**new**  Hawk was well aware that a sane man would have called it good and quit if he managed to escape the combined firepower of the company, the cops, and the militia once.  But he discovered it was a lot harder to dismiss Alexis from his mind than it was taking on what was likely to be a suicide mission by heading back into the city to get her.
Even if the likelihood was that she would to scream and run from him if he did track her down.
 
As terrified as lowly lab assistant, Alexis, was of the cyborg kill squad known as Hawk squad, she had never been more happy to see them than the night they rescued her from the company goons bent on torturing her.
 
It was still a hell of a leap from rescue to mating in her book, though—be they ever so beautiful in a completely terrifying way.
The problem was getting the four scary cyborg-human/animal hybrids to see it her way when they had mating on their minds.
 
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NIGHT RAVEN II:
DARK SENTINEL
BY
Lyssa Hart
Chapter One
Alexis was always nervous when she went into the examination room—especially when it was Hawk she was to examine.  Hawk squad.  And generally a nervous wreck when she came out again—especially, though not exclusively, when it was team Hawk she examined.
She thought of it as had to—not because it was unpleasant in the sense that she found any one of the group repulsive, or distasteful to touch, but in the sense that they appealed to her—to all of her senses—in a way they certainly shouldn’t have.  
Because they were cyborgs.
And in the sense that they were inarguably the most lethal specimens she had ever had to deal with.
It bothered her, a lot, that she was so terrified of them and still drawn to them.
She was afraid that she had discovered something about herself in that attraction that she would’ve preferred not to know existed.
She didn’t know if it did or not.  She hadn’t been forced into such a predicament before.
But she did know that she wished herself a thousand miles away pretty much every day of her life—not because she hated being around them but because she hated that she was expected to treat them like machines—as if they felt nothing, no pain, no discomfort, no anger or resentment that they’d been poked and prodded and examined like—furniture—since first awareness.
She wished she had a different job—any job—where she stood some chance of making a living without being forced to—basically torture her ‘specimens’.
But she was stuck because she had nowhere to go and self destruction wasn’t a choice.
And that was what quitting her job meant—not flourishing—surviving on government subsistence and producing slaves for the work machine—new taxpayers to replace those that had been lost and to pay for the government assistance that had paid for their conception and childhood.
She didn’t want any part of that.
It seemed more obscene than what she was forced to now—giving life to babies that hadn’t asked for it just so they could be miserable until they died.
Maybe even worse than that, because she didn’t trust the company she was working for worth a damn. She didn’t want to know what they might decide to do to protect their investment.  She was afraid that to know was a death warrant.
Dismissing the thoughts that were only agitating her more, she took several long, deep breaths and let them out slowly, seeking calm, bracing herself the best she could for the ordeal.
It was Hawk on the first chair, she discovered when she entered the room, and her heart just seemed to stumble over itself.
He didn’t turn his head to look at her, but he drew in a deep breath that expanded his already impossibly broad chest and she knew he knew her scent, that he knew it was her without even looking.
That was one of the things about the super soldiers she found most disturbing.
One of those things she wasn’t actually supposed to know that she’d been trying really hard to forget she knew.
A bloodhound had nothing on them when it came to zeroing in on their quarry with nothing but the scent to guide them.
She had tried, really hard, not to think about the fact that she probably wasn’t safe anywhere if they were ever to go rogue.
Supposedly that just wasn’t possible, but nobody with any sense at all truly believed that.
But she assumed that was, in part, why they kept her around, why they made her run the tests.
They thought she might be able to trip them up if it could be done.
She was just guessing, of course.
But there had been a disaster with the first batch—according to rumors.  There had been some sort of mental breakdown.
The company had done their utmost to hush it all up, clean up after themselves.
But people had died and that was a hard one to sweep under the rug.
Especially since they, the company, couldn’t afford to replace every scientist they had. 
They were the inventors.  If the ‘problem’ could be fixed, it would have to be them who did it.