Snowburn

by Frost, E J

  Kez’s head comes up, polarized visor flashing the blue of her eyes and the industrial green of the airlock walls at me. “Nope. Hopefully they’ll know who we are.”

  I nod and hold out my gloved hand. She takes it and when the inner airlock cycles, walks through at my side.

  I spot the woman we’re meeting immediately. There’s no mistaking her. It’s Kez. A few years older. The bones of her face and the lines of her body a little more finely drawn. A few credits richer. She’s wearing a custom, skin-tight, cobalt blue atmosphere suit that probably cost more than the Marie. Her skin – shockingly bared as she lounges without her suit helmet – is gilded a rich honey brown. Her blue eyes, a shade paler than Kez’s, glow like glacial ice against the warm frame of her skin. Her mouth, the same size and shape as the mouth I’ve been kissing for the last two days, is lacquered a brilliant, glossy red, a hot flare against her golden skin and cold eyes.

  My body reacts to her the way it reacts to Kez. The little monster shoots so hard, so fast, it’s painful. My balls short-circuit my brain, and my head fills with a vision of flipping the woman over on the bench, popping the waist-seal on her fancy suit, yanking it down and taking her from behind. I could be inside her in less than thirty seconds. Her honey skin would be smooth and warm under my hands. No scars.

  She wouldn’t be Kez.

  That thought kills the little monster’s enthusiasm. Kez, blissfully unaware of what’s happening in my pants, squeezes my hand. She draws away from me and pulls off her hood. Shakes out her dreadlocks. “Erin,” she says.

  The woman stands. She’s a few centimeters shorter than Kez. Guess she didn’t have the same steady source of protein that Kez and Ape had growing up. She swishes a platinum blonde mane that falls to her waist and gives Kez a wide, red-framed smile. Lotta teeth there. Gleaming white with too many points, they betray the predator behind the polish. She’s a meat-eater all right. And there’s nothing of Kez’s mischievous humor in that feral red grin. She’s what Kez could have become if not for her scars and self-doubt, if not for her rabbits and her idiot brother. For a moment I’m grateful to Ape and Nev and the giant fuzz balls and everything else that’s kept Kez sweet and mostly sane for the past twenty-seven years. All the things that, if that smile is anything to go by, Kez’s sister has lost.

  “Kezzy.” The woman reaches towards Kez. Kez stares at her, taking in the outstretched arms but not moving into them. She remains perfectly still, and out of reach. “How are you? You got so tall. What have you done to your hair?”

  Kez tilts her head to one side. “Tyng.”

  The woman’s attempt at a warm welcome slides off her face like a sluice of dirty water, revealing the predatory purity of her real expression. No humor, no warmth, nothing but the unnerving intensity I’ve seen occasionally in Kez. It’s just a step away from a killing stare, that intensity. And this woman lives in that state permanently, where Kez only visits from time to time.

  “Of course,” Erin says. “I’ve worked for him for years. You could have, too. Don’t you remember? I asked you to come meet him.”

  Kez’s eyes narrow. “Actually, I kind of blanked everything you said after you told me I couldn’t stay with you even one night.”

  The woman laughs, and there’s something ball-clenchingly hollow about her laugh. “I can’t believe you remember that. It was, what, ten years ago?”

  “Sixteen. It made an impression,” Kez says, her voice carefully neutral. “So what do you do for him?”

  The woman steps back without hugging Kez and slides smoothly onto the bench she just vacated. She crosses one long leg over the other. “I shine his shoes, sweetheart.” Another flash of that feral red grin. “Who have you brought me?”

  Kez glances at me. She doesn’t meet my eyes; hers are shuttered and ashamed. Poor kitten. It’s always a bad day when a skeleton this lively climbs out of the closet. “This is Snow. He’s our pilot.”

  The woman rises again and holds a slender hand out to me. “Erin Agosante.”

  I finally place her in the Tyng family tree. Erin the Assassin. Tyng’s killer call-girl. The Nock City bars are full of wannabes who claim, after too many shots, to have slept with her. Doubtful. She’d have crunched them down as an appetizer.

  I shake her hand. She has a firm grip, but she’s not trying to prove anything. “Sandringham Snow,” I say.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she responds, and I get the full blast of that blood-red grin. It’s sexy in the same way that watching predators eat can be a turn-on. It’s wholly primal, and a reminder that sex and death are closer than most people like to think.

  She moves a step closer, runs her forefinger down my biceps. Her long, chalk-white nails catch on the rough material of my suit. “A pilot?” she asks. Her eyes narrow, gleam with rapacious intensity. This is a woman who fucks, and eats, whatever she wants. And either the attraction to bald men’s genetic, or she’s just giving me the big ‘I’m going to eat you after I fuck you’ eyes to piss off her sister. “What large . . . flaps you have . . . Sandringham Snow.”

  I shrug, giving her the same blank face that I gave Chiara. I don’t do it to scare her. I doubt there’s much that scares Erin-the-Assassin. I do it for Kez’s benefit. Whatever my dick’s reaction, I’m not going to show any interest in this woman. Kez didn’t like me holding the beautiful girl; any interest I show in her sister will ratchet her temper into the fissionable range.

  “I’m not gettin’ paid by the hour, so if that’s your shit, let’s go.” I nod at several black duffel bags tucked under the bench she was sitting on. She even uses the same kind of luggage as Kez.

  Erin steps back smoothly and inclines her head at the bags. When I bend over to collect them, she brushes by me, ostensibly to pick up her helmet and gloves, but a lot more of our relative anatomies come into contact than is strictly necessary. She murmurs, “nice rear flaps,” loudly enough for both me and Kez to hear, as she settles her helmet over her pile of silky blonde hair.

  I ignore her, sling two bags over my shoulders and hand a third to Kez. Kez has put her helmet back on already. Under the visor, her expression is frozen. Whatever she’s feeling, she’s working hard on keeping it off her face. I can take a couple of guesses at what’s going on in that fuzzy head. None of it’s nice. There’s not much I can do about it until we’re alone. In the meanwhile, I let myself envision a few more creative ways to kill Tyng. He may have wanted his best killer on this job, but that’s not the only reason he called Erin out of hiding. Even if Erin never told him about her family, Tyng would have seen the resemblance immediately, just like I did. He sent Erin on this run to fuck with Kez’s head, and from her expression, it’s working. Cutting his throat’s too quick. I’ll have to think of something else.

  Contemplating possibilities, I lead the way back to the Marie. I expect Kez to hang back and talk to her sister. She doesn’t. Within a few steps, she’s caught up to me and when I offer her my gloved hand, she takes it and walks beside me.

  “You up for another flying lesson? Two hours to Golden Sands.”

  Kez glances up at me. Grins. “Absolutely.”

  I fake a yawn. “Wake me up when we get there.”

  Kez bumps my arm with her shoulder. “I need you awake to tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

  “Ooooookay.”

  “Sorry it’s such a hardship.” She snorts. “Sitting there like a lump while I do all the work.”

  I chuckle. “That’s just the way I like it.”

  Kez shakes her helmeted head, but I can see the curve of her cheek. She’s smiling again. Now I just have to keep her mind off her sister for the next two hours.

  Erin doesn’t make it easy. She insists on a guided tour of the ship before takeoff. Takes my arm and slides hers through it, so her breast presses against my biceps. Little too firm to be real. Good quality, though. She’s taken off her suit, so I get a clear view down the front of her low-cut jacket. Her cleavage looks nice and natural. Guess it
only fails the touch-test.

  I disentangle myself on the pretext of taking off my own suit, and stick Kez between us. Seems safer. Or it is until Erin decides to start reminiscing.

  “Remember Jenker?” she asks Kez as we inspect the engineering compartment. She peers through the heavy plaz barrier separating the heavy water reactor from the rest of the compartment. “He had a ship like this.”

  “I remember he liked to hit Ma,” Kez responds.

  “Why do you only remember the bad things? He used to take us flying.”

  “He took you flying. I got left home with Ape.”

  Erin rolls her eyes. “You must have come once or twice.”

  “No, I didn’t. You never did pay me one fucking bit of attention, did you?”

  “Oh, for Helas sake, Kezzy, I was ten years old.”

  “You were twelve when Ma was with Jenker. I was seven. He was her last boyfriend before we went to live with Granna. He put her in medcen with a cracked skull. We’d been alone for three days when Granna found us. You were trying to get me and Ape to eat a rat you’d found.” Kez’s voice thins dangerously. “That’s what I remember.”

  I interpose myself between them. “Girls, play nice.”

  Erin laughs that false-hollow laugh. She slides her arm through mine and presses herself up against my side. “Oh, this is nice. We haven’t even gotten to the part where I went to the Academy on a full scholarship while my dyslexic sister had to repeat a year in v-school. Remember that, Kezzy?”

  I grab Kez by the shoulders before she can complete her lunge at her sister. “Tour’s over. You, stay put.” I push Kez up against the plaz shield. Interpose my body between her and her sister. “You, back to the passenger lounge. Get yourself strapped in,” I tell Erin over my shoulder.

  Erin backs away from me towards the door, rolling her hips as she walks. The little monster notices. “I might need some help with that.”

  “Smart girl like you? I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  Her sexy pout turns feral. Bad move. Rejection just whets her appetite. “See you in a few minutes, then.”

  Kez begins to push herself off the plaz wall. “I’ll see you in a few minutes—”

  I pin her with my forearm. “You, stay put.”

  She bucks against my hold but since I outweigh her by fifty kilos, she’s not going anywhere. I hold her still while her sister makes an irritatingly slow exit. Once the door snicks shut behind Erin, I shift so I’m pressing Kez against the barrier with my chest and hips.

  “I’m not dyslexic,” Kez says resentfully.

  “I never thought you were.” Not that I give a shit if she is or not. I nuzzle the nape of her neck. “You’re talkin’ to someone who was educated in solitary confinement.”

  Kez bows her head until her forehead rests against the plaz. “I hate her.”

  “Yeah, I got that.” No wonder she never mentioned her big sister before. “Tyng tapped her to fuck with your head.”

  Kez scoffs. “I bet she volunteered. She doesn’t give a shit about me or Ape. She never has. You know what she told me, when she went off to her la-la Academy? She told me not to bother visiting her, because she was going to forget she ever had a sister. Family just holds you back. That’s what she said.” Kez slams her fist against the plaz. “I’ll tear her goddamn eyes out.”

  “Not on my ship. Too hard on the upholstery. Besides.” I slide my hand down the front of her pants. She’s gone commando, naughty kitten. “You got other things to worry about.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “What are you doing?” Her voice drops, goes husky. When I tickle her labia with the tips of my fingers, she shivers. On the second tickle, I feel wetness. Her responses are so perfect. “Are you trying to distract me?”

  “Yeah. But it’s also been four whole hours since the last time.” Between that vivid fantasy of doggy-ing her sister and the nicely submissive position I’ve got her trapped in, the little monster’s stirring again. Besides, a quick fuck will get both of our minds off Erin. “You too sore?”

  She wriggles her ass against me. “No, I’m not too sore.”

  Neither of us is, as it turns out. It’s not the slow, sweet fucking of the night, but a hot, rough fuck against the wall, with the added stimulation of the tip of my finger in Kez’s tight little ass, is nearly as satisfying. By the time we’re finished, sweaty and panting, neither of us is thinking about Erin. I hold Kez for a few minutes afterward. She kisses my neck the way she likes to during the afterglow. When I finally let her go, not even fifteen minutes have passed. But those fifteen minutes have made a world of difference. Kez is smiling again. The little monster is completely satisfied. Even if Erin’s waiting for me in the passenger lounge naked and spread-eagled, I doubt it could manage much more than a twitch.

  I help Kez straighten her clothes – she doesn’t need the help, but I like dressing her almost as much as I like undressing her – both involve a lot of groping. Then I direct her towards the cockpit with a smack on the ass. “Get the ship warmed up,” I tell her. “No detouring to assault your sister.”

  Kez grins. “Fine, but I need to practice my inversions.”

  Hope Erin’s got a strong stomach. “She hurls all over the lounge an’ I’m takin’ the cleanin’ bill outta your cut.”

  Kez laughs and leaves me pulling up my pants.

  Erin’s not naked, or spread-eagled. But she has shed another layer of clothes, so she’s down to a skin-tight bustier and a criminally short skirt. I was wrong about the little monster. At the sight of that wealth of honey-brown skin, the little monster gives a low roar. Fortunately, that’s all he’s got in him. Not even enough for a full cock-stand.

  As I enter the lounge, Erin takes off a pair of amber spectacles and slips an earpiece out of her ear. She tucks them into one of the bags at her feet and pats the cradle beside her.

  I lean back against the door and cross my arms over my chest. “Takin’ instructions?”

  “Recording an update for my superiors,” she rejoins. “Sandringham, can I call you Sandringham?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. Pats the cradle again. “Sandringham, why don’t you come over here and sit beside me?”

  ‘Cause I don’t have any intention of becoming her afternoon snack. “I’m fine right here. Say whatever you got to say.”

  Her smile turns coy. “What if I don’t have anything to say?” She runs her fingers over the cradle’s padding suggestively.

  “Then stop wastin’ my time. You’re not my type. An’ I’m not yours.” She’s not looking for a sexual partner; she’s looking for prey.

  Those ice-blue eyes flare white-hot. I guess any rejection is a turn on, whether truth or falsehood. “You’re wrong about that,” she says throatily. “Should I show you how wrong you are?” She runs her hand down the front of her bustier, dragging it down so even more cleavage is exposed. I’ll be able to tell what color her nipples are in a second.

  I roll my eyes. “Ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before.” Which is the truth, since she looks just like Kez. Whose nipples are baby pink; same color as her tongue and outer labia. I’m betting Erin’s nipples aren’t that innocent a color. “You know I’m with Kez.”

  Her hollow laugh. “Can I tell you something?” When I shrug she continues, “I’ve worked for Kison for a long time. I know him as well as anyone can know him. There’s one thing he never forgets, and never lets go, and it’s a slight against his family. Chiara is his daughter. It doesn’t matter that she rebelled and ran away. It doesn’t matter that she’s cut ties with her family and told her father to go to hell. What matters is that, in Kison’s mind, Apemanthuz has ruined her. Someone is going to pay for that. Kez is protecting him, so it’s going to be Kez who pays. One way or the other, she’s Tyng’s.”

  Apemanthuz? How much fucking Hex was their mother on? No wonder he goes by Ape. I almost feel sorry for the kid.

  “She’s living on borrowed time,” Erin continues. “And so are you if you’re with
her.”

  I chuckle. I’ve been living on borrowed time since the day I was born. “You tryin’ to scare me, sister?”

  She shrugs and a nipple peeks above the edge of the bustier. Not the color of Kez’s; it’s reddened, closer to the violent shade of Erin’s mouth. Maybe she uses the same rouge on her titties. “I just want you to understand your options.”

  “Here’s an option: stop fuckin’ with me and tell me something useful. Like why you need to be in the Cloudlands by midnight.”

  Erin lifts her chin. “Why should I tell you anything?”

  “She’s your sister. And she’s takin’ the fall for your brother.”

  Those icefield eyes narrow at me. “So? I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll tell you why I need to be in the Cloudlands by midnight if you’ll come sit next to me.”

  “How ‘bout you tell me why you need to be in the Cloudlands by midnight or get the fuck off my ship?”

  “You don’t want to do that. It would upset Kezzy. Do you know she’s never ditched a run, or dropped a package? She’s known for it.”

  So I’ve heard. “This ain’t just her run. And I’m not known for it. So stop stallin’.”

  Erin tilts her head, simpering. It would work on her, if I hadn’t seen that preying-mantis smile. “Would you really kick me off your ship? It’s such a long walk to the Cloudlands.”

  “Sure is, an’ you’re not gettin’ there any faster.”

  She pouts. “You wouldn’t make me late, would you?”

  “Your timetable don’t mean shit to me.”

  She wets her lower lip. Her tongue is long and pointed. Good for sucking cock, but definitely not a kitten-tongue. “If I tell you, you’ll get me there on time, won’t you, Sandringham?”

  I shrug.

  “And it can be our secret. You won’t tell Kez?”

  Kez is probably listening to this, since she’s watched me work the ship’s com several times. I would in her place. “You’re wastin’ time.”

  “Okay.” She lifts her shoulder so more cleavage slides out of her bustier. “It hasn’t been easy for me, you know. Kez isn’t the only one paying for Ape’s mistake. I’ve had to prove myself all over again. This job’s part of the test.”