Chapter One #3
She hadn’t seen him smile before. No, that wasn’t true. She’d seen him smile once in the market—her first glimpse of him. She stared and thought she saw something spark in his eyes before he closed them and shut her out.
His thrusts were rapid now, and she gripped his shoulders, raised her hips, and strained for her second climax. It burst over her, sharp and quick but still breath-stealing. Leo came with a shout, the wash of his seed warm in her quim.
Amazing, she thought. Her senses worked better on the dreamscape. Everything was brighter and sharper, the scents evocative while the feelings lingered because her backside still throbbed from Leo’s hand.
Leo pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot where shoulder and neck met, this time giving her a hint of teeth.
The man seemed fascinated with that particular part of her, and she had to admit his raspy licks and nibbles pushed a raft of agreeable sensations to the fore. He could do that as long as he wanted.
He kissed her without haste. The kiss was sexy. It was passionate and pulled an appreciative groan from deep in her chest. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensations and felt as if she were flying.
Leo lifted his mouth, and she smiled. Her body jerked, and she was conscious of dropping, falling. A thump. Her eyes flew open, and she found herself on the white tiled floor of her small bedroom in Spiderus Mansion.
A dream.
A visit to the dreamscape.
She pushed to her feet, aware of a smarting on her buttocks. She rubbed them and gave a rueful grimace. While she’d dreamed of Leo spanking her, the bruises would come from her tumble to the floor.
In the distance, a timepiece chimed, and she realized it was almost morn.
“Lights on. Half power,” she mumbled in defense against the blinding illumination. The purity of the white fried her gaze, and she squinted while she donned her robe.
As she hurried to prepare Iseult’s morning meal, she wondered what the dream meant. Had she truly visited the dreamscape, or had her guilty conscience come into play because Leo Mitchell’s inevitable death weighed on her mind?
The Dalcon spaceport was crazy busy. Leo Mitchell scanned the crowds of locals and alien tourists who thronged the arrival hall and toyed with the idea of hitting someone.
Perhaps one of the big red dudes with swirling tentacles around their heads.
Their meaty fists looked as if they could do some damage.
If he were injured or unconscious, he’d have a good excuse to miss his appointment.
Leo pondered his scheme and dragged his hand through his hair, pausing as his fingers met a hat. Oh yeah. He’d shaved off his long locks. Scowling, he straightened his cap.
Hell. This picking a fight was looking better and better.
How hard would they hit? A black eye, a wired jaw, a plethora of bruises decorating his body.
He imagined the repercussions, and his shoulders slumped.
He had to keep his word because he needed the final payment to get the farming side of their enterprise fully operational.
No alternative.
Leo hefted a backpack over one shoulder and navigated a path through the mass of travelers.
He circled the Red Mumber males despite the urge to lash out and punch them in their muscled midriffs.
Innocents. They didn’t deserve his problems heaped on their heads, not after he’d walked into the trap under his own steam.
Beware of petite women bearing gifts.
His mouth twisted as he dodged two upright aliens with pale-blue skin. That was one gift horse he should’ve punched in the mouth. Worse, he’d fucked her in his dreams last night, spanked her pert arse because she hadn’t focused on him.
Weird.
He wanted to hate her—hell, most of the time he did detest her—but in his dreams he fucked her and enjoyed the experience. All kinds of messed up. A shrink would have a fun party with that screwed-up scenario.
He sidestepped a kid—at least he thought it was a child—as the hard-shelled creature scuttled past on all fours. One last meeting. All he had to do was endure this last session with Iseult Orna, collect her money, and head back to the resort, a man free of obligations.
One final session.
Leo sucked in a deep breath and exited the arrival hall.
Makeshift stalls bordered the streets and created jams in the pedestrian areas.
Fly-scoots darted overhead, avoiding the hordes of people, but facing problems of their own as they jockeyed for airspace on their journey through the city.
Market day was profitable for some, but it made for volatile crowds and short tempers.
Up ahead, the crowd jostled a stooped and wizened woman.
Several Tigrus youths, recognizable by their striped skin, hooted with laughter as the woman’s shopping flew through the air.
Bright-pink fruits spilled from a bag and rolled along the rutted cobblestones.
A jar of liquid struck the ground and shattered in an explosion of white.
Leo glared in the youths’ direction and stooped to pick up as many of the woman’s possessions he could find. “Here you go, ma’am. How far are you going?”
The woman was even older than he’d thought. Her face was a mass of lines, and she had one large milky eye instead of two like him. It blinked as she regarded him. Alarm jerked in him, a wince in reaction, and he broke their gaze. That was plain creepy.
“To the corner,” she wheezed. “My shop is there.”
“Let me carry your shopping for you,” Leo said.
“Thank ye.” Her bony hand fastened around his arm, and he fought to maintain a pleasant expression. She not only looked and sounded old, but she smelled ancient—a combination of dirt and moldy leaves with a hint of green to freshen her scent and push it a tad above disgusting.
She leaned on him and moved at the pace of a snail in ponderous steps.
The journey to her shop stretched along with his disquiet.
He unlocked the door and helped her inside.
The building appeared dingy from the outside but bore a clean and ordered interior.
Much bigger and cavernous than he’d expected.
Herbs and dried flowers hung from hooks and perfumed the space.
Transparent boxes and jars held things foreign and creepy.
His attention snagged on one. Were those dried fingers?
“Thank ye,” she said again. “Can I offer you refreshments?”
“No, I’m fine. I was glad to help you, but I have an appointment.” Leo turned away, unease pushing him to haste.
“Wait.” The woman’s hand shot out, and she gripped Leo’s arm, her fingernails digging into his flesh. “Let me give you some advice.”
“Advice?” Leo’s skin crawled, and he had to force himself not to bolt.
Her gaze bored into him, equally horrifying and magnetic. Scary as hell. “Today will be hard, boy, but you will live where others have died.”
Leo’s stomach bucked, the remnants of his coffee and chocolate roll eaten at the resort sloshing in an alarming manner and threatening to charge up his throat. How could she know what he intended to do today? What was expected of him? “I don’t know what you mean.”
Bright red swirled into her eye, combined with the white, and bled into pale pink.
“Listen to me, boy. You will survive. Don’t let revenge blacken your heart and make you so blind you can’t accept what is in front of you.
” Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Remember what I say, boy. Don’t let revenge take you over.
Now let me give you some tonic. No charge,” she added before he could argue.
Leo nodded even as his mind tried to reject her words.
She hobbled over to a shelf, appeared to ponder her choice, then reached for a glass vial. After pausing again, she reached for a second. “This will help you recover. Drink entire vial. One now. One after.” She pulled out a stopper and handed the glass vessel to him. “Drink,” she urged.
Leo scrutinized the vial then figured what the hell. God, the liquid smelled revolting. He glanced at the woman, and she gave a small nod of encouragement.
She wasn’t going to let him escape without drinking the stuff. He took a quick breath and gulped the contents. His stomach pitched and roiled, and he swallowed urgently to keep down the tonic.
“Good. Good.” She cackled, displaying a gap in her bottom set of teeth in her amusement. “Put other in jacket pocket. Drink after.”
Sharp teeth, he noted, and shuddered as he stuffed the vial in his pocket. Some of these alien types were freaky. “Thank you. I’d better go or I’ll be late for my appointment.”
“Thank ye, boy, for a kindness to an old lady.”
“You’re welcome,” Leo said with the manners ingrained by his parents, and with a last polite smile, he stalked from the shop.
His rapid breaths evened out as he stepped into the street to merge with the market crowd.
The semi-fresh air helped to settle the rocking and rolling in the pit of his stomach.
Instead, a strange warmth filled him. Peculiar, but not unpleasant. He continued to his destination.
Iseult Orna lived in the better part of the city, near the palace. Her mansion stood at the end of a cul-de-sac with no near neighbors. A tall stone fence kept unwanted visitors out, the razor wire running along the top and security guards punctuating her preference for privacy.
The closer he came to the palace, the harder he needed to work to force his limbs to function.
Fear.
It was a tight band around his chest, restricting his breathing until it felt as if each breath emerged and entered through a straw.
The mansion came into sight, and each inhalation sawed into his lungs. He forced his tense limbs to carry him to the gates, to ring the bell for entrance. A voice squawked from a concealed speaker, and Leo backed away in quick, jerky steps, the flight response kicking in big time.
Run. Run. Run!
Yet his promise to honor a contract kept his feet firm, and he stated his business in a steady voice. “Leo Mitchell to see Iseult Orna.”
The gates bearing the crest of a spider parted and slid back with nary a sound to allow him entrance to Spiderus Mansion.
Leo strode up the driveway, past the gardens, to where a petite woman waited for him.
A brown mouse with brown hair, brown eyes and a secretive nature.
She looked as if she wasn’t capable of spitting at a fly, let alone hurting one.
He knew better.
A snarl rumbled up his throat, and if he could’ve shot flames with his eyes, she’d be burning in hell.
Betrys Torin.
She was the traitorous bitch who’d lured him into this trap with her timid yet persuasive ways.
His hands clenched at his sides. Weird, but she was also the sexy siren whom he’d fucked in his dreams. Confusion about the way his brain fired lately was an understatement.
He loathed Betrys for getting him into this situation with Iseult Orna, yet during his dreams last night, he and Betrys had rolled around together naked, did decadent things to each other…
He shook himself, squared his shoulders and took a deep breath as if preparing for battle. In a sense, this was war.
Sure, Iseult Orna was beautiful, but her heart was as black as her hair and her sexual predilections were far from normal.
He’d been cocky during their first meeting, a little arrogant, but Iseult had soon slapped the swagger out of him. Shocked, traumatized after their first fucking, he’d tried to backtrack and renege on the deal.
Iseult, backed up by her muscle men, had disabused him of the notion, so he’d turned up for the second fucking and healthy payment. A fine tremor went through Leo, even though he struggled to maintain an impassive facade. The second encounter with Iseult had been even worse.
This third and final session might just kill him.