The Chosen Sin (2 page)

“Alejandro?” she queried loudly, competing with the music. “It's me, Daria.”

No reaction. Just that irritating sway and thrust.

“Alejandro,” she repeated, louder this time.

He raised his head. His dark eyes were heavy lidded, and a hank of black hair had fallen across his forehead. Dark stubble graced the square jut of his jaw and shaded the skin around his well-formed mouth. Those beautiful lips twisted. “Your turn?” he drawled in his Spanish accent.

He released the veilhounder redhead, who stumbled back drunkenly with a smile on her face. Daria stepped away, but he grabbed her around the waist and drew her close.

Her protest died on her tongue as his hot breath caressed her throat. Some strange quirk of vampire chemistry made a Chosen's breath consistently sweet. Scientists had hypothesized that vamp breath acted as a mild tranquilizer, lulling their human victim and making them more susceptible to a bite.

Daria held her breath, trying not to inhale it. Alejandro bussed his lips across the bare skin between her collarbone and shoulder. The hard rake of fangs followed the sensation.

That broke her momentary stupor. She pushed him away and hooked her leg around his to sweep his legs out from under him. He went down hard on his back, scattering the bar's patrons around them.

Daria knelt beside him, drawing her pulser and pointing it at his temple. It whirred up, readying to fire. The light on top that was connected to her brain wave patterns flared red. “I told you, Alejandro. No fangs.”

Someone to their immediate left gasped, another screamed. They all backed away. But Daria knew that in this place ruckus wasn't uncommon. They'd go back to their drinks and dancing soon enough.

Alejandro blinked. “Daria? Jesus, I didn't recognize you.”

Self-consciously, she touched her hair with her free hand. She'd undergone a lot of cosmetic work for this operation. The face of the person she'd been when she'd known Alejandro was now permanently altered. Her dark chestnut-colored hair was now blond, and her jaw was square-shaped instead of delicately pointed. Her lips were fuller and her cheekbones more prominent.

The only thing she'd left untouched from the neck up were her eyes. They were still a dark blue. When she went undercover, she'd turn her blue eyes brown with an ordinary pair of colored contacts. There'd be no way her quarry would recognize her even without the added precaution of the contacts, but there was no sense in taking chances.

Sante used to say he loved the color of her eyes, the bastard.

“
You
haven't changed at all,” she said. “Don't sink your fangs into me, got it? No biting. No fangs.”

“That's kind of ironic considering what you want me for. How do you think this is going to work, anyway? I can't Choose you without taking your blood.”

A fine tremble in her hand shook the pulser. “I know.” She was still in denial about that part. She'd do it, but until that time, she didn't want to think about it . . . or talk about it. “But that's for a good reason. I don't want you to bite me just for kicks. I'm not a veilhounder.”

He stared at her for a moment before speaking. “You're not ready for this at all, are you?”

She ignored the question and cocked her head to the side. “What the hell are you doing breaking GBC law, anyway? Are you blood drunk?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You let me spill you on your ass, Alejandro, and me a puny human and all.” She smiled. “You a lush now, big guy?”

With the kind of speed achieved by only the fully Chosen, he disarmed and flipped her in one smooth motion.

She tried to strike out at his throat and eyes, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the floor.

“If I was blood drunk,” he growled, “would I have been able to disarm and restrain an agent of the Allied Bureau of Investigation so easily?”

“You son of a bitch, Alejandro. I could've killed you if I wanted to. Your brain was only a trigger squeeze away.” She lifted a brow. “If I didn't need you for this mission, I'd report you to the GBC for your little . . .
slip
. I wonder how often you're slipping these days.”

Fear flashed through his eyes and he clenched his jaw before responding. “Such fire, Daria. I don't remember you being like this. It's so arousing.” He lowered his mouth and brushed his lips across hers. “I might have to change your mind about not allowing my”—he inhaled her scent and groaned—“
fangs
to sink into you.”

His accent rolled over her and she tingled in places that hadn't tingled in a long time. God, she loved his accent and his voice. The two together were magic. She ignored her response. “Some things never change,” she said. “Not after seven years, not even after you've been Chosen. You think all the women will just fall at your feet.”

He smiled. “Didn't you?”

“That was before you were Chosen, and the circumstances were . . . strange. It wouldn't happen now.”

White teeth flashed, making him look feral in the half-light. His fangs were retracted, thank God. “It would be even better
now
.”

It had been fantastic before.

She could still remember that night, the taste of him in her mouth and the feel of him moving inside her. He'd brought her to climax hard and fast at first, and then he'd taken his time with her, drawing out two more orgasms before he was finished.

He'd been better than Sante had ever been, and Sante had been Chosen when she'd slept with him, even though she hadn't known it.

She'd used Alejandro that night. He'd known it and hadn't minded. She'd needed him to help her forget what had happened, to drown her in lust so she wouldn't drown in sorrow. He'd done a good job. For that one night, he'd been like a knight in shining armor to her damsel in distress.

Daria shivered as his mouth came down on hers. His lips slid over hers like silk, in just the lightest brush. Pure desire shot down her spine straight to her sex.

She was still attracted to him after all these years. And, of all the things he could be, he was a
vampire
. She bit his bottom lip and tasted blood. It spread across her tongue like the smoothest wine. She resisted the urge to spit.

Swearing, he jerked back, and Daria rolled away. She snatched up her lost pulser and stood, wiping the floor yuck from her clothing with a grimace. “Get up, Alejandro. We need to move.” She offered her hand and he took it.

Once he was on his feet, she turned on her heel and headed straight for the bar. She needed to take a minute to settle her nerves, so she ordered a shot.

“Rocks?” the bartender asked.

She gave her head a shake.

The bartender served her the shot and she downed it. There was nothing like Darpongese whiskey. It was a little like Earth whiskey, but stronger, with a slightly bitter flavor and a smooth finish.

Alejandro touched her shoulder. “You okay?”

She shrugged him off. “I'm fine.” She set the shot glass back on the bar and closed her eyes for a moment. It was a lie, one she was desperately trying to believe.

Two years of service in the Galactic Patrol, seven years in the Allied Bureau of Investigation, two medals of valor, numerous undercover operations, and hundreds of busts and she still wasn't sure she could handle what was to come.

2

THEY stepped out of the dark bar and into the desolate, sand-swept terrain. The Blood Spot was located in the farthest reaches of the Logos Territory.

Alejandro scanned the horizon and saw nothing but the narrow road leading to Danpang City, surrounded by sand dunes in all directions. The Blood Spot had become a favored hot spot because of its secluded location.

The wind picked up, blowing sand across the road and sending an old can to rattle and scrape across the pavement. The lavender-tinged moon hung at half-mast in the sky and stars glimmered everywhere, sewn like diamond chips into black velvet cloth.

It almost looked like Earth's night sky, almost.

The Chosen had outed themselves the same year the first commercial space jaunts had become de rigueur in 2075. It had been something ancient, dark, and powerful meeting something new, shiny, and exciting. For certain, it had been a notable year in Earth history. The Chosen had known they were outnumbered by humans, known that when they exposed themselves there would be fear and bigotry. And there was.

Wasn't there always?

At the time, Earth had become overpopulated and unpleasant to live on. The Chosen had nursed dreams of finding another world to call home. It was a big universe out there and several habitable planets had already been discovered. Perhaps there'd be a place for them somewhere in the black?

But the Chosen had never managed to find a world to call their own. Outnumbered and outmaneuvered by human law, their requests had always been denied or they'd been stymied by politics and lobbying groups. They'd been forced to join in the rising tide of human immigrants leaving Earth to find a better world. A better world than one that had barely been saved from global warming and was stuffed to the gills with swelling humanity, locusts who devoured every resource in their path without thought for the future.

Then had come the big find of the Nabovsky Galaxy, and a solar system supporting not one, but four habitable planets in close proximity, some large, some smaller.

Angel One was perfect—lush, green, and verdant, like Earth before humans had messed it up. Though the sky was not blue, but a pale green yellow. That planet had become the “capital” of the Angel System and to this day was the most civilized.

Luckily there were strict environmental laws on Angel One that prohibited sprawl from the urban areas and protected the wild places. The urban areas, especially New Chicago, where he and Daria lived, were built high into the sky because of the anti-sprawl laws, though with ample areas of vegetation to enjoy within the confines of the city.

Another planet, Galileo, was small and covered mostly with water, though there were two sizable landmasses that had been colonized. With seas rich in edible fish and sea life, it was a place inhabited by fisher people and their families who worked for the two big food processing plants that served the quad planets, as they were called.

Darpong, where they were now, didn't have much water at all. It was a desert planet, hot during the day and cold at night. It was a medium-sized world and very friendly to humans, though the lack of water made it an unpopular choice. It was a vacation and party spot, mostly. Lawless and wild, it attracted the same. Nabovsky Galaxy's very popular gravsport competition was held here every year, an extreme sport spectacle with a high casualty rate.

With the amount of sun on Darpong, it was ironic that Sante had chosen it for his commune since vamps couldn't walk in sunlight, although if the stories were true, the dome protected the solar-sensitive occupants from the punishing rays.

Songset, named for the man who'd discovered her, was tidal locked. Without season, tide, or rotation, it simply existed. One side of the huge planet was caught in perpetual high summer, with temperatures reaching 120 degrees Fahrenheit nearly every day. The other side was caught in perpetual winter, temperatures dipping into the minus 50 region.

Most of the immigrants who'd elected to colonize Songset lived on the band circling the planet, where the climate was most hospitable, though some lived on the “day” and “night” sides under large man-made domes. Songset was a mining world, ravaged for its rich mineral deposits.

There had been noises about allowing the Chosen their own rock, perhaps the dark side of Songset, but, as usual, that had never come to fruition.

Alejandro watched Daria walk to her dune bike, which was a far more pleasing sight than their arid surroundings. Her newly blond hair was cut close to her head. It was so short you might think she was a man from behind, until you dropped your gaze and saw that long, slender neck, the delicate shoulders, and a nicely shaped ass. There was no mistaking her body for anything but 100 percent female.

Her face, as well as her hair, looked different. The surgeons had done a good job. Sante wouldn't recognize her. Her eyes were the same, although they held a hardness that hadn't been there when she'd been a newly graduated patroller.

Was it Christopher Sante who had stripped Daria of her youth so fast and hard? Or had it been one of the many other events that could befall a wet-behind-the-ears patroller in the barely settled Angel System?

Even after all these years, she intrigued him. When he'd discovered Daria was the agent selected for this assignment, he'd convinced the Council that he was the man to play her counterpart. He was still working out the
why
of that in his mind.

When they'd both been patrollers, he'd tried his best to protect her. Maybe a part of him felt like that job wasn't finished yet, although he knew what Daria would do if she ever found out he thought she needed protection. He'd be divested of his balls in about two seconds flat.

When they'd both worked at patrol headquarters, he had been desperate to get her into bed, but she'd only wanted Christopher Sante and had rejected all Alejandro's advances.

In the end, seduction hadn't been necessary. His efforts at consolation after Sante had done his number on her had turned into much more. He and Daria had their night together seven years ago and Alejandro had always thought that'd be the end of it. Until now.

Daria mounted her dune bike and started it. The shiny silver and black vehicle roared to life and then settled down to a kittenish purr. She reached for the helmet hooked behind her seat and pulled it on.