The Nemesis Chronicles-Book Two
Shayna, a touch telepath, has pressing goals—lose her virginity to someone she can’t read before her father changes her to an immortal form, find out who or what she is and kill whoever is trying to kidnap her. Easy? Not so much.
Daemon, a Tauran warrior, is stuck on a diplomatic mission, escorting Tauran ambassadors to Capra for trade negotiations with the ruler of Free Space. He never expected to find and claim his mate while he was there. And he certainly never expected her to be Drake’s virginal daughter. He’d always hoped to die in battle.
Drake has problems. Two mighty empires near Free Space are at war. Delvans have tried to capture his adopted daughter. A Tauran warrior has claimed her. His son, Jonathan, seems hell bent on killing her new mate. Vengeance, his son’s wraith, is behaving stranger than normal. If that weren’t enough, Nemesis has been in hibernation for over two-hundred years with no sign of waking. He never wanted this job.
Excerpt:
Since the arrival of the newcomers, Daemon was even more on edge. He tried hard to not glance over his shoulder in their direction. He’d heard the larger male order drinks, but hadn’t been able to hear what the female had said or what he’d told her in response. He couldn’t help but think they were being quiet because of him and Garrett. Occasionally, he’d catch a scent from the male and the D’Lyrian. Both seemed normal, however, the D’Lyrian’s was tainted, faintly. The female’s proved more difficult. He suspected her cloak covered the scent.
He hand signaled his frustration to Garrett, who agreed and signed back he’d not had any success either. He’d also included a nasty message, telling him to forget about the strangers and enjoy himself. Daemon laughed out loud at the crude comment.
At the moment, he had another beer to choke down. This one tasted better than the last…soap scum. He wondered what whiskey might taste like, and at the thought he glanced over at his neighbor’s empty glass.
Beyond it, two of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen stared back at him. He quickly looked away, but not before noting how incredibly attractive she was. Tendrils of black hair framed her delicate face. Her wine-stained lips were lush and way too inviting for him to chance another look. She’d been leaning her chin against her gloved hands, which were clasped and resting on the bar’s edge. Was she that short?
Unable to resist, he glanced her way and saw that one of the males must have pulled a stool over so she could sit. He swore silently and vowed to not look at her again. A female who was surrounded so protectively was off-limits to any rational thinking male.
Garrett kicked his boot against the side of Daemon’s just as a Tauran spacer staggered up to the bar and clapped them both on the shoulders. He was obnoxious and beyond drunk.
“You two aren’t the only big males in town tonight, right?” He swayed, barely able to stand. The major problem was his inability to shut his mouth. “You should challenge him for that female,” he said, each word spoken louder than the last.
A soft growl came from the wall area where the D’Lyrian warrior leaned. The drunken spacer took a couple steps toward the dark-haired male, saying, “Let’s take a look at the goods.”
*
Jonathan cursed under his breath and bent slightly to reach for one of his daggers. As his hand closed around the handle, the drunken Tauran lurched backward, viciously snatched away by the warrior nearest him and slammed head first against the bar top. The other warrior silenced the troublemaker with a hard punch to the jaw when he continued to protest. He motioned for the other spacers to come and collect their unconscious friend.
“Sorry,” the first warrior grumbled the apology. “He’s an idiot.”
Jonathan nodded and let go of his dagger. He glanced at Reardon and raised his brows. His friend answered with a slight shrug.
A different bartender, male, had made his way to the end of the bar during the brief scuffle. He caught Jonathan’s attention and asked if they would like to order something different.
“Finally,” Reardon gritted out.
Once again, Jonathan ordered their drinks. After he paid an exorbitant amount in credits, they had more whiskey, wine and a tiny data disc. He slipped it to Shayna for safekeeping.
“Good thing I wore that bra,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “Drink up so we can get out of here.”
Jonathan leaned his back against the bar while he watched the crowd. He noticed how the warrior who’d apologized for the spacer glanced toward them, not often but more than usual. He looked down at Shayna. Sure enough, she leaned across the bar top just far enough to peek back at him.
He nudged her—hard. “Would you stop looking at the nice warrior? You’ll irritate him.”
“Oh, sorry,” she muttered.
*
Daemon smiled. He’d heard the exchange between them and knew they were about to leave. Suddenly his irritation level spiked and he struggled to gain control. After all, there was no reason for him to be upset. For a short while, he’d been able to enjoy a few stolen glances with a beautiful female. He’d tasted beer, hopefully for the last time, and he’d prevented a brawl.
Normally, he’d have welcomed a good bar fight, but this time things had been different. He wasn’t about to allow anyone to hurt the female. After an exchange of hand signs, he knew Garrett thought he’d lost his mind. Daemon blamed the beer.
WE DON'T BELONG HERE!
