Silver Shark (14 page)

"I dreamed about you last night," he said. "When I woke up, I had a moment of clarity. I realized why I've been trying to include you in things I like and hoping you might like them as well. I need to know where we stand. As a client, you can't be fired. You're not really an employee - you receive a stipend from the family. You can't be deported. It would make certain things a lot easier. For example, if you want to reject an invitation from me, you could do so without..."

"Venturo," she said softly.

"Yes?"

"What do I have to do to become a client?"

"You would have to swear an oath linking you to the Escana family. And, of course, there is a mind link."

A wave of ice-cold fear washed over her. "A mind link?"

"Becoming a client requires a demonstration of absolute trust and submission," Ven said. "A sacrifice must be made. If you were a fighter with combat enhancements becoming a member of a warrior family, you would submit to a thorough background check and then you would walk up to your patron, hand him a blade, and allow him to stab you. You would do so without any move to defend yourself. We're psychers. We don't stab and we don't need background checks. We enter your mind and read it like an open book."

He would see. He would see
everything
.

Claire sat still, paralyzed.

She had to act. Kosta could be loaded on a spaceship by now. He would not betray her. He would trust her to stand by him. She was his officer. She had taken him on that mission. She had a duty to him.

"I understand that it's a huge commitment," Venturo said.

"I want immunity."

"I'm sorry?" His eyes narrowed.

"I want immunity," she repeated, her voice hoarse. "I don't want to be prosecuted for things you may see in my mind."

He grimaced. "In light of your exemplary service, I'm sure we can overlook the occasional theft of tea and cookies from the office. Everyone steals office supplies now and then."

"Venturo!"

He looked at her.

"I want immunity."

Ven growled under his breath. "You drive me crazy, Claire. I take you to the house of my best friend, and you get upset. I offer you the highest honor a
kinsman
family can bestow on an outsider and you haggle with me like I'm trying to sell you apples at the market. Just what is it you're hiding in your mind?"

"You will find out if you give me immunity."

He stared at her. Silence stretched.

"Fuck it. I have to know now. You have your immunity."

She rose. "Come with me."

He followed her. They almost collided with Lienne, as she opened the door of the office. Perfect.

"Follow me, please," Claire said.

Lienne arched her eyebrows. "What's going on?"

"I have no clue," Ven said. "Just play along."

Claire led them down the hallway to the conference room. Charles and Tonya scrambled up at their approach. Doreem struggled to rise. Claire crouched by him. "Do you want to save your grandson?"

"Yes," the old man breathed.

"Then you must adopt me. Write me into the building roll. Right now."

Charles lifted Doreem to his feet. The Building Manager took his scroll-tablet from his bag and handed it to Tonya. She held it up. Claire knelt. Doreem placed his hand onto Claire's hair. "By the power invested in my by War Council, I formally adopt Claire Shannon, Rank Captain, birth date of..."

"... Two thousand seven hundred and twenty six standard," Claire murmured.

"... two thousand seven hundred and twenty six standard into Nagi family as witnessed by these five witnesses."

Doreem pulled the stylus out and carefully wrote her name into the Nagi family and passed the tablet to Charles. Charles signed, gave it to Tonya, then the tablet made the rounds to Lienne, Venturo, and finally Edu.

Doreem examined signatures. "So witnessed. Rise, my daughter."

"Thank you." Claire rose and faced Ven. "Kosta is my nephew. Please make the call, patron."

Lienne's eyes widened. "Patron...
Patron?
"

"I will explain later." Ven took Claire by the hand. "Come on. You four go down to the security forces station to collect the boy."

"Venturo!" Lienne yelled.

"Later." Ven kept a firm grip on her fingers and led her to his office. They stepped inside. He touched his desk. The glass walls turned opaque, and the faint whoosh announced the activation of the sound barrier.

Ven dialed the number on the digital projection on his desk. "Captain Alvarra."

A long moment dripped by.

"Kinsman Escana," a male voice said. "What may I do for you?"

"You've apprehended a boy, Kosta Nagi. He is a nephew of my client, Claire Shannon Nagi."

"My apologies,
kinsman.
The boy bears our AI mark."

"He was playing on the bionet and stumbled into the wrong sector. I will be happy to pay the fine."

A number ignited in the corner of the screen. Fourteen thousand credits. More than a quarter of her yearly salary.

Venturo flicked a stylus.

"Thank you,
kinsman
. Shall I deliver the boy to his home address?"

"No need. His grandfather is coming to pick him up. Thank you for your assistance. You have been most helpful."

"My honor,
kinsman
."

The screen went dark.

So easy. It was so easy for him.

Venturo looked at her. "Feel better?"

"Yes."

"Rank Captain," he said.

"Everyone must have a rank of some sort." Claire desperately wanted to run away. The door was locked. She wouldn't get far in any case. Besides, she gave her word.

"I will initiate the mind link now," he said. "I'll do all of the work. All you have to is relax."

"Can I have a minute?" She began dismantling the shell from the inside.

"I'm afraid not." His mind enveloped hers, slicing through her surface thoughts.

Venturo's eyes widened. "What is this?"

She put more pressure on the shell.

"Open your mind, Claire."

"I'm trying. It takes time."

"I'm afraid I must insist."

His mind smashed into her shell. It cracked, caught between the pressure of their two minds. He pushed harder. The shell broke. Her mind soared free and she felt him surge through it, finding all of her secrets. He felt the raw grief of her team's death and the pain of the PPP. He saw the bionet, he saw the red cat, he saw himself as the beast on fire. He saw everything. She desperately tried to hide one tiny secret bit of self, the one filled with fantasies of him, with images of both of them, touching, kissing, making love, but he found it in a fraction of a second.

They sat across from each other, her mind glowing, completely revealed.

His jaw tightened. His mind was like a supernova, churning with anger and surprise.

Venturo rose from behind his desk and walked out.

Chapter Eight

Claire went home. There was nothing else left to do.

She walked into her apartment and sank on the couch. She felt exhausted, drained, as if nothing of her remained except for a thin shadow.

She should have felt relief. Finally Venturo knew. She wouldn't have to lie anymore. Her position as a client meant she would be safe from deportation. None of it mattered next to the look on his face. He looked betrayed.

She did betray him, his trust, all while she had fantasized about him. She felt small, shamed, and pathetic. She would cry, except she had no tears, so she curled into a ball hugging her knees.

A knock sounded through the door. Claire's mind soared, checking.

Venturo.

She pulled her knees tighter to her. No.

"Open the door, Claire."

No.

"Open the door."

She closed her eyes and willed him to go away.

An image blossomed in her mind: Venturo, nude, golden, his big body bracing hers. She was shameless and naked. His lips trailed the line of her neck.

Her whole body shivered in excitement, conjuring a physical response to the fantasy.

Claire tried to scrounge a mental shield.

In her mind Venturo flipped her, caressing her back, sliding his hands around her to cup her breasts, his fingers teasing her nipples, sending tiny electric shocks through her. A hungry yearning began to build inside her, a kind of emptiness that insisted to be filled. She felt the steel ridges of his stomach against her back and the thick length of his cock against her butt. Her head swam, as if she were drunk on pink wine.

His hard thigh nudged her legs open...

"Stop!"

"Why?"
Venturo's thoughts rolled through her mind.
"I'm only showing you what I found in your head."

"You were never meant to see it."

"Why not? I'm the object of your fantasies. I should be able to see them."

In her mind Venturo nuzzled her neck, stroking her breasts. The air turned too hot. Every nerve inside her hummed with pleasure. She felt the heat drain down, focusing between her legs, building into a thrilling ache. His right hand grasped her hip, his fingers hot on her skin. He pulled her closer and she felt him between her legs, stopping just short of thrusting into her.

"Stop..."

"You don't tell me you are a psycher. You meet me on the bionet and then you let me look for you for days like a complete idiot. You fantasize about me, but you don't let me know. You're terrible at sharing."

She had survived over eight hundred combat missions, yet she was terrified to open that door.

"Did you touch yourself while you thought of me, Claire?"

In her mind his hand slipped down, over her hip, tracing the sensitive curve of her stomach, down, lower, slipping between her lips. His fingers dipped into her, into the center of the ache, and came away slick with moisture. He flicked his fingertips against the sensitive bud of her clitoris.

Pleasure shot through her. She cried out.

"What's the matter? Am I not doing it right? Open the door and show me."

In her mind, the phantom Venturo leaned to her ear and said a single word.
"Coward."

If she didn't let him in, she would regret it for the rest of her life. "Open," she said.

The door slid aside, and he came through, pulling off his shirt as he walked, revealing the bronze skin of his muscled chest. He kicked off his shoes. His pants followed. She just watched, unable to move.

He stepped toward her. His arms caught her, pulling her to him. She saw his green eyes, dark with need, and he kissed her. She tasted him - the slight saltiness and spice - and smelled the exhilarating scent of his sweat mixing with a hint of his cologne.

His tongue slid into her mouth and found hers. Desire swept through her, melting the last remnants of inhibitions. His tongue licked hers, and in her mind, she was picturing him thrusting inside her. Their thoughts tangled in a glowing whirlpool and she saw herself in hismind, golden and beautiful, moaning in pleasure.

"I want you," he said, his voice ragged. "Do you want me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "
Yes
," her mind sang, "
Yes, yes, yes..."

He unzipped her dress, slipped it off her shoulders, and it fell down. His hands eased her out of her bra. Her panties followed. She wound her arms around him. Her fingers touched the hard muscle of his back. She had wanted this for so long. She caressed him, no longer caring about being ashamed. She slipped her hand lower, stroking the smooth skin of his shaft, squeezing, sliding, wanting.

He made a deep male noise and kissed her neck, turning her around. She put her hands against the wall.

He thrust into her, straight into the center of the aching pressure. She gasped, and he kept thrusting, each stroke sending quakes of pleasure through their bodies and their minds. He kept pumping, moving in a steady powerful rhythm. The happy quakes collided inside her, building stronger and stronger, until her muscles contracted and the ache inside her broke into intense shudders of pure bliss. She cried out and sagged against him, supported by his arm around her waist.

"Did you like that?" He grinned, masculine and possessive, and very happy with himself.

"Yes," she told him.

"Good. Now we reenact mine." He picked her up and carried her to the bed.

*** *** ***

"That was a very elaborate dream you had," Claire murmured. She lay with her head on Ven's biceps, exhausted, spent, and euphoric.

"I have a creative subconscious."

She smiled.

"What was the deal with visit to the Carvannas?"

She sighed.

"Out with it," he said.

"Ven, you took me to the this garden paradise, which I could never have, and introduced me to a woman who was more than me in every way. She is beautiful, warm, she can cook like a chef, and then the lot of you sat around and discussed people you've known since childhood."

"I wanted you to like each other," he said.

"I like them. It just... I can't even cook. I mean, I try, but it tastes odd."

He laughed at her.

"I will never be Imelda Carvanna," she said.

"If I wanted someone like Meli, I would have married a long time ago. I want you. My beautiful, lethal, precise ice dragon. One of a kind."

"That's a terrible pet name," she said. "Ice dragon?"

"Silver Shark? Captain Lethal? Slaughter Maiden?"

"Venturo!"

"Seriously, how many hours have you logged in?"

She shrugged. "Eight hundred and forty two combat missions; with training, a little over forty thousand hours."

"I have fifty thousand hours and I've been logging in since I was six. This is kind of embarrassing."

"You logged in because it was fun and you loved it. I logged in because it was my duty to contribute to the war effort. Eight hours, almost every day. There were times when we'd get stuck, and I'd be in for forty hours at a time. I'd wake up with an IV in my arm and have to relearn how to walk." She shivered.