Trouble With the Matriach

The sealed bulkhead groaned its last protest and fell silent. Sasha's fingers found Tapuck's shoulder, and for the first time since she'd claimed him, her touch carried warmth.

"You've done well," she said, close enough that only he could hear. "When we deliver Erica and her Federation secret through me—not Colette—I'll make sure Vancer's clemency recommendation includes you. That's what you wanted, isn't it? A way off this rock?" Her fingers traced along his jaw. "I can give you that. You belong to me now. Your freedom serves my interests."

From across the corridor, Colette observed them. The matriarch noted Sasha's stance at Tapuck's side, apart from the others—the soldier standing at his mistress's shoulder, aligned with her objectives rather than the clan's. Whatever arrangement they'd forged in that private quarters had produced something more valuable than a simple thrall.

"The priority exile earns his keeper's favor," Colette said, her tone unreadable. "How fortunate for both of you."

"I don't want to leave anymore Sasha. I just want to be with you now, and serve you forever". I said it because I knew it was what she wanted to hear, but deep in the back of my mind, the thought of the original goal lingered. To leave this planet.

I looked over at Colette, and saw her greedy eyes watching me. She wanted me for herself, I could feel it. The day that she goes for it, will I be able to resist?

I look back to my mistress Sasha. "Shall we go back to the living quarters? I'm getting hungry"

Sasha's thumb traced the line of his jaw, her grip warm against his skin. "Good boy," she breathed. But her attention held on Colette, who had drifted closer to Marcus Venn's motionless form with the weight of someone calculating a future acquisition.

"Your soldier has performed well," Colette said. "But the night isn't over." She moved toward the corridor exit. "We'll discuss the distribution of assets over dinner. The upper gallery. One hour." Her attention found him again. "Bring him. I want to understand exactly what you've... created."

Sasha's hand slid from Tapuck's jaw to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until her hip pressed against his. "He's not a discussion topic."

"Everything in my territory is a discussion topic." Colette turned to Helenna. "Secure the cargo. Medical for the officer. I want him conscious and talking before morning."

Helenna nodded and hauled Erica toward the corridor. Two other operatives moved to support Marcus Venn's weight, dragging him toward whatever passed for a medical bay in the crashed vessel.

Colette departed, her scarlet silks trailing behind her as she ascended toward the hull's upper levels.

Sasha watched her go. Her nails pressed into his nape.

"We'll eat in my quarters," she said. "Then we'll deal with Colette's invitation." Her mouth brushed his ear. "She's going to try to steal you. I need you sharp when she does."

Later, at the manor

The upper gallery had transformed since he'd last seen it—low tables arranged in a crescent facing a raised platform where Colette held court, salvage-hull walls draped with dark fabric, portable torches casting warm pools across reclaimed metal floors. The crashed vessel's bones showed through the decorations: exposed conduit, weld scars, structural supports. Clan Verosa had converted destruction into a throne room.

Colette waited at the gallery's center, draped in black silk with silver threading that pulsed in the firelight. The fabric was older than Sasha's gown—deeper enchantments woven into every stitch. She rose as they entered, her attention fixing on Tapuck with predatory assessment.

Other clan members had already gathered. Helenna stood near the entrance, scarred arms folded over leather armor. Brissa sat at a side table, her omni-tool still visible at her belt. Near the far wall, barely visible in the shadows—Jessa Teth held a tray of refreshments, her violet eyes fixed on Tapuck.

Colette descended from her platform. Her perfume arrived before her hand did—aged roses, sandalwood, darker notes that curled through his thoughts like smoke.

"You've dressed for the occasion." Her fingers brushed his shoulder, trailing along the midnight collar. "Sasha's work is impressive." Her attention moved to his mistress. "But you've rushed the binding, haven't you? There's always room for... reinforcement."

Sasha's hand pressed into his nape.

"We're here to settle the division of holdings, Colette. Not to negotiate my property."

Colette's lips curved.

"Sit." She gestured toward the cushions arranged before her platform. "Both of you. We have much to cover."

I sit down next to Sasha, and sweep my eyes around the room to gauge my surroundings

Tapuck settled onto the cushion beside Sasha, his enhanced senses cataloguing the gallery's layout with precision he hadn't possessed hours earlier.

Three exits. The main entrance where Helenna stood guard, battle-scarred and watchful in her leather armor, tracking arrivals and departures. A service corridor behind Colette's raised platform, partially concealed by hanging fabric. A smaller door to one side where Jessa Teth lingered with a refreshment tray—the young succubus's violet eyes tracking him with the same intensity she'd shown in Sasha's quarters, cataloguing something she hadn't dared mention.

Brissa occupied a corner position, her omni-tool visible at her hip, running calculations on a handheld device. Near the platform's edge, a display case held territorial markers and contracts—Verosa's legitimate trade agreements, if such things existed. The torches cast overlapping pools of light that created darkness deep enough to hide movement.

Colette's black silk carried deeper enchantments than Sasha's burgundy gown. The metallic embroidery held a slower, heavier rhythm, and beneath the roses came ash and copper—older magic woven into older fabric.

Sasha's hand found his thigh beneath the surface, her grip claiming him.

Colette observed him taking inventory of her territory. Then she indicated the cushions directly before her platform.

"Closer," she said. "I want to see what Sasha has made."

I could feel Colette's body and black silk drawing me in, but with Sasha's grip I could maintain control. I look to sasha for approval to see if I should approach. If she gives the go ahead, I will.

Sasha's touch pressed into his thigh. Her gown shifted as she leaned close, her breath finding his ear.

"Go," she murmured. "Show her what I've made. But don't let her touch you."

She released him.

Tapuck rose from the cushion and crossed toward Colette's platform. The matriarch's black silk drew the torchlight as she extended one hand, palm up. An invitation.

"Let me see what she's given you," Colette said. "The strength. The clarity. The devotion."

Near the wall, Jessa's violet eyes tracked his movement—watching, learning, cataloguing every step.

Colette's hand stayed extended, waiting. Her perfume curled through the space between them—old roses, copper, something older beneath. Her amber gaze met his without urgency, as if she had all the time in the world and expected him to give it willingly.

Sasha said don't let her touch you, but it would be suicide to go against the matriarch Infront of everyone. My head was clear. "I can do this" I whisper to myself, and took her hand.

Tapuck's fingers met Colette's palm.

The warmth hit first—then the pressure. Her garments held older magic in every thread, a matriarch's accumulated will that crashed through the Mindslip Syrup's clarity. His thoughts scattered. His knees buckled.

Colette caught him before he could fall, her arm wrapping around his waist to hold him steady against her side. She smelled of copper underneath the roses.

"Good boy," she said softly. "You came closer when I called."

Behind him, Sasha moved to rise—

"Sit." Colette's command silenced her. "You bound him hours ago. You dressed him in borrowed cloth and expected it to hold against fifteen years of sovereignty." Her free hand found Tapuck's chin, turning his face toward the torchlight so she could examine what she'd taken. "This is my territory. My gathering. My *thrall*, now."

Sasha's hands curled into fists against her thighs. She remained seated.

Colette pulled Tapuck toward her raised platform, guiding him with a hand at the small of his back. The gallery's attention fixed on them as he took his place on the cushion near her throne. Her fingers carded through his hair.

"Continue," Colette said. "We'll discuss the division of assets." Her palm lay heavy on his nape. "He'll stay with me."

Tapuck gained status: "dominated by Colette's matriarchal will".

Accepted quest: The Matriarch's Claim – N/A.

Like a crashing wave the fog roiled through my brain. I hadn't felt like this since Sasha had first enthralled me. No logical thoughts, just desire, just lust. I needed to please colette. I had two saving graces, one, she would have to make me orgasm to claim me longer than just a few minutes. And two, I WAS Sasha's solider, deep down, she had true DEEP claim over me. But now in my new haze, a new thought formed. "Why is my inner goal to get back to Sasha? Shouldn't I be... trying to get off this planet?" These thought faintly stirred, too faint to hold on to. My mind numbed again, and I stared towards the event, waiting patiently for any orders.

Colette drew him through the evening with small gestures—a touch to his shoulder, fingers through his hair, a whispered observation pitched for his ears alone. The discussions washed over him: territorial disputes with neighboring clans, resource allocations for the winter cycle, the deployment of new hunters to the settlement boundaries. Helenna argued for increased patrols along the eastern perimeter. Brissa presented schematics for the lower hull modifications. Sasha contributed observations about rival clan movements, her voice level, her posture controlled. Through it all, Tapuck remained at the matriarch's side, her palm heavy on his nape, her perfume eclipsing every other presence.

Near the refreshment table, Jessa Teth observed Colette's techniques with the intensity of someone memorizing a master class.

When the conversation turned to Erica and Marcus Venn—whether to interrogate the officer first or use him as leverage against the Federation—Colette drew Tapuck closer still.

"What do you think?" she asked, her lips near his ear. "How should we proceed with our new assets?"

The question was theater. She wasn't asking for his input—she was making a display of consulting her freshly claimed thrall on matters that should have been Sasha's to discuss. Across the gathering, Sasha's fingers had tightened into white-knuckled balls against her thighs. Her eyes remained fixed forward, jaw tight, watching Colette parade what she'd stolen.

I wanted to say something logical, something smart, but right now I was neither logical or smart. I was only hers. I would kill for her if she wanted. "I...uhhh" I blinked hard, it was easier to think when I wasn't staring in her eyes. But no more words came out.

Colette's palm cradled his cheek, drawing his unfocused eyes back to her face. She made a soft sound—satisfaction.

"You don't need to answer." Her thumb traced his lower lip. "Thinking is overrated. All you need is to sit here."

She turned to Brissa without releasing him, her hand remaining possessive against his jaw.

"The Federation officer. Timeline?"

Brissa straightened from her seat at the side table. "Medical estimates eighteen to twenty hours before he's coherent enough for interrogation. The wound infection was significant. They've started antibiotics, but his system is compromised from three weeks of minimal rations."

"Accelerate it." Colette's nails pressed lightly against Tapuck's throat. "I want him talking before tomorrow's cycle ends."

Across the gathering, Sasha remained on her cushion. Her hands had uncurled from their white-knuckled fists, but her jaw stayed tight. She said nothing. Made no move.

From her position by the refreshments, Jessa Teth watched how Colette's fingers moved through Tapuck's hair—learning, recording, committing the technique to memory.

Colette pulled him closer, adjusting his position on the cushion beside her throne.

"Continue," she said. "We have a long evening ahead."

I waited patiently, unable to keep my eye's of Colette. A part of my wanted to look towards Sasha, but those thoughts were too faint. I just stared at Colette with a dumb grin on my face.

The evening wore on.

Colette's hand never left him—tracing idle patterns against his skull, adjusting his posture, pulling him closer when she addressed the gathering. She fed him pieces of food and pressed a cup to his lips, making a show of caring for her new possession. Each touch reinforced her claim. Each gesture demonstrated to her clan that what Sasha had built now answered to her.

Sasha remained motionless. Her focus never faltered.

Brissa presented Helenna argued for two additional patrol rotations along the eastern boundary, citing increased Vermire activity. Throughout the proceedings, Tapuck sat at Colette's feet, his eyes fixed on her face, nodding when she offered observations he didn't fully process.

Across the chamber, Jessa Teth circulated with a refreshment tray. She offered drinks to Helenna, to Brissa, to the other operatives scattered along the gallery's edges. Her path brought her closer to Colette's platform with each pass—close enough to observe without drawing attention.

Colette's finger moved along his jaw as Brissa finished her report.

"You've done well with the breach assessment." The matriarch's attention lingered on Tapuck. "Perhaps our new acquisition could assist with the structural modifications. His strength proved… useful."

Her thumb pressed into the hollow beneath his ear.

"Tomorrow. After the Federation officer has been properly questioned."

Sasha's words sliced through the gallery like a blade.

"His skill was earned through my investment." She rose from her cushion. "If you intend to use him for labor, we discuss terms."

Jessa froze mid-circuit with the tray. Helenna straightened near the entrance. Every eye in the chamber shifted between the two succubi—matriarch and operative, decades of dominion against one evening's claim.

Colette regarded Sasha.

"Sit."

Sasha did not sit.

Sasha's rise drew my attention, and now having seen her again, her beautiful red gown, her perfection. I tried to stand up.

Tapuck's muscles coiled. Sasha's crimson gown, her perfect face, the way she'd looked at him in her quarters—his hands pressed down on the cushion and pushed. His body rose. Three inches. Four.

Colette's palm settled on his shoulder.

The weight that followed wasn't physical. It crashed through his skull from the inside, drowning Sasha's image beneath a flood of obedience so complete it erased the thought of standing. His knees buckled. His palms struck the cushion. The gallery's torchlight swam.

"Stay," she said.

He couldn't remember why he'd tried to rise.

The gathering had gone still. Jessa Teth stood motionless by the refreshment table, her violet stare fixed on Colette's fingers as they worked, cataloguing each subtle pressure. Across the platform, Sasha remained standing. Her jaw had gone white.

Colette guided Tapuck's head to rest against her thigh, her nails tracing small circles against his scalp.

"Sit down, Sasha." The command carried absolute assurance. "Or leave my gallery."

Sasha didn't sit.

She stood rigid, her posture tight, every line of her body screaming tension. The burgundy fabric rustled as she took a single step forward—not toward Colette, but toward the platform where Tapuck lay with his head cradled against the matriarch's thigh.

"I said, sit." Colette's voice carried no anger. Only certainty.

"I heard you." Sasha's jaw worked. "I choose not to obey."

The gallery went motionless. Helenna's hand moved to the shock-baton at her hip. Brissa stopped pretending to review her omni-tool. Jessa Teth remained frozen in place, watching intently as the matriarch's hand continued its ministrations, cataloguing every subtle pressure, every stroke.

Colette's touch never stopped its path.

"Then leave." The matriarch's amber eyes never left Sasha's face. "My gallery. My territory. My thrall. You have until dawn to decide whether you want to remain in my clan after this display."

Sasha's breath came hard. Her eyes fixed on Tapuck's peaceful face—the way his body curved into Colette's touch, the surrender in his closed eyes, the contentment in every line of him.

She turned on her heel and walked out.

The curtain fell closed behind her. Somewhere in the corridor beyond, footsteps retreated into darkness.

Colette's nail traced the shell of Tapuck's ear.

"Good," she said softly. "Now we can begin properly."

A part of me left sad that Sasha had left, but the thought faded too quickly. I just wanted this meeting to end so I could be with Colette.

Colette's fingers kept their rhythm against his scalp as she concluded the evening's business. Helenna confirmed the doubled patrols. Brissa reviewed the modification timeline. Each operative received clear instructions, then departed with bows that grew deeper as the gallery emptied.

Jessa Teth was the last to linger—her violet stare settled on how Colette's hand had shifted to the nape of Tapuck's neck, how her fingers pressed into the sensitive spot behind his ear, the specific pressure points that kept him pliant. The young succubus memorized every detail before collecting her empty tray and slipping through the service corridor.

When the gallery fell silent, Colette rose from her platform. She gripped Tapuck's wrist and pulled him upright without effort.

"Come."

She guided him through the draped partition behind her throne, past a service passage that wound deeper into the converted vessel. Her quarters occupied the former captain's cabin—larger than Sasha's cramped space, furnished with salvaged luxury: a broad sleeping platform draped in crimson silk, furniture bolted to the deck beneath woven coverings, soft lighting that threw amber across the walls.

The panel closed behind them.

Colette turned to face him. Her black silk settled around her form as she examined what she'd taken.

"On your knees," she said.

His legs folded before she finished speaking.

She circled him slowly, her perfume trailing in his wake—copper and roses and centuries of accumulated power woven into every thread she wore. Her nail traced along his shoulder, across the back of his neck, up into his hairline.

"Sasha bound you," she observed. "But she's young. New to power." Her hand cupped his jaw from behind, tilting his head back until he stared up at her. "She doesn't understand what decades of sovereignty do to a claim."

Her thumb pressed against his lower lip.

"The night is young," she said. "And you're going to learn exactly who you belong to now."

The black silk pooled at her feet as she stepped out of it, revealing the body beneath—centuries of feeding had preserved her perfectly, lines and curves that made younger succubi weep with envy. She pressed down on his shoulder.

"Start here."

She guided his face between her thighs without ceremony, her fingers knotting in his hair as she settled onto the edge of her sleeping platform. His mouth found her and he worked without resistance, his earlier desire for Sasha buried beneath the thick fog of Colette's claim.

She made soft sounds of approval as his tongue learned her preferences—what pressure, what rhythm, where to linger. Her fingers clenched when he found the right spot, loosened when he drifted from it. She taught him without words.

When she finally pulled his face up, her amber stare had gone half-lidded with satisfaction.

"Good boy." She drew him onto the platform beside her, her fingers wrapping around him as she found him already hard despite Sasha's earlier drain. "Now let's see what else you can do."

She pulled him over her, guiding him inside with practiced efficiency. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her nails raking down his back as she set the pace she wanted.

"Slowly," she commanded. "We have all night."

I wanted to speed up, thrust into her and give her all of me. But her command was so strong it overpowered my instinct. I went slow, grinding in and out. It felt so good so completely give in. My reward for being a good boy for her. I fantasized about all the outfits I would get to see her in... Server her in...

Colette's command locked his pace in place, forcing every instinct into submission. He wanted to drive deeper, harder, to give her everything—but her will held absolute authority. She watched him struggle with calculating satisfaction, her amber stare cataloguing every reaction.

In the corner, Dolen moved silently between the washbasin and the silk-draped sleeping platform—replenishing the water vessel, straightening cushions that didn't need straightening. His hollow stare remained fixed on the floor, his mind determined not to witness what his mistress did with her new acquisition.

Colette's nails raked down his back, leaving trails that would mark him for hours. She pulled his face down to hers, her tongue tracing his lower lip before breaking away.

"Who do you belong to?"

The answer came without thought.

"You."

Her legs clamped around his hips, controlling his rhythm entirely as she rolled beneath him. She took her time—drawing out every stroke, every shudder, every stolen breath. Tonight wasn't about speed. It was about imprinting. Making certain that when morning came, Sasha's claim would feel like a distant memory compared to this.

"Good boy," she spoke against his throat. "Now show me what else you can do for your matriarch."

I did everything in my power to please her. Said what I thought she wanted to hear. Did what I thought she wanted me to do. If I were to orgasm, beginning the enthrallment process, she would probably regenerate my energy for more rounds. She wanted all of me, and I gave it to her.

Colette took her time. When he finally reached his peak, she pulled the release from him with slow, grinding precision—then set her hand against his chest and pushed warmth back into his limbs. The regeneration left him groaning against her shoulder, already hard again before his vision cleared.

"That's one."

The second round lasted longer. She controlled his pace, his angle, his breathing. When he came again, she held him deep inside her and took everything he offered before restoring him with another pulse of energy.

"Again."

By the third round, Sasha's face had begun to blur in his memory. By the fourth, he couldn't recall why he'd ever wanted to leave this room. By the fifth, Colette's voice had replaced every other voice in his mind—his mistress, his matriarch.

Dolen continued his tasks at the edge of the chamber, his hollow stare fixed on the floor as he refreshed the water basin. His hands trembled.

When Colette finally finished with him, she pulled his exhausted body against her side and sank her hand into his hair.

"Sleep now." Her touch outlined the curve of his ear. "Tomorrow, you'll help me question our Federation guest."

Her words wrapped around him like chains.

He slept.

I woke up the next morning

Light leaked through the viewport above Colette's sleeping platform—amber, washed-out, the color of recycled mornings. Tapuck's eyes opened to the curved ceiling of the cabin, salvaged luxury surrounding him in layers of silk and soft fabric he couldn't name.

Every muscle ached. The exhaustion sat bone-deep, but beneath it—a warm satisfaction. The contentment of belonging completely.

Colette's arm lay heavy across his chest. Her hair spilled across his shoulder, copper-threaded dark strands catching the filtered light. Her breathing came slow and even against his neck.

Dolen worked without sound at the chamber's edge—replenishing the water basin, adjusting cushions that needed no adjustment, his empty eyes on the deck plating between his feet. His hands trembled only when he thought no one was watching.

The filtered air hummed through the walls. Distant footsteps echoed in the corridor beyond. Somewhere, the clan was waking.

Colette stirred. Her fingers traced idle patterns across his ribs—possessive, unhurried, the touch of someone who owned what she touched.

"Awake," she observed against his shoulder. Not a question. Her nails dragged lightly down his side, marking him again without breaking skin. "Medical reports our Federation guest will be coherent by midday. You'll assist with the questioning."

Her palm pressed flat against his sternum, feeling his heartbeat beneath her hand.

"But we have time before then."

She pulled him toward her, warmth rolling through him as her mouth found his throat.

"Show me what I've made of you."

Dolen's vacant eyes stayed on the floor, determined not to witness.

My mind is flooded. I am not myself, I am hers. I look to Dolen. "leave" I command. "I want to please my queen in private", I look to her with a smile.

Dolen's empty stare moved to Tapuck at the command. His feet shuffled toward the exit without protest or hesitation. He made no sound. The panel whisper-sealed behind him.

Colette's hand stilled against Tapuck's chest. Her amber eyes found his.

"Ordering my servants now?" Her nail traced his jaw. "Bold." She pulled him closer, warmth spreading through his limbs at her touch. "I like that."

Her leg hooked around his hip, drawing him against her.

"Now prove you deserve the privacy you asked for."

I felt like she wanted me to be powerful. Controlled, submissive, but powerful. I grabbed her and lifted her up with me as I stood. The silk sheets of the bed fell, revealing our naked bodies. While holding her with my enhanced strength, I slowly teased my cock inside of her. I stared deep into her eyes.

Colette's breath caught as his hands closed around her waist. When he lifted her from the silk, her thighs locked around him with practiced ease—but her amber stare sharpened with something beyond calculation. Raw interest.

He pressed into her slowly, feeling her slick heat envelop him inch by inch. Her nails bit into his shoulders. Her legs flexed around his hips.

"Look at me," she breathed.

He did. Her eyes held his without wavering as he filled her completely. The enhanced strength Sasha had given him held her suspended, her body draped against his chest while he drove into her from below. Each thrust met resistance from centuries of control—but each thrust also found the crack in that control. Her jaw loosened. Her breathing grew uneven.

She didn't command him to slow. Didn't direct his pace. For the first time since she'd claimed him, she let him set the rhythm—watched him take what she'd offered without fighting for control.

"That's it," she sighed against his throat. Her hands slid into his hair, gripping hard enough to hurt. "Show me what she made."

He did. His enhanced muscles bunched and released as he drove into her, carrying her weight effortlessly while his hips snapped forward. The wet sounds of their joining filled the cabin. Her moans mingled with his breathing. Her thighs clamped tighter around him.

When she finally came, her whole body shuddered against his chest. Her nails raked bloody trails down his back. Her teeth sank into his throat, hard enough to mark.

She rode the waves of her release while he continued moving inside her, her fingers tangled in his hair, her lips pressed against his pulse point.

"Again," she commanded, her voice ragged. "You're not finished."

She wasn't asking.

The light through the viewport had shifted—warmer, higher, marking mid-morning. Colette finally released him, her satisfaction evident in the lazy patterns her nails traced across his chest. Hours had blurred together. His body ached in ways that felt earned.

"Enough." She slid from the platform without ceremony, bare feet finding the deck plating. "We have work to do."

She crossed to a recessed panel in the hull wall and pressed her palm to the sensor. The surface slid open to reveal her collection—garments arranged by function, each piece curated for a specific purpose. Rich silks in deep colors hung alongside more practical layers, their enchantments subtle but present for those who knew what to look for.

"Interrogations require specific tools." She drew one piece after another, examining them. "The black gown from last night is presence. Authority. Useful for gatherings, for laying claim before witnesses." She set it aside without interest. "Marcus Venn is something different. Wounded. Starved. Three weeks of isolation have already broken down most of his resistance."

Her hand settled on a deep burgundy robe threaded with gold—strategic cuts that revealed more than they concealed, fabric that caught every shift of light.

"This one amplifies trust." She pressed the fabric to her frame, considering. "It makes the wearer seem generous. Someone worth confiding in." Her attention found him. "The officer needs coaxing, not crushing. He needs to believe I'm offering him something."

She returned to stand before him, letting him see the full effect of the garment before she began fastening it.

"The clasps. Then we'll discuss your role in the questioning." Her lips pressed briefly to his shoulder. "He's Fleet Intelligence. Trained to resist. You're going to help make him want to talk."

She presented her back, the first clasp waiting between her shoulder blades.

"Midday approaches. Don't make me late."

I did up her clasps with haste

His fingers moved quickly through the clasps, securing each one against her spine. The burgundy fabric closed around her frame, gold threading catching the light with each fastening until the final clasp clicked into place at the small of her back.

Colette turned to examine herself in the polished metal panel near the doorway. She adjusted the drape across her shoulders, smoothing the fabric near her collarbone, then turned to face him.

"Adequate." She crossed to a storage compartment and withdrew a dark garment—simple, unadorned, clearly meant for labor rather than display. "Wear this."

She tossed it to him.

"Marcus Venn was trained to resist seduction from predators like me. Fleet Intelligence conditioning." Her eyes tracked him as he pulled the fabric over his shoulders. "But he hasn't been trained to resist someone who was Federal once. Someone who might understand what it's like to be on the wrong side of Command."

She closed the distance between them, her hand finding his jaw.

"You're going to make him feel safe. Make him believe you're his ally." Her fingers dug into his skin. "And when he tells you what Command wants buried—you bring that information to me."

Her thumb brushed his lower lip.

"Not to Sasha. Not to anyone else. To me."

She released him and moved toward the door.

"Medical's already prepping him. We leave in five minutes."