Read Online No Mercy by Jenna McCormick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenna McCormick
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argue, and the vague notion that he was making some sort of noble sacrifice vanished. By rights they were her supplies; heâd kidnapped her, and he really wasnât entitled to anything. But she couldnât walk away and let him die.
Making quick work of the job, she repacked her own bag, strapped it to her shoulders. âIâll leave the parachute up, blocking the entrance. Though if the snow starts to melt, itâll probably draw attention to you.
âSnow tends to stick around here,â he said.
Quit stalling! Heâs not going to change his mind. No matter how much she might want it. âWell then, I guess this is good-bye.â
That dark, roguish stubble on his chin had grown scruffier. He scratched it idly, as though he didnât have a care in the cosmos. âLooks like it.â
She turned away, then half turned back. Over her shoulder she called, âIâm sorry about what happened to your wife.â
Not waiting for an answer, she set off through the tunnel to the mouth of the cave. Batting aside the parachute and some loose snow that fell on it, she ducked her head against the wind and set off.
She never had gotten the hang of a graceful exit.
7
W ithout Gia there offering him a distraction, Zan started to pace. Heâd done the right thing by both of them. If she was found, his father would have no way of knowing she was with him unless she brought it up, and she was too smart to do that. Being sold as an alien slave wasnât a pleasant fate by any means, but it was better than what his father would do to her if he discovered her connection with Zan or the Infinity Pool. And if Xander discovered him, Zan wouldnât mention the stinger pilot and hope she remained hidden.
The most disturbing thought circling through his head was that he was even concerned with the âright thing.â It wasnât his style to worry about anyoneâs skin but his own. But since heâd first come inside her heâd felt responsible for whatever happened to her. He hadnât experienced anything like it since . . .
He stopped in his tracks, shook his head. No. Not like Isabella. Gia was nothing like his wife in either appearance or temperament. She was a whirlwind to Izzyâs sweet oasis. His wife had been completely dependent on him, which had led to her ultimate downfall. His enemies had been hers, because she was his. Gia belonged to no one and could look out for herself. Heâd wager sheâd pissed off plenty of people just by running that mouth of hers, and yet she was still alive. Whatever feelings he was experiencing had more to do with his guilt than any kind of true connection.
Forget the fact that his body came alive when he touched hers, truly alive. Scents were stronger, colors brighter, sounds richer when they had sex. Sheâd dug up the passions heâd buried long ago, made him crave more than a biological release. Heâd been willing to spend whatever time he had left exploring their mutual pleasure. Why hadnât she?
Because she still hopes to live.
Even though sheâd seen the memories, she didnât get it. Didnât see how unstoppable his father was, how powerful or how far his reach extended.
He hoped she never did.
Stooping over the pool he stared at his reflection. The man looking back at him was a familiar stranger, an echo of the one heâd once been. Being in the Hosta System stripped away all his swagger, reduced him to the sniveling wimp from fifty years ago. His one act of defiance, a final fuck you to his father, would be the death of him, just as heâd always known it would.
A century was a good, long life. Better than most humans attained, and he didnât have to worry about aging organs and frail health. Heâd be fit and hearty with a raging libido to the end. Maybe it wasnât quite the destiny his father had promised him on the banks of the Infinity Pool, but heâd done things,
Making quick work of the job, she repacked her own bag, strapped it to her shoulders. âIâll leave the parachute up, blocking the entrance. Though if the snow starts to melt, itâll probably draw attention to you.
âSnow tends to stick around here,â he said.
Quit stalling! Heâs not going to change his mind. No matter how much she might want it. âWell then, I guess this is good-bye.â
That dark, roguish stubble on his chin had grown scruffier. He scratched it idly, as though he didnât have a care in the cosmos. âLooks like it.â
She turned away, then half turned back. Over her shoulder she called, âIâm sorry about what happened to your wife.â
Not waiting for an answer, she set off through the tunnel to the mouth of the cave. Batting aside the parachute and some loose snow that fell on it, she ducked her head against the wind and set off.
She never had gotten the hang of a graceful exit.
7
W ithout Gia there offering him a distraction, Zan started to pace. Heâd done the right thing by both of them. If she was found, his father would have no way of knowing she was with him unless she brought it up, and she was too smart to do that. Being sold as an alien slave wasnât a pleasant fate by any means, but it was better than what his father would do to her if he discovered her connection with Zan or the Infinity Pool. And if Xander discovered him, Zan wouldnât mention the stinger pilot and hope she remained hidden.
The most disturbing thought circling through his head was that he was even concerned with the âright thing.â It wasnât his style to worry about anyoneâs skin but his own. But since heâd first come inside her heâd felt responsible for whatever happened to her. He hadnât experienced anything like it since . . .
He stopped in his tracks, shook his head. No. Not like Isabella. Gia was nothing like his wife in either appearance or temperament. She was a whirlwind to Izzyâs sweet oasis. His wife had been completely dependent on him, which had led to her ultimate downfall. His enemies had been hers, because she was his. Gia belonged to no one and could look out for herself. Heâd wager sheâd pissed off plenty of people just by running that mouth of hers, and yet she was still alive. Whatever feelings he was experiencing had more to do with his guilt than any kind of true connection.
Forget the fact that his body came alive when he touched hers, truly alive. Scents were stronger, colors brighter, sounds richer when they had sex. Sheâd dug up the passions heâd buried long ago, made him crave more than a biological release. Heâd been willing to spend whatever time he had left exploring their mutual pleasure. Why hadnât she?
Because she still hopes to live.
Even though sheâd seen the memories, she didnât get it. Didnât see how unstoppable his father was, how powerful or how far his reach extended.
He hoped she never did.
Stooping over the pool he stared at his reflection. The man looking back at him was a familiar stranger, an echo of the one heâd once been. Being in the Hosta System stripped away all his swagger, reduced him to the sniveling wimp from fifty years ago. His one act of defiance, a final fuck you to his father, would be the death of him, just as heâd always known it would.
A century was a good, long life. Better than most humans attained, and he didnât have to worry about aging organs and frail health. Heâd be fit and hearty with a raging libido to the end. Maybe it wasnât quite the destiny his father had promised him on the banks of the Infinity Pool, but heâd done things,
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