Guardian
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
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Teaser chapter
Praise for WARRIOR
“A wonderful science fiction romantic suspense.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“The character chemistry is gorgeous; the sex is searing hot; the world fascinating and a joy to explore. All in all, a great book!”
—Errant Dreams Reviews
JANE’S WARLORD
“What an awesome, scintillating, and sexy book! Jane’s Warlord is intriguing, extremely sensuous, and just plain adventurous. A star is born.”—Romantic Times (Top Pick)
“Chills, thrills, and a super hero and heroine will have readers racing through this sexy tale. Take note, time-travel fans, the future belongs to Knight!”
—USA Today bestselling author Emma Holly
“[Angela Knight’s] world is believable and her plotting fast-paced. Knight’s fictional world seems to have a promising future.”
—Booklist
“Solid writing . . . sexy love scenes, and likable characters. I look forward to [Knight’s] next book.”
—All About Romance
“Amusing . . . Exciting . . . Anyone who enjoys strong women kicking butt . . . will enjoy this.”
—Midwest Book Review
“A fantastic story of a love that never died.”
—A Romance Review
“Exhilarating . . . Delightful.”
—The Best Reviews
MASTER OF THE NIGHT
“Her novels are spicy, extremely sexy, and truly fabulous . . . Complex and intriguing . . . Loads of possibilities for future sensual adventures.”
—Romantic Times
“A terrific paranormal romantic suspense thriller that never slows down until the final confrontation between good and evil. The action-packed story line moves at a fast clip.”
—Midwest Book Reviews
Further praise for the novels of Angela Knight
“Nicely written, quickly paced, and definitely on the erotic side.”
—Library Journal
“The sex scenes were explosive and should have come with a warning for the reader to have a fire extinguisher handy during reading.”
—Euro-Reviews
“Delicious . . . Wonderfully crafted . . . Angela Knight brings such life to her characters and to the world she’s created for them that readers can’t help but believe in magic.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“If you like alpha heroes, wild rides, and pages that sizzle in your hand, you’re going to love [Angela Knight]!”
—New York Times bestselling author J. R. Ward
“From the first page Ms. Knight has me hook, line, and sinker . . . Titillating and action-packed.”
—A Romance Review
“Exceptionally written, refreshing.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
“Will have readers . . . aroused.”
—A Romance Review
“Fresh . . . Hot sex. You are sure to enjoy.”
—The Best Reviews
“Erotic . . . The love scenes are steamy and sensuous—some of the best I’ve read.”
—SFRA Review
“Ms. Knight has combined the erotic with the romantic and made a classic tale.”
—Just Erotic Romance Reviews (Gold Star Rating)
“[A hero] to make any woman hot with desire.”
—In the Library Reviews
Berkley Sensation Titles by Angela Knight
Mageverse Series
MASTER OF THE NIGHT
MASTER OF THE MOON
MASTER OF WOLVES
MASTER OF SWORDS
MASTER OF DRAGONS
The Time Hunters Series
JANE’S WARLORD
WARRIOR
GUARDIAN
CAPTIVE DREAMS
(with Diane Whiteside)
MERCENARIES
Anthologies
HOT BLOODED
(with Christine Feehan, Maggie Shayne, and Emma Holly)
BITE
(with Laurell K. Hamilton, Charlaine Harris, MaryJanice Davidson,
and Vickie Taylor)
KICK ASS
(with Maggie Shayne, MaryJanice Davidson, and Jacey Ford)
OVER THE MOON
(with MaryJanice Davidson, Virginia Kantra, and Sunny)
BEYOND THE DARK
(with Emma Holly, Lora Leigh, and Diane Whiteside)
SHIFTER
(with Lora Leigh, Alyssa Day, and Virginia Kantra)
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
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(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
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(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
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South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
GUARDIAN
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / May 2009
Copyright © 2009 by Julie Woodcock.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form
without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in
violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISB
N : 978-1-101-05051-4
BERKLEY® SENSATION
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY® SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
http://us.penguingroup.com
As with all my books, I relied on my wonderful team of critique partners and readers to help me make Guardian as strong as possible. My dear friends Diane Whiteside and Margaret Riley were, as always, hugely helpful with plotting and brain-storming. Kate Douglas, a kind friend and outstanding writer, offered encouragement. Other readers include Linda Kusiolek and my wonderful Bookdragon, Virginia Ettel, who also moderates my Yahoo! Group with Diane’s help. And then there’s Roberta Brown, my personal agent goddess, who patiently read and commented on early drafts.
I also want to thank my computer genius brother-in-law, David Woodcock, who helped me speculate on future cybernetics. His knowledge of science and science fiction is invaluable.
My editor, Cindy Hwang, was, as always, both patient and encouraging. Her assistant, Leis Pederson, is always ready to help with anything I need, and I appreciate her deeply.
Most of all, I want to dedicate this book to my own personal hero, Mike Woodcock, husband extraordinaire, whose patience and love keeps me going.
Prologue
New York, 1993
Nick Wyatt lay sprawled across the twin bed, one wiry arm flung over his tearstained face. He felt vaguely ashamed. He was fourteen, dammit. He shouldn’t be crying like a little girl.
But his mother was gone. For his entire life, she’d protected him, hidden him, run with him from the men . . . no, aliens who sought to kill them both. He vividly remembered the way she’d looked the night they’d been cornered. The Stone had burned on her upper arm, glowing like a star as she’d punched and kicked, fighting off the six armored aliens like Jackie Chan.
She’d told him the Stone wouldn’t allow its power to be used in direct attacks. Which was stupid, if you asked him. But she’d found it could be used to amplify physical strength and protect fragile muscle and bone from impact with armored flesh.
They’d been so much bigger than she was in their red and black scaled suits. When he was little, he’d called them the Snake Men, but that sounded dumb to him now. And anyway, his mother said they weren’t snakes. But they were strong, and they had swords that could cut through anything, kind of like light sabers. His mother had killed two of them with their own weapons, then grabbed him and run. They’d lost the aliens in back alleys of the city, as she carried him through the darkness in long, superhuman bounds. Her face above him had been set with a combination of fear and determination, her eyes hollow with a terrible aloneness.
“There’s no one I can count on to help protect you,” she’d told him once. “And protecting you is the only thing that matters.”
She’d devoted her entire life to teaching him everything she knew about avoiding the aliens, fighting the aliens, hiding from the aliens. She was very good at fighting and running and hiding. But that hadn’t saved her two days ago.
The question of how she’d died nagged at him like a deep, bleeding wound. All he knew was that he’d been playing Sonic the Hedgehog when the Stone had suddenly appeared around his upper arm. He’d heard his mother’s dying voice coming from it, telling him she loved him and that he must survive.
And then there was nothing else.
He’d blown his Sega into a thousand ricocheting shards with a blast of light—and pure rage. He didn’t care. Not about that stupid game, not about anything.
You must eat, the Stone said. It had taken to talking to him in the last day. He wasn’t even sure if the deep, thrumming voice was real. You haven’t eaten in two days.
“Fuck you,” he snarled. “You didn’t protect her. It was your job, and you didn’t protect her.”
There were too many for her. And it was time for me to come to you.
Nick slammed his foot into the wall, leaving a deep dent in the plasterboard. “Fuck off.”
The girl needs you. She is dying.
That was new. A girl? The Stone hadn’t mentioned her before. Not that Nick gave a rat’s ass. “I don’t care about some stupid girl. I care about my mother, and you let her die!”
So you will let the girl die, too? There was disappointment in the deep, velvet voice. Almost like the father on a sitcom who’d caught his kid doing something wrong. Nick had never had a father like that. Heck, he didn’t even know who his father was. You could save her. You could keep her parents from grieving as you grieve. I could help you. Look . . .
Suddenly he was in a dark room. The walls were strange, curving, dimly lit by a red light that seemed to have no source. And he was tied. Something cold and metallic circled his wrists and ankles, pinning him spread-eagle to a chilly, smooth surface. Jerking his head up, Nick saw strange symbols marked on the floor around him. Like some kind of spell . . .
His gaze fell on a statue at his feet. It was only about two feet high, but it looked like solid gold, except for black eyes that seemed to stare at Nick with hungry intensity. Two golden horns crowned its head, with a third protruding between them. It was naked, and its cock was huge. Nick recoiled at the sheer threatening dirtiness of it.
What the hell was going on? He was obviously having some kind of vision. His mother used to have those all the time. Her eyes would go out of focus, and her body would twitch as fear and worry chased each other across her face. Most of the visions were warnings from the Stone, some of which she told him about. Some she’d refused to describe at all.
“Let me go!” Nick screamed the words, but it wasn’t him screaming, and it wasn’t his voice. It was a girl’s. And the words—whatever language she was speaking, it wasn’t English. He didn’t know how he understood it. “My father’s going to kill you!” she yelled. “My wolf is going to rip out your throat!”
My wolf?
A male voice laughed. “Oh, no doubt. No one escapes the Death Lord and his dog.” A man walked into her line of vision. He was massive, with a ring of short silver horns crowning his head. His eyes were red, slitted like a reptile’s. “But by then, you’ll be dead. A sacrifice to the Victor.”
That’s how they look without their armor, the Stone whispered.
That’s an alien? Nick could believe it. Evil-looking bastard.
The man crouched at the girl’s feet. “You know, I was your age when your father killed mine. Just twelve years old. Son of the great general Gavoni Jutka.” His mouth curled into a snarl of black rage. “Who was butchered by the Death Lord, thus preventing the rightful conquest of your stinking little planet!” His voice rose toward a roar.
“Jutka ordered the murder of my father’s combat team!” the girl snarled back. Nick had to admire her courage, though he wished she had the sense to keep her mouth shut. “He deserved exactly what he got!”
“So does yours, you bitch.” Red eyes narrowed. “And I’m going to make sure he gets it.” He straightened to his full height. “You’re a little skinny, and a bit young for my taste, but I could”—his hand descended to stroke his groin—“ignore your flaws. If it meant seeing the look on Baran Arvid’s face when I tell him I took you before I slit your throat and let you bleed out at the Victor’s feet.” His mouth curled into a vicious grin. “A fitting sacrifice to our great god.” He turned and bowed deeply to the golden statue.
Nick could have cared less about the alien’s god. He was too busy trying to digest the horror of the bastard’s threat. Didn’t he say she’s only twelve? Jesus! I’ve got to do something! A blast . . .
Would not work. They are too far away for even my power. But Baran, her father, searches for her. Reach for him. Show him where she is.
But I don’t know where she is!
You must find out. Reach for them. Feel them.
How?
That
is for you to determine. Your test.
He wanted to tell the Stone what it could do with its tests, but the alien was describing exactly what he intended to do to the little girl. The words were so filthy, she didn’t entirely understand what he was saying, but Nick knew. He could feel it in the bastard’s mind.
Had they done that to his mother? Had they . . . gloated like that?
Her father. He had to find this Baran Arvid. Nick could imagine him out there somewhere, thinking of her, panic clawing at his heart, the same sick, empty, helpless fear Nick felt. It was too easy to imagine how he’d feel if the alien carried out his threats on that helpless little girl.
There. Driving fear, somewhere in the distance, with a fierce, cold strength behind it. A grown man’s mind, a warrior’s intelligence. Nick reached for the Power of the Stone, flung himself for that distant point of will. He felt the rush of energy, a sense of speed, as that cool intelligence approached. He struck it hard . . .
And bounced.
Nick floated in darkness, stunned, blinking. It took him a moment to figure out what had just happened.
Baran’s mind had blocked him out. It was as if the man’s skull was enclosed in a solid steel bubble.
Like hell. Gritting his teeth, Nick gathered his power and drove against that shield again. And again, battering at it, shouting, screaming. Baran strode on, unhearing, unaware of his desperate attempts.