Armored Hearts Read online

  She was helpless.

  Rand began patting her down, his big hands sliding over her body, looking for weapons. He didn’t grope, yet there was something acutely arousing about the brush of his palms over the curve of her breasts, down her torso, then passing between her legs before sliding along the length of each thigh and calf. He took his time about it, his hands thorough, searching her for any sign of blades, beamers, or projectile weapons. If she’d had any, he’d have found them.

  But she had nothing. Nothing except an acute awareness of the enemy captain behind her, wide as a wall, all muscular male power and ruthless vampire hunger.

  The key word there is enemy, Zara told herself. Doesn’t matter how sexy he is, he’s G.A.E. Working for a fucking con man who invaded the planet trying to force us all to worship him. She shouldn’t find anything at all sexy about Captain Nick Rand. Even if he was the embodiment of every forbidden fantasy she’d ever had.

  “Let’s go, lieutenant,” the vampire said. He gestured toward the tent opening with the muzzle of his rifle. She could feel his gaze on her nape, burning male need focused like a laser sight. Squaring her shoulders, she drew herself to her full height and stalked out of the shelter and into the blazing afternoon sunlight.

  * * *

  The troop’s transports set down in the camp’s central landing pad one by one, sleek aerodynamic bullets masked by camo fields, floating downward on their repellers like fall leaves drifting to earth. The vampire directed Zara to the line of soldiers waiting to board one of them. A big hand cupped her elbow, ready to lend support or restraint as needed.

  Or it may have been more gesture of possession, warning off the G.A.E. grunts who eyed her with a molten blend of lust and contempt. “Bloodwhore,” somebody muttered behind her.

  “Vamp sure made her yell, didn’t he?” another answered.

  Humiliation detonated in her skull, heating her cheeks like a torch. Zara knew she must be blushing redder than the trim on the vampire’s armor.

  Rand turned his head to look back at them. “You got something to say?” His tone could have frozen liquid nitrogen solid.

  There was no answer.

  “I didn’t think so.” He faced front again, standing behind her like a blast wall.

  The men were justifiably cowed. No matter how strong a mech might be, vampires were faster. By the time a mech reached for a vamp, he’d have driven a combat blade into the base of the mech’s skull.

  No wonder Rand had his own troops thoroughly intimidated, for which Zara was damned grateful as they seated themselves among men who now busily ignored her.

  Bloodwhore. The word dug its claws into her shrinking soul despite her best efforts to fight it off. She must have squalled like a cat in heat when Rand sank his fangs into her.

  An enemy vamp, for God’s sake. Was she utterly without pride?

  Zara grimaced, imagining Andre’s hurt at her lust for the enemy. He’d haunt her for the rest of her life. Not that he’s not haunting me now…

  She’d never felt the desire for her partner that she felt for this enemy vamp. She’d wanted to, God knew, but her partner just hadn’t… affected her that way.

  Thing was, she’d fantasized about vampdoms and bloodsubs since she’d gotten her hands on a forbidden sex vid at the age of sixteen. The vampire hero had been so very male, so dominant and irresistible. Zara had masturbated to the scene of the heroine surrendering her throat to him so many times, she’d had every word of dialogue memorized. Every gesture and growl and helpless sigh.

  So when the G.A.E. invaded and a desperate Falaran Coalition had launched the Vampire Defense Program, Zara volunteered to become a Vampire Support Specialist. The vampire virus had transformed her body, making her bones denser, her muscles more powerful, her cells more responsive to healing.

  “Reality never lives up to dreams, Zara,” her mother had warned, but she hadn’t listened.

  Her mom had been right. Reality had turned out to be a lot less erotic than her kinky little fantasies. Andre Miron had been a decent, big-hearted guy with a wide grin and unflinching courage that led him to leap to the defense of anyone who needed it. And yet he’d never lit up her body the way this enemy vampire had.

  God, she’d wanted to give him the love he deserved, but she’d never been able to do it. Never.

  And then it had been too late.

  Some nights she dreamed of the instant the pulse shot burned a molten, blazing hole in Andre’s face as he shoved her out of the way. Those were the nights she woke with tears on her face and a molten, blazing hole in her heart.

  Why hadn’t she been able to love him?

  That a G.A.E. vampire made her cream when Andre hadn’t felt like emotional treason. She couldn’t let it happen again. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

  No matter what Rand might do to her.

  Chapter Three

  Rand knew some people who needed killing. The fact that they were supposedly on his side meant exactly nothing.

  He sat next to his captive, getting more and more pissed off as Zara’s luscious female scent took on acrid notes of pain and humiliation.

  Meanwhile, the men who’d attacked her surrounded them in the transport’s seats, trading indignant glances and shooting glares at Rand for spoiling their war crime fun.

  Then there was that little prick, Lieutenant Godshammer, who was fucking well going on report whether his father-in-law liked it or not. And what kind of army would assemble a chain of command like that? Even if Colonel Lordsvengeance hadn’t been engaging in blatant nepotism, the grunts would believe he was.

  And they had good reason to think so. Godshammer had been reaping the rewards of his father-in-law’s favor for months, including first pick of the spoils from the Falaran camp.

  That thought added to Rand’s irritation. While he and his team had been searching the base for snipers, the rest of the men had fucking looted it. They’d used their sensors to find the most valuable gear, ammo and supplies, along with whatever loose screens and creds that might have been left behind, and taken it all.

  Rand might be a mercenary who fought for creds instead of loyalty, but he’d never stolen the loser’s shit, either. He wasn’t a fucking thief.

  Now Godshammer and the rest of the thieves sat on the transport counting their creds and playing with their looted toys -- other people’s screens and trid cubes -- heads together over forbidden games, goggling at Falaran porn. Saying self-righteous crap about the Falarans’ moral decay while nursing hard ons under their armor. Rand could smell their arousal.

  Good thing Zara couldn’t. She looked spooked enough as it was, her eyes fixed on the transport window she sat beside. Something bright flared just beyond the glass, and he followed her gaze.

  The transport banked over the ground, and Rand saw a wing of G.A.E. fighters blowing hell out of the Falaran base. Just past Zara’s shoulder, a God’s Judgment 5000 swept over the camp, strafing it up with quantum missiles that sent fireballs leaping into the blue sky.

  Watching Zara watch the camp burn, Rand winced.

  * * *

  The G.A.E. base called Heavensgate spread below the transport: clusters of hemispherical tents dappled with the same blue and violet of the fern-trees that surrounded them. Fall had come to the foothills, and rolling lilac waves lay under the cloudless pink Falaran sky.

  The transport rocked on its repeller fields as it touched down among the clusters of G.A.E. craft. The men lined up to disembark, ignoring Rand and Zara in favor of whatever screens and games they’d managed to steal.

  It occurred to Zara that Godsson might be in for an unpleasant surprise. Since taking over the Heaven colony thirty years ago, he’d maintained an iron control over the media his people had access to, especially the comp screens he’d declared tools of the Dark One.

  Now thousands of his soldiers were getting exposure to ideas his theocracy hadn’t thoroughly vetted -- particularly when it came to the otherwise common knowledge that Godsso
n had an extensive list of interstellar convictions for running cons on a dozen planets.

  Zara grinned darkly, enjoying the thought that Godsson’s greed could be the thing that brought him down. Too bad it might not be in time to save her people.

  Or Zara herself, for that matter.

  When the vampire stood and took her elbow, she allowed herself to be shepherded off the transport, the pack slung over her uni-clad shoulder. Given Rand’s rank, the pair of them were the first to disembark from the transport. Zara’s shoulder blades itched from all the glares aimed her way.

  “Ignore them,” the captain murmured as they walked up the aisle to the hatch. “Don’t give them the satisfaction of giving a shit what they think.”

  Easy for you to say, she thought resentfully. You’re not the one they’re calling a bloodwhore.

  Though in the eyes of these fanatics, being a vampire was probably worse. Rand certainly didn’t walk like a man with something to be ashamed of. Maybe he did know what he was talking about, at that.

  So she let him guide her down the transport’s ramp, trying to look as if she hadn’t done anything wrong and didn’t give a damn if anyone else thought she had.

  Her attention fell on a tall, angular man who stood at the foot of the ramp. His hair was nothing more than a thin fringe, his mouth almost lipless under his prominent Roman nose, his eyes as blue and frigid as an ice melt lake. He wore a colonel’s comets on the high collar of his red and black uniform. She recognized him from the recognizance reports. The commanding officer of this base. Colonel Lordsvengeance.

  And he looked thoroughly pissed off. The glare he aimed at Rand could have burned a hole in three meters of ultranium bulkhead.

  He turned that glittering attention on Zara next, and her stomach instantly coiled into a sick knot. There was something almost erotic in that frigid stare, a kind of lust, but not for Zara’s body. What this bastard wants is pain.

  Given half a chance, he’d torture her for the sheer pleasure of listening to her scream. By comparison, Godshammer looked almost wholesome.

  “I won’t let him have you,” Rand promised, his voice so soft a human couldn’t have heard him.

  Zara threw him a grateful look. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “For the record, Captain,” the colonel announced in a subzero voice, “You are not to pursue… war crimes charges --” He grimaced in distaste at the phrase. “Against any of my men. Particularly not Lieutenant Godshammer.”

  Rand stiffened. “It was a war crime. They attempted to rape this woman, Colonel.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” Lordsvengeance curled a thin lip at her. “This little bloodwhore asked for it, and in any case, His Most Exalted has ordered the faithful to discipline Falaran females who dare take up arms against His divine will.”

  Furious, Zara opened her mouth, only to feel Rand wrap a big hand around hers, the motion hidden by his body.

  “Godsson signed the Treaty of Vermillion,” the vampire pointed out. “He agreed those under his command would not sexually assault enemy combatants.”

  “An agreement with infidels is not binding on His Most Transcendent.”

  “That’s not surprising,” Zara snapped, “Considering he’s a fucking con ar…”

  “Enough!” Rand snarled, his armored fingers clamping down on hers, almost tight enough to break bones.

  She shut her mouth so fast, she tasted blood.

  The colonel looked her over the way he would a poodle who’d puddled on his boots. “I wonder,” Lordsvengeance mused in a silken voice, “if this creature knows where her Falaran battalion has holed up. Perhaps I should… ask her.” There was something eager and repellent in those cold, cold eyes that made Zara’s guts freeze.

  “Come now, Colonel,” Rand said blandly. “Do you seriously think the Falarans would have told a female anything worth knowing?”

  The officer made a sound somewhere between frustration and agreement. “Good point, I suppose.” His lips curled in a chilly smile. “Besides, at the moment you need this little whore with her blood still pumping. After the hemosynther arrives, I’ll take her off your hands and discipline her as she so richly deserves.”

  Rand inclined his head. “As you say, Colonel.”

  For the first time, the man deigned to address her. “It would be to your advantage to make yourself useful, bitch.” He curled his thin upper lip. “Otherwise you could find your life much shorter than you’d like -- and very, very painful.” He started to turn away, then paused. “Do remember what I said about those war crimes charges.” His chilly gaze flicked toward Zara. “Especially given that taking a female for sexual use makes you just as guilty as those you’d accuse.”

  Expressionless, Rand said, “I won’t be filing a report.”

  “See that you don’t.” The colonel strutted away.

  Once he was gone, Rand turned to Zara and said in a low, deadly voice, “What the hell was that?”

  “He…”

  “That man is a psychopath, Lieutenant,” he said through his teeth. “You do not want to be at his mercy.”

  “No,” she admitted in a small voice. “I really don’t.”

  Rand sighed, sounding weary. “When I said I wouldn’t let him have you, I meant it. But I’d just as soon not have to go to war with him -- not until I’m ready for it, anyway.” His gaze heated. “But I’ll tell you what I am ready for.” His teeth flashed in a predatory smile. “You. And this time, I want more than a taste.”

  Zara swallowed as her nipples drew into hard points.

  * * *

  She was intensely aware of Rand’s hold on her elbow as he steered her through the clusters of dome-shaped shelters that made up the base. His armored fingers felt cool and powerful.

  Excitement buzzed through her, frothing in her blood, even as she told herself she had no business letting this man get to her. No business responding to him like this.

  Yet even as she lectured herself, her heart pounded, and she had a humiliating suspicion that she was going wet between her thighs.

  This was far too much like the fantasies she’d had -- those rough erotic dreams of her college years which had inspired her to join the Vampire Defense Program to begin with.

  Zara edged a guilty glance up at the features visible through his faceplate: the intensely masculine angles of cheekbones and chin, the blade of his nose, the short dark hair that lay over his skull, tempting her with its glossy sheen.

  She curled her fingers against her palm. God, she’d love to run her hands through that thick silk.

  What would his body look like? How would his cock feel, stroking hard and deep into her pussy? Her mouth went dry with need at the thought of the raw pleasure she’d find in that driving penetration, the feel of his mouth on her skin, the sharp, sweet penetration of his fangs.

  This enemy captain was the embodiment of every fantasy she’d ever had, as Andre never had been. Andre, her friend and partner, whom she’d hurt with expectations he could never meet. Hell, couldn’t even understand.

  The fact that she might actually want to be spanked made no sense to Andre. His bewilderment made her feel like she really was a bloodwhore. She’d carried so much guilt about her fantasies for years -- guilt that had only intensified when Andre died saving her life.

  How could she feel this intense desire for the enemy? Yes, she had to let him feed on her. Without Rand’s protection, she’d face an ugly death at the hands of that psychotic colonel, not to mention all the other fanatics on this base. She couldn’t afford to piss the vampire off.

  So yes, she had to submit to Rand. She might even have to sleep with him. He was a vampire mercenary, and that’s what he would expect. But sleeping with him, letting him feed from her, did not mean wanting him like this.

  She had to get control of this craving.

  No, what I really need to do is escape. Get out of this place, and away from these vicious fanatics. Away from the vampire’s seductive temptation, before she los
t herself. Before he seduced her into giving up more than blood and body.

  Before he turned her into a traitor.

  Zara straightened under his hand, pulled her shoulders into a military posture, and prepared to do battle against her own need.

  Rand steered her into his tent. It was ruthlessly Spartan; its only furniture was a bunk barely big enough to accommodate his brawny height, a locker, and a small folding table and chair. She was relieved to see his bunk was the only one there.

  “You don’t have a tentmate?”

  He shrugged. “Nobody wanted to share a shelter with a vampire.” Dryly, he added, “Evidently they think being damned is contagious.”

  “That or they’re afraid you’d be overcome with bloodlust and attack them in their sleep.”

  “Yeah, I don’t get that hungry.”

  As Zara moved further into the tent, she noticed images cycling over the table’s surface. It was evidently the kind that did double duty as a computer. She eyed it, as it displayed shots of Rand in a variety of uniforms, surrounded by grinning uniformed people with fangs. Fellow vampire mercenaries?

  Another shot appeared, this one of a lovely older woman with dark hair and Rand’s clever green eyes. Zara frowned at the nagging feeling she knew the lady from somewhere. She had no idea why.

  Rand stepped around Zara, and headed for the bed. She stared, instantly forgetting about the image sequence.

  He touched the seam at his throat and the top half of his mechsuit split open, collapsing so he could strip it off like a coat. The lid of Rand’s locker slid aside, probably in response to some signal from his comp implant. He folded the suit coat and stowed it neatly away.

  Leaving his chest deliciously bare.