Even in a time when genetic engineering had made beauty commonplace, Dona was nothing short of heart-stopping. Tall and lean, she had the long, strong build of a fighter, yet there was more than enough curve to her breasts and ass to draw his hot-blooded attention. As usual, she wore her long, dark hair in intricate braids that called attention to her striking violet eyes. Her features were precisely sculpted, cheekbones high and rounded, with a firm chin and a soft, sensual mouth.
That mouth had been the focus of far too many of his most erotic dreams.
It was an entirely inappropriate attraction, and he knew it. She was his subordinate. Though it wasn’t against Temporal Enforcement regulations to take a lover from among one’s staff, doing so was a very bad idea. How was he supposed to maintain objectivity about a woman who’d obsessed him for the past two years?
To make matters worse, Dona returned his interest. She’d never said so directly, of course—she was as aware of the inherent problems as he was. But her powerful female response to him was entirely too clear to a man with sensor implants.
Unfortunately, Alerio wasn’t the only one who’d sensed her interest.
At first, he’d been relieved when Dona had gotten involved with Ivar Terje. Terje, however, had proven to be a jealous son of a bitch who’d made Dona’s life hell even before he’d revealed himself to be a spy. He’d treated Dona so badly, Alerio had itched to call him out for a Warlord-style duel.
Meaning no weapons, no rules, and no mercy.
As the couple’s commanding officer, however, Alerio hadn’t been able to do that. Now, though, he could finally give Terje the beating he’d been begging for. If he ever actually caught the bastard anyway.
Brooding, Alerio rotated the gravbar, ignoring the ache of his straining arms. The bar basically functioned the same as an antigrav unit, but in reverse. Its actual weight was only a kilo or so, but he’d adjusted its field generators until its mass was closer to four hundred. Controlling that mass deserved every bit of his attention and strength, but it was all he could do to keep his gaze from drifting to Dona.
She opened one of the lockers set in the wall and activated the combot it contained. The towering gray android stepped out of the locker and trailed her over to the circular combat mat in the center of the gym.
Dona and the combot bowed to each other, signaling the beginning of the session. An imagizer field flared around the android, abruptly transforming it into the likeness of Ivar Terje.
He winced. Why had she programmed it to . . . ?
Her elegant features twisted into a chilling mask of rage at the sight of her ex-lover’s face. Dona flung herself at the practice android in a flurry of punches and kicks, driving the combot into retreat.
Never mind.
Alerio deactivated his gravbar and turned to watch. Three weeks before, Ivar had sabotaged a combot and programmed it to kill Jessica Kelly. The machine had damned near choked Jess to death, and would have had she not blown it apart with telekinetic abilities she’d acquired from the alien Sela.
Alerio and Galar, Jess’s lover, had supposedly plugged the security holes Ivar had used to program the combot to kill. But considering what had happened to Riane Arvid’s T-suit, he wasn’t in the mood to take chances.
Not that keeping an eye on Dona was a hardship. She wore black snugs and a matching breast band, and her long, elegant feet were bare. It was the sort of costume that showed off her lean, lush build in a way that made his dick do a happy little dance.
But it wasn’t just the barely clothed contours of her body that enthralled him. It was the way she moved.
Each attack flowed into the next until it was impossible to tell where punch ended and block began, where roundhouse kick became spinning retreat. The combot had been programmed to mimic the raw, physical power of Ivar’s fighting style, his vicious intensity and mercilessness. Dona was every bit as ferocious, but she met his power with blurring speed and agility. It was like watching a mongoose fight a cobra.
Long minutes went by in a hypnotic rain of blows as Dona took out her rage on the combot. Until at last she landed a kick to the android’s head that was so clean, so powerful, that the machine simply stopped and announced, “Killing blow.”
Dona turned to Alerio, sweat streaming down her lean body, her breath coming in rasping pants. Her face was white with rage, and her violet eyes blazed. “Do you really think I’m part of that bastard Ivar’s treason?”
Alerio shook his head. “What I think is irrelevant. Headquarters sent Corydon to investigate, and I can’t—”
“Fuck Corydon and his investigation,” Dona snapped, stepping right up to him and meeting his eyes in bold demand. “I want to know what you believe. Do you really think I’m capable of treason?”
He found he couldn’t lie to those eyes. “No. I don’t think you had anything to do with any of it.”
Tense muscles relaxed in her strong, feminine shoulders. “That’s all I needed to know.”
And as he watched, she turned and left the room.
Alerio turned to the combot. “New session.”
“Affirmative.”
He bared his teeth. “And keep the Ivar Terje image.”
Then he launched himself at the combot like a missile of pure, blazing rage.
Nick and Riane strolled out into the parking lot after the movie, as if they were an ordinary couple on an ordinary date. He had to admit, he thoroughly enjoyed the illusion.
“What an idiot,” Riane groaned, the combat beads of her braid clinking as she shook her head. “Why did Gray-son charge in alone like that? Any cop with the brains of a chio would have waited for backup.”
Nick looped an arm around her neck as they walked along together. “My mother had a very wise saying whenever I asked a question like that as a boy.”
“Yeah?” Riane lifted a red brow. “What?”
“ ‘It was in the script.’ ”
“Being stupid was in the script?”
“It was a very stupid script.”
As she laughed, he automatically scanned the parking lot. And felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. It was almost midnight, and the lot was virtually empty. “Let’s get to the car,” Nick said, tensing. “This is a really good place for an ambush.”
“You know,” Ivar Terje said from behind them, “that’s just what I was thinking.”
• 14 •
Something out of a horror movie was stalking Nick. The thing had three . . . arms? . . . that ended in a trio of tentacles tipped in claws. It moved on three muscled legs, its six faceted eyes focused on him with unnerving intensity. Its open mouth looked like something off a boxed set of Jaws—way too many triangular teeth and truly ugly intentions. Its skin gleamed dully black, iridescence rippling along its flesh like oil on inky water.
Nick retreated warily, moving into an easy, fluid stance. His mother had enrolled him in martial arts classes the minute he could walk; he’d long since stopped keeping track of which degree black belt he was. But he wasn’t at all confident he was up to taking on the thing with all the teeth. Not even with the Stone reinforcing his strength.
He shot a glance over at Riane. She had problems of her own—seven feet of brawny orange warrior who was moving stealthily toward her like a cat creeping up on a canary. Nick badly wanted to help her, but he didn’t dare divert his attention from Jabber Jaws.
To make matters worse, Ivar was hanging back, watching both of them with an expression of profound enjoyment. He’d be on them like a shark on sushi the minute one of them tried to help the other.
An indescribable hissing, clacking sound snapped Nick’s head around. Jabber Jaws leaped toward him like a misshapen flea, tentacles whipping.
“Fuck!” He ducked, spun, feeding the Stone’s power into his fists, his feet. His booted heel caught the thing in its . . . head? The end with the teeth anyway. Jabby hit the ground hard, flinging out its legs to stop its roll.
A tentacle whipped around his ankle with th
e speed of a striking rattlesnake. It snatched him off his bracing foot, yanked him through the air like a rag doll, and slammed him against the blacktop. The Stone’s power absorbed most of the fall’s force, but it still rattled his teeth. He rammed his free foot into the thing’s head, amping the kick with the Stone. Moving with blurring speed, he kicked it again. And again. The grip of the tentacle loosened, and he flipped onto his feet. Jabby lunged at him like a gator, teeth snapping.
Nick leaped back, slamming a fist down on the top of the thing’s head. A clawed tentacle raked his arm. Scarlet flew.
First blood to Jabby.
At the sight of that welling crimson slash, something dark stirred in Nick. A black and familiar rage, a craving for the release of violence and revenge. A craving that could only be sated by the death of his enemies.
He gritted his teeth and forced the darkness down. He didn’t want to lose it in front of Riane.
Riaat sang its deadly song in Riane’s blood, bringing a dark euphoria and insane strength that might not last long enough. Not against a Tevan warrior.
He was well over two meters tall, scaled and orange in bright red armor, claws tipping his big, seven-fingered hands. According to her sensors, his skeleton was reinforced with titanium laminate, while nanocybernetic muscle implants boosted his already considerable strength.
Mother Goddess, Riane thought grimly. Dad would have trouble with this fucker.
And if the Tevan was a match for a Viking Class Warlord, she wouldn’t have a prayer.
Shut up, Riane. I’ve got to take him, so I’ll by the Mother take him.
She threw herself toward the mercenary, clearing six feet in one leap. In the endless instant of her flight, her knives glittered in either hand as she watched his four yellow eyes narrow. He held blades as long as her forearms in those big, unhuman hands. If he caught her with one, he’d cut her in two.
She hit him like a missile. He parried one of her knives as she passed, blade clashing on blade before she could slice his throat. Riane saw his other knife swinging in a long, deadly arc, and twisted like an acrobat to avoid the attack. Felt the chill breeze of the swipe, saw the flash of the moonlight on metal. He spun and charged as she hit the ground behind him.
Riane ducked, whirling, slashing. One knife met his steel, but the other grated on armor and was deflected away. She saw the flash of his blade, jerked around to bring her own up. Too late. Cold stung its way across her belly, followed by a hot runnel of blood.
She leaped back—too late, too late, too . . . Saw an opening, bounced forward, slashing. Caught him! Violet blood splashed from the wound across his bearlike muzzle, and he roared in pain. Yellow eyes flared with battle madness as he struck out. She jolted away, avoided the knife by a whisker, slid in again, and leaped, slashing at those four eyes. He cursed her, ducked away from her attack, then stabbed straight in. Riane had grown too used to fighting in armor; she almost let him drive the blade into her belly. At the last instant she threw herself to safety, twisting, off-balance.
He kicked out, caught her in the side of the thigh, barely missing the knee he’d been aiming for. Her leg buckled under her. She went down hard.
The Tevan pounced, two hundred kilos of scales and armor plummeting toward her, both knives seeking targets in her torso. She flipped clear in a back-twisting convulsion of muscle and desperation. When he hit the ground, the boom of armor and reptile warrior striking pavement sounded like a shuttle wreck. One of his knives rammed into the blacktop. And lodged there, wedged deep by his alien strength.
He jerked it free, swearing, and turned on her. Riane surged desperately to her feet. Sucked in a gasp as her thigh almost collapsed under her. It didn’t hurt—it wouldn’t in riaat—but it definitely wasn’t working right.
“What’s wrong with my left leg?”
“Fractured femur. If not for your reinforced skeleton, the bone would have been crushed when he kicked you.”
Great. Just great. A leg injury in combat was the kind of thing that would get you killed.
The Tevan’s yellow eyes glittered, and she knew his sensors had detected the weakness. “Now,” he growled in a rumbling basso, baring an impressive array of teeth, “Now we finish it.”
Oh, fuck.
Nick and Jabber Jaws circled. The alien moved in an insectoid skitter, claws clicking and snapping eagerly, as if it couldn’t wait to sink them into his flesh.
Nick watched it warily, keeping his distance. How the hell did you fight something like this anyway? All those arms, all those claws.
All those teeth.
He wanted to kill it. He wanted to watch its blood fly . . .
Stop it, Nick. Just get it done and get out.
From the corner of one eye, he caught a blur of motion. Sensed a flare of grim fatalism as loud as a scream. Nick knew better than to take his eyes off an opponent, but he couldn’t help himself. He looked.
Riane backed away from the big orange lizard thing, which was chasing her, swinging his knife like a reptilian Iron Chef. She was bleeding from long gashes across her chest, her belly, her arms, thighs. Her teeth were set in her bloody face as she struggled to parry his flashing attacks. As she took another step backward, her left leg juddered under her, almost giving way before she caught herself.
Nick got no sense of pain from her, despite all the blood. Only fatalism and a grim determination to go down fighting. Oh, hell. That leg . . .
Pain slashed across his chest, a vicious ripping sensation tearing through skin and muscle. He jerked his head around again. Jabber Jaws! The damn thing was right on top of him, tentacles whipping, slicing at him with five-inch claws, teeth snapping.
Dammit, he didn’t have time for this. Riane was going down if he didn’t do something now.
So he let go. Let the bloodlust surge through him, filling him with the hot, vicious euphoria he’d been fighting to contain. He swung one fist in an explosion of force, connected with a deliciously meaty thump.
Jabby just snapped at him, damn near taking a chunk out of his arm. He jolted clear barely in time. Snarled. The bastard was just laughing off his punches.
Well, Jabby wouldn’t be laughing for long.
Nick sent his will whipping into the Stone, drew power in a furious stream. Struck out in a whirling roundhouse kick, all speed and brutal power, catching Jabby cleanly across the chest. The alien went flying like a football off a tee.
Nick whirled toward Riane, who was down on one knee now, cutting grimly at the reptile’s legs as he danced around her. Her knives glanced off the alien’s armor, rattling, raking, doing nothing. “Hang on, Riane! I’m coming.”
“I don’t think so, hero.” A redheaded mass of muscle and bone stepped into his path. There was a big-ass knife in Ivar’s hand, more sword than anything else. The cyborg grinned like a psychopath. “We’ve got other plans for your little friend.”
I definitely don’t have time for this. “Forget it, mother-fucker,” Nick snarled. “You’re not taking another woman away from me.”
A roiling stew of fury and frustration blasted into the Stone and out again in a white-hot surge. He struck out, a fist swinging in a brutal arc even as the other hand slashed forward. He hit the cyborg in the side of the head and grabbed Ivar’s knife hand. Crunched, twisted, wrenched. Ivar screamed, and Nick grinned in pure, feral pleasure. The cyborg dropped, leaving his knife in Nick’s hand.
As Riane parried blow after savage downward blow.
Nick forgot the cyborg. With a roar, he charged, his new knife a cool and satisfying weight.
The lizard wheeled, startled, knives whipping around. Not fast enough, not against Nick when the darkness was on him. He slid right past the reptile’s guard to drive his blade right in the middle of that armored chest. Metal grated, shrieked, and the armor cracked like an egg. Four yellow eyes widened, startled. Glazed as the big warrior dropped where he stood.
Nick felt the grin stretch across his face just as he met Riane’s astonished gaze. H
e wiped the grin away and caught her upper arm to haul her to her feet.
She fell against him. Concern instantly banished the last of his battle lust. “Can you walk?”
“My leg’s broken. Bastard kept hitting it when he saw I was injured. Shattered the damn thing.”
No time to heal her. He snatched her off her feet, slung her into a fireman’s carry, and ran toward the car.
Behind them, Ivar bellowed a curse. Claws skittered on pavement, coming closer. Dammit, it sounded like Jabby was right behind him. Nick ran faster.
“Thanks,” she gasped, bracing herself against his back as she hung upside down. “He had me. I was done. How did you drive that knife through his chest plate? My comp says the blade should have shattered before the armor did.”
When Nick was in the grip of his darkness, he could do all kinds of shit he shouldn’t be able to do. “I have no freaking idea.” He sent a wave of telekinetic force ahead of them, flinging the car’s doors open. “Watch your head.”
Nick ducked, slid her into the passenger side, then scrambled right over the hood, his boots thudding on the metal.
Jabby lunged up at him, snapping ferociously as he started to drop off the hood. He kicked out, catching the alien hard under the jaw, sending it flipping backward through the air.
“You fucking coward!” Ivar roared. He was on his feet again, though blood slicked the side of his face. He didn’t look steady on his feet as he ran after them.
“Yeah, yeah, kiss my ass, Benedict Arnold.” No time to fumble with the keys. Nick dove into the driver’s seat and slapped his palm over the ignition. A snap of power started the engine. He stomped his foot on the gas and sent the Beamer fishtailing toward the mall’s exit.
“Kavar’s Bleeding Balls!” Ivar snarled, wheeling back toward the van. “Grab the Tevan and get in the van.”
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