by Marie Harte
“Think about it.” He sat across from her, unable to look away from her heaving breasts, flushed pink from her exertion. He tried to ignore how ‘opportune’ their isolation could be. “We’re away from the peacemakers. Now I can track the guilty party with you as a believable hostage.”
“Hostage?” Her eyes widened.
He nodded. “I let Sernal know I’d taken you hostage. So Rorn, if in fact he is guilty, won’t bat an eye when I eventually show with you at the selling of those abducted women. That was one part of Sernal’s plan that bothered me.”
She ceased struggling against the ties at her wrists, much to Gren’s disappointment.
“I know Sernal had some idiotic notion of using you as my partner,” he continued, “but the truth is you’ll be much more believable as a potential slave than a peacemaker turned bad.”
She simmered with outrage. “Why? Because I’m a woman and therefore not believable as a peacemaker? Or is it because you view my sex as weak, beneath you?”
“I’d like you better beneath me,” he muttered and held up his hand to forestall any rebuttal. “My suggestion has nothing at all to do with the fact you’re a woman. It’s more about who you are in particular.”
“Well?” she asked after he hesitated.
He stared at her, opening his senses to absorb that essence, that particular aura only Temis possessed. “You’re too good. Too honourable,” he said bluntly, startling her mouth into a small ‘o’. “No one who knows you would ever believe you capable of turning on your ideals. And the plain truth is, your beauty can only aid us in this mission. I can’t imagine any man turning away the opportunity to bed a woman who looks like you.”
He sighed at the return of her hostility. He removed the bonds from her wrists, not surprised when she quickly stood, probably hoping to put them on more equal footing.
“If you men would think with your head and not your—”
“But we don’t, so get used to it. I don’t know why being told you’re beautiful angers you, but you can’t hide from the truth.” He tucked a wavering strand of hair behind her ear, unable to keep from touching her.
She started and pulled back. “What was that for?”
“To remind you that you’re a woman more than a warrior, sura.”
She scowled, but beneath the annoyance lurked the hint of nerves. Her energy flared, tempting him to read her, to taste her again.
Curious, Gren stepped closer. “Maybe you need a more thorough reminder, hmm?”
He drew her protesting form into his arms, aroused by her perfect curves. Keeping a tight reign on his powers, he focused on the texture of her mouth and the sweet promise of her kiss as he lowered his mouth to sample another taste of wainu.
Temis shuddered, not understanding how Gren had done it to her again. She’d never before fallen pray to the lusts affecting her peers. By Narok’s breast, she’d swallowed his seed! Now she found herself a victim of her own needs. That Gren, a man suspected of dozens of System violations and heinous crimes, should be the one to spark her desire made her simultaneously disgusted with herself and strangely excited.
As his lips touched hers with surprising gentleness, she felt her will to resist melt under his confusing presence.
Her fingers curled against his shoulders to push him away, but instead pulled him closer.
He tasted of raw strength, of passion, and of a disturbing wildness that teased her with the pledge of unending ecstasy.
Images of Gren kissing her under a foreign sky flashed through her mind. Her sex throbbed, releasing a flood of moist desire between her legs. She clearly remembered Gren’s mouth on her sex as his tongue expertly brought her to orgasm.
Though the kiss he gave her now was gentle, it held the same heat, the same temptation of more to come.
He murmured her name while his large arms caged her protectively. Her breasts tingled where they touched the heat of his body, and she could feel his erection through his trousers. He felt like steel pressed against her stomach. By Nastor’s staff, she could almost taste the raw earthiness of the man.
Wanting to break free but not willing to end this sweet torment just yet, she shifted against his chest. Her hardened nipples brushed against his chest, held back from skin to skin contact by the sheer material of his shirt.
He suddenly pulled back, his breathing as harsh as hers.
Staring down at her with an intensely powerful expression, he traced her lips with a callused finger, the roughness of his hand at odds with the tenderness of the action.
“You see, sura? You can be both warrior and woman, and the stronger because of it.”
His voice, husky and deep, shook her. The foreign sensation of male desire made her back up a step. How can I know what he feels? Or am I just projecting the desire I can’t stop? Why this man? Why now?
“I don’t need you to analyse me,” she answered in a shaky voice. Angered at her loss of control, she sharpened her tone. “Regardless of what you think of your role in this, you and I will be partners. You’re the criminal, I’m the peacemaker. For whatever reason, Lead Sernal wanted your help finding those women. I won’t let you disappoint him or them.” She ended on a forceful, controlled note, secure in her role as peacemaker and disciplined Zeyr-trained warrior.
Gren stared at her as if he wanted to throttle her. “You, lady, are one piece of work.” His eyes seemed dangerously dark. “Fine, have it your way. I’ve tried to be nice. Hell, I’ve even tried to show you the parts of yourself you don’t want to see. But you want to call the shots? Go for it, sweetheart,” he mocked, and the endearment sounded bitter on his tongue. “I’ll find those women, and when I do, you’re going to owe me one hell of an apology. One I mean to collect,” he threatened and strode towards the control panel.
Temis watched him huff away. Despite knowing him for less than a few days, what she’d seen of him had hinted at a cool criminal, one with a sense of humour at least. But this side of Gren, the angry, cutthroat mercenary, was more of what she’d initially expected.
Bemused, she dwelled on the differing sides of his personality, wondering what the hell Lead Sernal had been thinking to ask for Gren’s help.
The ship fired to life and she jolted into a bench of nearby seats. The damned shuttle tilted at an odd angle, and she rushed to join him in the front.
“Where are you taking us?”
“We need answers we’re not going to get sitting on our asses in the middle of nowhere. Hang on.” He piloted the ship due east towards Mornio, a planet known for its rich mine deposits.
“Now shut up and don’t talk to me until we set down in Mornio, or so help me I won’t be responsible for what happens next,” he said with an ominous glare.
Pleased she’d made her point, she had no intention of riling him anew.
They spent the next few hours in silence. But for the life of her, Temis couldn’t stop wondering just what might have ‘happened next’, and why the thought of his worst made her want to kiss the scowl off his darkly handsome face.
Chapter Five
Temis and Gren successfully ignored one another for the duration of the trip to Mornio. Once they landed, however, Temis couldn’t help asking the questions that had been building.
“Why Mornio? Why did you land here, of all places, when we’re trying to keep a low profile?”
She looked through a portal at the seedy little town of Reykhold, Mornio’s infamous port town. It was popular reading material for Mardu’s peacemakers, a sterling example of what they worked so hard to prevent happening on their own planet.
Mornio’s rich mine deposits attracted huge numbers of criminals bent on plunder and power. She shouldn’t have been surprised by Gren’s familiarity with Reykhold, yet he seemed a step up from the scum that normally frequented the town.
“Right now you need me a hell of a lot more than I need you. This is my world, Temis.” Gren spoke without heat, the ice in his expression alerting her to be extremely wary. “
Do what I tell you when I tell you and you’ll get out of here unharmed. Play with me and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
He opened the shuttle doors and strode out without a backward glance.
Steamed, Temis followed intending to set him straight when he stopped suddenly, causing her to ram into his back.
“What—” she began when a large shirt hit her face.
“Put that on.”
She noted the clothing stand they’d stopped in front of, as well as the older Mornian studying her with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”
“I said put it on.” Gren turned to face her after saying something to the man in his native tongue. “Unless you’d rather showcase your breasts to the rest of Reykhold?”
She stared down at her torn shirt and flushed with embarrassment. Furious, she threw the shirt on. Gren’s face didn’t soften at all, and she began to see just how he’d earned his reputation. He seemed wholly untouchable, his emotions locked under the cold, cruel demeanour that now encased him from head to toe.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Molesting me in public. You tore it in the first place,” she muttered, earning a frown. Secretly pleased she’d managed to rile him, she waited for him to explain where they headed.
Instead, he nodded to the old man then continued down the road towards the more crowded centre of town.
The reality of Reykhold was far worse than the vids she’d studied. Finished red Mornian steel filled the town, making the village a bloody scene of gluttony and filth. The roads were dusty, a pale yellow reminder of what the raw steel of Mornio looked like before it melted.
Peopled with races from every planet, Reykhold served as a conglomeration of the desperate and greedy. Slavers and merchants comingled, no one reviled in a town filled with the underbelly of the system’s richest planet.
As they passed vendor after vendor, coming closer to the actual storefronts in the shopping centre, she noticed the growing number of looks thrown their way.
“Gren,” she said in a low voice, but he ignored her. “Gren,” she said louder and grabbed his arm to stop him.
He turned around. “What?”
“People are staring.”
“I know.”
“You know?” When he turned to continue, she latched onto his forearm again, uncomfortably aware of the tingle that spread down her arm at the contact. “That’s it. You’re going to explain a few things to me now. Right now.”
Gren’s eyes seemed to glow from within, a startling flare of emerald annoyance as he took a step closer, pinning his chest to her breasts. “A slave has no say against her master, and direct disobedience is handled promptly, without question.”
She opened her mouth to ask what the hell he meant when he hoisted her over his shoulder and swatted her behind with a whack loud enough to be heard down the street.
Her slap met several snickers and outright laughter from those around them, and she hit whatever part of Gren she could reach. Unfortunately, he held her with arms of iron, and pounding his back was like pounding a steel slab. When she tried kicking at him, he smacked her again, then followed with an uncomfortably warm caress that sucked the breath out of her.
To her horror, he pushed her trousers down, exposing her ass. He slid his fingers between her crack and further, over the embarrassingly wet lips of her sex.
“That’s right, sura,” he purred as he continued to walk down the street. “Relax and ask no questions. The less you know the better. And if you think to keep fighting me, know I’ll strip these trousers completely off you and give the people on the streets more of a show than what I’m doing now.” He shoved one finger, then two, inside her and kept them there.
She froze, completely stunned at her body’s response to his touch. That Gren could so manhandle her in public, and that her body apparently liked it, made her question her sanity. An image, a flash of Gren’s mouth between her legs, popped into her mind again and she wondered what, by Norak’s breast, was happening to her.
Her mind sifted through the facts and strange memories she’d had since meeting Gren, working in a frenzy to make some sense of his seeming manipulation of her mind and body. Something wasn’t right, and the tense coiled sensation in her loins proved it. Her reaction to Gren was anything but normal.
He started thrusting his fingers inside her, faster and deeper. He pinched her clit and she moaned, determined to ride though this, whatever this was. She wouldn’t let him have the upper hand, wouldn’t let him… “Gren, stop. Please,” she begged, and cried out when he pulled an orgasm from her right there on his goddamn shoulder.
* * * *
Finally, the damned woman stopped fighting and sagged into an orgasmic bliss. Gren withdrew his hand from her pussy and licked his fingers clean, well aware of the attention he drew. People would talk, and they’d tell one and all he had his peacemaker well and truly bound.
What he wouldn’t give to have her really bound.
Swallowing his disappointment, he pulled her trousers up to cover her magnificent ass. He walked with purpose and wound around Nikos, a popular tavern, to a back stairway.
Jora was guarding the entrance, as expected. Gren nodded a greeting and waited for the large man, a native of planet Ragga, to give him entry. Raggas were the best in security, and worth their weight in currency. Not many could outmuscle a Ragga, and Jora was no different than his inhumanly strong countrymen.
After a careful study, Jora grinned and punched in the appropriate codes on the security panel then stepped aside to allow Gren entry.
“You’re all secure,” Jora rumbled before stepping back to guard the stairwell. “Facilities are working. Enjoy.”
Gren took the steps quickly, glad the beks he’d spent to safeguard this hideaway had finally come in handy. He punched in the key code and waited for the door to open to his two-roomed cubby.
He waited at the entrance to the darkened room, conditioned to always expect the worst. He entered only when his senses told him the room was indeed secure. That Temis continued to lay serenely over his shoulder pleased him. At least now he only had to worry about her in the relative safety of this room. After securing the lock behind him, he flipped on a nearby light and set her on her feet.
Temis wavered before finding her balance. She glanced around her in bemusement, still silent, though he could feel her seething, no doubt about his less-than-gentlemanly treatment.
A large bed, locked chest, scarred table and scattered chairs were all that occupied the room, with the exception of the built-in wall storage common in Mornian buildings. A small lav sat off to the corner behind the room’s only other door.
Temis’ gaze eventually returned to him. Instead of the fiery glare he’d expected, she fixated on his hands.
Not sure what that meant, Gren waited for her to speak. He wondered just how far she would try to push him this time, and if he could control himself enough not to throw her down on the bed and fuck her until she begged for mercy.
It had taken all his control on the shuttle not to show her how criminal he could actually be. The little peacemaker pushed his buttons like no one else ever had. After all he’d been through to help the peacemakers on this disaster of a mission, and she had the gall to accuse him of wanting to engage in criminal activity?
He’d lost his first vacation in years, been beaten unjustly, and thrown away his first taste of Thraian passion. The knowledge that Temis reacted to him, that she could be his for the taking while she ranted and raved at him made him burn with the desire to fuck her until neither of them could speak.
His Theshan senses constantly reared whenever near her, teasing him with the idea of enthralling her, of chaining her to his side until he tired of her delectable body. He felt the temperature rise, could feel his cock hardening at thoughts of Temis at his command.
Shaking his head, he glared at her, almost wishing he’d never met her. Almost.
“What is this place?” she asked in a soft voice, her violet gaze fina
lly rising to meet the heat in his face.
“A safe place, for now.”
She blinked and stepped back, away from him, as if sensing the precariousness of her position for the first time. Then, apparently realising what she’d done, a hardness settled over her face and she straightened.
“I want you to tell me what’s going on, Gren. No more excuses. I want to know what you’re planning. Now.”
Her hands settled on her hips in an authoritarian stance, and against his better judgement, Gren found himself admiring her courage. Her determination to control the situation and him finally penetrated his irritation, and his lips curled into a grin before he thought the better of it.
“You do realise I can do anything to you in here, and no one will come running?” he asked in low voice, the threat he’d intended buried under his amusement.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m shaking with fear.”
“You’re not afraid at all, are you?”
“I can handle anything you throw at me,” she said coolly, her hands on her hips. She closed the distance between them. “And if you don’t start answering my questions, you’ll take what I throw back.”
He groaned with frustrated laughter and sank down into the bed. “I can’t believe fate would be so cruel to stick me with a woman like you instead of the vacation I deserve.”
She grimaced. “Like it or not, fate definitely has a sense of humour. Trust me, I’d much rather be working with my peers on this than a man I don’t trust and frankly, don’t like.”
“You like me well enough when my lips are on you though, don’t you?” he asked slyly, pleased at the pretty blush that stole over her cheeks.
She cursed under her breath and made fists at her sides.
His earlier good mood restored, he relented enough to tell her, “You want explanations? Fine. Pull up a chair and listen without interruption.” He waited until she sat, her brows set in that stubborn line he was coming to know all too well.
“After you peacemakers beat the hell out of me, for no justifiable reason I might add, I did some thinking—in my cell. I knew Sernal hadn’t turned on me, so that meant Rorn was the problem. Sernal mentioned bad peacemakers; Obviously Rorn is a suspect.”
