He didn't play by anyone's rules.
Suddenly he was there. Right there. Dropping from the trees like a nightmare made flesh, closing the distance before she could bring her weapon to bear.
He hit her hard, driving her back against the trunk of a massive tree, and then his hands were on her,one clawed hand wrapping around both her wrists, pinning them above her head, the other flat against the bark beside her face. Caging her.
She fought.
Instinct took over, fourteen years of training and eight years before that in the Corps. She drove her knee up hard into his side, felt it connect with armor plating, felt him register the impact. Then she slammed her forehead into his helm.
Pain exploded through her skull. Stupid—hitting armor with bone. But she heard him grunt, felt the vibration of it through his chest, and a snarl rumbled out of him, low and dangerous.
His grip tightened on her wrists. His body pressed harder against hers, pinning her more completely, and she understood she had only made him take her more seriously.
Good.
And then she felt it.
Against her hip, hard and thick even through the layers of bio-armor, and then she realized his armor hadthinnedthere, had shifted to let her feel him, because Hyrakki armor only did what its wearer wanted it to do.
He was letting her feel this. Choosing to.
Her breath caught. Heat flooded through her, instant and overwhelming, pooling low in her belly. Her pulse hammered in her throat.
She had fought him. And he had gotten harder.
What the fuck.
He was massive. She'd known that intellectually, had seen him at a distance, but knowing and feeling were different things entirely. His body pressed against hers, the weight of him pinning her to the tree, and she understood in her bones what she was dealing with. Raw power. Restrained violence. A predator who could tear her apart without effort.
A predator who wanted her. Who was letting her know exactly how much.
His helm tilted down toward her. So close. If her hands were free, she could have touched it. Could have traced the smooth surface of that faceless mask, found the edges where it met his skin.
Then a sound came from behind that mask. Not the rumble she'd heard before. Not a growl or a snarl.
A voice.
Low. Rough. Like stone grinding against stone.
"Serafina."
Her name. In his mouth. In a voice no one had warned her about, a voice she hadn't known existed.
He knew her name. He could speak. He had chosen this moment to prove both.
She couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Could only stare at that faceless helm and feel her world rearranging itself around the sound of her own name in a monster's voice.
Then he released her.
Stepped back. One pace, two. His helm stayed fixed on her for a long moment,watching, measuring, cataloging her response. And then he turned and walked into the jungle. Not vanishing. Not disappearing in a blur of inhuman speed. Walking. Letting her watch him go.
She could have shot him. The veth'kai was still in reach, knocked loose when he'd pinned her but close enough to grab. She could have put a beam through his back, proved she was still a threat, still in this fight.
She didn't move.
She watched him disappear into the green, and she didn't move.
Her legs gave out.
