by Nina Croft
“I taught myself. I got my first laser pistol when I was fourteen and haven’t been anywhere without one since. Well, until now.” He looked pointedly at his laser pistol fastened around her waist.
“What happened when you were fourteen?”
Did he want to rehash old history? Maybe it would make her understand him better. Make her realize the fated love thing was highly unlikely with a man like him. “The Church killed my parents.”
“Why?”
“Because they were genetically modified. And that’s what the Church does.”
“It’s allowed?”
“I don’t think the Collective had thought through the implications of downgrading us to animal status or knew what the Church planned.” For the first time he accepted this. He’d always hated the Collective only second to the Church. Blamed them for the policy that had allowed the Church to kill with impunity. “They put a stop to the purge but didn’t revoke the law, and there were still execution squads from the Church that would hunt down and kill any GMs they found.”
“Why did the Church want you all dead?”
“They called us abominations in the eyes of God.”
“Oh.” She reached out a hand as if to stroke his hair, but then let it drop to her side. “I think you’re beautiful.”
No one had ever called him beautiful before. He’d always been conscious of being different, but he’d never been ashamed of the outward signs of his mixed heritage. In fact, he looked on them as badges of honor.
“There are also these.” He took her hand in his and moved her fingers so they pressed against the pad of his fingertips. A sharp claw emerged.
“Retractable claws—wow.”
He stroked the sharp claw lightly across her palm, and a visible shiver ran through her. “A little something from my mother,” he murmured.
“What was she?”
“Mostly human with a little jaguar DNA. My parents were scientists. They believed that genetic modification was the way to strengthen mankind. Anyway, the Church found them and killed them. I escaped with my brother Tris—he was only six at the time.”
“And what did you do? Where did you go?”
“Well, first I got myself that laser pistol, then I hunted down the squad who had killed my parents, and I returned the favor.”
“You killed them?”
She sounded shocked at the idea. “Sweetheart, I’ve killed a lot of people.”
“But they all deserved to die?”
“Some of them. Afterward, I took Tris and we joined the rebels. I worked my way up and took over when I was twenty-one. I’ve been killing Church people ever since.”
“What was your brother like?”
Oh God, Tris. Tightness constricted his chest at the thought of his baby brother. The one person he’d allowed himself to love in the long years since his parents had been slaughtered. And look how that had turned out. It was something he would do well to remember.
“He was an idiot who died for no good reason.”
She blinked at the sharpness of his tone. “Did he have a bad reason?”
Tris had died trying to save Janey, the Blood Hunter’s beautiful tech expert. A futile act of bravery, as they’d both died anyway. Shot by Temperance Hatcher. That’s what happened when you cared for people.
The wound was still raw; perhaps it always would be.
Saffira was studying him, her expression so earnest as though she cared and hurt with him. He didn’t want that. Wouldn’t allow anyone else to have power over him. Be taken from him. “I have to go,” he said.
Walking out on her was becoming a habit. But he couldn’t seem to stay away. Once he was with her, she made him feel things he’d really rather not. So he couldn’t stay either.
Without waiting for her to say anything further, he whirled away and left her standing there.
…
Five days.
They’d been meandering the vastness of space with no clue where they were heading. Impatience gnawed at his belly. He wanted to get this over with, but he reckoned they could spend the rest of eternity wandering around looking for her bloody wormhole.
She studied the stars continuously, searching for something she’d seen in her goddamn vision. How long would it take her to realize that’s all it was—it wasn’t real—and let them head back?
Probably never.
Right now, she sat on a seat she’d placed in the center of the bridge and stared out at space as though she could will her wormhole to appear. Since his last weak moment, when he’d given her the shooting lesson—as an excuse to cop a feel or two—he’d managed to keep his distance and avoid them being alone together. Occasionally, he’d intercept a hurt look from her that did something odd to his insides.
“Well,” Rico snapped from the pilot’s seat. “Any fucking wisdom to impart? Any clue to where we’re fucking going? No? I’ve had enough of wandering aimlessly—I’m going to get some sleep. She’s on auto.”
He got up and stomped from the room.
“Do vampires sleep?” Saffira asked.
“No idea.”
He realized with a jolt of shock that they were the first words she’d spoken directly to him since the shooting lesson. And that if he’d been avoiding any situations that might make him give in to the temptation of her tight little body, then she’d been doing nothing to avoid him avoiding her.
The thought pissed him off a little. Because the truth was, he wanted her. Wanted to sink his cock into the hot, slick depths of her. The memory of how she’d felt—hot and wet on his fingers—stuck in his mind. How would that heat feel wrapped around his dick? He hadn’t jerked off this much since he’d been a teenager. He’d tried to keep busy, tuning the engines, getting to know the ship. While he might hate Callum and all he stood for, he was falling in love with his ship. He’d tried to keep his mind on thoughts of revenge—what he would do to Hatcher and his people when he finally got back on course. But even thoughts of revenge and how Saffira was delaying him couldn’t keep his mind and body from considering all the ways he could fuck her.
He’d found himself visiting the bridge more than was necessary. She was always here, studying the star charts the Blood Hunter created as they sailed through uncharted space. And she always looked the other way when he entered and then studiously ignored him. He’d wanted to do the same—but it was hard. She’d obviously raided the cabins for clothes and appropriated what she found. Presumably things Alex had left behind, going from the size and color. Alex and Jon were two more crewmembers who had jumped ship before they entered the black hole. Alex was pregnant and didn’t want to take the risk. She was also ex-high priestess of the Church of Everlasting Life, and after a lifetime of wearing black, she’d rebelled and now wore the brightest colors she could find.
Today, Saffira wore a yellow jumpsuit with orange piping. She’d gotten to her feet, and it was obvious she was a little larger than Alex. The material stretched tight over her curves, revealing the rounded swell of her ass as she stood with her back to him, once again ignoring his presence. Then she bent over the console, almost pointing that ass in his direction—entirely unintentional, he was sure. His dick didn’t care. It pulsed inside his pants and he shifted and bit back a groan.
What had happened to him being the love of her life? She seemed to have gotten over that very quickly.
“Have you been avoiding me?” He couldn’t believe he had actually asked the question.
She turned slowly at his words, and Devlin leaned against the wall behind him and tried to look casual. Her gaze raked over him but, luckily, she didn’t appear to notice his growing erection.
“Yes,” she said.
He should have expected that answer. She was one of the most direct people he’d ever met.
“Why?” He had an idea this was not a line of questioning he should be following. Just as he also had an idea that what he should be doing was going back to his engine room and playing with his engines. Or more l
ikely playing with his cock while he closed his eyes and imagined those plump pink lips around him, that small pointed tongue licking him like he was her favorite ice cream flavor… He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“I thought it was best. I thought you hated me.”
He frowned. Then shrugged. “I was pissed off with you. I told you I would be if you got in my way.”
“I had to.”
“I understand that. You do what you believe you need to even if it is misguided.”
“You still don’t believe?”
“In time travel—hell no. Every bit of logic argues against it being possible.”
“So how do you explain the visions? How do you explain that I saw the president? That I could describe him?”
“Just visions. Maybe some sort of racial memory carried through the generations.”
Frustration flashed in her eyes. “You will believe. You’ll have to once we find the wormhole.”
“Yeah, once we find it. If we find it,” he added just to rile her up, because he liked seeing her passionate.
As expected a wave of pale blue washed over her skin, and he had to fight the urge to stroke the soft curve of her cheek. To slide down the fastener of her jumpsuit, see if the blue went all the way. He was so tired of fighting what he could see was a losing battle. Why not give in?
“We’ll find it,” she snapped. “I just have to keep looking.” She moved away from the console and stood in the center of the room. For a few seconds she closed her eyes, then she blinked and glanced back over her shoulder.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Remembering the screens from the vision. This is where I stood.” She waved a hand at the screens behind her. “We must be close. Why can’t I see it?”
In the distance, he could make out the planet and the black hole. They hadn’t come that far in five days, nowhere near the distance the ship could have traveled at maximum power, but Saffira hadn’t wanted to miss anything. Or maybe there was more to it. Maybe she was really in no hurry to get there. Maybe she was taking her time, so she had longer to tease and torment him.
She returned to the console and leaned over, tapping something in, muttering under her breath, appearing to have forgotten he was there. Or was she just pretending? Was she playing with him, acting as though she no longer wanted him? Trying a new technique? He liked the old one better.
Silently, he glided across the space between them, not taking his eyes off the globes of her ass as the blood pooled in his groin. It occurred to him in the time it took to reach her that he might as well get something out of this whole fiasco. She owed him something for delaying his revenge. And that something was also something she wanted. Why not give it to her?
Her body tensed as he came to a halt behind her, but she didn’t turn. Her hands rested at her sides on the console, and she bent slightly forward. Taking the last step to close the space between them, he placed his hands on top of hers and curved his body around her, caging her in.
Still she didn’t move, but she did clear her throat. “What are you doing?” The words came out as a husky whisper.
Pushing his cock, now rock hard, against the curve of her ass, he lowered his head, nudging her long hair out of the way so he could whisper in her ear.
“Making at least one of your dreams come true, sweetheart.”
…
Was that his penis pressing into her from behind? She wanted to squirm around and take a peek, because surely it couldn’t be that big and hard and hot.
His arms trapped her in, and she stood for a moment staring blankly at the screen in front of her.
Her feelings were too intense. They scared her. Glancing down, her nipples were hard little points pressing against the material, almost painful in their need to be touched.
She’d thought he was softening the other day when he’d given her the shooting lesson and talked about his family. But then something had gone wrong, and he’d walked out on her. Again. So she’d decided to take Thorne’s advice and try to be a little less obvious.
And since then they’d been avoiding each other, but occasionally she’d sensed him watching, though he always looked away before she could catch him. And his expression had remained hard and cold whenever they’d met. He hated her. She’d known she might have to do difficult things in order to fulfill her destiny, but making Devlin hate her had been the hardest. Once or twice, she’d thought about going to him and telling him…what? That she was sorry she’d forced them into helping her? She wasn’t sorry. She just wished…
But he wasn’t avoiding her now. He stretched out a hand and pressed a switch on the console, and the doors to the bridge slid shut. “And now we’re alone,” he murmured, nudging her again, pressing between the cheeks of her bottom, rubbing against her while his teeth nipped the lobe of her ear, and his breath feathered against her skin. Tremors ran through her and she closed her eyes and counted to ten. Maybe he was just playing with her, tormenting her. Getting a little revenge. But somehow, from the feel of him so hard and full against her, she doubted that.
“You want me?” she asked.
“What do you think?” He slipped one thigh between her legs so it pressed against her core, and she shivered. “Don’t take it too personally, I’m not buying into the love thing, but I want this, and so do you.”
At his words, a little stab of pain hit her in the belly. Obviously, he felt the urge to punish her. She pushed him away slightly, straightened, and turned, still encircled by his arms. Staring up into his face, his eyes were so close she could see the circles of emerald green around the irises. She swallowed. “I do?”
His gaze dropped and she could feel it on her breasts, taking in the evidence of her arousal. A small smile curved his lips. “I think you do. And as long as you forget this vision crap and accept that it’s nothing more than good honest sex between two consenting adults, no strings, just releasing a little of that tension—why not?”
“Why not?” she muttered. Not the most romantic of propositions. “And I’m not tense.”
“Honey, you’re like a wire that’s strung too tight, and any moment you’re going to snap…unless I loosen you up a little.”
His voice was low and husky, and he spoke close to her ear so she could feel the words against her skin. Did it matter if he didn’t love her?
Yes.
The answer screamed through her mind. But what could she do? Should she take what he offered anyway? Get some comfort where she could? She couldn’t shake the feeling that things would soon change, and again she remembered standing alone as the Blood Hunter flew away without her. She didn’t know what that meant. It wasn’t any part of the plan.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured. “Stop thinking…just feel.”
She wished she could. She stared into his eyes. “Make me.”
“I like a challenge.” He considered her, his head cocked to one side. “Though something tells me it won’t be that hard.”
He took a step back. Panic flooded her. Was he leaving, walking away? But he halted and raised a hand. He held it in front of her and the retractable claws sprang from his fingertips, razor sharp. Fear woke inside her. He could rip out her throat with those claws. Could she reach her pistol in time? But instead, she held herself still as he captured her gaze. He stroked one clawed hand down the skin of her throat leaving lines of fire where he touched. Then lower. One sharp claw teased over her engorged nipple, so delicately, and she gasped.
“You like?” He scraped again, sending pleasure shooting to her groin, flooding her sex with liquid heat. She shifted, needing more, and a knowing smile curled his lips.
Leaning close, he whispered in her ear. “Would you like me to tickle between your thighs with my cat’s claws? You’d have to hold yourself so still, in case I pricked you. Could you do that—not move while I stroked you so carefully until you came and even then you’d have to be still.”
She swallowed. “I suppose I co
uld try.” She’d aimed to sound nonchalant but her words came out breathy and aroused. But she couldn’t help it; she was so wet, she might melt into a little puddle of desire any moment.
He laughed softly as he lowered the front fastener of her jumpsuit, so her breasts burst out. He cupped one in his hand and grazed the point of one claw across the engorged nipple, so sensitive a cry broke from her lips.
Trailing a hand down her belly, he pushed the material out of the way, circling her belly button, then lower until he reached the curls at the junction of her thighs. She held her breath. Her clit was pulsing with need and she could almost feel the scrape of that claw, flooding her anew.
“Stopped thinking yet?” he whispered.
It took a moment for his words to make sense. She shook her head, trying to clear the sensual haze. Every cell in her body yearned for him. She was so wet, it would be embarrassing when he finally touched her there.
He took her hand and held it against him, wrapping her fingers around the thick length of his erection through the fabric of his pants. A groan eased out of his throat. She squeezed. Needing to touch his skin, she used her other hand to flick open the fastener of his pants so she could slip inside. His breath hitched in his throat as she touched the burning hot skin of his shaft for the first time. Huge, heavy and thick, his skin was velvet soft over steely hardness. Delving lower, she cupped the weight of his balls, and he groaned again.
She glided her hand up over the length of him and back down to the base, and his hips jerked forward.
“Jesus, that feels so good.” He opened his eyes. “Are you wet for me yet, because I have this urge to fuck you hard and fast and right now.” He slipped his hand back inside her jumpsuit and between her thighs. “Christ,” he groaned as one finger pushed inside and she shuddered.
Lowering his head, he kissed her while his fingers moved between her thighs and his tongue filled her mouth. She was hardly aware as he wrapped an arm around her waist, picked her up, and placed her on the console before moving between her thighs, never breaking the kiss. Lost and mindless, she was aware of nothing but the hand between her legs, his mouth on hers.
