Enslave Me Sweetly Part 4

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."

"Who says there isn't a price on my head?"

My brows arched. "Is there?"

He shrugged. "You're the hotshot tracker. You tell me."

Our gazes clashed and held. Some invisible force refused to release me from its grip as I studied him. His features were as granite-hard and unreadable as ever. Nothing about his expression or body language betrayed his thoughts.

"Okay. Maybe there's more than one," I said. "You're not the kind of guy who knows how to play nice. Most likely, you have enemies in every city, country, and h.e.l.lhole you've ever entered."

The moment I spoke the word "play," his eyes dropped to my lips. The word actually hung between us like a living, breathing thing. Was he imagining naked, sweaty bodies? Drugging kisses and pleasure?

I glared at him, silently commanding him to look away. He didn't. In fact, his stare became more intently focused on my mouth. Such intense scrutiny unnerved me, but I was used to controlling my actions. My body would obey the will of my mind, not my l.u.s.t. I wanted to squirm and turn away, but I forbade myself even an inch of movement. For my job, I'd often sat in one place for hours, surveying my prey, not giving away my location by a single breath.

I decided to challenge him by turning his own question against him. "What areyou thinking about?"

He arched his pierced brow again. "Do you want the honest answer or the same s.h.i.+t you gave me when I asked?" He didn't give me time to reply, but finished with, "I'll give you the honest answer." He leaned forward, his mouth twisting upward, his eyes darkening. "I'm thinking how hot and wet and eager your lips will be when I win our bet."

"You don't even like me."

"I don't have to like you to want you."

How like a man. Thankfully the landing gear moaned as it disengaged, saving me from slicing that smug grin off his face with the three-p.r.o.nged razor strapped to my ankle. Never mind that I didn't like him and wanted him myself.

The self-driving ITS glided smoothly into its programmed location, a private airstrip in New Dallas. Lucius and I hustled outside. A step behind him, I found myself watching the way his b.u.t.t moved. Nice. d.a.m.n him.

The sun glared directly overhead, causing midday heat to wrap around me. My gold skin burned easily, more easily than a human's. When possible, I wore long-sleeved s.h.i.+rts (with accessible slits for weapon handling) and tight black pants (also with accessible slits). I slid my dark sungla.s.ses into place. Because I belonged to a hunted race, I also shoved my golden hair under a black ball cap.

A fine sheen of sweat formed, and a dirt-laden breeze kicked up. I hurried into the air-conditioned back seat of a bullet- and laserproof black Hummer. Two of Michael's employees waited in the front. Both were physically fit humans in their mid-thirties. I recognized them and nodded. Ren, the muscled brute in the pa.s.senger seat, had asked me out on numerous occasions. I'd always turned him down. His wandering eye irritated me.

"Thanks for the ride," I said.

"No problem, baby," Ren said, giving me a welcoming smile. "Anything for you." As he spoke, he sent me a wink. He even skimmed his gaze over my body, and I wouldn't have doubted if he mentally willed my legs apart.

Any reply I offered would have encouraged him. I knew that from experience. So I kept my mouth closed.

The easy atmosphere changed when Lucius entered the vehicle and folded his big frame beside me. Ren avoided looking directly at him, but his lips pressed together in disdain. The driver, Marko, whipped around, facing us. His olive complexion and dark eyes were rosy with...fury?

"You guys have met before, I take it," I muttered.

"He broke my f.u.c.king nose," Marko snarled.

Lucius remained unperturbed. "I'll break it again if you don't turn your a.s.s around and get us where we need to be."

There was a sizzling pause, a suspended moment between the escalating tension where I was one hundred percent confident the three men were going to kill each other. Wait. Let me rephrase. I was one hundred percent confident Lucius would kill Marko and Ren. I doubted anyone or anything could hurt Lucius Adaire.

And wasn't that a funny realization? When I'd first meet the man, I'd accused him of being all brawn and no brains, too pretty to actually fight. He'd proven himself capable during our training session. I'd give him that much.

I adjusted the sungla.s.ses on my nose. Obviously, Lucius had served time in the military. Special forces, black ops maybe. Perhaps he'd even worked for A.I.R. at one time. He moved silently, fluidly, with the patent stillness of a predator. He didn't balk at the thought of violence; he embraced it.

I still didn't want him as my partner, though. How could I prove myself? How could I prove my worth and my capabilities with this tough man at my side? Despite his threats to let me die if I got in his way, he just might jump in front of me if gunshots erupted. Agents were protectors by nature, and he wouldn't be able to help himself.

"I'm not paid by the hour, ladies, so let's get this job done," Lucius added.

I watched as Marko's flush turned ruddy, his eyes narrowed to dark slits. He slowly turned away from us. His back and shoulders were stiff, and an aura of fury radiated from him. Ren was slower to turn around. He glanced from Lucius to me, from me to Lucius. He'd never seen me with another agent before, so undoubtedly he wondered what the h.e.l.l I was doing with this one. I offered no explanation, and switched my attention to the window.

Trees were dry and yellow from lack of water. Tumbleweed rolled up the fenced enclosure and along the runway, and men rushed to remove them. Seconds later our coordinates were programmed into the car and we were speeding down winding back roads. No one spoke. In the silence, my awareness of Lucius became electric, a spark begging to burst into flame. The hard length of his thigh pressed against the firmness of mine. Where our clothes met, my nerve endings sizzled. He smelled good. Too good. Like soap and man and a hint of Michael's woodsy cigars.

To preserve my sanity, I forced my mind from such dangerous territory and concentrated on the coming confrontation with Sahara Rose. Such a gentle, fragile creature, and that fragility made her a weak link in EenLi's chain. I'd always wondered why the slaver had used the girl. Stupidity? Or desire? The latter was most likely the answer. Desire could make the sanest of people do foolish things. Wasn't I becoming proof of that?

Soon the Hummer eased to a stop in front of an old, dilapidated farmhouse on the verge of collapse. Appearances were often deceiving, and I knew this was one of those times. Inside, those splintery walls were solid and impenetrable. Trip wires and land mines littered the surrounding property. Computers and other equipment protected the "home" from invasion-as well as keeping prisoners inside.

"Ten minutes," I reminded Lucius as I jumped outside. I didn't want anyone opening my door and helping me out. Femininity and delicacy were two things I didn't want to project right now. I slammed the door closed with more force than necessary. "I'll be watching the clock."

The heat hit me instantly, once again wrapping around me like a thick blanket. Bright rays of sunlight baked everything in their path. The barren ground. The twigs and rocks. Lucius strode to my side, his long, muscled legs making short work of the distance. He radiated heat of his own, but it left a far different feeling inside me than the sun did.

"Don't be surprised," he said briskly, "when I win after only five."

I secretly smiled. So c.o.c.ky, yet so doomed for failure. I hadn't had this much fun in years. If ever. But I gave no outward reaction to his words. Instead I turned and marched forward. He stayed close to my side.

There was no one waiting for us at the door. Instead, guards and agents abounded inside, a few watching our every move as we pa.s.sed the rickety-looking threshold. Since we would never have made it to the porch without clearance, we didn't have to endure retinal scans or fingerprint IDs. Besides, we were expected. And since Michael Black controlled this little building as well as everything and everyone inside it-and he wasn't here-I guess that made me the boss for now.

My shoulders straightened at the thought.

The chipped front door closed automatically. My hands remained close to the knives strapped to my thighs. A habit, really. Immediately, I took stock of my new surroundings. Eleven men manned the first room. Two were stationed at the computer terminal in back; three were seated on the only couch, cleaning and testing weapons. The rest of the men were relaxing and talking over coffee.

Cool air welcomed me in an open embrace. Relieved, I tugged off my cap, and my hair tumbled down my back. I hated wearing hats because they retained heat, but I also didn't like hair in my face. The gold locks restricted my vision-and a good a.s.sa.s.sin needed to see everything around her. I should have cut it off long ago, but it reminded me of my mother-the only reminder I had, really-so I never had. I reached up and tugged my hair into a ponytail.

"Take Lucius to the prisoner," I said to no one in particular.

A short, stocky bull of a human immediately stepped up to my-growl-partner. "This way," he said, not meeting Lucius's eyes.

Lucius made to follow him, but I stopped him with a hand on his forearm. He paused, leveling an expressionless glance at me. "Leave your weapons with me," I said quietly.

He laughed. Actually laughed, a booming sound that filled the room. But when he spoke, his voice was as quiet as mine had been. "Not a chance."

"Did you hear what happened to that A.I.R. agent Dallas Gutierrez when another agent took a weapon into an interrogation?"

His smile remained, softening the harsh planes of his features. "I can handle myself. Besides, I wouldn't do you the favor of getting myself killed before I claim my prize." With that, he shook off my hold and strode away. At least he hadn't called me "cookie" in front of the men.

I turned to Ren, who had followed us inside. "Where can I observe?"