Marked for Surrender Read Online Free PDF

walls, making her conclave seem like an ancient edifice to Old Earth. In reality, vid streams, cams, and weapon caches were dotted behind the artwork. Like her dominance, it was violence with a velvet glove beneath pleasure.
    When she reached the dungeon room, she opened the console hidden beside every room's door. The rooms in the conclave served one purpose: the punishment of prisoners. Only the staff rooms were free of constant surveillance and programming. Every room, even Mya's and Dina's, were set to Andia's voice commands.
    The program she chose was the usual first encounter, a promise of punishment and control. The room was her blank canvas, and she was the artist. It was her stage and she was the performer. The two men who would surrender to her were merely players. She was the star.
    The door slid open, and she stepped into the dungeon room. For a full minute, she studied the two men restrained against the wall. Her assertion of being the star was premature.
    They were polar opposites, one dark, one light. On the left, one man glanced up as she entered, his black eyes dark and filled with rage. His hair hung in his face. Stubble darkened his jaw. Dangerous. Every muscle of his body tensed, and his arms were tight against the metal cuffs. Lean and broad, the man had all the right angles and shadows to draw in a woman.
    Yet the other man compelled her attention as well. Light brown hair ruffled by his experience with her guards but laid flat against his scalp created an intense need within her to stroke his head. His eyes were closed, apparently still unconscious. His body, though less muscled than his partner's, was a work of art. Dips and valleys of his form would make any woman's mouth water. His face was sharply angled, his lips firm, and his jaw smooth.
    She'd programmed light to focus only on her prisoners, her entrance hidden in the shadows. The dark one must be Zevon Maco, and the handsome Adonis must be Christophe Onnis. They were like light and darkness, forgiveness and anger, heaven and hell.
    Zevon continued to squint at her, even though Andia was well aware he couldn't see her. Twice he peeked at Christophe, concern tightening his mouth.
    Christophe stirred and blinked his eyes open. His eyes were sky blue, beautiful and soft. So different from Zevon's harsh, dark look.
    Andia stepped closer, her heels clicking against the bare metal floor. As the bright light shone on the men, she noted several things. Zevon had been beaten recently. Bruises dotted his abdomen and his left eye and cheek. Three long cuts surrounded his dick, one where his hairline began below his stomach and two down the length of his upper thigh. Apparently someone had decided to punish Zevon before her.
    What was it about Zevon that had pissed off his prison guards?
    Christophe, in contrast, seemed to have been cared for. He was clean shaven, and his hair didn't look as if it had grown out for the two months he'd been in custody. His skin was unmarred, clean.
    Awake, Christophe had not met her gaze directly. His eyes remained down, focused on the toes of her boots, which were just in the circle of light. There was no fear or anger on his face. Unusual. His emotion seemed to be one of waiting, almost anticipation. A moment of doubt stole through her.
    Both men were silent, another difference. Fear, anger, arrogance, whichever emotion dominated her prisoners usually led them to speak, either to defy her or to taunt her. These men did neither.
    She stepped into the light and focused on her angry man. Zevon's reaction was both fascinating and gratifying. All the prisoners had lusted after her body, their cocks always showing instant interest.
    Zevon also revealed that she appealed to him, but something else fired his gaze. Fear? No, that wasn't it. It wasn't just desire. The men she'd always dealt with wanted to subjugate her, take away her power. She sensed none of this from Zevon.
    What stunned her was when he met her stare for a brief