Book two in The Borders War series
A relationship is the least of Merq’s and Armise’s concerns…
With one bullet Merq Grayson set the wealthiest citizens of the world on a collision course with the poorest—those fighting for their freedom. As the Borders War reignites, the Revolution faces heavy losses. They scramble to maintain their advantage, to strike at the Opposition and crumble their power structure before they are able to rally.
But Merq is in the midst of an internal battle that shakes him to the core. For the first time in his life Merq will have to reconcile the inherent tragedy of war and decide just how much vengeance can be justified by spilt blood. How much can he trust the men and women around him? The president, Neveed, his former soldiers, his parents…and Armise.
Merq and Armise find themselves off grid and on the hunt for Committee members. Merq is just as unsettled with Armise at his side as he was with Armise as an enemy, but they will have to learn how to fight together—or they just might die together.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of violence.
Publisher's Note: This book has previously been released under the same title. It has been revised and re-edited for re-release with Pride Publishing.
General Release Date: 5th January 2016
August 2558
Merq Grayson’s 34th year
The Continental States
Pain. Blinding, searing, blood-vaporizing pain.
No matter how many times I went through a transport, the effect was always the same. Debilitating.
My body seized up, spasmed, and I felt the moment my particles scattered. A vast emptiness fell upon me, one that I’d come to associate with agony, even though that exact moment was the most peaceful of the transition.
But what came next caught me unaware. Every. Single. Time.
The world—my existence—flashed out of being then slammed back. A coalescing of atoms and cells, blood thrumming, heart pumping. I sucked in a desperate breath that burned, my lungs fighting the sudden inhalation. I reached out for something—someone?—gritted my teeth and found my awareness. Remembered.
My shot. The premiere. The bunker.
Armise.
“Fuck,” a labored voice behind me groaned. An arm gripped me tighter, drawing my twitching body into an iron embrace.
Too close. Too much. This—this intimacy—wasn’t what happened after a kill.
I let my head fall to the cool, smooth floor and tried to calm my racing heartbeat and spasming muscles as I yanked the hand off my stomach.
Armise let go of me without protest. I rolled away from him then to my feet, hesitating for only a fraction of a second as I stood. The nerves in my legs tingled. A rush of that potent drug surge thrummed through my veins—only remnants now, but enough to dull the pain of transport.
“Great shot.” A woman’s voice came from the other side of the room.
I shielded my eyes from the glare of the white ceramic floor and took in the petite frame of the woman leaning against the wall, her black skin in sharp contrast to the sterile silver metal walls.
I grunted in response to Jegs and looked down at Armise.
He was on his back on the transport floor, eyes closed, the sinew of his neck and veins popping out with the effort it was taking for him to get the pain under control.
“I thought you only traveled via transport,” I said with disbelief and just a hint of a taunt.
Armise’s eyes snapped open, caught me in a clear, challenging glare. “Your transport technology is obviously inferior to Singapore’s. No wonder you rarely travel this way. How do we know that each time we transport it’s not slowly killing us?”
“We don’t,” Jegs answered for me as she tipped her head in Armise’s direction. “So. You’re a traitor.”
Armise sat up, threw an arm over his knees and scratched at his beard. “I suppose so,” he answered without flinching. “I am guessing from the slashes that you are Jegs. You weren’t exactly conscious the first time we met.”
Jegs narrowed her eyes and didn’t answer him. From the brief blankness that overtook her eyes, I guessed she was trying to access the memory of her captivity in Singapore. Trying to decide if Armise was the one who’d nearly killed her.
“He wasn’t the one who tortured you in Singapore,” I reassured her.
She didn’t take her focus off Armise. “You sure about that?”
I shrugged. “Relatively. Where’s the president?”
She pushed off the wall and started to the door. “Should be here. He was set to transport in with the newly promoted General Neveed Niaz right after your shot. Simion is on that detail.”
“Just how many transport rooms do you have?” Armise asked as he stood.
“Enough—”
“Four—”
Jegs and I answered at the same time.
I pointed at her. “This ends here.”
She gave a clipped nod, restrained anger evident in her pursed lips and the flat black of her eyes.
“Order received.” She approached me and held out her hand, two capsules of surge resting on her palm. “For the external damage this one did to you in the tunnels.”
I took the capsules, downed one and threw the other to Armise. Immediately I felt the press of my swollen left eye easing and my injured shoulder loosening.
Above our heads a high-pitched whine gained in volume, followed closely by a screeching explosion and the muted patter of debris drumming to the ground feet above us on the surface streets of the capital. The ground beneath my feet shook, dirt scattering from the packed earth ceiling.
“What’s that sound?” I said, my voice breaking from my inability to draw in a full breath.
Jegs cocked her head as if she wasn’t sure what I was referring to, even as the room continued to reverberate around us. Another thundering boom came from above and the transport platform shook.
She pointed up, a wicked grin exposing her teeth. “Those, Colonel, are artillery shells. Welcome to the Revolution.”
I sleep little, read a lot. Happiest in a foreign country. Twitchy when not mentally in motion. My name is Sam, not Sammy, definitely not Samantha. I’m a pretty dark/cynical/jaded person, but I hide that darkness well behind my obsession(s) for shiny objects. I’m the macabre wrapped in irresistible bubble wrap and a glittery pink bow, I suppose.
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