The Bargain
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Evangeline Anderson
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507K
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21
Prologue
Lynx watched her saunter by, her hips swaying in a way that made his mouth water. Her scent, a subtle fragrance that wafted from the sweet spot between her thighs, was intoxicating. Even through her long skirt, woven from synthi-wool, he could still catch her scent. She dressed differently from the other barmaids at the Triple Sickle, choosing to deflect attention rather than attract it. Her modest attire probably affected her tips, but Lynx had a feeling she didn’t care. He did, though. She had always been slender, but she looked painfully thin now. He’d only seen her a few days ago, and he wondered if she was eating enough. Probably not, considering what she earned here.
He caught her eye and signaled her over, pointing at his empty mug. She nodded and began to weave her way through the crowd of miners, their bodies grimy from a day in the platinum mines, and the other barmaids, all of whom were dressed in short skirts and see-through blouses to flaunt their assets. Lynx knew that some of them worked extra hours on their backs after the Triple Sickle closed, but she wasn’t one of them. If she was, his life would be a lot easier. But then again, if she was available to anyone who wanted her, he would probably have had to kill half the settlement.
He’d already had to teach a lesson to one handsy jerk who couldn’t keep his hands off her. And then there was the Bent-head who had attacked her… Lynx shook his head. She didn’t know about that, and it was better she never found out. He hadn’t meant to kill the man, but he couldn’t help himself. Even though Lynx had never even touched her, her scent stirred his protective and possessive instincts so much that just seeing another man touch her arm while she refilled his mug made him flinch.
He watched her as she made her way toward him. The clink of heavy, copper-bottomed mugs and the low, trollish laughter of the regulars filled the air, along with the yeasty scent of hops used to make their ale. In a tavern like this, a human-owned and -operated one, he wouldn’t have been welcome without his wealth and power. But even Mama Trash, the owner and a known Xorn-hater, didn’t dare to deny him entrance, though she glared at him and sneered when he appeared at his usual table every third night. Lynx had a reputation for ruthlessness, and even the roughest regulars of the Triple Sickle left him alone.
Lynx never spoke to anyone but her, and he never allowed any other barmaid to serve him. He only came every third night because that was as much as he could stand—her scent drove his body into a frenzy of need, and it was all he could do to sit still and watch quietly while she worked.
Finally, she stood beside him, a thick-bottomed pitcher filled with dark brown ale clutched in one hand. Lynx could see the tendons in her slender wrist stand out with the strain of holding the heavy vessel as she poured, but her hand didn’t tremble. She was strong—she had to be to survive in this kind of environment that was alien to everything she knew, everything she was used to. He knew about her past, the way she’d been born to wealth and brought up in luxury only to lose it all in a cruel twist of fate, but none of that mattered now. What mattered was that she was here beside him, close enough to touch. Close enough to smell.
Lynx couldn’t help himself. Leaning slightly toward her, he inhaled deeply, drawing her into his lungs. The scent of the alcohol filled his senses, but it couldn’t drown out her fresh, sweet musk. Goddess above, it made him so thirsty, her female spice. He could drink a thousand pitchers of ale, and none of them would quench his thirst. He needed a different kind of nourishment for that.
“That’ll be a credit fifty,” she said in a clear, low voice, holding out her hand.
Lynx could have picked her heartbeat from a dozen others across a crowded room, but he wanted her closer, so he shook his head and frowned to indicate he hadn’t heard.
She bent closer to him, her long reddish-brown curls hanging down her pale throat, and repeated the price over the noisy hum of the room. “A credit fifty.”
Taking his time, Lynx reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cred chip. He cupped her soft hand in his, pressed the hard plastic chip into her palm, and closed her fingers around it. Immediately, he felt her reaction. He had brushed her arm or hand once or twice when she poured his ale, but he had never touched her so deliberately before, had never prolonged the contact. The skin-to-skin touch sent a wave of emotion through her body, igniting her nerves like dry branches struck by lightning in an electrical storm. Fear was the most prominent emotion, he could feel it like a fence of jagged thorns keeping him at bay. But beneath it, so deep she probably didn’t feel it consciously, was desire. A warm flood of need to match his own, waiting to be released.
Lynx felt his heart pound like a hammer in his chest. His cock was suddenly stiff and aching, straining against the confines of his pants as his body acknowledged what his soul had known all along. She was the one. Her reaction to him proved it beyond a doubt.
“Let go of me.” She kept her voice low even though she was so nervous he could hear her heart racing over the clink of mugs and the blast of what the humans called music filled the air.
Lynx released her wrist and she stepped back, rubbing it as if he’d hurt her, though his grip had been loose. Her face betrayed no emotion but he could taste her relief like a bitter spice at the back of his throat. Relief that he was no longer touching her? Or relief that the flood of need swelling inside her body had receded when he withdrew his hand? She looked down at the chip.
“This is a fifty. I don’t have that much change.” She held it out to him with her fingertips, careful to keep at an arm’s length this time.
“Don’t want change,” Lynx grunted, waving it away. “Keep it.”
“I’m not looking for handouts,” she said, her frown deepening in her rich brown eyes.
“Who’s talking about handouts? It’s a tip. You need it, so take it,” Lynx shot back, his face hardening. She paled but didn’t back down.
“Why do you think you know what I need?” She held out the chip, her hand steady. “Take it back and give me something smaller. Mama Trash will just deduct the cost of your drink from my pay rather than break such a large chip.”
Swearing under his breath, he took back the fifty and replaced it with a twenty. He slapped it onto the sticky tabletop and stood, his towering figure casting a shadow over her. She flinched and took a step back as he moved. Xorn were about ten times stronger and faster than humans—a fact he tried to hide when he could. But her stubborn refusal to accept the tip, when he knew she needed it, had pushed him to reveal his strength and speed.
“I know everything about you,” he said, his voice low. He reached out, his large hand gently cradling her pale, thin cheek, causing her to gasp. “Especially what you need,” he murmured. He dropped his hand before she could pull away and navigated through the crowd of murmuring humans towards the exit. Eyes narrowed and mouths curled into snarls as he passed, but even the toughest miners stepped aside when they saw the simmering anger in his amber eyes and felt the icy wave of menace he projected. It was a cheap trick, using his emotions like that, but Lynx wasn’t in the mood for a fight. Especially not with some human trying to prove their superiority over a “filthy Xorn.”
He paused at the double doors and looked back, locking eyes with her and holding her gaze. She trembled where she stood, as if he was physically touching her, and suddenly he couldn’t resist. He sent a wave of desire to coil around her ankles and climb her thighs. He could feel her arousal growing, her body responding to his command. She gasped softly and pressed her knees together, but there was no stopping a Xorn when he was in need, and Lynx was definitely in need. His thirst was so intense he could barely see straight.
He focused, making her pussy hot and wet, feeling her inner walls swell and slicken with desire, increasing her arousal until he knew she felt like she was about to burst. Goddess, how he longed to taste her, to bury his face between her slim legs and quench his thirst while she cried out and writhed beneath him, surrendering herself to him completely.
Finally, he released her gaze and watched as she stumbled towards a chair, her knees shaking slightly under her long skirt. He’d never pushed her this far before—never made her so aroused—and the look on her face was pure fear. The mental barriers she’d erected were back, stronger than ever, and Lynx cursed himself for his recklessness. He’d scared her. He wanted to push through the crowd and scoop her up in his arms. He wanted to take her home with him and care for her there. If he could get her alone, away from these crowds of her own kind, he knew he could make her need him the way he needed her.
He closed his eyes, briefly imagining it. He would lay her on his bed and suck her clit into his mouth, lapping at her pussy until she was dripping wet. He would use a spreader to open her pussy lips wide so that he could drink easily, with nothing in the way of her sweet nectar until he was finally satisfied. Her emotions would nourish him too, if she could just let the barriers around her heart soften and open up to him. And in time, she would learn the hunger and thirst herself, and he would nourish her as well.
The angry murmurs of the miners around him snapped him out of his daydream, and Lynx forcefully suppressed the urge to go back to her. As strong as he was, he couldn’t fight an entire bar full of angry human men, and there was no doubt they would riot if they thought he was taking one of their own for his pleasure. Turning away from the dim lights and smoky atmosphere of the Triple Sickle, he stepped out into the night, away from her intoxicating scent.
He’d never expected to find the one he was looking for here on a Goddess-forsaken mining colony at the ass-end of the galaxy. Hell, after everything he’d been through, he’d never expected to find the one who was right for him at all, but she was it. Now he just had to figure out how to make her his. It was clear she wouldn’t respond to his money or power, so there had to be another way.
Lynx clenched his large hands into fists and stared up at the three moons that kept an erratic orbit around the desolate planet he called home. There had to be a way to make her come to him willingly—without just picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder, as tempting as that idea was. Now that he’d found her, his thirst grew every day. His need for her was relentless, stabbing him with a pain so sharp it couldn’t be ignored. He had to have her, and it had to be soon.
He had to quench his thirst.
