* * *
Wings ePress, Inc
www.wings-press.com
Copyright ©2007 by Angela Verdenius
First published in 2007, 2007
* * *
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
* * *
Soul If A Predator
Now she ached to hit, lash out, use her energy on something. Anything. Her breath came faster, the mutant inside her struggling to break free to the surface. She fought it down, pushing mentally, clenching her teeth at the effort.
"Well, well,” Shaque drawled from the stairwell. “And what do we have going on here?"
"Get out.” Standing rigidly, she scowled over her shoulder. “Now!"
"Going mutant, Elyse?” He started down the stairs, each metal step ringing under his boots.
"You don't want to be here.” Hearing the deepening of her voice, she took a deep breath. “Go."
His winter gaze swept over her face, one brow arched mockingly. Continuing to come down the stairwell, every step sure, he exuded confidence. His cold calmness was like an invisible cloak enfolding him. Coiled up in one hand was his bullwhip.
Anger bubbled to the surface, and she snarled, turning to face him. “I said to bloody go away!"
"You're looking edgy there, Elyse.” His boots hit the floor of the cargo hold and without pausing he strode across the cargo hold towards her. Shaking the bullwhip out to the side, he cracked the lash with a loud popping sound against the floor. “Real edgy."
Anticipation surged through her, causing the mutant to strain a little closer to the surface. “It's your turn not to push me, hunter.” Even as she spoke, she picked up the long staff resting against the wall in its holder.
What They Are Saying About
Soul Of A Predator
"...sensual heat ... heart wrenching ... the action is through the roof ... What a book! ... a powerful story with so much adventure and passion that one galaxy can't hold all of it. Readers are guaranteed to find their emotions surging from the opening scene..."
—Kelley A. Hartsell
CK2S Kwips and Kritiques
Other Works From The Pen Of
Angela Verdenius
Heart of an Outlaw
An outlawed warrior saved by a Daamen trader. Love blossoms, a powerful enemy threatens. Passion, betrayal, bloody legends, and a shocking secret in a galaxy of enemies and friends.
Soul of a Mercenary
Reya walks the edge of insanity, her soul darkening beneath a bloody secret. For love, Maverk will follow the Reeka warrior into the nightmare reaching out for her.
Heart of the Betrayed
Betrayed once, Dana trusts no man. Garret will risk everything to prove his love—even if it means assisting her betrayer, and entering a country split by hate.
Love's Sweet Assassin
Trying to discover the identity of his enemy, the ruthless Argon will pit his wits against the short, outrageous assassin. It should be straightforward ... shouldn't it?
Soul of a Hunter
The bounty hunter's soul thirsted for vengeance, her life given to the hunt. He'd thought Sabra was dead. Now he's found her again, Cam won't give her up.
Love's Bewitching Thief
Felys female: thief, feline-like, bewitching—and coming on heat. Argon: sensual, looking for revenge—and captivated. The Cyborg: he just wants to kill the Felys.
Heart of the Forsaken
First Sonja high jacks his ship, then his heart. But can Red battle the evil legacy from an old Empire that threatens to engulf her?
Soul of a Witch
In a bid to save a boy's soul from powerful dark forces, a famous witch and a notorious pirate must unite. Will their growing love survive what is to come?
Heart of a Traitor
The Daamen trader shows mercy to the disgraced soldier who was flogged, branded traitor, and left for the outlaws. But now she's committing treason—and the law is closing in.
Soul of the Forgotten
A forgotten Reeka, freed after long years of imprisonment. Now she has to learn to live again ... and to love. But someone wants her dead.
Love's Beguiling Healer
An Argon healer and a Felys officer ... fur will fly and passion will flare. But Death is closing in, and now it's a race against time.
Heart Of A Peacekeeper
Escalating outlaw activity, savage attacks, and clashes between a handsome Daamen trader and a hot-tempered Head Peacekeeper, can only culminate in two things ... one hotly intimate, the other so very deadly...
Wings
Soul Of A Predator
by
Angela Verdenius
A Wings ePress, Inc.
Futuristic Romance Novel
Wings ePress, Inc.
Edited by: Leslie Hodges
Copy Edited by: Rosalie Franklin
Senior Editor: Elizabeth Struble
Managing Editor: Leslie Hodges
Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens
Cover Artist: Richard Stroud
All rights reserved
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Wings ePress Books
www.wings-press.com
Copyright © 2007 by Angela Verdenius
ISBN 978-1-59705-272-6
Published In the United States Of America
December 2007
Wings ePress Inc.
403 Wallace Court
Richmond, KY 40475
Dedication
As always, my Mum, Doreen Verdenius, who has always been behind me all the way.
My editor, Leslie Hodges, who believes in me and my books.
Richard Stroud, who does such wonderful covers for me.
Brenda Edde, for cheering me onwards through those long nights when I needed a friend to laugh and share with me.
To everyone who has been asking and waiting for Shaque and Elyse's story—here they finally are! And thank you! I never knew two such difficult characters could have their own fan gathering LOL.
To readers everywhere ... I thank you for supporting us, the authors. Readers and authors are like bread and butter—we're meant to be together—g—.
One
Sitting at the table, Shaque sipped at the hot cup of una while listening with half an ear to the talk of his pack. His gaze slid around the room, taking in the number of bounty hunter packs that took shelter here from the teeming rain outside.
The Hunter's Hole was a safe place. On the edges of the Lawful Sector, near the outskirts of the Outlaw Sector, it was one of several bounty hunter gathering places where the packs could drink, rest, catch up with other packs, share news, relax away from their spaceships, and recuperate without fear of being attacked by vengeful outlaws.
Only an idiot would attack a hunters’ resting-house, for to do so would bring the wrath of all the surviving packs down upon the stupid person or persons who did so.
Leaning back against the wall, Shaque let the heat
of the una seep through the thick china of the mug to warm his palms. Not that he needed the heat, for it was warm in the Hole. Heavy music filtered quietly through the speakers above the bar. The smell of cooking food came through the door beside the bar. The packs sat around tables talking, laughing, the odd swear word peppering the air.
He allowed the familiarity of it to seep into his senses, trying to relax as much as he could, something he didn't come by easily.
There was something in the air tonight, a feeling of expectation that slid with a silent threat through his veins. He didn't know what it was, but something was coming. Or someone.
The lights flickered overhead as the storm outside thundered through the valley. Electricity in several parts of the settlement was already out, the emergency lighting keeping the lights on in the taverns and some of the homes.
Abra, his pack's leader now that Cormac had wed the witch and retired from bounty hunting, was easily picked out from the throng at the bar. His Mohawk, and long ponytail that ended it, was dark in the light. Ricna turned, the shadows cast on his face picking out the sharp features in the smooth, tanned skin.
The rest of his pack sat with Shaque at the table. Vane, Nat, Jarvis and Menac talked quietly, laughing now and again, enjoying the brief respite from the hunt for outlaws and risking their lives for dinnos.
The prickle of sensation went through Shaque again, and he lifted his gaze to fasten it on the door on the other side of the room.
The lights flickered, dimmed, and then came back on just as the door opened, the sound of the rain loud in the room almost immediately, only to be muffled again as it shut behind the figure that entered.
Every sharply-honed sense that Shaque possessed snapped to attention, and his eyes narrowed.
Every sound in the room stopped, except for the music. Every hard-eyed gaze went to the woman who stood calmly in the room looking around. Every bounty hunter knew who stood in their midst.
Ex-pirate, ex-prisoner, and part mutant. Once one of the most wanted women in the Outlaw Sector...
Her grave, brown-eyed gaze slid around the room, not a hint of fear or any other emotion on her smooth, pretty face. There was an unnatural serenity about her, and the invisible but tangible threat that seemed so much a part of her aura.
The tension in the room was escalating. Dislike, distrust, curiosity, fascination, the acknowledgement that a predator, who was possibly still on the opposite side of the law to the bounty hunters, was standing in a roomful of similar predators.
"She's mine.” The words hissed through the room.
There was one predator in particular who claimed this woman as his prey, one predator that every hunter there knew and therefore did not make a move towards her.
Not one bounty hunter made a sound of disagreement as Shaque pushed his mug away, his words fading in the silence.
Unerringly Elyse's gaze met his, and one fine brow arched faintly. Without looking away, she started towards him. Her stride was lithe, her legs long in close-fitting pants that were tucked into low-heeled boots. The shirt she wore was loose, the belt cinching it at her trim waist so that the hem of it came down over her rounded hips and stopped just below the curve of her bottom. A short jacket was atop it, the sleeves coming down to her wrists. A laser was strapped to each shapely thigh, a dagger sheathed at the waist.
Shaque's gaze lifted to the brown hair that fell to her shoulders in thick waves, the light catching the richness of the colour. Her full lips didn't smile, didn't grimace, but were simply softly closed.
Even though his attention was focused solely on her, he was dimly aware of Abra and Ricna falling into step behind her. She seemed to notice, for a faint gleam of amusement flickered in her eyes.
Coming to a stop at the table opposite him, her posture relaxed, hands brushing the holstered lasers, she drawled, “I've been looking for you, Shaque."
He couldn't explain the sensation that went through him. Anger. Danger. Anticipation. He was always watching for her wherever he went, not consciously seeking her out, but watching for her nonetheless. “I'm here."
"I have something for you.” She reached into her back pocket and almost immediately there was the sound of a laser being half drawn from a holster somewhere behind her.
"Stop.” Abra's voice was quiet in the silent room. “She belongs to Shaque."
Elyse kept her fingertips in her back pocket, her eyes calm. “We'll have to settle this between us one day, hunter."
"Maybe it'll happen sooner than you think,” Shaque replied softly. “Is today the day?"
"Mmm.” She studied him for several seconds before her gaze dropped to where his arms rested on the table.
With his shirt sleeves wound up to his elbows, the scar on his forearm stood out sharply. It matched the one on her forearm. They'd given the scars to each other during a furious fight when they'd fought to kill each other with daggers over a year ago, yet Shaque could see it almost as though it happened yesterday.
Elyse's gaze rose again to lock with his. “Unfinished business."
"Unfinished business,” he agreed quietly.
The silence in the room was almost heavy. One thing bounty hunters knew how to do well was wait. They waited now to see what was happening between the famed adversaries.
Thunder crashed overhead, the lights went out briefly, plunging the room in darkness, and a flicker of lightning showed through the window, lighting up the room in an eerie, white glow.
It picked out the red in her eyes, a red glint that Shaque knew shouldn't have been there. It didn't surprise him to know the danger was still inside her, that she was the danger, for the scent of it was almost tangible to him. The dangerous part of him recognized the danger in her, responded to it.
The lights flared on again.
"But not today,” she said, and pulling her hand from her pocket, she dropped a small bag onto the table.
Picking it up, Shaque's gaze lifted as Elyse turned and started to walk away. He didn't want her to go, yet perversely, he also didn't want her to stay, for blood would possibly be shed between them.
Something fluttered out of the bag and he looked down at the photo image that landed face-up on the table. A smiling face looked up at him. For a second he couldn't think, could only blink. Reaching down, he picked up the photo image, held it up. Looked at it.
The blood drained from his cheeks then surged up hotly as he realized what was in the photo image.
It wasn't possible. Couldn't be! Not after all this time, all the fruitless searching, and finall,y the painful realization that she had to be dead!
His heart pounded, and the room seemed to darken. The rain on the roof now seemed to beat down almost mockingly. It had rained the day she'd been taken.
But the photo image, she'd had it when she'd been taken. He remembered that so clearly. And if she'd given it to Elyse ... the only person who provided any link...
He surged to his feet with a snarl. “Stop!"
By this time Elyse was almost at the door, and she halted. Calmly she turned back to face him.
The tension in the room ricocheted up several notches.
"Where did you get this?” He held up the photo image in a hand that wasn't quite steady.
"It was given to me."
"By whom?"
"A child."
"A child?” Fury surged through Shaque. “Are you playing me for a fool?"
One elegant brow arched coolly.
"Come here.” His voice grated in the room.
"I'm not your pet hound, hunter.” Swinging around on her heel, she strode for the door.
He acted on instinct, drawing the dagger swiftly from the sheath at his waist and throwing it with deadly accuracy.
It shot through the air and sliced through the side of Elyse's jacket just as she reached the door. The sharp blade pinned the side of the jacket to the door frame with a dull thunk and buried deep into the wood.
A couple of hunters close by shuffled back when
Elyse looked slowly down at the dagger. With a rock steady hand she grasped the handle and jerked it out of the wood. Holding out the side of her jacket, she looked at the hole left by the dagger blade, then turned and looked at Shaque.
Flicking the dagger in her hand, the blade dancing dangerously near her fingers as she twirled it effortlessly around in dexterous moves, she studied him intently. Then she started walking across the room in even, measured strides, each step deliberate, and every thud of the heels on her boots ringing out on the wooden floor.
She was too beautiful, too wild, too dangerous. The thoughts flashed through Shaque's mind fast, but mingled with it was the knowledge that this woman might hold the key to a mystery that had eaten at him for far too long.
The gazes of every bounty hunter in the room were fastened on him and Elyse as she drew to a halt on the opposite side of the table.
Without taking her gaze from his, she flashed the dagger around her fingers in a lightning move and then stabbed downwards, the blade just missing the web of his fingers where his hand rested on the table. The blade buried deep between his fingers and into the wood of the table.
Right through the photo image.
Shaque didn't jump, didn't move, his cold gaze going from the photo image to Elyse as she rested her palm beside his and leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart.
"Don't piss me off, hunter.” Her voice was quiet, her eyes steady.
He allowed the lick of anger to heat the edges of his hard voice. “I want answers."
"You're not going the right way to get them."
Frustration boiled up, searing his normally cool temper. His hand flashed down to his thigh in a lightning move, and by the time the tip of his dagger was beneath her chin, the tip of her own dagger was resting against his Adam's apple in an almost identical move.
They looked deeply into each others eyes, seeing the reflecting deadliness within the depths.
The silence in the tavern could have been cut with a knife. A timer on the wall displayed the seconds as they flicked past. No one moved.
Soul of a Predator Page 1