Marked for Pleasure by Jennifer Leeland Page B

her to orgasm. Rhea glanced up to watch the big woman find her release when something caught the corner of her eye. From across the room, the old man peeled from the shadows, his women behind him. He had a disintegrator aimed at Rylan.
    She and Conner must have seen the old man at the same time. Unmasked, the man charged across the room toward the politician. Conner withdrew from Rhea and launched toward Rylan at the exact moment she sprang. Together, they plowed into Rylan, Rhea at the man's torso, Conner at his feet.
    The weapon discharged, and Rhea cried out as it sliced across her shoulder. The smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils. Pain slammed into her. She tumbled into the corner of the room, her head slammed into the wall, and darkness closed over her.
     
    “Rhea!” Conner sprinted to the limp body of his mate. Still, white, and her skin burning at the shoulder, the sight of her sent him reeling.
    And then it happened.
    The rage simmered, boiled. He whipped around and growled. The old man's face had lost every vestige of color. One of the women with him clutched his arm. “You idiot. You hit her. They're Nyrals.”
    Conner reveled in the fear that made the woman's voice tremble. The old man fired the disintegrator. Conner easily avoided the shot. He sprinted across the room and launched at the man, his whole being screaming, the mark on his hip searing hot.
    The old man froze, and Conner plowed into him. One of the women jumped on Conner's back and tried to yank him off. He howled when she dug a knife into his arm. Bleeding, he hardly registered the pain as he pummeled the man's face. His opponent screamed as Conner wrapped his hands around the man's throat. He ignored the woman with the knife. She could have stabbed him again and again, but Conner wouldn't have given a shit. He wanted the man who killed his mate.
    A hand captured his fist just as he was about to smash the old man's face into pulp. He showed his teeth, preparing to attack whoever stopped him.
    But it was Leo, his voice shouting at him, trying to get through the roar in Conner's ears. “Conner, we need him alive.”
    The woman who had stabbed him lay on the floor, her sightless eyes staring at the ceiling. The other woman was unconscious or dead on the floor. The old man whimpered, blood spurting from his mouth as he sobbed. Conner gasped for breath and tried to gain a handle on the killing rage within him.
    Slowly, it subsided, filled in by a deep, wrenching, screaming pain of loss, of rage, of denial. His mate was dead. The woman he loved was gone. He lifted his head and shouted. There were no words to his agony. The gut-churning reality sliced through him, and he flung away from the old man, his fists pounding the wall.
    There was a sound of a woman crying, not loud, but it reached his ears. He turned and found that Mia, tears on her cheeks, sat beside Rhea. Rylan stood stunned, his gaze on Rhea, with the blonde woman, Tatanya, crouched in front of him, guarding him.
    He stumbled to Rhea's side, and Mia slipped away, her grief genuine but unwanted. He clasped Rhea's body to his and buried his face in her neck. He rocked back and forth, unable to think, unable to feel anything but the burning pain in his stomach.
    Unbelievably he felt a pulse in her neck. It was faint and erratic, but there. He lifted his head. “Rhea! Goddamn it, little bird, wake up!”
    He gasped when her eyes blinked and opened halfway. Her left hand touched his face, the mark on her arm glowing and burning. “I'm here, my love. Did we win?”
    Tears fell unchecked from his eyes. “Yes, we won. I love you, Rhea. God, I was so scared I'd lost you.”
    “You're not getting rid of me that easily.” Her smile was brief, and she closed her eyes.
    “Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Rylan's voice intruded.
    Conner glanced at the man. “The Blueshift Brotherhood tried to take you out.”
    “She saved me,” Rylan said as he stared at Rhea.
    “She