The Alien Huntress Series Read online

  Both of us, I noticed, continually checked the mirrors, making sure we weren’t followed by anyone. The fewer who knew our business, the less chance there was of leaks.

  He told the car to park, grabbed the sack, and said, “We’ll eat now, then talk.”

  I caught the burrito he carelessly flung my way and ate what I could, but my appetite had yet to fully return. Plus, I preferred sweet, sugary foods. Always had. I often wondered what type of food grew on Raka, what I’d be eating if I was there.

  It was sad that I didn’t know much about my own people or my home planet. There simply weren’t many Rakans left here to ask, hunted as we were. Michael once hired a Rakan tutor for me, but that had lasted less than six months. The man had taken a day off and never returned.

  I knew the planet had two small suns, three large moons, and massive amounts of water. I knew there had never been a war, the crime rate was low, and the penalty for any crime was death. I knew the entire population was ruled by an iron-willed dictator and that many Rakans had left simply to escape him.

  Is that why my parents had left? I so would have loved to ask them. To know them. They’d been taken from me so suddenly. Singing me to sleep one minute, lying in pools of their own blood the next. Murdered. Obliterated. I missed them more than I could ever say.

  Leaning back in my seat, I waited patiently while Lucius consumed the thick, greasy wraps. He chewed slowly, sensually, like a man who savored every bite. I watched the way his mouth and throat moved in harmony, and unbidden images of him partaking of me invaded my mind. I forced my attention to the window.

  Apparently, he didn’t like my change of focus. “Let’s take a walk,” he said, throwing the last wrapper in the back seat with the others.

  We exited on our respective sides. Lush, green trees filled the entire area, providing a luxurious shade. I stashed my hat and sunglasses on the car’s dash. Fresh, vibrant air wrapped us in a welcome breeze. I’d traveled the world, many times, but I rarely experienced nature like this.

  The tranquil area surprised me. “New Dallas has been under a dry spell since EenLi and his men arrived. How is this glen possible?”

  “Michael keeps it well watered,” Lucius said, reaching my side.

  My eyes narrowed, and I experienced a spark of anger that Lucius knew something about my father that I didn’t…until I recalled that Michael had told me about buying a patch of land in New Dallas. I’d forgotten. He owned so much land. Now, if I could just get him to tell me about Lucius.

  “So what’s your real name, O man of many identities? I seriously doubt it’s Lucius.”

  “I have a lot of names,” he answered vaguely.

  We walked slowly, keeping pace beside each other, zigzagging through the thick trees and branches. Leaves and twigs snapped beneath our feet.

  “I realize that,” I said. “But I want to know your real name.”

  He glanced down at me. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

  “We’re alone, and there’s no chance of anyone listening in on our conversation. You can tell me.”

  “Maybe I only tell women I’ve seen naked.”

  “Is your name Bastard?” I fluttered my lashes at him.

  “Wrong.” A hint of amusement laced his tone. “Only two guesses left.”

  Frowning, I stopped and stomped my foot. When I realized what I had done, my frown intensified. I hated when I reverted to my old princess ways. “That wasn’t a true guess, so you can’t count it.”

  “Too bad,” he said, never slowing. “I am.”

  My frown became a scowl, and I jumped back into motion. “Forget it. Don’t tell me.”

  “I wasn’t going to. But now that I have your permission not to, I feel so much better,” he said, sarcasm dripping from each word.

  “You are such a jerk.”

  A teasing light sparkled in his eyes, softening his entire face. “My mother always told me women like mysterious men. If I tell you, I’ll lose my mystery.”

  “You have a mother?” I hadn’t meant the question to sound so shocked, but the words whipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  “Yes, I had a mother. I didn’t get much time with her, but she was very real. What, did you think I’d been spawned magically from fairy dust?”

  “No. I thought you’d been spawned magically from the devil.”

  He laughed, the sound rich and husky and so inherently sensual my blood warmed.

  “You read my file,” I said, “so you saw that I’m Eden F. Black. Tell me your real name, and I’ll tell you what the F. stands for.” I frowned again when I realized I was skirting around the need to beg him for the information. Why the hell did I even care about his name? I wondered. The answer eluded me, but the fact remained that I did care. I had to know.

  “That’d be a good bargain if I were even remotely interested in knowing your middle name.”

  My hands clenched at my sides as Lucius quickened his pace. He didn’t dart a glance behind him to see if I followed. After a moment, I did. I was too curious to wait behind and play games. Besides, I didn’t want him to know how much his lack of interest in my name bothered me.

  When I caught up, he said, “You ready to talk business?”

  “Always,” I ground out.

  “Jonathan Parker is old money, just like Sahara Rose said. I did a job here in New Dallas a few years ago. Jonathan’s brother was abducting other-worlder children, as well as human children, and forcing them to—perform with each other.”

  Our eyes met in a moment of unspoken understanding. Child pornography. I’d seen a lot of evil, but crimes committed against children always disgusted and infuriated me most. “You completed your job, I hope.” We both knew I was asking him if he’d killed the brother.

  “With relish,” he said. “Slowly and painfully.”

  “Good.” Very good.

  “The point is, only a few people—very few people, at that—are allowed into Jonathan’s life. We can capture him, but he won’t talk under torture. His brother didn’t. That means we have to gain his trust, get into his inner circle.”

  The catch in his tone warned me of impending ire on my part. I would have missed it, but I was extremely focused on everything about this man. “By we, you mean—”

  “Me. I’m already in.”

  Of course. Every muscle in my body clenched.

  “He knows me as Hunter Leonn,” Lucius said, “the wealthy, pampered son of a dead Onadyn smuggler.”

  “Hunter,” I said, playing the name across my tongue. “Cute. Nice irony. I also like the pampered part. You make a lovely spoiled little prince.” I jerked a hand down my ponytail. “So you want me to sit back and watch you do the job, I guess.”

  “No.” Moving his head left and right, he popped in the bones in his neck. When he spoke again, he broke down the situation like I was a child. “I go in as Hunter. You’ll go in after me as bait.”

  “Okay. So…who am I to become?”

  “Yourself. You’re a Raka, a rarity. Your people have been hunted for their skin and are now nearly extinct. We can’t change your identity. More than that, Michael is high-profile. Most believe he’s a wealthy weapons dealer, and too many people know you as his daughter.”

  “I’m with you.” Michael purposefully cultivated his image as a weapons dealer. After taking a job with the government, he’d needed a good cover, something that offered mass appeal to criminals and distanced him from his true identity. “Wait,” I said after a moment’s thought. “EenLi used to work for Michael. If I go in as myself, he’ll suspect I’m an agent. He’ll know Michael is protecting me.”

  “He won’t know about me, however, and that’s the important thing. From everything I’ve read on him, I think he’ll find it amusing to steal an agent.”

  “All right. I’m on board.”

  “Good. We’re going to spread the word that Eden Black is moving to New Dallas. You’re getting old, anyway, so you need a place of your own.”
/>   I sucked in a breath, the scent of sun, pine, and blooming flowers taunting me with their vibrant freshness. I glared up at him. A good motivation, yes, but not something I wanted to hear.

  “Actually, we’ll tell people you’re moving out to escape a stalker. Does that suit your vanity?”

  I punched his arm.

  “You’ve acted as an other-worlder interpreter for Michael in the past,” he said, rubbing the bruised muscle. “We’ll find out which high-powered humans are in need of an other-worlder interpreter. As their employee, you’ll have to attend parties and political functions, and that will put you in contact with Parker. And me. Your stalker.” He eyed me up and down, lingering on my breasts. “Think you can handle it?”

  A wave of awareness battled with a flood of irritation. I ignored his stupid question, already making a mental list of the things I needed to do. Rent an apartment here. Obtain a new wardrobe. Recondition my feet to high heels.

  “I’ll work my way back into Jonathan’s circle,” he said, “and mention that I met you, learned you were moving here, and followed. I’ll let him know that I wanted you, pursued you, but you turned me down.”

  “That won’t be difficult, since it’s the truth.”

  “Shut up and listen.” He glared at me. “You’ll begin attending all the parties, and I’ll play the lovesick fool.”

  I opened my mouth to offer another little gem: it was always best to stick to the truth, so we didn’t get caught in a lie. He cut me off with, “You’ll continue to rebuff me. Hard. I’ll grow more desperate.”

  “I see where this is leading,” I said. “After I turn you down, you’ll place an order for me.”

  “That’s right. Other men will probably want you too, if not Jonathan himself. Either way there will be an order placed for you, and you’ll be taken. All you have to do is let them take you.”

  I nodded my head in approval. “I like it. How are we going to proceed after that?”

  “I’ll buy you, whatever the cost, then purchase us passage to another planet, where I will claim that I can keep you without worrying about legalities.”

  “And once we know how they’re planet-hopping, we strike.”

  “Exactly. You’re going to need new clothes,” he said, giving me another intense perusal, a perusal that stripped away my clothes and devoured the naked body underneath. When his eyes reached my breasts, my nipples hardened. When they reached my stomach, my belly quivered. When they reached the apex of my thighs, a flood of warmth pooled there.

  “I’d already thought of that,” I said, my voice hoarse, dry. “I’m still known as Michael’s spoiled, reclusive daughter. I know how to dress the part.”

  “Good. Because a sophisticated interpreter would not wear”—he gestured to my scuffed leather pants and hiking boots—“whatever it is you’re wearing.”

  “Thank you for the fashion advice, Sparkie. I’ve always wanted a pierced, tattooed, bleached-out muscle boy to tell me how inept my fashion sense is.”

  His lips twitched. “Go to Michael. Tell him—”

  “I know what to do.” I arched a brow. “Can you say the same?”

  “Yes. Smart-ass. Like I said, I’m going to renew my acquaintance with Jonathan. Give me three weeks before you show up. But no later, you hear me? Three weeks.”

  I batted my lashes at him and walked my fingers across his chest. “Why, Lucius Adaire, aka Hunter Leonn and Bastard Extraordinaire. I do believe you’re going to miss me.”

  “No, baby doll, but you’re going to miss me.”

  With no more warning than that, he jerked me into the hardness of his body, his lips instantly slanting over mine. His tongue thrust into my mouth, deep and probing. I moaned at the pleasure of it, at the heady flavor of him, and sank deeper into his embrace. I didn’t protest, though I knew I should have. No, I tangled my tongue with his. My teeth banged into his. I gripped his head and held him to me. I think I had wanted this since the first time I saw him.

  His arms felt like steel bands as they wrapped around me. His palms splayed out over my back and dipped lower…and lower…cupping my butt and pressing me into his erection. I spread my legs for better contact. Even through his clothing I could feel the long length of him, the thickness.

  I’d never craved a man like I craved him. You don’t like him, remember?

  So what, my body responded. I’d have him and get him out of my system. Out of my mind.

  The fragrance of honey and flowers seeped from me, surrounding us as surely as the trees, billowing sweetly in the wind. I didn’t panic at the telltale sign this time. I welcomed it. The intoxicating scent blended with the pine soap scent of Lucius, creating an intoxicating aphrodisiac.

  With his hands still cupping me, he lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he backed me up against a thick tree trunk. The bark bit past my shirt, but I didn’t care.

  “You’ve been driving me crazy, cookie.” His voice whispered huskily along the column of my neck, making the nickname sound like an endearment.

  I didn’t comment. I was incapable of speech. All I could think about was stripping him naked and impaling myself on him. Riding him hard and fast. And often.

  “It’s that mouth of yours,” he continued. He nipped at my jaw, ran his teeth along my earlobe. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I hate it. I should hate it.”

  As I panted, I forced myself to find my voice. “Do you like my mouth better when it tells you to kiss me again?” I said rawly. “When it tells you to take off your clothes because I want to see you naked?”

  He groaned.

  My nipples pebbled, and I rubbed them against his chest, wishing we were already naked, wishing he was already inside me. It wasn’t him I needed, I assured myself. Just sex. Only sex.

  Instead of stripping me, he whipped away from me. My legs dropped to the ground. “Damn it,” he growled, tangling a hand in his hair. “This isn’t the time or place.”

  Several seconds passed before I found my equilibrium. When I did, his rejection nearly gouged me. More than his rejection, however, I resented his ability to stop what he’d started when I would have eagerly gone the rest of the way. Even though he was right. We both had jobs to do, and getting sexually involved right now was foolish.

  My eyes narrowed as fury rained through my blood, fury with myself for allowing him to distract me. “Touch me again, and Michael will have one less employee. Do you understand?”

  Lucius remained silent for a long while, watching me, studying my face. Obviously, he didn’t like my threat. Very deliberately, he reached out and palmed one of my breasts, tracing his fingertips around the nipple.

  I didn’t stop him, but I wouldn’t back down or show weakness.

  “Why?” he said, his eyes slitting to match mine. “You fear you’ll die from pleasure?”

  “No. You’ll die. And not from pleasure. See, I’ll take this knife,” I patted the blade strapped next to his pride and joy, “and play a little pocket pool.”

  He disengaged from me completely and frowned. The lines around his mouth went taut, and a fire kindled in his usually arctic eyes. “That’s the second threat you’ve made against my dick.”

  “Threat?” I laughed, the sound hollow. “Oh, no, Sparkie. It’s a promise. And will be a pleasure.”

  “Just so long as you’ll play with it, I guess I don’t care what you do. But you’ll have to be patient and wait until after the mission.”

  My hand twitched with the urge to blacken his eye. Maybe break his nose. “I usually don’t have a temper,” I said, “but you push me past every boundary.”

  “Two weeks,” he said gutturally, as if I’d never spoken. “I want you back here in two weeks.”

  “You said three earlier.”

  “Two weeks,” he repeated. “Or I’ll hunt you down, and we’ll finish this.”

  Threat or promise?

  God help me, but I foolishly hoped the latter.

  Chapter

  7
r />   Sharp, agonizing pain consumed me.

  My body tensed against the assault it was even now enduring. Oh, God. I’d survived the extraction of copper bullets. I’d survived grenade blasts and C4 explosions. But this…

  The pain was too sharp, too acute, spreading from one section of my body to another.

  Fists clenched, eyes squeezed shut, I screamed, emitting a raspy sound more animal than human. My throat had already endured several similar screams in the past half-hour and now felt raw, aching.

  If only my knives were nearby. My guns. Anything! But I was unarmed. I lay on a flat, white table, gripping the edges. I was vulnerable, exposed.

  “I’m ready to do the other leg,” the woman responsible for my torment said. The diabolical, evil devil incarnate herself: the esthetician.

  “No,” I gritted out. “Like hell you are.” Years ago, I’d had this done every month. I’d worn nothing but designer clothes, had always looked expensive and sophisticated. What a lifetime ago that seemed. “Getting one leg waxed was bad enough. You’re not touching my other leg.”

  “Big baby,” she mumbled, gathering her supplies. Long blond hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing a delicate, elfin face. She was a wisp of a woman, just under five feet, with fragile bones and a tiny frame. Her angel face hid the beast inside.

  I could snap her neck like a twig—and laugh joyously while doing so. Over the years I’d killed more people than I could count. Big baby? Me? I don’t think so.

  “Better be careful what you say to me, sweetheart,” I warned. Before she could respond, however, I added darkly, “Just do it. Finish. And hurry.”

  My tormentor’s rose-petal mouth twitched. If the bad guys learned about waxing, they’d be able to take torture to a whole new level.

  “I expected more from you,” she said with a chuckle, applying warm, oozing, sticky wax to my right leg.

  In the wake of laser treatments and follicle-killing creams, waxing had become obsolete for humans long ago. Unfortunately, such treatments permanently damaged Raka skin cells, forcing me to revert to these archaic practices.