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Authors: Heather C. Myers

Battlefield (5 page)

BOOK: Battlefield
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Chapter 9

 

Training was canceled, which was definitely not normal.  In fact, Devyn was actually worried about the fact, given her recent history with the NDS.  It was a tad self-centered, but she hoped that this sudden change had nothing to do with her or her behavior.  Instead, all recruits for Unit 121 were separated between the sexes and placed into two big changing rooms.  Their identification numbers were on the doors, each one marked individually.

 

Devyn glanced around, confused and unsure.  “What is this, Rachel?” she said in a murmur, trying to survey her environment for any semblance of a clue she could decipher in this new terrain.

 

“To be honest, sweetie, I’m not sure,” Rachel said, her dark chocolate eyes surveying the premises.  She glanced back at her friend after a moment.  “I’ve heard rumors, though.  The day’s coming up when we actually have to get into this.  I mean, fight.  To fight other Units and to try and earn our freedom.  I think this might have to do with that.”

 

Devyn said nothing, but she allowed Rachel’s words to slowly sink in.  This still didn’t make sense, and no other member of the Unit was naïve enough to try and open one of the doors.  What if it was a test they would no doubt fail and then be punished for?  No one was willing to take that chance, and Devyn didn’t blame them.  Hell, she wasn’t going to.

 

After another long moment, Sarah showed up, her crisp eyes calculating as she gazed out at the silent female members of Unit 121.  She waited another moment, reveling in the control she had over these women who, if they so chose to do, could no doubt kill her with a flick of their wrist.  But they wouldn’t dare.  A small smirk touched her red lips, and after dragging out the silence a moment longer, she finally decided to speak.

 

“I am sure you are all wondering just why training session has been canceled as well as why you are all here,” she began, her gaze flickering out at the females watching her carefully.  “As you may know, your mission begins in a little more than a month.  People from all over the world have subscribed to watch you take on the other Units, fighting until your death for your freedom, just as America fought against England for theirs.  They want to watch you fight, kill, and win.  And they will.  But it is necessary that we get this photo shoot over with and continue on your training because it is imperative you remain sharp.  Remember, a Unit is only as strong as its weakest link.”  Her gaze glanced at the women once again before she arched an inquiring brow.  “Any questions?”

 

At first, Devyn thought that nobody was going to ask anything even though there were hundreds of questions lining up on her tongue, ready to shoot out of her mouth only if she would allow it.  A petite woman with rich, chestnut brown hair that Devyn knew as Miley suddenly rose up her hand so her elbow and arm made a ninety degree angle.  “Permission to speak, Miss?” she asked.

 

Sarah nodded her head.  “Go ahead, 112392,” she allowed.

 

“You say we are doing a photo shoot today?” Miley asked, furrowing her brow.  “I do not understand why that is.”

 

Sarah smiled, as though she had expected such a question to come up, and in all likelihood, she had.  “Of course,” she said, lifting her eyes.  “This photo shoot is going to introduce you to the world.  You will take shots as a whole group, just with the women here, but the majority of shots will be taken with your breeding partner.  People seem to like matches, pairs between members of the opposite sex, and we have no problem with giving it to them.  Poses will be sensual and provocative.  Hopefully, this will get women as well as men interested in watching you do what you do best.”  She inclined her head towards the doors lined up on one side of the room.  “The doors all have your identification numbers on them.  They’re your dressing rooms.  And inside, you will find an outfit picked out for you personally.  Since we have your sizes on record, everything should fit, but if it doesn’t, feel free to say something.  Now I will leave you to get dressed…”

 

Devyn shot Rachel a look before walking into her designated dressing room.  A piece of cloth Devyn could not believe was actually considered suitable clothing was hanging, as though it was waiting just for her.  Rolling her eyes, she quickly changed out of her comfortable clothing and slid on the shortest dress she had ever encountered.  It barely covered her backside, and the cut, while not too low, revealed an ample amount of cleavage.  The cut was heart-shaped while the back was low and squared.  It felt like velvet, but Devyn couldn’t be sure just what the material was made out of.  It was then that she realized there were shoes she was supposed to wear along with the dress, and that was a pair of simple black pumps.  How original.

 

When she walked out, she saw Rachel in a two piece number, revealing a nice portion of her flawless stomach.

 

“These outfits,” Devyn said once she stood next to her friend.  “They’re –“

 

“Hot?” Rachel finished, smiling at herself in the mirror.

 

“Actually, I was going to say exploitive,” Devyn said, wishing she was as comfortable in her own outfit as Rachel seemed to be.

 

Rachel rolled her eyes and turned her head so she looked at Devyn, giving her friend a small smile.  “That’s kind of the point, sweetie,” she replied.  “But look at you.  Honey, you’re hot.  Don’t think about it as a negative connotation.  Shake what you’re mama gave you!”

 

And as the females of Unit 121 began to walk outside, Rachel slapped Devyn’s backside for good luck.

 

--

 

To say Gerard was surprised upon seeing Devyn in her particular garment would no doubt have been an understatement.  He, himself, was simply in a pressed, long-sleeved white collared shirt tucked into black slacks, all of which fit his frame nicely.  Though his Superior, Sam, had suggested he shave, he ended up choosing not to.  Gerard preferred some sort of facial hair on his face; it made him feel a bit more rugged.  His pale green eyes looked up and down as Devyn walked towards him, and he decided she was definitely one of the most beautiful specimens he had ever laid eyes upon.  This was not to say, of course, that he had feelings for her of any sort, but she was definitely a looker.  There was no doubt about that.  Though he did note that she didn’t exactly look pleased to be wearing such ridiculous clothing.

 

It only took a moment before the photographers began to arrange the genotypes into poses – each pair had their own photographer in order to speed up this sort of procedure.  Devyn and Gerard’s wore sunglasses as though they were going out of style, and he had a jutting nose and yellow teeth.  But he seemed to know exactly what he was doing with it came to photographs.  So both Gerard and Devyn bit their tongue and did what he told them to, no matter how uncomfortable that might be.

 

Photograph 1:  Gerard is lying crumpled to the ground, his hands sprawled out and his head cocked to one side, as though he is obviously defeated.  Devyn is placed next to him, one foot on his chest while her hand rested on her hip.  The look in her eyes was cocky, arrogant, and conquering.  (
“Don’t look up my skirt while I’m positioned like this,” Devyn told Gerard.  Gerard didn’t answer.  He simply grinned up at her, a mischievous twinkle occupying his eyes.
)

 

Photograph 2:  Gerard is sitting in a chair, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.  Devyn is sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of him, her long hair over one shoulder, revealing a bare column of her throat.  One of Gerard’s hand rests over her chest, his fingertips barely caressing the beginnings of her breasts.  His other hand is cradling that bare side of her throat.  Devyn’s eyes are closed – submissive – while Gerard’s eyes are focused on the camera, telling everyone looking upon this particular photo that she is his, she has succumbed, and she likes it.  One of Devyn’s arm is hooked around Gerard’s neck, pulling him closer to her, wanting nothing but more.

 

Photograph 3:  This time, the couple is on equal footing (though Gerard is leaning down because of the height discrepancy between them), turned so that they were facing each other.  Her chin is tilted up and his forehead is pressed against hers.  Her fingers are lost in his short hair, pulling him even closer to her as one of his arms possessively loops around her waist so he can grab onto the small of her back.  He pulls up one of her legs so it’s resting against his waist – not around – much like one would find in the tango.  His fingers press into her thigh, gripping her there because he doesn’t want to let her go.  Their eyes are nearly closed and while their mouths are opened and millimeters apart, they aren’t kissing.  Yet. 

 

 

Chapter 10

 

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Gerard asked Devyn the next day during their usual training session.  His eyes scanned her face, looking for any sort of trace that she would lie to him.  After the past couple of weeks, he had gotten to know her better, and as a result, his sharp eyes could almost always tell what was going through her mind during certain situations.  What he was currently garnering from her face was an obvious look of annoyance at his ridiculous question, and an unspoken approval of the silent challenge that passed between them.  His lips twisted up into a grin as he bit his bottom lip and he pushed his brow up.  “All right then.”  He cocked his head to the side and looked at her once again.  “Though, I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t warn you that I’m quite good at what I do.”

 

“Gentlemen are boring,” Devyn said quietly so that only he could hear her, despite the fact that no one was close to them anyways.  The fact that Devyn was speaking to him in a husky voice, as though they shared some sort of secret, caused his pale eyes to darken albeit slightly.

 

“Oh really?” he asked, his voice slightly throaty at her words.  He started jumping up and down, getting the blood to flow through his body, and Devyn followed suit.

 

“Absolutely,” she said with a dark suit.  “One can always expect a gentleman to do certain things, and one of them is not initiating something so obvious between him and a woman.”  She raised an eyebrow, indicating that she was speaking of more than just a hypothetical.  “And they always ask a woman if she’s sure.  I, personally, love it when a guy takes what he wants, no questions asked.  Ambition has always been a turn on for me.”

 

“Has it?” Gerard asked, and though he wanted to pretend that what she said didn’t matter, he couldn’t.  Such a trial would be a façade, because he was truly interested in everything she had to say, especially when she said it in a husky manner.  “Well, then I should probably warn you that I’m as ambitious as they come, so you might end up being distracted with me and my commendable trait rather than the task at hand.”

 

“Trust me,” Devyn told him, a firm look embedded in her eyes, “I’m a very focused woman.”

 

“I know,” he told her, the right corner of his lip curling into a smile that reflected his knowledge.  “A gentleman would go easy on you despite the fact that you’re still recovering from previous injuries, would he?” 

 

“A gentleman wouldn’t be doing this in the first place,” she told him.  Though she wasn’t bouncing up and down, she kept on her toes, bouncing her weight from one foot to the other.  “Someone who’s only interested in sabotaging my success would go easy on me.  But you, you
want
to give me your best.  You
want
to make it difficult for me.  Don’t deny that you don’t.”

 

“Oh, I would never,” Gerard told her, shaking his head at such a ridiculous idea.  “No, you’re right.  I want this.  Very badly, I might add.  I cannot wait to knock you off your feet and have you pinned to the ground underneath me, feeling your body struggling against me.  But I should warn you, I won’t let you up.  Not until your surrender.”

 

“I don’t blame you,” Devyn said, thrusting a hip out and resting her hand on it as she narrowed her eyes in his direction.  “The only way you will ever get me underneath you would be to fight me for it.”

 

“Once you’re there, you’ll be begging me to do it again and again,” he told her.

 

“Is that so?” she asked him.

 

“It is,” Gerard said, nodding his head to indicate that he was certain of that fact.

 

“Well, we’ll see, won’t we?”  She felt her body go rigid, returning to her toes as she brought her hands up, coiling her fingers into fists.

 

“Yes, we will,” Gerard agreed, getting his body into a similar position.  “On your count then.”

 

Devyn was going to make another retort about gentlemen once again, but something inside of her refrained.  Somehow, Gerard wore Gentleman quite well.  Instead, she nodded once.  “Okay,” she agreed.  “One… two… three.”

 

Immediately, the two backed away from each other, but they kept their gazes locked, neither one of them wavering.  They both wondered just who it would be to take the first blow, to give it.  Devyn kept her hands curled up to her face tightly, making sure she was protected.  She rarely ever gave the first punch because she knew she wasn’t as fast as the others, but she was one hell of a defender.  They circled each other, outlining their small perimeter without knowing they were doing so.

 

Gerard’s patience was waning, and despite everything Devyn had said about gentlemen, he wanted to wait for her to get the first shot in.  However, she was keeping her arms close to her body as though she was waiting for him to make the first move.  After another moment of waiting, he decided to do just that.  He needed to get this fight going, needed to see if she was really good as she believed herself to be.  Plus, he really was looking forward to having her pinned underneath him…

 

And so, he pulled his weight on his back leg before lunging forward, prepared to strike.

 

--

 

“So why aren’t you training with Gerard?” Rachel asked after seeing Hugh saunter over to her, a familiar devilish glint shining in his eyes.

 

“He wanted to teach Devyn some moves,” he told her in his silky English accent.  He nudged Rachel’s shoulder and then lifted his finger, pointing at Gerard and Devyn.

 

“Oh my God,” Rachel said, taking a couple of steps toward the fighting couple.  “He could kill her.”

 

Hugh pursed his lips together, looking at Rachel with obvious doubt in his eyes.  “You give her no credit,” he told her playfully.

 

“No, I do,” Rachel said, turning her head so she could lock eyes with Hugh.  “She’s the best out of all of us – females, I mean.  And I definitely don’t deny that.  But let’s face it; Gerard is a lot stronger than she is, and one punch to her mouth would leave her toothless for the rest of her life.”  Something caused her to pause and a mischievous smirk littered her face.  “Although, if she lifted her shirt, she might be able to distract him long enough to get him on his back.”

 

“Actually, Gerard is going to get your friend on her back,” Hugh said with an arrogant grin.

 

“Oh really?” Rachel asked in slight disbelief.  “Are you willing to put money on that then?”

 

Before Hugh could answer, Miley and her training partner Eve reached the couple, the women’s eyes on Devyn and Gerard.  “Hey, you guys,” Miley said, addressing Rachel and Hugh but keeping her eyes focused on Devyn and Gerard.  “What’s going on?”

 

“Just taking bets, actually,” Hugh said quickly before Rachel could answer.  “In one corner, we have the raging Scot, Gerard, or 111369, hailing all the way from Glasgow.  In the other corner, his breeding partner, the Blonde Bombshell, Devyn, or 113089!  I’m taking bets in the next two minutes if you want to get in on this.”

 

“We don’t have money,” Eve stated flatly, turning her head so she was looking at Hugh with a dry expression.

 

“Ah, but I didn’t actually say money was a necessity to place a wager,” Hugh said, sticking his index finger up as though he had just had an epiphany.  “Anything you can offer would be taken into consideration and most likely approved.  Of course, no sexual favors.  I am quite satisfied in that area.”  He winked at Rachel, who rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from touching her face if she tried.

 

Sooner rather than later, a crowd had gathered and formed a crescent moon around the couple, watching them intently.  Some shouted, some cheered, but everyone’s attention was on the two.  Gerard and Devyn barely even registered that they had an audience; their main focus was on each other.  Both had gotten good hits on the other, both had dodged punches, and both were getting tired.  However, both were stubborn enough to refuse to give up, and as a result, both were bleeding and breathing raggedly, but both were still standing.

 

It wasn’t until Gerard did some kind of fake out did Devyn find herself on her back, pinned underneath Gerard’s body, just like he promised.  His legs were hooked around her sides, ensuring she couldn’t wiggle free from underneath him.  He smirked down at her, placing both hands on either side of her head, trapping her.

 

“A man of my word,” he said, as though it was the most obvious thing.

 

“Really?” Devyn asked before reaching up and socking Gerard across the face. 

 

Though the punch didn’t exact hurt him, his surprise caused him to fumble, and Devyn took her chance to slip out from his body and push him on his back.  The females from Unit 121 cheered at the unexpected turn of events, and Gerard, though he knew his pride should feel wounded, couldn’t help but smile slightly.

 

She had got him, and got him good. 

 

 

BOOK: Battlefield
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