Read Moonstruck for Free Online Page A

Prime-Admiral Zaafran glanced at her with surprise. Rorkken, the shrewd bastard, contemplated her with a gaze that was far too penetrating and perceptive for her liking.
    She couldn’t seem to rip her focus from his face. She knew exactly what he’d look like if he threw his head back and laughed. Grief simmered inside her, along with shock and joy, and attraction—physical attraction.
    No . Damn it all, not that, anything but attraction for a Horde. There was only one kind of lust she was capable of feeling for a Drakken, and that was a lust for vengeance.
    The bands of control were now clamped so tightly around her chest that she could hardly breathe. Her heart raced; perspiration prickled her skin. Brit Bandar was a mess.
    Admiral Bandar, however, would reveal nothing.
    She dragged her attention away, keeping her narrowed eyes averted until she’d gained control over what was displayed in them. Rorkken’s resemblance to Seff was slight at best. Yes, of course it was. The barbarian was taller, and older. He was bigger boned; even the skin tone wasn’t the same as her late husband’s. In fact, the more her shock abated, the more she realized the differences she should have noticed in the first place. Yet that first impression had been enough to rip open the old scars, allowing her to feel what she’d worked so hard for so many years not to.
    By the time she’d let go of the wineglass, resuming her impeccable military bearing only seconds later, she was certain no shock registered in her face. She was less sure about what she’d exposed in that moment of being caught off-guard, though. The warleader peered at her in bewilderment, as if he were unsettled himself. What had he seen?
    Brit made the first strike, a defensive measure. “You’re staring, Warleader. Do you not know who I am?” Her brow went up. “Or is it that you do?”
    The warleader stopped to think before answering. Smart man, that. Prime-Admiral Zaafran interrupted. He seemed anxious to regain control of the proceedings. “Admiral Brit Bandar,” he told Rorkken, introducing them. “The commanding officer of the Unity. ”
    Shock flickered in the Drakken’s golden eyes. Stone-Heart. She saw him think it, as clear as day. Her mouth formed into a not-quite smile she knew he didn’t miss.
    Rorkken brought the back of his hand to his forehead in a salute. She’d expected he’d recoil in fear meeting her, to be somehow less than a man in her awe-inspiring presence.
    Not Rorkken. The knowledge of her identity only intensified his interest, it seemed. She wished she could erase what she’d revealed to him but time could never be turned back. She of all people knew that.
    “Admiral,” he said. She was acutely aware of the tilt of his head and the timbre of his voice— hell —and the way he watched her with Seff’s eyes— double hell. That damned physical attraction. How dare the barbarian make her think of Seff? How dare he make her respond to him as a male? “It is an honor,” he finished.
    He said it as if he meant it in the most respectful way possible, and yet…he pondered her as no man had dared ponder her in more years than she cared to remember. He makes you feel like Brit again.
    She stiffened. Insolent bastard! Yet, she couldn’t condemn him for disrespect if the interpretation of what she saw in his gaze was all hers. For the first time in her long career, she didn’t know how to react. She chose what had always worked best: cold silence and a haughty glare. Her trademark, some said.
    Rorkken’s expression was unflinching. He seemed to be working hard to read her. “I don’t expect you to feel the same about serving with me,” he said.
    “As a matter of fact, I’d rather cough up blood.”
    “And waste good blood? We Drakken would rather use it for a nice, warm bath.”
    Outrage boiled until she met his eyes and realized his remark was meant as a self-deprecating jest. He’d teased her. No one teased her. She was Admiral