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  Commander

  Zodiac Dragon Guardians, Book IX

  Kim Faulks

  Illustrated by

  Jacqueline Sweet

  Copyright © 2017 by Kim Faulks

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For my readers.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Introduction

  Also by Kim Faulks

  1. Samson

  2. Samson

  3. Samson

  4. Annabelle

  5. Samson

  6. Annabelle

  7. Samson

  8. Annabelle

  9. Samson

  10. Samson

  11. Samson

  12. Samson

  13. Annabelle

  14. Samson

  Pisces

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to a few people. To Jacqueline for another amazing cover. You exceed my expectations. To my proofreader, Sue. Thank you for jumping on board with this one. I threw you in the deep end, that’s for sure, and Diane, my alpha reader. You are amazing, every time. Thank you for all your help. Lastly to God. Thanks for being there, thanks for listening, thanks for the small reminders.

  Commander

  Zodiac Dragon Guardians

  Book Nine

  By Kim Faulks

  Commander Samson Marks has stepped into the middle of a battle.

  One he never signed up for, but one he cannot ignore.

  In the wake of the attack on the compound, he comes face to face with the enemy—traitors to everything he knows—the Marine Corps.

  Only they’re not quite the enemy he expected.

  The rebel, Darrion Slater, a.k.a Alpha, hands him a file and shows him the truth—and what he finds within the pages shocks him to the core.

  He’s on a mission now, to not only right the wrongs he can, but to stand shoulder to shoulder with the outcasts, with the loners…with the Guardians.

  He’ll be the kind of man who might buckle—but won’t break.

  The kind who’ll protect a Queen of the Vampires in the midst of a vicious attack

  …even if it almost kills him…

  And he’ll be the kind of man who finds truth in surviving, a truth he never wanted to face, and redemption in the eyes of an immortal.

  Annabelle is a first-circle warrior to the Shadistin Vampire Queen. She has one purpose—to kill, and apart from defensive blows of her victims, no one’s touched her in hundreds of years.

  Until a dying mortal reaches for her hand.

  She’ll stay there. She’ll give the Commander what little comfort her cold Vampire soul can afford and, when he opens his eyes, he’ll see her for what she really is.

  His salvation.

  His redemption

  His Vampire in command.

  This is a 40,000 word short novel that takes place between Ace and Pisces.

  ALSO BY KIM FAULKS

  The Zodiac Dragon Guardians

  Taurus - Book 1

  Aquarius - Book 2

  Cancer - Book 3

  A Roaring Fire - Christmas novella

  Aries - Book 4

  Alpha - Book 5

  Virgo - Book 6

  Sagittarius - Book 7

  Ace - Book 8

  The Submissively Ever After Series (Dark Fairytale Retellings)

  Beast

  Gretel

  Vampire Blood Courtesan Romance

  Bitten - Book 1

  Taken - Book 2

  Resurrected - Book 3

  The Fire and Ice Series

  Reclaimed - Book 1

  Seductive Sands - Book 2

  Enslaved - Book 3

  Emergence - Book 4

  Yesterday’s Ashes - Book 5

  The Underworld Coven

  Part 1

  Part 2

  DARK FANTASY

  End of Dreams

  Secrets Room

  Hells Angel

  1

  Samson

  “This isn’t working.”

  I turned at the tortured moan from Alpha and raised a brow. “You think? What the Hell gave you that idea?”

  “Fuck this,” came the snarl from behind the wall of bodies. “Let’s see what you got, furball.”

  “Yeah!” The crowd roared. Fists punched the air, and the bitter stench of sweat mingled with excitement.

  The sickening sounds of fists on flesh followed, the blows a symphony of grunts and cracks.

  “Come on, Stagers! You got him. Don’t let him beat ya!”

  The gasp of air was followed with a gag, and then a wretch loud enough to turn my stomach. But there was no stopping the men, not if it meant pain, not if it meant winning.

  A heavy thud cracked. I winced at the blow.

  The wall of bodies trembled. One of the men stumbled backwards. Blood splatter covered his face. He raised a hand, swiped his cheek with a fist, and pushed in. “Don’t give up…do not quit, Marine!”

  Money changed hands so fast I could barely keep up.

  Odds were set, then changed—going downhill fast.

  “No!” the clear snarl came from behind the wall of buff bodies sheathed in sweat. “I think I got him. I think I—”

  The roar of a shifter preceded a sight no commander wanted to see, two hundred and fifty pounds of pure Marine muscle launched into the air. Eyes stretched wide, arms and legs flailing in spectacular fashion before my man hit the ground—hard.

  “I give you a three for dismount. Better than Harvey,” one of the men called to a chorus of cheers and boos.

  “Fuck you!” Harvey yelled.

  I found Harvey, still in the same place where he landed five seconds ago, nursing the graze on his head and his ass-kicked pride. He lifted his gaze, met mine. There was torture, actual goddamn torture in his eyes. “It was worth at least a five.”

  “How many days is it going to take?” Alpha murmured and shot me a look of utter embarrassment. “Or are your men unusually slow with these things?”

  I clamped down on the sides of my mouth, watching the shifter brush the ‘stink of human misery’ from his skin before I scratched my beard and mumbled. “It’ll take as long as it takes.”

  “Next!” The shifter roared as he extended his neck and flexed his bicep. “Who the Hell is next?”

  “I’ll go.”

  I glanced toward the man mountain and cringed. Terror was exactly what the name implied. He was lighter, and shorter, than the last man, but the unhinged promise of pure brutality in his eyes made up for it.

  I glanced to his knee…there wasn’t even a limp—not anymore.

  Days ago, this Marine was on his back, sweating, crying like a damn child. A career-shattering injury—he was told…a life-ending injury for a Marine.

  Scars criss-crossed under and over his knee…the hack of a surgeon’s blade still fresh from mere months ago.

  The skin was now smooth and pink…but it hadn’t been yesterday. Yesterday it was red, angry…infected. Yesterday Terror gripped his leg and screamed in agony.

  Yesterday he was sweating, savage…and yesterday he confined himself to Alpha’s house—with only one visitor…a woman who’d slipped into the compound without my knowing—Doctor Angel Leigh.

  “Holy shit,” the call cut through. “Five to one on Terror.”

  “Look at him. I’ll take that bet. But I’ll make it six…six to one,” another called and the calls and shouts of sixty Marines followed.

  I winced at the sound and watched the vicious bastard carve a path through the platoon to stand in
side the ring. He bounced on the balls of his feet without a flinch of pain.

  The Doctor injected him. I saw the used syringes, saw the empty glass bottle and the label with nothing more than a batch number printed on the side.

  This wasn’t any damn painkiller, or any steroids. It wasn’t anything I knew. My Marine snuck behind my back, as did the Doctor…I turned my head and stared at the former Marine beside me—and Alpha.

  I swallowed the bitter sting—time and place…time and damn place.

  If they thought this was over, then they were very much mistaken. It wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

  The thin male shifter looked at his nails, and then sighed and raised his gaze. “Come on then, Tumor.”

  The Marine’s top lip curled in a sneer. “It’s Terror.”

  “Terror, Tumor,” the shifter huffed and set his sights on the towering male. “All the same to me.”

  I turned from the chaos.

  Let them have their fun…and they have…days and days of it.

  The first two had been the hardest. Suspicion, confusion mixed with downright fear. I looked away from the fight, swallowed hard…and again, finding the gaze of one of my men as he lifted his head. He grinned, and waited for some kind of reaction. I forced a smile and gave a nod. They were no better than kids, looking to me to keep the course.

  My fingers trembled with the shake. I clenched a fist and found my pocket.

  Keep it together, until this goddamn mess starts to make sense.

  A distraction. That’s what I needed…it’s what we all needed.

  Silence wasn’t my friend, and the nights my damn enemy.

  Most of these men had never seen a shifter in their life, let alone bunked with one. And that’s exactly what I was asking them to do. Bunk, eat, train, and goddamn lose at wrestling if needed be.

  Slowly, suspicion on both sides gave way to intrigue, and then, like most fuel-driven, testosterone-laced, adrenaline junkies with both skin and fur, bets on who was the better fighter began.

  And still continued, by the looks of things, while I scanned through hundreds of files Alpha sent me, and slowly realized how deep this vein of corruption went.

  The files sickened me.

  More than sickened me…there was no word I could fathom…only a feeling raged—guilt, and horror festered in the pit of my stomach like a goddamn disease. I reached for the nape of my neck and kneaded the corded muscles.

  I hadn’t slept, not since that first day…not since I saw Private First Class Helsey’s name in the middle of that goddamn file, and all the demons of my past closed in.

  I knew that kid…had known that kid.

  I was the one who’d sent his squad on a recon mission. One he never came back from. I was told the body was dismembered—I was told a lie.

  There was no failed mission—no insurgent attack. There was only us…the military—using men like Helsey. Men with no family—men with no one to stand up and ask the hard questions.

  Why?

  The more I stared at the pages—the more I saw the depths of depravity. The tests…the countless damn tests and terror as his brain buckled under the strain.

  They’d been trying to turn a man into a shifter—one they could control.

  All they managed to do was create a monster.

  A mindless abhorration that ultimately failed.

  I lifted my head to the sea of khaki green. Because men and women like us…my men, my women…my goddamn Marines—Hell, we just weren’t the right fucking fit.

  We fought their wars.

  We bled when they commanded.

  We followed their fucking orders, but not at the detriment of mankind.

  And that’s exactly what these hybrid things were here—the savage snarl of the shifter was swallowed by the roar of my men.

  They were killing humans.

  They were killing shifters.

  And replacing us with something that required no mind—and needed no skill. They had fangs and claws, and a mindless need to kill. They needed nothing more.

  Terror grunted, and snarled. The sickening sounds of fists on flesh echoed until Husky broke the circle surrounding the fight, careening backwards to slam into another of the crew.

  My men crowded in as the shifter stumbled through the break in the wall of Marines. His arms swung, eyes widening, as Terror closed in.

  The attack was fast and brutal. The Marine a weapon, honed to the finest edge. He swung, moved, and attacked in a barrage of fists and kicks worthy of any MMA fighters’ ring.

  I stepped away from the battle and turned to Alpha, the former Marine at my side. The deal was done—the battle all but over—in there…but out here…that was a different matter altogether.

  Pride shone in Alpha’s eyes, with a mixture of sadness—the kind you felt when you saw an ex-love and relived those perfect moments you’d once had.

  He loved the Corps. He loved the command.

  It’s what he was born to do—just like me.

  And yet here we both were, on the fringe of creating our own army—our own army of Marines and shifters…

  The bang of a screen door slammed. A shifter…Helen, if I remember correctly, dismounted the patio with two smooth steps. Her eyes flashed silver as she set her sights on me. My stomach clenched, pulse quickened.

  “I want him out of my house. I want them all out of my goddamn house!”

  Alpha raised his hand. The man had a certain kind of courage I respected. “Hold on…hold the fuck on…first of all, we can’t. You know we can’t.” Her lips curled, revealing long white fangs—but that didn’t seem to worry the brother as he continued. “There aren’t enough houses. We’re working double-time to fix that, but until then everyone, and I mean everyone, Helen, has an allocation they must accommodate.”

  “I didn’t mean it,” Leon stumbled after her with a pair of tongs in his hand. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it.”

  “He cooked all the steak,” she growled. “All the fucking steak. What the Hell am I gonna eat now?”

  “We’ll get you more. Hell, there’s a fridge full in my joint—help yourself. I’ll send the boys out hunting again…for the fourth time today.”

  Helen’s chest rose with a rush of breath. She moved her focus, fixing on me. “Fine…fine…” She spun and set her sights on Leon. “But you scratch me between the ears one more freaking time, I’ll eat your liver…and then I’ll eat the rest of you.”

  Leon jerked his head upwards. Olive skin paled. He swallowed hard, his husky voice turned raw. “Thought it was a joke…thought it was funny.”

  Helen growled and dropped her hands to her sides as Alpha nodded in her direction. “Not to her, it wasn’t. You gotta learn respect. Helen here isn’t your buddy, and she sure as Hell isn’t your team. She comes with a lifetime of battles you couldn’t begin to imagine, and the only way this alliance of ours is going to work, is by you stepping outside your own damn skin and seeing her—really seeing her.”

  Leon turned to take in the slim, young woman with honey-blonde hair and stilled. He dropped the tongs to his side.

  “You ruined her food,” Alpha chided. “Food to her means survival. She can live without shelter, she’s done it for years. But food is the one thing that drives her from the moment she wakes up, to the second she goes to sleep…food…survival—both go hand in hand—and in a second you took that away from her. You backed her into a corner—one you don’t ever want to back a shifter into, not if you want to survive. So, her survival comes down to eating—yours comes down to respect, and it’s about time you understood that.”

  The fight behind us was quiet. I didn’t have to turn my head to see all eyes were on this man.

  “So, how can we fix this?” Alpha encouraged, taking a step closer to the pair as they stared at each other. “How can we survive together and face the real enemy, and know the man, woman, or shifter standing next to us will have our back?”

  Silence filled the air.

 
; “We focus on a common goal, we set targets—and we hit those targets. Look smart, Marine…focus, Helen. Survive…that’s our purpose—that’s our goal. Cooked meat, or not. Confined quarters or not. You think this Shadow Government, or whoever the fuck is trying to kill us this week, will care about any of that when they come?”

  There was no answer.

  “You think we’ll even know them when they do? We’re fighting an enemy we can’t see, we can’t smell—we won’t know until they’re at our door. There is no race, there is no color…there is nothing but their insatiable drive to kill us—and our will to live.”

  I was greeted with a battle cry worthy of a commendation.

  “Yeah!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Fuck yeah, that’s what we live for, boys!”

  “So, survival, yeah?” Alpha growled, sounding like the shifters he protected. “Our survival.”

  Leon nodded and held out his hand. Helen looked down, and then slowly lifted her own, palms clasped, broken fences mended.

  “Now! Who the fuck wants to arm-wrestle!” One of my men called out from the crowd, and my stomach sank.

  Jesus, they never learn. Alpha grinned and shook his head—what a way to steal his thunder.

  The low drone of a jackhammer in the distance snagged my focus. I turned to stare through the sparse pine trees to the eight-foot fence on the far side of the property. The steel mesh was covered. Signs stuck to the front warned trespassers were not welcome. But the top of the old lodge towered over everything, blending in with the green and the brown.