Enslave Me Sweetly

Chapter 2

I was floating.

No, not floating, I realized a second later. Strong male arms cradled me tightly, securely. The scent of pine and man wafted to my nostrils, and male strength radiated all around me. Someone was carrying me. Who? Why? A thick, smoky cloud blanketed and scattered my thoughts, keeping the answers just beyond my grasp.

“Is she going to make it?” someone asked. I recognized the broken, concerned voice. Michael, my boss. My father.

“Don’t know,” a second man said. I didn’t recognize his voice at all. The timbre was deeper, more raw than any I’d ever heard before. So distant, so uncaring. “She’s lost a lot of blood.”

Both voices seemed to drift from a dream, surreal and remote. Which man held me? My father or the stranger? Whoever it was, he emitted a kind of heat far different from any I’d ever encountered before. His warmth seeped into me, as soothing and gentle as a lullaby.

“We need to cut these clothes off her,” the stranger said. “Get her out of the mask so she can breathe.”

“Wait till we get her in the car.” Michael’s tone broke further, was more hurried. He always freaked when I was injured. Even the smallest scratch undid him.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. I didn’t know, didn’t care. Time had long since become immeasurable. All I had was the solid embrace of my rescuer, but even that was soon denied me as my body was eased to the cool ground. Hands tugged and ripped my clothing, causing my wounds to throb. I gasped as air kissed my bare skin. In the next instant, the mask was jerked from my face.

Someone sucked in a breath, and it wasn’t me. Then…silence.

“Shit,” the stranger exhaled, his tone laced with…awe?

Fingers coasted gently over my cheekbone, then through my hair, comforting and soft. Sleep…I’d sleep a little longer. I’d missed EenLi. I’d failed.

Over and over, those words echoed in my mind.

I’d missed EenLi. I’d failed.

His smug face drifted into my thoughts, shimmering just beyond my consciousness. I reached for a pyre-gun, but managed to grab cool, soft sheets instead. The events in the warehouse flashed, playing out like an old video. The gunshots. The blood. The blinding pain. Is that why I felt so empty and hollow, like a nocturnal phantom whisking from cloud to cloud?

EenLi’s image wavered, then disappeared. I raced after him, but my limbs were suspended in motion, and I remained in place. He laughed. The sound taunted me.

You’re a failure, Eden. A failure. I’d had one job. Just one. And he had walked away from me without a single scratch.

When aliens first arrived so many years ago, humans had tried to destroy them all. They almost destroyed themselves instead, or so I’ve been told. To survive, a sort of peace was reached between the different races on the condition that agents be allowed to kill predatory other-worlders. My target had been predatory, no doubt about it. I should have destroyed him, but I’d let him get away.

Failure, failure. Failure. The word rang in my head and jarred me awake. My eyelids popped open. A gasp lodged in my throat. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

I lay still for several moments, trying to calm my racing heartbeat. Shadows enveloped me. No, wait. Small streams of moonlight danced from the window, revealing a lacy canopy and high, vaulted ceiling. Where was I? I struggled to turn my head, to scan the rest of my surroundings, but my muscles refused to obey, keeping me in the same chin-up position. Using all of my energy, I tried again.

Still nothing.

What was going on? Why couldn’t I move? Sparks of panic lit inside me but were quickly extinguished by confusion. I heard the beep-beep of…something. Smelled the sharp tang of antiseptic. On a wave of relief, my shoulders sagged into the softness of the mattress beneath me. A hospital. I must be in a hospital.

Relaxed now, I licked my lips, realizing my mouth felt dry and cottony. Thirsty. I was so thirsty. My tongue flicked out, moistening my parched lips. “Thirsty,” I croaked out.

No one was there. No one could hear me.

“Thirsty,” I gasped again.

Perhaps a heartbeat later, a man stood beside my bed. I couldn’t make out his features, only that he was tall and muscular. A drugging warmth radiated from him and slid along my body. I wanted to turn toward him, sink into him. Inside him. I shivered.

“Where’s Michael?” I asked.

“Sleeping. Finally. Here,” he said, his deep, raw voice familiar to me. He held a cup and straw to me.

I drank deeply, the cool, sweet liquid flowing down my throat. Never had anything tasted so wondrous.

“That’s enough,” he said and tugged the straw from my mouth. “Sleep now.”

A direct order. His tone left no room for argument. Usually I didn’t respond well to that type of “do what I say or suffer the consequences” command. This time, however, I was too tired to argue.

I closed my eyes. The last thought to drift through my mind was, I’ll instruct that man on how best to speak to me tomorrow.

“Wake up.”

The strong, determined voice prodded at me relentlessly.

“Wake up.”

A callused hand shook me, working in sync with the voice. Evil. They were both evil and deserved to die a horrible death.

“Wake up, sweetie.”

I attempted to roll over and bury my head in my pillow, but my sore, tired limbs resisted. That caught my attention in a way nothing else could have. I jerked at my arm. Nothing. I kicked out my leg. Nothing. Panic rushed through me, and I struggled to open my eyes.

“That’s my girl,” the man said, relief heavy in his tone.

Stark white light pounded into the room, its unwelcome fists leaving nothing untouched. Too bright, I thought, squinting, still struggling. But slowly, very slowly, my eyes adjusted. My gaze locked on the glowing restraints that bound me, on the plain white T-shirt I wore and the white silk sheet that covered my lower half. Then I narrowed my gaze on my uninvited guest. Michael Black. My boss. My adopted father.

The panic dissipated completely, leaving me weak, and I settled back into the auto-adjust mattress, my spine stiff with anger.

Every line of Michael’s weathered face was etched with concern, from his piercing hazel eyes to his broad, unsmiling mouth. His graying hair, usually styled perfectly, fell in disarray around his temples, and his expensive suit possessed more wrinkles than a Genesi.

“Why am I banded?” I asked, my vocal cords hoarse. Bands were stronger than handcuffs and could not be removed without severing an appendage. They bonded to alien skin, locking the prisoner in place.

“You were thrashing uncontrollably, which kept opening your wounds.”

“Unband me. Now.” I gave the order, making sure there were no emotions in my tone. I would not show weakness. Not to this man who seemed to have no weaknesses himself. But Michael knew me better than anyone, and he knew I didn’t like the feeling of helplessness. I never had. Besides, I doubted I had the strength to move upon threat of death, so the bonds were unnecessary.

He did as I requested, pressing an ID button and causing the lasers to unwind from my skin. He settled back into the plush azure chair beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” I said, surprised that I meant it. Except for a sense of weakness, fragility, and the dull ache in my side, I remained mostly unscathed. “Thirsty, though. Will you get me some sugar water?”

A cup was perched on the nightstand, and he handed it to me. I downed the cool, sweet contents and closed my eyes in surrender. Sugar acts as a revitalizing agent for my kind. Though there aren’t many Rakas left, the ones that are here are probably responsible for consuming three-fourths of the earth’s annual sugar crop.

“That copper really worked you over,” he said.

“It always does.” I scanned the room. Thick crimson and navy carpet adorned the floor, and several imperial gold floor lamps climbed toward the arched ceiling. There were three open windows, the holographic shade turned off. The walls boasted bronze stucco and ornately carved, gilded mirrors. Obviously, this was not a hospital. Even my coverlet shouted wealth. Soft emerald velvet and white silk sheets surrounded my skin in a delicious cocoon.

“Where am I?” I asked.

“My house.”

That told me nothing. The man owned thirteen estates all over the world. “Which one?”

“New Mexico. Closest one to New Dallas.”

“You redecorated since I was last here.”

He nodded.

I arched a brow. “Would you care to tell me why I’m here instead of a hospital?” There were special hospitals specifically designed for agents like me: paid killers, as well as alien. I’d been a patient numerous times.

“One, you were delirious and I didn’t want anyone to hear the things that you were saying. You were moaning and groaning about your failure with EenLi. I want everyone to think you let him go on purpose. Two, I didn’t want your name on record as having received gunshot wounds. And three, I didn’t want anyone else brought in on this case.”

Though I was glad, I sighed deeply. I would have liked him to be able to sit back and simply bask in my success, no interference required. “Playing my protector again, Michael?”

He shrugged, but glanced away. “Actually,my boss thinks this situation works out for the best. EenLi used to work as an agent, and he—”

“What?” I blinked. Surely I had misheard.

“EenLi used to work as an agent. For me, specifically.”

I tried not to gape. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

He shrugged again, the action stiffer, more clipped. “He was supposed to be an in-and-out job. I tell you what you need to know, and that was something you didn’t need to know.”

“A target’s training is a need to know. He probably knew he was being watched the entire time.”

“I doubt that,” he said. “He was an okay agent. Good at finding people, which is why we kept him on, but not much else. He was too emotional, had too many vices. I guess that’s why he decided to make more money selling slaves. End of story.”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment. “So why is your boss glad he escaped?”

“The government now wants to know where those portals are, and they think EenLi will lead the way.” Michael leaned back in his chair, watching me. “They’ve decided they don’t want him dead until they know.”

“I followed him for weeks. He never revealed a single portal’s location.”

“Orders are orders. He lives until he divulges how he’s planet-traveling.”

What if EenLi never gave the information they wanted? Did that mean the murdering criminal would get to live a long, happy life? I didn’t voice my questions, though. Michael knew how I felt about law breakers. My gaze traveled the length of my T-shirt-and-sheet-clad body. I looked thinner. “How long have I been here?”

“Thirteen days, six hours, forty-eight minutes.” He propped his expensive Italian loafers on the cherry wood nightstand. “I had everything you needed brought here.”

“Even a doctor?” That would have totally defeated the purpose of keeping me here, out of the government’s watchful eye.

“No,” he said hesitantly.

I arched a brow. “Who patched me up?”

“Lucius Adaire.”

“That tells me nothing. Who is he?”

“A man. A human.”

My curiosity grew about this Lucius Adaire, and I studied Michael. Just the mention of this mystery man had caused the easy line of his posture to stiffen and a glimpse of uneasiness to enter his eyes.

Michael had seen the worst life had to offer—he’d even caused some of it—so he rarely became uneasy. Why now?

“Tell me about him,” I prompted.

“In a minute,” he said. He picked a piece of invisible lint off of his pants. “You remember anything else about that night in the warehouse?”

The job came first, always. I didn’t try to keep the conversation on my mysterious doctor. I centered my thoughts and replayed every minute I’d spent in that warehouse through my head. Then I leveled my gaze at Michael. “EenLi said a portal was going to open in a day. That day has already passed, of course, but that means the portals aren’t always open, that he can only send his cattle, as he calls them, through on certain days.”

“What opens them?”

“He never said.”

Michael scowled. “Damn, we can’t seem to catch a break. After I picked you up, I sent a group of men to the Pit. It was empty, top and bottom. There were cells underneath, but no one was in them.”

My stomach knotted, and I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Was there evidence of recent use?”

“Makeshift toilets that hadn’t been emptied. Manacles with dried blood—which we analyzed and cross-referenced with the victims’ blood types. Every drop had an exact match.”

“What about Sahara Rose?”

“Gone, her house abandoned. She packed in a hurry, that much was obvious.”

“Wonderful,” I muttered, almost afraid to ask my next question. But I had to. I needed all the facts. “What about the human woman at the warehouse? The survivor?”

Leaning back, he rested his hands behind his head and gazed up at the ceiling. His lips pressed tightly together as a long, protracted silence enveloped us. “You don’t want to know,” he said softly.

I pushed out a breath and shook my head in disgust—disgust with myself. With EenLi. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Michael nodded, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Her wounds were too extensive. She died before we got there.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and fought back a razor-sharp crest of regret. “What was her name?”

“Don’t torture yourself this way. You did what you could.”

“What was her name?” I insisted.

“Amy,” he supplied, reluctance heavy in his tone. “Amy Evens.”

Amy Evens. She’d been young, probably no more than twenty-five, with pretty blond hair and wide blue eyes. Like every young woman, she’d probably dreamed of love and a happily ever after, yet she’d been raped, abused, and had died alone.

My disgust and hate for EenLi grew in intensity, but most of all, my disgust for myself grew. I was to protect the innocent; that was part of my job. I closed my eyes, hoping to block the images hovering there, images of both women alive and chained to the wall, neither knowing Death had knocked on her door. I’d failed in every way there was to fail. I had failed to kill my target; I hadn’t even managed to save one human life.

These wounds of mine…I deserved every one of them and more. A resolution to make it right solidified within me. “What do we do now?” I asked, once again facing Michael.

“My guess is EenLi’s still in New Dallas, putting together another crew. I want you to go there, find him, find those damn portals, and finish your job.”

A moment passed before his words sunk deep enough inside me that I was able to respond. Shocked, I said, “You’re letting me have another shot?”

“You know his MO better than anyone. You know his habits; you’ve studied him. Plus, I know you. You’ll want a chance to fix this, and I love you enough that I want to give it to you.”

“I—” I pressed my lips together. The fact that Michael trusted me enough to right my wrongs propelled a thrill of pride and happiness through me, and I had trouble finding the words to express my gratitude. I guess I’d assumed his protective instincts would surface, and he would command me to stay behind.

I truly loved this man.

“Do you think any of your agents are secretly working with EenLi?” I asked. “That would explain how EenLi knew to trade places with Mris-ste.”

“I already have a man on it, so don’t worry about it.”

I nodded. “Thank you for giving me another chance,” I said, allowing all of my appreciation to seep through my voice. “I know I don’t deserve it. I’m not going to let you down.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said wryly. “You’ll be working with a partner.”

What? “Absolutely not.” Shock quickly replaced all of my happiness, and I jolted upright, winced, and glared over at him. “I work alone. Always.”

“Not this time,” he said, resolute. Final.

“I’m perfectly capable of finding the portals and killing EenLi on my own.” I needed to do it on my own. I couldn’t allow someone else to fix what I had created.

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared over at me. “Then why isn’t he dead?”

That was entirely beside the point—even though he was right. “I will not work with one of your agents.”

“Yes,” he said calmly, assuredly, “you will. Lucius,” he called without removing his gaze from me. “Come meet your new partner.”

As if the man had been standing behind the entrance, guarding it, the thick metal doors instantly slid open. He strode stealthily inside, not emitting a single noise: not the swish of clothing, the plod of footsteps, or the rhythm of breath. He was as human as Michael, but where my boss was lean, this man was solid muscle. Where Michael was average height, this man was tall. Where Michael was aging, this man was all vitality.

He stopped at the foot of my bed. The scent of pine soap and sheer maleness wafted from him. He wasn’t near enough to touch, but I could feel the warmth of his skin, beckoning me, lulling me. That warmth, that scent…I recognized them. A moment passed, and I sucked in a breath.

He was the one who had carried me. He was the one who had given me sugar water last night.He was the one who had stripped away my clothing. My stomach knotted at the thought of his hands on me, undressing me, seeing my naked flesh. A shiver of awareness fired down my spine.

His lips were soft and lush, as pink as flower petals. The rest of his features, however, were granite hard, boasting deliciously rough planes and harsh angles. Cheekbones carved from stone. A nose sculpted from steel. Black eyebrows slashed over his eyes, eyes so blue they could only have been created from ice chips, regarding the world with an I’ve-seen-it-all acerbity. Right now those eyes bore down at me, into me.

He wore a tight black T-shirt, the same inky color as his chopped hair and form-fitting jeans. Simply standing there, he exuded a masculine intensity that shouted, I’ll fuck you or kill you—take your pick.

I suddenly felt vulnerable. Exposed. It didn’t matter that I was covered by clothes and a sheet. I was lying in a bed; I was injured. And he knew what I looked like naked. More than that, I was not operating at full strength and probably resembled a sick tabby kitten, mussed and disheveled.

I forced a cool facade, hoping I exuded regal composure. I didn’t know this man, and I didn’t want him seeing me as anything less than controlled.

“Have you ever killed anyone, Sparkie?” I asked, hoping to put him on the defensive. He’d take over if I let him.

Not a glimmer of emotion lit his features. He remained in place, silent, unconcerned. Distant.

With a conscious effort, I tore my gaze from him and attempted to ignore his very existence. “I don’t need or want a partner,” I told Michael.

“Tough,” he said, his expression hard.

“I work alone,” I said again, my tone colder than ever before. I was surprised ice chips didn’t form from my breath.

“Not anymore,” he replied again.

“I will not—”

“Your protests will change nothing, sweetie. I want you to work with Lucius, and so you will. That’s an order.”

“He’ll get in my way.”

“He knows what he’s doing.”

“I doubt that. Men like him are all brawn and no brain. How can I do my job if I have to watch his back too?”

The man finally deigned to speak.

“Listen, cookie,” he said, his voice rough, low, as if his vocal cords had once been damaged. “The day I need you to save my ass is the day I’ll find myself a new job. Maybe cloning flowers. Maybe walking robotic dogs. I’ll decide when the time comes. Until then, you take care of yourself, and I’ll take care of me.”

With that, he exited the room as quickly and silently as he’d entered.

The moment the door clicked shut, I pinned Michael with a fierce stare. “Did he just call me ‘cookie’?”

Michael’s lips twitched, and amusement turned his hazel eyes to a bright, vivid green. “You deserved it after that ‘all brawn and no brain’ crack.”

“How can you expect me to work with that man?”

The twitching became a full-blown smile. “Consider it penance for your sins.”

I didn’t let his amusement soften me, though I did love to see him happy. “I’ll tell you one more time, Michael. I don’t need a partner.” Let me do this, I silently beseeched.

Something deep and dark flashed across his features. “You’ll work with him, or you’ll work for another agency. Understand?”

He meant it. Michael never threatened. Only promised. And with it put like that, I couldn’t refuse. I nodded stiffly. My hands fisted at my sides, but resolve slowly moved through me. “Can he do anything besides look pretty?” And tough.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

“That’s comforting, Michael. Very comforting.” I knew Michael, knew when he was turning stubborn. Anything I learned about Lucius, I’d have to learn on my own.

He sighed. “If you’re on edge with him, you’re less likely to make mistakes with him.”

How wonderful to hand out little gems of wisdom at a time like this. Thanks. For nothing. “Any other bits of ingenious ramblings you want to toss my way before I kick you out and get some rest?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. He always liked when I reverted to my old spoiled-princess ways. “I want you operating at full capacity in three days. Otherwise, I’ll let Lucius have the mission all to himself.”

He left me alone then. With his parting words, he had sealed my fate. I’d be back in fighting shape within two days and not a moment more. Whether it was feminine pride or simple arrogance, I would not let Lucius have this mission for himself.

I still had something to prove. More now than ever.

I would not be a failure. Not again.

“‘Cookie,’ my ass,” I muttered.