Across the Universe

The city of Palos, on the rim planet of Beldra Mariel was not going to be happy. There was still blood under her fingernails, but Anicka Dekker had lost her knife in the fight and didn’t have anything sharp enough left in her pack to dig it out. She didn’t have much left in her pack, period, except a dry pair of pants, some credits, and her journal. The son of a b***h had made sure she was as crippled as possible. Anicka had had no choice but to kill him ahead of schedule. She only wished she could kill him again. Just out of spite. She rarely developed feelings regarding her assignments—good or bad—but Omer Mahle had rubbed her the wrong way ever since she’d witnessed him selling off the pair of young girls to the meanest space trawler in this sector. She’d almost stepped in at that point. Only the facts that he was surrounded by his entire coterie and she still had to get a local crew had stopped her. That local crew had proven absolutely useless in the long run. As always, she’d been on her own. But the job was done; Omer was floating up the Cully River on his way to the planet’s biggest ocean, and Mariel would just have to be happy the assignment got finished at all. STRIKE hadn’t been implicated in any way. All Anicka had to do was stay underground until the rendezvous in three days. Which was why she was marching through Palos in the dead of night, heading straight for a bar she’d found right after landing planetside. It was in the same neighborhood she’d witnessed Omer’s human trafficking, but his coterie was on the other side of town tonight. She would be able to get a well-deserved drink, then find a place to bunker down anonymously until Mariel arrived. And if she got lucky, she wouldn’t have to spend it alone. These particular patrons didn’t care about blood under the fingernails. Most of them would probably consider it a bonus. The bar was simply known as the Hole. The door was different than it had been the first time Anicka had seen the building—this one painted a dull green—and one of the front windows was boarded over. She ignored both and dug her credits out of her pack. She wanted them on her body in case somebody decided to relieve her of the last of her belongings, though anybody who tried was likely to lose at least one internal organ. There were other women inside, but they were bargirls and whores. The meanest-looking bargirls Anicka had ever seen. They wound around the men, expertly avoiding the leering smiles, the wolf whistles, and the groping fingers. Even when a massive hand closed around a breast or pushed under a blouse, they didn’t blink or spill a drop of the ale and wood alcohol they served to the howling patrons. The distinction between the bargirls and whores was easy. The latter didn’t avoid the disgusting pigs pawing at them. Only one man ignored the fray. He sat at the far corner of the bar, hunched over a huge mug of ale, his eyes on the door. He noticed her at the same moment she saw him, and their eyes locked. His were a steel gray. They reminded her of twin moons. His face was impassive, a small webbing of scars spread over his cheeks and brow. Despite that, Anicka found she couldn’t look away from him. He boldly held her gaze for several beats before quirking his eyebrow. She bit back her smile. She liked this one’s style. Unafraid, unbending. He wasn’t part of Omer’s coterie either. That was a face she’d remember. With her head held high, she zigzagged through the patrons for an empty place at the bar, two-thirds down. More than one head turned to follow her, but nobody made an overture. She reached the counter and leaned against its edge, waiting for the bartender to come to her. “Give me what he’s drinking,” she said, jerking her chin toward the scarred stranger. The bartender’s brows shot up, clearly surprised. He didn’t question her though. In a place like this, he’d obviously learned not to. As he set the ale in front of her, the unmistakable clink of silver against wood caught her attention. “I’ll cover that,” the man said, though he clearly wasn’t addressing her. Anicka pulled out an equal credit and tossed it in front of the bartender. “Nobody pays for my drinks but me.” She turned an amused eye to her would-be benefactor. “You just bought yourself the drink you’re keeping me company with.” “Who says I want to keep you company? I like to do my drinking alone.” “And you wanted to buy my drink because…?” “Seemed like the polite thing to do since you’re the only lady in here.” She glanced around at the other women. “That’s not a real stretch. But the sad thing is, that’s the nicest thing anybody’s said to me all day.” “Really? Sounds like you’re spending time with the wrong sort of people.” An image of Omer’s mangled face filled her head. With a grimace, she muttered, “Tell me about it.” She downed half the ale in a long swallow, bracing against the bitter sting of the alcohol at the back of her throat. The fire burned a path down her gullet, bypassing her stomach to go straight through her veins. The best part was the way it erased the picture from her brain, leaving her satisfyingly empty of it once again. “Well, if you don’t want to be one of the right sort of people, that’s your choice. But thanks for the smile anyway.” “You’re probably not going to find the right sort of people in here, you know. This isn’t even the best place to get a drink.” “It was good enough for you.” He laughed softly and raised his glass her direction. “Fair enough. I like to come here to let off a bit of steam. There’s always a few good fights to be found around here.” “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” She carried her mug down to the end of the bar, nudging the little guy who occupied the nearest stool to the stranger. He took one look at her and slid off so fast, she would’ve sworn he left skid marks on his ass. She took his place and turned her back to the rest of the bar. “So did you already have your fight, or are you still spoiling for one?” “No, no fights.” He took a deep swallow from his mug. “So I’m still spoiling for something. What about you?” Her gaze strayed to the broad chest she hadn’t been able to fully appreciate from across the room. He was powerfully built, and the worn jacket he wore did nothing to hide it. The threadbare shirt he had on underneath was stretched tight, but his stomach was flat. Even his hands were big, calloused and strong. Fighting hands. He hadn’t been kidding about that. “I’m always up for a fight,” she said, keeping her tone light. “But I think right now I’m more interested in that something you say you’re spoiling for. Shame you don’t know what it is, though.” He looked her over from top to bottom, his eyes lingering on her breasts before moving lower. She had tried to be subtle about her investigation, but he did nothing to hide the fact that he was studying every inch of her. “I know what I’m looking for. I’m just not sure if you’re up to it.” The more he challenged her, the more she liked this man. Something about the timbre of his voice sank through her skin and melted parts of her she thought dead half the time. Then there were those eyes that looked at her and dared her to try even harder. Nobody else in the bar seemed to even notice him, which she just didn’t understand. He was the only interesting thing in the entire place. “You might be the first person to ever tell me that.” She tilted her head closer. “But I don’t mind proving myself. In fact, sometimes that’s my favorite part.” “What’s your name, sweetheart?” “For you? Nicki.” She didn’t want to give him the alias she’d had during this assignment, and Mariel would kill her if she gave her real one. This was a good enough compromise. “And what do I get to call you?” “You want to get out of here with me? You can call me Sir.” She wanted to laugh. He had balls. But he hadn’t even blinked with his request, and all it took was a single glance downward at the promise of that amazing body for her to make up her mind. “Works for me.” She smiled. “Sir.” He returned her smile. At least he seemed to return her smile. The very corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes lightened. “I’ve got a room a block away. We can get out of here.” “Now, that”—closing the distance, Anicka skimmed her mouth just over his jaw until she reached his ear—”is the nicest thing anyone’s said to me today, Sir.” His arm went around her waist, and he pulled her closer in a solid embrace. She imagined it didn’t feel unlike being held by a tree. He turned his head and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. It almost felt like an attack. When he lifted his head again, her ears were ringing. “Let’s go, before I’m tempted to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out.” “Yeah.” She was breathless. She couldn’t remember the last time anybody had kissed her like that. “We should probably go before I let you.” He didn’t quite carry her out of the bar, but it was close. He wrapped one huge hand around hers, imprisoning her as sure as if he had closed a cuff around her wrist. He pulled her to her feet and dragged her through the throng. They fell away from him as if they didn’t dare make physical contact. She nearly had to jog just to keep up with his long strides, and if he noticed that fact, he didn’t care. He slammed the door open and allowed cold night air to rush over her. She gasped for breath, surprised by the relief she felt. Surprised even more by the fact that her face still felt hot and flushed. Not a word was spoken as he tugged her around the corner. The temptation to pull him into one of the alleys and get a taste of what was to come nearly choked her. Just the curl of his fingers doubled her heart rate, and already a trickle of sweat dripped between her breasts. This man would take no prisoners. But it was exactly that reason why she followed him without hesitation. She had three days to forget about STRIKE, about what she’d seen Omer do, about who she was. She had never met a man who made her want that more. She would do whatever he said as long as it got both of them off. His room was in a low, square building with the sounds of animals scurrying in the walls. They walked down a narrow hall that led to the rear, and when they stopped before a stained door, she molded her lithe, long body to his back. “You were wrong about the Hole,” she murmured. “I think I found exactly what I was looking for.” He opened the door with a small, rusty key, his fingers surprisingly nimble for handling such a delicate object. The room he revealed wasn’t much of an improvement over the corridor. A bare, flickering bulb illuminated a narrow bed and a single chair. He turned and caught her chin. She expected another hard kiss, but his mouth stopped an inch from hers. Hot, ale-sweet breath washed over her lips. “I hope you’re right about that.” Her heart thundered. “You going to invite me in or kiss me? Because those are the only two options I’m willing to let you entertain about now.” “Let me? You’re accustomed to making demands, I see.” He yanked her into the room and slammed the door shut hard enough to make the floor vibrate. “We’ll have to do something about that.” She covered her secret thrill at his intention with a jaunty grin. After all, goading him had done exactly as she’d wanted. She was now inside his room, with every means at her personal disposal to make sure he wouldn’t want her to leave again until her rendezvous with Mariel. “What happened to treating me like a lady?” He smiled. “You don’t want me to treat you like a lady, remember? You insisted on paying for your own drink.” “Because I don’t like being indebted to people.” He released her and sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t even let ladies make demands of me. Undress.” Anybody else and she would’ve pulled his tongue out and wrapped it around his neck for being so bold. But this one…he was already exceeding any expectation she might have had. Tossing her pack to the side of the door—just in case she needed to make a quick getaway for who knew what kind of reason—she stepped back, giving him a better view of her lithe body. She went to her waist first, watching every flicker of his eyes. Slowly, carefully, she undid her belt and let the ends dangle, weighing down the sides of her jacket to pull it apart. The shirt she wore underneath it was sheer and formfitting. The special fabric kept her warm and dry but revealed everything. Like the full swell of her breasts and the pink tips of her n*****s. His nostrils flared when she slipped the coat off. The shirt came next. He never moved, even when goose bumps perked her n*****s up more. “So is this what you like?” She toyed with her breasts, stroking the valley between them before letting her hand drift lower to her bare stomach. “You like to watch?” “No. Don’t get me wrong.” His gaze lingered on her breasts, the weight of his stare almost enough to make her fidget. “I enjoy the show. But I’m a hands-on sort of guy.” “Then why are your hands all the way over there? And mine are…” She pushed them beneath the band of her pants, making sure one went into her panties and between her lips. Brushing over her c**t, she ended with a breathless, “Here.” “Because I told you to undress, and as I said, I enjoy a show. Take off your pants.” The hair stood up on the back of her neck. He might not have visibly reacted, but the husky tone of his deep voice conveyed his response well enough. Her only thought was to prolong that want. Stoke it higher. Drive him completely insane with desire and then get lost when he took it out on her flesh. She dragged the chair forward and sat down. She had to get her boots off before she could do anything about the pants, but she deliberately took her time undoing the fastenings. It gave her time to look at Sir even closer, study the fine scars that gave him such character. What had he survived to gain such markings? He carried himself like a fighter. A mercenary, maybe. With a deal gone wrong. When the boots were gone, she stayed seated. It wasn’t easy, but she rolled her pants down over her hips, only having to lift her ass a fraction to clear the chair. She pulled one leg free, then angled it sideways, exposing her glistening p***y as she rid herself of the rest of the garment. She was left bare, with her thighs open and her back straight. “Is that enough of a show for you, Sir?” He stood, approaching like a wild beast on the hunt for its prey. Though she wasn’t a short woman by any means, her seated position and his commanding height forced Anicka to tilt her head back so she could meet his inscrutable eyes. Even here, in a situation like this, she held to her personal credo. Never look down. Never show weakness. Neither did he. He swerved just before reaching her, prowling behind the chair. She tried to mark his progress, but when she turned, he grabbed her shoulder and forced her to stare straight ahead again. He circled her once, then once more. He looked at her like she was nothing more than a piece of meat at the market—but at the same time, he never looked away from her. Not once. Just as her patience threatened to snap, he stopped behind her, planting his hands firmly on the back of the chair. She tensed when he bent and settled his mouth at her ear. “It looks like you’re ready for me to touch you.” In spite of how his hot breath melted her spine, Anicka held completely still. “I’ve been ready ever since I sat down next to you.” “Get on the bed.” His lips brushed across the curve of her ear, and then he disappeared. “Facedown.” A frisson of desire shot straight to her p***y. His command broke the rules that had kept her alive for so many years, and yet the urge to yield practically choked her. She desperately wanted to turn around and see the look on his face, to try to read what might be going on in those hypnotic gray eyes. But she’d agreed to call him Sir. She’d acquiesced to the orders he’d already uttered. Whether they followed her rules or not, everything she’d done so far was an unspoken promise to obey him. To trust him, no matter what. It made little sense to ignore directives that had saved her skin countless times, but Anicka believed in one thing more than her so-called rules. Her instincts. And they were telling her to get her ass out of the chair and do exactly what Sir wanted. With her chin held high, she stood and crossed the few feet to the bed, stretching out on its scratchy blanket as he’d instructed. On a whim, she reached and grabbed the headboard, turning her head to face him only when she was in position. “Is this what you want?” “It’s a start.” He took the back of her head and gently urged her to face downward again. She could have resisted him, but she didn’t. Closing her eyes, she rested her brow against the thin pillow, letting the thick waves of her hair fall around her shoulders to shield her. He dragged his hand down her back, and despite the edge in his voice, his touch was soft. Gentle, even. His rough fingers almost tickled as he traced the length of her spine. She felt herself relaxing under his touch even though she couldn’t read his face. “What’s somebody like you doing on this shithole planet?” Her muscles mellowed with each stroke of his hands. He touched her like a lover of years, not minutes. With care. With desire. He obviously needed this as much as she did. “I’m not on it for much longer. So I guess it doesn’t really matter.” “Don’t move.” The words were soft but still heavy with warning. His hand disappeared—much to her disappointment—and she listened to his solid tread as he walked away from the bed. She counted to sixty before he returned. He ran something rough down her back. Something that could only be a rope. “Are you going to try to fight me if I tie your hands?” She should. The last thing a STRIKE member should ever do is put him or herself in a position of vulnerability. Control at all times. At this exact moment in time, though, she was off-duty. The job was done. She was as good as on vacation. She was Nicki. He was Sir. There was only one way to answer. “No. I trust you.” “Good.” The rope was rough, the sort found in a toolbox or stashed under a shuttle’s seat in case of an emergency. It was thick enough she had no hopes of breaking through it, and long enough to circle each wrist twice before he knotted her hands together above her head. The bed dipped as he settled his weight on the edge, and his hand returned to her back with the same slow, sweeping caresses. Until he reached her ass. Then he brought his palm down with the hard crack of skin meeting skin. Anicka cried out in surprise, lifting her shoulders away from the mattress as her head whipped around. “What…” She swallowed against the sudden dryness of her throat. “What are you doing?” He slapped her again, letting the fleshy part of her ass absorb most of the shock. “Address me properly.” For a moment, her mind blanked. Fire bloomed through her midsection, heat more intense than bearing the weight of his attention while she stripped. It burned away rational thought, leaving behind only desire. And the answer he sought. “What are you doing, Sir?” “Giving you what you want.” A third slap, this one a little harder than the first two. She had the feeling he wouldn’t soften his blows. “What you’ve wanted from the moment I caught your eye.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how he could possibly know what she wanted when the fourth blow came, followed immediately by a fifth. Speech wasn’t possible. Neither was argument. She’d told him she trusted him, and she did. She just hadn’t expected him to be quite as knowing as he was. Biting her lip, she grasped the headboard more tightly. The rope chafed at her wrists when she jerked with each slap, but the burn was nothing compared to the rest of her flesh. She had been wet already when they’d arrived. Now her c**t throbbed in time with his repeated blows, grinding against the coarse covers until she parted her legs to ease the pressure. He took that as an invitation to switch his focus from her buttocks to her inner thighs. He alternated swift slaps on each one, sending a series of shocks up her spine. She lifted her hips from the bed, moving into his blows, exposing her swollen, glistening lips. Anicka jumped with surprise as he slapped the throbbing flesh, her c**t jerking from the pressure. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody so wet.” Her hair swept over her shoulder as she looked back at him with a half smile. “You’ve been picking the wrong women then.” “When was the last time you let anybody do this to you?” The question surprised her, but as she tried to think back on how long it had been, a stab of pain over her left eye obliterated the first image to spring to mind. She pressed her brow to the pillow, squeezing her eyes shut. “Too long.” Her skin tingled, the blood rushing close to the surface. She was flushed and wet, her body slick with sweat, which only added an extra sting every time his palm connected with her flesh. Her thighs were damp with her arousal, and she felt a little heady from the scent of s*x in the hot room. His hands were everywhere, working over her body, making her shake and tremble from the force of their combined desire. Anicka couldn’t hear anything except her harsh breathing and the steady slap of his hand. It didn’t take long before the two sounds merged together, becoming one loud, echoing hum, rising above her head. She wriggled against her bindings, pushing back to meet his touch, her palms getting raw from how hard she gripped the bars. “Please,” she heard, only to be shocked when it was her own hoarse voice. She wasn’t even sure what she was asking for—begging for, actually. His fingers slipped on the next blow, slick with her juices, and for the first time, a different sound joined the heavy air. The proof that he was as aroused as she was infused her reactions. Anicka lifted her head and propped herself on her hands and knees, opening even more to him. Where her breasts now swung freely, her n*****s grazed across the blanket, rough but not quite rough enough. What she wanted was his calloused fingers to pull and pluck at them with the same sort of force he used everywhere else. By the time the rain of blows stopped, her heart was galloping and her breath was caught in her chest. Sweat rolled down her cheeks and neck, sticking loose tendrils of hair to her jaw and temples, and she twisted against the ropes, straining for more of the exquisite contact. He held her ass with one hand, using his fingers to pull her cheeks apart and expose her hole. With the other, he stroked her heated skin, soothing it into submission before two long fingers slipped inside her p***y. She cried out at the intrusion, tensing, immediately aching for more. “Tell me what you want,” he rasped. “You,” she blurted. “f*****g me. Please, Sir. I don’t care how, as long as it’s hard and it’s you.” “I don’t believe you. Convince me.” She blinked. Convince him? While she was tied up? All she had were her words and her legs, and he stood too far up the side of the bed for her to use the latter effectively. That left begging, which she’d thought she’d already done, but apparently not enough. It shouldn’t have surprised her. He’d been hard with her from the very beginning, pushing her beyond her normal limits, making her wish he would drive her even further. He was just satisfying her desires. As he’d instinctively done from the moment they laid eyes on each other. Anicka took a deep breath, steadying her rattled nerves. Turning her head, she met his blazing eyes. “I can’t remember the last time I wanted anyone as much as I want you. I knew the second I saw you, you’d be worth whatever it took.” She licked her dry lips. “You saw how wet I am. I don’t get like this. Ever. That’s all you, Sir. All you. So please, please, don’t make me wait any longer. You want my p***y? You can have it. My ass? My mouth? Whatever you want, Sir, it’s yours. As long as you’re in me.” He smiled, looking pleased at her response. His hands disappeared from her body, and she moaned at the loss, her p***y clenching. He yanked his fly open, exposing his thick erection. Her eyes widened. The shirt needed to come off next. She desperately wanted to see the map of scars on his chest. She wanted to see his story. A part of her wanted him to be as vulnerable as she felt. But he ignored his garments, in favor of kneeling behind her. She tried to twist to keep her gaze on his face, but he curled his hand in her hair and forced her to look straight ahead again. “Oh, Nicki…” He dragged the head of his c**k between her swollen lips, moving it up and down, teasing her opening. “You look so delicious, I might not be able to let you go.” She might not be able to look at him, but she could feel him. More importantly, he could feel her. Anicka shifted her weight backward, ignoring the pull at her scalp when he didn’t ease his grip on her hair, and hooked her feet around the back of his thighs. “If you f**k me half as good as you look, Sir, I won’t want to go.” “I won’t forget you said that,” he said, his tone one of genuine warning. He positioned his c**k at her opening and slid into her channel. Slowly. Making her feel every inch. Making her body adjust to his width. She shuddered, her head falling forward, her abdomen and thighs tightening. He paused once he was fully sheathed, his free hand gripping her hip, while his other hand still held her hair. Anicka twitched, desperate for friction, trying to make him move. He responded with a sharp slap to her ass. The sting forced her to be still again. She held her breath as he slowly withdrew. He wasn’t going to make this easy on her. Then again, she never would’ve picked him up in the first place if he’d been the type to coddle her. A whimper escaped when he stopped again with only the tip of his c**k inside her channel, and she squeezed her inner muscles in reflex. He slapped her ass again. Harder. More determined. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she panted. “Just please, I need more.” “More?” He pulled out from her completely, and the slick head slid up to her ass. He pressed against her pucker with his throbbing crown. She tried to remember the last time anybody had f****d her like this, but the effort brought the earlier headache back. Anicka caught her breath, willing the pain away so she could focus on Sir’s hard c**k, poised at her entrance. With a grunt, he forced the tip past the tight muscle. Her nails dug into her palms as she braced against the initial burst of pain. Without being stretched first, his entry was more something to bear than something to enjoy. It wouldn’t take long for the burning sensation to give way to something deeper, but these first few seconds were always the hardest. She knew it as truth, even if she couldn’t summon the memory of how she knew it. Which was a problem for another day, not when she had the most intriguing man she had ever met determined to break her. “That’s it…you can do it…” He continued to coax in low murmurings as he thrust forward. Despite the grip on her hair, his words were as soothing as his initial caresses had been. She concentrated on his rich voice instead of the pain still spreading through her, echoing up her spine, suffusing her muscles. His body thrummed, and he pressed forward, inch by excruciating inch, until he was completely seated. Anicka let out the breath she’d been holding, all too aware of her heart threatening to race away. The fire was still there, still radiating and pulsing through her flesh, but Sir didn’t try to push her through it or drag her along as he gratified his own needs and ignored her discomfort. He simply held still, allowing her the luxury of adjusting to his thick girth and to the way he filled her. They both remained motionless for so long she could have sworn she felt him trembling behind her, but that was ridiculous. That was her own body betraying her desire, and his only echoed it back. When the pain began to subside, she clenched around his length, eager for him to start moving. She wished she could see the look on his face, but his hold on her hair leashed her too effectively to move. She could only whisper, “Please, Sir. Please.” He leaned over her back, the texture of his shirt rough against her skin. He exhaled in a slow, long breath that tickled across the side of her face. She was completely trapped beneath him, her body pulsing in time with his, her scalp tingling with the force of his grip. She thought she might have to plead with him to move again, but before she had the chance to form the words, he eased back. She lost an inch of him, and then another inch, and another, until she felt empty. Anicka whimpered, and she couldn’t be quite sure, but she thought he did the same. Like the slow stroke was torturing him—pleasing him—as much as it did her. Again she thought he might be trembling. Like he might be the one to completely break apart. Before she could investigate that thought too much, he slammed forward. She cried out, struggling to catch her breath as he began to rock into her. There was little she could do but hold on, try to breathe, and take him in, with each agonizing stroke. He maintained the same tempo—the languorous slide out of her body, followed by the devastating drive back inside. The combined effect left her senses awhirl, forcing her to lean against the powerful arm at her side that he used to prop himself up. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder. It wasn’t to take the sting away from where he gripped her hair. It was to feel even more of him, to force their bodies together in all the ways they weren’t already joined. It felt right. Scarily right. More right, even, than the weight of her pack against her hip when she was on a mission. Anicka thought she knew exactly what to expect from him, but she couldn’t predict the kiss on her back. She had a birthmark just below the ridge of her shoulder that he found with a tender caress. His tongue traced its jagged outline, his breath so hot she thought it would scald her. Her body clenched, a bolt of electricity traveling the length of her torso, from her pulse point to her p***y. She tightened around his c**k, squeezing his shaft so he couldn’t move away from her. He disentangled his fingers from her hair, let them dance down her ribs and over her hips, and then buried them between her thighs, his thumb resting against her c**t. “What are you doing to me?” Her breathiness didn’t surprise her, but the fact that he let her turn her head and skim her mouth along his temple and savor his salty skin did. He tasted as good as he felt, like a hot summer night on the western beach of Thastas Prime. She could imagine the pair of them staring up at a star-laden sky, the soft sand cushioning their bare bodies. The vision was so real, it startled her into relaxing, and Sir took advantage of it to shuttle out of her ass again. When he thrust back in this time, he flicked his thumb. Just once. Not even very hard, but once was all it took for everything inside her to unfurl, for the fire racing beneath her skin to explode in a frenzy of color. Anicka screamed, slamming her head back against his shoulder, and writhed against her bindings as her orgasm rocketed through her. He took advantage of her release to move faster and harder. He straightened to get better leverage and unleashed himself. She cried out, torn between begging him to stop and begging him for more. The rapid pistoning of his hips sent her headlong into a second orgasm, her body buckling. For the first time since their eyes met, she felt well and truly out of control. She had no dominion over her own body. He controlled her, and it began to feel like he would never grant her freedom again. That thought seemed to be confirmed when he sparked a third climax by pinching her c**t between his thumb and forefinger. She needed to breathe. She needed to rest. She was too sensitive, but she couldn’t say any of that. She couldn’t even scream his name. At the moment when she thought he would truly break her, his c**k twitched against her tight walls, and he filled her channel with the heat of his c*m. They trembled together, at the same frequency, with the same rapid breaths. She mouthed his name over and over, unable to find a voice, but as his lips moved along her neck, she realized she didn’t need to utter it aloud. He knew. Somehow. Like he had known everything else. Like he still knew, a thought both exciting and terrifying all at the same time. The words that finally managed to break her ragged silence were not the ones she intended, but the ones she felt the most. “Thank you, Sir.” “Thank you, Nicki,” he murmured. For a moment, Anicka forgot she ever had another name. She was Nicki. He bent to kiss her shoulder again, then gently moved away from her. She moaned as he slipped out of her body, leaving her feeling sore and wonderful. “You want me to untie you?” “Please.” She held still while he climbed off and carefully worked at the ropes, unmoving until her wrists were free. Then she rolled onto her back and stretched, regarding him with a sated smile. “For the record, that was pretty damn amazing.” “No. Stick around and I’ll show you pretty damn amazing.” Her smile widened. “Well, I’ve got three days to kill. Think you can beat that performance by the time I have to go?” “Yes, and I’d like the chance to prove it.” He looked around the room and grimaced. “I’ll even find a better room than this place.” “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” Her muscles protested as she sat up, but Anicka pushed herself anyway. “All we need is some food. If you point me in the direction of a bathroom, I’ll clean myself up so I can run out and get some.” “There’s a water closet behind that door. And a pretty decent store on the corner south of here.” Rising from the bed, she scooped up her clothes and pack. “I’ll make sure to get enough to last, then.” She shot him a smile from the doorway. “I don’t want a reason to have to leave again.” The water closet was barely big enough to hold the toilet and a narrow shower stall. There wasn’t even a sink, just a spigot stuck in the wall under the showerhead. She used that to quickly wash up, forgoing fixing her hair for the moment. It would just get messed up again, and she didn’t want to waste any more time than she had to. “Anything specifically you want me to get for you?” she asked when she emerged. “No. I’m fine with anything you like. Just make sure you hurry back.” “That’s the plan.” On a whim, she crossed the room and leaned down, sealing her mouth over his. It was only meant to be a quick kiss, but at the very first contact, he opened to her, his hand coming to the back of her neck to hold her in place. Anicka moaned at the softer swipe of his tongue over hers, a slow search that was nothing like the assault on her body from before. She imagined it was like the caress along her birthmark, and wondered what kind of man could contain such divergent impulses within the same body. She finally pulled back, panting lightly. “You make it very hard to go, you know.” “Maybe that’s part of my plan. Make it so you never want to leave.” An alluring idea, to say the least. Too bad she couldn’t seriously consider it. She left him behind with a fresh swing to her hips and new fire in her veins. The night had grown colder since she’d arrived, clouds now obscuring any trace of stars or moons. Shadows lengthened across the narrow road, but she could just make out the lights in the store Sir had mentioned down the street. As she followed its beacon, she mused on what his real name might be and what she would have to do to get it. That brought a smile. The next three days were going to be the highlight of her entire assignment, if not her year. She saw the flicker of darkness a second too late. Three men stepped from a skinny alleyway and blocked her path. When she took an instinctive step back, powerful hands gripped her upper arms to hold her still. “Well, look who it is. Somebody who should have gotten off this rock while she had the chance.” Anicka didn’t recognize the voice, but once the speaker stepped out of the shadows, she knew the face. Everybody on the planet would recognize it. It was flat, like somebody had beat him with a shovel, and covered in pockmarks and oozing sores. Just looking at him made her stomach churn. Omer’s chief-of-security, Andreas Baptiste. “You know how it goes. Places to see, business to take care of.” She c****d her head, pretending to look concerned. “Aren’t you supposed to be glued to Omer’s side? I know you’d prefer being nailed on his prick, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers, huh?” “We fished Omer out of the river a few hours ago. We dug him a grave big enough for two. Not that you’ll need that much space by the time I’m finished.” Though she kept her features impassive, inwardly Anicka swore. She’d hoped the current would work in her favor and get Omer’s body out of the way a little bit longer, at least until she made her rendezvous. “Oh, I don’t think Omer wants to spend eternity stuck with me.” Mentally, she sorted through the three men in front of her, picking out their strengths and weaknesses. Andreas had gone for brawn for this particular job. That might work in her favor. “But you know, if I find someone—” She started moving in midsentence. Using the solid weight at her back to brace against, she kicked up and out. Both of her boot heels slammed into the throat of the man who seemed the slowest, crushing his larynx upon impact. He fell bonelessly to the ground, clutching his throat and making sick, choking sounds. She knew she wouldn’t have to worry about him again, but she didn’t have the time to feel any satisfaction over that before the other two men moved in. She slammed her head back, hoping she would hit her captor’s nose, but he was too tall, and she only grazed his chin. The man on her right drove his fist into her solar plexus, knocking the air from her lungs, but she managed to tangle her foot with his legs, throwing him off balance enough to kick his chest with her other leg. “Just gut her,” Andreas said, almost sounding bored. “We can still have our fun with her after she’s dead.” She didn’t have time to look around for who had the knife. They all probably did. The fact that she didn’t, that she didn’t have anything as a weapon except herself, made timing critical. She went limp. The sudden shift in her weight pulled the man holding her forward, giving her the space she needed to bolt straight again and drive the top of her head into the underside of his jaw. Bones and teeth crunched. Though her ears now rang, it startled her captor enough to loosen his grip and give her room to slither free. Almost as soon as she escaped his arms, a large boot connected with her back, slamming into her kidney and sending her sprawling to the ground. The cement was wet and slimy beneath her, and she put her hand out at the last second to catch herself and stop her face from sliding across the sidewalk. Ignoring the pain radiating up her spine, she rolled over and prepared to jump to her feet. But the sight that greeted her made her blood run cold, freezing her in place. Sir had Andreas by the forehead and chin. Without warning, he twisted. Bones snapped like sticks, echoing into the darkness around them. He tossed Andreas aside like he was nothing more than a bag of rotten vegetables and turned his attention on the two remaining men. From her place on the ground, he loomed even larger. She was not a small woman, and she hadn’t been intimidated by his size either at the Hole or his room, but right here, if this had been the first time she had ever seen the man, she would have been more than a little worried. The odd thing was, after the initial shock of seeing him manhandle Andreas so casually, he didn’t scare her. She should’ve been terrified. He moved like liquid night, silent in spite of how big he was, deadlier than he appeared. But even as he faced down the other two men, Anicka knew she was perfectly safe with him. His arrival reinvigorated her. She kipped up and immediately faced off with the man who’d been holding her. Blood poured freely from the side of his mouth. She wondered if he’d bitten his tongue off when she’d slammed into his jaw. The glint of hate in his eyes warned her of his first swing, and she twisted out of its way in plenty of time to grab the knife still sheathed on his belt. She swung it around in the same, easy sweep, and buried it to the hilt between his shoulder blades. Somebody’s howl of pain was cut off with a squelching gurgle, and then everything was silent. Two men lay at Sir’s feet, as broken as their fallen leader. Sir wasn’t even breathing hard. He looked up, catching her gaze, and she was startled to see genuine worry reflected in his eyes. “Are you hurt?” “I’m fine,” she said automatically. She stepped closer, searching for any sign of the fight he’d just had. She found none. Hell, his clothes were barely rumpled. “Did you follow me?” “Yes. Come on. Let’s get out of here before somebody gets curious and investigates.” She didn’t move. “Normal people don’t move like you did.” “I’m as normal as you are.” “Only problem with that is I never claimed to be.” He smiled. “Have I?” “Then who are you? Because the only people I’ve ever seen do what you just did—” Her jaw snapped shut. STRIKE was a covert organization. Just because she’d lowered her guard around this man didn’t mean she should let the true nature of her life slip. “Were members of STRIKE,” he finished for her. “I know. I used to be an operative.” Now she knew something was wrong. She took a half step back. “That’s impossible. Nobody really leaves STRIKE.” Though there was one possibility. “Are you working with Mariel? Did STRIKE send someone else to watch my back?” “No. STRIKE and I didn’t part on the best terms. They didn’t like my tendency to think for myself. I guess that means you’ve technically got my life in your hands.” A chill ran through her. “You’re wanted?” “Yes. STRIKE has something that belongs to me. I’m a thorn in their side because I won’t let them alone.” “If you think for a second I’m going to let you use me as a bargaining chip with them, think again.” “No, I would never do that. I’m not the one using you, Anicka. Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that you don’t know me?” She barely heard his last question. Her brain had caught somewhere in the middle, on the fact that he’d called her by name—her real name. The single utterance brought with it an influx of imagery and emotions she couldn’t untangle. Hard, tender hands smoothing up the back of her legs. A voice rumbling from the belly of a ship. Her laughter. The hair standing up on her arms. “Don’t move.” The world shaking around her, trying to knock her to her feet. The Dome. Three assignments ago. A robed man prostrate in front of her, and that same voice— Sharp pain stabbed through her eyes. It took all her training not to let it show. “STRIKE has a long reach and a longer employment roster.” Her even voice surprised her. “So you can find out all you want to know about me, but I’m not going to give a damn about you or what you hope to gain from making contact with me unless it affects me directly, understand?” “It does affect you directly. Mariel is doing something to you. She’s…brainwashing you somehow. She’s making you forget me and who knows what else. I want to help you.” “Mariel helps me. She’s the one I trust.” Retreating another step put her level with the man she’d stabbed. Slowly, she crouched and pulled the blade from his inert body, never taking her eyes off Sir. “Mariel is using you. I have proof. I can give you whatever you need.” She snorted. “You won’t even give me your real name. Why should I believe whatever proof you’ve trumped up?” “Ares Gallo.” The name came with a shock of recognition. Not because she’d heard it before. Because she’d seen it. Or at least, she’d seen part of it. Printed in a cramped, unfamiliar script in the middle of her private journal. Her ears throbbed as she considered the implication. It was entirely possible it was a different man. There could be more than one Ares in the galaxy. But the coincidence of it created a whole new cascade of images, ones she deliberately blocked off to keep from revealing her weakness to him. “Your reputation doesn’t precede you.” Another step away. She kept the blade lightly in her grip, ready in case he did something. “You must not be very important to STRIKE after all.” “I’m important enough that they’ll do anything to keep me away from you. I know you have three days before your rendezvous. That’s all I’m asking for.” “A lot can happen in three days.” “Exactly. A lot can happen. Like I can show you the truth. Everything Mariel is keeping from you.” The way he looked at her scared Anicka. Intense. Knowing. The same qualities that had made him an amazing lover, that drew her to him in the first place, now had her wishing she’d never walked into the Hole. Because now there were other things mixed in with them, like the images she couldn’t shake, and the sharp pains in her head that came when she tried to decipher them, and the burn of his eyes that wasn’t lust or desire but something else entirely. She put her life in Mariel’s hands without questioning it. Here he was, telling her not to believe in everything she had to. Knowing him for two hours couldn’t compare to the years she’d shared with Mariel. No matter how he looked at her. “I can’t.” Then she added, without even realizing she was going to do it, “I’m sorry.” Ares studied her for a moment before removing a pin from his coat. He held it out to her, but didn’t approach. “Will you take this? Put it somewhere you’ll see it.” “Why? What is it?” “Just something to remember me by. Humor me.” She shouldn’t. If he really was some kind of rogue retired operative, he was a danger to everything STRIKE represented. Mariel would have a fit when she saw it. If she saw it. It was just a pin. A dull medal among a row of other dull medals. They had seen better days, but then again, so had Ares Gallo apparently. Anicka had no idea why he wanted her to take it, because the last thing she wanted was to think about him in those dark hours when sleep escaped her and she was driven to memories of a dingy room and an unexpected kiss on the back of her shoulder. It was just a pin. Without blinking, without taking her eyes off him, she edged forward close enough to hold out her hand. He dropped it in the center of her palm and let his arm fall to his side. Her fingers curled around the small piece of metal, the catch poking into her skin. “It would be a smart idea to get off this rock,” she said. “It’s not safe.” She wasn’t sure she was talking about herself, or him. “I’ll leave,” Ares said, taking a step back. “If you don’t want me to stay here. Keep that safe for me, will you? It’s got a lot of sentimental value.” “How do you know I won’t just hand it over to Mariel as soon as I see her?” “I don’t think you will. In fact, I know you won’t.” She wanted to retort that he didn’t know her at all, but the words choked in her throat. He’d known a lot of things about her he shouldn’t have. This was probably the most innocuous one of the bunch. “Will you answer me one thing before you go? Did you come looking for me, or was running into you at the Hole just some happy coincidence?” “Honestly? I was looking for you. And I always find you, or you always find me. But then you leave.” Anicka didn’t want to believe him. She didn’t want to believe this entire night had happened at all. But the proof was drawing blood in her hand, and the bodies were strewn on the ground around her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling there was a lot more to what Ares Gallo was saying than she was giving him credit for. So she turned on her heel and ran. As fast as she could, as long as she could. She had three days until her rendezvous. Three days to replay the events of the past few hours, multiple times, on fast forward or rewind. Three days to discern what the significance of this pin really was. And if the man who called himself Ares Gallo was the same Ares who had left the note in her private journal. The note she’d found after the assignment on the Dome. In a place nobody knew about but herself. A place that should’ve been impossible for anybody but her to reach. Except a man named Ares had. And if his story was true, he would again.