DemonicPersuasion

Kim
Knox

Book two in the Demonic Liaisons series.

Fadeyka Bryce is on the run. She uncovered a dark family
secret and now there’s a price on her head. Her best plan is to hide out in the
last place they would ever look for her—a pleasure planet—until she can buy
herself a new name and a new face.

However, the Athanasios—a race of pure energy—have plans for
Fade. They’ve been waiting for her, for her unique flesh, and they ache to
experience pleasure. They can become as many lovers as Fade could ever
dream…except for one man. Taras Foster.

But then, the Athanasios want him too.

An
Exotika®
futuristic/scifi erotica
story from Ellora’s Cave

Standing
practically naked in front of her employer wasn’t her first choice, but Fadeyka
Bryce was doing this for the money.
A new identity cost. And she needed
another new one to stay alive.

“My payment, Mr. Mercer.”

Mercer leaned back in his padded chair and pressed his
steepled fingers to his lips. His brows drew together, his gaze crawling over
her skin. She didn’t know where to put her hands, so she laced them in a loose
knot over her belly and tried not to feel stupid.

She’d dialed up something revealing and settled on flimsy
Keme silk draped over her breasts from a silver collar. A matching thin belt
circled her hips and dropped squares of silk over her thighs and mons. She
didn’t feel comfortable in her nakedness. It wasn’t her usual work wear of a
drab all-in-one industrial cleaning suit.

Mercer’s gaze didn’t break from her and unease itched under
her skin. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had seen her even remotely
naked.

“I knew Foster was hiding you inside that cleaning suit.” He
tilted his head. “You know, we always have vacancies on the floor.”

When she’d first applied for a position at Club Tier she’d
considered it. Even gone as far as taking the bio-test for the genetic grafts.
When Taras Foster, head of technical and house security, had reported her as an
unsuitable candidate for grafting, relief had swelled in her stomach. The
decision of pleasuring the clients of Club Tier had been taken away from her.
“He isn’t. I’m one of the rare few.” She shrugged. “Odd genes.”

“Pity.” He sat forward. “But then your natural state does
make you an ideal candidate for palate cleansing.”

Fade winced. She didn’t want to sound like food. “My money,
Mr. Mercer.”

He opened his hand and swept the curve of a light screen
across the table. Her account glowed in sharp white figures against the
translucent film. Lots of figures. And an account not in its usual state of
flashing red with negative numbers. “Increased salary and bonus, as agreed.” He
clicked his fingers and the screen vanished. He smirked at her. “Time to visit
the beast.”

Mercer pushed back his chair and Fade took a step away.
Nerves tightened her stomach. “The Cage is safe, isn’t it? Foster said—”

“Foster is being overcautious.” Mercer tugged at the hem of
his jacket, straightening it. He glanced out the wide window to the dark
skyscape of Theta-Scopii-3 before he looked to her. “The incident three days
ago was simply a glitch. We worked the beast too hard.” His gaze slid over her
again. “Now we must offer him something sweet.”

“I’m still not food, Mr. Mercer.”

He laughed. “Do you realize the honor you’re receiving?” He
strode around his desk and Fadeyka fought to keep her bare feet rooted to the
cool, tiled floor. He stood before her, the light reflected from the crystal
ceiling pushing his face into shadow. His fingers stroked over the curve of her
shoulder and he watched their path. “Dignitaries with more wealth than you can
dream of have begged me for their short time in the Cage.” He wetted his lips.
“And anyway, you’ve taken payment. You can’t back out now.”

Being alone with the odious Stepan Mercer in his office, or
facing the lust of an unknown beast? She knew which one she was choosing. “The
night is moving on, Mr. Mercer.”

He lifted his chin and turned to the door. “There are rules
you must follow when you’re in the Cage. Break them and you’re out.”

Fade nodded, straining her spine, forcing herself to focus.
This was a paid job. And she was practically ensured job satisfaction. The
first stir of nervous excitement flared under her skin. It hadn’t only been
about the money. Curiosity drove her just as hard. Foster had never put her on
the rota to clean the lower levels of the club, but she’d heard the dark and
delicious rumors about the Cage. “What do I do?”

“You’ll be dropped into the room. The plate-lift is the only
exit. Once there, you are to shut your eyes and keep them closed.” He paused
and his hand hovered over the lock to the door. “And you’re to remain silent.
No speaking whilst the beast works. Do either and the session is over.”

A little frisson of…interest ran through her flesh. The Cage
promised endless pleasure. Staff spoke of clients being extracted barely
conscious, the hot thrum of their pleasure vibrating from their skin. And that
the beast kept his pleasure to himself. No one left with the memory of ecstasy.

The wooden door to his office slid silently back into its
frame. Beyond it was the mezzanine level, a wide raised platform set above the
first of the public floors. Slow, rhythmic music beat through the warm air and
the heavy scent of sex mixed with lighter fragrances of cedar and sandalwood.

It brushed over her bare skin and the dual exposure prickled
her. There was another reason she loved her cleaning suit. Paranoia kept her
hidden, kept her safe. She hadn’t trusted that the mess that had brought her to
this resort in the first place hadn’t followed her inside.

She’d hoped it was the last place they’d look for her. Staid
Zoya Dolon—as she once was—bound to her job with little life beyond it wouldn’t
have thought to set foot in such a place. But signs said the people hunting her
were closing in on her location. She had to prepare to run again.

It was still early, their side of the barren rock turning
away from Theta-Scorpii’s distant binary stars. The fourth shift was just
coming on. Club Tier never closed. It was the premier sex venue on the small
planetoid.

Foster’s second-in-command, Gallagher, stepped forward out
of the darkness. He was in charge that night. Foster had taken a rare night off
and Fade had seized her chance to take Mercer up on his offer. She was aware
that Mercer pestered her because he believed—as others did—that she was
Foster’s favorite. Fade didn’t know what she was, but she certainly wasn’t
that.

Foster sometimes watched the feeds coming out of the Cage.
She hadn’t wanted his cold glare eating into her resolve. She hadn’t wanted him
to see something fuck her either.

“Good evening, Mr. Mercer.” Gallagher glanced over her, his
expression neutral. They both knew that Foster was going to be furious that
she’d gone through with this. “Fade.”

She stopped herself from wetting her lips, or screwing her
hands together any tighter. She hadn’t missed the hint of censure in his voice.
“Gallagher.”

“I’ll show her down myself.” Mercer put his hand to her bare
spine and Fade jerked forward. Gallagher’s gaze narrowed briefly, but he said
nothing. “Watch the floors.”

The second-in-command gave a slow nod and eased back into
the darkness. “Yes, Mr. Mercer.”

The narrow corridors far below the mezzanine were a warren
of shadows. Crystal glow edged the doors of the private rooms. The rush of
circulating air filled with the heavy scent of sex and the muffled moans and
cries of the club’s more exclusive clients.

Her cleaning suit had formed a thick barrier to activity in
the club, but she’d never truly appreciated how much it blocked. Walking with
her skin bare and her senses full of the place, she was grateful for it.
Already the heavy push of need had her body on edge.

“Is Foster fucking you? Is that what has my people so
twitchy?”

Mercer’s question broke a strangled “What?” from her and she
stared at him. Pale light from the pure crystal growing from the curve of the
black archway washed over his stark face. The light leeched color from his skin
and she was grateful it would do the same to her. Taras Foster didn’t fuck the
staff. That had been made
very
clear. “Foster? No!”

Mercer’s mouth thinned. “Then you do something for him. What
is it?”

He swiped his hand over a slab of darkened crystal grown
into the wall and a door swung inward with a low groan. Stronger crystal light
pushed back the shadows in a narrow corridor ending in a metal door. The door
behind them thudded into place and the heavy throb of music died. Fade missed
its support, its distraction.

“Do you suck him off in the feed room?”

Fade pushed down the need to curse and kept her voice
neutral. She wasn’t risking her job. “Staff and management don’t have
relationships. I simply do my job here.”

Mercer laughed. “You turned him down. That must have dented
his ego.”

There was little point in trying to defend herself or deny
any sort of…relationship with Foster. Mercer was the slick face of the club for
its owners, but it was Foster who held the real power. Fade had overheard
Mercer’s gripes enough times in the four standard months she’d worked the upper
floors to realize the power imbalance.

They stopped at the metal door. Mercer pressed his palm to
the flat crystal plate at its side and mechanisms hummed. A second later the
door eased back to reveal a narrow plate-lift. The shaft had been dug from
solid crystal. Fade craned her neck, but the open edges of the plate floor
dropped down into blackness.

Her heart squeezed and she heard again Foster’s deep, hard
voice pointing out how dangerous the Cage was, how he still had to do a
thorough diagnostic of its interior and how she was not going to fuck whatever
was down there…

But here she was and the money was in her account. No going
back.

“If you feel the need…after.” Mercer walked a finger along
the bare length of her arm. Goose bumps rose and Fade held down a shiver. She
wasn’t going near him. She never had and she never would. She’d rather face the
unknown of the Cage than him.

“Please have my transport ready. As agreed.”

Mercer shrugged and his fingers tapped out a slow,
irritating rhythm over the back of her hand. “Those who visit the beast return
with a sharpened appetite. The need to fuck will consume you.”

“My transport, Mr. Mercer.”

He pulled in a heavy breath and stepped back from her. “As
you wish.” He lifted a dark eyebrow. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you
grab the nearest thing with a pulse and let it fuck you in desperation.” A dark
smile lifted the corner of his mouth and a touch of nastiness lit his eyes.
“I’ve seen it happen.” He paused and her blood thudded. “And enjoyed the show.”

Fade ignored the hard twist of her heart. She was doing this
for the money. When it was over, when she had “cleansed the beast’s palate” she
would return to her job and the safe and protective barrier of her suit. Maybe
she’d be beyond mortified, but she’d have a large chunk toward constructing her
new life.

She rubbed her damp palms against her silk-covered hips.
Fear of the unknown and what had happened to the three women from
Kappa-Orionis-7 broke nervous sweat on her skin. They’d been pulled unconscious
from the Cage. As far as she knew, they’d recovered, but the Cage had been shut
down under Foster’s order.

She caught a strange hint of carbon…no, coal, and for a
brief moment all her worry dissolved. Fade pulled the scent deeper into her
lungs, the sudden raw need completely
right
in her flesh and making her all
too ready for whatever awaited her.

Fade doubted it was anything living, that the Cage really
held a mysterious beast. The club could never get away with holding something
sentient to work as a pleasure slave. The Academy of Sciences would claim first
rights and shut the place down. No, it had to be a tease. Bioware, expensive,
only just the right side of legal and obviously in need of a reset. Maybe that
was what Foster was protecting? The interests of the club’s owners.

Her fingers flexed at her sides and her tongue touched her
dry lips. The thin silk was warm against her breasts, the heat of her skin
making the fabric cling. Mercer was already walking away and was close to the
far door. “How long do I have to stay down there?”

He turned and in the shadows she thought she caught his hard
smile. “Last as long as you can, Fade. I want to be absolutely sure the beast
is cleansed.”

“Ten minutes? An hour? What?”

His laughter burned raw in her ears. “An hour? I’ve watched
the feeds from that room. He’ll devour you.” He paused. “You must…resist.”

Mercer clanged the door shut behind him and she was left
alone in the silence.

Fade lifted her shoulders. Nowhere to go but down. Gripping
the wide frame of the doorway, she pressed the ball of her foot onto the plate.
It gave way, just enough for her to feel the support mechanism beneath. She
shook her head and committed herself to stepping onto the plate. Was most of
the thrill of visiting the Cage the touches of fear that came with entering it?

Fade found her balance. The tunnel door creaked and slowly
rolled back into place. Sweat trickled down her spine as the pale light was the
only comfort in the tight space. “This is insane. I’m insane.” The words were
deadened by the jagged rock surrounding her and ran a chill over her damp skin.
“All right. Ready.”

Fade closed her eyes, pressed her lips together and listened
to the panicked thud of her heart. The plate-lift dropped and she pressed her
hand to her mouth to keep back the squeak of surprise.

The hum of the mechanism filled the tight space and she
dropped through the shaft, the air moving, wrapping the familiar hint of cedar
and sandalwood around her.

She frowned. There was something else. She swallowed and the
strange taste of coal lingered on her tongue again. Should bioware have that
odor? Foster had raised vehement objections about her entering the Cage. Had he
known there was a fundamental flaw?

Fade’s gut twisted and a greater swell of fear touched her.
Was she making a really stupid mistake? Foster was head of security, after all.
“He’s not here. I am. And I’m doing this.” She clamped her hand to her mouth.
No talking. None. The scent of coal eased away and she breathed more easily.
She’d taken the payment. Backing out now would mean the end of her plans to escape.
Therefore she had no choice.