Captured Rapture: 3 (Mercy)

by Lexxie Couper

  Behind me, Torr’s soft snores continued. I resisted the urge to turn around—just. I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t stay here with him, and if I looked at him again I knew exactly what I would do. Sprint back to the pallet, climb onto its luxurious furs and kiss awake the man I never wanted to leave so we could continue our explorations of each other’s bodies and begin adding to our orgasm total with climax number eleven.

  Shyte, I had to get out of there.

  My throat grew tight and, just as I was about to throw up my hands in frustration, I saw my clothes—non-regulation combat pants, battle boots and heavy rubber vest—folded and stacked neatly on a low bench to my right. I scurried across the short distance and snatched them up, tucking them under my arm before searching for my partner’s favorite blade.

  Time pressed down upon me. If I didn’t get out of there soon, Torr would wake and then who knows what would happen.

  You know. It’s why you’re wasting time looking for Fraz’s knife. You want Torr to wake and find you. You want to stay with him.

  I bit back a sharp sigh. Fraz would have to get himself a new blade. I couldn’t risk it. I was a chicken-shit coward, I know, but I couldn’t deal with it all. Torr, his revelations, my destiny…shyte. My species. It was too much and I had to get away. I had to clear my head and digest the insanity of the last few hours, and I couldn’t do that while in Torr’s presence.

  I scurried back across the room, hoping the narrow niche in the far wall was the way out.

  Beyond the recess was a long passageway through the rock, a muted light at the end painting the walls a faded red.

  My heart skipped a beat and I ground my teeth, staring at that light. It was the light of the moon’s surface. All I had to do was run through the passageway, activate my jet cycle’s return-to-me system via the trigger I’d planted in the sole of my boot, climb astride and I was away.

  Fifty yards and I was gone.

  Finally, I turned and looked at Torr. Ran my gaze over his sleeping form. Burned the memory of his image into my mind, my soul.

  Mine to claim. Mine to fuck. Mine to—

  I didn’t want to know how that thought finished. It was too daunting. Too scary. I spun on my heel and fled down the passageway.

  The first cowardly act of my life.

  And despite spending the entire twenty minutes flinging across the moon’s surface on my jet cycle, and the entire thirty-minute return flight to Port Mercy in the shuttle telling myself I’d done the right thing, I still felt as if I’d just ripped my own heart from my chest.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  * * * * *

  “Where the fuck have you been?”

  I jumped at Fraz’s furious yell, banging the back of my head on the shower spout with enough force that black stars filled my vision. Shyte, that hurt.

  Slamming my hand against the water flow regulator, I turned, glaring at my partner as I stepped—dripping wet and entirely too naked—from the shower cubicle. “Fucking.” I snatched up a towel, wrapped it around my torso and pushed past him, grabbing my clothes as I did so. Fifteen minutes standing under icy cold water, staring at the gray metal wall, had done nothing to destroy the churning ache in my stomach and chest. Fifteen minutes spent trying to forget a man I knew I never could. Fifteen minutes trying to ignore the last word of a thought forever branded in my soul.

  Mine to claim. Mine to fuck. Mine to—

  “Well, while you were getting laid,” Fraz followed me from the tiny bathroom into our apartment, “I was doing some GU work.”

  I paused halfway through shoving one damp leg into my combat trousers and gave him a sharp look over my wet shoulder. “You found our perp?”

  Fraz smiled, and if my mind weren’t so preoccupied with a certain bloody dragon shifter, I would have flinched. Whatever my partner had been up to while I was screwing around—both literally and psychologically—he was proud of it.

  “Found him.” He nodded, his slitted eyes glinting with malicious glee. “And if you hurry the fuck up and get dressed, we can nail him.”

  I yanked my trousers up and pulled on my vest. My heart started slamming in my chest. This was what I needed. Something to keep my stupid, preoccupied mind off Torr. “Details,” I barked, grabbing my gutting blade from the end of my bunk and sliding it into its sheath at the base of my spine. It was the only one I had left after leaving the rest of my bladed arsenal—as well as Fraz’s favorite blade—back on Torr’s moon. As soon as we had the spice dealer locked up, I’d have to go on a shopping spree.

  Fraz smirked, a wholly unnerving expression from someone with such a nasty face. “Spied him in Steam last night. Just before that walking mountain Jareth chucked him out. I followed him until he stopped at the BDSM joint next to the gym.” Fraz’s smirk stretched wider, showing a frightening number of needle-sharp teeth. “It seems our spice dealer’s got a taste for highly illegal Slessorian anal probes.”

  I frowned, scraping my wet hair into a rather messy knot at the back of my head. “And?”

  Fraz chuckled, throwing one of my boots at me. “And Your Pain Is My Pleasure is currently out of stock of highly illegal Slessorian anal probes.”

  My own smirk pulled at my lips. “Let me guess? You just happened to know where to get your hands on some and offered to supply him.” I pushed my left foot into my boot and caught the right as Fraz tossed it to me. “Aren’t you a considerate little Bo’aa.”

  Fraz winked. “Just sticking to my species’ stereotype. We are known for our sexual depravity, y’know.”

  I snorted, stomping both feet until my boots snugged them perfectly. “Never thought I’d be pleased by that fact until now.”

  “Ha.” Fraz turned and walked to the door, grinning at me over his shoulder. “I know you want some.”

  “Every second of every day, partner,” I told him with a grin, pulling my spare molecular disruptor from my locker before following him to the door. My heart thumped. Action. Just what I needed. If I was lucky, the drug pusher would try something stupid and I’d get to beat the shit out of him. What better way to clear my head?

  It took me a few seconds to realize Fraz stood by the open door, studying me. “What?”

  He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrow. “Are you okay?”

  The New Earth term sounded awkward coming from his lipless mouth, but that wasn’t what made me want to fidget. In a weird sort of way, Fraz was the closest thing I had to family. Sure, not a particularly loving family member, but hey, at least he was always there. He’d been my partner since the academy and looked out for me even when I didn’t want him to—but I’d never once heard him sound worried for me. It was uncharacteristic, and it made me angry. And reminded me with a big mental slap just how brilliantly I’d failed putting Torr behind me. So much for leaving it all on the moon. “I’m fine,” I snapped, pushing past Fraz. “Let’s get to work.”

  Fraz didn’t look convinced but he let the topic drop. We strode through the spaceport, heading for the rendezvous point he’d arranged with our perp. The plan was simple—Fraz would offer the anal probe for a ludicrous fee. Our drug dealer would no doubt balk at his asking price. Fraz would call the deal off, and just as he turned away from the perp, I would appear, bitching to my “salvage partner” that he’d finished off the last of our spice. Trap set.

  The second the dealer offered to pay for the Slessorian anal probe with a trade of product, bam, we had him. Yes, it was entrapment, but the days of following the GU Enforcer codebook had long gone. When it came to scum like this bastard, there was no code. Whatever it took, that’s what we did. No matter how unsavory, dubious or ethically questionable. It was why Fraz and I had been assigned to the case in the first place. We did what was necessary and our commander looked the other way until the job was done.

  Wrong? Maybe.

  Effective? Always.

  By the time we’d crossed the spaceport to an isolated and unused wing on level eight, Fraz had put his game face o
n. I wondered for a brief moment if that face wasn’t just a touch too criminally malicious, before dropping back behind him to take up my position in the shadows of the closest service corridor. It was the perfect location for a takedown, one we’d scouted out day one after arriving on the port. The spice dealer wouldn’t be able to see me until I came bursting onto the scene, pissed off and showing all the signs of spice withdrawal.

  Fraz continued down the passageway until he reached the viewing wall. The massive expanse of unbreakable tempered glass presented a glorious view of the star-studded space surrounding Port Mercy. It also made for a very safe backdrop for the “exchange”. With no entry ports, vents or internal systems, there was no way someone could take Fraz by surprise from behind. Taking the perp by surprise from behind would be my job.

  I watched my partner lean against the glass and cross his ankles, his hands shoved into the deep pockets of his trousers. He really was quite scary to look at, but for some reason, something about the way he stood made my gut itched.

  Something felt…

  “Why the fuck did you pick this place,” a surly voice griped, and I pressed myself hard to the wall behind me, keeping my hand on the butt of my disruptor.

  Our spice dealer stormed past me, heading for Fraz. I studied his back, noting the plated armor jacket he wore. Obviously, being a lowlife criminal git meant he was paranoid about getting stabbed in the back. I grinned, looking forward to proving that paranoia correct.

  Fraz grinned as well, doing his best to look apologetic. “I like the view,” I heard him answer. He shifted his position slightly, adjusting his hands in his pockets. I knew he was adjusting his grip on his small but ridiculously lethal de-atomizer pistol, but what would our perp think?

  “Big fuckin’ view of nothing,” grumbled our crook with the anal probe fetish.

  I couldn’t see his face, but something about his voice made my gut itch again. I ground my teeth. Damn it. Something just felt…

  “You got the device?”

  I cocked an eyebrow, forcing my focus on the dealer’s back. Device? Now that was one name for a probe I’d never heard before.

  Fraz pulled his left hand out of his pocket, holding up a long, thin object wrapped in soft black syntho-silk. “Right here.”

  The perp’s spine stiffened, and I slid my fingers around the grip of my disruptor. “Lemme see it.”

  “Uh-uh.” Fraz shook his head. “Gotta pay before you play.”

  I saw the perp’s wide shoulders bunch and his right hand moved to his right hip, his left hand a balled fist by his side. “Shoulda known this was gonna be a pain in the ass. You damn Bo’aas are all the same.”

  Fraz’s eyes narrowed to slits and I held my breath. This could go pear-shaped real quickly. “The only pain in the ass,” Fraz stated, jiggling the long, black parcel in his grip, “will be yours when you cough up the credits.”

  I gritted my teeth. You had to give it to Fraz—he had a certain charm.

  The perp’s hand moved closer to his hip, and I slowly slid my disruptor from its holster. “Fuckin’ Bo’aas,” I heard him mutter before his hand dipped into a concealed pocket.

  I targeted my weapon directly on the back of his neck, right above the edge of his armored jacket. If he pulled a gun, his head was going bye-bye.

  He withdrew his hand, and I let out a silent breath. A credit chip. Shiny one. “How much?”

  Fraz snorted, folding his arms across his wide chest, his orange scales shimmering with a contemptuous red sheen. “Two things, my good buddy. This isn’t Level Seven, credit chip’s not going to cut it. And the price is eight seventy-five.”

  The perp’s hand froze. In fact, his whole body seemed to suddenly snap into a statue. A fat-assed, scum-bastard statue. “You’re kidding?”

  Fraz shook his head. “You want ultimate ass pleasure, you pay ultimate credit.” He uncrossed his ankles and leaned forward just a tad, as if sharing a secret. “You do know the thing’s illegal, don’t you?”

  Our spice dealer snarled. But he didn’t move and I couldn’t help but smile. He wanted his anal probe bad. Time to reel him in.

  Fraz shook his head again and pushed himself from the viewing wall, sliding the syntho-silk-wrapped object back into his trousers. “Too slow, my good buddy. You don’t want it, someone else surely will.” He gave the perp a lipless smirk. “Especially one of this quality.”

  That was my cue. I shoved my disruptor into its hidden holster and stormed forward, making my breath shallow and rapid as I did so. I smacked into the dealer’s shoulder, bounced off him a little, feigning complete ignorance of his existence as I locked my wide, wild-eyed stare on my partner. “You fucking selfish prick!” I yelled, punching him square in the chest with my palms. “You fucking used the last of the spice!”

  “Shyte, you dumb cunt,” Fraz snarled, shooting the dealer a harried look. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

  I flung the perp an indifferent glance over my shoulder, hoping my eyes portrayed desperate insanity. The scary thing was, I knew they did. I was drawing the wild emotion from a place deep in my soul that I suspected would rule me for the rest of my life. I was an addict, but spice wasn’t my hit.

  I turned back to Fraz, slapping my hands against his chest again, a dark part of me knowing my aggression was born from bleak frustration. Damn you, Torr. “That was our last stash, you dick,” I whined. “I needed it. I need—”

  Fraz struck me. Hard. With the back of his hand. Right on my cheekbone.

  I saw stars and fell to my knees, the coppery taste of blood sliding over my tongue.

  “I said, shut the fuck up.”

  “Hey!” the perp burst out, and I hid my smile in my trembling hand.

  We had him. Hook, line and—

  “I know you!” His voice rose an octave and from the corner of my eye, I saw his feet scramble back a step.

  My heart slammed into my throat and I bit back a hiss. Not good. Not good. Shyte, this was not good.

  “You’re the cunt Enforcer who took out Eop’s child slavery ri—”

  Four things happened simultaneously.

  The memory of the Mendovian’s violent arrest smashed through my head.

  Fraz pulled his de-atomizer.

  I leapt to my feet.

  And the perp pulled a de-atomizer from who knows where.

  Then everything did, as I feared, go pear-shaped.

  The dealer shot Fraz. Just like that. In the space of half a heartbeat, the bastard shot Fraz. In the chest? The throat? The shoulder? I couldn’t tell. The stench of ozone burned my sinuses and a split second later, I saw my partner fall, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

  I yanked my disruptor from its holster and spun to face the perp, leveling my weapon slap-damn in the middle of his greasy forehead. “Drop it,” I snarled.

  The spice dealer’s de-atomizer locked on my face and he grinned at me, yellow teeth glistening with saliva. “Not a chance, cunt.”

  My aim on his forehead didn’t waver. I could hear something raspy at my feet and when I sucked in a quick breath, the coppery stench of blood filled my nose. Fraz’s blood. Fuck.

  Fury rolled through me. Thick, black fury that felt like flames of incinerating heat. Fraz was the closest thing I had to family and this scum-bastard criminal had just shot him. I was going to make him hurt. “You’ve got two choices, dickhead. Drop the de-atomizer, or keep it aimed at me and find out what it’s like to have that ugly-as-shit face of yours explode in a puff of disintegrated matter.”

  The perp laughed, the sound snide and way too confident for my liking. I wanted to shoot Fraz a quick look but I didn’t dare. The spice dealer with the anal sex fetish would squeeze his trigger the second I broke eye contact, and there was no way I wanted to die.

  Not when I’d only just begun to live.

  Mine to claim.

  The disconnected thought whispered in the depths of my mind and I gritted my teeth. When this was all done and over with, I was having a lon
g conversation with Torr about staying out of my head. I may be his destiny, but—

  I swallowed, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. I was staring down the barrel of a highly lethal, highly illegal weapon, wielded by a criminal with a highly violent track record, my partner shot and most likely dying at my feet, our arrest gone to hell in a friggin’ handbasket, and I was thinking of my lunatic man in the moon?

  You’re not just talking to Torr when this is done, y’know that, don’t you?

  I bit back a sigh. No, when this was done, I wasn’t just talking to Torr. I was throwing him on the nearest bed/bench/rock and making love to him like there was no tomorrow.

  Mine to claim. Mine to fuck. Mine to—

  “Throw away your weapon, cunt,” the perp snarled, his eyes a crazy mix of glee and rage. “Or I’ll shoot you in the mouth and fuck your dying body as your brains dribble out of your head.”

  “Try it.” Oh yeah. This bastard deserved to die. I was going to kill him. In exactly five seconds.

  Five, four, three, two—

  “Shoot me and we all die, cunt.” He jerked up his left hand. My stare snapped to what he held and my stomach dropped. Ah fuck. No wonder his eyes were crazy.

  A tiny red glow on the small metal ball he gripped told me the neuron detonator was active. With a simple release of pressure, he’d turn every living being within a two-mile radius into a brain-dead vegetable. Pretty much everyone on Port Mercy. He gave me another one of those snide, smug laughs. “You don’t think I was suspicious about the Bo’aa?”

  He stepped closer to me, detonator held out as if it were the most wonderful present I could ever hope to receive. I stood my ground and glared at him. I had nowhere to go. Behind me was the viewing wall.

  “No one trusts a Bo’aa unless they’re stupid,” he spat.

  Another wave of black fury rolled through me. A wall of heat hotter than a furnace. The tips of my fingers tingled, as if I’d plunged them into an open flame. “Stupid?” I cocked an eyebrow at him, not even remotely trying to hide my contempt. “Who’s holding the neuron detonator, dipshit?”