Page 21 of Phoenix's Last Heist
“I’m not looking for fashion,” I mutter. “I’m just looking for something that fits!”
Lyra’s hand appears over the curtain, clutching a moss green tunic and a pair of soft brown pants. As soon as I grab them from her, her hand reappears with a piping hot pie wrapped in brown paper.
“What’s this?” I grunt, my mouth already watering with the smell of buttery pastry and fragrant, spicy filling.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” she says in between mouthfuls of her own food. “I got you the veggie one.”
“You…what?”
“You don’t eat meat, right?” she asks. “Ada told me it’s forbidden for your people. Taboo, or whatever.”
“That’s correct,” I reply, taken aback by the fact that she’d cared enough to ask. She waves the pie over the curtain enticingly.
“Are you going to eat it, or not? It smells amazing. I’ll happily have yours if you’re going to be all weird about it.”
I pluck it from her hand and bite into it, unable to contain my moan of pleasure. After a full week of pills, powders, and bland bars that hardly qualify as “food” beyond their ability to meet basic nutritional requirements, sinking my teeth into the flaky, golden crust and zesty, creamy vegetable filling makes me almost weep with relief.
After I demolish the remaining lunch, I turn my attention back to the pile of garments Lyra has instructed the shop owner to supply.
“Hurry up and pick some stuff out,” she whines, her mouth still full. I’m light years more tolerant of her attitude after eating, so I comply by tugging on the tunic and trousers she’s just handed me. They fit me adequately, though the tunic is made to hang to one’s knees and only comes to mid-thigh on me. I shuckthe outfit and try on another one—an Earth-style suit of smooth black fabric.
“This is too…formal,” I say. “I’ll just take the green shirt and brown pants.”
“You need the suit for Minaris,” Lyra says, her mouth full of food again. “We’re going to be in disguise there, too, but more so for my sake than for yours. I’m less than welcome on that planet.”
I feel a flare of guilt at endangering her, all so I can get some names to hand over to the Feds—especially when there’s no guarantee they’ll do anything with them.
“Is it unsafe?” I ask quietly.
She chuckles. “This whole mission is unsafe,my lord.” The last words drip with sarcasm since we’re alone in the shop. “I did warn you about that back on Xylothia.”
I open my mouth to reply, but the wet sounds of her licking crumbs from her fingers kindles the desire in my blood like a forest fire in the dry season. My cock hardens in the black silk trousers and I bite my lip to fight for control again. I don’t trust it. It’s not real. We’re playing parts, which would make her more anxious, so maybe this is just a spike ofvellia. Or maybe…maybe it’s worse than that. Maybe she’s trying to drive me into mindless want so I’ll let her go without the names of her buyers and without informing the Feds. The pounding of blood in my veins goading me with the feral need to claim her seems to be answer enough. Every lesson I’ve ever learned about restraint is collapsing, one heartbeat at a time.
But no. She wouldn’t do that, would she? We’re supposed to be working together here.
Logic is the barest whisper in my mind, but it’s quickly drowned out by the steady drumbeat of my pulse, which throbs in time to the salacious fantasies of pumping into her in somesacred, doomed, perfect rhythm. Her musical voice cuts through my attempts at concentration.
“If you hurry up with the shopping, I’ll let you have dessert.”
7
lyra
Never Trust a Space Pirate
I almost dropthe second pastry when Orion flings the curtain back and pins me with a scorching glare. The black trousers cling to his thick thighs and the jacket hangs perfectly across his shoulders, but he isn’t wearing anything underneath. His dark freckles flicker down his muscular torso, trailing low down the line of exposed skin showing between the jacket lapels.
I choke on the pie, breathing in the flaky crumbs and sweet gnuberry filling. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his eyes never straying from mine.
“You’re supposed to wear a shirt under that suit. The white one with the buttons down the front.”
“What are you doing?” he grits out, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, vibrating with anger.
“What are you talking about? Did you hit your head in there or something? We’re getting you clothes so we can sneak our way onto Minaris. And so you’ll stop complaining,” I reply, taking an involuntary step back. The look in his eyes heats me from the inside out and my knees are starting to feel wobbly.
“Cut it out,” he growls, grabbing my wrist. “I know you’re trying to play me!”
“Okay, what theactualfuck are you talking about?” I ask, confusion and lust warring in my brain.
