by Laney Kaye
I hunkered down on my rear legs, coiling all my power inside. I could easily cover fifty feet on a horizontal jump, but vertical was a damn sight harder. Vertical into a hail of bullets? Don’t even think about it.
As the drone pivoted, spraying bullets like a nightmare candy dispenser, I leapt, taking it down with a single swat. Ground it to a goddamn pulp beneath my paw as I landed on it with my full weight.
Smithton cowered into his cleft-rock. Spike groaned at my feet, using his teeth to drag free the dressing I’d dropped onto his flank. Leo, a Lionkin, and strongest next to me, had already bolted out to Khal, slung him over his shoulder and was high-tailing it back to our position.
And, fuck. The fiery burn unfurling through my thigh was far too familiar.
Chapter Two
Maya
W hen they called the code, my heart leapt against my ribcage.
I needed to calm myself. I hadn’t done anything. Yet. But I’d been about to.
Code Seven, my ear com squawked. Incoming. Medical Bay. Stat. The message repeated, as if they thought no one heard.
I had. Jeez, it jarred me so badly, I felt the words all the way to my bones. But then, I’d just crept inside a forbidden location. It was natural I’d be jumpy.
I hadn’t seen a Code Seven before. Only a Code Nine. Cardiac arrest. Something far too common in this wretched facility. And something I’d been secretly trying to prevent with my current activity.
Considering I’d only been a nurse here for three weeks, I’d probably take part in all the codes before I achieved what I’d come to do.
Leaning my shoulder against the shining sirdar wall, I grabbed my name badge. Maya. I flipped it over, squinting at the colored list on the back to see what Code Seven stood for. My eyes stalled at Code Three, Out-of-Control Insurgent. Avoiding a Code Three was my reason for being in this hallway in the first place. Now, with me pulled away, who knew what trouble my sister would get into. She was in a cell somewhere down here, no doubt praying I’d help break her out of this hellhole.
Code Seven. Wounded Non-Resident. Non-Resident. Did that mean “alien”? My pulse skipped a beat. I’d thought . . . okay, I’d thought the Regime hiring aliens was just a big rumor.
I mean, everyone had heard about the mercenary teams they’d contracted from another planet to hunt down and either exterminate or capture the pockets of Resistance fighters hiding out in the surrounding desert.
But these guys weren’t true aliens, were they?
Sure, there had been some contact via radio waves with the beings living on the only viable planet orbiting my home world of Glia. We’d all heard the news about how the government usurpers had sent an emissary ship to Aaidar to establish good relations.
Other than Aaidar and our moons, we had two planets nearby, Media and Harang. They were both barren wastelands now that the Regime had exhausted their resources and moved here, leaving behind worlds that were unfit for anything other than radiation-eating tilards and the rare swamp slag.
A few Glians had whispered that these…men were shifters. Dogs or cats or honey badgers, for all I knew. As if anyone believed something like that. Yes, they might be different than a Glian, with an oddly shaped head or four arms rather than two, but they couldn’t be real shifters, right?
Perhaps I’d find out soon.
I’d have to respond to the code, which meant I’d have to return here another time. Maybe I could sneak out of my quarters late tonight, after everyone else was asleep.
Acting casual, I walked to the locked door that led out into the main part of the building. If anyone was looking, I needed to appear like I belonged here.
Anxiety tightening my throat, I swallowed as I entered the code someone had died to obtain into the panel to the right of the door. A swipe of my badge would’ve unlocked it, but badge swipes were monitored. And no one could know I’d been here.
If they examined the tech records later, the intruder could be anyone.
A crushing sensation filled my chest, because I had to leave my task behind. Who knew how much longer my sister would hold out, especially if she felt rescue would never come? They tortured my friends in those dark rooms beyond this hall. My sister, too.
Leaving through the side door that exited into the main compound, I peered around. No one nearby. Everyone must’ve gathered at the transport hub, waiting for the ‘Non-Resident’ arrivals.
Even though the Resistance had scrambled the cameras so I could sneak into the building where my sister and friends were being held, I still needed to be careful. If caught, I could make up an excuse, but it was a common knowledge that Commander Smithton did not offer medical care to the rebels. My presence in this building would be questioned.
Skirting around the back of three more buildings, I arrived at the small one housing our medical facility. Not much of a medical facility, actually, just three doctors, six nurses, various supplies, and a long hall of sound-proofed bays where we treated the wounded.
“Ah, there you are, Maya,” Janie said when I hurried inside and arrived at the central nurse’s station. “Tina’s already waiting in one of the rooms. Three wounded in-coming. They should be here any time, now.”
“What have you heard so far, Doctor?” I wanted to ask, ‘am I about to treat a freakin’ alien?’ but it was best to appear in full control. Yes, my past medical experience had landed me this job, but my most recent activity would see me fired. Or worse. No one could be trusted, and I refused to draw suspicion.
Janie smoothed her dark blue scrub top down over her wide hips. “They’re mercenaries.”
Of course, I knew that already. Their profession wasn’t what I’d been asking about.
I couldn’t help it. I leaned close to her and whispered, “Do you think…it’s true?” Meaning the shifter component, not just the fact that they’d come from another planet.
“All of it’s true.” She scanned the area to make sure we were alone, but still kept her voice low. “Aliens. They look mostly like us, except they’re a heck-of-a-lot taller.”
At five-foot-two, I was below average for a Glian woman. Our men were slightly taller than that, but it was rare to find one over five-eight. Ongoing extermination from the Regime had decimated our numbers, and years of weather disruption and famine had stunted the growth of those strong enough to survive.
“What else?” I said softly. Not only did I have to take care of these non-resident—aliens—I was also curious.
Janie’s lavender eyes lit, and her smile accented her high cheekbones. She smoothed her thick silver hair. “I've heard they're all gorgeous. Muscular builds. And…”
My heart sped up, and I leaned even closer. “And…?”
Her hand waved down the front of her body, pausing below her waist. “They're enormous everywhere.”
Blinking, I reeled back. Well. Okay. I didn't really need to know that detail. After all, I wasn't going to be caring for that part of their bodies.
A thrill went through me regardless, though, because…sure, it was intriguing.
But I couldn’t afford to even let my mind go there. I had one goal here: to locate my sister and any other surviving rebels, and get them out before the government killed them.
Romance—and big dicks, for that matter—could hold off for some other time in my life. Assuming such time ever arrived, which was doubtful. For years, we’d barely eked out an existence. My current residence here might be a plush room with a bed, but before that, I’d lived in a cave. Shared with two other women. The Resistance had risen up, only to be driven deep underground by the government. In the intricate cave system where we’d sought refuge, it was a challenge just to get some oral—talking that is—let alone find a quiet place for anything further.
Tina appeared in the corridor, putting on rubber gloves. Her curly brown hair bobbed as she nodded enthusiastically, obviously listening in on our conversation. Try as I might, I couldn’t warm to her, even though she was close to my own age, unlike Janie,
who was probably ten years older. The fact that Tina always seemed too eager to please our Commanding Officer made me shiver. I couldn’t understand what she saw in the jerk.
Still, Tina was probably acting smart. No point alienating the man in charge.
The entrance doors swept open, and medics rushed in with three stretchers.
The twinkle abruptly left Janie’s eyes as she became our doctor, switching immediately to all business. “The first three rooms, please,” she called out and lifted her voice. “Tina, take room three. Maya—” her attention fell on me, “you take room one, and I’ll triage two.”
I nodded and strode into the room as they pushed the stretcher in behind me. While I donned medical gloves—who knew what kind of blood these creatures had—I studied the man I’d been assigned.
Large, muscular build? Check.
Gorgeous? Check.
Unusually large male bits? The verdict was still out on that one.
“He’s a liger,” the medic said as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around the man’s upper arm. The guy was so well-built, the cuff barely fit. We’d need an extra-large cuff.
Wait. Liger? As if I’d know what that meant? Frowning, I studied my patient’s face. He looked like any other person I'd find on Glia, in that he had two eyes, a nose, a chiseled jawline, and a full, sensual mouth. So, the chiseled jawline and sensual mouth might not be the norm for Glia. Not in my limited experience, anyway.
“What does liger mean?” I asked the medic.
“Some sort of lion. Or a tiger. Maybe a combination of both? Not sure.” His dark eyebrows rose, and his mouth twisted. “Since all the great cats are long dead here, I’m not sure it really matters. Heard he's the alpha. I think the other wounded guys are a jaguar and a cheetah.”
Cats, then. So much for those honey badgers.
I shook my head to re-center myself. Right now, this man didn’t need speculation about his genetic makeup. He needed help, and I was going to give it.
After slicing the sleeves of his uniform off, I cut down the side and shoved the material apart.
Wow. Interesting markings. An intricate, yet almost primitive design—tribal-appearing. It swirled around from his back and across his left shoulder, leading to a lion. The lion almost appeared to snarl—a symbol of raw power, courage, loyalty. The design looked like a tattoo only…deeper. As if it had emerged from inside him, rather than been inked on his skin. Cool. And sexy, even if I’d only admit the latter to myself. I was tempted to trace my fingers along the lion. Follow the pattern across his chest. But I dragged my brain back to what I was doing instead.
After applying cardiac monitoring pads to my patient’s broad, smooth chest, I asked, “Where is he injured?” As far as I could tell, he was in prime form. Too prime for my heart rate, which now jumped faster than his on the monitor.
Why did he appear unconscious? With his eyes closed, he almost looked asleep.
“One of the unwounded guys said they go into some kind of state at times like this. To regenerate.” The medic’s brow furrowed as he stared down at the wounded man. “I guess they can sorta heal themselves?”
I sighed. “Then why bring them here?” If he didn't need medical attention, I could get back to my original plan.
“C.O.'s orders. He said you needed to check him out. Do full lab work while you have the chance. He wants a complete panel.” His frown deepened. “The mercenaries have refused to let anyone tap their blood so far.”
That was odd. Not that the C.O. wanted blood. That asshole was creepier, and a hell of a lot sneakier, than a desert sandworm. But it was weird that these shifters refused to let anyone take a sample. Our government must be eager to run a full barrage of tests on someone from another planet. See how truly different these aliens were.
“Wound’s on his thigh,” the medic said as he pulled back the light sheet covering the man. Even clothed, blood seeped through the fabric. Dark red, like mine. Maybe these aliens weren't so different from us, after all.
“I need those pants out of the way,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t know if I should.”
I cocked my head at him. “Why not?”
“He was pretty adamant about getting dressed before we brought him in.”
I blinked and studied the man lying on the stretcher again. He lay as still as death, but he was breathing. “Are you suggesting he stopped for a wardrobe change during a military conflict?”
“No. He was naked.”
My puzzlement must have shown on my face.
“After shifting,” the medic added.
At confirmation of that idea, I leaned forward eagerly. “Did you see it?”
“His junk? Nope.” He rocked on his heels. “Wouldn’t have looked anyway. In case you were wonderin’.”
I hadn’t been wondering. “Why was he naked, then?”
“Heard he’d shifted with his clothes on. Saw them shredded, lying on the ground. C.O. said they carry a bag of spares everywhere, like damn beauty pageant queens. His words, not mine.” He grunted. “Suppose he could wear one of them cloth things to cover up the vital parts so he could ditch it and shift fast, but he’d probably look like a dude—” He made air quotes. “Liger, that is—wearing a diaper.”
Not a good look on any man. But naked? Hmm…
“But, since you’re the boss, and you say I’ve gotta do it, I’ll cut ‘em off. You can deal with the dude later if he’s pissed off about it.” He grabbed the shears and started at the ankle, moving up the side. In no time, he'd exposed the wound.
Ah. Laser fire. I placed my hands on my hips. Lasers were effective but didn’t have decent range, so the Resistance rarely used them. One of the teams must’ve gotten close to these mercenaries. I guessed they’d used our drones to find the mercs position. Without our drones, the government would've exterminated us already.
I stared down while biting my lower lip. How best to handle this? “I'll need some saline and gauze to clean the wound.” I waved to the cabinets on the far wall while I dragged a steel table closer to the stretcher and then lowered the side rail. “And grab some wound-seal while you're at it. It’s in the red box, labeled as such.” After I cleansed the wound, I could apply the sealant to stem further bleeding. This man was hurt, but it wasn’t bad. He’d heal, even without regeneration. Whatever that was.
The medic dropped the items on the table. “I've got to head back out there. They said there could be more injured. You okay alone?” His concerned gaze slid down my face, not stopping until they passed the low neckline of my scrub top and found my breasts. His thin lips quirked up on one side.
Don’t even go there, buddy.
I wanted to tug my neckline higher. Damn Commander Smithton for insisting we be attractive at all times, instead of useful. I couldn't wait to peel off this uniform once my mission was completed.
“Anyway, I’ll see ya around?” the medic asked. His gaze slithered down the rest of my body, and he licked his lips.
Ugh. I shuddered. Hopefully not.
I waved and he left. Unless he was willing to lend medical assistance only, I didn’t want him here any longer. He could go leer at someone else. Like, a rock, for all I cared.
Besides, I felt confident I could handle this “big” boy all by myself.
After peeling off my gloves, I poured some saline into a basin and opened the packages of gauze and dropped them in to soak up the liquid. I put on new gloves, wrung out a piece of gauze, and approached the stretcher.
Dabbing carefully around the wound, I sensed a change in the man I worked on. His breath caught, and his body tightened underneath my fingers.
Oh, was he waking up?
The wound still remained the same. So much for all that regeneration crap. Maybe the shifter stuff was a rumor too and not based on actual fact. If I took a job on a distant planet and wanted to come across as deadly, I might dream up a story like that, too.
Alien shifter, my ass.
My slow chuckle emerged.
If only I’d been there when the idea of them being shifters was presented to the C.O. Must’ve put the fear of death into him. Since he advocated torture, I hoped he’d find death, not just the fear of it.
As my eyes skimmed the man’s groin, covered with his bunched-up clothing, I had to admit, if only to myself, I was a bit disappointed that this rumor could be false.
Tawny was the best way to describe him, with his deep tan enhancing thick, sun-streaked hair. My breath caught as I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes, which had opened. Other than ink-black pupils, they were completely golden. No whites.
Just like a great cat who wanted to eat me.
No, wait. He looked like a man who wanted to thrust me down onto the stretcher and eat me.
Heat pooled between my legs, and I grumbled. Yes, I’d been through a dry spell lately. Okay, a long dry spell, but this was not the right time. He was a patient. I was his nurse. There was nothing remotely sexual about this encounter.
But I knew right then in my heart that this man was a lion-tiger shifter.
Dragging my attention back to my task, I dabbed at the wound.
Faster than I could blink, he half-rose off the stretcher and grabbed my forearm, stilling my motion.
His sharp gasp cut through the room as a jolt of electricity shot through me.
What the…?
My spine tingled. I staggered.
He stared at me with a mixture of amazement and confusion overtaking his face.
Deep below my belly, I throbbed. Like this man had reached inside and stroked me. With his fingers. His mouth. His— No. This…this couldn’t be happening. No guy could make me ache to be with him with just a simple touch.
Yet his hand on my arm continued to send sparks through me.
I wanted to rip off my clothing and let him do whatever he wanted with me.
Fire shot through me again, as if we connecting on some primal level.
