“That’s because he knows nothing,” Jaxon muttered. Another lie, of course. He knew a lot more than even his boss assumed. And as Marie and Thomas muttered between themselves, some of the memories began flickering through Jaxon’s mind.
“You and you alone will work this one,” Jack Pagosa had said, handing him a sealed golden folder. Jack’s usually ruddy face had been pale, his eyes constantly darting to the office door as if he expected someone to burst inside at any moment, gun in hand. His thick salt-and-pepper hair stood on end, his hands plowing through it every few seconds.
“Why me?” Jaxon had asked as he’d plopped into the seat in front of his boss’s desk, immediately wanting to snatch back the words. He knew why, and no one liked to hear they were being given a job simply because they were the last option, the only person available.
Mia Snow, Jack’s right-hand agent, was busy training New Chicago’s newest recruits, young girls fresh from boot camp. And Mia’s partner, Dallas, had been unstable ever since his recovery from a near-death experience.
Jack popped a handful of antacids, chewed, swallowed audibly. “Not why you’re thinking, obviously. One, you’re the calmest man I know. And two, you can get answers out of a dead man.” More antacids. “Oh, yeah. And the fewer people who know those answers, the less chance of panic. This is all very hush-hush.”
Later that night, when Jaxon opened the folder and began reading, he hadn’t felt calm. He’d felt panicked.
Seemed a new alien race had snuck their way onto the planet.
Government was calling them Schön. Beautiful in German. There’d been a few sightings here and there, and their numbers seemed to be small. No more than eleven, so no big deal. After all, a new alien race seemed to arrive every f**king day. Not that he was bitter or anything. What brought the Schön under A.I.R. scrutiny, however, was the fact that they excreted some kind of toxic liquid.
The liquid not only killed, it did something far worse.
These otherworlder men were, apparently, so lovely to gaze upon, human women were throwing themselves at them. And every woman who did so ended up in the hospital with grade-nine hallucinations, losing touch with reality more and more every day until finally developing a hunger for human flesh they couldn’t suppress.
Jaxon had interviewed them in both the beginning and ending stages of the sickness. His stomach rolled with the memory. He hadn’t told anyone what he’d learned and wasn’t going to until he’d processed the information himself. Panic? Jack had no idea.
After the interviews, well, the women had needed to be put down like animals and Jaxon had been the one to do it. He’d hated himself for it, still hated himself, but there’d been no other recourse. Those females would have eaten their own young—literally—if they’d been allowed to live.
He should be on the streets right now, hunting the Schön. Until they were destroyed, more and more victims would surface. Didn’t take a psychic to figure that out, just a person with half a brain. Jaxon qualified. Right now, he felt like only half of his remained. If he didn’t get out there soon…
You know Jack. He’s got someone on the streets already, doing what you were supposed to be doing. Jaxon tried to take comfort in that.
“What thoughts tumble through your mind, hmm?”
Jaxon blinked, the woman inside his cell coming into gradual focus. He must have drifted, because he hadn’t heard her move, yet she was now crouched in front of him. Her long legs straddled his and she was gently cupping his cheeks in her soft hands. One of her palms was warm, the other cool and silky, as if it were covered by some kind of material and ice was packed underneath.
Though his vision was murky and distilled, he was quite certain he’d never been closer to perfection. Her eyes were mesmerizing onyx and framed by midnight. Her skin was pale and smooth, lickable cream. Her nose perfectly sloped. Her cheekbones a work of art. Her lips a fantasy come to life. Plump, red, luscious, the kind of lips a man usually had to pay for to enjoy.
Her scent was stronger now, all the better, and he thought he caught a hint of jasmine. Wild, exotic. Like the woman herself?
Like it mattered. Much as he wanted to, he didn’t delude himself. She was a professional torturer and killer, had probably studied the human body so that she knew every sensitive place and the best ways to enforce maximum pain.
“You won’t even give me a tiny little hint?” she beseeched, her long lashes fluttering, beckoning him deeper into the black sea of her gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Hint?” He played stupid. Sadly, it was not a difficult task. “Hint about what?”
What was she wearing?
Finally, a silver lining to his ravaged face. He couldn’t see clearly enough to discern her clothing, which meant, in his mind, she was wearing lingerie. Black, like her eyes. With sheer lace. She had small br**sts, but they were soft and pink-tipped.
Despite his condition, his dick lengthened, thickened, hardened.
Marie gave a sweet little gasp, as if she felt that hardness, but didn’t move away. “I didn’t expect such a response from you. You’re surprising me at every turn, Jaxon Tremain.”
She spoke as if she were weaving a spell, soft and melodic, her voice lulling him, drawing him in and holding him under. What would she sound like during orgasm?
Damn, where were these thoughts coming from?
He heard Thomas groan impatiently, but he didn’t care. “You should unchain me,” he told Marie, using his most seductive voice. “We should go on a date.”
A pause, a frown. Her head tilted to the side as she studied him more intently. Frown deepening, she reached for his left wrist, caught herself, and stilled. She gulped and licked her lips. “And what would we do on this date?”
Jaxon imagined he heard a wistful note in her tone. “We’d have lots and lots of fun.”
“Oh, really.” Her frown softened at the edges, adding all kinds of sexy to her expression. “My type of fun or yours?”
He knew what she was asking: pain or pleasure. “Mine, but I’m sure we could incorporate some of yours if you asked me nicely.”
“Marie, this is—” Thomas interrupted.
Her entire body stiffened, and her chin whipped to the side as she pierced the alien with a fierce glare. “Shut it, Thomas. You’ve already pissed me off once. Want to make it twice?”
Silence.
Jaxon latched onto the chance to examine her more closely. In profile, her chin had a stubborn jut to it and her ear was studded with multiple diamonds. She had shoulder-length hair, straight as a ruler, and he wished he had the strength to reach up and sift the pale velvet strands through his fingers. Wished he had the good fortune to have the strands spread over his thighs while she sucked him dry. Like you can handle that right now, idiot.