“Sorry, sir.”
“Well, Senthys? How much?”
He held his master's gaze, focusing on the centers of the solid black orbs. “A thousand, sir.”
“Good.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “I told Liu to take care of him.”
“Liu's one of yours?” They continued up the stairs.
“Mmm. You know your brother's master and I are old … friends.” His emphasis on the last word sent a chill up Senth's spine. “I want to help Khyffen. He'd be an exceptional asset to my face business.”
Saint-Cyr's private security company, For Women Only, offered premium protection services to celebrity female clientele. It was the “storefront” for his true business, theft.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You offered once to bargain for his freedom.” Saint-Cyr stopped and turned back. “Are you still open to that?”
Senth leaned forward. “Yes, sir! Whatever it takes.”
Saint-Cyr shook a finger at him. “What have I told you about being too eager?”
“Sorry, master.” He hung back. “You surprised me.”
“Bargains are always a surprise. Keep that in mind.”
“Master.” He lowered his head in respect.
“Senthys, you'll be free in two years. Khyffen still has eight. Suppose I were to guarantee his freedom in less than a week?”
Senth tried not to show his glee, but a smile pasted itself across his face anyway.
The Harbinger closed his solid black eyes, head shaking in a way that said, “What am I to do with you?”
“I'm sorry, sir! You've never lied to me. I trust your word.”
The dark-skinned man gazed down at him for a silent moment. He nodded, then set a hand on Senth's shoulder. “And well you should.”
“What do I have to do, sir, for Khyff's freedom?”
“The job we're meeting about tonight will bring in a fortune for us, but it holds extreme risk for you. I don't usually give you a choice, but this time I'm going to because of the job's importance. I'm also offering to buy Khyffen and free him. In return, I want a few promises.”
“You know I want this, sir. I'll do whatever it takes.”
The Harbinger's mouth lifted at one side. “Never admit that to anyone, either.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Senthys, you understand why I've kept you on Shackle?”
While Khyff's master had addicted him to Thrust, which put his sex drive into overload, Shackle did the opposite to Senth, plus it lowered his aggression. From puberty, he had never known life without it.
“Yes, master,” he answered swiftly. “I never want that to happen again.”
“Good.” The Harbinger tapped a knuckle against his mouth, frowning at him. “You know what they'd do to you if it did, don't you? Where they'd take you?”
“Yes, sir.” He stiffened. “I don't want that.”
“I didn't think so. After five days without Shackle you'll start withdrawal. Your heart will pound. Your head will feel like it's splitting apart. And for several days, you'll have a semi-permanent erection. You understand what that means?”
“Yes, master. I'd be as strung out and out of control as Khyff is on weekends.”
“Well put. There's a possibility of stroke if you quit cold. It's extremely dangerous. You must taper off the drug. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “I do, sir.”
“This job should take four days, so it's important that you return as soon as it's over.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I'll dose you before you leave, to ensure you have the full five day effect.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“The reason I've told you all this is because you'll be working side by side with a Better.”
Senth opened his mouth, then shut it again.
“Despite the romantic nonsense you've heard about Betters being extraordinary lovers, their kisses can poison you. If her saliva mixes with yours, she can control your mind. The touch of her hands will drive you insane. There are ancient myths about Sirens, women who used their voices to lure a man into paradise so they could slay him. Betters aren't myth. They're real. If she subjects you to her passion, you'll be at the mercy of her pleasure forever.”
Senth swallowed against the tight feeling in his throat, and nodded to let him know he understood.
“This woman is dangerous. I wouldn't normally let any of my people work with her kind, but in this case … let's just say I have my reasons. And I trust you to obey me. You bring in too much income for me to let you go off on a job where I seriously thought I'd lose you. Besides, if you let her seduce you and you came back to me as anything other than a virgin, the deal for Khyffen's freedom would be off.”
“How would you know I was still a virgin?” Senth covered his mouth the moment the words escaped, shocked at himself for even asking the question.
The Harbinger gave him a dry smile. “As long as you stay a virgin, that won't be a problem. If you had sex with her, I would know because her pheromones would addict you to her. If that happened…” He paused. “I would not be pleased with you.”
Senth reached a foot back, feeling for the next lower step.
His master's eyelids lowered and he angled his head toward him like a bird of prey sighting its next meal. “You know what happens when you displease me.”
He flinched when Saint-Cyr put both hands on his shoulders. He shook his head vehemently. “I wouldn't want to do that.”
“No, you wouldn't.” He leaned in until the dark, predatory eyes completely filled Senth's vision. “You want to obey me, Senthys. You fear me. You will not let me down. I need you, and I want Khyffen. You want to obey me. You know the rules I've set for you and you'll obey them. You want to obey me. You feel good when you comply. This job will be a success. Agree.”
“Yes, sir. This job will be a success.”
“Good.” The Harbinger stood up straight and smiled. “You want to please me, don't you, Senthys?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You want to obey me. You fear my wrath if you disobey.”
“Yes, sir! I would never disobey you, sir. I swear it.”
“Excellent.” He brushed aside Senth's hair from his brow. “Wake.”
Senth blinked, and looked behind him. How did I get halfway up the stairs?
“Remember, as long as you return in less than five days, losing control won't even be an option. Shackle will protect you from her.”
Senth raised a hand to his brow.
“Senthys? Are you all right?”
“Fine, master. Sorry.”
“Good. Come with me. It's time you met NarrAy Jorlan, your new partner.” A simple handsign—a fist with thumb down and then up—put Senth on guard.
Vigilant silence.
Chapter Two
The Ghost
Captain NarrAy Jorlan of the All People's Liberation Army leaned against the third-floor balcony railing, counting her blessings that she wasn't on the cramped dance floor below. She and Broxus, her human security escort, had worn appropriate party clothes to the Ghost, and she was starting to think her low-cut red gown might not have been the best choice.
Even the staid Lieutenant Broxus had gone googly-eyed when he'd seen her.
She resisted the urge to plug a finger into each ear. The noise level where she stood was merely painful rather than deafening. Her aide, Encie Falehla, moved around down there, lost among the heaving bodies. Encie liked this sort of place. Noisy, crammed with people. More like crammed with sweating males. What was it with Kin and the smell of sweat anyway?
Two Betters posed at the bar and surveyed the crowd. Her kind was visible from miles away. Perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect teeth, and perfect bodies. A perfectly lonely life. Everyone wanted the pheromone-induced lust a Better could provide. Few desired their addictive nature. And since the Better Laws were enacted, even fewer dared taste the exquisite pleasure.
Just down from the Betters, Encie
turned from the bar to flirt with someone in the crowd. As long as he wasn't a HalfKin, NarrAy didn't care. The last thing she needed was copbots poking into Encie's activities. Another disappearance around her aide would force NarrAy to cut her loose from employment.
The APLA might shelter thieves, ruffians, and even cold-blooded assassins, but not a suspected serial killer, no matter how innocent NarrAy insisted Encie was.
Turning from the railing, NarrAy moved back into the room where the Harbinger had agreed to meet. Broxus came to attention.
“Any word?” NarrAy asked.
He touched one ear, listening. “Not yet, ma'am.”
She noticed he refused to look directly at her. Oh, yes. The dress was definitely a mistake.
“Tell me about the Harbinger.”
He glanced toward her feet. “Didn't you meet him, ma'am?”
NarrAy rubbed her arms and shivered.
Broxus flipped open his note reader and tapped the screen. “I see you have. Luc Saint-Cyr's reputation is more chilling than his eyes. He's been tied to everything but prostitution and homicide, but never arrested. Ops thinks that's because no one speaks out against him. Folks around here talk about him like he's their father.”
She snorted a laugh. “I have a little trouble picturing him as the 'daddy' type.”
“From what we can tell, he looks out for his people. There's no crime in his territory. One thing's for sure…” Broxus turned off the note reader and tucked it into his pocket, “no one crosses him. Police can't get a snitch anywhere close.”
“And Senthys Antonello? Anything more on him?”
“No, ma'am. The name's known, but that's all. No arrests. No warrants. Rumors are he's young, but nobody talks. His Thieves' Guild ranking is Advanced Interior Security, Level Nineteen, which means he can break into government holding areas.”
“Exactly what we need.”
Head tilted, Broxus lifted two fingers to his ear. He nodded to NarrAy, then motioned with his fingers towards the door.
NarrAy turned, brushing a hand down the front of her dress. She held herself more erect. After two knocks, the door opened.
The Harbinger stepped inside, another person behind him.
“Ms. Jorlan,” Saint-Cyr said, with a slight bow.
She clenched her teeth behind her returned smile. Those whiteless eyes made it impossible to see if he was looking at her, or what part of her if he was.
“Mr. Saint-Cyr.” She interwove her fingers behind her waist. The customary handshake of greeting wasn't an option because the Better Laws forbade unnecessary touching.
“May I present my protégé, Senthys Antonello.” The Harbinger gestured to the dark-haired handsome youth with him. “Senthys, this is Ms. NarrAy Jorlan.”
“Ms. Jorlan.” Senth extended a hand. To his credit, he met her eyes, his gaze never straying.
NarrAy ignored his hand.
“My apologies, ma'am.” The Harbinger nudged Senth. “Betters don't touch others, Son.”
The boy glanced up at him with clear surprise. NarrAy had the impression he reacted to the title 'son' rather than the belated instruction.
“Yes, sir.” He ducked his head. “My apologies, ma'am. I didn't know.”
“Quite all right.” She motioned to Lieutenant Broxus. “Please show Mr. Saint-Cyr and his son to the door.”
Broxus did not hesitate. “This way, sir.”
“Ms. Jorlan?” The Harbinger's head turned from her to Broxus and then back. “Is something wrong?”
“I contracted with you for a professional, not a child.”
The exasperated grunt from Senth made her look at him.
“I am not a child!” He turned to the Harbinger. “Master, tell her my qualifications.”
“Senthys is more than qualified. As to his youth?” Saint-Cyr shrugged. “He has a baby face.”
NarrAy scrutinized the Harbinger. Had she just seen him obey an order? There's more to this boy than I thought.
“Believe me, Ms. Jorlan,” Senth said, “I can do whatever you contracted for. I'm no child.”
NarrAy made a slow perusal down his lean yet muscular frame. Huge, pale eyes the color of a dawn sky, with the feline irises of a Kin. Nothing else catlike about … Ooh, would you look at those irresistible little fangs … She licked her lips. Wonder how they'd feel on my tongue?
Shiny, shoulder-length dark hair fell to Senth's shoulders, worn loose the way she preferred. Mmm, what a luscious looking man. He had golden skin and symmetrical features not unlike a Better, yet muted. Not a dazzling beauty, but a beauty nonetheless. A physical presence. Leashed energy. And he isn't afraid of me. Well, well.
“Come, Senthys,” Saint-Cyr said. “Ms. Jorlan does not…”
“Wait.” NarrAy spoke to Senth. “Do you have gloves?”
Broxus lurched forward.
She stopped him with a lifted hand.
“Yes, ma'am.” Senth started to pull them on.
Saint-Cyr stretched out a hand to stop Senth. “I don't think that's a good idea, Son. It's against the law to touch a Better.”
Again, NarrAy caught Senth's faint look of surprise. She flashed a look of irritation at Broxus, who backed away.
Senth's mouth widened into a smile. “The law's never stopped us before, master.”
Saint-Cyr frowned, but moved aside.
NarrAy offered her hand. She'd practiced this with her father hundreds of times, hoping for a chance to one day use the knowledge he'd imparted. A gentleman doesn't try to overpower a lady's hand, NarrAy. But he isn't afraid to be firm, either.
She held Senth's gloved hand between both of hers.
“I can see you're a gentleman, Mr. Antonello.”
His cheeks reddened. “Just Senth, ma'am.”
“NarrAy. Never Ms. Jorlan, nor ma'am. Not on this job.” She gave his hand a strong squeeze. “Understood?”
He smiled into her eyes. “Does that mean you want me?” He blushed again and glanced down at their still joined hands. “For the job, I mean.”
She bit back a laugh. What a little innocent you are. “So long as we're clear on who's in charge.”
He inclined his head. “You are, NarrAy. In every way.”
You have no idea. She grinned at him. He had never once tried to look at her body. Maybe this dress will be okay after all.
“Come sit down.” Still holding his hand, she gestured toward an adjacent room. “Let's talk business.”
* * * *
NarrAy crossed her legs, exposing a good portion of her skin under the short dress. If she'd been sitting opposite Senth, the length might have been welcomed. But the Harbinger lounged in that chair, and Senth sat close beside her on the couch.
Crossing her legs put her a little closer to him.
“Destoiya murdered my parents,” NarrAy continued her story, “as surely as if she'd actually been the one who shot them in the back. They were scientists working on a secret technology. When she heard rumors they were planning to give their findings to the underground, she had them killed. She confiscated everything, including their personal belongings. There was a locket my mother inherited from my grandmother, which my grandmother inherited from her grandmother. It's mine, and I want it back.”
She met Senth's penetrating gaze and held it. She heard rather than saw Encie enter the room and take up a place near the door. Broxus moved to stand beside her. NarrAy couldn't take her eyes off Senth.
“Let me see if I have this right,” the young man began. “You're hiring a Level Nineteen thief to break into a government building to steal back a locket because it has sentimental value.”
NarrAy nodded.
“Uh huh.” Senth blinked and leaned closer. “What's it really worth?”
“Pardon?” She set a hand against her bosom.
“Come on.” Senth didn't follow her hand movement, instead tilting his head a bit. “What do you take me for?” He leaned back against the couch. “I'm smarter than you are beautiful, NarrAy, and
that's saying something.”
She felt warmth in her cheeks. When was the last time she'd actually blushed over a compliment? Especially one as offhand as that?
“Tell me the truth,” Senth urged. “What's the locket's true value? I promise not to try to market it, but I need to know what kind of real security I might be up against.”
“Market?” She looked over at the Harbinger.
“Fence,” the man said, steepling his fingers.
“Ah.” She turned back to Senth. “Very well, since you put it that way. The inscription inside it leads to a numbered account holding my inheritance. The Conqueror has no idea I want that piece. Our intel says everything's being held in a warehouse on Tarth. It's a government building, but the warehouse portion has no higher security than any other part.”
“You have the location of the building?”
She motioned to Lieutenant Broxus, and the man gave Senth a note reader, which he opened and scanned, thumbing through several screens. He picked up the stylus at the top and made a few notes before handing it across to the Harbinger.
“A Vassindorf, sir?”
Saint-Cyr read for a moment. “No doubt.” He gave back the pad.
“A Vassindorf is a kind of security system,” Senth explained to NarrAy. “They upgrade frequently. I'd need to train on certain protocols before we arrive.”
“How long would this training take?”
“Two of our highest ranking members are in town right now. I could be finished by noon tomorrow, if they're available.”
“If?” NarrAy prompted.
“They're like uncles to me.” Senth and the Harbinger exchanged nods. “They'll help.”
“I'm not quite sure I understand why a Level Nineteen thief needs training.”
“It's standard procedure for any job over a specific skill level. I'm more than qualified. If someone else were doing this job, I'd probably be called to train them. It's insurance against getting caught between software upgrades and the like. Security frequently changes.” He shrugged. “We change with it.”
“All right. I guess I see why you need the training. Keep those notes. When can we leave?”
At the Mercy of Her Pleasure Page 2