Wulf and the Bounty Hunter

by Gail Koger

  The stranger reached for me.

  The last thing I heard was Wulf’s frightening battle cry echoing down the corridor.

  My internal radar kept screaming. Danger! Danger! Danger! Danger! I frowned. Why was I on the floor? And Goddess, did my head hurt. The sounds of a fight had my eyes flying open. Funny little black dots danced in my vision. I shook my head to clear it.

  Everything came rushing back. Oh Goddess! The stranger.

  His big body went flying by, and he landed with a graceless splat on the cold metal deck.

  A very wet and naked Wulf grabbed the stranger by the throat and lifted him. “No one harms my mate.”

  The stranger kneed Wulf in the gut and followed up with a palm strike to the chin, breaking my warlord’s grip.

  The stranger hit the floor and kicked out, knocking Wulf off his feet.

  Wulf teleported.

  The stranger teleported.

  Without warning, they were back, pounding the hell out of each other.

  Poof. They were gone again.

  Poof. They reappeared. The stranger rapidly swung his right arm. Jab. Jab.

  Wulf blocked, feinted, and unleashed a dozen rapid-fire punches.

  The stranger reeled back, wiped the blood off his face, and launched himself at Wulf.

  Voss popped in and watched for a moment. “Want to tell me why they’re fighting?”

  The battle commander was way too calm for the stranger to be Malik. I scrambled to my feet. “Sure. I was walking down the hallway, minding my own business, and that jerk attacked me for no reason.”

  “I see. Did he identify himself?”

  “Nope, just grabbed me. I thought he was Malik, and I was doing my level best to kill him when the creep zapped me with some kind of mental lightning bolt. Wham. The next thing I know, I’m on floor trying not to pass out.”

  “And Wulf found you that way?”

  “He did. You’re not going to break it up?”

  “No, Zarek wants the pleasure.”

  The second Voss said that, the Overlord teleported in, and the two combatants jumped back from each other like scalded cats. “Explain.”

  Wulf snarled. “He attacked my mate.”

  “You brought me here to train her. I wanted to see what the female was capable of in a crisis, but I was never told she had bionics,” the stranger retorted.

  “Surprise,” I muttered under my breath.

  “The female never once used her mental abilities to defend herself,” the stranger finished in disgust.

  What an ass. “The female has a name. It’s Yakira, or you can call me my lady. Either one will do. How do I put this so your simple male brain can understand? I wanted you dead. I’m not strong enough to kill you with my mind, but I am with my bionics.”

  “You’re not strong enough period,” the stranger interjected.

  I gave him the one-finger salute. If he didn’t know what it meant, too bad. “Want to go another round?”

  Wulf choked back a laugh.

  Zarek’s menacing gaze fell on me. “Quinn is the head of Earth’s Siren program. I summoned him here to train you in the proper use of your talents.”

  Oh joy.

  “He’s also your blood kin.”

  I dug in my ear. Surely, I had misunderstood him. “Come again?”

  Voss rubbed a hand over his mouth as if to keep from laughing. “Quinn is your second cousin, and I know he wishes to apologize for his actions today.”

  I waited expectantly.

  His teeth clenched together, Quinn mumbled, “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

  No, he wasn’t. “And I’m sorry I broke your nose and gave you two black eyes.”

  Quinn’s body stiffened in anger. “I received those injuries from my battle with Wulf, not from your feeble blows.”

  Feeble? I seriously considered unleashing a telekinetic blow to his groin. Bet he still had his balls.

  “No, Yakira,” Wulf rumbled on our private link. “You can kick him in the balls after he trains you.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Isn’t there someone else who could teach me?”

  “Quinn’s the best.”

  “If you say so, but he needs an attitude adjustment.”

  “He does, and the Overlord will see to it.”

  I gave Zarek a big smile. “Have I told you how much I like you?”

  “Yes, at the party last night, when we were dancing the tango,” Zarek responded with a toothy smile of his own.

  “Oh.” We danced? What the heck was the tango? And why couldn’t I remember?

  The Overlord leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Too much wine.”

  “Oh.” I was never drinking again, and why was he speaking to me in High Coletti? Did he know I understood it?

  “Wulf, you have two minutes to dress and get to the war room.”

  Being a good little warlord, Wulf vanished.

  Zarek turned his attention to Quinn. “Have the medic tend to the injuries Yakira inflicted on you.”

  Poof. Quinn was gone.

  The Overlord held out his hand. “Come.”

  I looked at it in horror. He wanted me to touch him? A brief memory of Zarek twirling me around his shoulders flashed through my mind. Oh Goddess! I had danced with him. This was bad on so many levels.

  Voss chortled. “The females used to flock to you, eager for your touch.”

  “Detja frowns on that kind of behavior now.” Zarek inspected me, like a scientist studying an interesting but odd specimen. “Have you lost your ability to obey?”

  “No, my lord.” I quickly placed my hand in his.

  Zarek clamped me to his rock-hard chest and teleported.

  Chapter Nine

  We appeared in the Overlord’s war room. The walls were covered with instruments of death. Swords, knives, laser pistols, rifles, war hammers, and what looked like a variety of thermite grenades.

  My brother Colburn and several high-ranking Coletti warriors were sitting at the long platinum conference table. Built into the right arm of each chair was a high-tech control panel.

  I wiggled against Zarek’s hold. He was freaking me out. I could literally feel the power thrumming within him.

  He released me and pulled out a chair. “Sit.”

  I sat.

  Voss chose a chair beside the Overlord.

  Wulf popped in and took the seat next to me.

  I linked with him. “What exactly did I do last night?”

  “You had a good time,” my mate responded diplomatically.

  “Define a good time.”

  An image formed in my frazzled brain. His tentacles bobbing along with the music, Bebo spun me around the room. Two minutes of the stomach-heaving death twirl, and I puked all over him. “Oh. Anything else?

  With startling graphic clarity, pictures formed in my mind. Ziyad and I were on top of a table, doing a swell imitation of the erotic bump-bump dance the pleasure houses were famous for.

  Utterly appalled at my actions, I dropped my head on the table and groaned, “Just kill me now.”

  Wulf squeezed my knee. “Your bump-bump dance was quite good. The warriors enjoyed it immensely.”

  I would never be able to look any of them in the face again.

  Quinn sauntered into the room and dropped into the chair across from me. “They say you are a locator.”

  Just what I needed to make my day complete. I gave Quinn the stink eye. “I did find Bedan and Kalja.”

  “But can you locate Malik?”

  “He’ll be harder to track. I need something he’s worn.”

  Voss gave Quinn the Coletti version of the evil eye. “We have the matter in hand.”

  Quinn’s mouth twitched in annoyance.

  On a private link with Wulf, I asked, “How is this guy still breathing?”

  “His sister is mated to my son,” Zarek answered for him.

  “Oh. Gotcha. Family.” Yikes. I turned to Wulf. “
Why didn’t you tell me he was listening in?”

  He shrugged. “You never asked.”

  Incensed, I shot back, “Like I’ve never asked how many females you’ve boinked?”

  Wulf regarded me warily. “Why are you bringing that up now?”

  “Children, we have more important matters to deal with.” There was a note of warning in Zarek’s voice.

  Some days my mouth engaged before my brain. This was one of those days. I owed Wulf another apology. “It won’t happen again, my lord.”

  “Good.”

  The Gorum squished through the door and slithered into the room.

  I flashed Bebo an apologetic look. “Sorry I puked on you.”

  “Kall wine does not agree with you.” A tentacle patted my head gently. “And I should have realized humans can’t handle my rather energetic dance moves.”

  The Overlord’s fingers drummed an impatient tattoo on the table. “Are we done socializing?”

  “Yes, she is,” Wulf answered, squeezing my knee painfully.

  Ouch! I was only trying to be polite, and I was still a bit hungover.

  Zarek’s gaze settled on Bebo. “You were able to retrieve them?”

  “Yes.” Bebo hacked up a clear bag filled with bloody clothing onto the table.

  His digestive juices flowed across the table and dripped on the floor. Ewww. Was that a finger?

  A head suddenly bulged out from Bebo’s side, its mouth opened in an endless scream. A foot kicked frantically. The Gorum stuffed a tentacle down his maw, pulled out some metal teeth, and dropped them on the table.

  Guess he stopped for some Tai-Kok takeout.

  Voss opened the bag, took out a filthy battle suit, and held it out to me. “Can you locate Malik with this.”

  Very gingerly, I took the clothing from him and placed it on the table. The battle suit reeked of sweat and death. “I’ll need a star chart.”

  Zarek pushed a button on his control panel, and a holographic star chart appeared over the table.

  Closing my eyes, I held a hand over Malik’s clothing and focused every ounce of power I had on finding him. A vision of an Askole donut-shaped space station formed in my mind. It was a poorly armed and used mainly by traders to sell their goods. I touched the star map. “Here. He’s here.”

  “I’ll have the pilot set a course to the Najea space station,” Voss said.

  Visions of fire erupted in my head. Agony. Terrible agony tore through my brain. “Malik is attacking the station.”

  Wulf linked with me as more images tumbled into my mind. Chaos. Death. A mechanical voice warned, “Hull breach level four. Loss of life support imminent.”

  There was a sick, hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. Malik’s ship was leaving. “Too late. We’re too late.”

  “Search for survivors,” Zarek commanded.

  I sensed the brainwaves of two Askole warriors. “Two still live.”

  Voss asked, “Where?”

  “The control room.”

  “I will retrieve them,” Raj offered. A brilliant golden light popped into existence. The light spun faster and faster until a vortex formed. Hurricane-force winds blew through the room.

  For a brief second I went airborne.

  Wulf grabbed the back of my battle suit and pulled me down.

  Raj was sucked into the vortex. With a loud pop, the tornado vanished.

  The Overlord’s fangs were bared in an angry snarl. “What were the last coordinates you sensed Malik at, Yakira?”

  Alarmed at Zarek’s full, undivided attention, I babbled, “The Mirador system. I think he was heading toward the planet Manang.”

  “Malik still has allies among the Rodan and Tai-Kok. The Rodan established a small base on Manang two months ago,” Voss inserted.

  My hands curled into fists. After they ate every living thing first. A few vids of the massacre had made it off planet. The images still haunted me.

  Colburn interjected, “According to our ship’s log, Halvor the Betrayer and Brynjar made two trips to Manang recently.”

  That caught the Overlord’s interest. “What was their cargo?”

  “Avici ale.”

  I snorted. Not likely. “Anybody else find it suspicious they visited Manang right after Pindick and his brothers hit that weapons depot?”

  “An excellent point,” Voss agreed.

  Wulf added, “The Alliance recovered all but two crates of the thermite grenades. One of the missing crates was full of garrison killers.”

  “Molotov nerve gas or the more virulent Gryffon?” The Overlord actually looked worried.

  “Gryffon,” Wulf answered.

  Why hadn’t the Rodan eaten Halvor the Betrayer and Brynjar? They would have done the galaxy a favor. A wave of weariness rolled over me. Tracking Malik had wiped me out.

  Wulf scooped me up. “With your permission, my lord, I need to attend to my mate.”

  “Go.”

  There was a fleeting second of black, and we were back in Wulf’s quarters.

  “What’s up?”

  He bit into his arm and held it out to me. “Drink.”

  “But—”

  “You’re exhausted. My blood will give you the strength you need to track and find Malik. We do not want to disappoint the Overlord. Do we?”

  “No. That would be bad. Very bad.” I had pushed Zarek’s patience to the limit.

  “And as an added bonus, you’ll soon be strong enough to defeat Quinn.”

  That perked me up. I really, really wanted to kick Quinn’s ass, and if it took drinking gallons of Wulf’s blood to accomplish that goal, so be it. I latched on to his arm and started sucking. Strange. His blood was starting to taste pretty good. Energy flowed into me. My headache vanished, and I felt like I could conquer the universe.

  “You have conquered my heart,” Wulf said. He settled his lips over mine in a wild, demanding kiss.

  I sighed at the feel of his mouth on mine. It was heaven. Pure heaven. An aching need blossomed inside me.

  Zarek inquired cynically, “Another anatomy lesson?”

  We jumped apart.

  “No, my lord, it’s a kissing lesson,” I replied.

  Wulf raised his eyes heavenward as if imploring the Goddess for help.

  “All lessons will cease until you are twenty-one and Malik has been captured.”

  “What? But that could take months,” I protested.

  Not budging an inch, Zarek responded, “It gives you the proper motivation to find Malik, and make no mistake, I want him found soon.”

  “Consider me motivated.”

  “Good. Return to the war room.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “The Overlord likes you,” Wulf said out of the blue.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He hasn’t killed you yet.”

  I smacked him in the arm. “Not funny.”

  “He did dance with you. That’s another sign he favors you.”

  “It wasn’t like he had a big choice. There were only two females at the party. Ziyad and me.”

  “The Overlord didn’t dance with Ziyad,” Wulf pointed out.

  “True. Maybe he wanted to keep his best hunter happy. I know I do.”

  Wulf’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re going to obey me without question?”

  “In combat situations, yes.”

  “I can live with that.” Wulf drew me to him and teleported.

  We appeared in the war room. An elderly Askole warrior was furiously banging on the table and demanding something in the Askole’s native tongue. It sounded like a bunch of guttural grunts and groans and some clucking.

  “Stay put,” Wulf ordered and walked over to the Overlord.

  I concentrated on what the Askole was saying. He wanted reparations for the loss of the space station. Like it was Zarek’s fault? The Askole wanted Malik’s head on a platter. He’d have to stand in line for that one. And the old coot wanted an apology from the Gorum for sliming
him during the rescue. Talk about ungrateful.

  My stomach clenched in sudden horror as I recognized the rasping voice. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t. He wasn’t missing an eye, was he? The Askole turned, exposing a gaping hole in his face. Oh Goddess. It was Ziyad’s grandfather, Pokham.

  He spotted me at the same time, and his good eye filled with a rage so intense, so inhuman that it sent a chill up my spine. “You!” He pulled his pistol and fired.

  As if in slow motion, I watched the laser beam zing toward me. It slammed into my chest. Intense pain rocketed through my body, and the blow sent me pinwheeling backward into the wall. Everything faded away.

  “Yakira!” Wulf shouted in my head over and over again.

  Why was Wulf so freaked out? Oh yeah, that evil old bastard had shot me. “Stop. Yelling. You’re giving me a headache.” I suddenly realized he had me cradled in his arms like I was the most precious thing in the universe. I patted his cheek. “Your wonderful battle armor saved my life.”

  “Thank the Goddess.”

  “No, thank you.” I reached up to kiss him and gasped. Yeow! Did my chest hurt.

  “She’s mine to kill. I have a death warrant. She’s mine to kill. I have a death warrant!” Pokham kept shouting from under a pile of Coletti warriors.

  “Get me back to my ship before he tries to kill me again,” I gasped.

  “After the medic checks you out.” Wulf stood up like I weighed nothing. Poof. We appeared in sick bay.

  The medic, an elderly Coletti, stood at attention. “How may I serve you, my lord?”

  “My mate was hit by a laser beam at close range.” Wulf set me down on the examining table.

  Grabbing a medical scanner, the medic ran it over me. “Her sternum is badly bruised. With your permission, I will treat her.”

  “You have my permission,” Wulf replied formally.

  In perfect High Coletti, I blurted out, “You’re not making me drink more of your blood?” I closed my eyes in horror and gave myself a mental head thump. Dumb. Dumb mistake.

  In the same Coletti language, Wulf asked with a gentleness that made me squirm nervously, “You understand High Coletti?”

  There was no sense in lying now. “Yes, I do.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You never asked. Besides, it gives me an advantage. You never know when you might hear something useful.”