Savor Me Slowly (Alien Huntress #3)(2)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Not a hint of anger laced the alien’s tone. He was too cocky for that, too assured of his power. “So brazen you are. So foolish.”

“Shoulda abducted Dallas, then. He’s the smart one.” Under normal circumstances, Jaxon would never have uttered another agent’s name. But this group of Delenseans had been studying A.I.R. for weeks. Undetected, he inwardly mocked. They practically knew more than Jaxon. Everything from day-to-day operations at headquarters to where the agents lived and what their hobbies were.

They’d taunted him with the information. Chuckled like every word had been a gut-busting joke. Even now, there was a sound track of their jeers in his ears: Five o’clock sharp, Dallas arrives. He drinks a cup of coffee, talks to Kitty. Ghost shows up, usually eight minutes late. He has a new girlfriend and has trouble leaving her.

They’d been able to take Jaxon from his own home quickly, expertly. Easily. As he remembered, embarrassment heated his cheeks. What kind of agent allowed himself to be taken from home? Answer: a bad one. Now there was a joke.

No way could he have been prepared, though. Shockingly, the blue-skinned aliens had mastered molecular transport. Something humans hadn’t yet done, though they’d been working on it for a long time. Must be an innate ability of the race rather than technology. Still.

Mortifying how quickly he’d been taken by the unadvanced race. One minute Jaxon had been lounging on his couch, drinking beer and watching virtual play-offs, and the next three Delenseans surrounded him, grinning like they’d just received swallow-it-all blow jobs. The next, he’d been here.

“Sleeping?” the alien asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah. Maybe you should go. Let me rest.”

“And maybe Dallas is already on my To Be Captured list.” Again, the bastard sounded smug.

“I’m sure he’ll love the accommodations. You’re such a good host, Deli. Maybe I’ll invite you to my home sometime. Show you my toys.”

Rather than rile him, Jaxon seemed to amuse him all the more. “Call me Thomas. We’re going to be on much more…intimate terms, you and I.”

Jaxon didn’t have to rack his brain to interpret that little gem. Rape, the one thing they hadn’t done yet. Don’t give him a reaction. You slept with Cathy, remember. Nothing worse. “Deli, man.” He was careful to enunciate every syllable, wanted the words understood. “Hate to hurt your feelings, but you’re not my type.”

The alien shrugged. “I will be soon enough, I’m sure.”

He drew in a slow breath, held…held—god, the pain—then released it just as slowly. In, out. In—he stilled, frowned. Thoughts of rape receded, drowned by an intoxicating awareness. What was that delicious fragrance? He inhaled again; his nostrils twitched. And then he knew.

The Delensean wasn’t alone.

The otherworlder emitted a whiskeylike scent, yet Jaxon smelled something sweet and heady. Something floral. His blood heated and his skin pulled tight. His stomach clenched. His shaft even twitched in its first show of interest since his imprisonment—and long before.

Jaxon blinked in surprise. Weak as he was, the reaction should have been impossible, yet his body was acting like the fragrance was laced with undiluted pheromones. That must mean—

Woman.

Human? Alien? Does it matter? Enemy, definitely.

He’d always enjoyed the scents women slathered over their bodies, but this one seemed so much more everything than anything else he’d ever encountered. The perfume was utterly feminine and wholly alluring, like a drug. Illegal. Enthralling. He could have basked in it for hours.

“Brought you a present this time,” Thomas said. He chuckled, as if remembering another of his lame-ass jokes. “I hope you like her.”

A second shadowy figure stepped around the other-worlder, not moving closer to Jaxon but staying at a distance so that she could most likely study him. A long moment thundered by in silence. He could tell that she was tall for a female. Probably five nine or five ten. Blonde, if the bright halo glowing around her head was any indication.

“His eyes are practically sealed shut,” she said, her voice husky and rich. Sexy.

Jaxon’s blood heated another degree, shocking and angering him. What kind of moron lusted after his executioner? And there was no doubt in his mind that’s what she was. Why else would she be here? Tick, tock. A muscle under his eye spasmed. That annoying counting had begun yet again. Damn it. What would it take to get rid of it? Death?

“Is that a problem?” Thomas asked her.

“You know I like to see their eyes when I work.”

This time, there was a princess-whine in her tone that might have been amusing in any other situation. She made him think of a little girl who’d asked Santa for a pony but had found a kitten under the tree instead. The kitten wasn’t what she’d wanted, so the kitten wouldn’t to be tolerated.

“My apologies, Marie,” Thomas said, and damn if he didn’t sound like he meant it. “The agent provoked our wrath.”

Sincere remorse from Thomas? Marie must frighten him. Interesting.

Marie sighed angrily and stretched a hand toward Thomas. “We’ll discuss this later. Was he given a truth serum?”

“Of course. He told us his name was Minnie Mouse and he lived on Nightmare Lane.”

“Training people to fight such drugs should be illegal,” she muttered. “My tools, please.”

Don’t speak; don’t you dare speak. “You don’t need any tools, honey.” The words left on a determined burst, unstoppable, meaning to prove his fearlessness. But leaving it at that would have proven the opposite, so even though he wanted to remain silent, he purposefully added, “Come sit on my lap and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

He expected her to gasp, to stomp over and slap him. Maybe part of him hoped to goad her into beginning whatever she had planned. Nothing was worse than waiting, not even the electric-shock nipple clamps they’d used earlier, and those had provided a bitch of a hurt.

Marie merely gave another of those pouting sighs and said to Thomas, “Yes, I see what you mean. His attitude is quite maddening. Though that doesn’t excuse your behavior,” she added. “You invited me here. As your guest, I expect my desires to be heeded.”

“Of course. His face will not be touched again.”

“Good. What has he told you so far?”

“Outside the lies, nothing. No matter what we’ve done to him,” Thomas said, obviously perplexed, “he’s told us nothing about the virus.”