Soul of a Predator

by Angela Verdenius

  Shaque walked in minutes later, striding across to the counter to get a big plate of steaming food. Obviously the man was as hungry as she'd been. He topped it off with a big mug of hot chocolate.

  Returning to the table, he sat down directly opposite her, took a bite of hot, fried potatoes, and eyed her contemplatively.

  She eyed him back in return.

  The seconds stretched into minutes, and still neither spoke.

  This, she decided, was interesting. She should have felt uncomfortable, uneasy, a little embarrassed. Hell, the man had a tongue like magic, and it had been inside her—and she didn't mean her mouth. He'd done things to her she'd only heard about.

  But no, he intrigued her instead. Made her eye him in amusement as she wondered what he'd say or do next.

  Shaque continued to eat in steady bites, chewing the food and eyeing her, sipping the hot chocolate and eyeing her. Eyeing her right back until his plate was empty and he placed it on top of her empty plate.

  Lifting the glass to her lips, she took another sip.

  "Iron,” he finally said.

  "Seemed like a good idea."

  Silence fell between them again, while he leaned back, swivelling the chair so he could bend his knee, bringing up his foot to rest his booted ankle on the opposite knee. One elbow rested on the table.

  She arched a brow at him, not bothering to hide her amusement.

  "So,” he said.

  "So,” she replied.

  "You're obviously feeling better."

  "I've felt worse."

  "How many iron drinks have you had?"

  "This is my second."

  "And a good hunk of steak."

  "But not raw. Not rare. Well done."

  He took another sip of his hot chocolate, his gaze never leaving her.

  "I checked the coordinates.” She leaned back in the chair, trying to gauge his thoughts behind his impassive face. “We're heading for the Lawful Sector."

  "No surprise there."

  "Right into the middle of it, actually."

  "No surprise there again. Sarita will want to get right away."

  "She's on a planet right in the middle of the Lawful Sector.” Raising the glass in salute, Elyse drained the contents and lowered the empty glass to the table. “Any suggestions?"

  "We go in, blast the hell out of her, she dies, you live, end of story."

  "Aw, sweet. But it might not be that easy."

  It was his turn to arch a brow.

  "Killing her without explanation might result in us going on the most wanted list,” she pointed out. “Kind of bad publicity for you, a bounty hunter joining the ranks of the most wanted outlaws."

  "I'd do it for you,” he stated bluntly.

  Shooting stars of Cyron. There it was, out there between them.

  "Shaque,” she began slowly.

  In one abrupt move, Shaque stood up, leaned across the table, grabbed two fistfuls of her shirt and yanked her upright. He kissed her hard. Hard and long and deep.

  The man could kiss.

  His clean, masculine scent drifted through her senses, his fresh taste in her mouth, and she gripped the table with both hands to brace herself when her knees went weak.

  Had to be lack of iron.

  Or Shaque's plundering of her mouth.

  Definitely Shaque's plundering of her mouth.

  When he lifted his head, she was breathing fast. His own breath wasn't so steady, but his gaze was direct, and a winter fire burned in his eyes. “I love you."

  He stated it like a fact, not a declaration.

  "Uh ... Shaque...” She licked her lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “We need to talk."

  "I love you. We're going to capture or kill Sarita. You'll live. We'll be together for the rest of our lives. What's to talk about?” He arched one brow coolly. “Plans for the attack? We should talk about that. She won't be alone, and she won't be weak. She'll be looking for a fight, for an attack.” He released her, pushing Elyse back into her chair and subsiding into his own. “Any ideas?"

  Elyse started laughing.

  "Something amusing?” His eyes swept over her. “Glad you're feeling better."

  She shook her head. “Yes, we need to plan. But we need to discuss a few other things."

  "What?"

  "You really are a piece of work, Shaque."

  "Is that a compliment or insult?"

  "I'm not sure.” Relaxing back in the chair, she sobered. “You say you love me. Hell, it wasn't that long ago we had plans to kill each other."

  "Plans change."

  "I have weird genes in me."

  "Your point?"

  "Shaque, you suddenly think you love me—"

  "I know I love you."

  "It's rather sudden."

  "So?"

  "You're not making this easy."

  "You're making it hard when it doesn't need to be."

  "Men really are from another galaxy."

  A flicker of humour slipped into his cold eyes.

  She drummed her fingers on her knee. “You didn't like me before, you know what's in me, you know my mysterious third donor, you've seen me at my worse, and now we're going hunting in the middle of what could be a dangerous situation."

  "I'm still waiting for your point."

  "Your declaration of love is a bit ... strange."

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze direct and steady. “I didn't set out to fall in love with you. I wanted to kill you."

  "Now there's the man I know."

  "Once, I could have watched you suffer with not a qualm. But not now. Seeing you in so much pain and being unable to help you was agonizing in itself. I'd have spared you that if I could have. I'd have suffered it for you if I could have done so.” He continued unblinkingly, “But I didn't know that I loved you until I sat by your bed and watched you breathing so shallowly, your face so pale. Until I dreamed that you died. Then I knew. I knew I loved you. That was the moment."

  Her heartbeat fastened just a little. “It could just be a reaction to what we'd been through."

  "No. I've been in a lot of dangerous situations, and I can honestly say I've never fallen in love with anyone before, during or after it."

  "That's reassuring.” And heart warming.

  Shaque's gaze was steady. “Do you love me?"

  And that was the million dinno question. She had no idea. “I don't want to kill you anymore."

  "Good enough for me.” With a nod, he sat back and drained the last of the hot chocolate from the mug.

  Her mouth fell open. “What?"

  "If you don't want to kill me, then you love me.'

  "How the hell do you figure that out?” Astounded, she stared at him.

  "Because I know how you think. Like me."

  "That's bloody scary on its own. Shit, Shaque, don't you think I would know if I loved you or not?"

  "You don't know, but I do.” He sat there in complete seriousness.

  She couldn't believe his audacity.

  He nodded in complete and calm satisfaction. And still managed to keep his face expressionless.

  "Maybe I just like you."

  "No. You love me.” He smiled just a little, a tiny bit of warmth leaking into the chill of his eyes. “You just have to get used to the idea."

  "You are so sure of yourself.” She didn't know whether to laugh or scowl.

  "And I'm usually right.” He shrugged. “You'll figure it out."

  "And just how do you think we'll stay together? You hunting my friends and me giving them forewarning?"

  "That should be interesting. Life won't be dull."

  Elyse rubbed her forehead. God Almighty.

  "So,” Shaque said. “The plan?"

  "Huh?"

  "Sarita? The attack plan?"

  It was certainly an easier subject than his declaration of love. She'd contemplate that later. This was a welcome diversion to the puzzle that was Shaque. “Right. Well, she's in the
Lawful Sector on Ceron."

  "Almost the middle,” Shaque said.

  "Exactly.” Picking up the dishes, Elyse put them in the cupboard beneath the sink to wash. “Come with me to the control cabin and we'll see what The Overlord had programmed into my viscomm. Bastard,” she added.

  "For what he did to you, yes,” Shaque agreed, standing up and falling into step beside her.

  "For messing with my ship."

  "Ah."

  She hated that The Overlord had messed with her, messed with Shaque, and she hated that he'd messed with her spaceship. Her ship was her haven, her own private space. Having someone messing with her viscomm and scanners irritated her.

  Taking a seat, she ran a complete scan through the systems, checking for any problems caused by the breaking-in of her security codes. A few small glitches showed, and she did a reconfiguration of the security codes.

  Leaning back in the chair, one ankle resting atop the opposite knee, arms folded across his chest, Shaque watched intently as she keyed in the various codes.

  "You'll know some of this by watching,” she remarked. “But don't get too excited. You won't break into the secure systems to find my friends."

  "Space pirates."

  "That'd be the ones."

  "I guess Donika will be my sister-by-marriage. Interesting."

  "Gee, and won't she be impressed with that news?” Elyse flicked several switches. “If it ever gets that far."

  He didn't answer, but he bloody well practically oozed confidence. The classically handsome face showed not a sign of emotion, but remained calm.

  "Besides, you haven't asked me to marry you,” she added.

  "You will."

  "How romantic is that? Makes my heart pound."

  His smile was sudden, bright, and all teeth. A predator's smile.

  Elyse was unimpressed.

  Silence fell once more as she completed the scanning and reconfiguration. Turning on the viscomm search screen, she entered Sarita's name, and as she suspected, information scrolled onto the screen.

  "The Overlord has been busy.” Shaque studied the information.

  "Sarita is forty two years old and a healer of dubious success. She went to the Inka Empire for several years before returning to the Inner Sanctum.” Leaning back in the chair, Elyse propped her elbow on the armrest and rested her chin on her fist. Lifting her legs, she crossed her ankles and rested her booted heals on the corner of the control console, and continued to peruse the information on the viscomm screen. “The Overlord let her go because he was interested in seeing what Shari of the Inka Empire was up to in regards to the mutants he was breeding."

  "Nice face, hard eyes,” Shaque commented.

  Sarita was lovely. Her black hair was swept up in intricate knots atop her head, showing off her elegant neck. Her lips were red and lush, her nose small and perky. Her eyes were green, hard and emotionless, like looking into an empty glass.

  "Hard living, too,” Elyse added. “She was into torture and pain and degradation. Worked also with slavers, checking out the ‘merchandise', so to speak. She liked children, but not in the conventional manner. Those who went into her rooms never came out alive. Not a nice lady. Killing her won't be a problem."

  "She's been living on Ceron for about four months,” Shaque said. “Lives well. Big home, five guards. Doesn't seem like she totally trust the safety of the Lawful Sector against The Overlord."

  "She's no fool.” Elyse studied the photo image of Sarita. “She knows The Overlord will find a way to get to her."

  Leaning forward, Shaque brought up the planet image on the viscomm, and then brought up a smaller image of the settlement Sarita lived in.

  "Busy,” he said. “Large."

  "Easier to lose yourself in a large place."

  "But not if you have a big house and a guard troop."

  "Some people can't live without their luxuries."

  He tapped the screen and a listing of the guards appeared. They were all from the Outlaw Sector.

  "She bought their loyalty,” Elyse murmured.

  "But with what?"

  "Certainly not dinnos. If they had enough, they'd hide themselves away. She's either bought them with sex, favours of another kind, or tied them to her in some way."

  Quietly they contemplated the guards. All were young, brash, and hard-eyed. Something to prove? Courage? Stupidity? Rubbing her chin, Elyse pondered for several minutes, noting their areas of weapons expertise. They were good, no doubt about it. Deadly.

  But a mutant could do a lot of damage.

  A mutant who needed controlling.

  Being under someone else's control grated on her. She'd never had to rely on someone else. Never...

  Bloody hell.

  Don't think about it. You can't change things, so don't think about it.

  But she could remember what it was like, having the mutant ripped from her, forced out of her, unleashed without her control. She flexed her hand. Mind rape. The sensation went through her, the memory of those claws digging into her mutant. She barely suppressed a shudder.

  Shaque glanced at her.

  Forcing her attention back to the subject at hand, Elyse leaned forward and tapped the screen, brining up a visual of the plan of Sarita's home. “We have her profile, her guards, and her home plan. Now we just need to get a handle on her movements so we can plan."

  "Her movements won't be available to us until we're on Ceron, and can put her under surveillance.” Shaque rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But the pack might be able to get an accounting of her general movements."

  Elyse looked at him. “They shouldn't become involved."

  "Oh?” Reaching out, Shaque typed something onto the keyboard, and the Bounty Hunter data bank came up in the corner of the screen. Typing in his private code, he accessed the files, selected one, and sat back. When the photo image came up, he smiled coldly and sat back. “Look familiar to you?"

  A much younger Sarita looked back at Elyse. A teenager of sixteen years, and already high on the Most Wanted lists with a string of crimes attached to her, including murder.

  "Shaque, you tell your pack Sarita is in the Lawful Sector and they'll hunt her down. They can't go near her, capture her, chase her—nothing. She's my kill."

  "They won't touch her,” Shaque replied. “But they will put her under surveillance for us."

  "Us?” she repeated sceptically.

  "Me."

  "And they can't tell Sabra."

  "They won't.” He gestured to the viscomm. “Finished with this?"

  "For now. Once we know her movements, we can study it more."

  "How do I remove it?"

  Elyse typed the commands in and the information on Sarita went back into the memory banks of the viscomm. She transferred a copy to her handtronic to study at leisure.

  Shaque typed in more commands, and within seconds Abra's face came on-screen. His expression was relieved, until he caught sight of Elyse.

  She gave him a cold smile of amusement.

  He scowled back, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

  Lazily pushing upright, she left Shaque to talk to his pack, figuring they'd talk more freely without her presence.

  Going into the living area, she curled up in an armchair and took the handtronic out of the drawer in the little table in front of her. Flicking it on, she scrolled through for information on The Overlord, but the mention was very brief and didn't tell her anything she didn't already know. In fact, she knew more than what was in the information data bank.

  Dropping her head back against the backrest, she stared up at the ceiling. She knew how she felt, being forced to do The Overlord's bidding, and, she didn't fool herself, with no real assurance that he'd keep his word, but how did Shaque feel?

  Sure, he'd agreed under duress, but he seemed to be quite calm about the whole thing. Was he really going to simply agree with anything she said, follow her wherever she went, until this mess was over?

  That wasn't the Shaqu
e she knew. But then again, did she really know him?

  Sort of. More than most people, anyway.

  * * * *

  "You mean this Sarita, one of the most wanted women, is on Ceron?” Abra looked astonished; no mean feat for someone who wasn't easily surprised.

  "Exactly. Are you near there? Is anyone?"

  A gleam entered Abra's eyes. “Oh, we can be there in a week and pick her up—"

  "No. Surveillance only. Elyse and I need her."

  Surprise changed to confusion. “You and Elyse?"

  "She's part of our hunt."

  "I thought you were hunting your sister?"

  "Nerissa is dead.” Shaque took a deep breath. “Other things have been happening."

  "What other things?"

  For the first time in his life, Shaque debated how much to tell his friend. His best friend. They'd never kept anything from each other, except for personal history. They'd been together as part of Cormac's pack since Shaque was sixteen, and Abra twenty four years of age. They'd known each other for ten years, and been through every imaginable danger, backing each other up, standing beside each other, even taking laser fire for each other.

  Abra's eyes narrowed. “I'm not going to like this, am I?"

  "Depends. You might get a kick out of it."

  "Going by the look on your face, I doubt it."

  Shaque needed Abra's help, and he trusted him implicitly. He needed someone on the outside working for him and Elyse, and who better than the man he'd trust with his own life?

  There were a few things he wasn't going to tell Abra, though. There were a few things that were Elyse's personal business, and should only stay between her and him. Such as not being able to control her mutant properly.

  "It's a long story,” Shaque said. “Are you alone?"

  "Yeah. Everyone else is in the tavern. I stayed onboard ship."

  "I'm telling you the full story. You can tell the pack. But it goes no further.” Shaque's looked steadily at him. “This is a potentially explosive situation; I may need your back-up when the time comes."

  Abra nodded. By the time Shaque had finished telling him the story, leaving out only a few things, his friend was gaping in shock.

  "Bloody hell,” he said.

  "So, will you keep this Sarita under surveillance until we get there? Transmit what you find out to me?"

  "Of course, but ... sweet God Almighty. You and Elyse?"