The Alien Huntress Series

by Gena Showalter

  Her nipples hardened, reaching for his muscled chest, his heat. “This. You and me. Sex.” Can’t, you know you can’t.

  Tomorrow they would part, and she would not be allowed to see him again. Giving herself to him here and now would be bliss in exchange for a lifetime of anguish, yes. After the orgasm he’d given her earlier, there was no question she would like what he did to her now. Yet she suspected, deep down, that giving herself to him would also bring another layer of chaos into her life.

  Already she wanted him as her own. Was obsessed with him, really. Any more want and she might die inside, little by little, every time she wondered where he was, who he was with, and what the hell he was doing.

  She cut off a bitter laugh. Why are you tormenting yourself? Even if they could sustain a relationship after this, he wouldn’t want her. Not permanently.

  “Are you sure?” he finally asked, his voice seduction incarnate. The hard length of his cock rubbed between her legs. “I feel fully functional.”

  Le’Ace hissed in a breath as she fought another wave of sensual hunger. “That doesn’t mean anything. I’m the only woman around. Of course you want me.”

  Hot prongs of jealousy and possessiveness sliced at her. When they parted, would Jaxon fall straight into the arms of another woman? Fall into pretty, petite, unbearably whiny Cathy’s arms?

  Le’Ace bared her teeth at him.

  He blinked in surprise. “What?”

  “Nothing.” The single word was snapped and baring teeth of its own.

  Leaning down, Jaxon gently kissed her temple. His lips burned, imprinting on her DNA, proclaiming her to be Jaxon’s woman. “All you have to do is tell me to leave and I’m gone. And I don’t want you because you’re the only one around. I would pick you out of thousands.”

  A stinging retort refused to form. One minute ticked by, then another.

  His body fell more heavily onto hers, hard, uncompromising, and her knees opened wider, providing a cradle. His rugged scent encased her, seeping into her nostrils, then her lungs, then infusing with her every cell.

  “What am I to you?” she asked tightly.

  There was a painful pause. He looked up, away from her and at the headboard. “I won’t lie to you and tell you I love you. I just, I honestly don’t know what you are to me.”

  “I’m not your girlfriend.” The words were not a question and they were not for Jaxon; they were a reminder to herself. Not you, never you.

  His head tilted to the side and his gaze returned to her. Intent, he studied her. “Do you want to be?”

  Yes. Her hatred for Estap intensified as she said, “No. Of course not.”

  The sides of his jaws clenched and unclenched, as though he were chewing on something distasteful. “There’s disgust in your tone. I’m that abhorrent to you?”

  Her stomach churned into thousands of tiny knots. Did I just hurt his feelings?

  Eighty-eight percent chance his affront is genuine. His corticotropin and epinephrine levels have spiked.

  “Well?” he snapped.

  She could say yes. If she did, she wouldn’t have to find the strength to kick him out of her bedroom; he’d get up and walk on his own. They wouldn’t have sex, and she wouldn’t have to worry about the consequences of being with him. She wouldn’t have to wonder, day after day, what he thought of her. She’d know beyond any doubt that he hated her.

  Something he saw in her expression must have softened him, because he said gently, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. Tell me what you’re feeling.” He stiffened. Closed his eyes for a moment and moaned. “Good God. I just realized I’m Cathy.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He gave a wry shake of his head. “I’ve got a beautiful woman underneath me, and I’m asking to discuss our feelings and future. Hell, I want to discuss them. I’m pathetic.”

  Do not melt. Do not freaking melt. “Look, Jaxon, it’s not you. Okay? It’s me. I can’t do relationships.”

  “Like I haven’t heard that one before. Like I haven’t said it before.” Shaking his head, he began to withdraw from her.

  Unable to stop herself, she wound her arms around his waist and held him in place. His hard muscles leapt underneath her palms, as if reaching for her, needing more. She couldn’t allow herself the pleasure of this man’s most intimate touch, but she couldn’t hurt him and send him on his way, either.

  “I never told you my secret,” she said. She licked her lips, heart hammering inside her chest. Was she really going to do this?

  He merely arched a brow.

  “If I were with you, I would not be able to remain faithful.” Her cheeks heated with humiliation. Say it. Tell him the rest. “When I’m ordered to pleasure a target, I do it.” Only seconds ago, she hadn’t wanted to hurt him, had decided to open up to save him the pain of rejection. Yet here she was, throwing her words at him like a weapon, trying to cut him all the way to the bone with them.

  Better to see fury in his eyes. She did not want to see disgust. Or worse, pity.

  Jaxon didn’t recoil and his expression didn’t change. He just continued to study her. “Why?” he asked. A moment later, his eyes widened and the fury she’d wanted to see danced over his harsh features. “The chip.”

  But the fury was not directed at her; it was directed at Estap.

  “Tell me,” Jaxon demanded.

  Her lips pursed, and she nodded. “Yes. The chip.”

  “That’s rape.” At her temples, his hands fisted the sheet so tightly her head was momentarily lifted. “Who is this asshole?” His voice was taut, and she suspected he asked only because he needed a moment to calm himself.

  Le’Ace wouldn’t name names. If Jaxon showed up on Estap’s doorstep, she would be the one to suffer. She really would be ordered to kill him. So she said, “Once, I was controlled by a group of scientists and a government official. I was like their pet. Only I wasn’t fed treats and cuddled.”

  “And I bet you think the negative treatment was your fault, huh?”

  He asked the question casually, probably unaware of her secret shame. Part of her did consider the things she endured her own fault. “I stopped fighting them. I—”

  “You stopped fighting only to survive, sweetheart. They hurt you when you fight, yes?”

  Sweetheart. The endearment rocked her to the core. Over the years, she’d heard many men call their women sweetheart. Every time, her chest had ached. Jealousy had spilled through her blood. Now she was on the receiving end of that moniker and it was as wonderful as she’d always suspected.

  “That doesn’t make you weak or mean you were asking for it. That makes those men sadistic motherfuckers who deserve to die.” Pushing out a hard breath, Jaxon tangled his hand in his hair. “No wonder you hate to be touched.”

  He’d noticed? Something warm spread through her chest. “I let you touch me, and I wasn’t ordered to do so.”

  “Still. Damn it!” Curse after curse exploded from his lips, not screams but whispers, and somehow all the more powerful because of that. “Every time they commanded you to do it, it was goddamn rape.” His gaze bored into her, hot and probing. “You are not going back to those bastards, do you understand?” Not giving her time to answer, he growled, “Give me their names.”

  “The men?”

  “Yes. All of them.”

  “They’re dead.”

  “Someone controls you now. He called you. You’ve admitted it. I want his name.”

  “You’re going to what? Hunt him down? Kill him?”

  “Hell, yes. Slowly and painfully. I’ll start by flaying the skin from his bones and I’ll finish with helping him bite off his own cock. Name. Now.”

  Jaxon’s vehemence was like soothing balm to her corroded emotions. So many times over the years, she’d entertained the notion that her creators really had wiped her of her humanity. Now she could feel a well of tenderness, soft as butterfly wings. Yet the tenderness was actually killing her, she realized, br
eaking her down little by little, stripping her of the shell she needed to survive the cold world she lived in.

  I’m cruel. I’m hard. I have to be.

  Tears burned in her eyes.

  With a groan, Jaxon dropped his head. His temple pressed against hers, the most comforting of touches. “Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry.”

  “I’m not,” she managed brokenly. “I’m half machine. Sometimes my parts leak.”

  He uttered a hoarse chuckle, but the dark humor didn’t last long. He pulled back and peered down at her intently. “We have until morning. I’ll think of something, okay? I won’t let you go with that man.”

  Impossible. She knew that. “You can’t take me with you. My location can be tracked anywhere, anytime.” The very technology that made her nearly indestructible was also responsible for her agony.

  “Well, I’m not leaving without you.”

  If only. “Be reasonable.” One of them had to be, anyway, though she might wish otherwise. “We’ve known each other a few days. That kind of dedication is stupid.”

  “Is it? And we’ve known each other a few weeks.”

  “Yes, it is. And you were asleep for most of those weeks so they don’t count.”

  “Well, I’m awake now so I’m going to make today count.” As he spoke, he leaned closer, so close his mouth almost touched hers. Almost. He remained a hated whisper away.

  Suddenly panting, she licked her lips. Shove him off. You cannot afford to do this. “Sleeping together isn’t going to change anything.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But it will damn well make us feel better.” His warm breath caressed her nose, her cheeks.

  A shiver danced through her.

  He grinned. “I like it when you shiver.” His hands closed around her face, slowly, slowly, then he was cupping her jaw. “I want to make you forget every other man.” The silver in his gaze heated, steel being forged into something sharp and strong. “I want to make you like it.”

  His voice was husky, a sensual promise layered with inexorable yearning. In that instant, resistance proved hopeless. She might not recover when they parted—so what. Thinking of him with other women in the coming weeks and being consumed by jealousy—no biggie.

  Right now, the decision to be with a man was hers and hers alone. Yes or no, she decided.

  There was freedom in that realization. There was joy. Hope that she could have something pure, something right. Lord, hope was a dangerous emotion. In the end, it might very well be hope that destroyed her. Still. She could be with Jaxon and she could belong, if only for a night. Tomorrow she could regret.

  Yes, tomorrow she would worry. Tonight, she would live.

  “You already know I like it with you. I’ve never minded your touch,” she told him softly. “I don’t know why.”

  His pupils dilated, black nearly overshadowing silver. “I know why.”

  “Well, clue me in.” Up, up traveled her arms, then they snaked around his neck. Her fingers tangled in his hair. The silky strands were short yet long enough to tickle her knuckles.

  He sucked in a breath as his cock jumped against her stomach. “Hold everything. I blacked out for a moment. What were we talking about?”

  Surely not. Surely her lips were not lifting in a smile. Amusement in bed? How odd and amazingly wonderful. She rarely ever laughed. Rarely ever had reason to. Humor, like choice, was another thing that had been denied her, she realized. “You were about to tell me why I like to touch you.”

  A sheen of sweat layered his skin and desire practically hummed from his tense body. Obviously, he was fiercely aroused. But he didn’t swoop in and crush their lips together.

  He was going to take his time, she suspected. He was going to treat this like it was her first time, just as he’d done with their kiss. She melted all the more.

  Practically purring, he nuzzled his nose against her cheek. “I can’t think of the right words. I think I’m just going to have to show you.”

  Please.

  As though he’d heard her unspoken plea, he slowly lifted his head.

  Their gaze locked together, fused by fire and need. Her nipples hardened further, rubbing against the soft material of her dress. Moisture flooded between her legs. Had she been standing, she would have fallen.

  “Ready for me?”

  Suddenly incapable of speech, she nodded.

  One of his hands slid up her side, over her ribcage, and stopped at the curve of her breast. His thumb brushed back and forth, gentle, so gentle. She twisted slightly in an attempt to move that thumb to her aching nipple.

  His lips were drawn over his teeth, tight and strained. His eyes were narrowed on her mouth. “If I do anything you don’t like, all you have to do is say stop.”

  Swallowing, she found her voice. “I’ll like. Swear.” Never had she throbbed like this. Never had she felt less in control of her body, but she didn’t panic as she’d always feared. She reveled.

  This was Jaxon. This was her choice.

  “Spread your legs for me, baby. Wider.”

  She obeyed, causing the hem of her dress to ride up to her hips. Jaxon’s long, hard cock pressed against her clitoris. She gasped. He moaned. In the midst of that moan, he finally, finally settled his lips atop hers. His tongue swept inside her mouth, hot and tasting of total passion.

  When she met the erotic roll of his tongue with a roll of her own, he angled his head for deeper contact. So deep she felt him inside her fantasies. And as decadent minutes ticked past—more, I need more—his kiss became her only means of survival, feeding her body and soul, his breath filling her lungs.

  “Your mouth is heaven, you know that?” he whispered. “And my God, your body…” He cupped the small globe of her breast. “Perfection.”

  She’d been built for war more than seduction, so his words soothed a bruised feminine ego she’d always kept well hidden. Her creators had told her they’d weighed the pros and cons of big breasts and the cons had won. While men might think the bigger the better, big would have gotten in her way during fights and escape attempts.

  Jaxon gently pinched her nipple, and she gasped at the heady sensation, a lance of pleasure speeding from the hardened bud to her wet, needy core.

  “I have to see. Can I see?” His voice was strained, almost broken.

  “Yes.”

  After a final lick into her mouth, he rose. Inch by inch, he peeled the dress from her shoulders, collar, until the black material bunched under her bra. For several seconds, he simply drank in the dark lace against her flushed skin. Arousal glowed from his features.

  “Next time, you’ll have to leave the bra on.” Now he sounded drunk. “The contrast of the black against your pale, rosy skin is living art. Exquisite.”

  His praise, dear lord, his praise. But there wouldn’t be a next time. Couldn’t be. She said nothing, however, unwilling to spoil the moment. “What about this time? What are we going to do with the bra?”

  “Has to come off.” He worked the clasp and drew the lace from her, freeing her breasts. The bra soared over his shoulder, and his eyes latched onto her puckered nipples. “So pink. So mine.”

  “Yes.”

  “Last time, you didn’t like when I kissed them.”

  “I liked,” she said, “I just…”

  “What?”

  Normally she did not like attention to her nipples. “They’re too sensitive, too easily turned into pain receptors.”

  “I’ll be gentle. I swear it.”

  When his dark head lowered and his tongue softly flicked the tip of each peak, she found herself writhing against his erection. The heat. The intensity of the pleasure. Too much, yet not enough. She needed more.

  Her nails sank into his scalp. “Don’t stop.”

  “Won’t. Swear to God.”

  “Lick again.”

  His tongue immediately coasted over one before switching to the other, flicking back and forth. A moan escaped her.

  “Like that?”


  “More.”

  Using teeth this time, he softly grazed them. Drew them into his mouth one at a time and sucked, applying just the right amount of pressure.

  Again, she moaned. The ache between her thighs was constant now, not pulsing and offering her those few, sweet seconds of relief. No, there was no relief for her. Only desperation and fire.

  “Jaxon,” she gasped.

  “I’m going to strip you, baby. All right?”

  “Yes, yes.” Please. She wanted his fingers inside her. She wanted him pumping, sliding, wanted them connected. She wanted him to be a part of her.

  He fisted a handful of the dress, and she said, “I’ll help.”

  “Hell, no. Grab the bedpost.”

  “Wh—what?”

  “Grab the bedpost.” He didn’t wait for her to obey, but gently clasped her wrists and lifted, curling her fingers around the rail.

  In this position, her back was arched and her breasts were straining toward him.

  He sat up, crouching on his knees. “So beautiful.”

  When he looked at her like that, she felt beautiful. She didn’t feel like an object, a machine, a thing to be used. She was simply a woman.

  He kneaded her breasts, thumbs moving over her nipples just as his mouth had done, before once again gripping her dress and shimmying it down her waist, over her legs. A moment later, it joined her bra on the floor.

  Un-ziiip. He tossed one of her boots. A smile curled his lips when he spied the knives strapped to her calf. Velcro was pulled apart, blades removed, and a clink, clink sounded as they, too, were tossed onto the floor.

  Un-ziip. Off came the second boot. Jaxon’s grin widened as he removed another cache of artillery. A gun, a throwing star, another blade. Clink, clink, clink. “How many weapons do you carry at a given time?”

  “As many as I can hide.” When needed, she would pin her hair back with retractable knives, carry drugs in her rings, as Jaxon well knew, and use the underwire in her bra as an electrical conductor.

  “Will I find anything under those sexy little panties?” He glided his palms up her legs and sank his fingers underneath the waistband of the lace.