Blade's Edge

by Val Roberts

  She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Right. Go ahead and believe that and I won't mention all of the work, stress and frustration ahead of us."

  "I don't care about that, because we can do it together."

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  About the Author

  To learn more about Val Roberts, please visit valroberts.wordpress.com/. Send an email to valmroberts@gmail.com.

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  Old hatreds die hard. Old love dies harder.

  Silent Blade

  © 2009 Ilona Andrews

  On Meli Galdes’ home planet, the struggle for power is a bloody, full-contact sport—in business and on the battlefield. For years her lethal skills have been a valuable asset in advancing her family's interests. She's more than earned her right to retire, but her kinsmen have one last favor to ask.

  Kill the man who ruined her life.

  Celino Carvanna's razor-sharp business acumen—and skills with a blade—won him the freedom to do as he pleases. There's only one thing he can't seem to control—his reaction to the mysterious woman who tantalizes his senses. Her eyes alone set his blood simmering, stirring ridiculous adolescent fantasies about breasts and honey. With a few words she dissects his soul. Who is she? And how does she slide so easily under his well-guarded skin?

  It's almost too easy to draw Celino within the kill zone. Meli plans to revel in him. Drink him in. Wring every drop of pleasure out of every moment.

  And when she's sure he belongs to her, she will finally repay a decade's worth of pain—in a single, brutal dose of reality.

  Warning: Contains a heroine who excels in moving targets, a hero who can't get into her pants fast enough, and implant-enhanced sex (no, not that kind of implant ... ).

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Silent Blade:

  The file lay on her lap, downloaded into her notebook. She had read it, committing every word to memory. She had printed Celino's photograph. His face was a glossy smoothness underneath her fingertips.

  She moved her hand and looked down on the god of her adolescence. He hadn't changed as much as she expected. The years had sharpened his face, honing his features with a lethal precision. A perfectly carved square jaw. A crisply defined nose with a small bump. His cheekbones protruded, the cheeks beneath them hollowed, making the contours of his face more pronounced. His eyebrows, two thick black lines, combined with the stubborn set of his wide, narrow-lipped mouth, gave his face a grim, menacing air. But it was the eyes that elevated his appearance from merely harsh to dangerous.

  Dark grey, they matched the fabled bluish steel of Ravager firearms. Perceptive, powerful, they betrayed an intellect sharp enough to draw blood but revealed no emotion. Not even a minute glimpse of his inner self. She vividly remembered staring into their depths, trying to gauge what he felt for her, if anything, and finding only a hard opaque wall.

  Every time she looked into those eyes, a jolt of adrenaline tore through her.

  Meli forced herself to look at him again, trying to separate herself from the adolescent flutter of her pulse. That flutter, the slight pain in her chest, the rapid chill, all that was but a bitter memory of a little foolish girl, hardly more than a child. Her little foolish hopes and dreams had long turned to dust.

  She had to evaluate him for what he was—a target.

  In her mind a younger Celino sprang from her memories: handsome, tall, with a lazy, self-indulgent smile, standing on a verandah with a short blade in his hand, inviting the party guests to throw polymer drink cans at him. He was barely seventeen then. He looked incredible poised against the backdrop of the flower beds that gave the province of Dahlia its name. As a barrage of the multicolored containers hit him, he sliced at them in a blur, severing them with his blade. When he was done, the tile around him was drenched. Celino, on the other hand, remained perfectly dry.

  Carvannas had a reputation for their knife skills, superb even among the kinsmen.

  The man who looked at her from the photograph now wouldn't show off. Tempered by a decade and a half in the kinsmen family feuds, he would watch, calculating the odds, until the right moment came, and then he would seize it without hesitation and squeeze out every advantage. He had survived four known assassination attempts and likely a dozen or more that remained secret. She tapped the notebook screen, calling up the only recorded attempt. She had viewed it twice already.

  The premiere of Gigolo. A brightly lit street. Red carpet stretching into the mouth of Miranda Theater. Adoring crowds shouting their worship at the stars and their escorts.

  A sleek, bullet-shaped aerial slid up to the ropes. The door swung up. A metal step unfurled from the underside of the vehicle, permitting the passengers to exit in comfort. Celino stepped out. Tall, lean, and overwhelmingly masculine in the traditional Carvanna black doublet stretched by his broad shoulders. He had matured well. Too well, Meli reflected.

  He bent lightly, offering his hand, and immediately feminine fingers rested in his palm. A woman stepped out. She wore a glittering silvery sari that stopped a shade short of vulgar. In spiky heels, she stood only a couple of inches shorter than Celino, six two to his six four. A fountain of blonde hair spilled down her back all the way past her butt.

  Celino led her down the carpet. They seemed perfectly matched—her glamorous light to his brooding darkness. A painful needle pierced Meli's chest. Old dreams, she reminded herself.

  She sensed the attack a moment before it came. Celino's head jerked as the crowd on the right erupted and four men dashed at him. The magnetic disruptors installed by theater security made any metal projectiles unusable, and the attackers opted for dark red monomolecule blades.

  Celino thrust his date behind him with a powerful shove and attacked so quickly, he blurred. He was preternaturally fast. Meli tapped the screen, slowing the recording by twenty-five percent. He held a simple metal knife. His swipe drew a bright red gash down the first attacker's throat—beautifully done. A vertical gash opened a bigger hole in the carotid without slowing down the strike. It was nearly impossible to hit the artery that way—like aiming at a piece of lubricated IV drip dancing around in the wind. Meli had factored in the enhanced strength and speed, but Celino seemed to have enhanced reflexes as well. Or perhaps a targeting implant. Or both.

  The second cut grazed the second attacker's arm pit, severing another vein. The third assailant received a sideways swipe to the kidneys. That strike took a quarter of a second longer than Celino had planned. She saw him change his strategy in mid-move, hammering a kick to the fourth man's neck. She rewound half a second, slowed the feed to half speed, and watched Celino's black boot connect with the man's neck. She couldn't hear the telltale crunch, but she saw the man's neck line jerk sharply. Celino's kick had broken the vertebrae of his attacker.

  She shut down the notebook. In a purely physical confrontation, Celino would kill her. She had absolutely no doubt of that. She was a small woman—he towered over her by a foot, outweighed her by at least eighty pounds of hard muscle, and he had enhancements she couldn't match. Judging from Celino's performance, very few people would be able to match him blow by blow. Add to it bodyguards, who always accompanied him. And Marcus. One couldn't forget Marcus. Only one generation removed from old planet, Marcus was ill suited to traditional enhancements. Instead he had done horrible things to his body in the name of service. A walking poison, he killed with a mere touch. Celino had saved him years ago and Marcus was devoted to Celino like a dog.

  To kill Celino Carvanna, she would have to get close to him and separate him from his guards.

  Father was right. None of the people at Galdes disposal could take out Celino Carvanna. In fact, of all the millions that inhabited New Delphi, she alone was uniquely qualified to take him on.

  Father, in his wisdom, also reasoned that she would do it. If not for the sake of Galdes, then for the sake of sliding the tomb stone atop her broken heart. He believed she would hate Celino Carvanna. Af
ter all, Celino had humiliated the Galdes family. He ruined her life, obliterating her future. Of course, she had to hate him.

  Meli recalled the file. Celino chose to oversee a number of projects for Carvannas, including Raban, Inc. and Sunlight Development. He was active and ruthless, and his leadership brought his family to its prominence. He made the Carvanna millions. For all practical purposes, he was the Carvanna family. His death would plunge his clan into chaos and destroy the value of their stock.

  Angel had managed to obtain Celino's calendar for the next two weeks, at astronomical cost, no doubt. Celino scheduled an inspection of the new development to the south. That meant a flurry of meetings and formal dinner engagements, which, if the new Celino was anything like his younger self, he would loathe it with great passion. He was both too active and too smart. Time may have taught him patience with less agile minds, but it could hardly teach him how to escape boredom in their presence.

  She had reviewed his recent development projects. Celino built beautiful places, full of sunlight and flowers, all of the modern technology seamlessly married with the provincial earthiness. Meli smiled. One could remove a man from the provinces, but one couldn't take the provinces out of the man. He would strive to escape tedium of formality, which meant he would likely stay in his villa on the Terraces and lunch below, among the cafes.

  Revenge was sometimes best served hot.

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  Could he give up the stars ... for her?

  Earthchild

  © 2008 Katriena Knights

  Taken in as an infant and raised by the primitive, non-human natives of the colony planet Denahault, Noisy Girl has always known she was different. Human settlers initiating peaceful contact confirm it—her true home is a planet called Earth, millions of miles away among the stars.

  Her search for her heritage leads her to the home of Harrison Fairfax and Trieka Cavendish, and their guest Jeff Anderson, Trieka's former second-in-command.

  For Jeff, Trieka's offer to captain the legendary ship Starchild is a lifelong dream fulfilled. Then he meets Noisy Girl, an entrancing young woman who speaks only in sign language. She captures his imagination like no other woman ever has, and his efforts to teach her English deepens a relationship he never thought was possible for him.

  But the claustrophobic, technology-laden atmosphere of Earth traumatizes the gentle Noisy Girl, and suddenly Jeff's choices aren't quite so clear.

  If he accepts permanent command of Starchild, all hope of happiness with this beguiling woman will be destroyed. Unless a compromise can be found...

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Earthchild:

  "...so she just stripped right there and put it on."

  "At least you know she liked it,” said Fairfax.

  Jeff glanced down the table at Noisy Girl. He wasn't comfortable talking about her while she sat only a few feet away. But her smile reminded him she had no idea what he was saying. Even if she had, he didn't think it would have bothered her because she had no idea why what she'd done might seem unusual.

  Trieka gestured with her fork. “She has no concept of nudity, Jeff. Think about it. She's lived her whole life among people who are physically incapable of being naked."

  He nodded. That part made sense to him. “But the merchant—he barely blinked an eye."

  "It's a frontier planet.” Trieka shrugged. “Most of the people here left Earth because they wanted to get away from the restrictive environment. There's a lot of acceptance here. As long as you aren't hurting anything, nobody really cares what you do."

  "Personally, I'm highly in favor of women running naked in the streets."

  Jeff stared, barely believing the comment had come from Fairfax. It must have, though, because Trieka, grinning, smacked his arm. Fairfax, unfazed, opened his roast beef sandwich and added another spoonful of horseradish.

  Jeff decided it would be easier to change the subject than to dwell on the fact he'd never in his life had so much fun shopping with a woman. And that it would have been fun even if she hadn't taken her clothes off. “There have to be rules, though. Don't tell me the whole planet is anarchist."

  "Not as many rules as there were,” said Fairfax, “and there weren't many to begin with."

  He took her to the observation lounge. They sat at a small table near the huge, curved, transparent wall where the stars shone like a carelessly scattered bag of diamonds, and the great, blue sphere of Earth drew the eye. It still amazed Jeff with its pure beauty. From here, it looked unsullied, as if man had never touched it. The night side would be scattered with lights, echoing the surrounding stars, but the day side appeared as pristine as it must have been on the day of its birth.

  "It's beautiful,” Lark said. “It doesn't look very different from Denahault."

  "Not from here.” He reached across the table to take her hand because he wanted more than anything in that moment to touch her. “From the ground, it's a different story."

  "You'll be with me."

  Her trusting smile humbled and frightened him. How could he promise to protect her from dangers she couldn't imagine? But he would promise, and he'd do the best he could. “I'll be with you as much as I can."

  It seemed an appropriate time. He slipped his free hand into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small velvet box. Gently, he laid it on the table. He'd bought it earlier in the day at one of the space station's newer shops, on an impulse, as he'd tried to work his way around the delicate dilemma Lark presented.

  "What's that?” she asked.

  "Open it."

  She withdrew her hand from his and picked up the soft, maroon box. He tried not to be impatient as she caressed the velvet, sliding her fingers around the small object as if it were something wonderful and new. He supposed it was to her. Another woman would have ignored the box entirely, bent on discovering the contents. Her admiration of it made his heart warm.

  Finally she tipped the lid upward. He studied her face for a reaction, but saw only a small reflective frown. After a moment, she looked up. “Rings?"

  "Yes."

  "They're very pretty.” He could tell from her tone she was waiting for him to explain the rings’ significance, or if they had any at all.

  "Call them promise rings,” he said finally. “I thought about having a contract drawn up, but you said you didn't want that. So I got the rings instead, as a symbol of my promise to take care of you and be with you for as long as you want to be with me.” He paused, then took the plunge. “And to love you."

  Tears glittered through her smile. She pulled the larger ring out of the box. “Give me your hand."

  He held out his hand, suddenly conscious of the three or five other people in the room, the sudden silence that had fallen. He didn't want to look up. He should have taken her back to his quarters for this, made it a private moment. But she seemed unaware of anyone but him as she slid the ring over his finger. Then she handed him the velvet box, and he slid the matching ring over her left ring finger.

  From elsewhere in the lounge came applause. Embarrassed, he tried not to look, but Lark, grinning, stood and took a bow. “They're happy for us,” she said, sitting back down.

  He dared a sidelong glance, barely meeting a variety of warm smiles. “Yes, I think they are.” He kissed her hand, looking at the silver filigree ring, the way it fit her finger, how right it looked. “I love you, Lark."

  "I love you, Star Man.” She leaned across the table and kissed him. “Take me back to my room."

  She barely let the door close behind them before she was in his arms, her mouth finding his, her hands finding their way under his shirt. So much for a slow seduction, he thought. Then he quit thinking entirely and lost himself in her enthusiasm.

  He'd made love to more experienced women, but never one with such exuberance. She kissed him hard and long, following his lead as his tongue found hers and danced with it. Her lithe, warm body responded to his every move until they were hot and bare and stretched across
the bed that seemed huge after the narrow shipboard berths. It was far too late to turn back now, and he didn't want to. If he could have everything he wanted in his life, it would be this woman and the Starchild.

  She stretched long and sleek beneath him and he explored her with his hands, cupping her breasts, feeling the curves of her ribs, tracing the round tattoo beneath her right arm. Her skin was milky in places where the sun had never touched it, brownish and marked with tiny scars in other places where sunlight and the forest had left their signs. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything so beautiful as the thorn-scratches on her ankles, or the odd blue-black mandala under her arm.

  Then his fingers moved between her legs, found her hot and damp. Her hips jerked as he explored, tracing each fold, resting his fingers a moment against the evidence of her virginity. He hoped he wouldn't hurt her.

  "Have you done this before?” he asked, his voice quiet, strained with the effort of self-control. His erection grazed her legs, steely and insistent, while he forced himself to ignore it.

  "Not with a partner,” she answered. The image of her pleasuring herself sent all the blood rushing from his head. He couldn't think anymore. Instead, he moved his fingers away from her heat and put his mouth to her.

  Lark was far from ignorant about sex, but she'd never anticipated this She knew how her body worked, knew what caused pleasure and what brought the deep, pulsing fire. But what she'd discovered on her own was nothing compared to what Jeff coaxed out of her now.

  She held still, letting herself feel. Jeff's mouth and hands teased her for a time, then he shifted his body over her, his mouth on her breasts. She slid her hands down his back, reveling in the smoothness of his skin, excited by the tension beneath it. She knew he held back, also knew he had no reason to. Lowering her hands to his hips, she shifted under him, opening her thighs until his thick erection nudged against her.