He and the other seven conquerors who crash-landed here so long ago should have been kings among the lesser, human life-forms that inhabited this planet. They might have been kings, if not for the uprising of their half-human sons. If not for the war that had left only him, his survival dependent on the treachery of the son who had secreted him away in a mountain cave.
He shouldn't have been surprised that treachery awaited him once he'd been awakened. After his period of hibernation, he had expected the world to be different, laid out like a bounty for him to feast upon. Instead he'd been shackled and starved, weakened by chemicals and technology he'd imagined would have been far out of the grasp of the crude humanity that existed when he last knew it. Earth had advanced. It was nothing remotely close to the world he had left behind, but enough so that life here for him would forever be a trial. An endless monotony of days and nights, pursuit and retreat. He wasn't sure he had the will or the desire.
The woman lying before him was caught in a similar snare. He had witnessed her despair, and he had tasted her defeat in each pulse of her heartbeat as he had taken his nourishment from her. He tasted her loneliness, her hopelessness, and it plucked at something deep inside him.
She, too, was a warrior. He saw it in the few, scattered images in frames within her domicile. This woman in a human warrior's uniform, carrying weapons and a look of determination in her eyes. That look was not gone, even when she'd been weakened from blood loss and terrified. She was still strong, still a warrior in her heart, but she no longer saw it in herself.
She, too, was lost ... alone.
But where she had been prepared to give up in those moments before he intruded on her plans, his advanced genetic makeup would permit no such surrender. He was born a conqueror, born for war. He was the ultimate predator. Whether he desired it or not, his body would resist death to its final gasp ... no matter how long it took to get there.
And he was also driven to see his enemies defeated, by whatever means required. It was that drive that compelled him to take the measure he had a few moments ago with this woman lying unconscious, and wholly unaware, on the floor of the cabin.
Now he moved back from her in grim consideration. Idly, he brought his left forearm up to his mouth and sealed the small cut he'd made there. His tongue swept over the faint indentation in the muscle beneath his skin as the wound closed up and vanished, as if the incision were never there. As he got up and stalked to the other side of the room, he heard the approaching roar of gas-powered engines not far from the cabin.
Had they found him so soon?
Whether his pursuers were human or Breed, he couldn't be sure.
But as he tested the newly regenerated sinew and skin of his arms, he smiled grimly, satisfied that he was prepared to meet any incoming threat.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Alex flew as fast as she dared through the snow and wilderness on the way to Jenna's cabin. She could still hear Zach behind her, gaining on her. Cutting a hazardous path back and forth, praying she might lose him in the nearly blinding storm, she hoped that the gun he'd pulled on her in town had just been a momentary lapse of good sense on his part.
But she'd seen the dangerous gleam in his gaze. He was furious, and he was desperate to protect his secret. Probably most of all from Jenna. But would he be desperate enough to kill Alex in the process?
secret. Probably most of all from Jenna. But would he be desperate enough to kill Alex in the process?
The knot of dread that was lodged in her throat said he would.
Alex's heart was beating like it wanted to leap out of her rib cage by the time she reached Jenna's property. She skidded into an abrupt halt and killed the engine. Luna jumped off with her and the pair of them started running for the cabin's front porch.
"Jenna!" she called. "Jenna, it's me!"
Almost to the steps, Alex heard Zach's snowmachine grind to a halt behind her. "Don't take another step, Alex."
Oh, God.
"Jenna!" she cried. "Are you there?"
There was no answer. No movement of any kind came from inside the cabin. Behind her, the soft click of the pistol's hammer.
"Goddamn you, Alex." Zach's voice sounded wooden, utterly devoid of emotion. "Why are you making me do this?"
"Jenna," she called again, quieter now, realizing the futility of it. The cabin was silent. Jenna either would not, or could not, hear her. What if her earlier dread for Jenna's wellbeing was accurate? Alex hardly dared imagine it.
Nor would she even have the chance, because Zach was apparently out of his mind and Alex was likely about to die here and now.
Then, from within the stillness ahead of her, Alex heard the faintest sound--a small moan, barely audible even as close as she was to the door. Alex's heart gave a hopeful stutter.
"Jenna?" She braved the smallest step forward, one foot on the bottom step of the porch. "If you can hear me, please open--"
The gunshot rang out like a cannon blast behind her. Alex felt the heated whisper of the bullet as it sang past her head and lodged into the wooden doorjamb not even three feet in front of her. Oh, Jesus. Oh, holy Christ.
Zach had shot at her.
Alex's body froze with shock and a fear so deep and cold it left her shaking all over. She exhaled a shuddering breath and slowly pivoted her head, not about to let Zach shoot her in the back. If he was going to do it, then, by God, he was going to do it looking her in the eyes.