Deep Kiss of Winter (33 page)

Surprisingly, he stilled at the sound of her voice. Except for his eyes. Those trekked over her, hot and blistering, as if she were his property, already naked and begging for his touch. Goose bumps broke out over her skin; her mouth dried.

“One more step, and I'll shoot.” Trembling, she raised her gun until she had a direct shot at his groin. Men tended to agree to anything when their dicks were threatened. “Let's talk about this. Maybe we can work something out. Why are you here? What do you want?”
Come on, Mia
.

Slowly he grinned, silently promising that he'd do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Clearly there would be no chatting. Bastard. She squeezed the trigger. Just like the others had done, he darted away from the azure beam as if it were nothing more than a pesky insect.

A second later, he was in front of her, appearing in the blink of an eye and towering over her. She gasped in surprise as heat radiated off him and enveloped her. Heat and that honey smell. Her nipples beaded again, reaching for him, and her stomach fluttered. The need for him to strip her, to slide inside of her, was potent, heady, part of her wanting to drop to her knees and beg him for it.

Who are you?
she wondered, dazed. In fact, the urges were so unlike her, common sense easily fought its way to the surface.
Kill him. Now. End this!
Mia had
told them not to kill, yes, but Mia wasn't here. At this rate, Aleaha would be dead before backup arrived.

“I told you I'd shoot you, and I never lie.” Of course, that was a lie. Her entire life was a lie. This, however, she would do. “I mean it! Back away or I start firing.”

He remained in place. “Shooting has not been favorable for you so far, has it?”

“There's a first time for everything.”

“I agree. Like the first time I disarm you.”

Before she could act, he knocked the gun from her hand. It clattered to the ground, out of reach, and he purred silkily, all kinds of erotic in the undertones. “What do you plan to shoot me with, my female?”

Instant, searing arousal. That's what Breean Nu, now leader of the Rakan army, had experienced when he first heard the woman's raspy voice drift through his fight-craze. When his gaze had landed on her, bathed in moonlight as she'd been, that arousal had only intensified and, foolishly, he'd lost sight of everything but her. Understandable, considering his past.

He'd seen, and he'd wanted. Desperately.

He'd whisked himself to her with every intention
of claiming her as his own, for every warlord deserved a prize after a victory. He was a warlord, he had won, so
she
would be his prize. Even now,
especially
now, blood roared through him, hot, hungry. And not for more fighting. For every inch of her.

“Mine,” he said again. The females of Raka had been decimated by plague after aliens began sneaking onto their planet several years ago. Those females had then begun to eat the men. Eat, as in meals. Having never encountered disease before, the Rakans had been at a loss, not knowing what to do or how to help. And then it had been too late. So many had died, hardly anyone had been left.

Trembling, his prize jerked her wrist from his hold and backed away from him. One step, two. Oh, there would be none of that. Too much did he enjoy being near her.

“Stop,” he said, as she'd said to him a moment ago.

She raised her chin, stubborn, and kept moving. “Don't think so.”

A refusal? From a war prize? He'd never owned one before, only knew that other soldiers on other planets often kept them as slaves. And slaves were to do as they were told. He would just have to instruct her.

Although, to be honest, Breean had never thought to find himself in this type of situation. He'd been a simple fisherman and Raka, as peaceful as the planet had been, had never had to utilize its royal army. Most citizens had obeyed the king without question, and otherworlders had never been allowed to enter
their land. Until the Schön came in secret. Until the Schön destroyed them, infecting the women who then took out the soldiers and everyone else.

At the time, Breean had been living on the seas that cover most of Raka, the sole provider for his mother and sisters. He'd returned one day to find them dying, and thousands of others already dead, for once the females had lost their food supply, they'd turned on each other. So he'd gathered what uninfected survivors he could and they'd started fighting back, driving the Schön away.

The experience had changed them. They were not the innocent, naive men they'd once been. They were harder, meaner, utterly unforgiving. And that's the way they had to stay.

“I told you to stop, female.” There was no room for compromise in his tone. “You will obey. I am your master.”

“How cute. The big boy thinks he's in charge.” She whipped out another pyre-gun from the holster at her side. He'd never actually seen one until tonight, but he'd seen pictures and knew what to expect from them. In the other hand, she held a knife. With knives, he was already intimately acquainted. “Now back off.”

War prize or not, she should have responded to his scent by now. “Come to me,” he said, just to see what she'd do. “Touch me.” Since building his own army, he was used to having his every command obeyed.

She shook her head, continuing her slow backward journey. Her eyes were large, luminous, and
crystalline, swirling with flecks of silver and cerulean. Underneath her cap, her hair was pale. Her nose was dainty, her cheeks rounded. But something about her was . . . wrong. The more he studied her, the more it seemed as if
another
face lurked underneath the first. A face with wider-set
green
eyes. A more aristocratic nose. Slimmer cheeks.
Dark
hair.

All together, that packaging was not as pretty. And yet it was more erotic, more sensual. The lips were more lush, redder, and made for sucking. The hair was silkier, and he could easily imagine the dark strands fisted in his hand while he pumped in and out of that delectable body.

She wasn't the reason for such strong, instantaneous fantasies, though. Any female would have triggered the same response. It had just been so long since he'd known pleasure, so damned long. He missed sex more than he would have missed an arm.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she snarled. She glanced behind her as if searching for someone else. Her shoulders slouched in confusion when she spied no one. When she faced him, she must have realized he'd inched closer because she yelped. “Get back!”

Breean didn't know what to make of this woman. Not the dual faces, and certainly not the fact that she seemed to be immune to him in every way. Granted, he hadn't been around a woman in two years, but surely he was still capable of seducing one. And what had happened to his determination to force a slave to his will?

Drop the weapons and touch me, little human.
Or was she alien? He frowned, not liking that he didn't know. Actually, there was a lot he didn't know and the answers were far more important than his hunger. “How did AIR know we were coming?” He'd visited several times in secret, hadn't talked to anyone, and had remained in the shadows. Still. They could have seen him, he supposed. But why not attack before now?

“They were good people,” she said angrily, ignoring him, once again backing away. “You shouldn't have hurt them.”

“
We
are good people.” He stepped toward her just as slowly. “Those agents should not have tried to hurt
us
.”

She swallowed. “Our guns were set on stun, not kill. You and yours, however, killed, so excuse me for not agreeing that you are good. And how many times do I have to say this? Don't you dare come any closer!”

“The warrior who killed those agents will be punished, believe me.” In a movement so quick no eye could see it, Breean swooped in and slapped the second gun out of her hand. “Now, there will be no more shooting from you.”

Shock settled over her lovely dual-features. He didn't give her time to threaten him with the knife. He simply snatched the blade out of her hand, studied its serrated tip in the moonlight, and sheathed it at his back. Could be useful.

Her mouth hung open in furious disbelief, revealing perfect white teeth that were a little sharper than
those he'd seen from the other humans he'd encountered. Her kiss would have bite.

His cock twitched in reaction to the thought, and he frowned again. Biting was no longer allowed among his people. A rule he'd instigated and a rule he would keep. Always. Anything that drew blood, the liquid poison that could very well carry thousands upon thousands of diseases, was now forbidden. Disobeying meant death.

He watched as she tossed another glance over her shoulder.

“Are there more agents out there?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

Which meant, yes, there were. With a tilt of his chin, he motioned for several of his soldiers to scour the area. Instantly they headed into the trees. Though they were dressed in black and clashed against the snowy backdrop, they moved liked midnight apparitions, barely noticeable.

“What is your name, female?”

Silent, she slid her gaze to the gun that lay several feet away on the ground. His remaining men stood in a semicircle around it, he noticed, arms crossed over their chests, waiting for his next order. The living agents sprawled behind them, already cuffed and gathered in an unconscious heap.

“I won't let you win,” she said, ignoring him. Again.

“But I already have. Your brethren are defeated. You are the last one standing.”

“That just means it's up to me to kick your ass.”

“I'll let you do many things to my ass, female, but kicking it isn't one of them.” He leaned into her, eating up the rest of the distance, in her face before she could blink. The fragrance of newly fallen snow and dark, mystic nights drifted from her, and he inhaled deeply, savoring. “I'll let you massage it. Caress it. Grip it while I pound inside of you.”

Her cheeks colored prettily, and she growled, “What about rip it to shreds?”

If she was half as passionate in bed as she was now in the face of danger, she would burn him alive. And, oh, he wanted to be burned. “If you ask nicely, yes,” he said honestly. “As long as you draw no blood.”

“Fuck you.”

“I hope so,” he replied as his men returned, shaking their heads. No one was out there, and there was no sign of anyone having been there. He relaxed.

His female was still choking out a breath. “Never,” she finally managed.

“Never is a long time. Perhaps we should negotiate.”

No reply. Instead, a look of intense concentration claimed her features. Her eyes narrowed, the blue somehow darkening, becoming . . . golden? Impossible. Yet as he watched, her body seemed to grow taller and more muscled, her clothing ripping to accommodate the new bulk. Within moments she was his exact height, her features realigned to match his.

He was gazing at his own face, he realized, mouth falling open in shock. The green-eyed temptress
was still underneath, still barely visible, but that didn't dampen the shock of seeing
himself
in place of the sweet-faced blonde.

“How did you do that?
What
did you do?”

She peered down at her hands. No—
his
hands. Turning them over, studying them. Big, golden, calloused. Reeling, he considered the rest of her. She no longer had breasts but was solid from head to toe. She even had a bulge between her—his—legs. A nice sized one, if he did say so himself.

“Will I be able to move like you, do you think?” she asked, more of herself than of him.

His
voice. She did not merely look like him, she now spoke with his voice. How was any of this possible?

Breean reached out to touch that familiar visage. What would he feel? Warmth? Cold? Surely this was an illusion. But just as his hand was about to make contact, the . . . whatever she was disappeared and his hand swiped only air.

He blinked. Confusion, anger, and more of that shock pounded through him. He glanced left, then right, but saw only the sway of trees and the swirl of snowflakes.

Brow furrowed, he wheeled and confronted his men. “Where did she—I—go?” More to the point,
how
had she gone? If she had always been able to move as swiftly as him, why had she not done so before now? If she hadn't, and this was as new a development as her appearance . . . damn. She might posses
all
of his strengths now. “Did you see her?”

Expressions as baffled as his must be, they searched the clearing for some sign of her.

From the corner of his eye, Breean caught a blur of movement, a flash of white and gold. That blur paused directly in front of the first pyre-gun he'd liberated from the woman. A second later, her—damn it,
his
—image solidified. She wobbled on her feet as though dizzy, weariness glinting over her still-masculine features. A frown pulled at her brow while she rubbed her temple with one hand and snatched up the weapon with the other.

He pounded toward her, intent. Sensing him, she looked up. Their gazes locked, gold against gold—and, thankfully, that hint of ethereal green. Sweat beaded her forehead, and she was panting. With fright? Fatigue? Or with the thrill of the chase?

A moment later, she grinned. Thrill of the chase, definitely, for that grin did not belong to a frightened female but to a taunting agent. Surprisingly, that aroused him all the more, this new challenge of her.

He didn't whisk to her, but stopped, continuing to watch her, curious about what this human—alien—would do next. What race could assume another's appearance, as well as another's abilities?

She threw an I'm-the-boss look at his men and barked, “Stay where you are. This is between the woman and me.”