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A Sneak Peek at Her Cyborg Rangers

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Chapter One

The Bar None was quiet for the moment, but Jade knew that wouldn’t last. She’d thought the place was hopping in the winter months, but spring had brought even more customers flocking to the only human-run tavern in Haven colony. She had less than an hour to finish up with the bar droids and then test them to see if her upgrades had any unintended consequences before business picked up.

Kneeling behind the bar wasn’t comfortable, but it was the only way to do a visual scan of the new code. While she worked, she did her best not to think about how much easier this would be if she still had her implants. They’d been ripped out of her during interrogation sessions she’d endured while a prisoner of corporate-backed mercenaries. She’d been one of the best cyber-jockeys in the known systems before the fraxxing mercs had caught her. Now? She was stuck in normal space forever, interacting with machines one keystroke at a time.

Of all the sacrifices she’d been willing to make to escape from Earth, she’d never imagined she would have to give up one of her defining qualities.

The calm was suddenly broken by the thud of booted feet on the tavern’s veranda accompanied by rough male laughter. Someone shoved the door open hard enough it flew back to strike the wall with a loud bang.

Jade froze, her hands locking into fists as an icy chill flowed down her spine. She struggled to think, to move, to do something besides cower like a wounded animal, but she stayed where she was, teeth clenched, muscles screaming with tension, and heart pounding so fast she felt sick.

This was the other price she’d paid for freedom—panic attacks. Her time as a prisoner had left her with more than physical scars, and she was still learning how to deal with the sudden, gut-churning fits of panic that could be triggered by something as simple as a loud noise. She was broken in ways no nanotech or surgery could fix.

Her best friend Maggie hurried out to greet the customers, deliberately standing beside Jade and placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Welcome to the Bar None. Take a seat wherever you like. I’ll come around to take your drink orders in just a moment,” Maggie said.

Several of the new arrivals rumbled words of thanks, some in Vardarian, others in Galactic Common. Thanks to the translators implanted in all of Haven’s citizens, communication wasn’t hampered by language barriers.

“You okay?” Maggie murmured once the others had moved off.

“As a duck in peach sauce,” Jade replied. Her voice was tight and shaky, but she had breath enough to talk, so she’d call that a win.

Maggie snorted. “I swear you make up new expressions just to fraxx with me.”

“Don’t blame me. That was one of my father’s expressions. I have no idea what it means either.” The friendly banter was exactly what she needed to ground herself and regain control. She leaned against Maggie’s leg, trying to slow her breathing and relax her knotted muscles.

It took a few minutes before she was calm again. Then she tapped the screen she’d been working on and activated the upgraded bar system with a still-shaking hand.

“The system and the droids are good to go. We’ll want to test them before it gets busy,” Jade announced as she rose to her feet, determined to keep it together in front of Maggie and the others.

“I’ll test them. You’re on a break,” Maggie stated firmly.

Jade waved her off. “I’m fine. Just need to stretch my back after being crouched on the floor so long. Remind me to talk to Anya about moving the central hub somewhere more accessible.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes and then muttered low enough only Jade would hear her. “If you don’t take a break, I will tell Anya and Saral that you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“Whoa. You went straight to the nuclear option? How is that fair?” Jade protested. Saral and her two mates ran the tavern’s kitchen, creating some of the best food Jade had ever tasted. The Vardarian female was also a natural caregiver, and she was determined to provide Jade with food, advice, and mothering whether she wanted it or not.

“Who said anything about playing fair?” Maggie smiled and nudged her shoulder against Jade’s. “Grab a seat and relax for a few minutes. Saral has put together a plate for you already. If you don’t stop for a meal soon, she’s likely to come out here and glare at you until you’ve eaten every bite.”

Jade managed a small but genuine smile. “She’d do that. Wouldn’t she?”

“Without a doubt,” Maggie agreed. “She cares about you, Jaybird. We all do.”

Jade still didn’t know how to deal with that. Until Haven, Maggie had been her only friend—the one person she trusted to have her back. Haven was different. The beings here were kind, accepting, and honestly concerned about her. It made her uncomfortable, especially because she couldn’t offer much in return.

“I know, Magpie. It’s just weird. You know?” she replied, using Maggie’s nickname. Those names were part of their shared past, the years they’d spent on Earth, struggling to survive the hellhole that was the hive city known as Athens Two.

“I know. Remember, I’ve had a lot more time to get used to this place than you have.”

“Long enough to fall in love with a hot as hell cyborg and learn to be a badass with that fighting stick of yours.”

“Kes’tarv,” Maggie corrected her with a snicker. “If Striker or any of the others hear you call it a fighting stick, you’ll wound their egos.”

“Yeah? Then I should probably say it to my bookend bodyguards the next time they start looming over me.”

“They’re not looming,” Maggie protested and then threw up her hands defensively when Jade raised both brows and stared at her.

“Okay. They loom a little. They’re protective of you. It’s kind of sweet.”

“No, it isn’t. They get all growly with anyone who even tries to flirt with me, which doesn’t happen much as it is. They’ve got cock blocking down to an art form, and I don’t know why they’re doing it. It’s not like they’re interested. They don’t trust humans. Not that I can blame them.” She shrugged. “A lot of us are assholes.”

“Truth.”

Maggie caught her by the hand and dragged her back into the kitchen. “Now, get some food and take a break. Shoo.”

She did as she was told. Experience had taught her that a few minutes of rest after a panic attack lessened the aftereffects significantly. Saral waited in the kitchen. The Vardarian female made a disapproving clucking noise and then handed her a plate stacked high with the Vardarian version of sandwiches with a side order of spicey fried tubers.

“Sit. Eat. Rest,” Saral instructed. “You should have mates to take care of you, but yours are slower to come to their senses than most.”

“Mine?” Jade shook her head. “Who would want me?”

Saral snorted. “Is this some sort of human affliction? That none of you can see what is as clear as the sky on a sunny day to everyone else?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now, I’m going to follow your advice and find somewhere out of the way to eat this delicious meal. Thank you.” She nodded to Saral and then to her mates, Antas and N’tev, before fleeing. Saral was kind, generous, and determined to see everyone around her as happily mated as she was. Jade appreciated the female’s good intentions, but she was too broken for any man to want, no matter what their species.

The closest she had to male company were Wreckage and Ruin, but they treated her like a little sister, not a romantic interest. If she couldn’t even interest the two battle-scarred cyborgs who shadowed her like a pair of overprotective gargoyles, what chance did she have with anyone else?

She slipped into the tiny space they called a staff break room and sat down to eat. Three mouthfuls later, the door opened again.

“No need to check up on me, Saral. See? I’m sitting and eating as instructed.”

“It’s not Saral, but she did tell me to make sure you were eating.” Phaedra’s distinct voice and unexpected laughter filled the air, and Jade leaped to her feet. “Phreak? Uh, I mean Princess Phaedra. What are you doing here?”

The fuchsia-haired woman smiled and settled her very pregnant body onto the nearest chair. “I’m here to recruit you.”

*

Wreckage swung the axe with practiced ease, each strike taking another bite out of the trunk of the tree he and Ruin had chosen to harvest from the area around their cabin. The spring sunshine felt good on his bare back, the warmth soaking into his scarred skin. Every stroke of his blade filled the clearing with a crisp, satisfying thwack.

Birds sang in the trees and the breeze stirred a hundred branches and a thousand leaves as it blew through the forest. On the far side of their cabin, Ruin prepared a freshly fallen tree, trimming off the branches and peeling the bark. They’d need more logs to have enough to expand their home, but they had months of good weather ahead and plenty of incentive to get the job done.

It had only taken a single winter for them to realize they’d need more space if they were going to get through the cold, dark days of winter without killing each other, though it got easier once their young charge had been granted full citizenship and returned the colony. Cam had proven himself trustworthy and loyal to his new home.

If they moved back into Haven, they’d also be entitled to separate residences that would both be bigger than their hand-built domicile, but neither of them were ready for that. The colony was nice, but it lacked the calm and peace of the forest. After a lifetime of war and then confinement on Reamus Station, Wreckage needed solitude and quiet. The only exception to that rule was the company of his batch-brother, Ruin. The other colonists generally understood and gave them space, welcoming them when they came into town and leaving them alone the rest of the time. It was what they wanted. At least, it had been. Wreckage wasn’t sure about that anymore.

Another swing of his axe made the tree shudder and groan as it gave way. “Timber!” Wreckage called out as he moved adroitly out of the danger zone.

The tree dropped to the ground in a cacophony of breaking branches and tearing wood that ended with a thump he felt through the soles of his boots.

“Why do you insist on saying that when you have no idea what the fraxx it means?” Ruin demanded, his voice clear despite the distance between them.

“Because it’s faster than yelling, ‘Hey, asshole, pay attention to the big tree about to crush you!’” Wreckage called to his batch-brother.

Three seconds later, a fist-sized rock soared over the roof of the cabin. “Hey, asshole, watch out for the rock about to smack you!” Ruin yelled and then added, “Huh, your way is faster. Point to you.”

Wreckage didn’t bother to move. The rock would miss him by ten meters or so. “That gives me ten points. You know what that means?” This time he sent the message via an internal comm link so he didn’t have to shout.

“Fraxx,” Ruin swore inside his head. “Already?”

“Yep. Which once again confirms that I’m the smart one. We’re going into town tonight and the first round is on you.”

Ruin didn’t respond, which wasn’t normal. The two of them bickered like it was a sporting event, and they were both vying for the championship.

A moment later, Ruin appeared around the side of the cabin. His shoulders were tight, his hands fisted at his sides, and his face was twisted into a scowl. Great. Ruin was in one of his moods.

“Problem?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Ruin ran a hand through his dark hair and grunted before answering. “We’ve been in town too much lately. We should stay away for a while.”

“Because everyone is going to forget what we look like if we’re gone long enough? The Vardarians might, but the cyborgs have perfect recall,” Wreckage reminded his friend. This argument had been going on as long as they’d been on Liberty, and he was tired of it. Eventually, someone would figure out their secret. At some point, they’d have to face the consequences.

Ruin’s lips twitched into a momentary snarl. “I know. And I know we’ve had this conversation so many times we can both recite the other’s point of view verbatim, but I…” he trailed off and smacked his fist into his open palm.

“You think I’m looking forward to having that conversation?” Wreckage shot back.

“You’re acting like it.”

“Seriously? That’s the best argument you’ve got?” Wreckage set down the axe and folded his arms across his chest. “We can’t hide out here forever.”

“It’s only been a year,” Ruin argued. “What’s the harm in giving things more time?”

“More time for what? For our brethren to figure it out for themselves? Or for someone to put the moves on Jade while we’re out here hiding?”

“We’re not hiding.” Ruin smacked his fist into his palm again, but it lacked the force of his previous action. “We’re keeping a low profile, but we see Jade every week, and we’re there when she needs us. She’s still recovering. It’s too soon.”

“There’s a small vething gap between too soon and too late,” Wreckage grumbled. That thought had been niggling at the back of his mind for a while now. Jade was brave and tough for a human, but she was still human. They were so weak they’d created cyborgs to fight their wars for them. Jade was stronger and braver than most, but she’d endured hardships and cruelty for most of her life. Then she’d been captured and tortured by mercenaries. He and Ruin knew too well what kind of scars that left.

Jade needed time to heal. But how much? If they left her alone too long, someone else would move in and take the woman they wanted for themselves.

That couldn’t happen. She was the only woman he and Ruin had ever wanted for more than a night. He’d felt it since the moment he’d carried her out of the mercenaries’ ship. She belonged with them, but only when she was ready. Until then, he wanted to stay close enough to ensure they didn’t miss their moment.

“Is Jade the only reason you want to go into town so much these days?” Ruin asked.

“Not the only reason, no. Your cooking is almost as bad as mine, which means the only way to get a decent meal is to pay someone else to make it.” Their future plans included having enough off-grid energy to support a food dispenser, but that wouldn’t happen for at least another year, especially now they were dividing their time between the cabin and their new duties as rangers. Between training sessions and the time they spent patrolling and mapping the areas around the colony, there just weren’t enough hours in the day. Not that he was complaining. Staying active made it easier to forget about the past, and sometimes he managed to push himself so close to exhaustion he actually slept for a few hours before the nightmares woke him.

Ruin nodded in grudging agreement. “Whatever that was we had for dinner last night made me nostalgic for the days of nutri-bars and algae paste.”

Wreckage winced. “You cooked it. Don’t you remember what it was before you turned it into a burnt offering?”

“Something I found in the back of the cooling unit. It was only slightly green and fuzzy, so I figured it was safe to eat.”

“You bastard. I don’t know whether to laugh or worry you poisoned me.” Even if Ruin was telling the truth, it wasn’t really anything he had to worry about. His medi-bots granted him accelerated healing and protection from illness… or food poisoning.

Ruin’s grin faded after a few seconds, and his expression turned thoughtful. “Do you think Jade would like to come out here? You know, for dinner?” He held up a hand. “We’d do takeout, of course. But the place is looking good these days. I’d like to show her around and see what she thinks.”

“Of what? Of the woods? The cabin? Or us?”

“All of it. This is our home. It could be hers, too. I mean, she doesn’t have a permanent job yet, and she hasn’t been assigned housing. We could offer her another choice.”

Wreckage didn’t know whether to laugh or smack his batch-brother upside the head. “Whoa. We haven’t even asked Jade out on a date yet and now you’re suggesting we ask her to move in with us?” He shook his head slowly as he imagined all the ways that could go wrong. “Do I need to contact Skye and some of the other cyborg women to explain to you what a terrible idea that is?”

Ruin cringed. “Fraxx, no. Do not involve the women. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“We would never hear the end of it, because they’d blame me for letting you even consider the idea. As clueless as I am about dating, I do know we’re going to need to make more of an effort than that. We’ll need to romance her and make her feel special.”

“She is special.” Ruin’s sun-bronzed features collapsed into another scowl.

“Yeah, she is.” Wreckage took a deep breath before locking eyes with Ruin. “So, what are you saying? Do you think it’s time we let her know?”

“Not yet.” Ruin chuckled ruefully. “As you just pointed out, we’re clueless about this dating stuff. I think it might be time to start making plans, though.”

Wreckage clapped his batch-brother on the shoulder. “I think you’re right. We can start tonight while we’re having dinner at the tavern.”

“I still don’t think it’s smart to go into town so much.” Ruin ran a hand over his close-cropped beard. “I could grow this out and you could, too. That worked before.”

“It worked because you and I were kept in isolation most of the time. I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life that way. If we do that, we’re not really free.”

“I know,” Ruin said and then followed it with a heavy sigh. “But when they figure it out…”

“Then we’ll deal with it.”

“My way is easier. Feed her dinner. Show her around. Offer to move her in and take care of her. She might say yes,” Ruin grumbled.

“And she might laugh in our faces,” Wreckage retorted. “That’s not a chance I’m willing to take. We’ve still got time. We’ll work on a plan and then dazzle her with romance and flowers and stuff. Maybe Striker has some suggestions. He managed to get Maggie to fall for him and he’s a sullen, silent bastard most of the time.”

Ruin grunted in agreement. “That he is. If he can figure out romance, so can we. Besides, we’re much better looking.”

“Truth. We’ll clean up the worksite and then shower and head into town. I need a brew and decent food. If we’re in luck, Jade will join us.”

Ruin nodded. “I’ll admit, she’s worth going into town for. That, and I’m tired of looking at your face.”

“And I’m tired of eating charred food that may or may not have been green and fuzzy,” Wreckage shot back.

Once he was alone again, he set to work cleaning up the site and storing the tools for tomorrow. He smiled and hummed to himself as he worked, already looking forward to tonight. They weren’t ready to make their move, but they were ready to make a plan. By the time Jade was ready, they would be, too.

***

Ready for more? Her Cyborg Rangers released January 17th. ORDER NOW

Release day for Marked For Menace!

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She survived impact… But her plans burned up on re-entry. 

Spending her inheritance on a luxury cruise is the most reckless thing Hope has ever done, and she’s loving every second of it… right up to the explosion.

Now she’s stuck on a strange planet filled with countless dangers and just one chance to survive. The problem? He’s huge, scarred, and the scariest thing on this planet. He’s also the sexiest male she’s ever seen. His protection comes at a price, though. Her.

The life she envisioned is gone forever, but she might be on the brink of finding something better… if she can let go of what she wants to embrace what she needs.

Order it NOW or check out Chapter One for FREE right now.

Sneak Peek at Marked For Menace

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Chapter One

Days like this were a struggle. Not because Menace hated being with his clanmates. They were his brothers, his only family. It had always been them versus the universe, and he’d happily lay down his life to save any of them.

His life would be easier if he did hate them, or at least was indifferent to them. If he didn’t care, he could leave this place and go live somewhere else. It was a big planet. He’d find somewhere quiet and far enough away he’d never be tempted to see his brothers again.

They were his family, but some dark, primal part of him didn’t care about that. Every time he spent too long with the others, his dark side would rouse and pace the confines of the mental cell he’d sealed it inside.

One day, it would break free. On that day, he feared what would happen. Not to him, but to the only family he had—the fa’rel.

The problem was that he didn’t hate them, which was why he was with two of his brothers, helping Mayhem extend the roof of his home. Weaving grass and slender branches into the existing roof wasn’t physically demanding work, but what it lacked in backbreaking labor it made up for with mind-numbing tedium.

Still, it needed to be done, and it went faster when they worked together. This week, he and Strife were helping Mayhem. Next week, the three of them would be at Strife’s home, and the week after that, they’d all be coming to help him prepare his place for the rainy season.

They’d struggled their first year on this planet. In the beginning, they had nothing but the supplies they’d salvaged from the wreckage of their crashed ship. They’d huddled inside the ruined shell as the rain fell day after day. Being in such close quarters had nearly driven him to the breaking point more than once, and he’d spent most of his time outside. Flash floods, carnivorous wildlife, and the constant rain had been better than being stuck inside with his brothers.

Mayhem worked on the roof from above while Menace worked from below. They’d fallen into a comfortable silence that made it easier for him to stay focused on the job and not the proximity of the others. The longer he could work uninterrupted, the longer he could stay.

So of course, his brother had to do something stupid. Mayhem growled and tugged so hard at the thatching he was working on that part of it pulled loose and showering Menace with bits of vegetation.

“If you fuck that up, you can fix it yourself.” He glared up at his clanmate while brushing plant bits and dust out of his beard. A long blade of orange grass hung from one of his horns and he swiped at it absently.

“You grumble more than Strife when it rains. It’s fine,” Mayhem replied unapologetically.

His dark side wanted to grab his brother by the horns and drag him through the hole in the roof. Instead, he flashed his fangs and made a joke. “No need to be insulting. I don’t grumble anywhere near as much as he does.”

A moment later they were caught in a shower of freshly cut branches. Strife had obviously heard them.

“Asshole,” he hollered loudly enough his brother couldn’t fail to hear. Then he sighed and looked around at the mess. “Now we need to stop and clean up before we can start the next section.”

“You’re grumbling again,” Mayhem said.

He swallowed an angry retort and rolled his shoulders to disguise some of his tension. “One more comment from you and I’m going home. You can finish this yourself.”

He didn’t want to leave until the work was done, but it wouldn’t be the first time. His brothers understood. They all had the same problem, though he’d always been affected more than the others. He hid it as best he could, but they gave him space when he needed it. The need to dominate was part of their design, but the verexi had—by intention or by accident—ramped his up to dangerous levels.

He rarely thought about the scrawnies—their name for the race responsible for creating him and his brothers. Thinking about their captors only made him seethe and wish for a chance at payback. Not that the verexi were stupid enough to come down to the planet where they’d imprisoned his clan. Losing control of their creations was an embarrassment for them. From time to time, the verexi would hire mercenaries to try and exterminate the fa’rel. Each time that happened, the mercenaries died and his clan would add a few more weapons and other tools to their limited supplies. Hunting down the mercs was the best way to keep his dark side satiated.

As if in answer to his thoughts, a sharp series of beeps erupted. He’d never been here the other times, but he knew what that alarm meant. The verexi’s hired killers were back.

It was time to go hunting again.

He followed Mayhem to the small shelter that protected some of their most important assets—a cobbled-together mess of components that allowed them an illicit link to the verexi’s satellite network. It warned them when anything entered the planet’s atmosphere.

“What is it?” he asked Mayhem once the other male had a chance to look at the monitor. Strife joined him at the door and they both waited for confirmation of what was happening.

“We’re about to have company.”

Good. That would take the edge off his anger and give him a few days of relative peace. Long enough to make sure everyone’s homes were ready for the coming rainy season.

Mayhem and Strife knew more about computers and constructs than he did, but he’d seen enough to understand. A cluster of small ships fell away from a much larger one that continued on its original heading. The bigger ship would fly over his territory and should land on the far side of a range of hills while the smaller ships were descending rapidly toward fa’rel territory. In fact, one of those vessels should land in the area he’d claimed for himself.

Even better. He’d be hunting on familiar ground.

They watched the screen, trying to estimate where the ships would land. The system lost track of them as they neared the surface, but Menace knew where to start looking. Each of them had a ship coming down in their claimed territory. It was an odd strategy, one none of them had seen before. None of them understood what the enemy was up to. Not that it mattered. They were the enemy and they would die.

“When will they stop trying?” Menace asked, slapping his fist into his open palm.

Mayhem turned away from the monitor. “Let them come. This is our home and we’ll defend it.”

“To the death,” Strife added.

“To the death,” Menace repeated, meaning every word.

The three of them butted heads, their horns clacking as they touched. They bid each other good hunting and set out.

Menace didn’t bother taking the stairs. He vaulted over the railing a split second faster than Strife, both of them bounding from limb to limb, letting gravity do most of the work.

His claws carved new gouges in thick branches as he descended, slowing him enough to let him land on his feet. He was already sprinting toward his territory when the distinct sizzle of a signal gun discharging sounded followed by an ear-piercing screech intended to catch the attention of anyone who’d missed the light show.

He didn’t bother slowing to look. He knew what had happened. Mayhem had sent up a bright green flare, letting the others know a hunt was underway. Since only three ships were nearby, the hunt would be short and simple, each of them dealing with the invaders in their territory. The rest of the clan would prepare their defenses and wait. They didn’t have communication equipment. When a flare went up, everyone returned home and got ready. If another clanmate arrived with news, they’d react. Otherwise, they would stay near home and prepare.

Menace raced through the forest, using the shortcuts he’d long since memorized to reach his territory as fast as possible. Their territory was set out in a rough circle, and each of them claimed a triangular section with the crash site at the center. Most of the others had built their homes a short run from the middle.

He hadn’t. His house was near the distant boundary of the land he’d claimed for himself, and as it happened, it was the opposite edge from where he’d estimated the ship would land. Going home to gear up would waste valuable time, so he chose a different route—one that would take him to the right area and straight to a cache of supplies he’d placed for this kind of scenario. He didn’t know if any of the others had done the same thing, but he assumed at least some of them had.

They’d spent too many years stashing food and hiding what few items they’d managed to create or steal from the scrawnies to stop now. They’d want to be prepared for anything. Just like him.

The cache was stored in a cave partway up a hill. It wasn’t large, but it was high enough to stay dry even in the rainy season, and he’d fashioned a door heavy enough to keep out any of the local fauna. He stayed there sometimes when he didn’t feel like facing the summer storms that drenched the forest and sent lightning dancing through the clouds overhead.

He only took a few minutes to gear up, tying greaves to his lower legs and securing wide bands of leather to his wrists. He fastened a short kilt of boiled leather straps around his waist and adjusted the fit so it didn’t rub the fur over his hips. He hated wearing the thing, but it offered too much protection to forgo it. Not that it would do much against blaster fire, but the mercenaries weren’t the only dangerous predators on this planet. Teeth and claws were a much more common threat, and he’d likely run more of them than the mercs.

He grinned at that thought. More than once, the local wildlife had reduced the enemy’s ranks before the fa’rel joined the hunt. Menace was fine with that. He was happy to share the kill with anyone or anything, so long as they didn’t get in his way.

He armed himself with a variety of weapons and then jogged further up the hill to a rocky outcrop that offered a good view of the valley they called home. The boundary of his land was marked by a slow-moving river they called the bend.

Bysshe had tried to argue for something more poetic, but the android’s suggestions were all shot down by the fa’rel. It was a river. It had many bends in it. The name was simple and obvious. Bysshe had muttered about their lack of imagination, which seemed odd coming from the only artificial lifeform in their clan. Bysshe was an honorary member of the fa’rel despite the fact he’d been created by humans. He never spoke about how he’d ended up under the control of the scrawnies, and none of them had pressed him about it. The past didn’t matter. Their future was uncertain. All that mattered was the moment and the memories of those they’d lost along the way.

As he scanned the river with one of the few sets of functional binoculars they possessed, he couldn’t help but think about one of his clanmates. Rage had been the oldest of them, and he’d done what he could to protect them from the worst of the scrawnies’ cruelty. He would have loved this planet with its open sky and stretches of forest so vast you could lose yourself for days. Rage had died in an escape attempt not long before the verexi finally gave up on their experiment and pretended to arrange for the surviving fa’rel to live the rest of their lives on an uninhabited planet. They’d even sent down supplies, though the containers were mostly full of useless gear like bathtubs instead of what was promised.

None of them had any idea why their captors had provided them with anything at all. It didn’t make sense. The verexi had promised them a new life, but their plan had always been to kill them. Bysshe had figured that out and warned them once they were on the ship that brought them here. The crash landing was the best they could manage once they had taken the ship’s AI offline.

Rage had missed his chance at freedom. He’d died trying to find a way for them all to escape. It wasn’t fair. Menace smacked his fist into his flat palm. Nothing in their lives had ever been fair, but losing Rage stung the most. One day they would take the fight to the scrawnies. Then, he’d dedicate every kill to the brothers he’d lost, starting with Rage.

When he spotted debris along the edge of the river, his thoughts of revenge shifted from the future to this moment. The enemy appeared to have crashed their ship into the water. A tiny ship. Hmm.

He increased the magnification until he could make it out clearly. Not a ship. An escape pod. At least that’s what he assumed based on the fact it had inflated some sort of flotation device to keep it from sinking. He’d initially expected a scout ship, but that wasn’t the case. This pod was a one-way delivery system, not really a ship at all.

His grin widened until his fangs showed. If the three small ships were all pods, the larger ship must have had serious issues big enough to make it crash. If they could get to the wreck before the mercs could destroy it, there would be plenty of supplies and weapons to scavenge.

Today was a good day after all.

He put away the binoculars, checked his weapons were secure, and set off toward the river. It was time to go hunting.

***

Ready for more? Marked For Menace releases September 27th. ORDER NOW

It’s release day for Her Alien Spymaster

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She went into cryo-sleep a prisoner and woke up free…

 Skye thought freedom meant she could make her own choices. What to eat, where to live, and who she’d love. She’s learning that life doesn’t work that way, and fate has a mind of its own.

The cynical veteran spymaster wasn’t the male she’d have chosen, but he’s the one she’s destined for… Except he doesn’t believe she is his mate. In fact, he’s certain he can’t have one at all.

A spymaster lives for duty – no possessions, no attachments – and absolutely no mate.

 Yardan has lived by those rules since the day he took his oath. His duty is to advise and protect Prince Tyran and Haven colony, and lately he’s failed them both. He needs to redeem his honor and uncover the mole in their midst, but first he has to deal with a beautiful cyborg who insists they are destined for each other.

Skye is smart, desirable, and a distraction to his investigation. Could she also be the spy he’s hunting for? Or is she something more dangerous? Like the mate he is forbidden to have…

Enjoy your sneak peek and read Chapter one now, or Buy it today.

Sneak Peek at Her Alien Spymaster

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Chapter One

Skye ran as fast as she could manage, which wasn’t nearly as fast as she would have liked. The ice and snow on the ground made it impossible to reach anything close to her top speed, but the added difficulty almost made up for it. She’d come out here to burn off some energy and try to find some semblance of calm, but despite the solitude and silence of the wintery woods, she couldn’t find even a moment’s peace. All she could think about was the threat to Haven colony… her home.

The worst part wasn’t the fact there was a threat. She was a fraxxing cyborg after all. She was designed from the DNA up for combat, but she had no idea how to fight against an enemy she couldn’t even see. Something was sickening every Vardarian in Haven, and none of them knew if it would spread to the other species that called the colony home.

 Nothing about the illness made any sense. The Vardarians were born with cutting edge nanotech that gave them a number of advantages, including accelerated healing and the ability to cleanse their systems of any toxins or viruses. The cyborgs all carried a different kind of nanotech, which they called medi-bots, that provided the same benefits. So why were the Vardarians the only ones getting sick? And why hadn’t any of the humans been infected? Most of them hadn’t been given the medi-bot treatment yet. They should have been the first to fall ill.

Skye snarled in frustration and increased her pace. Two strides later, her foot hit an icy patch. She skidded, cursed, and caught hold of a tree to prevent herself from falling ass over afterburner.

“Don’t get cocky,” she muttered her herself. “Or in this case, don’t get emotional. Emotions get you just as dead as cockiness.” Then she winced. She’d just butchered one of the cyborgs’ favorite mottos. Good thing none of them were around to hear what she’d said, or she would never hear the end of it. That was the problem with having cyborgs as friends and family… they never forgot a damned thing and were more than happy to bring up choice tidbits at the most annoying moments.

It’s a good thing she loved the rowdy group of survivors who had made it off Reamus Station. If she didn’t, she’d have dropped-kicked most of them out an airlock by now.

Once her mind and body both were balanced again, she set off at a slower pace. She enjoyed the stark beauty of the woods when it was blanketed by fluffy frozen water, but the way sound behaved in this environment intrigued her and held her attention.

The crunch and squeak of snow beneath her boots was sharp and immediate. Every exhalation seemed louder than normal, punctuated by the puffs of vapor that accompanied each breath. Other sounds were muffled by the blanket of snow. The wind blowing through the trees and the creak of branches were harder to detect despite her enhanced senses.

She let her mind wander, chasing after stray thoughts until she finally outran her worries, at least for a little while. She’d needed this.

After another few kilometers, she circled back, breaking a new trail instead of following her previous tracks. Her new route would eventually take her to the bridge that linked the two sides of the colony, but it also took her through one of her favorite spots, a wide meadow with a stream running through it. It had been covered in soft green and blue grass with wildflowers the first time she’d seen it. Now, it looked very different. The wind had blown the snow into drifts that looked like frozen waves, piling it up against the trunks of trees along the far side of the field. She saw tracks here and there, most of them from small animals, but something larger had been through here since the last snowfall.

She jogged over and looked at the prints, trying to discern what might have made them. Striker would know, but she didn’t want to disturb the big, somewhat grumpy cyborg. They were friends now, but she’d been wary of him at one time. She understood him better now, but that didn’t mean she was ready to call him on their internal channels and have a chat about the tracks left by the local wildlife.

Besides, the antisocial cyborg usually had his channels switched off. “What Maggie sees in him I will never understand. When I’m ready to settle down, I’ll find someone cheerful, all charm and sass. Yeah.” She glanced up at the sky. “That comment was not a request for said male to arrive just yet. I’m still enjoying my freedom, thank you very much.”

It was a habit she’d picked up from the human colonists. Most of them believed in one higher being or another, and all of them seemed to look up when they were communicating with them.

She stayed in the field long enough to enjoy the tranquility and capture a few images of the tracks with her onboard optics. Given their size, it had to be either a ghost cat or a kopaki. Both were large predators that had developed a taste for the colony’s assorted species of livestock. She’d have to let the rangers know what she’d seen. They’d take care of it once the more immediate crisis was over.

That thought shattered her moment of peace. “I’d take a pack of ghost cats over this damned bug. At least then I’d have something to hit.”

She was halfway back when River pinged her over their shared channel. “Skye, I’ve got an update.”

“I’m listening.”

“I heard from Maggie. Since the council can’t get anything done, we’re going a different way. I’m rounding up everyone here and taking them to the Bar None. Meet you there?”

It was the best news she’d heard in days. “I’m already running. Let’s see who gets there first.”

Skye turned and took off at the fastest speed she could manage. She had no chance of beating River and the others to the bar, but she wouldn’t be far behind them. They were going to do something, and that was all she needed to know.

*

At this time of day, the bridge was usually humming with activity. Haven’s citizens should be socializing and shopping at the various vendors and market stalls that lined the street, linking the two sides of the colony. Today, though, it was silent and empty. All the shops and stalls were shuttered, and the only sound she heard was the rush of water beneath her feet and the occasional crash as chunks of ice slammed into each other.

She was well onto the bridge before she heard voices. It was no surprise they came from the Bar None. The meeting must be underway already. Good.

She spotted River’s vehicle parked nearby. A quick scan showed the engine hadn’t started cooling yet. She wasn’t far behind them. She knocked the snow from her boots and opened the door. A rush of warm, richly scented air wafted by as she stepped into one of the most comfortable places she knew.

The building wasn’t even a year old yet, but somehow this place already felt older and more broken in. Entering the bar was like slipping into her favorite pair of boots. She’d barely crossed the threshold when everyone else erupted into excited cheers.

Hope bloomed, and she raised her voice to be heard above the others. “Does this mean we have a plan?”

The only male present rose from his seat. She recognized him immediately and wondered what the fraxx he was doing here. The prince’s spymaster was dour and distrustful, especially when it came to the non-Vardarian citizens of Haven.

She expected him to say something to dampen the mood or point out something they’d all overlooked. Instead, his golden skin lost most of its luster and he crashed to the floor.

Shit.

Phaedra was at his side in a second, concern shadowing her normally sunny expression. “You stubborn fraxxing, idiot. You didn’t tell me you were sick, too.”

Well, that explained what the spymaster was doing here. He didn’t have much love for humans, but Phaedra was the prince’s mate. She was also stubborn, impulsive, and resistant to authority. Since her bodyguards weren’t present, Yardan had come himself. Phaedra must have loved that.

Yardan waved everyone off. “I’m not sick. I just got up too fast.”

Skye scanned him. He had an elevated temperature, a rapid pulse, and several other indicators of illness.

Stubborn fraxxing idiot indeed, she thought and walked over to help him up. She hadn’t intended to do that, but she was halfway there before she even realized she was moving.

He glared at her for a few seconds, just long enough for her to wonder if he’d refuse her assistance, but then he took her hand in his and tried to pull himself up.

Skye saw him struggling and simply lifted him off the floor, using her enhanced strength to get him on his feet. That’s when it hit her… a subtle rush of warmth and desire. Oh fraxx, no. Him? Now? This couldn’t be the sharhal. Surely she’d been close enough to him before today… Her mind raced as she accessed her memory, cross-referencing every time she’d encountered the spymaster or his anrik. Wait. Did he even have one? She checked his wrist for the scar that every other Vardarian male wore with pride. His skin was smooth. No scar. No anrik. No blood-brother to journey through life with. That meant if this was what she thought it was, she wouldn’t be the filling in a sexy male sandwich. Pity.

By the time she’d worked through that, though, her memory crosscheck confirmed that the two of them had never been inside the few times they’d attended at the same functions, and they’d never been introduced.

Typical. Her mahoyen had been here all along, and she’d never crossed paths with him until today. She managed a sidelong look at him as he leaned against her. His hair and beard were both dark and closely trimmed, framing a handsome face with a strong jaw and green eyes that glittered with intelligence edged in ice.

Grumpy but good looking—she could work with that.

She draped one of his well-muscled arms over her shoulders and caught him around his waist with the other. “I got you,” she told him as she drew his hard body in close to her side.

He shot her a disgruntled look. “Apparently. Damned females shouldn’t be that strong. And I’m fine.”

Phaedra chimed in before Skye could. “He’s not close to fine. Can you help me get him home?”

A moment ago all she wanted was to take on the threat to Haven and find a way to help her adopted home. Strange how quickly things could change. She glanced at Yardan and then nodded. If she was right and they were destined to be mates, she would go with him. Besides, Phaedra would need help running things while both of her mates were down with whatever the fraxx this plague was. “You can fill me in on what’s happening on the way.”

“Suki, grab our coats. Will you?” Phaedra asked one of the human colonists. Then she picked up Yardan’s heavy cloak from the back of his chair and managed to toss it over his shoulders. Phae was too short to place it carefully, so Skye took a moment to adjust it before helping the spymaster outside.

Skye kept expecting him to say something about the sharhal. The Vardarian should be feeling the effects even more than she was. So why hadn’t he said anything? She’d been prepared for the possibility that she’d end up mated to a Vardarian. From what she’d seen, it wasn’t so bad. Hell, it was probably better this way. Dating wasn’t something the survivors of Reamus Station knew much about. She’d enjoyed a few no-strings-attached encounters here in Haven, but that wasn’t the same.

She glanced over at Yardan again. All his attention was on Phaedra, walking a few steps ahead of them. Just her fraxxing luck. She finally met her destined mate, and he was too sick to notice her.

Once he was healthy, things would be different. They had to be. Otherwise, she was in trouble. Once triggered, the Vardarian mating fever couldn’t be stopped. Either she’d wind up mated or she’d lose herself to madness and death.

She knew which option she’d prefer. The rest was up to Yardan.

***

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