Powerless: The Borders War, #3

By S.A. McAuley

He was built to be invincible.

Merq and Armise return to the States after their mission to assassinate the remaining Committee members only to find the leadership of the Revolution isn’t as stable as they had thought.

Outside forces come crashing down on a Revolution stronghold, leaving two of their soldiers gravely wounded. Merq’s history with his brothers in arms Simion and Neveed forces him into making decisions that will impact his future with the Revolution.

Merq has always identified as a soldier first. Always known who deserved his loyalty and who didn’t. But with the uncertainty surrounding the leadership of the Revolution, the mysterious disappearance of the jacquerie and increased activity with the PsychHAgs, Merq knows there are few people he can trust.

The only man Merq wants or needs at his side is Armise Darcan. But his reliance on his former enemy may be a miscalculation that will threaten everything Merq stands for.

Reader Advisory: This book contains reference to genetic experimentation on children and mentions of suicide.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.A. McAuley, LLC
• Release date: Apr 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386543893

S.A. McAuley

I sleep little, read a lot. Happiest in a foreign country. Twitchy when not mentally in motion. My name is Sam, not Sammy, definitely not Samantha. I’m a pretty dark/cynical/jaded person, but I hide that darkness well behind my obsession(s) for shiny objects. I’m the macabre wrapped in irresistible bubble wrap and a glittery pink bow, I suppose.

Book preview

1

January 2559

Merq Grayson’s 35th year

The Continental States

---

I was ambushed the second I walked into the bunker control room after five months away.

Chen’s arms closed around me before the door clicked shut. I found my arms snaking around her shoulders without thought, holding her diminutive frame against my stomach. Her long black hair was pulled back in a braid with wisps of bright white and gold woven through it instead of the splashes of color that had been there when I’d left.

She stepped out of my hold and slapped my stomach as she pointed an accusatory finger at me.

You owe me twenty-two lessons.

I counted back the weeks in my head. At one history lesson per week, me being out on the mission since August, and with it now being January…. Twenty-two lessons sounded just about right.

Don’t even bother doing the math, Merq. I’m right. Her eyes were bright.

Doesn’t matter if you are. I don’t know if I know enough history to fill that many hours.

I have something to show you, Chen said as she clapped. I’d never seen her look more childlike.

I tipped my head in question. You cracked another piece of the infochip.

She laughed—a high, light sound that I would’ve never imagined could come from her. Later. You have no idea. She bounced away from me, raising her bank of BC5 screens from her desktop with a dramatic flourish. She plopped down into her seat, her features immediately setting into the much more familiar mask of calculation and concentration that made her appear years older.

History is your thing then. Armise’s voice came from behind me.

We’d barely spoken on the hours-long ride home. But his presence next to me was more normal than not at this point. Yeah. I pointedly ignored the questioning look he gave me. Now was definitely not the time to get into the weekly lessons I’d been giving Chen for years—trading my limited knowledge of world history and mythology for scraps of information she was able to rip off the infochip.

Welcome back, Grayson, Neveed greeted me. He clasped my hand in his, pulling me close. But the smile on his face never reached his eyes.

When Armise and I’d left, Neveed had been thin—sunken even—the stress of the initial press of the war and the loss of troops wearing him down, as if the health of his body and the resilience of his soul was tethered to that of the cause. But the man in front of me now was strong. Confident and in control. His midnight-black hair was slicked out of his face. The longer pieces curled behind his ears, growing back in thick waves from the shave job he’d done to it when he expected me to die in the Olympic stadium. His golden-brown eyes were clear—perhaps dangerously focused was a more appropriate term. He was no longer skinny or on the verge of collapsing into himself.

It was good to see that the president’s second-in-command was unquestionably back in control of himself—the Revolution needed him to be unflappable. But there was a callous, detached air in the set of his shoulders. The way he surveyed the control room—as if the occupants were assets to be inventoried, not human beings—concerned me almost as much.

I addressed Neveed since he was clearly the man in charge at the moment. You say that as if I had the choice. Where’s the president?

And just like that, his already limited pretense of warmth was gone.

In protective custody, Neveed said. He set his hands on his hips and widened his stance in a classic defensive posture that was supposed to assert authority.

But I knew him too well, too intimately, to be either fooled or intimidated by the show. So he’s not here? I pressed.

I can’t tell you that. Neveed tipped up his chin and sneered.

He didn’t have to glance at Armise for me to know exactly why he was refusing to let me in on where the president was holed up.

This? Again? I gritted out, making the conscious decision not to raise my voice. While I may have had issues with Neveed, that didn’t mean he was a bad leader. And with the president under threat, the Revolution needed leadership they could believe in. I wouldn’t let him go unchallenged, but I wouldn’t be the one bringing him down in front of the lower-ranking forces. I was pretty sure he’d do that himself at some point. I glared at him. You’re refusing to let Armise into your trust after five fucking months of laying his ass on the line just as much as I did?

Neveed still couldn’t look at Armise. The president may want him here but I don’t. I don’t trust him.

Armise stepped into Neveed’s space, crowding him, his face only inches away. You think you will ever have the balls to look me in the eye when you say that? General? he added with a twist of his lip.

I crossed my arms and made it clear I wasn’t going to get between Armise and Neveed if this went any further. Instead I took one step closer, standing next to Armise as I leaned in so only Armise and Neveed would hear what I was saying.

I’ve always followed orders. Your orders for many of those years. At one time we were friends. You would think you’d have more respect for that.

Neveed’s nostrils flared. You don’t know the whole story.

I looked to Armise, not even having to spend one second searching his reaction to know the truth of everything between us. I trusted Armise because he had earned that trust from me through words and action. And while Neveed believed he could still manipulate me when it came to Armise, I’d seen through his bullshit so long ago that his taunts no longer held power over me.

How fucking sure of that are you? I whispered to Neveed.

Neveed’s eyes widened and he retreated, fury sharpening his features. If you do, then I need to keep the president away from you, too.

Call me when you have an actual job for Armise and me, I spat back at him. I’m taking a fucking hot shower.

At least I didn’t have to storm out of the room by myself. Armise was already ahead of me, his muscles tense as he held the door. He eyed Neveed, who was shaking, trying—and failing—to contain a visible show of anger.

I restrained the urge to slam the control room door closed and headed down the hallway to where the residential quarters were located.

I waited at the threshold to our quarters for Armise, allowing him to enter before me, much like that first day in the bunker when he’d told me that perception mattered. More than time had elapsed between that August day and now, though. Armise didn’t hesitate this time.

I need to see the president, I grumbled as I flipped the lock and shut the rest of the bunker out of our room. I began to strip down, unlacing my boots and setting them to the side.

Armise shook his head. I do not think your general is going to allow that to happen. At least not while I’m here.

I went into the en suite and turned on the shower to the hottest temperature possible then walked back out and faced Armise. Forget Neveed Niaz. I’m not here for him.

Let’s stop bullshitting each other. We are wasting time by being here. There are nine more Committee members to be taken out and Ahriman Blanc. I know the president thinks he needs you here, but he doesn’t. His security team is more than capable.

You saw what happened to Simion. He was one of the president’s best. And Jegs is questionable because of her brother, Grimshaw. I owe him this.

Such bullshit, Armise grumbled.

My duty to the president was more unassailable than my recent revelation that Armise may deserve the same level of allegiance. I seethed—there was no other word for it. Maybe you should save your opinions for something you actually know about.

Maybe you should open your eyes, Merq. I am the only one in this place who has your best interests in mind. I am loyal to you and we stand together in this. You owe me, not him.

I stopped with my fingers at the top button of my pants and my head snapped up. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Armise pointed at me. Your president is the one who sends you out on missions to be killed. I am the one who makes sure you make it out alive. I know you believe in the Revolution. Otherwise you wouldn’t be following the president so fucking blindly. But Ahriman is the key here. No one else. We have to go through the Committee members and get to him.

I shook my head and continued to strip. We have to be methodical about this, not emotional. If we get to Ahriman before eliminating the others, someone else will just rise up to take his place.

Armise stood stock-still, his arms crossed, staring me down.

And that was when I had the sickening thought that maybe Neveed had been right about me not knowing the whole story. Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something from me?

Because I am, he answered without hesitation.

I narrowed my eyes. About what exactly?

Armise ground his teeth together then answered, I am Ahriman’s number two. He dies and I’m set to take over as the leader of the Opposition.

I probably should’ve been pissed off—furious even—that he’d hidden his role in the Opposition leadership from me, but a wave of relief washed over me.

I pointed at him. You are Ahriman’s second-in-command?

Yes.

Always have been?

Armise shrugged. For the last five years or so.

And that’s what Neveed is flipping the fuck out about?

Likely.

Well shit. Then that means we kill Ahriman, you take over and the war is done. Why the fuck are we wasting time on any of the Committee members?

Because you and I take Ahriman without killing them first and there will be an immediate coup attempt. Not to mention—

I scrubbed a hand through my hair. It’s never fucking that simple. Of course. What else?

Pretty sure that while I used to be Ahriman’s next in the chain of command, that position has been given to someone else.

Is that why he needs you back alive?

Armise shook his head, his forehead creasing. No. There is something else.

And you don’t know what it is?

I have my suspicions.

Any of those suspicions have to do with a modification that could shield something in your body?

What do you know that I do not? Armise answered, his voice dipping low, reverberating from his chest.

Dr. Casas—Feliu, the president’s doctor who removed our chips—said he thinks there’s something being shielded inside your body.

And this is just coming up? Armise growled at me.

I arched an eyebrow. Like you being Ahriman’s second-in-command?

Armise cracked his neck and eased. Granted. Now what exactly did Dr. Casas tell you?

That there was a slight mechanical hitch during your scan when we transported in from the stadium. He doesn’t know what it is, but his intuition is telling him something is off.

Armise started to pace, the muscle in his jaw ticking. We have to go after Ahriman. Now.

If you’re with me then this is where we stay. We make sure the president survives whatever the Opposition is planning for him then go after the Committee members. You said it yourself, they have to be first. Ahriman’s trying to lure you back to Singapore. He’s using you for something.

Armise’s head snapped up, hands balled into fists. Exactly my point. I will not be ruled by him. Or by anyone. And I will not be used.

Protecting the president is important to me. This is where I have to be. And I need you to be with me here, was left unsaid.

Armise stepped up to me, circling his long fingers around my neck. He cocked his head, those silver-blue eyes holding me to the spot more than his hand. Why do you have to be so goddamn loyal?

He leaned forward, capturing my lips in a soft kiss. He wrapped his arm around my back, drawing me closer until my chest was pressed to his—skin against the soft cloth of his worn T-shirt. I hooked my arms around his waist, placed my leg between his and pulled his body tight against mine.

The kiss deepened, his tongue licking along my lips and inside my mouth, his body moving with mine. The room was filling with steam from the shower still running in the en suite, and I breathed the heaviness of the air in, the scent of Armise’s sweat and the musk of his balms fueling my need.

There was a heavy knock at the door and Armise let out a ripe swear and dropped his head on my shoulder.

Can’t a man even get enough time to take a hot shower? I complained to Armise. What? I yelled, reluctantly pulling away from Armise’s hold and unlocking the door.

I pulled it open to reveal the frightened face of a soldier in full uniform. Aircomm with the president in the control room. Fifteen minutes. Both of you.

I huffed. Of course Neveed didn’t have the balls to call for us in person.

We’ll be there, I replied in a crisp tone, dismissing the soldier. I rebuttoned my pants and grabbed a black T-shirt with the Revolution insignia from the closet before looking at Armise, who was just as visibly hard as I was. We finish this later.

A darkness crossed Armise’s features, then he prowled across the room to me. Fuck that. Fifteen minutes is more than enough time.

He popped the button on my pants and took my cock in his hand, kissing at my neck. He pushed my pants down, ripped the shirt from my hands and threw it to the side. He forcefully pushed me backward, and I couldn’t have stopped him if I’d wanted to.

Shower, he prompted me, spinning me around and pushing me in that direction.

He discarded his own clothes on the floor. I entered the bathroom and stepped under the spray of the shower. The water was too hot, pelting against my skin, raising red marks where it assaulted me. I flipped the temperature down, but not too much, because the coldness of Armise was behind me within seconds, bringing chill bumps to my arms, the familiar sensation of his frigid skin pressing up against my back.

Armise kissed at my tattoo, ran his tongue over the scar, and I arched away from the uncomfortable feeling. His cock slid along the crack of my ass as he thrust against me. He pulled at my nipple piercing with one hand and circled the other around my dick, pumping me slowly as he licked the rivulets that ran down my neck and over my shoulders.

I dropped my forehead to the shower wall and pushed my ass into him, matching the movement of his hand so I was fucking back on him while he worked his hand down then over the head of my cock. His breath came in shallow gasps, a soft moan escaping his lips. I closed my eyes and gave in to the rhythm of our bodies moving together.

Armise circled his hand around my hip, his fingers digging into my skin as he rutted against me, his movements becoming more frantic, hurried, and erratic with each passing second.

Tighter, I ground out.

He coiled his fingers around my dick with brutal pressure until I saw stars behind my eyelids from the pain.

Fuck. Faster, I ordered, my voice gruff and unhinged.

He sped his hand on my cock, rubbed himself forcefully between my ass cheeks, rocking us forward and back. The pain of his tight grip drove me deeper, careening me toward the edge until I couldn’t hold on any longer and I was collapsing on the wall, my body shaking, racked with the intensity of his hand wrenching my release out of me. He spilled hot against my back with a muffled groan and bit down on my shoulder, most likely on my tattoo—leaving his own mark across that ink.

I rested my arms against the tile and settled my head on them. Armise reached around me and turned up the temperature. The hot spray hit my neck and shoulders, ran down my arms, over my cheekbones and off my lips as I caught my breath.

Armise slid his hands over my torso, down the curve of my ass and up around my thighs. He grasped my hips then ran his palms over my stomach and my chest—rough hands on scarred skin, over and again—soaping me, washing away the grime accumulated on the last leg of our mission. He threaded his fingers through my hair, lathering the shampoo, the hot water rinsing away the bubbled remnants almost immediately. I didn’t speak, didn’t question how comfortable—how abnormally normal—it felt to have him doing something that was so domestic.

I could have stayed in the shower and under the press of Armise’s capable hands for hours. But I was overly cognizant of the passage of time and a pressing need to see the president’s face—whether in person or not—and make sure he