DeadlyPleasure (3 page)

And he would never tell her that he wanted more.

“You are without doubt the most tenacious lover I’ve ever
had.”

The calmly stated words raised Forty-Two’s head and he met
Falynn’s heavy-lidded gaze. “Would that have anything to do with the fact I
have a million-year power lifetime?”

Sitting up with fluid ease, Falynn raked her fingers through
her tousled hair, scraping the long dark strands back into a tight knot at her
nape. She cocked a finely arched eyebrow, fixing him with a level look, the
consummate assassin once more. “No. It has everything to do with the fact you
don’t like to admit defeat.”

Forty-Two straightened from the sleeping station and gave
her a wide grin, ignoring the thick tension squeezing his E.S.O.U.L’s core
processor. “R42s were not designed to admit defeat. Defeat is a human
weakness.”

Falynn rolled her eyes, an easy if somewhat exasperated
smile curling her lips. “You ’droids think you’re so superior.”

Forty-Two grinned back before retrieving his trousers from
the nearby counter. “That’s because we are.” He casually flung the worn leather
breeches over his shoulder and effected a smug expression. “Well, not the
JCN-01s,” he said before turning away from the bed to cross to the door. “Those
walking calculators are pathetic.”

Falynn shook her head, watching Forty-Two head toward her
ship’s cockpit, naked ass bunching and flexing with each stride, wide shoulders
almost brushing the passageway walls. They would be arriving at their
destination soon, and the ’droid made it his business to have
The Wisp
ready for any unexpected boarding. That essentially meant checking the array of
weapons hidden in various places throughout the small vessel in case of an
attack her skill and his size and programming couldn’t handle. In all honesty,
Falynn didn’t believe such a situation could arise, but she didn’t stop him in
his task. She knew why he did it.

Rising from the sleeping station, she crossed her quarters
and collected her suit from its crumpled place on the floor. She hadn’t told
Forty-Two she wanted to be fucked. Hard, fast, brutal fucking that would take
away her painful memories for a time. As always, his precise calculations of
her bio-rhythms alerted him to her needs before she could part her lips.

She hadn’t expected him to be quite so savage in undressing
her though.

She trailed her fingers over the soft and extremely supple
blood-red leather unitard, convinced she would finally find a tear in the
nearly indestructible garment.

Nothing. Still as immaculate as the day she’d collected it
from UZ supplies.

Slipping into the second-skin, she activated its fastening
device, nipples pinching into hard peaks as it zipped closed from navel to neck
with a slight tickling sensation.

She jerked on the matching custom-designed boots with the concealed
neuron spikes in the toes, slid her Trelletian gutting blade into its holster
on her left thigh and exited the room, heading for the cockpit. She didn’t
consult the small mirror beside the door before exiting, despite Forty-Two
having scored the flesh on her collarbone with his blunt nails as he’d stripped
her. She never looked at her reflection anymore. There were only so many times
you could look into empty eyes, a killer’s eyes, before conviction became
self-contempt.

Tugging her hair free from the knot at her nape, she braided
the straight black curtain into a long plait, securing the end with a tiny
circle of razor elastic before letting it slide over her shoulder to lightly
slap the small of her back. She’d blinded more than one opponent with the
minute blades. No one expected to be attacked by hair, no matter how seasoned a
fighter they were.

Dropping into the pilot’s chair beside Forty-Two, she
studied the star-spotted blackness of space outside
The Wisp
before
turning to the ’droid. Somewhere between her quarters and the cockpit, he’d
dressed—as much as Forty-Two ever did. Long, thick legs were encased in black
leather combat trousers and calf-high boots. That was it. “Where are we?”

Forty-Two stabbed a navi-key on the control deck and turned to
her, the diodes in his eyes flashing a cheeky bright blue. “Four point seven
zero one clicks from destination.” He gave her a broad grin. “What’s the game
plan this time?”

Falynn shrugged, leaning back in her seat and crossing her
ankles on
The
Wisp’s
control deck. “The target’s male. Standard
seduce and terminate procedure.”

A gleam of iridescent green glowed in Forty-Two’s eyes and
then he chuckled, running a hand over his hairless scalp. “And here I was
thinking you had dressed like a Slessorian pleasure worker to impress
me
.”

Falynn returned her attention to the void before her,
feeling just as devoid of life. “Not dressed to impress, Forty-Two,” she
murmured. “Dressed to kill.”

The ’droid regarded her, eyes glowing a muted violet. As
always, Falynn waited for him to say something, her gut tight. She knew his
bio-scans told him exactly what her body was doing, but did they tell him what
her
heart
was feeling?

Huh. What heart?

“Intel?”

Forty-Two’s question made her start and she scowled. Kiirs,
she was being pathetic. Shaking her head, she pulled an annoyed face. “Very
little. No name. No physical description. Just a location and employment title.
Sector Seven A, Fourth Quadrant, Secular System. Spaceport Mercy. Head bouncer
for a bar called The Steam.” She straightened in her seat and adjusted
The
Wisp’s
energy output, kicking up the vessel’s sub-space slip. “The job has
one interesting twist though. The target is in possession of a GU bio-weapon.
After the hit, I need to procure the weapon and return it to GU HQ
immediately.”

Forty-Two’s eyebrows rose. “May I assume the intel on the
bio-weapon is vague?”

Falynn nodded, returning her feet to their previous position
on the control deck. “Just as vague as the hit. All I know is the target has it
in his possession and it’s called M.E.Lii.” She frowned. “Odd name for a weapon
if you ask me.”

A low-pitched siren sounded and Forty-Two straightened,
hitting a small key beside the helm to silence the alarm. “Odd or no, the fun
is about to begin. We will be docking at Spaceport Mercy in one point five nine
clicks.” He nodded at Falynn. “Time to get your game face on.”

“I don’t want to.”

Corvan kept his expression calm, flicking Emylie a quick
look as she came to a sudden halt. He hitched her school bag higher onto his
shoulder. It contained little. The apple he’d bought her last night, a small
holo-slip containing a continuous loop of Koftii singing the obscure Old Earth
song,
Stray Cat Blues
, during a particularly intoxicated karaoke session,
and an innocent-looking com-badge that was really a neuron-destabilizer. He
didn’t like the thought of Emylie with such an effective weapon, but he liked
the thought of her being unprotected even less. And he couldn’t keep her locked
up in their apartment around the clock, no matter how efficient Mare’ree was.
To do so would make him just as cruel as the GU scientist he’d rescued her
from.

He placed his hand gently on the back of her head, the soft
coolness of her hair like a cloud against his calloused palm. “It won’t be for
long, Em. Just an hour after school. Besides, you
should
be having fun
with your friends. Jymia seems like a very nice girl and her parents are—” He
stopped himself before saying “harmless.” “Nice.” He cringed at the lame
recovery.

A frown creased Emylie’s forehead and she turned her head
away from him, staring stubbornly at a small red moon through the passageway’s
expansive portholes as if it had suddenly become the most important thing in
her world. “I don’t want to.”

Smoothing his hand down to her shoulder, he tugged her
closer to his body, giving her a small grin. “You can’t spend every waking
minute with me, Em, otherwise you’ll turn into a cranky old man with wrinkles
all over your face and hair sprouting from your ears.”

Emylie wrapped her arm around his thigh, her small fingers
gripping his leg with surprising force. “You don’t have wrinkles,” she
muttered, stare still locked on the distant moon.

He laughed. “You’re right. I don’t have wrinkles, and I hope
my ears are hair-free. But you need to spend
some
time with children
your own age, Em. You’ll have fun. I promise.”

“I won’t.”

Corvan suppressed a sigh. He understood her reticence. For
three years she’d been held captive by the Galactic Union. Experimented on,
inflicted with pain the likes of which she still refused to divulge. He’d taken
her away from that, saved her, but he could never remove the memories. For
Emylie, the minutes away from his side, from the safety of his presence, were
long, anxious moments fraught with the possibility of recapture.

It tore him apart inside but he didn’t know what else to do.
She
did
need to interact with children her own age. For her
psychological health and emotional development. She needed to learn how to
laugh and play and be a kid. He couldn’t teach her that. He didn’t know what it
was to be a kid; his own childhood had been spent in the Phase Pits, being
beaten and brutalized in pursuit of becoming his people’s ultimate killer. He
could teach her how to tear open a man’s throat with her hands, but how to play
hopscotch?

He let out another sigh. Fri’ac, he wasn’t meant for this
kind of emotional attachment.

“Mare’ree could collect me from school?”

He looked down at Emylie. The fear in her eyes, swirling
there like a building storm, squeezed his throat tight but he shook his head.
“Mare’ree is due for her scheduled maintenance,” he placed his finger on
Emylie’s lips just as she opened them, “and before you ask,
no
. You
can’t go with her. Level 18 is no place for a little girl. Even one carrying a
destabilizer.”

Emylie scowled. “What’s the good of teaching me how to look
after myself if I’m never allowed to go any…” Her diatribe faded away, cheeks
growing pink as the flaw in her line of reasoning became obvious.

Corvan laughed and gave her a gentle nudge with his hip.
“You’ll have lots of fun with Jymia, you’ll see.” He tapped the small metal
band wrapped around her wrist. “And I’ll be just a com-link away. If you want
me, I’ll be by your side in a second.” And he would. Literally. Even if he had
to use skills he’d vowed to avoid when first going into hiding with Emylie.

She stared up at him, eyes wide, face serious. “Promise?”

He smiled. “Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

The muscles in her tiny body relaxed, a little, and she gave
him a small smile in return. “No.”

“And I never will.”

They walked the remaining steps to Emylie’s school and he
ran a slow, thorough inspection over the immediate area. Children of all
species skipped and chatted and giggled as they streamed inside, some kissing
and hugging their parents goodbye, some casting nervous glances at Corvan, some
waving to
parents
who cast nervous glances at Corvan. A few smiled at
Emylie as they walked by, one young Zondarian boy giving her a shy wave.

Her teacher, a middle-aged Ezilian with a well-known dislike
for the GU and no criminal record Corvan could uncover, stood at the entryway,
greeting the students as they passed. She raised her head after greeting one
particularly enthusiastic child and gave Corvan a quick nod.
She will be
watched
, the nod said.

Corvan nodded back. No one on Port Mercy knew who he or
Emylie really were, nor Emylie’s relationship to Corvan, but they all knew one
thing—when it came to Emylie, you didn’t piss him off.

Turning back to her, Corvan dropped into a crouch, holding
Emylie’s fingers loosely in his. “You know why I took the day shift, today?” he
asked, looking into her eyes. “So I could come get you from Jymia’s as soon as
I finish work.

She stared at him for a still moment, solemn, serious. “As
soon
as you finish work.”

Corvan dipped his head a little closer to hers. “Oh, and
watch out for Frejik. I think he has a crush on you.”

Bright-red heat flooded Emylie’s cheeks and she burst into
giggles, her small body squirming with innocent embarrassment and delight as
she took her school bag from his shoulder. “Ewww!”

With a grin and a tap of his finger on her nose, Corvan
stood. The hardest part of his day started now. Walking away from her. Leaving
her. Removing her from his line of sight, his protection, for seven hours or
more. He drew in a deep breath and took a step back, watching Emylie turn and
walk toward the school’s entry. He didn’t move, knowing the morning’s routine
was not yet complete.

Five steps away from him, she turned around, eyeing him with
grave earnestness. “Are we safe?”

He smiled. “We are safe.”

She smiled back, the sun bursting through the clouds,
hitched her bag onto her shoulder and walked into school.

Corvan watched her disappear through the entry before
turning away. The Steam waited.

* * * * *

Falynn draped her left arm across the back of the seat,
raising a squat glass of Bundaberg Black Label Rum to her lips with her right
as she studied the crowded bar. The Steam definitely was popular. Species from
every corner of the known galaxy packed the place, drinking, dancing, playing
bok’i and making out. A number of them watched a large Felinia slur his way
through a karaoke tune, cheering as the creature swiveled his—whoops, no, make
that
her
—hips in time to the slow, infectious beat.

“That is a
cat
singing on the stage, correct?”
Forty-Two asked, raising his voice to be heard over the din. “My optical
sensors are not malfunctioning?”

“Your optical sensors are not malfunctioning.” Falynn cocked
an eyebrow and took a sip of rum. “She
is
singing, although I don’t
think she’ll be signing any recording contracts soon.”

She scanned the crowd, studying each patron with seemingly
indifferent attention. The head bouncer might be somewhere in the bar but she
didn’t think so. Not yet, at least. Something about the uneasy tension in the
barkeeper’s face told her the woman’s main muscle wasn’t present and accounted
for.

Lifting her glass once again, she swallowed the remainder of
her drink and then stood. “I’m going to get another,” she said, giving
Forty-Two a loaded look.
Intel time.

The ’droid nodded, crossing his arms and effecting a bored
expression as he watched the Felinia wail her way into another song. To anyone
looking at him, Forty-Two was just another patron.

She weaved her way through the crowd, brushing off a drunken
Antillan’s advances with polite force before sliding onto a vacant stool at the
bar. Ordering her drink, she twisted on her seat, casting the muscled Doirnn
beside her a long look. “Is it always this busy?”

The Doirnn flicked a dismissive look her way—and then looked
again, lips stretching into a wide smile as he swiveled his seat to face her.
“Always,” he answered, leaning slightly toward her, bright orange eyes skimming
over her body in obvious approval. “They come for the booze and stay for the
entertainment.”

Falynn lifted her drink to her mouth, touching the rim of
the glass with the tip of her tongue in a slight caress. “The Felinia?”

The Doirnn’s stare jerked from her mouth to her eyes, his
own tongue wetting his lips with a quick lick. “That, and the show that usually
takes place later in the night. There’s a running bet between the regulars on
how many ribs my boss will break on the first problem customer he deals with.”

Pulse quickening, Falynn shifted slightly in her seat,
leaning closer to her new chatty friend. She placed her fingers indecently high
up on his leg, skimming the bulge between his thighs with her fingernails.
“Your boss?”

The Doirnn nodded, nostrils flaring slightly. “The head
bouncer.”

“And when does
that
show begin?”

He chuckled, repositioning his legs so his knees framed
hers. “Depends on Jareth’s mood. If someone’s stupid enough to piss him off
when he first starts his shift, it could be within the next twenty minutes.”

Falynn suppressed a cold grin. Kiirs was smiling on her
tonight. If all went well, she and Forty-Two could be back on
The Wisp
within the hour.

“He’s that nasty, is he?” She slid forward slightly,
pressing her thighs more firmly against the man’s knees. She took another sip
of rum, gazing at her newfound source of intel with feigned rapt attention over
the rim of her glass.
Tell me more
, her eyes said.
You are so
fascinating and I want to sleep with you.

The Doirnn shook his head, his hands finding their way to
her hips, then her ass a second later. “Not nasty. Just fast. And big. And
strong. No one fucks with Jareth.” He grinned, tugging her closer to his
crotch. “All his team is the same. Strong. And big.
Real
big.” He gave
her ass a squeeze. “Not all of us are opposed to being fucked with though…if
you get my meaning.”

Falynn trailed her fingertips over the bunched curve of his
thigh, nibbling on her bottom lip with her teeth as she pushed her breasts
closer. “Oh, I want to know more. When do you finish?”

The bouncer’s nostrils flared wider. “As soon as the boss
lets me.”

Falynn pouted, sliding her hand from his leg even as she
thrust her breasts farther forward. “And when will that be?”

“How ’bout I ask him?” He looked at something—
someone
—standing
behind her. “Can I finish early today, Boss?”

“No, Diirch,” a very familiar voice rumbled. “You can’t.”

Falynn’s throat slammed shut. Her eyes widened, every muscle
in her body locking tight. She stared at Diirch, telling herself she’d heard
wrong. It
wasn’t
him. It couldn’t be.

Of course it is. How could you ever mistake his voice?

Diirch pulled a face then turned back to Falynn,
straightening from his stool to give her ass one last fondle. “Maybe later.” He
shot his boss—Jareth?—a look almost bordering on reverence. “I’m on the door,
Boss.”

With one last regretful inspection of Falynn’s body, the
Doirnn pushed his way into the crowd, heading in the direction of The Steam’s
entry.

Falynn watched him go from the corner of her eye, unable to
move. She felt the bar’s head bouncer standing behind her. Close. She knew who
it was. She felt him. In her gut. In her sex.

In her heart. The one she always swore she didn’t have.

“I’m not surprised UZ sent you.”

Unit Zero Agent Thanatos’ smooth voice slipped into her
ears, a smoky caress of her senses. Her nipples pinched hard, her breath caught
in her throat. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, and gazed blankly at the
empty stool before her, the noise of The Steam fading…fading…until all she
could hear was the sound of Thanatos’ slow, even breaths and the deafening beat
of her heart.

Kiirs. What the fuck did she do now?

You turn around and look at him.

Forcing a calm expression on her face, she pivoted on her
stool, fixing the man towering over her with an indifferent glare. He hadn’t
changed. He was still as menacing and gorgeous as the last time she’d seen him.
“Well, I
am
the best assassin the GU has.”

A sardonic, barely perceptible grin played with the corners
of his mouth. A mouth she felt every night in her dreams and cursed every
morning she awoke. “
Second
best.”

With the force of an exploding quasar, every second of
worry, despair and misery she’d felt since Thanatos’ disappearance three years
ago smashed through her. She leapt to her feet, her concealed gutting blade in
her right hand before the soles of her boots hit the floor.

Or at least, it should have been.

Instead, in a blur, Thanatos gripped her wrist, pinning her
hand to her thigh. His silver stare locked onto her eyes, his hard, massive
frame pressed to her body. Immobilizing her. He shook his head, a slow,
condescending and altogether smug motion that never broke their eye contact.
“Now, now, Proserpina.” His voice caressed her senses. “I thought I taught you
to control your emotions.”