Stranded & Seduced Page 5

  The area was so crowded with stock there wasn’t enough room inside for more than two beings. Jars of mystery items lined the walls. Layers of dust covered every surface, giving the shop a musty, unloved appearance. It didn’t smell much better, reminding him of the stench of tomcat’s piss.

  “Hello?” Tamaki hoped Lissa knew what she was doing sending them here.

  Scuffling came from another room out the back. The sound drew nearer until a stooped male dressed in a khaki green robe shuffled behind the battered counter. “Canna help ya?” He slurred his words together, sounding rusty, as if he didn’t speak very often.

  Here, Tamaki was at a loss. He didn’t know what was wrong with Cimmaron. A quick glance confirmed she wasn’t in any condition to answer a series of questions. Perhaps if he described her symptoms. “She seems hot and keeps rubbing against me. She’s purring like a cat.”

  The male shuffled from behind the counter and peered closely at Cimmaron. He poked her golden arm with one forefinger. “Dlog.”

  “Yes, she’s a Dlog.”

  The male limped over to a pile of jars and unerringly picked up one from the dozens. He shook it before tugging off the lid. A grunt emerged. “Six left.” He limped back to Tamaki. “Pay first.”

  “How much?”

  “One thousand credits.”

  “One—”

  “Take or leave,” the male said.

  Cimmaron shuddered before rubbing her full breasts across his chest. A soft flush highlighted her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes, they were pure gold. “Kiss me,” she purred.

  Oh, he wanted to, but there was something wrong with this picture. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Dlog female must mate. Go on heat. Pills stop.”

  Tamaki studied Cimmaron in new light. She lay weak and compliant in his arms, quite unlike the female who’d strutted into his bar with real attitude and took no-nonsense from anyone. The golden glow was the flush of sexual arousal, not a fever or illness. “Are the rumors true? If a Dlog female has sex with a male they’re mated for life?”

  “True, if they in heat. If they not take pills.”

  “How long will the pills last?”

  “One pill last for a par cycle.”

  About a week, Tamaki translated. And the male had six pills. “Can you get more?”

  “Expensive.”

  Anger exploded in Tamaki and it must have shown. The male took two hasty steps backward, putting distance between them.

  “Hard to get,” he said, panic on his wizened face. “No Dlog live on Marchant. Must wait for traders to come.”

  Tamaki took a deep breath, finally understanding the truth behind the apothecary’s words. “I’ll take all six. Can she take one now?”

  “Take awhile to work.”

  Tamaki gazed at the female in his arms. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, a lusty purr vibrating through her. If she kept rubbing against him in that manner, he wouldn’t be responsible for his reactions. She repeated the move, sliding against his groin. His cock reacted to her sinuous stroking, filling and pushing against his trews. Tamaki gritted his teeth and attempted to hold her away from his body. She fought him, stronger than normal in her determination to mate.

  “Hot. So hot,” she said, tearing at her tunic.

  Tamaki struggled to prevent her removing her clothes. “Does she need to swallow the pill whole?”

  The male nodded. “With liquid. I get.” He disappeared through the concealed doorway. At least the male was acting with good sense now that he’d garnered a sale. He was letting Cimmaron take one before they completed their transaction.

  Cimmaron stopped trying to take off her clothes, and Tamaki relaxed. Mistake. She attacked his self-restraint, brushing her lips across his throat and rubbing against his groin. Tamaki groaned at the sensation that washed through him, the tightening of his balls and cock. He found himself clutching her to his chest and rubbing back. She moaned, lifting her head and offering her mouth for him to take. Tamaki took what she offered before his brain had a chance to kick in. Their lips slid together. Tamaki’s mouth opened in shock and her tongue slipped inside, stroking the softness of his inner cheek and contrasting hardness of his teeth.

  He shivered, knowing he needed to stop her before they did something they’d both regret yet contrarily wanting to hold her for a bit longer.

  The elderly apothecary appeared without warning and slammed a goblet on the scarred wooden counter. “Liquid.” The water splashed over the edge and several droplets ran over the metal to pool on the counter surface. The man fumbled with the glass jar and finally pulled out a single black pill. He extended his hand with the pill sitting in his palm.

  Tamaki wrenched himself free of Cimmaron. He pressed the pill to her lips and handed her the goblet of liquid. “Swallow,” he ordered in a stern voice.

  Cimmaron turned her head. “Don’t wanna.”

  “Do it.” Tamaki felt the urge to shake her. He was trying to help. She didn’t want to mate with him, and although he craved her body, her attention, winning this way wasn’t right. He needed her fully conscious of her actions and making love to him because she wanted him. Him. Not just a handy cock to scratch an itch.

  “Kiss me,” she pleaded in a throaty voice, turning her shimmering gaze on him.

  “After you take the pill.” They stared at each other, neither willing to budge first.

  “Kiss me.” She trailed her fingers across his face, caressing his cheek and tracing the outline of his lips.

  His heart thumped so loudly, Tamaki was sure she’d hear and realize how close he was to losing control and giving in to the urgent desire thrumming through his body. God, he wanted her so bad his hands were trembling. Inhaling deep, he offered her the pill again. “Swallow the pill and I’ll kiss you.” Yeah, blackmail, but he couldn’t take much more. She had to take the pill. She just had to before he cracked and crossed boundaries he couldn’t reinstate.

  Cimmaron lifted her tunic to expose the tapes binding her breasts. “I swallow and you’ll kiss me here.” She pointed to a rigid nipple beneath her tunic.

  Tamaki gulped. “Okay.” The word came out with a hint of croak. He swallowed again and hoped like hell that she didn’t have any additional stipulations. He didn’t think he could take much more.

  “Deal,” Cimmaron said. “Give me the pill.”

  He handed it over, still not convinced she wasn’t going to chuck it away and jump him instead. In fact, half of him willed her to do just that. Hell of a way to go.

  She popped the black disc into her mouth and took the goblet he gave her with a trembling hand. She raised it to her mouth and tipped back her head. As he watched, she swallowed. His breath eased out in relief. Now all he had to do was wait until the pill took effect.

  Cimmaron drank every drop of liquid before she slapped the goblet on the counter. “You have to kiss me now,” she said.

  “We’ll need privacy.” Okay, that was a good excuse.

  “You owe me a kiss. You have to pay. You. Have. To.” She punctuated each word by poking a forefinger in his chest. Her cat’s eyes flashed a light amber color, but he didn’t think it was amber for “prepare to stop”.

  “Please order more pills.” Tamaki pulled a calling card from his pocket and handed it to the elder male along with several currency discs. He received the bottle of pills in exchange and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket. “Call me when they come in.”

  “Kiss. Kiss.” Cimmaron leaned close and puckered up.

  “Pills make sleepy,” the apothecary said. His gaze skimmed over them both before he shuffled out and disappeared.

  Lord, he hoped the pills would make her sleepy soon. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the boarding house.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and breathed in shallow, careful breaths as he directed her out of the apothecary’s shop. She wobbled dangerously when he withdrew his support and almost fell into an open drain. Tamaki grabbed her by the scruff of her tuni
c and hauled her upright.

  “No farther.” Cimmaron planted her feet and refused to move.

  “Give me strength,” he muttered, finally giving up and scooping her off her feet. He walked rapidly toward the club, taking the back streets so they avoided the worst of the market crowds. Just before he reached the club, he turned into a narrow alley. Halfway along, he stopped and let Cimmaron slide down his body and stand on her feet.

  She blinked like a sleepy owl. “What’s up?”

  “You need to sleep.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She continued to stare at him in the same owlish manner before closing one eye in a saucy wink. “After our kiss.”

  Tamaki cursed silently. Talk about a one-track mind. He scanned his finger and the door slid open. He ushered her inside and up a short flight of stairs. At the top, he turned right to his private apartment. Rico lived in the apartment to the left.

  Tamaki opened his door and Cimmaron sashayed, albeit with a wobble, inside.

  “Bed, I think,” he said, steering her into his bedroom.

  “Good idea. We’ll go to bed right now.” Her smile was wolfish, and if they’d come face-to-face in his club, he’d have worried. Hell, he’d have hidden behind the bar. It didn’t take much more than a gentle push to get her on his bed. He tugged off her black combat boots so she’d feel more comfortable. “Ooh, good idea,” she cooed. “Let’s get naked.” That said, she ripped her tunic over her head and loosened her bindings, baring her golden breasts and upper body before he could protest.

  Tamaki backed up. “Ah, glad you’re comfortable. You should go to sleep now.”

  “You promised me a kiss.”

  “All right.” Tamaki stalked over to the bed and bent over to kiss her. He aimed for her cheek but at the last moment, she shifted her head. Their lips collided. Tamaki stilled, his heart doing a high-kicking jig while he stared into her golden eyes. Then her lips moved beneath his, tempting, threatening his wavering resolve to keep things strictly business. Her hands wound around his neck, massaging the back of his skull, drawing him in to her lure. Her breasts rubbed against his shirt, and she moaned, her honeyed scent filling his every breath.

  “Feels good. I need more.” Her hand burrowed beneath the V of his shirt, her nails digging into his flesh. Her scent tantalized, rich and redolent, reminding him of the warm spices and honey. Tamaki savored her fragrance and the warm feminine curves filling his arms. Her busy hands scraped across his flat nipple, bringing a shudder of awareness.

  “God, Cimmaron. You have to stop.”

  “But I’m wet for you. I need you inside me. I feel so empty. Please,” she whispered. “Please make love to me.”

  A beautiful woman lying in his arms, pleading for him to make love to her. It should have been a story with a happy conclusion, but he knew he couldn’t give in to her demands. Once the pill kicked in and she realized what they’d done, she’d hate him. Tamaki pulled away, disengaging her arms from around his neck and pushing her flat on the bed.

  She trembled, wrapping her arms around her naked breasts. “Please, Tamaki. I need you.” She spoiled the plea with a wide yawn.

  “Sleep, sweetheart. We have plenty of time to make love once you’ve rested. Okay?”

  “I am tired,” she conceded. Her eyes fluttered shut.

  Tamaki stared, hoping she really had fallen asleep. He waited to make sure and was relieved to hear a tiny snort, a snuffle and then snoring. He gave a tired sigh. Crisis averted.

  For the moment.

  * * * * *

  Five days later

  Cimmaron yawned as she cleared off the tables in the club. Most of the customers had left, apart from a few Luxor stragglers. Normally, she wouldn’t still be working but two of their cleaners had run off, declaring themselves in love. Cimmaron made a scoffing sound deep in her throat. She didn’t believe in the faithless emotion. There was no such thing as love. Sex, yes. That happened between male and female, but love…

  Bah! Males liked to dominate, and she wasn’t letting anyone have that power over her.

  Tamaki and Rico crossed the dance floor, deep in conversation, and she scowled. Tamaki had helped her purchase pills and hadn’t made a move on her despite her vulnerability. Most men would’ve taken what she’d offered, but he hadn’t. She didn’t understand why, and her lack of insight whirred her mind into an anxiety soup. She didn’t like owing him.

  “Hurry up and clean the stairs,” Melad said. “Otherwise it’ll be time to come back to work before we’re finished.”

  “Sorry.” Cimmaron picked up a broom and dragged her weary body up the spiral staircase.

  “What are you doing here?” Hulk, the security guard, demanded.

  Cimmaron waved the broom in his face. “Cleaning.”

  “Hurry up,” he snarled back.

  Cimmaron shrugged. They’d never been on the best of terms since she’d kicked him in the shins. The male held a mean grudge. Half-heartedly, she started to sweep. Quite a come down from flying a spaceship.

  A workman trudged up the stairs, tracking dirt everywhere. His tools clanked against his hip with each step.

  “They told me to ask for the security guard,” he said.

  “I’ll get him.” Cimmaron grabbed the opportunity to see a little of the forbidden area upstairs. She strutted over to Hulk, her gaze darting left and right. To her total frustration, she couldn’t see a thing. Lots of smaller rooms went off the main room. There were privacy guards over the windows, and in the very center of the main room, there was a seating area. Luxurious leather seats sat in cozy groups for clubbers to sit and chat in private. Over to the side, a small bar provided drinks and snacks, judging by the stack of dirty platters.

  “What do you want?” Hulk snarled, interrupting her gawking.

  “There’s a workman here to see you.”

  “For the alterations. Tell him to come up, and you, get back to work.”

  Cimmaron cast a curious glance at the cloaked windows before returning to direct the tradesman to Hulk. The curiosity was going to burn her alive until she learned what went on behind the closed windows and doors. She picked up the broom and commenced half-hearted sweeping again, working her way down the stairs.

  “Good job,” a husky voice said from behind her.

  Cimmaron jumped then whirled about, raising the broom as a weapon.

  “Steady.” Tamaki chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “It’s me. I wanted to know how you were doing. We haven’t had a chance to talk.”

  Because she felt embarrassed about earlier and kept dodging him. She shrugged, giving in to her irritation despite knowing she should feel grateful to him for treating her with such respect.

  “I’m fine.” Yes, it was abrupt and rude, but she constantly fought the urge to throw herself at him. The sane part of herself knew this couldn’t happen. She pictured a spaceship. She dredged up every hurtful comment she’d received about a Dlog female being a pilot. The crap in her past strengthened her resolve to stay the phrull away from Tamaki Grierson. But because she wasn’t a total bitch, she forced a smile. “Thank you for helping me the other day. I appreciated your help.”

  Tamaki nodded, his grin strangely absent. “No problem. You almost done here?”

  “Yes, I just need to finish the stairs.”

  Tamaki nodded. “See you on the morrow.”

  Cimmaron applied her frustration to stair sweeping and finished in no time, her curiosity about the upstairs rooms as strong as ever.

  * * * * *

  The next moon wane was busy. Galaxy rips had created severe storms that kept spaceships on Marchant for longer than normal and gave the crews some unexpected rest and recreation. Security was busy at the door, turning away uninvited customers while others walked in without a problem since they possessed the special codes necessary for entrance. Cimmaron didn’t have time to ask questions, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have them. Traffic up the stairs during the night was heavy, and even more puzzling was
the huge number of clubbers who came down the stairs, ones she hadn’t seen before.

  A rush of customers prompted Tamaki to jump behind the bar to help serve drinks.

  “What is up the stairs?” Cimmaron asked when the rush died down.

  “Private rooms,” Tamaki said, tapping her on the nose in a teasing manner. She glanced up to see Rico’s scowl. The male made it clear he didn’t like her, but she was at a loss to understand why. Shoving aside the thought, she returned to a more burning issue. “What sort of private rooms?”

  Tamaki tweaked her nose again, and she felt his touch clear to her toes. She was taking the pills, but they didn’t seem to work very well in blocking Tamaki’s charismatic appeal.

  Tamaki smiled at her burning curiosity. “Nothing you need to know about.” She was wary around him. Part of him was glad—the sensible part—but try telling that to his body. He walked around with a permanent hard-on these days.

  Rico had already clearly expressed his disapproval. Tamaki figured Rico was frustrated because his chosen was playing hard to get. And Tamaki kept reminding himself about the fraternization rules—for all the good it did.

  * * * * *

  After several moon waxes and wanes, Cimmaron wanted to scream. The need to learn the mysteries of upstairs was killing her. Deep down, she knew it was her frustration at being stuck on Marchant, but that didn’t make her need to know any less burning.

  She stocked the chiller behind the bar then stomped off to the staff room to have a hot bevee before the club opened for business. The staff room was deserted because the other bar staff had grabbed the opportunity to hit the market for bargains. Since Cimmaron couldn’t afford frivolous expenditure, she’d stayed at work.

  Restless, she swallowed the last mouthful of the bevee from her goblet and jumped to her feet. She retrieved her communicator, scowled at the low battery readout and tried to contact Lynx. When her call went to message box, she tried Shiloh’s number. Nothing. After tossing the communicator back into her locker, she strode back out to the bar. At the base of the spiral stairs, she paused.