“You know I hate when you do that, and you have to know I’m staring at your control panel right now.” His tone was silky and smooth, daring her.

A few times over the years she’d watched him interact with others, people he considered his peers. He’d treated them with affection, lavishing smiles and praise. Genuine, too. That’s what had amazed her most, since he’d never shown her anything but contempt. Her, he taunted. He used. He threatened.

“One press of a button, and you’re dead.”

“Yes, one press of a button and your billion-dollar android is gone. No more dirty work being done for you. No more whoring for you. Don’t forget that.”

A sharp pain suddenly ripped through her head, and she groaned. She’d known better. Defiance was met with suffering, every damn time. Don’t beg for mercy, don’t you dare beg.

The pain continued, savaging her mind, burning away the hatred and resentment she harbored for her boss. Or burying it so deep it no longer mattered. Relief was her only concern as black spots winked over her vision. Her heart convulsed as though a hand had reached inside her chest and squeezed. Her lungs closed off. Much longer and her skull would burst. Much longer—

“Stop,” she finally begged.

It didn’t. The ache spread, her legs throbbing as if knives were sliding in and out of the bones. Don’t make another noise. Don’t say another word. She pressed her lips together, and tears filled her eyes. Any second she would pass out. Too much, it was too much. The pain—

“Please.” She couldn’t stop the word from escaping.

As suddenly as it appeared, the pain ceased. She was panting, she realized a moment later. Sweat was pouring from her, causing her clothes to plaster to her body, yet her blood felt cold as ice inside her veins.

“You were saying, Le’Ace?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and ground her teeth, willing herself to calm. Always calm. Numbness was her only friend. She knew that, wouldn’t forget again. She hoped.

“You’ll have your answers. Sir.”

CHAPTER 3

Jaxon. Wake up for me, honey.”

The husky, familiar voice tugged at him, dragging him from contented sleep to agonizing hellfire. Strangely, he didn’t mind the pain because the voice belonged to the woman in his dreams, the angel-demon who wanted to both fuck and kill him.

Mmm, being fucked to death didn’t sound half bad just then. Pleasure, release, then ultimately, eternal peace. Could a man truly ask for more?

“Jaxon.”

This time the voice sounded fuzzy, convoluted, as if the single word had been shoved through a pool of water and had done a tap dance with a school of fish before registering in his brain.

Jaxon tried to pry his eyelids apart, couldn’t. No matter what he did, he couldn’t fucking open them and only managed to hurt them all the more, the skin seeming to tear in thousands of tiny places. What the hell?

Don’t panic. Think. First, where was he? Something soft cushioned his back. A bed? Warm breath caressed his neck. The woman? Yes, yes. She was beside him. A memory suddenly played through his mind: brass knuckles drilling into his eye socket, cracking the bone. He frowned. Had she fought him?

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Eyes.”

“I didn’t understand. Say that again.”

“Eyes.”

“Oh, your eyes. Your lids are glued together. Your corneas were damaged and every time you opened them, you made them worse.”

He shifted toward her, craving more of her warmth, more of her exhalations against his too-sensitive skin. Nausea instantly churned in his stomach, threatening to spew past his raw, constricted throat. He swallowed the disgusting burn of it before breathing in and out to steady himself.

What’s wrong with me? One of his arms and one of his ankles blazed as if they’d been dipped in lava and the raw wounds sprinkled with salt. His sides throbbed as though they’d been pinned to the bed with boulders.

“You’re grimacing again. Still in too much pain to talk?” A pause, a sigh. “I’ll help.”

Another warm exhalation floated over his face. Something sharp slid into the base of his neck, and then his entire world blackened. The peace returned. Oddly, he would have preferred to stay with the woman.

“Jaxon, you ready to wake up now?”

There was the voice again, a little more insistent and impatient this time. Frustrated, perhaps, and a bit concerned. How long had he slept? Felt like days, stiff as his body was. He did a mental sweep, found that he was naked except for something heavy on one of his arms, one of his legs.

The woman must have realized the direction of his thoughts. “Your arm and ankle have been set and both are healing nicely. You’ll have full use of them again, though you might have a limp. You also have some internal injuries and a liver the size of New Texas. Like to toss back the hard stuff, do we?”

Not anymore, he wanted to tell her, but his tongue and throat were still too swollen to move. No, not true, he realized a moment later. He was able to move his tongue over his teeth.

All of them were in place, thank God. One corner of his mouth twitched as a smile attempted to form.

The woman—Le’Ace, he thought. Yes, that was her name. Different and mysterious, just like the woman herself. She chuckled softly. “A little vain, Jaxon?”

Le’Ace. The name echoed inside his mind. She was a devil and a beauty. A savior and a killer. “Just like to eat,” he managed.

Her chuckle became a rich laugh. The sound was decadent yet a little raw, as if she didn’t laugh very often. “Sorry to tell you this, Vain, but your nose was broken and now has a slight bump.”

“Always had a bump.”

“Ah. Well, I’m glad. I like it.”

He’d always been a bit self-conscious about his nose. A few times, he’d even considered plastic surgery to shorten it. The only thing that had stopped him was the thought that he’d just break it again and cause a bigger bump. But now, with that husky “I like it” ringing in his ears, he vowed never to consider the option again.

“Where am I?” He wanted to open his eyes, but his lids were still glued together. Trying to pry them apart was still agony, he realized, wincing. He forced his facial muscles to relax.

“You’re in my bedroom. I’ll answer any other questions you might have soon enough, I promise. First, I need to talk to you about the Schön. I know you didn’t want to discuss them while Thomas was present, but he’s dead now. All of your captors are. We’re alone.”

“No,” he said, succinct but meaningful.

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m an agent just like you. We’re partners now. You can tell me. It’s okay. Jack wants you to tell me.”

Before the incident in Thomas’s cell, he’d never met this woman, never even heard of her. So, partners? He seriously doubted it. Granted, foggy as he was, he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the lamp and could be wrong. Still. He wasn’t the dullest bulb in the lamp, either, and would give nothing away.

“No,” he repeated. “My answer will not change.”

“Why?” she asked stiffly.

“Because.”

There was a long pause. “If you’ll call Jack, he’ll verify everything I’ve told you.”

And give her Jack’s number and location if she didn’t already have them? “No.”

“We’re in this together.” A hint of frustration seeped from her tone. “Me and you.”

“Again, no. We’re not. End of conversation.” Every part of his body throbbed; he couldn’t move, even upon threat of death. Friend or enemy, she could do whatever she wanted to him, and he wouldn’t be able to stop her.

Though he didn’t have the use of his eyes, he took stock of his surroundings with his other senses. Except for his shallow inhalations and the woman’s gentle ones, there was silence. Her breath floated over his chest as though she hovered beside him, yet no part of her body touched his.

A soft mattress still cushioned him, so he most likely hadn’t been moved since the last time he’d awoken. Jasmine coated the air, sultry and drugging.

He couldn’t recall noticing the fragrance last time he’d been awake, but he remembered it from the prison. He must have been near death to have missed it before, because the scent once again infiltrated his senses, the sole reason he drew his next breath. Yes, a drug surely.

“Jaxon, are you listening to me?”

“No,” he replied truthfully.

Two stiff fingers probed at the wound on his shoulder, and he hissed.

“Listening now?” she asked. She didn’t wait for his response. “How can I help you stop those otherworlders and how can I help the women they infect if I’m left in the dark?” Those fingers softened and gently slid around one of his nipples, then the other, then over his rib cage, where they lingered for several heartbeats of time before delving to his navel. Still gentle, still soft.

The touch aroused him as surely as the scent had. Combined, they were irresistible. Almost electric.

Her body turned toward him, closer…closer, and one of her breasts pushed into his side. Her nipple was hard as a rock. He licked his lips, hungry for a taste.

Diabolical woman, doing the one thing Thomas hadn’t thought to do: seduce him. Jaxon’s muscles tightened in awareness, and his cock even twitched. He hadn’t slept with a woman in months. After Cathy, only a few had caught his interest, but none of them had tempted him to put any real effort into the bedding. And a man with a scarred face and too-long nose had to put effort into it, no matter how much money he possessed. So he’d mostly gone without.

Would Le’Ace stroke him off if he asked? Would she cup his balls, maybe suck them into her mouth? Would she straddle his waist and ride him? Would she be wet for him?

The sexual questions poured through his mind, unwelcome but erotic, leaving him tense and steeping him in anticipation. If only he had the strength to actively participate, he thought with a self-deprecating grin. He’d like to pleasure her.

“What?” she asked with genuine curiosity. Her hand fluttered away from him.

Jaxon lost his grin, realizing in a single instant that he was grief-stricken without her touch. Odd. I don’t even know her. He wanted her, yes, but want did not usually stir such deep-rooted emotion.

“Jaxon?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he muttered. Damn, but he wanted to see her face, her expression, the glint in her eyes. Maybe she didn’t want him. Maybe that hard nipple meant nothing. Maybe he’d have to work for her desire.

Why did the thought of working for her desire not dissuade him, as it had with others these past few months? Why did the thought of working for her desire arouse him on yet another level?

What kind of lover would she be? Loud and responsive or quiet and tender? Either way, he suspected he’d have a good time. A woman who killed as expertly as she killed could take everything he had to give and demand more. He wouldn’t have to worry about hurting her or offending her if wicked thoughts slipped out of his mouth.

“Did the infected women mention anything about what the Schön were planning when you interviewed them?” she asked as if the conversation about the otherworlders had never ended.

Disappointment swept through him. “Whatever you ask me, the answer is going to be the same. No. Understand? No!”

He thought she might be gnashing her teeth.

“You’re stubborn,” she said with a regretful—admiring?—sigh. “I need to think about this a little more, maybe approach it another way. So you’re going to have to take another nap.”

“A nap won’t help. And no matter what approach you take, I’m not going to change my mind.”

She chuckled, and the sound of it was a little cruel. “Oh, sweetie, don’t make promises you can’t keep. You’re not going to remember this conversation, so you’ll have no way of knowing what will and will not work.”

“Impossible.”

The bed rocked. A moment later, cold, round pads with gelled bottoms were placed on his brow and temples. Each of them vibrated. His arms were weak, shaky, and pinned. He could think of no way to remove them. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

“What are you doing, Le’Ace?”

“Good night, honey. We’ll talk again in a few days.”

The vibrations became pulses and the pulses seemed to sink past his skin and into his skull. They were warm and only growing warmer…hotter. His thoughts blurred into darkness. “Le—” Her name had been on the tip of his tongue, a taunting whisper inside his mind, but now it was gone. “What’s happening?”

“Shhh. I wish it hadn’t come to this, but I can’t fail. I’m sorry. Just relax. It will be easier for you if you relax.”

His entire form suddenly jerked, his every vein, muscle, and bone seizing in pain. He would have roared, but once again he couldn’t use his tongue. It, too, was anchored in place, glued to the roof of his mouth. A black web wove through his mind, spun by a laughing spider, thick and inexorable.

“Stop!” he wanted to roar. Couldn’t.

Suddenly the darkness burst into a thousand pinpricks of light, freeing his tongue, and he was able to speak. Yet all that escaped was a gurgle; the sound was agonizing, dripping with rage and pain. Then those pinpricks of light congealed into one solid mass, and that mass wiped at certain corners of his mind like glass cleaner being smeared over a dirty window with a spiked washrag. Nothing was left but blood.