Daysider. Susan Krinard

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Daysider - Susan  Krinard

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only Damon could give her.

      Garret. She had said something about Garret. And then she’d forgotten about her half brother, forgotten everything, and…

      She felt frantically under the borrowed jacket. Her uniform shirt and undershirt were torn wide open. The bandage was gone, and her shoulder wound was nothing but a patch of puckered skin, cool to the touch. She brushed her lips with her fingers. They were bruised and sore.

      God. What had she done? What had he done?

      “I can kill him now if you want me to,” Michael said, his voice ringing with hatred. He held the muzzle of his gun to Damon’s temple, just as when they’d first met. Damon looked steadily at Alexia.

      She tried to sit up, but a surging tide of dizziness forced her back down. The borrowed jacket slipped to the ground, and she pulled her own jacket closed over her breasts as she fought to clear her mind.

      “No,” she said, as steadily as she could. “It wasn’t what you thought, Michael.”

      “Then what was it? It looked to me like he was about ready to tear your chest open.”

      Was that what he’d seen? Which would be worse—his believing that Damon meant to take her blood or that they were having sex in the middle of a dangerous mission?

      Sex with a Daysider. And she’d been willing. More than willing.

      “He didn’t hurt me,” she insisted. “It wasn’t his fault.”

      Mike scowled at her, contempt in his eyes. Not only for Damon, but for her. Judging her, even before she had a chance to get him alone and explain.

      How could she ever do that when she didn’t understand it herself?

      “Where were you, Michael?” she asked.

      He shifted his weight and looked away. “Scouting. I didn’t leave you, Alexia. I—”

      “Did you know Damon and I were attacked?”

      He blinked at her sudden question, hearing the anger in her voice. And she was angry. At him, at Damon, at herself most of all. Herself, and the sickness that was stealing her mind and will and body bit by bit. Her bizarre behavior had tempted the predator in Damon, Darketan or not. If he looked chastened now, if there was any regret in his eyes, she doubted that it had anything to do with shame.

      Had he taken her blood? She could find no sign of it, but then again a small enough bite would heal quickly, and chemicals in Nightsiders’ saliva both sterilized and closed the small incisions created when they fed.

      A vague memory of tasting blood hovered on the edges of Alexia’s mind, and she nearly gagged. I couldn’t have, she thought. It isn’t possible.

      “We were shot at by unknown assailants,” she said, forcing the image out of her mind. “Possibly from the colony. You didn’t hear the gunshots?”

      “No.” Michael’s skin had paled beneath the dark smears across his face. “Were you injured?”

      “How does it appear to you?” Damon asked him scathingly.

      Michael made a threatening gesture. Despising her vulnerable position, Alexia tried to sit up again. Damon reached for her. She flinched away, and Michael’s finger twitched on the trigger.

      “I’m fine,” she said, pretending to ignore Damon even though her flesh felt as if a million tiny circuits were sending bursts of electricity racing through every nerve. “But because of the attack, we haven’t been able to get close to the colony.”

      “It’s worse than that,” Damon said quietly. “They’ve set up a defense perimeter between us and the settlement. We aren’t getting anywhere near it now, not without a fight.”

      “Then the colonists saw you,” Mike said, glaring at Damon.

      “Or they were expecting intruders,” she said.

      Damon craned his neck to look up at Michael, forcing the rifle’s muzzle away from his cheek. “How did you get through?” he asked.

      “Shut up,” Michael growled.

      “It’s a good question,” Alexia said, wondering why, after what had just happened, she could take Damon’s side against her partner’s. “Were you able to observe the colony, Michael?”

      “While I was reconnoitering, I discovered that there was another enemy agent in the vicinity.”

      “Nightsider?” she asked, trying to sit up again.

      “He was wearing heavy clothes, so that’s a good bet.” Michael nudged Damon with the rifle again. “You didn’t say anything about other Erebus operatives running around out here.”

      “He told me it was likely there were,” Alexia said, “but he didn’t know who or what their assignments would be.”

      “That’s convenient.” Michael said, staring down at Damon. “Think any of them could have been sent out to get rid of us while you were keeping us distracted, leech?”

      “I would have been informed were that the case,” Damon said.

      “Oh,” Michael said, sarcasm turning his words almost sickeningly sweet. “That’s all right, then.”

      “What happened to the Nightsider you were following?” Alexia asked, cutting in before Michael could work himself into another rage.

      “I tracked him most of the night, but he never went anywhere near the settlement.”

      “He didn’t hear you?”

      “No.” Mike’s voice turned defensive. “I thought seeing what he was up to was worth my staying away a little longer. Obviously I made a mistake.”

      More than you know, Alexia thought grimly. “Why did you stop?” she asked.

      “I lost him. He could be anywhere right now.”

      “And we can’t assume he wasn’t one of the shooters.” She raised her hand to forestall Damon’s protest. “We can’t eliminate any possibility. He could have been from the colony. We need to get through that perimeter to find out what’s going on. Now that you’re back, Michael, we can work out a plan to create a diversion so that one of us can get closer to the settlement.”

      “Are you including him in this plan?” Michael asked, prodding at Damon’s neck.

      Damon’s next move was almost too swift to follow. He literally turned on himself, striking Michael’s gun aside as he twisted his body in a way Alexia wouldn’t have believed possible. In three seconds he had Michael pinned to the ground like a rabbit between a leopard’s paws.

      “The question,” Damon said through his teeth, “is whether or not you

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