A Ripe Peach

Their words hang between us, ugly and obvious. I keep the empty Colt trained on Mars anyway. “Don’t,” I say again, quieter this time. Neither of them listens. Mars shifts his weight forward just enough to close the distance by a fraction. Lizard mirrors him without even looking, like they have done this together a hundred times before.

The trailer suddenly feels even smaller, the walls pressing in from both sides. If the gun isn’t going to convince them, I'll try something that usually does. I let my shoulders relax just a little and slow my breathing on purpose. The fear is still there, bright and sharp, but I push it down beneath something older and deeper.

I meet Mars’ eyes directly and hold them, letting the heat rise behind my gaze the way it always does when I lean into it. “Hey,” I say softly. “We don’t have to do this.” My voice changes when I do that, warmer, the kind of tone that makes people lean in without realizing it. Their eyes stay on me.

I take a half step forward instead of back. “You’ve already got what you came for,” I continue, letting my words slow and stretch. “Truck. Gun. Supplies. You don’t need me.”.I let a hint of a smile touch my mouth, just enough to soften the edges. “Or maybe you do,” I add.

That usually does it. Men hesitate. They look at me differently. They start thinking with the wrong part of their brain. Mars just watches me. Lizard’s grin doesn’t fade, but it doesn’t change either. His eyes don’t soften. They don’t glaze over. They stay sharp, bright, and completely focused.

I push harder. The heat rises under my skin, that familiar pull building in my chest. I let my succubus charm bleed into my expression, into my voice, into the space between us. I know exactly what I look like right now. I have seen it reflected in too many mirrors, in too many men’s faces right before they make a mistake.

“Come on,” I murmur. “You don’t want to hurt me.” Mars tilts his head slightly, like he is studying a bug. Lizard chuckles softly, and there is nothing nervous or distracted in the sound, only a kind of crude amusement that sends a chill through me. The heat in my chest falters for the first time since I started using it, and the realization hits me just as hard as my failure.

I push again, harder this time, forcing it, trying to drag that response out of them the way I always can. There is no flicker of confusion, no need that I can twist into something I control, just those same steady, unblinking stares. Realization hits me cold. My curse isn’t working on them.

Whatever made them, years of inbreeding, radiation, God knows what else, it broke something fundamental. The part of them that reacts to me the way normal men do just… isn’t there. Lizard’s grin widens. “Okay,” I say quietly. I raise the Colt a fraction higher even though we all know it is empty. “New plan.”

Mars moves first. He closes the distance in a single step, faster than a man his size should be able to move. I fire out of instinct anyway, the hammer falling on an empty chamber with a dry, useless click. He doesn’t even flinch. His hand slams into my wrist and twists.

Pain spikes up my arm as the gun is wrenched free before I can even tighten my grip. I pivot into him, driving my elbow toward his throat, putting everything I have into it. The blow lands hard, with enough **** to snap a normal man’s head back and drop him where he stands. Mars’ chin jerks from the impact, but he barely gives any ground at all, his expression shifting only slightly as he absorbs it.

“Strong,” he says, almost approving. Lizard hits me from the side. He moves lighter than I expect, fast and low, his shoulder slamming into my ribs and driving the air out of my lungs in a sharp grunt. I stagger, trying to recover, and swing at him with my free hand.

My fist connects with his cheek with enough **** to snap a normal man’s head to the side and drop him where he stands. It should hurt him, and it should do something more than just turn his face for a split second. Instead, his head jerks sharply from the impact and then comes right back, the grin never leaving his face.

I am stronger than a normal woman, and I know exactly what I can do when I put that strength behind a strike. I have relied on it more times than I can count, but it does not matter here, not against them. Mars’ hand clamps down on my upper arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise instantly.

I twist, trying to slip his grip, but Lizard is already behind me, grabbing my other arm, yanking it back. I drive my heel down toward Mars’ knee. I slam my head backward toward Lizard’s face. I twist and kick and shove with everything I have, using every dirty trick I know.

For a second, I almost break free. Then Mars shifts his weight, bracing, absorbing the impact of my kicks. Lizard tightens his grip, pulling my arms back farther, forcing my shoulders into an angle that steals my leverage. They are stronger than I am, not by a huge margin but enough to tip the balance completely in their favor, and together it is not even close.

My boots scrape uselessly against the floor as they drag me back into the narrow space of the trailer. My breath comes fast and sharp while adrenaline burns through me, but there is nowhere to go and no opening to exploit. Mars steps in close, looking down at me while I strain against their grip.

“Good fight,” he says. Mars's rough palms are surprisingly warm as they grope my breasts beneath the denim of my overals, his thick fingers squeezing with a possessive, testing pressure. Mars chuckles, the sound like grinding gravel, and his grip tightens, his thumbs rubbing rough circles over my nipples, now stiffened against my will.

Lizard's hand cups me from below, his touch clinical and invasive. "Good milk in these udders," he observes to Mars, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Prime stock." Lizard's scarred hand slides up my bare thigh, his forked tongue hissing a soft laugh near my ear. "Look at her, Mars," he rasped. "Plump as a ripe peach."