Highest Bidder: 1 (Mercy) (8 page)

She slips her arms around his waist and snuggles into his body, her coldness seeping into him. The distant chirps of the crik-crak beetles tickle his senses. He smiles, pulling in a deep breath, enjoying the woman’s softness. His cock twitches. As soon as he can convince her to leave that fucking Ezilian she’s married to, he’ll fuck her. He’d hoped she would spread her legs for him today but all that the romantic, isolated picnic has achieved so far was a stiff cock and throbbing balls.

He grabs her ass and hauls her closer to his body, dropping his head to the delectable curve of her shoulder and kissing the smooth skin there. She tastes rotten, and his cock twitches again. He charts a path up her neck with his lips, tracing the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue, nipping at her earlobe with his teeth.

Aimyl giggles and squirms against his body, rubbing her glorious breasts to his chest and her pussy to his burning erection.

He chuckles. She is a prick-tease and he loves it.

He grinds his cock to the soft curve of her mons, sucking harder on her neck.

He doubts Tarq ever made her feel so fucking horny.

She buries her fingers in his hair, into his scalp, the fleshless digits drilling into his skull as she moans, the sound dry and fluid at once. Like blood trapped in breath.

His tongue rolls over her neck, peeling away a layer of putrid skin, filling his mouth with her decaying flesh…

And he is in the office again, staring at the shape on the bed, hidden by the sheets and shadows.

No, not a bed. A pyre. A funeral pyre. Why is he looking at a hidden body on a funeral pyre?

Pretorik
, the shape beneath the bloodstained sheets calls, arms lifting under the shroud, reaching for him.
Pretorik Ipari. Come stick your fat, flaccid cock in my—

He blinks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Frowns at the small fleck of red on his cheek. What is it? He lifts his fingers to his face and scratches at the small spot. How did he get blood on his face? Why are his fingers gouging into his—

Pretorik.
The body shifts on the bed and a wave of putrescence assaults him. The sheets billow on the icy wind, wind that feels like fingers sinking into his eyes, forcing him to look at the charred chunk of flesh and shattered bone, singed hair and rotting skin.

You fucking killed me, Pretorik!

The naked woman rises from the slab…bed…pyre…bloated eyeballs drooping against flayed cheekbones, bare breasts full and heavy and delectable. Blood trickles from each nipple, twin lines of red oozing over the flatness of the corpse’s belly, slipping over the sallow curve of her sex.

He stares at the dead woman’s cunt and, gods no, his prick grows hard.

You want to fuck me, Pretorik Ipari?
Aimyl walks toward him, naked and decaying, stinking of death and sex.
You want to fuck me?
She rakes her nails over her glorious body, up her belly, over her breasts, gouging into her flesh.
Then fuck me now—

The Mentuan slaver grins, the glob of freshly spat saliva glistening on the palm of his outstretched hand.
Done. For every item captured in GU space, you will earn ten thousand credits.

The spit squishes against his flesh, as if alive and vile. His stomach churns at the clammy fingers of Tarq’s wife caressing his balls. He smiles back at the Mentuan. Ten thousand credits per slave? Nothing will stop his campaign now. Now he will become premier and—

Fuck me, Pretorik
.

Aimyl presses her lush body to his, smiling, the sun sparkling in her eyes.
As soon as I leave Dreylan, we won’t have to be satisfied with just foreplay. I’ll let you fuck me, Pretorik.

She stretches up onto tiptoe and presses her lips to his, and she tastes of death and betrayal and his future.

Gods, he wants her. Like nothing else. Wants to put her fucking husband in his fucking place. How dare Tarq not bow to his superiority?

How dare he!

The Mentuan slaver raises his glass of mulled wine and smirks over its rim.
You will be rich, Ipari. Rich enough to buy anything you want.

He only wants one thing. To put Dreylan Tarq in his place. To seduce his wife away from him and fuck them both, one with his dick, one with his power. Yes, he wants—

Aimyl slides her body against his, arms wrapping around his waist, imprisoning him in her embrace.

Fuck me, Pretorik
, she whispers, blood seeping from her lipless mouth.

Deal!
the Mentuan shouts, saliva spraying as he reaches for her breasts.

Deal
!
Aimyl screeches, burying her fingers deep between her thighs, pressed closer to him by the mass of screaming passengers crowding them.

She reaches for his cock and lowers her head until her horrifying mouth wraps around his flesh.

He thrashes on the bed, but Aimyl won’t let him go. She rises up, squatting over him, and he begins to scream.

The silence detonates with the sound of disruptor blasts, with the terrorized screams of people dying, with the screeching alarms of the short-range shuttle’s security system warning its passengers too late of the attack.

He thrashes on the icy steel floor, the stink of fresh blood, cooked flesh, ozone, sweat and sex suffocating him, filling his every breath.

Dying people squeal, squeal, squeal. He screams, bucking, desperate to be free. Gods, he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here! He’s the Premier of the GU! He is untouchable!

He is drowning in blood. He is—

Finally going to fuck me, Pretorik
, the corpse whispers in his ear, the sound like blood in breath as the creature lowers its festering, weeping sex closer to his cock.
Finally going to get what you wanted
, it gurgles.

A glob of putrid liquid drops onto his distended cock head and he screams as blistering heat burns into the flesh. Acid. He screams and bucks and flails—
Gods, I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be here
—but the dead bodies of the ship hold him down. Cover him. Suffocate him.

Finally going to get what you wanted, Pretorik Ipari
. Aimyl chuckles, the sound dry and fluid at once. The bright afternoon sun shines through her hair and blisters his skin.

Gods, I shouldn’t be here. Wake up, Pretorik. Wake—

He screams and fights, but Aimyl’s dead sex continues to suck and consume.

Finally going to get what you wanted, Pretorik.
Aimyl opens her mouth, the gaping maw coming closer to his screaming mouth, closer, closer.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. I’m—

Finally going to get fucked
, the corpse wheezes, and there is nothing left of Aimyl Tarq. The corpse crushes his mouth with its lips and teeth, oozing into his body, seeping into him, drowning him in death as its poisoned sex continues to slide down his decaying cock.

And he screams and screams and screams.

Until there is nothing left of Pretorik Ipari, just a scream that never ends and the memory of a man giving him a choice, a man with fury in his voice who—

* * * * *

Stepping from the dream, Dreylan opened his eyes.

A chill rippled over him, as it always did after every dream invasion. The psychosomatic assault drained him, both physically and mentally. He drew in a slow breath, bringing his heart back to its normal pace. His muscles burned and a fine sheen of sweat slicked his skin.

The faint echo of Ipari’s insane screams rang through his head, a cerebral residue that would haunt him until he slept again. A bleak smile pulled at Dreylan’s mouth and he rose to his feet.

Pretorik Ipari would spend the rest of his days sitting in his own shit and saliva, his unhinged mind incapable of even the most basic cognitive action. A threat to no one ever again.

“Sorry to disturb the recovery period, good buddy,” Mak said, rushing into Dreylan’s quarters. “But I’ve got a lock on the Falcon-class. We’re only two clicks away from Naya and Echo.”

Something about the tone of Mak’s voice made Dreylan’s gut clench. “And?”

“And another vessel is closing in on them fast. A Skimmer 44 bearing the New Earth–Free Planet sigil.”

Worry creased Mak’s forehead and he threw Dreylan a bleak frown. “It looks like the New Earth rebels are planning to kill Naya before she can make it to Galactic Union space.”

* * * * *

Naya stared at the unfamiliar constellations sparkling in the sky before her, trying to recall their names. The monks’ preparations had included every aspect of Premier Pretorik Ipari’s life, including something as seemingly inconsequential as the stars in his system. It was tedious and frustrating work trying to remember them now, but it forced her mind to focus on something—
anything
—other than the man she’d left behind on Port Mercy.

An image of Dreylan Tarq filled her head and her body reacted instinctually, her heart quickening, her nipples pinching tight.

Naya sighed. So much for not thinking about him.

“Chin up, honey.” Kylun—“Just call me Ky”—Echo dropped into the pilot’s seat beside her, offering a wide grin. “When the stars are so beautiful there’s no place in your heart for sorrow.”

Naya couldn’t help but smile, even as her heart continued to ache. There was an infectious merriment in Ky’s face, a roguish sparkle in his deep-green eyes. “The stars
are
beautiful.”

Ky wedged his heels against the cockpit’s control deck, threading his fingers behind his head. “They have no memory, the stars. They ask nothing of us but to be admired, and in return they swallow our secrets.” He dropped her a wink, his grin full of mischief. “What more does a broken heart need to mend?”

Naya studied the constellations again, wishing they could swallow her pain
and
her secrets. Soon Ipari would be claiming her as his wife. How in the name of all the gods was she to be everything he desired when her heart belonged to Dreylan?

She turned back to Ky. “Thank you,” she said softly. “You are only the second male with a penis I’ve known who has been nice to me.”

Ky shot her a quick look, a dimple creasing his right cheek. “Honey, I have no idea what that means, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Naya let her smile grow. “And I meant it as—”

A loud klaxon wail cut her response short. She flinched, not just at the alarm, but at the sudden tension flooding Ky’s body. He snapped straight in his chair, killing the alarm and frowning at an LCD screen flashing red on the control panel. “
Chui
. What’s a Skimmer 44 doing locking on us?”

Naya’s stomach clenched. “Skimmer 44? That’s a ship belonging to the New Earth–Free Planet reb—”

Something powerful smashed into Ky’s ship, knocking them both sideways in their seats. The internal lights flickered once and then died.

“
Shit
!” Ky burst out, just as the ship’s emergency program filled the cockpit with angry red light. He yanked on the helm, sending his small ship into a tight dive.

Tremendous pressure slammed Naya back into her seat, crushing against her chest and stomach. She gripped the armrests, staring at the streaking white lines the stars outside the cockpit had become.

“Hold on, hon,” Ky called out. “This could get a little crazy.”

She flung him a look, stunned at the wide, wild smirk on his face. Gods. He was enjoying himself.

A volley of ion blasts detonated directly over the ship’s bow, each one closer than the last. “By the gods,” Ky growled, sweat beading on his forehead, “when I get my hands on whichever one of my brothers pissed off some New Earth rebel…” He sent his ship into another sharp spiral, this one straight up.

Naya’s stomach slammed into her spine. “I don’t think it’s
you
they’re targeting. I think they’re trying to kill—”

“Give me a sec, hon,” Ky cut her off, yanking on the controls, “and I’ll get rid of these—”

The ship rocked again, this time so forcefully Naya’s teeth snapped together. The klaxon alarm started screeching, the red lights pulsing a rapid rhythm.

“Christ.” Ky killed the alarm again, his grin slightly more grim. “The fucker can fly.” He punched a sequence into the control deck and the ship banked sharply to the left, the Skimmer on its tail.

Another spray of ion blasts ripped through space. Ky directed his ship away, knuckles white, jaw clenched. A brutal force smashed into the ship, knocking it into a sickening sideways lurch. The alarm burst into deafening life again, and this time irritation etched Ky’s face. “
Fuck
.” He gave Naya an apologetic look. “Hate to tell you this, hon, but we’ve just lost the force fields. One more hit and we’re a dog’s dinner.”

Stomach clenching, heart pounding, Naya turned and stared out the window, watching the Skimmer careen past Ky’s ship. It banked into a tight arc and flew straight for them, a direct target.

“Not today,” Ky stated calmly, hauling on the helm.