Zara moaned as he lapped up and down each side of her vaginal lips, then swirled the tip of his tongue over and around her clit.
Her arousal intensified, until she writhed with it, suspended in the web of pleasure he wove with hands and mouth. “God, Rand, you feel so good!” she gasped. “Fuck me, please, fuck me…”
The burning fuse of her pleasure suddenly detonated in a deep, rolling orgasm. She screamed, head thrown back, hips grinding.
“And that sounds like my cue.” He pulled away, snatched her off the bunk as if she were weightless, and flipped her over. Spreading her vaginal lips with one hand, he aimed his cock with the other and thrust into her from behind.
She shrieked into the mattress, high, shrill and abandoned.
“Felt that, didn’t you?” he asked, a note of dark laughter in his voice.
“Yes, you bastard!”
“That’s no way to talk to your dom.” He drew the length of his cock out of her body, then thrust deep. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to punish you for that.”
Then he started driving, fucking her hard, his shaft so thick, so long, the muscle of his thighs pressing against hers, his long fingers gripping her hips as he ground in and out.
Those ferocious sensations built the pulses of her climax, driving them higher, faster. She convulsed helplessly, yowling under his pounding hips. “Rand! Oh, God, more!”
* * *
Rand watched Zara writhe, her slim back twisting, silken ass hunching against his groin, pussy gripping him, slick and snug. The pleasure was so intense he had to fight not to come. “God,” he groaned, “You feel so damned…”
He held on somehow, listening to her gasping whimpers of delight, his fangs aching, until finally he could stand no more. Shifting his hold from hips to shoulders, he pulled her upright, then wrapped a hand into her hair. Dragged her head to one side.
And bit.
The taste of her blood filled his mouth, pumping sweet and hot. His cock jerked as his lust skidded out of control. He drank as her pussy rippled around his length and his balls emptied in burning pulses. She screamed again, stiffening in his grip. “Raaaaand!”
He growled possessively back at her.
The pleasure faded slowly, leaving her limp and sated in his arms. Rand withdrew his fangs carefully and started licking the small wounds; his vampire saliva would make them heal much faster.
She only moaned. “God, that feels good.”
“Yes,” he agreed in her ear. “It certainly did.” He paused to caress her softening nipples as he pulled his cock from her sex. “Thank you for the gift of your submission.”
“Believe me,” Zara breathed, “the pleasure was mine.”
Rand smiled and eased back, ordering his computer implant to open the neurocuffs. The restraints released, and he stripped them off her wrists before bending to scoop her up. Zara draped her arms around his neck as he carried her around the bunk to put her down on the mattress.
“That was delicious,” she sighed.
Rand licked a drop of blood from his lips. “I thought so.”
He moved through a flap into the hygiene closet that held the shelter’s toilet. Picking up the sonic cleaner from the small vanity, he stuck the little device into his mouth. It hummed, killing any bacteria before spraying a mist that left his mouth tasting like mint.
He picked up a cloth and flicked it, activating the release of moisture from its fibers. Rand cleaned himself off with the wet cloth, then refolded it and dropped it back on the stack to disinfect itself. He grabbed another cleaning cloth and carried it out to Zara.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered. She obeyed, looking half asleep and he reached between her thighs to her lovely pussy.
He put the cloth away, then returned to slide into the bed, spooning the warm curve of her body with his and wrapped his arms around her. “Sleep, Zara,” he murmured.
She sighed, her breathing deepening, her slim body going lax.
He inhaled the scent of her hair, enjoying the warmth of her soft skin, savoring the memory of her body rolling against his as he drank from her. As she came in his arms.
He’d claimed her. She was his now. His submissive. His woman.
His captive.
Rand frowned a little, uncomfortable with the thought. It was one thing to play at holding a woman prisoner, to pretend to force her submission as part of a sexual game. It was another thing entirely to take a prisoner to bed. Yes, he felt reasonably sure she’d meant it when she gave her consent, especially given the scent of her arousal.
But could a prisoner truly give consent?
Unfortunately, there was no way to free her. If he even tried, Lordsvengeance would do everything in his power to kill both of them. And the bastard would make sure they died in the worst way he could manage, probably after torturing Zara for any intelligence she might possess.
Rand’s jaw clenched as he stroked her slender shoulder. He’d sworn to protect her, and he’d do it.
Lordsvengeance would have to go through him to get to his submissive. And if the fucker tried, he’d find out exactly what a vampire was capable of.
It wouldn’t be a lesson the colonel would enjoy.
* * *
Zara woke some hours later to the smell of meat and spices. She sat up on her elbows on the bunk to see Rand, fully dressed in light G.A.E. armor, arranging a pair of steaming trays, utensils, and drinks on the small table. “Something smells good.”
“I made a run to the mess tent,” he explained, as she took another appreciative sniff. “I figured being stared at by a tent full of horny, resentful assholes wouldn’t be particularly good for your digestion.”
“You figured right.” She rolled out of the bed, picked up her uni, and got dressed before taking a seat at the table. She removed the tray’s lid, releasing a wave of steam fragrant with the scent of roasted meat and spices. “Mmm.” Zara picked up a fork and dug in, quickly discovering that it was every bit as delicious as it smelled.
For a moment there was silence as they started making short work of the food. Rand ate every bit as heartily as she did. Godssonists superstition notwithstanding, vamps ate food and had no more problem with sunlight than ordinary humans.
Once her stomach was comfortably full, Zara headed for the curtained alcove and used one of the cleansing sheets to bathe the dried sweat of combat and passion from her skin.
Emerging, she bent over the duffle she’d packed with her clothes and gear. She could feel Rand watching her lazily from where he sprawled on the bunk, his armored ankles crossed.
As she dressed in a clean uniform -- one that actually fit -- Zara asked, “What are your plans for the day? I mean what do you want me to do?” Looking over at him, lounging there looking big and handsome in his black armor suddenly brought home to her what an uncomfortable position she was in.
He might be her lover, but he was also an enemy officer.
What the hell am I doing?
As a lieutenant in the Falaran army, it was her duty to escape -- even to kill him.
And yet even if she did such a thing, what the hell would she do next? She was in the middle of a G.A.E. camp. Even if she succeeded in killing Rand, she was unlikely to make it to freedom.
But Rand, who’d protected her from his own murderous men, would still be dead -- a victim of his own generosity.
Assuming she succeeded. A V.S.S. might be strong, but Rand still had at least double her strength. Probably more. She didn’t have a prayer against him.
None of which changed the fact that he was the enemy, and Zara still had a duty to escape.
* * *
His table chimed. Zara looked around in time to see a familiar face form above the tabletop. “Good morning, darling.”
Zara had heard the voice in hundreds of newstreams: Adela Rand. She gaped. Darling? Adela Rand is calling… Oh. Rand.
“Hi, mom,” Rand said cheerfully. “Made any gossip streams lately?”
One of the g
alaxy’s richest women gave him an urchin grin. “Oh, you how it is. I can’t scratch my ass without winding up on the ‘stream.” She looked him over with what Zara thought was a trace of anxiety. “I see you’re still in one piece.”
“So far.” He rolled off the bunk, walked to the table and dropped into a chair so he could study his mother’s image.
Zara fidgeted, more than a little uncomfortable. “Do you want me to step outside, give you two a little privacy?”
“God, no. Somebody’d probably shoot you -- while ‘trying to escape.’” He gestured quotes in the air, then snorted sardonically. “Might even be true.”
Adela studied her so closely, Zara wondered if she had spinach clinging to her teeth. “Who’s this? And why is she wearing a Falaran Coalition uniform?”
“Mother, meet Lieutenant Zara Tahir. She’s my… guest. Zara, this is my mother, Adela Rand.”
Zara had to swallow before she could manage, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“I’m delighted to say the same. That’s a V.S.S. insignia on your uni, isn’t it, dear?” The woman’s eyes narrowed as she studied the stylized golden V pinned on Zara’s high collar.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, that’s one way to solve the hemosynther problem.”
Rand blinked. “How’d you find out about that?”
“I make it a point to be well informed about my only son. Especially since you won’t tell me a damned thing. I would have sent you the ‘synther, Rand.”
“It’s not your job to provide me with supplies. It’s my employer’s.” Frowning, he changed the subject. “So. Are you on Falara yet?”
“Oh, yes. I’m meeting with Godsson in an hour, in fact. We’re supposed to be discussing those ideas I have for his new Falaran territories. So far he seems to be very enthusiastic.”
A muscle worked in Rand’s jaw. “I trust your bodyguards are staying on their toes.”
“I can handle myself, Nick. I used to be a merc too, if you remember.”
“Which won’t keep you from getting blood all over that pretty suit.”
“It’s in Godsson’s best interest to make sure I stay safe, given his eagerness to cut a deal.”
Zara had held her temper about as long as she could. “You might want to keep in mind that Godsson doesn’t have this planet yet. He’s not in a position to make deals.”
Adela studied her in the fraught pause that followed. “It’s only a matter of time, I’m afraid. The Falaran Army is outnumbered and outgunned. The newsies say the capital is expected to fall in a week -- perhaps two at the outside. I’m afraid you find yourself in a rather uncomfortable position.”
The woman was so calm about discussing the virtual enslavement of a million people. As if Falara were some corporation she was buying. Zara opened her mouth for a hot retort.
But before she could spit out something ill advised, Rand covered her hand where it lay fisted on the table. “Enough, Zara.”
“But…”
“Zara.” Something about the look in his golden eyes made her close her mouth. It wasn’t anger, or even a dominant’s arrogant demand that his sub shut up. It was more like a plea for understanding, and a promise that he would explain. Just not now.
Adela’s lips pursed as she eyed him, then flicked a glance at Zara. “The lieutenant’s not just a solution to the hemosynther problem, is she?” She sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile. “It’s about time.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Mom, she’s a prisoner of war.”
“You don’t fool me, Nick. You always know exactly what you want, and you get it. And then you don’t let go.”
Zara found her tongue at last. “Ma’am, we just met last night.” She grimaced. “Under circumstances that were far from ideal.”
“He rescued you somehow, didn’t he?”
“Ma.”
“That’s what I thought.” She nodded, satisfied. “She’ll do, Nick. You always were a smart lad.”
“That’s not what you said when I was seventeen.”
“You were seventeen. Too much testosterone, not enough brain development.” Seeing Zara’s confusion, Adela explained, “On the night he’s talking about, we fought over his wrecking his brand new sports zipper. Damn near killed himself plowing into a traffic buoy.”
“There was barely a scratch on me.”
“Because you were incredibly fuckin’ lucky. There wasn’t enough left of that flyer to flatten into a sheet of aluminum foil. I almost passed out when I saw the remains.” To Zara she added, “I said something unwise about his need to be more responsible and told him he was grounded. The next thing I knew, he’d ditched his bodyguards and poofed. I was still losing my mind when he finally called three days later and told me he’d become a vampire -- and joined Valentine’s Vamps.”
Zara studied him, bemused. “Why in the hell did you do that?”
He shrugged. “I figured otherwise I’d grow up to be another pampered asshole corporate prince. I knew a lot of guys like that and I didn’t want to be any of them.”
His mother grimaced. “Yes, but you didn’t have to become a merc, damn it.”
“You told me enlisting in Randal’s Raiders was the making of you.”
“Well, yeah,” she admitted. “But that was me. You were my baby boy, and I didn’t want anybody shooting at you.”
“Getting shot at did me good. Knocked all the asshole out.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Zara murmured.
Adela laughed. “Oh, I do like her. She’ll keep you humble.”
“Would you stop?”
“But I’m having such fun…” To Zara she added, “He must have done something right -- he grew up to be a hell of a man.”
Rand grinned, obviously pleased at the compliment. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“I could use you in the company, you know.” Adela grimaced. “I just had to sack my Chief Operations Officer for being a pampered asshole corporate prince.”
Rand flicked a look at Zara. “I’ll think about it.”
“Really?” Adela looked startled. “The last time we talked about this, you refused to even consider quitting.”
“Getting shot at is losing its appeal.”
“It has appeal?”
He laughed. “I love you, Mom. Tell those bodyguards they better not let you get hurt, or corporate prince or not, they’ll find out just how big an asshole I can be.”
“I’ll be sure to pass the message along.” Her gaze grew serious. Weighted. “Take care of yourself, son.”
“You do the same.” His expression went equally grim. “I hear Godsson’s a tough negotiator.”
Her jaw flexed. “So am I. I love you, Nick.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
Adela’s image disappeared.
Rand stared at the empty air left behind by his mother’s vanished image. Anxiety lashed him like a dominant’s neurostim whip until he wanted to steal one of the camp’s pulse fighters, fly to Godsson’s base, and blow hell out of anyone who threatened Adela Rand.
Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be a good idea.
Oh, he could steal one of the flyers without much trouble, but he’d have to endanger Zara to do it. Without armor she’d be vulnerable as hell, and the Godssonists wouldn’t hesitate to blow her pretty blonde head off.
Too, once he was in the air, his vampire advantages disappeared. He was a good pilot, but only that. The mercenary pulse pilots defending Godsson’s headquarters were the best money could buy. They were literally jacked into their machines, and their reaction time was even faster than his. To make matters worse, Godsson had been able to hire a lot of them because all the other mercs were as desperate for work as Rand had been when he’d taken this Godawful job.
Luckily, Mom had a small army of skilled and nasty bodyguards to keep her safe.
Zara was another story. She was now in far more danger than his mother, and her only protection was Rand. So he needed to ge
t his head out of his ass and take care of her, because the shit was about to hit the turbos.
It was time to put his contingency plan into operation.
Chapter Five
Rand, Zara thought, looked incredibly pissed off. Worried as hell, too. It was obvious he loved his mother a great deal, and was convinced she was in some kind of danger.
Well, Adela did plan to meet the invasion leader, who was the target of more than one Falaran assassination plot. What kind of business deal was worth that sort of risk?
Still, why was he so convinced she was in imminent danger, as if someone was actively gunning for her?
Maybe he was just intensely protective. Zara felt that way about her parents too, which is one reason she’d gone to war to begin with. The Godssonists were a threat to the whole planet, including her family. She’d felt driven to do something about it, even if that meant becoming a Vampire Support Specialist in order to maximize her effectiveness in combat.
At least she hadn’t blindsided her mother with that decision the way Rand evidently had. Then again, she hadn’t been a teenager, either. Not that her parents had been any happier about the idea than Adela, but Zara had been twenty-one. At the end of the ferocious argument that had followed, both her parents had basically flung up their hands in disgust.
“Go. Do what you want to do,” her mother said. “You will anyway.”
“Just be careful,” her father added. “We do love you, even if you drive us crazy.”
They’d understood the sense of duty that drove her. They should. They’d instilled it. They…
Rand rose from his seat in a muscular rush of vampire speed that sent Zara jolting back to the present. She looked up at him in alarm.
“Get your boots on,” he said over his shoulder, moving to kneel beside his foot locker. “We need to get the hell out of here.”
“Why? Where are we going?” Did he intend to race off after his mother? Surely not. An officer couldn’t just up and leave his post. Not without getting court martialed, anyway.
He gave her a hard smile. “We’re going on a picnic.”
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