poised, almost aristocratic way she held herself. Any male, and likely many females, would want her.
He counted himself amongst that number. Only half an hour earlier, he’d almost had her. His body still protested the loss. She’d been fire and spice and hungry, so hungry. He’d never touched a woman like her before. Now his body wanted, demanded more.
Don’t think about that now, or else you’ll be walking the streets of Beskidt By with a gigantic hard-on.
“You’re a popular character,” he noted after a one-armed woman shuffled out from a shop to pound Mara on the back.
“Yes.” She tossed the remark carelessly over her shoulder. “But now I’m legendary. Nobody else has flown through the storm.” She sent him an opaque glance. “Nobody else had the same kind of help.”
“There were two of us, but we worked as one.” Though Wraith ships could accommodate two—a pilot and a gunner—Kell usually flew alone. He hadn’t expected the seamless way he and Mara had performed together. She was a damned good pilot too. Intuitive but astute.
She also looked damned sexy with her hands on the ship’s controls. Kell couldn’t help but wonder if she might grip him with the same assured skill. An image flared in his mind—him laying back, her grasping his cock, positioning him to slide into her.
Don’t fucking think it.
“Partnership is new to me,” she said.
“Maybe you’ll grow to like it.” He certainly was.
“Doubt that.” But she smiled and edged ahead, leading the way. “Not much further.” Even if her image wasn’t already burned into him, he could find her through the thick, raucous crowds choking the streets. There weren’t many Argenti here, and her creamy white hair shone like a beacon in the grime and glare of Beskidt By. He felt the strange urge to shield her from the filth of both physical and human varieties—which was ridiculous. She was a scavenger, a dealer of stolen goods, and candidly admitted to doing what she had to in order to persevere.
She eyed the long, thin scarf he had wrapped around his neck before they had disembarked. “Do you have to wear that? Looks like your psychotic grandmother wove it on her digiloom.”
Kell fingered the garment in question. “It serves its purpose.”
“If that purpose is to cause spontaneous blindness, then I’d say it succeeded.” She stopped outside a singularly shabby door, covered in rust. It looked like it hadn’t been serviced in half a millennium. “This is the joint.”
He eyed the building dubiously. Still, she knew this world better than he did, so he nodded.
Mara stepped forward and pounded on the door. A small peephole slid open with a rasp. Two red-rimmed eyes stared back.
“Piss off,” snarled a gravelly voice.
“Stick your fist up your ass,” Mara returned.
“Skiren.”
“Yrjo.”
The red eyes glared at Kell. “What’s with tall, dark and menacing?”
“He’s with me.” When the owner of the red eyes didn’t answer right away, Mara said, “Come on, Yrjo. I’ve been coming here for years. If I say he’s with me, he’s with me. And he isn’t going to cause trouble.” This was said more for Kell’s benefit than the doorman.
“Much,” Kell added.
Mara shot him a glower, letting him know his commentary was not appreciated.
After a moment, the peephole shut. With an angry groan, the door slid open. Mara stepped inside, and, after checking the street one last time, Kell followed.
Inside, the red-eyed doorman continued to stare balefully at him. There was no doubt in his mind that the squat man had used the giant plasma shotgun strapped to his back. The weapon looked like it had been modded to cause maximum pain.
“Go on up,” the doorman grunted. He jerked his head toward an elevator bay.
The doors opened and Kell and Mara got on. At least the tech for the elevator was a little more up-to-date, only partially instead of completely rusted. The elevator shot up, whirring. He wondered
He counted himself amongst that number. Only half an hour earlier, he’d almost had her. His body still protested the loss. She’d been fire and spice and hungry, so hungry. He’d never touched a woman like her before. Now his body wanted, demanded more.
Don’t think about that now, or else you’ll be walking the streets of Beskidt By with a gigantic hard-on.
“You’re a popular character,” he noted after a one-armed woman shuffled out from a shop to pound Mara on the back.
“Yes.” She tossed the remark carelessly over her shoulder. “But now I’m legendary. Nobody else has flown through the storm.” She sent him an opaque glance. “Nobody else had the same kind of help.”
“There were two of us, but we worked as one.” Though Wraith ships could accommodate two—a pilot and a gunner—Kell usually flew alone. He hadn’t expected the seamless way he and Mara had performed together. She was a damned good pilot too. Intuitive but astute.
She also looked damned sexy with her hands on the ship’s controls. Kell couldn’t help but wonder if she might grip him with the same assured skill. An image flared in his mind—him laying back, her grasping his cock, positioning him to slide into her.
Don’t fucking think it.
“Partnership is new to me,” she said.
“Maybe you’ll grow to like it.” He certainly was.
“Doubt that.” But she smiled and edged ahead, leading the way. “Not much further.” Even if her image wasn’t already burned into him, he could find her through the thick, raucous crowds choking the streets. There weren’t many Argenti here, and her creamy white hair shone like a beacon in the grime and glare of Beskidt By. He felt the strange urge to shield her from the filth of both physical and human varieties—which was ridiculous. She was a scavenger, a dealer of stolen goods, and candidly admitted to doing what she had to in order to persevere.
She eyed the long, thin scarf he had wrapped around his neck before they had disembarked. “Do you have to wear that? Looks like your psychotic grandmother wove it on her digiloom.”
Kell fingered the garment in question. “It serves its purpose.”
“If that purpose is to cause spontaneous blindness, then I’d say it succeeded.” She stopped outside a singularly shabby door, covered in rust. It looked like it hadn’t been serviced in half a millennium. “This is the joint.”
He eyed the building dubiously. Still, she knew this world better than he did, so he nodded.
Mara stepped forward and pounded on the door. A small peephole slid open with a rasp. Two red-rimmed eyes stared back.
“Piss off,” snarled a gravelly voice.
“Stick your fist up your ass,” Mara returned.
“Skiren.”
“Yrjo.”
The red eyes glared at Kell. “What’s with tall, dark and menacing?”
“He’s with me.” When the owner of the red eyes didn’t answer right away, Mara said, “Come on, Yrjo. I’ve been coming here for years. If I say he’s with me, he’s with me. And he isn’t going to cause trouble.” This was said more for Kell’s benefit than the doorman.
“Much,” Kell added.
Mara shot him a glower, letting him know his commentary was not appreciated.
After a moment, the peephole shut. With an angry groan, the door slid open. Mara stepped inside, and, after checking the street one last time, Kell followed.
Inside, the red-eyed doorman continued to stare balefully at him. There was no doubt in his mind that the squat man had used the giant plasma shotgun strapped to his back. The weapon looked like it had been modded to cause maximum pain.
“Go on up,” the doorman grunted. He jerked his head toward an elevator bay.
The doors opened and Kell and Mara got on. At least the tech for the elevator was a little more up-to-date, only partially instead of completely rusted. The elevator shot up, whirring. He wondered
Similar Books
