Page 11 of Phoenix's Last Heist
“And here’s your room. I’ll clean it up a bit while you shower, and I think I have some spare clothes in a locker downstairs that might fit you,” Lyra says, showing me into a small berth off the ship’s main corridor. The room is covered in a layer of grime an inch thick and half-empty crates are strewn about, each one containing some random assortment of expired food supplies, old computer parts, greasy rags, and yellowed paperback romance novels from Earth. Still, the accommodations are far nicer than I’d imagined they would be.
“Given the reluctance with which you agreed to our bargain, I’m surprised that I’m not stuck in some filthy, dark hold belowdecks,” I say, absentmindedly picking up one of the ancient paperbacks and smirking.
She snatches the book from my hands and glares at me.
“The filthy, dark hold is available if you continue to piss me off,” she barks, cradling the book to her chest.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I say, turning my attention toward the rumpled, dust-covered bunk. Tugging the dirty blanket off the bed, I uncover a set of garments that resembles underwear, but has four leg holes. I hold it up between my thumb and forefinger, raising a questioning brow at her. She dives for it and shoves the item in the pocket of her mud-caked shorts.
“Space is lonely,” she snaps, cheeks flushing. “And I like human romance novels. Happy?” Her voice is sharp enough to cut through the air, but there’s something brittle under it—a crack she doesn’t want me to see.
Sensing I’d made more than a flirtatious misstep, I raise my hands in surrender and take a seat on the edge of the bed. “I was only curious why you’re suddenly being so accommodating, given you promised to kick my ass less than a day ago. You don’t seem particularly put out by the fact that I have every right and reason to turn you into the Feds at any time, and now you’re being forced to take me to your dealers.”
“We made a bargain,” she says simply. “Despite whatever misconceptions you’re laboring under regarding who I am, I don’t go back on my word. And call me crazy, but I get the sense you don’t, either.”
“I do not.”
“Well, there you have it. We can play nicely until our business is at an end. I’m more than a little flexible,” she says, tossing her long braid of pink-streaked hair over her shoulder.
Whether she intends the words to be taken at face value or laced with libidinous intent, blood rushes to every inconvenientextremity. My heart thuds in my ribcage and my gaze reflexively caresses her body.How flexible…my traitorous thoughts start to venture.
“Yeah, you’ll have to deal with that, by the way,” she says in a singsong tone. “We’re going to be handling some serious shit on this fun little adventure, and I can’t have you getting all hot and bothered every time we’re in some cramped space together. This is a small spaceship, you know.”
“Wha…what?” I stammer, trying to shake the wave of intense lust from my mind.
Heat floods my neck and ears, my synesfores pulsing with awareness. I drag a hand through my hair, suddenly aware of how close she’s standing—and how easily she reads me. Stars, she’s enjoying this. I force myself to look anywhere but at her mouth. She smiles at me, but there’s an unnerving edge to it.
“My mother is—was—Velusian. One of the last full-blooded heads of the pleasure houses. Surely you’re familiar with the stories…I mean, just because you haven’t been off-world in decades doesn’t mean you’re that ignorant, right?”
I struggle to focus amid the haze of desire—Stars, her breasts are perfection—and the rising ire at her insults. She casts a pitying look in my direction and sighs.
“Velusians have been bred for pleasure since the universe was mostly clouds of dust and little baby protoplanets. Desire is their stock and trade. The closer you get to one, especially in an enclosed space, the more you can scent theirvellia. It’s a kind of one-size-fits-all pheromone meant to drive anyone wild with—how can I put it politely?—overwhelming horniness. The more anxious, stressed or fearful we get, the more we exude—like a built-in chemical weapon against violence. Sometimes it kicks in when we’re aroused, but it’s more of a defense thing. It’s hard to kill something you want to fuck so badly.” A flicker of pain crosses her face. “Though it does happen.”
I suspect pressing her for more information on that particular topic would earn me a knee in my groin, so I leave the interrogation alone for now.
She slides the room’s metal door closed and takes a step toward me. Closing her eyes, she places her hands on my chest, as if she’s waiting for something.
I lean away from her, caught between the worry about her bizarre abilities and the magnetic pull I feel for her. Panic starts to build in me. I don’twantto want her this way.
“There’s no need for you to...” I begin. But then, it hits me like an asteroid slamming into the ground, devastating everything for miles around.
The wanting.No, it isn’twant.It’sneed.Stars, I need her. I need to wrap her pink chocolate hair around my knuckles and slide my aching cock into her pretty petal lips. To rest seated on her tongue before sliding down her throat…no, that won’t be enough. I need her bent in front of me on all fours, spread open like a feast for my eyes, hands, lips, and tongue. I’ll give her such pleasure, she’ll buckle beneath me, thread her fingers through my chest and around my heart, until the boundaries separating our bodies evaporate into the pure energy of love. Yes.Yes.I love her, that’s all there is to it. I love her and I would kill for her. I would die for her.
I can’t help myself. I reach for her, sliding my hands up the back of her neck, intent on pulling her lips to mine. I have to claim her—my very soul depends on it.
She flinches at my touch, and I freeze, hovering above her lips, ready to detonate with a kiss like a world-ending bomb.
“Ada, ventilate the rooms in the living quarters, pod 3,” she murmurs, stepping back.
The low whir of fans and soft breeze clears the stale air from the room, and after a few heart-pounding moments, helps to dissipate some of the chaotic desire that has taken hold of mybody. Horror grips me at how out of control I felt, how close I was to sinking to my knees and begging to worship her—how willing I’d been in courting my own destruction in the face of keen sexual need.
She notes the anger and disgust on my face and nods, satisfied.
“Good. You get it. I can keep a lid on it most of the time,” she says. “It’s worse from a full-blooded Velusian, so you can thank my reprobate human father for the diluted blood. Also, it’s notcompletelyuniversal. Some species are totally immune to it—including Void Stalkers. Actually, I don’t think they desire much beyond torment and death, so trying to use sex as a weapon against them is pointless.”
“Pointless,” I echo thickly. It’s taking too long for my head to clear—I need to get away from her. I shift to leave, but she holds out her hand.
“No need to run, I’m outta here. I just wanted you to understand. You and I have struck a bargain—nothing more. As soon as I take you to the second dealer, I’ll drop you back on Xylothia and we’re done for good. I go on my merry way and you keep your mouth shut to the Feds. That was the deal. Anything you think you might feel for me is a lie, thanks to my overbearing mother’s obnoxious genetics. Don’t trust it.”
