Tempt Me Eternally (11 page)

Dinner, she thought, her stomach growling. The tastes she'd had earlier of Breean's sugar-laced blood had left her hungry, for each drop had been better than, like, anything she'd ever prepared.

She was a decent cook, but Macy had apparently been a genius in the kitchen. First night her “mom” and “stepdad” had come over, they'd expected four-star treatment. As rich as they were and as superior as their expectations had been, the mac-and-cheese she'd thrown together hadn't pleased them. They hadn't liked the changes in her personality, either. Where the old Macy had been a champagne kind of girl, the new Macy's beer-loving ways had not been acceptable.

They'd accused her of being on drugs again, then yelled at her for throwing away her life as a cop when she could have gone back to modeling. And Aleaha had had to listen, try to answer. But the truth was, she didn't know why Macy had chosen such a life for herself.

At least dealing with the parents had been easier than the boyfriend. He'd had a key to her apartment—she'd since changed the locks—and had let himself in one night. He'd been high on Onadyn, the drug of choice for the wealthy, and ready for a game of “ride the pony.”

On his way to the bedroom, he'd knocked down several of her—well, Macy's—things, breaking them. Thinking he was an intruder, she'd first tried to stun him, then, when that hadn't worked, to kill him. But
just before pulling the trigger, she'd seen his face. She'd already studied the pictures hanging on the walls and those in Macy's holobook, so she'd recognized him.

He hadn't been happy with her refusal to play. As with Breean, she'd had to introduce him to her knee. Funny that Breean, who was supposed to hate her, had treated her better afterward.

“You must change,” Breean said, drowning her musings of the past. Now his voice was husky with want.

“Uh, not just no, but hell, no.” She would not reveal her true self while being this close to the AIR agents. But what a sweet man, not uttering the words “your appearance” while agents could hear.

He gave her a pointed glance. Aw. He meant her clothing.

“Why?” she asked.

“There's blood on your shirt.”

Yeah, but it was his blood, from when she'd bitten him. “There's just a speck.” A golden speck, at that, tasty and soul-shattering and maybe she could lick it off . . .
Stop, you idiot
. She'd actually been reaching for the hem of her shirt to bring it to her mouth.

Okay, time to regroup. He wouldn't rest until she'd changed out of her dirty clothes. He'd made her change that first night, too, she recalled, after she'd bitten him. She'd been happy to do so—when he'd left her alone. But why the anal need for spotless garments? She almost snickered. Anal.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you going to be stubborn about this?”

“No. As before, I'll change when you leave.”

“I need to take your clothes with me, so that they can be burned. We walked through the city, and I'm unsure what we came into contact with. More than that, I believe I mentioned that the sight of the blood offends me.”

She'd been scanning for blood on
his
clothing; now her gaze snapped back up to him and she tried to read his expression. Surely he was joking. “You're a warrior.”

“Yes. You know that I am.”

“You
deal
in blood. How can the mere sight of it offend you?”

“Blood carries disease and death, diseases that are more painful than a knife through the gut. Now, I need the clothes you are wearing so that I may dispose of them.”

The Schön disease, she realized. He feared it, and that made sense. But strangely, she didn't like that so strong a man, even her enemy, had been brought to such a point. “Sure you don't just want to watch me strip?” She'd meant the words as a taunt, hoping to soften the tenseness of the situation; they emerged as an invitation.

He gulped, every muscle in his body hardening. “To protect your modesty, I will wait outside. Toss your old clothing through the bars when you are done.” He turned on his heel, his posture stiff.

She liked him better when he was trying to charm her.

And he wanted to charm her, right? To win
another kiss, right? So, why was he leaving her? Why wasn't he forcing her to do what he wished? Did he no longer desire her?

Unacceptable.
Make him want you again. He'll relax his guard. You can free the agents.
Yep, that's the only reason she was filled with such a need. “Wait,” she called just as he was opening the cell door. Oh, God. Was she really going to do this?

Slowly he faced her, the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen. A man who'd had plenty of opportunity, yet hadn't hurt her. A man who'd taken pretty good care of her, all things considered.

Yes, she was going to do this. “You can watch.”

“No,” he said, though the word was soft, as if he didn't actually want to say it.

“Don't you want me to be happy?”

His brow furrowed, but there was hope in his eyes. “Why would my presence make you happy?”

“Just because.”

“Then you know what you must first do,” Breean croaked out.

Show her true appearance. He'd demanded this time and time again, yet it still managed to shock her. How could he prefer the real her? In no way did she compare to Macy. She was flatter, leaner, with more patrician features. She was way less . . . stirring.

Still, she shifted back to her own image and nervously fidgeted with the ends of her hair.

“Better?”

“Much. Begin.”

That had sounded like a plea, and spurred her on.
Hands shaky, she bent and unhooked her scuffed boots. She kicked them off, launching them at Breean one at a time. A girl had to preserve hints of her this-isn't-what-I-
really
-want facade. To his credit, he didn't cringe or move out of the way. He let them slam into him without a word. Because he was entranced? She hoped so.

This is for his benefit, remember?

She reached behind her head and pulled her shirt up and off. The shirt, too, she tossed at him. The material swooshed into his chest and floated to the cold, hard ground. Her too-large bra was next—it had been made for Macy's ample chest and was one of two things she'd kept when she'd handed over her AIR bodysuit—which left her small breasts bared. Her nipples immediately puckered against the cold. Or maybe from the heat of his stare.

Breean sucked in a—reverent?—breath. He even reached out, then caught himself and dropped his arm to his side. All the while, his gaze bored into her, white lightning slamming against all of her pulse points.

Why had he stopped himself?

“The rest,” he said, his voice deep and husky with arousal.

Her trembling intensifying, she jerked her too-loose pants and underwear down her legs. Underwear—the second thing she'd kept. Her other prison had had an enzyme shower stall, so she and the garments had managed to remain clean.

When she stepped out of them, she stilled the urge to cover herself. She just stood there, daring
him to say something about her concave stomach or the thickly puckered scars on her inner thighs.

He tore his gaze from her breasts, from her quivering navel, lingering for a few seconds on the fine tuft of hair between her legs before staring at the scars. He frowned. “What type of injury rendered those?”

Silent, she raised her chin. That was information she'd
never
offer, not even under torture.

“Ale— Macy,” he said, catching himself. Thank God. There was a warning in his tone.

“I'm cold,” she said, chattering her teeth for effect. “I'm going to dress now?” A question when it should have been a statement. “And please don't ever . . . you know.”
Call me by that name in front of others
. “Okay?” It was a gamble, asking him such a thing. He could threaten to do so if she didn't obey him in all things. That would be fighting dirty, after all. But as hesitant as she'd been about revealing the truth, he had to know already that it was important to her.

For a long while, he didn't reply. Then he sighed and tossed the clothes at her. “You have my word. Now get dressed. Sleep. Eat. Tomorrow we will have a long talk.” He turned and exited the cell, locking her inside.

•   •   •

As he stood outside Aleaha's chamber, Breean's blood was on fire.

Before, he'd thought he wanted her. Now that he'd seen her naked, stubborn determination in her eyes, he knew better. He
needed
her. She was exquisite, breathtaking, a fighter to her core, and it had taken all of his self-control not to launch himself at
her, nipping and kissing all that white flesh. Sucking those ripe little nipples into his mouth and feasting for days. Fingering the moist heat between her legs, then licking away every drop.

He tried to calm the riotous beat of his heart and the raging inferno blooming with his every breath. No luck.
Push her from your mind. For now, at least. Until you are stronger than your desire for her, for a prisoner, an AIR agent, you can't have her
.

That's why he'd placed her in the cell, after all, when that had never been his intent. He'd meant to keep her in his room. Where she was concerned, however, he still didn't have any defenses. And he needed defenses or she would always have the upper hand.

“Breean,” Talon called.

His attention veered to the right. He found Talon standing beside Marleon at the far end of the tunnel. Fury flooded him, and he welcomed it. The warrior's actions had nearly ruined him in Aleaha's eyes.

“Marleon,” he snarled.

The soldier paled, the fine swell of veins under his golden skin visible. He was dirty from his time in the dungeon, and clearly worried. “My lord?” The words trembled.

He closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. “As you know, you are charged with causing bloodshed without permission.” He deliberately spoke in the Earth language, knowing Aleaha would be listening.

“Yes, but—”

“I have spent the last week pondering your case.”
Not a sound did any of the agents make. “There are not many of us left, and I did not wish to destroy another of us. But you know the punishment for your crime, do you not?”

Blanching, Marleon backed into the wall. “My lord, they ambushed us. They meant to torture us.”

Talon gripped his shoulder, keeping him from bolting.

“There is no excuse great enough for what you did, for you have endangered all of us. What if they had been disease carriers?”

“I . . . I . . . didn't think. I'm sorry. So sorry.”

“No. You will die. As is our law. I have waited long enough to render your sentence. Know that I hate to do this, but it is necessary. Were I to be lenient, others would think such actions acceptable.” Without another word, Breean walked straight into Marleon's body, melding them into one being. He could have eased into the man so there would be no pain, but didn't. He allowed his subject to feel every ounce of his possession.

Marleon screamed.

In control of the man's every movement, every breath, Breean forced his organs to shut down one by one. Marleon jerked and spasmed, still screaming, still begging, until finally growing quiet and collapsing to the ground.

Dead. Just like that. Quick, but not easy.

This would weigh Breean down for months to come.

He exited with only a thought, once more standing
in front of Talon, the body at his feet. “He knew better,” Breean said with disgust. Disgust for himself as much as for the dead soldier. But as leader, it was up to him to mete out justice. He had not lied; if he'd shown Marleon mercy, others would not have thought twice about spilling blood during the next battle.

“He knew,” Talon agreed. “You did what you had to do.”

Would Aleaha think so, or view this as more proof of his black nature? “Burn him.” As was their custom. They'd only buried the AIR agents because that's what they knew earthlings preferred. Handling the dead was abhorrent to them, but they'd done it to show their respect.

Talon nodded. “Everyone has disposed of their clothing and most are in the pools, even as we speak.”

“Good.” His gaze swung over his shoulder, zeroing in on Aleaha's door. Switching to Rakan, he said, “The two men she slapped in the forest, do you know which ones they are?” It was past time Breean spoke to them. Now that he was done readying this place, traveling back and forth between it and the other home, he had the time.

Again Talon nodded.

“Bring them to my office within the hour.”

After bathing and changing into clean clothes, his tainted ones burning with the others', Breean left his room and sat at the desk, outlining the best defense against the Schön. He'd only seen a handful of the vile race before they'd disappeared and all but the queen had been male.

She had been . . . strange. Dainty, deceptively innocent, with a lilting voice he and the others had found themselves obeying without question. Her followers had managed to capture him and the others, and they'd been forced to watch as she seduced one after another. But Breean and those with him now, she'd sent away with a disgusted snarl. He'd never understood why. He would have welcomed her into his bed—and not just because he'd been without sex for so long. Whatever she'd spoken, he had wanted to do.

He'd thought her powers over men similar to a Rakan male's power over a Rakan female, his lust-scent like a drug. Only, they used their power for pleasure. She used hers to hurt. And hurt they had. Almost immediately the disease struck them, ravaging their bodies.

Once she'd mated with the men, they had then been given prisoners of their own. And once they'd mated with someone previously uninfected, the grayish tint had left their skin. Their hollowed cheeks had rounded out.