Justin leaned his forearms on the wall. “You’re saying that if this client vouches for me, you’ll let me go?”
“I can at least stop the termination order.”
Justin remained where he was a moment longer, then he straightened up. “Nope. Sorry, darlin’. A Shareem doesn’t kiss and tell.”
Deanna made a noise of exasperation. “Gods, why are you being so stupid?”
They were going to kill him. This beautiful specimen of a man would be injected with drugs until he lost consciousness and died, then his perfect body would be incinerated.
Deanna reached to the transparent wall and spread her fingers across the cool plasti-glass. The gesture went against all her training, but for some reason she wanted to do it. She had to get through to him.
“I’m not supposed to tell you this,” she said, “but the people on the Vistara wanted you to be terminated as soon as I slapped the cuffs on you. They didn’t even want me to bring you down here and lock you up. I made the decision not to listen to them. You were my bust, my prisoner.”
Justin’s eyes flickered, and she saw a flash of serious anger in them. But Shareem couldn’t get angry—could they? Not like this, not with murder in their eyes.
“Well, aren’t you a love?” he said, his voice going soft. “Deciding that the poor Shareem gets to live?”
“If you sign a statement promising you’ll never set foot in the Vistara district again—and obey it—I might be able to let you go.”
He didn’t hesitate. “No.”
Deanna balled her fists. “What is the matter with you? Make the promise that you won’t go up there again, and I might be able to get you free. Help me help you.”
Justin came out of his negligent stance and slammed into the wall in front of her, fists against the plasti-glass. Deanna started to back up in alarm, but she made herself stay in place.
He couldn’t hurt her, couldn’t get out, couldn’t even do the Shareem trick of using pheromones to relax her. The cell walls, set up to contain any kind of prisoner, including off-worlders who might have telepathy, wouldn’t let him.
“You’re only offering to ‘help’ me so you can sign off on your fucking report,” he said in a hard voice. “The Shareem wouldn’t cooperate, so he had to die. Not your fault—you followed the rules. That’s all you want, Patroller.”
“Deanna.”
“What?”
“My name isn’t Patroller. It’s Deanna. Deanna Surrell, Patroller First Class.”
He stared down at her. “You trying to be my friend now . . . Deanna?”
He pronounced the name carefully, his voice taking on a sensuality that reached through the glass.
“I’m not trying to be your friend,” Deanna said, softening her tone. “But I don’t want to see you terminated because some sticks-up-their-asses, wannabe rich folks decided you ruined their pristine street. That’s not fair. But I can’t help you if you won’t work with me.” Deanna put her hand on the transparent wall again, directly over one of his fists. “Please, Justin.”
Chapter Two
The please got to him.
This had to be a first. A patroller saying please to a Shareem.
Her brown eyes had warmed, and the hand placed directly over his was a sweet gesture. She’d look beautiful with a scarf around her wrists, she on her knees, begging him with that look in her eyes.
Deanna. Lovely name. Justin could whisper it while he cupped her breasts, again while he slid his hand down to find the wet heat of her pussy.
His cock tightened, and Justin immediately shut off his thoughts. The last thing he needed was a big hard-on, here in these cells where he couldn’t hide it.
“Sign the statement, and you can go,” Deanna said. “As easy as that.”
Justin rested his forehead against the transparent wall. He’d not negated her assumption that he’d been on his way to visit a client, because he sure as hell wasn’t about to tell this patroller the real reason he’d gone to the Vistara.
And no way would Justin sign a document promising he’d stay away from the district. Not while Sybellie lived there.
Sybellie, his daughter.
Shareem were not allowed, on pain of death, to father children. If Justin had to be terminated to protect the knowledge that Sybellie was the offspring of a Shareem, so be it.
Sybellie did not know that Justin was her biological father and neither did her adoptive parents. He would never let that knowledge out, because the gods only knew what the asshole women in the Bor Nargan government would do to Sybellie if they found out she carried Shareem DNA.
They might shut her away, experiment on her, dissect her, or simply kill her. Justin wouldn’t risk that, not even to save his own life.
But, damn it, she was his daughter. He wanted to see her. He needed to see her, even for a brief hour across a crowded street.
“Please, Justin,” Deanna said.
That please again. It did funny things to his insides, even through his worry and anger.
Maybe if Justin did please this patroller, she’d let him out and dismiss the case. He could please her with a little screwing, maybe in her cubicle, on her desk. He didn’t have his box of equipment with him, but he could make do with a piece of cloth for her mouth, maybe a belt for hand restraints. Level-two Shareem were good at improvising.
Deanna’s handheld beeped.
“Excuse me,” she said.
A patroller being polite to a Shareem. What a day.
Deanna touched a button on the handheld and read whatever text was flowing to her, her mouth pursed.
A sweet, red mouth, with moist, plump lips. Nice for kissing and other things that mouths were good for.
Justin couldn’t stop himself thinking these things, even with her holding his fate in her hands. He’d love it if she could hold something else in her hands too. It would make his inevitable termination all the sweeter.
Deanna snapped off the handheld. When she looked at him, the sympathy in her eyes had been replaced by a hard, angry glare. “You have friends in high places.”
Justin had no idea what she was talking about. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been ordered to let you go, all charges dropped.” And didn’t she look pissed off about that?
“I guess it’s not your lucky day, darlin’.”
Deanna’s voice went crisp. “The order comes from none other than the ruling family. Is one of them another client of yours?”
Justin said nothing. If the order came from the ruling family, he had a pretty good idea who’d told them to do it. He knew only one member of that family, a pretty lady called Brianne, who’d hooked up with not one, but two Shareem. Looks like it helped to have Shareem friends who were regularly fucking powerful women.
“Yes, yes, I know.” Deanna sounded disgusted. “You don’t kiss and tell.” She pushed buttons on her handheld. “If this holds up my promotion, Shareem, I swear to the gods I will make your life hell. I might make your life hell just for the fun of it.”
No more, Please, Justin, no more first names.
Too bad. The sincerity in her eyes had been there. The anger she showed now was outrage that someone had stomped on her authority and made her look stupid. Justin could almost feel sorry for her.
Almost.
Justin pressed a wet kiss to the glass and laughed when she whirled around and strode away.
“I’m looking forward to it, sweetheart,” he called after her.
*** *** ***
“Brianne,” Justin said many hours later as he lifted yet another glass of ale. He was drunk, unsteady, and didn’t care. “Let me kiss you. Can I kiss you?”
Brianne d’Aroth, granddaughter of the woman who ruled Bor Narga and advocate for Shareem rights, glared up at him. “No. Justin, you idiot.”
“Sounds like my baby’s pissed at you.” Aiden, Brianne’s asshole level-one Shareem lover, stopped and grinned at Justin. Blond Aiden had been face sculpted, and his features were a work of art.
&nbs
p; Aiden slid his arm around Brianne and kissed her cheek. “You do not want to get this lady mad at you, Justin, trust me.”
“Why not?” Justin slurred. “She won’t go down on you when she’s mad?”
“Nope, she can be a real bitch about it. Won’t even watch Ky do it to me either.”
“Aiden, my friend, your life is pure hell,” Justin said.
Justin was a little more sanguine than the other Shareem about the relationship between Aiden and Ky—two Shareem who’d gone from being best friends to being lovers. On Sirius, all kinds of relationships were accepted, fully legal, and not considered shocking, as long as everyone involved was adult and consenting.
Brianne heaved a sigh. “Will you two be serious? I had to pull every string I had to get you out of prison, Justin. If I hadn’t, you’d be marching to the termination chamber even now. I had to give my word that you’d never go up to the Vistara again. Do you understand me?”
“I understand.” Justin took a last slurp of ale and stared morosely at the bottom of the glass. “Days like these I miss Sirius, boring as it was.”
“So why did you come back here?” Aiden asked. “You never have come up with a good explanation.”
“Because it’s none of your damned business.” Justin had to keep saying that. Maybe someday someone would listen to him.
“That’s true,” Aiden said. “But you’ve got us curious.”
Red-haired Judith, who owned the bar, snatched Justin’s ale glass from the table but didn’t give him another one. “Leave Justin alone. He’s had an ordeal.”
Justin slid his arm around Judith’s waist as she cleared the table. “This is why I came back to Bor Narga. Because I heard about this great bar owned by a sexy lady named Judith.”
“Bullshit,” Judith said, but she smiled.
Justin slid his hand downward until he could give her ass a little fondle. Judith pulled away, but not in anger.
“Don’t,” she said. “Mitch doesn’t like it.”
Aiden, Justin, and another Shareem called Braden, who’d strolled up, said “Oooo,” at the same time. Aiden added, “Mitch doesn’t like it.”
Judith blushed while they laughed. Mitch was a human, off-world pilot who’d taken to coming to Judith’s bar. He’d also taken to Judith. Justin hadn’t heard that Mitch had asked Judith to be exclusive, but good for her.
Braden, the black-haired Shareem who’d just arrived, slid himself onto a stool at Justin’s table. Justin had shared an apartment with Braden when he’d first returned to Bor Narga, but had moved out when Braden’s new lover, Elisa, moved in.
“I’m glad for Judith,” Braden said as Judith walked away. “She deserves someone special after having Shareem manhandle her for years.”
“Not that I ever heard her complain,” Aiden said.
Justin said, “But does Mitch keep his hands off other ladies when he’s not here? He needs to play fair.”
“I say we ask him,” Aiden said.
“Good idea,” Braden said. “We need to make sure he’s good enough for our Judith.”
“Excuse me,” Brianne said loudly. “I notice how deftly you all managed to change the subject. I need to know why I had to pull rank to get Justin out of jail this afternoon.”
“Let it rest, Bree,” Braden said. “It was a patroller getting her panties in a twist and taking it out on Justin. Besides, Justin’s not used to taking orders. He actually got to live like a human being for a while. He probably pissed off the patroller by not kissing her ass when she told him to.”
Justin nodded, as though Braden had nailed it.
Braden and Elisa were the only people on the planet, besides Rees, who knew the true reason that Justin had returned. They’d all kept it quiet, even from the other Shareem, understanding that the less their friends knew, the safer it would be for all concerned.
Brianne made another noise of annoyance but gave up, and Justin let out his breath in silent relief.
Aiden pulled Brianne against him and kissed her hair. “You know, baby, I’m in the mood for some rough play. How about we go find Ky and let him have his way with us? Then when he’s done, I’ll soothe it all better.”
Brianne blushed, but she looked ready for what he wanted. Aiden was a level one, pure sensuality—scented oils, massages, slow sex. Ky, on the other hand, was a level three, which meant bondage play—varying from easy to hardcore, depending on what the lady wanted. Aiden and Ky balanced each other perfectly, opposite and complementary at the same time.
Aiden led Brianne out of the bar, and Braden and Justin watched them go.
“Sometimes I wonder what the three of them do together,” Braden said. “And sometimes I just don’t want to know.”
“Hey, it works for them,” Justin said.
“And I’m good with that.” Braden took drink, wiped his mouth, and leaned in to Justin. “But seriously, why did you go up to the Vistara again?”
Justin’s head started to ache. “I wanted to see her.”
“If you get yourself executed, my friend, you won’t see her at all.”
“I know.” Justin tilted his chair back on two legs and leaned against the wall. “I want so bad to see her, and at the same time, it kills me to.”
Braden gave him a sympathetic look. “You found Lillian, yet?”
Sybellie’s mother. Justin had returned to Bor Narga to find them both. “No. Nothing.”
“Elisa hasn’t turned anything up either,” Braden said. “But don’t worry. Elisa’s the best librarian on the planet. If there’s a record, she’ll find it.”
“It’s getting bloody impossible.”
“Don’t give up yet, my friend. We’ll find her.”
Braden could afford to be optimistic. He’d paired off with Elisa not long after Justin’s return. Justin was glad for him, but their happiness gave him a lonely feeling. Justin had lived with a woman on Sirius—Shela—for fifteen years, and they’d been lovers and best friends. He missed her like crazy.
Justin needed to change the subject. “What’s it like for your lady, living with you and your jokes all the time? Who ever heard of a cheerful Dom?”
Braden grinned. “Hey, she loves me. Anyway, isn’t that what level twos do? Spank and laugh?”
“Fun and games. Whipped cream and furry handcuffs.”
Braden shook his head. “Boring. Fake bondage.”
“Bondage-Light,” Justin corrected. He pushed himself up from his chair. “I’m outta here. Judith has cut me off, and I need some sleep.”
“Take it easy out there,” Braden said, expression serious. “Brianne can’t always be around to cover your ass.”
“Don’t worry. I learned my lesson.”
Like hell he had.
Braden watched with a skeptical look as Justin said good night to Judith and got himself out of the bar. Justin had taken the apartment next door to the bar—with Judith’s help—a tiny place, but there he could shut out the world and get some peace.
Justin went inside, stripped off, showered, dried himself, and landed facedown on his bed. The excess of ale sent him quickly to sleep.
He dreamed of a patroller with pretty eyes and sexy ankles threatening him with a gun loaded with whipped cream. He was naked, and so was she.
The whipped cream dripped coolly across his back and down his body. He felt a hot tongue licking and licking, teeth on his ass, as she ate the whipped cream from him, dollop by dollop.
Then the patroller with the big brown eyes turned him over and smiled at him, right before she wrapped that beautiful mouth around his cock.
She suckled and stroked, tongue tickling the underside and driving him crazy. Justin got harder and harder, his hips rocking as she suckled him. Gods, it felt good. Harder, baby, harder.
Justin wanted to taste her in return. He’d spread her legs, dribble the whipped cream across her pussy, bury his face in her, and lick her clean.
In his dream, he heard the click of handcuffs, felt the familiar velve
t of his lined ones around his own wrists. She put the loaded whipped cream gun against his temple.
“No, Shareem. I do this my way.”
Her way meant squirting whipped cream all over his chest, then licking down to his cock. Swirling her tongue around the tip, the heat of her mouth closing around him. Squeeze, suck. Yes.
Come. I want to come. Justin wanted to mark her with his seed, so she’d know she belonged to him.
And then she’d arrest him. She already had him in cuffs. Maybe she’d swat his ass, making it sting, before she cooled it down with whipped cream. Then she’d lick him again. He’d like that.
Justin would break free, and he’d catch her when she tried to get away, and do it all back to her . . .
A heavy buzzing cut through his dream. What the fuck? Maybe the whipped cream gun was overloading.
Another buzzing, sharper, more insistent. It shattered the dream like glass, and the pleasant sensations vanished into smoke.
Justin opened his eyes. He found his hand around his throbbing cock, his head pounding just as hard. He peeled his aching hand from his penis and reached for his hangover pills.
Another buzzing. The front door. Shit.
Justin rolled out of bed, pulled a tunic over his nakedness, and stumbled into the front room. He slammed the door open. “What?”
He’d expected Braden, or maybe Rees. What he got was his sexy patroller, Deanna, who walked right in past him.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
Chapter Three
“Come in.” Justin said to the open door. “Make yourself at home.”
Deanna looked around the small living room strewn with Justin’s clothes and other junk. Shela had always yelled at Justin to clean up, but without her to motivate him, Justin had lost interest.
“You live here?” Deanna asked.
Justin let the door slam. “No, I stand in the middle of this room for the hell of it.”
Deanna peered into the corner kitchen then at the alcove that led to his bedroom and bathroom.
“It’s very small.”
“It’s claustrophobic. But I didn’t have a choice.” Few wanted to rent to Shareem. He’d been lucky to get this.
Tales of the Shareem, Volume 2 Page 35