Pursued: A Sci-Fi Alien Warrior Romance (Raider Warlords of the Vandar Book 4)

be grateful the mattress wasn’t just a slab of metal. Sinking down onto it and pushing the food tray aside, I rested my elbows on my knees and attempted to calm my breathing.
“This is only a setback. You’ve had setbacks before. You can do this.”
Somehow, the pep talk didn’t help. I’d had setbacks before, but I’d never reacted to a target like I’d reacted to Raas Bron. I glanced at the top of my hand where his touch had scorched my skin. It was unblemished, but I could almost feel the heat when I thought of his skin brushing mine.
I shook my head. “Get it together, Alana. None of that matters. You have a job to do.”
A job that included killing the huge warlord who’d made my pulse race and my mouth go dry. Memories of his dark eyes locked onto mine sent heat pulsing between my legs. I groaned and buried my head in my hands. So much for being the toughest, most cold-blooded assassin in the imperial fleet.
My mind drifted back to the Zagrath training camp. There had been no choice when I’d been in training. I had to be tough, or I’d end up dead. Only the strongest and most ruthless made it through the assassin training. It was why the Zagrath never sent their own kind through the program. They considered themselves too valuable to be wasted. But aliens that they plucked from occupied planets were another matter, especially if they were chosen as children.
I could barely remember my life before being taken by the Zagrath. My parents were a fuzzy memory, although their screams when I’d been ripped from them were not. I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to push the recollection back down into the dark recesses of my brain. If I didn’t think about it, I wouldn’t wonder what happened to them. If I didn’t allow myself to consider the probable outcome of that encounter, they remained alive and well on Faaral.
I balled my hands into fists and pressed them into my closed eyes. It didn’t matter now. None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was the mission. The only thing that mattered was success. That had been drilled into me so thoroughly I was sure it was imprinted on my human DNA.
Success meant approval. Approval from the empire meant that I belonged. Even though I was not technically one of them, being their top assassin meant I was a valuable part of the empire. It meant I was important. I let the feeling of importance and belonging wash over me like a cascade of warm water, and my heart slowed to a steady beat.
“That’s right,” I told myself, snatching a hard knot of bread off the tray and biting into it. “The empire needs you. They can’t succeed without you.”
I swallowed the hard bread and sat up, squaring my shoulders and remembering every commendation I’d been given and every Zagrath leader who had looked at me with respect and a little bit of fear. To most of the empire, I was invisible, but they knew who I was. I was the key to their victories. I was the one who’d taken out chiefs and potentates and royalty, and paved the way for imperial forces to sweep in unopposed. I was the Mantis. A Vandar horde was nothing I couldn’t handle.
Standing, I crossed to the reflective surface above a utilitarian dresser. I swept my fingers through my dark hair and leaned closer to examine my face. The bruises hadn’t faded on my olive skin yet, and half of my face looked like a mottled patchwork of purple and blue. I appraised my own brown eyes, glad the imperial soldier hadn’t blackened them. I should have snapped that guy’s neck, I thought.
“As soon as I’m done here,” I promised myself.
As it was, I’d need to rethink my strategy of seducing Raas Bron. Not only did I look pretty scary, but he also hadn’t reacted to my flirtation at all. I’d been the one to practically go weak at the knees when he’d touched me, and that was not part of the plan.
If I couldn’t seduce him, I’d have to figure out another way to take out the warlord and lead the empire to the horde. Everyone had a weakness. I’d just have to figure out his. I eyed my face again. Or get my hands on a serious amount of concealer.
I walked to the door and pressed my ear to the surface. Like everything on the ship, it was thick metal, and I couldn’t hear a thing except for the muffled cacophony of raiders moving about the ship, heavy boots pounding against iron. I held my breath as I pressed my hands at the seam of the steel door and attempted to pull the two sides apart. When they didn’t budge, I slammed my hand on the wall in frustration. The door slid open silently.
Peering more closely at the wall, I noticed that it was an inset panel. Clever. I looked back at the open door. They’d left it unlocked. I grinned. Not so clever.
I peeked outside the room. No massive raider stood guarding the door. They’d left me unattended, as well. Maybe I’d overestimated the Vandars’ intelligence.
I smiled to myself, thinking that the Vandar might just be dumb brutes after all. Then I hesitated, as I remembered how shrewdly the Raas had studied me. Or perhaps he was even more clever than I’d expected. I bit the corner of my lip. Was I luring him into my web, or was he tricking me into falling into his?

Chapter Seven
Bron
Corvak entered my strategy room and opened his mouth the speak, then belatedly clicked his heels together.
“Report,” I said, standing and coming around the large ebony desk.
“It is the female.”
My pulse stirred as if I’d been stalking prey which had finally moved. “She’s left her quarters?”
Corvak tilted his head. “No. Actually, she opened the door and looked outside, then went back inside