Unfortunately, there’s always a price and it presents itself as the darkly dangerous Barak Trace. She can’t deny the attraction, but has enough sense to steer clear of the possessive glint in his gaze. Until he somehow manages to merge his psychic abilities with hers. When he’s captured by rebel forces, she has no choice but to go after him. The question is will she be able to free himself once he’s rescued? And will she even want?
She'd vacillated between fury and abject terror so much over the past few days she didn't know if she was coming or going anymore. It wasn’t fear of being injured or killed herself that worried her. She’d been in worse tight spots. No. It was the loss of half of her soul that terrified her. Damn Barak. When she got her hands on him she might kill him herself for putting her in this position.
Britt Anderson stood back in the shadows of an alley, in the massive Southern city on Delroi that was the seat of the Rebels' power. It was called Saber City, named after the ruling Saber Clan. She watched and waited for a signal from Jaxon and his men. The Overchief's men. And while her old friend Kendall may have mated with the Delroi leader, Britt only trusted them because they worked for Barak, the Delroi Spymaster who'd somehow tied his soul to hers moments before being taken prisoner by these Southern rebels. She had no idea who’d taken him or why, but she'd been looking for him for weeks.
The darkness in front of her shifted the slightest fraction, the barest inch, and her eyes narrowed. Focused. Picked apart the shadows. Not something a regular person--a non-combatant--would have noticed, could have done. She pressed her lips together and bit hard, reminding herself. She'd never been one of them. Never been a civilian. Never been a normal functioning part of the masses.
She sensed the spy moving up to her before she saw him. Didn't tense and give herself away as he approached. Barely managed to not flinch. She gritted her teeth. Where was all her fabled cold, self-control now?
"The informant says he's in there," Jaxon whispered, nodding once towards the building across the street and two doors down. "We have someone inside but you won't have a lot of time. Get in and get out. You have twenty minutes to get to the rendezvous point."
She nodded. "Got it," she replied so softly her words were a whisper of air, the barest current.
She hoped like hell she did. The place was a warren. The streets and lanes and alleys were narrow twisting paths, the five and six story buildings so close they blotted out the sky. It was almost like being back on Earth where she'd done a brief stint in the Moroccan Kasbah, which was not reassuring because she'd never figured it out either.
Jaxon moved closer to her, close enough to brush up against her side, and even though she knew he wasn't interested in her at all, it made her skin crawl. It made her nervous and shifty and want to lash out. She ground her teeth together. This was not like her. This was Barak not wanting anyone near her. This was her letting him affect her even though he'd gone quiet. She almost growled, but repressed the urge as Jaxon began whispering instructions in her ear. It could wait--her anger and frustration--until they were sure Barak was free and safe. Then she would make him pay for all her discomfort.
