Warrior (5 page)

Right through the heart.

“Fair. For a female,” Grogan judged.

She compared her results—dead center—with Grogan’s. He’d missed the middle completely, hitting outside the outline. Perhaps the weight of his erection had unbalanced his shot.

She marched to the starting line with Grogan dogging her heels, flinging advice as wild as his aim. She shot better than every male of the Resistance, but walked a precarious path, awakening each morn to wonder if
this
would be the day she would fall prey to her compatriots. To Grogan, who had singled her out for special
training
.

But joining the Guerilla Resistance against Qalin and Artom was preferable to facing what lay outside the camp. Anika shuddered.

After leaving Marlix’s abode, she’d roamed the countryside for a week before she’d straggled into the militia group attempting to defeat Qalin and Artom. Their secret weapon?

Breeders. No one would suspect a female of being an armed fighter.

But her instructor saw no reason to abandon the old use for females. Thus far she’d dodged him, but her luck and his patience could not last much longer.

“Many females can hit the target, but few have the strength you do to cock the bowstring. You are the best female shooter by far,” Grogan conceded, his praise falling short of recognizing her true ability.

“You have trained enough for one day. Let us retire to the camp,” Grogan said. “You may bring me the midday meal.” He peered at the sky. The star of Parseon hovered overhead, its heat barely reaching the atmosphere to edge the temperature over freezing. But the chill provided an excuse to layer on multiple articles of clothing. The inconvenience of removal had saved her on more than one occasion. Still, a clothing barrier offered scant protection. Some males—
Grogan
—viewed impediments as a challenge.

“I feel as though I need more practice.” She peered at him from beneath downcast lashes and slumped her shoulders in a pretense of self-effacement. “May I please try one more time?”

Usually the number of people milling around afforded opportunity to avoid or divert him.

But, today, the alphas had formed two teams and split up, one group hunting for small game, another sent on reconnaissance. The females had been ordered to forage for whatever they could find to replenish the dwindling food stores. Only she—by Grogan’s command—remained in camp.

She jabbed the crossbow nose onto the ground and stepped on the metal cocking stirrup.

“You have practiced enough for one day.” Temper edged his voice.

Anika pulled back the bowstring until it locked, extracted a bolt from the quiver, and slipped it into the flight groove. Cocked and loaded, the crossbow
had
to be fired, for it was too dangerous to leave a loaded weapon lying about. A bump or a jolt could discharge the projectile. She raised the crossbow to shoulder height, slipped her finger off the metal guard, and caressed the trigger.

“Did you hear what I said?” Grogan’s tone sharpened. “Look at me when I speak to you!”

She snapped a sharp pivot. Through the scope, the crosshairs formed a perfect X on his chest.

His eyes bulged in alarm, and he stumbled over his feet.

Even Grogan could not fail to hit a target at such close range.

“I heard what you said,” Anika replied before turning to the parchment target and pulling the trigger.
Th-th-thunk!
Her bolt landed next to the previous one. Dead center. Again. She lowered the weapon.

Grogan seized her arm in a bruising grip and yanked her around to face him. “Never point a loaded weapon at me! Do you understand?” He shook her.

Anika took stock of her instructor’s reddening complexion, the slight tremor of his body, the decreased bulge in his uniform pants. Satisfaction swelled, but she bowed her head. “I apologize, alpha. When you ordered me to look at you, I had no thought but to obey.”

Stars exploded under the impact of his fist. She would have fallen, except he caught her. He punched her again. She hit the frozen ground hard, and air whooshed from her lungs. Pain radiated from her left cheekbone as if the zygoma had been shattered. Grogan struck out with his foot, but she expected the kick, and rolled so his boot only kissed her ribs. The crossbow lay several meters away where it had flown out of her grip.

Grogan followed her gaze with a slight motion, as if to lunge for the weapon. A blur streaked in her periphery seconds before Grogan toppled onto his back, tackled by a large male wearing a dirty uniform. One of Qalin’s guards?

Anika could not see the attacker’s face, only Grogan’s, as the larger alpha rained a barrage of merciless blows upon it. Bones crunched. His nose shattered in a spray of blood.

Grogan’s screams would have brought defenders, except the camp was deserted. Would she be the next victim?

Anika scrambled for her crossbow. The limb on the front had been dented. The scope misaligned. How would she sight it? Fire it? Would her bolt veer off? In a panic, she required three tries to cock it. She fumbled an arrow into the groove.

Grogan had fallen silent, unmoving. The attack had been too sudden, too vicious to defend against.

The assailant rose to his feet.

With trembling hands, Anika lifted the crossbow as the attacker turned.

Chapter Five

“Urazi?” Anika gasped.

“Do you intend to shoot me?”

She set the weapon on the ground with care so it would not discharge, and then, with a squeal, catapulted herself at him. She hugged his neck, and overcome with joy and exuberance planted her lips to his hair-roughened face. Unexpectedly, he turned his head, causing her mouth brush over his.

They reared back to stare at each other, but then Urazi cupped the back of her head and placed his lips against hers.

The oddest quiver curled in her stomach. He pressed harder then touched her with his tongue. A kiss! The way Terrans did! Anika jerked in shock before leaning into him to experience more of the pleasant sensation, but, to her disappointment, he set her aside and grasped her chin to inspect her face. He probed gingerly, but she winced under his touch. “Nothing is broken,” he announced brusquely, “But you will be bruised.”

“What about you?” She studied his reddened, swollen knuckles, the skin split over one joint, and considered pressing her lips to the wound. What did it mean, this urge to use one’s mouth in such a manner?

Gray eyes blazed with an emotion she could not identify, but he released her, stepped back, and flexed his hand. “I am fine.”

She stared at the bloodied body. “Is Grogan dead?”

Urazi knelt and checked for a pulse against the alpha’s neck. “Yes.” He peered up at her. “Who is he to you? Has he used you?”

“Monto, no!” she gasped, not considering the alpha’s intentions pertinent. “Grogan is the leader of the Guerilla Resistance against Qalin and Artom, which I have joined,” she explained. Urazi’s eyes narrowed, and she added, “Grogan was training me and other breeders to fight.” Breeders could approach a sentry without arousing his suspicion then immobilize him, allowing male guerillas to storm the post and secure it. She thrust back her shoulders with defiant pride. She,
a female
, was capable of supporting the war effort in a productive way.

Urazi rose to his feet to examine the paper target. “You are an excellent sharpshooter, but winning a battle requires more than skill with a crossbow. You would not fare well in hand-to-hand combat.”

Anika shrugged. “If I have a crossbow, I will not need to engage in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Did it help you today?” Urazi strode to Grogan’s body, and yanked up his bloodied uniform shirt. Attached to the alpha’s nipple was an insignia ring. Urazi unclipped it and carried it over to her.

Anika stared. A single star. Province one. Qalin.

“You have joined with the enemy to strike against your own people? You would betray your Alpha? Your sibling?”

Qalin’s insignia lay in Urazi’s palm, damning, but untrue. So untrue. “No! How could you say that? The Resistance plans to strike against Qalin. Against Artom.”

Urazi tucked the star into his uniform pouch.

“But maybe Grogan is an infiltrator acting alone,” she argued, fighting against the insidious memories; the ease with which she’d been accepted into the camp when her comrades learned of her familiarity with both Marlix’s and Dak’s provinces; Grogan’s constant but subtle questions about locations. He’d asked if she’d ever encountered Marlix himself. At the time, she’d feigned ignorance of the latter, fearing they would send her back to him.

Anika clutched her throat. What if Urazi’s accusation was correct?

“If he were an ordinary alpha or beta, I might concede it possible. But he is—by your account—the leader. I do not believe in coincidence. I have been observing the camp. Neither Marlix nor Dak would have sent females into combat.

“The
Resistance
you are so proud to be a part of is using you as expendable cannon fodder.”

“That is not true! We are a band of citizens who wish to assist the effort.” She parroted what she’d been told.
Were
they being used simply as decoys to draw fire?

“The camp is too well supplied to be unassisted,” he said. “Scarcity has afflicted everyone. Have you not noticed your shelters are sturdy and impermeable to wind and icy rain? That you have an abundance of food?”

“Not so abundant. The males of the camp are hunting for game now.” But they always had flour for panna. They had eaten fish and rodents, but there had been an ongoing supply of dried, brined meat. Where had those consumables come from?

“Are you sure that’s where they are?” Urazi grabbed her crossbow. “This is not a weapon an alpha or beta would use to hunt game. This is a military crossbow.”

All plausibility of what she’d been told crumbled. Anika fell to her knees. “I did not know. I swear it. I never would have fought against my Alpha, against my family.” How easily she’d been duped.

Urazi sank to his haunches beside her. “We must leave as soon as possible. It will not serve us when the others return to find their leader has been killed.” He pulled her to her feet then took the crossbow. “We will need this.” He adjusted the misaligned scope and discharged the bolt before collecting the projectiles. Then he tore off the target and rolled it up.

“Why did you do that?” Anika asked.

“If they see the target, they will know you and Grogan were here. We should not give them a point from which to begin their search.” When he returned to her side, he asked, “How long will the members of the camp be gone?”

“Probably until after midday.” She guessed Grogan had planned to use her after she served him his meal. “I think we have a little time.”

“Let us collect supplies, but not tarry. We should log as many kilometers as we can before their return.”

Urazi hauled Grogan’s corpse by his ankles into the brush and then swept away the drag marks with a small, leafy limb from a tree. “Let us go.” He flung the branch into the foliage. As they marched to camp, Anika noticed a new confidence about Urazi—he walked like an alpha. Even a stained, bloody winter uniform could not hide the strength and power of his arms and legs, the width of his shoulders, his great height. Nearly as tall as Marlix who was
Alpha
, Urazi would tower over most males. Her stomach fluttered in the oddest way.

She peeked at his face. Her lips tingled as she remembered pressing her mouth to his skin. Parseon males did not allow hair to grow on their faces like Terran men did, but somehow the bristles of beard darkening his jaw suited him.

He intercepted her appraisal. “You are staring at me,” he said with more curiosity than chastisement, but Anika’s face heated.

She averted her eyes and focused on the encampment. Females did not gawk at males. But neither did Alpha Commanders war against each other or females learn to fight.

Expectation seemed to hover, and she realized he waited for her response.
You are
tall. How foolish she would sound to utter such a statement. That would be like saying his eyes were a tempestuous gray like the winter sky or his hair was a richer hue than the umber
acca
nut. Or that he strolled with the posture of a male in command. What would be the point of speaking the obvious?

Except, she hadn’t noticed before.

“You seem very much like an alpha,” she said.

“It is the uniform, and I have shorn my hair again.” He combed his fingers through the umber strands.

“It is not. Even unclothed, you would still seem alpha.” Anika clapped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. She’d contradicted a male
and
made a comment of a personal nature. Even worse, she had conjured a mental image of him unclothed and had begun tingling
down there
.

Why this should be so, she could not fathom. From her nocturnal visits, she’d learned his manhood was much larger than Jergan’s. So were his hands. Each one spanned an entire cheek when he spread her buttocks to avail himself of her body. Though everything about him was larger, he was much gentler and hurt her far less. Barely at all, in fact. And though she could not say she drew
pleasure
from being used, the manner in which he cried out her name in his gravelly voice as he discharged his essence into her anal passage did bring her a measure of satisfaction. She liked pleasing him, even if she did not find gratification in the act itself.

What was wrong with her? In that place where a baby would come out, she felt swollen and achy. She had the oddest impulse to press her hand between her legs and a stronger, stranger yearning for Urazi to place his hand there.

She did not dare look at him. Fortunately, they had reached the shelters.

With newfound knowledge, Anika scrutinized the bivouac, noting the organization and attention to functionality lacking in other camps she had encountered during her journey. She recognized now the scraps of sheet metal and tree branches of the shelters were façades, camouflaging the sturdiness of the structures. Sleep shelters lined the camp in neat rows, rather than a haphazard sprawl. They had structures for food preparation and serving, storage, and some other dwellings of a function unknown to her because females were forbidden to enter.