What To Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection Part Two (66 page)

Tabitha blushed and turned around as she unfastened her bra. He was right about the shoes. The black patent leather gleamed even under the fluorescent lights of the conference room. The heels, high and spiky, were just barely office appropriate. She dropped her bra on the carpet and raised her eyes to his, trapped by the compelling intensity of his stare.

“Undress me.” His gaze invited her touch.

Tabitha smiled. “It would be my pleasure.” All thoughts of self-preservation fled her mind. This was Marcus. He was here, right now. And she needed him.

Marcus raised an eyebrow.

Tabitha rephrased her response. “It would be my pleasure, Sir.”

He gave an almost imperceptible signal of approval.

Tabitha advanced toward Marcus, clad only in her shoes, stockings and garters. She shivered, goosebumps rising on her skin. She softened inside as she reached for him. Her fingers grasped the top button on his dress shirt and, one by one, she slowly unfastened them. She moved close, close enough to feel his radiating heat. Her fingertips trailed down one arm and undid his cufflink and then turned to the other, repeating her actions. With her fingertips, she brushed the fabric off his shoulders until the shirt drifted free of his body. She caught it, folded it neatly, and placed it on a chair.

Tabitha ached to wrap herself around him, but resisted. She reached for his belt. Her fingers shook as she unfastened the buckle, followed by the waistband of his pants. She lowered the zipper, brushing against his growing erection. She pushed his pants and underwear down only to realize his shoes were still on. Embarrassed, she met his eyes.

“Don’t worry, we’ll practice.” He slid off his shoes and stepped out of his pants and briefs.

Tabitha picked up his slacks and folded them along the creases, smoothing the fabric with her hands. She tucked his briefs inside the pants and placed them by his shirt.

Marcus was naked. Gloriously naked. Tabitha swayed as the memory of their powerful encounters in Hawaii swept through her. She quivered and her nipples puckered. Her hand reached out toward him.

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Malia Mallory lives in Hawaii with her husband and daughter. She’s been working with words since alphabet blocks rolled into her crib, not only writing her own work but copy editing and proofreading the work of others. She has loved to read about relationships since she first sneaked off with her mother’s Harlequin.

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Nina Pierce

Published by Nina Pierce of New Hampshire. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. (
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This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

L
illy D’Angelo wasn’t expecting a trip down memory lane when she sauntered into the dingy tavern, but the acrid stench and gruff hum of the Friday night crowd carried her back to one of the seedier establishments on Chicago’s south side nonetheless. Except for the clientele, the owner had managed to replicate nearly every detail right down to the blue haze of cigarette smoke and the soft crooning of a jazz band on the corner stage.

Pushing the sour thoughts of home from her mind and focusing on the job at hand, Lilly morphed her features into her sexiest vixen pout and moved gracefully toward the long bar on the other side of the room. Her voluptuous breasts, spilling temptingly from her silk blouse, led the way. The eyes watching her leather-clad ass sashay around the battered tables were clustered on various life forms—none of them human.

Yeah, definitely
not
Chicago. Hell, this wasn’t even Earth for goodness’ sake.

“Regent’s ale, straight up, hold the brenic.” Lilly ordered the local brew in English, hoping the two-headed alien behind the bar had a cochlear translator in one of those eight holes that passed for ears. Satisfied when one head nodded, she settled on a stool, making sure her fur jacket and blouse parted just enough to offer a seductive view of her cleavage. She shifted, allowing the black leather skirt to ride up her thigh and expose a little more silky real estate. The reflection she saw in the mirror behind the liquor bottles was every inch a working woman on the prowl. She wasn’t trying to attract anyone in particular, just hoping to mislead the locals into thinking she was some female making a living with her body—which was true—just not as the human streetwalker she impersonated.

Undercover work was what kept food in her belly and a roof over her head. But it was the cold-hearted need for revenge that had driven her to flaunt her feminine wares on distant planets. Walking among low-life criminals—most of them of the non-human variety—was a small price to pay for the opportunity to avenge the calamity that had become her life.

Lilly wasn’t a xenophobic bigot by any stretch of the imagination. It’s just that six months in deep space, working as a bounty hunter in these kinds of joints, wasn’t really long enough to become accustomed to the scenery. The Nebulae Galaxy’s spaceports overflowed with aliens of all sizes and genders; from two-headed Xericks, like the bartender, to the gangly-limbed Znedus and oversized Ka’al with their mahogany skin and flat noses. The twelve planets of this galaxy had become a melting pot of sorts for all types of aliens.

Only that wasn’t really a fair term here in deep space.

Alien
inferred the life forms didn’t belong. On the contrary, it was humans who were invading
their
territory. The treaties of 2253, signed well over forty years ago, had guaranteed the safe travel of humans in deep space. After the snafu of ’34, which saw the first major battle over territories since light travel had been achieved, humans had insisted on protection for their species. They’d formed some bullshit board of security, guaranteeing humans could run roughshod over the universe like everywhere else. Though they were technically called
Q’orstan Aerlheit Lunivarsium
, most people referred to them as QAL. Lilly nicknamed them the alphabet mafia. At one point in time, she’d actually considered working for them. Then they’d discovered who she was—or more specifically
what
she was—and she’d had to detour from that career path. It didn’t matter. They could all go take a flying leap into the lava pits of Beta Mrenn for all she cared. Just because they didn’t appreciate her
gift
, didn’t mean Lilly couldn’t use her talents to bring down the bad guys.

Of course in deep space,
bad
was a relative term.

There was the kind of bad that got a person lost on the polar ice caps of Dallas Eight without a backup plan. Or the bad that forced someone to stow away in the engine room of a Drikspa alien tanker bound for unknown destinations, praying not to get caught. Or the bad that got a human female imprisoned as a sex slave on the mining colonies of Krystallos Three, hidden from even the long arm of the QAL. Lilly shivered at that one. Even
her
talents wouldn’t free her from that kind of torture.

She was just happy to be here on Garalon Five where bad meant nothing more than crossing paths with every brand of space pirate, ex-con or fugitive looking for a new start. As one of the more recent colonies in the Nebulae Galaxy, the G-5 government turned their collective back on past offenses on other planets and allowed anyone to start a legitimate business. It’s what had actually brought her here to the dark planet.

Well, that and the incident on Reigis Alpha. That spaceport had netted her a broken arm, three bruised ribs, a close encounter with a Treljon laser, her first big payoff and one hell of a lesson. She flexed her fingers around the foaming stein the bartender dropped in front of her and sipped thoughtfully. Thank goodness for modern medicine. They’d fixed her up in less than two weeks and sent her on her way.

With a couple of hours to kill and nothing to do but wait, Lilly savored a long swallow of the cool brew and turned her attention to one of the televids on the wall. Nearly everyone in the tavern ignored the news feed of the new Commander-elect, Ambassador Antonio Tervoss. Few species believed the human’s campaign promises for a safer galaxy would change anything in deep space.

Besides, it seemed aliens preferred making their deals on the shady underbelly of corruption. They’d been living that way for too many centuries to see regulation of trade as being advantageous. But it had been Tervoss’ strong commitment to race equality that had finally tipped the scales for enough voters, alien and human alike, including Lilly, to get the man where he was today.

In a little over a week, Antonio Tervoss would be inaugurated as the first human to become Premier Commander of the Nebulae Galaxy. Overseeing twelve planets, nine presidents and countless government officials was nothing compared to regulating the forty-seven luna crystal mines on Krystallos Three. The mines not only supplied both energy and clean water to all ninety-eight trillion life forms scattered throughout the galaxy, they also supported the largest underground sex slave trade in the known universe.

No ambassador had attempted to clean up that caustic nightmare.

“Yeah, good luck with that task, buddy!” Lilly lifted her stein in mock salute to the man.

“Happy you make with human leader?”

Lilly wanted to laugh at the ridiculous interpretation the translator had made of the alien’s come-on line clicking and popping in her ear. She smiled over at the Ickbata’s hopeful expression as he slid onto the stool beside her. They weren’t bad little aliens if one didn’t mind the smell of leather.

In her relaxed state, her energy had filled the air. And though she wasn’t looking to hook up, especially with an Ickbata, she could use a little distraction and the televid certainly wasn’t providing it. “
Kal auct ral tsk, pa?
”
Buy me a drink, stranger?
It was a question she could ask in the sixteen most common languages of the Nebulae Galaxy.

“Several. If that’s your wish,” the Ickbata clicked, moving closer. One of his soft appendages snaked along her thigh-high boot. “If your body was sexy, press me against it?” It was the contact males craved when they were near her. She consciously dialed back her energy. Some innocent flirting and couple of drinks would solidify her image as a streetwalker in the eyes of the patrons, but there was no sense leading the alien some place she didn’t intend to take him.