Captured Rapture: 3 (Mercy) (3 page)

I spent my youth dumped from one
crappy Union orphanage to another. I grew up with no sense of belonging, or
with any real concept of worth, always yearning for a connection of some kind.
So many times, the stupid adolescent girl I became got her stupid adolescent
heart broken. From the moment my boobs grew too big to hide, I latched myself
onto the biggest, strongest boys I could find, seeking some semblance of
strength and protection. Craving the security I was sure I’d find in their
arms. Inevitably, they’d convince me that security could be found between their
legs.

Stupid little Raina Mynn, used and
abused and laughed at—just a pathetic GU reject with no history, no planet and
no clue.

I got a clue quickly. And yet here
I was, getting all hot and horny over a nutjob lurking about on a dead moon on
the very reaches of known space? Trouble.

I saw movement out of the corner of
my eye and bit back a growl. The head bouncer—a hulking-great hunk of a man
called Corvan Jareth who seemed to exude menace—had caught sight of us. Or more
to the point, caught sight of Fraz. Round two was about to begin.

I pushed away from the bar before Jareth
reached us. “I’m outta here.”

I’m sure you’re wondering why I
wasn’t staying to watch my partner’s back, but trust me, Fraz’s back is fine—and
nasty. And poisonous. Safety tip? Don’t chase after a Bo’aa unless you want
lots of pain.

I flicked the bouncer a quick look,
a tiny part of my mind wondering if Fraz had bitten off more than he could chew
this time—Jareth looked positively lethal—and hightailed it out of Steam. I
needed to sleep.

The usual catcalls and promises of
sexual heaven accompanied me as I walked back through Blowjob Alley. I tried to
keep my stare front and center, but before I knew it I was studying the
performances of the hookers, the pit of my belly flip-flopping, my pussy
throbbing for a mouth and tongue I’d felt more than once in my dreams.

Dreams.
Shyte.
I couldn’t
sleep. If I slept, I’d only find myself being dominated again and again by the
madman from the moon.

Stumbling to a halt, I scrunched my
face and dragged my hands through my hair. What was I going to do?

Confront him.

The way-too alluring thought whispered
through my head and my pussy throbbed some more. I felt the crotch of my
trousers grow damp and bit back a growl.

What the fuck was wrong with me?
How could I be acting like this? How could one man, one seriously fucked-up
man, be affecting me so badly? I don’t care how freakin’ sexy he was, how
goddamn gorgeous and intense and powerful, he was
not
getting under my
skin. I’d had enough.

Running my glare along the length
of fake Slessorian, cheap whores and high-priced pleasurers in their individual
booths, I found what I was looking for. Stomping up to the naked Urid’ii pro, I
fixed him with a flat stare. “Do you do women?”

Brilliant violet eyes skimmed over
me from head to toe and back again and the Urid’ii’s perfect lips curled into a
wide smile. “For you, little one,” he said, his voice deeper than thunder. “I
do.”

I swiped my credit chip, not even
bothering to ask how much. If needed, I’d pass it off as a work expense. “Make
it good,” I snapped, stepping into the Urid’ii’s open booth. “Bloody good.”

The Urid’ii touched the tip of his
tongue to his teeth, a glint of light flickering in his eyes. “Trying to forget
someone?”

I tore open my trousers, uncaring
of the entirely exposed, public situation. “Shut up and make me come.”

He grinned, placing his hands on my
hips as he lowered himself to his knees. “Yes, little one.” He inched my
trousers down, revealing my ass to all and sundry on Blowjob Alley. The cool
artificial air chilled my flushed skin and my nipples pinched into hard
pebbles, rubbing against the firm rubber of my vest. “I will destroy the memory
of the one you wish to forget, so completely you will never think of him
again.”

Oh God, if only that was
possible.

The grim thought whispered through
my head a second before the Urid’ii parted my thighs with his hands and plunged
his tongue into my folds.

And a second after that, all I
could think about was the man on the moon between my legs, fucking me with his
tongue.

I was
so
in trouble.

My orgasm smashed through me about
ten minutes later. I threw back my head, my blunt, no-nonsense nails digging
into the padded side rail of the Urid’ii’s station, and screamed.

A name.

I’m pretty certain I don’t have to
tell you
what
name, but let me give you a hint—it wasn’t “Fraz”.

Fuck.

And then, just to throw even more
insane shit into the mix, the Urid’ii pulled away from my throbbing cunt,
gaping up at me like a stunned fish and said, “You are Wyvernian?”

I looked at the man still kneeling
at my feet, the ghost of my orgasm evaporating immediately. “I’m what?”

“Wyvernian.” His violet eyes
flickered with unnerving light and he rose to his feet, staring down into my
face.

“What the fuck is a Wyvernian?” I snarled,
yanking up my trousers. Something about the word made my gut tighten.

The Urid’ii didn’t answer. Instead,
he said something even more ludicrous. “You are in your mating cycle.”

I punched him.

Smashed my fist against his
chiseled jaw, to be precise. I don’t know why, but when an Urid’ii pro brings
you to a screaming orgasm on a public thoroughfare and then claims you’re in a
friggin’ mating cycle, what else can you do?

Especially when your stomach
twisted more with each incomprehensible word?

“I have no idea what you are
talking about,” I snarled (yes, I seemed to be snarling a lot, I realize that).

The Urid’ii smiled, rubbing at his
jaw. “I’m sure you’ll find out.” He lowered his head closer to mine. “If you’re
prepared to burn.”

Now that made less sense than everything
else he’d said. I glared at him one last time and turned away, my
unexpected-name-screeching orgasm now just a distant memory.

Clearly, I was screwed.
Masturbating in the shower hadn’t fixed my problem, oral sex with an Urid’ii
pro hadn’t fixed my problem, and now here I was, wondering what in all the
hells a Wyvernian could be and why a cheap hooker on a space station thought I
was one.

The only options I had left, it
seemed, were…

A) Find an Ezelian dream invader
and pay him to remove the lunatic on the moon from my subconscious (risky and probably
a little extreme).

B) Find a real Slessorian and blow
my entire credit balance on sex so good, I wouldn’t even know who I was afterward,
let alone what a Wyvernian was or who Torr could be (tempting, but very, very
expensive).

C) Go back to the moon and kill
Torr (again, tempting, but not so painful on the credit balance).

Or D) Go back to the moon and throw
myself at Torr’s feet, begging him to do to me everything he promised he would
(fuck, that was even more tempting, but insane and stupid as well).

None of these options would help me
discover why the Urid’ii pro reckoned I was in a mating cycle. Or tell me how
I’d find the answer if I was “prepared to burn”. And they sure wouldn’t help me
track down the spice dealer Fraz and I were supposed to be arresting.

As I said, clearly screwed.

Think, think, think.

I turned my attention to the stream
of pedestrians filling Blowjob Alley. “Excuse me,” I said, stepping into the
path of one particularly officious-looking Antillan decked out in a medico’s
uniform. I gave her a friendly, apologetic smile. “Can you tell me what a
Wyvernian is?”

The blood drained from the
Antillan’s face and she gasped, spinning on her heel and hurrying back in the
direction she’d come from.

I cocked an eyebrow. Huh. Not the
reaction I’d expected.

Stopping another passerby, this one
dressed in a merchant’s garb, I posed the same question.

Another gasp, this one accompanied
by a strange flurry of hands over his chest. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think
the Maylarian had suddenly found religion. I watched him scurry away into the
crowd, and I frowned. This was getting ridiculous.

Patience running thin, I whipped
out my right hand and snatched the upper arm of the closest life form, jerking
them before me.

The life form was one of the Echo
brothers. “Hey,” he protested, tugging at my grip. “Do you know who I am?”

I glared at him. “By the mediocrity
in your eyes, I’d say the fifth.”

He blinked, a look of absolute
indignation flashing across his face.

There were ten Echo brothers on Port
Mercy. Ten-tuplets (is that even a word?). All from the same litter. Each tried
their best to set themselves apart from their brothers. To a cop’s trained eye,
each failed. From what I’d observed in my sixty-one days on the station, each
thought he was better than his siblings. This one, going by his righteous
anger, more so than the others.

“How dare y—”

I cut him off with a low growl.
“Tell me what a Wyvernian is, or I will throw you into the nearest sex cubicle,
chain you buck naked over a whipping stool with a rose in your mouth and inform
the reporter from the
Watcher
you have a secret you want to share.”

His face went white, though from my
promise or the word “Wyvernian”, I wasn’t sure. Didn’t care either. As long as
I got my answer.

His mouth worked silently for a few
seconds, making him look like a drowning fish, and then he licked his lips and
stammered something I was pretty damn certain I’d misheard.

“Say that again,” I snapped,
sinking my fingers into the underside of his arm.

“Dra-dra-dragon shifter,” he sputtered,
trying to escape my grip.

My eyebrows shot up my forehead.

Dragon shifter? Surely he was
kidding? Dragon shifters were a myth. The product of a deep-space explorer’s mind
gone mad from too much time in…well, deep, deep space.

What, like the deep, deep space
found around Mercy?

I didn’t like that. Didn’t like the
twisting knot in my gut either. Or the way my chest felt heavy and my throat
grew tight.

Dragon shifter.

I shook my head, turning my gaping
stare into a glowering glare. “Don’t joke with me, Echo, or you’ll find
yourself floating in space without a helmet.”

Echo shook his head, the color
still not returning to his face. “No one on Port Mercy would joke about the
Wyvernian.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So you’re
telling me dragon shifters exist.”

He shook his head again, and I felt
positive his eyeballs were going to bounce right out of their sockets. “No, no,
no,” he gushed. “The GU destroyed them all over three centuries ago.”

“So what’s with the abject terror?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple
jerking up and down. “The Wyvernian swore bloody vengeance for their genocide.”
His stare flicked nervously toward the thin stretch of viewing glass running
the length of the wall opposite Blowjob Alley. “There’s a story about Mercy’s
second moon being haunted by the last of the Wyvernian.”

I couldn’t help myself, I burst out
laughing. “Ghost stories? Everyone’s been pissing their pants over a ghost
story?”

Echo shook his head again, this
time with such vehemence I felt my shoulder joint shudder. “Laugh all you want,
but trust me when I say that destroying the Wyvernian is the only good thing
the GU has ever done.”

He tugged against my grip on his
arm, eyes still nervous, agitated, and I let him go. He ran away from me. I kid
you not. He bolted, leaving me standing in the middle of the thoroughfare with
a bemused smile playing on my lips.

I snorted. Dragon shifters. Ghosts.
Shyte.
What millennium was I living in? And yet the twisting knot in the
pit of my belly was still there. Not just there, but tighter. Bigger.

I dragged my hands through my hair,
chewing on my lip. Ridiculous. The whole thing was ridiculous.

You are Wyvernian. If you’re
prepared to burn.

The Urid’ii’s words came back to me
and I spun on my heel. I needed more answers, and so far the male hooker had
been the only one willing to stand still long enough to give them.

Trouble was, the Urid’ii’s booth
now stood empty.

Where the fuck had he gone?

Mine to claim. Mine to fuck.
Mine to—

Torr’s thoughts whispered through
my head, each syllable flaying my sanity further. My pussy began to throb, my
pulse quickened. I curled my fingers into my palms, turning my hands into hard
fists.

Mine to claim. Mine to fuck.
Mine to—

My stare slid to the viewing glass running
high along the corridor’s length and I studied the small red moon orbiting Mercy.

Wyvernian. Prepared to burn.
Mating cycle.

The lunatic who haunted my dreams,
my waking thoughts, was on that moon. A lunatic weirdo who made me hornier than
anyone I’d ever met. An insane man I swore I would never go near again.

Mine to claim. Mine to fuck.
Mine to—

The tension in my gut twisted some
more and my sex felt heavy. Wet with a need I couldn’t deny.

The ghost of the last Wyvernian…

I thought of Echo’s hurried
statement and ground my teeth. Someone was messing with me, of that I had
little doubt, but I needed answers. Whoever Torr was, whatever he was, he had
those answers.

Mine to claim.

Wyvernian. Prepared to burn.

I stared at the small moon and drew
a deep breath, pussy damp, chest tight. Something inside me had been…I don’t
know. Awakened? Something I hadn’t realized was there until the second Torr’s
lips crushed mine. Something eager for an existence I couldn’t fathom.

Wyvernian.

I needed to know what that
something was, and why it was drawn to Torr. I needed to see him again.

The realization should have made me
angry. Instead, I felt a pulling sensation in the center of my being—an eager
insistence not only in my sex, but in my soul.

Shyte
, I can’t believe I’m
admitting this. I really can’t. But the second I accepted I was going back to
the moon, every molecule in my body seemed to…seemed to…

Ah fuck. Every molecule in my body
seemed to ignite with a smoldering heat. As if readying for the inferno to come.

And I knew then, even if
I
wasn’t prepared to burn, my body was.

Which really, really pissed me off.

Stupid bloody body.

* * * * *

I didn’t alert Fraz to my plan.
What would I say? “Heya, partner. I’m heading back to the moon, ’cause you were
right. I really did have a sexual experience while off my jet cycle and now I
can’t get the lunatic who almost made me come with just a kiss outta my head,
and some male hooker on Blowjob Alley tells me I’m an extinct dragon shifter in
a mating cycle and I think I need to find the lunatic again so I can burn up.”

Yeah, like that would go down well.

I hurried about our rented apartment,
shoving my various knives and weapons into their holsters and sheaths. My body
might be happy I was going back to the deranged weirdo, but I wasn’t going in
unarmed.

And the second he takes one look
at you, the second he touches you, you’re going to forget all those weapons.

No, I wouldn’t. I wasn’t letting
Torr touch me. Not until I had some answers.

Wait, wait, what in all the levels
of hell was I saying? I wasn’t letting the madman touch me,
period
. It
was too dangerous.

Slinging my pack over my shoulder,
I snatched one of Fraz’s nastier blades from under his pillow and left. I’d make
amends to my partner later for taking his favorite weapon. Right now, I had a
lunatic to interrogate.

A lunatic who wanted to claim me as
his destiny.