by Milana Jacks
He chewed on a piece of bread. “How can anyone be an outlaw in a land with no law?”
“Good point.”
He chuckled. “I gamble and acquire wealth from unlucky bastards or plain stupid bastards.”
I frowned. “Gamble? You mean play cards?”
“Poker. Do you play poker?”
“I do, actually.”
“We’ll play a game sometime.”
“I have nothing to bet.”
Nentres leaned in. “You have your clothes.”
Feeling a bit…hot from the heat in his eyes, I picked up my pen. “How many people do you plan to invite to the party?”
Nentres leaned back and tapped his fork on the plate. Click. Click. Click. Was he trying to annoy me? ’Cause it was mighty annoying.
“I reckon about three hundred prospects.”
Oh boy. “So about six hundred people. No problem. You have a large home. It can be done.”
“Why six hundred?”
“One invitation per person, and they can bring one guest.”
“No. Only virgins at my ball.”
“It’s really a ball, not a party?”
“A ball.”
What the hell was a ball? “A masked ball?”
“Good idea.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Does it?”
I jotted down the count, tapping my pen on the paper, thinking about how I was gonna find three hundred human virgins. “Does it what?”
“Does it sound fun to you?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
He tapped his fork on the plate again. Click. Click. Click. I wanted to take it from his hand and poke him with it. Annoying!
“What are you thinking about?” he asked and wiped his mouth, then pushed aside his plates to make room for his elbows on the table.
“I need to figure out where to find three hundred virgins.” Or how to stab him with a fork and run away with my inheritance money.
“Had you accepted my marriage offer, you wouldn’t have this problem.” He winked.
“I like my problem.”
“You can put that on top of tomorrow’s list of likes.”
What a conceited jerk. “I will.” I tapped my pen.
“Amy, let’s say I’m interested. Would you come to my ball?”
“Not a virgin. Remember?”
“I’d make an exception.”
I gave him a blank stare. I would rather eat a plate of bacon than compete for a man’s attention with three hundred women. My mom had said that when a man loves a woman, he would go above and beyond to make her his. I didn’t see why I should go above and beyond for an outlaw with a gambling problem. Even if said outlaw was one of the handsomest men I’d ever seen. Drool-worthy handsome, the kind of handsome in a league of his own, and certainly out of mine. I pictured this guy with a Stepford wife living his perfect little life. “Nah, I’m good,” I said. “Let’s talk about the lighting. The light sets the mood in the room. It’s everything. Oh, and music. I bet New Orleans has got some great bands. Do you have any bands in mind?”
“Why not consider an opportunity to marry me?”
I didn’t take the bait. “Do you have a date set for the ball?”
“Saturday.”
Today was Sunday. “Are you serious?”
“As sweet tea.”
“I need to get going, then. Is there anything else you want to tell me, or are you leaving it all up to me?” I hoped he would leave me to it. I worked best alone and on my own schedule.
“You never answered my question.”
I sighed. “It bugs the crap out of you that I find you resistible, doesn’t it?”
“Why, yes, it does.”
“You are handsome,” I told him. An understatement.
“I know.”
“And rich.”
“Mm-hm.”
“But I got other things on my mind right now. That’s all.”
“Tell me about those other things.”
“Planning a ball. Coming up with a list of likes. Seeing what to do with my new circumstances.”
“What about your circumstances? They’re not bad. You live in the nicest place in all of the state of Louisiana. Most women would sleep with me for the opportunity.”
I ignored the part about sex. “Good on you. Let’s define the parameters for prospects.”
His fork clicked the plate again. “Those are easy. Like my bride should be. Easy.”
I jotted down easy. “And?”
“Quick to obey. Which would disqualify you even if you tried.”
Stepford! “Boom. There you have it. I’m disqualified based solely on my rebellious nature.” Not even close. I never rebelled. Even though cyborg functions bored me, I mingled with suitable cyborgs in order to find a husband and get off my stepmom’s back.
“Everyone can be trained.” Nentres smirked. “Some may need more training than others, but I would make an effort for my wife.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“But you will.”
Next to easy, I jotted down docile. “So, about the lighting.” At least he had electricity here. Must pay a fortune for the luxury. My cousins outside the habitats used candles.
“It’s set already. We’ll have natural light.”
“Solar power?”
“No, from the fire.”
I looked around the room. Decorative torches stuck out of the walls, the flames flickering in a…docile fashion. Suitable for daylight, but not good enough for nighttime. “We need more fire,” I said.
The flames ignited, doubling their size, and the heat washed over me instantly. I shivered, suddenly feeling cold. Fire hazard, I jotted in my notes, then rubbed my hands together and pulled my sleeves over them. “Nice trick.”
Blue eyes glanced from me to the nearest torch and back. “I haven’t done a thing.”
I rubbed my shoulders.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“Nah. I’m good.”
A crack sounded from behind me, and I turned in my chair. George threw something into the fireplace, a ball with little flames around it. But those flames spread instantly all over the wood.
“There’s not enough wood to heat up this place.” I suppressed the urge to criticize their lack of environmental consideration. After the volcanic devastation and the resulting Ice Age, wood was hard to come by, and the Cy urged us to conserve natural resources. Cutting down trees for wood rubbed me the wrong way.
“The wood is a decoration,” Nentres said.
I turned back and got my pen again. “How so?”
“The fire burns on command and will burn for however long…I say so.”
I chuckled. This guy cracked me up. His egomania bordered on delusional. He thought he could command the fire. “You mean you train the fire to burn?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. And I know one other thing I’m gonna need to train.”
“Is it your dog?”
Nentres
My spirit found me handsome and charming, but not charming enough to sleep with or even consider marrying. I wanted her. Bad. I couldn’t give three or twelve shits that we’d met only an hour ago, and found it completely unfair I was the only one involved in our relationship. If Mother Nature, who had given me a dragon beast that day in the barracks, was here, I would tell her she’d made a mistake in gifting us the spirits.
From what I understood, it wasn’t the first time she’d made a mistake. She’d told Lance that the previous Earth elemental caused the volcanic eruptions and tried to end the world. I wondered if he went on a self-destructive streak over a woman. It could’ve been. Men did all kinds of things for women, while this one sat here with her pen and wrote silly notes instead of paying attention to me.
I drummed my fork on the plate, the clicks easing my temper.
If my beast hadn’t stirred and if the fire all around me didn’t buzz in my ears, I wouldn’t have believed this gir
l was a spirit, essentially a mate for my dragon beast and therefore a wife to me.
We did have a relationship, whether she liked it or not. “George.” A sharp, loud command.
“Still hear well, my lord.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Not in the mood, they said. “Show Miss Trahan into…the room. Let her rest, think things over.”
“I don’t need rest, thank you. Can I see those invitations my stepmom talked about? I’d like to match the color patterns.”
“There’re no invitations.”
“So how did people know to tell her you’re having this ball thing?”
“Word of mouth.”
She chewed her lip. “I need nice paper. Thick and beige. I think that would go with the house décor.”
“Hm?”
“For invitations. I’d like to get started on those and get them done by this afternoon.”
“You mean real invitations. Like wedding invitations?” What in the Lord’s name… “I think you should relax a bit in your new room and worry about this ball thing tomorrow.”
“But there’s no time to relax. I gotta print at least a thousand invitations and distribute them.”
Well, Amy wasn’t a quitter. I ran a hand through my hair. Hardheaded woman too. “Why one thousand?”
“Operating at a loss. Not everyone will come.”
“Ah. And where would you distribute them?”
“Around.”
“The habitat? I doubt a bride from the habitat would suit me.”
“Boom. I’m from the habitat.”
I’d walked right into that one, and Amy sassed me. I wanted to paddle her ass. At that thought, I showed her my teeth. “Invitations are paper, which is made out of trees. We can’t have that.”
“There’s paper now that is not made of trees,” George said and walked to the boxes I’d swiped from the Cy delivery ship as it descended on the habitat. Stealing from the Cy was my ultimate pastime.
George opened a box and pulled out a stack of colored paper.
“It’s perfect,” Amy said and left her chair, a bounce in her step. Planning this event excited her. I was competing for her attention with a stack of paper. At least with another man, I could eat him and make him disappear. What could I do about this damn ball?
The spirit must come to the ball. Lance had given me the message from Mother Nature when she’d visited him back in July. I’d hold the damn ball.
Amy sat on the other end of the table, then looked up and eyed the pen she forgot to bring.
I picked it up and brought it to her, then put my fists on the armrests on either side of her. Her shoulders pulled back instantly, her spine straight as an arrow. I sniffed around her ear, behind it, and her scent made me dizzy. I wanted to taste her skin, so I kissed her neck. She didn’t cock her head to give me access, just stared straight ahead. I inhaled, my nose more sensitive than a human’s. No feminine arousal either.
I wanted to bite her.
So I did.
I bit her neck.
Amy yelped and fisted her hands but said nothing.
I licked the place where my teeth had left a mark. “What’s the plan, Amy?”
“Plan?”
“Yes, the event plan.”
“Right. That.” She cleared her throat.
Alleluia, I’d managed to put her out of her comfort zone. Maybe I should bite her more. I’d bite her nipple next, then her earlobe, then her clit… And those thoughts went straight to my dick. If it were up to me, I’d bend her over the table, give her a swift paddling, and fuck her in both holes. Now, that would be a nice way to start my morning. “Yes?” I prompted. “You were sayin’?”
“I need a computer.”
“Don’t have one.”
“A printer?”
“Nope.”
“It’ll take me forever to write these by hand.”
“You have forever.”
4
Amy
George had dropped off my suitcase in a room with burgundy walls and white trim. I closed the door and leaned against it, rubbing my left wrist. Writing over two hundred invitations made my hand sore. Cindy had helped me with another hundred, and with three hundred invitations finished, I was good to go for tomorrow. Cindy and I brainstormed ideas on how to get those invitations into the hands of virgins and came up with a plan. I’d sleep on it. In a really nice bedroom.
If the guest room was this magnificent and as big as our entire apartment in the habitat, I couldn’t imagine the size or the décor of the master bedroom. Not that I cared what it looked like since Nentres occupied it with an ego rivaling the size of his house. Yes, well, he could have an ego when he was that hot, but still, some humility wouldn’t hurt him.
I touched the place on my neck where he’d bitten me. Thankfully, his teeth hadn’t left a mark. While writing out those invitations, I’d felt like some sort of marked property, which only solidified my resolve. I needed this ball over and done with so I could find transport that would take me to my cousins. In Pittsburgh, I would get a job and carve out my own path instead of having Stepmom carve it out for me.
I rubbed my hands, feeling a bit cold, and walked to the fireplace. The flames rose higher. I stepped back. Nentres must have some sort of tech in the house to keep the house and the adjacent homes warm, or people would freeze to death in the winter months. The Cy parts on the cyborgs kept them warm, and the habitat’s temperature regulation kept the humans inside warm, but outlaws didn’t have those resources, and the Ice Age winter approached.
In October, New Orleans’s average daily temperature was in the fifties, compared to its pre–Ice Age temperatures in the low seventies. At night, midthirties was a blessing.
I rounded the fireplace and found myself inside the bathroom. The tub alone could fit five people. I stood there thinking I’d lived all my life in luxury inside the habitat. Not. This badass tub was luxury, its cream rustic tile a perfect match for the antique mirror hanging above the sink.
A clear bottle with pale pink liquid stood in the corner of the tub. I picked it up, opened the container, and sniffed. Rose-scented liquid. I threw some inside the tub, plugged the drain, and twisted the faucet. Hot water poured over the liquid, making it bubble up. I stripped and got in, then leaned my head back and watched the fire rise from the torches at the gate through a large window overlooking the front lawn.
Beyond the mansion, darkness settled over New Orleans, or, as Nentres called it, Nawlins, and I imagined only the habitat shone bright in an otherwise unlit city. My dad had grown up here and had told me stories about the nightlife, often saying how New Orleans held a special flair and was unlike any other city in the States. His family lived in the poor parts, and he’d gotten into trouble quite a bit in his youth until he met my mom and, in spite of his parents’ protests, followed her back to her hometown in New Jersey, where they faced Mom’s parents’ protests. My mom was white and my dad was black. My paternal and maternal grandparents had never met one another or approved of my parents’ union, or me, and their refusal to accept the union led to my parents’ late marriage.
I turned the ring on my finger, the one Mom had inherited from the grandma I’d never met. Nentres seemed interested in it, and I was surprised he hadn’t pressed me to hand it over as a part of Stepmom’s bribe. He could still ask me for it anytime he wished, though why he’d want it when he had all this was beyond me. It was a simple gold band with an amber stone, not even a diamond, but for all I knew, this ring could be worth a lot more than what met the eye.
I still wondered how Nentres got all this wealth when the entire world outside the habitats suffered. Stealing family heirlooms and selling them couldn’t buy him everything I saw around here. Poker games? I didn’t believe that. How much poker did he play, and how much did he bet? With whom? Cyborgs, perhaps. Nobody else had this much wealth.
Not that it mattered to my circumstances, other than that I depended on him to keep a roof over my head. I hated h
aving to depend on anyone, but I couldn’t do anything about it, and with the winter coming, I needed something permanent ASAP. The only thing I could hope for was that I would learn how to live an outlaw life from the people around me, even if they didn’t appear to live a typical outlaw life. I needed to learn how to get around the country on my own, become street-smart, as my daddy would call it. An outlaw like Nentres would know quite a bit about street smarts.
I dunked my head under the water and emerged to find Nentres in the bathroom. “Oh,” I said and covered my breasts, pulling up my knees. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He hooked both hands behind his head and pulled off his T-shirt. He let me peruse his glorious body, where every abdominal muscle was clearly defined. It was amazing to see a human man’s body without any metal parts. His self-centered persona clearly loved attention, and he appeared unapologetic about his ego. I might’ve licked my lips.
Nentres bent and dropped his gray sweatpants, then kicked them in the corner. I forced my gaze to stay locked with his blue eyes while he stepped inside the warm bath with a sigh. He got comfortable, even spread his arms along the sides and sprawled. I refused to look past his neck while contemplating what to do.
I couldn’t get out because I was naked. I couldn’t kick him out either. But I could try. “I’m naked,” I said.
“I’ve noticed.”
“What…like, what the fuck?”
He smirked. “Fucking is on my mind, believe me.”
“It’s not on mine!” I screeched.
“I know. Relax. A rub?”
“No, no rub.”
“Shampoo?” He offered me a bottle. None of the bottles were labeled, so I had no idea what was in any of them. I extended my hand, but he jerked the bottle back, a playful smirk on his face. “Turn around.”
“Why?”
“I’ll wash your hair.”
“I have hands.” I lifted them, wiggled my fingers.
“I could restrain them, if you want.”
Silence stretched between us until Nentres shook the bottle, indicating he wouldn’t give up and I’d leave the tub with dirty hair.
I could rebel, or I could get a rub. I gave him my back and knelt on the seat inside the tub, making sure to give him the kinky-hair spiel and tell him that I needed loads of conditioner or it would knot. He listened and started with the shampoo. Cold liquid touched my hair, then Nentres’s fingers rubbed the shampoo in, starting from the top and working their way to my temples, where he paused for a massage. I suppressed a moan but couldn’t help the way my head tilted back. The back of my head touched his torso, and I jerked up, but he stopped me. “Relax. I don’t mind. Open your eyes.”