Obsidian's Flame

Coming this October to Amber Heat (and isn't it a beautiful new cover?!?):

In the twenty-first century, genetic manipulations have turned entire generations of enhanced humans into outcasts from Earth. They go to whatever worlds they can find. Samantha Burton, a fire-starter, lands on planet New Chance and ends up in Nowhere, an isolated mining community, supporting herself as best she can on the streets. Trying to retrieve evidence (read here "steal") to prove that the mining process is deadly, she runs up against law enforcement officer Obsidian, another Enhanced human. His ability to form impenetrable body armor makes him nearly invincible. Can she trust him to help her? Or will he be llike the rest of the enforcers in the community--on the take and looking out for number one?

~ * ~

Obsidian shifted in his chair, making her realize she’d been staring at him while her thoughts churned. Sam was startled to see him staring right back at her, one dark eyebrow lifted as if to ask if she was done yet. She looked down and pushed the last piece of her bread around in the white sauce on her plate. But knowing he still watched her made her too nervous to finish eating.

She motioned to her server, who brought over her bill. Handing him some credit chips, she pushed back her chair and walked with quick strides toward the door. Once she was outside, she started down the street. Before she’d taken a dozen steps, a big hand grabbed her arm and pulled her into an alley. She found herself thrust against the wall, a brawny forearm across her collarbones, big fingers curling over her shoulder.

Sam gasped and looked up into the dark brown eyes of Obsidian.

“You wanna tell me why you’ve been shadowin’ me, little girl?” His gruff voice with its Cajun drawl rasped over her eardrums and set up tiny eruptions along her nerve endings. He was a handsome devil, with his sinful eyes and sexy, made-for-kissing mouth. But he was way out of her league.

“I’m not shadowing you,” she muttered, wiggling against his hold. At five-nine she could hardly be called little, but compared to his bulk and the fact he had nearly a foot of height on her, she supposed he might see her that way. Not that she appreciated it.

“Hmm. You’ve been here a lot lately.” He tightened his fingers on her shoulder and she stilled, looking up at his hard face. Suspicion glittered in his eyes. “You want me to believe you just had a hankerin’ for good French cuisine?”

“It’s an affordable place, on some of the items.” In her experience, when all else failed, you tried to brazen your way out. “But, wow. I’m impressed you can pronounce a word like cuisine, let alone that you know what it means.” She raised her eyebrows, trying to appear astonished.

His eyes narrowed and she bit her lip against a grin. Score one for Sam.

“Maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye, hmm?” he asked, leaning over her, bringing his face within inches of hers. His breath smelled of spice and wine, and she caught an underlying scent of musky cologne on his skin. That smell and the heat from his big body made her weak in the knees. “You seem well-educated for a smartass street rat.” His lips tilted in a sardonic half-smile.

Her urge to grin faded. All right, score one for the muscle-bound security guy.

If she could get out from under his arm, she could blast him with fire, forcing him to activate his enhancement—skin that transformed into body armor, impenetrable and black as night. Hence, his nickname. Obsidian. But when he was in full Obsidian mode, he was bulky, slow. She could easily outrun him. And she would, first chance she got. Just as soon as she took another whiff of him.

“Trey!” A man from the street leaned around the corner of the building. Sam turned her head the same time Obsidian did to see a short, broad figure in the light of the streetlamp. “What’re you doing, ami?” The same Cajun accent as Obsidian’s colored the man’s voice. “You don’t need no whore. Come on, your food’s gettin’ cold.”

Sam stiffened. Since she’d left Earth, she’d done a lot of things she wasn’t very proud of in order to survive, but she hadn’t resorted to selling her body. Not yet. Not ever, she hoped.

“Settle down, little girl,” the big guy murmured. To his friend, he called, “I’ll be right back, André.” He waited until the other man walked out of sight, then his face turned back toward hers and, almost as if in slow motion, he leaned over her so closely their noses nearly touched. His free hand came up and cool fingers skimmed her cheek, curled around her jaw. “I think there is more to you than meets the eye, cher,” he murmured. With an intense gaze, he searched her face, scrutinizing her features.

“You do?” What an inane response, she thought, but his touch distracted her, tightened her insides, made her want to touch him back and run away all at the same time.

“Mmm.” His thumb rubbed lightly over the corner of her mouth, then slipped along her lower lip. When her mouth opened, he covered it with his own. He nibbled at her lips, lightly sucking, drinking down her sigh. His caress was light, as if he touched something fragile.

Sam had never been touched with such care before, wouldn’t have expected it from a tough guy like Obsidian. She wondered if he would touch the rest of her body the same way. Even as her toes curled at the thought, she pushed at his shoulders. What the hell was wrong with her? He was über-elite on this world; she was nothing. He and his kind were superheroes here.

Well, as close to superheroes as a bass-ackward planet like New Chance was likely to get.

Copyright ©2006 Sherrill Quinn. All Rights Reserved.

"It's hard to be funny when you have to be clean." ~Mae West