Marked for Danger (2 page)
He didn't speak, but he took off her bra and used a knife to remove her skirt. All her strength had to be used to remain on her knees, the chain pulled taut between her ankles and her wrists. His hands were hot on her skin, traveling, learning every curve, every crease. Her breasts jutted out, and she gasped when he took one nipple into his warm mouth. She almost whimpered in protest when he stopped.
He stood in front of her and spoke. “I want your eyes on me, machinka. You will call me Master. I don't want you quiet. You'll beg me for what you need, and you'll do it loudly."
"No, please,” she whispered.
He lifted his hand, and she flinched. When his fingers tangled in her hair and tipped her head to force her to meet his gaze, his face was somber. “Yes. The more you whisper, the worse your punishment."
Punishment? She was a Blueshift Brotherhood assassin. What could he do? She pursed her lips and glared at him.
He nodded sharply. “Punishment it is."
When he stepped away, she almost protested but caught herself in time. Then he retrieved a strange device from a wall cupboard. It was long, like a dildo, but had a programming pad on the end of it. He pressed some buttons and then slid it slowly inside her pussy. She shuddered, almost losing her balance. The man's hand braced her so she would stay upright.
The dildo began to thrust inside her automatically. Slow and steady, it didn't penetrate deeply, and she longed to grab it to make it fuck her hard. Close, so close. Then he approached her with the first clip. Her eyes widened and jerked to his face. He stroked one of her nipples and then slid his fingers up to the sensitive skin on her arm.
She gasped when he pinched her flesh and clipped it. Pain ripped through her, but he wasn't done yet. Another clip. And another. He cupped her tits and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Heat curled in her belly, and then electricity shot through her as he clipped the skin of her belly even as he nibbled her breast.
When she lost count of the clips, she lost her ability to remain quiet. For so long, she'd had to keep her words contained, deep inside her, written on her heart. The needs she had, the dreams that had shattered, the lies she told were all kept hidden, unspoken. Now, this man was driving her voice to the surface and demanded truth.
The slow torture of the dildo, the shooting pain from the clips, and his mouth everywhere drove her insane. “Please,” she managed, though her voice cracked.
His mouth was by her ear. “Louder."
"Please,” she said in a shout.
His finger rolled her nipples, and she arched closer to his hands. The demand in his eyes held hers captive. “Please what, machinka?"
She snarled at him and lunged. She would have toppled over, but he gripped her arm. “Goddamn you,” she shouted. “Fuck me. Make me come."
"No."
Tears streamed down her cheeks. The sizzle of pain from her pinched flesh and the wild yearning in her pussy flooded her senses. Her silent tears only emphasized what she already knew: she was broken, damaged goods. A killer who had rejected everything she believed for one thing—revenge. What would be left of her after her job was finished? Nothing. Nothing at all.
With a jerk, she tried to break his hold, to curl up in a ball of misery on the floor. All she'd wanted was a good fuck. Instead, she'd found a man who dominated her, understood her needs better than she understood them herself.
He gripped her chin. “You know what we both need."
She hiccuped and then nodded. “Master,” she whispered.
He pinched her nipple hard, and she gasped in pleasure-pain. “Louder,” he insisted.
"Master,” she screamed.
"I am your master,” he said, and his hand reached down and manipulated the buttons on the dildo. “You will not come until I order you to. Do you understand?"
She swallowed. “Yes,” she said through a tight throat.
The dildo began to thrust deep, touching her very soul. Her orgasm gathered, rolling everything in front of it away. She desperately tried to stop the wave of pleasure, jerking the restraints to rub them roughly against her skin. “I can't, Master,” she wailed.
"God, you're beautiful. Stunning. If you could only see what I see,” he said, his tone rough.
She gasped and twisted to stop the onslaught of her release. “Help me,” she cried.
"Yes,” he hissed and removed one of the clips. The throb of pain shoring up her resistance for only a second before it beat at her door again. Again, he unclipped another one of the clips, and the blood rushed back to the bruised skin. Marks were all over her skin, and she used the sting to keep her orgasm at bay. But soon the rush of adrenaline only added to her intense pleasure.
"Master, I can't—” Her voice broke, and she shattered like glass.
The orgasm blew through her, ripping away carefully placed shields, leaving her wide open. Every nerve in her body twitched and stretched, and every muscle clenched. She couldn't control the keening cry that poured from her mouth. She convulsed and squeezed the dildo hard.
She was still shuddering with the force of her release when he opened the restraints, and she was crushed against him for a soul-shattering kiss. His tongue devoured her mouth as the dildo still thrust inside her pussy. Helplessly, she arched against him, her bruised body desperate for his.
He laid her down on something soft, like a mattress, and removed the dildo. His mouth dipped down to taste her, own her, drive her even higher than any mechanical device ever could. Words tumbled from her lips. “Oh God, your mouth. So good. Please. Master. I want—I want—"
When he lifted his head, his volcanic gaze burned into hers. “What do you want?"
"Your cock. In me. Please, Master.” She didn't whisper her need. She said it. Out loud.
With an animalistic growl, he covered her body with his and plunged inside her. She wrapped her legs around him, driving him deeper, urging him to be rougher. He lifted her legs and opened her wider to his invasion. He stared at her, demanding, without words, to keep her eyes open.
Her hands free, she touched him. She cupped his face and wound her fingers in his hair. “Master, come inside me. Set me free,” she said.
It was erotic to watch him let go, to come for her. His neck muscles corded, and his face clenched, and it was all she could do to hang on, not to come.
But then it happened. She dropped off the edge, before she even realized what had happened. Burning pain, a ripping sensation combined with overwhelming pleasure that stunned her.
Her arm was on fire, licks of burning heat etching her skin and shriveling her nerves. The pain added to her pleasure, increasing it, extending it. She screamed a long ear-ringing wail.
Oh shit.
Burning. Pain. Her arm.
"Fuck,” he shouted and jerked his cock out of her, his cum spilling over her belly, her breasts, her neck, and splattering her face. One of his hands pumped his cock to spread more of his seed all over her. The smell was intoxicating, and she arched toward him.
Her arm still throbbed, and she glanced at it. Red lines were burned into her skin, a recognizable shape beginning to brand her. The bastard had almost marked her. Part of her reveled in the fact he wanted to possess her so much. But the fear was far more prevalent. Had he succeeded, the consequences, for her at least, could have been unimaginable. Yet, deep down, she wanted that mark desperately. She shut her brain off and ran on instinct. She needed to get away. Now.
Still dizzy from the force of their sexual collision, she managed to slip out from under him and stumble to the door.
"Wait,” he said, and he lunged for her, grabbing her ankle. She sprawled on the floor and managed to roll away from his hands.
He froze. “You're a Nyral female?” His gaze was riveted on her arm.
A combination of anger and fear spurred her to jump to her feet and then kick her leg out in a vicious swipe as she went. She nailed him in the gonads.
He crumpled to the floor, and she scrambled to open the door. Briefly she glanced back, afraid she might have hurt him. His breath hitched, and he glared at her. “You'll pay for that,” he growled and stumbled to his feet.
But then, she sprinted out the door, naked, cum stuck to her skin, frightened, with the mark of a
herwalk
, a bird of prey and a known enemy of the little machinka, burned faintly on her forearm.
Let your guard down for one minute, Xandros thought, and you'll get a foot to the dick every time.
Gingerly, he stepped toward the door and peered into the hallway after the small fleeting figure. He rubbed the red skin on the inside of his thigh. He'd never worried about marking a woman before. But something about this one obviously created an answering need in him.
Talk about inconvenient.
He knew the myths about Nyral mate marks. Hadn't he been raised on that garbage? Marks were a genetic anomaly, created when a man spurted his seed into a woman. There was nothing mystical about that. Oh, he'd heard the stories. He'd been fed the bullshit that mate marks tied two people together for eternity, that the connection transcended even death. Blah, blah, blah. Xandros was a practical man. His culture may have put some mystical meaning onto a simple physical phenomenon, but he wasn't going to fall for it. Still, it was odd to see the mark on his skin.
"What happened?” His second in command, Norton Ferris, appeared in the hallway. “Was that your naked chick I just saw sprinting across the club?"
"Yeah.” Xandros straightened his back and tried not to wince as he picked up his hastily discarded clothes. The dull throb changed to a sharp pain when he pulled his pants over his gonads, and he hissed a quick breath. Damn her. Xandros was well aware of the scrutiny of his subordinate.
"Want me to acquire her for you?” Ferris's brown eyes shone in the dim light of the club's corridor.
Hell yes, he wanted her. The minute he'd spotted the woman on the dance floor, he'd ached to possess her. Not just fuck her,
own
her. The second his hand had touched her neck, the minute she'd leaned against him, he'd been lost. Her surrender had spurred him, created heat that nothing, not even a kick to his balls, could cool.
But he didn't have time to chase down a mysterious woman who quenched his ravenous sexual appetite. Information had come to his attention, and he had to decide if he was going to use it or not. The whereabouts of Shaun Fenway was always big news these days.
His past had certainly come back to haunt him lately. He and Shaun had been friends as children but not close. Not like Xandros had been close to Leo Eyler. Yet on Nylar, Shaun and Leo had never met.
Now the two men seemed to be inseparable: one consort to Princess Sera Placido and the other some kind of bodyguard to the royal couple.
Xandros had often been criticized by his crew for being loyal to those from his past. The facts couldn't be argued. There weren't too many men from his childhood who remembered him. The ones who did were usually trustworthy.
He wiped the sweat from his face with a towel and then rolled his shoulders. Shaun had contacted him a few days ago. A lot of old contacts looked him up when they wanted something done covertly or needed illegal connections. But Shaun had the same connections Xandros did, so what the man wanted was a tantalizing mystery. Xandros had the choice to meet with him or turn him over to the Brotherhood. Shaun knew that. Of course, the fact that his old friend had been a Blueshift Brotherhood assassin turned good guy in a white hat riding with the almighty Leo Eyler was fascinating, and Xandros wanted to know the details.
It was this curiosity, this need to know, that drove him to peddling information the way a smuggler might peddle spaceship parts. For some reason, knowing made Xandros feel safe. He ignored that thought and focused on his second in command. “Our appointment is here?” Xandros hadn't told Ferris who he was meeting.
"He's waiting in one of the lounge rooms.” Ferris glanced around the dungeon, and Xandros noted the way Ferris's lip curled. The man clearly found the sexual escapades of his captain disgusting. Xandros narrowed his eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd seen this. There was always a risk choosing men who weren't from his planet, who didn't understand his culture. In the long run, they just didn't accept him. Time for a new right-hand man.
"Right. How long have you been on the
Ariana
, Ferris?” He slipped past his second, and Ferris fell in step with him.
"Three years."
Xandros nodded briefly. That was long enough. Ferris had been a good man in a fight, but lately he'd been shying away from the dirtier aspects of the job. They were halfway down the hallway when Xandros asked, “What's her name?"
Ferris stopped dead, his stringy muscles tense, and his pointed chin shot up. “What?"
Xandros sighed. “I'm not stupid, Ferris. You've been less eager to put your life on the line, a little more nervous about some of our murkier jobs. That usually means a woman."
"Captain—"
"I'll give you a good severance package, Ferris, don't worry.” It would be easy to get rid of the man. Money was great leverage.
"I always thought—” Ferris swallowed nervously.
Xandros snorted. “Spit it out, Norton.” The man's first name was hardly ever used, and he had the totally inappropriate thought that it would sound weird if a woman screamed it in the throes of an orgasm.
"I wouldn't think you'd want me to leave. With what I know."
Xandros stared at the man, noting he sweat and shook. The sneaky shit. Xandros grinned. “I've never had a problem."
Ferris's eyes narrowed. “No? No one blabbed?"
The grin fell away, and Xandros studied the man. “Not and lived."
When Ferris cleared his throat and gazed at his shoes, Xandros proceeded to the lounge room. He shook his head. He'd thought Ferris would have more of a backbone. Love. It fucked a man all up.
At the door, he left Ferris outside the meeting room and strode inside.
Shaun Fenway had changed quite a bit. His hazel eyes had always seemed on the verge of laughter when he'd been young. Now they were watchful. Bitter. Old. He was tall and muscular, in good shape. There was a sculpted look to his arms and legs that told Xandros the man was used to taking care of himself.