by S. E. Smith
She thrust her leg out toward the man named Rick, and her booted foot connected with his groin. She was already in motion before his pain registered and the loud curse burst from his lips. She rolled to her feet and had taken only a couple of steps when she was wrenched to a stop. Struggling to break free, she shrugged off the straps of her backpack.
The sudden release caused the man who had a grip on her backpack to fall back a few steps. Unfortunately, Rick recovered more quickly than she’d expected. Pain exploded through the side of her face when he punched her in the jaw. The blow knocked her off her feet. One of the men, she wasn’t sure which one, kicked her in the ribs.
She rolled to put some distance between herself and their powerful kicks, and hissed when the ground shook from an explosion inside the warehouse. It was enough to distract the two men—but only for a second. She made it to her knees before she looked up and saw Rick pointing his handgun at her head.
“Asshole,” she sneered.
Runt looked down the barrel and braced herself for certain death. She had no sooner spoken than Rick was lifted off of his feet and flung into the barrels that she had been standing on earlier. Manny turned his gun on whoever had appeared. She winced when she heard the distinctive snap of bone breaking followed by a tortured cry.
Runt scrambled to her feet and pressed her back against the cold metal wall. The sounds of screams and gunfire coming from inside drowned out what was happening out here. It sounded like a war was going on inside the warehouse.
Horror gripped her when the man who had saved her from certain death twisted around with Rick’s body dangling in front of him like a limp doll, just as Manny fired several shots. Rick jerked as each one pierced his body.
Runt waited for her savior to collapse. She was sure that the bullets must have gone all the way through Rick’s body. Shock immobilized her when the man tossed Rick’s body aside like it was a store mannequin.
She switched her focus from him to the other gunman. Manny’s gun had jammed, and he was reaching for another one. In a fraction of a second, her rescuer had stripped Manny of his weapon, then he placed his hands on each side of Manny’s head, and with a great deal of force, he wrenched it to the side. Runt heard the sickening snap despite the loud chaos going on inside the building behind her.
Fear flooded Runt when the man in black turned toward her, pulling a sword from his waist as he did so. In the flickering light through the window, she could see his features. His silver eyes glowed, and his mouth….
She swallowed. He looked like the alien vampires from a comic series that she liked to read. The guy looked young, not much older than she was, but that was where their similarities ended.
The primal response of fight or flight kicked in, and since she honestly didn’t have a death wish, she decided to flee. Surging forward, she grabbed her backpack and took off. The low, animalistic snarl behind her added wings to her feet, and she ran as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.
Turning the corner, she reached out and yanked down a pile of metal bars that were leaning against the building. The loud clanging of metal on concrete drowned out any other sounds—or it did until the guy following her had to navigate through them.
She raced across the parking lot to the next warehouse. This building had holes that she could escape into, and were small enough that he would never fit. There were also places under the warehouses that only she and the rats knew about. The joy of being smaller than the average person was that she could go where most people would never dream of entering.
Runt sensed he was gaining on her. The large bay door was ajar, stretched as far as the chain across it would allow. Adrenaline flooded through her. Holding her backpack in one hand, she turned sideways and ducked under the chain. She slipped cleanly through the narrow opening only to mutter a curse when her knit cap caught on the chain and came off.
Twisting around, she snatched the cap seconds before the man reached the door. She pulled the cap back over her head and stumbled back, looking at him with wide, defiant eyes. He stared back at her through the opening.
“You cannot escape me,” he vowed.
Runt snorted. She had heard that before—a lot of times. So far, she had proved all the AHWs wrong. She watched as he gripped the doors. The chain was thick. There was no way he could get through unless he either broke the chain or broke the door. Since neither was likely, she took a few seconds to catch her breath and study him.
His lips were slightly parted, and up close, she could see that his canines were longer than normal. Either this guy was into the whole Goth thing and had implants done, or he thought dressing like a vampire gave him supernatural powers. She decided it must be one or the other because her first thought had been too far out there—literally!
She shook her head. Enough was enough. This guy had just killed two people.
Well, technically he only killed one, but that was one more than I needed to witness, she decided.
It was time to disappear. It wouldn’t take long for this guy to figure out another way into the building. The bay doors with the chain across them might stop him, but there were at least a dozen other ways in—if you didn’t mind kicking in a door or climbing through a window.
Keeping a wary eye on him, she slowly backed away from the door. Once she was several yards away from him, she turned and began to run again. She was halfway to the far side of the room when a loud screech of metal on metal caused her to look over her shoulder. Her eyes widened in stunned disbelief when she saw his sword slice through the thick links. He smiled menacingly at her as he pushed one of the heavy metal doors aside.
He twirled the long blade in his hand. Muttering a soft curse under her breath, Runt turned and fled toward the far side of the warehouse. His roar echoed through the large, vacant area behind her. A long stream of curses that she had learned from her father swept through her mind as the chase began again.
Runt considered all the different spots in this warehouse and throughout the yard where she could hide. There was a gaping hole in the back office wall that she could slip through. The lower wall was made of concrete and had a hole in it where a safe used to be until it was pulled out.
She hit the door with her shoulder. The metal door swung wildly inward before it hit the wall and slammed shut again. She lunged and slid across the top of the metal desk, landing on the other side. A gaping hole about three feet wide led to the outside.
Dropping to her knees, she pushed her backpack through the opening and frantically began crawling through. A startled yelp escaped her when her pursuer grabbed her ankle and yanked. She felt his warm fingers even through her socks and jeans. Rolling in the narrow space, she kicked the man as hard as she could.
He smothered an oath of pain and released her ankle to hold his nose. She scooted through the opening, and had just parted her lips to tell the bastard where he could go when she saw a glint of silver hanging on a thin piece of electrical wire sticking out of the rough concrete she had just passed over. Pulling off her glove, she reached up to her neck and desperately searched for the necklace she had been wearing. It was gone. She couldn’t leave it—the necklace was the last gift her mother had given her. The locket held a picture of Runt and her mom inside.
She darted forward and grabbed the fine chain, but before she could pull back again, his strong fingers shackled her sleeve-covered wrist and pulled her forward. She braced her free hand against the wall and struggled to break free.
“Let me go!” she angrily hissed.
Instead, he tightened his hold on her wrist, and she locked gazes with him, momentarily mesmerized by the up-close view of the guy’s molten silver eyes.
“You are a female!” he stated, clearly shocked.
For a moment, they stared at each other through the hole in the wall. She tugged on her arm. He loosened his fingers just enough to slide them along the coarse material of her coat and touch her bare palm. A startled cry slipped from her lips.
It felt l
ike he had zapped her with static electricity! He must have felt it as well because he yanked his hand back. She scrambled back out of his reach but continued to gaze at him in shock.
“What are you?” she asked, the words coming out more curious than afraid.
He glanced down at his palm before he looked back at her with eyes that glowed with silver flames. He smiled at her, and she could see the tips of his sharp teeth. This wasn’t some guy dressed up as his favorite fictional character, this guy was real—and he wasn’t human.
“I am Derik ‘Tag Krell Manok, and you, little human, are my bond mate,” he stated.
His quiet, accented voice was warm and reverent and sent a shiver of warning through her that pissed her off. She narrowed her eyes, and her lips tightened into a flat, disapproving line at his claim and his possessive tone. She pulled her backpack closer and rose to one knee, then stood up and began backing away.
She abruptly stopped when he turned his hand over and she clearly saw something delicate dangling from his fingers. She looked down at her own hand. The necklace her mother had given her was gone. In its place was a tingling symbol in the center of her palm that had not been there before. Briefly closing her eyes, she realized that she must have dropped the necklace into his hand when he shocked her.
Fury poured through her at the loss. There was no way she could retrieve it without being caught. Turning on her heel, she did what her mom had taught her to do when she was in danger—she fled into the darkness.
‘Retreating is not defeat, Amelia. As long as you are alive you can fight another day. Hope will keep you going.’
Her memory of her mother’s gentle voice soothed her mind. She would fight alright. The sound of sirens was getting louder, which told her that the explosions had been reported and the police were almost there. By tomorrow, she would know who to target—and she hoped one of the guys she hit hardest would have silver eyes with flames in them.
Derik ‘Tag Krell Manok. You are so going down, she thought as she slipped through the chain link fence and disappeared into the dark bowels of the city.
Derik kicked open the warehouse door and ran outside. He paused and looked both ways before he took off in the same direction that the female had disappeared. He rounded the corner and stopped again. He scanned the area for any signs of movement.
A faint breeze caressed his hot skin, and he lifted his head to sniff the air, hoping to catch a scent that would give him a direction to follow. Turning in a semi-circle, he raised his hands to his head in frustration before he dropped them to his side. There was nothing but the distant sounds of the battle raging in the other warehouse.
He curled his fingers into a fist. It had taken him several minutes to find a door that wasn’t blocked with debris.
He looked toward the fence that ran the length of the warehouses, and strode toward a jagged gap someone had cut through the wire. When he was close enough to touch the metal barrier, he noticed a dark shape lying on the ground near the opening. Kneeling, he picked up the fingerless black knit glove. The woman had been wearing gloves like this.
Lifting the glove to his nose, he sniffed it. A surge of warmth flooded him—it was her scent. He curled his fingers possessively around the glove, looked up, and scanned the area again. He now had two items that belonged to her.
Derik hesitated a moment longer at the gap in the fence. She had escaped into the city. His gaze swept the area before he looked down and studied his tingling palm again.
A sense of wonder swept through him when he saw the distinctive mark that had not been there earlier. Rising to his feet, he curled his fingers into his palm. He was torn between duty to his people and his need to find the female who was his bond mate.
The primitive need to find and protect his mate was stronger. He gripped the wire and was just pulling it back when the sound of more sirens filled the air. A fervent curse slipped from his lips. He released the wire and stepped away from the steel barrier. He would be no good to his mate if he was captured by her people.
“I will find you, little warrior. You cannot hide from me forever—no matter how hard you fight,” he murmured as he turned back, reaching up to rub his bruised lip where she had kicked him.
Chapter One
Present Day:
Cosmos Raines Industries (CRI)
Houston, Texas
* * *
Runt stared moodily out the window at the lights below. She was in the apartment that Avery had given her when she first arrived to work at CRI. The spacious elegance within Cosmos Raines’ Tower still didn’t feel comfortable to her, but the busy energy of the city below was soothing.
She wrapped her arms around her waist as she stared down at the city that never seemed to sleep. A sudden tickle made her feel like she was going to sneeze. Lifting her arm, she absentmindedly rubbed her nose against her sleeve. Her mind churned with random thoughts as she contemplated what she was about to do.
“Amelia…,” RITA’s gentle voice murmured.
“Yes, RITA,” Runt quietly responded.
“What’s wrong, love? You’ve been staring out at the city for almost an hour,” RITA reflected.
Runt’s lips twitched at RITA’s concern. The slight wafting of air told her that RITA had manifested a somewhat corporeal form. She turned her head and looked at the holographic image.
“Are you watching me again? You’re getting better at moving things,” Runt commented.
RITA wiggled her nose. “Yes, but that does not answer my question,” RITA pointed out.
Runt turned to gaze out the window again. She was silent for a few seconds, unsure whether she wanted to share what she was thinking and feeling—even with RITA. She tightened her arms around her waist.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking,” she finally replied.
“About Derik?” RITA teasingly inquired.
Runt grimaced in distaste. She was not going to admit that she had been thinking about Derik ‘Tag Krell Manok! A shiver of unease ran through her. That was usually a sign that it was time to disappear. Of course, it wasn’t like this was the first time she’d thought about leaving. It was just the first time that she knew she was actually going to do it.
The problem was doing it without RITA knowing. Cosmos Raines’ AI system, RITA, which stood for Really Intelligent Technical Assistant, was as close to family as Runt could get. It was that connection that made her reluctant to hurt RITA, even if she was only a computer program.
She’s more than binary code, Runt thought, observing the soft concern in RITA’s glowing eyes.
“I wish…,” she started to say before she shook her head and looked down at the floor.
“What do you wish, Amelia?” RITA asked.
Runt shook her head again. “I’m going to go out for a bit. Now that Avery has been found and we know that Markham and Wright are dead, I don’t need to be here as much,” she stated, dropping her arms to her sides. She turned and grabbed her backpack from the floor near the chair and pulled it onto her back.
“Amelia…,” RITA started to protest.
Runt turned and looked at the holographic figure of the woman she had come to love. The AI glided forward and lifted a nearly transparent hand to caress her cheek. Runt pulled back when RITA’s fingers passed through her flesh. Sorrow and a sense of loneliness enveloped Runt. It had been so long since she’d been touched by another human that she had almost forgotten what it felt like. The last hug had been from her mother.
“Oh, sweetheart,” RITA said with regret.
Runt shook her head. “I’ll be back later,” she lied.
She turned away and headed for the door to her apartment. This was not her world. She belonged in the hackers’ underground, out on the streets where people talked and the shadows listened. She had a place among those who knew about the darkness—not in a castle in the sky.
Baade: Prime Home World
Prime Palace
“Derik,” Tresa called, drawing his att
ention.
He had seen his mother enter out of his peripheral vision, but couldn’t halt what he was doing. He struck several flying disks before he lowered his arms and stepped back. He reached for the controller at his waist, but before he could pull it out and end the program, another attack disk shot toward him.
Turning in a blur of speed, he twisted and kicked. The disk shattered under the force of his blow. Tiny particles fell to the floor.
He lowered his leg and wiped the sweat from his brow. His scowl of annoyance softened when he saw the expression of concern on his mother’s face. A rueful smile tugged at his lips. He knew he had been difficult to live with lately.
“Mother,” he said with a slight, respectful bow of his head.
She picked up a towel and handed it to him. As he used it to wipe the sweat from his face, he surreptitiously regarded her serene face and recognized her expression. As the youngest sibling, he’d had plenty of practice observing his mother as the beacon that guided everyone, including his father. Baade might be considered a patriarchal civilization, but he knew better when it came to his family. His father might be the face of the Prime—but it was his mother who was their heart.
“I see that you have been improving. Brock is not going to be happy that you keep destroying his new training equipment,” she observed, walking over to toe one of the shattered disks.
Derik’s lips twitched. “He already warned me that he asked Lan to change the code to the equipment room. He said I was far worse than my brothers when it came to destroying his inventions,” he admitted.
He watched his mother turn and assess him with an expression of curiosity. After a few seconds, he looked away. How was it that just her look could make him feel like he was an adolescent again?
“Come sit with me a moment,” she said, crossing over to a bench near the training room window.
