He drew close to her, wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. At her raised eyebrow, he murmured an explanation. Pleasure slaves see to the protection of their mistresses.
Maybe she believed him, or maybe she saw this as the justification it truly was. Pleasure slaves werent bodyguards. Still, she nestled closer against him, her own arm circling his waist. Slim and warm, she felt precisely right, and he tried without success not to imagine future days with her exactly the same waytucked against him, taking his strength, but having her own too.
He met the gazes of Bern and Leyon, who stood on the opposite side of the club. He stared back,
tightening his grip on Maras shoulders. Staking his claim. The two smugglers at last gave barely noticeable nods, conceding. She was not theirs, and never would be. And if, some day, she did decide to take them to her bed, he didnt ever want to know. Her life in the future belonged to her alone, and she could take as many lovers as she wanted, but that didnt mean he needed to revel in it.
A dark-haired woman sauntered toward them. She wore a skin-tight jumpsuitobviously the preferred garment here on Rygerevealing lavish curves. Heads turned as she approached. He noted the plasma pistol on her hip, the knife on her boot, but other than her potential threat, little else about her caught his notice.
Mara stiffened beneath his arm.
So, this is your new Halu pleasure slave. The woman ran a finger down Kells chest.
Mara knocked the womans hand away. No touching my property, Delayna.
The woman affected a pout. Not fair to hoard your toys. She stared at him with blatant interest.
You know I like to play.
He felt like a piece of raw meat dangling in front of a macskacat not a pleasant sensation.
Go play with Leyon and Bern, snapped Mara. Kell is mine.
All at once, he hardened again.
You never used to be this selfish. Delayna sulked. Remember that time we shared those Makarios triplets?
What?
Maras scowl matched his own. Get the hell out of here, Delayna, before I cut your tits off.
Fine, she sniffed. Im here for the merch, not a bedroom tussle. With a huff, the woman stomped away. Leaving a web of tension between him and Mara.
Triplets?
She actually blushed. A lot of Hanako liquor was drunk that night.
But what she did in the past, or future, was none of his concern. He had to keep reminding himself of that. Difficult, when she said things like, Kell is mine. He understood it was part of the mission, and it wouldnt be safe if she loaned out her pleasure slavewho was, in fact, an 8th Wing fighter pilotbut he couldnt stop the rush of satisfaction he felt hearing her claim him for herself.
A stocky man shoved his way through the crowd and climbed on top of a table. Everybody, shut the hell up.
The crowd, amazingly,
quieted.
The transmission from Gavras going to come in a minute. After that, I expect each and every one of you fucks to buy a drink, and then get out of my bar. Got me?
Screw you, Kusa, somebody shouted.
Kusa grabbed a knife from his belt and threw it at the shouter. His aim was good, because the knife hit the intended target right in the bicep. The man yelped in pain as blood spurted from the wound, staining his shirt. A roar of laughter went up from the crowd.
Buy a goddamn drink, then leave. Got me?
Yes, the crowd muttered.
You keep refined company, Kell murmured into Maras ear.
She gazed up at him through eyelashes pale as clouds. My taste is improving.
He burned with the need to kiss her, savor her again after too many hours without. Hesitation lasted only a moment. He was a pleasure slave, after all. What he knew was giving pleasurehers. So he took her mouth, and she responded immediately, opening for him. Her fingers curled over his shoulders, gripping tightly, as he pulled her closer. She was spice and sweetness, more potent and addicting than specerij .
The withdrawal was going to be hell. He couldnt make himself care.
It was she who broke the kiss, reluctantly. The transmission. About to start.
He shook his head, clearing it. Gods, she was dangerous, especially now that he knew what it was to kiss her, to make love to her.
Forcing himself to focus, he noticed that the club owner, Kusa, had set up a holo transmitter atop a table. Kusa punched a few buttons on the transmitter, and then an image flickered to life. It showed a red-haired woman of middle years, with a polished Jereian ruby where her right eye had once been.
Listen up, trash, the woman said without preamble. Ive got prime merch to sell to the highest bidder. A Black Wraith ship and an 8th Wing pilot, both in excellent shape. The pilot puts up a fight, but thatll make things interesting for whoever gets her.
A coarse chuckle rose up from the mob. Kell struggled to keep his breathing even. Like hell would he let anyone lay a hand on Lieutenant Jur. He could only hope she was largely untouched at this point.
How do we know youve got the merch? someone yelled.
Yeahyou could be pulling a bait and switch, seconded another.