ToThe Victor Go The Spoils

To The Victor Go The Spoils - Coming November 30th to Ellora's Cave:


Devon Maertissa is on the run. Her abbreviated time as a resistance fighter resulted in a botched hijacking of an arms shipment in which the arms dealer died. Unjustly accused of being the direct cause of his death, she takes a chance to attend her sister's wedding, even knowing bounty hunters are after her. The one man she's most concerned about is a cyborg named Bane Carradoc.

Bane's determined to do his job and bring in another fugitive. He's not prepared for Devon. The longer he's with her, the more he begins to believe she may not be guilty of the charges. When another bounty hunter shows up, Bane has to save her and then make a decision.

Does he complete the mission as he always has? Or does he let his conscience be his guide? And...what then?

~ * ~

Breathing a sigh of relief, Devon turned the corner and picked up her pace. She couldn't get caught. Not by Bane, not by any bounty hunter. She'd heard the stories of what happened to prisoners at the hands of the Elysian Federation.

As much as she despised the local resistance leader, she wouldn't betray him. The colonists on the outer fringe deserved protection and Wilder and his band of merry men was it.

Her skin prickled with awareness. As she started to turn to look behind her, a big hand grabbed her upper arm. The hard clasp drew her up onto her toes for a moment.

"Just keep going." The voice was deep, well-suited to the tall, broad-shouldered man walking by her side. His gaze met hers and she sucked in a breath.

Bane.

Draped from head to toe in unforgiving black, he looked stiff and unyielding.

Without thinking, she twisted around and rammed her foot as hard as she could into the juncture of his thick thighs.

He bent with a groan, letting go of her to cup his abused genitals.

Devon didn't wait around. She sprinted down the corridor, her heavy shoes clumping on the metal floor.

A deep roar echoed after her, then the pounding of heavy boots.

Gasping for breath, she ran into the passenger transport area. She pushed her way through the crowd, her lungs heaving so hard it hurt. Her body cold with fear, she kept moving. She had to get away. Had to! She couldn't be taken prisoner.

Voices behind her cried out and she turned to see Bane striding after her, dark fury on his face. Without regard, he pushed his way through the crowd. Those who had time jumped out of his way to keep from being knocked roughly aside.

Gogogo! She spun on her heel and ran toward the far end of the platform. She heard the grunts of people behind her and knew Bane was close. As she went into a crouch to jump down into the open area where the shuttles docked, thinking to duck into one of the maintenance hatches, his hand closed over the collar of her jacket and yanked her back.

"Don't think so, li'l chickie." He wrapped a brawny arm around her neck, locking her against him. The heat from his large body seeped into her, warming her fear-chilled skin.

He crowded her up against the wall and turned her to face him, bracketing her with forearms braced beside her. Using his greater height to try to intimidate her, he leaned over so close she went cross-eyed looking at the pores on his nose.

Devon cast her gaze about, desperate to make eye contact with someone who might be willing to help her. But people kept their eyes averted, careful not to draw the big man's attention. She finally looked back at his face.

Deep, dark eyes stared down at her from beneath thick, black eyebrows. As she gazed up into his face, the pupil of his right eye dilated. She realized the cybernetic implant he had was scanning her. For what, she didn't know.

At any other time, this was a man she could very well be attracted to. His face was too rugged to be classified as handsome, but it suited her aesthetic sensibilities. It was a face that was purely masculine with its narrow blade of a nose and sensual lips, lips that were now held in a tight, grim line.

A muscle by his eye twitched, making the jagged scar dance. "You're a slippery one," he rumbled. "And don't think you're not gonna pay for that kick in the balls back there."

"Give me a break," she muttered, forcing bravado she didn't feel. Her pulse thudded in her throat, and she fought the urge to reach up and hide the throbbing vein with her finger. Even though she was scared--she didn't want to be taken in to face charges of treason that carried a death sentence--her body betrayed her by responding to his nearness. Her nipples tingled, the areolas puckered as if she were cold and a hot slick of cream slid from her core. She forced her burgeoning arousal back. "Like you wouldn't have done the same thing."

"Yeah, but then it wouldn't have been me on the receiving end of that fucking thick shoe." He drew away enough to look down at her feet. One brow quirked. "Nice touch, by the way." His nostrils flared as if he was smelling her and that brow went higher, though he didn't say anything.

Devon kept quiet as well. Her gaze strayed behind him to the crowd of people still studiously avoiding them. No help there.

"Might as well give it up, chickie." He brought one hand to her face and stroked long fingers slowly down her cheek. "I've gotcha, fair and square."

Copyright 2007 Sherrill Quinn. All Rights Reserved.


To The Victor Go The Spoils - coming Friday November 23, 2007 to Ellora's Cave!