* * *
Krysta stared at herself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. The shirt Trey had given her fastened up the front. She didn’t know what to call the fastening but it reminded her of the plastic zipper used on food storage bags.
She folded back the sleeves and glanced at her legs. The shirttail hem left an awful lot of skin exposed but that was probably just what he wanted. What was she going to do? No, that wasn’t really the question anymore. The monitor blinking from the metal countertop took that choice away. She was going to have sex with Trey Darrin.
How in creation was she going to get through it? That was the question. She felt queasy. The walls undulated and she trembled. Splashing water on her face only made her skin feel hotter so she snatched up Belle’s monitor and returned to the main room.
Rubbing the smooth surface of the monitor with her thumb, Krysta scrambled for alternatives. She could tell Trey what Hydran had done. She laughed. He worked with Hydran. They probably planned it together. Trey had watched Hydran infect Belle with the virus, why would he care about this?
A slow, burning ache curled through her torso. She shivered and her nipples gathered against the shirt. Krysta closed her eyes. Sensation expanded within her. She knew this burn—this painful throb.
Her eyes flew open. Libidium. Hydran had given her Libidium. Damn him! Damn them both. As if Belle wasn’t enough incentive, Hydran had made it that much easier for his good buddy Darrin. She had to think of something. Trey would be back any minute, expecting her to be submissive and willing.
Stashing the monitor in the bookcase near the bed, she welcomed the heat, reveled in the stimulation. Control! She wouldn’t submit to Trey Darrin’s desire, she’d use his magnificent body to satisfy hers.
She recognized his authoritative stride and quickly sat on the foot of his bed, crossing her legs. The shirt bunched, revealing her long, toned thighs.
“I brought you a uniform and some…”
He missed a step, nearly tripping over his own feet. She smiled, tilting her head just a bit. “And some what?”
“Blish.”
He sounded choked and breathless. He held two mugs in one fist and a dark blue uniform bunched in the other. Ignoring the uniform, she took the mugs from him then handed one back.
“What is blish?” She kept her tone soft, purring.
He was too busy devouring her with his eyes to answer so she tasted the beverage. It was sweet and spicy with just a bit of citrus tang. “Delicious. Are both mugs for me? You’re not drinking.”
His paralysis was almost comical. The hunter had no idea how to be the prey. Feminine power surged through her, magnified by the Libidium. She raised the mug and drank, assessing him with her gaze while the blish rolled across her tongue. “We both know why you brought me here.” She tossed the mug aside, her gaze never leaving his. “I want to feel your hands on my body.”
In one smooth motion, she unfastened the shirt, letting it hang open from her shoulders.
“Oh gods, Krysta.” He dropped the uniform and set his mug aside. “Don’t do this to me,” he groaned.
He reached for the halves of the shirt, meaning to close them no doubt, but she intercepted his hands and pressed them over her bare breasts. “Touch me. You know you want to.”
“Hell yes, I want to, but not like this.” He pulled his hands out from under hers and stepped back. She didn’t cover herself. There was power in her nudity and she wielded it ruthlessly.
“Not like what, Mr. Darrin? What’s wrong? Does my body not appeal to you now? Am I being too resistant?” She snapped the last word like a whip.
“What did he do to you?”
The fever burned higher. She trembled and squirmed. Licking her lips, she pressed her thighs together and glared at him. “He put Belle in stasis. He can kill her with the push of a button and he’s promised me he will—if I don’t please you.”
Hesitantly he reached for her. His expression offered compassion and tenderness.
She twisted away.
“I had no idea,” he said earnestly.
“And I suppose you knew nothing about the Libidium?”
“Libidium? What’s that?”
She snapped the shirt closed and crossed her arms, rocking on the balls of her feet. “Can’t you guess?”
He launched into a string of alien curses. His disgust seemed genuine but Krysta didn’t care. She needed relief and Belle wasn’t available to help her disperse the chemical. She was losing control and there was no way he was going to watch it happen. “Get out!”
“What?”
“Get away from me. Now! Get the hell out!”
He didn’t move fast enough. She pushed him toward the door. He called out a word, activating the portal, and she shoved him into the passageway.
* * *
Trey rushed through the ship, restless—furious. He felt like a fool. Thinking back on their conversation, Hydran had all but drawn a diagram. Trey should have done more to prevent this abuse. He should have… He didn’t know what he should have done. He just should have done more.
She wasn’t going back! He wouldn’t allow her within a light-year of that maniac. Trey stomped down the corridor, enjoying the noisy thud of his boot heels. Closing his hand into a tight fist, he launched one bruising punch at the alloy wall then braced his hands against it as the sharp pain drove away his anger.
What was he going to do? There were so many variables. The only edge they had was Hydran’s trust in him. But how could he protect Krysta without jeopardizing that fragile advantage? One thing at a time. Where the hell was Vee? Trey found the Mystics in the lounge, their heads bent in conversation.
“Master Vee, may I have a word with you?” He made no effort to hide his irritation.
“Speak.”
“You may prefer my words in private.”
“Mage Gerr is aware of your frustration with me.”
“My frustration with you?” Trey snarled. “Implying the problem is mine?” Damn, but he wanted to brawl. Too bad Vee was an old man—an old man who could incapacitate him with a thought, but that was beside the point. “You scanned her. Why didn’t you realize what Hydran had done?”
Vee stood, stepping out from behind the table. “I sensed no sedative. Is Krysta unwell?”
“It isn’t a sedative, and yes, she’s unwell. Meet us in the infirmary and shift into a form appropriate to the role you’re about to play.”
“She will know I am a Mystic,” Vee warned.
“Not if you’re as clever as you think you are. She doesn’t know our technology. There will be lots of unfamiliar things in the infirmary. Grab something and make her think it’s a sophisticated scanner. She’ll never realize the cleansing pulse is actually coming from you. Choose a shape and make this work.”
* * *
Krysta stood at the viewport, adorned in the dark blue uniform, her arms clasped behind her back. Trey waited for her to turn but she didn’t move.
“What has he promised you?” Her voice sounded cool and composed but he didn’t believe it. She was in control for the moment, but she could only drive herself so far on pride.
“I would think that was obvious,” he said softly. “You’re the prize. You’re the incentive. You’re what keeps me interested in the game.”
That made her turn around. A rosy flush colored her cheeks and the swirling of her eyes was inconsistent. She was still under the influence of the drug.
“If I’m the prize, then what’s the game?” she asked. “Can anyone play?”
His gaze narrowed and he fisted his hands to keep from touching her. More than anything in the universe, he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. Tell her he would protect her, promise she would never have to see Hydran again. But Trey wasn’t sure he could keep that promise so—for now—he continued the masquerade. “It’s a high-stakes game. How will you afford the ante?”
“If I’m the prize, wouldn’t I be able to match all bets?�
� She moved slowly toward him, her gaze locked with his. “It seems to me you can allow Hydran to control you so you can have me or you can have me willingly if you help me—destroy Hydran.”
He chuckled. “Intriguing offer, but it’s not quite that simple.” Gently taking her hand, he led her toward the door.
“Where are we going?”
“To the infirmary. I want to make sure the Libidium is entirely neutralized.” He knew she still suffered from its effects, but it was less humiliating for her if she thought he didn’t. “When I touch you, I want to make sure I inspire your response, not some chemical.”
“You’re never going to touch me again unless you help me take down Hydran!” She snatched her hand from his.
Trey reacted instinctively. He grabbed her under the arms and pressed her against the wall, her feet well off the floor. “Don’t threaten me. You’re not in a position to negotiate much less spout ultimatums. I can do whatever the hell I want but I generally choose not to.”
Krysta charged into the infirmary only to come skidding to a halt. An elderly man, in a leaf-green jacket and black trousers stood near a treatment table. She shuddered. Too many of her days had been spent in rooms like this.
“This is Master—er, Masterson, Mr. Masterson. Vee Masterson.”
“Should not that be Doctor Masterson?” the older man asked, his tone stiff and formal. He looked at Krysta and smiled. “Most just call me Vee.”
He had the most unusual eyes. Solid like Trey’s, but instead of the fathomless black she sometimes found disturbing, Vee’s eyes shone like highly polished emeralds. His wavy hair gleamed snowy white, the style simple and short. The more she studied his angular features, the harder it was for her to guess his age. At first glance, she’d thought him perhaps sixty but his skin was smooth.
This was wrong. Something about him was wrong. Everything about him was wrong. Her gaze darted to Trey. “I feel fine. I want to go back to my room.”
“Vee isn’t going to hurt you,” Trey said.
He stood near the door, his arms crossed over his chest, stretching the fabric of his white shirt. Heat suffused her skin. She licked her lips. Did he do this intentionally? Pose his body so his muscles bulged and rippled? The ache deep within her intensified.
“If any trace of the chemical remains, he’ll neutralize it. You don’t need to be afraid.”
She turned back to the “doctor” and scanned him, trying to determine his true purpose. Her mind slammed into something so tangible it knocked her back a step. “What are you?” she cried.
Vee’s gaze shot past her, one brow arched. “Commander, I told you she would know.”
Stepping back, she positioned herself so she could see both men without turning her head. Uncertainty tightened within her. What did this mean? What was she supposed to know?
“Krysta, let Vee help you.”
Her gaze returned to Vee, but her vision blurred and she could hardly think past the pounding of the blood in her veins. “But he’s—wrong.”
Trey’s arm caught her around the waist as she swung toward the door. “Take it easy.” He held her as Vee approached. “He won’t even touch you. It will just take a minute.”
Vee’s presence moved through her mind, light, agile, amazing. Krysta stared at him. She had never felt anything like it. His being swept her from head to toe, easing the ache, soothing the restlessness. Even Belle’s mental touch was clumsy by comparison.
“What are you?” she whispered.
“I am your friend. The chemical is neutralized. You are well.”
Krysta watched Vee walk from the infirmary, transfixed by the grace of his movements. Weakness swept over her, melting her strength, buckling her knees. Trey caught her against his chest. She leaned against him, accepting the strength of his arms, the simple comfort of being held.
“What does he really look like?” After a long moment, she eased away from his chest. “Has he ever allowed you to see?”
Trey didn’t know what to say. How had she known? Was this little prophet a shapeshifter as well? His brother Tal had earned his Master-level status as Vee’s apprentice so Trey knew a thing or two about Mystics. Only shapeshifters could sense shapeshifters.
“Vee’s appearance isn’t as different as you think.”
She turned to face him, dislodging his arms from around her waist. “Why don’t you like him?”
“Because he likes himself enough for both of us.”
She laughed. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”
“Just a personality conflict. Vee is so extraordinary he sometimes finds it hard to see the value in those not equally gifted.”
“If Vee is so extraordinary, why do you need me?”
She had a quick, intelligent mind. He should have been expecting the question. The thought that she connected him in anyway with Hydran had become repulsive. Trey had to tell her the truth, but how far could he trust her? She hated Hydran, would do anything to see him destroyed. And Trey had to have accurate, objective information. Krysta was not the only occupant in The Center.
“I’m not who Hydran thinks I am.” That was as far as he got.
Dro Tar came barreling into the infirmary, proudly modeling her new Operation Hydra uniform. “Well, what do ya think? Gerr said the—oh shit.”
“Yours was the voice I heard in the shuttle.” Krysta moved cautiously toward the other woman. “Are you a spy? You must be. I know all the orderlies.”
“Not all of them, sweet cheeks. Orderly Dro Tar Nex reporting for duty.”
Trey wanted to strangle her but she did make a very convincing human. She had toned down the wild arrangement of her hair—somewhat—and to his everlasting relief, she had already donned her bright blue eye film.
“Are you guys spying on Hydran?” Krysta sounded undeniably hopeful. “Why? For whom?”
Dro Tar glanced at him for guidance. He made a helpless gesture, praying his friend’s tendencies toward pathological lying would finally do some good.
Grinning impishly, Dro Tar asked, “May I please tell her the truth, Commander?”
“I would expect nothing less from you.”
She slipped her arm around Krysta’s shoulders and smiled at him. “Why don’t you go see if we can find some peace and quiet in the lounge,” Dro Tar suggested meaningfully. “Maybe gather some blish.”
He shot her a don’t-push-me-too-far glare, but did as she asked. Two crewmembers graciously vacated when he told them his passenger was on her way. Everyone on board understood the masquerade. Dro Tar led Krysta in a few minutes later and he knew he would never know what nonsense Dro Tar had concocted in those short moments. From the devilish slant to her smile, he suspected he didn’t want to know.
“That’s all fascinating, but you were going to explain why you’ve infiltrated The Center,” Krysta reminded her.
“Have you ever heard of the PC for FE?”
They joined Trey at a small round table. “The Planetary Coalition for Free Enterprise?” Krysta asked.
“Yes.”
Where was Dro Tar going with this? All he knew about the PC for FE was that they employed Randolph Tor Meter. He handed Dro Tar a mug of blish, anxious to hear her tale.
“Well, the PC for FE has heard rumors and accusations about Operation Hydra for some time, but we were never sure how to accomplish a full-scale investigation without having Dr. Hydran shield the true scope of the operation.”
Oh, once she went to work, Dro Tar was truly an artist. Trey handed Krysta a mug and wrapped his hands around the other. Then he just nodded thoughtfully from time to time.
“When the Symposium contacted one of our operatives, a Mr. Tor Meter, he brought the inquiry directly to me.”
Trey choked on his blish. She must have told Krysta that she was the director of the PC for FE or some high-ranking official. Dro Tar pounded him on the back but went on in a theatrical whisper. “We contacted Mr. Darrin here. His real name is Trey dar Aune, but we didn’t want him to be
recognized you understand.”
“Of course.” Krysta’s gaze took on a suspicious cast. Was Dro Tar overdoing it? “So does Mr. dar Aune work for—”
“Actually his correct title is—”
“Just Trey,” he cut in sharply. “Let’s leave titles out of it. I work for myself, but I’m assisting the PC for FE with their investigation of Operation Hydra.”
“My enemy’s enemy is my friend,” Krysta quoted softly. “You know I’ll assist in any way I can.”
Dro Tar pushed her mug back across the table and blew him a kiss. “I’m sure Lord dar Aune is relieved to hear that.” She winked at Krysta and said, “What we need, darlin’, is detailed information and I’m late for work.”
She breezed out of the lounge and Trey closed his eyes. Dro Tar loved parting shots and this one was a beauty.
“Lord dar Aune?” Krysta took a quick sip. “Is that supposed to impress me?”
“It got your attention, didn’t it?” He watched closely, judging her response.
“It means nothing to me. Hydran gave me a monitor displaying Belle’s vital signs. Knowing Hydran, it’s probably bugged. So watch what you say in your cabin.”
“Where is this device?”
“In the bookcase by your bed.”
“My cabin scanned clean after I incinerated your clothes. He isn’t using it for surveillance, but I’ll have the techs check it for a homing signal. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“It seemed like the right thing to do if we’re no longer enemies.”
“I was never your enemy.” He captured her hand, stroking her knuckles lightly with his fingers. “I’d have thought you’d figure that out long before now.”
She pulled her hand away and picked up her mug. “You don’t need to do that anymore. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
Taking the mug from her hand, he held it out of reach. “Think about what you just said. Hydran set me up to have anything I wanted from you and I—”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. You’ve treated me with nothing but kindness.”
He smiled at her subtle sarcasm and gave her back the blish. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I had a part to play and I may have enjoyed playing it a little more than I should have, but I’m one of the good guys.”
Operation Hydra Page 7
