Which was no surprise. Practice bots were notoriously tough. But then, they had to be. Most Enforcers were combat-rated cyborgs who did not pull their punches even in practice matches. Alerio certainly hadn’t.
“Don’t be too impressed.” Grimacing, he grabbed a towel from a nearby shelf and wiped his sweating face. When he started rubbing slow circles over his broad, slick chest, Dona’s eyes helplessly tracked the towel with more interest than was good for her.
“I doubt I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” the chief continued, apparently oblivious to her fascination. “That bot can hit almost as hard as Ivar.” With a wince of pain, he dug long fingers into the thick trapezius muscle that bulged between his neck and left shoulder as if trying to massage a knot that had coiled there. “But then, I did recalibrate its strength to match Ivar’s. I think the Xerans upgraded his tech again.”
“I thought so, too.” They’d done so at least once before, at least if you believed Ivar’s boasts. “When we fought six months ago, Ivar was a hell of a lot stronger than he’d ever been before. And he’s even more powerful now.” Frowning, she absently rubbed her face, where Ivar’s big fist had left so many bruises. “He certainly kicked my ass.”
“What do you expect? He’s half a meter taller than you are—and fifty kilos heavier,” Alerio told her bluntly. “Add in the genetically engineered bones and the triple-thick nanofiber reinforced muscles, and you’ve got a battleborg monster. That’s not even counting whatever the hell the Xerans did to upgrade his tech.”
She shuddered. “I noticed.”
“You’d better. Just look at what he did to Lolai Hardin . . .”
“Okay, okay, I get it. He’s a psychopath.” Dona folded her arms and avoided his sharp gaze. “I don’t know whether he’s always been twisted, or if the Xerans did something to him . . .”
“Either way, he’s a vicious son of a whore. You’d do well to keep the hell away from him.” The chief pulled a thick cloth towel from a wall dispenser and scrubbed it over his sweating face and torso before shooting it into a recycler. “Don’t worry—I’ll bring the fucker to justice. He’s going to pay for every last crime he ever committed.” His dark eyes seemed to add, Especially against you. “If you’re ever in the position of having to fight that bastard, run,” he continued. “Consider that a direct order. You can probably outrun him, but you can’t outfight him. Don’t even try.”
Stung out of her hypnotized fascination with his feral masculinity, Dona straightened. “I’m not exactly a wimp, Chief. I’m combat rated. Hell, I went in for a level six upgrade just last year. I could wipe up the floor with ten humans Ivar’s size.”
Alerio shook his head. “Impressive as that is, it doesn’t mean shit when it comes to Ivar.”
She gave him a tight smile. “Never underestimate the power of pissed.”
The chief sighed. “Dona, you’re one of my best agents. You’re smart, strong, and hell on wheels in a fight.” His gaze met hers with rough honesty. “But Ivar is. Not. Human. If he ever manages to get you alone, run like hell. I don’t want you ending up like Lolai Hardin, and you came too damned close.”
“Hardin’s life was at stake.” Dona raised her chin and met his intent stare with her own. “I couldn’t leave her, not as long as she was still alive.”
Alerio folded his massive arms and rocked back on his heels. And loomed. “Which would have done her no good at all if Ivar had killed you.”
Remembering the wounds that spoke of the torture, Dona looked away. “You’re assuming I deserve any better.”
“Oh, for the sweet sake of the Goddess . . . !”
“You can’t deny if I’d been more suspicious of Ivar’s crap, less willing to believe whatever shit he fed me, maybe I would have realized he was a traitor before his fist hit my face. Maybe I could have prevented what happened to Jess, or Corydon’s virus attack, or . . .”
“Stop,” Alerio snapped. “Just cut it out, Dona. I’m tired of watching you torment yourself.” One long pace brought him so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. He stared down at her with eyes that burned in the shadows of his thick brows. “You are not responsible for Ivar’s crimes.”
All she had to do was reach out and touch that bare, sweating chest. She could feel the heat, the vital male power, radiating across the inches between them. So seductive . . .
“You aren’t the commander of this station, Astryr,” he continued, apparently oblivious to her hungry gaze. “It’s not your job to protect your people from greedy, treasonous assholes. That was my ball to drop.”
“I’m still Temporal Enforcement. And it is my job to know when I’m being lied to.” She curled her hands into fists so tight, her nails dug into her palms hard enough to draw blood. Trying to hold onto some vestige of control. “But when it came to Ivar, I completely missed all the signs.”
“So? All that proves is that you’re human,” he growled roughly.
“And so are you.” Dona gazed up into his roughly handsome, angular face, the genuinely sensual mouth, the deep hollows and fierce eyes that burned even in the well-lit room. A Warlord’s eyes shone red like that in riaat—or moments of passion.
Rage or desire? Dona thought. Which made those black eyes burn?
She opened a stinging hand and reached out, scarcely aware of what she did. The tips of her fingers brushed the hot skin of his chest, still heaving from his fight with the combot.
A bead of sweat rolled slowly down his right pectoral, sliding around the taught, brown peak of one male nipple.
Dona had never felt as starkly aware of a man as a being of raw sex, raw aggression. Raw need. She could feel his heart pounding under her fingers as the crimson sparks brightened, as if the emotion he felt was intensifying. Growing as hot as his eyes.
They stared at one another, unspeaking. Suspended in a moment of mutual awareness. Her lips parted, and her heartbeat began to pound in her ears. Each lush minute crept by on velvet paws, stropping over her skin like a cat.
“Dona,” Alerio said, voice hoarse, eyes hot. “Aren’t you tired of regret?” He lowered his head until his breath puffed warm against her lips. Almost a kiss. Almost. The sensation teased and maddened her. “Don’t you want to feel something more than guilt?”
Hypnotized, she stared into the scarlet sparks deep in those night-dark eyes. “Yes. Gods, yes.”
He groaned. His mouth touched hers. Just a soft brush of lip on lip at first, not demanding. Requesting. “Are you sure?” he breathed.
“Help me feel something else,” she murmured back. “Anything else. I’m so sick of regret. And guilt tastes like coals and ash.”
He made a low, fierce sound, dragging her against his chest with powerful arms and hands that trembled. Parting her lips with a sound as much moan as sigh, Dona let him in. His tongue slipped deep in a slow, erotic stroke. The heat of that delicate probe raced right to the base of her belly.
And set her aflame.
Heat raced through her, a blaze of red need stronger than anything she’d ever felt for any other man. Even—especially—Ivar. So she whispered the stark truth she’d always fought to hide against those velvet lips. “I want you. I shouldn’t. Gods, I know I shouldn’t. It’s not smart.”
“No, it’s not smart at all,” he agreed in a rough whisper. “And I don’t give a pile of Soji shit.”
“Neither do I.” Dona leaned in, letting him gather her in until his big, hard body pressed the length of hers.