Beast slithering beneath my skin is not a good sign. No human should affect me this way. I know who she is and that's not who I expected. My control among Shadow Warriors is legendary. With the smell and taste of her father in her blood I shouldn't react this savagely. Church was a good man who I owe a great debt and there's no reason his bloodline should spike my anger. If anything, it should calm me simply because she's female. I grind my teeth and force Beast to recede. It matters not that she's Church's daughter. Our kind judges a person on their own merit. If the U.S. government thought to sway us by sending her, they're wrong. Maybe it's the Federation's never-ending manipulations that have Beast on edge. The woman follows at least ten feet behind me. It does not speak well for her backbone. I glance at the soldiers waiting by the vehicle. Even though they remain stoic, I know they're disturbed about my interaction with the woman. All accept Beck. He displays his displeasu
The temperature inside the vehicle rose ten degrees in the seconds before King jumped out. I've heard that when angered, a Shadow Warrior's body temperature elevates. I think my father mentioned it once. Feeling the heat sweep through the car is different from hearing about it. King's reaction when learning I'm the new secretary of defense is entirely unexpected. Laughter would have been more understandable. I fear the U.S. government withheld the key pieces needed to solve this riddle. Bottom line... I'm expendable and I knew it before I took the oath of office. One brave moment in my life is turning into the nightmare I feared it would be. The driver stomps his foot on the gas and takes off, leaving King behind. Neither man in the front seat acts like I'm in the car. I'm left alone to ponder the situation with nothing but questions. I give it a shot by asking something simple. "How long until we reach our destination?" They ignore me and I sink back against the u
Beast eventually settles. Nokita stays far enough away to avoid a fight but close enough to do his job, which is protect me. When I'm calmer, I wave him over. "Shift and run with me," I rumble from enlarged jaws and elongated teeth. "Adjust my gear belts first." Our military fatigue pants consist of tough stretch material that expands with our form. The waist belt and crisscrossing leather chest straps do not stretch, though. They have only enough give so they don't snap when we morph. When we're in this form, our claws are incapable of fine motor skills. Now that I'm calmer, I notice the discomfort of my gear. I want the ability to breathe comfortably while I run off more energy. I stand still as Nokita adjusts the straps and then fine-tunes his own. Our beast form resembles no real or mythical animal. We could never pass as anything but your worst nightmare. Our entire body undergoes changes when we transform. Bones crack and reshape and our jaw elongates while o
I cut the engine on the motorcycle and roll to a stop in front of the citadel. It's a facade. My main residence is much cozier and fits my farm boy roots more. If the woman leaves here, we want her superiors learning as little as possible about us. Two guards open the doors and I enter. The sun is an hour from setting, so it's the warmest part of the day indoors. We prefer heat over cold due to the K-5 that is always just beneath the surface. I glance over my shoulder. "Boot and the woman?" I ask. "Boot is in your office," Knet's angry tone follows me. Knet isn't happy with his current duty. It's his punishment for repeated transgressions against my authority. Nothing major or he would be recovering from a sound beating. I head toward my temporary office. The door is slightly ajar and I push it open and enter the ten by ten mostly bare room. Boot is at my desk with his son, Che. My ire rises and they both look up. "Hi, Che," I say as I ruffle his hair
I'm alive, I tell myself. Pissed off but alive. My head hurts, I have muscle cramps in my legs and arms, I'm starving, and I'm exhausted. Oh, and I look like hell. My hair, which is a tangled mess around my head, makes it appear as if I've grown Medusa's snakes. The whites of my eyes are more red than white and my face is tanning-bed orange. I turn on the shower and tear off my crappy clothes, tossing them on the floor. A good stomp on top of them does nothing to alleviate my anger or headache. My head pounds with each solid stomp and I feel no better for the small display of temper. Nothing about today went as planned. I step under the cool water while rubbing my arm where the IV went in. At least I don't remember the needle. Those I hate. I do a rundown in my head of other things I hate and King is on the list every other item. I hate roaches and King. I hate military rations and King. I hate my period and King. A whoosh of cold
Watching her eat with uninhibited pleasure excited me. She has no idea her government is full of crap about their food supplies. I saw what the leaders ate and it wasn't the garbage they fed us. They might package and save some of their crops, but the best selection goes to the entitled few. This was another reason I respected Marinah's father. He ate with his troops no matter how revolting the food was. The man also didn't have to lead his men on the battlefield. He could have sat in an office, taken reports, and given orders to be carried out by someone else. But he cared about his men, and the manner of his death showed his feelings went far beyond human compassion. But now I'm wondering who exactly Marinah is and how dedicated she is to the Federation. There's no simple answer. I'm American. I grew up on a farm, was raised by my father, and had no idea what I was until my tenth birthday when he sat me down and explained the truth. I listened, thinking it was a joke ev
The room would be nothing special under most circumstances. I've slept on a cot in a room with three other women for years, so this one is most definitely an upgrade. The bathroom is only half the size of the one I just left and it's amazing. The running hot water makes it more so. King spent a lot of time telling me he'd kill me. I saw the look in his eyes and completely understand that he would enjoy doing it. Maybe I've just been under too much stress since coming on this assignment, because I'm no longer afraid. After a night's rest I'm betting my nervous nature will return. There's also a sense here that the bad monsters can't get me. Back at my Federation quarters we lived in daily fear. Either the monsters would invade and kill us, or we would lose our job and be sent to the front lines to die. The feeling of dread was never far away. Here it's different. King and his men offer protection even if they don't want to. I lay back on the bed enjoying that my legs can s
King sits back with his cup of coffee and watches me devour breakfast. I don't even care. I do, however, notice that the hard lines on his forehead smooth out as he relaxes. I would say it makes him look softer but nothing about him is soft. This morning he's in black military pants and a black T-shirt that molds to his chest. His bicep bulges as he lifts his coffee cup to his mouth. A question goes off in my mind that won't leave me. No straps this morning but that doesn't mean his chest is any less defined. He said he will kill me and I believe every word yet I'm unafraid, which is so unlike me. I guess it could be the food. For some reason the thought of my pending death isn't worrying me. Maybe I've faced my fears and come out the other side a tad bit stronger. Who knows? It's just nice to not have the worry hanging over me. I eat until I'm stuffed and can't possibly get another bite in my stomach. If I were back home, I'd feel guilty about the food I just scarfed but guilt