She survived the swamps. She survived exile. But can she survive falling for her enemy?

One year. That's how long Dey was sentenced to exile in the deadliest swamp imaginable—punishment for crimes she committed to protect her friend. Abandoned with nothing but her wits and her symbiont, she became something the wilderness couldn't break: prey who became the hunter.

But when Kegtaar—the Beast warrior who once betrayed her—captures her along with the last remnants of her people, survival takes on a new meaning. He claims he searched for her during her exile. Claims he wants to make her his wife. Claims the passion between them is worth crossing every line the war has drawn.

Dey knows better than to trust a Beast. She's seen what his kind does in war. She's killed his soldiers to survive. And yet, with his hands on her skin and his vows in her ears, she can feel her walls crumbling.

When a vengeful enemy threatens everything Dey has come to love, she must choose: let the past define her future, or fight for a love that could heal the wounds of war.

In a world where love has no politics, one woman will discover that the most dangerous battle is the one for her own heart.

A fierce heroine. A relentless warrior. A love forged in fire. Perfect for readers who crave slow burn, low‑spice romantic fantasy with danger, devotion, and emotional depth.

A sizzling but not explicit romance novel.

Readers are saying:

"A fierce heroine, a relentless warrior, and a love forged in the fires of war—this romance will leave you breathless."

 

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CHAPTER 1

Dey leaned against the rough bark of a giant tree, its gnarled trunk wide enough to hide three people her size. She watched the Beasts ride in on their hover sleds. The mechanical hum of the sleds cut through the humid air, a sound that always made the hair on her arms stand up.

There were six of them this time. Each rode a different sled shaped like some predatory animal—a wolf, a bear, something with too many teeth. The sleds glowed faintly blue at the edges, casting eerie light across the packed dirt of the settlement's main thoroughfare. But it was the helmets that really got to her. Those fantastical beast-headed masks with their glowing eyes made the riders look like something that had crawled out of the old nightmares, the ones her grandmother used to tell about the wars.

Dey was one of those who watched them with suspicion. Allowing the Beasts to come in, even for trading day, was a bad idea. The settlement elders could talk all they wanted about peace treaties and mutual benefit, but she'd seen the weapons they carried, heard the stories about the cities they'd reclaimed beyond the swamp borders.

One Beast turned his head to stare directly at her. The movement was slow, deliberate. His helmet's eye slits glowed red in the afternoon light. A shiver kissed her spine, cold despite the muggy heat. He didn't look away. Just kept watching her as his sled drifted past, silent except for that low mechanical hum.

Unwilling to provoke a scene—not here, not with half the settlement watching—Dey pushed off from the tree and walked away. Her boots squelched slightly in the damp earth as she headed toward the relative safety of the market stalls.

***

One month later.

Good. The bad moon was rising.

Dey drew in a deep breath, pulling the night air deep into her lungs. Her heart hammered against her ribs, that familiar rush of adrenaline flooding her system. She focused on her breathing, slowing it down, channeling all that nervous energy into something she could use. Legend might have it that the bad moon was the undoing of maidens and favored only wild young men, but tonight this moon was going to open a door to untold treasure.

Sweet, wild night air filled her lungs, laden with the thick scent of blooming swamp plants. Flowers and something earthier, darker—the smell of rich mud and decomposing vegetation. The tree she was perched in swayed gently with a mild spring wind. Its leaves rustled and whispered around her, creating a sound like running water. Below, a river rushed past, swollen fat from the winter storms. The water had cut a new channel dangerously close to the ancient ziggurat squatting on its banks. The current churned white over submerged rocks, loud enough that she had to strain to hear Luna's breathing beside her.

One day those rushing waters would engulf the ruins entirely and destroy the prize within. The river was patient. It could wait.

That was all the more reason for them to steal the treasure first.

"Soon now," her friend Luna whispered. She checked her laser gun one last time, the faint blue glow of its power cell illuminating her face for just a moment before she dimmed it.

"The sooner the better." Dey rubbed the chill bumps on her arms vigorously, trying to generate some warmth. The temperature had dropped with nightfall, and her sleeveless vest wasn't doing much to keep out the cold. She hated these nighttime raids—hated the waiting, the darkness, the way every sound made her jump. But not enough to give them up. Her part of the loot could be attained no other way. She needed those maps, needed the money they'd bring.

She eyed Luna, thinking that one of them had to be crazy to keep this up. Probably both of them. "Creepy old temples."

Luna grinned, her teeth white in the moonlight. "If you think so, why do you come?"

For my maps, and to save your silly behind if something goes wrong. "For the thrill, of course."

The shadows on the moon dial—that flat-topped pyramid face that caught the light just right—inched closer to their goal. The ancient Beasts had been clever builders. Only at the full rising of the bad moon, when the parent moons were fast asleep and hidden below the horizon, did the opportunity come to raid this ziggurat. It had taken them weeks of clambering all over the jungle-claimed heap, digging through centuries of accumulated dirt and vegetation. But they'd uncovered the hieroglyphics and ancient warnings, deciphered them with painstaking care. Thanks to them and Luna's sister's careful research, they'd known what to expect.

Dey grinned. Big sister had never intended her research to be used for this.

She glanced at her friend. Moonlight glinted off Luna's blond hair, bleaching it white as bone. The effect made her look ghostly, ethereal. Tomb raiding was in Luna's blood—literally, given what Dey suspected about her heritage. Nothing excited her like stealing a piece of her birthright from those who'd spawned her and then abandoned her. It was revenge, pure and simple, and for Luna it was fun. Had Dey not volunteered to accompany her, Luna would have come alone and risked herself for the thrill.

Not that anything living still haunted these piles of crumbling stone. The jungle had reclaimed most of it, roots breaking apart the carefully fitted blocks, vines covering the ancient carvings. No, the guardians of these temples had long ago forsaken them for other pastures.

Well, most of them.

A soft chime split the air, pure and clear as crystal. Moonlight hit full upon the moon dial, reflecting off the silvery fin on top. The light bounced to a precisely placed mirror set in one of the broken columns that had once held the roof. Somewhere deep in the ziggurat's guts, gears ground into motion. A concealed door slid open with a grinding shriek of stone on stone. This was it!

Dey jumped out of the tree after Luna, landing in a crouch. She flexed her knees as her boots hit the gritty stone, absorbing the impact. Her laser gun was already in her hand, safety off, finger resting beside the trigger. She swept the area visually, checking for movement, for anything that didn't belong.

Luna yanked a thick rod from her tool belt and held it in the doorway. She thumbed the release switch. The rod telescoped with a series of metallic clicks, jamming itself between the stone door and its frame. If this worked, they wouldn't be trapped inside when the mechanism reset.

Provided they survived, of course.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the door tried to grind shut. Ancient motors whined in protest. The bar quivered, metal groaning under the pressure, but held. A faint vibration in the delicate bones of Dey's ears warned her of danger—some subsonic frequency that made her teeth ache. She donned her night vision goggles, stolen from another buried site. The world turned green and grainy, but at least she could see.

Luna needed no such augmentation. Another benefit of her mixed blood.

With the utmost caution, they descended the ancient stone staircase. Each step was worn smooth in the center from countless feet over countless years. Dey tested her weight on each one, senses honed by danger to razor sensitivity. The air smelled old down here, dusty and dry despite the swamp's omnipresent humidity. Five steps down, Luna stopped.

"Paranoid little beasties, weren't they?" Dey whispered with graveyard humor. The subtle buzz in the air had increased to a subsonic whine that raised the fine hairs all over her body. Her skin prickled with it.

The corridor in front of them remained dark, even with her night vision goggles.

Luna took a pebble from her pocket and tossed it into the quiet stairway. Instantly the air flashed red—a brilliant, blinding red that seared Dey's retinas even through the goggles. The pebble evaporated. Just gone, not even ash remaining.

Luna nodded, satisfied. "Motion-sensitive diffuser beam." She drew a faceted, mirrored ball from the same pocket and tossed it into the hall. "Let's see you eat this," she muttered.

There was a small explosion of white light and a loud, sharp zap that echoed down the corridor. The ball clunked to the ground, unharmed, mirrored surface still intact.

Satisfied, Luna strolled forward like she owned the place, picked up the ball and stuck it back in her pocket.

Ten steps down, the stairway ended in a black chasm ten feet wide and the width of the passage. Dey's night vision goggles couldn't penetrate the darkness below. Could be ten feet down, or a hundred. On the other side, the corridor stretched away, ending in a faint golden glow that promised something worth finding.

A false end, Dey thought as she watched Luna turn to her left, close her eyes, and feel along the wall. The stone was slick like glass. The joining was very smooth, expertly crafted, but Luna's sensitive fingertips must have picked up the outline of a door. Further searching revealed the catch—a small depression in the stone, barely big enough for a thumb.

Luna smiled and drew her gun. She hit the release and jumped back.

The panel exploded against the opposing wall with the force of a battering ram, shattering against the stone in a shower of fragments. Dust swirled up thick, making Dey cough. Red eyes glowed from inside the cloud, just beyond the black square where the door had been. Twin points of malevolent light.

Fear and thrill sped through Dey's veins in equal measure, her heart kicking into overdrive. The robotic guardian—still for uncounted years, waiting—rushed them. Its metal feet clanged on stone. They fired. Pop! Ping! Thwang! The sounds echoed crazily in the confined space. The beast-headed giant crumpled to the ground, trailing acrid smoke that stung Dey's nose.

Luna stood over it in disgust, nudging it with one boot. "We barely hit the thing, and look! The smoke's not even coming from where we shot it."

Dey toed it cautiously, ready to jump back if it so much as twitched. "Huh. Guess not even the ancient Beasts could make a device that lasted forever."

Luna shrugged and sheathed her gun with practiced ease. Eager to get her hands on the unguarded technology of ancient civilizations, she entered the now-lighted passage. Lights had flickered on when the door opened, dim and yellowish with age.

Dey followed slowly, every nerve on high alert for danger. According to the ancient warnings, the robot had been the last menace, but one never knew. The Beasts had been devious builders. Just beyond the darkened hallway she could see into the sealed room. It was full of weapons and machinery that would bring a pretty price from the collectors in their settlement. The metal gleamed even under the failing lights, still pristine after all these years. Even though none of them chose to fight in the far-off Beast Wars, the settlers were eager to arm themselves in the unlikely event that the conflict was ever brought within the boundaries of their swamps.

Just as Luna's foot landed on the threshold, Dey looked up. And yelled.

Something huge and heavy dropped down on her from above. She caught a glimpse of a dark figure, smelled leather and sweat. Dey fought like a madwoman, kicking and twisting with everything she had. Her elbow connected with something solid. Her boot scraped down a shin. Finally, her teeth found purchase in an arm.

"Ow! Little witch," a familiar male voice complained.

Surprised, Dey let go and looked up into a face she knew too well. "You!"

"Hello, midget." Keg grunted as the little fireball stomped his instep in fury and tried to bite him again. Her teeth snapped together an inch from his forearm. "Glad to see you, too," he grumbled as he spun her around and pinned her to the wall for a quick frisk. He had to check for weapons. Had to. Even if the feel of her body against his was making it hard to concentrate.

"Get your hands off of me, you goon!" She tried to strike back at him, twisting like an eel. But he was ready for it. He twisted her arm behind her back, held it in a particularly uncomfortable position—not enough to hurt, just enough to immobilize—and flattened her to the wall.

"Go easy on me, will you?" he asked with as much humor as his exasperation would allow. Who did she think she was, a war goddess? "I'm afraid of pain."

She mumbled something especially uncomplimentary into the stone.

He grinned behind her back, knowing she couldn't see it. "What? I can't hear you with your lips on the wall."

She grunted but relaxed enough to show her willingness to cooperate. Finally. He released her arm and patted her down, professional and thorough. He'd been trained for this.

"That's not a weapon," she grumbled when his hands brushed impersonally against her small but firm breasts. The contact was brief, necessary.

"Maybe in the right hands," he murmured appreciatively. He slid his hand inside her bodice to withdraw a tiny grenade, no bigger than a walnut. "But I think this is, don't you?"

She shut up. Her sullen silence continued as he relieved her of explosives, her gun, and assorted sharp objects. The woman was packing enough for a small army. He found knives in her boots, tucked in her belt, even one strapped to her thigh. Her good behavior ended abruptly when his hands brushed over her personal area, strictly as a matter of course—he had to check everywhere. She tried to hit him, but he pressed his palm against her back, keeping her to the wall.

"Relax, little girl," he said soothingly as he slowly eased off and let her turn around. "Just checking for surprises."

Her eyes narrowed behind her goggles as she yanked them down around her neck. "There's nothing there that you need to know about, swamp rat!"

Keg shook his head and gave her a small, guiding push toward the light filtering from the chamber ahead. "Trust me, midget, I wouldn't want to know."

That wasn't strictly true, of course. But his healthy male interest wouldn't interfere with his job just now. Dey and Luna had been crossing too many lines lately. It was time to put a stop to these adventures before somebody got hurt.

Dey gasped as she caught sight of her friend stretched out on the ground in the lighted chamber, surrounded by Keg's friends. The chamber was octagonal, walls lined with shelves holding ancient tech. "You didn't kill her, did you?"

Armetris, the man kneeling at Luna's side, ignored her question. He felt for a pulse at Luna's throat, his fingers gentle despite their size. His face relaxed, the tension around his eyes easing. He scowled at Razzi, the massive warrior who'd brought her down. "You didn't need to be so rough, you lug! You know her symbiont is just for show."

All eyes turned to the silver wristlets he spoke of. Though they were spiral like the living creature they resembled—delicate metalwork that looked almost organic—they didn't move to heal the slight swelling at the back of Luna's head, as a true symbiont would do for its human host.

But then, Luna was a little something more than human.

Unfazed by the criticism, Razzi shrugged his massive shoulders. The movement made the light flash on his symbiont, the silver band wrapped around his thick forearm. Same as they all wore. "I thought the goal was to give her a scare to keep her out of the old temples. Her finds are stirring up too much trouble with the Beasts. I couldn't do that by giving her a long kiss goodnight." His gaze moved to Dey as he spoke, a slight smile playing at his mouth.

Keg chuckled and Dey glared at him. He could almost read her mind. Stupid male humor, he thought as she wrinkled her nose with disgust.

The humor left him as he looked at Luna's unconscious form sprawled on the dusty floor. This was no light matter.

"Besides," Razzi continued, crossing his arms over his broad chest, "had we not disabled the guardian, she might have gotten more than a sore head."

Armetris fingered the hematite earring in his lobe as he considered the woman lying at his feet. His jaw was tight, expression conflicted.

Keg knew from his cousin's letters that once Luna would have listened had Armetris asked her to stop her activities. For that matter, she would have traveled the length of the swamps by snake-back had she thought it would impress him. The teenage Luna had been an amusing, but lovesick, tagalong—always right behind the young men who'd followed Armetris into danger. As often as they'd shake her, she would show up in the middle of their adventures at the worst possible times, appearing out of nowhere with that eager grin and ready weapon. It had come to either teaching her a warrior's survival skills or tying her up before they left home, something that would be difficult to explain to her overprotective brother.

About the time the slim girl had developed budding breasts and unwittingly caught the interest of two of the young warriors who'd attached to their group, Armetris had to forever end her adventures. She hadn't taken well to the exile, raging and pleading by turns. But what else could he have done?

The men who had tried to rape her had suffered worse.

Keg's jaw tightened as he recalled what else his cousin Armetris had told him in those long letters. Since her exile from 'the boys' Luna had taken to sulking in the swamps for days, sometimes weeks at a time. She'd camp out alone, risking the predators, just to avoid coming home. Even as she'd grown into adulthood, her hostility toward Armetris had not passed. She lived to cause him trouble. Her newest pastime, this technology tomb raiding, had gotten out of hand. Lately all they'd done was chase down and retrieve the things she'd sold to others, hiding them well out of the reach of greedy hands. To give her the credit due her, she'd kept the more damaging items out of the settlement, hiding them away in a yet-to-be-discovered spot.

They'd find it. They had to. But first they had to deal with her.

And deal with her man-eating sidekick.

He considered the petite Dey, taking in the pink ribbons woven through her dark hair, the way her full lips pouted whenever he was near. Early twenties or not, she could still pass for a much younger girl with those ribbons and that slight pout. Even the way she looked at him sideways, under her lashes, made her seem younger than her years.

Just now she stood there, arms crossed, pink nails tapping against her biceps. A mulish cast had settled over her pretty features. It was ludicrous.

"Whatever made you think you could guard her back, midget? One of the spiders crawling through these tombs could wrap you up and have you for a snack."

She bristled, shoulders going rigid. "A spider like you?"

She'd meant it as an insult, but still his lips curved into a provocative smile. "A leading question if ever I heard one. And here I thought you didn't like me." He winked at Razzi, who chuckled.

Dey fluttered her lashes at him, the movement exaggerated and mocking. But her expression remained irritable. "How could I not like an overgrown, obnoxious geek with a bad haircut—" she eyed his long topknot and shaved scalp with obvious disdain, "—bad taste in jewelry—" she wrinkled her nose at his turquoise earring, "—a tattoo he thinks is sexy—" she arched a brow at the black band circling his biceps, "—and poor bathing habits?"

The bathing crack was off the mark and juvenile besides. He dismissed it as desperation, since it had been a while since they'd traded insults and she was obviously rusty. But still. He couldn't let that one pass.

He leaned forward and breathed deeply of her scent, his nose almost touching her neck. She smelled like night-blooming flowers and fear-sweat. He relished her startled exhalation, the way her breath caught in her throat. "Hm. You smell pretty ripe, too. It's hard to find fresh water in a swamp, isn't it?"

It was no truer than her comment, but it did shut her up. Her mouth snapped closed.

Armetris came to a decision. "She'll live," he pronounced. He slung Luna over his shoulder as he rose to his feet, lifting her weight with ease. Her hands dangled down his back, brushing across his leather jacket as he moved toward the exit. Razzi trailed along behind, his heavy footfalls echoing in the chamber.

After gesturing for the still-simmering Dey to precede him, Keg fell in behind, pausing only to kill the lights in the now-empty chamber. The sudden darkness was absolute.

Luna would never find where they'd stashed the hoard now, even if she were dim enough to come back. Not that he could see her braving the backdoor again, not after this. A smile curled his mouth.

It was so much easier to use the front door, like them.

Hunger woke her.

Dey stirred and winced. A rock was poking her in the back, sharp and insistent. She was lying on someone's bedroll at the base of a swamp tree with huge aerial roots that arched up and over like the bones of some buried giant. Someone had draped a bug screen over the roots, using them as a tent frame to protect her and Luna from the worst of the insects. There was a loud splash to the side as something large submerged into deeper water, confirming their location as still in the lower swamps. By the arc of the moon—high and white and nearly full—it was well past midnight, edging toward daybreak.

A fire crackled to her right, orange flames dancing over the blackened logs. She squinted at the dark shape beyond it. Razzi glanced at her, his face half in shadow, then went back to his whittling. The rhythmic scrape of the knife on wood was oddly soothing. He was ignoring her, which was fine by her.

The covers fell to her lap as she sat up. Exhaustion from the night before encouraged her to lie back down—every muscle ached, her head felt stuffed with cotton. But she resisted, patting herself down for the packet of cleansing tissues she kept for moments like these. The gentle pop and hiss of the fire wasn't enough to cover her swearing when she realized someone had taken her combat vest.

"Having a bad morning?" Keg sat up and tossed off his own bug protection—a fine mesh that had been draped over him like a shroud. Then he reclined on one forearm, watching her with those unsettling blue eyes. The man had the uncanny ability to wake at the slightest noise. He was more alert than she could ever be so early in the morning, focused and assessing. Even so, he was human—his accent, an oddity in a settlement with few new arrivals, betrayed the huskiness of recent sleep.

Sub-human, she grumbled internally. The blankets slipped down his bare, muscular chest, revealing smooth skin over defined muscle. In spite of herself she sucked in a breath. No man should look so good that early in the morning, she thought testily. Especially one whom she was determined not to like.

Thoroughly put out, she groused, "Where's my gear? I need my stuff."

He reached behind him and tossed it to her without a word.

She fumbled in the pockets until she found the tissues, sighing with pleasure as she wiped the grime from her face and hands. The cool, moist fabric felt wonderful against her skin. Someone had left his canteen by her bedroll, so she took a swig, dampening her dry mouth. The water was warm but welcome. Then she stood up, placed her hands on her lower back as she gingerly stretched. Her spine cracked. An itch started on her ribs as the tight muscles pulled and relaxed. Dey scratched it absently with one hand as the other felt around the back of her neck for the claw she kept on a chain. Every time she slept the thing worked its way to the back, the small weight uncomfortable. Even that faint pressure felt wrong on her windpipe.

An appreciative growl rumbled from Keg's direction. "Just a little more to your right, if you please."

Dey dropped her arms and scowled at him. His dark hair had slipped from its leather thong and now wafted in a silky fall around his shoulders, longer than she'd realized. At the moment he was pretending to leer at her with all the interest of an adolescent boy.

At least she thought he was pretending.

Disgusted, she flipped her messy braid out of her way and pulled on her vest and boots. The leather was still damp with night dew. She appropriated the canteen but left the bedroll. It was only a few hours' walk back to the settlement from here.

She bent to nudge Luna. "Hey, wake up."

Luna moaned something unintelligible and rolled over, pulling the blanket over her head.

Exasperated, Dey shook her harder, gripping her shoulder. "Come on, girl. Get up!"

One green eye cracked open. "Oh, it's you." Her eyes started to drift shut again.

Dey whispered urgently, "Unless you want me to leave you here with Armetris and the goon squad, I suggest you wake up. Now."

That did the trick. Luna's eyes snapped fully open. She wasn't coherent, but she was on her feet and moving within seconds, swaying slightly.

"Don't you want something to eat?" Keg asked as they turned to walk away. He was kneeling by the fire now, checking a skillet that had been left on the coals. Delicious smells wafted from it—roasted fish and something savory. Armetris had sat up and was watching them, dark eyes unreadable. But he made no move to detain anyone. And why should he? He'd already accomplished his goal.

As far as Dey was concerned, they could all wander into a nest of water snakes and get bit. But the mention of food brought her up short. Her stomach rumbled loudly, encouraging peace. Still, she couldn't let him get away with what he'd done without a single word.

Luna took care of that. Turning slowly, moving like her head hurt, she drawled, "Why not? It's the least you owe me for cracking me over the head and stealing my treasure."

"Finders keepers," Armetris countered without remorse, his voice flat. "And I'm sorry about your head. Have something to eat and forgive me."

Even his apology was a command.

Since it served their purpose—and they were both starving—Luna and Dey parked themselves at the fire and gorged on roasted fish stuffed with grain and wild fungi. The fish was perfectly cooked, the skin crispy and the flesh flaky. The grain was seasoned with herbs that made her mouth water. The food was good, but Dey was starved enough not to care if it had been half-raw and under-seasoned. It was always hard for her to eat in the excitement before a raid, and she'd barely nibbled dinner last night. Besides, she had a lot of walking to do today and needed the energy. Slogging through bug-infested bog was hard work, exhausting even for someone in good shape.

Finished, the women wiped their hands on their pants and stood up. Already the sun streaked the horizon with crimson and gold, painting the clouds in shades of fire. It was time to go.

"Great food," Luna said flatly. "Enjoy your spoils. See you."

She was half a dozen steps from camp before anyone could stop her, moving with determination.

Intent upon her goal, she ducked under a tree root, using it for balance as she stepped onto a rotting log that crossed a small stream. The log was slick with moss and damp from the night. She managed three steps before the loose bark shot out from under her feet, sending her crashing down in a spread-eagled sprawl. Her legs barely straddled the spongy wood underneath. "Ouch!" Her feet splashed in the water, wetting her waterproof boots. The cold water seeped in through the laces.

Dey winced and paused with one foot on the log. This didn't seem to be the way to go.

The sympathetic chuckles behind her—low and male and mocking—didn't help Luna's rotten humor. It took a moment, but she made her way to the end, wincing as she slid off the log in a shower of decaying bark. Chunks of it stuck to her pants.

Dey sighed and prepared to follow. This could be a long day.

They hadn't traveled far when large objects crashing through the brush alerted Dey that they were being followed. Branches snapped. Something heavy moved through the undergrowth with no attempt at stealth.

Determined to ignore their escort, Luna kept her face forward as Armetris pulled up beside her on his symbiont hover cycle. The creature made no sound as it flowed through the swamp, but she could see it now—a huge silvery mass that shifted and rippled as it moved. The heated argument that ensued had Dey dropping back, giving them space.

Unfortunately, her action put her abreast of Keg's cycle. His symbiont was equally large, equally silent. Only the slapping of brush betrayed its presence.

Well, that and its obnoxious rider.

Keg hadn't bothered with his shirt. He'd simply tossed his jacket over his bare chest, leaving it open in the front. The morning light played over the muscles of his stomach. "It's a long walk," he said, his voice casual and polite. "I could give you a ride back."

At first Dey didn't reply. She overheard the argument ahead—Luna's voice rising sharp, Armetris's low and implacable—and found herself siding with Luna. Because of her mixed blood, the symbionts refused to respond to her fully. Everyone had a silver cycle, and took for granted the ease of transportation the shape-shifting creatures provided. They required no maintenance. At night the huge creatures hunted and sucked the toxins and impurities that were their sustenance from their prey, keeping themselves fed and functional. Anyone who wanted one could have one on their sixteenth birthday.

At the moment, Dey was equally dependent on inferior transportation. Her own symbiont cycle had disappeared for the season and wouldn't be back until it divided—the symbiont way of reproduction. At times like this it proved an inconvenience, but it was one she could live with.

Besides, walking was good for her. Kept her in shape.

Her train of thought was interrupted as she saw Armetris stop his cycle ahead. Luna mounted behind him, her movements stiff and reluctant. Surprised, Dey stopped and stared as the pair took off, the cycle accelerating smoothly. Luna must have decided that accepting a ride would get her out of his presence faster.

Unfortunately, it left Dey with no choice but to do the same. She frowned at her nemesis, who watched her expectantly. Considering her perpetually dark mood since he'd caught her in the tomb, it was surprising he bothered being polite. Perhaps it was time to grow up. "All right. Thank you," she added grudgingly.

He smiled and her stomach did a little flip, a sensation she tried very hard to ignore.

Maybe there was a good reason to remain prickly. The man could be dangerous given half a chance.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and mounted with one fluid motion. Instead of putting her arms around him, however, she rested them on her thighs, gripping her own knees.

It was much, much safer that way.

Immediately the symbiont cycle extended tendrils—thin silver strands that felt cool and slightly damp—and wrapped them around her feet and calves, webbing her to the bike. The sensation was odd but not unpleasant, like wearing liquid metal.

He glanced over his shoulder, a challenge in his eyes. "Hang on."

No way. This close contact with him was bad enough. His scent filled her nose—leather and male and something else she couldn't identify. Just the thought of putting her arms around him, no matter how innocently, was enough to trip her heart into double time.

Keg was fire and she refused to be burned.

"I'm not a novice; you know how often I ride. It's not like you're going to go that fast through the brush, anyway. Just go," she said irritably.

The bike lurched into motion, so suddenly she knew he'd done it on purpose. It was either grab him or get tossed around by the motion. The cycle moved like a living thing beneath her, responding to Keg's thoughts through his symbiont interface. Nor did he take a safe, sedate pace through the trees. No, Keg sent his request for speed through the connection and the bike leaped forward. They wove between trunks, ducked under low branches. The pace was thrilling, if dangerous, and it was moments before she realized that she was now plastered against his back, her hands flat against his hard stomach.

Horrors!

The speed was wonderful—wind in her face, the world blurring past. But the branch that suddenly whipped her bare arm was not. She flinched, hissing in pain.

He immediately slowed the bike and stopped, the cycle settling beneath them. "I'm sorry." He twisted to look at her, frowning at the angry red welt on her arm. He stripped off his jacket and tried to hand it to her. "Here. It's warm enough already, and you need this more than I do."

Wear something that still bore his warmth, his scent? Eyes carefully averted from his athletic, naked torso—all that smooth skin and defined muscle—she tried to refuse. "I don't need it."

"Take it." He extended it impatiently, shaking it at her.

She shoved it back. "I don't want it!"

"Lover's quarrel?" Razzi drawled. He had pulled up beside them on his own cycle and was watching them with obvious amusement. He'd tied a blue bandana over his hair and was eyeing them with a knowing expression that made Dey's cheeks heat. "Or maybe she's just wishing you would take a bath. I wouldn't want to snuggle with a sweaty biker like you, either.”

There was a brief, unspoken conversation as the men locked eyes. He lost his amusement and gave Keg a warning stare. "Don’t be a jerk, Keg. Throw a shirt on."

Keg’s eyes narrowed and he reached in his saddlebags for a shirt. He glanced at Dey and his expression softened. "My apologies. I made you uncomfortable."

Dey blushed and snatched the jacket out of Keg's hand. This discussion could only go downhill from here.

Just as she'd feared, the silky lining of the jacket caressed the bare skin of her arms, cocooned her in his warmth. It was horrible, almost as bad as snuggling. "Can we go now?"

"Of course," Keg said, politely waiting for her to get on. Then he roared off, the cycle responding instantly to his command.

Certain this ride would be the death of her, Dey gripped his waist and held on as he guided the bike through the swamp.