Primal Heat. Crystal Jordan

      She focused on his face and realized that that was the difference. Since the Kith had come and Arthur had had the chance to band together the militaries of Earth to fight them, it had gone from saving the world to controlling the world. Perhaps it was the glory or just the power, but it really didn’t matter why, did it? Arthur, a man she would have sworn a year ago was a dedicated soldier to the core of his being, had lost whatever internal compass guided him. He’d crossed the line one too many times and never suffered any consequences for it. People were scared and they were desperate for the safety they had once known. The safety of ignorance.

      All those people were willing to let Arthur do whatever he wanted in order to reclaim that security. They’d hand over their armies, their control, their independence, their money. Everything.

      She could see in Arthur’s eyes how much he liked that. It wasn’t about safety for him anymore; it wasn’t about protection or what was good for humanity. It was about him now. His power, his control, his ability to convince people they would never be safe without him in charge.

      A chill rippled down her spine, and she swallowed hard, forcing her expression to impassivity. “You have a meeting with the president at ten, sir.”

      “Thank you, Preston.” Arthur continued to stare at her for a long moment, and Bren refused to give in to the urge to fidget. “Dismissed.”

      She nodded and executed a quick about-face, marching out of his office and closing the door behind her. It wasn’t until there was a thick wooden barrier between him and her that she let out the breath she’d been holding.

      Perching in her office chair, she logged in to her computer and just stared at the screen. Her thoughts ricocheted in her mind, unable to settle. She kept coming back to the same conclusion she had the night before. Regardless of the Sueni fleet being here or gone, this was going to be a no-win situation for Earth. Arthur, the savior of humanity, was going to make it a no-win situation. People had died, and more people were going to, if Arthur remained in command.

      So what was she going to do about it?

      Her hands folded tightly in her lap, her nails digging into her skin. Whatever remained of her initial numbness evaporated. Panic and terror bolted through her, made her uniform dampen with sweat.

      She could do nothing. It was in her best interest to keep following orders and just…living her life. Because the army was her life. This was who she was. It was all she’d ever wanted to be.

      She’d run like hell from her foster family the day she’d graduated from high school, signed on with the army, and never looked back.

      She’d been lucky and she knew it. Her foster father had satisfied himself with occasionally kicking the crap out of her and the other kids and neglecting them the rest of the time. And that had been one of the better homes she’d lived in after her parents died. She was just grateful to have never had to look herself in the mirror and see the empty, hollowed-out eyes of the walking ghosts some of those foster kids had become.

      Bren had known then that she would do everything she could to make sure she was never anyone’s victim ever again. She’d learn how to fight back, she’d learn how to never be weak, she’d learn how to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves. And she had. The army had given her that. A sense of purpose, of duty, of belonging to something greater than herself.

      But that was the problem, that was why she couldn’t blindly follow Arthur now, because the army had given her a purpose, had made her country and its citizens more important than anything else. More than personal gain or power or prestige. She couldn’t just stand back now and do nothing when the things she lived for were threatened.

      She forced herself to cold, calm calculation. Now was not the time for panic. She had to do something. There was no question left in her mind about that. This was not optional. But what could she do? Who could she ask for help? Who could she trust? Conspiring against the most powerful man on the planet had gotten people far more influential than her killed. Who would be willing to step out of line to protect everyone from Arthur?

      A flash of Farid’s face entered her mind. She dismissed it, but then paused.

      If Arthur was the enemy, then was the enemy of her enemy someone she could turn to? Farid hated Arthur, of that she had no doubt. He’d love some retribution for the preemptive strike against the Sueni armada. If she gave him the chance to exact his revenge, would it save the planet or make the situation worse?

      There was only one way to find out, but she couldn’t call him just to ask. No, this meeting would have to be private and it would have to be in person. She closed her eyes and sighed. Pulling her cell phone out of her purse, she opened up an encrypted email and composed a new message that would somehow interface with the Sueni ships. Her lips twisted. Apparently, they’d been able to dumb down their communication system to get the most advanced Earth technology to play well with them.

      Lord Arj—

      No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t want anyone who might intercept this to know what her real intentions were. Hell, she didn’t even want the Kith nobleman to know what she wanted until she saw him. She wanted to look him in the eyes when she told him. She deleted what she’d typed and tried again.

      Farid. No more teasing. Let’s finish what we started in person. Meet me tonight at your original landing site. I need you. —Bren

      Her hand hovered over the key that would seal her fate forever. There would be no turning back. Her career—her life—would be over. Hell, if she were honest with herself, she should have reported fraternizing with the enemy in her dreams long ago, but there was no hiding this kind of breach. Arthur would find out eventually. She knew it. And then everyone would know she was a traitor. If her fingers trembled, she’d never admit it to anyone.

      Clenching her teeth together, she pressed SEND.

      Farid was more than ready to fall facedown on his gelpad. He had three hours before his next meeting and he didn’t care what it took to make it happen, he was getting some sleep and not linking with Bren. “Vishra, please add the somnolence dose to the air in my room now.”

      The ship’s response was immediate. “Of course, my lord.”

      “Thank you.” He leaned back against the glass wall of the multiveyor while it moved backward and then slanted at a downward angle to take him to the floor with his quarters.

      His work shift so far, like every work shift since they’d arrived, had been a lesson in the futile. Still, he refused to give up. This was what he lived for. The restrictions Kyber had placed on Farid’s diplomacy made it all the more challenging. Given enough time, he would win, eventually. Whether he had that time before the emperor found his One was another story…and another challenge.

      Lost in thoughts that had occupied every waking hour for months, he stepped out of the multiveyor and heard it swish closed and hum as it sped away.

      A man came bursting through a door and slid to a stop before him. “Farid.”

      He blinked and looked up. “Kyber.”

      Of all the people aboard their ships, Farid was one of the few who could call his cousin by name. Even then, he usually did so only in private. It was a delicate balance between being family and being respectful of his ruler, no matter how much younger Kyber was than Farid.

      “I think I’ve found her.” A wide smile broke across the emperor’s face.

      Farid stared for a moment before that information processed. “Your One?”

      “Yes. I know where she is now. I must go.” Kyber glanced over Farid’s shoulder. “Vishra, call the multiveyor for me.”

      The ship replied in that smooth, unflappable voice. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

      “Oh. Wait.” Kyber turned back to his room and lifted a hand toward the open door. A pistol came whizzing through the air to slap into his palm. He slid it into a holster at his hip.

      Farid