From At the Mercy of Her Pleasure
by Kayelle Allen
*********************************************************************************************************
Tarthian Empire, Kelthia, Miraj City
The Ghost Nightclub
Captain NarrAy Jorlan of the All People's Liberation Army leaned against the third-floor balcony railing, counting her blessings she wasn't on the cramped dance floor below. She and Broxus, her human security escort, had worn appropriate party clothes to the Ghost, and she was starting to think her low-cut red gown might not have been the best choice.
Even her staid assistant had gone googly-eyed when he'd seen her.
She resisted the urge to plug a finger into each ear. The noise level where she stood was merely painful rather than deafening. Her Kin aide moved around down there, lost among the heaving bodies. Kin all seemed to like this sort of place. Noisy, crammed with sweating people. More like crammed with sweating males. What is it with Kin and the smell of sweat anyway?
Two Betters posed at the bar and surveyed the crowd. Her kind were visible from miles away. Perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect bodies. Perfectly lonely life. Everyone wanted the pheromone-induced lust a Better could provide. Few desired their addictive nature. And since the Better Laws were enacted, even fewer dared taste the exquisite pleasure.
Just down from the Betters, her aide turned from the bar to flirt with someone in the crowd.
As long as he wasn't a HalfKin, NarrAy didn't care. The last thing she needed was copbots poking into their activities. Another disappearance around her aide would force NarrAy to cut her loose from employment.
The APLA might shelter thieves, ruffians, and even cold-blooded assassins, but not a suspected serial killer, no matter how innocent NarrAy insisted her aide was.
Turning from the railing, NarrAy moved back into the room where the Harbinger had agreed to meet. Broxus came to attention.
"Any word?" NarrAy asked.
He touched one ear, listening. "Not yet, ma'am."
She noticed he refused to look directly at her. Oh, yes. The dress was definitely a mistake.
"Tell me about the Harbinger."
He glanced toward her feet. "Didn't you meet him, ma'am?"
NarrAy rubbed her arms and shivered.
Broxus flipped open his note reader and tapped the screen. "I see you have. Luc Saint-Cyr's reputation is more chilling than his all black eyes. He's been tied to everything but prostitution and homicide, but never arrested. We think that's because no one speaks up against him. Folks around here talk about him like he's their father."
She snorted a laugh. "I have a little trouble picturing him as the 'daddy' type."
"From what we can tell, he looks out for his people. There's no crime in his territory. One thing's for sure--" Broxus turned off the note reader and tucked it into his pocket, "--no one crosses him. Police can't get a snitch anywhere close."
"And Senthys Antonello? Anything more on him?"
"No, ma'am. The name's known, but that's all. No arrests. No warrants. Rumors are he's young, but nobody talks. His Thieve's Guild ranking is Advanced Interior Security, Level Nineteen, which means he can break into government holding areas."
"Exactly what we need."
Head tilted, Broxus lifted two fingers to his ear. He nodded to NarrAy, then motioned with his fingers towards the door.
NarrAy turned, brushing a hand down the front of her dress. She held herself more erect. After two knocks, the door opened.
The Harbinger stepped inside, another person behind him.
"Ms. Jorlan," Saint-Cyr said, with a slight bow.
She clenched her teeth behind her returned smile. Those whiteless eyes made it impossible to see if he was looking at her, or what part of her if he was.
"Mr. Saint-Cyr." She interwove her fingers behind her waist. The customary handshake of greeting wasn't an option because the Better Laws forbade unnecessary touching.
"May I present my protégé, Senthys Antonello." The Harbinger gestured to the dark-haired handsome youth with him. "Senthys, this is Ms. NarrAy Jorlan."
"Ms. Jorlan." Senth extended a hand. To his credit, he met her eyes, his gaze never straying.
NarrAy ignored his hand.
"My apologies, ma'am." The Harbinger nudged Senth. "Betters don't touch others, Son."
The boy glanced up at him with clear surprise. NarrAy had the impression he reacted to the title son rather than the belated instruction.
"Yes, sir." He ducked his head. "My apologies, ma'am. I didn't know."
"Quite all right." She motioned to Lieutenant Broxus. "Please show Mr. Saint-Cyr and his son to the door."
Broxus did not hesitate. "This way, sir."
"Ms. Jorlan?" The Harbinger's head turned from her to Broxus and then back. "Is something wrong?"
"I contracted with you for a professional, not a child."
The exasperated grunt from Senth made her look at him.
"I am not a child!" He turned to the Harbinger. "Master, tell her my qualifications."
"Senthys is more than qualified. As to his youth?" Saint-Cyr shrugged. "He has a baby face."
NarrAy scrutinized the Harbinger. Had she just seen him obey an order? There's more to this boy than I thought.
"Believe me, Ms. Jorlan," Senth said, "I can do whatever you contracted for. I'm no child."
NarrAy made a slow perusal down his lean yet muscular frame. Huge, pale eyes the color of a dawn sky, with the feline irises of a Kin. Nothing else catlike about-- Ooh, would you look at those irresistible little fangs… She licked her lips. Wonder how they'd feel on my tongue?
Shiny, dark hair fell to Senth's shoulders, worn loose the way she preferred. Mmm, what a luscious looking man. He had golden skin and symmetrical features not unlike a Better, yet muted. Not a dazzling beauty, but a beauty nonetheless. A physical presence. Leashed energy. And he's not intimidated by Betters. Well, well.
"Come, Senthys," Saint-Cyr said. "Ms. Jorlan does not--"
"Wait." NarrAy spoke to Senth. "Do you have gloves?"
Broxus lurched forward.
She stopped him with a lifted hand.
"Yes, ma'am." Senth started to pull them on.
Saint-Cyr stretched out a hand to stop Senth. "I don't think that's a good idea, Son. It's against the law to touch a Better."
Again, NarrAy caught Senth's faint look of surprise. She flashed a look of irritation at Broxus, who backed away.
Senth's mouth widened into a smile. "The law's never stopped us before, master."
Saint-Cyr frowned, but moved aside.
NarrAy offered her hand. She'd practiced this with her father hundreds of times, hoping for the chance to one day use the knowledge he'd imparted. A gentleman doesn't try to overpower a lady's hand, NarrAy. But he isn't afraid to be firm, either.
She held Senth's gloved hand between both of hers.
"I can see you're a gentleman, Mr. Antonello."
His cheeks reddened. "Just Senth, ma'am."
"NarrAy. Never Ms. Jorlan, nor ma'am. Not on this job." She gave his hand a strong squeeze. "Understood?"
He smiled into her eyes. "Does that mean you want me?" He blushed again and glanced down at their still joined hands. "For the job, I mean."
She bit back a laugh. What a little innocent you are. "So long as we're clear on who's in charge."
He inclined his head. "You are, NarrAy. In every way."
You have no idea. She grinned at him. He had never once tried to look at her body. Maybe this dress will be okay after all.
"Come sit down." Still holding his hand, she gestured toward an adjacent room. "Let's talk business."
