Free Shepherd by KH LeMoyne Page B

shrugged. “I’ve seen some for the vehicles. A few for food and appliances. I used to search through them for ideas.”
    He’d leaned across her, draped intimately between her legs, his chin braced on his hand over her belly as he played with her breast. “There was a lot of focus on food—types of food, preparations of food, menus and recipes. I probably paid so much attention because—well, we don’t have those options.”
    The intense stare he gave her nipples and the way his thumb lazily brushed across one made her feel a bit like a morsel of food he was considering.
    “There was so much variety. Yet when it came down to delicacies, what appeared most coveted was a variation of something they called chocolate. Old, young, men, children, and especially women seemed enamored of the delicacy. The colors ranged from deep midnight black to light milk chocolate.” He dipped his head and rubbed his face against her abdomen with a final lick. “Milk chocolate the color of your skin. Offered in rectangles and round dots and sometimes filled with light creamy centers.”
    He chuckled as his finger circled around her nipple. “Inside and out—I doubt it was this delicious.”
    His squeeze of her breast and tongue’s caress sent a shudder through her. “And the sugar?” She forced the words.
    “Confections were what they called them—cocoa beans, cocoa butter, and sugar. The only interest I had was in the final smooth product after the addition of the sugar.” His kiss pressed into her belly, the tip of his tongue carving a ticklish design over her skin. “You remind me of sugar every time I look at you. Tasting just reinforces my assumption.”
    “That explains the hungry looks.”
    His grin widened as his hands drifted down her body. His expression of levity and anticipation turned to stone with the beep of a communiqué on the far wall.
    He swept up her pants and tossed them to the table before he strode away, business focus rigidly back in place. Esme eased into her clothes with a silent sigh. Each time something new popped up, she felt like she was racing to beat a deadline in their relationship. Where moments before they’d shared an incredible intimacy, from Clay’s movements and expression, now mistrust returned, locked back into place.
    She waited a few minutes, her chin on her knees, watching him from her spot on the table. His actions and task executions were economical, no wasted time or movements. The more worried he became over this extraction, the more efficient he became—and the more closed off from her.
    For all of her work and suggestions, the prospect of helping him make headway on his mission appeared futile.
     
    ***
     
    Orcus: Shepherd?
    Clay spun off a separate virtual screen for other incoming transmissions and responded. Active
    Orcus: SS5 verified Central 3 Facility Below
    Aaron’s team had surfaced. Central 3 was located in the belly beneath New Delphi’s grid, between the central point of the five-mile platform and the edge closest to the woods of the western foothills. Now all he needed was Aaron’s exact location within the barracks, some indication as to the reason for Sicaria Squad 5’s return to home base, and someone insane enough to provide a distraction on the inside. No fuckin’ problem. Copy SS5 #s?
    Orcus: 3
    Shit. The squad always left with seven. Wolf status
    Orcus: Confirmed present—my designation on the team?
    No. Team already established . No way in hell was he allowing Orcus, or Hena, as Aaron would remember her, to join the team. Whatever Aaron’s state once they extracted him, there’d be no holding him back if something happened to his one obsession. Then again, the transformation that Hena had endured during Aaron’s absence would be enough of a shock. Her infiltration into the darker side of Down Below’s sex clubs, to search for word on Aaron and Regent activity, made Clay and every other team member uneasy.
    Orcus: Onyx designation on the