Again, no answer.
“Le’Ace!” Nothing. “Tabitha.” Nothing. “Mishka.” The moment he spoke her real first name, he blinked, stilled. Mishka. Delicious, sinful, and mysterious, like the woman herself. The name rolled perfectly from his tongue, something to savor in the dark of night. “Mishka.”
Yet again, no answer.
Ignoring him for spite? Cathy had played that game several times over their year-long association. Perversely, he’d enjoyed the quiet and hadn’t tried to soothe her. He didn’t feel the same about Le’Ace. He wanted her in front of him, and he wanted her talking. For answers, he assured himself.
Liar. Scowling, Jaxon wheeled his chair down the hall.
CHAPTER 6
An enzyme shower required less than three minutes. Le’Ace remained in the stall for ten, the cool mist seeping past her skin and scrubbing her inside and out. But no matter how long she stayed there, no matter how clean she washed, she would feel dirty. Always dirty. That never changed.
Didn’t help that she’d left Jaxon in the living room only to receive a call from her boss, Estap. Another job already awaited her. Something quick and easy, she’d been told. Yeah. Right. For the past three nights, one of the Schön had been spotted inside a bar downtown; tonight, she was to enter that bar and wait for him. If he showed up, she was to catch his attention and engage him in conversation.
At least she hadn’t been ordered to sleep with him. Yet.
Jaxon wanted nothing to do with her, yet she’d hoped to spend the evening with him. He might have dismissed her, but she was still drawn to him, craved him. Just being near him was preferable to anything else.
She pressed her forehead against the cold gray tile and flattened her palms against her temples. While one of her hands boasted pretty, olive-toned skin, the other gleamed silver. The alien metal had been melted and poured over her arm, disintegrating the skin before hardening into a thin yet nearly indestructible shield. She hadn’t wanted it, had begged to be left alone. Her body had never been her own, however, so she had been given the metal arm despite her protests.
Guess that’s what happened when a person was created and raised in a lab, their DNA sculpted and honed purposefully. Nothing was their own, nothing was their choice.
“Life is good,” she muttered.
Except for the people hired to train her in combat and seduction, doctors and scientists had been her only companions the first few years of her life. They’d experimented on her constantly. How much pain could she endure? How long could she go without sleep? Without food and water? How long could she remain in one place, crouched and quiet?
Because she’d lived that way from infancy, she hadn’t known any better. She’d thought every child was subjected to that kind of torture. Only when she’d begun leaving the lab for jobs had she realized what she’d been deprived of. Affection, respect. Choice. By then, however, the chip had been surgically implanted in her brain and there’d been no way to escape. Not alive. They could track her anywhere. They could press a button and kill her instantly.
Little wonder hate was sometimes a living entity inside her.
The knowledge of her helplessness was always in the back of her mind, driving almost all of her actions. What she wouldn’t give for a single moment of peace. A moment for her and her alone, finally experiencing what the rest of the world took for granted: pleasure.
She inhaled quickly, exhaled slowly. The men she’d been with had come in all shapes and sizes, species, and backgrounds. Some had been sadistic, some merely interested in getting off, while some had genuinely sought to please her. None had, for she’d hated them all equally. They’d been a job and she hadn’t chosen them. Handsome or ugly, evil or good, they’d sickened her.
Jaxon, though, she thought she might have chosen on her own. They’d only been together a few weeks. Days, if only counting the time he’d been awake. But he attracted her in so many ways. His scars were proof of his intimate relationship with pain and that pain was a bond between them, whether he realized it or not, though most of her scars were internal. His courage and determination were awe-inspiring; she wished she were more like him.
Was he attracted to her in return?
Sometimes she would swear that he was. There was a heat in his eyes, a white-hot pulse of desire just under his skin. Other times, he gave her that blank stare. She sighed. If Jaxon loved a woman, Le’Ace suspected he would do everything in his power to protect her, would guard her with his life. Would cherish her as if she were a precious treasure. Her stomach fluttered with the thought. In jealousy? In sexual desire?
In longing, she realized then. So much longing. Had anyone ever treated her that way? “Hell, no.” She breathed in the scentless spray, feeling it prickle through her nose, down her throat. She could have added fragrance like a normal human, but the scent would have clashed with the “natural” aroma her creators had added.
“Jaxon is not meant for you. Get him out of your mind. You have work to do.”
With another sigh, she turned off the spray and stepped from the stall. Bypassing the body dryer, she stalked from the bathroom still damp. Shock stopped her short.
Jaxon had wheeled himself into her bedroom. Had her thoughts conjured him? He sat on the edge of her bed, the wheelchair discarded and in the corner. He was facing her, his silver eyes intense and boring into her. His nostrils flared when he spotted her. Something utterly primal flashed in his expression, there one moment, gone the next.
He’d switched off all the lights but one, the lamp on the nightstand washing him in magical gold.
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her heartbeat picked up speed, wild, primal. She was naked. He could see every inch of her, every flaw. But her feet were rooted in place, preventing her from striding back into the bathroom for a towel.
“What are you doing here?” she croaked.
His hot gaze slid over her, down…down…then back up again, landing on her hardening nipples and staying. His pupils dilated, and he swallowed. “I came to, uh, talk.”
“My breasts are flattered,” she forced herself to say, “though I doubt they can answer any of your earlier questions.”
Red stained his cheeks, and his eyes snapped up to hers. “You’re the one walking around naked.”
“You’re the one sneaking into other people’s rooms.”
He pushed out a sigh as conflicted as hers had been in the shower. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked.”
He meant it; the embarrassment was proof of that.
“I don’t regret it, though,” he added.
Most men wouldn’t have bothered offering an apology at all, so she didn’t mind the addition. Did that mean he liked what he saw? Warm shivers trekked down her spine, spreading to her limbs. “I tried to talk to you fifteen minutes ago. You told me we had nothing to say to each other.”
“I lied. What happened to your arm?”
Shit! She jerked her right arm behind her back, hiding the silver metal. “Rogue alien,” she said, repeating his lie to her.
His eyes narrowed, dangerous slits. “Why—”
“Listen,” she said, cutting him off. “You picked a bad time for conversation.” She strode to her dresser as if she hadn’t a care, barely managing to keep her hands at her sides when she passed him. The need to reach out, sift her fingers through his hair, glide her palms over his shoulders and chest threatened to consume her. “I have somewhere to be. You’ll get to spend the evening all by your lonesome like you probably wished.”
He sucked in a breath.
“What?” she said, spinning to face him.
As though entranced, he licked his lips. Suddenly she wanted that tongue inside her mouth, thrusting deep and hard.
“Your back,” he finally said.
Damn it! She turned away, flicking the long length of her hair over her shoulder, hiding her tattoos and the embarrassing scars underneath them. “What about it?” she asked with pretend nonchalance.
“The artwork is lovely. Truly lovely.”
There was arousal in his tone. Rich, dark, husky. Is he lying? she found herself asking the chip.
Increased body temperature suggests he speaks the truth.
Her eyes widened, and her knees nearly buckled. He truly liked what he saw, then. That delighted her on a primitive level. “Thank you.” This time, there was no masking her emotions with that pretend nonchalance. This time, her shock and pleasure rang in both breathless syllables. She grabbed her glove and slid it in place, covering her arm from fingertips to armpit.
“Why are you leaving?” The words themselves were clipped, though he tried to smooth the harsh tone with a smile. His eyes gleamed.
Shit. She was looking at him again, though she didn’t recall turning, providing him with another full-frontal view. Scowling, she focused on the drawer of underwear and selected black silk. “My boss called. I’m needed elsewhere tonight.”
Jaxon clicked his teeth together. “Where?”
“Out.”
“Why the black lace?”
“I like it.”
“Where. The hell. Are you going?” There was no missing his fury.
She’d expected joy. “Out,” she repeated, stepping into the material and gliding it in place.
“Where?” he snarled. “Who will you be with?”
“Why do you care?” Hands suddenly shaking, she anchored a matching bra in place. “Never mind. We’re not discussing this, Jaxon. No reason to. We’re not lovers, we’re not even friends.” She could only imagine the names he’d call her if he knew the truth about her. Whore. Slut. Men were such hypocrites. They could sleep with thousands and they were gods. More than one and a woman was forever tainted.
Le’Ace didn’t need his condemnation added to her own.
“Obviously, you’ll be with a man. A boyfriend?”
“No.” She whipped around, knowingly facing him this time. When he came into focus, she gasped. The reserved mask he’d worn all these many days was gone completely. He appeared savage, capable of inflicting unbearable pain. And doing it with a menacing smile.
Their gazes tangled, two swords drawn and thrust together. Another hot shiver moved through her. She swallowed the lump growing in her throat.
“Come here.” He spoke quietly, yet there was absolute command in his voice.
She could have walked away; he wouldn’t have been able to follow her. But she stepped toward him, desperate to be near him, and unable to breathe when she finally stood between his spread knees. Her mind screamed for her to run. What are you doing? This is wrong. He might offer pleasure now, but he’d offer disdain later.
His hands lifted and settled on her waist, holding her in place. She gasped at first contact, his skin so hot it seared her to the bone. Why had his touch never disgusted her? Why did she always crave more?
“Wh-what do you want?” Stuttering Le’Ace?
“I’ll tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want you to leave.”
Truth?
Affirmative.
She blinked in surprise. “I—I must.”
His grip tightened, his fingers digging deep. “Kiss me first.”
While she yearned to obey, commands were not something she would tolerate. Not from him. “Do not tell me what to do. Ever.”
His eyes blazed, an inferno staring up at her. “That was not a command. Damn it, it was a fucking plea.”
Everything inside her softened. “A kiss won’t change anything,” she replied on a wispy catch of breath. “I still have to leave.”
“I don’t care, all right? Since the first moment I saw you, I’ve wondered what you taste like. I have to know.”
Truth?
Affirmative.
She gulped and his hot gaze followed the movement of her throat. Tentatively she settled her hands on his shoulders. His muscles bunched underneath her palms, thrilling her. Several seconds ticked by, but she didn’t lean down, didn’t take his lips.
She was suddenly more afraid than she’d ever been before.
What if she did it wrong? What if he found no pleasure with her? Her pulse kicked into a wild, uncontrollable dance. You know how to kiss. This is silly. But this was the first time she’d ever cared about a man’s enjoyment. This was the first time she’d been wet and shaky, eager for it.
“Mishka,” he breathed. His arms lifted and his hands tangled in her hair.
Her knees almost buckled. He hadn’t called her Le’Ace, which would have preserved a bit of distance between them. He’d called her by her first name, the first man to ever do so.
Lost, she leaned down and softly pressed her lips against his.
Jaxon could have come at the first hesitant brush of their mouths.
Her jasmine scent held the faintest trace of spice, enveloping him as her fingers clenched on his shoulders, nails sinking sharply. She would have scored his skin if he’d been bare-chested. And he would have liked it. Might have even begged for more.
He’d jerked on a T-shirt while she’d been in the shower, suspecting it would be needed as a shield. Not because he feared her strength, but because he feared his lack of resistance. He could not seduce her if she seduced him, which she was dangerously close to doing.
Not much time with her; don’t waste it.
“I want to kiss you deeper.” True. “Harder.”
She gulped. Nodded.
He pressed his lips to her again, applying a tiny bit more pressure. Her lips remained locked together, so he ran his tongue along the seam. His eyes closed in surrender, his will to resist gone. So soft, so sweet.