Chapter Four

Christ, he was hungry.

Jon was heading back to his cabin, but he really needed to eat. He raised his head, sniffed, and caught the faint trace of food in the air.

The smell led him to the galley at the center of the ship. It took him a moment to figure out how to work the food dispenser, but he eventually managed to get himself a serving of something that resembled stew and tasted almost like real meat. After wolfing down the first bowl, he got another, and sat at the table to eat it more slowly.

Things weren’t going too badly. They could be much worse. But even so, his nerves twitched. He didn’t work well with people. It was a long time since he’d even tried.

After his pack had been killed, he’d spent the following years tracing the people responsible and making sure they paid. Afterward, he’d lost his urge for killing, but he’d continued anyway because he was good at it and he’d found there were plenty of people around who would pay him—and extraordinarily well—to use his talents. But he always worked alone.

Long ago, he’d taken a vow never to change anyone—he didn’t want any other wolves relying on him, looking to him to save their miserable lives. He’d proven how crappy he was at the whole protection thing. And he’d never come across another werewolf either. The occasional rumor came his way, but if it sounded like his kind, he’d turned around and gone in the opposite direction as fast as he could.

He was better off alone. He liked it that way. Women he took when the need got too strong, but always women who knew the score, who wouldn’t ask for more than he was willing to give, which wasn’t very much. Women who could look after themselves. Women who were definitely not virgins.

The Virgin Bride of the Everlasting God.

Who would have guessed it—a High Priestess? He waited for the rush of hatred to overcome him. After all, she was Church, and he ought to hate her as he hated the rest of her kind. But she obviously wasn’t too keen on them herself or she wouldn’t have run away.

His lips curved at the memory of her discomfort. The sensation was strange. He didn’t smile a lot. A red flush had swept over her creamy skin as they’d teased her. Whether it had been from temper or embarrassment, he didn’t know. Probably both.

He had a flashback to the feel of her lying beneath him, and heat coiled in the pit of his stomach. She’d felt feminine but delicate, small-boned and fragile. The sort of woman who needed protecting. Not his sort of woman. And no breasts. He liked breasts. If he needed sex, then the other redhead would be a much more sensible option. And she’d had breasts. But although he tried to picture her, he couldn’t really remember what she looked like.

The cryo was obviously still messing with his head. He needed to forget about women and concentrate on what to do next. Not that he had many choices.

Maybe he could try and get rid of the crew, but he couldn’t manage a ship the size of El Cazador alone. Or he could make a break for it. Take one of the shuttles perhaps. But why bother? Trakis Two was his only option, his only lead, so why not go there aboard El Cazador? He chewed a mouthful of stew thoughtfully. At least the food was good. For now, this was probably his best bet for getting around. He’d regain his strength. Treat it like a holiday.

And once he’d seen his contact, he could decide what his next move should be. It would be easy to ditch them on Trakis Two. Especially if he acted like he was cooperating now and they lowered their guard.

Unfortunately, cooperation had never been a strong point of his, and he was a crap actor. Maybe he could get the women on his side at least. Maybe he shouldn’t limit himself to the redhead. From the way the women on this ship were acting around him—freaking out over a damn shirt, he reckoned he could have them all. Well, except Al—he really wasn’t going to allow himself to go there. From now on, she could keep out of his way.

Getting to his feet, he stretched. He had a plan. If he could ignore the fact his butt hurt like hell, he might even feel optimistic.

When he reached his quarters, the door to his cabin was open, and he could see Al, down on her hands and knees. So much for keeping out of his way.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

She jumped, scrambled to her feet, and stood chewing on her lower lip. “I was cleaning…” She trailed off and gestured to the mess on the floor where the food had spilled earlier. “ And there are more clothes.” She pointed at a pile on the bed. “They should keep you going until we reach Trakis Two.”

He strolled across the room, picked up a white shirt, and held it to his nose. “Did you pinch them from the vampire?”

“No—they’re from the Trog—he’s the engineer but he doesn’t come out much, so he won’t even notice.” A smile flashed across her face. “Rico only wears black—I think he likes to match the ship.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I’ll just finish…”

Crouching down again, she picked up the cloth she’d been using and bundled it into a bag. Her gaze kept flicking up to him as she worked. Her eyes were really quite amazing, the irises almost silver rimmed with black, and very expressive. How had she managed to hide what she was for so long? She must be one hell of a good actress. Shit, she might even be acting now—with those shy, little “I might be a virgin, but I’m willing to change that” glances she kept sending his way. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted uncomfortably. These pants were definitely too tight.

Al straightened, wiping her hands up and down her thighs, and he bit back a groan. She still wore a baggy shirt, but the material was thin, almost transparent. Through it, he could clearly make out the outline of a pair of surprisingly full breasts. Where the hell had they come from?

As he stared, unable to look away, she thrust back her shoulders so her dark nipples pushed against the fabric, sending a jolt of heat to his groin. It had been way too long.

He forced his gaze upward and caught a small, catlike smirk of satisfaction on her face. The expression was blanked out as soon as she saw him watching, and a wave of anger rolled through him. The little priestess thought she could manipulate him. She needed to learn she couldn’t. Nobody could.

But he hoped she’d learn fast and get the fuck out of here, before his dick exploded out of his too tight pants. She was still fussing about the cabin, and he growled low in his throat.

…

He’d noticed her breasts. Alex was sure of it.

It was such a relief to get rid of the bindings that had been part of her disguise, she hadn’t considered this added advantage.

Tannis had given her some breathing space, but that was all it was. Her time was running out. If Hezrai found her once, he would find her again. The Church was powerful, and she didn’t want anyone to get in trouble because of her. Next time, she would hand herself over.

But there was so much she wanted to experience first. She had a lengthy to-do list she’d been adding to since she came on board. And today she’d added one more thing.

She gave Jon a small sidelong glance. His hands were in his pockets, and he was lounging against the wall. He should have appeared relaxed; instead, he radiated barely leashed tension.

“Is there anything else I can do?” she asked, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

His eyes narrowed. “You can get the hell out of here, little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl—I’m twenty-four.” Why did she have a feeling she was going to have to repeat those words many times before they would make any impact?

“Yeah, and I’m one hundred and ninety-two.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Look, I know what you think you want. But you’re wrong.”

“What do I want?” Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears.

“You want to get rid of that virginity you find so embarrassing.” He shook his head, pushed himself away from the wall, and strode toward her. Up close, he was huge, towering over her, and she had to force herself to stand her ground. This was no time to turn yellow.

He halted a foot away and stared down at her through half-closed eyes.

“You really want it? You want me to fuck you, little girl?”

No, actually, she wanted him to make sweet, dreamy love to her, but she had an idea he might laugh if she mentioned that, so she’d take the other if it was all that was on offer. Something tightened low down in her belly at his words and heat washed through her. She didn’t think she could get any sound out of her suddenly dry mouth, so she nodded.

His eyes widened as though he hadn’t expected that answer. “Jesus, I don’t believe this. Are you always so reckless?”

She opened her mouth to argue that she wasn’t reckless—this was a well thought-out plan—but he continued before she got the chance.

“Why me?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t seem to need an answer, so she kept quiet. “Hell, I bet you can’t even say the word, never mind do it.”

Alex ground her teeth. “I can.”

Jon folded his arms across his chest, a smug, superior expression on his face. “Go on then.”

She swallowed. There was nothing hard about this. It wasn’t even blaspheming, which she’d probably find impossible. Just because she had never said the word in her life, didn’t mean she couldn’t. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out, and she closed it again. She hated being a priestess—she was so repressed.

He laughed, but the sound held no amusement, and her fury rose.

“So I can’t say it? What’s the big deal here? It’s not as though I want to marry you or anything. As it happens, I’m already married.”

“Yeah, I remember—to God, right? And he’s obviously not giving you any.”

“I don’t even like you,” she continued, deciding to ignore his comment. “But I don’t happen to have a lot of options here.”

He regarded her, his head cocked to one side. “Doesn’t it bother you that I’m a werewolf?”

She smiled sweetly. “No, I always wanted a pet dog.”

An expression of outrage flashed across his features, and she had to bite back her grin. “Besides,” she added hurriedly, “as I said—I don’t have a lot of choices.”

“And you’re desperate, right?”

She thought about the question for a second then nodded. It was sad but true, and she wasn’t going to get what she wanted by lying about it. “Yeah, I’m desperate.”

“Jesus,” he muttered again. “Let me give you a word of advice. Real men like to do the chasing.”

“Real men?”

“Look, you’re obviously a good girl. Why don’t you go back to where you belong? Back to the Church, like a good little virgin priestess.”

The last words were sneered and twenty-four years of pretending rose up inside her. “I am not a good girl. For one thing, I’m not a girl—I’m a woman. For another, I am not good. I’ve never been good. I’ve just pretended, and I’m sick of it.” Alex took a step toward him, and he backed up. She prodded him in the chest—it reminded her of solid rock. “Do you know what it was like?”

He shook his head, a slightly panicked look on his face.

“Every single day. For twenty-four years. I pretended to be good. And every single day I thought of new bad things I wanted to do. I wanted to do them so much that sometimes I would scream inside. And soon, I’ll go back, and I’ll pretend to be good again—”

“Why?” he interrupted. “Why go back?”

She thought of all the people who had given up their lives for her, of Sister Martha who had basically raised her. Alex was the center of their universe—their reason for being. They believed in her—that she was God’s chosen emissary. Even if she didn’t believe it herself, could she abandon them?

But there was more to it than that. This time away had made her see things clearly for the first time. One of the reasons she’d hated her life so much was because she’d felt like some sort of drone-droid, unable to take control or change anything. And there were so many things within the Church that needed changing. As High Priestess, she could become a force for good, make things better. But she wasn’t telling him that.

“Just because,” she mumbled. “The point is, I will go back. I’ll do my duty, and I’ll make believe I’m good. But before I do, I’m going to do a few of those bad things. All I’m asking for is a little cooperation.”

He was silent as he studied her. Alex held her breath.

Finally, he shrugged. “Much as I appreciate the honor, I don’t do innocents. And I especially don’t do needy innocents.”

Her fists clenched at her side. “I am not needy.”

“You’re about as needy as they come, darling. Now I’m tired. I’m going to lie down—perhaps you could close the door on your way out.”

Jon strolled over, settled on the bed, and closed his eyes as if to shut her out. His muscular body stretched out, his hands clasped behind his head, showing the dark tufts of hair in the hollows of his armpits. There was so much of him.

“Quit staring,” he murmured.

Alex sighed. She wanted to argue the needy thing some more, but what was the point? She picked up her bag of cleaning things and trudged to the entrance.

“Hey, Al.”

She paused, turned back to face him, a little flame of hope igniting in her chest. “What?”

“Maybe I am feeling a little horny after all. You think you could get me a date with that other redhead?”

It took her a moment to realize he meant Janey. Hurling the bag at his head, she spun around and stalked from the room.

His chuckle followed her as she stomped down the corridor.

“Fucking bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

Swearing, she decided, was easy. All you needed was the right incentive.