The Tenth Legion (Book 6, Progeny of Evolution)

THE TENTH LEGION

By

Mike Arsuaga

Paranormal Family Saga Romance

I Heart Book Publishing, LLC

http://www.IHeartBookPublishing.com

First electronic edition distributed by
Smashwords

Copyright © 2015 by Mike Arsuaga

All cover art and logo copyright © 2015 by I
Heart Book Publishing

Cover Design by Cynthia Arsuaga

Photographs/Cover Art Courtesy of
iStock.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental and are not to be construed as
real.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this literary work may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form, in the entirety or a
portion, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without the express written permission of the Publisher, except in
the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or
reviews.

To request permission and all other
inquiries, please address:

I Heart Book Publishing, LLC

5936 Lake Melrose Drive, Orlando, FL
32829

WARNING

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution
of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright
infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is
investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in
federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
(http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/)

DEDICATION

To every recovering alcoholic, and user out
there.

With God’s help, may you find your way
home.

PRAISE FOR

Progeny of
Evolution Series

The Other Kind

“…
a story of love, loss, murder and
survival across many variations I give The Other Kind an impressive
5 stars.”

~ R.N.Hadley Book Reviews

The Tenth Legion

“
As good as if not better than the
previous books and with the universe knocking on the door to be
explored you know there just has to be more to come. I would not
hesitate in recommending Tenth Legion to anyone aged 18 years and
over. I give Tenth Legion 5 out of 5 stars.”

~ R.N.Hadley Book Reviews

Lagrange Point

“
Good story, if a trifle sad in places;
nice twist on the Damien Porter subplot; good ending. Next
question: where do we go from here? Or is it like Buzz Lightyear’s
catch phrase: To Infinity and Beyond (for The Others)?”

~ Tony-Paul deVissage (5 Stars)

Reviewed by T. P. Vissage

The Other Kind

What a deliciously diverse and believable
world Mike Arsuaga has created in THE OTHER KIND, and I love how
he’s focused this introduction into his new world on this most
unlikely pair…

…
I know this is the start of a series and
I’m looking forward to the adventures this gifted author is going
to take his THE OTHER KIND world...and of course us, his
readers...on.

Well Done.

~ Kat Holmes Reviewer (5 Stars)

The Children

I’m glad Sam, Jim and family refuse to go
away, as their story is enthralling and addicting! I was hooked
with book one and I am so glad that I was able to review books two
and three as well. I haven’t been so engrossed in a series since I
discovered ‘The Vampire Chronicles’ by Anne Rice or The Dragon
Riders of Pern by Anne McCaffrey. I am definitely a fan!

~ Night Owl Reviews (4.5 Stars)

Review by Victoria Cross

The Tenth Legion

Progeny of Evolution Series Book 6

God’s design includes all
creatures—especially lycans and vampires.

Titles by Mike Arsuaga

The Other Kind, Book One

The Corporation, Book Two

The Children, Book Three

Life in the Time of Decline, Book Four

The Daughter, Book Five

Lagrange Point, Book Seven, SPRING 2016

Top Dog (Shifter Tales 1)

Love and Death in the Big Easy (Shifter
Tales 2)

Titles by M. J. Segar

The First Servant

Jenny-Leigh 8

OVER EIGHTEEN ONLY:
Contains graphic sexual content.

CHAPTER ONE

F
or werewolf
Lorna Winters, the twenty-second century arrived early. Staying up
to see in the new century carried a price, but it was worth it
because the event didn’t come along every day. Her grogginess arose
from lack of sleep rather than through imbibing alcoholic
beverages. No more than a glass of wine at a sitting. In general,
alcohol made her kind do irresponsible, things—like bite humans.
Still, getting only two hours in the sack left her in a haze. A
shower and a cup of coffee would hit the spot.

The dark shape
beside her flinched, responding to a quick jab.

“What?”
grumbled a sleep-besotted voice.

“
Time to
get up, Jerry.” She addressed the immobile lump under the covers
while bumping him with a hip, adding, “It’s Monday—my Monday,
anyway.”
Actually, the
news crawler said
Saturday
, but
for the Bottom Dwellers it still meant another work day. “The
party’s over. Time to get your butt up.”

As lowest in
seniority among the lieutenants in the Orlando Police Department,
she got last pick on shift and days off. For her, that meant
mornings—four a.m. to one p.m.—with Tuesdays and every other
Thursday off.

A mumbled
reply of grumpy monosyllables rose from the covers. “The party’s
over for you, maybe.” A handsome head topped by thick, sandy hair
pushed into the open. “I’m off today.” He started to roll over.

Jerry Pease,
Attorney-at-law, was Lorna’s current relationship, or friend with
benefits. Little besides sex held them together. He didn’t measure
up to the level of a mate. The lexicon of her kind reserved that
term for permanent relationships, also known as pair bonds. Above
all, they valued loyalty and faithfulness in a relationship—even
ones no more complicated than casual sex. Of course, the first
decade after emergence didn’t count. Any time he wanted out, he
only needed to say so, but she wouldn’t abide dipping his wick
behind her back with others. The arrangement worked both ways.
Also, he possessed incredible sexual stamina for a human, leaving
no room for temptation to stray.

Lorna skimmed
sinewy fingers across his naked abdomen, savoring the feel of
smooth skin stretched across solid muscle, meandering toward the
waistband. Now more awake, he snuggled closer. The scent of his
building arousal filled her senses. He drew strong hands across the
creamy tan of her face, from which two oversized chocolate-colored
eyes viewed the world. A quick shake, and dark-brown hair fell into
a pageboy cut, framing an oval face like an abbreviated curtain.
Short bangs turned in on the ends, all in strict compliance with
police department female grooming standards. Leaning across to see
the time, she paused to feel Jerry’s gaze as he admired the display
of slim, square shoulders tapering to narrow waist, flaring back to
small round hips. Firm, white buttocks hid just out of sight under
the covers.

“Keep it in
your pants, buster,” she said. “It’s already quarter-to-three.”

“That still
gives us fifteen minutes.” He sweetened the tentative proffer, with
soft back-rubbing, igniting warmth in a different, lower part.

Turning toward
the sharp-featured man, she muttered, “Morning breath be damned,”
pressing her face to his.

Afterward, he
sat around making stupid comments while she got ready.

“What’s that?”
The sight of a vacuum sealed aluminum pouch caught his
attention.

“My lunch.
Treated beef. It keeps me from hunting the neighborhood kids.” A
pint carton of milk followed. “This is what I eat when you’re not
taking me out somewhere.” She didn’t mention that while the
compounds added to animal flesh or blood products, provided
complete nutrition, the compulsion to hunt and kill lingered. Over
the years, the corporation run by her community, Coven
International, Inc. had spent millions on rehabilitation centers
and Twelve-Step programs.

* * * *

The day
continued with a relatively comfortable bus ride. For most of the
predawn trip, she shared the vehicle with a driver and one other
passenger. The unventilated seating area could be quite
uncomfortable during busier parts of the day with the sun up and
workday mobs piled on. Lorna folded her arms, retreating within
herself while the bus motored by the queue gathered in front of the
government food bank.

At the train
station stop, the other passenger got off. Being the only people on
the bus, the driver struck up a conversation.

“Did you get
in some good celebrating?” The gaunt male asked.

“Couldn’t do
much. As you can see, I had work. What about you?” She left out the
detail that lycans had a low tolerance for alcohol, in most
respects a real mood killer for celebration of the occasion.

The driver
pulled around a moped. “Same problem, but I don’t see much to cheer
about.”

The dark
little machine fell behind. “How so?”

The driver
shifted position in his seat. “No one I know regrets the passing of
the twenty-first century. It began well enough. Then the Great
Plague in 2026 and the financial panics of 2027 and 2045 messed
things up. The United States, along with just about every other
country fell apart during The Dissolution. We’re five regions and
dozens of smaller territories. The economy is a mess. I think the
woofers are behind all of it.”

Woofers,
the
derogatory term applied to vampires and lycans, riled Lorna, but
the days of shredding progenitors of offensive speech were long
gone. She sloughed off the subject, saying, “At least Orlando
became the capital of our region. That counts for
something.”

“Well, all I
have to say is the world gave back in the twenty-first century all
the gains it had made in the twentieth.” After answering, he
shifted on the seat again. Lorna speculated about the hells unique
to being planted in a bus seat all day. She hoped the obnoxious
asshole developed hemorrhoids.

The bus turned
a corner. In the next block a building with lights burning full
blast acted like a beacon within the rest of the darkened downtown.
Lorna got to her feet. “That’s my stop.”

Fading gold
letters made a semi-circle over the entrance. Orlando Police
Department, they read, OPD for short.

Despite the
unplanned dalliance with Jerry, she arrived at work with a good
five minutes to spare. On Saturdays, the Utility Allowance for hot
water—thirty seconds—accomplished little beyond warming the
winter-chilled pipes, so she skipped the shower in favor of a quick
sponge off. The scent of sex still covered her, but only another of
her kind could smell it. No worry. She was the sole representative
in OPD.

A
well-worn
Happy New Year
banner, left over from the impromptu party begun the day
before at the end of first shift, arced across the entrance of the
squad room. Stepping off the elevator, she passed the rows of worn,
battered desks the subordinate detectives used, an area called the
bull pen. A procession of tired and glum faces returned her
wordless morning greetings. It might be New Year’s Day of a new
century, but while the rest of the world continued the celebration,
they were stuck, the tired along with the hung over, in a drab
police squad room.

Welcome to
Major Case Squad.

After pausing
at the community refrigerator to drop off the pint carton of milk,
Lorna proceeded to her desk. A sliver of yellowish light fell
across the dingy carpet at the entrance to the captain’s office.
The springs of his chair groaned when she walked by. Each morning,
he made a point of checking her arrival time and issuing the same
greeting. To wit. “Good morning Lieutenant Werewolf.” Several
muffled sniggers from around the bull pen followed the shout from
his office.

“
You
should know by now, sir, the preferred term for my kind is
lycan
.” The
layer of unctuous politeness in her tone conveyed the exact
opposite sentiment. More sniggers suggested this episode of their
running gun battle ended in a draw.