Abigail looked around, her golden head peeking out from beneath the blanket I’d used to conceal her face from the many vid monitors on the station. “Is this where we’re staying?”
“Yes. These quarters belong to Styx legion. We will be safe here, Abigail.”
“Abby. My friends call me Abby.” She turned her head to look up at me and my gaze locked with hers. Everything faded. I swayed on my feet, suddenly unsteady.
“Abby.” I tried it out, found I liked the sound of her name on my tongue.
She smiled up at me and my cock jumped; the air froze in my throat.
Fuck, I was in trouble. I barely knew her, and already I could not control my body’s responses. Would I lose control completely once I fucked her? Or would this burning need subside?
It had to calm. I could not function like this. Would be unable to hunt.
And her face. Her eyes. She looked so…young.
“How old are you?”
Her expression changed instantly, her gaze narrowing, her lips forming a hard, firm line. “Old enough to know what I want.”
“That’s not an answer. I am too old for you. Too hard. You should choose another male.” There. I’d stated the obvious. She had yet to see my face beneath the paint I’d worn on the hunt, the streaks of gray at my temples—not just from age but from the stress of the hunt. She was youth and beauty and innocence. I was pain and consequence. Death.
If she walked away now, I could let her go. Send her back to Earth to be matched to someone worthy in the Coalition Fleet. Someone younger, gentler.
Anyone but me.
“Why would I choose someone else? Warden Egara said we were a nearly perfect match.”
“And what if she’s wrong?”
“Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know. But I am not gentle, Abby. I am cruel. Brutal. Even the people in my legion are frightened of me.” She wiggled a bit and I obliged, setting her on her feet, once more shocked at her size. The top of her head barely reached my chest. So small. So fragile. So breakable.
“Is that so?” Abby wandered the room, touching things, running her hands over the soft fabrics covering the dark furniture. The room was designed for comfort, and already I could imagine spending hours here making Abby mine. I would bend her over the sofa and take her from behind. Settle her in the chair, spread her legs wide and feast on her pussy until she begged me to fuck her. There was a bath large enough for me to hold her in my arms and gently clean every inch of her before taking her again.
And again.
The blanket she wore dropped off one of her shoulders, exposing the skin there, the side of her neck, the upper swell of one small, perfectly formed breast.
My fangs extended, eager to bite the pale curve of her shoulder.
Fuck. I was becoming an animal.
She peeked into the bathing chamber, walked past the kitchen area and ran her fingertips along the edge of the S-Gen machine, the technology we used to create everything we needed to survive from pure energy. Clothing. Food. Everything. She paused, her nose crinkling in a way I immediately found endearing. “Elena told me about these. You can make anything you want, right?” She turned to look up at me.
“Yes.”
“And it’s programmed with human food, too? Because of the woman mated to Prime Nial?”
“Yes. That is the rumor. I do not know why the Coalition Fleet chooses to program what they do. I am not part of the Coalition, Abby. I am part of a criminal organization that operates in Coalition space.”
“Oh, I know. She told me.”
“Who?”
“Warden Egara. Back on Earth.”
“And that doesn’t bother you? The fact that your mate is a smuggler? A hunter? A killer?”