by Unknown
She willed him to say something, but he tuned her out. She tried to pass it off as just his focus on the mission, but something inside her knew better.
They arrived at the Weston Mansion, where a party was in full swing. It might have been, for any other family, a fortuitous stroke of luck. However, the Westons threw a party every night, regardless of circumstances. They’d probably thrown one the night Maia disappeared. Corporate relations, they called it. Corporate relations like Hannah’s father worked in when he sold her as Blue Honey.
When Maia told Hannah and Dime what they planned, she asked if Hannah wanted her to give her father a message for her.
“Yes,” she said in a high, squeaky voice. “Tell him to fuck off.”
“Fuuuuuck off, daaaaaa,” Dime echoed.
The memory of the exchange made Maia smile, even though, technically, she walked right into the lion’s den. It was her den, though. Born and raised here, she had a right to come in and destroy the family who betrayed her so easily. Besides, she really liked lions.
Mark didn’t speak until they arrived at the front gate. The diplomats from both sides made sure their pilox-powered transport vehicle passed Blue society’s high standards, and found clothing suitable for a Blue society party. Maia would have preferred something that covered her ass a little better, but she’d performed in less. Besides, her assignment included distracting the guests. In this dress, that wouldn’t be difficult.
Mark cleaned up well. His black tuxedo fit him to a T. For a Spartan soldier, he fit into the traditional garb of the Blues as if it were made for him. Visions of seafoam pajama pants drifted through Maia’s mind, leaving her with damp panties to show for her naughty thoughts. Could he smell her arousal? If so, he didn’t acknowledge it.
Just as well. Duty called.
When the guard let them pass, Mark finally spoke. “You’re to distract the guests any way you can. If seeing you come back from the dead doesn’t do it, that dress should.”
His eyes darkened as he perused her ultra-short strapless red babydoll dress, and Mayflower’s breasts swelled. She adjusted her top, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.
“Just don’t fall out of that thing,” he remarked, his voice husky. “And watch walking on those heels. They lengthen your legs, but they’re hazardous.” He cleared his throat.
“I know how to walk in heels, Mark,” she said, pulling him to her as he prepared the aircraft for landing.
She kissed him hard and fast. When she let him go, he panted and the bulge in his pants showed his growing desire. Good, at least if something happened to them, she’d die knowing he’d wanted her.
A tall, butler-type person greeted them, not even blinking as he scanned their invitation. Maia didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t surprise her. Margaret, her sister, went through butlers like she went through lovers. Probably some of the butlers were her lovers. Meow.
Maia wrapped her arm around the crook of Mark’s elbow, and after one last lingering glance, he guided her into the party. In full swing, people gyrated to disco music and gathered in corners where low lights encouraged discreet interaction. Maia walked slowly, catching the startled glances of old acquaintances. Others turned deathly pale, like they’d seen a ghost. Well, they had.
One person in particular paled when he saw her. Jeffrey dropped his drink, the glass shattering into a million pieces. Cleaning machines rushed to take care of the mess. Mark’s hand covered hers. Jeffrey stared.
She felt nothing.
How could she have thought she loved this miserable prick? Handsome, yes. Cultured, yes. A pussy, big yes. She thought he might pass out. Hell, he wasn’t the one returning from the dead. She was.
With Margaret nowhere in sight, Jeffrey hurried toward Maia, grabbing her in a big bear hug.
“My God, my God,” he repeated over and over, eyeing her up and down. “My God, Maia, honey, it’s you.”
Yes, I’m aware it’s me, you goober.
She fought to keep from rolling her eyes, and instead let Jeffrey lead her to the dance floor. He jerked her against him, trying, probably to make everything seem fine to his guests. Did she have a surprise for him.
“Oh, Maia, I can’t believe it,” he whispered in her ear. Her skin crawled as the odor of his champagne breath tickled her neck. Ugh. His embrace was almost painful.
“Believe it, Jeffrey.”
“Do you know about Margaret and me?”
“Didn’t take long for you to get over my ‘death,’ did it?” Maia’s anger boiled to the surface. The slimy bastard. The band suddenly stopped playing, and she felt the need to let loose her anger. In song. Time for some distraction – and some vengeance.
She pushed Jeffrey away and hurried to the stage. Catching a glimpse of Mark slipping onto the balcony, she realized her timing had been perfect. Time to get this party started.
She whispered into the bandleader’s ear, and his eyes widened.
“Yes, we know that one by Rihanna,” he said. “Are you sure? It’s a bit risqué.”
“I’m one hundred percent positive,” Maia assured the maestro.
Bum bum de dum bum bum da da de dum…the music cued her into action and Maia began singing Disturbia, one of her favorites. As her voice echoed through the large ballroom, guests stopped and stared. She strutted from one end of the stage to the other, vamping it up, swishing her tiny skirt and flirting with the audience.
She rocked her hips to the beat, grabbed a seat and flipped it around, sitting on it backwards. By now the crowd clapped along, shaking and dirty dancing as she belted out her number. A few band members chimed in for the background vocals, and she flipped the chair back around, sitting on it spread eagle and singing to the crowd as if she told them a story.
Did she have a story to tell.
Her short dress covered her red panties, but her movements back and forth promised enough of a peek that the crowd swayed with her. God, she loved to perform. Jeffrey stood, paralyzed, watching her. It’d take an army to move him. The fearful little jerk. He never did have the balls to do anything himself, no matter how badly he wanted it. He…
Oh my God.
Realization dawned as the song ended and the crowd broke into a round of applause, cheers and whistles accompanying her descent from the stage. She strolled toward Jeffrey, intent on her mission, making sure her long legs moved gracefully and her hips swayed.
Time to get some proof.
Chapter Fifteen
The shouts and cheers faded at least ten minutes ago, but Mark found nothing in his search of Margaret Weston’s study. Maia’s voice echoed through his adrenaline-soaked brain. She certainly knew how to woo a crowd. No wonder Chico used her to distract his clients during their transactions.
He leapt onto the window sill, ready to make his way along the ledge to the next room when he heard the moaning. Drawn to it, he shimmied to the next high window and peered in.
He almost threw up.
The sight before him disgusted him. Maia, his Maia, lay beneath Jeffrey, writhing and bucking against him in a large brass bed. Sweat broke out on his brow and his chest tightened painfully.
He knew it. He’d known it all along. She never belonged anywhere but Blue society. She was too good for him, too good for the little he had to offer her. When he’d seen her green eyes, like the unusual green amber so highly prized in his own time, he panicked.
No goddess belonged with a mortal, and she was a goddess. She’d been so right. Aphrodite shit on him for years, and now taunted him with an unattainable angel. He clenched his fists. She deserved more than some damaged, used up piece of meat.
Her moans tore at him, threatening his sanity, and he swung away from the window. She’d been married to a Wellington, been a part of the Wellington clan. For once in his life he wished he were something more than a soldier. Being a Wellington must be a powerful aphrodisiac if she still loved the man who’d dishonored her memory so. She wanted him more than…
&nb
sp; Wait a minute. He recognized that orgasm.
The unusual wail caught his attention immediately, and he twisted back to the window. He’d heard it before, in Chilly’s warehouse. By holy Athena, she was faking it.
Mark watched, mesmerized, as Maia, Jeffrey humping her wildly, clawed at his shoulders—not using her nails—and yowled the most unsexy noises he ever heard. How someone with such vocal talent as Maia could be so bad at faking a climax astounded him. It didn’t matter. Jeffrey bought it completely.
He came with an “Uh huh uh huh uh huh, oh yeah,” and immediately collapsed on top of Maia, who blew a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes, her relieved, exasperated expression adorable. She extracted herself from beneath the dolt and shot toward the bathroom. Maybe fucking him made her physically ill.
Then why’d she do it?
Maia didn’t stay in the bathroom long. When she returned, she pulled her tiny dress on, looking as lovely as ever, and secured something in the hem. She looked straight up at him.
Maia gave him the thumbs-up sign and smiled like the beguiling wench she was. She winked at him, and the flush in her cheeks and mussed hair from her carnal activity gave her a tousled appearance he found irresistible. His hard-on raged, and even before she motioned for him to meet her outside, he knew instinctively it was definitely time to go.
Chapter Sixteen
Slipping out of the party after Maia’s performance proved easy. They made their way back to Camp in their aircraft, Maia’s reassuring smile teasing him unmercifully.
Then Mark remembered—she liked to be watched.
Her woman’s scent, her arousal, drifted between them, and his imagination ran wild. Her pussy lips drenched, pink and slick. Waiting for him to lick them dry so he could start all over again making her cunt beg for him.
He brought the aircraft to a skidding halt, turning off into an alley. Leaving it in hover mode, he grabbed her hand, yanking her along behind him, and she giggled, a pretty little tinkle ruining any chance he had for fucking her senseless slowly.
From behind. He wanted to take her from behind, fondling her tits while he rode her into mind-blowing ecstasy. She must have read his mind, because she positioned herself over the passenger chair and bent just enough he saw her damp panties.
“I’m not protected anymore, Mark. I had to dump my n-net to get the sample of Jeffrey’s DNA.”
Mark didn’t care. His rigid length drove the moist silk aside as he rammed into her and she cried out. Kneading her hips, he set his rhythm. This wouldn’t take long.
Clanking metal and a massive jolt stopped his ardent thrusts. Another jolt, and he found himself on the ground, Maia, stunned and her dress askew, on top of him. She tried to get her balance, but the next shake of the aircraft sent her rolling off him and onto her side. Metal screeched and the aircraft listed from side to side.
The chaos stopped as suddenly at it began. He helped her to her feet after replacing his cock in his briefs, and they searched around them for the cause of the disturbance.
“Sister, dear,” a nasal, condescending voice addressed them. “Didn’t have time to say hi after fucking my husband?”
“He was my husband first, you bitch!” Maia hollered, clambering forward to the telecom panel.
She flipped her middle finger up at the bleached-blond, pointy-faced woman on the screen. The family resemblance was unmistakable, both physically and in the attitude.
“Shut up!”
Well, maybe not. Something impatient and sinister lurked beneath the cold blue eyes flashing at them from the telecommunicator. Something Mark never sensed in Maia.
“Why didn’t you just kill me, Margaret? Why leave me alive with a fake memory? Why not let me die with my son?” Maia baited her sister, but her eyes glistened as she spoke the words.
“Because you deserved to live and suffer. Jeffrey wanted to kill you outright. He thought we had. But I couldn’t bear to miss an opportunity to let you live the life I’ve lived, to lose something you love more than anything in the world.”
Maia’s mouth dropped open. “You did all this because of Chance Durand? That squirrelly fucker? We were fifteen!”
Margaret’s face contorted into a mask of hate and pain.
“He was mine, Maia. You had no right to him. He wanted me until he met you!” she shrieked, slamming her fists so hard, the telecam shook and the picture blurred.
Man, Mark was glad this dementia shit didn’t run in the family. Margaret’s psychosis put Nero to shame. He didn’t want Maia’s and his kids growing up around—
Maia’s and his kids? Where did that come from?
“You crazy bitch,” Maia popped back. “I told him to get lost. I didn’t want him, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. He was pure sleaze.”
Margaret went into hysterics. “He loved me, and you wooed him away. Wooed him to commit suicide over you.”
“Bullshit, Margaret. He fell into a pilox generator because he was a dumbass, not because he tried to commit suicide.”
Margaret swiped at her tears with the back of her elegant hand, her long, red nails contrasting sharply with her pale skin. “I’m done with you,” she sniffed, and tapped a communicator on her blouse. “Take them to the dump!”
The aircraft lurched, sending Mark and Maia both flying backwards. A blue light beamed through the windshield, and he rolled on top of her as quickly as possible, waiting for the force field to bind them.
The ray paralyzed them, making any movement impossible. They lay frozen for only a few moments before the beam released and the aircraft bounced roughly on the ground, jarring Mark’s bones as he tried to keep himself from crushing Maia. She coughed when he finally fell away as the aircraft rolled on its top.
The crunching began. A huge crusher bit through the front of the aircraft, obliterating it and driving them both to the back. He yanked her roughly under him as the crusher descended again, barely missing them. He tumbled with her as the machine toppled them, finally managing to secure her on top of him, both facing upward.
Maia’s hair covered his face, its flowery scent reminding him of the Camp. They’d survive this and go back there together, make a life. Have children. Enjoy each new day. Of course, just one more obstacle stood in their way.
Chapter Seventeen
Maia screamed as the crusher came down again, turning her face away and expecting her cheekbones to splinter. Anguish at the idea of Mark dying this way, mixed with pure fury they’d die horny. Aphrodite, indeed.
The large death machine stopped inches from her face and she let out a whoosh of air, relief a brief respite. When she opened her eyes and glanced down her body, two human legs bulging through tattered black tux pants, strain evident in their muscles, held the giant crusher in place, refusing to let it descend.
The legs belonged to Mark.
“If you want me to finish what we started, baby, do exactly as I say,” he ground out into her ear.
Now, there was an incentive.
“I’m going to push up with my legs, and when I do, you roll out the back end, got it?”
“You’re coming with me, right? Don’t be a fucking Greek hero!” She felt a sudden pang of panic.
“Nothing is going to keep us apart,” he gasped, the wreckage creaking. “We’ve gotta go, Maia. Ready?”
He pushed and she threw her body forward, tumbling out of the remains of the aircraft and hitting the ground with a thud. She lunged to her feet, ready to pull him out if necessary, but he executed a flip and landed on the ground beside her. Free, the hammer smashed what was left of the aircraft to bits.
The skin on Mark’s legs unfurled, revealing the same metallic legs as Dix and Selena. He hovered over Maia, standing tall and magnificent, his handsome visage a study in hope. His amber eyes glimmered in the moonlight, the shredded tux enshrouding him—a god among men. An epic hero walking the earth for two thousand years until one day, he comes across a woman he can’t resist.
Well, he’d better not be
able to resist her. And she and Aphrodite were going to have a little talk when this all got squared away, woman to woman like. The bitch had a thing or two to learn about love.
Mark waited, still as a post.
“What happened?” Maia said, though she didn’t really care. She wanted him no matter what body parts weren’t original, but it seemed important to him to talk about it.
“After I received the cure, I figured I’d die within my first tour in Iraq III if I played my cards right. I ended up in Chico Orlando’s unit. I jumped his case for smacking around a little boy, and the next day my legs got blown off by an IED. He let me know in no uncertain terms that he’d lied about sweeping the area.”
Maia tried so hard, she really did, because Mark’s intensity truly touched her. Holding back, she snickered. His eyebrows shot up and she clamped her hand over her mouth, mortified. The longer she watched him, though, the more difficult it became to hold it in. She snorted, chuckled, and snickered again.
His eyes narrowed. He looked like he wanted to hit her, and she didn’t blame him. She’d want to hit her, too, if the situation were reversed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re fucking kidding me, right? You don’t see the irony here? You get cured of immortality and end up surviving a horrific injury that would have killed most soldiers, and you were really trying to die. You put a lot of effort into it. Kinda seems like you fell short somehow. I mean –” Maia knew she was babbling, but she’d lost control.
After a long pause: “You are the craziest woman I’ve ever met, Maia Weston,” Mark said in a low sexy, voice. He closed the distance between them in three steps. It would have taken any other man six or seven, but he wasn’t just any other man. He was hers, all hers.
He tucked her into his arms, his tongue playing over her lips, tasting her.
“You promised we’d finish what we started,” Maia pointed out.
“I did indeed, but someone might see us out here.”