Soul of a Predator

by Angela Verdenius

  He was going to see Elyse. Taking a deep breath, Shaque felt relief course through him. At last he'd see her, make sure for himself that she was okay. What the hell had they been doing to her while he was in the cell?

  Four hours later four hulking guards came for him. Surrounded by them, he was led down the corridor, passing from one section to another. Finally he was led into another cell, the door shutting behind him with a sharp snap.

  He nearly fell, regaining his balance quickly as the barred door of the cell slid along the floor, forcing him across the cell to the far wall. The wall slid open and Shaque had no choice but to step through and out into a large, round room. The cell door locked into place behind him, blocking off the hole in the wall.

  The room was solid rock wall fifteen feet, then solid glass for another fifteen feet. The Overlord sat in his throne behind the glass. Veknor, Fredrico and Phemar stood beside him.

  This was not good. If it would have been outside in a huge arena with a cheering, bloodthirsty crowd of most wanted outlaws and space pirates in the universe, he could have almost imagined himself back with his pack, Sabra and Cam a couple of years ago. But he was here alone, with only a few watchers.

  Where was Elyse?

  A roar rent the air, followed by a snarl. The wall slid open on the other side of the room and a figure crawled sinuously out on hands and knees. The moments were sensual, lithe.

  Dressed in a close-fitting pants and top, her hair pulled back into a small ponytail, Elyse looked up at him through burning red eyes. And she snarled again.

  "Elyse.” He took a step forward, glad to see her alive, but wary at the same time. No fool, he saw the wildness in her eyes. “It's me. Shaque."

  She came up onto one knee, one hand flexing on the floor, pushing up, and he recognized her stance as one preparing to spring. She moved slowly, eyeing him, the snarl lifting her full upper lip menacingly.

  Oh shit, Elyse was mutant.

  "Elyse, talk to me,” he said softly.

  She feinted a move forward, dropping back when he froze.

  "Elyse,” he used her name soothingly, seeking to get her to listen to him. “We're together, remember? We—"

  She sprang, a roar ripping through the air.

  He braced immediately, hands out, his gaze fastened on her, trying to gauge her movements.

  Always lithe, Elyse moved fast, and just when he was sure she was going to crash into his chest, she dropped down before him on one hand and one knee. Slowly she pushed upright, a low growl trickling from her lips and her eyes glowing hotly with simmering rage.

  Maintaining eye contact, Shaque slowly lowered his hands. She was so close, her breasts brushed against his shirt as she straightened to her full height. Even though shorter than he, she looked deadlier than ever. He knew what she was capable of.

  But he still didn't fear her. Wary, yes, he'd be a fool not to be wary, but fear, no. Relief, yeah, he had to admit that, too.

  She was testing him, gauging his reactions as he did hers. They moved slowly, circling each other.

  Forget talking, this was a fight for survival. He saw it in her eyes, the way the red glowed with a fiery burn, the snarl on her lips, and the murderous intent in her eyes.

  Well, Goddamn. Looks like the unfinished business is finally going to be finished. So why the hell didn't he feel happy about that?

  * * * *

  From up on the dais, Fredrico watched silently. Elyse, the woman he'd practically grown up with, his cousin's closest friend, now turned mutant thanks to Phemar. He'd pushed at her mentally, pouring his diabolical powers into her, ripping forth the mutant and pushing down her humanity. They'd had to tranqu her just to get her into the holding cell. None could control her now that Phemar had called forth the mutant.

  And now she was set against Shaque.

  "Predator against predator,” The Overlord murmured as Elyse reached out slowly towards Shaque. “And when a predator faces a predator, what happens?"

  "They wipe each other out,” Veknor answered quietly.

  "Yes.” He watched Shaque say something too soft for anyone but Elyse to hear. “Yessssss."

  Phemar stayed silent, but Fredrico knew he watched closely, monitoring Elyse. She was now out of his control. He'd ripped forth the mutant, and then relinquished control of Elyse. He'd set her loose, and now they were going to watch the outcome.

  The test.

  How good was the bounty hunter?

  How good was Elyse?

  How much of Elyse still resided, and how much was mutant?

  So many questions and here they'd find the answers.

  Elyse had hold of Shaque's arm, and she stepped in close. Angling her head, she inhaled deeply, almost visibly relaxed.

  "Shaque.” One word breathed out in a snarl.

  "Elyse.” One small move and Shaque laced his fingers through hers.

  Fredrico caught Veknor's look, and raised one brow faintly. So, it was true. The hunter, it would seem, was able to have some control over the mutant. Or over Elyse.

  "That part of the test is passed, it would seem,” the Overlord mused.

  "Do you want to call off the men?"

  "No.” The Overlord sat back. “Now it's time to shed a little blood, prod the mutant. Then we'll see if she has enough blood-lust to turn on the hunter."

  Another part of the wall slid open, and men started to walk through, their eyes hard, every man carrying a dagger. Ten men in all walked through the opening in the wall before it slid closed behind them.

  Fredrico watched as Elyse let go of Shaque's hand and whirled around immediately, a roar of warning exploding from her mouth. Shaque moved up beside her, but in a move so subtle he didn't notice, Elyse edged one leg in front of his, and as the men advanced, she dropped into a crouch in front of Shaque, the growls panting out from her lips as she tensed.

  Veknor tossed two daggers over the glass edge to drop near Shaque.

  "Pick up your weapons,” The Overlord instructed. “Fight for your lives.” He gestured to Phemar. “See how much you can control her near the end. See if you can push the mutant enough to bring her into a blinding rage. I want to see her attack the hunter."

  Shaque picked up the two daggers, weighing them in his hands, and started to hand one to Elyse. She pushed his hand away, her gaze fastened on the men. He didn't argue, simply flipped the daggers around in an automatic move, and then balanced on the balls of his feet, waiting.

  Four men rushed at them.

  Shaque and Elyse both sprang forward, Shaque engaging two of the men in a dagger fight that he was dexterous enough to win quickly.

  Elyse simply grabbed the wrist of one of the two men stalking her and snapped it like a twig. He barely got a scream out before she swung him to slam into the other man, bringing them both down to the floor.

  The remaining six men charged forward, and the room turned into a battle zone, with Shaque and Elyse in the middle.

  Fredrico had to admire the skill with which Shaque fought. He well deserved the title of The Knifer. But he didn't escape easily, getting several cuts, one across his stomach, and the other down one arm. But he ignored it, his movements controlled, his gaze assessing, as he fought.

  Elyse fought with brute strength, ripping and tearing, and two men went down in seconds. Blood spattered the walls as Shaque and Elyse fought for their lives.

  The Overlord watched with cold interest. He assessed their moves, their strength, and the way they fought, with as much emotion as if he was watching a butterfly landing on a flower in the garden.

  But Fredrico knew there was so much more at stake, and if Elyse and Shaque failed the test, they'd both die. If one turned on the other, there'd be no survivors, for The Overlord wouldn't allow it.

  He glanced at Veknor who was watching the fight in detached interest, before returning his gaze to the room below.

  Eight men lay on the ground, some seriously wounded, others dead. Shaque killed with cold efficiency, Elyse with brutal
force. Both used the skills they had, and they used them without hesitation.

  They really were predators, but then again, Fredrico mused, they were in a nest of predators, and everyone knew a predator when faced with another either got along, or wiped each other out.

  The man fighting with Elyse went down, his neck broken, and she swung around to face Shaque.

  The hunter slammed his boot up into his attacker's groin, immediately rendering him helpless. The man went down without a sound, though his eyes were wide and shocked. The dagger flipped around in Shaque's hand and flashed, driving deep into the man's chest.

  In a quick move, Shaque reached down, yanked the dagger free, and spun around.

  They faced each other, both bloodied, both injured, both breathing heavier, both still alert. One long look, the silent snarl lifting Elyse's upper lip. Shaque said something quietly, and she sprang forward.

  The watchers leaned closer to the glass, expecting her to rip him apart. Phemar's hand on the glass smeared putrid flesh across it as he flexed his fingers.

  As she'd done before, Elyse dropped to the floor in front of him, spinning around to eye the room. It wasn't a submissive pose, but one of a predator guarding something.

  She was guarding Shaque.

  Standing behind her, both bloodied daggers clenched in his fists, Shaque's cold gaze swept the room, searching for more intruders.

  "They work together really well.” Veknor broke the silence.

  Fredrico felt the shiver go through him and knew Phemar was touching the mutant inside her, trying to force her. The final part of the test for her, for them both.

  She jerked, her head coming up as she glanced around the room. Her eyes glowed hotter, and a growl burst forth.

  Tensing, Shaque readied for another attack. He couldn't see what she felt.

  "It's here.” The growled words were low but clear. “Something is here."

  "Where?” Shaque turned slowly, and then his gaze lifted to the silent watchers.

  "Kill the hunter.” These words were hissed out from the shadows of Phemar's hood. “Kill him now."

  Elyse's head snapped back, her gaze fastening on Phemar and she roared savagely. Slamming her hands over her ears, she stumbled back from Shaque.

  The hunter knew instantly that there was a connection of some kind between Phemar and Elyse. A snarl of hate twisted his own lips as he gave Phemar one brief, hate-filled stare, before he moved without hesitation, following her. When she roared in pain, he forced her hands from her head, replacing them with his own, forcing her to look at him. Forcing her to meet his gaze.

  Almost immediately they saw her relax. The growls were still coming, but quieter. Shaque didn't say anything but just the contact, the look between them, calmed her down.

  Phemar shuddered, his robe swirling as he moved abruptly. The chill snaked through Fredrico, through Veknor, making the ebony pirate shiver, and then Phemar turned his hooded head toward the couple in the room below.

  Power surged, pushing downwards, and he roared, “Kill him!"

  As one, the couple below looked up. It was a shock to all to see that the red of her eyes were receding to show glimpses of the blue and brown of her irises.

  The mutant was receding.

  "Get out of my head!” Elyse roared back. “Get out!"

  Phemar jerked back with the impact of her thrusting him away mentally and he cursed. A spatter of rotten flesh sizzled on the floor at the hem of his robe. He stumbled back against the wall.

  The Overlord looked at him in mild curiosity.

  "I can't get to the mutant,” Phemar hissed. “Something is stopping it.” His hooded head turned to the glass. “Somehow, someway, the hunter is controlling the mutant."

  "Ah.” Profoundly pleased, a smile curved The Overlord's lipless mouth. “That is good. Very good. Fredrico,” he added, as his throne lifted into the air. “Take care of our guests as planned and I will see them in the morning."

  The throne left the room, Phemar following. Veknor and Fredrico gazed down into the room below, and the couple who stood side by side, their stances tense.

  The bounty hunter didn't look scared, but his eyes were full of hate and fury. In that moment, Fredrico knew he would have killed The Overlord in a heartbeat with no care to his own safety.

  Damn, but he was starting to like the blonde bounty hunter.

  "You have passed the test, and the Overlord will see you both tomorrow. Meanwhile, you'll be cleaned up, your injuries attend, you'll be fed and tonight you sleep well. Tomorrow your questions will be answered."

  Far from looking relieved, Shaque simply looked like he wanted to rip someone's heart out with his bare hands. Elyse glared straight up at Fredrico, and he knew he'd made a mortal enemy.

  If she ever got him alone, he was dead.

  Damn, he never ceased to admire her.

  "Don't try anything stupid, such as trying to break out,” he added. “You are in the Inner Sanctum of the Outlaw Sector, in The Overlord's domain. Guards are everywhere, and there are other ... unearthly beings ... around. You won't escape, but you will die. So behave yourselves and all will be revealed in the morning."

  His last glimpse of them both before he left the dais was of Shaque and Elyse standing up, supporting each other, but wary, watching the guards come in. Poised. Together they were ready to face whatever next was thrown at them. Together they were ready to face anything.

  The Overlord would be pleased.

  * * * *

  Being cleaned up and tended to meant being taken to a medic chamber, where two stoic faced medics—at least Elyse hoped they were medics—sent them to two of the four shower cubicles to wash the filth and blood off themselves.

  Because the guards accompanied them everywhere, except into the shower cubicles, Elyse and Shaque remained silent.

  There was no doubt whatever they said and did would be reported back to The Overlord, and Elyse didn't want that, and going by Shaque's quiet demeanour, neither did he.

  The water was warm; the soap had a bite of antiseptic. Ignoring the sting of her wounds as the soap slid over them, Elyse wondered what Shaque really thought of the happenings. He'd seen her totally mutant, seen her rip and kill. What did he really think now? What was happening? Where had he been while she'd been drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness the last week?

  But these questions would have to wait until they were alone.

  Stepping out of the shower, she found one of the medics waiting for her in the cubicle.

  He didn't say a word, and his expression was bland, if not slightly bored, while he swiped antiseptic liquid across her wounds, uncaring of the savage burn it produced in the deeper wounds. Slapping patches roughly on the cuts on her leg, upper thigh and arm, he started to reach for the towel which covered her, when she grabbed his hand in a vice-like grip.

  "You pull this towel off and I'll gut you,” Elyse stated quietly.

  "You've got a deep cut on your abdomen. There's blood coming through the towel."

  "Nice of you to notice now. But get the hell out of this cubicle if you've finished everything else."

  "The Overlord—"

  Grabbing his tunic front in one fist, Elyse shoved him back through the curtained doorway, listening in satisfaction to him crash into whatever lay beyond in the medic chamber.

  The curtain was shoved aside and she braced for a fight, only to find herself face-to-face with Shaque. His alert gaze, filled with menace, swept over her. She didn't see concern, but she could feel it.

  "He's not seeing me naked,” Elyse said bluntly. “I'll bloody geld him if he comes near me again."

  "Take the towel down,” he said, picking up the antiseptic liquid.

  "I can do it.” She held out one hand.

  He simply looked at her. His hair was damp, hanging around his shoulders. A lone drop of water dripped off, rolling over one shoulder, down the swell of muscle on his chest, to slip beneath the waistband of a pair of black pants. He wore
his own boots. His torso had a couple of large self adhesive patches on it, as well as grazes and scratches.

  Elyse wasn't about to get into an argument with him now. They had to provide a united front in The Overlord's domain. But she could give him hell about it later.

  Dropping to one knee before her when she lowered the towel to her hips, Shaque studied the deep, blood-oozing wound. Without a word, he swiped it with the antiseptic in quick, efficient moves, before applying a self-adhesive patch.

  Pushing upright, his fingers slid briefly up her arm in a gesture of comfort, or to reassure himself she was all right, Elyse wasn't certain, but she knew he needed that contact for some reason.

  She knew it gave her comfort. She had the insane desire to throw herself into his arms and hug him tight. It wasn't something she was going to do in this place.

  She gave a brief nod, and his nod in return was slight and terse.

  He left the cubicle, sticking his head back in seconds later with a blue bundle in his hand. “Clothes."

  As soon as she took it from him, he withdrew and the curtain fell over the opening again.

  The clothes consisted of the briefest pair of underclothes imaginable, and a silky gown. “Why can't I have pants and shirt?"

  "It's all we're getting,” Shaque replied from close on the other side of the curtain.

  Was he guarding her privacy? The thought was warming, even though Elyse knew if The Overlord wanted them both naked, he could order it done, and eventually it would be so. The ensuing fight would be interesting, but the ending would be the same.

  Ignoring the pull of her injuries, Elyse slipped the underwear on, and drew on the gown. It settled around her ankles in silky swaths, left her arms bare, and had a scooped neckline that just showed the beginning swells of her breasts. Putting her feet into the simple sandals, she frowned. She much preferred pants and shirt, especially in an outlaw area.

  After running a comb through her hair, she took a deep breath, and stepped out of the cubicle.

  Shaque stood nearby, arms folded, his cold gaze watching the two medics who went about their own business. He glanced around when she came out, his gaze sweeping down her but his thoughts hidden behind his expressionless face.