He didn’t want to say it, but he was beginning to think the old Nirali Classer had been scrapped the second the bastards had gotten their hands on it. But Rian wouldn’t give up until he got the Imojenna back.
So instead of doing respectable not-a-space-pirate things like cough-illegal-cough-salvage and cough-contraband-cough-cough-supply-runs, he’d burned more than a small amount of fuel searching the outer systems and central systems for any sign of his cousin’s ship. And it was always nice to return to Wyl’s bar to find the same-old, same-old.
As he lifted his drink to take another mouthful, the door opened and a woman walked in. Not just any woman. This one was a crowd-stopper. Literally. The bar fell almost completely silent as she paused just inside the doors.
She swept a confident gaze around the bar like she owned the place, and he suddenly got the feeling his luck was about to change. Okay, so maybe that feeling was a kind of warm, tingly one starting somewhere south of his weapon’s belt and radiating outward. But never let it be said he didn’t go for what he wanted, no matter the odds.
The crowd parted for her as she walked forward, giving him a better glimpse of her leanly muscled figure, all sleek and moving deadly like a panther. She came across as lethal and feminine in the same breath, something he couldn’t ever ignore.
Half of her straight, black hair was swept carelessly up, braided and clipped back, the rest falling to the middle of her back. It was a little tousled from the wind, but sexy, making him want to grab a fistful of it while he kissed the hell out of her. He couldn’t quite make out the color of her eyes from here, but they looked like they might be some shade of blue.
“Put your tongue back in your head before you lose it.”
Qae swiveled on his barstool to see Wyl sending him a warning glare that held a hint of exasperation. Qae knew Wyl’s cautioning didn’t stem from jealousy or anything. They’d both enjoyed that night together a few months ago, but in the same instance, neither of them had been looking for anything more.
“She spoken for? Got some hulking, psychotic boyfriend who’ll cut it out for me if he catches me looking?”
“More like she’ll cut it out herself.” Wyl sliced a glance at where she slid onto a stool at the opposite end of the bar and motioned to him. He nodded to acknowledge her, then returned his attention to refilling Qae’s drink. “I’ve known her since she was twelve. I might have only been ten, but even then, a smart guy wouldn’t mess with her. They call her Lilith, but it’s not her real name.”
“Lilith?”
Wyl braced a hand on the bar and leaned forward. “You know, the demon princess of hell? You didn’t notice how pretty much everyone in the bar got looking busy real fast when she walked in?”
Instead of turning him off, his interest was caught like small meteors going into a ship’s engine. It was a wonder he didn’t know who she was, since everyone else seemed to, and he’d been on the Belt a year now. But maybe it was one of those ships-passing-in-the-dark things where he happened to be off-world whenever she was around and vice versa. He couldn’t help slipping a covert look along the bar to where she was tapping something into the commpad in her hand.
Wyl made an incredulous noise. “Seriously, that made you more interested? You’re one twisted bastard, Forster. But she’s way out of your stratosphere. In fact, she’s not even in your galaxy. Besides, she’s—”
A sudden shout cut off whatever Wyl had been about to say, grabbing the barkeep’s attention as a fight broke out and some wasted jackhole started firing his pulse pistol.
Wyl swore and vaulted the bar, wading into the throng, the fight spilling over to more and more patrons, dragging drunks and too-stupid-to-know-better lowlifes into the fray.
“She’s what?” Qae yelled at Wyl, but the barkeep didn’t answer, too busy intercepting the swing of one guy who’d tried to punch another guy with a knife in his fist, which definitely would have made a mess. And Wyl really hated it when his place got messy. It was one of the reasons Qae came here. He was less likely to end the night with a black eye.
Usually he would have thrown himself into the middle of a good bar fight just for the hell of it. Nothing like swinging a few fists and putting down a few thugs. But not tonight. Not with Lilith sitting a few stools down from him and looking like the kind of lethal temptation he’d rarely tasted before.
So instead, he grabbed his drink and closed the distance between them, only pausing momentarily as a guy hit the bar face first and went down. Qae stepped over the groaning man and got his ass on the stool next to the woman.
“Hi.” As openings went, it seemed like the safest. He wasn’t one for fancy pick-up lines. Usually his smile and charm did the trick all on their own.
She flicked a brief look at him, then returned her attention to her commpad and the message or whatever she was typing.
Damn, he hadn’t counted on her giving him nothing. Now what did he say? He drained his glass, leaving him with an opening.
“Drink?” Before she could answer, he pushed to his feet and leaned over the bar to grab the bottle Wyl had been pouring him before getting distracted.
She glanced up again as he stamped a glass in front of her. “Don’t let Wyl catch you doing that.”
He shrugged as he poured them a measure each of the moderately expensive bourbon. “I’ll smooth it over. Wyl likes me. I’m a likeable guy.”
Her expression took on a cynical edge, as though maybe she had other ideas about his likeability.
Although she hadn’t touched it, he clinked his glass into hers before taking a sip. Unfortunately, before he could get down more than half a mouthful, a couple of brawlers got all up in his personal space and bumped his elbow, sloshing his drink down the front of his shirt.
“Goddamn waystation whoreson.” He slammed down his glass and half turned, except before he could lay hands on the bastard who’d ruined his shirt and probably his night, Lilith—or whatever her name was—grabbed the guy by the back of the neck and made sure his face got intimately acquainted with the hard surface of the bar.
“Think he owes you a drink.” She calmly took a mouthful from her own glass, as if threatening guys twice her size was an every-other-day thing for her. Heck, maybe it was. And shite, but why the hell was he so turned on right now?
Bracing an elbow on the edge of the bar, he leaned down so he could eye the dude, who wasn’t even trying to break out of the girl’s hold.
“You hear that? The lady thinks you owe me a drink.”
“Lady?” the idiot repeated, which turned into a pained noise when she dug her nails into the back of his neck.
“Sure, I’ll buy you a drink, buddy,” the guy sputtered. “But you could drink everything in this bar—she’s still not leaving with you. She never leaves with anyone unless it’s to take them out into the street and break their nose.”
She let him go with a sharp eye roll, hooking in a leg so he went down instead of getting upright. As the moron dragged himself away, Qae studied her, not bothering to hide the fact he was checking her out up close and personal style.
Never left with anyone, huh? A challenge to him was like boosting the engines to full power—it got him revving and working hard to prove himself. So what would it take to change her track record and leave with him?
She slipped her comm away, tossed her drink back, and then stood to face him.
“You about done? Got a good look at the package?”
Oh yeah. The package was even sleeker and sexier than she’d looked at a distance.
“Is this the part where I apologize and try to charm you into not being pissed at me for checking out your ass, among other things?”
One single eyebrow arched up, as though maybe she was impressed by his honesty. “Well, you’re a straight shooter, aren’t you?”
He shifted in closer, liking where this was going. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Give it up, Forster.” Another drunk guy he’d diced with a few times
knocked into him and then slouched across the bar. “That’s never going to happen, not with her.”
What the freck, people? Did everyone except him know her and her reputation of not socializing with any guys? Maybe she didn’t go for men?
The drunk guy grabbed the bottle off the bar and clapped him on the shoulder. “Cast your bait elsewhere if you want to catch anything juicy tonight.”
Laughing at his own wit, the guy weaved away, sculling from the bottle.
“That’s it,” the girl muttered darkly.
He was almost convinced maybe everyone was right and he should bow out before he was defeated. However, as he started to turn, she came up against him, closing one hand around the back of his head and catching his shoulder with the other hand. She was nearly a head shorter than he was—not that he’d noticed before now since she seemed larger-than-life—so she pretty much yanked his head down and into the kind of kiss he’d thought only happened in movies and make believe.
Goddamn. She was all dark heat and wicked temptation, spinning his head and stalling the breath in his lungs. Sensation burst through him like a solar flare, bright and blazing, but smoldering with the kind of ecstasy that melted a man’s brain and left him willing to do anything for the burn.
Landing a hand on each hip, he pulled her tighter against him, kissing her more deeply, nearly losing his head when her tongue slid sensuously against his. Jezus Christ and Christmas. No matter what anyone said, she was sure as hell leaving this bar with him tonight.
She broke the kiss, and he forced himself to take a long, slow pull of air before he face-planted from an idiotic lack of breathing. It took him a second to realize the bar was completely silent and everyone was staring at them.
Oooh-kay. Weird. But at least he’d taken care of Wyl’s little brawl problem. Before he could get too distracted by the horrified stares, which maybe he should have taken a clue from, she cupped her hands on his cheeks and grabbed his attention again.
“Want to get out of here?”
Her eyes were violet blue. A deep kind of mysterious shade he’d never seen before.
“Hell yeah I do.” His voice came out with more than a little gravel roughing it out, making her eyes darken as if maybe she liked the hint of longing in his tone.
She gave a single nod then let him go and stepped back, heading through the parting crowd, like she was some queen and the masses could do nothing but cower in her wake.
Qae shoved a hand in his pocket and hastily got his fingers on a few cred chips to pay for the bottle, slapping it on the bar as Wyl came over.
“Forster, wait, I don’t think this is a good idea—”
He clapped the barkeep on the shoulder, unable to help the grin on his face.
“I’m pretty sure this is the best idea I’ve ever had.”
Before Wyl could say anything else, he followed after his companion for the night, ignoring the gaping stares of the other patrons and telling himself it was nothing. They were probably just jealous she’d never left with any of them.
Never left with anyone. Until him.
Yep, this was going to be a night to remember.
Chapter Three
Cami didn’t bother trying to make conversation with Captain Qaelan Forster as they left the noise and stale-alcohol smell of the bar and headed out into the balmy night. He hadn’t followed her for some kind of deep-and-meaningful or even the slightest bit of small talk.
The only thing he was interested in wasn’t going to require any words. Well, not any coherent ones, anyway.
Not that she was looking for anyone to talk to. The last run for her father hadn’t gone well, and she’d ducked into the bar to avoid seeing him. He probably wouldn’t say anything about it, and he couldn’t be more pissed at her than she was at herself. But he’d get that look. The one that said she’d disappointed him. And she hated that look more than anything. Would rather he yelled at her.
So, leaving the bar with the infamous Qaelan Forster hadn’t really been about him at all. It’d been about avoiding her father. And for the fact she was sick of her demon-princess-of-hell reputation. Sure, it was well warranted, and she’d always thought it didn’t matter that a bunch of people who weren’t significant thought she was an unfeeling callous bitch who believed they were all beneath her.
But for some reason, tonight it had gotten to her. Qaelan Forster had been there, and she couldn’t deny the tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed captain was seriously hot, just like she’d heard. Kissing him to shut up a few morons up hadn’t been a chore at all.
In fact, it’d been the exact opposite. An instant fire had lit up her blood, and while initially she’d been planning on ditching him as soon as they got outside, now she was trying to remember the last time she’d let anyone get close to her. It’d been almost two years ago, that gorgeous blond waiter she’d seen a handful of times passing through a space station not too far out of the Belt.
Claude had been the first and only casual relationship she’d had. She’d thought if it wasn’t serious, then her father would be less likely to interfere or threaten anyone. Turned out she’d been wrong. He’d still managed to have a hand in messing things up. Truth be told, her heart hadn’t been in it, so she hadn’t been all that devastated.
Though her handful of other relationships had been short, she’d never had a one-night-stand with a complete stranger before—usually she was at least somewhat familiar with her partner.
And she couldn’t actually remember the last guy she’d been serious about, not clearly anyway. Her father had probably gotten him killed, or banished him, or some equally ridiculous overreaction. The second she ever looked at a guy twice, her father was plotting murder and mayhem.
She glanced at Qaelan as they silently walked through the bright, night-lit streets, people spilling out of all kinds of establishments or shopping in the bazaar. Life in Tripoli never stopped. The party just kept rolling on.
Qaelan had his hands in his pockets, casting her glances every now and then, probably trying to figure her out. Men were always trying to figure her out. It annoyed the crap out of her.
For half a second, she considered cutting him loose again. Her father favored Qaelan and his even-more-infamous cousin, Rian Sherron. He’d be seriously pissed if he found out Qaelan had touched her, let alone anything else. But maybe that favoritism would mean Qaelan would simply get banished, not dead. And that would only happen if her father found out…
Kissing him in front of a bar full of people probably meant that was a given. It was too late now. The damage was done. She might as well enjoy herself. And if her father did decide he was going to try something, she got the feeling that maybe Qaelan and Rian would be able to hold their own against him.
They left the more crowded streets, and Qaelan shifted closer, his shoulder brushing hers.
“So, where are we going?” he asked, that low, sexy voice of his rippling over her skin. She liked it, the way it had an edge of husk to it.
“Your place.”
Her answer made him arch a brow. “My place?”
“Your ship, the Ebony Winter.”
A deeper note of intrigue edged into his features. “So you know who I am. I’m at a disadvantage then, since everyone seems to know you except for me.”
The confirmation she’d suspected. He didn’t have a god-given clue of her identity, unlike everyone else on Tripoli. That fact was bonus points in her book. It meant she knew for certain he was interested in her and not a possible connection to her father.
“You’ll find out eventually.” But she wasn’t going to tell him. Not now, not tonight.
They reached the spaceport, conversation ebbing away again. Despite the fact they were total strangers, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. It was actually really great. If he’d tried talking to her, tried to persuade her into giving away her identity, it definitely would have ruined the mood. And right now, the mood between them was spicy-sweet with anticipation. Definitely
an improvement on her day.
They reached his ship, and he stepped forward to open the hatch.
“Anyone else home?” she asked as the ramp softly clanged down.
His smile was hot and intimate. “I really hope not.”
They traversed deeper into the ship, lights coming on as they sensed movement, which confirmed no one else was aboard. Her opinion of him went up several notches as she studied the interior. This ship was obviously well-loved. Though it wasn’t exactly sparkling new, it had definitely been well maintained. There was a sense of home in the small, personal details, which told her it wasn’t just a tool of his trade.
“Should we continue what we started at the bar?” he asked from somewhere behind her.
She turned from her inspection of the common room they’d entered, which opened right into the bridge, thinking he meant the kiss. But he had a bottle out and had set two glasses on the galley bench.
Drinks weren’t what she’d come here for. She was going to kiss him once more, see if that same spark was there, and then decide how the rest of her night was going to play out.
Closing the distance between them, she set her hand over his on the bottle to stop him from pouring the liquor into a glass.
“Not thirsty?” He arched a single eyebrow at her and set the bottle down again.
“Not in the least,” she murmured, taking a handful of his shirt and tugging him closer.
He came up against her willingly, eagerly, his hands landing on her sides and then sliding down to her hips. The length of his body was deliciously muscled, every place it pressed into her sparking heat in her veins, telling her it’d been too long since she’d enjoyed the heavy, solid weight of a man’s pleasure.
Damn him, he was even more gorgeous up close, out of the dim bar and in the clear light cast from the bulkheads above them. She’d thought maybe the rumors from some of the local girls about his breathtaking good looks were exaggerated, but they weren’t in the least. She’d also heard some gossip that Qaelan hadn’t limited himself to only the female population of Tripoli, but to her mind that was neither here nor there.
Entropy Page 2
