Born of Fire

If he knew anything, it was that Shahara Dagan didn’t practice bedroom politics.

She began unbraiding her hair. His arguments scattering, Syn watched her separate the thick, heavy, mahogany tresses. Every inch of his body burned for her as he imagined her long, graceful fingers caressing his flesh with the same tenderness she used to stroke her hair.

She climbed onto his bed.

Oh yeah, baby . . .

Resting on her knees, she arched her back and ran her hands through the soft, tangled hair that tumbled around her, framing her face to perfection.

Did she have any idea what such a pose did to a man?

His throat suddenly dry, he burned. He took a step toward her, then stopped.

It was a trick.

Granted he’d had more than his share of women come on to him unexpectedly, but he wasn’t dumb or conceited enough to believe for a single instant that he could inspire Seax Shahara Dagan to forget her duty.

Unlike most fools, he’d never fall for such an obvious trick. But far be it from him to tell her that.

He smiled wickedly, wondering how far she’d go with her ruse. This was one show he planned to savor.

Leaning her head back to expose the graceful column of her throat, she tossed her hair over her shoulders before trailing her hands slowly over her thighs and breasts.

She hesitated at the fasteners of her battlesuit.

Would she dare?

She did. Feeling as if he were being tortured, he followed the path of her hands as she lowered the opening of her suit to reveal the black lace of her undergarments. And the luscious swell of her breasts.

“Well?” Her husky voice drove him almost beyond his limit as he imagined sliding one hand inside that suit and cupping her.

She leaned forward, her breasts barely remaining inside the black lace barrier as she wiggled her way-too-attractive hips. “Would you like to join me?”

Yes . . .

If it were any other woman, he wouldn’t hesitate at the invitation.

Hell, he could barely refuse her now.

But then he was used to disappointment.

It was time she learned what happened to little seaxes who played deadly games. Crossing the floor in three strides, he reached out for her.

Just as he almost touched her, she struck out like lightning. With a resounding curse, she fastened the front of her battlesuit and sprang from the bed.

Syn ducked her roundhouse kick and moved to a safe distance. “Don’t try this crap with me,” he growled, his lust instantly dying as his will to survive took over. “I’m a street fighter and you will get hurt.”

“So am I and so will you.” Rushing toward him, she punched at his throat. He caught her wrist in his hand and pulled her up against him. Her breath left her in a startled gasp as she collided with the solid wall of muscle. Her heart thundered in her ears and fear scaled her throat.

His steely hands closed around her arms. “Let go of me!” She stomped on his instep, twisting free of his hold.

Syn cursed, moving away from the wild byrollo. What kind of shoes did she have on? They sliced like knives even through his heavy boots.

Her eyes narrowed at him in hatred. Quicker than he could react, she dove for the bottle and rose with it.

“Put it down.” He kept his voice level. “If I draw my blaster one more time, I will kill you.”

She lifted the bottle higher. “Open the front door,” she demanded in a strident tone that told him just how desperate she was.

Only too well, he understood her panic and fear. He didn’t like being cornered either. “I’m not going to hurt you. Put the bottle down and just talk to me.”

Shahara curled her lip in disgust. Did he really think she was stupid enough to release her only weapon? Especially after his threat? “Go to hell.”

He smiled, flashing a single dimple in his left cheek. She licked her dry lips, afraid of what the smile signified.

“Okay, keep the bottle. Just talk to me like two rational people and maybe we can find a solution to this problem. Deal?”

She tightened her grip on the bottle, wanting to toss it at his arrogant head. “I don’t make deals with convicted rapists and murderers, I take them to justice.”

His smile vanished. “I have never raped or murdered anyone. And I damn sure haven’t been convicted of it.” The other charges were a different matter that he wasn’t about to bring up to her.

“That’s not what the contract on your life says.”

His jaw tensed. “I didn’t rape or murder Kiara Zamir.”

“Tell it to the Overseer.”

Syn stifled his curse. Was there not one person in the fucking universe who could believe the truth when he spoke it? This wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. Kiara’s father wouldn’t listen to reason any more than this headstrong tracer.