Codename Summer (Undercover Embassy, Book Four) (4 page)

His warm fingers touched her cheek and guided her gaze back to his. “I was conflicted beyond belief. When we met I had a lover named Shirra. In fact, she was my first lover and I had planned to make her my wife.”

Pity tugged at her heartstrings. “Is that who you were with when I walked in on you?” He nodded and she found it hard to breathe. She’d been so angry and hurt she’d refused to see him that night. By the time her temper cooled, the Gathosians had arrived and obliterated life as she’d known it. “But it wasn’t just that one woman. People I trusted had seen you before, with other women, kissing them and touching them. You flaunted your conquests and—”

“I was provoking my father. I didn’t want to be a political pawn, and I—”

“Wasn’t sure which of your lovers you desired most?” She wrapped herself in indignation, refusing to be hurt all over again.

He had the audacity to smile. “In a way. My rebellion only made my father more determined to see me joined, so I explored my feelings for you.”

“You pursued me like a predator.” She shivered. Just the memory of their courtship made her temperature rise and her pussy moisten. She wanted his body covering her, filling her, controlling her and pleasuring her as he drove them both beyond reality.

“I won’t apologize for my nature. I’m Bartonese and so are you. You wouldn’t have responded to a gentle wooing. Admit it.” Tension built between them, drawing their faces closer with each heartbeat.

“What happened to Shirra?” It was a cheap shot and she knew it, but she wasn’t ready to surrender to the insanity that was Malik.

He sighed and sank back on his heels, lowering his arm to his side. “Shirra sensed the change in me when you and I became lovers. The night you walked in on us she had begged me not to abandon her. She suggested I bond with you and make her a royal concubine.”

“My mother was a concubine.” Royal males were expected to produce as many children as possible, which often led to the designation of concubines. She lapsed into thoughtful silence, unable to determine how she felt about the details. Was it less damning that he’d only had one serious lover rather than a horde of meaningless flings? The ache in her heart gradually deepened. He would have shared his body with the one-night stands, while Shirra had shared a piece of his heart. “Is Shirra still alive?”

His hand eased beneath the robe and rested on her thigh. He didn’t caress her, just reestablished skin-to-skin contact. “She isn’t, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she was. As I huddled in the darkness and endured Gathosian torture, it was your face I saw, your scent I remembered and your taste I craved. I’ve tried to forget you, to move on, but I can’t let go. You are my destined mate, not Shirra.”

She pushed his hand away and closed the front of her robe. “I don’t believe in destined mates. Our physiology is compatible for reproduction so our bodies attract us to each other. It’s a genetic apparatus that evolved over time to ensure the survival of our species. There’s nothing mystical about it.”

He pushed her legs apart and pulled her toward him. “You give the credit to evolution and I’ll believe in destiny. The result is the same. You belong with me.”

“Why are we talking about this now?” She put her hands on his shoulders, keeping some distance between their bodies. “Are you afraid to explore the real issue?”

His hand shot into her hair then closed into a loose fist. “I need to know the future is worth fighting for. Will you be waiting for me on the other side?”

Did he mean on the other side of the conflict, or in the afterlife? She could sense the tension coiled within him but didn’t fully understand the cause. “Freedom is its own reward. You can’t do this for me. We’ve been captives so long we’ve forgotten what it feels like to live without fear. Hopelessness numbs the soul.”

“If I betray them they’ll tear this world apart. You have no idea how badly they need me.” The absolute desolation in his tone assured her it was no idle boast. He released her hair and pushed to his feet, obviously agitated by the direction they were headed.

“Can they track you?” Allowing Summer to take control, she suppressed her emotions and watched him closely. Every gesture and micro-expression could reveal a half-truth or exaggeration. It was time for her to do her job.

He snatched his glass off the end table and went to refill it. “I’m not linked with them like I was when I was an anchor. But there is enough of their energy left in my system for them to easily find me.”

“Do they know where you are right now?”

He faced her again but remained by the table. “Yes.”

“How much do they know about the seasons?”

After draining half the glass he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I told them I suspected there was a spy at the central embassy but I wasn’t any more specific than that. They were still interrogating Inwatta. I don’t know what she told them or how much she knows.”

Malik’s investigation into Inwatta’s unacceptable behavior was what had drawn his attention to the central embassy. If it weren’t for the wayward Gathosian, Saroji would likely still believe Malik was dead.

“Why do they trust you?” She had to know why they gave him freedoms no other corporeal being was allowed. “No one refuses them anything, yet you’re no longer a host.”

“The Gathosian I hosted died while he inhabited me. The energy he left behind is tainted. It would poison—” He stopped and finished his drink. “That’s bullshit. It’s the lie I’ve been telling for years.”

“Then what’s the truth?”

“I don’t understand the specifics, but there’s something about my DNA that allowed their experiments to succeed where all other combinations failed.” He glanced at her then averted his face. “When I realized they have to have samples from a live, healthy donor, my position strengthened considerably.”

She blew out a slow, quiet breath, not sure she wanted to know where this led. “What sort of experiments?”

“They’re cloning anchors, creating biological puppets they can operate without the hassle of controlling a sentient being.”

“How close are they to…” The possibilities spread out before her and bile rose to the back of her throat. “Why the hell did you cooperate? If they can mass-produce anchors it will fortify their only weakness.”

“I only just figured it out.” His tone was sharp and defensive. He slammed down his empty glass and stalked toward her. “When I’m in the Hub I can sense things, echoes of thoughts and images. It took me years to piece it all together. I knew it had to do with anchors but I was told they were trying to prolong the lifespan of the existing hosts. If I’d known what they were doing, I would have fought them every step of the way.”

She didn’t argue. They had all been deceived by the Gathosians. Manipulation was their specialty. “What is the Hub?”

Dread chilled Malik’s blood and clenched his fists. If he told Saroji about the Hub there would be no turning back. He’d be a member of the Resistance. He was here to learn about Autumn and Ra’jen’s operation, not be interrogated. How had Saroji flipped this on him?

Saroji hadn’t done anything. That cool, calculated look belonged to Summer, the well-trained spy.

Forcing his emotions under control, he offered her a sexy smile. “It’s your turn, sweetheart. I’ve shown you mine, now show me yours.”

She didn’t look pleased but she didn’t object. “What do you want to know?”

“How far have you gotten with the antidote?” He sat on the end of the coffee table, his body angled toward her. “Is it still theoretical, or is Evard conducting human trials even as we speak?” Uncertainty crept over her features and he sighed. She didn’t trust him. Even after all he’d explained she was unsure of his motives. “I didn’t ask for a tour of his lab. I’m just trying to establish a timeframe.”

“A timeframe for what?”

“We’ll only get one chance at this. If anything I say or do makes the Gathosians suspicious, there’s no telling what they’ll do.”

She was quiet for a moment then asked, “Are the clones operational?”

“Sort of. They have a working prototype. Inwatta’s replacement intends to field-test the unit. If all goes as they hope, the next step is mass production.”

Her uncertainty turned to panic and she shot to her feet. “I have to warn Ra’jen. We need to move before they have time to mass-produce the clones.”

He caught both her hands and gave them a squeeze. “It can wait until morning. It will take months for them to begin production.”

“How can you be sure?”

“The prototype has to be proven.” He slid his hands up her arms inside the sleeves of her robe. “They won’t waste their time or resources on a flawed product.”

After one last glance toward the door, she calmed and looked into his eyes. “Then what shall we do until morning?”

“We forget about the Gathosians and the Resistance, and rediscover each other.”

“What did you have in mind—Sir?”

The title sent heat straight to his balls and his cock bucked beneath the confines of his pants. “That depends. Are you Saroji, or Summer?” He braced for the answer, longing for the return of his betrothed, yet understanding her hesitancy. So much had happened to both of them, and even their courtship had been tempestuous. How could he expect to pick up where they had left off all those years ago? He was being unreasonable.

Her gaze clouded and she stepped back, dislodging his hands in the process. “I can’t let you into my mind, Malik. Too many lives are at risk.”

He accepted her decision with a stiff nod while his heart ached in protest. Possessing her delectable body would only make him crave a true joining all the more, but he couldn’t resist, refused to deny himself what she was willing to give him. “Then lose the robe and let’s begin.”

She loosened the belt and let the robe slip off her shoulders, revealing the upper curve of her breasts. Her image had kept him sane through the long, lonely years of Gathosian training. Anchors couldn’t be forced. They had to willingly accept the energy tether or their brains were irreversibly damaged. Years in the military, and inherent stubbornness, had allowed him to hold out longer than most.

With her arms still in the sleeves, she allowed the robe to bunch around her waist. Her breasts were full and firm, the nipples surprisingly vivid given her pale skin. His fingers itched to touch but he suppressed the temptation. If she was going to torment him with limitations, he would make her wait for each orgasm and challenge her physical boundaries. They had only begun to explore her sexual potential during their betrothal but he’d sensed the depths of her carnality.

“Off. Now.” She immediately obeyed. He kicked off his shoes as he said, “Undress me. You do not have permission to touch me, only my clothes.”

Objection flickered in her expressive eyes, but she moved toward him and went to work. Her hands were deft and quick. Apparently this was a directive she was happy to obey. When he stood before her naked, he allowed her a moment to caress him visually.

Her hands rubbed her thighs and her gaze zeroed in on his cock. As if to welcome her stare, his shaft lengthened and swelled, arching away from his body. “He can’t wait to be inside you again.” He fisted his shaft and stroked, enjoying her body’s reaction. Her nipples hardened and she licked her lips as a lovely flush crept up her neck. “Are you wet?” She nodded. “Show me.”

She pushed her hand between her thighs and shivered, then showed him her cream-covered fingers.

“Come here. I want a taste.” She brought her hand to his mouth and he sucked her essence off her fingers. “More.” With a needful moan she touched herself then offered him the shiny proof of her arousal. He sucked and licked, curling his tongue around her fingers until her hand began to shake. “Where’s the playroom? Mistress Autumn assured me this suite had every amenity I could imagine.”

She looked as if she might object then inclined her head and moved toward the bedroom. He followed, watching the graceful sway of her hips and the tempting flex of her rounded ass. If all she would allow him was access to her body, he would access her body in every way possible.

Lust stabbed his balls at the thought of covering her, feeling her writhe beneath him as he thrust strong and deep into her tight back passage. He’d only taken her like that once before but she’d screamed with pleasure as she came hard enough to make him groan.

The playroom wasn’t large but it was well equipped. He left her standing in the middle of the room as he explored the possibilities. He wanted to take her from behind but he wanted to see her face. The large mirror covering the far wall would allow him to do both. A narrow, padded table with arm and leg restraints was positioned adjacent to the mirror. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who liked to watch while he fucked.

“On your back on the table, arms over your head.” Her lips parted and she started to say something, then she moved silently toward the table. “What’s the matter?”

“I want to touch you before you restrain me.”

And I want to feel your emotions while we make love.
He didn’t allow the thought beyond his mental shields, and all he said was, “No.”

She positioned herself as he’d directed, hands clutching one end of the table while her feet rested on the other.

Moving to the table’s edge, he grasped the underside of her knees and pulled her toward him. He draped her legs over his shoulders then lowered his head between her thighs. “You do not have permission to come.”