Havoc

21 Sex-Pain Pleasure Games

Dred left the wake early.

It didn’t surprise her when Jael broke away from the group he was drinking with and went with her as she left the common room. Her stomach roiled with grief and cheap liquor; the stuff they produced in the still barely qualified as a nontoxic substance. But it would’ve been out of place if she’d refused to drink in Ike’s honor. The Queenslanders would continue all night, getting drunk and telling stories.

“I’m not in the mood to talk,” she said, without turning around.

“Neither am I.”

“Yet here we are. Talking.”

When his hand came down on her shoulder, she reacted. She spun and slammed him against the wall. Pain and regret lashed her like gale-force winds, and she was barely holding together. She had no patience for his bullshit at the moment. Whatever he had in mind, she just wanted to be left alone. The scene kept playing through her head while she tried to figure out if there was a way she could’ve saved everyone.

“Tell me to leave you be.” His blue gaze was steady.

I never looked for this. I don’t want it.

But she couldn’t speak the words, so he slid his hand down her arm and laced their fingers together. She didn’t ask as he pulled her toward what had become their quarters. Once inside, he secured the door and stepped back. Dred stripped off her armor, each movement emphasizing her mood. She wanted to chuck the pieces against the wall, but since Ike had died as part of their retrieval, she set them down carefully. Each time she clicked the segments into place, she’d feel the weight of Ike’s death.

“Scream if you need to. Hit me. You can’t cut loose out there, where everyone can see. You’re the Dread Queen, immovable and infallible.”

That was the crux of the problem because she so obviously wasn’t. With better planning, Ike would be alive and installing the turrets they’d brought back. That was a problem she’d deal with later; she had no idea if anyone else could make the tech work. Vix and Zediah were probably the next best with such things.

“You think I can cry on command?” Quite the contrary—her eyes burned bone-dry even as loss and regret rose and fell within her like the sea.

“Hey, I’m trying. This isn’t my forte.”

“Then get out. Go drink some more.”

“Now that’s just cruel, love. You’d send me to my doom because I don’t know the right words for the occasion?” He paused, apparently watching her face, and added, “That shit causes liver failure, and I don’t heal like I used to.”

A reluctant smile escaped her. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

“You’re a clever thing.” His tone was soft.

“And you’re wrecking me.” She spun away, feeling as if she had glass bones. Dred sucked in several sharp breaths before she felt able to face him again.

When she turned, he was too close. “Excuse me?”

“I stand alone. That’s the way it works.”

“Then maybe it’s time to change the system. Before it breaks you.” He took a step toward her, and she shoved him in reflex.

He caught her wrists in his hands and pulled her toward him. She fought without even considering why she couldn’t stand his warmth. When it became clear he wasn’t letting go, she went limp in his hold, startling him into loosening his hands. She folded into a ball, arms wrapped tight around her knees. The urge to scream as he’d invited rose, an endless clamor in her head. She couldn’t count all the times she had brought a problem to Ike, who’d always listened with infinite patience and kindness.

To her chagrin, Jael knelt and wrapped his arms around her taut back. She clenched her teeth until her jaw hurt, then she slammed her head back against his shoulder. He grunted, but he didn’t let go. Dred hovered mere millimeters away from losing all control. She strangled the urge to pummel Jael and rake his face with her nails, not because she truly wanted to hurt him but because he was here, and he wouldn’t leave her the frag alone.

“You don’t know how to take a hint,” she growled.

“It’s never come up. I have encounters, not relationships. So nobody’s ever asked me to go, mostly because I was already gone.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Hell if I know.” His hands were gentle, at odds with his offhand tone.

She sucked in a shuddering breath and realized there was one thing he could give her that would shut off her brain for a while. “Would you mind if I objectify you a little?”

“Just a little?” His mouth quirked in a half smile.

“Until we’re exhausted and can’t think anymore.” She followed the words by going in for a kiss, and he met her halfway.

His lips were a blaze of pure fire, kindling all of her cold and desolate spaces. She wrapped her arms around his neck and bit down in surprise when he rose with her in his arms. I always forget that he’s stronger than he looks. Jael carried her to the bunk, and she pulled off her clothes in reckless urgency. Better to be stupid like this. Once they were both naked, she pushed him back and came down on top of him.

“One of these days—” But she didn’t let him finish.

A hungry kiss. Another. Until his hands dug into her hips, and he moved beneath her with ever-increasing need. Dred poured everything into him, making his body a canvas upon which she painted all the fear and grief, all the loss, and it transformed into the pulse of desire. She ran her lips down his neck, then bit. He twisted under her, hips bucking.

Dred took him then, but the moment she did, he rolled, so they were facing one another. It wasn’t enough like Artan’s preferred posture of ownership to mess with her head, but it was strange and intimate. She made a sound of protest, then he stole her breath with a long, determined stroke. Their legs were tangled; this position was a little awkward, but it took away the pretense that she was in charge. This way, he wasn’t either.

Jael drew her closer still in a haze of soft, drugging kisses. His hands played down her back in teasing patterns, so she pricked his shoulders with her nails, a demand or a reminder, she wasn’t sure which. It was hard to think with the pleasure drumming in her ears. He pressed deep and held; she cracked open like a ripe fruit, spilling cries and tears. Dred didn’t realize she was crying until he pulled back, leaving only his arms to hold her. She wept into his bare shoulders, smearing him with salt and sorrow. He was still hard, pressed against her belly, but he seemed more focused on comforting her than searching for satisfaction.

“There’s something wrong with you,” she whispered.

“I know, love. People have been telling me that for ages.” His voice sounded deep and low through the tangle of her hair.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You let me use you. But you didn’t—”

“That’s not the beginning and end of everything. It’s a flicker, really. As it turns out, I appreciate other pleasures more.”

“Such as?”

“Feeling you come apart in my arms, knowing you trust me with your fear.”

Oh, Mary. The truth of it hit her like a metal ballast. But even as she choked on the realization, he was kissing her face gently. Each brush of his lips felt like it might pull her apart, snapping bones and sinew until she was a series of disconnected components. Desperate to reassert control, she shoved him away. He moved as if to leave the bed, but she put a hand on his chest.

“I believe in fair play. It’s your turn.”

If he had protested, she would’ve stopped. But she glimpsed cognition of her motives in his blue eyes, which made it simultaneously better and worse. Jael settled against the pillows as she went to work with her mouth. He twisted and writhed, just as he was supposed to, but even when he lost control, arched in a perfect bow, hands tangled in her hair, she never lost the sense that he had won this battle—that something had permanently shifted between them.

Afterward, he drew her up into his arms. Shaken, she rested her head on his chest and listened to his heart. Nothing unusual about the sound, no sign he was anything but human.

“Do you think you can sleep?” he asked.

“Probably. The better question is if I should be able to.”

“If I thought it would help, I’d tell you it wasn’t your fault. It was bad timing or luck or some combination of the two. Ike wouldn’t blame you.”

“If I could, I’d ask him,” she said softly.

“I know.”

She sighed, rolling onto her side to face him. “This is so backward.”

“What is?”

“This.” Dred gestured at their proximity. “Everything about us. I need to stay away from you, but I never follow through.”

He flinched, such a fleeting expression that if she hadn’t been so close, she would have missed it. And the words sounded as if they were being dragged out of him with hooks and wires. “If you really think this is a mistake—”

She put two fingers to his mouth. “Against my better judgment, yes, but . . . I’d be lost without you, Jael.”

He kissed her hand, then pulled it away from his mouth, so he could tuck his face against her neck. “I should’ve realized I needed to go all the way to hell to find my soul.”