Deep Kiss of Winter

by Kresley Cole

  Hit. Hit. Hit.

  As the beams made contact, the Rakans were rendered immobile, aware of their surroundings but now unable to move. But most remained untouched, their comrades having acted as their shields.

  As though realizing what was happening, those men quickly gained their bearings and charged forward, successfully dodging the next round of rays.

  Aleaha blinked in shock. Never in all her twenty-six years had she seen anyone move so swiftly. They moved so swiftly, in fact, that they left some kind of ethereal, ghostly outline of themselves behind. Their spirits? Those outlines then had to play catch-up with the tangible bodies, which created a dizzying blur of movement, light, and shadow.

  “I’m down! I’m down!” someone cried. “Had the shit knocked out of me.”

  “I can’t fucking freeze them,” Devyn said. Odd. He had refused to bring a gun to this fight, the cocky bastard, so he wouldn’t have been able to freeze them anyway.

  After that, absolute chaos erupted. There were screams of pain, frantic footfalls, and humans collapsing. Aleaha pinched off a few more rounds. And, goddamn it, she missed every time.

  She never missed. People who lived on the streets often depended on their aim for survival. She’d taught herself to hit whatever she aimed at—no matter what she was doing or what was going on around her. This was unacceptable.

  Calm. Focus. She concentrated on the blurs as best she could, narrowing her eyes until she saw—

  Squeeze.

  This time, she hit a target dead-center. No, she realized a baffled moment later. She’d hit his spirit, that ghostly animation or whatever it was. Damn it! Unaffected, his body continued moving, darting from one place to another, felling one agent after another. And then, before her horrified gaze, the Rakans scattered in precise, measured increments. They weren’t running away, but were encircling the entire AIR team and lethally closing in.

  Caged, she thought. We’re being caged. Despite the direness of their circumstances, the agents continued to fight, and Aleaha was utterly proud of them. Blue stun-beams glowed throughout the enclosure, lighting up the snowy night with majestic fury.

  “Shit,” someone said. “What the hell should we do? I can’t see them anymore. I can’t fucking see them!”

  An agent ran over her, mowing right over her legs. No longer quite so proud, she popped to her feet, abandoning her cover in favor of protecting her limbs. Her knees knocked, but she managed to remain upright.

  “Keep firing,” Devyn commanded one and all. “Stay together, and for God’s sake, stay calm.”

  He sounded so close that she turned her head—and found him standing right beside her.

  “You okay, Lolli? You staying calm like I said?”

  If her emotions wouldn’t listen to her, perhaps they’d listen to him and calm. “Yeah.” At the moment, she wasn’t capable of saying more. Okay, so no. Her emotions wouldn’t be listening to him, either. Fear still held her in a tight clasp, growing as another agent fell just in front of her. Much more, and she might lose her hold on Macy’s image.

  Jaxon sidled up to her other side, firing two guns at once, each pointed in a different direction. His green eyes were eerie in the darkness. Eerie but calming. Just being near him was like finding shelter in the midst of a raging storm. Finally, blessedly.

  “Aim just ahead of the bodies,” he instructed. “Or rather, ahead of the lights. It’s the best way to lock on them.”

  Grunts, groans and screams filled her ears, louder by the second, distracting her. She pivoted and fired, pivoted and fired, trying to direct her beams in front of the blurs, just as Jaxon had said.

  To her consternation, she only managed to nail one of the warriors. How many were out there, damn it? They seemed to be multiplying like flies.

  “Help me!” an agent sobbed. “Please, help me.”

  Automatically, her gaze searched the night, the frenzied crowd. Before she found the beseeching male, one of the Rakans bypassed Aleaha’s protective wall of testosterone and slammed into her, shoving her to the ground. She landed flat on her back, suddenly breathless and experiencing a moment of terror and anger, helplessness and courage.

  As she raised her weapon to defend herself, she could feel her face and body beginning to change, the bones adjusting to accommodate a new form. No. No, no, no. When she changed involuntarily, she never knew who she would end up looking like.

  The alien with glowing golden eyes leaned down, not to strike her but to . . . kiss her? She struggled against him, and, yep, he opened his mouth to fit it over hers.

  “Woman,” he said, voice slightly slurred. “Mine.” Just before contact, an azure shower of sparks exploded around him, framing his large body and freezing him in place. Panting, instantly comforted, Aleaha crawled backward, forcing her image to conform once again to Macy’s.

  Jaxon held out a hand to help her up, and Aleaha prayed he hadn’t seen her mini-transformation.

  “Thanks,” she rasped, somehow finding her balance. She ripped off her headset and tossed it on the ground. No more distractions.

  “These guys are Rakan,” he said. “Don’t worry if you were dripped on.”

  Until that moment, she’d forgotten about possible contamination. Shit. Rakan or Schön, she was going to be more careful. The few times she’d been sick, she’d unknowingly transformed into an ailing identity. Each experience had taught her that it’s more fun to be stabbed than ill.

  “On my signal,” Jaxon told her, shooting around her, “I want you to run and lock yourself in one of the vans.”

  The vans, hidden as they were, would offer a reprieve from danger, injury and death.

  “No,” she said, surprising herself. She’d stay and she’d fight, even though the prospect terrified her. How could she live with herself if these men died and she’d done nothing to help? “I’m staying.”

  “Don’t argue,” Devyn snapped. “Women are always prettier when they agree.”

  Pig. “I need to stay.” She wouldn’t defile everything Macy had built with her own cowardice. “I have to sta— Ohmygod!” One of the aliens had just stepped into an agent. Stepped into. Like a demon intent on possession, the otherworlder’s body had entered the human’s, fusing them until only the human was visible.

  There was a tormented scream. The agent spasmed, shaking and quaking as he raised his own gun to his temple and fired. Brain tissue sprayed, obscene against the snow, and Aleaha gaped in horror.

  “Fuck,” snarled Dallas Gutierrez, Mia’s second in command, as he joined them. “They’re motherfucking soul jumpers.”

  Soul jumpers. She didn’t know what that meant exactly, and she didn’t want to find out. Her hands shook as she increased the speed of her shots.

  “I’ve controlled the energy of a Rakan before,” Devyn said, his voice strained. “But I can’t grasp on to a single energy molecule to control these guys.”

  “Unlike Eden, they weren’t raised on Earth. Maybe that’s the problem. But it doesn’t matter. Surely they’ll tire soon,” Jaxon replied. “That kind of speed has to drain them.”

  Aleaha lost the thread of the conversation. Energy molecule? Eden? All she knew was that a few more minutes passed and the aliens didn’t slow. Their unparalleled swiftness only seemed to increase, so much so that she had trouble fixing another target in her sights.

  “Shit.” Devyn slid a knife from his boot. “You were wrong, my friend, and we’re out of time. They’re coming for us next.” He slapped the hilt of the knife into Aleaha’s free hand, the silver tip gleaming in the moonlight. “Be ready, Lolli. Go for the jugular.”

  She gulped. The blade weighed less than her gun, but somehow felt all the more menacing. “O-okay.”

  Jaxon turned those eerie green eyes on her. “There’s still time to run.”

  Sixteen Rakans remained standing and they continued to close their circle, hopping over fallen agents. There might as well have been a thousand. Not long before she, Devyn, Dallas, and Jaxon— who held
the center of that circle—would be reached. But Jaxon was right. There was still time to escape. Not much, but enough.

  “No.” Determined, she shook her head. “I’m staying. We can win this.” If not, if AIR fell, she’d fall, too. For Macy. Aleaha owed the woman that much.

  She kept firing with one hand while gripping the hilt of the serrated knife with the other, trying to prepare herself for what she might have to do. She’d never used a knife on anyone but herself, and the thought of slicing into someone else’s flesh . . . You can do it. A cornered animal did anything necessary to ensure survival.

  Another agent placed a gun to his own temple and fired.

  Yeah, she could do it.

  “For all that’s holy, Lolli,” Devyn snapped. His hard tone of voice made her blink. Especially since he’d used it twice in one night and that was twice more than ever before. Where was his dry sense of humor? Where were his dirty jokes? “The knife was supposed to scare you, not empower you. Hit the vans so we don’t have to worry about you!”

  “Stop worrying and do your job!”

  “Go.” This from Dallas. “Run.”

  “No!” Even as she spoke, strong fingers of compulsion and agreement stabbed their way into her mind. Do what he says. Don’t argue with him. Run.

  Aleaha was almost into the woods, sidestepping the Rakans as Dallas distracted them, before she realized what she was doing. She stopped short and frowned. What . . . why?

  The answer hit her with the force of pyre-fire. Mind control.

  Which agent was responsible? Devyn, Jaxon or Dallas? Didn’t matter, she supposed, because they were all bastards. Somehow, someway, one of them had controlled her with a thought.

  Scowling, she whipped around. Trees stretched on both sides, so close she had only to reach out to hug their trunks. Their twisted, snow-heavy limbs shuttered her line of vision, so she brushed them aside.

  The sight she next drank in would haunt her for years to come.

  Most of the agents were lying on the ground, some writhing and groaning sounds of impending death. Others were motionless in the blood splattered snow. Dallas, Devyn, and Jaxon were slashes of white in that violent nighttime canvas, the tallest of the Rakans stalking the outer edge of the circle. Other Rakans took turns taunting them with punches and kicks, each expertly evading the pyre-fire launched at them.

  What can I do? What the hell can I do? “Stop,” she called, hoping the distraction would give her friends some kind of opening to . . . what? Take off? Attack? “Stop!”

  The stalking alien obeyed, stopping in a ray of moonlight, his gaze quickly finding her. Jolting her.

  Aleaha trembled in shock, another honey-scented breeze suddenly enveloping her. Arousing her. Kiss, she thought again. The man was utterly and absolutely breathtaking. A hedonistic god fallen straight to Earth. Sensual, exotic, with kohl-rimmed eyes of gold, a strong nose, a square chin, and chiseled . . . everything.

  He put Devyn to shame.

  What little of his skin was visible glowed like liquid rays of sunlight poured over hot steel. His hair hung to his jawline, the same golden shade as his skin. He was mesmerizing, unimaginable power and dark savagery blanketing his expression. And God, he was a predator, the knowledge banked in every line of his big body. Yet he was also a being so beautiful, he lured with only a look. Probably snared women before they could snap out of his spell.

  “Female,” he said, his voice as mesmerizing as his face. How did he know English? In fact, how had the other, the one who’d tried to molest her?

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Dallas said, breaking through the circle and punching him in the jaw.

  The Rakan’s head whipped to the side. Quickly finding Aleaha’s gaze again, he reached out, grabbed Dallas by the neck, and tossed him against a nearby tree. “Mine.”

  The force he used—amazing. The speed and agility—dumb-founding. Dallas slumped to the ground, unconscious. Jaxon roared, a wild sound, and attacked. The beast reached out yet again. This time, he slammed a ghostly hand inside the agent’s chest cavity and twisted.

  Jaxon crumpled and like Dallas, he didn’t get up. Devyn watched it all, a hard smile on his face. A smile that promised death. But he didn’t strike. No, he held up his hands in surrender.

  Aleaha could barely believe her eyes. That wasn’t like him. He’d rather be stabbed than lose a fight. Dear God. The situation must be grimmer than even she had realized.

  Instinctively, she backed up, halting only when she considered a new possibility. Maybe, hopefully, he had a plan. Maybe he was pretending to surrender while giving Mia and crew time to get here. Yes, of course. But why hadn’t help already arrived? They were supposed to swoop in if something like this happened, and close as they were, they should have been here by now.

  The tall golden alien strode toward her, shoving his own men aside. With every step, he appeared more indomitable. Deadly. Her heart drummed erratically in her chest as he came closer . . . closer.

  Do something! He was almost upon her. “Stop,” she shouted again. Good going. I’m sure he’ll obey. “Stay where you are.” If Mia needed more time, it was up to Aleaha to stall this man.

  Surprisingly, he stilled at the sound of her voice. Except for his eyes. Those trekked over her, hot and blistering, as if she were his property, already naked and begging for his touch. Goose bumps broke out over her skin; her mouth dried.

  “One more step, and I’ll shoot.” Trembling, she raised her gun until she had a direct shot at his groin. Men tended to agree to anything when their dicks were threatened. “Let’s talk about this. Maybe we can work something out. Why are you here? What do you want?” Come on, Mia.

  Slowly he grinned, silently promising that he’d do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Clearly there would be no chatting. Bastard. She squeezed the trigger. Just like the others had done, he darted away from the azure beam as if it were nothing more than a pesky insect.

  A second later, he was in front of her, appearing in the blink of an eye and towering over her. She gasped in surprise as heat radiated off him and enveloped her. Heat and that honey smell. Her nipples beaded again, reaching for him, and her stomach fluttered. The need for him to strip her, to slide inside of her, was potent, heady, part of her wanting to drop to her knees and beg him for it.

  Who are you? she wondered, dazed. In fact, the urges were so unlike her, common sense easily fought its way to the surface. Kill him. Now. End this! Mia had told them not to kill, yes, but Mia wasn’t here. At this rate, Aleaha would be dead before backup arrived.

  “I told you I’d shoot you, and I never lie.” Of course, that was a lie. Her entire life was a lie. This, however, she would do. “I mean it! Back away or I start firing.”

  He remained in place. “Shooting has not been favorable for you so far, has it?”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “I agree. Like the first time I disarm you.”

  Before she could act, he knocked the gun from her hand. It clattered to the ground, out of reach, and he purred silkily, all kinds of erotic in the undertones. “What do you plan to shoot me with, my female?”

  TWO

  INSTANT, SEARING AROUSAL. That’s what Breean Nu, now leader of the Rakan army, had experienced when he first heard the woman’s raspy voice drift through his fight-craze. When his gaze had landed on her, bathed in moonlight as she’d been, that arousal had only intensified and, foolishly, he’d lost sight of everything but her. Understandable, considering his past.

  He’d seen, and he’d wanted. Desperately.

  He’d whisked himself to her with every intention of claiming her as his own, for every warlord deserved a prize after a victory. He was a warlord, he had won, so she would be his prize. Even now, especially now, blood roared through him, hot, hungry. And not for more fighting. For every inch of her.

  “Mine,” he said again. The females of Raka had been decimated by plague after aliens began sneaking onto their planet several years ag
o. Those females had then begun to eat the men. Eat, as in meals. Having never encountered disease before, the Rakans had been at a loss, not knowing what to do or how to help. And then it had been too late. So many had died, hardly anyone had been left.

  Trembling, his prize jerked her wrist from his hold and backed away from him. One step, two. Oh, there would be none of that. Too much did he enjoy being near her.

  “Stop,” he said, as she’d said to him a moment ago.

  She raised her chin, stubborn, and kept moving. “Don’t think so.”

  A refusal? From a war prize? He’d never owned one before, only knew that other soldiers on other planets often kept them as slaves. And slaves were to do as they were told. He would just have to instruct her.

  Although, to be honest, Breean had never thought to find himself in this type of situation. He’d been a simple fisherman and Raka, as peaceful as the planet had been, had never had to utilize its royal army. Most citizens had obeyed the king without question, and otherworlders had never been allowed to enter their land. Until the Schön came in secret. Until the Schön destroyed them, infecting the women who then took out the soldiers and everyone else.

  At the time, Breean had been living on the seas that cover most of Raka, the sole provider for his mother and sisters. He’d returned one day to find them dying, and thousands of others already dead, for once the females had lost their food supply, they’d turned on each other. So he’d gathered what uninfected survivors he could and they’d started fighting back, driving the Schön away.

  The experience had changed them. They were not the innocent, naive men they’d once been. They were harder, meaner, utterly unforgiving. And that’s the way they had to stay.

  “I told you to stop, female.” There was no room for compromise in his tone. “You will obey. I am your master.”

  “How cute. The big boy thinks he’s in charge.” She whipped out another pyre-gun from the holster at her side. He’d never actually seen one until tonight, but he’d seen pictures and knew what to expect from them. In the other hand, she held a knife. With knives, he was already intimately acquainted. “Now back off.”