Deep Kiss of Winter (34 page)

They had been inching toward her with determined expressions, but now they froze in place.

“Which one is which?” one of the men asked, glancing between the two of them.

“Look at the clothing,” someone said. “Hers is a different material and ripped.”

“But what if even that is a trick?”

“Stay where you are,” Breean told them, parroting the female. “I will handle her.”

“
I
will handle her and the prisoners,” she said as if she truly were him. That intense glaze of concentration fell over her, and once more she disappeared.

His eyes narrowed as he searched the field, trying to zero in on a blur . . . seeing nothing . . . nothing . . . there! She materialized in front of the sleeping agents and crouched.

Her back was to him, and she seemed to shrink before his eyes. Her short golden hair lengthened and paled, appearing exactly as before. One of her hands shot out, slapping a human across the face. Pause. Another slap. Pause. She leaned to the side, muttered something, and slapped a second agent.

Who was she hitting? Slight as her body now was, it still managed to block Breean's gaze. He was afraid to move, however. Afraid she'd change personas or leap into motion again. Afraid he'd lose her.

A second later, she shoved to her feet and faced him. Leveling two guns, she edged to the center of the clearing, her left shoulder toward him, her right shoulder toward his men.

When had she picked up the second gun?

“Why won't they wake up?” she demanded angrily.

As he soaked in her blue eyes and womanly form, relief was like a living entity inside him. Much as he
liked himself, he didn't want to seduce himself. Well, not anymore. There'd been enough of that over the past two years to last a lifetime. “They are merely sleeping.”

“You had better wake them up. Or, to answer your earlier question, I'll shoot you with
this
.”

Fierce, passionate, and now protective. His admiration spiked, and yes, so did his desire, damn his hot-blooded nature. And damn his abstinence. Yet he couldn't deny that he was glad the first woman he'd stumbled upon was this one. Even though he could not control her, she was delectable. To have her the way he wanted her, he would have to calm her, something else he had no experience with.

“Be easy,” he said. Surely that would work.

“Don't just stand there,” she snapped. “Wake them.”

Or not. “Your commands will continue to go unheeded.”
That is not how you calm a female, I don't think
. It was just, Rakan females had striven to do all they could to satisfy those around them—before the disease, that is. They'd rarely argued and had never disobeyed. They'd accepted and they'd agreed, as though the need to please had been ingrained in them at birth.

This woman obviously bowed to no one. That should have angered him, or at the very least deterred him. Yet he could suddenly imagine being tied up,
dominated,
helpless to this female's pleasure as she ground herself on his cock.

Interesting, but not something he could allow.
There was just too much risk. To give up control was to invite bloodshed.

He stood there, unsure how to proceed. How
did
you calm a female you could not bend to your will, if silken commands failed? His men shifted uncomfortably, as if, like him, they were trying to decide what to do. They meant well, but he didn't want one of them to take her down or touch her in any way.

“Hold,” he told them.

The woman's hand shook—what was her name? He found that he wanted to know as intently as he wanted to know what species she was. Which also happened to be as intently as he wanted to lick her until she came, starting with her breasts and working his way down.

“Didn't I tell you once before to get that look off your face?” she said breathlessly, then fired both guns simultaneously.

He easily leapt out of the way, the blue stun-beam sailing past him. As fast as he could move, the gun's rays were slow motion to him. But one of his men, Eton, did not see the approaching beam and was nailed, instantly freezing in place. The other warriors glanced to Breean, clearly angry that another of their brethren was immobilized and would have to be carried. They wanted to act.

“No,” he said. “Mine.” To her, he added, “What look?”

“Like you're going to eat me. I don't like it.”

“The look will disappear, I'm sure, after I
have
eaten you.” The good kind of eating, too. Not the
kind his people had enjoyed, there at the end. He shuddered. “Do not worry, though. I promise not to use my teeth.”

Scowling, she fired again, but once more he easily dodged. “Will you just be still already?” Her gaze circled the clearing and she pushed out a frustrated breath. “Come on,” she muttered, though he didn't think she realized she'd said anything aloud.

There'd been no sign of anyone out there, but she obviously expected someone to show up and didn't like that they hadn't yet. Better they came here to fight amid nature than to fight amongst the innocents living in the city. He, too, would wait for them. Silver lining: another fight might help dull his arousal.

“What is your name, female?” he repeated, remaining on alert.

“Why did you come here?” she demanded, pretending yet again that he had not spoken. “What do you want from us?”

There had to be a way around her reluctance to share. “Why should I answer your questions when you refuse to answer mine?” Excellent. Soliciting her sense of fair play.

A heavy pause. A grind of her teeth. “My name is . . . Macy.”

Macy. It was a lovely name, as stunning as the woman herself—whichever face she happened to don (even his)—but it didn't fit her. Still, it was worthy of shouting while pumping inside of her. Over and over again. “I am Breean, and I'm here to make a new home for myself and my men.” He'd been
searching forever, it seemed, but he'd finally found the perfect place to relocate.

They'd spent the last several months coming and going, preparing. Earth had everything they needed: water, technology beyond their comprehension, medical supplies, and warm female bodies. More than that, the people here knew how to survive. If plague struck, they most likely had a cure. If not, they could create one.

Never again did he want to watch those he loved die of debilitating sickness, helpless as a craving for living flesh bloomed inside them. Never again did he want to feel powerless as others died and he remained strong.

“Earth might play host to all manner of alien races, but its people are in no way welcoming,” she said, and she sounded bitter about it.

Did she have firsthand knowledge of that lack of welcome? “Humans will have no choice but to accept us.”

“Oh, really? Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He hoped. “And now, this standoff is becoming tiresome, Macy.” Waiting, he decided, could be done in a more pleasurable way. He approached her, his yearning intensifying—soon, he would be touching her—the scent of honey drifting from him with increasing potency.

Her nose crinkled as though she smelled something distasteful, but her nipples were already pearled for him, pretty and perfect against her clothing. “What
is
that smell?”

“Arousal,” he said, seeing no reason to deny it. He hadn't smelled the lust-craze, which was far more pungent than his fight-craze, in so long he'd despaired of ever smelling it again. Right now, he reveled in it. “Do not try to pretend it displeases you.” Not while he could see the rosy flush of her cheeks.

Macy's lush mouth floundered open and closed, and her hands shook. “Arousal makes a man burn, yes? Well, I'll show you something else that burns.” Using her thumb, she changed the setting of the pyre-gun and fired at him. Just as before, he grinned and sidestepped the beam—a yellow beam this time, which meant she was through trying to stun him and now wanted to fry him.

Swiftly he closed the distance, stopping mere inches from the barrel. “I believe I mentioned that I'm growing tired of this.”

She almost fell backward with the force of her gasp. “And I grow tired of telling you to stay back!” Another shot.

This time, close as he was, he wasn't quite fast enough to dodge. The yellow-gold flame singed his upper arm. “That
hurt.
”

“Really? I thought you liked to burn.”

The scent of honey should have dissipated as that small patch of skin blistered and sizzled. It didn't. In fact, it only seemed to increase. That he desired her enough to emit the telltale perfume despite being injured was baffling. Even with his two-year abstinence, which blew his “I'm just desperate” theory.

How was she drawing more desire from him than any other female ever had?

She wasn't (naturally) golden, as he would have preferred. She wasn't biddable, as he was used to. Being perplexed by her, even enchanted, he understood. She was a novelty. But this much desire? Just then Breean suspected he would have wanted her even if he were sated.

Quite simply, she tempted him on every level.

In theory—he was full of those today—he could have disarmed her, and had her on the ground, penetrated, before she even realized what was happening, the lust-scent making her want it despite everything around her. While some part of him would have enjoyed that, because God knew, he was a man, the rest of him knew that her willing, wholehearted participation would be a thousand times sweeter. The hardest battles, he'd come to learn, elicited the most gratifying victories.

“You're surrounded, Macy. Drop the weapons and admit defeat. No one is going to hurt you.”

“I'll admit defeat when I'm dead. How's that?”

“I'm afraid I cannot grant your request. Your death would disrupt my plans for you.”

Her cheeks drained of color, and she lost some of her bravado. “W-what plans?”

Rather than answer her, he tilted his head to the side and regarded her intently, drinking in her sparkling blue eyes with that hint of green and remembering the way she'd moved only a few minutes before. “What planet do you hail from?”

Undiluted panic flooded her expression. Breath rasped from her, so loud in the ensuing silence that the sound of it scratched at his ears.

“I'm from here.” She fired. “I'm from Earth.”

He ducked. The ocher stream glided straight through the top outline of his essence, which had been left behind by his swiftness. “Liar.”

“I am!”

“You say that after everything I've witnessed?”

“Yes.” Fire.

Duck. Finally he cut through the rest of her personal space, nothing between them but a whisper. He might not want to force her, but he would have to subdue her before she ran or injured him further. “A human could not change faces and bodies as you do.”

“What I am doesn't matter.” Just as before, she backed away. Her bottom lip quivered, and tears suddenly glinted in her eyes, crystalline pools of pain, sorrow, and intensified fear. “Now, let the agents go and leave this planet! Please.”

Were those tears real or fake? Either way, he actually experienced a desire to wrap his arms around her and . . . comfort her? Comfort a woman shooting at him? Strangely enough, yes. Desire truly did screw with a man's common sense.

There had to be a way to stop those tears, disarm her,
and
get that sweet body under him as quickly as possible, all without using physical brawn. He'd mentioned negotiating earlier. She hadn't seemed interested, but then, they hadn't been discussing her friends.

“Do you wish to bargain for the lives of your fellow agents?”

She stilled, though she didn't lower the weapons. The tears dried, at least. “B-bargain? What is it you want from me? What do I have that you could want?”

“I thought I had made that clear. I want
you
.”

For several drags of time, she did nothing. Gave no reaction to his words. No matter her response, he had no plans to kill the agents. They were to be tickets allowing his men to freely roam Earth. He would trade a life for a life. An agent for a Rakan. And if AIR proved dishonorable, attacking after agreeing to such a trade, well, they alone would be responsible for the war that erupted. All he desired was peace for his men. Peace and a new, disease-free life.

Macy couldn't know that, and he didn't mind letting her think she was the cause of his benevolence. If mercy was what she found attractive, merciful he would seem to be.

Too eager, though, he would not be. That would lessen his power. His years negotiating fair prices for his fish had taught him that. “My offer will end in three seconds,” he said. “One. Two.”

“Three. My answer is no. I'll free them myself.”

That intense look of concentration descended over her features again. He tensed, knowing what was coming this time. As her appearance changed from woman to Breean, from humanoid to Rakan, he kicked into hyperdrive. But she quickly gained her bearings and raced to the far edge of the clearing before he could catch her.

Their eyes met in a moment of charged electricity. In challenge. Then, she disappeared again. He was standing in the exact spot she'd vacated a split second later. As his spirit caught up to his body, he looked for her. Spotted her just ahead. Cursed and leapt forward. She might actually be better at this than he was.

She was rushing around the group of agents, trying to uncuff and wake them, and when that didn't work, drag them away. He was there in the next instant, right beside her and gripping her arm, doing his best to contain her without bruising her. Gasping, she jerked from his hold and disappeared.

When he next spotted her, she was darting through the trees, racing away. “Take the prisoners to the dungeon,” he flung over his shoulder to his men, then gave chase. He still didn't understand how the AIR agents had known they would be arriving this night, but it didn't really matter. He'd planned to hunt down a few after he settled in, and now he wouldn't have to. Now he could simply begin the negotiations. After he caught Macy, that is.