No Rules (2 page)

“Why would I do that when I have more than enough to buy my own bedmate?” Fenton cocked an eyebrow at the pile before him.

“Because she's unique. And all mine.” Mig held his gaze as he gripped her arm, bringing it to his lips, sinking his teeth in. She cried out in pain, but didn't pull away, just closed her eyes and endured it. Fenton knew that if he lost, or didn't take the bet, Mig would sink those teeth into her tender flesh over and over, getting off on her pain, as Hibariates customarily did. By morning she'd look like a chew toy.

Fenton made the mistake of looking at her face again, his mind superimposing the bastard's bite across her creamy flesh. He'd betrayed one human woman, leaving her to a cruel fate. He hadn't been able to help her any more than he could save his own family. Late at night he saw their faces as the guilt pressed down on him, crushing his lungs until he couldn't take a deep breath. At the time he'd had another, higher priority concern and no alternative. Would the whore's face haunt him too?

But he couldn't cave so easily. “All in or no deal.”

Mig released her arm and she snatched it back, her breasts rising and falling quickly as she looked from him to her tormentor and back again. Mig ignored her, though her blood still coated his lips, and studied his credit chips. “I have over a million
drachmas
here.”

It would have to be enough. “Those are my terms. Take it or leave it.”

Reed whistled low and placed his cards facedown. “Too rich for my blood. Think I'll rustle up some company of my own. See you in the morning, Del.”

Fenton nodded once. If Lady Luck was on his side, he would never see Reed again.

Mig studied him and he blanked his mind as he stared back, the moment stretching out endlessly.

“Agreed. All in and the girl, for a guide to the palace on Hosta and back again.” Mig pushed his drachmas to the middle of the table. “Let's see your cards.”

Fenton pushed his own neatly regimented stacks forward. “Your grand idea, you go first.”

Mig licked his lip. The whore held her breath. He winked at her as he laid down a glider streak, with a Regent on high. “Sorry, buck-o, only one hand beats that.”

Fenton stared at the cards impassively. “You're right.” He looked up at the woman. “I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Clutching her injured arm, she wavered on her feet.

Laying down his cards without any theatrics, he continued, “Sorry, but you've had a change of plans this evening.”

“Impossible!” The Hibariate raged as he studied the complete cataclysm, Overlord to Slave. “The odds of drawing that hand are astronomical! You must have cheated!”

Fenton was already on his feet, with his arm around the woman. “Careful, Mig. I'm part of the military contingent here on Pental. Accusing a soldier of cheating is the equivalent of issuing a dueling challenge. And I am an expert marksman.”

The Hibariate seethed as Fenton led the whore to the cash-out table. Issuing an order to have his winnings transferred to his credit account, he then retrieved his coat. “Do you have a cloak?”

“Upstairs.” Her voice was faint.

Absently touching the scar along the side of his face, he muttered, “You don't have to come home with me. He's paid for you either way.”

She pulled herself up out of her daze, squared her shoulders, and extended a hand to him. “My name's Alison.”

“Alison.” He brought her thin, white hand to his lips, enjoying the smooth texture of her soft skin. “The pleasure's all mine.”

2

T
hough she knew better than to leave the casino with a john, Alison didn't look back as Del Fenton led her out of the main gambling area, toward the exit. Staying at the brothel didn't seem like the best course of action anymore. Her heart still pounded frantically after her near miss with the little bastard and his shark-like teeth. She cradled her aching arm against her chest. Fenton draped his coat around her shoulders and took her uninjured hand in his as he led her out the door into the street. She didn't know why he was being so nice to her—it certainly wasn't common on Pental for a man to treat a whore with respect—but she was smart enough to accept it for an hour, a night, a year, or however long it lasted.

He'd just won a million credits. By Alison's recently reassessed standards of care, he could afford to keep her for a very,
very
long time. Ignoring the part of her that chafed at the thought of being kept by any man, she set her sights on doing her damndest to make sure she made herself worth his trouble. Pride had no place in a game of survival.

“Thank you for saving me. When Madam Brizella told me to entertain him, I had no idea what he would be like.”

Fenton released her hand and she immediately missed the warmth. “Brizella is one of the only madams who will cater to Mig and his unusual . . . appetites. She's always looking for new blood to throw his way, because he can pay for it. With diplomatic immunity, the military can't stop him. I'm surprised her girls didn't warn you that Hibariates enjoy inflicting pain during mating.”

“They don't like me very much.” Her own fault. If she'd just made friends with the other prostitutes she would have been warned about the sharp-toothed troll. Making female friends had never been her strong suit, especially now that she had so many things to hide.

Fenton didn't answer her as they made their way through a steamy alley jammed with vendors hawking food and souvenirs to the visitors. The air in the atmosphere dome was full of spice and frenetic energy. Alison hadn't spent much time outside, and she drank in the bustle and buzz of life happening all around her. In a way it reminded her of New New York, and a pang of homesickness made her oblivious to the cracks in the sidewalk. She stumbled and would have gone sprawling if he hadn't caught her.

“Careful.” Fenton's solid grip held her up. He didn't linger, just made sure she was steady before turning to resume his course. His shoulders took up almost the entire span of the narrow walkway between the carts and she pressed deeper into his side. Safety was an illusion, but right now she needed to trust somebody at least a little bit. The man had gone out of his way for her, and she figured he would continue to do so, at least until he got what he wanted.

An entire night with him. Her body tingled in anticipation. Hopefully he'd let her patch her arm up before he set in on her, but she wouldn't complain either way. Once activated, her germ shield would eradicate anything that might lead to an infection, as well as protect her from sexually transmitted diseases and pregnancy.

“You just flinched.” She started, unaware that he'd been watching her. Fenton didn't require an explanation but his eyes asked the question.

“Just a random thought. The worst-case scenario.” A baby was about the only thing that would make her life harder. Even the thought of a child made her twitchy.

“I won't hurt you.” Those icy eyes assessed her. “By the looks of you, you've been hurt enough.”

It was almost impossible not to take offense to that. Alison was a realist, but knowing she looked like hell and hearing a potential lover say so were on opposite ends of the universe. What was she expecting anyway? Fenton said he was a soldier and he'd saved her ass. Envisioning him sweet-talking her into bed was overkill.

Fenton ushered her out of the alley and across the road jammed by thicker congestion of military and civilian vehicles that idled in the early evening traffic and toward a small bridge spanning a long, dry riverbed. Even with the bioluminescent light fixtures tethered to trees surrounding the crossing, she could barely make out the edges of the arched walkway. With no railing, nothing prevented a one-hundred-meter drop to the long-dead stream.

Seeming to sense her hesitation, Fenton spoke in that brisk, yet reassuring voice. “There's an invisible force field around the bridge. You won't fall.”

She smiled weakly. “I'm not a fan of heights.”

He moved closer and pointed up. “Meteor shower. Focus on that.”

“Oh.” Her breath caught as she watched the blazes of light streak across the blackened sky. For a moment she shed her misery, dismissed all her worry, and just watched the glorious display. “It's beautiful.”

Rough hands caressed her cheek, and she turned her attention to him as his mouth feathered lightly over hers. The kiss he gave her was sweet and soft, not the kind of thing she was used to at all. Instead of an eager, messy mating, his lips brushed over hers with a sweet reverence. He tasted of liquor and potent male spices. She was so stunned she didn't have a chance to respond before he pulled back abruptly.

“Sorry.” He didn't say anything else as they'd crossed from the main tourist area into the military compound on the other side of the bridge. She wondered if he was taking her to some sort of barracks, if he intended to pass her around like a party favor. Military rarely showed up at The Nebula, unless there was some kind of disturbance. Hearing that Fenton was a soldier of some sort had been just one more shock to her already overloaded mind.

If she stopped to think about everything, she was sure she'd go insane. Better to just keep moving.

Fenton bypassed the main area of the compound and the barracks, instead aiming toward a small house. Actually it was more of a metal hut, still a palatial space compared to where she'd been sleeping and probably a grand concession for a military man. Pressing his palm flat against the door, Fenton waited a beat before reaching for the doorknob. He pulled her in behind him, then shut and secured the door before doffing his black utility vest and disappearing into the other room.

Obviously, he wasn't one for small talk. Alison took in the small space, which was comprised of two rooms: the kitchen/ dining room, where she stood, and what she guessed was the bedroom. She couldn't sit comfortably without her metallic skirt panels cutting into her legs so she stood still and waited.

Fenton returned quickly, carrying a small case. “We need to see to that wound.”

As he spread the contents of his case out on the sturdy metal table, Alison saw that it was a first-aid kit. “Just give me some gauze and I'll wrap it.”

“It could get infected.” Leveling his frosty gaze on her, he practically dared her to argue with him.

She rose to his challenge. “Not with this.” Pressing on the small node beneath the crook of her elbow, she activated her health guard. The snap and sizzle told her the shield was busy gobbling up any DNA not her own.

Fenton's lips parted and he reached forward, taking her hand. “I forgot your species was equipped with those.”

His words nearly stopped her heart. “You know what I am? Where I'm from?” No one this far out had ever heard of humans or Earth any more than people back home knew of Pental.

But Fenton did, she saw the knowledge there in his eyes even as he sought to reassure her. “I told you, I mean you no harm. I don't know what you're running from, but it's none of my concern.”

Alison didn't trust him that far; she couldn't afford to. “Then why did you save me?”

Reaching for her still-shielded arm, he took a small gel pack and placed it over the wound. She braced herself for the sting of antiseptic, but instead shivered as the cool plasma-like substance adhered to her skin. “Because you remind me of someone I loved. She didn't have any real choice either, was forced to pick between one pile of shit and another. I've seen how you have to make the best with nothing but nerve and determination and the hope that someday it will get better. There, that should help you heal faster.”

Alison swallowed when he released her. “Thank you.”

He nodded and repacked the kit. “You can stay the night. I'm leaving before dawn and you'll need to be out by then.”

She needed to step up her game, stop allowing him to throw her so far off balance. Take the bull by his protruding body part. But first things first. “You mind if I get cleaned up?”

He didn't respond, just turned back toward the bedroom. She eyed the sink and sighed. He had real running water, but she decided to follow him. Maybe he had an actual bathtub, a rarity on Pental, where every luxury had to be imported. And if he wanted to just toss her down on the mattress and fuck her blind, then who was she to say no?

Instead of the small bedroom she'd expected, she found a spiral staircase leading downward, opening into a spacious, below-level apartment. The walls were pure stone but the space was open and warm. More bioluminescent lighting was rigged along the ceiling, the small blue-green creatures casting a cheery glow across the vast room.

“I never would have guessed this was here.” Alison marveled at the luxurious accommodations. “You're quite the enigma, aren't you, Fenton?”

The left corner of his mouth kicked up in what she guessed was as close as he came to a smile. “Facilities are this way.”

Alison's mouth dropped open when she saw the natural hot spring and pool that acted as his bathtub. With a happy cry she dropped his coat on the floor and started yanking panels off her hideous skirt.

Fenton turned abruptly away, so he wasn't looking at her. “I'll leave you to it,” he croaked before striding from the room.

Alison was too excited to puzzle over his bizarre behavior. Shedding her clothes, she hurried to the side of the pool and sat her bare backside down on the cool rock before dipping her toes into the water. The temperature was perfect and she pushed off, letting her entire body sink beneath the surface, reveling in the pure joy of swimming herself clean. Oil floated on the surface, the nasty stuff dispersing in the massive pool. Never again would she coat her body with that hideous gunk.

Pental no longer had water on its surface, but these underground hot springs made life sustainable. Alison only had ever heard of them from a few of the tourist selectmen who frequented the casino. A place like this was beyond astronomical in price. Clearly tonight's winnings were not Fenton's first.

Why would a man with that kind of money serve in the military? A sense of patriotism, perhaps? Or possibly as a kind of penance. Clearly he'd loved a whore at one time. She'd picked up on his use of the past tense. Whether the woman died or left him, she'd obviously broken his heart. Stupid slag. Alison wouldn't be anywhere near that foolish. A kind, scarred, yet good-looking man with money was definitely a keeper.

Yes, Fenton was a prize, one she had every intention of winning.

 

Despite his resolve not to touch her, Fenton couldn't help his physical reaction to the display of Alison's body. Her pale skin glowed in the bioluminescent lighting, and he'd enjoyed the soft bounce of her tits beneath the thin fabric of her top. A little too much. An erection wasn't something he needed to deal with right now.

He had much to accomplish. Taking time to fully enjoy a woman, the way his kind craved, was not a quick or simple task. And it was dangerous too. Letting his guard down for any amount of time was a risk he couldn't afford to take.

But her sweet form stirred him as no other had ever done. He'd never had difficulty stifling his attraction before. What was it about her that sought out the cracks in his protective shielding and seeped into the man underneath?

The man who'd made so many mistakes, who'd lost so much.

Moving to his secret chamber, Fenton pressed his hand to the scanner and didn't flinch when the needle snagged a sample of his DNA. When he'd first arrived on Pental, he'd taken over the overlord's private suite, part of his reward for faithful service to Xander. Throw the dog a bone. Now that Xander had left the Hosta System, the rebel leaders would come for him. The overlord had escaped punishment, but his minions would pay the price in his stead.

A few had already touched down and were hunting him even now. The price on his head was obscenely high, considering he was nothing but a grunt. It took triple that amount to secure safe passage on a luxury cruiser, a fee Fenton didn't have until he won tonight. Going to the casino had been a hell of a risk, but his back was to the wall. Eventually the hunters would find him and put him down like a rabid dog.

So bedding Alison was a bad idea, no matter what his body craved. As his DNA was confirmed and the door opened, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was still preoccupied with her bath, before stepping inside the chamber.

The sole content of the room was only a meter long and two deep. The low humming sound assured him that the stasis pod was active and it had not been disturbed. The sleek outer casing was opaque but turned clear when he pressed his palm to it. This was the only thing that mattered, the only thing he would take with him when he departed, other than the clothes on his back and the credits in his pocket.

Staring at the outside of the pod, he remembered the last time he'd seen Gili. She'd been pale from the wasting sickness that ate her from the inside out. The pod had been beside her deathbed, looking the same two cycles ago as it did now. At first he couldn't believe what she'd done, what she asked of him.

Her voice had rasped like crumbling leaves. “Promise me.”

He'd gripped her small, pale hand in his, as he'd done countless times. A gesture of connection between brother and sister, to reassure her and let her know he would always be there for her. This time, the contact was for his sake. “Don't do this to me. Don't leave me alone with this responsibility.”