Venus Rising

by Annalise

  “Just like that?” She snorted. “Link, I’m not the only one who’s worked this case. Two other agents have spent thousands of credits—and precious time—getting membership cards and appointments, and they both came up empty. Until I went in, we had no idea there were hidden menus, where one might expect the illegal stuff to be available. It was just a fluke that I found out about it. That was right before you complicated things and bought me.”

  “So it’s all my fault?”

  Before Evans could answer, the door opened. Eric Samuels and Mark Jordan returned.

  All smiles, the men shook Link’s hand. “The general was very sympathetic to the Director’s situation. Welcome to the team, Colonel. And congratulations on your giant MegaSweeps win.”

  * * * * *

  Evans ran her finger along Link’s hand. He ignored her and walked faster. She had to run to catch him. At his hotel room door, she grabbed his arm. “Link. We have to talk about this.”

  “No, we don’t.” He slapped his palm over the door identity pad and it swung open.

  She just managed to slip through before the door whispered shut. Link jerked his hand through the fastenings of his uniform tunic and pulled it off, throwing it across the bed. “Can’t even slam a damn door.”

  “Would that vent some of your anger?” she asked.

  He turned, military fashion, and faced her. “Anger? Why would I be angry? Because you lied to me over and over again, or because you’re happy to fuck for your country?”

  “Did you like me better when you thought I was fucking for fun? Or when you thought I was fucking for drugs?” Heat ran through her, flaming her cheeks, she was sure. Her head throbbed and her veins pulsed.

  He strode across the room and cupped her face. “I liked you better when you were just a grunt like the rest of us.” His kiss was as hard and angry as his tone.

  She didn’t want to make love to a man so angry he might have no control. But she wanted to make love to him. His fingers tightened when she set her hands on his waist.

  “Be angry, Link. Be as angry as you like. But remember, we don’t always choose the path we walk.”

  With a maneuver learned at the academy, she slipped from his grasp and went to the wall of UV-tempered glass. The curtains were closed, and she touched the wall control that swept them aside. A bright object gleamed near the horizon.

  “Venus is rising,” she said softly. Her insides clenched when he sighed.

  When he encircled her waist from behind and set his mouth on her throat, she knew the anger had gone out of him as quickly as it had come. She planted her hands on the glass after he’d stripped her.

  He took her from behind, not quickly or even very skillfully, but each thrust of his hips sent him so deep within her she groaned aloud. The window fogged from the heat of her breath, the glass grew slick from the sweat of her hands.

  Then he boosted her into his arms, still impaled on his cock, and pressed her face down on the bed. His hands were hot on her hips as he shifted and settled himself.

  “Stop,” she said and he froze over her. “That’s enough. Let me up.”

  Instantly, he withdrew and she rolled over, drawing in her knees. “This is stupid. You’re angry, you feel betrayed and yet, you’re still happy to jam me.”

  A smile twisted his mouth. He set his palms on her knees and pulled. “Why should I deprive myself?”

  He was powerfully strong, but she had great thigh muscles and held fast against his efforts to spread her legs. “You should deprive yourself until you’ve figured out why you’re so angry.”

  “What are you, a psychiatrist as well as a pole—”

  She flipped quickly out of his grip, rolled and came to her feet on the opposite side of the bed. “Don’t say it.”

  “I’m sorry for that.” He ran his hands through his thick, dark hair and sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to her.

  Evans shrugged into and belted the robe she found in his closet. “We have to work together, Link, so we have to resolve this thing between us.”

  Suddenly, she felt as vulnerable as she had the day he’d left her. He had such power to hurt her. No matter how many years had passed, she could not deny the power he held over her. The power she gave him.

  Their gazes met, locked, then his slid away. He rose, stretched, ardor gone, and headed for the shower. She heard the water, felt the liquid heat of desire. Should she join him?

  Link found her asleep in the chair, legs tucked beneath her. He stroked her hair from her cheek and thought of their hard words in the Secretary’s office. But wasn’t what she’d been doing, in the name of her country, the same as if she’d chosen that profession deliberately? She’d fucked who knows how many men because her country had asked her. No matter the mission—rescuing an imprisoned AOA—still, she had sucked and fucked whoever The Palace assigned to her.

  What if Jack Elliston from base communications had taken leave at the same time and hung out with him? Jack’s father had enough credits to send him to The Palace for a bit of sex play. For all Link knew, he’d been a guest there before. What if they had gone together, and Jack had found Evans on the list of attendants? Link covered his face with his hands.

  Now, they had assigned him to the mission. His cock stirred at the thought of going there again, only this time with Evans and almost unlimited funds. Of course, the other operatives had failed to find Angel Martinez that way. Maybe because they never got to the reputed “hidden” menus of fetishes, quirks, and illegals, the one he’d never seen but Evans said existed.

  Link went to the comm panel and activated The Palace card.

  “Welcome,” the hostess said. Did he detect a touch more enthusiasm in her tone now he had megacredits in his account from his phony MegaSweeps win?

  “Menus,” he said softly, mindful of Evans, still asleep or at least pretending to be so.

  He read through the menus with growing frustration, slapping his hand on the screen, rejecting whatever he saw. Nothing even smacked of fetish stuff.

  “Stop playing, we need to search every menu tree for Angel’s face,” Evans said from behind him.

  The search was fruitless. Angel was not among those attendants available to the new, rich Link Taylor. “Why not do as Intel recommended. Go for multiple partners and work our way into more involved scenarios from there?”

  “Shut up.” He let the screen go blank. “If you’re so hot for multiple partners, I’ll get Brad up here.”

  “Your friend?” She held the lapels together at her throat. Her grin was toothy and broad. “I’d like that. I’ve always wondered if I could handle two men at a time.”

  He tried and failed to keep a straight face. “I cry uncle.”

  “Good. Now. Let’s see if we can set aside our hostilities and get to work.”

  “Yeah, good idea. Work. I can handle work.”

  “The twosome is probably a good idea. You could take me in with you. I am your possession now, and you could ask for another partner.”

  His eyes widened. “Screw someone in front of you?”

  “Ah… I think I’d actually be one of the screwees.”

  Something low in his belly tightened. Whether with dread or anticipation, he couldn’t tell. “Shit, Evans, I can’t handle this.”

  “No, the women handle it.”

  Link grinned and his cheeks flushed.

  She felt something inside her relax. As much as she was appalled by the idea of making love to Link with another woman in the room, another woman participating, touching him, she knew it was possibly the only way to get to Angel now that he’d trashed her chances of working alone.

  Although she balked at the thought, she knew the partner they should order was Grace8.

  At least Evans knew Grace8 had contact with Angel. Surely, Grace8 knew about all the hidden menus.

  Evans watched him walk to the communications console. He was a cowboy, or maybe a knight. It might be hundreds of years past those eras, but still, t
he need to ride in and rescue the fair maiden had not been eradicated. She felt more than a twinge of acid bubble in her stomach when he went back to the communication console and activated his card. Whatever happened, she was along for the ride.

  “Done,” he said.

  “What is?” she asked, her insides as tight as they’d been the first time she heard her assignment—find Angel Martinez by entering The Palace as a prisoner.

  “I did the deed. We go tonight at nine, you and me. I picked a partner for us. The youngest brunette I could find.”

  “Shit, Link, I had someone specific in mind. I should have told you I knew a woman who’d been in at least one scenario with Angel.” She wasn’t about to tell Link what that scenario had involved… or that she’d been there.

  “Too late. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking like an investigator. We are partners and I should have consulted you first. I can be such an asshole.”

  Evans looked over the appointment, then went through all the menus, searching for his choice. The hair on her arms stood up. The attendant Link had reserved was Grace8. Her hair was dark, but it was definitely Grace8.

  She wondered at this connection they had. She was in his arms in less than a heartbeat, her mouth as hard on his as his had been on hers but a few hours before.

  “Make love to me, Link.”

  But he pulled her arms from around his neck and shook his head. “If I’m going to get it up tonight, I shouldn’t be messing about now. I’m unimproved, remember?”

  “You could take one of the milder erectile… never mind.”

  “Even the milder drugs affect me, so I can’t play any games. Tempting as it might be.”

  There was a touch of acid in his tone that she couldn’t account for. Then she thought he might still suspect she had accepted the job in the brothel because she was drawn to it.

  The room felt cold. “Where’s the heat control?”

  He flipped her the room’s control device. When she caught it in mid-air, he said, “We’re only fucking when the job says fuck. Is that understood?”

  She nodded and skimmed the ball of her thumb across the control button. The curtains billowed out from the vent that supplied the heat, drawing her eye to the window.

  Venus stood high above the horizon.

  Her own Venus throbbed, aching for his touch. But she would not ask again.

  Chapter 15

  Link drew on a loose black tunic and trousers. He was almost painfully aware of Evans behind him, pulling on a bronze fabric tube that slid like liquid down her curves. The gown fit her like skin from chin to ankle. His cock stirred, so he tried to tame his need for her with a touch of ice. “Move it, Evans. And that’s an order.”

  “Actually, since you’re on loan I think I outrank you on this mission, Link, so I’ll give the orders.”

  He bowed and threw open the door.

  When Link’s newly leased, luxury PF slid to a halt in front of The Palace, Evans gulped. Her insides went hot. Her palms were damp as she smoothed the wrinkles out of the gown chosen by the Department. As thin as the fabric was, she thought the rapid pounding of her heart might be visible. It was one thing to work inside, unseen by the public, and quite another to walk in boldly through the front door.

  No, that wasn’t why her heart was racing. She had to be honest with herself. It was one thing to perform sexual acts with no one to see but the paying customer, another to do them before the man you loved.

  She sighed. “This love stuff is for the birds,” she muttered as they entered The Palace.

  This time, against all her inclination to lead, she forced her eyes down and followed Link at a respectful distance, their footsteps producing whispers of sound on the thick carpet.

  It was a new product, a pliable digitized crystal fiber whose color shifted to complement whatever lighting scheme the brothel had chosen that night. The rug looked like a glittering array of stars on an indigo sky. Just what she needed, reminders underfoot that Link was earthbound… exactly where he didn’t want to be. He might never get back to Mars if she screwed this up.

  Then she mentally slapped herself. Angel Martinez would miss a happy, healthy life if the mission failed—something far more important than the possibility of losing a planetary posting or a promotion.

  Keep the mission in mind, Evans, she rebuked herself. You have to find Angel and convince her to give up this life and go home. And if she’s here against her will, break her out.

  The stars beneath their feet reminded her that, despite the vastness of the cosmos, one small person still mattered.

  The check-in process was new to her since she’d only seen the operations from the opposite side of the door, so to speak. There was nothing to indicate that The Palace was anything but a very elegant hotel catering to the discriminating tastes of a wealthy clientele—one that valued privacy.

  They approached a sweeping counter behind which stood a woman. The expansive surface was real wood, polished to a soft sheen. On the wall behind the receptionist was a painting Evans wished she could examine at close quarters.

  Link had instilled a love of antiquities in her by dragging her to museums. At first, she’d gone unwillingly, teasingly laughed through his lessons. Later, she knew he had opened a window to another time and world for her.

  This painting looked like a genuine Desmond. In a real wooden frame. Desmond had been one of the few artists to escape the conflagration that ended the first Mars expedition over 150 years ago.

  His work would be priceless. Of course, cynic that she was, this could be a rather good copy in a rather good ersatz wood frame.

  Link placed a strategic elbow in her ribs, drawing her back to their mission.

  The beautiful receptionist greeted Link with what Evans thought was a touch too much enthusiasm. She was not an attendant. Her hair was tinted a pale green and stood out from her head in short spikes. Evans felt a stab of envy. How she missed her easy-care military coif.

  The hostess escorted Link to the lift, touching him way too often. Her hand lingered, stroking his sleeve when the doors slid apart. Evans was ignored and just made it into the lift before the doors closed. The slight twinge in her stomach was the only indication they were rising to a fuck-fest who knew how many stories

  overhead. Or was it just indigestion and nervous anticipation, and they were actually dropping hundreds of feet down into some pit, to be fed to alligators? She wondered briefly if there were any alligators still around to eat them.

  Link wrapped an arm around her waist, palmed her breast and licked her cheek. “Like the dress,” he said. By her ear, he whispered, “Love what’s in it.”

  His thumb rubbed over her nipple, peaking it against the fabric. She shivered. Something inside her started to produce a scalding liquid. An urge to squeeze her thighs together to keep that fluid from escaping and dribbling down into a giant puddle on the lift floor made her swallow a giggle. Shit, what was happening to her? A lieutenant colonel, unable to keep her mind on the mission. She no longer had the drugs to blame for her flights of fancy.

  The doors slid open. A man, as handsome as Ms. Green-hair had been lovely, stepped forward and bowed. “I am your host for this visit. Please accompany me, sir.” He didn’t even glance her way.

  They were in a section of The Palace she’d never seen. Here, as with the reception area, one’s impression was only of a fine hotel. The guests must not be permitted to realize what lay on the attendants’ side of the walls. A prison. She began mapping their progress, counting doors and paces between turns in the corridor.

  The young man escorted them to a chamber fitted with nothing except a wide bed covered by slick golden sheets. She knew that color was more a trick of lighting than anything else.

  To her intense embarrassment, the young man began to undress Link. The man was as free with his hands as the receptionist had been as he drew off Link’s tunic, and was way too solicitous about hanging the damn thing in a closet. She marked where the doors were,
for they were so perfectly crafted, they disappeared into the walls when he closed them.

  When Link was stark naked, the young man approached her, but Link held up his hand. “No thanks, I would like our attendant to do the honors.”

  The young man bowed and left them alone after holding out one of The Palace’s signature robes for Link to slip into.

  Link watched Evans pace the room. The bronze gown shimmered over every curve. It might as well be paint, the way it revealed every detail beneath. Her nipples were tight, the mounds of her buttocks sleek, their cleft clearly defined. “Settle down. You’ve been here before—”

  A disembodied voice interrupted him.

  “Welcome to our couples area. Where we aim to please. Since this is your first selection among the delights of multiple partners, we wish to offer a few suggestions to enhance your pleasure.”

  Link schooled his features into politeness and thought there could be few greater pleasures than watching Evans pace a room clothed only in a liquid metal gown.

  “Please indicate to your attendant what ‘safe’ word you will be using to end any activity that makes you uncomfortable. In addition, if you wish to upgrade, this chamber is voice activated and you have merely to say ‘upgrade’ and your wishes will be granted.”

  And debited, Evans thought.

  The door swung open after a click Evans knew well. Grace8, eyes downcast, entered the room. A Grace8 whose hair was now brunette.

  “You may look at us,” Link said.

  Grace8’s eyes widened a touch when she saw Evans, but Evans did her best to pretend all was well. She could never tell Link of the emotions boiling inside her. She had a dozen reasons Link and another woman in bed would disturb her mightily. She hadn’t included in her list this flaming heat of anger and jealousy she felt.

  To lie with a straight face was a skill she’d learned early and made good use of during various missions over the years. Now, she would be lying with her hands, her mouth… all of her body.

  “Our safe word is Venus,” Link said. Evans felt the intensity of his gaze upon her.