Undaunted (Battle Born Book 6) (7 page)

She reached toward him then lowered her arm without making contact. “Can we roll this back to where we were both excited about what you’d learned?”

“Of course.” His gaze finally returned to her face and he released his hands, allowing his arms to hang loosely at his sides.

They were within sight of the big house now. All she had to do was cross the yard and hurry inside. Despite his sensual threats, Garin was a gentleman. If she truly wanted to be left alone, he’d let her go. But she didn’t want their evening to end with this tension crackling between them. “Did the analysis explain why I’m able to shift? It’s not a common ability among Tandori Tribe. In fact, my grandmother was the only other person I’ve known who could change her shape.”

He moved a bit closer as he shook his head. “The geneticist who did the analysis wasn’t able to explain the anomaly.”

“But there is something in my DNA that’s not quite right?”

Again, he shook his head and his hands fisted at his sides. “It’s not a matter of right and wrong. It’s just…not something he’d encountered before.”

She smiled, pleased by his effort, if not by the conclusion. “I’m a freak.” She shrugged, though she felt anything but indifferent. “I accepted it a long time ago.”

“You’re not a freak.” He closed the last distance between them and lightly placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re special, unique.”

Awareness jolted Berlynn, but not the pleasant sort Garin usually released. She stilled and turned her attention outward. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled and her canine-self growled in the back of her mind. As if responding to Garin’s statement, she let her shoes drop to the ground then rolled to the balls of her feet and placed her hands on either side of his neck. Then she drew his head down as she whispered, “We’re being watched.”

Garin brushed his lips against Berlynn’s as he reached down and released his flexblade from the bracket on his thigh. Until he understood the threat, he left the weapon in its compact dagger form. He wasn’t sure what she was sensing, but he had no intention of arguing about anything that might endanger her. With his free arm he drew her closer. “How many? Where?” he whispered the words in between light kisses.

“Two behind you. One to your right.”

Unwilling to risk Berlynn’s safety any longer, he eased her back then ordered, “Run!” as he shoved her toward the big house barely visible in the distance.

She continued in the direction he’d sent her, but only long enough to disentangle their bodies. Then she whipped her dress off over her head and shifted into a large, snarling timber wolf. Even having seen the transformation before, he was momentarily stunned by the spectacle. His distraction was all the opening the intruders needed.

Three dark figures rushed in from the darkness. Two clearly focused on Garin. The other attempted to drive off the wolf with a thick tree branch.

Garin adjusted his hold on the hilt of his flexblade and the weapon rotated, allowing him to sight down the flat of the blade. Though most often used as some sort of knife, flexblades could also fire energy pulses. He launched a pulse at the nearest assailant, but the man twisted, narrowly avoiding the blast.

Rotating sharply to the right, Garin shot the second assailant. The man wasn’t as fortunate as his companion. The pulse hit him in the gut and his entire body convulsed before he slumped to the ground.

A yelp drew Garin’s attention toward Berlynn, but years of discipline prevented him from looking. He couldn’t protect her if he was unconscious or dead. He kept his gaze fixed on the first assailant, who now studied him with insolent interest, a pulse pistol still clasped in his hand.

“Is the shifter your mate?”

The question shocked Garin. They were in the middle of a battle. Why was he pausing to chat? There had been no real conviction behind the attack. It was as if they’d felt obligated to go through the motions. “What do you want?”

Without putting his weapon down, the fool continued the conversation. “Quinton offered me a small fortune to capture you, but I’m not sure I want to now.”

Utterly confused, Garin risked a glance at Berlynn. She watched her attacker closely, hackles raised, but her attacker was staring at the chatty intruder as if he’d lost his mind.

“Then leave now, so I won’t have to kill you,” Garin advised, his flexblade still aimed at the intruder’s chest.

The talker slowly reached back and tucked his pulse pistol into the waistband of his pants. “Is it true?” He ordered his companion to back off. The man tossed aside the branch he’d been swinging like a club, and slipped his pulse pistol back into the holster at his waist. Then he went to check on their unconscious friend.

“Is what true?” They hadn’t technically disarmed. Each could easily grab his weapon again.

“Have you found a way to unlock our magic?”

Garin narrowed his gaze on the intruder’s face. Moonlight filtered through the leafy trees, creating an impression of strength and menace, but details were lost in the shadows. His hair was unusually long, well past his shoulders. The front section had been woven into multiple braids, each decorated with some sort of beads. He wore a plain black tunic, belted at the waist and woven leather pants tucked into lace-up boots. He spoke Rodyte like a native, but he looked Bilarrian. Still, there was something about him that seemed familiar. “Who are you?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t remember me, but I am disappointed.”

“That didn’t answer the question.”

“Neither did you,” the familiar stranger pointed out. “Can you unlock our magic or is that just what you’re attempting to do?”

“You’re battle born?”

He grinned, teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “You have a really bad habit of answering questions with questions.”

“I still haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to shoot you. My unwillingness to answer your questions is the least of your concerns.”

“Fair enough, but watch your back. Quinton wants you back on Rodymia badly.” Giving Garin plenty of space, he moved over to his fallen friend and tried to rouse him.

“He’ll probably be out for a couple of hours,” Garin warned. “The pulse overloads the central nervous system. It’s effective, and extremely painful, but not damaging.”

Berlynn suddenly turned in a half circle and picked up her dress with her teeth. Then she darted into the trees.

“I’ve never seen a shapeshifter before,” the less chatty brigand said. “She’s really something.”

“She’s really none of your business.” Garin emphasized the warning with a glare. “Take your friend and go.”

“Then she is your mate.” The chatty one nodded. “I thought so.”

Suddenly an image materialized in Garin’s mind. He saw a young officer with a cocky smile and shimmering gold phitons. “Dravon? Rex Dravon?”

The intruder laughed. “So I’m not completely forgettable after all.”

Garin deactivated his flexblade and slipped it back into the bracket on his thigh. “Last I heard, you were on your way to one of the penal colonies.”

Dravon shrugged. “Decided I’d rather be an outlaw than a prisoner, which makes infinitely more sense than walking away from your career. You had it all, sir. What made you decide to champion the battle born?”

“The
Venture,”
Garin admitted.
“
Over nine hundred battle born soldiers died in that explosion and the elite shrugged it off as if it were nothing. They were more concerned with losing the ship than the crew.”

They lapsed into silence as Garin stared at the stranger before him, trying to find the idealistic officer who had briefly served aboard the
Undaunted
.

“Don’t let them leave,” Berlynn called from the darkness, then a moment later she rushed into view, once again human and covered by the flowing dress. “How did you find us?”

Dravon’s appreciative gaze lingered a moment too long on her willowy form. Garin moved forward with a snarl.

“Sorry, sir, but that’s one fine-looking female.” His smile was completely unrepentant.

Technically, Garin didn’t yet have a claim to Berlynn. Already his scent was fading from her skin. He’d have to do something about that as soon as he got rid of their uninvited guests. Which brought his thoughts back to Berlynn’s question. “How did you find us?” Garin prompted.

“The disadvantage of your energy net is every time a
Phantom
leaves Lunar Nine, it’s visible for just a second. We locked on to the modulating transponder signal and we’ve been tagging along ever since.”

Garin grimaced. He’d used the same trick to find a stealth ship not that long ago. It really had been too much to think that the battle born were the only ones who knew the secret. But how had Dravon been able to “tag along” for the past few days without being detected by the
Phantom
? “Your ship has a covert shield generator?”

He nodded. “I’ve done a lot of work for the Integration Guild.”

“Of course you have.” Only Quinton and the Integration Guild could afford top-tier mercenaries, and the IG frequently rewarded their allies with cutting-edge technology as well as credits. Why would a smart merc go anywhere else? At least in their star system.

Dravon turned back to his companions, going down to one knee as he helped maneuver the unconscious man.

“And the answer to your original question is, yes. We’ve figured out a way to unlock your magic.”

Still on his knee, Dravon pivoted so he could see Garin. “How?”

Garin laughed, energized by the unexpected turn of events. He’d always liked Dravon, had genuinely hoped he could find an environment in which to thrive. Apparently, he’d found a home. It had just been beyond the structure of the Rodyte military. “You’d have to join the rebellion to find out.”

For a long, silent moment, Dravon stared back at him. Moonlight bathed his face, allowing Garin a clearer view of his onetime acquaintance. It had only been two years since Garin last saw him, but Rex looked older and harder, much more the outlaw he was now.

When Rex Dravon served aboard the
Undaunted
, he’d been filled with ambition and potential, but he was mouthy and had trouble following orders without question. Hoping Dravon would benefit from the less structured environment aboard a small, long-range transport, Garin had transferred him to a supply ship that served outlying outposts. Unfortunately, the strategy had backfired and the next Garin heard of Rex, he was on his way to a penal mine for a shocking variety of charges.

Dravon shook his head, breaking the tense silence. “As you’re well aware, I don’t play well with others.”

“Will Quinton send someone after you when he learns your mission failed?” Berlynn’s question drew Garin more solidly into the present.

With a characteristic shrug, Dravon turned back to his companions. “I’m pretty sure he has bigger fish to fry.” Working together, the two would-be abductors draped their comrade’s arms across their shoulders and heaved him to his feet. “But Quinton won’t stop. He’ll keep sending people after you until one of them accomplishes the task.”

“Which is to capture not kill?” Berlynn asked as she moved closer to Garin’s side.

“For now.” Dravon’s lazy smile turned rakish as he looked at Berlynn. “If the abductors keep failing, however, he’ll send an assassin.” She didn’t reply, so he added, “It’s been fun.”

Some inner instinct urged Garin to try one last time. “I’ll leave your name with security in case you change your mind.”

“It’s unlikely, but I appreciate the offer.”

Speculation narrowed Garin’s gaze as Rex Dravon and his men disappeared into the night.

“Are you sure it’s wise just to let him go?” Berlynn’s voice was soft and hesitant as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of the strange events. “He did try to capture you.”

“Barely.” Garin looked at her and smiled. “It was obvious from the start that his heart wasn’t in it.”

“Then why try at all? If he had no intention of going through with it, why was he here tonight?”

“If he’s been following us around for the past few days, he was probably confused as hell’s rings.” He reached down and slipped his hand around hers, intertwining their fingers. “He was clearly interested in the transformation program. I think he just wanted to hear from me that it was real not rumor.”

“But he has a ship that can track the
Phantoms
,” she pointed out. “What if he tries again?”

“He’ll be back, but it won’t be to harm me. Dravon’s already a rebel. He just hasn’t accepted it yet.”

Something in the statement caused her to tense. She drew her hand away and took a step back. “Do you know everyone better than they know themselves?”

Here we go again.
Whenever she felt insecure, she went on the offensive. It was totally irrational, yet strangely endearing. He’d tried being patient, demonstrating his interest without using their natural chemistry to influence her. Then he’d unleashed that chemistry, let her feel how hot the fire would burn once she surrendered. He wasn’t sure what else he could do to earn her trust. “There was no need to read between Dravon’s lines. The first question out of his mouth was whether or not you were available. The second was asking if we could free his magic. He wants a mate and he wants control of his magic. What more do we need to know? He has skills that can benefit the rebellion and we have something we can use to motivate him to cooperate.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“That’s understandable.” Suspecting she would twist his words, he said nothing else. Instead, he recaptured her hand, scooped up her shoes and walked her across Rachel’s backyard.

They’d climbed to the deck and his hand was on the handle to the sliding glass door when she finally broke the silence. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

He pushed his fingers into her hair and tilted her face up with his thumb. “I’m not angry and I’m not punishing you, but I can’t be alone with you unless you’re ready to let me mark you. I want you too badly to pretend you’re not my mate. If I take you upstairs, I’ll use every trick I know to bend you to my will.” He let his hand trail down her neck and settle on her shoulder. “And I know that’s not what you want.”

She lowered her gaze with a sigh. “I don’t know what I want.”

“And that’s why we’re saying good night here.” He bent and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Her lips started to part, but he pulled away, not willing to torture himself any further. “Rachel has your overnight bag. I’ll see you in the morning.” His entire body ached with regret as he turned and walked away.

* * * * *

Quinton Keire stretched his arms and arched his back without bothering to open his eyes. After the disconcerting conversation with Guild Master Lont the night before, he’d summoned three of his most energetic concubines and indulged his sexual appetites until exhaustion claimed him. He felt a slight weight across his belly and something soft against his cheek. Damn. They were still here. He hated the awkwardness that inevitably accompanied waking up with females, so he generally sent them away before he fell asleep.