by Kit Rocha
Dallas didn't know about that, but they were sure as hell at the center of everyone's attention, and he'd bet his next batch of corn liquor that no one was staring at him, not with Lex sultry and deadly at his side. The leather pants were hot, and so were the heels that brought the top of her head level with Dallas's eyes. But everyone gaped the first time they saw that corset, a masterwork of stamped leather and shining rivets. The fastenings began beneath her breasts, which were on glorious fucking display behind nothing but crisscrossing ties.
Someday, he was going to pull a knife and slice through those taunting laces. Maybe tonight, as a reward for getting through this without pulling a knife for a different reason.
Cerys crossed the floor, her feet silent and her lavender robes flowing behind her. The tall brunette was still stunning, her pale skin showing only the vaguest hint of lines, and a fierce intelligence sparked in her amber-colored eyes, as sharp as the calculating smile that curved her lips.
She stopped in front of Dallas and bowed slightly. "Welcome, Mr. O'Kane."
"Cerys." He inclined his head--as close as he was planning to come to bowing to any of these people--before tilting it in Lex's direction. "You remember Lex, I guess."
"Of course." Her gaze lingered on Lex's throat as she held out her hand. "Alexa."
She ignored the proffered hand. "You heard the man. It's Lex."
"Lex," Cerys corrected, her smile widening. "Yes."
Dallas knew what held the woman's attention. The fancy collar, the one he'd set Stuart's sister to work on the morning after Noelle's welcome party. Not a subtle symbol, dripping as it was with rubies and diamonds he'd pried out of a dozen pre-Flare trinkets. It was a statement of wealth as much as ownership, and Cerys was unlikely to miss any of it.
Dallas laid his hand on the small of Lex's back and tried to smile without baring his teeth. "Lex has settled into being my better half. Isn't that right, love?"
Lex focused on his mouth, a tiny, secret smile playing at the corners of her lips. "That's right."
He wanted to kiss the hell out of her. He could probably get away with it, too--no one expected him to be polite--but something about the glint in Cerys's gaze made him hold back. Instead, he smoothed his hand to Lex's hip, splaying his fingers wide in a grip no one would mistake for anything but possessive. "Seems like most everyone's here already. No stragglers this time?"
"Everyone arrived promptly." Cerys gestured behind her to the long table set for dinner. "No business, as usual. There's plenty of time for that. Tonight, we enjoy ourselves."
"Always do." Spotting a familiar figure leaning against a marble column, Dallas nodded again. "Mind if I go say hello to your neighbor?"
"You're a guest," Cerys murmured. "You do as you please." With that, she turned her attention elsewhere.
"Dismissed," Lex teased quietly. "She has that way about her, doesn't she?"
Dallas snorted and guided Lex past a young girl holding a tray of drinks. She was wearing a simple, gauzy gown that floated around her like a hazy promise, one that drew men's gazes as she passed. That was Sector Two in a nutshell--hazy promise. Never overt, never blunt, but always seething just under the surface of everything, from the decorations to the girls serving punch and champagne.
The man by the column was the only one who seemed oblivious to that promise. Gideon and Mad might have been cousins, but they didn't look much alike. They both had that same relaxed smile, though, the one that made Mad so easy to trust. Dallas had seen wary men and women alike give way to Mad when he flashed that charming grin, and usually he appreciated its effectiveness.
Not so much when it was directed at Lex, though. "Gideon. Quit ogling my woman."
Gideon ignored him completely and kept grinning at Lex. "It's nice to see you, sweetheart. I imagine things will run a lot more smoothly with you around."
"I know my way around Cerys's games." But the sharp look she flashed him belied the tranquil words and triggered a warning instinct in Dallas. She'd gone tense against his side, and there was no reason the leader of Sector One should present a threat to Lex.
Even more unsettling, Gideon seemed to have no trouble interpreting the sudden tension. He sighed, and if Dallas hadn't known better, he'd swear the man looked disappointed. "Still, Lex?" Gideon asked softly. "Even with his collar around your throat?"
She leaned in and kissed the man's cheek. "You talk too much."
"And still manage to avoid the things that truly need saying." Gideon finally turned to acknowledge Dallas. "You're a lucky man, O'Kane. Congratulations."
After a strained moment, Dallas let the odd comments slide. Demanding an explanation would only underscore his ignorance--a weakness he couldn't afford tonight. "Luckier every day, it seems. It's invigorating to have a lady who can keep you on your toes."
She made a soothing noise, but a moment later a booming voice drowned it out. "O'Kane."
Dallas turned to see Mac Fleming bearing down on them, his tailored suit a stark contrast to Gideon's denim and homespun and Dallas's own leather. The man who ran Five moved more illegal drugs than anyone else in a thousand miles, but he liked to play legitimate businessman almost as much as Cerys liked to play well-bred lady.
The games were exhausting, but Dallas knew his own role: thug. Hopefully one they underestimated. "Fleming. Been a while."
"Not nearly long enough, judging from your tone." The man straightened his cuffs. "Introduce me to your lady."
Dallas would eat his own boots if there was anyone in the room who didn't know who Lex was, just like he knew Mac had a long-suffering wife pregnant with her seventh or eighth kid--Mac's way of flaunting his access to the fertility drugs that counteracted the birth control Eden fed into every available water supply. Dallas had met her twice in ten years. Mac was far more likely to show up with a sleepy-eyed mistress on his arm, some pretty, barely grown girl willing to trade her body for a high.
Drawing Lex back to his side, Dallas bared his teeth. "Lex, this is Mac Fleming, head of Sector Five."
Lex offered her hand. "How do you do?"
He smirked at the equally smarmy bodyguard lurking behind him. "Manners, and from Sector Four, no less." Then Fleming stopped short and lifted a hand. "Though you were raised here, yes?"
"Yes." Lex smiled, sweet but somehow icy. "I was Cerys's best pupil, but only in certain subjects. Oral sex and improvised weaponry, for example, though rarely in conjunction."
Dallas damn near choked on his own spit. Fleming's bodyguard spluttered, though Mac only sighed and shook his head. "And there's your rough influence, O'Kane."
Grinning, Dallas smoothed a proprietary hand over Lex's hair. "What can I say. We like our women only mostly tamed. Where's the fun in a woman who'd never stab you just a little, if you pissed her off bad enough?"
"You like to live more dangerously than I do."
Dallas patted her hip. "No danger. You wouldn't stab me anywhere important, would you, love?"
Before she could answer, a melodious chime rang through the hall. The call to dinner, and whatever entertainment Cerys had devised. It was guaranteed to be illicit--Sector Two took cultured debauchery to heights unimagined even by most of the O'Kanes. For once, Dallas wasn't relieved to be spared more conversation. Watching Lex sharpen her tongue on bastards like Mac Fleming revved him harder than anything Cerys could have planned.
Fleming and his bodyguard drifted toward the long table, but Dallas slid his hand around Lex's abdomen to hold her back. He splayed his fingers wide over the skin bared by her corset--the skin marked with his name--and lowered his mouth to her ear. "I should have brought you with me years ago."
She dug her nails into the back of his wrist. "I'm here now."
Two steps to the left and he had her up against one of those ridiculous columns. It seemed a lot less ridiculous when he had Lex pinned to it, her hands trapped under his, her leather-clad ass rubbing against his cock. He found her ear again and bit it roughly enough to draw a moan from her. "If
you were wearing a skirt, I'd be in you already. I'd fuck you right here, while they sat down to dinner."
She wiggled and moaned again when he held tight. "Why? To show them what a big man you are?"
"No." He swept her hair aside and bit the back of her neck this time, setting a mark in her smooth skin. He'd have Ace do it for real someday--that much he'd already promised himself. For now, he used his teeth before licking the ravaged spot. "Because watching you wield a verbal knife gets me hot. Slice up that jackass from Seven over dinner, and I'll make it worth your trouble tonight."
"You're gonna do that anyway."
He knew Lex. He'd paid attention to all those trysts he'd pretended not to notice, had filed away the pleasures Lex pursued again and again. He knew how to stir fantasy to life. "Maybe I'll invite Bren or Mad to help me. Maybe both."
Lex shuddered. "You're a dirty tease, Declan."
"Only I get to fuck you." He tugged at her hair, arching her head back until she had to meet his eyes. "But they're creative. They'll think of a dozen ways each to get you off."
Her eyes fluttered shut, and she snapped them open again. "And you, telling them what to do, every step of the way."
He kissed her, hard and abrupt, a promise more than anything else. Her lips tasted too good for him to linger, or he really would decide fucking her was better than gritting his teeth through awkward dinner chatter. He stepped back and smoothed her hair back into place. "I am the king, darling."
Her gaze raked over him, head to toe. Her breathing was just short of steady, and a delicate flush colored the skin above her corset. "I hope that means you can fake dinner conversation with my hand around your cock. You deserve the distraction."
He almost thought she was joking, but he shouldn't have. They'd only been seated for a few minutes when Lex landed her first verbal blow on Sector Seven, undercutting Colby's crudely leering greeting with cool ease. The lights dimmed before the man could recover, and a dozen of Cerys's girls glided into view, draped in transparent scarves and enough sparkling jewels to impress men used to pretty things.
Dallas appreciated the beauty of woman debauching each other, but Cerys's little show always lacked heat, honesty. The girls were pretty, no doubt, and flexible in ways some of the dancers at the Broken Circle would envy. But there was an emptiness to their movements, almost an innocence, if you could call a woman innocent as she was spread wide and stroked by a half-dozen hands before being flogged to supposed ecstasy.
For all their artful moans and graceful thrashing, Dallas couldn't see past the choreography. The other men never seemed to notice, but they weren't used to watching Lex and Noelle crawl all over each other, their tongue-tangling kisses hot because they weren't really meant for anyone else. Even on a stage, with a crowded bar of men riveted to her every move, Lex never let anyone forget she owned her own pleasure, and anyone who got to see it should count himself lucky.
So should any man seeking to tame her. As a second girl submitted to a whipping that turned her ass pink, Lex's hand settled in Dallas's lap. The theatrics planned by Cerys had done little enough to stir his blood, but Lex got it raging with a few clever strokes. If she'd started teasing him already, she no doubt meant to drive him crazy by the time dinner ended and they returned to their rooms.
When this was over, he'd have time to teach her the truth. He was always crazy when it came to her.
Chapter Eight
Their guest suite had been modeled after a nineteenth-century Parisian brothel, complete with wide, velvet-covered chaises, elaborate crown moldings, and gilt-edged wallpaper. Everything was decorated in shades of red and gold, opulent in a heavy, desperate sort of way, and Lex hated it on sight.
Cerys had chosen it purposefully, of that much she was sure. The woman never did anything by accident, but always by design. This room, with its low lighting and furnishings that looked cheap no matter their extravagant expense, was meant to remind Lex of her origins. Of her place.
No matter how far she ran, it said, she would always be a whore.
Mad was sitting on one of the sofas, smoking. Lex dropped beside him, kicked off her shoes, and plucked the cigarette from his hand. "I hope you had a better evening than we did."
"Hard to tell, sometimes, with Bren." Once she'd taken a puff, Mad rescued the cigarette and took a long drag. "Sometimes I think he's ready to blow a vein, and it turns out he's having the time of his life."
Bren glowered at them from the bar across the room. "This is my relaxed face."
Lex laughed. "Mad's right. It looks just like your I'm about to rip a bastard's spine out through his ears face."
"And all of his faces are a little busted." Mad tossed the rakish fall of hair from his eyes and grinned at Lex. "He wishes he was pretty like me."
"Mmm." She ran her thumb over his lower lip. "And you wish you were pretty like Dallas."
Mad bit the pad of her thumb and caught her wrist. "Where is our fearless leader?"
"On his way." She did her best to look innocent as she tilted her head. "The guy from Eight won't talk in front of simple-minded females like me, you know."
"Lucky you. He's more boring than God and all the angels." Mad dropped her hand back into her lap with a wink. "Speaking of higher powers, you keep your pretty little hands to yourself. I'll cuddle you all night long, but this--" his finger brushed her collar, "--means I'll answer to one vengeful motherfucker if I get too friendly."
"You could help me blow him." The mental images were more reminiscence than imagination. "Wouldn't be the first time you'd licked my tongue and his cock."
"Sweet words won't change my mind," Mad informed her with mock severity, but she could see the heat of memory in his gaze, as well. He'd always taken pleasure as freely as he gave it, and the more warm bodies around him, the better.
"Too bad." She shifted on the couch until she was leaning against the opposite arm with her feet in Mad's lap. "I think Dallas is feeling a little wild tonight. But if you don't want to play..."
Rolling his eyes, he dropped his hands to her feet. He was clever with his fingers and knew how to push his thumbs right where her foot ached from her shoes. "Don't be dense, lovely. If Dallas is feeling frisky, even Bren and his busted face will jump in the pile with you."
Bren grunted before draining his drink. "You're sure as hell not getting any of this, though," he told Mad.
Mad winked at Lex. "We'll see, won't we?"
Spoken as if he had no doubt Bren would fuck him, given half a chance. Then again, few people in the world had proven immune to Mad's charms. "You're terrible," Lex proclaimed. "And delicious."
"We're all--" The door crashed open hard enough to make him jump, and he jerked his hands away from Lex's feet as if he'd been caught with them down her pants.
Dallas was too furious to notice. He slammed the door shut behind him and kicked it for good measure, his face carved in forbidding lines. "I hate these motherfuckers."
Whatever the bastard from Sector Eight had said to Dallas, it hadn't made him happy. Lex made a soothing noise and beckoned him. "Time to hide from them for a while."
Mad abandoned the sofa to make room for Dallas, who dropped to the plush cushions with a groan. "That's how I kept from wringing his damn neck. I thought about how disappointed you'd be if we had to waste the night shooting our way across two sectors to get home."
"What the hell did he say?" she asked.
Dallas snagged her with one arm and hauled her into his lap so she was straddling his thighs, her face level with his. Still scowling, he traced his thumb along her jaw. "He was impressed with how neatly you cut Colby's knees out from under him. He wants to buy a girl from Cerys and have me train her up like I did you."
A notion almost as laughable as it was horrible. "Someone doesn't understand how the concept works, hmm? A woman who'll speak her mind?"
"Like he could handle one." Dallas let his head thump back against the sofa and grinned up at her. "Besides, there's only one Lex."
"Worse. I told him Cerys sent you to me just the way you are." He stroked her throat and the soft lace edging her collar. "I hope she sends him a clever little spy who jerks his territory out from under him. I don't care if it makes her stronger."
Bren couldn't let that stand. "You can't afford not to care," he told Dallas firmly. "Cerys is ruthless."
"Fine, I don't care tonight," Dallas amended. "He's already got it in his head to take one of Cerys's girls, and I was too fucking pissed to talk him out of it."
Lex nuzzled his cheek. "Don't listen to Bren. You need to relax for a while, or you'll drive yourself nuts."
"Mmm." His hands fell to her hips, edging her closer. "You gonna help me relax?"
No matter what he'd promised before dinner, he couldn't mean to include Mad and Bren--especially since at least one of them had to pull first watch. Still, just knowing the other men could hear the gentle command was its own measure of arousal. Her skin prickled, and her nipples tightened. "Is that an order?"
He kept one hand on her hip and caught her chin with the other, his thumb coming to rest against her lips. "All night, all those bastards' eyes on you. They wish they owned you, even Cerys. But they don't, do they?"
She couldn't move her mouth under the bruising pressure of his thumb, so she shook her head.
"That's right. You're an O'Kane." He eased his thumb down, forcing her lips apart. "And you had your hand on my dick half the night. Get on your knees and finish what you started."
The urge to obey trembled through her. She wanted him in her mouth, but not as much as she wanted to challenge him with a little bite. So she did it literally, closing her teeth sharply on his thumb.
He laughed and drove his other hand into her hair, twisting as he surged to his feet and spilled her to the floor. "Fine, Lexie. I'll get just as hard putting you there myself. Maybe harder."
He held tight to her hair, the delicious pressure skirting close to pain, and her hand brushed his erection as she reached for his belt buckle. "That's how I like it. Hard enough to be a little rough."