by Ivy Barrett
“So the Protarians decimated the planet they were so determined to annex.” She shook her head, saddened by the senseless loss. Mal Ton was right. The worst of the fighting had taken place before her birth. The war had always seemed unreal to Cassie, a tragic chapter in Protarian history.
Mal Ton nodded. “It happened gradually, but no one can deny the result.”
“Have you both been alive for the entire war?”
“Yes.” Fane didn’t elaborate.
“I wish I’d known this before. You’re way too old for me.” She tried to lighten Fane’s mood with her jest, but his emotions remained muted. “So why did the Stilox want you dead? No, go a little further back. Were you born on Protaria, or are you Stilox like Mal Ton?”
“I was born on Protaria, in a secluded village high in the Faundi Mountains. My people were primitive, far more interested in pleasing our gods than amassing possessions. My father was chief defender. He taught me how to access the vision world and control my abilities.”
“Then you had powers before…”
“The mutation intensified my gifts, but I was a ‘sorcerer’ long before the war reached our village.”
An occasional spike of anger or frustration hinted at how hard he was fighting to conceal his emotions from her. She understood his reluctance, but it made her sad. After all they’d shared physically, she wanted him to trust her with his emotions. The realization brought her up short. Why would she want him to trust her with his feelings? They weren’t lovers, not really. They were… passing time until her tasks were complete.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “Please continue.”
“The war was dragging on and, as you mentioned, the planet needed for the mass relocation was being torn to shreds.” Fane paused and mutant light flashed in his gaze. “The Protarian leaders needed a creative solution and they needed it fast.”
Mal Ton picked up the tale. “They developed the lentavirus, hoping it would devastate the population without damaging the land. The virus was too fragile in its airborne state and it incapacitated its victims so quickly they weren’t able to spread it to others. So they refined the virus and focused on another strategy.” Mal Ton took a deep breath and rushed on. “They wanted to target adults, not children, and utilize an attack we wouldn’t anticipate.”
“That’s where I came in, or rather my people. The Protarian leaders threatened to destroy our village and confiscate our land if we didn’t cooperate with their scheme. They held our women and children hostage and turned our men into…” Fane averted his face as rage surged through him, one moment of scorching anger then the artificial calm.
“The Faundi tribe was naturally resistant to many diseases that killed other Protarians.” Mal Ton picked up the story as Fane’s words trailed away. “This was one of the reasons the Protarians ‘recruited’ them. They didn’t seem to be affected by the lentavirus.”
“But Fane’s genetics mutated.” Fane stared off into the distance, so she spoke to Mal Ton. “He had to be affected at some point.”
Fane sharply turned his head, drawing her attention. “We became carriers. They used our bodies to smuggle their weapon behind enemy lines.”
“Actually, it was even more despicable than that. As you’re probably aware, sexual frenzy is programmed into the lentavirus to help facilitate its spread. The Faundi warriors were altered. Their sex drive was heightened and their pheromones amplified, making them extremely attractive to others.”
Understanding unfurled within her and she shuddered. “Each time they had sex with someone, they infected them with the lentavirus.”
“They had no choice,” Mal Ton insisted, his gaze on Fane. “Not only were they stimulated to the brink of insanity, each time they refused a mission one of their loved ones was murdered.”
“Kill a stranger or kill someone you love? It isn’t much of a choice.” She reached for Fane’s hand as he retreated deeper into his isolation. He allowed her touch for a moment then shifted position, taking his fingers just out of reach. Her heart ached for him, yet she barely imagined the horrors he must have endured.
“We were the first to mutate.” Fane’s voice was monotone, as expressionless as his face. “Paranormal abilities were common among my people even before the virus started rewriting our DNA.”
“I saw Fane in action while I was tracking him,” Mal Ton told her. “His mutation had stabilized and he was pretty damn amazing. That’s when I realized I couldn’t kill him.”
“Instead he turned me over to a team of doctors and scientists who didn’t treat me a whole hell of a lot better than the Protarians had.”
“You survived the lentavirus. We had to know what it was about your physiology that kept you alive. We were dropping like flies.” Fane didn’t reply, so Mal Ton went on. “Combining elements of his immune system with technology they’d developed for warriors like me, our scientists were able to create an inhibitor, and eventually a counteragent that neutralized the virus.”
“They also spread our mutations to the Stilox population.”
“You don’t know that.” The frustration in Mal Ton’s voice told Cassie they’d had this conversation before. “Everyone who survived exposure mutated to some degree.”
“But those treated with the Faundi serum mutated faster and underwent far more drastic changes.”
His control slipped, revealing a glimpse of his overwhelming shame. “Oh, my God, do you blame yourself for the whole damn war?” She scooted to the edge of her seat and grasped both his hands. “That’s ridiculous. You were a victim in all this, not—”
“I was a catalyst, an accelerant. Without the Faundi, they might never have found a way to spread the virus.”
“They would have found a way,” Cassie insisted. He didn’t pull his hands away, but his mental shields were stronger than ever.
Mal Ton shook his head and pivoted back around. “He does guilt so well. I’ve given up trying to talk him out of it.”
Her stubborn nature compelled her to try to reach beyond Fane’s emotional defenses. His convictions might place him on the opposite side of the conflict, but their connection was undeniable. “Did you willingly participate in any of it?”
Fane’s fingers gently squeezed hers as he searched her gaze. “Do you honestly believe one word we’ve said?”
His question surprised her. Why did he presume she was so callous she’d doubt their story? “What do you gain by lying about the past? I’ve seen the devastation with my own eyes and I know we developed the lentavirus. No one denies it. I was directly involved in refining the counteragent.”
“You’re Chancellor Howyn’s daughter. It would be a spectacular coup if we could convert you to the rebel cause.” His gaze intensified, possessive yet caressing. She released his hands, uncomfortable with the sudden change in his demeanor. He caught one of her wrists before she could retreat and pulled her toward him. “We answered your questions, sweetheart, now it’s time for you to answer mine. Your new project is being guarded like a global treasure. We’ve never encountered security this tight before. So tell me, Dr. Myer. What are you cooking in your lab?”
* * *
Nehalem jerked her hand out of her husband’s grasp and took a step back. “Don’t paw me! You gave up the right to touch me a long time ago.” They’d left Howyn’s office in hostile silence and shuttled to this rundown hotel on the outskirts of Old Towne Sanctum. She only had the broadest idea of what he expected her to do and she wasn’t anxious to hear the details.
“You’re my wife,” he snapped, reaching for her again. “Nothing can change that.”
She twisted away, hoping her glare concealed her pain. “I meant so much to you that you stood idly by while I was thrown in prison. Do you have any idea of the indignities I suffered in that place?”
“Your actions landed you in prison. I had nothing to do with it.”
Arguing with him was pointless, had always been
pointless, but her seething emotions demanded release. She clenched her fists until her palms stung and imagined a world-class temper tantrum. She’d scream and smash the furniture as she called him filthy names. The outburst progressed no further than her imagination, however. Indulging her anger would reveal how deeply she’d been affected by his betrayal, and her position was already too vulnerable.
“You could have stopped it,” she said softly, consciously releasing her hands.
He shrugged, his indifference nearly pushing her over the edge. “And you could have remained faithful to your wedding vows. You chose to use that beautiful body to ferret out information for Max. Now you’re going to do the same for me.”
She had his undivided attention for the first time in years. The irony made her want to scream. Her affairs and her association with Max had been designed to attract Bryson’s attention. And it had all been in vain. He didn’t love her, had never loved her. She was a possession, something for others to covet, to admire but never touch.
With a frustrated sigh, she pushed away the past and focused on the present. Fucking mutants was infinitely better than returning to prison. If she managed to reignite her husband’s lust in the process, so much the better. Her physical appeal was her only weapon and she’d learned to use it ruthlessly.
“Do I have your word you won’t send me back to prison as soon as you have what you need?” Bryson was old-school military. Honor and respect were important to him. If he gave his word, chances were good he’d keep it. A good chance was the best she could hope for under the circumstances.
“This will be an ongoing operation.” He slipped off his uniform jacket and laid it over the back of a chair. “You should remain useful for some time to come.”
“That didn’t answer my question. Once you’ve catalogued all the mutant powers you can possibly use, what happens to me?”
“That’s up to you. I can set you up in a secluded location and provide for your needs or you can relocate. I have no interest in you physically, so I’d suggest relocation.”
His casual statement incited her determination. She hadn’t met a man yet who could resist her charms. She understood the power of sexuality and wasn’t afraid to use it. “When do we get started?”
“As soon as my lieutenant returns with your costume. You can’t walk into a mutant bar in a prison uniform.”
“Do we have specific targets or will any mutant do?”
“You’ll see.”
Her costume arrived a few minutes later and Bryson updated the chancellor while she changed. The skin-tight mini-dress had an antique zipper running up the front and left little to the imagination. She buckled the high-heeled sandals on and smoothed the supple material over her hips. There had been no undergarments, so the transformation didn’t take long.
“Now what?”
Lust blazed in Bryson’s eyes as he looked her up and down. “We go find ourselves some mutants.”
“Mutants?” A shiver of fear rippled through her excitement. What exactly did he have in mind?
“We don’t have time for you to seduce them one at a time. You’re going to be the life of the party.”
Her mouth went dry and her stomach knotted tighter with each step she took. They left the hotel behind and headed into the heart of Old Towne. The dilapidated buildings and piles of trash made it hard to believe they were on the same planet much less in the same city. The sun had just begun to set, casting eerie shadows over the deserted street.
“Team A check in,” Bryson spoke quietly, as if he were muttering to himself. “Copy. Check in team B.”
Of course he wouldn’t attempt this alone. Bryson never went anywhere without security. Would he let them watch her fuck the mutants? A secret thrill sped along her spine. She could imagine his men, highly trained and disciplined, watching her, wanting her, imagining themselves in the place of the mutants. It added a decadent layer to an already brazen situation. The life of the party, indeed.
“Here we go.”
He ushered her into a bar set slightly back from the street. She blinked into the dimness as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. The air smelled of stale liquor and sweat. A row of patrons lined the bar, far more men than women. Small round tables were scattered about and holographic arcade machines were situated against the back wall of the oblong room.
“See the man at the end of the bar?” Bryson nodded in the general direction.
“The one with the jacket across his lap?”
“Yes. He’s our first target.”
“Why him?”
“His face came up in the database. He’s telekinetic.”
She looked up at Bryson, confusion knitting her brow. “How did you know he was going to be here?”
“I didn’t. My corneal implant is transmitting everything I see to the surveillance ship. They just ran him through the database.”
“All right. How do we play this?” She wanted to control the situation as much as possible, but she might have to defer to Bryson until they were in a less public place.
“We’ll tell him I like to watch. That’s all he needs to know.”
With a stiff nod, she headed toward the man at the end of the bar. She caught his attention long before she reached him. His gaze moved boldly over her body as he raised his glass for a long swig of beer.
“You’re a long way from home,” the mutant said as she slipped onto the stool beside him. Bryson stood behind her, staring down the younger man over her head.
“What makes you say that?” She crossed her legs, causing the dress to ride up nearly to her crotch.
“You’d stand out in any room, but your husband is even more conspicuous.” He looked past her and met Bryson’s gaze. “What brings you to hell, General?”
Bryson placed his hands on her shoulders, his grip firm and warm. “If you know who I am, surely you can guess what I’m after.”
The mutant’s gaze swept down to her breasts as he said, “If my wife had a taste for mutants, this is the last place I’d bring her.”
“But my wife and I have come to an agreement. She can indulge her taste for mutants as long as I am present for the encounter. I won’t interfere. I just need to ensure her safety.”
“Really.” He finished his beer and slid the glass toward the opposite side of the bar. “You’re a lot more understanding than I’d be.”
“If she insists on behaving like a whore, I see no reason I shouldn’t be entertained by her behavior.” With sudden aggression, Bryson grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. “Look at her. Can you deny she’s beautiful?”
“Oh, she’s definitely fuckable. I just suspect the price would be higher than I’m willing to pay.”
Bryson reached around and pulled on the zipper, revealing the luscious curve of her breasts. “All I ask is that you treat her like the slut she is. She likes it rough and she likes it over and over. Don’t you, dear?”
His warm breath teased her ear and the mutant’s gaze began to glow. Her scalp stung and her eyes teared, but her body didn’t care. Heat pooled between her thighs and her pussy ripened. Max had trained her well, taught her to respond instantly. She was a sexual being with a powerful appetite. Only by embracing her true nature could she hope to control her circumstances.
The mutant shifted on his stool, obviously uncomfortable. She licked her lips, drawing his gaze to her face. “I have a hard time being a proper wife, so we’ve learned to compromise.”
Bryson tensed against her back. “Spread your legs for him, wife. Let him feel your soft, wet cunt.” Her surroundings dimmed as she gazed into the mutant’s eyes. She turned toward him and moved her legs apart, anticipation speeding her pulse. “Go on. Touch her. She loves this shit.”
The mutant reached out his hand then pulled it back. “Is this really what you want?”
She ran her fingers from her knees to the hem of her dress, a sexy smile curving her lips. “Why don’t you find out?
”
With obvious hesitation, the mutant slipped his hand between her thighs. His fingertips brushed her damp folds and he sucked in a ragged breath. She rocked her hips, rubbing herself against him.
“Don’t be shy.” Bryson grabbed the mutant’s wrist and pulled him closer. “Feel how snug she is, how eager for cock.”
The last of his uncertainty vanished. He pushed two fingers into her passage as he crawled off his stool. She wrapped her legs around his hips and rested her feet on the seat he’d just vacated. His hand pumped between her thighs, his long fingers stabbing into her pussy.
“Fuck, she’s hot,” he whispered.
“Tyler, take this upstairs.” The bartender motioned toward the staircase in the back corner of the room. “You know I don’t allow this shit on the main floor.”
“Sorry.” Tyler pulled his hand out from between her thighs and put his fingers in his mouth. His lids drooped as he savored her essence. Then he grasped her upper arm and pulled her off the stool. “Come on.”
“Wait.” Bryson stopped him. “Grab some of your friends. Show her a really good time.”
Nehalem ran her hands up Tyler’s chest and smiled into his eyes. “I like my men powerful. Do you have any friends who qualify?”
“I know what you’re after and I know just the guys to satisfy your craving.” Tyler took them to one of the bedrooms on the second level. His movements became stilted as he turned toward the door. “I’ll be right back. Please don’t leave. We’ll make it worth the wait.”
“We could really use a shifter,” Bryson muttered once they were alone again. “What do you think the chances are he’ll come back with one?”
“Slim to none.” She walked across the room and examined the bed. It was old and squeaky, but the bedding looked clean. “Besides, the more powerful the ability, the harder it is to absorb.”
“How many mutants have you fucked?” Bitterness flashed in his dark eyes. Despite his claim of physical indifference, his gaze lingered on her breasts with unmistakable longing.
