Highest Bidder: 1 (Mercy) by Lexxie Couper Read Free Book Online

the ceiling with customers when he entered the bar. Zondarian, Devauntians, a few Myxmaks, the odd Terran—if the species existed, it was here, drinking, laughing, fucking.
    Nodding to The Steam’s owner, Rajelle, a loud and formidable humanoid who knew many secrets and how to keep them, Dreylan crossed the crowded bar and dropped into a dark booth. It had been many solar cycles since he’d been to Mercy but the spaceport hadn’t changed. Looking around, a sense of familiar comfort licked at his agitation. It seemed The Steam hadn’t changed either. With the exception of a towering man scanning the bar’s patrons like Death contemplating his next collection, the bar was the same. Even the drunken Felinia—a curious cat-like species found only in these parts of deep space—singing karaoke was the same striped one from his last visit. Rajelle really knew how to create a safe haven in a turbulent universe.
    The Steam wouldn’t be everyone’s idea of the perfect drinking hole, especially those who couldn’t abide bad singing, but it fit him just right.
    Rajelle wormed her way to his booth, a squat glass in her hand. She placed it on the table and gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s not Ozio, but it’ll burn that pissed-off look from your pretty face.”
    Dreylan frowned at the glass. “Trouble with your suppliers? And what pissed-off look?”
    Rajelle laughed, a loud bark of mirth. “The GU are being a tad annoying at the moment, and I’ve annoyed Echo brother number six too many times. The sykin ’s not helping me with my stock at all.”
    “Who’s the muscle?” Dreylan asked, flicking a look at the man by the bar. Something about him itched at his consciousness.
    Rajelle studied the man for a moment before turning back to Dreylan. “New bouncer. Corvan Jareth. Doesn’t say much. Good at his job. Very good.” She nodded at Dreylan’s drink. “Swallow it in one gulp, peace-keeper. Bunderberg Black Label Rum. New Earth. It’ll do you good.”
    She threaded her way back to the bar, shoving at anyone getting too rowdy or rough. Dreylan watched her go. No Ozio, but he couldn’t hold it against Rajelle. He lifted the rum, readying his system for the New Earth liquor. Instead, a delicate wisp of Naya’s musky scent filled his breath and he gripped his glass tighter, ignoring the sudden surge of hot blood to his cock. Shit .
    A wave of anger rolled through him. At his lack of control. At Pretorik Ipari.
    Ipari flaunted his power with condescending narcissism. He didn’t care what stood in his way. He’d campaigned for the position of GU Premier with brutal selfishness. He’d pursued Aimyl with the same arrogant disregard.
    Dreylan closed his eyes for a moment, picturing his wife. Their marriage had been long over when she’d left him for the premier. It wasn’t just the unexplained erotic dreams he’d been having that ended their relationship, dreams—he now knew—of Naya Kistari. Even at their most feverish, he’d still loved his wife. No, their relationship died because he could never be what Aimyl wanted. Aimyl hungered for the opulent lifestyle a mere peace-keeper couldn’t provide. The Commanderof the Peace-Keeper force, however, made more credits per lunar cycle than Dreylan ever hoped to make, and that’s what Pretorik Ipari had been when Dreylan and Aimyl first met him.
    Dreylan had never reacted well to pompous idiots in positions of authority, and in his opinion, Commander Ipari was one of the biggest pompous idiots he’d ever met. Two weeks into his station under Ipari’s direct command, Dreylan had made the mistake of correcting him during a public briefing. Commander Ipari had punished Dreylan by demoting him to the lowest rank a peace-keeper could hold. He’d also begun his seduction of an ever-willing Aimyl, eventually convincing her to leave Dreylan with promises of being the future premier’s wife.
    She’d died the very day she’d left Dreylan for the conceited bastard. Died