Mercury Striking

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “What are you doing?” he rumbled, sliding a wicked-edged knife next to a bowl.

  She had no clue. Going on instinct? They’d both had a hellish night, and she was freezing. She just wanted to warm up.

  Jax was all heat. Hurt glimmered in his eyes, and the sense of being torn apart sizzled on his fury. She could think of only one way to ease his pain and forget her own. So she stretched up on her toes and licked under his jaw. Whiskers bit into her tongue, and she moaned.

  He stiffened. “Lynne, baby? It’s been a really shitty night.”

  “I know.” She pressed against him, enjoying the ripple of muscle as he tried to hold back. “I don’t want to think about the night. Or talk about the night. Let’s forget the night.”

  His hands clamped on her arms, and he held her at arm’s length, studying her. “You want me to take you away?”

  “God, yes.” She unfastened his belt buckle.

  Jax Mercury wasn’t a guy to ask twice. “Gladly. Forget about Myriad, forget about vitamin B, and just be here in the moment.” He slid his hands across her chest and down, tightening them over her breasts before reaching the hem and tugging the slightly damp cotton over her head. She shivered.

  Big and warm, his hands molded to her breasts. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “In case I forget to tell you, you’re beautiful.”

  Panic rippled through her abdomen, and her breath heated. She flattened her hand over the bulge in his jeans. “I don’t want sweet, Jax.” She didn’t want emotion or feelings or depth. She squeezed.

  He stilled. “You don’t want sweet?” Something dark, a warning of sorts, deepened his voice.

  She shivered again. “No.”

  “Fair enough.” He moved faster than possible, lifting her, moving, and laying her on the bed. Another wipe of his hand, and her yoga pants flew across the room.

  Fire lit her from within, along with a healthy dose of reality. Of caution.

  “Jax?” she asked. What had she just unleashed?

  He straddled her and reached for his belt, gaze intent. The sound of leather sliding through denim echoed loudly in the silent room, skittering a wary hunger down her spine. He smiled, showing his teeth in an expression that was anything but sweet.

  Thunder roared outside, and metal clashed against the building.

  Nude, beneath him, she was breathless with vulnerability. “I don’t want scary, either.”

  His belt free, he leaned toward her face. “You sure about that? Maybe scary is exactly what you need.” His thighs tightened, and he ran the leather down her neck and over her nipples. They hardened to sharp points and zipped electricity across every nerve. The memory of the leather against her flesh earlier assailed her.

  She trembled, her mind blanking. “Uh—”

  He grinned and grabbed her wrists in one firm hand. She struggled, and his fingers tightened. Awareness clipped through her on the heels of fear. Manacling her, he wrapped the belt around her wrists, securely binding them.

  She gasped. “What are you doing?”

  “Not being sweet.” He yanked her arms up over her head and fastened the belt to the metal headboard.

  She arched, fighting him, unable to move.

  Lightning flared outside, illuminating the harsh lines of his face. Of his tight, strong body.

  She caught her breath, struggling against the bed, her arms bound tight. He encircled her neck, gently, but providing a clear reminder of her fragility. Humming softly, he traced a path down to her breasts, where he tweaked both nipples. Hard.

  Electricity, desperate and out of control, zipped from her breasts to her sex. She arched up against him, a craving for more rendering her mute. Her entire life she’d been in control, and losing it, to somebody like him, heated her up. Fast.

  He chuckled and stood, dropping his jeans. Hard and ready. He slid back onto the bed, all smooth-muscled grace, and flattened his hand over her abdomen. “You ever been tied up?”

  “No,” she gasped, tugging on the restraint.

  He chuckled, the sound dark. “I bet not. Brilliant, beautiful Lynne Harmony. I bet you had guys begging for a kiss. Nice guys.”

  Awareness, uncertainty, caught her voice in her throat. “No.”

  “Liar.” He reached up and played absently with a nipple, adding just enough bite to make her gasp. Confusion fuzzed through her brain as her body hungered with an edge close to pain. “Did they ask you politely for a kiss? Inquire as to what you wanted? Wait for instructions on how to touch you?” He slid down, parted her labia, and scraped a nail across her clit.

  Pain and pleasure flared together. She cried out, shoving against his hand, needing more. So much more, but she instinctively tried to press her legs together.

  “Yeah. I bet they asked permission. Hell—panted desperately for permission. Lawyers and stockbrokers—no alley rats or foxhole hounds like me.” He rolled on top of her, shoving her thighs wide and forcing her open with his hips. One hand held his weight off her, and his cock slid against her wet mound. “Nobody ever made you beg, now did they, baby?”

  Heat flushed down her torso, and she closed her eyes. “No.” Her voice cracked. She could smell the raging storm on him, just barely covering the scent of violence. His shower in the rain had merely taken care of the dirt and blood. The violence lived within him. She swallowed. “For a take-charge badass, you sure talk a lot.”

  He barked out a laugh, his breath heating her lips. “You’ve seriously miscalculated here.”

  Her eyelids flipped open. “How so?” she breathed, throwing a challenge into her gaze, unnerved by the glint in his eyes.

  His focus held steely determination. “Sweet, you could’ve handled. Sure, there would’ve been emotion, and that’s tough. But this way? My way?”

  Even bound, even helpless, she tilted her head back on the pillow to raise her chin. “Yes?”

  “This way, I’ll own you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fairy tales tell us that love is a strong light, when in truth; it can be darker than evil and twice as strong.

  —Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony

  Jax leaned over Lynne, his gaze right above her. Desire heated the air, and hunger glowed in her amazing eyes. But he needed more. “Say it,” he said softly.

  She blinked, completely helpless to him, pride and strength flickering across her face and holding her still. No fear. Only need filled her expressive eyes. “Say what?”

  “Ask me.” He lowered his face to within an inch of hers, covering her completely. The smell of fresh rain and woman filled his senses. “Beg me to release you.” He wanted her begging, but he needed her bound. Controlled. The darkness inside him, so much deeper after the fever, demanded to be appeased.

  Her jaw firmed. “No.”

  He stiffened. “No?”

  She trembled against him, and inside, he roared. Just how far could he push? “This is your one chance. Ask now, and I’ll let you free. Stay stubborn, and no matter how hard you plead, I won’t release you. Until. I’m. Done.”

  If the devil had an expression, she gave it to him. Meeting his gaze, pink skating cross her face, she slowly, deliberately, licked her lips. “Fuck you.”

  The coarse words spoken in such an educated tone spurred him as nothing else could have. He shot down the bed and buried his face in her cunt. Soft and sweet—so feminine. She cried out a sound of surprise and struggled against him.

  Forgetting gentle, he palmed her thighs and spread them wide. Then he gave one long, slow lick into her.

  Tremors cascaded through her legs. “Oh God,” she moaned.

  He smiled. The anger inside him, the emptiness, fought with humor. How did she do that? Could she appease him enough to halt the nightmares?

  “Now you stop?” she moaned, bending her leg at the knee and nailing his ribs with her heel.

  He instantly sank his teeth into her labia. Not hard enough to damage, but with definite intent.

  She squawked and went still. Compl
etely.

  He lifted his head, resting his chin on her heated mound, the beast inside him waiting patiently. “You really want to play?”

  Her eyes widened, and she slowly shook her head. As if sensing what he needed, her body softened into the bed.

  Submission.

  Yeah, he would’ve demanded it, but to have it given so freely by a woman with such strength made him relax. She watched him, eyes alert, lids half-closed.

  He kissed her, right on her swollen clit. Her breath caught audibly. “You behave, and I’m going to make you very happy. Kick me again, move merely a muscle, and I bite.” To enforce his point, he nipped her thigh.

  She jumped and then stilled. “I, ah, said I didn’t want to play.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t ask to be released when you had the chance, so it doesn’t matter what you want.”

  Her eyes flared at that, with challenge and heat. He waited for her to say something, to object, yet she wisely remained silent. She’d probably ruled her little world until it had disintegrated, leaving her alone and lost. He could take her away for a while and get her out of her head, but she’d play the game his way.

  “Any questions?” he drawled.

  She narrowed her gaze and tightened her lips.

  He chuckled against her clit, sending vibrations he could see through her abdomen.

  She held still, stubborn woman, but couldn’t help a low gasp. “Please, Jax.”

  Such a pretty please. He dropped his head and gave them what they both needed, going at her with focus and no mercy. She tried to hold still, she truly did, and he could feel the cost to her. But after merely a minute, she gyrated against him, moving with the fast rhythm he’d set. She broke with a low moan, her abdomen undulating, the waves riding her hard.

  He prolonged her orgasm until her body stiffened against him, and then he rose lazily up her body. She blinked, eyes wide and slightly confused, satiated for the moment.

  Grabbing a condom, he sheathed himself, grabbed her hip, and stroked deep inside her.

  Her hips rose from the bed to meet him, and her mouth opened on a gasp. She struggled against the leather belt, her thighs slamming against his.

  He paused, balls deep, and kept her attention. Waiting. She blinked, tugged hard on the secured restraints, and then stopped. Her hands wrapped around the leather. Keeping his gaze, she slowly released each muscle, her body soft and pliant beneath him.

  Hunger roared through him, sparking his nerves, clawing deep. So many words rushed to his mouth, he bit his tongue. Not one could he say. Feelings, the real kind, would get them both killed. So he started to move.

  Hard and fast, giving no quarter, he pounded into her. She took what he gave, wrapping her legs around him, trust and a light he didn’t want to identify in her wary eyes. The harder he thrust, the higher her hips met his. So he pushed down, keeping control, pinning her where he wanted her. Red flushed across her face, and her nipples sharpened even more against his chest.

  He took her mouth, overcoming her, stealing even her breath. He took everything she had, knowing full well what he was doing, forcing her higher and higher. Her nails bit into the leather belt, and internal quakes grabbed his cock in an unreal heat. He released her sweet lips, levered himself up, and battered her clit relentlessly with each thrust.

  Her body stiffened, and she opened her mouth in a high scream as he hurtled her into oblivion. It crossed his mind to cover her mouth, to kiss her deep, but he let her cry echo against the apartment walls and beyond—in a primitive display of possession. Let them all hear. Too far gone to care, he dropped his head to the crook of her neck and shoved deep, his entire body shaking as he came.

  They panted against each other in the aftermath. He reached up and released her wrists. She lowered her arms with a pained hiss, rolling her shoulders into the bed. He pulled out of her and removed the condom. Without a word, he levered himself up and pushed her onto her stomach.

  “What?” she murmured.

  He planted both hands on her shoulders and started to knead. She moaned, the sound full of pleasure, and buried her face in the pillow.

  He could admit, just to himself, that he didn’t want her to see his face until he got himself under control. While he’d easily released the restraint around her, the ones trying to capture him, to bind him to her, were growing stronger.

  He’d let down too many people in his life, and the Vanguard group deserved his full allegiance—no matter how sweet Lynne Harmony turned out to be.

  Lynne sat at the wooden table in a sprawling middle room on the first floor, trying not to fidget in the afternoon light. After the wild bout of sex, she and Jax had slept for several hours. “What was this room before?” she asked Sami.

  Sami glanced around. “A soup kitchen.”

  A counter ran alongside one wall holding food, and tables had been scattered throughout like a mess hall. The tables consisted of everything from lawn furniture to wooden planks set over concrete blocks. A doorway led out front to the deserted parking lot, and a sliding glass door opened out back to an empty street. The showers were over to the left, she thought. She leaned forward and blew on some soup heated over a makeshift fireplace outside. “I need to get to work.”

  Sami drank soup from a plastic Dora the Explorer cup. “Jax said to make sure you ate something and then take you to Tace’s infirmary.”

  “How are Tace and Haylee doing?” Lynne asked.

  Sami winced. “I heard both have slipped into comas, so we’ll see if either one of them wakes up.”

  God, Lynne hated the Scorpius bacteria. She kept drinking her soup, trying to regain some strength. Jax had been gone when she’d awoken, leaving her oddly bereft. So they’d had sex. Wild, crazy, kind of intriguing sex. She could handle that. Yep. No emotions for her. That would be crazy. Plus, once she’d taken care of her agenda, she’d be free. Enough of this place, which was just another prison.

  Two women, dressed in faded jeans and dark shirts, skirted their table and scurried across the room.

  Lynne lifted her chin.

  Sami rolled her eyes. “Ignore them. The blue heart is scary, and that’s life.”

  “What. Are we becoming friends here?” Lynne downed her soup.

  Sami shrugged. “Why not?”

  Why not, indeed? “You didn’t like me on sight.”

  “Geez, I apologized already.” Sami sat back in a torn wicker chair.

  Heat climbed into Lynne’s face. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.”

  Sami’s brown eyes sparkled. “But you don’t want a friend.”

  Lynne swallowed. “I don’t, ah, want complications.”

  Sami threw back her head and laughed, the sound almost contagious. “Well, then it’s a good thing you’re banging Jax Mercury. That doesn’t seem complicated at all.”

  Lynne snorted. “Shut up.”

  “You shut up.” Sami sobered. “Seriously. You show up, offer to help, ask Jax for a favor, and then what?” Wisdom far beyond her years glowed in her eyes. “You done at that point?”

  Lynne swallowed. “That’s an odd question.”

  “That’s not an answer.” Sami played with a sliver on the makeshift table. “I know more than a couple of people who couldn’t handle this new life and checked out. They had the same look in their eyes as you did last night.”

  Lynne blinked. “I hadn’t really thought I’d make it this far, to be honest.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” Sami rubbed her nose. “But you’re here now.”

  Yes, yes she was. The idea of hope and a real future hurt, so she banished them. “What did you do before this?”

  “Com . . . cop. I was a rookie here in L.A.” Sami glanced down.

  Lynne paused, her mind clicking. Interesting. “What’s a com . . . cop?”

  Sami laughed, the sound a bit more forced. “I burned my tongue.”

  Lynne leaned forward and waited until Sami met her gaze. “Whatever your secret is, I don’t care.”<
br />
  Sami blinked. “I don’t have a secret.” She pushed her chair back from the table to look down. “I have to ask you—is there any truth to the rumors? That you’re carrying a more deadly strain of Scorpius?”

  Lynne dropped her head and then looked back up, frustration welling in her. “No. I promise—there’s no deadlier strain.”

  Sami nodded. “That’s what Jax said. You know, at some point I wonder if we’ll have to separate people. You know, survivors from folks who haven’t been infected.”

  Lynne shrugged. “I bet it’ll get to that point, but even then, Scorpius will remain on surfaces. I think everyone will be infected someday, and only the survivors of the contagion will live on. But I could be wrong.”

  Sami rolled her shoulders. “Something to worry about for another day, right? I’ll get us some water. With the rain last night and today, we can drink all we want.”

  Lynne watched as Sami strode across the room to a barrel of water, saying hi to people on the way. In society as it was now, who didn’t have a secret or two? She turned and glanced out the square industrial windows out back. Rain still pattered down, turning an already depressing landscape gray. Jax and another soldier, one she hadn’t met, strolled into her view.

  Her stomach tingled.

  Jax stood in the mist, ignoring the cold, tall and broad. Droplets caught in his thick hair and slid down the sharp angles of his face. The streets had stamped him hard, but he stood erect, like a soldier. Such an intriguing mixture in the man. The other guy tugged a gun from his waistband and pivoted to jog out of sight.

  Jax stuck his hands in his pockets and stared across the empty street to a long building and beyond into the heart of his territory.

  A little girl, with blond hair so light as to be white, and wearing a wet pink dress, danced up from the shower area, ragged doll in hand, to grab his pants leg.

  Lynne’s breath caught, and she rose from her chair. The girl was so tiny.

  Jax’s face, even in profile, was transformed by a look that stuttered her heart. His dimples flashed and he dropped to his haunches, eye to eye with the little girl.