Part 4 (1/2)
I laughed. I just couldn't help myself. ”You're kidding me, right?”
”There's no way you'll get answers out of her. You look about as scary as a bowl of warm honey.”
”Looks do not determine ability,” I ground out, losing all traces of humor. I'd heard similar words my entire life. As a teenager, my spoiled, pampered self had loved that kind of statement. As an adult, and in light of my recent failure, I hated-hated!-hearing such a thing.
”And don't even get me started on your mouth,” he continued.
”What about my mouth?” I asked slowly.
”It's a two-hundred-dollars-an-hour mouth, not a tell-me-all-your-secrets-or-I'll-kill-you mouth.”
”You know what?” I said. Oh, this was going to be fun. He obviously had no idea what he was about to encounter with his interrogation. ”I'm willing to make a bet with you. I'll give you ten minutes to get a single answer out of Sahara Rose. A single answer.” I'd followed the woman for days. I knew her. Lucius, with his towering build and hard-a.s.s I-don't-give-
a-s.h.i.+t edge, would intimidate her into absolute silence.
Wicked intent gleamed in his expression. ”And when Ido get an answer out of her?” he asked, both brows raised.
”I'll let you have my mouth for free.”
He didn't hesitate. ”Agreed.”
”Don't you want to know what I get if you fail?”
”I don't plan to fail.”
”You still have to offer me something I want.”
Now he hesitated. ”What?” he asked suspiciously.
”When your ten minutes are up, I want you to step aside and shut the h.e.l.l up. I'll get the information we need. Afterward, you're going to get on your knees and praise my ability.”
His lips stretched to a full, antic.i.p.atory grin. ”Agreed. But get ready, cookie.” He lifted up, getting so close I felt the warmth of his breath on my face. ”I want your mouth all over me.”
Chapter.
4.
Iwant your mouth all over me.
I tried not to think about Lucius's parting words as I luxuriated in the softness and decadence of Michael's private ITS-Ionic Transport System-a jet that ran on vibrations of subparticle strings of energy rather than gasoline. Complete with four laser cannons and retractable wings. I tried not to imagine my mouth devouring Lucius's hard, muscled body, his moans of pleasure in my ears, his hands gripping my hair, the taste of him teasing my tongue.
Unfortunately, I thought of little else and spent nearly every moment of the flight to New Dallas lost in a sensual haze. The cloying scent of honey still wafted from me-and there wasn't a d.a.m.n thing I could do about it. At least Lucius hadn't mentioned my 'perfume' again. I might die of acute mortification if he did-I could even picture the headline of my obituary: ”Alien a.s.sa.s.sin Survives Antique Gunshot, Laser, Knife Wounds, Poison, and Explosion, Only to Succ.u.mb to the Stupid-a.s.s Comment of a Human Male.”
I pushed out a breath and settled deeper into the plush leather seat. The private, luxury ITS offered a smooth ride, a lavish sapphire couch and a gilded table. If it weren't for the panoramic view of white clouds and blue sky, I might have convinced myself I lounged at home, reflecting on the success of my last mission.
Instead, here I was. A failure. Partnered. l.u.s.ting after a human.
Rakas were sensual by nature. Creatures of peace, pleasure, and decadence-qualities I'd battled for many years, and thought I had conquered. Or rather, killed, along with all of my victims.
I sighed. I hadn't set out to become an a.s.sa.s.sin. I asked to train with Michael and his agents simply to spend more time with my father. To impress him. He respected his men, and I'd wanted that respect for myself. Wanted to be more than his spoiled, pampered,lazy daughter-something he'd been teased about often. He'd never complained, had actually taken pleasure in indulging me, but I had begun to notice the difference between his men and me.
Reluctantly Michael agreed to let me partic.i.p.ate. Throughout training, I was pushed as hard as the men. I fought, I hunted, I learned the intricacies of weapons. Afterward, I watched my male counterparts leave and return from a.s.signments while I remained behind. I heard them discuss the atrocities being committed by their targets, and I felt their pride at protecting those weaker than themselves.
Becoming an agent soon became my real goal. As the days pa.s.sed, it was less about Michael and more aboutme. What I could do to help.
Finally Michael allowed me a chance to prove myself. That first kill had been less difficult than I'd expected. Less difficult than everyone expected. I was a Raka, sensual, a peace lover, true, but I had easily taken life. That's when I realized the destruction of evil was a sensual dance and my means of keeping the peace. Killingwas my nature.
Lucius stretched out his long, thick legs, eating my personal s.p.a.ce. He sat across from me, no part of our bodies touching. Still, I felt the heat of him, and I didn't like it. I didn't like him, period. He upset my inner balance. An inner balance I desperately needed. After all, I destroyed aliens and humans for a living, violently, without thought or regret. One single distraction could getme killed.
Iknew that. I did. Yet here I was, consumed by a man who made me ache in ways that had nothing to do with physical injuries.
I stole a quick glance at him, my gaze locking on his lips. Though pink and lush, they somehow appeared hard just then. Abrasive. Just like the rest of him. But I didn't think they'd be hard when kissing a woman. No, they'd be tender and silky. Hot. Perfect. Utterly perfect.
A man who looked like he did, comprised of razors and nails, muscle and sinew, belonged in wars. Not on top of a woman, giving untold pleasure. And yet I'd be willing to bet he excelled at both. Not that I would ever find out first hand.
s.h.i.+fting to the side, I allowed myself to take in the rest of him. The change in his appearance still surprised me. The man had somehow transformed himself before leaving New Mexico. After ourinnocent tussle in Michael's bas.e.m.e.nt gym, we'd gone our separate ways to shower and change clothes. Lucius had emerged with his dark hair bleached completely white, his left eyebrow pierced, and the base of his throat sporting a skull tattoo. He looked s.e.xy as h.e.l.l.
”Want to tell me what you're thinking about?” he asked casually.
My heart hammered at the sound of his voice. Like I was going to admit that little gem.
He hadn't said a word about the change, and neither had I. I could guess why he'd done it. Obviously he'd been to New Dallas before-under a different ident.i.ty.This ident.i.ty. He'd probably worked with the men we were meeting, and they knew him as this man.
Lucius continued to watch me, I noticed, his ice-blue gaze intent. At least his eye color hadn't changed. That s.e.xy, electric blue should never be concealed.
”You might as well tell me,” he said. ”I'll get it out of you sooner and later, and you'll be doing yourself a favor if it's sooner.”
”I'm just imagining your failure with Sahara Rose,” I lied.
His pierced black brow arched, raising the silver stud. ”If the thought of my failure is what put that 'f.u.c.k-me-now' expression on your face, keep thinking about it. Please.” The last word sounded foreign on his tongue, as if he'd never spoken it before.
I fought to keep my expression neutral, to keep from scowling. With his words, he placed his pleasure-giving image right back in the gutter of my fantasies.
”Must you be so crude?” I ground out.
”We kill people for a living, cookie, and you're balking at my language?”
We might both be killers, but we were different on so many levels. I worked for peace, for the good of the people. He worked for money. My allegiance would never waver. His probably s.h.i.+fted with the wind.
”Oh, wait,” he added. ”You're a princess, a spoiled little rich girl. And don't try to deny it. I've heard stories about your teenage years. Crying and pouting when you didn't get what you wanted. 'I asked for a blue dress, Daddy, not green,'” he mimicked in a high voice. ”Boohoo.” He rolled his eyes. ”Of course you're balking at my language. Girls like you can't be happy, no matter their circ.u.mstances.”
My eyes narrowed. I wasnot that girl anymore. I hadn't been for a long, long time. When I began my agent training, I'd even stopped calling Michael ”Daddy.” I'd called him what every other agent called him. ”Too bad there isn't a price on your head,” I muttered. ”You're one target I'd take great joy in destroying.”