straps? Or would you prefer something in silk?” He grinned, a smile of pure, unadulterated lust that shook her to the core.

  She stammered, not sure how he knew what she’d seen. She normally had a dampening effect on those with psychic talents. “I—I— What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. Maybe I’ll show you sometime instead.”

  She couldn’t help looking down his frame when he stepped around his cart, closer to her. The sight of a good-sized bulge straining his trousers made her mouth water. He chuckled, and she fought her embarrassment as she focused on her milk in the cart.

  “Oh, Tara, we’re definitely going to be spending some quality time together, I just know it.”

  Scowling for having succumbed to his charms when she knew better, she stiffened. “Keep to the Talsons and stay away from me. I don’t need your kind of trouble.”

  Except she did want his kind of trouble. There was more to Luke Drowe than it seemed. Charming, handsome and funny. Yet he worked for the bad guys.

  She steered her cart away and tried to calm her breathing. When a man looked as good as that one did and projected that kind of heat, any woman would be hell-bent on finding a way closer to that mess. As much as she wished it were different, she knew if she hadn’t walked away just then, she might have offered him a drink at her place.

  A drink that would spiral down a dark path toward sex, fulfillment and more orgasms than she could handle. Tara had grown up sheltered thanks to Mannie. The few lovers she’d had had been nice but dull, not very adventurous or satisfying. What she knew of the seedier side of life she could attribute to what she’d seen of Trotter in the shipyard, and the vids she’d snuck from Mannie’s place that he didn’t know she had. The games, the bondage, the forbidden sex, oral and anal, had contributed to her randy dreams for years. But fantasies could only take a girl so far.

  She glanced back and saw Drowe staring at her as if he’d like to eat her. She recalled a few of those magazines and flushed, turning away, knowing her definition of eating and his were more than likely completely different. Yet she couldn’t suppress a shiver, wondering what it would feel like. With him. His smooth cheeks between her thighs, his soft lips tasting the heat of her…

  Oh, sweet, we’ll definitely get to that.

  She felt him chuckle in her mind but couldn’t get over the fact he was talking to her—telepathically.

  My name’s Luke, but you can call me Romec. Then he waved at her and left her staring after him, her mouth wide open.

  Halfway home, she realized she’d forgotten to buy herself any dinner and returned to the store, angry she’d allowed one of Talson’s thugs to distract her.

  “Romec,” she sneered. “Who the hell names a man after a cat?”

  Chapter Four

  A week later, Romy still couldn’t manage to get any closer to Tara Drake. Since running into her at the grocery, he’d managed to “accidentally” meet her at the local
fuel depot, a restaurant downtown where she dined with her hulking brother, and outside the shipyard, where she just happened to be checking on her property.

  In each instance, she’d given him the cold shoulder. He could sense her interest vying with her need for self-preservation. She wanted nothing to do with the Majesty trade, and he couldn’t blame her.

  During his brief stay, he’d had fun ridding Port Chase of the Majesty distributed by Trotter’s rival human gang, the Threaders, in an equally seedy district across town. What little he accomplished kept more Majesty off the street, and if he happened to help Trotter while doing so, so be it. Soon enough, he’d have that asshole up on charges and fired from Talson Shipping.

  The one good thing going for Romy was his new friends. He’d finagled his way into the Yals’ trust after several harrowing entanglements with law enforcement and the local pleasure girls. The nights around Daket and Min had shown him that the brothers weren’t bad men, they just worked for a bad man. The Yals needed direction. But not, apparently, around women.

  He broke out in a sweat just thinking about what the pair had done last night. The Yals had a thing for exhibitionism. In their opinion, the more the merrier. He’d seen enough to turn him permanently hard. Daket and Min had shared women and taken turns. Cock-sucking, ass-fucking, the Yals experienced that and everything in between. Their endurance and never-ending appetite made Romy’s nights sheer hell, because to his annoyance, he hadn’t been able to relieve his sexual hunger.

  Anytime he even thought of letting any of the Yals’ enthusiastic friends satisfy him, he’d imagine Tara Drake. The woman wouldn’t leave his mind, and he had an awful feeling he knew why.

  She consumed him, to such an extent he couldn’t hide his interest anymore from the Yals. They thought it hilarious he wanted to make a move on Ms. Unattainable. They’d even put down bets on how long Romy would survive once Trotter found out about his secret crush.

  Crush. He snorted. As if he were a youngster. He had a hard-on the size of Werfal 6 for the woman.

  Tonight, Romy stood in the dark shipyard and watched her house. His need to see her through the thin walls of that shack she called a home enabled a new and unwelcome ability. By the stars, he could see through the brick and mortar construction right to the woman herself.

  Romy groaned. Tara Drake in a skimpy tee-shirt, without a bra, wearing barely there panties only made matters worse. His dick ached. His psychei desperately wanted to reach out and touch hers. And the thought of Trotter getting his rocks off anytime Tara passed by one of her windows, showing all and sundry those fine breasts, made Romy want to set the man on fire and watch him burn.

  No two ways about it, Romy had entered The Testing.

  His psychei encouraged him to mate. Now. With her.

  Christ. Could his life get any more complicated?

  A low moan from nearby distracted him, and he noted Trotter having a hard time paying attention to his latest girl while he stared at Tara’s home.

  The girl worked him over, her mouth and hands pulling at Trotter’s cock with enthusiasm. Yet Trotter refused to look away from Tara’s direction, as if willing her to look at him. The bastard obviously sensed her Otra nature. From such a distance, and in the near-dark, a human shouldn’t have been able to see Trotter fucking the girl’s mouth.

  But Romy knew, as did Trotter, that should Tara look out her window, she’d catch an eyeful. Otra senses could see and hear what normal humans could not.

  Not wanting to witness any more of his supposed boss, Romy leaned back into the shadows to let the building block his view of the man. Except Trotter wouldn’t stand still. The asshole swore and moved, once again in Romy’s view. Romy might have thought it intentional if he hadn’t sensed Trotter’s desperation.

  He turned the prostitute around, bent her over a barrel, and yanked the skirt off her to expose a tight little ass. Then Trotter parted her cheeks and plunged home on a groan. Romy winced for her.

  No lube couldn’t be comfortable. But the girl moaned his name and sighed her pleasure as Trotter took her. The notion that Romy could be doing the same thing to Tara right now inflamed him. He’d been trying like hell to hold back and let her make the first move, but the time had come to take control of the situation.

  Using the moonlight to his advantage, Romy called on his psychei and bent the ambient light around him. He raced toward Tara’s house, knowing the others would only see a slight blur as he moved. And since he’d been tasked to man the view-cams watching her place tonight, he didn’t need to worry about security capturing his ass on vid.

  He skirted the side of the house facing the shipyard, out of sight of Trotter, and reached up to knock on an outside window. Tara, let me in, he pushed, forcing her to hear him.

  After a short moment, the window opened over his head.

  “I’ve got a gun,” came a strong reply.

  “It’s me, Luke,” he whispered and grimaced at the use of his false name. “You know, Romec?”

  She paused and then stuck her head out the window. She blinked at him. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  He could almost smell the soft rose soap she used. A floral perfume taunting him to taste and touch that smooth flesh just begging for his kiss. He growled, “Turn off your lights. Trotter’s over there getting his rocks off staring at you through your bedroom window.”

  She disappeared and the house went dark. Then her head popped out the window again. “How do you know what Trotter saw? Are you spying on me too?”

  She didn’t know the half of it. If he concentrated, he could see—through the wall—her shirt riding up, the swell of her breasts visible if she moved just so. “I’m just looking out for you. Come on, Tara, let me in.”

  “This sounds familiar. Is this the part where I say, ‘Not by the hair on my chinnie chin chin’?”

  “What?”

  “Forget it. It’s an old nursery rhyme.” Silence. “So are you going to stand out here all night whispering warnings? I’m trying to get ready for bed.”

  He groaned. Bed. “I won’t keep you long. Just let me in so we can talk. It’s important. You have no reason to trust me, but I’m risking a lot just by being here. Trotter wants no one around you but him. And he’s not a man you want to displease.”

  She said nothing. He could almost hear her mind buzzing.

  “Please. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.”

  More than she could know. Between what the Yal brothers had told him and what he’d seen and heard this past week, he had enough to nail Trotter to the wall. The Yals didn’t know it, but he’d stashed an incriminating data chip at their place, where no one would think to look. Just as soon as he took Tara to safety, he’d retrieve the chip and turn it in to the authorities.

  They stared at one another, and Romy felt his energy graze hers. The sensation of union was nearly orgasmic, and he strangled on a silent groan as her dark eyes held him fast.

  Then she sighed. “Come in, but be quiet about it. Can you pull yourself up and inside? My house is elevated.”

  He glanced up. The window sat in an odd place in her rickety house, but he easily scaled the seven feet and pulled himself through. After dropping to the floor, he righted himself and stared in bemusement at a picture of Tara ready for bed.

  The blood rushed from his head and pooled between his legs. Fuck me. Up close, he could see the details he’d missed before. She’d thrown on a pair of white high-cut shorts over her panties that matched her thin tank. Without even trying, he used his psychei to see the soft rosy areolas gracing breasts that would be more than a handful. So incredibly beautiful.

  He had a sudden flashback of the woman in the tub and instinctively merged the two women together. Fuck, could his luck get any worse? His control hung by a thread as it was.

  “What are you looking at?” she growled and crossed slim arms over her chest, pulling him from his lust-induced stupor.

  “N-Nothing.” He coughed, will
ing his mind to wake the hell up and his dick to calm down. Much as he would have liked nothing better than to crawl into bed with Tara, he needed to fix her situation with Trotter. Every instinct told him the man intended to move tonight. “Can we talk?”

  She narrowed her eyes, nodded and turned. “Follow me.” And showed him her delectable ass.

  He clenched his fists and fought for control as he followed her into her living room. He noticed a music amplifier and turned it on.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Masking our sound. Otra can hear pretty far, especially when it’s dark.” He paused. “You can still see me, can’t you?”

  In the darkness, he saw her blink in astonishment, then nod. “Yeah. I’ve always had pretty good night vision.”

  “Me too.” Was she hiding her nature, or did she honestly not know she was Otra?

  “So why are you here, Romec?”

  “Romy.”

  “What?”

  “My friends call me Romy.”

  She snorted. “I didn’t know we were friends.”

  We’re going to be. Oh, baby, are we ever. He cleared his throat. “I wanted you to know Trotter’s got something on your brother.”

  “What?”

  “Shh, keep it down.” He looked over her shoulder through the kitchen window, able to see Trotter still pounding into the woman. No doubt the bastard had come and was planning to again. Sometimes being Otra had its drawbacks. “Good, he’s still busy.”

  She made a sound of disgust. “Does that man ever take his business indoors? What I don’t understand is how the women don’t seem to mind. I get the prostitutes being paid, but he’s with a lot of women. And hell, it’s too hot outside to be doing…what he’s doing.” She glanced out the window and quickly looked away. “Good Lord,” she choked.

  “He’s giving you a show, trying to turn you on,” Romy said dryly, aware of a flush of pink in her aura. “Apparently it’s not working.” Good.

  “Oh man. All that action out there is for me?” She ended in a high note.

  “Yeah. Trotter’s got it bad for you. He’s not going to take no for an answer anymore. He’s coming here tonight to—” A sudden whiff of the most incredible perfume froze him in place. An alluring, sexual, feminine scent that called out to everything Otra in him.