Page 37 of Forbidden Desires

Stacey snorted. He said you would say that, too. It was media misinformation. The government paid them to make it look like it was the Tan-ge. The Diza paid the government to make them point the finger at the Tan-ge. You know the government’s about misinformation. I have a source in the White House that says President Lincoln is getting dicked on the regular by the Diza king. Do you think she’s going to let that get out?”

Amelia smacked her head with her palm. The woman would be a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream.

“As always, you’re welcome to think what you want. That’s what being part of America means. It doesn’t give you the right to bring your bigoted thinking into someone’s house. Why are you here?”

“For you, of course. I want to save my man a headache. You’re that headache.” Stacey cracked her neck and smiled before she reached for Amelia.

Amelia rolled off the desk. She wasn’t much of a fighter, but she knew as she approached Earth that her life was on the line, which meant that Zylar’s life was on the line, too. Kill one of them, the other will die. Who came up with this fated mate concept?

“Don’t you get it? This male, the Tan-ge is not only my enemy but yours. Why would he send you out to do his dirty work? He has no plans to marry you or make you his mate. He won’t reward you unless the reward is death.”

“No reward, huh?” Stacey reached out and smacked Amelia with her mind.

Amelia felt her neck crack when she flew backward hitting the wall and sliding to the floor.

Amelia’s hand went to her neck, probing it before picking herself up from the floor. Well, that was new and unexpected. You’re an empath with psychic abilities.”

“Surprise, bitch.”

“You need to wash your mouth out with soap.” Amelia took another look at Stacey. She was tall and blonde with guileless brown eyes and a killer rack. Her body was curvaceous. It was no wonder why he would want her. Any man would want a piece of Stacey until they got to know her.

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” Stacey struck, sending another mental punch Amelia’s way. It was meant to take her down.

Amelia raised a shield. She may not be the best fighter, but the attack on the cruiser coming back to Earth taught her more than she wanted to acknowledge.

“You’re not the only empath that’s psychic around here.” Amelia probed Stacey’s emotions as she blocked her from attacking her mind. Stacey’s shields were strong, and it looked like she had been working on her mental shields for years, not the months Amelia had been aware of what she was.

Amelia raised a psychic hand and punched Stacey only to howl in pain. That wasn’t the way it was done. Stacey stopped to laugh out loud.

“To think he thought you would be a problem.”

Amelia jumped up and moved, hiding behind a large chair in the room.

“That’s the beauty of fighting this way. You don’t need to see a person as long as you have a mental awareness or connection with them. The first is nice, the second is locked on like an atomic bomb to a coordinate that has been set and can’t be changed. Sort of like this.” Stacey reached out and mentally punched Amelia in the stomach, making her double in pain.

Amelia curled up before she retreated into herself. She started making shields, each one stronger than the last, as Stacey tore them like tissue paper. Stacey kept coming, her advance was relentless, leaving Amelia no choice but to keep refining her shields. It felt like days, months, and years passed in the blink of an eye as Stacey tore down one shield after another. Sometimes she would get a good hit or kick on Amelia before Amelia could raise another shield.

“Come on, you need to do better,” Amelia told herself. She raised another shield that Stacey demolished down to the roots, tearing it out of her mind. Amelia lay on the floor, helpless and too tired to raise another shield.

Stacey laughed and began assaulting Amelia, who felt every kick and punch. Stacey never touched her physically, but Amelia knew she was going to die. There was only so much torture her body could take. A nicely aimed kick broke a rib.

“Girl, you’re getting your ass kicked.”

“Thanks, unknown voice in my head.”

Amelia was sure that she was suffering some kind of brain damage from the ass-kicking she was taking. How many timeshad she hit her head? It seemed reasonable that there was someone in her head talking to her.

“Are you tired of this chick? I know I am,” the voice asked.

“I am, but I’ll be dead soon and then it will stop.”

“After everything, our mate said and showed us. Are you still ready to die without a fight?”

The voice cast accusing eyes at Amelia: how the heck did that work, anyway?

“I fought. Look what happened?”

“If fighting like a two-year-old is your thing, then I guess you fought. How about acting like an adult and getting your act together?”

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