An Undeniable Passion: Outer Worlds Passion series, #3

By Evelyn Lederman

Some secrets can't be revealed.

Unjustly considered a bombing suspect, Tamara Keyes is forced to shed her fake identity. When confronted with being found guilty of the crime or admitting the truth, she remains quiet. The fate awaiting her is preferable to what would occur if her secrets were revealed.

Monte Simpson is helpless to save the woman he loves. Rather than supporting her, he surrenders into depression and guilt. As her truths are revealed, his earlier behavior drives a wedge in any attempts to reconcile.

Relationships in the 31stCentury are as complicated as they are today. Get caught up in the third book in the Outer Worlds Passion series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Lederman
• Release date: Dec 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386701385

Book preview

Prologue

At the dawn of the twenty-third century, mankind had depleted most of Earth’s natural resources. Corporations became more powerful than governments because they controlled what little raw materials that remained. They placed their profits into space exploration and invested in space stations and terra forming worlds.

Over the centuries, the Earth healed. Only the ultra-rich could afford to live on the planet. To support their lifestyles, parents sold their genetically-engineered daughters into marriages. The genetic enhancements tied to the woman were considered a commodity and ownership shifted to the husband upon confirmation of credits transferred.

Chapter 1

When Tamara Keyes stared at her reflection, it was Misha Clark’s battered face she saw. How had her desire to help others, turned her into a wanted fugitive? She was beyond screwed.

She pulled the amber-colored lenses from her irritated eyes. They still teared as a result of smoke from the explosion. There was a ringing in her ears that caused a slight disorientation. The bombing had rocked her senses. It was an act of terrorism everyone believed she was responsible for.

Fortunately, no one had been killed by the blast. She made her escape as panicked workers scrambled for the elevators. In the confusion, she was separated from Ian Oliver, the one really responsible for setting off the explosion.

She was relieved to have escaped him. The bastard caused both her poor physical condition and the situation she found herself in. From the first day she met him, Tamara knew he was trouble. She should’ve listened to the little voice inside her head and given the man a wide berth.

Tamara needed help but there was no one she could turn to. Her friend, Laurel Holmes, had been one of the people trapped by the cave-in. After what happened, Laurel was the last person she could contact. That was assuming her husband Gerald would allow her within the proximity of his wife.

It was also doubtful Sydney Wilson would aid her. The former militia cadet and one-time bodyguard for Laurel, still considered the girl her responsibility. Sydney had been the one who paved the way for Tamara’s first contact with the woman she believed could assist her in getting Zeta’s air tested.

Misha Clark disappeared as she pulled off her black wig. A shock of red hair greeted her. She ran her fingers across her scalp, relieving the irritating itch she experienced whenever she wore the damned wig.

What are you going to do? Elaine Nelson asked. She jumped at the sound of her friend’s voice. It was dangerous to be so deep in her thoughts, she didn’t hear someone approach.

Elaine was the only person on Zeta who knew her as Tamara Keyes. Their friendship had spanned the last ten years. The woman had accidentally called her Tamara in front of Laurel. In all likelihood, the authorities had her true first name, but wouldn’t have been able to find out anymore. Tamara had more aliases than she could remember. Her true identity was well hidden. Only DNA put into the intergalactic database would result in her downfall.

We need to make it to the space station and find separate transports to the Frontier. She continued to scratch her head. I’m going to need a new identity.

As long as she stayed with Elaine, she endangered more than their lives. She needed to get to her apartment in the outer ring of the space station to assure their escape. Her time was limited any way she looked at it.

It’ll take a couple of days, Elaine informed her. The identity is easy, placing the manipulated DNA into the system is another story. You’ll need another wig. That hair of yours will grab everyone’s attention, particularly with your purple flesh.

Like everyone on the planet, her skin had been tinted purple by a compound in the dome’s atmosphere that neutralized the methane gas that seeped through the shields. It would permanently mark her time on Zeta.

I have a brunette wig, Tamara commented. There’s no way I can stay here for two days. My Yvette Brook’s identity should be clear.

Tamara returned to the bathroom and pulled a vial from the cabinet. She drank the foul tasting liquid that would modify the monitoring of her DNA for the next couple of hours. The remaining vials were stuffed into her pocket. The indispensable drug was her only hope of getting off the planet and the space station that orbited Zeta.

The brunette wig was stashed behind rows of makeup and moisturizers. She pulled on the wig and reached for a pair of brown lenses. Soon, her hazel eyes no longer stared back at her. Yvette now stood before her.

She adjusted the wig. When I’m safe, I’ll send word to the usual place. Take care of our most precious possession.

You know I will, Elaine replied. Tears were already streaming down her friend’s face. It was always difficult when they had to leave wherever they’d put down temporary roots.

Elaine embraced her and she tightened her hold on her dearest friend. The longer she stayed, the greater danger Elaine was exposed to. It was critical the authorities didn’t focus too closely on her.

Before she lost her nerve, Tamara released her friend and left the apartment. She walked down the dark stairwell. Housing on the planet was substandard at best.

A playground sat across the street. She watched the children play for as long as she dared. A precious child turned in her direction and waived. She returned the gesture while stifling a cry.

When she was close to the docking location for the shuttle to the space station, Tamara joined the crowd hurrying to make it to the conveyance before it left. She was a master at blending into a crowd. No one would look twice at her.

They moved at a snail’s pace once she was in line. Decontamination protocols were as stringent to leave the dome as they were when passengers entered into the sterile environment. She tried to hide her anxiety related to the delay. Now wasn’t the time to stand out.

When she reached the front of the line, she scanned the pass identifying her as Yvette Brooks. She held her breath until the all-clear green light flashed. Too worked up to sit once she entered the shuttle, she found a place to stand for the thirty-minute trip to the space station.

Not one to waste time, Tamara reviewed her next steps in her mind. She had developed a meticulous process over the years when they needed to run. Making rash, last minute decisions would result in making mistakes. They executed well thought out plans.

When the shuttle docked, several guards were visible. She reminded herself security was always there when a conveyance from the surface arrived. It was nothing out of the ordinary and she needed to stop reading problems into every glance.

As she stepped off the shuttle, she made eye contact with one of the male guards and smiled. The gesture caused the man to grin and then direct his attention to the man behind her. She’d done nothing to alert the guard. Not making eye contact would’ve been suspicious.

A crush of people worked their way from the docking ramp into the outer ring. Tamara made idle conversation with the woman beside her, further shielding her within the crowd.

Fortunately, the woman lived in the same section of the outer ring as she did. They shared their favorite restaurants and shops as they walked home like long-time friends. Security wouldn’t look twice at two chatting females.

When Tamara reached her apartment, the retina scanner allowed her immediate access into her domicile. She let out a breath of relief as the lock disengaged. The successful scan also initiated a transfer of credits to Elaine. Her friend and their treasure could now afford to travel to the Frontier. She had cards with credits contained within her apartment for her own escape.

She closed the door behind her, not bothering to turn on any lights. All she needed was her travel bag and she’d head to whatever transport was leaving the station first, regardless of the direction. Her bag was always packed.

You’ve become careless, a male drawled. I wasn’t expecting to catch you so easily, Misha or whatever the hell your name is.

Tamara twirled in the direction of the familiar voice. Monte Simpson’s mass was barely visible in the dark. The timbre of his voice caused tremors to course through her body. He was the only man she’d ever loved.

Misha Clark’s eyes squinted as he turned on the light next to where he sat. To his surprise, she didn’t attempt to escape the apartment. He was expecting to give chase.

Monte’s eyes soaked in every delicious inch of her. She wore a short skirt displaying her long, powerful, muscular legs. In her bare feet, she stood nearly six feet tall.

Her irises were now brown rather than the amber color that had caused him to mistakenly identify her as a Theta hybrid, not the woman he’d spent two incredible weeks with on the pleasure planet. Her face was bruised from the beating Laurel had described that took place before the explosion.

Although he’d come to arrest her, his agitation increased when she stepped farther into the light. Her injuries were more pronounced than he expected. No one had the right to harm the woman who had once been his.

You knew me as Wendy. Misha shrugged, seeming to be unaffected by her circumstances. It may be easier just to call me by that name.

His cock hardened at the memories invading his mind. Once in the heat of passion, you asked me to call you Tamara. Maybe that’s what I should call you.

Tamara narrowed her eyes. How did you find me?

The woman he knew had always been thinking, planning her next moves. It was difficult to keep her in bed the two weeks they were together. For whatever reason, she was mentally halfway out the door. It had been five years, but that time would always be cemented in his memory.

The identity card for Yvette Brooks was never scanned traveling to the surface, he informed her. Very careless of you, Tamara.

Stupid, she muttered to herself. I imagine you’re here to arrest me. Regardless of whatever Ian may have claimed, I wasn’t involved in the bombing.

He trusted this woman once and she broke his heart. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d make that mistake again. As it was, he’d changed aspects of his personality to become a better man.

She’d complained he was self-centered and didn’t consider the feelings of others. He’d pondered over the twelve people who’d been trapped by the explosion, instead of just the damage and loss of revenue the explosion caused. That empathy had lit a fire underneath him to find those responsible for the bombing.

Monte steeled his heart against her. Your supposed beating couldn’t have been better timed, he sneered. He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. Her betrayal still clear in his mind as if it were yesterday. The results look pretty convincing that you’re a victim. At least, that’s what I’m supposed to believe.

Instead of denying his outlandish claims, Tamara removed her clothing. He was so shocked by her actions, he didn’t immediately notice the black and blue marks that marred her perfection. Even with the purple discoloration of her skin, angry bruises covered her body. He took in a breath when he noted the injuries on her side. The bastard must have kicked her.

Does this look like the aftermath of an orchestrated charade? Tamara asked. He noticed she tried to hide emotions as she swallowed the last portion of her question.

Tamara hadn’t worn undergarments. She stood before him nude as the day she was born. It was unlikely she and Ian planned the extent of her injuries. He couldn’t imagine any woman would’ve been willing to take such a beating. Her accomplice said she’d deny her involvement.

He gazed at her beauty, despite her injuries. Tamara returned his perusal with an aggressive stare. She dared him to break eye contact with her. It was a game he didn’t intend to lose.

To his surprise, she went down on her knees and spread them wide. His cocked jerked in response. She lowered her head to the floor and joined her hands behind her back.

What the fuck are you doing? Monte demanded. His body heated at the invitation, although his mind rebelled against it.

I believe the position is used by Terrellian women when they submit to their mate.

Tamara shook her ass, a clear invitation to place his throbbing member deep inside her warmth. His mind fought his body’s reaction. She’d thrown him off his axis with her actions.

You haven’t got a submissive bone in your body, Monte responded. Only a full-blooded Terrellian woman can handle the rigors of ritual sex. Besides, you’re a criminal. I’m here to arrest you, not fuck you.

He’d feel like an animal fucking a battered woman. Monte was angry, but not to that extent. Sex should never be used as a punishment.

She didn’t respond but remained in the subservient position. His erection was painful to the point it was hard to fight his primal urges.

When her legs spread farther apart, Monte lost his battle not to take what was offered. He unzipped his pants and pushed them past his hips, taking his briefs along for the ride. His erection was free to be buried within her depths.

Monte stood over her ass as his musculature expanded in excitement. Although he was only one-quarter Marvellian, he inherited most of his facial features and characteristics from his maternal grandmother. Someone who wasn’t intimidated by his size would call him pretty.

Coming down on his knees, he positioned himself behind Tamara. He placed one hand on her back and covered her pussy with the other. Evidence of her excitement dripped onto his palm.

With his sixth finger, he entered through her feminine folds. The extra digit on a Terrellian separated their race from other humanoids. It was also the only digit that vibrated.

Tamara cried out after he rubbed against her clit. He let it settle on top until she came for the first time. His free hand held her in place as her body writhed on the floor. By some miracle, her arms were still locked against her back. It took extreme concentration to succumb to the pleasure she experienced and still retain some semblance of the ritual positioning.

Readjust your stance, Monte ordered. Her back had curved and she was almost parallel to the floor. He wasn’t going to make it easy for her. She was the one who offered herself in this manner. His cock was too fucking hard to stop this ridiculous exercise.

After her ass was properly situated, he drilled into her. He filled her to the hilt. His cock expanded within her, generating a scream from the woman below him. She was one of the few Earth women who could tolerate the Terrellian anatomy. They had never attempted ritual sex before. Taking possession of her forearms, he pulled back.

Each time her vaginal muscles contracted, he released the pressure on her arms, only to pull her back as she released her hold on him. He couldn’t fathom why she’d debase herself to fuck in this manner.

Terrellian men didn’t have to enter and withdraw from the female to create friction. Their unique physiology did all the work. This was the position both men and women experienced the greatest