Temptress (14 page)

Sadly, DynaGirl didn’t seem to be in the mood to play.

“What did you take?” she demanded. The very proper Miss Powers was like a freaking terrier when she set her mind to something. She shoved hard on his shoulder, rolling them over so she knelt straddling his stomach. He let her be on top. For now. Her gaze flicked down his body, searching for a spot he could’ve stashed the papers. “What did you go back for?”

Lucien kept half an ear out for the sound of the next train and conjured up a lazy grin. He let his gaze linger on the way the dark, stretchy fabric of her supersuit cupped the curve of her breasts. “Would you like to frisk me? Cuz I know I’d like it.”

“Knock it off. You’re caught. Give it up.”

“I’m caught, am I? How are you planning to get me back to that lovely holding cell? Flying didn’t work out so well for you last time.”

She reached to the belt on her hip, pulled out a phone, swiped a thumb across the touchpad without looking and held it up to her ear with a smugly triumphant smirk. A smirk which faded as she pulled it away from her ear to glare at the uncooperative device.

“No service?” he purred.

Thank God for the crappy reception of subway tunnels. His abilities were too far blown to handle the cavalry right now.

“I’ll fly you there if I have to,” DynaGirl declared, but the first waver of doubt edged her tone.

Supers could do superhuman things—hence the name—but there was only so far they could push themselves before they crashed with a power hangover that would bring the gods to their knees. Lucien was inches from his own breaking point and, from the tremor in her voice, it sounded like his tenacious little sex kitten of a nemesis was right there with him.

Which meant she was vulnerable. He just needed one more sprint. He could last a few more seconds before his brain exploded into white-hot agony. He had to. For Mirabelle.

He heard the distant electrical whine of a train coming down the tracks. Three minutes, give or take…

Lucien let the icy-hot pain starting to spike in his temples show on his face. “I could come quietly,” he said, making his voice tight with strain. “For a price.”

“I don’t negotiate with supervillains.”

“Not even for my surrender? My
complete
surrender.”

Interest lit her up-tilted emerald eyes, but her jaw remained clenched in an unyielding line. “No deals. I won’t bribe you to play nice when you’ve already lost.”

“But all I wanted was a kiss.”

She went motionless above him, as if she’d forgotten the need to breathe.

“One little kiss,” he purred. “And I’ll go meekly to my jail cell. No tricks. No trouble.”

He couldn’t read her expression. Something odd and almost hopeful colored the suspicion in her gaze. She hesitated. The train rattled closer. Her fingers eased their death grip on his hair.

“Why?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a shot at the great Darla Powers. Who hasn’t? That
Maxim
spread changed my life.”

Her eyes darkened. “That damn magazine—”

“Hey, don’t damn that magazine. I could compose sonnets to that magazine. Especially your issue. I think you single-handedly launched a generation of twelve-year-old boys into puberty with that spread.” The picture had become a cultural icon. Darla Powers, the super answer to Marilyn Monroe. “Tell me you still have the bustier and I’ll die happy.”

She blushed. “That is none of your business.”

Dear God, she still has it.
Unwholesome interest stirred below Lucien’s belt. He’d been joking, but now he couldn’t get the image out of his head. Her incredible figure overflowing the snug black lace with a shimmering red D curled under one breast in a parody of her suit. Maybe she still wore it. Maybe she put it on for the schmuck boyfriend who’d let her walk out on their date. Jealousy gave his gut an ugly twist, but he ignored it. She wasn’t with her schmuck boyfriend now.

“One kiss,” he said, the words coming out as more of a demand than he’d intended, his voice so dark and hungry he barely recognized it. “One kiss and I’ll do whatever you want.”

The words were supposed to be a lie, but at the moment he almost believed them himself. Darla Powers was a woman who could own a man’s soul if she put her mind to it. If she could let herself be that bad…

She leaned over him, and he sank his hand into the curls at the base of her skull. “C’mon, princess,” he coaxed, his gaze locked on her pillowy lips. “Even good girls get to be bad sometimes.”

She went rigid in his arms. “No. We don’t.”

The train was nearly there now.
Ten seconds…
Darla began to resist his hold, but Lucien had run out of time for persuasion.
Now or never
.

He sat up and twisted abruptly, using a pulse of superspeed to get her sprawled on her back before she realized negotiations were over. He caught her startled gasp on his lips.

The kiss was a sneak attack—quick and fierce and designed to startle and unsettle her. It wasn’t supposed to sear across his nerve endings with unexpected heat. He wasn’t supposed to be tempted to fall into the taste of her and abandon his will to fight. Soft, warm, luscious—the definition of a dangerous woman.

Her hands fell away from his hair, shoving at his shoulders without any real strength as she made the most deliciously wanton noise in her throat.

In a different world, he would stay here and finish what they’d started, explore this incendiary chemistry, coax that sound from her again and again. But she was still a hero and he’d long since been cast in the villain role. If he wanted any future for his sister, he couldn’t waste time playing doctor with DynaGirl.

The first train car thundered into the abandoned station.

He threw himself off her. “Sorry, princess.” The last of his reserves went into a surge of superspeed as he leapt onto the tracks and sprinted down the tunnel in front of the engine. The racing train sealed the tunnel entrance behind him before DynaGirl could gather herself to follow.

He didn’t have time to thrill at the victory of escape. He was too busy trying to maintain his speed until he reached the next platform so he didn’t end up a bloody smear on the tracks.

Lucien ran, his head slowly exploding, the stolen papers crinkling in his pocket with the sound of success, Darla’s taste still sweet on his lips.

Fight alone, die alone.

Heroes Without, Monsters Within

© 2012 Sheryl Nantus

Blaze of Glory, Book 2

In the weeks since Jo “Surf” Tanis and her rough-and-tumble band of super-powered actors broke free of the government-sponsored superhero show, they’re all still dealing with the aftershock of adjusting to this thing called reality.

It doesn’t get much more real than a mission to dig survivors out of what’s left of Erie, PA after a mysterious earthquake. A trembler that powerful is as out of place as Jo feels as the de-facto leader of the troupe. Not to mention the soul-shaking feelings she has for Hunter, a team member whose past as an Agency Guardian casts a heavy shadow over any possible relationship.

It seems one of the supers, an earth-warper named Ground Pounder, has gone rogue, using his freedom from the Agency’s brand of virtual slavery to put the “villain” back in supervillain. Failure to find him before any more innocent bystanders are hurt means the team could be back under the Agency’s thumb.

It’s a burden that doesn’t rest easy on Jo’s shoulders...especially when the man who’s invaded her heart is caught in the crossfire.

Warning: Contains kick-ass super women, super men and a budding romance ready to go into orbit. Also, gambling and Las Vegas buffets!

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Heroes Without, Monsters Within:

“Steve,” I yelled. “Protect the civilians.” I stayed in the air, not daring to let my feet touch the ground. Something was wrong with this attack. This was beyond what Lamarr could do. I just had to survive long enough to figure out what was going on.

“Yes, civilians.” Lamarr chortled. “Can’t let the little people get hurt now, can we?” He looked to one side and flicked his fingers. One of the large steel towers holding up part of the mammoth canopy overhead shifted, the bricks around the bottom of the support bursting like popped balloons.

“Son of a bitch.” I fired off double bolts from my hand as I charged the punk, alternating my shots. One electric bolt shattered the ground just in front of Lamarr, forcing him to stand up and retreat a step.

Steve leapt to his left, landing at the base of the support tower. He wrapped his mammoth arms around it and let out a rumbling groan as he embraced the tilting steel. The silver veins on his arms stretched and twisted, flowing over his skin with the neon lights bouncing off them.

A shout went out, a series of yelps. No, howls. I looked to my left to see a pack of mangy sandy-colored coyotes charging towards Lamarr, their yellowed teeth bared. They leapt up as I laid down another series of blasts, trying to cut off any retreat for the super without shooting the animals. Just one hit would affect him like a taser, short-circuiting his body and dropping the little bastard like a stone.

Of course, I had to hit him first. I swayed sideways, buffeted by strong gusts of wind that couldn’t be natural. It felt like being drunk and trying to shoot the target with the broken popgun at the carnival.

Steve groaned again as he pushed the leaning support down, jamming it past the original cement base. It wobbled for a second before steadying itself. It wasn’t a great solution, but it bought enough time for the rest of the civilians to get out of the way.

Lamarr crouched and pressed his right hand to the ground. A jerk of a finger yanked a stone wall out of the tiles to stop the coyote pack in mid-jump, the poor animals slamming into the barrier at full run. They fell in a dazed heap. One got to his feet and shook his head from side to side, mimicking my inner thoughts. A second later the coyote flew to the right and smashed into a display booth. Glass dragons and tigers crashed and shattered, the tinkling noise of broken glass adding to the mayhem.

Lamarr stood up and looked at me, a sneer on his lips.

“My ride’s here and my job’s done. Later.”

A roaring filled my ears. I spun around to see a small twister, a whirlwind racing down the center of Fremont Street towards me. It snatched up the vending carts, the loose billboards advertising CHEAP BLACKJACK, and garbage cans, whirling them around at a furious rate. Bits and pieces of debris crashed into the lit signs, poking out glass letters and sending sparks everywhere. The smell of burnt plastic grew as it continued its rampage.

“Steve.” I swooped down and grabbed the man’s right hand, pulling him up and away from the base of the pillar. The tower shuddered once but didn’t move. If we could get enough altitude and get clear of the buildings, we could avoid ramming the casinos. Steve had steel skin, but I knew I couldn’t take that sort of impact.

The raging winds slapped against me, making it hard to move upwards. I fought to stay in the center of the street, giving it all I had to avoid falling.

“What is that?” Steve yelled over the rising din.

“I don’t know.” I spotted the coyotes running away in all directions. Some limped and others were bleeding, but no bodies were left behind. I couldn’t imagine how guilty Peter would feel if some of them died.

Lamarr just stood there with an arrogant smirk on his face.

“He’s got something to do with this,” Steve said. His hand tightened around mine, almost painfully so. “Toss me at the little bastard.”

I nodded. We’d discussed this move before but hadn’t even practiced it, leaving it to later. Except that later was now, and there was no room for error. I fought to move forward and get closer to Lamarr. Steve swung at the end of my grip, readying himself to drop like a meteor on the super.

Lamarr glanced up at the approaching whirlwind with a look of reverence on his face. I lifted my other hand, preparing to take a shot at the grinning fool as I readied myself to release Steve.

Something caught me around the waist, a light soft touch that tightened to the point of pain, stopping me in midair. I gasped as I jerked to a stop, calling on my last reserves of strength to stay airborne. Steve hung below me, still clutching my hand.

“Son of a…” Steve exhaled as the unknown force turned us both to face the oncoming storm.

A figure materialized at the center of the spiraling debris, staring at us. She couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, if that. Tall, blonde and obviously able to manipulate air. Her face spiraled through a series of emotions—fear, panic and for an instant I saw utter confusion make a showing.

I had no idea who she was.

Except that she was a super and not on our side.

My stomach did a flip-flop, threatening to return the creampuff et al in force.

The invisible rope around my waist shifted upward, pushing on my chest. It tightened and started to spin us, quick and fast. I remembered going through something like this before, skating on the local rink and being at the end of a long, long line of skaters, going faster and faster until the momentum snapped me off and away into the boards with bone-crushing force.