by Tana Stone
Pursued
Raider Warlords of the Vandar #4
Tana Stone
Broadmoor Books
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
Also by Tana Stone
About the Author
Chapter One
Alana
I leaned against the steel hull of the ship as the imperial soldiers rolled metal crates of cargo up the ramp and coughed as a gust kicked up dust around me. For a moment, I wondered what was in the locked containers stamped with foreign symbols. Then I remembered that it didn’t matter, and I didn’t care. The cargo wasn’t the point of my mission, and whatever had been placed inside the crates I’d be transporting was only there to hide the trackers. Trackers that would lead the Zagrath to the Vandar horde I was planning to infiltrate.
The idea of going solo into a Vandar horde should have terrified me. It would have made any reasonable person’s blood run cold. But I wasn’t a reasonable person. I was one of the empire’s top assassins. I was the one they sent in when they needed someone fearless. Someone who wasn’t afraid to kill or be killed. The one who seduced her victims before she killed them. The one they called Mantis in dark whispers.
Flicking my fingers through the choppy layers of hair that brushed my shoulders, I scanned the outpost’s crowded shipyard and sighed. Despite the fact that I was heading out for my most deadly mission yet, I was eager to get off the planet. The time between missions always made me antsy. I’d rather be in the thick of a battle or deep undercover than waiting. Waiting gave me too much time to think, and thinking too much was never a good thing in my line of work. I tapped one of my black boots on the ground. Not to mention the fact that patience was not one of my virtues, especially not if it meant hanging out on a backwater outpost for much longer.
I took a bite of the hard jerky I’d been nibbling on—my sad excuse for breakfast—the salty flavor sharp on my tongue. Swallowing, I gazed at the buildings in the distance.
Rellaren looked like any other imperial outpost, with Zagrath soldiers in steel-blue uniforms and shiny, black helmets bustling around dull-gray ships. Gleaming droids zoomed across the hardpacked earth, dodging the faceless soldiers and emitting sharp beeps. Ships arrived and departed with regularity, kicking up clouds of dust that made me pull my shirt over my nose to keep from choking.
“Another day in paradise,” I muttered to myself.
Like most imperial outposts, Rellaren had barracks for soldiers as well as rowdy canteens for the couriers and supply runners to occupy their time while they waited for cargo to be loaded and unloaded. Repair shops were pressed up against scrap-metal dealers, and an open-air market sold you just about anything you could need for a space journey. There were a few discreet pleasure houses on the outskirts, but the quality of the pleasurers was not what you’d find on a pleasure planet or a pleasure ship. Not that I frequented pleasure houses, but I heard enough of the other crews talking to know.
Even from a distance, the scent of greasy food being prepared for the midday meal mixed with fumes from the engines, making the air around me both hazy and fetid. I glanced at the soldiers still wheeling crates into the belly of my ship. I should have time for a last Rellaren menashi. The thin bread spread with a spiced meat paste and wrapped into a long roll was the only redeeming quality of the dingy outpost. My stomach growled as I thought about the crunch of the bread and the tangy kick of the meat. Since I’d be eating ration packs on the ship until I was intercepted by the Vandar, this was my last chance for decent food.
Before I could head for the nearest menashi stand outside the gates of the shipyard, a hand closed over my arm. Without thinking, I clamped my own hand on top and spun around, flipping the male onto his back and landing on top of him with my knees straddling his shoulders.
“Whoa, Alana.” The Rellarian male’s eyes were wide as he blinked up at me. “I just came to see you off.”
I leaned back and released my grip on his hands. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that, Tannel.”
The creases in his brow relaxed, leaving only the traditional Rellarian ridges that formed a point between his eyebrows. “Not that I mind you being on top.”
I gave him a half smile as I stood and pulled him up with me. Even though Tannel was taller and broader than me, he didn’t have the years of combat training I did—or the finely honed reflexes. “Maybe next visit.”
He closed the short distance between us, lowering his head to mine. His light-brown hair tickled my cheek as it fell forward. “You sure you have to rush off so soon? You just got here.”
I shrugged and tried to ignore the warmth of his breath on my neck. “Sorry. The life of an imperial supply runner.”
He gave a snort of laughter. “You’re the finest imperial supply runner I’ve ever seen.”
“You mean I’m the only one you share your bed with?” I teased.
Another laugh, this one louder. “You clearly haven’t seen your competition. Big, hairy Taralians. Grulnix with spikes for hands. No, I’ll take a Zagrath like you any day.”
“I’m not Zagrath,” I corrected. I’d had that fact pounded into me enough that my reaction was automatic.
“Human, then. Didn’t the Zagrath and humans both come from Earth?”
“A long time ago. The Zagrath were the ones with the money and resources to augment their biology. That’s why they’re bigger.”
He put a hand on my waist. “I still prefer your biology.”
“Yeah?” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Well, the Zagrath also live longer than humans do.”
“And rule the galaxy,” Tannel grumbled, then caught himself. “Not that I mean I don’t—“
“I’m not going to turn you in.” I lowered my voice so the passing soldiers couldn’t hear me. “I know not everyone likes living under imperial rule.”
He let out a relieved breath. “So, why do you work for them again?”
“The same reason you live on one of their outposts.”
He cocked his head at me. “You have no choice.”
“Does anyone have a choice when it comes to the Empire?” I asked. “At least they pay well.”
“For supply runners, maybe. Not if you run a repair shop.” Tannel peered up at my ship. “When are you going to take me with you?”
I stifled a sigh. As much as I enjoyed my time spent rolling around in bed with the Rellarian, I could never take him with
me. For all he knew, I delivered supplies from one imperial planet to the next. He had no clue that I left a trail of dead imperial enemies in my wake. I had a feeling it would sour our relationship if he knew I could snap his neck in a matter of seconds.
“Come on,” I slapped at his chest. “You’d miss all this. There are no menashi in space.”
He held my gaze. “But you’re there.”
Oh, boy. I did my best to keep things casual with the males I used for release and entertainment. I kept it fun and fast, and was always clear from the start that I didn’t want anything serious. In my line of work, I couldn’t risk getting attached to anyone or anything. Not when an attachment could be used against me. And I could not allow myself to have any weaknesses. Not if I was the best. And I had to be the best. The empire had also drilled that into me.
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him lightly. “I promise to do something extra special to you next time.”
The hurt expression behind his eyes faded, and his vertical, almond-shaped pupils flared. “You sure you don’t have time now?” His hand tightened on my waist, and he jerked me against him. “I can give you something to think about while you’re gone.”
The bulge in his pants was hard as it pressed into my stomach, and I wished I did have time. The Rellarian might not be the sharpest blade, but what he didn’t have in brains he made up for with the size of his cock, and he was my favorite distraction on the outpost. Even more than menashi, and that was saying something.
I cut my eyes to the imperial soldiers loading my ship. Their helmets made it impossible to tell if they were watching me, but I shouldn’t take any chances. I stepped away from Tannel. “Next time. I promise.”
He frowned. “How long will you be gone?”
“No idea.” This wasn’t a lie. My mission could be quick, or it could take so long he’d forget all about me. I had no illusions that the Rellarian was faithful to me, nor did I want him to be.
“A supply runner who doesn’t know how long a run will take her?” He eyed me, and I got the feeling he might be shrewder than I’d given him credit for. “What are you really, Alana?”
I smiled at him. “Just another lowly human working for the empire to stay alive.”
He looked like he didn’t believe me, but I was telling the truth again. I’d been working for the empire to stay alive since they’d taken me when I was a child. I hadn’t been given a choice when I’d been thrown into their academy and trained relentlessly. Now, I was the most lethal person in the Zagrath Empire, but I still worked for them. There was no other option in a galaxy where the imperial reach was long and their vengeance deadly. I should know. I was usually the one meting it out.
Tannel pressed his lips together and nodded. “If you do manage to stay alive, I’ll be here.”
Even though the Rellarian wasn’t more than a bit of fun for me, I locked eyes with him. “You’re a good guy, Tannel. You deserve someone who can give you a future. That isn’t me.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but I put my hand over his lips. “I can never give you what you want. Please believe me.”
I turned sharply and strode up the ramp of my ship, not looking behind me. No matter what happened with the Vandar mission, I would not return to Rellaren.
“That’s a fucking shame.” I stomped through the ship, passing the last few imperial soldiers. I would miss the menashi and Tannel, but getting attached to either was a bad idea, and the Rellarian was clearly getting too close for comfort.
I huffed out a breath. Tannel wasn’t the first male I’d left behind with a bruised heart, and he wouldn’t be the last. My trail of abandoned lovers was almost as impressive as my trail of dead bodies.
“That’s the last of it,” one of the helmeted soldiers said as I headed to the cockpit. “You’re all set.”
“Good.” The sooner I could take off the better. I had my orders, and I knew my mission. The imperial general had given me strict instructions. I was to pose as a female escapee from an imperial mining colony, and let my ship wander into Vandar space. Then I was to beg for assistance and be taken onto a Vandar horde. Since they were raiders, they would confiscate my cargo, which would allow the empire to track both it and me. When the Zagrath tracked down the horde, they would attack, and I would assassinate the warlord of the Vandar horde.
It wasn’t foolproof—nothing was—but we knew that the Vandar monitored their space for encroaching ships. We also knew that the raiders had recently taken human females as part of their hordes. I knew the empire was using me for my looks as well as for my skills as an assassin. It was expected that I would use all my skills to make the Raas trust me, even if that meant seducing the brute and letting him claim me.
The thought of using my body didn’t bother me. Sex had always been part of my arsenal. I’d learned early that males could be easily swayed by their cocks. The Vandar Raas would be no different.
I entered the compact bridge and saw the imperial soldier waiting for me. I’d almost forgotten this part of the plan.
“You are ready?” he asked drawing back his hand.
I fisted my hands, both pissed I hadn’t gotten my menashi after all, and to brace myself for the blow. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Two
Bron
My majak leaned back on the bench and took a swig from his goblet of Vandar wine. “The Raas quarters suit you.”
I took a gulp of wine, letting the sharp tang fill my mouth and burn its way down my throat. I placed my goblet on the shiny, ebony table that seemed too long and imposing for only two warriors. Then again, everything about the spacious suite felt like too much compared to the officer’s quarters I’d previously occupied.
Peering out the wall of glass that overlooked the inky blackness of space, I blew out a heavy breath. “I keep expecting to see Kratos.”
It had been many rotations since Raas Kratos had given up his horde in favor of staying on the Vandar colony of Zendaren with his human bride, who was expecting the first Vandar-human baby. Even so, it felt surreal that Kratos had appointed me to succeed him as Raas, and I was now occupying the Raas quarters that had once been his. I had spent much time in these quarters conferring with Kratos, but never had I expected to be residing in them myself.
My eyes scanned the large space with gleaming floors and walls as black as the eternal night beyond the glass. Chunky, dark furnishings were sparsely arranged and bolted to the floor so they would not slide during battle. The fire inset in one of the walls crackled with blue flames, producing dancing shadows in the dimly lit room, but not much heat. Not that I minded. Vandar needed little clothing, and we were never cold. Even the large bed, with its imposing headboard fashioned from iron battle axes welded together, was only covered in silky sheets the color of blood—a change from the black ones Kratos had used, and one of the few alterations I’d made to the Raas quarters.
“Of course, he is missed.” Svar rested his thick forearms on the table. “But you have filled his boots admirably, Raas.”
“I have yet to be tested.” I flicked my gaze at the warrior who’d served with me on the command deck, and whom I’d elevated to the position of my first officer. “Neither of us have.”
Svar met my eyes and nodded, obviously not taking my statement as a rebuke. “Because the Vandar have struck important blows to the empire, and our horde was part of that.”
He lifted his goblet to me in toast. I joined him, clinking my glass with his and chugging the last of my wine. Instead of warming my belly, the pungent wine tasted sour as it twisted in my gut.
What he said was true, but it did not make me feel better. Along with two other Vandar hordes, we had destroyed an entire imperial fleet and prevented them from reaching our secret colonies and kept the Zagrath admiral from communicating his knowledge of our hidden people to the rest of the empire. As far as we knew, the Zagrath empire was back to square one in their hunt for our colonies and in their attempts to weaken us.
But
all this had taken place before I’d taken over as Raas. Since I had been given control of the horde, things had been unnaturally quiet. We’d been patrolling our assigned sector with almost no incursions, and the Zagrath appeared to be in retreat, which was a victory for everyone in the galaxy who opposed imperial rule. Despite our apparent win, I could not allow myself to celebrate too much. Since I’d taken on my role as Raas, I had been unable to shake the sense of foreboding that dogged my thoughts and chased away my sleep.
“Until the empire is destroyed, our mission is unchanged,” I said, my voice a throaty rumble.
Svar nodded. “But perhaps it is less difficult.”
I shrugged. I’d chosen my majak because he had the ability to see victory in defeat. That, and I trusted him to be honest with me. Even still, I had not told him the nagging sense of doom I’d felt since our horde had lifted off the surface of Zendaren, and I’d officially been the warlord of my own horde. Admitting this would be admitting weakness, and I had watched Raas Kratos and his father Raas Bardon before him enough to know that weakness was a luxury a Raas could ill afford. Of course, I had not had a father to teach me like Kratos had. Was that why I felt tendrils of unworthiness snaking through my mind? Did I fear that my humble origins as an orphan made me weak?
I did not feel weak, but I did feel an uncontrollable frustration with my new role. Being called Raas did not fill me with pride like it should have, and that stoked a burning fury deep within me—one I fought to control.
