Highest Bidder: 1 (Mercy) (3 page)

“No more bids?” the Bo’aa asked.

Silence.

“Sold!” the Bo’aa shouted, just as Naya’s search fell upon a pair of unreadable eyes.

Eyes she knew very well. The eyes of…

“The famous Dreylan Tarq!” the auctioneer crowed with delight. “The new owner of the only
riephia
in the known systems!”

Naya stared at the massive man in the crowd. Watched him run an indifferent inspection over her body before beginning a slow saunter toward the dais through the parting crowd. Her body grew tenser with each arrogant step he took.

She swallowed, mouth dry, heart hammering.

Dreylan Tarq, her new owner, her new master, was the man in her dreams.

Dreylan Tarq was her dream lover.

He didn’t say a word to her. Not a word.

To hushed excitement, he climbed the dais and took the end of Taipyr’s chain in one large hand.

“You will be pleased with her,” Taipyr gushed. “Her body is ripe for plucking and she has the spirit of a she-devil. The fight to tame her will be as enjoyable as the con—”

Tarq’s icy stare slid to the Mentuan, who immediately fell silent. Naya heard her one-time captor shuffle backward. Still without a word, the man—Dreylan Tarq—took a step closer. Even from a couple of feet away, his heat folded around her, warming her chilled flesh. It felt so familiar and yet so totally invasive.

Naya’s stomach pitched. She lifted her chin and glared at her new owner. He might look like the mysterious, silent lover of her dreams, but he wasn’t. He was just as hideous and depraved as Taipyr. “You will regret buying me.”

The crowd below burst into raucous cheers and guffaws, enjoying the show. Tarq studied her. Unreadable. Then he destroyed what little space there was between them, the hardness of his thighs brushing hers. A hot jolt shot straight to her core and her pussy clenched tight. But not as tight as her chest. Or fists. Boiling contempt seized her in its grip.

Without thought, she spat at him.

The crowd whooped and hollered their delight. Her new owner didn’t flinch. Still silent, he wiped her spittle from his hard, angular cheek with one hand and, gaze locked on hers, reached for her collar with the other.

Naya tensed, waiting for the savage jerk on the chain sure to come.

It didn’t. Instead, there was a soft click as Tarq detached the chain from her collar.

The crowd gasped. As did Naya. A bright flare of hope erupted deep within her being. Free? Was her new owner setting her free?

His chilling stare killed the foolish notion immediately. He may have removed the chain, but his eyes told her she was still enslaved.
Do not try to run.

Heart sinking, stomach a mass of emotions, Naya swallowed. She was the property of this man now, and soon he would fuck her.

The old gods alone knew what Tarq’s ideal mate was, but it wouldn’t be long before Naya became her.

The only
riephia
in existence, the last hope for her home planet, for Earth and its vulnerable, rejected people, sold to a man more frightening than any she could imagine. This was
not
her destiny.

So why was a tiny part of her excited?

* * * * *

The rental unit Dreylan had taken on Level 8 of Port Mercy was compact but purpose built. A large bed occupied one half of the main area, each of its four corners equipped with not only anchor points for a slave’s chain, but a selection of bindings as well. Depending on the occupier’s taste, a slave could be shackled, cuffed, chained, roped, manacled or silk-scarfed to the bed.

In the far corner of the confined space waited an X-post whipping stand and, beside that, a Slessorian pleasure chair, complete with a sub-neuron stimulation interface.

Dreylan walked across the space until he reached the bed, dumping the chain previously attached to his new property on the sagging mattress.

Not your new property, Tarq. Ipari’s.

A scowl pulled at his brow. The premier had neglected to mention Naya Kistara was an empathic mesomorph. Why?

It doesn’t matter why. You’ve bought her. That was your job. Invade her dreams tonight, learn what the slavers said and did to her and get her to Ipari. ASAP.

An image of the naked Terran standing behind him filled his head and he growled.
Easier said than done, Tarq.

His body grew hot. Fuck, he hadn’t expected her to be so beautiful or innocent. Or familiar.

“What are you going to do to me?”

The question—voiced in a low and husky tone—made his scowl deepen. He turned, giving the
riephia
a long look.

She glared at him, chin tilted, shoulders square. Fear rolled from her in waves, but she refused to cower.

Dreylan’s cock twitched. Innocence and spirit. Gods, such a combination.

“Well?” she snapped, shoving her bunched fists onto hips Dreylan knew would be intoxicating to touch. “How are you going to fuck me? On my back? Or like a rutting beast?”

The terrified innocence in her smoky-gray eyes belied the crudeness of her words and Dreylan couldn’t help but smile. His new possession had the spine of a warrior queen. His cock twitched again. What a contradiction.

“You may own everything about me…my body, my mind, my psyche. But know this—no matter how many times you shove your dick between my legs, you will never own my soul.” Her eyes flashed fire. “You may think you’ve bought a
riephia
, but you’ve really bought trouble.”

Dreylan couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

A warrior trapped in a naïve, innocent beauty. Ready to spit and scratch and tear him limb from limb, despite knowing all the while how empty her statements were.

He knew exactly what happened to an empathic mesomorph the very second of penile penetration. Everything she was ceased to exist.
Everything
.

“Well?” Her captivating eyes flared with fury. “Which shall it be? Like a man, or like an animal?”

He studied her. Saw how dry her parted lips were. Saw how shallow her breaths, making full breasts rise and fall in rapid succession. Saw how tight and hard her nipples…

He’d seen them before. He’d felt them before. He’d
tasted
them before. He was positive.

How could you? That’s impossible
.

Yes, it was. But he had.

Hadn’t he?

There was only one way to find out.

Without a word, he stepped forward, grabbed a fistful of hair with one hand, her ass with the other, and arched her backward—claiming the puckered nipple of her left breast with his mouth.

Four things happened at once.

Naya’s hissed gasp cut the air.

Her hips smashed against his.

Blistering, consuming lust surged through his body.

And the unmistakable blur of a dream-invasion memory—a
mab’noc
—exploded in his head.

Breath bursting from his lungs, he staggered backward, head spinning, cock as hard as it had ever been. Painfully hard.

He stared at Naya, his blood roaring in his ears, his balls feeling as if they were about to explode.

He hadn’t invaded anyone’s dreams since Aimyl’s betrayal. His suspicions she’d been unfaithful to him had caused him to break his kind’s laws of personal gain and enter her dreams. What he’d found there—the contempt his wife held for him, the perverted fantasies she harbored, the plans she and Ipari had made—had sliced through his heart more than any blade could. The very idea of flexing that psyche-cerebral muscle again made him sick.

So why the fuck was he being hit with a dream-invasion memory of Naya?

Not just any memory, Tarq. A memory of bringing her to orgasm after orgasm after screaming orgasm.

A powerful spasm of hunger claimed his cock. The dull ache in his swollen balls turned to a blistering agony of sheer bliss. He wanted to fuck her. Like he’d never wanted to fuck anyone in his life. He could almost
feel
the gripping heat of her pussy on his cock. As if he’d experienced it more than once.

But how is that possible? You’ve never invaded her dreams, you know that. Yes, she is familiar, a ghost in your fucked-up mind, but surely you would remember invading her dreams?

He would, but that didn’t explain why he was remembering making love to her now.

Suppressing the tremble in his hand—and body—he swiped at his mouth, trying to wipe away the taste of sweet flesh from his lips. His job was to
buy
her, not
fuck
her. She was vital to New Earth’s inclusion in the Galactic Union. He couldn’t destroy that vulnerable planet’s chance at renewal and survival under the shady protection of the GU because his dick wanted to bury itself in some female’s sex.

New Earth didn’t stand a chance on its own at defeating the violent militias fighting to rule its remaining people, nor did it have the military to defend it against attacking forces from other systems. It needed to be a member of the GU to survive, if not to prosper. The GU might be a totalitarian dictatorship under Ipari’s rule, but it wasn’t vicious. It kept its members safe—overly taxed and controlled, but safe. It was the lesser of two evils.

Which meant no matter how much he wanted to bury his cock in Naya’s sex, he couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Oh, but you so want to, don’t you, Tarq?

Her gray stare grew wide as she drew in ragged breaths. Her hand lifted to her nipple, the very nipple he’d tasted, and she touched it with shaking fingertips, the hesitant action both innocent and wildly arousing. She licked her lips, fear and—the gods help him—excitement in her eyes. “Who
are
you?”

“Your new owner,” he growled, his body burning with a need too elemental and base and familiar to ignore. In two steps he stood before her once more, shoved her onto the bed with savage purpose and crushed her to the mattress with his body.

He snared her wrists in his fists and yanked her hands above her head. She cried out, staring up at him, that intoxicating contradiction of emotions flaring brighter in her eyes. Her breasts pushed against his chest, her nipples hard points against his body. He shifted his weight, driving his crotch into the warm junction of her thighs as he dragged one hand down her arm to capture her right breast. The heavy swell of flesh filled his palm completely and he pinched her nipple between the knuckles of his first and second fingers.

Naya bucked beneath him, fighting against his hold. “Let me go.”

Dreylan paused, his heart thumping, mimicking the wild surge of blood pumping into his cock. He wanted to fuck her. Gods, did he want to fuck her. He wanted to sink into her tight wetness and lose himself there.

But not if she didn’t want him to. He was one of the most feared men in the known systems, but he didn’t rape women.

He stared down into Naya’s face, his body burning with anticipation and surreal memory.

Eyes the color of a Devaunt lunar storm gazed back at him, heady excitement shimmering in their depths. “Let me go,” she said again, even as her hips pressed up to his.

Heat shot through him. He shook his head, tightening his fist on her wrists and rolling her nipple between his knuckles. “No.” He rolled her nipple again, dragging his thumb over its puckered tip. A whimper sounded deep in Naya’s throat and she caught her bottom lip with her teeth. “Tell me what you want me to do, Naya.”

Her eyelids slipped closed for a brief moment before she gazed up at him again. She didn’t say anything. A subtle arching of her back, a slight shift of her hips,
told
Dreylan what she wanted him to do. And it wasn’t to let her go.

So he didn’t.

He massaged her breast, kneading the heavy curve, loving its pliable weight under his fingers. It felt so right. As if he’d held it, worshipped it before.

Her pussy ground to his straining cock, heating his stiff length with her wetness. “Oh gods,” she moaned, rolling her hips.

Dreylan growled, thrusting into each roll as he tweaked her puckered nipple. He loved the raw hunger in Naya’s voice. Raw hunger
he’d
created.

On her back, smooth, firm thighs pressing to his ears as he dips and delves into her creamy cunt with his tongue, her cries…

The dream memory flashed through his head, a vivid shimmer of images. He froze, staring down at Naya, her warm body pressed to his, her soft breath feathering his face. “Do you know me?”

She stared back, and for a brief moment he swore she was about to say something. Her pupils dilated, her breath quickened…and then she rolled her head to the side, eyelids fluttering closed. “No.”

Was she lying? He couldn’t tell. The scalding desire flooding through him made thought process difficult. The rapid pulse in her neck, fluttering like a trapped Zondarian night moth, drew his stare. To feel that frantic beat on his lips, his tongue…

He dipped his head, brushing Naya’s smooth flesh with his mouth.

She flinched at the gentle contact, her breath catching. Dreylan paused, knowing she fought with herself, with what she was experiencing.

What did those slavers do to you, Naya?
Fierce anger boiled in his chest. He wanted to go back to the slave auction on Level 7, find the Mentuan who’d sold Naya and tear him apart.

He pulled away from her a little, every fiber of his being screaming with grief. Shit, he’d never been so fucking confused. He had to remember what the woman in his arms was—someone raised by eunuchs, stolen from her home world. A virgin.

The stolen virgin shifted beneath him, the damp warmth of her sex stroking his erection, and he bit back a groan, fresh blood surging into his cock.

“Please…” Naya’s whispered word caressed his already tenuous control and he lifted his head, looking at her. “Please,” Naya begged. “I can’t…” She shifted again, pushing her breasts and pussy harder to his body. “It feels…so good.”