by Sydney Croft
“Go to hell.” She shoved away from him. “I’m not in the habit of fucking strangers either, and how conveniently you forget that I was chained to a damned bed, while you were loose.” She was supposed to be keeping him calm, but fuck that. Since the moment she and Sela had been captured, she’d lost all control, and it was time to take some back.
THERE WAS SOMETHING MARLENA WASN’T TELLING HIM. HELL, there was something they were all keeping from him—Chance could see it in their eyes. The careful way they moved around him. The way they hustled Marlena in to him when he’d demanded her, even though he was a fucking prisoner.
He didn’t know much, only that his aches and pains went away and all he wanted to do was be with her.
They had to have drugged him. This was a trick.
She wasn’t acting like this was a trick, though, and what had she said about being chained to a bed?
His mind worked furiously, trying to scrape together memories that were way too fluid. It was like trying to ladle soup with a slotted spoon.
He remembered needing her like he needed air. He’d had to mate with her, make her his no matter what …
No matter what. Mate. So … animalistic.
His gut turned over as fresh memories slapped his brain. Even if these people had drugged him with some sort of crazy libido drug, Marlena hadn’t been part of it. He remembered the terror on her face when he … Oh, Jesus.
His hands shook as he scrubbed them over his face as if that would scrub away the reality of what had happened. “Shit,” he breathed. “God, Marlena, I’m sorry.” Sorry? That was lame. And if her glare was any indication, she thought so too.
“You’d better be sorry for accusing me of drugging you or some shit,” she snapped, and then softened her tone. “But don’t be sorry about the rest.”
He blinked at that. “I attacked you. I remember—”
“I didn’t fight you, did I?”
His fists clenched, the way they had around her wrists as he held her for his thrusts. A wave of both heat and nausea rolled over him. “I didn’t give you much choice.”
“I could have screamed.”
True. He hadn’t gagged her or anything. Excellent. Good to know some measure of civility had tempered the caveman instincts. “Why did you let me do that to you?”
Marlena rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, drawing his attention to her mouth. If she’d just move closer … “I don’t know.”
“Maybe they drugged you too.”
“We weren’t drugged,” she said, and as though she’d heard his stray thought about moving closer, she took a couple of steps, bringing with her the heady scent of aroused female.
“We had to have been.”
Her gaze sharpened, and her scent turned bitter. “Why? Because you couldn’t possibly want to have sex with me without the aid of chemicals?”
A low growl erupted in his chest, surprising him as much as what came out of his mouth. “You’re mine. Trust me, I want to fuck you ten ways from Sunday.” He cursed, punched his pillow so hard it popped and feathers exploded from the end. “Dammit! Goddammit! I don’t know where that came from. I don’t know what I’m feeling, I don’t know why I’m feeling it. And why the ever-loving fuck can I smell every change in your moods?”
Suddenly, her hands were on his shoulders, and she was pushing him back down flat on the cot. For some reason, he calmed instantly, as though she were pulling all his strings and he liked it. “Calm down, Chance,” she whispered. “Please. You’re going to attract the guards.” Her fingers tightened, digging into his skin, and he nearly groaned from the sheer pleasure of being touched. “I know you’re frustrated and confused.”
“You need to get away from me,” he said, even as he gripped her waist and pulled her down on top of him. “Get. Away.” The words were there, but he was holding her so tight she couldn’t leave if she wanted to. His rational mind screamed at him to get rid of her, but his body and instincts beat the fuck out of his thoughts.
“Get away, or what?” she challenged, and he pressed his hips into her, his rock-hard cock showing her exactly what. “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “You took all control from me earlier. I’m going to take it back on my terms. So let go. Now.”
For some crazy reason, he did. He obeyed like a fucking pussy-whipped loser. Oh, he still wanted her, wanted to claim her, mark her, fill her with his seed. But she was absolutely right—she had control here.
“Marlena, look, I don’t understand it, but I need you. I don’t want you to go. I just …”
“Shh.” She slid her palm over his chest and down his abs. And then lower still as he held his breath and watched helplessly.
He could stop her now, tell her he wasn’t sure this was the best idea.
He didn’t trust his voice, but his body had already betrayed him. Badly. And when she ripped open his pants and put her hand around his hard cock—man, oh fucking man, he hoped she wouldn’t stop.
She stroked him, up and down, and his hips began to rock to the rhythm she set.
“I don’t understand any of this either,” she said. “I was afraid of you when I first came in here. I admit it. I nearly ran out. But I’m not anymore.”
“You should be, but holy shit, keep doing that.”
A little smile tilted up the corner of her mouth, as she moved her other hand between his legs to caress his balls. When she rubbed a finger along his perineum, he swore he saw stars.
“Marlena … don’t stop, okay?” he breathed, and Christ, no one had better interrupt them or he’d kill—“Fuck. Stop. I can’t—”
She shut him up with a finger against his lips. “You can. We’ll figure out what’s going on afterward. But right now, we’re doing this.”
Well. Okay. Far be it from him to argue with his mate.
Mate?
His woman. Yeah. His woman.
Fuck. Whatever. She was his, and like she said, they’d figure out the rest later.
MARLENA BENT AND PRESSED HER LIPS TO CHANCE’S, DETERMINED to prove that she was still in control … of her heart, at least, if not her body.
The kiss was electric, made her gasp into his mouth. Within seconds, she was crawling onto him. His hands slid along her back, holding her, pulling her closer to him, kissing her like he needed that to live. The kisses intensified, his tongue dueling with hers, and her body responded to his touch, despite hearing the chains clanking … and the fact that he was dangerous as hell in so many ways.
His hands drifted down to cup her ass through her BDUs, and he rocked her against him as his tongue teased hers. She felt the strength in his body surge as he locked a leg over hers as if to keep her from leaving.
There was no chance of that, not when his hand moved to caress her breast between their bodies, his fingers brushing her nipple. Her own hands traveled as well, caressing his shoulders, his biceps. She did a slow grind of her hips against his as he palmed the back of her neck, pulled her mouth to his and kissed her until she could barely breathe. When he finally let her up for air, his voice was thick as he murmured in her ear, “I want you so badly … but I don’t want to hurt you.”
She didn’t bother telling him that he’d hurt her anyway. It was either a suicide mission or a leap of faith.
He shifted so they were on their sides. He pushed the low-slung BDUs off her hips impatiently and stroked a finger along her slick folds, making her cry out softly. The pad of his thumb found her clit as he slid a finger inside her, slowly driving her mad as he tongued her nipple through her already wet T-shirt, making the soft cotton hot against her skin.
“Chance … please … yes.”
He pulled her T-shirt up with his teeth and she impatiently tugged it over her head.
The restraints weren’t holding him back at all. His hands were working their magic as he spread her legs, told her, “Wanna make you come so hard, baby … make you feel so good you can’t stand it.”
With her job as a Seducer, it was never about her
pleasure. Couldn’t be. But this … this was completely different.
She wanted to know if lightning could really strike twice.
She wanted to climax in his arms, from his fingers, his tongue … his cock. And she told him so, whispered it in his ear and watched him still at her words and then give her a smile rife with desire.
“I’ll do everything you want, honey. As many times as you can stand it,” he promised as he took her pants down and let her kick them off, leaving her naked next to him. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
She blushed like it was the first time she’d been told that and looked up at him. The man was beautiful in his own right.
“Come on up here,” he urged, tugging at her hips.
On the small cot, she straddled his face with her thighs on either side and let him pull her sex to his mouth. She swallowed a cry yet couldn’t help but let the moans spill out as he licked and sucked her, holding her in place as she rubbed against his face wantonly. His tongue worked the swollen nub of nerves relentlessly until she couldn’t hold back any longer.
She fell forward, clinging to the end of the cot because she had no balance left as the first orgasm rolled through her. He didn’t stop, though, held her to him as he pleasured her through two more climaxes in quick succession.
When she climbed off him, her legs were trembling. Chance hooked his arm around her thigh and pulled her close. “I’m not done with you yet.”
If she had any kind of self-control, she would quit while she was ahead and leave with beautiful memories of a man who’d actually still wanted her when she left him.
Since she found herself on top of him again, she guessed the self-control thing had gone out the window. Her sex cradled his arousal and Chance traced a nipple with his finger.
“Come on, Marlena, let me in,” he growled, and she lowered herself onto him, slowly let his girth fill her, inch by inch.
She’d been taught to compliment men on their size, but she wouldn’t have to pretend with Chance—he was big and thick, his cock heavy with need.
He was trapped by the chains and still he was somehow in charge, rocking his hips up hard, thrusting into her until she was biting back a scream. Her belly tightened and she forced herself to look him in the eyes, to see his lust-filled gaze for her as he started to orgasm—his pace sped up and her own climax tore through her, a rapid-fire, exquisite release she rode as long as she could.
SELA HAD GRUMBLED ABOUT THE FLOOR, BUT SHE’D FALLEN asleep nearly immediately. Once Logan saw she was dead to the world, he’d picked her up and placed her on his cot.
She’d immediately curled up, hugging his pillow tightly.
He liked that she seemed comfortable out here in the middle of nowhere. And he liked her in his bed.
Idiot.
He turned to his laptop to check his emails, scanned the unnecessary ones his assistant would deal with and opened the one from his sister instead.
Caroline was twenty years old, a product of Dad’s second marriage. But Logan never thought of her as a half sister, because the two of them were so much alike. Even though fifteen years separated them, he’d always been extremely protective of her.
He’d always spoiled the shit out of her as well.
She was in college in the States—Virginia. She was beautiful and brilliant and kept telling him she wanted in on the family business.
He’d do anything in his power to keep her out of it.
Her email was full of talk of parties and classes and fun and he was smiling as he read. He made a mental note to wire her more money, just in case, and then he closed his laptop.
Leaning back in his chair, he thought about what Sela had accused him of earlier. Of selling weapons to terrorists.
Thought of how he hadn’t taken an interest in what GWC did until they implanted their stamp inside his body and he became their personal Frankenstein’s monster.
The more he thought about it, the more he knew killing the chupacabra was the right thing to do. Fuck the contracts and the money, fuck it all. GWC had to start being responsible for its actions. They couldn’t continue selling weaponry to anyone with a big enough checkbook, not in today’s world.
But what to do about Chance?
GWC could try to develop a drug to reverse the infection, but that could take years. For a minute, Logan wondered if the bioware could be of any help, if they replaced part of Chance’s brain with the metal and steel and wires, if that would stop him from changing. Or if the infection was too widespread. If eventually Chance would no longer be Chance at all.
Logan realized he wasn’t ready to go there yet.
Restless, he rose and left Sela sleeping to grab some coffee. Dax was waiting outside, watching Chance’s tent. Close enough to get there fast if he heard screams, but far enough away that he could survey the entire camp for enemies. Or chupas.
“I have Shep on patrol. Marlena’s okay,” Dax said in a low voice when Logan got closer.
Translation: Chance had retained human form and Marlena was still alive.
Logan nodded. “Sela’s sleeping. I’ll stay here for a few—you take a break.”
Dax nodded, ambled off toward the mess tent. Logan moved next to Chance’s tent, closer than Dax had been. He needed to check for himself that everything was okay in there, because his conscience was killing him. If he hadn’t ordered Marlena locked up with Chance in the first place …
It’s not like you knew what Chance would turn into.
It was then he realized that Chance would no doubt have questions about what happened. Logan and Sela had worked so fast to get Marlena to him that neither of them prepped her for what to tell Chance about his … transformation.
Shit. He put his ear close to the flapped window, hoping to get some insight into what they were talking about.
And then he realized that Chance and Marlena weren’t talking.
With the faint light from a lantern shining inside, he could make out two shadows moving on the other side of the canvas.
He stood frozen as a woman’s shape moved up and down, pictured Chance beneath her, and his own cock hardened as he pictured Sela riding him like that.
“Fuck, Marlena … that’s it … yeah, baby.” Chance’s hoarse voice leaked out of the tent, and Logan took a drink of coffee and scalded his tongue.
He spit it out and wiped a hand across his mouth, knowing he should leave. But he was transfixed by the sounds, by the way Marlena wasn’t worrying about what Chance had become, that he could change into a monster at any moment.
No, she was treating him like a red-blooded man.
A rustle drew his attention to the other side of the tent and suddenly he realized he wasn’t alone anymore. Hadn’t been for a few minutes, based on the look in Sela’s eyes.
She was as mesmerized as he was. Even in the moonlight, he could see the flush on her face, the way her lips parted slightly, and his gaze held hers even as Marlena’s soft cries filled the air around them.
His cock strained his BDUs and he wished he could cross the distance between them, take her on the soft jungle ground … forget about everything else.
What would Sela do if she knew what was really inside Logan? Could she accept it as easily as she’d accepted the existence of the chupacabra? Would he become merely another object to study—or something more?
“Oh, God, Chance, yes!” Marlena’s voice rose and then was followed by a long, low moan. Logan clenched his fist so hard the paper coffee cup crumpled and hot liquid spread over his hand and arm.
That brought him back to reality fast.
Sela rushed over to him, took his hand, wiped away the liquid with the bottom of her shirt. “Are you burned?”
He snatched his hand away, because no, he wasn’t burned. That hand would need to be chopped off to not work, and even then he would barely feel pain beyond skin level. “It’s fine.”
He knew his cheeks were as red as hers—lust and embarrassment. He mentally berated himself for lis
tening to something so private. For getting caught. For having feelings.
“I was … just checking.” Sela motioned toward Chance’s tent.
“If you leave the tent again, I’ll handcuff you to the bed,” he growled, although the image of Sela handcuffed anywhere for his pleasure made him grow even harder.
As if she knew, she looked pointedly between his legs. Smiled. Then turned and walked back to his tent, shooting her middle finger up in the air as she went.
He’d definitely wait outside with Dax until morning light. There was no way he’d trust himself alone with Sela right now.
CHAPTER
Eight
Sela woke to the sound of monkeys screeching and jungle birds squawking. The other noises, those of a camp gearing up for the day, pierced her sleepy fog. The smell of coffee jerked her right out of it.
Yawning, she sat up. And then felt her cheeks heat at the memory of last night. She’d awakened when Logan exited the tent. Curious, and wanting to check on Marlena anyway, she’d snuck out behind him, slipping into the shadows to follow.
She’d stopped breathing when she saw him behind the medical tent, his body taut, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Butterflies flitted in her belly at the memory, at the sounds of sex from within that had held him so rapt.
Then he’d turned, his eyes locking with hers. God, that had been embarrassing. Because truth be told, she’d been listening too. Listening, and picturing. Except the pictures that formed in her head had been of her and Logan, and what was up with that? She hated him. Who wanted to have sex with someone they hated?
My mother’s daughter, that’s who.
Swearing softly, she swung her legs over the edge of the cot. She’d come back to the tent and collapsed, and at some point someone had removed her boots, which sat in a neat row beside the bed. Still groggy, she shook them in case some poisonous creepy-crawly had taken up residence, shoved her feet into them, and laced them up with fingers that were swollen from the heat and humidity.