Savor Me Slowly (Alien Huntress 3)

“You won’t be able to find me.”

At least she didn’t mention the wheelchair. “Wanna bet?”

Her eyes narrowed on him, and she anchored her hands on her hips. “Do I need to knock you out?”

“Try. See what happens.” He was pissed enough to fight her and tie her to the bed.

Exasperated, she tossed her hands in the air. “This is why I avoid men and relationships.” With a shake of her head, she grabbed a brush and jerked the bristles through her hair. When all the tangles were gone, she wrapped the silky tresses into a twist and held it in place with sharp little blades. “If you think that orgasm gives you the right to dictate my actions, you’re wrong.”

“Don’t forget the ring,” he snapped, ignoring her words and motioning to the ring she’d used to knock him out before. “You might need it.”

Her cheeks flushed as she tugged it onto her index finger. “This isn’t the only ring you should fear.” She grabbed the other two, telling him about them as she shoved them in place. “This one will make you vomit your guts. And this one will make you hallucinate until you peel the skin from your bones.”

“I guess I should consider myself lucky you only knocked me out,” he replied bitterly.

“Yeah.” Deadpan expression, deadpan tone. “You should.”

He hated fighting with her for reasons that had nothing to do with work.

Obviously, she hated fighting with him, too, because she sighed and added, “Look. There’s no reason to argue. I have to go and you have to stay. That won’t change. So do you want to tell me how the women are infected by the Schön or should I just find out firsthand?”

His eyes widened, a haze of red fury dotting his vision. “You’re hunting the Schön tonight?”

She stiffened, didn’t reply.

“You are staying here. Get me?” He was on his feet a moment later. He swayed, cringed, but didn’t fall.

She turned away from him. “Right now, I’m faster than you. You’re not going to stop me and we both know it.”

A pause, heavy and cracking. “Why do I feel like you manipulated me into this? That you let me see your pleasure, then asked for information to save you?” He laughed bitterly about his own gullibility. “And here’s a better question. Why am I letting you get away with it?”

She had no response, didn’t even try to defend herself.

“When was your last period?” he asked.

“Uh, excuse me?”

“Just answer the damn question.”

“I don’t have periods.”

The revelation so startled him, some of his anger eased. “Why?”

“Just the way I was designed,” she said, her voice monotone.

Something softened inside of him. “Can you have children?”

Her fingers curled into fists. “Why are you asking me these questions? The answers are none of your goddamn business!”

Rather than anger him, her outburst softened him all the more. “Don’t let one of those aliens kiss or penetrate you, okay? Do you understand? Has nothing to do with me and you.” The truth as well as a lie. “Just don’t.”

She nodded, fingers slowly uncurling. “Listen. I’m not going to be with someone else tonight. But some other night, I can’t promise not to be. I do what I have to do to survive, Jaxon. Don’t you?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. She simply stalked out of the room.

CHAPTER 7

Le’Ace hoped her I’m-a-naughty-girl-and-I’m-not-wearing-any-panties expression was solid as she strode into the crowded bar. I’m the sex kitten of your dreams, she tried to project. I’m eager for companionship and willing to do anything for a little attention.

Male eyes glided to her, landed, and stayed.

Of course, the very attention she sought, she hated. But she forced herself to grin as the glistening barrage of strobe lights cascaded from the ceiling, illuminating her from head to toe. Grinned all the wider as those masculine eyes perused her up and down and lingered on her br**sts, between her legs.

Could anyone tell she was a trembling mess inside and on the verge of total meltdown?

Three seats were available at the bar. She settled in the one at the end, giving herself a crescent-moon view of the entire room. She ordered a beer.

God, she’d had an orgasm. Not her first, but every other climax had come in the dark of night, while she lay alone in bed. And even then, during those rare times she touched herself intimately, her actions were more hate-filled than pleasurable, sweating male faces constantly flashing through her mind, taunting her.

With Jaxon, however, she’d considered nothing but the moment, the man. Felt nothing but satisfaction.

She was confused by what had happened. She was angry that it had never happened before, upset Jaxon might not want her again since she’d left so abruptly, and already hungry for another taste of that sweet, sweet desire.

A cold bottle pressed against her knuckles, bringing her back to present. She paid the bartender, enraged at herself for her distraction and her inability to stop it. Sure, Estap had other agents in the bar and they were her “protection.” Yeah, right. They were her tethers.

Bastards.

Part of her prayed her target stayed home tonight. She only wanted to talk to Jaxon. The other part of her just wanted to get this over with, knowing she’d be called back again and again until she’d met with the otherwolder.

She scanned the area. None of the men milling around the bar even roused a single spark inside her. Perhaps it was because her six senses knew Jaxon now. Her fingers knew the texture of his skin, and her nose recognized his masculine scent. Her mouth knew his decadent flavor, and her eyes recognized his rugged appeal. The computer chip connected with his emotions, his highs and lows, rasping the man’s enjoyment of her every sound and movement.

The fact that she was in a bar and on the prowl for another man revolted her. Guide me, she commanded the chip. Obviously, she would not get the job done on her own.

Expression contorted in a grimace.

Shit. Relax, just relax. She sipped her beer. Think of something positive. Jaxon’s expression as he’d touched her: absolute possessiveness, utter maleness. His touch, oh God, his touch. He’d known exactly how to touch her, when to press hard, when to be gentle, where she needed stimulation. The more he’d tasted her, the more his voice had deepened, grown husky and wine-rich.

You’re distracted. Again.