Brides of the Kindred

Book 15: Targeted

Evangeline Anderson

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Evangeline Anderson Books

Brides of the Kindred

Book 15: Targeted

Copyright © 2015 by Evangeline Anderson

Kindle Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Amazon.com or Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Author’s Note #1: To be the first to hear about new e-book releases, join my new newsletter. I promise no spam—you will only get email from me when a new book is out for either preorder or for sale.

Author’s Note #2: I'm happy to let you all know that I am going into Audio in a big way. I put both Claimed and Hunted into the audio format and I had such a great response from readers and listeners, that I have decided to put ALL the Kindred books, plus all my Born to Darkness books into audio. If you have a long commute or you'd  like something new to listen at the gym or just around the house, give it a try. The Kindred books are performed by the very talented Anne Johnstonbrown whom I hand-picked to read the series and she really brings the characters to life. Looks for Sought, Found, and Revealed as well as my stand alone book, Purity, to be out in the Audio format by the end of 2015.

Author's Note 3# I'm trying to find out which of my readers are also listeners. For a chance to win a free audio book, sign up for my new Audio book newsletter. It's the same as my e-book newsletter, but only for audio. And as always, I promise not to bother you unless I have a new audio book out or I'm running a contest with an audio book as one of the prizes.

Hugs and Happy Reading and Listening to you all,

Evangeline Anderson July, 2015

Also by Evangeline Anderson

Brides of the Kindred series

Claimed  (Also available in Audio and Print format)**Read the e-book version for free**

Hunted   (Also available in Audio format)

Sought   (Coming to Audio August 2015)

Found    (Coming to Audio 2015)

Revealed (Coming to Audio 2015)

Pursued

Exiled

Shadowed

Chained

Divided

Devoured

Enhanced

Cursed

Enslaved

Targeted

Forgotten (Coming Soon)

Mastering the Mistress (Kindred novella available only in Mastered 2 Box Set)

Born to Darkness series

Crimson Debt (Also available in Audio)  **Read the E-book for free**

Scarlet Heat    (Also available in Audio)

Ruby Shadows (Also available in Audio)

Cardinal Sins (Coming Soon)

Compendiums

Brides of the Kindred Volume One

Contains Claimed, Hunted, Sought and Found all in one volume

Stand Alone Novels

Purity (Coming soon to Audio)

Stress Relief

The Last Man on Earth

YA Novels

The Academy

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Kindred 16: Forgotten excerpt

Kindred Glossary

Also by Evangeline Anderson

About the Author

Chapter One

It was happening again.

Emily Brooks gasped as a flash of heat swept over her body. It started in her lower pelvis and rolled outward, like flames licking her skin from the inside out, stealing her breath and making every inch of her tingle with unwanted heat.

Oh God, ohGodohGod…No, please—not this—not this again!

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides and her toes curled in her sensible low heeled shoes. The shapeless cotton dress she wore was suddenly too hot—sticking to her full-figured body with the dew of sweat that bloomed across her flushed skin. The hair at the nape of her neck was prickling with tension and her eyes burned. Not like she’d gotten soap in them, though—they burned as if there was some strange heat source behind them. As though there was a flame inside her brain that was burning its way out.

But though all these weird physical problems were uncomfortable and strange, they weren’t what Emily feared the most. She feared the other coming out. The one she sometimes glimpsed in the mirror. The one inside of her who was getting closer to the surface every day…

“Miss Brooks? Miss Brooks, Avery pushed me!”

“Did not. Anyway, she pushed me first.”

“Did not!”

“Did so!”

“Class!” Taking a deep breath, Emily forced herself to forget about what was happening inside her and concentrate on the kindergarten class under her care at George Washington Elementary.

Her stress must have come through in her voice, because all fifteen of her kids got suddenly quiet and looked at her with large eyes.

Oh God, what do they see? Do they see what I see when I look in the mirror?

Emily took a deep breath…then another. Calm, she had to be calm. It was only 9:30 and she had to make it until 2:15 when the bell rang for dismissal.

“Miss Brooks,” ventured Avery Andrews. “Do you feel okay? Maybe you oughta go to the nurse.”

“I’m fine, Avery. Thank you for your concern though—that’s sweet.”

Emily did her best to smile at the little boy who was the class clown but so endearing you couldn’t help but love him.

“You don’t look fine,” Kelsey Pincter remarked.

“Yeah, your eyes look funny.” Miracle Jackson said. “All sparky and hot. Like you gots a candle in your head, right behind your eyes—like a jack-o-lantern.”

Like a jack-o-lantern… Emily took another deep breath.

“I’m just fine,” she said again more firmly. “Or I will be if everyone will settle down before we go into the library. Other students are studying in here so we need to be…what?”

“Quiet!” they all chorused loudly and each of them put a finger to his or her lips. “Shhhh!”

Emily tried to smile. Normally her class was the light of her life—she loved kids and since she was never going to have any of her own, being a kindergarten teacher was wonderful. But just now she felt shaky and hot and out of breath—like she’d just run an hour on the treadmill at the gym. Not that she could usually do more than a brisk walk for that long but still—that was the feeling she had.

“All right then, let’s go in quietly,” she murmured, putting her finger to her lips. “Elbows and tip-toes. Line leader, open the door and hold it for the rest of the class.”

Avery was the line leader and he gave her a big freckle-faced grin as he followed instructions, tucking his elbows in and walking with exaggerated caution on the tips of his toes. Emily tried to return the smile as she shepherded her class, which were all doing the same thing, into the large, beautifully decorated media center.

It was a warm, welcoming area with various storybook characters on the walls which had been painted by a local artist . Alice and the Mad Hatter took tea in one corner while the caterpillar looked on from his mushroom. On a far wall, Lucy was opening the door to the magical wardrobe that led to Narnia and on a another wall, a haggard looking Frodo Baggins was holding the One Ring aloft and staring up at the ominous Mount Doom, looming in the distance.

This last mural was perhaps a touch dark for an elementary school library but as a confirmed Tolkien freak, Emily had always loved it. Today, however, she barely noticed it as she herded her class to the big rainbow carpet in the Alice in Wonderland corner. There, to her intense relief, she saw Mrs. Andrews, one of the parent volunteers, was sitting in the big rocking chair and waiting to read a story. Dragons Love Tacos! proclaimed the book in her hand and Emily’s class was already crowding around her. They loved story time.

Mrs. Peltz, the librarian with iron gray hair and stern features, was standing behind the check out desk explaining to a fifth grader why he couldn’t check out the graphic novel he wanted since he still had two more out.

“Mrs. Peltz,” Emily murmured when the disappointed student left. “Since you have a volunteer here, do you mind if I run to the faculty restroom for a minute?”

Mrs. Peltz pursed her lips to a thin, pink line.

“Miss Brooks, you know you’re not supposed to leave students unattended in the library!”

“I know.” Emily was beginning to get desperate. She could feel another heat wave coming on. “I know but it’s just—it’s that time of the month. And I left my, uh, supplies in the classroom.”

“Well…” The librarian looked at her disapprovingly.

“Please,” Emily begged in an undertone.

“All right. But no more than ten minutes, mind.” Mrs. Peltz nodded her sharp chin at the door. “Go on.”

“Thank you!”

Incredibly relieved, Emily left the media center by the back door at a fast walk.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she got out into the chilly wind of the breezeway that connected the media center to the rest of the school. Tampa didn’t get much cold weather but it was mid January, just after the Christmas break, and the thermometer had actually dipped into the low sixties—positively frigid for Florida.

The breeze swirling through the breezeway cooled and revived her, drying the sweat that had broken out across her forehead but Emily could still feel the heat building inside her. By the time she reached the faculty bathroom, located in the rear of the admin building, she was nearly shaking again. Control…she had to get control!

She fumbled for the knob and let herself in, intensely relieved to see she was all alone. Stumbling to the sink, she turned on the cold tap and splashed her face with freezing water. Gasping in shock at the water’s bite, she reached blindly for a stack of the coarse, brown paper towels and blotted her cheeks and eyes. She tried not to smear what little make-up she had on but her face still looked naked when she studied herself in the mirror.

“Calm,” she whispered, her voice echoing in the tiled room. “Keep it together, Ems. Keep calm.”

Ems was her nickname—an affectionate moniker given by her big sister, Anna.

No, adopted sister, Emily reminded herself. Adopted—not really blood related at all.

The news of her adoption was still new to her—something her parents had decided to tell her over the Christmas break. “Because we’re getting older, dear,” her mother—no, adopted mother, Emily reminded herself—had said. “And you need to know in case you have some kind of health problems down the line.”

“We wanted to wait until you were married and settled down so you’d have a family of your own and it wouldn’t be such a shock,” her father had added. “But, well…”

“We decided that now was as good a time as any,” her mother had finished delicately. But Emily had understood the unspoken message. We wanted to wait until you were married but you’re past thirty and it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen any time soon.

“I’m only thirty-one,” Emily muttered to the mirror. “It could still happen.”

But she knew it wouldn’t. She was never going to get married and have kids of her own. It wasn’t that she was getting too old—that was silly—she knew women in their forties having their first baby. And in fact, she looked much like she had ten years ago in her early twenties. Unfortunately, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

With a sigh, Emily stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her shoulder-length dishwater blonde hair couldn’t be more nondescript if she’d dyed it with a color called Anonymous. And her eyes were a wishy-washy blue-gray-hazel that managed to be all colors and no color at once. Her face was just all right—she had broad, almost Slavic cheekbones, and a wide, too-generous mouth with a small nose. It wasn’t awful but it wasn’t model-pretty either and it wasn’t like she had anything else to recommend her. Aside from her limp hair and no-color eyes, she was too short—barely five foot four—and much too round. The loose cotton dress that hid her figure did her no favors but she wasn’t about to go out and buy anything that hugged her curves. She’d tried that once in college and the result had been disastrous.

As a matter of fact, the last time she’d had this trouble with the weird internal heat waves had been back in college, too. Right before—but Emily pushed that thought away hurriedly. It was a memory she preferred to leave buried.

“Should have known I was adopted,” she told her image in the mirror. “Anna and Mom and Dad are all tall and thin and perfect…and I’m the exact opposite.”

Her sister Anna was thirty-three, a size six and a successful attorney. She was married to a heart surgeon who was both handsome and kind and they had just produced a perfectly beautiful set of twins with big blue eyes that Emily adored. She loved her sister too, despite the fact that it seemed like Anna had gone down the “success checklist” of life and checked off every single box in her relentless march to perfection.

“You’ll find a guy, Ems,” her sister had told her, when Emily confessed that the way her parents had revealed her adoption had hurt almost as much as the adoption itself. “You just have to get out there and get over what happened in college. People do go on, you know. There are support groups for—”

“Stop it!” Emily pressed her fingertips to her temples, rubbing fiercely. Damn it—why did everything come back to that? She hadn’t thought of it in ages but lately, since she’d found out that her family wasn’t really her family, it had been coming back. The memories…the flashes of heat…the dreams…

Oh God, the dreams.

Emily closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The dreams were horrible. One in particular…

I wake in the night. I am thirsty. I go to the bathroom and run some water from the sink into my favorite blue mug. As I raise it to my lips, I look in the mirror and see that I am naked. Naked and pale in the moonlight streaming through the window. My belly ripples—ripples like a white pond with some unseen predator just below the surface of the water. And then the pains start—the sharp, blinding agony right behind my naval.

I start to scream and that’s when I see the claws…long, black claws, poking out of me on either side of my belly button. They tear outward and blood gushes in a wave—I am being torn apart. Annihilated. The other is taking over… ripping me open from the inside out…

Emily shuddered and tried to push the nightmarish image away.

“Don’t be stupid.” Her voice echoed again in the tiled room, making her jump, but she went on lecturing herself in the mirror anyway. “Don’t be stupid there’s not really any other. It’s all in your head just like it was in college when—”

But the words died in her throat.

The eyes staring back at her from the bathroom mirror were no longer nothing-colored. Instead they were a pure, clear gold. Not amber or light brown—brilliant, burnished gold. And her hair—it was changing color too. From dishwater blonde it went to Bible black. The change was sudden and complete—as though someone had dumped a bucket of midnight over her head. A stranger stared back at her from the mirror. A stranger…an alien…the other.

Emily gave a soft, breathless scream and backed away from her radically altered reflection. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and dug her fingernails into her palms.

No…nonono…I’m not seeing this. It’s an illusion—a hallucination brought on by stress. I’m fine. I’ll be fine…finefinefinefinefine!

With a low moan, she forced herself to open her eyes.

They were no-color again. And her hair was the same limp, dishwater blonde it had always been, no matter how many products she used to give it body.

“I’m Emily,” she whispered to herself. “Emily Brooks and I’m fine. There is no other. There is no other.”

If only she could make herself believe it.

She backed away, never taking her eyes off the mirror, fearful lest she see herself change again. But the image stayed the same as she fumbled behind her for the doorknob and let herself out.

Emily took a deep, sobbing breath and leaned against the bathroom door, letting the chilly wind dry her tears. Everything was all right. She was fine.

For now.

* * * * *

Rivin Tragar of the Verrak stared at his target through narrowed eyes.

She appeared to be crying.

Why—he had no idea. It wasn’t really his business. His business was to kill her. And that had been his business since he had first agreed to take this contract from the strange Dark Kindred who called himself “Two.”

So why hadn’t he done it yet?

Tragar had no answer to the question.

Well no—that wasn’t exactly true, he corrected himself. He hadn’t killed her yet because he wanted to know what she was capable of. When Two had convinced him to take the contract, he had hinted darkly of a female with hidden depths—a monster buried just below the surface that might burst through her mild exterior and leave a trail of blood and destruction in her path at any moment.

A monster like that was right up Tragar’s alley. He preferred to take targets who were dangerous and could give him a good fight. Even better if innocent lives might be at stake. In fact, when he’d seen that this female—this Emily Brooks—worked with younglings, he’d almost taken her out from a distance at once, even though it wasn’t his usual way. Better to break his personal protocol than risk young, innocent lives.

But he’d delayed—stilling the itchy trigger finger on his sonic rifle for two reasons. The first was he preferred a fair fight. Unlike some of the other Verrak, he didn’t usually take targets at a distance. He took them somewhere safe and secure and let them choose their weapon and fight him face to face—let them die with honor. No matter what heinous crimes they had committed, everyone deserved dignity in death. That was Tragar’s belief, anyway.

The second reason he didn’t shoot was that he saw the way Emily interacted with the younglings. During his first observation one of them had fallen, scraping a chubby knee on the hard walkway that ran between the school buildings. The young one had run crying to Emily, her knee seeping blood, her eyes awash with tears.

Here we go… Tragar’s finger had tightened on the trigger. Surely the sight of blood would bring out the ravening monster Two had sworn lurked in the innocent looking girl’s breast. He was ready to shoot her down the moment she went for the youngling’s throat.

But instead of going feral—becoming a thing of teeth and claws and appetite—the girl he had been sent to kill gathered the youngling into her arms. She dried the little female’s tears and said some words of consolation—too low for Tragar to understand though he had been studying her language for days now.

The little female had quieted, obviously feeling safe and comforted in the arms of Tragar’s target, who still showed no signs of attacking. Gradually, his finger had loosened on the trigger and then he had put down the rifle altogether and just watched.

Gods, it reminded him of Landra…the way she was with Jalex when he hurt himself…

No! Tragar had pushed the memory away. He took a deep breath. I do not allow my past to dictate my present or my future. There is no then. There is only here and now. There is only the target.

It was a Verrak saying—a necessary reminder since most of those in his elite brotherhood came from a background of loss and sorrow. But though he repeated it to himself over and over, he still hadn’t been able to kill Emily Brooks. Not then and not now, ten days later.

He studied her—watching her wipe at her eyes with a hand that trembled. Why was she crying? What had agitated her so? For a moment he imagined holding her against him and asking her what was wrong. It was foolish of course—a fantasy that could never come true. But there was no denying she would be pleasant to hold.

She had a lush body hidden beneath her shapeless garments—he could tell. It was a shame she didn’t wear clothing that showed her shape, but just the outline of her curves was tantalizing. Not that he was supposed to be looking at her that way—she was only another target, after all. Still, those full breasts and rounded hips…

A burning sensation in his left arm brought him back to reality. It was the narsh—the mark of the Verrak—given to him when he first passed the trials and took the oath. Tragar looked down at the thick black lines criss-crossing his muscular arm from shoulder to wrist. The narsh burned to remind him that he had a job outstanding—a commission as yet undone.

Tragar ignored it. He was used to doing so. He almost never took jobs with time limits on them, preferring to take his time and get every detail exactly right.

I just need to know her, he argued with himself. Need to find out what’s so special—what makes her dangerous before I pull the trigger.

And so he watched…and waited. Soon, he would kill her soon.

But not…just…yet.

Chapter Two

“You’re late—where have you been?” Mrs. Peltz’s narrow face was a mask of rigid disapproval.

“I’m so sorry! I…I got sick,” Emily said, grasping for the first explanation she could think of. Really, it was true—seeing herself morph into a stranger in the mirror could certainly be considered an illness, though not of the physical variety.

“Well if you’re that ill maybe you’d better take a sick day.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Emily muttered. “I’m certainly, uh…ill.” For the first time she wondered if she ought to seek medical attention—was it safe for her to be around her class if she was having delusions? But it wasn’t like she was having violent urges or anything. And she’d been through this before, in college and hadn’t hurt anyone. No, you were the one who got hurt, whispered a little voice in her head. You were the one who got—

“Shut up!”

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Peltz’s iron-gray eyebrows were raised nearly to her hairline. “What did you just say to me?”

Oh God, had she said that out loud?

“I’m sorry. I…I thought one of my kids was talking too loud in the library.” Emily gestured at her class who were happily browsing through the easy reader stacks, still assisted by Ms. Andrews who was helping them find books to check out.

“And so you yelled ‘shut up’ at them?” Mrs. Peltz’s eyebrows were in danger of disappearing completely. “Is that how you speak to your class?”

“No, I…” Emily shook her head, realizing that she had just made things much, much worse for herself. “I’m sorry,” she muttered desperately. “I just…I’m just not feeling well.”

“Are you on something?” The librarian’s eyes narrowed. “Some kind of medication?”

“What? No!” Emily snapped, stung into raising her voice. “No, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the way you’re acting, young lady.” Mrs. Peltz frowned at her. “First neglecting your class, then shouting at them? It seems to me that someone ought to know about that.”

“I told you, I’m just feeling sick.” Emily wished she didn’t sound so defensive. “Honestly, Mrs. Peltz, that’s all it is.”

“Well…” The librarian sniffed, her long, boney nose wrinkling as though she smelled something bad. “You’d better get yourself together in a hurry. Ms. Lane’s class is due here any minute and your library time is almost up.”

“Thank you. I’ll get my kids.” Emily nodded her head humbly.

She managed to herd her class into a line at the circulation desk and made sure they all had their library folders so Mrs. Peltz could check them out. As she did, the librarian stared at Emily with thin-lipped disapproval. Emily tried not to show any emotion but inside she was alternately seething and worrying.

How dare the librarian imply that she was on some kind of drugs? And who would she tell if she was feeling suspicious enough—or mean enough—to seek out someone in the upper administration? George Washington Elementary was in a very nice area of Carrollwood—one of Tampa’s upper class neighborhoods. Teachers were held to the highest standards and any kind of personal problems were frowned upon.

It seemed to take forever to get all the kids checked out but finally Emily had them lined up at the library exit door with Avery at the head of the line, looking at her expectantly. She was about to tell him to go when the entrance door opened and Julia Lane walked in with her own class.

“Oh Julie, hi!” Emily was glad to see a friendly face. Julia taught first grade and she was a friendly, open, happy girl with honey blonde hair and big blue eyes. She was also skinny, but Emily didn’t hold that against her.

“Ems!” Julie smiled as her class filed into the library, then frowned as she got a better look at her. “What’s wrong? You’re pale as paper and sweating like crazy!”

“I…I’m fine.” Emily passed a trembling hand over her damp forehead. Damn it, Julie was right—she was sweating. “Just not feeling great right now. It’s uh…that time of the month. You know,” she said, using the same excuse she’d given Mrs. Peltz. Actually she hadn’t had a period in ages—her cycle had stopped around the time the strange heat waves and dreams began. But it was a quick and easy way to explain why she felt bad.

“You poor thing!” Julie squeezed her arm sympathetically. “Maybe you should go home if they can find you a sub. Of course if you do that, you’ll miss meeting Mr. Grayson.”

“Mr. who?” The name sent an ugly shock through Emily’s entire body, making her feel as though someone had just pricked her with a very large, very sharp pin.

“You know—the new vice principal!” Julie lowered her voice. “Oh, and he’s cute too. If Dan and I weren’t engaged…” She winked expressively and Emily managed to manufacture a weak laugh.

“Wow, sounds hot. Guess I’d better stick around.”

“Not if you feel bad. You ought to go.”

“I’ll try,” Emily promised.

“Well, just take care of yourself. Oh—and did you hear the other news? The school’s name change is going through.”

“Really?” Emily tried to act like she cared. But right now, she didn’t give a dman what her school was called, she just wanted to get out of there.

“Uh-huh.” Julie nodded. “No more plain old George Washington Elementary. Effective immediately we’re going to be CFAE—the Center for Academic Excellence. Sounds pretty hoity-toity, huh?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Emily shrugged. Personally, she thought the new name sounded stupid but it was typical of their principal who was always looking for ways to raise the school’s profile.

“I know. I just—” Julie started to say.

“Ms. Lane, Ms. Brooks, are you two going to take charge of your classes or stand here talking all day? We have volunteers here to help out but it is not their job to police your students,” Mrs. Peltz’s sharp voice cut into their conversation.

“Sorry!” Emily got her class, which was getting antsy anyway, moving out the exit door.

“Talk to you later,” Julie said, throwing the librarian an unfriendly look.

“Sure.” Emily nodded a goodbye at her friend, trying not to feel the sharp eyes of the librarian boring into her back.

As she walked back to her classroom with her students in a line behind her, she couldn’t help remembering Julie’s words about the new vice principal. She’d known that GWE was getting one—the old vice principal, Mrs. Adams, had been about a thousand years old and had finally retired much to everyone’s relief. She’d been a crusty old bat with very rigid ideas about discipline and proper behavior. And since the principal, Ms. Edwards, was a social butterfly who preferred to promote the school with fund raising events and exposure in the local media, much of the day-to-day running of the school had been left to her.

When Mrs. Adams had finally stepped down, there had been a lot of speculation as to who would be taking her place. Emily had been as interested as anyone. But the name Grayson…she shivered. It sent a cold chill down her spine.

It’s nothing, she told herself uneasily. Grayson is a really common name. It’s no big deal.

She hoped.

When Emily got her class back to their room, she settled them down by sending them to their favorite centers even though center time wasn’t supposed to be until after lunch. They played more or less quietly in their favorite spots—the sand and water table, the home tasks station, the art area—and she had time to relax and try to regain control.

It’s all right, she told herself over and over again. It’ll pass. It passed in college, didn’t it? Of course, the strange heat waves and dreams hadn’t passed until after what Emily had come to refer to as “the incident.” And she certainly didn’t want to go through that again—not even to stop the bizarre changes that seemed to be happening to her body.

One thing was clear—she couldn’t keep coming to work like this. It wasn’t fair to the children under her care. Reluctantly, she decided to take some personal leave.

I’ll ask for some time off—say that a family member is ill or that my grandmother died or something—anything to get a few days off. Maybe I can go someplace—Grandpa’s cabin up in the Blue Ridge—and clear my head.

It was an appealing thought. It seemed to Emily if she could just get away from the city—maybe go up into the mountains—then the clear, fresh air might help her. Might blow away the frightening dreams and strange fantasies of the other she kept glimpsing in the mirror and leave her free to live her life in peace again.

I’ll do it, she decided and felt immediately better. She didn’t believe she was a danger to her kids or anyone else but she didn’t like to take a chance, even a small one. Today after school was over, she would go straight to the principal’s office, explain that she had a family emergency, and ask Ms. Edwards to find a substitute for her class for the rest of the week. The principal wouldn’t like it but the school wasn’t hurting financially—they could get a sub. Also, Emily had never taken a single sick day in the entire time she’d worked there. They should be willing to work with her now.

Feeling lighter now that her decision was made, Emily went about the rest of her day. The hours seemed to fly by and when the bell rang at 2:15, she was almost feeling herself again. She decided it was still best to ask for some time off, however—the heat waves did seem to come and go and there was no reason to suppose they were suddenly gone for good.

She saw the last of her kids off on their respective busses and then went back to her classroom to get her things, intending to stop by the office on her way out. Just as she was hooking her purse over her arm, however, the intercom over her desk crackled to life.

“Ms. Brooks ? Ms. Brooks , are you there?” It was the bored, nasal voice of Linda, one of the school secretaries.

Emily felt a prickle of unease.

“Yes, I’m here. What is it?” she asked.

“You’re needed in the office. Right away please.”

Emily resisted the urge to ask why she was wanted. Had Mrs. Peltz been to visit the principal’s office already with wild tales of Emily’s strange behavior? Well if so, Emily would just say it was because she was distracted by her family emergency. She didn’t like to lie but she could hardly say she was shaking and sweating because she kept having strange delusions that something weird and “other” was taking over her body.

“I’m on my way,” she said loudly. “Please tell Ms. Edwards I’ll be there soon.”

“Not Ms. Edwards—you’re wanted by the new VP—Mr. Grayson,” Linda informed her. Then the intercom went dead before Emily could ask any more questions and she was left standing there with a strange, sinking feeling in her stomach.

Chapter Three

“I’m here to see the new vice principal?” Emily didn’t like the way her voice came out sounding so high and uncertain but she couldn’t seem to help it. She didn’t like being called to the principal’s office as though she was a misbehaving kid.

“He’s in his office.” Linda didn’t bother looking up from her screen—she was absorbed in a game of Soda Saga.

“Okay. Thanks.” Lifting her head high, Emily walked down the long hallway leading back to the admin offices. The door to Mrs. Adams’ old office was ajar and there was a shiny new plaque on it which read Grayson. Again she felt that cold chill go down her back, skating along her spine like an icy finger but she tried to shake it off.

Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself uneasily. There’s no way it’s him.

A peek inside the room showed that Mrs. Adams’ old battered desk and swivel chair had been replaced with a shiny mahogany writing table and a high-backed deluxe executive’s chair which was currently turned away from the door so Emily couldn’t see who was sitting in it.

She knocked hesitantly at the door.

“Hello? It’s Emily Brooks. You wanted to see me?” As she spoke, she stepped inside the room and moved towards the shiny new table.

“Yes, I did.” The chair swiveled around and Emily stopped moving, frozen in shock.

“Well, Emily, it’s been a long time. A very long time indeed.”

Richard Grayson rose from behind his writing table and took a step towards her, holding out one large, meaty hand. He was still as handsome as he had been in college, back when they’d taken Early Literacy and Reader Development together. He was tall—so tall he seemed to loom over her—and had thick dark blonde hair and blue eyes. All American good looks that hid a much darker side, as she well knew.

Emily took a quick step back.

“Not long enough.” Her voice came out in a shaky whisper. “What…what are you doing here?”

“I thought that would be obvious.” He spread his hands. “I work here now. In fact, I’m your boss. Isn’t life funny?”

Emily wasn’t finding it a bit funny. No, no, no—this can’t be happening…he can’t be here…no, no, NO.

“Why did you call me here?” she demanded. “What do you want?”

“Well, first of all I wanted to make sure it was you.” He gave her a pleasant smile which didn’t fool Emily a bit. She would sooner trust a shark than Richard Grayson. Fool me once and all that.

“It’s me, all right.” She took another step back. “Now what the hell do you want?”

He shook his head and made a tsking noise.

“Is that any way to speak to your new boss?”

“You’re not my boss—Ms. Edwards is.”

“No, our esteemed principal has put me in charge of the teachers at GWE—or should I say CFAE—so she can pursue other avenues of raising the school’s profile. You know, I think she might take a run at the mayor’s office?” He grinned charmingly. “Now wouldn’t that be something? It would certainly put the Center for Academic Excellence on the map! Anyway, I’m here to free her up as much as possible which means I am your boss and you will speak to me with respect.”

His hands on me…holding me down…the horrible searing pain, the feeling of wrongness as he…No!

Emily shook her head, trying to clear the past away. She wanted to turn and run…wanted to shrink into a tiny ball and hope he would just leave her alone. But then something happened—the other inside her came forward giving her courage, lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders.

“Sorry, I don’t respect rapists,” she heard herself say.

The charming smile dropped abruptly off his handsome face.

“All right now, Emily—that’s a very ugly word.”

“And a very true one.” The other was still speaking for her—she didn’t know how but at this point she didn’t care. He took a step towards her but she held up a hand. “That’s far enough—don’t come near me.”

“Now, Emily—be reasonable.” He frowned like a stern father confronting a wayward daughter. “Can’t we just let the past be the past?”

“Not after what you did to me.” Emily glared at him. She felt the heat starting behind her eyes again but this time she welcomed it.

“All right now, we both know I didn’t do anything you weren’t asking for,” he snarled, his fatherly demeanor slipping. “There were twenty other people in the bar that night who saw you coming on to me. You practically dragged me back to my dorm where you ripped off my clothes and pulled me on top of you.”

“I…I…” Emily faltered and she felt the other recede, taking the power and certainty she’d felt just a moment before with it. True. What he was saying was all true.

“Come on now, you know it’s true,” Grayson said, echoing her guilty thoughts. He crossed his arms over his chest, wrinkling the material of his expensive black suit. “I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t want sex behaving the way you behaved that night. I just did what you asked me to do.”

“Not completely.” Emily’s voice broke and she had to clear her throat before she went on. “You…you didn’t stop,” she whispered. “Even when I begged you to—you wouldn’t stop.”

“Well you could hardly expect me to—”

But she turned and fumbled blindly for the door, her eyes blurred with tears. God, she had to get out of here—had to get away from this horrible shadow of her past that had somehow come forward to engulf her in darkness.

Had to leave before she went crazy…if she wasn’t already.

* * * * *

Tragar watched as the little female stumbled out of the school and scrambled to get into her vehicle. There were tears in her eyes but he hardened his heart against the sight of her weeping. His fantasies earlier of holding and comforting her had decided him—he was getting too attached to her. This was the day. It was time to stop watching and start acting. He couldn’t observe Emily Brooks forever to find out what was so special about her—the fact was he had agreed to take the job and he had to get it done.

But not at her place of work—not at a place where the younglings might find her. No, he would follow her to her domicile and put her to rest quietly and humanely. It wasn’t his usual way, that was certain, but he didn’t like the way this little female was getting under his skin. The more he watched her, the more interested he became in her and not just as a target.

Better to break his own protocol and finish the job from a distance than to risk getting emotionally involved. That was the cardinal sin of the Verrak –one which could not be excused or forgiven. And somehow, even though he had never spoken to her or touched her, he found he was perilously close to committing that sin. She affected him, though he didn’t know how or why.

“Never going to find out, either,” he growled to himself as he started his own vehicle—a small shuttle which converted easily to look like any of the Earth cars he saw whizzing past him on their concrete roads. He had light refraction tech on the shuttle too, allowing it to become invisible at will but he felt no need to use it now. If anyone saw him they would simply assume he was another Beast Kindred going to the Human/Kindred Relations building.

Tragar watched as Emily pulled out of the parking lot, the wheels of her tiny vehicle shrieking in protest as she swerved wildly to get out onto the street. He was about to follow when a human male ran out to the same lot and got into another, much larger and more expensive looking vehicle. Tragar frowned as he watched the male with dark blonde hair take exactly the same path that Emily had. Was he following her? If so, why?

Was he the one that had put those tears in her eyes?

Unbidden, Tragar felt an angry, possessive growl rise in his throat. He tried to swallow it back down and found he couldn’t. This was ridiculous—the female was nothing but a target. This male might even be going to do his job for him which he ought to welcome. Instead, for some reason he felt rage that the male would dare to hurt her or make her cry. Rage and a deep sense of protectiveness.

Don’t be a fool, he lectured himself uneasily. She’s a target. You’re not here to protect her—you’re here to kill her! But the feelings wouldn’t leave and he couldn’t stop the sense of urgency he felt as he put his vehicle in drive and pulled out, chasing Emily and the blonde human male who was following her.

* * * * *

Emily tried to stop crying but somehow she couldn’t turn off the waterworks. In fact, she could barely see to drive but that didn’t stop her from putting the pedal to the metal as her sister Anna would have said. The only thought in her mind was getting away—getting as far as possible from the dark piece of her past which had somehow shown up on her doorstep like an ugly, evil jack-in-the-box popping up where it was least expected or wanted.

How long had she been pushing the details of that awful night down into her subconscious, burying it like rotten garbage that would begin to stink if she left it lying out in the open?

You should have reported it—should have called the campus police and let them know what had happened to you—let them know what he did.

The voice in her head sounded suspiciously like Anna’s. Her older sister was the only one she’d admitted the rape to—the only one she felt she could trust not to judge her. Then Grayson’s voice came back to her as well.

Come on, Emily, who’s going to believe you? Twenty people saw you coming on to me, practically dragging me back to my dorm room. You wanted it—you were hot for it.

And she had been too—right up until the point where he started trying to fit himself inside her. Then the waves of heat and lust she’d been feeling, the urgent need to have a man inside her, had abruptly departed, leaving only a sense of wrongness so deep it seemed to sear her very soul. It wasn’t guilt either—her parents had been strict but it wasn’t like they preached complete abstinence. Though her mother had hinted delicately that it was better to wait until marriage when she had “the talk” with Emily at age twelve. No, it was something else—something almost biological. A feeling of revulsion and sick depravity had swamped her, making her feel like she’d somehow been tricked into an act of bestiality rather than having sex with a man.

What was it about Grayson that triggered such a strong and horrible reaction inside her? Emily didn’t know but she couldn’t fight it. All she knew was that she had to get away—get out from under him. She had a desperate realization that she couldn’t let this happen—it had to stop now. At that moment she began to struggle beneath him, trying to push him away rather than pull her towards him.

Grayson had had several beers that night—they both had—but Emily had no doubt he knew what he was doing. When she tried to fight, he held her down and when she started to scream and beg, he put a thick, meaty palm over her mouth, pressing down so hard her teeth cut into her lips and she tasted blood.

“Shut up you little cunt.” His breath had been heavy with stale beer fumes. “You want it! You know you want it and I’m going to give it to you…”

Emily cut off the memory then—shoving it away with an almost physical effort of will as she pulled into her own driveway which was screened by a row of large Mexican Breadfruit bushes. She lived in a small one bedroom bungalow at the unfashionable end of Old Carrollwood—the only place she could afford near her school on a teacher’s salary. In fact, she’d just closed on the little house a few months before, which was a shame since it now seemed she was going to have to leave it and get the hell away from George Washington Elementary and everyone in it for the rest of her natural life.

Hell no—we’re not going anywhere, whispered a voice in her brain. GWE is our school—why should we leave it to that raping bastard?

Was it the voice of the other? If so this was the first time she’d spoken up. The other had always been a silent, ominous presence located somewhere in the back of her mind. Now, it seemed, she was coming forward at will and even talking—at least inside Emily’s head.

Emily pulled the key from her ignition and ran a trembling hand through her hair. The fact that the other now had a voice and a personality was even more reason to get the hell out of Dodge as far as she was concerned. But forget her grandfather’s cabin in the mountains—maybe she ought to check herself directly into the local insane asylum.

“Well, wherever I go, I’ve got to get away,” she said aloud in a shaky voice. “Screw getting sick leave—I’ve got to get out of here!” There was no way she could face Richard Grayson again—no way in Hell.

She fumbled open her car door and got out clumsily, wobbling on legs that didn’t want to hold her up. God, was she actually faint now? What was wrong with her? Was it just the stress of confronting the man who had done such a horrible thing to her so many years ago? Or was it the other coming forward, trying to take control of her body? Already she could feel the heat waves burning outward from her center, swamping her in a dizzying rush of emotions too complicated to explain or ignore.

“Please,” she whispered, leaning against the side of her little blue bug and putting a hand over her eyes. “Please, just go away and leave me alone. Please just let me be.”

“Talking to yourself again, Emily?”

The horribly familiar voice made her jump and open her eyes. She felt her stomach sink with a sickening lurch when she saw Grayson striding across the lawn to her.

“You followed me home?” Emily couldn’t keep the tremble out of her voice. “What the hell is wrong with you? Get back or I’ll…I’ll…” She fumbled in her purse, trying to find either her cell phone or the small canister of mace she kept in case of attack. Neither one came to her shaking fingers, however. Instead she grabbed the first pointed thing she could find—which turned out to be a red ball point pen.

“Or you’ll what—give me an F? Write me to death?” The contemptuous laughter in Grayson’s voice was almost too much to bear.

“What do you want? How dare you come to my house?” Emily whispered. She still gripped the pen like a knife even though she felt foolish doing it. It was the only weapon she had and she’d be damned if she let it drop.

“I just wanted to talk—we never finished our conversation.” Grayson sounded completely reasonable but there was a gleam in his light blue eyes that Emily didn’t trust. Not at all.

“Say what you want and get out then,” she said, hearing a touch of the other in her voice again. “I don’t want you at my house—this is an invasion of privacy.”

“No, this is me making a deal—a deal I think you’re going to want to take.” His eyes still gleamed as he took another step forward.

Emily wished desperately that she had any hope of someone seeing what was going on. But the yards were unusually large in Old Carrollwood and most of the houses, hers included, were screened with lush tropical plants which formed natural hedges around the property. It gave a charming, hidden aspect to the houses and it was one reason she’d fallen in love with her little bungalow in the first place.

Now she belatedly realized that the thick foliage also provided great cover for an attack. The Mexican Breadfruit leaves of her own hedge completely hid what was going on in her yard from the street—even her nosiest neighbor, Mrs. Harmon, couldn’t see into her property. Great if she wanted to sunbathe in a bathing suit on her own front lawn—not so good if she wanted help while confronting an attacker.

“What are you talking about? What deal?” she asked warily, still gripping her red ballpoint pen.

“You didn’t give me a chance to tell you but I didn’t just call you to my office for old times’ sake.” He grinned most unpleasantly. “I also had a complaint about you today from one Mrs. Peltz.” He paused delicately and Emily could see how much he was enjoying twisting the knife. “She, ah, seemed to think you were on something earlier today. Said you were sweating and shaking and swearing at your class—”

“What?” Emily exploded, stung by the injustice of his words. “I wasn’t feeling good today and she thought she heard me say ‘shut up’ but that’s hardly swearing.”

“It might as well be. You know how we feel about using such derogatory language.” Grayson shook his head and made that condescending tsking sound with his tongue again. “Such a shame if you had to take a drug test. Even if it came up negative it would tarnish your reputation permanently—maybe even cost you your job.”

“I’m not on any damn drugs and you know it,” Emily spat, the other full force inside her now.

“Well, I believe you but I’m not sure the school board would. Or the parents for that matter if it happened to get out.” Grayson gave her a nasty smile.

“So what’s your deal?” Emily began to see what he was up to here. “You want me to keep my mouth shut about what you did to me and you’ll ignore Mrs. Peltz’s complaint?”

“Not exactly…” He took another step towards her and her fingers tightened on the Bic until she felt the pen’s plastic casing creak in her fist. “I admit that was what I had planned at first but now that I’ve seen you again, I have something else entirely in mind.”

“What?” Emily’s breath felt like it was stuck somewhere in her throat and she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Yet she was frozen to the spot, unable to run—caught like a small, frightened animal in the headlights as he advanced on her. Where was the other when she needed her?

“It’s just…I’ve never forgotten that night we spent together.” Grayson took another step towards her, his eyes gleaming. “I’ve been with so many women since then but none of them could compare to you, my dear Emily. You were so tight.”

Suddenly the other came rushing forward again at full force.

“That’s because I was a virgin and you raped me you bastard!” Emily heard herself snarl at him. “I asked you to stop—I begged you to stop. But you wouldn’t!”

“Well, as I said, I think we should let the past be the past.” He made a dismissive gesture with one meaty hand as though the horror he’d put her through was nothing. “Right now we need to concentrate on the present. And so I’m willing to offer you a deal—I won’t say a thing about your little drug problem as long as you’re willing to accommodate me once in a while. Shall we say…once or twice a week?”

“Accommodate you?” Emily couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You mean—”

“Fuck me. Well, but I guess I would be doing the fucking.” His smile had turned into a sneer of malicious enjoyment. Clearly he thought he had her in a bad spot and she wouldn’t be able to refuse him. “At least once a week. Starting now.”

He took another step towards her and suddenly he was right in her face, invading her space. Emily raised the red Bic pen intending to stab him but he caught her wrist in his beefy hand and squeezed until the bones creaked. Her fingers went numb and the pen dropped with a harmless clatter to the concrete of her driveway.

“You can cry and beg while we do it if you want.” Grayson leaned forward, pressing his cheek close to hers. “Actually, I think I’d like that,” he breathed.

For a long, nightmarish moment Emily felt as though the past was repeating itself. Here was Grayson, looming over her again, his face like a bloated moon that filled her vision. He had her in an unbreakable grip and his hot breath was gusting in her face. Only this time it smelled like stale coffee instead of stale beer.

And once again he was intent on taking what she desperately didn’t want to give.

“Come on, Emily.” He grinned at her unpleasantly. “I know you don’t want me reporting your drug problem to Ms. Edwards. So how about you invite me in? Unless you’d rather do our little business transaction right here in your charming front yard?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word. “We’re in public. In broad daylight.” Which was actually a bit of an overstatement since it was a gray, overcast day threatening rain. But still.

“I don’t think anyone’s home yet and even if they are, they won’t be able to see us through all the bushes you’ve got around here.” He nodded at the screen of Breadfruit plants. “Come on, Emily—”

Suddenly it was as though someone had lit a bomb inside her—a Molotov cocktail that burst and sprayed rage like fire through her whole body. The other rushed forward again.

“You son of a bitch!” Emily heard herself say, her voice a menacing snarl. “You take your hand off me now or I swear I’ll fucking bite it off!”

“Oh, you’re feeling feisty!” He laughed. “I like it—we can go with that. I don’t mind a struggle.”

“Then I’ll give you one.” With strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Emily tore her wrist from his grip.

“Emily?” He frowned as though he was really seeing her for the first time. “Your eyes—they’re glowing. What the hell?”

Once again she felt the burning behind her eyes—the ripples of heat rushing through her body. The attacker, whispered the voice of the other in her brain. The bad man—he hurt us!

Well he’s not going to hurt us again, Emily told it firmly.

Then she was on him—seizing him like a wild animal that scents its prey. Grayson made a strangled noise of surprise and stumbled backward. The shift in his balance gave Emily the advantage and she lunged forward hard and fast, bearing him to the ground despite their height difference.

He tried to push her away but she was feral—the other taking over completely. Locking her teeth to the side of his throat she bit as hard as she could while scratching long, bloody furrows down the sides of his face. He flailed wildly but he couldn’t buck her off.

“Ow! Get off me, you bitch! What the hell is wrong with you?” Grayson’s howls would have been comical if she could have felt anything but fury. But a red curtain of rage clouded her vision and the hot, coppery blood in her mouth only seemed to fuel her fury.

Kill him! whispered the voice of the other in her head. Kill him now so he can never do it again!

Emily obeyed mindlessly, looking for a better grip on his neck in order to rip his throat out. It didn’t occur to her that the mild-mannered kindergarten teacher she believed herself to be would never do such a thing or even think of doing such a thing. She only knew that she would kill or die before she allowed herself to be taken against her will again. Grayson was a threat so he had to be eliminated.

Now.

Chapter Four

Tragar’s vehicle skidded to a halt in front of the little domicile shielded by the lush tropical vegetation. He’d been held up on a one way street by a slow, elderly driver he couldn’t get around which seemed to be a very common problem here in Emily’s part of Earth. Normally the delay wouldn’t have bothered him but by the time he finally got around the slow driver, he was nearly frantic with worry.

She’s just a target—it doesn’t matter what happens to her, he tried to tell himself. But he didn’t believe the lie for a moment. The knot of tension in his gut just kept growing every time he remembered the tears in her eyes and the way she had rushed away from her school. Not to mention the blond male who had been following her. Who was he, anyway? Tragar had been casing her school for days and had thought he knew all the instructors and support staff. But who was this bastard and why had he affected Emily so deeply?

Could it be another hunter? Another assassin out for her blood? The thought made him even more uneasy. When he had taken the job, the Dark Kindred named Two had said that he might not be the only one hunting Emily. Though Tragar had assured him he could take out one lone female—no matter how dangerous—with ease, he seemed the type to leave nothing to chance.

“I will give you ten solar days from the time you take the contract,” he’d told Tragar, those metal teeth of his gleaming. “No more. After that, others will be dispatched with the same goal as yours—to kill the girl. I mean to see her dead, Verrak, and it must happen soon…”

Tragar tried to push back the disturbing memory. He would deal with other assassins if they came. Right now he had to see to Emily.

When he finally parked his vehicle and made his way quickly but silently up the lawn, staying well hidden in the large leafed plants, he saw what was clearly a bad situation happening right in front of Emily’s front doorway.

The male with the blond hair and pale eyes was advancing on Emily, speaking to her in a low, threatening tone. Tragar’s first instinct was to jump out of the bushes and knock the bastard flat with one punch or maybe even kill him outright with a single shot of his sonic rifle. Terminating people other than the target during an operation wasn’t exactly forbidden by the Verrak but it was certainly strongly frowned upon. In this case, however, Tragar was more than willing to take whatever chastisement might come his way for killing the son of a bitch.

But something stopped him. It was a scent—a scent in the air he’d never smelled before and yet one he instinctively knew. One he would recognize anywhere though he would never have expected to smell it here on Earth, so far away from his home world of Rageron.

What in the Seven Hells?

He had to be wrong—there was no way. It couldn’t be. He sniffed the air and scented it again—was it really coming from Emily?

Hidden by the screen of vegetation, he breathed deeply and watched the scene in front of him unfold.

“It’s just…I’ve never forgotten that night we spent together,” the blond male said, taking a step towards Emily. Tragar could only see him from the side but he didn’t like the look on what he could see of the male’s face. It was greedy and lustful. “I’ve been with so many women since then but none of them could compare to you, my dear Emily.” His eyes gleamed. “You were so tight.”

Tragar felt a low growl rising in his throat but Emily’s reply left him mute.

“That’s because I was a virgin and you raped me you bastard!” she cried, glaring at the blond male. “I asked you to stop—I begged you to stop. But you wouldn’t!”

Every fiber of Tragar’s being howled in protest. Raped her? This fucking scum had dared to take her against her will? If she was what Tragar’s nose told him she was—what her scent proclaimed her to be—there could be no worse crime. To take any unwilling female was shameful and disgusting—the act of a coward who deserved nothing but death. But to take a Khalla—

Things were happening rapidly now. The male had her by the wrist and was squeezing hard. Tragar lifted his rifle to shoot—not to kill—that was too good for this bastard. He just wanted to wound him and he would finish the job later. Slowly. But then something else happened—something that confirmed his suspicions.

Emily ripped her wrist from the male’s grip and her eyes began to glow. They changed from the no-color blue they had been to a pure, fiery gold. Her hair changed color too—going from brownish-blonde to thick, glossy black. And then she pounced.

Seven Hells! Tragar rushed forward but he wasn’t sure what to do. On one hand, it was her right to exact justice for the wrong which had been done her. Taking the maidenhood of a Khalla against her will was a sin punishable by torture and the most painful and prolonged death possible. But if he allowed her to kill this slimy male it would surely throw her body into complete Tenrah and shortly after that, the breeding heat would be upon her. At that point it would be either breed or die. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Stop!” Grabbing her by the back of her garment, he pulled her off the male as carefully as he could. He didn’t give a damn if it hurt her rapist but he didn’t want to damage her.

At first she fought him, trying to reach the male who had scrambled away, holding a hand to his bleeding throat and moaning.

“Emily!” Tragar took her by the shoulders and shook her as gently as he could but she kept struggling. He wished he knew her Kit’tara’s name—that would have gotten her attention—but the name of a Khalla’s hidden or second self was a secret known only to herself. He put his face into hers and tried to catch her eyes. “Emily,” he demanded. “Emily Brooks, see me!”

Finally she focused on him. Her eyes were still fiery gold and her ripe scent filled the air. When she spoke, her voice had a strange double echo.

“Who…who are you?” The golden eyes reflected his image back to him—tall and dark and menacing. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Relax,” Tragar rumbled, trying to sound reassuring. Apparently he failed.

“Let me go!” She began to struggle again and this time her pure gold eyes were filled not with fury but with fear. “Let me go, I won’t let you!” She glanced at the blond male who was still moaning and nursing his wounds. “I won’t let you do it! I won’t go through it again—I won’t!”

Tragar felt his heart fist in his chest. Gods, she thought he was a rapist, no better than the bastard that had ripped her maidenhood from her and taken her against her will!

“I’m not what you think,” he said more roughly than he intended. “I didn’t come to rape you, Emily. I was sent here to kill you.”

* * * * *

“Kill me?” For some reason his words calmed her down. Death was better than enduring what Grayson had done to her again. Anything was better than that horrible violation and the feeling of wrongness that accompanied it.

“Yes.” The huge, dark man shook her slightly and looked intently into her eyes. “I’m a paid assassin—one of the Verrak. I was hired to hunt you down and take your life.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Emily lifted her chin, glaring at him. She didn’t know where she got the courage—maybe it was the other who seemed to be taking over more and more.

Her words seemed to have a bad effect on the huge man who was holding her. His eyes glowed with anger and Emily couldn’t help noticing they were the same molten gold she saw herself when she looked in the mirror while the other was coming forward.

“You don’t mean that,” he said roughly. “The life of a Khalla is immeasurably precious.”

Emily had no idea what a “Khalla” was and she didn’t care.

“Why shouldn’t I mean it?” she threw back at him. “Why should I care if you kill me? I’m going crazy anyway. I keep seeing flashes in the mirror—my eyes are changing, my hair is changing—and now apparently I’m turning into some kind of feral wolf girl who gnaws her attacker’s throat.” She cast a glance at Grayson, who was curled up on his side whimpering. Had she really done that? And how in the hell was she going to explain it?

“You’re not crazy, you’re simply going through your Tenrah,” the huge man said patiently. But was he a man? The more Emily looked at him, the more she thought he might be something else—something more than human. He made Richard Grayson, who had seemed so big and scary when he was menacing her, look like a scared little worm.

A Kindred, she thought, taking in his golden eyes and the long, black hair that flowed over his broad shoulders. One of the Beast Kindred—he has to be. He had high cheekbones, a straight nose and a neatly clipped mustache and goatee that framed a strong mouth and sensual lips. The result was a face that was both striking and intensely masculine.

“You’re not crazy,” he repeated, looking at her intently.

“Not crazy, huh?” Emily gave a sobbing little laugh that hurt her throat coming out. “Tell that to Grayson over there.”

“Yes—this male—the one you call Grayson…” He frowned, his face like a thundercloud. “It is time to attend to him.”

He let her go and went over to Grayson who he grabbed by the back of his collar, hauling him into the air as easily as though he was lifting a bag of trash.

Grayson gave a moan of protest and struggled in the huge Kindred’s grip.

“Be still you fucking slime,” the Kindred snarled shaking Grayson so hard his teeth clicked together. “I know what you are and I know what you did—you deserve death many times over.” He looked at Emily. “How shall I dispose of him, Khalla?”

“My name is Emily, not Khalla,” she protested, crossing her arms nervously over her chest. “And what do you mean ‘dispose’ of him?”

“I mean kill him, of course.” He looked surprised that he even had to explain to her. “He deserves death for wounding you so grievously and while I cannot allow you to kill him yourself, I will be more than happy to kill him for you. In fact, it will be my very great pleasure.” He glared at Grayson, his golden eyes fierce with anger.

“Hey, now wait a minute—” Grayson began to protest but the Kindred shook him again.

“Silence, dhag and let your betters speak.”

Emily didn’t know what a dhag was anymore than she knew what Khalla or a Tenrah or any of the other strange, foreign words the Kindred was spouting meant. But she could tell by looking into his eyes that he meant business.

“You’d really kill him?” she asked him.

He nodded shortly. “In any way you see fit. I have a sonic rifle for a quick kill but that wouldn’t be my pick.”

“It…it wouldn’t?” Emily couldn’t stop staring at him.

He shook his head.

“For what he has done, a quick death is too merciful. I also do excellent knife work.” A long, curving silver blade suddenly appeared in one large hand. “But we would need a private location or something to gag him with.”

“A gag? You’re asking me if I have a gag?”

The Kindred nodded and looked speculatively at Grayson who was still hanging from his fist, in his rumpled and bloodied suit.

“There is apt to be a lot of screaming. Would you like to watch me skin him? Or perhaps carve his organs out one by one while he still lives? I can save the heart for last and be certain he feels intense pain to the very end.”

“Oh my God,” Emily whispered faintly. “You…you’re serious, aren’t you?”

Grayson seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

“Please!” He wriggled like a hooked fish in the immense Kindred’s grip. “Please don’t—don’t let him, Emily. I never would have hurt you—I was just playing a joke.”

Emily glared at him. “Some joke. Following me to my house to…to…” But she found she couldn’t get the words out with the big Kindred standing right there. “It was no joke,” she finished angrily.

“Tell me how to kill him—what end would best meet your thirst for vengeance?” the huge Kindred rumbled, looking down at her. “Tell me Khalla and it shall be done.”

For a moment Emily was severely tempted. How many times had she fantasized about a moment like this when she was trying to heal from Grayson’s attack? Well, not a moment exactly like this, she acknowledged to herself. She’d never in her wildest dreams imagined a huge avenging Kindred coming to her rescue and offering to carve up Grayson’s liver and save his heart for last. But still—she’d wished her rapist dead more times than she could count. And yet, now when it came down to it, she found she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t kill him or have him killed in cold blood.

A moment ago when the other had taken over she could have done it easily—could have ripped out his throat and bathed in the fountain of crimson that pulsed from the ragged hole in his neck. But now that she was herself again and sanity had reasserted itself, a thousand questions came crowding into her mind.

If they killed Grayson, where could they hide the body? Even if they could find a good place, she was certain the death would eventually come back to haunt her—both literally and figuratively. And how could she explain it when they found his corpse in a shallow grave and some hair or fiber evidence or the DNA she’d left when she bit and scratched him tied her to the case?

Yes officer, he raped me back in college and I figured revenge was a dish best served cold…no, there’s no record of the attack…no I never reported it… Right. She doubted the police would buy it.

And then there was the fact that Mrs. Peltz had accused her of being on drugs. Emily could just imagine the story the prosecution would spin…a teacher high on some kind of mind altering substance…a brutal murder…a botched cover up…

They’ll put me under the jail, she thought dismally. Or else lock me in some mental health facility with padded walls. I’ll never see the light of day again.

No, she regretfully acknowledged to herself, it wasn’t worth it. As much as she wanted to see Grayson dead for what he’d done to her, losing the rest of her life for revenge didn’t make sense.

“Let him go,” she told the big Kindred who was standing motionless, waiting to hear her decision. He was holding Grayson aloft as though it was nothing to hold a two hundred and fifty pound weight over his head with one hand. “Just…let him go.”

“After what he did?” The golden eyes widened and then narrowed. “No—there must be retribution.”

“If you punish him, the police are going to punish me,” Emily told him shortly. “So let him go.”

“At least let me cripple him.” His voice was a low, menacing growl. “I can break his spine with ease. He’ll never walk again.”

“No.” Suddenly Emily was tired of the whole mess. “No let him go and you go too.” She lifted her chin. “Unless you’re still planning to kill me?”

The Kindred didn’t give her an answer. Instead he simply glared and shook his head. Then he left her front yard, still holding Grayson by the scruff of his neck. The Mexican Breadfruit bushes rustled with his passing.

Suddenly all the strength seemed to run out of her legs and Emily sank down on the first step of her front porch. She took the corner of her skirt and wiped at her chin where Grayson’s blood was drying, then spat in the grass until she got the coppery taste out of her mouth.

“What a weird, awful day,” she whispered to herself and put her arms around her knees. She wanted to go inside and fix a cup of hot tea and then call Anna and pour out the whole crazy mess. Her older sister was the only person she could think of who might even come close to grasping the bizarre details of what she’d just gone through.

Dimly, through the bushes, Emily heard the big Kindred’s deep, growling voice interspersed with Grayson’s whiney begging and crying and a few muffled shrieks. Then a door slammed and a motor gunned into life.

That’s it—they’re done and now he’s coming for me. She knew she ought to get up and run into the house—call 911 and beg them to send a squad car to protect her. She thought of the long silver knife in the Kindred’s big hand and shivered. And yet, somehow she couldn’t make herself move. She was too bone weary—worn out both emotionally and physically.

Let the big Kindred come for her—she didn’t care anymore. No doubt Richard Grayson was on his cell phone right now spreading lies about her to the principal, Ms. Edwards and anyone else who would listen. Her career was over and her life was in ruins—not to mention she was still clearly going crazy. Nothing mattered.

She rested her head on her arms and waited for the inevitable.

Chapter Five

The Kindred came back into view soon enough, moving as silently as a jungle cat through the dense bushes that screened her house. With his golden eyes and long, wild black hair he reminded Emily of a panther. She shivered as she watched him come, her determination not to care about her fate slipping just a little. What if he wanted to kill her the way he’d offered to kill Grayson? What if he decided to gut her like a trout?

Suddenly she wanted desperately to jump up and run inside the house but before she could even get up, he was standing right in front of her. To her surprise, he held out a hand to help her up.

Hesitantly she reached for it but the moment their hands touched, a strange shiver of sensation ran through her. It was like the waves of heat that had been consuming her lately but different…more intense.

“God!” Emily gasped as her nipples hardened into tight points and the place between her legs went suddenly liquid with desire. What the hell? She snatched her hand back in fright and huddled into herself. “What…what did you do to me?” She looked up at the big Kindred mistrustfully.

“Nothing.” He frowned, his hand still outstretched. “I simply wished to assist you.”

“Assist me to what? To feel…to feel…” But Emily had no name for the strange rush of emotions and sensations that simple touch had made her feel. She’d had no sexual desires at all since the rape back in college. None since that fateful night when the other and the strange heat waves had pushed her relentlessly to find a man…and then deserted her when she finally had found one. Emily had believed that part of her was dead—buried by the trauma of the rape. And now, years later, to have such a strong wave of desire rush over her so suddenly for no apparent reason…

No, there is a reason, she told herself, looking up at the Kindred. He’s the reason. But how the hell did he do that? And why?

“Khalla?” He was still looking at her expectantly, clearly puzzled by her reaction. So whatever he’d done, he hadn’t done it on purpose. Had he?

“I told you, that’s not my name.” Emily kept her distance from his still outstretched hand.

“Forgive me, Emily.” He bowed to her in an oddly formal way. “I am Rivin Tragar of the Verrak but you may know me simply as Tragar. I had forgotten you don’t have any knowledge of me, though I have been watching you for days.”

“You have?” She felt even more uneasy.

“Of course,” he said patiently. “I told you, you have been targeted for termination. I was sent to kill you.”

This again.

“Great.” She began to edge away from him, wondering if she could possibly hop up and somehow get inside the house before he could grab her. But her purse was somewhere on the grass out by her car. How could she—?

“I am not going to kill you now, of course.”

“You’re not?” Emily stopped her edging and looked at him uncertainly. Was he lying to throw her off her guard?

“Of course not. That would be tantamount to defiling a precious piece of art—desecrating a treasure of incalculable worth,” he said gravely. “A Khalla must be protected at all costs, which is why I must ask you to come with me.”

“Ask me to what?” Emily began scooting again in a hurry. “Come with you where?”

“Back to my ship. First I must endeavor to get the contract I was given to kill you revoked. Then we must be certain that no one else is attempting to assassinate you. Once I am sure of your safety, I’ll take you back to Rageron.”

“Rageron? You mean the Kindred home world?”

“It is one of them.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I assume you don’t wish to stay here while going through your Tenrah. You need to go back home where there are suitable males to choose from.”

“Back home? You mean you think that Rageron is my home?” Emily shook her head, not understanding him.

“Of course.” He frowned. “You are clearly Khalla—your scent proclaims it as do the changes in your eyes and hair when your Kit’tara comes forward.”

“Wait a minute—you know about that?” Emily sat up straighter and stared at him. “You know about my eyes? And the…what did you call it? The thing coming forward?”

“The Kit’tara—your secret or second self.” He frowned. “Do you truly not know about these things? How can you be so ignorant of your rightful heritage?”

“I don’t have any ‘heritage’,” Emily protested. “Other than being a Floridian. I was born right here in Tampa at Saint Joe’s hospital.”

“Impossible,” he said flatly. “The Kindred haven’t been on this planet long enough for you to have been born here.”

“But I’m not Kindred,” Emily said, exasperated. “You have me confused with someone else.”

He looked at her, his golden eyes narrowed.

“I could not confuse your sweet scent with another’s in a thousand years, Emily. You are Khalla—there is no denying it. As a male of the Beast Kindred I am sworn to protect you to the last breath in my body and the last drop of my blood.”

“Well thanks. That’s, uh, really nice.” She was edging away again, eyeing him mistrustfully. “Maybe we could talk about it later? It’s been a long day and I could really use some alone time right about now if you don’t mind. I mean not to be rude but—”

He blew out an exasperated breath.

“Have you not heard a word I said to you? Someone wants you dead. And the male who put the contract on you all but promised me I wasn’t the only assassin assigned to target you. Every minute you’re out here alone in this unprotected place you’re in danger.”

“I’m not unprotected—I have an alarm system,” Emily protested.

“The one with the code numbers 7-17-27?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Hey!” Emily put her arms around herself and shivered. “That’s private!”

“Yet it was one of the first things I found out about you when I started my surveillance.” The big Kindred crossed his arms over his broad, muscular chest and frowned at her. “I could have come into your domicile any night and killed you as you slept.”

“Ugh!” Emily shuddered involuntarily. “What a horrible thing to say! And you wonder why I don’t want to go anywhere with you?”

“I’m simply stating the facts. I’m a very good assassin—I haven’t missed a target yet. But it wouldn’t take a member of the Verrak to take you out. Any fool with a sonic rifle and a scope could do it.” He motioned to her front lawn. “Look how your sight lines are blocked by vegetation—foolish! The locks on your doors are easily pickable and even if they were not, the doors themselves are made of such flimsy material they could be forced with very little effort.”

“Oh my God.” Emily leaned away from him. “You really have been studying me. Watching me…waiting for the right opportunity to…to…” But she couldn’t finish the thought.

“As I told you—I was hired to kill you.”

He shrugged, his massive shoulders rolling with the gesture. He was wearing a black leather vest which left his arms free. On the right one was an intricate tattoo of black cross hatched lines that ran from shoulder to wrist. For a moment it almost seemed to pulse—the lines wriggling along his tan skin.

“Even now the narsh calls to me, reminding me that I have given my word to kill you,” he said, nodding at the tattoo she was studying. “But I will not answer its call. Though I have turned my back on everything else I ever believed, I cannot violate my most basic instincts—you are a Khalla in danger here and you must be protected.”

“I don’t know you—I never met you until fifteen minutes ago!” Emily was up on her feet now, backing away. “How do I know you’re not just making up some kind of story to get me to come with you? I mean, maybe you’re some kind of…of Kindred serial killer and you just want to take me back to your ship and go all Silence of the Lambs on me. Maybe you want to wear my skin and eat my liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti!”

He frowned and looked down at his large black boots. He appeared to consider for a while before answering. At last he looked up.

“I can see why my words would seem suspect to you. If you truly believe yourself to be human and you have no knowledge of your true birthright, everything I have told you would sound like an elaborate lie to lure you away to your death.”

“Damn right, that’s exactly how it sounds!” Emily said in a shaking voice. “So just stay away from me!”

“Emily…Khalla…” He took a step towards her and she backed up some more.

“I said stay away! I’m not who you think I am—you have me confused with someone else.”

Still he kept advancing, as silent and as menacing as a panther that had somehow escaped its cage to go wandering around a residential area.

Emily looked around wildly, trying to find a way out of this situation. Maybe she could get around to the back door where she kept a key under a fake rock…

“That’s him, officer! That’s the man I saw coming up here!” The high, quavering voice of Mrs. Harmon, Emily’s nosy next door neighbor, suddenly split the tense silence between them.

Oh, thank God!

Emily looked up with relief to see two police officers, guns drawn, advancing up her driveway. Behind them, wearing a pink flowered muumuu was Mrs. Harmon. Her gray hair was already up in curlers for the night even though it wasn’t yet five o’clock.

Emily thought she had never been so glad to see her nosy neighbor in her life. When she’d first moved in, Mrs. Harmon had made her life semi-miserable coming over constantly with pies and casseroles and invitations to join this book club and that bridge club and every other intrusive thing under the sun. Now Emily swore to herself that she’d join anything her neighbor asked her to, no matter how irritating it seemed.

Of course Mrs. Harmon was a little late—it would have been nice to have help while Grayson was menacing her. But his blond American good looks and expensive suit probably hadn’t pinged her elderly neighbor’s radar nearly as hard as the big Kindred’s long hair, tattoos, and leather vest. Not to mention his sheer size and his brilliant golden eyes.

That’s him—that’s him,” Mrs. Harmon exclaimed again, pointing at the Kindred who’d said his name was Tragar. “Get him, officers!”

“Just stand back, Ma’am,” one of the policemen said to Mrs. Harmon. “We can handle it from here.”

“You’d better handle it! I told you what I saw him do to that other man’s hand! And poor Emily is all alone here since she still doesn’t have a husband.”

Emily felt a little of her goodwill and gratitude slipping. She tried to remind herself that her neighbor came from a generation that believed getting married and having kids was every woman’s sole purpose in life but it was still irritating to hear the tone of pity in Mrs. Harmon’s voice—as though being single was some kind of disease Emily was afflicted with.

“Ma’am,” the officer said, this time speaking to Emily. “Are you all right? Is this individual harming or threatening you in any way?”

“I—” Emily began but she didn’t know what to say. Both the policemen and the big Kindred were staring at her, waiting. “He…said he was sent here to kill me,” she said at last. “But then he said he wouldn’t,” she continued quickly as Mrs. Harmon sucked in a gasp of dismay. “Because I’m, uh, special somehow. Some kind of something that needs to be protected.”

“Sir, I think you’d better come with us,” the second officer said to Tragar.

The big Kindred shook his head, not even looking at the police. His eyes were locked on Emily’s, giving her the uncomfortable sensation that he could somehow see through her.

“Khalla,” he said softly in that deep, rumbling voice of his. “You are making a mistake. You’re not safe here.”

“I—” But before Emily could say anything else he simply melted into the bushes at the edge of her lawn and disappeared.

“What the hell! Stop—that’s an order!” the first policeman yelled, running for the Breadfruit bushes.

“Did you see where he went?” The second officer went running into the bushes too, gun ready.

But though the two of them searched the bushes with increasing urgency and anger, they couldn’t find even a trace of the huge, golden-eyed Kindred.

He was simply gone.

* * * * *

Tragar moved his vehicle a few blocks down and parked on the other side of the street. Then he enabled the light refracting tech and sat there, invisible for all intents and purposes, to watch the peace keeping officers search for him.

Emily was still outside too—he caught a glimpse of her through the large gaps the officers had made in the vegetation while searching for him. She was standing there—as much a target as ever—talking to her elderly neighbor. The same female who apparently hadn’t been a bit worried when that bastard of a rapist had come upon Emily by herself and unarmed but had decided the law must be called when a male like himself came on the scene. They seemed to be talking and Tragar could imagine what they were saying—Emily was probably confiding the whole, frightening story to the older female who was no doubt consoling her.

He cursed himself for a fool as he watched. Why had he told her he was there to kill her—that she was a target for termination? And why had he revealed that he knew all the particulars of her flimsy security system? At the time, he’d been simply trying to convince her she wasn’t safe and needed to come with him. In retrospect, he could see how his words would come across as menacing and ominous.

I actually told her I could have come into her domicile and killed her at any time I wanted. Gods, what’s wrong with me? She’s probably frightened to death of me and rightfully so.

It had to be her scent affecting his mind to make him act so stupid. Gods, he’d never smelled a Khalla in heat before but his old instructor, Xen’dex, had told him he would never be able to mistake it if he did. And he had been completely right—Emily smelled like a warm, ripe fruit, ready to be plucked.

Tragar wondered how long she’d been in Tenrah. Such a state was very dangerous but he was more concerned with the fact that someone else might be targeting her now. His ten solar days were officially up and the narsh on his arm was burning. There might not be a formal time limit set in his contract but Emily’s time was clearly running out.

Another thing bothered him too. He’d told her they would try to get the contract on her life revoked but he knew such things were not done—not in the Verrak. Once a contract was taken, it must be finished—either with the death of the target or the death of the assassin who had failed to kill said target. For years Tragar had courted death—hoping in his secret heart that each new target would be the one who was able to kill him. But now he felt differently—he had a purpose again, other than seeking death. A Khalla must be protected, no matter what the cost.

That cost is apt to be very high, you know, whispered a little voice in his brain. Up to and including your life.

Tragar shook his head, pushing the thought away. He would deal with the contract and his violation of it when the time came. For right now, he simply wanted to keep her safe. Unfortunately she had hidden herself away in her flimsy dwelling, preferring the illusion of security to the harsh reality that she was in danger.

He wondered if there was any way to get to her before it was too late.

Chapter Six

Emily settled down for the night and pulled the covers all the way up to her chin. For the hundredth time she wished she’s taken her big sister Anna’s offer to stay at her place tonight. Actually, it hadn’t been so much an offer as an order.

“You’re coming here tonight and that’s settled!” Anna had insisted when Emily had spilled out the whole messy story on the phone—after she’d finally gotten rid of Mrs. Harmon, that was, which had taken forever.

“I don’t know,” Emily had hedged.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You just told me that not one but two men tried to attack you today! And one of them is Richard Grayson, that son of a bitch! You need to come over here now!”

Emily had shifted uncomfortably, glad her older sister couldn’t see her. She hadn’t been completely honest about what had happened, especially when it came to Grayson. After all, how could she explain that she’d gone feral and nearly ripped his throat out? She’d never told Anna about the other inside her—had never told anyone. In her version of events, the Kindred warrior had come just in time and broken up the encounter. Which he had, but not before she’d bitten a chunk out of Grayson’s neck.

Speaking of Grayson, where was he now? Since she had yet to get a call from the police or a lawyer saying they were filing charges, she had reason to hope that he would leave the matter well enough alone. But you never could tell…

“You need to come stay with me,” Anna had said again. “You know you can always have the guest room.”

Right—the one right beside the nursery? I don’t think so, Emily thought. If she really was in danger, she didn’t want to bring that danger into her beloved sister’s house, especially if it might affect her new little niece and nephew. That was the main reason she’d decided to stay put in her own place. The place where that huge Kindred knows your alarm code, a snarky little voice in the back of her brain reminded her. But Emily had pushed it to the side.

“I’ll be fine,” she’d told her sister. “The police have left a squad car right outside in my driveway and there’s going to be an officer watching all night long. Nobody’s getting anywhere near me.” She hoped, anyway.

“Well…all right.” Anna had sounded really unhappy about it but Emily could also hear the fatigue in her voice. The twins had been keeping her up all night, giving her precious little sleep. The last thing she needed was to worry about her sister. After a few more exchanges, Emily had finally gotten off the phone and had gone to do her usual night time routine.

She had thought that her nightly bubble bath and a glass of white wine would help her relax but she’d been looking over her shoulder the entire time she was in the tub and jumping at the least little thing. Every sound made her wonder if Grayson or the huge Kindred warrior was coming in the back door, every whisper of a tree branch against the windows sounded like someone slitting the screen with a long silver knife to get to her.

It’s no wonder I can’t relax, Emily told herself, as she lay there rigid in her bed. After the day I’ve had and having to see Grayson again after all these years…But though confronting her rapist was extremely distressing, it was the things the big Kindred had said to her which kept coming back to haunt her.

“Khalla” that’s what he called me. What does that mean? And why should it make me so precious—someone to protect rather than kill? Unless he really did want to kill her after all and was just trying to trick her into coming with him.

But then, how had he known about her eyes? And about the other inside her? Why had he thought she was from Rageron instead of Earth? Most of all, why had touching him affected her so strangely? She could still feel the tingle of his hand on hers, could still remember the way her body had reacted so strongly to that simple touch—how he had awakened a part of her she’d thought was dead and buried.

Emily sighed and turned over. There were a lot of questions she was probably never going to get the answers to. At least, if she was lucky. Because she certainly didn’t want the big Kindred coming after her again.

She had almost fallen asleep completely when she heard a soft, high-pitched whining sound right outside her bedroom window.

“What in the world?” She sat up at once, heart pounding as the sound came again. What was it? It sounded for all the world like a lost puppy but could it be some kind of a trick?

Sliding out of bed, she dropped to all fours and crawled across the darkened floor to the bedroom window, where she twitched the shade to one side so she could see out. She felt ridiculous acting like a character in a spy movie but she didn’t want to take any chances.

The window opened onto her small back yard which was currently bathed in shadows. At first she couldn’t see anything but then the soft, pitiful whining came again and she thought she saw the glint of moonlight off a pair of big, sad eyes. Was there a puppy out there? And was it hurt? It certainly sounded hurt.

Emily knew she shouldn’t let herself be affected but she couldn’t help it—the noise tore at her heart. She was a confirmed dog lover herself and her ancient Lab, Chewy, had just died a few months back. Emily had owned him for years and it had hurt her dreadfully to lose him. Still, in the back of her mind she had known she would eventually get another dog. Probably not a puppy—they were a lot of work. She’d been intending to go to the shelter when she was ready and find a young rescue dog that needed a home and some love.

The whining sounded again and Emily sighed. Okay, maybe a puppy was in the cards after all. Chewy had come to her the same way—showing up in her yard with scruffy, matted fur and a huge laceration along one side that left a scar. It looked like some asshole had simply tossed the dog out of a moving car and left him on the side of the road to die. Emily had taken him to the vet and cleaned him up and they had been inseparable after that. Maybe fate was taking a hand again—sending her a new puppy to care for to make up for the generally all around crappy day she’d had.

Emily hoped so anyway.

As she went around to the back door, she heard the Kindred’s voice in her head again. “Have you not heard a word I said to you? Someone wants you dead. Every minute you’re out here alone in this unprotected place you’re in danger.”

But I’m not unprotected—there’s a policeman right outside in my driveway! That nice Officer Lawry. He’d introduced himself personally and Emily had made him a cup of coffee to keep off the chill of the cold night. He was out there right now, sitting in his squad car making sure no one and nothing could hurt her.

Still, the big Kindred’s words gave her pause. Danger, whispered a voice in her head—the voice of the other.

Leave me alone, Emily told it. I’m fine—I’ll be fine if you’ll just go away and leave me alone!

Danger! insisted the other again.

Emily hesitated with her hand on the door knob but then the whining sounded again. This time it was closer and there was definitely a note of pain in it. She couldn’t help seeing a puppy in her mind’s eye—a soft little bundle of fur maybe with cuts and bruises like Chewy had had or maybe even with a broken paw…people were so cruel to animals. He might have been thrown from a car or just left to die. She couldn’t ignore that kind of pain—she couldn’t.

Pushing the other’s warning to the back of her mind, she opened the door just a crack and peered out into the dark, chilly night.

“Here, boy,” she called softly, shivering as a gust of cold air whirled around her bare ankles. Wrapping her robe more closely around her, she stared hard into the shadows that filled her back yard, looking for where the sound was coming from.

Under the robe she had on a short, silky nighty that was pale blue with a lace hem. Also, another gust of cold air reminded her she was barefoot. She wished she would have taken the time to put on her fuzzy slippers and was just about to go get them but just then the whining sounded again, this time from her right. Well, it was too late now—she’d just have to get cold feet.

“Here, boy. Come here, it’s all right now—it’s all right…” Emily risked stepping outside her door. The whining stopped for a moment and then intensified. Once again she thought she saw the gleam of eyes in the darkness. She had the definite feeling that the puppy wanted to come to her but it was afraid.

“It’s okay, little guy,” she whispered soothingly walking out into the dark yard. The grass was damp and cold under her feet and a chilly breeze was sliding through the leaves, making an eerie whispering sound. Emily barely heard it. She was completely focused on finding the puppy now—not thinking at all of any kind of danger that might be waiting.

In her mind’s eye she could see it—a fuzzy, matted little bundle of fur with big brown eyes and a long, taffy-pink tongue. She still had a can of Chewy’s favorite soft food in the cupboard. She would coax the puppy inside and warm the little guy up and feed him. She might have to try and give him a bath if he was really dirty or hurt but—

She stopped—her thoughts going blank. Her half frozen toes had brushed against something slippery and warm.

What in the world…?

Emily looked down and the moon, which had been hiding behind a cloud, chose that moment to appear. A scream rose in her throat as she saw what she’d stepped on. Or maybe stepped in would be a better way to describe it, whispered a hysterical little voice in her head.

Lying on the ground, face up and half hidden in the too-long grass she should have had cut ages ago, was Officer Lawry. It was his eyes Emily had seen glinting in the darkness—they were wide open and staring sightlessly into the night sky. And it was his blood she’d stepped in. Looking more closely, she saw in horror that there was a huge, jagged wound in his throat—a gaping hole where his windpipe should have been. Someone or something had ripped his throat out and Emily had just stepped in what remained of it.

The scream that was building in her throat suddenly burst out, shrill and breathless and not nearly as loud as she’d thought it would be. At the same time the whining sounded again but this time it was different. It started out in a high, pitiful tone and then slid down into a much lower, more ominous register. Soon it had become a growl.

Danger—I told you—danger! The other was suddenly back.

Yeah, right. Not that you’re being very helpful, just saying “I told you so” Emily thought at it wildly. Thanks a lot! Why don’t you just—

Her thoughts were cut off abruptly by what she saw.

Out of the shadows of the tropical plants surrounding her yard stepped a beast.

Emily didn’t need the other to tell her she was in trouble. She wanted to run but she felt frozen to the spot.

Still growling, the thing came towards her. It was clearly an animal but like none she had ever seen before. It had silver skin for one thing and glowing red eyes which were completely focused on her. She would have thought it was some kind of robot but it moved so smoothly, so naturally…it seemed hard to believe anything mechanical could move like that.

It most reminded her of a Doberman Pincer but it was huge—Emily had never seen anything like it. There was a dark stain on its silver muzzle that let her know what had happened to poor Officer Lawry.

“Please,” she whispered, trying to back away slowly. “Please, just stay back, stay away…”

For a moment she thought she saw its eyes grow even brighter—a deep, ominous crimson that illuminated its bloody muzzle and snarling, silver teeth. Then it crouched and sprang, leaping at her with deadly intent.

Emily gasped and tried to scramble backwards but there was no way she was going to make it—the huge silver beast was unnaturally fast. It was going to kill her—going to rip out her throat just as it had done to Officer Lawry. It—

There was a sudden, deafening blast of noise beside her and the silver beast was knocked off course. It jerked to the side with a startled whine and collapsed on the grass in a twisted heap beside the body of the fallen policeman.

Emily gave a squeak of surprise and stared uncomprehending at the crumpled beast at her feet. It was as though a huge fist had simply punched it out of the air. Even as she watched the red light behind its eyes was dying. It gave a soft, final whimper—the puppy sound it had used to lure her out into the yard—and then stopped moving.

“Oh my God,” Emily whispered. All the strength seemed to have run out of her legs and she felt like she was going to fall. She started to sag to the cold grass but suddenly a large, warm hand gripped her arm, pulling her upright.

“I told you it wasn’t safe here,” a deep, rumbling voice said in her ear.

Emily turned her head and saw the huge Kindred warrior standing there. What had he said he name was? Telgar? Tragar? He had one hand wrapped around her arm and the other held a handgun type weapon with a muzzle as wide as a shotgun.

“I…you…” She didn’t know what to say—both her tongue and her brain felt numb. “What…what was that?” she finally managed, nodding at the twisted silver heap.

“Sniffer. Used by the Dark Kindred to sniff out emotions only in this case, it was tuned exclusively to you.” He frowned. “Not surprising since the male who put the contract on you was Dark Kindred. He must have decided I was taking too long to do the job.”

“Oh my God,” Emily whispered faintly. “You mean…there really is someone trying to kill me?”

“Didn’t I tell you so earlier?” He frowned at her.

“Yes but…” Emily shook her head. “But I didn’t know what to believe—it didn’t seem real.”

“The threat is real, all right.” He sounded grim. “And where there’s one sniffer, there are usually more. Maybe even a pack of them. Come on—we have to get away.”

“Get away?” He was already dragging her across the dark lawn but Emily dug in her heels, trying unsuccessfully to put on the brakes. “Wait a minute, what do you mean? Where are you taking me?”

“With me. To my ship.”

“What? No!” She tried to break free of his grip but it was like trying to break out of handcuffs—there was no way. “Stop!” she exclaimed. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

The big Kindred paused his relentless forward motion for a moment and looked at her.

“Khalla,” he began.

“That’s not my name!”

“Emily, then. I am aware that this is a distressing situation for you but it’s also very dangerous. We need to go before more sniffers show up to finish the job.”

Me—I’m the job! Emily thought and shivered.

“But why can’t we just go inside my house and lock the doors? We can call the police—tell them what happened.”

He gave her an incredulous look.

“Why? So more of them can be killed? I may be an assassin but I do not condone unnecessary death. Besides, as I pointed out earlier, the defenses of your domicile are extremely flimsy. We would simply be backing ourselves into a corner, waiting to be attacked.”

“But—”

Her words were cut off by a long, liquid howl. It was far in the distance but it sounded like it was getting closer.

“Come on!” The big Kindred tugged on her arm but the bone chilling sound had frozen Emily to the spot. She literally couldn’t move.

“I…I can’t,” she whispered. “Please…I just can’t.”

To her surprise, the Kindred crouched down so that he could get eye to eye with her and looked into her face. His voice, when he spoke, was surprisingly gentle.

“Emily,” he murmured. “I am sorry that the idea of leaving with me distresses you. However, it is better for you to be distressed than for you to be dead. And since I am sworn to protect you, I have to act in your best interests, even if you dislike it.”

“But I—oh!” Her words ended in a gasp because he had reached down and scooped her up, wrapping her in his massive arms as though she weighed no more than a kitten.

“Hey, let me down—let me go!” Emily beat against his broad chest but it did exactly as much good as if she’d been beating against a brick wall. The Kindred jogged quickly around the side of the house and out into the street, ignoring her completely.

“Forgive me, Khalla,” he said formally, opening the door of a plain black car and shoving her inside. “For your own safety, I need to take you with me.”

* * * * *

Somewhere in the darkness of a ruined laboratory on the home world of the Dark Kindred, something stirred to life. A tube filled with nutrient bath stood in the shadows and its single occupant was waking.

Black eyes with reddish glints opened as the dense, nutrient-rich liquid began to drain. Hair the same, strange color hung around a strong, cruelly handsome face.

“Wake,” hissed a voice in the creature’s ear. Or was it in his head? “It is time to wake—the sniffers have failed. The girl yet lives. Steps must be taken and you, my scion, are the one to take them.”

The creature opened his mouth for the first time and spoke his first words.

“Yes, Master. As you say.”

“Good.” The voice in his head sounded pleased. “I am glad I thought to implant a personality chip of myself in your head before I allowed X to kill my mortal shell. It’s so much better than simply being dead. I live on in you, my scion, and you will do exactly as I say.”

“Yes, Master,” murmured the creature again. The last of the nutrient bath had drained away now and he stood, nude and hugely muscular in the empty tube, awaiting orders. “What must I do?” he asked.

“Well, step out of the tube and dry off to start with. We have much to do, my scion.”

“You are the Master,” the creature murmured in a low, rough voice. He stepped from the tube into the coldness of the ruined laboratory. “But…who am I?” he asked.

There was a pause and then a snigger of unpleasant laughter in his brain.

“I think I’ll call you Y,” said the Master. “Now get moving—as I said, we have much to do. The girl must die.”

Chapter Seven

“Meet Rone and Kate Y’ven. They’re professional trackers.” Sylvan nodded at the two people standing beside him in the Kindred Council chamber. “Or rather Rone is—he’s a Wulven Kindred.”

“A what?” Thrace frowned at the two who were obviously a couple standing before the large semicircular table. He still didn’t know why he personally had been invited to a Kindred Council meeting. After all—he was Havoc, not Kindred. But Commander Sylvan had been very insistent that he come. So here he was, sitting at the very end of the table and waiting to see what was going on.

“A Wulven Kindred—there aren’t many of us,” the male said, stepping forward. He had bright blue eyes which seemed to glow when he turned his head. His thick, dark hair was cut short to show slightly pointed ears. But the ears and eyes weren’t the only thing about him that struck Thrace as strange. The big male was somehow animalistic in the way he moved and spoke. It was almost as though there was a beast lurking just below that glowing blue gaze. Yet his female didn’t seem frightened. Though she was so petite she appeared absolutely tiny next to him, she looked up at her male with love and adoration.

Just the way Trin looks at me, Thrace thought and had a slight twinge of guilt. He loved Trin with all his heart and was very happily bonded to her but there was something that had been bothering him lately—something in the back of his brain that wouldn’t let him rest when he thought of his beloved.

“There weren’t enough of the Wulven people to make a full trade,” Commander Sylvan said, pulling Thrace out of his contemplation.

“Ha!” The big Wulven gave a barking laugh. “Don’t pretend that’s the only reason many of the Kindred didn’t want to bond with us, Commander.”

“Regardless,” Commander Sylvan said. “For whatever reason, there are very few Wulven Kindred. However, their tracking skills are unparalleled.” He nodded at Rone. “Which is why I asked you here in the first place.”

“So he’s going to try to track the Earth girl? The one targeted for assassination by the Verrak?” another Council member asked. “I thought we had yet to locate her.”

“That’s where Kate comes in,” the Wulven Kindred said, nodding at the slim female beside him.

“I brought Rone in to track the Earth girl we’re looking for,” Commander Sylvan said. “But he asked that we allow his mate, Kate to help.”

“Forgive me but if you’re the tracker, how can your mate help?” Thrace asked, frowning.

“Kate has a gift. She knows things about people sometimes,” Rone said.

He drew his mate forward and her long, curly hair glinted under the overhead glows. It was an unusual color, Thrace thought, even for an Earth girl. Not really red but not really blonde either—it was as though someone had mixed strands of both in her hair with the result being a fiery mass of coppery ringlets that surrounded her elfin face. Her eyes were extraordinary too— clear green with gold flecks.

“The Knowing…that’s what my Mama always called it. It’s a family thing.” Kate was blushing but she held her head high. “It doesn’t always work but I’ve been able to help Rone in the past—especially in cases like this where you don’t even know where to begin.”

“We’re a team,” Rone said. “And if Kate can tell me where to start looking, I’ll have a much better chance of catching the scent.”

“Well, all right…” Thrace shook his head and looked at Commander Sylvan. “I’m glad you have someone with such excellent credentials working on this but to be honest, I still don’t understand why I’m here. I mean, I’m not even Kindred.”

“No, but you’re the only one who’s seen the girl we’re looking for,” Commander Sylvan said.

“Only in a vision given to me by Two—that sick bastard,” Thrace growled. The Dark Kindred who had finally been killed by his own scion was still a sore point with him. Because of him, Thrace had nearly lost Trin completely and he would never forget or forgive that.

“Yes, but that might be enough to give Kate’s gift room to work,” Rone said. “If you could just let her touch you—”

“I already did that with Commander Sylvan’s kin—the priestess, Nadiah,” Thrace objected. And he’d been reluctant to do it then. There were memories in his past, secrets he didn’t want anyone seeing. Trin was the only one who knew and she loved him anyway. But as far as Thrace was concerned, no one else needed to see what he’d survived.

The tiny Earth girl seemed to understand his concern.

“Don’t worry,” she said soothingly. “I’m not interested in looking at your past—just the vision you saw. I won’t go rooting around in your head, honest.”

“Well…” Thrace frowned. “I’m not even sure what you could see.”

She shrugged her slim shoulders.

“Maybe nothing. But maybe I’ll get a flash of where the girl is and be able to lead Rone to her. It’s worth a try, don’t you think?”

“There is no obligation, of course,” Commander Sylvan said. “But we would greatly appreciate it if you would try to help Rone and his mate find the girl. You know as well as we do what she faces if the Verrak assassin takes her.”

Thrace sighed. The Verrak were cold and utterly ruthless. Death was the best the girl could hope for if the assassin got to her before they could. Most Verrak killed their target and left them in plain sight—a message to whoever had wanted them dead in the first place. But there were tales of some who took their prey to another location and played with them cruelly before finally taking their lives. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“Yes, I know. Very well…” He looked at Rone’s petite mate. “I’ll touch hands with you—that’s all. But not in public—not here in the Council Chambers.”

“Of course not,” Commander Sylvan said swiftly. “Completely understandable. Please feel free to step into the antechamber outside.”

“Agreed.” Thrace nodded shortly and left the chamber, followed closely by Rone and his mate.

Once outside with the doors closed, he turned to face them.

“Well then, let’s get this over with.”

Silently, Kate held out her hand. It was tiny, even smaller than Trin’s and it was swallowed completely when Thrace took it in his own. She closed her eyes and Thrace watched her warily, waiting to feel her in his brain. But there was nothing—just the feel of her cool, smooth hand in his and the rapid, light beat of her pulse in the tiny, bird-like wrist.

Gods, he couldn’t help wondering how Rone was able to love her without breaking her. She was so tiny—so delicate looking with her mass of red and gold curls and her pale skin. Was he concerned when they were together that he might hurt her?

Finally she opened her eyes and looked up at Thrace.

“Two things—first, I’m tougher than I look.”

Thrace pulled his hand away quickly.

“You never said anything about reading thoughts!”

“I didn’t and I can’t. But sometimes when I touch someone I get a sense of what they’re thinking or feeling. So I appreciate your concern for me but I assure you, Rone is very, very gentle.”

Thrace was convinced that her mate would be angry but Rone only sighed and shook his head.

“Worried about you was he? With a big, hulking male like me?”

Kate nodded.

“Well, you have to admit you’re a scary looking guy.” She grinned at him and he smiled back.

“Forgive me,” Thrace said. “I never meant…”

“It’s all right.” Rone shook his head. “We get that a lot—especially when people find out I’m Wulven.”

Thrace shook his head.

“I don’t understand. I’m Havoc myself, not Kindred. And honestly, I’d never heard of Wulven Kindred until now.”

“We have a double nature,” Rone explained. Much like the Rai’ku Kindred.”

“Now them I have heard of. My mate’s friend has what the humans call a brother-in-law who is Rai’ku Kindred. ” Thrace frowned. “Don’t they have a ravenous beast within which comes out and devours females?”

“That’s right.” Rone nodded easily, his blue eyes gleaming.

“So you’re the same?” Thrace stared at him. It would certainly explain the strange animalistic air of the other male.

“In a way. Of course, our beast isn’t the same as the Rai’kus’ but it can be deadly to the wrong person.”

“Which is anyone but the female who tames it.” Kate’s voice held a hint of pride. Clearly she had accomplished this task and had no fear of her mate’s beast.

“But enough about us,” Rone looked at his mate. “Did you get anything?”

“Sure did—she’s in Southeast US. Or she was in the past twenty-four hours.”

“And you know this for sure?” Thrace asked.

She nodded. “Positive. Where exactly is a little harder to say—maybe the Northern part? Anyway, it helps narrow things down a bit. And I got a visual—if I see it, I’ll know it.”

“Well then, let’s go,” Rone said. “We can take a shuttle down to the nearest HKR and start looking right away.”

“You go get the shuttle ready, honey.” Kate spoke to her husband but she was looking at Thrace. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Rone gave her an unreadable look but then nodded briefly and left the antechamber.

Thrace frowned. “I’d better go too. I’m sure my mate—”

“Trin,” Kate said. “Trin is waiting for you and she doesn’t even know the difficult choice you’re trying to make.”

“What?” Thrace growled, frowning. “Just how far inside my head did you get?”

“Farther than I do with a lot of people.” Kate sounded interested. “Not sure why that is. I just wanted to tell you—what you want to do is the right thing. I know it’s tough but you’ll be glad you did it.”

“I know it’s the right thing.” Thrace was, in an odd way, relieved to be talking to someone about what had been weighing on his mind. “I made up my mind to do it long ago. It’s my mate, Trin—I’m afraid she’ll object.”

“She may at first.” Kate nodded thoughtfully. “But you need to persist. You want to protect her and the Knowing tells me she’s going to need that protection in the very near future.”

“Thank you.” Thrace nodded. “Hearing that…brings me peace. I didn’t know if I should bring it up to her or not.”

“Do it.” Kate nodded decisively. “You’ll be glad you did. Okay, well…” She clapped her hands together. “Rone and I have a girl to go find.”

“Did you know about him when you first met him?” Thrace asked, unable to help his curiosity. “About his beast, I mean?” It was an intrusive question but since she seemed to know his private business, he had no qualms about questioning hers.

Kate looked thoughtful.

“I knew he was dangerous—the most dangerous man I’d ever met. But I just couldn’t keep away—isn’t that funny?”

“The Goddess works in strange ways sometimes,” Thrace murmured, thinking of his own situation with Trin. “Very strange.”

“That’s certainly true.” She smiled and nodded at him. “Well, thanks for your help. And good luck with your other issue.”

“Thank you.” He nodded back. “I’ll take your advice to heart.”

“You do that.” And with a final bob of her curly head, she was gone.

Chapter Eight

“Where are you taking me? What are you going to do with me? Please let me go!”

“I am not going to hurt you—I swear it by the Goddess,” Tragar assured her but his promises seemed to fall on deaf ears. Her eyes were wide and golden again, not surprising since any stress was likely to bring her Kit’tara to the surface.

Tragar frowned. It might not be surprising but it wasn’t good, either. He had no idea how long it had been since her Tenrah or Shift had started. He’d been watching her from afar for over a solar week but he’d never seen her eyes change color or smelled that hot scent on her before today. Still, she might have been hiding it, trying to suppress it. For all he knew, she could move from the first stage or Kalor to the second stage, Scintil at any moment. And the more upset and agitated she got, the faster her Shift would progress. Seven Hells, he’d heard of some Khalla that went through all four stages—from Kalor to Scintil to Vlammen to Hel—all in a single day. And if that happened…

If that happens she’ll die.

The thought worried him so much it was hard to concentrate on the controls of his shuttle. He hit the light refracting tech and punched up the thrusters, getting them into the air so swiftly it pulled a gasp from her lips.

“Oh my God—where are we going?”

“I told you,” Tragar said patiently. “Back to my ship first. Then eventually to Rageron.”

“But you can’t just take me away from my home! I mean, I’ve never even been to Europe—hell, I’ve never even been to Canada—and now you’re taking me away from my whole entire planet? You can’t do that!” She watched with wide eyes as the Earth retreated below them.

“I can and I must. Both to protect you from the forces outside that threaten you…as well as the ones within.” He turned to her, letting the autopilot guide the small shuttle through the atmospheric layers. “How long have you been feeling it?”

“What?” She shook her head. “What are you—”

“Don’t play games,” Tragar growled. “I see your eyes.”

“My…” She put a hand to her cheek as if she could feel the color change. “Is…are they doing it again?”

He nodded shortly. “How long have you been having the waves of heat—those that betoken Kalor, the first stage of Tenrah? Tell me how long you’ve been feeling them and be accurate—your life may depend on it.”

“I…I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Ten days? Two weeks…maybe more? They came on so gradually. I thought—I hoped—I was imagining them.”

“What about dreams?” Tragar demanded. “Any prophetic dreams lately?”

“Prophetic dreams?” She shivered. “No, nothing like that. Just nightmares.”

“They can take the form of nightmares sometimes,” Tragar said grimly. “They often do.”

“I…” She shook her head. “I don’t want to think about that. How do you know all these things have been happening to me anyway? The dreams, the heat waves…the way my eyes keep going all weird?”

“I was taught to recognize the signs of a Khalla as part of my malehood ceremony,” Tragar said, throwing a glance at her. “Not that I thought I would ever see one—your kind are extremely rare.”

“Okay, look—what was your name again? Tigger? Taber?” She turned to face him, dragging her gaze from the retreating Earth.

“Tragar,” he supplied. “Rivin Tragar.”

“Right. So, Tragar, what even is a Khalla?” “You keep saying it and throwing around all these weird, foreign Kindred words I don’t understand. What is it you think I am? Tell me now so we can clear this up and you can take me home before we get out past Pluto or something.”

Tragar frowned.

“A Khalla is a female Beast Kindred, of course. A very special kind of female.”

“But I thought your people didn’t have females—isn’t that why you instituted the draft where all eligible Earth girls have to register and might get called to the Mother Ship?”

“The Kindred do have females, they are just extremely rare. But even the other branches of Kindred produce more females than we Beast Kindred do.”

“So Rageron is a whole planet populated only by males?” She shook her head. “How is that possible? How do you not just die out?”

Tragar gave a soft growl of frustration.

“No, the whole planet is not populated only by males. We do have females—those from the native people of Rageron whom the Kindred interbred with. But such a mating almost always produces a male child. For a male Beast Kindred to mate with a female and produce a female Kindred child—that is rare. Even more rare is when that female turns out to be a Khalla—only a few are born in every generation.”

“And how are Khalla different from regular females?” Emily asked. “I mean, how can you tell when a girl’s going to turn out to be one?”

“They look different from the rest of our people—before they go through their Tenrah, anyway.” He nodded at her.

“Okay, and after they go through it?”

“They are special—some are imbued with powers or gifts that can only come from the Goddess. In fact, the Khalla are believed by many to be a physical manifestation of the Goddess—her way of walking among us for a time.”

“Okay, nobody ever accused me of being a goddess before.” She shook her head. “So you only have two or three of these special Khalla born every generation on your planet which is light years away from mine and somehow you think I’m one of them? That doesn’t make any sense.”

He shrugged. “To me either but there it is.”

“Do you think that’s why I was…was targeted? Why that Dark Kindred guy wanted me dead?” She shook her head. “God, I don’t even know any Dark Kindred. I mean, other than that horrible time when they were attacking the Earth…but that’s over now. We’re at peace.”

“I do not know why he wanted you dead but he was very definite about it,” Tragar said grimly. “Whether it has to do with you being Khalla or not is anyone’s guess.”

“But if he sent those dog things after me—those sniffers—is he going to send more?”

“It’s a possibility,” Tragar admitted. “But I don’t want you to worry about it.” He looked at her intently. “As long as you are with me, you’re safe, Emily. What we need to worry about now is your Shift. The Tenrah of a Khalla is a very dangerous and difficult time.”

“You act so sure that I’m one of these people. These Khalla.” She still sounded skeptical.

“I know you are—your scent is unmistakable.”

“How can it be if you’ve never seen or, uh, smelled a Khalla before?” she demanded.

Tragar took a deep breath though he knew it probably wasn’t advisable. Her scent was like a drug—a warm, feminine musk that spoke of heat and need. It drew him despite his iron will and the vow he had taken when he entered the Verrak never to seek female companionship again. Clearly the little female was unaware of it herself—she was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“I know because I’m male. I cannot mistake the scent of a female in heat,” he said at last.

“In…in heat?” She looked at him uncertainly, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “You’re saying I’m—”

“That is what the Tenrah is—the passage into sexual maturity for a female of my kind.”

“See, that’s just ridiculous,” she scoffed, sounding relieved. “I mean, I’ve been, uh, sexually mature since I was twelve and started my period.” Her cheeks got pink. “Not that I want to discuss things like that with a complete stranger but if that’s what it takes to convince you—”

“First blood does not mean a Khalla is ready to breed,” he interrupted.

“But I’m thirty-one!” she protested. “I mean, the idea that I’m only just now ready to…to…” Her cheeks got positively red. “It’s just ridiculous.”

“Thirty-one cycles is not old for a female of my kind but it would betoken a late Tenrah.” Tragar frowned. “Something must have caused your natural Shift to come later.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Some traumatic incident—some mental or emotional anguish?”

She bit her lip and looked away. Tragar cursed himself for a fool. He knew what that blond male had done to her. Gods, why hadn’t she allowed him to punish him properly earlier? He’d had to content himself with breaking every bone in the male’s dominant hand to keep him from touching a female against her will again, but it wasn’t nearly enough to pay for the pain he saw flickering in Emily’s eyes.

“Forgive me,” he said roughly. “I should not have—”

“Never mind,” she interrupted quickly. “The point is, you’re saying you can tell I’m a Khalla by the way I smell. Well…” she lifted her forearm, brought it to her nose and sniffed deeply. “I don’t think I smell any different.” She looked at him defiantly. “Not a bit.”

“That is not where your mating scent comes from,” Tragar growled softly, allowing his gaze to drift to the V between her thighs.

“Oh!” Hastily she crossed her legs. “But I—”

“Even if you discount your scent, the signs of a Khalla entering Tenrah are there.” He gave her a long, steady look. “Your eyes…the waves of heat…the dreams…your Kit’tara coming forward.”

“You said that before too—what is a kit…kit…?”

“Kit’tara. It is the Khalla’s hidden or second self. It is the female you will become when your Tenrah is completed.”

“What?” He seemed to have struck a nerve because she sat up straight and looked suddenly much more anxious. “You’re kidding, right? You’re saying that the other is going to take over completely? That she wins?”

“Well, essentially—”

“No!” She banged her small fist on the console, causing the ship to swerve alarmingly. “No, she doesn’t get to win—she doesn’t get to take over! I won’t let her—I’m Emily—I’m me—not some alien, feral wolf girl with golden eyes and a taste for blood!”

Tragar finished leveling out the shuttle and started at her, amazed.

“Your Kit’tara is part of you, Emily—not some enemy trying to take over.”

“That’s exactly what she is—the enemy!” She looked at him, wild eyed with worry. “Tell me how to get rid of her—tell me how to stop this if you know so much!”

“I don’t know about stopping it but you might want to avoid getting upset,” he said, frowning. “Extreme stress brings the Kit’tara forward and speeds up the stages of Tenrah.”

“Great.” She sank back into her seat with a groan and put a hand over her eyes. “There are stages now?”

“Four stages to be exact.” Tragar threw a glance at her. “I am hoping very much that you are still in the first stage—Kalor.”

“And if I’m not?” She looked at him. “How would I even know?”

“You’d be able to tell.” He frowned. “Are your breasts swollen and tender?”

“What?” She crossed her arms over her chest protectively. “My breasts are…are just fine. What are you talking about?”

“Just trying to answer your question.” And his own question as well. Clearly she was able to touch her breasts with ease and there was no pain on her face as she hugged herself tightly. Also, he had seen no tell-tale stains across the front of her chest. Obviously she was not moving from Kalor to Scintil just yet. Thank the Goddess for small favors.

“So if I’m still in kajor—”

“Kalor,” he corrected, setting a flight path through the blackness of space towards his ship which was in deep orbit around the Earth.

“Okay, so Kalor. How do I get out of it? How do I stop it?” Emily demanded.

“Again, I do not believe there is any stopping it. But it is said that Kalor can be held off for a time. There are…ways.”

“What ways?” Emily demanded but Tragar only shook his head. The methods he had been taught were theory only—nothing he had ever expected to actually have to practice. And even if he was called upon to implement them, he didn’t know if he could. It was not for such as him to treat a Khalla in those ways—not unless it was a dire emergency.

* * * * *

“Tell me how to stop it, please!” Emily begged again but the big Kindred remained obstinately silent. He piloted the small car which had somehow become a spacecraft and looked straight ahead, staring at the complicated array of instruments in front of him.

Emily sighed in frustration and crossed her arms over her chest. Was it possible—could she really be this Khalla thing he was talking about? And if so, was that the reason someone wanted to kill her?

Even a month ago the idea would have been preposterous. But a month ago she hadn’t known she was adopted. And the heat waves, the dreams, the flashes of the other in the mirror had been far back in her past—easy to forget, easy to sweep under the rug along with the memory of what Grayson had done to her. Now they weren’t so easy to deny.

But that wasn’t the first thing the big Kindred—Tragar, he said his name was Tragar—had noted when he said she was a female of his kind. He said I smell! Emily thought indignantly. Which was clearly ridiculous—she took a shower every morning and a bubble bath every night before bed to relax. She was a very clean person.

She shifted away from him and ducked her head a little, pretending to stare out the window at the velvety blackness of space. Earth was no more than a large blue marble in the sky now—a frightening prospect if she let herself think about it. Emily didn’t let herself. Instead she ducked her head further and inhaled surreptitiously, trying to see if she could smell what he was talking about.

A scent did come to her nose but it clearly wasn’t hers. Warm and enticing, it smelled like leather and spice and coffee and smoke. Not cigarette smoke, though—it was the scent of a campfire at night out under the clear, icy sky when the stars look as bright as stolen diamonds.

It was a dark, dangerous scent—more of a warning than an invitation and yet it drew her. Drew her deeply to its source.

A male, whispered the voice of the other, just as it had so many years ago. A male—we need a male.

Yes. Emily turned to the big Kindred, feeling the heated waves wash over her, the liquid warmth between her thighs. Her eyes were burning and her nipples were suddenly tight with desire.

“Tragar?” she murmured.

“Yes?” He spared her a quick glance and then his eyes widened. “Khalla, your eyes—remember I told you to stay calm.”

“I’m calm.” Emily leaned towards him and inhaled deeply, pulling in breaths of his dark, dangerous scent. “You asked me if I had any dreams,” she murmured, looking up at him. “Well, I think I had a dream about you. I’m only remembering it just now but I think I saw you in the mirror—long black hair…golden eyes.”

“You cannot have dreamed of me,” he protested, frowning. “That would mean—” he stopped abruptly.

“It would mean what?” Emily leaned closer to him, deliberately invading his space. She never would have done such a thing normally but the other was coming forward, urging her, riding her, filling her with lust and every breath of his warm, masculine scent only fed the fire burning inside her.

Her proximity seemed to disturb him for he turned his gaze back to the viewscreen at the front of the shuttle and stared fixedly ahead at the sleek silver spaceship they were fast approaching.

“Never mind. It means nothing.”

“Seems to mean something.” She slid one hand up his thigh, clad in tight black leather trousers, and felt his muscles go rock hard under her touch. Somewhere inside herself, Emily wondered where she had gotten the nerve to do such a thing—it wasn’t like her at all to come on to a complete stranger like this. But somehow the impulse was too strong to deny. She slid her hand higher, enjoying the feel of his big, muscular body.

“Don’t,” he growled, taking her hand and putting it firmly back in her own lap. “You must not. Your scent makes being in close proximity difficult enough as it is.”

“You smell pretty good yourself,” Emily purred, leaning close to him again and taking a deep breath. “Damn good.”

He gave a sort of frustrated growl and she saw a muscle in the side of his jaw clench as though he was holding himself back.

“You must stop. This kind of…of stress will cause you to move from Kalor to Scintil. It is dangerous…wrong.”

“What’s so wrong about it?” They were docking with the big silver ship now but she barely noticed the vibration as metal kissed metal. The other was in full control of her now, just as she had been that fateful night in the bar with Grayson. It was urging her onward, telling her she wanted this…needed this…

“We’ve arrived.” The big Kindred sounded immensely relieved as he got up quickly and walked to the back of the shuttle. An airlock was already irising open to show the clean, metal and glass utilitarian interior of his ship.

Emily rose and followed him, her fingers itching to touch his broad back and shoulders, not to mention the tight, muscular ass she saw working beneath his leather flight trousers.

“The air inside the shuttle is close and not very well filtered,” he said, stepping up to get from the shuttle to the ship. He turned and offered a hand to Emily. “You should feel better here—there is much more efficient filtration so scents are not so…strong. So distracting.”

“Mm-hmm.” Her palm tingled again as they touched and she felt the waves of heat intensifying as his big hand engulfed hers. He pulled her up and into the ship but somehow the momentum carried her forward and she wound up in his arms which was exactly where the other wanted them to be.

Emily stood on tiptoes to wind her fingers through his long black hair. She could feel his hard chest pressed against her breasts and further down, something else that was long and hard and hot was branding her thigh. Hmm, so she wasn’t the only one feeling this.

“Stop!” The Kindred’s low growl carried a depth of warning Emily knew she shouldn’t ignore. But the other didn’t give a damn about that—she wanted the huge, hard male in front of them. Wanted the dark stranger who would have scared Emily to death if she hadn’t had the other inside her, urging her on. “Stop,” he growled again, more urgently.

“Don’t want to stop.” Emily reached even higher, dragging his head down, her fingers tangled in his hair which smelled like leather and smoke and warm, aroused male. She pressed her mouth to his and felt a low growl vibrate through him as she licked delicately along the seam of his sensual lips.

Somewhere deep inside the real Emily was screaming that this was wrong—was begging to know what was going on, what she was doing for heaven’s sake. But the touch of his big body and the taste of his lips—salt and wild, dark spice—were like a drug that drove the other higher, made her want more and even more…

And for a moment it seemed he would give her more. Taking her in his arms, he pulled her close, molding her to him and deepening the kiss, opening his lips and sucking her tongue into his mouth, tasting her with abandon.

Emily felt herself melting against him. Right…oh God, this felt so right. It was like water in the desert—like food to a starving man. Like the answer she’d been seeking to a question she hadn’t even known she was asking all her life.

Then, suddenly, he pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“Please,” Emily whispered, standing on tiptoes, trying to get to him again. She had to have more…more. The other demanded it.

“No.” He cupped her face in his big hands and pulled away, studying her closely. “Your eyes are pure gold. Your Kit’tara is close.”

“Don’t want to talk about that. I just want more.” Emily pressed close to him but he held her at a distance.

“Khalla, this is dangerous,” he rumbled, eyeing her earnestly. “You must not allow yourself to be overcome or the Tenrah will be greatly accelerated and that must not happen—not now.”

“It doesn’t feel dangerous—feels wonderful.” Emily rubbed against him like a cat, shamelessly begging for what she needed—for what the other told her they had to have.

“It…feels good to me too. But we must not give in to temptation. I am Verrak—fallen from the ways of our people. I do not deserve to service a Khalla and besides to service you now would be dangerous. We must get you to Rageron where you can have your pick of suitable males.”

“I pick you,” Emily purred, pressing closer. Reaching between them, she cupped the long, hard ridge of flesh between his legs. “Please, Tragar, take me. Fuck me.”

He drew in a deep breath, as though trying to regain control, and pulled her hand away.

“No! You must not speak so—you must not act so.” He shook his head. “This isn’t right or safe.”

“Why should I care about right or safe?” Emily rubbed against him again. God, she was acting so shameless. Somewhere buried deep inside the real Emily was mortified at the way she was behaving. Yet, with the other riding her, she seemed helpless to stop.

“Very well. You leave me no choice.”

Tragar took her by the hand and turned, leading her down a long metal corridor.

Emily followed without complaint. All she could think of was his mouth on hers and the exotic dark-spice taste of his lips. All she could do was what the other demanded and give herself completely.

It didn’t occur to her that this idea would have been repugnant to her just a few minutes before. She’d had no sexual encounters at all after what Grayson had done to her and hadn’t wanted any either. But for some reason, she was willing and eager to do anything and everything with the big Kindred. She was ready to throw away any caution she might have felt if only he would promise to take her to his bed and make her his—completely his. Her entire body ached for him—longed to be filled with the thick, throbbing shaft she’d touched so briefly earlier.

It was as though he’d read her mind. When they got to the end of the corridor, he pressed a button on the wall and a door slid open to reveal what was clearly a bedroom.

Emily had a blurred impression of a warm red carpet and a red and gold bedspread that matched on the large, broad bed which dominated one end of the room. There was a small fireplace with a fire blazing at the other end, with some kind of couch in front of it, but she had eyes only for the bed.

Yes, whispered the other in her head. Yes, finally we’ll get what we need from a male who can give it to us. A male who is right. Who knows what we need and can fulfill our every desire. Finally!

Tragar went to sit on the end of the bed and Emily followed him eagerly, coming to stand between his knees. Though he was sitting and she was standing their height difference meant she was still looking him in the eyes.

“Khalla,” he said softly. “Emily, you are driving yourself into a very dangerous situation. I can give you one more chance to calm down. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to do as my training dictates.”

“Ooo.” Emily smiled and ran one finger teasingly over his high cheekbone. “And what exactly does it dictate you should do to me?”

“You won’t like it,” he said shortly, capturing her hand and putting it firmly back by her side. “Will you try to calm down and stop this or not?”

Emily felt naughty laughter bubble up in her throat—the other was amused by this turn of events.

“I choose…not,” she said, reaching for him again. “I think I want to keep being bad. It’s fun.”

“You might think differently after this.”

Quick as lightning, the big Kindred grabbed her by the wrist and twisted her around. Then he bent her over one leather-clad knee and before Emily knew it she was face down with her bottom high in the air.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Some of the naughty pleasure seemed to leave her and she looked around, trying to catch his golden eyes and find out what he was planning. “What are you—”

“I am doing the only thing I can do.” To her shock and dismay, he was pulling up the pale blue lace nighty.

“Hey!” Emily protested as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her matching pale blue panties and tugged them down, baring her ass. “Hey!” She struggled against him and part of her knew this would have been terrifying if not for the presence of the other. After what Grayson had done to her, a strange man pushing up her night dress and pulling down her panties ought to send her into a full blown panic attack. But somehow instead she was still hot—still deep in need and longing for what the other insisted they needed—a male—the right kind of male—this male. “Please!” she begged, struggling against him.

The big Kindred held her down effortlessly with one hand and when Emily caught a glimpse of his face, she saw a stoic kind of shame stamped on his strong features. It was as though he was preparing to do a task he knew was wrong but necessary.

“Forgive me, Khalla,” he growled. “But this is the only way.”

And then he began to spank her.

* * * * *

The little female wiggled and squirmed in his lap, crying and begging as blow after blow fell on her soft, rounded buttocks. Tragar steeled himself against her cries and tried not to notice how good her lush body felt when she struggled against him.

Truthfully this wasn’t at all what he wanted to do to her. What he wanted to do was take her up on her invitation and make love to her. To roll that sweet, curvy body under his and press deep between her thighs to fill her with his shaft. The delicious, heady scent of her heat, the aroma of desire rising from between her full thighs, was like a drug—maddening…intoxicating. Only knowing how dangerous their situation was enabled him to keep from taking her.

Instead, he concentrated on trying to drive back the Kalor, to keep her from slipping into the second stage or Scintil as her Kit’tara emerged. His hand rose and fell as he held her down, turning her pale, innocent buttocks a rosy red. He didn’t know if what he was doing would help or not but he had to try it—it was either this or give in to the lust and the breeding madness which could kill her if it came on too soon.

“The Tenrah is a difficult and dangerous time for the Khalla when it comes upon her,” Tragar remembered his old instructor, Xen’dex lecturing. “The emergence and coming forward of the Kit’tara brings with it uncontrollable lust and desires so strong they are impossible for the Khalla to fight. And yet…” He had raised a finger, addressing all the young males eagerly hanging on his words. “And yet it is not always advisable to allow a Khalla to give in to these lusts to breed and bond with a male.”

“Why not, Master?” one of the young males had asked respectfully. “Isn’t that the desired achievement of the Tenrah, for the female’s true self to take form and a bond to be formed to the male of her choice?”

“It is indeed.” Xen’dex had nodded his grizzled head. “But it must be done properly or death, not bonding will be the result. To begin with there are four stages of Tenrah—Kalor, Scintil, Vlammen, and Hel. Some stages may be delayed but none must be skipped entirely. A Khalla may die if she breeds before going through the stages in the proper order. At the very least her Tenrah will be delayed—sometimes for years—and she will have intolerable pain, especially if she is bred by a wrong or incompatible male.”

“But I thought you said the Kit’tara coming forward causes uncontrollable lust,” one of the other males protested. “What can you do if that starts happening? How can you keep it from overtaking her?”

“There are ways—some stages are easier to control than others. With Kalor, the simplest way is pain.”

“Hurt her?” There had been a horrified murmur from the assembled males. Kindred held females in the highest regard and would rather die than raise a hand against them. And a Khalla was the rarest and most esteemed female of all—some said each was, in a way, the Goddess taking corporeal form to come among them. To hurt or wound such a female was not just wrong—it was blasphemy.

“This is the only time—the only time—when such an action is acceptable,” Xen’dex had said, raising his voice to be heard above the angry protests. “And it must be done properly with love and respect. You must punish her—treat her as a youngling who has disobeyed. Take her over your knee and apply only such force as is necessary to drive the Kit’tara back.”

“You mean…spank her?” Tragar had asked incredulously.

Xen’dex had nodded.

“Indeed. Before the two parts of the Khalla merge, the Kit’tara is a reckless force—all appetite and no caution. She is like a defiant child, intent on getting what she wants. And like a defiant child, she does not enjoy punishment. So you must use whatever means necessary to drive her back. If not, the Kit’tara may force the Khalla to go through the stages of Tenrah too quickly and cause madness or death as it emerges.”

It was only this old memory that Tragar had to go on—only the hope that he could keep Emily safe from herself and from the new hungers and desires being born inside her that led him to do as he did now. He would never have raised a hand to a female otherwise—especially not a Khalla. He gave her another hard, measured slap to her bare buttocks and noticed that she had suddenly gone limp in his lap.

“Khalla?” he muttered uncertainly. “Emily?”

Then he heard the soft sound of her sobbing and his heart clenched in his chest.

Gods, what had he done?

Chapter Nine

Emily finally stopped struggling and lay limp across the big Kindred’s knee, the tears rolling down her cheeks. The other had at last receded and with her she had taken the shameless lust and reckless desire Emily had been feeling ever since she took the first, deep breath of his scent and lost herself in need. She was left with only a sense of shame so deep it seared her to the bone.

Oh God, the way I acted…the way I came on to him…I practically begged for it! It was the same way she had acted with Grayson all those years ago back in college. The same behavior which had gotten her into the worst situation of her life. But do I learn from my past mistakes? Do I? Oh, no—I have to go and repeat them! Repeat them and make a fool of myself. God, what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I control myself?

She had no answers for the questions. It was tempting to blame the other and say it was all her fault but though Emily tried, she knew deep down it wasn’t a valid excuse. “Your Kit’tara is part of you,” Tragar had told her and she knew it was true though she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She wouldn’t have acted that way if somewhere, down inside, she didn’t want to.

“Khalla? Emily?” The spanking stopped abruptly which was a relief—that big hand of his really hurt when it connected. But even when the pain stopped, she couldn’t stop the tears. “Emily?” he asked again and raised her gently to look her in the face.

“Don’t.” Emily pulled away from him and tried to sit on the side of the bed but her bottom was much too sore. “Ouch!” She jumped and turned on her side, rolling away from him.

He got up without a word and left her there. Emily didn’t blame him. After the way she’d thrown herself at him, of course he wanted to get away. That thought didn’t help the pain and shame she felt, however. Rolling onto her stomach in the middle of the vast bed, she buried her face in the gold and red coverlet and let the sobs take her.

Why am I like this? What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I fight the urges—fight the other when she comes forward?

Maybe because you don’t want to fight her, whispered a snarky little voice in her brain. Maybe because you’re bad and you want bad things…wrong things…maybe you deserve everything that’s ever happened to you…

The flow of self recrimination was cut off abruptly when something damp and soothing was applied to her stinging bottom.

“Oh!” Emily jumped and looked around to see Tragar sitting beside her. He had a bowl filled with liquid in one hand and with the other, he was pressing what felt like some kind of cool compress to her wounded behind. “What…” Emily cleared her throat and tried again. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to make amends.” His rumbling voice sounded deeply remorseful. “Will you allow it?”

“I…um…” Emily suddenly became aware that her nighty was still rucked up and her panties were down around her knees. She felt almost unbearably exposed but her ass really did hurt and the cool cloth was as soft as silk to her stinging flesh. Tragar was watching her patiently, waiting to hear her answer. Finally, she nodded and buried her face in her arms. “All right,” she whispered.

“Forgive me.” His deep voice was surprisingly filled with pain. “I told you there are ways to hold the Kalor back but I didn’t want to use them on you. I…I felt I had no choice.”

Emily felt a jagged little laugh escape her. “Of course not. “I gave you ample reason to do what you did.”

“It was the only way to drive your Kit’tara back,” he murmured, dipping the cloth in the bowl again and pressing it gently to her sore bottom. “You were becoming most…insistent.”

“Insistent about throwing myself at you. And asking you to…to… Oh God…” Emily muffled a fresh sob against her arm. “God, I’m so sorry…”

“No.” Suddenly she was being lifted from the bed until she came face to face with him. The big Kindred held her gently but firmly by the arms and looked into her eyes. “No,” he said again, frowning. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Yes I do after the way I acted—the way I let her make me act,” Emily flared at him.

“The Kit’tara is a force to be reckoned with,” he said gruffly. “When it emerges, it brings uncontrollable desires…unquenchable lusts. You are not to blame for any of that.”

“Yes, I am,” Emily said stubbornly. “I should have controlled it—should have found a way to shut it down somehow.”

He frowned.

“There was no way for you to—”

“You don’t understand,” Emily interrupted. “That—what I was doing? The way I was acting? That was exactly how I was acting the night Grayson and I…the night he…that night.”

Emily didn’t know why she was telling him this—admitting things she hadn’t even told her older sister, who was the only one she’d confided to about what had happened. But somehow once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop.

“I…I was all over him,” she whispered brokenly. “Right out in the bar in the open—everyone saw it. I was shameless—exactly the way I was with you just now. Only Grayson didn’t try to stop me—or himself.”

“Of course not. He is a male without honor.” He sounded angry now but Emily could tell it wasn’t at her—he was still enraged at Grayson. It made her feel better to hear the anger in his voice and know it was directed at her attacker but she still wasn’t sure she deserved his absolution.

“I didn’t want him to stop,” she said in a low voice. “Not at first. Not until he started to…to put…to put himself inside of me.” God, she could barely get the words out but somehow they had to come. This was like a wound that had been festering much too long—the poison had to come out. The big Kindred seemed to understand.

“Go on,” he murmured though there was a pained expression on his face. “Say what you need to say.”

“He…it…” Emily shook her head, trying to put what had happened into words. “I wanted it so much—felt like I’d die if I didn’t have it. If I didn’t get…”

“Get bred,” he finished for her.

Emily looked down at her hands. “I was going to say if I didn’t get fucked.”

“Breeding is the culmination of Tenrah,” he told her. “But it must not happen until the Khalla has passed through all four stages. An early breeding often means death.”

“I wanted to die,” Emily whispered, looking up at him. “It…it hurt so much. But it wasn’t just the pain. It was the…the wrongness.” She shook her head. “I can’t explain it any better than that. It just felt so awful… like I was doing something unnatural and sick. Something perverted…”

“He wasn’t your species,” Tragar rumbled. “Your body knew that. A male Kindred can mate with almost any receptive female, no matter the species. But a Khalla can only be bred by one of her own kind.”

“So that’s why it hurt so much? Why it felt so wrong?” Emily shivered. “I mean aside from the fact that he was…doing what he was doing after I begged him not to.”

“Your body rejected him. Or tried to anyway.”

“I did try,” Emily said fiercely. “I fought and kicked and bit and shouted for him to stop.” She looked away. “He wouldn’t.”

“As I said, a male without honor.” His deep voice was little more than a growl and she could see that his large hands had bunched into fists, as though he was longing to hurt Grayson—to make him pay for his brutality all those years ago. His anger on her behalf gave her the courage to go on—to finish what she needed to say.

“Afterwards he…” She swallowed and her throat clicked dryly. “Afterwards he said no one would believe me and I knew he was right. So many people had seen me coming on to him…so many people saw us leave together—saw me practically dragging him out of there. Grayson said he only…only gave me what I asked for. And…and I did ask for it. Right up until he started doing it I wanted it—needed it. And then it all changed. The other deserted me—she got me into that mess and then she left and I was stuck and I couldn’t get away…”

“It wasn’t your fault or the fault of your Kit’tara either.”

“Yeah, right.” She looked away.

“Look at me.” He lifted her chin. “It wasn’t your fault, Emily,” he repeated firmly. “You were in Tenrah—in heat on a planet that knows nothing of such things. But even if you hadn’t been—even if you had been the Earth female you believed yourself to be—he should have stopped when you asked him to.”

“He said he couldn’t. He said once you push a man too far—”

“That’s lisht,” he said harshly. “In your language, ‘bullshit.’ A male can always stop—a male with honor will always stop when a female asks him to.”

Emily wanted to believe him—wanted to let the load of guilt she’d been carrying for years drop away but it was hard…so hard to let go of a burden that had almost become part of her.

“But the way I was coming on to him…”

“Was it the way you were acting towards me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Emily nodded and hung her head.

“Yes, like I said. Exactly.”

“Look at me, Emily.” He lifted her chin again. “The way you touched me…the feel of you in my arms…and most of all your scent…” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Gods,” he nearly groaned, looking at her again. “All these things are incredibly arousing—you are incredibly arousing.”

“I…I am?” She couldn’t help feeling surprised. For so long she’d thought of herself as just a mousy little kindergarten teacher—a plus sized girl with a slightly pretty face and nothing much else to recommend her. Yet here was this huge Kindred warrior saying he found her “arousing.” How could it be?

“You are,” he murmured. “Yet I didn’t take what you offered because I knew it was wrong—knew that I was wrong for you.” He frowned. “That bastard who hurt you should have done the same—could have done the same. He should have stopped.”

“I…he…”

“Listen…” He looked at her intently. “You had the right to change your mind. You had the right to say no—no matter what you felt or wanted before. When your feelings changed it was your prerogative to end the encounter. He should have accorded you that right and respected your choice.”

“Thank you.” She couldn’t bear the intensity in his golden eyes and had to look down at her hands. “Thank you, I…I’ve never been able to tell anyone all of it before—not even my sister. I…I don’t feel quite so ashamed anymore.”

“We have all done things we feel shame for,” he said briefly.

“What are you ashamed of?” she asked curiously. “I mean, you said you’re an assassin—are you sorry for the people you’ve killed?” Then she bit her lip. Oh God, had she really just asked him that? What had possessed her?

“That is not the shame I speak of.” His voice was low, almost too low to hear.

Emily could hear the warning bells going off in her brain but somehow she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“What is it then?

For a moment, she almost thought he might answer. Then his face darkened and he rose abruptly.

“It was nothing. Nothing that concerns you.”

Silhouetted in the fire light, he looked absolutely huge—a black shadow with golden flames for eyes.

“Wait, please…” Emily held out a hand to him but he stepped away from her.

“It’s true—I have killed again and again,” he said in a low growl and when he looked up at her, his eyes had gone from gold to crimson red. “I have renounced the Goddess and stained my soul black with sin.”

“You…you have?” Emily heard the squeak in her voice but couldn’t stop it.

Slowly, he nodded.

“I have abandoned training, faith, and morality to get where I am and I have never failed to kill my target…until now.”

“You haven’t?” Another frightened squeak she seemed unable to control. Say what you wanted about the other, but when she was around, Emily certainly felt braver. Just now she felt terribly alone in her own skin. As well as extremely small and vulnerable.

The huge Kindred nodded again.

“And do you know why I cannot kill you?”

“Um…” There didn’t seem to be any reason at all. “I…I…”

“Because though I have abandoned every other aspect of my former life, I cannot abandon biology. Your scent forbids me to spill your blood. It awakes protective instincts in me that insist you must be shielded at all costs. At all costs.” He emphasized that as if it was very important.

“So if I smelled different you’d just…just pull the trigger?”

“Without hesitation.” He was glowering at her now, as if she could help the way she smelled to him. “I am a member of the Verrak. We kill without pity or remorse. Look at me, Emily.” His eyes blazed even brighter. “I…am…Death. And I have never stayed my hand until now.”

Something flared in her—maybe the other or just her own natural defiance—she didn’t like feeling backed into a corner.

“Well I’m sorry you can’t bring yourself to kill me,” she snapped.

“Don’t be.” He looked away, staring into the fire. “I may have ample cause to regret it but you will not. I will protect you though it costs my life to do so.” Abruptly he seemed a little less scary—almost sad, Emily thought.

“Tragar—”

“I must go,” he said abruptly. “This will be your room. Make yourself comfortable for the duration of the trip.”

“But…but how long will that be?”

But he had already turned and left her sitting on the bed. Emily watched him go, having no idea what she should do or what might happen to her next.

* * * * *

Tragar paced outside the room, up and down the metal corridor that led from the living areas of his ship to the bridge. Gods, what was wrong with him? Was he allowing himself to go soft?

He’d promised himself he would keep her safe and protect her from any harm or other would-be assassins—what he hadn’t promised was to have to reassure her, or to ease her pain, both physically and emotionally.

But after the spanking, he’d felt obligated to try and allay the discomfort he’d caused by bathing her softly rounded bottom with a cloth soaked in cooling elixir. And then, when she’d told the details of the human male’s attack on her, he hadn’t been able to help himself from trying to ease that pain either. The hurt in her eyes was too much to bear—too much for him to remain silent. He’d wanted to let her know the assault wasn’t her fault. That the guilt didn’t lie with her but with her attacker.

And then you almost answered her question about your past—about your secret shame. Tragar shook his head at his own foolishness. How often had he pushed that old hurt out of his head? How often had he refused to confront it? And yet the moment she asked him, he was ready to spill his dark past into her lap like so much bilge water. What in the Seven Hells was wrong with him?

It’s her scent, he told himself uneasily. It has to be her scent. It’s working on me—making me want to admit things…tell things I’ve never told anyone. I must stand firm—I must be strong enough to keep myself apart…and to keep my hands off her lush body.

That wouldn’t be easy though. He could still vividly remember the feel of her in his arms—the brief taste he’d had of her lips. Gods, she had no idea how lovely she was—how absolutely irresistible. Still, he had to resist somehow. If he meant to keep her safe he would have to guard her from both the outside forces trying to kill her, and a too-rapid acceleration of her Shift.

To the list of possible threats, Tragar now added himself. If he couldn’t resist her sweet scent—the scent of a Khalla in heat and needing to be bred—he might as well just fulfill his contract and kill her now. A shot with a sonic rifle would be less painful than a wrong and premature breeding. Especially since she’d already been through it once and the trauma was still lingering with her.

He shook his head grimly. It was a wonder the rape she had endured hadn’t killed her. But it had delayed her Tenrah considerably. He was certain, however, that she would not be spared again. If he couldn’t control himself, if he took her the way ever fiber of his being urged him to, she would not survive a second premature breeding. Emily must be allowed to go through all four stages of her Shift and then be paired with a proper chosen mate. It was the only way she could be safe.

I will be strong, Tragar promised himself sternly. I will protect her from everyone…including myself.

Chapter Ten

“What am I going to do now?” Emily paced up and down the small but comfortable room the big Kindred had left her in. She wanted to leave it and explore the rest of the ship but she was afraid he might not like that. Was she a prisoner here? She wouldn’t have thought so before. He’d seemed so kind…so understanding there for a while. The way he’d talked to her about what Grayson had done had made her feel better about herself than she’d felt in ages. And then…

Then I was stupid enough to ask him a personal question and set him off. God, how could I be so dumb? Emily rubbed at her temples which were aching fiercely. She was a lifelong migraine sufferer and she felt a headache coming on—a really bad one. She knew the only cure would be to lie down and take a nap. But she didn’t want to do that—she wanted to be up and around finding things out. She was being taken to a whole other solar system—possibly a whole other galaxy. How could she just lie down and let it happen?

Then again, what was she going to do? Go and demand that the big Kindred turn the spaceship around and take her home? She remembered how he’d seemed to grow into a monstrous shadow before the fire and his growling words, “I…am…Death.”

God! She shivered again. No, demanding anything was clearly out. But then what could she do?

She walked around to stand in front of the small fireplace and stared down into it. A fireplace seemed like a strange thing to have aboard a spaceship but then again, it wasn’t a regular fire at all—or at least, she’d never seen one like it. It seemed to be made of floating golden-red bubbles rather than flames but it gave off heat and light and the bubbles stayed contained in the small space—it was actually rather beautiful. Not that she was interested in it right now. Right now she just wanted to—

“Ow!” She put a hand to her temple again as a particularly sharp pain stabbed through her head. Okay, this was going to be one doozy of a migraine if she let it keep building. As much as she hated to admit it, she was going to have to go lie down on the vast bed at the other end of the room. If she didn’t, the pain would soon be so bad she’d be seeing double and puking her guts out.

“Well, at least I’m still wearing my nighty,” she muttered resignedly, leaving the fireplace to climb back onto the huge bed with its red and gold spread. She shrugged out of her robe and laid it across the end of the bed. As she got beneath the covers and laid her head on the crimson colored pillowcase, she thought she caught a whiff of a familiar scent. Putting her face to the pillow, she breathed it in—leather and smoke and spice.

Wait—this is his bed! She sat up quickly to avoid the intoxicating male aroma but the answering spike of pain in her temple left her groaning and clutching at her head. She sank back down onto the pillow, helpless to move despite her fear that the big Kindred’s scent would affect her the way it had last time. Still, if the other wanted to come forward in the middle of a migraine, let her. It would be better than enduring the pain herself, Emily thought miserably.

Unable to help herself, she closed her eyes and tried to lie still and quiet, begging the pain to recede and not take over her brain completely. Strangely, the warm, intoxicating fragrance of the big Kindred actually seemed to help. As she breathed it in, she felt more relaxed and the invisible vise that had tightened around her temples seemed to loosen.

It had been a long night and Emily was completely worn out. The pain and fear and uncertainty she’d been feeling for the past twenty four hours finally turned into an overwhelming weariness she could neither deny nor resist. Her breathing slowed and she finally drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

I wake in the night. I am thirsty. I go to the bathroom and run some water from the sink into my favorite blue mug. As I raise it to my lips, I look in the mirror and see that I am naked. Naked and pale in the moonlight streaming through the window…

But the girl who stares back at me from the mirror is not me—it is the other. She has my lips and cheekbones and nose but she gazes through me with golden eyes, her lustrous, black hair swirling around her shoulders. She looks like a princess—no, a queen coming into her own. I think she doesn’t see me or else I am completely beneath her notice. “You’re already gone,” that faraway gaze says, “Why should I even bother with you?”

A male comes up behind her—it is the big Kindred. Though the other is somehow taller than me, he still towers over her. He is also naked—the moonlight caresses his muscular chest lovingly. The other turns to him with an eager smile. The look he gives back is uncertain—uncertain but hungry. There can be no doubt he desires her. She goes to him and he takes her in his arms, holding her as if she was fragile…delicate.

But the other doesn’t want to be treated with care. She wants to be taken…bred. Her need is overwhelming. I feel it welling up within me as she pulls him to her, standing on her tiptoes to demand a kiss. He resists at first but then his mouth covers hers and he pulls her close. Though it is the other he is kissing, I can feel the heat of his big body against mine. I can smell his warm, rich scent—the scent that means danger and safety at the same time.

The scent fills me with need—the same need the other is feeling— and somehow I know he is making it just for me. It kicks my desire into overdrive making anything I’ve ever felt up ‘til now seem like a pale shadow—a mere whisper. My nipples are suddenly incredibly sensitive—my breasts full to overflowing. I feel the swollen lips of my sex part as my pussy blossoms with lust and my juices wet my inner thighs.

I feel the need to fuck—to breed—filling me as it fills the other and I know it is because she is me. She has taken over completely. Breaking the kiss with the big Kindred, she turns her head and looks me in the eye for the first time. Then, very slowly she smiles…

* * * * *

Emily woke up in a kind of sexual panic. Her heart was drumming against her ribs and the dream was fresh in her mind—a nightmare she couldn’t be free of. Yet, her breasts also felt full and tender and her pussy ached—throbbing with the same deep need to be filled and bred she’d felt in her sleep. Her eyes were burning too and though the headache was gone it felt like someone had lighted a fire inside her—waves of heat were rolling over her so fast she could barely breathe.

My eyes! Emily ran a trembling hand over her face as though she could feel the color change. Had the other taken over? Had she changed in her sleep?

She stumbled out of bed and looked wildly around for a mirror. She found one in the corner—a full sized 3-D viewer that showed her from all angles. Was she a little taller than she had been? The hem of her nighty seemed to be riding higher up her thighs than it had before. Or was that because her breasts were bigger? Because they definitely were—she was sure of it. And they were tender to touch. Oh my God, what’s happening to me?

But it was her eyes she was most concerned about. As she leaned forward, she saw the familiar flicker of gold. The other was trying to come forward, all right. Doing her best to take over Emily’s body…to steal her life.

“No!” Emily shouted at the viewer. “No, you can’t do it! I won’t let you!”

But how could she stop her?

A sudden thought came to her—she, Emily, couldn’t stop what was happening. But the big Kindred could. He had before, just by spanking her. Yes, it had been scary and humiliating but it had worked—the pain had driven the other underground.

Have to find him—have to ask him to get rid of her again. Before she takes over completely.

Panic made her lose all fear of the huge alien. She tore open the bedroom door and went running down the long, unfamiliar metal corridor looking for him. Only he could help her. Only he could put the other away, pushing her back like a malevolent jack-in-the-box that had popped out and was trying to escape.

* * * * *

“…that is unacceptable and you know it,” Tier Shan was saying from the viewscreen. He was a Vash`aran and his mandibles clicked as he spoke, the anger evident in his compound eyes. He was also Tragar’s superior in the Verrak and the only hope he had of rescinding the death sentence that currently hung over Emily’s head.

“You don’t understand,” Tragar said, trying to control his anger. “The contract was given erroneously. This female has done nothing wrong—she does not deserve to die. I was misled by the one who hired me.”

“That matters not in the slightest. Click-click. I know you have your own personal code of ethics and I have allowed it as long as it did not clash with the Verrak way. However, now it has become a problem. Click-click. You know perfectly well that a Verrak assassin does not care if his target is innocent or guilty, young or old, male or female. When you take a contract, you must fulfill it.”

“I cannot,” Tragar said thickly. “Tier Shan, she is a Khalla. Everything within me urges me to protect her.”

“Then you will die with her…or for her. You know the law of our order. Click-click.” Tier Shan’s mandibles worked angrily. “A death is needed to satisfy the contract. If you cannot do the job yourself, I must send another after you to take care of the matter.”

“No!” Tragar sat forward. The last thing he needed was another assassin as ruthless and deadly as himself after Emily. He could fight off other would-be killers with ease but another of the Verrak would severely test his resources.

“Then do it! Click-click! And do not speak to me again until it is done.”

“Tier Shan —”

Suddenly Emily came rushing into the control area wearing only the silky, thin night garment she’d had on when he took her from Earth. Only now, Tragar saw, she wasn’t even wearing the outer robe that went with it. The thin garment was clinging to her full curves and molding to her breasts in a most distracting way.

“Tragar, please—I know it sounds crazy but I need you to spank me again,” she gasped. “I…the other’s coming forward. I had such a strange dream and I can feel her trying to take over!”

Tragar dragged his gaze up to her face and saw that her eyes were wild—flickering between pale blue and deep gold. She was trembling all over and her scent…Gods. He tried not to inhale but couldn’t help it. Her scent was stronger than ever, a ripe, female musk that proclaimed her body’s growing readiness to be bred.

“Is this the target? Click-click.”

Seven Hells, he had forgotten all about his conversation with Tier Shan!

Emily stopped short and stared at the viewscreen.

“Oh my God,” she said faintly. “Why are you talking to a giant bug?”

“I can see the attraction,” his superior continued, his compound eyes raking over Emily’s barely clad form greedily. “She is quite juicy for one of your kind. Maybe I will come attend to her myself. Click-click.” The working mandibles sounded hungry.

A low, possessive growl rose in Tragar’s throat.

“Stay away from her and let me handle this, Tier Shan. Or I swear by all the gods that ever were I’ll split your carapace myself and spill your guts into space.”

“Very well. Click-click. I will let you handle it—for now. But be warned, Tragar—you cannot break the oath you swore without severe consequences. I or another of our kind will come after you if you fail to fulfill your duty.”

The narsh on Tragar’s arm burned briefly with a sharp, insistent pain as though to illustrate his point. Then, with a final angry clicking, the viewscreen went black.

“Who was that? Your boss?” Emily asked, putting a hand to her chest.

“That is not your concern. You should not be in this part of the ship.” Tragar rose from the captain’s chair and took her by the arm. He marched her back down the metal hallway and into his cabin—which he had given up so she could stay comfortably locked away. He was intending to leave her there and try to get far from her maddening scent, far from the heat it caused in his groin.

“Here. Lie down. Maybe you’ll feel better.” Tragar pushed her firmly down onto the bed and turned to go.

To his surprise, she jumped up and came after him, boldly tugging on his arm.

“No—you can’t just push me away like that. I need your help.” Her eyes were flickering again, changing from blue to gold so fast it was hard to follow. “I told you, she’s trying to take over. Trying to make me do…things I don’t want to do.”

“I told you before,” Tragar growled. “Your Kit’tara is part of you—your second self. She’s not some stranger inside you trying to hijack your body.” He tried to explain patiently but her scent was making it hard to think. Hard to do anything but react.

“But that’s exactly what it feels like!” She ran a hand through her hair, tousling the long, silky strands. “Look, have you ever read Fever Dream by Ray Bradbury? No, of course you haven’t,” she said, when he opened his mouth. “It’s about a boy that gets a sickness—an illness that gives him a high fever. But the fever changes him into something else—it takes over his body. First it’s just his hand…then the rest of him starts to change—starts to become other. No one believes him, not his doctor or his parents…” She ran both hands through her hair this time, her eyes wild. “And he changes even though he’s begging everyone all around him for help. Changes until his body isn’t his own anymore. At the end of the story he…he’s not himself. It’s someone else looking out of his eyes…using his body…pretending to be him. And he…” She let out a small, terrified sob. “He’s not there anymore. He’s gone.”

“Emily…” Her terror and sorrow tore at him, driving back some of the all- consuming lust, making it easier to concentrate on the girl in front of him instead of her warm, tantalizing smell.

“Please…” She put her hands on Tragar’s chest, holding the front of his black leather vest in a panicky-tight grip. “Please, I’m begging you to listen to me. Don’t just dismiss me or tell me I’m crazy! Help me.”

“What do you want me to do?” He spread his hands, trying not to touch her.

“Spank me, like you did before.” She left him and went over to the bed. With trembling hands, she raised the short hem of her night garment and pulled down her silky, pale blue panties. Then she gripped the bedpost with both hands and looked over her shoulder at him. “Please!”

Tragar sucked in a breath when he saw her round, full ass come into view. True, he had seen it when he spanked her earlier but this was different. The pose she was in was very like one of the shapes of submission that females on Rageron sometimes used to entice a Beast Kindred warrior to bed. The way her hands were raised over her head, her body bent at the waist so that her thighs were open for him was so reminiscent of the way a female would call her mate that he felt a low groan rising in his chest.

That wasn’t the only thing that was rising, either. For the first time in years, he could feel the mating fist at the base of his cock swelling, eager to thrust deep in her sweet pussy and lock them together for a long, leisurely session of bonding sex. Eager to breed her.

I must not—I cannot! I’m not right for her and besides, another early breeding would kill her!

He held on to that thought with all his might, willing his mating fist to go down, trying not to notice her scent.

The tears in her rapidly shifting eyes helped calm him. Her distress did nothing to fuel his lust—rather it damped the desire he felt and replaced it with a strong urge to help. But could another spanking really drive the Kit’tara back again when she seemed so determined to come forward? More importantly, could it keep Emily from entering the second stage of her Tenrah or was she moving out of Kalor and rapidly into Scintil? If that was the case they were going to have a hell of a lot worse problem than her sweet mating scent calling to him.

“All right,” he growled, stepping forward and trying not to notice the way her hips were thrusting out to show the sweet, wet nether lips of her pussy, swollen and hot with desire. “All right, I’ll fucking spank you. Just hold still.”

“I’ll try. I’d do anything—just don’t let her take over.” She bowed her head and braced herself, gripping the bedpost tightly, her full breasts swaying under the thin night garment.

Feeling like he was drowning, Tragar took aim and swatted her hard with the palm of his hand. She moaned and jumped as his hard palm connected, her breasts jiggling even more with the motion. He did it again, and again and then stopped when he saw the red marks his large hand was leaving on her pale, silky skin. He had the sudden urge to drop to his knees and kiss her there—kiss away the pain and redness he’d caused and then kiss deeper—to bury his face between her thighs and bathe her pussy with his tongue to make up for the hurt he’d caused. To taste her sweet juices right from the source…

He held himself back with an effort and asked instead, “Well? Is it helping?”

His voice came out rougher than he’d intended, slightly strangled which was exactly the way his shaft felt in the tight confines of his leather flight trousers.

“I…I don’t know.” She turned her head to look at him again. “My eyes still feel hot—are they still changing?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. The spanking wasn’t helping this time—her eyes were still flickering rapidly between pale blue and gold. She must have read the verdict in his face because a look of desperation came over her own delicate features.

“It’s not working is it?”

“I’m afraid not.” He eyed the pink handprints on her skin. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. You…you just need to spank me harder.” Her eyes dropped to his waist. “Use that.”

“What?” He looked down, fingering the thick black leather strap with its wide silver buckle. “You want me to use my fucking belt on you?”

“Yes—do it!” Her eyes blazed and for a moment he couldn’t tell what color they were—something that was neither blue nor gold but pure flame. “Do it!” she insisted.

“I cannot!” Tragar raised his hands in a gesture of warding. “You don’t understand how my kind feel about hitting females. This…this is hard enough. I cannot strap you with my belt as though you were some common thief or criminal I mean to punish!”

“You have to.” Her eyes blazed again—even brighter this time and for the first time he felt the fire of a Khalla—the consuming, demanding fire that refused to accept defeat or dissent.

“I don’t want to fucking hurt you!” It came out as a muted roar but still she didn’t back down.

“Well, I do want you to. Do it! Anything to stop this…this process I’m going through. Anything to drive her back. I don’t care how much it hurts—just do it!”

He had to admit her words made sense. If she was getting closer to Scintil they were in for trouble. The nearest stable wormhole that came out near Rageron was still days away. If this could keep her from entering the second stage too early…

“Hurt her,” he heard the voice of his old master saying. “Hurt her to help her, Tragar. Keeping the Tenrah in check is more important now than anything else, even the respect you feel for her as a female or the reverence you have for her as a Khalla.”

Could he do it? He didn’t want to but the fire in her eyes decided him—he had no choice.

“Goddess, forgive me,” he muttered as he unbuckled his belt and looped it carefully over his fist. He held it by the buckle, letting the black length of leather dangle from his hand like a snake. Then, raising his arm, he brought it down on her quivering buttocks.

Emily moaned and gasped, jumping as the belt snapped against her naked ass. But she only spoke one word: “Harder.”

“What?” Tragar couldn’t believe it. He’d given her a fairly decent blow. Nothing like what he would have given another male but still, it had left a wide red stripe across her soft, innocent bottom—a mark he was already regretting.

“I said harder!” She braced against the bedpost again, sticking her bare ass out further, spreading her legs to give him an easy target. “Do it harder—now!”

Almost by reflex he raised his arm again and brought down the belt much harder than before. She moaned and jumped but held tight to the bedpost.

“Emily? Khalla?”

“Don’t stop.” Her voice was a tight whisper. “Don’t stop—I think it’s working. Do it again!”

He whipped her again and then again, his arm rising and falling as if moved by her will alone. And indeed, maybe it was. The fire of a Khalla was nothing to dismiss lightly. A male could very well get burned if he was not careful, playing with such a flame.

At last, when her soft bottom was criss-crossed all over with red stripes he stopped.

“Why did you stop?” She turned to look over her shoulder, her pale blue eyes awash with tears. “Do it, Tragar—hit me again.”

“No! Goddess damn it—no.” Her tears and the way he had marked her filled him with remorse the hundreds of assassinations he had performed could not. He untangled the black leather belt from his hand and dropped it as though it was a poisonous creature that had bitten him.

“Do it!” she insisted but her voice sounded faint and far away. Suddenly she collapsed, crumpling to the floor in a little heap.

“Emily!” Her name was a groan on his lips. Rushing forward, he took her in his arms, trying to support her without hurting her. She was limp and lifeless in his arms—completely unresponsive.

Goddess, he thought as her head rolled loosely on his arm. Oh Goddess forgive me—what have I done?

Chapter Eleven

Someone was patting her cheek. “Emily, come back to me! Emily, please.”

The deep, urgent voice seemed to penetrate her brain, making her stir.

“What…?” Emily came back to consciousness slowly, feeling very strange indeed. She looked up at Tragar who was cradling her in his arms, an anxious expression on his face. “What happened?” she asked uncertainly.

“You fainted,” he said roughly. “Gods, I shouldn’t have done it—shouldn’t have used my belt on you. I should be beaten or killed for treating you so.”

“I asked you to,” she pointed out. She lifted a hand to her face. “And…my eyes, they’re not burning anymore.”

“Your Kit’tara has been driven back…though at a very high price.” Tragar sighed and shook his head. “Don’t ask me to do that to you again, Emily. I cannot.” The anguished look in his golden eyes spoke volumes of remorse.

“You have to do whatever’s necessary.” She sighed and tried to sit up. “I…I think I’m all right now. I just—ow!” Her bare bottom had brushed the carpeted floor, causing a flaring jet of agony to her wounded posterior.

“I’ll get a cooling cloth. Here.” The big Kindred helped her up, holding her as gently as though she was made of fine china and might break at the least touch. He laid her carefully on the bed, face down and left the room.

Emily lay there, very aware that her nightgown was hiked up and her panties were down somewhere around her ankles. But her ass was on fire and it was hard to think about anything else except how much it hurt.

Still, it was worth it if it got rid of the other—if it drove her back into whatever little box inside me she hides in, she thought grimly. Except…how many times would she have to go through this? How often would she have to get rid of the other, how many blows with the belt would she have to endure to keep holding her back? Could she stand it? Could she bear the pain to hold the other at bay? If I have to, I’ll do it, Emily decided. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it, damn it! Anything to keep her from taking over.

But could she count on Tragar to keep helping her? She couldn’t help remembering the stricken look on his face when she’d come to after fainting. He might be a brutal and deadly assassin but he hadn’t been kidding about how hard this was for him. Emily sensed he was close to hating himself for beating her with his belt, even though she’d all but commanded him to do it. What would she do if he refused to help her? If he—

Just then something cool and soft and wet connected with her bottom.

“Oh!” She jumped and looked around.

“It’s just me.” Tragar’s deep voice still sounded faintly strangled and the remorse on his face was clear. “Gods, look what I’ve done to you.”

“You did it because I asked you to,” Emily reminded him again. “And it worked, right? So it was worth it.” She tried to smile at him as he pressed the cool cloth very, very gently to her wounded bottom.

He sighed, looking deeply troubled.

“Worth it to keep you alive, I suppose and to keep your Tenrah from progressing. But I will still carry the memory of what I did to you to the grave.”

“Hey, come on,” Emily said, trying to ignore the awkwardness of talking to him while he was gently bathing her ass with the cool cloth. “I mean, you kill people for a living, right? How much worse could giving me a little whipping be?” Then she wanted to bite her lip—last time mentioning his career as an assassin had set him off in a big way. But this time he only answered quietly.

“Infinitely worse. The ones I killed—they were just targets. And I was ice inside—I felt nothing when they died.” His eyes had a faraway look, as though he was remembering someone or something only he could see. “I never thought to feel anything ever again. Not after Landra and Jalex…”

“Who?” Emily asked in a low voice.

The faraway look in his eyes faded to be replaced by a closed coldness.

“No one,” he growled. “I am getting off track. Sufficient to say I do not wish to beat you again.”

“Well, I hope you won’t have to but if the other starts coming back, I—ow!”

“What is it? Did I hurt you?” He withdrew the cooling cloth at once, frowning.

“No, it’s not that…” Emily shifted again and again the sharp pain lanced through her. But it wasn’t her ass that was hurting this time…it was her breasts. “I have to sit up,” she said, turning on her side. No matter how much her backside still stung, it was nothing to the sudden, stabbing pain she’d just experienced.

Tragar helped her up without comment and she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, grateful that the cooling cloth he’d used on her had helped a little at least.

“Where are you hurting?” he asked.

“It’s nothing. Just, um…” Emily didn’t exactly want to say she’d felt like someone was poking hot needles into her nipples although that was certainly the sensation she’d had a moment before when her breasts rubbed against the bed. She tried to look down as unobtrusively as she could, wondering if she could see anything through her nightgown. To her mortification, she absolutely could.

The pale blue, silky material, which had been loose and comfortable when she put the nightgown on, was stretched tight across breasts which were much, much larger than she remembered. She’d always had a fairly large chest—a full C cup verging on a D. But what she was looking at now was in E cup territory at least. Her nipples were poking out too, pressing obscenely against the thin fabric and making her look like some kind of a porn star.

“Oh my God!” Emily whispered, horrified. “It looks like I went and got really bad breast enhancement! What’s wrong with me?” She looked up at Tragar and saw there was a grim expression on his dark face. “What?” she demanded. “What is it—you know something, don’t you? Tell me what it is!”

He sighed heavily. “I hope I am wrong but…you may be entering Scintil, the second stage of your Shift.”

“What? No!” Emily protested. “You mean I’m further along than I was? But how is that possible?”

“Because Tenrah is a natural progression that all Khalla go through.”

“But you spanked me! It made the other go away and I thought—”

“Your Kit’tara might have been driven underground not by the beating I gave you, but the onset of Scintil.” He looked troubled. “If I remember my training correctly, your second self is in a kind of stasis or hibernation during the second stage of the Shift.”

“Well that’s good, I guess,” Emily said doubtfully. “But I don’t know about the trade off. On one hand I’m glad not to have some other entity trying to take over my body. On the other hand I apparently had to get porn star titties to get rid of her.”

Tragar frowned in evident confusion.

“Porn star titties? I’m sorry—I thought I knew your language but some of the vernacular still confuses me.”

Emily blushed. What was getting into her? She felt like she was changing and not just physically. She was more assertive—less scared and shy than she had been. Was it just because of everything she’d been through in the past twenty-four hours or was it part of what Tragar had called Tenrah or the Shift?

“I, uh…” She shook her head. “Never mind. The point is, how long does this stage last? And how can I reverse the whole process and just go back to being normal?”

Tragar sighed. “As for reversing the process completely, there is no way that I know of. And any of the stages of Tenrah may be gone through quickly or slowly, depending on your body’s own rhythm.” He looked grim again. “In your case, we have to hope you go through them slowly or we’ll never make it to Rageron in time. I just hope you’re only in the early stages of Scintil and not the later stages.”

“What? There are stages to the stages?” Emily shook her head. “This is crazy. How can you even tell what part of Scintin I’m in?”

“Scintil,” he corrected. “And there is a way to tell—a small test which may be preformed.”

“There is? Well then let’s do it—what are we waiting for?” Emily demanded. “I need to know where I stand and what’s going on with me!”

He looked uncomfortable.

“You may not…wish to perform it.”

“What? Why not? Is it embarrassing?”

“Potentially.” He cleared his throat. “It would involve showing me your breasts.”

“What? I mean, you’re already looking at them,” Emily protested, feeling her cheeks heat with a blush.

“I would need to see them without your night garment in the way.” He kept his tone absolutely neutral and Emily suddenly had the feeling that this situation embarrassed the huge warrior almost as much as it embarrassed her. It was that feeling that made her bite her tongue instead of demanding to know if he was being a pervert. Clearly he was strong enough to take advantage of her any time he wanted and just as clearly, that wasn’t what he wished. He didn’t want to hurt or embarrass her—this was somehow necessary.

“All right,” she said at last, taking a deep breath. “Here goes.”

Grasping the stretchy lace neck of her nighty, she pulled it out and peeled it down, bringing it just under her extremely full breasts. As she did she brushed one of her nipples with her hand and gave a sharp little cry of pain. Damn, that hurt! And she had barely touched herself!

“Are you all right?” Tragar was looking at her with concern and Emily was surprised to see he was looking at her face rather than her naked breasts.

“Yeah, I just—I had that sharp pain again when I barely touched myself. I just don’t know what’s going…” Her words trailed off as she looked down at her chest again, examining herself more closely. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “What the hell? My boobs are huge. And the nipples are all weird and puffy.”

It was true. Along with her breasts, her areolas seemed to have grown as well. They had been the size of quarters before—now they were bigger than silver dollars. Also, they were a much darker pink than usual and strangely puffed up—almost swollen. Her nipples were tight, erect points that poked out like exclamation points from the tips of her breasts, as though to emphasize how strangely obscene the whole situation was.

“So this is not your normal appearance?” Tragar asked, breaking her horrified contemplation of her new breasts.

“No…no of course not!” Emily looked up at him. “I mean just look at me! This isn’t normal for anyone who isn’t shooting an X-rated film about giant breasts!”

“They are larger but not out of proportion for your body,” he offered.

Emily scowled. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re failing miserably. This is just so weird. I mean, how could this happen all of a sudden?”

He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling. “It’s part of Scintil. I just hope you are in the early stages yet.”

“Well can’t you tell by looking?” she asked.

The big Kindred frowned, looking uncomfortable again.

“Not exactly, no. As I said, there is a…test to be preformed.”

“I thought looking at them was the test. What kind of test are we actually talking about?” Emily looked at him warily.

“We must determine if your nectar is flowing or not.” He sighed and ran a hand through his long, black hair. “Your nipples must be pinched to see if they are producing or not.”

“My what is flowing? And producing what?” Emily shook her head. This was just getting worse and worse. An unknown biological process she barely knew anything about was taking her over, changing her body completely in strange and frightening ways and there seemed to be nothing she could do about it.

It was like getting her period again back when she was a kid but this time to the tenth power. To say she felt like her body was betraying her was an understatement. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

Tragar sighed. “During Scintil the Khalla’s breasts fill with sweet nectar. In the early stages it remains within her breasts. In the later stages it begins to flow which signals that she will soon be moving into the third stage or Vlammen.”

“So…you want me to squeeze my nipples and see if anything comes out?” Emily demanded.

He nodded. “Essentially.”

“Well…” She shook her head. “God, this just keeps getting weirder and weirder. I keep thinking it’s all a nightmare and pretty soon I’m going to wake up.”

“This is no dream.” Tragar’s deep voice was sharp. “You cannot afford to let yourself believe that, Emily. What is happening to you is very real and potentially very deadly. I’m sorry to ask you to make this test but it’s important to know where we stand…to try and see how much time we have left.”

“Time before what?” she whispered, almost afraid to ask.

“The final stage when…” Tragar shook his head. “Never mind. Just, please…make the test.”

“Fine.” Cupping one of her new, larger breasts in her hands, Emily took her right nipple between her thumb and forefinger but before she even started to squeeze a horrible jolt of pain speared through her. “Ouch!” she gasped, pulling her hand away as though she’d been stung. “What the hell? I’m so sensitive. I barely touched myself but it feels like I just poked myself with a red-hot needle!”

Tragar didn’t look surprised. “It is part of Scintil—the Khalla is unable to touch the private areas of her own body. She must rely on her chosen mate to help her instead.”

“What?” Emily demanded, incensed. “You knew it was going to hurt when I touched myself but you told me to do it anyway?”

“I had to let you find out for yourself.” He looked at her blandly. “How would it have sounded if I told you right away that you needed a male’s touch and not your own? Would you have believed me?”

Emily had to acknowledge that he had a point. But still, that had hurt.

“Well all right,” she muttered. “But what am I supposed to do? I don’t have a, uh, chosen mate.”

“No, but you do have a male of your own species to help.” He looked at her soberly. “I believe that my touch with not be painful to you—your body should recognize me and respond to me as though I was your chosen mate—though I clearly am not.”

“So…you want to perform the test?” She looked apprehensively at his huge hands. As big as her breasts had suddenly become, she was certain he would still be able to palm her full globes.

“It’s not that I want to, although touching your lovely body will certainly be a pleasure,” he rumbled. “But that I need to—to see where we stand.”

“But…” His fingers looked very long and strong and she couldn’t help remembering how her own light touch had felt like needles and knives stabbing her tender nipple. How much more painful would it be, allowing him to pinch her in that most sensitive area?

“If you’re worried that I will take advantage, please don’t be,” he murmured. “I would never—”

“It’s not that,” Emily interrupted him. “It’s that…well…how much is this going to hurt? I didn’t mind the pain when you…when you strapped me with your belt because that was the only way to get rid of the other. But this…my nipples are suddenly so sore. And letting you squeeze them…”

“I don’t believe it will be painful to you at all,” he said. “But if you like, I can touch you first before applying any pressure.”

“But that’s all I did was just touch myself. And I…” Emily shook her head. She hated to be a coward but the pain had been really sharp and awful. “I just…don’t know.”

“Emily, look at me.” Tragar lifted her chin, raising her face so that he could look into her eyes. She was surprised to see the gentleness in his golden gaze. “I won’t hurt you,” he rumbled. “Please trust me.”

“I…” For some reason she felt strangely breathless. “All right,” she said at last. “I…I trust you. You can try.”

“Thank you.” He held her gaze a moment longer before releasing her chin and stroking his knuckles gently over her hot cheek. “I’ll go slowly,” he promised. “I’ll barely touch you at first, I swear it.”

“All right,” she whispered.

He nodded again and reached forward slowly to cup her right breast in his large left hand. They were facing each other and she couldn’t help stiffening at first. But her full globe settled naturally into his big palm and for right now, all she felt was the warmth of his skin against hers.

Just wait though, whispered a little voice in her head. He hasn’t even tried to touch your nipple yet. Just wait until he—

“Ohhh…” The soft sound fell out of her as he lifted his thumb and traced very, very lightly around the very outer edge of her newly puffy areola.

“Are you all right?” He looked up, catching her eyes as he continued to move the pad of his thumb gently around the edge of her swollen pink peak.

“Yes, it…it doesn’t hurt,” Emily admitted. Actually, she was having a different kind of sensation from his light touch—one she didn’t want to admit even to herself. “You…you can try a little more, I guess,” she whispered, mesmerized by the sight of her breast being cupped in his large hand.

“Like this?” His thumb moved inward, tracing another circle—this one right around the tight bud of her nipple.

“Y-yes.” Emily bit her lip at the way he was touching her—almost but not quite caressing the nipple itself. His gentle stroking had started a strange, new pulling sensation low in her abdomen—and a deep ache between her thighs.

“May I touch your peak?” he murmured. “Do you feel ready to let me try?”

“Yes, I…yes, do it.” Emily nodded and watched as his thumb stopped circling and skimmed lightly over the tight pink bud of her nipple. “Oh!” she gasped as a jolt of pleasure went through her.

He pulled back his thumb at once.

“Did it hurt?”

“No, I…” How could she tell him his touch had given her the exact opposite of hurt? That it gave her extreme pleasure instead? It was too embarrassing. “I’m fine,” she said instead, trying to make her voice sound normal instead of breathy and out of control. “I…you can go on now, I guess. I mean, you can squeeze as long as you’re really, really careful.”

“I will but…” He cleared his throat. “If you’ll forgive me, the test is more accurate if performed with both peaks at once.”

“Oh, you want to…to do both?” Emily bit her lip. But he was already palming one of her breasts and tracing her nipple lightly with his thumb. She supposed it couldn’t hurt to let him touch both at once. “All right,” she said at last. “Just…take it slow, all right?”

“Of course.” He brought up his other hand and slipped it under the heavy globe of her left breast. “Beautiful,” he murmured hoarsely, under his breath.

Emily had an idea he was talking more to himself than to her but she still couldn’t help blushing. God, was she really doing this? Sitting here with a strange alien male she hadn’t even known a day ago and letting him stroke and caress her bare breasts? Not only that—an alien male who was sent to kill you, pointed out a little voice in her brain. But that seemed beside the point now. Unless he was intending to kill her with pleasure which seemed like a distinct possibility.

“Oh.” She couldn’t help the small moan that escaped her as he circled both nipples at once, stroking her sensitive points with his thumbs and watching for her reaction. He seemed to understand that her exclamation wasn’t one of pain because he didn’t withdraw but only looked up to catch her gaze.

“I’m going to squeeze you now, Emily” he murmured. “Very gently at first but then harder if you can take it. We need to be sure if your nectar is flowing yet or if it’s just coming in.”

“All…all right,” she whispered breathlessly, wishing the uncomfortable pleasure between her legs would go away. Instead it only grew as he took her tight nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. She pressed her thighs together, trying to ignore the heat and wetness gathering there and the way her pussy felt so hot and swollen as he began to squeeze.

Emily thought she was prepared in case the pain came back but as the big Kindred applied pressure to her tight peaks, the last thing she’d expected happened. A pleasure every bit as sharp and bright as the agony she’d felt earlier with her own touch flared through her.

“Ah!” she gasped as the whipcrack orgasm raced through her body. “Oh, God!” She jerked forward, pressing her breasts against his hands involuntarily, as though her body was begging for more. Her pussy was suddenly on fire with need.

The orgasm was such an unfamiliar sensation that at first Emily didn’t even know what had happened. She’d been completely sexless ever since the rape. She’d tried never to think about sex or watch sexy movies or read even mildly spicy romance novels. Touching herself—which she had sometimes indulged in during college before that awful night with Grayson—was out of the question. She just didn’t want anything to do with any of it.

But now the big Kindred had given her the first orgasm she’d had in years and just from squeezing her nipples. It was a sharp, quick pleasure that was over almost as soon as it started but his touch on her breasts had definitely made her come.

“Emily?” He was looking at her with concern in his golden eyes but didn’t quite release her nipples. “What happened?” he asked softly. “Was it painful?”

“No, just…” She took a ragged breath, trying to still her pounding heart. She could still feel the aftershocks from the intense pleasure running from her tight nipples to her pussy. Her pussy which suddenly felt incredibly wet and swollen. “Just unexpected,” she finally managed to gasp out.

He raised an eyebrow at her, clearly wanting to know what was going on. But Emily wasn’t about to tell him she’d just had her first orgasm since college just from him pinching her nipples. She pressed her thighs together tightly, hoping he wouldn’t guess.

“Um…what about the test?” she said, trying to gather her scattered thoughts and get back to the point. “What happened?”

“See for yourself,” he rumbled, releasing her nipples to her mingled regret and relief.

Emily looked down and saw a small bead of cloudy amber liquid perched at the tip of her right nipple and another, slightly larger one perched on the left. It looked a little like honey that had started to crystallize.

“Oh my God,” she said unsteadily. “What…what does that mean?”

“It’s not as bad as I feared.” Tragar studied the small beads of liquid thoughtfully. “There isn’t much nectar and it is thick and not too clear.”

“And that’s good because…?” Emily asked, still looking at her breasts.

“When you are fully into Scintil the nectar should run clear and flow easily,” he rumbled. “I have heard stories of Khalla whose breasts ran like fountains with their sweet nectar.”

“What?” Emily shook her head in disbelief. “You’re telling me that soon I’ll be shooting this stuff everywhere? That I’ll be flowing like a fountain?”

He looked at her, his golden eyes half-lidded with some emotion she was afraid to name.

“It’s thought to be very beautiful by our people, Emily. Flowing nectar demonstrates a Khalla’s fertility and bounty. It is considered good luck.”

“Not by me.” Emily ran her hand through her hair distractedly. God, what could she do to halt this process which kept getting weirder and weirder? Maybe someone on his home planet of Rageron could help her since they all seemed to know all about it. “So…we have time to get to your home planet?” she asked, indicating her bare breasts.

He frowned. “That remains to be seen. Rageron is at least two weeks journey from here because my craft cannot fold space. I have to rely on stable wormholes to make my way through the universe.”

“But we’re going to try, right?”

“Possibly. There is one last test. I must taste the nectar.”

“Uh, really? You want to taste it?” Emily had been planning to go in the bathroom—where ever it was in his ship—and wash it off. “What will that prove?” she asked.

“If the nectar is bland, you should remain in the first stage of Scintil for some time—hopefully buying us time to get to Rageron. But if it’s sweet…” He shook his head. “That will limit our time to get there considerably.”

“All right. Um, if you say so.” Emily shifted uncomfortably. “I guess if you really don’t mind tasting it…”

“Tasting the nectar of a Khalla is considered a great honor,” he murmured.

“All right. And how do you want to…” She motioned at her jutting breasts, not sure how to finish.

“If you would permit me, the traditional way is to taste the nectar right from the source,” he said gravely.

Emily’s heart, which had begun to slow down a little, started beating double time again.

“So you’re asking if you can suck my…”

But he was already shaking his head.

“No, sucking is forbidden and wrong. Besides, such an action would surely stimulate the nectar to flow and cause you to pass through the early stages of Scintil too quickly. Think of it as more of a kiss—I ask only to take your nipple within my mouth for a moment and bathe it with my tongue in order to taste your nectar.”

“Oh, uh…” Emily squeezed her thighs together even tighter, feeling hot and bothered all over again. It shouldn’t be a big deal, she argued with herself. He’s just testing to see what’s going on. And besides, he’s been touching and pinching your nipples already—why should having his tongue on you for a minute be any different?

But somehow it was different, and the thought of the big Kindred taking one of her nipples between those sensuous lips and lapping at the tight, sensitive peak made her pussy throb. But what else could she do?

Tragar was waiting quietly, watching her face as she decided whether she would permit this or not. His patience and the fact that he wasn’t pushing her or demanding she let him do this helped decide her.

“Go ahead,” she whispered at last, straightening her shoulders and pressing her breasts out toward him. “I…I guess it’s all right.”

“You honor me,” he said gravely in that deep, rumbling voice. Then, to her surprise, he got off the bed and got on his knees before her.

“Um…why are you…?” She indicated his position.

“I’m showing reverence to a Khalla. You honor me greatly with your trust, allowing me to take your nipple between my lips even for a moment,” he said.

“Oh…” Emily bit her lip. As it turned out, his change in position was also beneficial. Because he was so much taller than her, it helped put his face more or less on the level of her breasts.

“Khalla,” he murmured, and cupped her right breast in his hand very gently. Then, his eyes never leaving hers, he leaned forward and placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on her tight peak.

Emily bit back a gasp as she watched her full pink nipple slip slowly into his mouth. True to his word he didn’t suck her at all but she did feel the warm, wet glide of his tongue circling her areola and then, slowly, lapping gently but firmly over her sensitive bud.

“Oh,” she couldn’t help moaning as her pussy throbbed again. She squeezed her thighs tightly together, wishing she’d thought to put her panties back on. But they were still around her ankles from the spanking earlier. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so bare and vulnerable…or so hot.

Tragar seemed to take a long, long time to taste the small droplet of nectar which had been perched on the tip of her nipple. He caressed her peak over and over, lapping slowly with his hot tongue, making her squirm. Emily was afraid she might come again and indeed, she did feel the pleasure beginning to grow, but somehow she was able to keep from shaming herself while he licked her.

At long last he withdrew, leaving her puffy nipple shiny and wet. Emily shivered and suppressed a moan as the cool air of the room swirled around her tight peak.

“Well?” she somehow made herself ask.

He frowned. “I think it’s sweet.”

“You think?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you…do you need to taste the other one to be sure?” Why was she offering to let him do this to her again? She didn’t know—the words just seemed to come out on their own.

His golden eyes were half-lidded again as he looked at her.

“It might be best,” he rumbled.

“Well then. I mean, I guess if you need to…”

Biting her lip, Emily thrust her other breast forward, offering herself to him.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he murmured hoarsely. “You honor me deeply, allowing me to taste both of your tight peaks.”

“Uh, you’re…you’re welcome, I guess,” Emily whispered, not knowing what else to say. She knew it wasn’t right but she couldn’t help wanting to feel his hot mouth on her again, to feel the soft warmth of his tongue caressing her aching nipple so gently.

But Tragar surprised her. Instead of taking her second nipple into his mouth, he cupped her breast and began to lap her tight peak with long, slow, delicious strokes of his tongue.

Emily gasped as she watched him, unable to take her eyes away for a moment. Before she’d been able to feel him licking her, but she hadn’t seen anything because her nipple had been in his mouth. This time she could watch as his warm, wet tongue lapped over her puffy nipple, sweeping from side to side and then circling around and around until he got to the very point. And the whole time, he kept his eyes on her face, almost as thought he was saying, Look at me…watch how I taste you…watch me lap your sweet, pink bud…

She could feel the pleasure building inside her again, winding tighter and tighter like a wire in her belly that might snap and send her over the edge at any moment.

“I…uh…” Her breath came out high and breathless. “Why are you…I mean…”

He stopped for a moment.

“I am trying to stimulate your body to produce a little more nectar without sucking you, Emily. Do you wish me to stop?”

“No,” she whispered at once, without even thinking about it. God, did she sound desperate or what? “I…I mean do what you have to do,” she amended quickly.

“I will.” His voice was a low possessive growl. “Do you mind if I massage your breast some to make it produce?”

“Not…not if you’re gentle, I guess,” Emily whispered.

“Always, Emily.” His eyes met hers again as he began a slow, gentle massage, his long fingers kneading her full globe.

Emily gasped as she saw another cloudy golden drop, this one much larger, slowly grow on the sensitive tip of her nipple. She thought the big Kindred would lean over and taste it at any moment but he just kept up his gentle massage until at last the bead grew too large and broke, the amber liquid flowing down over her areola and the underside of her breast in a sticky trail, like thick honey.

Only then did he lean down and, starting at the undercurve of her breast, lick upwards, ending with a last, slow caress of her aching nipple with his tongue. Emily’s pussy surged again—she didn’t know how much more she could take before she embarrassed herself with another unwanted orgasm.

“Oh God,” she whispered brokenly. “Tragar…”

He straightened up, his eyes burning.

“Sweet,” he announced and there was a mixture of pleasure and deep worry in his low voice. He looked at her. “This isn’t good, Emily.”

“I…uh…” Her mouth was almost too dry to talk. “What…what are we going to do? Isn’t there anyone any closer than Rageron who can help me?”

The big Kindred started to shake his head, then stopped.

“There is,” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”

“What? Think of what? Is there someplace we can go? Someone who can help?”

“My old master, Xen’dex—I have been thinking of him often. It was he who taught me everything I know about Khalla and the stages of Tenrah.”

“Where—on Rageron?” Emily asked.

“Yes, that was where I learned from him. But I have since heard that he found and mated a Wulven female and was living on her home world of G’nera.”

“Is that near by?” Emily asked hopefully.

“At this point it’s a hell of a lot closer than Rageron.” Tragar rose to his feet, moving with surprising grace for such a big guy. “Let me call him. If the Goddess is smiling on you, he may still be there. If anyone could help us, he could.”

“I guess I’ll cross my fingers.” Emily got unsteadily to her feet. “Uh, is there a bathroom anywhere around here?”

“The fresher is the small door beside the fire-globe pit.” He gestured to a door half hidden in the shadows by the fireplace that Emily hadn’t noticed before. “Everything you need should be in there.”

“Wait…” She touched his arm to stop him from leaving.

“Yes?” He turned back to her, raising an eyebrow.

“This is your room, isn’t it?” Emily asked, motioning to the comfortably furnished room.

Briefly, he nodded.

“Then…why did you give it to me? And where are you sleeping?”

“There are other bunks in the ship,” he said. “And I wished you to be comfortable.”

“So if you want me to be comfortable, can I come and go as I please?” Emily felt like it was a little late to be asking this now but she couldn’t forget the feeling of being a prisoner aboard the ship. “I mean, I wasn’t sure after…after I made you upset earlier.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his thick mane of black hair.

“I must apologize for that. You touched a nerve but I had no cause to treat you as I did. Yes, you may have the run of the ship although I must ask you not to touch any controls.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Emily raised her hands and then realized that her breasts were still exposed. Feeling awkward, she hastily pulled up her nightgown, wincing in pain as the thin material scratched her sensitive peaks mercilessly. “Ouch!” she exclaimed.

Tragar was instantly concerned.

“Problems?”

“Just…” she plucked at the silky material, trying to keep it away from her swollen nipples. “Now even my nightgown hurts. And this is my oldest and softest one.”

He frowned, looking worried again.

“Pain with your own touch is expected. But extreme sensitivity to other materials isn’t a good sign.” He shook his head. “Especially considering how sweet your nectar is.”

Emily tugged at her nightgown some more, wishing it was looser.

“What can I do about it?”

“I’ll ask Master Xen’dex if I can get hold of him. Until then, I suppose you might have to forgo covering yourself.”

“What—you mean walk around with my bare boobs sticking out?” Emily demanded. “I can’t go around topless all day! I can’t.”

“Why not?” he asked reasonably. “We are the only two living beings aboard the ship.” His voice dropped to a soft growl. “And I have already seen and caressed your breasts and tasted your nipples, Emily. You need not be ashamed to leave them bare around me.”

“I…um…” Her mouth was suddenly dry again and her heart was pounding. God, why did he have this affect on her? Already her pussy was throbbing again. She wished she could cross her legs together and squeeze her thighs tight but that was difficult while she was standing.

“Mmm…” The soft growl rumbled in his throat and she could see his nostrils twitching, almost as if he was scenting her. Suddenly she remembered him talking about her scent—the scent of a Khalla in heat. She wanted more than ever to cross her legs and try to hide her desire. It was so embarrassing to be so obviously turned on!

“I…I think I’d better go to the bathroom now,” she whispered at last in an unsteady voice. Stepping around him on legs that threatened to give way at any time, she hurried to the small door by the fireplace and shut herself in.

* * * * *

Tragar stood for a moment, inhaling deeply, still savoring her scent. Though it had grown stronger and more alluring, it was also more complex. The new tendrils and layers of female fragrance in the air spoke of her awakening need…but also her tenuous situation. The smell of Kalor had been wild and hot—a female first going into heat, unable to control herself. Scintil was different—it was an in-between stage, a holding pattern. It spoke of uncertainty and the need for security and protection. But under it all was still Emily’s own, sweet feminine musk which called to him.

The new scent combination was a good thing, Tragar told himself. It roused his protective urges more than his mating instincts. Oh, he still had fantasies of tasting her and taking her—of pressing his shaft deep within her pussy until she opened for all of him and took his mating fist deep within for bonding. But they weren’t so overwhelming as to make him blind to her needs for safety. She needed a male to guard her at this most fragile and vulnerable time when her nectar started to flow. More than ever he wanted to be that male, even though he knew he could not be the one who would eventually breed and bond her.

Doubtless once they finally reached the Holy Mountains of Rageron the elders would find the right male for her—one who deserved her. One who hadn’t turned his back on the Goddess and everything the Kindred stood for in order to pursue death.

The idea of that—of another male taking Emily, holding her sweet, curvy body close and bonding her to him—made a low growl rise in the back of Tragar’s throat. But he told himself not to be ridiculous.

You’re just feeling protective because of her scent, he told himself uneasily. She’s nothing to you—not really. But if that was true, why hadn’t he been able to kill her? Even before he’d learned she was Khalla he had been strangely reluctant to carry out his contract. The narsh on his arm burned again—reminding him that what he was doing was both foolish and lethal—tantamount to signing his own death warrant. Yet, what else could he do?

Sighing, he went back to the control area to make the call to G’nera. Maybe his old master could help him make sense of this mess—he just prayed that Xen’dex was indeed there. If not, Tragar had no idea what to do or who to turn to.

Chapter Twelve

Emily put the small cutting implement she’d found, which looked kind of like curved scissors, down on the bathroom counter. Then, with a sigh, she pulled her newly altered nightgown over her head. She’d hated like hell to cut up her only clothing but she didn’t see any way around it. Her new extra-large porn star nipples were simply too sensitive to let anything touch them and she’d told herself that cutting holes for them to poke out of would be better than just going around topless all the time.

Now, surveying the results in the 3D viewer, she wasn’t so sure. The pale blue nightgown still clung to the full curves of her breasts but now her nipples were jutting out of it obscenely, as though they were playing a perverted game of peek-a-boo. Still, at least most of her was covered, she reasoned. And she didn’t feel like someone was scraping her sensitive peaks raw with sandpaper.

Looking down, she fingered the soft, silky material of the nightgown. How could something so soft feel so rough and hurt so much? It didn’t make any sense. The only thing that didn’t hurt was the big Kindred’s touch. His hands and mouth on her had been incredible—more pleasurable than anything else she’d ever felt. And that included the little vibrator she’d used back in college before Grayson had hurt her and turned her off sex forever.

Stop it, she told herself uneasily. Stop thinking about it. Tragar only did what he had to do, that’s all.

But God, there was no denying that letting him do it had made her more hot and bothered than she could ever remember being in her life. And there was something else, too. In the past, any kind of sexual thought and feeling had immediately brought the rape to mind, which had caused her to shove down any kind of urges she was tempted to feel. But when she was with Tragar…

When I’m with him, I don’t think about what Grayson did at all. I can’t—all I can concentrate on is his hands on my body…his mouth on my breasts…Is it because he’s of my same species, like he said? Or is it something else?

No, she had to stop this line of thought! She had much bigger things to worry about right now. Such as how the hell she could stop the weird biological change her body seemed determined to go through. And when, if ever, she would get back home. Not that she could teach Kindergarten in the state she was currently in, but if she could somehow reverse it and go back to normal—

“Oh!” Emily gasped as something small and furry in the corner of the room caught her eye. She was frozen for a split second but whatever it was scuttled out of sight before she could see much more than a pair of beady red eyes and a long, skinny tail. Ugh—well so much for being “the only two living beings” aboard the ship! She wondered if Tragar knew he had a pest problem—then again was one whatever it was really a problem? She hadn’t seen anything else like it since she’d been on board. Of course, she had been slightly distracted…

That thought led to more memories of him licking her nipples slowly and gently which she quickly tried to suppress. Instead, she concentrated on smoothing down her nightgown and tidying her hair which had gotten considerably mussed in the past hour she’d spent with the big Kindred. She would tell him about the mouse or whatever it was she’d seen later but for now she just wanted to look presentable. Well, as presentable as she could while dressed as a stripper, anyway.

Watching herself in the 3-D viewer, her eyes were inescapably drawn to the wide, puffy nipples poking out of her butchered nightgown. To her dismay, she saw that two large amber beads had formed on either nipple. As she watched, one of the beads grew too large and broke, slipping down her areola to leave a honey colored stain on her nightgown. Oh God, was she leaking now? Was she going to start shooting off like a fountain, like Tragar had said?

Biting her lip, she turned away from the viewer to go find him. Maybe he’d had a chance to speak to his old teacher by now and would have some idea of what to do for her.

Liar—you just want to let him lick your nipples again! whispered a snarky little voice in the back of her head. Emily pushed it away. Or maybe let him cuddle you while you cry on his big, muscular shoulder, or…

Stop it! He’s a trained assassin—a killer, she reminded herself sharply. And the only reason he’s helping you instead of shoving you into a body bag is because of biology—he said so himself. So don’t start getting hung up on him, Emily—he’s trouble with a capital T and he doesn’t care anything for you. Not really. Don’t forget it.

* * * * *

“Tragar. I am…surprised to hear from you.” His old Master Xen’dex’s voice came through loud and clear but his image was missing. Apparently his home transmitter wasn’t strong enough to send a visual likeness such a distance through space. Not that Tragar minded, just hearing his old master’s voice again made him feel better. As a young male, growing to maturity on Rageron, there seemed to be no problem too thorny for Master Xen’dex to solve, no question he didn’t have the answer to.

“Master Xen’dex,” he said respectfully, addressing the blank viewscreen. “I’m very glad to have reached you. Many years have passed between us yet here I am, seeking your wisdom again.”

“Yes, many years…” his old teacher mused. “I heard what happened to you, my student. I am…more sorry than I can say. Sometimes the will of the Goddess is hard to fathom.”

“Or perhaps she’s just intentionally cruel,” Tragar growled. Then he got hold of himself. “Forgive me, Master, but I have a problem I think only you can help me solve.”

“Speak, Tragar. Tell me of this problem.”

Tragar took a deep breath, trying to think how to begin. But there was no easy way to say it.

“I have…stumbled on a Khalla,” he said at last.

“A true Khalla? Away from Rageron?” His old master sounded astonished.

“Far from our home world,” Tragar affirmed. “Not only that, she is in the throes of Tenrah. In fact, she just moved from Kalor into Scintil.”

“The early or late stages of Scintil?” His master’s voice was sharp.

“Early stages yet. I, uh, performed the test myself.” Tragar cleared his throat. “Her nectar is not yet flowing but it is very sweet and she has extreme sensitivity to anything but my hands and, er…mouth.”

He coughed, trying to keep his voice even and unconcerned. But he couldn’t help remembering the way Emily had panted and moaned breathlessly as he licked the sweet nectar from her nipples. The look in her eyes—half drugged with pleasure as he tasted and stroked her sweet, pink peaks…

“That’s a very volatile situation,” Master Xen’dex’s voice pulled him from the illicit memory. “Are you her chosen mate?”

“I am not.” Tragar couldn’t help feeling a pang as he admitted it. “But I am acting as her mate until we can get her to the Kindred elders in the Holy Mountains on Rageron. However, now I am not certain if we can get there in time before she moves through the other stages of the Shift.”

“You can with the proper supplies and advice.” The certainty in his old master’s voice gave Tragar a boost of confidence. “But you must come to see me at once.”

“I’m still a solar day’s journey from the wormhole that dumps out by G’nera but I will set a new course immediately.”

“Good. In the meantime, the most important thing is to keep the nectar from flowing,” Xen’dex said. “If it starts, you must stop it.”

“How?” Tragar leaned forward, staring at the viewscreen as though he could look through it and see his old master’s face.

“Steady pressure applied until the flow stops should do it,” Xen’dex said. “When you get to me, I have some neutral-charge soft clamps that will help control the flow and some healing cream to help with pain. Until then, you’ll have to use your fingers if she’s too sensitive to let anything else touch her.”

Tragar shifted in his seat, picturing the scene…He could almost see himself cradling Emily in his lap, reaching around to cup her full breasts and pinch her tight nipples while she writhed against him… Then he felt a surge of guilt. He shouldn’t want to touch her so much. She wasn’t his to comfort and heal and protect—not really. He was only watching over her until he could get her to their home world where someone who was deserving of the honor of a Khalla’s love would take her from him. After the things he had done, he would never be worthy of her.

Just do what’s necessary, he told himself sternly. Don’t allow your heart to get involved—love only leads to pain. A fact he knew from agonizing personal experience.

“I’ll do what is necessary,” he promised out loud—speaking to both his old master and himself. “Only that and nothing more.”

“A wise choice,” Xen’dex said. “And if the nectar continues to well up, you can try rolling the nipples between your fingers or tugging to stop the flow. The only thing you don’t want to do is suck them—you must resist the urge, even if you have to clean her peaks with your tongue.”

“Naturally not,” Tragar growled. He tried not to imagine suckling her pink peaks and massaging her breasts, urging the sweet, warm nectar to flow, but it was difficult to push the taboo image from his head. “I know it is forbidden.”

“Good. The nectar of a Khalla must be allowed to flow freely and bless the land on which it falls. No male is worthy of consuming such bounty—not even her chosen mate.”

“Which I am not,” Tragar said. The thought of such as he being a true mate to a Khalla was almost sacrilegious—he was completely unworthy after the life he had lived. “But even if I was, I would never suck the nectar from her peaks. It would be a blasphemy of the highest order.”

“I’m glad to hear you remember my lessons so well.” Master Xen’dex sounded pleased.

“I never thought I’d have to apply them,” Tragar said wryly. “I’m very glad you’re close enough to help.”

“It was the will of the Goddess,” Xen’dex said. “My connection is losing strength, Tragar. I hope to see you soon.”

“You will,” Tragar assured him. “I’m setting a course now.”

He turned off the viewscreen and punched in the new coordinates. He had just finished when he heard a soft sound behind him. Whirling around, he saw Emily standing there, biting her lush lower lip. There was a worried, uncertain look in her big eyes.

“So…you have to, uh, pinch me?” she asked softly. She was holding her arms crossed in front of her though she was clearly not touching her breasts.

“Only if your nectar starts flowing.” Tragar cleared his throat. “Hopefully it won’t be necessary.” He nodded. “I see that at least you’re able to tolerate the fabric of your night garment rubbing against your skin. That’s a good sign.”

“Uh, yeah. About that…” she began in a small voice. But then she simply stood there, looking at him indecisively, hiding her breasts.

“Emily?” He pushed the captain’s seat back from the control bank and swiveled it to face her. “Are you all right?”

“Not…exactly.” Slowly she dropped her arms to show him what she’d been hiding.

Tragar sucked in his breath when he saw her swollen pink nipples thrusting through two ragged holes in her night garment. Clearly the little female had been trying to make herself as decent as possible under the circumstances. However the sight of her puffy nipples poking out of the pale blue fabric was somehow even more provocative than her bare breasts had been.

But that wasn’t all there was to see—drops of amber liquid were welling from each tight peak and leaking slowly down to leave dark stains on her night garment. Clearly, she was beginning to flow. Her nectar was still cloudy and wasn’t flowing as freely as it would but still, this was a very bad sign indeed.

Tragar thought she looked like a fertility goddess with the amber nectar welling from her breasts. She looked beautiful. As well as very, very frightened.

“Gods,” he muttered, his shaft hardening instantly in his flight leathers. But his lust couldn’t help her—he pushed it away roughly and concentrated on controlling himself. After a moment he felt his mating fist, at least, go down.

“Tragar…I’m scared,” she said in a small voice. “This is bad, right?”

“Come here.” He motioned at his lap. He would have liked to take her someplace comfortable like the sleeping platform but there was no time—they needed to control the flow now, before things went any further.

She came to him hesitantly and perched carefully on his knee.

“Are…are you really going to pinch me again?”

“Does it frighten you?” he murmured, stroking her bare arms to try and calm her. “It didn’t hurt last time, did it?”

“No, but it…” She paused, clearly not sure how to continue.

“Go on,” Tragar encouraged gently. Her scent was clearly saying she needed comfort and reassurance and he wanted desperately to give it.

“It…well, it didn’t hurt—it felt good. Um, way too good, actually,” she said in a low voice. “It made me…I mean, I sort of lost control. When you pinched me, I mean.”

Tragar remembered the way she’d gasped and moaned when he first applied tight pressure to her peaks and suddenly understood.

“It made you come, didn’t it?” he murmured, still stroking her arm.

Shamefacedly, she nodded.

“I…I couldn’t help it. I don’t know why—”

“It’s not unusual for a Khalla to come when her nipples are stimulated,” Tragar told her. “During Scintil, they are the most sensitive part of you. It’s not unusual to feel pleasure associated with them in other parts of your body as well.”

“You mean in my…” She gave him a sidelong glance and crossed her legs nervously.

“In your pussy, yes,” he finished for her, feeling his cock surge again. Gods, it was a good thing she was sitting on his knee and not directly against his crotch! But he didn’t want to give in to his own lust and desire—her scent said she still needed reassurance. He wanted to make her feel better.

“It’s just…” She squeezed her thighs together which seemed to be a habit of hers when she was nervous. “It…I got so…so wet. It was embarrassing.”

Her voice had dropped so low Tragar could barely hear her but he understood what she was worried about.

“It’s common for a Khalla’s pussy to grow wet and swollen during the stimulation of her peaks,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “During the later stages of Scintil and the beginning of Vlammen your cunt honey may flow as freely as your nectar. It is nothing to be worried or ashamed about.”

“I just…it was so sudden. I haven’t had an…an orgasm in years. Not since Grayson…I mean, I used to…to have them before that but after he…” She shook her head. “After that happened I never wanted anything to do with any kind of sex. Not even, uh, self stimulation.” She blushed hard as she said it, her pale cheeks going rosy red. “So I didn’t expect to ever feel, uh, anything ever again.”

Tragar knew how she felt. He too, was feeling things he’d never thought to experience again—emotions he’d thought were dead and buried. And all since he had taken Emily aboard his ship and into his life.

It’s just biology—just instinct, he tried to tell himself. But could biology explain how the solid block of ice that had encased his heart for so many years seemed to finally be thawing? Could instinct explain why he wanted to hold her in his arms and comfort her, to protect her with his own life if necessary?

He pushed the thoughts away with some difficulty.

“Emily,” he murmured. “Tenrah is a time of awakening—some compare it to a second birth in some ways. You shouldn’t be surprised or ashamed of anything your body goes through at this time. And that includes coming when I have to stop the flow of your nectar.”

A look flitted over her face—half embarrassed defiance and half longing.

“You mean when you pinch me, right? Are you…do you need to do that now?”

“The sooner the better,” Tragar said grimly. “I’m afraid the longer you let your peaks flow unchecked, the more difficult it will be to stop.”

“All right. I guess I’m ready.” She settled herself more firmly in his lap and he bit back a groan at how good her soft bottom felt rubbing against his shaft. She clearly felt his hardness because she jumped a little and looked back at him. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, uh…”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he growled. “I cannot help the way my body reacts to yours. It is simple biology—your body wants to be bred and mine wants to breed you.”

She bit her lip. “The same biology that kept you from killing me in the first place, right? The same biological urges that are making you take care of me until you can get me someplace else—where I’ll be someone else’s problem.”

He frowned. “You don’t have to put it like that.”

Emily lifted her chin. “Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Tragar sighed heavily. “I suppose, yes. Listen, we need to stop your flow but if you’d rather take a moment to move somewhere else, to get into another position so we’re not touching quite so intimately—”

“No, I guess not.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “I mean…unless you want to? Unless it bothers you to have me, uh, pressing against you?”

“Emily,” he said, wishing his voice wouldn’t come out quite so hoarse. “Having your lush, beautiful body pressed against me is a great pleasure. I don’t mind it in the least, I swear to you.”

“Well then…” She settled gingerly back onto his lap. “I, uh, don’t mind either. And your leather pants actually feel good against my behind.”

“Are you still very sore?” He felt remorse again as he remembered whipping her with his belt.

“The cloth you used on me really helped.” She shifted around experimentally, causing him to bite back another groan. “I actually feel pretty good.”

“I’m glad.” Tragar took a deep breath. “All right, then it’s time we stopped your nectar.”

“Okay, yes I guess you’re right.” She also took a deep breath. “Anyway, if you don’t stop it soon, my nightgown will be ruined. Not that it isn’t already.” She looked down at her front and Tragar wished he could see it too. The sight of her full, pink nipples thrusting out of the ragged holes in the silky blue fabric was distractingly erotic. But he had her positioned in his lap so he could reach around her and hold her in his arms as he pinched her peaks.

“We will get you new garments when we go to see my old master,” he murmured, pulling her back into his lap. “Until then, what you have on will have to do. Are you ready?”

“Y-yes…” She still sounded hesitant but Tragar couldn’t help that. They had talked long enough—it was time to stop the flow of nectar before it really got going.

“Lean back against me and relax,” he murmured in the little pink shell of her ear. “Don’t feel any shame for the pleasure you feel when I touch you—just let it wash over you—don’t fight it.” As he spoke, he palmed her full breasts through the night garment, feeling their soft weight in his hands and running his thumbs gently over her nipples, now sticky with the sweet nectar.

“Ohhhh…” A long sigh fell out of her and he felt her arch her back, pressing her breasts into his hands. “All…all right,” she whispered as he continued to stroke her tight nubs. “I’ll try.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, taking her ripe peaks between his fingers. “Good girl, Emily. Just relax now.” He normally would never have spoken so to a Khalla but at the moment she needed to be treated with tenderness and comfort, he sensed—not as a Khalla coming into her own but as an uncertain female feeling her way towards a new existence.

Emily sighed and relaxed against him, letting him know his instincts were right. Her thighs, which had been pressed tightly together, drifted apart just a little, allowing the warm, feminine scent of her desire to fill his senses. Gods, she was beautiful! Tragar had no idea what he had done to deserve holding her in his arms but he swore to himself he would see to it she was well taken care of no matter what it cost him.

Gently but firmly, he applied pressure, squeezing her ripe, pink nipples between his fingers to stem the flow of her nectar.

The effect on the female in his arms was electric. Emily moaned and bucked against him, her breathing ragged and short. She reached for him and her hands found his knees—grasping desperately for something to hold on to. He could smell her scent increasing—going from warm to incredibly hot and needy in a bare moment.

“Oh…oh God,” she moaned as he continued to squeeze her.

“It’s all right, Emily,” he growled hoarsely in her ear. “It’s all right—let the pleasure flow through you. Accept it.”

* * * * *

“I…I’m trying.” Emily was breathing in longer gasps now, trying to get back some control. He was still squeezing her nipples tightly but at least the hard, fast orgasm that had rushed through her seemed to have faded to a pleasurable ache. “I…I think I’m okay now. It still feels good but I’m not…I mean…”

The big Kindred seemed to know what she meant.

“You’re not coming any more?” he rumbled.

Emily could feel her face getting hot.

“No, I…I did but I’m, uh, not anymore. Even though you’re still…” She nodded down at his big hands, still cupping her breasts as he applied steady pressure to her nipples. “God it’s so embarrassing to admit that I…what happened.”

“You don’t need to feel shame around me—I told you that,” he growled softly.

“I don’t as much as I did,” Emily murmured, daring to turn her head and look at him. “I guess between you saving my life and the spanking and the crying and telling you secrets I’ve never told anyone else and…well, everything else we’ve been doing, I guess I sort of feel…like I know you.” She shrugged. “That probably sounds weird, especially since you’re only helping me because you have to.”

“It’s natural for you to feel a connection,” he said neutrally. “I am, after all, the only one of your species you’ve met before and like calls to like.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Unless you’ve met and talked to other Beast Kindred since the Kindred started calling brides from Earth?”

Emily shook her head. “No, never. I mean, I went down to the HKR building and registered for the draft, same as everyone else but I never even spoke a single word to one of your people until now.”

“Your people too,” he corrected gently.

Emily sighed.

“I just…I still don’t understand how it’s possible. I mean, I did just find out I’m adopted but how in the world I wound up on Earth if I’m really somehow Kindred…it’s just too weird.”

“I do not understand it either but I wish you could have found out sooner,” Tragar said in a low voice. “Before you were hurt by that bastard. I hope…” He cleared his throat. “I hope the way I have been touching you hasn’t brought back bad memories. I know that females who have been attacked in such a way often have a hard time allowing another male to touch them—even one who is trying to be gentle.”

Emily gave him a small, trembling smile.

“I’m actually feeling better about that than I have in years. I guess…I guess it helped to talk about it. And, uh, thank you for not blaming me. I was sure after everything Grayson said, anyone I told would see what happened as my fault.”

“The only blame was his,” Tragar murmured. “You should have let me kill him.” His voice was gentle but chillingly cold. It gave Emily a shiver and she remembered again that he was a trained assassin—he killed people for a living. She would probably do well to consider that before she started feeling all warm and fuzzy about him.

“I sort of wish I had let you kill him,” she said with a broken little laugh. “Only, how would I ever go back to my old life and job with that hanging over my head?”

He frowned. “Are you truly expecting to do that? To go back to Earth after you finish your Tenrah?”

Emily frowned.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well…” He shrugged. “You will be completely changed for one thing. You will look more like my kind—our kind—than any of your Earth counterparts.”

“You mean…the gold eyes and black hair will be permanent?”

He nodded. “In all probability you will grow taller as well.”

“What? You’re saying I’m going to turn into some kind of Amazon who looks completely different from how I do now?” she demanded. It was just like her nightmare—the one where the other took over completely.

“I do not know what an Amazon is but—”

“How will anyone know me? My family—what will they think? And what will they say at work?” She sighed. “Well, work is probably a non-issue. I’m sure after whatever lies Grayson spreads about me—”

“He will say nothing,” Tragar interrupted, frowning. “I warned him that if he spoke ill of you as he was threatening to do I would come back and break his neck as well as his hand.”

“You broke his hand?” Emily looked at him with wide eyes.

He shrugged. “You wouldn’t let me break his spine.”

“But—”

“I made sure it was his dominant hand. He will never touch an unwilling female with it again.” His golden eyes narrowed. “In fact, he may never do anything with it again. I crushed the bones to fragments—it would probably be easier for surgeons to attach a new hand rather than fix that one.”

“I don’t…think we quite have the technology to grow a whole new hand yet,” Emily whispered.

Tragar shrugged again.

“Then he will have to learn to sign his name with his left hand. And he will have severe pain for the rest of his life.” He frowned at her. “Are you sorry for what I did? I am not.”

“No.” She lifted her chin. “No, I’m not—not a bit.”

“Good,” he growled. “Some punishments are well deserved.”

“But if he really does keep his mouth shut that means I could go back to work. I mean, if they’ll have me.” She frowned. “Which they certainly won’t if I show up looking like a completely different person.”

“You will be a completely different person once your personality merges with that of your Kit’tara.”

“I don’t want to merge with her! How many times do I have to tell you that? I just want to go back to normal!” Emily shifted uncomfortably, aware that he was still pinching her nipples tightly. “Look, has it been enough time yet? I’d really like to get up.”

“Let’s see if your nectar has stopped.” The big Kindred released his hold on her and Emily peered down anxiously, hoping against hope. To her immense relief, she saw that there was nothing coming from her nipples now.

“I’m all good,” she said, hopping off his lap. “It worked—see?” She turned to face him.

“I see…I see very well indeed.” There was a hunger blazing in his golden eyes as they traveled over her body, centering on her naked nipples which were now very red from his pinching.

“Um…” Emily didn’t know what to say. She felt suddenly tongue tied and embarrassed. While she’d been sitting on his lap and talking, what they were doing had almost begun to seem normal. Now that she was up and away from him, it didn’t seem right at all.

Because it’s not normal, whispered a little voice in her head. Not right at all to let a man you’ve barely known for twenty-four hours touch you and lick you and pinch you and hold you.

But it wasn’t what they’d done that bothered her so much—it was the fact that she wanted to let him do more…so much more. Her entire body yearned towards him but she knew it was wrong. Tragar was a hired killer, only helping her because he had no choice, at least to hear him tell it. She shouldn’t want to get close to such a man, to give herself so unashamedly…unreservedly…

“Emily,” he said quietly, his deep voice calmer than his eyes. “Forgive me if I upset you just now. I know how you feel about your Kit’tara. I just wish you could understand that she is a part of you. Maybe when you talk to my old master he can make you understand.”

“The only thing I want to understand is how to make it stop.” Emily lifted her chin. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a shower. I’m all…uh, sticky.”

“Very well.” He nodded. “We’ll be in orbit around my old master’s home world very soon. Please let me know if you need me to help you again.”

Emily bit her lip. “You mean let you know if I start, uh, leaking again.”

He nodded. “I know you find it embarrassing but it’s very important. I wouldn’t ask you otherwise.”

“Fine,” Emily whispered. “I…I’ll let you know.” Then she turned and fled down the metal hallway, hoping like hell that her throbbing nipples would behave until they could get to their destination and hopefully find some help.

Chapter Thirteen

“Trin, I need to talk to you.”

“Hmm?” Having recently gotten a shot of translation bacteria, Trin was curled up on the couch, deeply engrossed in what her new friends aboard the Mother Ship called a “romance novel.” The plots were often unbelievable but the relationship between the characters was fascinating and more than made up for it. Also, the sex in the more erotic books could be extremely hot. She told herself she was just reading the books to learn Earth customs and mores but honestly, she could hardly put down the one she was currently devouring.

“Trin?” he asked again.

“What is it?” She looked up to see her man looking very serious indeed. He had something clutched in his big hand but she couldn’t see what it was. “What is it?” she repeated, putting down the book. “What’s wrong, Thrace?” Because clearly, something was—very wrong or he wouldn’t be looking at her like that.

“It’s about our bond.” He came to her, looking so grave that Trin felt a cold shiver of fear go through her.

“What about our bond? Is it okay? I thought we renewed it.”

They had bonded on her ship and re-bonded after the difficult time she’d spent on her home planet at the Temple of the Goddess of Judgment. Trin’s planet, Zetta Prime, was an all female one where having sexual relations with a male was considered crude and disgusting. Females wishing to have children went to Conception centers and chose from the many different types of compatible sperm there. Most of the Daughter of Zetta, as they called themselves, had never even seen a male and almost none of them would consider having sex with one—let alone forming a permanent soul bond.

Yet, that was exactly what Trin had done and she wasn’t sorry for it a bit. In fact, she was convinced that she had found her soul mate when she found Thrace—though it had taken her a while to see it that way. To begin with, she’d only bought him as a slave to bolster her image when she traded with the high society of Yonnie Six, another female dominated planet. But then things had changed.

Thrace had been resistant to the idea of being her slave at first—and no wonder. She’d later learned that it wasn’t the first time he’d been captured and sold at the Flesh Bazaar, where she had first found him. He had gone through three horrific years of slavery and abuse when he was just sixteen cycles old. Only when he’d finally gotten his full strength and size, had he been able to break free and kill his old master in order to escape.

Playing Mistress and slave in order to trade on Yonnie Six, had cemented their relationship, however. As they grew closer, Thrace had been more than willing to wear the leather collar she put on him and call her “Mistress.” That had been before her time at the temple, though. Ever since he’d rescued her and brought her back to the Kindred Mother Ship to heal, they had been on a much more even footing, having what Trin was pretty sure her friends considered a “normal” relationship. Or as it was referred to in some of her new reading material, “vanilla.”

“What is it?” she asked again, since he was silent. This time she used the mind-link that they had developed when they bonded. It allowed for greater intimacy and honesty—it was nearly impossible to lie through the link.

“I have something to ask you. No, something to tell you,” he answered in the same way, looking into her eyes. “But I don’t know where to start.”

“You said it had to do with our bond—start there,” Trin suggested.

“All right…” He sank down on the couch beside her. “But what I have to say…you might not want to hear.”

Her heart began to beat fast but she tried to keep a calm look on her face.

“Whatever it is, I can handle it. We can handle it together.”

He stroked her cheek and looked intently into her eyes for a moment, as though making sure she meant it. Then he nodded and began to speak aloud.

“You know that Havoc males don’t usually rear their own young until the age of six cycles,” he began and Trin’s heart gave another lurch.

“You said if I got pregnant you’d stay with me,” she reminded him, trying not to feel panicky. “That you’d help raise the child.”

“And so I will. But it’s not if you get pregnant, baby—it’s when,” he said softly, squeezing her hands. “We know it’s going to happen eventually.” Which was true. According to a foretelling, Trin was supposed to carry a son who would be the father of a new race of Kindred, one that included both Havoc and human blood in the genetic mix. Since she herself was half human—her mother had chosen sperm from Earth to make her—it worked out perfectly. Or it would sometime in the future, anyway.

“All right, yes, we know that,” she said steadily. “But what are you trying to tell me?”

Thrace sighed and ran a hand through his thick blue-black hair.

“Well, there’s a reason that Havoc males donate their seed and have their sons born from artificial wombs.”

“Because most of them refuse to bond with females, right?” Trin asked. Oh Goddess, was he regretting bonding with her now?

“Of course I’m not, baby.” He squeezed her hands again and she realized her worry must have come through their link clearly. “Just give me a minute to try and get this out—I swear nothing I’m telling you has anything to do with me leaving you.”

“All right.” Trin squeezed back, feeling better. Since the awful time she’d spent at the temple on her home planet she needed a little more reassurance and comfort than she had in the past—which Thrace was more than happy to give. “Go on,” she said. “If it’s not their aversion to bonding then what is it? Why are all Havoc born from artificial wombs?”

“Because not many females can survive carrying a Havoc fetus to term,” he said in a low voice. “They are incredibly strong, almost from the moment of conception, and very difficult for any female to carry. It’s a long and painful process and by the fourth quadmester, the female is often black and blue, bruised from the inside out by the baby’s kicking.”

Trin looked at him uncertainly.

“That… doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“It’s not just that,” Thrace said grimly. “The birth itself is often filled with complications. Many females died during it. Also the infant mortality rate is very high—almost fifty percent.”

“Fifty percent?” Trin couldn’t believe it. “Only half the babies survive? Really?”

He nodded. “Some think it’s because of the Havoc genetic make-up. Our creator—who as you know was a Kindred himself—wanted to be certain we wouldn’t want to stay with a woman long enough to impregnate her.” He put his big hand on Trin’s flat belly. “But of course I want to stay with you and have a baby. You know that.”

“I want that too—but how can we?” Trin asked. “It really sounds like the odds are against us.”

“They don’t have to be. There is a way we can bring them back in our favor.” He looked at her earnestly. “It’s called a Deep Bonding and it’s something only Havoc are capable of—not even the Kindred have the ability.”

“A Deep Bonding?” Trin frowned. “What is it? How does it work?”

“If we do it, I’ll be able to give you some of my strength—not for everyday use—you won’t become stronger than all the other females on the ship,” he said quickly, correctly interpreting her uncertain look. “It’s more like a reserve of energy you can call on. It will help you withstand a pregnancy with my child much better.”

“That sounds really good…but I can feel that there’s something about it you think will bother me.” Trin frowned, trying to read the emotions she could faintly sense coming through their link. “What is it?”

Thrace sighed. “It will bind us even more tightly together, so much so that I won’t be able to survive without you. Our lives will be linked—you will be able to survive my death but I won’t live through yours. If you die, I’ll die as well.”

“Oh, Thrace…” Trin was already shaking her head. “I don’t like that! What if something happens? An accident or some awful illness? I’ve already stolen a big chunk of your life when we bonded in the regular way.”

“Not true.” He shook his head firmly. “You only took a little. Essentially, you lengthened your own lifespan to match mine. Listen, Trin…” He looked into her eyes intently. “Please don’t let the life-link part of it put you off. I love you and I honestly don’t want to live without you. If you died in childbirth, I wouldn’t want to go on.”

“Well…” Trin tried to think objectively about it. On the one hand, they would be taking a big risk doing this. She was basically gambling that nothing bad would ever happen to her—that she would live a long life with no complications. And she was betting the highest stakes there were—the life of the man she loved and couldn’t live without.

Thrace clearly heard what she was thinking.

“We all gamble when we let ourselves fall in love, baby,” he murmured. “That’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” Trin protested. She narrowed her eyes and looked at him. “But that’s not the only reason you’re worried I won’t like this idea—this ‘Deep Bonding’—is it?”

The big Havoc sighed and rose off the couch, suddenly. He began to pace restlessly in front of her, his hand behind his back. There was still something clutched tight in his big fist but Trin couldn’t see what it was.

“No,” he said at last. “There is…another reason. It has to do with the way the Deep Bonding is achieved.”

“How is it done?” Trin looked at him, mystified.

“Do you remember the dream you shared with me? The one I had after breathing the nightmare fumes at Lady Tam-Tam’s estate?”

“Of course I do!” Trin shivered. “It was awful.” The dream she’d had was of Thrace’s old master trying to force him to give his loyalty and submit willingly to his sexual advances. Thrace had never budged, refusing to say the words of submission or to give himself willingly. It hadn’t mattered though—his master had taken him anyway in a manner brutal enough to turn Trin’s stomach. She still ached for Thrace when she thought of it—ached for the pain and horror he’d been through.

“There was a reason my old master was trying to get me to say the words—to submit willingly while he…” Thrace swallowed hard and his broad shoulders were stiff. “While he took me. He knew, you see, about the Havoc’s ability to make a life-link with the Deep Bond. He knew if he could achieve that with me, he would double his own lifespan and gain the perfect bodyguard at the same time. Because in order to live myself, I would have had to keep him alive too, no matter what.”

“You would have been tied to him forever—how awful!” Trin’s eyes widened.

“Which is why I never gave in,” Thrace said grimly. “I knew I couldn’t kill him if I did and I wanted vengeance for my Sire…as well as for myself.”

“He deserved everything he got,” Trin assured him. She knew what had happened of course—how Thrace had finally gotten free and ripped out his master’s throat with his teeth. But after everything he’d been through at the sadistic man’s hands, it was perfectly understandable.

Then the deeper implications of what Thrace was saying began to sink in.

“Wait a minute…” She held up a hand. “So you’re saying the only way to achieve this Deep Bond is for…”

“For me to submit to you again…Mistress.” Thrace sank down beside her on the couch and finally opened his hand, showing what he had been clutching so tightly this entire time. Trin bit her lip when she saw the black leather collar studded with pale silvery-blue Lathian Sapphires which almost exactly matched Thrace’s eyes.

If she was honest with herself, she had to admit she sort of missed their Mistress-slave dynamic a little bit. Not because she wanted Thrace groveling at her feet—she didn’t. But because she felt so cared for and protected when he was in his watchful “slave” mode. Also, the big Havoc had a way of switching from submissive slave to gentle dominant just when she needed it most. One moment he was calling her “Mistress” and begging to pay obeisance to her nipples and pussy and the next she was “baby” and he was cradling her close and looking deep into her eyes while he thrust hard and long inside her.

But during their time apart, before the re-bonding, as she thought of it, Thrace had taken off the slave collar and had not put it on again. Trin hadn’t mentioned it. She was certain if he wanted to wear it, he would. And now, here he was, holding it out to her. But exactly what would be involved in putting it on him again?

“Submit to me how exactly?” she asked, looking up at him. “Do I just have to put the collar on you while you say the words again?”

Slowly, he shook his head.

“I’m afraid there’s more to it than that. I have to submit to you sexually as well. The emotional heights reached during penetration are the only ones strong enough to achieve a Deep Bonding.”

“So…what do you want me to do?” For some reason, Trin’s heart was in her throat. Surely he didn’t mean he wanted her to…to…She couldn’t even finish the thought.

Thrace rose again for a moment and left the room. When he came back and sat beside her again, he was holding a familiar, light-blue velvet bag. Mutely, he handed it to her.

With trembling hands, Trin opened it and pulled out the heart’s-blood phallus she had been given on Yonnie Six. She stared at the familiar shape, emotions she couldn’t name swirling within her. One end was smooth and gold with fine markings drawn in red and white on its shiny surface. The other end, however, was all business. It was thicker than Trin’s wrist and deep scarlet, made of some shiny material as dark as blood. She knew that the dark end was supposed to fit inside her while she penetrated her slave with the slim, golden end.

My slave…Thrace…But I can’t do that! Can’t hurt him like that again!

“No!” Trin was on her feet and pushing the phallus away from her before she knew what she was doing. “No!” she said again, looking at Thrace. “I won’t do that to you—I won’t.”

“You have to, Mistress—it’s the only way to form the Deep Bond.” He looked up at her patiently.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Trin said, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “Not like that! Remember what happened last time?”

They had tried this once before on Yonnie Six due to the fact that Lady Tam-tam, their sadistic hostess, had been trying to blackmail them. She had ordered that one of them must penetrate the other while she watched from the spy network in her large mansion. Since Trin’s religious beliefs had conflicted so completely with this—letting a male penetrate her would have been a slap in the face of the goddess she served—Thrace had volunteered to let her penetrate him instead.

But the stress of it had been too much. It had brought back the horrors of his past and though he had been willing to allow it, Trin had sensed such submission was painful and abhorrent to him. She had stopped before actually doing the deed when Thrace had admitted his painful past. The tale had been too awful for Trin to take in—she had run from him, blindly and they hadn’t discussed it again until after they came together on the Mother Ship.

And now he wanted her to do it to him again—to follow through this time. But she couldn’t do that—she couldn’t.

The look on his face when he told me the dream was no dream—that everything I saw in that nightmare really happened to him…

She shook her head again. “I can’t Thrace—please don’t ask me to do that to you! Please!”

“But I do have to ask you. It will be different this time. Listen…” Thrace took her hands and drew her back down on the couch. “I think I know what bothered me last time,” he told her softly. “It was the position. You were trying to take me from behind which was…” He took a deep breath. “Which was the way my old master always took me. I think if we’re face-to-face so I can look into your lovely, dark eyes and know it’s you taking me, not him, well…” He smiled at her. “I should be fine…Mistress.”

“Please, Thrace, don’t make me do this to you—don’t ask me to penetrate you like that,” she whispered.

He cupped her face in his big hands and looked at her seriously.

“But you allow me to penetrate you. And that was once an idea that was disgusting and unthinkable to you.”

“That’s different,” Trin protested. “No one had ever…abused me before. I didn’t have any bad memories to get over.”

“I do have some bad memories in my past,” he admitted. “But now I’d like to make some new ones—with you.”

“But—”

Before she could start to protest again he placed a finger over her lips.

“We have the link now,” he growled softly, referring to the mental bond they shared. “You’ll know right away if things turn bad—I won’t be able to help letting you know. And if it gets too intense we’ll stop—I swear it.”

Trin looked at him wide-eyed, trying to make up her mind. She could tell that he really did want to do this—his sincerity came through their mind-link clearly.

“As clearly as my distress would come through if what I’m asking you to do didn’t work,” he murmured through the link, his mental voice every bit as low and growly as his speaking voice. “I want the Deep Bonding with you—want to know you’re safe when you carry my son in your womb.” He stroked her cheek with his knuckles, looking intently into her eyes. “Please, Trin—I love you or I wouldn’t ask this of you. I want you to be protected.”

Trin wasn’t sure what it was that tipped her decision—maybe it was the look in his silvery-blue eyes or the soft pleading in his tone. But somehow she found herself nodding.

“All right,” she said at last. “We…we can try. But if things go badly—if they even start to go bad—we’ll stop. Immediately.”

Thrace nodded gravely. “You have my word, baby. Or should I say…Mistress?” He knelt in front of her and held out the collar again. “Would you put it on me?” His deep voice was slightly hoarse. “I’ve missed wearing it—missed having a visual reminder that I belong to you.”

“You’ll always belong to me…the same way I’ll always belong to you,” Trin murmured. Leaning forward, she fastened the black leather band with its silvery-blue stones around his strong neck. Her hands trembled only a little. “Now what?” she murmured, sitting back. “How do you want me to, uh, get you ready for this?”

“By letting me get you ready.” He stood gracefully and picked her up off the couch as though she weighed no more than a pillow.

“Thrace!” Trin protested, half laughing. His strength always amazed her. “Too bad I won’t be getting some of this for everyday use,” she remarked, stroking one bulging bicep as he carried her into the bedroom. “I could use it to lift furniture if I lose something under the couch.”

Thrace flashed her a grin. “You’ll have it when you need it—after I plant my seed in your sweet little belly, Mistress.”

Trin shivered with illicit pleasure at the idea of him making her pregnant. She knew anyone else on her home planet would find the idea of impregnation by a male unspeakably wrong. And until recently, she had felt that way herself. Though she had changed her mind completely, the act of letting him penetrate her and come deep in her pussy still felt forbidden…and very, very hot.

“Thrace,” she murmured as he deposited her gently on their large bed. “When we do this, do I have to uh, penetrate you until you, you know, come? Or can we switch it up, halfway through?”

“I simply have to submit to you completely while you stroke within me,” he murmured. “After that, if you’d like I can penetrate you.”

“Yes…” She felt another shiver of desire at the idea. “Yes, I’d like that a lot.”

“Then let’s get started, Mistress.” He was already taking off her clothes. She had on a simple garment called a “sundress” which had short sleeves and a skirt that went just to her knees, leaving her arms and legs mostly bare. It was a far cry from the clothes she’d been used to wearing—her black jumpsuit and boots—but Trin liked it all the same. It was comfortable and the pale cream color contrasted nicely with her light brown skin.

“Gods, you look beautiful in this little nothing of a garment,” Thrace murmured through their link as he peeled the top of the sundress down, revealing her breasts. Trin hadn’t bothered to wear anything under it as she had only planned to stay home reading that day.

“I’m glad you like it,” she sent back breathlessly.

“I like you best in your naked skin,” he growled, his eyes flashing as he peeled the dress completely away and let it drop to the floor beside the bed. “Mmm—no panties either. Why, Mistress, what were you doing while you were reading that book of yours earlier? Were you touching yourself when you got to the good parts?”

“Thrace!” she protested, feeling her cheeks heat with a blush. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t actually been touching herself but she did like feeling bare under the flirty little dress while she read the “good parts” as Thrace called them. It made her feel hot and naughty.

“Mmm-hmm, I thought so.” He leaned forward and took her mouth in a deep, tantalizing kiss that promised so much more.

Trin moaned and kissed him back, giving in to the pleasure of his hot mouth completely. Goddess, she loved the feel of his strong body against hers! His muscles were like warm, flexible steel. She never felt so safe as when she was enclosed in his arms.

Now she was completely naked while Thrace was still wearing his black flight leathers and an ice-blue shirt that looked amazing with his eyes.

“Wait…wait a minute,” she protested breathlessly when the kiss finally broke. “I thought I was supposed to be in charge. Isn’t the mistress supposed to be dressed while her slave is naked?”

“Only if she doesn’t want her slave to pay obeisance to her,” he murmured, smiling. “Mistress, will you allow me to pay obeisance to your sweet nipples?”

His low words and the hungry way he was looking at her made Trin’s pussy feel hot and wet and swollen. Goddess, this was how it had been back at Lady Tam-tam’s, when they were still just pretending to be together. She’d been very nervous about letting Thrace put his mouth on her most intimate spots but he’d proven he could do it with gentleness and utmost respect, which had allowed her to let him in more than she ever would have believed possible.

“Yes,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed and thrusting her naked breasts out for him. “Yes, you may, slave.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Thrace slid off the side of the bed and sank to his knees before her, bringing her closer to his mouth. Obligingly, Trin pushed her breasts further out, her nipples like dark, ripe berries just begging to be sucked.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” Thrace’s mental voice sounded slightly hoarse. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you, baby.”

“Mistress,” she corrected him with a little smile. Although she knew well enough that she’d be “baby” later when it was his turn to penetrate her and fill her with his seed.

“Mmm, and I can’t wait to do that. But we have a few other things to do first.”

Leaning forward, he captured one tight bud between his lips. He was gentle at first, barely touching her as he kissed the rigid little point. It reminded Trin of the way he had first “paid obeisance” to her breasts back on Yonnie Six. Then, his eyes fixed on hers, he sucked her deeply into his mouth, pulling at the tender peak until she moaned and buried her fingers in his hair.

“Oh Goddess…Thrace!” she gasped as he switched to the second nipple and treated it the same way.

“Do you like that, Mistress?” he asked through their link while still driving her wild. “Do you like it when I pay obeisance to your sweet breasts?”

“You know I do!” Trin sent back, still moaning.

“Then may I also pay obeisance to your pussy?” He looked up at her, his eyes blazing. “May I spread your plump little cunt lips wide and worship your clit with my tongue?”

In answer, Trin lay back against the bed and let her knees drift apart. This was another act which had caused her much shame and guilt once upon a time. Now she loved it—loved the feeling of her man’s hot mouth on her most intimate and secret spot and the feeling of his tongue buried deep in her cleft.

“Gods, you have such a gorgeous little pussy,” Thrace growled softly. He was still on his knees before her and his big, warm hands caressed her inner thighs as he spoke. “So hot and wet and swollen. You need to be kissed, don’t you, Mistress? Kissed and licked and sucked.”

“Y-yes,” Trin half moaned as she felt his hot breath blowing across her sensitive flesh. She couldn’t help remembering the first time he had “paid obeisance” to her pussy. She’d been so reluctant to let him, feeling that it would be wrong to let a male put his lips to such a private area. But Thrace had convinced her he could simply kiss her and show his reverence for her pussy without penetrating her. That was the first time Trin had allowed his mouth on her there—but not the last. Since then she had come to realize that this was one of his favorite acts—he genuinely loved the way she tasted and the way she couldn’t help moaning when he kissed and tasted her.

“Of course I love the way you moan when I kiss you,” Thrace told her as he leaned forward. He placed a sweet, open-mouthed kiss on her swollen outer pussy lips, making her jump and give a breathless little gasp. Then he spent several long minutes tracing her slit with his tongue, making her clench her hands into fists as she tried to hold still while he licked her. “And I especially like the way you make those hot little cries when I spread your pussy and taste your creamy little cunt.”

“Then do it!” Trin gasped as he spread her with thumbs, exposing her inner folds.

“Gods, look how wet you are,” he groaned softly. “So soft and wet and open—Mistress it will be my pleasure to taste your sweet juices.”

“Oh…Oh, Thrace,” Trin gasped, gripping the bedspread on either side of her. Goddess, he was driving her crazy.

“You drive me crazy too…the way you look so hot and wet, the way you move when I taste you…the way you smell with that hot feminine scent…Goddess, can’t hold back anymore, Mistress. Have to taste you fully now.”

Bending his head, he took a long, slow lick that started at the bottom of her slit and went all the way to the top of her cleft. Trin moaned, her hips twitching as his hot tongue dragged over her aching clit. Then he did it again, and again while she bucked up to meet him, tasting her thoroughly as though determined to get every last drop of her honey.

She was gripping the bedspread with one hand but she needed to hold on to something with the other. Somehow her hand found his and their fingers intertwined. Trin squeezed hard and felt his answering pressure as he continued to bathe her pussy with his hot tongue.

“That’s right, Mistress,” she heard him growl softly in her head. “Hold on to me. Hold on and let me taste your sweet pussy.”

“Oh…oh, Thrace I’m already close…so close,” she moaned, her back arching as she gave herself to him completely.

“Then you’re ready.”

Never stopping the long, slow licking that was driving her insane, he reached for the heart’s blood phallus and pressed the dark red end against the entrance to her pussy.

Trin gasped a little at the shock of it and started to close her legs. Thrace looked up and caught her eyes before giving a minute shake of his head.

“No, Mistress—you need to wear this. All right?”

“I…all right.” Trin could hear the hesitation in her own mental voice and she tried to make it stronger. “All right,” she sent again. “Do it, Thrace—I trust you.”

“I am honored by your trust, Mistress.”

Still lapping gently at her wet, open folds, he pressed the heart’s blood phallus slowly inside her. Trin bit her lip to hold back a moan as it stretched her inner walls. Of course, it wasn’t nearly as big as Thrace’s shaft but still it felt alien inside her—subtly wrong somehow.

“It feels like that because it’s not me,” Thrace assured her, still licking and kissing her gently. “But remember, it’s going to connect us in a moment. It will join us together intimately.”

“And…you’re sure you’re all right with this? You still want to do it?” she sent as he seated the thick phallus completely inside her, to the hilt.

“Never been more sure of anything in my life,” Thrace promised her. He placed another soft kiss on her throbbing clit and looked up at her. “Are you ready?” he asked aloud.

“Are you?” Trin demanded in a slightly shaky voice.

In answer, he got off his knees and began to strip. Trin watched with a pounding heart as his naked, muscular body was revealed. Goddess, he was a work of art—all hard angles and lines and thick, supple musculature. His cock was hard, probably from tasting her, thrusting out from between his thighs. Her eyes fastened to the thick shaft and she couldn’t look away. Goddess, she wanted him so much. Wanted to feel him in her.

“I want to feel you in me too,” he murmured through their link.

Trin looked at him uncertainly. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really. I…” He cleared his throat. “I want to submit to you—want to give myself completely the way you give yourself to me when you allow me to open you with my shaft.”

“Oh, Thrace…” She was sitting up now, looking at him. Hesitantly she reached out a hand to cup his rough cheek.

“I love you, Mistress,” he murmured hoarsely and planted a soft kiss in the middle of her palm. Then he climbed onto the bed with her. Going to the head of the bed, he propped up the pillows and half sat, half lay against them.

Trin knew what that meant—it was time. She crawled on her hands and knees towards him, excruciatingly aware of how the heart’s-blood phallus was shifting within her with every movement. There were no straps to hold it on but none were needed. One of the properties of the heart’s blood was that it was made of an intuitive material—it wouldn’t leave her until she was ready for it to.

Thrace’s eyes seemed to be glued to the phallus as she moved. At first, Trin wondered if he had changed his mind.

“No, Mistress—I haven’t changed my mind about opening to you.”

In a final gesture of submission, he spread his legs for her, welcoming her in.

Trin had a sudden thought.

“We need some lube—something to ease the way.”

“Already taken care of,” Thrace assured her in a low growl. “I wanted to be completely ready when the time came. So just do it, Mistress—just take me.”

“I…” Trin got into position between his legs but she still wasn’t sure. There was so much in the past that should have made this act of sacrifice on his part impossible…so much pain and hurt and betrayal.

But Thrace seemed calm—at least outwardly. He simply kept his eyes trained on her and nodded slowly as she pressed the golden tip of the phallus to his nether entrance.

Trin was poised at the point of no return and she knew it. With one swift thrust, she could be inside him to the hilt, tying the two of them together closer than ever before…Or maybe tearing the two of you apart, whispered a cautious little voice in her brain. How do you know? How can you know until it’s too late?

“Trin…Mistress…” Thrace’s deep voice pulled her out of her worried contemplation. She looked up to meet his eyes and saw nothing but love there.

“Thrace,” she whispered, looking at him earnestly. “Thrace I don’t want to hurt you. Are you sure? Are you really sure?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Yes, Mistress,” he rumbled, holding her eyes with his. “Anything for you. Even this. Especially this. Take me—please.”

Biting her lip, Trin did as he said. Using her hips, she thrust slowly forward, sliding the golden end of the double-headed phallus deep inside him. Then she waited to see the result.

For a moment—a long moment—Thrace closed his eyes. He took some long, slow, deep breaths and Trin heard him mutter under his breath, “Not the Master. It’s Trin…it’s all right because it’s Trin.”

“Thrace?” she whispered uncertainly. “Thrace, I can pull out if you need me to. If you want just say so.”

At last he opened his eyes.

“Mistress,” he said, his voice coming out low and hoarse with emotion. “I…I submit to you and offer my neck for your collar. I will serve you until I die or until you set me free.”

“Oh, Thrace…” Trin reached out to stroke his cheek. The movement thrust the golden end of the phallus deeper into his body and the heart’s-blood end deeper into her pussy. They both groaned and Trin saw his long, thick cock twitch and a droplet of precum appeared on its broad tip.

She stared at it in wonder as she reached to take the thick, pulsing shaft in her hand. It felt hot and velvety in her palm and Thrace gave a low groan as she stroked him from root to tip. Was it possible that he wasn’t just enduring this? That it was actually turning him on?

“Of course it’s fucking turning me on—it’s you inside me. Or as close as we can get anyway,” he murmured through their link.

Experimentally, Trin pulled out an inch or two and thrust in again, making him gasp and lift his hips to meet her as she stroked his shaft again.

“That’s right,” he growled, looking up at her, his silver-blue eyes blazing. “That’s right, Mistress—do it again. Fuck me. Fuck me while I say the words.”

“All right.” Biting her lip hard, Trin pulled back and thrust into him again…and again…and again. Now that she knew he was really all right with this, she could feel her own pleasure beginning to grow again. There was a broad golden disk between the two halves of the phallus which was studded with little nubs. With each thrust, they rubbed hard against the tender button of her clit, stimulating her as she moved. She moaned breathlessly as jolt after jolt of pleasure went through her and Thrace answered her with low cries of his own as she continued to stroke his shaft.

“Mistress,” he gasped, looking into her eyes as Trin moved within him. “I will belong to you body and soul. I will protect you with my life…shield you from harm in times of danger, and…and pleasure you in times of peace.”

“Oh, Thrace,” she moaned, stroking him harder even as she speeded up her tempo. “Oh, Goddess…”

But he wasn’t quite done yet. His eyes seemed to be nothing but silver fire as he said the last words.

“Mistress,” he groaned, “To the last drop of my blood, I…am…yours.”

Trin gave a final thrust and felt the pleasure that had been building inside her peak. But it wasn’t just pleasure—there was a profound sense of oneness—a feeling that came through the link she shared with the big Havoc and seemed to consume her completely.

Together, she thought. We’ll always be together now. Nothing can separate us. We’re one.

“We’re one,” she heard him echoing her thought. “The Deep Bonding has occurred. We are one.”

“Oh Goddess, Thrace, I love you!” With a low moan, she pressed the phallus as hard as she could inside him and held it there, allowing the intense waves of sensation to wash over her as she clung to him, like a drowning woman might cling to a solid rock to keep from being swept out to sea. Thrace held her tight as they rode out her orgasm together, stroking her back and murmuring how much he loved her, how right it felt to give himself this way.

At last the intense orgasm was over and she was able to pull out of him, removing the heart’s blood phallus from his body though it was still nested snugly inside her own. Panting, she tried to regain her composure.

“Goddess,” she whispered weakly. “That was…I didn’t know it could be like that!”

“There’s another way it can be,” he growled softly.

“Is that so?” She arched an eyebrow at him.

“Mm-hmm, that’s fucking so.” His eyes were blazing and before she knew it, Thrace had flipped her over on her back so their positions were reversed.

“Hello, baby,” he murmured, looming over her in a way that was both familiar and still just a little frightening. Enough to send a sweet, tingling chill down her spine anyway. A male…there’s a male on top of you…about to take you…about to penetrate you, whispered the little voice in her brain. Once such a prospect would have been unthinkable. Now she welcomed it—and him—with open arms.

“Thrace,” she whispered, reaching for him.

“You won’t be needing this anymore.” Gently but swiftly, he withdrew the heart’s-blood phallus and cast it aside. Trin barely had time to draw a breath and brace herself before he was replacing it with his much longer and thicker shaft.

“That’s right,” she urged, gripping his broad, bare shoulders and drawing him down. “That’s right, Thrace—take me! I need you so much—please!”

“Gods, baby!” With a low groan, he slid deep in her channel, filling her completely as the broad head of his cock kissed the mouth of her womb.

“Make a baby in me,” Trin begged him, wrapping her legs around his trim hips as well. “Take me hard, Thrace—fill me with your seed!” She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to carry his child until now. But it seemed that now the Deep Bonding had occurred, it was all she could think about.

Thrace seemed to like the idea as well. He filled her pussy with long, deep thrusts of his cock, working hard inside her as though he wanted to make sure she was well and thoroughly fucked before he spurted deep in her open pussy.

It was faster this time…harder. Trin instinctively understood that he needed it this way—that he needed to dominate her completely after having submitted so sweetly. She opened herself to him, throwing her thighs wide and matching him thrust for thrust as she worked her pelvis to meet each stroke of his thick cock in her cleft. She could feel her pleasure building again, could feel another orgasm set to overtake her—a deeper one this time. One that would cause her inner muscles to clench around his shaft and milk the seed from him, one whose deep contractions would draw that seed deep into her womb.

Just thinking of that, thinking of letting Thrace fill her with his cum and make her pregnant was too much. The very concept was so deliciously forbidden and she felt so opened, so completely taken by him. With a gasp, she felt the hot sensations peaking as a pleasure deeper than anything she’d ever felt rushed over her in warm waves.

“Ah! Ah—oh Goddess!” she cried as she felt herself clench around his hard shaft. “Oh Thrace, please—it’s too good—it’s too much!”

“Gods, baby—hold on,” he growled hoarsely in her ear. “Almost over with now. Just have to fill your sweet little cunt full of my cum.”

“Come in me,” Trin heard herself begging as she wrapped her legs around his trim waist to draw him in deeper. “Do it now—fill me up! Please.”

Apparently Thrace couldn’t resist her invitation.

“Oh, baby—you feel so sweet and hot and tight around me…need you so much!” With a final low groan, he thrust as deeply into her as he could. The broad head of his cock pressed hard to the end of her channel and Trin felt him coming as spurt after spurt bathed her fertile womb with his hot seed.

The sensation of him coming inside her caused another intense orgasm and she could actually feel herself milking him, pulling his seed deep within. It was almost as though her body knew instinctively that it was safe now—that it was right to take his seed completely and let him come as deep as he could inside her.

It felt incredible…she never wanted it to end. Not just the pleasure but the emotional connection she felt which was like nothing she’d ever experienced. They pressed together, arms and legs wrapped around each other, eyes locked together, as though they could never bear to be parted. And now they would never have to be, Trin realized. They were tied too tightly for anything in the universe to part them.

“Where you go, I will follow…always,” Thrace murmured inside her head. “In life and in death. I love you, Trin.”

“Oh, Thrace…” She felt tears wetting her eyes and couldn’t hold them back. She pressed forward, rubbing his rough cheek with her smooth one. “I love you too,” she whispered in his ear.

“Hey…what are these for?” Thrace must have felt the wetness against his cheek because he pulled out gently and brushed the pad of his thumb over her wet cheek. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Sorry, I know I was thrusting harder than I usually do.”

“No, I wanted you hard inside me,” Trin protested. “I understood why…why you needed to do that. And I wanted it too.”

“They why are you crying?” He cupped her cheek in his big hand and looked at her earnestly. “What is it?”

“It was just so intense. I…I’ve never felt anything like it before—not even when we repaired our bond after you healed my scars.”

“The Deep Bond is intense,” he said soberly. “Tying two lives together so tightly is no light matter. It’s something most Havoc avoid like the plague.”

Trin looked at him uncertainly.

“Are you sorry we did it? Are you worried about what your friend—what Solar—will say when you finally find him? Or are you just not going to tell him?”

Solar had been the first mate aboard Thrace’s ship, The Empress, which was still in dry dock on a dull, unassuming planet called Padge. Solar was also a Havoc and the Havoc motto was, “We do not bond.” He and Thrace had been captured and sold at the Flesh Bazaar slave auction at the same time. Trin had bought Thrace but what had become of Solar? They still didn’t know.

Thrace frowned.

“Of course I’m not sorry,” he growled. “It was my idea!” He pulled away just enough to put a hand between them, resting his big palm on her flat belly. Trin loved the contrast of his lighter skin against her creamy brown tones. “And now I can rest easy, knowing you’re protected when you carry my child.”

“I’m glad,” she said, smiling. “Since there’s no undoing it. And I suppose Solar doesn’t have to know—when you find him.”

“Of course he has to know!” Thrace sounded almost angry. “I’m proud of you and our bond, baby.” He kissed her fiercely, taking Trin’s breath away. “I want everyone to know,” he murmured when he finally pulled away, leaving her panting.

“So when are we going to go look for him?” she asked. “Because you know I’m not letting you go without me.”

“Of course not.” He smiled. “We’ll go as soon as the trackers find the Earth girl the Kindred are looking for.”

Trin looked at him intently.

“You feel somehow responsible for her, don’t you? Even though you’ve never met her.”

“In a way, I guess.” He shrugged uneasily. “I just don’t feel right leaving until she’s located—what if the trackers need something else they can only get from me?”

“And you think that girl—the Earth girl called Kate—can get more information from your memory of the vision Two gave you?” Trin asked. “I thought you said she’d already gotten more than you expected.”

“Well…” He shifted. “I wasn’t exactly talking about the missing girl when I told you that.”

“What then?”

“This…” He made a motion with his big hand, indicating the way the two of them were entwined. “I’d been trying to make up my mind about the Deep Bonding. I knew I wanted to do it but I didn’t know how to approach you about it. And I wasn’t sure if it would stir up any bad memories.”

“And that Kate girl saw all that in your head?” Trin raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know exactly what she saw—she has a gift she calls the ‘Knowing’—said it’s a family trait. But she told me what I was considering was the right thing to do and that I needed to act on my feelings. That’s what made me finally ask you to form the Deep Bond with me.”

“She sounds smart,” Trin murmured. “Very perceptive.”

“She’s tiny,” Thrace said. “Looks like a little doll with all this wild red and gold hair everywhere and her mate—that Wulven Kindred—is as big as me or bigger. I don’t know how he keeps from breaking her when they love each other.”

“Maybe they decided size doesn’t matter,” Trin said, smiling. “And just because I’m not tiny doesn’t mean you’re not strong enough to ‘break’ me. You’re always careful not to hurt me when we make love.”

“All the same, it’s nice that you have something for me to hold on to.” He put a big hand on her hip and squeezed appreciatively. “I wouldn’t want to be with such a tiny female—I’d be worried constantly.”

“You didn’t want to be with any female until you met me,” Trin reminded him, smiling. “And besides, we have other things to worry about—like the trackers finding the lost Earth girl.” She twined her fingers through Thrace’s. “I hope the assassin hasn’t gotten to her yet.”

“That’s my hope too,” Thrace said soberly. “But wherever she is, she’s in the hands of the Goddess now. And we know she takes care of her own.”

“Yes, she does.” Trin snuggled closer to him, laying her head on his broad, muscular chest. “She absolutely does. Still…I’m going to be saying a prayer for the missing Earth girl. I hope the trackers find her soon.”

Chapter Fourteen

Well, we’ve gone through a wormhole and we’re in a completely different galaxy. Nobody’s ever going to find me now—not like they had much chance before, even if they were looking for me, Emily thought. She was sitting on the small couch, staring morbidly at the strange glowing red and gold bubbles that filled the tiny fireplace in her room. Or rather, it was Tragar’s room, but he’d given it to her so she could be more comfortable.

“As if anyone could be comfortable in the state I’m in,” Emily muttered to herself, looking down at her chest. Her breasts were still much too large and swollen and her nipples were so sensitive she couldn’t bear to let anything or anyone touch them. Well, anyone but Tragar, she amended to herself and felt a dull blush spreading over her cheeks.

Several times, during their journey to the mysterious planet where his old master lived, she’d been forced to go to him and admit her breasts were leaking the strange, sweet amber honey he called “nectar.” Each time, he sat her matter-of-factly on his lap and pinched her nipples until the leaking stopped.

And every time, Emily was helpless to stop herself from having a quick, hard orgasm from the experience.

“So embarrassing,” she muttered to herself, feeling her cheeks get even hotter as she remembered the intense pleasure he gave her just from squeezing her sensitive buds. Sometimes if the nectar wouldn’t stop flowing, he tugged her nipples gently or rolled them between his fingers, kneading and massaging them while she writhed helplessly in his lap. At such times, she couldn’t stop the pleasure from building inside her again, making her pussy feel wet and swollen as he touched her so intimately.

It was humiliating, especially since she knew he was only doing what he had to do in order to keep her body in check and stop her from going deeper into the second stage of Tenrah. What was it called again? Oh right—Scintil. She was in Scintil and Tragar was trying to keep her from going into Vlammen.

God, can’t believe I’m starting to remember all the terminology now! It’s like some weird, alien biology course except I’m the alien I’m studying.

It was all too strange and embarrassing for Emily and to make matters worse, her emotions were all over the place. She kept comparing this change in her body to getting her period for the first time—although it was infinitely worse—but there was one thing the Tenrah appeared to have in common with her period—she was grouchy and angry and moody as hell.

Emily knew some women who were barely affected by hormones during “that time of the month” but unfortunately, she wasn’t one of them. Back when she’d been having a normal cycle, she used to get sad and mad and depressed all at once. Thankfully, the intense moods usually only happened the day before her period finally hit. Once it started, she felt better despite the inevitable cramps. But now the intense emotions seemed to have settled onto her like a coat she couldn’t take off and there was no end in sight.

The worst thing was, even though she knew her emotions were due to the new hormones in her system, she couldn’t shrug off their effects. Back when she’d just been having her period, she could tell herself, “Sure, I feel bad now but it’s just hormonal. This will be over in a little while and I’ll feel like myself again.” But now she couldn’t comfort herself like that anymore.

For one thing, though her emotions were heightened, all of her concerns for the future were absolutely valid. And for another, she couldn’t say she’d get “back to herself” because she didn’t know herself anymore. She was changing, damn it! And not for the better.

“I just want this to all be over,” she muttered to herself. “Just want to go home and live a normal life.”

Not that anything would be normal now that she’d had the trouble with Grayson coming back into her world. But she was willing to bet he’d leave her strictly alone now that Tragar had crushed his hand.

Why did he do that, anyway? she wondered. He’s been so careful to tell me he doesn’t care—that he’s only taking care of me because his biology makes him do it. So why bother with punishing Grayson for what he did?

She didn’t know. Maybe it was because hurting a Khalla was akin to defacing a priceless work of art. Emily supposed an art lover might want to break the hand of a vandal who graffitied the Mona Lisa.

Yeah right—only you’re more like the Moaning Lisa, whispered the snarky little voice in her head. Begging and gasping and writhing all over his lap and he’s only touching you and helping you because he has to. Like he has to put up with you acting like a cat in heat while he does what has to be done.

Groaning in humiliation, Emily started to put her head in her hands. But she jumped and gasped with pain as her forearms brushed her too-sensitive nipples.

“Ouch—God damn it!” she nearly shouted. “What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I even touch myself without feeling like I’m being poked with needles and knives?”

“It’s simply part of this stage of your Shift,” a deep voice answered behind her.

Emily jumped and gasped in pain as her arms brushed her nipples once more. God, she needed some kind of protective shield or something between her breasts and the rest of the world! It didn’t help that they were so much bigger than she was used to that she kept touching them by accident.

“Are you all right?” The big Beast Kindred came around to stand in front of her, a worried expression in his golden eyes. “Are you having pain? Is your nectar flowing again?”

“No and it only hurts when I touch them,” Emily said, looking at him resentfully. Despite the fact that he’d licked and pinched her nipples over and over again, she still felt incredibly self conscious sitting there in nothing but her thin nighty with her tight, pink buds poking out of it.

She wished she could hide herself from the big Kindred or at least feel nothing when he looked at her—the way she was sure he felt nothing. But she couldn’t help feeling drawn to him. And whenever he was near enough for her to smell his warm, spicy scent—as he was now—she got a hot tingling sensation between her legs and her pussy felt swollen and achy. It made her angry, both with herself and with him. Especially since she knew he was only helping her because his biology dictated he must.

“Did you just come to check on me or did you have something to say?” she demanded. She was well aware that she sounded petulant and sullen but she didn’t care. She was tired of feeling so out of control of her own body and the big Kindred was a convenient target.

He frowned.

“I came to give you this.” He held out one large hand which had a small pink pill in it.

“What’s that? Is it to stop my, uh, nectar from flowing? And why didn’t you give it to me in the first place?” she asked, taking it from him.

“This will not stop your nectar from flowing—nothing can do that indefinitely.” Tragar sounded stern. “Eventually it will have to flow from your breasts but not until you’re fully into the second stages of Scintil.”

“What?” She stared at him blankly. “What are you—”

“The pill in your hand contains trace amounts of translation bacteria. As a Kindred you’ll have some natural linguistic ability but this will help reawaken the part of your brain that processes language.”

“I always have been good with languages,” Emily admitted. “I took French and Spanish and German and aced them all. I even had a professor who thought I’d make a good translator but I like kids too much—I really wanted to teach kindergarten.”

“Good—then this pill should take effect almost immediately.” He looked at her gravely. “I want you to be able to understand my old Master when he speaks to you and explains what is happening to your body.”

“Oh my God.” Emily shook her head. What’s happening to my body? Seriously? You sound like my mom when she gave me the talk about the birds and the bees!”

He frowned. “I fail to see what insects and avian creatures from Earth have to do with anything. Why would your mother speak to you about them?”

“Never mind.” Emily waved a hand, dismissing her words. “It’s an Earth thing. So when do I get to meet your old teacher? Will he be able to help me reverse this whole weird Tenrah or at least stop it in its tracks?”

Tragar sighed and ran a hand over his face wearily.

“Emily, I have told you there is no stopping the process. Besides—would you really want to be stuck in the early stages of Scintil forever? With your breasts always full and tender, needing a release?”

“I…” She bit her lip. “I guess not. It’s really not very comfortable.” In fact, her breasts felt almost painfully full but she didn’t want to admit that. He seemed to know anyway, however.

“Were we closer to Rageron and if I was truly your chosen mate, I would be massaging you constantly, trying to induce your nectar to flow and ease the pressure in your breasts,” he said softly. “But that isn’t safe right now—not so far from the elders who can help you pick a true mate to see you through the rest of your Tenrah. All we can do for now is to try and hold the process back a little—but nothing can fully stop it. And nothing—nothing—that I have ever heard of can reverse it.”

“It stopped before,” she pointed out. “After Grayson…after he did what he did.”

“What he did was blasphemy. He hurt you—it’s a miracle he didn’t kill you,” Tragar said harshly. “And he only delayed your Tenrah.”

“So I guess you wouldn’t even consider…helping me try to delay it again?” Another ten year reprieve would be better than nothing, she reasoned. But he was already shaking his head.

“No!” His eyes flashed. “A second wrong and early breeding would kill you. I have never heard of any Khalla surviving such a thing twice. I am sorry, Emily, but you must simply endure. Once the Shift begins, it must carry through to the end.”

Emily wanted to ask exactly what would happen at the end but she was afraid to. Afraid to find out that the other would come back and take over and that the girl she knew herself to be would cease to exist completely.

“Fine—I’ll take the pill,” she said at last.

“Good. We’re in orbit now and I’m ready to fire up the shuttle to take us down to the planet’s surface.” He nodded at her. “Come and meet me there as soon as you’re ready. We don’t have a moment to lose.”

“I just need a minute to get ready and I’ll be there.”

He nodded once, then turned and left.

Emily watched his broad back disappear resentfully. She knew what was happening to her body wasn’t his fault but she couldn’t help feeling angry with the big Kindred anyway. Her emotions surged again, making her want to lash out. Somehow she controlled the urge to run after him and give him a piece of her mind but that didn’t mean she was ready to accept everything he said.

Surely he had to be wrong. There had to be some way to stop this—some way to reverse all the bizarre changes going on with her body! Something she could do to halt the process before it was too late and she was changed forever.

No matter what the big Kindred said, she was determined to at least ask—to try and find out. If he wouldn’t help her, she would help herself, damn it!

* * * * *

“What do you mean I have to stay here?” Emily was glaring at him and it was all Tragar could do to keep from shifting uncomfortably in his seat. But he had to be firm with her.

“It’s for your own safety,” he explained. “I need to speak to my old master first and then get the things he promised to help you.”

“So? Why can’t I just go with you into his house and wait in another room while you talk to him?”

Tragar repressed a growl of frustration. Being cooped up in the small shuttle with her again had intensified her scent and it was difficult not to let it affect him.

“Xen’dex lives on the edge of a densely populated trade area,” he explained, trying to keep his voice even. “If I brought you out into the open, your hot scent would spread far and wide, drawing any males in the area to you.”

“Again with the scent thing,” she muttered. “I took a shower before we left, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” He could tell when she’d entered the shuttle by the way her damp hair was slicked back from her forehead and the thin night garment was clinging transparently to her full curves. “Please understand, Emily,” he grated, “I’m not saying you smell bad—rather that you smell too good—too hot—to be out right now.”

“Too hot. Right.” She didn’t sound like she believed him. “So what—I’ll just wait here in the car like a good little girl while you go get me a blanket to cover up with?”

“Essentially, yes. My master should have a scent damping cape you can wear. It will also cover you,” he added, his gaze flicking down to her naked pink peaks, still thrusting from the ragged holes in her night garment.

She saw where his eyes were and blushed. But she still lifted her chin defiantly and didn’t try to cover herself.

“Fine, I’ll stay in the car. But will you at least crack a window so I don’t die of the greenhouse effect?”

Tragar fought to keep from grinding his teeth.

“You don’t seem to understand how sharp the senses of the Wulven Kindred males can be.” Or how extremely dangerous they are, he almost added, but he didn’t want to scare her. “I will leave the air circulating so you will not suffocate or die of heat exhaustion but you must not open the window. Give me a few minutes to get what I need and I’ll return shortly.”

“All right, fine.” She turned her head and looked out of the window. “But I hope after this is all over I’ll get a chance to see at least some of the town. I’ve never been on another planet before. I’m sure you take it for granted but it’s kind of a big deal for me.”

“We’re not here for pleasure or so you can take a sight-seeing tour of the Wulven Howlund,” Tragar growled, losing his patience.

“The what? What’s a Howlund?”

“The place the males congregate when they’re about to…never mind. It’s not a place you should go.” He shook his head, knowing his sarcasm was lost on her. The Howlund was the area just outside of town where the male Wulven went when they were close to changing forms—the worst place a female Khalla in heat could go. He’d parked the shuttle as far from that area as possible, in a shaded, hidden place on the edge of a forest in order to be less conspicuous.

“Apparently no place is a place I should go except where you say I can go,” she flared. “I’m just supposed to accept everything you tell me and do everything you say without question—is that it?”

“You should listen to me and obey my orders because I’m trying to keep you safe!” Tragar was aware that his voice had dropped to an angry growl but he couldn’t seem to help it—her scent was pushing him over the edge.

Her eyebrows rose.

“Obey your orders? Would you listen to yourself? You’re the one who snatched me away from home and decided to take me to Rageron! It’s not like I signed on for this—I’m not your soldier—I’m your prisoner.”

“All the more reason for you to obey,” Tragar snarled. “And if you are a prisoner of anything, it’s your own body—the changes you are going through cannot be denied. If I hadn’t taken you, you’d be dead by now or almost so. Is that what you want? To die?”

She sucked in a breath, her eyes suddenly bright.

“Of course not,” she whispered. “Of course I don’t want to die.”

Tragar let out a low curse and ran his hand through his hair. He’d gone too far, damn it! Her scent was making him crazy—making him want to take her when he knew he must not.

“Forgive me,” he said roughly. “It’s just…I’ve never dealt with a Khalla before. I have only my old training to fall back on.”

“Your training and your instincts—the same ones that kept you from killing me in the first place, isn’t that right?” she said in a low, angry voice. “The same instincts that are the only reason you’re flying me all around the universe instead of zipping me into a body bag.” She looked up at him. “I’m sure that would have been easier for you, wouldn’t it? Just killing me?”

Tragar felt guilt wash over him. He had killed again and again and felt nothing every time. But now her cool gaze on him made the sins of the past weigh heavy on his back.

“I have to go,” he said shortly.

“Fine.” Emily looked away.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible.” Her scent was driving Tragar insane—he had to get out, he told himself—had to get away for a little while. Taking care not to open the shuttle door wider than was absolutely necessary, he slipped out and shut the door, making sure it locked from the inside. The moment he took a breath of fresh air he felt better—his head clearer. It was true that her scent had changed since she slipped into Scintil but it was still nearly impossible not to be affected by it in close quarters.

It certainly affected you enough to say some fairly cruel things, a little voice in his brain whispered. He looked at Emily through the window of the shuttle and saw her brush something from her cheek. Was she crying? Had he made her cry? He cursed himself for an insensitive bastard and for a moment he wanted to open the door of the shuttle and gather her into his arms—to try and comfort her and ask her forgiveness for the fight they’d just had. But he didn’t think she’d want his hands on her just now. Hell, she probably hated him! Tragar couldn’t say he blamed her—he hated himself at the moment, too.

She glanced up and he saw the shine of tears in her eyes. The sight twisted his heart but he tried to keep his face impassive. There was nothing he could do to mend the situation now—he’d let Emily cool down a little and apologize to her later.

He gave her a brief nod which the little female didn’t return and looked around to find his bearings. He’d only been to this planet once while hunting a target but a quick call to his master had yielded enough information to get him to Xen’dex’s domicile.

He walked a few steps in the right direction and looked back, shading his eyes from the bright blue sunlight. G’nera orbited a blue giant sun and though the planet was far from its home star, the sunshine was still fiercely hot. To his satisfaction, he saw that the small shuttle appeared completely hidden in the overhanging leaves of the large bush he’d parked under. Unless someone was actually looking for the shuttle, they wouldn’t even see it. Emily should be safe as long as she stayed inside.

Promising himself that he’d be back soon to make things right between them, he set off in the direction Xen’dex had told him, looking for his old master and some much needed help.

* * * * *

Emily couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so awful. The fight with the big Kindred had really upset her—probably much more than it should have. Maybe it was the weird hormonal changes in her body or maybe it was just the fact that he’d left her shut up in the car like a freaking dog—whatever the reason, she was completely pissed off.

I don’t smell—I don’t know what he’s talking about, the big jerk, she thought resentfully. The only one who smelled was Tragar—he had that dark, spicy, dangerous scent that seemed to draw her to him even when she was angry with him. Even now, it lingered in the small shuttle, making her pussy ache and her nipples tight each time she inhaled. God, what she wouldn’t do for some fresh air! But Tragar had seemed to think that even cracking the window would be a bad idea. Damn the stupid big Kindred asshole…

Part of her knew it probably wasn’t fair to think of him like that but she couldn’t help it—suddenly she just felt like she was a hair away from losing it and screaming until she was hoarse. Then, abruptly, she felt like crying again instead. Freaking mood swings! Oh, she was so over this whole thing. Except she wasn’t—and she wouldn’t be until her body was finished changing. That was, unless she could find a way to keep it from completing the strange, inevitable cycle it was set on. But how?

Emily shifted in her seat again, looking longingly out the window. She couldn’t see much. Tragar had parked them under some kind of huge bush thing with silver and purple leaves.

It was a weird color combination but oddly beautiful, the way the leaves—mostly lavender shading to deep purple at their tips—were etched with thin silver lines which almost looked like some kind of writing. In fact, the more she looked at the broad leaf which was so close it was rubbing against her window, the more she could almost make out some kind of message written in strange, silvery script.

“Come…out,” she read aloud, under her breath. Wait—did the leaf really say that? She rubbed her eyes and looked again. Yes—it did! The words weren’t written in English but somehow she was able to read them anyway. Was the translation bacteria working on her? The leaves rustled softly and more words began to form on the pale purple surface. “Come out…be free…breathe deep,” she read. “Explore…see what is new…” It was almost as though the leaf knew exactly what she wanted to do and was urging her to do it.

“What’s going on?” Emily muttered, shaking her head. “Is this bush really sending me messages or am I going crazy?”

“You’re not crazy, little Mistress. The leaves send messages to those open to receiving them. That is why it is called a message bush.”

The soft voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Emily gasped and jumped, looking around. Who was talking to her? Where were they?

“Do not fear,” the soft, sweet voice continued. A woman’s voice—a milk and honey voice. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth—that’s what Emily’s mother would have said.

“Who…who are you?” she asked, looking around. “And where are you?”

“Just outside your window. I’ll move the leaf and let you see my face if twill not afrighten you too much, little Mistress.”

“I…um…I don’t know.” Suddenly Emily remembered that her nipples were poking out of her night gown. Hastily she held an arm over her bare peaks, trying to shield them from sight without touching them.

“Now, now, little Mistress—it’s only old Grandy See-er. I heard the message bush whispering to you and thought to see who it was a-whispering to.”

“Well…” It sounded like an old lady which didn’t seem too bad to Emily. Though she normally would have avoided letting anyone see her in her current state, she was feeling desperate just now. “All right,” she said at last. “You can, uh, look in.”

“Thanky, little Mistress.” The leaf which had been sending her messages twitched to one side and a soft, wrinkled old face with faded blue eyes took its place.

Emily couldn’t have imagined a kinder or gentler visage if she’d tried. The face looked like it had once been lovely but now age had softened it considerably, leaving only a ghost of past beauty. There was curiosity in the blue eyes but no malice—just a mild interest that seemed completely innocent. Indeed, even the leaves framing the old woman’s face seemed to agree.

Safe…kind…nice…sweet, Emily read the silver script which formed on the purple leaves all around her.

“Howbethee?” the old lady asked which seemed like kind of a question and a greeting at once.

“Um, fine I guess,” Emily said uncertainly. She was still holding her arms in front of her to shield herself but the faded blue eyes never left her face. “Uh—howbethee?” she returned.

“I be fine and so I am, little Mistress,” the old lady said, nodding. “But you be itching to be set free. That I see well enough just by the fretsome look in your eyes.”

“I’m not, uh, fretsome,” Emily protested. “I’m just waiting for someone. He said he’d be back soon.”

“Ah, me…” The old lady shook her head, clucking her tongue in obvious disapproval. “Left you in the shuttle while he went to do male-talk did he?”

“Well…yes. Yes, he did.” Emily felt some of her uncertainty about the old woman fading and being replaced by the irritation towards the big Kindred. “Yes, he just left me out here and said I had to wait for him.”

“Tisn’t right for male folk to treat their females so. So says Grandy See-er and all who think rightly.”

“I totally agree with you,” Emily admitted. “Only he said I’d be in danger if I came out. He said, uh…” She shifted, not certain how to explain what Tragar had said without embarrassing herself. “He said the men…er, males around here all have a very good sense of smell and they might, uh, sniff me out.”

“Pshaw!” Grandy See-er ,made a face as though Tragar’s warning was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “They might if any males was in town—but today they’re all gone down to the Howlund. There’s naught to sniff you out here, little Mistress.”

“Really?” Emily looked at her, wondering if she was telling the truth. But why wouldn’t she be? She seemed like such a nice, sweet old lady. What would she gain by lying?

“Sure—tis true!” The old lady nodded and then looked at her sharply. “So why don’t you do as the message bush tells you and come out for a breath of fresh air? You must be all hot and stuffy-like in that cramped little shuttle.”

The minute she said it, Emily did begin to feel uncomfortably overheated. Tragar had left on the air conditioning as he’d promised but suddenly it didn’t seem to be doing its job very well.

“Come out now, little Mistress,” wheedled the old lady. “Come out from that tight little place.” At her words, Emily felt like if she didn’t get out of the shuttle right now she was going to go crazy with claustrophobia and boredom and irritation.

Still, she hesitated.

“I’m uh…not decent,” she said. “My clothes got sort of cut up.” She didn’t mention that she was the one who had cut them. That was a little too complicated to get into with a stranger. Although now she came to think of it, Grandy See-er didn’t really feel like a stranger anymore. She seemed like a kind, distant relative that Emily hadn’t seen in a long time. Someone she knew cared for her and wished only good things for her. Someone who would never hurt her.

Safe…kind…grandma… said the leaves all around the kindly old face.

“Well, that’s not a problem! Here.” The old lady was wearing a long scarf type thing wound around her head. She unwrapped it, baring a thick braid of pure silver hair, and held it out for Emily to see. “We can wrap this round your shoulders—twill cover you just so,” she said, smiling.

Yes, it will, Emily thought, staring at the soft-looking deep blue fabric. And she could use her hands to keep it away from her sensitive nipples. It was a perfect idea!

“Just open the door a little crack and I’ll pass it in to you, so I will,” the old lady wheedled.

“Okay.” For a moment Emily wondered again if this was wise. But the old lady seemed so nice—even the message bush thought so. And I just want a breath of fresh air, she told herself. Just a few deep breaths and then I’ll go back in the shuttle. That’s not a big deal, right?

Before she could change her mind her fingers were feeling for the unfamiliar door-latch mechanism. She’d seen Tragar work it—the lever had to be pulled up and out and then the lock popped and the door slid soundlessly open.

As soon as it did, a warm, fresh gust of air slipped inside the stuffy cab of the shuttle. It teased around her hair and caressed her skin, making her feel refreshed and excited.

“Ahh,” she breathed, taking the blue scarf the old lady handed her without question. “That’s wonderful!”

“Course it tis, child.” Grandy See-er gave her that sweet, kind smile again. “Tis a lovely day, sent straight from the Goddess. Come out and see for yourself.”

“All right, I will.” Wrapping the scarf carefully around herself, Emily stepped out of the shuttle and onto a soft bed of purple moss that felt cushy and delightfully cool against her bare feet. “Mmm…” She wiggled her toes and looked around, getting a much better view than she’d had from the shuttle.

They appeared to be standing on the edge of some kind of forest with vast tree-like growths arching overhead. Blue sunlight filtered down through a canopy of purple, silver and green leaves. The trees had trunks that were silvery gray and completely smooth up to the top where most of the leaves sprouted. The soft, pale purple moss Emily was standing on seemed to carpet the entire forest floor. The air was filled with a warm, growing scent like ferns and fresh turned dirt and wild flowers but all of it had a slightly exotic, alien tang that made it even more exciting.

Really, except for the colors, the whole area reminded her of something out of a Disney cartoon—the idyllic forest where Princess Aurora meets Prince Philip in Sleeping Beauty, perhaps. Emily half expected a group of tame forest animals to come racing over the smooth, springy moss whistling Once Upon a Dream.

“Pretty, tisn’t it?” Grandy See-er was watching Emily with a little smile on her face. Without her head scarf she looked even older and very wise. She was wearing a long, white dress woven with colorful threads in marvelous patterns and she was barefoot like Emily. “We have a lovely home world, we Wulvens do.”

“You certainly do.” Emily looked around regretfully. “It’s gorgeous! I just wish I could see more of it before we go.”

“And why shouldn’t you, little Mistress?” Silvery eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Isn’t that why you came out of your ship? So old Grandy See-er could show you around, all hospitable-like?”

“Oh, well…” The minute she said it, Emily did feel like that was the reason she’d gotten out of the shuttle in the first place. But something stopped her—some memory of Tragar saying it was dangerous. “Thank you for your kind offer but I really shouldn’t,” she said regretfully. “I’m waiting for my…my…” What was Tragar to her? He wasn’t her boyfriend certainly—she didn’t really think she could even call him a friend. But saying “my ex-assassin who decided to help me instead of killing me” didn’t sound right either.

“Your captor?” Grandy See-er suggested, her faded blue eyes sparkling. “The male who stole you away from your home world and left you stuck in a shuttle while he went to do male-talk?”

When she put it that way, Emily couldn’t help but agree.

“Well, yes,” she said. “But he’s helping me now. I mean, he brought me here to see someone who could help me with my…my condition.”

“What condition, little Mistress? Ah, wait—don’t tell me…” Those silvery eyebrows arched once more and her nostrils flared. Emily reflected that she hadn’t noticed what a long, hooked nose the old lady had back when she was seeing her through the shuttle window. “You be in heat!” she exclaimed triumphantly, poking a long, crooked finger at Emily. “Isn’t that so?”

“Well…kind of, I guess.” Emily was beginning to feel uncomfortable. This really wasn’t something she wanted to be discussing with a stranger, no matter how kind and sweet she seemed.

“Not just any heat either—you be a Khalla—one of the rare females that embodies the Goddess herself!” She sniffed again. “And you be in Scintil—soon to enter Vlammen if you don’t do something to stop it—and that right quick!”

Emily stared at her. “How do you know all that? How do you know all the, uh, terminology? I thought this was a strictly Beast Kindred thing and we’re not anywhere near Rageron.”

“Ah, but your male’s friend be not the only expert that the Khalla come to see to help them in their Tenrah.” The old lady nodded sagely.

“But I thought only one or two were born in a generation.”

“Is that what your male told you?” The old lady frowned. “Then he must not know much about the Wulven. Many Beast Kindred come to bond Wulven females and so more Khalla are born here.” She pointed at herself. “That’s why Grandy See-er knows more than most anyone about stopping the flow of the nectar and reversing the Shift.”

“Excuse me, what?” Emily felt a surge of hopeful excitement. “What did you say? Did you say you could reverse it?”

“Well, certainly I can, little Mistress! With the proper tools and treatments, of course—I don’t have them with me, though.” Grandy See-er pointed into the forest. “They’re in my humble little hovel, a few steps from here—just beyond those trees. Would you like to come and see?”

“Oh, uh…” Emily bit her lip uncertainly. “I really shouldn’t…I mean, Tragar told me to stay in the shuttle…”

“You’ll be safe enough with me.” The old woman patted her arm comfortingly. “Nobody bothers Grandy See-er. I’m like a second great-mother to the whole town.”

The moment she said it, Emily could see how it must be true. Probably all the little children adored the sweet, kind old lady and all the mothers in town called on her for advice. She was probably like some kind of alien Mrs. Piggle Wiggle. Still, something made her hang back.

“I just…I’m not sure.”

“Well, suite yourself, little Mistress.” The old lady shrugged her boney shoulders, her long white dress rustling. “But I can’t help those as don’t want to be helped.”

“But I do want to be helped!” Emily protested. “I want to stop this…this whole process. And I want to go back to normal and live my life and not feel like my whole body is turning against me!”

“Well, of course you do.” Grandy See-er took Emily’s arm and stroked it comfortingly. “Tis a strange and scary change you’re going through, little Mistress and old Grandy would like to help you if you’ll be let her.”

The touch of the soft, wrinkled hand somehow decided her. Surely nothing bad could happen to her while she was with such a sweet old lady!

“All right,” she said, smiling. “I guess it can’t hurt, as long as you promise we’ll be back soon.”

“Of course, little Mistress.” Grandy See-er patted her arm again and her faded blue eyes seemed to sparkle strangely. “Of course. Now come along—we have much to do.”

* * * * *

“Tragar! So good to see you again!” Xen’dex ushered him into the small domicile with a smile. “No, don’t shut the door. We leave them open here—it is the Wulven way.”

“Xen’dex, my old master!” Tragar clasped arms with him in a warrior’s greeting, glad to feel that his old teacher’s grip was still as strong as ever. “You’ve scarcely aged a day,” he remarked, looking at his master.

Indeed, except for his long hair being iron gray now, Xen’dex was much the same as Tragar remembered when he’d learned from him as a young male.

“The years have been kind.” Xen’dex nodded.

“To some of us,” Tragar muttered. He broke the warrior’s clasp and stepped back a little to look around. The domicile was long and low and the same moss that carpeted the forest floor served as a floor covering inside. On a small table stood a holo of Xen’dex with his arm around a pretty, petite female with brilliant blue eyes. “Is that your mate?”

“Yes, that’s my Saskia.” His master’s chest swelled with pride and his eyes shone with love. “She’s off visiting her kin this day so I’m afraid you won’t get to meet her.”

Tragar wondered if his master’s mate being out of the house was pure coincidence…or something planned. He supposed he wouldn’t blame Xen’dex if it was the latter. He wouldn’t want any female he loved being around an assassin of the Verrak either.

“She’s lovely,” he said shortly. “Couldn’t find a female on Rageron you could bond with?”

“They’re scarce and getting scarcer. How many years since you were home?”

“I have no home now,” Tragar said grimly. “But I haven’t been back to Rageron since Landra and Jalex…” He shook his head. “I haven’t been back in a while.”

“I understand,” Xen’dex said quietly. “It must be difficult for you to go back now.”

“Difficult but necessary.” Tragar sighed. “I must get Emily to the Holy Mountains before she enters the fourth stage of her Shift. In fact, I’d like to get her there before she enters the third stage—or even gets to the last part of the second.”

“That may not be possible. Tell me about her—where did you find her? How did she come to be so far from Rageron?” Xen’dex asked, leading him further into the domicile.

“She was a target—is a target,” Tragar admitted heavily. “I don’t expect you to understand or approve,” he added quickly, seeing the flash in his old master’s golden eyes. “I took her contract because the male who contacted me claimed she was dangerous and deserving of death.”

Xen’dex arched an eyebrow at him as he led Tragar into a small, comfortably furnished room with low, legless chairs. He lowered himself with a warrior’s grace and sat back against one, letting his legs rest on the purple moss. He motioned at Tragar to take another.

“So is she? Dangerous?”

“Of course not! Emily’s sweet and kind—she teaches younglings for a living. She loves them and cares for them deeply. She’s always gentle when they’re hurt or upset and she—” Tragar stopped abruptly, realizing that his old master was staring at him with a small smile playing about his lips. “She’s not dangerous and she doesn’t deserve to die,” he finished. “Obviously, the male who convinced me to take her contract lied.”

“And what do you plan to do about that?” Xen’dex murmured. “My understanding was that if you don’t kill her, you must kill yourself. Or one of your order will come after you and do it for you.”

The narsh on Tragar’s arm burned but he ignored it.

“I’m on my guard against any such eventuality but right now I’m more concerned with getting her safely to Rageron,” he said. “I don’t know how long she was in the first stage, Kalor, but she passed into Scintil very quickly and I’m afraid she’ll speed through the rest of the stages before I can get her to the Holy Mountains where the elders can…” The words seemed to stick in his throat but he forced them out anyway. “Can help her find a mate to bond with.”

“And this is what you truly want? For her to find another male to bond with and mate?” Xen’dex raised his eyebrows again and gave Tragar that piercing stare he remembered from his youth. That stare that seemed to see right through him.

“Of course it’s what I want,” he protested. “Emily is beautiful and kind and gentle. She deserves a male who is worthy of her.”

“Only the Goddess can say if a male is worthy…or unworthy,” Xen’dex said softly.

“Maybe she can say that for a male who hasn’t renounced her,” Tragar growled.

“Just because you have renounced the Goddess doesn’t mean she has renounced you, Tragar.”

Tragar wondered what his old master would think of him if he knew how very unworthy he really was…if he knew how he had whipped the Khalla he was supposed to be protecting with his belt in order to drive back her Kit’tara… He would probably be horrified and justifiably so.

He shrugged irritably.

“That’s no concern of mine. I’m only taking Emily to Rageron because I am biologically unable to do other than help and protect her. That and the fact that I’ve never been able to get your damn teachings out of my head.”

“Protect a Khalla at all costs, for she is more precious than any jewel in the universe,” Xen’dex said, nodding. “Speaking of which, where is she?”

“I thought I’d come and get the equipment you said you had first.”

“Oh yes. Just a moment.” Xen’dex got up from the low chair and left the room for a moment. When he returned, he had a small wooden box filled with various articles. “Now, here are the clamps I told you about,” he said, holding up two small clear clamps with soft, white fur lining their insides. “That’s tala fur—it’s charge-neutral so they won’t hurt the Khalla’s sensitive peaks. Of course, you can only hold back the nectar for so long. Eventually her breasts will become too full and she will have to be eased.”

Tragar cleared his throat and shifted in his low chair. He couldn’t help flashing on a mental image of himself kneeling before Emily and massaging her full breasts to help the nectar flow. Still, he knew he shouldn’t want to do such a thing—he didn’t deserve to.

“Hopefully we’ll be on Rageron in the Holy Mountains by then,” he said in a low voice.

Xen’dex gave him a sharp look. “Yes. Hopefully.” He got something else out of the box. “This is tanda-berry ointment. It can be used to ease her extreme sensitivity both above and below. Although you are aware if she passes through Scintil and into Vlammen before you can get her to Rageron, only the Healing Kiss can truly ease her pain.”

Tragar cleared his throat again. “Of course.”

He refused to let himself even picture that, though. Giving Emily the Healing Kiss…kneeling between her legs while she spread her thighs wide for him…inviting him in… No! He had to stop—it wasn’t right to think of such things.

Xen’dex pulled something else out of the box. “And this—”

“Forgive me, Master Xen’dex, but what I really need right now is the scent dampening cape you said you had the second time I called you,” Tragar interrupted. “I left Emily out in the shuttle for safety but she won’t be content to stay for long. Her scent is dangerous right now—as sweet as honey and hot as fire. She…” He frowned, lifting his head and drawing in a deep breath. “She is…” He inhaled again and looked back towards the open door of the domicile. “Gods, I can smell it—I can smell her scent!”

Xen’dex lifted his nose as well and breathed deeply. He nodded.

“That’s it, all right—the scent of a Khalla in heat. Didn’t I tell you it was unmistakable?”

“It is but what I’m most worried about now is that we can’t be the only two males smelling it!” Tragar growled, jumping to his feet. “And I know how sharp Wulven Kindred senses are—she’ll draw every male in town to her!”

“Most of them are at the Howlund right now,” Xen’dex said, getting up as well. “But you’re right—it’s better not to spread the scent around too much. Especially now when Trilee, the second moon is in phase. Most of the Wulven are close to their change right now.”

“Come on.” Tragar was already hurrying out of the domicile, retracing his path through the forest with his nose high in the air. The closer he got to the hidden place he’d parked the shuttle, the stronger Emily’s scent became. Xen’dex was right behind him but when they got to the shuttle, he stopped.

“Where is she?”

“She should be in the shuttle.” Tragar was already pushing the purple and silver leaves aside, trying to get to the door. When he pulled it open, a fresh gust of scent rushed over him, making his jaw clench and his shaft grow painfully hard. But the owner of that sweet, maddening scent was nowhere to be seen.

Emily was gone.

Chapter Fifteen

“This is a…um, a nice place.” Emily hovered in the doorway, looking around the tiny, crude hovel uncertainly.

“It’s no flower-palace but it’s good enough for old Grandy See-er.”

The old woman bustled around, bending her head so as to keep from knocking it against the low ceiling which was hung with many different bunches of drying herbs. The air was thick with the sweet, spicy scent of them as well as something that was faintly bitter and resinous like pine. The smell reminded Emily of a Christmas shop—like the one she and her sister visited in Saint Pete that was open all year round.

The thought brought tears to her eyes. What would her sister and parents be thinking? She’d been missing for long enough that someone would have noticed by now—probably even filed a missing person’s report. Her family must be worried out of their minds—she hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye or explain where she was going or why…

“Come now, come in and Grandy will find what she needs.”

The sweet voice broke her train of thought and Emily looked up, blinking tears out of her eyes.

“Come now, come now,” the old woman urged her to come all the way in and shut the door behind her. “Mustn’t let the scents out—all Grandy’s fine herbs would be ruined.”

She led the way and Emily tried to follow. But after being out in the bright blue sunshine, she could barely see in the dark little house. She stumbled over something soft which hissed at her angrily.

“Oh!” she gasped as she jumped away from whatever it was. She would have fallen if Grandy See-er hadn’t caught her under her arm and held her up. She was remarkably strong for such an old woman.

“Now, don’t mind my little Tatem,” she said, nodding down at the floor where the thing Emily had tripped on was still hissing. “She’s not used to strangers, so she isn’t.”

“What…what is that? Your pet?” Emily tried to get a better look at it but her eyes were still adjusting. As far as she could tell, the animal in question looked like four or five brightly colored balls strung together with multiple legs sticking out on all sides. It had a sharp, pointed face and large round eyes that glowed in the dim cabin. All together, it looked to Emily like someone had crossed a caterpillar and a cat and the animal, whatever it was, was still hissing resentfully at her.

“She’s a good girl, is my Tatem,” Grandy See-er said comfortably. “She’ll warm to you in a moment. Just give her time, so you must.”

“I…um, okay I guess.” Emily eyed the caterpillar-cat doubtfully. “If you say so.”

“So I do. So says Grandy See-er. Now sit right down here while I find what you’re needing, little Mistress.”

Grandy pushed her down, again with surprising strength, into a low, legless chair in the corner of a crowded room. There were more legless chairs as well as other pieces of furniture Emily couldn’t identify. In the middle of the room was a vast, low table strewn with all kinds of papers and equipment. It looked like a jumbled heap of junk to Emily but the old lady got on her knees in front of it and began sifting through the clutter as though she knew exactly what she was looking for.

“Now then, now then…where are those nubbin pinchers?” she muttered under her breath. “And the chafing shaft—we’ll need that as well.”

Nubbin pinchers? Chafing shaft? None of that sounded very appealing to Emily but she had other things to worry about. The caterpillar-cat Grandy had called Tatem had apparently decided it liked Emily after all. It jumped up in her lap and began making a low, throaty humming sound while it kneaded her knees with about a dozen sharp little paws.

“Oh…hi.” Emily looked at it, not sure what to do. Finally she tried patting its long, segmented body of puff balls which seemed to have a good effect. The creature’s humming increased and it arched its back in obvious pleasure so Emily stroked it again. “Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” she murmured as it continued to hum and knead her legs. “You’re just a sweet little catapiddy-kitty, aren’t you?”

“Tatem’s a little lovey, aren’t you Tatem?” Grandy See-er cooed, coming over. “All right now, little Mistress—here’s what you need.” She was holding several things in her hands and by this time Emily’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom well enough to see them. They still didn’t make sense, however.

“What are those?” she asked blankly, nodding at the two small silver things in the old lady’s right hand. They looked a little like old fashioned thimbles—the kind her grandma used to wear on her thumb while quilting to keep from pricking herself. Hanging from the end of each “thimble” were many fine golden chains that looked a little like metallic tassels.

“Why these are star-silver nubbin pinchers, little Mistress.” Grandy smiled at her, showing teeth that were surprisingly white. “They’ll stop the flow of nectar right quick, so they will. Look.” She split one of the silver thimble things at its side and spread it open, holding it up for Emily to see. Inside, it was studded with tiny bumps. “Here,” the old lady urged. “Try and see.”

Before Emily could stop her, she flipped up the blue scarf that covered Emily’s breasts and slipped the silver thimble over her right nipple. With a swift, decisive click, she snapped it closed.

“Ouch!” Emily gasped as the tiny bumps grew thorns that pricked her sensitive peak all over. Had she thought an accidental touch was painful? This was a thousand times worse—she thought she might faint from the pain! “Ow, oh my God—that hurts—take it off! Please, take it off!” She clawed frantically at her breast but the silver thimble was clamped on tight and there was no getting it off.

“No, no—wait but a moment, little Mistress. It hurts at first but then the nubbins numb the pain.” Grandy See-er took her flailing hand and stroked it soothingly. “Just a moment more—you’ll see.”

Emily tried to take a deep breath but it came out as more of a ragged sob. Oh God it hurt so much. Like being shot and stabbed and burned all in one of the most sensitive parts of her body at the same time! But then, gradually, she became aware that the pain was fading. Fading and being replaced by a blessed numbness. A cool tingling sensation started in her nipple and spread to her entire right breast, making her feel calm and relaxed and not nearly so upset.

“There now—you see?” Grandy See-er asked. “Sorry to put it on you sudden-like, little Mistress, but it’s best the first one goes on quick.”

Emily blinked tears out of her eyes and examined herself more closely.

“Will it come off?” she asked doubtfully, looking down at her silver-tipped nipple with the long golden chains hanging from it. It looked like she’d decided to wear some kind of weird pasties like a stripper who only wanted to conceal the bare minimum of skin.

“Oh certainly—any time,” Grandy See-er answered easily. “Of course, if you take it off too soon, it can’t do its job. And it’ll hurt twice as bad to put it back on again,” she warned as Emily began to fumble for the hinge on the side of the silver thimble.

“It will?” She let her hands drop reluctantly to her lap where, strangely enough, the caterpillar-cat was still humming contentedly despite her earlier outburst.

“Yes, indeedy-do,” the old lady said brightly. “But if you leave it on, twill hold back your nectar and keep you from going to the second stage of Scintil.”

“Okay, that’s good I guess.” Emily eyed the other silver nipple cap warily. “Do I have to put that one on as well?”

“If you want it to work. Here—” As before, the old lady was incredibly quick. Before Emily could jerk away, she was clamping the other silver thimble onto the left nipple.

The pain that followed was intense but not quite as bad as it had been with the right nipple. Emily writhed and moaned, squeezing her hands into fists as she tried not to faint from the sharp, stabbing, burning sensation.

To her relief, the pain began to fade quickly, replaced once more by the cooling numbness that made her feel calm and relaxed.

“There now, there now…” Grandy See-er seemed pleased. “That’s the top taken care of. Now for down below.”

“Down below?” Emily looked up from her contemplation of the weird nipple clamps, her heart beginning to skitter nervously in her chest. “What do you mean ‘down below?’”

“Why, you know what I mean child—your honey pot.” Suddenly the old lady produced something that was infinitely scarier than the silver thimbles with their long golden tassels. It looked like a silver dildo, with golden studs all over, much like the ones that covered the insides of the thimbles but larger.

“What are you expecting me to do with that?” Emily asked flatly. As if I didn’t know, whispered a little voice at the back of her brain. “Because whatever it is, I’m not doing it.”

“Oh, so you don’t want to stop the Tenrah after all?” Grandy See-er raised one bushy silver eyebrow at her. “For I thought you did. But no matter, I’ll put it away. And perhaps you’d better give me back the nubbin pinchers too. For they’re no good without the chafing shaft, so they aren’t.” She started to get up, taking the strange silver dildo looking thing with her.

“Wait—” Emily put out a hand to stop her.

“Yes?” Grandy looked at her, the faded blue eyes glittering strangely. “What is it, little Mistress?”

“Explain it to me. Just explain it.” Emily crossed her legs tightly which caused the caterpillar-cat to hiss angrily. “Tell me what it does and if it’s going to hurt.”

“No, twon’t hurt—not like the nubbin pinchers did. Because you’re not in the third stage of Tenrah yet—you’re not into Vlammen,” Grandy explained. “And the chafing shaft will keep you from getting there. It’s star-silver as well and fits inside your well to keep your honey from flowing, do you see?”

“Um, no—I don’t see. Does it have some kind of chemical on it?” Emily asked, frowning.

“Mostly the star-silver itself does the job. But there’s also sssence of Yarros root and a dab of Bitter Sorrow flower from Rageron rubbed on it,” the old woman said promptly. “Keeps your well from flowing, see? Without this to stop it, your honey would flow like a fountain once you reached Vlammen. But with the chafing shaft in place, your Shift can’t continue. So you’re safe from moving forward with the stages.”

“Okay, I guess…” Emily looked at the thing uncertainly. “But… I have to wear it inside me?”

“Tis the only way,” Grandy assured her. “Just stand up and slip it in, old Grandy won’t look.”

She handed the shiny silver dildo with its golden nubs to Emily matter-of-factly and then turned back to the table, busying herself with sorting through the bric-a-brac that covered it.

Emily stood uncertainly, brushing the angry Tatem from her lap who hissed and stalked off to nurse her wounded dignity in the opposite corner. She looked down at the weird dildo thing again and shivered. Should she really do this? It looked to be about six inches long and it was fairly slim—only as thick as two of her fingers put together. Still, she hadn’t had anything inside her since that awful night with Grayson—not even a tampon. And she didn’t particularly like the idea of having to wear something inside herself all the time. Plus, how would it stay in? She didn’t see any straps to hold it on. Also, how did she know it was clean? Sure, it looked all shiny and new but—

“Now don’t worry about the chafing shaft—tis clean and new,” Grandy said, as though reading her mind. “I made it for another Khalla but she went through the stages too quickly and wasn’t able to get here for my help in time.” She shook her head sadly. “Ah, what a tragedy that was. She was never the same after, no she twasn’t. I only wish I’d been able to help her before she changed.”

Before she changed… The words chilled Emily to the bone. The other wasn’t bothering her right now but she could still remember the horrible dreams she’d had of it taking over her body completely. And that was what she had to look forward to if she let this process continue—the complete and total obliteration of her personality, her appearance—everything that made her her was going to be gone.

No, I can’t let that happen—I can’t!

Not letting herself think about it anymore, Emily reached under the short hem of her nighty, pushed her panties aside, and pressed the cold metal head of the chafing shaft against the entrance of her pussy. She gritted her teeth and pushed, trying to get the damn thing inside before she had time to regret her decision.

To her surprise, it slid in easily. It went all the way inside her but just when she was wondering if it was going to just slide out again, something strange happened. She felt the bottom of the thing change and expand, forming a kind of metal seal around the outside of her entrance. When she felt it with her fingers, it was like a flat, metal disk about the circumference of a silver dollar and it seemed to be holding the chafing shaft inside her. At the same time, she felt the golden nubs that studded the outside of the shaft expand, growing larger and bumpier inside her. It was an odd sensation but not a painful one, she thought. So at least Grandy had been telling the truth about that.

“Well, well, little Mistress—do you have it in?” the old lady asked, breaking her train of thought.

Emily realized she was standing there with her nighty pulled up, groping between her legs. Quickly she smoothed the silky blue material down over her thighs and sat back down. As she moved she felt the metal dildo shift inside her—a very weird sensation—but it wasn’t painful, just strange.

“Yes, I’m, uh, decent,” she said and cleared her throat. “So all these things I’m wearing are going to help stop my Shift?”

“They will indeed. You’ll never get to the next stage.” For some reason the old lady seemed to find this funny. She cackled shrilly as she surveyed Emily.

“Okay, thank you.” The weird laughter was a little off-putting, but Emily tried to ignore it. “Thank you but you told me out by the shuttle that you could reverse the process—not just stop it. Is that possible?”

Grandy See-er stopped laughing abruptly and looked at Emily seriously.

“Ah, alas little Mistress, I do not have the ingredient I need to reverse your process. I thought I did but I must have used all I had left on the last Khalla I helped.”

“Well what ingredient is it?” Emily asked. “Can you get some more of it? I mean, I don’t want to sound ungrateful—of course I’m very relieved to have stopped the process in it’s tracks—but I really can’t go around all the rest of my life wearing these…these things.” She gestured down at the nipple clamps and the hidden dildo which still felt weird and somehow wrong inside her. “I mean, I teach kindergarten for a living—I can’t go to work looking like something out of Fifty Shades.”

“In order to reverse the process completely you must drink the Black Milk.” Grandy’s faded blue eyes seemed to be almost glowing in the dim room as she leaned towards Emily. “The Black Milk is the only way.”

“Black Milk? What’s that? And how can I get some?” Emily leaned forward too, searching the wrinkled old face earnestly. “Please, I have to stop this. I have to go back to normal!”

“Tis the sap of the Bitter Sorrow flower—it grows only on Rageron in the Holy Mountains.”

“Wait—didn’t you say there was some of that already on the uh, the chafing shaft thing?” Emily asked, nodding down between her thighs.

“There is but not enough to reverse the process. The sap works best when harvested fresh.” Grandy See-er nodded wisely. “You can tell the flower by the fact that it’s all black—root and stem, petal and piston—as black as night without another color in sight.”

“So I just break the stem and drink the sap?” Emily asked? “And that will reverse the process?”

Grandy nodded solemnly.

“Why, twill end your sorrows, little Mistress—all of them—forever!” She laughed again, that shrill cackle which was so unlike her sweet, kind speaking voice. It set Emily’s teeth on edge but she didn’t want to seem rude so she just nodded.

“Thank you, Grandy. I can’t thank you enough. Er…” She twisted her fingers together. “And I’m afraid I can’t pay you either. I don’t, uh, have any money.” Not that it would have done any good. A hundred dollar bill would just be a piece of paper here—they might not even use currency for money at all. Maybe they were on the barter system? Emily had no idea. It was an alien world—anything was possible.

“No, no—don’t worry about that, little Mistress.” The old lady smiled sweetly. “You need not pay old Grandy—unless…”

“Unless what?” Emily urged. She felt very uncomfortable about not being able to pay. Especially since Grandy had said the nubbin pinchers and chafing shaft were made of star-silver, which sounded expensive.

“Unless you’d like to give me a lock of your pretty hair? I like to keep a lock from every Khalla I help. As a memberence—that’s all.”

“Oh, well sure if you’d like.” Though why anyone would want a piece of her dishwater blonde hair was beyond Emily. She’d always hated the color but it didn’t take dye well at all so she was stuck with it.

“Thankee, little Mistress.” Grandy See-er scrabbled around in the junk on the cluttered table and came up with what looked like an alarmingly large pair of shears with curving tips. But though the cutting implement was cartoonishly big, she snipped only a tiny bit of Emily’s hair. Then she wrapped it carefully in a twist of cloth and hid it away somewhere in the folds of her dress.

“Okay, well…” Emily hesitated, not knowing what to say. Were they done here? Should she go? Could she find her way back to the shuttle by herself? She’d always had an abysmal sense of direction…

“Take a sup of nem-nam with me afore we take you back.” Grandy was suddenly shoving a steaming cup that seemed to be made of some kind of bark into Emily’s hands. The liquid inside was very dark green and had an unappetizing algae-like smell.

“Oh, uh…” Emily really didn’t want to drink the weird, steaming liquid but she couldn’t think of a way to refuse without hurting her hostess’s feelings. And besides, Grandy See-er had done so much for her—surely one little sip of it wouldn’t hurt? Just to be polite.

“Come now—tis good for you, so it tis. Good for the memory.” Grandy tapped her forehead and cackled again. “And what you want to remember, little Mistress, is to keep the pinchers and the chafing shaft in place until you can get the Black Milk. Only that can set you free. The Black Milk.”

“Thank you. I’ll remember,” Emily said meekly. Lifting the cup to her lips, she held her breath and took the smallest sip possible.

Immediately, everything froze. Grandy, who seemed to be in the middle of saying something, stopped with her mouth open and the words half formed. The caterpillar-cat which had been in the act of crawling into Emily’s lap again, paused with one of its multiple paws resting delicately on her knee. Even the steam rising from the cup stopped moving.

“What in the world?” Emily tried to say—only to realize that she couldn’t talk.

She was frozen too.

* * * * *

“Where did she go? Why did she leave?” Tragar was frantic, already scenting the air, trying to find the trail that would lead him back to Emily.

As if you don’t know why she left, whispered the little voice in his brain. After the fight you had—the way you spoke to her—of course she wanted to get away!

Xen’dex was also scenting the air and the look on his face was extremely grim.

“I think I know where your Khalla went, Tragar,” he said in a low voice. “And I know who is with her as well.”

“What do you mean? There’s someone with her? Who?” Possessive rage burned through him like fire. “Where is the bastard? If he’s hurt her or so much as laid a finger on her I’ll kill him—I swear I will!”

“It’s not a male—she might be safer if it was.” Xen’dex sniffed the air again. “The smell is subtle—almost covered by the Khalla’s mating scent—but it’s there. I believe she went with a lon-gon-har—a voice witch.”

“A what? What the hell is a voice witch?” Tragar demanded.

“A female Wulven with strange powers. Come, I’ll tell you as we go.” Xen’dex nodded into the forest.

“But…I don’t smell anything. Or anything but Emily, anyway.”

“That’s because you’re so attuned to her,” Xen’dex said patiently. “You’re acting as her chosen mate—you’re not interested in anyone else.”

“I’m just trying to protect her—a job I’m failing at miserably,” Tragar groaned. “Why did I leave her in the shuttle? I knew there might be other assassins after us but I thought we’d shaken anyone who might be following by going through the wormhole. I thought it safer to leave her locked inside than risk the Wulven males scenting her.”

“The voice witch is no assassin—if anything she’s an opportunist. She must have seen something about your Khalla that she liked and decided to take her.”

“But why would Emily go with her? I warned her how dangerous it was to even open the door!”

“The witch probably talked her into it. A lon-gon-har can make anyone believe what she says just by the power of her voice—especially if it’s what they want to hear.” Xen’dex was already moving off into the forest, sniffing the air for the scent only he could smell. “Come, we need to get to your Khalla before the witch’s spell of control is finalized. If she manages to gain a permanent foothold in your female’s mind, the consequences may be far reaching and irreversible.”

* * * * *

“I’ve done as you asked, now pay me.” The old witch held out a grubby paw tipped with long, dirty nails.

“Pay her,” whispered the voice of the Master in Y’s brain. “I grow weary of her grasping ways.”

Obediently, Y counted out the golden credit coins they had agreed to and dropped them into the dirty palm.

“Thankee!” The witch grinned up at him, showing brownish teeth. How she had gotten the Earth female to follow her, Y had no idea. But somehow she’d cast a spell over her and had gotten the female to do all sorts of things, including clamping silver tips to her sensitive, swollen nipples which had looked extremely painful. Well, technically the witch herself had put those on but the Earth female had inserted a strange silver device between her thighs of her own volition—Y knew because he had been watching from the shadows, concealed by a ragged black curtain.

He wondered what the little female would think if she knew a male had been watching her strange, secret actions. Would she be upset? Appalled? Not that it mattered what she thought or felt since she was soon to be dead. The witch apparently thought the same thing.

“Now you can do with her as you wish, so you can,” she said, motioning to the Earth girl who was still frozen in place with the cup halfway to her lips.

“Shall I kill her, Master?” Y sub-vocalized so that only the Master could hear him. Master Two might be a chip implanted just under his left ear, but he was unable to read Y’s thoughts, making it necessary to speak aloud. Y was certain that the Master would order him to step out and strangle the Earth female or perhaps just break her neck, which would be quick and easy and painless—not that he should care if he caused her any pain, he told himself. But the answer he got surprised him.

“No—not just yet.” The Master sounded excited—almost as if he was laughing. “No, that’s too easy and this is too much fun.”

“But why not?” Y was bewildered. “Why bother to track the Verrak here and get the girl alone if not to kill her? I thought you wanted her dead, Master.”

“And so I do—but I also wish to punish that meddling assassin whom I hired to kill her in the first place.” The master’s voice sounded shrill and petulant. “How dare he refuse to kill her after he promised he would? I paid a lot for that contract I put on her!”

“Then I will kill him too,” Y said. “If it pleases you.”

“What would please me is if you’d stop being so stupid and appreciate the subtleties of the situation!”

For the first time, Y felt the sting of irritation at the Master who was always with him. But it was wrong to feel that way—he knew it and subdued the feeling quickly.

“I am only newly made, Master,” he said, humbly. “I do not know the ways of the universe as you do.”

“Very well, that’s true. It took me a little while to train X as well.” The master sighed. “Here is what you must know about the Verrak—if they do not kill their target, they must kill themselves. If they refuse to do that, another member of their order will be dispatched to kill the rogue assassin. Either way, a death is necessary to fulfill the contract.”

“So you want to wait and let another member of the Verrak kill the girl? Or kill the assassin who was sent to kill her in the first place?”

“No, it won’t come to that. We will dispose of her long before the Verrak dispatch another assassin. But we’re going to have some fun first.”

“What fun?” Y still did not understand.

“I believe our faithless assassin is beginning to have feelings for the little Earth female,” the Master hissed softly. “Feelings that are just starting to develop. We must nourish those feelings…feed them so that when he loses her, his pain will be all the worse.”

“You prefer to see him in pain rather than to see him dead?” Y asked.

“Indeed. You are very young, Y, but you will learn that some forms of pain are worse than death. In fact, I believe our Verrak assassin has already experienced something of the sort so his heart is guarded now.” The Master gave a hissing laugh. “We must break down the barrier he has built and allow him to care for the girl before she is snatched from him.”

That seemed like needless torture but Y knew better than to object.

“I thought you simply wanted them both dead,” he said neutrally.

“And they will die—but they must suffer first” the Master insisted. “And I will be watching it all and savoring their agony before the end.”

“If you’re done muttering to yourself, tell me what you want to do with the Earth girl,” the witch said, interrupting his conversation with the Master. “She cannot stay in Grandy’s hut, no she can’t! Twill be trouble from the Wulven elders if she’s found bespelled here on my property!”

“Make certain the girl is under our control—that she will do as she has been told to do,” the Master directed. Y repeated his question and the old female nodded quickly.

“Yes, yes—she drank some of Grandy’s special medicine, so she did,” she said, nodding at the cup of green, noxious smelling ooze the Earth female still held in her hand. “And I have a lock of her hair, so I do! She twill do what she’s been told—well, mostly anyway.”

“What do you mean, mostly?” Y asked sternly.

The old female frowned. “Well, she’s a Khalla, so she tis. You can put suggestions into a Khalla’s mind but they don’t always stick. Still, I did my best and so I did. And I have the lock of hair to help when it comes to it.”

“As good as we’re going to get, I suppose,” Master Two sighed in Y’s head. “Very well. Tell her to take the girl someplace else. Someplace…dangerous. Let that fool of an assassin find know exactly how much he cares for her when he realizes what peril she’s in.”

“She must go someplace dangerous,” Y said aloud to the witch. “Where is the most dangerous place on this planet?”

The witch raised her grizzled eyebrows.

“For an unmated female in heat? The Howland that would be. Full of Wulven males closer to their change, so it tis. Of course the chafing shaft will mask her scent some but they’ll find her right enough if she’s put in the middle of them.”

“Perfect!” The Master’s voice was positively gleeful. “Send her there! The Verrak’s pain will be unimaginable when he finds her after the other males have their way with his precious Khalla!”

Y felt a twinge of disgust and some other emotion he could not name when he thought of what the little female would endure.

“Master,” he sub-vocalized. “I still do not understand this—I thought you wanted her dead. Aren’t you taking a chance—even a slim one—that the Verrak will get to her in time and she won’t die?”

“I am counting on him getting to her, you fool!” the Master snapped. “If he’s too late to save her from being ravaged, so much the better. But even if he finds her before that happens, he will know how much he truly cares for her…and his emotions towards her will grow exponentially.”

“But her death—”

“Will come all in good time. The devices this old crone fitted her with will cause no end of pain and trouble and despair. And even if those fail, there is still the suggestion I had her plant in the female’s mind. She will die, either sooner or later and the Verrak will die with her…or another member of his order will finish him off after she is gone. But first he will know how much he cares for her and that he has lost her irrevocably. Which will be extremely entertaining.” He gave a mental yawn. “Which is a good thing. Riding around in your head unable to do anything is most dreadfully boring! I must see to that eventually…”

“Are you ever going to stop muttering to yourself long enough to tell me what to do with the girl?” the witch demanded, frowning at Y. “Even now her male will be looking for her—yes he twill!”

Y felt another twinge as he looked at the Earth girl, still frozen in place. But the Master was to be obeyed, always and forever.

“Fine,” he said stolidly. “Take her to the Howlund.”

“Take her?” The witch looked at him as if he was mad. “I’ll not do that, no I won’t! Grandy See-er can’t expose herself that way—I’ll have to put a scent-blocker spell around my hut, so I will, to keep folks from suspecting me as it tis!”

“She must get there somehow,” Y growled. “It is imperative!”

“Well, I can’t take her…but I can send her.” The witch got a crafty gleam in her faded blue eyes. “She’s bespelled now—she’ll do what she’s told, so she twill!”

“Very well—do it,” Y commanded. “Send her then—and be quick.” He knew his Master wished to savor the Earth female’s pain but he just wanted to get this over with.

Chapter Sixteen

Emily blinked and found herself walking down the middle of a crowded street. No, not a street exactly—almost more of a marketplace. But not a nice, neat farmer’s market like they had at the park in South Tampa on Saturdays—more like some kind of a Middle Eastern bazaar.

The hard packed dirt road was crowded with stalls on either side and the vendors behind them were shouting their wares.

“Palla fruit—get your palla fruit! Ease the change when it comes—the palla gives you ease!”

“Collars to hold, ties to bind. Keep those you love safe—don’t change unrestrained!”

“Scent blankets—get your scent blankets here! A scent that soothes—calm the beast within.”

Emily couldn’t help noticing that all the vendors were male…and then she noticed that all the customers were male too. They were all huge men—as big as Tragar at least—and they all seemed to have bright blue eyes—eyes that glowed when they looked at her.

And more and more of them were looking. Why were they staring at her? For that matter, how had she gotten here in the first place? The last thing she remembered was sitting in the shuttle, feeling bored and wondering how much longer Tragar was going to take. And now…this.

“Where am I? What am I doing here?” Emily muttered to herself. Looking down, she saw she was walking down the dusty road barefoot and she had on only her old blue nightgown which someone had cut holes in.

Wait—that was me. I cut holes in it, didn’t I? But why had she done that?

A closer look answered the question. Her nipples were poking out of the two ragged holes in the silky blue material but they were covered in little silver caps with golden metallic tassels hanging off them. The blue sunlight flashed off them, making it look like her breasts were tipped with fire.

Emily frowned. Well, this didn’t seem right. What was she doing, walking down the middle of a busy street filled with strange men wearing nothing but a thin nighty with her nipples poking out? Why was she…?

Abruptly, the daze she’d been in lifted and she gasped in horror. Oh God, she was walking half naked down a street filled with strange men! Huge, strange men…huge, strange men who were looking at her with lust in their eyes!

It was like every nightmare she’d ever had in her life—every dream of walking through the middle of high school naked—only this time it was real. And from the way the men were beginning to look at her and sniff the air, she was about to be in real trouble if she didn’t get out of there, fast.

The only problem was, she had no idea how she’d gotten there in the first place. And no idea how to get away.

* * * * *

“Where is she? The scent ends here!” Tragar walked in a circle, sniffing the air with increasing desperation. They were deep in the forest and Emily’s scent , so strong just a moment ago, was suddenly gone. “Where is she?” he repeated. “How can she have just disappeared?”

“Just because her scent disappeared doesn’t mean she did.” Xen’dex sounded grim. “I can still smell the witch—she must have covered your Khalla’s scent but she didn’t bother to hide her own. Come on—this way.”

He led the way deeper into the woods and Tragar followed. He was looking alertly as he went, his weapons ready, but inside his gut was churning and his heart was pounding.

Lost her…I lost her, chanted a little voice in his head. She’s in danger…possibly in pain or even dead all because of me—because I didn’t protect her. Because I didn’t keep her safe. Just the way I didn’t keep Jalex and Landra safe.

He tried to push the thoughts to the back of his mind but they wouldn’t go. Guilt and self-loathing filled him like a rush of dirty water, making his jaw tight and his fists clench. Gods, what had he done? How could he have left her alone in the shuttle, especially after the fight they’d had? He should never have let her out of his sight, even for a moment! She was precious…delicate…and in the middle of a change that frightened and upset her. He should never have left her, even for an instant! He should never—

“Here.” Xen’dex was pointing to a dirty little domicile that appeared to be made of mud and sticks. “The witch’s scent leads here.” He started to knock at the wooden door but Tragar was already ramming it open with his shoulder.

Inside it was dark and dank, the air filled with the bitter, dusty scent of dried poison-plants and mold. An old Wulven female with stringy gray hair and a hooked nose was hunched over a cluttered table, counting golden credit coins. She jerked when the door crashed open, her faded blue eyes wide and startled.

“Where is she?” Tragar demanded, striding forward. “What have you done with Emily?”

“What? Grandy See-er doesn’t know what you mean, my Lord!” the old female protested, scrambling to get the golden coins back into a bag with her long, dirty claws.

“Tell me!” Thrace growled, glaring at her. He lifted his head to sniff and nearly retched at the foul odors. Under the dried poison plants and mold was the sharp reek of urine and the smell of an unwashed animal. A sound down by his boots led him to the source of that particular odor—a segmented beast with glowing eyes which was plainly some kind of a pet was hissing at him.

But under all the stench of the cabin—and the rank smell of the unwashed witch which was also none too pleasant—Thrace thought he could catch just a whiff of Emily’s sweetness. She had to be here somewhere—she had to!

“My Lord, please,” the old female wheedled. “I have no one here—no one but my sweet Tatum.” She picked up the hissing animal and stroked its round body segments. “Hush now, Tatum, everything’s well, so it ‘tis.”

“No, it’s not.” Xen’dex stepped up, scowling at her. “Grandy See-er—I might have known you’d be behind this. Anything for a credit, eh? Tell me—what did you do to earn that bag of credit coins you were counting when we came in?”

The faded blue eyes took on a frightened, crafty expression and her cracked voice became suddenly soft and soothing.

“Why, my Lord Xen’dex, how nice to see you. Tis a lovely day for a visit, so it tis. And you don’t want to bother me, do you? You just came to say hello—sure and you did.”

“Your voice tricks won’t work on me, witch,” Xen’dex growled. “Tell us what you’ve done with the young female you found out in the shuttle.”

“A young female?” The faded eyes brightened. “Why now that you mention it, I did meet some such, so I did, as I was on my way back from market. I sold much of my best medicine and made a tidy sum—that’s where the coins came from.”

Tragar paid her no more attention—he was already searching her domicile. Besides the cluttered main room, there was a sleeping area which consisted of a grubby pallet on the floor, strewn untidily with dirty blankets, and a cooking area with a blackened heat-flat in one corner.

On the grease smeared flat was a pot filled with some dark green sludge that made him gag when he sniffed it. There was a bark cup half full of the stuff beside it. He picked it up and looked at it. Then for some reason, he sniffed it again. Under the foul odor was something else—something familiar. It was another faint whiff of Emily’s scent.

She held this cup—possibly drank from it! But what in the Seven Hells is this stuff that she drank?

Tragar carried it into the main area where Xen’dex was still questioning the witch.

“What is this?” he demanded, thrusting the cup in front of her. “I can tell Emily held it—what did you give her? What did it do to her? Where is she?”

For the first time, the old female began to look really scared.

“That’s just my medicine, so it tis!” she protested, backing away.

Xen’dex took the cup, sniffed it, and made a face.

“A medicine made with dark-weed and lyer juice? I don’t think so. What have you done with her? What have you done with the Khalla?”

“Only helped her, like she asked!” the old woman who called herself Grandy See-er protested shrilly. “She didn’t want her nectar to flow, nor her honey neither. So Grandy See-er stopped them, so I did! Gave her my best star-silver nubbin pinchers! Twere most expensive but I gave them for free, from the goodness of my heart!”

“Star-silver!” Xen’dex looked so grim that Tragar demanded,

“What? What is it?”

The other male looked troubled.

“So many Beast Kindred have settled here and bred with the Wulven in the past thirty cycles that several Khalla have been born. It was one reason I came here—to offer my expertise. Because the Wulven didn’t understand what was happening and some tried to stop the process—to halt the Tenrah in its tracks.”

“Well, you can slow it down some, right?” Tragar asked. “That is what you taught us.”

“Yes, but stopping it completely is incredibly dangerous. This metal—this star-silver she’s talking about—will do that. It’s a natural hormonal retardant. But if it isn’t removed in time…”

Tragar felt sick. “What? What happens?” he made himself ask.

His old master sighed deeply.

“If it isn’t removed in time, the Khalla may die.”

“She won’t die of the star-silver, so she won’t,” Grandy See-er said. Her face broke into a crafty smile. “Though she might have a hard time surviving where she went.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Tragar demanded.

“Why—I’m only talking about the direction she was headed when she and I parted ways,” the old female protested. “Twas none of my doing—I tried to warn her. But she wouldn’t hear anything I said—so stubborn she was!”

“Where?” Tragar wanted to shake her. “Where did she go? Tell me, Goddess damn you!”

The witch gave him a wide-eyed innocent look.

“Why…to the Howlund, my Lord. Leastways, that’s where she was headed when last I saw her.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Hello, little female—are you lost?”

The voice from behind her made Emily jump and gasp in surprise. She whirled around, putting an arm over her ridiculously capped nipples and stared up at a tall, muscular male with piercing blue eyes and a smirk on his face. She was lost actually—completely lost. But somehow she didn’t think asking him directions would be a good idea.

“Um…I’m fine.” Slowly, she began to back away, only to bump into something hard and warm.

“What’s your hurry, little female?” another deep voice rumbled behind her.

“Leave me alone,” she managed to say, though her mouth was so dry it was hard to talk. The bright blue sunlight beat down on her, making the whole scene seem horribly surreal but she knew she couldn’t afford to believe this was all just a really vivid nightmare. Thinking like that would get her killed…or worse.

“We would, but clearly you don’t want to be left alone.” There was a third voice now—another male was closing in, cutting off her escape route.

“Jey’s right,” said the first male. “If you wanted to be left alone, why would you come to the Howlund just at this time dressed like that and smelling so hot? I think you want to try love with a changed one—is that right, little female? You want to rut with a male in his fur-form?”

“Or maybe with the whole pack,” rumbled one of the others and all of them exploded into coarse, deep laughter that set Emily’s teeth on edge.

The Howlund—they said the Howland. Where have I heard that before? Suddenly she remembered—it was something Tragar had said. And hadn’t he said it was someplace dangerous? Someplace she shouldn’t go? If not, that was still the idea she had gotten.

So how did I get here all by myself with these weird things on my nipples? Emily asked herself desperately. And what in the world is inside me? Because she could feel something hard and cold and heavy in her channel—it shifted uncomfortably every time she moved.

Then a big, hot hand fell on her shoulder and she knew that it didn’t matter how she’d gotten there or what else was going on—right now she needed to concentrate on getting out.

Emily shrugged off the hand and tried to bite back the frightened squeak that wanted to pass her lips as the three males got closer, forming a triangle around her. Oh God, this was horrible—she was being surrounded!

“What is that?” she gasped, pointing into the sky. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

The trick might’ve been straight out of a silly, slapstick comedy but it worked—all three men looked at the same time.

Heart pounding, Emily turned and dived under the arm of the first man who had opened his arms as though to catch her or maybe keep her from running. He let out a curse that sounded more like a snarl and Emily was sure he was coming after her. In fact, she was sure all of them were but she understood instinctively that she didn’t dare to look back even for an instant—any delay might get her caught.

Not that she could outrun them for long—they all had incredibly long legs and she was running barefoot and didn’t know where she was going. But she had to try. Dodging around other shoppers and vendors alike, she tried to get to the edge of the crowded market place. She just had to get away. She had to—

Suddenly someone was right in front of her and though she tried to dodge, Emily couldn’t miss them. She hit hard, nearly bowling the person over but somehow they stood their ground and didn’t go down. There was a brief, blurred confusion of limbs and then someone was grabbing her arm and hissing in her ear,

“What are you doing out here like this, Sister? Has the madness taken you to behave so?”

Emily was prepared to fight but the feminine tones took her by surprise. She looked up and saw a girl with black hair and blue eyes looking at her with a frown on her face. Then the pert nose wrinkled and the blue eyes widened.

“Khalla!” breathed the girl. And without warning, she thrust Emily behind her back.

In front of them, the three males who had been chasing her came skidding to a stop. Emily stared at them fearfully but the girl who had grabbed her stood tall in front of her, glaring them down.

“Jey…Zeth…Tirn,” she said, frowning up at them all in turn. “What are you doing, bothering this poor female?”

“We weren’t bothering her—she came to us,” protested the first man.

“Stand aside, Saskia,” growled the second. “She’s an unmated female out in the Howlund just before the change. You know the law—she’s fair game.”

“Yes, if she came here of her own volition.” The girl glared at them, not moving. “But she was running from you—I don’t think she meant to be here at all.”

“She’s right,” Emily spoke up, wishing her voice sounded stronger. “I don’t know how I got here but I certainly didn’t come looking for, uh, anything. I just want to go home.”

“There, you see?” the girl demanded, frowning up at the huge males. “She’s not here a-purpose and she doesn’t want the likes of you three. So be off now and leave her alone!”

“But she smells hot,” protested the third male. “She must be in heat!”

“That doesn’t mean she wants you to breed her, Tirn,” the girl snapped. “Now get you gone! All of you!”

Grumbling and looking like a pack of scolded dogs with their tails between their legs, the three trudged off in the direction they’d come from.

The moment they were gone, the girl called Saskia grabbed Emily by the arm and started marching her to the edge of the market area.

“Thank you so much,” Emily babbled. “I was in so much trouble—I don’t know how I got here or how to get back.”

“Back to your chosen mate, you mean?” Saskia eyed her. “Why did he let you come to the Howlund at this time of month?”

“He didn’t—I told you, I don’t know how I got here. And I don’t really have a chosen mate anyway,” Emily protested.

The girl’s dainty nose wrinkled again.

“Must be why I don’t scent a male on you. In fact, I care barely even smell your Khalla scent. How did you mute it? I mean, it’s a good thing you did or you’d have had the whole Howland after you instead of just three hungry Wulven but it’s still strange.”

“I don’t know—I didn’t know it was, uh, muted.” Emily was having to trot fast to keep up with her, the cold metal thing moving awkwardly inside her with each step. “I can’t smell it myself,” she offered.

“Of course not—it’s your scent. It’s natural to you.” Saskia shot her a glance. “Look, my mate is a Beast Kindred and an expert on your kind. I’ll bespeak him now and take you to him.”

“But I have to get back to Tragar—back to the shuttle,” Emily protested.

Saskia frowned. “I thought you said you had no mate.”

“I don’t—Tragar’s not my mate. He’s just…helping me out until I can get this whole mess sorted out.”

“The mess being your Tenrah, I take it?”

“Yes, exactly.” Emily nodded. “So you know all about it too—the Tenrah, all the stages…?”

“Of course.” Saskia nodded as though it was common knowledge. Well, maybe it was, here.

Emily had a sudden thought.

“You’re not a Khalla are you?”

“Me?” Saskia gave a short laugh. “No, but I’ve known one. My dearest friend, actually.”

“Really?” Emily asked eagerly. “Does she live around here? Could I meet her?”

Saskia’s face was suddenly closed.

“No, you can’t.” she said shortly.

“Oh…” Emily was crestfallen. “It just…this is all so new to me. And I thought if I could meet someone who’s already gone through it—”

“You can’t meet her because she’s dead.” Saskia looked away and for a moment Emily had the idea she might be fighting tears. But when she looked back, her face was smooth and calm again. “I’m sorry. I still miss her.”

“Of course.” Emily nodded, feeling miserable. She felt bad for Saskia but she also felt bad for herself. Now she felt like she couldn’t ask any more questions about Khalla or Tenrah or the stages or any of it. And she so would have liked to talk to another woman about what she was going through—especially one who knew about it first hand!

She sighed. How was it that everyone she met seemed to know more about the mysterious process that was overtaking her body than she did herself? Even the old woman…Emily frowned. Wait, what old woman? In her mind’s eye a vision swam into view for an instant—a sweet old lady holding something in her hand, something silver.

Something to help with my Tenrah—something to stop the nectar from flowing from my breasts…right?

As soon as the vision appeared, it was gone but it gave Emily at least some idea of why she was wearing the weird metal pasties on her nipples and the strange, heavy thing inside her. Thinking of that made her aware that her breasts felt full and very heavy—almost painfully so. What was going on with her? Well, other than her body trying its level best to turn her into someone completely different that was…

“Here—this should be safe.” Saskia had pulled her to the edge of the market place area and around the back side of a cloth tent. She paused for a moment and closed her eyes, a look of deep concentration coming over her face.

Emily tried not to stare, though she wondered what was going on. The other girl almost looked as though she was talking to someone—but talking with her mind? She’d heard rumors that such things were possible with Kindred but she’d never actually seen it happen.

She also had a moment to realize how completely strange and out of place she looked next to her new friend. Saskia was wearing a pretty blue dress with an empire waistline that fell modestly to the ground. It had a tight, pencil-type skirt but a slit in the middle allowed her to move freely. The neckline was a deep V which showed a hint of creamy cleavage and framed a lovely greenish-blue stone pendant shaped like some kind of flower. Neat little blue slippers completed her outfit, making her look fashionable and pretty.

Emily couldn’t help contrasting her own appearance. She was barefoot and still wearing her old blue nighty which by now was dirty and stained. Plus, her nipples in their obscene silver caps with the gold tassels were still sticking out of the ragged holes in the front. Emily would have tried to take them off if she wasn’t still in public. As bizarre as they were, they were still better than poking her bare breasts out for anyone and everyone to see.

God, I just want to get someplace private and get all this weird stuff off of me—and out of me! Then I want a really hot shower and a change of clothes—something nice and pretty or at least something decent that doesn’t look like it came straight out of a porno!

But more than anything else, she wanted all of this to be over so she could just go home. If she could just get her stupid body to cooperate—

Just then Saskia opened her eyes and looked up, breaking her train of thought.

“It’s all right—my mate is already on his way here with your male.” She raised one dark eyebrow. “Apparently they know each other.”

“Is your husband…er mate…Tragar’s old teacher?” Emily asked.

“I think so. Though I didn’t think to meet the likes of your male.” Saskia looked troubled. “Xen’dex sent me away so I wouldn’t.”

“Why?” Emily shifted uncomfortably, wishing the thing inside her wasn’t so heavy and that her breasts didn’t ache so. She plucked at the ragged nightgown, trying to shift it around to hide the silver nipple covers she was wearing.

“Well, because…” Saskia looked uncomfortable. “I do not wish to speak ill of your male but my mate said he was, well…one of the Verrak.”

“He is an assassin if that’s what you mean,” Emily said.

Saskia looked at her in obvious shock.

“Can you speak so lightly of it then? Do you not know what the Verrak are capable of? They are the most ruthless, deadly killers in this galaxy or any other! Tis said they take a vow to either kill their target or kill themselves if they fail.”

“What?” Emily frowned at her. “You can’t be serious—that’s crazy.”

Saskia shrugged her slim shoulders.

“That’s their way. It ensures that they never fail to kill their intended victim. They are bound by an oath and by the markings on their arm.”

Emily began to feel really uneasy. Now that Saskia mentioned it, she remembered the elaborate tattoo that covered Tragar’s right arm from shoulder to wrist. What had he called it? A nash? A narch? Something like that, anyway.

“Well, just because Tragar’s an assassin doesn’t mean he’s all bad,” she said, trying to make herself believe it. “He’s committed to helping me through this…through the Tenrah, I mean.” Although at times he didn’t seem very happy about it. And he was only helping because his biology forced him to—or so he’d said. But could it be he was planning to kill her after all? Especially if his only other option was to kill himself?

Emily was pulled out of her uneasy contemplation by a loud shout from their left. Her head jerked up and she saw Tragar and an older male Beast Kindred with iron gray hair coming toward them, out of the forest that abutted the market area.

“Here they are!” Saskia’s voice held a mixture of relief and distrust and Emily saw she was eyeing Tragar with barely concealed fear. It was hard to believe she was so upset—Emily had just seen the Wulven girl face down three huge, horny males without a flicker of fright, yet now she looked scared to death of Tragar.

Well, maybe she’s right to be scared of him, whispered a little voice in Emily’s brain. After all, what do you know about him except what he’s told you? Can you really trust him just because he says he wants to help you?

Before she could answer the troubling questions, she looked up and saw Tragar looking at her. When they locked eyes, the big Kindred began to run—jogging towards her as though he couldn’t get to her fast enough.

Saskia stepped back quickly but he didn’t even throw a glance in her direction—all his attention was centered on Emily and the look on his face was fierce and terrible to behold.

Oh God, he’s mad at me! He probably thinks I got out of the shuttle and went wandering around on my own for fun because I wanted to go sightseeing! He’s going to shout at me or shake me—I just know it!

She wanted to run but it was too late—Tragar was there, his golden eyes glowing hot.

“Tragar, I’m sorry! I don’t know what—”

“Come here.” He reached for her and Emily tried to cringe away, afraid of the unchecked emotion she saw in his burning eyes.

But she couldn’t elude him. Tragar grabbed her. Instead of shaking or shouting at her, though, he dragged her to him, crushing her in a hug that was almost panicky-tight.

Emily gasped as he enfolded her in those flexible-steel arms.

“Thought I’d lost you,” he growled in her ear and was there a sob buried in his low rumbling voice? Surely not! Emily could see why he would be angry with her for getting lost on a strange planet but she was certain she didn’t mean so much to him that he’d actually be upset if something happened to her. Well, other than the fact that it would hurt his Kindred pride and he would have failed in his self-imposed mission to get her safely to Rageron. But as for personal emotion and genuine affection—no, she must be imagining it.

Still, she couldn’t help pressing her face to his broad shoulder and breathing him in. The warm scent of his skin smelled like safety to her—safety and protection and home. Which was ridiculous, of course.

The big Kindred hugged her tighter.

“Thought you were gone,” he muttered into her hair. “Can’t lose you, too.”

Emily had no idea what he meant by that but it was getting hard to get a good deep breath with those muscular arms wrapped around her so tightly.

“Tragar,” she gasped, pushing uselessly against his broad chest. “Can’t…breathe.”

“Forgive me. Did I hurt you?” He released her and held her out at arms length, looking into her face.

Emily stared up at him. Were there tears standing in his golden eyes? Was he almost about to cry he was so worried about her?

But the next minute, the idea was shattered. His face grew hard and cold and he scowled at her angrily.

“Never do that again! Never wander off on your own on a strange world!” He shook her—just once but fiercely enough that her teeth clicked together.

“I didn’t mean to!” she protested. “I…I don’t even know how I got out of the shuttle! I barely remember anything until I was suddenly in the middle of a crowded street surrounded by strange men!”

“Gods! Did they hurt you? Did they touch you?” He stared at her anxiously.

“No, I…no.” Emily shook her head. “Saskia found me before anything could happen.”

“Thank the Goddess!” He crushed her to him again, briefly, then pulled back and glared at her. “This is what comes of leaving when I told you not to! The Howlund is the worst place you could have gone!”

“I didn’t go there on purpose!” she objected. “I just found myself there.”

“Just found yourself there?” He cursed—a deep angry, guttural word that the translation bacteria didn’t seem to be able to translate.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, getting angry herself. “I didn’t think you’d care so much if something bad happened to me. I mean, you’re only helping me because you have to, right? Isn’t that what you told me?”

“You think I don’t care? Damn it, Emily—I care! You’ve made me fucking care—whether I want to or not!” The words came out in a roar and she couldn’t help flinching back from the anger and anguish in his face.

Could it be that he really did care about her? It seemed so but it was also obvious he wasn’t very happy about it. In fact, it almost seemed like he blamed her for making him care for her. As if she’d done it on purpose somehow.

“Tragar, take it easy on the little female.” The older male Beast Kindred had reached them now and put his arm around Saskia’s waist. “We know the voice-witch drugged her and she probably bespelled her as well. I’m certain she didn’t leave the safety of the shuttle of her own volition.”

“You said the witch could only bespell you if she told you what you wanted to hear,” Tragar growled. “Obviously Emily here wanted to hear that she could get away from the shuttle and do whatever she wanted.”

“No, she told me she could stop the Tenrah and all the embarrassing things that go with it!” Emily shouted at him.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought you didn’t remember anything.”

“I didn’t…I don’t…” Emily swayed as another image of the kindly old lady invaded her brain. “Oh my God…” She put a hand to her head, feeling dizzy. “I remember now—Grandy…Grandy See-something. She helped me…I think.”

“Whatever she did to you, it wasn’t to help,” the older male said grimly.

“Xen’dex is right.” Tragar held her by the shoulders. “What did she do to you? Can you remember?”

“I remember she seemed really nice. And she had a pet that was half cat and half caterpillar. And she gave me some, uh…um…”

“Some what?” Tragar urged.

Emily coughed. “Some things to, uh, wear.” She bit her lip and looked at Saskia and the older Beast Kindred uncomfortably. More and more was coming back to her—such as where she’d gotten the weird nipple clamps and the heavy thing inside her—but she really didn’t want to discuss the bizarre memories in front of strangers.

Saskia seemed to understand her problem.

“Come, Xen’dex…” She tugged at her mate’s arm. “There’s something I want to show you, just over here.”

With a lingering look at Emily that made her face feel hot, the older male nodded and allowed himself to be led a little ways away. Once she was sure they were out of earshot, Emily looked back at Tragar.

“She gave me these.” She had shifted her nightgown to try and cover the strange metal nipple covers but now she shifted it back, allowing the silver thimbles with their golden chain tassels to come into view through the ragged holes.

Tragar looked grim.

“If that’s star-silver, you’ve got to take them off at once,” he growled. “That stuff is dangerous—Xen’dex says so.”

“She told me it would stop the flow of my nectar,” Emily said, frowning. “And you know what? Since I put them on, I haven’t, uh, leaked at all.” Although she had to admit her breasts felt awfully full and achy.

“Xen’dex has some clamps that will do the same thing and won’t hurt you in the process,” Tragar said, frowning.

“But will they stop the Tenrah from advancing? Because that’s what Grandy See-er promised me these would do.” She nodded down at the silver nipple caps.

“It’s not safe to stop it completely!” Tragar protested. “You can delay it but halting it totally is dangerous.”

“I don’t know about that. I—” Suddenly a wave of dizziness came over her, causing her to sway.

“Emily?” Tragar tightened his grip on her arms and looked at her anxiously. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, I’m fine. Just hungry,” she murmured.

It had been hours since her last meal with Tragar which had consisted of some kind of protein travel bars he apparently lived on when he was on the job and hunting a target. Emily could feel her stomach growling—which was probably why she felt so faint all of a sudden.

She took a deep breath and tried to straighten up. Okay, get a grip, she lectured herself. You’re just tired. Everything is going to be just f—

Then her breasts began to ache fiercely and another wave of dizziness hit her. With a low cry, she collapsed into Tragar’s arms.

Chapter Eighteen

“What’s wrong with her? Is she all right?”

“It must be the star-silver—it’s poisoning her. Those pinchers need to come off!”

“She’s very sensitive just now. I don’t know how that would affect her—or how much it might hurt.”

Emily’s eyelids fluttered and she looked up to see three anxious faces peering down at her. One of them was Tragar’s, and the other was the older male Kindred and Saskia.

“What? Where…where am I?” She tried to sit up but Tragar held her down gently but firmly.

“Rest a minute—you’ve been out for a while,” he growled softly.

“For a while?” Emily echoed. She looked around and saw she was lying on a strange, high bed with a canopy overhead. Only the canopy wasn’t cloth—it was made of green and blue and purple vines twined together to make a living covering. There were small pink and red buds on some of the vines which gave out a sweet, spicy fragrance that made her want to sneeze. “What is this place?” she whispered.

“You’re in my guest chamber.” Saskia smiled at her and then cast a wary glance at Tragar. “In the bed my grandmere grew for me. You and your, uh, male are welcome to stay here for as long as you are ill.”

“I’m ill?” Emily felt a surge of panic. “What’s wrong with me? Why did I faint?”

“These damn things…” Tragar nodded down at the silver metal tips on her nipples which were once again poking out of her nightgown in a very embarrassing way. “They need to come off.”

“But the nectar,” Emily protested. “The pinchers are all that’s keeping it from flowing! They’re keeping me from moving on to the next stage.” She was certain of this although why exactly she felt so strongly about it she couldn’t have said. Actually, her breasts ached fiercely and they seemed to have gotten even bigger while she was out but still, a voice inside her told her she didn’t want to take off the strange silver clamps.

“You cannot stop the flow completely.” The older male Kindred who had to be Xen’dex was looking at her sternly. “It will kill you, Khalla. You must remove the star-silver clamps or allow Tragar to take them off for you.”

“But…”

“No buts, Emily,” Tragar growled. “They must come off—they are endangering your life.”

“Fine.” It seemed she was outnumbered. Though she still had a strong internal feeling that the pinchers needed to stay on, she could see she wasn’t going to be allowed to keep them. “Fine,” she said again. “But I’m not taking them off here in front of God and everybody. Is there a bathroom around here?” She looked at Saskia pleadingly. “And could I get a shower? I really need one.”

“Of course.” The other girl smiled at her warmly. “You have the full hospitality of our domicile. The bathing chamber is just over there.” She nodded at a tall, oval doorway across the room which seemed to be covered by a hanging curtain of vines.

“Thank you.” Emily sat up with a little difficulty and took a deep breath.

“You’re weak right now—I’ll come with you,” Tragar said.

“I can manage on my own.” She shot him a glare. He was making her do this—making her take off the only things that were standing between her and the awful change that was consuming her body bit by bit. That, plus the way he’d shouted at her when he first found her meant she wasn’t exactly feeling very friendly towards him right now.

Of course he also hugged you so hard your ribs still ache from it and nearly cried he was so glad to get you back, whispered a little voice in the back of her head. But Emily pushed it away. She was a little shaky when she stood but she managed to get off the high side of the bed without falling.

“See? I’m fine,” she said and ruined it by stumbling. “Oops!”

“Emily—” He tried to catch her arm but she had already righted herself and she eluded his big hand.

“I’m okay—I’m fine,” she repeated stubbornly.

The big Kindred looked like he was going to take her arm and help her whether she wanted him to or not but Saskia stepped forward.

“Let me go with you, Sister, and show you how our bathing facilities work,” she said tactfully, smiling at Emily.

Emily smiled gratefully back.

“All right, thank you. That would be nice.”

Ignoring the look Tragar was giving her, she allowed the Wulven girl to take her arm and lead her through the hanging blue and green vines and into the bathroom.

* * * * *

“Well, at least she’s back,” Xen’dex said as the two females disappeared into the bathing area together.

“True, but she doesn’t seem very happy about it.” Tragar stared after her morosely. He wanted to help her—wanted to shield and protect and hold her, especially after almost losing her to the witch. Also, he was still terribly worried about those damn star-silver things she was wearing clamped to her nipples. But it seemed Emily wanted nothing to do with him—not that he could blame her after he’d shouted at her and shook her. But he’d been so worried, damn it! So certain that he’d lost her!

“Don’t take it too hard, Tragar.” Xen’dex was watching him sharply and he wondered how many of his thoughts his old master could read on his face. He tried to keep his expression blank but Xen’dex had always had an uncanny ability to know what his students were thinking.

“I’m not,” he said shortly. “I’m just thinking that she seems strangely reluctant to take off those damn things even after we explained they could kill her.”

“That would be the witch’s doing,” Xen’dex said, frowning. “She’s probably placed some kind of suggestion in the Khalla’s mind about how she shouldn’t take them off. I told you if she bespelled her it could have far reaching consequences.”

“Could that be why she’s so angry at me, too?” Tragar asked.

“No—that my friend, is your fault.” Xen’dex shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” Tragar paced up and down the small room, being careful to avoid the living bed with its canopy of vines and flowers. “I shouldn’t have shouted at her—it’s inexcusable to treat a Khalla so.”

“It is inexcusable to treat any female so,” Xen’dex corrected gently. “But that is not what I am speaking of. Did you truly tell her, as you told me, that you were only helping her and seeing her safely to Rageron because you had to—because of the biological imperative of our kind to protect a Khalla?”

“Well…” Tragar shifted uncomfortably. Suddenly he felt like he was fifteen cycles old again, being called out before the rest of the class for a wrong answer. “Yes,” he said at last. “I did say something like that to her when I first brought her aboard my ship.”

“And you wonder why she feels angry with you and thinks you do not care?” Xen’dex said quietly.

“I care for her,” Tragar protested. “That is…I wish to protect her and see her safely to the Holy Mountains.”

“You wish more than that for her.” Xen’dex gave him another piercing look. “It is time you stopped lying—both to yourself and to Emily. A Khalla needs more than just protection, Tragar. She needs love.”

Tragar turned away.

“That I cannot offer her. My love died ten cycles ago with Jalex and Landra. And even if it had not, I am not her chosen mate.”

“Tragar…” Xen’dex put a hand on his arm. “What happened to your family—”

“Was my own fault.” Tragar shook off his old teacher’s hand and looked at him grimly. “Entirely mine. But I will not allow another in my care to come to harm. I will get Emily to the Holy Mountains before another stage of her Tenrah passes. There she will find someone worthy of her. Someone other than me.”

Xen’dex looked at him for a long time and then nodded.

“Very well—if that is the way you wish it.”

“I do,” Tragar said shortly but his heart was sore as he spoke the words and he found he couldn’t meet his old master’s eyes.

* * * * *

“Wow, this is some bathroom!” Emily looked around herself in amazement. Everything in the bathroom seemed to be alive. The sink and the toilet—which was high and square—seemed to have been grown rather than made. They were smooth, black wood with the same blue and green vines draped around them that hung in the doorway. There was another curtain of vines—this time purple and pink ones—which shielded the shower area.

“I’m glad you like it. The shower is modeled after the ones they have on Rageron—my mate disliked our mode of bathing and insisted on his own.”

Saskia swept the purple and pink vines aside and stroked a smooth black square just inside the large shower stall. At once a chute opened up near the top of the ceiling and a rush of warm, sweet-smelling, clear turquoise water poured out. Emily thought it looked like a miniature water fall and longed to get in it at once—she didn’t know when she’d needed a shower so badly.

Of course, she’d had a brief shower back on Tragar’s ship but that seemed like ages ago. Since then she’d been cooped up in the stuffy shuttle, a guest in Grandy See-er’s rather cluttered hovel, and running up and down a hot, dusty street being chased by a bunch of horny alien men. She felt grimy and sticky and thoroughly disgusting.

“The controls are here.” Saskia patted the smooth black wall panel just inside the shower. “They’re very sensitive so tis best to use a light touch. Swipe left to make the water hotter, right to make it cooler. Swipe up to release foam to cleanse your hair and body and down to turn the water off completely.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Emily said gratefully. “Um…should I just get in then? I mean…” She didn’t know how to ask for privacy but she really didn’t want to strip in front of the other girl. No matter how nice and friendly Saskia seemed, she was still basically a stranger and Emily, being a plus sized girl, had more than her share of body image issues.

Once again, Saskia seemed to know what the problem was.

“You seem fine so I’ll step out and give you some privacy,” she said tactfully. “But please call out for me if you need help—I don’t mind.”

“All right. Thank you.” Emily smiled at her as the other girl left, brushing aside the vine-curtain briefly to get out. As soon as Saskia was gone, she quickly stripped and stepped into the flow of the warm, clear turquoise water.

For a long moment she just enjoyed it rushing over her in a long, rippling waterfall. It felt wonderful and warm—like an ocean wave caressing her. In fact, it was hands down the best shower she’d ever had in her life except for the fact that her breasts were throbbing painfully where the water hit them.

That reminded her that she had yet to try removing the silver nipple caps. Should she? Everyone seemed to think it was so important yet she was still strangely reluctant to do it.

But there’s no way they’ll let me keep wearing them—especially not Tragar. She thought of the stern look in his golden eyes…and that thought led to the memory of him holding her so gently and squeezing her nipples…the tender way he’d licked the droplets of nectar from her breasts…

Stop it! she told herself. You’re supposed to be mad at him, remember? But for some reason, under the warm, rushing waterfall, it was harder to hold on to her resentment. All the anger and doubt and irritation seemed to just float away in her delicious enjoyment of the shower. But she couldn’t stand there enjoying herself forever.

Emily looked down at the silver caps on her nipples and sighed.

Well, guess it’s time to try and take these off…

Gingerly, remembering how much it had hurt to put them on, she stepped a little way out of the water and took the right silver cap with its long golden tassel between her thumb and forefinger.

Now, there should be a hinge somewhere…didn’t Grandy See-er squeeze them to open them up? She seemed to remember something like that although her memory of her visit with the kindly old lady was still strangely dim and foggy. She also didn’t question how she’d gotten from Grandy’s cottage to the middle of the Howlund—it simply didn’t seem important right now. I’ll think about it later. Right now I have to get these off.

Carefully, she squeezed the silver cap, trying to make it pop open.

Immediately, a bolt of agony ran through her—much worse than anything she’d felt before. It felt like someone was slicing through her tender nipple with a red hot knife.

With a muffled scream, she snatched her hand away and stepped backwards, almost as if she could get away from the pain by distancing herself from her own body. Her elbow went back, knocking against the black wall panel that controlled the shower and sliding over its slick surface in a half hazard fashion.

Immediately she was covered in a mountain of thick, pale blue foam which came pouring out like an avalanche to cover her from head to toe.

“Oh!” she gasped and got bubbles in her mouth and up her nose. They tasted like a mouthful of soapy flowers and there was more and more coming all the time.

Coughing and choking, Emily scrabbled at the black square, trying to stop the mountains of foam that were still pouring out. The whole stall was filling up with alarming rapidity and she was afraid she might suffocate in the billowy blue mess.

The foam stopped when she swiped, replaced by a drenching rain of freezing water that took her breath away. Emily couldn’t even scream this time—she was too shocked as a deluge of what felt like ice water poured over her. Reaching for the panel once more, she tried to turn the cold water off, only to be drenched in more foam—this time purple. A third swipe resulted in water so hot it melted the foam instantly—and felt like it might melt the skin right off her body at the same time.

With a shriek, Emily jumped back. Cornered at the back of the stall, away from the lava-hot waterfall from hell, she huddled in a ball in the half-melted foam, trying not to touch her breasts which were throbbing and aching miserably. So much for the best shower she had ever had! Now she just wanted to cry!

“Emily? Emily?”

The low, familiar voice filled her with shame. Oh, no—she really didn’t want Tragar to see her completely naked! It was bad enough that he’d seen so much of her when she was only wearing her nighty—but that at least hid her stomach and thighs. Body image issues rose up to crowd her mind and she gathered as much of the melting blue and purple foam around herself as she could before answering him.

“I’m fine. Just…the water got a little hot is all.”

He stuck his head in the shower and put a hand in the steaming waterfall before drawing back with a hiss.

“A little hot?” Quickly he did something to the panel and then felt the water again. “All right—that’s more like it. Come rinse off.”

“No.” Emily stayed stubbornly at the back of the stall. “You leave first.”

“Not until I’m certain you’re all right.” He frowned at her. “Come here, Emily—let me be certain you’re not burned.”

The commanding tone of his voice couldn’t be disobeyed. Reluctantly, she rose and stepped forward into the water which was now barely tepid. She turned her back to him and rinsed away the foam but Tragar wasn’t to be denied. He was half in the shower with her now, staying mostly out of the flow of the water though he didn’t seem to care very much if he got wet.

“Let me see you,” he said, a little more gently. “Please, Emily—I just want to be sure you’re all right.”

“I don’t want to.” She could hear the tears in her own voice but couldn’t seem to stop them. “Please, Tragar, just leave me alone!”

“I can’t do that. Not until I know you’re not hurt.” His voice became gentler still. “What is it, Khalla? I’ve already seen and tasted your breasts—why are you afraid to let me see you now?”

“It’s just…” Years of unhappiness with her body rose in her until she almost couldn’t breathe. “It’s just that I’m not someone you really want to see naked,” she finished in a defiant voice that still wavered just a little with tears. “I’m not exactly thin, you know?”

“I know—you have ripe, luscious curves.” He put a hand on her shoulder, turning her gently around. “You’re what the Twin Kindred call an ‘Elite’—a female the Goddess has blessed with a fuller figure than most.”

Emily gave a little laugh that was almost half sob.

“Seriously? Well, I guess that’s a nice way to put it.”

“It’s the only way to put it.” His golden eyes roamed over her hungrily. “And besides, all Khalla are shaped as you are. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your curves or try to hide them.” He nodded at her arms, which were still crossed gingerly over her chest, hiding the silver nipple caps. “Now, what happened with the water? Were you trying to boil yourself alive?”

“No. I was trying to get these off.” Reluctantly, she dropped her arms, revealing that she still had the silver pinchers on. She was glad that the metal dildo-like thing Grandy had given her to wear was safely hidden inside her—she really didn’t want him seeing that part of her as well.

“Won’t they come off?” He frowned in concern.

“Not for me, anyway.” Emily sighed. “I seem to remember that they hurt a lot going on. But that’s nothing to what it felt like when I tried to take them off.”

The big Kindred swiped the water off and reached for a towel. “Come—let’s get you dry so I can have a look.”

Emily stepped, shivering, out onto a green and blue vine bathmat and saw that the towel he was holding out for her seemed to be made of a hundred thousand tiny pink and orange flowers which had somehow been woven together into a rectangular piece of fabric.

“What are those?” she asked uncertainly. “Uh—how can flowers dry me off?”

“They’re water-mouth blossoms,” Tragar rumbled patiently. “They’ll suck away any moisture they find. Come…let me dry you.”

Still feeling incredibly self conscious, but not quite as bad as she had before about being naked around him, Emily raised her arms slightly and allowed him to wrap the strange pink and orange flower-towel around her body.

At once, she felt a light, feathery sensation as though a million tiny mouths were sucking at the moisture left by the shower. It didn’t hurt at all but it did feel strange and a little tickly.

“Oh!” she looked down at herself but the towel didn’t seem to be doing any harm. In fact, as soon as she was dry, the tickling sensation stopped and it felt like any other towel. Well, if a towel had been made out of cool, waxy petals that was. Again, not uncomfortable but not exactly what she was used to either.

“Come into the sleeping chamber where the light is better,” Tragar said. “Let me see if I can get those damn things off you.”

He held the vine curtain aside and she stepped into the room and went to sit on the high bed which seemed to have a coverlet much like the towel only this one was made of larger, white blossoms with green centers. Emily didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed it earlier—probably she’d still been disoriented from fainting.

She still felt hungry but not nearly as lightheaded now. The shower had certainly woken her up and she did feel refreshed—although she could have done without the avalanche of foam and the freezing and scalding water at the end.

“Now, come…” Tragar sank to his knees before her, just as he had back on his own ship, and gently parted her towel, baring her breasts.

Emily caught her bottom lip between her teeth when she saw how much bigger her breasts had grown. Pretty soon there wouldn’t be a bra anywhere that would fit her! And they ached so much. Though the little voice inside her was still insisting she needed to keep the silver nipple caps on, she began to feel that it really was time to take them off. If they would come off, that was.

“Please, be careful,” she said when he reached for her with his big hands. “I…it hurt so much when I even tried to get it off. I…I’m just so tender right now.”

“I know you are, my Khalla.” His deep, rumbling voice was gentle as he cupped her full breasts in his hands, being careful not to touch the nipples just yet. “I believe that is because your nectar is ready to flow but the star-silver pinchers are keeping it in.”

Emily shook her head.

“But I don’t want it to flow. I’m afraid to let it flow.”

“Change is always hard,” Tragar murmured. “But you cannot stop it from happening, Emily. The nectar must flow.”

“But I don’t want to be pumping out that weird honey-looking stuff like a fountain,” she objected as he took the first nipple cap between his thumb and finger very gently. “I’ll be leaking and making a mess everywhere and my nightgown is already ruined!”

“Xen’dex has some special clothing you can wear to help with that,” he assured her. “I’m going to try and take this one off now, Emily.”

“All right.” Resolutely, she looked away, not wanting to see what he was doing. It was the same way she refused to watch the nurse stick her when she got a shot or had a blood draw. “But how is special clothing going to help?” she continued, talking to keep herself from thinking of the impending pain. “I mean, are there cups in it to collect the stuff or what?”

“No, a Khalla’s nectar is meant to flow and bless whatever it lands on.” Tragar sounded distracted, as though he was concentrating hard on the task at hand, but he still answered her. “On Rageron, a Khalla in her second stage will often be taken to local farms that her flowing nectar may bless the crops. It’s said that ground which has absorbed the nectar of a Khalla is twice as fertile and will yield more abundantly than any other.”

“So…she’s like some kind of weird traveling fertility goddess? Walking around, just leaking all over the crops?” Emily didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“Not exactly. The Khalla is a physical manifestation of the Goddess in her most perfect form. Her touch is healing and her honey and nectar are the essence of fruitfulness and life.”

“That’s nice I guess,” Emily said doubtfully. “But will I have to do that once we get to Rageron? I mean, I know you’ve seen me, uh, without a top on. But I really don’t want to go all around in front of a bunch of strange farmers so I can water their crops with my, uh, nectar.”

She had a mental image of a bunch of men in overalls and pitchforks who nodded sagely and watched as she squirted the amber-honey looking liquid over their cornfields, using her breasts like some kind of weird water guns.

But Tragar was shaking his head—she could see it from the corner of her eye.

“No—you won’t be required to do so. And you may be through the second stage before we get there.” He sounded a little grim. “It would be better if you stayed in Scintil and didn’t enter Vlammen until we reach the Holy Mountains but I’m not sure that will be possible.”

“But what happens during Vlammen? I mean, I know you said something about my honey flowing like my nectar, whatever that means but—”

“They’re off. You can look now.”

“Really?” Emily looked down at her chest and saw that he had indeed managed to get the silver pinchers with their long, golden tassels off. “I didn’t feel a thing,” she exclaimed. “But, oh…am I okay?”

Her nipples, which had been dark pink and very puffy, were now almost red and looked twice as swollen as before.

“Don’t try to touch yourself,” Tragar cautioned. He had tossed the silver pinchers aside and was opening a small blue jar that had pale pink cream inside. It smelled like peppermint and flowers. “Here—let me rub some healing ointment on you—it should help.”

“I hope so.” She nibbled her bottom lip nervously as he scooped some of the pale pink ointment up on one fingertip and began to slowly circle the outer edge of her areola with it. She knew he was probably just working his way inward, being careful not to hurt her, but the warm, gentle touch was doing strange things to her, making her throb and ache between her legs where the silver shaft was still buried.

For a moment she wondered if she should tell him about that but she decided to keep quiet about it for now. The little voice inside her still insisted it needed to stay where it was and anyway, she really didn’t want him looking between her legs and seeing how hot and wet his tender treatment of her nipples was making her pussy.

“Feels all right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her as his finger slipped over the tight red bud of her nipple.

Emily nodded and bit back a moan. God—that felt amazing. How could the big Kindred be so stern and angry one minute and so gentle and careful the next? She tried not to notice how his golden eyes were half-lidded as he touched her or how good it felt when he put down the pot of ointment and rubbed both nipples at once, pinching and tugging lightly to really massage the pink healing salve into her flesh. Instead, she crossed her legs tightly, trying to fight the rising tide of desire inside her and failing miserably.

At last, after stroking and rubbing her nipples for what felt like forever, he sat back a little. Emily dared to look down and was relieved to see that her swollen buds had at least returned to a dark pink shade instead of the ominous red. But Tragar was still frowning for some reason.

“What is it?” she asked anxiously, trying to read his face. “What’s wrong? They’re back to the right color at least—that’s good, right?”

“They’re the right color but…” He cupped her globes and massaged gently with no result. “Look—your nectar isn’t flowing—not even a drop.”

“Well, I mean that’s good right? That means I’m still in the first stage of Scintil?”

He shook his head. “Based on how much fuller your breasts are, I believe you should be entering the second stage by now. The nectar must flow or you’re going to be in a great deal of pain, I’m afraid.”

Emily bit her lip. In fact, now that he’d stopped touching her nipples, her breasts ached sharply again, making her wince when the heavy globes swayed with even the slightest movement. But she wasn’t sure if she ought to admit that or not.

Tragar, however, seemed to read the pain on her face.

“You’re already hurting, aren’t you?” he murmured, frowning at her. “Your breasts are giving you pain because they’re too full.”

“It’s…uncomfortable,” Emily admitted. “But maybe it’s because the pinchers just came off. Maybe the situation will, uh, resolve itself after a little while.”

“Maybe…” He didn’t sound convinced. But just then Emily’s stomach rumbled, much to her mortification.

“Oh, excuse me!” She put a hand to her belly, her cheeks getting hot. “I’m just hungry, I guess. It’s been a long time since those protein bars we had back on your ship.”

“As for that, I believe Xen’dex’s mate is making a late meal for us now. We’re going to eat with them and stay here tonight. We’ll be off again tomorrow as long as you’re well enough to travel.”

“I’m well enough,” Emily protested.

He frowned. “That remains to be seen. I still don’t like the way you’re not even producing a single drop of nectar from either peak.” He sighed. “But for now, let’s go eat and see if the situation will “resolve itself” as you said.”

“But I can’t go out in nothing but a towel,” Emily protested. “And anyway, now that the pinchers are off, I’m back to square one. Everything hurts me except, well…” She could feel her cheeks getting hot with a blush. “Except you.”

“I would love nothing better than to hold your breasts in my hands the entire time we are eating,” he growled softly. “As a true chosen mate would. But since I am not your chosen mate, it would probably be better for you to wear this.”

He rose and went to the other side of the bed. There was a gauzy top there so lightweight it looked like it barely weighed a thing. It fluttered in the air lightly as Tragar brought it to her.

“Lift your arms,” he instructed. “Let me slip it over your head.”

“But…won’t it hurt?” Emily couldn’t help remembering how the soft, silky material of her nightgown had felt like sandpaper against her sensitive tips.

“It is fabric made of the petals of the lassa flower—the same flower used to make the healing ointment,” he rumbled, pointing at the ointment pot still lying on the bed beside her. “It shouldn’t irritate your peaks—for a short time, at least.”

“All right.” Carefully, she let the soft, floaty fabric settle around her. The top was pale green and had spaghetti straps that could be adjusted to be longer or shorter through a series of loops. “Hey—it really doesn’t hurt.” Emily was relieved as the soft blouse settled against her sensitive nipples. She could see them poking out under the flower fabric, making two obscene little tents, but at least they were covered. The hem of the top felt about to her navel and while she wished it was longer, Emily was just glad to be decent for now.

“It won’t hurt at first,” Tragar said, handing her a long green skirt with a slit up the middle which appeared to go with the blouse. “Though after a little while even the lassa fabric will irritate you. But this blouse can be adjusted for that. Watch.”

Leaning over her, he did something to the loops on the spaghetti straps, shortening them so that the hem of the pale green blouse was suddenly raised to just above her nipples.

Emily bit her lip as she looked down at the obscene sight of her full breasts thrusting out from under the gauzy green fabric.

“Um…is that really necessary?”

“Not now. It maybe become so later, especially when your nectar starts to flow.” He readjusted the straps so that her breasts were hidden again, much to Emily’s relief. “The fabric also repels nectar so it won’t stain when it starts to flow. The nectar simply rolls right off.”

“Okay, well that’s good I guess.” It still seemed to Emily that she was going to be walking around all sticky and leaving a trail of the honey-looking nectar everywhere she went but at least her clothes wouldn’t be stained. “Do you mind not looking while I put this on?” she asked, holding up the skirt. “I’m still kind of, um, shy.”

Plus she didn’t want him to see the silver shaft which was still inside her. Her breasts might be achy and full but the shaft didn’t have anything to do with that—or so the little voice in her head insisted. And as long as it wasn’t hurting her, she had decided to leave it where it was. After all, if it could keep her from moving to the third stage, or Vlammen as Tragar called it, it would be worth a little discomfort of having a foreign object inside her.

“Of course.” Tragar turned around courteously and she dropped the towel completely and pulled on the skirt. She wished she had panties to go with it but at least she was covered. The fabric was stretchy and the slit of the skirt came up to her mid thighs so she was easily able to walk in it.

Once she was dressed, Emily felt much better. The skirt and blouse outfit, though not what she would have picked for herself, was certainly flattering. And even if it hadn’t been, anything was better than her ragged, stained nightgown.

“I’m ready,” she said to Tragar and he turned around to look at her.

“You look beautiful, my Khalla,” he murmured and held out an arm to her. “May I escort you to dinner?”

“Yes, thank you.” Smiling and trying to ignore the ache in her breasts, Emily took his arm and let him lead her from the room. She could still feel the bumpy silver shaft moving within her with each step, but at least her nipples didn’t sting anymore and she and Tragar seemed to be on talking terms again. She just wished her breasts didn’t hurt with every step.

Still, maybe the problem will take care of itself, she thought hopefully. Maybe the nectar will just go away—just dissipate or something. It didn’t seem very likely but a girl could hope, couldn’t she?

Chapter Nineteen

“This is delicious, Saskia!” Emily said. “I’d ask for the recipe but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t find the ingredients back on Earth.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Saskia smiled and passed her a small piece of undu bread, shaped like a hand for good luck. “It’s my specialty, so it tis. Though I never thought to be making it for a Khalla from so far away.”

Tragar watched as Emily dug into the steaming bowl of charnoth stew which their hostess had set before her. It really was delicious, with a thick, meaty broth and chunks of taroth root and other vegetables throughout it. In contrast, there were also delicate simbla blossoms floating on its surface, their fragile purple petals unfurling in the steam.

He was eating his own stew but keeping an eye on Emily, who was sitting directly across the table from him. So far, she still hadn’t shed a single drop of nectar and he was becoming more and more concerned.

He knew the nectar wasn’t flowing yet because the pale green fabric of her clothing remained unchanged. The flower-blouse she had on would repel the liquid of course but still, the passage of the nectar would have changed its color, turning the pale green to a deep turquoise.

Of course, when she really started flowing the straps would have to be adjusted to reveal her nipples completely—they would be much too sensitive at that point to have even the softest petal fabric against them. But so far Emily seemed to have no such problem. In fact, he would have thought she had no problem at all, but for the slight wince he saw on her face any time she moved too quickly and caused her heavy breasts to jiggle.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Xen’dex, who was sitting beside him, murmured for his ears alone. “Concerned about your Khalla.”

“I removed those damned pinchers myself—she couldn’t stand to do it,” Tragar muttered back. “And her breasts have grown so much fuller I was certain her nectar would flow at once. But so far…not a drop.”

“That’s not good.” Xen’dex frowned. “Possibly prolonged exposure to the star-silver inhibited her flow or thickened the nectar. Which can be extremely dangerous.”

“She admitted her breasts ache,” Tragar said in a low voice. “But I don’t know what to do about it. I even tried massaging them but…” He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“I believe she should be in the second stage of Scintil by now.” Xen’dex shook his head. “If the nectar doesn’t being to flow soon, you may have to do something else to stimulate it.”

“Besides massaging her? What can I do?” Tragar demanded. He was glad that the table was wide and the females across from them were completely immersed in their own conversation—he had a feeling Emily wouldn’t like knowing he was discussing this with his old master at all.

Xen’dex sighed and looked troubled.

“You may have to suck her peaks—just enough to get the nectar flowing.”

“What?” Tragar shook his head. “But that’s forbidden! To suck the nectar from a Khalla’s peaks…It is unthinkable.”

“Sometimes the unthinkable is necessary,” Xen’dex murmured. “And the rule against the sucking of nectar was not always in place—it is actually a fairly recent decree. Only in the past hundred cycles has it been considered forbidden.”

“Truly?” Tragar raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was prohibited by the Goddess herself.”

Xen’dex shook his head. “Not by the Goddess—by her Mouthpiece. The High Priestess and Head of the Holy Council.”

“That’s the same thing,” Tragar objected. “For surely the Mouthpiece of the Goddess would not say anything the Goddess had not given her to say. I cannot suck the nectar from Emily’s breasts—it is wrong!”

“It didn’t used to be considered so,” Xen’dex argued softly. “According to some very ancient texts I have studied, the chosen mate of the Khalla-to-be would suck her peaks and partake of her nectar regularly. It created a bond between them which would never form otherwise.”

“That was then—this is now,” Tragar objected. “All of my life I have been taught what a blasphemy it was for a male to let more than a drop or two of the Khalla’s sacred nectar to pass his lips.”

“You do not have to imbibe completely. The key is to start the nectar flowing, then stop sucking—and above all, not to swallow any of the nectar itself.”

“Master, you do not understand. I have already done things with Emily…things I deeply regret.” Tragar closed his eyes briefly, remembering the remorse he had felt after beating her with his belt. That had been bad enough. But to compound his sins by sucking her peaks until her nectar filled his mouth…no, he could not do it.

No man was worthy of such an honor—not even the Khalla’s chosen mate. It was frowned on by the Holy Council in the Holy Mountains—not just frowned on but outright condemned. Any male who did such a thing was a heretic—a blasphemer. Of course, after renouncing the Goddess, Tragar was already both those things. But he couldn’t shake the idea that what Xen’dex was suggesting was wrong.

“The nectar must be allowed to flow freely,” he pointed out. “It may be tested for sweetness but no more than a drop or two must pass a male’s lips.”

“Yes, if it will flow in the first place,” Xen’dex said in a low voice. “But if the star-silver has thickened it, you may need to help. Though it is forbidden, better that you should suckle her peaks to draw it out than that your Khalla should die if it will not flow properly.”

“She could die of it?” Tragar dropped his voice to a whisper, eyeing Emily, who was laughing with Saskia about something, with deep concern. He felt a knife twist in his gut at the thought. No, she can’t die! I won’t let it happen!

“The nectar must flow,” his old master insisted grimly. “By any means possible. Outside of her body it is a healing ambrosia, filled with fertility and life. But if it remains within, unable to bless and heal, it becomes a poison to her.”

Something he had said troubled Tragar.

“What do you mean, it must flow by any means? Are you saying that even sucking may not be enough?”

“Pleasure may help as well if the sucking alone does not,” his master said obliquely. “That is all I may tell you for now. Consider that after you have gone to your sleeping chamber this night. And if you care for your Khalla as I know you do, you must do whatever is necessary to help her.”

“Yes, Master.” Tragar nodded, still watching Emily. He noticed the way her lips tightened as she moved just a little too fast…the way she bit her lip as if to hold back a gasp of pain when her heavy breasts jiggled. Obviously, she was in much more pain than she was letting on. But could he really break the ancient, sacred taboo to help her?

Yes, he thought and knew it was true. I would do anything to help her—even damn myself in the eyes of the Goddess. Though what did it matter? He was already damned after having renounced her. He would do what he had to do to help Emily and to the Seven Hells with the rest of the universe.

* * * * *

Emily sighed as she got ready for sleep. She and Tragar were going to be sharing the large bed—which Saskia had told her had indeed been grown rather than made—and Emily was afraid it was going to be awkward. Not just because she was going to be sleeping beside the big Kindred warrior and inhaling that warm, spicy scent of his all night, but also because of the strange nightgown she’d been given to wear.

“It’s made especially for a Khalla,” Saskia had said, handing it to her. “I made it, in fact, for my dear friend who was one.” She bit her lip. “Unfortunately, she never got a chance to wear it.”

“What happened to her, if you don’t mind me asking?” Emily asked quietly, taking the lovely, periwinkle blue nightgown from her new friend. “I mean, forgive me if I’m being nosy but…”

“No, tis all right.” Saskia looked down at her hands. “She did not survive her Tenrah.”

“Oh,” Emily whispered faintly. “And…does that happen often? People…Khallas die during their, uh, Shift?”

“Sometimes…” Saskia put a hand on her arm. “I didn’t want to tell you earlier because I didn’t wish to scare you—tis not my intention. Beleah, my friend, was always weak and sickly to begin with. You…you seem strong.” She smiled at Emily. “Much stronger than she was. And you have a male who cares for you.”

“Who, Tragar?” Emily tried to laugh. “He doesn’t really care—he’s just helping me because he has to. According to him a Beast Kindred is biologically unable to smell out a Khalla and not help her in any way he can.”

“It might have started like that,” Saskia said quietly. “But I don’t believe that is the case now. You should see the way he looks at you—the way he watches you, Emily. There is caring in his eyes—there is the kheer’na.”

Emily frowned. “What’s kheer’na? My translation bacteria aren’t helping with that one.”

“A kind of possessive tenderness that all Beast Kindred males feel for their mates. It was when Xen’dex admitted he felt it for me that I knew he was the one. I was mated once before you know—my first mate was a Wulven male who died in a pack war. Oh yes,” she remarked, when Emily looked at her uncertainly. “Tis true—I am older than I look. Wulven females do not show their age. To say the truth, I am older than Xen’dex. Too old, I thought, to ever be mated again but when I saw the kheer’na in his eyes, I knew I was wrong and I gave myself to him without reservation.”

“Um…” Emily coughed into her hand. “I don’t know about seeing any kheer’na in Tragar’s eyes when he looks at me. I mean, sometimes he can be kind and sweet and understanding but other times he gets so cold. And he was really angry at me when we first met up with them outside the Howlund.”

“Because he was frightened for you,” Saskia said quietly. “Because he thought he’d lost you. I never thought I would advise any female to go with a Verrak, but Emily—he loves you. Even if he does not know it yet himself.”

“If he loves me so much why is he taking me to Rageron so I can find some other guy?” Emily demanded. Just the thought of going with some strange Beast Kindred she didn’t yet know made her feel awful and wrong. Not that I’ll probably even know it at that point, she thought grimly. Not if the other has taken over my body completely.

Saskia shook her head, her long dark hair shifting over one shoulder.

“I do not know. Maybe because he does not realize what he feels himself yet. But he will, Emily—he will. And you should recognize it in yourself as well.” Then she had patted Emily’s hand and stroked the periwinkle blue night gown once more, as if in parting. “Wear it in good health, Khalla,” she said softly. “And may it bring you and your chosen mate pleasure.”

Then she had glided out of the room, leaving Emily to contemplate what she had said…and the gown she was supposed to wear.

It really was a lovely color which made her no-color eyes look blue and almost pretty. But it was also strangely cut with a rounded neckline so low it fell just under the curves of her areolas and left her sensitive nipples bare. Emily couldn’t help feeling self-conscious when she put it on, even though Tragar had already seen her breasts plenty of times in the past few days.

Seen them and squeezed them and licked them, whispered that snarky little voice in the back of her head. Admit it, Emily—you’re hoping he might do more of that tonight.

Emily pushed it away. She was just wearing the clothing that had been given to her—the clothing that was fitting for someone in her condition. It wasn’t her fault that it was a bit revealing.

Well, maybe more than a bit. In addition to dipping low enough to show her nipples, the periwinkle blue gown only fell to the tops of her thighs and there were no panties to go with it. Basically, Emily felt like she was wearing an outfit picked out for a honeymoon. Something sweet and sexy at the same time—something a bride might choose to wear for her new husband.

Ha! As if Tragar would ever want to marry me! She snorted to herself. The big Kindred had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t the man for her, even if he was acting as her “chosen mate.” No matter what Saskia said about him loving her, Emily didn’t see it. She doubted he’d be getting down on one knee any time soon.

Which was one reason she felt nervous going to bed with him dressed like this.

“If only there was some kind of flower petal cape to cover it,” she muttered to herself, twisting to get a look in the 3-D viewer just inside the bathroom. “If only—ouch!”

A sharp, lancing pain—a feeling of unbearable fullness worse than anything she’d had during dinner—shot through her breasts and nipples, making her gasp and clutch at herself instinctively. Unfortunately her own touch was also incredibly painful. She cried out again, pulling her arms away from the tender peaks, and tears of agony came to her eyes.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? Hurst worse even than it did before.”

The deep voice startled her because she’d believed herself to be alone. Whirling, Emily saw Tragar standing there, a look of unmistakable concern in his golden eyes.

“I can stand it,” she said defiantly.

“Why should you?” he countered, surprising her. “Why not just let me help you?”

“You think you can?” Emily looked at him doubtfully.

“I know I can. We have to help your nectar flow.”

“But you already, uh, massaged me earlier and nothing happened,” she pointed out. Somewhere deep inside she knew that nothing had happened because of the star-silver shaft inside her. But still the hypnotic little voice in the back of her brain insisted that it shouldn’t come out.

“I know massaging didn’t help.” The big Kindred looked troubled. “Which is why…I think more extreme measures need to be taken.”

“More extreme? What do you mean?” Emily drew back from him fearfully.

“I need…forgive me, Khalla for this sacrilege, but I fear that I must suck your peaks in order to get your nectar flowing.” He looked ashamed, as though he was suggesting something deeply wrong but somehow necessary.

“Um…” Emily twisted her fingers together nervously. “But I thought…didn’t you tell me that sucking a Khalla’s nipples was forbidden?”

“It is.” He nodded gravely. “A better male than I would probably refuse to even think of such a thing. But I am not a good or deserving male—I only wish to help you. To save you.”

“To save me?” She looked at him uncertainly. “What are you saying?”

“That your nectar must flow one way or another,” he rumbled. “If not, it will become a poison inside you. Emily…” He cupped her chin firmly and looked earnestly into her eyes. “It must be allowed to flow.”

“Well…all right. But are you sure you don’t mind? I mean…you don’t think it’s kind of, well, gross?”

“To taste the nectar of a Khalla? To taste your nectar?” He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe she’d even asked such a question. “How could tasting the fullness of your breasts be anything but bliss?”

“Um…okay then. If you really don’t mind.”

“Emily,” he said seriously, catching her eyes. “What I am about to do is a forbidden fantasy. Sucking the nectar from the breasts of a Khalla is something every Beast Kindred male dreams of…yet knows he must never do. I will be committing sacrilege and yet it will be so sweet even damning my soul to the Seven Hells will be more than worth it.”

“Wow…all right then. But you really feel like it’s going to damn you? I mean, it’s that bad?”

He nodded slowly. “But do not concern yourself with that. I was damned long before I met you—damned by the sins of my past. It doesn’t bother me to add one more to my long list of transgressions, especially if it helps you survive.”

“In that case I guess we’d better get started,” Emily said as lightly as she could.

She didn’t share his conviction that allowing him to suck her nipples was deeply wrong so that part didn’t bother her. What did bother her was how much she wanted to feel his mouth on her again. As well as the fact that she didn’t want to flow like a freaking fountain, as he had described earlier. Still, there didn’t seem to be much choice about that. The aching fullness of her breasts was driving her crazy—she had to get it fixed even if it meant watering the lawn everywhere she went from now on—or at least until this stage of the Tenrah was over.

“Come then.” Tragar looked relieved that she was agreeing to this so easily. “Come back to the bed with me and let me try to ease your pain.”

“Okay.” Emily allowed him to take her hand and lead her back into the bedroom with its big flower covered bed. She expected him to sit her on the side of the bed and get down on his knees before her, as he had earlier. Instead, to her surprise, he toed off his high black boots and removed his vest. Then, wearing only his black leather trousers, he climbed into the middle of the bed and settled against the headboard, which was made of flowering vines.

“Come here,” he said and patted his lap. “Come to me, Emily.”

“Um…really? You want me to sit in your lap?” Because that seemed to be his meaning.

“It will be easier to reach you in this way,” Tragar said reasonably.

Easier for him to reach her but a hell of a lot harder for her to disguise what she was feeling when he put his mouth on her sensitive nipples…and to hide the star-silver shaft that was still lodged firmly inside her pussy.

He must not see it! whispered an insistent little voice in the back of her brain that sounded strangely familiar. He must not see it or he will want to take it out—and that must not happen!

Still, there didn’t seem to be much else she could do. Tragar was looking at her expectantly and she didn’t know how to say no.

I’ll just pull the hem of the nighty as low as it will go over my thighs, she told herself uneasily as she climbed onto the bed beside him. Which would solve the problem of hiding the shaft, but not of hiding the inevitable orgasms that were sure to wrack her body the moment he started sucking her sensitive nipples.

Emily knew she shouldn’t care anymore—after all, by this time the big Kindred had given her more orgasms than she could count. But still, he’d always been touching her from behind while he tugged and pinched her nipples. The idea of facing him and showing him her “O face” while he made her come made Emily feel intensely vulnerable and uncertain. But again, she didn’t see a way around it.

“Okay,” she said, climbing carefully onto the bed. She scooted next to him.

“Come here.” Tragar patted his lap again. “Straddle me. I need you close, Khalla.”

Emily had given up on trying to get him not to call her that—after all, there was no disputing what she was and what her body was going through. Biting her lip, she tugged the hem of the periwinkle blue nighty as low as she could and threw one leg over his lean hips. The movement jostled her full breasts and she gave a little moan of pain.

“All right. It’s going to be all right, my Khalla,” Tragar murmured, reaching out to cradle her full globes gently. His touch made her feel instantly better and Emily felt a little of the tension leaving her body.

“Thank you,” she said softly, settling into his lap. She could feel the big muscles of his thighs tense under her bare bottom as well as the familiar hard ridge of his cock. She didn’t move away from it though it made her cheeks burn to know she was the cause of his erection. “Um…how do we get started?” she asked, feeling awkward just sitting there.

“Sit forward a little and bring your breast to my mouth.” His deep voice was slightly hoarse and Emily couldn’t help noticing his golden eyes were half-lidded with lust. She started to raise up a little, to put her right breast to the level of his lips…but then she stopped.

“Why do you want to do this?” she blurted, unable to hold the question back. “I mean…why do you want to help me? Is it just because you’re a guy and you like boobs or what?”

“Boobs?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Um, breasts. Sorry.” Emily shook her head. “Forget I asked.”

“No, it’s a fair question,” he said unexpectedly. “One you deserve an answer to. I…” He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Earlier I told you that I was only helping you because of my reaction to your scent.”

“Because of biology,” Emily whispered. Her heart was pounding for some reason but she didn’t know why.

“Exactly.” He nodded. “I think that must have given you the idea that I didn’t care about you as a person.”

“Well, you didn’t know me as a person,” Emily pointed out.

“True.” He nodded again. “But even from the first—even before I smelled your sweet, hot scent—I knew something was different about you.” He frowned. “I watched you for over ten of your Earth days, you know, trying to understand what it was…why I was so reluctant to kill you.”

“You…you did?” She’d known he was hunting her…stalking like a predator stalks prey. But she’d had no idea that he had spent so long just watching and wondering about her.

“I did.” Gravely, he nodded. “I saw how patient and tender you were with the young ones in your care. And it made me think of…”

“Of…?” Emily urged gently, because the big Kindred had paused and seemed to be having a hard time continuing.

“Of my mate,” he said at last, heavily. “My mate and my son.”

“You’re married?” Emily drew back from him. “Or what do the Kindred call it—joined? You’re joined?”

“No longer.” His deep voice was harsh and there was a pain in his golden eyes that made her heart ache.

“Tragar…” she began but he shook his head.

“No more. I do not wish…I cannot speak of them.”

“Okay,” Emily said softly. Clearly something really bad had happened. Maybe he and his wife had gone through a bitter divorce and she’d taken his son away to someplace Tragar couldn’t see him?

“The past is irrelevant,” he said and cleared his throat. “The only reason I bring it up is to say that I saw a gentleness in you—a beauty I could not bear to wipe out of existence. And since then, since I have come to know you, I…” He cleared his throat again, clearly having difficulty choosing his words. “What I’m trying to say is that while the biological imperative to protect a Khalla is incredibly strong, it is not the only reason I am helping you.” He met her eyes. “I also…care for you. Far more than I ever expected I would.”

“Well…thank you. I, um, care for you too. When we’re not shouting at each other.” Emily smiled, finding herself unexpectedly touched by his stilted little speech. Clearly he wasn’t a guy used to dealing with emotions so making himself open enough to talk to her about what he was feeling—even a little bit—was a significant effort on his part.

“You are welcome.” He gave her a small sardonic smile. “Also, being a male, I do like ‘boobs.’”

“Tragar!” She slapped him on one broad shoulder but the sudden motion jiggled her overfull breasts and she gasped.

“Let us turn our attention to getting your nectar flowing.” He was suddenly serious. “I would not see you in pain, my Khalla.”

“All right.” Emily wished her voice didn’t sound quite so breathy. “Do…do what you have to do.”

“I shall. Though the Elders of the Holy Council would consider it blasphemy, I must attempt to suck the nectar from your breasts.”

Lifting her right breast to his mouth, he drew her swollen nipple between his lips and began to suck.

Emily gasped at the hot, wet sensation of being enveloped in his mouth. Just as she’d expected, she felt the pleasure building inside her almost at once. Her pussy was suddenly slippery and swollen and her clit was throbbing.

But to her surprise, the intense pleasure didn’t reach a peak. In the past, every time the big Kindred had touched or played with her nipples, she’d had a series of short, sharp orgasms almost like electric shocks running through her body. This time it was as though an electrical charge was building up inside her but it couldn’t find a way out. After a moment, she moaned in frustration—God, why couldn’t she come?

Tragar pulled back, a worried look on his face. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, not exactly.” Emily bit her lip, unwilling to say what the real problem was. After all, she shouldn’t want to come in his arms, should she? Hadn’t she just been thinking about how embarrassing it was going to be?

Ought to be glad it didn’t happen, she told herself sternly. But she couldn’t help feeling put on edge, like the pleasure or the charge or whatever it was, was building up inside her with no outlet…nowhere to go. She wondered if Tragar was going to go on but he was looking at her full breast and frowning.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Not a drop. What can be the problem?”

Emily shifted uncomfortably in his lap. She knew exactly what the problem was—what was keeping her breasts from releasing their amber nectar. But the voice in the back of her head, the voice that sounded like Grandy See-er, wouldn’t let her tell him.

It must remain a secret, little Mistress! No one must know, especially not him! You must not tell, hissed the voice and Emily found she was powerless to disobey it, even though she was beginning to want to.

“I’ll try the other one,” Tragar decided. He looked at Emily. “With your permission, Khalla?”

“Oh, um…sure, go ahead.” Emily nodded, feeling her heart speed up again. She wondered if she would come this time, if the building sexual tension would finally be released.

But though Tragar took her pink nipple deep in his mouth and sucked as hard as he could, nothing happened. Well, not exactly nothing, Emily thought. The sexual pleasure continued to grow until she was writhing all over his lap, almost unable to sit still anymore. But still she couldn’t come, though her clit was throbbing and she felt like she was right on the edge. And still her nectar didn’t flow.

At last the big Kindred released her nipple and sat back, panting a little and looking worried.

“Nothing,” he growled. “I cannot taste even a hint of your nectar but I know it is there—your breasts are so full of it they must ache.”

“They do,” Emily admitted. In fact, the longer this went on, the worse her breasts hurt. Even the feel of his big, warm hands on her swollen globes wasn’t helping her much now. “What are we going to do?” she asked, feeling desperate. “Is there any kind of medicine or surgery…”

“No, nothing like that.” Tragar looked at her, frowning. “There is one more thing I can try but I do not know how you will feel about it.”

“About what?” Emily looked at him uncertainly.

“Pleasure.” He took a deep breath. “I believe that if I could bring you pleasure—bring you to sexual release—that might free your nectar and allow it to flow.”

“Oh, uh…” Emily could feel her cheeks getting red. “I mean, how would you…how do you want to do that? I mean, most of the time when you just, you know, pinch and squeeze my nipples, I, uh, come just from that. But this time…”

“This time nipple play isn’t bringing you to the peak,” he said, nodding. “I know.”

“You can tell?” Emily demanded.

“Of course I can, my Khalla,” Tragar rumbled. “The soft noises of pleasure you make when you come are unmistakable.”

“They…they are?”

He nodded. “There is also the way your pale skin flushes a rosy pink, your rapid breathing, and most of all, your scent. It gets so sweet and hot when you come I can barely resist dropping to my knees to taste your desire right from the source.”

“You mean…you want to…Oh, but I couldn’t let you do that. I mean, I don’t…”

“Peace, my Khalla.” Tragar stroked her hot cheek gently, as though to soothe her. “I never meant to say that is how I would bring you to the peak of pleasure now.”

“No? You wouldn’t? I mean you won’t?” Emily tried to still her pounding heart. Just the thought of him between her legs, kissing and tasting her there, made her feel breathless and frightened and uncertain all at once.

“No,” he shook his head. “All I want to do is to touch you…to stroke and caress your soft little pussy until you come for me…come on my fingers as I trace your swollen clit and explore your secret depths.”

His golden eyes were half-lidded and his voice dropped to a soft, deep murmur that sent a hot rush of need and desire sparking through Emily’s entire body. God, hearing him talk like that…it made her ache inside her, made the building charge of pleasure with no outlet, even harder to bear. He was right—she needed to come.

“Yes,” she whispered, without thinking about it. “Yes, do…do that. I want you to.” Then she realized how shameless she sounded. “I…I mean, I think it would help.”

“I hope it will.” Lifting the hem of her nighty, he started to reach between her legs. But then he stopped, frowning. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” Emily had been so caught up in the rush of pleasure and need she’d completely forgotten about the secret of the star-silver shaft inside her. Now she suddenly remembered and a spike of shame and fear nearly stopped her heart. She started to close her legs but Tragar was holding them open, looking between her thighs with a stern frown growing on his face.

“Emily,” he said in a quiet, dangerous voice. “Is this what I think it is?”

“I don’t know—what do you think it is?” The minute the words left her mouth she wished she hadn’t been quite so flippant. The look on the big Kindred’s face was now terrible to behold and his grip on her thighs was so tight she feared he might leave marks there. She wished she could move but there was no way to get free of him.

“That’s star-silver, isn’t it?” he demanded, his voice a low growl as he examined the round silver disk which covered her entrance and half her pussy.

Emily knew she couldn’t lie.

“Yes,” she said in a small voice.

“That fucking poisonous metal I took off your nipples because of what it did to you? And now I see you’ve got more of it inside you? In your sacred channel?”

“Well, I’ve never heard lady parts called a ‘sacred channel’ but—”

“You know what I mean.” His golden eyes were blazing. “You are a Khalla—a Goddess in mortal form. How can you defile and poison yourself with this filth?”

“Because I don’t want to be a Goddess in mortal form, okay?” Emily flared at him. “And I don’t want the other taking over my body. I just want to go back to being plain old Emily the kindergarten teacher from Tampa.”

He looked at her steadily.

“Even at the cost of your life? For that is the price you will pay if you keep the star-silver inside you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I won’t really die just from stopping the Tenrah.” She looked at him uncertainly. “Will I?”

The big Kindred just looked at her until Emily finally dropped her eyes, unable to bear the intensity of his golden gaze.

“All right, fine,” she muttered. “I’ll take it out.” She got off his lap and turned her back, not wanting him to see her groping between her legs. This was embarrassing enough as it was—she didn’t need an audience. Don’t do it, whispered Grandy See-er’s voice in the back of her head. I have to, she argued. I have no choice.

But when she grasped the star-silver disk at the base of the shaft, she found she couldn’t pull it out. In fact, it hurt to even try.

“Ouch!” she gasped involuntarily.

“What is it? Are you unable to get it out?” Tragar sounded concerned but Emily wasn’t willing to admit defeat.

“It’s fine. I’ll be…fine,” she said. But her voice came out high and tight and the metal rod inside her refused to budge. Her pussy felt horribly sensitive—even painful. And every time she touched it, it hurt even more but she didn’t feel like she had a choice. She had to get this damn thing out of her, no matter what the little voice in the back of her head was saying.

After several more tense minutes of trying, she felt like screaming! The damn shaft was wedged inside her like someone had coated it in super-glue or something. What the hell was she going to do?

“Emily…” Tragar’s deep voice was worried and impatient.

“I’m fine,” she insisted again. “I just need to get a good look at it…maybe it’ll help if I look in the mirror…uh, the viewer.”

She started to get off the bed but Tragar stopped her.

“Hey, what are you doing? Let me go!” Emily demanded.

“No.” Holding her firmly by the arm, he drew her back to him. “Clearly you cannot remove the star-silver on your own, just as you could not remove the nipple clamps.”

“I told you, I just need to get a good look at it!” Emily protested weakly. But deep down, she knew getting a better view of the star-silver shaft wouldn’t make any difference. The damn thing was lodged inside her like a cork in a bottle and clearly it didn’t want to come out.

“Relax.” Tragar was positioning her on the side of the bed with her legs hanging over the sides. Emily was willing to let him examine her but when he got down on his knees in front of her, she started to close her thighs.

“Tragar—”

“What is it?” There was a look of worry on his face as he put his hands on her knees.

“I just don’t want you to…to put your mouth…” She trailed off, feeling her cheeks go hot.

He sighed and some of the impatience left his face.

“Did I not tell you I would not taste you tonight, no matter how much I may wish to?”

“I…um…” Emily bit her lip. “I guess, in this position…I just thought…never mind.”

“I’m trying to get a better look at you so that I can remove this damn star-silver,” he said patiently. “Look, Emily, I know the voice witch probably bespelled you to keep this device inside you and not tell me about it, so I don’t blame you.”

“You don’t?” She felt a rush of relief. She didn’t like it when he was angry—even for her own good.

“No.” He shook his head. “But it must come out. Please understand me—I’m only trying to help and protect you. Until this device comes out neither your nectar nor your honey can flow.”

“All right.” Emily let her thighs drift apart. “You can try to get it out. But I don’t know how you can—I swear it’s like somebody used superglue on me to keep it in or something.”

“That is probably more of the witch’s magic,” he said grimly. “Come, my Khalla, relax and let me see if I can help you.”

Emily let herself lay back on the bed as he spread her thighs even wider. She felt intensely vulnerable in this position but she knew Tragar wouldn’t hurt her. She couldn’t help biting her lip, however, when she felt his large, gentle fingers spreading her pussy lips wide.

“Hmm…” she heard him murmur and then the blunt tips of his fingers were sliding delicately around her swollen folds, tracing the cruel edges of the star-silver metal which had somehow embedded itself in her flesh. Emily would have expected this to hurt as her own touch had but, as before, the big Kindred’s hands on her felt gentle and soothing…healing and not painful at all.

She gave a soft sigh and felt some of the tension slipping from her as she relaxed under his hands. She felt certain he could help her…although she still didn’t know how, exactly.

“You’re correct,” he said after what seemed like a long time. “It seems almost glued inside you.”

“It does?” Emily looked up, frowning.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving the spot between her thighs. “But every glue has a solvent.”

“What solvent?” Emily asked warily.

Tragar looked up at her at last.

“I don’t know how much you know about Beast Kindred anatomy…”

Emily shook her head. “Not much. Are you, uh, different from other guys?”

“We are. We have a swelling at the base of our shafts called a ‘mating fist.’”

“You do?” Emily wondered where he was going with this.

“We do.” He nodded. “Anyway, in order for bonding sex to occur the mating fist must be all the way inside our female’s sacred passage. It is…quite large. No female could be open enough to receive it without help.”

“What kind of help?” Emily asked. She was beginning to feel distinctly nervous. What exactly did the big Kindred intend to do with her?

“The help of a chemical made by a Beast Kindred’s body— a compound which is present in all of our fluids.” He clearly saw the uncertainty growing on her face, but continued anyway. “It allows the female to open up and take her mate’s shaft fully inside her pussy.”

“Okay, so what does that have to do with me?” Emily was afraid she knew but she didn’t want to jump to any embarrassing conclusions.

He sighed. “I think if I could just lick—”

“No!” she said immediately, sitting up and closing her thighs. “No, I’m not comfortable with that at all.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” He sat back on his heels, frowning. “I was going to say, perhaps if I lick and suck my fingers and then trace around the edges of the base of the phallus, I might be able to loosen the seal.”

“You think that could work?” Emily looked at him, her eyes wide.

There was a grim look on Tragar’s face.

“If it doesn’t, I’m not certain what will. I have the chemical compounds needed to open you in my other fluids but I do not think you would enjoy allowing me to—”

“Allowing you to what?” Emily insisted.

“Never mind.” He shook his head. “Here, lie back and let me try to help you.”

Emily did as he said, her heart pounding as she watched him suck two long fingers into his mouth. He brought them out, slippery and wet and reached between her legs. She gasped when she felt his blunt fingertips stroking her pussy gently, tracing the circle of alien metal while somehow avoiding her throbbing clit.

“Is it helping?” she asked after a moment.

“Possibly.” He withdrew his fingers and put them back in his mouth. He gave a low groan and Emily saw him swallow convulsively—did he really enjoy her taste that much?

“Delicious,” he murmured hoarsely as he began stroking around the star-silver disk again. “So fucking delicious, my Khalla.”

“Umm…” Emily didn’t know what to say but knowing that he liked the way she tasted made her heart give a strange little leap in her chest. Not that she really wanted any man tasting her with his tongue or anything but still…

But as pleasurable as she found the process, it didn’t seem to be helping. After what seemed like a long time, Tragar looked up, a serious expression on his face.

“My Khalla, I have failed you.”

“You…what? But I thought you said it had to come out. Or I would…would…” Emily swallowed hard, hearing a dry click in her throat. “Or I would die.”

“You will not die—I will not allow that to happen.” He stroked her inner thighs soothingly. “I simply need to use a stronger solvent. Forgive me, Khalla but I need…” He cleared his throat. “I think I need to use the fluid my shaft secretes before making love. It eases the way and has a much higher concentration of the opening compound than my saliva does.”

“So you want to…need to…rub your, uh…”

“I need to rub the head of my shaft against your open pussy,” he rumbled softly. “The star-silver device has loosened some but I do not think it will completely come free without a stronger dose of my body’s compound.”

“Really? You think that’s, uh, necessary?”

“If you fear that I would take advantage, please don’t. Your body is still not ready to be bred—you are only in the second stage of your Tenrah. But even if you were in your fourth stage, I am not worthy to possess your beauty. I will do only what is needful to free you of the star-silver, nothing more.”

His eyes were serious and drowning deep and Emily felt her heart give a little thump.

“All right,” she said. “I trust you, Tragar. But…not with me on my back, okay? I don’t want…I can’t have you on top of me while we do this. I just can’t.” It was the position she’d been in when Grayson had taken her against her will. The idea of being pinned down beneath a big, male body, even a body belonging to a man she trusted, threatened to push her over the edge into panic.

Understanding flashed in his golden eyes.

“Of course not. Come then…” He rose from his kneeling position and climbed back on the bed. Settling himself against the flowering headboard, he patted his thighs once more. Clearly he wanted her to get back into their original position, with her straddling him.

Emily came to him and did as he wanted, throwing one leg over his hips though it made her pussy feel open and vulnerable. Her full breasts still ached and throbbed. Now that she was fully committed to getting the star-silver shaft out of her, she hoped they could hurry up and get it done—she couldn’t stand the pain in her oversized chest much longer.

“Okay, how are we going to do this?” she asked, looking down at the thick bulge in the black leather trousers he wore. “Are you just going to, uh, whip it out and start rubbing it against me or what?”

“Given your history, I thought you might prefer to do it yourself,” Tragar rumbled softly.

“Oh, umm…okay. Actually, that’s a good idea.” Emily felt a surge of gratitude. He understood how uncomfortable this was for her—not just because it was awkward but because the last time she’d been anywhere near a male organ was with Grayson when he was hurting her.

“Very well…” Tragar spread his hands in invitation. “I am at your service, my Khalla.”

“Thank you.” Somewhat awkwardly, she fumbled for his opening to his trousers. They seemed to be fastened with some kind of magnetic tabs which were difficult to work. But with a bit of helpful direction from the big Kindred, she finally got them open. When she did, she sucked in a long breath. “Holy crap!”

“Is there a problem?” Tragar frowned, clearly trying to understand her exclamation.

“No, problem. It’s just…you’re so big.” She stared down at the long, thick cock rising between them. It was as big around as her wrist and long enough to make any porn star back on Earth jealous as hell. At the very base of it was a swelling—a ring of flesh that surrounded him like a…like a donut on a banana, she thought and stifled an awed giggle. Was this the “mating fist” thing he’d been talking about?

“I am the normal size for one of my kind,” Tragar protested, still frowning. “I’m sorry if my size does not please you.”

“No, it’s not that—nothing like that,” Emily assured him hastily. “I guess I’m just wondering how any woman could accommodate you. Ever.”

“Through the use of the chemical compounds present in our fluids, as I told you.” He nodded at the broad, plum-shaped head of his cock where a bead of pre-cum was already forming. “Do you wish me to rub it against you…or do you want to do it yourself?”

“I’ll do it,” Emily decided. “Um…” Her hand hovered over the thick shaft. It seemed to pulse in the air between them and she could feel his heat even though she wasn’t touching him yet. “I don’t have much experience with this. I mean, aside from what…what Grayson did I only had one steady boyfriend in high school. So I don’t…don’t exactly know what to do. Is this all right?”

She curled her fingers lightly around the throbbing shaft and Tragar let out a low moan.

“Oh!” Emily snatched her hand back at once. “I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“It was not pain you gave me but pleasure.” Tragar’s eyes were half-lidded again and glowing like molten gold. “Forgive me, Emily. It’s just that it has been a long, long time since a female touched me there. And I never thought to have the pleasure of a Khalla’s caress.”

“I’ll try to be careful,” Emily promised. Gingerly, she wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft again. She liked the feel of him in her hand—his heat and the warm, spicy, masculine scent that rose from his flesh. Despite its throbbing rigidity, the skin of his shaft was incredibly soft—like the petals of a flower.

For a moment, she lost herself in the wonder of him, stroking gently up and down his hard length, enjoying the power she felt when she touched him. Even before the rape, sex had never been an empowering experience for her. Not that she’d had sex before Grayson but Jason, her boyfriend in high school, had convinced her to try a few things—all of which felt wrong and fell flat. But this…this was completely different.

I’m in the arms of a man who desires me…who wants me so much he can barely help himself, she thought. And he’s letting me take the lead…letting me explore him with no risk, no expectations. It was a heady experience and she found herself getting more and more turned on, knowing that the big, muscular warrior who could have broken her in half with one hand was willing to open himself and allow her to explore his body. She liked the feel of him in her hand…and the power she felt when she drew those long, low groans from his throat.

At last, however, Tragar shifted beneath her.

“Emily,” he growled hoarsely. “My Khalla, please—I beg you to use me the way you need to and not tease me any longer. Your soft little hand on my shaft feels too damn good—I fear…fear I will lose control.”

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry.” Her cheeks burned as she realized she’d completely forgotten what she was supposed to be doing. She’d been so interested in exploring him, everything else had taken a backseat. Time to get down to business.

Gripping his shaft gently, she rose up a little and pressed the broad head between her spread pussy lips. Immediately she felt a tingling sensation around the edges of where the base of the star-silver shaft was lodged in her channel. She gave a little moan and kept going, rubbing the spongy tip against her slick petals, stroking around and around the silver disk. Every once in awhile she couldn’t help rubbing him against her swollen clit too and every time she felt the tingling intensify. The pleasure was building in her again—that electrical charge looking for an outlet. Oh God, she was getting close here…so close…

Tragar seemed to sense what was happening to her.

“Sit up some and bring your breasts to my mouth,” he ordered hoarsely. “Let me suck your tight nipples as you rub me against your pussy.”

Moaning again, Emily obeyed. She gasped when he captured one stiff peak between his lips but didn’t try to get away when he began to suck. She could feel the star-silver shaft loosening inside her as the chemicals in his pre-cum made her pussy hot and wet and open. She was sure the alien metal would come out soon and when it did, she was certain she was going to come…come so hard.

“Tragar,” she gasped, pressing against him. “I’m so close! Think I’m going to…going to…”

“Yes, my Khalla,” the big Kindred murmured, pausing his sucking for a moment. “Yes, come for me. Come all over my shaft as I suck the nectar from your breasts.”

He captured her other tight, pink nub between his lips and sucked hard, pulling the tender tip deeply into his hot mouth. At the same time, Emily rubbed the head of his cock over her swollen clit, sliding his flesh across hers and feeling the healing, tingling pre-cum coat her folds.

Oh God, it felt so good…so right. Right in a way no other man’s touch had ever felt on her body. It was as though she was a plant that had been thirsty and dry all her life and the big Kindred knew exactly how to make her bloom. She felt herself opening for him…responding to the touch of his body against hers…giving herself up to the bliss only he could give her.

Suddenly, the star-silver shaft slid free. The pleasure that had been building inside her, looking for an escape, exploded like fireworks deep inside her as she finally reached the elusive peak she’d been reaching for. At the same time, she felt an answering release from the breast that Tragar was sucking.

“Ah! Tragar!” she moaned with equal parts relief and pleasure as she pressed against his mouth, her eyes tightly shut.

Tragar growled and gripped her hips tightly, pulling her forward. She could still feel his hard shaft throbbing against her now open pussy and she had a sudden fierce desire to sink down on him, to take his thickness deep inside her aching pussy and let him give her everything she needed.

The impulse was so strong she actually fit the head of his cock to her entrance and began to lower herself onto him. She needed him—God, she needed him now, filling her…fucking her.

The broad, plum-shaped head of his cock had actually entered her when Tragar seemed to realize what was happening. He stopped sucking her breast abruptly and pulled back, a look of horror on his face.

“Khalla, no! We cannot—we must not! You are only in the second stage of your Tenrah—a second early breeding would mean your death!”

“But I want it—I need it!” Emily squirmed in his lap, desperate to get more of his thick shaft inside her. She especially wanted to feel his mating fist entering her, stretching her wide as she took every last bit of his shaft deep in her pussy.

“No!” Tragar pulled out of her in one swift motion and held her back, a look of regret and determination stamped on his strong features. “Emily, please,” he pleaded. “Stop this—stop and look at me.”

Unwillingly, she raised her eyes to his. She could see pleading in their golden depths as well as a lust that matched her own.

He wants this, a little voice whispered to her. Wants it as badly as you do—hell, maybe even more. But he won’t do it because he doesn’t want to hurt you. Because he knows it would be bad for you.

The thought made her pause and take a deep breath. If Tragar really did want to be inside her as badly as she wanted him there and yet had the willpower to hold himself back, couldn’t she hold herself back too? She needed to show some self control here—needed to overcome the hormones that were shouting like an angry crowd inside her and have some common sense. But God, it was hard…so hard when every atom in her body was crying out that she needed him filling, fucking her, claiming her now.

“All right,” she said, taking a deep breath. “All right, I’m sorry. I just kind of…lost it there for a moment.”

“Understandable,” the big Kindred rumbled. “I am told that a rush of lust often accompanies the first flowing of a Khalla’s nectar.”

“Am I? Flowing?” Emily looked down at herself and was horrified to find that one breast was now noticeably smaller than the other. “Oh my God, I’m lopsided!” she exclaimed.

“It’s only that I haven’t drained the nectar from your left breast yet.” He stroked the full globe which still radiated an aching fullness that Emily could feel all through her chest and torso.

Her left breast suddenly started aching so fiercely she didn’t know if she could stand it.

“Well, uh, can you? I mean, if you don’t mind?” she asked desperately.

“Of course I don’t mind, my Khalla,” he said gently. “It’s just that…”

“Just that what?” Emily demanded, beginning to get worried. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “It’s just that while I was draining your right breast, your nectar should have started flowing spontaneously from the left. Do you remember what I told you—that a Khalla’s breasts should flow like a fountain when she is in the second stage of Scintil?”

“Yes, of course I remember.” Emily shuddered. “Ugh, I really don’t want that to happen.”

“But it needs to happen,” he said earnestly. “Otherwise your breasts will continue to fill with nectar with no way to relieve them. Well, other than for me to continue draining them for you.”

Emily bit her lip. “Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s…it’s really not fair to ask you to do that. Is there someplace we could buy a breast pump around here?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you seriously suggesting that we use an artificial device to pump the nectar from your breasts?”

Emily shrugged. “Well…yeah? Why not?”

“Because it’s blasphemy,” Tragar said harshly. “Even worse than the sacrilege I commit by sucking it from you with my mouth.”

“Okay, sorry!” Emily threw up her hands but the sudden motion jiggled her full left breast, making her groan. God, it seemed like it hurt even more now that the right breast was back to normal! Why was that?

“Forgive me, my Khalla.” Tragar cupped her full globe, caressing her gently with his big, warm hand. “I should not be debating with you when you are still in pain and need. Allow me to help ease your discomfort.”

Without waiting for a reply, he ducked his head and sucked her left nipple deep into his mouth, taking as much of her breast between his lips at once as he could.

Emily gave a long, low moan of mingled pleasure and release as she felt the deep pressure begin to ease. Before when he’d sucked her, she’d had her eyes tightly closed. This time, though, she watched…watched as the big Kindred sucked her full globe, caressing and massaging her breast to help her release the nectar. She watched the strong column of his throat move as he swallowed, drinking her down, taking all she had to offer and looking for more.

The sight of the big Kindred sucking her breast made her feel hot and breathless. He’s just doing this to help me—that’s all, she told herself. I have to stay in control this time! But her stern lecture to herself didn’t help—she couldn’t help getting aroused all over again. His hot mouth on her tender peak giving her pleasure and relief from the constant pain she’d been in for so long was sexual and healing at the same time. With each deep pull on her nipple, she felt an answering surge in her pussy until she was nearly moaning with desire.

Without thinking about it, she sank down in his lap until she felt the thickness of his shaft brushing against her outer pussy. She had the sudden urge to feel him against her again, to feel him sliding against her as he suckled her nipple in strong, deep pulls. Sinking lower, she felt his thick cock nestle between her pussy lips until he was rubbing against her swollen clit…rubbing in just the right way.

Oh God, feels good…so good!

“Emily…” Tragar stopped sucking for a moment, looking at her warningly.

“What?” she asked hazily. “I’m not…not trying to put it in me. I just want to rub against you some. Is there some law against that? Is it more sacrilege or blasphemy or whatever?”

“No, but it makes it damn hard for me to resist you,” he growled. “Feeling your soft, hot little pussy rubbing against my naked shaft makes me long to breed you which I know I must never do.” He gave one last deep pull on her breast and then sat back. “I am finished now, anyway. It’s time both of us covered ourselves.”

Emily looked down and realized her breasts were the same size now. Which was still larger than she was used to, but not nearly as huge and swollen as they had become ever since she’d entered the second stage of her Shift. No more porn star titties!

“Thank God,” she said aloud, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad that’s over.”

“I’m afraid it’s not.” Tragar looked troubled. “Your nectar is still not flowing spontaneously as it should. And I think I know why—look.” He pinched one of her nipples gently, rolling the turgid pink point between his thumb and forefinger until Emily gasped in mingled pain and pleasure.

“What…why…?” she began.

“Look,” Tragar said again. He was pointing to the thick amber droplet of nectar he’d squeezed from her sensitive peak.

“What’s wrong with it?” Emily asked. “It’s clearer now—not cloudy like it was before.”

“It’s also much thicker than it should be,” Tragar rumbled. “Which is why I had to suck so hard to get it to flow in the first place. Your nectar should be almost as thin as water right now—instead it’s like dabra-berry syrup.”

“I don’t know what a dabra-berry is, but I take it that’s not good?” Emily asked.

He shook his head. “Not good at all.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just get a breast pump? I mean, if it’s so much work…”

“It is my very great pleasure to suck your breasts, my Khalla,” he rumbled, his eyes burning with need. “But even if using a mechanical device to pump out your nectar wasn’t a sacrilege, it would not be possible. Your nectar is simply too thick.”

“What are we going to do?” Emily asked. “I mean, when I, uh, fill up again. Because I will—won’t I?”

“I’m afraid so.” He looked at her gravely. “I will simply have to keep sucking your peaks at regular intervals until the nectar begins to flow spontaneously—if it ever does, that is.”

“I did this to myself, didn’t I?” Emily asked in a small voice. “By putting the star-silver dildo-thing up inside me, I mean.”

“I’m afraid the star-silver is to blame. You, however, are not.” He cupped her cheek. “I take full responsibility for this on myself. I should never have left you in the shuttle where the voice witch could find you.”

“I still don’t remember much about her,” Emily confessed. “Only that she seemed really nice and sweet and that she wanted to help me.”

“That is a false memory,” Tragar said harshly. “She did her level best to harm you, my Khalla. She sent you into the Howlund alone and unarmed at a time when all of the males there were near their Change. You might have been killed.”

Emily shivered. “I admit waking up in the middle of a bunch of horny guys with no idea at all how I’d gotten there wasn’t the best experience I’ve ever had in my life. Three of them tried to attack me—if it hadn’t been for Saskia—”

“Don’t speak of it.” There was a pained look on the big Kindred’s face. “Please, I beg you.”

“All right,” Emily said quickly. “I was just saying that these Wulven Kindred guys are dangerous. Somebody needs to put them on a leash—literally.”

“They are extremely dangerous—even more so when their Beast is near the surface,” Tragar assured her. “You were blessed by the Goddess to have escaped with your life. My point is—you can’t trust anything the voice witch told you. You have to purge her teachings from your mind, Khalla.”

“All right,” Emily said. “I don’t remember much of anything she said anyway. I—” The Black Milk, whispered a tiny voice in the back of her brain. You must drink the Black Milk.

“You what?” Tragar asked, frowning.

“Nothing. I lost my train of thought.” Emily frowned and shook her head. “Look, it’s late. We should get to bed.”

“True.” Tragar pushed her gently off his lap and fastened his trousers. Emily couldn’t help noticing that his shaft was still extremely hard and achy-looking. She felt guilty—what they had done had probably given him the worst case of blue-balls in history. But if so, the big Kindred didn’t say a word about it. He simply nodded at her as he rose from the bed. “I must go and get ready for sleep.”

“All right.” Emily smoothed down her nighty and crawled under the living flower blanket. She was relieved to find that the sheets below it seemed to be made of actual fabric—not petals. “I’ll just…” She yawned. “Just wait for you here.”

“As you wish.” Tragar stroked a strand of hair from her face tenderly. “Pleasant dreams, my Khalla.”

“Thank…” Emily yawned again. “Thank you,” she finally managed to get out. She thought he answered something but she didn’t catch his words. Now that the constant ache and pressure in her breasts had eased she felt relaxed and sleepy. It had been a very, very long day and suddenly she couldn’t hold her eyelids open one more second.

Her last sight was of the big Kindred walking towards the fresher but her eyes closed before she could see him pass through the curtain of vines.

* * * * *

Tragar went into the fresher, ostensibly to get changed into the blue sleep trousers his old Master had loaned him. Actually, though, he needed time to himself—private time.

He stripped down and turned on the shower, getting into the coldest spray he could stand—then he turned it even colder. Control—he must regain control! But every time his shaft started to go down, he remembered the soft moans Emily made when he sucked her breasts…or the hot feeling of her sweet pussy wrapped around the head of his shaft…or the sweet, forbidden taste of her nectar…

Gods, what have I done? He had committed the worst kind of sacrilege known to his people and now it seemed he must continue committing the same blasphemous act over and over again, sucking the nectar from Emily’s breasts because it refused to thin and flow as it should.

Shouldn’t have swallowed it, at least. Should have spit it out, he told himself. But she’d already asked him if he didn’t think it was “gross” to ask him to relieve her need by suckling her breasts. As if such a thing could be possible! But for some reason she was insecure about her body, especially since the Tenrah was causing it to change so dramatically. Tragar hadn’t wanted her to feel she was disgusting him when nothing could be farther than the truth. In fact, he felt honored beyond measure that she would trust him to do such a thing, especially considering the pain in her past.

But if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t only his wish to keep Emily from feeling bad about her body and the service he was performing for her that made him swallow her nectar rather than expelling it from his mouth. Her nectar had been too sweet—to deliciously addictive to lose a single drop. Though he knew what he had done was wrong, he could scarcely wait to do it again. Could scarcely wait to hold her warm, willing body in his arms and hear her moan for him as he pulled her tight peaks deep into his mouth.

This is why drinking the nectar of a Khalla is forbidden, he thought. Or one of the reasons, anyway. Once her nectar fills your mouth you want nothing more than to possess her completely.

It was true—a Khalla was considered a national treasure—an entity who had to be free to wander the world, dispensing healing and fertility wherever she went. She could not be tied to one male—not even her chosen mate. She was meant to go among the people and bring them hope and strengthen their faith in the Goddess. How could she do that if she was being kept under lock and key by some jealous male who wanted nothing but to keep her and her sweet nectar for himself?

It was wrong and already he felt the impulse to keep her close, to never let her go. Tragar fought it but he feared it was a losing battle.

No, he told himself sternly as the icy water flowed over his still rigid shaft. It is not for one such as I to possess the love of a Khalla. I do not deserve her—not after all I’ve done. I must get her safely to the Holy Mountains of Rageron and then resign myself to giving her up to another male—a male more worthy and pure of heart than I.

Just the thought of that—the idea of another male’s hands on Emily’s soft, supple body, was enough to bring a low, possessive growl to his throat. Tragar swallowed it with difficulty. He had to fight these feelings—feelings which he’d believed were dead and buried with his beloved Landra. But how could he fight the feelings of love and need if he had to continue to suck the delicious nectar from his Khalla’s breasts and hear her moan his name each time the sweet release made her come? Tragar didn’t know.

Oh, he was in trouble here…so much fucking trouble…

* * * * *

“According to the spybot the female is fine and all of the star-silver devices have been removed.” Y shut off the viewscreen which he had been using to view the somewhat distorted images sent by the small, furry genetically altered rodent his Master had sent to spy on the Earth female.

“Yes, it is most inconvenient,” Master Two buzzed like an annoying insect in Y’s brain.

“What shall we do about it?” Y asked. “Do you want me to kill her now?”

“No, of course not, you idiot! Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Because you told me that you wanted the girl dead.”

“I also told you I wanted the Verrak assassin to care for her before she died. You do not understand the subtleties of the situation, Y. He cares for her but I want him to care more—I want to see them bonded before we tear them apart.”

“Bonded?” The word sounded strangely natural in his mouth yet Y didn’t know what it meant.

“Yes, yes—bonded!” the Master hissed impatiently. “It is a life-long tie which forms between a Kindred and his chosen female when they give themselves to each other completely. Our assassin friend was bonded once before and he lost the female he loved and yet survived. I do not think he will survive a second loss but we shall see…”

“So their love must be complete before we kill them?” Y didn’t like the idea a bit—again, it seemed needlessly cruel. But who was he to criticize the Master?

“Exactly. So they must get closer quickly. And do you know what brings people together?”

“I have no idea,” Y said honestly.

“Adversity. So let’s throw a little in the way of our lovely couple, shall we?” The Master cackled wildly in his head. “Let’s see what the Verrak say when they find out that the contract I paid for still has not been fulfilled.”

And Y’s head was filled with his mad laugher—laughter that went on and on and would not cease, no matter how he wished it would.

Chapter Twenty

“This is the place.” Kate looked around, her fiery red ringlets moving in the slight breeze. “This is the right school—I know it.”

“But it’s not called George Washington Elementary,” Rone objected, gesturing to the lettering on the brick side of the administration building. “It says ‘Center for Academic Excellence’.”

“I don’t care.” Kate narrowed her clear green eyes, almost as though she could see past the letters and right through the side of the school to something else. “This is it—no question. It feels right. And besides, it’s the place I saw in that big Havoc’s head and the dream.”

“Then it must be so.” Rone inhaled, taking in the myriad of smells that swirled around the long brick building they stood in front of. He wished he had just a whiff of the missing girl’s scent to start with. If he knew what she smelled like, he could track her to the ends of the Earth with no problem. But all they had was a vague idea of what she looked like, the name of the school she worked for, and her last name.

It wasn’t much to go on but he and Kate were doing their best. For a little while they’d been certain they had her—there was a George Washington Elementary in the state of North Carolina which felt right and had a Ms. Brooks working there.

However, when they got there, Ms. Brooks had turned out to be an older female on the edge of retirement, who had been happily joined to an Earth male for the past forty years. The false lead had been incredibly frustrating—especially since they knew the girl they were seeking was in grave danger and might be killed at any moment.

Then Kate had been woken in the middle of the night by a Knowing dream—a kind of vision which occurred very rarely. In fact, Rone had only known her to have three other such dreams in the three years they had been joined.

It scared him to fucking death when she had them because of their effect on Kate. He’d been holding her when this one occurred, watching her sleep because he loved the look of peace on her beautiful face.

Without warning, she had gone stiff in his arms. Then her eyes rolled up, showing only the whites while her petite body trembled all over. It looked like she was having some kind of a deadly seizure and indeed, the first time it happened, he’d been sure she was. This time, however, he’d recognized the signs and waited with a pounding heart to hear what she had to say.

“Tampa…” Kate had whispered in a soft, ghostly voice that sent chills down his spine. “The girl is in Tampa. Look to the North of the city…find her there…or find where she has been. Her loss is great for she is the one…beloved of the Goddess…”

Rone had waited a moment but there was no more forthcoming. Just Kate rigid as a board in his arms, her face pale and dreaming.

“Kate? Lalli?” he’d asked anxiously, using his pet nickname for her and patting her cheek. Lalli meant girl cub or little girl among the Wulven people. It was how she’d looked to him when he first met her—before he realized her diminutive size wasn’t due to extreme youth or inexperience.

Even after finding out she was a fully grown female, the nickname had stuck. Kate didn’t seem to mind—in fact, she’d confessed that she rather liked feeling little and protected when she was with him, though she fiercely resented any implication that she was small or helpless from anyone else.

At that moment, as she trembled in his lap, she had seemed so fragile. Rone was frightened, as he always was, that she wouldn’t come back this time. Finally, though, her eyelids fluttered.

“What?” She had looked around, obviously confused. “What happened?”

At the sound of her voice and the recognition in her eyes, he felt his heart resume its normal rhythm.

“You had a dream, Lalli,” he’d said, his voice coming out hoarse with concern. “One of those damn Knowing dreams. Are you all right?”

“I am now. Now that I’m safe in your arms, being your Lalli,” she’d whispered.

“You’ll always be my Lalli,” Rone had assured her, cuddling her close to his bare chest. She snuggled like a little cub against him and he could feel how cold she was from the dream. He drew her closer, wanting to warm her up and she sighed contentedly against him.

Rone felt his heart swell. Kate hadn’t had a father growing up and he knew she liked curling up close to him and feeling safe and loved in the arms of a protective male, as she never had when she was younger. Out in public she was tough as nails—ready to stand down anyone, no matter how much bigger they were than her. She even had a gun—a projectile weapon from Earth—and could be deadly with it. But in the privacy of their bed chamber, she was his sweet little Lalli, small and cuddly and more than willing to let Rone shelter and protect and love her.

He adored their time together, cherishing and petting his loving mate. They might look mismatched on the outside but they fit together like two pieces of a whole. Which was one reason he got so worried and upset when she had one of those damn Knowing dreams, he thought, glancing at her now.

She was still looking around and he saw her nod to herself once, as though finalizing something in her mind. This school might have a different name from the one that the big Havoc had seen in his vision, but it had to be the right one. Kate was never wrong about what she saw in her Knowing dreams.

“Come on,” she said, taking his hand. “Let’s go in and talk to somebody. I’ll take the lead this time.” She gave him an exasperated but loving glance. “You scare the shinola out of people.”

“Not all of them,” Rone protested as he let her lead him into the administration building. “It’s not my fault that the last school clerk was a Sensitive, like you, and could sense the Beast inside me.”

Not all humans could put their finger on why he bothered them so much. But some, like Kate—and the last school official they had spoken to at the facility in North Carolina—were attuned to otherworldly things. They caught sight of him and knew something was different about him. Something besides his slightly pointed ears and glowing blue eyes—not to mention his huge, muscular form. They sensed his Beast—the creature within him that would spring free and rip them apart if Rone hadn’t been holding it on an iron leash at all times.

These humans or “Sensitives” as Rone thought of them, all had the same reaction to him—they grew pale and began to back away. All but Kate. The first time she’d seen him, her face had gone pale, all right—as white as snow. But she had stood her ground instead of trying to run. “Who are you?” she’d asked him. Then, narrowing her eyes, “And what are you?”

Rone had tried to put her off—feeling she was too small and delicate to be anywhere near the voracious Beast that raged inside him. But Kate wouldn’t go. Her courage and her stubborn refusal to leave him alone, even though she clearly sensed what he was and feared it, had earned his respect…and then his devotion and love.

His only regret was that she had never fully tamed his Beast. Oh, they had been introduced and because of Kate’s special gift she’d been able to make the wild, dangerous thing inside him a kind of acquaintance. But she was too small, too fragile to risk letting her meet his Beast in person, while he was in his fur-form. She had wanted to try but Rone had forbidden it. He locked himself away on nights he felt the Change coming on him and didn’t reemerge until the morning when it was safe to be around her.

The omission made their relationship unusual but it didn’t affect their bond—at least he was fairly sure it didn’t. And it certainly didn’t change the way he felt about her. Truly, there was no one as fearless and beautiful as his mate, he thought as he ducked his head to get through the stupidly tiny, human-sized doorway. Gods, how he loved her!

“I love you too, honey,” Kate sent back through their link. “Now let’s get down to business.”

Inside the doorway, a long countertop bisected the room into front and back sections. At the back were several desks with computers and other communications devices as well as plentiful piles of paperwork scattered across them. A plump, pleasant looking woman with light brown hair gathered in a bun at the back of her neck and thick oculars the humans called “glasses” was sitting at one of them.

“Hello, how can I help you?” she asked, looking up from her computer screen.

“Hi there, we’re new to this area and we’re looking for the best place for our daughter, Bella, to go to second grade.” Kate stepped up to the counter, smiling. “I was told by a lady at work this was a good choice.”

“Oh, where do you work?” the woman asked, smiling back.

“Tower Diagnostic,” Kate replied at once. She always did some research into any area where they were tracking, which meant she never had trouble backing up their cover story. “I’m an MRI tech. And my hubby here is a Kindred medic but he’s working at TGH now, teaching some of the local doctors Kindred medical techniques.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” The woman’s smile faltered and she looked at Rone uneasily. “We, uh, I don’t think we have any other Kindred children here.”

“You don’t?” Kate raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that a problem?”

“Oh, no—of course not!” the woman said hastily. “Everyone is welcome at our school—we value diversity.”

Even from across the room Rone could smell the tinge of fear in her scent. Did she sense what he was or was she just unsettled by having a large Kindred warrior so close? It hadn’t been that long ago that the Kindred were briefly at war with the humans but that was over now and the two races were at peace.

“Well, that’s good. Anyway, I heard from my new friend that this is the school to be at,” Kate continued brightly.

“Well, yes.” The woman’s voice filled with pride. “George Washington Elementary has always had the highest standards. In fact, we’re the number one choice school in all of Hillsborough County.”

Kate and Rone shared a look. “George Washington Elementary?” Kate sent through their link.

“Looks like your dream was right,” Rone sent back.

“Is that right?” he rumbled aloud, daring to join the conversation. “But the sign outside says ‘The Center for Academic Excellence.”

“Oh, I keep forgetting!” The woman put a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry—we were GWE for years and years. The name change is really recent—our principal pushed it through because she thought it sounded better.”

“It does sound nice,” Kate said earnestly, carefully concealing the excitement Rone could feel bubbling inside her. “My friend said you have the highest quality of education, the best teachers—in fact, she mentioned one teacher in particular—Ms. Brooks I think? She said her son had Ms. Brooks and she really helped him achieve his academic potential.”

The woman behind the desk frowned. “Well, we do have a teacher by that name here—or we did. She’s not here right now and hasn’t been for a few days.”

“Oh? I hope she’s not sick,” Kate said anxiously. “I was really hoping to meet her. She sounded perfect for Bella. She has ADHD just like my friend’s little boy and I was hoping to find someone really patient and caring.”

“Well, Ms. Brooks teaches kindergarten so your daughter wouldn’t be in her class anyway,” the woman said. “But I think you’ll find all our teachers are patient and caring.”

“Oh, that’s disappointing—about Ms. Brooks, I mean.” Kate sighed. “But since we’re here anyway, do you think we could take a quick tour?”

“Well…” The woman frowned uncertainly. “We generally like to schedule that kind of thing—”

“We really have to make up our mind about schools quickly though,” Kate said, widening her big green eyes earnestly. “It’s between this one and Colbert Academy, down the road. They’ve already sent an acceptance letter for Bella and we only have until today to tell them if we want the spot or not.”

The woman behind the desk bristled. “Colbert Academy might be private but they have nothing on GWE—I mean, CFAE,” she corrected herself hastily. “I’ll tell you what, school is out right now so you can’t really see things in action, so to speak, but you can at least get a tour of the grounds. Come on through.” She nodded at the open end of the countertop.

Kate went through and Rone followed, making sure to keep his mate between himself and the school official in case the human female was a Sensitive. Luckily, she was leading the way so it was easy to keep distance between them.

“Now, I can’t stay out of the office long because I’m the only one here,” she was saying to Kate, who was nodding attentively. “But I’ll give you the general layout and you can wander around for five or ten minutes to see what you think. I’m sure you’ll find we have a beautiful campus. Now the media center is in that direction…and over there is the cafeteria…”

She went on, pointing out various buildings and structures but Rone was only half listening. He lifted his head again and scented the air. He caught a smell that seemed strange and out of place. It was faint and several days old but still detectable to his incredibly sensitive Wulven nose. Could that be…Beast Kindred? He sniffed again. It is—it has to be. But what the hell would a Beast Kindred be doing here?

Well, possibly the same thing he was pretending to do. There were more Kindred living topside on Earth now so it was possible that one of them might be the father to a child going to this school. But the woman from the front desk had mentioned that she didn’t think they had any other Kindred children attending here. So if that was the case, why was there a Kindred scent in the air?

Up ahead, the woman seemed to be winding down her talk.

“…and that over there is the kindergarten and first grade wing,” she was telling Kate. “Of course, that’s not where your daughter…”

“Bella,” Kate supplied quickly.

“Oh, right—such a pretty name! Anyway, that’s not where she’d be but they have some really cute artwork up if you look at the bulletin boards on the outside of each classroom.”

“Thank you!” Kate smiled at her. “It’s so sweet of you to let us have a look around so we can make up our minds.”

“I’m sure you’ll find that GWE—sorry—CFAE is the best school around.” The woman smiled back but just then the phone started ringing from inside the office. “Oh, excuse me—I have to get that!”

“Go right ahead,” Kate told her. “We’re just going to have a quick look around and we’ll be back in a minute.”

“All right then, have fun!” With a final wave, the woman disappeared back into the office, finally leaving them alone.

“Whew,” Kate said under her breath when the office door was safely closed. “I thought she’d never leave!” Then she took a closer look at Rone, who was still sniffing the air. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” He frowned. “A scent that doesn’t belong but I can’t figure out why it would be here.”

“You think you should follow it?”

He shook his head. “Maybe in a minute. Right now, let’s go down to the kippergarden classrooms and see if I can get a scent for the girl.”

“That’s kindergarten,” Kate said, smiling.

Rone shrugged. “Whatever it is, if we can get into her classroom to catch her scent, I’ll have a much easier time finding her.”

“All right, let’s go.” Kate led the way and he followed, still bothered by the faint whiff of Beast Kindred in the air.

The school was a series of long, beige, brick buildings all connected by covered walkways. Each classroom door had the name of the teacher and many had large rectangular bulletin boards covered in artwork or essays in childish script. “How I spent my Summer” and “My plans for the future” and similar themes.

At last they came to a classroom with the name “E Brooks” on the plate. The bulletin board outside it was hung with colorful self-portraits of children holding books. “Miss Brook’s Reading Rainbows” was written at the top of the board in letters cut from multicolored paper.

“Aww, look at that,” Kate said, smiling. “She had them all draw a picture of themselves holding their favorite book! How cute!”

“Adorable,” Rone muttered, trying the door handle, which was locked. “But not terribly helpful from a scent perspective. All I can smell is wax, ink, and paper.”

He was about to force the door open as quietly as possible—he was easily strong enough to break the lock—when a voice behind them startled him.

“Hi, can I help you with something?”

Rone and Kate whirled around to see a slender blonde female with blue eyes and an uncertain look on her face.

“Oh, hi!” Kate slipped into character at once. “Our little girl goes to Miss Brook’s class and we think she left her lunchbox in the classroom.”

“She does, does she?” The woman narrowed her eyes. “What’s her name?”

“Bella,” Kate said.

“I don’t remember Emily—ah, Miss Brooks—having a Bella in her classroom.”

“Well, that’s because she just started here yesterday,” Kate said quickly. “We’re new in town—just moved here. Only the second day of school and she’s already losing things—kids, right?”

“Yeah, they do that.” The woman seemed to relax a little and returned Kate’s rueful smile with one of her own. “Well, Emily isn’t here right now but I have a spare key to her classroom. I can let you in to look around but only for a minute.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Miss…” Kate held out her hand, her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, I’m sorry—I’m Miss Lane—Julia Lane. I teach the class right beside Emily’s and she’s my friend.” She took Kate’s offered hand and Rone could tell his mate was “reading” her as she always did when she made deliberate physical contact with a new person. He wondered what she was seeing.

“We heard lots of good things about Miss Brooks but Bella says she’s been absent the past two days,” Kate said, still keeping a firm grip on the other woman’s hand.

“Well, yes. Emily has been…absent for personal reasons.” The woman’s voice faltered and Rone smelled a change in her scent—she was worried and uncertain suddenly.

“Oh dear, I hope she’s all right!” Kate said, releasing the other woman’s hand at last so she could unlock the classroom.

“I’m sure she’ll be just fine,” the human female said a little too brightly. “Okay, there you go. I can only give you a minute to look, though, and then I have to lock up.”

“Of course, thank you so much!” Kate smiled at her and then nodded at Rone. “Come on, honey—you look in the front and I’ll look in the back.” She nodded him in the direction of the large desk in the back which was clearly the teacher’s.

“I can help too, if you like,” Julia Lane said, stepping in. “Do you know where she sits?”

“I’m not sure, exactly,” Kate said, frowning. “But the lunchbox is one of those Frozen ones. You know—with Elsa and Anna?”

“Oh, of course!” The teacher laughed. “I swear over half my class has the same thing—even some of the boys. They all just love that movie.”

“Tell me about it!” Kate exclaimed. “We’ve had it playing in our house twenty-four seven for months now. I swear if I have to hear that one song again…”

“Let it Go!” Miss Lane was nodding. “Oh my God, yes! They sing it at the drop of a hat—and they’ll drop the hat themselves!”

Grateful for his mate’s masterful distraction, Rone left them giggling like a couple of little girls and made his way over to the teacher’s desk in the back corner. The papers and folders weren’t much help but hanging on the back of the chair he found a light piece of clothing he thought the humans called a “sweater.” Picking it up, he brought it as unobtrusively as he could to his nose.

There were two different scents on the sweater but one was much stronger. Rone thought the stronger scent probably belonged to the owner and the weaker one was probably just from someone who had been sitting in the chair without bothering to move it. Could the stronger scent belong to Emily Brooks? Inside the pocket of the sweater was a small scrap of stretchy fabric with a few strands of blondish-brown hair clinging to it.

“Hey, what are you doing with Emily’s sweater?” Julia Lane’s voice caught him by surprise.

“Forgive me.” Rone turned to see she was right behind him. Hastily, he put it down, pocketing the fabric scrap he’d found as unobtrusively as he could. “I was just looking at it because my mate, er, wife has one just like it.”

“Oh my God, I do—just like it!” Kate exclaimed, coming to stand by him. “Or I did before it got ruined in the dryer. Do you know where Miss Brooks got it?”

“Oh, uh, actually no.” The suspicious look faded from the teacher’s face. “Well, I really have to get going,” she said, giving them an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry you couldn’t find your daughter’s lunchbox.”

“That’s okay.” Kate sighed dramatically. “She’ll just have to use her old Tangled lunchbox until she can remember where she left it. She won’t like it, but maybe it will teach her a lesson.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Julia Lane said, laughing as she ushered them out of the classroom and locked the door securely behind them. “You should see the lost and found boxes by the end of the year—they’re just overflowing!”

“Yes, we checked there first.” Kate shook her head. “No luck. It’s probably under the couch cushions or something.”

“Could be.” The teacher smiled politely and Rone had the feeling she was ready to be gone.

“Well, thank you for everything. And I do hope Miss Brooks will be back soon,” Kate said. “Do you know when that might be?”

“No, I…I’m afraid I don’t.” A strained and troubled look passed over the human female’s pretty face. “But I hope so too.” She nodded at them and turned away, still looking worried.

“Emily Brooks is the one—she’s missing and her friend is worried about her,” Rone sent through the mental link he shared with his mate as the other woman left, her footsteps fading on the concrete walkway.

“Yes, very worried. I saw it when I shook her hand. Did you get what you needed?” Kate sent back.

Rone nodded and brought the stretchy piece of elastic carefully out of his pocket. Lifting it to his nose, he inhaled. It had the same scent as the sweater—it must have belonged to Emily Brooks.

“A hair scrunchy!” Kate exclaimed in a low voice. “Perfect! And I got enough from Emily’s friend to have a general idea of where she lives—let’s go!”

They left the school and it only took a few minutes of circling around the neighborhood for Kate to point to a little house mostly hidden by dense tropical growth. “There!”

They parked out front but found their way blocked by yellow police tape.

“What’s this?” Rone frowned, looking at it. It crossed the front porch and stretched across the doorway.

“Crime scene.” Kate sounded grim. “Could be a murder was committed here.” She put a hand to her head. “Are we too late? But if Emily Brooks was killed, I’m sure her friend would have said something instead of covering for her like she did.”

Rone lifted his head and inhaled deeply.

“There is the scent of old blood coming from behind the house but it doesn’t smell of Emily—it’s a human male. Her scent is very strong here, though. And there’s something else…” He sniffed again and frowned.

“What is it?” Kate asked eagerly. “Who is it?”

“A Beast Kindred,” Rone said. “It’s the same scent I picked up at the school—the one that didn’t belong.”

“But how can that be? Do you think she was claimed as a bride?”

“I don’t think so—there would be no need for the crime scene tape in that case. Let me mark it out.” He turned and sniffed around the driveway and the front yard area which was beginning to get overgrown, as though no one had trimmed it for awhile. For that, Rone was glad. The scent of freshly cut grass would have masked the old scents he was trying to follow. This way he was able to track and get an idea of who had been here.

Kate was quiet for a while, letting him work. She knew he needed to concentrate. At last he looked up, frowning.

“There were a great many people trampling through here—not just Emily and the Beast Kindred.”

“Maybe the police?” Kate suggested. “Looking for her?”

“Possibly. Many of the strange scents have the smells of metal and leather mixed in with them.”

“From guns and holsters maybe,” Kate said thoughtfully. “Definitely police.”

“Yes, but none of them is mixed with Emily’s scent. In fact, there’s only one other that mixes with hers other than the Beast Kindred.” Rone took another deep whiff. “It’s a human male and his blood was spilled too. Not as much as the scent coming from the back of the house, but enough that he might have been badly wounded.”

“Can you follow it?” Kate asked eagerly.

Rone nodded. “I might be able to. It’s several days old but it’s strong.”

“Let’s go then! Maybe whoever it was can tell us what happened to Emily.”

* * * * *

Kate drove this time, letting Rone stick his head out the window like an oversized bloodhound to follow the scent. No one but a Wulven would have been able to follow an old scent trail like this, she was sure. But Rone had an incredibly sensitive nose—a hundred times more sensitive than the bloodhound she’d been comparing him too—and he was able to lead them to the source of the smell.

They parked outside a large house a few miles away from Emily’s place, located in a much nicer and more expensive neighborhood. A luxury car was parked outside but it didn’t look like it had been used in the past few days—there was a light covering of pollen on the outer windshield.

Rone pulled his head back in and rolled up the car window.

“This is the place—I’m pretty sure the scent is a human male. You’d better let me go first.”

Kate sighed at his over-protectiveness.

“Come on now, honey, you know I can take care of myself. I’ve got my brand new Glock right here.” She patted her jacket which concealed her gun. It was much nicer than the old one she’d left at her mother’s old house in Mississippi when she and Rone were joined. “Just let me go up first. If you go you’ll scare the bejesus out of him and he’ll clam up.”

“You can go first but I’ll follow close behind,” Rone decided. “I don’t fully trust these human males.”

Kate stifled a laugh at this. As if any human guy—no matter how powerful or built—could be as scary and dangerous as a Wulven Kindred! Her man had a ravenous Beast living inside him—something like a wolf but about three times bigger and much, much more ferocious. Until she had become better acquainted with it, just being near him had been like defusing a bomb—an angry bomb that wanted to rip her head off. It was one reason the other Kindred were reluctant to make a trade with the Wulven people. Only the Beast Kindred didn’t seem to mind, probably because they had a wild side themselves.

She went up the steps to the front porch and rang the bell with Rone a few steps behind her. It took a moment but finally she heard the shuffling sound of footsteps and the door was opened by a tall blond man with drug hazy eyes.

“Yeah? What c’n I do for you?” His speech was slightly slurred, as if he was on something. When the door opened a little more, Kate could see why. His right hand was attached to some kind of metal plate with all kinds of wires and bars sticking out of it. It looked like it had been thoroughly pulped and some orthopedic surgeon had tried to put him back together without much success.

“Hi, I’m Kate,” she said brightly. “And you are…?”

“Grayson. Richard Grayson.” His drugged eyes sharpened a little. “What do you want?”

“I’m a PI hired by the parents of Emily Brooks,” Kate lied glibly. “We’re trying to find her last known whereabouts and we were told that you might have some information for us.”

“What?” His eyes went from mildly annoyed to wary in a heartbeat. “Who told you that? I don’t know where Emily went so just leave me alone!”

He started to shut the door but Rone was suddenly there, holding it open effortlessly, even though by this time Grayson was straining with all his might to close it.

“I don’t think so,” her mate rumbled, his glowing blue eyes flashing. “I think you do know something about Emily. You still have her scent on you. And are these her teeth marks?” He pulled Grayson’s collar to one side, exposing bruised and torn skin with some very human looking bite marks.

Kate frowned. “Wow, somebody really worked this guy over? You really think it was Emily?” she sent to Rone silently.

“I don’t know but we’re going to find out.”

He forced his way inside and Kate followed though Grayson was complaining and threatening the entire time.

“Look,” she said, turning to him as Rone shut the front door firmly behind them. “We just need answers to a few questions and then we’ll leave you alone.”

“I don’t know anything about Emily.” He glared at them resentfully. “And I don’t care what she told you—she attacked me—not the other way around!”

“She did, huh?” Kate studied him thoughtfully. This guy, Grayson, lived in a nice house and drove a nice car. He had good hair and generically handsome features but there was something off about him—something she didn’t like. The psychic stink that rose from someone with a rotten soul. It was almost like someone with a rotten tooth will have bad breath. She was betting if Emily had attacked him, she’d had a good reason to do it.

“Yeah, she did,” Grayson said sullenly. “She just went crazy—tore into my neck for no reason—no reason at all!”

“Did she do that to your arm and hand?” Rone asked. “She must be a pretty strong female.”

“No, this was done by that other guy—that weird Kindred in the black vest.” Grayson made a vague motion with his unhurt hand. “Big guy—almost as big as you—long, black hair, yellow eyes. Looked like a professional wrestler.”

“Was he a Beast Kindred?” Rone asked.

Grayson shrugged. “I don’t know—maybe. Sure as hell did a number on my hand—again for no reason.”

Kate wasn’t buying the whole ‘Oh, I’m so innocent and people beat me up for no reason’ routine. Grayson must have done something to set off both Emily and the Beast Kindred who seemed somehow tied to her. But to find out what it was, she’d need to do a reading. Inwardly, she sighed. It was probably going to be really unpleasant digging around in the mind of a man like Grayson—but it was necessary to know what was going on.

“Mr. Grayson, thank you for your time,” she said, holding out her hand to shake.

“Sorry, um…” He started to reach with his hurt hand and then held out his left instead, awkwardly.

Kate took him by the fingertips and concentrated hard. She didn’t try to mute the sensation as she had when she read the Havoc’s memories back on the Mother Ship or the nice teacher at the school—they needed this information too desperately to be gentle. Instead, she dived right in, trying to get to the heart of the matter. Immediately a barrage of images—none of them pleasant—slammed into her brain.

“Whoa—hey!” Grayson pulled his hand away. “What did you do to me? That felt weird!”

“It’s about to feel weirder,” Kate said grimly. She looked up at Rone. “Hold him—I need to go in deep.”

Her mate stepped up and gripped Grayson by the shoulders.

“Listen up, human,” he growled, letting just a bit of his Beast out. “Unless you want your left hand to end up like your right one, you’ll be still and let my mate read you.”

Grayson took one look at his glowing blue eyes and slightly shifted features and began to whimper.

“All right—whatever—just don’t hurt my other hand!” he moaned.

“Be quiet and hold still,” Kate commanded. Bracing herself, she reached up and pressed her fingertips to the side of his face. Then she dove in, determined to find out what was going on, even if it hurt like Hell.

“No, leave me alone! Don’t touch me!” A scared girl with brownish blonde hair and pale blue eyes was scrambling away. Fear and loathing was written all over her face but for some reason these emotions excited Grayson. Kate couldn’t see him—these memories were from his point of view so for all intents and purposes she was him—but she could feel the excitement welling up from his rotten soul. He was terrorizing this girl who must be Emily Brooks and he was getting a sexual charge out of it.

Sick bastard! Kate wished she could get away from him and go take a hot shower but she had to know what had happened to Emily—she had no choice but to go even deeper. She heard Emily accuse him of raping her and continued watching as Grayson kept advancing, clearly intent on assaulting her again. It made Kate sick but somehow she held on, needing to know the whole story.

Then Emily changed somehow—her eyes went from pale blue to glowing gold and her hair, which had been limp dishwater blonde only moments before turned into a lustrous, black curly mane.

Kate frowned—she’d only seen this kind of dramatic physical shift when she’d witnessed Rone change partially into his beast. He was always careful not to go too far though—not to let too much of it out when he was around her. But Emily didn’t grow fur or fangs, only her eyes and hair changed.

Suddenly Emily pounced! Kate felt Grayson’s fear and agony as she latched onto his neck and began to rip and tear. It seemed like she would rip his throat out but suddenly a tall Kindred warrior with black hair and golden eyes much like Emily’s own was pulling her off Grayson.

The Beast Kindred started speaking soothingly to Emily, calling her “Khalla.” Kate frowned—where had she heard that term before? It seemed like someone had said it to her the one and only time she’d visited Rone’s home planet with him.

There was a lot more—the Kindred threatening to kill Grayson and telling Emily she wasn’t safe, that he had been sent to kill her—that he was one of the Verrak—

Oh my God—the Verrak! The Beast Kindred is the assassin! He’s the one that was sent to kill Emily. But instead he…

Instead he dragged Grayson to his car and pulverized his hand and arm, making sure, as he said, that Grayson could never touch a woman against her will again. Then he let Grayson escape in his car and walked back up to Emily’s house. At least, that was the last view Grayson had of him in his memories.

Kate released her hold on his face with relief. She still felt the need for a hot shower, to wash away the psychic slime of diving into a rancid mind like Grayson’s, but at least now they knew what had happened to Emily.

“So he let you go because she told him not to kill you,” she said to Grayson, who was still whimpering in Rone’s grip.

“I never would have hurt her—he didn’t have to break my hand,” Grayson moaned. “I told the police all about it—how she attacked me and then he practically maimed me. They were probably both on drugs.”

“And what happened to Emily after all this?” Rone demanded. “Where did she go?”

“Dunno.” Grayson shrugged sullenly. “They ran off together, I guess—probably to score more drugs. Anyway, that’s what the police think.”

“They did leave together but they weren’t looking for drugs,” Kate said, eying him contemptuously. Her fingers itched to go for her gun but she restrained herself. Such scum didn’t deserve to live but it looked like the Beast Kindred had already done a pretty good job of punishing him. She turned to her mate. “Rone,” she said. “I think I’ve got it—I know where she is. Or at least, what happened to her.”

* * * * *

“Thank you for seeing us.” Rone bowed to Commander Sylvan and the rest of the Kindred High Council. “The good news is that Kate and I tracked Emily Brooks to the school she works at and from there to her house. The bad news is, she’s already been taken.”

“Then we are too late to save her,” Commander Sylvan looked deeply troubled. “Gods…” He shook his head. “I hate to think what kind of torment the poor little female must be going through.”

“No, we don’t believe we’re too late.” Kate, said, taking up the narrative from Rone. “Emily was taken but she wasn’t killed.”

“The Verrak most often leave the body of their kills in plain sight, to prove their job is done,” Rone continued. “But we don’t believe that the one who took Emily intends to kill her.”

Briefly, he outlined everything Kate had learned from reading the rapist’s mind. Commander Sylvan listened, his pale blue eyes widening.

“I have heard of the Khalla—my half brother, Baird, is a Beast Kindred. But I thought they were extremely rare—how would one end up so far from Rageron in the first place?”

“We have no idea,” Kate said. “But we speculate that he might be taking her back there.”

“So you truly don’t think he intends to kill her?” Commander Sylvan asked hopefully.

Rone shook his head. “As you probably know, the Beast Kindred venerate Khallas. Even one that had gone rogue, as this one seems to have done, would be unable to kill a female he considered a sacred representation of the Goddess.”

“Possibly, but I’d still like to be certain she’s all right.” Commander Sylvan frowned. “I’d like the two of you to continue to track Emily Brooks and report back to me on her whereabouts and safety.”

“It might take some time to locate her on Rageron but we’ll be happy to, Commander.” Rone nodded.

“Absolutely,” Kate echoed. “I feel for that girl—she’s had a hard life.”

“And it’s likely to get harder in the near future,” Rone said grimly. “As I understand it, the initiation ceremony for a Khalla is…complicated.”

“Go—find her.” Commander Sylvan nodded at them. “Restock your ship with whatever you need and tell the Transport officer to fold space for you. We must make sure this girl is safe—we must protect her at all costs!”

Chapter Twenty-one

“Be well, my friend. The Goddess alone knows when we may meet again.”

Saskia embraced her warmly and Emily hugged her back, trying to be careful of her breasts which were very tender this morning. She’d had a night of strange dreams about red eyes staring at her from the darkness and had woken with the feeling that someone had been whispering in her ear all night. It was a weird and slightly creepy sensation which left her grumpy and out of sorts. But she tried to put her irritation aside, knowing this might be the last time she got to see Saskia.

“I wish we weren’t going so soon,” she said, smiling sadly at her new friend. “I would have liked to get to know you a little better.”

“And I, you.” Saskia sighed. “Maybe once you are finished with your Tenrah you may be able to return to our humble planet for a short visit—if the Holy Council allows it.”

“What do you mean if they allow it?” Emily frowned. “Who are they, anyway? And what do they have to say about where I go?”

Saskia’s eyes widened.

“Why, they are the Elders in the Holy Mountains of Rageron. They deal with all of the Khalla, so they do.”

“Deal with them in what way? Tell them what to do? Where to go?”

“Of course. A Khalla is a treasure to be cherished by all. The Elders see to that.”

“You mean to tell me some group of old men are going to run my life once we get to Rageron?” Emily was beginning to get upset. “Who are they that they should say what I do and where I go?”

“The Elders are both male and female and they are chosen by the Goddess to guide her Khallas.” Saskia looked a little shocked at her no-doubt blasphemous words. “Don’t worry, Emily—they’ll send you where you’re most needed.”

“Send me where I’m needed? What does that mean?”

“Well, if there’s a region with drought or famine…or one where many have been injured in a war or ravaged by disease…some Khalla’s have even been known to go into the Deep Blue if they are needed there.”

“What?” Emily demanded. “What do I look like—the freaking Red Cross? I mean, I’m all for pitching in if there’s a disaster or something but I don’t want to spend my whole life going from one disaster to the next like some kind of weird mascot! I teach kindergarten—I work with children.”

“And so you will—there are sure to be some orphanages where healing is needed.” Saskia stroked her arm soothingly. “I’m sorry I got you all riled up, so I am. Forgive me, Emily and please don’t worry about the future.”

“Of course I worry about the future—I’m turning into a whole other person! Someone I don’t even know is going to take over my body and live my life and it won’t even be my life apparently—it’s going to be whatever a bunch of dried up old men tell me to do,” Emily snapped.

Saskia’s eyes widened.

“Do you really feel that way about your Kit’tara? But Emily, she is just another part of you. And a Khalla must go where her duty takes her—that is the life of one who is blessed and chosen by the Goddess.”

Emily put her fingertips to her temples and rubbed, trying to push back the tension headache she could feel building.

“I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t have said all that! I just had such strange dreams last night and I feel all weird and out of sorts this morning.”

“Strange dreams?” Saskia looked troubled. “What kinds of dreams?”

“I don’t even know.” Emily shook her head. “I just woke up feeling wrong.”

“You’re worried about your fate, so you are,” Saskia said. “But you don’t need to be, Emily—you’re in the hands of the Goddess.”

“Right, the Goddess.” Emily sighed. From the time this whole mess had started, she’d heard about the Goddess, first from Tragar who seemed to think he had abandoned the Kindred deity and was now damned by her, and then from his old master, Xen’dex who seemed to think the Goddess had some kind of hidden agenda Emily had to fulfill, and now from Saskia, who wanted her to put all of her trust in a being she had never seen—one she doubted strongly was anything but a figment of the imagination.

“Yes, the Goddess.” Saskia smiled at her. “She is always close to her Khallas—they are her special children, the daughters she loves the most because they represent her in a mortal form.”

“Yeah, well I don’t feel much like a goddess,” Emily muttered. In fact, she felt exactly the opposite of divine. Aside from the disturbing dreams she’d had all night, her breasts were full and aching again and she felt strangely sensitive between her legs, which was making her irritable.

The full breasts were her most immediate problem. Emily had been hoping against hope that Tragar was wrong when he had guessed that her nectar wouldn’t flow without help. Not that she wanted her breasts to gush like a fountain but in a way it would have been easier if they had. Because she felt really awkward about asking the big Kindred to suck her nipples again.

Of course, he hadn’t seemed to mind helping her the night before and it had been the most erotic experience of her entire life. But Emily knew he believed tasting her nectar was an act that might damn him although she didn’t fully understand why. She felt weird about asking him to commit such a grave “sin” again, even if she didn’t believe in the Goddess he was sure he was sinning against. So no matter how much her breasts ached, she was determined to keep it to herself.

They were boarding his ship and setting a course for Rageron today, she reasoned. Maybe once she was there someone else could tell her what to do. Of course if what Saskia was saying was correct, the Holy Council might want to tell her exactly what she could and couldn’t do the rest of her life—not a pleasant prospect at all.

But by then the other will probably be in control so that’ll be her problem, Emily thought grimly. I wonder when she comes out again? In the third stage of Tenrah? What did Tragar call it again? Let’s see, I’ve already been through Kalor and I’m in Scintil. Next comes Vlammen and then Hel right? Will I even know who I am by the time I get to the end? Or will my whole personality be completely gone?

“Are you ready, my Khalla? It’s time we were away.” Tragar’s deep, rumbling voice interrupted her morbid thoughts.

Emily forced herself to smile at him and squeezed Saskia’s hand one more time.

“I’m ready. Just saying goodbye.”

“Farewell, Khalla, chosen of the Goddess,” Xen’dex said formally. He came to stand beside Saskia and put an arm around her slender waist. “You are ever welcome in our domicile,” he told Emily.

“Thank you.” Emily tried to smile at him but she was feeling stranger by the minute. Her breasts ached and there was a growing urgency between her legs that made it hard to think.

“You have your coordinates?” Xen’dex asked, turning to Tragar.

“I do.” The big Kindred nodded firmly. “We’ll take the Gatspian wormhole—it comes out only a few parsecs from Rageron. From there it should only take one solar night to get there.”

“Very good,” Xen’dex said gravely. “But Tragar, a word of advice…even once you bring Emily before the Holy Council, you cannot consider your duty done. The voice witch—”

“You mean Grandy See-er?” Emily asked. She felt a cold finger of dread run down her spine though she didn’t know why. “How can she hurt me? I mean, now that I got rid of her, er…devices.” Her face felt hot as she spoke but the tickle of unease at the back of her mind wouldn’t go away.

“I don’t know if she could affect you from so far away or not.” Xen’dex looked troubled. “I only know that she has very potent magic.”

“Surely even the most powerful witch cannot hold sway from such a distance,” Saskia protested, frowning at her mate. “Don’t frighten Emily by making her think that awful old female still has power over her!”

“Forgive me, my love—I just want her to be safe,” Xen’dex said.

“You need have no fear about Emily’s safety,” Tragar said, lifting his chin. “I have pledged my life to protect her. I’ll keep a watchful eye on her—you may be sure of that.” He put an arm around Emily protectively and she pressed against him, glad for the heat of his big body. God, why was she so cold all of a sudden? It was as though the mention of Grandy See-er had sucked all the warmth out of the room.

“See that you do,” Xen’dex said. He clasped arms with Tragar and they squeezed each other’s forearms tightly in a warrior’s grip. “Be well my student,” he said to Tragar. “Remember that the Goddess loves all of her children—even those that have strayed.”

“I doubt she’d care much for one who has strayed as far as I have,” Tragar growled. “Still, I thank you for your thought—and for your hospitality and advice, my old Master. Be well and may Fortune favor you.”

“You as well,” Tragar’s old master said. “Go with the Goddess.”

The ride up to the ship was a silent one. Emily was biting her lips and looking out the window at the fast retreating planet. She could feel the big Kindred glancing at her from time to time but she kept her eyes averted. She didn’t want him to ask why she was so fidgety and nervous. All she could smell was his warm, spicy scent and every breath she took seemed to make the throbbing ache between her legs worse until she thought she would go crazy.

As soon as the shuttle docked with the ship, Emily was up and through the airlock in a flash. She had to get away from the big Kindred and his maddening scent. Her breasts ached—they were fuller than ever—but they were no longer her primary concern. Now she just wanted to get to the bedroom as soon as possible and see if she could figure out what was wrong between her legs.

She hurried down the long metal corridor to the bedroom Tragar had put her in before—his bedroom which was probably the last place she ought to be but Emily didn’t know where else to go. Her jog down the corridor irritated the affected area and jiggled her full breasts painfully but she couldn’t slow down—she had to find out what was going on now. The door slid shut behind her and she went over to the huge bed, barely noticing that the fire bubbles in the fireplace had turned a tranquil blue.

God, I’m so sensitive! She winced as she raised her long pale green skirt and looked down at herself. What’s wrong with me? Is it the aftereffects of that star-silver dildo thing kicking in?

Whatever it was, the problem was certainly severe. Her outer pussy lips were full and swollen and the little pink pearl of her clit was thrusting out prominently, as though begging for attention. The aching need she felt seemed to center there, in her clit.

Looking at herself, Emily felt that if she could just have an orgasm, she might be able to alleviate the strange craving she felt growing in her. Come to think of it, maybe an orgasm would help her nectar flow too. She felt so pent up inside—like a bomb waiting to go off. She needed to release all this tension and then she’d feel better.

Eagerly, she reached between her legs, ready to take care of all her problems in one fell swoop. But the minute her fingers came in contact with the swollen folds of her pussy, she gasped in pain.

“Ow! What the Hell?” The sharp burst of agony was so unexpected her knees almost buckled and she nearly fell off the side of the bed. What was going on? Certain that it must have been a mistake, she tried again—more gently this time.

But the moment her fingertips made contact with her pussy she cried out in pain. It felt like she’d been stung by a bee and the stinger was still in her, making every touch pure agony.

“Khalla? Are you well?”

Tragar’s deep voice behind her made her jerk and gasp. Quickly, she smoothed down her skirt and turned to face him.

“I…uh…” She cleared her throat, trying to think of an explanation and hoping he hadn’t seen her groping between her legs.

“Are your breasts full of nectar again?” He frowned at her, eyeing the way her round globes were thrusting out under the pale green flower petal top. Her nipples were especially prominent—tenting the gauzy material and showing clearly through the ultra light fabric in a way that was both pornographic and painful. Honestly, her breasts had gotten so sensitive that even the light fabric hurt them but Emily had been so preoccupied with the pain and urgency in her pussy she’d barely noticed until now.

“I…they are. Yes, they are,” she said quickly, forgetting she’d been trying to conceal this problem earlier. Now she was more concerned with hiding what was going on between her legs—it was so damn embarrassing.

“Why did you not tell me?” Tragar demanded, coming to sit on the bed beside her. “Are you in pain?”

“A…a little,” Emily confessed, biting her lip. This close to him, his warm, spicy scent was really hard to ignore and it made the throbbing between her legs so much worse she could hardly stand it.

“You should have asked for help.” Tragar was already slipping off the bed to get on his knees before her. He was so tall this was much easier than if he’d simply tried to bend down while they were sitting side by side. But it put him between her legs, or it would have if Emily hadn’t closed her knees and shifted her hips to one side. The action put almost unbearable pressure on her incredibly sensitive pussy but she couldn’t help it—suddenly she would rather do anything than let him between her thighs.

“Emily, are you all right?” The big Kindred looked at her, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Fine just…just my breasts hurt. That’s all,” she lied quickly. Part of her knew she ought to tell him something was wrong between her legs—he would probably understand it better than she would. But it was so embarrassing and weird and she kept having flashes of memory—Jason from high school saying that they should try something new…that she would like it…No! She pushed the thought away hastily. To distract Tragar, she fumbled clumsily with the adjustable straps on the pale green top, shortening them until the hem of the light garment was well above her nipples.

The big Kindred’s expression darkened.

“Your breasts are even fuller than they were last night! They must ache, my Khalla.” He cupped one full globe and traced the swollen pink peak very gently with his thumb.

Emily bit back a moan at the answering surge in her swollen pussy. God, he was driving her crazy—even more so than he had the night before! And with every breath she drew in his maddening scent which made her squirm with unrequited lust. God, this was torture!

“Are you certain the nectar build-up is the only thing bothering you?” Tragar was watching her restless movements with a skeptical look in his golden eyes.

“Of course.” Emily forced herself to hold still, even though his light touch on her nipple and his warm scent were still driving her crazy. “I just didn’t want to ask you for help because I know you feel like it’s wrong…wrong to, you know, suck the nectar out of me.”

“It is considered a grave offense,” he said, nodding. “But I believe it is a worse offense to leave you in pain…” He sighed. “Which I am guilty of doing. For that, I must ask your forgiveness.”

“What? What do you mean? You didn’t know,” Emily protested.

“I suspected. But I hoped I was wrong.”

“Why? Because this is a sacrilege—blasphemy? Isn’t that what you called it?” She nodded down at her full breasts. There was a tiny golden droplet on the one he was cupping now—it was almost as if her body was anticipating his touch, as if her breasts were ready to give up their nectar but only for his touch.

“Not for that reason.” Tragar looked troubled. “You have never asked me why it is considered blasphemy to drink a Khalla’s nectar. It is because draining a Khalla’s breasts and swallowing her bounty forms a very strong emotional bond between a Khalla and her chosen mate. So strong that it makes him jealous and overprotective—unwilling to share her with anyone. But a Khalla must belong to the whole world—all of Rageron must benefit from her healing ways.”

“I see.” For some reason Emily found she had to blink back tears. “And you…you don’t want that kind of bond with me. I understand.” She looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want a bond with you,” Tragar said fiercely. He lifted her chin so that she was forced to meet his steady golden gaze. “It is only that you deserve better than me, Emily. I didn’t want to form a bond for your sake.”

“Right. It’s not me, it’s you. Never heard that one before.” She shook her head. “Look, you don’t have to do this. We’re almost to Rageron and I know I’ll find help there so just…just go drive the ship.”

He frowned. “Just go and leave you aching and in pain? Is that what you mean?”

Emily shifted uncomfortably. God, he smelled so good.

“I’ll be fine, really.”

“No, you won’t. Not until I drain your nectar.” He leaned forward and placed a gentle, open mouthed kiss on each of her nipples in turn. Emily felt a surge of lust and her pussy throbbed so fiercely she could barely bite back the cry that rose to her lips. God, if he only knew what he was doing to her!

“All right,” she whispered breathlessly, thrusting her breasts forward to give him easier access. “Go ahead…do it.” Maybe if she just let him get it over with, he could go back to the command center of the ship and she could find a way to take care of her other problem—although she didn’t have any idea how. But anything to get the big Kindred and his maddening scent out of here!

Tragar slipped her right nipple into his mouth and took a deep pull, sucking hard to get the nectar flowing.

The answering pull in her pussy was more than Emily could bear. She threw back her head and cried out in painful pleasure, her fingers fisting in the bed’s coverlet as the overwhelming sensation rushed over her.

“Emily? Khalla?” Tragar stopped sucking at once and looked at her with concern. “What is it? What happened?”

“I…I just…” Emily knew she couldn’t hide it anymore. She parted her thighs, releasing the pressure she’d been putting on her swollen pussy. “I’m having a problem. Here.” She nodded between her legs.

“What’s wrong?” Tragar was between her knees at once, examining her with a look of concern on his dark face.

“It hurts,” Emily whispered. She could feel the tears building in her throat but she tried to hold them back. God, this was so embarrassing. But it was painful too—so painful she couldn’t keep it a secret any longer.

“I can see why you’re in pain.” Tragar had pushed up her long skirt until the top of the slit was almost at her waist. Bending his head to get a better look, he scanned the area between her wide-spread thighs with anxious eyes.

“You can?” Emily whispered. “I mean…I thought maybe it was just me. I woke up feeling so weird this morning and then it just kept getting worse. Especially when I smelled—”

“When you smelled what?” He looked up sharply.

“When I…I mean…” Emily fumbled, trying to find the right way to say it. “Well, you keep telling me that I have a scent that’s going out everywhere but all I can smell is your scent. It’s dark and spicy and amazing—way better than any cologne I’ve ever smelled.” She gestured emphatically with one hand. “And it’s driving me crazy all of a sudden! Even worse than it was when you first brought me up to your ship from Earth.”

Tragar sat back, looking troubled.

“You smell my bonding scent, I fear.”

“Your bonding scent? What’s that?”

“A pheromone Kindred males put out to attract females to them. It only manifests when a warrior wants to bond with a particular female. It…draws her to him, sometimes even against her will.”

“Well, at least I know I’m not going crazy,” Emily said. “But…I thought you said you didn’t want to, uh, bond with me. Whatever bonding entails.”

“I never said I didn’t want to—I said I don’t deserve to,” he said in a low voice. “But my body clearly thinks otherwise. This is what comes of tasting your nectar I suppose.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t—”

“No, don’t say it.” Tragar raised a hand to stop her. “I cannot help it that my body reacts to you this way—any more than you can help reacting to my scent. Usually when a Khalla is on the verge of Vlammen she is already in the Holy Mountains surrounded by the elders and accompanied by her chosen mate. We are in unusual circumstances here and doing the best we can.”

“Wait—back up…” Emily shook her head. “Did you just say I’m going into Vlammen? Isn’t that the third stage of the Tenrah?”

He nodded gravely. “It is.”

“But…I’m still producing nectar!” She nodded down at her full breasts. “I thought that meant I was still in the second stage—Scintil—right?”

Tragar shook his head. “Not necessarily. Some Khalla stop producing nectar as they near the end of the second stage and enter the third but some continue all through their Tenrah.”

“But then…how can you tell I’m going into the third stage?” Emily demanded.

“By this.” He nodded down between her spread thighs to her swollen pussy. “By how sensitive you are and the fact that your pussy has begun to reject your own touch just as your nipples did earlier.”

“Let me guess—only my chosen mate can touch me there now?” Emily tried to sound sarcastic but her voice came out breathless instead. She couldn’t help remembering the feel of his cock sliding against her, the broad head rubbing against her sensitive clit…

But Tragar was shaking his head.

“Even my touch might be more than you can bear. Look…” Very, very gently he cupped her swollen pussy mound in one large, warm hand.

Emily bit back a moan as she shifted her hips to get away from him. His touch wasn’t nearly as painful as her own but it didn’t feel good either—it was too intense—too much somehow.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, frustrated almost to tears. “All this time even when I couldn’t touch myself—my breasts I mean—at least you could touch them. And now…this. What the hell is going on?”

“Your pussy honey simply needs to flow,” Tragar rumbled. “But it cannot—like your nectar, it’s being inhibited.”

Emily bit her lip. “By the star-silver thing I used, right?”

“Possibly. For whatever reason, this happens to Khalla sometimes when they enter Vlammen. They grow incredibly sensitive when their honey needs to flow.”

“So then…there must be a cure, right? Some way to make things all better?” Emily looked at him hopefully.

He nodded. “There is. It is called the Healing Kiss. Traditionally it is given only by the Khalla’s chosen mate.”

“Okay.” Emily felt a surge of relief. “So you just need to kiss me? No problem.” She was so eager to feel better that she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the big Kindred’s neck and pulled him in close. His warm scent invaded her senses and she pressed her mouth to his, taking his sensual lips in a heated kiss she could feel all the way down to her toes.

Tragar seemed surprised at first but then he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, exploring her mouth gently before sucking her tongue into his mouth until Emily moaned with breathless pleasure. God, he tasted good! Hot and spicy like cinnamon candy—the flavor of his mouth was wild and delicious and completely addictive.

She loved the feeling of being in his arms, feeling safe and protected and wanted but she needed to get closer to him, to thrust against him until she could feel his big, hard body pressed against every inch of hers. More…need more! whispered an urgent little voice in her head.

But when she pushed closer, the leather of his black vest rubbed against her tender nipples painfully, sending flashes of agony from her pink peaks all the way down to her pussy. Emily gave a little cry and drew back, breaking the kiss abruptly.

“Are you all right?” Tragar’s voice was a soft growl of lust but the look in his eyes was concerned.

“Fine, I just…I rubbed against you the wrong way is all.” She nodded down at her exposed breasts. “Sorry.”

“I am the one who is sorry. I would never want to cause you any kind of pain, my Khalla.” He bent to kiss her hurt nipples gently, sending a shiver through her.

“So was that right?” she asked, trying to ignore the urgent need she felt to press her breasts to his mouth and beg him to kiss them again. “Am I, uh, healed?” Without waiting for his answer, she reached between her legs to cup her pussy. The stab of pain she felt at her own touch made her gasp and pull back her hand as though she’d been burned. “Ow!”

“Are you all right?” Tragar asked at once.

“No! I thought you said the Healing Kiss would help. But I still can’t touch myself and I still feel all swollen and tense.” Emily wanted to cry with frustration. “Why didn’t it work? Did we do it wrong?”

“It didn’t work because the Healing Kiss is not meant to be applied to your lips,” he murmured. “At least, not these lips.” He brushed her mouth gently with the pad of his thumb.

“What? What do you mean?” Emily looked at him uncertainly, her heart thumping.

“You know what I mean,” he said quietly. “I am acting as your chosen mate and that is how your body reacts to me. In order to take away your pain and help your honey flow, I must kiss you Emily—kiss your soft little pussy until you feel better.”

“I don’t…I can’t…” She felt a stab of panic at the thought of letting him kiss her there—letting him put his mouth between her legs.

“Master Xen’dex thought it might come to this, though I had hoped we would reach Rageron before you entered Vlammen.” Tragar looked troubled. “I fear it will only increase the growing dependency between us but it’s the only thing that will ease your pain and allow your honey to flow.”

“But…I don’t want you to do that. To kiss me there,” Emily burst out at last. “I don’t.”

He frowned. “Are you worried I might hurt you? Or are you uncertain because you’ve never had your pussy kissed before, my Khalla?”

“It’s not that I’m afraid it might hurt—you seem to know how to touch me even when I can’t touch myself. It’s just…” Emily closed her eyes, unable to look at him. “Well, it’s not the first time someone wanted to…to do that. I had a boyfriend in high school—a guy named Jason. I never really had any sexual feelings for him…”

“Because you had not reached your Tenrah yet,” Tragar rumbled.

“Right, I guess. But he did have sexual feelings for me. I mean, he was a teenaged boy, right? So of course he did. And I wanted to keep him happy so I let him…try a few things.”

Emily shuddered as she remembered the wrongness she’d felt when she allowed Jason to touch her. He’d been such a nice guy—so handsome and sweet, if a little bit clumsy—and she’d wanted so desperately to feel for him what he felt for her. But every time she let him grope her breasts or slip his hand under her skirt, the overwhelming waves of shame and repugnance would wash over her, so strongly sometimes that she could hardly sit still and let it happen. And then, that one night—the night he said he wanted to try something different…

“You let him taste you?” Tragar asked quietly.

Emily nodded. “I did. I didn’t want to but he wanted to try it so much and I was afraid he’d break up with me if I didn’t let him do it at least once.”

“And what happened?” he asked softly. “How did it feel?”

“Awful.” Emily couldn’t hold back the shiver that passed over her entire body. “So…so wrong. I mean, it wasn’t as bad as what Grayson did to me—Jason was never mean, he never held me down or forced me. But I remember just lying there, cringing and feeling so…so…”

“Violated?” he suggested softly.

“Yes. Exactly.” Emily nodded and found she was crying. She dashed the tears from her eyes angrily. “Violated…degraded…all that and worse. I felt like I was performing some sick, twisted act or one was being performed on me. And then I couldn’t stand it anymore and I pushed him away and he…”

She shook her head, not wanting to remember. It wasn’t as painful as her memory of Grayson but it was no picnic either.

“He what?” Tragar’s voice was a low, warning growl.

“He didn’t force me or anything—not like Grayson,” Emily said quickly. “But he said I was frigid—he said he could tell that any time I let him touch me I was just barely enduring it. He asked me what was wrong with me and I…I couldn’t answer him. Because I didn’t know.”

“How could you know?” Tragar asked reasonably. “His touch felt wrong to you because he was not your kind—because he was not Kindred. A Khalla can only bear such an intimate touch from her chosen mate. Your body rejected that other male because he was not right for you.”

“I know that now.” Emily sniffed and blotted her eyes with the hem of the pale green petal shirt “And I know you only want to help me. It’s just…really hard to get over that memory. I think that experience is the reason it took so long for the, uh, the other to start making herself known. I didn’t have any sexual desire at all until I was in college and she started coming out. And of course, you know how that ended.”

“I understand your pain and reluctance.” Tragar stroked a strand of hair out of her face and cupped her cheek. “Every male who has ever touched you has taken from you…has hurt you.”

“Every one but you,” Emily whispered, daring to look up into his eyes.

“And I won’t hurt you now.” He held her gaze with his own. “I know you have bad memories associated with this act and I swear I wouldn’t ask it of you if it wasn’t necessary. But Emily, I have to ask you to trust me. Can you do that?”

“I…” She took a deep breath. “I guess I can try.”

“Good. All I ask is that you let me kiss you just once, very gently.” He stroked her cheek, speaking softly and earnestly in that deep, growling voice of his. “Just once and if it feels wrong and bad in any way you can tell me to stop and I will.”

Emily bit her lip, filled with uncertainty. On one hand, she really, really didn’t want him to do this. Her memories of this act were so bad and wrong and painful she could barely stand to acknowledge them, much less repeat the act that had caused them. On the other hand, Tragar had seemed to know, right from the start, what was good and right for her—for her body, anyway. He hadn’t steered her wrong yet and even when he’d gotten angry with her, he had never been rough or cruel. And now he was being so sweet and patient and gentle…maybe…maybe she could risk it.

“Just once?” she asked fearfully. “And if I don’t like it you’ll stop?”

“Just once—I swear it on my honor as a warrior.”

The steady, honest look in his deep gold eyes decided her.

“All right,” she whispered, nodding. “Just once. I’ll let you do it just once if you really think it will help.”

“It’s the only thing that can help, my Khalla.” Tragar stroked her cheek again. “You honor me with your trust and with the gift of your body. I swear I will never treat you with anything but gentleness and respect.”

“Thank you.” Emily was touched by his little speech. It was almost as though he was swearing a vow to her, one he intended to honor no matter what.

“All right.” He rose from the floor and started reaching for some pillows. “Let’s get you more comfortable.”

“What do you mean? What are you doing?” Emily looked at him uncertainly. He had pulled the large, square pillows from the top of the bed and was arranging them under her back and shoulders.

“Getting you into position. I want you to watch as I do this—as I kiss you.” Tragar propped a pillow under her behind too, elevating her so that when she leaned back she would be in a semi-reclining position. “I think it will ease your mind somewhat if you can see what is happening.”

“I…I’m not sure about that.” But she was already in position. And she had to admit it was probably better to see than to lie there in the dark with one arm thrown over her eyes fighting back tears and waiting for the awful sensation to be over. No, don’t think about that, she told herself quickly. Put it out of your mind. Tragar isn’t Jason and this isn’t high school. You’re going to be fine. If it feels bad he’s going to stop—he promised he would.

“Are you comfortable?” Tragar had taken a pillow for himself and put it on the floor in front of the bed. He knelt on it now, looking at her seriously.

“I…I guess so.” Emily still wasn’t sure how to feel about this. Was it going to be as bad as last time? She hoped not but she couldn’t help feeling tense inside—the muscles in her stomach were jumping and her entire body felt clenched tight like a fist.

Please, she thought. Please don’t let it be too bad…

As she watched, Tragar lowered himself to kneel before her. Emily had shut her legs when he got her into position—well, she’d shut them as much as she could bear to, anyway. Her pussy was throbbing by now—swollen with need she didn’t want to acknowledge. But she knew if she didn’t get some relief soon she would be in serious pain. Her body was crying out for something—something only Tragar could give her. If she could bear to let him do what needed to be done.

“Gently, my Khalla,” he murmured, caressing the tops of her thighs with long, slow strokes of his warm hands. “Gently and slowly, I swear it. Please—open for me.”

“All right,” Emily whispered. Slowly she let her thighs drift apart again, exposing her swollen pussy. God, it was so embarrassing how hot and wet she was! Her clit was peaking out of her pink folds as if begging for attention. She wondered if the Healing Kiss the big Kindred was going to give her would really make her feel better? She really hoped so—as long as she could stand it.

“I’m just going to kiss the top of your mound first.” He stroked the top of her pussy, caressing the small patch of well trimmed blonde curls.

“Okay.” Emily shivered at the gentle touch and felt a tendril of pleasure curl through her. Maybe it would be all right…

He dipped his head and, his eyes never leaving her face, placed a soft kiss on the top of her mound, his lips just brushing the top of her slit. He let the kiss linger for a long moment before pulling back.

“All right?” He raised his eyebrows, clearly wanting to know how she felt.

Emily let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

“Yes,” she said tentatively. “All right so far.”

“Good.” Tragar rubbed his cheek against her sensitive inner thigh. “Then I’m going to kiss you a little lower, my Khalla. I’m going to kiss your sweet little pussy, where you need to be kissed.”

“All…all right,” Emily whispered. “And you’ll stop if I say so?”

“I’ll stop if you say so,” he promised gravely. Ducking his head again, he spread her thighs even wider, opening her pussy so that her swollen folds blossomed for him, almost like a flower.

Emily bit her lip, embarrassed at being so open and scared to death at how vulnerable this position made her feel. She wondered what the big Kindred was waiting for—he was just sitting there, his broad shoulders spreading her legs wide and gazing down at her pussy. There was a look almost of reverence on his face as he took her in.

“Beautiful,” she heard him mutter under his breath. “So fucking beautiful…”

She opened her mouth to ask him if he was going to kiss her or not—the suspense was killing her—but just then he ducked his head again. Gently, he pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her swollen pussy.

Emily clenched her hands into fists, waiting for the wrong feeling to envelop her, waiting for the guilt and grief and terror to overtake her…but they didn’t come. In fact, she felt nothing but pleasure as his hot mouth pressed to her most sensitive, secret area.

As before, Tragar let the kiss linger. She felt the press of his warm tongue against her swollen clit but he didn’t try to lick or taste her—he just held still, his mouth barely moving, kissing her pussy as tenderly as he had kissed her mouth earlier.

Emily felt some emotion welling up inside her but she didn’t know what it was. Maybe relief? Or maybe something else…the need for more.

“God,” she whispered in a low, shaky voice. “That feels…”

Tragar pulled reluctantly away, licking his lips. “How does it feel my Khalla?” he growled softly. “Gods, but your pussy is so sweet and ripe.”

“It feels good,” Emily said slowly. “It feels…right.”

“Because I am giving you what your body needs.” He rubbed her inner thigh again with his scratchy cheek, making her shiver. “But you need even more, my Khalla. You need to let me spread you completely open and taste and lick your pussy. You need to come on my tongue in order to give up your honey.”

Emily felt a rush of desire burn through her at his hot words. The big Kindred’s golden eyes were half-lidded with lust and she knew he wasn’t just giving her what she needed. He really did like her taste—he wanted more too.

“Then…” She cleared her throat a little self consciously. “Then you can…can kiss me again, I guess.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Deeper this time?”

“Yes, if…if you want.”

“I want to press my tongue inside your pussy and give you the Deep Healing Kiss,” he growled softly. “But not until I bathe your sweet little clit and make you come.”

“You…you do?” Emily couldn’t help how breathless her voice sounded. She was getting warm now—getting hot. Now that she knew she wasn’t going to be swamped by a rush of negative emotions she wanted to feel his mouth on her again.

Tragar nodded. “Gods, yes. If I can help you come, it should make your honey start to flow.” His voice dropped to a low growl. “And I want so badly to taste your honey, my Khalla. To taste it right from the source and feel it flow over my tongue as your inner walls clench around me.”

“Then do it,” Emily whispered. “Kiss me.”

“With pleasure.” He lowered his mouth to her pussy and started kissing her again—only this time it was more like licking and tasting.

Emily moaned breathlessly as he ran his tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top, stopping along the way to circle the aching button of her clit, bathing it with the tip of his tongue just as he had promised he would. Her fears had completely melted away by now, replaced by pleasure. Oh God, the feeling of his intimate kisses on her secret flesh was just what she needed. She could feel her body opening for him, her pussy blossoming as she pressed eagerly against his mouth, searching for more of what only he could give her.

Tragar licked and kissed her deeper, tracing her swollen folds with his tongue, flicking her aching clit mercilessly until she threw back her head and moaned. Somehow her fingers found their way into his long, black hair and Emily found she was pulling him forward as she pressed her hips up to meet his mouth, rubbing shamelessly against his invading tongue.

Tragar took her invitation eagerly. Sliding his big hands under her ass, he pulled her closer, lapping her open folds and sucking her swollen clit into his mouth while Emily moaned and pulled his hair.

“Tragar,” she heard herself begging, completely unable to stop herself. “Oh God, please…I’m so close…please!”

He looked up for a moment, his golden eyes burning with lust.

“Gods, Emily, that’s right,” he growled hoarsely. “Ride my tongue—rub your pussy hard against my face. Pull my hair and come for me…come until you give up all your sweet honey.”

Then he ducked his head and redoubled his efforts, licking her swollen folds until she cried out and bucked up to meet his mouth, her thighs clenching around the side of his face as her hands fisted in his long, black hair.

Emily could scarcely believe what she was doing. Could this be timid little kindergarten teacher Emily who never wanted to get within fifty feet of a man, lying here on the edge of the bed with her thighs spread wide by the big Kindred’s broad shoulders? Was she really allowing him to open her pussy with his tongue and lick and suck and kiss her until she moaned and cried and begged for more? It seemed impossible and yet it was happening—she was losing control, giving it up completely for the man between her legs and she never wanted it to end.

The pleasure kept building and building as he bathed her clit with his hot tongue until suddenly all the tension she’d felt seemed to burst inside her. It was as though she’d had a spring somewhere deep in her midsection and his relentless attention had finally caused it to snap.

“Tragar…oh! OH!” Emily had never felt so out of control. Crying and gasping she pressed herself up to meet him as the orgasm overtook her. It was deeper than the ones she’d had when he pinched and sucked her nipples—deeper and more complex in a way that made her feel like she was melting from the waist downward. She was bucking so wildly that the big Kindred had to brace both hands on her abdomen and lace his fingers together to hold her in place but through it all, he never stopped licking. He guided her through her orgasm, lapping and sucking and circling her clit until finally Emily felt something else happen.

For a moment she didn’t know what it was. It felt, in a way, as though someone had opened a gate inside her—a gate that had always been shut and locked for as long as she could remember. Her pussy began to feel full and warm and then hot, almost as though she had a fever between her legs. What was happening? Gasping and panting, she propped herself up on her elbows and spread her thighs, which had been clenched tight against the sides of Tragar’s head, to see.

“What…how…?” She couldn’t finish the question. She looked between her legs and her eyes widened. Something warm and wet was coming from between her thighs—an amber liquid that looked much like the nectar Tragar had pulled from her breasts only thicker and shinier. It really did have the consistency of honey but it felt hot.

“Oh my God…” Emily stared at herself uncertainly. “What is that?”

“Your honey, my Khalla.” Tragar was staring at her hungrily. “Your honey is finally beginning to flow. Gods, how I want to taste it!”

Lowering his head again, he pressed his tongue to the entrance of her pussy eagerly. Emily threw back her head and moaned as she felt him slip his tongue inside her, pressing deeper and deeper to taste her and the honey he had finally helped to flow.

At the same time she felt the tension in her breasts easing as well. Looking down, she saw that the sticky, clear amber nectar was leaking from her nipples, flowing down her breasts in two steady streams. God, she was like some kind of fertility goddess, overflowing all over the place! She was going to make a mess on the bed…all over her clothes…

But she couldn’t worry about it for long. The feeling of the big Kindred thrusting his tongue deep in her pussy caused another, even deeper orgasm to overwhelm her. Emily wailed as intense sensations rushed over her like a tidal wave threatening to drag her out to sea and drown her with pleasure. Tragar’s hands came up and he cupped her breasts, squeezing gently to help her nectar flow above as her honey flowed below.

Her back arched as she gave herself up to it completely—gave in to the pleasure the big Kindred was giving her and the feeling of his hands and mouth on her body. Between her legs she felt him lapping, tasting her eagerly, taking all she had to give and it made her come even harder—so harder she actually saw flashes of light behind her eyes.

Fireworks, she thought deliriously. Oh my God, I’m coming so hard I’m seeing fireworks—I always thought that was just a stupid saying! But there was no denying what she was seeing—or what she was feeling. Tragar was giving her exactly what she needed and her body was responding to him in a way she had never responded to anyone else. In a way she had never expected to be able to respond.

At last the flow from her breasts became a trickle and the hot, full feeling in her pussy subsided. The pleasure slipped away too, sliding away silently to leave her breathless and panting and completely and utterly exhausted.

Tragar seemed to sense that her orgasm was finally over, or maybe it was just that her honey had stopped flowing. For whatever reason, he raised his head at last and looked at her.

“Was it all right, my Khalla?” he asked, his deep voice hoarse with passion and his eyes half-lidded. “Did I serve you well?”

“So well,” Emily whispered. “So well that I…I…” Then her face crumpled and she burst into tears.

* * * * *

Tragar rose quickly from his place between her legs and gathered her into his arms.

“Are you well, my Khalla? You aren’t hurt, are you?” he asked anxiously.

“N-no.” Her voice was breathless with tears and she burrowed against his chest, pressing her hot cheek to his throat. “I just…it felt…”

“Yes?” he urged gently, stroking her trembling back. Gods, the poor little female felt like she was going to shake herself apart! Had the pleasure she felt been too intense for her to bear? He had heard that the first time a Khalla’s honey flowed it could be an emotional experience for her.

“It just felt…” Emily looked up at him at last, her pale blue eyes still bright with tears. “For the first time it felt right. And it felt good too—so good I guess I sort of…lost control.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for your pleasure,” Tragar told her, stroking a strand of hair out of her eyes. Gods, she was lovely! Both when she came and gave herself up to him completely, and when she was nestled here in his arms, looking up at him so trustingly. He felt his heart swell and he longed to hold her this way forever.

“I’m not—not apologizing for the pleasure, anyway. I just kind of…got a little wild.” She bit her lip. “I hope I didn’t pull your hair too hard.”

“I loved it,” Tragar told her honestly. “Loved the feeling of your hands on my head, guiding me forward and your lovely body tensing around me as you finally released your need and let your honey flow against my tongue.”

“That’s not the only thing that flowed.” She looked down at her breasts, grimacing a little. “I’m, uh sorry about your bed. I’m afraid I made a real mess.”

“This is a good thing,” Tragar told her gently, palming her warm, full breast and thumbing her nipple gently. Emily moaned softly and thrust her breast more fully into his hand. He pinched the pink peak of her nipple and a droplet of amber nectar rose to his touch. Leaning down, Tragar lapped it up, savoring its sweet, light flavor so different from the richer honey that flowed from her pussy. Gods, she was so sweet…so ripe. His mating fist throbbed in his flight leathers, longing to breed her, to make her his completely but he knew it could never be.

“So you’re not mad that I made a sticky mess of your bedspread?” Emily asked, sounding breathless.

He looked up from lapping her nipples. “Your body needed to release and flow, my Khalla. Don’t apologize for that either.”

She looked at him timidly. “Is it…is it considered blasphemy too—what we just did? I mean, you tasting me—my honey?”

“No.” Tragar stroked her cheek but couldn’t help feeling troubled. What they had done wasn’t forbidden…but it was something that was supposed to be reserved exclusively for a Khalla’s chosen mate. Something he was not and could never hope to be. Even if he had deserved the love of one such as Emily, he knew the Elders of the Holy Council would never consider him a fit candidate.

“I’m glad.” Emily pressed against him again and sighed contentedly. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re damned or going to Hell or whatever just for helping me.”

“I told you,” Tragar said roughly. “I’m already damned—what difference does it make if I commit a few more sins along the way?”

“Don’t feel like that. You seem to think you’re this horrible person but you’re not—honestly.” She looked up at him earnestly. “I didn’t know how to feel about you at first but, well…now I think you’re the sweetest, most wonderful guy I’ve ever met.” Her cheeks got pink and she gave him an embarrassed little smile. “And I’m not just saying that because you give me multiple orgasms, either.”

Tragar laughed softly and pulled her close, nestling her sweet, rounded body in the curve of his arm, loving the way she fit just right against him. His heart swelled and a wave of protective possessiveness washed over him. Oh Goddess, this was not good and he knew it. Acting as her chosen mate, drinking her nectar and now tasting her honey…it was going to be next to impossible to give her up when they finally reached Rageron.

And yet, that was exactly what he had to do if he cared for her.

Chapter Twenty-two

They slept entwined in each other’s arms and Tragar would probably have stayed that way the entire night, content just to hold her, if the burning in his arm hadn’t woken him up.

It was the most intense pain—as though his entire arm from wrist to shoulder was on fire. His eyes flew open, his entire system flooded with shock and anger and fear. His first thought was for Emily. Was she well—were they under attack? Did he need to defend her?

She was sleeping peacefully, however, a look of contentment on her lovely face. Tragar breathed a sigh of relief and looked at his arm, holding it over his head to examine it in the dim blue light of the firepit. It was the narsh that was burning, the black webbing that covered his arm was outlined in red sparks that throbbed and stung and ached unmercifully.

Tragar knew what it meant and he knew he couldn’t ignore the message. Rising carefully, so as not to disturb Emily, he went to the ship’s control area and sat down.

The message indication light was already blinking fiercely. Tragar took a deep breath and thumbed it on, taking care to shield his own signal first. He didn’t want whoever was on the other end of the line to know exactly where he was—or how close they were to Rageron and a new way of life for Emily.

“Tragar! So there you are.” Tier Shan’s compound eyes glittered angrily as his insectile visage popped up on the viewscreen. “I suppose I don’t have to ask if you have completed your mission and terminated the girl yet. Click-click.”

“I have not,” Tragar said heavily. “Nor do I plan to.”

“You dare to stare me in my eyes and defy me? To tell me to my face that you intend to break the sacred oath you swore when we took you into the Verrak? Click-click!”

“I have not broken my oath,” Tragar protested. “There was no formal time limit set upon this contract.”

“That doesn’t matter. The one who placed the contract in the first place contacted me and he was enraged that the girl still lives. Click-click. And so he should be—you are tarnishing the entire reputation of the Verrak with your reluctance to carry out a contract you accepted.”

Tragar stiffened. “I cannot help that. I don’t know why he wants Emily dead but I do know that she does not deserve death. She is kind and loving and beautiful—a bright spark in this cold, dead universe. I will not snuff it out.”

Tier Shan’s mandibles worked against each other for a moment as though he didn’t know how to answer such blatant insubordination.

“You have feelings for this female,” he accused at last. “You are…how is it that you fleshy meat-sacks describe it? Ah yes, you are in love with her!”

Tragar started to deny it…and then stopped himself. Only a week ago he would have said that any love in his heart was dead. That it had dried up and withered away when he lost his beloved Landra and Jalex. But when he thought of Emily…how it felt to hold her…to comfort and pleasure her and just to be with her…

“Yes,” he said at last. “Yes, I suppose I am. And I will not kill her, Tier Shan. I do not care what the consequence may be—I will protect her no matter what.”

His superior’s compound eyes burned with rage, his black, misshapen head seeming to swell with the intensity of his fury.

“Are you telling me,” he said in a low, hissing voice. “That you do not intend to fulfill your contract? Click-click. Because if that is so, Tragar, I must find someone else to fulfill it. Someone else must kill the girl.”

“I never said I would not fulfill the contract,” Tragar said evenly. He had been thinking as he drifted off to sleep with Emily in his arms what agony it would be to give her up to someone else. To see her in the arms of another male—one who wouldn’t understand her past pain or her need for tenderness and gentle treatment. Yet, it was unavoidable. One such as he could never be mated to a Khalla. Now the answer came to him—the agony would be intense but brief. He knew what he had to do.

“And how exactly will you fulfill the contract if you do not kill the girl?” sneered Tier Shan. “There must be a death! That is the Verrak way! Click-click.”

“There will be,” Tragar said. “There will be a death and the contract will be fulfilled. But it will not be Emily who dies—it will be me.”

“What?” Clearly Tier Shan did not believe him. “You expect me to believe that you are willing to sacrifice your life for a target?”

“Not just a target—a female worthy of love and respect. A Khalla. And yes, I will die for her. The moment I place her somewhere safe, I will end my own life to fulfill the contract.”

Tier Shan leaned forward, his compound eyes filling the viewscreen for a moment as he studied Tragar’s face. Finally, he sat back.

“I believe you actually mean this. What has this female done to bewitch you so?”

“She has placed her trust in me. She has allowed me to service her…and to love her, though she does not know it,” Tragar said. “I was dead inside before I met her—now, for however briefly—I feel alive again. Is that not worth my life?”

“No,” Tier Shan said briefly. “Not in my estimation. But my kind, as you know, do not form romantic attachments. Mating is a dangerous business among Vash`arans since the female will often attempt to eat the male that services her before the mating organ is even withdrawn. It is safer to remain celibate.”

“Then I pity you,” Tragar said. “For you will never know the emotion I have for my Khalla. She is worth my life and more—I will give it gladly but not until I know that she is safe.”

“Very well. Click-click. We will be sorry to lose you, Tragar—you are a peerless assassin.”

Tragar nodded his head. “I thank you for your compliment and for your belief in me.”

“A belief that only extends so far. Click-click.” Tier Shan’s compound eyes glittered dangerously. “Never doubt that I will check on the veracity of your statements. You are blocking your signal’s origin but that will not stop us for long. I will be checking soon to see that either you or the female are dead. If you both live, I will dispatch another assassin to complete the job.”

“Understood.” Tragar nodded his head. “Only let me see her to a safe place before I take my own life. It should be another solar day or so before I have her settled.”

Tier Shan shook his head. “In all my solar years with the Verrak, I have never met an assassin willing to fulfill a contract he was given in such a way.”

“Perhaps you never will again.” Tragar shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me. I joined the Verrak seeking an honorable death in the first place—now I have finally found it.”

“See that you do find death—or it will find the girl,” Tier Shan snapped. With a final clicking of his mandibles, he ended the transmission and the viewscreen went black.

Tragar contemplated it for a moment. He felt no regret for his decision—on the contrary, a quiet peace enveloped him. It was a relief knowing that he wouldn’t have to lose Emily for long. She would be well cared for by the Council who would no doubt choose a proper and fitting mate for her.

The thought of giving her up to another male still made him grit his teeth but he reminded himself that it was inevitable. The council would find a male who had never disavowed the Goddess and turned to assassination for his living. One who deserved to live in the light of Emily’s smile…who would help her complete her Shift and become a full fledged Khalla.

With a sigh, he checked his instruments. They were close to Rageron—less than a parsec away. The narsh had stopped burning—for the moment at least. What he really wanted to do was go back to bed and hold Emily in his arms one last time before they reached the planet and descended to the Holy Mountains. But first he should—

A soft sob interrupted his thoughts.

“Emily?” He turned quickly, swiveling the pilot’s chair around and saw her standing in the doorway with tears in her eyes. “Emily?” he said again. “What is it, my Khalla?”

“You know damn well what it is.” She came more fully into the room, her arms crossed over her full breasts. “I heard you, Tragar—I heard everything.”

Tragar considered her with a heavy heart. This was the hard part of his plan—telling Emily. In the back of his head, he’d known he would have to but he had hoped to wait until she was settled with another male. Safe with her chosen mate, she could have born the news of his sacrifice quite well, he thought. But to hear it now…no, this was the wrong time and the wrong place. He wished he could take back everything that had passed between himself and Tier Shan but it was too late—Emily already knew.

“What were you thinking?” she demanded, her small hands balled into fists. “What the hell were you thinking, telling that weird insect boss of yours that you’re going to kill yourself as soon as we get to Rageron?”

“I was thinking of protecting you,” Tragar said, frowning. “The contract that was put on your head is irrevocable—there must be a death to fulfill it. That death will be mine.”

“No!” She strode forward and stood in front of him, her hands planted on her full hips defiantly. “No, I won’t allow that! I won’t let you just…just kill yourself because that damn insect says so.”

“Emily…” He reached for her but she backed up, shying away from his hand.

“Don’t touch me!”

“You don’t understand,” he growled, frustrated at her ignorance. “If I do not kill myself another assassin will be dispatched to kill you.”

“Well who’s to say that they won’t send another guy out as soon as you’re dead?” she demanded. “That whoever put out the first contract won’t just put out a second? Did you think of that?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Tragar said. “Once the contract has been fulfilled, another cannot be issued. Not with the Verrak, anyway.”

“What about with a different organization?” Emily countered. “You guys can’t be the only gun-for-hire game in town! What if he sends somebody else or just comes to kill me himself?”

“You’ll be safe in the Holy Mountains.” Tragar spoke softly, trying to allay her fear. “No creature in the universe is so well cared for and guarded as a Khalla in the Holy Mountains of Rageron. You’ll have an entire retinue of guards and maidens to honor and protect you. And of course you’ll have…” He nearly choked on the words but he forced them out anyway. “You’ll have your chosen mate. He will guard you with his life.”

“I don’t want any chosen mate!” Emily exclaimed. “I don’t want some other guy that a bunch of Council members who don’t even know me choose for me. Tragar…” She stepped towards him at last. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she looked up into his eyes. “I only want you.”

Tragar took a step back. “You can’t have me. The Council will never allow it—I am not worthy to be bonded to a Khalla.”

Emily lifted her chin, her eyes blazing.

“You know, when you were spouting all that before I thought it was because you didn’t want to be with me and you were trying not to hurt my feelings. But just now I heard you tell the insect guy that you loved me—so much that you’re willing to die for me. So I’m beginning to think you actually mean it.”

“Of course I mean it!” Tragar growled. “You don’t know the life I have led, the things I have done…the people I have failed…”

“No, and I don’t care, either,” Emily declared. “I only know that I want you. If I have to go through this crazy, scary thing…if I have to turn into someone else entirely when the other takes over, I want you to be with me, by my side, the whole time.”

Tragar closed his eyes for a moment. By my side…by my side… The words seemed to echo in his brain, drawing out memories he had long tried to suppress. Images best left forgotten. I should have been by her side…but I was not. I failed her…failed them both. Oh, Landra…

“I…cannot be by your side. I will fail you,” he said in a low, choked voice.

“You will not! What makes you say that? Why do you keep talking about failing?” Emily was clearly frustrated.

He shook his head. “I cannot say. It is too painful. Can you not just believe me and accept what I say is true—that I am unworthy of a Khalla’s love and fit only to act as a sacrifice to save your life?”

“No…no, I do not accept that.” Emily stamped her bare foot on the hard metal floor in frustration. “You said you loved me, Tragar!”

“And so I do.” He cupped her flushed cheek and stroked her soft skin, allowing himself the pleasure of touching her once more. “I do not know how but somehow you got past all my defenses.”

“You…you got past mine too,” Emily whispered. “Don’t you think that means something?”

“It means I love you,” Tragar told her, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Enough to die for you.”

“But not enough to live with me.” Emily’s eyes were suddenly bright with tears and she stepped away from his touch. “Not enough for that.”

He shrugged helplessly. “Forgive me—I am giving you the only gift I can. The only gift I have that is worthy of you, my Khalla. My death for your life.”

“I don’t want your gift,” she whispered. “I just want you.”

Then, tears pouring down her cheeks, she turned and ran from the control room.

* * * * *

Emily buried her face in the pillows and sobbed miserably. Earlier when she’d cried in Tragar’s arms it had been a release…a relief. An easing of the awful tension that had been building up in her so long. She had felt safe and protected, nestled close to his broad chest. She had felt cherished and loved and for the first time, she’d felt right.

It was as though she’d been searching for something all her life without even knowing it and when the big Kindred came into her world, she had found it—found him. Everything finally made sense—even the idea of the other taking over her body wasn’t as scary when she’d believed that he would be by her side to help her through it.

Now she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Tragar would be leaving her—leaving in the most final way possible. She wondered dully how he planned to do it. Would he hang himself from the nearest convenient tree? Or maybe just shoot himself with his blaster?

Ugh! She shivered and tried to push away the morbid thoughts but they wouldn’t go. All she could see was Tragar, dead by his own hand. All she could think about was never having his arms around her again, never getting the chance to explore this new emotion that was blossoming between them…

Fresh sobs shook her and she pulled the pillow over her head, trying to muffle the sounds of her misery.

Suddenly a warm hand came to rest between her shoulder blades and the pillow that was covering her face was pulled away. Emily grabbed it, trying to hang on. She didn’t want the big Kindred to see her like this, didn’t want to display her ugly emotions so openly. But Tragar was relentless, he pulled the pillow gently but firmly away from her face, exposing her tears.

“Go away.” Emily buried her head in her arms. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“But I need to talk to you,” he growled softly. “I need to explain.”

“Explain what? That you love me so much you’re going to kill yourself and leave me alone? I heard that already, I don’t want to hear it again.” Emily still refused to look at him.

“No, I need to explain to you why I am not worthy of being your chosen mate. Why I deserve death.”

“You know, I thought I deserved death. At least, I wanted to die.” Emily finally looked up at him. “After what Grayson did to me. After he raped me. I felt so ugly, so dirty—like I’d never be clean again. I thought about killing myself but I didn’t.” She sat up and glared at the big Kindred. “Because if I did that, he would have won. And I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. My only other option was to kill him, but I couldn’t do that either. So I learned to live with it.”

“I sympathize with your wish to kill that bastard. I killed the ones who hurt me.” Tragar’s deep voice was distant…remote. “But it did not ease my pain.”

“What? Who were they and what did they do? What happened?” Emily had a sudden flash of insight. “Does this have to do with your wife and son?”

“Landra and Jalex, yes.” He sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose briefly, as though trying to drive back a headache.

“Did you get a divorce? Did she leave you and take him and you haven’t seen them since?” Emily asked, trying to read his face. But it was like trying to read a statue’s face—his expression was stoic and calm, as though he was a million miles away.

“They were killed,” he said in a low voice.

“Oh, Tragar!” Emily put a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry—I didn’t know.”

“How could you? I never spoke much of them to you—I try never to even think of them. It is…too painful.” He looked at her, as though seeing her at last. “But now I feel I must speak of them. I must show you what happened and how I failed them. Then you’ll see why I do not deserve the love of a Khalla.”

“What do you mean ‘show’ me? Do you have a picture of them?”

“I do.” He pulled something out of his vest pocket—a small, flat disk a little bigger than a quarter—and thumbed it on. Immediately the disk began to emit a low humming noise and a 3-D image of a young woman and a boy who looked to be about five or six appeared. Both of them had black hair like Tragar’s and the boy had his golden eyes as well. But the woman had deep indigo eyes thickly fringed with black lashes.

“Oh,” Emily breathed. “She’s beautiful. Those eyes…”

“Landra was one of the Ancient Ones who live in the Deep Blue on Rageron,” Tragar said. “But the grandfather tree her people lived in wasn’t far from my village. Our minds aligned when we were still children—it’s unusual but it does happen so sometimes.”

“So you were childhood sweethearts?” Emily looked at the woman’s vivid blue eyes and laughing mouth. She looked like a happy person and the little boy who was leaning against her hip was looking up at her adoringly. Clearly she was a good mom.

“I suppose you could say that,” Tragar murmured. “We mated very young—as early as our parents would allow it. Very soon after that, Jalex came along.” He motioned to the faintly glowing image of the little boy. “He was the light of our lives—so brave and smart for his age! He—” His voice faltered and for a moment, Emily thought he wouldn’t be able to go on.

“Tragar,” she said softly. “You don’t have to do this. If it’s too painful—”

“It is necessary,” he interrupted. “So that you can understand.”

“All right,” Emily said in a low voice. She sat up straighter and Tragar settled beside her on the bed, still carefully holding the 3-D hologram of his wife and son. The fire bubbles in the fireplace had turned from blue to gold and the shifting flames alternately cast his strong features into light and shadow.

His face never changed but his voice was different now, deeper and hoarse as though he could barely get the words out.

“We were at war with the Scourge when it happened. Now they have almost all been wiped out but ten cycles ago the threat was very real. They were attacking the capital city about a hundred clicks from where we lived, Landra and Jalex and I. I was in command of a squadron of pilots—it was my duty to go and defend our planet from the vat-grown bastards.”

“So you did what you had to do,” Emily said softly.

He nodded. “I did what I thought was right at the time. Landra didn’t want me to go.” He closed his eyes tightly for a moment but kept talking. “You can’t tell it in this image but we had recently learned she was pregnant with our second child—a girl this time. She would have been a Khalla.”

Emily bit her lip, wanting to say something but not sure what. After a moment, Tragar went on.

“Landra had a bad dream—a warning. She was afraid that I wouldn’t come back to her and our children. That I would be killed in battle.” He gave a hoarse, bitter laugh. “Little did we know that the attack on the capital was nothing but a ruse—a ploy to draw our troops away from the area the Scourge really wanted to plunder—the Deep Blue.”

“Um, what is the Deep Blue?” Emily dared to ask. “You mentioned it once before but I didn’t catch what it was.”

Tragar pinched the bridge of his nose again.

“Of course—forgive me. I forgot that you’ve never been to our home planet before. The Deep Blue is the Jungle that covers much of Rageron. It is wild and dense and filled with savage creatures. It is also where the Ancient Ones, the original inhabitants, of Rageron live. We Kindred came and mated with them as part of our genetic trade.”

“Okay, I see.” Emily nodded. “And what did the Scourge want there?”

Tragar shrugged his broad shoulders.

“We never found out. There were rumors that they were after the pain vine—the skrillix which grows at the base of the grandfather trees which are huge, big enough to support entire towns in their branches. The skrillix has many strange properties and can be used to cause death and suffering.”

“Sounds like something the Scourge would want.” Emily shivered. Though it had been several years since the Kindred finally neutralized the threat of the alien invaders, the very sound of their name still made her feel cold all over.

“Whatever they wanted, they came for it while we were distracted defending the capital,” Tragar said in a low, grim voice.

“Oh, no…” Emily put her hand to her mouth. “And the village you lived in—”

“Was left untouched.” His free hand clenched into a fist on his knee. “Unfortunately, I had sent Landra and Jalex back to stay with her kin in the Deep Blue. The grandfather tree that all of her people lived in was attacked.”

“Oh, Tragar…” Emily didn’t know what to say.

“I felt it when they came for her—for my beloved Landra and our son and unborn daughter.” The big Kindred’s face was stoic but his voice was raw—filled with so much pain it made Emily ache just to hear it. “We should have been out of range but my bond with Landra was strong—we’d been connected since we were children, after all.

“I felt her fear…her pain…” He closed his eyes and Emily could tell he was forcing the words out. “I turned my ship at once, even though it meant leaving the rest of my squadron. I was court-martialed for it later but I didn’t give a damn. But even though I left as soon as I felt my Landra’s need for me, I still arrived too late.”

Emily still had no words. She put one hand tentatively on his knee.

“The grandfather tree they were in was attacked and burned. The Scourge used DarkFire—a chemical weapon that scorches and kills anything it touches on contact. No living thing can survive it. Almost everyone in their tree was killed. I heard…” He paused for a long moment and Emily was certain he wouldn’t be able to go on. But finally he did, in a hoarse, dry voice. “I heard Landra screaming inside my head—begging me to come and save them through our bond. Ah, Gods…” He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, his eyes closed tightly again.

Emily was silent, her hand on his knee. After a moment he went on again.

“I was too late. I flew as fast as I could—I pushed my ship to the breaking point—but it wasn’t enough. I didn’t reach them in time.” He took a deep breath. “I found their bodies in the dwelling of Landra’s parents. They were burned…burned almost beyond recognition. But Landra’s arms were clasped around Jalex, holding him close, as though she had tried to shield him from the fire…Their bodies were still…still smoking when I got to them.”

“Oh, Tragar!” Emily couldn’t stand it anymore. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. The pain radiating from him was enormous, intense. And though he wasn’t crying, she found that she was and this time her tears were for him—for his agony and suffering. For his unimaginable loss. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “So, so sorry!”

“Now you know.” Tragar thumbed the button on the small silver disk and the hologram of his wife and son disappeared. “Know how I failed them—failed to protect those I loved most in the world.”

“But it wasn’t your fault!” Emily protested.

“It was,” he said heavily. “I should have listened to Landra when she begged me not to go. I should have been by her side, protecting and shielding her. I should have died with her and my son.” He sighed and tucked the silver holo-disk back in his vest pocket. “It was ten cycles ago now. The pain has faded some. But I still try not to dwell on it. Remembering is…hard.”

“Of course it is—that’s horrible! I can’t even imagine…” Emily drew back and blotted the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “So that’s why you want to…to do away with yourself?”

“Not any more.” He looked thoughtful. “At first it was all I could think about. I wanted to die so badly I made it my mission to hunt down and kill every Scourge who’d had anything to do with Landra and Jalex’s death. When they failed to kill me, I joined the Verrak. I was searching for an honorable death—for a target that could take me down.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I never dreamed exactly how they would take me down. But now…” He stroked her cheek. “I cannot imagine a more honorable death than giving my life for you, my Khalla.”

“I don’t want you to do that,” Emily said fiercely. “There must be an alternative—there has to be!”

He frowned. “Not without breaking the contract.”

“And is that damn contract worth more than your life? I don’t think so!” She took him by the hands. “I want you, Tragar—I want you as my chosen mate!”

“Even if I was worthy of you—”

“Stop talking like that,” she snapped. “Of course you’re worthy! I don’t care that your people think a Khalla is some kind of goddess or something—look at me, I’m no goddess! I’m just plain old Emily the kindergarten teacher from Tampa, Florida. I’m the girl who couldn’t get a date to the prom…the girl who stays home Friday nights and watches Netflix and eats Ben and Jerry’s. Until you came along, I was planning to be alone the rest of my life. Because I couldn’t find any man who felt right for me—any man I could trust not to hurt me! And now you’re here and you want to kill yourself just when we’ve found each other?”

“Emily…” He cupped her cheek. “Try to understand.”

“No, you try to understand. I heard what that insect thing said—if you don’t kill either me or yourself, he’ll send someone else after me, right?”

“Exactly, which is why I must—”

“Which is why you must stay and defend me,” Emily said firmly. “Let him send somebody—you’ll be prepared. You can fight them off.”

He frowned. “That will be putting your life in danger unnecessarily.”

“No, that will be saving your life and keeping me from going crazy. Tragar, please…” She took his hand and put it on her chest, over her heart. “Please, I can’t go through this…this transformation alone! I need you. I want you. I love you.”

“Emily…” He pulled her close and kissed her deeply. Emily threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back, trying to show him exactly how she felt, exactly how much she wanted and needed him.

“Please don’t go,” she whispered in his ear when the kiss finally broke. “Please don’t leave me.”

He sighed. “You sound so like Landra when you say that.”

“Listen to me then,” Emily said. “I know you regret not listening before. Listen now—stay with me.”

He sighed deeply. “I fear I will fail you as I failed before.”

“The only way you can fail is to not try.” Emily gave a little laugh. “You know, that’s something that I say to my students. It’s true, though—whether you’re in kindergarten or a big, tough assassin—you have to try.”

He looked troubled but then, slowly, he nodded.

“All right,” he murmured. “I will try for you, my Khalla. But I warn you, I doubt very seriously if the Holy Council will consider me a fit chosen mate for you.”

“I don’t care what they think,” Emily said fiercely. “You’re the only one I want—the only one!” She frowned. “And why do we even have to go to the Holy Mountains, anyway? You seem to be doing fine helping me through the stages of the Tenrah. Why can’t we just go someplace else entirely? Or just stay on the ship together and keep moving so the Verrak can never find us?”

Tragar shook his head gravely. “I’m afraid that would be even more dangerous than what we already plan. The last stage of the Tenrah is very… difficult. You must be surrounded by experts who know how to help you at the time you pass from Vlammen to Hel. Also there is a special suite there that facilitates that last stage. No argument,” he said, stopping Emily when she was about to protest. “It’s bad enough that I’m risking your life by breaking the contract. I will not even consider not taking you where you can be safe and cared for during such a critical juncture.”

“All right,” Emily said, sighing. “It would have been nice to run away together, though.” She looked into his eyes. “And do you promise that you’ll still…still want me after the other takes over? Even when I’m not really me anymore?”

Tragar stroked a strand of hair away from her eyes.

“Your Kit’tara is only another part of you, Emily—I wish you could believe that. But yes, I will be by your side for as long as I am able.”

“Thank you.” Emily sighed and nestled close to him. Pressing her face into his throat and breathing his warm, spicy scent made her feel safe and cared for and protected.

It’s all right, she told herself. He’s not going to kill himself—everything is going to be all right.

But deep down she still had a nagging little worry. What would happen when they reached Rageron? And how would she feel when the other finally took complete control of her body?

Chapter Twenty-three

“Somebody said there’s a call for me?” Thrace entered the communications suite and looked around for Commander Sylvan, who had called him in the first place.

“Yes, there is.” The Blood Kindred paced forward. “We can give you privacy if you’d like. The main viewscreen is just in the other room. It’s got a boosted signal so we can send and receive calls from many light years away. This call is coming in from quite a distance.”

“Is it that tracker you sent out after the girl?” Thrace asked, frowning. “Does his mate want more information from me? Because I don’t know what else I can tell her.”

“No, it’s not Rone and Kate.” Sylvan frowned. “Although I did just hear from them a moment before the call for you came in.”

“Oh?” Thrace leaned forward eagerly. “Have they reached Rageron yet? Have they found the girl—have they found Emily?” He still took a very personal interest in Emily Brooks. As soon as she was found, hopefully alive and well, he fully intended to go on a search for his first mate, Solar. Until he knew Emily was all right, however, he didn’t feel able to leave the Mother Ship.

“Unfortunately, no,” Sylvan said heavily. “Their hydrogen scoop failed just as they were about to enter the Gatspian wormhole which comes out only a few parsecs from Rageron. Now I’m afraid we’ll have to bring their ship back to the Mother Ship and fix it here.”

“Why not just fold space and send somebody out with a portable scoop modulator?” Thrace asked. “I used to have one on The Empress—too bad I don’t have it with me now.”

Sylvan sighed. “We have a scoop modulator but it’s a permanent model and much too large to be moved. I’m afraid this will delay them considerably which worries me.”

“Can’t they just go in another ship?” Thrace asked. He was worried too—he wanted to know that the girl Two had showed him in his evil vision was safe and well.

Commander Sylvan shook his head. “Unfortunately not. Rone says he has delicate tracking equipment aboard his vessel that can’t be moved and he needs it to help pinpoint Emily’s location.”

“That’s too bad.” Thrace frowned. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Just send a prayer to the Goddess that Emily is well. If the prophesy is correct, she may be very important to our future.”

“Indeed.” Thrace nodded. “So, if it’s not Kate and Rone, then who is calling me?”

Commander Sylvan’s mouth twitched in a rare smile. “Go find out for yourself. I think you’ll be very happy when you see.”

Mystified but intrigued, Thrace turned the corner into the main communications room. One whole wall was taken up with an enormous viewscreen and on that screen was a very familiar face. A face with gold and green ringed eyes and dark brown hair.

“Solar!” Thrace exclaimed, smiling. “Damn—it’s good to see you!”

“Good to see you too, Captain.” His first mate and best friend nodded but there was a look in his eyes Thrace couldn’t quite read—an uncertainty, as if Solar was worried about something. “I’ve been searching for you forever it seems. I’m glad to find you safe and sound.”

“I feel the same.” Thrace felt a stab of conscious. “Forgive me for not searching for you as well. I have…unfinished business here on the Kindred Mother Ship.”

“Don’t worry yourself about it, Captain,” Solar said. “I landed on my feet after we were both sold at the Flesh Bazaar. I was bought by a mistress from Yonnie Six. In fact…that’s one of the things I wanted to tell you about.” His face took on a look of grim determination.

“Oh?” Thrace frowned. What was Solar holding back? He could tell from the other Havoc’s expression that something was wrong—what was the problem?

“Yes.” Solar nodded firmly and lifted his chin. “Captain, I have broken my Havoc oath—I have bonded myself to a female.” He reached off screen and pulled a little female with a long waterfall of rippling auburn hair to him. “Captain Thrace, meet my lover and my bonded mate, Kaylee.”

“Hi!” the girl said and snuggled close to Solar, pressing her cheek to his chest as she eyed Thrace uncertainly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hello.” Thrace arched an eyebrow at Solar and sent a mental call back to his suite. “So, you bonded yourself to your mistress,” he said aloud.

“I did,” Solar acknowledged, nodding firmly. “And I would do so again. I know that we Havoc are not supposed to bond but, well…” He cleared his throat. “I love her, Captain. And I will not leave her.”

“I never asked you to,” Thrace said. “Where are you calling me from?”

“Where?” Solar still seemed to be in shock over Thrace’s reaction—or rather, non-reaction—to his mating. “Uh, we’re aboard The Empress. I got her out of drydock on Padge because I thought she’d be the fastest way to get around and find you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Thrace told him. “That was actually going to be my plan of attack once I started searching for you. The Empress is one of the fastest ships around—remember the time we outran that band of Rothian pirates?”

“How could I forget?” Solar laughed. “We were light years away before they even knew we’d left! We—”

Just then Trin came into the room. She looked at the viewscreen curiously and then came up to put her arm around Thrace.

“Hi baby, what is it? I got here as fast as I could.”

“Captain…” Solar’s eyes grew wide. “Who—?”

“This is my Mistress, Trin.” Thrace touched the collar studded with Lathvian sapphires that he wore around his throat. “She is also my lover and my Deep-Bonded mate.”

Solar’s eyes grew so wide they looked like they might take over his entire head. “Captain, really? You not only bonded with her but you gave her the Deep Bond?”

“Best decision of my life,” Thrace said, nodding and giving Trin a kiss which she returned with interest. “If you plan to have children, you should consider it yourself.”

“I will.” Solar still looked dazed. He cleared his throat. “So, now that I know you’re safe I’ll be returning The Empress to you, Captain Thrace. In fact, we’re just outside the Gatspian wormhole so we should be at your location very soon.”

“Wait a minute—” Thrace raised a hand. “The Gatspian wormhole?”

“Well, yes.” Solar nodded. “We were searching this sector when I finally got word that you were aboard the Kindred Mother Ship.”

“Do we still have that portable scoop modulator aboard The Empress?”

“Of course.” Solar shrugged. “Why—do you need it?”

“I don’t, but I know someone who does.” Thrace turned his head. “Commander Sylvan! Could you come in here, please?”

“Yes?” The blond Kindred came around the corner. “Is there a problem, Thrace?”

“No problem.” Thrace grinned at him. “I think we have a solution that will get Rone and Kate back on Emily’s track in no time.”

Solar frowned. “Kate and Rone? Who are they?”

“People you’re going to meet and help,” Thrace told him. “Listen up, First Mate Solar, I have a job for you…”

Chapter Twenty-four

The Holy Mountains of Rageron weren’t anything like what Emily had expected. Then again, growing up in flatter-than-a-pancake Florida she hadn’t had much chance to explore any mountains. She had taken yearly visits to her grandfather’s cabin in the Blue Ridge—which was absolutely beautiful. But the Blue Ridge was blue in name alone. The Holy Mountains of Rageron were literally blue—covered in vegetation that ranged from the palest periwinkle to the deepest indigo. It was breathtaking—and a bit intimidating.

They flew down in the shuttle and Tragar landed them on a steeply curving slope that led up to a vast plateau. On it was a tall, narrow building made of pure white stone. In fact, the stone was so white it was dazzling and Emily had to shield her eyes as she looked up at it.

“Come,” Tragar said. “The Holy Council awaits.”

They started to climb the hill together and Emily reached for his hand.

“You should not,” Tragar warned in a low voice. “The Council will not look kindly on me touching you publicly when I am not your chosen mate.”

“You are my chosen mate.” Emily entwined their fingers defiantly. “And I want to make sure they know it.”

The big Kindred made no more protests but simply squeezed her hand gently with his own. The gesture gave Emily a warm, tingly feeling and she shot him a small smile. She was certain that no matter what the Holy Council threw at them, they would be all right as long as they stayed together.

They reached the crest of the hill at last and found themselves facing three elderly Kindred, all of them dressed in pure white, long sleeved robes. Two were males with iron gray hair and one had a long gray beard that reached almost to his knees. Standing in front of them was one of the rare female Kindred. She was an older woman with a deeply lined face and long hair which was a mixture of gray and faded olive green. Her eyes had pale green whites and emerald green irises. It was a striking combination.

“Welcome, Khalla-to-be,” she said, stepping forward and extending both hands to Emily. “Welcome to the Temple of the Transfiguration where you will complete your Tenrah.”

“Um, thank you.” In order to take the older woman’s hands, Emily had to let go of Tragar’s. She didn’t want to but it seemed rude to refuse the gesture of greeting. “Thank you,” she said again, taking both the woman’s hands in hers. “Are you in charge here?”

“Yes, I am the High Priestess of the Temple and the Head of the Holy Council. You may call me Mother Chundra. And these two Elders are called Brother Hurx and Brother Gr’nir.” She nodded at the two elderly Kindred males behind her. “They are also on the Council.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Emily said, bowing her head in what she hoped was a respectful way. “We’ve had a long trip to get here.”

“So I understand. Master Xen’dex called ahead and notified us of your arrival.” Mother Chundra nodded gracefully. “We are most pleased to have you here, child. Though I must say, we have never had a Khalla come to us under such unusual circumstances. Am I to understand that you did not even know you were Khalla until this male found you?”

“This male is Tragar.” Emily released the older woman’s hands and hooked her arm possessively through the big Kindred’s. “He saved my life and kept me from dying through the first three stages of Tenrah.” She took a deep breath. “He is also my chosen mate.”

Mother Chundra frowned. “That is not for you to say, child. A Khalla cannot choose her own mate—such a choice is too important to be left to any but the Council.”

“He’s the one I want.” Emily lifted her chin. “The only one I want.”

The two Kindred males behind Mother Chundra were muttering together and then one of them—Brother Hurx, Emily thought—put a hand on Mother Chundra’s shoulder and whispered into her ear.

“Very well,” she said, nodding at them and then at Emily. “Brother Hurx makes a valid point—a Khalla’s wishes are very important in this process. We will give due and careful consideration to your request. This male who found you and saved your life will certainly be included in the candidates for your chosen mate.”

Emily wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that but when she looked at Tragar, he simply nodded. Well, maybe there would be a bunch of guys for her to choose from and he would be one of them. In which case, she would just point to him and be done with it.

“Well, all right, I guess…” she said doubtfully.

“Good. Then it is decided.”

Mother Chundra clapped her hands twice and suddenly two more females appeared. They looked to be much younger—probably Emily’s age. One of them had green streaked hair and green eyes, like the High Priestess and the other had the deep indigo eyes and black hair like the image of Tragar’s wife. She must be one of the Ancient Ones, Emily thought.

“Welcome, Khalla-to-be,” the girl with green eyes said. “Let us lead you to your chambers and bathe you with the Juice of Refreshment to ease the tension from your weary limbs.”

“And we will feed you on the Feast of Becoming so that your Tenrah can progress as it should,” the girl with Indigo eyes said.

“Um…” Emily wasn’t sure about taking a bath in any kind of juice and she didn’t want to leave Tragar. But the two girls were already pulling her away. She looked back at the big Kindred anxiously. “Tragar?”

“Go, my Khalla.” He nodded at her and she thought he looked sad.

“Will you be all right? Will you…” She wanted to be sure he wouldn’t hurt himself while she was gone. Tragar seemed to understand.

“I will be here waiting for you, my Khalla,” he said. “I swear it.”

“All right.” Emily felt marginally better about leaving him. And he had promised not to do away with himself. “Okay then, I’ll see you later. I…I love you.” She felt a little shy about saying the words out loud in front of all these strangers but she wanted him to know how she felt.

He smiled. “And I, you. Go. I will wait for you.”

Emily thought she saw the High Priestess’s mouth tighten a bit at their exchange and the two male council members started whispering together again. But maybe she was imagining their disapproval. She hoped, anyway.

As the two girls led her away, she threw a final glance over her shoulder and saw Tragar standing there watching her leave with an unreadable expression on his dark face. Emily wanted to break away from her new attendants and run back, wanted to throw her arms around his neck and give him a kiss. But even as she had the impulse, the girl with green hair took her arm and ushered her into the tall white temple.

“Welcome,” Khalla-to-be,” she said in a low, musical voice. “Welcome into the Temple of Becoming. Come, let us show you to the rooms that have been prepared for you.”

* * * * *

Tragar watched her go with a heaviness in his heart. Now that he knew he loved her it was doubly hard to watch her go and know that he would never be with her again. For despite Emily’s insistence that she wanted him for her chosen mate, he knew the Holy Council would never allow it. They would take one look at his past and decide he was completely unworthy—which was what he knew in his heart to be true. Still, he had promised Emily he would be by her side for as long as he could and he intended to keep his word…up to a point.

As soon as the Holy Council appointed her a chosen mate and their bonding ceremony took place before the Visage of the Goddess, he intended to fulfill the contract, as he had promised Tier Shan he would. He could not stand idly by and watch as she was given to another male to cherish and protect—it was not in him to lose two females he loved in a lifetime and keep living. Better he should sacrifice himself for her as he had planned than to see her and love her from afar, knowing she belonged to another.

“Well, Warrior,” Mother Chundra said, giving him a dubious look. “I will show you to the Candidates Barracks. But I warn you not to get your hopes too high. Just because you found this Khalla and brought her here does not mean that you may expect to keep her.”

“I am well aware of that,” Tragar growled softly. “But know this, Priestess—I love her with all that is in me.”

“Which is exactly why you make a poor candidate,” the High Priestess said tersely. “A Khalla is to be adored and cherished and worshiped from afar. On occasion she may enjoy the comforts of her mate’s arms but he must not be her sole focus. She must spend the majority of her time traveling to areas in need of healing and blessing—not taking care of an inconsequential male.”

“Understood.” Tragar didn’t like it but it was also what he had been taught as a young male. A Khalla’s love was too precious to waste on just one individual. Her touch was healing, her very breath was life—she could not expect to lead a normal lifestyle. Her chosen mate was really only there to help her transformation into sexual maturity and to satisfy her sexual cravings from time to time. Other than that, he had no function other than to adore her from afar and protect her on her endless journey through the different regions of Rageron, promoting healing and peace.

“She does seem quite taken with you,” Mother Chundra said with a sniff. “Have your minds aligned?”

“No. That is, I do not think so. She did tell me once that she had dreamed of me and I may have dreamed of her but—”

“One or two instances of dream sharing signifies little,” the Priestess cut him off. “A Khalla’s mind is malleable. She must be shaped by the Council and put with the right mate in order to prosper.”

“I am aware of that,” Tragar tried to keep the growl out of his voice but it was difficult. He’d known all along he didn’t have much of a chance of being picked as Emily’s chosen mate. Still, the High Priestess didn’t have to be so fucking snide about it.

“Well, come with me, Warrior.” She nodded in a direction down the hill, away from the main temple. “We will get you settled and then you may begin the screening process. I warn you—it is very thorough. If you have any dark secrets that make you an unfit candidate they will come to light.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Tragar said heavily. “You’ll know what I am the minute you begin to look into me.”

“So I shall.” The Priestess gave him an arch look. “And I have a feeling I am not going to like what I see.”

* * * * *

Emily couldn’t stop staring as they walked through the temple. It was all tall, white walls and long, narrow corridors. It reminded her of wandering in a maze, especially since there was no furniture or decoration of any kind. There were skylights in the high ceilings which allowed pale sunlight to pour in from above, illuminating everything with an otherworldly light. Somewhere in the vast structure someone was playing a flute of some kind—soothing music drifted down the long, empty corridors and there was a scent like honeysuckle and mint in the air.

Emily took a deep breath, enjoying the fragrance as the two priestesses led her down one of the long narrow hallways.

“This is…nice,” she said at last. “Kind of bare but really nice.”

“We strive to keep clutter to a minimum,” the girl with green streaks in her hair said. “A Khalla-to-be has enough chaos within—she needs peace and tranquility without.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Emily muttered. Chaos within…it made her wonder when the other was going to make another appearance. After all, she was officially into the third stage of her Tenrah now and it was only the second stage when the Kit’tara was repressed. Was she going to start pushing forward, trying to take over now that Emily was in the third stage and they were at the Temple where they needed to be? The thought gave her a crawling feeling of dread which she tried to push away.

“…the Visage of the Goddess first,” the girl with green streaked hair said.

“I’m sorry?” Emily asked, realizing that she’d missed what the priestess was saying.

“I said we will be visiting our Sacred Grove with the Visage of the Goddess first,” the priestess repeated patiently.

“Okay, I guess.” Emily shrugged. “You know, I don’t know your names. I’m Emily.”

“I am Turra,” the girl with green streaks in her hair said.

“And I am Lit’aal,” the girl with indigo eyes said softly.

“Nice to meet you both. I’m Emily,” Emily said, holding out a hand to them. When they just stared at her outstretched hand, she realized they probably didn’t shake hands here and had no idea what she was doing. “Um…” She pulled back her hand feeling foolish. “Is either one of you a Khalla?” she asked.

“Oh, no.” Turra shook her head. “I am a female Kindred like Mother Chundra but I was born on Twin Moons. I was living on the Mother Ship among the humans when the Temple of Transformation sent out a call for priestesses. I answered…and here I am.” She spread her hands, smiling.

“Very interesting.” Emily smiled politely and looked at the other priestess. “How about you?”

“I am of the Ancient Ones,” Lit’aal said in a soft, musical voice. “I have always known of this place and one of my kin was a Khalla. She and I were very close and when her Tenrah came upon her I made the journey here to be with her. After that, I decided to stay and help other Khallas complete their Shifts as well.”

“That’s sweet of you.” Emily felt a stab of uncertainty. “And your kin…is she okay?”

“She is a full fledged Khalla traveling the world with her retinue now,” Lit’aal said, smiling a bit sadly Emily thought. “I almost never see her anymore but we try to spend at least a little time when she is here at the Temple.”

“I’m glad she’s all right,” Emily said, giving her a relieved smile. After all she’d heard from Saskia about how some Khallas didn’t survive their Tenrahs, it was nice to hear about one who had lived through the process and was doing well.

“Here we are,” Turra said as they came to a stop in front of a tall archway. “Try to calm yourself, Khalla-to-be and remove your shoes—we are about to enter a holy place.”

Emily slipped off the low, comfortable shoes that Saskia had given her to go with the flowing green skirt and top and followed the two priestesses through a high, white archway.

Inside the archway was the last thing she’d expected to find inside a building—a bunch of trees. Not just one or two potted plants either—a real forest of green and purple trees growing in two graceful groves. They marched in straight lines that led from the doorway all the way up to a twenty-foot tall, pure white marble statue at the end of the room.

Emily took a deep breath and decided that this was where the honeysuckle and mint scent was coming from. There room was flooded with sunshine from skylights high above and there was a grassy path between the two lines of trees that led directly to the statue.

“Come,” invited Lit’aal who, up until now, hadn’t said much. “Show your reverence to the Mother of All Life.”

“I…um…” Emily didn’t want to insult their beliefs by telling them she didn’t believe in their religion so she allowed herself to be led up the grassy path to stand before the huge marble statue.

The statue had a stern but kind face and Emily almost felt like it was really looking at her, which was silly. The two priestesses bowed low and she copied their actions somewhat awkwardly.

Suddenly she felt an all too familiar surge inside her. It was the other, trying to come forward. Emily could feel her inside, waking as if from a long nap and then rushing up to look out of Emily’s eyes, to see the statue of the Goddess.

“What?” she started to say. But what came out instead was, “Mother!”

“Yes, the Goddess is the Mother of All Life,” Turra answered her involuntary exclamation.

“Mother!” the other said again and Emily found she could not drag her eyes from the statue.

No! She struggled with all her might. No, get back! Through main force of will, she somehow forced the other back down inside her. The effort left her breathless and shaky and she hoped the two priestesses couldn’t tell. Luckily, all three of them were still bowing which hid her face somewhat.

“Mother…our mother,” whispered the other, but this time it was only inside Emily’s head.

No, she thought again fiercely, addressing the entity inside her. No, you can’t just take over like that—I won’t let you! She felt the other shift restlessly and then go still. For the moment she was subdued but when might she rise again? Emily had the idea that the statue had somehow brought her back from wherever she’d been sleeping or dreaming—but why?

“This is, of course, only a visage of the Mother,” Turra said as they all rose from their bows. “The true Mother of All Life is not simply a statue. She is real and near us at all times.”

“Oh. Uh, of course,” Emily said weakly. “Look, I’m really tired and it’s been a long, crazy trip. Do you think there’s any way I could go lie down somewhere?”

She didn’t really want a nap but she was exhausted after her internal struggle and it seemed like a convenient excuse to get away from the Sacred Grove. She was almost certain the statue was what had woken the other—Emily wanted to get the Hell away from it.

“I am sorry, Khalla-to-be. But there is no time now for napping,” Turra said as she led Emily back down the aisle and out of the sacred area. “Before you rest we must ready you for the ceremony.”

“The ceremony? What ceremony?” Emily asked, bewildered.

“Why the ceremony where your chosen mate will be decided, of course,” Lit’aal said. “You will want to look beautiful for that, of course—think of all the candidates hoping to be chosen.”

“There doesn’t really need to be a ceremony,” Emily protested as they led her out of the Sacred Grove and down another long hallway. “I already know who I’m going to pick. I don’t want the other guys to get their hopes up.”

“Oh, you will not be choosing yourself.” Lit’aal shook her head. “Mother Chundra will have the final say.”

“But she said they would consider my wishes!” Emily felt a stab of panic and inside her, the other shifted restlessly too. Clearly neither of them wanted anyone but Tragar.

“Of course she will,” Turra said soothingly. “Very often a Khalla-to-be is allowed to have the male she wishes.”

“Very often isn’t good enough,” Emily protested. “I only want Tragar! He found me and told me what I was. He protected me. He understands me—understands what I’ve been through and he doesn’t judge me for it.”

Inside she was imagining trying to tell some other guy about the rape—the very thought made her feel sick and shaky all over. How could she let anyone else know what had been done to her? They wouldn’t understand, she was sure of it. She could imagine the look of pity and revulsion in their eyes as she tried to explain why her Tenrah had been so late in coming and how she didn’t feel comfortable being touched or having sex…

And that was another thing. If the High Priestess gave her some other guy for her chosen mate, Emily was pretty sure she was expected to have sex with him at some point. I can’t…I can’t do that! she thought frantically. She might have been able to handle it with Tragar, although she had a feeling it wouldn’t be easy. But with a complete stranger? No way—huh-uh. Not happening.

“What is not happening?” Lit’aal looked at her, a confused expression on her face and Emily realized she had spoken aloud.

“I’m not going with any guy but Tragar—that’s what’s not happening,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “I don’t want to be with some stranger on my freaking honeymoon night!”

“I do not know what the moon has to do with your chosen mate but be assured that when the time comes for you to lie with him, your Kit’tara will be so eager it will not matter who he is,” Turra said firmly. “Besides, all the candidates for chosen mate are very handsome—you need not fear that you will be assigned one who is not to your liking.”

“You don’t understand—nobody is to my liking but Tragar,” Emily snapped. Damn it, what part of “I don’t want to sleep with a stranger” did these two not understand?

“We can speak of it later,” Lit’aal said. “For now, here are your rooms.”

They entered a set of tall white double doors that looked to Emily like they were carved from some kind of bone or ivory. Slender white columns rose up to the impossibly high ceiling which Emily had to crane her neck to see.

“Wow,” she murmured, walking further into the room. It was an apartment out of a fairy tale.

A simple yet elegant piece of furniture that looked like a chaise lounge was drawn up before a firepit filled with pale pink fire-bubbles. Fuzzy, white fur rugs were scattered over the polished gray marble floor and to one side of the firepit was a large sunken tub that seemed to be filled with water and white flower blossoms. On the other side was a vast round bed circled completely with overstuffed, cylindrical pillows which made Emily think of the pillow forts she and Anna used to build when they were kids. Everything except for the gray marble floor and the pink fire-bubbles was white, pristine, and very intimidating.

“Do you like your rooms, Khalla-to-be?” Turra asked, smiling. “This is but a taste of the life that awaits you. Everywhere a Khalla goes she is feasted and pampered. Everyone wants to see her and be seen with her. From the richest to the poorest, every citizen everywhere will love you and speak your name with reverence and awe.”

“Really?” Emily shook her head in disbelief. “But…why?”

“A Khalla brings life and health and happiness everywhere she goes,” Lit’aal explained softly. “Her touch is healing—it is even said she may bring someone back from the brink of death if she wishes.”

“But that is forbidden,” Turra said. “The power of life and death is granted only to the Goddess. Even a Khalla may not circumvent death.”

“True.” Lit’aal bowed her head penitently. “I spoke unwisely. I only wanted Emily to know what she will be capable of as soon as her Kit’tara comes forward.”

“What if I don’t want her to come forward?” Emily asked, turning towards the other girl. “What if I don’t want to lose myself just to become this wonderful, magical being who can heal people with a touch but isn’t allowed to?”

“It is the Khalla’s blood or nectar which heals,” Turra corrected her. “But to answer your question, Khalla-to-be, you will not be able to stop your Kit’tara from coming forward once you enter your fourth stage or Hel. And indeed, why would you want to? The Kit’tara is like what the Earthlings call a butterfly—you are the outer shell or chrysalis if you wish. When there is no more need for the chrysalis, the butterfly breaks free and emerges.”

“Gee, thanks,” Emily muttered. The priestess seemed to be saying she was nothing but an ugly cocoon that would be discarded as soon as the real star—the beautiful butterfly Kit’tara—broke free. Emily wasn’t in love with that idea at all. It was both frightening and insulting. But before she could open her mouth to say so, Lit’aal was leading her to the white chaise lounge which was sitting in front of the fire-bubble pit and urging her to sit down.

“Please, make yourself comfortable Khalla-to-be,” she murmured. “You must be hungry and tired after your long trip.”

As a matter of fact, she was right. Emily was incredibly tired after all the emotions she’d gone through lately and she was also very hungry. The protein paste and bars, which were all Tragar kept in his ship, sustained her but she never actually felt full from eating them.

“I am a little hungry,” she admitted.

“Wonderful! Then recline at your ease,” Turra said, smiling. “Lit’aal and I will serve you the Feast of Becoming.”

“Um, okay.” Emily wasn’t sure what kind of food was involved in such a feast but she was so hungry she was certain anything besides protein paste would seem like ambrosia.

“Here we are.” Lit’aal pushed a wooden tray on wheels in front of Emily. On the tray was an elegant green clay pot carved with all kinds of mysterious looking symbols. Some of them looked like animals—strange ones that had beaks like parrots and tails like monkeys. But many of the symbols looked like eyes.

Weird, Emily thought. But the delicious smelling steam that rose from the clay pot when Lit’aal took off the top made her forget all about the strange symbols.

“The Soup of Far Seeing,” Turra said loftily. “Here, Khalla-to-be, you must imbibe it in this manner.” She handed Emily a wide, curving straw that was twisted into many loops and swirls. Emily took it doubtfully.

“A crazy straw? You want me to eat the soup with a crazy straw?”

“That is a zlicket—it is the traditional instrument of imbibing for this course of the feast.”

“All right.” Emily shrugged and put the wide end of the straw down into the steaming clay pot of soup. The broth was thin but cloudy so though she could feel the straw bumping against different ingredients, she couldn’t really see any of them. Still, it smelled really good and she was hungry enough not to be picky. Carefully, she sucked at the straw, trying not to burn her mouth.

“Do not worry that you will scorch your tongue,” Lit’aal told her, smiling. “The zlicket will cool the soup by the time it reaches your mouth.”

“Thank you.” Emily smiled at her and sucked with more confidence. Suddenly her mouth was flooded with meaty, flavorful broth. It tasted like the richest, most delicious beef stew Emily had ever had but there was a wilder note in it too—some kind of spice that made her think of curry. “Mmm!” She sipped again. “Delicious!”

“The Temple chefs will be gratified to hear that their creation pleases you,” Turra told her. “They have been preparing this feast for you since we were first notified of your impending arrival.”

“That’s very nice of them—please thank them for me,” Emily said. “Or maybe I could go and thank them myself? Where’s the kitchen around here, anyway?”

“Oh, no, Khalla-to-be.” Turra looked shocked. “A Khalla does not debase herself by speaking to such common, low workers. It will be honor enough for them to know that their food was eaten by an exalted one such as yourself.”

“I’m really not that exalted,” Emily protested, taking another sip. “I mean, I’m just a kindergarten teacher. Or I was before Tragar found me.”

“That life is over for you now,” Turra said, smiling. “Soon you will be exalted among all females—a goddess in mortal form.”

“Um…I guess.” Emily still wasn’t quite sure what being a Khalla actually entailed. To hear Turra talk about it, it sounded like these women were kind of like rock stars, touring the world with an entourage and performing for hordes of grateful, worshipful fans wherever they went. That kind of life didn’t appeal to her shy, retiring nature at all but she wasn’t at all sure how she was going to tell Mother Chundra that.

“You’ll love it, Khalla-to-be.” Turra’s green eyes gleamed with excitement. “You’ll see—it will not matter who you are mated to because you will spend all your time being adored.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound like my cup of tea,” Emily said carefully. “If I’m always on the road, when will I ever have time for my husband…er mate and kids?”

“Oh, Khallas do not have children,” Lit’aal said, shaking her head. “Some say that they used to, many ages ago but now, well, it has been over a hundred years since any Khalla gave birth.”

“Are you sure about that?” A little part of Emily’s heart seemed to die. Before she’d been resigned to never having kids because she couldn’t stand the idea of having sex. But now she and Tragar were getting so comfortable together, she was almost certain she would be able to do the deed—as long as she was doing it with him. And she loved kids—why else would she become a kindergarten teacher? The thought of having Tragar’s baby had even flitted briefly across her mind. And now her two attendants were yanking away her dream before it could even fully form in her head.

“I am sorry, Khalla-to-be, but it is so.” Lit’aal looked sorry for her. “But as Turra says, you would scarcely have time for children anyway. A Khalla is joined to the people she serves, even more than her chosen mate. She is an ambassador of good will from the Temple and all eyes are upon her ceaselessly.”

This job was sounding worse and worse but Emily didn’t know how to say that. Clearly to her two priestess helpers, it was the best gig in the entire planet. If you don’t mind being in the public eye constantly. Ugh! To cover her confusion, she took another big sip of the soup. But something stopped the flow before she could get half a mouthful. Frowning, she sucked harder. Was something stuck in the straw? Pulling it out of the deep clay pot she started to examine it and gasped.

The straw was made of some kind of stretchy, transparent material that wasn’t quite plastic but didn’t seem organic either. Lodged in its lower half, just below the first curve, was a bulging blue eyeball which seemed to be staring at her.

“Oh my God!” Emily nearly dropped the straw in a sudden surge of revulsion. “What the Hell is that?” she demanded, staring at the eye which still seemed to be looking back.

“A chiroth eye of course.” Turra spoke as though it was no big deal. “That is what the Soup of Far Seeing is made of—it enables a Khalla-to-be to harness her inner vision. Would you like to eat one of the eyes? It is said that those who do have waking dreams that often portend the future.”

“No, I don’t want to eat an eyeball,” Emily exclaimed. “I mean…” She took a deep breath and put the straw back in the soup so she couldn’t see the eye. “No thank you. I’m sorry—that just surprised me is all. We don’t…have that kind of stew on the planet where I come from.”

“Because you come from a planet with no other Khallas,” Lit’aal said soothingly. “Only a Khalla or a Khalla-to-be may partake of this dish without dying.”

“What?” Emily was freaked out all over again. “Are you telling me it’s poison?”

“Only to one who is not a Khalla,” Turra said.

“Well…that’s nice, I guess.” Emily swallowed. “But you know, I believe I’ve had enough for now. Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome,” Turra said as Lit’aal whisked the green clay pot away. “It’s wise of you not to fill up on soup. You must have room for each of the courses.”

“There’s more?” Emily asked apprehensively.

“Of course. Here, my Khalla-to-be, is the Tureen of Oration.”

“The what?” Emily asked, as Lit’aal put another steaming dish down in front of her. It was a broad, oval shaped dish made of some green metal and it appeared to contain a kind of bubbling, cheesy casserole.

“The Tureen of Oration. A Khalla must always be able to address her followers in an eloquent and charming manner,” Turra said.

“Try it,” Lit’aal added. “It’s really good.”

“I thought no one but a Khalla could eat this stuff,” Emily said.

The little priestess blushed.

“That is only the soup. This particular dish is not poison to non-Khalla’s. One of the chefs is a friend of mine and he let me try a little.”

“I thought you just said we weren’t supposed to talk to the help.” Emily raised an eyebrow.

“So we are not—or a Khalla is not, anyway. And it is doubtful whether her personal attendants should either.” Turra gave the other priestess a disapproving look.

“I don’t mind,” Emily said quickly, not wanting to get Lit’aal, who seemed like the nicer of the two, into trouble. “It looks really great—I don’t blame you for trying some. In fact, would you two like to sit down and have some with me now?” She smiled at both of them. “I hate eating alone.”

“Oh, no!” Turra looked even more shocked than when Emily had expressed a desire to go thank the chefs personally.

“We cannot eat the Feast of Becoming with you, Khalla-to-be, as neither Turra or myself has any hope of becoming a Khalla,” Lit’aal explained gently. “But thank you for asking us. It shows a good heart.”

“It shows an improper understanding of her status,” Turra sniffed. “But never fear, Khalla-to-be, we will educate you.”

“Um, thanks, I guess,” Emily mumbled.

“And now you should eat, before the Tureen grows cold.” Leaning forward, Turra took up a strangely carved wooden spoon and began ladling some of the cheesy, bubbling casserole onto a green metal plate.

Emily watched carefully but to her immense relief, there didn’t appear to be any eyeballs in this particular dish. It consisted of long, thin, pinkish noodles covered in some kind of white and yellow sauce. On closer examination, Emily decided there wasn’t cheese in it after all—it still looked good, though.

“Here, my Khalla-to-be,” Turra murmured, handing her the plate and a utensil that looked like four long chopsticks arranged in a claw configuration. “Partake of the Tureen of Oration and speak with the tongue of the Goddess.”

“Thanks.” Emily took a minute to figure out how to work the chopstick claw but finally she succeeded in gripping a large bite of the long, pinkish noodles and getting them into her mouth. The sauce was scrumptious—savory and light at the same time but the noodles were firm and flat and very rubbery—almost tough.

“How does it please you?” Lit’aal asked eagerly. “Is it not delightful?”

Emily finished the first bite with some difficulty.

“It’s delicious,” she said, not wanting to complain about how hard the noodles were to chew—though really they were so tough and fibrous she could barely get them down. “And very, uh, chewy.”

“Oh, that’s the way Tisla tongues are supposed to taste,” Lit’aal assured her. “It’s their texture that makes them unique.”

Emily paused with another bite of the long, pinkish noodles halfway to her lips. “I’m sorry, what did you say this is made of?”

“Tisla tongues—they are an animal native to the northern reaches of our world,” Turra said. “They sing the most beautiful melodies—those who have heard them say you cannot help but weep.”

Emily wanted to weep right now. Didn’t they have anything normal to eat? Anything that didn’t involve alien animal organs? She took another look at the long, slimy pink noodles—no, tongues—they’re freaking tongues—she reminded herself, in their coating of white and yellow sauce and knew she couldn’t eat any more.

“They’re really good,” she said, as politely as she could, putting the four pronged chopstick utensil down. “But I’m getting really full.”

Turra frowned. “You cannot be full yet—you still have many courses to go.”

“Why don’t we save them for later?” Emily asked, smiling brightly. “Something to look forward to.”

“Perhaps the Khalla-to-be would like the last course—a dessert the chefs labored over many hours,” Lit’aal suggested softly. “It is very special—the Cream of Courage.”

“Really? The Cream of Courage?” Emily wondered why in the world every dish in this feast had to be named after some kind of virtue.

“It’s quite delicious, Khalla-to-be. Truly it is.” Quickly Turra whisked away the tureen of tongue and Lit’aal brought out something that looked for all the world like a huge, puffy chocolate soufflé.

“Wow,” Emily breathed. “I have to admit, that looks amazing.”

“Oh, it is.” Lit’aal set the dish before her, beaming and Turra handed her a golden spoon shaped like a miniature shovel.

“Please, Khalla-to-be, partake and be strengthened.”

“Well…” Emily hesitated, the golden shovel-spoon hovering over the delicious looking dessert. “It’s not made of tongues or eyeballs, is it?” she asked, looking at Turra suspiciously.

“On my honor, Khalla-to-be, no.” The priestess looked at her earnestly.

“Well…in that case…” Emily dug her golden eating utensil into the puffy soufflé which immediately collapsed into a delicious looking heap of what looked like moist brownie crumbs and molten chocolate. Just like a chocolate lava cake… It was Emily’s favorite. She didn’t even stop to smell the bite she’d dug out of the dessert, she just put the whole spoonful into her mouth at once…

She nearly choked.

The flavor wasn’t at all what she’d expected. It was sweet—Emily would give it that—teeth-achingly sweet. But under the intense sweetness was a strange meaty flavor. And not just any meat—rotten meat. The texture was meat-like too—crumbly and chewy at the same time. It was like having a mouthful of super sweet rancid hamburger with slime on top.

“Ew…urg,” she gasped, barely managing to swallow the awful mouthful. She glared at both of the priestesses who were watching her eagerly. “That wasn’t chocolate!” she exclaimed. “That was barely food at all!”

“What is shokolat?” Lit’aal asked, frowning. “Is it a delicacy from Earth?”

“It is,” confirmed Turra. “It is often sold on the Mother Ship—Earth females prefer it to almost any other confection.” She looked at Emily. “But Khalla-to-be, we never told you that the Cream of Courage was made of chocolate.”

“Yes, but look at it!” Emily wished she could wash her mouth out—the cloyingly sweet and slimy rancid hamburger taste wouldn’t leave no matter how much she swallowed. “I mean, it looked just like a big, puffy chocolate soufflé and then after I poked it, it looked like crumbled brownies with hot fudge sauce. It looked so good!”

“And did you not find it to your liking, Khalla-to-be?” Lit’aal asked anxiously. “Xenox heart is considered a great delicacy here on Rageron. It comes from a very ferocious beast and gives the eater enormous courage.”

“Xenox heart?” Emily shook her head. “No wonder. Look, I don’t want to be rude but don’t you people serve anything that isn’t made of weird alien body parts around here?”

“The Feast of Becoming is made up of cuisine that will bolster a Khalla-to-be’s natural strengths and help to free her Kit’tara,” Turra said stiffly.

“Set my Kit’tara free?” Even as she spoke, Emily could feel the other shifting restlessly inside her. “Now I know I’m not eating any more.”

“These foods will feed your inner goddess.” Turra frowned disapprovingly. “It is to your benefit to eat as much as you can of each dish.”

“I have,” Emily said. “I can honestly say I couldn’t eat another bite.” She sighed. “Look, I’m really very tired. Do you think I could have a little time to myself to relax now?”

“We are your attendants and so we cannot leave you alone,” Lit’aal explained quietly. “But if you are tired, why do you not take a bath in the Juice of Refreshment?” She nodded at the round, sunken pool covered in the floating white blossoms.

“That does look wonderfully refreshing,” Emily said, hopping up quickly. From the look on Turra’s face, the priestess would have liked to feed her several more helpings of the disgusting feast and Emily wasn’t up for that. The idea of a bath seemed like a welcome distraction.

She went over and looked into the pool—the most delicious scent rose from it—something like pink grapefruit mixed with passion fruit mixed with strawberries. The surface was completely covered in the delicate white floating blossoms which made it look like something out of a romantic movie. All it needed were a few tall, vanilla scented pillar candles to be a total romance trope. Emily liked it—a lot.

“This looks great.” She turned back to Turra and Lit’aal who were standing behind her, watching her. “Look, I know you guys are supposed to stay with me but do you mind giving me just a little privacy to undress and get in the pool?”

“Assuredly, Khalla-to-be.” As one, they turned to put their backs to her and waited patiently.

“Thank you.” Emily slipped out of the long green gown and the lighter green top that went with it. To her relief, she saw that both her nectar and her honey seemed to have stopped flowing—at least for now. She didn’t have the urgency between her legs or the fullness in her breasts either so maybe all that business was over. Possibly Tragar had cured her of it with the wonderful orgasms he’d given her the night before?

Just thinking of the big Kindred made her feel homesick for his arms. It was strange, she hadn’t even know him that long. But to Emily, it felt like they had been somehow connected all their lives and had only found each other recently. She felt right when she was with him…and wrong when she wasn’t. Would she get to see him soon? She certainly hoped so. And if Mother Chundra thought she was going to accept anyone else as her chosen mate, she was sadly mistaken.

Folding her clothes neatly, she walked to the edge of the tub and sat down to stick her feet in first. The liquid in the tub wasn’t very hot but it had a soothing, silky feel that Emily liked. Careful not to slip, she lowered herself with a deep sigh down into the “Juice of Refreshment” as Lit’aal had called it.

The two priestesses were both still standing with their backs to her, waiting patiently.

“It’s all right,” Emily told them, sinking lower so that the floating blossoms covered her breasts. “I’m decent now. Well—sort of.”

Turra and Lit’aal turned around and came to the edge of the pool.

“We are glad you find your bath enjoyable, at least, Khalla-to-be,” Turra said, a bit snippily, Emily thought.

“It’s really nice,” she said, smiling. She felt bad about not eating any more of the feast but really, how could she? She could still taste the sweet, rancid hamburger flavor at the back of her throat and she really wished she couldn’t. “Um, why do you call it the Juice of Refreshment?” she asked, trying to change the subject. “Is it some kind of juice you put in the bath water?”

“There is no water in the tub—the liquid you are bathing in is the pulped remains of ten thousand sithra fruits,” Lit’aal said.

“Really? So I’m actually taking a bath in juice?” Emily frowned, swishing her arms around in the liquid. She wished there weren’t so many flower blossoms floating on the water—they looked soft but they kept scratching and pinching her arms and back and breasts as she moved.

“Indeed you are, Khalla-to-be,” Turra said smoothly. “First the entire harvest of sithra fruits is gathered from trees found only in the Deep Blue, just for this purpose. Then they are put in a huge pit in the ground under direct sunlight and left to ripen and decay for many days.”

“They are? They just let them rot?” Suddenly Emily wasn’t quite so sure about the refreshing bath.

“After they sit long enough, their inner succulence begins to seep out—it sweats through the purple skin of the sithra fruit and forms gray droplets on the outer, waxy layer. Soon after the zetze flies come to lay their eggs in the ripened fruit. Once they hatch and their maggots begin to squirm to the surface the fruits are ready to be pulped and strained,” Turra continued.

“Did you say maggots?” Emily swallowed hard. “There are maggots in here?”

“Only their pulped remains,” Turra assured her, as if that would make her feel better. “They are necessary to keep the lisix alive until the Khalla-to-be steps into the tub and its true nourishment can begin.”

“The what?” Emily was feeling worse and worse about the lovely-looking bath. “What did you say needs nourishment?”

Just then something moved beneath the surface of the liquid. It slid against her leg, long and firm and slimy.

“Ahh!” Emily gasped and jumped, sloshing pinkish liquid over the side of the tub. “What the—there’s something in here!” she exclaimed. “I swear I just felt something brush my leg!”

“Naturally, Khalla-to-be,” Turra said. “It is the lisix, as I said.”

“A lisix?” Emily’s heart was pounding. “What the hell is a lis—”

But before she could finish the word, the slimy thing was back and this time it didn’t just brush against her. This time it wrapped a long, oily tentacle around her calf and foot and began to suck.

Emily shrieked and attempted to hoist herself out of the water but the thing clinging to her foot was surprisingly strong and didn’t want to let her go. Still, she managed to scramble most of the way out of the slippery sunken tub. Her frantic movements disarranged the floating white blossoms and for the first time she could see down into the semi-transparent pinkish liquid. Something was clinging to her foot—something black and slimy with huge blue warts growing all over its body. The warts seemed to pulse as it sucked at her skin. It was wrapped around her like a giant leech and it didn’t show any signs of letting go.

Turra and Lit’aal were kneeling by the side of the tub now, watching her anxiously.

“Help me!” Emily begged them, reaching out a hand. “Help me, please! It’s eating me alive—help!”

But to her dismay and disbelief, instead of grabbing her hand and pulling her out, Turra started trying to push her back in!

“Be calm, Khalla-to-be,” she said and there was a steely glint in her green eyes. “The lisix is not trying to eat you—it is simply trying to purify you by sucking the toxins out of your skin.”

“I don’t care what you say, I don’t want it on me!” Emily had had a horror of leeches since she was a child and had gotten one on her while swimming in a lake with her sister. And what the hell was this thing on her foot if not a giant, blue-warted leech?

“Be calm,” Turra insisted. “You must relax and let it cover every inch of you in order for all your toxins to be released.”

“Cover every inch of me?” Emily stared at her in horror. “No—no! Get it off me now!” She appealed to Lit’aal who was biting her lip in obvious agitation. “Help me—please!”

The little priestess appeared to reach some kind of decision.

“All right, here!” She grabbed Emily’s seeking hand and began helping her to get out of the sloshing liquid.

“What are you doing, Lit’aal?” Turra, who was still trying to push Emily back in the tub demanded. “Mother Chundra said we were to feed her the feast and bathe her thoroughly. We have already failed at one task—if we fail at both the consequences will be severe!”

“I don’t care—she’s in distress.” Lit’aal’s indigo eyes flashed. “We cannot allow her to harm herself through fear. Stop pushing, Turra and help me get her out!”

At last, with poor grace, the taller priestess hooked one arm under Emily’s and started to pull instead of pushing. With the extra help, Emily slid out of the tub even though the weird slug thing was still clinging to her calf and foot.

“Get it off me,” she begged brokenly. “Please, just get it off!”

“That may not be easy,” Turra said grimly. “The lisix has been fasting many months, waiting for a Khalla-to-be to feed it. It will not wish to leave you until it has cleaned every bit of your skin.”

Emily felt the other rushing to the front of her mind but this time she welcomed her. She could feel her eyes burning and the voice that left her mouth was full of commanding authority.

“I don’t want it all over my skin. Get it off now or suffer the consequences!”

Both Lit’aal and Turra looked shaken.

“Yes, Khalla—at once!” Lit’aal leaned over her and began prying the slippery, black creature away from Emily’s leg and foot. Turra helped too, although she didn’t exactly look happy about it. After a few minutes of frantic pulling and yanking, they at last managed to peel the lisix off her and toss it back into the bathtub. It left a red mark on her skin but at least there didn’t seem to be any bleeding.

Emily dragged herself a few feet away from the slippery edge and collapsed, panting. Her heart was going at what felt like a million miles a minute and the breath was tearing in her throat. Her stomach was clenched like a fist and she was afraid all the awful food she’d just eaten was going to come rushing up at any moment.

“Khalla-to-be, are you well?” Lit’aal asked timidly, coming over to give her a towel.

“No.” Emily wrapped the towel around herself with shaking hands. “God, that was horrible—like something out of a horror movie! Why didn’t you warn me that…that thing was in the tub?”

“That thing is a rare and exotic lisix,” Turra said in a cold, angry voice. “It was brought here especially for your benefit that you might be purified before the Choosing Ceremony. Do you know how important the toxin removal treatment is? If you do not complete it, you will not be considered clean by the candidates who wish to become your chosen mate.”

“I don’t care about that,” Emily said grimly. “I’m not letting that thing get anywhere near me ever again!”

“But only think what the candidates will think,” Lit’aal said pleadingly. “The lisix sucks away not only physical poisons but also mental and emotional ones. If you will only let it cover you once and do its job you will be cleansed of all your impurities both inside and out.”

For a split second Emily was actually tempted.

“You mean it can wipe away bad memories? Past trauma? Things like that?”

Lit’aal nodded eagerly. “Oh yes, Khalla-to-be! It is only by allowing the lisix do its work that you will be considered clean and fit to be mated to one of the candidates. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise they may reject you,” Turra finished for her, looking grim. “You must come to the ceremony clean and fresh and new. If you do not, it will be known when Mother Chundra looks into you.”

Emily hesitated, considering. On one hand, if Lit’aal and Turra were right, this slimy, giant slug could perform some kind of memory wipe and take away the awful recollections she had not only of Grayson and the rape but also of Jason and how horrible and inadequate he’d made her feel.

On the other hand, giant alien slug. All…over…her…body.

Ugh! She shivered at the thought. She could still remember playing happily in Sherando lake as a little girl, she and Anna splashing each other until Anna had stopped and pointed to her hand. “What’s that?” Emily had looked down and seen the fat, black thing sticking to the back of her hand, pulsing as it drank from her. Emily had screamed and screamed and when Anna brushed it off and it left a trail of blood, she’d gotten so light headed she nearly fainted.

The memory still gave her the heebie-jeebies. But it wasn’t nearly as ugly as the memories this thing could erase. Should she do it? Just the thought of going back into the tub voluntarily and letting that thing ooze its way up her body made Emily feel like she was going to be sick. But still…

“You should complete the treatment, Khalla-to-be,” Turra said, frowning disapprovingly at her. “It will clear the way for your Kit’tara to emerge and make you more acceptable to the candidates.”

Emily’s resolve, which had been seriously wavering, hardened at once. The other might be getting closer to the surface all the time but she’d be damned if she would help the other girl take over her body completely. In fact, she intended to fight it for as long as she could. I don’t want to die just so she can be born, she thought. And besides, did she really want to get rid of her bad memories so desperately she’d allow a giant leech to cover every inch of her skin?

No, she thought with some surprise. Not anymore. I faced them—Tragar helped me face them and I’m stronger because of it. I don’t need to run away or feel ashamed—what was done to me was not my fault. I’m not going to let that slug thing wipe my mind just to get rid of it. My past is part of me, damn it and I will not apologize for it!

“No,” she said looking at Turra, who rolled her eyes in obvious disgust. “No, I won’t do it. And I don’t care what all the candidates think of me because Tragar is the only one I want and he already knows everything there is to know. He knows and he loves me anyway.”

“Suit yourself, Khalla-to-be.” Turra looked angry but Lit’aal pressed her hand gently.

“You must do what you feel is right,” she told Emily. “I understand how hard this process can be. My friend, Rennaly, had a very difficult time during her own Tenrah.”

“Thank you for understanding.” Emily smiled at her, feeling her heart begin to slow to a normal level at last. “And I’m sorry if this is getting you in trouble. I just can’t—”

“I understand.” Lit’aal squeezed her fingers. “It will be all right, my Khalla—truly it will.”

“My Khalla—that’s what Tragar always calls me.” Emily sighed. “I already miss him.”

“You do not have long to feel such pain,” Turra remarked. “For now it is time for sleep.”

“What? I don’t want to go to bed yet,” Emily protested. What she wanted was to go find Tragar somewhere but from the steely glint in Turra’s eyes, that wasn’t going to happen.

“You will see him tomorrow. Come, Khalla-to-be, you must be well rested tonight. Early in the morning comes the Ceremony of Choosing.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Tragar stood in a semi-circle with five other candidates, feeling unworthy and out of place. Every other male in the vast Choosing Hall had been training for years for the right to be here and each was distinguished in his way. Tragar was willing to bet his ship that none of them had ever failed to protect the ones they loved or taken up assassination as a profession. Every one was pleasing to the female eye and every one had a clean and honorable past in addition to serving as warriors to protect their home planet of Rageron.

I served once too, Tragar thought grimly. But it ended in disaster. Which was what he feared would happen during this Choosing Ceremony. All of the other candidates were wearing pure white robes but Tragar had elected to keep his black flight leathers and vest on. He wasn’t pure and clean within as the others were—there was no point in pretending otherwise by dressing up.

They all stood quietly at ease, hands clasped behind their backs, feet apart. But inside his gut, Tragar could feel a knot of tension growing. He would be seeing Emily again in a few minutes and then no doubt watching as she was given to another male. After seeing the difference between him and the other candidates, it seemed inevitable. Why should she be with someone like him who had failed in a Kindred’s most basic duty—to protect the ones he loved—when she could have a war hero or a scholar or a renowned medic instead?

Tragar had no answer for that. He simply tried to prepare himself for the inevitable.

At last when he felt his ragged nerves couldn’t take another moment of waiting, Emily walked in. She was preceded by Mother Chundra and flanked on either side by the younger priestesses who had taken her away earlier. Emily was dressed in a long white robe like the others and Tragar thought she looked flustered and unsure of herself.

His heart squeezed like a fist in his chest and he wanted badly to go to her and take her in his arms. It seemed like forever since he’d held her, even though it had only been hours. But since they had declared their love, he felt more attuned to her…and completely bereft when she wasn’t by his side.

“Now then…” Mother Chundra came to a stop in front of the semi-circle of candidates and Emily and her two attendants stood quietly behind her. “Let the Choosing Ceremony begin,” she announced. “First, I will Look Into all the Candidates.”

Emily looked confused by her words but Tragar knew well enough what they meant. He braced himself for the worst, stoically waiting to feel the priestess enter his mind and bring all his darkest secrets to light.

This could not possibly end well.

* * * * *

Emily watched as one by one the candidates came up to Mother Chundra and knelt before her. They were all really nice looking guys with chiseled features and golden eyes and black hair—traits of the Beast Kindred, she supposed. But all of their handsome faces seemed to blur together into nothing when she looked at them. She only wanted Tragar but he was refusing to meet her eyes. What was going on?

“You may rise, Daro. Your mind is clean and your past is spotless. You are a worthy candidate to be a chosen mate for the Khalla-to-be.” the High Priestess said to the fourth candidate to come kneel before her. So far she had said the same thing to all of them and now only Tragar was left.

“What is she doing?” Emily whispered, nudging Lit’aal in the ribs as the handsome warrior rose and went back to his place in the semi-circle of males.

“Looking into them,” Lit’aal hissed back, as though Emily should know what that meant.

“Which means?” Emily persisted despite the way Turra was giving them both the evil eye for talking.

“The High Priestess is able to look into the mind of a candidate and see his past. In this way she can judge if the candidate is worthy or not. All right, Turra, we’ll be quiet!” she added in a whisper as the other priestess glared at them and put a finger over her lips.

Emily felt a stab of dread as Tragar stepped forward to stand before the High Priestess. She knew the awful things that had happened to the Big Kindred in the past and it had been terribly hard for him to tell her about them. It hardly seemed fair for him to have to let the High Priestess into his head so she could see all his worst memories.

They were standing behind Mother Chundra and a little to the side so she could see both the High Priestess and Tragar clearly as they came to face each other.

“Come, Warrior—kneel before me that I may Look Into you,” the High Priestess commanded, motioning impatiently with one finger. She looked like she was ordering a dog to sit and it occurred to Emily that the other woman didn’t think much of Tragar or males in general. Maybe that was why she had become a celibate priestess in the first place.

Tragar made no reply but knelt silently before the commanding priestess. Emily could see the stoic look on his dark features but she wondered what was going on behind that impassive mask.

As she had done with every other candidate that knelt before her, the High Priestess placed the tips of her fingers over Tragar’s temples and closed her eyes. A look of concentration came over her face. But instead of letting him go after a moment and announcing that he was clear, she held on, her expression gradually transforming from intense focus…to concern…to horror.

At last her eyes flew open and she pulled her fingertips away from Tragar’s temples as though she had been stung.

“You…” Her voice failed for a moment and then she seemed to straighten up and force herself to continue. “You dare to submit yourself as a candidate to these holy proceedings?” she demanded, glaring at Tragar. “After all you have done? After the filthy impurities I have witnessed?”

“I deny nothing,” Tragar growled. “I cannot change the past—I am only here for Emily’s sake.”

“You are not fit to serve a Khalla!” Mother Chundra exclaimed. “You are not even fit to serve a normal female.”

“Hey!” Emily had been fuming but Turra and Lit’aal had put their hands on her arms, silently cautioning her to be still. Now the other surged inside her and she couldn’t be quite anymore. “Hey!” she said again, shaking off their hands and going up to the High Priestess. “How dare you judge Tragar for what happened to him in the past? None of that was his fault.”

“If you are referring to his painful and debilitating memories showing the loss of his mate and son, I will reluctantly agree that was not wholly his fault.” The High Priestess looked at her coldly. “But those are not the faults I speak of.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Emily was well aware that she was going against protocol—every eye in the place was on her and most of the candidates were staring at her as though she’d grown a second head. She’d never much liked being the center of attention but she had to defend Tragar.

“How do you dare to ask me that when you already know very well what wrongs this…this inferior male has committed?” the High Priestess demanded. “Must I list them all? Very well—firstly, having pledged his oath to the Verrak, he kills wantonly. Which means he has turned his back on the Goddess, to whom all life is sacred.”

“Tragar has his own code of ethics—he’s never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it,” Emily said. “And besides, if he hadn’t been one of the Verrak, another assassin would have been sent to kill me and I’d be dead by now.”

The High Priestess nodded grudgingly. “I will grant you that. It must have been the will of the Goddess for the contract of death that was placed on your head to fall to one of your kinsmen who knew what you were becoming.”

“See?” Emily defended. “So it was the will of the Goddess that brought us together. You can’t argue with that.”

“I said it was the will of the Goddess for him to find you—not for you to take him as your chosen mate.” Mother Chundra gave her a steely glare and then turned to face the candidates. “For as soon as he found the Khalla-to-be, this male began to mistreat and malign her.”

“What?” Emily was dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? You must have seen wrong—Tragar never hurt me. He helped me.”

“How—by striking you? For he did,” the High Priestess declared, looking at everyone assembled. “This male dared to strike a Khalla-to-be. First with his hand and then with his belt.”

There was a gasp and a murmur of outrage from the assembled candidates. Several of them looked at Tragar as though they wanted to rip him limb from limb.

“Wait!” Emily begged. “You’re taking that out of context! He, uh, spanked me in order to put the other back in her box. Un—drive my Kit’tara back, I mean,” she tried to explain quickly.

“If I may explain, though I know it will do no good,” Tragar growled, rising to his feet. “Emily was going through her Tenrah too quickly. I feared she would go through all the stages before I could get her here to the Holy Mountains of Rageron. That was why I struck her.”

“And I asked him to,” Emily said earnestly. “I was scared the other—my Kit’tara—was going to take over!”

“Your Kit’tara will emerge in the fullness of time whether you wish it or not—it is blasphemy not to welcome her and long for her coming,” Mother Chundra said sternly. “But even that is not as bad as the other sin I saw in this male’s mind.” She glared at Emily. “Tell the truth, Khalla-to-be, did he or did he not imbibe freely of your nectar?”

“He…uh…” Emily could feel her cheeks getting hot but she had to defend the man she loved. “He did,” she said, raising her chin. There were more startled and angry murmurs from the other candidates but she tried to ignore them. “He had to,” she said loudly, even though she felt like she was going to die of embarrassment. “My, uh…my nectar wasn’t flowing. If Tragar hadn’t…” She could feel her cheeks burning but she forced herself to continue. “If he hadn’t sucked it out, I might be dead right now!”

“There is no excuse good enough to partake of a Khalla’s nectar,” the High Priestess declared.

“So I should have let her die?” Tragar growled. “I could not do that. Though I take life for a living, I could not allow the female I love to die when I could help her. I knew it was sacrilege to suck the nectar from her breasts, and I did it anyway. I would do it again if it was the only way to save her life.”

“How dare you speak such blasphemy before this assemblage!” The High Priestess glared at him and then turned to Emily. “You, Khalla-to-be, may be excused through ignorance of the enormity of your actions. But this male…” She turned a withering gaze on Tragar who simply stared back in stony silence. “This male had committed acts which are an abomination against the Goddess herself! That he even dares to show himself here is the worst kind of wickedness. I want him removed at once!”

“What? No!” Emily exclaimed as two burly temple guards suddenly appeared on either side of her man. “No, leave him alone! Didn’t you hear him? He only did it to help me.”

“The nectar of a Khalla must flow freely and none shall partake of it—not even her chosen mate on pain of death.” Mother Chundra sounded like she was quoting something—maybe a rule from the Kindred version of the Bible or some holy text. Whatever it was, Emily didn’t care. She rushed forward, trying to pry the guards’ hands off of Tragar’s arms.

“Emily, no,” he said hoarsely, shaking his head. “No, it cannot be between us. I warned you this might happen.”

“Why? Because you helped me? Because you saved my life?” she demanded, her voice breaking. “So what if you broke a rule to do it? It’s a stupid rule!”

There was another collective gasp from everyone assembled and Emily got the distinct impression she’d just spit all over these people’s religion. But she didn’t care—it didn’t seem to be a true or devout faith. As far as she could see, it was just a set of rules that were keeping her and Tragar apart and she wanted no part of it.

“Khalla-to-be!” The High Priestess exclaimed. “I know you are ignorant of our ways but this kind of talk is completely unacceptable. It is no better than blasphemy and—”

Turra stepped up and whispered in her ear, giving Emily a significant look.

“Ah—I see.” The look on the High Priestess’s face cleared for a moment and she nodded before turning back to Emily. “I am informed that you refused most of the Feast of Becoming and did not allow the lisix to finish cleansing you while bathing in the Juice of Refreshment. Is this so, Khalla-to-be?”

“Yes, it’s so.” Emily lifted her chin higher as her other surged again, giving her courage. “I’m sorry about the feast—the food tasted strange to me. But as for the bath, I’m not apologizing for that. I was allowed to get into a tub with what amounted to a giant alien leech and nobody told me anything about it until it was climbing up my leg! I had a Hell of a time getting away from it and there was no way I was going back for seconds.”

Mother Chundra shook her head gravely.

“This is a bad business indeed,” she said, frowning. “A Khalla-to-be must be a blank slate—an open door that her Kit’tara may step through without any hindrance or reservation. How do you expect to form a good bond with your chosen candidate when you have not allowed yourself to be cleansed of all impurities?”

“Those impurities you’re talking about are my past! My thoughts and feelings and memories!” Emily exclaimed. “They’re what make me me. I’m not giving them up. Besides—Tragar already knows my past.” She pointed at the big Kindred who was still being held between the two Temple Guards. “He knows and it doesn’t bother him. And he’s the only one I want to be with—so it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.” The High Priestess’s face darkened. “For you will never be allowed to be with a blasphemer such as this! Choose another! That is, if any will have you.”

“No!” Emily glared at her defiantly. “Who are you to tell me who I can and can’t be with? You don’t even know me!”

“We can certainly remedy that.”

Before Emily could reply, Mother Chundra’s cold fingertips were pressed to her temples. There was a sensation of someone rifling through her brain and digging out her most awful memories. Somehow Emily understood it was the High Priestess going through her mind like someone might dig through a filing cabinet. She wanted to move, wanted to tear herself away but she was caught— held as though in an invisible net that wouldn’t let her go no matter how hard she tried to struggle.

No! she thought wildly as every embarrassing or awful incident in her life was taken out and examined with cold, dispassionate eyes. No, you can’t look at that—it’s private!

She wanted to fight, wanted to struggle especially when the rape was revealed but the Priestess held her until absolutely every awful thing that had ever been done to her was completely looked over. Only then did she release Emily from her heartless grip.

“So…” She said drawing back and giving Emily a look that was half pity, half disgust. “This is why your Tenrah was so late in coming to you.”

“No…no, please—don’t say it,” Emily begged, her throat tight. Admitting what had been done to her to Tragar had been hard enough and he had been understanding and supportive. She didn’t want a whole roomful of strangers to know her pain and shame as well. It was too much—too awful!

“I am sorry, Khalla-to-be,” the High Priestess said loftily. “But I must inform the candidates of your past—they have a right to know you are damaged before choosing to tie themselves to you.” She sniffed. “You could have avoided all this if you had allowed the lisix to do its work. Now, I fear it is too late and you must suffer the consequences.”

“Please—” Emily began again but the High Priestess raised her voice and began speaking to the assembled candidates.

“Candidates, be aware that the Khalla-to-be has not undergone the required cleansing before the ceremony as she should have. There is pain and hurt in her past that might hinder bonding. She—”

“No!” Tragar roared angrily, glaring at Mother Chundra. Emily thought he would have jumped on her but he was still being held by the Temple Guards who were struggling to drag him out of the room. He wasn’t making it easy for them, however, and they still hadn’t managed to remove him.

“She was taken against her will and violated by an alien male the first time her Tenrah came upon her,” the High Priestess continued dispassionately. “This wrongful and premature breeding delayed her Tenrah for some years and it has left a scar upon her that cannot be healed. So…” She looked around at all the candidates, still standing in a semi-circle in front of her. “If you still wish to be considered to be the chosen mate to this Khalla-to-be, stay where you are. All others, take a step backwards.”

All but one of the males stepped backwards, most of them giving Emily side-long looks of pity, disgust, and horror.

Emily wished she could sink through the floor. God, to have her secret shame revealed to so many people at once was awful. And the looks on their faces said they didn’t want to have anything to do with her now that they knew. Damaged Goods might as well have been stamped on her forehead in blood-red ink.

Mother Chundra crooked her finger at the one male who hadn’t stepped backwards.

“Daro,” she called, raising an eyebrow at him. “You are willing to be chosen mate to this Khalla-to-be despite her soiled past?”

He nodded grimly. “I am willing to take this challenge, Mother Chundra.”

“Very well, your bravery is noted. And as no one else wants this Khalla-to-be, is decided.” She looked at Emily who was fighting not to cry, holding the tears of shame back grimly. “Meet your chosen mate, my dear. You will have one night to prepare and tomorrow your bonding ceremony will take place before the Visage of the Goddess.”

“No!” Emily cried, curling her hands into fists. “No, you said my wishes would be considered and I don’t wish for—want—anyone but Tragar! I mean, I’m sorry,” she said to Daro who was standing there watching her with an uncertain look on his handsome face. “You seem like a really nice guy and all but you’re not my guy. Tragar is and he’s the only one I want!”

“You cannot have a blasphemer and assassin for your chosen mate,” Mother Chundra said sternly. “The candidates who are called to the Temple study and strive all of their lives to remain pure of heart, mind, and body—to be worthy of a Khalla’s affection.” She nodded at the Temple Guards who were still barely holding Tragar back. “What’s wrong with the two of you? Get help if you need to but take him away!”

“No—Tragar!” Emily sidestepped around Daro and the High Priestess and went running to throw her arms around his neck. The two guards on either side of him had his arms so he couldn’t hug her back, but she felt his big body trembling against hers.

“Emily,” he whispered hoarsely. “My Khalla…”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she begged him, seeing the hopelessness in his eyes. “Don’t leave me. Give me a chance and I’ll get away and come to you. Just wait for me.”

“I cannot.” He looked sad now—a terrible pain filling his golden eyes. “You heard the High Priestess. Though I do not agree with all of her reasons, I do agree with her assessment—I am not worthy of you. I never have been.”

“Who cares what she says?” Emily demanded. “We just met her today—she doesn’t know us!”

“It was not just her judgment that let me know I was unworthy,” Tragar murmured. “You know of my past, Emily. You know how I failed Landra and Jalex. I could not even fulfill a Kindred’s most sacred task—to protect the ones I loved. I do not deserve a second chance. Especially with a female as beautiful and rare as you.”

“So what?” Emily couldn’t help herself—she had started to cry. “So you’re just going to give up on me? On us?”

“I cannot do otherwise. Try to understand, I am stepping aside for your own good.”

“No, you’re being pushed aside. And you’re letting it happen!” Emily stepped back, her eyes hot as fire as the other stirred within her. “Don’t do this, Tragar! Don’t just give in. You said you loved me—now fight for me!”

“My Khalla—” There was a stricken look in his eyes but before he could finish his sentence, two more burly Temple Guards came to help the first two. Between them, they were finally able to haul the big Kindred away.

Emily watched him go, her eyes burning so fiercely the tears that she would have shed dried in the heat before they reached her cheeks. The other was restless inside her, pushing forward, demanding that Tragar was theirs and should not be separated from them.

Emily wanted to push the other back down but she seemed to lack the strength. All the pain and rage and sorrow inside her seemed to feed the other, making her stronger, readying her to come out.

Soon she’ll take over, Emily thought dully. She’ll come forward and won’t go back again. I’ll be gone. And I won’t even have Tragar to help me. He’s gone…gone and he’s never coming back.

* * * * *

“You saw what happened.” Y nodded at the monitor where the scene at the Temple was being played out before them. Truly, his Master was a wizard at knowing where to place his small, scuttling, furry spies. They had come with Tragar and Emily aboard the Kindred assassin’s ship and then into the Temple. They were so silent and stealthy that no one had noticed so much as a whisker twitching while their red eyes recorded everything and relayed it back to Master Two.

“I saw.” Master Two did not sound pleased, which confused Y.

“What is the matter, Master?” he asked, frowning. “The matter appears to be resolved. The girl is forever separated from her Kindred lover and given to another—so the matter should be resolved.”

“No, you fool—it is not resolved,” Two snapped. “The Seeing foretold she would bear the mother of a new race—it never said who the father of her child would be. If she is allowed to live, she may breed with another and still propagate the new race of Kindred.”

“Master…” Y could keep silent no longer. “May I point out that this whole scenario could have been avoided if you had simply let me kill the girl when we had her in our power? But no, instead you wanted to play games—wanted to toy with your prey’s emotions like a sadistic predator. So you had the witch give her those star-silver devices to wear which were supposed to kill her painfully and slowly—but the Kindred male removed them and cured her of her affliction. And now the girl is healthy and fertile and gone beyond reach. It is too late.”

“Silence!” Master Two’s voice was an angry roar inside his head. “Do you think I did not anticipate this possibility? It is not too late! Have you forgotten the call we placed to the assassin’s Verrak commander? He or another of his order will be coming to kill her soon.”

“Unless her Kindred Warrior kills himself and voids the contract that way, as he threatened to do,” Y pointed out. “Which I believe to be very likely now that the girl has been taken from him. He literally has nothing to live for.”

“Then he must believe that the contract has been dropped,” Master Two said craftily. “You will call him, Y—tell him you are my emissary and that I put the contract on the wrong Earth female by mistake. Tell him that his superior has already been notified and the contract is void. That way he will be taken completely off guard when a second assassin swoops in to kill the girl.”

“But what if the new assassin cannot get to her?” Y argued. He had found his voice now and he was unwilling to be silenced. “You saw that temple—it will be very difficult to breach and the girl will be surrounded by guards.”

“True…true…” Master Two sounded like he was thinking hard—the chip in Y’s head, which was located just under his left ear, throbbed and grew warm. “Well, we must have a backup plan…I have it!”

“What is it, Master?” Y asked.

“The old woman—we must go see the witch who fitted the girl with the star-silver devices in the first place. She still has a lock of the girl’s hair—it should be enough.”

“Enough to do what?” Y protested but his Master refused to answer.

“Take us back to the old witch—to Grandy See-er, Y,” he demanded. “And do not disturb me again until we are there. I have much to do. I am making plans within plans within plans. The girl shall not elude my grasp, no matter what. She will die and if her Kindred warrior is there to see it happen, so much the better!”

Chapter Twenty-six

“You cannot go to bed now, Khalla-to-be. There is much to do to prepare you for your bonding ceremony tomorrow. And after that, your becoming.”

“I don’t want to be bonded to that guy,” Emily turned her head away, refusing to look at Turra who was trying to reason with her. She was back in the fairy tale suite of rooms only this time the lovely décor looked bleak and ugly to her—no better than a prison.

“But you must be bonded,” Lit’aal said gently. “I am sorry, my Khalla, but once your mate is chosen, your body accelerates the Tenrah considerably. You may go into the fourth stage or Hel as early as tomorrow evening. When that happens, you must have a male to help slake your lust after your Kit’tara emerges or you could die.”

“I’ve told you—I don’t want her to emerge!”

It was true that the other had been slightly more helpful since she had reawakened and she felt different in Emily’s head—like a child that has matured overnight. She had even given Emily courage to face down the High Priestess—not that it had done any good. In the past, the other would have simply tried to take over instead of helping. Now, Emily could feel her hovering quietly in the background of her brain, like a polite guest, waiting to be called to supper.

Emily might have been willing to share her body with someone like that—someone patient and kind who would help out in a tight spot instead of just taking over and pushing her to act on her most reckless impulses. But polite and helpful or not, she was damned if she’d completely give up her entire body and existence to the other. Now that Tragar was gone for good, all she had was herself and she wasn’t going to give everything up just because everyone at this stupid Temple was telling her she was supposed to.

“At least come and walk in the gardens with your chosen mate. Daro longs to get to know you before the two of you are bonded,” Lit’aal said softly. “He’s very handsome, you know. And he’s a medic that specializes in the ailments of children—you will not find a kinder heart or a more gentle male.” She sounded wistful, as though she had a crush on the handsome, dashing Daro herself.

Emily gritted her teeth. “I don’t care if he’s a freaking model slash pediatric specialist slash saint. He’s not Tragar and Tragar is the only one I want.”

“Face it, Khalla-to-be, the one who brought you here finally recognized his own unworthiness. Now he is gone and he’s not coming back,” Turra said flatly. “And good riddance—I was shocked to learn of what he’d done to you while he had you in his clutches.”

“In his clutches?” Emily glared at her.

“What else would you call it?” Turra put her hands on her bony hips. “He was sent to kill you and then he kidnapped you.”

“He rescued me,” Emily protested.

“So that he could imbibe of your nectar.” Turra looked scandalized. “I know you are very ignorant of the correct procedures, Khalla-to-be, but what he did to you was no better than rape.”

“How dare you speak to me about rape?” Emily’s voice was trembling now. “You heard what Mother Chundra said when she told everybody my life. What Tragar did to me was not rape and I think I would know.”

“You know nothing.” Turra didn’t even try to hide her scorn. “But you will learn as soon as your Kit’tara emerges. I only hope she will be more reasonable than you are. I feel sorrow for poor Daro—it is amazing to me that he was willing to take on a damaged Khalla-to-be but perhaps completing your Tenrah will change you. One can only pray to the Goddess it may be so.”

“That’s it—get out.” Emily’s eyes were burning again and she knew it was the other coming forward but for a moment she was so angry she hardly cared. She stood up and pointed at the door. “I mean it, I’ve had enough of your crap—get out.”

“I am the Khalla-to-be’s personal attendant, appointed by Mother Chundra herself,” Turra said huffily. “You cannot simply dismiss me!”

“Oh yeah? Watch me.” Reaching up, she seized the taller girl by the back of the neck and started propelling her towards the graceful white door. Turra gasped and struggled but though she was taller by far, the other was lending Emily strength. She shoved the tall priestess out the door and glared at her. “And don’t come back.”

“You…you cannot do this!” Turra was rubbing the back of her neck and glaring at her. “I will speak to Mother Chundra of it at once.”

“You do that,” Emily snapped. “And when you do, tell her that she might be able to separate me from the man I love but I refuse to put up with a skinny bitch like you on top of it. I’ve had enough of your attitude—now go!”

“Why…you…I…” Turra gave her one more frightened, angry look and then turned and stalked away, her bare feet slapping against the marble floors of the Temple.

“Do you wish me to go as well, my Khalla?” Lit’aal was suddenly at her elbow, looking at her fearfully.

Emily sighed and her eyes stopped burning quite so much.

“No, Lit’aal—you’re actually a decent person. I don’t know what Turra’s problem is though. She’s on some kind of a power trip or something. I just couldn’t deal with her anymore.”

“She is a relation of Mother Chundra,” Lit’aal said in a low voice. “Rumor has it that she will take her place as Head Priestess when the time comes for Mother Chundra to retire.”

“Well, that explains it,” Emily muttered, glaring resentfully at the skinny priestess’s retreating back. “They certainly have the same attitude.”

“I know you are unhappy but will you not at least consider coming to walk in the gardens with Daro?” Lit’aal asked pleadingly. “He truly is the kindest and most handsome of warriors.”

Emily looked at her sharply. “It sounds to me like you have a crush on him yourself. Why don’t you date him or bond with him or whatever?”

“Oh, no! I could never do that—he was picked to be a chosen mate to a Khalla. I could never aspire to such greatness.”

Emily sighed. “I am so tired of hearing people say they aren’t worthy. Why shouldn’t you date him if you want to? I certainly don’t.”

“You might feel differently if only you knew him,” Lit’aal said earnestly. “He is so kind and good and his eyes are the most beautiful shade of gold. He…” She broke off blushing.

Emily raised an eyebrow.

“You sound like you know him pretty well.”

“We walk and talk sometimes in the gardens at night,” Lit’aal confessed. “I…I told him about you last night. How frightened you were—how all our ways were strange to you.”

“So that’s why he stepped up when everyone else backed down,” Emily mused. “Was it because he felt sorry for me? Or because bonding to me was the only way to be near you?”

Lit’aal’s lovely face went pale.

“Daro is an honorable male, my Khalla! He would never dream of dishonoring you with another. Still, we did think…”

“You thought what?” Emily demanded.

“We thought we might still see each other…still talk even if no other contact was permitted between us. You see, the chosen mate of a Khalla is not the same as a bonded mate of any other common female,” Lit’all explained carefully. “She does not truly love him, for one thing—he is only there as part of her retinue to provide support and encouragement and to fulfill her needs if she ever has them.”

“So he’s just another part of the entourage,” Emily said dully.

Lit’aal nodded. “Indeed—it is believed that if a Khalla truly loved her chosen mate, it would be a great detriment. You see, her focus must be ever outwards, touring the lands where she is needed, bringing health and hope and healing to the people.” She looked sad. “My good friend—the one I told you of who became a Khalla—was not allowed to bond with the male of her choosing either. It…broke her heart.”

“No wonder that old bitch doesn’t want Tragar and me together.” Emily crossed her arms over her chest. “Because we love each other! And that would get in the way of her plans.”

“You must not speak so of the High Priestess.” Lit’aal looked shocked.

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” Emily demanded.

“Well…” Lit’all bit her lip. “Yes, in a way, I suppose. The Khallas are an extension of the Temple and the High Priestess’s power. They are beloved of the people and their support comes back to the Temple, making Mother Chundra one of the most powerful females on Rageron. I suppose that is why she keeps such tight control over the Khallas.”

“Why does she get to run this whole place and say who the Khallas get to bond with?” Emily demanded. “She’s not even a Khalla herself, is she?”

“No.” Lit’aal shook her head. “But she has been in charge here for a very long time. It is said that things were different before she took control but that was so long ago people can scarcely remember it.”

“So she gets to tell everybody what to do, even if it makes them miserable.” Emily frowned. “What about the candidates? Do they come here of their own choosing?”

“Some do,” Emily said carefully. “But some are handpicked by Mother Chundra. She goes all over Rageron looking for the best and brightest males. They are made to come here to the Temple where they must stay until they become the chosen mate to a Khalla.”

“But I thought that Khallas are really rare,” Emily protested. “What if they don’t get one?”

Lit’all shrugged sadly. “After a time they will be sent from the Temple but they must remain celibate all of their lives, as a sacrifice to the Goddess. It is…not a happy life.”

“For the candidates or for the Khallas either, apparently,” Emily muttered. “Why don’t people just rebel? Run away? Leave her boney ass here and go do their own thing?”

“Oh, we cannot do that!” Lit’all looked shocked. “The High Priestess is the Mouthpiece of the Goddess and the head of the Holy Council. She must be obeyed.”

“Even if it means getting married, uh, bonded to someone you don’t love and spending your whole life on an endless publicity tour?” Emily demanded. “No, I don’t accept that!”

“There is nothing you can do about it, my Khalla,” Lit’all said sadly. “My friend protested too loudly and Mother Chundra made sure she was bonded to the male least suitable for her.” She sighed. “At least you will be getting Daro. He will be kind and supportive of you, my Khalla. And I hope…” She bit her lip. “I hope you do not mind if we speak to each other from time to time. Not extensively, though.” She sighed. “Though I will miss our walks in the garden at night.”

The garden… For some reason, the idea of a garden…of plants and growing things seemed to resonate in Emily’s head. Suddenly she heard a voice whispering, “Milk…you must drink the Black Milk. Tis the sap of the Bitter Sorrow flower—it grows only on Rageron in the Holy Mountains.”

“The garden?” she asked, clearing her throat. “Is it filled with all kinds of flowers or what?”

“The Temple has extensive flower and herb gardens,” Lit’aal said eagerly. “There you will find every kind of plant that is native to the Holy Mountains.”

“That actually sounds pretty interesting,” Emily said. “You know, I think I will take that walk with, uh, Daro. But only if you come with us,” she added quickly.

“Oh, I couldn’t!” Lit’aal protested. “You need time alone with your chosen mate to get to know him, Khalla.”

“No, I need the only friendly person I’ve met since I came to this awful place to stick with me,” Emily said firmly. She hooked her arm through Lit’all’s. “Come on—show me the gardens.”

Lit’aal looked suddenly uncertain. “I don’t know, my Khalla. I believe I am supposed to call a retinue of guards to accompany us if we go out of the Temple at all.”

“Why bother?” Emily asked, trying to sound like it was no big deal. “Daro is going to be with us, isn’t he? And we’re not going anywhere dangerous—just out in the gardens. That’s not a big deal, right?”

“Well…” The other girl seemed to be wavering. “I suppose not.”

“All right then—let’s go!” Emily started pulling her down the long marble hallway. “Tell me more about Daro. How long have you guys been talking?”

Lit’aal’s indigo eyes lit up and she began to tell all about the man Emily was certain she loved. She pretended to listen but inside, she kept hearing the voice in her head urging, “The Black Milk, child—drink the Black Milk and you’ll never be unhappy any more. You’ll never feel anything ever again.”

* * * * *

Tragar frowned as he flipped off the viewscreen. That had certainly been a strange call he had received. Apparently the contract on Emily’s life had been cancelled—just like that. In all his years working as an agent of the Verrak such a thing had never happened.

It must be true though—the male who had called, identifying himself as an agent of the Dark Kindred, Two, had known all the correct information. He had even possessed the secret pass code that only the one who placed the contract would have. It was the only way other than death to end a contract but this was the first time anyone had called Tragar back and used it. Usually when someone wanted another person dead badly enough to bring in the Verrak, they didn’t change their mind.

He lowered the energy dagger he’d been handling before the call came through. Since Emily was settled with another chosen mate he had felt there was no choice but to go through with his earlier promise and sacrifice himself to fulfill the contract.

But what now? If the contract is void and Emily is safe?

Yes, what could he do now? He doubted Tier Shan would welcome him back with open arms. He had showed too much reluctance to follow orders lately. He thought of calling his superior just to inform him of the cancelled contract but there seemed to be no point. The emissary of Two had assured him he had already placed a call to his Verrak superior so there was nothing to say.

Nothing to say and now, nothing to do. No way to serve the female he loved, even by his death.

She’s gone, he thought bleakly. Gone beyond my reach and I cannot even sacrifice myself for her. I do not even have an honorable reason to end my own miserable existence.

Closing his eyes, he saw her lovely face twisted with sorrow, her eyes glowing gold with pain.

“Fight for me!” she’s said. “Why don’t you fight for me?”

The memory stirred something in his brain—something under all the guilt and self-recrimination. Fight for me… It made him wonder. Hadn’t his old Master once told them of a law…? But no—what good would it do to even think of such a thing? Emily was with the male she deserved…and one who truly deserved her. He would never see her again.

Tragar studied the energy knife in his hand again and thumbed on the blue, humming blade. Maybe he didn’t need an honorable reason to take his own life after all…

Suddenly the indicator light to the viewscreen started blinking urgently. Tragar almost decided to ignore it but then it occurred to him that the call might have to do with Emily in some way. What if she was ill or hurt or in danger? He doubted very much anyone at the Temple would contact him in such a case but he supposed there was an outside chance…

He hit the button and the viewscreen sprang to life revealing the face of the very male he had been thinking about moments before.

“Master!” Tragar looked at him in surprise.

“Tragar.” Xen’dex’s eyes dropped to the glowing blue energy knife in Tragar’s hand. “What are you doing? Where is your Khalla?”

“She is not my Khalla any more—she never was.” Tragar tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but could not. “She has been given to another—not that it is very surprising considering my past.”

“Yes, your past.” Xen’dex was frowning. “What of it?”

“What do you mean, what of it? You know what I am. You know what I have done.”

“And I know why you did it.” His old Master nodded. “You had a terrible tragedy, my student, but you cannot allow it to define you.”

“It already has.” Tragar contemplated the knife again. “There is no point in pretending otherwise.” He started to raise the blade.

“No!” Xen’dex’s voice was a roar. “No—you cannot do this, Tragar! Not now when the Goddess has given you a second chance.”

“What do you know of the Goddess?” Tragar growled, lowering the knife.

“I know she still loves you, despite the fact that you turned your back on her. I know she grieves for your pain and loss as deeply as you do yourself.”

“Then why did she let it happen in the first place?” Tragar demanded. “Why did she take Landra and Jalex away from me?”

Xen’dex shook his head. “I do not know. We live in a broken universe, my student. It is not perfect and the Goddess cannot always keep us from loss and harm and sorrow. But she still loves us and grieves with us. And there are some things that are beyond our understanding—things we will not know the reason for until after we have passed from this life to the next and we stand in her glory.”

“I am contemplating such a passing right now,” Tragar admitted. “Emily is with another—a chosen mate who truly deserves her. There is no reason for me to continue.”

“And is she happy?” Xen’dex’s sharp gaze bored into him. “Is she truly happy being given to this other male?”

“Well…” Tragar frowned. “No. No, but he is a fine, upstanding male and he deserves her.”

“More than you? More than the male who rescued her from certain death?” Xen’dex demanded. “If you had not found her, she would be passing through the stages of Tenrah alone and unaided—doomed to die because she had no male of her own kind to breed her once her Kit’tara comes forth.”

“To breed her…” Tragar’s jaw clenched and his teeth ground together as he imagined Emily being taken by some other male. No matter how worthy this Daro might be, the thought of his hands and mouth on Emily’s body made Tragar want to kill the son-of-a-bitch.

“You don’t like the idea of another male breeding her…guiding her through the mating lust, do you?” Xen’dex’s eyes flashed. “Nor should you. The Goddess gave Emily into your hands and that is where she needs to stay all the way through her Tenrah and beyond.”

“How can you say that? Why would the Goddess trust me with one of her most precious females when I failed to protect the ones she gave me to love before?” Tragar demanded.

“Tragar…” Xen’dex sighed. “My student, you cannot keep blaming yourself for their deaths. You did all that you could to protect them and afterwards, you avenged them. It was a terrible tragedy but it’s time to let go of the past and look to the future—your future with Emily.”

“She is out of my hands now,” Tragar said dully. “It wasn’t just my past the High Priestess objected to. She also saw the truth—that I spanked Emily to keep her Kit’tara in line and that I…” He cleared his throat. “I sucked her peaks and drew the nectar from them.”

“I told you that might be necessary,” Xen’dex remarked.

“Yes, but you told me not to swallow any of it. I…” Tragar sighed. “I swallowed every drop. I couldn’t bear not to. It was so sweet…and I could not dishonor her by expelling it from my mouth.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” his old Master said sympathetically. “Didn’t I tell you that in the past chosen mates always partook of their Khalla’s nectar?”

“We are not in the distant past—we are in the present and my actions were not approved of by the High Priestess, Mother Chundra. In fact, she called me a blasphemer and had me driven from the Temple.”

“Then you must go back,” Xen’dex directed. “Has the Bonding Ceremony taken place yet?”

“No.” Tragar shook his head. “I believe it’s scheduled for tomorrow.”

“Good. There is still a way you may win your Khalla’s hand—a very old law that even the High Priestess and Mouth of the Goddess cannot circumvent. Listen carefully, Tragar…”

* * * * *

“…visit the Deep Blue sometimes. My people would love to meet you,” Lit’aal was saying as she walked side by side with Daro in the flowering, ornamental garden. It was, as she had promised, filled with exotic herbs and flowers. Their mingled fragrances were heavy and rich—a melody of alien scents in the deepening twilight.

“I am certain that would be fascinating,” Daro murmured, his eyes shining as he looked down at the little priestess. “I have always wanted to go into the Deep Blue.”

Emily allowed herself to drop further and further along behind the pair until she was almost in another part of the garden. She didn’t worry about them noticing her quiet defection—it was clear to her that Lit’aal and Daro were completely infatuated. They had eyes only for each other which meant she had a chance to find exactly what she needed.

“You can tell the flower by the fact that it’s all black—root and stem, petal and piston—as black as night without another color in sight,” whispered Grandy See-er’s voice in her head. It sounded so real that Emily could almost believe the old woman was standing right over her shoulder, telling her what to do. For a moment she seemed to see her—hunched over a fire in the dark hovel she’d called her home, feeding pieces of long brownish-blonde hair—Emily’s hair—into a strange, green fire. “Take it, child, so you must,” she was whispering. “Drink deeply of the Black Milk and all your trials will be over forever.”

Emily shook her head and the vision faded. Could it be that Grandy See-er was really whispering to her, from so many light years away? But no—surely not. She pushed the ridiculous thought to the back of her mind. The Black Milk was all her own idea. It was the only thing that could halt her Tenrah in its tracks—permanently.

“What if it doesn’t just stop the Tenrah…what if it stops us?” whispered the voice of the other in her head. “What if it kills us?”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Emily muttered fiercely. If she could find that damn plant that was…

“Well, Khalla-to-be, it has been a lovely walk. Should we be getting back to the Temple?”

Emily’s head jerked up and she realized that Lit’aal and Daro had turned and were looking at her. Just then, she saw what she needed—a thick stalk of pure black with a silky black bloom growing from it was just by the little priestess’s foot.

“Well, sure—I guess,” she said casually, going to meet them. “Don’t come back—I’ll come to you. I haven’t seen that part of the garden yet.”

“Of course, my Khalla. We will wait for you.” Daro nodded his head respectfully.

“No, go ahead.” Emily made a shooing gesture. “You two go on to the gate—I’m right behind you.”

“As my Khalla wishes,” Lit’aal said. Turning back to Daro, she said something else and the two of them moved slowly towards the elaborately wrought metal gate at the far end of the garden.

Emily took the opportunity to get to the stalk of the Bitter Sorrow plant and then she leaned over for a moment, as though smelling a flower next to it. As casually as she could, she broke off the thick stem and hid it in the flowing white robe of her sleeve.

A pungent smell that reminded her of some kind of industrial cleaner immediately assaulted her nose. Emily nearly choked. Ugh—what a horrible stink! She just hoped the fabric of her robe would mute it somewhat. Looking down, she saw that an inky black stain was growing on the white fabric. Hastily, she hid it with her other hand.

“The Black Milk,” whispered the voice of Grandy See-er in her head. “The Black Milk, it is the only way.”

“Yes,” whispered Emily, hurrying to catch up with the other two. “Yes, the only way.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

“Hurry, my Khalla—you don’t want to be late for your own bonding ceremony.”

“No, I certainly don’t. Just a minute, I’m almost ready.” Emily looked in the viewer, taking stock of herself one final time. Her hair was put up in a curly updo that Lit’aal had worked all morning on and she was wearing the traditional bonding robes of a Khalla which looked kind of like a deep red kimono with golden patterns embroidered all over it. There was a gauzy white slip that went under it which Lit’aal told her was meant to be torn open by her bonded mate before they began the breeding cycle, whatever the Hell that was. Emily didn’t know and didn’t care and she wasn’t going to stick around long enough to find out.

She had other plans.

Carefully, she checked that the stalk of Bitter Sorrow was still concealed in her long red sleeve. She’d almost taken it last night, as soon as she got back from the garden. In fact, she had stood right here, in front of the mirror and lifted the thick, pungent stalk to her mouth, ready to drink the inky liquid that dripped from it like oil.

“Drink it,” the voice in her head which sounded remarkably like Grandy See-er had muttered. “Drink it now—you must! You MUST!”

But for some reason, Emily had hesitated. She wasn’t stupid. She was pretty sure the plant in her hand wasn’t just going to stop her Tenrah and make everything go back to normal. In fact, she thought it very likely that the inky black goo dripping from the ragged plant stem spelled certain death. Nothing that smelled that much like an industrial cleaner could be safe to ingest—it would probably be like drinking Drain-o.

She didn’t want the other to take over, but she didn’t want to die, either. Maybe some small remnant of her own personality would remain after the fourth stage of her Shift was over—Emily didn’t know. But she thought she might be willing to find out if she had the right person to find out with.

And that person was Tragar.

Though she was still hurt and angry at him for giving up on them, she understood why he’d done it. The loss of his wife and child ten years ago had devastated him and he still blamed himself, just as Emily had blamed herself for the rape.

But I can help him get over it the way he helped me get over what Grayson did—I know I can! If only we could be together.

But how? And what if he was already gone? What if he had flown away in his ship? Or worse, what if he had decided to fulfill her contract by taking his life after all?

Emily had pushed the thoughts away. He wouldn’t do that. He promised! He’s probably out there waiting, wanting to make sure I’m okay.

Anyway, that was what she had to believe to pull off the plan that had formed in her mind. The plan she was about to put into effect right now.

Lifting her chin, Emily gave herself one last look in the mirror.

“Are you ready, my Khalla?” Lit’aal called through the closed fresher door.

“Oh, yes,” Emily called back. “You better believe it—I’m ready.” She opened the door. “Let’s go.”

The Sacred Grove was just as she remembered it except the green and purple trees had been decorated with small, white lights that winked and twinkled beautifully. At first Emily thought they were some kind of Christmas lights until she got a better look and realized they weren’t strung together on any kind of a wire. In fact, they appeared to be some kind of lightning bug type creatures. Except instead of the lights being in their abdomen, they were on two long stalks sticking out of their heads. Were they the creatures’ eyes?

Before she could find out, a kind of procession started and she was walking down the aisle between the trees with Lit’aal right behind her.

Waiting at the end of the aisle, standing in front of the huge statue of the Goddess of the Kindred, was Mother Chundra. The High Priestess wore a stern, no-nonsense look on her face. She was flanked on either side by the two male priests who had greeted them when Emily and Tragar first came to the Temple. They looked solemn and wise but Emily was sure they were just window dressing—the High Priestess was the only one with real power here and she knew it.

Turra was standing by the priest on Mother Chundra’s right with a sour expression on her face. When Emily caught her eyes by accident, she looked away with a grimace. Apparently she was still pissed off that Emily had ejected her from her room yesterday—not that Emily gave a damn.

On Mother Chundra’s left, Daro was waiting patiently, wearing a white robe that looked a little like a toga. Emily thought her would-be chosen mate looked sad, though he was trying not to show it. She saw his golden eyes flick over to Lit’aal with longing. The expression confirmed what Emily already knew—she wasn’t the one he really wanted. Well, good—he wasn’t the one for her either and knowing that made what she was going to do much easier.

They reached the end of the aisle and she stood facing Daro while Mother Chundra cleared her throat. She waited until the assembled priestesses quieted down and began to speak.

“We are gathered here today in the sight of the Goddess to join this Khalla-to-be with her chosen mate, who—”

“Excuse me,” Emily interrupted loudly.

Mother Chundra glared daggers at her and kept going.

“As I was saying, we will join this Khalla-to-be with the mate whom she has chosen—”

“Don’t you mean the mate you chose for me?” Emily demanded, raising her voice.

The High Priestess couldn’t ignore her any more.

“Be silent!” she barked. “The Khalla-to-be is not permitted to speak during the bonding ceremony.”

“Or have anything to say about who she gets bonded to either, right?” Emily shot back.

“How dare you profane these holy proceedings?” Mother Chundra’s green-on-green eyes flashed.

“How dare you tell me who I can and can’t marry—er, bond with,” Emily asked angrily. “You don’t even know me.”

“All I need to know is that you are a Khalla-to-be which puts you squarely under my authority,” Mother Chundra snapped. “Now be quiet and let us proceed.”

“So I can be bonded for life to a man I don’t love?” Emily took a step back from the bonding ceremony party and slipped her hand in her sleeve.

“You are the most obstinate and willful female I have ever had the misfortune to meet!” The High Priestess glared at her. “Guards! I need a gag for this Khalla-to-be so the ceremony can proceed in peace.”

“I don’t think so…” Emily whipped the long, still oozing stalk of Bitter Sorrow plant out of her sleeve and held it up. “Do you know what this is?”

Beside her, Lit’aal gave a gasp.

“Bitter Sorrow! Oh my Khalla, be careful! That is the most dangerous of poisons!”

“I figured it was,” Emily said grimly. “Stay back or I’ll use it.”

“You would not dare!” Mother Chundra’s face was filled with disbelief but dancing far back in her green-on-green eyes, Emily thought she also saw fear.

“Oh, yes I would,” she said grimly. “I’d much rather be dead than bonded to someone I don’t love for life.”

“Guards—” The High Priestess called but Emily brought the oozing stalk right up to her mouth.

“Stay back! I can drink the Black Milk before they can get to me. And how will it look to the rest of Rageron when they find out you let a Khalla-to-be kill herself right in the middle of the Sacred Grove?”

“You insolent girl!” Mother Chundra stormed. “You—”

“Okay, now listen up—this is how it’s going to go,” Emily said, raising her voice so everyone in the room could hear her. “First of all, I’m not getting bonded today. At least, not to Daro.” She spared the tall Beast Kindred a quick glance and saw the shocked look on his face. “No offense to you—you seem like a really nice guy. But you should bond with Lit’aal, not me.”

“Oh, but my Khalla,” Lit’aal protested. “Daro is your chosen mate—not mine.”

“No, he’s not. Tragar is.” Emily lifted her chin and glared at the High Priestess. “And you’re going to let me go to him right now or I’ll drink every bit of this nasty-smelling sap. I don’t care if it kills me—it’s better than the life you have planned for me.”

Mother Chundra glared back at Emily, her eyes cold.

“You are bluffing,” she said coolly. “You will do no such a thing. So if you are finished making a fool of yourself, we will continue.”

“Fine—don’t believe me?” Emily lifted the ragged, oozing end of the plant stem to her lips. The acerbic scent of Drain-o hit her nose and she winced but didn’t let the smell stop her. Inside she could feel the other turning restlessly. Emily expected her to protest but instead, she felt only approval.

“Do it—you’re right,” the other whispered in her brain. “Death is better than a life of slavery and a bonding without love. Anything is better than losing Tragar.”

Emily was glad they were in agreement for once. She tilted the stalk and squeezed, waiting for the first oily drop of Black Milk to fall on her tongue…

“Stop!” The deep, male voice thundered through the Sacred Grove. It startled Emily so much she nearly dropped the stalk of Bitter Sorrow. Looking up, she saw a commotion in the assembled priestesses who had gathered to watch the ceremony. As she watched, they parted, their pure white robes separating like waves in the ocean to let someone through. A large figure dressed all in black came striding down the aisle.

Emily’s heart leapt.

“Tragar!”

“Emily…my Khalla.” He reached the front of the aisle and dropped to one knee before her. “Forgive me,” he said, looking up earnestly into her face. “Forgive me for not doing all in my power yesterday to stay with you.”

“I forgive you—you’re here now,” Emily whispered.

“Which does you no good, since I will simply have the Temple Guards remove you again. This time, permanently,” Mother Chundra declared. “Guards—”

“Stop!” Tragar roared again. He rose to his feet and faced the High Priestess head-on. “I invoke the Right of Conflict to win this Khalla-to-be as my mate.”

“You what?” The High Priestess looked completely nonplussed. “There is no such thing. You cannot—”

“Actually, High Priestess, there is and he can.” Brother Hurx—the Council member with the long gray beard spoke up. He and Brother Gr’nir had been whispering together behind the priestess’s back and now he stepped forward.

“What are you talking about?” Mother Chundra demanded. “How dare you contradict me?”

“I must speak the truth of the Law—it is my office and my function,” Brother Hurx said gravely. “The Right of Conflict is an ancient law which has not been used for over one hundred cycles—since before you yourself came to power. But it is still valid.”

“It allows one candidate to challenge another for the right to the Khalla-to-be’s hand,” Brother Gr’nir said, taking up where the other priest had left off. “And once it has been invoked, it must be followed through—preferably in the Arena of Conflict.”

“The Arena of Conflict?” Mother Chundra looked more confused and angry than ever.

“The grassy area behind the garden which you turned into the Dancing Pavilion,” Brother Hurx clarified. “In ancient times, it was used exclusively for contests such as this.”

“But…but this cannot be!” Mother Chundra looked angrily at the other two Council Members. “This male is not worthy—he is a blasphemer!”

“And he’s not under your thumb, isn’t that right?” Emily demanded. “Isn’t that the real reason you don’t want me with Tragar? Because I love him and he loves me and he won’t automatically follow your agenda?”

“How dare you?” The High Priestess was giving her a murderous glare. “You cannot do this! You do not decide matters here—I do!”

“In this, I am afraid you do not, Mother Chundra,” Brother Hurx said mildly. “As Brother Gr’nir and I explained, once the Right of Conflict has been invoked, it must be carried through.”

“But this male—”

“Was named a candidate by you, yourself,” Brother Gr’nir said blandly. “Had you rejected him outright and not so named him, he would have no right to invoke the ancient law. But since his candidacy was acknowledged by the High Priestess and Head of the Holy Council, he is well within his rights.”

“I suggest we all go immediately to the Arena where this matter can be settled in combat,” Brother Hurx said.

“We…I…” Mother Chundra seemed to be at a loss for words. Clearly, Emily thought, she was used to the other two Council Members just falling in line and doing everything she said. The fact that they were backing someone besides her seemed to have left her momentarily at a loss.

“Come, the sooner we begin, the sooner the victor can be declared,” Brother Gr’nir urged her. “We must hurry—the Khalla-to-be may slip into the fourth stage of her Tenrah at any moment.”

“Very well,” Mother Chundra snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “But I am not pleased about this. And there will be a reckoning for it—you may depend upon it.” She glared at Tragar and Emily and then swept down the aisle, looking neither right nor left as she went. She was followed by the other two members of the council, Turra, Lit’aal and Daro, murmuring earnestly together, and the twittering flock of priestesses. Emily and Tragar found themselves bringing up the rear.

“I’m so glad you came,” she whispered, looking up at him. “I was about to do something, well…desperate.” She held up the stalk of Bitter Sorrow.

“Poison!” Tragar grimaced and took it from her, throwing it down on the grassy floor of the grove. “I too, was about to do something desperate when I got a call from Xen’dex. He was the one who told me about the Right of Conflict.” He smiled and cupped her cheek. “That was when I decided to come back and do what you asked me to do—to fight for you.”

“Tragar…” She put her hands on his broad shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Thank you. But why don’t we just run away from here? Look, everybody else is going out to the Arena. Let’s just go get in your ship and make a break for it.”

His face looked serious. “I cannot. I must win the right to have you, Emily. And even if there was no sacred oath involved in invoking the Right of Conflict, you still need to stay here through the end of your Tenrah.”

“Why? What’s here that I can’t get anywhere else?” she demanded.

“The lovesuckle vines growing in the breeding suite,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Their blossoms breathe out a fragrance that make the passage from Vlammen to Hel much easier and less dangerous. Their scent contains a chemical your body needs when you begin to go into your breeding cycle.”

“All right.” Emily squeezed his hand. “We’ll stay. But I want you to know, you’re the only one I want in that breeding suite with me. You’re the only one I want to…to breed me when the time comes.”

His golden eyes flashed.

“I would not have it any other way, my Khalla. Now, come—the Arena awaits.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

The Arena area was a large, grassy circle with benches on either end of it that reminded Emily of every high school sporting event she’d ever been to. Daro was already there, standing beside Lit’aal who was gazing up at him with an expression of mingled fear and admiration on her face. For the first time, Emily wondered uneasily, what exactly this Right of Conflict involved. Was it just a hand-to-hand combat kind of thing? Or was it some kind of duel to the death?

She didn’t like to think about that. Though she didn’t want Daro for her chosen mate, he was a nice guy and she didn’t want him killed either. But she could foresee no other outcome of a death match with Tragar. He was, after all, a trained assassin. And he looked so much more deadly, standing there all in black in the pale Rageron sunlight, his long hair blowing in the wind and his golden eyes gleaming.

The High Priestess and the two other members of the Holy Council were conferring in whispers at the far side of the arena and the other priestesses had already taken their seats like spectators at a sporting match. Turra was standing behind the High Priestess with her arms crossed over her boney chest, the same sour look on her face.

“It appears that everyone is assembled—it is time.” The look on Tragar’s face was grim but calm.

“Tragar, be careful!” She gripped his arm hard. “I wish you didn’t have to do this.”

“But I do.” He cupped her cheek gently. “And I want to—it will be my honor to fight for you, my Khalla.”

“But—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Emily saw a strange sight. The grassy arena was located on the edge of the plateau the Temple and its various adjunct buildings was built on. A few feet from the wide circle, it sloped down sharply into a steep hill. Now, coming over the crest of the hill, she saw four people—two men and two women.

The men looked to be Kindred—or something like Kindred, anyway. Both were extremely tall and muscular although one of them had slightly pointed ears. Both of the women had red hair but they didn’t look like sisters. One was tall and slender with long auburn hair that fell in waves down her back. The other had a riot of coppery-red curls that blew in the slight breeze. There were strands of gold in her hair that made it glimmer in the pale sunlight like a shimmering mass of rubies. She was tiny, Emily saw—no bigger than a large child. But she had the full breasts and hips of a woman and she moved with ease and confidence. In fact, right now she was moving directly towards Emily—all of them were.

“Emily!” the petite woman with the riot of red curls called. “Emily Brooks!”

“What in the Seven Hells?” Tragar growled, stepping in front of Emily protectively. “Who are you and what do you want?” he demanded, glaring at the woman, who was the first of the four to reach them.

“What we want is to know that Emily is safe.” She lifted her chin defiantly and looked him in the eyes, though she had to crane her neck to do it. “We have reason to believe that you abducted her from her home on Earth some time ago and we were sent by the Kindred High Chancellor, Commander Sylvan, to be certain that she’s well and safe.”

“I’m fine,” Emily said, stepping out from behind Tragar. “Really, I am! Or I will be if this whole Right of Conflict goes okay.” She looked uneasily at the arena and the High Priestess who was eyeing the newcomers with barely veiled hostility.

“What are you talking about? No, never mind—just touch me.” The girl with curly red hair put out her hand. “Then I’ll understand everything and I can explain to the others.”

“Is everything all right, Lalli?” the big male with slightly pointed ears asked, coming up behind her. He put an arm around her protectively and Emily thought she had never seen a more mis-matched pair—size-wise, anyway. He was huge and she was so tiny and delicate looking. Plus there was something animalistic about him—even more so than a Beast Kindred…

Suddenly she knew what he looked like—the men she’d met in the Howlund on G’nera. The ones Saskia had rescued her from! Could he be a Wulven Kindred? Weren’t they supposed to be incredibly dangerous?

For a moment she was worried about the tiny girl with curly red hair. But she was leaning into his touch, taking the support he offered freely. And from the way he was looking at her, his glowing blue eyes filled with love and adoration, Emily could tell there was a trust between them that anyone would envy.

“It’s going to be fine,” the girl answered him. “I’ll explain as soon as Emily shakes my hand. Go on,” she said, to Emily. “It’s okay—I don’t bite. I have a gift that will tell me all about you the minute our skin touches.”

“Well…” Emily didn’t see the harm in it but Tragar frowned and held her back.

“How do we know it’s safe for Emily to touch you? Who are you and what do you really want?”

“We’re trackers,” the big Kindred with the pointed ears and glowing blue eyes, growled. “I’m Rone and this is my bonded mate, Kate. We were hired to track Emily shortly after you abducted her. But our ship broke down so Solar and Kaylee here…” He nodded at the other couple who waved briefly. “Came along and helped us out. Otherwise we would have been here sooner.”

“We only want what’s good for you, honey,” the girl called Kate said earnestly. “Please, come back with us! We were sent to take you home.”

“But I can’t go home until…” Emily shook her head. “Oh, to heck with this. There’s too much to explain.” Reaching around Tragar’s restraining arm, she gripped the other girl’s hand.

Tragar started to protest but it only took a moment. After a second, Kate dropped Emily’s hand and nodded.

“Okay, I understand now. Hey, guys,” she said, turning to her mate and the other pair he had introduced as Solar and Kaylee. “Seems we came kind of in the middle of things. Emily’s okay but we’re going to have to wait until the situation here gets resolved before anyone goes anywhere.”

“What’s this? Who are these people and what do they want?” The High Priestess came striding up, her long robes swishing over the grass.

“We’re just spectators, Priestess.” Rone bowed his head respectfully. “For now, anyway.”

“We’re here for Emily—to back her up.” Kate gave Mother Chundra a very unfriendly look. Emily wondered if she’d seen what the High Priestess had been up to during their brief handshake. What kind of gift did she have, anyway?

“Well, you cannot stay! No one outside the Temple may witness the Right of Conflict,” Mother Chundra declared.

“A-hem.” Brother Hurx, who had followed her over, cleared his throat. “Actually, I am afraid you have gotten that particular law backwards, Mother Chundra. It clearly states that anyone can come to view a Right of Conflict, even if they are in no way affiliated with the Temple. In fact, having completely unrelated persons present was often encouraged in the past as it proved the veracity of the contest.”

“Oh, very well.” The High Priestess was looking angrier and angrier. “But whatever you do, stay out of the way. This is a contest to the death and we cannot have any outside interference.” She stalked away.

Emily felt her mouth go dry as she watched Mother Chundra leave.

“To…to the death? Did she say to the death?”

“Do not worry about it.” Tragar’s eyes gleamed. “I will dispatch the other candidate and we will be together before you know it.”

“No, it’s not that!” Emily took his arm as Kate and Rone and the other couple went to sit on the benches. “I know you can slaughter him in no time flat—I just don’t want you to!”

“What?” Tragar frowned. “Have you suddenly developed feelings for him? Do you wish me to step aside and let you mate him instead?”

“Of course not!” Emily exclaimed. “Would I threaten to kill myself if they wouldn’t let me be with you if that was how I felt?”

He shook his head. “Well, then why—?”

“Because he’s a really nice guy,” Emily said earnestly. “And because Lit’aal over there is in love with him. Just look at the two of them!” She gestured to where Lit’aal was holding Daro’s arm much in the way she was holding Tragar’s. There was an anxious look on her face and she and Daro were talking softly, leaning in to each other to get closer.

“Seven Hells,” Tragar muttered savagely. “I had hoped to be fighting against an opponent who deserved death. I thought that anyone who dared to take you away from me fell squarely into that category.”

“He only agreed to take me on because Lit’aal told him how hard this whole process has been for me,” Emily said in a low voice. “All the other candidates think of me as damaged goods—you saw how they looked at me.”

“They are fools,” Tragar growled. “The worst kind of fools if they could not see how beautiful and perfect you are, my Khalla.”

“Thank you for that,” Emily said, smiling a little. “But that still doesn’t solve the problem—what are you going to do? How can you win the Conflict without killing Daro?”

He shook his head. “In truth, I do not think that I can. If the High Priestess would clear you to bond with the male of your choosing, the Conflict might be put aside. But I doubt she will agree to that.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Emily said grimly. “Come on.” She grabbed him by the arm and led the way to where the High Priestess and the other two members of the Holy Council were standing.

As they walked up, Emily saw that Brother Hurx was holding open a long case lined with some soft black material like velvet. Inside it were two long metal instruments that looked like swords with four, long, sharp hooks poking out just above the hilt. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she watched the Kindred priest beckon to Daro who came up and took a weapon. He hefted it in his hand uncertainly. There was a look on his face that said he’d never seen anything like it before.

Though all Kindred were warriors, Daro was also a medic—the Kindred version of a doctor, Emily reminded herself. And a pediatric one at that. So this fight was going to be a mild-mannered pediatrician versus a deadly assassin. It was going to be a massacre if the High Priestess didn’t back down. Emily just hoped she could make her see reason.

“Excuse me, Mother Chundra?” she murmured, coming up to her. “Could we please have a word in private?”

“What is it now?” the High Priestess snapped. “Have you thought of another way to profane the ceremony?”

“No, that’s not what this is about. It’s about saving someone’s life,” Emily said evenly. “Will you please at least listen to what I have to say?”

Mother Chudra gave her an angry look.

“Fine. But be quick about it—the contest is about to begin.”

Emily took a deep breath.

“Mother Chundra, I know you’re not very happy with me right now but can’t we just forget about this whole fight and go our separate ways?”

“Forget about the fight?” The other woman’s eyebrows raised high in skeptical surprise. “Do you not recall, Khalla-to-be, that it was your inferior male who demanded it in the first place by invoking the Right of Conflict rule.”

“Yes, but we don’t have to do it—you can end it with a word,” Emily said pleadingly. “This fight—this conflict—is going to be a massacre! Just look at them.” She pointed at Daro who was still eyeing his blade uncertainly and Tragar who was swinging his in deadly, efficient arcs. Doubtless he was just getting warmed up.

“Yes, I see the contestants. What of it?” Mother Chundra snapped.

“What of it is Tragar is going to kill Daro in the first five minutes. He’s a trained assassin with hundreds of kills under his belt and Daro is a pediatrician. They’re not evenly matched at all!”

The High Priestess sniffed. “That is not my problem.”

“But…don’t you care that Daro will die?” Emily demanded. “You handpicked him to come here as a candidate and he gave up his whole life to answer your call.”

“Which is only as it should be.” Mother Chundra lifted her chin and looked down her nose at Emily. “I am the Head of the Holy Council. My word is law.”

“Right,” Emily muttered. God, she couldn’t believe the power trip this woman was on! Still, she tried to keep her anger in check. “But Daro doesn’t deserve to die—he’s a really nice, upstanding, honorable guy.”

“Not ‘nice’ enough, apparently, for you to want him as your chosen mate,” the High Priestess said sarcastically.

“Well, no. He’s not Tragar. I told you when I came here that we were already together. I can’t—”

“The solution to this problem is simple,” the High Priestess snapped, cutting her off. “Renounce your intention to bond with that filthy assassin and return to the Sacred Grove to continue your bonding ceremony with Daro.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Emily said. “Tragar and I are meant to be together. He found me on my home planet light years from here where there has never been a single Khalla before. He saved me. Please, just try to understand.”

“No, you understand me.” Mother Chundra stabbed a long, boney finger in Emily’s face. “Either accept Daro as your chosen mate or watch him get slaughtered before your eyes. Those are your only choices.”

Emily felt her eyes starting to burn as the other came forward.

“Don’t you care at all that an innocent life will be lost just because you can’t have your way? Are you really that heartless?” she demanded, the voice of the other coming from her lips. Emily found she didn’t mind though—they were in complete agreement about this.

“The conflict is about to begin. Go and find a seat, Khalla-to-be. Your whining bores me.” Mother Chundra waved her away.

Numbly, Emily left the High Priestess and went to Tragar.

He stopped making the short, deadly practice swings and gave her his whole attention.

“What is it, my Khalla? Your eyes are golden—are you all right?”

“She won’t do it,” Emily said, feeling like she might cry tears of pure rage. “She won’t call it off. She doesn’t care if Daro gets killed.”

“So the High Priestess refuses to cry off the Conflict.” Daro came up to them, the spiked sword held loosely in one hand. “Forgive me,” he added. “I could not help overhearing.”

Tragar sighed. “Emily here fears for your safety.”

“As well she should.” Daro nodded gravely. “Even if I had spent the last five years training instead of practicing medicine, I still would not like my odds against a member of the Verrak.”

“Daro, what are you saying?”

The soft voice was familiar—Lit’aal. Emily groaned inwardly when she saw that the little priestess had crept up behind them to listen in.

Daro sighed and put an arm around Lit’aal’s slight shoulders.

“I am only saying that now may be a good time for us to say our goodbyes, Lit’aal.”

“What? No!” She shook her head, her indigo eyes wide. “No, you can’t give up like that! You can’t—I won’t let you. I…” Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “I love you, Daro! I didn’t have the courage to admit it before but it’s true—it’s true.”

“I love you, too,” he said gently. “I am sorry we could not have more time together.”

“Oh my God…” Emily put her head in her hands. “Oh, Tragar—I don’t think I can do this!”

“Do you wish me to step down? To let you…” His throat worked as though he was forcing the words out. “To let you bond with another?”

Emily opened her mouth but Daro spoke before she could answer.

“No!” He shook his head firmly. “No, you must not do that.” He looked at Emily. “I want to tell you how inspired I was by your actions in the Sacred Grove this morning. You would rather choose death than being bonded to the wrong person.” He lifted his chin. “I feel the same way. Though being a chosen mate to a Khalla is a great honor, I would rather die than be with anyone but the female I love.” He squeezed Lit’all’s shoulders and she burst into fresh sobs.

Tragar nodded, a look of respect gleaming in his golden eyes.

“You speak truth from the heart, my Brother. Though we cannot avoid this conflict, I give you my oath as a Kindred and as a member of the Verrak that your death will be swift and painless.”

“Thank you.” Daro held out his hand and Tragar took it in a warrior’s clasp. They gripped hard for a moment, each male’s fingers digging into the other’s forearm.

“I salute your courage,” Tragar told him.

“And I, yours.” Daro nodded.

“Enough of this endless talking!” The voice of the High Priestess rang out, interrupting the solemn moment. “This Conflict must begin soon. I have noticed that the Khalla-to-be’s eyes are glowing gold steadily now. She must have a chosen mate very soon!”

“Fine,” Tragar growled, throwing her an angry look. “We will begin.”

He released Daro’s arm and the two stepped back and faced each other. Feeling wretched, Emily put her arm around Lit’aal’s shaking shoulders and led her back to the benches. Somehow she got the sobbing girl seated beside her and found that Kate, the girl with the curly red hair was on her other side.

“What was that all about?” Kate murmured from the corner of her mouth.

“Mother Chundra—the High Priestess—could stop this with a word but she won’t,” Emily muttered back, her eyes never leaving the arena where Tragar and Daro were circling each other warily. “She’s determined that I should be with Daro but he’s in love with Lit’aal here and of course, I can’t be with anyone but Tragar.”

“Of course not,” Kate said sympathetically. “He found you in the first place, right?”

“Yes. Well, I mean, he was supposed to kill me,” Emily said in a low voice. “But he couldn’t. At first because of biology and the way Beast Kindred feel about a Khalla and then later because, well, we fell in love.” She gave the other girl a sidelong glance. “I know that sounds like the worst case of Stockholm syndrome ever—falling in love with your assassin slash kidnapper—but you have to understand Tragar. He’s had a terrible past and he’s so sweet and kind and—”

“Deadly,” Kate finished for her in an awed voice.

Emily looked up and saw that the battle was in full swing now. Tragar and Daro were circling each other, their weapons flying in sweeping arcs. Tragar moved with ease and skill, deflecting every blow the other Kindred threw at him with hardly any effort at all. His own blade was a blur but as yet, he hadn’t even attacked. He was simply moving around the arena as Daro hacked and slashed desperately, trying to find an opening.

But there was no opening to find. Emily had never been a big fan of action movies—fight scenes bored her to tears. But even to her untrained eyes, Tragar’s technique was fluid, flawless…and deadly, just as Kate had said. The air was filled with the sound of metal on metal and sparks flew from their blades every time they met. But try as he might, Daro couldn’t make any headway.

Tragar fought silently, a look of intense concentration on his face. As they watched, he made a sudden move, too fast to see, and Daro’s spiked blade went flying and landed harmlessly in the grass several feet away. The sun glinted off it, blinding Emily for a moment.

Daro scrambled for his sword but again, Tragar was too quick for him. In another fluid move, he was behind the other Kindred with his sword pressed to his throat.

“Oh God,” she breathed too softly for the weeping Lit’aal to hear. “He’s going to die—Tragar is going to kill him.”

“Looks like it,” Kate murmured back. “Now I can see why Rone and everybody on the Mother Ship was so worried about you—these Verrak fellas don’t play around.”

“I don’t want to watch,” Emily whispered, her throat dry and her heart pounding. “I can’t…” But somehow she couldn’t look away. The bench felt hard under her behind and the sunshine was hot on her shoulders. The heavy scent of flowers and herbs coming from the nearby garden turned her stomach. She became aware that her eyes were burning again—the other was as upset as she was.

“This isn’t right—he should not have to do this. Tragar, the one we love, he should not have this death on his conscious as well.”

I know, Emily told her. But what can he do? His hands are tied.

She waited anxiously for the final blow to fall—for Tragar to sweep the sword blade across the other man’s neck and cut his throat. She could almost see the crimson droplets pattering down on the dusty grass and smell the metallic tang of blood in the air…

Then, to her surprise, Tragar stepped back and threw down his sword.

“No.” He looked up, looked around the arena at the watching spectators. “No, I will not take this male’s life. Through all my years in the Verrak, I have spilled enough blood to fill a fountain but I have never taken the blood of an innocent.” He glared at the High Priestess. “I do not intend to start now.”

“You must, warrior!” She stood up from the bench she’d been sitting on and pointed a finger at him. “It was you who demanded the Right of Conflict! You must see it to its end or forfeit the hand of the Khalla-to-be!”

“I will do neither!” Tragar’s voice was a low, angry growl. “Daro shall go free and I will bond Emily to me despite your spiteful demands. You may be the head of the Holy Council but you do not have the right to ruin the lives or cause the deaths of others.”

“Then your Khalla-to-be will be denied access to the breeding suite.” Mother Chundra pointed at Emily. “Without the lovesuckle blossoms to ease the final stage of her Tenrah, she will have almost no chance of survival. So go on and take her if you wish—take her far from the Temple and never return. You may live a long and happy life together—if she survives.”

There were low gasps from some of the priestesses nearby.

“Can she do that?” Emily heard one of them whisper to another. “Denying access to the breeding suite is tantamount to signing a death sentence for the Khalla-to-be!”

“She is the High Priestess,” her friend whispered back. “She can do as she pleases.”

Emily felt sick. Was this really how it was going to go? Was she going to die after all when the final stage of her Shift hit her?

“I do not accept this—” Tragar began, glaring at Mother Chundra. He seemed about to continue but he was interrupted by a muffled shriek from one of the priestesses. Emily winced at the sudden noise—then the girl beside her began to shriek too.

“Oh merciful Goddess—look at it!” the first girl gasped. “What is that?”

Emily followed their eyes and saw something strange and horrible and somehow familiar appearing over the crest of the hill.

First came a huge, triangular black head as big as a beach ball. Black compound eyes glittered in the sunlight, flashing first bottle green, then gold, then neon blue. A long, narrow thorax with two insectile, chitinous arms folded close on either side followed. The body segment was striped in midnight black and red the color of old blood.

Finally, as the creature made its way nimbly up the hill on its long, skinny black legs, Emily saw a sleek abdomen that was partially transparent. Within its swollen curvature was a pulsing, bright green liquid. The final segment of the body ended with a barbed, inward curving stinger as long as Emily’s arm. It’s deadly, sharp point dripped with the green venom she could see seething in its abdomen.

The sight made her sick with fear.

“Oh my God,” she whispered faintly and she felt the other’s horror as well.

“Coming—it’s coming for us!” the other whispered and Emily had to agree.

She’d never been able to decide what kind of insect Tragar’s boss in the Verrak resembled and now she saw it was a wasp. A huge, ten foot tall, horribly mutated wasp with enough poison to kill every single person here several times over.

And she was its target.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Tragar looked up when he heard the frightened screams and a most unwelcome sight greeted his eyes. Tier Shan was coming over the crest of the hill, the light of battle glittering in his compound eyes.

“Tier Shan.” He stepped away from Daro, who scrambled to his feet and backed up hastily, going for his sword. As soon as he found it, he ran to stand in front of Lit’all, blocking her protectively from the menacing shape. Tragar had the instant urge to do the same for Emily but he knew it was safer for her if he kept away—hopefully drawing Tier Shan towards himself and far from her.

“Oath Breaker. Click-click.” Tier Shan’s breath hissed between his mandibles—clearly he was in a rage.

“What are you speaking of?” Tragar demanded even as his narsh began to burn unbearably. “I broke no oath.”

“Then why do you and the girl both still live? Why had no blood been spilled? No life been taken?” The Vash`aran clicked his mandibles angrily. “Why have you not fulfilled your contract?”

“Because it was called off!” Tragar protested, frowning. “An emissary of Two, the Dark Kindred male who placed the contract in the first place, called and told me as much. He gave the contract termination code as well.”

“Lies!” Tier Shan hissed, still advancing. “I was called not a solar hour ago and told that the contract was still unfulfilled! You swore to me it would be done—you lied! Click-click.”

“Tier Shan—” But Tragar got no further chance to explain. The huge Vash`aran launched himself into the arena, stinger out, mandibles slashing.

Tragar jumped back quickly, narrowly missing being impaled by the venom tipped barb at the end of Tier Shan’s stinger.

“Stop this!” he roared. “There’s been a mistake—listen to me!”

But Tier Shan was past listening. Watching the way his compound eyes cycled from green to gold to blue to a deep, angry red, Tragar knew his superior was in his battle rage. He would not emerge from it until his target was dead.

And Emily is his target, he thought grimly. Slowly he circled, trying to draw those burning compound eyes away from the female he loved.

At first it seemed to be working, Tier Shan moved with him, his stinger dripping venom which hissed like acid as it hit the dusty grass. Tragar drew him away, bit by bit, to the far side of the circle. He wished he could shout at Emily to run but he knew that would only draw attention to her. As it was, when he dared to glance at her, he saw she was sitting on the bench, frozen in place with her eyes a pure, burning gold.

Gods, he had to finish this quickly! If she entered Hel, the last stage of her Tenrah and there was no one to tend to her and breed her, she would die for certain. As for the High Priestess denying her access to the breeding suite, they would just see about that. Tragar was fully prepared to fight his way in if need be, although how he could hold off the Temple Guards and breed Emily at the same time he had no idea.

But there were more immediate problems at hand. Such as how to kill Tier Shan without getting killed himself.

“Listen to me,” he said, trying again to reason with the huge Vash`aran. “Two’s emissary called me. He—”

Before he could finish, Tier Shan lunged. But not at Tragar, as he had expected. His thorax twisted at the impossibly small wasp waist and his four, long, chitenous arms shot out, gripping Emily by her shoulders and hips and lifting her high above the benches.

Before anyone sitting around her could even react, Emily was high in the air, held firmly by four insectile claws which brought her closer and closer to Tier Shan’s clicking mandibles.

“The target—the true target. Click-click,” he hissed. “You are the cause of all this trouble and now you shall die!”

“No!” Tragar roared. Emily still hadn’t opened her mouth, not even to scream. But he could see her eyes, burning a brilliant steady gold and filled with terror. Her face was pale as paper and her hair had gone from blonde to deep, raven black. The shock and fear of this moment had sent her body racing right into the fourth stage of her Tenrah—she would die if she wasn’t bred soon after.

No, she’s going to die when Tier Shan bites off her head, shouted a voice in his head. Unless you save her!

Tragar darted forward, hacking and slashing with his blade but somehow Tier Shan parried his blows with his long, black stinger, all the while holding Emily high of reach.

His reflexes were incredibly quick, honed by years of practice but try as he might, Tragar couldn’t get inside the Vash`aran’s defenses. If he’d had his blaster, he could have burned a hole straight through the bastard’s striped abdomen and killed him but all he had was the ancient spiked sword and there was no time to get anything else. Not if Emily was going to live and every second that looked less and less likely.

Tier Shan was pulling her closer and closer to his gaping mandibles. Their serrated edges gleamed jaggedly in the sunlight and Tragar saw that in another moment it would be too late.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the two new Kindred males who had come looking for Emily raise their weapons—everything had happened so quickly they were just now reacting. He wished he could wait for them but he couldn’t.

There was only one way—he had to stop trying to deflect the stinger. He needed his sword for stabbing and if he kept using it to deflect the deadly barb, he’d never get an opening.

Taking a deep breath, he rushed forward, straight at the venom-tipped stinger. He felt it pierce his side just as his sword bit into the bloated, swollen abdomen. Ignoring the burning pain as the venom pumped into his body, Tragar gripped the hilt harder and ripped downward, unzipping the Vash`aran’s guts in a long, ragged line. Acidic venom gushed out at his feet, hissing like a nest of angry snakes and eating a crater in the grassy ground.

Tier Shan gave a shrill, bellowing shriek and staggered back, his four arms dropping to his sides. Emily fell from his grip, tumbling through the air to land in Tragar’s outstretched arms.

He left the sword where it was, buried in Tier Shan’s gaping abdomen, and caught her more by instinct and luck than any kind of skill. He staggered under the impact, though he managed to keep her from hitting the ground, and then set her gently on her feet.

So weak, he thought dizzily. Should be able to catch her with no problem. What’s wrong with me?

What was wrong was the deadly Vash`aran venom coursing through his blood stream. Even now he could feel his hands and feet going numb and knew it was only a matter of time before paralysis spread to his entire body. Still, he somehow managed to keep on his feet and pull Emily away from Tier Shan’s thrashing body.

The huge Vash`aran had fallen on his side and was convulsing wildly, his compound eyes bright purple with agony. Clearly he was in bad shape, his venom leaking out upon the ground. Tragar knew that the bright green liquid was also his blood—if he lost enough of it, he would never recover. And from the looks of the browned and withering grass, he was nearly bled dry. This entire arena would be too polluted to use for cycles to come—Tier Shan was no longer a threat.

“No! It cannot be! Click-click,” Tragar heard him hissing to himself. “I cannot die like this…I have never mated! I have never passed on my seed. I cannot—”

But the last word ended in a long hissing gurgle. With a final click-click of his mandibles, the enormous Vash`aran lay still.

Relieved, Tragar tried to lead Emily further from the massive, insectile corpse just in case there were any last death-shocks. But to his dismay, he didn’t even take a single step before he stumbled and fell to his knees. His feet were so numb he couldn’t feel them anymore.

“Tragar?” Emily looked at him anxiously. “Tragar, what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Couldn’t help it…only way,” he heard himself say. The dull, burning ache in his side throbbed painfully. He reached for the wound and his hand came away red and bloody.

Emily’s gaze strayed down to his blood smeared palm and her eyes, now permanently gold, went wide.

“Tragar! Oh my God—I didn’t know it got you! Help!” She looked around wildly. “Help—we need a doctor!”

Tragar was dimly aware of Daro running forward and helping hands lowering him to the ground so he could be examined. Through it all, Emily gripped his hand in hers and refused to let go.

“Tragar,” she whispered in a choked voice. “Please be all right! Please don’t leave me—I need you. I love you!”

“Love you…too, Emily.” He nearly choked, trying to get the words out. The numbness was creeping up his arms and legs now, trying to take over his body. He squeezed Emily’s hand as well as he could, though he could barely feel her small fingers entwined with his own. “Served you well, my Khalla,” he whispered, looking up at her. “I fought…for you.”

And then the numbness climbed higher and darkness ate his sight.

* * * * *

“Oh my God—Tragar! Tragar!” Emily squeezed his hand and patted his cheek but it did no good. He lay limp on the grass, just a few feet from the massive wasp-thing that had tried to kill her.

She could feel the other trying to come forward, wanting to see but she pushed her back impatiently. Not now!

“Then when?” the other demanded. “I love him too! And it is my time—I must come forward for good.”

No! Emily told her firmly. She could feel the other getting stronger, growing inside her until she felt like a pot of water coming to a boil. But Emily held her back with grim determination. If she let the other take over for good, she would never know what happened to Tragar! She had to know—had to be certain he was all right!

Emily still wasn’t sure how he had gotten hurt—she’d been high up in the air, looking down the insect thing’s gullet, certain she was going to die. All she knew was that Tragar had caught her and somehow killed his awful wasp-boss before suddenly collapsing. But at least Daro was examining him. He had peeled back the black leather vest to get a better look at the wound in the big Kindred’s side. The expression on his face was deadly serious.

“What is it? Is he all right? Tell me he’ll be okay,” Emily pleaded with him.

He looked up and sighed.

“Khalla-to-be, forgive me but this is a grave wound indeed. I fear that the enemy he fought stabbed him with its barb and injected poison.”

“Oh my God…oh no!” Emily ran her free hand through her hair, her eyes burning. “I was hoping it just, I don’t know, grazed him or something.”

“You were not in a position to see what happened,” Daro said. “But it is more than a graze. Tragar fell upon the barb of your would-be assassin in order to stab it and save you. He sacrificed himself for you, my Khalla.”

“He…he did?” Emily felt tears gather behind her burning eyes but somehow held them back. “Oh, Tragar…” She sniffed and tried to get hold of herself. “All right, so what can we do? Is there some kind of antivenom? Or do you have an EpiPen?”

Daro frowned. “Pardon me? A what, my Khalla?”

“You know—a shot of adrenaline for allergic reactions.” Emily knew all about them—one of the kids in her classroom the year before had been severely allergic to several things including bee stings. Emily had taken that damn pen with her every time the class even went outdoors to visit the bathrooms. She wished fervently that she had it now.

But Daro was shaking his head.

“This is no allergic reaction, my Khalla. See—he isn’t swollen or broken out in a rash and his breathing is not labored…yet.”

“Well, then what is it?” Emily demanded. “Tell me what it is and how we can fix it!”

“I don’t know that we can.” He shook his head. “It saddens me to say for he was an honorable male and he spared my life—I would gladly save his if I could. But it appears the venom was some kind of neurotoxin. Look—see how his arms and legs are paralyzed?” He lifted one of Tragar’s arms and let it fall. “No reflexes.”

“A neurotoxin? What does that mean?” Emily asked. Her heart felt like someone was squeezing it in a cruel fist.

Daro sighed. “It means that the venom is slowly paralyzing his entire body. It starts with the extremities and works inwards. When it reaches his heart and lungs…well…”

He didn’t finish the sentence but he didn’t have to.

“No! No, I don’t accept this—there must be something we can do!” Emily’s eyes were on fire now—in fact, her entire body felt hot. It was the other again, trying to come forward. Grimly, she pushed the other girl back. I said not now!

“I am afraid not.” Daro shook his head. “There is nothing anyone can do now but commend him to the Goddess, my Khalla.”

“Wait!” Emily had a sudden thought. “A Khalla—that’s right—I’m a Khalla! And Lit’aal told me that a Khalla’s touch was healing. That her nectar could even bring people back from death’s door!”

Daro frowned. “That is forbidden.”

“I don’t care if it’s forbidden—just tell me how to do it!” Emily demanded.

“I don’t know if you can,” he said giving her an appraising look. “Possibly if you were truly a Khalla and not just a Khalla-to-be you might accomplish it. But though you appear to have reached the fourth and final stage of your Tenrah, I do not believe your Kit’tara has come completely forward yet. Until you cross fully over that threshold, you will not come into your powers.”

Emily had a brief and bitter internal struggle. If she gave in and let the other come completely forward and take over her body forever, she would be giving up her last chance to see Tragar alive. He might live or die and she would never know. She would be wiped out of existence, as though she’d never been born.

On the other hand, she might have a chance to save him if she gave up and let the other take over. And if there was even a slim chance…

Promise me, she though hard at the other girl who was sharing her head. Promise you’ll do everything in your power to save him.

“I will,” she heard the other say. “I love him too, Emily! I swear I will save him…or die trying.”

Emily took a deep breath. It was hard…so hard to give in to her own oblivion. She didn’t want to wink out of existence. She wanted to live and love Tragar and have his babies! She wanted to grown old with the big Kindred and never be parted from him again.

But that was not to be.

Closing her eyes, she dropped the last mental barrier she’d been fighting so long to defend. All right, she sent, knowing the other could hear her. Go ahead—take over.

Chapter Thirty

Go ahead, Emily thought at the other again. Take over—I won’t try to stop you.

There was a feeling of intense gratitude from the girl who had been sharing her head for so long.

“Thank you!”

Immediately her entire body was flooded with a wave of heat as the other surged forward.

Emily waited to be obliterated…and waited…and waited. But somehow it didn’t happen. Instead, she was filled with other sensations almost too numerous to count.

Her eyes burned and her joints ached—even her hair felt like it was changing. Her breasts were suddenly achingly full and her nipples felt so sensitive even the soft gauzy white shift she was wearing under the dark red robe felt harsh and abrasive. Between her legs her sex was suddenly swollen and hot.

What’s going on with me? What’s happening? she thought wildly.

“We’re merging,” the other sent back. Only now, Emily knew her name wasn’t just “the other.” She had a true name—one Emily had never bothered to learn because she was trying so hard to hold her back.

“Emallia. I am Emallia,” she said aloud, opening her eyes which had been tightly closed this entire time.

“What?” Daro looked up from examining Tragar and his eyes went wide. “Your hair—it is so much longer! And your eyes burn like suns! Khalla, no. You must not allow yourself to enter the breeding cycle if you can help it!”

“I had to do it.” To Emily—now also Emallia—even her voice sounded different. It was stronger—more commanding. “I had to become a full Khalla and complete the Shift—it’s the only way to save Tragar.”

“But if you cannot save him then who will breed you?” Daro demanded. “You will die, my Khalla.”

“That is a chance I’m willing to take,” Emily declared. The inner strength of the other was bonded to her now—she felt ready to take on any challenge. “How much time do we have before it’s too late to save him?” she demanded.

“Five…maybe ten solar minutes?” Daro shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

“It is enough,” Emily said in her new, strong voice. “Get some help and bring him to the breeding suite—hurry!”

“I think not.” Mother Chundra was suddenly standing in front of her, glaring down with her green-on-green eyes. “I told you the breeding suite is forbidden to you!”

“But High Priestess, if the new Khalla is not allowed to enter the suite with her male, they both will surely die!” Daro protested, frowning. “We must act quickly to save them both.”

Mother Chundra smiled cruelly.

“The Khalla-to-be should have considered more carefully before she defied me. Now she and her male will both pay the price.”

Emily felt a surge of righteous fury sweep over her. She rose to her feet and saw to her surprise that she was now taller than the High Priestess. She looked down at the other woman, her eyes blazing.

“I am a Khalla-to-be no longer! This moment I am a full fledged Khalla and my name is Emallia. You will allow me and my chosen mate to pass into the breeding suite or face the wrath of the Goddess!”

For a moment, Mother Chundra looked pale and uncertain. Then she lifted her chin and glared at Emily.

“No! I am the head of the Holy Council and my word is law. You shall never enter the breeding suite. Guards!”

“I don’t think so,” a new voice said. Solar and Rone were suddenly standing on either side of the High Priestess, pointing blasters at her. The Temple Guards, who had started to approach, halted in their steps.

“One more step and the High Priestess here gets it,” Solar pushed his blaster into her back menacingly.

“You cannot mean that,” one of the guards said in a choked voice. “It is blasphemy for any Kindred male to attack a female—especially a priestess!”

“Well, I’m not Kindred—I’m Havoc,” he shot back. “And the priestess here won’t get hurt as long as she doesn’t try to stop Emily from doing what she needs to do.”

“Thank you!” Emily looked at Solar and Rone gratefully. “What I need right now is for someone to help me get Tragar into the breeding suite before it’s too late.”

“I can’t carry him that far alone,” Daro added.

“I’ll help,” Rone told him. He nodded at Solar. “Just keep your blaster on the High Priestess there until this whole business is over—one way or another.”

“With pleasure,” Solar growled. “Come on, your holiness—I think it’s time you and I took a little walk.”

To Emily’s surprise, Mother Chundra started laughing—a low evil cackle that scraped at her nerves.

“Fine,” she said, still laughing. “Take the filthy, inferior male to the Temple. But you will never find the breeding suite! It is hidden from all but the eyes of a few. Only myself or a priestess who serves the Khalla-to-be directly can see it.”

“Tell us where it is!” Solar dug the muzzle of his blaster into her back but she only cackled again.

“I’ll never tell you! And neither will anyone else.”

“I will.” Lit’aal stepped forward. Her cheeks were still stained with tears but she looked determined.

“You…” Mother Chundra’s face went dark as a thundercloud. “You wouldn’t dare! I will have you excommunicated, you ungrateful little bitch!”

“I don’t care,” Lit’aal lifted her chin defiantly. “I was planning to leave the order anyway so that Daro and I can be together.”

“A candidate must remain celibate the rest of his life if he is not chosen by a Khalla-to-be—you know that!” Mother Chundra declared. “I’ll damn you both in the eyes of the Goddess if you dare to do such a thing!”

“We cannot argue with her now,” Daro told Lit’aal who looked like she wanted to slap the High Priestess. “This whole exchange has cost too much precious time already—we have only minutes to save Tragar. Look—already his breathing is becoming labored!”

“Hurry!” Emily exclaimed. “Come on, Lit’aal, lead the way!”

“Yes, my Khalla.”

Lit’aal raced ahead of Daro and Rone who were carrying the limp Tragar between them as rapidly as they could. Solar stayed behind, keeping the High Priestess hostage. Emily could feel her glaring daggers at her back but she didn’t care. All she cared about was saving Tragar.

She just hoped it wasn’t too late.

Chapter Thirty-one

“Put him down on the bed,” Emily directed after Lit’aal opened the hidden door that led to the breeding suite. Mother Chundra had been right—they never would have found it without someone to show them. To the untrained eye, the door simply looked like part of the tall, white wall on either side of it. But once it opened, an amazing space was suddenly revealed.

The entire room was covered in small, pink blossoms. It reminded Emily a little of Saskia’a flower bed she and Tragar had slept in on the Wulven Kindred home world. But in this case it wasn’t just the bed—the lovesuckle blossoms covered every available surface. Walls, floors, ceilings, and every piece of furniture in the room were entirely overgrown with them. They varied in shade from the palest blush pink to the deepest rose red and every hue in between. They also gave off a sweet, light scent that seemed to do strange things to Emily.

As she breathed it in, she could feel her breasts aching and her pussy felt so swollen she thought she would die if she wasn’t filled soon. I need to be bred, she thought and knew it was true. If she didn’t have a male make love to her soon and spill his seed deep in her womb, she would literally perish.

But Tragar was the only male she wanted and he was unconscious—possibly dying on the flower covered bed. Could she heal him?

There was only one way to find out.

“My Khalla, is there anything else that you require?” Lit’aal asked her anxiously after they had gotten Tragar positioned.

“Just privacy,” Emily said grimly. “I need to be alone with my chosen mate.”

“Khalla, forgive me, but he is very far gone,” Daro told her gently. “If you should be unable to revive him…do you wish me to send for another of the candidates to stand outside the door just in case you are in need and Tragar cannot…er, service you?”

“No!” Emily shook her head firmly. “No, this is a do or die situation. If I can’t have Tragar, I don’t want anyone. Now everyone go—please! Every moment counts.”

“She’s right. We must leave her to her fate.” Daro nodded and led the other two out of the breeding suite.

“We will pray for you, my Khalla!” Lit’aal said. Then she shut the door and Emily was alone with the barely breathing Tragar, lying on the bed.

No—not barely breathing—he’s not breathing at all!

Emily gasped and ran to him. Her premonition was true—the broad, muscular chest no longer rose and fell. With shaking hands, she put two fingers to the side of his throat searching for a pulse, just as she’d been taught to do in CPR class.

Nothing.

“Oh God, oh no—no, you can’t be dead. You can’t! Tragar please!” She pounded on his broad chest, her eyes hot with tears. “Please, don’t be gone—please, I love you!”

Stop, whispered a familiar voice inside her head. It was the other—Emallia, Emily realized but she no longer sounded like a different entity. She was a natural part of Emily now that they had merged and Emily sensed she had something important to say.

This isn’t how to save him, Emallia told her. Remember, it is the blood or the nectar of a Khalla which may reverse death. Nothing else.

Of course! Emily looked around for something to cut herself with and came up short. There was nothing sharp in the flower-covered room. Everything was soft and covered in a blanket of the pink blossoms.

It would have to be nectar then—her breasts were certainly full enough. Quickly, she ripped open the dark red kimono-type robe she’d been wearing and pulled up the white slip to bare her breasts.

But how was she going to get the nectar out? Before, Tragar had had to suck it out of her and he was in no position to do that now. What was she going to do if her nectar still wouldn’t flow?

It will flow, whispered Emallia in her head. Get next to him, let his skin touch yours.

Trembling and praying she was right, Emily sat on the bed beside the big Kindred and leaned over him so that her bare breasts hung like ripe fruit in his face. Still nothing happened.

Please, she thought. Oh, please, Goddess if you’re really there, help me save him! He’s the man I love, the only one I want. I know you put us together so please…

She pressed one swollen nipple to his slightly parted lips…

Suddenly it was as though something released deep inside her. A droplet of amber nectar began to grow on the tip of her nipple. The drop became a trickle and the trickle became a steady flow. Slowly the rich, amber liquid filled Tragar’s mouth…and began to dribble out from the corners.

“Tragar—Tragar, please,” Emily begged him softly. “Please don’t let it be too late! Please!”

And then the big Kindred swallowed convulsively and his chest began to move again.

Emily nearly cried in relief. She filled his mouth with nectar again and again and every time he swallowed, more color returned to his cheeks and his breathing became more even and normal. His side was healing too, she saw—the awful deep stab wound was actually getting better before her eyes. Soon he looked like a man who was simply taking a nap.

“Tragar?” she whispered. “Hey, sweetheart—are you back with me now?”

The big Kindred opened his eyes and frowned.

“Where am I? Where is Tier Shan?”

“If you mean your horrible wasp-boss, he’s dead. You killed him. And nearly killed yourself in the process, saving me,” she said with mock severity.

“You’re the only thing in my life worth saving.” He reached up to stroke a strand of hair out of her eyes. “But you look different…the changes in your eyes and hair—they aren’t flickering back and forth anymore.”

“I had to let the other come forward in order to save you,” Emily explained. “I think my hair and eyes are going to stay this way now and I might have gotten taller so—uhh!” Her words ended in a groan as a sharp pain went through her lower abdomen.

“Emily?” Tragar sat up, eyeing her anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know!” She was doubled over in pain now. Her nipples were beyond sensitive and her pussy was so swollen and hot she couldn’t bear to close her legs. “I need…I need…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I need.”

“You need to be bred,” Tragar said grimly. “If your Kit’tara has come fully forward and meshed her mind with yours, you must be in the final stage of Hel and starting your breeding cycle.”

“You…you’re probably right. They said it would happen.” Somehow Emily forced herself to sit upright. She looked at Tragar imploringly. “You can help me, can’t you? Please, I need you, Tragar!”

“I swear I will give you everything you need,” he growled softly, sitting up. The white gauzy slip she had on under the open red robe had fallen down to cover her breasts and pussy again. Now he took it in both hands and ripped hard, parting it down the middle and baring her completely to his gaze.

“Oh!” Emily jumped back. Despite the desperate need inside her, the violent gesture brought back bad memories. He ripped my clothes off…he wouldn’t stop even when I begged…

Tragar seemed to understand what was going on inside her head.

“Forgive me, my Khalla.” He took both her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “I didn’t mean to startle you—that is simply the traditional way a chosen mate readies his Khalla for breeding.”

“I don’t…don’t know how I feel about it,” Emily said nervously. “I mean, I know my body needs this but I just can’t…I mean, it’s scary.”

“Of course it is.” Tragar stroked her cheek tenderly. “But you have my word that we will take things very, very slowly. I will not breed you until you are completely ready and you ask me to. All right?”

“All right. I guess.” Emily bit her lip. The memory of what Grayson had done was still there but she did her best to push it away. Tragar isn’t like that—he loves me. He’ll never hurt me, she told herself. “Well…” She took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “I suppose we should get started. And since this is all ripped up anyway…” She nodded down at the torn white slip. “I should just take it off.”

Standing for a moment, she let the ceremonial robes and the ripped slip slide off her shoulders. They fell in a heap at the side of the bed, leaving her completely naked.

“Gods, Emily…” Tragar’s golden eyes grew hot with lust. “You’re so beautiful, my Khalla. How did I ever come to deserve such beauty?”

“You loved me,” Emily whispered, reaching out to stroke his rough cheek. “And you let me love you. So please, Tragar—make love to me now.”

“Slowly,” he murmured. “I ache to sheath my cock to the hilt inside your sweet, swollen pussy and feel my mating fist swell within you. But we must take things slowly, my Khalla.”

Standing, he removed his black leather vest and unsnapped the tight black flight trousers he always wore.

Watching him, Emily thought he looked absolutely mouthwatering. There wasn’t a spare inch of flesh on him anywhere—it was all toned, tanned muscle. Before he could push down the trousers, however, something caught her eye.

“Come here,” she beckoned for him and he came to stand before her where she was seated on the edge of the bed. “Let me look at you,” Emily murmured.

“As my Khalla wishes,” Tragar rumbled, holding still so she could examine him. The deep puncture would in his side, which had been knitting together as she fed him her nectar, had now healed completely. There was only a faint, white scar left. It looked like an injury he’d gotten years ago—not minutes ago.

“Amazing,” she murmured, running her hands over his muscular flank. “I can’t believe you’re so completely healed.”

“You healed me, didn’t you? With your nectar.” He licked his lips. “I can still taste it—so sweet. You’re deep in need, aren’t you Emily?”

Biting her lip, she nodded. She hadn’t had any more of the deep, stabbing pains in her lower abdomen but she had a feeling they would come back if she didn’t start giving her body what it needed soon. Or letting Tragar give it to her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please, Tragar, I do—I need you.”

“And I will give you everything you need,” he promised. “But slowly, as I said.” He looked at her hands on his tanned side. “Would you like to remove the rest of my clothing or should I?”

“I can do it,” Emily said eagerly. She tugged at the waistband of the black flight trousers and they slid down, revealing the long, hard length of his cock. At its base, she could see the ring of flesh he’d called his “mating fist” already swelling.

God, does he really expect to fit that monster in me? she thought with dismay. There’s no way—just no way.

Tragar must have seen the look of trepidation on her face because he lifted her chin and raised her eyes to meet his.

“Don’t worry about my mating fist, Emily,” he rumbled softly. “When the time comes, your body will open for mine without pain, I swear it. But for now, just let me get you ready.”

“Maybe I want to get you ready.” Emily wrapped her fingers around the hard column of flesh, enjoying the deep groan of pleasure her action brought from his throat. But she had only stroked him once or twice before Tragar was gently prying her fingers away from his shaft.

“I do not wish to spill my seed before it is time,” he murmured when she started to protest. “When you are fully in your breeding cycle, you will need every drop of cum I can produce deep in your pussy, my Khalla.”

“I…I will?” Emily asked breathlessly.

Slowly, he nodded.

“It’s part of the breeding cycle of a Khalla. She needs the cum of her mate deep in her womb over and over again. And once my mating fist is locked inside you, tying us together, I will be able to fuck you and come in you as many times as you need me to.”

“I think I’m beginning to feel the need now,” Emily confessed in a soft voice. “I feel so…so empty inside, Tragar.”

“And I will fill you, my Khalla. But I must taste you first.” He went to sit at the head of the bead and leaned back against the flower covered headboard. “Come to me,” he murmured. “Come naked and unashamed and let me taste you.”

Emily’s heart was pounding hard with a mixture of desire and fear. But she knew the big Kindred would never hurt her and her entire body was burning for him. She craved his touch on her skin, his mouth on her swollen nipples and wet pussy, as she had never craved anything before.

She started at the foot of the bed and crawled sinuously on her hands and knees, loving the feel of his eyes on her ripe, swaying breasts. Her nectar had stopped flowing for now but she could still feel the fullness and knew there was more to give—if Tragar wanted it.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he growled hoarsely as she finally reached him and straddled his lap. “Let me look at you. So fucking gorgeous, my Khalla.”

“Thank you.” Emily blushed at the compliment. She was still getting used to her new, slightly taller body. Her breasts and hips felt fuller and her waist was smaller somehow. Her hair was long and black—so long that it tickled the small of her back when she sat up tall to let Tragar drink her in.

She never would have believed that she could be so instantly comfortable with such drastic changes to her body but it felt right somehow…felt natural. It was almost as though she’d felt incomplete her whole life and now she was whole…or she would be once she was bonded to Tragar.

“Come here,” he murmured, gripping her hips and pulling her closer.

Emily moaned breathlessly as he ducked his head to rub his rough cheeks against the tender sides of her breasts. God, she was so sensitive that everything hurt—everything but his touch, that was. She couldn’t get enough of that.

“Are you well, my Khalla?” he murmured, looking up at her. “Your breasts look full and your nipples are swollen. Do you need me to ease your fullness?”

Emily bit her lip. “You don’t mind doing it anymore? I mean, I know I had to earlier to save your life—it was the only way even though they told me it was forbidden. But now—”

“Now I am the chosen mate of a Khalla and it is my wish to ease and pleasure her in any way possible,” he growled. “I do not care any more for rules or conventions. I only want to make you feel good and ease your pain.”

“Well…they are really full,” Emily whispered, pressing forward.

“Then let me help you. I want to suck your sweet nipples, my Khalla. Want to taste your nectar again.” The look in his eyes was beyond lust and Emily moaned softly as she pressed one aching nipple to his lips.

Tragar took her in gently at first, swirling his hot tongue around the swollen bud until Emily wanted to cry with frustration. He seemed to sense her need because he suddenly sucked hard and deep, drawing her nipple as far into his mouth as he could, pulling hard against the sensitive bud.

Emily gave a little cry and buried her hands in his thick black mane. God, it felt so good—so right to let him do this. She could feel her pleasure building already but she knew it would be a long time before she came. Though having her breasts and nipples played with and sucked had given her orgasms before, this time she sensed her body needed something deeper—something more.

“I’ll give you more, my Khalla,” Tragar growled, releasing her tight peak and she realized she must have moaned her need aloud. He switched to the other nipple and sucked it deep and hard as well, easing the pressure of her nectar. Emily swore she could feel each deep pull of his hot mouth directly in her sensitive, swollen pussy.

And speaking of her pussy, it was aching now. She was so wet and hot her honey was wetting her inner thighs. The way she was straddling him, she could feel the hard shaft of his cock brushing against her outer cunt. Spread as she was, her pussy lips were wide open, her swollen little clit exposed and aching for contact with his thickness.

“Tragar,” she moaned, writhing on his lap. Pressing down against him, she rubbed hard against his shaft—only to moan and buck upwards again. God, it was too much—too intense! Though she ached for the intimate contact, she couldn’t stand it when it actually happened. Emily nearly cried with frustration—what was wrong with her?

“Emily?” Tragar had let her second nipple slip from between his lips and now he was looking up at her, concern in his golden eyes. “My Khalla, are you all right?”

“No.” Emily frowned and shifted on his lap again. She could still feel the heated length of his cock brushing her outer pussy lips but she didn’t dare come down and let him slide against her open folds again—yet that was the very place she needed him.

The big Kindred frowned.

“What is it, Emily?” he murmured, stroking her cheek. “Tell me and I’ll try to help you.”

“I want…I need…” Emily took a deep breath, feeling her face burn with an embarrassed blush. “I want to feel you—feel your cock rubbing against me. But when I tried, it was too much—too intense. But I need it so badly. Need contact with you, Tragar. I just don’t know how to get it.”

“Of course you cannot stand the feel of my shaft against you yet,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. “This is the start of your breeding cycle. Your honey is just beginning to flow and your pussy is too sensitive.”

“What can we do, then?” Emily demanded. “Because we have to do something soon—I’m burning up inside!”

“It’s all right, my Khalla,” he rumbled gently. “Don’t worry. I simply need to prime your pussy with my tongue.”

“You mean taste me? Like you did before?” She vaguely remembered how frightened and uncomfortable the idea had made her in the past. But then when he had actually licked and kissed her pussy, it had felt so good…so right. She wanted that feeling again—no, she needed it. Needed to have his tongue deep inside her and swirling around her swollen clit.

“Exactly.” The big Kindred nodded, his eyes half-lidded with lust. “But in a different position this time.”

“How do you mean?” Emily asked, uncertainly. She had already gotten off his lap and was preparing to lie down on the side of the bed so that he could taste her as he had before. But before she could, Tragar was raising her up to her hands and knees and positioning her in the center of the bed.

“Like this, my Khalla,” he murmured, urging her to spread her thighs while he knelt behind her.

“What…what are you doing?” Emily asked breathlessly, looking over her shoulder to try and see what was going on. “Why like this? From behind?”

“Breeding is an animalistic instinct,” Tragar explained in a low voice. “Some say a Khalla’s needs make her almost mindless in some ways—being taken from behind helps ease the need and satisfy her most primal cravings.”

“So you’re going to…to take me this way?” Emily asked, her heart pounding. “I thought you were just going to taste me.”

“I am.” He stroked one large, warm hand down her bare back soothingly. “We will be locked together for hours once my mating fist enters you—I’ll want to look into your eyes then. But for now, this position helps you to release some of your animalistic need. So relax, my Khalla. Raise your ass for me and spread your thighs—submit to my tongue in your pussy.”

Moaning softly, Emily did as he said, lowering her head to her arms and lifting her bottom high in the air. This position made her feel incredibly vulnerable but also incredibly hot. She did indeed feel like a female animal in heat, waiting for her mate to mount her.

“Gods, you’re a gorgeous sight,” Tragar murmured hoarsely, stroking the trembling globes of her ass. “Your ripe little cunt is so open for me, Emily. And your honey is all over your thighs. I think I want to clean you up a little first before I taste you.”

“Do…do what you want,” Emily whispered, spreading her thighs a little wider. “I’m yours, Tragar. Do what you need to do.”

“It will be my very great pleasure, my Khalla,” he growled. And then she felt his hot breath on her inner thighs and the long, slow drag of his tongue along her sensitive flesh.

Moaning breathlessly, Emily tried to hold still for him. But it was hard—so hard when all she wanted was his tongue deep inside her. Tragar took his time, licking her inner thighs in long, slow strokes without ever actually touching her pussy until she thought she was going to go crazy. Finally, though, he pulled back a little.

“Your honey is flowing freely now, my Khalla,” he murmured, stroking one fingertip over her swollen outer pussy lips. Emily shivered and moaned at his touch.

“What…what does that mean?”

“It means you’re finally ready to be tasted more fully—ready for me to lick and suck your honey from the source,” he growled. “Spread a little wider for me, Emily. Let me get my tongue in your sweet, creamy pussy.”

Moaning, she did as he asked, pressing back to meet him and spreading her thighs even wider, giving him complete access to her open pussy.

“Gods, you’re so wet and beautiful,” he muttered. Then she felt his hot, wet mouth connect with her sensitive pussy at last.

She cried out as he sucked one of her outer pussy lips into his mouth and bathed it gently with his tongue. Then he did the other—it felt incredible but when was he ever going to get to her aching clit?

“Tragar…” she begged breathlessly.

“Patience, my Khalla,” he murmured, stroking her thighs. “Priming your pussy correctly takes time. I do not wish to rush your cycle.”

“But please…I—”

Before she could finish her plea, she felt his hot tongue lapping gently but firmly over the swollen, inner folds of her pussy. Emily cried out and tilted her hips back, opening herself as wide as she could to receive his tongue into her aching center.

Tragar growled his approval and gripped her hips in his big hands. Tilting her pelvis even more, he began to give her pussy a long, leisurely tongue bath. Emily gasped as she felt the tip of his tongue start far back at the top of her slit and then slide down the length of her open cleft, dragging over the aching bud of her clit and ending at the entrance to her inner cunt.

“Gods, your honey is sweet, my Khalla,” Tragar groaned after he’d licked her several times like this. “And your little pussy is so wet and open. Are you ready to feel my tongue inside you? Pressing deep in your tight little cunt?”

“Please…” Emily pressed back against him, almost unable to form the words. “Please, Tragar, yes.”

“Then I will give you what you need, my Khalla,” he growled.

Before she could answer or beg any more, Emily felt the wet heat of his tongue again. This time he licked delicately around her entrance before pressing deep, sliding his tongue into her heated inner cunt and thrusting as though he was reaching for her heart with each stroke.

“Oh, God,” Emily moaned. She tried to hold still but she couldn’t help herself, the feeling of him inside her was too much. She found she was wiggling her hips and writhing in his grasp, unable to hold still while he tasted her as deeply as he was able.

But as wonderful as it was, Emily still wasn’t satisfied. His tongue in her felt good—felt amazing—but she still needed more. Her body was craving a deeper penetration with something much thicker and harder.

“Tragar,” she gasped, nearly crying with need. “Please—I need more.”

He pulled back at last.

“I know you do. The flavor of your honey has changed. It’s wilder now—I can taste your need.”

“Then will you…are you going to…to breed me?” Emily asked. Her heart was pounding again. As much as she needed this, she still had some reservations. Some bad memories that tried to push their way to the front of her mind.

“I’m going to try a few shallow strokes with you in this position,” Tragar told her, stroking her ass soothingly. “It’s the best way to coat your inner pussy with my precum and get you ready to make love. But I swear I won’t fill you with my mating fist until we are face to face. I want to look into your eyes as I fuck you—as I breed you, my Khalla.”

“All…all right,” Emily whispered. “Do what you think is best.”

“I’m going to go slowly.” Tragar shifted behind her and she felt the broad head of his cock slide over her aching clit and settle just at the entrance of her pussy.

“Oh…” she gasped, biting her lip.

“I’m going to keep my thrusts shallow at first—just the head to start with,” Tragar promised. “You can stop me at any time if it feels uncomfortable, Emily. Just say the word.”

“Yes, all right.” His soft, soothing words comforted her and made her feel better. She was able to push the past aside and relax a little as she felt the broad head, already slippery with precum, press gently into her pussy channel.

She gave a little gasp when she felt him enter her at last, the thick head pulsing just inside her inner cunt. Tragar held still, his hands firmly on her hips with just the tip of his cock inside her. Clearly he was letting her get used to the sensation of being partially filled.

Emily closed her eyes, imagining how she must look. Here she was on all fours with her head down and her ass high in the air, thighs spread wide to take the big Kindred’s thick cock deep in her pussy. The mental image did strange things to her insides—making her feel hot and needy—making her want more.

“Tragar, please,” she moaned, wiggling her hips. “I think…I think I’m ready to go a little further.”

“Then we will,” he growled softly. “But slowly, my Khalla. You’re very tight yet. I’ll need to coat the inside of your pussy thoroughly with my precum to make you ready to open wide enough to take me.”

“Do it, then,” Emily gasped. Now that she was used to feeling him penetrate her, it seemed like her body was going into overdrive. She wanted more of him in her—needed it. But when she tried to press back to capture more of his thick shaft in her hungry cunt, Tragar’s big hands clamped down on her hips, holding her still.

“As I said, slowly, Emily. Be still and submit to my shaft inside you. Be still and let me open you with my cock.”

“All right,” she whispered, forcing herself to hold still. And then, very slowly as he had promised, she felt the big Kindred press a little deeper so that another thick inch of his cock entered her. And then another and another until he was over halfway inside her. Then he stopped.

By now Emily’s body was in overdrive. Her new Khalla senses recognized that the big Kindred was giving her what she needed so desperately and she wanted more. She wanted it all.

“Tragar!” she moaned, wiggling impatiently.

“Be still, my Khalla,” he murmured soothingly. “Be still for a moment and let your body get used to mine. “Let my precum flow into your pussy to prepare you to take my shaft to the root and open for my mating fist.”

“Will…will it do that?” Emily gasped, turning her head to try and get a look at his face. “I mean, is that usual for a Beast Kindred?”

“To some extent, yes.” He nodded, a look of concentration on his dark features. “But especially when mating with a Khalla. My body will produce much more precum than usual to get you ready. In fact, it may feel as if I am already coming inside you. Be still for a moment and let it happen, Emily. I promise it won’t take long.”

“All right.” Biting her lip, Emily tried her best to hold still. She could feel his thickness spreading her inner walls, stretching her as his cock flexed inside her even though he wasn’t actively thrusting.

Then, something hot and wet began flowing into her. She gasped with surprise, uncertain how to feel about it—it wasn’t a harsh, jetting sensation, though. It was gentle but insistent—the feeling of Tragar pouring himself into her, of his body producing what her own body needed to be ready for him completely.

“Are you all right?” His deep voice was slightly strangled and Emily had the idea that it was difficult for him to hold still while this was happening. Doubtless he felt the need to thrust deep inside her but he was holding back until he knew she was ready.

“It…it does feel like you’re coming inside me,” she whispered as the warm, flowing sensation continued. God, shouldn’t she be filled up by now? Apparently not because the sensation continued and yet she somehow never overflowed.

“It’s only my precum,” he assured her. “It is filled with compounds that will enable you to stretch for my mating fist. Your body is drinking them in now, taking everything it needs from me to make you ready.”

Emily moaned softly but the flowing sensation deep in her pussy was actually calming and erotic at the same time. With a little sigh of satisfaction, she settled down, relaxing her head onto her arms and settled her knees a little further apart.

“It’s all right, Tragar,” she murmured, tilting her hips to give him better access to her pussy. “Do whatever you need to do. I trust you. I’m yours.”

“Gods, my Khalla.” His voice was hoarse with emotion as he stroked her bare back and ass tenderly. “I am yours as well. You’re so beautiful when you submit for me…when you open yourself so completely and let me fill your pussy.”

“I want you to fill me another way,” Emily whispered. “But I can wait—I’ll try to, anyway.”

As she finished speaking, the sensation of heated liquid flowing into her inner pussy slowed and then stopped. She moaned a little, missing the comforting feeling.

“It’s all right, Emily.” He stroked her back again. “It’s just that your body has finally gotten everything it needs from mine.”

“Not everything,” Emily objected.

He gave a deep, rumbling laugh. “No, not quite everything,” he agreed, withdrawing slowly from her. “But we can soon fix that.”

“Tragar—I feel so empty now,” she moaned as the broad head left her pussy completely.

“You won’t have to be empty for long,” he promised. Going up to the head of the bed, he positioned himself against the headboard once more. “Come to me, my Khalla. Come and ride my cock. Come and let me breed you.”

“God, yes…” Emily went to him eagerly, straddling his hips and positioning her open pussy over the broad head of his shaft. After being so filled with his precum though, she was surprised that nothing came out. Oh, she was wet—her inner folds slick with her honey—but none of the precum she’d felt flowing into her pussy leaked from her even a little. “Where is it all?” she asked looking down in confusion. “I felt it—felt so much of it going into me. Where did it go?”

“Your body absorbed my precum completely,” Tragar answered. “It was necessary to make you open enough for me. You should be aware, however, that will probably not be the case with my cum.”

“It won’t?” Emily was already gripping his long, hard shaft and positioning it under her hungry entrance eagerly. God, she needed him in her so badly.

“No.” Tragar shook his head, giving a little growl of pleasure as she stroked his shaft and then lowered herself down so that the head of his cock was kissing the inner folds of her pussy. “Due to the mating fist locking us together, you will be filled over and over as I come inside you. Your body won’t be able to absorb it all and some may escape. But since I will be coming continuously, there will be more than enough cum to flood your womb and breed you properly, my Khalla.”

“Mmmm…” His words made her feel so hot she thought she would explode. Breed me—he’s going to breed me, she thought. And she knew she needed him to do it now. “Tragar, please,” she whispered. “Please do it—please breed me long and hard and deep.”

“With pleasure, my Khalla.” His words were a low, lustful growl and his golden eyes were half-lidded with need. He rolled his hips upward and with one long, slow thrust, he seated himself to the root inside her pussy.

“Ahhh…” Emily threw back her head and moaned. It felt incredible to have him so deep inside her, to feel him filling her completely. But no, not quite completely, she realized. For his mating fist still remained outside. She needed to relax—needed to let him in.

Tragar seemed to realize this as well.

“Slowly, my Khalla,” he murmured, gripping her hips in his big hands. “Slowly now. I’m going to work my mating fist into your little pussy. Just try to relax and be open for me as you were when I filled you with my precum.”

“All right,” Emily whispered. She felt him begin to press up, getting a little deeper and felt her body beginning to stretch to accommodate him. A little quiver of fear went through her—could she really be open enough to take all of him—even the thick mating fist?

Tragar obviously sensed her fear because he reassured her in his deep, soft voice.

“It’s all right, my Khalla. It’s all right, Emily. Just relax. Relax and let your body open to mine.”

With a little moan of submission, Emily dropped her head on his broad shoulder and relaxed, doing as he said, making herself as open as she could. In the past, she would never have been able to show this level of trust to any man, not after what Grayson had done. But here and now with Tragar, the past and all her bad memories were wiped away. All she could feel was the love and tenderness radiating from the male who held her in his arms. All she knew was that she loved him completely and wanted to give herself to him in any way she could.

I trust him, she told herself. Tragar would never hurt me. I trust him.

Her perfect trust finally paid off. At last she felt the last of his mating fist slip within her. Then it began to swell, holding her in place on his cock, locking them together for the long breeding they had ahead of them.

“Oh, Tragar,” she whispered, lifting her head to look him in the eyes. “I just—oh! What was that?”

For something unexpected had just happened. As she felt herself open enough to receive him and the broad head of his cock pressed hard to the mouth of her womb, Emily felt something else—something warm and wet almost like a nubbly little tongue caressing her clit.

Tragar thrust inside her a little, making her moan as the mysterious something tickled her clit again.

“I believe you are referring to my flange. It’s an extra organ attached to the base of the mating fist that all Beast Kindred have. When my shaft is fully seated within you, as it is now, the flange comes up to cup and caress your clit in just the right way. The extra stimulation should help you come again and again.”

“Oh…” Emily bit her lip. “So every time we do this…” She lifted a few inches off his lap and sank down again with a moan. Though he never slipped out of her, the sensation of the head of his cock moving away from the end of her channel and then pressing hard against her again was immediate and intense. As was the answering pleasure in her clit. “Oh!” she gasped, unable to finish her thought.

“Every time I thrust inside you, the flange will stimulate your clit, my Khalla,” Tragar growled. “So tell me—now that we are locked together, are you ready for me to begin breeding you?”

“Yes…Tragar, please yes.” Emily wound her fingers through his long, black hair and pulled him close for a kiss. “God, you feel so good inside me. Please do it—please breed me now!”

“As my Khalla wishes,” he growled. He pulled back and then thrust deep, his thick shaft spreading her wide and piercing her to the core. Emily moaned breathlessly as she felt him bottom out inside her, giving her what her body needed so desperately—and what she wanted as well.

Unable to express her feelings any other way, she pulled him in for another hot kiss which seemed to go on and on as he moved within her. As his thick shaft filled her and the naughty little tongue covering her clit stroked over her sensitive bud, Emily felt the elusive pleasure building inside her.

“Tragar,” she gasped, breaking the kiss. “Tragar please, faster…more. I’m close…so close.”

“As my Khalla wishes,” he growled again. Gripping her hips firmly, he picked up his tempo, thrusting deeply into her and filling her completely with each hard surge of his cock in her pussy. As he did, he ducked his head and captured one of her nipples in his hot mouth. Pulling hard at the sensitive tip, he rolled his hips upward, fucking into her, breeding her exactly as she needed to be bred.

Emily gave a low moan as she felt the pleasure inside her grow to a peak. The feel of his thick shaft inside her and the delicate flange caressing her clit with each stroke was amazing. But when Tragar added the sensation of his hot mouth on her bare breasts, it was simply too much.

She felt her orgasm break over her like a warm, overwhelming wave. Her inner muscles spasmed hard around the thick, invading shaft and then she was coming, coming harder than she ever had before, giving herself completely to the pleasure of her man breeding her.

Tragar gave a low groan and pressed hard inside her. Then Emily felt a hard, hot, pulsing sensation coming from the head of his cock. For a moment she was confused and then she realized what it must be.

Coming, he’s coming inside me! she thought, half delirious with pleasure.

“Yes, my Khalla, I am filling you with my cum, just as I promised,” Tragar’s deep voice answered. But somehow this time she heard him inside her head.

“Tragar?” she gasped uncertainly. He couldn’t have spoken—his mouth was still busy sucking her tender nipples as he filled her up.

“Don’t fear, Emily—it’s just the bond forming between us. We’ll always be together now—never apart,” he promised. “You’ll hear me and I’ll hear you.”

“Like…like this?” she sent tentatively, across their new link.

“Yes, my Khalla—just like this.” And then he crushed her to him and she felt him pouring into her even more—hot jets of his cum bathing the mouth of her womb as he claimed her and bred her, tying them together forever in a love that would never end.

Chapter Thirty-two

Tragar didn’t know how long their lovemaking lasted. For normal Beast Kindred the time usually ran into the hours. But since his lover and mate was a Khalla, it seemed to go even longer. They both lost track of time in the flower filled room as they explored each other’s bodies, making love and breeding over and over until their bond was complete and Emily’s body had been given everything it needed.

“Mmm, that was amazing,” she murmured when he finally pulled out of her and they both collapsed on the lovesuckle covered bed.

“More than amazing,” Tragar sent through their new bond. Having the deep connection to her felt like an incredible gift. After he’d lost his beloved Landra, he had been left with an empty, aching socket. A ragged hole in his soul that he’d thought would never heal. Now he felt whole again and not just whole—full to overflowing with the love he felt coming from his beautiful Khalla.

“I’m glad you feel whole again,” she sent through their link. Hopping up, she went to a viewer in the corner he hadn’t noticed earlier and started examining her new appearance. “But do you really think I’m beautiful? I mean…I’ve changed so much.”

“And yet…not nearly as much as you feared. Come back to bed.”

Emily came back and sat beside him. “I know such a drastic change should feel wrong and upset me but I feel really calm about it. Like I was always meant to look like this.”

“You were.” He stroked her cheek lovingly. “Having your Kit’tara come forward was not as bad as you thought then?”

“No—not at all. She’s…part of me. I thought she would take over completely and blot me out of existence,” Emily admitted.

“I told you that would not happen.”

“Yes, but it was so scary—having someone else inside me. Someone I didn’t really know. Now I understand she was part of me all along. Her name is Emallia, by the way.” She smiled at him. “Or maybe I should say, my name is Emallia,” she added aloud.

“No matter what name you go by, you are my beloved Khalla and I will serve you and love you all the days of my life,” Tragar vowed hoarsely. “Though I still do not see how I can ever hope to deserve you.”

Emily frowned. “Are you kidding me? You saved my life from that awful wasp-thing that was your boss!” She bit her lip. “Hey, how is that going to affect your job? I mean, in most places killing your boss…well, at the very least it would be a firing offense but is it different in the Verrak? I mean, do you take his place or something instead?”

“Actually by killing Tier Shan, I have nullified the contract that was placed on your head and won my freedom from the Verrak.”

“Did you really?” Emily’s eyes widened, glimmering a deep, lovely gold.

“Indeed. See for yourself.” He held out his arm and let her examine it.

“Oh! Your tattoo—it’s gone!”

It was true. All traces of the intricate tracery he had been marked with on his induction to the Verrak had faded completely. From wrist to shoulder, his arm was clean—his narsh was gone.

“Yes.” Tragar nodded with satisfaction. “It is.”

Emily looked at him uncertainly.

“How do you feel about that? Did you want to quit? I mean, this is kind of sudden, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he acknowledged. “But I would say it comes at the perfect time. After all, I cannot be taking life for my livelihood now that I am bonded to a Khalla.” To his surprise, he felt a surge of worry coming from Emily. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Surely you didn’t want to be joined to a member of the Verrak?”

“Well…no. Not exactly.” She frowned. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to give up your whole career for me, either. I mean, that kind of sacrifice can be hard on a relationship and we’re just getting started here.”

“Emily…Khalla…” He took one of her small, shapely hands in his. “Don’t you understand? I joined the Verrak because I was seeking death. You have given me something to live for. That time is behind me now. From now on, I intend to live only for my future with you.”

“Oh, Tragar…” Tears glimmered in her eyes and she snuggled up to him, pressing her cheek to his chest. “You gave me something to live for too. I was just marking time until I met you—just going through the motions. But…you’re really sure you don’t mind giving up your job?”

He frowned. “Of course not—besides, I have a new job—taking care of you. In addition to being your chosen mate, I will head up your security detail.”

“My security detail? What are you talking about?”

“Well…” Tragar stroked her hair. “I don’t wish to alarm you but Khallas are very public figures here on Rageron. And even though the contract on your head has been nullified, I don’t like the fact that the representative of the Dark Kindred who placed it in the first place called me and lied about removing it.”

“He did?” Emily sat up and put a hand to her chest.

“He did.” Tragar nodded gravely. “And then apparently he called Tier Shan and complained that the contract had not been fulfilled yet. That was what prompted him to come after us in the first place.”

“I wondered what he was shouting about!” Emily shivered. “So you think this Dark Kindred guy is still after me?”

“If he is, he’ll be sorry,” Tragar said grimly. “I told you, I am not leaving your side from now on.”

“Well, that makes me feel a lot safer.” She snuggled up to him again. “Of course, I’d feel even better if I knew why he was after me in the first place.”

“I don’t know either,” Tragar admitted. “I think—” But just at that moment, he got the feeling that someone he didn’t know wanted to speak to him urgently. He frowned. “Wait a moment—I think someone is trying to bespeak me.”

“Bespeak? What’s that?”

“Someone is using a Think-me device to try and send me a mental message.” Tragar shook his head. “It’s considered extremely rude to bespeak someone you don’t know intimately. Normally I would refuse to take the call but in light of everything that has happened lately…”

“You’d better take it,” Emily said anxiously. “Go ahead—I don’t mind.”

Tragar took a deep breath and opened his mind. While mental communication with one’s bonded mate was natural and easy, bespeaking and being bespoken, especially by someone one didn’t know, could be arduous and mentally taxing.

“Who is it?” he sent, acknowledging the nagging feeling inside his brain. “And what do you want?”

“It’s Rone—the Wulven Kindred tracker who came seeking Emily. Forgive me, Brother, I know this is your first bonding sex with your Khalla but it has been nearly twenty-four solar hours and, well, we wanted to make sure you were both all right.”

“We’re fine,” Emily sent back, joining in the session of mental-communication without hesitation. “Tragar and I are, uh, finished. We were just sitting here talking, trying to figure out about the price on my head. But has it really been twenty-four hours? No wonder I’m so hungry!”

“We have both food and answers for you, Khalla, if you wish to come and join us.”

“Yeah, come on out, girlfriend.” It was Kate, Rone’s human mate this time. “They have some kind of little pastry here like a cross between a Hostess pie and a cupcake that’s to die for. And don’t worry about the High Priestess—she’s agreed to leave the two of you alone.”

“I don’t know that I trust her word,” Tragar growled. “What of the Temple Guards?”

“Many of them have quit their posts,” Rone answered. “I think they were shocked that the High Priestess was willing to allow a genuine Khalla die simply because she had disobeyed her word.”

“And there weren’t that many to begin with,” Kate added. “So we can take care of them easily enough if they get decide to get frisky.”

“Enough of this four-way conversation.” Tragar put a hand to his head. “I find it very taxing.”

“We’ll come out to you right away,” Emily sent. “Just let us get dressed. And save me one of those pie-cake things. I’m starving!”

Kate laughed. “Will do.”

* * * * *

“Mmm, you weren’t kidding—these things are amazing.” Emily reached for a second pie-cake as she and Kate were calling them and took a big bite. It had flaky crust, followed by a gooey layer of fruit, then a cakey interior with a kind of creamy custard filling at the center. The combination shouldn’t have worked but it so did. After all the strenuous sex and not having had anything decent to eat since Saskia’s delicious stew, Emily was starving.

She and Tragar and Kate and Rone were sitting around a table in a large communal dining area Emily hadn’t even known was there. The chefs had prepared a veritable banquet of snacks in honor of their new Khalla’s Becoming. Saber and his mate, Kaylee, had gone back to their shuttle to contact the Kindred Mother Ship and let them know that Emily had been found and everything was all right.

Kate grinned and took a bite of her own pastry.

“Better than the Feast of Becoming? Rone told me all about that—he said it was full of special delicacies meant only for Khallas-to-be.”

“The Feast of Becoming?” Emily shivered. “Ugh, you have no idea how awful that was! They served me eyeball soup and macaroni and worms with ground up chocolate heart pudding for dessert!”

“Seriously?” Kate made a face. “That’s disgusting!”

“You should have tasted it,” Emily said. “I would have asked for this stuff instead if I’d only known what to call it.”

“I’m pretty sure this is the Holy Mountains version of junk food,” Kate said, laughing.

She had a soft, lilting laugh that Emily really liked. In fact, she felt like she’d found an instant friend. Maybe it was just that Kate was the first person from Earth she’d seen in ages but she didn’t think so. Kate seemed like what her sister Anna called “a kindred spirit.” Emily felt like she’d known her forever.

“Yeah, I’m sure it is junk food. Nothing that tastes this good can possibly be good for you,” she said, waving her half eaten pie-cake in the air. “And it’s probably going straight to my hips and ass but I’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

“I don’t think you do have to worry about it,” Kate said thoughtfully. “I mean, you’re Kindred, right? Fully Khalla and all that. And if you’re like any of the other Kindred I’ve seen, you’ve probably got a pretty great metabolism going. You might be able to eat anything you want from here on out.”

“You think so?” Emily was stunned. “Oh my God, I hope you’re right! I know I’ve uh, changed a lot but I never thought that would be one of the side effects.” She’d been in and out of Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig and every other weight loss program her whole life. The thought of that endless struggle being finally behind her was positively exhilarating.

“I’ll say you’ve changed,” Kate remarked. “You don’t look a thing like the way Thrace envisioned you.”

Tragar frowned. “Thrace? Who is this Thrace? And why is he having visions of my mate?”

“He’s the Havoc that Two, the Dark Kindred who wanted Emily killed, showed his vision to,” Rone clarified.

“What? He knows the bastard who put a contract on my female’s life?” Tragar was positively scowling now. “How does he dare to—?”

“Simmer down, big boy,” Kate said. “Thrace is a good guy—he was really worried about Emily. Worried enough to let me go digging around in his head even though he really didn’t want to.”

“Also, he’s happily bonded to a female named Trin who has Earth DNA,” Rone put in. “So he has absolutely no interest in Emily other than her wellbeing.”

“Well…” Tragar subsided, his scowl fading a bit. “All right. But what is this vision you spoke of? Is that what caused Two to put a contract on Emily’s head in the first place?”

“Yes, it is.” Kate nodded. “According to Thrace, Two had a being called a Lud’om do a Seeing for him. In it, he saw that Thrace and Trin were going to have a child that would be the father of a new race of Kindred with Havoc and human DNA mixed in. They’ll be stronger, longer lived, and even more closely bonded to their females than any other race of Kindred.”

“So?” Emily shook her head, confused. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Well, you are going to bear the mother of this race,” Rone said mildly. “You and Tragar, apparently.”

“But…” Emily’s heart leapt. “But I thought that Khallas couldn’t have children. That was what Lit’aal and Turra told me anyway.”

Kate shrugged. “I don’t know about that but I do know that Lud’oms never have a false vision. Anyway, Two believed him—enough that he wanted to wipe you out before the new race of Kindred could even get started.”

“But why would he want such a thing?” Emily objected. “I mean, didn’t you say he’s Kindred himself?”

“Dark Kindred,” Rone corrected. “They had a whole other society ruled by a bunch of thinking machines called The Collective. I believe some of the Kindred from the Mother Ship had a hand in destroying them and freeing Z4, the Dark Kindred world, from their iron rule.”

“Well it sounds like they did the Dark Kindred a favor, then,” Emily protested. “What is Two so mad about?”

“I think he was pretty high up in the Dark Kindred society—maybe even directly linked to the Collective itself,” Rone said. “He must have felt that the Kindred ruined his home world and his race and he wanted to bring them down in retaliation. What better way than by ruining their future before it even got started?”

“Wow…” Emily shook her head. “That’s so…Terminator.”

Kate snickered. “Yeah, but Sarah Connor ran away from her terminator—you got bonded to yours.”

Emily laughed. “You’re right. Except Tragar isn’t a soulless robot bent on my destruction.”

“I was at first, you know,” Tragar said seriously. “Thank the Goddess I took time to study you and didn’t just take that bastard Two’s word that you were dangerous and worthy of termination.”

“If he hadn’t sent you after me, I’d be dead now,” Emily reminded him. “Either another assassin would have killed me or I would have gone through my Tenrah with no one to help me and died that way.”

“How did a Khalla wind up down on Earth, anyway?” Kate asked. “Rone tells me they’re extremely rare, even here on Rageron.”

“They are. And we have no idea how Emily got to your home world,” Tragar said.

“I do know I was adopted,” Emily put in. “But I don’t know who my birth parents are. My adopted mom told me I was orphaned when I was just a baby and that’s how they got me.”

“However you got to Earth, you were nearly killed there by Two’s orders,” Tragar growled. He curled one big hand into a fist. “I wish I could find him and make him pay.”

“I’d feel a lot better if he wasn’t still wandering around the universe too,” Emily admitted quietly. “But I know you can take care of me, sweetheart.” She smiled at him.

“Oh, Two is long gone now,” Kate said, patting Emily’s hand soothingly. “Dead weeks ago—so you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Commander Sylvan—the new Kindred High Chancellor—told me he personally saw his body.”

“He’s not dead,” Tragar said flatly. “Or if he is, his evil intensions live on. I received a call from one claiming to be his representative. He had all of Two’s codes and claimed he was acting on his direct orders. That was only a day ago.”

“Crap,” Kate muttered and Rone frowned.

“That’s disturbing. I’ll need to let Commander Sylvan know at once. In the mean time, I would keep a close watch on Emily.”

“Don’t worry.” Tragar put an arm around her shoulders protectively. “I won’t let her out of my site.”

“Even with you right beside her, it might not be safe,” Rone cautioned. “Don’t let her start her duties as Khalla until this matter is resolved.”

“Speaking of that, is it really set in stone that I have to go touring all around like some kind of rock star?” Emily put in. “I mean, even though I’ve changed a lot that really isn’t the kind of life I want for myself. I didn’t ask to be a Khalla—I just want to go back to my old life as a kindergarten teacher.”

“My Khalla,” Tragar said gently. “I don’t want to ruin your dreams but you look completely different from the female I stole away from Earth. Not just your hair and eyes—you’re taller as well. Considerably taller.”

“I’d put you at close to six foot,” Kate said, looking up at her appraisingly. “Normal for a Kindred—not so much for Earth unless you’re a Swedish supermodel.”

“Okay, so teaching may be out but I still have to talk to my family,” Emily said stubbornly. “I know I can convince my sister Anna of who I am and she can help me talk to our mom and dad. I can’t just let them think I was abducted and killed somewhere. That’s cruel.”

“We will go back to Earth to speak to your family,” Tragar promised, squeezing her comfortingly. “But we cannot go just yet. There is the fifteen day feast to get through in preparation for our joining ceremony.”

“What? Fifteen days?” To Emily it sounded like an eternity. She loved Tragar and she was very happy with the way things had turned out but she was homesick, damn it! And she didn’t want her family to have one more day of worry or one more sleepless night wondering what had happened to her.

“It’s tradition,” Tragar said firmly.

“Well, it’s a stupid tradition,” Emily snapped. “I don’t see why we have to wait fifteen days to get bonded or married or whatever it is! They were eager enough to marry me off to Daro before and I barely even knew him!”

“That was because you needed a chosen mate badly—you were about to enter the fourth stage of your Tenrah,” Tragar explained patiently. “But tradition states that in order to show reverence to the Goddess, a Khalla who has already bonded to a male must serve a fifteen day period of waiting in the Temple before her joining ceremony. Besides…” He frowned at her uncertainly. “Don’t you want to have a joining ceremony with me? It was my understanding that most females enjoy such things.”

Kate took Emily’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“It’s not that she doesn’t want a big wedding—she’s just missing her family. They’re probably worried sick right about now and she doesn’t want them to be in any more pain wondering what happened to her.”

Emily shot her new friend a grateful look.

“Thanks, Kate. You’re right—that’s it exactly.”

“Please don’t worry about your family, Khalla,” Rone said formally. “We’ll send a message to the Mother Ship asking them to contact your parents and sister at once. We’ll let them know you’ve been found and you’re well and happy.”

“Well…” Emily sighed. “I guess that will be okay. Thank you, Rone.” She looked at Kate hopefully. “And will you guys stay for the ceremony? I know I haven’t known you long but well…I kind of feel like I have. Like we’ve always been friends.” She blushed a little at the embarrassing admission but Kate just laughed.

“We did have kind of an instant connection, didn’t we? That happens sometimes with someone like me.”

“Kate has the Knowing,” Rone put in and Emily could hear the note of pride in his voice. “She has an affinity for people who are a little…different.”

Tragar raised an eyebrow. “Such as a Wulven Kindred like yourself? Tell me, if you don’t mind speaking of it, how long did it take her to tame your Beast? And weren’t you worried that you might hurt her during your first bonding? I know that Wulven can get a bit…wild in their fur-forms.”

“It wasn’t necessary for me to claim Kate in my fur-form,” Rone said, a bit stiffly, Emily thought. “Because of her gift she was able to get acquainted with my Beast without ever seeing me as a Changed one.”

“Really?” Both Tragar’s eyebrows went up now. “I didn’t even know that was possible. Does that not result in an incomplete bond?”

“Our bond is just fine,” Kate said calmly. “I got to know Rone’s Beast without ever having to meet him in person—he likes me a lot.”

Tragar frowned. “But I thought the Beast of a Wulven kind had to be fully tamed by the female he intended to mate—if you’ve never even met him face-to-face how—”

“A-hem.” Emily cleared her throat loudly. She didn’t know exactly what they were talking about but it seemed to be a sensitive topic. Time to change the subject. “So is that a yes? You’ll stay for my wedding…er, joining ceremony?”

Kate shot a glance at her man and Emily could tell they were having a private conversation through their link. Then the diminutive girl smiled and nodded.

“No problem. We can send Saber and Kaylee back to the Mother Ship and we’ll stay here with our ship in orbit around Rageron. Then we can take you back to Earth ourselves. How does that sound?”

“It sounds wonderful.” Impulsively, Emily leaned over the table to give her new friend a hug. “Thank you so much,” she whispered into Kate’s riot of red and gold curls. “If I can’t have my sister here, I’m glad I have you.”

“Well, you have to have somebody to talk wedding stuff with,” Kate said, returning the hug.

“I suppose I could ask Lit’aal to help too,” Emily said thoughtfully, sitting back. “But I have an idea she and Daro are going to be pretty busy planning their own joining ceremony.”

“Oh yeah, those two are thick as thieves.” Kate giggled. “You should see them…sneaking around and making eyes at each other. I think they’re still afraid to let everyone know how they feel because of that awful old Mother Chundra.”

“I know—she goes out and hand-picks the candidates for the Khallas-to-be but then if they don’t get chosen, she expects them to live a celibate life and never be with anyone ever again,” Emily exclaimed. “It’s completely unreasonable.”

“So I gathered from the way Daro and Lit’aal have been mooning over each other,” Kate said dryly. “That really is a ridiculous rule, though. Why shouldn’t he find somebody else if he doesn’t get picked by a Khalla?”

“It’s not a direct ruling of the Goddess, I don’t think,” Rone remarked. “As for as I can see it is a tradition which has been in place for as long as Mother Chundra has been in power here at the Temple—which is nearly a hundred solar years.”

“Wow—she’s older than she looks,” Emily remarked.

“Speaking of the High Priestess, how is she taking all of this?” Tragar asked, frowning.

Rone shrugged. “As well as can be expected, I guess. She’s agreed not to interfere with the two of you but she point blank refuses to perform your joining ceremony.”

“Good!” Emily exclaimed. “I want someone I like to officiate. And someone who likes me.” She looked thoughtful. “Actually, Lit’aal is a priestess—maybe we can have her do it.”

“Great idea.” Kate smiled. “And then maybe you can use your influence as a bonded Khalla to make sure she gets to be with Daro. Maybe formally release him as your chosen mate and say that you’ve found another and you want him to find someone too.”

“What a good idea!” Emily exclaimed.

“Oh, I’m full of ‘em.” Kate picked up another of the pie-cakes. “Right now my main idea is to eat another one of these little things although it’s probably going straight to my hips.”

“I like your hips,” Rone murmured, giving her a hot glance.

“All right now.” Kate made a shooing motion though Emily could tell she was pleased with her mate’s flirting. “You’re acting like we’re the newly bonded people at the table. Emily and Tragar are the ones that ought to be eyeing each other’s hips…along with other things.”

“I certainly agree with you there,” Tragar murmured, his eyes half-lidded as he looked at Emily. “Have you had enough to eat, my Khalla? Perhaps you find yourself hungry for other things now?”

The look in his golden eyes made Emily’s heart race. Suddenly her breasts felt full and her nipples ached. Between her legs, her pussy was swollen and hot.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am hungry,” she purred.

Kate laughed and shook a finger at her mate.

“See what you started?”

Rone gave her a lazy grin.

“As though a Khalla and her newly bonded mate need any encouragement.”

“We certainly don’t,” Tragar said. “Do we, my Khalla?”

Before Emily could answer him, he stood and swept her into his arms in one swift motion.

“Mmm, Tragar!” she protested halfheartedly. “You’re so bad—where are you taking me?”

“Back to the breeding suite,” he growled softly. “I’m hungry, my Khalla and you are what I hunger for.”

Emily nuzzled her face into his throat, breathing in his dark, spicy bonding scent. Her entire body throbbed with desire and she knew she needed to be with her man again…feeling him fill her and fuck her and breed her for hours, renewing and strengthening their new bond all over again.

As Tragar carried her off, she heard Kate laughing.

“Okay then,” her new friend called. “We’ll see you guys in a day or two.”

Emily couldn’t answer—she was too busy kissing Tragar’s throat. But she didn’t think Kate would mind…

* * * * *

“Well?” Y demanded. “You saw how it went. The second Verrak assassin is dead and the Khalla is securely bonded to her mate and extremely well protected. There is no way to get to her now—your plan failed, Master Two.”

“Fool!” his Master raged inside his head. “You know nothing! Did I not tell you I have plans within plans?”

“And what is the plan now?” Y asked blandly.

“If you would ever stop your yammering for a moment and let me think—ahhh!” The Master snickered evilly. “Wait—I have it now. It is not too late—not too late at all! There is still a way to separate them and be certain they will never be together again.”

“How?” Y tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice but didn’t quite manage it. He might not know much of the universe but so far it seemed to him that every plan his master had made had been a dismal failure.

“We need a little help from the old witch—”

“Her again?” Y protested. “You saw what happened last time. She cast her spell—we even watched her feed the Khalla female’s hair into the fire—but still she refused to drink the Black Milk.”

“She did warn us that a Khalla’s mind is unpredictable and strong,” Two reminded him. “Besides, she is only part of my plan. We will also need some inside assistance—one of the disgruntled priestesses should do nicely.”

“But how will you contact them?” Y asked. “And what will you do once you have?”

“We will also need several pieces of equipment that I believe are available only on the defunct Scourge Father Ship,” the Master said, ignoring his question.

“I thought the Kindred had destroyed it when they killed the AllFather,” Y objected. He had been learning as much as he could about the Kindred race in his downtime lately, since they were his Master’s enemies.

Master Two made a noise of negation. “Wrong. They towed it out into deep orbit around the Earth’s moon. We have plenty of time to get there if we use the correct wormhole—fifteen solar days to be exact.”

Y shook his head. “I still do not understand.”

“Of course you don’t. But you will, my dear Y. Oh, you will…”

Chapter Thirty-three

Emily’s heart was thumping in her chest as she stepped into the Sacred Grove exactly fifteen days later. But this time, instead of pounding with dread, it was beating in a quick, light, joyful rhythm. Going to be married today! she thought and heard Emallia echo the joyous emotion.

Emallia rarely spoke up anymore—she really didn’t have to since she and Emily were one person now. But occasionally Emily could feel her thoughts and emotions, always in perfect sync with her own. It should have felt strange and wrong but it didn’t. Just like her bonding with Tragar and her new outwards appearance, it was natural and right in every way—just part of being a Khalla, she supposed.

Looking down the wide aisle between the green and purple trees, Emily couldn’t help contrasting this ceremony to her other joining ceremony—the one where she had almost been forced to join with Daro.

Emily was wearing the same dark red robes with gold embroidery and Daro was still there, at the end of the aisle as he had been before. But this time he was standing to Tragar’s left as his best man. He was smiling but it was clear he only had eyes for Lit’aal, who was standing at the end of the aisle looking extremely nervous about officiating. That might have something to do with Mother Chundra, who was standing behind her glaring daggers at her back.

The High Priestess still wasn’t happy at not getting her way and she hadn’t been shy about letting Emily know it. Frankly, Emily wished she hadn’t had to invite the awful old woman at all, but it really couldn’t be avoided, considering they were having the joining ceremony in the Temple where she was still the head honcho. Emily comforted herself that at least Turra wasn’t there. She really didn’t need two mean priestesses scowling at her while she was trying to get married.

Rone was standing to the right of Daro, serving as a second groomsman and also keeping an eye on the High Priestess and the other two members of the Holy Council who were standing on either side of her. Kate, acting as Emily’s maid of honor, was walking behind Emily, as was the tradition here.

At the very end of the aisle, behind the nervous Lit’aal and the angry Mother Chundra, was the huge statue of the Goddess. Emily couldn’t help wondering as she paced slowly down the grass lined pathway in her bare feet, what the Mother of All Life would think of all this—if she was really real, that was. Of course, she had prayed to the Kindred deity when she was trying to save Tragar’s life but she’d been desperate. At that point she would have prayed to anyone.

“Mother…” Emallia whispered and Emily felt her joy and reverence as she gazed at the huge statue with its stern but kindly face carved in the purest white marble. Perhaps there was something to the Goddess after all—her Kit’tara certainly seemed to think so. The Mother of All Life…a goddess who watched over her children and loved them and cared for them always. It was a beautiful idea, even if it was just theology.

The priestesses of the Temple were lined up along the aisle between the green and purple trees, just as they had been before and as Emily paced towards the waiting Tragar, she heard their happy and admiring murmurs. Most of them had turned out to be really nice as she got to know them. They, like everyone else here, were simply pawns—forced to follow Mother Chundra’s unreasonable demands. Emily heard from Lit’aal that she was a kind of hero to them now—she had stood up to the High Priestess and gotten away with it. They were in awe of her and not just because she was a Khalla.

She reached the end of the aisle and turned to face Tragar. He was wearing a deep red shirt and his black leather trousers and boots and his long hair was pulled back to the nape of his neck. He had a serious expression on his face but there was joy in his golden eyes. A joy so great it spilled over into their link and made her heart sing when she looked at him.

“My Khalla,” she heard him think. “So beautiful…how did I ever become so fortunate as to win you? The Goddess grant that I may be worthy of your love and forgive me for turning my back on her so many years ago.”

“I’m sure she would if she heard you,” Emily sent back, smiling. “And I’m lucky to have you too, you know! I’m the luckiest girl I know. But now we have to concentrate—I think the ceremony is about to begin!”

“Dear ones, warriors and maidens, sons and daughters of the Goddess,” Lit’aal began in a shaking voice. “We are gathered here in the sight of the Mother of All life to join this male and this female together in a most sacred bond forged by love. We—”

“Stop!” Mother Chundra’s voice rang out as she stepped forward, pointing a finger at Emily and Tragar. “Stop—this ceremony cannot go on.”

“What?” Tragar growled. “What is the problem?”

“The problem is that this joining ceremony is not legal.” Mother Chundra raised her chin and looked down her nose at them.

“How is it not legal?” Emily demanded. “I don’t want to be a bridezilla here but you’re ruining my day!”

“The Right of Conflict which this male demanded, was never met.” Mother Chundra sniffed and motioned at Tragar. “He asked for the right to fight for your hand—”

“Which I did,” Tragar gritted out.

“Ah—but you refused to kill your opponent and there he stands.” She pointed at Daro who was looking worriedly at Lit’aal. “No blood was spilled.”

“No blood was spilled?” Emily couldn’t believe the garbage she was hearing. “Um, did you not notice the huge wasp-thing that Tragar killed to save me? Its blood ate a huge crater in the arena ground.”

“The intruder Tragar killed was not the one he challenged,” Mother Chundra insisted. “Therefore, I must call a halt to this joining ceremony and demand that the inferior male, Tragar, leave the Temple at once. The new Khalla shall remain here until she can be sent out on assignment to the people of Rageron who need her healing touch.”

“How dare you suggest such a thing?” Tragar’s voice was a low roar. “I will never leave my Khalla—we are bonded.”

“Too closely bonded to be certain—probably a result of you drinking her nectar.” Mother Chundra made a disgusted face. “Nevertheless, in a solar year or so the bond should fade a bit. Enough for her to have control of herself as she visits the people.”

“Enough for you to control me, you mean,” Emily snapped. “I don’t even know how you have the nerve to suggest such a thing! What makes you think we’d do anything you say?”

The High Priestess gave her a smile that was inordinately smug.

“Maybe the little fact that I have a whole new retinue of Temple Guards waiting to do my bidding.”

The groves of green and purple trees on either side of them rustled and before Emily could even scream, two burly guards were gripping her by either elbow. Many more suddenly appeared all around them, grabbing everyone in the wedding party, including poor Lit’aal who was shaking with fear.

“You dare! Take your hands off my mate!” Tragar had already shaken his guards off. Suddenly, a long, deadly blade appeared in his hand. Emily wondered where in the world he had hidden it in those tight trousers he was wearing. Wherever it had been, he was gripping it tightly now and there were already two guards down. There was going to be a bloodbath in a minute if somebody didn’t do something…

“Stop!”

The voice was deep and commanding but still feminine. It seemed to ring through the Sacred Grove, freezing Emily’s blood in her veins. For a moment, she couldn’t understand where it might be coming from but then the voice spoke again and she realized it was coming from over her head.

“How dare you attempt to separate one of my beloved Khallas from her chosen mate?” the voice demanded.

Emily looked up. With a gasp, she saw that the twenty-foot tall statue of the Goddess had come to life. The formerly kind and gracious face was animated now, frowning down at the gasping High Priestess with a look of grim disapproval.

“I…” Mother Chundra had realized at the same time as Emily that the statue was the one speaking. “G-goddess?” she stuttered, apparently momentarily at a loss for words.

“And this Khalla especially—my own daughter.” The Goddess statue held out a hand to Emily, the white marble features softening somewhat. “My darling Emallia. I took mortal form to bear you but I had to leave you to be raised by others. I chose to put you on Earth because I needed you to understand the thoughts and ways of the humans—they are a vital part of the new race of Kindred that will be.”

“They…they are?” Emily’s throat felt tight. She was still trying to process all this and it wasn’t easy.

The statue of the Goddess nodded.

“I needed you to live a mortal life, my darling. I have always watched over you—it was I who sent Tragar to your aid when your Tenrah came due the second time.”

“So you…you’re my mother? My actual mother?” Emily gasped. Inside her she could feel Emallia’s joy. “Mother—our mother!” she whispered eagerly.

“I am.” The Goddess statue nodded. “I know you have been through some difficult trials in your life, Emallia, as has the male I picked for you.” The vast marble face looked sad. “I cannot always protect everyone from pain—even those I love. For it is ultimately the trials in our lives that shape and mold us into who we are.”

“Goddess!” Tragar murmured hoarsely. “Forgive me for turning my back on you and disavowing you. I was angry…hurt.”

“Of course you were, warrior,” the Goddess said gently. “All is forgiven. I know how great your loss was—it was enough to shake the faith of even the most devout. I have tried to make up for your past sorrow by giving you my most precious daughter to love and care for. She will bear you many children, including the mother of the new Kindred race.”

“I will cherish and protect her always.” Tragar bowed his head reverently. “In fact, I was trying to pledge myself to her just now. Unfortunately, our joining ceremony was interrupted.” He shot a hard look at Mother Chundra who was still standing there in apparent awe, staring up at the Goddess statue that had come to life.

“Indeed.” The statue turned her gaze on Mother Chundra as well. “Priestess, you have much to answer for. In the hundred solar years since you have taken over this temple, you have inflicted pain and suffering upon many of my Khallas. You have separated them from their true chosen mates and denied them even the right to bond fully with the ones you gave in their place.”

“I did it only for their own good!” protested Mother Chundra. “That they might spread the light of the Temple all over Rageron without distractions.”

“You mean so that they could spread your own personal influence, making you the most powerful female on Rageron.”

“I only wanted what was best for them,” the High Priestess insisted stubbornly.

Emily didn’t know where she got the nerve to lie right to the face of the Goddess—or the statue of the Goddess, anyway. She had the idea that if the Goddess had been there in person, with nothing between her and the mortals she addressed, they would all be toast right about now.

Everyone else in the room was kneeling by now—Emily included although she didn’t remember getting down on her knees. And the new Temple Guards that Mother Chundra had hired were flat on their faces, obviously hoping to avoid notice and punishment.

“For their own good?” The marble face was like a thundercloud. “Was it for their own good that you denied them their chosen mates and denied the mates they were given the right to drink their nectar? You know full well that without such intimacy, a Khalla is unable to conceive by her chosen mate. Was it for their own good that you denied them the right to have children?”

“Children and mates would only take away from their sacred duty of serving the people and the Temple!” Mother Chundra insisted.

Emily stared at her. Was she actually arguing with the Goddess now? Wow, she was really asking for it!

The marble statue of the Goddess glared down at the defiant priestess.

“I see that your heart is as hard as this statue I have chosen to use for my purposes. And since you will admit no wrongdoing, I have no choice but to strip you of your title and power. You are cast out of this Temple now and forever more.” The long marble arm pointed at the double doors of the Sacred Grove. “Go!”

“You…I…but your holiness!” Mother Chundra protested in a loud wail.

“Go,” the Goddess repeated. And think long and hard before you dare to darken the doorway of this or any other Temple dedicated to me again,” she continued. “For if you pass the threshold without true repentance in your heart, know that you will burst into flames. I do not tolerate dishonestly or hypocrisy in my presence.”

It looked as though the former High Priestess wanted to protest some more but suddenly, she closed her mouth with a snap and started walking stiffly towards the double doors at the end of the Sacred Grove. To Emily it looked like a stiff wind was at her back—or maybe an invisible hand was propelling her forward. At any rate, she left without looking back. After a moment there was a mad scramble and all the new Temple Guards she had hired ran out as well.

Soon, the only people left were the wedding—or joining party—and the wide-eyed priestesses who had stayed either because they still wanted to watch the ceremony or because they were too frightened to leave.

The vast marble face of the Goddess statue grew kind and loving again.

“Rise, my children,” she murmured in her deep, musical voice. “Continue with your joining ceremony. I would see my only daughter happily bonded to the male she loves before I go.”

“Oh, Goddess…” Lit’aal was still on her knees before the vast marble statue. “Forgive me, but I am not worthy to perform this sacred rite in your holy presence!”

“You are worthy, little priestess,” the Goddess assured her gently. “And you shall be bonded to the male of your choice.” She nodded at Daro. “The two of you will help to run this Temple while my daughter visits her adopted parents on Earth to assure them of her safety.” She looked at Emily. “And you, my darling, when you return to Rageron—for return you must—I want you to institute a change here at the Temple. Many more Khallas are going to be born both here and on the planet of the Wulven Kindred. They must be given free access to all the Temple’s facilities and they must be helped through their Tenrahs by the mates of their own choosing.”

“Of course…Mother,” Emily spoke the word hesitantly, but it felt right on her lips.

“One more word before we continue.” The Goddess turned to look at Tragar. “Be wary, Warrior for trouble is afoot. The new evil will merge with an ancient one to form something more dreadful than any of you may imagine. Dark days are ahead. But know that you can weather the storm if you love and care for each other as you should.”

“Yes, Goddess.” Tragar bowed his head respectfully. “You have my word that I will give my life to protect your daughter, my beloved Khalla, if need be.”

“I know that, warrior.” The Goddess smiled upon him. “Indeed, you have already given it once. That is why I gave it back to you after your heart had stopped in the breeding suite. I respect the sacrifice of a warrior for his mate—in the moment that you gave your life for hers, you earned your place at my daughter’s side many times over. No longer must you be tormented with doubts—despite your past, you are worthy. My beloved Emallia is in good hands.”

“Thank you, Mother of All Life.” There were tears in Tragar’s golden eyes and Emily felt the knot he had carried in his chest for years, since the death of his wife and children—finally loosen. She reached across the aisle for his hand and he grasped her fingers tightly and gave her a look so filled with love and devotion it made her heart ache.

“And now,” murmured the Goddess. “Continue with the ceremony. And know that your union is well and truly blessed.”

Lit’all rose from her prayerful crouch and turned to face the wedding party, who were also rising to their feet.

“Dear ones,” she began in a voice that shook only slightly. “We are gathered here in the sight of the Goddess…”

Emily knew it was her wedding day and she ought to be paying more attention. But her mind was a whirl with everything she’d just learned. And even more than the knowledge that the Goddess was her actual mother, was the fact that she was finally getting married—or joined—to the man she loved more than anyone else in the entire universe. The one who was right for her.

As she looked into Tragar’s golden eyes, so much like her own, and said her vows, she was only vaguely aware of the Goddess watching. And when at last, the ceremony ended and she kissed Tragar long and lovingly, she looked up and saw that the statue was just a statue again.

The Goddess had slipped quietly away. Yet now Emily knew she was real—a real being who loved her and was watching over her. There might be trouble brewing ahead but she knew the Goddess was looking out for her. With Tragar by her side, she would weather all the storms ahead with grace and confidence. And she would be with the man she loved, forever.

Chapter Thirty-four

“I’m really sorry about how I acted before.” Turra was standing in the warm sunshine wearing a white ceremonial robe and a penitent look on her narrow face in the reception area just outside the Temple.

Emily had decided to hold the reception outdoors because the weather was so lovely in the Holy Mountains. It was sunny and just slightly chilly—Emily’s perfect kind of day which she’d almost never gotten to experience growing up in the hot and humid Florida.

There were graceful tables and chairs scattered around as well as a fountain filled with some kind of pale blue punch that Tragar warned her was extremely alcoholic. In fact—he was drinking a glass of it now. When he caught her eye, he raised it to her in a silent toast and grinned. Emily smiled back, feeling happy and secure and totally loved.

There was even a special wedding cake set up on a tall table at the end of the grassy area, although the Temple chefs had been mystified when Emily had asked them to make it. Apparently the Kindred didn’t usually do a wedding cake or the cake cutting ceremony.

“Well…” Emily looked at the penitent priestess uncertainly. Turra hadn’t been in the ceremony and Emily wondered if she knew how the statue of the Goddess had come to life and ordered her mentor out. If she had heard, she might be trying to ingratiate herself with the new High Priestess of the Temple—though Emily was still trying to wrap her head around her new title herself.

“Please,” Turra pleaded. “Look—I brought you these as a gesture of apology.” She brought a hand out from around her back and Emily saw with delight that she was holding a huge, lovely bouquet filled with all kinds of wild flowers in every imaginable shade of blue.

“Oh, they’re gorgeous!” she exclaimed, taking the flowers in both hands. They were heavy and their stems felt cool and waxy against her fingertips. The one thing she hadn’t had at her ceremony was a bouquet—mainly because it was considered rude to bring dead plants into the Sacred Grove, at least according to Lit’aal. Everything in the holy chapel should be green and growing in reverence to the Goddess who was the Mother of All Life.

“Do you like them?” Turra smiled shyly. “I had them gathered from the Deep Blue—the jungle that covers much of Rageron. I thought it would be a nice gift to accustom you to your new home.”

“Well, thank you.” Emily was deeply touched. Maybe she had been too hasty in judging Turra. Maybe the other girl just wanted to make peace.

“It’s said that the Dream Blooms in the center have the scent of the Goddess’s own home land.” Turra pointed to the deep indigo blossoms in the very center of the bouquet. “Go on—smell them,” she urged.

Emily was about to do just that when Kate and Rone came up on her other side and distracted her.

“Hey, girlfriend.” Kate grinned at her. “Well, that was a ceremony I don’t think any of us will ever forget!”

“You’re not kidding.” Emily laughed. “It was…amazing. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“It answers a lot of questions, though,” Rone rumbled thoughtfully. “Now we know why you were found on Earth so far from where any other Khalla has ever been.”

“And we know that everything that happened to you was the will of the Goddess,” Kate added. “Looks like Rone and I were on a wild goose chase.”

“Oh, I’m sorry you came out here for nothing,” Emily exclaimed but her new friend just laughed.

“Don’t be silly! Of course we didn’t come for nothing. I found a great new friend and we got to see the Goddess in action—not many people can say that!”

“Well, I—”

“A-hem.” Turra cleared her throat pointedly and Emily realized she was nodding at the lush bouquet of multi-hued blue blossoms she still held in her hands.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said, smiling politely. “Kate, just look at the gorgeous bouquet Turra gave me.”

“Oh my—those are gorgeous!” Kate leaned closer, her face almost right in the flowers. “Are these all native to Rageron?”

“They sure are.” Emily smiled. “And Turra says the ones in the middle are supposed to smell just like Heaven. Go on—take a whiff.”

“No!” Turra shouted at the same time Rone barked, “Wait!”

But Kate had already leaned forward to bury her face in the riot of blue blossoms. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with their fragrance.

“Kate—no!” Rone grabbed her by the shoulder and dragged her away from the bouquet Emily was still holding.

“What…?” Kate shook her head like a woman waking up from a dream. Then she looked up at Rone and frowned. “Who…who are you?”

“Kate? Lalli? It’s me.” Rone took her small hand in both of his much larger ones and looked into her face. “Just me—your mate, Rone.”

“You…” Her pale green eyes widened and filled with fear. “Oh my God—there’s something different about you. Something wrong. Get away from me! Leave me alone!”

She yanked her hand out of his grasp and stumbled away, looking over her shoulder as though he was a vicious beast coming to get her.

“Kate…sweetheart…” Rone was reaching for her but suddenly there was a low humming-buzzing sound in the area all around Kate.

For a moment, Emily couldn’t see what was happening. Then the humming sound ended and the ceremonial white robe Kate had been wearing for the ceremony dropped empty to the ground. Of Kate herself there was no sign.

She was gone.

The End

Or is it? Read on for a little taste of Brides of the Kindred 16, Forgotten, coming soon…

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Evangeline

Forgotten

coming soon from

Evangeline Anderson

Prologue

“You fool! You’ve taken the wrong female!”

Y winced as his Master bellowed inside his head. Master Two might be nothing but a chip implanted just under Y’s left ear, but he ruled Y with an iron fist despite his lack of a physical body.

“I took the one that sniffed the blossoms, Master, just as you requested,” he pointed out.

“But look at her—this is not the Khalla at all—it’s the mate of that damn tracker.”

“I can see that.” Y strove to keep his voice level. It would be wrong to raise his voice to the Master…no matter how much he might want to.

On the cold steel floor of the Scourge Fathership, the naked girl with the long, coppery curls moaned and stirred. She had been taken by a molecular transfer beam, a Scourge invention Y had traveled to the abandoned ship to get. It had been set to take whoever inhaled the fragrance of the Dream Blooms, exactly as Master Two had ordered. Y didn’t see how it was his fault the wrong female had been taken.

But so it had happened. This female—Kate, Y thought she was called—had apparently unwittingly sprung the trap set for Emily, the new Khalla back on Rageron. Indeed, she still had one of the deep blue blossoms clutched in one hand.

Y wondered how it had come through the transfer beam with her—it was his understanding that only living things were transportable. But maybe the freshly cut flower still had enough vitality to make it through the transfer…or maybe it was the spell the old hag from the Wulven home planet had placed on the blossoms that allowed it to come, clutched in Kate’s small hand. She looked so innocent and vulnerable, lying unconscious on the hard metal floor that Y felt his heart twist with pity. He immediately tried to suppress the emotion—doubtless his Master would see it as nothing but weakness.

“She’s here now,” he said, stolidly. “What shall we do with her? Do you want me to kill her?” He hoped not—he did not enjoy violence, especially towards females. But the Master was not to be denied and anyway, death would be a kinder fate than any of the horrible, twisted tortures the soulless bastard that lived in Y’s brain might devise.

“I would kill her myself, if I had a body!” Master Two hissed, his mental voice filled with frustration. “But no…let me think.”

There was a long silence—so long that Y wondered if the Master had gone to sleep. He did that at times—became inactive during a recharging period. Y had come to look forward to such periods of inactivity—they were the only rest he got from the relentless dictator that lived in his skull.

On the cold floor, Kate stirred again and moaned softly.

“Master,” Y sub-vocalized in case she could hear him. “She is waking.”

“Hush, you fool! Ah—I have it now. We must send her back.”

“You mean back to Rageron? And try to take the Khalla instead?” Y asked doubtfully. “That won’t be easy—they’ll know she was the true target. Doubtless they’ve taken her someplace shielded.”

“No, you idiot! Not back to Rageron—back home. Her home.”

“I don’t understand. Do you mean her home world of Earth?” Y shook his head in confusion. “But why?”

“Two reasons,” Two hissed in his head. “First because we must send her somewhere—we cannot take her with us. Her mate is a Wulven Kindred and they are absolutely deadly in their fur-form—we cannot risk it. Second, because home is the last place the Kindred will expect her to be. They’ll search the entire universe before they think to look back on Earth—which is just how we want it.”

“We do? But why? Are you hoping to distract them in some way?” Y asked.

“Finally, you’re learning! Yes—a distraction. That’s exactly what this girl will be. And while the Kindred are busy hunting for her, they won’t even give a thought to what we might be up to.”

“What do mean?” Y asked. “I thought your entire plan hinged on forcing the Khalla to forget and fear her mate and then transporting her here to the Father Ship for execution after letting him see that she no longer knew him.”

It was another one of his Master’s convoluted plans which he didn’t agree with. Why take the time and trouble to bewitch the flowers in order to make the Khalla react in horror and aversion to the Beast Kindred assassin who had claimed her? Why not just snatch her away and execute her?

But his Master had declared that he wanted the assassin to suffer. He had refused to carry out the contract Two had placed on the Khalla’s head and Master Two wanted his last memory of his bride to be a painful one.

Let him know that she feared and loathed him at the last. It is a fitting punishment, he had said. And so the whole elaborate scheme had been carried out exactly as he had ordered…only to fail at the last minute. It made Y wonder if there had been something wrong with his Master’s mind when he recorded the personality chip which was currently embedded under Y’s ear. He vaguely remembered seeing the corpse of his Master when he first awoke back on Z4, the Dark Kindred home world. It seemed to him there had been dark spots on Master Two’s brain…areas of stinking, oozing rot which would not seem to be conducive to logical reasoning…

“I have been so focused on the Seeing that B’Rugh did for me—so focused on the future of the Kindred race,” Master Two said, interrupting his treasonous thoughts. “But why settle for destroying their future when I can destroy their present?”

“And how do you plan to do that, Master?” Y asked, careful to keep his voice level and respectful rather that doubtful.

“Have you not noticed, Y, all the lovely toys the Scourge left lying around when they died?” His Master’s voice sounded greedy. “This molecular transfer beam is only one of them. Think of everything else they left! The flesh tanks…the sniffer kennels…there are so many tools here, just waiting for the right set of hands to pick them up.”

My hands, you mean, Y thought resentfully but did not say aloud. Since the Master rode inside his head but had no direct access to his body, he was forced to do any physical labor involved in Master Two’s schemes.

“I see,” he said. “So you wish to explore the Father Ship further?”

“Not the Father Ship, no. I think we have found everything we need here. But what ofZlicth?”

“The Scourge home world?” Y shook his head. “But I thought that was a dead world—poisoned beyond repair.”

“Fool—we don’t wish to herd cattle or grow crops! I’m just interested in seeing what other toys the AllFather might have left lying around. I want to know his secrets…to see through his eyes.”

“You’re seeing through my eyes already,” Y pointed out.

“Yes, and what good does it do me? I need eyes of my own…hands…a body.” Master Two cackled gleefully inside his head. “I think our friend the AllFather can help me there.”

“How?” Y asked, honestly mystified.

“You’ll see, my dear Y. For now, just send the girl you erroneously took back to Earth.”

“Which part of Earth?”

“I don’t know—nor do I care. Use a set of the Earth coordinates programmed into the molecular transfer beam if you like. There should be several to pick from—I know the Scourge stole females from there regularly.”

“Very well.” Y obeyed as he always did, although he was becoming increasingly resentful. He punched in the coordinate log and picked a likely one before pointing the needle-like nose of the matter transference beam at the girl who was now moving and moaning regularly. Then he pressed the transfer control.

As she disappeared in a blinding flash of light, Y reflected that at least Two hadn’t made him kill or torture her. But he wondered how she would manage back on earth with no memory of her mate or idea of where she was or how she had gotten there.

“Transfer complete,” he said.

“Very good.” Master Two sounded at least marginally pleased. “Now let’s get back to our own ship and set a course forZlicth at once. I want to see those wonderful toys…”

Y turned at once, leaving the control room of the Father Ship without a second glance. He was glad to be getting away from the huge, haunted-feeling ship. He only wished their destination wasn’t more of the same. What could Master Two be planning?

Neither he nor his ever vigilant Master noticed the crumpled blue Dream Blossom flower left lying on the floor where Kate had been.

Chapter One

Six Months Later…

“So how’s work?” Mimi asked as she forked into her steaming pile of noodles from Sarku Japanese Bistro—one of the many fast food joints in the International Mall food court.

“Not bad.” Kate took a sip of her Jamba Juice Veggie Vitality smoothie. “Same old, same old mostly. I had a woman come in wanting to return an ankle bracelet she said she’d only bought a week ago.”

“And?” Mimi raised one skinny eyebrow. Everything about Mimi was skinny from her eyebrows to her elbows to her long, graceful neck. She was built like a giraffe which meant she and Kate looked funny together, especially standing side by side. Kate didn’t mind though—at 4’9 she was used to being the shortest kid on the block. Still, sometimes the extreme height difference between herself and her friend bothered her. Not because she thought people were looking and laughing but because it seemed to bring back memories. Memories of someone even taller than Mimi…

No, don’t think about it. Kate pushed the half-formed thought resolutely away.

“And the bracelet was tarnished, the clasp was broken, and it was missing a stone,” she said, grinning wryly at Mimi. “I mean, really? I wanted to ask if she’d been in a triathlon while she was wearing it. How else could it get into such bad shape in a week?”

“Customers…” Mimi shook her head. She worked across the mall at the Godiva store so she knew some of what Kate went through. Although selling high end chocolates was a little different than selling extremely expensive jewelry.

Kate shrugged. “Could be worse. Like the lady yesterday who had a fit because we didn’t have the Pandora bead she’d dreamed up in her head. A monkey sitting in a palm tree with a banana dangling from its hand.”

“Weird. Why would she want that?” Mimi took another bite of noodles. She could eat absolutely anything and it would never show on her long, gangly body. Kate wasn’t nearly so lucky. As short as she was, she really had to watch her weight.

“Dunno,” she said, shrugging. “But she got twice as upset when I told her that no, we didn’t have someone in the back who could make anything she wanted to her specification. She actually thought I could just go to the back room and magically make the bead she imagined and get it back to her in under an hour. I mean, what do I look like—a witch?”

Mimi jumped as though Kate had poked her with a pin.

“Uh, well you do have that one thing, you know,” she pointed out in a whisper.

“You mean the Knowing?” Kate sighed. She really wished she hadn’t had to tell her friend and room mate about her peculiar little talent for finding out private details about people when she touched them. It was a gift that had run in her family for generations—her mother and grandmother, both deceased—had both had it.

It was supposed to be a family secret but when Kate had woken naked and alone in the middle of a park in Sarasota six months ago with Mimi standing over her, she had reached out to the other girl in blind panic. Mimi had taken her hand to help her up and Kate had blurted out, “Your name is Marjorie but you hate that name so you go by Mimi. Your mother died of breast cancer exactly one year ago and you own twelve cats even though you told your apartment complex you only have six.”

Mimi had drawn back, aghast. But thank goodness for Kate, the outpouring about her personal life had fascinated her rather than repelling her, as it did many people. She’d wanted to know more about this strange, naked girl who’d appeared out of nowhere and seemed to know everything somehow. So instead of driving Kate to the Salvation Army or some other charity shelter, she’d taken her home to her apartment in Tampa and let her stay.

Kate was beyond grateful to her new friend—especially since she had no idea how she’d gotten to Sarasota or what had been happening to her the past three years. She had a serious gap in her memory that bothered her terribly. Mimi, however, had a kind heart and a patient spirit—she was a collector of hurt people as well as animals. She’d told Kate everything would come back in time. In the mean time, she was welcome to stay as long as she wanted to.

Though she appreciated the sentiment, Kate wasn’t sure she wanted everything to come back. After all—what if something really terrible had happened to her and she’d blocked it out? Maybe she had a traumatic past that her mind was hiding from her. It was just blind luck that she’d been found by someone like Mimi. Her new friend had given her a place to stay and even let her have her pick of the clothes her last roommate had left in the closet.

The roommate had been 5’4—substantially taller than Kate. But they’d had the same proportions—generous bust and hips with a small waist. So with a little hemming, most of the clothes were wearable. She’d had good taste too so Kate had looked nice enough to get a job at International Mall, the swankiest and most expensive mall in the Tampa Bay area. It was right by the airport and had lots of international customers so Kate’s knowledge of languages came in handy too.

The language thing was…weird. She could somehow instantly understand and speak any language she heard whether she knew it or not. It wasn’t like the Knowing, a gift handed down from generation to generation. That was just part of her DNA. The language thing hadn’t been there before the gap in her memory—Kate knew for a fact because she could remember failing high school French. She’d had what her teacher called a “dead ear” meaning she couldn’t hear or master the necessary accent to make her spoken French sound anything but atrocious. Yet now she spoke French like a native Parisian—she’d spoken it just yesterday to a client at her store. And she could speak any other language as well, even if she’d never heard it before.

Kate had no idea how she’d acquired her gift with languages but it certainly came in handy in her job. In fact, it was the way she’d gotten the job in the first place…

She’d been walking through the mall a few weeks after her sudden appearance in Sarasota, looking for work after Mimi had started her shift at Godiva. Since she didn’t own a car, it made sense to try to find a job in the same place her new friend worked. Unfortunately, it seemed like no one was hiring. Kate was just about to give up on the nicer shops and go try the food court when she’d passed by a high end jewelry store on the top floor of the mall. Official purveyor of Rolex watches, proclaimed an elegantly scripted sign out front. Inside, a customer was trying to make himself understood in Farsi.

Of course, Kate didn’t know it was Farsi—she only knew that he was speaking in a foreign tongue but she could somehow understand it. For a moment she just stood there, stunned. How in the Hell could she understand everything the customer was saying when she didn’t know any language but English? She stood there staring into the jewelry store, unable to drag herself away.

“No, this is not the one I am looking for,” the customer was saying, pointing at something in the jewelry case. “I want one with rubies—those are my wife’s favorite stone.”

“I’m sorry…” The saleslady said. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Do you speak English?”

“What?” Plainly the customer was getting more and more irritated.

“What about Spanish? Do you speak Spanish?” the sales lady asked, switching to Spanish.

Kate’s mouth dropped. This she recognized—she’d heard Spanish spoken often enough to know what it sounded like. Only, she’d never understood it before. Now it was perfectly clear.

“What are you saying?” the customer demanded in Farsi.

“I’m sorry,” the saleslady said, shaking her head hopelessly. “I only speak Spanish and English.”

“Forget it!” The customer threw up his hands in disgust.

It was at this moment that Kate had an epiphany. She didn’t know how she was understanding these languages but clearly she was. Behind her in the mall, she heard two women walking by, speaking in Vietnamese. Kate understood every word. Apparently this was a new gift she somehow had.

Being suddenly multi-lingual probably would have freaked out most people but Kate was used to being unusual. She’d grown up knowing she was different from everyone else and the kids in her small town high school had never let her forget it for an instant. You either hid your differences away and let them make you a freak…or you used them to your advantage to make you stronger. Kate preferred the latter.

But just because she understood all these languages, did it mean she could speak them too?

Only one way to find out!

Lifting her chin, Kate stepped into the jewelry shop.

“Excuse me, but I think I know what he’s saying,” she told the saleslady, pointing to the disgusted customer was preparing to leave. “I think I can help.”

“If you can, please!” She was an older lady with an elegant coif of gray hair swept up in the back and a simple strand of pearls around her neck. “I’d love to help him but I can’t understand a word.”

“Hello,” Kate said to the disgusted customer in perfect Farsi. “Can I help translate? I know your language.”

“Oh, at last! Finally someone who can help—thank you, yes!” He nodded eagerly. “I cannot go home without procuring something for my wife. I see a piece I like very much but I need it with rubies, not emeralds.”

“Show me,” Kate said and he pointed at the case. Kate translated rapidly between him and the saleslady, amazed to hear the words pouring out of her own mouth. Words she shouldn’t have been able to understand or pronounce at all and yet they came flowing as easily as if the customer’s language was her native tongue.

The saleslady happened to have exactly what the customer wanted in another case. Before long, the sale was made and everyone was happy. Kate was about to leave and see what other languages she could understand when the manager of the store stepped out from the back.

“I saw that—a very impressive display, young lady,” he said, nodding at Kate.

“Oh yes, Mr. Myers, she was wonderful, wasn’t she?” The older saleslady beamed at Kate. “Thank you so much—I couldn’t have made that sale without you to translate.”

“So do you speak other languages?” the manager asked. “We get quite a lot of international customers here and we’re always on the lookout for sales staff with multilingual capabilities.”

Kate had decided to take a chance. “I can speak and understand just about any language there is,” she’d said quietly, keeping her voice level and calm so it didn’t seem like she was bragging. She wasn’t completely certain it was true but it seemed like a pretty safe bet.

“Is that right?” The manager looked even more interested. “You have a gift for languages, do you?”

“You could say that,” Kate said.

“And are you looking for employment?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.” Kate had stepped up and held out her hand. “Kate McMillan.”

“Arthur Myers,” he’d said, taking her offered hand. The minute she touched his hand, Kate had known this was a good situation for her. But she needed to take things carefully.

“Come back to my office and we’ll talk,” Mr. Myers had said. Kate had allowed him to usher her into the back, knowing from the single touch of his hand that he wouldn’t hurt or assault her. Besides, even if he tried, she had her Glock 42 concealed under her dressy business suit jacket.

The 42 was one of the smallest guns Glock had ever made, which made it ideal both for Kate’s small hands and a concealed carry. She’d found it along with a few small pieces of her past and she wasn’t willing to give it up.

After a few weeks of living with Mimi, more of Kate’s memory had come back and she’d been able to get some of her personal effects, which had been stored in her mom’s house back in Mississippi. Mimi had driven her there—happy to go on a road trip—and though Kate didn’t have the keys, she knew just how to jiggle the handle of the back door to get in.

Inside, stored in the attic, she’d found her driver’s license, birth certificate, social security card—and of course the gun. It had cost her some time and trouble to get the concealed weapons carry permit here in Florida but Kate considered it money well spent. She had a feeling there was something else hiding in that three year time gap—another memory not nearly as useful as her sudden ability with languages. A dark memory—one she might need protection from.

So she carried the 42 with her everywhere she went and even slept with it under her pillow at night. It made her feel better—as though she was somehow in control. As though she hadn’t lost three whole years of her life somehow and wound up naked and alone in a Sarasota park with no knowledge of how she’d gotten there.

“Have a seat, please.” The manager had indicated a plush, leather chair across from his own.

“Thank you.” Kate took the seat and smiled sedately. “Tell me why you want me to work here.”

Mr. Meyers looked rather flustered.

“Oh, well that’s usually my line. You tell me why you want to work here.”

“Well, I need a job. Right now I’m living with my good friend Mimi and I want to be able to help out—pay half the rent and groceries.”

“That sounds responsible of you.” Mr. Meyers looked sympathetic. “So are you having a hard time finding something in today’s market? Maybe your degree isn’t very useful? Lourdes, the nice woman you helped make that sale, has a Masters in Sixteenth Century Spanish poetry. Not very practical I’m afraid.”

“Actually, I have a degree in Communications. Not terribly useful but not a complete waste of time either,” Kate said pleasantly. “The reason I can’t find a job is that I have a three year gap in my résumé—most employers don’t like that.”

“Hmm, as an employer myself I can see why.” Myers had frowned. “Can you tell me why you have this gap?”

This was something Kate had struggled with over and over in other job interviews. She didn’t like to lie but it sounded both crazy and dramatic to explain that she’d been abducted, had three years of her memory wiped, and been dumped naked in a park in Sarasota. She supposed she could say she had been working for the government on some kind of black ops mission but she didn’t exactly look like a spy. Also, she had no Army record of any kind and it would be easy enough to trace the falsehood.

The only lie that fit the situation made her very uncomfortable to use but what else could she do? She really needed this job and just one little lie wouldn’t hurt—she hoped.

“The Kindred,” she said, the words tasting like dust on her lips. “I…I was called as a bride. Went up to the Mother Ship and stayed for the past three years.” Since the Kindred didn’t make their claiming files available to the public, this would be very difficult to confirm or deny. It was the perfect excuse—she just wished it didn’t give her that itchy, uncomfortable feeling between her shoulder blades, like someone was watching her.

“A Kindred bride, eh?” Myers raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Forgive me but it was my understanding that the Kindred took wives for life. Almost no one ever comes back after being mated to one.”

“It doesn’t always work out,” Kate said tightly. “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.” She straightened up in her chair. “I think it would be a better idea if I told you why you want to hire me.”

“All right.” Myers steepled his fingers under his chubby chin and gave her an interested look. “Tell me.”

“Aside from my multilingual capabilities, you want me working here for you because I would be a great saleswoman. I know things about people the minute I meet them and shake their hand.”

“You do? Go on.” Mr. Myers looked more intrigued than ever and Kate mentally breathed a sigh of relief. She’d gotten an impression when she shook his hand that he would be open to her gift, just as Mimi was. But it was always a risk telling someone about the Knowing.

“I know that you’ve been married to a lovely woman named Melinda for the past twenty-two years, that you have two daughters named Jessie and Dawn, and that you live in South Tampa,” Kate began, getting the easy stuff out of the way first.

Myers frowned. “Anyone could find that out just by doing an internet search on me.”

“Yes, but could they also know that you have never—not once—cheated on your wife? Even that time in Vegas at the jewelers’ convention. That girl at the bar was so pretty! She had red hair and green eyes like mine. She bought you a drink and you talked half the night. She wanted you to come up to her room and you were halfway there…then you thought about Melinda and Jessie and Dawn—how much you loved them. How you didn’t want to betray them. And you resisted temptation.”

As she spoke her piece, Myers’ face went first red, then white. But he didn’t start shouting at her or ordering her out of his office, which was a good sign. Some people didn’t take their most private moments being exposed very well.

Kate knew that she was lucky that particular memory had been at the top of his mind when he shook her hand—probably because she reminded him of that long ago girl that got away. It was a good memory too—one he could be proud of. So much better than if she’d caught a flash of him kicking a stray dog when he thought no one was watching or binge eating Chunky Monkey ice cream straight from the carton at three o’clock in the morning when no one else was up.

Myers drew a deep breath.

“Well,” he said at last. “You’re right. That’s certainly something unique that no one else should know. I thought I’d take that memory to the grave. Can you read everyone’s mind or just mine?”

“It’s not mind reading—I just know things about people when I touch them sometimes. It’s a family gift,” Kate said, trying to downplay it a bit. “You can imagine how useful it would be here on your sales floor. As I greet each customer and shake their hand, I’ll be able to tell if they’re really intending to buy and what exactly they’re looking for. I’ll be able to steer them in the right direction.”

“Yes…” Myers rubbed his balding head thoughtfully. “Yes, I can see how that would come in handy.”

“I can also tell if they have…dishonest intentions.”

“That could be useful,” he said thoughtfully. “We had some trouble here a few years ago. Maybe you heard about it?”

Kate shook her head.

“Well some gentlemen came in here…ha! I say gentlemen but they were basically thugs. Anyway, they used sledgehammers to break into our Rolex cases and made off with half a million dollars worth of merchandise.” He frowned. “Insurance covered our losses, of course, but it was still a bad situation. The sound the sledge hammers made was very like a shotgun blast. People assumed there was some kind of terrorist attack. The whole mall was evacuated and shut down…just a mess.” He shook his head.

“That won’t happen on my watch.” Kate lifted her chin. “Someone intending to shoplift or rob the store will have to get through me first.”

“Oh, well…” Mr. Myers smothered a laugh. “Of course I would ask you to keep an eye on anyone you had reason to suspect but I would never expect someone of your, er, stature to get involved in any kind of altercation.”

“You think a tiny, petite little thing like me can’t defend herself, let alone defend your store?” Kate raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well…I mean, you are rather…uh, small.” He cleared his throat. “You must admit that.”

“I admit it, all right. I know it to my bones—I am always going to be the smallest one in any given situation,” Kate said. “That’s why I make sure I’m always prepared.”

Opening the left side of her suit jacket, she exposed the butt of the dainty Glock 42.

“Oh my!” Mr. Myers scrambled backwards quickly, nearly losing his balance in his swivel chair.

“It’s all right.” Kate let her jacket fall closed. “I’ve got a permit to carry concealed. “I’ll show it to you if you want.”

“Yes, well…that would be necessary if I hired you.”

Good—he was still talking about hiring her. Kate blessed her gift again. She’d been pretty sure he would be receptive to her little show of force but it was impossible to know for sure until you tried.

“All right,” she said quietly.

“But…do you even know how to use it?” Myers nodded at her hidden gun again.

“Let me tell you, Mr. Myers, I grew up in Mississippi without a daddy or any male protection. One of the first things my mother taught me was how to shoot. The second was the right way to clean house—she was picky that way.” Kate smiled and got an answering smile in return which encouraged her to continue. “I can promise you I’d never draw my gun unless somebody else drew a gun on me or one of the other employees first.”

“What if I asked you to leave it at home?” he’d asked, frowning a little.

Kate sighed. “I can’t do that. I need it for protection.”

“From your ex-husband?” His frown deepened. “Is he going to come here hunting you and want to shoot up the place?”

“No, no—nothing like that,” Kate assured him. “It’s just I’m a woman alone—a small woman alone. And Tampa is a pretty big city with a high crime rate. If you want me to work evening shifts and lock up for you some nights, I’ll need to feel protected. And in my experience, I can’t rely on anyone but myself for that protection.” She felt a twinge as she said it and a little voice whispered in her head that once she’d had someone else to protect her—someone to get her back. But Kate pushed it away. It was all foolishness—she was all she had and she had to stick to her guns. Literally.

“Well…having an armed sales person on the floor is highly unusual. In fact, I don’t think I know of a single other manager who would allow it. If you actually did ever shoot anyone I would have to disavow any knowledge of your…er…armed state. I’d have to be crazy to even consider it. Still…”

Kate could see that Myers was wavering.

“Just think of me as an extra security guard,” she said, smiling at him comfortingly. “An undercover one no one knows about. And you don’t have to pay me any extra—I’ll work on commission the same as everyone else.”

“Yes…and if your gift is everything you say it is, I dare say you’ll be making more commission and more sales than any of my other sales people inside a month.” Mr. Myers had smiled at her. “All right, Ms. McMillan, you’ve convinced me. We’ll have to do a background check of course.”

“Of course.” Kate nodded easily, her heart pounding. Was she really getting the job?

“If that all comes back clean, shall we give it a one week trial period to start? And then if we’re a good fit, we can take it from there.”

“I’m grateful for the opportunity.” Kate held out her hand again. Myers had hesitated briefly but then took it and gave it a firm shake.

“Nice to have you aboard. Now let’s just get you set up with the right paperwork…”

“So what time do you get off tonight?” Mimi asked, breaking Kate’s train of thought. She was almost finished with her huge pile of noodles, Kate saw a bit enviously. If she’d eaten a pile of carbs like that, her pants wouldn’t button for a month but Mimi would stay slim and gangly forever—she had the metabolism of a racehorse.

“I have to close.” She sighed and then brightened. “But I have a customer coming back that I think might really pan out. He’s interested in buying one of the Rolexes. A Yacht-Master edition I think.”

“Ooo…” Mimi leaned forward, her kindly face lighting up with interest. “And how much do those run?”

“He’s looking at one in the 70,000 dollar range.” Kate smiled. “Which means I can finally pay you all the back rent I owe.”

“Oh please…” Mimi made a shooing gesture. “You know I don’t care about that!”

“Yes, but I do,” Kate said stubbornly. “You’ve been so good to me, taking me home and letting me stay with you, even after I remembered about my mom’s house.”

“I’m glad you decided to come back to Tampa even after our little road trip.” Mimi smiled. “The apartment would have felt so lonely without you.”

“Well, there’s nothing for me in Mississippi.” Kate smiled back. “And a really good friend here in Tampa. My only friend.”

“Hey—you’ll meet new people. If you ever come out of your shell.” Mimi patted her hand gently. “I wish you could come to Pat’s party tonight. It’s going to be a hoot.”

“I bet.” Kate tried to paste a regretful look on her face but the truth was, she was more than glad to be missing the party Mimi was talking about. The good thing about Mimi was, she loved everybody. By the same token, the bad thing about Mimi was, she loved everybody.

Pat, who was throwing the party, had been over to their apartment once before. He was tall, balding, somewhere in his mid-thirties and seemed to be stuck in perpetual hippie mode. His entire wardrobe consisted of baggy, torn jeans and big tie-dyed t-shirts that couldn’t quite hide his hairy gut. He also had long, dirty fingernails and smoked pot that he grew himself in his own hydroponic garden. Kate would rather watch paint dry than go to a party at his house.

“Pat’s going to be upset you’re not there,” Mimi remarked, finishing the last of her noodles. “I think he likes you. Like, really likes you?”

“Oh, really?” Kate tried to keep her voice neutral but inside she was cringing. Now she was doubly glad she was working late tonight. Just the thought of Pat pawing at her with those big, hairy mitts and long, dirty fingernails made her feel queasy.

“Really.” Clearly Mimi wasn’t aware of the reaction she’d caused by mentioning Pat’s feelings, which was just as well.

“You know, Mimi…” Kate tried to find a nice way to say what had to be said. “When it comes to Pat, well…I really don’t feel ready to date anybody just yet.”

“Oh, of course.” Mimi put a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Kate—I swear I won’t say anything to encourage him. Are you…” Her voice dropped. “Are you still having those bad dreams?”

Kate took a last sip of her juice, trying to hide her confusion. She wished she hadn’t told Mimi about the dreams—the ones where a huge, muscular stranger with burning blue eyes was stalking her. But she’d apparently been thrashing around and crying out one night and Mimi had woken her up. The whole bad dream had come pouring out and now her friend knew everything.

Well, not quite everything. She only knew about the man Kate saw in her dreams. She didn’t know about the other thing—the Beast—as Kate had come to call it. It was somehow attached to the man but she didn’t know how. It snarled and snapped at her, its deep red eyes narrowed in menace and its knife-like teeth hungry for her blood.

It’s the beast you really have to watch out for, whispered a little voice in her head. The man you could take down with a couple of well placed shots. But the Beast…nothing’s bringing that monster down. Not once it sets its sights on you and decides you’re dinner. If that happens, you’re toast, Kate—as good as dead.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, feeling a cold chill run down her back at the thought. “But I’ll be okay. I’m just…not ready to date right now.”

“Of course not. And you don’t have to until you’re ready.” Mimi patted her arm comfortingly.

“Thanks Mimi. Did I ever tell you how sweet you are?” Kate grinned at her with genuine affection. “You’re like my guardian angel, you know that, girlfriend?”

“Aww…” Mimi’s narrow cheeks grew red. “Stop it.”

“I will not,” Kate said. “If you hadn’t found me when you did, I—”

Her voice died in her throat and a feeling of dread clutched at her heart like an icy fist.

“You what? Kate? Are you okay?” Mimi looked at her anxiously.

“I…I just…” Kate couldn’t form anything coherent to say. Across the busy, crowded food court a tall figure was standing, watching her. A tall, muscular man with dark hair and burning blue eyes.

The man from her dream.

Kate felt like her heart was about to stop. Cold sweat broke out all over her body and suddenly she couldn’t get a deep enough breath to fill her lungs, even though she was gasping for air.

Him—it’s him! He’s coming to get me!

Her hands clenched into trembling fists and she started to see spots dancing in front of her eyes. God, was she going to black out?

No, can’t do that! Have to take control. Have to breathe!

“Kate? What is it? What are you staring at?” Mimi looked to see what had put the expression of horror on her friend’s face. But just as she turned her head, the tall man, who was head and shoulders above anyone else in the food court, somehow melted into the crowd and disappeared.

As soon as he left, Kate’s heart gave a little skip and started beating normally again. Her breathing slowed and her tense muscles began to relax.

“Nothing,” she said in a voice that trembled only a little. “It’s nothing. For a minute I thought I saw—”

“Saw what?” Mimi looked at her with genuine concern on her long face. “Seriously Kate—what? You looked white as a sheet. For a minute I thought you were going to faint or have a panic attack!”

“It was nothing.” Kate waved a hand, trying to dismiss the dark figure. “A figment of my imagination, that’s all.”

“Well…if you’re sure.” Mimi was clearly reluctant to let it go.

“I’m sure,” Kate said briskly. Standing, she grabbed her empty cup and Mimi’s tray. “Come on—break’s over. Time to get back to work. I have expensive watches to sell.”

“But—”

“And if I sell that Yacht-Master, we’ll have our own party!” Kate promised recklessly. “It’ll be amazing.”

“That sounds like fun.” Mimi seemed willing to let herself be distracted, at least for now. Kate breathed a sigh of relief. She dumped their trash in the can and they chatted lightly about possible party themes as they left the food court together. Of the tall, dark-haired man with blue eyes, there was no sign. Kate tried to tell herself he was just a figment of her imagination, brought on by Mimi’s mention of her dreams. But he’d seemed so real standing there, staring at her.

So real and so very, very dangerous.

To be continued in Forgotten, Brides of the Kindred 16, coming soon...

Also by Evangeline Anderson

Brides of the Kindred series

Claimed  (Also available in Audio and Print format)

Hunted   (Also available in Audio format)

Sought   (Coming to Audio August 2015)

Found    (Coming to Audio 2015)

Revealed (Coming to Audio 2015)

Pursued

Exiled

Shadowed

Chained

Divided

Devoured

Enhanced

Cursed

Enslaved

Targeted

Forgotten (Coming Soon)

Mastering the Mistress (Kindred novella available only in Mastered 2 Box Set)

Born to Darkness series

Crimson Debt (Also available in Audio)

Scarlet Heat    (Also available in Audio)

Ruby Shadows (Also available in Audio)

Cardinal Sins (Coming Soon)

Compendiums

Brides of the Kindred Volume One

Contains Claimed, Hunted, Sought and Found all in one volume

Stand Alone Novels

Purity (Coming soon to Audio)

Stress Relief

The Last Man on Earth

YA Novels

The Academy

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Brides of the Kindred Glossary

AllFather—the evil head of the Scourge, a race that are the byproduct of a failed genetic trade. The AllFather is one of the Old Ones and has the power to reach into a person’s mind to harvest emotional pain and trauma. He lives for the fulfillment of the Scourge Prophesy.

Ancient Ones—beings which live in the Deep Blue—the darkest and most inaccessible part of the Rageron jungles. They are sentient but not related in any way to the Kindred. Each Ancient One has two forms—a bipedal form which resembles a human or Kindred and a beast form which can be deadly and they can change between forms at will. The Ancient Ones predate even the First Kindred and revere the skrillix plant, which they guard jealously.

Bespeak—to contact someone mentally using a Think-me device. It is considered rude to bespeak someone you don’t know intimately.

Beast/Rager Kindred—come from Rageron—a jungle planet full of beautiful but deadly flora and fauna. They have dark hair, golden eyes, and hot tempers but their most defining characteristic is the mating fist. The mating fist is an area at the base of the Beast Kindred’s shaft which engages fully only during bonding sex with his chosen mate. When engorged it swells to keep the Beast Kindred and his bride locked together until she is completely bonded to him. This ensures sex that is both extremely long lasting and multiorgasmic for both partners.

Blackness between the Stars—another name for the Hoard or Grimlax, an ancient enemy of the Kindred. These beings have no souls and so are considered demonic by the Kindred.

Blood Fever—a condition suffered by unmated females on Tranq Prime, the home world of the Blood Kindred. Blood Fever or Burning Blood as it is often called, is caused by a parasite living on the icy world that affects only women. The parasite—found in the fleeta or blood beetle—reacts with a compound in the Tranq Prime water supply to cause the fever. Symptoms include chills, increased sexual need and the feeling of the blood heating in the veins as well as increased coloration of the nipples and sex. If the fever is not treated in forty-eight hours, it will result in death.

Once a Kindred male has had a female’s blood, he forms a natural antidote to Blood Fever which he can pass on by sharing body fluids with her. The most effective way to get the antidote into the female’s system is for a Blood Kindred to bite her, thereby injecting it along with his essence. However, it is also possible to pass along the healing fluid through sex.

Blood Fever used to be very common on Tranq Prime which is what prompted the cold, proud natives to initiate a genetic exchange with the Kindred in the first place. A recent vaccine has nearly eradicated the disease, however, and the original inhabitants of the ice bound planet have little reason to continue the trade. A faction calling themselves Purists are against any further trade with the Kindred.

Blood/Tranq Kindred—are blond with pale blue eyes and come from Tranq Prime where ice, snow, and arctic-like temperatures are the norm. To combat the severe weather conditions, the Blood Kindred have higher than normal body heat with double the human amount of red blood cells. They have developed specific biting rituals to share their supercharged blood and take the blood of their mates during their own version of bonding sex. They have a set of double fangs located where a human’s canine teeth would be. These fangs do not develop fully or become sharp enough to pierce flesh until a Blood Kindred is with a woman he wishes to mate and bond with.

Bonding Ceremony—a wedding-type ritual which takes place after the Claiming Period if the bride chosen by a Kindred warrior has allowed him to have bonding sex with her and joined her mind to his.

Bonding Sex—the extra step a Kindred warrior takes to bind his bride to him permanently during intercourse. For the Beast Kindred, it is the use of the mating fist. For the Blood Kindred, bonding sex means sex during penetration. Twin Kindred bind a bride to themselves by entering her and coming in her at the same time.

Claiming Ceremony—a sort of engagement service that takes place when a bride is first claimed by a Kindred warrior. He declares his intentions toward her and she vows to obey the laws of the Claiming Period.

Claiming Period—women who are drafted are required to go up to the Kindred Mothership and spend a thirty day “claiming period” with the warrior who has chosen them. If, at the end of that time, they have managed to resist the charms of their Kindred mate, they are allowed to go back down to Earth and resume their normal life. However, if they succumb to their Kindred male’s seduction, they are mated for life and must move to the Kindred ship to live, leaving everything else behind and seeing their family and friends on Earth only infrequently. Of course, many women are unwilling to give everything up at the drop of a hat, draft or no draft. But the Kindred have a secret weapon—devotion to their female’s pleasure and attention to detail during incredibly hot sex.

Claming Period Rules—The Claiming Period lasts for four weeks during which the Kindred warrior attempts to seduce his chosen bride and she tries to resist him:

The Holding Week: the Kindred warrior may hold his bride.

The Bathing Week: the warrior and his bride bathe together and he is allowed to massage her with scented oils and make her come.

The Tasting Week: the warrior is allowed to perform oral sex on his bride.

The Bonding Week: sex is allowed but it is completely up to the bride whether she will take things a step further and allow bonding sex which is a special and specific process to the three different types of Kindred males. (Most women have given in well before this point but a few do resist.)

The only way out before the claiming period is up is a breach of contract. This can happen if the Kindred warrior does not strictly follow the rules and tries to skip forward in the order of allowed events or by breaking one of the rules laid down by the Kindred High Council. These rules—mostly to do with restrictions on communication with Earth—are for the safety of everyone aboard the Mothership and are nonnegotiable. Ignorance is no excuse for breaking them and will result in immediate termination of the claiming period.

Convo-pillar—A half inch long insect which resembles a brightly colored caterpillar. Convo-pillars were genetically engineered by traders on the fringe colonies around Rageron to translate alien languages by communicating via thought waves to their wearer’s brain. They have been outlawed by the Kindred High Council because their notoriously unreliable translations cause more conflicts than they solve.

Dark Kindred –also known as Enhanced Ones—this faction of the Kindred race broke off centuries ago when there was a shortage of viable females to call for brides. Vowing to overcome their sexual urges, the Dark Kindred made a genetic trade with the cyborg-like residents of Zeaga Four who are ruled by a group of sentient machines called the Collective. Since all emotion is prohibited on Zeaga Four, the organic inhabitants get emotion damper implants to keep them from committing Feel-crime. Anyone found guilty of Feel-crime without a special dispensation from the Collective may be summarily purged.

Deep Blue—the darkest and most inaccessible part of the Rageron jungles

Dream Sharing—occurs when a Kindred warrior’s mind aligns with that of his bride and they begin to see each other’s day to day activities and memories in their sleep. However, the alignment of the two (or three in the case of the Twin Kindred) minds can take several forms and is not limited to sleep.

Fireflower Juice—an alcoholic beverage made from the Fireflower plant native to Rageron. It resembles milk in appearance but has the flavor of honey, vanilla, lavender and blueberries.

High Councilor—the rightful ruler and defender of the Kindred home planet, First World. Only the High Councilor may sit upon the throne of wisdom and see with the eye of foreknowledge. Without a High Councilor in place, First World and the rest of the Kindred race cannot be adequately protected against the evil machinations of the Hoard.

Hoard—an ancient enemy of the First Kindred also known as the Grimlax or the Blackness which eats the Stars, they are evil, demonic beings with ravenous appetites and a desire to conquer, devour, and destroy every living thing in the universe. They are divided into tribes with the lowest echelon being the most numerous and primitive. The elite or upper echelon tribes are more sophisticated and intelligent but also much more dangerous. They are notoriously manipulative and able to change their appearances using a technique called “shadowing” to look like anyone or anything they choose.

Kindred—a race of genetic traders who have traveled the universe for centuries looking for viable matches to expand their gene pool. Since a genetic anomaly ensures that their population is ninety-five percent male, they are specifically looking for women.

The three genetic trades the Kindred have already made have resulted in three very specific types of men. But though they take on some of the physical characteristics of the race they are trading with, the Kindred gene always ensures three things: physical prowess, extremely large and muscular body structure, and undying loyalty to the female of their choice.

Krik-ka-re—a Scourge tradition in which the mind life of one being may be traded for or ransomed by another.

Kusax—a special knife made from the tainted metal at the core of the Scourge home planet. One scratch can be deadly as it infects the wounded person with a soul poison which ensures a slow, agonizing death.

Law of Conduct—the Kindred law which says every warrior is responsible for the good behavior of his bride and gives him the right to punish her—within reason. Often the “punishment” is sexual in nature and some brides become serial offenders simply to experience their Kindred warrior’s particular form of discipline. ; )

Luck Kiss—a kiss performed by the best man and maid of honor at a Kindred Bonding Ceremony in order to bring the happy couple good luck.

Mate of my kin—the way Kindred warriors refer to the brides chosen by their brothers. It is analogous to the English term sister-in-law.

Marks of Possession—the Scourge way of marking a female as their mate. The Marks of Possession include a close-fitting collar, piercings in the nipples and clitoral hood, and a brand on the inner hip or the top of the buttocks. Scourge with Kindred blood also desire to scent-mark their mates but they require the traditional marks of their kind to really feel bonded to the female of their choice.

Mother of All Life—the main Kindred Deity, a kind and benevolent goddess whose teachings include respect and reverence for all things female.

Numala—a Blood Kindred name which means “liquid pussy.” It refers to a female who produces more than the regular amount of lubrication when aroused. Numalas are much prized by the Blood Kindred and sought after as mates because they are more likely to be able to accommodate a Blood Kindred warrior’s larger than average cock.

Psychic-Knife—a torture device developed by the Scourge which is able to break the mental and emotional bond between a Kindred and his bride.

Rage—also Protective Rage or Berserker Rage—a state of altered consciousness that comes over a Kindred warrior when his bride is threatened. It floods the bloodstream with endorphins and causes such intense anger and aggression that a Kindred in this state becomes a killing machine who will die to protect the woman he has claimed.

Sacred Grove—an area of green and purple trees that houses the temple of the Mother of All Life. The Kindred Mother ship has been equipped with an artificial green sun like the one on their home world in order to allow these holy trees to grow and flourish.

Scourge—a genetic trade gone wrong, these menacing outsiders have twisted desires and sexual needs fierce enough to frighten away even the most adventurous. Their need to dominate and possess their women completely has led to a strange prophesy that they must fulfill…or die trying.

Scourge Prophesy—“One of two, alike and yet different—the double fruit of a single womb from the third planet of a yellow sun. She shall be marked with a white star between her breasts.” These words were spoken by Mee’ah—the last living female of the Scourge race who was believed to be a great seer. The Scourge are a dying race, forced to create new members in artificial wombs called flesh tanks or vats because they have no females. Yet, because they have some of the same genetic characteristics as the Kindred, they are able to create only male children and each new generation is weaker than the last. The prophesy refers to the woman the Scourge believe will be able to mate with the AllFather and bear only daughters to rejuvenate their race.

Skrillix Plant—also known as the Pain Vine. This plant is found only in the heart of the Rageron jungles called the Deep Blue. The brilliant crimson berries of the skrillix are said to cure many illnesses, including stasis sickness and can also dissolve an improperly placed or artificial soul bond. The thorns are said to be as poisonous as the berries are helpful. One prick from a skrillix thorn can give waking nightmares, forcing the victim to relive painful memories. When minds are linked by the juice of the berries, these visions can be shared with others who can witness them via a chemically induced neural link.

Take-me—an animal native to Twin Moons that has been domesticated by the Kindred for transportation aboard their ship. The Take-me has green fur and two heads, one on either end. Each head has three purple eyes. The Take-me has the unique features of being to expand and compress its mass which makes it ideal for storage. Because they originally lived in caves, most Take-mes stay very contentedly in small dark areas in the Kindred food prep areas where they live off the scraps and leavings of their master’s meals. They can eat almost anything except banana peels which they are allergic to.

Tharp—an animal that looks very much like a thin fur blanket which can be worn as a garment. Tharps are cultivated on Tranq Prime and prized for their ability to multiply their host’s body heat and keep them warm in even the most frigid conditions. A tharp can be worn by only one person— as a neophyte or youngster it imprints upon a host and will slowly starve if parted from them. Tharps are intelligent and capable of limited movement. They live as long as their host and subsist only on body heat, needing no other form of sustenance to survive.

Think-Me—a thin silver wire worn around the temples which facilitates mental communication between people who already have an intimate connection.

Touch-U—a flat black mat-like animal native to Tranq Prime which the Kindred have adapted to be a home health appliance. The Touch-U is capable of giving a gentle massage or an all-out erotic experience depending on which button is pushed.

Twin Kindred—come from Twin Moons—a world of vast, stormy oceans dotted with craggy but beautiful islands. True to their namesake, Twin Kindred always come in pairs. The brothers are not identical, however. There is always a light twin and a dark twin. These labels refer not just to skin, hair, and eye coloring but to the twin’s moods and perceptions of the world. The dark twin in the pair is usually more moody and withdrawn while the light twin takes a substantially brighter view of life. The twins are closely linked and able to sense each other’s emotions. They cannot be separated by long distances or for long periods of time without severe pain. They must also share a woman, linking her into their mental and emotional exchange for very intense ménage sex.

Urlich—a type of dog bred by the Scourge. At maturity they are modified with machinery to heighten their sense of smell and intelligence which results in a cyborg-type animal. Once in pursuit of whatever scent has been programmed into their brains, the urlich are utterly single minded and incapable of stopping until their prey has been cornered and captured.

Wave—a Kindred cooking appliance which emits thousands of finely collimated beams of heat to cook food in under a minute.

Zichther—an animal native to the jungles of Rageron, the zichther resembles a small bright blue teddy bear in appearance until it opens its mouth and reveals three rows of incredibly sharp, shark-like teeth.

About the Author

Evangeline Anderson is the New York Times and USA Today Best Selling Author of the Brides of the Kindred and Born to Darkness series. She is thirty-something and lives in Florida with a husband, a son, and two cats. She had been writing erotic fiction for her own gratification for a number of years before it occurred to her to try and get paid for it. To her delight, she found that it was actually possible to get money for having a dirty mind and she has been writing paranormal and Sci-fi erotica steadily ever since.

You can find her online at her website www.evangelineanderson.com

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter Three

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter Three

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34