Deathstalker 02 - Deathstalker Rebellion

out here in the wilds, far from civilization, he had to maintain his muscles the hard way, like it or not. Michel hated every minute of it. It was entirely too much like hard work; and if he'd wanted to work hard, he wouldn't have married into the aristocracy.
    He dropped down from the bars and wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The marriage had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now he was beginning to wish he'd stayed an accountant. You knew where you were with figures. If you did your job properly, the numbers added up to a single, undeniable total. No arguments, no opinions, no having to care what anybody else said. Life in the Families wasn't like that. The answer to any question tended to depend on who you were talking to at the time. And heaven help you if you got it wrong, or even worse, didn't give a damn. Everyone was plotting with everyone else, and if you chose the wrong side, death was often the easiest way of losing. And you weren't allowed not to choose a side. Just by being part of a Clan you inherited feuds, arguments, and hatreds that went back centuries.

    Michel sighed and thought about doing fifty sit-ups. And then he thought the hell with it. Let his abdominals sag. See if he cared. He sighed again.
    "What's the matter, lover?" said Lily Wolfe from the doorway.
    Michel looked around quickly. Lily Wolfe, reluctant wife of Daniel, was standing in the open doorway, striking another of her poses. This was her favorite: one leg forward, chest out, head slightly back, designed to pull his eyes up her body, showing off her six-foot-six willowy frame, from her incredible legs all the way up to her pouting mouth. She was wearing another of her pagan witchy outfits, all flapping silks and earth colors, designed to make her look long, pale, and interesting. She'd swapped her usual long silver wig for a mop of bright red curls that didn't really suit her, but was presumably meant to give her an air of gypsy abandon. It didn't matter. She was beautiful. She was always beautiful. Michel smiled at her in spite of himself. Every time he saw her he fell in love with her all over again, even if it was about as sensible as clutching a live grenade to his bosom. Everyone has one true love in their life, someone who fills their life with light and turns their bones to water, and God help him, she was his. He reached for the nearby towel and wiped the sweat from his face.
    "What brings you here, Lily?" he said finally, trying hard to sound casual though his pulse was already racing. "I didn't think you even knew this place existed. And I've told you before; don't call me lover in public. It's not safe."
    Lily shrugged. "There's only one kind of exercise I've ever been interested in.
    Anything else is just a waste of good sweat. And I've never been interested in being safe, either. Now, are you going to come over here and kiss me, or am I
    going to have to come and get you?"
    Michel draped his towel over one shoulder and moved unhurriedly over to join her. It was important to him that he kept some kind of control, even though he knew he'd lose it all the moment he took her in his arms. He had to tilt his head up to kiss her. He was a good six inches shorter than her, but that had never bothered him. It just meant that there was that much more of her for him to love. And when he crushed her in his arms like some long delicate flower and her perfume filled his head like a drug, he didn't give a damn about anything but her.
    Lily always said they were made for each other. His dark and swarthy looks complemented her pale high cheekbones, like two sides of the same gypsy coin.
    They were soul mates, meant for each other, and nothing could keep them apart.
    She said a lot of things like that, but he didn't usually listen. It was enough that she was there. He belonged to her, body and soul, even though he knew he'd probably end up dying for her, if they were ever found out.
    He finally pushed her away, though he didn't let go of her.
    "This complex may not be as openly bugged as we're used to, but that doesn't mean somebody couldn't be watching us," he said heavily. "That bug scrambler of yours has its limits. Daniel and Stephanie may be so preoccupied with getting this factory up and running that we're being allowed a longer leash than usual, but we still have to be careful. If they were ever presented with hard evidence of our love, they'd have to have us executed—or be a laughing stock. Even