Mercenaries

Rune stopped in surprise, his Tribeship instinct to revere women warring with his training against giving an enemy quarter.

She was tall, long-boned, and lean-muscled, her white-blond hair braided in an intricate arrangement designed to accommodate a helmet. She met his gaze without flinching, her expression professional and wary, her grip on her combat knife steady. Very different from the pampered, voluptuous Mahiris who ruled the women’s deck, dispensing pain and pleasure at whim.

Even so, her lean body had some very lush, pretty curves not even combat armor could hide. Her eyes were an exotic green in her heart-shaped face, and her mouth looked soft, kissable, despite its grim line.

Desire closed a hot, tight fist around Rune’s balls. It had been too long since his last visit to the women’s deck. It was too bad he couldn’t have encountered his pretty foe under better circumstances.

Though a male warrior with her intelligence and skill could not be allowed to live, a woman with those traits would make an invaluable addition to his tribe. And Rune had no doubt this one would breed magnificent warriors.

The problem, of course, was that any female fighter worthy of being Claimed would slit a warrior’s throat for the attempt. Which was as it should be. A woman who would yield easily was not worth having.

Slowly Rune began moving toward her again, evaluating the grim determination in her eyes. No, she wouldn’t go down easily.

She would have to be captured and disarmed, then courted and seduced. Trying to force her would be profoundly stupid. She’d either fight him to the death, or pretend to yield and kill him when his guard was down. That would be what he would do himself, faced with an overwhelming foe.

He began his campaign when he reached a respectful distance, his slight bow wary as he watched her pretty face. “I am Major Rune Alrigo of the Dharani Tribeship Conquest. I offer challenge to a Claiming Duel.”

Rune could tell by her lack of reaction that she had no idea what he meant. She probably assumed he simply intended to kill her. She gave him a short, sharp nod in return. “Lieutenant Cassidy Vika of the mercenary warship Starrunner. What the hell was the business with the Tach Pulse? I don’t know about you, but I’d actually like to get rescued.”

Her pretty mouth tightened. He wondered how it would feel against his. “Look, asshole, this is not a duel—it’s war. There’s no time for whatever elaborate ceremonies you lunatics have constructed to entertain yourselves when you’re bored. This is for real.”

“Oh, most definitely.” He would have to teach her about the nature of honor. Not surprising; the Dharani conception of honor was a difficult one for those not of the Tribes.

Her expression went even colder. “Fine. Let’s dance.” Holding her blade in a competent knife fighter’s guard, she advanced, light and graceful on the balls of her feet. Rune fell into a crouch, his attention focused on her eyes. If she felt fear, it didn’t show. Good.

Cassidy stopped a little more than a pace away, her hands moving in hypnotic patterns designed to confuse. Rune waited, knowing she’d find his stillness more unnerving.

Without warning, he lunged with a hard slash designed to test her strength and reflexes. Even as he attacked, Rune prepared to pull the blow; he had no desire to kill her.

She did not disappoint him, slipping aside like a ghost. Her return slash scored his tough armor, but didn’t penetrate it. “Very good,” he told her, pleased with her speed.

“Condescending prick,” she growled, and came after him in a flurry of steel that forced him to retreat, blocking knife thrust after knife thrust with flicks of his own blade. Her nanotech implants made her strength something to respect, though he still had a considerable advantage in muscle.

Assured she could handle herself, Rune launched another series of attacks, moving faster this time, pushing harder. He wanted to wear her down so he could get in close enough to begin her seduction.

Close enough for the secret weapon in his erotic arsenal to take effect. If she was susceptible. It would certainly simplify matters if she were.

CASSIDY had the ugly feeling she was in serious trouble. For one thing, the top of her head barely came to the Tribesman’s shoulder, and she figured he outweighed her by a good sixty kilos. She still could have taken him if he’d been merely human—her implants would have seen to that. Unfortunately, this Rune Alrigo had implants of his own. To make matters worse, her sensors told her somebody had done some intensive genetic modifications on the bastard, probably before he was even born. His bones and muscle were denser, tougher, than that of a normal human, even one that had been enhanced.

It helped that Alrigo was playing with her. Given his strength and implants, he should be hitting her a lot harder, a lot faster. At least once she’d caught him pulling a knife stroke that would have sliced right through her armor.

What the devil was he up to? Why take the risk of playing this game if he didn’t plan to kill her? Alrigo had to realize that despite his physical advantages, she could still outmaneuver him. Hell, sheer bad luck had killed many a strong fighter; all he had to do was trip. So why take the chance?

The thought sent a stab of cold fear through Cassidy, but she suppressed it ruthlessly. She’d always known being a mercenary could go very bad in a hurry. Getting blown to quarks in a space battle was actually one of her preferred ways to die, compared to some she could name.

Cassidy surged at him, slashing and stabbing in a flurry of attacks. He ducked or parried every one of them, but he had to work at it.

Breathing hard now, she circled him, looking for an opening in his rock-steady guard. Sweat rolled under her combat armor to pool at the base of her spine, sticky and itching. The suit normally had a heating and cooling system that would keep her comfortable in much worse conditions than this, but that damn Tach Pulse had disabled it. Cassidy wished she could strip off and let the breeze blow across her overheated skin.

Probably not a good idea, given the way Alrigo was watching her. His gaze was a little unnerving. Unusual eyes—smoky blue irises threaded with silver, predatory and intent. His nostrils flared, reminding her of a wolf catching a scent. A bead of sweat rolled down one high cheekbone and right past the corner of his sensual mouth.

Cassidy attacked in a brutal thrust to the belly, and the Tribesman parried with a flick of his blade. She kept going, slamming into him, grabbing for his knife wrist with her left hand as she tried to drive her own weapon into the underside of that square jaw. Alrigo clamped a hand over her wrist so hard, she felt the bones grind. She fought him anyway, trying to force the knife point that last few centimeters.

Suddenly he quit holding back. Dragging her weapon hand down and to the side, he twisted and yanked. The knife went flying. She shouted in rage as he rammed her, forcing her over backward.

They hit the ground hard, the breath whooshing from Cassidy’s chest as Alrigo’s full weight slammed down on top of her. She bucked, managed to throw him off, then flipped around and started to scramble after her fallen knife.

He pounced on her like a mountain lion on a rabbit. He weighed a ton. Cassidy’s arms and legs went out from under her so fast she tasted dirt. But the knife glittered in the ground vegetation barely a meter away, so she threw herself toward it anyway, lifting both of them off the ground with her enhanced strength.

Until Alrigo got an arm around her throat and braced a leg against her progress. Suddenly they weren’t going anywhere. “I think not,” he breathed in her ear, and forced her down again. One of his legs hooked under and around one of hers as he applied ruthless pressure against her windpipe. The other arm wrapped under her own to clamp a hand around the back of her neck. She managed to jerk her head to the side so she could suck in a breath. Throwing her weight against him, she rolled them both over.

Luckily she still had one arm free. Cassidy grabbed the forearm across her throat and dug for a nerve, trying to force him to let go, but the tough armor of his suit protected him. She couldn’t get a grip.

Where the fuck was Alrigo’s knife? Both his hands were occupied with holding her. He had her immobilized; this was a perfect opportunity to slide a blade between her ribs, but he’d evidently dropped it. Why?

He wasn’t even pressing on her throat hard enough to choke her. In fact, he was making no effort to finish her at all, though she could think of a dozen ways to do it.

Furiously Cassidy twisted and fought, digging with her free hand, trying to force him to let go. No matter how she bucked and writhed, she couldn’t seem to break his hold. “What the hell are you doing?” she panted at last, furious and frustrated. “If you’re going to kill me, quit fucking around!”

She growled and went back to battering at any part of him she could reach, but her free arm felt as if it were turning to lead.

He was so damn big. It was as though God had carved him from solid granite, all ridges and hollows and swells of hard muscle against her back.

It was too bad they’d had to meet like this. She’d bet he’d be delicious in the sack. He was built just the way she liked them: big and brawny. Her nipples hardened as she imagined him surging against her in passion.

As the sudden wave of lust rolled over her, Cassidy blinked. Good God, she was actually getting turned on. The guy had tried to kill her a dozen times today, and damn near succeeded. Now he had her pinned like an eelsnake coiled around a rat, and damned if there wasn’t a ball of heat gathering in her belly.

Thing was, she liked the way he smelled. God knew why; they both reeked of sweat and smoke and the oily tang of body armor. Cassidy should have been grimacing, yet she found herself inhaling instead. Hungrily, as if Alrigo was a rare delicacy and she wanted to take a big bite. She fought the desire to turn in his arms and find out if he tasted as good as he smelled.

Unease snaked through Cassidy’s building arousal. She’d fought a lot of men hand-to-hand, but she’d never wanted to fuck any of them. Yet this one had her ready to rip off his clothes just from his scent alone.