Her gaze glided over his wide, strong chest to the leather that wrapped his thick braid, where several strands of his hair had come loose. Gathering her courage, she moved a hand across the sheets toward him while wondering how he’d react, wondering if he’d respond with affection or whether he’d just ignore her. She hadn’t expected him to reject her but that’s exactly what he did. As she curled her fingers around his night-black braid, just beneath the leather band, he reached for her. Gently, he loosened her fingers and returned her arm to the other side of the bed.
After the closeness they’d just shared, it was like a slap in the face. She wanted to punch the handsome bastard right between his washboard abs and his broad chest. Instead, she balled her hand between her breasts as though it held her heart—as though it could protect her heart. Vowing she’d never again open herself to his rejection, she turned toward Jason.
Chapter Nine
Junkie sighed as he eyed the braid that was beginning to come apart, sorry that he might have hurt Lacey’s feelings when he’d pulled her hand away from it. He needed to get out of there and fix the damn thing.
He delayed leaving, however, taking one last look at her. Ignoring his natural male impulse as well as the strong emotional connection he felt for this incredibly special woman, he resisted the urge to pull Lacey tightly to his chest. He wanted to. He wanted to drag her away from the fair-haired airman and pull her into his heat, stamp her with his scent, mark her with his rough kisses. But he couldn’t do that to Jason. Even if he hadn’t been committed to seeing the mission through and getting the two lovers together, he couldn’t force himself to take anything from Jason.
After everything Orlov had been through, he deserved a chance at love and at life. A life where he finally received some sort of return for everything he’d sacrificed. A life of love and laughter, compassion and friendship. Lacey was the key to repairing Jason’s scarred heart and damaged soul. Jason just needed a little help turning that key.
And that’s exactly what Junkie was going to do—help Jason turn the key.
Inwardly, Junkie snorted. He’d never have pegged himself for a saint. And yet there he was…
Of course, saints made their sacrifices selflessly, without inconvenient twinges of regret. Junkie could hardly make that claim! Sighing, he scrubbed a battle-roughened hand down over his face and stared at the ceiling. The bitter truth of the matter was that he didn’t want to be second man in anymore. It wasn’t enough.
He was beginning to get the feeling that it was never going to be enough.
He’d thought it would be better once he saw them together, saw Lacey devour Jason with her eyes. He’d thought it would help him to gain perspective and distance himself from her. He’d thought it would help remind him that he was just in this relationship for a quick, no-strings-attached fuck. Instead he was filled with a crushing sense of loss. He longed for Lacey’s gaze to fix on him with the same intense heat she lavished on Jason, the same tenderness but more than anything he wanted to experience that look of love.
What the hell had she done to him? Where was the old Junkie? The man lying on the bed staring at the ceiling with his heart hanging on his sleeve was a far cry from the man who played the circuit with Hard and Fast. Back then things had been simple. Play music, eat, drink and get fucked every night as well as most afternoons then once again in the morning, each time with a different woman. That was before the world went mad. Before the civil war on eYona and the Grundian conflict. Before the queen decided that eYona should help the Alliance. And before exotic women of strange races started dropping out of the sky, unbalancing his world so badly that he feared the worst.
And the worst was love.
Levering himself into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress, he dropped his feet onto the cold tile floor. Again, he dragged his hands down his face and stared at himself in the mirror mounted on the wall beside the bed. He hated to even sanction the idea, let alone admit to it, but he was intelligent enough to recognize the truth when he saw it. And, in the mirror’s reflection, he saw a man in love.
As Junkie considered his sorry-ass reflection in the mirror, Lacey moved on the bed. Like a bear drawn to the luscious scent of honey, he turned his head to look at her.
“Are you cold?” she murmured, her voice loving as she cuddled more closely into Jason’s side.
“It is a bit chilly in here,” he grunted, wrapping her in a strong hug.
What happened next would have pleased Gray and his superiors no end. Lacey’s body temperature increased. Junkie could feel it from twelve inches away, creeping across the pale sheets toward him. She was warming up in response to her lover’s complaint of being cold. From a scientific standpoint, it was a fascinating new development. All Adepts could adjust to their environment and Lacey could change far more quickly than others of her race but those adaptations were meant for her own comfort and protection. The fact that she could now change in response to another’s needs or desires was big. Really big.
Junkie felt a somber tug on his heartstrings. He was pretty sure Lacey would never honor him with such a change. He could probably turn to ice before she’d raise her body temperature one degree for him. Pushing away from the bed, he stalked across the tiles and through the arch into the bathroom. There he showered alone, letting the heated water wash over his head, across his shoulders, down over his body and long braid. After cutting off the flow of water, he stepped toward the long bank of mirrors that ran the length of the marble counter and, giving a cautious glance to the arch, he untied the leather wrap and went to work on his braid.
Jason woke suddenly, covered in sweat. Lacey was in a deep sleep, purring like a cat and generating heat like there was no tomorrow. He smiled down at his little humanoid heater and disentangled himself gently, thinking he’d cool off with a quick shower.
Silently, he slipped from the bed and yawned as he crossed the chilly tiles toward the bathroom. Outside, the sky was darkening while clouds gathered on the eastern horizon. Building and raveling, they poured across the plains ahead of the evening’s electrical storm. Thunder sounded at a distance and filled the heavy air with a deep rolling boom.
Stepping through the arch into the steamy bathroom, he glanced at Junkie who stood at the marble counter. When the eYonan swiftly turned his shoulder, Jason’s gaze automatically moved to Junkie’s ghostly reflection in the mirror. With one hand fisted around the top of his long braid, he grabbed his wide leather hair band from the polished marble countertop. As he held the thick hank of hair in one hand, he used the fingers of his other to wrap the leather around it. To Jason, it seemed a fucking awkward way to get the job done. It almost looked as though he thought his braid might fall off if he didn’t hang on to the damn thing.
As Jason’s gaze drifted across the long bank of mirrors, he caught sight of his own hazy reflection. The warm feeling of well-being that had accompanied him into the bathroom evaporated at that first critical glance as he fingered the ugly jagged line of his scar and soberly considered the facts. While it was nice to have Lacey’s unconditional acceptance, he still had the rest of the world to contend with.
“How’d you get the scar?” Junkie asked as though reading his mind.
Jason turned and looked at Junkie, who had tied a towel around his waist and propped his hip on the counter, his leather hair band now securely in place partway down his braid.
Jason had never told anyone about the scar. He’d revealed a lot of his past life to his former roommate, Graham Hamm, but even Gray didn’t know about the scar. To Jason, it was a sign of how completely he’d sold himself. A mark of shame. It might not have been obvious to anyone else how he’d gotten the damn thing but any Tauran who saw it would know exactly what had caused the deep wound.
“I don’t like to talk about it,” he muttered, staring Junkie down.
“I’m ordering you to talk about it.”
“It’s not like yours,” he said after a long, heavy silence. “I
t’s not like a badge of honor. A mark of valor. Proof of my courage and strength.”
“Oh? What’s it like, then?” When Jason didn’t answer, Junkie rolled his shoulders and continued with a soft snort. “Yeah, I picked up my scars in battle. I fought in a civil war. I took a few blows. Lost a little blood. In the end, I didn’t give up much. You gave up your entire identity to save your brother. You gave up yourself, Jason—your whole life, at the age of sixteen, in a selfless act of sacrifice. And you think I’m a hero? Jason, I look at you and I feel humble.”
“You shouldn’t,” he rasped, knowing now that Junkie must have been briefed as to his history on Ibeeza. Gray definitely had his hand in this. In fact, Gray was in this all the way up to his armpits. Avoiding eye contact, he stared through the archway out at the mountains where the sky flickered with the build of electrical energy. “I only did what I had to, to stay alive.”
“That’s right. That’s right,” Junkie hissed, leaving his perch on the counter and drawing closer. “You did what you had to. And you don’t think that took courage? Jason, you’re the bravest man I know.”
Jason just shook his head.
“Tell me about the scar,” Junkie insisted, reaching for his arm and wrapping his long, thick fingers around Jason’s biceps.
“The Taurans are partial to blonds,” Jason answered angrily, moving his sharp glare to the fingers that clamped his upper arm.
The eYonan’s fingers tightened around his muscle. “How did you get the scar?” Junkie repeated in a voice like dark steel.
“Do I have to spell it out for you, Junkie?” Jason’s voice cracked. “Taurans have tusks on their dicks. They’re partial to blonds!”
Junkie only firmed his hold, waiting for the worst.
“His cock was in my mouth!” Jason shouted, his voice breaking.
“Did he do it on purpose?” Junkie asked with calm strength, his gaze flicking toward the arch that led to the bedroom where Lacey slept, his voice low to keep from waking her. “Did he cut you on purpose?”
Jason yanked away, his tangle of blond hair spilling over his eyes. His voice was hoarse with unshed tears. “What difference does it make?”
“The difference between whether he lives or dies.”
“Lives or dies? Get real, Junkie. They guy’s fucking light-years away from here.”
“I’ll find him,” Junkie said. “If it takes me the rest of my life, I’ll find him.”
Jason snorted while Junkie quietly held his gaze. For the space of three seconds he thought he’d laugh. Instead he cried. He crumpled, his shoulders shaking as Junkie pulled his head against his broad shoulder and hugged him fiercely. The eYonan’s long blunt fingers were in his hair and his rough lips against his temple as he promised him, “I’ll never let anyone touch you again, Jason. Never. Do you understand?”
Jason jerked his head a few times in rough assent.
“You’re not alone. You were never alone. You should have told that hothead, Hamm, about this. You know he would have hunted that Tauran down and given the bastard a root canal.”
Again Jason jerked his chin upward, chuckling roughly, feeling for the first time in many years that things were going to be okay. If a man like Junkie could accept him while knowing his past—and even speak of his bravery—he felt like the rest of the world…the rest of the world could just go to hell.
“And now you have Lacey…and me,” Junkie added in a harsh rumble.
Jason nodded again and finally relaxed in Junkie’s powerful embrace. It was as though a fierce connection had just been formed between them. The sort of connection that would probably last a lifetime. When they parted, they parted roughly, shoving away from each other and sharing a self-conscious grin. “Every now and again,” he offered as he leaned on the counter beside Junkie, “I’d find myself in an abusive situation. This was one of those occasions.” He touched his scar.
There were no fair-haired races among the Taurans. As a result, they hungered for blonds with a fierce obsession that could be dangerous to the party in question. Women were especially vulnerable. No blonde female was safe from a male Tauran unless marked by another man—wearing the scent of his semen. When that was the case, the Taurans were repulsed by that stamp of ownership.
“When you’re male and you’re with a Tauran,” Jason explained with a deep sigh, “you don’t dare come because they’re repulsed by the scent of another man’s ejaculate. Generally, they punish you for the lapse.”
“So this guy was angry because you came?”
Jason shook his head. “I wasn’t aroused in the least. He punished me because I didn’t come. But I’m sure he would have punished me either way. He was just…that kind of man.”
“Prick,” Junkie said with simple vicious feeling.
Jason gave him a solemn nod. It felt good to talk about it, after all the years of carrying the weight alone. He cut a glance sideways at Junkie. This time he didn’t see an arrogant, commandeering asshole. This time he saw a determined man who’d helped him to secure Lacey’s love. A man who knew all his secrets but, Jason was certain, would never betray his faith. “So, why’d you take on this mission?” he asked the lanky eYonan, guessing that, due to the nature of the mission, Junkie had probably had some choice in the matter. “What do you get out of it?”
“Me?” Junkie hesitated then gave a casual shrug. “I’m just in it for the sex.”
Jason snorted and sent him a wry look. “I didn’t think that was a problem for you.”
“A man can never get too much sex,” he answered, his smile kicking up into a grin that was positively wicked.
“Really?” Lacey’s voice cut across the steamy bathroom like a chilled knife. She stood in the arch wrapped in a turquoise satin robe that swathed her from head to toe, the large hood framing her delicate features and the vibrant spill of her red hair.
“Lacey,” Junkie murmured, his startled expression saying he’d have those words back if he could.
“No, don’t apologize,” she drawled, though a note of strain ran through the timbre of her words. “You’re only being honest. I can hardly fault you for that. I can only fault you for being a prick. Enjoy the sex while you can,” she growled then turned on her heel and strode away.
As they stood together, gazing silently at the vacant archway, Jason heard the sound of the garage door humming open two levels beneath them. She was going outside, into the storm! With a muttered curse, he raced into the bedroom then froze as a flash of lightning illuminated a woman standing on the sloping yard in front of the villa. “Jeezis Skies,” he swore. Still naked, he turned for the bedroom door but Junkie stopped him.
“Let her go,” Junkie said quietly.
“Are you mad?” he demanded, wrestling in Junkie’s powerful grasp. “She’ll die out there in the storm!”
“No, she won’t. Her Adept traits will allow her to adjust.”
“You can’t just adjust to a million volts!”
“No,” he allowed. “I can’t. But she can.”
“Fuck you,” Jason cursed, yanking free of him. “I’m going after her.”
But Junkie barred the open door with his body. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?” he shouted, his gaze flicking anxiously back to the long windows on the south wall.
“Because, unlike Lacey, you will die out there. And I won’t let that happen.”
Jason shoved at him but Junkie just wrapped him in his arms. “I won’t risk losing you, Jason. For her sake, if nothing else. So you might as well quit fighting.”
“Are you sure she’ll be all right?” he asked, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
Junkie lifted his chin. “Look for yourself.”
Jason’s eyes widened as he turned and moved slowly toward the windows. Out in front of the villa, Lacey stood in the long grass, her arms spread wide. A thick bolt of lightning raced across the black cloud-curdled sky and split into three forks that flashed down toward her. Just before reachin
g her, the lightning split again and poured around her like a crackling blue umbrella of pure energy. As he stared in awe, Jason felt Junkie’s arm hook around his shoulder and for the first time he could remember he appreciated the camaraderie of a man’s touch. “How is she doing that?” he murmured.
“I don’t know,” Junkie answered in a deep chuckle. “Pulling the blood out of her legs so that the electricity can’t be conducted through the water in her blood to the ground? Making a shield out of free electrons? Who knows?”
As they watched, she reached out her fingers as through gathering something from the air around her. Tiny webs of brilliant blue flickered at the end of her fingertips before she balled her hands then threw her arms outward. A tall pine tree on the east side of the yard exploded in a crack of noise and Jason stared as bits of bark fluttered to the ground. Sagging at the knees, he groaned out a laugh. “Oh, God. She’s beautiful when she’s mad. Isn’t she?”
Junkie gave him a wry smile. “She’d be a lot more beautiful if it wasn’t me she was mad at.”
Chapter Ten
When Lacey woke up the next morning, she was still pissed. Junkie was an ass. A very attractive, very sexy ass but an ass just the same. Snuggling up against Jason, she hid her face in his chest and fought the burn of tears that gathered at the back of her eyes. She knew she shouldn’t care either way about Junkie. After all, she had Jason who had made it clear that he didn’t want a three-way relationship. And even if he did change his mind, there was a very nice man back at Judipeao who would fit the bill quite nicely. A man who appreciated her.
“Where’s Junkie?” Jason murmured, his hazel eyes heavy with sleep as he lifted himself on one elbow and glanced at the empty space on the other side of the bed.
“Who cares?” she muttered. She’d stayed up late, outside, long after the storm had blasted its way from one horizon to the other. When she’d come in and crawled into bed, their Lord and Master was nowhere in sight. Hoping that Junkie was off somewhere feeling good and ashamed of himself, she’d curled up next to Jason without waking him.
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