Enslave Me Sweetly (16 page)

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Authors: Gena Showalter

BOOK: Enslave Me Sweetly
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Lucius meshed our lips in a brutal kiss of warring tongues. He continued to hammer into me, riding the waves of my orgasm. Then his body stiffened, bowed, and spasmed, and I swallowed his roar of satisfaction.

A long while of shallow breathing passed. When both of our heartbeats at last calmed, he collapsed on top of me. I didn't mind his weight; I welcomed it. We stayed like we were, weak in the aftermath, every ounce of our bodies sated, afraid to shatter the lethargic spell.

“I told you,” he breathed against my ear.

“What?” I barely had the strength to get that one word out.

“That you'd come more than me.”

I smiled into his chest. “That means I won.”

“Competitive,” he tsked.

We settled into a comfortable silence for several minutes. “Speaking of competitions,” I said, “have you learned anything about solar flares?”

“Not much. You?”

“No.” Colin hadn't contacted me, and I hadn't had time to do the research I wanted.

“Guess we'll have to wait to crown the winner, hmm. I
will
beat you.” He paused and pushed out a breath. “You're not the spoiled princess I thought you were,” he said. “Not at all.”

Another admission from him. Two in one day. This one weakened me as much as the other. “I was at one time,” I admitted. I traced my finger around his nipple. “Michael spoiled me rotten. Whatever I wanted, he bought me. If he didn't buy it fast enough, I threw a tantrum the likes of which you've never seen.”

His breath fanned my cheek as he chuckled. “What about your parents? Do you remember them?”

“Not really.” Maybe I should keep my past to myself, but he'd shared with me. And for the first time, I had someone I
could
talk to about my parents, people I had loved and still missed. I couldn't with Michael. “I have a vague image of my mother's face, pretty and golden, but that's all. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I can still hear her voice singing me to sleep.”

“She sounds like a good mom.”

“She was. I wish I had a memento of her, something, anything, but the day after she and my dad died, our house was burned to the ground, destroying everything inside. Michael had moved me to a hotel, so I wasn't hurt at least.”

“Why did they leave Raka and come here?”

“They wanted something better, I think. To escape the dictator who ruled them. I've always wanted to ask them, but…”

Lucius kissed the top of my head. I realized, then, that this kind of bonding was propelling us into another realm of awareness. A dangerous realm. We both knew the drawbacks of becoming sexually involved with an agent. But emotionally…did we have any clue about the ramifications?

I forced myself to get back to business. Keep it light; keep it casual. “Tell me what you and Parker argued about at the party, after I left.”

He rolled off me, then off the bed entirely. Cool air immediately ghosted over me. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he began strapping his weapons onto his bronze chest and thighs.

“Lucius?” As I watched him, I noticed the bite marks and scratches I'd left all over him. I liked it. I liked seeing my brand on him.

“Jonathan wants me to leave you alone for a while,” he said, the words rough and raw, “to give you a chance to settle in before I pursue you.”

What was wrong with him? “Why does he even care? I highly doubt he's afraid of Claudia's wrath.”

His shrugged, the action stiff. “Why else? I told you it might happen. He got a good look at you, and he wanted to fuck you himself.” Lucius ran his tongue over his teeth, his eyes glinting like pressurized steel, but he said nothing more on the subject.

“Will he continue to help you?” Luc appeared at the side of the bed, silently requesting reassurance. I patted the bed and she jumped up beside me, all the while watching Lucius warily. I ruffled her fur, and that seemed to be enough for her because she relaxed.

“I think so,” he answered. “Even if it's merely to help
himself
to you.” Lucius pushed out a long stream of air. “I know I told you before, but it bears mentioning again. You did good today.”

“I know. You roared your satisfaction.”

“I don't mean the sex, smart-ass.”

I snorted and jerked upright. Stiffly I pulled on my ripped tank and shimmed into my panties. “All I did was turn you down. I didn't do a damn thing to truly help this case.” I tried to keep the bitterness from my tone. “I haven't since the day I started.”

He whipped around, leveling me with a hard stare. The fierce scowl he wore had enough power to kill anyone in its path. “Who got Sahara Rose to talk? Who got closer to EenLi than any other agent ever has? Who got us the lead about solar flares? Who got inside Jonathan's room undetected and knew to look for a hidden door?” Before I could respond, he added, “You want so badly to prove yourself that you're forgetting to stop and acknowledge what you
have
done.”

His intense gaze held me immobile. Only Michael had ever praised me like that. It was astonishing—and wonderful—that Lucius kept doing so.

As if he hadn't just rocked my entire world, he turned away and casually resumed dressing. “I put one of my men in this house,” he said. “He'll let me know which parties you're going to attend, so I can make sure I'm there.”

I forced my mind on his latest words. “Who is this man?”

“He's now the main driver for Claudia. White hair, violet eyes. Six feet. A human pretending to be an Arcadian. Go to him if you need immediate assistance. Also, I left a cell unit in your bag. It's programmed to dial my number the moment you open it.”

Expelling a breath, I shoved my hair out of my face. “You could have given it to me before I flew here. Why did you come here tonight, Lucius?”

He shrugged, didn't turn to me.

“You risked a lot,” I persisted.

“I risked nothing.”

“You could have been spotted.”

“I wasn't.”

“How can you be so sure?”

His motions clipped, he shoved a blade into the scabbard on his thigh. “Because I'm damn good at breaking and entering.”

“Well, I'm good at getting answers, and you haven't answered me. Why did you come here? Tell me the real reason.” I wanted to hear him say it.

“Maybe I wanted to tell you to make sure Claudia Chow brings you to see Jonathan and me tomorrow. I want us all to have a heart-to-heart so you can rebuff me again.”

“You didn't have to come here to tell me that.”

He bent over and jerked on his boots—I didn't remember him ever removing them—giving me a glimpse of his taut, pant-clad ass. He straightened and paused; his fists clenched. “I wanted to see you. Is that a good enough reason to risk everything?” Without waiting for my answer, he stalked to the bay window and disappeared into the night.

More than enough, my mind foolishly supplied.

The thought made me stiffen. Made me panic. It hinted at deeper feelings, hinted at…caring. No. No, no, no. I dropped my head into my hands and forced myself to breathe. He was an agent and my partner. We'd had sex, but it couldn't be more than that. I wouldn't allow it to be more than that. Too much was at stake.

“Nothing matters but the mission,” I whispered, then said with more force, “Nothing matters but the mission.”

Chapter
16

T
he next morning my body thrummed with sensual remembrance, mocking my resolve. Sunlight poured past the wispy yellow-and-white curtains as I lay in the bed. For a long while, I soaked up Lucius's lingering scent and let the softness of the sheets caress me. My skin felt oversensitized, my thighs bruised, and I still emitted the telltale fragrance of honey.

“You're an agent, Eden Black. Don't forget again. Last night doesn't matter. Remember?” I'd give myself the reminder a thousand times if necessary.

Agents who become emotionally involved were easily distracted (case in point) and constantly put their missions at risk. Michael didn't have a rule against it because he knew the forbidden often became the obsession. Still, we all knew the reality of agent relationships.

I forced myself from the bed. I took Luc for a walk, fed her, then quickly showered in the dry enzyme spray. I strapped on my arsenal and dressed in slim black slacks and a white silk top. Steps clipped, I strode to my laptop, which was perched atop the marble vanity in the sitting area of my bedroom.

As I booted up the blue, jelly-like holoscreen, Luc padded to me and I rubbed her head. A message from Colin popped up within seconds, and I nearly jumped up and down in eagerness as the words crystallized. Finally!

“Sorry for the delay. Was out of town. Small solar flares usually have no effect and are basically undetectable,” I read. “Large solar flares, however, create auroras. At the right angle, these can reach down and create a geomagnetic storm, which can distort the earth's magnetic field. If that happens, radios, TVs, cell units, airplane communications, basically anything that reacts to magnetism, can be affected. I suppose, in theory, a being or object could be molecularly transported into the belly of another solar flare—
if
they were wearing some sort of magnetic device. To my knowledge, that's never been done. Does this help, or do you need more? Colin. P.S. Let's do dinner soon. I miss you.”

A thrill of satisfaction danced through me. I'd been right. My lips curled in a smile. I'd been right! Laughing, I replied, “This helps. Thank you. Can you give me an example of a magnetic device that would work best? Eden. P.S. No dinner. You're a good friend, but an awful boyfriend.”

A knock sounded at my door.

I quickly shut down my computer and strolled to the thick cherry wood entrance. Strolled? Yes, I had a spring in my step that couldn't be denied. I couldn't wait to share this information with Lucius—and win the solar flare competition.

After unscrewing the extra cylinders I'd placed in the lock, I pulled open the door. “Yes?” I said to the woman in front of me. Or rather, to the pure white, deliciously fragrant orchids in front of me. No, not pure white, I realized a moment later. Flecks of gold had been sprinkled on the petals.

“These came for you,” a soft, lyrical voice spoke in halting English.

As I studied the orchids, a very feminine reaction occurred inside me. I melted. My bones literally liquefied, and my muscles turned to mush. Before I took them from her, I removed and read the card.
Thank you for last night.

I pressed my lips together to keep from scowling—or smiling, I wasn't sure which. Way to keep it about the mission, Lucius. Anyone who read the card would think “secret admirer,” but I knew. “Thank you,” I told the woman and claimed the heavy crystal vase. I tried to shut the door with my foot. I'd shut off the automatic sensor.

“Wait,” she said. She was an Agamen. Not attractive by human standards because of the small horns protruding from her skull—horns that produced poison when the Agamen was frightened—but her eyes were a pure, liquid silver and very pretty. “There's more.”

I placed the flowers on a nearby table and turned back to her. I'd fought only one Agamen over the years. He had rammed me in the stomach, and I spent six weeks recovering from the toxic liquid that invaded my body.

She bent down and hefted another vase, this one stuffed with blood red roses. “These also came for you.”

Again I read the card before taking the flowers.
I'm sorry you were upset last night. I hope you'll give me a chance to make it up to you. Jonathan.

The only reaction I experienced toward
this
gift was satisfaction for a job well done. “Thanks,” I said, taking the roses and setting them behind the orchids.

“The ambassador wishes to speak with you in the formal dining area.”

I massaged my neck and stifled a sigh. I'd wanted to call Lucius and tell him what I'd learned. Now there wouldn't be time. “I need a moment.” Not bothering to shut the door, I rummaged through my bag for the right pair of shoes. Open-toed black heels. My feet immediately screamed in protest, but I strapped the torture devices on anyway. To the Agamen, I said, “Please, lead the way,” speaking in her own language.

She blinked at me in surprise, then smiled slowly, revealing sharp gray teeth. “Come.”

Down the elegant hall and winding stairs we went, the fragrance of coffee growing stronger. I tried not to grimace; I truly hated that smell. I didn't know how humans could drink coffee. It was so bitter. If I had my way, only sweet-smelling food and drink would be prepared.

Finally we reached our destination, a dining room with an antique cherry wood table, benches instead of chairs, and pictures of sunflowers on the walls. No animal heads. The ambassador sat at the table, which was piled high with food. Her black hair was pulled back in another severe twist, and she wore a severe black pantsuit.

“Sit, sit,” she said when she spotted me, waving to the chair across from her.

I did as she requested. She looked me over and frowned. “Eden, dear, you look tired. Are you still upset about the party?”

“A little,” I lied.

“Well, stop that right now. I told you I spoke with Jonathan, and he assures me he will see to your safety, as well as to Hunter.”

“Thank you. You've been wonderful about this whole thing.”

“Speaking of wonderful,” she said. She sniffed the air. “What is that heavenly scent you're wearing?”

Feeling hot pink circles consume my cheeks, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I'm, uh, not wearing perfume.”

Her brow puckered in confusion. “You have to be. You smell. In a good way,” she rushed to assure me. “Like honey.”

“No. No, perfume.”

“Oh. Well. Maybe it's the food.” She swept her hand over the buffet of choices. “Are you hungry?”

“A little.” I filled my plate with toast and eggs. There was a bowl of sugar probably meant for the tea, but I sprinkled several heaping spoonfuls over my food. Everything tasted better with sugar.

Everything except these eggs, I realized after the first bite. They possessed enough salt to fill an ocean, and even the sugar couldn't mask it. I managed to choke down a few bites before pushing my plate away.

Claudia nibbled on a piece of toast. “Did you get the flowers Jonathan sent you? I think he sent you the roses
and
the orchids. He feels terrible about what happened.”

Lucius had insisted I find a way to Jonathan's residence today, so I said, “I'd like to thank him in person, if I may.”

Claudia brightened and dropped her toast onto her plate. “That's a wonderful idea. I'll call him right now and see if he can fit us in.” She clapped her hand and called, “Martha. Please bring me the phone.”

A few seconds latter, Martha floated into the room holding a silver tray. A black cell unit and receiver rested on top. Claudia anchored the earpiece in place and said, “Jonathan Parker.” Pause. She grinned. “Jonathan. This is Claudia Chow. Eden Black and I would like to meet with you—” Her lips pursed, and there was another pause. This one longer. “No. We want to meet with you, not you and Hunter.”

“I'll meet with both of them,” I rushed out.

She blinked at me in puzzlement. “But…but…”

“I'm eager to get this settled.” I needed to be careful about my eagerness.

“Jonathan,” she said into the mouthpiece. “I've changed my mind. We'll meet with both you and Hunter.” Pause. “Yes. Thank you. Until then.” She tossed the unit back onto the tray, and Martha floated out of the room as gracefully as she'd entered. “We're meeting with them this afternoon, after we make my morning rounds.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

Her “rounds,” as it turned out, consisted of door-to-door schmoozefests at other-worlders' residences. I spent the next four hours interpreting conversations about health care, dietary needs, and Earth currency as Claudia Chow visited with her constituents. I admit, her concern for the aliens of New Dallas impressed me.

Finally we were inside the limousine and headed for Jonathan's house—the moment I had been waiting for. I enjoyed the lush green landscape, the hills on one side of the window and the flat plains on the other that whizzed past the window.

“I feel like I haven't thanked you enough, Claudia, for championing my cause. You really fight for other-worlders, and I commend you.”

Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I do what I can.”

“I'll be honest,” I said, facing her. “You aren't what I expected.”

She furrowed her brow. “What did you expect?”

“Someone who saw other-worlders as a prize, but didn't actually care for them.”

“Aliens are people, too.”

“Yes. We are. But not everyone realizes that.”

She leaned forward and whispered, “I'm considering dating a Taren, the one who spent a few weeks in an A.I.R. prison for allegedly stealing a dress. He's asked me out on several occasions, but I've always told him no. Any”—she coughed—“advice for me?”

I couldn't picture Claudia with a feline, for that's what Tarens were. They walked and talked like humans, but their skin was patched with fur and their tongues were abrasive. Some could walk through walls. I'd trailed several over the years, and had seen them do it.

“Advice?” I was not the girl to come to for relationship advice. “Hmm. Well. Treat him like you would a human, I guess. And pet him often. Tarens like that.”

She nodded, her expression rapt, as if she were soaking up my every word. “Pet him. Yes. Good idea.”

“I don't know what more to tell you,” I admitted. “I've never dated a Taren myself.” Tips on killing them, I could give her.

Thankfully, our car eased past the tall iron gates of Jonathan's estate, effectively ending our conversation. I saw the towering mansion, white brick and jagged peaks. The lawn was perfectly manicured, but the grass was sparse. My heartbeat picked up speed—not out of fear, but in anticipation. Even now Lucius waited inside, ready to push our prey further.

Several black-clad guards manned the outer walls, I noticed, semiautomatic pyre-rifles strapped to their sides. Interesting. Jonathan had human guards today, rather than aliens.

When the car parked in front of the entrance, we emerged in the afternoon heat, strolled over the bridge, and entered the coolness of the house. The French doors were already open, like arms beckoning us inside. We were expected, after all.

My gaze collided with one of the guards positioned at the side of the door. Another human. His eyes widened with…awe? Greed? He took an unbidden step toward me, even reached out to touch me, but an older man dressed in a black suit led Claudia and me past him. His arm dropped to his side.

We were taken straight to Jonathan's office, the very office he and Claudia had occupied last night. Lucius was there and seated on a blood red chair, his feet resting on the faux-fur ottoman. He watched me through narrowed eyes, his lips firm and unyielding. I pretended to ignore him, though every cell in my body screamed in awareness.

“Thank you for the flowers,” I told Jonathan. “And for agreeing to meet with us.”

A muscle in Lucius's temple ticked.

“My pleasure.” Jonathan, seated behind the desk, beckoned Claudia and me to take the green couch across from Lucius. He had a cut lip, I noticed. “I'm so glad you could come,” Jonathan said, his cultured baritone very smooth. He watched me, but I didn't feel
his
gaze boring into me like I did Lucius's, branding me, making me ache.

“This is hard for me.” I cast a dark glare at Lucius. That was the only way I could allow myself to study him. The contacts he wore made his eyes as dark as a midnight, starless sky, but there was a spark inside them I had never seen before. There was a bruise on his left cheek. Had the two men fought? “I'm anxious to have this problem fixed.”

“As are we.” Jonathan nodded to Lucius, a silent you-may-begin.

“I would never hurt you,” Lucius said to me, speaking for the first time since I'd entered. His rough voice washed over me in sensuous waves.

“Is that so? You jerked me off the street. Locked me in your home. Yesterday you jerked me onto the dance floor and wouldn't let me go.”

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