Night Raven II

by Lyssa Hart

  NIGHT RAVEN II:

  DARK SENTINEL

  BY

  Lyssa Hart

  ( c ) copyright Sept 2009 Kaitlyn O’Connor

  Cover art (c) copyright 2013 Jenny Dixon

  ISBN 978-1-60394-

  Smashwords Edition

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Chapter One

  Alexis was always nervous when she went into the examination room—especially when it was Hawk she was to examine. Hawk squad. And generally a nervous wreck when she came out again—especially, though not exclusively, when it was team Hawk she examined.

  She thought of it as had to—not because it was unpleasant in the sense that she found any one of the group repulsive, or distasteful to touch, but in the sense that they appealed to her—to all of her senses—in a way they certainly shouldn’t have.

  Because they were cyborgs.

  And in the sense that they were inarguably the most lethal specimens she had ever had to deal with.

  It bothered her, a lot, that she was so terrified of them and still drawn to them.

  She was afraid that she had discovered something about herself in that attraction that she would’ve preferred not to know existed.

  She didn’t know if it did or not. She hadn’t been forced into such a predicament before.

  But she did know that she wished herself a thousand miles away pretty much every day of her life—not because she hated being around them but because she hated that she was expected to treat them like machines—as if they felt nothing, no pain, no discomfort, no anger or resentment that they’d been poked and prodded and examined like—furniture—since first awareness.

  She wished she had a different job—any job—where she stood some chance of making a living without being forced to—basically torture her ‘specimens’.

  But she was stuck because she had nowhere to go and self destruction wasn’t a choice.

  And that was what quitting her job meant—not flourishing—surviving on government subsistence and producing slaves for the work machine—new taxpayers to replace those that had been lost and to pay for the government assistance that had paid for their conception and childhood.

  She didn’t want any part of that.

  It seemed more obscene than what she was forced to now—giving life to babies that hadn’t asked for it just so they could be miserable until they died.

  Maybe even worse than that, because she didn’t trust the company she was working for worth a damn. She didn’t want to know what they might decide to do to protect their investment. She was afraid that to know was a death warrant.

  Dismissing the thoughts that were only agitating her more, she took several long, deep breaths and let them out slowly, seeking calm, bracing herself the best she could for the ordeal.

  It was Hawk on the first chair, she discovered when she entered the room, and her heart just seemed to stumble over itself.

  He didn’t turn his head to look at her, but he drew in a deep breath that expanded his already impossibly broad chest and she knew he knew her scent, that he knew it was her without even looking.

  That was one of the things about the super soldiers she found most disturbing.

  One of those things she wasn’t actually supposed to know that she’d been trying really hard to forget she knew.

  A bloodhound had nothing on them when it came to zeroing in on their quarry with nothing but the scent to guide them.

  She had tried, really hard, not to think about the fact that she probably wasn’t safe anywhere if they were ever to go rogue.

  Supposedly that just wasn’t possible, but nobody with any sense at all truly believed that.

  But she assumed that was, in part, why they kept her around, why they made her run the tests.

  They thought she might be able to trip them up if it could be done.

  She was just guessing, of course.

  But there had been a disaster with the first batch—according to rumors. There had been some sort of mental breakdown.

  The company had done their utmost to hush it all up, clean up after themselves.

  But people had died and that was a hard one to sweep under the rug.

  Especially since they, the company, couldn’t afford to replace every scientist they had.

  They were the inventors. If the ‘problem’ could be fixed, it would have to be them who did it.

  And, of course, the people that just couldn’t keep it to themselves had disappeared one by one … until there were none—transferred, according to the company.

  Probably to the cemetery—at least there were whispers to that effect after a couple had had ‘accidents’.

  A new cemetery way out in no man’s lands.

  Alexis made the mistake of meeting Hawk’s gaze when she set her tray down. It was something she generally avoided—looking directly at them and most definitely making eye contact. She was fairly caught when she did. Part of that was the eyes themselves—hawk eyes. The other part, the most debilitating part, was the look in his eyes.

  His heart, according to the monitor, didn’t even spike a little.

  Hers couldn’t decide whether to stop altogether or runaway with her.

  She forced her lips to curl upward at the corners in a parody of a smile. “Hello Hawk.”

  Something flickered in his eyes.

  She dragged out her pad and scribbled a notation—does not seem to know how to respond to a greeting.

  She licked her dried lips.

  He followed the movement and a muscle, low in her belly, somewhere in the vicinity of Miss Alex, gulped.

  His heart spiked—once.

  “You would say hello back.”

  “If I wished to return the greeting.”

  She felt the blood leave her face and rush back. Frowning, she scribbled out the notation she’d made.

  “You didn’t … didn’t want to greet me?” she managed to ask.

  There was something in his eyes that time that told her she really didn’t want to know his feelings on the subject.

  “That’s ok,” she said quickly, managing a fleeting smile. “You don’t have to.”

  “I was not going to.”

  “Yes. Yes I gathered that.” She considered carefully before she asked the next question—one suggested by the men behind the glass that were watching. “Why?

  He tilted his head, but there was no real curiosity in his gaze. “I am a soldier. I greet with my weapon.” His gaze flickered down her length that time.

  Her body responded with another flutter of that damned muscle that twitched every time he looked at her like that. And when he met her gaze again, she thought she knew what ‘weapon’ he was referring to.

  Her nipples stood up and said ‘hello’.

  His hawk gaze didn’t miss it either.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ll just be right back. Excuse me.”

  She dashed from the room and didn’t stop until she reached the lady’s room. She was splashing water on her face to cool down when her colleague came to find her.

  “What is going on? Are you ill?”

  Alexis stopped and blinked at him, blinked away the water rolling down her face. “Uh … I just … uh … I felt a little faint. I didn’t want to faint in there.”

  He frowned. “Good thought. I don’t think it would be a good idea to show him that kind of weakness.”

  Alexis felt the blood leave her face. “Oh my god! I hadn’t even thought about that.”

  Th
anks, asshole! Like she hadn’t already been scared to death?

  * * * *

  It had taken Hawk longer to figure out they were sending the woman to him to test him than it should have. But then again, he supposed that had been the whole point of it.

  He had responded to her in a way he should not have or at least that they hadn’t expected and they didn’t like surprises.

  It pissed him off when he realized that, when he finally tumbled to the fact that he was within a hair’s breadth of being terminated as defective.

  Because he had forgotten in a moment of desire that he was not human and not allowed any of the things that humans enjoyed.

  He was a super soldier.

  He had been designed specifically to kill and destroy efficiently.

  That was his entire purpose—no more, no less.

  In truth, he had no idea why or how he had responded—unless it was the hawk contribution? They were living creatures. They mated.

  He was a cyborg—more machine than biological. He should not have had enough biological to react biologically and he supposed that was what made them uneasy.

  He didn’t tell them there was something about her scent, some chemical, that triggered mating impulses in him.

  Because he did not want them to take that away from him.

  Which was why it took him longer to figure out they were using her to trigger it than it should have.

  He’d given himself away.

  Even now they were trying to track down that segment of DNA they’d missed so that they could cut it out.

  He almost hated her for it.

  He thought.

  Except it wasn’t hate that he thought about when he thought of her.

  Or like, precisely, either.

  What he wanted to know before he gave into the urge to hate her was whether she was a party to it or not.

  He thought he should not doubt that she was.

  She worked for the company. She had chosen to do this and if that was the case, it seemed to follow that she might have been sent, the first time, but it had been her idea or acceptance that had made her continue to torment him.

  It was torture.

  He could not let his guard down even for a moment or he would slip up and reveal his desire for her and then he would be terminated or perhaps only chopped up—the offending DNA cut from him.

  He wasn’t even honestly certain of why he so desperately wanted to keep it when it had caused him so much torment, brought him nothing but misery.

  But he did and that was all that mattered at that point.

  Perhaps he would understand better—later—if they didn’t take it from him.

  It would’ve been easier if she hadn’t taunted him with it—that scent that drove him insane. But he had only to flash a hint of his desire and she released more—a cloud of it to torment him, to make it harder for him to focus on regulating his breath and heart rate.

  He was relieved when she abruptly left the room. It gave him a moment to collect himself, to get a better grip on the emotion roiling through him—that also should not be there.

  Except that she left the scent in her wake and he could not evade it.

  She was pale and shaky when she came back in.

  And that was the one reason he had found that he could not hate her, could not blame her for what she did to him.

  She did not seem immune to it herself.

  He couldn’t allow himself the luxury of thinking about it, but he had every intention of discovering how she felt about him when and if the chance ever presented itself.

  * * * *

  Alexis managed to pull herself together enough to go back—mainly because she turned off the earpiece so that ‘they’ couldn’t prompt her to ask any other probing questions.

  Because when he reacted, she responded. She couldn’t help it.

  She focused on taking the blood sample she was always instructed to take—wondering what it was they really thought they were going to find.

  As far as she knew, he wasn’t on any kind of drug. He had nanos to insure he was at peak condition at all times and that included the minute part of him that was biological and subject to disease—or could be.

  She didn’t get it, but she was low on the totem pole. She didn’t get to ask questions.

  There were times, though, when she just couldn’t convince herself that she was dealing with machines—as hard as she tried.

  Why would a machine react as he did to questions that shouldn’t have affected him at all?

  She’d thought that one of the scariest things about them was their lack of emotion—or at least any sign of it. They had AI. They were super strong and super intelligent. What had the company been thinking to give so much power to entities that had no ability to empathize with, or pity, living things—that saw humans as an enemy?

  They could be sent out on a mission—real or practice—and show no more emotion about one than the other.

  But she found the new awareness just as scary if not scarier.

  He stood impassively while she weighed and measured him all over.

  She thought that was the part that bothered her most—touching him all over.

  She wore gloves, of course, but she looked at every part of him that she measured and she touched him.

  She could feel the heat of his body through the gloves.

  She could feel the firmness of his flesh.

  The texture of his skin was all she couldn’t feel, but she could imagine.

  And she did.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if it was yet another psychological test to see his reaction.

  That made more sense to her than taking all the measurements as if he was a growing organism.

  Of course, he was part biological. The exterior was all biological as far as she knew. She supposed he could gain or lose muscle mass and that would affect the weight and measurements.

  But they had monitors on all of them at all times when they were in stasis and they were in stasis most of the time.

  More than they were outside of it at this point.

  She frowned when she compared his latest weight and measurements with the pervious stats that had been taken only a couple of weeks earlier. “You’ve gained muscle mass,” she said, almost more to herself than to him.

  “That is not allowed?”

  She jerked a look up at him.

  He’d asked a question.

  Granted it was in response to a comment she’d made, but … he hadn’t been designed for social interactions. He should respond to questions from her or any of his handlers.

  “I … was just surprised, that’s all,” she responded uneasily. “Have they been giving you something to build you up? Because I don’t see anything noted here.”

  “I would not know. I have no awareness when I am in stasis.”

  She met his gaze, feeling cold fingers trip down her spine.

  He’d just lied to her. They dreamed.

  And he would remember dreams. He could not forget anything. All of it was recorded on his onboard computer.

  She forced her lips to curl in a semblance of a smile. “Well! We’re done here.”

  She felt his eyes boring into her back as she left him, though, and it seemed to suck all of the starch out of her knees.

  It took all she could do to make it to the next table where Brahma waited.

  She didn’t know how she made the rounds. She had to check everything repeatedly.

  She was so intent on racing to the bathroom when she left that she slammed into one of her colleagues hard enough both of them bounced.

  “Why did you turn the com off?” he demanded, clearly too angry to be rattled by the collision.

  “I did?”

  He studied her through narrowed eyes. “You did.”

  She met his gaze. “Well, I didn’t know it. Sorry. My mistake.”

  He gave her a tongue lashing despite the apology, threatening to write her up and or fire her. />
  She bowed her head, hunched her shoulders, and endured—as if he was actually beating her instead of lashing her with angry words.

  On the bright side, by the time he’d finished she’d managed to pull herself together for the next group—team Condor.

  Relieved when she’d finished testing the fourth squad, she checked the time and headed back to her work space to collect her belongings and call it a day, thankful that she wouldn’t be called upon for another round of tests for a month, at least.

  Unless they decided they were done testing.

  Ha! Like that would happen.

  Or maybe they’d decide she was shit at the job and send one of the other female lab techs? She didn’t see why that wouldn’t work. After all, there’d been at least one tech before her that had been assigned to that task.

  If the bastard hadn’t decided to die, he’d still be doing it and she wouldn’t have to deal with the scary cyborgs.

  Chapter Two

  Alexis knew it was seriously contrary of her to be … disappointed and angry that she’d been rotated off of the lab detail that collected the data when she’d been so unnerved with dealing directly with the cyborgs, but there was no denying that she was—both.

  And scared, too, if it came to that.

  She tried to convince herself it was pure paranoia.

  Sure there were rumors that the company had made people ‘disappear’, but they’d never been charged with anything and that should be proof enough that it was just bad talk and nothing else.

  And yet ….

  She couldn’t prevent herself from looking over her shoulder for weeks.

  And she was actually relieved when they put her back on the detail, as unnerving as it was to have to poke and prod dangerous entities like the super soldiers.

  She couldn’t convince herself that they felt no pain and therefore she couldn’t convince herself that they felt no resentment toward the person giving them pain.

  True, it was very minor levels. And they’d been programmed to withstand, and ignore, pain levels that would’ve crippled a human, brought them to their knees or ripped consciousness from them.

  What she did could only be a minor irritant if they noticed at all.

  And yet there was this brooding look in their eyes when they managed to snag her gaze in spite of everything she could do to avoid eye contact, that sent prickles through her.