No Rules

by McCormick, Jenna

  The squalling stopped as the crystals instantly dissolved in her saliva, nourishing her empty stomach. Her blue eyes fixed on Alison’s face as she sucked on it.

  “She likes it,” Alison murmured.

  Fenton smiled at the picture they made, so beautiful together. “She just likes food.”

  “We have that in common.” Alison watched Ari as raptly as the little one watched her.

  “Isn’t this cozy?” a female voice said from the doorway.

  He turned and took in a tall female clad in diaphanous bloodred robes that flowed over her lush curves. Her hair was done up in a series of coils across her head. Her skin, hair, and eyes were dark, as though she spent a great deal of time on the surface of a planet. Some of the Hosta natives had coloring like that, especially the ones who spent generations in the desert city. His family had been from the northern territories and colored to match the prevailing snow.

  Fenton took Ari back. She let out a squeak of protest, and he popped another cube into her mouth, eyes trained on the door.

  Alison stood up and shook out her own skirts. “Are you in charge here?”

  “Indeed. I am Gwella, Empress of Daton Five. And you have trespassed into our space.”

  “I apologize for that, your highness.” Alison did some complicated dip, a sign of respect, he thought. Clever wench. Fenton stayed where he was, showing deference to the women as he guessed a good breeder should.

  “Under the laws established in the last space lane summit, any ship that enters our borders without authorization may be confiscated, the passengers relocated to the nearest habitable planet.”

  “As you see fit, your highness. Might I ask your indulgence in keeping our personal effects? We are far from home and there is a man hunting for us.”

  The empress made a sound of disgust. “Men, their usefulness is overstated and virtually nonexistent. No offense to your breeder.”

  Alison stroked his head like she might a pet. “None taken.”

  Fenton swallowed his pride. Ego had no place in a game of survival. Having Alison touch him so sweetly took the sting out of her patronizing words.

  “I have to say, yours is more . . . sturdy than most. Would you mind if I borrowed him?”

  “Not at all.” Fenton’s heart nearly stopped at Alison’s breezy answer. “Mind if I watch?”

  The empress actually threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, I like you. Perhaps we would be better served to leave him here to tend to your young ones while you and I get to know each other better.”

  “Sounds divine.”

  She would go and be with someone else? Share her body, just like that? Fenton reached out, gripped her arm, holding her wrist tightly. “No.”

  Both women looked at him as he rose to his full height and stared them down. Ari sighed contently, taking away from the imposing image he’d intended to cast but there was nothing for it.

  “You dare object, breeder?” The queen raised an eyebrow as though challenging him to continue on this course. He could feel the confident authority rolling off her in waves. She could have him whipped again; his back still burned, though the pain had lessened somewhat. He was sore, exhausted, and losing his composure by the second.

  “She is with me. Only with me.” He leveled his stare at Alison. “As were the terms of an earlier agreement.”

  “Is this true?” The queen assessed Alison, who still held his gaze.

  She swallowed visibly. He clenched his jaw and waited for her to make her choice.

  A millennium seemed to pass as they stared at each other. Fenton refused to blink or shift or back down in any other visible way. She’d promised him, damn it, and that was before the assassin, before she knew about Ari. He waited, watching her, willing her to understand what weighed on this decision.

  Their future. I need you. Ari needs you. Please.

  She closed her eyes and he couldn’t contain his sigh of sheer relief. They communicated better without words; he could read the meaning behind her every response.

  “Yes, I’m afraid I did.” Turning back to the empress, Alison plastered a smile on her face, though he could see the strain around her eyes. She didn’t like saying no, closing that avenue of escape. “Any of our meetings will have to be strictly . . . platonic.”

  The woman studied them. “Understood. Keeping your word is the most important consideration, second only to your offspring. Shall we sit?” She didn’t wait for an answer, simply chose a large purple cushion and lowered herself gracefully onto it.

  It had been a test, he was sure of it. And they must have passed because no one was ordering the skin flayed from their hides.

  Alison blinked as though stunned. Moving his grip down, he clasped her hand in his.

  With the tense moment behind them, the women settled into the cushions. Fenton handed Ari back to Alison and moved toward the food unit in search of refreshment.

  “Where will you take us?” he heard her ask.

  “The nearest habitable planet is mine. I fear it is not an ideal place to raise your offspring, though.”

  “Why not?” Returning with a purple decanter he’d found in the cooling unit, Fenton poured their drinks.

  Gwella frowned. “Is he always so forceful?”

  “You have no idea.” Alison grinned with mock sweetness as she accepted her drink.

  When he got her alone later, he would turn her over his knee. “I’m from a different culture, one where men make the decisions.”

  The empress mock-shuddered with obvious distaste. “I can only imagine the chaos.”

  “It’s not so bad,” he responded, then grimaced at his own lie.

  “And you are no longer there . . . why?” She smirked at him as though she knew she’d won.

  Fenton could admit defeat. “Because it is being ripped apart by war.”

  The empress’s amusement vanished. “I’m sorry to hear that. Unfortunately my society is on the verge of collapse itself.”

  “Because of the men?” Alison asked.

  “Because of greed and an experiment gone wrong. It is a long, troubling story, one I shall save for another night. I’m sorry to do this to you, but know I take my responsibilities seriously and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

  Fenton watched her rise smoothly to her feet. She nodded to them and strode out at a brisk, purposeful pace.

  “Why do I have the feeling our situation hasn’t improved?” Alison mused.

  Fenton took Ari from her. “It hasn’t, not in the least.”

  She sighed. “We have a phrase for this kind of thing on Earth. SNAFU. It’s an acronym, stands for Situation Normal: All Fucked Up.”

  Ari chewed on her fist and stared up at him as he shifted his weight back and forth rhythmically. “What choice do we have?”

  “Same as usual, bad or worse.” She rose, moved behind him. “How’s your back?”

  It hurt like the fires of hell. Just what he needed: another scar. “It will heal.”

  “Let me wrap it up for you.” Without waiting for his answer, she dug into Ari’s pack.

  “That’s for emergencies,” he protested when she withdrew sealant and a bandage.

  “What do you call this?” Taking Ari from him, she propped the baby on a low pillow and then gestured for him to lie down next to her. “Don’t make me get rough with you.”

  He reached out, stroked her jaw with the back of his fingers. “You almost left us. I could see it in your eyes.”

  She knocked his hand away and pointed to the cushion. “Yeah, well, that’s my gut reaction when guys lie to me.”

  “I never lied, Alison. I had to protect her.”

  She shook her head. “I never would have agreed to this crazy deal if I’d known about her.”

  Direct hit, center mass. To keep her from seeing his pain, he eased down onto the pillows and pulled off his shirt. It hurt more to force the words out through his tight throat. “If that’s how you feel, perhaps the empress will
still take you on.”

  Her cool hands touched the relatively undamaged skin of his shoulder. “I’m here, aren’t I? Doesn’t that count for something?”

  Sprawling prone, Fenton concentrated on his niece, who stared merrily at nothing he could determine, waving her fists as though in greeting.

  “I’m going to wash this out first, make sure there aren’t any chemicals in the wound before we close it up.”

  He heard her rummage around on the other side of the room, muttering to herself as she searched. Fatigue swamped him and he closed his eyes, not even opening them when the cool water slid through his wound like molten lava.

  Her hands were sure and steady as she knit his flesh back together, then coated the wound with the sealant and covered it with the bandage.

  “All done.” She stroked his hair.

  He wanted to shrug her off, but couldn’t. Instead he turned to face her. “She doesn’t want you. Not like I do.”

  Alison nodded. “I know. That’s why she’s safer.”

  He wanted to respond but found his eyelids were too heavy to keep up any longer. Sleep, that demanding mistress, dragged him under her seductive spell.

  12

  The assassin prowled the seedy corridors of the space station where he’d docked the suite shuttle. The tracking beacon had burnt out hours earlier, and this station was the most likely place for her and her manmeat protector to have headed. Though there had been no sign of them, he felt certain they would wind up here eventually. The waiting grated on his nerves and the buzz of conversation from the distant travelers, both those voiced aloud and the ones reverberating in his head, made him edgy.

  Luckily there was a fix for his restless distraction. He just needed to select the right specimen. Pivoting on his heel he stalked down to the lower deck, where the hopeless refugees congregated to pool their pitiful resources. A universal standard credit would go a long way with this sort.

  The smell of unwashed bodies made him curl his lips in disgust. Either the station attendant was an idiot or just didn’t care to fix the broken sani-facilities for those who couldn’t pay for a room. Still, better to select his sample here than to choose someone with connections.

  Someone who might be missed.

  A group of users huddled around a small space heater, too strung out to talk. He dismissed them immediately because G-dust addicts were unpredictable, their mind patterns too unfocused to read, too easy to control.

  Two elderly women, one distinctly humanoid and one more reptilian, sorted through a trash receptacle looking for useful tidbits. They burbled something at him as he strode by. He ignored them, as the pitiful creatures were beneath his contempt.

  He found what he was looking for beneath the crossover walkway, huddled in a filthy blanket.

  “You.” The assassin nudged the unshod foot of the young man huddled against the metal supports. He was thin, almost gaunt, but his eyes were clear of the purple streaks G-dust users developed. “How would you like to make some credits?”

  The man turned hollow eyes up to him. A surface skim revealed he was a runaway from an abusive family several sectors away. The money and supplies he’d packed for his journey had been stolen and he was here, without resources, alone and afraid.

  Perfect.

  “What do I have to do?” His tone held a rough edge from disuse. It had been a while since he’d talked to anyone. He eyed the assassin skeptically even as he imagined pulling out the bigger man’s cock and sucking it for the currency. The idea aroused his subject.

  “Does it matter?” Flashing a handful of universal credit strips, the assassin waited.

  “My name’s Marv.” The man stayed where he was.

  “I’ve procured a room, Marv. Number 617. It’s unlocked. Go inside, eat, and clean yourself. Then wait for me to come to you.”

  “You leave your room unlocked?” Marv frowned.

  The assassin moved closer, studied the beaten-down figure. “No one would dare steal from me. Go now and be ready.”

  Turning on his heel, he headed up to the commons, a small, satisfied smile firmly in place.

  His dick grew hard just thinking about what would come next.

  Who knew taking care of a baby was so much fracking work? After spending months in stasis, Ari was wound up and looking to Alison for entertainment. She couldn’t crawl yet, but she sat up and squealed and managed to slither between the cushions every time Alison put her down.

  Fenton slept deeply, a healing rest, hopefully recovering from the effects of the chemical whip. Alison left him to it as she carried the infant around the room, murmuring out loud whatever thoughts came into her head. Talking to Ari was only slightly better than talking to herself. Or dwelling on Fenton.

  She had mixed feelings about what had happened earlier. Part of her still wanted to go find Gwella and ingratiate herself with the other woman, secure her position. But Fenton had been right. While the empress seemed amused, maybe even intrigued by her, Del wanted her more. He craved her endlessly, and not just her body. Heavens help her, but being desired so strongly was addictive.

  He’d been hurt by her offering herself up for the other woman’s use. She’d heard his indrawn breath, felt those crystalline eyes boring holes into her. And she’d caved, weak-willed sap that she was.

  “Let this be a lesson to you,” she murmured to Ari, who gripped her hair in a tight fist. “Men are manipulators. Better to use them than let them use you.”

  “How is she?”

  Alison jumped at the sound of his voice. Crap, she hadn’t intended for him to hear that.

  “Heavy.” She shifted the baby from one arm to the other. “And how can something so small make such a gawd-awful mess so often?”

  “One of the mysteries of the universe.” The words were carefully spoken, utterly neutral. Cold and detached, the way he was with everyone else. She hated it.

  “Are you punishing me for trying to look out for myself? Because it won’t work.”

  “I know.” He was so calm and Zen-like and it pissed her right the hell off.

  “Come on, Del, cut me some slack. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  He didn’t say anything, just rose and took Ari from her. Her arms felt like overcooked spaghetti but she missed the little girl’s warm weight.

  “I’ve got her from here. Why don’t you get some rest?”

  “I’m not tired.”

  “Alison.” Her name was a heavy sigh, as though it burdened him to speak it. “I don’t want to do this in front of my niece. She’s been through enough, and I don’t want any more of her memories warped by our arrangement.”

  The baby cooed affectionately at him even as Alison laser-drilled him with her eyes. “Warped?” Was that really how he saw the two of them together? Or was it just her?

  He ignored her and carried Ari over to her pack and trundled through it, clearly searching for something. She didn’t know which stung worse, that he ignored her or his last shot that hit her head-on.

  “Just be aware that keeping secrets from people you love always fucks you in the end.”

  He rose, holding a brilliantly colored set of shapes hooked together like a belt for his niece. She gurgled and reached for the toy even as he scowled at Alison. “You’ve kept secrets from the moment I met you.”

  Putting her hands on her hips, she said, “That’s because I don’t love you. Right now, I don’t even like you very much.”

  No reaction, her words bounced off him as though he had some kind of deflector shield. The lack of impact hurt her more than anything else he said or did.

  “I’m going to take a long, hot bath,” she announced, though she didn’t know why.

  “Good luck with that.” He didn’t lift his gaze from Ari, who swung at the shape chain. When her meaty little fist connected, the shapes shimmered from neon to pastel and back.

  Alison strode into the bathroom, where she stopped dead in her tracks. His parting shot hadn’t sounded sarcastic, but given t
hat there was nothing even resembling a tub in the small space, his words took on new meaning.

  The space was about six meters in length and width, a perfect square. The toilet stood in one corner with a sink that folded from the wall above. Both were made from nondescript gray metal. A sprinkler type showerhead loomed above with knobs on the wall. The drain in the floor reminded her of some ancient horror movies where the victim was strung up and tortured so the blood wouldn’t muss the space. It was a horrible room.

  Alison stared at the utilitarian chamber with loathing. True, the other room had been simple in design, but the rich fabrics on the pillows had somehow blinded her to the shabbiness of it. She’d gotten used to the accommodations on the suite shuttle, but it hadn’t been all that long ago she’d had nothing but a bucket of water to wash herself with. Fenton had changed that, had given her a taste of decadence again. Hating him for that more than everything else, she grimly hung up her dress and set about the task of cleaning herself.

  A small niche held a towel but no soap. Rolling her eyes, she made a mental note to request some and turned on the lever. Her hair clumped together where Ari had gripped it with her grubby hand, coated in what had looked like baby oatmeal. She’d have given a kidney for a bottle of decent-smelling shampoo.

  “Fracking great,” she mumbled when nothing happened. The temperature in the room had goose bumps breaking out all over her naked body. Staring up at the spigot, she shouted, “Would it be too much to ask for a shower?”

  Some white, soapy-tasting chemical spewed down on her. She shrieked as it landed in her mouth and burned her eyes. To compound her misery, it was cold and she hopped from foot to foot as the deluge continued, searching frantically for the control panel.

  Male laughter filled the small space. She whirled on her heel and would have gone down on her ass if strong hands hadn’t caught her. Fenton tugged her into his bare chest that shook with amusement.

  “Shut it off!” she shrieked.

  “Already done. Quit panicking and hold still. It’s already evaporating.”