The Danger that is Damion
ZODIUS #3
By Lisa Renee Jones
Sourcebooks Casablanca (May 2012)
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General Powell from book 1 has returned and he’s developed a way to create and control a new generation of female GTECHs. He plans to use these women to bring both, the Renegades and the Zodius soldiers, back under his command. The world will be his. Now, Damion, a Renegade, who readers met in book two, will be pitted against one of those soldiers, a woman destined to be both his Lifebond and his enemy. Damion will become her only hope of salvation and their trust in each other the only chance they have to save the world from a madman.
Excerpt ONE
Setup– They are in an elevator about to exit into a hidden underground facility. Heroine is the hero’s captive. They both think the other one is the enemy.
***
Being trapped with her back to a big, dangerous GTECH, not once, but twice in an hour, growing more physically ill with each passing second, didn’t exactly invite more of her bravado, but nevertheless, Lara gave it a whirl. “Are we really doing this little game again?” she demanded, trying to keep her voice as cool as the el- elevator wall that her hands pressed against, only to sound breathless, as though she were affected by her captive position, by the heat radiating off his big body into hers.
“You mean the one where I search you to make sure you don’t get to keep your promise to kill me?” he said, his body framing hers, his hands sliding to her waist. “Yeah. We are.”
“I guess Renegades don’t believe in facing their en- emies head on?” she taunted, trying to get him to turn her back around, before he found her weapon. Fighting him would be wasted energy she’d need when a real opportunity to escape materialized. Saving her weapon had to be her goal. “You just prefer to stab them in the back.” That last part wasn’t a question. She knew it was true. She’d witnessed it firsthand.
“I’m not the one threatening to kill you,” he re- minded her.
“It’s not a threat,” she managed, and to her dismay, he slid his leg intimately between hers and spread them wide. A sudden, unforgiving ache spread between her legs, an ache that belied who and what this man was. An ache he had to be creating, just as he was weakening her physically. He was messing with her mind, her skills, her body. “Then you know why you’re facing the wall, and I’m not,” he said, his tone low and sandpaper rough. “In fact, keep your hands on said wall until I tell you to move them.”
“In other words, don’t reach for the gun my bikini is hiding so effectively?” She tried to look over her shoulder at him, but froze when he framed her body, his hands covering hers and pressing them to the wall. His palms slid back down her arms, leaving a sizzling burn in their wake.
“Exactly,” he agreed, his fingers framing her waist, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he added, “I fully admit to a macho need to be the only one of the two of us armed and dangerous in this relationship.” His palms skimmed over her hips and down her thighs, until he was squatting down beneath her skirt, patting down her shoes.
“We don’t have a relationship,” she said, hating the unsteady, telling note in her voice that having this man sitting beneath the hem of her dress had created. “We are experiencing an unfortunate encounter that is out- lasting its welcome.”
“Sounds like the beginning of something wonderful to me,” he commented, a moment before his warm, cal- lused fingers traced her calves and moved to her knees.
“Hey!” she objected, reaching down and catching his hand, as she met his gaze. “Not under the dress.”
“Oh yes,” he assured her, an evil glint of mischief in both his voice and his expression, “under the dress. I promise to make it fast and painless. Now be a good girl, and put your hands back on the wall.”
Why did this man telling her to be a “good girl” and ordering her to put her hands back on the wall sound sexy, rather than insulting?
“Painless for you,” she ground out, clenching her teeth. “And I swear to you if I get even a hint of an idea you’re enjoying this, you’ll be sorry.” She cut her gaze to the wall and steeled herself for his exploration—the outcome. He was going to find her knife. “Do it, and get it over with.”
“Now there’s a line to break a man’s heart,” he said with a chuckle, wasting no time skimming her skirt up- ward, over her thighs, until he caressed her hips and then her backside. She squeezed her eyes shut as his fingers slid to the V of her legs.
Instinctively, she squeezed her legs shut, and what a mistake that was. “You’re pushing your luck,” she panted, his hand now firmly planted between her thighs.
“I never had any luck to start with,” he said, the fingers of his free hand splaying across her stomach. “Which is why I can’t leave any bit of tiny bikini cloth unexplored.” Before she could stop him, his hand slid between her breasts and pulled the blade free. A sec- ond later, her dress fell back into place, and he waved the leather-pouched knife between them. “Good thing I don’t believe in luck.” The knife disappeared.
“One last little inspection,” he said softly, and pressed her head forward, brushing the hair from her neck. She froze with the knowledge of what he was looking for, with the sudden spike in sexual energy between them, with the sensual feel of him stroking the delicate skin of her nape.
Seconds ticked by, silent seconds in which the air seemed to thicken, and her skin tingled. She was warm all over, aware of this GTECH on levels she shouldn’t be, and guilt twisted inside her. He was a GTECH, a Renegade, a betrayer and killer.
But when he turned her to face him, his hands going to the wall above her head, and she was captured in his downright scorching gaze, she was lost all over again.
“Just confirming you don’t wear a Lifebond mark,” he said.
The mention of the tattoo-like double circle that ap- peared on a woman’s neck the first time she had sex with her intended mate set her pulse racing, though she couldn’t say why. Of course, he wanted to check for the mark. If she had a Lifebond, he’d be hunting for her. He’d kill for her.
“I knew what you were looking for,” she said, her throat ridiculously dry. She was a GTECH. She should have better control than this. But when his gaze slid to her mouth and lingered, and she knew he was think- ing of kissing her, Lara burned so badly for that kiss. Wanted it to the point where she could have justified it, could have told herself it was to manipulate him, to earn her freedom.
“It appears,” he said in a whisky-rough voice, “you belong to no one.”
When Lara normally would have snapped back some reply like, “I’ll never Lifebond with a GTECH,” instead, for some reason, she simply said, “I belong to myself.”
“Correction,” he said. A hint of a predatory gleam flickered in his eyes. “Right now, you belong to me.”
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