Chapter 13
Coercion [ koh- ur -shun ] noun
A rare Binder skill which allows the Talent to scan the mind of a subaltern and impose their will upon them. Periodic refreshers are required to keep the subject malleable.
– Excerpt from A Treatise on Talents , Third Edition
“Talents do not use their abilities on one another without consent. Though breaches in propriety have been known to occur, let me be very clear. As future lords and ladies of Glynfyls, the practice is strictly prohibited. House wars have begun over far less. Committing such an atrocity is so grievous, even those poor savages in the Source abide by this First Tenet.”
– Lady Valtroy, Academy Headmistress,
Glynfyls
They shifted into a frigid dimness. Flynn growled, pulling Kara closer.
Where the hell had that asshole?—
A strike and the flare of flame. Graham set an oil lamp on a table, throwing their shadows against stacks of boxes and crates. The roughly hewn logs that made up the wall facing them gaped, badly in need of rechinking. Cold poured through the cracks that weren’t stuffed with rags.
Kara shivered, wrapping her arms around Flynn’s waist and burrowing into his coat. “Where are we?”
He pulled talent, shielding them from the worst of the cold. “An icehouse.” She pushed back, and he snorted at her expression. “No, not like—all this shit’s stolen. They let it sit here to cool off before they move it.”
“They’re scavengers?”
“Smugglers, it’s different.”
“Do you?—”
“No.” He glared at Leo, edging past her. His cousin smirked but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Flynn pushed aside a blanket tacked against the wall. Her irritation at his curt reply prickled through their bond.
It was better than having to explain himself.
The window behind the moth-riddled cloth was opaque with neglect, and a large crack crazed across it, a shard missing. It was dusk, and dense forest surrounded them. Light from a cluster of cabins flickered through the trees. Not a clue where they were. He let the blanket drop, and the whole thing sagged. Flynn kicked the bench away from the wood stove Graham was fiddling with and sat, breathing in the desuetude of the place.
Christ, he missed the coop.
The draw on the stove was poor, and a cloud of smoke belched into the room. He reached over Graham and adjusted the damper. Bench was still too close. Flynn pushed the table as far back as it would go, which wasn’t very. The boxes underneath it didn’t help. Neither did the far edge catching the steps leading up to a loft. More crates loomed down from above.
“Why you so stocked?”
The brothers exchanged a glance. “They razed Greyburn.”
Flynn swore. Like he fucking needed that on his conscience .
Kara searched their faces. “What does that mean?”
He went to answer her, and Leo opened his big fat mouth.
“It means that squad that came looking for you let loose. The whole deadtown’s a smear, along with anyone they got ahold of. Source’ll chalk it up to resistance, but I’m pretty sure the kids in the clinic were too sick to put up much of a fight.” She ghosted white and that fucking smirk was back on his face. Flynn took a step toward him, and it didn’t stick around. Leo grabbed Graham’s arm. “Come on, let’s get your gear.”
Their halos flared and they were gone. What a fucking asshole.
Flynn sat down, his insides heavy. Jesus. He’d known good people in Greyburn…
Kara drifted over to him, and he pulled her onto his knee. Just having her close made him feel better. When had that happened? She leaned back against him, chewing the side of her thumb. Was what Leo had said weighing on her, or it was everything earlier? Goddamn it, he knew he was gonna fuck this up?—
“How do you think they found us? Graham seems like such a careful guy.”
“I dunno. They’ve been trained for this shit, and I’ve got you cloaked. Graham’s meticulous, but Leo’s always been fucking sloppy. Asshole could’ve done something stupid and tipped them off. What he said, Kara, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Fair enough. Flynn slid his fingers through her hair, working out the little knots that’d gathered at the bottom. After a while, she relaxed against him. He kissed the nape of her neck, desire thrumming between them. Damn this compulsion. Shit, if it was the compulsion. She made a little noise, and it didn’t matter what it was.
He nibbled at her ear. “You wanna check out upstairs?”
Kara turned, batting her lashes. “Do you want me to tell you what I want?”
She squealed as he slung her over his shoulder and smacked her ass, running up the steps two at a time. The loft was just as packed as below. Flynn sat her on the edge of a crate, his fingers tangling what he’d just unknotted, her mouth on his. She bit his lip hard, and a growl welled up. Fuck, that was never good. He pulled back, breathing heavily.
“Don’t. I—” He swallowed, tasting copper, the animal in him rising up. This was gonna go bad fast. His voice hitched. “I’ll hurt you, Kara.”
She laughed, her lips on his throat. “That’s the idea…” Her hand dropped down to squeeze him. “Do I only get spanked if I spar with another guy, or can I do something else naughty to deserve it?”
He groaned, gripping her wrist. “Stop tempting me, woman.”
She raised her face to his, the amusement in her eyes thinly veiled. “You won’t hurt me.”
“Yeah, I will.”
Kara shrugged, her hands at his belt. “I’ll take my chances.”
“You’re not fucking list?—”
He hit the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of him and see stars, his arms held fast above his head.
The fuck?!
“You can’t do anything to me I don’t want you to do,” Kara whispered, her lips teasing his lobe. “I’d be more worried about what I’m going to do to you.” He tried to lower his arms, and she laughed softly, keeping him pinned. “Say please.”
Flynn stared at the sloped roof above, streaks of light from between the floorboards painting it. Dust drifted through the pale splinters, so at odds with the thudding in his chest. Kara nipped at him, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
She’d beaten the shit out of a Peacekeeper. The same asshole that’d broken his jaw had barely managed to bloody her nose…
He couldn’t hurt her, unless she wanted him to.
He flushed hot and then cold as the realization set in.
Something in him let go, and he took a pained breath, a groan from the depths of his being caught in his throat, his eyes hot. Kara released his wrists, trailing a finger down the side of his face. He turned to kiss her palm, blinking away the moisture.
“What the hell are you doing to me?” Fuck, she was perfect.
“Not nearly enough at the moment.” Her cheek dimpled, and he laughed, flipping her on to her back. Goddamn. The things he wanted to do… He couldn’t hurt her…
But she’d given him the green light to try.
“Is that right?” His hand tightened on her hip, and he felt her arousal jump, pupils swallowing the color of her eyes.
“Flynn, you up there?” Graham’s voice filtered through the floor.
“Yeah, fuck off.” Flynn licked his lips, his gaze not wavering from hers. He ripped his shirt over his head and kicked off his boots. Down below, Leo swore.
Kara followed suit, her anticipation making Flynn break out in a cold sweat. She yelped as he smacked her bare backside and pushed her against a crate, blood pumping in his ears. A door slammed. He wrapped her hair around his fist, pulling her head to the side. Licking a long line up her neck, he breathed into her ear, fingers teasing between her thighs.
“You have any idea how dirty the shit I wanna do to you is?” He bit at the mark on her throat, and she moaned, pushing back against his hand, fucking soaked.
“Tell me…”
“I wanna taste all of you Kara. I want your desire, your pain, I wanna lap it up and have you beg me for more.” His fist tightened in her hair, and she cried out. “You’re mine. My wife, my lady. My filthy whore. Every part you. No one else touches you, and I swear to Christ, I will kill that peacekeeping fucker.” She whimpered at his growl, and his cock went rock hard at her fear-entwined lust, emboldening him. “That spanking was supposed to be punishment. If it didn’t teach you a lesson…” His fingers slid to her pucker with a shiver of anxiety, and she drew in a sharp breath. Goddamn, he wanted it. “I promise getting fucked in the ass will.”
He swirled around her tight rosebud. She tensed, but didn’t pull away, her breathing stilted. Flynn feathered kisses along her throat, a hand rising to pull at her taut nipple.
“I’m in control?” she murmured.
“You say stop, we stop, but I will claim that ass, Kara. All of you is mine. ”
A tremor went through her, tension bleeding away. “As my lord wishes.”
Lust shot through him. Jesus Christ. Those fucking words—Flynn dropped to his knees and laved across her pucker, gripping her hips as she gasped, jerking to her tip toes.
“Oh!”
He swatted her ass, stinging it red, and she cried out. “Spread your cheeks for me. More. Mmm… that’s right, now bend over, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Flynn nosed into her folds. Tongue delving, then dipping low to come back up again and breech her hole.
Kara went stock-still. Shit, she was gonna bolt—her breath hitched. “You want me to stop?” His fingers found her silken core, and she moaned, working herself against them. Christ, if he could stop…
“I trust you.”
She shouldn’t, but he’d be damned if he ever gave her a reason not to.
Kara panted when he pulled back from feasting, chin slick with her desire. He blew a whisper of air across her swollen flesh, watching her clench, his cock throbbing. He sat back on his heels, stroking it, the tip as wet as she was. Goddamn. “Tell me what you want me to do to you, Kara. I need to hear you say it.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and watched him fist himself, biting her lip. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes hooded as she ran a finger along her crack. “You want to put that here?”
He took a rough breath, praying she couldn’t feel the shame beneath his desire. “Yeah.”
Her hand spread to cover herself. “You’re going to make it hurt. That’s what’s going to get you off, isn’t it.”
Shit wasn’t a question. Fuck. He nodded, torn between how bad he needed it to and how damned wrong it was. Christ, he was a perv, and now she knew. “I told you, I’m not a good?—”
She laughed, her palm catching him across the face, snapping his head back and putting him on his ass. “You want it? Come get it.”
Kara took off among the crates and lust shot through him, their bond humming with her desire-laced challenge.
The animal in him surged forward, suffusing his senses, burying his shame. A fierce grin split his lips, the scent of her thick in his nose… God, that perfume…there was no thought as he went after her, Kara’s laughter ringing in his ears.
It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
He stalked her, trying to catch her, to wrestle her down… Everything fell away but her and the chase?—
A crate fell over with a loud crash and a tinkle of broken glass as he pinned her.
“You like playing hard to get?” He panted, his body sliding against her sweat slicked skin. Christ, that wasn’t the only crate that’d toppled. They’d fucking trashed the place. When had that happened? A feeling of dread coiled in his belly. Shit, he was losing time again?—
“I like making you work for it.” Kara’s fingers wrapped around him, her lips on his. The echo of him, feeling her, feeling him swept his trepidation away, and it was just them. His teeth scored across the bite mark at her throat, copper tinging his tongue, a growl welling… Goddamn, he needed to stop…
“Don’t stop,” she gasped, fingers buried in his hair. “I want you, all of you.”
“You don’t know what that means.”
“Then show me.” He ran a hand over his face, his emotions at war. “Please, Flynn… show me.”
He couldn’t hurt her.
Fuck, he wanted to do his damndest to, and she knew it.
“I… I won’t do anything you don’t ask me to,” he blurted. Her brows furrowed. “I-it keeps me from doing things I’ll regret.” For the most part. He swallowed, his face flushing with shame. Kara trailed a hand down his chest, her gaze pinning him. His mouth went dry at what was in it.
“Will you regret taking me back there?”
The question went straight to his cock. Yes. No. He wet his lips. “Not while I’m doing it.”
She laughed, stroking him. “You don’t lie, do you?”
“Never. Is that what you want?”
“I let you catch me, didn’t I?”
His eyebrow quirked. “Did you? ”
She laughed again. “Shut up and claim your prize, Laughlin.”
“As my lady wishes.”
Face between her thighs, tongue swirling at her apex, he moaned at the taste of her, lapping. She gripped his hair, writhing against him. His fingers glossy with her need, he slid one between her cheeks, pressing a fingertip to her entrance. Working it in. His breath caught with Kara’s, the aching burn of desire blooming through their bond. She gave a gasping cry, back arching, her breasts pebbled to points?—
He captured one with his mouth, matching the slow pump of his hand with his lips, thumb rubbing her swollen flesh. Adding a finger. Kara trembled against him, nails digging into his scalp.
“I’m going to—” He took his hand away and she let out a sob. “No, please, don’t stop?—”
“Tell me you want this.” He slicked himself against her and she moaned.
“I do. Oh, Glory, please…”
Goddamned, that ‘please’ lit him up.
He breached her tight rim, the gripping burn making his arms buckle at either side of her. His breath huffed staccato. That was what it felt like? Kara cried out, eyes wide. Fuck, it was intense. The pain of it melding with exquisite pleasure… He rested his forehead against hers, undone by the intimacy, gazing into the windows of her soul and losing his.
Flynn filled her by increments, seating his hips to hers. A slow retreating and return. The roughness of his groin grinding against her wet smoothness. She undulated against him, and his thrusts became punishing, mouth plundering hers, dining on her cries. She bit him hard, his blood staining their kiss. He groaned, feeling her, feeling him, unable to separate the violence from desire, their passion cresting—she shattered around him, nails flaying long lines down his biceps. He bellowed, spearing into her, his orgasm ripping through him.
Motherf—it’d never been like that. Flynn shook his head, blinking to clear his vision, still so goddamned turned on?—
Her fist took him in the eye, and she flipped him onto his back. Her chest heaved, breasts fucking glorious. “Now it’s your turn to scream. Cloak my talent. ”
Cloak her—Kara’s halos flared, and his arms were bound fast above his head, the rest of him immobile. Her scent intensified and a delicious pressure started in his loins, pulsing and sucking at him. Another bind. White light built in his brain, his arousal already threatening to peak. He arched up—“Holy shit, I’m gonna?—”
She laughed low and wicked. The pressure intensified, dancing with pain. Fuck he couldn’t—he needed to—Kara bit at her lip, working herself onto his shaft?—
He was gonna die. That primal part of him was losing its goddamned mind. He struggled against her binds, needing to cover her, fuck, to pound her through the fucking floor?—
Her fingers slid down her sternum, dipping to pleasure herself. “I want you to watch me use you, Flynn. And I’m not going to let you come until I’m done.”
Hyperventilating. He was hyperventilating.
She leaned forward to nibble at the split in his lip, the pebbled tips of her breasts trailing fire across his chest, the slide of him inside her—“Please Kara, I need?—”
Her talent flared again, caressing his gland.
OHGODOHGODOHGOD.
She slapped him, and he sucked in a breath. Shit, did he black out? Her brows were furrowed. “Too much?”
“No.” Fuck no—this, Christ he couldn’t even explain this. What it was doing to him. God, she was so fucking sexy, he wanted to?—
“Mmm. Good. I like you like this.” She started to move again, and his eyes shot to her slicking over his turgid length. Flynn burned with heat, whimpering, the sensation in his groin a sensual hell she kept stoking higher…the bind stroking and pulsing, denying him release while driving him toward it.
“Please, Kara—I can’t?—”
She’d begun to pant, throwing her head back, her wetness coating him, dripping torture down his skin. That white intensity in his brain spotted with color. His breath labored out in short, sharp bursts, sweat glistening over his skin, needing to come. Christ, it fucking hurt so goddamned good?—
“Jesus fucking—please, Kara?— ”
Her palm slapped onto his chest, nails gouging furrows to his abs. He screamed, and she let out a guttural moan, dropping her bind.
Flynn roared, stars exploding across his vision, his release a pulsing torrent. He bucked into her, flipping her on her back, toes scrabbling for purchase, driving himself deep—wood cracked, and then there was only the repleteness of their bond washing over them. Him, feeling her, feeling him buried inside her, the pulse of them together. Giving and taking.
Their kiss was tender.
Fuuuck… “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” His temper spiked as soon as the question left his mouth. If he ever found the fucker, he was gonna?—
She laughed, running her fingers through his hair. “I read a lot of instruction manuals in my spare time. You liked it?”
Like was a fucking understatement. He flopped down beside her, limp. Well, most of him. How the hell could he still be hard after that? She noticed, snuggling under his arm, and reaching down to stroke him. “There’s another bind I read about…unless you still have an issue with my talent?”
He snorted, rolling over to kiss her. “Who said I had an issue?”
She dimpled for him, her halos golden with promise.
Hours later, he lay staring up at those streaks of light, watching the dust float. Kara nuzzled against his chest, asleep. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, afraid to move and spoil it. He’d let her see…shown her, and she didn’t despise him.
Christ, she’d one upped him, and it was fucking epic, a balm, sating something that’d been eating at him for as long as he could remember. That constant gnawing in his guts was gone.
He was happy.
When was the last time he could say that? A jumble of fleeting memories, none of them lasting, nothing he could touch…he twined a lock of her hair through his fingers, feeling lighter and heavier at the revelation.
This…this he would keep.
Sounds of someone moving around below brought reality crashing back. To do that, he needed to get her north. He eased his arm out from under her, letting her sleep curled up in his coat. Flynn pulled on his jeans and grabbed his shirt and boots, going downstairs. Graham was at the table with a mug of coffee.
“There another one of those?” His cousin nodded toward the stove. Flynn yanked on his shirt and poured a cup. He sat down on the bench with a little laugh. Christ, he couldn’t stop smiling. His lip was split, and it felt like Kara had given him one hell of a black eye. “Where’s Leo?”
“Getting dinner at that work camp by Camloch. Those assholes ruined my ham.” Graham looked Flynn’s face over, then at the loft. “She okay?”
“No, she’s fucking perfect.” He laughed again, tying his boots. His cousin frowned. “I didn’t—She asked me, Graham.” Christ, she’d fucking begged him, and he’d done his fair share of that too. Half that screaming had been him. Woman gave it as good as she took it. Shit, that second time she’d taken off, she’d made him work harder than half the guys he’d gone up against in the ring.
“I don’t get it, but it’s good to see you happy.”
A door on the other side of the room slammed, and Leo walked over, dropping a bag onto the table between them. He did a double take at Flynn’s face. “Jesus fucking Christ. So much for her fixing it, but it’s about time one of them paid you back for beating the shit out of them with your dick. I’m not staying for another round. Car should be set to go as soon as we eat. Wouldn’t want either one of you getting peaked after that performance.”
Flynn’s ears perked up at the sound of Kara moving around upstairs. Damn, he just wanted to go back up there?—
Something hit him in the chest, and he caught it reflexively.
“Eat your fucking sandwich.”
Flynn returned Leo’s glare, unwrapping the grinder. Asshole was lucky he was so goddamned hungry. Sweet, combos. He took a huge bite.
Kara came down a minute later, her face crimson. Christ, that was adorable, especially after the shit she’d just done. Flynn pulled her onto his lap for a lingering kiss, rethinking eating. Goddamn, he’d never sweated over a girl this bad .
She slid off his lap to sit beside him, thanking Graham when he passed her a grinder. A livid bruise peeked from her sleeve when she reached for it. A rush of heat seared through him, her eyes snapping to his.
Fuck, he?—
“Goddamn it Flynn!” Leo smacked the table, and they jumped. “Reel it the fuck in!”
Kara glanced between the two of them, lost. Flynn laughed. Leo had said seeing sex energy was like watching a headache-inducing psychedelic porno. Hope the asshole was enjoying the show.
“I had a big meal planned, but I guess this’ll have to do.” Graham stared forlornly at the pile of his stuff crammed into the corner, oblivious. “I wanted to thank you for fixing my gear, not that it makes any difference now.”
“It’s fine, you’re just pissed Miriam’s gonna use that powdered shit on your pans. I told you not to get too cozy down here in case we had to bail,” Leo scoffed, still glaring at Flynn. He smiled back at him as he chewed.
“You weren’t complaining about my crepes, and that stuff scores the copper. I’ve told her that repeatedly.” Graham shot his brother an injured look Leo ignored, too busy transferring his glare to Kara.
“So. Tell me about Mick. Man’s not exactly himself.”
Great. Leo’s back was up. He’d be a major pain in the ass until he snapped out of it. Flynn tried not to bristle at his tone. Kara stared down at her grinder, reluctant to answer. He nabbed the salami she’d picked off and popped it into his mouth. Was it the subject, or because Leo was a dick?
“There’s this test…” She worried her lip. “If you pass, they train you how to modify thinking patterns. Only a handful of Binders can do it, even less actively. It’s not common knowledge. No one likes to talk about it.”
Raising an eyebrow, Leo flipped a slice of tomato disdainfully onto Flynn’s wrapper. “Modify…so you’re saying you can just pop into our heads and mess with our minds?”
Flynn stopped mid-chew, his stomach dropping. Shit, no wonder she hadn’t wanted to answer. Had she messed with his ?
Kara glanced over at him, her expression pained. She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t work on Talents, and I’m not very good at it. I failed out of the program. You see it all, everything you take…” She closed her eyes, looking ill.
Christ, he was an ass. Flynn put his arm around her. She leaned against him, a warmth suffusing him as her emotions steadied at his touch. It was the same for her. He bit back a smile, giving her a squeeze.
“I altered Mick’s mind, but it was a shoddy job. I probably made him overenthusiastic in his need to accommodate.”
Leo sat back in his chair, unreadable. He took a long swallow of his drink, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It had a slight tremor. “You’re positive you can’t mess with a Talent like that?”
Kara sighed, hooking her hair behind an ear. “Honestly, I’m not positive about anything anymore. A few weeks ago, I would’ve said coercing a Talent was impossible. Now? I mean, I still don’t think it’s very likely. I’ve never heard of it, or seen it done, but I guess I can’t rule it out.”
“Could another Binder undo what you did?”
“No. That I am positive about. Those things I took from his mind…” She poked at her grinder. “They’re gone.”
Something about the way she said it didn’t feel right, but Flynn wasn’t going to ask about it now. He kissed the crown of her head. She looked up, and a shiver of desire swept through them both. Her eyes traveled to the bruise at his throat. Heat shot through him, the memory of her taste on his tongue. Goddamn, she made him sweat.
“Well, I figured I’d ask.” Leo said too loudly, raising his glass in a toast, glaring at Flynn again. “To Kara, mistress of lobotomies, fixer of faces, my cousin’s wife.”
Asshole. Flynn snorted at the typical one-eighty Leo’s attitude had taken.
“I can’t get used to it,” Graham murmured, finishing his grinder.
“Mick, Flynn’s face, or his wife?” Leo asked around a mouthful.
“All of it.”
He grunted in agreement and Flynn shrugged. Graham wasn’t the only one.
Riegel stood in a small clearing roughly four hours southwest of the last documented surges. The early morning sun was barely a glow on the horizon. He was pleased the Commandant had relented, sending his squad to investigate instead of Pax’s. Not even the crush of this insufferable helmet could keep the smile from flitting across his lips. Riegel sincerely hoped the Peacekeeper froze off something precious while he was babysitting the border.
The thought helped steady him. It was time. He took a deep breath before dropping his face shield. Sweat immediately soaked his body, and he pulled up zero state to compensate for the panic. It wouldn’t last long.
He gave the order to proceed.
The squad fanned out, moving quickly through the sentinel pines. They swayed above, their rasping branches covering the fall of boots below. Lights appeared between their boles. Riegel signaled half his men around the eastern side of the encampment. He led the rest of the squad to secure the west.
Several poorly constructed cabins raised up on cinderblocks were strewn beneath the trees. Smoke came from three of them. Two were centrally located and the third set back some distance from the rest.
“Farris, recon,” Riegel ordered through comms.
The tek crept forward, keeping low as he approached the first occupied structure, about to deploy a scout unit.
A door opened.
“Hold.”
A flash of flame as a man lit his cigarette. Minutes passed, and Riegel licked the sweat from his lip, struggling to maintain zero. It was so hard to breathe?—
The smoker flicked the butt away and went back inside.
“Proceed.”
The scout unit made a sweep of the first few cabins, its findings crawling down the inside of Riegel’s face shield like insects. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to hurl the cursed thing from him. A dozen occupants in the closest cabins, just starting to stir. All too bulky or tall to be Kara. The last structure registered four heat signatures seated, presumably around a table.
One of which was considerably more petite than the others.
Riegel’s grin was feral. “Advance.”
They closed in on the buildings, and he made a beeline for the one with Kara. Sending a burst of talent ahead of himself, the door splintered inwards, spraying the room with debris. He ripped off his helmet, striding through the wreckage, slavering toward?—
An adolescent male.
Riegel gnashed his teeth, sending out another burst of talent in his fury. The cabin lurched on its footings, and something tore through his ear then hit the far wall.
He spun, crouching with his firearm drawn, pain sharpening his senses. A second projectile pitted the wall. He jammed the damned helmet back on, adrenaline overshadowing his anxiety as the face shield dropped. By the trajectory, the shots had come through the open door.
“Shots fired from the southeast of the encampment. Sweep the trees, there’s a sniper somewhere out there.”
The squad responded to the threat, and Riegel stood, looking over his shoulder at the boy curled up on the floor. A paltry trickle of blood seeped from his nose. He should’ve been able to reduce all of them to pulp. The impotency of his talent further incited his rage.
Farris’s voice came over comms. “All detainees are subs, sir. No weapons found. What do you want to do with them?” Riegel turned to eye the line of men on their knees, awaiting his judgement. They all looked at the floor, heads bowed in submission as was right.
Clenching his fists, Riegel struggled to tamp down his bloodlust. His ear throbbed, a hot, sticky trail running into his collar. He struggled to keep his voice steady as he answered.
“Take them back for questioning.”
Ferris saluted and herded the group out. Another threw the boy over his shoulder like a sack. Riegel’s comms crackled.
“All clear, sir. Whoever was here, they aren’t now.”
“Run a second sweep.” His temples pounded as he crossed the floor to inspect the bullet holes. Source caliber. They’d gone clean through the roughly hewn logs, and whomever fired had waited for that headshot.
Damn Ielle, but she’d been right. The Commandant was playing his hand.
Riegel focused on the table, blowing a ragged hole through its middle. When he’d been bound to Kara, he could’ve flattened this entire pitiful site with a thought. That he was reduced to this?—
He was running out of time.
Taking a deep breath, he stormed back to the craft, his fury multiplied by failure.
Titus reviewed the real-time data from Riegel’s botched expedition. Another dead end. He swirled the bourbon in his glass, ice clinking. There had to be a logical explanation for the disparity in talent Riegel was exhibiting, but for the life of him, he couldn’t come up with one. It was a pity that shot hadn’t ended the man. If his continued existence wasn’t necessary to throw Albanach off the scent of that Shade, Titus would finish the job himself. He swept the holo away with a frustrated grunt.
A communications orb blinked into existence, his secretary’s crisp voice coming through. “Sir?”
“Yes, Marina?”
“If you have a moment, Talent Ielle is asking to speak with you.”
Interesting. People never asked to see him unless they had no other recourse. Perhaps Riegel’s little groupie was here to place a formal complaint. She had been rather ill-used of late. Titus shook some pills out into his hand and threw them back. Damned headaches.
“Send her in.”
The orb winked out, and the striking creature sauntered before his desk. Titus looked her up and down appreciatively. Ielle had the pronounced curves of a G27, engineered just before the breeder’s current androgyny kick. He’d considered buying her on several occasions, but Kasham’s asking price was exorbitant.
“What can I do for you, Talent?” His T’s were very crisp, and his expression left no doubt as to what he’d like that to entail. Ielle smiled coyly, flashing the gap where one of her molars had been. It was a shame to see a specimen of physical perfection marred in such a fashion. Riegel had a great many things to answer for of late.
“It’s what I can do for you, Patron Titus. I have some information that I think would be of particular interest…in exchange for a small favor.” The brazen chit approached his desk and sat.
Titus narrowed his eyes, and the pulse in her slender throat sped up. She had Breaker blood in her lineage if he wasn’t mistaken. Those Talents all had a particular craving for violence. She flipped her long hair over an alabaster shoulder and smoldered at him. This one was certainly asking for it.
He stared at her over the rim of his glass, not fond of being baited. “I’m intrigued as to what’s convinced you that I’d be inclined to bargain.”
She traced the groove in the desk’s edge, that smile playing about her lips. “I’ve found someone you’re looking for. I’ll tell you where they are, in exchange for Riegel.”
She had his attention.
Titus finished his drink and motioned for another. A sub ran out to hand him one.
“Really. How is it you’ve managed to find this someone when every one of your brethren has failed, cull?”
Her eyes flashed, and he didn’t stop the smirk from curling about his lips. Temper, temper.
“I’m well acquainted with the individual, and it is true that they’ve been impossible to find, but that doesn’t extend to what they carry. That I’ve been able to put a lock on.”
“Oh?”
“Oh.” The word dripped with innuendo.
“And should I acquiesce to your terms, what could you possibly want BrNC37 for?”
Ielle’s body melted across the top of the desk to pluck a chip of ice from his glass with two slender fingers. His nostrils flared at her deliberate antagonism. She was a bit too sure of the gentlemen’s agreement that prevented him from disciplining another Patron’s property.
Ielle popped the chip into her mouth, sucking on it slowly.
“I want to make him suffer.”
“Do tell.”
She trilled out a laugh. “I’m afraid my contract prevents me from disclosing trade secrets to any other than my Patron. Let’s just say I’ve an idea or two…but I’m afraid they are quite labor intensive, and I couldn’t possibly attend to them with my current client list.”
His lips pursed, but she’d tempted him with more than the offer of information “Approach me.”
Ielle rose and sauntered around the desk, holding his gaze.
“Disrobe.”
She reached behind her, and the dress puddled at her feet with one practiced motion. Titus rubbed a finger across his upper lip. Exquisite.
“Do you think you’d enjoy having me as your Patron?”
“Does it matter?”
He snorted. “No. Not in the least.”
She plucked the drink from his hand and downed the last of it, then skimmed the chilled glass across her naked body before setting it on the desk. He appreciated how her flesh responded to the cold.
“I’ll look into initiating your transfer. I can assure you it won’t come cheaply, for either of us.”
She seemed unconcerned, tilting her head just so and rippling her hair along her back.
Titus’s fingers itched to pull it as he bent her over. “Leave.” He motioned for another bourbon.
The presumptuous whore bent from the waist, slowly sliding her dress back up as she exited. Titus licked the rim of his glass, looking forward to seeing how long her boldness lasted in his stable.