Pleasure 2035 @page { margin-bottom: 5.000000pt; margin-top: 5.000000pt; } Cameo Brown Pleasure 2035 A Ravenous Romance�"ó Fantastica�"ó Original Publication A Ravenous Romance�"ó Fantastica�"ó Original Publicationwww.ravenousromance.com Pleasure 2035 Copyright © 2009 by Cameo Brown Ravenous Romance�"ó100 Cummings CenterSuite 125GBeverly, MA 01915 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review. ISBN-13: 978-1-60777-019-6 This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Chapter One Mayflower wished the sun would explode. With one powerful burst of energy, all her problems would evaporate and the universe would go on its merry way, none the wiser. No more worry about Dime. No more running from Chico. No more sitting in a hot box listening to people fucking while her clit throbbed. Just sweet, sweet oblivion. Was that too much to ask for? Mayflower sighed. Probably. Knowing her luck, the afterlife held more of the same bullshit as this life. She already felt as if she were in hell. She leaned her head back against the hard silixtric wall of her prison and swiped at the sweat dripping into her eyes. A real pleasure synth possessed the epidermal coating to withstand the high temperatures in its three-by-six home, while a human such as herself did not. Her barely-there black net covering, designed more as packaging for a synth than clothing for a human, weighed her down, its whisper-thin but dense weave scratching the sensitive skin of her breasts and her thighs instead of protecting it. It chafed her bald mons, and she shifted to ease her irritation. To no avail, of course. She’d endured worse than this, she reminded herself, although being crammed into a synth holder and having to listen to some gigolo fucking his clients senseless for the last three hours certainly qualified for the top five shittiest experiences of her life. Not only did she have to suffer the heat, she was horny as hell. Who could blame her? Based on the cooing, appreciative females this guy ushered in and out of his housing unit, he could make a rock come. She tried to focus and considered sleeping. One more hour. Only one more hour until Klyper Corporation picked her up and returned her to the warehouse, where she’d be able to slip out of this hellhole box and find her way back to Dime. She only hoped she wasn’t too late. �śWhat the fuck?” Mayflower jerked as the door to her sterile prison swung outward and a massive form blocked the opening and her only means of escape. A large hand grabbed her arm and yanked her into the blinding light of the world outside her silicone-based jail. She stumbled, blinking, trying to keep up with the force propelling her forward until she took flight, sailing ass over nose, and landed across the room in a heap, limbs akimbo. She held her breath and went into pleasure synth mode even though her instincts begged her to claw and kick her way to freedom. Instead she lay there like a rag doll, eyes as wide as she could make them, and blanked her expression. Don’t blink. Don’t breathe. Don’t blink. Don’t breathe. Her muddled thoughts pooled into two coherent ones, ones she hoped might save her ass and keep her from committing another felony, or worse, get sent back to Chico. �śDamnation.” A deep voice registered in her adrenaline-soaked brain as some force of strength lifted her by the throat and held her in the air, her toes just touching the floor. She resisted flailing and emitting a squeal, biting her tongue instead. When her eyes finally focused on the owner of the hand cutting off her oxygen supply, she nearly swallowed it. Magnificent. The most magnificent specimen of manhood she’d ever seen stood before her, scrutinizing her, his gaze roving over her face and lower. He stopped at her breasts and licked his lips, and Mayflower’s body rebelled against her efforts to remain unaffected. Though she willed herself to stay neutral, trying to resist his intoxicating presence proved too much. Down nipple! Down nipple! Down nipple! Shit! The man’s brown eyes, a shade like deep amber, widened, and he returned his penetrating stare to her face, his angular jaw set in a grimace and his soft full lips pressed into a thin line. Even ready to kill her, he epitomized male sensuality. His short black hair curled lazily around his ears, the longer back touching the nape of his neck and begging for her fingers to run through the silky strands. His five o’clock shadow lent a hint of ruggedness to his appearance – ruggedness bordering on dangerous. And dangerous he was. His fingers continued to constrict around her windpipe, squeezing harder in proportion to the fury growing in his expression. �śI hope you like to fuck, little lady,” he ground out, his tone low and threatening, �śbecause if you don’t spread those pretty thighs for me, we’re both dead.” Without warning, he let go and Mayflower crumpled to the ground, trying not to gasp for air as angry red spots floated before her eyes. She lay still as a corpse, hoping for the best, hoping he was just a delusional loser who thought pleasure synths were real women, instead of a pissed-off lucid gigolo who knew the difference. She should have known better. �śYou’ve got three minutes to make a decision. Either you play along, or I kill you right now.” He dragged her to the navy blue fucouch and tossed her against the unforgiving hardness of its square cushions. Mayflower let herself bounce onto the floor, maintaining her charade despite her captor’s best efforts to not believe her. Singing and dancing she’d mastered, acting she’d never quite got the hang of. Still lying in a heap, she did her best impression of a pleasure synth, even though the angle of her head directed her words into the floor. �śI am Synthia, model 5678, from Klyper Corporation. I am designed to meet your every sexual need. Please fuck me!” With a grunt, the man swept her up against his naked torso, a solid wall of muscle covered with crisp black hairs. An impressive erection poked her thigh through silky pajama-like pants the color of seafoam, and she froze. Had the situation been different, been before the Great Fall, she’d have melted into his arms and considered spending an afternoon in his bed, milking sweet pleasure from his hard cock and proving to herself she could please a man after all, despite what her husband or Chico thought. But that time had passed, and now the only thing left was survival. If she had to kill him to get back to Dime, so be it. He glared down at her, placing one massive hand on her lower back as he twisted her wrist behind her with the other, gripping way too tightly to be considered anything but deadly. None of her personal space remained. His face mere inches from hers, his warm breath tickled her lips as he talked. �śI’m Jovinius Markus Artinuous, Synthia,” he seethed, emphasizing her fake name,” and if you don’t do as I say when my clients get here, I’ll rip your fucking head off and shove it up your ass. Do you understand, Synthia?” A mixture of fear and anger crept up Mayflower’s spine, spread over her brain and camped out in her stomach. Her hatred of being told what to do nearly overwhelmed her better judgment, but common sense prevailed. Her choices limited, she considered her options. By her estimation, the barbarian named Jovinius Markus Artinuous had the upper hand, a hand belonging to an arm about the size of her thigh, which was bad. As Chico had complained many times before, she had big thighs. From the way he towered over her, Mayflower guessed he stood well over six feet, and he obviously possessed incredible strength, strength she’d only seen before in one species�Ś Oh my God. Panic flared, replacing anger and ordinary fear to move like fire through her veins and singe her already frazzled nerves. A synthbot. He had to be a synthbot. Mayflower couldn’t breathe. The one challenge she’d not anticipated when she ran away from Chico now held her at his mercy. His strength, his unusual good looks, his large cock, the freaky name, and his bad manners�"being a synthbot explained it all. She had to get away. Sheer terror sparked her brain into action and Mayflower shrieked. She kicked out, connecting with his shin at the same time she tried to wrench out of his grasp. The monster showed no indication of pain and instead held her fast, releasing her lower back to wind his fingers through her hair. Tugging her head back, he forced her to look up at him. In a final act of defiance, she closed her eyes, preparing for him to strangle the life out of her, for the jarring pain of her neck snapping and the subsequent absolute darkness of death. She should welcome the nothingness, but unfinished business nagged at her. She should have fought harder. If she hadn’t been so tired of it all, she might have. She’d failed Dime, like she’d failed her son. It would be her only regret. Mayflower started violently and her eyes snapped open as warm, soft lips crushed hers. A moist tongue probed the slight part where her mouth opened in surprise. Instead of pain, intense desire flooded her being. Instead of choking the life out of her, the man with three names woke up parts of her she’d thought long dead with every practiced caress against her lips. She closed her eyes again, this time blocking out anything but the sweet sensation of his lips teasing hers. Her fear of the creature slowly morphed into fear of wanting him to take her and do things to her she’d only imagined in her wildest fantasies. Though confused, Mayflower longed to kiss him back, and she might have. Lack of oxygen and a flood of emotions threw her off balance. Reality came and went. After one last nip at her bottom lip, the sensual assault ended. Mayflower opened her eyes to find Jovinius regarding her with an unreadable expression, possibly part curiosity and part arousal. She’d never known a synthbot to experience anything but anger and madness. None of this made sense. Her head spun. �śA couple will be here in one minute expecting me to fuck you. If I don’t provide them with what they’ve paid for, they won’t hesitate to kill us both. They aren’t very nice people. Do you want to die, Synthia?” His words vibrated against her skin as he licked and nipped a trail down her neck. He planted a kiss on her jugular and her pussy twitched. If this monster was half as good with his cock as he was with his lips�Ś No! Mayflower shuddered at her the betrayal of her body. Perhaps it had forgotten what these animals had done to her, but her mind and heart never would. As soon as she could find a blaster, she’d end his existence without a second thought and be on her way. But first, it appeared she’d have to deal with the synthbot’s clients. A loud blip startled her, and her captor searched her face for a response, those amber orbs mesmerizing her like a snake’s does its prey. She focused her gaze on the digital portrait flashing over the computer nook, breaking their connection, and nodded in resignation. With a grunt, he shepherded her to the fucouch on his way to the door, dropping her against its unforgiving rigidness like one would drop a piece of garbage. Mayflower fumed as she situated herself, straightening her mesh covering as best she could and crossing her legs to hide any evidence of her excitement. Anger fought with self-loathing. How could she ever feel anything but disgust for a creature whose neural mates took her son’s life? Just as Jovinius Markus Artinuous reached the door, his fingers hovering above the keypad ready to punch in the security code, Mayflower came to her senses. �śHey, Jovinius Markus Whateverus,” she hissed in a low voice. He glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. She didn’t care. If he wanted to live, as all synthbots did, he’d have to listen to her. �śWhatever you do, don’t let them see my tits.” Chapter Two �śGood evening, Janis. Mr. Dosten,” Mark greeted his guests with a practiced nod. With a sweeping gesture, Mark welcomed the odd couple into his housing unit, an apartment designed for the ultimate bachelor. Sparse furniture and masculine décor, including the digital portrait player flashing artistic black-and-white nudes mixed with landscapes, lent credibility to his image of the typical sexual nomad, yet offered enough humanity and culture so he passed for Blue Honey without any question. His clients filled in any missing details themselves. How little they really knew about him, and how little they really cared. Except for the ones who wanted him dead, of course. Some Blacks didn’t like any Blues in their techie territory, not since the Great Fall. Too many bad feelings remained between those who wanted pilox technology free for all and those who wanted to profit from it. Mark breathed deep and tried to focus on the task at hand to calm his overloaded system. Fighting off an assassin was not the usual activity he liked to pursue before meeting with a client, but it didn’t seem he had any choice. Whoever wanted him out of the way must be cleverer than he’d anticipated, and it galled him. After two thousand years, how could he lose his edge now? The residents at the Camp depended on the intelligence he gathered. Failure was not an option. The sexy nymph lounging on his fucouch, as if she hadn’t been crouched in a synth box waiting to kill him, couldn’t have possibly had anything to do with his blood racing. Janis glanced down at Mark’s erection as she sauntered past, her bony hips swaying and her red-rimmed eyes sparkling with anticipation. �śOh, Jove, you’re horny as hell, aren’t you?” she teased. Okay, perhaps his little assassin did have an effect on him. That was probably her job�"bang ’em and hang ’em. Female Black bag chicks were notorious for their unusual beauty, and this tantalizing minx certainly fit the bill. Her black spiky pixie cut accentuated the high cheekbones in her perfectly oval face and set off her deep violet eyes. Her full black lips invited exploration, and her warm mouth promised all kinds of delights. Mark’s cock twitched. He probably should have killed her during their kiss when she seemed so vulnerable. It’s not like he hadn’t done it before. The image of Niobe’s wide-eyed stare formed in his mind and twisted his gut into a knot. �śDid you get my message?” Mr. Dosten sniffed as he ushered his wife through the door in front of him. Mark nodded, glad for the momentary distraction. �śYou wish to watch, then engage,” Mark stated, reiterating the demands Mr. Dosten included in his belligerent phone message the day before. Janice licked her lips, and Mr. Dosten gave Mark a condescending, tight-lipped smile of assent. The door slid closed behind them, locking in place with a swish. �śI think you’ll like what I have planned,” Mark said, hoping the hellcat on the fucouch hadn’t changed her mind about cooperating. The Dostens, high-stakes players in lithac smuggling, qualified as certifiably psychotic. Mark had handled them without incident to this point, but having to dispatch a woman sent to kill him in the middle of session might set either one of them off. The ensuing squabble and publicity he simply did not need. The couple sat down in the identical black leather easy chairs designated for clients, and Mark strolled to the fucouch. �śJanis, Mr. Dosten, may I present Synthia 5678? She’s a new model pleasure synth, custom made to offer the most realistic sexual experience possible. Her breathing, her responses, all programmed to be as human as the real thing. I think you’ll like what she has to offer us.” �śI distinctly remember requesting a human woman,” Mr. Dosten said, frowning. �śNone were available with the characteristics you requested, and my notes indicate you prefer a Black woman to a Blue, is that correct?” Mr. Dosten nodded curtly, still obviously displeased until he glanced at the woman occupying Mark’s fucouch. His whole demeanor changed. His foul expression morphed into one of awe, and the front of his pants tented. Mr. Dosten liked what he saw, and Mark should have been happy. However, watching Mr. Dosten’s measly prick continue to ruin the line in his expensive black slacks, irritated Mark to no end for some reason. Mr. Dosten rubbed the front of his pants, and a low �śmmhmm” escaped his throat. Mark followed his gaze to where Synthia struck a docile pose, staring straight ahead, as if sitting for a portrait. Her shallow breathing lifted her shapely breasts against the black mesh hiding them, and even seated, the flare of her hips accentuated her ample curves. Mr. Dosten shifted in his seat and licked his lips. �śShe’ll do, Jove,” he said, pulling at his cock. �śLet’s begin, shall we?” Hiding his disgust as best he could, Mark pulled the string on his pajama bottoms with one hand and with the other used the remote control to recline and elevate the section of the fucouch where Synthia sat immobile, lying back without any resistance when the back folded down. The sides of the fucouch slid away to allow him access to the prone synth impostor as a pillow rose to accommodate her head. She didn’t flinch or breathe. She didn’t blink. He sensed no fear whatsoever. Whoever trained this bag chick did a good job. �śI want you to lick her pussy, then fuck her ’til she screams,” Janis blurted, ending her words with a giddy giggle. Mr. Dosten turned to face his wife and narrowed his eyes. Her head dipped back and she laughed as she pulled her purple mesh top off and threw it across the room. She bounced on the leather chair, clapping her hands in front of her. �śI’m horny! I’m horny!” she chanted, her head rolling this way and that as if she alternately searched something on the ceiling and all four walls. Mr. Dosten glared at Janis, but, high on lithac, she didn’t seem to notice. Things were not starting off as well as Mark planned. �śShut up, you miserable piece of shit,” Mr. Dosten spat at Janis, slapping her cheek. Mark flinched and ground his teeth. Violence sparked by pure anger solved nothing. He ought to know. Janis paused, her mouth in an �śO” and tears brimming in her eyes. She drew herself up in a ball like a small child and pouted. �śI still want him to lick her pussy,” she demanded, defiant, and Mr. Dosten turned his attention back to Mark. �śLick her pussy so she’ll shut up, but do it quickly,” he said, standing and unzipping his pants. It never failed to amaze Mark how quickly Mr. Dosten’s demeanor changed from sophisticated to uncouth in a matter of seconds. Mark quelled his displeasure and focused his attention on Synthia lying there, fully aware but not knowing what to expect. Mark would have felt sorry for her�"the thought did occur to him�"but bag chicks took training in the arts of seduction as well as the arts of misery. She’d figure it out when his tongue touched her clit. It wasn’t his problem anyway, was it? Stepping out of his pajama bottoms, Mark made his way to the foot of the elevated cushions, the cool, clammy air raising goosebumps on his skin. He shrugged it off. He’d be warm soon enough, and so would his little assassin. Or at least her pussy would be. Mark placed himself between Synthia’s legs and slid his hands underneath her ass, surprised to find taut muscles there and at the tender backs of her thighs. He lifted her enough to drag her to the end of the mounting cushions. She didn’t struggle, not even an involuntary twitch. Shit, maybe she’d swallowed a poison pellet. Some bag chicks�"the crazy ones�"were known to carry them and eat them when captured. He hadn’t tasted the benign coating of one during their kiss, but she might have had it way back in her throat. Mark pinched Synthia’s ass as he eased her legs down and apart, but nothing happened. That meant in a few minutes, he’d be fucking a corpse. A beautiful corpse, but still. He was a lot of things, but a necrophiliac wasn’t one of them. Mark removed her booties and the mesh covering her mons and spread her legs farther, hoping for some kind of response. This position left her delicate pink folds exposed to Janis, whose hand moved slowly back and forth down the front of her short black skirt, and Mr. Dosten, who leaned forward, his engorged cock in his hand. She still didn’t move. Damnation! She was either dead or frigid, and neither would satisfy the Dostens’ tastes. They liked their showpieces to make some noise. Mark’s mind whirled. He’d have to do some pretty fancy tongue work to get out of this one without a disaster, and even that wouldn’t work if she’d swallowed golanide. Mark stroked Synthia’s thighs, getting into his rhythm and waiting for her skin to heat under his touch. Her thighs were muscular and firm; her pale mons soft and inviting, even though completely bald. She must have shaved herself to blend in as a pleasure synth. Klyper Corporation didn’t waste money on pubic hair unless the customer special-ordered it. She appeared clean, the pink flesh between her lips plump, smooth, and healthy. Inviting. Bag chicks kept to a higher level of hygiene than most Blacks. The job demanded it, and for once Mark was grateful the bloodthirsty lot stayed so loyal to the cause that they’d do anything, including bathe regularly. The alternative soured his stomach. Luckily, they also usually wore n-nets, too, so he didn’t have to worry about catching one of the techie culture’s god-forsaken diseases. The nanobots in the microscopic netting absorbed and destroyed any toxin or germs before they could be soaked up by the uterus. It did the same for sperm, and prevented pregnancy 100 percent. He definitely didn’t want another child. �śLick it! Lick her pussy already!” Janis shouted with a cackle, gripping the edge of her chair and rubbing herself with furious strokes. Mr. Dosten’s erection dripped. He glanced at his wife and frowned. �śYou’re high, you crazy bitch,” he snarled, stating the obvious without a bit of irony. When Janis continued without acknowledging him, he returned his attention to Mark. Show time. Mark kneeled and leaned close to Synthia’s pussy, ready to place the tip of his tongue between her folds and make the best of it. The unexpected scent of her arousal caught him by surprise. Inhaling deeply, he smiled. His new acquaintance was, indeed, alive. She’d almost convinced him, but pussies don’t lie. They don’t cry either, unless they’re excited, and hers wept. Telltale droplets glistened, beckoning him to taste her softest parts. Her mind might want to kill him, but at least one part of her wanted to do something else to him. Intoxicating. It’d been too long since he’d been with a real woman�"not a nagging shrew of a client, another Blue Honey, or a pleasure synth. He hated the odor of pleasure synths. They smelled like plastic coated with some kind of flowery air freshener, and the intense friction caused by his thrusting released more of the same, only more intense. It reminded him of fucking a burning tire, only not quite as hot. Synthia’s fragrance made him dizzy, and his cock throbbed. Unable to resist, he plunged his tongue into her depths, sliding it up one side and down the other before teasing her clit with short, fast strokes. Her breathing quickened, and he continued to suckle her, her juices like sweet honey. Without thinking, he lifted his shoulders into her legs and hooked his arms under her thighs, holding her steady while he feasted on her. He nibbled her clit, and Synthia nearly came off the table. She arched her back and gasped, one hand flailing to grasp the side of the cushions and the other buried in Mark’s hair. She finally surrendered to his ardent demands, moaning and writhing, full of life and passion, her body begging to be fucked. Mark was only too happy to oblige. He worked his way to a standing position, raining kisses on her mons and her soft belly, kneading her hips as he worked his way along her body to her breasts. She stiffened and he remembered her warning, stopping just before he removed the protective mesh covering. �śI want to see her tits,” Mr. Dosten said, gasping as his fist jerked clumsily along his pecker. Janis stood, completely naked, giving everyone a clear view of her fingers buried in her pussy, moving back and forth rapidly while she bounced up and down, bending at the knees. �śLook, I’m masturbating! I’m doin’ it to myself!” she sang in a squeaky voice, but Mr. Dosten ignored her, as did Mark. A sudden urge to plant himself deep inside Synthia blotted out everything else, and he gave into his desire. His cock burned for release, but he took it slow. Mark wet himself, sliding his hard length into Synthia’s slick depths, enjoying the caress of her swollen flesh against his cock. She drew a stuttered breath as he placed the tip at her tight opening and pressed into her, just a bit at first. When she lifted her hips and whimpered, he did something he hadn’t done in centuries. He lost control. Chapter Three Mayflower lost control. Being watched set her blood afire and had for years. Having sex for an audience excited her beyond reason, and while she enjoyed more intimate settings most of the time, exhibiting her prowess in front of others gave her a thrill like no other. Though she fought the growing need the fluid motion of his tongue had elicited, the sudden knowledge he couldn’t possibly be a synthbot left her vulnerable to his ardent demands. Synthbots, for whatever reason, didn’t have scrotums. The man between her legs was as complete and whole a man as she’d even seen – and she’d seen way too many. Instead of revulsion, her body ached for the touch of the godlike beast ravaging her senses. His tongue played wicked against her clit, and her traitorous body refused to resist the intense coil of pleasure building low in her belly. It wound and unwound in a delightful dance of sensation, carrying her mind away on a cloud of pure lust. He penetrated her, his large girth filling her like his cock had been made from a mold of her pussy, and she cried out. He moaned and closed his eyes, hovering above her, his arms encasing her, protecting her on either side as she lay there, impaled and blissfully processing every tiny, precious detail of their coupling. The scent of their mutual arousal, a mixture of musk and something indescribably primal and delicious. The feel of him inside her, thick and pulsing. The sight of the muscles in his neck and biceps cording with the effort of restraint. Mayflower reached up and stroked the tan skin of his arms, letting her fingers wander over his shoulders, across his chest and lower. He watched, his amber eyes darkening to a fine shade of light chocolate, and his full lips parted slightly. Desire, she decided, looked better on him than anyone else she’d ever had the pleasure of fucking. Crisp hairs tickled her fingertips as she ran her palms down and settled one on his torso. She let the other hand drift between them, lightly playing with the nest of black hair above where he entered her before stroking her own mons. Even the slightest pressure sent waves of pleasure flowing from her pussy. Mayflower savored their connection, but she was so ready to come. She lifted her legs, rubbing the insides of her knees against his hips in a slow, sexy rhythm, and his expression turned feral. He held her gaze and tilted his hips just enough to make her gasp with need, to show her who was in control. �śFuck me,” she mouthed, leaving herself to his mercy. �śYou’re sure?” he whispered, his low timbre inciting more of her juices. She’d never been so wet in her life. �śFuck me hard,” she said, emboldened by her passion. �śIt’ll be a good, slick ride, baby. I promise.” �śI’m going to fuck you until you scream,” he growled, his eyes flashing. He thrust, and the pleasure began to build again. Faster and faster his rigid cock slid in and out of her wetness, its friction against her clit obliterating all reason. He pounded into her, his hips bucking wildly as his speed increased. With one swift movement, he lifted her ankles to his shoulders and drove deeper into her pussy. She couldn’t help but dig her nails into his sides as she fought to steady herself against the wonderful onslaught. He didn’t seem to notice. He drove deep, thrusting madly, rubbing his face along the side of her ankle where her pulse beat. He kissed it between moans until without warning, he bit down on her and sucked on her flesh, sending a jolt of electricity right to her cunt. She moaned and watched him come. His head thrown back, he lifted himself into her, stiffened, and�Ś Did he just yell Aphrodite? She didn’t care. His next thrust sent her spiraling over the edge. The release of tension in her pussy exploded into a thousand tiny shocks of pleasure crashing over her in wave after wave of ecstasy. She screamed and her pussy clamped down, milking his cock, forcing him deeper until she swore he touched her very soul and it cracked, letting some strange stray feeling roll through her. Some kind of awareness, like something she longed for but couldn’t quite grasp, slithered on the fringes of her swirling thoughts. She panted, her orgasm morphing into a full-body hum, and the feeling drifted across her consciousness like a leaf floating in the wind, teasing her as it drifted just out of reach. First this way, then that. Whenever her mind tried to latch on to it, it flitted the other way. Her brawny lover lifted her up and into his arms, tucking her against him until her head lay on his shoulder and her heart pounded in sync with his. As her breathing returned to normal, she realized the identity of the elusive phantom taunting her. Safety. She whispered Dime’s name and burst into tears. Chapter Four Mark’s blood ran cold. He didn’t know which bothered him more: the fact that Synthia had whispered some other guy’s name after he’d given her the fucking of a lifetime, or the fact she wept in his arms. Maybe it was the fact that his fangs had dropped for the first time since he’d been cured, or that he’d just ravaged the woman sent to kill him – and never felt so alive in his life. He had little more than two seconds to ponder it when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. �śMy turn, Jove,” Mr. Dosten demanded, his voice gruff. He shoved Mark back and grabbed for Synthia. His hand barely touched the black netting bunched around Synthia’s waist before Mark returned his shove and then some. Synthia recoiled with a squeal and rolled off the mounting cushions, crashing to the floor. Mr. Dosten stumbled back, but recovered quickly, lunging forward, trying to use his small, wiry frame and agility to his advantage. Too much lithac and too little exercise worked against him. His thirty-something body reacted like a ninety-year-old’s. Mark held up his palms, deflecting with ease Mr. Dosten’s attempt to charge him and sending the agitated man sprawling on the floor. Beside Mr. Dosten, Janis lay across her chair, oblivious to her husband’s plight, one hand between her long, scrawny legs and the other rubbing a yellow substance in her eye. More lithac, no doubt, as if she needed any more. �śI pay you a hell of a lot of money, you whore,” Mr. Dosten yelled. �śI want my turn!” He staggered to his feet, his face red with the effort, and swung wildly. Mark caught him by the throat and held him in place. The smaller man squirmed, clawing at Mark’s wrist with both hands. Mark squeezed harder. �śThis pleasure synth cost more than you’re worth, you bastard. Keep your hands off.” �śHow much?” Mr. Dosten choked out. �śWhat?” �śHow much do you want for it?” Mark clenched his teeth and heaved Mr. Dosten across the room. �śShe’s not for sale. Get out.” Mr. Dosten pulled himself up the bright white wall, catching his breath. A wicked grin crossed his face as he wiped the sweat from his brow. �śShe? How sweet. I saw how you were fucking it. You’ve got a thing for it, don’t you? You like it,” he taunted, sneering. His remark caught Mark off guard. A screech from behind him and a solid blow to his back knocked Mark off balance. A bony arm circled his neck, the nubby nails of its hand scraping at his skin. Stick legs wrapped around his waist as he dropped to one knee with a grunt. Searing pain shot through his side and he gasped. Janis’s shrill voice echoed in his ear. �śCocksuckermotherfuckingbastardprickassho�"eeek!” A thwack halted Janis’s tirade and something lifted her weight away from him. Mark grabbed his side just as Mr. Dosten let loose a wild laugh and planted his foot on Mark’s jaw, yelping as he hopped away clutching his ankle. The maniac’s giddy expression died on his face as Mark lifted his chin, not bothering to hide his fury. �śNow you’ve pissed me off,” Mark said, his voice sounding deadly even to his own ears. He stood, ignoring the creamy liquid cascading down his side. Mark channeled all his energy into pummeling Mr. Dosten into a grease spot, advancing on him as the coward scurried away. Only Synthia’s terrified scream stopped him. * * * * Mayflower yelled in the bitch’s ear, trying to break her concentration even as she marveled how a full-on junkie like Janis could have any brain cells left. Considering she’d been the one to pull the crazy loon off Jove, Mayflower wondered whether she had any brain cells left herself. Regardless of her drug-addled, rickety body, the lithac in Janis’ system gave her incredible strength and fueled her paranoia. Mayflower pinned her to the ground, struggling to straddle her flailing captive. Janis rolled beneath her, glaring up at her with dilated pupils as she thrashed and scratched. Spittle foamed at the corner of her mouth as unnatural gurgles and shrieks escaped her throat. Fed up, Mayflower wound up and punched Janis as hard as she could, knocking her head against the floor and silencing her strung-out opponent just long enough for her to get the upper hand. With great effort and a burst of expletives, she got to her feet, pulling Janis with her, and dragged her to the pleasure synth box. Jimmying the door, she wrangled the dervish of arms and legs inside, kicking and smacking the last of Janis’s limbs away from the jamb and slammed it. Unsteady and breathing heavily, she stepped back, one hand on her hip and the other hovering above the WASH button. She thought she heard Mr. Dosten make a noise, but with Janis hollering threats and calling her mother all kinds of names – not that they weren’t well deserved – she couldn’t tell. Perhaps he yelled a marriage proposal, as his being so taken with her started this entire disagreement in the first place. Until then, things had been going pretty well, at least where the fucking was concerned. Perhaps the son of a bitch now begged her to spare his wife’s life, a testament to true lithac junkie love with there ever was one. But with Janis still going off like a car alarm, she just didn’t have any way to know for sure. Too bad. Mayflower pressed the WASH button. * * * * Mark didn’t believe his eyes. He turned, ready to take the brunt of Mr. Dosten’s wrath in order to rescue Synthia from Janis’s lethal tirade – sweet Aphrodite knew why – and instead found Synthia beating the shit out of his unruly client. Then she managed to get her locked up in the pleasure synth box and actually pressed WASH. Mighty Athena, great daughter of Zeus, didn’t she know what would happen? Hollering, Mr. Dosten charged past him, knocking him over the mounting cushions, Janis’s knife in his hand. Mark rolled across the floor in time to see Mayflower catch Mr. Dosten’s arm in mid-thrust, wrapping it behind him and forcing him forward. She pried the entrance to the synth box open with her foot, releasing a puff of yellow smoke, and threw him inside, kicking him in the ass for good measure. Sealing the box by throwing her body against it, she hit WASH once more, and Mr. Dosten’s muffled screams faded as the hiss of water so hot it could scald lava cleansed the box and its contents. Apparently, she did know what would happen. Impressive. Mark didn’t know what to think. For a bag chick, her techniques were a little amateurish, yet held a certain creativity and resourcefulness, and she showed more emotion than he expected. Nearly perfect instincts, though. Perhaps he’d made a mistake, albeit maybe a good one. Doubtful. There were no good mistakes. Synthia’s eyes widened, and something akin to concern crossing her pretty face as he dropped to one knee, holding his side. Wooziness swept over him. If the spreading ruby stain on the carpet was any indication, he’d lost more blood than he realized. The wound must be deep. His vision blurred a little as Synthia approached, carrying Janis’s purple mesh top. It cleared enough he got a spectacular view of her tearing the mesh away from her hips and tits and tossing it aside. She stood before him, feet apart and hands on her hips, eyeing him up and down. Without a word, she reached beside him and grabbed his pajama pants. Mark blinked. He must be dreaming. The Black angel before him stood perfect in every way except one. Black ink covered Synthia’s right nipple, including her areola, and her pale left breast sported the same deathly color at the tip, but no nipple. Odd, even for a Black. Synthia continued to watch him as shimmied into his pants, using the string to secure them on her shapely hips. She dropped the shorty top over her head and wiggled until it fell into place over her strange, firm breasts. �śI know what you’re thinking, and the answer is I chewed it off myself,” she said, the quiver in her voice nearly imperceptible. Mark smiled, and he thought he saw the corner of her mouth turn up just a bit. Quite fetching. If he hadn’t lost so much blood, his cock would have joined the party. �śI have to get back to Dime,” she said, the determination in her sultry voice unmistakable. �śAnd you’re going to help me.” Dime? Who the fuck was Dime? And why did she keep bringing him up at the most inopportune times? �śLike hell,” he said, his side throbbing. Synthia didn’t bat an eye. �śYou can lie there and die, or help me get back to Dime. We can get you fixed up. You can’t stay here. I imagine their bodyguard will be up any time looking for them.” Very perceptive. The Dostens did have a bodyguard, Petey. Unlike his employers, he didn’t have a lithac addiction, but he did have a temper and a bad attitude, courtesy of enough steroids to kill Godzilla. Mark didn’t have a choice, nor did he have time to respond before Hannah, long brown hair flying, ran into the living room and threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over. �śJove! Oh, my God!” she wailed, clutching him. �śYou’re hurt. Oh, my God!” Thanks be to almighty Zeus the girl was petite, or she’d have torn his wound wider. Mark grunted as the sharp pain choked the wind out of him. The pain came with a benefit: Synthia colored nicely when she saw his beautiful young acquaintance in the throes of distress. Good. Jealousy could be a useful emotion, one he intended to use to his advantage. He didn’t know who sent Synthia to kill him, but he knew one thing... She was his now, no matter what. Chapter Five Mayflower maneuvered the ambulance to the ground in a smooth landing, contrasting sharply with her wrecked nerves. The last ninety minutes passed like flashes of a strange movie flitting from frame to frame in her head, from her discovery in the pleasure synth box to her hijacking the ambulance sent to pick up Jove, or whoever he was. She should be grateful Janis stabbed him. Calling the ambulance gave her transport back to Dime, but the memory of Jove looking at her with such passion, even while bleeding, sent a jolt of fear through her she hadn’t experienced for a long, long time. Heaven only knows why. Now her wounded prisoner and his little girlfriend�"was she even twenty-five?�"sat in the back, huddled together, whispering, and she sat up front, gearing the vehicle down into standby mode like a chauffeur. She should have pitched both of them out when she knocked out the medics and left them in the alley behind Jove’s housing unit. Now she had to put up with the little tart fawning over him and his eating it up. What a fucking gigolo. So what if he was good-looking? And strong? And the sexiest man she’d ever met? The sudden, unexpected memory of his cock plunging into her warmed her inside and out, cream dampening her pussy flesh and threatening to ruin the pretty jammy pants she pilfered from him. �śWe’re here. Get out,” she said, trying to sound authoritative, as if being in charge meant she couldn’t possibly have a thoroughly drenched pussy. Hannah, still weepy, tugged at Jove’s massive arm, trying enthusiastically to help him up though her sniffling made it impossible. Mayflower didn’t like the pallor of his skin or the amount of blood on the sheet. Dead, he was of absolutely no use. Alive, he might be the just the ticket she and Dime needed to get out of Old Long Beach and to safety, wherever that was. She pushed Hannah aside, placed Jove’s arm over her shoulder, and heaved them forward. He fell into her, knocking them both into the side of the ambulance, where Jove’s body came to rest against hers. Jove leaned on her, and, even in his weakened state, embers of desire glowed in his eyes. �śDo you know what you do to me?” he said, his voice low and hoarse. Mayflower stared at him, hypnotized, until Hannah, sitting in the ambulance, sucked in a ragged breath and blew her nose. Her resolve restored by the reminder of his little girlfriend’s presence, Mayflower steadied herself and dragged Jove forward, not really caring if the movement hurt his side or not. He winced. Good. �śI’m not a customer, so save your bullshit for someone with money,” she said, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he dropped to the asphalt, pulling Mayflower with him. Hannah burst into another round of hysterics. �śChilly, damn it, get out here and help me,” Mayflower yelled, straddling Jove and trying to shake him awake. Unconsciousness was definitely not a good sign. She should have been thrilled to see Chilly in the doorway, but her relief was tempered by the reality of what she owed him for taking care of Dime. She’d promised him whatever he asked, but she’d known before he answered what the price would be. Her. * * * * He wasn’t asleep. The idiot junkie stitching up his wound hummed some odd techno-pop song, and he obviously didn’t notice Mark watched him with interest from his position on the upright gurney. The pain would have been too intense for anyone else, but Mark had been through too many skirmishes for it to be anything except routine. Over the years he’d developed a high tolerance for pain. At least, that of a physical kind. The spiky-haired, leather-vested thirty-something started whistling as he finished up. His nostrils, eyebrows and bottom lip sported silver rings, giving him a youthful but dangerous appearance, while the dog collar around his neck set off the narrowness of his face, making him seem learned and wise. His violet eyes and black hair matched Synthia’s, except the whites of his eyes were stained yellow, a sure sign he was a lithac user. Sitting, the young man appeared to be about five inches shorter than Mark. Was this Dime? Mark glanced up. Synthia stood in the doorway, leaning against the old-fashioned jamb, arms crossed and watching. His cock hardened at the sight of her curves, slightly raising the ratty blanket covering his lower half. His would-be surgeon still didn’t notice. Synthia didn’t move or speak, but he thought he saw her blush. �śWhere’s Hannah?” Mark asked, sudden sincere concern for the younger Blue Honey’s safety replacing the fuzziness in his brain. He didn’t know these people, and a beautiful young woman like Hannah, with her creamy skin and big brown eyes, could fetch a hefty price in the Black underground, as if there were various levels. The whole culture, as far as Mark was concerned, belonged underground. Forever. �śSo, you’re awake, are you? Hannah is keeping busy.” He poked Mark in the side and he flinched. �śMust hurt like a son of a bitch. Good. I don’t have any painkiller except lithac, and it’s mine, as is our mutual friend. Mayflower.” The young man spoke, in a voice much deeper than Mark would have expected, while busying himself with the task of cleaning up. �śName’s Chilly. I closed the wound and treated the scratches on your back. Next time you have rough sex, I suggest you leave the knives in the kitchen.” �śSo I’ll live?” The doctor held up a scalpel and eyed it with unusual interest. �śUnfortunately.” Mark ignored the man’s obvious rudeness. �śWho’s Mayflower?” Chilly gave the scalpel one last glance before he met Mark’s gaze, his yellowed eyes showing nothing but contempt. �śYour savior,” he answered, tilting his head. He glared at Mark for a long time before continuing. �śYes,” he finally said, his tone caustic. �śYour savior and my payment. This will help you sleep. See you later.” Chilly pricked him with a small needle and tossed it across the room, missing the trash can by a mile. Mark clenched his fists and tried to get up, but he found his wrists and ankles bound to the gurney. Chilly snorted a laugh and stumbled into his equipment. The instruments he so carefully put away clattered to the dirty floor. He righted himself and pointed both index fingers at Mark. �śNo problem. It’s good. I’m fine,” he said, a sloppy grin on his face. �śStay! Down boy!” he whooped, and staggered out the door, kicking it shut behind him. Mark’s side stung like a motherfucker and his temper flared, but he tried to keep calm. He was in some kind of old-style warehouse, circa 2015. No signs of technology; no signs of the Black lifestyle other than Chilly’s clothing and nasty attitude. This must be in Old Long Beach. Mark’s anger rose. How could Syn – Mayflower – fuck such a loser? He couldn’t be her handler. Bag chick handlers had to be alert. Lithac addicts barely possessed the cognitive function to take a piss, let alone plan a hit. This guy had to be a stage three, two stages below Janis, who was close to the end of stage five and just short of dying on her own when Mayflower helped her down the last few steps to eternity. Mayflower. What a pretty name. Much prettier than Synthia. Much prettier than Niobe. And much easier to yell than Aphrodite. Mark said it aloud, enjoying the sound of it as it rolled off his tongue. �śMayflower.” He said it again, and again, and again, until it became a mantra. He spoke clearly at first, but as the sleeping drug took effect, it turned into a mumble and finally a garbled mess as he drifted off into nothingness. * * * * �śSuck it, May, suck it harder.” The doctor’s agitated voice filtered through the fuzziness from the sleeping drug, along with the sounds of a woman sucking a man’s cock. Mark opened his eyes long enough to glimpse Chilly standing against the wall, naked from the waist down, with Mayflower’s head in his crotch. His hands placed on both sides of her head, he forced her to and fro along his semi-flaccid cock, his hips gyrating. Mark grit his teeth before closing his eyes and willing away the effects of the sleeping drug. The crisp, fleshy thwack of a hand connecting with a cheek brought him back. He expected, maybe hoped, he’d see Chilly spanking Mayflower, but his disappointment turned to rage. Mayflower sat back on her knees, holding her cheek, her face red and her lips puffy from sucking cock. She glowered. Chilly sneered. �śYou’re not getting me there. Come on, I know you can do better than that, or we’ll have to try something a little more drastic,” he threatened, his hand massaging his semi-limp cock. How ironic. A useless prick playing with a useless prick. Mark’s anger flared. �śIf you weren’t hopped up on lithac all the time, your dick would work and I could pay you,” Mayflower shot back. With his free hand, Chilly slapped her again. �śI took care of your retard. You need to be a little nicer. �ŚPlease Chilly, don’t kill the gigolo, he can help get us out of here. Please Chilly, let’s not fuck here, Dime and Hannah will hear us. Please take care of Dime Chilly or Chico might hurt him to get to me. Dime, Dime, Dime’,” he mimicked. As quietly as he could, Mark struggled against the leather straps holding him captive. He didn’t quite succeed. As Mayflower dropped to her hands and knees to shift herself to a standing position, she caught his gaze. Chilly didn’t seem to notice. �śWhat about me, Mayflower? What. About. Me?” Chilly barked at her rising form. �śLie down, Chilly,” Mayflower said, turning away from Mark and giving the doctor a shove. He slid down the wall, flattening himself out when he reached the floor and shimmying onto his back. Mayflower stripped, offering full view of her luscious curves, and Mark’s shaft lengthened three inches. She strolled to the makeshift counter across the room, her hips swaying and tits jiggling, and grabbed a bottle. She flipped it open, removed a small orange pill and re-capped it. �śThis will counteract the effects of the lithac long enough for you to get rid of that frustration. I can’t fuck a limp dick,” she said, and Mark recognized the determination in her tone. He’d heard it before at his apartment. She meant business. Mayflower straddled Chilly. He didn’t attempt to stop her when she pulled open his mouth and dropped the pill in. Chilly swallowed reluctantly, and Mayflower kissed his chin. Something inside Mark ached as he watched Mayflower inching her way down Chilly’s skinny body. Emotions he couldn’t identify descended upon him, just like they had the day he was taken into the darkness. Funny how those emotions were nowhere to be found the day he came back into the daylight. He’d been too weary to care by then. Chilly moaned. By the time she reached his navel, his hands covered his face and his cock rose straight up. Mayflower mounted him quickly. As Mark watched, still trying to free himself, Mayflower tilted her hips forward and back faster and faster, fucking the man beneath her with expert technique. Mark’s cock throbbed. Mayflower rubbed her breasts, her eyes closed and head thrown back. Small sounds drifted from her throat, each distinct noise a hammer slamming into his soul. This woman had an effect on him like no other. He wanted her fucking him, not the idiot on the floor. And he wanted her right now. He strained against his bonds. Mayflower dropped forward, supporting herself with her hands against Chilly’s chest. Her moans increased, but the louder they became, the hollower they rang. As Chilly neared climax, she gripped his arms, riding him hard, and Mark’s back stung from the memory of her nails digging into him. Mark realized Chilly wouldn’t have scratches, at least not the deep kind inspired by Mayflower’s untamed desire. He smiled. She was faking it. Chilly came, and two seconds later Mayflower shrieked, acting out the worst fake orgasm Mark had ever heard. His desperate need to pull the lovers apart morphed into a desperate attempt to not laugh his ass off. The doctor relaxed beneath Mayflower, his hands falling to his sides. She slid off him without looking in Mark’s direction and gathered her mismatched clothing. The pieces fought harmonious coordination, not only color-wise, but Blue- versus Black-wise. The soft seafoam silk contrasted with the dark purple mesh, but when Mayflower held them against her smooth, pale skin, they somehow blended together. They suited her. She suited him, and he wanted her. Chilly sat up suddenly, as if he’d been jolted awake by a loud alarm. His eyes searched the room, roving over the counter until he spotted a glass containing filled with yellow glop. Lithac. Mayflower watched him as he rushed for it, his torso sliding across the table as he fumbled toward the dope. A moment later, with a hefty dose of it soaking in his eye, Chilly cackled and walked heel-toe, heel-toe out the door. Mayflower lingered in the corner, trying without success to cover her nakedness with her mismatched outfit. Nothing should ever cover her naked body except him, Mark decided. This time, the worn leather snapped when he jerked his arms. Mayflower whirled in his direction as the bindings on his legs broke, and the straps holding Mark’s ankles fell away. He stepped down, the sheet covering him landing on the floor. Mayflower bolted for the door, but Mark was faster. * * * * He crushed her to the door with his well-muscled body, holding her arms above her head so his body molded to hers. Mayflower warmed all over. His hot skin and his masculine scent, like fragrant red wine, intoxicated her. His erection dripped down her thigh, eliciting a burst of her own woman’s cream. She needed release so badly. Fucking Chilly hadn’t done anything except clear part of her debt to him and frustrate the hell out of her. She could tell the real man in front of her wanted her, because he told her so. �śI want you,” he whispered, his voice husky. He pushed her thighs apart with his knee, and her pussy twitched. And he would please her, too, if this morning had been any indication of his prowess. His crossed her wrists above her head, holding them with one large hand while the fingers of the other hand played with her, stroking her clit until she swelled for him. How she wanted him to please her! Bringing Chilly in here to have sex was a mistake. She’d used Dime and Hannah as an excuse, but the truth was she wanted Jove to see her fucking another man. She’d forgotten lithac’s effect on the libido. Things didn’t turn out quite how she’d expected, and now the gigolo had her right where he wanted her, which was, Heaven help her, right where she wanted to be. His lips moved down the side of her neck, not kissing, just caressing, teasing, promising. He nipped the soft flesh under her ear, eliciting delicious shivers all over her body. �śSo tempting, Mayflower,” Jove said, running the tip of his tongue along her sore jawline. �śSo much passion and no one to share it with except the rotting walking corpse who sewed me up.” Ouch, that hurt. Mayflower bristled, her desire dropping a notch, but only a notch. She wished it were more, the damn barbarian. �śWhat would you know about it? You’re nothing but Blue Honey, providing cock for every loser degenerate Black who has enough coin to buy your services,” she snapped. Jove didn’t say anything, but the flicker of emotion unsettling his expression proved she’d struck a nerve. He reached up and flicked her nipple with his thumb and forefinger before covering her mouth with his. His soft lips played hell with her fury, washing it away to expose the simmering, anguished helplessness beneath. Tears pooled and her chest tightened. Chilly had been, at one time, a third-year med student with a promising future, before the Great Fall. Afterward, he chose the Black way – even though the rest of his family remained on the Blue side – and managed to survive because of his medical skills and shrewd nature. He knew how to be in the right place at the right time, until he hooked up with Chico. When Chico’s buddy got blasted, Chilly saved him. When Chico’s other buddy got stabbed, Chilly couldn’t save him, and Chico, being the hot-headed, cruel son of a bitch he was, put a hit out on him. Only Mayflower’s intervention saved his ass, but Chilly’s lith addiction wiped all that from his memory, just another casualty of a war between ideologies. A tear rolled down her cheek, and thoughts of Jove’s sniveling girlfriend drifted through her foggy thoughts. Her temper flared, and she tore her mouth away from his. �śI don’t have any money, Jove, so maybe you ought to go find your little honey pot,” she said, some latent instinctual need to avenge her injured ego claiming her lust-battled faculties. Jove laughed, a deep, rich sound vibrating through her and setting her blood on fire. He smoothed away the wetness on her cheek with the pad of his thumb. �śJealous female, are you?” he said, nipping at her ear. �śI do like that.” Of all the insufferable, absolutely astute and correct things to say! �śBastard!” she spat. Not very eloquent, but she found she had trouble thinking clearly, or thinking about anything at all except him plunging into her and making her legs shake. She shifted, trying to break away from him, but he pinned her effectively. His eyes darkened as her nipple brushed against his lean torso. He ran his hand along side plump side of her breast, his feather-light touch wearing away her resolve. �śDo you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?” Jove said, wrapping his arm around her waist and rubbing his thigh back and forth across her wet pussy. She gasped, the intense waves of pleasure ebbing and cresting as his strong thigh flexed between hers. �śJove�Ś” �śMark. My friends and lovers call me Mark,” he corrected her, his voice low and filled with need. �śI want you to scream it when you come, you understand? And I’m going to make you come hard so you will have to scream, won’t you?” �śYes. Oh yes�Śyes,” Mayflower rasped, her body on fire. Her orgasm loomed, and her hips begged him for it. She writhed against his leg, the coarse hairs tickling her pussy lips and taunting her bruised senses. He released her arms, using his other hand to steady her hips while she rode his leg. He watched her face the whole time, tension building in his jaw and betraying his growing desire. He lifted her into him and she reached her peak, her engorged, sensitive clit throbbing in ecstasy when release came. Mayflower yelled his name as she allowed the magical explosion of relief to claim her body and mind. Panting, she sagged against him, her body damp with sweat from her efforts. Her head on his shoulder, incomplete contentment rippled through her. She wanted more. She needed him inside her. Without warning, Mark groaned and spun her to face the door. His fingers slid into her wetness, stretching her tight opening to accept him. She shivered in anticipation. He adjusted her ass next to him and entered her. Her pussy clamped down, and he pulsed within her, stoking a fire only his seed could extinguish. His first slow thrust made her eyes roll back in her head, all thought focused on the intense pleasure building in her pussy. He sped up, moving faster and faster, going deeper and deeper with each stroke. Mark licked her shoulder as his thrusts increased, scraping his pointy teeth along her smooth skin as he pumped into her. He suckled her shoulder, his sharp teeth embedded in her soft flesh but not piercing it. The tingling sting only heightened her awareness of the sensations traveling though her body. His orgasm eclipsed hers by only a second, his semen spilling out of her as he rode out his climax. He yelled Aphrodite’s name again, but she ignored it. At least he didn’t yell Hannah’s name. She reveled in being the vessel of his need and in the feel of mating with him. Her second orgasm took her higher than the first, rocking her to her core. She floated back to Earth, and Mark slid with her to the cold cement floor, their bodies intertwined. He wrapped her in his arms, his large frame covering hers, and his proximity lulled her into a satisfied slumber. Until she dreamed of the synthbots. Chapter Six Mayflower woke with a start. She lay flat on the gurney, naked but covered with the sheet. Her pulse raced and cold sweat covered her body. She’d dreamed about them. Again. Mark had disappeared, and she thought she’d possibly dreamed their whole encounter, this whole weird day, but the sticky evidence on her thighs indicated otherwise. She missed him. She missed how he made her feel like nothing in the world could hurt them – er, her. Oh God. Getting up off the gurney helped offset her unsettled equilibrium. Harsh and cruel she understood, the feelings she’d developed for a total stranger she did not. Cold fear snaked through her. What if he’d recognized her and called Chico? What if somehow this was all a set-up for Chico to find her? What if Mark really wasn’t a Blue Honey, but a Blue assassin? She wrapped herself in the sheet and walked so fast she almost ran, trying not to panic. Mayflower rushed to the room where Chilly set up Dime’s space, the space she’d begged him to create just in case Chico got tired of her or something else went terribly wrong. And something else had gone terribly wrong. She found the door opened a crack and tiptoed to it, terrified of what she might find on the other side. She needn’t have worried. Clad in his silky pajama bottoms, Mark sat beside Dime, watching the young man work his computer. Hannah sat on the other side, gawking with avid interest at Dime’s laptop screen. Mark’s arm lay casually around the young man’s shoulders. Mayflower sucked in a deep, stuttering breath, surprised. Dime didn’t let anyone near him except her. But even with Mark so close, Dime continued to work like always, with his back against the wall, his left leg bent at an angle flat on the floor and his right knee bent to his chest. His laptop tipped precariously on his left leg, his left hand tapping the key while his right hand ran the length of his thigh, maneuvering the mouse this way and that along his jeans. His eyes widened, then shut for a few seconds. They snapped open and he blinked repeatedly before staring at the screen and laughing wildly. The cycle repeated itself again. Mayflower had endured the same scene, her heart breaking a little more with each passing day, since she’d found Dime, a handsome youth only a year or two younger than her, by her estimation. Black of hair, blue of eye, fair of skin. That’s how she described the heroes in all the stories she told him at first. She’d thought if she worked with him, read to him, played games with him, she could undo some of the neural damage caused by the leakage in his brain. Two years later, she realized nothing could undo anything. Nothing could bring back her son. Nothing could unmarry her husband from her sister. Nothing could make Chico disappear. Nothing could fix Dime. Her path to destruction set the moment she woke up in the alley so long ago�"abandoned for dead by all who knew her�"she’d reconciled her fate, but something inside her refused to give up on searching for a place for Dime. She hadn’t been able to protect her son, even as he grew in her womb, when the synthbots attacked her. She still didn’t know why they picked her, and she didn’t care anymore. What was done was done. �śWhat’s wrong with him?” Hannah whispered to Mark. �śMaaaaaaaaaafloooooooooooer,” Dime screamed in one of his random outbursts. Mayflower jumped. Her motion caused the door to creak, and Mark looked up, capturing her in his incredible gaze. Something in her tummy fluttered, winding its way lower until her thighs clenched. Dime laughed in his maniacal, bizarre, endearing way and her maternal protectiveness kicked in. She steadied her nerves and strolled into the room. Hannah shrunk next to Dime at the sight of her, and he laughed with his mouth fully open. �śPretty girl scared, Maaaafloooer,” he crooned and laid his head back. He fell asleep instantly, as usual. Hannah blushed. Mayflower arranged her sheet around her and sat at Dime’s feet, fighting the urge to throw herself over him and protect him from the intruders. It’d been them for just so long�Ś �śThis is Dime. His mother was a lithac junkie and used him as a transporter to get money to support her habit.” Mayflower’s voice faltered. Trying to put into words something so horrible was difficult, and no one ever asked before now. No one had cared. �śHe had information�"corporate secrets mostly�"stored in his head in neural form, but she let her suppliers overload him and it leaked into the surrounding brain tissue.” Mayflower felt Mark’s stare burning into her naked back and tried not to flinch. Only by never showing her fear had she survived this long. �śCan I touch him?” Hannah’s huddled form spoke, her voice quiet but hopeful. Mayflower sat there, unsure. No one had every asked to touch Dime before. All of this was too new. Strong arms encircled her from behind, holding her, and she let go of her apprehension. She nodded. Mark lifted her to her feet, and snuggled her to his naked torso. His erection poked her, but he seemed in no hurry to bed her again. Instead, he did something much worse. He held her close and rocked with her as they watched Hannah stroke Dime’s long black hair, her eyes wide in wonder. Mayflower’s tears spilled. She’d hoped for this. She longed for Dime to connect to the outside world, even with all of its horrors, but letting it happen created a surge of emotion she wasn’t quite ready for. Mark swept her into his arms, tucking her into his massive chest. He maneuvered her through the door, shutting it with his foot before carrying her back to the makeshift medical room. He sat down on the gurney, holding her while she cried. Her sniffles turned into sobs that turned into wailing, but Mark didn’t move. He just held her, his lips pressed against her forehead in silent compassion. She wanted to hate him. She really did. But when his lips covered hers, so soft and gentle, hate wasn’t the emotion causing the flutters in her stomach. She didn’t like it at all. Mayflower struggled to get away. She’d let Mark in too much already and was getting dangerously close to letting him in more. Too much more. She didn’t need anybody, certainly not a gigolo. �śHannah will be good for him, Mayflower,” Mark said, his tone reassuring. Mayflower turned her face away, swiping at the wetness on her cheeks. �śYou’re awfully quick to give up your girlfriend,” she said, trying to sound as condescending as possible. Mark placed a fingertip under her chin and turned her face to his. �śHannah’s father does corporate relations for a large company. He sold her to some buyers to keep them from taking funding for a new erectile dysfunction drug from his bosses.” �śLike Lot offering his daughters to the mob? How biblical,” Mayflower popped off. Mark squeezed her, his expression hard. She winced. �śHey, you’re hurting me!” �śHannah is twenty-three and has never been exposed to anything but Blue society,” Mark continued, his eyes narrowed and dark. �śShe has no concept of the Black culture or their technology. She doesn’t really understand what’s happening to her. My agency sent her to partner with me for the Dostens. I sent her into my bedroom and told her to go into the music closet. I don’t fuck na�Żve children.” Realization dawned. Mark intended to use the pleasure synth that was supposed to be in the box instead of Hannah. He’d risked his life to save a young girl he didn’t really know and she’d nearly ruined it. Mayflower lowered her gaze. She’d been such a bitch. �śI-I’m sorry,” she choked out, shame burning her cheeks and tears forming again. Mark didn’t speak. He stood, letting her feet slide to the floor. Turning her toward the gurney, he bent her over the thin mattress and ripped the sheet away from her body, leaving her exposed and vulnerable to his whims. She quivered and her breathing quickened. His silky pants pooled to the floor around his feet, and he kicked them aside. �śBad girls need discipline, don’t they, Mayflower?” Mark said, his voice low with a dangerous edge. �śWhat? You’re going to spank me?” Mayflower laughed, half incredulous. �śI don’t think so.” She cried out when his hand connected with the cheek of her ass, the sting from his smack burning her skin. She tried to wiggle away, but he wound his fingers in her hair and held her against the gurney. He thumped her ass again, this time harder. Heat seared her flesh and spread outward, inflaming her pussy. A burst of her woman’s cream spilled down her thighs, and she moaned in frustration. When he smacked her again, she uttered some very unpleasant words and tried to swing at him. �śOuch!” she screamed. �śYou’re hurting me, you fucker!” �śAm I?” he responded, his large hand coming down hard a third time and eliciting another round of expletives, along with the most amazing burst of need she’d ever felt. �śOr are you? How long are you going to keep torturing yourself for things you can’t control?” Stunned, Mayflower froze. Tears trickled down her cheeks, carrying with them all the pain and guilt from the past. Her ass throbbed, and her pussy ached. Powerful need tussled with anger and frustration at herself and the situation she’d let herself get into. How had she gone from being a Blue mother-to-be to a Black�Śwhatever she’d become? Mark released her, catching her as she fell forward, steadying her. He entered her without any warning, his hard cock stretching her tight opening, his crisp pubic hair pricking her scorched ass. He slid in easily and settled into a steady rhythm. He played with her tits, squeezing them, making her ache for his mouth and the way he teased her nipple with his teeth. He rubbed his fingertip across the space where her other nipple should be, acknowledging her difference from other women but not shying away from her. His touch along the smooth area sent tiny shocks through her breast, and she threw her head back. Their grunts and moans echoed off the cold walls of the warehouse, creating an eerie soundtrack reverberating in the hollow halls. It reached its crescendo as they neared completion. Mark reached around her waist to stroke her bud, nipping at her shoulder as he thrust into her, his pointed teeth pricking her with a sting. The powerful combination proved too much and she shattered into a million pieces, her orgasm more intense than before. Mark erupted inside her, his come gushing down her thighs, and a second round of pleasure wound its way through her exhausted limbs. He panted in her ear. �śDamnation,” he gasped as her pussy muscles tightened around him, drawing him in deeper and deeper. She had no control. Her body responded only to him, to his desires. She laughed, truly carefree for the first time since she could remember. She was completely and utterly free. * * * * He was trapped. Mark’s cock plopped out of Mayflower as they held each other, recovering. His orgasm blinded him, and when her cunt clamped down on his cock, the intensity rocked him to his center. He’d not felt anything so perfect since before he married Niobe. Niobe�"despicable, traitorous, a conniving whore. The opposite of Mayflower. Niobe, his own wife, hadn’t responded to him with the same passion as Mayflower, and she certainly wasn’t the type to tolerate imperfection in others. Had he realized sooner how vicious she was, his son might have lived. The vision of Mayflower struggling with her emotions when she’d found him and Hannah with Dime made his heart pound. He’d sensed her maternal instincts from across the room, though she’d tried to hide them. And now he was trapped by the lie he’d lived for so many years, by who he really was. Even now his wound healed faster than it should have, marking him. He had to leave or put them all in danger. If being an ex-vampire didn’t cause enough problems, his undercover work did. Mark had no choice. Duty called, but he didn’t want to go. Just like two thousand years ago when he didn’t want to leave his young son to fight the Persians. He chose to protect the Spartan state over his own child, leaving him with the boy’s cruel mother. If he’d only known. Mark never saw his toddler again. The slight tremble of Mayflower’s legs brought Mark back to the present. She supported most of his weight, and the fatigue showed. As gently as he could, he straightened and embraced her, hugging her to his chest. He fought for words, but none came. He kissed the soft skin where he bit down during their fucking, hoping like hell a volcano would erupt or a river would overrun its banks and drown them all, just so he wouldn’t have to make the decision to leave again. �śHey,” Mayflower said, her voice floating back to him over her shoulder. It held a certain wispy quality, and protectiveness surged through him, ending at his stiffening cock. �śWhy do you bite when you, you know�Ś” �śWhen I come?” Mayflower’s skin warmed, and her breasts swelled against his arm. Mark smiled. �śOld habits die hard, I guess,” he answered nonchalantly, letting her feel his erection. Mayflower tilted her head, and Mark imagined the quizzical expression on her face. As with any other quality, it probably suited her lovely features better than any woman he’d ever met. And he’d met a lot of women. Damnation! By holy Athena, he didn’t need this. He needed to get back out there and do his job, find out who kept the war between the Blues and Blacks going and who wanted to kill him just for existing. �śYou’re a Return?” Mayflower’s incredulous voice surprised him. She turned in his arms and stared at him, her violet eyes reflecting her disbelief. She knew. �śThe biting, the way you heal�Śit all makes sense,” she said. Mark didn’t respond. �śHow old are you?” Mark had trouble finding his voice. Mayflower poked his forearm. �śHow. Old. Are. You?” she repeated, emphasizing every word. Her expression left no room for noncompliance. �śAbout two thousand years, give or take a decade.” Mayflower’s mouth dropped open, and Mark’s mind whirled with the possibilities of such an inviting temptation. �śThat explains a lot,” Mayflower finally said, turning her back to him. Mark raised an eyebrow. �śWhat’s that supposed to mean?” Her chuckle made her body bounce. She was laughing at him. He squeezed her, and she laughed harder. �śWhat’s so damn funny?” �śNo wonder you’re so good in the sack. You’ve had two thousand years to perfect your technique,” she said, ending with a charming giggle. Mark nipped her ear, and she let out a little hiccup. �śIt has nothing to do with technique, Mayflower,” he said. �śIt has everything to do with the partnering.” His cock grew and throbbed as he continued to kiss his way down her shapely neck. She leaned into his erection, letting it slide between her thighs. Her wetness beckoned. Mark broke their connection long enough to turn Mayflower to face him, one hand steadying her hip and the other probing the depths of her damp pussy. Mayflower leaned into his touch, moaning, and he claimed her mouth. She opened to him. �śTake me,” she said against his lips. His cock ached to be inside her tightness, feeling the velvet walls close around him and suck him in deeper. He lifted her, and her legs automatically wound around his waist, allowing him access to her slick channel. Their kiss continued until he set her down next to the wall, breathless. She seemed to sense what he wanted, facing the wall without waiting for his request. She spread her arms out above her head and leaned her cheek on the wall, the flirtatious glint in her eyes matching her sassy smile. She opened her thighs and wiggled her ass at him. �śCome get me,” she teased, and Mark lost it. He fell upon her, crushing her body with his own, running his hands up her arms and winding fingers through hers. He adjusted his hips so his cock found her pussy hole, and he filled it. Quickly. Urgently. Her muscles clamped down on him, and his engorged cock pulsed with the need for release. He thought he’d explode on the first thrust, but he made it three times�"three blissful strokes of her woman’s flesh on his – before he spilled himself inside her again. He rode out his orgasm gently bouncing into her warm, sensitive folds, massaging his teeth along her neck. Once the sweet oblivion of his climax ebbed, Mark kissed Mayflower’s hot cheek. Its ruddy red color signaled she hadn’t found her pleasure, and even with her eyes closed, her expression emanated tension from unspent sexual energy. Problem easily solved. Mark’s two fingers fit perfectly inside Mayflower. She lifted her ass to him as he played with her, moving in and out, in and out. She whimpered when he slid his fingers out of her and found her hard bud, swollen with need. He massaged it until Mayflower screamed his name, her face reflecting the sweet agony of her release. Her laughter ended with a sigh, and Mark had never heard anything so enchanting. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her soundly. She didn’t resist. If only�Ś A screech, like an animal in pain, shook the metal walls around them, and Mayflower pushed him aside. She ran for the door, her naked form tense with fear, only to be blown back away from it when the blaster destroyed door with a gust of power. Mark threw himself in front of Mayflower, who struggled to get to her feet. Dime’s flailing form came tumbling into the room, his terrified shrieks and moans heart-wrenching. He landed in front of them, writhing on the floor like a wild animal, fighting to free himself of his jeans and mesh T-shirt as if they burned his skin. Mayflower dove for Dime, but Hannah toppled into her path, her momentum carrying them across the floor and into the gurney. It toppled with a crash, and both women scrambled away from the spine-shattering noise. A familiar voice rose over the clatter, chilling Mark’s blood as a large creature grabbed him in a stranglehold and refused to let go. �śWell, Mayflower baby, it looks like your time is up.” Chapter Seven Chico’s voice cut through everything. All other noises faded around Mayflower, recognition of her ex-lover making her brain buzz. Somehow, he’d found them, and now he’d kill them. How could she let this happen to Dime? How could she let this happen to Mark? Mark. Mayflower glanced around the room searching for him through the smoky chaos until she spotted him next to the lab table, a large synthbot choking him, slowly squeezing the life out of her hero. Terror surged through her, and her body froze. The memory of the synthbot attack sizzled just beneath the surface of her weary mind, threatening to shatter it into a million pieces. Panic gripped her, tying her defenses down. Like always, the wicked voice of defeat chuckled deep inside Mayflower’s psyche, reminding her she could never win against the more powerful, ruthless creatures. But this time another voice echoed in the distance, a woman’s voice in the throes of passion, revealing herself to her lover as she cried out in ecstasy at his touch. The echo lingered, drifting through her haze until she recognized the voice as her own. Her own passionate cries slowly began to smother the cackling doubt, and emotion she hadn’t felt in years warmed her frozen limbs and spurned her to action. She threw herself on the synthbot, clawing and scratching like a wild animal. Ten times stronger than a mere human, the monster didn’t flinch at her assault. He showed no emotion at all, the big hulking lug, and continued to block Mark’s air. He might already have crushed his windpipe, but Chilly had the tools to regenerate one. She continued to fight. Mark’s fist came down on the lab table, smashing an old glass measuring cup Chilly used for mixing some of the lesser valued street drugs he sold to support his habit. A piece with a sharp edge rolled toward Mayflower and she grabbed it, jamming it into the back of the synthbot’s steel head. It should have shattered against his impenetrable skull, but whatever substance coated it began to eat away at the synthbot’s exterior coating. It dropped Mark to the ground and staggered around the room, grabbing at the back of its head. Mayflower let herself fall from its massive form and crawled toward Mark, who rubbed his neck and tried to get up. The robotic beast wailed, tearing parts of its own head away – first hair, then the synthetic coating protecting the steel alloy frame. Smoke roiled from its decaying head and, out of control, it stumbled too close to Hannah, who wept over Dime’s thrashing body. The young woman glanced up, anger flashing in her tear-filled eyes, and her ankle shot out, sending the dying brute to the floor. It crashed, posturing. Its silver skull, eyes blazing with red lights, fell back, and its mouth gaped open one last time. It didn’t move. The gust of energy from Chico’s blaster ended the revolution Mayflower started with such flair. Time stood still. No one moved. The static of silence replaced the chaos reigning only moments before until Chilly strutted through the destroyed door and clapped Chico on the back. �śWhat did I tell you, old man? Right where I said they’d be,” he said, way too cheerful for someone who’d just sentenced four people to death. �śNow where’s my payment?” Mayflower’s sorrow over the loss of her old friend to lithac erupted into full-fledged contempt at him and his habit. He’d betrayed her. She’d tried to help him, and he’d betrayed her. He’d betrayed them all, and it was her fault. Again. �śShut up,” Chico said, his voice gruff. In the split second it took for the sound wave of his harsh command to dissipate into the air around them, Chico lifted his blaster and fired a direct ray right into Chilly’s face. Chilly’s head disappeared and his body dropped to the ground. Mayflower forced the bile rising in her throat back down. Hannah burst into a new round of hysterics, and Dime lay semi-conscious on the floor, twitching. Chico hovered over them, his large frame giving him a distinct advantage, and brushed his jet black hair out of his violet eyes. He glared at Mayflower. �śWhere is it, Mayflower? Give me what I want, and you all live,” he said, trying to make his voice sound reasonable without much success. If there was one thing Chico had never been, it was reasonable. �śI’d gladly oblige, you piece of shit, but I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Mayflower snapped, her temper getting the best of her. Chico stepped forward and placed the blaster at Dime’s head. �śWhere is it, you stupid bitch?” Chico demanded, fingering the trigger. Mayflower had no idea what he talked about, but she had to do something. Goose pimples raised on her naked body, rather out of fear or from the cold air pouring through the door, she had no idea. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mark clench and unclench his fists. �śWait a minute,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. �śI hid it back at your club.” Chico eyed her with suspicion. �śWhy there?” Mayflower shrugged. �śBecause that would be the last place you’d think I left it.” Chico never blinked, but his smile turned wicked. �śHow ironic. The one thing that will give me all the power in the world over the Blues, and it was right under my nose all along. How about we go get it, Mayflower? Just you and me?” he said, his tone maniacal. He lifted his blaster toward Hannah and pulled the trigger, but a piece of the synthbot’s head knocked the weapon from his hand before it could discharge. Furious, Chico charged Mark, who stood solidly in his path. Mark didn’t flinch, but waited until Chico got about a foot away before slashing back and forth in the air in front of him. Chico grabbed his throat, blood spurting out over his fingers, eyes big. His fury turned to fear, then realization as he collapsed on the ground, blood pooling around him. His eyes never closed. Mark tossed a piece of broken glass, covered in blood, on Chico’s body. He looked at Mayflower. �śSo what exactly did you do back when�Śwhen you�Śyou know�Ś” Mayflower stammered, fighting for words. �śI was taken at Thermopoly,” he said simply, as if people get turned into vampires every day. Well, maybe back then they did. �śI was a Spartan soldier.” Mayflower could have sworn she saw hurt in his eyes when he said it, but he masked it well. His jaw muscles tensed and his brows furrowed. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. Mayflower tried to remember her ancient Greek history. Thermopoly. Greeks versus Persians. Spartans were the elite soldiers. So many thoughts whirled through her head, but one surfaced, bring with it a pang of loss. Only Spartans with sons were sent to fight because they had heirs. Mark must have had a son, too, when he was given the virus. He probably wouldn’t have been able to go back to his family. Mayflower recognized the haunted, hollowness in his eyes. Nothing, however, explained the simmering anger there also. �śWe need to get going,” he said, his monotone breaking the spell. He glared at her. �śWhere?” �śBack to Chico’s club. You’re going to get whatever it is Chico wanted you to get.” Mayflower shrugged. �śBut I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about.” Mark grabbed her upper arms and squeezed hard. �śI think you’re lying.” �śWhat? No, Mark, I�Ś” �śCall me Jove,” he said, his voice rough. �śAnd get these two ready to travel. We leave in fifteen minutes.” Chapter Eight Mark refused to look at her on the way to Chico’s club. Worse, he refused to speak and pulled his arm away if Mayflower tried to touch him. He seemed convinced she knew what Chico had wanted. Most of the time Chico himself didn’t know what he wanted, so how could she? Dime sat in the back of the ambulance, back to his old self. Once they’d given him his computer back, he’d reverted. Hannah sat beside him, her head on his shoulder, watching his screen with her hand on his arm. He didn’t seem to mind at all. Mayflower’s body ached for Mark’s reassuring touch. For the first time since she met him, she felt unsafe. She empathized with the enemies he’d faced in battle. He made a much better friend than enemy, and a much better lover than anything else. Her pussy dripped. She’d been able to salvage some of her clothes from Chilly’s place�"more mesh and tights�"and managed to outfit Hannah in something functional, though downright bizarre. The orange tights and black tank top with a sweetheart neckline covered her much better than her short, see-through Blue Honey uniform. For the first time since she’d known him, Dime focused his attention in one place for more than five seconds, and that place was Hannah’s cleavage. Mark hadn’t fared as well. He wore his pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt Chilly’d taken from a patient who couldn’t pay. His attire wasn’t what one would call battle ready. It showed his muscular arms and thighs, his tight ass, and his big cock. How he thought he was going to get through Chilly’s guards to find some mysterious object without something more substantial covering him mystified her, unless he planned to seduce his way in. Returns, once cured of their vampirism, didn’t have the superhuman strength or most of the other characteristics they possessed while infected. Adjusting to being a mere mortal again led to the untimely demise of many. Mark probably didn’t have much adjusting to do, having been a Spartan soldier. Mayflower’s stomach fluttered and her neck tingled, but she willed it away. Visions of him in the heat of battle, fighting the enemy, returning from long journeys into the arms of his wife, who looked way more like Mayflower than she cared to admit, flashed through her mind. Her body hummed, on fire for the man sitting next to her, ignoring her. She peeked at him, but Mark stared straight ahead. She’d tried to convince him when they all piled into the ambulance again that going up against Chico’s guards was suicide. She’d been his lead performer for years, singing and dancing, setting the stage for some of his most important transactions, distracting his buyers. Mark had no idea who Chico was, what he was capable of, but she did. What the hell were they going to do? * * * * Chico Orlando. That son of a bitch. Chico handled the conniving Miss Mayflower. He should have known the minute she popped out of the box. How could he ever think anything else? Mark tried to relax his jaw muscles, but every time he did, Mayflower would make some loud noise and distract him. Like now. She breathed, and the nearly imperceptible scrape of her nipples against her mesh top drove him crazy. He willed his cock to still when it tried to rise. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. The sooner they made it to the Camp, the better. There he’d stash Hannah and Dime for safe-keeping, and for leverage. Mayflower, as treacherous as she’d turned out to be, did seem to care more about him than herself. Maybe that was a lie as well. Acting, it appeared, came naturally to her, except for that awful fake orgasm he’d witnessed. A green expanse surrounded by rocky coast rose into view and he readied the ambulance for landing. The extra medical supplies in the back would help the residents too much for them to ask him any probing questions, and if Dix still led the outcasts, there’d be no questions at all except when he planned to join the fight. Mark guided the ambulance to perfect landing as three figures appeared. He recognized Rocky, Melanchor, and Selena, leaders of the hard-fought revolution that no one seemed to know existed. The Blues and Blacks forgot anyone else mattered except them. Maybe that’s why the ragtag group of disabled soldiers had lasted this long. Mark sought a cure for his vampirism so he could die valiantly in battle, a fate denied him by his dead wife and her lover. Once he discovered the person responsible for keeping the rancor between the Blues and Blacks going, he’d return to this field and lead the remaining refugees in their fight against the tyranny of a divided nation. �śMark, you son of a bitch,” a familiar voice boomed. �śYou’re still alive?” Mark smiled. Dix Randall, his captain in Iraq III, wheeled his chair up as the three exited the vehicle and slapped him on the arm. �śHow you doin’, buddy?” Mark leaned down and grabbed his ex-commander in a bear hug. When he straightened, he found Mayflower staring at him, a pink blush coloring her cheeks. Her breathing quickened. It didn’t surprise him. Most women found Dix exceptionally attractive. He never wanted for pussy before or after losing an arm and a leg. His Nordic ancestry�"blond hair, crystal blue eyes and tall, lean build�"combined with his quiet authority and warm personality, captivated most men and women with whom he came into contact. Ignoring the pang of jealousy gnawing at his gut, Mark busied himself with helping Hannah move some boxes of supplies. �śI think you could have picked a mode of transport a little less obvious,” Dix said, running his fingers along the outside of the ambulance. �śThis’ll get picked up by Blues and Blacks both.” Mark shook his head. �śWe dumped the medics and I fixed the transponder before we left. I took the back airways along the coast. We’ll be good once your people strip it and repaint it. It’s yours after that.” Dix nodded and winked. He spun his chair in a circle. �śSelena! Rocky! Get a crew together!” he yelled. �śGet these supplies stored and revamp the vehicle. Melanchor, find a place for our visitors.” Dix wheeled toward a huge blue tent, throwing one last remark over his shoulder, his eyes glittering mischievously. �śCome to my tent tonight for dinner. You can amuse me with stories of your encounters, Mr. Blue Honey. Bring your girlfriend over there and we’ll fill her in on our mission here at the Camp.” Mayflower’s eyebrows raised so high Mark thought they’d slide right off her head, but she said nothing. �śShe’s not my girlfriend, Dix. She’s a Black bag chick, and we’re taking her home to roost.” He let the frosty tone in his voice convey as much as his words. Dix stopped and wheeled around, glanced toward Mayflower, whose mouth dropped open, and back toward Mark. �śYeah, right,” he snorted, and rolled across the soft earth to his tent. �śBe there or be square.” For once Mark wished Klyper Corporation hadn’t developed the symchronium alloy that allowed wheeled vehicles to navigate all terrains. He caught Mayflower’s surprised gaze and frowned. If they survived the trip to Chico’s bar, Mark decided, he’d teach her a lesson about lying she’d never forget. The problem was, neither would he. Chapter Nine Mark thought she was a Black bag chick? After she’d saved his ass twice? What the fuck? Two thousand years to learn a thing or two about people, and he comes away with nothing except a nice body and a pretty face. And the ability to make her feel safe and secure like no one in her life ever had, at least until now. Asshole. Anger boiled. So he thought she was a highly trained assassin, did he? Well, she ought to have killed him, if she could have gotten a drop on the fucker. He was too heavy, too tall, and too damn sexy. Damn. All the effort she put into keeping safe over the last several years and it all went to hell because of one really nice cock. She’d lost her mind. The woman named Selena pushed her aside roughly and reached past her into the ambulance. Her green eyes reminded Mayflower of her own, their natural color without the contacts, only Selena’s held anger. Lots of anger. Selena’s black ponytail whipped Mayflower in the face as she crawled inside and began the task of readying Dime for transport. �śMaaaaaaflooer,” Dime screamed, and banging ensued. Hannah jumped into the ambulance before Mayflower could even turn. Mayflower hustled in behind the determined young woman, who shoved Selena so hard she landed in the cushioned driver’s seat. �śDime? It’s Hannah,” she said, brushing his hair back from his face, her touch loving. He focused on her briefly before turning to his gaze to Mayflower. �śMaaa,” he said, grinning. He reached his hand out and grabbed her hair. �śMaaaafloooer.” Hannah continued to soothe away Dime’s fears. She glared at Selena, who shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, the displeasure in her expression still evident. Mayflower’s eyes brimmed with tears. This was the most cognizant she’d ever seen Dime, the most aware. Her chest ached. What had she done wrong? Memories of Mark’s spanking made her pussy tingle, and his words bounced around in her head. �śStop torturing yourself for things you can’t control,” he’d told her, and she’d let go of her guilt for a little while. How she needed him to tell her again, to make her feel secure. But he was an asshole. �śPeople like you should die,” Selena spoke finally, the gruffness of her voice indicating she most likely had a epi-plasmatic esophagus. Her left hand, waxy white, and her right foot, metallic silver, probably also possessed some of the same nanobots. Once a surgeon did a regeneration on a body part, it didn’t take much effort to patch those working cells into other synthetic body parts. It helped stave off the rejection of the different alloys by the human body. Mayflower, her attention on the slightly older woman’s prosthetics, didn’t realize at first that Selena was speaking to her, until Hannah stood up for her, challenge in her voice. �śShe’s not his real mother,” she said, cradling Dime’s head against her breasts. He snuggled into her full bosom and moaned, wrapping his arms around Hannah’s waist. His computer clattered to the floor, and Hannah blushed. Mayflower bit back a chuckle. Though the anger in Selena’s eyes subsided some, they still held suspicion. �śI’m not a Black bag chick, either,” Mayflower added, gathering up Dime’s equipment and preparing him to move. Selena snorted as she lifted herself out of the chair and picked up Dime’s various items. �śI know,” she said with a huff, and Mayflower bristled. �śWhat’s that supposed to mean?” Selena looked her square in the eye as she handed her Dime’s mouse. �śLet’s just say I’ve met one,” she answered, pulling up one side of her blue cargo pants to reveal the rest of her cybernetic leg. �śYou don’t qualify.” Mayflower trembled. The synthetic leg reminded her of the synthbots, and though she’d managed to overcome her phobia during Chico’s attack, she still wasn’t used to dealing with it on the spot. Selena tilted her head and her mouth formed an �śo.” �śSynthbots?” Mayflower nodded, her mind numb. Selena nodded back, comprehension and compassion replacing all else in her demeanor. Only the familiar chore of coaxing Dime to move kept Mayflower’s mind intact. Selena helped her and Hannah, and between the three of them, they managed to relocate him to a small building just across the parking lot from an old landmark, the Korean Bell. A young man with two prosthetic arms and an ear the same color as Selena’s hand guided them to an empty corner, one where Dime and his equipment fit perfectly. Around the yellow room, stands with remnants of glass cases stood. Once containing artifacts from Korea, they’d long been looted. By each of those stands sat a neural trauma victim, six in all, and all like Dime. Out of the six, only two were still children. Mayflower guessed the others ranged from the late teens to the early thirties. She gulped, relief trying again to spill out through her tear ducts. She’d always wondered if Dime might make it past his twenties. So, the potential did exist. She gulped again. �śSam? Please get Hannah here some bedding,” Selena addressed the young man who helped them with her gravelly voice. �śShe’s Dime’s helpmate.” Selena motioned to Hannah. �śIsn’t that right, dear?” Hannah, obviously conflicted, wrung her hands in front of her and bit her lip until Mayflower smiled and cocked her head in Dime’s direction. Hannah squealed and rushed to his side, curling up beside him and sighing. Mayflower gave Dime a peck on the forehead and left with Selena, satisfied with Dime’s arrangement. Unfortunately, now she had nowhere to sleep. Chapter Ten �śShe’s got to bunk with you, Mark,” Dix said, shrugging as if he had no control over the situation. Mark knew better. �śWe just don’t have enough room for her anywhere else.” �śYou want me to sleep with an assassin?” Mark retorted, snorting in disgust. �śShe’ll kill me and then everyone else here.” Dix looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had. Thinking clearly had been a struggle lately. Thinking about plunging into the beautiful Black’s wetness while she screamed his name hadn’t been difficult at all. �śIf you were that worried about it, why did you bring her here and put us in danger? You’re too good a soldier for that. You know as well as I do she’s no more an assassin than that neural trauma kid you brought with you. You’d have to be an idiot to mistake her for one.” Mark cringed inside. If she’d popped out of her pleasure synth box in his tent, Dix would have pegged her for a bag chick, too. But she didn’t pop out there; she popped out in his apartment. Into his world. Into his life. �śNo,” Mark said again, a little too loudly. �śIt’s settled then. She bunks with you. I’m not moving Selena into another tent. Not after it took me six months to convince her to move into this one.” Mark understood. Dix had a thing for Selena even when she served under him in the Iraq III, but military guidelines didn’t allow him to act on it. After she got injured by a bag chick fighting for the Iraqis, Selena refused his advances. Dix kept after her until she, like the other walking wounded at the Camp, came to realize her injuries meant nothing. She was a beautiful, desirable human being inside and out. Mark sighed, resigned to his fate, the clammy cold ruling out any idea of sleeping outside. He’d bunk with Mayflower tonight and tomorrow they’d venture forth, probably both get killed trying to find what Chico died for, trying to find the one thing having the potential to end the conflict between the Blues and Blacks. At least he’d found a place for Hannah and Dime, though he had no idea why he’d secured them here. Yes, he did. He’d done it for Mayflower, and she’d betrayed him. She’d failed to mention she’d been Chico Orlando’s girl, and no one came away from Chico undamaged. He’d learned that lesson the hard way back in Iraq III. Maybe she didn’t realize it, but she’d betray him sooner or later, and he’d had enough betrayal to last his share of lifetimes – his and many others. The sooner he died in combat, the better. He banished all bleak thoughts as he and Dix finished dinner, a merry event including war stories and too much vodka. By the time the orange sunset signaled night had fallen over the dreary landscape, Mark decided he’d ingested enough liquor to deaden his libido. No matter how much he wanted Mayflower, his dick wouldn’t work and he’d be immune to her feminine tricks. Time to get some rest and prepare for battle. * * * * After checking on Hannah and Dime, Mayflower tried to go to sleep before Mark got to their tent, intent upon ignoring him. For some unknown reason, he had his heart set on trying to get them both killed just because of some grudge he developed in the last seven hours. The cold seeped into Mayflower’s bones, and she tossed and turned. Even with two blankets, warding off the chill proved nearly impossible. Old Long Beach’s climate had changed over the years, and its winter, though snowless and relatively mild, presented its own kind of hardships. A quiet swish of the tent flap startled her, and she sat straight up. Selena filled the doorway, a pilox lantern in her hand. �śMayflower,” she said in her raspy voice. �śI think you should come with me.” �śWhat? What’s wrong? Is Dime okay?” Mayflower crawled around the floor of the tent furiously searching for the slippers the residents provided for her. Their hospitality still overwhelmed her. What’s theirs was hers. They made it abundantly clear. Selena laughed. �śYeah, he’s okay. Follow me.” Mayflower stumbled through the dark toward a tent she recognized as Dix’s. Selena ushered her in, directing her toward an ornately carved chair with a fancy, embroidered cushion sitting in the corner, probably a pricey museum artifact lost to history after all the looting. From the looks of the Camp and what she’d discerned so far, the outcasts and rebels scavenged for most of their belongings, so nothing surprised her. After the Great Fall, all kinds of treasures were lost to history for all eternity and turned up in the most unusual places. When pilox was discovered, it seemed to be the end of all the bad things in the world. A renewable, clean energy resource should have made life better, but it didn’t. The Blues tried to make it a commodity and the Blacks fought back, and history took a jaunt down a terrible path. Martha Washington’s shoes probably covered the foot of some lithac junkie somewhere, and finding a Renoir painting used as a table wouldn’t have shocked her one bit. Mayflower sat down with great care, adjusting the tan cargo pants and mauve T-shirt the Camp gave her so they could destroy her old clothes, hiding any evidence a Black walked among them. They hadn’t asked her to remove her hair adjuster or her purple contacts yet, but it was only a matter of time, and in truth, disposing of them would give her nothing but great pleasure. A groan drifted through the dimly lit tent, and Mayflower squinted, trying to find the source. As her eyes adjusted to the light, the outline of a couple embracing appeared before her. Two people, tall and elegant, the man’s longish light hair shining in the moonlight and the woman’s raven black hair only visible by the slight movement of its silky strands, stood with their arms around each other, kissing passionately. Wait, no. Not two people. Two synthbots. Mayflower clutched the sides of the chair to keep from falling over. Two synthbots mated right in front of her. One of the creatures rubbed the sides of the other’s face with its hands, kissing it with great skill, while the other lifted its leg to the larger creature’s waist and wiggled closer. Mayflower’s vision blurred. How could this be happening? �śOh, Dix,” the shorter synthbot gasped in a low voice, and Mayflower recognized Selena. Curiosity salved her fear enough she leaned forward and examined the scene more closely. Dix and Selena. Not two synthbots. Just Dix and Selena. Dix faced her, pulling Selena in front of him, exposing her exquisite body to Mayflower’s view. He held her hips possessively as she leaned into him, her head back against his shoulder and her eyes closed. His eyes blazed, his gaze never leaving Mayflower’s, as his hands traveled along Selena’s waist to her breasts, pinching and massaging her nipples. �śMayflower,” Dix spoke, his voice husky with desire. �śSelena thought it might be helpful if you saw us together. Saw people with cybernetics who weren’t synthbots. Would you like to watch?” Mayflower got to her feet, her legs still numb, and walked toward them as best she could. Dix’s legs below his upper thighs were made of the same material as Selena’s, but from her vantage point, she noticed his scrotum behind his large, engorged cock. He was all human with cybernetic parts, just like Selena. Mayflower breathed a sigh of relief. Warmth flooded her cheeks after she realized she stared at the naked pair, but Mayflower didn’t want to stop. They fascinated her, their human beauty only enhanced by their prosthetics, and though she liked being watched more, viewing other couples having sex always excited her. Tonight she needed some excitement. Dix swept Selena into his arms and carried her to the bedding on the ground, laying her down gently. His legs, though metallic, made no sound, no clicking or swishing. Probably because of the alloys they were constructed with at Klyper Corporation. For all the terrible things her father’s company had done, he did manage to do some good. God rest his miserable soul. Mayflower stepped closer and dropped to her knees, ogling Dix and Selena as they stroked and caressed each other. Dix’s expert touch brought Selena up off the floor, her back arching as his fingers masterfully entered her. Dampness coated Mayflower’s thighs and her nipple ached. Mark’s visage floated through her hazy brain no matter how hard she tried to ignore him. Selena used her human hand to fondle Dix’s balls, caressing them. She ran her nails up and down his hard cock, running her thumb over the tip, smearing the droplet of pre-come over the head. When she lifted her hand to her mouth and sucked her thumb, a low groan escaped his throat. Dix spread Selena’s thighs, crawling between them as her fingers tangled in the sheet. His face disappeared in the juncture between her thighs and Selena gasped. Mayflower heard another moan, and realized it came from her. Her pussy ached, and without thinking about it, she’d let her hand wander down between her thighs. She fingered herself, rubbing her hardened clit as more cream dripped from her swollen pussy. Dix kissed his way up Selena’s belly, letting his tongue flick in and out of her navel. His lips tortured her breasts next, suckling her nipples and kissing their ample swell. She massaged the hard muscles of Dix’s upper arms, lifting her pussy to him, encouraging his sweet invasion. He entered Selena, his hard length sliding in easily, and Mayflower’s finger slipped inside her tight hole. As she watched Dix riding Selena, her hips lifting into him as she whimpered for more, her own strokes grew harder and faster. She reached her peak, the waves of sensation coalescing into an explosion of ecstasy that rocked her body, shaking her, releasing her. Selena yelled as Dix lifted into her one last time, suspending them both in the air, taking her to the pleasure zone before he spilled himself into her, his come filling her and dripping between them onto the sheets. Mayflower relaxed, her orgasm ebbing as she watched them enjoy the waves of bliss. Dix collapsed on top of Selena, who giggled and wrapped her legs around him, her synthetic limb hooking at the ankle with her other leg. �śGod, woman,” Dix said, laughing and nuzzling her neck. Selena reached out and patted Mayflower’s arm. No words passed between them, but none was needed. Anything Selena asked of her, she’d give. �śGo to him, Mayflower,” she whispered. �śConvince him you are his for eternity.” Except that. Damn. Didn’t she realize Mark didn’t want her? Mayflower patted Selena’s hand and left the couple in each other’s arms, drifting off to sleep. She used the pilox lantern to navigate her way back to the tent designated as theirs. She slipped through the opening as quietly as possible, the scent of vodka tickling her nose. Mark lay on the ground, his still form looming large in the semi-darkness. Mayflower crawled beside him, trying not to wake him. She didn’t need to be turned out into the night, and she didn’t need any bullshit. Still, the urge to snuggle up to his warmth tempted her beyond all reason. She slid under the covers and burrowed in. Mark didn’t move. The flat pillow provided little in the way of comfort. Mayflower tried to lay her head on it, but something hard poked her. She felt around, her hand connecting with the unmistakable outline of a blaster. �śDon’t touch it unless I tell you to,” Mark’s voice carried over to her side of the bedding. Mayflower stilled. She didn’t know if he could hear her rapid breathing or not, but to her, it roared through the silence between them. He trusted her enough to give her a weapon. That was something. A twig cracked, and Mayflower’s instincts kicked in. She reached for the blaster, just in case. Suddenly, Mark’s body pressed hers into the floor of the tent and his hand slid across her body. His fingers clasped her grip on the blaster, and his warm breath tickled her ear. �śIt’s just Anderson, the guard,” he said. �śOh.” Mayflower relaxed her grip on the blaster, but Mark didn’t move. As a matter of fact, he snuggled closer. �śYou’re drunk,” Mayflower whispered. Nothing else came to mind. �śNo, I tried to drink away my need to fuck you senseless, but it didn’t work. I can’t really get drunk, not after being infected.” Mayflower allowed her body to mold to his, her pussy twitching. Desire fluttered in her tummy. �śSo, is all of it true? About being a vampire, I mean.” Mark kissed her neck as his fingertips traced a path around the tip of her breast. A strange, liquid sensation started at the top of her head and worked its way through her body. The flutter in her stomach blossomed into full-fledged need. �śSome of it’s true, most of it is bullshit,” he answered, pinching her nipple. Her back arched and her ass instinctively settled next to his groin, eliciting a low rumble. His erection poked her and her pants suddenly felt tight and restrictive. �śSo if you’d pissed me off when you were still a vampire, I couldn’t have run a wooden stake through your heart and killed you?” Mark grunted, nipping her ear. �śIf I stick a wooden stake in your chest, you’ll die, won’t you? Most people would.” �śOh.” �śDo you want to kill me, Mayflower?” Mayflower struggled onto her back and rolled over to face Mark. Even in the darkness, she swore his eyes glowed like beautiful amber with fire behind it. �śIf I wanted to kill you, Mark, you’d be dead,” she answered simply. She stroked his face, noticing the tense muscles in his jaw. �śWhy the fuck do you think I want you dead?” �śYou’re Chico’s girl, and Chico Orlando and I didn’t exactly get along.” Mayflower inched closer, sliding her hand into Mark’s T-shirt. She rubbed the hard muscles in his neck. He didn’t try to stop her. �śOrlando? Chico’s last name was Orlando?” Mayflower almost laughed. Chico certainly didn’t seem like an Orlando, at least, none of the fops she knew. Or maybe he did. He always tried to be something he wasn’t. Sane, for one. �śYou were fucking him and didn’t know his last name?” Mark’s tone carried an edge of something Mayflower wasn’t sure she liked. For a guy posing as a Blue Honey, he sure had a strange sense of propriety. �śI didn’t want to know his last name. I didn’t want to marry him. He was a means to an end. I had something he wanted, and I used it to keep Dime safe as long as possible.” By now, Mark had removed Mayflower’s cargo pants, and the head of his cock played between her soaked pussy lips. �śWhy don’t you show me what that was?” Mark suggested, his voice husky with desire. Mayflower claimed his mouth as he entered her, needing the feel of his lips on hers, the security of his kisses. His tongue mimicked his cock’s slow, delicious rhythm, and pleasant tension pooled in Mayflower’s pussy. Her muscles gripped him as his slow, leisurely thrusts created wonderful friction on her clit. It swelled. �śSorry, I don’t feel like singing and dancing right now,” she managed, pulling up her top and rubbing her tits across Mark’s crisp chest hairs. �śI bet I can make you sing, baby,” Mark challenged, his sexy timbre vibrating through her body. He lifted her leg over his hip, going deeper, and hot need replaced rational thought. Mark fucked her, his vodka-flavored kisses making her dizzy. She lost track of anything except Mark’s hands holding her hips steady and his cock entering her over and over again. �śMayflower, come for me, baby. Sing for me,” Mark coaxed as they neared completion. Mayflower came, yelling his name, her nails digging into his strong arms. Mark spurted inside her, warming her as his come gushed in wave after wave. Desperate to find his mouth, she kissed his face�"his cheeks, his nose, his eyes�"until she finally found his lips and settled there, lost in complete contentment. * * * * A feeling overwhelmed him as Mark held Mayflower, something he’d not experienced before. Contentment? How would he know? It’d been so long�Ś Mark’s plan to ingest enough vodka to dull his senses and avoid the wild need making his cock twitch failed miserably. The minute Mayflower’s unique woman’s scent hit his nostrils, his body went into overdrive. She’d been in Dix’s tent. Something happened there. Something that excited her, the woman he wanted beyond reason. He trusted Dix enough to know it was a good thing. In the end, Mayflower came back to him, even though he’d acted like a brute. He reveled in the way Mayflower fit in his arms, the way she responded to his touch. The way she trusted him. Now he had to trust her. �śMayflower,” he whispered, and she stirred, murmuring into his neck. He hated to wake her, but he had to ask some questions. Lives besides theirs depended on it. �śHmmm?” She snuggled into him and kissed his neck. �śDo you have any idea what Chico thought you hid?” Mark tried to phrase it delicately, considering his earlier behavior. Mayflower sighed. �śSo you believe me now?” �śYes.” She paused, as if struggling for words. �śGood, but I still have no idea what the hell he was talking about. I don’t know what I’d done if he’d forced us back to the club.” She lifted herself away from him, balancing on one elbow. Her fingertip traced a path around his nipple, and his cock hardened. He enfolded her hand in his and kissed the fingertips. �śCan you tell me how you came to be Chico’s girlfriend?” Mayflower plopped onto her back, tugging her hand away. �śThose are some bad memories you’re asking me to relive just for your curiosity,” she finally said. �śEspecially since you have a rather unique sexual history yourself there, sport.” The angry edge in her voice almost masked the hint of sadness in her voice, but not quite. �śOther lives depend on it, or I wouldn’t care.” Ouch, his words sounded a bit harsh, even to his own ears. It didn’t come out the way he intended, but maybe it was for the best. Mayflower scooted away and turned over. Her muffled, angry voice grew louder as she spoke. �śA few years ago, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Three synthbots attacked me, trying to tear me limb from limb. A good Samaritan interrupted them, and they left me for dead. I was in a coma for a month, and when I came out, I was in Black territory and no one knew who I was.” She inhaled, as if trying to keep from crying. Her body tensed. �śWhen I told them my name, the medical facility threw me out into the streets. I lived there for months, slowly integrating into Black society. I found Dime in a shelter. They wanted to use him to do more neural transport. They made fun of him. You know that saying about �śa penny for your thoughts”? �śYes.” Mark pulled her over to face him, even though the darkness kept her in the shadows. �śWell, they used to joke about how Dime’s thoughts were worth at least nine cents more, hence his name. Nice folks. I hope they all die painful, awful deaths,” Mayflower finished, her voice squeaky. �śLike the Dostens?” Mark inquired casually, grinning in the darkness. She may not be an assassin, but he wouldn’t want to piss her off any time soon. Feisty as hell. He liked that in his women. Mayflower kicked him. Hard. He yelped. �śI found a job as an exotic dancer to support us,” she continued, flopping back on her side, apparently satisfied with her direct hit on his shin. �śChico spotted me. He liked me. All I had to do was fuck him on request and distract his clients during their business deals with my act. In return, he let me keep Dime with me. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, so when Chilly came along, I made arrangements. Happy now?” Mark wrapped his arm around her waist and invited himself closer. He didn’t like the image of Chico fucking Mayflower drifting through his mind. A pang of jealousy shot through him, and his arm tightened around her protectively. �śYou’re not telling me something, Mayflower. I need to know the truth. All of it.” She lay very still, barely breathing. Mark waited. She tangled her fingers in his and squeezed, as if their connection somehow gave her strength. Whatever she wanted to say didn’t come without great effort. �śMy son’s name is Michael. I was five months pregnant when the synthbots attacked me. I had the nursery nearly finished. He didn’t survive the attack. You know what it’s like to lose a son, don’t you, Mark?” He held Mayflower in a death grip, her presence the only thing keeping him from tearing the tent apart as he relived the madness that started at Thermopoly. She let him, sharing in misery deeper than any mortal could comprehend. For once in his life, Mark didn’t know what to do. No tears flowed, but the grief was astounding. For lack of any other promising course of action�"the other options being curl up in a ball and die or go kill something�"he gave in and let Mayflower take over. Chapter Eleven Mayflower took control. She’d never been in control of anything her whole life, but now she controlled Mark’s pleasure. His fate lay in her hands. Mayflower decided to free him the best way she knew how. The cold air drifted over them as she disturbed their covering on her way down his body. She kissed his nipples, flicking them with her tongue, and he flinched. A beam of moonlight glimmered through the top of the tent, right across his face. His gorgeous eyes closed, and the pain in his expression renewed her courage. She’d change his agony to joy, or die trying. She continued, massaging Mark’s taunt muscles as she progressed. She neared his cock, the musky scent of his desire intoxicating her, and lingered there. She licked his balls gently with slow, even strokes until he spread his legs to give her better access. His groans egged her on. She fondled his cock and he grew in her hand, a droplet of moisture a sure sign of his need. She kissed the head of his cock, licking the salty come from his wet slit. He grabbed her hair in his hands and shifted his body. He was hers now. All hers. He swelled, but Mayflower’s concern he might be too big for her mouth soon dissipated. She drew him in, her teeth scraping the sensitive underside of the head of his bulging cock. He cried her name and thrust, trying to fuck her mouth. She’d have none of it. Next time, he’d get the chance, but tonight she needed to show him she possessed the skills to please him. He should be able to depend on her for that, if anything. She grasped the base of his engorged cock firmly and lifted her head up and down. She stopped and sucked him hard, and more come dripped down her throat. He neared release. Mayflower crawled up his body and straddled him, their covering falling to one side. She maneuvered the tip of his stiff prick to her soft, wet folds and rubbed it back and forth before settling it on her clit and wiggling. He moaned and grabbed her hips. His breathing became ragged, and she impaled herself on his rigid cock, accepting him to the base. She rode him hard, tilting her hips back and forth rapidly, feeling him grow inside her, ready to explode. He begged for mercy. She allowed none. �śGive me everything, Mark,” she said, demanding his acquiescence with her hips. He bucked into her, wanting more and more, and she obliged. He yelled Aphrodite’s name again when he came, his seed overflowing between them as they milked his orgasm. Mayflower placed her finger on her clit, and a moment later, ripples of bliss captured her and carried her into momentary oblivion, where she stayed until he shuddered beneath her. He wept. She reached into the darkness, searching for his face, feeling for his tears. When Mayflower found the wetness trickling down his cheeks, she leaned forward, hoisting herself up, and kissed it. The more she kissed his tears away, the more flowed. His voice cracked when he finally spoke. �śI didn’t want to leave Markus with Niobe. That’s the only reason I didn’t want to leave for Thermopoly that day. I felt something bad in the air, something wicked, but a Spartan soldier doesn’t question. He fights.” Mark’s choked out more words, his chest heaving. He tried to stem the flow with his thumb and forefinger, but his tears flowed on. �śNiobe hated Markus. She’d borne him, but like Hera hated Hephaestus, she despised his existence. His crippled leg would have straightened itself out eventually. I’d had the same problem as a lad and told her so. She still hated him, hated imperfection. Hated anyone might attribute him to her as a mistake.” The sadness in Mark’s voice changed to unadulterated anger. �śNiobe knew if she hurt him, I’d never let her go unpunished. She took a lover and bribed him to find a way to get rid of me. One way or another, I wasn’t supposed to come home from Thermopoly alive.” Mayflower’s blood ran cold. She understood how it felt to be betrayed, even if the spouse didn’t realize he’d done it. It still hurt. Mark’s pain, all these years, so unbearable�Ś �śHer lover, Tangelis, wanted to put me in immortal hell. It wasn’t good enough we’d all been sent on a suicide mission. He hired a man infected with the vampirism virus to change me when I fell in battle. There’d be no glorious death for me. No �Śon my shield or with it.’ I became the walking dead. He sentenced me to hell.” His voice trailed off as he if wandered back in time. Mayflower understood now. She’d read her history. A Spartan soldier trained for no other purpose than to die for his city-state. Denying him such a death reeked of pure evil. �śNiobe murdered Markus the minute she got word of my �Śdeath.’ I walked in my home and kissed my stunned wife, who tried to convince me no blood stained her hands. I almost believed her, but Tangelis ran in to warn her just I thought to re-sheath my sword. I ran her through while holding her in my arms, then slammed her into him and skewered both of them into the wall. I walked out and never returned.” His voice held such a dangerous edge, Mayflower shivered. She started to say something, but thought better of it and clamped her mouth shut. �śI can only imagine what you must think of me, Mayflower,” he said, his voice dull, lifeless. �śI think I’m glad you didn’t get that pissed at me, especially around the pleasure synth box. Ouch.” Hell, she’d have done the same thing if her situation had been different, if Jeffrey had known she still lived and married her sister anyway. Mark’s wife murdered his son and wanted him dead. He was out of his mind with grief. Shit. Talk about torturing yourself. �śMark, I think you can claim extenuating circumstances,” Mayflower comforted, and he finally relaxed, just a little. She’d give him some time. She’d only had a few years of being weighed down with her grief and guilt. He’d had twenty centuries. She adjusted his head next to her breasts and snuggled up to him. He needed to rest and so did she. Tomorrow they’d go to Chico’s club and find whatever it was everyone was willing to kill for. Then, if they made it out alive, they’d take on the rest of the world. Together. * * * * Sunlight flirted with Mark, flashing in his eyes through the hole in the top of the tent and waking him from one of the most sound slumbers he’d experienced in years. Not so groggy he didn’t remember last night, he reached for his beautiful bedmate. She’d disappeared. Relief replaced the momentary fear he experienced. They were at the Camp, safe for now. He rolled off the bedding and got to his feet, pulling on the worn-out jeans and T-shirt the residents scrounged up for him, along with some fairly new sneakers. After splashing some water on his face, he stepped into the sunlight and squinted. His body told him it was about eight o’clock in the morning, and his stomach told him he’d better feed it soon. He headed toward the Camp’s food tent to get some toast or whatever they had available, making a mental note to transfer his life funds to Dix in case he didn’t make it back from Chico’s club. He came upon the food tent, and the most beautiful sight greeted him. Mayflower and Hannah sat with Dime, who fed himself, though not too well, from a plate of eggs. The sun danced off Mayflower’s shiny black hair, giving her an aura. Very appealing. His cock rose. Mark sat down quickly, and Mayflower smiled at him. Her black lipstick and eyeliner gone, she looked like any other beautiful woman sitting at a sidewalk café in Paris or Rome. Beautiful. Sensual. His. Something in his stomach flip-flopped, but before he considered it further, Dix wheeled up behind him and slapped him on the back. Selena sat eggs in front of him, and situated herself in Dix’s lap, sharing a piece of toast with him as they talked. �śSo you two are going to Chico’s club, are you?” Dix asked nonchalantly. �śThink you might need some help with that.” The second part was more of a statement than a question. �śI’m going. Mayflower’s not. She’s staying here, where it’s safe,” Mark announced, and Mayflower’s smile faded. Uh-oh. �śI am going,” she said, anger flashing in her pretty violet eyes. �śYou don’t need to go. You have no more idea what we’re looking for than I do.” �śBut, I�"” Mayflower sputtered. �śI want to go. You said people’s lives depended on it.” Mark and Dix exchanged glances. Dix spoke first. �śThey do, but I’m sending a contingent with Mark. Three good men and a woman. All good soldiers. All volunteers.” Mayflower’s face turned three shades of red. She hadn’t felt this helpless in, oh, at least eight hours. She hated being helpless. She’d psyched herself up to go, to possibly die with Mark, which seemed kind of romantic to her way of thinking, and now they blew her off. �śMaaaaa,” Dime chimed in, egg spilling from his mouth. Hannah handed him a napkin and urged him to use it. He patted his mouth and threw it down. �śMaaafloooer husband gone.” He returned to eating as if he’d said nothing significant at all. Everyone stared at Mayflower, waiting for an explanation. She shrugged and pretended to be intensely interested in the hem of her shirt. �śHusband?” Mark spoke first, anger oozing from the one single word. Mayflower sighed. They’d probably find out sooner or later. How embarrassing it was, though, like something out of a soap opera. �śAll right, all right. After the synthbot attack, nobody knew who I was and when I didn’t return home after a month, my husband had me declared �Śdead in proxy due to synthbot error’ and married my sister. End of story.” �śWhat a dick,” Selena empathized, and Mayflower nodded, not looking up. �śYep, I’d have to agree.” Mark reached out, touching Mayflower’s hand as she glanced up at him from under her thick lashes. By holy Aphrodite, was she beautiful. �śHow did you know this happened?” Dix questioned her. �śDid someone tell you?” �śChico told me when we hooked up, but I never believed him. I sneaked back to the Blue side and saw it for myself.” Dix’s eyebrows furrowed. �śYou sneaked back? You know a way back to the Blue side?” Her eyes widened. �śOf course. I thought everyone knew how to get back across.” Mark squeezed her hand. He jumped up from the table, ran around it and hoisted her into his arms. He kissed her until they were both breathless. �śMayflower, I think you just saved us a trip to Chico’s club,” Selena rasped. �śWhat? How? I don’t understand.” �śChico probably finally figured out you knew how to get to the Blue side without getting caught. Probably figured you had a map. It’s how the Blues transport weapons to the Blacks and how the Blacks transport their drugs to the Blues. Whoever controls it controls everything.” Dix clapped his hands and shouted orders, putting the Camp on alert. Residents scurried about making ready for their attack. �śMark, you want to lead this time, or shall I?” �śI say we lead together,” Mark suggested, the battle juices flowing. Mayflower looked from one to the other, confused. �śWhat’s happening? What did I do? What are you guys doing?” The concern in Mayflower’s voice softened something inside him. Niobe never cared if he returned from battle. Most of the time, he got the impression she hoped he’d die. He kissed Mayflower, massaging her soft, full lips with his and letting his erection poke her. �śMayflower, baby, we’re going to save the world.” Chapter Twelve For some reason, Mayflower thought saving the world would take longer. In three hours, Dix and Mark and their band of cybernetically enhanced warriors returned from their mission no worse for wear. Selena and Mayflower watched them return, and Mayflower noticed Selena stared in disbelief. Since she’d come to realize nothing fazed Selena, Mayflower decided worrying herself into a frenzy qualified as the best course of action at the time. She ran to Mark and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He seemed uninjured. Even his cock remained erect. As a matter of fact, none of the soldiers appeared even tired. Most seemed disappointed. �śDix, what happened?” Selena asked as she helped him set the mismatched odds and ends he called his gear on the ground. �śPatrols from the Blues and the Blacks took over the path last week. Diplomats constructed an agreement between their factions. There’s an uneasy peace there, but it’s stable for now.” Mayflower’s stomach churned. All this for nothing? Chico chasing her all over hell, endangering Dime and killing Chilly�"for nothing? Mark’s amber eyes searched hers, his hands on both sides of her face. �śIs there anything else Chico might have wanted? Think, baby, think. Is there anything of yours he might have thought valuable?” Her heart pounded and her mouth went dry. She had nothing except Dime. She had no clue. No family. No possessions. Wait a minute. �śI’ll be right back,” she promised, and ran for the building housing the neural trauma victims. Hannah and Dime weren’t in their usual spot, but it didn’t take long to find them. Moans led Mayflower to a room off to the side, where she found Hannah straddling Dime. The two writhed in pleasure, rocking back and forth. Apparently, fucking helped improve Dime’s verbal skills tremendously. �śHannaah, fuck me, Hannaaah,” he groaned, and Hannah did her best to accommodate him. Mayflower stood back, her pussy wet as hell from watching two people have sex. She waited until the afterglow set in before barging in. Hannah gasped and tried to cover herself, but Dime grinned. �śLove Hannaah, Maaaflooer,” he said, and Mayflower kissed his forehead. �śI do, too, baby. And I love you,” she said, stroking his hair from his face. �śDime, I need to take my necklace back, okay?” Dime reached for Hannah as Mayflower removed the smooth silver box with rounded edges and hung it around her own neck. She rushed back, hoping she’d stumbled on to something. If not, back to feeling powerless again. Mark helped unpack supplies as she rushed up, his muscular thighs working in his tight jeans. Damn, a man never looked so good. Her breasts swelled and her nipple hardened. How ironic. �śThis might help,” she said, holding the necklace out in front of Mark. He tilted his head, his quizzical expression endearing. How she loved his eyes and the way his curls bounced. An archetypal Greek god. Between this and listening to Dime and Hannah, Mayflower’s breasts ached, and her longing for Mark’s cock inside her grew exponentially as his fingertips brushed hers. He lifted the necklace to the sunlight. �śDid they give you this in the hospital after the attack?” �śYeah. My nipple’s in there. If we reattach it via nanotech, we can look at the information stored in it.” Mark pulled her to him, kissing her soundly and running his hand down to her ass. He kneaded her hips as his tongue played with hers. �śAre you sure?” She lifted her leg to his hip, trying to get closer, to wrangle his hard cock in her general direction. Alone by the Camp’s mini tank, having a brief go at it was a definite possibility. �śYes, I’m sure,” she whispered into his mouth as her pants fell to the ground. He turned her abruptly, placing her hands apart on the tank. He secured the necklace around her neck, kissing his way to her ear and nibbling. She shuddered, electricity shooting straight to her clit, and lifted her ass to him. He accepted her invitation. His fingers slid into her wet cunt, stretching her, making her ready for him. His cock followed shortly after, his girth opening her lips and gliding along her smooth, swollen channel. He played with her clit as he pummeled her, his balls slapping her ass. His fingers entwined with hers, he pumped himself into her, his heavy breathing setting her afire. Her orgasm neared, their bodies slamming together. She whimpered, and Mark pushed deeper, whispering her name over and over. �śMayflower, Mayflower,” he grunted. �śI love you.” Her world tilted. Pure feeling exploded inside her, heightened only by his climax just seconds later. His thrusts slowed, and she panted, suddenly aware they’d just fucked their brains about on a mini tank. How bizarre. Even more bizarre was she thought Mark said, �śI love you.” She could have sworn he said it, actually. Just like he yelled Aphrodite when he came. �śMayflower, I said I love you.” He did say it. She wrapped his arms around her and wiggled her ass against him. That secure, content feeling crept over her again. �śI love you, too, Jovinious Markus Artinuous,” she said, trying to get a handle on all her emotions. She reverted to what she knew best. Sarcasm. �śSo if you love me, why do you shout �ŚAphrodite’ when you come?” Mark chuckled. �śTo please the goddess of love, of course. Otherwise, I’d have bad luck in love.” �śIt took her two thousand years to hook you up right, Mark. I think you can safely assume she didn’t give a shit.” He nipped at her neck and she yelped. �śBetter late than never, my love.” She had to give him that. * * * * Reattaching her nipple with the nanotechnology didn’t hurt. The memories it stirred up did. Her nipple, excised after the attack to store information about the victim and the crime per Black procedure, contained her real identity, someone she hadn’t been in a very long time. Selena oversaw the procedure, helping Sian, the medic, when he requested. He removed the black ink, partially faded anyway from lack of reapplication, from around her nipples and set about sterilizing the area. Once he placed the nipple where it belonged, the nanobots would do the rest. The information, once activated by the re-attachment, would pour through Mayflower’s brain and download into the computer from an electrode placed near her ear. Sian offered her relaxation drugs, but Mayflower refused them. �śReady?” �śReady.” Sian carefully placed her nipple to her skin, and the nanobots immediately matched the nerve endings, expertly creating skin connections to fuse her nipple back on her breast as if it had never been removed. Without warning, the pictures began to play through her mind, and Mayflower closed her eyes against the onslaught. Hundred of images of the attack, her memory of it and all the police reports, soared along her neurons, forcing her back. Tears involuntarily sprung to her eyes and she gripped the chair arms until her fingers turned bright white. As if from a distance, she heard Mark calling out. �śCan’t you do something for her?” Then it was over. * * * * Mayflower woke up in Mark’s arms, coming from a deathlike sleep. The last thing she remembered was Sian sticking her with a needle after her blood pressure spiked. Then nothing. �śYou okay?” Mark’s voice filled her with warmth, and she snuggled into his shoulder, sighing. �śYeah, you’re okay.” The next time she woke up, darkness had descended and the moon rose high. Voices carried into the tent, where she lay alone, the memories drifting around like lazy wisps of smoke. What she saw today surprised her, but she didn’t remember why exactly. Something to do with the synthbot attack, something about it being fake. Fake. A memory plant. The whole horrible thing had been a fake scenario implanted in her brain. She recognized the scene tags; hell, she’d watched Chilly create enough of the awful things to supplement his lith habit to recognize one in an instant. She’d been set up. She hopped up, which proved to be a mistake. A wave of grogginess washed over her, but she steadied herself and stormed out of the tent. Mayflower found Mark, Dix and Selena sitting with Sian. Images played across a computer screen, but no one seemed to notice after she walked into the room. Everyone except Mark, who studied the ground, stared at her again. The intense mixture of sympathy and something she couldn’t quite identify in their gazes stopped her in her tracks. �śMaia Weston?” Dix spoke first. God, how long had it been since she’d heard her given name? �śMaia Weston Wellington?” Wow, it sounded even stranger with her married name thrown in there. �śYes, I guess that’s me. Why is everyone looking so down?” �śBecause, Maia Weston Wellington,” Mark ground out. �śI killed your son.” Chapter Thirteen Mark couldn’t bring himself to glance at Maia before he fled out the door of the Camp’s med building. He’d killed her son, just like he’d killed his own boy. Why in the name of gods did he still exist? He ran to the edge of the cliff beside the bell, staring at the water, wishing Zeus saw fit to strike him dead with a lightning bolt right then and there. But the gods showed him no mercy over the years; why would they now? Minutes passed, the cold seeping into his bones, making him shiver. His greedy search for a cure to his vampirism took the life of an unborn child. He dropped to his knees and shouted at the sky. Was it too much to ask? Klyper Corporation developed the cure, made it available, and Mark had fought so long, in so many battles. He’d grown so weary. He just wanted a chance to go to the Elysian fields with his brothers in arms. The Hundred Years War, the Civil War, every damned revolution that came along, he fought in it. Served well. Saved lives. Taught raw recruits everything he knew. All the World Wars, all the Asian conflicts. How was he supposed to know Klyper’s cure required a pregnant woman’s body to process it or that they’d use a woman without her permission? �śMark?” Mark remained facing the ocean. He deserved to die a coward’s death. He crawled closer to the edge of the cliff. Defy the gods, end it now. No shield, no battle. Just an ending. �śOh, no, you don’t, you coward!” Maia shouted, throwing herself on him, pounding him with her fists. �śYou don’t get out of this pissy-assed Greek tragedy farce if I don’t. I have to live it and so do you. I need you, you stupid heroic bastard. I need you!” Maia fell on top of him, and instinct brought his arms around her waist, pulling her under him. He trapped with his body, thrusting his leg between her thighs. �śRun from me, Maia Weston,” he choked out, kissing her. �śI’m nothing but a curse. Anyone I love dies.” �śIf you want me to run, why are you kissing me like that?” Maia shot back, grabbing his head in her hands and tugging his lips with her teeth. �śIt wasn’t your fault my sister decided to use me as a guinea pig just to get rid of me and the only heir to the Weston fortune.” Mark smoothed a tiny bit of hair from Maia’s face. The moonlight glistened in her eyes, making her appear ethereal, like a goddess. His goddess. �śWhat are you talking about?” he asked. �śMy sister wanted me dead because I carried the heir she could never bear. She wanted my dad’s fortune. She set it all up. Even planting fake memories and dumping me in Black territory. Sound familiar?” His mind whirled. No one was ever supposed to see the name of the donor, but he’d peeked. No one would have known if he hadn’t been curious. Maia continued. �śGetting my husband was an extra bonus, I guess. Just for the record, he was a dick anyway. Who the fuck marries their sister-in-law so soon after their wife supposedly dies? He was a pussy, like all the Wellingtons.” Adorable. His spirited little woman was adorable. And feisty. His cock hardened. Again. He’d never get used to wanting her. Dix’s yelling interrupted his lust. They gathered themselves from the ground, dusting each other off, and her touch threatened to undo him. After one more brush of her lips, they headed back, holding hands like young lovers on a date in the ’90s. By the time they returned, Dix and Selena were in serious discussions with Rocky and Melanchor. Dix waved them over. �śChico wanted the dirt on the Blues because if it gets out that Klyper Corporation did illegal cures, the Blues are in for a PR fiasco. With peace talks in the toilet, his gang continues to dominate the lith market.” For some reason, the way Dix stared at Maia made Mark a little uncomfortable. He leaned forward, ignoring Mark as he took Maia’s hand in his own. Mark glared. �śMaia,” Dix said, �śif we can prove this wasn’t standard operating procedure, that it was a rogue event done by an employee bent on revenge or something like that, we can offset this and save a lot of lives.” Mark stepped in front of Maia. �śI know what you’re thinking, and like hell will that ever happen,” he nearly shouted. Maia stepped in front of him, shoving him out of the way. �śSince when did you decide what I can and can’t do?” She paused for a second, biting her lip. �śUm, Dix, exactly what do you want me to do?” Dix folded his hands in his lap, and met her gaze directly. His blue eyes blazed. �śWe need you to go to the Blue side. Find the evidence we need to prove this was a one-time ordeal, whether it was or not.” Mark slammed his hand down, frustration boiling over. �śNo, dammit, I said no!” But Maia already left. Chapter Fourteen Wow, Maia’d forgotten how blond her hair really was after all these years of hiding it with the hair adjuster. And her green eyes sparkled so after she removed her violet contacts. Damn, she’d even say she was pretty, in a Blue sort of way. Maia stepped back into the building, where Mark sat, glaring at Dix, at least until she strolled in. He fixed his gaze upon her, letting it rove up and down her body. He stopped at her face, and his cheeks colored. �śHoney blond,” Maia said, pointing out her real color. �śThink I can pass for a Blue? I’m kind of looking forward to scaring the shit out of my husband – er, ex-husband.” Selena lifted Maia’s silky strands. �śSo lovely,” she murmured, as if she’d never seen long blond tresses before. Mark gulped. �śSo pretty.” Maia’s face heated. �śThank you.” A momentary silence followed, with no one speaking or moving, until Maia, never one to enjoy silence for long, clapped her hands together. �śNow let’s get going, shall we?” Everyone jumped into action except Mark, who just sat and stared, his expression unreadable. * * * * Once Dix communicated with the commanders of the Blue and Black forces along the Path, soldiers from both sides secured Mark and Maia’s transport. He’d said nothing since she’d revealed her true hair and eye color. After all they’d shared, it took so little to displease him? Hell, she’d dye her hair if it was that big of a deal. All he had to do was ask. She willed him to say something, but he tuned her out. She tried to pass it off as just his focus on the mission, but something inside her knew better. They arrived at the Weston Mansion, where a party was in full swing. It might have been, for any other family, a fortuitous stroke of luck. However, the Westons threw a party every night, regardless of circumstances. They’d probably thrown one the night Maia disappeared. Corporate relations, they called it. Corporate relations like Hannah’s father worked in when he sold her as Blue Honey. When Maia told Hannah and Dime what they planned, she asked if Hannah wanted her to give her father a message for her. �śYes,” she said in a high, squeaky voice. �śTell him to fuck off.” �śFuuuuuck off, daaaaaa,” Dime echoed. The memory of the exchange made Maia smile, even though, technically, she walked right into the lion’s den. It was her den, though. Born and raised here, she had a right to come in and destroy the family who betrayed her so easily. Besides, she really liked lions. Mark didn’t speak until they arrived at the front gate. The diplomats from both sides made sure their pilox-powered transport vehicle passed Blue society’s high standards, and found clothing suitable for a Blue society party. Maia would have preferred something that covered her ass a little better, but she’d performed in less. Besides, her assignment included distracting the guests. In this dress, that wouldn’t be difficult. Mark cleaned up well. His black tuxedo fit him to a T. For a Spartan soldier, he fit into the traditional garb of the Blues as if it were made for him. Visions of seafoam pajama pants drifted through Maia’s mind, leaving her with damp panties to show for her naughty thoughts. Could he smell her arousal? If so, he didn’t acknowledge it. Just as well. Duty called. When the guard let them pass, Mark finally spoke. �śYou’re to distract the guests any way you can. If seeing you come back from the dead doesn’t do it, that dress should.” His eyes darkened as he perused her ultra-short strapless red babydoll dress, and Mayflower’s breasts swelled. She adjusted her top, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. �śJust don’t fall out of that thing,” he remarked, his voice husky. �śAnd watch walking on those heels. They lengthen your legs, but they’re hazardous.” He cleared his throat. �śI know how to walk in heels, Mark,” she said, pulling him to her as he prepared the aircraft for landing. She kissed him hard and fast. When she let him go, he panted and the bulge in his pants showed his growing desire. Good, at least if something happened to them, she’d die knowing he’d wanted her. A tall, butler-type person greeted them, not even blinking as he scanned their invitation. Maia didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t surprise her. Margaret, her sister, went through butlers like she went through lovers. Probably some of the butlers were her lovers. Meow. Maia wrapped her arm around the crook of Mark’s elbow, and after one last lingering glance, he guided her into the party. In full swing, people gyrated to disco music and gathered in corners where low lights encouraged discreet interaction. Maia walked slowly, catching the startled glances of old acquaintances. Others turned deathly pale, like they’d seen a ghost. Well, they had. One person in particular paled when he saw her. Jeffrey dropped his drink, the glass shattering into a million pieces. Cleaning machines rushed to take care of the mess. Mark’s hand covered hers. Jeffrey stared. She felt nothing. How could she have thought she loved this miserable prick? Handsome, yes. Cultured, yes. A pussy, big yes. She thought he might pass out. Hell, he wasn’t the one returning from the dead. She was. With Margaret nowhere in sight, Jeffrey hurried toward Maia, grabbing her in a big bear hug. �śMy God, my God,” he repeated over and over, eyeing her up and down. �śMy God, Maia, honey, it’s you.” Yes, I’m aware it’s me, you goober. She fought to keep from rolling her eyes, and instead let Jeffrey lead her to the dance floor. He jerked her against him, trying, probably to make everything seem fine to his guests. Did she have a surprise for him. �śOh, Maia, I can’t believe it,” he whispered in her ear. Her skin crawled as the odor of his champagne breath tickled her neck. Ugh. His embrace was almost painful. �śBelieve it, Jeffrey.” �śDo you know about Margaret and me?” �śDidn’t take long for you to get over my �Śdeath,’ did it?” Maia’s anger boiled to the surface. The slimy bastard. The band suddenly stopped playing, and she felt the need to let loose her anger. In song. Time for some distraction – and some vengeance. She pushed Jeffrey away and hurried to the stage. Catching a glimpse of Mark slipping onto the balcony, she realized her timing had been perfect. Time to get this party started. She whispered into the bandleader’s ear, and his eyes widened. �śYes, we know that one by Rihanna,” he said. �śAre you sure? It’s a bit risqué.” �śI’m one hundred percent positive,” Maia assured the maestro. Bum bum de dum bum bum da da de dum�Śthe music cued her into action and Maia began singing Disturbia, one of her favorites. As her voice echoed through the large ballroom, guests stopped and stared. She strutted from one end of the stage to the other, vamping it up, swishing her tiny skirt and flirting with the audience. She rocked her hips to the beat, grabbed a seat and flipped it around, sitting on it backwards. By now the crowd clapped along, shaking and dirty dancing as she belted out her number. A few band members chimed in for the background vocals, and she flipped the chair back around, sitting on it spread eagle and singing to the crowd as if she told them a story. Did she have a story to tell. Her short dress covered her red panties, but her movements back and forth promised enough of a peek that the crowd swayed with her. God, she loved to perform. Jeffrey stood, paralyzed, watching her. It’d take an army to move him. The fearful little jerk. He never did have the balls to do anything himself, no matter how badly he wanted it. He�Ś Oh my God. Realization dawned as the song ended and the crowd broke into a round of applause, cheers and whistles accompanying her descent from the stage. She strolled toward Jeffrey, intent on her mission, making sure her long legs moved gracefully and her hips swayed. Time to get some proof. Chapter Fifteen The shouts and cheers faded at least ten minutes ago, but Mark found nothing in his search of Margaret Weston’s study. Maia’s voice echoed through his adrenaline-soaked brain. She certainly knew how to woo a crowd. No wonder Chico used her to distract his clients during their transactions. He leapt onto the window sill, ready to make his way along the ledge to the next room when he heard the moaning. Drawn to it, he shimmied to the next high window and peered in. He almost threw up. The sight before him disgusted him. Maia, his Maia, lay beneath Jeffrey, writhing and bucking against him in a large brass bed. Sweat broke out on his brow and his chest tightened painfully. He knew it. He’d known it all along. She never belonged anywhere but Blue society. She was too good for him, too good for the little he had to offer her. When he’d seen her green eyes, like the unusual green amber so highly prized in his own time, he panicked. No goddess belonged with a mortal, and she was a goddess. She’d been so right. Aphrodite shit on him for years, and now taunted him with an unattainable angel. He clenched his fists. She deserved more than some damaged, used up piece of meat. Her moans tore at him, threatening his sanity, and he swung away from the window. She’d been married to a Wellington, been a part of the Wellington clan. For once in his life he wished he were something more than a soldier. Being a Wellington must be a powerful aphrodisiac if she still loved the man who’d dishonored her memory so. She wanted him more than�Ś Wait a minute. He recognized that orgasm. The unusual wail caught his attention immediately, and he twisted back to the window. He’d heard it before, in Chilly’s warehouse. By holy Athena, she was faking it. Mark watched, mesmerized, as Maia, Jeffrey humping her wildly, clawed at his shoulders�"not using her nails�"and yowled the most unsexy noises he ever heard. How someone with such vocal talent as Maia could be so bad at faking a climax astounded him. It didn’t matter. Jeffrey bought it completely. He came with an �śUh huh uh huh uh huh, oh yeah,” and immediately collapsed on top of Maia, who blew a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes, her relieved, exasperated expression adorable. She extracted herself from beneath the dolt and shot toward the bathroom. Maybe fucking him made her physically ill. Then why’d she do it? Maia didn’t stay in the bathroom long. When she returned, she pulled her tiny dress on, looking as lovely as ever, and secured something in the hem. She looked straight up at him. Maia gave him the thumbs-up sign and smiled like the beguiling wench she was. She winked at him, and the flush in her cheeks and mussed hair from her carnal activity gave her a tousled appearance he found irresistible. His hard-on raged, and even before she motioned for him to meet her outside, he knew instinctively it was definitely time to go. Chapter Sixteen Slipping out of the party after Maia’s performance proved easy. They made their way back to Camp in their aircraft, Maia’s reassuring smile teasing him unmercifully. Then Mark remembered�"she liked to be watched. Her woman’s scent, her arousal, drifted between them, and his imagination ran wild. Her pussy lips drenched, pink and slick. Waiting for him to lick them dry so he could start all over again making her cunt beg for him. He brought the aircraft to a skidding halt, turning off into an alley. Leaving it in hover mode, he grabbed her hand, yanking her along behind him, and she giggled, a pretty little tinkle ruining any chance he had for fucking her senseless slowly. From behind. He wanted to take her from behind, fondling her tits while he rode her into mind-blowing ecstasy. She must have read his mind, because she positioned herself over the passenger chair and bent just enough he saw her damp panties. �śI’m not protected anymore, Mark. I had to dump my n-net to get the sample of Jeffrey’s DNA.” Mark didn’t care. His rigid length drove the moist silk aside as he rammed into her and she cried out. Kneading her hips, he set his rhythm. This wouldn’t take long. Clanking metal and a massive jolt stopped his ardent thrusts. Another jolt, and he found himself on the ground, Maia, stunned and her dress askew, on top of him. She tried to get her balance, but the next shake of the aircraft sent her rolling off him and onto her side. Metal screeched and the aircraft listed from side to side. The chaos stopped as suddenly at it began. He helped her to her feet after replacing his cock in his briefs, and they searched around them for the cause of the disturbance. �śSister, dear,” a nasal, condescending voice addressed them. �śDidn’t have time to say hi after fucking my husband?” �śHe was my husband first, you bitch!” Maia hollered, clambering forward to the telecom panel. She flipped her middle finger up at the bleached-blond, pointy-faced woman on the screen. The family resemblance was unmistakable, both physically and in the attitude. �śShut up!” Well, maybe not. Something impatient and sinister lurked beneath the cold blue eyes flashing at them from the telecommunicator. Something Mark never sensed in Maia. �śWhy didn’t you just kill me, Margaret? Why leave me alive with a fake memory? Why not let me die with my son?” Maia baited her sister, but her eyes glistened as she spoke the words. �śBecause you deserved to live and suffer. Jeffrey wanted to kill you outright. He thought we had. But I couldn’t bear to miss an opportunity to let you live the life I’ve lived, to lose something you love more than anything in the world.” Maia’s mouth dropped open. �śYou did all this because of Chance Durand? That squirrelly fucker? We were fifteen!” Margaret’s face contorted into a mask of hate and pain. �śHe was mine, Maia. You had no right to him. He wanted me until he met you!” she shrieked, slamming her fists so hard, the telecam shook and the picture blurred. Man, Mark was glad this dementia shit didn’t run in the family. Margaret’s psychosis put Nero to shame. He didn’t want Maia’s and his kids growing up around�" Maia’s and his kids? Where did that come from? �śYou crazy bitch,” Maia popped back. �śI told him to get lost. I didn’t want him, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. He was pure sleaze.” Margaret went into hysterics. �śHe loved me, and you wooed him away. Wooed him to commit suicide over you.” �śBullshit, Margaret. He fell into a pilox generator because he was a dumbass, not because he tried to commit suicide.” Margaret swiped at her tears with the back of her elegant hand, her long, red nails contrasting sharply with her pale skin. �śI’m done with you,” she sniffed, and tapped a communicator on her blouse. �śTake them to the dump!” The aircraft lurched, sending Mark and Maia both flying backwards. A blue light beamed through the windshield, and he rolled on top of her as quickly as possible, waiting for the force field to bind them. The ray paralyzed them, making any movement impossible. They lay frozen for only a few moments before the beam released and the aircraft bounced roughly on the ground, jarring Mark’s bones as he tried to keep himself from crushing Maia. She coughed when he finally fell away as the aircraft rolled on its top. The crunching began. A huge crusher bit through the front of the aircraft, obliterating it and driving them both to the back. He yanked her roughly under him as the crusher descended again, barely missing them. He tumbled with her as the machine toppled them, finally managing to secure her on top of him, both facing upward. Maia’s hair covered his face, its flowery scent reminding him of the Camp. They’d survive this and go back there together, make a life. Have children. Enjoy each new day. Of course, just one more obstacle stood in their way. Chapter Seventeen Maia screamed as the crusher came down again, turning her face away and expecting her cheekbones to splinter. Anguish at the idea of Mark dying this way, mixed with pure fury they’d die horny. Aphrodite, indeed. The large death machine stopped inches from her face and she let out a whoosh of air, relief a brief respite. When she opened her eyes and glanced down her body, two human legs bulging through tattered black tux pants, strain evident in their muscles, held the giant crusher in place, refusing to let it descend. The legs belonged to Mark. �śIf you want me to finish what we started, baby, do exactly as I say,” he ground out into her ear. Now, there was an incentive. �śI’m going to push up with my legs, and when I do, you roll out the back end, got it?” �śYou’re coming with me, right? Don’t be a fucking Greek hero!” She felt a sudden pang of panic. �śNothing is going to keep us apart,” he gasped, the wreckage creaking. �śWe’ve gotta go, Maia. Ready?” He pushed and she threw her body forward, tumbling out of the remains of the aircraft and hitting the ground with a thud. She lunged to her feet, ready to pull him out if necessary, but he executed a flip and landed on the ground beside her. Free, the hammer smashed what was left of the aircraft to bits. The skin on Mark’s legs unfurled, revealing the same metallic legs as Dix and Selena. He hovered over Maia, standing tall and magnificent, his handsome visage a study in hope. His amber eyes glimmered in the moonlight, the shredded tux enshrouding him�"a god among men. An epic hero walking the earth for two thousand years until one day, he comes across a woman he can’t resist. Well, he’d better not be able to resist her. And she and Aphrodite were going to have a little talk when this all got squared away, woman to woman like. The bitch had a thing or two to learn about love. Mark waited, still as a post. �śWhat happened?” Maia said, though she didn’t really care. She wanted him no matter what body parts weren’t original, but it seemed important to him to talk about it. �śAfter I received the cure, I figured I’d die within my first tour in Iraq III if I played my cards right. I ended up in Chico Orlando’s unit. I jumped his case for smacking around a little boy, and the next day my legs got blown off by an IED. He let me know in no uncertain terms that he’d lied about sweeping the area.” Maia tried so hard, she really did, because Mark’s intensity truly touched her. Holding back, she snickered. His eyebrows shot up and she clamped her hand over her mouth, mortified. The longer she watched him, though, the more difficult it became to hold it in. She snorted, chuckled, and snickered again. His eyes narrowed. He looked like he wanted to hit her, and she didn’t blame him. She’d want to hit her, too, if the situation were reversed. �śWhat’s so funny?” �śYou’re fucking kidding me, right? You don’t see the irony here? You get cured of immortality and end up surviving a horrific injury that would have killed most soldiers, and you were really trying to die. You put a lot of effort into it. Kinda seems like you fell short somehow. I mean –” Maia knew she was babbling, but she’d lost control. After a long pause: �śYou are the craziest woman I’ve ever met, Maia Weston,” Mark said in a low sexy, voice. He closed the distance between them in three steps. It would have taken any other man six or seven, but he wasn’t just any other man. He was hers, all hers. He tucked her into his arms, his tongue playing over her lips, tasting her. �śYou promised we’d finish what we started,” Maia pointed out. �śI did indeed, but someone might see us out here.” She trembled at the thought. �śThat’s bad how?” Mark took her. He sat down on the ground and settled her on his cock, her legs around his waist. It grew inside of her, and she squeezed her tight pussy around it. He tensed, and she angled her hips, thrusting against him. Her clit swelled, and her nipples, both of them, ached for his attentions. �śUmm, let’s see if this one works,” Mark said, suckling her left nipple. It worked all right, small shocks of pleasure shot straight to her clit. His cock did the rest of the work, rubbing her hard bud as he entered her over and over. The skirt of her tiny dress hiked up around her waist, and she watched him fucking her, their connection fully exposed in the harsh lights of the dump. He came quickly, shuddering into his climax and biting at her shoulder, nipping her skin, as she rolled her hips across his girth. He chanted her name as if it were a prayer. Her orgasm exploded in her brain, blinding her, shaking her. Mark held her there, letting her float back to earth and land in his embrace. Yes, he was definitely all hers. Chapter Eighteen Maia puffed and puffed, trying to remember the breathing exercises Sian taught her. Selena patted her brow with a cold washcloth and cheered her on. �śCome on, Maia, just one more push,” Sian urged. Maia fought exhaustion, throwing all her efforts into pushing one more time, into giving birth to Mark’s child. �śEeeeehn!” she screamed through clenched teeth, and Sian whooped. �śIt’s a girl, Maia! It’s a beautiful little girl,” he said, wetness glistening on his face. Maia joined him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Daddy’s little girl. Mark would be thrilled. A tiny cry escaped from the bundle Sian held to his chest as he clipped the umbilical cord. A sweet little chirp, followed by a coo, charmed Maia, and she fell completely and utterly in love. �śShe’s perfect,” Selena said, her hoarse voice strained by emotion. She held Maia’s hand until Sian offered the new mother her daughter. The birth of Selena’s twins, Michael and Markus, only two months before went off without any complications, but Maia had continued to worry until just this minute, this perfect moment when her and Mark’s daughter came into the world. Selena helped Sian clean up Maia and gather his things, preparing to leave, as Mark peeked in the door. A tough warrior who’d faced the worst of enemies with great courage, he’d nevertheless decided to remain outside their tent during the birthing process, just in case his presence brought back luck. Or so he said. Mark made his way to her side and stared at the tiny being in her arms. His eyes glittered, and she offered him his daughter. He froze at first, but she nodded and smiled, reassuring him. Once in his arms, their baby gurgled, and the sides of Mark’s mouth turned up. �śWe need a name,” he said, sitting on the edge of the cot. He searched her face, his amber gaze locking with hers. Understanding passed between them instantly. �śHow about Amber Sol?” Maia suggested, and he nodded. �śPerfect.” They stayed that way for an hour at least, Mark fussing over her and the baby. They’d come a long way since he dragged her out of the pleasure synth box, a long way since they’d kept the peace talks between the Blues and the Blacks from disintegrating on that night so long ago. The peace didn’t last. Two months later, a Blue named Jeffrey Wellington was found murdered before he could face charges of corporate malfeasance, charges brought about by Maia and Mark’s evidence. The blood sample they found supposedly belonging to Maia’s good Samaritan did indeed belong to Jeffrey, the DNA in his semen matching exactly. Jeffrey admitted to holding Maia down when the doctors injected her with the serum her body transformed into the cure for the vampirism virus. A lucky swipe of her hand left enough blood under her fingernails to ID him. By Blue standards, murdering your child and attempting to murder your wife didn’t rate as a crime, but putting your company at risk did. Jeffrey’s wife, Margaret, remained missing, and the case remained unsolved. The residents of the Camp continued their revolution, trying to bring sanity to an insane world and live each day to the fullest. Maia could think of nowhere she’d rather raise their children than here, with Hannah and Dime settled next to them, making a life of their own. Each day brought challenges, but she’d never been happier. �śYou must be hot and tired,” Mark said, wiping sweat from her forehead with a clean rag. She was, indeed. The Old Long Beach summer normally stayed true to form, but this year the temperatures reached unusual highs. Early morning sunrise loomed, and the air in the tent warmed considerably. Mark opened the tent flap and returned to her side. He kissed her, his full lips teasing, and longing pooled in her belly. �śI need you to rest up so we can make a little brother for Amber, you understand?” Mark settled their daughter in the crib Dix made just for her. He stretched out on the cot beside Maia, careful not to jostle her. He settled in for a nap and she leaned her head on his shoulder, utterly exhausted. Slumber threatened, but a glimmer of sunlight filtered through the hole in the top of the tent, dancing across her eyelids and flirting with her until she acknowledged its hopeful presence. And at long last, Maia Weston Artinuous enjoyed the sunrise. THE END Visit www.ravenousromance.com for more great stories by Cameo Brown.