TalsonsNet

by Marie Harte

  Talson’s Net

  Marie Harte

  Book three in the Talson Temptation series.

  Kidnapping Rowe Trainer, co-heir to Chartrell Shipping, might not have been the smartest thing Val Talson’s ever done, but he wants answers, fast. He couldn’t have expected the beautiful little bully to be half-human, nor could he have anticipated that she could turn the tables on him so easily. She’s powerful, and he’s learned to be wary.

  His violent arousal in her presence makes little sense. Lust he appreciates, but the deeper draw to his rival baffles him. Soon he can’t think of anything but Rowe. When he finds her again, he gets more than he bargained for—attraction not only to Rowe, but to her bodyguard as well. Then add the shock of her Selection—a female Otra’s readiness to mate.

  Val doesn’t intend to give in easily. He’ll handle rogue saboteurs, Rowe’s larger-than-life bodyguard, and the idea that he’s entered the Testing, the time in a male Otra’s life when he’s ready to bond to his destined mate. As for Rowe…Val’s more than willing to give her what she deserves. And then some.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Talson’s Net

  ISBN 9781419934896

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Talson’s Net Copyright © 2011 Marie Harte

  Edited by Grace Bradley

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication June 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Talson’s Net

  Marie Harte

  Chapter One

  New Hattan, Earth Year 2110, January

  The winter weather outside on the misbegotten planet had no effect on cooling his temper. Earth could never compete with the temperate clime of Werfal 7, the Otra homeworld. He’d be there right now if it weren’t for the dickheads screwing with his livelihood—Talson Shipping. A glance around the cheap, dingy room suggested he really had reached the end of his rope. But what better place for an interrogation?

  The subject of said interrogation squirmed on the bed, her movements a welcome relief from the stagnant air of decay in the place. “Asshole. Let me go!”

  “Sweetheart, begging and pleading will go a hell of a lot further than the filth coming out of your mouth.” Valis Talson ‘Or Fal smiled through his teeth at the woman struggling against her restraints in the middle of the large bed. The seedy hotel he’d taken her to asked few questions, and the desk clerk had a remarkable sense of amnesia for the right price. “I’m surprised Fulton tolerates you all that much. It’s a known fact anything even resembling low breeding bores him to tears.”

  “Look, Talson.” Though her voice was even and slightly husky, his intriguing captive shot daggers at him through green eyes threaded with silver—eyes stemming from the intermingling of human and Otra blood. Unwillingly fascinated, he studied the exotic woman.

  The initial intelligence he’d received hadn’t indicated her humanity. He’d expected Chartrell Shipping’s wondergirl to be one of his kind. An Otra female—a tall woman with long black hair, golden skin and ink-dark eyes that turned a molten silver when impassioned. Instead, he’d captured a petite, exotic half-breed with enough sensuality brimming underneath that bluster of anger to melt the ugly paint right off the walls.

  “You aren’t the authorities, so release my hands before I feed you to my uncle!”

  “It’s Rowe Trainer ‘Or Ryi, right? Can I call you Rowe?” At her glare, he continued. “Well, Rowe, I’ve had as much as I can take from your Uncle Fulton and Chartrell Shipping. Your trading policies—if you can call them that—lack even the slightest degree of legality. You people take theft and murder to an all new level.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He snorted. Nice innocent act. If he hadn’t been so focused on the rise and fall of her full breasts, he might not have noticed the small quiver that shook her. But the tremors in her breathing told him she knew more than she was saying. He needed that information. Four months ago, he and his older brother Z had nearly fallen prey to thieving pirates at the behest of a Chartrell saboteur. Only the quick action of his brother’s mate had saved the ship and its passengers from death and worse.

  Glaring down at the stubborn little liar, he wondered when, or even if, he’d be as blessed as Z. One of four brothers, Val had watched his youngest brother, and then his oldest, find their iriu—their true loves. Yet here he was, dealing with another Talson Shipping nightmare, no closer to romance than he’d been last month, or the month before that, or the month before that…

  Because of this woman and her fucking family, he’d turned into an unpleasant bastard who hadn’t gotten laid in way too long—at least, according to his brothers.

  He sat next to Rowe on the bed, pleased at her wide-eyed alarm. Running a hand over the soft skin of her abdomen where her shirt had ridden up from her jeans, he told himself he only wanted to confuse her, to put her off balance.

  The thought that she felt like veeri silk came out of nowhere.

  “Rowe, I think it’s more than admirable to show loyalty to family. But don’t you think protecting murderers is going a bit too far?”

  “Talson, you jerk, I’m going to—” She gasped when he snaked his hand farther along her rib cage toward her breasts.

  “I think you’re beginning to understand who’s in charge here, aren’t you?” He inched his hand higher, grazing the underside of those soft, round globes begging for his attention.

  She nodded frantically, looking panicked, and he regretfully withdrew his hand from beneath her shirt. He wondered what it was about the woman that made him simultaneously aroused and aggravated.

  “Fine.” Rowe swallowed audibly. “You’re in charge.”

  “You’re in charge, Valis Talson ‘Or Fal,” he corrected, and refrained from adding, my humble master. “I want to hear you say my name.”

  “Oh, I want to say your name.” He swore she muttered dickhead under her breath, and he found himself starting to like her.

  He stared at her breasts and considered touching her again. Unfortunately, his urge had less to do with prodding her and more to do with fulfilling his desire to feel her soft skin.

  She gritted her teeth. “You’re in charge, Valis Talson ‘Or Fal. Look, I’m telling the truth when I say I want to find out who’s behind these crimes as badly as you do. We lost one of our most lucrative freighters two weeks ago due to a pirate attack in the outer rim.”

  He paused. He hadn’t heard anything about Chartrell losing a vessel.

  She apparently noted his suspicion, because she added, “I’m not lying. There was a small blurb about it in The Shi
pping News. We paid a lot of money to keep it quiet and buried it. You can access the data from my chipset.” She nodded toward the small device attached to the strap of her purse on a nearby chair.

  He crossed to the chair and picked it up. He recognized the latest newsgathering gadget worth a pretty penny and searched to verify her information, then rejoined her on the bed.

  “Damn me.”

  “I second that.”

  Feisty. Instead of annoying him, she made him want to laugh. Odd.

  He grinned and she blinked at him, her gaze shifting from his eyes to his mouth.

  “So, you were telling the truth. That’s good, sweetheart. Now maybe you can tell me what you know about Project Overhead.”

  She frowned. “Project Overhead? What’s that?”

  “Now, now. I thought we were becoming friends.” He ran his fingers along the band of her jeans over her taut belly, and she sucked in a breath. So fucking pretty. His heart raced, and to his surprise, his psychei suddenly flared. The psychic power inherent in all Otra that had made his kind feared for years on Earth wanted nothing more than to connect with Rowe.

  He didn’t like the notion. Not unless body parts were involved.

  Psychei tied the universe together, even if the humans couldn’t tap into it. The energy connected him to his siblings and family, to his clan, the ‘Or Fal. Not to some pain-in-the-ass sexpot giving him trouble.

  He glared at her, wondering if she was trying to screw him over with some weird burst of power he could feel but couldn’t quite identify. While he could communicate with his kin telepathically, his real gift lay in telekinesis. Time to use it to his full advantage.

  “Tell me what I want to know, sweetheart. Don’t make me bring out the big guns.” In a subtle warning, he used his mind to shake a picture hanging on the wall—a tacky rendition of New Hattan in all its pre-Otra glory.

  She glanced at the wall then turned a wary gaze back to Val. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know what Project Overlord is.”

  “Not Overlord, Overhead.” He scowled. As much as he wanted to treat her the way her clan had treated his, it wasn’t in his character. He’d never in his life harmed a woman. The thought alone made him ill. Yet something about Rowe tempted him to push his own boundaries. He didn’t have to hurt her to make his point. The thought of tasting her ripe lips plagued him to no end.

  Rowe had the carnal beauty of a woman who knew her way around a man. Though petite, she possessed a perfect hourglass figure, with breasts he had a hard time ignoring. She had a jaw-dropping sensuality. Pouty lips sat under a slender nose. A forest of thick black lashes framed exotic eyes. Wavy black hair fell to the middle of her back, thick and lustrous, making him want to fist his hands in it to keep her under his control. He could all too readily imagine imprisoning her by those silken strands while he sampled her honeyed mouth.

  Shit. I am getting in way too deep with this one.

  The first moment he’d seen her, Val had been entranced. And annoyed. To find that such a lovely package belonged to the Chartrells, a family rival, seemed a cruel twist of fate. Val had seen too much of the Chartrells to trust anyone who worked for them. Then to learn that the gorgeous termagant ordering everyone around in Chartrell Headquarters was none other than Rowe Trainer ‘Or Ryi, Fulton Chartrell’s niece and co-heir to the company…

  “Um, Talson?” She sounded too quiet, too innocent, and it set him on edge.

  “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  Her eyes flashed. She really didn’t like his pet names.

  “It’s just that I don’t know what you want from me. I work for Chartrell Shipping, yes. Fulton Chartrell is my uncle, yes. But beyond that, I can’t help you.”

  Val wondered at her sincerity.

  She bit her lip, and like a magnet, drew his gaze to her mouth. “I was wondering, would you undo these restraints, or at least loosen them? My wrists really hurt.”

  He blinked, nonplused that he’d actually tied the poor woman to the bed. What the hell had he been thinking? He should have simply asked for her help. She would have told him anything he wanted to know. Chartrell and their piracy connections, the rumors of insider trading, the schemes to monopolize the lanes to Werfal 6 and 7. But no, he’d thought imprisoning the poor woman might net him some answers. She’s right. I am an asshole.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, disturbed by the tears pooling in her eyes. Pools of sorrow that tugged at his heartstrings made him hurry to free her. In his haste to undo the bands holding her to the bed frame, he leaned over her body. Way too close. And forgot everything but the need to taste her.

  For a heartbeat they shared the same breath, and suddenly his mouth was on hers. He lost all thought, buried in sensation.

  * * * * *

  First he’d surprised her on the street, alone, without her usual security. Then he’d kidnapped her and taken her to this God-awful hotel. Tied up and under his control, Rowe had little recourse but to agree with the bastard. As he questioned her, she tried to figure him out, wondering how best to escape.

  The Otra-sensitive bonds restraining her wrists had been designed to prevent an Otra’s psychei from burning them. Tricky Talson. Though he didn’t need to use them on her. Regular ropes would have done as well. Her psychei didn’t particularly work on command. She had no real control over her psychic ability, hence her need to play along with the sexy, know-it-all Talson.

  She’d heard about his family, of course. Who in the space trade hadn’t? Rhenec Talson ‘Or Fal headed one of the strongest shipping empires in recent Otra history. He’d taken over seventy-five percent of the business on the homeworld. Talson Shipping, Chartrell, and several other smaller Otra companies struggled for control of the interplanetary lanes on Earth.

  Fighting to dig a foothold deeper was a daily struggle. She never stopped pushing those under her control to think bigger, broader, outside the box.

  The Talsons, on the other hand, seemed to have a lock on the industry. Four strapping sons, all warriors, like their father—gave them Otra business. Rhenec had mated with a human after the death of his iriu, giving him a leg up in most Earthen businesses as well. Considering her uncle, the head of Chartrell Shipping, was an asshole and her cousin and co-heir a jerk, she could readily believe they had work to do when it came to public relations.

  It didn’t help that the Talsons had currency, fame, and sex appeal—if Valis Talson was anything to go by. Good night, but the male brought out every hormone in her body to stand up and shout. She wanted him to scoot away, to move far back before she begged him to move closer, so that she might feel his lips pressed to hers.

  As usual, her on-again, off-again ability to manipulate minds refused to show itself. She had barely enough control to hold onto her aggravation with the heavy-handed Talson, repressing her sudden overwhelming lust. Confused and feeling betrayed by her body, she almost asked him to lean closer, to better inhale that delicious scent of his.

  Then a thought struck. Had Talson entered The Testing? If he had, it would make sense that he appealed to her on such a deep level. The Testing occurred in a male Otra’s life when he readied to take a mate. Similar to a female’s Selection, the male would emit pheromones that attracted unmated females by the dozens.

  Attributing a chemical reaction to her attraction, she felt much better about her inability to escape. Not a frail woman by any means, Rowe couldn’t help the fact most Otra looked down on her because of her weaker human blood. And most humans hated her because of her alien nature. Talson probably thought her worth little more than the dirt under his precious, pure-blooded feet.

  As if fate had taken pity on her, Rowe’s psychei flared. She leaped at the opportunity. A glance at Talson showed him fixated on her breasts, so she cleared her throat to regain his attention to her face. “I was wondering, would you undo these restraints, or at least loosen them? My wrists really hurt.” Focusing her energy, she willed him to do what she wanted and called on a few fake
tears to spur him along. She would have helped him if he’d only asked. She was a friend, not a foe. Her psychei pushed him to believe in her.

  He paused, then leaned closer, and she let out a relieved breath. He’d listened to her, falling prey to her special talent. Finally.

  Heeding the purr of her demand, he moved to release her. She hadn’t counted on her pull being overly sexual, nor had she anticipated the close proximity of their mouths when he leaned close.

  And suddenly they shared the most incredible kiss she’d ever experienced.

  Hell. He was more than good. Pure sex in its most heady form. His deep black eyes changed, a silver sheen overtaking his pupils and the whites of his eyes before he shuttered his lids closed. Lips like red velvet assailed her, stroking, caressing, stimulating nerve endings within her body she hadn’t known she possessed.

  When his tongue invaded, she couldn’t help the sigh that left her, a muted plea for mercy he didn’t answer. He groaned and deepened the intimacy, threading his tongue with hers and stroking with an expertise that would shame a professional courtesan. He licked at the roof of her mouth, teased her tongue, and then stabbed with a rhythm that simulated just how amazing sex with him would be.

  The heat of his chest warmed her breasts, making her achy and wet, despite the clothing between them and her attempt to remain in control. A few strands of his satiny black hair swept her cheek and she sighed, wanting to run her fingers through the lustrous mane. She reached for him but could only tug at her bound hands, instantly reminded of why she lay under a Talson in a place she wouldn’t have dragged her worst enemy.

  Painstakingly regaining her focus and ignoring the cascade of sensation trying to steal back her will, she molded her psychei to convince Talson to release her.

  He groaned her name and reluctantly parted from her lips. With a ragged breath, he freed her from the wrist restraints tying her to the bed frame. As he did, she could feel his massive erection pressing against her belly.