When duty sparks passion, things get dangerous fast. Book 3 in the Spark Series—sci-fi romance with tension, heat, and scandal in space.

Slow burn. 

Azor agreed to take Brandy off-planet to avoid a scandal, never expecting they'd ignite a white-hot passion. Sassy, sexy Brandy makes him burn. If hostile aliens don't kill him, his companion just might. 

Hunted by a shapeshifting assassin and racing against an infection that's killing her, can he reach her distant family before time runs out?

Readers are saying:

“Out of this world!”
Well written page turner!”
“The story flowed so easily I could not put it down. Another great book by Autumn Dawn!“
“Having already read the stories of her sisters I knew this would be a good book. I couldn't put the book down till I finished it in one sitting! Thank you, Autumn Dawn.”
“The world-building for the series is dense and consistent with a strong plot that kept me going.”
“I LOVED THIS STORY! I couldn't put this book down. Will definitely be getting more books by this author."

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CHAPTER 1

Fog curled and rolled off her windshield as Brandy slowly drove her transport home. The buildings and alleys gleamed slick and black, a gift of the drenching fog. At this hour, the streets were virtually deserted.

She was tired and the old breaks in her bones ached. Though they’d healed years ago, they hurt when the barometer dropped, made her grouchy. She wanted nothing more than a warm bed and eight hours of blessed sleep.

She’d concluded her business with the vintner around one in the morning and absent- mindedly turned down this back road. While perfectly acceptable in daylight, this shortcut had been a bad choice at this time of night. Close to the slums, it had been the sight of more than one mugging.

Unfortunately she didn’t register her location until it was too late to retreat. Committed, she kept her doors locked and eyes open. In ten minutes she’d be home.

She mentally grumbled at the merchant who’d kept her out. Vio Srie’s expensive wines had won numerous awards, which she coveted for her family’s inn, and he was particular with whom he dealt with. She’d been obliged to attend a dinner party at his home before she’d been deemed worthy. Both he and his wife were wealthy and enjoyed showing off their fine home and the talents of their exuberant chef. They also loved to talk, so much so that Brandy hadn’t been forced to contribute much to the conversation. Though she’d been thoroughly bored, it was a small price to pay for the contract she’d finally wrung out of the man. The Spark, her family’s inn, would now carry the exclusive wines. It was just one more step in catering to a clientele that had grown increasingly select.

Sometimes she missed the days when it had been nothing more than a rough and ready tavern. She wondered what her father would have thought of the changes. A hard working immigrant, she couldn’t picture him serving wine out of crystal glasses to pampered guests, but he’d never shied from success. Perhaps he would have adapted.

Her thoughts distracted her, and she didn’t see the man leap out of the shadows until it was too late. She slammed on her brakes, but the transport hit his legs, hard. The impact threw him up on the windshield in a broken sprawl. Her abrupt stop caused him to roll down off her hood and onto the payment, where he lay, unmoving.

She stared at the body in horror. Was he dead? Would she get a ticket for this?

She had one foot out the door when he stirred. She hesitated. So he wasn’t dead. Was he dangerous? They weren’t in the best part of town, and he had been running. She listened, but couldn’t hear any sirens. Whatever had chased him, it wasn’t the cops.

In the few seconds it took her to calculate her odds of calling the paramedics and backing out of there, he managed to get to his knees. That was done slowly enough that she felt pretty safe. Just to be sure, she called from the safety of her vehicle, “Hey, are you okay? Alive, I mean? Should I call someone?” She knew her first questions were stupid, but she was a little rattled. At least the last query had shown some sense.

The man got to his feet with a speed that astonished her, then lunged for her door. Brandy barely had time to squeak before he pushed her over to the passenger seat. “Get over! I’m driving.”

She was surprised, but not stupid. Ordinarily, she would have kept scooting and jumped out the passenger side door before he could grab her. It was his hair that stopped her. As she watched, it shifted from blond to emerald green. The widow’s peak filled in, thickened, and the winged brows disappeared, replaced by angry green slashes. The brows lowered as he shot her a glare. With a start, she recognized him. “Azor?”

He gave her a dark look and abruptly accelerated. A surprised huff escaped her as she was shoved back in the seat by the speed. “Are you crazy?” she demanded as she fumbled with her seat belt. “How hard did you hit your head?” She glanced in the rear display and froze. The screen showed five men and a woman racing out of the alley behind them. They skidded to a halt and stared after the transport. Harsh streetlights lit them from behind, making their features hard to make out, but she could see the outline of clubs and knives. “Who are those guys?”

“No one you need to know.” Azor glanced at the display, then kept his eyes on the road. It was a good thing, since he drove like a maniac. At this speed they’d either become wet splats on a wall or be arrested for reckless driving.

Then again, maybe he could talk his way out of it. After all, he was a cop.

Brandy scrutinized him and added up the clues. His long green hair was loose, and he smelled like smoke. With his dark green leather jacket and thigh hugging pants, he was definitely out of uniform. Curiously, the old knife wound on his face was missing. She’d have thought it would have added to the image he was after, but maybe it was too easily identified. Normally, he was missing the tip of one ear as well, but it was well and whole tonight. His earring was gone, though. She’d never seen him without it. Had she caught him in the middle of shift? Maybe tapping him had jolted his concentration.

Usually the sight of his grim face made her grumpy; after all, it came with bad memories. Tonight it made her nervous. There was a dangerous air around him, compounded by the fact that he drove like a player in a video game, with no regard for their lives.

That wasn't her biggest grudge, though. The man was dangerously hot, and she resented the way he made her feel. She didn't even like him, and thanks to him, she loathed cops in general. None of that seemed to keep her from sneaking looks when he wasn't looking. It drove her crazy that she couldn’t control her juvenile, unmanageable attraction to him, so for spite she adopted a waspish attitude toward him. Was there anything worse than a man a girl disliked knowing that he was desired? No sense giving him more of an advantage than he already had.

Her attitude seemed to be the last thing on his mind at that moment. Tall like most Kiuyians, his long legs were crammed against the dash since he hadn’t taken the time to adjust the seat. Cursing under his breath, he reached down and thumbed the tab to give him more room.

She might have heard something about short women in his muttering. Taking the offensive out of principal, she snapped, “Sorry. Next time maybe you ought to wait for a leggy dancer before you steal a woman’s car. Someone with clients and big hair.” Her own red hair was straight and fell to her chin in a chic pageboy, and her height was nothing to brag about. She wasn’t that short, though. It was just his extreme height that made her look like a doll.

“But I guess theft goes well with your disguise. You are playing some kind of thug, aren’t you?”

The “thug” gave her the side eye. His eyes were the same dark emerald as his hair. “It’s nothing you need to know about.”

So he wanted to keep a low profile, did he? How it must annoy him for someone who knew him to blow his cover. She smiled, beginning to enjoy herself. “I wonder what you’re worth to your friends back there?”

“It’s not smart to blackmail a cop.” He spoke in the deep, rasping tones of someone who spent his days inhaling hellfire. “Besides, my cover’s already been blown.”

“Hence the posse. What a shame.” She looked out the window and noticed they weren’t headed back to the inn. “I realize you have a few things on your mind, but you do know I live in the other direction, right?” Of course he did. He’d been to The Spark many times.

“We’re making this look like a car jacking, just in case. I’ll drop you off where you can hail a cab.”

She looked at him incredulously. “And what do you intend to do with it then?”

“I’ll arrange to have it impounded. You can collect it tomorrow.” He pulled up next to an all night diner. “Out.”

She was speechless with indignation for about four seconds. “I thought you were supposed to be one of the good guys! You can’t just drop me off in the middle of nowhere without even cab fare.”

He reached into his pocket and handed her a couple of coins. “That gentlemanly enough for you? Saints know you don’t need it.” They both knew The Spark did very well.

“That’s not the point,” she growled, but didn’t give back the money. Perversely, she hoped she’d just emptied his pockets.

Since she wasn’t moving, he crowded close. “Get out, Brandy.” His voice had gone arctic. There would be no argument.

She knew she couldn’t fight him, but she did offer a parting shot. “I hope you get hemorrhoids!” She slid out of the transport, but didn’t slam the door. She wanted it to remain pristine. That way if he scratched it, she could sue him for every half-cent of his pitiful cop salary.

Just to be sure he got the message, she turned and gave him a warning look.

He stared at her, then smiled wickedly. Just to provoke her, he squealed the tires and shot off, leaving her steaming in his wake.

Brandy stared after him, her stomach doing a slow burn. What she would give to have him arrested! As the idea came to her, she smiled intently. Pulling her com from her pocket, she dialed the police. “Hi! I’d like to report a stolen vehicle.”

If the dispatcher wondered at her cheerful tone, he never said a word.

Azor saw police lights in his rear view screen and had to smile. He should have expected it. He pulled over at the side of the road near the spaceport and rolled down his window. Even at this hour, ships roared overhead, delivering cargo, ferrying passengers. He could feel the breeze generated by the thrusters as they eased to the landing pads.

The arresting officer, a young black reptilian with golden eyes, was startled to see him. “Detective! What are you doing here?” He lisped slightly, due to his forked tongue.

“Working. You’re just in time to give me a ride back to the station. While you’re at it, arrange a tow for this transport. I want it impounded.”

“Yes, sir!” The young officer didn’t bother with further questions. Not only did the detective outrank him, he was going back to the station anyway. The chief would handle any lingering questions there.

Azor waited until he got to the station to call her. The least he could do was ensure she’d gotten home all right.

As he’d expected, a sleepy voice picked up on the other end. She didn’t bother with a greeting. “Xera, if this is you, your timing sucks! I know it’s long distance, but you have a talent for waking me up.”

Long distance didn’t quite cover it. Xera lived on the Scorpio home world, Rsik, and it was an eight-month journey to get there, even on the fastest starship. She had to pin beam her messages through a wormhole, then use relays to bounce it to her sisters. It was expensive, but fortunately she was married to a man who could afford it. One would think Brandy would be delighted to hear from her, no matter the time.

He smiled. He’d bet her sister woke her up on purpose, too. “It’s not Xera.”

There was a long pause. “What do you want?” She sounded uncommonly surly, but it was the wee hours of the morning, and they hadn’t parted on the best of terms.

“Just wanted to make sure you got home okay.” He listened to the stony silence, then added, “I’m pretty sure a little buffing will remove the scratches.”

“I’ll remove your head if there’s so much as a squashed bug on the windshield.” She didn’t sound as angry as he’d have expected. Perhaps she trusted him a little after all.

His protective instincts forced him to lecture her. Really, he couldn’t resist. “You shouldn’t go down streets like that at night.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time,” she said with satisfaction. “In fact, I’d say you owed me one. Two, in fact. Stealing my car definitely counts as a big deal. By the way, did the cops ever catch up to you?”

He could almost see her evil grin. He smiled to himself, unwilling to ruin her fun. He adopted a stern tone. “We’ll settle that later.”

She yawned. “Later, then. We’ll discuss the terms of your indentured service.”

He could imagine how her mismatched eyes would look. One brown, one blue, they’d be heavy with sleep. Her hair was probably mussed, the way it was when she roughhoused with her nephews. The image made his voice huskier than he expected. “In your dreams, Red.”

“Auburn. My hair is practically brown.”

He shook his head. It was a deep, glossy red that would never be mistaken for anything but. She was dreaming…or would be if he’d let her sleep. “Whatever. Sweet dreams, Trouble.” He hung up to the sound of her muttering.

He had years of practice at sparing with the girl. He frequently visited his friend Blue at The Spark. The ex-cop was married to Brandy’s sister, so it wasn’t unusual for him to see Brandy. He’d been the guest at several family functions, much to her frustration. She still held a grudge against him for his part in her arrest.

Technically she’d been too battered to arrest at the time, but he’d been a part of the investigation into drug running at The Spark. Oddly, she’d forgiven Blue for his part, but then he was her brother-in-law and family now. If she didn’t want a war with her sister she didn’t have a choice. Azor she could safely hate.

Oddly, he’d come to enjoy her attempts to verbally stab him. He had ten years on her, and at twenty-six, she hadn’t come close to piercing his tough scales. She, on the other hand, was so easily scored. A tender heart hid under her prickly exterior. It made him careful with his barbs.

He set down the com and looked down at his desk. With a sigh, he settled down to work. He had a report to write.

The new drug that had started to show up on the street troubled him. It was being sold as a sedative, occasionally used for date rape. All that was nothing new, but this drug, Euphoria, had unexpected side effects. Occasionally, it caused hallucinations and mental breakdowns that were often irreversible. In Kiuyians, it also caused uncontrollable mutations, changes that would come and go on a whim, sometimes leaving the victim warped and damaged. Just last night they’d found a man whose eyes had tripled in size, bulging out of his sockets like grotesque balloons. His joints had similarly swollen, some of them so large that the skin had split.

It had not been one of his better nights.

The medics had managed to save the man’s life. Once the drugs had worn off, he’d also been able to resume his former shape. One could only hope he’d walk away from the experience a little wiser.

Hopefully, word would spread on the street for shifters to avoid Euphoria. For those inclined to abuse narcotics, there were safer drugs.

In a third, select group, the drug was said to give visions of the future that often came true. At least, that was the sales pitch that kept the drug on the bestseller list.

Azor didn’t know if that report was even true, but the rumors, combined with its ability to induce bliss in most users, meant the drug wasn’t going anywhere soon.

He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the screen. He’d never understood why some people were willing to take such risks with their bodies. He just hoped that no one he knew experimented with the drug. The results could be disastrous.

Brandy disliked narcotics of any kind. She didn’t entirely trust them. However, her bones were aching with the shift in the weather and the tension headache that resulted was keeping her awake. Even so, she’d been drifting off when Azor had called. It was another black mark on his slate tonight.

She rolled over in annoyance and stared at her darkened bedroom door. She contemplated getting out of bed and digging through the pharmacy in her medicine cupboard. She was tired enough that she didn’t want to move that far.

She thought of the little packet of pills her host, Vio Srie, had given her at his party. He’d noticed she was looking pained and fetched them for her. She’d thanked him and stuffed them in her pocket at the time, promising to take them if the pain got worse.

It was worse. Grunting, she leaned down and snagged her pants from the floor. She tore open the packet in the dark and dry swallowed the two tiny pills. Closing her eyes, she lay back and waited for them to kick in. Thankfully, it didn’t take long. In minutes the pain faded, replaced by a feeling of blissful well-being. Stretching out on her side, she settled into her nest of pillows and finally got some sleep.

Her dreams were odd, sharp on some details, while others seemed out of focus. They also flickered between brief glimpses of scenes, as if she were flipping through channels. She caught a teasing slice of an unknown man with green hair and a woman. The leg she had wrapped around his was clad in a tall black boot with glowing blue glyphs. The boots were the only thing sharp and clear.

Before she could comprehend any details, it switched to a scene of combat. She saw Xera’s face, and oddly, that of her children as they huddled behind her. She saw herself there, wielding two short clubs. The detail zeroed in, and she saw that they were weighted fighting sticks, exactly like two she now owned. She was the one battling an oddly shifting foe.

The scenes began to shift faster, blurring together too swiftly to make any sense. She became nauseated. Her eyes fluttered open, but she couldn’t keep them there. The sleep sucked her down and down, forcing her to fight her way out. There was a pressure in her head, like a balloon expanding too quickly inside her skull. Suddenly it popped.

Gasping, she sat up and stared around, unable to orient herself.

Slowly the details of the room came into focus. The sun was rising, slanting through the window with unusual intensity, turning the dust motes in the air to glittering diamonds. Gradually its brilliance faded, becoming an ordinary kind of sunlight, the kind that fell on her toes, gently warming them through the covers. Her heartbeat slowed. It had only been a dream.

Shuddering, she flipped back the covers. She wouldn’t linger in her bed, a prisoner of dreams.

Getting out of bed was always interesting. She never knew if the mangled bones of her feet would act up, whether her first steps of the day would be merely stiff or agony. Today was a good day. Despite its horrible side effects—for the weird dreams must have been a byproduct of the medicine—the pain was tolerable. It wasn’t enticement enough to make her seek out more, though. She had powerful pain meds that could do just as well.

Feeling almost mellow, she headed for the bathroom, bad dreams forgotten. She had a cop to visit, things to do. She flipped on the light and glanced in the mirror...and screamed. A green skinned hag with staring red eyes and exploded white hair leered at her from the glass.

The dreams were not over.

Vio Srie sat in his leather office chair and toyed with an excellent glass of wine. He was sated and content after a very successful evening. He’d bedded a pretty young dancer, handed out his share of experimental drugs and finished the night off by enjoying his wife. Life didn’t get better than this.

It was a shame to return to business. He glanced at a letter he’d been handed with a slight frown. His expenses were up, but the doctor who’d promised him money to “administer” his drugs to the unwary was attempting to be cheap. Vio didn’t like cheap. It was bad business, and he wanted his money. The extra income allowed him to keep his wife in rare style. He liked to spoil her, beautiful creature.

He sighed and penned a short, pointed note. The doctor would pay what he’d promised, or his unwitting subjects would begin to disappear. It wasn’t just about the money; it was about saving face.

Doctors annoyed him, and this one wasn’t important, other than as a source of income. Due to the dangerous nature of his drug, he’d been denied permission to attempt human trials, so he’d sent it out on the streets disguised as a recreational drug. Occasionally, he slipped it to targeted individuals, people who matched the genetic profile he’d found to be receptive to its effects. He had delusions of grandeur, that one. He thought that history would vindicate him as a man who’d given human evolution its next great boost. He was a fool.

Vio snorted as he sealed his message to the good doctor. It mentioned no names, no specifics, but was pointed enough that the doctor would understand the threat. Vio was confident that he would get his money.