by Mel Teshco
She followed the line of prisoners as they shuffled forward. Her nose wrinkled at the soyroom stew. It smelled like something between swamp gas and rancid shrimp. But with the extra mouths onboard, she wasn’t going to complain. Eat or starve. It was an easy decision.
Her mouth watered at the thought of tasting succulent guinea pig or even one of the goats that were kept onboard. But it was only the few elite and probably the officers who were lucky enough to eat real meat.
She kept a neutral face as a server proportioned out a too-small spoonful of the soyroom glop onto her plate, along with an even smaller serve of boiled rice. She took her plate and grabbed some cutlery. What soyroom lacked in taste, it made up for in protein and other vital nutrients.
She took a seat in a plastic chair at one of the big wooden tables. Despite the lackluster taste of soyroom, she and the other prisoners would live to see another day.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t one-thirty-three, mixing with the common prisoners.”
Lucinda looked up as her heart sank. Didn’t Stokes ever take some time away from work? Or was he deliberately taking on extra hours just so he could be in her face at all times?
“I’m here to eat, Sir,” she said in a carefully neutral voice, indicating her plate of food.
The guard leaned down and swiped some strands of hair away from her neck. “Yet it looks like something’s been eating you.” He stared down at her, his eyes flinty. “I don’t recall mosquitoes on the ship, do you, one-thirty-three?”
Her belly cramped. She hadn’t given a second thought to Jarred’s lovebite. But it was just one more step outside the norm, and Stokes had pounced upon it. He’d make sure she was under the scrutiny of all the women now.
She bit back a hateful retort and instead said, “I can’t say I recall any, no.”
A couple of women sniggered. That was all the encouragement the guard needed. “And yet that’s one of the biggest motherfucking bites I’ve ever seen.”
She pulled away from his repulsive touch, aware of the ice in her stare as she looked Stokes full in the eye. She stroked the still-sensitive mark on her throat. “Believe it or not, some men actually enjoy pleasuring a woman.”
The sniggers from the women intensified, and were joined by several more. Stokes straightened, his face a mask of fury. “Yet the pilot you fuck is a married man.”
Her breath punched from her throat. What the hell? No one else even knew Jarred was married … did they? Though the information would have been on his personnel file, it was privileged information.
Stokes smirked. “You swan around believing you’re better than anyone else. But in my books you’re less than a whore.”
He strode off amid the hushed but animated chatter of the prisoners, who were eating up this latest bit of gossip. The scandal was evidently far tastier than the soyroom stew.
Bloody hell, even the whites prisoner, whose specialty was explosions and caustic retorts, arched a sardonic eyebrow her way.
Lucinda pushed to her feet. She’d never been one to cut and run, but the last thing she wanted was to shovel down food that would likely come back up again. She wouldn’t give the women the satisfaction, as they eyed her with malicious stares and sudden interest.
She thrust her plate of food toward the closest woman, happy to draw the attention of many hungry eyes toward the plate. “Enjoy,” she muttered.
But once she was back out in the corridor, there was nowhere much she could go. Prisoners were given limited access, even on their days off. Most of the doors were automatically locked, unless one had the appropriate chip implanted in their wrist, and she most certainly didn’t.
No prisoner did.
What she did have was access to the service elevator that would take her back to the air crew level and the classroom where Jarred was teaching. But even as she headed that way, she wondered if she’d be welcome.
The class wasn’t for prisoners. It was off limits even to the civvies. The trainee pilots were handpicked for the job. No doubt the students were those who aced all their classes.
The door was closed … of course it was closed. The last thing a class of esteemed students wanted was undesirables like her showing up. She paused, one fist raised in midair. She could hear Jarred speak, the sexy timbre of his voice smooth and mellow, and all too fascinating.
Something within her warmed. She could well imagine the students, male and female, hanging onto his every word.
Her hand dropped back to her side. What was she doing? She’d be about as welcome in there as a dog with rabies. She turned around and retraced her steps. She’d go back to her cell, where she belonged.
As hard as it was to swallow, she wasn’t the only one who knew Jarred was married. That he was already taken had to be common knowledge, if even a guard knew the facts.
A heavy ache centered in her chest. She’d imagined herself special, a woman privileged to learn of his past.
“Lucinda?”
She froze at Jarred’s surprised voice behind her. She slowly pivoted. Damn, she’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard the classroom door open.
His eyes darkened. “Is something wrong?”
Only then did she register the trail of wetness leaking down her cheeks. She swiped it away, angry at the show of weakness. Her chin tilted. “Nothing I can’t fix.”
“You’re lying.”
Damn him to hell, could he read her that well already? She took a deep, calming breath. “I just … came to see you.”
He frowned, his stare assessing. “It couldn’t have waited until after my class?”
Her belly contracted sharply and she pressed a hand to her middle, dismayed by her own stupidity. God, she was acting so … needy. “Of course it could.” She backed away a couple of steps. “Please, forget that I was here.”
The last thing Jarred needed was his students to hear their exchange. She swallowed. Had she stepped over the line?
Jarred shook his head, “God, I’m sorry Lucinda, I’m being an ass. Please don’t go.” His eyes warm and reassuring, he opened the door wide. “Come in.”
She hesitated. Jarred knew she didn’t have permission to attend the advanced class. No prisoner did. But as she held his stare, his confidence leeched into her, filling an emptiness within. With a nod, she stepped into the room … and froze. Close to a dozen stares pinned her in place, making her understand exactly what it must feel like to be an insect examined under a microscope.
Jarred’s hand moved to her spine, warm and comforting. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my woman, Lucinda Farrell.”
My woman? The fact he even knew her last name barely penetrated the fog in her brain as waves of sheer delight crashed over her, drowning her in a sea of bliss. He might be married, but he’d just proclaimed to his contemporaries that she was his.
Hope pierced her soul, sharp with promise. Did this mean he’d finally buried his wife and let her go?
She only hoped his peers wouldn’t realize he’d made such a big announcement without the paperwork to back it up. They could use it against him and stir up trouble.
“Sir,” one of the students said, “she’s a lemon drop.”
Lucinda’s stomach roiled at the term given to prisoners. Would she never be anything more than a prisoner? A nobody? Someone who warranted no respect, all because of a uniform and a sentence she should never have been given?
Jarred faced down the cocky young man, who looked barely out of his teens. “I’m well aware of that, thank you Simms. And if you or anyone else,” he scanned every student in the room, “has a problem with her being here, feel free to leave now.”
A couple of students exchanged WTF glances, but none made any move to go. Why would they? Lucinda imagined the class was one of the most prestigious on offer, where only the best of the best would attend.
So what was she doing there?
Jarred’s hand dropped to his side when she took a chair at the very back of the classroom, away from
the group of students, who sat around a large, scarred table at the front. She exhaled softly, already missing the reassuring warmth of the pilot’s touch.
Even among a sea of prisoners she felt lonely, but right then she felt more like a bloodied goldfish in a tank of piranhas. She’d never felt more exposed or self-conscious.
For perhaps a minute she sat in her chair, fighting the urge to squirm. But soon enough she was swept up into the world of aeronautics and interstellar space travel. It all seemed so surreal. The ability to jump from one solar system to another seemed almost beyond comprehension, even though she was part of the journey that proved it was possible.
But mostly she was captivated by the pilot himself. He cut an imposing figure, sure and confident of his subject matter. It was enough for her to simply watch him as he spoke of star mapping, thrusters, astro-drifting, and jump boosters.
She pulled her stare from him to glance surreptitiously around the classroom. Three other women took part in the training, each of them hanging onto his every word, their eyes shining and lips slightly parted.
Her lips pressed together, eyes narrowing and her chest constricting. Holy crap. Was this what jealousy felt like? Was she jealous?
Jarred finished off his lecture by reminding the students to go over the text on their portacomps.
A couple of the women whispered together before casting a disparaging glance Lucinda’s way. She restrained a glare and instead smiled sweetly. No sense in making enemies with them, even if they’d never be friends.
The women turned away without so much as a nod of their heads. Clearly the gap in their social standings was too big, their interest in the same man too apparent. If only they realized that the line between civilian and prisoner was often blurred—she and Jarred were the perfect example of that. He had blood on his hands while she was innocent of any crime.
Her teeth clenched together. On second thoughts, the women probably wouldn’t really care. People saw what they wanted to see and heard what they wanted to hear.
She pushed to her feet as everyone but Jarred filed from the classroom, taking their animated chatter with them.
Jarred stepped toward her, his expression inscrutable. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
Lucinda bit her bottom lip, trying to steady the rush of emotions that intensified in his presence. “I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “I had nowhere else to go.”
His eyebrows lowered, tension suddenly emanating from him. “Don’t be sorry, I fully expect you to come to me and no one else.” He lifted a hand, his thumb tracking where her tears had been. “What the hell happened to you?”
She released a slow breath. “Stokes.”
His hand stilled even as a muscle flickered in his jaw. “He didn’t touch you?”
She shook her head. “No … it wasn’t that. It’s … what he said.”
His hand dropped from her face and balled into a fist. But she wasn’t frightened of him—far from it. His anger was all on the inside, repressed and ready to be drawn on. “What did he say?” Jarred asked quietly.
She couldn’t back out now. She’d thrown the dice, she had to play the game. “He said I was less than a whore.”
The pilot’s nostrils flared as he bit out, “Why?”
“Because I fucked you.” She swallowed. “Because I fucked … a married man.”
Jarred’s eyes darkened. If he’d been angry before, he was livid now. His every muscle coiled as if ready to fight. To harm. To kill. “No one knows about Emily.”
Relief chased away a sudden wrench of unease. His marital status had been kept private. She hadn’t been wrong about him, hadn’t been blinded by his charisma and the red-hot attraction between them. “That’s what I thought.” She caught her breath as an insidious thought wrapped around her mind and wouldn’t let go. “You don’t think I was the one who told Stokes, do you?”
Anger dropped away from his expression and left behind something fierce, primal. “I consider myself an exceptionally good judge of character.” He clasped her chin, searching her stare. “And you’re not the type to kiss and tell.”
Her legs threatened to buckle, sudden light-headedness making her dizzy. She’d never been so damn needy for someone else’s belief in her and it shook her right to the core. Just how deeply had this man affected her in so short a time?
His stare narrowed, sharp as a blade. “Part of why I’m good at my job is my ability to read situations; read people.”
She blinked. “Maybe you were wrong about me? There’s always a first time,” she whispered. Why was she trying to test him? Dear god, was her subconscious even now trying to push him away?
His voice was almost as soft, but a thousand times more deadly. “If that were true, and you really did break my trust, I’d find a way to break you.”
Chapter Six
Her heart thudded with illicit excitement, her pussy dampening in arousal. She had no doubt her punishment would be severe indeed if she’d broken his confidence.
She was no masochist but somewhere deep inside she wondered just what he’d do to her. She shivered. No, all the conjecturing in the world wasn’t enough to let her go down that path. Her voice cracked. “Never fear, your judgment of people—of me—is sound.”
His lashes drifted down, concealing his thoughts. Then he nodded, releasing her chin. “I know.” He cocked his head to the side. “For example, right now I can tell you want me even though you’re trying to deny it … preventing the very thing you want most.”
She licked her bottom lip and his eyes followed the movement. Eyes that were hungry for so much more. “What if I said you were mistaken?” she asked, her voice breathless.
His smile was wolfish, predatory. “But I’m not, am I?”
She relented with a shake of her head. She’d pushed him far enough. “No.”
“Just what I wanted to hear,” he said hoarsely before he gripped her hips and planted her on the table. He kicked aside the nearest chair and it skated across the floor even as he stepped between her legs. His hands slid down, clasping her inner thighs and spreading her wide.
She squirmed at his obvious carnal appetite, and then squirmed some more as the image of her pussy, bared and open to his hot stare, filled her mind.
He scraped the thick length of his arousal against her pussy and all thought ceased. Air punched from her lungs and wanton awareness roared into being. Holy shit. Her clit tingled and burned at the delicious friction. But she needed more … so much more.
His eyes glinted and his throat convulsed as he ground the bulge of his cock even harder against her, up and down, slow and taunting. “Talk to me, Lucinda. Tell me you’ll no longer deny me.”
She arched her back, pushing her sweet spot against him until she was so damp and aroused he shouldn’t need words to understand just how much she wanted him. But he wanted more from her than physical reaction alone. He wanted to hear her acknowledge it, and he’d rip the words right from her mouth if need be.
She groaned. She was no longer sure she cared. Sure, her heart mightn’t escape unscathed, but would she really prefer to spend the rest of her days empty and alone? Too scared to love? Too frightened to commit? Too stubborn to relent?
Her lashes fluttered, and then she looked him in the eye. “I. Want. You.”
His expression didn’t soften. In fact, his face became even more forbidding, as though her admission had pushed him over the edge, beyond the point of return.
Her pulse wavered and her mouth dried. He needed her and he wasn’t afraid to show it. Not to her and certainly not to anyone else.
“You won’t deny us again?” he growled.
“No,” she breathed. There was no way she’d deny him anything right then. Her mind was too fogged to think, her body too wired to wait. For fuck’s sake, if he asked her to walk across hot coals she wouldn’t say no—as long as he waited on the other side … preferably naked.
His breath hissed. “There’s no going back n
ow. We’re meant to be together. And I’ll do everything in my power to keep it that way.”
If she’d been rational and clear-headed she might have been scared. He’d killed for his wife and she had no reason to think he wouldn’t do the same for her.
As if reading her thoughts, he conceded huskily, “I’ve never been this way with anyone else, never felt as deeply as I do for you. Never imagined for one second that my soul mate actually existed.”
Her breath hitched. Her heart squeezed as though making a fist. Did she dare hope he meant every word?
His jaw clenched. “Lord knows I tried to ignore my feelings for long enough. But no more. I can’t live in the past. I need this … need a future.” His voice lowered. “I need you.”
“I need you too,” she all but whimpered. “Right here, right now.”
His cock juddered against her, restrained by his pants. “I won’t be gentle,” he growled. “I’m too far gone already.”
Her pussy clenched. She didn’t want gentle. She wanted hard and fast. She wanted reckless and passionate. Hell, she just wanted, period. Her voice cracked. “Then don’t be.”
He groaned. His mouth crashed onto hers, his tongue burying deep and his goatee tickling her jaw. She gasped at the ferocity, even as she wanted more. She wanted him drunk on passion and fierce possessiveness, wanted him thinking of nothing but their coming together until it was only her name filling her mind, her name in his dreams.
They drew apart just long enough to drag off one another’s clothes, their hands rough and even a little clumsy in their haste. Their chests heaved and breaths hissed, both desperate to get naked. To touch. To kiss. To fuck.
With his chest bared, his phoenix tattoo glowed under the light, his corded muscles rippling beneath it, seemingly bringing the creature to life. She sighed. God, he was the perfect specimen of a man. He was so tall and strong, his mind so brilliant, his hardened physique a work of art.
She reached down, prepared to tear off his pants if need be. He bent too. Their heads cracked together and she pulled back with a sharp cry.