by Aubrey Ross
“He got away with an entire shipment.” Kwinton shook his head, obviously distressed by his incompetence. “I don’t think it ever left Wirtanen.”
“If we find the serum, we’ll find Nicay.”
“We have to be careful. We can’t risk drawing attention to the lab.”
Nothing like stating the obvious. “Can I trust you with this task or do I need to take care of it myself?”
Determination ignited within his eyes and Lopeka wanted to laugh. He’d fly off to Wirtanen convinced the opportunity presented him with way to vindicate himself. The truth was Lopeka sensed the enemy closing in and she refused to get caught in the crossfire. If Kwinton could silence Nicay, wonderful. If not, she would silence Kwinton.
“I’ll leave in the morning. I won’t fail you again.”
“Good.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking everywhere but at her. “Is there something else?”
“The serum is losing its effectiveness. I barely noticed a difference after my last injection.”
“I told you the effects are temporary. You build up a tolerance each time you shoot up, and you shoot up more often than you should.”
“I… Apprehending Nicay would be easier if I were operating at full strength.”
“What do you want? Just say it.”
“Can’t you infuse me directly? Just this one time, so I can complete this mission.”
Direct infusions had been necessary in the beginning, but they’d optimized the serum and made direct infusions obsolete.
“If you don’t respond to the serum, you won’t respond to a direct infusion.”
“How do you know?” Desperation sharpened his tone. “I’m willing to try.”
“Of course you are. You’re not the one who will feel fatigued and sickly for the next week. Take another dose of the serum and go find Nicay.”
His hands clenched and unclenched. Hostility burned in his eyes, but he inclined his head. “I’ll see you when I return.”
“If you return,” Lopeka whispered under her breath.
* * * * *
They wouldn’t arrive on Wirtanen for another three hours. Miranda had tried to reestablish her link with Nicay twice, but her efforts had been in vain.
The easy rapport between Drake and Jericho amazed Miranda. After a string of curses and a short period of grumbling, Drake had accepted the fact that they weren’t going anywhere without Jericho’s help. She still didn’t understand the flares of hostility. When they weren’t threatening to kill each other, they got along quite well.
“Were you able to enjoy any of the room’s amenities or has Drake kept your nose to the grindstone for the past two days?” Jericho lounged in the pilot’s chair. He swiveled around as he asked the question and crossed his booted feet at the ankle.
“We managed to strike a balance,” she told him.
“Did you enjoy the simulator?”
“That’s none of your damned business,” Drake snapped.
“I’m not sure about that. She looks a little pale to me.” He shifted his gaze to her face and went on, “How are your energy levels? If your shields slip while we’re sneaking around on Wirtanen, you could give us all away.”
“What do you know about her shields?”
“She radiates mystic energy like no one I’ve ever encountered. Anyone with the slightest sensitivity can feel her coming.”
Offended by the charge, Miranda poured energy into her shields. “What do you feel now?”
“Nothing, but how long can you keep it up?”
“As long as I need to.”
“I’m not willing to take that chance.” He unfastened his safety restraints after confirming their position on the navpanel. “My abilities are minimal and Drake’s barely exist. However, we both make fantastic feeders because of our ancestry.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Drake snapped. “We don’t have mystics in our ancestry.”
“Why did your mother keep this from him?” she asked Jericho.
“It isn’t just Mom. Both our parents are highly sensitive.”
“You’re full of shit.” Drake swiveled back around and stared at the main viewscreen. “You know how they feel about mystics.”
“Yeah, supernatural abilities are evidence of tainted blood and corrupted DNA. Mystics are prone to crime and ruthless manipulation. Isn’t that what you were taught?”
“They’re not that bad.”
“Actually, that’s true. Their supposed prejudice against mystics is all an act. Mom and Dad were running black ops before either of us was born. They weren’t sure how to balance their need for secrecy with the inquisitive minds of their children.”
“What did they do?” Miranda asked, fascinated by this glimpse into Drake’s formative years.
“They told me bits and pieces, never dreaming I’d object to their hypocrisy.”
“You left because father disapproved of your friends and refused to sanction your marriage,” Drake objected as he turned to face them. “You were running with prostitutes and smugglers. And that woman… You turned your back on your family for a relationship that lasted less than a year.”
“Dawn was an excuse to disentangle myself from their grand deception. I never had any intention of marrying her.”
Drake stared at him for a long time, his features shaped by confusion and resentment. “I don’t believe you.”
Jericho ignored the cutting remark and continued his explanation. “Rather than risk another disaster, they chose a vastly different strategy with Drake. They denied their abilities entirely and allowed long-standing prejudice to take root within his mind.”
“Mystic abilities aren’t that unusual,” Miranda objected.
“Not on Temple-Tuttle. But on Halley Prime, it’s a completely different story. People who have mystic abilities are met with mistrust and scorn. They have been since the outpost was established.”
“So they pretend they’re…normal?”
Jericho nodded. “And their dishonesty reinforces the prejudice.”
“That’s irrational.”
“When has prejudice ever been rational?”
The implications shocked Miranda. She understood exactly what he was talking about. She’d been subjected to the hostility he described.
“Is Ritter part of this?” Drake asked.
“Ritter is the prefect’s lapdog. He’s mostly harmless, but he keeps his fingers on the pulse of the mystic community and reports everything he learns back to VinDerley.”
“My God, this is disgusting,” Miranda said.
“I agree. The most amazing thing is they find ways to justify it, at least in their own corrupt minds. VinDerley is protecting his wife and son. Ashton’s ability to negotiate is dependent upon the parties not realizing he’s sensing their emotions and so on.”
“That’s no excuse,” Drake said.
A strained silence followed as Drake and Miranda soaked it all in.
“So, there you have it.” Jericho smiled. “I’m not quite the bastard you’ve been led to believe.”
“My mind is buzzing,” Drake admitted. “All these conversations are running through my memory, incident after incident where they twisted my thinking. I can’t believe… No, that’s the problem, I can believe. I do believe.”
“That’s the first step.”
“What’s the second?” Miranda wanted to know.
“Convincing someone else that the bullshit is wrong.”
“There has to be something more we can do.” Drake shook his head. “The council just implemented all sorts of new policies. Their approval rating has never been higher.”
“Support for the outposts was desperately needed,” Jericho mused, “but the reformations have just begun. I honestly think we need to wipe the slate clean and start over.”
“You don’t mean…”
Jericho laughed at her shocked expression. “I’m suggesting a recall of the current council, not assassinatio
ns.”
“Good.”
“Can we get back to the original topic now? Do you need to feed or not?”
Miranda licked her lips. Her link with Nicay had drained her more than she’d expected. Long range links were always tricky. Still, her levels were far from depleted. “I’ll be fine.”
“And if she’s not fine, I’ll be the one to feed her,” Drake insisted.
Jericho glanced at his control panel, then said, “We have two hours and nineteen minutes before we walk into hell. Are you really willing to risk her life to keep me from touching her? I’ve been a feeder long enough to assess her need.”
“You’re a feeder?” Drake sounded revolted. “You literally offer your energy to any mystic who wants it?”
“Hardly. I have a close circle of friends who benefit from the richness of my energy. I don’t want to fuck her, you idiot. Well, I don’t just want to fuck her. She’ll be safer if we top off her tank.”
“What a charming analogy,” Miranda grumbled.
Releasing his safety restraints with a clatter, Drake pushed to his feet. “Is any of this true?” He stalked toward her as he waited for her answer.
It took a moment for her to muster the courage to meet his gaze. “Are you asking about the cover-up or the other thing?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Which do you think? Will you benefit from another feeding?”
“Yes.”
“And will you benefit more if you receive energy from two separate donors?” She tried to look away, but he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you want Jericho to fuck you?”
Panic welled within her, yet lust was hard on its heels. “I don’t want him the same way I want you.”
“How do you want me?”
“I don’t think she’s suggesting positions,” Jericho interjected.
“I understand that,” he replied without breaking eye contact with her. “Just this once, and only because you’re in danger.”
“All right.” Holy shit, had she just agreed to fuck them both? Anticipation shoved to the front of her emotional line, filling her with anxious energy. “How are we going to…what did you… I’ve never done this before.”
“I know.” Drake framed her face with his hands and covered her mouth with his. The kiss was slow and sweet. Tenderness infused each slide of his lips. “I’ve been aching to continue your training,” he whispered against her parted lips. “Are you ready for the next lesson?”
“Yes, Sir,” she breathed the words into his mouth, unsure if he wanted Jericho to realize the nature of their relationship.
“Then undress for me.”
“Is that wise?”
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I weren’t confident we had plenty of time.”
The ship was largely automated. Sensors would alert them to any danger and announce their approach to the outpost. Jericho sat in his chair, silently watching her fidget. Drake returned to his seat beside his brother. His expression was grim, but his eyes were warm.
She raised her hands to the decorative buttons at the front of her blouse. The men followed her motion with their gazes. They were so similar in appearance, there was no doubt they were from the same gene pool. Drake appeared more distinguished, even in casual clothes. Jericho’s hair was longer, accenting its tendency to curl.
“I think she could use your help,” Drake said. “If we wait for her, we’ll be orbiting Wirtanen before we see her panties.”
Jericho had no objection. He approached her with a confident stride and moved behind her so his tall form didn’t obstruct Drake’s view. His fingers were steady and fast, working the row of buttons in a flash and lowering the side zipper on her slacks.
“Kick off your shoes, doll,” he urged as he slipped her blouse off her shoulders. She did, and her pants soon joined her discarded top.
“Leave the panties, but get rid of that bra.”
Jericho obliged and Miranda shivered. He had a way of skimming his fingertips across her skin as he moved. They brushed down her arms and across her torso, along her ribs and between her breasts. Her nipples gathered and tingled and he hadn’t even touched them yet.
“Touch her through her panties, while you suckle her breasts. The object of today’s lesson is anticipation, so don’t let her come.”
With a nod of understanding, Jericho angled her so Drake could see them both. Jericho splayed his fingers against her back as he bent to her breasts. She dropped her head back on her shoulders, and her hair swished against her bare skin. His mouth was firm, his tongue swirling as his lips drew her in. Knowing Drake watched every move only heightened her arousal. Was he turned on by the sight or did jealousy eclipse his desire?
She lightly touched his mind, meaning to answer her own questions. He welcomed her with shimmering threads that curled through her and wrapped around her. Safe and secure within his mental embrace, she responded more freely to Jericho.
Pushing her fingers into his hair, she pressed against his face. He released one nipple and moved to the other breast as his hand descended. He cupped her mound and rotated the heel of his hand. She wiggled, needing a more specific stimulation.
“Always in a hurry,” Drake chided. “Let the sensations build. Enjoy each one fully; don’t rush on to the next.”
Jericho turned her and pulled her back against his body. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his erection against the small of her back. He covered her sex with one hand and worked her nipples with the other.
“She’s already soaked her panties.” As if to illustrate his claim, he slid his middle finger into the damp slit separating her nether lips. She shuddered and closed her eyes.
“You do not have permission to come,” Drake reminded sharply.
“I know!” she cried.
Up and down, Jericho rubbed against her clit. The material was no barrier against the teasing friction. Tension built and cream flowed, humiliating in its profusion. It would be so easy to just let go!
Suddenly his hand was gone and her eyes flew open. Drake stood before her, a pleased smile bowing his lips. “Very good. Clasp your hands together behind Jericho’s neck.” She started to turn around, but he stopped her. “No. Like this.” He guided her hands up and back until she was able to entwine her fingers behind Jericho. Her back arched, thrusting out her breasts. “Very nice.” He knelt in front of her and Jericho went back to work on her nipples. Oh, this was bad. Four hands to torment her, two mouths to tease her, and she still didn’t have permission to come!
Drake dragged her panties down, and she stepped out of them. He raised them to his face and inhaled her scent. On any other day, she would have cringed at the action; today, her pussy throbbed and her pulse raced.
“I want some more of that.” He placed his hands on her hips and bent toward the apex of her thighs. “Move your legs apart, love. Give me some room.” He didn’t lick her immediately. He explored with his fingers, sliding easily in her slick folds. “So soft.” His finger pushed up into her vagina. “So damn hot.” He pumped twice then added a second finger. “Jericho, feel free to join the fun.”
Jericho unhooked her hands and moved them to Drake’s shoulders. Drake’s fingers slid in and out of her cunt, rocking her up onto the balls of her feet. Jericho was only gone a moment then she felt his hands brushing up and down her spine.
“Has she required discipline?” He touched the silken skin on her ass.
“Ask her. I’ve got better things to do with my mouth.” His tongue pushed into her sex, expertly locating her clit. Miranda gasped then sighed as she finally received the caress her body had been craving.
“Have you had your first spanking, doll?” He squeezed both cheeks as he waited for her answer.
“Yes.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“I didn’t want to, but he cheated.”
“How did he cheat?”
“He used his fingers.”
“Like he’s using them now o
r like I’m about to use mine?”
She couldn’t think with Drake’s tongue circling her clit and his fingers reminding her how wonderful it felt to have something to squeeze. Teetering on the brink of release, she pressed forward, trying to increase the pressure on her clit.
“Answer the question.” Drake pulled back so he could speak and the wave of sensation dissipated.
“Damn it! I was almost there.”
“You don’t have permission to come,” Drake reminded her.
“You are so cruel.”
“I’m just getting started,” he said with a sexy smile. He moved back to his chair and motioned her over by crooking his finger. “I want your mouth, but I think Jericho wants to spank you.”
She bit back an objection, reminding herself how wonderful it had been the night before. Drake knew more about her pleasure than she did. All she had to do was trust him. Drake held out his hand and she moved forward.
“Bend over my lap and rest your forearms across my thighs.”
She bent over and moved her legs apart, offering Jericho her ass. Her hands clenched into fists. This was likely not the last time her ass would be offered to Jericho. Drake stroked her hair and her back as Jericho slipped his belt free from his pant loops. It was a woven mesh, not synthleather as she’d first feared.
“Relax,” Drake said. “I suspect he’s even better at this than I am.”
A moment after she released the tension in her muscles, Jericho swung the belt. It snapped against her skin with a shocking sting, more localized and intense than the sensation created by Drake’s hand. She gasped and struggled. The hand stroking her hair suddenly held her in place.
“Feel the burn, absorb it into your body.”
After the panic subsided, she realized the sting left behind an insidious heat. It crawled through her flesh, spreading fire in its wake.
“Ready?” Drake’s hand resumed it’s stroking.
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Knowing better what to expect, the second lash passed more quickly into heat. Jericho aimed each strike with expert skill, kissing a different area of her tender flesh. Her bottom burned and her pussy throbbed more persistently than ever before.
“May I come?” She moaned as an especially sharp lash spiked her arousal.
