Boss in the Streets #2
A deafening, guttural roar tore from his throat. It wasn't a scream—it was an acoustic shockwave. The balcony railing vibrated under my hands. The violet neon lighting above the plaza flickered wildly. The sheer, animalistic bloodlust in that sound crushed the breath from every soldier's lungs.
The tail at my waist jerked hard. It didn't pull me backward—it cemented me in position, pressed my back so firmly against his rock-hard chest that I felt every single tensed muscle.
Look at her, but don't touch her.
The lieutenant stared at the balcony. The color drained from his scarred face. The hand that had twitched toward his weapon dropped limply to his side. His knees gave out. The heavy, gray mutant crashed onto the obsidian plates of the plaza and pressed his forehead into the dust.
Seconds later, the rest of the army followed.
A wave of steel, flesh, and armor collapsed. Hundreds of soldiers, generals, and officers fell to their knees and lowered their heads into the dirt. The metallic clacking of their knee guards echoed like a synchronized thunderclap off the fortress walls. No one dared look up.
I stared at the sea of subjugated bodies.
My pulse hammered hard and steady in my throat.
The adrenaline of power tasted metallic and cool on my tongue.
The psychological armor fit perfectly. I had delivered the strategy.
He had demonstrated the raw, overwhelming violence.
We were a flawless mechanism of oppression.
“Dismissed. Get to work,” I commanded.
I turned on my heel. My boots rang against the metal grating.
Raze let his tail slide slowly from my waist. The scales scraped in a soft, demanding movement over my hip before the coiled muscle rolled silently behind him.
I stepped through the bulkhead back into the corridor. He followed me.
The heavy doors closed behind us, sealing out the stench of the mining city. The hallway's red emergency lighting cast hard shadows across our faces.
I exhaled deeply. The absolute tension in my body didn't fall away—it transformed. The dictator's ego merged with the boiling, raw energy still radiating from his body.
He grabbed my shoulder.
His left hand closed around my collarbone. The black claws didn't dig into my flesh, but the grip was hard and uncompromising. He spun me around and pressed me against the cool metal of the bulkhead.
His broad chest pressed against me. He consumed all my space. His right knee shoved between my thighs, forced my legs apart, and pinned my pelvis to the door. The heat radiating from him burned straight through the fabric of my new combat pants.
I didn't resist. I raised my chin and stared directly into his amber eyes.
“You dictate judgments like a queen of blood,” he rumbled. His gravelly voice washed over me. His pupils were narrow, dangerous slits. The gold in them blazed. “You send my hardest warriors to the mines without batting an eye. And they eat dust for you.”
“They eat dust for the demon standing behind me,” I replied, my voice dark and demanding. I raised my hands and pressed them flat against his bare chest. I felt the heavy pounding of his heart beneath the deep violet skin. “I only deliver the variables. You are the consequence.”
A deep, rough laugh vibrated through his chest. He lowered his head. His fangs brushed along my jawline, hovering just above the bite wound from last night. His hot breath washed over the tender flesh. I tensed involuntarily, a traitorous, heavy pull pulsing deep in my core.
“We’ve stabilized command,” he growled against my neck. The thumb of his left hand stroked my throat, tracing the racing beat of my pulse. “Kael is eliminated. The army is subjugated.”
“That was the local problem,” I stated coldly, even though my knees went weak under the raw friction of his body.
I ignored the heat of his hardness pressing against my belly and kept my mind crystal clear.
“We triggered the perimeter alarm yesterday. The King of the Forests knows we’re weakened. He knows we’ve provoked his troops.”
He raised his head. The playful, sexual darkness in his gaze gave way to razor-sharp tactical focus. He released my shoulder, shifted his weight back slightly, but stayed close enough that I could still feel his heat.
“He has your partner,” he rumbled. The muscles in his neck tensed. “He’s holding Jules in the deep sectors of the jungle. Kael wanted to bomb that sector. I’m going in.”
I looked at his broad shoulders, at the scars that spoke of countless close-quarters battles. The jungle was a toxic labyrinth of carnivorous plants, mutants, and predators that could tear even this warlord to pieces.
“We’re going in,” I corrected harshly. I slapped my palm flat against his chest plate. “You know the terrain. But I know Jules. I know the frequencies of her equipment. Without my sensor algorithms, you’ll walk blind into his traps.”
He looked at me. A long, silent pause. Those amber eyes scanned my face, searching for hesitation, for fear of the jungle. He found nothing. Only absolute, cold determination.
The thick tail swayed calmly behind his boots.
“The jungle is not a tactical room of steel and obsidian, little strategist,” he warned quietly. His voice sounded like grinding gravel. “Out there, you won’t find airlocks to seal. The ecosystem itself is a weapon.”
“Then I’ll hack the damn ecosystem,” I bit out. I turned away from him, pushed off from the airlock, and strode down the corridor toward the armory. “We leave at nightfall. Pack your blades. The grace period is over.”