He had a pleasant voice, husky, a little melodic and definitely masculine but without that underlying tone of arrogance. He was confident, yes, but that was because he had earned the right to think so highly of himself.

Somehow you liked him. A disgusting thought.

"I demand a rematch!", he said as he caught his breath.

Shrugging your shoulders, you raise your arms.

"Try it.", you offered him smugly.

Immediately he was on his feet again, heading straight for you. This time, however, you had no intention of fighting a long battle. The suit made your muscles brittle.

You briefly focussed on his movements. Then you simply jumped towards him and caught him in mid-air with full force.

Hit by your weight, Kurt fell to the ground on his back. A grunt escaped him. In a flash, you grabbed his knife. This time you pressed the tip of it lightly against his throat while squatting directly on his chest.

"Sit.", you breathed to him with a grin.

His arms shot up briefly as he weighed up his options. However, you had him on the ground, a knife at his throat. There was only one way out of this number. With a heavy breath, he dropped his hands into the dust.

"Good boy~!", you smiled and pushed the knife back where it belonged, for the second time.

You made sure you looked deep into his eyes. He should know whose orders he had to obey.

But he withstood your gaze. And, you could hardly believe it yourself, smirked wanly. That damn bastard was actually smirking at you. As if he hadn't just lost.

Narrowing your eyes, you examined him for a moment before you couldn't help but snort.

"Ha!", gasping, you leaned back and had to wipe your face with one hand.

A twitch chased through your body. Confused, you looked at your fingers. A thin film shimmered on your fingertips. Sweat. He had really made you sweat.

"How unusual...", you murmured with a grin. "I guess you deserve a reward."

In one elegant movement, you rolled off him, back onto your feet. The crowd parted as you walked towards the soldier who was handling the bets.

With two fingers and a sweet smile, you took your bundle of eddies from him. Then you tossed it over your shoulder to Hansen. He effortlessly caught it out of the air.

"A treat.", you said, and picked up your jacket to knock the dust from the black leather.

Kurt looked briefly at the money, then looked up at you. His hands clenched into fists but quickly relaxed again. The tension disappeared from his body and instead he just nodded in satisfaction.

He knew where his limits were. You were way over it. And he wasn't stupid enough to think he could be better. Not for the third or fourth time.

Or any time after that.

"Refreshing.", you remarked, slipping back into your jacket and crossing your arms in front of your chest. "I'd like to know which hand is feeding you. Maybe I can steal you from that one."

When your eyes met, he tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm Colonel Kurt Hansen.", he said, calm and disciplined as one would expect on a formal occasion. "I guess my own hand is feeding me."

Disappointment spread through you. But you just raise your eyebrows politely with a smile.

"Regrettable. I'd like a hellhound."

He smirked and for the first time a corner of his white teeth was exposed.

"Not sure if you are in need of one.", his prosthetic hand ran through the strands of brown hair that stuck to his sweat-covered forehead.

It was a brand new model, one that made it hard to tell if it was a real hand decorated by chrome or an entire set of cyberware.

You guessed it was the latter. And considering that he had put up a great fight you knew why the NUSA would invest such high stakes into him. The gear wouldn't be wasted. He'd probably make a profit of them.

Silence spread through the ring. Most of the soldiers were busy collecting their winnings or counting their losses.

From the way the hum dominated the crowd, it seemed many had backed their colonel out of loyalty. Not a bad decision, just poorly calculated.

Either they hadn't factored in your reputation or the colonel was such a charismatic man that nobody wanted to turn their backs on him. Both seemed possible.

It only made your toes tingle more.

Your gaze found him once more.

Fine rivulets of blood ran down his shoulders. The neckline of his shirt was already soaked and clinging to them.

With two quick steps, you stood in front of him and adjusted the sticky fabric.

"A visit to the trauma team seems in order.", you said as your eyes followed the movements of his Adam's apple.

He took a deep breath. Then he exhaled deeply again.

"It will heal quickly.", he said casually, looking down at you with a tilt of his head. "I never lick my wounds longer than necessary."

You smiled at the reference.

"Good boy.", your hand rose to caress his chin.

Pointed fingernails scratched the thin skin between his chin and neck, right below his jawline. Holding his breath, he lifted his head. Every single tip of every single finger left a pale line on his skin.

But he didn't move, didn't flinch. All he did was stand there like a good soldier, arms folded behind his back and chest out. Someone had trained him very well.

You, on the other hand, wanted him to bark and maul. Anything and everything, as long as he didn't do it to you.

But the feeling he triggered in you didn't last long. Not a second after he lowered his chin to meet your gaze, a message popped up in the back of your mind.

Sighing in annoyance, you rolled your eyes, let your head fall back and looked behind you. When you did, Kurt used that one second to let his eyes wander over your outstretched neck, down to your collarbones and a little lower, to the edge of your cleavage.

He had both disobedient thoughts, which were not appropriate for a dog, and more pragmatic reasons. Between the base of your breasts, the tip of more cyberware peeked out of your cleavage.

It was a custom-made one, and as he scanned it, he was impressed to realise that not even he had the authority to request the report on it from the Militech database.