by Ivy Barrett
“He has dark hair and glowing amber eyes.” She shook her head with a sigh. “That’s not much help, I know. That’s why I wish I could draw.”
“What did he say?” Impatience crept into his tone as Mal Ton repeated the question.
“Two crewmembers survived the crash. Max arrived a short time later. He told the first to take three of us to ‘pirautiel.’ Does that mean anything to you?” Mal Ton shook his head, so she went on. “Matthew was the other surviving crewmember. He’s the one you morphed into. Max told him to take four of us to sector nine. I’m presuming that’s where you found us. The last location made no more sense than the first. It sounded like ‘my stressaphy.’”
“To which location did they take your sister?”
“I don’t know. It was dark and she was led away by one of the men who arrived with Max.” Mal Ton took her hand and started back along the hedgerow. “Where are we going?”
“To see if Fane can make sense out of any of this.”
Chapter Six
“I knew you could read my mind.” Lorelle’s gentle smile made Mal Ton ball his fists. She was flirting with Fane.
“I never told you I couldn’t.” Fane must have sensed a blast of jealousy. He looked at Mal Ton as he smiled. “I only told you the image you transmitted to me didn’t require the ability. Why don’t you tell Mal Ton what you were imagining?”
Lorelle gasped and slapped Fane on the arm. Mal Ton scowled. He didn’t want them touching each other. He hated their comfortable camaraderie. Fane knew they were mates even if Lorelle had yet to accept it.
Fane turned back to Lorelle, his expression guarded again. “Focus on the leader. Remember every detail about his appearance, the tone of his voice, how he moved.”
Lorelle closed her eyes and Fane pressed in close behind her like he had been when he cupped her breasts and—
Enough, Mal Ton. You’re distracting me.
I know you were cautious once I was aware, but how far did it go before the inhibitor wore off?
Fane’s hands dropped to her shoulders and he gave her a little squeeze. “Your lover is disrupting my concentration. Will you please tell him what happened before he regained consciousness?”
Lorelle opened her eyes and raised her chin. “First of all, Mal Ton doesn’t own me. If I had fucked you, it’s none of his business—not to mention it would have been done to save his ungrateful hide. Second, he might not trust me, but he has no reason to mistrust you. I’m not going to dignify his attitude with a response.” She guided Fane’s hands to her head and said, “Carry on.”
You haven’t told her?
Annoyed by the amusement in Fane’s tone, Mal Ton pulled out one of the desk chairs and sat. He would tell her once she’d recovered from all the other surprises. Lorelle wouldn’t consider leaving until her sister was found, so the mate issue could wait a little longer.
“I can barely see him,” Fane said. “Can you make the image any clearer?”
After a short pause, she shook her head. “That’s what he looked like to me. Dark hair, shadowy features, and glowing eyes.”
Fane lowered his hands. “Neither of the locations you mentioned means anything to me. Either they’re some sort of code or you’re not remembering exactly what he said. His language didn’t mean anything to you then, so it wouldn’t be surprising if your mind twisted the word or phrase.”
“How do we untwist them?” Mal Ton asked. “This is all we have to work with right now.”
“Take her to the data center and have one of the technicians run the words through the Protarian database.”
Mal Ton stiffened at the suggestion. Renée was the best stream analyst they had and she’d been panting after him since he arrived. Was Fane amusing himself?
“I told her to back off.” A hint of a smile tugged at one corner of Fane’s mouth. “Do you want me to reinforce the command?”
“I can handle Renée.” He stood and motioned Lorelle toward the door to Fane’s office.
“Who is Renée?” Lorelle waited until they were alone in the corridor to pose the question.
“One of Fane’s people. She’s… interested in me.”
“I’m pretty sure we met. Shoulder-length brown hair and big brown eyes?”
“That could be a lot of people, but the description fits Renée.”
They turned to the right and followed the sloping passageway to a door that accessed the abandoned subway tunnels. The air was stale and the ground cluttered, sections of the tunnel nearly blocked by collapse. He ignited the mutant intensity of his gaze and cringed. The additional illumination was a mixed blessing. Walking was easier, but now they could see the rat-infested debris.
She’s a soldier, you ass. Surely she’s seen worse than this.
Undeterred by their dismal surroundings, she walked along at his side. “You don’t return her interest?”
“Not in the least.” Her persistence pleased him. If her feelings for him had abated with the virus, Renée’s interest wouldn’t bother her. “Renée is a mutant groupie. Her own abilities are minimal, so she augments them as often as she can.”
“And how does she do that?” She ignored his proffered hand as they climbed over a massive pile of rubble.
Stubborn and independent to the end. Her antics made him smile. “Some people absorb our abilities if we have sex with them more than once. The abilities are always temporary, but it’s dangerous for several reasons.”
“A spy could figure out who can do what if they are willing to have sex indiscriminately.”
“They could, and do.”
“If you know Renée is doing this, can’t she be… exiled or something?”
“Renée isn’t a spy. She just envies those with more unusual abilities.”
“Like you and Fane?”
“Yes.” He climbed onto a grimy platform that had once been a subway station and helped her out of the culvert dissecting the two sides. “We’re almost there.”
She followed him in thoughtful silence as they climbed briefly to street level. “Why was this section of the city deserted?”
“Resources. As the population diminished, it made sense to consolidate.”
They were on the fringes of Old Towne now. The lights and sounds of Sanctum were just out of reach. Her gaze lingered on the huge metropolis as he led her into an alley between two tall buildings. He pulled open a nondescript door and ushered her inside.
The data center was located in the basement of a derelict office building, somewhat isolated from the rest of the Underground. Twelve workstations, each with multiple screens and a sound booth from which the mutants could monitor Protarian communications had been assembled in one corner of the cavernous room.
“This is unexpected,” Lorelle said softly. “Where do they get power for all this equipment?”
“We tap into their primary grid,” the young man nearest them told her. “We’re like tiny insects. We take a nibble here and a nibble there, continually modulating the entry points so they don’t realize they’re infested.”
Their conversation drew the attention of several technicians. Renée pushed back from her workstation and hurried toward them.
“Mal Ton!” Her smile was radiant until she noticed Lorelle. “What can I do for you?”
“Info search. We have a couple possible locations, but the words might be distorted.”
“No problem. I can compile a list of similar matches and prioritize them with specific criteria. Are you still trying to locate the humans Max intercepted?”
“Yes.”
Renée walked back to her workstation. After a quick, assessing glance, she ignored Lorelle completely. Mal Ton took Lorelle by the hand and followed Renée.
“All right. What am I searching for?”
“The first one is pirautiel or pirateal,” Lorelle supplied.
“I’ll input both and see which generates more possibilities.”
&n
bsp; “The locations will have to be isolated or provide an environment where incarceration is the norm,” Mal Ton explained.
“Are you certain they’re still on Protaria? Captives would be a whole lot easier to hide on Stilox. That entire planet is a wasteland.”
“As long as you don’t need to breathe,” he reminded.
“True. Locations within the climate domes might be a bit harder to find.”
“See what you can come up with on Protaria. If nothing fits, we’ll broaden our search.”
“Fair enough.” Renée continued constructing the search criteria. “You said the first one is pirautiel. Do you need another search?”
Lorelle nodded. “The second phrase was ‘my stressaphy.’”
“Or something similar?”
“I’m afraid so,” Mal Ton said.
“You know, Max might have been referring to a person,” Lorelle mused. “‘Take them to Fane’ as opposed to ‘take them to the Underground.’”
“If I’m searching for people too, this might take a while.”
“Send a runner as soon as you have anything useful.”
* * *
Lorelle woke suddenly as awareness jarred her senses. Mal Ton lay behind her with one of his arms draped over her waist. His scent surrounded her, enticing and arousing her. She enjoyed the intimacy for a moment as sleep’s haze receded from her mind. Why were they in bed again? He’d agreed to give her some space and let her sort through her feelings without his undeniably distracting presence. Hadn’t he?
They’d returned to the main hideout and scrounged together a quick meal. She’d hardly been able to keep her eyes open, so Mal Ton insisted she get some sleep. A brief argument had followed when she’d refused to return to his bedroom. Finally he’d relented and escorted her to a guest room.
She rolled onto her back and shook his shoulder. “Mal Ton, wake up.” Candles sputtered to life an instant before his eyes opened. He moved his knee between her legs and shifted his hand to her breast. She shoved with more force, anger flaring through her confusion. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He looked around, blinking in the candle’s wavering light. “Why are we in a guestroom?”
“No, why are you in my room? You promised to back off.”
With obvious reluctance he disentangled their bodies and sat. “I must have… sleepwalked.”
“Yeah, right.” She scooted off the side of the bed and grabbed her discarded pants. “You walked down the hall and hacked the door lock while you were sound asleep?”
He glanced at the door then back at the bed, his confounded expression almost believable. “I was too restless to sleep, so I read through some files Fane gave me. I must have dozed off at my desk. Our bond is stronger than I realized. I honestly don’t remember coming in here.”
She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Lust isn’t a bond, it’s an inconvenience. We are not going to fuck again. Just get over it!”
He launched himself across the bed and dragged her beneath him in one lightning-fast motion. Snatching the pants out of her hand, he tossed them back on the floor. “It would be easier to believe your argument if the scent of your arousal weren’t making me dizzy. I can’t explain it. This doesn’t generally happen to Seconds. All I know is this is real. You are my mate and I am yours. Denials are a waste of time.”
His mouth covered hers with the same possessive aggression that defined their every embrace. He pressed her into the mattress, urging her legs apart with his knees. Capturing her wrists, he drew her hands over her head and rubbed his erection against the apex of her thighs.
She gasped and his tongue thrust into her mouth. This was different than the virus, yet undeniably sexual. Her panties and his clothes were no barrier for the heat radiating off his body. He moved against not inside her, but the simulation was no less exciting. Her inner muscles throbbed and her clit tingled. She could hardly breathe.
“Has lust ever felt like this? Has your body ever demanded its master?”
Jerking against his hold, she turned her head to the side. “No one is my master!”
The jerk just laughed. “We’ll start with mate and work toward master. Do you deny wanting me?”
“It’s called lust, asshole,” she snapped. “I already admitted that I want you.”
His gaze narrowed and he shifted both her wrists into one hand, freeing his other to touch her. “I didn’t ask for this. The female triggers the soul bonding. You did this to me.”
“Well, I sure as hell didn’t do it intentionally.” A bit of the fight went out of her as each frantic breath filled her head with his scent. She longed to feel him deep inside her, ached… for his mastery? Afraid to explore the possibility, she turned her face away. “How do we turn it off?”
“We don’t.”
He found her nipple through her top and teased the sensitive crest. She wiggled and tossed her head. This couldn’t be happening. She didn’t want an alien lover, much less a mate. Brianna was still out there. Lorelle didn’t have time for erotic games! His hand slipped beneath her top and enjoyed the hard peaks he’d created. Her body had no problem with surrender, but her mind rebelled.
“I can feel the heat of your pussy.” He pressed closer. “Are you as wet as I suspect?”
Keeping her legs wedged open with his torso, he lifted his body off hers and settled on his knees. He eased his hand inside her panties and traced her slit with his fingertips. His gaze bore into hers and reality narrowed as if by his decree. This was Mal Ton, her mate, her… master. Why did her mind keep coming back to that word?
Her heart thundered and her body burned. A tangible current arced between them, resonating through her entire body. She stared into his eyes and felt her heart take on the driving rhythm of his pulse.
“Is this lust?” His finger circled her opening, accenting the ache and how wet she’d become. “The virus is in remission and my crisis is long past. Why do we need each other so badly?”
“I’ll never be your slave.” Even as she whispered the vow, her hips arched, driving his finger into her core.
“Never?” He pulled back, robbing her of the tiny hint of fullness.
“Stop teasing me! Yes, I want your cock, so what? Why do you have to make it into a mystical bond?”
“It is a mystical bond. It’s elemental and undeniable and wonderful.” With an impatient snarl, he ripped the sides of her panties and dragged the fabric out from under her. His aggression drove her arousal higher, increasing the tension and the heat. He added a second finger and shuttled in and out of her slick passage. She rocked into each shallow thrust, wanting so much more than his fingers. “You need to stop lying to yourself.”
She bit back her argument. As long as he kept touching her, she didn’t care what he said. His thumb brushed across her clit and her pussy clenched. Yes! Just a few more… He dragged his fingers out and she went wild.
Kicking and bucking, she jerked her hand free and lashed out at him. He caught her wrist an instant before her nails slashed his face. His chest pressed against her until her struggle was reduced to furious yanks and muttered curses.
“During the second phase of bonding fever the female becomes combative. The male must overpower her, compel her to submit, proving his strength and virility.” He whispered the words into her ear as he rubbed his shaft against her mound. “Can you explain the emotions seething inside you? You want to kill me, but you want to fuck me even more. Sound about right?”
“You’re deranged. I’m just pissed off.”
“Really?” He released her and rocked back on his heels, challenge gleaming in his eyes.
As if someone else were controlling her body, she reared up and jerked his vest down along his arms, desperate for the feel of his naked flesh. Her mouth fastened onto one of his nipples while her hands stroked and squeezed. God, he felt amazing, hot, hard, and…
Her ravenous gaze fixed on his crotch and she reached fo
r the fastenings at the top of his pants. He caught her wrists, halting her determined quest.
“Each time we do this the bond grows stronger until it’s permanent. Do you understand that?”
She shoved against his chest and collapsed across the bed. “If you’re not going to fuck me, then get out. I can’t wait any longer.” Why did her voice sound so shrill? She stared at the long, thick ridge in his pants and skimmed her hands up and down her body. “I’ve done just fine by myself for years.”
Unable to stop herself from provoking him, she parted her folds with one hand and rubbed her clit with the other. This wasn’t her. She would never behave so brazenly.
He growled and pounced. Flipping her onto her stomach, he straddled her knees and drew her hands to the small of her back. One of his fists held her wrists as securely as any restraint. “No one touches you but me.” He punctuated the order with a firm spank on her naked ass.
She howled and struggled, angry and ashamed. Why was she provoking him when she desperately wanted comfort, not more confrontation? None of this made sense.
His large hand connected with her other cheek, sending heat and tingling sensations spiraling up her spine. “Your pleasure belongs to me. Say it.”
“Fuck you!”
“No one touches you but me. Say it!”
Her only response was an exasperated cry and a stinging flurry of spanks peppered her bottom like punishing hail. She stopped struggling and absorbed the heat, the intensity, allowing it to flow through her body and soothe her raw nerves. Gradually his fingers released her wrists, yet she lay motionless before him, arms still crossed behind her back, a willing prisoner to her need for discipline.
“Your skin turns so red.” He grazed her sensitized ass with his fingertips, the touch almost reverent. “It makes me crazy.”
She whimpered, pleased by the offhanded praise, yet unwilling to accept the ramifications. She would not be his slave! She would not kneel and beg as he controlled her future.