Their Defiant Human

by Ivy Barrett

  Her inner muscles rippled at the thought. Pleasure swept through her in a heated rush, coalescing in her pussy. She sucked on Roark’s tongue and squeezed Mal Ton’s cock, wanting the climax to go on and on. Mal Ton thrust to the hilt and shuddered with each forceful spurt of his seed. Roark stayed with them, gentling the kiss until the last tingle had faded.

  “Is it always so intense?” The restraints released and she collapsed into Mal Ton’s arms.

  “Was there something different about this?” Mal Ton teased, and Roark slugged him.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, not yet willing to be empty. “Where do we sleep?” Mal Ton tensed. The reaction was subtle but she felt it nonetheless.

  “Seconds are for fucking. It’s our custom to sleep alone.” He carefully separated their bodies and placed her on Roark’s bed. “Our negotiations will resume tomorrow.”

  Chapter Seven

  “What was that about?”

  The bewildered pain in Andrea’s eyes tore at Roark’s heart. He sat on the edge of the bed and took one of her hands between his. “Some Stilox males choose to be Seconds because they enjoy the freedom. Others are genetically predisposed for the position regardless of the preference.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Do humans have different blood types?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, Stilox males have one of two distinctly different types of sperm.”

  “You told me this already. What does it have to do with being a Second?”

  “The genetic contribution of the two males is not equal. Type A sperm is dominant, so more of its genome is transcribed during conception. Type B is necessary, but ‘secondary.’ That’s how the title originated.”

  “So Mal Ton wants to be a mate but his sperm is the wrong type?” Before he could respond, she asked another question. “Didn’t you say your fiancée ran off with your Second? Did they go looking for another Type A man?”

  He heaved a sigh and released her hand, crawling onto the bed beside her. “I was young and foolish. Most couples choose their Second before the union is finalized. There is always some sexual interaction. If the woman can’t respond to both men, the union is pointless. Baylie took it a step further. She convinced us she would only agree to the union if we succeeded in making her pregnant. One of the first mutations resulted in infertility so it actually made a certain sense.”

  “Was she pregnant when she took off with this other guy?”

  “Yes.” He saw pity blossom in her gaze and fought back a smile. It had been a long time since anyone gave a damn about him. “The child didn’t survive and to my knowledge, Baylie never conceived again.”

  “I’m sorry about the baby. That was your child too.”

  He nodded, surprised by how little the memory stung. “Having a child would have been wonderful, but having a child with Baylie would have been hell.” He consigned the memory to the past where it belonged. “It was all a long time ago.”

  “Do the contributions have to be made… one right after the other? How long will a half-fertilized egg wait for the Second?”

  “There’s about a twelve-hour window. When the first stage of conception occurs, a combination of hormones is released, making the female extremely aggressive. That’s why Seconds tend to be stronger and more dominant than mates. They have to be able to control the woman once she turns feral.” She stared off into the distance for a long time, her brow knitted, lips pursed. “What’s the matter?”

  “My contraceptive injection is current, but did you scan me for—”

  “You’re not pregnant. I never would have let Mal Ton touch you if my seed had taken root.”

  “Then why are we acting like lust-crazed fools? I have never done anything like this before.”

  He smiled, his gaze drifting to her breasts. “We’ve all been isolated and stressed to the limit of our endurance. Is it really so hard to believe that we’re…” He searched for the correct Standard word. “Horny?” She finally smiled and curled up on her side facing him. He deactivated the lights, found the sheet, and pulled her into his arms.

  * * *

  “What will it take to gain your cooperation? No more threats. No more games. State your conditions or name your price.”

  When Mal Ton had said they would continue the negotiation in the morning, Andrea hadn’t dared to hope he meant a conventional negotiation. She emerged from the bathroom a few moments before after indulging in a real hot-water shower to find Mal Ton and Roark locked in a heated debate. The debate ended abruptly as soon as she appeared and then Mal Ton made his unexpected suggestion.

  “Why are you suddenly being so accommodating?” She held the lapels of her bathrobe together, feeling oddly vulnerable.

  “Though incredibly pleasurable, last night was a strategic disaster,” Mal Ton informed her.

  “You’re not afraid of him anymore,” Roark added. “We’re wasting our time with the old tactic.”

  Still absorbing the unexpected offer, it took her a moment for Roark’s words to sink in. “We’re wasting our time?”

  Crossing the room with three long strides, he reached for her. She slapped his hand away. “You’re not his prisoner, are you?” There had been clues all along. She’d even been suspicious at times. Still, she hadn’t wanted to believe he was part of the deception.

  “I’m Stilox just like Mal Ton.” He stayed a step back, his gaze bright and compelling. “Our situation is beyond desperate. We’re asking for your help.”

  “You manipulative bastard!” She glared at Mal Ton. “That goes for both of you. How can you admit you’ve been lying to me since I got here and ask me to help you in the same breath? I can’t believe your arrogance.” She wasn’t even going to think about what happened the night before. She would lose her mind right along with her temper.

  “Bryson tried conventional negotiations and you turned him down. What choice did you leave us?” Mal Ton flared.

  She gasped, marched up to him and raised her hand to slap his face. “Don’t you dare try to put this on me!” He easily intercepted the blow and guided her hand back to her side.

  “What would you do to save the lives of everyone you love?” Roark’s tone was quiet yet challenging. “Would you steal to feed your siblings? Would you lie to protect a friend? Would you manipulate and coerce?”

  “Would you kill?” Mal Ton added with a raised brow.

  “Don’t threaten me. I’m no use to you dead and we both know it!”

  “I didn’t mean it as a threat. If someone was about to detonate a bomb that would wipe out everyone you love, would you pull the trigger?”

  A shiver passed along her spine and her anger started to dissipate. She frantically tried to gather it back. She could not give in to them! If she cooperated now, she would never be safe again. Anyone who wanted her expertise would use similar tactics. Well, the lying and manipulating part, hopefully not the mind-blowing sex.

  “You told me you would negotiate if Mal Ton set you free,” Roark reminded.

  She closed her eyes, knowing what would come next.

  “You’re no longer a prisoner,” Mal Ton said. “If you insist, I will take you to a transport station and purchase your passage back to Earth. I obviously can’t take you myself. Your government will need to believe you escaped.”

  Her eyes flew open and she tucked the bathrobe more closely around her trembling body. “My government accepted generous compensation for me. Chances are pretty good they’d load me up and bring me back.”

  “We need your help, Andrea.” Roark drew her attention back to him.

  His skillful seduction was even more upsetting than Mal Ton’s threats. Mal Ton had made her senses burn, but she genuinely liked Roark. She had—past tense—genuinely liked Roark. Tears blurred her vision and she stubbornly blinked them back. This was all backward. Men manipulated women to get them into bed. They didn’t fuck them to gain access to their minds.

  She turned around, un
able to suppress her tears. Warm hands cupped her shoulders and she twisted away. “Don’t you dare touch me!” She’d expected Roark but Mal Ton stood behind her. He raised his hands and stepped back, allowing her to compose herself.

  Neither man spoke for a long time. She listened to the rushing of blood through her ears, using the rhythmic sound to insulate her from the torrent of emotions. Mustering as much control as she could, she wiped her damp cheeks and turned around.

  “I will be treated with respect.” Mal Ton hadn’t gone far. He stood half a pace away. “That ridiculous contract you keep throwing in my face is officially terminated. I want my own quarters and neither of you will ever touch me again.”

  “Andrea—” Roark began.

  She cut him off with a glare before she turned back to Mal Ton. “If by some miracle I’m able to pull this off, I want your word that you will do everything in your power to negotiate a permanent ceasefire with the Protarians. And you will do everything in your power to ensure that no one with the capability of turning RENA into a weapon will be allowed anywhere near the process. I will not save your people just so you can continue this war!”

  He clasped his hands behind his back and inclined his head. “My word is sincerely given.”

  “I want someone else to assist me,” she told Mal Ton, too angry to even look at Roark. “I can’t stand the sight of either of you right now.”

  “There is no way to accommodate that condition but I agree to the rest.” Mal Ton motioned Roark toward the door. “We’ll be waiting for you in Roark’s office. Take as long as you like.”

  * * *

  Roark followed Mal Ton from the bedroom. Andrea refused to look at him and he couldn’t blame her. All things considered, she’d responded… She’d looked as if they’d kicked the shit out of her—abused and defeated. He’d never felt worse in his life.

  “Give her a few days to calm down,” Mal Ton suggested. “She gave herself to you again this morning. There is definitely something between you.”

  “There was something between us. Somehow I suspect it will take more than a few days for her to forgive us for this.” Pausing to pull on his shirt, Roark moved behind his desk and sat down. This would force Andrea to sit beside Mal Ton, which was probably for the better. “You’re taking this all in stride. Didn’t any of this bother you?”

  “She already thought I was a ruthless bastard.” He shrugged. “Not much has changed.”

  She entered the office a few minutes later dressed in a leaf green shirt and black pants. Her face looked freshly scrubbed and she’d combed her hair into glossy blond waves. The only indication of her upset was the shadow of pain in her eyes.

  “What did you do with the test subjects?” she asked Mal Ton as she slipped into the chair beside him.

  “Someone else beat us to them but I found out something odd. They were all female. Is there some element of your procedure that is gender exclusive?”

  “Not unless the mutation affects women differently than men.” He shook his head. “We need to know more about these test subjects. Is there any chance you can get me a passenger manifest or whatever passes for one around here?”

  “I’ll certainly try,” Mal Ton promised.

  “I can’t imagine why Bryson would think I need off-world test subjects in the first place. Has the mutation spread beyond these two planets?”

  “I haven’t heard about outbreaks anywhere else.” Mal Ton looked at Roark. “Have you?”

  It was a clever ploy to encourage her to converse with him. Roark appreciated the effort. “To my knowledge it’s just Stilox and Protaria. Stilox was ravaged by the initial outbreak but there have actually been more cases of mutation on Protaria.”

  “And the Protarians don’t share your triploid physiology.”

  “Everything about them is inferior,” Mal Ton added with an arrogant smirk.

  “Do your people know how long they’ve possessed the triple helix?”

  She addressed the question to Mal Ton, but Roark answered. “He’s a soldier. I’m a scientist. We can continue to talk through him if you like, but you might want to remember that he suggested the deception.”

  After a long pause, she turned her head and met his gaze. “Unless you want me off this planet, I wouldn’t bring it up again.”

  “Fine.” Roark consciously relaxed his jaw so he could speak without growling. “Why do you keep coming back to the triple helix?”

  “I barely scratched the surface while you left me alone in here, but I suspect the third strand is an intentional redundancy.”

  “How will it help you reverse the mutation?” Mal Ton asked.

  “If every person is carrying around an uncorrupted copy of their DNA, I should be able to use it as a pattern for transcription. That is if I can get RENA to play nicely with your physiology.”

  “I understood about half of that.” Mal Ton shook his head and stood up. “What do you need to get started?”

  “I’ll give her a tour of the lab,” Roark said. “Then we’ll let you know.”

  * * *

  “The cargo list was manipulated. Our mutual friend needs accurate information. Once you’ve learned the truth, share the details with our mutual friend and then return to me. We can no longer risk any form of transmission so I’m glad you like to travel. As always, you are invaluable.” Nehalem blew out a sigh and deleted the encrypted message. The chances of interception were minimal yet Fane wouldn’t have asked this of her if there was any other way.

  Had the order come from Fane or had it been issued in his name? ‘Invaluable’ was a code word Fane used to authenticate his messages so she was confident the Mutant Underground was making the request if not Fane himself. She fervently hoped he was still alive, but the computer-generated voice made it impossible to know for sure.

  Navigating through a series of menus, she accessed communications and entered Daniel Keller’s identification code. Only two people knew the true identities of the passengers on the downed transport—General Bryson and Chancellor Howyn. She wasn’t on speaking terms with her husband and her interest would only make him suspicious so that left Keller. A locater pulse revealed his location. He was still in his office on the fourth floor of Chancellor Howyn’s headquarters.

  “Always the last to depart,” she muttered. “Such dedication.”

  Should she wait until he went home? It would decrease the chances of them being caught on a surveillance feed. No, it might work to her advantage to surprise him at work. He’d be less likely to make a scene.

  Changing into a slinky brown dress with just a hint of shimmer, she covered the sexy ensemble with a dark brown cape and headed for the tram station. Twenty minutes later she stepped off the tram and crossed Old Towne Square, the heart of Sanctum’s business district.

  Lights in many windows proved that Keller wasn’t the only one with an inflated sense of responsibility. Her government level clearance got her into the building but her first obstacle would be getting an elevator to take her to the fourth floor. She’d been loitering in the lobby for a few minutes debating her options when someone exited one of the cars. Flashing a friendly smile, she ducked inside the lift before the door slid closed behind the worker.

  “Fourth floor,” she instructed the computer, holding her breath as she waited for a response. Some lifts required identification to board the car. Others used scans to determine access to individual floors.

  “That area is restricted. Please step in front of the scanner.”

  Damn it. She wanted to surprise him. There was no way around it. Keller would have to activate the lift. “Person-to-person page, Daniel Keller.”

  Light flickered within the com-panel then Keller’s face came into focus. “Is there something I can help you with, Mrs. Bryson?”

  She let the cape part, revealing the formfitting dress beneath. “You stood me up last night. That wasn’t nice.”

  “I thought you were coming to me,” he said after a slight pause.
r />   “I’m here now.”

  The elevator started moving and she smiled.

  He waited for her halfway down the corridor on her right. His shoulder rested against the threshold and his gaze followed the sway of her hips. “We’ll have a lot more privacy if you—”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed him back into his office with the momentum of her embrace. “I don’t mind an audience. Do you?” Her mouth found his before he could answer. She kissed him feverishly and raised one of her legs to rest on his hip.

  Grasping her thigh with one hand, he slipped the other under her dress and boldly cupped her ass. “I can mute audio,” he whispered against her lips, “but video is monitored continually. If the signal is blocked for any reason, security will burst through the door.”

  “Tell me when it’s safe to talk.”

  He circled her slowly, speaking only when his back was to the door. “The transmitter is in the corner beside the door and at least one person on each shift can read lips.”

  Kicking off her shoes, she turned toward the door and produced her sexiest smile. “Maybe you better strip search me. I could have concealed weapons.” She locked her hands behind her head and let challenge fill her eyes.

  “They’ll have the whole security team crammed into that tiny office if I start undressing you.”

  She turned around, placed her hands on his desktop and spread her legs. “So let’s give them a performance they’ll never forget.”

  “If we start this, it will seem damn suspicious if you suddenly leave.”

  Meaning she better let him fuck her if she wanted his cooperation. Her back was to the transmitter so she was free to speak. “It will seem even more suspicious if you don’t get over here.” She wasn’t opposed to a good romp. Keller was certainly easy on the eyes. And if the vid ended up on her husband’s desk, so much the better. It was no more than the cold bastard deserved. She glanced over her shoulder and wiggled her butt. Did she have to do everything? “I’m waiting.”