No Rules (8 page)

The suite was unoccupied when he strode in, the beige walls looking no more remarkable than the empty closet in his cabin. Pressing his thumb to the credit panel, he waited while his universal credits were deducted and a small box containing six silver disks slid out of the wall.

Attaching the self-adhesive side to his pulse points, he imagined the gambling hell at Madam Brizella's the night he'd met Alison. Too much had been at risk that night for him to lose control the way he'd wanted, but now, with all he protected secured . . .

Closing his eyes, he imagined the room just as it had been before he'd won Alison. Her at the bar, Mig making that stupid bet. The sounds, the smells, the charged and almost desperate air. The murmur of voices, the feel of his uniform against his skin. He held the image there, allowing the ring to absorb his memory and project it into reality.

Someone bumped into him, jolting him from his concentration. Lifting his lids, he smiled in grim satisfaction as he saw the Hibariate perched on his stool, sharp teeth gleaming. Alison, back in her whore's garb, clutched her arm where the fiend had bitten her.

For the first time in his life, Fenton released his control. With a roar of rage, he picked up the Hibariate replica and flung him across the room. The scrape of chairs and the shatter of glass filled the small space. Around him, fights broke out, fists connecting and men grunting. Whores ran for cover—all but Alison, who watched him with a mixture of hope and awe in her beautiful eyes.

Mig recovered quickly and launched himself in a counterattack. The force that knocked Fenton onto his back felt real, and his training kicked in along with a surge of adrenaline. Though the Hibariate was half his size, he fought viciously, keeping Fenton on his toes.

Someone hit him across the back with a solid object, probably a bar stool. Mig took advantage and sank his teeth into Fenton's thigh. The pain was all too real, and dots floated before his eyes.

Tucking down into a roll, he tumbled forward. The sudden move shook the Hibariate free and more blood gushed from his leg. Alison rushed forward, cloth in hand. “Are you all right?”

Her concern sounded genuine, and for a moment, Fenton forgot that this was all just a product of his fantasy. Ignoring the pain, the chaos surrounding them, he clasped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her lips down to his. The kiss consumed him as her sweet mouth sealed over his, her soft body rubbed against him in an evocative way. As his desires changed, so did the setting. The bar faded away, and between one heartbeat and the next, they were back on board the cruise ship. His leg was healed and her clothes were gone, so there was nothing to stop his questing hands as they explored her luscious form.

Nothing except the clapping. One pair of hands in a slow rhythm that seemed to mock him. The discordant sound, probably some defect in the program, brought reality back to Fenton with collision-course impact. Shame burned through him and he ripped the disks off his pulse points.

The clapping continued. Turning his head, he saw a tall, lanky man leaning against the doorway. His skin was deathly white, his hair cropped to his skull. He wore an ill-fitting ship's uniform, the sleeves too short and the shirt too loose for his lean frame. At first glance he didn't appear to be much of a threat, but one look into his soulless black eyes had every hair on Fenton's arms standing on end. This man was a killer.

“Del Fenton. You are a difficult man to find.”

“Who are you?” Fenton scowled at the intruder.

“One who seeks. I believe you have something I've been looking for.” His smile was the most unpleasant sight Fenton had ever beheld.

He opened his mouth to respond but pain flooded over him, a tidal wave that made the injuries he'd sustained via the holo-ring seem like mere annoyances. Panting, he fell to his hands and knees, willing the agony away.

Shiny black boots moved into his line of sight as the man stood over him. The agony abated but left every muscle twitching.

The stranger's voice was low and even, as though they were discussing new trade routes over drinks. “Now, tell me. Where is Alison Cartwright?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Fenton gasped as the searing blaze consumed him again.

“I was going to make this easy on you.” The man crouched down, his dark eyes like gates to the void as he watched Fenton writhe. “A quick death, unlike the Hibariate. I can show compassion when I choose to. Just give me the whore and it'll all end. No more needless suffering.”

Again the shock as the torture shut off left him gasping. His eyes watered and his throat had closed up. Death would be a relief for him, not just from the stranger and his abilities but because his burdens were so heavy.

“What are you going to do with her?” Del wheezed.

His torturer actually smirked. “Does it matter? She's just a whore.”

Just a whore. Like his sister. Not really a person, just a thing to be used and discarded. Clarity broke through the haze of pain. Fenton suffered because he was the only one who cared. Without him, Alison would be left at the mercy of this evil bastard.

In that moment, he recognized that he'd done his best for Gili and he could do no less for Alison. If he was to die either way, he would die as her protector.

Distantly he thought of the pod, his mission, his promise, then let it go as he stared into the face of destiny.

“Last chance, Fenton. Be smart. Tell me, where is Alison?”

“Right here, you sick fuck,” she said from behind him.

A
lison's plans to confront Fenton were jettisoned into space as she met the assassin's soulless gaze. She'd been running from him for so long, afraid of what he'd do when he caught her, that witnessing him coercing Fenton to relate her whereabouts was like a dream.

But the blood trickling from Del's ears and nose were all too real. Seeing him bleed, almost ready to die for her, caused something to shift in her mind. Hell, maybe she had snapped because instead of running, she stood her ground and lifted her chin, her eyes trained on her doom.

“Alison? It's been so long, I hardly recognize you.” His smirk told her he found her downhill slide into homeliness amusing.

“A lot of things have changed.” Fenton lay still behind him, showing no signs of movement. Was she too late?

“Indeed. You've led me on a merry chase, and were much more resourceful than anyone at Illustra ever imagined. And here I always thought you were just a pretty face.”

Another dig she let roll off her back. “Leave him alone, he's just a john I've been using. Not his fault his dick got him into trouble.”

The assassin actually smiled, an unpleasant twist of cruel lips. “Oh, you poisonous harpy, how you wound the male ego with your sharp barbs. And here the poor fellow was falling in love with you. You should have seen the fantasy I interrupted. That'll teach him.”

She'd forgotten how much the assassin loved the game of cat and mouse. How he liked to play with his prey. “Only if you let him live, so much the wiser. Illustra has no gripe with him, and I've told him nothing of value.”

Those empty eyes narrowed to snake-like slits. “You told him about
you
. Why is that? You were never the type to share with your coworkers, let alone a mark. What makes this one different?”

She shrugged. “He wasn't. It was just another tactic to keep him interested. He likes to play the hero, rescue the baby bird with the broken wing. I thought my tragic past would help sway him.” Fenton stirred, still out of it. If she could only keep the assassin talking long enough, maybe they could figure a way out of this.

“I think you're lying. One way to find out.”

Time wasn't on her side as the throbbing started in her skull. Memories she'd suppressed, things she'd buried in the darkest recess of her mind flowed to the forefront in a barrage of images and the feelings attached to them. Summer at the lake with her mom and Sally, her first training session as a pleasure companion, the screams of the empaths as they were contained, the connection when she met Fenton's gaze the very first time.

Her knees hit the deck as sensations bombarded her, every feeling in the range of human emotion churning in a frothing sea of shattered glass, cutting her, making her bleed until she was in danger of drowning in her own blood.

Then it stopped, left her huddled and panting on the floor with tears tracking down her cheeks. She cried silently, all too aware that she'd reached the end.

The assassin crouched down, so he could meet her gaze once more. “Just as I suspected. Sometimes I hate being right.”

His words made no sense, but since her brain had been scrambled like an egg, she wasn't surprised. “Let him go.”

One midnight eyebrow rose. “Self-sacrifice even? From you? Will wonders never cease?”

He was a maggot, a disgusting filthy malevolent bottom-feeder who gorged himself on other people's pain. Fenton stirred again and she swallowed hard as she met and held his gaze. “I'll give you whatever you want. Just let him go.”

He actually sneered at her, bringing his black-gloved hand to circle her throat. “You're not my type. Good-bye Alison.”

All the air seemed to be sucked from her lungs in a rush. She writhed, struggling to breathe, to fight even though she knew it was impossible. Her vision tunneled and filled with little black dots and her mind fuzzed over.

A clang resounded through the room and the pressure on her chest eased. She sucked in air gratefully, coughing, and struggled to sit up.

Even though he still lay on the floor with his back to her, Fenton also stood over her, holding a large metal chair. The assassin had crumpled to the deck in a heap, obviously unconscious.

Tossing the chair aside, Fenton knelt down and ran his hands over her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she wheezed and coughed again. “Thank you.”

He helped her to her feet just as his other self rolled to a crouch. They circled the assassin, the intention to finish him off clear.

Panic filled her. “Wait! You can't kill him!”

“Watch me,” the Fentons growled in unison.

“If you do, it'll release a plague on the entire sector.”

The Fentons froze, still poised to attack. “How?”

“His brain has been genetically altered. If he dies, the space where his mind was will act like a vortex, sucking in all the brain waves for a light-year. He's the ultimate killing machine, programmed to take out his targets by any means necessary.”

Slowly, Fenton recombined himself, then looked to her. “So how do we beat him?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea. That's why I've been running, hoping to evade him. If not for your gift, he would kill us both. He's telepathic and telekinetic and I've heard he can even take control of other people, like possession.”

“Then we are left with only one option.” Taking her hand in his, he led her from the room. Once the door closed behind them, he pulled a panel from the wall and yanked the wires out, sealing the room off.

“That won't hold him for long.”

“It doesn't have to.” Fenton tugged her through the corridors of the ship, heading back to her room.

“I don't think I should bother packing,” she argued as he tugged her through the door.

Fenton ignored her, instead going to the window seat. He rattled off a few commands, and the seat itself flipped over into a smooth 3-D command console. “Do you know how to fly?”

“Not well,” she admitted, moving to his side. “What is this?”

“The reason I chose this particular suite of rooms. Here's propulsion, docking clamps, navigation, communication.” He pointed each system out. “We can't go fast but we can go. And you're flying because I know nothing about space travel.”

“The suite is a ship?”

“We don't have much time, Alison.”

Taking a deep breath, she released the docking clamps. The entire room listed downward, and a giant shudder rocked them.

“What heading?” she asked.

He rattled off coordinates as if by rote. She had no idea where that course would take them or what he had planned next.

Fenton grabbed her around the waist with one hand and braced them against the bulkhead. Anything not bolted down tumbled forward and he grunted as various objects hit him.

“Sorry,” she said, fighting for altitude.

“I knew it was a bad idea to let you purchase so much stuff.” His tone was light, teasing almost.

The ship righted itself and she took a deep breath as she set their course. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you were enjoying yourself.”

The hand around her waist tightened, and she shivered as he breathed into her ear, “Maybe I am.”

His hard body pressed into hers, and there was no mistaking his erection. Unbelievable.

“Seriously? What about that turned you on?” After engaging the autopilot, she turned to face him.

He nuzzled the side of her neck. “It's complicated.”

For the first time in her life Alison wanted answers more than she wanted sex. Shoving him back, she whirled on her heel and snapped, “You are a moody pain in the ass, you know that? Before, I'm throwing myself at you and you couldn't get away fast enough. But now you know I have a demon straight from the fires of hell hunting for me, and you're all raring to go?”

His eyes were bright, his lids lowered with lust. “You have someone after you. You need protection.”

“And that's your hot button, huh?”

He shook his head and she saw him clench his fists at his side.

“Explain it to me, Del. Explain what's different now from an hour ago.”

 

“Everything,” he rasped, moving toward her again. He needed release so badly he could taste it, and with the autopilot engaged and the bed not even a foot away, all he could think about was stripping Alison to her skin and loving her body until they reached their destination. “We almost died.”

“I'm well aware of that.” Moving to the other side of the room, she started picking up random items. “What I don't understand is why you're all hot for me all of a sudden.”

“It's not all of a sudden.” The words came out more like a growl. “You have no idea how difficult it was for me to resist you earlier.”

“Then why did you? I'm a whore, Fenton. A sure thing and you still refused.”

“You're not a whore. You only did that because you had no other choice.”

Shoving an armload of clothing into the closet and sealing the door, she turned to face him. His heart nearly stopped when he saw her eyes were wet. “That's all I am. All I've ever been. Back on Earth, it was different. I was a pleasure companion, one of the best in the business. An hour with me cost more than most men earned in a month. And I made sure they got their money's worth.”

Shame burned color on her cheeks. “But I fucked up. Epically. I traded more than my body, I traded my soul. So don't sit there and kid yourself that I was only doing what I had to in order to survive. I'm not a good person. I'm not even a good whore anymore.”

He couldn't stand to see her cry. Slowly, so as not to startle her, Fenton moved closer until he tugged her into his embrace. She struggled at first, but he persevered until she was wrapped in his arms. Rocking back and forth he offered her silent comfort until she sagged, emotionally spent.

She was so soft and warm in his arms, she fit like she'd been born to mold into him. Hearing her confessions should have cooled his ardor, but he was still hard, still fighting the phase split.

Tilting her chin up he said, “Alison, listen to me. You risked your life to save me back there. I owe you my life. You aren't bad. I know, I've seen evil up close.”

“The overlord?” she mumbled.

Fenton wasn't sure how much she knew, but he refused to lie to her. “Yes. He was pure evil. He killed for sport, for pleasure, to alleviate his boredom. The deaths of my entire family are on his head. And to save myself I did some despicable things too. But I'm determined to atone for my sins as best I can.”

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. “You ever sleep with someone for money?”

“No. But my sister did.”

Raising her watery gaze to his, he watched her shock register. “What happened to her?”

“She died of wasting sickness. Gave of herself until there was nothing left to give. It was horrible to watch the disease consume her a little bit at a time.”

“I'm sorry.”

He nodded, accepting her softly spoken condolence. Fenton could have told her then about his mission, why he'd been resisting her, but she had that look, the one he'd seen on some of the men under his command, desolate and exhausted and utterly without hope.

“I only told you that because I want you to understand that I will not judge you on what you've done in the past. I see the person you are now, strong, self-sacrificing, a survivor. A beautiful, independent woman.”

She snorted, but he saw the pleasure creep over her face so he forged onward. “How did you learn so much about the culture in the Hosta System?”

“Observation mostly. I watched and listened to others to pick up what I needed to know.”

“And you've done this before, correct? Mimicked other cultures to help yourself blend in?”

Her teeth sank into her full lower lip but she nodded.

“Do you have any idea how impressive that is for me, someone who has never left his home sector before? Being a soldier, gambling and killing, is all I've ever done. But I hope to do more. I want you to show me how to be more.”

For a moment he worried he'd gone too far, because her eyes were once again filled with tears. But then she smiled beautifully. “I'd add sweet-talker to the list.”

He shook his head. “I'm only speaking the truth.”

His gaze dropped to her lips. Her tongue darted out, wetting them. His cock twitched and slowly, he gave in to the temptation to lower his mouth to hers. A soft puff of air escaped, a surprised and eager sound. The kiss heated and he pressed her up against the wall, tasting her fully, thoroughly, the way he'd been yearning to do. Her pliant body yielded to him with a sensual grace, melding around him, pulling him in deeper.

There was so much left unspoken between them. He still didn't know why that man with the uncanny abilities was after her, or what he could do now. But what he did understand was that Alison's life had been in danger before they'd ever met. Resisting her was pointless, fruitless, and he refused to waste his energy fighting her magnetic pull any longer.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and her legs wrapped around his waist. He rubbed against her, seeking her warmth and wetness. The hum that indicated the phase split was eminent spread through his body but he tamped it down, not wanting to share her right now, even with himself.

Breaking the kiss, he whispered low in her ear, “Share your body with me. For no other reason than because you want me as badly as I crave you.”

“Yes.” Her reply was breathless but immediate.