from her enemies as she had strived to make her plans come together. She needed to fulfill her obligation to the mortal military, bringing her people down a peg by placing in human hands the means to level the field. It was a slippery slope. What would then keep the humans from mounting an all-out war against Morphates and using their new weapons to eradicate the interlopers entirely? But she could ask the same of Morphates who had guns. Good or bad, she had committed to her course and she would stick to the outcome. She refused to allow herself to consider what would happen should she fail. Things were already rising to a head between the feuding clans, as well as the racist Morphate and human factions. She knew she was racing against time.
The idea of losing the race woke her up at night screaming in terror and soaking in sweat.
She laughed nervously under her breath at herself, shaking her head and shoulders as if shedding water; only she was trying to shed her sensations of gloom and doom. It did no one any good to get fatalistic. She simply needed to concentrate on one stage at a time. It was the best she could do. Right now that meant concentrating on helping Nash and his people settle in, discussing routines, and sharing other details she thought pertinent. Devon didnât doubt that Nash would be inundating her with recommendations as well. She found herself looking forward to spending time with him. Perhaps over the next six months she would get to know him a little better.
In fact, she wanted to get to know everyone a little better. Including Mr. Carter Spencer. She had trusted him all of this time. Could he be a traitor? Had he actually allowed that murderer into her bedroom at the hotel, telling her enemy how, when, and where to find her? The mercury-filled bullet had gone completely through her leg, minimizing the damage, but leaving enough traces of the deadly metal behind to make healing excruciatingly slow even for one of her rapidly healing species. Her people could even heal themselves after decapitation if the body and head were reunited, no matter how long afterward. They did not decompose, their flesh immune to earthly bacteria and unappealing to flora and fauna that usually tried to break remains down. So long as the parts were joined and blood flow reestablished, there was nothing short of radical bombs that could do what one little dose of irradiated mercury could do.
She had been damn lucky that night. When she had disarmed her opponent and held his neck beneath her foot, he had gloated that she was as good as dead anyway because there was a ten-million-dollar price on her head. She had shot him repeatedly with his own weapon until her foot passed through nothing but vapor. And here it was a week later and she still hurt when she sat and limped when she walked if she wasnât paying close attention.
Infuriating.
When she got hold of whoever was behind the attacks . . . their days would be numbered. Alpha Council was going to pull them in quite sharply. And Liam Nash was going to help her do that.
There was a scuffing sound to her right and she looked up to see the devil himself looming in the doorway. He had struck a casual arm up against the doorframe, making all the muscles and lean lines up and down his left side flex in orchestrated male beauty. It took her breath away. Maybe that was why she had to inhale so slow and deep. It shouldnât have anything to do with her trying to get her fill of his incredible scent. Soap, sweat, and the bold aroma of the outdoors, all combined with that unique factor that was only Liam; that unique factor that made him so irrepressibly male. It swirled in her senses and set her nerves tingling at their ends. She couldnât help but smile.
Liam watched as she turned from her study of the monitors and speared him with those lichen green eyes, their polished surface gleaming with quick, intense thought as she recognized his presence. There was
The idea of losing the race woke her up at night screaming in terror and soaking in sweat.
She laughed nervously under her breath at herself, shaking her head and shoulders as if shedding water; only she was trying to shed her sensations of gloom and doom. It did no one any good to get fatalistic. She simply needed to concentrate on one stage at a time. It was the best she could do. Right now that meant concentrating on helping Nash and his people settle in, discussing routines, and sharing other details she thought pertinent. Devon didnât doubt that Nash would be inundating her with recommendations as well. She found herself looking forward to spending time with him. Perhaps over the next six months she would get to know him a little better.
In fact, she wanted to get to know everyone a little better. Including Mr. Carter Spencer. She had trusted him all of this time. Could he be a traitor? Had he actually allowed that murderer into her bedroom at the hotel, telling her enemy how, when, and where to find her? The mercury-filled bullet had gone completely through her leg, minimizing the damage, but leaving enough traces of the deadly metal behind to make healing excruciatingly slow even for one of her rapidly healing species. Her people could even heal themselves after decapitation if the body and head were reunited, no matter how long afterward. They did not decompose, their flesh immune to earthly bacteria and unappealing to flora and fauna that usually tried to break remains down. So long as the parts were joined and blood flow reestablished, there was nothing short of radical bombs that could do what one little dose of irradiated mercury could do.
She had been damn lucky that night. When she had disarmed her opponent and held his neck beneath her foot, he had gloated that she was as good as dead anyway because there was a ten-million-dollar price on her head. She had shot him repeatedly with his own weapon until her foot passed through nothing but vapor. And here it was a week later and she still hurt when she sat and limped when she walked if she wasnât paying close attention.
Infuriating.
When she got hold of whoever was behind the attacks . . . their days would be numbered. Alpha Council was going to pull them in quite sharply. And Liam Nash was going to help her do that.
There was a scuffing sound to her right and she looked up to see the devil himself looming in the doorway. He had struck a casual arm up against the doorframe, making all the muscles and lean lines up and down his left side flex in orchestrated male beauty. It took her breath away. Maybe that was why she had to inhale so slow and deep. It shouldnât have anything to do with her trying to get her fill of his incredible scent. Soap, sweat, and the bold aroma of the outdoors, all combined with that unique factor that was only Liam; that unique factor that made him so irrepressibly male. It swirled in her senses and set her nerves tingling at their ends. She couldnât help but smile.
Liam watched as she turned from her study of the monitors and speared him with those lichen green eyes, their polished surface gleaming with quick, intense thought as she recognized his presence. There was
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