The Alien Huntress Series

by Gena Showalter

  “You were told wrong. He didn’t scare the otherworlder away. I did.”

  Estap sputtered, having clearly been in the middle of a drink. He coughed, clearing his throat. “You? Why?”

  “To prevent a public brawl. Sir.”

  “My agents could have prevented a brawl,” he said tightly. “You had other things to do.” An irritated sigh followed the words. “Did you learn anything during your brief conversation?”

  As if he didn’t already know. One of his agents had to have been recording the entire exchange. “He calls himself Nolan, and he’s intrigued by love. He claims he doesn’t like what his brethren are doing, and he’ll contact me soon with a way to stop them.”

  “I doubt he’ll return to the bar.”

  “No. He won’t.” She was positive about that. Nolan wasn’t stupid. He had to know that conversation would not be next on the agenda. Capture would. Estap’s men were probably working on a way to neutralize the dematerializing process even now, locking the otherworlder in place. “Was Nolan spotted outside the bar after he disappeared?”

  “No. He vanished from our scanners completely, as if he’d dissolved into another dimension rather than a wall.”

  Another dimension? “Is that a realistic possibility?” Hell, anything was possible in this new world, she supposed.

  “We’re looking into it.”

  Which broke down to, You do not have clearance for that type of information. She rolled her eyes. “My next move?”

  “I’m going to think, confer with my colleagues, and will have new orders for you in the morning.”

  What, no punishment? No further chastisement? She dared not hope.

  “Have you learned anything else from the agent?” Estap asked.

  No, she dared not hope. Her shoulders sagged. “Only that the toxin is passed from Schön to human through bodily fluids.”

  “As we suspected. We found something in Nolan’s saliva. The glass that was brought into the lab, well, the other-worlder’s spit was so acidic it had already eaten through the rim. Opened the door to a thousand more questions. Like why the saliva hadn’t burned the victims.” A crackling pause. “You’ve tried everything in your power to persuade Jaxon to talk?”

  Had she screwed him? That’s what he really wanted to know. Bastard, she thought again. “Yes,” she lied. “I don’t think he knows anything else.”

  “Very well. We have no more use for him, and he’s well enough to return to his home.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip, his implication clear. This is what I should want for Jaxon, but I’m not ready to let him go. The dread, terror, and resolve she’d experienced earlier returned full force, causing her legs to shake and her heart to drum erratically. Cool, calm, uncaring, she reminded herself. Showing emotion to this man was like placing a weapon in his hand and standing still while he aimed.

  “I’ll make sure he’s ready.” The words were firm, unwavering.

  “Two of my men will arrive at seven a.m. You’ll turn the agent over to them and then come to me.”

  “Of course.”

  “As close proximity as you were in with the Schön, I’ll want a full medical workup on you.”

  Probes, monitors, needles. “Of course,” she repeated, proud of herself.

  “Until morning, then. Oh, and Le’Ace. We spotted something disturbing while you were inside the bar. My agents were able to photograph it.”

  Had she missed something? “Sir?”

  “It’s impossible for me to explain. I’ll download the image to your chip and we can discuss it tomorrow when you arrive. I know that downloading is painful for you, and it distorts your reality, but I know you’ll find it worth it this time. As you’re looking at it, you might try and remember that he’s expendable. You’re not.”

  With that, their connection severed.

  Her arm fell to her side, the nearly weightless phone suddenly obscenely heavy. As if Estap cared about her at all. And there at the end, his tone had been a little too smug, a little too amused. Her dread intensified.

  A moment later, a warm tingle rushed through her brain and heated her scalp. Her vision blurred, sharp claws scratching at her hair, her skull. She swayed, reached out, and tried to balance herself against the wall. Nausea churned in her stomach. One wrong move, and everything inside would spill out.

  She stilled and waited.

  The holophoto flashed front and center in her mind, consuming the entirety of her focus. The pain in her head eased, and she gasped. Her knees buckled. She hit the floor with a whoosh. The bathroom mutated into the club, tiled walls became painted metal. Drinking patrons were dancing and laughing around her. Smoke billowed.

  She saw herself, the photo obviously taken seconds after she’d spotted Jaxon in the club’s doorway. Her lips were parted, her skin flushed to a deep rose. Her nipples were hard and peeking through her shirt, and her hand was flattened on her stomach, as if trying to calm a fit of nerves. Or arousal.

  But it was her eyes that drew her attention. Oh, her eyes. Absolute longing glittered in their depths, so much longing it was almost painful to see.

  She knew beyond any doubt that the photo was a warning. He’s expendable. You’re not. Obviously Estap knew she cared about Jaxon. There was no hiding it, not after this photo.

  If she messed up again, Jaxon would die.

  Though he wanted to storm the bathroom, Jaxon waited on the bed. He expected Mishka to emerge angry, to stomp around a bit, maybe yell in frustration. He was prepared to soothe her, hold her, listen, and give her anything she needed.

  When the door creaked open twenty minutes later and she strolled out calm, unemotional, his brow puckered in confusion. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine.” She didn’t look at him, even when she stopped at the dresser and lifted one of her knives from the first drawer. “Why don’t you go back to your room and get some rest? I could use some myself.”

  So cold. So distant. So uncaring.

  He didn’t like it.

  Watching her intently, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. Having sat still for so long, his muscles had tightened; they refused to loosen and throbbed even after he stilled again. “Does that weapon have a name?”

  “No.”

  “So you lied about naming them?”

  “Marie names her weapons. I don’t.”

  And they were different. Marie was cold, Mishka was burning hot. He would never confuse the two again. “What did your boss say to you?”

  A heavy pause, a slight tensing. Then, “He reminded me of my objective.”

  When she said no more, he prompted, “And that is?”

  “To do what I’m told, when I’m told. Anything else will just destroy me, little by little.” As she spoke, she lifted a rag and began polishing the blade. Her motions were smooth and practiced.

  “That’s no kind of life, Mishka.”

  Her shoulder blades rolled together as she tensed. “I prefer Le’Ace.”

  “No, you don’t,” he snapped, furious with her total lack of sentiment. She’d gone into the bathroom a human, with all the emotions and frailties involved, but she’d emerged an android. Callous. He much preferred the vulnerable woman.

  What he wouldn’t have given for a knife, her boss, and five minutes in a room. Cutting out the fucker’s organs and forcing him to eat every dripping piece might, might—appease this growing sense of hatred.

  “You don’t know me. Don’t pretend you know what I do and do not want.”

  “I’ve had my fingers inside of you. I’d say I know you well enough.”

  At that, she stopped breathing. Her fingers clenched so tightly around the weapon’s handle, the metal under that black glove could have cracked. Then, a moment later, she returned to her task, concentrating so profoundly he realized she might be using the action as a survival mechanism. An ordinary action to soothe a raging mind.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked him, dista
nt again. “Hugs? Kisses? Love?” She snorted. “I’m incapable of the last.”

  His gaze raked over her. The dress she wore barely covered the sweet curve of her ass. An ass he’d balanced on his lap, an ass he’d kneaded. She’d moaned and writhed, lost in the pleasure. “I seriously doubt that.”

  “You need to leave.” Over and over her hands continued to slide along the blade. Her gaze never wavered from it. “Now.”

  That concentration, no matter the reason for it, would not help her. “Come over here and make me.”

  “Jaxon.”

  “Scared?” Any other woman he would have left alone. Why couldn’t he walk away from Mishka?

  “This is a dangerous game to play.”

  “Ask me if I care.”

  Finally she whipped around, eyes narrowed, knife hanging at her side but pointing toward him.

  Mission accomplished. Concentration broken.

  She bared her teeth in a scowl. “You do not want to mess with me right now. I can make your last beating seem like a massage.”

  Don’t smile. “Prove it.”

  He heard grinding and knew she was gnashing her molars. Slowly she raised the knife. She turned the tip away from him, however, and slashed the top of her glove. The black material floated to the floor, leaving her silver skin visible.

  “You want me to be human, therefore you fool yourself into thinking I am. But I’m not. Not really.”

  “A metal arm does not a machine make.”

  “That’s not the only part of me that is machine.”

  “What else?”

  A frustrated grunt slipped from her pursed lips. “Look. Does it really matter? I’ve killed animals. I’ve killed women. I’ve killed children. I’ve been gentle with you so far and haven’t crushed you as I’m fully capable of doing. One flick of this metal wrist, however, and I can snap your neck.”

  He knew he treaded on dangerous ground, but that didn’t stop him. “You don’t want to snap my neck,” he said. “You want to kiss it. You want to kiss and suck me and that scares you.”

  Her jaw dropped. Her gaze slid between his legs, clearly searching for an erection. When she saw that he was indeed hard, she gulped. “You have three seconds to leave this room, Jaxon.”

  “One. Two. Three,” he supplied helpfully.

  Rather than her anger being roused another degree, a tormented curtain fell over her features. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  His chest constricted painfully. He’d wanted emotion, and here it was. He just hadn’t expected it to slap him upside the head. She’d lived a terrible life, had done horrible things. He wanted the pain gone; he wanted pleasure to take its place.

  He didn’t know how this woman had sunk under his skin, but she had. He hated seeing her like this almost as much as he hated seeing her unemotional.

  “Why?” she insisted.

  “I don’t like seeing you upset,” he said, opting for honesty.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, stop. Please.”

  The only other time she’d said the word please and meant it was during their kiss, when she’d desired more from him. He opened his mouth to say something. What, he didn’t know. There was a blur of moment, and then Le’Ace was pushing him to his back and straddling his chest, her knife at his throat, cold and menacing. Automatically the mattress widened, adjusting to their weight and length.

  “I told you this isn’t a game,” she growled.

  “No, you told me it was a dangerous game.”

  “Whatever! This is life and death. They’re separating us tomorrow, all right? We will not see each other again.”

  His eyes narrowed menacingly. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “No one but us can decide that,” he growled as he gripped her thighs.

  “Someone can and he did.”

  “No, the fuck he didn’t. He won’t.”

  She didn’t say another word, yet she radiated such grim determination that she didn’t need to speak. The thought of being without her, the thought of never seeing her again ignited a dark thunderstorm of emotion inside him. Fury rained the hardest.

  “You’re going to obey blindly, without hesitation? You’re going to let this man dictate your life?”

  Her eyes lost all hint of gold, going pure emerald as they beseeched him to understand. “If I don’t, I die. You know that. I wasn’t lying about the computer chip in my brain.”

  He refused to give up and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Why does he want to separate us?”

  “I didn’t do my job. Therefore, I’m off the case.”

  A moment passed. This could be a manipulation on her part to finally get him to talk. In that instant, however, he couldn’t have been less concerned. Hell. No. They weren’t keeping him from Mishka. He would see her again.

  “You need to know what I know about the Schön? Fine. I’ll tell you.”

  Eyes widening, she shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t say another word. Whatever you say to me, I will repeat, and I hate my boss so fucking much right now I want to fail.”

  He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. “The Schön can smell when a woman is fertile.” He settled his palm on her thigh again, the heat of her skin like a brand. “I asked about your period earlier because fertility is what they crave, what they need.”

  A shallow breath emerged from her. “Stop. Just stop.”

  “Stop talking or touching?”

  “B-both?”

  A question when she’d meant it as a statement. So telling. He almost smiled. Her feminine core was positioned in the middle of his chest. When he slid his fingers to the edge of her panties, she moaned. A bead of moisture wetted his shirt.

  Shit. He moaned.

  “They don’t want halfling children,” he said.

  “Halflings aren’t even possible.” She spread her knees wider in invitation. “Our scientists have tried. Only reason I’m possible is becasue I’m a machine.”

  He wouldn’t take her over the edge. Not yet. No fast, easy orgasm for her this time. They were both going to work for it. Otherwise, she’d walk away from him afterward, emotionless mask back in place. He knew it, felt it. So he clasped her hips, fingers digging in and holding steady.

  “Our scientists failed, but other species’ scientists have not. Halflings are possible.” Mia was proof of that, though only a rare few knew it. “But like I said, I seriously doubt that’s what the Schön are after. I don’t think they care about the babies they create at all.”

  “Then what?” Mishka wiggled on him, rubbing her clit against his sternum. Her head fell back, hair tickling his stomach. Her lips parted on a blissful sigh.

  He squeezed her waist until she stilled. God, his blood was burning his veins, turning everything to ash. His erection throbbed, desperate for a single touch. A stroke.

  “What I learned through the women is that the Schön can’t experience orgasm unless there’s an egg to receive their seed. That’s why they keep the women for several days if conception doesn’t happen right away. There’s still a possibility of it, which means they can still experience orgasm.”

  Her brows arched into her hairline, curiosity blending with the rosy glow of her arousal. “All this, infecting human females, killing them, for sex?”

  “I think. Could be more to it, but that’s all I’ve found out so far.” Sweat trickled from his temples and onto the pillow below him. “Every infected woman I’ve killed has been pregnant.” He hated himself for every death, too. So needless. Don’t think about that. Not here, not now.

  Mishka didn’t judge his actions, his despicable admission not even fazing her. “Why keep this to yourself? Why not tell us right away? Measures can be taken. Birth control hormones in the city’s food supplies, warn women not to sleep with anyone resembling a Schön, things like that. So I ask again. Why?”

  “Because—”

  “Why!” As he hesitated again, she pressed the blade d
eep and leaned into him. Their noses touched, her sweet breath caressing his cheeks.

  “Because.” Just say it, put it out there. “One, you saw the women in the bar. Once they see a Schön in person, they only care about fucking him. Two, I said that Schön could only come with a fertile female. I said nothing about infected females being unable to spread the disease on their own.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had to kill an infected male. Husband of one of the victims. No one knows, but he bore all the beginning signs. Sunken eyes, graying skin.”

  Mishka’s lids closed, blocking him.

  Jaxon continued. “Lastly, I don’t think the disease can be stopped. I think it’s going to spread. And spread. And I doubt there’s anything we can do about it.”

  Slowly her eyelids opened, and hope stared down at him. “Why do you think that? Surely there’s something we can do.”

  “Ever played dominos?”

  “No, but I know what they are.”

  “Think of every citizen on Earth as a domino. We’re all lined up. Some have already fallen and they’re quickly knocking others down. They, in turn, knock others.” He paused. “One of the women I killed looked human, but she wasn’t. She’d actually come with a group of men from Raka, a planet the same infection had just destroyed. Nearly every citizen had already fallen. One by one. The more they tried to stop it, the faster it spread. I think…I think our downfall has only just begun.”

  “I don’t know what to say to that. I need to think.” Mishka’s blade eased from his neck. She frowned. Tried to move away from him.

  He grabbed her neck and rolled, pinning her underneath him. “There’s nothing we can do about it right now. Think later.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Le’Ace peered up at Jaxon. “We’re not doing this,” she said flatly. Inside, though, she trembled with eagerness. She ached. She desired. But she was too cowardly to allow herself to have it. Physical pain she knew how to handle. Pleasure? Not so much. The aftereffects were too difficult to deal with.

  Fire blazed in his silvery eyes, liquefying the irises and making them swirl with longing. “We’re not doing what?” His hands anchored beside her temples, enveloping her in a hard embrace.