Beyond Shame (8 page)

He guided her around a cart piled high with bolts of fabric. "Then...maybe, yeah. For Lex's benefit. Or for mine."

Warmth kindled in her belly. "I'd rather it be for your benefit than because he hates my father. Not that I'd blame him. My father is easy to hate."

Jasper snorted. "I'm not saying it's impossible that he's thought of something like that, but it's not really who Dallas is. Not when you get right down to it."

"He's intimidating," she admitted. "He comes across as relaxed, easy and laid-back. But still dangerous. Even when he smiles, he makes me nervous."

Jasper drew her to a stop, grasped her shoulders, and turned her to face him. "There isn't anyone in Dallas's gang who
isn't
dangerous, sweetheart. Him, Lex, Rachel...even me."

"Rachel?" The pretty blonde waitress was no more threatening than Noelle herself.

He ignored the question. "Even you," he murmured softly. "You need it to live out here, or you die, one way or another. Dallas sees that danger in you too, or he'd have sent you packing already."

Even more ludicrous. "The only reason I'm still alive is you."

"Because you don't know how to survive out here. Once you learn, you'll do anything you have to do." He sounded certain.

It made her feel certain too. "Will you help me learn?"

"Yep." He grinned and pointed her at the cluster of carts and ramshackle booths that lined the street as it began to widen. "First lesson. Never pay anyone what they ask right away. They'll rob you blind."

The market. It looked nothing like the high-end shops she usually patronized. The area directly in front of them was devoted mostly to carts full of clothing. Bright fabrics hung from ropes strung between buildings, swaying in the early morning breeze. More items lay stacked on carts or in front of makeshift tents.

Noelle caught her reflection in a tarnished mirror and almost laughed at her own wide, delighted eyes. Her expression matched the feeling in her chest, light and excited. "I get to barter?" It was like something out of a history text.

He chuckled. "Coming to an agreement about price is called haggling. Bartering is trading. We're paying cash."

Haggling. She made a mental note and returned his grin. "
I'm
paying cash. My own cash. That's Lex's first rule."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"You can still help me pick out something to wear to Dallas's next party." It was the closest thing to suggestive she could manage, and some part of her braced in anticipation of a brush-off or a quiet rejection.

He moved his hand, curling it around her hip as his smile faded into something darker. Hotter. "Too long to wait. There's a thing tomorrow night. You can come watch me fight."

She couldn't concentrate on his words when his fingers stretched almost to the small of her back. She felt tiny under his hands. Powerless, vulnerable—two states that were familiar, but they'd never heated her blood like this before.

She wet her lips because she liked the way his gaze followed her tongue. "What should I wear?"

He glanced around, then nodded to a booth draped with displays of leather—belts, bracers, even corsets. "Stuart does quality work."

Stuart's booth looked like Lex's closet, though Noelle had seen enough custom tailoring to know most of the other woman's outfits had been made specifically for her. None of the designs on display were familiar, but one corset drew her closer. Smooth, supple leather with laces across a neckline that swooped halfway down the body and little cap sleeves held together by demure black bows. It was dangerous and sweet at the same time, and she stroked a finger over the leather and imagined her breasts behind those laces. Caged, on display but trapped, desperate to spill free.

Just like she felt. "This one. I want this one."

The man behind the makeshift counter squinted as he eyed her. "It's handmade. Ain't cheap."

"I recognize quality craftsmanship." She recognized the look he was giving her too. Her borrowed clothes weren't expensive enough to be worth his consideration. She imagined Jasper's presence was the only thing keeping him from sneering. "You make clothes for Lex, don't you? The style's very similar."

He grunted in assent, his gaze flicking to Jasper. "You a friend of hers, girl?"

"I like to think so. I've been borrowing her clothes, but I need to purchase some of my own."

"We could make a deal, I bet. Cash or trade?"

Her moment of confidence wavered. With Jasper at her back, she'd felt safe enough to pretend he was just another merchant, but her knowledge of navigating expensive, sneering shops ended at the city walls. She didn't know the value of cash or how many crumpled bills compared to the intangible credits she no longer had access to.

The man stared at her as if every moment of silence cemented his original assessment, and she had to say
something
. "Cash."

Jasper laid a hand on her shoulder. "This is Noelle. She's the newest O'Kane."

Stuart cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah, okay. No problem."

Amazing, how smoothly the transaction went after that. Stuart indicated a price that would have been a steal in credits, but Jasper's tiny headshake encouraged her to counter. Stuart accepted her offer without a murmur, and Noelle peeled the correct amount off the roll of bills in her pocket with mixed feelings.

She could believe that tangible cash held a higher value than credits, which could disappear with a flash of electricity. Less credible was the notion that Stuart would have accepted her counteroffer so willingly without Jasper looming behind her, his arms a walking advertisement for the O'Kanes.

Her independence was as dubious as the respect she'd been given in Eden as a councilman's daughter, a fabrication based on fear and someone else's power. But if she took O'Kane ink, those tattoos would curl around her wrists too. Still borrowed power, but power she'd earned by finding a place.

A shameful place, according to everything she'd ever learned. A degrading place. But something inside her hungered for the sin.

And now, watching men eye Jasper with wary concern and respect, she hungered for his power, too, even if it was only reflected on her. She'd have to give up everything to belong to him—her secrets, her body, her shame.

It might all be worth it if he could set her free.

Chapter Six

Ace had finished the outline already, and Jasper winced as soon as his friend turned away to switch out his equipment. "Are you off your game today? This hurts like hell."

"Is that the tattoo or your balls?"

"My balls are fine. Wanna check?"

Ace made an amused noise. "No, thanks. Unlike you, I was smart enough to get a ride or two last night."

"And who said I wasn't?" Noelle wasn't ready for it, not remotely—after spending the morning with her, he was more sure of that than ever—but she didn't have his dick on a chain, either.

"Dom." Ace swiped his shoulder and set the needle against skin. "He's talking shit to anyone who'll listen."

Dom was a mean motherfucker who had the brawn but not the brains to rise up as one of Dallas's more trusted men, and it ate at him like a cancer. "He talks a lot of shit about a lot of stuff." Jasper paused. "What's he saying?"

"That you've got a limp dick and no spine. Bastard's just pissed because the girls cut him off. Which is what happens if you don't bother to make sure they have a good time."

Limp dick, no spine—meaningless, unimaginative words, easy to brush aside. But while Dom posed no threat to Jasper, that didn't mean he wouldn't apply himself wholeheartedly to harassing Noelle. "If he has such a beef with me, we should hash it out in the cage."

Ace snorted. "Do it. Make everyone's night."

No. He wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of answering his cowardly challenge, but if Dom came at
him
, spoiling for a fight, he'd get one. "Everyone going to the warehouse tonight?"

"Probably, as long as nothing goes down with Sector Three. I'm hitting my stops early tonight." Ace moved the shader to a new spot.

Jasper clenched his jaw as fresh pain welled. He could handle getting punched in the head better than he could handle these damn needles sometimes. "You need backup?"

"Nah. Bren's coming with me."

"The two of you aren't likely to run into trouble." Jasper bared his teeth. "Unless you want to. We can take Dom along, settle things nice and uncivilized in an alley. Who'd miss him?"

Ace grinned. "Not even his mama."

Another time—and with a little more reason. Jasper glanced down at the red heart emerging on his chest. "Make it bloodier. Truth in advertising."

"Yeah, you and your bleeding heart." His friend sounded amused. "What's next? Gonna rescue some kittens?"

A foregone conclusion, apparently, that he'd mark Noelle. A done deal. "She was horrified last night. Would you saddle yourself with an old lady who's ashamed of fucking?"

Ace choked on a laugh. "Shame I'll give you, brother, but the only thing that girl's horrified by is how much she gets off on being a bad little girl. If you don't want her, I'll spank the
shame
right out of her." He paused for a moment. "Or maybe I'll watch Lex do it."

If Jasper could be sure that Noelle was only struggling with the novelty of exploring her sexuality, he'd mark her. "Maybe it's just new. We'll see. And I
do
plan to see."

"Is that your way of telling me to keep my dick out of her?"

"It's my way of saying tread lightly." Jasper lifted an eyebrow. "Some of 'em aren't quick fucks unless you push them, and she doesn't need to be pushed."

"Bleeding fucking heart," Ace muttered, returning his attention to the tattoo. "You know, her father's directly responsible for making our lives hell. Has it occurred to you that's the real reason Dallas is keeping her around? You might not want to get too attached."

For information, perhaps. Anything more sinister and Lex would kill him—and Dallas knew it. "Or it's all the more reason for me to look out for her."

The lights above them flickered, and Ace bit off a curse. "I think the back generator's acting up again. Need to get a grease monkey out here to look at it."

"That'll take forever. Have Rachel knock off her shift early and check it out."

"Rachel can't stand the sight of my face. Maybe you should ask."

Jasper sighed. "You wouldn't have this problem if you weren't such a fucking
jerk
."

Ace seemed unperturbed. "Could be worse. I could be Dom."

"Barely worse."

"That's the blue balls talking."

"Shithead." Jasper stretched his neck, trying to ease a little of the trapped feeling he always got sitting in the chair too long. "Make sure you put healing gel on the tat. Maybe I'll go out with you and Bren tonight before the fights, after all. Clear my head."

"Hey, man, if you want to. We've got liquor deliveries to make to those dives west of the market district, and then we need to collect protection money from the brothel."

Work. A task that could consume his attention as well as anything else. "I'm in."

Ace swiped at Jasper's chest again and paused to consider the bleeding heart taking shape there. "I still have to fill in your princess's bar code. Think she's going to faint on me?"

Jasper remembered her skin heating under his hand the night before, how soaking wet her pussy had been after one smack on the ass. She'd liked having her hair pulled, liked the commands as much as the touches and tongues.

Did she get off on other kinds of pain too? Would having the needles thrust into her delicate skin over and over get her as hot? He could picture the black vinyl seat, slick and shiny with the evidence of her unbearable arousal. They'd have to strap her down to stop her squirming, but once they had, he could put his face between her thighs, fuck her with his tongue while Ace obliterated the bar code, her last link to the city that hadn't wanted her.

He
wanted her.

"I'll bring her in," he muttered. Better he be there—just in case.

Three days outside Eden, and her old life seemed like a dream.

Noelle leaned against the bar and watched Rachel swirl alcohol into a shot glass, the other woman's movements practiced and effortless. The scent of liquor was amazing, sharp and heady. Every moment in the sectors was so
real
, gritty and hard, smashing into her numbed senses. She'd eaten at the most expensive restaurants in Eden, but nothing had tasted as rich as the charred grilled cheese sandwich the grumpy cook had shoved on her before the bar opened.

Three days, and she still hadn't grieved.

It had to be partly shock. The trauma of going from jail to the streets to drugged out of her mind. But when she tried to picture her bedroom at home, she didn't miss the luxuries. Showers with endless hot water, electricity that came from underground wires rather than loud, smoke-spitting generators. Instead she remembered the locks on her windows. The cameras that tracked her every movement. The guards. The rules. Her father's endless sermons.