Lost in Barbarian Space (3 page)

And she was deadly.

Colm tensed, his hand itching to reach for his sword. He was a warrior, and even without his nanami buzzing at him, he sensed danger.

“Be nice,” he heard Phoenix murmur to the woman.

She didn’t respond.

Another woman stepped forward. Colm turned his attention to her and his eyes narrowed.

She looked almost as deadly as the first, even though they were a complete contrast. She wore a black-and-gray uniform, and stood with a straight spine. Where the first woman was lean, this woman’s uniform was filled with toned curves. Colm let himself look. Markarian women were leaner and muscular, so he found the curves…intriguing.

Not that this woman was soft. Far from it. She was younger than the other, and the way she held herself—she kept her feet spread, her balance even—he could tell she was ready to react. She had laser pistols holstered at her hips, and some strange black cylinder dangled from her belt.

Her hair…he sucked in another breath. It looked like sunlight and gold. It was pulled back tightly in a long tail that swayed behind her. Her skin was a golden color, and her face was alert and serious—she didn’t think she was here to enjoy herself.

Her gaze lifted and met his. Colm held it. Her eyes were a fascinating pale green.

He saw her nostrils flare, like she was scenting the air…scenting him. He suppressed a frown. She couldn’t have nanami like Markarians, so was she…enhanced in some other way?

It was a little mystery Colm intended to solve.

“Ho-
ly
cow.” The piping voice broke the silence. A young girl pushed forward and did a graceful twirl. “This place is rocking. Almost like a castle.” A gusty sigh. “I always wanted to live in a castle.”

Colm’s eyes widened. This girl was in her late teens, and her hair was a shocking shade of pink. Like the flower of a wenga vine.

The girl’s bold gaze landed on Colm, taking in his chest and form in a way that made him damned uncomfortable.

“Holy muscles.” She peered at him more closely. “Big guy, your muscles have muscles.”

Phoenix cleared his throat. “Lala…it’s polite to greet people before you start commenting on their appearance.” He shook his head. “Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t comment on anyone’s appearance.”

The pink-haired girl shrugged and pulled something from her top pocket. She popped it in her mouth and started chewing. “You got it, Nik. My lips are sealed.”

A look crossed the man’s face and it told Colm the man wasn’t buying the girl’s assurances.

Kavon moved forward and all gazes moved to him.

“I am Kavon Mal Dor. Welcome to Markaria.” He put his arm around Aurina and tugged her to his side.

Colm watched the woman press into her warrior’s side. Love, security, acceptance.

He’d never seen a connection like theirs growing up. All he could remember was his father’s shouts and fists and his mother’s screams and sobs.

He looked away from Kavon and Aurina and noticed the golden-haired woman watching him with a curious frown.

Looked like she didn’t miss much. Colm would have to remember that.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Warlord Mal Dor. I’m Niklas Phoenix, Director of Acquisitions for the Institute of Historical Preservation.” The man came forward to shake hands. “My cousins have…had a lot to say.”

Kavon’s teeth flashed. “Aurina’s brothers are not particularly thrilled she mated me and stayed on Markaria.”

Niklas smiled. “That would be putting it mildly.”

Aurina sniffed. “My brothers are…overprotective.” She raised a brow at her mate. “Unfortunately, my husband is as well.”

“They love you,” Niklas said. “We are extremely excited to be here. We’ve been studying the information and images that Aurina sent through regarding the discovery of the ship of the Earth explorers. The First Warriors. Fascinating stuff. And—” the man’s blue eyes gleamed “—we’ve found some extra information that should prove very interesting for you, Warlord Mal Dor.”

“Call me Kavon.” When Aurina elbowed him, he glanced at her, then back at Nik. “Please.”

The astro-archeologist smiled. “Kavon. But before we go any further, let me introduce my team.” He lifted a hand at the tall woman by his side. “This is my partner, Nera.”

The woman didn’t say a word, just gave a slow nod.

Colm’s instincts still itched. He would not turn his back on this one.

“Seriously, you guys don’t want to mess with Nera.” The pink-haired one called Lala blew a huge bubble that snapped with a loud
pop
. “She might not be as big as you guys, but she’ll make Tanari hash out of you with her sword quicker than you can say—”

“Lala,” Nik said with exaggerated patience.

“Sorry.” The girl’s smile said she was nothing of the sort. “Nera is badass, especially if anyone tries to hurt Nik.”

Nera looked at Lala.

The girl’s mouth snapped shut. “Right. Quiet now.” She made a zipping motion across her lips. Then she leaned toward Colm, a conspiratorial look on her face. “I think I just wet myself a little bit.”

“This is Lala,” Nik said. “She’s a student assistant on this trip. It’s a part of her studies.”

The girl nodded. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to specialize in yet. Explosives, weapons creation, astro-archeology, cooking…I’m keeping my options open.”

Nik rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and even the woman, Nera, looked like a faint smile was threatening.

“And this is Agent Honor Brandall.” Nik swept his hand at the other woman.

The blonde stepped forward.

“She’s Nera’s second-in-command on the security team on our ship the
Magellan
.”

Kavon nodded. “I would like to introduce my second, and your guide for your expedition on Markaria. Colm Mal Kor.”

Colm let his gaze touch on all of them, lingering on the blonde. Her gaze was direct. “Kavon has informed me we are going to welcome you in the Markarian way.”

“And what way is that?” Agent Brandall asked. She had a smoky voice that Colm liked.

“Swords, ale and food.” He locked his gaze with hers. “Do you like fighting, Agent Brandall?”

She shot him a smile laced with challenge. “I just happen to love it, Warrior Mal Kor.”

***

Honor stood with her hands behind her back and listened to the clash of metal on metal.

Sunlight glinted off the swords swinging in the open-air arena. Many locals were seated on the long rows of stone benches, watching the impressive display.

She wasn’t sure if they were there for the sweat-slicked flex of hard muscles, or the exceptional sword-fighting.

Honor was watching the sword-fighting moves. For big men, the Markarian warriors moved surprisingly well. She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d heard all about the nanami their bodies were infused with. She had a report about the microscopic organisms on her Sync, and apart from knowing they improved the Markarians’ speed, strength and reflexes, she didn’t know much else. Honor hated having a gap in her intel.

She saw a warrior block the swing of another. The two men strained against each other.

She didn’t use a sword. Nera did, but her boss’ blade was nothing like the huge swords the barbarians had. Honor had to admit, the weapons were gorgeous—long, straight blades with decorative points near the hilts that could easily cause injury to an inexperienced user.

Honor preferred her pistols, and for hand-to-hand combat, her stun-staff. It might not have the elegant beauty of a blade, but in her hands it was just as deadly.

Her gaze drifted to the large warrior in the center of the group. Mal Kor.

He was an inch or so taller than most of the others. He swung his sword with power and control, his long, black hair brushing his broad shoulders.

The warrior could move. She memorized his moves, where he placed his feet, how he held his sword. Still, she was honest enough to admit it was damned hard to keep her eyes on the fighting when her gaze kept straying down to the flex of his muscles. Why couldn’t these guys wear shirts?

Most of the men she worked with were far smaller than these warriors. Instantly, her thoughts turned to her last lover. She fought back a grimace. On her last posting, she’d made the terrible mistake of getting involved with an engineer on her ship. Jon had said he found her strength refreshing. What he’d meant was he’d been up for something different…for a little while. Then he’d started with the little digs: “Why don’t you dress up more, Honor?” “Why don’t you take a break from training?” “Why can’t you put me first?” When she’d caught him getting a blow job from a nurse from the medbay, Honor had been done.

She’d sworn off men, especially men she worked with, for the foreseeable future.

“How would you take one of these warriors down?” a cool voice asked.

Honor turned her head and saw Nera had moved up beside her. And Honor hadn’t heard or sensed a thing.
Damn
. She was learning so much from Nera Darc, but she had yet to master the level of stealth that Nera had.

She turned her attention back to the warriors, back to Colm. She watched him slam his sword against his opponent, driving the man back. “Well, they’re strong, and with these nanami, they’re also fast.” She watched Colm spin, raising his sword above his head. Wow. “Um, they like to get in close. Laser pistol from a distance would be a definite advantage.”

Nera nodded. “I would suggest you never let a warrior in close. In hand to hand, he’ll take you.”

Honor nodded. “If I did end up too close, I’d need to use the longest setting on my staff to keep some range.” She fingered the small, innocuous cylinder on her belt that extended out with the flick of a wrist. “And I’m guessing the highest stun setting.” She looked at her boss. “These nanami sound interesting. How much do we know about them? Just how much increased strength and stamina do they give the Markarians?”

Nera’s multi-colored eyes flashed. “We don’t know enough. They are keeping pretty tight-lipped on the subject. Whatever information we gather while we’re here will help us flesh that out. I do know they have two hearts, and multiple copies of other main organs.”

Honor nodded. Yes, Nera didn’t like being in the dark, either. Mostly because Nera didn’t like Niklas to be in danger. Ever.

“They always have the advantage, Brandall, don’t forget that.”

Honor snapped out of her musings. “Yes, ma’am.”

Nera’s eyes narrowed. “What have I told you?”

“Yes, Nera.”

“Better.”

Honor turned back to the fighting. She eyed one of the swords and wondered how heavy they were. She was Predian, and her species were built to hunt. They were naturally stronger, with enhanced senses. She was pretty sure she could lift one of the swords.

She saw two young warriors moving in a complicated dance, both of them grinning. These barbarians sure liked to fight. She watched their footwork, memorizing the moves.

“Would you like to try?”

The deep voice rumbled over her and Honor turned.

Colm Mal Kor stood in front of her.

Sweat glistened on his bare chest, and his dark leather trousers clung to powerful legs. He wore engraved leather gauntlets on his forearms. She looked up, tilting her head back. He was a lot taller than her… Her heart tripped. She wasn’t used to that.

He held his sword in front of him.

Instantly, she was entranced. “It is a beautiful weapon.” She squeezed her fingers into her palm to stop from touching it.

“Go ahead.” He moved the weapon closer.

She dragged a finger down the hilt and into the deeper engravings. There were wicked sharp points just above the hilt. This was a sword built to kill.

“It is forged from metals from our mines,” Colm said. “When a warrior enters his training, his sword is forged especially for him.”

Honor felt herself practically salivating over the weapon. She stroked it again. “These decorative points are gorgeous, but aren’t you at risk of cutting yourself on them?”

“A warrior trains until that does not happen.” He smiled. “And we wear these.”

He held out one arm and she got a closer look at his custom-made gauntlets on his forearms. “These are beautiful.” She touched the leather. “Whoever made them is very skilled.”

“Here. Try the sword.” Colm opened his arms and gestured her closer.

She hesitated…for a second. She moved closer, feeling the heat pouring off him and the scent of healthy sweat and man. He pressed her hands around the hilt and his arms closed around her.

Honor stilled. She and Nera had just spoken about not getting too close to these warriors, and here she was, practically in the arms of one.

But he wasn’t the enemy. She blew out a breath. They weren’t in combat.

With his help, she lifted the sword. “Oh, it’s so much heavier than I thought.” She tilted her head back. “You guys make it look easy.”

“Our nanami.”

Hmm.
Well, the amount of increased strength those little bugs gave them was huge.

She moved the sword in a few arcs, conscious of Colm’s hands resting on her wrists.

“You’re strong,” he murmured.

She tried not to bristle. Yes, she was strong, and no, she wasn’t some dainty, ultra-feminine woman. She’d seen the Markarian women among the crowd. They were tall and lean, but all wore skirts and had long, flowing hair.

She understood clearly she wasn’t a warrior’s idea of the perfect woman. Hell, she was pretty sure she was no man’s idea of the perfect woman. She set her shoulders back. And she was perfectly fine with that.

“The blade likes you.”

Honor blinked. “Excuse me?”

The warrior smiled, and that turned his rugged face into something that made her stomach clench hard.

“The metal,” he said, “is also infused with nanami.”

She looked at the gleam of silver again. “It’s…alive?”

“Sort of. Nanami don’t think like we do, but they work with us, sense things from the environment, from us. They help us move the blade faster.”

“Amazing,” she breathed. She was getting a feel for the sword now. She looked at Colm. “I think I can manage on my own.”

He stared at her for a second and Honor noted that his eyes were a deep, rich brown. Almost as gorgeous as the bronze, metallic sheen of his skin.