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  “Count.”

  An electric pulse zinged through her body, emulating the pain Falyn felt every time she dared to leave her quarters, and she spasmed with agony. “One,” she cried out. A second pulse followed. “Two.” She curled her fingers into fists. I can do this. “Three.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “No emotion,” John reminded her. “Visualize where you are.”

  “Four.” As she counted, she drew upon her reservoir of stolen images. Level five. On his ship, in deep space. Her destined love stood in front of a viewscreen, his back to her, his hands gripped behind him.

  “Eight.” Waves of suffering rolled over Falyn. Visualize. The man’s shoulders were thrust back defiantly, his spine was straight and proud.

  “Eleven.” She forced the pain back, cutting its access to her mind, and she focused on the details. Silver scars decorated his knuckles. His fingernails were short and square, a trace of black powder on his fingertips.

  “Sixteen.” Stars blurred around his head, illuminating his short, dark hair. Slashes of bare scalp highlighted locations of past wounds. My pain is nothing compared to what he has gone through.

  “Twenty.” The electric jolts stopped and Falyn blinked, returning to the present.

  “Tolerance training successful.” John removed the torture tab, the device simulating the shocks her collar would give her when she left their chambers, when she tried to escape, when he came for her. Soon. “Level five will allow you to board his ship.” He rubbed her back, his large hand warm and comforting.

  “I can do this, John.” Falyn turned her face toward him. During her punishment, he’d undressed, exposing tanned skin, defined muscle and a cock hard and ready to be used. She smiled, her body humming with arousal. “With your help.”

  “I’ll block the tracking signal.” John cupped her ass and squeezed, his grip stimulatingly strong. “You block the pain.” He moved behind her, artificial heat radiating from his manufactured physique. “Time for your reward.”

  Falyn raised her ass and spread her legs, giving her android access to all of her. She waited for him to touch her, her anticipation and need building with each beat of her heart.

  John pressed one index finger against her spine and she twitched, the contact felt to the soles of her feet. He dragged that callused finger down her vertebrae, sliding between her ass cheeks. She sucked in her breath as he paused at her puckered hole. He circled her once, slowly, teasingly, drawing more moisture from her gushing pussy.

  Falyn buried her face in the thin bed covering. The white fabric stifled her moans as John skimmed his finger over her folds, dipped into her entrance and spread her heat over her clit, rubbing his fingertip into that bundle of nerves. Every brush sent sparks along her thighs, igniting flames of desire, and she writhed, wiggling her hips and grazing her nipples against the soft cover.

  “Be still.” John smacked her ass with one big hand while continuing to torment her clit with the other. Falyn struggled to obey his command, the strain elevating her passion into the stratosphere.

  “That’s my strong woman.” John extended one of the compliments she’d programmed him to say. Falyn beamed, his rare words of approval worth all of her sexual frustration.

  That frustration built as John pumped her pussy with one finger, then two fingers and finally three, stretching her, skin pulling tightly around him, the pinch adding to the vortex of sensations swirling within her.

  “Tell me what you need, Falyn,” her android ordered. He leaned over her body, his form large and intimidating. Skin brushed against skin and she quivered.

  “Your cock in my pussy.” Expressing her need released some of the pressure, slowing the upward spiral of passion.

  “You won’t come until I give you permission,” John instructed needlessly, that rule established years ago.

  He prodded her pussy with his broad cock head, testing, teasing, tormenting, and Falyn’s body responded, a tremor shaking her, the bliss precursor to delights to come.

  “Moan for me, Falyn.” John pushed into her, his shaft thick. She opened her mouth and an animalistic noise clawed up her throat, her pitch rising as he filled her pussy.

  John pulled out to his tip, the resulting emptiness a sharp and arousing contrast to the previous fullness. She clenched and unclenched around him, striving to suck him back in, but her android wouldn’t be rushed. He folded his fingers over her hips and pulled her toward him, impaling her on his hard cock.

  She shuddered and twisted the bed covering in her hand as John rode her hard, his energy and willpower limitless. He didn’t make a noise, his breathing level, his body relaxed, his emotional coolness presenting a challenge she could never conquer.

  I’ll lose control alone…as always. Falyn panted, smacking her ass against her android’s hard form, the impact warming her skin. Weak. Tremors rocked her. I’m weak, unworthy.

  “Come for me.” John issued the command Falyn waited for and she abandoned all pretence of strength, releasing her restraint.

  She screamed her failure into the otherwise silent room, desire ripping her to pieces. She bucked against John’s motionless body and she twisted, struggling to break free of his static grip, alone in her frenzy, solitary in her fulfillment. Lights flashed and images from past assignments flickered through her mind, a rapid fire collage of other males’ more worthy mates, taunting her with their strength and their beauty.

  I’m not yet good enough. Falyn collapsed face-first onto the bed. I must earn my freedom. She closed her eyes, overcome with exhaustion. I must earn his love. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, John’s cock remaining lodged deep inside her.

  Chapter Two

  Traz steadied his United Star System registered ship, the USS Freedom, as he approached the station. Get in. Grab the future-bender. Get out. He pressed his lips together, pushing misgivings about his plan from his mind. She’s a trade-credit, that’s it.

  “Confirm docking code,” the station’s automated receiver requested through a private communication channel, the information sourced from Horst.

  “Alpha-four-nine-beta-two,” Traz recited as he tapped on his personal viewscreen, decreasing his ship’s velocity.

  “Docking code verified.” The bays opened, the bright lights blinding in the darkness of space. Tracking beams locked onto The Freedom and pulled his one-man vessel in.

  Traz released the controls and leaned back in his well-worn chair. “So far, so good.”

  He glanced down at the portable tablet resting in his lap, the tablet he, for some unknown reason, had carried with him constantly over the past three days. The future-bender’s beautiful face dominated the screen, her eyes large and trusting, as though he could tell her anything and she’d believe him.

  He closed his fingers into a fist, a fist he’d killed people with. She probably doesn’t even know people such as I exist, that death exists. Not with those eyes. Fuck, even her name conveys innocence.

  “Falyn,” he uttered her name out loud, relishing the way it rolled off his tongue, the syllables musical and light, as pure as she was.

  Who cares how pure she is? He smacked the tablet down on the personal viewscreen, aggravated with his irrational musings. She’s an object to be traded, the key to your sister’s freedom.

  Traz lifted his cap and raked his fingers over his scalp. “Replay Sabria’s last transmission.”

  The sound crackled and popped. ‘Traz…Traz…” Desperation edged his sister’s voice. “…coming for me…Balazoid…call Dreck.” The words faded in and out. “Shit. Traz, please…” He strained to hear the missing words. No matter how high he turned the volume, he couldn’t, the rumble of a ship’s engines drowning out her request. “If you can’t…understand…love…”

  Love. Traz stood, his boots ringing on the metallic floor of the bridge, determined to save the only person he’d ever cared about, even if it killed him. When he’d received that message, half a universe away from Symrah III, he’d nearly lost his mind
, the urge to save Sabria, to protect his sister, tremendous.

  Taking the future-bender will allow me to save her. I must save her. He fastened the Federation flight suit up to his chin, the blue fabric concealing his collar scars. As he exited his craft into the brightness, he grabbed the coded card he’d traded another precious favor for.

  The docking bay was empty of living beings, as Horst had predicted, and there were few shadows to hide in. Traz scanned the immaculate space, noting the expensive state-of-the-art machinery. There were monitoring devices positioned on the metallic pillars. The other two ships in the docking bay were hooked into the main system, making them vulnerable to cyber-attack. Traz shook his head at that foolishness.

  A rolling attendant approached, painted safety yellow. “Insert slip.” Lights flashed around the slot. Traz pushed the card in.

  “Verifying slip,” the system informed him, the automated voice irritatingly happy. Traz waited. “Verifying slip,” it repeated, the loop confirming his virus had successfully infiltrated their high security system. Within minutes, every machine, every communications channel, every line of defense would be disabled, aiding his escape.

  Childishly easy. Traz stalked to the station entrance, keeping his head down, the brim of his Federation-issue cap pulled low, shading his distinctive eyes. He waved his pass over the scanner and the doors slid open.

  Traz blinked, his artificial eye immediately adjusting to the dimmer lighting, the rest of the station clearly preserving precious resources. Beings, predominately humanoid, hustled along the corridors, and he surveyed the personnel badges as they passed, evaluating his enemy. Very few of the employees had more than a couple years of service, the isolated station a relatively safe position for inexperienced soldiers, the war with the Balazoids making military tours for all Federation citizens mandatory.

  War placements for rich kids. Traz stuffed his hands in his pockets and curled his fingers around his guns, knowing from previous merc jobs how trigger-happy fresh recruits could be. He walked with purpose, his heels clicking on the wire mesh floor.

  Four military punks, rifles in their hands, walked shoulder to shoulder toward him, forcing others to squeeze to the edges of the corridor. Recognizing trouble, Traz followed the brunette woman in front of him, her plump frame ensuring there’d be enough room for him to pass.

  She made it through the dickhead parade unscathed. Traz didn’t. One of the arrogant asses fanned out farther, deliberately slamming into his shoulder, a move Traz would have killed a fellow inmate for.

  “Sorry.” Traz forced the apology past his clenched teeth, keeping his focus on retrieving the future-bender and saving his sister.

  “Yeah, you had better be sorry, old man.” The idiot waved his rifle, the arrogant move asking for Traz to twist the weapon from his hands. “I’ve killed people for less.” The others laughed as though killing was a big joke.

  Fools. Traz walked, not having time for a confrontation and not wishing to draw more attention to himself. The crowd around him thinned, staff ducking into side corridors and offices. He eyed the closed metal doors ahead of him and turned into an alcove two corridors away.

  He switched his pilot personnel badge for a doctor’s, Doctor Lance Besserwisser, the only man of six with access to the future-bender. Traz tapped his temple, activating the retinal transfer. His vision slowly faded, the Doctor’s impaired vision rendering his artificial eye nearly blind.

  He stuck his head out of the corridor, looking toward the docking bay. Men and women were frozen in place, staring past him, their expressions stunned.

  What the fuck? Traz turned his head and his jaw dropped.

  Falyn. None of the images had done her justice. She floated toward him, her bare feet skimming the floor, her hair rippling around her shoulders. A sheer dress clung to her slender frame and matched the color of her skin, creating the illusion she was naked. Clear crystals circled her neck, a ring of stars plucked from the sky. She was tiny and otherworldly, her beauty without equal.

  Traz yearned to grab Falyn with his bloodstained hands and pull her to him, merging his scarred body with her pure soul. He’d kiss her until her all-seeing violet eyes softened, and cover her with his coarse skin, his musky scent, branding her, owning her. Making her mine. He licked his lips, his mouth dry, his heart pumping vigorously, sending blood straight to his cock.

  The brute beside her, a huge, hulking, black-leather-clad monster, put his arm around her and Traz growled with jealousy, the urge to claim Falyn as his own overwhelming his caution.

  The man’s head raised and Traz looked into his own face. My twin. He tapped his temple, reverting to his own retinal. Impossible. Traz’s mind spun, unable to explain how the stranger had his scars, his artificial eye and his grim, worlds-hardened expression. I don’t have a twin. I don’t have anyone except Sabria.

  They passed through the door, the beauty and her beast, and Falyn’s lips flattened, the response so fleeting Traz thought he imagined her distress. As the man touched her elbow, she smiled the type of benevolent smile a queen would bestow on her subjects.

  A fake smile. She’s manipulating them…me. Traz straightened, returning his focus to his mission. Falyn passed and he followed her closely, the scent of the rarest, most exotic flowers trailing in her wake. She stiffened as though she was aware of his presence, but she didn’t turn around, heading straight toward the docking bay.

  Men and women stepped aside as she walked, their gazes darting between the monster and the angel, their expressions flipping from horror to wonder. Falyn glided slowly and serenely, her slight shoulders tilted back into Traz, her body less than an arm’s length away.

  “M-m-miss.” A young soldier approached her, his head bobbing with an irritating reverence. “It’s dangerous for you here, miss. You should return to your chambers.”

  “To my chambers.” Her quiet voice lilted with humor, the sound lightening Traz’s heart. “Is that what they’re calling those accommodations now?” She reached out and placed her palm on the man’s chest. He jerked as though shocked. “Brown curls. Blue-and-pink-striped eyes. A cute brown heart-shaped birthmark at the tip of her nose. Here.” She touched her own nose. “As though she’d been kissed with love.”

  The soldier stepped away from her, his face pale, his lips quivering. “T-t-they said it was infatuation, that it’d pass.”

  “Hmmm…” Falyn’s erotic humming coursed through Traz’s body, setting every nerve ending ablaze. “Not for you. It’ll never pass for you. She’s the one.” She floated forward, leaving the man stammering foolishly behind her.

  She’s a master manipulator. Traz nodded, impressed by her skills. She tells men what they want to hear.

  “I don’t have access to the docking bay,” Falyn whispered.

  The docking bay? Where is she going? Traz studied the back of her white-blonde head.

  She looked over her shoulder and her violet-eyed gaze met his, the emotional impact resembling a sucker punch to his gut. “Could you open the door…please?”

  Traz resisted the pull of that breezy please, the urge to do exactly what she asked immense. “You open it.” He pressed the pass into her right hand and brushed his thumb over her unlined palm, savoring her softness.

  Falyn straightened, her flat sheet of hair swishing against the curve of her ass. She silently passed the small square of coding to her henchman, the brute unlucky enough to resemble him. He swiped the card, the door unlocked and they moved into the brightness of the docking bay.

  “He stays here,” Traz rumbled. He grabbed her arm, a fine, slender limb he could easily break with one hand. “I only need you.”

  He needs me. Falyn glanced upward and met his stone-cold gaze. He’s here, finally, and he needs me. As she looked into his unusual eyes, his rough hand warming her bare skin, she forgot about the pain, the electric jolts radiating from her neck blurring into nothing.

  “My collar has a tracking device.” She touched the band around her neck,
the crystals smooth against her fingertips. “We need him to shield the signal.” The man opened his mouth and she rushed to assure him, the man she was destined to love, the man she’d been waiting her entire life for. “John’s programmed not to hurt you.”

  “He’s an android.” The man steered her toward a dark, dented mongrel of a ship, the panels different colors of silver and black as though the vessel had been pieced together from leftover parts. She stared and he chuckled softly, a joyful sound she’d never expect him to make. “It’s safe, Falyn.”

  “You know my name.” Her happiness swiftly turned to dismay. “I don’t know yours.”

  “Yet you trust me with your life.” He examined her and Falyn cringed, recognizing his expression, having seen it on the face of every human she’d ever met.

  He thinks I’m a freak. She remained silent, not wishing to talk about love and destinies, a discussion that would confirm his suspicions. I am a freak.

  “My name’s Traz, for what it’s worth.”

  “Traz,” she repeated, the name as hard as the man. Why did I think he’d be different? Her eyes stung, watering from both disappointment and pain. “We should leave.”

  Traz stared at her. “The android first, then you.” He waved his big hand.

  Falyn followed John and Traz stalked behind her, her smaller form sandwiched between the two males. The door closed after Traz and shadows enveloped them, the dimmer light peaceful.

  “Freedom, engage,” Traz growled, his deep voice settling low in Falyn’s womb. The ship rumbled to life, the metallic floor shaking under her bare feet.

  “Stand here, back against the wall,” Traz ordered John. Her android, programmed to obey him, complied, pressing his spine against the plain silver wall. “Restrain.” Thick scary metal bands strapped around her android’s torso.

  Falyn stepped away from the wall, standing in the middle of the small empty room. “There’s no need to restrain him. John won’t hurt you.” She clutched her hands together, her body racked with more and more pain. “And he has to remove my collar.”