by Rebecca York
He looked around his office, loving the furnishings and artwork he’d picked out. The juggler across from his desk was a genuine Picasso etching. The huge abstract on the sidewall was a Jackson Pollock. And he’d taken a very nice Salvador Dali from his father’s collection.
He’d outfitted this ship for his own pleasure and turned it into as close to a kingdom as you could get without being born into royalty. Now some of his subjects were trying to fuck that all up.
He grimaced, then pressed a button that brought up a flat-screen TV on the far side of the desk. He had a library of tapes that always soothed him. He’d watch one now.
Rather than tie one of his slaves to the whipping post. Another decision not to give anything away.
Relatively few people in the world knew who he was and how he had gotten where he was today. Those who did thought he had always had it made. But it hadn’t started out so well. Bruno had been sickly as a child. He’d eaten a lot of bananas trying to keep everything he ate from going through him. Just as his digestion had gotten better, he’d started school and turned out to be a slow learner. He’d needed endless tutoring just to get the hang of reading. His older brother Dieter had been robust and quick at his studies, and his parents’ favorite son.
He’d ached for what his brother had. The good health. The easy time in school. His charm. He’d used all of those to get what he wanted, and it had looked like he’d succeeded.
Until he’d screwed up in his early twenties, driven drunk, and plowed his Mercedes into a lady crossing the street. Papa’s money hadn’t kept him out of jail for manslaughter. And Bruno had used those two years to prove he was the model son. Dieter had come back from his prison term angry at the injustice of what had happened. And angry when he saw he’d lost his place as the favorite. Which had only worsened his position.
Papa had bent over backwards to be fair. He’d left his two sons the same inheritance. But Papa had drawn closer to Bruno, given him good advice. Which he’d taken. And prospered.
For all his early promise, Dieter had never done anything important on his own. In fact he’d made some very bad investments. Bruno had pretended sympathy and been glad to bail him out when he’d been secretly gleeful that his brother had made a mess of things. Instead of succeeding—through hard work and guts.
After dragging his thoughts away from the past, Bruno scrolled through his private film library and found one of his favorites. Called Marlene. A woman forced to service a series of men.
oOo
In the darkness, Emma felt Cole’s hands working the ties of her halter top before tossing it onto the floor.
Her own hands were no less busy as she pulled his shirt over his head, then fumbled for the button at the top of his slacks.
She wanted to experience this with all her senses, including sight, but she understood why he had darkened the room. It was the only way to make sure they had some privacy.
She ached to say so many things, but she would have to communicate in other ways. Like Morse code, only better.
When he slipped his hands into her panties and cupped the rounded curve of her ass, she felt her sex go hot and slick. When he dipped lower, sliding a hand into her cleft, she went up in flames.
His fingers glided through the slick wetness, dipping into her, circling the entrance to her vagina. Teasing her there before stroking upward to her clit.
As he felt her reaction, he made a sound of approval, low in his throat.
He leaned down to take one of her distended nipples into his mouth, sucking hard, wringing a glad cry from her lips.
She found the band at the top of his shorts, tugging them down so that his cock sprang out as she freed it.
He kicked his pants off the end of the bed. Naked, he gathered her close, stroking his fingers over her back, down her flanks, pulling her against his body.
As they rocked together on the bed, she wondered why they didn’t set the sheets on fire.
“Now, please now,” she whispered.
“Not yet. I want you molten.”
“I am.”
Easing away, he took her breasts in his hands, his thumbs stroking over the hardened tips, making her whimper with need as she arched into the caress.
He used his mouth on her again, this time teasing one pebble hard nipple with his tongue and teeth while he used his thumb and finger on its mate.
If he waited much longer to finish this, she would lose her mind. Reaching down, she closed her hand around his erection, feeling the size and weight of him, then moving her hand up and down, squeezing tightly.
He made a low, ragged sound.
“Time to feel you inside me,” she gasped.
With a growl, he rolled her to her back, clasping her to him, and she guided him into her.
They both cried out at the joining. She wanted to look into his eyes. She wanted to tell him how much she had secretly craved this, even when she couldn’t even admit it to herself.
Now she wanted to say that they belonged together—until the end of time.
But she couldn’t say it. This was too new—and unexpected. All she could do was cling to him as he moved within her, fast then faster taking her up and up to where the air was almost too thin to breathe. When he reached between them, pressing a finger against her clit, she felt her inner muscles tighten around him, the contractions like small electric shocks that spread from her sex to the rest of her body.
And as an all consuming orgasm still gripped her, she felt release grab him. Throwing his head back, he shouted out his pleasure.
She was shaken to the depths of her soul as he collapsed against her, his head drifting to her shoulder.
Knowing that her whole life had changed, she reached to stroke her fingers through his hair, then turned to softly kiss his cheek.
He shifted to his side, and they lay clasping each other for long moments. When he reached for her hand, she knit her fingers with his.
For a while Cole had carried her away to a land where only the two of them existed. But as they lay together in the darkness, Emma remembered exactly where they were. And why.
No matter how desperately she wanted to get away from this place, they had a job to do, and they couldn’t leave until they had finished it.
“Hell of a time for this,” he muttered.
“Um.” She nodded against his shoulder, fighting the need to bombard him with questions. Was he simply reacting to the tension of the situation? Or what?
He brought his mouth to her ear. “We can’t stay here too long. We’ve got to go out and explore—like we’re super excited to be in this wonderful playground.”
“I know,” she answered, although she wanted to stay where she was, safe in his arms.
“Did you say you wanted to go to the beauty salon?” he said in a louder voice. “And some of the clothing boutiques?”
“Ooo. Right.”
Forcing herself to roll away from him, she stood up and walked to the bathroom where she shrugged into one of the soft terry robes hanging on the wall.
oOo
Cole dragged in a breath and let it out as he watched Emma disappear into the bathroom. He would have liked to follow her. Tempting images of his climbing into the shower and making love to her all over again flashed through his mind.
Much as he wanted to pull her naked body against himself, he was glad of the chance to be alone for a few minutes. He’d told himself that he wasn’t going to make love to her, which had been total bullshit. Of course he’d been going to. The need for her had been building inside him like an atomic explosion. On the hovercraft, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. And just now, he’d gone over the edge like a rutting stag.
Which was all wrong for their relationship. He should have been tender with her. He should have had the luxury of some private time with her before she found out she had bonded to a werewolf.
Too bad he couldn’t ask for some advice from another one of the Marshall clan. But he couldn’t sen
d an e-mail from here. And they’d probably wonder who the hell he was if he did. He’d stayed away from his family, too. He knew that some of his cousins had gotten together and formed a pack or something like that. The idea had made him cringe. He was the alpha male in his own damn pack. And he wasn’t taking orders from anyone.
On the other hand, he hadn’t heard of any Marshall werewolves killing each other. Which must mean they’d worked out some kind of arrangement.
Could he fit in with them? Did he want to?
Maybe for Emma’s sake. He knew his mom still led an isolated, miserable life as the wife of a dominant lone wolf who made his living as a real estate agent so he could come and go as he pleased. And occasionally rob houses that he knew were vacant.
His parents relationship had been part of his reason for trying to avoid bonding. He hadn’t wanted to fall into the trap of treating another woman the way his father had treated his mother.
But he wasn’t his father. He’d proved that to himself by going to college and getting a degree in criminal justice, before joining Decorah Security.
Still, he was feeling more confused about his personal life than he ever had. And he had the terrible suspicion that Emma was going to find out his big secret under the worst possible conditions.
He cursed under his breath, mindful of the listening devices that were probably registering everything that went on in this room—and everywhere else on the ship.
Thank God they—and Emma—couldn’t listen in on his thoughts.
oOo
By the time Emma returned to the bedroom wearing one of the robes she’d found in the bathroom, Cole had pulled on the clothing he’d been wearing and was sitting at the desk looking through some of the Windward materials.
He kept his eyes on the printed material.
“I’ve been reading about the activities here. While you’re checking out the girly stuff, I’ll do some exploring on my own.”
“Yes. We should find out what we can do on the ship,” Emma murmured, trying to sound enthusiastic. “But I haven’t even checked out this room yet.” She walked to the drapes and pulled them open. Outside was a balcony which was only a little smaller than the one at Karen’s apartment. She pulled open the sliding glass door and stepped out, feeling the wind in her hair. At the sides of the balcony were metal walls that made it impossible to see the rooms on either side. The only view was straight ahead, showing a vista of blue ocean and sky.
Walking to the rail, she felt the wind ruffling her hair. When she looked down, she saw the water far below. What if the only way to get out of here was to jump? Would she survive?
She shuddered, putting the thought out of her mind.
Footsteps alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Cole came up beside her and slipped his arm around her shoulder.
She cut him a sideways look. She’d always been attracted to him. Always thought of him as a handsome guy. Now he was her guy.
Maybe. Neither of them had planned the intimacy that had exploded between them, but it was the two ton elephant in the room. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something they could deal with now. Any real discussion between them would have to wait until they got off the ship.
And then what?
Don’t think about the future, she ordered herself. You’ll have to deal with that when life is back to normal again. Or would it ever be what she’d considered normal? What about Cole’s dysfunctional family? When he shared it with her, would that influence her decision about the two of them?
“Look at that view,” he said aloud.
“Nothing to see but water and sky.”
“Yeah. That’s what I mean. We’ve left the real world, and we’ve got nothing to do but enjoy ourselves.”
“Right,” she agreed, fighting to put enthusiasm into her voice, since they probably had microphones here, too.”
He waited a beat before asking, “You ever made love outside?”
“No.”
“We ought to try it later.” He looked at the walls on either side of them. “I mean, nobody can see us.”
“Um.”
Who was speaking, she wondered. The man who had made love to her or the agent on assignment? Was he thinking he could climb down and get to some other part of the ship. Or was he just trying to project the character he was supposed to be? She had never been more confused about a relationship or more frustrated by the inability to speak openly.
Before she could respond, he turned and went back inside. She stayed at the rail for a few more minutes.
When she came back to the stateroom, he had changed into a fresh shirt and slacks. “Let’s meet back here in a couple of hours,” he said.
“How much can I spend in the boutique?”
“As much as you want on clothing. And costume jewelry’s okay. But don’t buy any gold or diamonds unless you consult me first. The last time I turned you loose, you went a little crazy.”
“Sorry.”
He headed for the door, leaving her alone in the bedroom where she quickly dressed in one of the outfits from the suitcase.
After checking the book with the layout of the ship, she slipped out of the room, feeling her heart pound. She didn’t like this place and didn’t like being alone, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her.
As she walked down the hall to the elevator, she passed a muscular brunette woman carrying a gym bag walking briskly down the hall. Incongruously, she was wearing a short robe and stiletto heels that clicked on the tile floor. She stopped at a stateroom door and knocked. A man came to the door wearing only a towel around his waist. His bare chest and shoulders were crisscrossed with red slash lines, and he had an eager expression on his face.
Emma couldn’t stop herself from staring at him.
He looked her up and down, then grinned. “Want to join us?”
Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. “No.”
“Did you come here with your boyfriend?”
She shouldn’t answer. She should just keep walking, but she heard herself say, “Yes.”
“He’s off having his own fun. So you can do what you want, right?”
She took a step back.
“Bonnie will show you a good time.”
“No thanks.”
When she turned and hurried away, she heard his laughter echoing after her.
The sound of the door closing made her grimace. She didn’t want to think about what the couple were going to do in there, much less join them, but she couldn’t stop vivid pictures from running through her mind.
She took the elevator to Deck Three, stepped out, and looked at the sign that gave directions.
The beauty salon was in one direction and the clothing boutiques were in the other.
She hated shopping, and the beauty salon was her main target, so she headed in that direction.
When she stepped inside the mauve and silver waiting room, she was confronted by two women in black uniforms, both wearing name tags. One was a delicate Asian beauty named Anna. The other was a willowy blond named Allison.
“Can I help you?” the blond asked.
Emma paused to get her bearings. She couldn’t be sure why, but there seemed to be an undercurrent of tension between the two Windward employees. Because they disliked working together? Or because they didn’t trust each other?
An older woman came out of the bathroom, wearing a smock.
“I’m ready for my pedicure,” she said in a commanding voice.
“Certainly, Ms. Davis,” Allison answered.
She and Anna exchanged glances before she ushered the woman into a private room and closed the door.
Anna turned back to Emma with an inquiring look on her face. “Can I have your name?”
“Emma Ray.”
She scanned a computer screen on the counter. “You don’t have an appointment.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I needed one. I just thought . . .”
“We may be able to work you in.”
> “What services do you perform?”
The woman handed her a glossy brochure, and she scanned the list—that included standard haircuts and color applications, complete with stunning examples of women with hair and makeup done to perfection. She also saw that she could ask for some unusual services like body piercing or even tattooing.
Improvising on the spur of the moment, she asked in a tentative voice, “Could I have my pubic hair shaved?”
The beautician didn’t blink. “Of course.”
“You’re experienced with that?” Emma pressed. “I wouldn’t want anything important to get cut.”
Anna gave her a reassuring smile. “I assure you, you’re in good hands.”
Emma looked around the waiting area. “Where do you do it?”
“In here.” Anna led the way into a private room with a table similar to a doctor’s office.
“I’ve never had that done before,” Emma confided. “It’s kind of making me nervous to think about someone using a razor down there.” She cleared her throat, “but my boyfriend said he’d like to see me that way.”
“There’s nothing to be worried about. Many women enjoy the look. It’s youthful. And a lot of men find it sexually stimulating.”
Emma examined the room’s setup, then looked down at the floor. Near the end of the table she saw a few curls of red hair, and her pulse picked up. That could be Karen’s hair. There was no way to tell for sure without a DNA analysis, but how many people had that striking color?
Anna followed her gaze and drew in a quick breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said. “It looks like this room wasn’t cleaned properly this morning. I’ll speak to the staff.”
“That’s all right,” Emma answered. “You did someone recently?”
“Yes,” the beautician murmured.
Before Emma could ask another question, they were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. They both looked up in surprise as Cole stepped into the room.
