by Tamara Hogan
“This year I came prepared.” Paige jutted out a hip, displaying a pair of hot pink rubber gloves with frilly decorative cuffs hanging out of her back jeans pocket. “So, Dr. Lupinsky—”
“Paige, I told you to call me Gabe,” Gabe interrupted. “We’ll be working together all summer.”
The younger woman flushed a delicate shade of shell pink. “Okay. Gabe. I’ll pull that white paper you suggested and see what Miller has to say about the ductile properties of iron ore versus taconite.” She looked back and forth between Gabe and Lorin. “Um, see you two tomorrow. Have fun.”
Silence resumed after she left. Finally Gabe cleared his throat, indicating the Bat Phone resting on top of his notebook with a jerky hand. “Did you see the updated schedule Jules sent?”
Good. He was as tense as she was. “No, I was up at the site all afternoon.” And if he said one word about her not being up-to-date on her email, she’d blow. The crew would have sun protection tomorrow because she and Nathan had put up the gazebos, and the tarps they’d erected over the pit would block both the sun and snoopy overhead satellites.
A huge crash came from the kitchen as something large and metal dropped to the floor. After a second, hoots and applause broke out.
“I pinged you this afternoon, and you didn’t respond,” Gabe said.
“I didn’t have my phone with me—”
“That has to change, Lorin. What if the problem was more urgent than someone not knowing where to find biodegradable toilet paper? We found more, by the way.”
“So sorry about your asses.”
A ruddy flush climbed his neck. “The toilet paper isn’t the issue,” Gabe gritted. “You don’t answer email, you don’t pick up the phone, you don’t return texts. In case you missed the memo, Lorin, this is the reason I’m here. Elliott needs a reliable line of communication. You don’t even try to provide one.”
She glared at him. “The real problem is your expectation that I return your emails and phone calls within minutes, even when the communication just isn’t all that urgent. Toilet paper? Really? Would it have killed someone to walk up to the site?”
Gabe seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “It would be more convenient if—”
“—more convenient for you, maybe. I was busy erecting tarps so we can start working tomorrow. Boss.”
Gabe leaned in. “Point taken, and quit the ‘boss’ crap. We both know that you could have me hauled off in chains with a click of a mouse. You outrank me in every way that matters.”
In her mind’s eye, she imagined him bound at the wrists and stripped to the waist, awaiting the Council’s judgment. She crossed her arms over her suddenly stiff nipples. “I couldn’t actually do that, you know. Have you hauled away, I mean. There are processes and procedures up the wazoo—”
“Funny how you value some processes and procedures more than others.”
“Well, some processes make sense, and some are stupid.”
“The point I was trying to make,” Gabe said, still clenching his teeth, “is that we need to hammer out the parameters of our working relationship. I need you to carry a phone at all times.” He leaned in close again, dropping his voice to a barely audible rumble she felt clear to her core. “Lorin, think. Your latest find changes the game completely. We’ve already had a trespasser, and we can’t tell the crew what’s going on. We’re each other’s only backup. We—you and me—have to be in lockstep on this.”
They stared at each other, and Lorin finally sighed her acceptance. “You’re so annoying when you’re right.”
He eyed her. “Then I’m going to annoy you a lot.”
Before she could respond, Paige’s high-pitched screech sliced through the air as she scooted out of the kitchen. “Nathan, don’t you dare!” A shower of water from the sink sprayer followed her, dousing the side of her head and splashing all over the floor.
“Is it always like this?” Gabe asked with a sigh. “There hasn’t been a moment of silence since they arrived.”
Lorin considered. “I run. A lot.”
“Me too.”
“Join me tomorrow morning?” she asked. “Getting away from the site would give us a chance to talk without the crew overhearing us.”
“Good idea. Sure.”
A day’s growth of beard once again darkened the planes of his face. Despite his city boy mien, despite those ridiculously sexy glasses, he looked rough and ready, scruffy around the edges. Good enough to nibble on—or gobble down whole.
What did Gabe’s wolf look like? After mere hours on site, Nathan had already shifted and taken off into the woods on four legs. Gabe had been here for days. If he’d shifted, she hadn’t seen it.
“Nathan, stop it!”
Lorin cleared her throat. Paige’s voice reminded her that she and Gabe still had some business to take care of. “We need to talk.”
“You’ve changed your mind about sleeping together,” he replied. “I completely under—”
“Are you crazy? No, this is about Paige.” She took a deep breath. “Be careful with her, Gabe.”
“What?”
“The laughing, the joking? Don’t flirt with her, Gabe.” The minute she said the words, she regretted them. She sounded like a jealous shrew.
Gabe’s face darkened, like a thunderstorm gaining strength as it blew across the prairie. “What kind of degenerate do you think I am?”
Though Gabe hadn’t raised his voice by much, heads turned at his tone. “Ooh, lover’s quarrel,” Mike called.
“Shut up,” Lorin snapped at Mike without taking her eyes off Gabe. “I can’t hear myself think in here. Let’s take this outside.”
“Oh, by all means. Let’s.” Gabe’s subsonic growl vibrated through her rib cage. His ice floe eyes locked with hers, his pupils expanding, pushing the chilly blue away until all that remained were hot pools of black. Though the width of the table was still between them, she could feel the heat pumping off his body.
His nostrils twitched, just the slightest bit. Damn his werewolf hide, of course he could smell how much she wanted him.
Adrenaline mixed with annoyance as she waited for him to clear his dinner tray. He slowly and deliberately threw his paper napkin into the burn bin, put food scraps into the compost pile, and finally pushed the tray itself through to the dish alcove.
“Thanks, Gabe!” Paige called.
Her stomach jumped at the younger woman’s cheerful voice. Maybe you are a jealous shrew.
Gabe stalked back to the picnic table, scooping up his belongings without looking at her. He shoved the Bat Phone into the deep front pocket of his cargo pants.
Her breath snagged in her throat. He was rampantly, outrageously erect.
They walked to the door. “After you,” he said with a mocking sweep of his arm. His mild tone of voice was completely at odds with the turmoil roiling in his eyes. His face seemed sharper, more feral.
It was all she could do to choke back a moan.
As they walked out of the cookhouse together, Lorin heard someone—Mike?—say, “I’m taking bets. Fight or fuck?”
“Fuck, definitely.”
“Fight, then fuck.”
“They’re totally going to do it.”
The door slammed shut behind them. Leaving the heat of the cookhouse, the chill of the evening slapped her cheeks. She was primed, her fists and sex both clenched tight.
Gabe didn’t take four strides before he whirled back towards her. “What the hell are you suggesting?”
Yes, Mr. Discipline had a temper after all. She… liked it. “Gabe, I didn’t mean to… I’m not suggesting that—” She broke off, huffing a breath she could see in the night air, and rested a conciliatory hand on his forearm. “Gabe, I know you weren’t flirting with her. I know that. But she was flirting with you, and Paige is… fragile right now.”
“Cotton candy.”
“What?”
“She reminds me of cotton candy.”
Lorin nodded, acknow
ledging his description. “Physically, she’s tougher than she looks, but emotionally?” She shrugged. “She’s had a massive crush on Mike since last season, and now he’s obviously interested in Gretchen.” She paused. “You aren’t—weren’t—doing anything inappropriate. But please, be careful with her.”
“Like every man here doesn’t stare at your ass when you walk by,” Gabe muttered. The air between them seemed to simmer. “And why would Paige flirt with me when she knows—thinks—we’re lovers?”
“Think of it in terms of pack dynamics. You’re clearly the alpha male in terms of age, experience, power, looks. Flirting with you, garnering your attention, is a public salve to her battered ego.” The slightest grin curved her lips. “It’s really nothing personal.”
After a several-second silence, he said, “There might have been a compliment buried in that statement somewhere, but I’m not sure.”
Her smile grew without her permission. “All I’m asking is that you step carefully as you work with her. It would be… unfortunate if she misinterpreted your professional interest.”
Suddenly he was standing right in front of her, stopping just before their bodies touched. “You can’t honestly think I’m interested in Paige.”
Her eyelids drifted closed. His pissed-off growl was just fucking lethal.
He gave her a mild shake, tilting his head slightly to the left as he looked at her. “Lorin, answer me.” Behind the lenses of his glasses, his gaze drilled into hers.
There was nowhere for her to hide. “She’s adorable, innocent as all get-out,” she finally answered. “Small enough to tuck in your pocket. Men seem to find that attractive.” She’d never felt so gigantic in her life.
“She looks like she’d break if you touched her,” Gabe murmured against the whorl of her ear. “If things got a little rough.”
He plastered his body to hers, walking her backwards until the knots of the cookhouse’s wood logs dug into her back. Hot breath condensed on her neck as Gabe nibbled down to the sensitive intersection where neck met shoulder. She gasped as he settled in to suckle and nip.
Lorin locked her knees as they threatened to buckle under her. City boy had a… very talented mouth. She speared her fingers into his silky black hair, dragging his head toward hers, diving at his mouth to sample every bit of his dark flavor. When she clamped her hand on his ass, his low, rumbly growl became an audible groan.
Too many layers between them. She needed to touch him, wanted his hands on her—
“Hey, you two. Get a room.”
They sprang apart as Mike strolled out of the cookhouse, followed by Gretchen and the rest of the crew. Paige brought up the rear, locking the door behind her and offering them a subdued “good night” as she passed. The night filled with chatter as the crew walked en masse past the fire pit to the bunkhouse, finally leaving them alone again.
The air snapped and hummed like a live electrical line had dropped between them. “My cabin,” she breathed. “Now.”
His only response was a curt nod.
Not touching, they walked across the compound, picking up speed the closer they got to the cabin. As they jumped the single step up to the cabin’s wooden platform, Gabe tensed and reached for his pants. Lorin’s blood flashed to a boil. Was he unzipping his pants? Right here, where anyone could see him? She whipped her head back and forth to make sure they were alone. If he wanted to put on a show, she was more than willing to watch.
Nope, he reached for his pocket instead. Condoms? “I have condoms in the cabin,” she said impatiently. “Plenty of them. Hurry.”
Quickly opening her door, she turned back to find Gabe glaring at his Bat Phone. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered, reading the display window. When he looked at her, his expression bordered on physical pain. “It’s Elliott. I have to take this.”
Damn. Depending on the topic, Gabe could be on the phone for hours.
“Lorin…” Under the single bulb illuminating the entrance to the cabin, Gabe’s face was tight with frustration.
“I’ll leave the door open,” she whispered. “Come back when you’re done.”
“You are not leaving this door unlocked.”
“How has this alpha streak of yours escaped me for so long?” Reaching into her jacket pocket, she extracted her key ring, removed one, and slapped it into his hand.
He stared at it, then at her.
“Gabe.”
He blinked. “What?”
“The phone?” she said, indicating it with a nod.
“Shit.” He punched a button and rumbled a greeting to Elliott.
“Gabe, there are some definite benefits to going off the grid.”
He heard her, but his only response was the dirty look he shot her as he stalked to his tent.
Chapter 7
“It’s almost impossible for Lorcan to make an honest profit in the natural resources sector right now.”
A merry laugh. “Since when does honesty have anything to do with it?”
Beddoe eavesdropped on the conversation behind him while he talked with a couple for whom he’d performed a bonding ceremony at the beginning of the voyage. The financial analysts chatting too loudly behind him worked for Lorcan too. The women were TonTon regulars, and the information they sometimes spilled about Lorcan’s investments in the raucous natural resources sector had benefitted Beddoe’s personal portfolio on many occasions.
The ladies’ glasses were nearly empty. That wouldn’t do. “Please enjoy yourselves,” he said to the besotted couple, turning his attention to the women. Benna’s garment, a curve-hugging column tiled with thousands of bronze mirrored squares, threw light in all directions. Ramping up his glamour, he greeted them with courtly kisses on both cheeks, and then gestured to their vessels. “Another libation, ladies?”
“Yes, thank you,” the shorter woman said, raising her glass to her lips to empty it. A voluptuous beauty with platinum hair, Willa’s pale blue dress nearly matched her skin tone, such a close match that at first glance she appeared unclothed—no doubt the effect she intended. She cruised a talon-sharp fingernail down the chest of his dress uniform. “You take such good care of us, Beddoe,” she crooned. “Who… takes care of you?”
He had very reliable information about her erotic preferences, and the prospect of that fingernail repeatedly scoring the tender skin of his privates curdled his stomach. Beddoe schooled his face into an expression of rueful, worldly disappointment. “Ah, Willa, I’m afraid the TonTon is a jealous and demanding mistress.” Lifting her wandering hand off his uniform, he kissed her blue-skinned knuckles. His fangs tingled at the proximity of her iron-laden blood, but he’d sooner drink from a garbage scow than this one. “Allow me to convey your request to the server.” With a quick, courtly bow, he backed out of the range of that lethal fingernail.
The soft pluck of twelve strings drifted through the delicately scented air, unobtrusively accompanying conversations held in a babel of dialects. The extravagantly garbed guests availed themselves of the TonTon’s extensive collection of intoxicants, and delicacies from dozens of worlds glistened on serving platters. While the server prepared fresh drinks, Beddoe assessed the room with a critical eye. When your livelihood depended on people willingly parting with their coin, coin had to be invested first. Every detail was refined to perfection; no aspect of presentation could be neglected.
Welcome aboard. Take your ease. What do you desire? It’s yours—for a price.
Luckily for Beddoe, there was an endless stream of gamblers and sexual adventurers willing to pay a very high price for their pleasure.
Most of the guests paid absolutely no attention to the stunning panorama on the other side of the huge hull window. Ta’al was piloting the cloaked ship in a slow, circuitous route for the sightseers tonight, far enough away from the system so that features of individual planets blurred. But down on the Third, darkness sliced across the large northern land mass. In his mind, this wild territory and its preci
ous, clean water was already his. He almost had enough coin to pay the exorbitant claim stake that would finally free him from Lorcan’s yoke.
Almost.
The beacon had blipped once, very strongly, then had inexplicably disappeared. Had anyone else picked up the signal? It was just a matter of time before the quadrant swarmed with scientists, profiteers, and all manner of fortune hunters, including Lorcan himself.
He had to get down to the surface again—but first, business. Beddoe gestured his newest employee toward him. As impeccably attired as the guests he mingled with, the wildly attractive young man wore a discreet pin on his lapel indicating that he was available for the guests’ entertainment. The spoiled youngest son of a scion of industry, he still saw paying off his debt through sexual servitude as an exciting lark. Beddoe glanced at the large screen flickering on the wall opposite the hull window. Stephen, four floors below, listlessly serviced a giant of a woman with his tongue, his body half obscured by her huge, pillowy thighs.
Unfortunately, new employees’ enthusiasm didn’t last very long.
The young man approached. “Yes, Captain?” His flashing white teeth rivaled the investment banker’s reflective dress for brightness.
“Could you bring these to the ladies?” Beddoe indicated the two women. “They might enjoy your company.”
“Certainly, Captain.”
The young man delivered the drinks and engaged the women in conversation. It didn’t take long for Willa to pounce, stroking the lethal fingernail down his jacket front. The man shifted closer, murmuring to her, bending his head slightly so his hair flopped rakishly over one eye. Yes, excellent. Benna wandered away, leaving them alone.
More murmured conversation. Two nods. Negotiations complete.
As the young man leaned in for a kiss to seal the deal, Willa’s fingernail sliced through his vest lacings, continuing mercilessly south. When the young man’s eyes bulged, Beddoe’s ballocks pulled up against his body in sympathy.
Hand still on his sac, Willa tugged him to a privacy pod, the door quickly snapping closed behind them.
