MERCURY STRIKING
The Scorpius Syndrome #1
Rebecca Zanetti
Releasing on January 26, 2016
Zebra
With nothing but rumors to lead her, Lynne Harmony has
trekked across a nightmare landscape to find one man—a mysterious, damaged
legend who protects the weak and leads the strong. He’s more than muscle and
firepower—and in post-plague L.A., he’s her only hope. As the one woman who
could cure the disease, Lynne is the single most volatile—and
vulnerable—creature in this new and ruthless world. But face to face with Jax
Mercury…
Danger has never
looked quite so delicious…
Slowly,
like prey, she rolled over to face Jax Mercury, bare chested, cascading heat. A
jagged tattoo made up of complicated lines and sharp edges wound over his left
shoulder. She could make out a 20 in the center, covered and crossed over by
lines. A special ops tat with a 44 in it shifted in the muscle on his left arm.
A military designation of some type? “You promised,” she whispered.
He opened one brown eye. “I’m not
attacking you, am I?”
“Well, no.” She inhaled, trying to
slow her heart rate before a panic attack swamped her. She eyed him, tousled
and relaxed. His right bicep held a tattoo with sharp lines, a shield, and the
word Vanguard written
through a heart. A dark lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, and a
bristly shadow covered his square jaw, giving him the look of a lazy panther.
Panthers didn’t really get lazy, now
did they?
He sighed and reached for the
comforter, frowning when she flinched. Sighing, he pulled up the threadbare
fabric to her neck, covering her completely.
“I need to know what I’m dealin’
with here, darlin’,” he rumbled, opening both eyes and focusing on her.
She curled her knees up toward her
chest, hitting his hip bone on the way. “What do you mean?”
His gaze roamed her face, lingered
on her lips, and returned to her eyes. “The world turned shitty-times-ten for
women without the ability to fight.”
She blinked. “I know.” Predators
always found the weak.
“What really happened when you
disappeared from the CDC? Kidnapping or escape?” he asked.
Apparently the questioning would
begin in bed. She tried to move back, but the wall stopped her. “I’d rather
discuss this later while clothed.”
“That’s unfortunate, because we’re
discussing it now.” His tone remained gentle.
She’d have to crawl over him to get
to the floor, and no way was she getting in a tussle in bed with him. “I
escaped.”
“Three months ago.”
“Yes.” She plucked at a string on
the comforter. “The contagion spread, and soon the people in control weren’t
the people who should be in control. I ran.”
He nodded. “Right about that time,
the news stopped.”
So many people had succumbed to the
illness, the world had seemed to stop. “I know.”
“Where have you been for three
months?”
She tightened her jaw to keep her
lips from trembling.
“Before the Internet crashed, the
battles in L.A. were broadcast continually. I saw you fight, and I later read
about the group you’ve formed here. Even the worst of the worst know not to
come within five miles of inner Los Angeles, or they face the wrath of Jax
Mercury.”
He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Those
reports were exaggerated.”
“Of course.” She rubbed sleep from
her eyes, her heart rate finally slowing. “The remaining doctors at the CDC
tried to contain me, but I got loose. I knew I needed to get here, that with
your vitamin B stores and fighting troops, maybe I could be safe and help find
a cure.” That wasn’t the whole story. But she couldn’t trust him with it yet.
“Did you meet trouble on the way?”
“Of course.” There was always
trouble, and she’d seen too much. “But I made it here.”
He touched her cheek. “Did anybody
hurt you?”
She frowned. Oh. “No. I traveled
with my uncle Bruce, who was a hell of a cop in his day. He helped me to break
out of the CDC—the center we created in the nation’s capital the second
Scorpius got out of hand.”
“Wasn’t the CDC branch in DC just
policy oriented?”
“Yes, but we took over a hospital
and started researching there, and once I was better, I worked there. It was
supposed to be temporary, but as you know, everything happened so quickly, so
we never returned to the main CDC hospital in Atlanta.”
Her uncle Bruce had visited her many
times in the hospital, and when it became evident that several of the CDC
doctors had been infected and were considering making Lynne a prisoner, he’d
come up with a plan to get her out. “He posed as a lab technician to get me out
of the facility, and then he had an elaborate scheme that included three
stairwells, one secured lab, and finally a row of windows.” She smiled and then
faltered. “We’d been on the run for months, and he’d taken great pains to
protect me. He died a month ago.” The pain was fresh and almost doubled her
over. She’d lost so many family members and friends, as had any survivor. God,
it hurt.
“I’m sorry.” Jax ran a knuckle
across her chin. “Scorpius?” It’d be easy to just nod and lie. “No. Bruce was
killed by one of the groups seeking me. Many people still are hunting me,
believing I either started the apocalypse on purpose or I have knowledge about
a cure.”
She had knowledge about Myriad but
no cure. “After my uncle’s death, I continued my search for you and safety, meeting
stragglers on the way and staying away from most encampments. Foraged for food
when I could.” Of course they were hunting her now. It was amazing she’d
survived, considering she could trip over a smooth floor, she was such a klutz.
Her former lack of grace was the
least of her worries. At some point, she’d need to tell Mercury everything,
especially if he wouldn’t let her out of the room. But not now, and definitely
not while in such a vulnerable position. “I haven’t been attacked, Jax.”
“Good.” His smile seemed almost
sinful. “Then you can relax here in our bed and not flinch when I pull up the
covers.”
Heat flared through her. Our
bed? “Oh, hell no. I’m not sharing a bed with
you.”
He glanced at her, at the bed, down
at his chest, and then back at her. “I believe you are.”
She shoved him. “Absolutely not.”
When he didn’t move or respond, she coughed out air. “Why? Why would you want
to share a bed?”
He sighed. “It’s not personal.
You’re a danger to people, and some of them might be a danger to you. So you
stay with me, under guard, where I can protect everybody.” He pointed to the
stacked locks on the door, which she’d failed to study the day before. The door
was metal, huge, and obviously not native to the building. “There are locks on
both sides, and I have all the keys. One of us could take the couch, but
frankly, it sucks.”
What should’ve been the worst
come-on she’d ever heard actually sounded like the truth. It was a pretty cage,
but a cage nonetheless. She needed freedom. “I want my own place.”
“You’re not safe, and I can’t have
guards on you twenty-four
seven.
Sometimes it’s just me, and I need sleep. So you sleep when I sleep, and
everybody stays safe. Period.” He stretched an arm above his head, showing that
amazingly cut chest. “Like I said, I won’t force you. You want the couch? It’s
yours.”
She eyed the cold-looking, rather
worn pleather. It was a freakin’ luxury compared to sleeping on the hard
ground, but even so, now she’d had a taste of a real bed again . . . “A
gentleman would give me the bed.”
He scratched the stubble next to his
scar. “All the gentlemen are dead, baby. Soldiers and survivors are what we
have now.”
She pushed up to one elbow,
discreetly eyeing the locks on the door before studying him. “How dangerous is
it here for me?”
“Very.” His eyes darkened from
bourbon to Guinness. “We have many who haven’t been infected, and you are a
carrier.”
“Anybody who survived the fever is a
carrier.”
“As you know, there are rumors that
you carry a new strain of the disease.”
More lies meant to force her away
from other people. “We already discussed that. Either you believe me or you
don’t,” she whispered.
His expression didn’t gentle. “There
are so many rumors and ghost stories out there; I don’t pay attention to them.”
She swallowed, her throat clogging.
“Good. There is no new strain of the bacterial infection. I’m no different from
anybody else who’s survived Scorpius.”
“You’re the only one with a blue
heart.”
“I know. I was infected with the
main strain, and then we used one of the many experiments to save my life,
turning my heart blue. We were never able to duplicate the exact concoction
again, although since it didn’t cure me, I’m not sure it matters.”
“You’re different. How can it not
matter?”
She sighed. “My heart is blue, as
are a few veins around it. I have both photosphores and chromatophores in my
heart, which without the initial bacterial infection would be impossible.
Squids and octopi have the same materials, essentially, and they can turn
different colors—usually blue.”
“So you have squid genes?” His brows
furrowed, and his gaze pierced her.
She snorted. “Not exactly, but close
enough.”
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USA Today Bestselling author Rebecca Zanetti has
worked as an art curator, Senate aide, lawyer, college professor, and a hearing
examiner - only to culminate it all in stories about Alpha males and the women
who claim them. She writes contemporary romances, dark paranormal romances, and
romantic suspense novels.
Growing up amid the glorious backdrops and winter
wonderlands of the Pacific Northwest has given Rebecca fantastic scenery and
adventures to weave into her stories. She resides in the wild north with her
husband, children, and extended family who inspire her every day—or at the very
least give her plenty of characters to write about.
1 comment:
Thank you for hosting MERCURY STRIKING today!
Crystal, Tasty Book Tours
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