UnBound

Brides of the Kindred 19

Evangeline Anderson

Unbound

Evangeline Anderson

PUBLISHED BY:

Evangeline Anderson Books

Copyright © 2017 by Evangeline Anderson

E-book License Notes

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Dedicated to all my Kindred readers. Thanks for sticking around this long--you're awesome!

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

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Epilogue

Cougarville 1: Buck Naked teaser

Meet the Shifters of Cougarville

Also by Evangeline Anderson

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Chapter One

They took everything from him—even his name.

The slavers ripped him from his family—from his father, dying with a poison barb in his heart and his mother, still screaming his name even as they slit her throat.

But of course, Varin didn’t remember any of that. The memory block took care of it nicely. His earliest memory was from the age of seven, shortly after he was sold. Before then, everything was blank but after her, his life came into focus.

The first thing in his mind—his true beginning, after the void of blackness that was his first seven years of life—was watching as the nursing attendant brought the baby princess into the viewing room…

* * * * *

“You’re certain this will work? That the lad will truly function as you claim?” The tall, pinch-faced male in the rich golden cloak and ruby-tipped crown stared down from his throne at the boy with a look of mild distaste on his aristocratic features.

The boy stared back, blank-faced and silent. He was tall for his age of seven solar years but scrawny with shoulder blades that jutted up sharply under his ragged tunic. His cheekbones were high and defined and his elbows and knees were knobby. It was his eyes, however, that were truly arresting. A strange, pale bronze, like aged spirits they were—the bronze ringed in black, the same color as his unruly mop of hair. Dark brows, too heavy for his thin, pale face were drawn low over the strangely colored eyes in sullen silence.

“Absolutely, your Majesty! The Vision Kindred have been used as personal bodyguards to royals and nobility for generations.” The boy’s owner—a slaver draped in lavish purple robes from the Tegba system bowed obsequiously.

“Vision Kindred, eh?” The King sniffed. “And what makes them so bloody-damn special?”

“I’m glad you asked, your Majesty.” The slaver smiled an oily, unctuous smile the boy had already learned to distrust. “First, they have an innate ability to immediately target and exploit the weakness of any enemy. And they keep fighting no matter what because they have regenerative abilities—they can regrow a finger or a toe—even an eye—so injuries don’t stop them.”

“That’s all very well but are they good fighters?”

“Good fighters? My Lord—you’d scarce believe it—truly, it’s uncanny! A single Vision Kindred warrior can take on ten armed males and reduce them to rubble in a matter of minutes. It has to be seen to be believed!”

“Are you telling me this child is capable of bringing down ten armed males?” The doubt in the King’s eyes was clear and he drummed his fingertips on the golden arm of his throne.

“Oh no—no, not just yet, your Majesty,” the slaver said. And added quickly, “But he will once he’s grown. Yes, indeed.”

“If that’s so, then why are you trying to sell me a child?” the King demanded. “Why not bring me a warrior grown to protect my daughter?”

“Because of the second reason they’re called Vision Kindred, my Lord—they form the dream-bond when they’re young.”

“The dream-bond? Whatever is that?” The skepticism was growing on the King’s narrow face. The slaver must have sensed his rich client was losing interest because he hastened to explain.

“It’s a bond a Kindred warrior normally forms with the female he would mate with later in life,” he said quickly. “It makes him absolutely loyal and inspires protective instincts unmatched anywhere in the universe. The lad will give his life for your daughter, not just because he’s ordered to but because he’s completely and utterly devoted to her. Your Majesty—King Jerund—the Princess Brynnalla will become his entire world.”

The King frowned thoughtfully.

“The idea of a completely loyal and devoted bodyguard does appeal but her mother, Queen Isolde and I, don’t have time for an infant daughter right now as we’re trying again immediately for a son. We need a proper heir to the throne, you understand. Therefore the princess will be spending the first eighteen years of her life with the Sisters of Chastity and Obedience. No males are allowed in their convent.”

“It doesn’t matter, my Lord,” the slaver declared. “If you bind him to her, the lad will have visions of the princess. His bond to her will grow even if he never sees her in person a day in his life until she’s ready for her Presentation Day at your royal court.”

“But will she also have visions of him?” The King’s eyebrows drew low in disfavor. “I’ll not have my daughter falling in love with a slave due to some strange Kindred bond. She’ll be joined when and to whom I see fit to wed her to. An overly devoted bodyguard—”

“No, no, your Majesty!” the slaver interjected. “The bond goes only one way! The Vision Kindred form the childhood bond by exchanging drops of blood, you see. The lad will have a drop of hers but she’ll have none of his.” He grinned. “He’ll pine for her all his life, but he shall never have her. He’ll protect her like a jealous lover though he never lays a finger on her.”

“And how can you be certain he’ll never lay a finger on her?” King Jerund demanded. “If he’s spending his life pining for my daughter, logic dictates he’ll try to have her at some point.”

“Not with the failsafes we’ve installed, my Lord.” The slaver smiled proudly. “First, the pain cuff—see it there?” He nodded at the boy’s thin left wrist, encircled with a thick black band.

The King looked down for a moment, examining the plain looking cuff. “What of it?”

“Why, it’s a bio-synthetic plasti-steel organism bonded to his skin, my Lord—it’s actually alive and it’ll grow with the lad. It’ll give him a nasty shock if he ever actually lays hands on the princess—a swift deterrent to skin-to-skin contact, you can be sure of that.”

“I thought you said his people had regenerative abilities,” the King snapped. “What’s to stop him from simply cutting the damn thing off?”

“He’d have to cut off his own hand to get that off—the cuff’s linked into his flesh straight to the bone,” the slaver said confidently. “And while his people can regrow and recover from mild injuries such as losing eyes or toes and fingers or such, an entire hand is out of the question.”

“Well…” King Jerund looked somewhat mollified. “All right. And what’s your second failsafe?”

“The slave chip in his spine—implanted just above the cauda-equina via a locking access port, my Lord.” The slaver pointed to the boy’s narrow lower back. “It must be changed once a year or the slave dies. So if you find yourself weary of the lad…” He shrugged, his fat shoulders rolling under his purple robes. “Simply don’t change the chip. I will, of course, include a life-time supply of new chips when you purchase him.”

“If I purchase him, you mean,” the King growled, but he was eyeing the boy thoughtfully now. Clearly the slaver had made his case well.

“If. Of course I meant if,” the slaver said quickly. He shrugged again. “Of course, if you find you’d rather not purchase the new princess a completely loyal slave who can form a remote, unbreakable, one-way bond with her and protect her with his life, I know of another planet where the emperor’s favorite concubine has just given birth—”

“No, no…” King Jerund frowned and inspected the scrawny seven-year old lad once more. “Are you certain he’ll grow to be a good size?”

“His sire was nearly seven standard feet tall, my Lord,” the slaver assured him. “The Kindred are not a small species—the lad will grow to match his sire’s height and size, of a surety.”

“Well then…” The King frowned. “All right. Should I have a servant fetch a perimeter collar to keep him bound to the palace?”

“No need. He’s no memory of his folks—who are dead by the way,” the slaver said. “Or any of his people because the slave chip acts as a memory blocker as well. And after he’s bound to the princess, he’ll have no wish to go running off home anyway—even if he could remember where home is.”

“Very well.” King Jerund looked pleased. “I’ll take him. How is the bond to be formed?”

“It’s very easy, your Majesty and requires only the smallest drop of blood from your daughter’s finger…”

* * * * *

The boy who had no name frowned as he was led from the rich throne room, down a series of tunnels, and into an underground area that seemed to be all glass. As young as he was, he could already see the strengths and weaknesses of the room around him.

Glass—looks easy to break but reinforced by steel threads, the voice of some unknown instinct whispered in his head. Doors are thick iron wood and the locks are secure but look at the hinges—left lower one at the entryway is rusted. Could be broken with a blow to just the right place…

His thoughts were interrupted by two nursing attendants bustling in. One of them held a bundle wrapped in bright pink cloth. It was a baby and she was squalling unhappily—her tiny face fisted tight and almost the same pink as the swaddling around her.

The boy frowned uncertainly. Why bring him here to see this crying, weak little thing? The noise hurt his head—he didn’t like babies. They smelled.

Behind him, his Master, the slaver, spoke again to the tall, thin man with the golden crown.

“Now, King Jerund, just a drop of your daughter’s blood in here…” He held out a tiny tube filled with pale blue liquid. “And we’ll be ready to go.”

“All right. Nurse!” The tall man motioned imperiously for the attendant who was holding the baby. “Did you bring the sterile lancet? We need a drop of blood from the princess—just a little one, mind.”

The nurse pursed her lips like she wanted to ask questions but didn’t dare. Instead, she produced a thin, sharp blade and gave the baby to the other nurse to hold. Then she grasped the tiny, flailing hand and pricked the index finger of the baby’s right hand in one swift, deft move.

This pain set the princess to howling even louder. Her pinched little face went from pink to red and started turning purple under her tuft of silky black hair.

The boy frowned and took a step back. What an ugly baby! And it screamed so loudly all because they pricked its finger!

He himself had already had several painful procedures, much worse than a tiny finger-prick. The obedience cuff around his wrist gave him shocks if he didn’t obey his Master. And the chip implanted in his back had been much worse—agonizing—but no one had held him and shushed his crying as the nurse did now with the baby. Instead, he was left to lie in a corner and told to stop his whimpering or he’d be given something to whimper and cry about.

Since tears had never done him any good, the boy had learned early to hold them back. Now he felt only contempt for those who shed them.

The boy’s Master hurried to catch the single droplet that fell from the baby’s finger in the tube of blue he held. Then he shook it up, watching with a critical eye, until the mixture turned a deep, ruby red.

“There now.” He handed the tube to the boy with a stern look. “Drink, boy. Now.”

The boy who had no name knew better than to disobey. Disobedience meant a painful beating and a screaming tirade by his Master on why the boy was better off dead. Not to mention a shock from his obedience cuff. Silently, he took the tube and downed its contents, not even grimacing at the bitter-sweet flavor.

For a moment, all was the same. Then something inside him shifted—something huge and vital that he didn’t have a name for. He closed his eyes, terror overwhelming him. What was happening? What was wrong with him?

The baby wailed again and his eyes flew open.

She looked the same, squalling in the nurse’s arms, but the boy felt something in his scrawny chest clench at her cries.

In pain—she’s in pain. They hurt her finger when they took the blood!

A fierce urge to protect the baby washed over him. He started forward, his arms outstretched, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He fought it but the big hand pinched harder.

“Let me go!” He struggled, trying to get to her. “She’s in pain! Can’t you see she’s hurting? I have to help her!”

“Impressive,” he heard the King murmur—it was his hard hand that was pinching the boy’s shoulder, holding him back. “Be still, boy—the child will cease crying presently.”

Indeed, one of the nursemaids had produced a sweet-suck which she now popped into the princess’s wailing mouth. The baby princess seemed to consider for a moment whether she wanted to keep crying or taste the delicious sweetness but eventually, the sweet-suck won. Her big, blue eyes widened and her tiny fingers unclenched as she quieted and began sucking eagerly.

“There now, see—” King Jerund frowned. “What is his name? I can’t just go on calling him ‘boy’ or ‘lad’—not if he’s to be the princess’s personal guard.”

“He has no name, your Majesty.” The slaver spread his plump, beringed hands. “It was taken from him when we implanted the slave chip and blocked his memory.”

“No name?” The King frowned at the slaver—the boy’s Master. Or now, his former Master, the boy supposed. He cared little for who thought they owned him because now he knew the truth—she owned him completely. He must protect the baby princess with his life. No matter who called themselves his Master, she was the only one who mattered.

“You can have the naming of him yourself, your Majesty,” the slaver suggested.

“Very well then.” King Jerund’s big hand suddenly spun the boy around and he found himself looking up into the royal, pinched face with its high forehead and long, hooked nose.

“Your Majesty?” he said respectfully, after a prompting look from the slaver.

“I shall give you a name, boy,” the King proclaimed. “As you will be bound to my daughter for the entirety of your life, I name you Varin which means ‘Bound One’ in the ancient tongue of my people.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” The newly christened Varin bowed low, again after a prompting glance from the slaver. “I will serve her always,” he added, hardly knowing what he was saying. “As I live for her, so shall I die for her if the Goddess wills it—that is my pledge.”

The words came bubbling up from somewhere inside Varin—he didn’t know where—but they felt right and came naturally to his lips.

“Prettily spoken.” The King nodded curtly. “Say goodbye to your little mistress, Varin—you will not see her again until her eighteenth birthday dawns.”

Freed of the constraining hand, Varin walked slowly forward to the baby, still held in the nurse’s arms. At a nod from the King, the nurse lowered the little pink bundle and allowed him a closer look at the infant.

Tentatively…tenderly, Varin reached out a single finger to stroke her soft cheek. The princess’s big blue eyes opened wide and her chubby arm flailed, reaching for him—or so it seemed. Suddenly she gripped his finger with surprising force, her little hand fisting tight around it.

“Princess,” he whispered, looking into her face. The King—her father—might say that he wouldn’t see her again for eighteen years but Varin knew the truth. He would be seeing her often in dreams and visions and he would work hard to make his body strong to protect her when they finally met again.

The baby studied him with those wide eyes, almost as though she was memorizing his face.

“Bless me!” the nurse holding her cooed. “She likes you lad! I’ve never seen an infant so mesmerized by anyone before. See how she looks at you!”

“It’s the bond,” the slaver said importantly.

King Jerund frowned. “You said it would only go one way. The princess has not had a drop of the lad’s blood. Nor will she!”

“No, but she feels his devotion just the same, your Majesty,” the slaver said quickly. “Not to worry though—she’ll never have visions or dreams of him, only he of her. Of that you may be certain.”

“Very well.” The King made a dismissive wave. “Take the princess back to her nursery—the Sisters will be coming for her soon. And as for you,” he said, looking at Varin. “It’s time to begin your training. You have much to learn if you’re to be worth the price I paid for you.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Reluctantly, Varin nodded and pulled his finger out of the princess’s grasp. For a moment she clung to him, as though she didn’t want to let go. When he finally did get free of her, she began to wail again, spitting out the sweet-suck and screwing her tiny face up into a fist of misery.

Varin felt her pain as his own—an aching loss that filled his soul and made hot tears sting his own eyes, though he had sworn to himself never to cry again.

“Princess!” he gasped, reaching for her. But the nurse was already taking her away. He watched her go, hands fisted at his sides.

I’ll see you again, he thought. I swear I will! And the next time I see you, I’ll never let you out of my sight—not ever again.

Chapter Two

“You must be so excited!”

“Your Presentation Day!”

“Your first day at Court! Oh, Princess—how wonderful it’s going to be.”

Brynnalla’s new ladies in waiting twittered about her like brightly colored flutterbys.

Brynn could hardly take them in—their full, flouncy dresses were so different from the somber gray robes worn by the Sisters of Chastity and Obedience and their excited prattle was the exact opposite of the quiet she was used to.

One in particular, Lady Amalthia, was especially loud and pretty. With her bright green dress and pale blonde hair done up in an elaborate puff of ringlets around her lovely oval face, it seemed to Brynn that she looked much more like a princess than Brynn herself did.

She looked at herself ruefully in the full length 3-D viewer which was part of her lavishly appointed chamber in the palace. She had on the deep blue dress her Lady-mother the Queen had picked for her but it fit her oddly.

Brynn plucked at the dress. She didn’t possess the full curves Lady Amalthia had to fill out its flounces and shirrs. Instead, a too-thin girl with a slim, almost boyish figure swallowed up in the voluminous dress stared back at her from the viewer. Her breasts were no bigger than teacups and her hips were only slightly curved.

Lady Amalthia, on the other hand, had a bosom that was full to over flowing, her ample cleavage filling her bright green dress beautifully. Compared to her lady in waiting, Brynn thought she looked like a flower in the bud beside one fully bloomed.

Her hair was hopeless too. Her ladies had tried to curl it—truly they had. But the result had been only frizz and Brynn had been forced to go and wet it down to make it behave again. It was long and black and fell straight as a curtain rod to the small of her back, refusing to do anything else.

To make things worse, her long strands were too silky to hold any of the elaborate hair pins the other girls were wearing in their curly, poofed up hair. The fans of feathers and big, bright bows fell right out of her stubbornly straight mane until at last Lady Amalthia had thrown up her hands in disgust and declared that she gave up. Brynn’s long, black hair was left loose around her narrow shoulders in defiance of Court fashion, which made her feel even more out of place.

“Well, at least your dress is lovely,” Lady Amalthia murmured diplomatically. “Even if the rest of you is…somewhat lacking.” She smiled unkindly and the other girls giggled nervously.

“It doesn’t fit right.” Brynn tugged at the dress again. “And the color seems…wrong.”

“I heard your Lady-mother the Queen picked it to match your eyes,” Amalthia told her. “I’m told when you were a baby, they were a blue as deep as the heavens.” She looked at Brynn’s eyes in the viewer and frowned. “Hmm. I wonder what happened? Your brother the royal Prince who was born a year after you still has blue eyes. It's a pity he's not here or you could see for yourself.”

Brynn sighed. Her eyes might have been blue when she was a baby but they had changed when she grew older to a quiet, dove-gray. It wasn’t an ugly color—in fact, her eyes were quite pretty when she was wearing the soft gray robes of the convent where she had been raised. But they weren’t flashy or arresting like Lady Amalthia’s brilliant green gaze or big and brown and dewy like Lady Tenna’s or deep lilac like Lady Chenwith’s or—

A rapping on the door cut into her miserable thoughts.

“King Jerund and Queen Isolde to see the fair Princess Brynnalla,” announced a guard from outside her chamber.

“Oh, the King and Queen! The King and Queen are here!” Her ladies in waiting fluttered like a flock of excited birds, dithering and chattering nervously, rushing to get into the right position around Brynn, framing her like flutterbys around a drab, gray moth, she thought.

“Bow your head, Princess,” Lady Amalthia hissed in her ear as the door opened. “Though they are your parents, they are still the rulers of this planet—you must show respect!”

Brynn needed no such prompting. She hadn’t seen her royal parents since the day of her birth and was as much, if not more, in awe of them as everyone else.

Trembling, she bowed her head and waited as she heard the royal footsteps echo on the marble flagstones of her floor.

“Now then, there she is!” The King’s voice—no, my father’s voice. He is my father, Brynn reminded herself—echoed a bit too heartily in her chamber.

“Indeed she is. Now, Brynnalla, don’t be shy—raise your chin that your father and I might look at you,” the Queen commanded in a high, nasal tone.

Slowly, Brynnalla looked up. Daring greatly, she scanned the faces of the two royal persons before her—her parents. She looked for any likeness in their features and hers but found none.

The King, her father, had a hooked nose and a narrow, pinched face unlike her own. The Queen had a sallow complexion and a huge halo of frizzy red hair completely unlike Brynn’s straight waterfall of black. Her mouth—heavily lipsticked in a violent red hue—was pursed in a way that made her look like she’d been sucking sour-fruit all day. And Goddess above, why did they both have to be so tall?

“Why is she so short?” the Queen demanded, glaring at the King. “Did the Sisters not feed her enough at that convent? Goddess knows we paid them well enough to raise her!”

“What’s wrong with her dress?” the King asked, not bothering to answer his wife’s complaint. “Why is it so big on her?”

“What happened to her eyes? They used to be so blue. As blue as mine.” The Queen put a hand to her darkly rouged cheek as though to highlight her own eyes—which, to Brynn looked like the faded blue of a garment washed too many times.

“If it please your Majesties,” Lady Amalthia spoke up, smiling sweetly, “I think the princess is tired and a little overwhelmed by all the finery of the palace. Perhaps if she had a more simple dress to wear—”

“Yes, yes—do as you please,” the King snapped, frowning. “But whatever you do, hurry. The tournament is about to begin and the princess must be sitting in the royal box between her Lady-mother and me when it does.”

“And do something with her hair,” the Queen added. “It’s dreadful.”

“They tried,” Brynn said, surprising herself by speaking up at last. “It won’t…won’t do anything. It’s too straight to curl.”

“Ugh!” The Queen made a face and glared at the Lady Amalthia. “Do you mean to tell me you intend to let it hang lank about her face like that?” She gestured as though Brynn’s hair was a limp mass of seaweed instead of a straight, shiny waterfall. “It looks horrid!”

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” Lady Amalthia curtsied gracefully. “I will try again.”

“See that you do. And hurry! The King and I are going to the Royal Box.”

The Queen turned and took the King’s extended arm. As they swept from her chambers, Brynn heard her mother say, “Such a disappointment.”

The King patted her arm. “Yes, but never fear, my dear. We have Prince Rolando so the Princess is quite superfluous.”

“What a mercy we had him directly after her so I didn’t have to bother with yet another baby,” the Queen said. “Children are so exhausting—especially when they don’t come out like they’re meant to.”

Her father grunted in agreement and then they were gone.

“Well…” Lady Amalthia frowned and shook her head. “Let’s see what we can do, Princess. I think I have a dress that might fit you—it was my favorite back when I was only twelve solar years old.”

Brynn felt her heart sink but she only nodded.

“Very well—we’d best hurry so as not to keep my royal parents waiting.” But as her ladies in waiting buzzed about her, bustling here and there to get her changed, she couldn’t help feeling a heaviness descending on her.

She was home now and there was no going back.

Chapter Three

Princess Brynnalla sat numbly in the royal box between her tall parents and wished she could melt into the ground and disappear. She had thought she might meet her brother—Crown Prince Rolando in the box—but a few careful questions had yielded the fact that he was away on a pleasure cruise in the southern sea and was expected to be gone several solar months.

Though he was a year younger than her, her brother hadn’t been sent away to live in a convent as Brynn herself had been. Instead, he had grown up here in the palace, indulged in every way.

Brynn wondered what it might have been like to be raised at her royal parents’ side. Would she feel closer to them if she had? Would they view her more favorably or would she still be just a “disappointment?”

In the arena below the box an endless round of sporting matches and feats of daring-do were taking place but Brynn was so miserable she could scarcely pay attention.

Homecoming—she had thought of little else her entire life at the convent. The nuns had told her stories of the finery of the palace and the love her parents felt for her—though Brynn had never thought to question until now—if they loved her so much, why hadn’t they ever come to visit? But she had told herself that once she took her rightful place in court, everything would be beautiful and wonderful and filled with light and life—not like the quiet gray sameness of the convent which could drive you mad if you let it.

Now she longed for the silent halls of the gray stone building where she had been raised…the soft hum of the Sisters murmuring prayers to the Goddess…the simple clothing which never bunched or itched or looked odd because she had the wrong shape.

The dress that Amalthia had put her in was almost as tight as the blue dress had been loose. It was a brilliant red that made Brynn feel even more conspicuous than the ill-fitting one her Lady-mother had picked out for her.

In an effort to tame her mane, her ladies in waiting had pulled her long hair up into a high ponytail at the crown of her head that made her temples ache it was so tight. Even so, her slippery black strands were escaping to frame her face in a way Brynn was certain was most unbecoming. And speaking of crowns, the delicate filigree silver crown Lady Amalthia had placed on her head kept wanting to slip down over one eye—it, like the first dress, was much too big.

Nevertheless, it felt like every eye was on her so she tried to sit straight and tall—well straight, anyway—and pretend she was enjoying the show being put on in honor of her homecoming.

Home, she thought. I’m home…so why do I feel so wrong? So out of place?

It didn’t matter how she felt, though—there was no going back to the convent now. She was stuck here—far from everything comforting and familiar. Stuck with parents who thought her a “disappointment.” There would be no leaving until her father found her an appropriate match and married her off.

Make the best of it, Brynn, she told herself grimly. Take things as they come and deal with one problem at a time, just like the Reverend Mother always said.

Lifting her chin, she tried to take more interest in the field below. She might not look like the other girls—she might be too small and too short with hair that refused to behave—but she was still a princess and it was important to act like one, at least in public.

I can do this, she told herself. I have to—I have no choice.

There was a tumult on the field and the crowd roared. Brynn sat up straighter, suddenly finding she no longer had to fake her interest. What were they shouting for?

She soon had her answer. A new figure had entered the arena—one so tall and muscular he seemed to dwarf every other warrior there. Goddess above, she’d never seen such a one before…or had she?

Brynn felt a shiver run through her though she couldn’t exactly say why. Maybe it was just that the male was so big—he would stand head and shoulders above her father, the King. And speaking of shoulders—his were fully twice as broad as her own, Brynn estimated.

His arms were roped with heavy muscle and he wore a tight black leather vest that left them bare to the shoulders, while covering his broad chest. His trousers were also made of black leather, hugging the muscular curve of his buttocks lovingly and outlining his long, well-muscled legs. As for his groin…

Brynn looked away quickly, blushing. Goddess above, she’d never noticed that part of a male before! Actually, she’d never had much opportunity to notice any part of any male since they were strictly forbidden at the convent. Still, from time to time she’d climbed a tree and looked over the high stone wall which surrounded the Sisters’ land when she'd heard a deliveryman passing, so she wasn’t entirely ignorant of the sex.

She told herself she ought to study his face instead—but there was nothing to study, for he wore a mask. A hammered bronze affair with slits for eyes and mouth and two holes for his nose and little more—certainly nothing to give a clue as to what he looked like under it.

“Oh, it’s him—it’s the Kindred,” Brynn heard one of the ladies beside the Royal Box twittering excitedly.

“Last time he bested ten strong guards, all armed to the teeth,” her companion murmured. “Let’s see if he can beat his own record.”

“But he doesn’t even have a blaster! Just swords.”

“He’s not allowed a blaster—it would be too dangerous. But it doesn’t matter—he doesn’t need one. Watch.”

Looking at the male, now standing in the center of the Arena, Brynn could well believe what she was hearing. This warrior was so huge—who could possibly stand against him? As she watched, he drew a pair of sharp and lethal looking swords with wickedly curving blades. Crossing the deadly weapons over his broad chest, he bowed low to the Royal Box.

Somehow, even though it was impossible to tell with the mask on, Brynn felt he was watching her especially. Another shiver ran through her. Who was he and why did she feel like she’d seen him before?

Seen him before? Don’t be ridiculous, scoffed a little voice inside her head. You’ve scarcely ever seen a male in your life—certainly not up close. And this male you would certainly remember.

Yes, for how could she forget him?

As she watched, a group of other warriors came out of the other side of the Arena. They were all wearing white and they, too, were heavily armed. They ranged themselves against the one in black and though none of them were nearly his size there were so many of them.

“Fifteen against one,” Brynn heard the lady in the other box remark. “Even for the Kindred that’s going to be a challenge.”

Brynn had to agree. Even as big as he was, how could one lone warrior take down so many?

She soon found out.

They rushed him in a group—the lot of them surrounding him—and it seemed at first as though he must go down. But his curved blades flashed and blood splashed the white leather and pattered to the sandy floor of the Arena like rain. The group fell back—all but five of them which lay twisted in the sand, never to rise again.

Brynn’s breath caught in her throat. She’d never seen such violence before! The Sisters of Chastity and Obedience lived quietly with little physical contact and no physical violence. Once Brynn had witnessed a fight between two other students, but that had mainly been hair-pulling and name-calling. It was nothing like the deadly silence of the huge warrior as he cut down his opponents one by one.

“How does he do that?” the woman in the next box wondered aloud. “It’s like he knows exactly where to strike each one. Look at him—he almost never strikes twice. He doesn’t have to!”

“It’s his gift—some say his curse,” her companion murmured darkly. “To always see the weakest point of any enemy and exploit it with deadly accuracy. Why do you think his Majesty bought him in the first place?”

Bought him? Brynn frowned as she watched the bloody spectacle below. So the huge warrior was a slave? But she saw no pain collar circling his thick neck, such as the others who were bound to her father’s service wore. How could he be a slave with no collar? He did have a thick black band around his left wrist—which was hard to see because his arms were rising and falling so tirelessly as he fought—but other than that she could see no mark of slavery upon him.

“Enough!” her father roared as the last of the Kindred’s opponents fell. “This bores me—give him a real challenge!”

A real challenge? Brynn thought as attendants hurriedly cleared the fallen bodies in red-spattered white off the bloody sand. What can be more of a challenge than fifteen against one? Are they planning to double the number?

But only one came out of the Arena gates in answer to her father’s call. Only one, but it wasn’t humanoid.

Brynn bit her lower lip in terror as she saw the huge, sleek form of a zanther prowl into the ring below. It sniffed the blood-soaked sand and curled its lip back, showing teeth as long and bright as knives.

Then it saw the Kindred.

Its deep maroon scales, which had been lying sleek against its muscular frame, stuck out in every direction and a low hissing rattle of warning came from them. It lowered its head and narrowed its golden, slitted eyes, sizing up the male in front of it. A forked tongue escaped its mouth and extended towards the warrior, as though tasting the air around him.

If the massive warrior was worried, Brynn could see no sign of it. He simply stood there, sizing up his new opponent.

Looking for weaknesses? Brynn wondered, remembering what the people in the next box had been saying. But what weaknesses could such a terrifying beast have? It was huge—its head coming up to the Kindred’s shoulder. If it stood on its hind legs it would be more than twice as tall as him. What chance did he have against those razor sharp fangs and curving claws?

The two circled each other and Brynn wondered if the Kindred was waiting for the beast to spring. But then, to her astonishment, he struck first. Rushing forward, he slid the blade of one sword between the raised scales, just at the beast’s right shoulder.

The zanther roared in anger and swiped at the warrior, who danced back easily, out of the way of its massive claws. It ran at him but plainly it was hurt—somehow the Kindred had found the one weak spot in its armored hide and had exploited it. He led it around the Arena, moving with grace and ease despite his size and never displaying any fear. He might almost have been a male playing with a canis—except the zanther was about twenty times as large and deadly as those common household pets were.

Finally, the beast had had enough of his teasing. Roaring angrily, it snapped at him and this time the Kindred wasn’t quite fast enough. The long teeth got his hand—his fingers at least—and when he managed to pull away his hand was bloody.

“He’s lost a finger—maybe two!” the lady in the other box exclaimed.

“No matter,” her companion answered. “He can grow them back. Watch—he’ll keep on fighting. It doesn’t even bother him.”

Brynn didn’t see how losing a finger couldn’t matter but just then the confrontation in the Area came to a climax.

The zanther growled and gathered itself for a leap. Just as it did, the massive Kindred appeared to stumble and go down on one knee. Seeing its opportunity, the zanther sprang. The warrior crouched low and, as the beast passed over his head, he slid one curving blade into its heart.

The zanther collapsed in mid-spring, its massive weight sagging, forcing the warrior to the ground beneath it.

It will crush him! Brynn thought, her heart in her throat. The weight of it—it’s too heavy!

She became aware that she was leaning forward, gripping the edge of the Royal Box with both hands in tense anticipation. The silver filigree crown fell off her head and landed in the bloody sand, causing the people around her to gasp. But even though she knew she must be making a spectacle, she found she couldn’t stop.

Is he all right? Where is he? Where—

Suddenly the zanther’s carcass heaved as though it was coming back to life. Brynn gave a little cry and clapped her hand to her mouth. But it was only the Kindred—he rolled out from beneath the huge animal and came to stand before the Royal Box, not even breathing hard.

Leaning forward as she was, Brynn was no more than three feet from him. He was covered in blood—both the red of his humanoid opponents and the black ichor of the zanther. Even his mask was streaked with it.

His mask…how she longed to see under it! And yet, she dreaded it too.

“Your Majesties…” He bowed low, his rich, deep voice somewhat muffled by the bronze.

“Well done.” The King nodded gravely. “You never disappoint, Varin. And now your true job begins.”

“Indeed—I have trained all my life for it. I have not lived until now,” the warrior rumbled.

Again, Brynn got the feeling he was looking at her as he spoke. She wished she could be certain. Even more, she wished she could sit back but somehow she felt frozen to the spot, staring down at the massive warrior just a few feet below her.

“For heaven's sakes, have him lift the mask,” the Queen snapped waspishly. “Who can understand him otherwise?”

“My apologies, your Majesty.” The Kindred sheathed his swords and one blood-stained hand came up to raise the bronze plate that had shielded his face during battle.

As his face was revealed, Brynn felt something break loose inside her. A memory that had floated in the back of her subconscious all of her life, like a boat on black waters, suddenly snapped its moorings and rushed into the forefront of her mind.

“You,” she whispered, for the face revealed when the mask was removed was well known to her—as well known as her own face in the viewer.

Dark, heavy brows were drawn low over light bronze eyes ringed in black. The straight nose, the sensual mouth, even the small cleft in his strong chin—all these features were known to her.

I dreamed of him, Brynn realized. I’ve dreamed of him every single night. And every day’s waking had erased him, though sometimes she tried to hold the dream. But it was like trying to hold a sunbeam. Until now, she had never seen the massive male outside her sleep. She could scarcely believe it.

“You’re real,” Brynn whispered to him. “You’re really real.”

“You’re just as I saw you, Princess.” His deep voice was a soft rumble that seemed to go straight through her body and vibrate her very soul.

The intensity of his bronze stare was too much. Brynn wanted to sit back but somehow she couldn’t. She clutched at the railing of the Royal Box, feeling cold sweat break out on her brow. The too-tight dress was pinching her, cutting off her air. She couldn’t breathe…couldn’t breathe.

The dream who was not a dream stepped forward, a worried look on his face.

“Princess?” he said. “Mistress? Are you well?”

“I…I…” Brynn’s head swam dizzily. She hadn’t eaten since that morning—just a bit of dry crunda toast—it was all she’d been able to choke down, excited as she was for her Presentation Day at Court. Now she wished she’d tried to eat more. Not that she was hungry—she felt too dizzy and sick for that. She felt herself tilting forward.

“Honestly Brynnalla, whatever are you doing?” her Lady-mother the Queen demanded from behind her. But her shrill, nasal voice seemed very far away from the black hole Brynn was falling into.

She swayed dizzily, her fingers losing their grip on the railing.

Goddess, she thought. He’s really real—not a dream at all. Think I’m going to f—

And then everything went gray and she toppled over the side of the Royal Box.

Chapter Four

Varin had sworn to himself he would never touch her.

How could he? He was her sworn protector, nothing more. Not her lover or even her friend—just a guard to stand by and make sure of her safety. Really, it would be better not to even talk to her. Or so he had told himself a thousand times after waking from a dream of her or catching a glimpse of her in a vision.

It wasn’t just his obedience band that stopped him from trying to get close to her—though he well knew it would shock him if he ever tried to lay a hand on her bare skin. It was the knowledge that the Princess was so far above him. As far as the lovely, pale blue moon that rose in Galen Prime’s sky each night. She wasn’t his to have and the pain of that was best born silently and in solitude.

But when she came into the Royal Box and he saw her in person for the first time in eighteen years, his heart ached fiercely, despite his resolutions. He was watching from the interior of the Arena—the staging area where those about to fight and die for the King’s pleasure waited their turn. Even from that distance he recognized her, though seeing her in person was much different from his visions.

She had on a tight red dress that seemed to make her uncomfortable. It emphasized her slim, lovely figure, her small, perfect breasts pressing up and out of the top of the bodice which buttoned tightly around her rib cage. Her hair was unlike the poofy frizz of curls the other court ladies favored. It was long and sleek and silky—the color of midnight. Immediately Varin’s fingers itched to stroke that soft waterfall of black, to feel the long strands whisper over his chest as she laid her head against him.

When he realized what he was thinking, he had curled his hands into fists and frowned.

Hands off, he reminded himself. She’s not for you—she never will be.

The old king, Varin’s master, would marry her off to some royal dolt to seal an alliance—she would be given to another and there was nothing he could do about it. The princess wasn’t his, even though he felt he’d been dreaming about her forever.

He had fought in the Arena for her honor—had even killed the deadly zanther, though he preferred not to. The beast had done him no harm but what could he do? The King decreed it must die so Varin had killed it. But always, even in the heat of battle, his mind was on her—on his princess.

Then, when he came to take his bow before the Royal Box, he thought he saw something in her eyes—her lovely gray eyes that he had dreamed about for years.

“You,” she'd whispered. “You’re real. You’re really real!”

And then she had grown dizzy—her breathing, perhaps constricted by the too-tight bodice that gripped her slim body in an iron fist. She fell and Varin reached instinctively to catch her—breaking the rules he had set for himself in the first five minutes of their meeting.

He cradled her in his arms, oblivious to the gasps of the crowd—oblivious to everything but the female he held and the current of electric pain running through his entire body. It was much worse than the pain of any wound he’d sustained in the fight—even the pain of his lost fingers—which were already regrowing. It was an agony so fierce it threatened to bring him to his knees.

It was the obedience band of course. The bare back of her neck was pressed against the skin of his arm, causing its sensors to go off, telling it that Varin was breaking the rules of non-contact between himself and the one he was sworn to protect.

“Stop,” Varin sent to it—a mental shout. “I can’t help that I’m touching her—I have to hold her. She’s fainted and if you don’t Goddess-damn stop shocking me I’ll drop her and she’ll be hurt!”

Since the obedience band was a quasi-sentient bio-mechanical organism, he knew it had at least a limited capacity to understand him. But would it listen? Gods, if it didn’t…

Just as he felt all his muscles locking up, the fierce electric current of pain lessened, though it didn’t disappear completely. The band appeared to be telling him he could hold the princess to keep her from harm, but he needed to find a way to stop touching her as soon as he could.

Well, then—he would have to find out what was wrong with her. He well remembered the squeezing sensation and the feeling of breathlessness he’d caught from her just before she fainted.

It’s the dress—this Goddess-damned dress someone forced her to wear. He knew instinctively Brynnalla wouldn’t have picked it out for herself. She preferred the long, soft robes of the convent where she had grown up.

The King and Queen were leaning forward and frowning at him but Varin scarcely noticed. Cradling the unconscious princess in one large arm, he began to unfasten the buttons of her bodice with his other hand.

“Wait, slave!” It was the King’s voice, ringing out above the noise of the crowd. “What are you doing?”

“How dare you lay hands on the princess?” the Queen demanded, looking horrified.

“It’s this damn dress,” Varin growled, looking up at the pinched royal faces with a frown. “It’s constricting her breathing—I felt it. She can’t breathe because of it.”

“He can feel her breathing?” the Queen hissed at the King in obvious surprise.

“It’s the bond—he feels everything,” the King replied.

Varin paid them no mind—he was too busy working the tiny buttons loose, giving his princess room to breathe.

When he had the top three or four unbuttoned, revealing her thin, white undershift, her breathing got deeper and her eyelids fluttered open.

“You,” she whispered again and raised a hand to his cheek.

“Princess,” he muttered hoarsely.

The touch of her soft little fingers trailing across his cheek caused his obedience band to shoot agony through him again but Varin scarcely noticed it. He just wanted to keep holding her forever—to never let her go.

But it was not to be. Several of the Court physicians were already bustling across the sand. They brought a hover-stretcher with them, leading it on a strap like a faithful canis. Before he knew it, they were taking her from him, bundling her off to the physician’s corner for treatment.

She gave a little cry when they took her from his arms but Varin knew he had to release her, though it was the last thing he wanted to do. She needed to be seen by one who could help her, even if his heart muttered rebelliously that he was the only one who could do that.

And then she was leaving and there was nothing he could do but watch her go.

* * * * *

Brynn’s eyes fluttered open to see Lady Amalthia leaning over her, a frown look on her pretty face.

“Oh good—you’re finally awake,” she exclaimed impatiently, when Brynn opened her eyes. “My goodness—you gave us all such a scare, fainting like that!”

“I…what?” Brynn put a hand to her head, trying to still the ache that throbbed in her temples.

“You fainted, dear Princess—fell right over the side of the Royal Box into the Arena—don’t you remember? And then that huge Kindred of yours actually caught you!”

“He…he did? Oh—he did!” Suddenly it all came back to her, the feeling that she couldn’t breathe…the sensation of falling…and then waking cradled in his massive arms with those strangely beautiful bronze eyes looking down into her own.

“Yes, he did! Oh my dear, such a scandal!” Lady Amalthia’s bright green eyes went wide. “I mean, everyone knows your father, the King bought him for you when you were just a baby to guard your life. But he’s not ever supposed to touch you like that! Especially not to unbutton your gown! He said it was too tight and that’s why you fainted but I think it was just the excitement of the day—don’t you?”

“Where is he now?” Brynn sat up so suddenly she felt dizzy. “Is he all right? What happened to him?”

“Who—the Kindred?” Lady Amalthia frowned vaguely. “I think I heard he was off having his obedience band tested. It’s supposed to give him a nasty shock if he lays so much as a finger on you but there he was, holding you and trying to take off your dress in front of the whole Arena as brazen as you please! The King wanted to be certain the band was still in working order to keep anything like that from ever happening again.”

“It’s a good thing he did unbutton my gown,” Brynn said sharply, surprising herself with her acrid tone. “I really couldn’t breathe in it—he might have saved my life!” She didn’t add that the shock of seeing the man from her dreams as much as the constricting dress was to blame for her fainting spell. She could only imagine how Amalthia would pounce on that bit of juicy gossip.

Did you hear? The princess has been dreaming of the Kindred all these years! Yes, dreaming of a slave—can you believe it?

No, Brynn thought. Far better to keep that little tidbit of information to herself. Although…had she really dreamed of the huge Kindred? Could it be her imagination? There was one way to find out but she didn’t know if she had the courage to try it…

“Well!” Amalthia said huffily, breaking into her thoughts. Clearly she had been offended by Brynn’s sharp tone. “I’m so sorry you found the dress unsatisfactory, your Majesty. I was only trying to get you something that fit and it’s not my fault you couldn’t fill out the one your Lady-mother the Queen picked for you!’

She glared at Brynn as though it was her fault she didn’t have a voluptuous figure—as though she had chosen to be flat and small and plain.

“Why you—” Brynn took a deep breath, angry words rising to her lips. But then the advice of the Reverend Mother at the convent rose to her mind. Always think before you speak, dear and remember—a soft answer turns away wrath.

She didn’t need Lady Amalthia angry at her right now. In fact, what she needed most was information and she wasn’t going to get it if she made her head lady in waiting upset.

“I’m sorry,” she said, giving the other girl a smile instead of the sharp retort she wanted to spit out. “The dress was lovely. I was just…so overwhelmed by the crowds and noise in the Arena. It’s all so different here from the convent where I was raised.”

That much was true at least. And to Brynn’s relief, her soft, calm words seemed to mollify Lady Amalthia.

“Well,” she said, straightening Brynn’s covers briskly. “I’m certain your Lady-mother the Queen will send the royal tailors in soon to see that you’re fitted for something that suits you.” She smiled sweetly. “They’ll just have to make everything extra small.”

“I’m sure,” Brynn murmured, longing for the simple gray robe she’d worn when she was with the Sisters.

Well, maybe if she had something made for her specifically she could at least pick the color—something soft and calm like a blue-gray or a sage-green. But clothes were the last thing on her mind right now.

“Tell me about the Kindred,” she said to Lady Amalthia, who was bustling about with a tray that appeared to contain food and a steaming drink. “Everyone seems to know about him but me. You say my father bought him for me?”

“Yes, when you were just a baby. I don’t blame you if it makes you nervous—the idea of him guarding you. It’s rather like being guarded by a zanther, don’t you think? Ugh!” She shivered. “I know he’s been here since you were a baby but foreigners always make me nervous.”

“Um…I can see how you might feel that way.” Brynn nodded thoughtfully. Truly, the Kindred did appear big and brutal and wild. But the way he had held her so gently…the way those strangely beautiful bronze eyes had looked into her own…

“Here—I’m meant to feed you this.” Amalthia plopped the tray on a little table impatiently and sat on the edge of the bed beside Brynn. “Can you eat or not?”

“If you’ll join me,” Brynn said, seeing the greedy way the other girl was eyeing the contents of the tray. “And keep talking.”

“Oh, of course. Well, let me see—this is how it goes…”

Chapter Five

For several days after the incident at the Arena, Varin stood at his new post—on guard outside the princess’s apartments. After hours of intensely painful testing and multiple explanations on his part, it had been determined to the King’s satisfaction that his obedience cuff was indeed working, so it was safe to allow him to be near Princess Brynnalla.

As if he would ever hurt her! His whole life was devoted to protecting her. But the King—who had bought and trained him for this very purpose—seemed unable to understand the purity of his devotion. In the end, Varin had given up trying to explain and just let the technicians shock him over and over to prove the effectiveness of his cuff.

Now he stood at his post stoically keeping guard, though whenever the princess went in or out with her ladies in waiting, they giggled and whispered, pointing at him and throwing awed glances over their shoulders. Brynnalla, however, simply looked at him—her quiet gray eyes filled with questions.

Varin had the feeling she was trying to get up the nerve to ask those questions soon, but he hoped she never would. It was torture enough to see her every day without being able to touch her—speaking to her, getting close to her in anything but his dreams—would be too much to bear.

It had been different when she was at the convent of the Sisters of Chastity and Obedience. She had been far from him then—a beautiful dream he was always aware of but never able to get close to. Now, every day it felt like his bond pulled him closer to her—a bond he could never truly fulfill.

She would never be his. Like the sun above, it was better to worship from afar than to risk being burned by trying to get too close to her.

But soon the night came when Brynnalla came to him, wanting answers to those questions filling her lovely eyes…

She waited until the hour was late and her ladies were gone—waited until it was dark and silent and there was no one but Varin alone, standing guard in the short hallway that led to her private chamber.

She began by opening the door just a crack. No doubt she thought she was being very quiet but Varin’s sharp Kindred ears caught the slight sound and he felt the tiny breeze that blew from her room’s ventilation unit. Still, he stayed quiet, arms crossed over his chest, gaze straight ahead, giving her time to study him—which she was, avidly. He could feel her soft gray eyes on him almost like a physical touch.

At last she spoke.

“Kindred?” she said, hesitantly. And then, with more force when he didn’t answer her, “Kindred, do you hear me?”

Still he stayed as he was, frozen like a statue, refusing to look at her, refusing to speak. Ignore her, he told himself—as though his throbbing heart would let him do that! Don’t speak to her. It’s better that way. Silence is better.

But the little princess clearly wasn’t in the mood to be ignored. Putting her hands on her slim hips, she marched out of her doorway and came around to stand directly in front of Varin. Tilting her chin back, she looked up at him defiantly.

“Kindred, I am addressing you!”

Varin simply nodded.

The princess took a short, irritated breath and frowned at him. “Then why do you not speak to me?”

Varin shook his head. Silence was better. He would not speak to her—would not allow himself to know her outside of his dreams.

“Kindred,” she said. “I order you to talk to me.” And added, “Please…Varin.”

It wasn’t her order so much as her use of his name—the only name he had ever known, anyway—that finally broke down his resistance. With a sense of bitter-sweet defeat, Varin allowed himself to look at her.

“What would you have me say, your Majesty?” he murmured at last.

“Talk to me!” she exclaimed, clearly gratified to have finally gotten a response. “Tell me things—answer my questions.”

“What questions are those?” Varin asked warily.

“Anything I ask.” She lifted her chin again. “Anything at all. I want you to answer fully and truthfully. Do you swear you will?”

“You might not like the answers,” Varin warned her.

“I don’t care. I want to know the truth.”

“Very well.” He nodded. “I’ll do my best to answer.”

“Good. Now first—are you really a slave?”

“I am.” He nodded.

“But you wear no collar. All the other slaves have pain collars.”

“Don’t need a collar,” Varin growled softly. “I have this…” He lifted his left wrist, showing her the black obedience band circling his wrist, just under the heel of his hand. “And a chip in my back. If it’s not changed once every solar year I’ll die.”

“Oh!” She sucked in her breath, her eyes wide. “Is that…that what keeps you from running off?”

“No.” Varin shook his head. “That’s not the only thing that keeps me here.”

“What, then?” the princess demanded.

Varin sighed. He felt compelled to tell the truth, though he didn’t want to.

“You,” he said simply. There was no use trying to hide it—she wouldn’t stop until he answered her completely. “I stay because of you, Princess. Because I’m yours.”

“Oh…” Her pale cheeks colored prettily and Varin thought how beautiful and fresh and lovely she looked, especially compared with all the ridiculously bejeweled, over-dressed and over-done ladies of the Court. She wore no makeup and her hair was loose around her slim shoulders instead of up on top of her head in a huge, frizzy poof. And her eyes held an innocence he’d never seen in the jaded gazes of her ladies in waiting. Those wide, gray eyes, still so full of questions…

“So it’s true?” she asked at last. “It’s true my father bought you for me when I was just a baby?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“And you’ve been waiting for me ever since?”

He nodded again. “Waiting to guard you. Yes.”

She looked up at him, biting her lush lower lip in a way that was distractingly erotic. A long pause fell. It was silent in the corridor—so silent Varin could hear her heart pounding.

“So nervous, little Princess,” he murmured gently. “Ask me what you want to know—I told you I’d answer.”

“Is it true it hurts you when you…when you touch me?” she whispered at last. “When you caught me after I fell—did that pain you?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “But I would do it again.”

“You would?” She put a hand to her heart, her eyes wide and uncertain. “But…why?”

“I would do anything to keep you from harm. No matter how painful. No matter how deadly,” Varin told her softly. “As I told you, princess, I…am…yours.”

“Oh…” Princess Brynnalla seemed to wilt for a moment, uncertainty overtaking her.

“I told you that you might not like the answers,” Varin reminded her harshly. No doubt as a royal, she didn’t care for the idea of a mere slave being so devoted to her.

“It’s not that,” she said quickly, looking up again. “It’s just…I’ve hardly even ever seen a male before let alone one so…so…” She coughed and blushed. “I mean you’re so big.”

“My size and strength are only to protect you,” he tried to reassure her. “I would never, ever harm you. I hope you can believe me.”

“I do,” she said softly. “I just…I’m trying to understand something.”

“What?” He cocked his head at her.

“Open your vest,” she said suddenly, ignoring his question. “I want to see your chest. Your…” she blushed, her cheeks going rosy red. “Your bare chest,” she finished in a rush.

Silently, Varin complied. When he spread open the black leather to show the broad planes of his bare chest, Princess Brynnalla put her small hands to her mouth to stifle a cry.

“Oh…oh, no,” she whispered.

Varin glanced down at himself, wondering what was troubling her so. His chest looked the same to him as always. Then he saw where her eyes were resting. Written on his left pec in flowing script were the words, “Property of Brynnalla of Galen.”

“This?” he asked, pointing at the old scars. They had been done in fire-ink—a tattooing process that was agonizing to endure because it used an ink that burned into the flesh, branding it permanently. Varin could still feel the sting of the ink burning its way into his skin, could still remember the way he had striven to stand perfectly still that the tattoo artist might not make a mis-stroke. “Is this what’s bothering you?” he asked again. “They did it when I was fifteen cycles old, to mark me as your property—on your birthday, I believe, Princess.”

“I remember,” she whispered, looking up at him and he saw that her soft gray eyes were filled with tears. “I was only eight—I woke up screaming in the night because I saw them hurting you …saw them burning you. Oh, Varin…” her tears spilled over and she buried her face in her hands. “I thought it was just a dream,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know it was true! I’m so sorry…so sorry.”

He couldn’t stand by and see her hurting—couldn’t bear it. He reached for her and somehow she was in his arms, pressing her hot cheek against his chest, the sobs of remorse still wracking her slim shoulders.

His obedience band kicked in of course—pain coursed through him but Varin didn’t care. Though his muscles stiffened with agony, he wrapped his arms around her anyway, pulling her close, wanting to comfort her in any way he could. Gods, her skin was so smooth…her hair so soft and silky against his bare skin, just as he’d known it would be…

After a moment the band seemed to realize the princess was in pain and he was trying to assuage her hurt, just as he had in the Arena. Reluctantly, the electrical agony began to abate, leaving only a low-level current of discomfort to remind him that the female he was touching was off-limits.

Varin stroked her soft black hair, letting his fingers trail through the long strands as he’d dreamed of. Gods, she smelled so sweet and she felt so soft and fragile in his arms. A feeling of protective possessiveness rose in him too strongly to deny and a low, growling voice inside him whispered, Mine.

“It’s all right, Princess,” he murmured caressingly, still stroking her hair. “It’s all right, little one. Don’t cry.”

His words seemed to wake her up somehow and Princess Brynnalla finally appeared to realize what she was doing. She looked up at him and her eyes grew wide. Suddenly she pulled away.

Varin let her go and the pain stopped. He wanted it back—better to feel the pain and hold her than to be painless with empty arms. Still, he couldn’t expect her to want a slave to hold her for long. She must be shocked that she’d touched him at all.

But when she opened her mouth, her words surprised him.

“I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, looking up at him. “I was just…just crying for the pain you’d been caused on my behalf and then I was hurting you again, just by touching you!”

“I don’t mind,” he said simply. “I told you, I would bear any pain for you.”

“But you shouldn’t have to!” she exclaimed. Angrily, she dashed the tears from her eyes. “Why did they do that to you?” she demanded, pointing at his chest. “And how…” Her voice sank to a whisper. “How did I see it? Why have I been dreaming of you all my life?”

“I don’t know.” Varin spread his hands. “It’s only supposed to be me that dreams of you, Princess. Not the other way ‘round.”

“But how is it possible at all?” she persisted. “How can it be?”

“I don’t know,” he said again and shrugged. “They gave me a drop of your blood when you were just a baby. Ever after that, I had dreams and visions of you. I think it’s the way of my people.”

“Your people? The…the Kindred?” She looked at him curiously. “Who are they? What are they like?”

Varin shook his head. “Don’t know any of that,” he growled softly. “I have no memory of them and no one I’ve talked to seems to know anything about them. In fact, the first memory I have at all is of taking your blood…and then feeling for you.”

“So…they forced you to…to feel this way for me?” She cleared her throat, her cheeks reddening again. “I mean, do you feel for me?”

“Oh yes, Princess…” Varin gave her a steady look, his hands bunching into fists at his sides as he fought with himself not to touch her again, not to take her in his arms and hold her once more. “Oh yes, I feel for you, little one,” he growled.

“Oh.” She looked down at her hands, twisting them together in obvious confusion. “I…I’m sorry,” she said at last, looking up. “For what they did to you in my name. For the way they made you feel.”

“Don’t be,” Varin told her softly. “I’m not sorry. Not one fucking bit.”

If his rough language shocked her, she didn’t show it. She just held his gaze for a long moment, her gray eyes searching his as though she couldn’t look away. Then, suddenly, her nerve seemed to break. With a little cry, she rushed back into her room and closed the door with a slam. Behind the locked panel, Varin could hear her panting—the soft, desperate sounds of an animal that feels cornered.

“Princess?” he murmured, rapping gently on the door. “Princess, you don’t have to be afraid. I’m here to protect you—I’d never harm you.”

“I…I know it.” Her voice sounded high and breathless. “I’m sorry. I…I’m tired now. I must rest. Good night!”

“Good night, my Mistress,” he said formally, hoping to put her more at ease. “Sleep well knowing I will guard your dreams.”

“Good night…Varin,” she whispered at last.

He stood at the wooden panel, his hand pressed against it for a long time. And somehow, he knew she was doing the same—pressing against the door on her side, afraid to come out but unwilling to leave just yet.

How he longed to touch her again…but he knew it was impossible. This was the closest he could come and so he stood there, wishing to hold her once more and knowing he never could.

Chapter Six

“I will guard your dreams,” he had said but Brynn thought he should have said, “I will invade your dreams.” Because that was what he did.

Now that the veil was lifted and her mind’s eye was opened, she dreamed of Varin every night, whether she wanted to or not.

She dreamed of him guarding her door as she slept, standing silent and watchful—challenging anyone who came near. She dreamed of him on the practice field, sweat stinging his eyes as he trained tirelessly, the hot sunlight glinting off his weapons as he battled opponents—his muscles flexing and sheened with his exertion.

But it was the dreams of him bathing after his practice sessions that bothered her most. In those dreams, she saw him naked—his tall, muscular body beaded with water, the raised black lines of her name on his chest as he lathered himself with soap, his big hands traveling over his skin, washing…caressing…

Several times in these dreams she saw him grasp his shaft in one big hand and pump it, moaning low under his breath. And sometimes she thought she heard him groan her name when the long, hard club of his sex jerked in his palm and overflowed with some white cream she didn’t recognize.

Brynn understood instinctively this was a deeply private act she was watching. She tried hard not to look—knowing from the many lectures she’d received at the convent that what she saw was forbidden. But she found that in her dreams, she was unable to close her eyes or turn away. She was a captive observer and there was nothing she could do to stop it until she woke up.

But when she did finally wake from such dreams, she found herself short of breath and restless—unable to get back to sleep. The tips of her breasts felt achy and tight and the place between her legs—the spot she was forbidden to touch—felt slippery and wet when she pressed her thighs together. And even that—even squeezing her legs tight and close while she remembered Varin's hand on his shaft—produced a kind of pleasure she’d barely dared to dream of back in her safe, narrow bed at the convent. It excited Brynn as nothing ever had before—excited and frightened her.

She didn’t speak to the big Kindred again for a week after their late-night encounter and he, in turn, said nothing to her. But finally the dreams got to her for a simple reason—it occurred to her that if she was able to see Varin while he bathed, he must be able to see her too.

Once the thought was in her head, it wouldn’t leave. It would have to be addressed—as would the matter of the dreams in general, Brynn decided. There must be a way to stop them, right? If there was, she was certain the big Kindred was the only one who knew how.

Brynn gathered her courage and waited until all her ladies in waiting had gone for the night and the palace around her was sleeping. Then she opened the door to her room again and came out to face the Kindred once again.

He stood, silent and stoic, looking straight ahead as he always did. He didn’t speak to Brynn or even follow her with his eyes but somehow she was certain that he was keenly aware of her at all times—attuned to her in a way no other male could ever be. She couldn’t help remembering the warmth of his broad, scratchy chest against her cheek…the dark, masculine spice that seemed to be his natural scent filling her senses…

No, she told herself firmly, pushing the thoughts away. I’m not here for that. I need to ask him about the dreams.

“I need to ask you a question,” she said aloud, looking up at him.

He stirred, like a statue coming to life, and looked down at her.

“Yes, little Princess?” he rumbled, the corners of his mouth curling annoyingly.

“Have you…” Brynn took a deep breath, trying to nerve herself up to it. “Have you seen me naked?” she asked at last, the words coming out in a rush.

He frowned. “Are you asking if I’ve been spying on you as you bathed, Princess?”

“No.” She crossed her arms protectively over her breasts. “No, I…I meant in your dreams.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, his bronze eyes inscrutable.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, be-because,” Brynn stammered. “Because I, uh, I saw…” She broke off, blushing so hard she felt like her cheeks might catch on fire.

“Yes?” He cocked his head to one side, clearly waiting for her to finish.

“Because I saw you bathing. In my dreams,” she rushed on recklessly, wanting to get it all out. “And…and that’s not all I saw you doing!”

“Oh? And what did you see?” he growled softly.

The way he was looking at her was positively hungry. Brynn felt a shiver go through her but somehow she couldn’t stop.

“I saw you…saw you, uh, touching yourself,” she blurted. “Down…down there.” She pointed one finger at the bulge in the leather crotch and felt like her hair might catch on fire from her flaming cheeks.

“So you saw me stroking my shaft in your dreams.” He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling, as though it was of no great importance. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Well…stop it of course!” Brynn exclaimed, shocked that he would even have to ask. “I mean, these dreams—they’re true, right? I…I’m seeing what’s really happening…what you’re really doing during the day when I’m off having dancing lessons and royal etiquette practice and other foolish things I have to do with my ladies in waiting.”

“Princess,” he growled, frowning at her. “You don’t know what you’re asking. A male has needs. So does a female, for that matter.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re going to tell me that you’ve never touched yourself for pleasure?”

“You…you know I haven’t!” Brynn couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. It was so terribly improper and yet somehow she couldn’t seem to extricate herself from it. “You know I haven’t because you see me in your dreams too!” she accused him. “You see everything. When I eat, when I sleep, when I bathe…”

“Ah, so we’re back to that.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, little one, I’ve seen you naked.”

“Don’t call me that!” she flared, suddenly angry because the thought of him seeing her naked made her feel hot and flushed all over. “My name is Princess Brynnalla of Galen and you know it!”

“Yes, I know it,” he said softly, looking down at his chest where her name was burned into his flesh. “Better than most. But I also know I can’t help what I see in my dreams—any more than you can help what you see in yours.”

“But…but what can we do about it? To stop it, I mean. It’s so…so embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing for you to see me naked? Or embarrassing for me to see you naked?” he rumbled. “Because it doesn’t bother me, little one—not a bit. You’re beautiful.”

“No, I’m not!” she exclaimed, stung into refuting his lie. “I’m not anything like the other girls at Court! I’m too short and too little and my breasts are…” She broke off abruptly, suddenly aware of the terrible impropriety she was committing.

“Your breasts are perfect for your size and your size is perfect for you,” Varin said softly. “And no, you don’t look like the other females at Court—that’s part of what makes you so Goddess-damned gorgeous.”

“What?” She looked at him in surprise. “You don’t mean that—you can’t! My hair is all—”

“Soft and silky…” He reached out a hand as though to touch it, then drew back reluctantly. With a short, frustrated breath he put his hands to his sides. Brynn noticed him balling them into fists, as though he was holding himself back from touching her by main force of will.

She bit her lip and took a step back but didn’t leave the hallway. What was going on here? She didn’t know what to think of what he was saying—did he really see her that way? Beautiful even though she was different—beautiful because she was different?

“I’m different too, little one,” he said softly, as though reading her mind. “Not everybody’s meant to fit in. It would be a boring universe if they did.”

“You’re a Kindred,” she whispered, looking up at him. “Whatever that is.”

“And you’re a princess.” He smiled at her—a slight quirking of the corner of his mouth and his bronze eyes looked almost sleepy with amusement. “A beautiful princess who has the world at her feet. Why should you care about the dreams of a slave?”

“Because they’re my dreams too,” Brynn whispered, twisting her fingers together. “And because…because they’re wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently. “The fact that I’ve seen you bathing…or the fact that you’ve seen me, uh, doing more than bathing?”

“Both.” She looked up at him uncertainly. “What were you doing, anyway? I mean…when you were…were…”

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“When you were touching yourself, you…” she paused, trying to think how to go on. Her cheeks were getting red again and she could feel embarrassment trying to overcome her but she needed to know.

“Yes?” he asked again, making a go-on motion with one big hand.

“Your…your shaft got all…it got…it looked so hard,” Brynn stammered. “And then it, uh, jerked and all this…all this white cream came out. What…what was that?”

“Goddess above, give me strength.” He raised his eyes to the vaulted stone ceiling and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Finally he looked back at Brynn. “Didn’t they teach you anything at that convent you were at?” he demanded.

“Of course they did,” Brynn said indignantly. “I learned natural history and mathematics and language and—”

“I meant didn’t they teach you how a male and female come together?” he said, cutting her off.

“Oh, um…you mean to make a baby?”

He nodded. “Or just for pleasure.”

Brynn bit her lip, feeling suddenly hot and flushed all over. “No,” she said at last. “The, uh, Sisters told us that was forbidden knowledge. That the male our fathers picked for us to join with would tell us. Would…” She cleared her throat. “Would show us.”

“So they just expect you to go off with some strange male without even knowing what to expect?” Varin sounded angry now.

“I suppose.” Brynn shrugged. “Why—is that bad?”

“Depends on the male.” There was a growl in his deep voice now and a glint in his bronze eyes, as though he didn’t much like the idea of Brynn with a “strange male” as he had put it.

“There’s been talk that my father is looking for a husband for me,” she said, looking up at Varin. “I would have ruled in his stead if he and my mother hadn’t had the Crown Prince after I was born. But since they have a son, they…they don’t need me. So my father wants to find someone to take me off his hands as soon as possible, I think.”

“I know.” His big fists squeezed tighter. “Goddess damn it, I fucking know.”

“I…I don’t want to get married…joined…unprepared,” Brynn said softly. “And I can’t ask anyone else—they’d be shocked or…or laugh at me. So…will you tell me?”

It was a question she never could have asked her ladies in waiting, though Brynn had a feeling all of them knew the answer already. But if she asked Lady Amalthia what to expect on her joining night the other girl would no doubt go into gales of laughter and then tell on her to the Queen. And whatever else happened, Brynn did not want her mother to know that she was curious about what went on during one’s wedding night.

“Will you?” she asked again, almost begging now.

He sighed. “I shouldn’t…don’t want to shock you. Considering how you’ve been raised…”

“I’ve led a sheltered life, that’s true,” Brynn said, lifting her chin. “But I’m not stupid—just ignorant. And that’s because I’ve been kept ignorant on purpose.”

“True.” He ran a hand through his hair. “All right—I’ll tell you. But this has to stay between us.”

“All right.” Brynn nodded eagerly, then looked around. “But let’s not talk out here in the hall. Come into my chamber.”

He frowned. “I’m not supposed to.”

“You’re not supposed to tell me what you’re about to tell me, either,” Brynn pointed out. “But you said you would.”

“All right, I’ll come in,” Varin decided. “But only just inside the door. And I’ll sit on the floor—there’s no way I’m getting anywhere near your bed.”

Since Brynn had an idea that whatever happened between a male and a female to form a baby happened in bed, this made her blush. But she simply nodded and motioned to the door of her chamber.

“All right—let’s go.”

They settled on the floor just inside her bedroom, Brynn with her legs pulled modestly to the side and her dress smoothed down to hide them and the big Kindred across from her, his own long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. Varin had his back to the stone wall but he leaned forward and looked at her intently.

“First tell me what you do know,” he rumbled. “Or what you think you know, anyway. I’ll try to fill in the blanks and set you straight.”

Brynn bit her lip, wondering for a moment how they had come to be talking about this subject when her original intention had simply been to try and get him to stop the dreams. But since he apparently couldn’t and he knew much more about this than she, it seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. Especially since she’d been curious about it for some time.

“First of all,” she said, trying to explain her ignorance, “You have to know how it was at the convent.”

“I know how it was,” he said quietly. “Up at six for morning devotions, chores at seven, First Meal at eight. Then classes until one when you broke for Mid-day Meal, more classes…more chores…Last Meal, vespers at nine and in bed by nine-thirty with the lights out and no talking allowed.”

“Oh…” Brynn stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “How did you…how can you know so much about me? My dreams of you weren’t nearly that detailed.”

He shrugged. “I got a drop of your blood—you didn’t get any of mine. I think maybe that made my part of our bond stronger.”

“We…we have a bond?” Brynn whispered.

“Technically, I am bound to you, little one,” he rumbled. “I don’t think your royal father knows it goes both ways and I’m pretty sure he’d be upset if he did.”

“Don’t worry,” Brynn assured him. “I won’t tell him. I won’t tell anyone.”

His face darkened. “Don’t want them to know you’re bonded to a slave, right?”

“No, I don’t want them to think I’m crazy,” Brynn snapped. “And if you know as much about me as you claim to, you’ll know I lived my first eighteen years in the convent as a kind of slave—I had to do everything the Sisters ordered and there was no getting out of it. And now I’ll have to marry whoever my father decides to sell me off to—so how is that much different from your situation, I’d like to know? I mean…” She felt her cheeks go hot. “Aside from the whole burning my name into your chest—no one did that to me.”

“I told you, I don’t mind about that,” he said, frowning. “I’m proud to wear your name on my body—proud to be known as yours. I just didn’t think you’d be equally proud to be mine. Not that you are,” he added quickly.

“But I am yours…in a way,” Brynn whispered, biting her lip. “I mean—you’re in my dreams, the same way I’m in yours. That’s a kind of belonging, isn’t it?”

“I suppose you’re right.” He nodded. “I’m sorry if it bothers you, Princess. As I said before, I truly can’t help it.”

“It doesn’t bother me so much…most of the time,” she admitted, blushing.

“Except when you see me doing ‘forbidden’ things,” he rumbled, his bronze eyes going sleepy with amusement again. “Although you’re pretty damn eager to learn about those forbidden things, right?”

“I just want to know what’s what,” Brynn said shortly. “We were never allowed to talk about anything like that in the convent. We didn’t get to watch any vids either, except religious ones that had morals about obeying your parents and never getting out of line.”

“So…none of the other girls had any ideas about males and females either?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

Brynn spread her hands. “How could they? The convent only accepts babies and once you’re in, you can’t leave until your eighteenth birthday. Almost nobody comes to visit, either.” She looked down at her hands. “I know my parents never came. Not once. I always thought they were busy but now…now I think they just didn’t care enough.”

“I’m sorry, Brynn,” he murmured, surprising her by calling her by the nickname she’d gone by in the convent. “I would have visited you if I could have—I thought of you every day you were there and I was here.”

“I guess you must have.” She looked up at him, still twisting her fingers. “So…back to what we were, uh, talking about—nobody knew anything although we did speculate sometimes. After lights out, of course, when we were sure the Sisters were out of earshot.”

“Oh? And what did you speculate?” He leaned back against the stone wall and crossed his arms over his broad chest, making his muscles ripple.

“We…Myra Thornbottom thought it had to do with a male’s shaft, uh, poking you.”

She’d been afraid he would laugh but Varin only nodded thoughtfully.

“So far not bad. Go on—poking you where?”

“Um…” Brynn coughed. “In your belly button?”

This time he did laugh, though he was nice enough to try and turn it into a cough.

“Sorry, no.” He shook his head. “Try again.”

“Lower?” Brynn guessed. “Between…between your legs?”

Slowly, he nodded, his bronze eyes fixed on hers.

“I thought so.” Brynn squeezed her fingers together nervously. “I knew it had to be something like that—somewhere forbidden. It doesn’t feel good when you touch your belly button like it does when you—” She broke off suddenly, feeling her cheeks get hot.

“I thought you didn’t touch yourself for pleasure, Princess,” Varin rumbled softly. “Did you lie to me?”

“I…I only did it once or…or twice.” She felt like her tongue was stumbling as she tried to explain. “It was a punishable offense—you could get kicked out of the convent for it! But some nights I felt so restless.”

“So you touched yourself to ease the tension—made yourself come so you could sleep better?” He made it sound so reasonable.

“Made myself what?” Brynn asked, frowning.

“You reached the peak? Found the ultimate pleasure? Saw stars? Had the big O?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Any of this ringing a bell, Princess?”

“No,” Brynn admitted. “I mean, it felt good—too good, actually. I knew it was forbidden so I stopped before…before anything, uh, happened.”

“Hmm…I used to dream of you tossing and turning sometimes,” the big Kindred admitted. “But of course you were always covered by blankets.”

“Thank goodness I was!” Brynn exclaimed. The idea of the big Kindred watching her touch her forbidden area was excruciatingly embarrassing.

“Why, Princess? You’re ashamed to let me see you petting your soft little pussy?” he murmured and this time his eyes looked sleepy with something other than amusement—maybe with desire, Brynn realized. It made her feel shocked and hot and cold all at the same time to think that the big Kindred might think of her that way.

“Well…yes,” she said, feeling suddenly breathless. “Is…is that what you call it? A woman’s downstairs area, I mean?”

He burst out laughing—a deep, rolling rumble that seemed to go right through her. “Is that what you call it?” he asked when Brynn glared at him. “Her downstairs area?”

“It’s what the Sisters called it,” Brynn explained stiffly. “When they had to tell us about, you know, our monthly cycles and that kind of thing.”

“And they didn’t explain then about making love?” he asked, raising an eyebrow again.

“They just said our bodies were able to have babies once we started our cycle,” Brynn explained, blushing. “But they wouldn’t explain how or why you might get one.” She looked at her hands. “I was terribly afraid I might end up with one—a baby I mean—after I started mine. I thought that was all it took—just to have your cycle.”

“Afraid not—there has to be a male involved,” Varin said dryly.

“Yes, but how?” Brynn leaned forward. “I mean, does all he have to do is just poke you there once? And then you’re automatically pregnant? Or what?”

“Uh…” He shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. “There’s a little more to it than that. See…the male’s shaft has to actually go inside.”

“What?” Brynn was aghast. “But how? I mean, in my dreams you’re so big. And my…my pussy…” She blushed so hard she felt faint as she spoke the forbidden word but she made herself go on. “Well, it’s just not…not that big.”

“It stretches to receive a male’s shaft,” he explained softly. “If the male has taken the time to make you ready, that is.”

“Really?” Brynn’s heart was pounding very hard—so hard it seemed to shake her entire body. “But how…how could a male make you ready?”

Varin looked up at her, his bronze eyes blazing.

“By touching you…stroking you…licking you.” His voice was a soft growl.

“Licking me?” Surely he couldn’t mean what she thought he meant—could he?

“Tasting you,” he growled softly. “Spreading your thighs and tasting your sweet pussy until you come all over his mouth. That gets you ready to take his shaft deep inside your soft little body. Do you understand now?”

“Yes, I…I think so.” Brynn wanted to look away but it seemed like the Kindred’s bronze gaze wouldn’t let her go.

“Good,” he murmured. “Any other questions?”

“Just one. I guess it sounds silly but…why? I mean, why does it have to…to go all the way inside?”

The big Kindred rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

“Remember that, uh, ‘cream’ you saw shooting out of the tip of my shaft when you were watching me in your dreams?”

“Yes.” Brynn nodded, trying not to think of how he’d looked, fisting his long, hard shaft until the white cream had overflowed everywhere. “Yes, I remember.”

“Well, that’s my seed—all males have it. A male needs to thrust his shaft as deeply as he can inside a female’s pussy before he shoots it—that plants the seed that takes root in her belly and makes a baby,” he explained. “Now do you understand?”

“I…I think so.” Brynn felt her breath coming short and for some reason she kept imagining herself with Varin’s thick shaft buried to the hilt in her forbidden area. No, not forbidden area and not downstairs area, she told herself. Pussy—his shaft in my pussy.

But just the thought of that made her blush and shift and squeeze her thighs together tightly.

“Does it happen every time?” she wanted to know.

“What? Does he shoot every time or—?”

“No—do you make a baby every time, I mean,” she clarified.

He barked a laugh. “Hell no, little one! If it did, every planet in the universe would be in danger of overpopulation.”

“So you don’t just…just do it for that—to make a baby?”

“No, you do it for pleasure.” The hungry look was back in his bronze eyes as he spoke. “To make each other feel good…to bring your female closer to you.”

“Oh.” Brynn cleared her throat. “Thank you for telling me,” she said at last, not looking at him. “You…you must think I’m horribly ignorant.”

“It’s like you said—you were kept ignorant on purpose,” he murmured. “And besides—you deserve to know what to expect before…” He grimaced. “Before you get joined to whatever male your father picks for you and go off somewhere.”

“Will you…will you come with me? When I get joined and leave here?” Brynn asked softly.

“Yes.” His answer was immediate and fierce. “Yes, Princess—I’m not leaving you—or letting you leave me—again.”

“Oh.” For some reason it made her feel better to think of the big Kindred coming with her to wherever she went. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“Welcome.” He nodded. “If that’s all, you’d probably better get to sleep. You’ve got a big day of dancing lessons and basket weaving and etiquette classes tomorrow.”

“Ha-ha,” Brynn said dryly, recognizing he was making fun of her. It was funny but not funny too, because unfortunately it was true. “And what will you be doing?” she asked him. “Practicing in the Arena?”

“I have to keep my skills sharp—I need to be ready to defend you at any time, Brynn,” he said seriously.

“But you’re only here with me at night,” she pointed out.

“Because that’s when you’re most vulnerable. And your day guards were trained specifically to protect you—so you don’t have to worry,” he assured her.

“But when do you sleep?” Brynn asked.

“I catch a few hours after training—I don’t need much.” He shrugged. “And it doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing in the palace—I can feel your distress if you’re upset. And if I feel that you’re in danger I’ll come to you, always.”

“You’re…you can feel me?” she murmured, surprised.

“Strong emotions, I can. And sometimes I get flashes of you—visions even when I’m not asleep and dreaming. The other day I saw you and that ridiculous Lady Amalthia while she was trying to teach you to arrange flowers. You looked bored—can’t say that I blame you.”

“Lady Amalthia’s beautiful.” Brynn defended her head lady in waiting automatically. She didn’t exactly like or trust her very much, but sadly, Amalthia was the closest thing Brynn had to a friend here in the palace. Or she had been—until she and Varin had begun to talk. But were they friends now, Brynn wondered? Or were she and the big Kindred something else, somehow?

“Don’t fool yourself—Lady Amalthia would stab you in the back as soon as look at you,” Varin said flatly, interrupting her speculation on the complicated nature of their relationship. “In fact, I wouldn’t trust any of your ladies in waiting if I were you—they’re all politically motivated.”

“Who should I trust then? Only you?” Brynn challenged him.

“I’m the only one with your name burned into their flesh, little one,” he pointed out in a low growl. “And the only one so attuned to you I can hear your heartbeat and pick out your scent in a crowded room. Yes, you can trust me. The others…” He shrugged. “Well, just be careful.”

“I will.” Brynn drew her knees up to her chin, being careful to keep her skirt smoothed modestly down. “Thank you for talking to me, Varin. For…explaining things without laughing. Much,” she added.

“I am happy to help, Mistress,” he rumbled, returning to a more formal tone. “Do you require anything else of your slave tonight?”

“No—yes,” she said quickly, changing her mind as she remembered her original purpose. “I want you to…to stop…stop touching yourself,” she said in a rush.

He raised his eyebrows. “So you don’t have to watch me anymore in your dreams? Or because you don’t like what you see?” He indicated his long, muscular form, still propped easily against the door frame.

“It’s not that—you’re very handsome,” Brynn said and then blushed furiously, realizing what she’d said. “I mean—very strong,” she amended quickly. “Your body is very big and strong and…and, uh, muscular.”

“I’ve made myself strong to serve you,” Varin said softly. “But if you like the way my body looks—”

“It’s embarrassing, all right?” Brynn burst out. “And I…when I dream of you doing…doing that, I always wake up feeling so…so…”

“Hot and bothered?” Varin suggested. “Restless?”

“Well…” Brynn thought of how restless she felt, of how her breasts felt sensitive and the place between her thighs—her pussy—felt so hot and wet. “Yes,” she admitted at last. “I guess…that’s one way to put it.”

“I tell you what,” Varin said reasonably. “I’ll stop it—stop touching myself—if you’ll try it yourself, at least once.”

“You…you want me to…”

“Touch yourself,” he growled softly. “Pet your soft little pussy, Brynn. Make yourself come.”

“But…but why?” she whispered, her heart pounding. “Why would you want me to do that?”

“So you can see how good it feels,” he rumbled. “It’s not fair for you to ask me to give it up unless you try it first to see exactly what it is I’ll be giving up.”

“But I told you, I did try it,” she protested.

“Yes, but only for a minute or two and you never made yourself come,” he growled. “That’s the deal—you touch yourself until you come and then see if you still want me to give it up. If you do…” He shrugged. “I will. It’ll be damn hard but I will—but only if you try it first.”

“But…how will I know if I, uh, come?” she asked, feeling bewildered.

“You’ll know.” His bronze eyes were burning and heavy-lidded. “You’ll feel a peak of pleasure and your inner muscles will clench. Your breath will come short and your nipples will get tight. Afterwards you’ll have a feeling of satisfaction—sometimes even sleepiness, as though you’re all done somehow. Well…” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Will you try it?”

“But it’s wrong,” Brynn protested weakly.

“It’s not wrong to give yourself pleasure,” Varin growled. “Why do you think the Goddess gave you a soft little pussy that feels good when you pet it if she didn’t mean for you to touch it? You’re ignoring her gift when you cut yourself off from that pleasure.”

This was pretty much the exact opposite of what Brynn had learned in the convent but somehow, when the big Kindred said it, it made sense. Still, she hesitated.

“Well…” She bit her lip.

“Brynn,” he said softly. “There are no nosy Sisters to come in on you in the middle of the night here. You’re alone in your chamber and I’m out here, guarding your door. I won’t let anyone enter and catch you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I’ll protect you from prying eyes as well as assassins—I swear it.”

“But…you said you could hear my heartbeat…that you were attuned to me,” Brynn protested, thinking of another reason not to do it—not to touch herself. “You said you get visions of me sometimes.”

He shrugged. “You can cover yourself with the blanket if it makes you feel better…more secure. Yes, I’ll hear your elevated heart rate but I hear it when you have a dream that disturbs you too.”

“Will you…” She nibbled her lip. “Will you, uh, feel my pleasure too? You said you could feel strong emotions,” she reminded him.

“I don’t know.” His eyes were suddenly heavy-lidded again. “Do you want me to tell you if I do?”

“I…don’t know,” she whispered.

“Then I won’t tell you unless you ask,” he murmured. “And now, it really is time for you to be getting to bed, Princess.”

He rose and reached down, offering her a hand up.

“I…I guess you’re right.” She looked at his outstretched hand uncertainly. “I’ll hurt you,” she pointed out.

“Don’t care.” He reached for her and Brynn found herself putting her small hand in his much larger one to let him pull her to her feet. She saw a slight tightening of the corner of his sensuous mouth but otherwise he didn’t say anything about the pain.

Brynn wanted to keep touching him for some reason—his big hand was so warm against hers—but she made herself let go quickly, so as not to hurt him more than she had to.

“Good night, little one,” he murmured, stepping out the door. “Remember, you have nothing to fear as long as I’m here to guard you. Sweet dreams.”

Chapter Seven

Brynn didn’t touch herself—not that night, anyway—though she really wanted to. She still felt too guilty and uncertain, wondering if Varin might hear her. Later on, however, she tried to experiment—but she never had satisfactory results or reached the “peak” he had been talking about.

She continued to have dreams of him—though not necessarily of the sweet variety. She still saw the big Kindred going about his daily routine but for several days he seemed to be abstaining from touching himself, which made it easier for her not to feel so restless. She wondered if he was doing it for her sake but didn’t dare to ask during their nightly talks.

For they did talk nightly now. Brynn felt herself drawn to the huge warrior, even though she wasn’t sure it was right to want to feel close to a male, especially a slave. But she found she couldn’t help herself—she wanted to spend time with him. So every night they sat on the floor opposite each other, just inside the doorway of her chambers, talking of everything and nothing.

Varin had a dry sense of humor and that made her laugh and he seemed to know much more of the outside world than she did, even though he was a slave. They didn’t speak of anything forbidden as Brynn still thought of it, which was both a relief and a disappointment at the same time. But she had the feeling the big Kindred had determined not to talk about their earlier topic of conversation unless she brought it up and since she didn’t, they spoke of other things.

There was plenty to talk about, too. Varin was surprisingly knowledgeable about the different couriers and royals in her parents’ court because, as he told Brynn, no one ever bothered to notice if a slave was listening when they spoke. He might as well be an expensive piece of furniture as far as the snooty, high-born nobility of the Galen Court was concerned. As a consequence, he could tell her what political players were close to her parents, who really mattered, and who to watch out for, all of which Brynn found extremely useful at the regular state dinners.

And there was another benefit to her nightly conversations with the big Kindred. Because of his connection to her, Varin could talk to Brynn about the girls she’d left back at the convent—especially the ones she really missed, like Myra who had been her best girl friend.

She had no best girl friend here, Brynn thought ruefully. Though she tried, she couldn’t seem to fit in with her ladies in waiting. Brynn was certain that her parents’ idea of surrounding her with a group of girls her own age was for them to teach her the ways of the Court and include her in the latest fashions and trends while they all grew close in sisterly friendship.

But that wasn’t exactly what happened. Try as she might, the gap between her and her ladies seemed to widen, not narrow, especially now that Lady Amalthia had taken leadership of the little group.

Amalthia, who had at least been nice to Brynn’s face when she had first come to the palace, had apparently decided to discard her sweet outer persona now that she was certain Brynn wasn’t going to suddenly become the darling of the Court, just because of her royal status. She teased Brynn unkindly and made jokes at her expense while she led the other ladies in laughing behind her back. Such cliquish behavior hadn’t been tolerated at the convent and Brynn found herself in a most unpleasant situation with no idea of what to do about it.

One day, almost a week after her second long talk with Varin, things came to a head as Brynn was being fitted for a new gown at the royal tailor.

She was standing patiently on a stool in front of a 3-D viewer while the tailor hummed to herself and fitted the plain silvery gray bodice to Brynn’s chest with pins and tacks.

The other girls were watching and Amalthia, as usual, was laughing behind her hand. Brynn heard her own name spoken—then a volley of unkind giggles.

She clenched her fists at her sides. I’m sick of this! she told herself. And remembered what Varin had said when she haltingly told him of her problem with the other ladies.

“They do it because you let them, little one,” he’d rumbled in that deep voice of his. “You need to stand up for yourself—remind them who’s the princess around here.”

“I don’t know…” Brynn had replied, nibbling her lip uncertainly. “That’s so…confrontational.”

“Sometimes you have to cause a confrontation if you want to solve the problem or get some answers,” he pointed out. “Remember how you marched out of your chamber the first night we spoke and ordered me to talk to you? That was pretty damn confrontational.”

“Yes, but that was different.” Brynn had sighed. “I’m just saying what works in the Arena won’t necessarily work in a group of ladies, Varin.”

“A bully is a bully no matter where you are,” was the big Kindred’s implacable answer. “Don’t let them get away with it, Brynn—call them out.”

Lifting her chin, Brynn decided to take his advice.

“Excuse me,” she said, turning to face the knot of giggling girls behind her. “What did you just say?”

“What?” Amalthia looked up at her, her bright green eyes wide and innocent.

“I said, what did you just say?” Brynn demanded, though her heart was pounding. “I heard my name.”

“Oh—you must have imagined it,” Lady Terga said diplomatically. “We were just—”

“We were just saying the tailor will have to sew a lot of padding into your bodice to make it look like you have a proper figure,” Lady Amalthia finished for her snidely. “They can do that you know—you ought to ask her.” She nodded at the tailor who was red in the face. Clearly she wanted no part of a fight that involved royals and nobles.

For a moment, Brynn was at a loss. She hadn’t expected the other girl to be so openly bitchy. But then she remembered Varin telling her she was beautiful—not because she was like her ladies in waiting, but because she was different. His words gave her courage and she looked down her nose at Amalthia.

“I like my dresses—and my figure—just the way they are, thank you, Lady Amalthia,” she said in her coolest tone, imitating the Reverend Mother from the convent whose voice could turn positively glacial when she was displeased. “I don’t feel the need to put myself on display every available instant.”

Amalthia looked taken aback and for a moment she was almost at a loss for words. She recovered quickly, unfortunately.

“Well, you might at least pick a brighter color,” she said, motioning to the silvery-gray silk the tailor was now draping around Brynn’s slender hips. “That one is so dull and drab although now I come to think of it…” She pursed her lips and cocked her head to one side, as though studying Brynn. “Never mind. It suits you.”

“Yes, it does,” Brynn said, refusing to rise to the insult. “Which is why I picked it—because I don’t always choose to go around looking as gaudy and overly made-up as a preen-bird in heat.”

“You…why you…” This time Amalthia really did seem to be at a loss for words.

“And besides,” Brynn added, going in for the kill. “As the princess, I’m entitled to wear whatever I please.”

But instead of ending the fight by asserting her place, she seemed to have made it worse. At the mention of her title, Amalthia’s poison green eyes sparkled and she smiled unpleasantly.

“Oh yes indeed,” she said sweetly. “You should enjoy being a princess while you can, Brynnalla. Because I’ve heard the King, your royal father, is looking for someone—anyone—to take you off his hands as quickly as possible.”

“He…he’s looking for an advantageous match.” Brynn’s voice faltered but she tried to keep her chin high.

“Oh, please don’t worry, princess dear,” Amalthia hissed. “Of course, you won’t get joined to whoever it is until after your deflowering.”

“My…my what?” Brynn demanded. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt sick. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, just a royal tradition.” Amalthia gave her a poisonous smile. “Never mind though, princess. You’ll find out…soon enough.”

Then she and the rest of the ladies in waiting went off in a gale of giggles and Brynn was left feeling both worried and humiliated and wishing, for the hundredth time, that she was back in the convent of the Sisters of Chastity and Obedience.

What did it mean, anyway—deflowering? Amalthia had said it was some kind of royal tradition and from the smirk on her face, it was probably humiliating in some way. She imagined wearing a ridiculous flouncy green gown, like the kind favored at Court, covered in some kind of flowers that her groom-to-be would have to pick off while everyone watched. That would be embarrassing…

Brynn pushed it from her mind. She had enough to worry about without agonizing about the future. And anyway, though the rumor certainly was that her father was taking offers for her hand in marriage, she hadn’t heard that he’d accepted anyone yet. So maybe her joining and all the traditions and bother that went with it were far in the future. Brynn hoped so, but she really didn’t care. As long as she had Varin at her side, she felt she would be safe no matter who she joined with or where she went. She would simply have to wait and worry about the future when it happened.

That night she tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep—restless again and not just because of the usual reasons. She’d had a short, unsatisfying talk with Varin that evening—it seemed as though he was tense and on edge, though she couldn’t tell why. Which was one reason Brynn hadn’t asked him about what Amalthia had said, though that ominous word—deflowering—still rang in her mind.

At last she fell asleep but instead of dreaming of Varin practicing in the Arena, she found herself somewhere else entirely…

She was in a dark cave of some kind—a humid, close tunnel that felt too warm and stank of something awful. Garbage? No—rotting flesh, Brynn realized. It smelled the same way it had in the music room at the convent after a rat had died behind the wall.

Brynn shivered with disgust and covered her nose. All around her was a low buzzing hum that seemed somehow organic although she couldn’t exactly say why.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” She stepped carefully, finding that her slippers sank into the soggy ground in a most unpleasant way. When she reached down to feel what she was standing in, her fingers came away sticky and the smell on them was sweet and meaty. Disgusted, she wiped her hand on her skirts and called out again. But her voice didn’t carry very far—it seemed to fall flat in the moist, warm closeness.

Brynn began to feel afraid.

“Hello?” she whispered, taking another step. Still no one answered. Suddenly the narrow tunnel opened out into a large, dim room. The humming sound grew louder but she still couldn’t see what was making the noise. There was a gust of foul-smelling wind against her face and something flew past her—something huge.

Brynn gave a cry and dodged to the side. Her hand found the wall and she followed it blindly, letting her fingertips trail along it as she walked, looking for something—anything—that might lead her out of here, wherever “here” was.

After following the wall, which was filled with cool, bumpy rocks for some time, Brynn saw something pale that glimmered in the dim light and caught her attention. She dared to take a step towards it and saw it was embedded in the wall she’d been following but she still couldn’t quite make it out.

Stepping closer, she saw that it was a white rock but it had strange hollows in it. And the curve of it was somehow familiar.

The light got a little brighter and suddenly she saw the object for what it was—a skull. Looking at it in horror, Brynn realized the wall was filled with skulls—made of skulls. They were the cool, bumpy things she’d been running her fingers over as she felt for a way out.

“Oh,” she whispered, snatching her hand away. “Oh, Goddess above…”

And then the eyes of the first skull opened—although how it could have eyes in the black pits of its sockets, Brynn didn’t know. They flashed poison green at her and the white bone jaw unhinged and talked.

“Kill me,” it said, and it spoke with the Lady Amalthia’s voice. “Kill me, Brynn—I want to die. I’m dead already—we all are. Kill me!”

Brynn woke with a scream on her lips and suddenly Varin was there, a naked sword in his hand, scanning the darkness for threats.

“What is it? What happened?” he asked in a low, tense voice. “I felt your distress and then I heard you scream. Is someone here?”

“N-no…” Brynn gulped, trying to push back tears. “It was a dream” she said, trying to reassure herself as much as him. “It was only a dream…only a dream, oh Goddess.”

“Brynn?” The big Kindred sheathed his sword and sat on the edge of her bed. The bluish-silver light from Galen’s moon showed a worried expression on his face. “You all right?” he asked her softly. “Want to talk about it?”

Brynn didn’t. What she wanted to do was crawl across her bed and into his massive arms for comfort. She was already reaching for him when she remembered his obedience band. Not wanting to hurt him, she drew back and wrapped her arms around her knees instead, squeezing herself tight to try and stop the shivers that coursed through her.

“Brynn?” he said again. “Come on, little one—talk to me. Tell me what you saw.”

Hesitantly, she did, stumbling over the words as she tried to describe the terror she’d felt. Varin’s face grew dark as he listened and he frowned when she came to the part about the skull speaking in Amalthia’s voice.

“It was awful,” she whispered. “And…and I feel so terrible for having it. Amalthia was being so nasty to me today but I don’t…don’t wish her dead. I mean, I don’t really want to kill her.”

“Of course you don’t—you’re too innocent to take a life,” he growled. “But I don’t like your dream. It feels…wrong.”

“It felt wrong to me too!” Brynn exclaimed. “And it was so real. I could smell that rotten smell that comes when something has died. And the ground under my feet was squishy and sticky and smelled like raw meat. And the skulls felt…” She trailed off, shivering—unable to talk about the bumpy, smooth texture under her fingertips.

“I don’t like it,” Varin growled. “But there’s nothing we can do about it now. I’ll see if I dream it too—see what you saw—next time I rest. For now it’s best you try to get back to sleep, Princess.”

“But what if it comes back?” Brynn protested. “I…I just can’t go back to sleep right now. Please…” She leaned forward, still wishing she could touch him. Varin leaned towards her as well and she had the idea he was wishing the same thing. “Please, stay with me a little while, Varin,” she whispered. “Talk to me. We…we didn’t talk much tonight.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve just been kind of…on edge lately.”

“Why?” Brynn asked, honestly curious. She tried to laugh. “Are you having the same kinds of problems in the Arena when you practice that I’m having with my ladies in waiting?”

He smiled briefly, his teeth glinting white in the moonlight.

“Hardly, although there are some pretty tough sons-of-bitches down in the training rings. But I’d rather fight any one of them any day than have a bunch of mean girls following me around all the time.”

“I agree,” Brynn said wholeheartedly. “Even if I don’t know how to fight.”

Varin frowned. “You should learn. It’s not always a safe world for females.”

“But I have you to protect me,” Brynn said softly.

“I know, little one.” He sighed unhappily. “But there are some things I can’t protect you from.”

“Like what?” Brynn asked.

“The male you’re going to join with—whenever your father picks one,” Varin rumbled, scowling. “I’ll be with you every step of the way but I won’t be allowed into your marriage chamber with you, little one.”

“Oh,” Brynn whispered in a small voice. She thought of how the big Kindred had explained making love—of letting a male thrust his shaft between her legs and shoot his seed inside her. But when she imagined those things, it was always Varin’s face she saw above her, his deep, growling voice in her ear. She didn’t even want to try to imagine anyone else doing that to her, she realized. The very idea made her feel shaky and sick.

“I’m sorry, Princess—I didn’t mean to distress you.” Varin reached for her again, as though he couldn’t help it. His hand landed benignly on her foot, which was covered by the blanket and he squeezed comfortingly.

“Don’t—I don’t want to hurt you,” Brynn protested, but she couldn’t quite make herself move away from his touch. How she wished she could feel his warm arms wrapped around her!

“Doesn’t hurt as long as it’s not bare skin,” Varin told her. “But I’ll leave you alone if you want.”

“Really?” Brynn straightened up. “Your…your obedience band doesn’t shock you if you’re not touching my bare skin?”

“That’s the way it works,” he said simply, lifting his left arm to show the black band. “It senses skin-to-skin contact between you and me and lets me know I need to keep my hands off.”

“But you’re not hurting now?” Brynn looked down at his hand, still resting lightly on her foot.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Good—I’m so glad.” Brynn gathered the sheet, which had become tangled and twisted during her nightmare, and wrapped it firmly around her shoulders. Then she looked at the big Kindred appealingly. “Varin,” she said in a small voice. “Would you…could you…come over here? Come closer to me—beside me?” She patted the thick gelafoam mattress appealingly. “Please?”

He sighed. “Gods, little one—I really shouldn’t. Shouldn’t be sitting here on your bed at all, let alone getting closer.”

“Please?” Brynn whispered again and shivered. “That was such an awful dream and I just…just need some company right now.”

He seemed to weigh the consequences for a moment, then sighed.

“All right. I shouldn’t but I will.”

“Thank you,” Brynn murmured gratefully.

Before she knew it, his big, muscular body was right beside her own smaller, sheet-wrapped one, and she was leaning against his side feeling incredibly warm and comforted.

“Better, little one?” he asked, draping an arm around her shoulders.

“Mmm…so much better,” Brynn said, cuddling against him. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“Nope—no bare skin.” He pulled her closer and she sighed and relaxed against him. Goddess above but he smelled so good. Like spice and leather and clean, masculine musk. She felt incredibly tiny and secure curled in the circle of his arm—as though nothing could ever hurt her because her Kindred would always be there to protect her.

It amazed her that she could be so comfortable with him when all other males seemed like strange and frightening creatures to her convent-trained eyes. But Varin felt like safety—felt like home.

She leaned her head against the left side of his chest—the side marked with her name—and listened to the steady deep drumming of his heart. It was almost enough to lull her to sleep but then Brynn thought of something she wanted to ask him.

“Varin?” she murmured, tilting her chin to look up at him.

“Mmm?” He sounded relaxed but alert, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, just his enormous black boots hanging off the side so as not to mark the sheets.

“You never told me why you were so tense,” Brynn said.

“Hmm?” He frowned slightly, looking down at her.

“When you apologized for being short with me earlier,” Brynn reminded him. “You said you were tense—on edge—but you didn’t say why.”

“Oh, well…” He shifted, his muscular bulk making the bed creak. “I…don’t know if I should say.”

“Why not? We talk about everything else,” Brynn pointed out. “You’re my best friend here—my only friend.”

“Friend. Right.” He sighed. “Don’t you mean slave?”

“You know I don’t think of you the way the others do,” Brynn said. “We know each other now. And in a way—I guess because of the dreams—it seems like we’ve always known each other.”

“And I’ve always felt…the way I feel for you,” he said in a soft, low voice.

Brynn’s heart began to pound for some reason.

“Oh? And…and how do you feel about me?”

Varin rubbed the back of his neck and shifted again. For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“Like any good slave feels for his mistress,” he said at last. “Protective. Possessive. Like I want to wrap you up and keep you safe from the whole Goddess damned world.”

“Oh,” Brynn whispered. She had a feeling there was something else he wanted to say and she wished he would say it. But she didn’t know how to ask him so instead she said, “So tell me why you’ve been tense? You promised you would.”

“No I didn’t. Now you’re putting words in my mouth.” He rumbled soft laughter that vibrated her entire body since she was leaning against him.

“Only a little,” Brynn protested. “But come on—please tell me. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Now there’s a first—the Mistress offering to help her slave,” he murmured. “At least in the Galen royal palace. But no—there’s nothing.”

“It might help to talk about it, though,” Brynn prodded.

He laughed again. “Persistent little thing, aren’t you? All right—I’ll give you a hint. Have you noticed there’s been something missing from your dreams of me lately?”

“No, I—wait!” Brynn suddenly felt herself blush all over. “You’re…you haven’t…haven’t been stroking your shaft,” she whispered at last. “I mean, not that I’ve seen, anyway.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he rumbled, nodding. “You got it, little one.”

“But…why?” Brynn looked up at him. “I…I thought you liked it. You said it was wrong to deny the pleasure the Goddess gives us the capacity to feel.”

“Yes but you said it bothered you,” he murmured. “And it occurred to me that it wasn’t right for me to, uh, make you watch me doing that. You’re so innocent you didn’t even know about the facts of life—you shouldn’t be watching me stroke my shaft.”

“I’m past the age of consent!” Brynn said indignantly. “And besides…” She was feeling short of breath for some reason but she made herself go on. “I…I guess I don’t really mind so much,” she whispered at last. “Watching you in my dreams, I mean.”

“I thought you did,” Varin said. “After all, you didn’t follow up on the challenge I gave you to try it yourself—at least not that I could see.”

“I…tried a little bit,” Brynn admitted, feeling her cheeks get hot. “Under the covers, like you said.”

“And?” he rumbled, looking down at her.

“And I…couldn’t get there. Couldn’t reach that peak you were talking about.” Brynn blew out a breath. “It was very frustrating.”

“That’s because sex is a tension reliever,” Varin said. “If you can’t get what you need, tension builds up. Frustration too.”

“So you feel tense and irritable when you don’t…don’t stroke yourself?”

He nodded and shrugged. “Sure. Especially if you’re used to doing it on a regular basis.”

Brynn sighed. “I don’t understand why I didn’t ever see you doing it before. But back at the convent, all my dreams of you just seemed to melt away the minute I woke up. Now that I know you…” She gave a little shiver. “They’re so vivid.”

“My dreams of you have always been vivid, Princess,” Varin murmured. “But it’s nice you’re returning the favor.”

“You can do it.” Brynn looked up at him, her face feeling hot. “I mean you can…can start stroking your shaft again. I don’t mind. In fact I think I kind of…” She ducked her head, blushing. “Maybe kind of like it. Like watching you.”

“Mmm…then I’ll be sure to put on a show for you next time.” Varin’s voice was deep and interested. “But what about you? You too nervous to try again, even with me guarding your door?”

“I want to try,” Brynn admitted. “I just don’t seem to know how to…to get there.”

“Well, sometimes it takes a little practice,” Varin rumbled. “But I have something for you I think might help.”

“You do? What?” Brynn sat up, looking at him with interest.

“This.” He dug in the pocket of his tight leather trousers and pulled out a small velvet case, no longer than Brynn’s index finger. He gave it to her and she opened it and looked inside.

There was a tiny cylinder, again about as long as one of her fingers. Brynn picked it out of the case and studied it. The cylinder shone silver in the moonlight and was heavier than it looked.

“What’s this?” she asked, frowning.

“That, Princess, is a tickle-teaser. Small, quiet, and oh-so-discrete,” Varin told her, smiling a little. “I’d be willing to bet every lady in the Court has one—or something like it.”

“A tickle-teaser?” Brynn weighed it in her hand. “It looks a little like a tube of that sticky lip-smear my ladies in waiting are always wearing.” Experimentally, she twisted the cylinder to see if the top would come off and reveal a stick of the cosmetic she’d been talking about.

The top didn’t come off but her twisting did have an effect. The little silver cylinder came to life, buzzing between her fingers like a quiet, busy insect.

“Oh!” Brynn gasped and dropped it.

Varin caught it before it could hit the sheet and handed it back to her, still buzzing.

“Here. Don’t lose it before you can use it.”

“Use it? Use it how?” Brynn looked at the sleek little silver cylinder buzzing in the palm of her hand.

“Where do you think?” The big Kindred’s eyes were sleepy with amusement…and maybe something else.

“On my—oh!” She looked up at him. “Really? That’s what it’s for?”

“Thought you might need it,” he murmured. “I, uh, felt a little of your frustration through my bond to you,” he admitted. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind? No, it’s…it’s very sweet. I just…” She looked down at it again. “I just don’t know how…I mean, I’ve never…”

“Just touch it to your pussy, Princess.” Varin’s voice was a soft, deep growl. “Move it around until you find the right spot and it feels good. Then go until you reach the peak. It’s easy, I promise.” He frowned. “Just be careful not to put it inside you.”

“Inside me? Why?” Brynn looked up at him uncertainly.

“Because of your maiden barrier.”

“Barrier?” Brynn shook her head. This was the first she’d heard of such a thing. But of course, her one and only female anatomy lesson in the convent had been one of the Sisters telling her class that their “downstairs area” was to be left strictly alone except for necessary functions during their cycle. They had said, somewhat confusingly, that a female must remain “intact” or no proper male would ever want her, but Brynn hadn’t had any idea what that meant—nor had the other girls.

“You’ve never been with a male, which makes you a virgin,” Varin explained, clearly seeing her confused expression. “You probably have a barrier inside you, a little way inside the entrance to your pussy—you should leave that alone.”

“Why?” Brynn asked.

He sighed. “I don’t want to scare you but it might hurt if you tear it or you might bleed. And…” He spoke reluctantly now. “Some people believe it should be for your husband—the male you join with—to rid you of it. That’s what your people think now, anyway.” His face went dark. “They used to have…other ideas.”

“What ideas?” Brynn wanted to know.

“Never mind.” Varin squeezed her shoulders gently. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just rub the tickle teaser between your pussy lips without putting it all the way inside you and you’ll be all right, Princess.”

“Between…between my, uh, pussy lips?”

“Mmm-hmm. Isn’t there a place when you touch yourself with your fingers that feels better than anyplace else?” he rumbled, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Well…” Brynn nibbled her lower lip. “There is this little…bump,” she admitted at last. “It’s very…sensitive.”

“That’s your clit, little one.” There was no mistaking the rumble of desire in his deep voice and his eyes were half-lidded and glowing in the dim room. “It’s the part of you that feels the best when you touch it…or when the male you’re with strokes it or licks it. That’s where you want to put the tickle-teaser.”

“Oh,” Brynn whispered. She felt a little shiver of desire go over her. For some reason she had a mental image of Varin doing what he was describing to her, instead of doing it herself. She could almost see him between her legs, spreading her open, sliding the little tickle-teaser or maybe even his tongue between her slippery folds…

The idea made her feel guilty…but not as guilty as she might have supposed. Instead she felt hot and flushed and there was a throbbing between her thighs.

He took his arm from around her and sat up. “Just be sure to turn it off and hide it when you’re done, okay? The case recharges it so you don’t have to worry about running out of power in an…uh inopportune moment.” He laughed.

“All right. But where are you going?” Brynn reached out a hand to stop him before he could get off the bed.

Varin frowned and stood up. “Well, you look like you’re over your nightmare. And I thought you might like some, uh, privacy to play with your new toy.”

“Oh…” Brynn felt her cheeks get hot. “I…I guess so,” she murmured. Already she felt cold and alone in the middle of her big bed without him but she knew it wouldn’t be proper to ask him to stay any longer—especially if she was going to “play” with the gift he’d given her, as he put it.

Varin leaned over and stroked her hot cheek lightly with his knuckles, heedless of the pain it gave him to touch her.

“Enjoy yourself, little one,” he murmured, his bronze eyes half-lidded in the moonlight. “And don’t worry about me seeing you in my dreams—just keep it under the covers.”

“All right.” Brynn felt an almost overwhelming desire to ask him to stay—to ask him to help her use the little silver cylinder—but she knew it wasn’t right. “Good night, Varin,” she murmured. “And…and thank you.”

“Anything for my Mistress,” he said and for a moment, Brynn thought he might kiss her, which would have been dreadfully improper—but nice too. But then he straightened up and left her chamber, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Chapter Eight

After he left, Brynn lay in the darkness, thinking and turning the little tickle-teaser off and on with a twist to its base. Well—it wasn’t entirely dark, she thought—the moonlight was especially bright tonight, gilding everything in her room as it came pouring through her window.

Varin’s words came back to her. “…don’t worry about me seeing you in my dreams—just keep it under the covers,” he’d said. Which was absolutely what she ought to do—if she used the naughty little device at all, Brynn told herself. But then a little voice inside her head spoke up.

What if I do want him to see though?

She felt an immediate sense of guilt—a holdover from her years at the convent, no doubt. The Sisters had been very stern and vigilant—checking to make certain nothing “improper” was going on several times a night.

But when Brynn managed to push the guilt aside, she felt that restless sensation again. The feeling that the tips of her breasts were tight and achy and the place between her thighs—her pussy—was getting wet and hot. What would the buzzing little tickle teaser feel like if she touched it to those areas?

Brynn wanted to find out.

For a moment she felt uncertain then she remembered she wasn’t at the convent anymore. There were no nosy Sisters here to come in on her and condemn her and throw her out if she was caught doing the unthinkable. She had privacy now and a guard at her door to make certain no one bothered her. She could do whatever she wanted and no one but Varin would ever know. The idea made her feel bold and free and more daring than she had ever been in the past.

Throwing back the covers and lifting her silky nightdress, she bared herself completely in the moonlight.

Varin said he had visions of me sometimes, not just dreams.

She wondered if he could see her now. Was he standing just outside her door, eyes front, seeing nothing but the opposite wall? Or was he seeing her naked body, spread out in the silvery moonlight with the little tickle-teaser in her hand?

The idea that he might be watching—that he might be getting a vision of her—made Brynn feel incredibly hot for some reason. Earlier she’d told Lady Amalthia she had no need to put herself on display and that was normally true—she liked to keep herself decently covered while she was at Court. But there was nothing decent about what she was doing now…or what she was about to do.

Experimentally, she put the softly buzzing tip of the silver tickle-teaser to her right nipple. An immediate burst of sensation went through her, making her gasp.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as her little pink peak went tight and tingly. Goddess above—that felt good!

She tried it on the other nipple with a similar result. The jolt of pleasure the little tickle-teaser gave her seemed to travel straight from her nipples to the hot place between her legs—to her pussy.

Brynn played with her nipples some more and then had another thought—what if Varin wasn’t just watching her—what if he should actually come into the room? And then, what if he kissed her there—right where the tickle-teaser was touching?

Of course, she knew it was impossible—his obedience bracelet would never allow him to touch her so intimately. But just picturing his big, muscular form bending over her, his sensuous lips pressed to her nipple…maybe even parting to not just kiss, but suck her tender peak as well…made her so hot she could barely stand it.

Feeling more daring than ever, Brynn ran the little silver cylinder down her trembling belly to the soft little patch of curls between her legs.

At first she was cautious…just rubbing the tip of the tickle-teaser across her outer lips, enjoying the naughty tingle. But her body was aching for more, somehow and she felt like she needed to go further.

Parting her outer lips with trembling fingers, she rubbed the silver cylinder against her inner pussy which was so hot and wet she felt almost swollen with desire.

At once an almost electrical jolt of pleasure ran through her—a feeling so intense she moaned out loud and clamped her thighs together, losing her hold on the teaser. Goddess—it was amazing! Is this what Varin felt when he stroked his shaft until the cream came out? If so, no wonder he missed it!

The thought of that—of the big Kindred taking himself in hand and stroking—made her even hotter and she decided to try again.

The tickle-teaser had fallen out of her grasp and she had to locate it—buzzing quietly to itself in the sheets—before she could go on. When she had it again, she spread herself open and rubbed the tip of it over the sensitive bump Varin had called her clit, just at the top of her pussy. Move it around until you find the right spot and it feels good, Varin had told her. And Brynn somehow knew this was definitely the right spot.

Once again, the jolt of pleasure she got was electric and intense but this time she managed to hold onto the tickle-teaser and keep going. Experimenting, she found that when she rubbed it along the side of her little bump, the pleasure was less intense but easier to bear. And as she rubbed and rubbed, sliding the slick, warm metal over her slippery pussy, the pleasure began to build inside her.

Go until you reach the peak, Varin had said. And Brynn definitely felt she was climbing some kind of internal mountain. As the feelings inside her mounted higher and higher and felt more and more intense she began to shake and tremble, her breath coming in short, staccato pants as her muscles tensed against the incredible sensations.

As she touched herself, she remembered her dreams of Varin stroking his shaft. Of the sleepy, hot look in his eyes and the way his big hand cupped his thick length loosely as he stroked up and down…up and down until his cream spilled out.

A male needs to thrust his shaft as deeply as he can inside a female’s pussy before he shoots, his voice whispered in her head.

She imagined his shaft, pressing where the little tickle-teaser was now…then pressing lower…going inside her…

Suddenly the pleasure grew too great—like water overflowing a cup, Brynn thought. It spilled over, drenching her in sensation as she finally reached the peak Varin had told her about.

Her back arched, her toes curled and she actually saw flashes of light behind her eyes. Seeing stars, she thought dizzily. Wasn’t that one of the ways the big Kindred had described it? Well, she was certainly seeing them now! And she was thinking of him as she did.

“Ah—Goddess!” she cried, unable to help herself. “Oh, Varin! Varin!”

* * * * *

Outside her room, Varin clenched his big hands into fists, holding himself back from going to her. So the Princess was a moaner, hmm? Somehow he’d thought she might be. Underneath that quiet, calm, convent-school-girl innocence he’d sensed she had a very sensuous nature and she just needed someone to help her set it loose.

But it wasn’t just the way she was moaning and gasping that was getting to him—it was the fact that it was his name she was crying out. It made him want to go back in her room, spread her thighs, and lap her creamy little pussy until she came again—this time all over his face.

He knew, of course, that he couldn’t do it. Besides the fact that it would be an invasion of her privacy, his obedience band would probably also shock him into unconsciousness if he tried such an intimate act. But Gods, how he wanted to!

It didn’t help that the intense emotions and sensations she was feeling caused him to have a vision of her on the spot. He could actually see her in the middle of the bed, the moonlight playing over her soft, slim but curvy body as she touched the tickle-teaser to her nipples and rubbed it against her hot little pussy.

Gods, he’d told her to keep it under the covers—what was she doing? She had to know he would see her—if not in a vision then in his dreams later. Had she bared herself for him deliberately, or had she simply gotten so caught up in pleasure she threw off the covers?

Varin didn’t know but he did know he wanted her—so fucking badly it made him ache. She was so desirable, his little Princess. He had been devoted to her for years but now he wanted to do more than just protect her. He ached to hold her soft, sweet body and give her pleasure the way she was giving herself pleasure now. Just the thought of it made his shaft turn to iron in his trousers.

But he could never have her—could never touch her or kiss her the way he longed to. Could never make love to her and truly bond her to him the way every part of him cried out for him to do. It would be endless torture, hearing and seeing her touch herself and call his name without ever being able to go to her. Endless, sweet torture he could do nothing about.

Great going, Varin, he told himself. You just bought yourself a lifetime of sexual frustration by giving her that damn sex toy!

But he couldn’t be too upset, despite the way his shaft was growling with frustration in his trousers. It gave him joy to hear his Mistress’s moans through the wooden panel of her door…pleasure to know that she thought of him as she brought herself to the peak again and again. Because Brynn had already started on round two…

Goddess above, Varin thought ruefully. She must be making up for lost time—all those years she wasn’t allowed to touch herself in that damn convent! As he heard Brynn calling his name again, he set his back against the cold stone wall to cool his heat, kept his eyes straight ahead, and settled in to wait it out.

It was going to be a long fucking night.

Chapter Nine

The next day, Brynn woke up slowly, feeling extremely chilly. She couldn’t understand why until she opened her eyes and saw that she was lying completely nude in the middle of her bed with the morning sun streaming down on her, clearly showing the pink points of her nipples and the swollen outer lips of her pussy.

Goddess above! Brynn grabbed at the sheet to try and cover herself and the little silver tickle-teaser fell out of it and landed in her lap. She snatched it up in a panic, remembering everything—the way she had bared herself—the way she had touched herself—over and over again…

She couldn’t believe what she had done. Last night in the dim and silvery moonlight, she had felt free—unfettered by any of the guilt that she’d felt at the convent or worry about the consequences of her actions. Today, in the light of Galen’s small yellow sun, she felt nervous and embarrassed and ashamed.

What would Varin think of her?

I let him see me naked, she thought as shame washed over her. And not just naked—actually touching myself.

Of course, the big Kindred might not have seen her yet—but even if he hadn’t had a vision of her last night, he certainly would see her later on when he caught a few hours of sleep and had dreams.

I was shameless! Brazen! Wicked, Brynn told herself. She thought of the fire and damnation the Sisters had promised in dire tones if anyone of the girls under their care dared to try touching themselves. Guilt had been given out in daily allotments at the convent—like bread and milk and other rations. Brynn had grown up with it and it was difficult to shake the feeling that she ought to be punished for her act of “self abuse” which was what the Sisters had called it.

Earlier, it hadn’t seemed so bad when she was just exploring a little bit. But last night…I did a lot more than just explore, she admitted to herself. I reached the peak—again and again. Indeed, she still had a tingling feeling between her thighs to attest to exactly how many times she had reached the elusive peak of pleasure the night before. She hadn’t been quite able to do it with her fingers but the little tickle-teaser made it so easy. So easy she was already wanting to do it again…

No! she told herself sternly. It’s wrong—all the Sisters said so. Of course Varin had said the exact opposite—that it was wrong not to take the pleasure the Goddess had granted. But Brynn was pretty sure even if that was true, the Goddess wouldn’t approve of her putting on a show for a male, the way she had done so shamelessly the night before.

What must he think of me? she thought again and covered her face with her hands for a long moment before making herself go take a cold shower.

She couldn’t meet the big Kindred’s eyes when she came out of her room that morning. She just nodded briefly and scurried off down the hallway to the Grand Dining Hall where she was forced to have First Meal with her parents and her ladies in waiting every morning.

All through the meal she felt like everyone who looked at her would know what she had done. Even when Amalthia made jokes at her expense, she ducked her head and ignored the giggling of the other girls, feeling her cheeks get hot and hoping no one noticed.

Her whole day it was the same—the feelings of dread and guilt, like some kind of punishment was coming. Like someone was sure to find out. Several times she looked at the gold chronometer hung on a chain around her neck and wondered where Varin was…what he was doing…if he was sleeping…

It was unbearable.

That night, she would have run straight into her chamber without even speaking to the big Kindred but Varin seemed to sense something was wrong. He moved, standing directly in front of her chamber door so she couldn’t get it.

“Excuse me, Kindred,” she said, staring at his broad chest, encased in his leather, sleeveless vest instead of his eyes. “I…I need to pass and get into my chamber.”

“No, what you need to do is stop and talk to me a minute,” Varin rumbled, not moving an inch. “You ran out of here so fast this morning I knew something had to be wrong. What is it, Brynn?”

Brynn bit her lip. She wanted to talk to him—he was her only friend in the entire, cold, lonely palace. But the guilt had been building up in her all day—making it hard to breathe at times. And she still didn’t know what he thought of her after the wanton display she’d put on—nor did she want to know.

It’s his fault—if he hadn’t given me that tickle-teaser I never would have been so bad! Never would have done those things, she thought mutinously.

Her anger and fear and guilt got the best of her. Lifting her chin, she glared at him.

“I order you to move and let me pass, slave,” she said in her best “I am a royal princess so you’d better obey” voice.

Varin’s bronze eyes widened…then narrowed. He looked about to speak but then he simply shook his head and stood to one side.

“As my Mistress wishes.” His deep voice was cold, with none of the humor she’d come to know and love and his face was as blank and impersonal as the metal mask he’d been wearing the first time she saw him.

Brynn took one look at him and rushed past him, running into her chamber and slamming the door behind her before she threw herself on the bed and cried.

Later…much later…she got up and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. The girl in the viewer had pale cheeks and a guilty look in her big, gray eyes as though she’d been caught stealing or swearing…or abusing herself.

Brynn felt miserable but she knew who to blame for that and it wasn’t the huge warrior standing guard outside her door.

It wasn’t Varin’s fault, what I did, she admitted to herself ruefully. He was trying to help me and I treated him like dirt—like a slave. I should apologize.

Apologizing was something she didn’t see much of at the palace. Lords and Ladies and especially royals never admitted a fault—it was unheard of. Yet, at the convent she’d been taught humility along with guilt. And now she found she couldn’t leave either one behind, though she’d thought—for a time—that she might.

Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hair and looked at herself in the viewer. Yes, apologize—that was what she would do.

But what does he think of me after what he saw? She didn’t know—didn’t want to know—but her fear and shame in facing him didn’t mean she could duck her responsibility.

Going to the door of her chamber, she opened it and looked out. Varin was standing there as always, his jaw set, his eyes facing straight ahead. He wasn’t looking at her at all. Brynn had made almost no noise opening the door but somehow she knew he was aware of her anyway.

“Varin?” she said in a small voice, looking up at him. “Varin, can…can I talk to you?”

He simply stood there without answering, just as he had on the first night she’d dared to approach him.

“Varin?” she said again, going out to stand in front of him.

Still he looked straight ahead—it was as though someone had carved him out of rock.

“Varin, please,” she whispered. “I…I was wrong. I shouldn’t have called you a slave.”

“Why not, Mistress?” he rumbled, still looking straight ahead. “It is what I am—what I have always been and will always be. Just your slave, nothing more.”

“Then…then you never want to be friends anymore?” Brynn felt tears rising in her eyes but she tried to push them back down.

He said nothing.

I’ve lost him, Brynn thought. I’ve hurt him and now he hates me. I’ve lost my only friend.

“Varin,” she whispered. “I…I’m so s-sorry. I never meant…I…” A sob choked her and she couldn’t go on. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again and turned to flee back to her chamber.

“Wait.” His deep voice stopped her before she could open the door. “Wait a minute, little one.”

The tender nickname made her pause and look back hopefully. “Yes?” she whispered.

“Come here.”

He made a motion and Brynn went to stand before him once more, twisting her fingers together and looking down at the little rounded toes of her slippers, peeping out from beneath her dress.

“No, not like that—look at me,” Varin insisted.

“I can’t. Not…not after what I did,” Brynn whispered. “I just…can’t.”

He blew out a breath.

“Look, Princess, I’ve been called a hell of a lot worse than ‘slave’ in this palace since your father bought me. It won’t kill me to hear it one more time.”

“But it wasn’t just that—although that was mean enough,” Brynn protested. “It was…” She cleared her throat, feeling a hot, miserable blush rise to her cheeks. “It was what I did…and how…how I let you see me doing it.” She risked a glance up at him. “You, uh, did see me, didn’t you?”

“Actually, when I dreamed of you today I saw…” He frowned, shaking his head.

“You saw what?” Brynn looked up at him again. His face was dark and worried looking.

“I can’t explain it exactly but it wasn’t the usual dream. It wasn’t something you’d done or something you were doing. Unless—did you go walking in the flower gardens with your ladies today?”

“No.” Brynn shook her head. “We stayed inside and did needlepoint until I thought my fingers were going to fall off. It was miserable.”

“All right.” He nodded. “Because in my dream, the bunch of you were walking in the gardens and then, suddenly, a dark shadow fell over you—you and Amalthia.”

“A shadow?” Brynn frowned. “Like a cloud passing over the sun?”

“Not exactly…” He frowned. “I can’t explain it but I woke reaching for my sword. It felt like a threat.”

“Oh…” Brynn put a hand to her mouth. “That’s so scary—especially after the dream I had last night!”

“You need to be careful—especially any time I’m not with you,” Varin told her sternly. “There have been strange rumors lately—talk about alien scout ships from another sector. I heard the Master of Ships discussing it with the Minister of War the other day when they were down at the Arena placing wagers.”

“Do you think…think something bad is going to happen?” Brynn asked softly.

“I don’t know…but I do know I’ll do everything in my power to protect you from whatever comes, Princess.” He gave her a gentle look. “Try not to be worried. I’ll be right outside your door keeping guard all night. And I’m going to try to be assigned to you during the day too—I want to be as near as possible all the time if something’s going to happen.”

“You’d do that for me? Even after what I did?” Brynn blurted.

He frowned. “I will always protect you, no matter what. And I told you, I am a slave—it doesn’t matter that you called me what I am.”

“It matters to me,” Brynn said softly. “Because I also call you friend and that’s much more important. But…” She bit her lip. “That wasn’t exactly what I was talking about.”

“What then?” He looked honestly mystified.

“I mean…what I did, um, last night,” Brynn clarified. “I…I was…when I was using the…” She shook her head, feeling miserable all over again. Her unhappy expression clearly registered with the big Kindred.

“You mean when you used the tickle-teaser?” he asked, at last catching on. “Is that why you were so upset this morning?”

“Of course it is!” Brynn burst out. “Do you know what they called that at the convent? Self abuse. And I…I did it over and over and over again.”

“I know,” he said dryly. “I could hear you.”

“Goddess above! Was I that loud?” Brynn felt like she wanted to sink into the stone flagstones of the floor with embarrassment.

“You were pretty loud,” Varin admitted. “But there was no one to hear but me. And I have to admit…” One corner of his sensuous mouth curled up. “I kind of enjoyed hearing it. Sounded like you were having a lot of fun in there.”

“But…so you don’t think I’m awful? I mean for…”

“For having a little fun? For giving yourself pleasure? Hell no, little one. I told you—the Goddess gave us our equipment for a reason.”

“But I…you told me to go under the covers,” Brynn felt compelled to confess. “But I didn’t. I…I took them off. And then I lifted my nightdress too. I…” She bit her lip so hard she nearly drew blood. “I wanted you to see me…to see what I was doing,” she admitted at last.

“Gods…” His voice was a low, interested growl. “I wondered about that.”

“I thought you said you didn’t see me in your dream today, though,” Brynn said.

“No, but I did have a vision of you last night.” He ducked his head down to meet her eyes with his own. “You were beautiful, little one—lying there so open and naked in the moonlight.”

“And…you don’t think I’m awful now?” she whispered.

“Why would I? I’m the one who gave you the damn tickle-teaser in the first place,” he growled. “What would give you the idea I’d think you were awful for using it?”

“I don’t know,” Brynn admitted. “The things the Sisters said at the convent, mostly. That touching yourself was wrong…but doing…doing things with a male was even worse.”

“But they wouldn’t tell you what things you weren’t supposed to do, right?” He shook his head disgustedly. “Fucking ridiculous. Did they really call it ‘self abuse’ when you touched yourself?”

Brynn nodded. “Yes.”

“Well then, little one—you abused the Seven Hells out of yourself last night.” His eyes went sleepy with amusement and he rumbled with laughter.

“Varin!” She slapped his arm, only half faking the blow. “Seriously—I’ve felt awful all day wondering what you must think of me for…for putting on a show like that!”

The glint of amusement left his face and his bronze eyes went serious.

“I thought you were beautiful, Princess. Beautiful and wild and free. Look at me…” He lifted her chin with his fingers, though Brynn knew it must hurt him to do so because of his obedience band.

She looked up at him reluctantly. “Yes?”

“Don’t let guilt stand in the way of getting what you want—what you need, little one,” he rumbled. “I don’t believe the Goddess meant us to never use the parts of our body she made for pleasure. And I don’t believe you did anything wrong last night. You were just exploring yourself a little, is all—nobody knows but you and me and I don’t think any less of you for it. So no harm done, all right?”

“All right,” Brynn said reluctantly. But she thought just the same that it would probably be a while before she was able to push the guilt aside long enough to use the tickle teaser again.

“Go to bed,” Varin told her gently. “You’re all worn out from feeling miserable and guilty all day. Get a good night’s sleep and things will look better in the morning.”

“All right. Thank you, Varin. For everything.” She smiled at him, feeling like a huge, heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The Sisters at the convent had made self pleasure seem like such a weighty, awful subject. But to Varin, it was just “having a little fun.” His casual attitude helped take some of the deadly guilt away. It made Brynn think that maybe she’d be able to sleep after all.

“Anything for my Mistress,” he murmured, his eyes seeming to glow in the dim light of the corridor.

Impulsively, Brynn hugged him, making sure that none of her bare skin was touching his. Varin seemed caught off guard at first but then his big arms came around her, pressing her close to his chest, though she was so much shorter than him her head didn’t even come up to his shoulder.

“It’s all right, little one,” he murmured soothingly. “Tomorrow is going to be better—you’ll see.”

Brynn was sure he was right…but the next day was when it happened…

Chapter Ten

They were walking in the gardens when it happened—not because Brynn wanted to, but because Amalthia had insisted on going there to find some pink bloomies to match her dress for the upcoming ball.

Brynn hadn’t wanted to go. Remembering Varin’s dream, she protested that she’d rather stay in and do needlework—although honestly if she never saw another piece of needlework again it would be too soon. But the sense of dread she’d gotten from the big Kindred’s dream—and her own awful nightmare—were too strong to be denied. She did not want to go to the gardens.

It didn’t matter to Amalthia what Brynn wanted, however.

“I would think you would want to find some flowers to match your gown too, Princess,” she said pointedly. “Or no wait—there aren’t any gray flowers.” She giggled nastily and the other ladies in waiting did too—following her lead.

“I don’t need any flowers,” Brynn said, ignoring the insult. “I’m going to stay here in the palace.”

“By yourself?” Amalthia squealed, as though being alone was some kind of a weird, socially unacceptable habit.

“Why not?” Brynn lifted her chin. “We had to spend meditation time by ourselves every day at the convent. I don’t mind being alone.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t because that’s exactly what you’ll be at the ball.” Amalthia’s eyes flashed meanly.

Part of Brynn wanted to quail but she refused to turn tail and run.

“Has it ever occurred to you, Lady Amalthia,” she said, doing her best to look down at the much taller girl. “That my father might marry me to someone quite close? Maybe even someone who’ll take over the rulership of Galen one day?”

“I…ah…” Amalthia looked at her uncertainly.

“Which would make me the Queen,” Brynn pointed out, frowning at the other girl. “And what do you think a queen who’s extremely unhappy with one of her ladies in waiting might do?”

“But…that could never happen. Because the Crown Prince…he…they…” Amalthia turned pale and for a moment Brynn thought she had the other girl on the run. Then two bright spots of color appeared on Amalthia’s cheeks and she glared at Brynn.

“I don’t know what an unhappy queen might do but I certainly know what an unhappy princess does,” she snapped. “She gets just a little too close to her slave.”

“What?” Brynn suddenly felt like her stomach had dropped. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Princess! Don’t pretend you don’t!” Amalthia pointed a finger at her triumphantly. “I saw you hugging that huge, horrid Kindred of yours last night. Saw you hugging a slave of all things! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

Brynn felt sick. She’d been so sure that no one had seen her and Varin. How much did Amalthia know? How long had she been spying?

“I…I don’t know what you mean,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t shake too much. “You’re lying.”

“No, Princess—you’re the one who’s lying. And if you don’t come out to the gardens with me right now and help me find the perfect bloomies for my dress, I’m going to go to your royal father and tell him everything I saw. Everything,” she emphasized.

Oh, Goddess above! Brynn felt like she might be sick or faint or both. What if Amalthia made good on her threat? How much did she know? Did she know about the tickle-teaser? That Brynn and the Big Kindred saw each other in their dreams? Or had she simply seen them hugging the night before?

She didn’t know and there was no way to find out without exposing herself further.

“There’s nothing to tell,” she said, trying to sound casual. “But if you’re that set on finding the perfect flowers, we can go.”

“You should find the perfect flowers too—for your deflowering,” Amalthia said snidely.

That word again. It bothered Brynn but not nearly as much as her worry about Amalthia tattling to the King about Varin.

She ignored the other girl’s taunt and wandered out of the palace casually, headed for the gardens as though she was simply taking a stroll in the pleasant, sunny weather. But inside her heart was pounding like a piston. Gods and Goddess above—what was she going to do?

The other ladies in waiting, who had been watching her exchange with Amalthia with wide eyes, were whispering again. Brynn wondered miserably what gossip they would be spreading next. And all because Amalthia was nosy and nasty and mean for no good reason!

She cast a glance of pure rage at the other girl. Because of her, the King might find out about her bond with Varin. And if he took the big Kindred away from her…

Brynn felt sick at the thought. Although she had known the huge warrior such a short time, their connection felt extraordinarily deep and strong. The idea of losing him now made her feel as though someone had casually suggested cutting off her hand. She could live without it, certainly—but her life would never be the same.

I wish something awful would happen to you! she thought, glaring at her head lady in waiting as she ran giggling through the gardens, filled with flowering plants and bushes and trees. I wish you’d get stung by a honey-tick so that your whole face swells up and you can’t go to the ball!

The nasty thought surprised and shocked her a little, but she couldn’t quite make herself regret it. Insults she could forgive and get over by the dozen. But the idea that Amalthia’s tattling might separate her from the one person she cared about in this whole stupid palace, made her feel half-crazy with anger and worry.

“Here’s a nice bunch of bloomies!” Amalthia exclaimed, going over to a bush with dark blue leaves and bunches of tiny bright pink and purple flowers all clustered together. “They’re just exactly the color off my—”

Suddenly a shadow fell over her and the air was filled with a low, ominous buzzing sound.

What in the world?

Brynn looked up and her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. Diving toward them—toward Amalthia—was a huge black and red thing.

It looked a little like an insect—but who ever heard of an insect as big as a man? It swooped down, its segmented body blocking out the sun for a moment and then its long, sleek abdomen, black striped with blood red, curled under and Brynn saw a barbed stinger as long as her forearm extending from it.

The rest of the ladies in waiting were running and screaming by now but the huge thing was coming right at Amalthia from behind, so she couldn’t see it—only its shadow.

“What’s going on?” Her voice sounded high and annoyed. “What’s the matter with the lot of you? Why are you running around like a bunch of ninnies?”

“Amalthia!” Brynn tried to shout but somehow her voice came out in a whisper instead. “Amalthia duck! Run!” she cried a little louder.

She herself was crouching on the ground now, although she didn’t remember how she had gotten there. She had a vague, terrified idea that if she laid low and didn’t move, she might present less of a target.

“Run?” Amalthia frowned at her. “What are you tal—” The long, wickedly barbed stinger of the thing diving down on her suddenly struck.

Brynn crammed her fist into her mouth to keep from screaming when she saw it thrust into Amalthia’s back and come out the other side, protruding through her chest, directly beside her right shoulder. It’s barbed tip was bloody but there was something else dripping from it as well, some kind of green venom that burned and hissed when it fell on the grass, withering the dark blue stalks of vegetation to smoking black husks.

Only then did Lady Amalthia seem to understand that something terrible had happened. Brynn saw her stare at the barbed stinger protruding from her chest, her green eyes wide in something like amazement.

“What—” she began and then the many, hairy, chitinous legs of the thing that had stung her gripped her by the lovely pale green morning gown she was wearing and began to lift her off the ground.

Amalthia’s eyes went even wider and she began to scream—long, ragged breathless shrieks that echoed through the gardens like alarm bells, pealing and pealing in a never- ending flow of horror.

Brynn wasn’t shrieking but she did feel strangely unreal as she watched Amalthia flailing in the grip of the huge insect thing. It was beating its many pairs of veined, translucent wings now, rising into the sky and taking Amalthia with it.

“No! No! Put me down!” Amalthia shrieked as her feet—clad in dainty green slippers—left the ground.

Taking her—it’s taking her away! Brynn realized with horror. She thought of the skull in her dream, speaking with Amalthia’s voice. “Kill me…we are all dead anyway…Kill me!”

“No!” she shouted and jumped up, running to grab one of Amalthia’s legs through her voluminous skirts to try and yank her back down. For a moment she was in a tug of war with the huge insect with Amalthia shrieking between them, a living rope. But the insect was strong—it ducked its head and gnashed its mandibles at Brynn, catching some strands of her long, black hair in its serrated jaws.

Brynn batted at it in a panic, feeling the small, sharp pain of the hair ripping out of her crown as she lost her grip on Amalthia’s leg. The other girl rose immediately into the air, still shrieking as the thing which had grabbed her beat its wings harder, gaining traction.

“No!” Brynn gasped. She jumped up to reach Amalthia again but all she managed to do was grab her foot. The other girl kicked and her little green slipper came off in Brynn’s hand.

“Princess—get down!” a familiar voice shouted.

Brynn turned to see Varin charging through the garden, sword in hand heedless of the plants and bushes he trampled along the way. He pushed Brynn behind him and swung at the giant stinging thing, still hovering in the air.

Because of his longer reach, he was able to chop off at least one of the beast’s legs. It fell to the ground with a meaty thud and lay there twitching in the blue grass. Like a dry black stick that had somehow come alive, Brynn thought numbly.

But despite the loss of its limb, the creature kept flying, carrying Amalthia higher and higher into the sky, still shrieking as she went. Varin jumped for it but couldn’t reach it again. He swore aloud and shouted for back-up.

More men came running—guards this time which been patrolling at the other end of the gardens. Because they weren’t slaves, they were armed with blasters. They took aim and shot and shot again but none of them could hit the target, though Brynn was fairly sure at least one blast did hit Lady Amalthia. At least, if the huge black hole burned into the skirt of her green gown was any indication.

“Give me that!” Varin growled at the guard who had hit Amalthia instead of the insect. He reached for the man’s blaster but the guard tried to keep it out of reach.

“You’re a slave!” he protested.

“And you’re a fucking horrible shot,” Varin snapped back. He grabbed the blaster anyway, took aim, and fired at the insect thing.

His shot hit home—the insect dipped and it looked like one of its wings was disabled.

But it has so many wings, Brynn thought despairingly. And sure enough, the thing was able to compensate. Though its flight became more erratic, it kept going, taking Amalthia with it, well out of range of the guards’ blasters.

“Goddess damn it to the Seven Hells!” Varin roared. He thrust the blaster back at the startled guard and shouted, “Go get the Master of the Ships! Tell him what happened! Tell him he needs to deploy an armed scout cruiser immediately before that girl is gone beyond our reach. Go!”

The guards gave him a startled look but several of them, including the one Varin had shouted at, went running off, presumably to do what he had ordered.

Only then did the big Kindred turn to Brynn. Taking her by the shoulders, he ducked his head and looked anxiously into her face.

“You okay, little one? It didn’t hurt you, did it?”

“It…it got some of my hair.” Brynn put a hand to the crown of her head. She could still feel the small stinging pain where the hairs had been ripped out. “It…it came out of no where,” she whispered, shaking her head. “It wasn’t there and then…then it was!” She felt numb…shocked. “How…how did you know to come to me?” she asked Varin. “Did you hear my shouting?”

He shook his head. “I felt your fear and came looking for you. I told you to be careful! How could you come out in the gardens after that dream I had about you?”

“I…I didn’t want to,” Brynn whispered. “But Amalthia made me. She…” She dropped her voice. “She saw us hugging last night,” she murmured. “And she threatened to tell the King. It made me so angry…” She clenched her hands into fists—there was a knot forming somewhere in her throat but she couldn’t seem to stop talking. “I…I was just wishing that something awful would happen to her—that…that she would be…would be st-stung…But I didn’t want…I never meant…”

The last word ended in a sob, though she tried to hold it back. Suddenly her vision was blurry and the gardens were swimming around her, just a lot of brightly colored blobs where the flowers should be.

My fault, she thought. It’s my fault she’s gone—I wished it on her!

“Of course it’s not your fault, little one,” Varin said softly and Brynn realized she must have said the words aloud.

The big Kindred gathered her close and held her to his massive chest. He smelled like leather and spice and clean sweat and Brynn guessed he must have been practicing at the Arena when he’d felt something was wrong with her. She hoped none of her bare skin was touching his—she didn’t want to hurt him. But at the moment she felt so overwhelmed she couldn’t do anything but sob as guilt and fear and pain came rushing in.

“It’s okay, little one—get it out,” she heard Varin rumble.

Some of the ladies in waiting had come back now and they and the guards were milling around aimlessly, looking at him and Brynn uncertainly. The ladies looked both shocked by what had happened to Amalthia and scandalized by what was taking place between the Princess and her slave.

“Stop staring and go back inside the palace,” Varin told them, glaring. “You ladies get under cover and stay out of the open. Guards—keep a watch and make sure there aren’t any more of those fucking things—whatever they are—around.”

“And what will you be doing, slave?” asked one guard, who appeared to be the captain—at least if the trim on his uniform was anything to go by. Clearly he resented being given orders by the big Kindred.

“I’m going to do my Goddess damned job and tend to the Princess,” Varin snapped. “Which is what the lot of you were supposed to be doing when she was attacked and nearly killed”

With that, he put an arm around Brynn’s still shaking shoulders and led her back into the palace, heedless of the whispers behind them.

“All right now, it’s all right. You’re safe,” he told her when they finally reached the door to her chamber. “No thanks to those idiotic guards! They’re supposed to be closer to you than that—supposed to be watching you all the time when I’m not there!” His face was as dark as a thundercloud. “Gods damn their eyes—the King is going to hear about this!”

“Will he listen to you?” Brynn asked, swiping at her eyes and trying to get control of herself.

“When it comes to your safety, he’d better,” Varin said darkly. He frowned at her. “Not that you’re much better at listening than your father. I saw you out there—what were you doing, trying to fight that thing off? You could have been killed!”

“I was just trying to pull Amalthia back down,” Brynn explained. She took a deep breath, still trying to calm down. “What was that thing?” she asked Varin in a shaking voice.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Some kind of fucking alien from off-planet is my guess. I’ve never heard that Galen has huge flying insects big enough to carry someone off.”

“It was like your dream,” Brynn told him. “She was just standing there and then its shadow fell over her. And then it…it dived down and stung her—Its stinger pierced all the way through her back and came out the other side—out of her chest!”

She was shaking again and she felt sick, remembering how the barbed tip had protruded from Amalthia’s chest, dripping venom on the grass below.

“All right. Everything is going to be all right,” Varin reassured her. He started to hug her again but Brynn pulled away.

“No.” She swiped at her eyes and looked up and down the hallway. It looked deserted, but how could she be sure? Had Amalthia been the only one watching her? She didn’t know. And they had already put on enough of a show for her nosy, gossipy ladies in waiting out in the gardens. “We have to be careful—remember what I told you about Amalthia seeing us last night?” she whispered to Varin.

The big Kindred frowned. “I was mostly concerned with making sure you weren’t hurt. You said that’s how she got you out in the garden?”

Brynn nodded. “She wanted to go out and pick bloomies but I didn’t. Then she started being nasty, making jokes about ‘deflowering’ whatever that means—”

“Deflowering?” Varin’s eyes narrowed. “Why in the Seven Hells was she talking about that?”

“I don’t know.” Brynn shrugged. “I don’t even know what it is—do you? Is it some kind of ritual? Something I have to do before I get joined with the husband my father picks for me?”

“More like something that gets done to you,” Varin growled, frowning. “It’s a barbaric old custom they used to have before a royal got married. Something about easing the way for the husband to be, so that the female getting married would be extra fertile. But they don’t do it anymore. Don’t even think they still have the equipment.”

“Equipment for what?” Brynn asked, puzzled. “What kind of equipment has to do with picking flowers?”

“You really are innocent, aren’t you, little one?” Varin sighed. “I pray to the Goddess you can stay that way. But never mind. It’s not something you have to worry about.” He shook his head. “So going back to the attack—Amalthia got you all out in the gardens and then that thing swooped down on her?”

“Just like in your dream,” Brynn said again. Only now she remembered that in the big Kindred’s dream it hadn’t been just Amalthia under the shadow.

Me—I was there too, she thought and shivered. Thank goodness that part of Varin’s dream hadn’t come true! But then she thought again of her own dream—Amalthia as a skull, begging for death.

“Ugh, this is horrible,” she exclaimed and put a hand to her cheek. “Poor Amalthia! She was awful but not awful enough to deserve that.” She looked up at Varin hopefully. “Do you think they’ll get to her in time? To save her, I mean?”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You want the truth or do you want to be comforted? Should I speak to you as a friend…or as a slave to his Mistress?”

“Be…be my friend,” Brynn whispered. “Always my friend, Varin.”

She wished she could lean into him and hug him, wished she could draw comfort from his big, warm body but she didn’t dare. She wasn’t sure who might be watching…listening.

“All right.” He nodded grimly. “My best guess? There’ll be no saving her because she’s already dead.”

“You really think so?” Brynn felt her stomach roll over and she had to close her eyes and take a deep breath to keep from being sick.

Varin nodded. “Animal like that is clearly a predator,” he growled. “It saw something it wanted for lunch and took it. Unfortunately for Amalthia, it happened to be her.”

“But…isn’t there any other alternative? Some way she might be all right?” Brynn pleaded.

She’d been wishing harm on the other girl but not harm like this! It made her feel guilty to remember the mean thoughts she’d been thinking just before Amalthia was taken.

“I don’t think there’s any way she could be all right, no,” Varin said shortly. “And the only other alternative is not a good one.”

“What’s that?” Brynn whispered.

“That the thing that took Amalthia isn’t just a predator from another planet—it’s a scout from another planet. And it’s going to go home letting everyone know that the people of Galen are easy prey.”

Chapter Eleven

“No. Absolutely not—a slave is never armed with a blaster. I’ve made exception enough allowing you to train with swords.” The King glared down his hooked nose at Varin, clearly tremendously displeased with the brazen request.

Varin clenched his hands into fists at his sides but tried to keep his expression calm. He’d been waiting days to get this audience with the ruler of Galen—the male who had bought him—and he didn’t want to waste his opportunity with rash words.

“Your Majesty, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t of utmost importance. This is your daughter’s life we’re talking about here! You bought me to protect her—I’m just trying to do my job. And if I’d had a blaster on me the day she was attacked, I could have knocked that damn insect-thing out of the sky and saved the Lady Amalthia too.”

Of the Lady Amalthia there was still no sign though scouting parties had been dispersed in every direction. Not so much as a splash of her blood or a strand of her hair had been found.

To Varin’s way of thinking, that was very bad news. An off-planet creature who had somehow made its way across the void of space just to hunt and feed likely would have finished its meal and left some traces behind. Whereas, a creature who had come to scout, would certainly have taken the hapless Amalthia with it, back to its ship and home planet.

Yet, despite the strange and horrifying attack, nothing had changed. The King, as far as Varin could see, wasn’t fortifying the palace’s defenses or ordering a more alert patrol around the planet. No alarm had been sounded—no citizens had been warned. Quite the opposite—the incident was being hushed up and everyone had strict orders not to spread any gossip about it. It was almost as though the King was deliberately covering it up for some reason—but why?

Varin thought it was probably for the same reason Brynn had been left to grow up in a convent for the first eighteen years of her life. The King and Queen didn’t like to deal with anything they considered onerous or unpleasant—like raising a child or facing the possibility that their world might soon be under attack. Problems ignored were problems defeated—at least in their royal Majesties’ point of view.

“The incident with the Lady Amalthia was…regrettable,” the King said now, breaking Varin’s train of thought. “But I hardly think that breaking protocol and giving a forbidden weapon to a slave is the answer.”

Varin gritted his teeth. “Very well then, your Majesty,” he said through a clenched jaw. “In that case, please allow me to be stationed near the Princess at all times. I know she is most vulnerable at night but it appears that being outside the grounds of the palace in daytime is not safe either.”

“I think not.” The King frowned. “Some rather disturbing reports have come to me, Kindred—some indications that you are already too…shall we say connected to the Princess. I think it would be wise to have her less in your company rather than more.”

“What?” Varin burst out. “Of course I’m connected to Brynn—I’m bonded to her! You saw to that yourself! I would give my life for her but I can’t do that if you don’t let me guard her!”

“That is enough!” the King rapped out, sitting up straighter on his throne and glaring down at Varin. “How dare you speak of the Princess by name? You have been trained and indulged all your life—allowed to become a kind of ‘hero of the realm’ with all your victories in the Arena. But at the end of the day you are still a slave—my slave. Don’t forget who holds the key to your life—I believe your slave chip needs to be changed quite soon, does it not?”

“It does,” Varin acknowledged, his voice a low growl. “But your Majesty, I’m not here on my own account. I just want to see that the Princess is well and safe.”

“I think she’ll do a great deal better if you don’t interfere, slave” the Queen snapped, speaking up for the first time. She looked at her husband. “Honestly, I don’t even know why you granted this interview! It’s so obviously a waste of time.”

“Your Majesties…” Varin took a deep breath. “If you won’t allow me to guard the Princess more closely, then please consider having someone else do it. Someone more conscientious than the guards who allowed her to be attacked in the gardens, which should be considered unsafe until we find out what happened to the Lady Amalthia once and for all.”

“Are you suggesting the Princess ought to stay cooped up indoors and out of the sun?” the Queen demanded. “She’s already too pale and pasty as it is! She has to look presentable at the ball tonight if we’re to secure an advantageous match with her new suitor.”

“New suitor?” Varin felt a rush of possessive rage which he struggled to push down. In the back of his mind, he had known this day would come. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that Brynn was his. The idea of her with any other male drove him into a murderous rage. But he couldn’t show that to the King and Queen—not if he wanted to be able to continue to guard their daughter. Instead he cleared his throat and said, “I have not heard that you had found someone you considered a worthy candidate to wed the Princess.”

“Worthy candidate?” The Queen gave a derisive laugh. “Please—it’s been no secret that we’ve been seeking her a husband from the moment she came back from the Sisters of Chastity and Obedience. Her brother the Crown Prince will take the throne once the King and I are gone—we don’t need a second heir.”

“I see.” Varin nodded, striving to keep his face calm and emotionless. “And as the Princess’s protector, may I know his name?”

“The impertinence!” the Queen exclaimed but the King made a dismissive gesture.

“Peace, Isolde. It makes no difference if the slave knows or not. He is Sovereign Ysldred X’izith,” he said, addressing himself to Varin. “Ruler of a planet somewhere outside our sector. Zelum or Jelum—something like that.”

“Somewhere outside our sector? You don’t even know the exact name or location of his planet?” Varin demanded.

“We know that he’s wealthy and he’s expressed interest in the princess,” the Queen snapped. “And that’s a good deal more than you need to know. Your only function at the ball tonight is to guard the princess from afar and don’t interfere! I won’t have you ruining this chance for her!”

This chance for you, you mean, Varin thought bitterly. The chance to sell away your only daughter like a trinket you don’t like very much.

He felt a helpless rage sweep over him. These two had never cared about Brynn—especially after they had a male heir! Packing her off to a convent for the first eighteen years of her life so they wouldn’t have to be “bothered” with her…never visiting her a single time…and Brynn had told him herself, in a shamed whisper, how the Queen had called her a “disappointment” at their very first meeting.

Varin struggled with himself for a moment, fighting to keep his composure when what he really wanted to do was knock their royal heads together for being so callus and uncaring towards the beautiful, sensitive girl who should have been their most precious treasure.

“Was there something else, slave?” the King asked, frowning at him.

“Yes, your Majesty—there is.” Varin took a deep breath. “This is a delicate subject but…there were some rumors about a possible ‘deflowering.’ I normally would never ask you such a thing but as Princess Brynnalla’s protector, I need to make certain that’s all they are—just idle rumors with no basis in truth. The old customs were barbaric…brutal. I cannot see the Princess subjected to such cruelty.”

“Well!” The Queen sounded offended but the King answered, still frowning.

“I will answer only because you are, as you say, the Princess’s protector. As you know, the royal females of our lineage used to have…difficulties in accommodating their new husbands when they were first joined. But that was in ancient times, before our blood was somewhat diluted and thinned. We no longer have this problem, and so the deflowering ceremony and the equipment used to perform it is no longer needed.”

“Good.” Varin felt a rush of relief. “Thank you for reassuring me, your Majesty. The Princess is too delicate for such treatment.”

“Yes, yes…” The King waved one hand in irritation. “Now go—Queen Isolde and I have other matters to attend to—you have taken up enough of our time.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Varin bowed stiffly. “I thank you for your kind indulgence.”

“Very well, then go.” The Queen sounded irritated. “And be certain you’re on your best behavior tonight!”

Varin simply bowed again and left. There was nothing else he could do or say except stay as close to Brynn as he could and protect her with his life.

Chapter Twelve

“My Sovereign, your costume and mask are ready.” The buzzing hum of the worker in his ear drew Ysldred X’izith’s attention from his view of the small blue and pink world outside his window.

The Hive had been scouting Galen Prime for some time now, considering whether to make it their next conquest. The world was rich with resources but it was also overrun by a fleshy, humanoid species that might prove to be troublesome. X’izith had been weighing his options, waiting to see if they were good for breeding, as well as for meat. Some fleshers were incompatible with his species—in which case it wouldn’t be worth the risk to the Hive to expend the energy and resources to take them.

About two solar weeks ago, the scout he had sent to the planet had returned with a flesher female with long yellow hair and pale skin. She had shouted and screamed, the strange water the fleshers called tears pouring from her green eyes, until the workers had drugged her with the Blood Honey.

After she was brought to heat, X’izith had implanted her with multiple common grubs—(he would not risk royal grubs on a female of uncertain pedigree.) The implantation had been somewhat problematic, though—there had been a barrier between her legs, in the way of his breeding barb which he disliked, for it impeded the proper implantation.

But his barb was sharp for a reason. After piercing the flesher female’s abdomen multiple time from above, he had finally implanted the grubs. And, to his intense satisfaction, they appeared to be thriving within her—at least, if the ripples in her distended belly were anything to go by.

Of course, such methods would not do for royal grubs and anyway, he preferred sheathing his breeding barb between a female’s thighs rather than stabbing it into her abdomen. The pleasure was much more intense that way.

Upon accessing, translating and reading more about the fleshers of Galen Prime, he found that this abnormally tough membrane was common to Galen females who had yet to be bred—those of noble or royal blood, anyway. But they appeared to have a method of dealing with it, which would take care of the problem. X’izith had filed the information away and promised himself that with the next female—the royal female he would take—things would go more smoothly.

But the fact that the breeding was possible at all, decided him. Accordingly, he had made plans to take the small world of Galen Prime, but it had to be done stealthily—which was where his new costume came into play.

“Bring it to me,” he ordered the worker, clicking his mandibles eagerly. “Let me see how it fits—it had better be perfect!”

“Yes, my Sovereign.” The worker scurried off, his many legs clacking over the metal floors of the stolen flesher spaceship. Of course, the Hive had their own ships for space-faring but they tended to look different and alien to flesher eyes. X’izith had found it was best to disguise his outside appearance in every way—including the ship he took—until he was certain a target was within his grasp.

This was the same reason he had kept the original crew of the stolen ship—for their humanoid appearance as well as their piloting abilities. Of course, they could no longer think for themselves. They had blank looks on their fleshy faces, staring straight ahead as they worked the controls of the ship. X’izith had injected a special serum only he could make into the base of their skulls which gave him complete control over them. They were most useful as a backdrop for his disguise, which the worker was currently fetching.

“Here you are, my Sovereign.” The worker was back, grasping the flesher clothing carefully in several appendages. “This new disguise should fool even the most discerning flesher. The artisans have worked for many long solar hours to complete it.” He held out the strange two-legged trousers. “Here, try these first. I believe you will need to put two legs in each of the long, cloth tubes,” he added helpfully.

X’izith stepped into the trousers, keeping his breeding barb tucked in as he pulled the flesher clothing up to the narrow joining of his abdomen and thorax. He then cinched the trousers tightly with a long, narrow leather strap. This area—the fleshers called it a “waist”—did not look right. It was much too narrow for a flesher male, but he had ordered the top part of the outfit to cover it.

Indeed, as he pulled on the items the fleshers called a “shirt,” pushing two long, many jointed, chitinous limbs through each arm hole, he found that it fell past his narrow waist, disguising it quite well.

Next came gloves, made to look like flesher hands and wrists. In point of fact, they were what they looked like because they had been made from the parts of captured and dismembered fleshers from another conquest planet.

Tiny pumps implanted under the skin kept the blood circulating and the tissue alive quite nicely and X’izith had been practicing with them so he could use them convincingly. The finely haired claws at the ends of his own four arms fit into the hollowed out flesher fingers allowing him to do even the smallest task with deft precision.

His wings he could do nothing about but when he folded them neatly along his back, they looked very like a kind of long, stiff cloak, which fell past the high brown boots that covered his four feet—two in each boot.

The face and head was the trickiest part. With his gold tipped antennae, vast, black compound eyes, and curving, serrated mandibles, X’izith looked nothing like a flesher. The mask that covered his entire visage, therefore, had to be nothing short of a work of art.

It opened in the back, where it would be least noticeable, hidden by the ridiculous fur the fleshers called “hair.” X’izith looked at the inner workings, appreciating the intuitive interior switches he would be able to work with his mandibles to approximate the same expressions the fleshers themselves used for social interaction.

The skin of the face and head mask was pinkish-tan in color and the eyes—which looked like the pitiful and inadequate pair most fleshers had—were purple. Of course, they were set in the wrong part of the head for X’izith to actually see with—his eyes were located on the sides of his head in a sensible fashion, instead of up front. To fix this, see-through mesh was hidden on either side of the mask, concealed, as was the closure, by the brownish-green hair.

The nose and mouth and eyes of the mask were worked by his mandibles but though he had read and internalized the Galen flesher language, X’izith considered that his true voice was still too high and hissing to sound like them. Luckily, the throat of the mask had a tone modulator built into it so he could speak without fear of detection.

Once the outfit was on, he examined himself before the viewer. Yes—he looked exactly like a flesher. He would fool them all—for as long as he chose to, that was.

“How is the fit, my Sovereign?” the worker asked anxiously. “Shall I give the artisans extra blood rations or order them dismembered and thrown into the flesh pits by the guards?”

“Extra rations, I think,” X’izith hissed thoughtfully. “Though the mask does constrict my antennae somewhat.” Indeed, the golden tip of his left antenna was folded over and trying to poke out the mesh beside his eye. He would have to be careful of that.

“May I be so bold as to ask why you are bothering with such subterfuge?” the worker asked. “Why do we not simply overrun the planet, as we usually do, and take what we want?”

“Because what I want most is a Breeding Queen—one with a proper pedigree,” X’izith explained. “Fleshers with the correct DNA sequences which make them compatible for breeding are becoming rarer and more difficult to find. Among the Galens, only the royals have them, due to their unbroken lineage. I must secure the young female they call “Princess” for breeding the royal grubs, before I overtake the entire planet.”

“Ah, very good.” The worker nodded. “But…what if the fleshers will not release this “Princess” to you?”

“They will—I have sent a message containing golden ore mined from the last asteroid we harvested to make them believe I am a flesher of wealth and means. They should be eager to sell her to me for the correct price.” He shrugged, his wings moving with the motion. “Naturally I shall simply regain the gold once we take the planet—so there will be no loss—only gain.”

“What if they take a disliking to you and decide to withhold the Princess no matter how much you offer?” the worker wanted to know.

“Then the time for niceties will be over and I will make a show of strength.” X’izith gnashed his mandibles together which contorted the flesher mask he wore alarmingly. “Have our fleet waiting behind Galen’s moon—either way the conquest will begin within the next twenty-four solar hours after I attend the flesher gathering they call a “ball.”

“Very well.” The worker bowed, grooming his antennae obsequiously. “It shall be as you say, my Sovereign.”

“Good.” X’izith looked in the viewer again, practicing moving the purple eyes from side to side, and opening and closing the mouth. “The Hive will feed and brood and swarm and soon there will be royal grubs again.” He looked at the worker. “Who knows? You may even serve one of them if he grows large enough and is able to best and consume me.”

“The Nameless Ones, Gods of Nothing, grant it shall be, that the Hive shall live forever,” the worker answered reverently.

“Yes.” X’izith nodded. “That the Hive shall live forever.”

The worker scuttled off and X’izith resumed practicing his flesher facial expressions. Tonight’s “ball” should be entertaining in the extreme and he didn’t intend to leave it without the Princess.

Chapter Thirteen

“I can’t wear this! It shows much too much skin!” Brynn stared down at herself in dismay. The gown was a muted gold with a flowing, pearlescent pattern worked into the fabric and full skirts that fell to the floor. The color was rather nice—just a few shades lighter than Varin’s eyes, Brynn thought. However, it wasn’t the color that was upsetting her.

The bodice of the ball gown—if it could be called that—was simply a small piece of material which came up from the full skirt and barely covered her top. Her back was completely bare and the cups sewn inside the gown, which thrust her small breasts up and out, made Brynn feel horribly exposed. Back in the convent, wearing only the modest gray robes that covered her from neck to toes, she would never have dreamed of putting on such a garment, even in private. Now she would be forced to wear it in public!

She tugged futilely, trying to get the golden fabric to come higher— it barely covered the small pink arcs of her areolas and she was afraid if she raised her arms to dance, it might flash her nipples. But it was no good—the dress had been tailor-made for her and it stayed where it was, despite all her pulling and tugging.

“This is what your Lady-mother the Queen sent for you,” Lady Tasmina, her new head lady in waiting said, frowning. “You must wear it, Princess.”

“But you and the other ladies in waiting don’t to have to wear such…such revealing gowns!” Brynn glanced resentfully at Tasmina’s dress—a vivid turquoise blue with a much more reasonable bodice which actually covered her back and all of her breasts, except for a tiny bit of cleavage.

“I’m not the one Sovereign Ysldred X’izith is coming to see,” Tasmina said blandly. “I think it is your Lady-mother’s wish that you stand out.”

Ysldred X’izith…the whole palace was buzzing with the name of her new suitor—supposedly the ruler of a rich new world in a different sector of space than Galen. He was coming to the ball tonight to meet her and Brynn knew she ought to feel excited…yet all she could feel was a nameless dread in the pit of her stomach.

I thought I had more time! she couldn’t help thinking. More time before they got rid of me. I’ve only been back from the convent for two solar months! How can they already be sending me away?

But it wasn’t just the prospect of leaving the Galen royal palace and going to a whole new planet that had her palms cold and damp. It was the idea of being with a strange male. Just admit it, Brynn, whispered a little voice inside her head. To you, strange means any male besides Varin.

It was true—try as she might, Brynn simply couldn’t imagine herself being with any male but the big Kindred. Especially not when it came to making love. Every time she used the little tickle-teaser (which she had done several times, after getting over some of her guilt) she imagined Varin touching and kissing her and giving her pleasure…and herself giving him pleasure in return.

Of course, Brynn knew it could never be—his obedience band would never allow it and it would be considered wildly inappropriate for the Princess to join with her slave. It was neither proper nor practical for her to imagine such a thing.

But she couldn’t seem to help it—all the practicality and propriety in the world couldn’t stop her mind from showing her vivid images of Varin the moment she started to explore herself at night, under the covers.

She and Varin no longer dared to go inside her room and talk anymore and the big Kindred couldn’t touch her, even with a sheet or cloth between them, for fear that they might be watched somehow. But they still had long conversations, carried out in whispered voices, as they sat on a broad window ledge conveniently close to her doorway.

At least if I have to go with this new male—this Ysldred X’izith—I’ll be able to take Varin, she thought. He said he would never leave me and he’s bound to me as my personal guard—my parents will have to let him come with me to see that I’m safe on the new planet.

Of course, maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Maybe Sovereign Ysldred X’izith wouldn’t like her at all and no offer would be made for her hand. Maybe this was all a false alarm.

Goddess, grant it may be so, Brynn prayed silently. I don’t want to leave the palace—not so soon. And I don’t want a husband who will own my body and do what he likes with it, either!

She looked in the viewer again at the skimpy top of her gown and the small, round curves of her breasts pushed up and out as though they were trying to get free. Just the thought of some stranger’s hands on her there made her stomach roll with nausea. Let alone the thought of some strange male poking his shaft between her legs…

Just then there was a rapping on her door.

“Nearly time for the ball, Mistress,” Varin’s deep voice called. “Are you ready to be escorted?”

“Almost,” Brynn called. She looked at her lady in waiting. “Lady Tasmina, thank you for your help but I know you have your own preparations to see to. You can go and I’ll finish my hair myself.”

“Well, if you’re sure…see you at the ball, Princess.” Lady Tasmina gave a negligent shrug and left. She wasn’t nearly as pushy or prying as the ill-fated Lady Amalthia had been—which was one reason Brynn had raised her to the position of head lady in waiting.

Brynn waited until she was certain Tasmina had gone and then went to the door and opened it just a crack so that she could see her Kindred.

“Come in,” she murmured to Varin, who was dressed to emphasize his slave status tonight.

He was shirtless, the broad planes of his muscular chest bare, and around the strong column of his throat was a thick, black pain collar like all of the other slaves wore. He was also wearing a new set of dress leathers with scarlet striping along the sides of his trouser legs and his black boots were shined to a high gloss.

“Should I?” he rumbled cautiously. “Is there anyone else here?”

“It should be all right. All the other ladies in waiting are elsewhere,” Brynn told him.

“All right. Whew…” He gave a long, low whistle when he entered her chamber and saw her dress. “That’s some outfit, little one.”

“I know. It’s awful, isn’t it?” Brynn made a face and tugged at the bodice again. She’d decided to leave her hair long and loose around her shoulders—at least that gave her some coverage, though it would probably look odd when every other female at the ball had their hair up in an elaborate headdress. But anything to cover—or at least partially cover—her exposed breasts.

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” There was a warm glow in his bronze eyes—a heat meant only for her.

Brynn felt an answering heat in her belly and her cheeks grew warm with a pleasurable kind of embarrassment. She didn’t mind wearing the revealing gown in front of the big Kindred. If he was the only one who could see it and no one else, she would have been perfectly happy.

“You’re dressed differently tonight too,” she said lightly. “Why the pain collar when you’ve never worn one before?”

He frowned. “Your Lady-mother insisted. I think she wants to remind me that I’m a slave and nothing more.”

“You’re much more…to me,” Brynn murmured and blushed. Then, trying to hide her embarrassment she went on quickly. “It’s seems like my Lady-mother dressed both of us tonight. I’m only wearing this awful dress because she commanded it.” She cleared her throat. “Because…because I’m supposed to meet…”

“Your new suitor, Ysldred X’izith,” Varin growled and his eyes flashed.

“Yes.” Brynn was relieved he already knew. “I don’t want to meet him,” she confessed to Varin in a small voice. “I don’t care how handsome he is or how rich his planet is, I don’t want anything to do with him. With any male.”

She almost added “except you” but at the last minute she stopped herself. These were improper feelings she was having for Varin and though he warded and protected her and talked to her every night as a friend, he had never expressed improper feelings towards her. It would only make things awkward between them if she admitted to the way she felt about him.

He sighed. “I don’t want you to meet him either, Princess. But it doesn’t seem like you have a choice.”

“If they marry me off to him and I have to go away, you’ll come with me, won’t you?” Brynn looked up at him, needing reassurance…needing to know he would never leave her side.

“I swear it,” he growled. “I am yours, Mistress, for all the days of my life. I don’t care where you go—I’ll follow.”

“Thank you, Varin.” Brynn stepped closer to him. “I…I want to hug you but with all this bare skin…” She gestured at the two of them—Varin was shirtless and she almost was. “Your obedience band will give you a horrible jolt.”

“Don’t care about that,” he growled. “If you need a hug, come get one, little one.”

“I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you.” But Brynn took a step closer anyway. She wanted so badly just to step into his embrace and press her cheek against his warm, scratchy chest, to breathe in his wild, spicy scent…

Suddenly there was a clatter outside the door and she heard a guard announcing, “Make way for her royal highness, Queen Isolde of Galen!”

Brynn quickly jumped away from the big Kindred, her heart pounding in apprehension. Goddess above, what if her mother saw…what if she guessed…

The door banged open and the guard bowed her mother into the room.

Brynn made a curtsy and beside her, she saw Varin bowing low, a stony look on his strong features.

“Now then, Brynnalla—there you are!” the Queen exclaimed. She was wearing a high-necked gown in a bright shade of purple and she frowned when she saw Varin standing there as well, but didn’t seem to think his presence was worth remarking on.

“Yes, my Lady-mother.” Brynn rose from her curtsey. “Did you want to see me before the ball?”

“Yes, I certainly did. First of all I wanted to be certain that you’re wearing the gown I sent and you’re properly arrayed.” She frowned at Brynn. “I see you’ve got the gown on, at least.”

“I do but please, my Lady-mother, it’s, um, too small,” Brynn gestured helplessly at the tiny bit of fabric clinging to her breasts. “Can’t I wear something with more…more coverage?”

“Most certainly not—I had it made that way on purpose,” the Queen snapped. “You must catch the eye of your new suitor, Sovereign X’izith. You have few enough assets to work with as it is…” She frowned over her own extra large bosom at Brynn’s small, round breasts. “We have to make the most of what little you have.”

“But—”

“And your hair still isn’t done!” her mother exclaimed. “Why isn’t it up?”

Brynn lifted her chin. “I decided to wear it down.”

“That’s not acceptable! You look ridiculous.”

“No, I look different from the other ladies—that’s all.” Brynn didn’t know where she got the courage to speak up so to her mother but somehow the words just came out. “And I thought you said you wanted me to be eye-catching.”

Her Lady-mother seemed about to protest but then she shook her head and threw up her hands.

“Fine. Do as you please. But listen, Brynnalla…” She leaned forward and the heavy scent of her expensive perfume made Brynn’s nose itch and her eyes water. “I want you to concentrate all your attention on Sovereign X’izith tonight. We believe it would be a very advantageous match for the royal family and for Galen as a whole so keep his interest at all costs.”

Brynn wasn’t sure what to say to that but she felt Varin’s presence at her back. He shifted restlessly, as though he wasn’t very happy with what he was hearing.

“I…I’ll try, mother,” she said at last. “I have had little experience of catching the interest of any male, as you know.”

“Yes, yes, that damn convent,” the Queen muttered, frowning. “You came back from there looking as plain as untoasted bata bread.” She sighed. “I probably should have had you raised in a pleasure house instead but all the fashionable families were using the Sisters of Chastity when you were born and I was just so tired of bothering with you. Children are so troublesome!”

“I am sorry you think me a bother,” Brynn said stiffly. “I’ll try to do what I can to…to gain the Sovereign’s interest, though I do not know what that may be.”

“Oh, do I really have to spell it out for you?” The Queen gave an irritated shake of her head. “Such a shame about Amalthia—she could have told you what to do. No matter though…” She sighed. “What I’m trying to say, Brynnalla, is if the Sovereign wants to take a few liberties, you should let him.”

“Wants to take liberties?” Brynn couldn’t help feeling shocked. Behind her, she could hear a low, angry growl rising from Varin’s deep chest but apparently her Lady-mother was oblivious to the soft, rumbling sound.

“Yes, yes,” she exclaimed impatiently. “Why do you think I put you in that dress? Males love breasts. When you dance with him, press against him—drop your fan and bend low to get it so he can see what he’s missing. Oh, and if he wants to touch you, just be certain you have a little privacy so not everyone can see.”

“Mother, I can’t do all that!” Brynn blurted out. “It’s the exact opposite of everything I’ve been taught my entire life by the Sisters of Chastity! I can’t just let some strange male fondle me!”

“You can and you will—your father and I need this alliance,” the Queen snapped. “The Sovereign is said to be extremely wealthy and your bride price would pay for a whole new bathing wing on the palace.” She made a face. “The old one is simply dreadful.”

She wants to sell me, Brynn thought despairingly. No—she wants me to sell myself. So she can get rid of me and get something she’d rather have—like a new bathtub.

“Mother, I—”

“I have no more time for you.” The Queen pointed one elegantly gloved finger at her. “Do as you’re told tonight. And you…” She pointed at Varin, who had a dark look on his face. “Don’t interfere! Stay back and let the Princess charm her suitor.” She sighed. “If she’s capable of charming anyone, that is. Now get to the ball at once!”

Shaking her head, she swept from the room again, followed by her retinue of guards and leaving Brynn behind, feeling shaken and small and cheap.

* * * * *

A low, inarticulate growl burst from Varin’s lips the moment the Queen and her retinue were gone. He had known the King and Queen didn’t value their daughter as they should but this was going too far! Telling Brynn she must offer herself on a platter for some strange male to grope, all for a little gold—it sickened him! And from the look on Brynn’s delicate features, she was feeling more than a little sick and upset herself.

She was standing there, staring after her mother, her big gray eyes filled with unshed tears.

Varin felt his heart twist. She was so sensitive—so innocent. She’d led such a sheltered existence up until now, at a convent where they believed any kind of sexual activity was a sin. And now, here was her own mother, telling her to play the part of the trollop to lure a rich male into marriage.

“Hey, little one,” he said gently, ducking his head to look into her eyes. “You all right?”

“I…guess so.” She straightened up and gave a broken little laugh. “I mean, I have to be, right? There’s no choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” Varin growled. “You don’t have to sell yourself like some cheap pleasure girl just because your mother ordered you to. You’re better than that—you’re worth so much more.”

“Apparently I’m worth the price of a new bathing room.” Brynn lifted her chin and dashed the tears from her eyes. “Come on, we’re going to be late to the ball.”

“Brynn—no.” Varin stood in front of her, blocking her path.

“Please let me pass,” she said softly, looking up at him. “I have to go to the ball—there’s no choice, you know that.”

“I also know if this X’izith bastard lays a hand on you I’ll rip his fucking guts out,” Varin growled. He couldn’t help himself—the idea of Brynn letting another male do what her mother had suggested made him half crazy with possessive rage.

She’s mine, damn it! MINE! a voice inside him snarled and Varin agreed with it wholeheartedly.

“Varin, you can’t—I don’t want you to get into trouble,” she protested.

“Fuck that,” he snarled. “I don’t give a Goddess damn what they do to me. It’s your wellbeing I’m concerned with, Princess.”

“Then you’ll restrain yourself,” Brynn snapped. “And leave the new suitor alone.”

Varin looked at her in surprise. Did she want to follow her mother’s orders? Or was she just being obedient, as she had been taught to be all those years at the convent?

“Mistress?” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t understand. Do you not want me to protect you from this strange male’s advances?”

“Of course I want you to!” Brynn burst out. “I am neither a glutton for punishment nor blindly obedient. But Varin, you can’t just attack him like he’s an opponent at the Arena. You…” She put up a hand as though to touch his cheek and then stopped before she made contact.

“Yes, Princess?” He bridged the distance between them, pressing his cheek to her outstretched hand though it caused his obedience band to shoot painful jolts through him.

“Varin,” she breathed his name again. “What I fear more than anything else is losing you. If you cause a scene, I’m afraid my parents might decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth. And if they take you away from me and you’re not allowed to accompany me when I leave Galen…” She left the words hanging in the air as she caressed his scratchy cheek delicately with her warm little hand.

Her touch gave both pain and pleasure—Varin took both from her gladly. She was his Mistress but more than that—this small, slim girl he’d seen in his dreams for as long as he could remember was his heart.

“My wellbeing is tied up in keeping you by my side,” she whispered. “Please, please don’t leave me.”

“Never,” he swore. “I am yours until I die, Princess—you know that.”

“Then we have to be careful,” Brynn murmured.

“All right,” he said at last, blowing out a breath. “I’ll try not to interfere unless I think he’s actually hurting you or…”

“Or taking liberties,” Brynn said. “I’ll be polite and dance with him and make conversation and laugh at his jokes if he tells any…” Her eyes flashed. “But I don’t care what my Lady-mother the Queen says, I am not prepared to let some strange male fondle me that she might have a nicer bathing room.” She sighed. “It’s going to be a delicate balance, Varin. Just try not to interfere unless it’s really and truly necessary.”

“I will be watching,” he vowed, his hands clenched into fists.

She was right—he couldn’t attack the new suitor just for daring to seek the Princess’s hand in joining. But he could and would step in if Sovereign X’izith got too fucking grabby. Still, he had to be calm—had to push back the red Rage that threatened to fall over his vision like a mantle of blood when he felt like Brynn might be threatened. She was right—it would do neither of them any good if he caused a scene the moment the bastard took her in his arms to dance.

But damn it, Varin couldn’t shake the feeling that she was his, that no other male ought to be allowed within fifty standard feet of her! The deep feeling of possession—possibly related to his bond with her—made guarding her objectively difficult.

Difficult but not impossible, he told himself firmly. Have to take it easy and play this right. He took a deep breath, mastering himself.

“Come on, little one,” he growled. “We have to go or we’ll be late.”

“All right.” She lifted her chin and there was a steely glint in her wide gray eyes—a determination to get through this unpleasant experience no matter what.

There was strength buried under her delicate exterior, Varin thought. Strength that might surprise the King and Queen if they knew of it—if they would take the time to get to know their own daughter—which he knew would never happen.

“All right,” she said again. “I’m ready, Varin. Let’s get this over with.”

Chapter Fourteen

“You are most beautiful, Princess. I have seen much of your world but now I see that the most beautiful thing on it is you.”

Sovereign Ysldred X’izith had a strange, stilted voice that seemed to hiss on every syllable. He moved strangely, too—stiffly, Brynn thought, almost as though his limbs were being constricted in some way. He was also extremely tall and thin—even taller than Varin, she estimated—though not nearly so broad through the shoulders.

That wasn’t the oddest thing about him though—he had greenish brown hair and purple eyes that never seemed to be looking quite at her when he spoke. She told herself it was just because he was from another planet in a distant sector of the galaxy but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong about him—though she couldn’t exactly put her finger on what it was.

“Thank you, Sovereign X’izith,” she said hesitantly, stumbling a bit over the pronunciation of his odd name. “That is a…a lovely compliment.”

“A lovely compliment for a lovely female,” he buzzed. “There appears to be a mating ritual going on in the center of the room. Shall we participate?”

Brynn looked to where he was pointing with one long, skinny finger. His hands, when they brushed her skin, seemed abnormally hot—almost clammy—and all of his fingernails were caked with dirt. It was disgusting but she tried not to shudder.

“Oh—you want to dance?” she asked, since he was pointing at the dance floor where couples were spinning and turning.

“If that is what you call it.” He nodded his head in jerky time with the music. “This rhythm seems most agreeable.”

Brynn could scarcely think of anything she would rather do less than let Sovereign X’izith hold her close to his tall, cadaverously thin body and touch her with his hot, dirty hands but she could see her parents glaring at her from across the room from the royal dais. There was no helping it—she would have to dance with him.

“I should love to dance,” she said, trying to smile up at him.

The Sovereign’s thin red mouth twitched upward in something like an answering grin—only it looked to Brynn more like a grimace. Goddess above what was wrong with his face? It was so oddly proportioned and his features seemed to move independently of each other. His right eyeball twitched and rolled while his left stared straight ahead into hers, though she had the oddest feeling it couldn’t see her from either one.

“Come then. Let us participate in the ritual,” he hissed, taking her hand in his.

Brynn had an almost insurmountable urge to rip her hand out of his grip and scrub her palm against her skirts to cleanse it. Touching him was repellant—holding his hand made her feel the same way she would if someone had compelled her to hold a dead animal or a many-legged insect in her palm.

Grimly, she fought the urge to get away and allowed the Sovereign to lead her onto the dance floor. Lords and Ladies of the Court were performing a stately two step which didn’t look hard to learn, even to the convent-trained Brynn.

Not too hard—just a step to the left, a step to the right, the gentleman places his hands on the lady’s waist and they both hop once in place, then repeat the whole process—all in time to the music. We should be able to manage fairly well, she thought.

However, Sovereign X’izith soon proved that dancing was not his talent.

He took Brynn in his oddly stiff arms and lifted his knees comically high with each step he made. When he hopped, he bounded straight up in the air—three feet at least. And since his hot, filthy hands were clamped around Brynn’s waist in an iron grip, he took her with him, up toward the arched ceiling like a ship shooting for the moon.

Brynn shrieked breathlessly—she couldn’t help it! The sudden lift-off startled her and she grabbed for X’izith’s upper arms, expecting to feel his biceps under her hands. Instead, her seeking fingers found what felt like hard, dry sticks inside the sleeves of his elegant shirt. No muscle—no skin or flesh of any kind that she could feel. Just those strange sticks.

“What…who…” she began breathlessly when they landed. But then Varin was there, elbowing his way through the dancers to glare at her new suitor.

“How dare you frighten the Princess?” he growled, glowering at the other male. “She’s a lady—you can’t go jerking her around like a stuffed doll!” He looked at Brynn. “Are you hurt, Mistress?”

“No, thank you, Varin. I am well,” Brynn replied rather breathlessly. She could see her Lady-mother the Queen gesturing angrily from the dais. If Varin didn’t leave quickly he was going to be in trouble.

“My apologies,” buzzed X’izith. “I was simply attempting to participate in this mating ritual. However, there is no need for rude behavior.”

“Be more careful with the Princess,” Varin warned him, his voice a deep, menacing growl. “I am her personal guard—if you hurt her—if you so much as put a single scratch on her delicate skin—you answer to me.”

X’izith bristled. “Perhaps my answers are not ones you would care to hear.”

“I’ll be happy to have a question and answer session with you any time, Sovereign.” The big Kindred seemed to grow even larger and more menacing as he glared at her suitor.

“Varin!” Brynn hissed and cut her eyes towards the royal dais where both her parents were staring angrily. “You’d better go now,” she told the big Kindred.

“Very well.” He gave her a curt bow and looked at X’izith again. “I’ll be watching you.”

Then he wove his way through the dancers—most of which had stopped dancing to watch the juicy drama unfolding between the Princess, her rich new suitor, and her personal slave who happened to be the most famous Arena warrior on Galen.

But then the King waved at the musicians and another dance started—this one much slower—a stately pavane where the Lords took their Ladies in their arms and held them close for the long, sweeping movements.

X’izith did better at copying the dance this time, though his motions were still very jerky. When he pressed Brynn close to him, she had to force herself to lay her head against his chest, as all the other ladies were doing with their partners.

Though the idea of the dance was the rather romantic notion that the lady would listen to her partner’s heartbeat and move in time with it, Brynn could hear no internal pumping in X’izith’s strangely brittle-feeling chest. Again she felt no flesh at all—it was like leaning her cheek against a wooden chest—a hollow one.

He had a strange smell too—a sweet, meaty odor that reminded her of something, though she couldn’t remember what. The cloying stench was deeply unpleasant and Brynn found she had to stop breathing through her nose in order to keep from gagging. His hot hands on her bare back made her skin crawl as he jerked her around the dance floor with each twitching step. Goddess above, would this dance never end?

“Ah, this is most pleasant. Most enjoyable,” X’izith proclaimed, as the pavane finally drew to a close with the Lords and Ladies clapping politely. “And now, Princess, let us take a walk in the luminescence of your planet’s natural rocky satellite and become better acquainted—shall we?”

“You mean you want to take a walk in the moonlight?” Brynn looked up at him and saw that it was the left eye staring at her this time, while the right eye twitched and stared off into space.

“Yes, if it suits you.”

Brynn had an idea he was trying to get her alone outside on the palace grounds, which absolutely wouldn’t do. But there was a broad balcony off of the main ballroom which was bathed in moonlight—maybe that would appease him.

“This way,” she said and led him—without taking his hand because she just couldn’t make herself touch him again—through the crowd and out onto the broad stone balcony.

“Delightful…delightful,” X’izith declared, both purple eyes rolling independently of each other now. Did he have some kind of condition, Brynn wondered. Some sickness that caused his eyes to act in such a strange way or was it simply part of his physiology?

“Yes, the moonlight is lovely,” she said, trying to keep a little distance from him without appearing rude.

“It is so much easier to see out of the blinding interior glare.” Her suitor brushed his lank greenish-brown hair away from the sides of his head and tilted it this way and that. “At last I can get a proper look at you, Princesss.”

His voice hissed on her title and he took a jerky step towards her, reaching out his hands as though to touch her. Even in the moonlight, Brynn could see the dirt crusted under each separate nail.

“And I can look at you,” she said, forcing a smile as she took a step back. “Tell me, what are your people like, Sovereign X’izith?” She meant it as a pleasantry but his answer was very odd.

“They are very many and always hungry.” His thin lips twisted in a rictus of a smile and a dribble of spittle ran from the corner of his mouth. He took another step towards her, his hands out-raised.

Brynn remembered her Lady-mother’s orders that she should let her new suitor take liberties and couldn’t stop a disgusted shiver from running over her nearly bare skin. Nor could she stop herself from taking another step back towards the relative safety of the ballroom.

But X’izith stepped towards her again.

“Forgive me, Princesss, but there are some things I wish to verify before I make you mine. Has your cloaca been previously pierced by a male’s barb?”

“Excuse me, what?” Brynn started at him, uncomprehending.

“Your female entrance…” X’izith seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “Your vaginal canal—has it been penetrated by male organs of reproduction?”

“Are…are you asking if I’m a virgin?” Brynn could hardly believe this conversation. It was deeply inappropriate and horribly improper. No gentleman would ever ask a lady such a thing!

Of course she had discussed such matters with Varin but that was different—he was her friend, her protector. The only male you really want to be with, added the little voice in her head.

And besides all that, Brynn had asked the big Kindred for the information—had brought the subject up herself.

The fact that she had known Sovereign X’izith less than an hour and he was already asking such personal and prying sexual questions made her feel intruded on and cheapened.

But he either didn’t see or didn’t understand the look of disgust and disbelief on her face.

“Yes, that is what I wish to ascertain,” he hissed. “If you are…virgin. Specifically, has the barrier within your vaginal canal been removed or is it intact?”

“My…I…of course I’m intact!” Brynn gasped, stung into answering his horrible question. “How dare you ask me such a thing?”

She had felt the little barrier within herself while playing with the tickle-teaser but had been extremely careful not to press on it, remembering Varin’s warning about causing herself bleeding or pain. Several times she had wondered how much it would hurt when her husband “removed” it during their wedding night, but quickly pushed the thought aside as too frightening to consider.

“Ah…” X’izith twisted his head from side to side and the strange, stiff cape he was wearing, which never seemed to move, made a rustling noise. “So your barrier is intact. A pity. I had thought to fly you off to my ship myself at once. But this must be taken care of first.”

“Fly me off?” Suddenly Brynn felt horribly exposed out on the low stone balcony which stuck out from the side of the palace. It occurred to her that someone in a low flying craft could swoop out of the air and nab her right off the balcony if they wished.

Someone…or something.

In her mind’s eye, she saw the poisonous barb of the huge insect-thing protruding from Amalthia’s chest while she screamed and screamed as it flew away with her…

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice sounding high and frightened in her own ears. “I really…really must be going.”

“Not yet, please.” X’izith approached her again. “I wish to ascertain the ripeness of your abdominal cavity and conjecture how much it can hold.”

“What?” This time Brynn was certain she was hearing him wrong. “You want to what?” she demanded.

“You are small—some might even call you a runt,” X’izith went on, oblivious to her horror and outrage. “But the skin of some fleshers is quite elastic. I wish to verify the fecundity of your cavity and the elasticity of your skin. It is of the utmost importance before I risk implanting the royal grubs with my breeding barb.”

And then he was on her and pulling up the voluminous skirt of her pale gold gown. He moved with horrible swiftness his earlier, jerky motions had in no way hinted at and before she knew it Brynn felt his hot, dirty hands pawing at her thighs.

“What are you doing? No!” she gasped, kicking out. She could tolerate his awful questions, she thought, but this was too much! This was horrible! “Get away from me—stop!”

“Get your hands off her, you son of a bitch!”

Varin was suddenly there, shoving the tall, spindly form of Sovereign X’izith away. X’izith fell on his back with a whistling, clicking cry, his arms and legs kicking oddly.

“You will pay!” he hissed at Varin, as he struggled to right himself. “Your pain will be immeasurable for the insults you have visited upon me!”

Varin ignored him. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” he asked Brynn.

“No, he—I don’t know what he was trying to do, exactly.” She felt flustered and dirty and violated, like she needed a long, hot bath to scrub X’izith’s dirty fingerprints off her skin. “He was…he said something about the ripeness of my abdomen and royal grubs…and his…his breeding barb, whatever that is.” Brynn shook her head. “It was so strange.”

“I know what it looked like he was trying to do,” Varin growled. He was so angry Brynn thought she could see little pinpricks of red in the centers of his pupils. “I’ll fucking kill him!”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort, Kindred!”

Suddenly her father and mother were sweeping onto the balcony and her father had a small silver remote in his hand.

“Let’s see if a taste of the pain collar calms your insolence,” the King said. He pressed a button and Varin’s big, muscular body suddenly went rigid and then began to tremble. But still he tried to reach for X’izith, who had finally righted himself and was standing upright again at the other end of the balcony.

“What are you doing?” Brynn flew to her father and tried to grab the remote out of his hand. “Stop it please, father! Varin was only trying to protect me! The Sovereign attacked me and he came to my aid!”

“Attacked you, did he?” The King held the remote out of reach and glared at her, not looking at all convinced. “I very much doubt that. More likely you simply misinterpreted a gesture of affection.”

“Was…feeling around…under her skirts…a gesture…of…affection?” Varin somehow managed to rasp out, his big body still tense. Brynn didn’t know how he could talk at all, wracked with pain from the awful collar he was wearing.

“Silence, slave!” The Queen gave Varin a withering look. “It’s a good thing we decided to collar him, tonight,” she said to the King, as though talking about a vicious beast that couldn’t be trusted.

“Indeed.” He nodded. “And using a collar with freeze mode was a good thought on your part, my dear.”

“I thought it might be necessary. He’s grown entirely too attached to Brynnalla,” the Queen said, frowning. “It must be the Kindred Blood bond—it’s gotten entirely out of hand.”

“Please,” Brynn begged. “Please, mother…father—can’t you understand that Varin was just keeping me safe? Please, father—stop hurting him!”

“It’s not your slave you ought to be worried about but your suitor!” her mother snapped. She went over to Sovereign X’izith and put a hand to her heart, her eyes meltingly sincere. “Oh, Sovereign X’izith—I’m so sorry for this little misunderstanding. The Princess had her guard blood-bonded to her at birth—he’s a Kindred and they’re supposed to be excellent body servants. At the time, it was the latest thing and we thought it a good idea. However, he’s become a bit overprotective—I hope he didn’t hurt you?”

“I am unharmed.” X’zith’s eyes rolled strangely in the moonlight but her mother didn’t appear to notice. “And you may rest assured, my interest in the Princess is undiminished by this small episode of violence.”

Brynn’s heart sank at his words but the Queen seemed overjoyed.

“Oh good!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “I’m so glad to hear it!”

The King cleared his throat. “Perhaps we ought to go into my private accounting chamber and discuss the terms?”

“What terms?” Brynn cried, staring up at her father. “Father, please—don’t I have any say in this at all?”

“No!” her mother snapped. She motioned to the retinue of men at arms that had followed her and the King out to the balcony. “Guards—escort the Princess to her private chamber if you please. The ball is over for her.”

“What about Varin?” Brynn cried. “Will you let him go?”

“In a moment—when I feel he’s learned his lesson,” her father said coolly.

Brynn wanted to protest but two burly guards already had her by the arms and were dragging her away.

“Princess!” Varin ground out between gritted teeth, though he was still frozen to the spot.

Before she could even cry out to answer him, Brynn was dragged ignominiously through the ballroom and back down the hall to her chamber. She was shoved inside, none too gently, and the door was slammed behind her.

* * * * *

It seemed like hours later—but was probably less than thirty minutes—when she heard a knock on her door. She rushed to it and saw Varin standing outside. He was still upright and unbowed but there was a terrible shadow in his bronze eyes—the aftermath of the pain he’d been subjected to.

“Oh, Varin!” Heedless for once of any possible prying eyes, she motioned him inside. “Are you all right? I was so worried!”

“Never better, little one.” He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace.

“I’m so sorry my father hurt you—he shouldn’t have done it! I want to take this off you right now.” She reached up to unfasten the thick black pain collar around his neck, only to gasp and cry out when a sharp electric shock burned her fingertips. “Ouch!”

“Sorry, Princess…” He stepped back quickly. “I should have warned you—no one but the King or Queen can take it off. It’s keyed to their touch alone.”

“But it’s not fair!” Brynn wanted to cry. “You shouldn’t have to wear it! You were just trying to keep me safe from that horrible Sovereign X’izith!”

The big Kindred shrugged stolidly.

“I’ve told you before I would bear any pain for you, Princess. I would repeat my actions, even knowing the King would use the pain collar on me.” His eyes flashed. “I couldn’t stand to see that bastard’s hands on you!”

Brynn shivered. “I didn’t want them on me either! They’re so hot and his fingernails are filthy. But…” She swallowed, trying to get the words past the lump in her throat. “But I am very much afraid I’m going to be married to him.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Varin said grimly. “I think your parents are discussing a bride price with him right now.” He frowned. “There’s something not right about that son of a bitch—he even smells wrong. Like half spoiled meat. And what the fuck is wrong with his eyes?”

“They’re awful,” Brynn agreed. “Oh, Varin!” She sank onto the bed and put her head in her hands. “Varin, what am I going to do if my parents sell me to him?”

“Apt choice of words, little one.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know what you’ll do but I do know what we are going to do—we’re going to stick together. Because I’m going with you—even if it’s to the ends of the Universe.”

“Thank you, Varin.” Brynn drew a deep breath and looked at him gratefully. “That means so much to me—more than you can know.”

Once again she had the urge to hug him and once again she pushed the urge away. She was still wearing the ridiculous gown and he was still bare-chested. Not only that, he’d just endured the Goddess alone knew how much agony, inflicted on him by that damn pain collar even though he had only been doing his job in protecting her. Yet Brynn knew if she said anything about wanting a hug, he would hug her even though it hurt him.

I can’t hurt him anymore, she thought, wrapping her arms around her bare shoulders protectively. I can’t! But, oh, how she longed to be held safely in his arms!

With an unhappy sigh, she settled on the edge of her bed. It probably wouldn’t be safe to hug him anyway—who knew if they were being watched?

“I guess there’s nothing to do now but wait,” she said in a low voice.

“That’s right, little one.” Varin blew out a breath. “Just sit here and wait for the bad news. But don’t worry—I won’t leave you.”

“Thank you, Varin.” She looked up and gave him a small, trembling smile. “Even with everything else that’s happening, knowing that you’ll be with me makes me feel better.”

“I’ll be there, all right,” he promised, his bronze eyes blazing. “I’ll never willingly leave your side. That I swear.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Now then—since we’re all at ease, I think we can begin.”

The King settled himself more comfortably in the plush, richly upholstered chair in his private apartment which was hung with tapestries depicting a zanther hunt in gold and silver threads. The Queen settled beside him on an equally rich sofa with pearlescent blue silk pillows embroidered in vermillion flowers.

Sovereign Ysldred X’izith sat stiffly across from them, his long legs splayed out at awkward angles.

“You said in your message that you were very interested in the Princess because of our excellent bloodlines.” The Queen leaned forward eagerly.

“Yes, well—we do come from a long line of royalty.” The King sounded smugly impressed by his own lineage.

“Yes—such genetic perfection and compatibility with my own species is difficult to find.” X’izith nodded stiffly. His right eyeball rolled, apparently looking at the wall while his left jittered, trying to focus on the royal couple.

“Oh, genetic perfection! Did you hear that my dear?” The Queen fluttered importantly, preening at the compliment.

If she or the King noticed the strange way X’izith’s eyes seemed to move independently from each other or the tiny thread of drool hanging from one corner of his thin, red mouth, they certainly didn’t show it. The riches they were hoping to get were of paramount importance—any strange little foibles of the male proposing to take their daughter off their hands and pay handsomely for her into the bargain were not their business.

“Now, the sum you mentioned for the Princess’s bride price in your message was…a-hem, most impressive,” the King said. “Would you be paying that all in gold ore like the kind you included to show your interest, or do you have other assets you’d like to use?”

“If gold ore is acceptable, I have a surplus of it at the moment,” X’izith said, nodding stiffly. “But there is a problem we must address before I can make payment and take possession of the Princess.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” the Queen asked anxiously. “I’m certain we can fix any issue you have, Sovereign.”

“It is the matter of her…” X’izith seemed to be groping for words. “Her maiden barrier. Is it intact?”

“Brynnalla was raised at the convent of the Sisters of Chastity and Obedience so I can assure you with certainty that she is intact. A true virgin,” the Queen said eagerly.

“The fact that she has been with no other male is acceptable,” X’izith buzzed. “But in researching your people, I have learned that females of the royal and noble families have exceedingly tough barriers within their reproductive canals. Is this so?”

The Queen nodded cautiously.

“In some cases, yes. But that was mostly in the past—modern females such as myself…” She preened some more. “Have little difficulty in, ah, accommodating our husbands on the wedding night.”

“Any barrier at all is unacceptable,” Sovereign X’izith declared. “It will impede implantation—I will not take her with the barrier intact.”

“Oh, as to that…” The King cleared his throat. “We did have…methods of dealing with this problem in the past.”

The Queen leaned forward and patted X’izith’s boney knee.

“Don’t worry, my dear Sovereign. We can arrange for an old-fashioned deflowering—tonight if you like. I believe we still keep the equipment down in one of the storage dungeons—don’t we, my dear?”

“Yes—I believe we do.” The King nodded cordially, smiling as though he and his wife hadn’t just decided to torture their only daughter in order to sell her to a complete stranger.

“In that case, if the barrier is removed, I will be happy to, ah, take the Princess off your hands.” X’izith nodded eagerly. “Tonight will be optimal.”

“All right—if you can produce the payment in full, you can have her tonight.” The King nodded.

“Naturally, I have the ore with me in the treasure cache of my ship,” X’izith said. “I have brought it all the way with me from my home planet of Zhymur.”

“Oh, Zhymur…it sounds lovely,” the Queen said vaguely. She stood and nodded at X’izith and the King. “Well, if you two males would like to arrange for the transfer of the bride payment, I’ll go order the Court Physician to get the deflowering equipment ready. It might be in fairly good working order already, you know—we had been talking to the Sultanate of Yorbic Beta who also disliked the idea of a maiden barrier to contend with.” She smiled brilliantly at X’izith. “Of course that was before we received your message and were so very impressed with your, ah… credentials, Sovereign.”

“Yes, most impressive.” The King nodded heartily. “Go see to it, my dear,” he said to the Queen.

“And please do not be lengthy,” X’izith added. “I wish to take possession of the Princess as soon as possible.”

“We’ll have her ready to go in no time,” the Queen promised, as though she was simply getting the Princess packed for a trip. As though she wasn’t about to hurt her only daughter cruelly and deeply and then send her off with a stranger wounded and vulnerable. But of course, Brynnalla’s ancestors had endured deflowering—it used to be a regular part of the pre-joining rituals. They had all survived that and their subsequent marriages and Brynnalla would as well. And if she didn’t, well…the Queen shrugged to herself. It was no business of hers. At least the palace would have a new bathing wing—that would be an excellent consolation for the loss of a daughter she barely even knew.

She was about to go when the King called her back.

“Wait, my dear…” He held out the small, silver remote he’d used to subdue Varin earlier. “Take this in case the Princess’s Kindred guard gets troublesome again.”

“A good thought—thank you.” The Queen took it. “I don’t know what possessed you to buy her such an expensive guard in the first place anyway.”

“I’ve often wondered that myself.” The King sighed. “Of course it would have been necessary to protect her better if we hadn’t had the Crown Prince to take her place.”

“Yes, thank goodness for my dear, sweet Rolando.” The Queen smiled sweetly at Sovereign X’izith. “A pity my son could not be here to meet his sister’s future husband, Sovereign. Maybe you can meet him someday.”

“Perhaps…” X’izith buzzed. “Perhaps even sooner than you think.”

“Um…of course—if you and the Princess should ever come to visit.” The Queen smiled and nodded. “Well, I really must be going if we’re going to meet your schedule.”

“Please do,” X’izith gave a jerky nod of his head. “I am most eager to have the Princess alone on my own planet.”

“You’ll have her before you know it,” The Queen promised and bustled out of the room.

Chapter Sixteen

“Here—your Lady-mother the Queen says you must put on this outfit and then you’re to follow the Court Physician down to the dungeons.” Lady Tasmina thrust a plain white shift at Brynn.

“What? Why?” Brynn took the garment, looking at it uncertainly. It was sleeveless with thin straps to go over her shoulders and a straight skirt that would fall to her knees. It looked more like an undergarment or a sleeping garment than anything she would wear in public outside her chamber.

“Just put it on.” Lady Tasmina gave her a pitying glance. “I’m not allowed to say anything else.”

Brynn was still wearing the pale golden ball gown. She would have taken it off earlier but she and Varin had talked right up until the moment when Lady Tasmina had rapped on the door, saying she had a message from the Queen. Reluctantly, Brynn had sent the big Kindred to wait out in the hall outside her corridor.

Now she wished he was still here, so she could draw strength from his presence—but she feared her head lady in waiting would grow suspicious if she called him in. So she kept her silence and turned her back stiffly to change. She struggled out of the ball gown and, leaving it in a pale gold puddle on the floor, slipped the white shift over her head. The silky material was thin enough to show her breasts and the small patch of curls between her thighs which made Brynn feel nervous and exposed.

“There,” she said, turning back to her head lady in waiting when she had it on. “Now what is all this about?”

“I told you, I’m not allowed to say.” Lady Tasmina sighed. “Please don’t ask again, Princess.”

“But I—oh!” Catching sight of herself in the 3-D viewer, Brynn gasped. The thin white gown had a large slit in the back of it that went from the hem all the way up past her buttocks.

“What is it?” Lady Tasmina sounded bored.

“There’s a tear in this gown—see?” Brynn pointed at it. “I can’t wear it.”

“You can and you must.” Lady Tasmina took her firmly by the arm. “Come—your Lady-mother is waiting and you know the Queen isn’t known for her patience.”

“No!” Brynn pulled away from her pinching hand. “I can’t go out in public like this—not even to go down to the dungeons. And why do I have to go to the dungeons anyway?”

“The Queen just told me to get you dressed and bring you—I’m not allowed to say why. Here.” Lady Tasmina grabbed the plain gray robe Brynn usually wore alone in her chamber—which reminded her of the one she’d had at the convent—and pulled it over Brynn’s shoulders. “Now you’re covered. Let’s go.”

She grabbed Brynn’s arm again and marched her out of her chambers where a retinue of men at arms was waiting to escort her.

Brynn began to feel frightened. Why had the Queen sent a group of armed guards to take her to the dungeons? Was she in some kind of trouble? She looked to Varin, who was standing silently outside her door, a dark, suspicious look on his face.

“Varin,” she asked. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Mistress, but I’m here by your side,” he growled, eyeing the guards mistrustfully.

“Actually…” The captain of the men at arms cleared his throat. “We had orders from the Queen that your slave was not to accompany you, Princess.”

“I don’t care what your fucking orders are—where she goes, I go.” Varin seemed to grow even larger and more menacing as he glared at the other male.

“Oh, well…” The captain fell back a step, licking his lips uncertainly. “You…you’d better be careful, Kindred. I am under orders from her Majesty the Queen herself!” His hand went to his blaster but Varin didn’t move.

“You dare to think of discharging a blaster so close to the Princess?” he snarled. “You think that’s a smart move? I wonder what her Majesty would have to say about such reckless methods of protecting her only daughter?”

“You…I…” Clearly the captain was at a loss for words. He and the other men at arms looked at Varin uncertainly and even Lady Tasmina, who was usually so laconic, looked worried.

“Now, now—you can all calm down. Everything is quite all right, Princess.” Doctor Bri’geth, the Court Physician came walking around the corner, his shoes tapping briskly on the flagstones. He was a kindly older man with stooped shoulders and gray hair and he was almost always smiling whenever Brynn saw him in the halls of the palace. But there was no smile in his faded blue eyes now. He looked serious and sad—which frightened her even more.

“Please, Dr. Bri’geth,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “What’s happening?”

“Come along and I’ll tell you.”

“The Princess isn’t going anywhere until we find out what’s going on,” Varin growled.

“I’m afraid she must come with me so that I can explain.” Dr. Bri’geth frowned. He had always been so kind to her that Brynn couldn’t help trusting him.

“It’s all right, Varin,” she said. “I’ll go. But only as long as you come with me.”

“I won’t be parted from you, Mistress, I swear it.” Varin fell into place behind her, forcing the men at arms to back up a pace.

“Good, then. Let’s be going.” The Court Physician looped Brynn’s arm through his and before she knew it, she was being led from her own private chamber, along the long stone corridors, down five flights of steps, and into the belly of the palace—the dungeons.

It was dark and gloomy and damp with low stone ceilings and cobwebs in the corners. Brynn shivered, wishing she had on thicker shoes. Her little night slippers couldn’t keep her feet warm on the freezing flagstones.

“All right,” the Doctor said, stopping before a pair of plain wooden doors, leading into two different cells. “Now listen to me, Princess—I have orders from your Lady-mother to prepare you for your husband-to-be.”

“My husband to be?” Brynn felt her heart sinking. So her mother and father had decided to sell her off to Sovereign X’izith after all. What was she going to do? “Prepare me how?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“Yes, prepare her how?” Varin growled, coming up to stand beside her.

“That is not your business, Kindred.” The doctor frowned at him stiffly. “This is between the Princess and myself.”

“Not if you’re planning to hurt her it’s not.” Varin crossed his arms over his broad, bare chest. “Explain what in the Seven Hells we’re doing down here, Doctor, or I’m taking the Princess back up to her own chamber where I can keep her safe.”

The Court Physician looked almost as nervous as the captain of the men at arms had but he licked his lips and spoke to Brynn, clearly trying to ignore Varin’s threatening presence.

“All you need to know is that this is necessary for your future joining,” he said, fumbling open the door to the right-hand cell. “I’ll explain everything, Princess, if you’ll just follow me.”

“Why?” Varin growled. “What’s necessary?”

“Just come in and be quiet a moment,” the Court Physician ordered. “All will be made clear.”

Brynn followed the physician hesitantly into the dungeon cell, aware of the comforting presence of Varin at her back.

“What’s in here?” she asked and then looked around to answer her own question.

Against one wall of the dungeon was a pair of thick iron manacles, their chains embedded in the stones. They looked rusty and old as though they hadn’t been used in a long time, but still horribly solid and strong. In fact, nothing in this room looked like it had been used in years—everything was covered in dust and cobwebs.

“Now to begin with, I need you to sit in this chair.”

Doctor Bri’geth was on the other side of the long, low room, gesturing to an old, iron chair with a tall, straight back and arms. Brynn noticed leather straps hanging from the tarnished, silver arms but they weren’t what held her attention—there was no seat on the chair—only a thin iron rim around the edge. It had a solid bottom like a throne so there was no telling what the purpose of the interior hole was.

“What is that? And why does it have a seat like a privy?” Brynn demanded. She was beginning to get extremely nervous now. It was cold and damp in the cell and the low stone ceiling and dim lighting from only one small, flickering glow in the corner made her feel claustrophobic.

There was a strange mechanism which looked rather like a lever with a crude control box attached to the back of the chair. Brynn didn’t like the look of it—the chair or the controls that went with it. They seemed ominous somehow.

Varin had come up behind her and was peering into the hole of the strange rusted iron throne-chair with a grim look on his face.

“Get back from it, Princess,” he said. “Don’t get anywhere near that damn thing—I know what it’s for and you’re not having any part of it.”

“What is it for?” Brynn asked, feeling fear creep up her spine.

“It’s a throne of deflowering.” A new voice—her mother’s voice—came from the doorway.

“What? I…I don’t understand.” Brynn shook her head.

“I do.” Varin put himself between Brynn and her mother. “You cannot do this, your Majesty,” he said warningly. “The King swore to me it would not be done.”

“He said no such thing,” the Queen snapped. “He simply said it wasn’t usually necessary nowadays. But as the Princess’s new suitor doesn’t wish to bother with her maiden barrier, it’s necessary now.”

My maiden barrier? Brynn’s heart started pounding. Was this what deflowering was about? But what could the iron throne with the leather straps have to do with it?

“It’s not going to happen,” Varin growled at her mother. “Brynn is innocent…delicate. You can’t do this to her!”

“I can do whatever is necessary to secure the Princess’s future.” The Queen spoke coldly and there was a warning glint in her eyes.

“You mean you’ll do whatever is necessary to secure your gold,” Varin glared at her. “Well, you’re not doing this.”

“That is enough!” The Queen’s eyes narrowed and she raised her hand, pointing something at him. With a sinking heart, Brynn saw it was the silver remote to his pain collar.

“No!” she gasped but the Queen was already pressing the button.

Varin stiffened in front of her but this time he didn’t fall to the floor. Instead, incredibly, he took a step back and threw out his arms, shielding Brynn completely with his big body.

“You…will not…hurt her,” he gritted out, his deep voice strained with pain.

Brynn could feel his big body vibrating just in front of her own and she could only imagine the agony he was in. But he refused to let himself fall and stood strong, blocking the way to keep her safe.

His display seemed to take even the Queen by surprise.

“Incredible,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I never realized before the lengths to which you would go to serve the Princess, slave …or the amount of trouble you could be.”

She pressed another button on the remote and the trembling of the big Kindred’s massive body suddenly stopped. For a moment Brynn was afraid her mother had killed him and that he would fall to her feet in a moment, dead. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest. If that happened…if she lost him forever that way…

“There—I’ve put him in freeze mode,” her mother said to the men at arms. “Now do your duty and chain him to the wall there while I think of what to do with him. Hurry! This function of the collar doesn’t last forever!”

The men at arms seemed uncertain at first—possibly still frightened that the big Kindred would somehow escape. But after a glare from the Queen, the captain came forward and grabbed one of Varin’s arms. The other men at arms, taking their cues from him, grabbed the other and soon they had him chained in the old, rusty iron manacles against the wall, facing the strange chair. He looked like a statue to Brynn’s horrified eyes—a statue of himself, frozen in place and unable to move.

“Stop it! Let him go!” Brynn would have run to her Kindred but, at a nod from her mother, Dr. Bri’geth had her by the arm again. But this time his grip was steely. Tug as she might, Brynn couldn’t get free. Instead, she stared desperately at Varin. “He’s so still!” she cried. “What have you done?”

“I’ve taken care of the problem,” the Queen said crisply. “One problem at least.” She shook her head and looked at Varin warily. “This level of devotion really is unacceptable. It’s a pity we can’t transfer your guard’s affection and protectiveness to the Crown Prince, your brother, but as he is so fixated on you, I’m afraid it would be quite impossible.”

“Transfer his affection? What are you talking about?” Brynn cried. “Varin is my guard—the only male I want near me!”

“Which is yet another problem,” the Queen snapped. “We can’t have him going with you to cause trouble for Sovereign X’izith on Zhymur, or whatever the name of his planet is.” She crossed her arms and drummed her fingertips as though thinking hard.

Brynn felt like her heart was in her throat and a sense of dread so heavy she couldn’t speak had descended on her. Please, she thought. Oh please, Goddess—don’t let her be saying what I think she’s saying! Don’t let her take Varin away from me! It was what she feared the most and it stopped her heart in her chest to think her worst fear was coming true.

“Can’t…leave…the Princess…with no…protection,” Varin suddenly rasped, clearly forcing the words out. “Bonded…must…protect…”

“So the collar’s freeze function is wearing off,” the Queen snapped. “Lovely. And the first thing out of your mouth is your wish to protect Brynnalla.”

“Because it’s his job—it’s what you bought him to do,” Brynn exclaimed.

“No, it’s gone far past that—far past protection and into obsession.” The Queen shook her head. “To me, it appears that the blood bond we so rashly agreed to is the source of this issue.” She pointed at Varin. “You, slave. You think you have some kind of special tie to the Princess—some right to her just because you’ve been trained to guard her.”

“I’m…devoted to her.” Varin’s words were coming easier now. “More devoted…than you ever were,” he growled at the Queen.

She glared at him furiously.

“Enough! You have embarrassed and insulted me for the last time, slave! I should have you killed!”

Brynn’s heart skittered in her chest like a wild, frightened thing and her palms were suddenly damp with sweat.

“Mother, please no! Don’t do that! I…I’ll do anything you say—go anywhere you want, even with Sovereign X’izith—without a word of complaint. Only don’t kill Varin—please.”

“Brynn, no!” Varin shook his head. “No—don’t do that! You can’t trade yourself for me—I’m supposed to protect you!”

“We protect each other.” Brynn gave him a small, trembling smile and looked back at her Lady-mother the Queen. “Please, mother…”

“Well…” The Queen frowned, clearly weighing her options. “Very well,” she said at last. She turned to Lady Tasmina, who was standing just outside the cell door, watching with wide eyes.

“There’s a slaver ship in the Imperial Docks right now—I know because I bought a few new maids for the East Wing from them. Have a message sent to them at once—tell them I have a slave to sell who’s been trained as an Arena warrior.” She smiled cruelly at Varin. “He ought to fetch a handsome price.”

“I’ll go at once.” The Lady Tasmina curtsied and fled.

“Very good. Now…” The Queen made an impatient motion to Dr. Bri’geth, who was still holding Brynn’s arm in an iron grip. “Go on—get on with it!”

“No!” More of the collar’s effect seemed to have worn off for Varin strained at his chains, dragging on the rusted manacles that held him to the opposite wall. “No, don’t do this!”

“Be silent, slave, or I’ll freeze you again,” the Queen snapped. “And you— do as you’re told, Brynnalla,” she added, glaring at Brynn. “Do as you promised and behave if you want your slave to live.”

“Yes, my Lady-mother,” Brynn whispered, feeling cold and alone. “I…I will keep my word.”

“Good. Now I am going out to be certain the Sovereign isn’t getting too restless.” The Queen pointed at Dr. Bri’geth. “You—hurry up!”

“Yes, my Queen.” He bowed low, still somehow keeping a grip on Brynn’s arm as the Queen swept from the room. “Now then, my dear—just come with me,” he said to Brynn.

“Don’t do this, Bri’geth.” Varin’s voice was low and hoarse and Brynn could see he was still straining at his chains. “Don’t, as you value your life! I swear to all the Gods that ever were I’ll kill you if you hurt her!”

The doctor’s lips thinned. “I am obeying orders from the Queen. I have no choice.”

Brynn was obeying orders too. She gritted her teeth and went with the Court Physician as he led her to the ominous rusted throne. Before she knew it, he was removing her robe and two of the men at arms were pushing her back against the chair.

She felt a sudden stab of fear.

“Wait!” she tried to protest. “Just give me a moment!”

But it did no good—they were too strong for her. Looking over her shoulder, she caught a quick glimpse into the black hole in the center of the chair. She couldn’t be sure but it looked like there was something down there—something silver that gleamed dully in the dim light. What was it? A metal rod of some kind?

Brynn wanted to ask but before she knew what was happening, the cold metal was biting into the backs of her knees and she was forced to sit. Her wrists were being strapped to the cold iron arms of the chair and then someone else was positioning her legs and strapping her ankles down as well.

It all happened so fast that by the time she tried to struggle, it was too late—she was fastened securely to the deflowering chair with no way to get loose. Worse, the slit in her gown was gaping open, making her feel horribly naked as her bare bottom hung down over the hole in the chair’s seat.

Brynn wanted to close her legs but she couldn’t—she was opened…exposed…vulnerable. She thought of the silver rod she’d seen glimmering in the darkness of the throne and a shiver ran through her.

Oh please…oh please no…

“What are you doing?” she gasped, as the guards finished buckling her in place and withdrew. “What’s going to happen to me?” She had an idea of what she was in for but she couldn’t quite let herself admit it. It was like a dark omen-stone clutched in her palm and she couldn’t uncurl her fingers to examine it.

“Princess…” There was a troubled look in the old physician’s eyes. “I need you to understand, this machine was developed in older times, hundreds of cycles ago in fact, when females had…more difficulty on their wedding nights. You see, the physiological make-up of a royal female is such that—”

Suddenly the Queen’s voice could be heard outside the cell door.

“Well? Is it done yet? Is she ready to go?”

“I do not know, my Queen,” one of the men at arms replied. “I have not heard anything since you left.”

“Bri’geth!” The Queen’s voice was raised in anger. “Bri’geth, get out here at once!”

“Yes, my Queen!” The old physician hurried out, leaving Brynn, strapped to the cold iron chair.

“Brynn!” Across from her, Varin strained at his chains. For a moment—a brief, shining moment of hope—Brynn thought one of them was coming loose. But she soon saw it was just her imagination. Ancient and rusted as the chains and manacles might be, they were still terribly strong and heavy. They held her Kindred in place though he twisted in them until streams of blood ran from his wrists where the rusted iron bit into them.

“Varin…” She wanted to cry but she struggled to keep calm instead. “Varin what…what are they going to do? Please tell me it isn’t what I think!”

“Princess…little one…” He strained harder, the blood running down his arms in streams, a look of helpless rage on his face.

“Aren’t you finished yet?” Brynn heard her Lady-mother snap. “The Sovereign is coming and he expects his bride to be ready to go!”

“I was just about to explain the process to the Princess—” the physician began but the Queen cut him off.

“There isn’t time for a lot of blather, Bri’geth. Just get it done.”

“But the Princess is innocent,” the physician exclaimed. “She must be told what is going to happen to her. And I must protest at using this old torture-device of a deflowering throne in the first place! Your Majesty, if you want the Princess’s maiden barrier removed, I can manage it with quite a simple operation in my surgery with the use of local anesthetic to minimize the pain.”

“No,” the Queen snapped. “There’s no time and besides, you know the reason this device was developed in the first place is that it is forbidden for a commoner—even a physician—to touch a royal in their private areas.”

“But I don’t even know the state of the equipment! It may not work correctly—it may injure the Princess—I’ve not even had time to add any lubrication to ease the way!”

The Queen’s voice was as cold as ice—as cold as the iron deflowering throne Brynn was strapped to.

“Get on with it, Bri’geth,” she snapped. “Or lose your head.”

The Court Physician came skittering back into the room, his face down, his eyes lowered. Without looking at Brynn or Varin again, he ran around behind the throne and Brynn heard him doing something to the mechanism attached to it.

There was a mechanical clanking and a grinding of gears that made her heart jump into her chest.

“Dr. Bri’geth?” she gasped in a wavering voice. “Please, what—”

“Don’t do it,” Varin growled. “Don’t you fucking do it, Bri’geth!”

“I’m sorry.” The Court Physician’s voice was brusque now, as though he had decided he had no more time for idle chit-chat…or for guilt. “But this must happen. Princess—brace yourself for the deflowering.”

Brace myself? Brynn thought wildly. Was this what deflowering meant—removing her maiden barrier? But Varin had told her it would hurt and she would bleed and that she ought to be careful not to even press on it too hard!

Suddenly the idea that she’d been trying to hold back came full into the light and the glimpse she’d gotten into the hole of the chair made horrible sense. The long, dull silver rod she’d seen down there was waiting—waiting like a snake about to strike!

She tried with all her might to press her legs together and push up from the chair. But there was another strap—one she’d scarcely noticed before—across her hips. She could do nothing as, with a shrieking of gears long rusted, the silver rod came up and did its work.

Chapter Seventeen

Varin strained against his chains, his wrists cut to the bones by the iron manacles, but he knew the moment it was too late. Knew because he felt Brynn’s pain as his own—as he always had.

He felt her fear and shame and horror as the silver rod pierced between her thighs. He felt her agony as it rammed home inside her with a wicked thrust, ripping her innocence from her, invading her…violating her…changing her forever.

He felt the hot blood run down her thighs as the rod thrust twice more, piercing her painfully to be certain its job was done, before finally withdrawing.

And yet she didn’t make a sound.

Varin had sunk down to the floor by this time, slumped against the cold stone wall in defeat. But he made himself look at her.

Brynn was white-faced and silent. Somehow she had managed not to cry out—but her bottom lip was clenched tight between her small, even white teeth. He saw a trickle of crimson slide down her chin but her eyes were dry. Was she still in shock? Or was she simply holding herself together through some superhuman effort of will?

Varin didn’t know—he only knew he hated himself now.

This was his fault, he told himself—he had failed in his one task—to protect her. He had not been able to save her innocence or keep her from this pain.

I should be killed, he thought dully. Being sold away to another slaver is too good for me. I should die for how I failed her.

“There now. All finished.” Dr. Bri’geth spoke with forced cheerfulness, as though talking to a child he’d just given a quick inoculation to. As though he hadn’t just violated Brynn’s trust as well as her body, Varin thought grimly.

At last Brynn spoke. “Please,” she whispered in a low, broken voice. “If…if you’re finished, can I go now? Can…can you please unstrap me?”

“Of course.” The Court Physician fumbled in his haste to remove her straps. As he did, Varin found he couldn’t even look Brynn in the eyes. He looked down at his bleeding wrists instead, hating himself, wishing himself dead.

I couldn’t help her…I couldn’t save her… It was like a mantra in his head.

And then he heard the pattering of her little feet and knew she was free. Varin expected her to go past him, to leave him behind with good reason. But she stopped in front of him instead. Looking up he saw her slender legs, a thin, trickle of scarlet running down one thigh.

The sight made his heart clench so fiercely he couldn’t breathe. He strained against his chains once more, hating himself with the fire of a thousand suns.

But instead of ignoring or reviling him, Brynn only spoke his name.

“Varin,” she whispered and her voice was little and broken. “Varin, please—can’t you even look at me now?”

Slowly, he made himself look up. Her quiet gray eyes were wounded and he knew her pain wasn’t only physical.

“Princess,” he said hoarsely. “Brynn…I failed you.”

“Don’t talk like that. I…” There was a catch in her voice. “Varin, I’ll never see you again. I want so much to hug you goodbye but you’ve already endured so much pain…”

To hear her talking about his pain, as though her own was nothing, made Varin feel as though his heart was going to burst. He didn’t deserve her touch but Gods, how he wanted it—wanted to hold her in his arms just once more before they were parted forever!

“Little one,” he said roughly, looking up at her. “I told you before, I don’t care about the pain. If you need a hug, come get one.”

With a little cry of pure misery, she threw herself into his lap. Wrapping her slender arms around his neck, she pressed herself against him and at last the tears came. Hot and salty, they wet his neck and chest as she sobbed against him.

Varin felt the familiar electrifying pain of his obedience band but he didn’t give a damn—he only wished he could hold her closer. Chained to the wall as he was, all he could do was let her hug him and whisper in her ear.

“Little one, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“I love you,” she whispered back. “I don’t want to go somewhere I’ll never see you again. Varin, I love you.”

Her sudden admission startled him and filled his heart to overflowing.

“Brynn,” he murmured and then she was kissing him—desperate, inexpert kisses that were clearly her first—they were filled with passion and sincerity nonetheless.

Varin kissed her back, wishing desperately that he could put his arms around her. Wishing he could take her away from this horrible place and keep her safe forever…

And then someone was yanking her away—up and out of his lap.

* * * * *

Brynn gasped at the abrupt ending to her first kiss.

“You little slut—no wonder you were so eager to see him saved,” the Queen snapped, glaring down at her. “Was there even any need to use the deflowering throne at all or had the two of you already found a way to get around your slave’s obedience bracelet long before this?”

“Your Majesty…” Dr. Bri’geth, who had been standing to one side, possibly trying to deal with his guilt as Brynn and Varin said their goodbyes, came forward hastily. “My Queen, please,” he exclaimed. “I assure you, the Princess was a virgin! Just look at the blood.” He pointed to Brynn’s slender thighs, smeared with crimson and Brynn felt a dull shame.

Was a virgin, she thought. I was, but not anymore. I’m no longer intact. The Sisters always said no proper male would want a female if she wasn’t intact.

“I don’t care if she was a virgin or not—she’s still a little slut. Consorting with a slave no less!” the Queen hissed, shaking her. “You’re lucky your father and I found a husband for you, young lady—if not I would be casting you out on the street.”

“Mother please—I’m sorry!” Brynn cried. “I can’t help it—I love Varin! Please…please don’t make me marry Sovereign X’izith! If you don’t want me anymore, just disown me and let me go. But don’t force me to join with a male I don’t love!”

“The deal is done—you’re bought and paid for,” her mother snapped. “And speaking of deals, the one you made with me is off.”

“What?” Brynn looked up at the Queen with wide, wet eyes and felt a tremble of dread run through her. “What do you mean?”

“Your Kindred slave is as good as dead.” The Queen gave her a look of cruel satisfaction. “I hope you enjoyed saying goodbye to him, Brynnalla because you’ve signed his death warrant yourself.”

“What? No! Please, no!” Brynn gasped and struggled, trying desperately to get back to Varin. He had risen, still chained to the wall with blood dripping from his wrists. There was a look of pure rage in his eyes—a hate so deep it could only be born of love.

Love for me, Brynn thought miserably. But I killed him—it’s my fault he’s going to die!

“I might be a slave,” the big Kindred growled, glaring at the Queen. “But I care more for your daughter than you ever did. You’re supposed to protect your children—not fucking sell them off to the highest bidder!”

“No more of this!” the Queen declared. “I will not stand by and be insulted by a—

“What is the problem? I expected the Princess delivered to me some time ago. Where is she?”

The buzzing, familiar voice made Brynn’s skin crawl. With dread, she looked up and saw the thin, awkward form of Sovereign X’izith coming down the dungeon hallway. He was so tall he had to stoop, crouching over in an almost insectile way with his elbows splayed awkwardly out to the sides as he rubbed his filthy hands together.

“Oh, my deepest apologies, Sovereign!” the Queen exclaimed. “I had just finished taking care of the matter with the Princess and I was about to get her cleaned up and bring her to you.”

“You will do this at once! You have your payment and I tire of waiting,” X’izith hissed. “You will prepare the Princess and place her—with the proper tribute of a new bride going to her husband—in the ship I have waiting just outside your balcony. It will take her to my home planet.”

“Oh, of course, Sovereign.” The Queen dropped a little curtsey. “And…if you do not mind me asking, where will you be?”

“I will follow shortly thereafter,” X’izith hissed. “But first I would have words with this male who disrespected and attacked me.”

“Oh yes.” The Queen’s face hardened. “Do just as you please with him—he is under a death sentence anyway.”

“No!” Brynn struggled in her mother’s grip but she couldn’t break free. “No—don’t hurt him!”

“Do not worry yourself, Princess…” X’izith’s strange purple eyes jittered in their sockets and his thin lips twisted into a parody of a smile. “I will not touch your beloved slave. I wish only to speak to him.”

“No!’ Brynn cried again. “Varin!”

“Brynn!” he shouted but then, with the Queen on one side and the captain of the men at arms on the other, Brynn was being dragged down the dungeon hallway, separated forever from the only man she would ever love. Though she fought and cried and kicked, she couldn’t get free.

As they rounded the corner, she felt her heart die inside her.

Never, she thought. I’ll never see him again…

Chapter Eighteen

“Now then, slave…” X’izith buzzed, staring down at him. He was a tall son of a bitch—Varin would give him that. The Sovereign reminded him of a death mantis—a predatory insect that came out at night to catch other, smaller bugs and eat them alive.

“What is it you want to say?” he demanded. “Or did you just want to take a shot at me while I’m chained up and helpless?”

“Oh, I doubt very much you are ever completely helpless,” X’izith hissed. “You seem most resourceful to me. Which is why I wanted to talk to you. It will give me great pleasure to show you that no matter what you do or how resourceful you are, you will be unable to change the course of events which I have planned.”

“What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?” Varin demanded. They were alone now, the two of them—everyone else had left the dungeon to go with the Queen and Brynn. So his words echoed emptily against the stone walls.

“You shall see what I am speaking of.”

X’izith rose suddenly to his full height so that he loomed over Varin even more. Reaching behind his head, he seemed to be doing something to his scalp. Then, with a sickeningly meaty sound, his face came off, hair and all, to reveal a visage so alien…so wrong…that for a moment Varin struggled to comprehend it.

Huge compound eyes stared at him unblinking and long, gold-tipped antennae unfolded to scan the air. In place of a nose and mouth the thing had curving, serrated mandibles that looked sharp enough to bite off a finger…or a hand.

Goddess above—it’s a fucking insect! he thought, his heart seizing in his chest. A huge one—like the one that carried off Amalthia!

“You—” he choked, and then couldn’t get out any more.

“Yes, me.” the insect thing buzzed in a high, hissing voice. He sounded enormously pleased with himself—if insects could have emotions, that was. “I, Sovereign Ysldred X’izith of the Hive, wish to declare myself to you before I go.”

“Declare what? What…what do you want here?” Varin demanded, his voice sounding hoarse and unreal in his own ears.

“What do I want with Galen Prime, you mean? Why to harvest it, of course.” X'izith’s gold-tipped antennae twitched. “The Hive have had their eye on this ripe little world for some time, but I had to be certain the females were compatible for breeding purposes first.”

“Breeding purposes?” Suddenly Varin felt sick—so filled with horror that he couldn’t contain it. “The Princess,” he whispered. “Brynn…”

“Will be my latest bride—filled to capacity with royal grubs.” X'izith clicked his curving, serrated mandibles together and Varin could have sworn the bastard was giving him a self-satisfied grin.

“You can’t,” he growled. “Leave her alone! Stay away from her!”

“I will breed her, slave—do you hear me?” X'izith hissed. “Breed her and fill her with my grubs. They will fill her, growing and growing until they eat their way out of her slender little body and she dies in agony. Do you hear me?”

“I’ll kill you!” Varin raged. A red curtain of pure fury dropped over his vision—surging forward, he yanked against his chains. “I’ll fucking kill you, you son of a bitch!” he roared.

“You will not live to see the light of another day,” X'izith buzzed in smug satisfaction. “Nor will any who live on this little planet. As soon as I have word that the ship with the Princess on it is on the way to my Hive, we will descend on this little world and pick it clean. There will be nothing left—not a single inhabitant will survive our culling. The females will be taken for the breeding and gestation of common grubs and the males and children will be thrown into the flesh pits for food. All…shall…die.”

“No…no!” Varin shook his head, unable to take in the enormity of what the tall, insectile bastard was saying. “You can’t do that—can’t kill so many innocents!”

“I can and I will.” X'izith stood back and cocked his head to one side, staring at Varin with his black, soulless eyes. “I just wanted you to know that before I left, slave. I wanted you to die in agony…and now I am certain you will.” He clicked his mandibles with satisfaction. “Just pray your mistress, the Queen, kills you before I and my soldiers come to do it. No matter what method of death she chooses, it will be easier than what we have planned.”

Then he put back on his mask and strode out into the stone corridor, his boots clicking emptily in the echoing silence.

* * * * *

Varin shouted himself hoarse, trying to get someone’s attention—anyone who would listen. Anyone who would stop Brynn from getting on that ship and arm the planet against the coming invasion.

But the one who finally came to see him was the Queen.

“What is it, slave?” she demanded, glaring at him. “If you’re protesting your own death, don’t bother. Luckily for you, the slavers I had Lady Tasmina send a message to sent me an offer too good to refuse—even for the satisfaction of killing you.” She arched an eyebrow. “So you’re to be sold, not killed. Not that I told Brynnalla that before she left. Let her think you dead—it’s what she deserves, the little slut!”

“No.” Varin shook his head. “No, tell me you didn’t already send her off on that ship! Tell me you didn’t give her to him!”

“She went to be with her new husband,” the Queen said primly. “There’s no use getting upset about it—ladies are wed and leave their home planets. It happens all the time.”

“And does it happen all the time that the lady’s new husband is a fucking insect?” Varin demanded.

“What?” The Queen glared at him. “What are you talking about? You’re not even making sense!”

“I’m talking about the fact that Sovereign X'izith isn’t humanoid,” Varin exclaimed. “After you left he stayed here to gloat—and the first thing he did was to remove his mask.”

“Mask? What mask?” the Queen demanded.

“The mask that makes him look almost humanoid but not quite. Think about it,” Varin told her urgently. “You know there’s something wrong with him! His hair is a strange color…his limbs are all off at odd angles… he even smells wrong!”

“No.” The Queen frowned. “He’s simply from a different species. And if his features seem a bit strange…”

“A bit strange?” Varin roared. “His eyes move around in their sockets like a pair of fucking balls—bouncing around like they’re not looking at anything. And that’s because they’re not—his true eyes, the ones he had under the mask, are huge—insect’s eyes! He’s an insect!”

The Queen began to look uneasy but she shook her head.

“That’s ridiculous. A giant insect dressed as a man—who ever heard such desperate fairy stories? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, slave.”

“Listen to me,” Varin begged her in a rough voice. “I’m not making this up! He told me he intends to strip all of Galen Prime once he’s sure the Princess is well on her way to his Hive. And as for her…as for Brynn…” He swallowed, his throat dry with dread and horror. “He wants to implant her with his…with his Goddess damned seed. He said he’ll fill her with fucking grubs. Do you hear me?”

The Queen’s eyes had been growing wider and wider but now her face clenched tight and she gave a short, sharp shake of her head.

“No,” she said. “You’re lying. And I won’t hear any more of it. Guards!” she called down the corridor. “Come escort this slave to the merchant who is waiting at the top of the dungeon stairs. He has already been paid for—they can be off at once.”

“No!” Varin struggled as they came forward to unlock him. “No, you have to let me go—go to the Princess. And then you need to mobilize the entire fleet! Tell the Master of Ships he has to—”

“Enough—I won’t listen to another word of this fear-mongering!”

Raising the silver remote to his collar, the Queen pressed a button and Varin felt a surge of the purest agony he had ever felt stab through him. It was so great, he felt like his head was exploding.

No, the Princess—must get to Brynn!

He struggled, fighting as hard as he could but at last the pain was too much. With a final shout, his vision filled with a burst of brilliance and he sagged in his chains, unconscious.

Chapter Nineteen

“Finally waking up, eh? Took you long enough. It’s been near on a solar week since they brought you in.”

The unfamiliar voice in his ear made Varin jerk awake, his eye scanning the darkness. He was chained somewhere—maybe in the hold of a ship? He could hear the hum of the engines around him and there was also the sound of many people breathing or shifting restlessly in their sleep.

“Slaver,” he remembered aloud. “I was sold to a slaver—the Queen sold me.” There was a thick manacle around his left wrist, covering his obedience band which still throbbed despite the way he’d shredded his arms almost to the bone trying to get free and save Brynn from her fate.

I failed her…failed her and they took her away…

The memory surged through him and made him yank on the thick chain that bound him to the wall. He had to get loose! Had to get back to her and save her before that evil insect bastard did what he had promised!

“Don’t bother trying to get free,” the voice beside him advised. “It’s a fool’s errand, so it is. These manacles and chains they got on us are pure titano-silver. Ain’t no getting out of one—lessen you’re willing to cut your damn hand off.”

“I will if I have to,” Varin said grimly. “Anything to get out of here and get back to where I need to go.”

“Oh, and where’s that? Back to Brynnalla of Galen?” his companion asked.

“How did you—wait…” Varin realized he was bare-chested. “You must have read her name on me.”

“It’s kinda hard to miss,” the other voice said dryly. “And it’s not always so dark in the hold. Sometimes they give us a bit of light.”

As he spoke, the ship lurched, causing a rustling and a few half-voiced protests from the other passengers—(other slaves Varin wondered?) A nearby door swung open a crack and a shaft of light crept in—enough for him to see his companion.

He was an older male, balding and paunchy with a strange set of intricate blue designs tattooed on both cheeks and temples. He saw Varin studying him and grinned.

“Yeah, I ain’t much to look at, am I? Nothing like so fine a specimen as yourself. You might wonder why the slavers are botherin’ to transport my sorry ass across the system.”

“Why are they?” Varin asked bluntly.

“Why, because my first master did me a great service, lad—he had my brain reconfigured. I’m a Tempath.”

Varin had heard of such beings—those whose brains had been altered to hold vast amounts of information—far more than even the biggest computer system. Because of their vast storage capacity and the fact that locking information inside a living being was more secure than trusting it to a machine, Tempaths were often sent great distances with secret communications. They were considered the ultimate in knowledge storage and secure transfers of information.

He frowned. “I have heard of such things but I’ve never met one of your kind,” he said to the male beside him.

“Well, I’m pleased to meet you—Jorath’s the name. And you are…?”

“Varin,” Varin said. “You must have seen a lot in your time.”

“I have. I’ve been all over the galaxy and beyond,” the old male boasted. “Even been beyond Night’s Window.”

Night’s Window—also known as “The Blind” by some peoples—was a vast cloud of cosmic dust that ran for light years in every direction. It was considered impenetrable by everyone—at least, everyone Varin had ever heard of.

“Nobody’s been through Night’s Window,” he said, frowning. “You’re joking—or lying to me.”

“If I’m lying then why do I know what you are?” Jorath challenged. “You’re Kindred, through and through—I knew it the first minute I saw you.”

“You know my people?” Varin sat up, suddenly interested. “You’ve seen others like me?”

“Aren’t many left on this side of the Blind,” the old Tempath said. “But on the other side, there are all kinds of Kindred. Beast Kindred…Blood Kindred…Twin Kindred…” He looked at Varin curiously. “What kind are you?”

Varin shook his head.

“I don’t know. I have no memory of my early years. No memory of anything before my bonding with my Mistress, Princess Brynnalla.”

Just saying her name made his heart ache. Gods, what must she be going through right now? Had she reached the Hive which X’izith had spoken of yet? Was he hurting her even now?

“Gods!” he muttered and yanked again on his chain.

“Simmer down, Kindred,” Jorath said dryly. “Even if you did manage to get free, there’s not a hell of a lot you could do in mid flight. We’re due to dock at Helion Gamma in a few more solar hours—that’s the place to make a break for it. If you don’t mind having holes burned in you by one of the slavers’ blaster, that is.”

“Helion Gamma…where is that in relation to Galen?” Varin muttered to himself, trying to think. “Or to Zhymur for that matter?”

That was the name of X’izith’s home planet, wasn’t it? He had only what the Queen had said in passing to go on but he hoped she’d gotten the name right. It was his only clue to Brynn’s whereabouts.

“Zhymur?” The old Tempath’s voice was suddenly hoarse. “Why in the universe would you want to go to such a hell hole as that cursed place?”

“You know it?” Varin looked at him eagerly.

“I know of it.” The male shivered. “More than I want to, anyway. One of my masters was trying to find a way to conquer the Hive. He sent spies—a lot of them. Only one got out.” He tapped his temple. “I carry his memoirs here, poor bastard. What he saw there drove him mad.”

“What did he see?” Varin dreaded the answer but he had to know. “Please, my Mistress was taken there—I have to know!”

“Your Mistress—was she young or old?” Jorath asked.

“Young.” Varin’s throat nearly locked up. “Young and so…so innocent.” Though not as much as she had been—Goddess curse the Queen and her insistence on having her own daughter hurt and deflowered!

“She’ll be taken as a Breeding Queen then,” Jorath said. “Gods, Kindred—I’m sorry. That’s no fit fate for any female, even one that kept you in bondage.”

“She didn’t keep me in bondage. I love her,” Varin growled. “I’m devoted to her until my last breath—I have to get back to her and save her.”

“Impossible,” the old Tempath said. “My master tried with a force of thousands and all they got was chopped up and thrown in the Hive’s Flesh Pits for their troubles.”

“I don’t have an army of thousands—I just have one—me,” Varin said. “And I’m going back no matter what I have to do to get there.”

“Provided you have the time,” Jorath remarked. “I saw the access port on the small of your back when they dragged you in here, Kindred. How long until you need a new slave chip?”

“Not long,” Varin admitted. “Which is why I have to get back to Brynn and save her before it’s too late.”

Jorath shook his balding head.

“That’s a Kindred, for you. Once you’re bonded to a female you’ll do anything for her—even die.”

Varin was intrigued. “Are you saying devotion to a chosen female is a trait of my people?”

“I’d say it’s the defining characteristic.” The Tempath shook his head again. “You’re all damn fools when it comes to women.”

“I love her,” Varin said again. “And I’m sworn to protect her. I’m going to get out of here and go back to her no matter what I fucking have to do to get there.”

“Ah, well—the Goddess favors fools. You’re damn lucky we happen to be chained side by side, Kindred…” The Tempath tapped his temple again. “I carry the star charts of four systems up here. I can tell you how to get back to your lady-love Mistress and everything I know about the Hive too. How the hell you get yourself out of here and go seeking after her is your look-out, though.”

“Thank you,” Varin said roughly. “I am in your debt.”

“No debt.” Jorath gave him a crooked smile. “I may think you’re a damn fool but that doesn’t mean I’m not a hopeless romantic at heart. With all my knowledge, it’s love I understand the least…and wish to know the most.” He sighed. “Well, then—let me see what I can tell you.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and Varin saw the strange blue patterns on the old male’s cheeks and temples begin to light up and blink in a complicated pattern. It reminded Varin of a computer accessing information.

At last Jorath’s faded eyes popped open and he smiled.

“All right, listen up…”

* * * * *

“Will we be there soon?” Brynn asked the strangely silent pilot who was flying her new husband’s ship.

It felt horrible and wrong to think of Sovereign X'izith that way but there was no way around it—her parents had sold her to him and that was that. She was his wife—or as good as his wife. She assumed there would be some kind of ceremony once they got to his planet—wherever it was.

Somewhere in another sector, she thought dully. She didn’t even remember the name of the world that would be her new home—nor did she particularly care. She was going there alone, without Varin. And it wasn’t like she could imagine him somewhere else safe without her. He was…was…

She couldn’t make her mind think the word and she certainly couldn’t say it out loud. She kept hearing her mother’s voice in her ear saying, “You signed his death warrant yourself.”

I shouldn’t have kissed him—shouldn’t have touched him at all. But she’d just been through a horrible, traumatic experience—she was in pain, wounded inside and out. And it was the last time she would see him. She hadn’t been able to help herself—she’d had to hug him, to tell him how she felt. That she loved him…

My love got him killed, she thought, at last admitting what was in the back of her brain. I killed him by loving him. It’s my fault he’s gone. My fault he’s dead…

Because he certainly was at this point. She had been traveling for over a solar week now, give or take. The ship had a hyperdrive—that much she had ascertained by asking over and over until one of the crew finally answered her. But apparently not a very fast one. And even with faster-than-light technology, the vast distances of space took time to cross.

Oh Varin…my Kindred…it’s my fault, what happened to you! All my fault! They never should have bonded you to me and branded you with my name. Your destiny was death and all because of me.

The thought made her want to weep—to wail and cry and sit in a corner and give up. But that was pretty much all she’d been doing for the two whole weeks they had been traveling. Brynn just felt heavy now—all cried out and weary past the point of despair. She had only come wandering up to the cockpit because she didn’t know what else to do with herself.

With a sigh, she decided to ask her question one more time. If the captain didn’t answer, she would go back to her cold metal corner and try to let sleep take her. It was the only relief she had although even in her sleep she dreamed of Varin—dreams which could not be true, she was certain, since in them she saw him still alive and well.

“Are we almost there?” she asked again, looking at the silent captain who was working the controls. “Can you answer me? Please?”

At last her question seemed to penetrate. “Our destination…is very near. Just through…the Nebulon worm hole. Please…strap down…for interstellar travel.”

He spoke in a halting monotone, as did all the crew, never looking at her and never changing his tone. Brynn wondered for the thousandth time what was wrong with him and how Sovereign X'izith had managed to find a whole crew of such zombies to run his ship.

At least he’s not on the ship with me, she thought and shivered. She was more than glad that she’d taken this journey alone instead of with her husband-to-be. She couldn’t bear the thought of those hot, filthy hands on her skin again. Just the idea of what she might have to endure once she was reunited with her new spouse made her wonder why she cared about reaching her ultimate destination at all.

I wish I was back on Galen with Varin, having one of our long talks, she thought miserably. But that part of her life was over—it was never coming back. Varin was gone and the past was the past.

Sighing heavily, she went to strap herself down to one of the blast couches. The thought occurred to her that she shouldn’t strap down—that she should let the intense g-forces and turbulence of the worm-hole travel batter her against the metal sides of the ship. Maybe it would even kill her.

For a moment, her hands hesitated on the buckles. Would it be so bad? Maybe she could be with Varin if she died…

But then something made her fasten herself to the couch anyway. I guess I must want to live, she thought with dull surprise. Why is that? What is there left to live for?

Brynn didn’t know. She closed her eyes as the ship entered the worm hole and let the g-forces press her down like a giant, invisible heavy hand. What was the point of anything anymore?

Chapter Twenty

“Now’s your chance,” Jorath hissed. “We’re docked on Helion Gamma. In the next few minutes the slavers will decide which of us to sell. Except for me, of course. I’m bound for Remax Six so my new master can make use of the maps I carry.”

There was pride in the Tempath’s voice, Varin thought. Pride he had felt himself—the pride of a useful slave—one his master or mistress cannot do without.

The Princess can’t do without me, he thought grimly. Not if she’s going to survive. He just hoped he wasn’t too late—he’d already been traveling in the wrong direction for a standard week. Fortunately, Jorath’s interstellar maps indicated a stable wormhole not far from the Helion system that dumped out close to Zhymur. All he had to do was steal a ship and head right for it. He’d be there in no time—if he could just get out of here.

He thanked all the Gods that ever were that piloting had been part of his training. His obedience band and slave chip had put his loyalty above reproach and the King had thought he might have to take the Princess to different functions around Galen. So piloting and Arena fighting, had been his two main courses of study while he waited for Brynn’s eighteenth birthday and her return to the royal palace.

Of course, that was before the King and Queen had decided the Crown Prince was the only heir they needed and Brynn was a disappointment fit only to be sold off to the highest bidder, Varin thought bitterly. Those bastards, they deserved…

They’re getting everything they deserve and a whole lot more, whispered a grim little voice in his head.

Varin felt his stomach knot and knew the voice was right. According to the information Jorath possessed, once the Hive decided to harvest a world, the decimation was systematic and complete. The King and Queen who had bought him and had him trained before selling him and betraying their only daughter were probably both dead now, rotting in the flesh pits or digesting in the gullets of the Hive workers. The Crown Prince too—and all the people on Galen. He thought of friends and rivals, other slaves as well as commoners. They were all gone now…all dead.

And Brynn is going to be dead too if you don’t get out of here. Come on, Varin—get ready!

Closing his eyes all but a slit, he watched the door, pretending to be asleep. Soon enough, he heard boots on the metal floor and the door swung open, revealing one of the slavers.

It was a slizix, as its green skin and four arms attested. Slitted reptilian eyes surveyed the room and Varin held his breath, waiting to see if he would be chosen.

Jorath had briefed him on the ways of the slavers—a cautious crew by his account.

“They view us remotely first,” he’d told Varin. “To make sure everything is right before sending one of their own number in to unlock the slaves they want. But he’s not the one that unlocks the titano-silver cuffs—oh, no—that’s also done by remote. So until he gives the word, your cuff stays on. And they don’t unlock the cuff until the one chosen to come do the dirty work puts the pain collar on you.”

Varin had had enough of pain collars to last him a lifetime. The thick black collar he’d worn his last night at the palace had been taken off—presumably because it was expensive. He could almost hear the Queen demanding that the collar be removed—that he was out cold anyway and the pain collar wasn’t included in the package. He was glad to have it off—and he didn’t intend to put on another one or let anyone else put one on him.

He eyed the slizix slaver, his eyes automatically searching for and finding weak spots.

Only one weapon—a blaster in the left top hand, whispered the little voice in his brain. The other three hands are filled with pain collars and something that must be a remote—they must plan to sell a lot. He’s favoring his right leg—maybe an old injury? Have to watch out for the tail—they use them like a fifth arm.

However, the tail could also be a weak spot. There was a little smooth patch on the underside that was extremely sensitive and could be leveraged as a pressure point—if you could get to it.

Varin was glad, now, that he’d had the opportunity to fight one of these big bastards in the Arena once. They were challenging but not impossible to beat and he intended to beat this one, take his blaster, and get the Seven Hells off the slave ship.

He watched the slaver, moving around the hold where at least fifty other slaves were chained, talking in his hissing language to the others in his crew who hissed back over the comlink. Varin had never studied slizix but he was gifted with languages and had picked up quite a bit as he prepared for his match against one of the scaly, reptilian creatures in the Arena.

Every once in a while the slaver would stop in front of a slave and confer with his shipmates. After a hissing conversation via the overhead comlink, he would either move on or stoop down to fasten a slave collar around the chosen slave’s neck with two of his four hands while holding the blaster on him with a third.

As soon as the collar was on, the slaver pressed his remote, held in the fourth hand, to activate the collar and waited until the slave rose obediently to a crouching position. Then he hissed to his shipmates again.

Only then did the titano-silver cuff unlock and the slave was sent to stand in line with the other slaves, which were all frozen in place by the collars they wore, just as Varin had been frozen the night before.

If he picks me, he’ll stoop down to put on the collar, Varin told himself. That’s the time to act.

But what if he wasn’t chosen? Jorath had said that the next stop the slaver ship was making was at Remax Six—another six standard months in the wrong direction. If he didn’t get off here and start heading back towards Zhymur, Brynn was as good as dead. Of course, she might be dead already but Varin refused to let himself entertain that thought.

She’s not dead, he told himself fiercely. She’s not dead and I’m going to get her—going to save her before it’s too late!

At last the scaly green feet of the slaver came to a stop before him. Varin made a little snoring sound and shifted, as though moving in his sleep. Best to put the slaver off his guard.

“A strong one, this one. Trained for personal service or Arena fighting, so said she who sold him,” he heard the slizix hiss. “Shall we put him up for sale?”

“Negative,” the comlink hissed back. “Remax Six has a bigger fighting circuit than any in the Helion system. He will sell for more there.”

“But his slave chip needs to be replaced soon,” the slizix objected, still eyeing Varin critically. “There are none for sale here and the Queen of Galen only gave us one when she sold him to us. We should sell him here before he expires and we lose our investment.”

“The chips are easy enough to replace,” hissed the voice on the comlink. “Even a med-droid can do it. He should survive the change easily. Keep him to sell on Remax Six.”

“Very well.” The slizix slaver straightened up and Varin saw that his chance was almost gone.

It was now or never.

Heart pounding, he waited for the slaver to take a step, then shot out his foot and tripped him.

The slizix, who had clearly been fooled into thinking he was asleep, was caught off guard. He stumbled heavily and went down on one knee, vulnerable for just a moment.

Quick as a flash, Varin reached with his right hand and caught the slaver by his long, scaly green tail. He felt the underside, his fingers probing until he found the smooth patch he’d been looking for. He took a good grip and squeezed ruthlessly.

“Aiiiaaaiii!” screamed the slaver and began to writhe and jerk crazily, trying to get free. The other slaves—the ones who weren’t frozen—began shouting and cursing and laughing but Varin ignored them all. He held on tight to the thrashing tail. Probing this spot was like grabbing a humanoid by his balls and twisting. He intended to use it to his advantage.

“The blaster,” he hissed in slizix. “Give it to me!”

He barely even had to ask. The slaver’s grip on his weapon was already loose as he thrashed around, trying to get free. He dropped it into Varin’s lap and moaned.

“There! Now let me go—let me go!”

Varin did, but only to scoop up the blaster. He would have liked to hold the blaster in his left hand and keep hold of the slaver’s tail with his right but the chain was too short—his left had was effectively useless in this situation.

The minute he had the blaster, he pointed it at the writhing slaver and looked up at the black comlink on the wall.

“Unlock my manacle and let me go free,” he ordered in slizix. “But first bring me the slave chip.”

“Never!” The comlink hissed back. “We do not release slaves.”

“The this one will die.” Varin rammed the pointed end of the blaster into the base of the slizix slaver’s spine. “I don’t want to kill him but I will if I have to.”

“Kill him then,” was the instant reply. “He knew the risks going in—we do not yield to threats.”

For a moment Varin didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t counted on the slavers being such ruthless bastards they wouldn’t let him go, even to save one of their own. The wounded slizix lay whimpering on the floor—clearly he had given up hope and was preparing to die. That more than anything decided Varin that the other slizix were telling the truth—they really would let him kill the other slaver before they would let him go.

Have to get myself out of this then.

He studied the titano-silver band and the chain linked to it.

“Don’t try it, lad,” Jorath muttered to him. “Nothing cuts through that stuff. And the ricochet—“

But Varin was already taking careful aim at the chain and pulling the blaster’s trigger.

There was a blinding flash of light and another agonized scream from the slaver, who now had a smoking hole in his sensitive tail. The blaster beam had ricocheted off the smooth metal wall and gone wild. The chain hooking Varin to the manacle was, unfortunately, completely intact.

“Give it up, lad,” Jorath advised in a low voice. “You did your best but there’s no way out! If you stop now, they might still let you live. I think they paid a pretty penny for you—they’ll want to see a return on their investment.”

“No,” Varin growled. He looked again at the chain and manacle holding him to the wall. The metal was all completely invulnerable—he couldn’t cut it or melt it with the blaster because the super strong alloy wouldn’t melt or break.

But there was one vulnerable place—one area that could be cut if he wanted his freedom badly enough. If he wanted to save Brynn.

I have to, he thought. His own words came back to him—his promise to bear any pain, to do anything necessary to protect her. His vow—the one he had given when he was first bonded to her as a baby—was being called into question. Would he be found worthy…or wanting?

Worthy—he wanted to be worthy of her love. He had failed her once—he wasn’t going to fail her again. With a low curse he braced himself and pointed the blaster at his own arm, directly below the titano-silver manacle.

For you, Princess, he thought.

Clenching his jaw, he pulled the trigger.

* * * * *

The ship landed on a bare field covered with sparse gray vegetation and no other landmarks that Brynn could see except for a huge hole in the ground. She got out, taking the steps from the ship down to the gray, dry ground at the captain’s behest, and went closer to the hole—although she really didn’t want to.

Standing on either side of the black mouth opening into the earth were two strange sentries. They were tall and thin but the light of the planet was so dim, Brynn had a hard time making out anything else about them other than their size—huge—and their coloring—dark.

Brynn stopped in front of the hole with her escort of the silent captain and three of his equally silent crew. The captain came out in front of their party and the two sentries lowered their bulbous heads to him. For a moment it seemed to Brynn they were sniffing the captain before allowing him entry but that was ridiculous—wasn’t it?

What oddly shaped helmets they wear, she thought, watching them. How can they possibly see out of them?

The two sentries appeared to converse with each other in a high, buzzing language and then finally they withdrew and allowed the captain and his men and Brynn to enter.

The dusty gray trail led steeply downwards and Brynn couldn’t avoid the feeling that she was somehow walking into a grave. Or worse, an open mouth.

Nonsense, she told herself sternly. Stop thinking like that. It’s just a strange planet, that’s all. You’re just nervous. But oh, Varin—I wish you were here with me right now! I don’t want to go in here alone. I wouldn’t feel nearly so nervous and worried if you were with me!

A little sob rose in her throat but she pushed it back down. She had to leave the past behind. There was nothing to do but go on.

Once inside, the ground underfoot grew first damp, then positively wet. It squished and squelched unpleasantly under Brynn’s slippers and she wished she had on thicker shoes—thicker shoes but a lighter dress.

She was wearing a ridiculously elaborate pale pink ball gown her Lady-mother the Queen had forced her into after a quick shower following her deflowering. She’d said something about Brynn looking decent for her future husband but Brynn had been too upset to think about it at the time. Now the full skirts felt heavy and cumbersome and it occurred to her that they would trip her up and weight her down if she tried to run.

She tried to push the thought away as ridiculous. Why would she run from her new home?

“Where is this place? Is it the entry hall?” She looked around herself uneasily. The long, dark hallway reminded her of somewhere she’d been before, but she couldn’t think where that would be. Maybe the dungeons under the castle?

But no, even though they were dark and fusty, the dungeons were still fairly dry. And they didn’t have that sickeningly sweet scent of rotten meat mixed with something else—what was it? Some kind of syrup or honey?

Brynn couldn’t quite place the smell but she didn’t like it. It reminded her of how Sovereign X'izith had smelled. Also, his house didn’t look anything like a royal palace—at least not any she’d ever seen. What kind of man made his home in the earth like this? Was it just the custom of his people?

She could barely even see where she was going. There was only a little light—a dim, phosphorescent glow that came from gray patches of what looked like mold on the walls and ceiling. But who ever heard of lighting their home with mold?

Suddenly, something rushed up to her. Brynn couldn’t see it clearly in the dim light but it seemed to be about the size of a large canis—coming just to mid-thigh on her.

She gasped and jumped back, trying to avoid the thing but it came closer, nosing at her skirts despite her attempts to kick it away. It made a hissing-clicking sound and skittered to one side when her foot connected with its oddly hard body. But then it came right back as though the blow hadn’t hurt it at all.

“What is this thing?” Brynn gasped, turning to the captain for an explanation. “Please—can’t you make it leave me alone?”

“Negative,” the captain replied in his slow, halting tone. “You must…be marked…to enter.”

“Marked? Marked how? By what?” Brynn demanded.

Her question was soon answered in the strangest way imaginable. The large animal—whatever it was—turned its back to her and sprayed her with a thick, sticky mist.

“Ugh! What is this? Get it off of me!” Brynn gasped, wiping at the sticky droplets that adhered to her skin and hair and immediately sank into her cloth of her dress, making it stick to her. They smelled like the rest of this place—sweet and meaty and rotten. Having that stench on her skin turned her stomach but there seemed to be no way to get rid of it now.

“It is…necessary,” was all the captain said. The thing that had sprayed her sprayed him as well and then two of the other crewmembers accompanying them. But when it came to the third, it suddenly seemed to lose interest and scuttled away instead of releasing its fine mist yet again.

Brynn looked back at the unsprayed crewmember with envy. Why was he so lucky as to escape the rain of sticky, disgusting smelling droplets? Before she could ask, the captain took her by the elbow and started leading her further down the long, damp hallway.

But Brynn had had enough.

“I don’t like this,” she said, balking at last and pulling back against his hand on her arm. “I don’t want to go any farther. I need to go outside—I need fresh air.”

The captain’s grip on her arm became cruelly tight.

“We must…go,” he droned implacably.

“Yes, but go where? Where are we going?” Brynn demanded. “This is no proper house—it’s just a long, wet, sticky tunnel and there are things down here. I don’t like it!”

“The Breeding Chamber…is just…ahead,” the captain promised.

Breeding Chamber? Is that what they call the bridal suite here?

Brynn didn’t like the sound of it but there was no getting away. The captain’s grip on her arm was like iron and even if she got loose from him, there were the three other crewmates at her back. Reluctantly, she allowed him to drag her along until at last, the dark, stagnant hallway opened up into a much larger chamber.

“Oh,” Brynn whispered in a breathless voice because this vast, open space was teaming with…something. What exactly, she couldn’t be sure but she didn’t think the inhabitants were humanoid. Some of them looked like the animal that had sprayed her. They scurried along, clearly intent on their tasks and errands. Others appeared to have wings—they flew through the damp, fetid air making a buzzing/humming sound, causing swirling currents of stench to assault her nostrils.

Brynn was beginning to get a bad feeling about this—very bad. Though she couldn’t make out the things all around her very clearly, the flying ones seemed horribly familiar.

Amalthia, she thought, her heart coming into her throat. The thing that carried her away. It was about as big as these…and it could fly…

No, surely not! She tried to push the horrid thought away but it wouldn’t quite go. Sovereign X'izith had come weeks after Amalthia’s abduction. He couldn’t have had anything to do with it—could he?

But Varin’s theory came back to her—the idea that the flying insect thing that took Amalthia had been some kind of a scout. A strange and horrible visitor from another planet, checking to see if Galen was ripe for the plucking…

Could it be that her husband-to-be had sent the creature? Was he some kind of mastermind who could control beasts? Maybe he had learned to control these and now he lived here in harmony with them, bending them to his will…forcing them to do his bidding.

The idea that Sovereign X'izith himself might be one of these awful creatures didn’t enter her thoughts. Despite his strange appearance and smell, Brynn’s mind simply couldn’t go there—not and allow her to remain sane. So it didn’t and she found herself being dragged up to a high, narrow bridge that was made of a tougher material than the squishy, sticky ground of the tunnel.

The bridge spanned what seemed to be a deep pit where most of the awful rotten stench was coming from. The fumes rose up, reeking of death and corruption and Brynn held a hand over her nose to keep from gagging. Goddess above, what was down there? Some kind of open mass grave?

The moment the thought entered her head, she wanted to push it out again but somehow she couldn’t. She couldn’t see down into the pit but her mind kept wanting to show her pictures of butchered bodies and twisted limbs…lifeless eyes staring up at her from the blackness.

Stop it! she told herself fiercely. If you don’t stop it you’ll lose control and fall in yourself. Be calm, Brynn—you have to stay calm!

The risk of falling off the high bridge and into the pit below was real. There were no handholds or guardrails of any kind and Brynn grasped the captain’s arm desperately with the hand that wasn’t covering her nose.

At last they made it over the bridge and found themselves standing in front of an enclosed room lit from within. At least, Brynn thought it was a room but it seemed more like it had grown rather than been built. It bulged out from the side of the wall like a tumor. Inside it, pulsed a pale yellow luminescence that seemed to glow with a kind of rhythm.

Standing outside the entrance to this tumor-room were two more sentries. This time, Brynn’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light and she saw the sentries for what they were.

Their dark uniforms weren’t uniforms at all—they were shells. And the strange, bulbous helmets were their heads. The long feathers they wore at their crowns were antennae and their cloaks were wings.

Her mind couldn’t protect her any more. The protective shell of ignorance was stripped away and the horrible realization broke over her like a cold wave.

Bugs—they’re giant bugs!

And they were staring right at her—twisting their heads from side to side to regard her with their round, shiny, soulless black eyes.

“No!” Brynn tried to shriek but it came out as more of a breathless moan. She felt frozen to the spot—unable to move as the true horror of where she was finally hit her.

No wonder her new husband’s house looked nothing like a traditional palace or castle, for it wasn’t one. It was some huge underground lair—the home to a colony of giant insects. And she was stuck here—trapped in this nightmare.

My nightmare, she suddenly realized. That’s where I’ve seen this place before!

It was an awful realization—especially when she remembered the rest of the dream and the wall made of skulls…the one with Amalthia’s voice…

Brynn shivered and tried to push the memory away. She had never liked bugs. Rats, she could handle. And mice the convent had had a-plenty, especially in the granary. But not bugs—she hated bugs—especially big ones.

And to think, I used to think a “big” bug was one of those brown beetles as large as my thumb that lived on the shinbab trees, she thought faintly. She’d never in her wildest nightmares imagined a bug as big as the ones before her—no, all around her. She was surrounded—in the heart of their home—and there didn’t seem to be any way out again.

One of the two sentries leaned forward and brushed its long, feathery antennae over Brynn’s shivering body. She must have passed some kind of test because it then moved on to the captain, who stood there woodenly as it did the same to him.

It moved on, stalking around Brynn with jerky, insectile movements to run its feelers over the three men behind them as well. The first two passed inspection with no difficulty. But the third seemed to be giving the immense insect problems. It ran its antennae over him again and again, growing more and more agitated with each pass.

He’s the one that didn’t get sprayed, Brynn remembered, watching as the silent crewmember stood there, showing no reaction to the huge insect’s attentions. She’d been jealous of him at the time. Now…she wasn’t so sure.

Suddenly, with no warning, the giant bug that had been examining the crewman seized his arms in a pair of enormous pincers, opened its jaws wide, and bit his head off.

Brynn shrieked—she couldn’t help it! Blood fountained out of the dead man’s neck, spraying her yet again, this time with hot red droplets instead of the clear, sticky stuff she’d been baptized with before.

The crewman’s body twitched as the giant bug continued to take swift, jerky bites of his flesh. At last, as though satiated, it threw the still-spasming body over the edge. Brynn saw the headless form slide over the lip of the nearby pit and slither out of sight into the darkness below.

Panic filled her in a raw rush.

“Did you see that? We have to go! Come on—we have to get away!” Brynn tugged urgently at her captain’s arm but he just stood there. In fact, neither he or the other crewmembers gave any indication that they’d seen anything unusual at all.

“Please!” Brynn begged him. “That was your man—your crewmember! Don’t you even care? Do you want to be next? Please, let’s just go.”

At last he spoke.

“You must…enter…the Breeding Chamber.” The words were lifeless—monotone as always. They chilled Brynn to the bone. Either he didn’t care what had happened to the man under his command…or he couldn’t care. Looking into his face, she thought that his eyes were every bit as blank and soulless as those of the giant insects guarding the door.

He can’t help me, she realized. Nobody can. I’m on my own!

She started backing away but the other sentry insect, which had simply stood silently on its side of the doorway, suddenly rushed forward and seized her.

Brynn shrieked again and ducked her head down miserably, expecting its horribly sharp, curving mandibles to sheer through her neck and cut off her head at any moment.

Instead, the sentry carried her in its hard, sharp claws to the doorway of the tumor room. Only it wasn’t really a doorway because there was no door, Brynn saw through wide, terrified eyes. There was a kind of sphincter there instead. As the Sentry thrust her at it, the sphincter irised open, revealing a confusing glimpse of a room lit with pale, pulsing light inside.

Before she knew it, Brynn was through the opening and then the disturbingly fleshy sphincter irised shut behind her.

Though it had seemed so bright from outside, the pale yellow light within the room was indistinct. Brynn looked around, blinking, trying to see. The walls seemed to be made up of a number of long, low alcoves. Some of them were filled, though she couldn’t see with what. But some were empty and housed only shadows. They looked like long, narrow coffins cut in half lengthwise so you could see inside—at least that was what they seemed like to Brynn.

She took a step and peered into one of the filled alcoves. What was in there? It looked a little like a pile of old, bloody clothes. And there was a mop of hair at one end that appeared to be a discarded wig. A blond wig made up of fashionable little ringlets—or it had been sometime in the past. Now it was matted and snarled and dirty.

Suddenly the wig moved—it shifted and revealed a face. A pale, pretty face with bright, poison green eyes. The mouth opened and it spoke.

“Hello, Princess,” croaked the Lady Amalthia.

Chapter Twenty-one

Varin sat in front of the unfamiliar controls of his new ship and plotted in the course the old Tempath had told him would take him directly to Zhymur, the home world of the Hive.

Stealing the ship had been surprisingly easy—it had been left unattended and unlocked, as though the owner had only meant to step out for a moment and intended to come right back. Piloting it one-handed, however, was something else again.

Varin spared a glance at his throbbing left wrist and the stump that was left of his hand. The bleeding had mostly stopped, thanks to the make-shift tourniquet he’d bound it with, but there was still no sign of regrowth.

He sighed. He’d been regrowing missing fingers and toes—once even an eye—all of his life as he trained in the Arena. But regrowing anything bigger than that, well—he’d known it was an iffy proposition when he’d decided there was no other way to get free of the titano-silver band around his arm. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make—one that had shocked both the slavers and the old Tempath who had helped him.

Their shock and distraction had worked to Varin’s benefit—unfortunately, though, only enough to get him off the slave ship and away into the crowd. He hadn’t been able to secure the replacement slave chip he was soon going to need desperately.

Can’t think about that now, he told himself. Brynn comes first. If I can save her and get her someplace safe that will be enough.

But would he have time to do it? And would he be able to do it? The information he’d gotten from Jorath would be immensely helpful but he was still one male alone about to enter the Hive filled with millions of sentient and semi-sentient killing machines.

It doesn’t matter—better to make it a smaller operation. One male alone can go places a battalion or an army can’t.

He hoped, anyway.

The ship he’d picked turned out to be a good one—the plaything of a rich minor noble’s son from a distant system according to the licenses Varin found. The previous owner would pout when he found it gone but he was probably already calling his father to pay for a new one.

The inside was luxurious—a mini pleasure palace with all the latest amenities. But Varin was more interested in the engine than the bubble pool and indeed, that was where the ship really shone.

The previous owner must have prized speed nearly as much as luxury. The navigation system was extraordinarily sensitive to his touch and the hyperdrive went super-light speed with a smooth purring sound that was almost like music.

Before Varin knew it, he was just outside the stable wormhole the old Tempath had told him about.

Just as he was about to enter it, he had a sudden vision…

Brynn, walking down into a hole in the earth. Thinking it looks like a grave…or a mouth waiting to eat her. Two huge sentries on either side…they let her in…she walks into the blackness.

“Brynn, no! Come back, little one—don’t go down there!” The words burst from his lips, though he knew she couldn’t hear him. In fact, he had a feeling this might already have happened—that he was seeing her past rather than her present. Even now, she was deep in the bowels of the earth, Varin just knew it.

He felt his heart thundering against his ribs. Danger—she was in danger and he was still light years away!

Setting his course, he plunged the little craft into the worm hole, praying to the Goddess that he wouldn’t be too late.

* * * * *

“Where is this place? What are you doing here?” Brynn whispered, bending down to get a better look at her former lady-in-waiting’s face. The way Amalthia was bundled into the rectangular stone hole in the wall it was difficult to see her. Her face was visible in the flickering light but her body was hidden in shadows.

Amalthia’s previously plump and pretty face was bone thin, the arches of her cheeks standing out starkly under her pale skin. Her green eyes were glazed with a kind of madness and she smiled as she spoke, showing teeth that were stained red.

“They brought me here to serve the Master.”

“They? Who is they?”

“The servants of the Master, of course. Silly, Princess…” She gave a jagged little laugh, her eyes rolling in their sockets.

“But who is the Master?” Brynn asked. “Please, Amalthia—talk to me. You’re not making any sense.”

“Of course I am. And if you haven’t met the Master yet, you will. He comes to visit regularly—just to check.”

“Check what?” Brynn felt like they were talking in circles.

“To check on me of course—to see how his children are getting along.”

“His…his children?” Brynn felt a growing unease inside her. She couldn’t stop thinking about her nightmare—the one she’d had where Amalthia was a skull. “Kill me,” she’d said. “We are all dead anyway…”

“Yes—the children he gave me. Look…” Amalthia began to struggle, trying weakly to crawl out of the ledge she was wedged into.

“Here—let me help you…Oh!” Brynn gasped when she touched the other girl’s skin. Amalthia’s pale body was fever-hot, as though she was burning up from the inside out.

She’s sick, Brynn thought. That’s why she seems out of her head. Maybe I shouldn’t ask her to sit up.

But Amalthia was already levering herself out of the narrow crevice with great effort. Brynn soon saw why—her former lady in waiting’s belly was swollen and immensely round. It looked like she was pregnant but with what? Brynn had never seen an expecting woman so huge before. She didn’t even know how Amalthia had fit into the narrow rectangular space—it seemed impossible.

“There now. Thank you, Princess dear.” Amalthia gave her that mad smile as she leaned back against the ledge she’d been lying in to give her enormous belly room. She was still wearing the lovely light green afternoon dress she’d had on the day she was abducted, Brynn saw. But it was ripped and dirty—stained with brown splotches that looked horribly like dried blood.

“Amalthia…” she whispered and then didn’t know what else to say.

“Do you want to see them?” Amalthia leaned forward, a mad, conspiratorial gleam in her green eyes. “Do you want to see the Master’s children?”

“I…I don’t know.” Brynn eyed the skirts of the stained green dress, stretched tight over Amalthia’s enormous belly. “I don’t think—”

“Here!” The former lady in waiting pulled up her dress, revealing her huge, sagging, rounded belly, swollen tight as a drum. It rose up to just under her breasts and bulged down between her thighs, almost to her knees, Brynn saw with horror. And there were marks on it—half-healed gashes that looked like stab wounds, as though someone had plunged something sharp into Amalthia’s abdomen again and again.

But worse than the size and shape of the enormous belly, worse even than the stab wounds, were the movements going on just under Amalthia’s pale, stretched skin.

Brynn had seen one very short vid segment about pregnancy and childbirth at the convent—the Sisters’ idea of sex education. Of course, they hadn’t mentioned how the baby had gotten into the woman in the vid in the first place or how it would come out. The narrator had simply said, “After a time spent with the husband her parents picked for her, this young lady has something lovely to look forward to.”

Then the vid showed the results—a young woman who was glowing and happy after being obedient to both parents and husband. Brynn remembered watching the pregnant woman’s belly in fascination as it bulged once or twice when the baby she was carrying kicked from inside.

But how could one baby make all the movements Brynn could see going on in Amalthia’s belly? It was bulging and rippling everywhere. It was as though she had a dozen restless babies inside her, all of them kicking at once. But how could that be?

“Oh, Amalthia,” she whispered, covering her mouth in horror to keep back the terrified cries that wanted to leak out. “What…how…?”

“His children—the Master’s children,” Amalthia crooned, rubbing her swollen, pulsing belly.

“Are…” Brynn swallowed hard. “Are you in pain?” Because the hugely swollen belly looked like it must be painful—Amalthia should be in agony. Yet she continued to smile on and on, that same, mad, vacant smile that made Brynn feel like a cold finger was sliding down the groove of her spine.

“It only hurts a little—just at first when he stabs you,” Amalthia assured her. “But that’s necessary, you see—to implant the children. And the honey helps with the pain, of course. The sweet, sweet Blood Honey.”

She parted her lips in a grin, showing her red stained teeth.

Blood Honey, Brynn thought. Dear Goddess above, what is she talking about? This is awful!

“Amalthia,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “This…this isn’t right. It’s not safe here. You and I have to get out of here—do you know the way out?”

“I can’t go now, silly Princess!” Amalthia rubbed her rippling belly. Was it Brynn’s imagination or were the things inside it writhing faster now, in time to the pulsing light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere? “The children are nearly grown—soon they will be born.”

“Born?” Brynn repeated with growing horror. “How—?”

Her question was answered before she could finish asking it for suddenly a red flower bloomed on the side of Amalthia’s distended abdomen. A red flower that was a bubble of blood, Brynn saw with dismay.

The bubble popped and a trickle of blood dripped down the former lady in waiting’s belly to land on the floor. From the place where the blood-flower had bloomed, emerged a set of tiny, needle-sharp teeth. The teeth were followed by a long, sleek head with greenish-black skin, coated in bloody slime.

The thing—for Brynn had no name for it—writhed from the hole in the side of Amalthia’s abdomen, gnashing its sharp, bloody teeth, tearing her flesh in its haste to get out. It fell to the floor at Brynn’s feet, a worm-like creature as long and thick as her forearm, whipping its pointed, snake-like tail and screeching a high, piercing note that made her want to clap her hands over her ears.

Then Brynn realized that it wasn’t just the awful thing that had come out of Amalthia that was shrieking—her former lady in waiting was screaming too—a high, terrible wail of agony that ripped from her bulging throat and seemed to go on and on.

More blood-flowers were blooming on her belly now, more sharp teeth were chewing their way out, more greenish-black, slime-covered slugs were landing on the floor, gnashing their teeth. Clearly they were still hungry.

Brynn didn’t know what to do. She wanted to help Amalthia but she didn’t know how. It was such a horrible sight—like something out of a nightmare.

That’s it, she thought blindly. It’s a nightmare—all just a bad dream. Varin will wake me up in a minute and put his arm around me and everything will be all right again. Everything will be all right…

No! The cold voice of self-preservation in her head pushed aside her hopeful fantasy. No, this is real, Brynn—thinking otherwise will get you killed! You have to find a way out of here—get out now!

But how? The sphincter door was closed tight and some of the hungry grub-slug things were writhing closer and closer, possibly sensing her as a food source. Others had turned back to their “mother” and were biting chunks out of Amalthia’s pale, blood-splattered flesh as her scream went on and on and on…

Brynn clapped her hands over her ears and backed away. Her heart was pounding and she felt like she was going to either go mad or pass out.

But if I faint they’ll get me, she thought. They’ll eat me alive!

At that moment, the door irised open and several canis-sized insects came scurrying in. Seeing them so close in the pulsing light made Brynn cram a fist in her mouth to stifle a shriek. Goddess above, they were huge!

But as horrible as they looked with their segmented bodies and long, chitinous legs, they largely ignored her—at first.

Three of the insects had rounded, scoop-like mandibles. These they used to scoop up the writhing green slugs Amalthia had “given birth” to and placed them in flaps on their sides—almost like natural saddle bags made of their own skin, Brynn saw numbly.

The fourth giant insect scurried up to the still-shrieking Amalthia. Its mandibles parted and closed around her neck. At first Brynn was certain it was going to bite off her head, as the sentry outside had done to the silent crewman. But soon she saw that it was simply holding Amalthia in place. Her head whipped back and forth but the insect tightened its grip, forcing her to hold still.

Then something long and thin and black emerged from between its jaws. Brynn thought it was a straw at first—but what animal keeps a straw in its mouth? Soon she had to acknowledge that the thin black tube was, in fact, the creature’s tongue.

The insect held Amalthia’s head still and shoved its tongue into her mouth. Brynn couldn’t bear to see what happened next—but she found she couldn’t look away either. Amalthia’s mouth filled with a froth of dark red bubbles that overflowed her cheeks and dripped down the bulging sides of her throat. Then, abruptly her screaming stopped and she started sucking instead.

Brynn watched numbly as the giant insect fed her former lady in waiting and Amalthia suckled eagerly at its tongue. The last of the writhing grub-things had eaten its way out of her belly now, the deflated skin hanging in rags and tatters like a bloody, popped balloon. Brynn didn’t even understand how she was still alive.

“Amalthia?” she whispered. “Goddess, Amalthia—are you…are you all right?”

The insect thing removed its tongue from Amalthia’s mouth and its mandibles from around her neck. The former lady in waiting’s head turned toward Brynn, as fragile as a too-heavy blossom on a too-thin stalk.

“I’m just fine, dear Princess,” she crooned as bloody spume dribbled down her cheeks and chin. “The sweet Blood Honey makes everything all better. All better. All be—”

Her eyes glazed over and she fell to the floor with a final thump Brynn knew she would hear in her nightmares for years to come.

Dead, she thought and didn’t need Amalthia’s lifeless eyes, staring sightlessly at the pulsing, glowing ceiling to tell her she was right. The insect who had fed her the honey scooped her body up and shoved it carelessly back into the alcove Amalthia had been resting in when Brynn had first seen her. Suddenly, the other alcoves made sense. Some were filled with the bodies of girls who had met the same fate…and others remained empty, waiting for new victims.

“Goddess above,” Brynn said, the words coming out in a choked gasp. “Poor Amalthia!”

The insect that had been feeding Amalthia the Blood Honey jerked its head up and stared at Brynn with its black, soulless eyes.

“No,” she whispered, taking a step back. “Oh, no—not me. Please, not me!”

It advanced on her, its many legs tapping on the uneven floor. Brynn feigned to the right and then tried to dodge left—anything to get away from it. Anything to keep its long, slimy black tongue from going down her throat.

“No!” she gasped when it rushed at her, its mandibles clicking. Reaching out, she grabbed something from one of the many alcoves. It was a shoe—some poor dead girl’s shoe, left here by its hapless victim when she died.

Brynn grabbed it and threw it, hitting the insect creature right between its compound eyes. It shook its head and backed away, staring at her mistrustfully.

“That’s right!” Brynn’s voice was shaking as she grabbed for the other shoe and menaced the huge insect. “That’s right, you’ll get more of the same if you don’t leave me alone! Get away from me now—get away!”

“Don’t harm the workers, my dear Princesss—they are only trying to do their job and get you prepared for me.”

The hissing, buzzing voice was horribly familiar. Looking up, Brynn saw that the door had irised open again, revealing a tall, thin figure standing just outside. As he stepped into the room, she recognized his mop of brownish-green hair and his strangely rolling purple eyes.

“Sovereign X'izith?” she gasped, going to him. “What is this place? Why did you bring me here? Please, I just want…I just want to go home.”

“Ah yes—they all say that at first.” He nodded. “But that is before the Blood Honey has time to work on them. Tell me—have you had your dose yet?”

“My…my dose?” Brynn backed away a step.

“I see that you have not.” His face turned down into an exaggerated frown. “I had given specific instructions that you were to be dosed before I saw you. The sooner you are brought to Heat, the sooner I can commence the implantation of the grubs.”

“You…you mean you want to…to fill me up with…with those things?” Brynn couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice as she glanced at the alcove where Amalthia’s body had been thrown, crammed into the narrow crevasse like a lifeless doll now that her purpose was served.

“Ah, yes—your little friend must have come to ripeness as you watched. I can understand why that would be upsetting.” X'izith nodded his head. “But fear not, my Princess—you are of a different and better pedigree than she was. I vow to you that I will never implant you with anything but royal grubs.”

“Royal…” Brynn shook her head. “I don’t…don’t understand. Are they different from the ones…the ones that were inside Amalthia?”

“Oh yes—very different,” the Sovereign exclaimed, his purple eyes rolling wildly. “The common grubs that your friend incubated turn into plain, non-sentient low-level workers and guards and scouts. Creatures that serve a useful purpose—of course they do—the Hive could not function without them. But the royal grubs—ah! They turn into the true crème de la crème of our little society—they grow into beings that can think and reason and talk. Like myself.” He preened turning his head this way and that as though Brynn might want to admire him.

“But…they’re still grubs,” Brynn whispered. “I don’t want grubs inside me!”

“Not now you don’t. But you will sing a different tune after your first dose of Blood Honey.” The Sovereign gestured at the huge insect that had forced its tongue down Amalthia’s throat and said something in a hissing-chittering language. It looked at him for a moment, then rushed at Brynn again.

This time she couldn’t get away and before she knew it, the thing’s awful mandibles were clamped around her throat, holding her head still no matter how desperately she tried to move it.

“Wait,” she begged, pushing against the hard shell of its body. “Don’t do this to me! Or at least tell me these…these royal grubs won’t…won’t do what they did to Amalthia. Won’t eat me alive inside!”

“Oh but my dear Princess, I am very much afraid that they will.” X'izith made what he must have imagined was a sorrowful face though actually it just looked like a grimace. “But as I said before—they will be royal. Think of the immense honor I am bestowing on you! And I promise to keep you well drugged with the honey—you won’t even care when their sharp little teeth begin to gnaw their way out.”

He motioned at the insect holding her and said something else in his buzzing language. Suddenly the long, slimy black tube of its tongue flickered out and began probing at Brynn’s mouth.

She tried to push it away but four of the insect’s long arms encircled her, clamping her own arms to her sides. Brynn couldn’t help it then—she opened her mouth to scream.

Before she knew it, the long, thin tube was sliding between her lips and a horrible, meaty, salty-sweetness like blood mixed with zanthum-flower syrup was filling her mouth and throat.

Brynn tried to scream, choked, and the first swallow of the awful stuff went down her throat. A red haze fell over her vision and she slumped in the insect’s embrace as it continued to pump the Blood Honey down her unresisting throat.

This is how I die, she thought. It doesn’t matter. We are all dead anyway.

And then she knew no more.

Chapter Twenty-two

“Everything in the Hive has to do with scent,” Jorath had said to him, during the hours before Varin’s escape. “There are different castes within the structure they live in—workers, warriors, sentries…and plenty more. You have to fool them into thinking you’re one of them and the way you do that is to smell like one of them.”

“How in the Seven Hells do I manage that?” Varin had growled. “Kill one and wear its skin or shell or whatever?”

“No—the best way is to find a marker—one of the workers whose job it is to scent-mark those whom the sentries have allowed inside the Hive. But to do that, you have to get past the sentries in the first place…”

Lying flat on his stomach, downwind of the Hive, Varin frowned as he stared at the two huge insects guarding the black hole in the ground he’d seen Brynn entering in his vision. There they were—the sentries. He had one chance to take them out because, according to Jorath’s information, if he only wounded them, they would immediately release an alarm scent that would bring the rest of the warrior-caste insects running for the surface, believing the Hive was under attack.

One shot, he thought and braced the blaster against his left forearm, which still ended in a mangled-looking stump. His hand was actually trying to regrow itself, which was why it looked so bad at the moment. His body had managed to regenerate the bottom of his palm and part of his thumb and forefinger, but nothing else.

Varin wasn’t sure if there would be anything else and the parts of his hand that were regrown were weak and tender. He had found a pair of expensive Berathian driving gloves in the clothes storage unit of his stolen ship (the previous owner had really been quite the dandy) and put them on to cover the ugly sight.

Not that he cared so much what his hand looked like—he just wanted to protect any vulnerabilities he had when going into enemy territory. At least when I shot off my hand, I took the damned obedience band with it, he thought wryly. Now if he needed to lift Brynn and make a quick get away with her he could be certain a bolt of pain wouldn’t hamper his efforts. So that was something, anyway.

Brynn…he’d had another vision of her while he was landing his ship, being careful to leave it behind a low hill out of sight of the Hive. Someone was leading her over a narrow, steep bridge that ran across a pit of stinking death. Varin had been afraid she would fall but then she was safely across and standing in front of a small room that seemed to grow out of the wall. It pulsed with ominous light and he wanted to shout at her again not to go into it, but he had a feeling she already had.

One shot, he thought again. I have to hurry—not much time!

He narrowed his eyes and let his sixth sense take over—the voice inside him that pointed out an enemy’s weakness ruthlessly and efficiently. The one that had helped him win in the Arena for so many years.

Large eyes, it whispered in Varin’s brain. Obvious target but it might not do as much damage as you’d think. Armored body—no help there. But look at the connections—the neck—the waist. They’re narrow—vulnerable. Sever the head in one shot and you should take it out before it can sound the alarm.

Two shots, actually—he would have to shoot the other sentry almost before the first one dropped. Varin narrowed his eyes and took careful aim in the dim gray light.

He thanked the Goddess that he’d been trained with a blaster, even though as a slave, he hadn’t been allowed to carry one. The old Master at Arms who had trained him as a boy had thought the king might change his mind one day. And besides, he had a soft spot for the baby princess—whose holo picture reminded him of his granddaughter.

“She’ll need your protection lad,” he’d told Varin, clapping him on the back with one heavy, callused hand. “And sometimes a male needs more than a knife or a sword to do the dirty work of keeping females safe.”

The Master at Arms had died some years ago—a fact Varin was glad of now, since the entire planet of Galen had presumably been overrun by the denizens of the Hive. But he still kept the memory of the old male sacred—he had been a kind of father to Varin, who couldn’t remember his biological parents, and his training was serving him well even now.

Especially now that he had the insect sentries in his sights.

“This is why a slave needs a blaster,” he muttered under his breath and squeezed the trigger.

The first sentry’s head was knocked off and fell at his feet. The second sentry had only just begun to turn to its coworker to see what had happened before Varin fired again, severing the thin, narrow neck that held its bulbous head in place.

As the two tall bodies crumpled to the gray, dusty ground, Varin rushed forward and plunged into the Hive.

* * * **

“Ahh…Now that you’ve received your first dose of Blood Honey, you should begin to come into Heat.” Sovereign X'izith leered at her, a greedy expression on his strange face.

“Heat?” Brynn looked at him woozily. Everything seemed to be tinged in red—the edges blurry and distorted. The large insect worker that had dosed her was holding her up, since she couldn’t seem to support herself, but Brynn no longer felt afraid of it. In fact, all of her emotions seemed to have been blunted or dulled somehow.

“Yes, my dear Princess—Heat. To get you ready for my breeding barb.”

Brynn shook her head. “I don’t…don’t understand.” The Blood Honey she’d ingested seemed to make her thoughts as thick as, well honey and everything swam before her eyes in a very distracting way.

“Of course you don’t—but allow me to explain while the Honey works on you,” X'izith said. “You see, it’s necessary to raise both your body temperature and your lust in order to make your abdominal cavity into a proper gestational area for the royal grubs. The Blood Honey will make you crave male fluids while forcing your body into a state of hyper-desire. In this way you will welcome my barb between your legs when I seek to breed you, rather than fighting, which would impair proper implantation.”

“I don’t…I can’t…” Brynn tried to find words for the thought that was in her head—it was so hard to think with the Honey clouding her brain! “I don’t…want anything between my legs,” she said at last. Memories of the cruel silver club inside the deflowering chair made her shiver, despite the artificial warmth caused by the dose of Blood Honey the insect had given her. “I don’t…don’t want that ever again. It hurts.”

Indeed, she still ached from the brutal strokes of the deflowering wand—still felt tender and violated inside. Never again, she told herself. I never want anything to enter me there again! Drugged she might be, but she was sure on that point.

“You think that now,” the Sovereign told her in his buzzing voice. “But it will be a different story once the Blood Honey has had a little more time to work on you. It is all right—I can be patient.” He folded his arms and his filthy hands across his chest and smiled at her. “It will not take long.”

* * * * *

It didn’t take Varin long to find a marker. It came scuttling along the tunnel that led down into the Hive, its antennae scanning the air for new scents. Varin flattened himself against the wall, not wanting to alert it to his presence too soon.

He’d already rubbed himself all over with the sticky muck that oozed from the floor of the tunnel to mask his scent as well as he could. Now he just had to get the marker to believe he belonged and spray him with its odor. The odor, Jorath had told him, was the key to getting into every other area of the Hive unchallenged.

Varin jumped in front of the marker, just as it was about to pass him. It stopped its forward motion, its long antennae quivering, clearly uncertain about him.

“Come on,” he muttered as it hesitated. If it decided he didn’t belong, it would run away, spreading the alarm and mobilizing the Hive against him. But if it sprayed him with the “welcome” or “belonging” scent, he would be able to go virtually anywhere undetected.

The marker hesitated a moment more, then turned and started to skitter back down the hall it had come from.

“No, you don’t, you little bastard!”

Varin launched himself at it, landing squarely on its back segment. Abdomen? Thorax? He wasn’t sure what you called it but apparently it was the part the spray came from because a splurt of sticky clear stuff shot out of the marker and somehow hit him right in the face.

“Fuck!”

Varin spluttered and reached up to wipe the sticky goo out of his eyes. It stung like some kind of chemical cocktail—which was what it was, he supposed. He let go of the marker in the process, but it didn’t run away. Instead, it turned around and inspected him, running its feathery antennae out to “sniff” him, since, according to Jorath, that was how the insects of the Hive smelled things.

Suddenly it turned around again and crouched, aiming its behind at him.

“Whoa—wait a minute!” Varin barely had time to jump to his feet before a second dose of the “welcome” scent baptized him—this time from head to foot. Apparently the accidental dose he had received had convinced the marker he was legitimate, even though it had been the one to spray him by accident the first time.

They really do run on scent, Varin thought as it scurried away. Damn thing was too stupid to remember it thought I was the enemy before I got a face-full of its odor.

Well, at least there could be no doubt that he was well and truly covered in the “belonging” odor—the rest of the Hive should be accessible to him now that he was sprayed with the clear insect goop. He took a firmer grip on his now-sticky blaster (Who was he kidding? All of him was sticky now) and made sure his knife was loose in its sheath and ready to grab.

The knife was a long, wickedly sharp, curving blade—a ceremonial weapon from the Grindeeg tribe on Larius Two—Varin knew because that had been the inscription on the framed plaque he’d broken to get it out and use it.

The long knife had been hanging in a place of honor on the wall of the lounge area of his new ship along with several other trophies that proved the former owner was well traveled. Doubtless it was a priceless artifact that he was using like some callus barbarian—not that he cared. It looked sharp enough to lop off an enemy’s head with one blow—that was more important to Varin than how much it cost or how rare it was.

Of course, the knife was only for last resorts—if his blaster suddenly ran out of charge, which he hoped and prayed to the Goddess wouldn’t happen—he would use it. Or if the situation called for a silent attack. But for now, it was the blaster he gripped in his one good hand.

For a moment he considered that what he was doing would look like suicide to anyone else. One male alone, with only one useable hand, going into the Hive armed only with a half-charged blaster and a stolen knife…It was crazy. Stupid or suicidal in the extreme.

Doesn’t matter, he told himself grimly. If I die, I die. But I have to save Brynn first.

The thought of his Mistress—the female he had been devoted to his entire life—drove him onward. Taking a deep breath and immediately wishing he hadn’t—it smelled fucking horrible and rotten down here—Varin started following the trail he’d seen Brynn take in his visions of her.

“Hang on, little one—I’m coming,” he growled under his breath.

There was no answer but silence.

* * * * *

“Now, my little Princesss…I think you’re ready.” Sovereign X'izith rubbed his hot, dirty hands with their filthy fingernails together in anticipation. Clearly he was looking forward to what came next.

But…what did come next? Brynn had a feeling she ought to know, but she could barely think. She felt hot all over—so hot she’d somehow managed to get out of the soiled pale pink ball gown, though she’d had to tear it to do so. She had left it in a heap on the floor and now she was wearing nothing but a short white shift, which fell only to her knees.

It seemed to Brynn that at a different time in her life she would have thought shedding her clothes in front of a man was wrong—even scandalous or indecent. But now she was so hot it seemed like the only thing to do. Also—she ached.

Or maybe throbbed would be a better word. All her most private parts from her “lady mounds”—the Sisters’ word for breasts—to her “downstairs area” were throbbing with a kind of need and desire she couldn’t explain. Between her thighs, especially, she felt tender and hot—the area Varin had called her pussy was pulsing like a second heartbeat. Pulsing in time to the pale, strobing light in the Breeding Chamber, in fact…

Before Brynn could puzzle out the implications of this strange synchronization, X'izith was talking again.

“Of course, in order for me to breed you, I fear I must abandon my beautifully crafted disguise. You do not mind, do you, my dear? After all, you took off your own outer covering…” He motioned to the crumpled and discarded pink ball gown. “Surely you will not object to me removing mine.”

Brynn thought he was asking permission to take off his cloak and she couldn’t blame him for wanting to—it was so very hot in the little room.

“Of course,” she murmured, swaying back to lean against one of the walls. There was an empty alcove right at her elbow and for a moment she thought about how snug it looked—how nice it would be to curl up inside the narrow, rectangular hole in the wall and take a nap…

The thought jogged a memory and she faintly heard a voice screaming somewhere inside her—so deep down she could barely understand what it was saying.

No! Not the alcoves! That’s where you found Amalthia! Remember how she looked—remember what happened to her! You can’t let that happen to you. Wake up, Brynn! Wake UP!

But I am awake—aren’t I? she thought groggily. Unless this is all a dream. But why would I dream something so strange? How—

Her thoughts were interrupted when she realized Sovereign X'izith was doing something strange with his hands. He had been rubbing them together in anticipation earlier but now he was tugging on them, pulling at the fingers of his right hand with his left.

At first Brynn thought he was trying to clean his filthy fingernails in some way. About time! she thought. Those nails of his are disgusting!

But even as she had the thought, the Sovereign pulled his hand off—pulled it off as easily as if it was simply a glove he had been wearing. And then he did the same for his other hand. What emerged from the fleshy gloves weren’t skeleton hands, as Brynn might have supposed, but two long, chitinous arms on each side, with hooked claws at their ends.

“What…what are you doing?” she asked uncertainly. Even with the Blood Honey in her system she felt horrified—though only in a dull, half-asleep kind of way. Look at that—he can take his hands off. Isn’t that unique?

He shouldn’t be able to do that, Brynn! yelled the little voice in the back of her head. That’s not normal…not right!

“That…what you did…that’s not right,” she said, gesturing at the now discarded hand. “You shouldn’t do that. It’s…improper. “

“Improper?” X'izith gave a hissing laugh. “I will show you ‘improper’ my dear.”

And then he reached up and pulled off his face.

Brynn stared at him blankly as the bulbous insect head with its black, blank compound eyes and twitching, gold-tipped antennae came into view.

“I thought you wanted to remove your cloak—not your head,” she said at last and her voice sounded flat and strange in her own ears.

“This is my true form.” X'izith took off the rest of his clothes revealing why his body had seemed so hard and oddly shaped when they’d been dancing at the ball which now seemed it had happened a thousand years ago.

“An insect,” Brynn said faintly while the little voice screamed inside her. “You’re an insect. I…I knew I was in a colony of some kind and that you controlled it, but I never thought you were one of them.”

“I am more than ‘one of them’ my dear Princesss,” X'izith hissed. “I am the Sovereign—the leader to which all of the Hive looks for leadership and direction. I grew from a royal grub into this…” He spread his arms and legs and fanned out his wings, making himself seem positively huge in the small, cramped room.

“You…you did?” Brynn took a step back. Goddess above, if she hadn’t been drugged by the Blood Honey she was certain she would be screaming or fainting right now. X'izith was so big…so horribly alien.

“I consumed my fourteen littermates and fought and consumed my sire in order to ascend to this position.” X'izith sounded proud of himself.

“Consumed?” Brynn whispered. “You…you mean you ate them?”

“Of course. It is the way of the Hive.” He took a step towards her, his long, thin legs moving with jerky, insectile speed. “That was many cycles ago and all this time I have been searching for a female with the right bloodlines to continue the ways of my people.” He leaned towards her, his black eyes gleaming, his curving mandibles clicking. “And I finally found you, Princess. Now it is my turn to implant a litter of royal grubs. My turn to be certain my progeny will rule the Hive when I am gone.”

There was a motion between his legs and Brynn saw with horror that a long, black, sharp thing had extended from his segmented abdomen. It was longer than her arm and twice as thick, tipped with a thin black barb that looked like the blade of a dagger.

Only a dagger didn’t drip venom that hissed when it hit the floor.

“Oh…oh my Goddess,” she whispered faintly. “Oh no—stay away from me!”

The creature she had known as Sovereign X'izith frowned—or Brynn thought he did, anyway. It was difficult to tell on a face so alien she could barely read any of his expressions at all. At any rate, he clicked his mandibles in a way that seemed angry or impatient.

“I thought you were ready for breeding—that the Blood Honey had made your mind as well as your body ripe for implantation.”

“Think again,” Brynn gasped. Finally the little voice that had been screaming in the back of her mind for so long had moved to the forefront. She didn’t know if the Blood Honey was wearing off or the horror of the situation was catching up to her but she definitely felt more awake now. “I don’t want that thing…” She nodded at his long, black barb, “Anywhere near me!”

Especially not between her legs which was where he was proposing to put it.

“Now, now, Princess…” X'izith began advancing on her, his long limbs moving with the eerie grace of a web hunter stalking its prey. “You mustn’t get yourself excited. Implantation—especially of the royal grubs—is a delicate and difficult process. Why do you think I had your maiden barrier removed before I agreed to take you? Nothing must impede it—you must be perfectly still when I thrust my barb between your thighs.”

“No!” Brynn shook her head, her long hair whispering over her shoulders. “No—stay away from me!”

“Princess—or should I say my Breeding Queen, for that is what you are now—my Queen, please behave yourself. And do not make things…difficult.” On the last word, X'izith rushed forward and seized her arms in his two upper hand/pinchers. With his two lower pinchers, he grabbed her legs and parted them, despite her struggles to be free.

“No! NO!” Brynn shrieked. Kicking and fighting, she fishtailed her body, trying to get loose from him, trying to get away from the horrible, huge, insect body that was getting closer and closer to her own.

“Be still!” X'izith hissed. “I do not wish to mentally incapacitate you as I did the captain and crew of the ship that brought you here—it would be bad for the royal grubs. But if I am forced…”

His barb began to tilt upward, its sharp, dagger-like point aiming for the opening between her legs. The tip, still dripping clear venom, got closer and closer to her most vulnerable, delicate area.

“You’re not putting that thing in me!” Brynn shouted at him as loudly as she could. “I don’t want anything in me there ever again! Get away from me! LET ME GO!”

“You heard the Princess,” growled a familiar voice. “Let her go, you fucker!”

To her surprise and disbelief Brynn saw Varin’s face, his broad shoulders looming behind the monster’s back.

A dream—it has to be a dream. A fever dream brought on by the Blood Honey and desperation, she told herself but she couldn’t stop herself from speaking, even though she knew it must be an illusion.

“My Kindred,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “Varin…oh Varin, is it really you?”

“What?” X'izith started to turn but suddenly there was a bright silver blade in Varin’s right hand.

“I said let her go!” he growled and slashed out, his arm coming down in a brutal, scythe-like motion.

X'izith let out a high-pitched unearthly shriek and suddenly the long, dripping, black breeding barb was lying on the ground, now dribbling smoking venom from both ends.

All four of the claws gripping Brynn’s arms and legs tightened unbearably for a moment and she was certain the huge bug was going to rip her into four quarters in his agony. Then she found herself dropped like a pile of dirty laundry on the ground as X'izith doubled over, clutching between his long, chitinous legs and shrieking so high and loud she felt her eardrums might burst.

“No!” he shrieked. “My barb! You cut off my breeding barb!”

“You shouldn’t have been sticking it where it didn’t belong,” Varin snarled.

He rushed around the fallen form of X'izith, still thrashing in agony, and grabbed Brynn by the arm, hauling her to her feet.

“Princess,” he said. “Can you run?”

“I…I think so.” Brynn still felt light-headed from the Honey, sure this must be a dream. “Are you real?” she asked Varin.

“I’m real and we’re both going to be really dead if he gets over that before we get out of here,” he growled. “So hurry up, Brynn—let’s go!”

He led her, staggering and stumbling, out of the Breeding Chamber which inexplicably opened for him when he tapped the sphincter-like door. Brynn wondered why and if it would have opened for her if she’d gotten close enough to it to try it. But before she could wonder much, they were through, passing by two dead sentries and running on the frighteningly narrow bridge over the pits.

Brynn staggered once and almost fell, but Varin pulled her back, his right hand locked around her upper arm in a death grip.

“Listen,” he muttered to her as they came to the end of the bridge. “We might have to fight our way out. If that happens, stay behind me and keep up. I can’t pull you along—I’ll need my good hand for shooting.” He let go of her arm to resheath his long, silver knife and pull out a blaster instead.

“Your good hand?” Brynn shook her head woozily. “I don’t…don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to. Just tell me you can keep up.” He looked at her earnestly.

Brynn’s skin still felt horribly hot to touch and the edges of her vision were still tinged with red from the Blood Honey. But she refused to let the strange daze that had fallen over her when she was forced to drink it to take over again.

She lifted her chin.

“I can keep up, Varin—just please, get us out of here!”

“Going to do my best.” He brushed her cheek lightly with his left hand, which was gloved. “You’re brave, little one. We’ll get out of this, I swear it.”

“I believe you,” Brynn told him. “Let’s go.”

They ran for their lives and somehow, she managed to keep up.

Chapter Twenty-three

The scent of agony, which his injury released, drew workers—both sentient and not—to X'izith’s side. Both the high and low orders milled outside the Breeding Chamber uncertainly while he screamed and cursed and thrashed.

The low-level worker whose job it was to administer Blood Honey to the Breeding Queens skittered around the walls and ceilings, distressed but not sure what to do. In its panic, it ate part of the severed breeding barb, chopping it up into bite-sized mouthfuls with its mandibles. X'izith looked on, unable to stop its mindless cannibalism because his pain was too great to control even the lowest under his dominion.

They will pay, he swore to himself as the agony rendered him helpless and shamefully vulnerable. By the Nameless Ones, they will pay and pay and pay…

At last the high-level worker he had given special access to came scuttling in through the irising aperture of the Breeding Chamber and stopped at X'izith’s side.

“My barb…” he managed to gasp out.

The worker understood at once—it forced the mindless one down from the ceiling where it was shaking with unease and, by means of chemical signals, instructed it to disgorge the numbing Blood Honey over the pitiful stump which was all that was left between X'izith’s legs.

As the fierce, stinging anguish at last began to diminish, X'izith was finally able to speak.

“Where…are they?” he rasped. “My Breeding Queen and the one who came and took her—the Kindred—where are they? Stop them!”

But a quick chemical consensus of the Hive revealed that they Princess and the one who had stolen her had been allowed to pass through, mostly unmolested. Although they had had a short scuffle near the entrance of the Hive, they had, in the end, escaped.

X'izith swore in the language of the Nameless Ones—those Gods of Nothing and Darkness that watched with greedy joy over the wanton destruction wrought by the Hive.

“How could this have happened?” he demanded of the worker who was grooming his antennae with nervous compulsiveness.

“Apologies, my Sovereign. It appears that the male who stole your Breeding Queen somehow convinced one of the non-sentient markers to spray him with the belonging scent. He was able to pass through the Hive with no difficulty, I am afraid—though he still killed several workers and sentries along the way.”

“Unacceptable!” X'izith raged. “How could he know our ways?”

“Did you not say he was a Kindred?” the worker asked. “While waiting for you to complete the courtship rituals on the planet Galen, I accessed information about his species. I thought it wise since I heard the name mentioned several times in conjunction with the Princess as I monitored your dealings.”

“Yes, and what did you find?” X'izith buzzed angrily.

“That there are few on this side of Night’s Window—the vast cosmic dust cloud that many call the Blind—but very many on the other side. In fact, they are the flesher species I was telling you about—the one we were sent information on via a strange signal that came to us from the other side of the cloud.”

“Ah, yes—I do remember you saying that to me.” X’izith nodded. “But I was eager to go and breed my new Queen.” He made an angry, chittering sound. “Now she is gone and with her, any chance I might have of implanting my royal grubs.”

“Your severed barb might be reattached with enough Honey,” his worker pointed out carefully.

“It might if it was still intact. If that mindless fool had not eaten it!” X'izith made an angry gesture with three of his arms at the non-sentient worker quivering in the corner. “Have that Blood Honey worker thrown into the flesh pits.”

“It shall be done.” The high-level worker complied with his request, calling two more tall sentries to dismember the squeaking, writhing worker and cast its still-twitching pieces into the dark pit. Then it returned to its master. “All is as you ordered, my Sovereign.”

“Good.” X'izith found himself somewhat mollified now that at least part of his rage had been vented. But he still had more—much more to do. “We must mount a search party to look for my Breeding Queen,” he told the worker. “We must get her back!”

“But my Sovereign, that may take some time if they have a craft with hyperlight speed travel.”

“So much the better,” X'izith snapped. “The delay will give my barb time to regrow—a long and painful process as I’m sure you know.”

“Regrettably, yes.” The worker groomed his antennae sadly. “I will see that a search party is sent out at once.”

“Do not be overly concerned if they do not find her immediately,” X'izith buzzed. “Upon reflection, I recall that she had a good first dose of the Blood Honey. Though the Kindred male has stolen her away, she will not easily shake the effects. The Honey will bring her to Heat and the Heat will bring her back to me eventually, whether we find her or not.”

“True, true… Do you have any other orders, my Sovereign?”

“Yes…” X'izith clicked his mandibles angrily. “Send out another party—a war party—through the Blind. Use our fastest ships—the ones able to generate wormholes at will so that they can get there almost instantly. I want to find these other Kindred and make them pay. I will harvest them in a way that makes what we did to Galen look gentle and kind. They will die, every last one of them—fodder for our flesh pits. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Sovereign.” The worker bowed low, grooming—always grooming. “It shall be as you say. For the glory of the Hive, that it may live forever.”

“That the Hive may live forever,” X’izith repeated grimly. “And all others must die.”

Chapter Twenty-four

“Master? I’m afraid I was naughty while you were gone.”

Elaina looked up appealingly as her new mate, Terex came into the bedroom where she’d been waiting for him.

They were bonded now, and Elaina had moved up to the Mother Ship to be with him, though she still went back down to Earth to visit her sister often. She found she liked life among the Kindred and their wives but then, she’d always enjoyed working in the HKR building among the huge warriors—it was no surprise that she would enjoy their company now that she had a Kindred warrior of her own.

Especially such a dominant one.

“Master?” she murmured again, looking up from under her eyelashes. She knew Terex still felt a little tug of guilt sometimes when they “played” this way—it was against the Kindred ethos to be anything but tender and gentle with a female. But since contracting a form of the Need—a sexual disease that made her desire domination and punishment from a strict Master during their mutual mission—she found she craved more than just vanilla sex from time to time. And with a little prompting on her part, Terex seemed willing enough to give it to her.

“What did you do?” He put his hands on his hips and frowned sternly—an expression that sent shivers of desire through Elaina’s entire body.

“Um…” She sat up straighter on the edge of the bed and thrust her breasts out, well aware that the sheer white silk robe she was wearing did almost nothing to cover the tight peaks of her nipples. “I…I was…”

Terex walked over to stand in front of her. As big and muscular as any Kindred male, he loomed over her, making Elaina feel positively petite, though she was actually the normal height for a woman.

Gently but firmly, Terex lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.

“Were you touching yourself, Elaina?” he growled softly. “You know I told you to leave your little pussy alone while I was gone. Did you disobey me?”

Elaina dropped her eyes, her heart pounding. God, she knew he was just playing the stern Master but Terex’s deep, growling voice made her so hot, especially when he was being strict with her.

“Answer me.” His voice was so soft she could barely hear it but so intense it sent a shiver of lust straight through her.

“Yes, Master,” she admitted at last. “I…I was.”

“You were what, exactly? Tell me, Elaina—I want to hear you say it.”

“I was…was touching myself. Petting my pussy while you were gone.” She looked up at him, biting her lip. “But I didn’t mean to, Master. It’s just that the Need was so strong this morning after you left. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t make excuses to me, Elaina.” He frowned, his deep blue eyes flashing. “You’ve been a very naughty girl and now you’ll have to be punished.”

“Yes, Master…” Heart banging like a drum, Elaina hung her head. But inside, she was on fire. God, this was what she wanted—what she needed. For her Master to take her in hand and punish and pleasure her until she came for him again and again. For him to spank her and fuck her and fill her with himself until she couldn’t hold anymore…

“All right then.” Terex sat on the bed beside her and patted his lap. “Come here, Elaina. I want you over my knee with your ass bare for a spanking.”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered again and hurried to obey his orders, arranging herself over his muscular thighs and resting her face on her arms as she leaned on the thick gela-foam mattress.

Terex lifted her sheer silk robe, baring her behind.

“Gods, lavana, love your sweet little ass,” he murmured, rubbing her gently with one large, warm hand.

“Thank you, Master.” Elaina shivered with desire and felt the thick length of his shaft prodding her belly through the tight leather uniform trousers he wore.

His voice grew suddenly stern again. “But I thought I told you I wanted you bare.”

“I am bare—mostly,” Elaina protested.

“What’s this then?” His big hand reached between her legs and Elaina moaned and opened for him. In her haste to get over his lap, she’d forgotten to remove the tiny white lace thong she wore, which was already soaked with her juices.

“These little panties are awfully wet, Elaina,” he murmured, stroking one finger along her heated pussy cleft, exploring her inner folds through the thin lace. “Is that because you were disobeying me and touching yourself?”

“Yes, Master,” she admitted in a breathy whisper. “Yes, I…I guess so.”

“I’m going to have to take these panties off you to give you a proper spanking,” he warned. “Lift up and let me take them off you, Elaina.”

“Yes, Master.” Obediently, she lifted her hips, allowing him to slide the lacy panties down and off.

“That’s good,” Terex growled. “Now Elaina, I’m going to give you five swats. Three for disobeying me and two for not following orders to be bare. Do you understand?”

“Yes…yes Master.” Elaina could barely squeeze the words out this time. She knew from experience that Terex wouldn’t hold back—the blows he rained down on her tender ass would be real and painful—but also exactly what she needed. And with the Need running rampant through her system, she would feel the blows in waves of pleasure as well as pain.

“Very well then. One…” His big hand came down with a smack on her bare bottom, making Elaina jump and moan.

“Oh!” she gasped. God, she hadn’t been spanked since she was a little girl and had never imagined wanting such a thing as an adult. But somehow getting over Terex’s knee and giving herself up to him completely to punish and pleasure, pushed her to heights of desire she’d never known before.

“Two…” The big hand came down again and Elaina felt her body jump right to the brink of orgasm. With a moan, she began to grind against him, her body begging for more…more…

By the time he reached number “five” Elaina thought she was going to explode. She couldn’t take it anymore—she was going to come…come so hard…

And just then the spanking ended.

“Terex?” She turned her head and looked up at him. She knew her face was probably naked with pleading but she couldn’t help herself—the Need was riding her hard. Her nipples were hard, pink points and her pussy was so wet and hot she felt like she would die if she didn’t come soon.

“What did you call me?” he growled in a soft, dangerous voice.

“Master! I meant Master,” Elaina gasped. “But please, Master—I need…just need a little more. I’m so close.”

“I know how close you are. I can tell by the soft little noises you make,” Terex told her softly. One big hand reached between her thighs and began to stroke her heated pussy. “And even if I couldn’t tell by that, I would know by how wet you get,” he murmured.

“Oh, God…” Elaina felt like she would die if she couldn’t come now. She was desperate to get more contact with his big hand but Terex refused to allow it, keeping her outer pussy lips spread with his ring and forefingers and just barely sliding his middle finger around and around the swollen bump of her clit.

“That’s right, lavana,” he growled softly. “Being spanked makes you so hot, doesn’t it? Makes your sweet little pussy so damn wet.”

“I…I can’t help it,” Elaina admitted. “I just love it when you’re stern with me, Master. When you punish me and make me come.”

“And I am going to make you come, lavana,” he promised roughly. “But not on my fingers—on my cock.”

Once again Elaina felt a bolt of pleasure and desire shoot through her.

“Yes, Master,” she moaned. “How…how do you want me?”

“Right here, on the side of the bed.” Lifting her as though she weighed no more than a doll, Terex positioned her so that she had her feet on the floor and was bent at the waist, laying face down against the cool white bedspread. Then he adjusted the bed, which raised and lowered at will, until Elaina was standing on her tiptoes—which made her just the right height for him, she knew.

Before she knew it, Terex was right behind her. He kicked her legs apart ruthlessly, spreading her thighs wide to put her pussy on display for him. Elaina felt incredibly open…incredibly vulnerable. Which in turn, make her feel incredibly hot.

“Oh…” she whispered “Oh, Master…”

And then he was in her, pressing the broad head of his cock to the entrance of her wet pussy and filling her with himself.

Elaina moaned again and tried to relax her inner muscles. She knew from experience it was better not to be too tight or tense when trying to let a Kindred make love to you. They were extra endowed, causing her new friend Kat to remark that they were all “hung like Clydesdales.”

Some Earth women who had come up to live on the Mother Ship after bonding with a Kindred warrior, ate the bonding fruit of the Twin Kindred—who had to take two males inside them at once. But Elaina found she liked the stretching pain of accommodating her new man’s girth. It felt so good to be opened and owned by him—to feel her body making room for his thickness. She left the bonding fruit for others and learned to accommodate Terex with nothing but her willingness to be as open as he needed her to be for him.

“Gods, lavana—so tight”, he groaned through their shared mental link as he began feeding his cock, inch by thick inch, into her open, unresisting pussy. “So tight and hot and wet!”

“It’s all for you, Master,” she sent back, loving this extra bit of intimacy, the feeling of having him in her head and in her body at the same time. “You make me wet when you touch me…when you take me…”

“Good girl,” he murmured aloud, stroking his big, warm hands over her trembling back as he finally fed the last thick inch of his shaft into her pussy and bottomed out inside her. “Such a good girl to take all of my cock in your tight little pussy, Elaina.”

“Mmm,” Elaina purred breathlessly. She liked his praise and affirmation almost as much as she loved his huge shaft inside her. It was all part of the delicious act of submitting to the man she loved.

“Get ready, lavana—going to fuck you hard tonight,” her Master growled in her head. “Going to teach you a lesson about obedience.”

“Yes, Master—punish me! Teach me,” she begged shamelessly, tilting her hips back to open her pussy even more and give him better access.

Terex seemed to take her at her word because he dug his fingers sharply into her hips, making Elaina sure she would have ten finger shaped bruises there later to commemorate this experience—not that she minded it. She loved when Terex marked her in the heat of passion.

Her Master seemed to know exactly what she needed because almost at once he set up a hard, steady rhythm that pressed his big cock deep inside her, the broad head kissing the mouth of Elaina’s womb with every fierce thrust. Elaina moaned and gripped the white bedspread, squeezing her fingers tight around the silky fabric as waves of sensation and pleasure washed over her.

“Harder,” she moaned shamelessly. “Master, use me harder!”

“Don’t want… to hurt you,” he ground out, but his fingers tightened on her hips all the same.

“Please, Master—I need you to,” Elaina begged.

“Then I’ll give you what you need,” Terex told her. Reaching down, he lifted her legs in his strong hands, bringing her feet off the floor and splitting her thighs even wider. The new angle allowed him to drive straight down into her, his thickness pounding her open, helpless pussy while Elaina moaned and cried with the Need, loving every hard thrust.

At last she felt her orgasm approaching—the deep, punishing pleasure of his shaft inside her was bringing it, pushing her over the edge.

“Master,” she moaned. “Terex, I’m coming…coming so hard.”

“That’s right, lavana,” he growled, thrusting even harder. “Come for me. Come all over my cock while I fill you with my seed. While I breed your sweet, wet pussy and make you mine.”

The hot, possessive words coupled with his thickness pounding into her was too much. Elaina felt her inner muscles spasm, her pussy squeezing tight around the invading club of his sex as the orgasm washed over her like a drenching wave.

“Oh,” she moaned. “Oh, Master…”

“Gods, can’t hold back anymore, Elaina—have to fill you up,” he groaned. With a final hard thrust, he pressed deep inside her and Elaina felt spurt after spurt of his hot come bathing the mouth of her womb, marking her, making her his all over again…

Yes, she thought deliriously. Yes, this is what I want—what I need—what I can never get enough of forever…

“Need you too, lavana. Love you, so much.” Terex’s mental voice was hoarse as he spoke through their link while he continued to come inside her.

Elaina thought she had never felt so happy, so loved as she did at that moment. She never wanted it to end.

* * * * *

Afterwards, they lay resting in each others’ arms, Elaina with her head pressed against his chest while Terex stroked her long, silky brown hair. She was so beautiful, his lavana. So warm and willing and open for him. Sometimes he didn’t know how he’d survived so many years alone after his first wife, Solange had died. Now that he had Elaina in his life, he realized how lonely he had been—how empty inside until she filled him with her love.

“That’s a very poetic thought,” she murmured through her link and he realized she must have caught his thoughts, as he often caught hers through their mental connection.

“It’s true,” Terex said aloud. “I don’t know how I ever lived without you.”

“You’re sweet.” She cuddled closer and sighed contentedly. “I love it when you master me like that. It makes me so hot.”

“I could tell,” he growled softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Your pussy was wetter than I’ve ever felt it. But…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

He was still concerned—still just a little bit hesitant to do the things she asked him to do to her. Solange had had the same needs and desires and now, Terex admitted to himself, he had them too. The need to dominate and be dominated. The need to punish and be punished.

“Not any more than I needed to be hurt.” Elaina looked up at him. “I like it when you love me hard, Terex. I know it’s not for everyone but it makes me come like, well…” She blushed. “I’ve never come so hard in my life as I do when you’re mastering me.”

“Mmm…” he growled appreciatively, stroking her soft cheek. “Keep talking like that and I’ll be up for round two.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Elaina gave him a flirtatious smile. “In fact, Master—”

Just then Terex got a strong feeling that someone wanted to speak to him—very badly in fact.

“A moment, lavana,” he murmured and closed his eyes, tuning in to the sensation—someone was Bespeaking him.

“Yes?” he sent.

“Terex my friend, forgive me for contacting you in this way but there is something on the flight deck I need your opinion on.”

It was Commander Sylvan, the warrior who had taken Terex’s place as head of the Kindred Council when he had been forced to step down for personal reasons. Despite the fact that Sylvan had succeeded him, Terex bore him no ill will. The male was an excellent leader, as well as being the finest doctor aboard the Mother Ship.

“Can you tell me anything about it?” he asked, sitting up and tugging at his trousers. Elaina made a little sound of protest at being displaced but he knew she could tell Sylvan’s communication was important.

“It’s an alien ship we brought down, just outside the orbit of Saturn,” Sylvan sent back. “It attacked one of our wide patrol ships and he shot it down. But the pilot is…unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“A new species?” Terex was already fastening the magno-tabs on his trousers.

“It looks like a huge insect of some kind,” Sylvan said. “Yet it’s sentient—or it was. The warrior who shot it down said it contacted him first, before engaging. It asked, ‘Are you Kindred?’ and when he replied in the affirmative, it started shooting.”

“Hmm…that’s bad.” Terex shook his head. “Very bad.”

“I don’t want to be an alarmist but I can’t help thinking of the warning the Goddess gave you and Elaina,” Sylvan said. “She warned that trouble was coming.”

“She also said she’d be sending us help,” Elaina put in, then added apologetically, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to butt in but I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“Of course you couldn’t—you’re bonded to Terex,” Sylvan sent. “Why don’t you come with him—the two of you are the only ones who have been beyond the Blind and back that we know of. I have a feeling this creature might have come from the other side as well.”

“We’ll be there momentarily,” Terex promised.

“I’ll be waiting.” Sylvan broke the connection.

Terex frowned and looked at Elaina who was biting her lower lip.

“What do you think?” he asked her.

“I don’t know.” She put her arms around herself and shivered. “But I don’t like it. Not a bit.”

Chapter Twenty-five

They were at the mouth of the Hive again—right at the entrance peering out. Just another few steps and they would have their freedom—another few steps and they would be able to leave this awful place behind forever…

That was when the immensely tall sentries came forward, blocking their path. Their black, saucer-wide eyes seemed to glare at Brynn hungrily…possessively.

“Just keep walking,” Varin muttered to her. “Go around them. Act like you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing.”

But was she doing what she was supposed to be doing? Behind her, coming from the long, dank tunnel of the Hive, she heard a high, sweet, hissing voice.

“My Princess…my Queen,” it called to her. “Come back to me…come to be bred…come to be filled with my grubs. You know that you want to…you know the Blood Honey will not let you rest until you do…”

And incredibly, though she was almost out of the Hive, Brynn found herself turning around. Found herself following that high, evil voice back down into the darkness, though part of her was screaming that she must not… that it was death…that she would die the way Amalthia had, horribly and alone.

Amalthia… Her former lady in waiting suddenly swam before Brynn’s eyes, her cheeks hollow, her green eyes blazing.

“It only hurts a little when he breeds you,” she crooned through red-stained teeth. “Just until they give you the Honey. You do want more of the Blood Honey, don’t you, Princess? You want to come back for another dose…and to let yourself be bred. Don’t you…don’t you?”

“No—no!” Brynn cried out, yet she found she couldn’t stop walking, couldn’t stop her feet from taking her deeper and deeper into darkness as the rotten-sweet scent of the Hive closed around her…

Varin, she thought. He can save me—he can stop me! He’s the only one who can.

She looked around wildly for him but the big Kindred had disappeared. And then she remembered that he was dead…that she would never see him again.

“You might as well come back to me, my Queen, whispered the hissing, horribly familiar voice. “Your Kindred is gone and I’m the only one left in the universe who wants you…who needs you. Come back to me for another sweet dose of the Blood Honey…come back and be filled with my grubs…”

“No…no!” Brynn thrashed in the silken sheets but in her mind she was still walking downwards, leaving the light and her life and all hope behind…

“Princess? Are you all right?” A large hand shook her and Brynn thrashed harder.

“No,” she moaned. “Don’t want to go back…don’t make me go back…please!”

“It’s just a bad dream, Brynn. Wake up.”

The deep, worried voice penetrated the nightmare she’d been having and at last Brynn’s eyes flew open.

Varin was leaning over her, an anxious expression in his bronze eyes. “It’s all right, little one,” he murmured. “It was just a dream…just a bad dream.”

“Varin?” She stared at him, uncomprehending at first, trying to clear the dream’s fog from her brain. “You…In my dream I thought you were dead. My Lady-mother the Queen…”

“Decided it was more profitable to sell me than kill me,” he said dryly. “Which was the only way I managed to get off Galen alive when everyone else…” He stopped abruptly, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“What?” Brynn sat up and drew her knees up to her chin, shivering. “What happened after I was…was sold?” The words tasted bitter in her mouth but there was no other way to put it. She’d been sold as surely as Varin had—both of them slaves to her parents’ greedy whims.

He cursed grimly. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, tell me…” Brynn started to put a hand on his arm, then stopped. She didn’t want to hurt him. “Please,” she added softly, wrapping her arms around herself instead. “I need to know whatever it is you’re holding back, Varin. Talk to me as a friend—like you did back on Galen.”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“All right but this won’t be easy to hear…or to tell. I’m afraid Galen Prime is…gone. At least the Galen you and I knew.”

“What?” Brynn shook her head, uncomprehending. “I don’t understand. Was it hit by an asteroid or—”

“Nothing like that. What I mean is, it’s bare. It’s been completely stripped by the Hive. Women…children…males… all gone. As well as all the animal life and most of the vegetation as well.”

Brynn’s heart leapt into her throat. “My parents? My brother, the Crown Prince?”

“Gone,” Varin said gruffly. “I’m sorry, Princess.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “You know that bastard, X'izith actually told me he intended to take the planet? I tried to tell your mother before she sold me but she wouldn’t hear it. Goddess, if only she had listened…” He scrubbed at his face again, his big hand making a whispery sound over the day’s growth of beard on his cheeks and chin.

“And…and you’re sure they actually did it?” Brynn didn’t know how she was able to make her mouth move—her lips felt so numb.

“I’m afraid so. I was watching live-feed of some of the news vids from neighboring systems in our quadrant.” He shook his head. “It’s been stripped bare. If anyone survived, no one has found them. And I don’t see how they could have—they were completely unprepared.”

“My parents,” Brynn whispered. “And the Sisters at the convent…all my friends…my little brother Rolando…”

Goddess above, she’d never even gotten to meet her brother in person! She’d only seen the occasional vids her mother’s royal aide sent, with her younger brother waving and smiling. He had looked nice and even though his birth had knocked her out of the line of succession, Brynn had never resented him for it. She just wanted to get to know him.

Now she never would.

“Gone,” she whispered numbly, putting her forehead to her knees. “All gone.”

“You’re not gone, though,” Varin murmured. “You’re right here, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that!” She looked up at him and tried to blink back the tears that were welling up. “Don’t ever call me that again. It’s not true anymore. I’m not a princess—I’m just a girl who should be dead right now. Dead or…or filled with…with his…”

But she couldn’t say the words. Couldn’t express the horror of what she’d seen in the Breeding Chamber or the awful despair she’d felt in her dream when she found herself going back…being pulled into the darkness from which she knew she would never return.

“Don’t say that,” Varin said roughly. “Don’t ever say that, Brynn!”

“It’s true,” she whispered. “Everyone else in my family—on my whole planet—is dead. Why should I still live?”

“Not everyone,” he murmured.

“Oh, Varin…” She looked up at him, yearning to hug him but not wanting to hurt him. “I’m so sorry. Thank you for coming for me. But how did you get away? If my mother sold you—”

“It’s a long story.” His deep voice was grim. “And not a very pretty one. Let’s save it for another time and just focus on the happy part—we’re both safe away from the Hive.”

“Are we?” Brynn shivered again. “Are you sure they can’t find us?”

“Reasonably sure,” he rumbled. “As it happens, the ship I stole on my way back to you has some of the best stealth tech I’ve ever seen. We’re hidden in the middle of an asteroid field right now—hidden in plain sight. The ship mimics the asteroid we’re attached to perfectly so we just look like an outcropping of rock.”

“You stole a ship?” She looked around at the opulent bedchamber. She hadn’t had much time to admire her surroundings when they first came aboard. Varin had been yelling for her to strap in for take off and later, when it had been safe to unstrap, she’d been so tired he’d told her to just sleep. Brynn had staggered through the lavish little ship until she found a bed and collapsed.

“Yeah, I stole a ship.” He sighed. “I’m not proud of it but it was faster than trying to convince someone to help me go into the fucking Hive and rescue a princess in distress. Sorry,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest his use of her title. “A lady in distress, I meant.”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Brynn whispered. “I’m glad you came for me—more glad than I can say. If you’d been just a moment later…”

“Did he hurt you?” Varin looked at her earnestly, his bronze eyes solemn. “Tell me, Brynn—did that bastard—”

“He didn’t get his, uh, barb inside me,” she interrupted him, feeling her cheeks go hot. “He…he was trying to though. And if he had…” Images of Amalthia’s swollen belly filled her head and she had to choke back a cry when she remembered the sharp, bloody teeth eating their way out from the inside…

“Hey, it’s all right. It’s all right now.” Varin put his arms around her, drawing her close to his broad, bare chest. His spicy, familiar scent comforted her and for a moment Brynn pressed her face against the hard planes of his chest and just let herself get lost in the big Kindred. She felt so safe in his arms…so warm…

But what feels good to you is probably causing him almost unbearable pain, a little voice in her head pointed out.

Abruptly, she pulled away.

“Hey—what’s wrong?” Varin frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. I just…I didn’t want to hurt you. You’ve already risked so much for me.” She nibbled her lower lip. “It’s not fair to ask you to bear so much pain just so I can be comforted.”

“I’ve told you before I don’t care about the pain,” he growled. “But as it happens, touching your skin—touching you—doesn’t pain me any more. I got rid of my obedience band.” He grinned wryly. “Just another little side adventure on my way to finding you.”

“You did? How?” She looked down at his left hand where the thick black band had been, just above his wrist. The hand was gloved now and it looked somewhat strange under the brown leather, but true enough, she didn’t see any black band. “I thought it was part of you.”

“Not any more,” he said, but didn’t answer her question.

“But how—”

“It doesn’t matter how,” Varin growled. “The point is, if you need comfort, don’t let the worry that you’re hurting me stop you, because you aren’t. Just come here.”

He held out his arms and Brynn flowed into them again and pressed her face against his chest. He felt so good—like safety and home. Her cheek was against the part of his chest where her name was written, claiming him as hers, and she could hear his strong heart drumming a soothing rhythm in her ear.

But then she began to feel…strange. Restless. The tips of her breasts ached and the spot between her thighs—her pussy—throbbed with sudden need. Brynn opened her eyes, trying to understand what she was feeling, and saw that everything was tinged in red. What was happening to her?

Suddenly she heard Sovereign X'izith’s hissing voice in her head again… “The Blood Honey will make you crave male fluids while forcing your body into a state of hyper-desire. In this way you will welcome my barb between your legs when I seek to breed you, rather than fighting…”

But I don’t want that! Brynn felt panic stab through her as she thought of his breeding barb…and then of the hard silver club in the deflowering throne. I don’t want anything in me there ever again!

“Goddess, little one,” Varin murmured, stroking her trembling shoulders. “You’re burning up—do you have a fever?”

Abruptly, she pushed away from him.

“I…I don’t know.” She looked down at her hands. “I…maybe I should bathe. I have…I’m still all sticky from that awful stuff the insects sprayed on me.”

“You and me both.” If Varin noticed how abruptly she’d distanced herself, he didn’t mention it this time. Maybe he could feel her worry through the bond he had to her.

Or maybe he can feel my heat—the heat brought on by the Blood Honey, Brynn thought miserably and felt sticky and dirty and disgusting all over again—and not just because of the droplets the insects had sprayed on her. This need the Honey had inspired in her was unclean—unnatural. She felt filthy from it but somehow she couldn’t stop the feelings welling up inside her. She needed to scrub them away.

A little voice spoke up inside her head. Scrubbing the droplets off your skin will scrub away the desire too.

The little voice spoke with such confidence that Brynn felt a surge of hope. Suddenly she was sure it must be right.

“I really need to bathe,” she repeated urgently.

“There’s a fresher right across the hall.” He nodded at the doorway of the room. “You go first and take your time—I’ll clean up afterwards.”

“All right. Thank you.” Brynn clambered off the high side of the bed, feeling weak and dizzy. The edges of her vision were still clouded with red and her breasts and pussy still throbbed with need—much to her embarrassment and shame. But she had to say something else before she left him. “Varin,” she said, looking up at the big Kindred, who was watching her quietly with an unreadable expression in his bronze eyes. “Thank you for coming to get me—for saving me. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did,” he rumbled. “I’m still yours, Mistress. Just because the whole of the planet we both called home is gone, it doesn’t change that fact. I belong to you and I’ll always come for you. Always keep you from harm.” His mouth twisted. “Or try to, anyway.”

Brynn didn’t know what to say to that.

“You’re not my slave anymore, Varin,” she reminded him in a small voice.

“You think not?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “There are more things that bind me to you than your name written over my heart and the slave chip in my spine, Brynn.”

A wash of red suddenly filled her sight and her pussy throbbed so strongly she could barely stand it. Lust swamped her and she longed to go to him, to spread her legs for him then and there and beg him to thrust his shaft deep inside her, to fill her with his cream…

She was actually taking a step towards him when she realized what she was doing.

“Acting like a slut!” her mother had said. And the Sisters whispered in her memory about how no proper lady would ever do forbidden things with a male. But more than any of that, what stopped her from going to him was the awful memory of the silver club in the deflowering throne. The way it had pierced her sex and the horrible pain it had caused thrusting inside her.

Never again—I never want that again! she told herself.

Abruptly, she turned and ran from the room, seeking the sanctuary of the fresher, trying to get away both from Varin, and the frightening, forbidden desires the Blood Honey raised in her.

* * * * *

Varin watched her go, not saying a word. He felt the maelstrom of emotions inside her and though he didn’t understand all of them, he didn’t blame her for running away. After all, he might have saved her from the Hive before that bastard X'izith had been able to get his fucking barb inside her, but that didn’t erase the horror of what she’d seen there. Or the evil that had been done in the dungeon by the deflowering throne.

Gods! Varin clenched his fists tightly, thinking of how her innocence had been ripped from her as he watched, helpless to stop it. Should have saved her from that! Should have known it was coming…taken her away somewhere…

But where? And more to the point, where were they going to go now? Varin was acutely aware of how little time he had left on his slave chip. If he didn’t get it changed soon, he would die.

Have to make a decision soon, he told himself. But he wanted Brynn to be involved in the decision making process. Whichever way they chose to go would affect both their lives drastically—hers more than his if he couldn’t get a new chip in time.

I have to make certain she’s provided for—that she’s not left helpless if something happens to me, he thought grimly. Have to be sure she’s all right, even if I’m not here to protect her.

Unbidden, the image of her throwing herself into his lap down in the dungeon, after her deflowering, came to mind. He remembered her words, “I love you, Varin!” and the way she had kissed him so desperately before they were torn apart. Did she still feel that way? Had she ever? Or had it just been a last, desperate action on her part because she thought they were never going to see each other again?

He had always been devoted to her, of course…had loved her for so long Brynn felt like a piece of his own soul—he wasn’t a whole male without her. Some might sneer at his feelings for her and attribute them all to the way he had been bonded to her when she was just an infant. A one-way bond—or so it was supposed to be—with him feeling love and affection and protectiveness for a high-born female who would never love him back. But Brynn had dreamed of him too—she had called him a friend, not just a slave.

But would he ever be more?

Goddess above, he wanted that—wanted her more than anything in the universe. But Varin was well aware that just because their planet had been stripped and the social system they had grown up in was now worth no more than a handful of cosmic dust, it didn’t mean that the system didn’t live on inside them—both of them.

She’s still a princess and I’m still a slave, no matter what she says to the contrary, he told himself. We may never get past that.

Whether they did or not, whether Brynn ever came to feel for him as he felt for her, Varin still felt the need to protect and provide for her.

I’ll teach her to pilot, he told himself. That way even if something happens to me, she can still get away—fly free no matter where she is.

It was a good decision. Piloting was difficult, of course, but Brynn was quick and intelligent and they had nothing but time out here in the space between solar systems.

Not much time, though, he reminded himself. Have to find a fresh slave chip soon…

He resolved to talk to Brynn about it once they had both bathed and eaten. Then they could decide together which way to go and what to do with the rest of their lives…however long or short they might be.

Chapter Twenty-six

Brynn scrubbed and scrubbed but the little voice in her head had lied. Even though her skin felt clean—almost too clean after a while—the dirty thoughts and needs inside her persisted.

She kept thinking of the Sovereign’s breeding barb—how he had almost shoved it inside her—how painful and awful it would have been. And yet, the thought of being filled wouldn’t leave her alone—it tormented her even though she knew she never wanted anything inside her there ever again.

In response to the torment, her whole body got hot. Her nipples ached and her pussy throbbed so hard she couldn’t help herself…she had to try and relieve the pressure.

She was sitting in the bubble tub with the bubbler going at full force which was good—it would hide her actions. She didn’t want to advertise her shameful need if Varin happened to have a vision of her.

But when she put her fingers between her thighs and tried stroking her pussy, it didn’t help. She could feel the need building and building inside her but no matter how much she rubbed, she couldn’t reach the peak.

It was so frustrating Brynn wanted to cry! She wished for the little tickle-teaser Varin had given her, left behind back on Galen Prime. But part of her thought that even the tickle-teaser wouldn’t have done any good. Her body needed something she couldn’t give it herself and she was ashamed to ask Varin for help—ashamed to admit the dirty need inside her that the Blood Honey had planted and caused to grow like the seed of some shameful, poisonous plant.

I’ll keep it to myself—ignore it, she told herself, at last giving up on reaching a release. Eventually it will go away…won’t it?

She hoped to the Goddess that it would. She couldn’t stand much more of this. She wished none of it had ever happened—that her parents had just left her to rot quietly away in the convent instead of deciding to sell her off to the highest bidder.

But I can’t blame them completely, Brynn told herself. I went along with everything they ordered. I stepped onto Sovereign X'izith’s ship…I walked blindly into the Hive…I entered the Breeding Chamber. I did all that without a fight. I acted like a stupid fool—a little girl too weak to fight back.

She didn’t want to be that girl anymore. She wanted to be strong…self sufficient. She didn’t want to have to be rescued anymore.

I want to take care of myself, she decided.

But how? She’d been raised to be a helpless flower, an obedient daughter and wife who did everything her parents and husband told her to do. How could she learn to fight back?

That’s it! Brynn sat straight up in the opulent bubble tub where she’d been soaking and scrubbing, trying to feel clean. That’s it—I’ll learn how to fight. I’ll ask Varin to teach me. That way no one can force me to do what I don’t want to do again. I’ll be in charge of my own life! In charge of my own destiny!

And maybe, if she was in charge of her destiny, she could also take charge of her mutinous body which insisted that she needed things she didn’t want.

Learning how to fight—how to defend myself—will help. With everything, Brynn promised herself.

She hoped.

When she had finished her bath, Varin took one as well. When he came out, he looked much refreshed, though still somewhat troubled. Brynn noticed that while his tight black fighting leathers were clean from a trip through the clothes-refresher, they were showing signs of wear. He was still bare-chested, with little droplets of water clinging to his broad shoulders and his thick dark hair was pushed back from his high forehead in damp waves.

The brown leather glove on his left hand remained in place too—she wondered again what had happened to the obedience band around his wrist and how he’d gotten rid of it. But he hadn’t seemed to want to talk about it earlier so Brynn kept her questions to herself.

The sight of him, half-bare like that, caused a little surge through her body and for a moment her vision was tinged with red around the edges again.

Brynn struggled to keep the forbidden emotions in check. After all, she couldn’t blame Varin for not wearing anything else—there was literally nothing aboard the ship that would fit him other than the clothes he had come in.

For that matter, there was nothing that would fit her either.

There were a lot of fancy men’s clothes which were considerably too big for her, yet much too small for Varin in the clothing storage unit, but nothing for a female to wear. In the end, she had chosen a dark red dress shirt which fell to mid-thigh on her. It had a rounded, v-neck collar, probably useful for showing off expensive neck-chains, which dipped almost to her belly button.

Brynn had looked at the other clothes but this seemed to be the best fit, despite the deeply dipped neck-line. She rolled up the too-long sleeves and kept the front closed by clutching at the sides of the v-neck. She hoped to find some kind of pin or clasp so she wouldn’t have to hold on to it all the time to keep from flashing her small, teacup sized breasts, but so far none had been forthcoming.

“Well, little one, you seem to be making yourself at home.” Varin’s bronze eyes traveled up and down her body in a way that made Brynn blush.

“I had to find something to wear. My shift was all torn and stained,” she explained.

“It’s all right—I’m glad to see you relaxing a little bit. Feeling any better after your bath?” he asked.

“Some.” She shifted from foot to foot. “Varin, I want to ask you a favor. There’s something…something I need you to do for me.”

“Anything I can do for you, Mistress, I will do,” he replied formally. “But first, why don’t we eat? I don’t know about you but I’m hungry. Getting in and out of the Hive works up an appetite.”

“I am hungry,” Brynn said with surprise.

On her trip from Galen to the home world of the Hive, she’d had only brittle, tasteless meal-supplement bars which were all the food simulators of the Sovereign’s ship had seemed able to make. They hadn’t tasted very good or been very satisfying but Brynn had been so miserable thinking of Varin and how his fate was her fault, she’d barely eaten anything anyway. Now her stomach growled, reminding her that she and Varin were both in the land of the living and she needed to give her body food to keep going.

“There’s a small food-prep area with plenty of heat and eat meal disks,” Varin offered. “C’mon—I’ll fix us something.”

They went in to the food-prep room, which had a drink simulator, a food-disk re-hydrator, and a small but elegant table with chairs that were slightly too large for Brynn and slightly too small for Varin.

“Here,” the big Kindred went to the small brushed silver cabinet and opened it, revealing a lot of round, flat white disks a little larger than his palm. They were stacked in three groups and labeled in Standard: First Meal, Mid-Meal, and Last Meal. There was other writing below that in another language Brynn didn’t recognize but the meal disks themselves were familiar.

“I can do that,” Brynn told him. “Let me, Varin—the Sisters had something like this in their break room at the convent. We girls weren’t supposed to use it but sometimes Sister Piety would let us come in and make snacks if we were good and nobody told the Reverend Mother.”

“Sounds like you’re a regular chef.” His bronze eyes went sleepy with amusement and he sat in the too-small chair and crossed his long legs at the ankles. “All right, let’s have it.”

“What are you feeling like? We have First, Mid, and Last meals here.” Brynn shook her head. “Goddess above, I don’t even know what time it is. Is it morning or mid-day or evening?”

“It doesn’t matter—we’re out in space, not constrained by time. Well—not by chronometer time, anyway.” For a moment his face darkened. Then he sighed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really hungry. Why don’t you re-hydrate some Last-Meal disks? They’d probably be more substantial.”

“Sounds good to me,” Brynn said. “I’m starving. The last thing I had to eat was—” She broke off abruptly, as a mental image of the worker insect pinning her arms to her body and shoving its slimy black tongue down her throat to feed her the Blood Honey suddenly flashed before her mind’s eye.

“Was what?” Varin asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Never mind,” Brynn said quickly. “I’m just, uh, really hungry.”

But actually, when she unfolded the now-plump and steaming Last-meal disk, she found she had lost her appetite.

It wasn’t just that the food was strange and put her off—although it was and it certainly did. It was the memory of the Hive and the effects of the Blood Honey, still ranging through her system along with the shame she felt because of it, that robbed her of her appetite.

Still, Brynn tried to dig in to her food anyway.

The disk had expanded to a flat white plate holding what appeared to be a thin, spongy, light brown cake. The cake smelled of savory herbs and looked pretty good…until she cut into it and found long, purple, hair-like filaments running all through it like a network of veins.

“Ugh—what is this?” Brynn picked at the thin purple hairs in disgust.

“Don’t know.” Varin was already eating from his own plate, which held a kind of thick stew with chunks of what looked like green meat and blue and purple vegetables in bright pink sauce. “Sorry if you don’t like it. Want to trade? This stuff tastes better than it looks.” He indicated the stew.

“No, that’s okay.” Brynn sighed and pushed her plate away. “I’m not hungry after all.”

Varin frowned. “You have to keep your strength up, Brynn. I have to know you’re safe and strong in case I—” He stopped abruptly and looked down at his plate.

“In case you what?” Brynn felt a shiver of fear run through her. “Varin, what is it? Tell me!” she demanded. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed and also pushed his plate aside.

“All right, I wanted to wait until after we ate but I guess there’s no putting it off. Remember how I told you I have a slave chip in my back and if it’s not changed at least once a year I’ll die? Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m getting close to my annual change time but I don’t have any chips.”

“Oh my Goddess…” Brynn put a hand to her mouth. “Varin, no! I can’t lose you again! I won’t!” She jumped up and ran around the table to put her arms around his neck. The low chair he was sitting in meant that for once, since she was standing, Brynn was taller. “Please!” She was so panicked she grabbed him and pulled him close, pressing his head to her chest. “Please, Varin, don’t leave me again! Don’t die! Please!”

“Take it easy, little one. I’m not dead yet.” His voice was somewhat muffled and Brynn realized that, in her terror, she was pressing his face right between her breasts. She could feel the scratch of his whiskers against her tender slopes and realized that the v-necked dress shirt had gaped wide, showing her bare skin. But she was so upset, she didn’t even care. She just kept seeing him in chains down in the dungeon, hearing her mother say that he would die, that Brynn herself had killed him just by showing him affection…

Just as I’m doing now, she thought and felt a surge of guilt. Only she was acting much more forward than she had when her mother had labeled her a “slut.” She was not only showing Varin her bare breasts, she was pressing his face right in between them!

The Blood Honey surged inside her and she felt her nipples harden. Goddess, if he would just turn his head and take one of her aching pink peaks between his lips. He could suck her nipples into his hot mouth, laving them with his tongue, making her pussy throb with need…

No! I can’t give in to these thoughts—these feelings. Have to fight it!

“I…um…” She pulled back in confusion, grasping hastily at the sides of the shirt to cover herself. “I just don’t want to lose you again,” she whispered, looking at him with eyes that stung and burned with tears. “Please, Varin…”

“I’ve got a little time,” he said, clearly wanting to reassure her. Brynn would have stepped back some more, but he put his arms around her hips, linking them loosely behind her to hold her in place. “That’s what I wanted to talk about—what to do in the time we have. Which way to go.”

“We need to go to the nearest habitable planet and buy you a new slave chip,” Brynn said at once.

“Yes, well…about that.” He sighed unhappily. “I’m afraid this ship I stole is pretty noticeable and extremely expensive. Just about any port we put in to that’s big enough to have a slave market that sells the right chips is also big enough to have notices posted and people looking out for it. Add that to the fact that the slavers I escaped from will be looking for me and the Hive will be hunting for you and that makes a whole lot of people we want to avoid.” He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know if there’s a safe port for the two of us anywhere in the known sectors.”

“Well then, what are we supposed to do?” Brynn felt a surge of despair but she refused to let it drown her. She lifted her chin. “We can’t just give up, Varin. We can’t. We need to find you help—get you a new chip!”

“That’s true,” he said simply. “And there might be a way to do that.”

“How? I thought you said all the known sectors are too dangerous to dock in,” Brynn objected.

Varin took a deep breath.

“In the slave ship I was on after your mother, the Queen, sold me, I was chained next to a Tempath. He had information about the Hive—it’s the only way I was able to come get you—he told me exactly what to do. But he also knew about my people.”

“You mean the Kindred?” Brynn asked. “Where are they? Can we get to them in time to get you some help?”

“I believe that we can, but—and this is a big ‘but’…” Varin raised an eyebrow at her warningly. “The majority of them live on the other side of the Blind.”

“I…I didn’t think there was anything on the other side of the Blind,” Brynn protested. “I thought it was just an immense cloud of cosmic dust that goes on and on for millions of light years in every direction and anyone that goes in never comes out again.”

“That’s why it’s a problem,” Varin said. “But the Tempath had star charts stored in his memory. He gave me coordinates—the right place to enter the Blind in order to get through to the other side and also the location of the other Kindred.”

“That’s amazing,” Brynn exclaimed. “Then we should go there—as fast as we can!”

“Even if it means going through the Blind?” Varin raised an eyebrow at her.

“Even so.” Brynn nodded decisively. “I trust you, Varin—if you think you can get us through, I know you can.”

“Little one…” He let his arms drop from around her waist and looked down. “Gods, I hope I can be worthy of your trust. More worthy than I have been in the past.”

“What are you talking about?” Brynn demanded. “You came and saved me from the Hive! I don’t know any other male who would have been brave enough to come in even if he had an army at his back but you…you rescued me all by yourself! That’s amazing, Varin.”

“I couldn’t save you in the dungeons of Galen Prime,” he growled. “Couldn’t help you when you needed me most.”

“Oh…” Brynn realized he was talking about her deflowering and she felt her cheeks get hot with shame. “I don’t blame you for that,” she said in a low voice. “It wasn’t your fault. It was my parents’ greed that…that…caused what happened to happen.”

She couldn’t say it out loud—couldn’t make herself talk about the silver club that had pieced her so painfully, no matter how hard she tried.

“It shouldn’t have happened, though.” Varin’s voice was low and angry. “I felt your pain and violation…but I could do nothing about it. Nothing.” He looked at his hands—the one normal and strong, the other still gloved. “I’ve been a slave all my life but I’ve never felt so helpless as I did at that moment—seeing you about to be hurt and not being able to stop it. I’m sorry, Brynn.”

“Oh, Varin…” For a moment she thought she might cry but Brynn swallowed her tears. “It’s all right,” she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “It’s in the past and it’s never, never going to happen again.” She clenched her hands into fists. “I’ll never let anyone do that to me—put anything in me there, ever again.”

A look of sorrow came over his strong features. “I can understand why you would feel that way, little one. I just wish I could have spared you that pain. Wish I could have protected you.”

“Maybe…maybe I don’t want you to always have to protect me,” Brynn said, lifting her chin. “Maybe I want to learn to protect myself so I’m not so helpless and dependent.”

To her surprise, he nodded in agreement.

“That’s true—if we don’t find me a new slave chip you might be on your own.”

“No—don’t say that!” Brynn exclaimed.

“I’m just saying, I want to prepare for the worst, little one,” he said in a low, even tone. “Which is why I want to teach you to pilot. You need to know how to fly this ship as well as I do. Would you like to learn?”

“I never thought about it but piloting would be a useful skill.” Brynn made a face. “Especially now that I’m not a Princess anymore and I can’t depend on people flying me around.”

“You’re still a Princess to me—my Princess,” Varin said quietly. “My Mistress.”

“Oh, Varin…” He was looking at her steadily, his bronze eyes burning into her. Brynn could feel herself blushing, the heat in her cheeks rising steadily as she tried to meet his intense gaze.

“Brynn,” he murmured. “Little one…”

The edges of Brynn’s vision were tinged with red and she could feel the familiar throbbing starting in her nipples and pussy again.

“Varin—about what I wanted to ask you earlier,” she said quickly, desperate to change the subject.

“Yes, little one?” he murmured.

“I…” Brynn licked her lips, trying to think how to put it. “I don’t want to be a victim anymore—I want to be able protect myself. I want to learn how to fight. Will you teach me?”

He looked at her long and hard and seemed to be sizing her up. At last, he nodded.

“I will. Can’t teach you how to shoot a blaster in a ship, of course, but I can teach you some defensive moves and how to use a knife.”

“That sounds good to me.” Brynn nodded. “I want to feel safe even when…if…” she bit her lip, almost unable to go on. “Even when you’re not with me,” she finished at last. “But you will be, Varin—because I know we’re going to find your people in time. I know it.”

“If we are, then I need to go set a course,” he said. “We’ll head straight for the Blind but it’s going to take a couple of weeks to get there, even with the hyperlight drive on this ship.”

“Well…that should give us plenty of time to practice—fighting and piloting,” Brynn said brightly. But inside, she felt as though her stomach had just fallen down to her toes. How could she hide the effects of the Blood Honey from Varin if the two of them were going to be cooped up in close quarters for so long?

Maybe it will just go away. Maybe the effects will wear off, she told herself. But deep down inside, she was less and less certain that would happen.

Chapter Twenty-seven

The next few weeks were tense for Varin. For one thing, he was aware that he was rapidly running out of time. He estimated he had three solar weeks left on his chip—give or take a few days. Even if they made it to the Blind on time, it was still going to be touch and go.

He might make it—if he could find the Kindred Mother Ship the old Tempath had told him about and if they would agree to help him and Brynn on no other basis other than that he was a Kindred too…if they had the right kind of chip to implant him with…

If, if, if—too many fucking ifs! Varin told himself angrily. He didn’t like cutting things so close to the wire and he really didn’t like the idea of Brynn being left alone in a cold, uncaring universe with no one to take care of her if he died.

There was so little time and so much he needed to do to prepare her in case they didn’t find the other Kindred in time. He spent hours a day teaching her to pilot and whenever Brynn announced that her head was too full of facts and figures and flight paths to concentrate anymore, he put the ship on autopilot and the two of them sparred.

Varin converted the living area of the ship for this purpose—which wasn’t hard to do. All of the rich furnishings were attached to the walls. With a wave of a hand over the room’s reconfigure button, the chairs and couch and even the small end tables would fold up into the walls behind them, leaving a fairly large area which had probably been meant to be a makeshift ballroom. But since Varin and Brynn were over and done with Court activities like dancing, the area made an excellent training room instead.

Brynn progressed steadily in both piloting and fighting although she was better at the former. In hand to hand combat, she was at a distinct disadvantage because of her tiny size. Varin tried to teach her to dart forward, strike, and jump away quickly, avoiding direct contact with her opponent as much as possible. He was afraid that if she got close enough to someone to grapple, she would be killed or captured. Though she was strong for her size, there just wasn’t time to train her to be deadly—though she was quite quick.

Varin fought her with his right hand only, the two of them using the bottoms of expensive yadra-wood hangars that he had broken in two to serve as training daggers. His left hand had yet to regrow completely and he didn’t think it ever would. It was a misshapen thing, missing most of the fingers and only useful for small tasks because it had no strength.

He didn’t like that either—he’d been hoping he would regrow his hand completely. Not for cosmetic purposes but because it was damned inconvenient to have only one really good working hand. Also, it made him a less effective fighter, which was never good. But there was nothing he could do to make his hand grow faster—just as there was nothing he could do to make the ship go faster towards the Blind.

He kept his hand covered with the glove and every time Brynn asked about it, he deflected the question or changed the subject. It was better she didn’t see or understand what he’d had to do to get to her. Varin didn’t want her to feel bad, his Princess…his Mistress. For so he still saw her, despite the fact that the planet she’d been Princess of was now nothing but an empty ball of rock spinning through space. He was still devoted to her—still loved her—though he knew she might never return his feelings.

The other thing that bothered him, aside from his still-mangled hand and his rapidly aging slave chip, were the bad dreams Brynn continued to have but wouldn’t tell him about. She slept in the small but opulent master bedroom and Varin took a side room which was much smaller, beside hers. Through the thin inner walls of the ship, he could hear her thrashing and crying out as the nightmares tormented her every night.

Yet every time he came to wake Brynn, she would deny having bad dreams. Even though at first she would cling to him and bury her face in his chest, sobbing, soon enough she would push away, swiping at her red, swollen eyes, and claiming everything was fine and she didn’t remember a thing she had dreamed—or if she had even dreamed at all.

It was this bizarre behavior which made Varin worry about her. She had told him her bad dreams before, why was she so hesitant now? And why did her scent change so drastically and her skin get so hot when she had the nightmares?

He’d been vividly attuned to her from the moment she’d stepped foot back in the Galen royal palace after her lifetime of exile at the convent. So these changes—the difference in her scent and body temperature which another guard might have missed—were extremely obvious to Varin.

When she woke from the bad dreams that troubled her each night and he came in to hold and comfort her, her skin felt as hot as a furnace. And her scent…her scent was what really bothered him.

Unlike the males he had been raised side-by-side with on Galen Prime, Varin had an excellent sense of smell. In fact, he’d been called “the Beast” sometimes in the Arena—not just because of his fighting skills but because of his ability to scent weakness and injury. It leaked from the pores like sweat when an opponent was in trouble and Varin could always detect it.

But it wasn’t the smell of injury or weakness or even pain that he scented on Brynn. It was heat…need…desire. Almost the scent of a female animal going into rut. The Princess smelled hot—hot and needy in a way that made Varin’s cock stand up at attention and throb in his tight black leathers.

He wanted to ask Brynn about it. He knew she still tried to touch herself sometimes at night—and he also knew she wasn’t getting any satisfaction. He could feel her frustration growing through his link to her. But it was just when he started to smell the heat on her that Brynn pulled away and said she was fine.

She wasn’t fine—she was getting worse in fact. But Varin didn’t know how to broach the subject—wasn’t sure what to do for his Mistress.

Until finally one night, he had enough.

* * * * *

Brynn hated the dreams that tormented her every night but even more, she hated the way they made her feel.

They were, without a doubt, nightmares of the worst kind. In them she relived over and over the horrors she had seen in the Hive. Amalthia crooning through red-stained teeth…her belly bursting open as she birthed the seething mass of green, sharp-toothed grubs…her screams as they ripped her to shreds on their way out.

Again and again, Brynn saw the sentry biting off the crewmember’s head…felt the insect worker shoving its tongue down her throat to inject her with the sweet, meaty Blood Honey…saw Sovereign X'izith take off first his hands and then his face, revealing his true, awful form… And worst of all, she saw his breeding barb, long and sharp and pulsing…dripping with venom and ready to plunge inside her.

What she saw was monstrous—enough to make her scream and sweat and cry out in the night, desperate to be free, desperate to get away, to get anywhere but the black, stinking hole of horrors that was the Hive.

And yet, when she awoke with tears running down her face, her body was throbbing with desire.

Her nipples ached and her pussy was so wet she often had to go to the fresher afterwards and clean herself up. In fact, the first time she woke up from such a dream, she was certain she had started her monthly cycle because her thighs were slippery with moisture. But she hadn’t…and she didn’t. Though it was long past time for her to have her cycle, Brynn didn’t see her monthly blood.

What was wrong with her?

It was a question that tormented her day and night whenever her mind wasn’t busy with learning to pilot or learning how to fight. Thank the Goddess above, Varin worked her hard, often waking her early and not letting her stop until well into the night—or what passed for night on the ship, anyway. Brynn was eager to learn and more than happy to divert her mind from the dreams and their implications…the implication being that she was becoming a monster—a sick deviant as disgusting and horrible as Sovereign X'izith himself.

How could she think otherwise? Why else would such dreadful dreams cause her to throb not just with horror, but also with desire? What kind of person got aroused when witnessing the disgusting things she’d seen and been subjected to in the Hive? Especially the sight of the massive alien’s breeding barb—why did the sight of it make her body yearn for penetration? For it did, even though she had promised herself after her deflowering that nothing would ever enter her body again in that way.

Brynn wanted to reach inside herself and rip out the part of her that lusted and craved and ached to be penetrated…to be filled to the core. There was an empty ache inside her now—a feeling of desperate need that never went away, no matter how hard she tried to banish or ignore it.

She kept thinking that if only she could reach the peak she’d been able to find with the tickle-teaser Varin had given her, she would get some relief from the awful dreams and their strange, perverted effect on her. But through she lay in the darkness and tried night after night, the release of orgasm eluded her. Brynn couldn’t help feeling that she needed something more—someone more to help her.

She thought of asking Varin…and dismissed the idea. Even though he could touch her now, the idea of admitting that she needed help to reach the elusive peak was too embarrassing—too humiliating. He was already teaching her to fight and to pilot—what kind of idiot would he think she was if she had to ask for his help with that too?

And even worse, what if he asked her why she was so desperately needy? What if she had to admit it was her nightmares that were waking her in such a state of desire she could barely breathe? To be aroused by such awful images made no sense and the idea of admitting what was happening to her filled Brynn with shame.

No—far better to keep her mouth shut and just endure the nightmares. Just hope that they would go away and leave her alone.

Only they weren’t going away. In fact, if anything, the longer she was away from the Hive, the stronger they got. Almost as if there was some kind of law of physics that didn’t apply anywhere else—an inverse correlation between how far she was from the Hive and how much access Sovereign X'izith had to her mind—if it was, in fact him sending the dreams.

Maybe he’s not, Brynn told herself as she lay in bed one night, sleepless despite the fact that she’d been up early and had studied with Varin in both piloting and fighting until she was almost ready to drop that day. Maybe I’m just sick—twisted by my time in the Hive. Maybe I’ll never be normal again…

But no—she couldn’t accept that. She knew if she could just achieve a release—give herself an orgasm—before she drifted off to sleep, she wouldn’t be bothered by the dreams any more. Or that was what she told herself, anyway.

Though it hadn’t done her any good earlier, Brynn decided to try again. Biting her lip and trying to still her breathing, she slipped her hand under the pink silk sheets to cup her pussy.

Already she was wet and hot, even though she hadn’t had a nightmare yet that night. That was because of her proximity to Varin when he’d come to say good night to her, Brynn thought. Because being too near the big Kindred brought on the same sensations that the nightmares did. And since she was near him all the time now, it felt like her body was always on overload.

Tentatively, she tried parting her pussy lips and stroking between them. But though it felt good and the sensations built quickly inside her, her body stubbornly refused to reach orgasm. Brynn tried harder, rubbing now hard, now soft, now faster, now slower—but though her need continued to build until she felt like she might go mad from it, nothing happened.

Unaware that she was doing it, Brynn began uttering angry little cries, which soon turned into real tears. She put an arm over her eyes and sobbed in frustration. Goddess above, she felt so helpless…so useless. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she find the release she was seeking? If only she could orgasm she was sure she could get a good night’s sleep for once. Maybe even a night without dreams. If only—

“All right, Princess—we need to talk.”

The deep, familiar voice in her ear shocked Brynn out of her abject misery. She jerked and turned her head to see that Varin was standing right beside her bed, looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I…um…” She suddenly realized she still had one hand under the covers, cupping her pussy. With a jerk, she drew it out and then, realizing her fingers were wet with her juices, she tried to hide it back under the covers again.

But Varin was too quick for her. Reaching down, he caught her guilty hand before she could push it back under her sheets.

“What…what are you doing? Let me go!” Brynn demanded in her most imperious ‘I am a Princess’ voice.

“Not until we talk this out.” Still holding her hand, he sat down on the side of her bed and raised an eyebrow at her. “I know what you’re doing, Brynn.”

She felt her cheeks go hot with shame.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I…I’m not doing anything.”

In answer, Varin brought her hand to his lips and sucked her fingers into his mouth. Brynn watched, wide-eyed, as he carefully cleaned away her juices, lapping slowly as though to savor every bit of her honey.

“I know what you’re doing,” he repeated, his voice a soft growl. In the dim room, his bronze eyes seemed to glow. “And I know it’s not doing you a damn bit of good.”

Brynn snatched her hand back.

“Have you been watching me—having visions of me, I mean?”

“Some,” he admitted. “But mostly I can hear you through the walls—the same way I hear you when you have one of your nightmares.”

Above all things, Brynn didn’t want to discuss the nightmares. Even admitting to touching herself was better than that.

“I…I just thought I’d sleep easier if I could, you know, reach the peak first,” she admitted in a low voice. “Only…I can’t. No matter how hard I try.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I can hear you trying.”

“I wish I had that little tickle-teaser you gave me back at the palace,” she said wistfully. “I don’t understand why I can’t…can’t seem to manage without it.”

“Different things work for different people,” Varin said reasonably. “Some females have a difficult time just using their fingers.”

“How do you know what works for females?” Brynn demanded. “Have you had a lot of experience before I came to the palace?”

“None, actually,” he said blandly. “I’ve been blood-bonded to you since I was seven solar years old. Which means the idea of being with any other female sexually is unthinkable.”

“Really?” Brynn sat up in bed and stared at him. “You were…faithful to me even before you knew me? I mean, before you met me in person?”

“Always, Mistress. My chastity is yours,” he said, giving her a level stare.

“But…then I don’t understand. How do you know so much about females and what, uh, works for them?” Brynn asked. “How did you know to give me that tickle-teaser?”

“It’s as I told you before—no one pays attention to a slave. People talk.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t always in the Arena before I came to guard you. I was often much in demand to guard at female ceremonies and affairs of state.” He made a wry face. “If there’s a hornier, more lustful creature than a Galen noblewoman, I don’t know what it is. The tales I’ve heard by simply standing there and being ignored…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Tell me more.” Brynn couldn’t help being intrigued. “What did you hear? About…about how females, um, help themselves?”

“Well…” He appeared to consider. “Some swear by the water nozzle in their bathing chambers—the kind with the moveable head?”

Brynn nodded. “I’ve seen that kind but we don’t have one in the fresher here.” She frowned. “Of course there are the jets in the bubble pool, but I can’t help thinking those might be too forceful. What else?”

“Hmm…most of them had a variety of toys like the tickle-teaser I got you,” Varin said. “But of course we have nothing like that here.”

“There must be something else.” Brynn felt frustrated enough to start crying again. “There must be, Varin—Goddess above I just…I feel so hungry inside.”

It was the closest she could come to telling him about the aching emptiness that had invaded her and wouldn’t leave her alone. Brynn didn’t dare say more lest she might have to explain about her dreams.

But Varin seemed to understand.

“Don’t fret, little one—we’ll find a way to help you. Here…” He motioned for her. “Come sit by me for a moment.”

“Why?” Brynn asked but she was already sliding out of the covers and going to sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

She was wearing a silky kind of undershirt—at least she thought it was an undershirt. It had shorter sleeves than the dress shirts she wore during the day but the same low-cut v-neck that fell almost to her navel. The hem of it ended high on her thighs and of course she had no underpants to wear under it, so she felt bare and vulnerable as she sat beside the big Kindred.

Vulnerable but still safe—always safe with Varin who still felt like home and security to her. Which was why she didn’t protest when he reached for her.

“Here.” Varin sat her on his lap, facing him, positioning her so that she was sitting with one of his muscular thighs between her legs.

Brynn felt awkward balanced on his knee and she wasn’t sure what was going on.

“What are you doing?” she asked, frowning a little. “I don’t understand.”

“Some females are able to reach the peak by rubbing against something,” he explained. “Brace your hands on my shoulders and press down against my thigh.”

“Varin…I…I don’t know if I should.” Brynn felt herself blushing from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

“Why not?” he asked reasonably. “Are you ashamed to find pleasure in front of me? I’ve already seen you, little one—seen you and heard you and smelled the sweet scent of your pussy when you get hot and come so hard it makes you moan.”

His bronze eyes were blazing into hers and his words made her shiver. Brynn felt she was going to be consumed by the heat that filled her. The edges of her vision were tinged red again and she could feel her body wanting something…wanting to be close to his body, maybe. His maleness seemed to draw her—pull her in a way she didn’t understand. And yet she was still embarrassed…still ashamed.

“Varin,” she protested. “I…I shouldn’t use you for my pleasure.”

“On the contrary, Mistress—that’s what I’m here for,” he murmured. “Make use of me any way you want. If it helps you find what you’re seeking, my body is yours to command.”

“Well…” Brynn bit her lip. “I…I guess it couldn’t hurt to just…just try.”

Varin was silent at this, but his bronze eyes, blazing in the darkness, were all the encouragement Brynn needed.

She’d been sitting with her knees drawn together as much as possible, keeping intimate contact to a minimum but now she relaxed her stance. Bracing her hands on his broad, bare shoulders, she leaned forward experimentally, opening her thighs so that her bare pussy came in contact with his leather-clad thigh.

Hmm… Brynn bit her lip in concentration. That felt good. Experimentally, she rolled her hips forward, pressing harder so that her pussy lips opened and the tender, swollen nub of her clit pressed against the hard muscles of the big Kindred’s thigh.

The moment she felt his rock-hard muscle connecting with her throbbing button, Brynn knew this could work. A jolt of pure pleasure ran through her and she bit back a moan. Goddess above, that was really good!

And it wasn’t just the pressure of Varin’s hard thigh between her legs—it was the nearness of his big body—his warm, spicy, masculine scent and the feel of his bare skin under her fingers. It felt so good—so right—to have him close to her like this while she felt such intimate pleasure. It heightened her experience and made it feel even better.

She rolled her hips again…and then again, riding his rock-hard thigh, rubbing her wet pussy against the slippery black leather as she dug her fingers into his shoulders and tried not to moan.

“Goddess, little one…” Varin’s voice was a hoarse growl. “You’re so beautiful…so wild when you seek your pleasure. So hot when I feel your little pussy grinding against my thigh.”

His deep voice and forbidden words seemed to add another layer to her pleasure, to push her even higher, even closer to the peak.

“Talk to me, Varin,” she begged, shamelessly working herself against him now. “Tell me…tell me things.”

“What things, little one?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Naughty things,” Brynn whispered breathlessly. “Forbidden things.”

His bronze eyes were sleepy with lust and amusement.

“You want me to talk dirty to you, Princess?”

“Yes,” Brynn gasped, pressing hard against his thigh. “Goddess, yes—please Varin!”

“Do you want me to tell you how hard you make me when you rub against me like this?” he murmured. “How I can scent the heat of your pussy and it makes me want you so badly I can hardly see straight? But then, I’ve wanted you from the moment you came back to the palace, Princess.”

“You…you have?” Brynn looked at him with wide eyes.

He nodded. “I have. Does it bother you to hear it?”

“No.” Brynn shook her head. “No, I…I like it. Tell…tell me more.”

“Should I tell you how good your pussy honey tasted when I licked it off your fingers just now?” Varin murmured. “Should I tell you how I wish I could taste it right from the source? Put my head between your legs and tongue open your soft little pussy lips to lick that hot little clit I can feel grinding against me?”

“Oh! Oh, Varin…” Brynn gasped. “I…I’ve imagined you doing that,” she admitted breathlessly as she continued to ride his thigh, her pleasure growing and growing. “Ever since you told me my little bump was called a clit and that…that it felt good when a male touched or licked there.”

“Gods, I’d love to lick you there, little one,” he growled, his eyes flashing with lust. “Love to feel you quiver under my tongue while I lapped you to orgasm over and over again…”

“Oh!” Brynn moaned again and felt a cool breeze on her chest. Looking down, she saw that her night shirt was gaping open to show her bare breasts, the wide v-neck pulled apart by the vigorous motion of her rocking. Her pink nipples were hard and thrusting, almost brushing against the broad planes of Varin’s chest with each stroke as she writhed against him.

Her first impulse was to clutch her shirt closed—but then she thought again. Why should she hide herself? And why shouldn’t she take as much pleasure as she could? She needed it, she reasoned with herself, needed it to reach that elusive peak that she was so desperate to get to.

“Varin,” she moaned as she rolled her hips. “Varin would you…could you…touch me?”

“With pleasure, Mistress,” he growled. Cupping her left breast in his right hand, he rolled her tight nipple between thumb and fingers, tugging gently until Brynn felt sparks of pleasure running from her breasts straight to her spread pussy.

“Varin!” she moaned. “I…I’m getting so close. Don’t stop…talk to me…touch me!”

“Gods, little one, you’re so damn beautiful,” he groaned. “You make my shaft so hard when you ask me to touch you.” He was tugging on her other nipple now. Brynn wished he would tease both at once but he still wasn’t using his gloved left hand for some reason.

But Varin made up for not using his other hand by ducking his head and capturing her other stiff bud between his lips.

Brynn gasped in surprise as his hot, wet mouth enveloped her and then, suddenly, she was at the peak—at the peak and over it as the hot suction of his mouth and the hard muscle of his thigh against her pussy made her come harder than she ever had with the tickle-teaser—harder than she’d ever come before in her life.

“Varin!” she moaned, throwing back her head and thrusting out her chest to give him better access to her bare breasts. “Yes, Varin, yes—suck me! Lick me! Goddess, I’m coming—you’re making me come! Come so hard.”

A low growl was her answer and he redoubled his efforts, switching to her other nipple to lick and suck and nip it, sending showers of pleasure/pain sparks through her entire body, intensifying her orgasm so drastically that Brynn thought she was going to pass out.

Goddess above, she couldn’t help thinking. This is good…this is right! Being with Varin, letting him touch me…taste me…it’s better than anything I ever could have imagined. I wish it could never end!

* * * * *

Varin thought Brynn had looked on the verge of blacking out for a moment, during the most intense part of her orgasm. Her eyelids fluttered and her heart was pattering as quickly as a little bird’s. For a moment he was concerned but she didn’t pass out—though she did eventually come to a stop, panting and gasping for breath.

Varin released the nipple he’d been sucking and teasing with his tongue and looked at her.

“You all right, little one?” he growled hoarsely. “Did you find enough pleasure?”

“Yes, I…I think so.” Brynn gave a soft little sigh of contentment and collapsed against his chest. “Goddess, Varin, that was so good,” she moaned.

“For me too, little one.” He stroked her back, still trembling with the aftershocks of orgasm. Holding her in his arms while she came had been the most erotic experience of his life—knowing that she was using his body to bring herself pleasure made him so hard he felt he might explode. Even now he could feel her soft little pussy, still spread open against his thigh. It made him so hot…as hot as Brynn.

He frowned a little as he stroked her back. Gods, she was hot! Or she had been up until the moment of orgasm. Her skin had been burning up, though it seemed to be cooling down a little now that she’d finally reached the peak. In fact, her whole body seemed to be relaxing towards sleep.

Brynn sighed and made a soft sound of contentment, nestling against his chest.

“Sleepy now?” Varin asked her, tenderly stroking her long, black hair away from one flushed cheek. “Think you can get some rest without having nightmares?”

“I…” Brynn yawned. “I think so. Thank…” She yawned again. “Thank you, Varin. That was amazing.” She looked up at him, her eyes sleepy but concerned. “But what about you? Are you…do you need to reach the peak too?”

“Later,” he assured her.

“Why not now?” Brynn suddenly looked a little more alert. “Why don’t you…you know…stroke yourself?”

Varin raised an eyebrow at her. “Here? Now?”

She bit her lip. “I…I saw you in my dreams but I’ve never seen you do it in…in person.”

“And do you want to, little one?” His voice came out in a low, lustful growl. “You want to watch me stroke myself?”

“Yes,” Brynn admitted in a soft, uncertain voice. “But only…only if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. But here, let’s get more comfortable.”

Varin moved her gently off his lap and back onto the bed. Then he sat beside her, as he had in her old bedchamber back at the Galen palace. Brynn snuggled close to his left side and he put an arm around her, glad that they didn’t need a sheet between them to keep the skin contact from being painful. Then he popped the tabs on his leathers and released his cock, which was throbbing with need.

“Oh…” Brynn whispered and put out a hand to touch him. But she drew back at the last minute. “Is…” She looked up at him. “Is this all right, Varin? Can I touch you?”

“If you want to, Mistress. I’ve told you again and again that my body is yours to command.”

“You’re not my slave anymore, Varin,” she reminded him. “I don’t own you.”

“Yes, you do,” he growled softly. “I’m yours body and soul, Brynn. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t.” She looked up at him. “But I don’t want you to let me touch you because you feel like I own you. I don’t want to touch you unless you want me to.”

In answer to that, Varin took her soft little hand and placed it directly on his aching shaft.

“Touch me, Mistress,” he said hoarsely. “I’m yours.”

Catching her lush bottom lip between her little white teeth, Brynn did as he said. Varin had to bite back a groan when her cool fingers caressed him, stroking tentatively up and down the length of his throbbing cock.

“Gods,” he growled. “Your little hand is so soft.”

“And you’re so hard…and so hot.” She looked up at him eagerly. “Varin, when will your cream come out? I…I’d really like to see that happen.”

“Keep it up and you will,” he promised her. “It just takes a little while and a lot of stroking.”

“Am I doing it right? Stroking you right, I mean?” she asked anxiously.

“You can go a little harder. Here.” He repositioned her hand so that her fingers were encircling his cock, showing her how to grip it just right and fist his shaft loosely while she moved her hand up and down.

Soon Brynn was stroking him in rhythm, a look of desire and anticipation in her big gray eyes.

Gods, she really wants to watch me come, Varin realized. Wonder why?

His throbbing shaft didn’t care why—it only knew Brynn’s soft, small hand felt incredible. He couldn’t hold himself back from catching her rhythm and thrusting up into the circle of her fingers. A bead of clear, slippery precum formed at the slit in the center of the head and Brynn slowed her stroking.

“Varin,” she murmured. “What’s that? The, uh, stuff that comes out before the cream? I always wondered when I watched you in my dreams.”

“That’s precum, little one,” he murmured. “It comes before the cream—to ease the way.”

“Ease the way?” She looked up at him uncertainly.

“You know how your little pussy gets wet when you’re touching yourself and bringing yourself pleasure?” he asked.

Brynn’s cheeks went pink and she nodded. “Yes.”

“Well that wetness is there to ease the way for a shaft to slide inside you. My precum serves the same purpose. It’s slippery and wet—helps with lubrication.”

“Oh,” she whispered in a small voice and he saw the fear in her eyes and knew she was thinking of that damn deflowering throne.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he said gently, stroking her hair. “I know what you fear—neither I nor anyone else will ever penetrate you like that again if you don’t wish it. I swear.”

“Thank you, Varin.” She looked up at him gratefully. “It just…hurt so much.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I felt your pain. I wish I could go back and stop it from happening.”

Brynn sighed and pressed her cheek against his chest.

“There is much that can’t be undone,” she murmured. “But I don’t want to think about the past right now. I want to live right here and now—in the present.”

“You seem to be doing a good job of it,” Varin nodded at her little hand which was still stroking him. “Gods, Brynn—love the feel of you touching me.”

“I love it too,” Brynn confessed. “I always wanted to, you know—touch you, I mean. But I couldn’t because of your obedience band.” She looked at him curiously. “How did you get rid of it, Varin?”

“That’s a story for another time.” He groaned and pumped up into her small fist again. “Right now I want to concentrate on how good your hand feels on me.”

“I like to make you feel good,” Brynn whispered. “You’ve endured so much pain for me, Varin—I like the idea of giving you pleasure instead.”

“You’re certainly doing that,” he growled. “Gods, little one…”

“Varin…this precum…” She swiped one thumb over the crown of his cock, collecting some of his moisture.

“Yes?” He looked down at her but Brynn had an unreadable expression on her face.

“How…” She cleared her throat. “How does it, well you know, taste?”

His heart thumped harder in his chest.

“Salty, I suppose. Why do you ask?”

“I…well, I…” Brynn looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t quite dare.

“Ask, little one,” he murmured. “Whatever you want…whatever you need, just ask for it.”

“Can I taste it?” she burst out at last. “Please, Varin? Just a little?”

Her question seemed to do something deep inside him—it was as though he could feel every muscle in his body tense with desire at once. But he kept his voice even and low.

“I have told you, Mistress—my body is yours to command. If you want to taste of me, you don’t have to ask.”

“I do,” she whispered. “I don’t know why but I do.”

“Do as you wish with me,” Varin growled softly.

Gods, if only she knew how crazy with need she made him! But though he loved and desired her, he wasn’t sure how she felt for him. That and the fact that his days were numbered unless they found his people quickly made him hold back from telling her his true feelings. Instead he did his best to hold still and allow her access to his shaft.

He expected her to capture another droplet of precum on her finger and taste it that way. Instead, she leaned over his lap and swirled her little pink tongue all around the broad, leaking head of his cock.

“Gods!” Varin whispered hoarsely. It was all he could do not to move as she continued to explore him delicately with just the tip of her tongue. Then she sucked the entire head into her mouth, pumping his shaft at the same time, as though she was trying to get more.

The erotic sight of the female he loved exploring him and the feeling of her sweet, hot mouth on him was almost too much.

“Brynn,” he growled urgently, tugging lightly on her hair. “Better stop, little one. The cream is coming sooner than I thought.”

Brynn did stop, but only for a moment. She looked up, her eyes huge and beautiful and hungry in the dim room.

“Varin,” she said in a low voice. “I want…I need to taste that too. Can I?”

“What are you asking me, Princess?” he asked in a soft, low voice. “Are you asking if you can lap it up after I shoot? Or do you want me to come in your mouth?”

“Goddess above…” Her eyes were suddenly heavy-lidded with need, her pupils dilated and her cheeks flushed with desire. “Yes, Varin,” she whispered. “That…that’s what I want. I want you to come in my mouth—shoot your cream while I suck you. Can…do you mind doing that?”

“Not if you’re sure you know what you’re in for,” he growled. “I tend to come a lot, little one—I don’t want to startle or frighten you when it happens.”

“I’m not afraid.” She eyed his cock hungrily. “I just want to feel your shaft throbbing between my lips while you shoot your cream down my throat, Varin.”

“Gods!” The sweet, dirty words in her soft voice were almost more than he could stand. “Keep sucking, then,” he said hoarsely. “You’ll get what you want soon enough. Probably more than you want if you’re not careful.”

“Yes, Varin.” She bent down again and went back to work on him, industriously swirling her tongue around the head of his cock and then taking as much of his aching shaft between her soft lips as she could.

It was all Varin could do to hold still and not thrust up to fuck her soft, hot mouth. Gods, he wanted to prolong the pleasure but seeing her sucking him like this, feeling her lips and tongue caress him was so intense he knew he wouldn’t last long. And sure enough, before he knew it his balls were tightening and he felt the first sharp stab of orgasm as his seed raced up his shaft.

“Here it comes, little one,” he growled, still trying to hold still. “If you changed your mind and don’t want it in your mouth, pull off now!”

But rather than pulling off, Brynn took him deeper with an almost hungry urgency as if she not only wanted to taste his seed—she needed to.

Varin felt the first spurt of hot cream leave the head of his cock and watched as her eyes grew wide. But then she swallowed and began sucking him more eagerly than ever, as though desperate to get every last drop from his spurting shaft.

“Gods, Brynn!” he groaned and gave himself up to the pleasure of her hot mouth on him. He stopped trying to hold back and just let the orgasm take him, letting it overcome him completely as he shot more and more into her hot mouth and Brynn eagerly swallowed it all.

* * * * *

Finally! This is what I need—this is what I’ve been craving! Brynn sucked and swallowed eagerly, feeling some of the awful heat and desire finally recede. Having an orgasm had helped a lot but tasting Varin’s cream seemed to help even more. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice hissed… “The Blood Honey will make you crave male fluids…”

Was that why she had been feeling so strange? So hot and needy and unable to help herself?

Well, that’s all over now, she thought contentedly as she sucked the last few drops from Varin’s shaft and let it slip from her mouth with a contented sigh. No more nightmares, no more aching need I can’t get rid of. I’m better now. All better.

Only she wasn’t.

Though she slept that night in peace, the next night she woke screaming with nightmares and the need that pulsed through her was worse than before.

“Little one? Brynn?” The moment she screamed, Varin was there, blinking sleep out of his eyes. “What is it?” he asked, sitting down beside her on the bed. “Another nightmare?”

“I thought I was done with them—over them!” Brynn wanted to cry. In her head she could hear the high, evil voice of Sovereign X’izith hissing that she had to come back, that she was his, that she wouldn’t be satisfied until she felt his breeding barb between her thighs…

No! No, it’s a lie! she told herself fiercely. I don’t want to go back! I never want to be penetrated there again! It hurt—it was awful! I’ll never let anything between my thighs ever again!

“It’s all right, Princess.” Varin put an arm around her and she curled up by his side and put her head in his lap. Something hard nudged her cheek and he shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry. Just before I heard you scream I was…”

“Stroking yourself?” Brynn looked up at him. The empty, aching need that threatened to consume her suddenly had a solution. “Varin,” she said. “Can I…could I suck you again? It helped me sleep without nightmares the other night. Please?”

“Do whatever you want with me, Mistress,” he answered gently. “If you think it will make you feel better…”

“I do.” Eagerly, she unfastened his leather trousers and pulled out the long, hard shaft of his cock. She rubbed her cheek against his hot, silky skin. It was both the hardest and the softest place on his body and she loved the feel of it in her hands. His male musk was strong here too and she inhaled deeply, breathing in his spicy scent. Goddess above, she loved the way he smelled! It seemed to drive her desire even higher.

By pumping and licking and sucking him while Varin groaned and stroked her hair, she was soon able to get a load of his cream which was deliciously addictive as far as Brynn was concerned—it was salty but with a hint of bitter-sweetness she loved.

But though she had felt completely content after swallowing one load the night before, this time she found she wasn’t yet satisfied. Varin was still hard and so she kept sucking and licking, still eager for more. Finally he shot again…and then again and again. Brynn swallowed it all…but still she didn’t feel completely satisfied. He never seemed to go soft though, as long as she was stimulating him so she just continued.

Just once more, she told herself. I know I’ll feel better if I can suck him just once more…

But Varin seemed to have other ideas.

“Brynn…” he objected hoarsely, pulling her off his shaft gently when she started to suck him again. “We can’t go on like this all night. I’ll die of pleasure and dehydration.”

“I…I’m sorry.” She wiped guiltily at her mouth with the back of her hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, little one.” He stroked a strand of hair out of her face gently. “I’m just worried about you. What’s wrong?”

“What…what makes you think anything is wrong?” Brynn couldn’t look at him as she spoke. “Maybe I just like the taste of your cream.”

“No…I don’t think that’s it,” he growled softly. “I think something else is going on…has been going on for a long time. You want to tell me about it, Princess? Want to tell me about your nightmares?”

“No!” she exclaimed. Seeing his raised eyebrows, she realized she’d overacted “That is…I mean, I’d rather not,” she said quickly. “I…I really don’t even remember them. They just seem to…to fade away the moment I open my eyes.”

Liar, hissed a voice in her brain. You remember every bit! Every excruciating detail! How could you forget?

And how could she forget the way the nightmares made her feel? She was still hot and wet between her legs, her nipples ached, and the empty craving inside her was barely tamed, even after all the cream she’d swallowed.

Sick, I’m sick! she thought. Depraved. Why else would such terrible images and memories fill me with desire?

She realized that Varin was still looking at her with a frown on his face. Suddenly she felt naked—as though he would know the horrible things going on in her brain just by looking at her. It was the blood-bond he had to her, Brynn thought—it made him much too perceptive about her.

“So that’s your final story?” he asked at last. “That you can’t remember the nightmares and you feel just fine?”

“Yes.” Brynn lifted her chin.

Varin gave her a long, level look.

“You’re lying, little one. I don’t know why, though—you can tell me anything, you know.”

“Why should I?” Brynn snapped. “I thought you already knew everything about me. You’ve been watching me since I was born, haven’t you?”

Her anger seemed to take him aback. For a long moment he just looked at her. Then he sighed.

“Perhaps it’s better if we just get some sleep.” Tucking his shaft back into his trousers, he rose to go.

Brynn felt her heart clench into a fist in her chest and it was on the tip of her tongue to apologize. But somehow she just couldn’t.

“All right,” she said in a small voice. “Good night, Varin.”

“Good night, Mistress,” he murmured.

Brynn felt tears rise to her eyes and pushed them back down. Usually she didn’t mind when he called her that. But sometimes it seemed he called her “Mistress” when he wanted to put distance between them.

Only I’m the one who did that, she told herself. I’m the one who pushed him away. But how could she do otherwise? Varin had said she could tell him anything but how could she possibly tell him this? Tell him her shameful secret that her horrible nightmares were making her wake shaking not just with terror…but also with desire?

He’d think I was sick. I am sick. I have to hide it! I don’t want him to hate me…to be disgusted by me. I love him too much for that.

The thought came to her with a blinding flash of insight. She loved Varin—she had always loved him. And she’d been brave enough to tell him just before they were parted on Galen. But somehow she hadn’t managed to work up the nerve to say it again since he’d rescued her.

Because of the dreams, she thought miserably. Because of how awful they are…how awful I am for having them…for reacting to them. What male would want to be with me if he knew?

No one—of that she felt sure.

“Good…good night, Varin,” she whispered at last, realizing he was waiting for her to dismiss him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“All right. Good night, Mistress,” he said again and left.

Still fighting back tears, Brynn curled on her side, pressing her face to the warm spot on the pillow where he’d been while he comforted her and she sucked him.

But it was a long…long time before she could go back to sleep.

Chapter Twenty-eight

The next few days were incredibly tense. For one thing, Varin was excruciatingly aware of how close he was getting to the expiration of his slave chip. They were pushing the stolen ship hard—going as fast as the hyperdrive and the hydrogen-scoop engine would let them—but still they were at least a day’s flight from the Blind. And he was well aware that when they got there, they still had to go through it to get to the other side and hopefully find his people. Would he make it? He honestly didn’t know.

But that wasn’t the only source of tension—Brynn’s nightmares had gotten worse.

He knew because he heard her crying out in the night and when he came to wake her, he found her with tears in her eyes. It was always the same—she was shaking and crying, her skin was feverish to the touch and her scent almost unbearably hot to his sensitive nose. Clearly she was in need but now, instead of welcoming his comfort, she pushed him away, insisting she was fine.

It made Varin’s heart fist in his chest to see her pain, yet have her deny him and send him away, refusing any comfort he could have given. He wanted desperately to take her in his arms, to dry her tears and ease the awful ache he felt inside her, but Brynn kept pushing him away.

He wished he could confront her as he had about the way she’d been unable to help herself come. He had the feeling that problem was tied to the other—the recurring nightmares and the pain and ache he felt inside her. But for some reason, Brynn was afraid to talk to him about it and he didn’t like to push.

Going to have to push soon, though, he told himself grimly. This problem, whatever it is, is making her sick. I can’t let her get ill if there’s something I can do to prevent it or to heal her. What if my chip gives out and she’s all alone and incapacitated? Can’t let that happen…

That was the thought at the back of his mind during their sparring lesson when things finally came to a head. Brynn looked tired and hollow-eyed and her reflexes were off. Though she’d become quite a good fighter, she let Varin get inside her guard twice, even though he wasn’t pushing her that hard.

Finally, he couldn’t keep his worry for her inside anymore—it came out in a burst of frustration the second time she let him land what would have been a killing blow if they’d been fighting in earnest.

“Goddess damn it, Brynn!” he spat as he held the wooden hanger rod he was using as a training dagger to her throat. “What’s wrong with you? I could have killed you twice just now and you just let me.”

“I didn’t mean to!” she exclaimed, pushing away from him. “I’m sorry, Varin, I’m just so tired today.”

“You’re tired because you’re not fucking sleeping,” he growled. “I know because I hear you waking up a dozen times a night crying.”

“I can’t help it!” Brynn shouted. “I can’t help what I dream!”

“No, but maybe I could help you if you’d let me,” he snapped back. “If you’d ever tell me what you’re dreaming.”

“Can’t you see it?” she demanded. “You see everything else about me.”

“I get visions of you sometimes and I dream of what you do but I can’t see into your mind, Brynn. I can’t read your thoughts or see your dreams. Although I damn well wish I could, at least in this case.”

Varin sighed and transferred the hanger to his mostly useless, gloved left hand so he could run his right hand through his hair.

“I wish I knew why you’re shutting me out,” he said in a low voice.

“I’m not shutting you out,” she denied hotly.

“You are!” Varin snapped. “I don’t understand why you’re keeping secrets from me, Brynn. Was it something that happened at the Hive? Something you’re not telling me? Did that bastard X'izith get his barb in you after all and you were just too scared to tell me?”

“No!” she nearly shrieked, really upset now. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and her little hands were balled into fists. “Never! He didn’t…I wouldn’t…he never…”

Brynn shook her head, her long black hair whipping around her face. She seemed to be struggling for the right words and Varin was sorry he had pushed her. But he had to push her, Goddess damn it! Had to find out what was going on with her before it was too late!

“Brynn…” he began but she cut him off.

“Anyway,” she said in a shaking voice, “I’m not the only one keeping secrets.”

“What?” Varin frowned, surprised at this side-angle attack. “What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?”

“That.” She pointed at his left hand, still encased in the brown leather glove. “Every time I ask about it you put me off—you tell me it’s a story for another time or it’s not important. I can tell something’s wrong but you won’t tell me what it is.”

“Fine,” Varin growled. “You really want to know? Want to see what I’ve been hiding?”

“Yes.” She put her hands on her hips and lifted her chin.

“Then I’ll tell you—show you even,” Varin said. “But not unless you promise to come clean with me too. Tell me about the nightmares. Tell me what’s bothering you, Brynn. Please.”

Her face went pale and for a moment he thought she would shout at him again or back down.

Instead she took a deep breath and crossed her arms protectively over her breasts.

“I’ll…think about it.”

That seemed to be the best he was going to get so Varin decided to take it.

“All right.” With a sigh, he thumbed the button that made the long, low couch come out of the wall. He dropped onto it, getting settled at one end and motioned for Brynn to join him.

She did, sitting a careful distance from him that hurt his heart. Was she scared of him now? Or was there some other reason she was avoiding him? What was happening with her?

Well, he would never find out her secret unless he told her his first, Varin reasoned. He held up his gloved left hand and raised an eyebrow at her.

“You sure you want to see this?”

“Show me,” she said in a low voice and he saw that her own hands were clenched together tight in her lap.

Varin sighed again. He’d been hoping to avoid this moment but now he saw it couldn’t have been avoided forever—only put off. And he had put it off long enough. With quick, jerky motions he stripped off the brown leather glove, showing the mangled remains of his left hand.

It really didn’t look as bad as it had at first. The thumb and forefinger had almost completely regrown, making it at least marginally useful, though it was still very weak. The rest of the hand, however, including his middle, ring, and little finger had never managed to regrow. It looked a little like someone had chopped his hand in half, leaving only the first two digits intact.

Brynn gave a little gasp at the sight of his mangled limb and put her hand to her mouth.

“Oh, Varin—what happened?” She frowned at him. “And don’t you dare say it’s a long story or a story for another time!”

“Fine,” he said shortly. “It was on the slave ship—the one your mother sold me to. They had us manacled to the wall of the hold with titano-silver bands—completely unbreakable. I know because I tried—I stole a blaster off one of the slavers and shot at the damn thing—didn’t so much as scratch it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Then how…how did this happen?”

“I had to get out somehow and I didn’t have any other choice. So…” Varin rubbed the back of his neck. “I shot it off—my hand, I mean.”

“You what? You blasted your own hand off?” Her gray eyes were wide. “Wasn’t there any other way to get free?”

“Not if I didn’t want to be carried light years in the wrong direction,” Varin growled. “I knew what you were heading into—remember I told you the Tempath beside me had information on the Hive? Anyway, it was my only chance to get away.” He shrugged. “So I took it.”

“To get back to me. To save me. You…you shot off your own hand for me.” There were tears in her eyes again and her cheeks were pale. “Oh Varin, why?”

“Because I love you,” he said simply, letting it out at last. “I always have. I can’t help it.”

“Because they wouldn’t let you help it,” she whispered. “Because they bonded you to me when you were just a child and I was only a baby—my parents made you care for me. Care so much you’d even mutilate yourself and risk your life to save me.” Her eyes overflowed and she took his left hand in both of hers and kissed it again and again, pressing it to her wet, flushed cheek. “I’m so sorry, Varin. So, so sorry!” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” he said roughly. “I’m not. That damn blood-bond isn’t the only reason I love you, Brynn. I’ve always felt a connection to you—how could I not? But after getting to know you, seeing how different you were from the other females at Court, that’s when I fell for you.”

She gave a broken little laugh.

“Because I was ignorant?”

“Because you were innocent.” Varin drew his left hand away gently and put the glove back on. “Because you have a light in you nothing can put out. That’s why I’m yours, little one. Why I’ll always be yours.”

“I don’t feel so innocent and light right now,” she whispered.

Varin sensed they were about to get to the heart of the matter—the crux of the issue that had been bothering her.

“Why not?” he said softly. “Tell me, Brynn.”

“I can’t. It…it’s too bad.” Her voice was low and hurt-sounding—almost a whisper. “You…you won’t want to be around me anymore if I tell.”

“Nothing could be so bad that it would make me stop loving you,” he swore softly. “Please, Brynn, trust me.”

“It’s the…the dreams I’ve been having,” she said at last, the words coming out in a rush. “The nightmares. I lied—I remember them, every last bit. They’re all about what I saw in the Hive…and what happened to me there.”

“What happened, little one?” he asked softly. “I got snatches and bits in the visions I had of you but I didn’t get it all—not nearly. So tell me—please?”

“It…may not be easy for you to hear.” She looked up at him. “And I know it won’t be easy to tell.”

“Maybe not but I think you need to tell it, don’t you?” he murmured. “So come on, Princess—let it out.”

“All right.” Looking down at her hands, she began to talk, speaking of walking into the Hive, being marked by the spray of sticky droplets, crossing the bridge over the charnel pit of corruption and death in the heart of the sprawling complex.

Varin felt his heart climb into his throat as she described how the insect sentry had bitten the head off one of her guards who had been part of the crew that flew her to the Hive’s home planet. And when she explained what had happened to Amalthia, his good hand clenched into a fist.

“Gods,” he said hoarsely. “That’s fucking horrible Brynn!”

“They…the grubs chewed their way out of her,” she whispered and her eyes were wide and haunted. “She screamed and screamed. I thought…Varin, I thought I would go crazy.”

“A weaker mind would have broken,” he murmured. “But yours didn’t, Brynn. You can be sure of that.”

“Can I?” She gave him a humorless smile and went on, telling about how Sovereign X'izith had entered the breeding chamber and removed his hands and face. About how he had ordered that she be dosed with the Blood Honey. “It was the same stuff they gave to Amalthia to stop her screaming,” she whispered. “And Varin it…I think had some…some effect on me.”

“What effect, little one?” He frowned. “Do you think you’re sick?”

“Yes!” She swiped at her eyes. “Yes, I’m sick—but not the way you mean.”

“How then?” He leaned forward, taking one of her hands in his. “Tell me. Make me understand.”

“The dreams, they’re so horrible but… but when I wake up…” She bit her lip fiercely—so fiercely Varin was afraid she would start to bleed. What could be so bad that she would rather hurt herself than say it aloud?

“Brynn,” he said in a soft, commanding voice. “Tell me.”

“When I wake up,” she went on in a rush. “When I wake up I’m horrified…terrified. But I’m also…also…” She made a motion with one hand.

“Hot?” Varin suggested softly since it seemed she was unable to finish. “Filled with desire?”

Her eyes flew wide and she stared at him.

“How…how could you possibly know that?”

“Your scent,” Varin said. “Haven’t I told you how attuned to you I am, little one? I can tell when you’re in need—it’s how I knew you needed to come the other night.” He smiled a little. “Well, that and the noises you were making.”

“Yes…yes, I wake up from those awful dreams feeling hot…feeling needy…empty inside.” She spoke as though making a confession. “But that’s sick, Varin! How could such awful images make me…make me that way?”

“I don’t think it’s the images or the memories, I think you were right before—that it has to do with the Blood Honey that bastard forced on you.” He clenched his jaw. “Gods, if I ever get another chance at him it won’t just be his Goddess damned stinger I cut off!”

Brynn shivered. “I never want to see him again. And that’s the worst part of the nightmares—I hear him. Hear his voice calling me back. And even though I know I don’t want to go, somehow part of me is drawn to him.”

Her words really alarmed Varin.

“You have to fight that, Brynn!” he growled, looking into her eyes. “Fight it, do you hear me? If that bastard gets his hands on you again you’ll end up just like Amalthia did.”

“I know that! Don’t you think I know it?” she cried. “I don’t want to ever go back there again? But I just…” She ran a hand through her hair distractedly. “I keep thinking about that horrible breeding barb of his,” she whispered in a low voice. Thinking…thinking how it would feel inside me. Even though I never, never want to be penetrated again. Ever. But still…I can’t stop thinking of it.” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with fear. “I think I’m going crazy, Varin.”

He shook his head. “You’re not crazy, little one. There must be a reason for this—a reason for the hold X'izith has over you, even light years away from the Hive.” He frowned. “You said before you thought it had something to do with the Blood Honey—why?”

“Well, because I’ve felt different ever since I was forced to drink it. And because of what the Sovereign said.” Brynn cleared her throat, obviously embarrassed. “He said it would…would make me more ready to receive him. And that it would make me crave, uh, male fluids.”

“Gods!” Varin rubbed the back of his neck. Well, at least now he understood her behavior the other night when it seemed she’d been trying to suck him dry.

“I’m sorry, Varin,” she said in a low voice. “I know all this is a lot to take in. It must be awful for you to hear.”

“Not nearly as awful as it has been for you to bear all alone. Brynn…” He lifted her chin and looked into her lovely gray eyes. “Never hide something like this from me again. I need to know what’s going on with you if I’m going to help you—if I’m going to protect you and keep you safe.”

“All right,” she whispered. “But…you don’t think I’m awful?”

Varin looked at her incredulously. “Of course I don’t think you’re awful, little one. You can’t help what was done to you—we just have to find a way to deal with it.”

“Well, there’s, um, the obvious way.” She cleared her throat and looked meaningfully at his crotch.

Varin followed her eyes. “You mean let you suck me again? It would be my pleasure, Mistress, but it didn’t seem like it was doing you that much good last time.”

“No…” Brynn sighed and looked down. “No, I guess it wasn’t.” She bit her lip. “I keep feeling this…this emptiness inside, Varin. This need to be filled.”

“But you don’t want to be filled,” he pointed out. “You don’t want me to put my shaft inside you.”

“Goddess above!” Her cheeks flushed and her breathing became short and sharp but she shook her head decisively. “No—no I’m sure I don’t want that. But maybe…”

“Maybe what?” Varin prodded gently.

“Maybe…is there a way to…to get your, uh fluids—your cream—inside me without, you know, putting your shaft in me?”

“You could rub against me, I suppose.” He felt a surge of lust at the idea and tried to push it back down. This was about Brynn—about helping her get over the strange, strong cravings the Blood Honey had caused in her.

“Could I?” She looked at him hopefully. “Could I try rubbing my…my pussy against your shaft the way I rubbed against your thigh the other night? I…” She bit her lip. “I can’t help thinking that if I could reach the peak and have your cream in me at the same time I might be able to get over this awful feeling inside me. This emptiness and need.”

Privately, Varin thought that the only thing that would help her over the emptiness would be to fill her pussy completely, but he completely understood her reluctance to have anything inside her again. After the traumatic deflowering she had undergone, she was bound to feel that way.

“My body is yours to do with as you please, Mistress,” he murmured, stroking her cheek. “Do whatever you want with me.”

“All right.” She hopped off the couch and took him by the hand. “Come on.”

“Now?” Varin was a little surprised at the urgency in her eyes.

“Yes, please—now, Varin,” she said. “I…I’ve been living with this for days now—weeks. I need you.”

“I’ll give you everything in my power,” he promised and meant it with his whole heart.

“Let’s go then.” And she led him into the bedroom.

* * * **

Brynn couldn’t shed her clothes quickly enough and Varin obligingly took off his leathers and boots. But once they were naked together, Brynn felt suddenly shy. She’d seen him half naked of course and he’s seen her and they’d done things together—things the Sisters at the convent would have condemned as sinful and wrong—but that had been in the dark—or at least the semi-dark. Standing there in full light with nothing to shield her nudity made Brynn blush and tremble.

Varin seemed to understand her problem because he murmured, “Lights dim” and immediately the lighting lowered to a soft golden glow in the corners of the room. “Now, Princess,” he said. “How do you want me?”

Brynn understood that he intended to let her take charge and she felt a surge of gratitude. It made things much easier and less stressful to be able to dictate this particular scene exactly the way she needed it to go.

But how did she need it to go? Brynn bit her lip in concentration.

“I think…I want you lying in the middle of the bed,” she said at last.

He laid in the middle of the fancy feather-foam mattress on his back, his big, muscular frame nearly filling the whole thing. Brynn took him in, letting her eyes rove over his completely naked body for the first time.

Goddess above he was beautiful to look at! If you could use the word beautiful for a male. It was a masculine beauty, she decided—he was all long muscular legs, broad shoulders, and rippling abdominals. She liked the light dusting of coarse black hair across his chest and the beard shadow on his square jaw. And of course, there was his shaft—already it was standing at attention for her and Brynn could see a bead of clear precum on the broad head.

She focused on that droplet, feeling the hungry ache inside her grow until she thought she would go crazy if she couldn’t fill it. Goddess, she needed him so badly.

“Have you looked your fill, Mistress?” Varin’s deep, rumbling voice made her head jerk up.

“Oh…sorry,” she blurted. “I was just thinking how…how beautiful you are.” She felt silly as soon as the words were out of her mouth but Varin grinned a little.

“I was thinking the same thing about you, little one. Your high breasts with their tight little nipples…the curve of your hips…that soft little pussy I see peaking out from between your thighs…” He made a hungry sound in the back of his throat. “Makes me so damn hard looking at your sweet body.”

“Th-thank you,” Brynn stuttered. She still felt shy about letting him see her completely unclothed but the heat burning in his bronze eyes helped her confidence considerably. “Are…are you ready?” she asked him.

Varin spread his hands, indicating his supine position.

“I’m here, Mistress. Make use of me,” he murmured.

“All right.” Taking her courage in both hands, Brynn climbed on the bed and threw one leg over his narrow, muscular hips. But when she was hovering over him with the wide head of his shaft right under her pussy, she wasn’t quite sure what to do.

“It’s all right,” Varin murmured, clearly sensing her uncertainty. “You can take me in hand if you want.”

“Thank you.” Brynn did as he said, grasping the thick, hot shaft of his cock in her palm. It throbbed in her fingers and she thought of how it had jerked and pulsed between her lips when he gave her his cream. Goddess above, she wished she could stand to have him between her thighs like that. Or, not just between her thighs, but actually up inside her pussy. But the memory of the pain and violation she’d felt when the silver deflowering wand did its dirty work put a damper on that idea.

Still, she could at least rub him against her—that much her body would allow.

Carefully, Brynn maneuvered so that the broad, leaking head of his cock was pointed at the inner folds of her pussy. Sliding his shaft against her heated flesh felt wonderful and when she felt a little bead of precum rubbing into her slippery depths, a moan of pure relief left her throat.

This—this—was what she needed, she suddenly understood. This but much more of it.

Varin had been watching her carefully, his bronze eyes hooded with desire. Now he spoke in a slightly hoarse voice.

“How is it, little one? Is that what you need?”

“Yes, but more—I need to get better contact with you,” Brynn said. To her frustration, the brief burst of relief she’d felt was already fading. She needed more of his fluids—needed them inside her.

Deep inside, whispered a voice but she wouldn’t listen to it. The things it suggested were too scary.

“Spread yourself open,” Varin suggested in a soft growl. “Open those plump little pussy lips and rub the head of my shaft right against your hot little clit, Brynn.”

Goddess! She had to bite back a moan at his forbidden words. She loved when he talked to her like that and one look at Varin’s bronze eyes, sleepy with lust, told her he knew it.

“All right,” she whispered. Still holding him with one hand, she spread her outer pussy lips with the other. She pumped his thick shaft until another, larger bead of precum appeared at its slit and then stroked the broad head directly against her heated clit. “Ahhh!” she moaned. Goddess above that felt good—felt right—but she needed more from him. Much more.

“Getting what you need, little one?” Varin murmured, his eyes still blazing.

“Almost…” She couldn’t help feeling that she needed his precum somewhere else—actually inside her. Daring greatly, she pumped him again and then pressed the flaring crown of his cock right against the entrance of her pussy.

“Careful, little one,” Varin warned. “Things are getting pretty slippery down there—you don’t want my shaft to actually slip inside you.”

“No…” Brynn bit her lip. “No, but I need more of your precum, Varin. And I need to feel pleasure while I get it.”

“Ride me,” he suggested, his deep voice hoarse. “I don’t mean put my shaft inside you—just rub your sweet pussy up and down the length of my cock. The more you rub, the more precum I’ll make.”

“And…it won’t hurt you if I press down on you like that?” Brynn asked uncertainly. “I won’t, uh squish you?”

He laughed, the deep sound rumbling through him and vibrating her entire body. “Look how little you are, Princess. No, you won’t hurt me rubbing your sweet little pussy against my cock.”

His dirty words made her feel hot all over again and helped override her uncertainly. Goddess, she needed this and Varin was offering it to her for the asking. All she had to do was reach out and take it.

Feeling bolder, she spread the lips of her pussy again and settled right over the hard ridge of his cock. A little moan escaped her lips when she rubbed her throbbing clit against his broad shaft. It felt so good Brynn did it again…and then again.

Before she knew it, she was sliding up and down, rubbing her heated inner pussy against the long, hard length of him, ending at the broad, flaring head every time. Each time she stroked against him, his shaft made more of the delicious precum she needed. Brynn started to linger there, tilting her pelvis so that the flaring tip of his cock kissed the entrance to her pussy each time. She didn’t want him all the way inside her, she told herself, even as sparks of pleasure flared from their intimate contact. But she did like it when just the tip nudged her slippery opening.

“Gods, little one, be careful,” Varin growled hoarsely, gripping her hips as she rubbed against him. “You’re going to make me shoot.”

“But that’s what I want—for you to shoot your cream all over my pussy,” Brynn protested breathlessly, still rubbing.

“Yes, but I don’t know if it would be such a good idea to shoot inside you,” he pointed out.

“Why not? I want it inside me—no, I need it inside me,” Brynn protested. “I mean, not your whole thick shaft—that would hurt too much and…and be too scary. But maybe…maybe just the tip?” She looked at him hopefully.

Varin looked like he was trying to control himself. There was a muscle working at the side of his jaw and his hands were clenched tight at her hips.

“Little one,” he said in a strained voice. “Remember I told you it’s the cream that plants a seed inside you? If you put the tip of my cock in your little pussy and let me shoot inside you, there’s a good chance you’ll get a big belly. Is that what you want?”

“I…I don’t know.” Brynn bit her lip. She hadn’t considered that possibility—she just knew what felt good and how desperately her body needed his fluids. She hadn’t had her cycle in ages and she thought this was why—because her body was craving what only Varin could give her. “I thought it had to be, you know, all the way up inside me to make me…” She cleared her throat. “To make me pregnant.”

“Well, it helps to have a male’s cock as deep as possible inside you if you’re trying to get pregnant,” he growled. “But it can still happen even if just the head of my shaft is in your pussy.”

“But Varin, I need it,” she begged softly. “I need your cream inside me. It’s the only thing that will help—I just know it.”

He sighed. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to plant my baby in your belly. But I just…don’t want to leave you pregnant and alone if something happens, little one.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Brynn said fiercely. “We’re going to get through the Blind in time and find your people. So don’t even talk about that right now!”

“But—”

“No.” She leaned down and put a finger to his lips to shush him. Then she began to move again, making sure the broad tip of his cock kissed the entrance to her pussy with every stroke.

“Brynn—” he started to protest but she shook her head.

“You keep saying your body is mine to do with as I choose. Well I choose to have your cream inside me, Varin. Right… up… inside… my… pussy.”

With each word she stroked again, rubbing her slippery inner folds against the hard ridge of his cock. Goddess above she was getting so close to coming—rubbing against his shaft was so much better than rubbing his thigh.

“Gods, Mistress—I’m yours,” Varin groaned. “Do what you want with me.” As he spoke, she felt the tell-tale twitching of his shaft which meant he was about to come.

“This is what I want to do,” Brynn told him. Leaning back, she took him in hand again and fit the broad, flaring crown of his cock to the slippery entrance of her pussy.

With a low groan, Varin released. Though he wasn’t very far inside her at all with just the tip of his cock kissing the mouth of her pussy, the spurts of hot white cream he sent inside her were powerful. Brynn gasped as she felt them drench the inside of her pussy, shooting deep inside to fill the hungry void that had opened in her the moment the Blood Honey passed her lips.

The sensation of the big Kindred coming in her, even though his shaft wasn’t filling her, brought on her own orgasm. With a gasp, she felt her body tense and her pussy muscles clamp down on the flaring crown that just barely breached her. It made a kind of seal between them, connecting them more firmly, ensuring that not a single drop of his seed slipped outside as her pussy sucked hungrily at his spurting cock.

Her orgasm seemed to go on and on and so did Varin’s. Brynn didn’t know if it was because he was coming in her pussy instead of her mouth but he seemed to just keep shooting. She lost count of the hot spurts of cream that invaded her open pussy, lost all sense of time and place as he came in her again and again, making her gasp and squirm though she was careful always to keep him from sliding further in.

At last their pleasure ebbed and she collapsed forward, onto his chest.

“Goddess above, Varin,” she panted, nuzzling his broad, heaving chest. “That was so good—so right.”

“Felt right to me too, little one,” he rumbled, stroking her back. “Did it help? You feel better?”

“I think so.” Brynn lifted off him, breaking the seal between them at last and watched with wide eyes as copious amounts of his cream ran out of her pussy. “Wow—I thought it seemed like you were coming a lot,” she whispered in awe.

He frowned. “I think it was my body trying to claim you—trying to plant a baby in your belly.” He shook his head. “I hope it didn’t succeed. Not now, anyway.”

“If it happens, it happens,” Brynn said. Leaning forward, she kissed his mouth tenderly. “I’m not afraid, Varin. Even if you made me pregnant, it was worth it. Because I…I love you too.”

His bronze eyes widened. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Why? It’s true.” She kissed him again, enjoying the sensation of being on top—in charge. “I think I’ve always loved you. I just couldn’t admit it after you rescued me because, well, I felt like I was going crazy.”

“It was just the Blood Honey,” he assured her. “And you’re feeling better now, right?”

“Much better.” Brynn sighed contentedly. “Although…” She wiggled her hips. “I wouldn’t say no to doing that again.”

“You ought to say no,” Varin said sternly. “Every time we do that—every time I shoot my cream inside your pussy—we take a risk.”

“Look at me, Varin…” She nodded down at herself. “I’m dripping with your cream. The risk has already been taken.”

He sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Very well, you’re lucky I don’t need recovery time like most males.”

“Recovery time?” Brynn asked curiously.

“Time to let my shaft get hard again.” He shrugged. “Most males take time to do that—they go soft in between orgasms.”

“But you don’t—which is good,” Brynn remarked. “I wonder if it has to do with your people. Are all Kindred males able to keep going and going?”

“Your guess is as good as mine on that,” he said dryly. “Let’s hope we get to find out.”

“We will.” Brynn lifted her chin, determined to be positive. “We’re almost to the Blind. We’ll be through it and finding your people before you know it.”

“I hope you’re right, little one,” he growled softly.

“I know I am,” Brynn declared with more confidence than she felt.

But what if we don’t make it? whispered a little voice in her head. What if Varin’s slave chip gives out before we find his people?

Brynn pushed the frightening thought aside. That’s not going to happen! We will make it. I love Varin and he loves me—we’re going to be fine, she told herself firmly.

“Varin,” she said softly. “I like this…like being on top of you. But what if you got on top of me instead and rubbed against me that way?”

“Goddess, little one,” he groaned. “You don’t know how hard it is not to thrust my shaft deep in your sweet, sucking pussy. But if you wish me on top of you, I’m yours to command.”

“Do it then,” Brynn said. She climbed off him and Varin scooted over to let her lie in the center of the bed. He loomed over her and for just a moment she felt afraid. But then he leaned close and kissed her lips gently.

Looking into her eyes he murmured, “It’s all right, little one. Not going to hurt you. Just going to rub your soft little pussy with my cock. Just going to make you come for me so I can shoot my cream inside you.”

“Yes, Varin,” she whispered breathlessly and spread her legs for him. She gave a soft moan as she felt the broad shaft connect with her pussy once more.

But though Varin made her come and spurted his cream deep in her pussy many times, she still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that the emptiness inside her wasn’t…completely…filled.

Chapter Twenty-nine

“Master, the Blind approaches.” The worker bowed obsequiously, grooming its antennae as it spoke.

“Ah, good…good.” Sovereign X'izith nodded and rubbed his long, chitinous claws together in anticipation. He had made the decision to take the Hive’s main ship and travel to the vast cloud of cosmic dust that separated his part of the universe from the area the Kindred lived in because of something he had seen in his visions of the girl.

It didn’t always happen but for some reason the Blood Honey had caused an unusually strong connection between the two of them. So much so that he was able to invade her dreams and even catch glimpses of what she was doing at other times as well.

He knew how close she was…and also what she was doing.

“My Breeding Queen is near,” he told the worker. “She thinks that by harvesting the Kindred’s seed she can quell the urges the Blood Honey raised in her.”

“And can she?” The worker groomed anxiously.

“No.” X'izith gave a high, buzzing laugh. “It may help to slake some of her desire for a time but nothing but a deep breeding will completely quench the fire. And she’s too frightened to allow him to do that—she keeps his shaft from entering her, taking only the tip within her female channel.”

“That is not enough?” the worker asked, its compound eyes wide and watchful.

“Not nearly. Especially with that inadequate flesher staff of his, which is nothing like my own splendid barb.”

He unfolded his newly regrown breeding barb from his abdomen and inspected it with satisfaction. It had grown back even longer and sharper than before, its length pulsing with breeding venom, ready to implant the royal grubs as soon as his Queen was returned to him.

“Do you see this?” he demanded, pointing at the needle-sharp tip. “I am able to penetrate completely, to inject my royal grubs directly into a female’s womb. It is that action—the act of complete penetration with the intent to implant and impregnate—which soothes the ache the Honey causes. Nothing else will ease her need.”

“And you do not fear that she will grow brave and allow the Kindred male complete penetration?” the worker buzzed.

X'izith laughed again. “Even if she did, he would not take her hard enough to do her any good. Because of the design of his shaft with its stupid, blunt end, he would have to thrust into her extremely deep and forcefully. But I have seen how he treats her—like a little doll that must not be broken. He is a slave to her still, though we have stripped their planet. He will not hurt his “Mistress” even to save her. No—we are safe enough, so long as we recover them soon.”

As if in answer to his words, a scent came floating through the ship. The worker lifted his antennae, tasting the new flavor in the air and looked at X'izith excitedly.

“My Sovereign, your Breeding Queen’s ship has been sighted. They are preparing to enter the Blind!”

X'izith clicked his mandibles together in anticipation.

“After them,” he buzzed. “They must not escape! If they enter the Blind it will be difficult to find them.”

“There is a squadron of flight drones ahead of us already in pursuit,” the worker relayed after tasting the messages being sent from the control sector of the ship again. “Shall we pursue as well?”

“Yes! We must get to them—I must have my Breeding Queen. My barb aches to thrust between her thighs,” X'izith proclaimed. “Inform the flight drones to surround the ship but not to damage it—grappling hooks only. We must capture her alive.”

“It shall be done.” The worker scurried off to relay his orders while X'izith admired his breeding barb once more. “Soon, my Queen,” he murmured in his high, buzzing voice. “Soon you will be mine. I cannot wait to implant you with my grubs…”

Chapter Thirty

“We’ve got company.” Varin’s deep voice was grim as he surveyed the viewscreen in front of him, which showed a 360 degree view around the spaceship.

“What? What do you mean?” Brynn put down the strange First Meal patty she’d been chewing—it was as tough as leather and almost as tasteless—and ran over to where he was sitting in the control area.

“Look.” Varin pointed to the screen. Coming up fast from behind and both sides were a phalanx of strange looking ships. They looked more like they had been grown organically rather than built but there was no doubt they could move. “What do you want to bet those are Hive ships?” he growled.

“Goddess above—how did they find us? Do…do you think it was my dreams?” Brynn put a hand to her throat guiltily. “Do you think Sovereign X'izith was able to zero in on me and track us that way?”

“Doesn’t matter how they found us, only that they found us,” Varin said shortly.

“But what can we do? Where can we go?” Brynn asked frantically.

“We’re going to go where we were heading in the first place—the Blind.” He pointed to the viewscreen again. Directly ahead of their little ship was a vast towering wall of nothingness. There were no stars, no moons or planets or anything else that Brynn could see. Just blank blackness.

Brynn’s heart seemed to catch in her throat at the sight of so much nothing.

“Will…will we be all right in there?” she whispered.

“If the coordinates the Tempath gave me are correct—” He stopped abruptly and made a choking noise.

“Varin?” Brynn looked away from the viewscreen and saw that his entire big body had suddenly gone rigid. “Varin!” she gasped, grabbing him by the shoulder. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I…my…chip…” He was barely able to get the words out. It reminded Brynn horribly of the way he had spoken when her mother had frozen him with the pain collar.

“Varin, no! No, you have to be all right!” Pushing him forward, Brynn looked down at his bare lower back where she knew the slave chip was implanted. There was something there she had never seen before.

Raised letters had appeared in Standard on the olive skin of his back. They looked a little like the ones on his chest that spelled her name but these were glowing red.

“Chip Failure Imminent,” Brynn whispered to herself, reading in a choked voice. “Immediate Chip Replacement Recommended.” And below the words were a set of numbers. After a moment, Brynn realized they were running backwards.

It was a countdown and Varin had less than one solar hour to live.

“Goddess above,” she whispered. “No…oh, no.”

A sudden metallic thumping sound intruded on her panic.

“What…what was that?” she looked around wildly and saw the viewscreen was showing a different picture now. One of the lumpy, organic-looking ships had shot out some kind of line with a metal hook attached to it. A hook with claws that opened and shut, as though grasping for a hold. The hook had bounced off the side of their little ship—this time—but there were so many ships and if all of them had similar equipment, how long could it be before they were taken?

“Grappling…hooks.” Varin’s voice was choked. “Trying…to drag…us back.”

“They can’t!” Brynn slid between his legs and took the controls. “We’ll take evasive maneuvers!”

“No…time,” Varin choked out. “Turbo…boost. Fly straight…into…the Blind.”

“Turbo boost? But won’t that use up all the rest of our fuel?” Brynn looked for the control he was talking about—a small red button at the top of the control panel. Varin had told her never to touch it—it would give the little ship an immense burst of speed but at the cost of their entire reserve fuel tank. They wouldn’t even have enough power left over to use their stealth mode—which meant they would be very fast but also very visible.

“Can’t…help that. Push it,” Varin ordered. As he spoke, there was another clanging sound as a second Hive ship tried to catch them with its grappling hook.

They aren’t quite in range yet, Brynn realized, staring with wide, terrified eyes at the viewscreen. But they will be soon. And when they catch us…

The viewscreen flickered and showed something new again—the bulbous insectile head with its wide, black, soulless eyes was horribly familiar.

“Come back to me, Brynn,” hissed the high, evil voice of Sovereign X'izith. “Come back—you are a princess no more. I will make you my Queen. Come back to me and feel the sweet sting of my breeding barb between your thighs. You know you want to—nothing but a deep breeding will satisfy your need…”

Brynn felt like she was going crazy. In the space of a few seconds, everything had gone wrong! Varin was dying and the Hive had suddenly appeared out of nowhere like the culmination of some dark magic trick. She couldn’t even be sure if what she was seeing on the viewscreen was real or not. Was the alien leader really patching into their signal and projecting himself onto their little ship’s screen…or had he somehow invaded her mind and was making her think she saw him on the screen?

Deep in her body she felt an awful urge to answer the Sovereign’s hissing voice, to turn the ship and go back to him. Her body wanted her to—the empty ache inside her which Varin’s seed had only been able to partially sooth was growing again—crying out that she needed that sharp, horrible barb between her thighs…breeding her…filling her completely at last…

No! No, I have to fight these thoughts—these feelings!

Brynn shook her head fiercely, pushing away the alien urges that tried to rise within her. But she still didn’t know what to do. Behind them was the Hive. Before them, the Blind rose up, vast and blank and terrifying. They might be lost forever inside it. They might die.

I’d rather die with Varin than live to let myself be filled with those hideous grubs! she told herself grimly.

On the screen, X'izith hissed again.

“My Queen…come to me, my Queen…only a deep breeding can satisfy your burning need…”

Reaching forward, Brynn slapped the Boost button as hard as she could. The little ship shot forward into the Blind and the image on the viewscreen flickered to be replaced with black nothingness.

The Hive ships disappeared and she breathed a sigh of relief. They were safe now…weren’t they?

And then the viewscreen showed them again—the lumpy organic ships, now far distant, just specks on the horizon but still on their tail.

The Hive was still following them, even into the Blind. And how long would it be before they caught up?

“Goddess above,” Brynn whispered through numb lips. “What are we going to do?”

Chapter Thirty-one

“Hold on—something’s coming through.”

Commander Baird, the Master of Ships and head military commander of the Kindred Mother Ship’s armed forces, stared hard at his viewscreen. He’d been dispatched by the Kindred High Council with a battalion of ships to monitor the area of the Blind where Commander Terex had flown through on his last mission. It was the Council’s belief that the strange ships that had been invading Earth’s solar system and attacking Kindred ships were coming from the blank impenetrable wall of the Blind. Or rather, from the other side of the Blind.

Baird wasn’t sure if the alien invaders were coming from the Blind or not but he damn sure wasn’t going to let anything get past to attack Earth or the Mother Ship on his watch.

He kept his eyes on his viewscreen. The MO was always the same—the strange, alien ship would initiate contact and ask, “Are you Kindred?” If the pilot it queried answered in the affirmative, it attacked without hesitation and with a single-minded ferocity that was terrifying to behold. The insectile aliens seemed to care nothing for their own safety or survival—they sought only to do as much damage as possible before their strange ships were shot into so much space junk.

“I’ve got it on viewscreen,” one of the ships closest to the Blind announced. “It’s coming out now.”

Suddenly, the new ship popped up on Baird’s viewscreen too. Flying so fast out of the Blind, it was nothing but a blur—he could barely make out the details. Then the speaker crackled and a frantic voice asked,

“Are you the Kindred?”

“It’s hailing us—asking if we’re Kindred,” one of the pilots under his command shouted. “Commander Baird—should we shoot it down?”

Baird almost said yes. But there was something about the voice he’d heard through his comlink. It didn’t sound insectile or buzzing. It sounded…desperate. Female.

“Hold,” he said, speaking to the entire battalion. “Hold your fire.”

“But Commander, it’s coming right for us!” one of his pilots protested. “If it gets through—”

“I said hold your fucking fire!” Baird roared into his comlink. “All of you—stand down while I hail it.” He opened a channel and hailed the alien vehicle. “Alien vessel, this is Commander Baird of the Kindred Mother Ship. State your name and intention or be blown from the sky.”

“I’m Princess Brynnalla of Galen Prime,” came the reply. “And please—we need your help! My guard…the male I love…he’s Kindred too! But he’s dying! His slave chip is expiring in less than thirty solar minutes. And the Hive is right behind us. Please, please help us!”

There was a soft, desperate sob in the voice that seemed to catch at Barid’s heart. It was the sound of a female desperate to save the male she loved. But he still needed to be cautious.

“Show yourself,” he ordered.

“All right—I’m sending you a visual,” the female promised.

Baird flicked to visual on his viewscreen and saw a tear-streaked face framed in long black hair with wide gray eyes staring back at him.

“Look,” she said and moved so that he could see behind her. There was a male—unmistakably Kindred from his size and build—who appeared to be frozen in place in the chair behind her. His eyes were a shade of bronze Baird had never seen before but they weren’t that different from his own golden eyes—the trait of a Beast Kindred.

“What kind of Kindred is he?” he asked the girl on the screen.

“I don’t know—he’s never met any of his people. He was a slave all his life. He’s free now—but he’s dying because his slave chip is expiring. He’s got less than thirty minutes left.” She was talking in Standard—the universal language that most sentient races in the universe had at least a smattering of—but speaking so fast the words were coming out like bullets in her haste to explain. “Please, can’t you help us?” she begged. “Varin’s going to die if you don’t. And he can’t die—I love him!”

Baird made a decision.

“Fall in behind me,” he told the girl. “I’ll guide you to the fold in space that leads back to the Mother Ship.”

“But do you have slave chips there?” the girl asked frantically. “We need a replacement chip!”

Baird had never heard of “slave chips” in his life and had no fucking clue what they were but he wanted to ease her distress.

“Don’t worry—I’ll call ahead and have a doctor waiting,” he promised the little female. “Just follow me.” Then he tuned to a different channel and barked orders, putting his second in command in charge. “Watch the Blind,” he ordered. “The pilot of the ship I’m escorting said the “Hive” is after her, whatever the fuck that is. Don’t let anything else through.”

“Affirmative, Commander Baird,” his second, a Blood Kindred by the name of Yarron sent back. “We’re on it.”

“Good.” Baird switched comlink channels yet again, and asked to speak to his brother. “Sylvan, we’re gonna need your help. Have you ever heard of a ‘slave chip?’ Because the Kindred I’m bringing in to the Mother Ship needs a new one, whatever the Seven Hells it is…”

* * * * *

The Kindred ship led Brynn through a strange red gash in space and when she came out the other end, there was a massive, white ship towering in front of her.

“That’s the Kindred Mother Ship,” the Kindred warrior who had led her through explained. He had golden eyes and a voice that was gruff but kindly. “My brother Sylvan and another surgeon are waiting in the docking bay with a hover stretcher.”

“All right, thank you—I see it,” Brynn said. There was a vast area of the enormous ship where she could see right inside it—as though someone had peeled its smooth white skin away to show the inner workings. In the immense space she saw what looked like thousands of ships as well as a big empty area which she hoped was for landing.

“Just follow me in through the atmosphere bubble,” her savior said. “Smooth sailing from here—we’ll get your male fixed up in no time.”

Brynn gripped the steering mechanism so tightly her knuckles turned white. “All right,” she said. “But please tell everyone to stand out of the way. “I’ve only been taking piloting lessons for a little over three solar weeks and I’ve never done a landing before.”

* * * * *

“Who is this female you’re bringing us, Brother?” Sylvan asked as Baird jumped out of his ship and ran over to him.

“Don’t know—Princess somebody or other,” Baird growled. “But the male with her has got to be Kindred—either that or Havok but she says Kindred, so…” He shrugged, his shoulder rolling under his scarlet uniform shirt. “Look—here she comes now. Better stand back—she’s a new pilot and she’s not too sure about the landing procedure.”

Sylvan watched as the alien ship that had followed Baird in began a rather shaky descent into the docking bay. It was a sleek, silver thing as round as a coin and like nothing he had seen before.

“What was that you said about ‘slave chips’?” he asked his brother. “I wasn’t sure what you were talking about.”

“Beats the hell outta me too,” Baird growled. “All I know is she said his slave chip is expiring and he’s about to die because of it.”

“Slave chips are something I know about—yes I do, yes I do!” Yipper, the Tolleg surgeon came bounding up, his furry ears flapping. With his long face and big, liquid eyes, some humans said he looked like a cross between two Earth animals—a monkey and a dog. Regardless of how he looked, Yipper was one of the finest surgeons Sylvan had ever met and he was always glad to work with the little Tolleg.

“You know about slave chips?” Sylvan frowned down at him. “Were they something the Dark Kindred used?”

“Not the Dark Kindred, no. But some other races use them—yes they do, yes they do,” Yipper said. “They can be set to last a certain amount of time—from days to months to years. When they expire, the chip implant in the spine shuts down all biological functions—yes it does, yes it does.” He nodded gravely, his furry ears flapping again.

“Shuts down all biological functions?” Baird growled. “Is that a fancy way of saying it fuckin’ kills them?”

“I’m afraid it is, Commander Baird. Yes it is, yes it is.” Yipper’s long, furry face was grave.

“What can be done about it?” Sylvan asked as the silver ship finally touched down. “According to Baird, this male has less than thirty standard minutes to live if we can’t help him.”

“We need to replace the chip,” Yipper said. “Yes we do, yes we do. But…” His face grew sad—an expression that manifested most in his huge, liquid eyes—“puppy dog eyes,” Sylvan’s mate Sophia called them. “But I am afraid I do not have any slave chips. They were not part of the equipment I brought with me when I came to the Mother Ship. No they weren’t, no they weren’t.”

“Then…what are we gonna do? Baird demanded. “This poor bastard’s about to die and his little female is cryin’ her eyes out.”

“You feel for her, don’t you, Brother?” Sylvan put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Baird shrugged. “Just don’t like to see a female in pain—that’s all. Besides, Olivia would skin my hide if I didn’t do everything I could to help a lady in distress.”

Sylvan permitted himself a smile. He knew his brother well enough to know his mate’s urging wasn’t the only thing that drove Baird to help. Like all Kindred he worshiped the Goddess and revered all things female.

“We will see what we can do,” he said, looking significantly at both Baird and Yipper as the door of the silver alien craft opened. “And with the Goddess’s help, we’ll save this male, whoever he is. Even though he’s a stranger, if he’s Kindred, he’s our brother and we will treat him as such.”

A girl with long black hair and a tear-streaked face suddenly appeared in the doorway of the ship. She was wearing what looked like a male’s too-large dress shirt that ended at mid-thigh and not much else.

“Please,” she said in Standard. “Can you come help me? I can’t lift Varin and he can’t walk himself. The chip countdown has frozen him somehow. Please!”

“Coming,” Baird shouted, jogging over to her. Sylvan and Yipper followed, leading a floating hover-stretcher behind them.

Sylvan sent a quick prayer skyward. Please Goddess, let us be able to help. And then he sent a thought message through his link to his mate, Sophia.

“Talana, I have a female in need of comfort in the docking bay. Yipper and I are going to examine and possibly operate on her male. Can you come?”

“Of course—the twins are at dayschool right now so I’ll be right over,” Sophia sent back promptly.

“Thank you. Come soon. Oh, and ask Olivia to come too and bring a shot or a capsule of translation bacteria. I think this female only speaks Standard,” Sylvan sent back.

“Got it—be there soon!” His mate sent him the equivalent of a mental kiss and Sylvan knew she was on her way. Looking at the tearful, panicked face of the girl with the long black hair, he hoped she hurried.

Chapter Thirty-two

“Do you think he’ll be all right? Do you think your physicians can help him?” Brynn looked anxiously back and forth between the two nice girls who had come to sit with her while Varin was examined. They looked very alike—so much that they must be sisters, she thought. Though one of them had brown hair and green eyes and the other had blonde hair and gray eyes, their faces were so similar as to be almost indistinguishable.

“I’m sure he will,” said Olivia, the blonde haired girl.

“My husband, Sylvan is the best doctor on the ship,” the brown haired girl, Sophia said, smiling at her. “He’ll do everything in his power to save your guy, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Brynn smiled tremulously at both of them. At first she hadn’t been able to understand a word they said. Then Olivia had given her a large pink capsule to swallow with some water. After a few moments, their words had become clear to her and now Brynn found it easy to talk to them. They were sitting in a waiting area outside the place where the blond doctor and the little animal creature whom she had been assured was also a doctor were operating on Varin.

“So tell us more about Varin,” Sophia urged her. “What kind of Kindred is he?”

Brynn shook her head.

“I don’t know and neither does he. He was sold as a slave to my father, the King of Galen Prime, when he was only seven cycles old and I was just a baby. My father bought him to become my personal bodyguard—they gave him a drop of my blood and he was bonded to me. After that, he had dreams and visions of me and I…” She bit her lip. “I dreamed of him too, although I didn’t realize it until I saw him in person.”

“It sounds like some kind of early dream-sharing thing,” Olivia said thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of Kindred bonding or dream-sharing so early though.”

“Dream sharing usually happens just a few weeks or months before you meet your guy in person,” Sophia added helpfully. “The fact that the two of you dreamed of each other for years and years like that is just amazing.”

“It’s Varin who’s amazing,” Brynn whispered. “He’s sheltered and protected me…he even shot off his own hand to come rescue me when I was trapped in the Hive.”

“He did?” Olivia’s lovely eyes widened. “Wow—if I didn’t know he was Kindred before, that right there would convince me.”

“It sounds like something a Kindred warrior would do to save the woman he loves,” Sophia agreed. “They’re incredibly devoted to their females.”

“Varin has been devoted to me since they bonded him to me at age seven,” Brynn agreed. “But…but he says he loves me and not just because of the bond.”

“So he was your slave—your bodyguard—but you fell for him anyway?” Olivia raised an eyebrow. “How did that go over with your mom and dad, the king and queen?”

“They sold me—sold me to Sovereign X'izith of the Hive,” Brynn said harshly. She swallowed and her throat gave a dry click. “He…wanted to implant me with his grubs. But Varin came and rescued me before he could…”

“Your parents sold you to a guy who wanted to put grubs in you?” Sophia frowned. “I’m not sure if the translations bacteria is quite doing its job.”

“You heard me correctly,” Brynn said quietly. “He is an evil being—he looks like a giant insect and he has this long, sharp breeding barb that he…” She shook her head, unable to finish.

“My goodness, honey—it sounds like you’ve really been through the wringer!” Olivia exclaimed.

Sophia put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry you had such an awful time. But you’re safe here with us. The Kindred protect their own.”

“Thank you.” Brynn gave the two girls a small, grateful smile. How different they were from the catty, gossiping ladies in waiting she’d had on Galen Prime! Of course, all of the girls who had been mean to her were probably decomposing in that awful pit in the center of the Hive or else filled with grubs right now…

The thought made her shiver and she tried to push it away. But no matter how hard she tried not to think of the Hive, she kept hearing the high, buzzing voice of Sovereign X'izith hissing that nothing but a “deep breeding” would ease her need…

“Hello ladies, I’m afraid I need to speak to our new friend alone for a moment.”

Brynn’s head jerked up.

The physician with spiky blond hair and pale blue eyes was standing in front of her with a grave look on his face.

“All right then.” Olivia and Sophia started to get up but Brynn reached for them instinctively.

“Please,” she said, clasping both their hands. “Please, don’t leave me! If…if the worst has happened, I don’t want to be alone.”

At once the two girls sat down again on either side of her.

“Of course we won’t leave you, sweetie!” Sophia pressed her hand comfortingly and Olivia put an arm around her and squeezed.

“We’re right here for you, Brynnalla.”

“Call me Brynn, please.” Brynn tried to smile at them. “It…it’s what my friends call me.”

“Brynn then,” Olivia said decisively. “Brynn, we’re right here with you.” She looked up at the blond Kindred doctor. “All right, Sylvan—go ahead. What happened in the OR?”

He took a deep breath and Brynn saw that his pale blue eyes were grave.

“We managed to stop the chip countdown—momentarily. But it will start back up again if we don’t do something.”

“Can’t…can’t you just replace his chip?” Brynn asked tremulously. “That’s all he needs is just a new chip.”

Sylvan shook his head. “Unfortunately, we don’t have any slave chips aboard the Mother Ships. We find the practice of slavery abhorrent and wrong.”

“Sylvan, you’re going to make her feel bad!” Sophia exclaimed. “Varin was her slave, you know—but then she fell in love with him.”

“Because her parents bonded him to her when she was just a baby,” Olivia put in.

“Really?” Sylvan frowned thoughtfully. “That is most interesting. I’d like to hear more about it later but for now, we have a big problem to solve—and a decision to make.”

“What decision?” Brynn’s mouth was so dry she could barely speak. “Will he live? Can you save him? What can you do if you don’t have a replacement chip on hand?”

“We can take the chip mechanism itself out. Yes we can, yes we can.” The little animal surgeon Olivia had told her was called a Tolleg suddenly came bounding out. “I have done the procedure myself many times in the past. Yes, I have, yes, I have.”

“Well, then do that!” Brynn exclaimed. “That’s perfect—then we would never have to worry about getting him another chip again!”

“There can be…complications,” the blond doctor called Sylvan said cautiously.

“What complications?” Brynn asked anxiously.

“When dealing with the spine, there is, of course, always the risk of paralysis,” Sylvan said. “Though having an experienced surgeon who has done the procedure before helps.” He nodded at the little Tolleg who nodded back eagerly.

“Well, if it’s a choice between dying and taking a chance, I think Varin would rather take the chance,” Brynn said. “He wouldn’t…wouldn’t want to leave me.” Her throat was tight as she spoke but she managed to hold back the tears that threatened.

“Unfortunately, that’s not the only possible complication,” Sylvan said, frowning. “There is a chance that removing the chip mechanism can affect the memories because such mechanisms are often equipped with a memory blocker—to keep a slave from remembering his former life and wanting to go back to it.”

“Sometimes removing the mechanism can create a type of amnesia—it erases the memories that were made after it was first implanted. Yes it does, yes it does.” The Tolleg surgeon nodded his head solemnly.

“But…” Brynn looked back and forth between the two doctors. “But my father bought Varin to be my slave when he was only seven cycles old. Are you saying that removing the chip mechanism will wipe his mind from everything he’s learned…everyone he’s known from that point on? He…he might forget his whole life? Forget me?”

“We hope not,” Sylvan said. “But we have to warn you that it’s a possibility.”

“I have never seen this particular brand of chip before, no I haven’t, no I haven’t,” the little Tolleg surgeon put in. “So I am unsure if it contains a memory block or not.”

“That sounds like a terrible risk to take,” Brynn whispered. “But…what is the alternative?”

“Death, I’m afraid.” Sylvan gave her a sympathetic look. “The countdown can’t be stopped forever—eventually it will restart itself and kill Varin if the chip is not replaced or if the mechanism isn’t removed completely.”

“Then remove it,” Brynn said through numb lips. “I guess we’ll just have to take the chance.”

“It’ll be all right, honey.” Olivia pressed her hand gently. “I mean, you two are bonded, right?”

Brynn thought of the blood-bond that bound Varin to her.

“Well…yes.”

“Then the bond should lead him back to you,” Sophia said firmly. “Even if he loses his memory. Nothing but death can break a Kindred warrior’s bond to his chosen female.”

Her words made Brynn feel somewhat better.

“Thank you.” She gave Sophia a tremulous smile. “Then maybe it will be all right.”

“Yipper and I will do everything in our power to make sure your mate comes through the operation successfully,” Sylvan promised.

“And I can fix his hand too—yes I can, yes I can!” the little Tolleg said excitedly.

“Can you?” Brynn exclaimed. “That would be wonderful.”

“Replacement parts are kind of Yipper’s specialty,” Olivia said, grinning. “The only thing is, you want to make sure he gives your guy a regular hand—not something crazy and bionic that can punch through solid steel.”

“There is nothing wrong with enhancements, no there isn’t, no there isn’t,” Yipper said with dignity. “But I promise to be circumspect in choosing the correct prosthetic. Your male will not even be able to tell the replacement from the hand he lost.”

“All right, thank you.” Brynn nodded and watched as the two doctors turned and went back to do the delicate and dangerous surgery on the male she loved.

She just hoped that when he woke up from the surgery, Varin wouldn’t have lost his memory…or his feelings for her.

Chapter Thirty-three

Bereth Atore opened his eyes to see a lovely but unfamiliar face bending over him.

“Varin?” said the female with large gray eyes and silky black hair. “Varin can you hear me? Are you all right?”

Bereth frowned—she must have mistaken him for someone else.

“Varin,” she said again. “It’s me, Brynn. How do you feel?”

He cleared his throat and shook his head.

“I’m sorry but…do I know you?”

His question seemed to upset her somehow because she put her hand over her mouth and backed away from him, shaking her head.

“No,” she whispered. “Oh, no…”

“It’s all right.” A tall, blond-haired male put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right, Brynn—give him time.”

“Give me time to what?” Bereth demanded. “Who are you people? And where are my mother and father? They—oh!”

He grasped the side of his head as a spike of pain pierced through it. A vision flashed across his mind’s eye—his father grasping at a poison dart planted deep in his heart and his mother with her throat cut—a red gash like a ghastly grin opened just under her chin. The crimson blood was pouring out but she was still reaching for Bereth, still trying to scream for him even as the bad males took him away…

“Gods!” he gasped and put his head in his hands. “Dead. They’re dead, aren’t they?”

“I…I think they are,” the girl said, coming forward again. “I think I heard my father talking about it once. He said the slavers killed your parents when they took you away to sell you.”

“Sell me?” He frowned, still making an effort to push the awful vision of his parents’ death out of his mind. He somehow knew it had happened a long time ago—that he was grown now and their death had been when he was only a child. But that didn’t make the pain of losing them in such an awful way any less.

“Yes, the slavers sold you to my father—the king of Galen Prime,” the black-haired girl told him. “You were my personal slave—my bodyguard. Don’t you remember?”

“Look, you’re very beautiful but I’m no one’s slave,” Bereth growled.

“But…but my parents gave you a drop of my blood when I was just a baby,” she protested. “That bound you to me. That’s why my father named you Varin. It means ‘Bound One’ in the ancient language of our planet.”

Bereth frowned at her. “My father told me that when he found the right female for me to be mated to, she and I would exchange drops of blood and be bonded. Did you drink my blood too?”

“Well…no.” The girl bit her lip, her gray eyes going wide. “I was only a baby. But you had mine.”

“If you didn’t have mine as well, then we’re not bonded,” Bereth said decisively. He was a little sorry about that—she was a very beautiful female and he did feel a certain tug in her direction. But he didn’t remember anything she was talking about and he certainly had no desire to be anyone’s slave—no matter how pretty she was.

“But…” The girl’s lush lower lip trembled. “But you said you loved me! You even blasted off your own left hand to come rescue me from the Hive!”

“I what?” Bereth frowned and looked at his left hand. It appeared to be perfectly normal—perfectly intact. He flexed it and touched each fingertip to his thumb in turn. Was the girl crazy? “It seems fine now,” he said, not even trying to keep the skepticism out of his voice. “My hand is perfectly normal.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t when the Kindred took us in,” the girl insisted. “Varin—”

“Stop calling me that,” he growled, beginning to feel really irritated. “My name is Bereth. Bereth Atore, son of Tagan Atore of the Vision Kindred. I don’t know where I am or how I got here but I do know my own Goddess damned name!”

“Fine.” The girl took a deep breath, her small but shapely breasts heaving under the strange, too-large garment she wore. “Fine, I’ll call you Bereth if you like. But please—you have to try and remember our past together!”

Suddenly, Bereth was angry. Why was she saying all these crazy things? Insisting these obvious lies were true?

“You mean the past where I was your slave?” he snapped at her. “Where I was so in love with you I shot off my own hand for you?” He held his perfectly intact hand up for inspection.

“It was surgically repaired,” said the blond male, but Bereth paid him no attention.

“I’m not who you fucking think I am,” he growled at the girl. “So stop saying all these wild things that can’t possibly be true!”

“Look at your chest,” she whispered and pointed to the left side of his chest, right over his heart. “Look at what’s written there.”

Bereth looked down at his left pec…and frowned. There, written in curving, scripted letters were the words, Property of Brynnalla of Galen.

For a moment he thought he felt a memory flickering like a tiny flame, far back in his mind.

Holding still…Gods, it hurts! But I must not move…don’t want the artist to smear her name…the name of the one so precious to me…

Then it was gone again, so completely he doubted its very existence in the first place.

“No,” he said, looking down at himself. “No, I don’t care if you inked your fucking name on me while I was out, that still doesn’t make me your slave.”

“I never said you were my slave now,” she protested. “We’re past all that—we have been for ages. Please, Varin…” She took a step closer and held out her hands to him appealingly. “I love you. And you…you said you loved me too.”

“How can I love you,” he asked blankly. “When I don’t even know you?”

Then he threw back the covers of the bed he was in and stood up. He was wearing a ridiculous gown and from the breeze he felt on his backside, there was nothing on underneath it. He wondered what these crazy people had done with his fucking clothes.

“Wait a minute!” The blond male came forward with one hand out. “You need to be careful, Varin. You’ve just undergone a very delicate spinal surgery.”

“I’m fine,” Bereth snarled. “And for the last time the name is Bereth. Now why don’t you people just leave me the fuck alone?”

And with that, he stalked out of the room, leaving the girl with the long, black hair behind him, crying.

* * * * *

“He doesn’t know me! He can’t remember me at all.”

Brynn looked at her new friends with wide, tearful eyes. She had come to Sophia’s suite on the Mother Ship because she had to talk—had to get some of the pain she was feeling off her chest. They were all sitting on the big couch in Sophia’s living area and Brynn was pouring out her heart.

“I thought you said the bond between us would hold us together and help him remember me,” she whispered. “But it’s been a week and I’m still a stranger to him.”

“I’m so sorry, hon.” Sophia looked truly distressed. “I thought it would.”

“I thought so too,” said Olivia, who had been over visiting her sister when Brynn knocked at Sophia’s door. “How long were the two of you bonded before the surgery?”

“Well…all my life.” Brynn ran a hand through her long, black hair distractedly. “My father gave Varin a drop of my blood when I was just an infant—only a few days old. We’ve been bonded ever since.”

She saw Sophia and Olivia exchange a glance and Olivia said, “Uh-oh,” in a low voice.

“What?” Brynn looked at them wildly. “What’s wrong?”

“Brynn, honey…” Sophia laid a hand on her knee. “When Liv and I asked if you were bonded to Varin, we didn’t mean by a little drop of blood—although I understand that’s how the Vision Kindred form their preliminary bonds. At least that’s what Sylvan says—he’s been doing some research.”

“What…what did you mean, then? If the blood-bond doesn’t count, what—”

“What we were asking was if you and Varin had bonded,” Olivia said. “You know—if the two of you had had bonding sex?”

“Bonding sex?” Brynn looked back and forth between them, completely mystified. “What is that?”

“Well…” Sophia blew out a breath, obviously trying to think how to explain. “It’s different for every kind of Kindred. For instance with Sylvan, because he’s a Blood Kindred, he had to bite me while he was, you know, making love to me.”

“And my husband Baird—the one who first guided you to the Mother Ship—is a Beast Kindred,” Olivia put in. “Beast Kindred have this thing called a, uh, mating fist at the base of their shafts. Baird had to get his, um, all the way inside me when we first made love.” She blushed a little and cleared her throat. “Anyway, it’s different with different Kindred.”

“I guess what we’re asking is if you’ve made love in that special way that binds the two of you together?” Sophia said.

Brynn felt her heart sink. “No,” she whispered. “No, we haven’t actually made love. I…I was deflowered in a very painful way to suit the needs of Sovereign X'izith when he bought me from my parents. After that I never…” She took a deep breath. “Never wanted anything inside me there ever again. And Varin…he understood that.”

“Oh dear…” Sophia looked concerned. “So…you’re still a virgin?”

“I have no maiden barrier,” Brynn said dully. “But no male’s shaft has completely breached my channel either.”

She thought of the nightmares, which had started up again in the past few nights. Thought of the hissing voice of X'izith bidding her to come and be filled with his barb…of the burning, empty ache which was worse than ever inside her.

She desperately longed for the sweet relief of Varin’s seed inside her. But now that Varin didn’t even know her, how could she ask him to help her ease the awful need?

They lived in the same suite—it was true. He had even warmed to her, at least a little, and had apologized in a gruff and stilted way for the way he’d acted when he first woke from his surgery. But he didn’t know her and with every day that went by, Brynn’s hope that he might regain his memories of her and the love they had shared grew less and less.

“So you were never really bonded in the first place,” Olivia said, breaking her train of thought.

“Yes, we were!” Brynn insisted. “He dreamed of me and I dreamed of him. He even had visions of me—even when he wasn’t dreaming!”

Sophia nodded. “Yes, Sylvan said that’s why they’re called the Vision Kindred—because they start dream sharing so early after they and their intended mate each get a drop of the other’s blood. And they have visions of each other right up until they complete their bond.”

“Well maybe that’s it then—maybe you need to complete the bond,” Olivia said. “Can you get him to make love to you?”

“But Liv…she said she had a, uh, ‘painful deflowering,’” Sophia said in a low voice. “That sounds…kind of traumatic. Don’t you think?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Olivia bit her lip. “I’m so sorry, Brynn. That was insensitive of me.”

“It’s all right,” Brynn said. “I appreciate any insights you have—no matter what they are. Do…do you think making love would help? Having what you called ‘bonding sex?’”

“Well, bonding sex is a big deal,” Sophia said cautiously. “And it does tend to bring estranged couples back together sometimes.”

“Only we don’t know what the Vision Kindred’s version of bonding sex is,” Olivia pointed out. “Or did Sylvan find that out too while he was doing research?”

Sophia shook her head. “I don’t think so. There wasn’t much to go on. The Vision Kindred—at least the ones on this side of the Blind—have been extinct for hundreds of years. They, uh…” She coughed and looked at Brynn apologetically. “They died out because slavers and merchants kept kidnapping their children—their sons—to bond them to females of wealth and noble birth to act as bodyguards.”

“Which is exactly what happened to Varin,” Brynn said dully. “The slavers killed his parents and sold him to my father so he could spend his whole life guarding me.” She gave a little sob. “Before this happened, when we finally admitted our love, I told him I was afraid he only loved me because he’d been forced to love me. But he said…he said…” Scalding tears pressed at her eyelids and she could barely hold them back. “He said he fell in love with me on his own—because I was different from all the other ladies at Court. He said…he said nothing could ever make him stop loving me.”

And then she couldn’t hold back the sobs any longer. Burying her face in her hands, she lost herself in misery.

Sophia and Olivia made sympathetic murmurs and put their arms around her, hugging her gently as she cried. Brynn was very grateful for the support and caring of her new friends but nothing could assuage the loss inside her. Nothing could erase the bitter taste of the love she’d had so briefly—the love that had been snatched from her before she could even begin to understand or appreciate what she had.

At last she felt she had cried herself out. Wiping her eyes with a soft cloth Sophia had given her, she straightened up and gave a tremulous sigh.

“Thank you,” she whispered to both her friends. “I’m sorry I cried all over you. I just…I just miss Varin so much.”

“Of course you do, sweetie,” Olivia said gently. “And I know what you’re going through—well, a little bit, anyway.”

Brynn looked at her with interest. “You do?”

Olivia nodded. “Yes, it’s a long story but when I was first getting together with Baird, he sacrificed himself for me to a very bad guy. He…” Olivia cleared her throat and swiped at her eyes. “He gave himself in my stead, even knowing he was going to be tortured. And when he came back, well—he was nearly catatonic. I though he would never be himself again.”

“How did you bring him back?” Brynn asked eagerly.

“Well…by bonding sex.” Olivia shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry, especially since you said you don’t want to do that but—”

“No, it’s all right.” Brynn lifted her chin. “I…I need to consider every option.”

“Just think about it for now,” Sophia said. “Don’t jump into anything too quickly.”

“You never know—Varin’s memory might come back,” Olivia said hopefully. “Yipper said it happens sometimes.”

“Yes, but he also said sometimes the memory never comes back.” Brynn sighed. “But whether he remembers me or not, I still love Varin. Maybe…maybe we could start again.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sophia said encouragingly. “You could start from scratch—fall in love all over again. Why not?”

Why not indeed? Brynn considered it. It hurt her heart deeply to think of losing so many years of dreams and visions—so many tiny things that had linked them together ever since she was a baby. But if the only way to have Varin in her life was to start from the beginning, well, she told herself, she was willing.

“That’s what I’ll do,” she said, lifting her chin. “I’ll just…get him to fall in love with me all over again.”

“You can do it,” Olivia said, smiling. “You’re gorgeous and so delicate. It’s easy to see you were a princess in your former life.”

“Oh, I look nothing like the other ladies at the Court,” Brynn protested. “But thank you so much for your kind words.” She sighed and stood up. “Well…I need to go see if Varin—I mean Bereth—is home yet.”

“Is he still practicing with Baird?” Sophia asked. “Working on his piloting? I know they were training more warriors than ever before—preparing in case any more of those awful Hive things come through the Blind. Which they haven’t yet, thank goodness.”

“Yes, he’s piloting.” Brynn made a wry face. “He can’t remember me but somehow he can remember how to fly a ship.”

“Well that’s a good thing though—that he remembers his old skills,” Olivia pointed out. “Maybe more memories will follow.”

“From your lips to the Goddess’s ear,” Brynn murmured. “I’d better go now.”

“Take care, Brynn.” Olivia and Sophia both hugged her again. “And come back if you need to talk some more.”

“Thank you,” Brynn said gratefully. But inside, she knew she was done talking—it was time to do something. She needed to make Varin—Bereth—see that they belonged together and if that meant “starting from scratch” as her new friends had called it, well, that was what she would do.

And she had to do it soon—before her nightmares became completely unbearable. She wished for the thousandth time that she could ask Varin for some help—some relief—to ease the empty ache inside her.

But though she had told him much about their past together, she had been too shy to explain the actual effects of the strange nightmares on her…or how he had helped her combat them.

After all, she couldn’t just go up to him and say, “These horrible nightmares are driving me insane with lust and I need your cream inside me.” Varin was like a stranger now and that was definitely not something one said to a stranger.

But maybe I can broach the subject tonight at dinner, in a round about way, she thought. That’s it—I get the ingredients to make a meal like the kind we used to eat on Galen. That will put him in a good mood and he’ll see that I’m the female for him. And once we’re talking and connecting like we used to, I bring up the nightmares and hint that he used to help me with them. Then he’ll ask me how and one thing will lead to another and…

And what? She wasn’t quite sure, to be honest. The idea of being penetrated—fully penetrated—still scared her. But maybe it was something to consider.

For now, though, she had a lot to do to get ready before he came home from a long day of piloting. She hurried off down the hallway, already planning her menu…and what she would say as they ate.

* * * * *

Sophia sighed as she shut the door on Brynn’s small, determined form. She turned to her sister and saw that Olivia had the same expression that Sophie felt on her own face.

“Poor girl!” they said at the same time.

It usually made Sophia laugh when she and her twin said the same thing at the same time or completed each other’s sentences but this time it just made her sad. She sighed.

Liv put a hand on her hip.

“Tell the truth, womb mate—does Brynn have a shot of getting her guy back?”

“Well, anything is possible, but…”

“But what?” Liv demanded. “I know you said Sylvan was doing some research into the Vision Kindred but I have an idea you’ve been doing a fair amount of research yourself.”

“I did read over his shoulder a lot,” Sophia admitted. “I’m just really worried about Brynn. I feel so bad for her.”

“Why do you feel bad? What did you find out?” Olivia asked, sitting back on the couch.

Sophie sighed and came back to sit by her sister.

“It’s just…the blood-bond thing the Vision Kindred do when they’re kids is really, really important for them in order to be able to connect with their mate,” she said. “Sylvan says he’s never seen any other kind of Kindred where blood is so vital. Well, other than Blood Kindred of course.”

“It’s that important?” Liv asked.

Sophie nodded. “The Vision Kindred are even supposed to be able to heal their mates by giving them their blood—and you know only Blood Kindred do that.”

“So now that the blood-bond Varin had to Brynn has been erased there’s no hope for them?” Liv asked. “I can’t believe that!”

“I don’t want to believe it either,” Sophie said unhappily. “But…well…” She picked up the tea cup she’d been drinking from when Brynn had come over and took a sip—it was cold.

“But what? Stop stalling, Sophie.” Liv frowned.

“Well, it appears—at least according to the literature Sylvan found—that if a blood-bond isn’t completed in childhood, the chances of forming an actual bond later are almost zero,” Sophie looked down at her cold tea. “And you know how Brynn told us that Varin got a drop of her blood but she never got of drop of his?”

Olivia gave a long, low whistle.

“That’s bad.”

“Really bad,” Sophia agreed. “Sylvan says he doesn’t even know how Brynn was able to dream share with Varin when she never got a drop of his blood in the first place.”

“She told me that her parents didn’t even know she was dream sharing with him,” Liv said thoughtfully. “That they thought the bond was strictly one-way. He was supposed to live his whole life pining for her and protecting her while she was barely supposed to know he existed.”

“But they fell in love anyway,” Sophie pointed out. “And they dream-shared anyway. See—that’s why I didn’t want to tell her everything Sylvan found about the whole blood-bonding thing. Because they found their way together once—even though it was supposed to be completely impossible. I mean—the high-born Princess falling for her loyal but lowly slave bodyguard? How romantic and forbidden is that?”

“Very,” Liv agreed. “So you’re thinking—hoping—they’ll find a way to be together again?”

“I believe the Goddess puts people together for a reason,” Sophie said firmly. “And there’s no way I’m going to discourage Brynn from trying to get her man back.”

“I understand.” Liv sighed. “I just hope we haven’t given her false hope.”

“Did you have false hope?” Sophia asked her bluntly. “When you brought Baird back—out of that catatonic state he was in after the AllFather did those horrible things to him?”

“No.” Olivia lifted her chin. “No, you’re right. We should just be there for Brynn and support her, no matter what. Whether she gets Varin to love her again or…”

“Or not,” Sophia ended in a low voice. She thought of their new friend and sent a silent prayer to the Goddess. But she couldn’t stop thinking of what Sylvan had said when she discussed the matter with him.

“It’s not just a ritual—this early blood-bonding the Vision Kindred do, Talana,” he’d told her. “It’s a biological need. And without it, they cannot form a deep or lasting connection to a female. It’s as simple as that.”

But surely there was a way around the half-formed blood-bond. Wasn’t there?

For Brynn’s sake, Sophie hoped so.

Chapter Thirty-four

“Um…this is delicious. Thank you for making it.” Bereth pushed the food around on his plate and tried to smile at the hopeful face across the table.

“I’m glad you like it. Of course, they don’t have any Galen Prime cuisine here but I thought this was pretty close.” Brynn nodded at her own plate, where the stew she’d labored over for hours had barely been touched.

“Um…well it’s good. Really good.”

Bereth was trying to be nice but he couldn’t help feeling that the stilted Last Meal conversation they were having was making Brynn more unhappy by the minute.

What was he supposed to do though, damn it? He’d apologized for being an ass when he first woke up from surgery and he was living with her in one of the Mother Ship’s guest suites while they tried to figure out what to do next. True, they slept in separate rooms but he was still eating First Meal and Last Meal with her and spending his free time here with her instead of living at the Single Male’s quarter, which was where he probably belonged.

But no matter how hard he tried, he felt like something was missing. Some vital connection—some spark that just wasn’t there somehow—was needed to ignite the air between them. But no spark was forthcoming and honestly, Bereth was beginning to doubt it ever would.

He tried dutifully, though. He listened to Brynn describe the life she said they’d had together—a life he couldn’t remember. She told him about grand galas at the Galen Prime Court which neither one of them liked. She explained how he had stood guard outside her room and they had talked—sometimes long into the night. How he had gone into the Hive alone to save her…had protected her and counseled her and taught her and loved her…

Why can’t I feel love for her now? What’s wrong with me? he asked himself. She was so beautiful—hell, fucking gorgeous to be honest. And she was clearly crazy about him. But again…there was something missing. Something that had been lost he couldn’t seem to get back.

“Varin? I mean, Bereth,” she hastily corrected herself.

“Yes?” He looked up from his half-eaten stew.

“I…do you remember how I told you about the Hive and…and the bad dreams I had of what…what was done to me there?”

“Uh…yes I guess so,” he muttered. “What of it?”

“Well, I…I mean…” Her cheeks got extremely pink all of a sudden and her scent began to heat up as well.

Bereth frowned. Why would nightmares make her hot?

“Yes?” he asked, beginning to get irritated. “What is it, Brynnalla?”

“I…you…” She shook her head and looked away. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

For a moment he seemed to see a glimpse of her, completely bare for him, sitting astride him and pressing the head of his shaft to the heated slit between her legs.

But no…He shook himself mentally. Brynnalla was much too prim to ever do such a thing. He pushed the strange mental image aside impatiently and, almost before he rejected it, it was gone.

Bereth frowned. Every once in a while he got a flash like this one—of the past she talked about—often so brief he wondered if he was imagining it. A glimpse of the short, stone hallway her room in the palace had been on, for instance. Or a picture of her in a low-cut ball gown that showed her pale flesh to perfection.

But the moment he tried to grab for any of these pictures, they immediately faded away, making him feel more empty than before.

I should tell her it’s over, he thought, watching as Brynn got up to clear the stew plates. Living like this isn’t fair to her—to either of us.

But somehow, as he got up to help her with the dishes, he couldn’t say the words that would set them both free of each other and their past. Something stopped him, though he didn’t understand what.

One more night, he told himself. I’ll give it one more night before I tell her.

* * * * *

“Well…good night.” Brynn stood in the doorway of her sleeping chamber and looked wistfully at the big Kindred. Varin was dressed in the manner of the other Kindred aboard the Mother Ship—with black leather flight pants, tall black boots, and a dark green uniform shirt which brought out his bronze eyes vividly. The shirt covered his broad chest, hiding the place where her name was written over his heart.

Brynn wished she could see it—wished she could hear him say he wore it with pride just one more time. But he seemed hardly to give it a thought—it was like a mark from another life—a scar he didn’t remember getting but now had to live with.

“Sleep well, Brynnalla.” Bereth nodded at her genially enough. But there was no affection in his voice. No longing as she’d heard in his deep tones so many times before. It felt like forever since he’d called her “Princess” or “little one.” She couldn’t help wondering if he would ever call her those sweet nicknames again. She would even welcome him calling her “Mistress” if only it meant that he remembered some small part of the life they’d shared before his memory was wiped.

But he only nodded again and closed the door to his own sleep chamber with finality, leaving Brynn to do the same.

She sighed and walked over to her bed and sat down on the corner of the soft mattress across from the 3-D viewer. Goddess above, what was she going to do?

She’d said many brave words about getting Varin—no, Bereth, she reminded herself—to fall in love with her all over again. She’d tried reminding him of the past by telling him the things they had done, the topics they had talked about…had tried describing the palace and the Arena where he had fought…had even cooked a meal as close to Galen cuisine as she could get, thinking that maybe she could jar his memory through taste and smell… but nothing seemed to be working.

Well, you haven’t tried everything yet, whispered a little voice in her head. You haven’t tried what Olivia said worked on Baird.

Brynn bit her lip and looked down at her hands, then up at the uncertain girl in the 3-D viewer. Wide, frightened-looking gray eyes stared back at her. For so long she’d been avoiding the idea of taking anything inside her—ever since her deflowering she had feared it. And yet…the awful dreams she had every night made her long for it too. Maybe it was time to take her courage in both hands and give in to the longing.

If Varin could remember her, she thought, she would have given in to it long ago. The empty aching inside her was growing too great to ignore. Something would have to be done about it.

But was this what she should do? Should she ask a male who didn’t remember her to fill her? To make love to her? To bond with her? What if the bonding took place and he still didn’t remember her? Would they be bound together forever as strangers? How much would Varin—no, he wanted to be called Bereth—resent that? Resent her?

Brynn had no answers—only questions—but she didn’t know what else to do. Resolutely, she lifted her chin. She had to try.

I tried tonight though, she thought. Tried to tell him about the dreams and the way he’d helped me in the past but I didn’t get anywhere.

Maybe she hadn’t been sufficiently prepared, though. Maybe what she needed to do was “psych herself up” as she’d heard Olivia said when she was facing a difficult challenge.

Tomorrow night, she promised herself. I’ll go get some of those revealing clothes the Earth girls wear to tempt their males here. And then I’ll…

What? Seduce him? Beg him to take her? Brynn wasn’t quite sure. But maybe if she looked alluring enough, she wouldn’t have to ask. Maybe he would just take her on his own.

She thought of his wide, thick shaft…of how long he was and how hard he got when he was aroused. She thought of that massive length sliding into her, breaching not just her entrance but thrusting deep to fill her completely.

The thought made her shiver with fear…but also with need. The nightmares were getting bad again. So bad she could barely sleep some nights.

Please, she thought as she got into her night clothes—a long silky white gown that hung to her mid thighs. Please, no bad dreams tonight. Let me dream instead of how to win back Varin—of how to bring him back to me.

She settled into the too-big, too-empty bed feeling small and cold and sad. Closing her eyes, she tried to think of how she would seduce the big Kindred, how she would bring him back to her once and for all…

* * * * *

“It is time. Is all in readiness?” Sovereign X'izith hissed at his specially designated worker.

“Indeed, my Sovereign. You can see for yourself.”

The worker swept four chitinous arms outward, indicating the long, low tunnel that had been dug in the cold, dry, gray dirt of the Earth’s moon. It was protected by an atmosphere bubble which had been camouflaged with more of the gray dirt until it resembled nothing more than a tiny hump in the bottom of the dark crater where his personal ship had settled.

X'izith clicked his mandibles in satisfaction when he considered how easily he had slipped past the Kindred security and set up a temporary base right under their very noses. The Kindred Mother Ship orbited the Earth’s moon, but stayed mostly on the bright side of the natural satellite. X'izith, his ship in stealth mode, had created a controlled and stable worm hole—just big enough to get past the barricade the Kindred had at the Blind. Then he had landed in one of the permanently shadowed craters at the moon’s south pole—a spot which never saw the light of the Earth’s sun.

The temperatures in his temporary base were some of the coldest in the little solar system—many hundreds of degrees below the freezing point. But X'izith didn’t mind that. His exoskeleton made him largely impervious to both heat and cold and his workers were the same. They could stand almost any extremity of temperature, so erecting a small atmosphere dome and building the tunnel had posed no difficulty.

Of course, the flesher female was much more delicate and so he’d had to import some heat-givers—workers that generated heat from their abdomens via the thermo-dynamic workings of their guts. They hung along the walls of the tunnel at intervals, their bloated lower bodies glowing faintly as they radiated a feverish heat and humidity into the cold, dry tunnel. The effect was quite homey—for one who had been raised in the Hive.

Oh yes, X'izith reflected with satisfaction. His little Breeding Queen would be quite comfortable when she finally answered his call.

It would not be long now, before he saw her. Of that, he felt certain. The Blood Honey continued to work on her and he had seen how the Kindred bodyguard, who had once professed to love her, was now quite indifferent. Without him to interfere and help to quench her cravings, her need would reach a fever pitch.

She would be driven mad if she wasn’t penetrated soon. And as the distance between them had decreased, his influence over the little flesher female had increased. She was his to command—his to control—and he was tired of waiting. His newly regrown barb itched to stab between her thighs—to sink into her warm, moist heat and implant the royal grubs.

“You may go,” X'izith told the worker. “Go and take everyone with you—I want time alone with my new Queen.”

“But my Sovereign…the danger…if the Kindred comes after her.”

“He will not. He has no interest in her—I tell you, I have seen it and I know it is so,” X'izith hissed. “Now, go!”

Bowing and grooming compulsively, the worker skittered away. Soon the passage and the honeymoon breeding chamber were clear of all save X'izith and the heat-givers.

It was time.

X'izith closed his eyes and reached with his mind, reaching across the space that separated them, invading her mind, filling her dreams as he would soon fill the channel between her thighs.

“Come to me, my Queen,” he hissed as he flexed the long, sharp barb between his legs. “Come and be filled with my barb…my royal grubs. You know you must be filled…you feel the fire inside you burning, threatening to consume you with need. You feel the urgent desire to be filled…you cannot resist any longer. Come to me now…I order you!”

* * * * *

Brynn woke in a cold sweat, a scream on her lips and a fire between her thighs. Now, she had to go now! She ached inside—she hurt with the need to be filled.

In a kind of trance she got out of bed. Without bothering to change clothes, she slipped out of the guest suite she shared with Varin and walked quietly and quickly down the mostly empty hallway. There were a few questioning glances in her direction but if anyone aboard the huge ship wondered why she was wandering the corridors at night dressed only in her night clothes, they didn’t ask. Brynn was allowed to pass unmolested until she reached the docking bay.

There one of the huge Kindred guards stopped her.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he said respectfully. “But this area is off limits to civilians unless you have your Kindred mate with you or a special dispensation from the High Council.”

Deep down, in a layer of her mind that was still half-submerged in sleep, Brynn felt a surge of relief. She wouldn’t be allowed to go—wouldn’t be able to reach the high, hissing voice that called her. But then she heard the Sovereign buzzing in her ear.

“Tell him you left something in your ship and you only need a moment to get it.”

Brynn opened her mouth, uncertain of what she was going to say and heard herself speak.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that my mate only claimed me today and we were, you know, in such a hurry to get to his suite that I forgot and left all my clothes in his ship.” She gave a soft, embarrassed laugh. “I can hardly go around in this all the time, can I?” She lifted her arms to show off the short, white sleeping garment she wore. It was somewhat revealing, showing the outlines of her breasts and sex beneath the thin fabric.

The guard frowned. “I’m surprised he wanted you going out in it at all. Why didn’t he come to get your clothing himself?”

“He got called to a meeting,” Brynn improvised hastily. “And besides, I have a surprise gift for him that’s in with my clothes. I didn’t want him to see it before I gave it to him.” She pouted prettily. “Please let me get it. Don’t make me spoil the surprise.”

“Well…” The guard looked indecisive. “Can you find the right ship and get into it? Forgive me, but many Earth females seem to think our vehicles look much alike.”

“It’s the second from the last ship at the end of the fourteenth row,” Brynn’s mouth replied glibly. “And my mate gave me access so I could get in. Please? I need to hurry—he’ll be back from his meeting soon!”

“Well…” The guard nodded at last. “All right.”

“Thank you!” Giving him a grateful smile, Brynn scampered past him, heading down the long rows of Kindred craft. But of course, she had no interest in any of them. As soon as she saw the guard look away and start patrolling another area, she veered towards the place where she knew the craft Varin had stolen was parked.

The shiny silver skin reacted to her handprint, just as Varin had programmed it to. The doorway slid open and she was able to duck inside.

Some well-meaning technician had given the ship a thorough going-over and diagnostic as well as filling the fuel tanks to the brim. Of course, she wouldn’t need much fuel to get where she was going. The Sovereign was close—she could feel it in her bones and in the place between her thighs that ached for him so badly she nearly screamed.

Deep inside, the little half-asleep part of her was stirring uneasily.

What are you doing, Brynn? it asked. Where do you think you’re going?

Brynn ignored it. The hissing voice in her head, ordering her to come to him, was louder. It drowned out her doubts.

Programming the take-off sequence was the work of a few minutes and then she put the ship into stealth mode before she even started lift off. The hydrogen-scoop engine was quiet, though not completely silent. But even if the guard heard her lifting off, he wouldn’t see much more than a shimmer in the air before she was gone.

“Come to me…come and be filled, my Queen,” hissed the voice in her head. Unable to fight the effects of the Blood Honey any longer, Brynn did as it said. Putting her hands to the controls, she initiated lift-off.

Soon the empty ache inside her would be assuaged and she would finally be filled…soon.

Chapter Thirty-five

“Wake, warrior!” The strong, female voice in his ear made Bereth sit bolt upright in bed.

“What? Who?” He looked around uncertainly. He appeared to be alone in the darkness but he felt an unmistakable presence that let him know it was not so. It seemed to fill the entire sleeping chamber—a warm, strong, feminine presence that was both powerful and undeniable.

“Warrior,” the voice spoke again. “Your chosen female has gone into grave danger.”

“My chosen female?” He frowned. “You mean Brynnalla?”

“She whom I have set aside for you. She whose name you bear over your heart.”

Bereth’s hand reached for the raised letters on his left pec guiltily.

“I don’t really know her,” he protested. “Not anymore.”

“Your memories are buried but they are there. But there is no more time to wait for them to resurface,” the voice told him. “I tell you that Brynn has gone into danger—she is being called to a fate worse than death. A fate only you can save her from.”

“Who…where…”

Suddenly he had another flash of memory. A huge insect-like creature gripping Brynn in four of its monstrous pinchers while it aimed a long, sharp barb between her legs…

“Gods!” Bereth put a hand to his forehead. “She’s going to that thing? Why in the Seven Hells—?”

“Because the effects of the Blood Honey grow stronger over time rather than weakening. And because she has had no way of slaking the desire it raises in her.” The powerful feminine voice sounded somehow reproving and Bereth felt a wash of guilt come over him.

I should have been helping her instead of pushing her away. But how could I know?

“Guilt is of little use,” the voice informed him. “If you are to save her, you must go now.”

“But how will I know where she’s going?” he demanded. “Is it back into the Blind?”

“The enemy is closer than you think. On the dark side of the Earth’s moon, in a crater that never sees the light of the sun. Go now or risk losing her forever.”

“I’ll go,” he said, getting out of bed and dressing hastily. “But I still don’t even know her. I don’t remember our past or—”

“That which was lost shall be restored. But you must save her and heal her first,” the voice informed him. “Go, warrior—before it is too late.”

And then the voice and the overwhelming female presence that had accompanied it was suddenly gone, leaving the room feeling empty.

But though the voice was gone, it still left a sense of urgency behind.

Bereth pulled on his boots and strapped on a blaster and a knife. As he did so, he had another flash of the past—of himself hiding just outside the entrance to a long, dark tunnel carved into the earth. Only in his vision, he had only one good hand—his left had been shot off.

He put a hand to his head. What the hell was happening to him? Was he finally beginning to regain some of the memories he’d lost?

Whether he was or not, there was no time to sort through them now. He had to get to Brynn—had to get to her before, as the voice had warned him, it was too late.

* * * * *

Flying the little ship in stealth mode to the dark underside of the Earth’s moon was child’s play. Varin had taught her well and anyway, she seemed to be piloting without even thinking about what she was doing. It was almost as though someone else had control of her body and was doing all the work for her. All Brynn had to do was ride along, a passenger inside her own skin, as she watched her hands working without any effort on her part.

Inside her head, a little voice was shouting, Brynn, what are you doing? Where are you going? Don’t do this!

Brynn ignored it. The sharp need to be filled was growing, blotting out everything else in her mind.

Guided by the voice of the Sovereign that seemed to be always hissing in her ear, she found the spot on the cold, dark crater where she was to land. There was an atmosphere dome there—mostly concealed—but she was able to find it and align the door of her ship with one of the airlocks. She heard the click as it locked into place and felt a surge of eagerness from Sovereign X'izith.

“Yes, yes…good, my Queen. You’ve done very well. Now come to me…come through the airlock and enter the honeymoon chamber I have prepared for us.”

Brynn turned off the ship’s engines. Then something—she didn’t know what—made her turn off the stealth mode too. Maybe it was the little voice inside her head screaming at her to stop, Brynn wasn’t sure. She only knew that she couldn’t stop—not now.

She had come too far. She must be filled.

On the way out of the ship, she glanced at the table where she and Varin had eaten so many meals. He’d been cleaning his weapons there, before he went to check on the instruments in the control area and his chip countdown had begun. It seemed like a thousand years ago now—though it was scarcely more than a single solar week.

The long, silver knife Varin had used when he rescued her from the Hive—the one he’d used to cut off the Sovereign’s barb—was lying there on the table, gleaming in the soft light.

On impulse—perhaps the same one that had caused her to turn off the ship’s stealth mode—Brynn grabbed its braided black leather handle. She held it down by her side where it was easily concealed in the folds of her nightdress.

“Come to me,” hissed the voice in her head. Had the Sovereign seen what she had done? Brynn supposed she would find out—she couldn’t delay any longer.

With the little voice screaming in her head and the Sovereign’s buzzing tone in her ears, she stepped out of the ship and through the airlock.

It was time to be filled.

* * * * *

Bereth flew his new Kindred ship with frenetic speed—pushing it as fast as it would go. He didn’t have far to fly, though. Before he knew it, the dark crater at the moon’s South Pole was looming in his viewscreen. He searched frantically, seeing nothing but blackness and dust.

Where are you, Brynn? Where did you go?

Was it already too late? Had the monstrous insect thing he’d seen in his vision of the past swooped her up and carried her away?

Then something silver glinted in the corner of the viewscreen.

Bereth turned his ship towards it at once and came in closer. Sure enough—it was the ship he and Brynn had come here on. He’d seen it sitting in the docking bay often enough to recognize it, even though he didn’t remember flying it or spending time with Brynn on it.

It was docked beside a mound of gray dirt that was just a little too round to be naturally occurring.

Atmosphere dome! he thought and knew at once this must be where she was. Inside the dome—inside with that insectile abomination that wanted to implant her with his fucking grubs!

A surge of protective possessiveness washed over him. He had to get to her—had to save her!

He started landing procedures at once. Brynn was his to protect and he’d be Goddess-damned if that fucking monstrosity was going to lay its claws on her.

He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

* * * * *

The tunnel wasn’t cold and dark as Brynn had expected. Instead, it pulsed with a febrile warmth that made her skin crawl. There were lights hanging from the tunnel walls—huge, dimly glowing things that seemed to be filled with black, pulsing shapes. They were what was giving off the light and the damp, humid warmth.

Brynn didn’t know what they were until she saw one of them move…and realized the light and heat source was alive. It was a monstrous bug—an insect with a hugely swollen abdomen. The black things inside its pulsing belly were its guts, writhing in peristalsis as it digested whatever awful meal it had eaten last.

She thought of Amalthia and her swollen, pregnant belly, thought of the grubs bursting out of her, tearing their way through her stretched flesh with their tiny, sharp, bloody jaws.

The voice in her head screamed at her to go back, but she couldn’t. The compulsion to go on and the hissing voice in her ear were too much to resist. Still, her hand tightened on the handle of the concealed knife. It might not be much of a weapon against a monster like Sovereign X'izith but it was all she had.

Maybe while she was being pierced, she could also do a little piercing of her own.

The thought made her numb with fright…and dizzy with lust. To be filled…to be pierced…to be impregnated with that awful spawn…Brynn feared it would drive her mad. As mad as Amalthia had been at the end, grinning and screaming through her red-stained teeth as her “children” gnawed their way out of her swollen belly.

But still Brynn couldn’t stop. Her feet carried her down the low dirt tunnel, past the living lights, towards the voice which she could now hear with her ears and not just in her mind.

“Ahhh, my bride! My Queen….come to me. Come to the chamber I have prepared for you.”

The tunnel sloped sharply downward and then ended abruptly—opening into a large, round cavern which appeared to have been carved out of rock. It was ringed with the living bug lights and in the center stood the Sovereign.

There was no pretense this time—no mask and gloves and clothes to hide what he really was. He stood there in his glory—in his horror—revealed completely at last.

In her attempt to explain him to Olivia and Sophia, Brynn had looked at pictures of Earth insects, trying to point out the ones he most resembled. He was, they had decided, like a cross between a cockroach and a wasp with the long hard shell-like wings of the former and the narrow waist and stinger of the latter. His head, bulbous and triangular, resembled that of an ant with its curving, serrated mandibles, mobile, twitching antennae, and huge black, soulless eyes. His entire body was shiny black slashed with crimson and his long, chitinous legs were lined with coarse, wiry hairs and tipped with gripping claws.

Between his legs the long, black breeding barb was fully engorged, leaking its clear venomous fluid that smoked and steamed when it dripped upon the hard stone floor.

“Brynnalla my Queen,” he buzzed, extending four of his long legs outward in a gesture of welcome…of enfolding. “Come to me,” he hissed. “Come and be filled as I know you long to.”

Brynn studied his breeding barb and Goddess help her, felt an answering rush of heat in her core. Her pussy throbbed with need and her body burned and ached with emptiness. At the same time, her hand tightened even more on the handle of the knife.

“Come to me,” the Sovereign hissed again.

Brynn went.

* ** * *

Docking with the atmosphere dome was simplicity itself but the urgency had grown so great inside him Bereth fumbled with the controls in his haste. He didn’t know how long he had before his intrusion was noticed. He also didn’t know how long he had until Brynn was impregnated by the murderous grubs she’d spoken of in halting whispers. Or if she already was.

No, she can’t be! I’ll save her—I can’t be too late!

Feelings were stirring in him—memories buried under layers of forgotten years were beginning to come to light. There was still something missing but he felt he might somehow get it back.

But first he had to save Brynn.

He ran through the airlock, blaster at the ready, expecting to encounter the huge sentries his faulty memory had suddenly shown him. But there was no one and nothing—nothing but faintly pulsing light of a sickly greenish color and a humid heat that seemed to breathe from the walls themselves.

Faintly, he could smell Brynn’s feminine scent. She had been here then—and not long ago. Then he heard a high, evil voice hissing in Standard…

“Come to me, my Queen. Come and be filled!”

“Brynn!” Bereth shouted. Throwing caution aside, he went rushing down the long, low tunnel, his blaster gripped tight in one hand. There was a steep downward slope which he slid down, barely keeping his feet, and then he found himself in a round, rocky cavern lit by the same sickly greenish light as above.

Ahead of him was Sovereign X'izith and in his four arms he held Brynn. His breeding barb was angled up, to pierce between her thighs.

“No!” Bereth growled. He lifted the blaster and shot but the insectile X'izith was incredibly fast. Before the blast could reach him, he’d spread his vast, armored wings and enclosed himself and Brynn within them. The laser blast bounced off the hard, shiny black surface and deflected harmlessly into one of the rocky walls.

No! Brynn!” The shout of anguish and despair was ripped from him as he rushed forward. He had the feeling of losing something that was infinitely precious and irreplaceable—something he had not even known he had until it was too late.

“Brynn!” he cried again and in that moment, he heard her shriek.

* * * * *

The Sovereign drew her closer. But this time, instead of pinning her arms to her sides, his massive, pinching claws were clamped tight around her waist. He seemed to take it for granted that Brynn wouldn’t fight him this time. In fact, he even told her to spread her legs and, much to the horror of the little voice inside her, Brynn did as he said.

She was dimly aware of someone calling her name—shouting it with hoarse desperation. But she couldn’t pay attention to anything now but the need inside her—the desperate craving to be filled.

The Sovereign spread his wings, enclosing them in semi-darkness—a cocoon from which there was no escaping. He leaned towards her, his alien face with its sharp, curving mandibles shoved into hers. Brynn found she could not look away, though she desperately wanted to.

She spread her thighs as his breeding barb rose, dripping from the Sovereign’s pulsing abdomen. So much of him was hard—covered in the shiny black carapace that protected his vital organs. But his abdomen was soft. That seemed important somehow but she didn’t know why.

The little voice inside whispered, It’s important because that’s where he’s vulnerable.

Brynn clenched the handle of the knife, still concealed in the folds of her night dress. She was going to die—but why should she be the only one?

“Spread your thighs a little wider, my Queen,” X'izith hissed. “There must be no impediment to the implantation. Accept my barb within you and know that only a deep breeding can ease the ache you feel.”

“Yes,” Brynn whispered as the barb rose higher, level with her entrance. And then, as it stabbed forward, so did she.

The shining silver blade she held slid smoothly into the pulsing abdomen—it was, Brynn thought, like slicing into the tender flesh of the ripest fruit imaginable. Only fruit didn’t scream and shriek when you cut it…didn’t bleed green ichor and spill black entrails, steaming and smoking onto the rocky ground below.

“Oh, you wicked, evil little flesher bitch!” she heard X'izith hiss.

She became aware that she was screaming too—shrieking at the top of her lungs as she sliced into him…and he sliced into her. For his massive, bulbous head came forward again and she felt his cruelly serrated mandibles snap at the tender skin of her throat.

Blood began to gush, hot and red, and the wicked black breeding barb drew a line of fire from her inner thigh down to her knee. Brynn continued to stab and cut though the green and black ichor pouring over her skin burned like acid.

Then someone else was there, somehow inside the protective cocoon the Sovereign had made around them with his wings.

“Get the fuck away from her you bastard!” a familiar deep voice shouted. The blaster coughed again, hitting one of the Sovereign’s wide saucer-like eyes, putting it out but not killing him.

“No, no!” he shrieked and writhed. His pinchers cut into the skin of her waist and Brynn feared they might actually tear her in two, ripping the top half of her body from the bottom.

Then Varin/Bereth was there. He gripped one of the Sovereign’s arms and pulled, his muscles bulging. With a wet, ripping sound the black, chitinous arm with its wiry black hair came away from the armored body. It jerked spasmodically in his hands until he tossed it on the ground.

Sovereign X'izith shrieked even louder—an ear-splitting sound that seemed to fill the whole cavern and threatened to burst Brynn’s eardrums.

“Let her go,” Varin/Bereth roared in the huge insect’s face. “Let her go or I swear by all the Gods I’ll put all your limbs off one by one. Let her go fucking now!”

For a moment the pinchers squeezed even tighter until Brynn was certain her internal organs would be damaged and lacerated. Then they all relaxed at once and she was able to breathe again.

“Varin,” she whispered, as he dragged her out of the Sovereign’s clutches. “I mean, Bereth…”

“Hush—don’t try to talk.” His voice had a low, choked sound and he kept trying to press his hand to her neck for some reason. “Don’t talk,” he said again. “It makes the bleeding worse. Gods!”

Brynn looked up at him, wishing she could tell him why she’d come to this place of death, wanting to explain that she hadn’t been able to help herself, wishing to apologize for bringing him here too.

“Varin,” she whispered again and then everything went dark.

Chapter Thirty-six

“Gods, what do I do now?” Bereth stumbled up the passageway, carrying Brynn’s limp form to his waiting ship. There was blood—so much blood—pulsing from her slender throat where the bastard had torn her with his mandibles. She would die if he couldn’t stop the flow—might already be dead. But what could he do?

The Mother Ship, while quite close, was still too far to fly to. If he left Brynn unattended while he piloted the ship—even for five minutes—she would bleed out and die. But Bereth was no doctor—he didn’t know how to save her. She would die in his arms and he would never regain what had been lost between them—that elusive spark that was so close and yet so far away.

“Brynn,” he whispered. He crouched on the floor of his ship, holding his fingers to her throat to try and stop the flow of crimson but it wasn’t doing any good. Already her pulse was fading. “Oh, Brynn I’m so Goddess-damned sorry…”

Suddenly the entire ship was filled with the same, strong female presence he’d felt in his room earlier. The powerful feminine voice spoke in his ear.

“Seal her wound.”

“What? How?” Bereth looked around wildly. Who was speaking to him, anyway? And what did they mean?

“You can heal her, Warrior. I gave that ability to you. Remember…” the voice commanded.

Suddenly a memory from far in his past surfaced in Bereth’s mind…

His mother, cutting something at the food prep area with a sharp knife. Her hand was wet and the blade twisted in her fingers, leaving a great gash across her palm. She cried out and dropped the knife. Bereth had been watching from the corner and he started crying—he was very young and it was frightening to see a parent hurt, especially his beloved mother whom he idolized.

His father had come running at the sound of pain in her voice.

“What is it? What happened?” he’d exclaimed.

Wordlessly, Bereth’s mother had held out her hand.

His father frowned. “A bad cut, darling. Don’t worry—I’ll heal it.” Bending his head, he’d licked gently at her palm, tracing the wound with the tip of his tongue.

His mother sighed in relief and leaned her head against her mate’s shoulder.

“Thank you, sweetheart—that feels so much better.” Then she’d showed her palm to Bereth, who was still crying. “Don’t cry, Bereth! See? Mommy’s all better now.”

And indeed, her palm had been completely healed—as though the awful cut had never happened in the first place…

Suddenly Bereth understood. Seal the wound, the voice had ordered. And now he knew how.

Bending over Brynn, he lapped along the side of her throat, licking carefully but thoroughly, cleaning and sealing the awful, jagged wound inflicted by X'izith’s mandibles.

At once, the bleeding stopped. But as his mouth filled with her blood, Bereth had a peculiar sensation—a tug from deep inside. Something was happening, not just to Brynn but to himself as well. But what?

He had no time to consider the strange new sensation because Brynn’s pulse was still weak and thready. Bereth felt another surge of panic.

She lost too much blood before I stopped the flow. She may not be pumping her life away anymore but she’s still dying!

This time he looked up, searching for the invisible presence.

“Help me!” he said aloud. “What do I do now?”

“Let her drink from you,” the rich, powerful voice replied and then went silent.

This time Bereth didn’t need a memory to tell him what to do. Quickly, he slipped a small, sharp knife from its sheath at his waist. He made a slice across the blue bracelet of veins that ran on the underside of his wrist. Then, cradling Brynn in his arms, he brought his bleeding wrist to her half-open mouth.

At first he had to massage her throat to get her to swallow. But soon Brynn began to swallow on her own…and then to suck as if seeking more nourishment. As she did, the strange tugging sensation he’d felt earlier when he tasted her blood as he sealed his wound reoccurred—even stronger than before.

Suddenly Bereth had another memory—of himself as a small child, watching a baby princess and knowing that he would devote his life to her. Tasting just a tiny drop of her blood and then feeling bound to her in a way that went deeper than words…deeper than any emotion he’d ever felt before.

And then all the memories after that came rushing back. Watching her nightly in his dreams, seeing her grow up in the convent as he worked to make his body strong for her. The first time he saw her at the palace—the way she had fallen from the stands in the Arena and he’d caught her in his arms…the way she challenged him to talk to her and their long conversations…the way she’d been deflowered before his eyes and stolen away and his desperate race to get back to the Hive to rescue her…

Everything, all of it came flooding back to him at once. And with the memories, came emotions. He hugged Brynn to him, his heart overflowing with love and desire and protectiveness.

“Mine,” he whispered as he held her tight and she drank from him. “My Princess…my Mistress…my little one. Mine to protect…mine to cherish…mine to love. Oh, Brynn, how could I have ever forgotten you? You ARE my life.”

At last Brynn finished drinking and her eyelids fluttered open.

“Varin?” she whispered softly, reaching up one small hand to cup his rough cheek. “I mean, I’m sorry—Bereth.”

“Don’t call me that,” he said in a low, choked voice. “My name is Varin—the bound one. Because I am bound to you forever, Princess. And I’ll never let you go again.”

“Varin?” Her eyes grew bright with hope. “Do…do you mean that?” she whispered. “You remember?”

“Everything,” he murmured. “Including what an ass I was. I’m so sorry, Brynn.”

“It’s all right—you couldn’t help it. You didn’t remember me. But now you do—right?”

He smiled a little. “You want me to tell you something from our past only I would know? How about the fact that you thought a male had to poke you in the belly button to start a baby?”

“Oh Varin—you do remember!” She giggled and then both of them were laughing and hugging and crying at once and Varin was conscious of how precious and wonderful and perfect she was as he held her in his arms, hugging her to him as though to make sure she was really real…and really alive.

At last he pulled back from her and looked her over critically.

“How do you feel, little one? You lost a lot of blood.”

To his surprise, his question caused her to burst into tears.

“What is it? Are you hurt? Are you wounded someplace else?” He began to search frantically for another wound to heal and in fact, he found one—a long, wicked-looking slice that ran from her knee to her inner thigh.

Must have been made by that bastard X'izith’s barb, he thought. Have to heal her. But is there something worse?

But as he was in the process of searching, Brynn put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I’m all right,” she sniffed. “Really I am. I just…never thought I’d hear you call me by that nickname ever again. Or ‘Princess’ or ‘Mistress’ or anything but just plain ‘Brynnalla’ and you know how I hate my full name.”

“Gods, I’ve been such an idiot.” He drew her close to him again. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive,” she said simply. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmured into her hair. “And you’re still my Princess and the Mistress of my heart and my little one to protect and watch over. You’re still my Brynn.”

“Oh, Varin…” She snuggled close to him and pressed her cheek to his. “Let’s go home—or go back to the Mother Ship anyway. I want to get away from this place. What if…” She shivered. “What if Sovereign X'izith isn’t dead?”

Varin lifted an eyebrow. “After you gutted him like a Winter Feast gorst-bird and I ripped off his leg and shot out an eye? If he’s not dead by now he’s the toughest son-of-a-bitch in the known universe.”

“I don’t care if he’s dead or alive—I just want to get away from here,” Brynn whispered. “He…he called me here and I couldn’t say no. I didn’t want to come but part of me…” She broke off, shaking her head.

“At least you brought my knife with you,” Varin pointed out. “That was good thinking, Princess.”

“It wasn’t thinking—more like instinct. I thought…there at the end, I thought: ‘I’m going to die…but why should I die alone?’ I guess I wanted to take him with me.” She shivered again. “I don’t even know how I stabbed him. It was…almost like an instinct. Maybe the last little bit of self-preservation I had left coming out.”

“Whatever it was, it saved your life. That and the voice that shouted in my ear and woke me up to go looking for you,” he said seriously.

“A voice? Shouting in your ear?” She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t fully either,” Varin admitted. “But it told me to come after you and afterwards it told me how to save you—by sealing your wound and giving you my blood.” He looked down at his wrist which had stopped bleeding and thought of the strong, female voice that had told him what to do. “Thank all the Gods that ever were…or maybe I should say thank the Goddess.”

“I’ll be thankful when we get away from here,” Brynn said.

“All right—we’re going. I’ll go start the lift-off sequence if you feel well enough to stand?”

Brynn was still a little weak but with his help she managed to move to the passenger seat. Varin strapped her in securely and fired up the engines. They were going back to the Mother Ship, which he supposed was home. But really, it didn’t matter where they went as long as he had Brynn in his life—she was his home and his heart and that was never going to change.

Chapter Thirty-seven

“Well, you seem fine. Except for some bruising and that nasty slice on your leg. Normally I would say it needs sutures but I understand that Bereth wants to heal you himself?” Commander Sylvan raised one eyebrow questioningly.

“It’s Varin,” Varin corrected him. “And yes, thank you Commander Sylvan—I’ll heal Brynn myself when we get back to our suite.”

“Varin again?” Sylvan looked surprised. “So then…”

“Yes—he remembered!” Brynn couldn’t keep the joy out of her voice—she didn’t even try. “It all came back to him—all of it.”

“And this was after he healed your wound—thus tasting your blood—and gave you some of his in return?” Sylvan looked intrigued.

“Yes—that’s right.” Varin nodded. “It seemed to restore my bond to Brynn at once.”

“I should have thought of recommending that earlier,” Sylvan murmured. “But then again, I don’t know if it would have worked earlier. You had to be in a dire situation that jogged your memories along with your love and possessiveness for your female.”

“That’s an understatement,” Varin growled. “To walk in and see that bastard grabbing her…” He broke off, shaking his head. There was a shadowed look in his eyes and Brynn had the feeling he was wondering what would have happened if he’d been just a second later.

“Don’t,” she murmured, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “You got to me in time, Varin. And you’re yourself again. Everything is going to be all right now.”

She tried to believe her own words but there was a nagging feeling inside her that they might not be true. A sensation she wanted to bury which kept trying to press itself to the surface of her mind.

With an effort she pushed it back down again and smiled at the male she loved.

“You’re right.” He smiled back. “Everything will be all right now.”

“I hope you’re right,” Commander Sylvan said. “And I hope you really did kill this Sovereign X'izith. We believe he had targeted us specifically—he’s been sending scouts to attack us for weeks.”

“If he’s not dead now he will be soon,” Varin said confidently. “Commander Sylvan, can I have your leave to take my female back to our suite now? I think we could both use some time in the bathing pool.” He nodded down at his own grimy appearance. He’d only been wearing his black leather flight trousers when he came for her and his bare skin was smeared with her blood and X'izith’s black ichor.

Brynn knew she didn’t’ look much better. In fact—she looked a great deal worse. The pristine white night dress she’d put on for bed what felt like a million years ago was in rags and tatters, stained with red and black and green and grimy with the gray dirt of the moon. There was nothing she wanted more than a bath at this point.

Well, almost nothing…

She pushed the worry back down again and looked up at Varin.

“I really want to go back to the suite. I’m so tired.”

“Go ahead.” Sylvan nodded. “But please come back and see me tomorrow if you have any problems or symptoms at all. If you need any pain killers—”

“I’ll take care of her pain,” Varin said quickly. He frowned. “It’s…something I can do, along with healing her wounds.”

Sylvan nodded thoughtfully. “Truly, though you don’t have fangs, I think the Vision Kindred must be close kin to my own kind, the Blood Kindred. You have many of the same talents and abilities. I’d like to learn more about your people, Varin.”

“Later I’ll let you run any tests you want. For now, I need to get Brynn back to our suite.”

Without asking if she could walk, Varin gathered her into his arms. Brynn thought of protesting but decided she liked being carried. She laid her cheek against the left side of his chest—where her name was written—and listened to the reassuring thump of his heart.

Everything is going to be all right, she told herself. X'izith is dead and Varin is alive and remembers our past. Everything will be fine.

But inside she felt a familiar, gnawing emptiness. A feeling that things were not quite at rest yet, not quite finished…

Brynn pushed the feeling aside and nodded at Commander Sylvan. Then she nuzzled closer to Varin’s broad chest again and told herself not to worry, not to be silly because everything was going to be just fine…

It was after a long, leisurely soak in the bathing pool that she had to admit things were not, in fact fine. Not fine at all.

“Hey,” Varin murmured, as he dried her off with a big, puffy towel that seemed to absorb all the moisture from her body instantly. “What’s wrong, little one? You’re so quiet. Are you just tired?”

Brynn gave him a tremulous smile. She didn’t want to tell Varin what was wrong—didn’t want to worry him. He’d been so attentive and gentle during their mutual bath, lathering up a bathing mitt to wash her gently all over, then washing her hair for her…he’d been treating her like she was made of the finest crystal and might shatter if he touched her too hard.

So how could Brynn tell him what she was craving…what she needed?

A deep breeding, hissed a voice in her head. Only a deep breeding can satisfy your need…can fill your emptiness…

Brynn tried to push the memory away but it wouldn’t go.

I can’t tell him, she thought. I just can’t…

But that was the kind of thinking and fear that had gotten her into trouble in the first place. She would have to tell.

“I…I’m not just tired,” she whispered, looking up at him. “Varin, I’m so sorry but…but I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Varin looked at her with an anxious frown. “Is your wound bothering you? I should have healed it earlier.”

Picking her up, he carried her to the bed and lay her down on the broad, firm mattress. Brynn was still naked and she suddenly felt shy, spread out nude like this for him. She tried to shut her legs but Varin was already kneeling before her and shaking his head.

“No, little one—I need to see where you’re hurt. Open up and let me see—open up and let me heal you.”

His low, commanding voice was enough to make Brynn shiver with need. She wanted to tell him that the cut on her leg wasn’t what was bothering her. Except…it was related. Or at least, the place where the cut ended, high on her inner thigh, was somewhat related to her problem.

Slowly, she spread her thighs.

“That’s good, little one,” he rumbled. “Are you shy about letting me see your pussy?”

“A…a little,” Brynn confessed.

“Don’t be, I’ve seen you before, remember? And besides, you’re beautiful.” His bronze eyes were gentle. “I’m just going to heal your leg—all right?”

“All…all right.” Brynn bit her lip as he started at her knee and ran his warm, wet tongue up her inner thigh. Goddess above, it felt so good! “Varin!” she moaned softly as he finally got to her inner thigh.

He seemed to spend a long time licking and sucking there, paying special attention to the place where her leg met her body. She could feel his warm breath blowing over her pussy and though she knew he was only supposed to be healing her, she couldn’t help the shivers of lust that went through her…or the way her pussy began to get so hot and wet.

Apparently Varin noticed it too.

“Mmm, little one,” he murmured, looking up at her. “Are you all right? Your pussy is beginning to look all swollen and achy.”

Brynn started to say she was fine and then remembered something—Varin had told Commander Sylvan that he could ease her pain the same way he could heal her wounds. So maybe if he licked her…

“Varin,” she said softly. “I am swollen and achy between my legs—that’s what I was trying to tell you. I…do you remember I told you the Sovereign called me to him and I had to go?”

“Yes?” He frowned, clearly not comprehending.

“He…he was calling me to be…to be penetrated. To be filled.” Brynn gave a convulsive shudder at the thought. “I didn’t want him inside me but I needed to be filled. And that need was driving me crazy.”

“But he didn’t—”

“No—no, he didn’t,” she said quickly. “Although the wound you just healed makes it obvious how close he came.” She crossed her arms over her breasts and bit her lip. “The thing is, I thought after he was gone—was dead—this empty ache inside me would go away too. This awful feeling I’ve had ever since I was forced to drink the Blood Honey in the Hive…”

Varin raised an eyebrow. “But it hasn’t?”

Miserably, Brynn shook her head.

“No,” she said in a small voice. “It hasn’t.”

“So what do you need, little one?” He was still kneeling between her legs, his hands on her knees. His eyes were intent as he looked at her. “Just tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

It was on the tip of Brynn’s tongue to say that she needed to be penetrated…bred…fucked. But the image of the silver club within the deflowering throne rose up in her mind and somehow she couldn’t say it—couldn’t ask for what she knew she really needed.

“You…you said you could ease my pain as well as cure my wounds,” she reminded him. “You told Commander Sylvan that—do you remember?”

“Of course.” He stroked her knees gently. “Tell me where you’re hurting, little one and I’ll try to ease you.”

“How?” Brynn asked. “I mean…how will you ease my pain?”

“The same way I healed you—by licking.”

“And…you wouldn’t mind licking me even if…even if I was hurting in a very intimate place?” Brynn could feel her cheeks getting hot but the need and the empty ache were growing inside her—shouting too loudly to be ignored.

His bronze eyes were suddenly sleepy with desire.

“Anywhere, little one. Just show me where it hurts and I’ll ease your pain.”

“Here. I hurt here.” Biting her lip again, Bryn lifted her hips, indicating her pussy which was so wet and slippery with need her juices were beginning to wet her inner thighs.

“You need me to lick your pussy, Princess?” he murmured, tracing one gentle fingertip over her swollen outer lips. “Need me to part your sweet pussy lips and trace your ripe little clit with my tongue?”

Brynn jumped at the tender touch and tried to bite back a moan.

“If…if you don’t mind.”

“Brynn,” he growled softly, looking into her eyes. “I’ve been wanting to lick your soft little pussy for years. Of course I don’t fucking mind.”

“Then, would you—”

Her question ended in a moan because he had leaned forward and bathed her outer pussy lips with a long, slow swipe of his tongue.

“Oh…aaaah!” Brynn gasped as he did it again and then again, lapping slowly over just the outer part of her pussy, cleaning away the honey that had leaked from her inner folds.

“Better, Princess?” he murmured, looking up at her.

“Yes…some,” Brynn admitted.

“You know, I used to imagine doing this to you back at the palace,” Varin admitted. “Especially after I gave you that damn tickle-teaser and I could hear you moaning and calling my name. I wanted so Goddess-damned much to fall on my knees and worship your pussy with my tongue…to make you moan and cry and come all over my face.”

“You…you did?” His hot words turned her on, as they always did and though her outer pussy felt better, Brynn felt like the ache inside her was actually intensifying. Still, she didn’t want him to stop.

“Hell yes, I did,” he growled. “I always wanted to taste your pussy honey straight from the source.”

“And…did you…did you only want to lick the, um, the outside?” Brynn asked breathlessly.

He gave a soft, rumbling laugh.

“Is that a hint that I need to spread open your hot little pussy and lick your clit, little one?”

“Would you…could you, please?” Brynn begged softly.

In answer, he spread her outer pussy lips, baring her slippery inner folds and the little pink pearl of her clit. Brynn was embarrassed by how wet she was getting and by how prominent her clit was. But Varin seemed to love it.

“So wet,” he growled hoarsely. “So ready for my tongue, little one.” Then he leaned forward and licked her again, this time dragging his hot tongue over the sensitive little button at her center.

Brynn gasped and suddenly found she was grasping his thick, dark hair with both hands, though she wasn’t sure if she was trying to pull him closer for more of the deliciously intense sensation or push him away because it was too intense.

Varin seemed to think she was pulling him forward.

“That’s right, little one,” he murmured. “Guide me. Show me where you need my tongue to go.”

“My…my clit. Please,” Brynn begged shamelessly. “Lick me there, please, Varin.”

“My pleasure, Princess.” He leaned forward again but this time instead of licking, he sucked her sensitive little pearl between his lips and began to circle it with just the tip of his tongue.

Sparks of pure pleasure shot through her and Brynn arched her back with a cry, pressing her pussy up to his mouth to give him better access. Goddess above, his tongue felt amazing.

“Varin,” she moaned, her fingers tightening in his hair. “That feels so good.”

But as good as it felt, the pleasure he was giving her was doing nothing to ease the empty ache inside her. In fact, if anything, it was making things worse. Brynn was beginning to feel just as she had when X'izith had called her out of the Mother Ship—like she would go crazy if she wasn’t filled. If she wasn’t bred.

“Varin?” she said, tugging at his hair. “Varin, I need to talk to you.”

He looked up, his bronze eyes sleepy with lust. His mouth and chin were shiny with her juices.

“What is it, Princess?” he growled hoarsely.

“I need more,” Brynn told him desperately. “I need…I need to be filled.”

He frowned. “But I thought you never wanted to be penetrated again. Not after your deflowering.”

“I don’t want it,” Brynn admitted. “But I…I think I need it.”

“All right.” He frowned thoughtfully. “But we’ll take it slowly. Let’s start with something that isn’t too big or scary.”

Brynn was going to ask him what he meant but he put his head down again, gripped her thighs, and thrust his tongue deeply into the entrance of her pussy.

She moaned and arched her back. Having anything at all inside her felt good—felt right in a way she never would have believed. But as Varin fucked her with deep, long strokes of his tongue, she still felt something was missing.

“Varin…” she gasped, wiggling her hips restlessly. “Please…”

“Yes, Princess?” he asked, looking up again. “Not enough?” He licked his lips. “Gods, your pussy is delicious. Knew it would be.”

“Not enough,” Brynn echoed. “I’m sorry Varin, I just…need more.”

“Let’s give you more, then.” Slowly, he slipped two long, strong fingers into her pussy and began to fuck slowly into her with them.

“Ahhh!” Brynn gasped. His fingers were deliciously long and thick and she found, to her delight, that it didn’t hurt when they slid inside her. Her maiden barrier was gone—there was nothing to keep him from plunging into her, all the way to the end of her channel.

As he pumped into her with his fingers, Varin went back to tasting her pussy. He lapped from top to bottom, paying special attention to her throbbing clit. His mouth and fingers were better than any tickle-teaser and Brynn felt her body climbing to that elusive peak she always had such a hard time reaching on her own.

“Varin,” she moaned, tugging at his hair. “Oh Goddess above—I think I’m going to come! You’re making me come!”

Her words seemed to spur him on because he licked her faster than before and the big, thick fingers pumped in and out of her until Brynn thought she would die from the intense jolts of pleasure he was sending through her entire body.

Suddenly she felt herself tilting over the edge, an intense orgasm washing through her—so intense she could barely breathe. She cried out and pressed her thighs to the sides of Varin’s head, bucking her hips wildly as she gave herself up to the pleasure he was giving her.

But even as the orgasm rolled over her, she felt a part of herself holding back—felt the empty ache inside her grow even worse.

A deep breeding, hissed the memory in her head. Only a deep breeding will ease the ache inside you.

A deep breeding. And Varin couldn’t breed her with his fingers or his tongue. As good as they felt inside her, Brynn needed something more.

She needed his shaft. She needed to be stretched…filled…opened and seeded.

“Varin?” she whispered when he finished and looked up at her, his eyes blazing with lust and his mouth shiny from lapping her pussy to orgasm.

“Yes, little one?” His voice was a deep, hungry growl. “You need more?”

“I need…I need…”

But Brynn found she couldn’t say what she needed out loud. Instead, she turned over and positioned herself on her hands and knees, her legs spread wide. Biting her lip, she turned her head to look behind her.

Varin was still kneeling behind her but he stood slowly and looked at her with a frown.

“Princess? What are you asking for?”

Goddess above, was he really going to make her say it? But Brynn supposed she could understand why. After all, she’d told him many times she never wanted to be penetrated again after her deflowering. And she still didn’t—the idea was frightening and it filled her with uncertainty. But she needed it—needed it so badly she ached inside.

“Please, Varin,” she heard herself begging. “Please, I need you inside me. Not just your fingers or your tongue—you. Your…your shaft.”

“I thought you were afraid—that you didn’t want anything in you ever again after—”

“I am afraid,” she interrupted. “But, Varin…I ache inside. I feel like I’m going to go crazy if you don’t fill me.”

He frowned. “If you’re sure…”

“More than sure. Please, Varin!”

He nodded decisively. “All right. But we’re going to take it slow. I’m only putting the head in you at first—just like we did when you only wanted my seed in you.”

Brynn was fairly certain that nothing but having his entire thick cock stretching her pussy with the broad head of his shaft kissing the mouth of her womb would satisfy the restless hunger inside her but she understood his desire not to hurt her.

“All right,” she said breathlessly. “But just…please hurry.”

“You need it bad, don’t you little one?” He stood behind her and stroked her trembling back and hips with large, warm, soothing hands. “It’s all right, I’ll give you everything you need—I promise. Just don’t want to hurt you in the process.”

As he spoke, Brynn felt the blunt head of his cock pressing the entrance of her pussy. With a little moan of pure need, she tilted her hips and arched her back, opening herself even more for him—giving him greater access to her unprotected sex.

She felt just the head of his cock enter her but the ache inside her was so great she couldn’t help herself. Pushing back, she attempted to get more of him inside her. But just as another thick inch breached her pussy, she felt Varin’s big hands clamp tight around her waist, keeping her from getting any more.

“Hold on, Princess,” he growled. “Take it easy…take it slow.”

“Don’t want to take it easy and slow,” Brynn moaned. “Please, Varin, I need you!”

“All right, little one. It’s all right. Just be still and I’ll give you what you need. Just don’t want to hurt your soft little pussy—you’re so tight and I’m on the large side.”

“Please!” Brynn moaned. Having him only a little way in her was driving her crazy! The burning, aching need inside her was crying out for more…more. She thought she would lose her mind if she didn’t get his long, thick shaft all the way inside her soon.

But there was no rushing the big Kindred. Keeping a firm grip on her hips, he slid slowly and deliberately inside her.

Brynn bit her lip as she felt her inner walls stretching to accommodate his girth. Goddess above, he really was huge, especially compared to her own petite size. And yet, though the stretching was so intense as to be almost painful, she didn’t want him to stop.

At last, to her relief, she felt him bottom out inside her, the wide head of his cock pressing firmly against the mouth of her womb.

“Mmmm,” Brynn moaned, wiggling her hips as much as he would allow, enjoying the sensation of being so completely filled. Why had she been afraid of this? she wondered dimly. It felt amazing.

“Take it easy, little one,” she heard Varin murmur hoarsely. “It’s hard enough to hold still inside your tight little pussy without you wiggling like a little fish all over the place.”

“But I don’t want you to hold still,” Brynn nearly cried. “Please, Varin—I need you to breed me!”

“Breed you?” He frowned. “That’s a pretty harsh term for making love, Brynn.”

“Because I don’t need you to make love to me right now.” Inside her head the memory of the Sovereign’s voice was hissing that she would never be free until she gave in to her needs—the needs of the Blood Honey. She looked back at Varin appealingly. “I need you to breed me. I need you to ram yourself inside me and take me hard until you fill me with your cream—with your seed.”

“What?” He shook his head, frowning. “No. No, Brynn, I won’t hurt you—won’t use you like that.”

“If you don’t do it, I’ll die.” As the words left her lips, Brynn knew they were true. “The…the Sovereign told me,” she said, trying to stop her voice from shaking. “He told me only a deep breeding would stop the ache. Please, Varin—I’m burning up inside! I need you so badly.”

He looked at her for a moment, heat and uncertainty mixed in his bronze gaze.

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything,” Brynn whispered. “Please, Varin—if you love me then you’ve got to breed me. Hard.”

Varin seemed to make up his mind.

“All right, little one,” he growled. “Then put your head down and your ass up and spread those pretty thighs of yours even wider. I’m going to give you what you need until you tell me to stop.”

“I won’t ask you to stop until you fill me with your cream,” Brynn promised in a breathless whisper. Then she lowered the top half of her body so that her forearms were on the mattress and her head was touching one of the pillows. The position spread her pussy even wider, giving Varin more room to move—more room to thrust. Brynn just prayed he would hurry and that he wouldn’t hold back—she desperately needed to feel his thick shaft ramming into her.

The only warning she got was another momentary tightening of his fingers around her hips. Then with a low groan, he pulled almost all the way out of her and slammed back in again, filling her completely. Then he did it again…and again and again.

Brynn cried out with each stroke, moaning with pure pleasure—pure need—as she spread herself wide to accept his deep, brutal thrusts. She was gripping the bedspread, squeezing it tight with trembling fingers as she opened herself to Varin completely, giving herself up to what he was giving her—finally getting what she needed.

“Varin,” she heard herself moaning. “Oh, Goddess, yes! Harder, I need it harder!”

“Don’t…want…to hurt…you,” he growled, still pounding into her from behind.

“You’re not…or you are but I want you to. I need you to! Please, Varin—I’m so close!”

The hard, brutal thrusts deep in her tender pussy were pushing her to the edge faster than she would have believed possible. She, who had always had trouble reaching the peak without difficulty, was almost at the summit again. And yet, as close as she came, she couldn’t quite make it over the edge. Her pussy ached and throbbed, stretched wide to accommodate Varin’s long, thick cock and her clit seemed to be pulsing like a second heartbeat between her legs but still she couldn’t…quite…get…there.

Suddenly, she knew what she needed.

“Varin!” she cried, turning her head over her shoulder to look at him. “Varin, please—come in me. Fill me with your cream—with your seed. I need it in me!”

“Gods, little one—was trying to wait for you to come first,” he growled hoarsely.

“I can’t until you do.” Brynn wasn’t sure why this was true but she knew it was somehow. “Please, Varin, I need you deep inside me, shooting your hot come in my pussy.”

Her only answer was a low growl and then Varin pulled her back onto his cock and pressed hard inside her, filling her completely. Brynn felt the broad head of his cock give the mouth of her womb a deep, battering kiss. And then something hot and wet spurted deep inside her, bathing her insides, flooding her with his seed.

Brynn felt something inside her body open like a flower unfolding, and at last her long-delayed orgasm crashed over her like a drenching, drowning wave.

“Oh…oh!” she cried, her voice breaking with pleasure and emotion and need. She felt a sensation like sucking deep inside her—it was almost as though her inner pussy was milking Varin’s thick shaft, drinking all the cream he made for her and sucking hungrily for more.

Yes, she thought deliriously. Yes, this is what I need—what I want. This forever—Varin with me, in me, forever.

She never wanted it to end but the sensation was so intense she began to feel lightheaded and then bright lights began to flash in front of her eyes. Her heart was pounding so hard and fast it seemed like she couldn’t get a good breath. Goddess, what was wrong with her? She felt dizzy, almost as though she might float away. Only Varin’s thick cock inside her, still spurting his hot cream, anchored her to reality. But soon, Brynn felt herself losing touch even with that. She struggled to stay awake, to stay upright, but it was a losing battle.

With a soft moan, she collapsed on her side just as Varin finished and pulled out of her.

* * * * *

Varin felt his heart stutter in his chest when she slipped to the side and collapsed. Gods, what had he done?

Quickly, he gathered her into his arms, peering into her sweet face anxiously.

“Brynn?” he murmured, stroking her cheek. “Little one, please—please be all right!”

All the while he held her and called to her, his thoughts ran in an endless, guilty loop.

Goddess, why did I do it? I shouldn’t have taken her so hard…should have said no. Should have stopped myself…

“You only gave me what I asked for…what I needed,” whispered a soft, familiar voice. But Varin wasn’t hearing it with his ears—it was coming from inside his head.

“Brynn?” he asked doubtfully, still holding her close.

Her long lashes fluttered and she looked up at him, her big gray eyes serene.

“I love you so much,” she said but her lips never moved. “That was amazing, Varin—incredible.”

“What’s incredible is how you seem to be talking inside my head,” he said aloud. “I mean, you are talking to me—aren’t you? I’m hearing your voice, just not with my ears. Am I going crazy?”

“You’re not crazy,” Brynn assured him. “I think we just bonded.”

“What? But I was already bonded to you,” Varin protested.

“Yes, but now I’m bonded to you, too. Sophia and Olivia explained it to me—they said you have to make love—have bonding sex—in order to form a real, permanent attachment with a Kindred. And after that, you can speak mind-to-mind.”

“Bonding sex?” Varin sent, trying out the new bond that seemed to exist between them. “Listen—I can do it too!”

Brynn smiled. “Of course you can—we’re bonded now.”

“But what about the bond I had to you before?”

“The blood-bond?” Brynn sounded thoughtful. “I think that was just a preliminary bond—in fact, Olivia and Sophia told me something else—they said that with each Kindred bonding sex is different. I wonder if the exchange of blood we did when you healed me and saved me with your blood was the first part of that?”

“I wish I could remember more about my people,” Varin sent. “But that feels right. And now that I think about it, I seem to remember my parents being able to communicate without talking. But I was so young when they were killed it’s hard to be sure.”

“I’m so sorry about that.” Brynn’s mental voice was soft and regretful. “The slavers killed them so they could take you and sell you to someone like my father. In a way I can’t help feeling like they died because of me.”

“Don’t feel that way!” Varin exclaimed. “You’ve brought nothing but love to my life, Brynn. My parents were taken because they were living alone in a defenseless place. That’s one thing I do remember—my mother being worried about security. We kept moving from place to place but eventually the slavers found us.”

“Well there’s no need for you and I to move anywhere,” Brynn sent. “Here on the Mother Ship we have as much security as we could possibly want. We can be together and raise a family without worrying that what happened to your parents will happen to us. We can be safe and love each other forever.”

“I love the idea of being with you forever, Princess.” Varin spoke out loud this time and he found his voice was hoarse with emotion. “So many times I nearly lost you. To know that I finally have you, safe and secure, bonded to me forever is the answer to my heart’s deepest wish.”

“Oh, Varin…” Brynn’s voice was unsteady too and there were tears in her lovely gray eyes. “I love you so much…so much,” she whispered.

Varin held her to him and buried his face in her long, black hair, breathing her in.

“My Princess,” he murmured. “My Mistress…my little one. I love you too. And I’ll never let you go.”

Chapter Thirty-eight

“So you finally bonded? I knew you would! I knew having bonding sex would help.” Olivia grinned triumphantly.

“Well, actually, Varin had already gotten his memory back before they had bonding sex,” Sophia reminded her. “After he drank Brynn’s blood again and gave her some of his—remember?”

“The blood exchange might have renewed their bond but the sex sealed it,” Olivia said decisively. “It might not be true anywhere else in the universe but with the Kindred, there really is such a thing as sexual healing.”

“I’m just so happy now.” Brynn smiled at both of them. “And I feel so blessed by the Goddess. You know, we always prayed to a Goddess on Galen Prime but she seemed so far away—a faceless deity I never really knew. But here, on the Mother Ship she seems so real.”

“The Goddess is absolutely real,” a new voice said from the doorway to Olivia’s suite.

Brynn looked up to see a full-figured woman with long auburn hair and a big smile on her face.

“Oh Kat, you’re early!” Olivia exclaimed.

“Am I?” Kat pouted a little. “That’s too bad, doll. I was really hoping I would be just a little later than Lauren. Is she still bringing cupcakes?”

“She’ll be here in a minute,” Sophie said laughing. She turned to Brynn with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind but since you and your guy are staying aboard the Mother Ship, Liv and I wanted to introduce you to some of our other friends.”

“We have a lot,” Olivia added. “It’s kind of like a Kindred wives club. We all get together once in a while for girl days.”

As she spoke, more women started coming in through the front door of her suite.

“Let me introduce you,” Sophie said. “That’s Lauren, the girl with the big tray of cupcakes—she runs a bakery here you’ll really want to visit. And there’s Frankie—her husband is a Switch Kindred which means they can jump into each other’s bodies…and that’s Elise—she and her hubby are usually out gallivanting around the universe but they’re back at the Mother Ship for a little while. And this is Kate—don’t get her confused with Kat. They both have red hair but Kate’s is curly and she’s itty bitty.” She smiled. “And that’s Mei-Li—her hubby was a Dark Kindred but he’s not anymore. And here’s…”

She went on introducing people as more and more women crowded into the suite. Brynn was certain there was no way she’d be able to remember them all—there were almost twenty of them! But she nodded and smiled and everyone seemed extremely friendly. Apparently they’d all made their way to the Mother Ship one way or another and Olivia and Sophia had welcomed them all and made them feel at home.

Brynn decided she liked them and liked being one of them. One of the brides of the Kindred, she thought and smiled to herself. She would have to tell Varin later. For now she was just happy being in her new home with her new mate and feeling safe and secure.

And why shouldn’t she feel secure? Sovereign X'izith was dead and without him the Hive had no direction. They would probably die off since there was no longer an evil king to implant grubs in hapless girls and make more of them.

Just the thought made her shudder and she pushed the mental images away. It was time to forget those awful thoughts—time to heal. Time to love and be loved now that she and Varin were safe here aboard the Mother Ship.

And that was exactly what Brynn intended to do.

Epilogue

The sentient healer which had been wakened from hibernation by the alarm scent checked again on the healing cocoon. It hung, dark gray and throbbing, like a huge, malignant fruit, from the ceiling of the healing chamber in the center of the Hive’s ship. It pulsed slowly, fed upon Blood Honey and the special healing mixture the healer himself secreted into it from time to time.

Within the layers of the cocoon something stirred. The healer twitched his antennae—perhaps the healing was nearly complete? It was time to check.

Peeling back layer after dry, papery layer he uncovered the bulbous head of the Sovereign. One eye was blank and blind—an empty socket—but the other moved alertly and the mandibles clicked inquiringly.

The healer clicked his own mandibles in return and secreted a healing paste which he regurgitated onto the blind eye socket. The eye would probably not recover full vision, although the limb the Sovereign had lost might be regrown in time.

The abdomen had been the most delicate area to heal—luckily the reproductive organs were higher up, in the thorax, so most of the damage had been simply to the soft tissue. The breeding barb was intact but future implantations would probably be severely painful, due to the twisted scar tissue growing over the wounded abdomen.

Such grave injuries would normally have spelled the end of a Sovereign of the Hive. But there were no royal grubs to take his place—and no leader capable of implanting females to form them either. Sovereign X'izith must be preserved, at least until he could implant a grub that would grow to take his place.

The curving mandibles opened.

“What…Where…?” Sovereign X'izith buzzed weakly.

“You are in the Hive’s main ship, my Sovereign,” the healer hummed, replying to the half-formed question. “You are healing.”

“And the ship itself?”

“Hidden from the Kindred within the Blind while we wait for your orders, my Sovereign,” the healer answered promptly.

“The girl…my Breeding Queen…”

“Lost, I am afraid, my Sovereign.” The healer bowed his head. “According to your designated worker she and the Kindred retreated to the Kindred Mother Ship which is nearly impregnable.”

“No!” The Sovereign gnashed his mandibles together angrily. “Do you know how long I searched to find her? To find one with the right DNA to become the host of the royal grubs? What am I to do now? How is my lineage to carry on? How can the Hive thrive and prosper when I am gone?”

“As to that, my Sovereign, there is some good news.” The healer groomed the Sovereign’s blind eye gently, smearing the healing goop into the empty socket with his antenna.

“What news could possibly compensate me for the loss of my Breeding Queen?” the Sovereign demanded. The cocoon shivered with his agitation.

“Do you remember the small blue and green world the Kindred of the Mother Ship are protecting?” the healer asked.

“Yes, of course—a world of fleshers, is it not?”

“Yes, they call it “Earth.” While you have been healing, we sent some of our smaller drone scouts to test the inhabitants and sample the atmosphere.”

“And? Do not keep me waiting!” Sovereign X'izith exclaimed peevishly.

“My Sovereign…” The healer paused for dramatic effect. “We found one of the Earth females who has the correct DNA for breeding. Not only that, there are probably more like her—maybe even many more.”

“For breeding common grubs, I take it,” X'izith grumbled. “What good is that to me? We need sentient workers to carry on the work of the Hive and we need a royal grub to become the new Sovereign after I am gone.”

“My Sovereign, you do not understand. What I meant was, the Earth female has the correct DNA to host royal grubs! And we conjecture there are many more like her—we just have to find them. As there are seven billion fleshers on the planet and over half of them are female, our odds of finding more Breeding Queens for you are extremely good.”

“What? Are you certain?” Sovereign X'izith’s antennae waved wildly in agitation.

“Beyond certain, my Sovereign. Each and every one of the almost four billion females can conceivably play host to common grubs and many more may host the royal ones. It is an embarrassment of riches!”

The healing cocoon rattled and shook with the Sovereign’s excitement.

“Think of the possibilities! No longer will the royal grubs have to fight and consume each other to see which one will control the Hive! With many Breeding Queens, we could colonize—there could be multiple Hives throughout the universe!”

“Truly it is an awesome thought,” the healer buzzed. “And my Sovereign—we have already found the perfect place to build a base while we wage war on the Kindred for control of the Earth. The fourth planet from the sun, the red one the Earthlings call “Mars” is cold and dry with perfect rock formations to tunnel into.”

“We can construct a base and keep it hidden until we are ready to attack.” Sovereign X'izith clicked his mandibles eagerly. “But first, I must implant a new brood of royal grubs. We must abduct the suitable female you have found that I may implant them in her.” His high, buzzing laughter filled the room. “We need only snatch her when the Kindred are not looking.”

“It shall be done, my Sovereign.” The healer bowed obsequiously, grooming his antennae. “The female shall be taken for implantation. That the Hive shall live forever.”

“The Nameless Ones, Gods of Nothing, grant it shall be,” X'izith said, his blind eye flashing in the dim light. “That the Hive shall live forever.”

The End…?

Ha—nope, there’ s always another Kindred coming. Look for Kindred 20 later on this year. And if you've enjoyed this book, please take the time to leave a review where you bought this. Good reviews are like gold for an author--they let other readers know it's okay to take a chance on a new book. Plus they give me the warm fuzzies. : ) Hugs and thanks for being an awesome reader! Evangeline

And now for a taste of my brand new series, Cougarville, in which all the heroines are over 40 but rejuvenate back to their twenties. How is that possible? Well, it has to do with a little something called the Shifter Gene…read on to find out more and get a little taste of Cougarville book 1, Buck Naked. ; )

Sadie Becker is starting a new life in the little town of Cougarville, North Carolina, far from her cheating ex. Having just turned forty, she longs for a quiet, peaceful place to live with no drama, no trauma, and no craziness.

She moved to the wrong town…

Cougarville Book 1

Buck Naked

Chapter One

“This isn’t right. This can’t be happening. What the hell is going on?”

Sadie Becker stood in front of the mirror on her fortieth birthday and stared at her reflection in disbelief.

Her boobs were getting firmer.

There was no doubt about it—it was true. She’d been noticing subtle differences ever since her divorce had been finalized about a week ago, but she’d put it down to the new diet and exercise routine. Now that her ex, Jeff, was out of her life, she was determined to start a whole new lifestyle. But no diet or exercise routine in the world completely erased stretch marks and molded your breasts back to where they’d been when you were in your twenties.

“Just look at them,” Sadie muttered to herself. “They’re actually perky.”

She wiped at the steam on the bathroom mirror and then decided she wasn’t getting a good enough look. What she needed was a full-length view. Luckily, there was an old fashioned, free standing mirror in her bedroom. The mirror had a carved wooden frame and claw feet which matched the rest of the antique furniture in the cabin she’d inherited.

The heavy carved oak furniture wasn’t much to Sadie’s taste but she wasn’t complaining. The cabin with its outdated furnishings and decorations had been a Godsend—an inheritance from her mother who’d been dead for twenty years. Sadie hadn’t even known the cabin existed until after her divorce, when her mother’s lawyer had handed her the deed.

She still missed her mom, even after all these years. She’d almost cried when she found out she had someplace to go. Someplace she wouldn’t have to see Jeff and his new, much younger girlfriend making a spectacle of themselves back in her hometown of Tampa. The only person she missed was her twin sister, Samantha—Sammie for short, but only to Sadie. No one else was allowed to call her by the cutsie nickname. But since Samantha was a busy trauma surgeon at Tampa General, it wasn’t like she had much time to hang out anyway.

Speaking of Samantha, she ought to call her twin—it was her birthday too.

I’ll call her in a minute, Sadie promised herself. First I need to figure out what in the world is going on with me.

Wrapping herself in a towel, she padded from the bathroom to the bedroom and stopped in front of the ancient free-standing mirror. There wasn’t quite enough light in the dark bedroom and the bedside lamp only made more shadows. With a sigh, Sadie dragged the mirror, creaking and protesting, over to the window and opened the curtains.

She wasn’t worried about anyone seeing her—the cabin was located in the Blue Ridge Mountains, about ten miles north of the tiny town of Cougarville, North Carolina. It was quiet and isolated with only one road going in and out and a single neighbor—a surly giant of a man named Mathis Blackwell who had wild, tangled black hair, a close clipped beard, and shoulders at least twice as broad as her own. Sadie had only seen him twice and both times he’d only grunted at her greeting and gone stumping off into the woods that separated his property from hers.

At night she could faintly see firelight flickering from his cabin windows, which looked warm and cozy and reminded her that it was cooler here in the mountains than it had been back home in Tampa.

No, this is my home now, Sadie reminded herself, frowning. Good old Cougarville.

The actual name of the town she’d moved to was North Lewiston, though there wasn’t any South Lewiston that Sadie could see. Scrawled in looping graffiti on the green welcome sign that led into town were the words, Welcome to Cougarville!!! The name had apparently stuck since everyone she’d met since she’d gotten here had welcomed Sadie to Cougarville, rather than North Lewiston.

Sadie was happy to be here—even if her new home was out in the sticks. In fact, she rather liked the solitude. It was different from the constant crawl of traffic on Dale Mabry highway in Tampa. Also, where else could she feel free to walk around naked if she wanted to and not worry about anyone seeing her? Couldn’t do that in the city!

As if to prove the point to herself, Sadie dropped her baby blue bath towel, letting it puddle around her feet, and took a really good look at herself in the mirror.

Sure enough, her breasts were definitely perky now. Perky like they hadn’t been since she’d breast-fed her twins almost twenty years ago. Graham and Anna—fraternal twins ran in Sadie’s family—had both gone off to college just a few months ago. Graham to MIT and Anna to Baylor, where she hoped to get into med school and become a doctor like her aunt Samantha. Sadie was immensely proud of both of them, though having two at the same time hadn’t been easy. How many times had she joked about her crazy twins giving her gray hair?

Speaking of gray hair…Sadie leaned forward, frowning at her face in the mirror.

“Where is it?” she muttered, turning her head from side to side. “Where’s my gray?”

The silvery strands that had begun showing up in her long, dark brown hair around her mid thirties were somehow gone, even though she was certain they had been there the night before. She’d even gone to the one and only convenience store in town to pick up a box of dye, meaning to cover them as usual. But now, if her mirror was to be believed, there was nothing to cover.

Not only that—her wrinkles were gone too! Or at least, they were fading. She could still see some tiny laugh-lines around her eyes but the really deep line—almost a furrow—that had crept up between her eyebrows over the years, was magically erased.

What the… Sadie turned in front of the mirror, trying to see what else had changed. Well, for one thing the little pooch of her belly was nearly flat and the old pregnancy stretch marks had been smoothed away. Her ass looked higher and firmer too. And her thighs were cellulite-free!

How could this be? How was it even possible?

Sadie took a step back and weighed her breasts in her hands, checking to be sure she wasn’t dreaming or imagining it. Nope—as firm as could be. She’d always been a full C cup when she was younger, but after having her kids and breastfeeding both of them, that C had become more of a droopy D. Now she was back to where she’d been in college, before she met Jeff and let him talk his way into her panties one night, ending her dreams of being a high-powered attorney when she found out she was pregnant with the twins.

What could be causing this? It was as if her body was magically reverting to where it had been in her early twenties. But that was impossible—right?

Just then she became aware of a movement outside her window. There was so much wildlife here—deer and birds and squirrels. Just last night she’d been sure she heard a wolf howling and maybe some kind of wild cat screaming. It was—

Sadie’s thought was cut off abruptly when she turned her head and saw it was no bird or squirrel looking in her window.

Her surly neighbor, Mathis Blackwell, stood about fifty yards away by the line of trees that separated their properties. He had an armful of firewood and a surprised expression on his face as he stared at the extremely naked Sadie who was still juggling her boobs in her hands.

“Oh my God! Oh, no!” she gasped, reaching down to grope blindly at the floor for her discarded towel. She wanted to look away from Mathis but for some reason, she found she couldn’t. Their eyes were locked together through the thin glass of her window as she scrabbled for the towel.

At last she found the towel, but she was so freaked out she couldn’t seem to get it wrapped around her body again. Instead she clutched it to her chest, her heart pounding as she continued to lock eyes with her neighbor.

Finally Mathis shook his head, like a man coming out of a dream, and gave her an awful scowl. Without a word—or another look—he turned and went stomping back to his side of the tree line, his broad shoulders hunched as though to ward off some kind of attack.

Sadie snatched the curtains closed and sank down on the big, old fashioned bed with its carved wooden posts, nearly hyperventilating.

God, what must he think of me? What did it look like I was doing? Nothing very nice, that was for sure! Ugh, how absolutely humiliating—to be caught by her nearest neighbor examining herself naked in the mirror and playing with her boobs!

Your only neighbor, whispered a little voice in her head. And there’s nobody else around to hear you scream if he decides what he saw was some kind of invitation.

Somehow, though, despite his wild appearance, Mathis didn’t strike her as the type to break into her cabin and hurt her. Not that knowing he probably wouldn’t try anything made her any less embarrassed. She still felt absolutely mortified to be caught in such a position, especially since she was usually a very modest person.

What’s wrong with me? My body is going through some bizarre change, I’m walking around in front of the window naked, I couldn’t look away when he was looking at me…I feel like I’m going crazy!

Sadie put a hand to her drumming heart, trying to still her rapid breathing. Okay. Everything was going to be okay. True, the thing with her neighbor seeing her naked was beyond awkward, but he didn’t seem to want to talk or be neighborly anyway. So maybe if she just avoided him for the rest of her life—

The shrill sound of her cell phone made Sadie jump. The Grey’s Anatomy ringtone was her twin, Samantha, probably calling to wish her a happy fortieth birthday.

Or maybe she had sensed something was wrong.

Sadie and Samantha weren’t identical twins—Sadie had brown hair and brown eyes and Samantha was blonde with blue. Sadie was a respectable five foot seven while her sister barely topped five three. Sadie, while never exactly skinny, was still more on the slim side, while Samantha was what she liked to call “curvy” with a defiant light in her blue eyes.

Because of their physical differences they’d never been able to switch places with each other and they didn’t have a secret twin language or anything weird like that, but they were pretty close.

Sadie could usually tell if something was wrong with her sister and Samantha seemed to know if there was anything amiss in her life as well. She’d called Sadie not five minutes after Jeff had shoved the divorce papers at her and stalked out of the house to be with his new girlfriend. Likewise, Sadie had called her sister just moments after their mother’s fatal car crash. Somehow they just knew.

“What’s wrong?” Samantha asked, the moment Sadie picked up the phone. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. I mean, I’m fine.” Sadie didn’t want to worry her twin—or tell her about the embarrassing incident with her neighbor seeing her naked.

“Bullshit.” Samantha was always frank and to the point—a byproduct of being a woman in a male-dominated field. “You’re freaking out about something—I can hear it in your voice. And, well, I felt it.”

It was the closest that the practical, down-to-Earth Samantha would come to talking about their invisible connection.

“I, uh…” Sadie didn’t know how to say it. Finally she asked, “Is there any kind of disease that makes you look younger?”

“A disease that makes you look younger?”

“I know it sounds weird,” Sadie said quickly. “It’s just…I woke up this morning and all my gray hairs are gone—just gone. And my wrinkles and stretch marks—they’re gone too. Not to mention my chest looks like I got a boob job and my tummy is flat for the first time in years.”

“So you lost some weight and you’re looking better? Sounds like a symptom of an ex-asshole-ectomy to me.” Samantha sounded like she was smiling.

“Stop it, Sammie—I’m being serious!”

“I am too! Of course you’re looking better—you finally got rid of Jeff! That asshole has been dragging you down for years.”

“Actually, he was the one who got rid of me,” Sadie reminded her. “Traded me in for a younger model.”

“So you do the same,” her sister shot back. “Look around for a little action in that tiny one-horse town you’re living in.”

“Sammie, I’m forty,” Sadie protested.

“So am I,” her twin reminded her dryly. “Forty isn’t dead. Why don’t you find somebody and have some fun? Aren’t there any hot guys around there?”

For some reason the image of Mathis and his intense stare popped into her mind but Sadie pushed it quickly away. Besides being a grumpy loner, her neighbor was also at least ten years younger than her. At least she thought he was—it was hard to tell with the wild black hair and the beard.

“Some,” she admitted. “But the ones my age are already married and taken. And all the rest are too young.”

“Please—who cares about age?” Her sister made a raspberry sound on the other end of the phone. “It’s just a number.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Sadie asked. “Besides, you’re one to be talking about finding a guy—you’re married to your work. I bet you can’t even tell me the name of the last guy you slept with.”

“It has been a while,” Samantha admitted. “But that’s only because I’m always so busy. You, on the other hand, suddenly have some time to get busy.”

“I came out here to heal,” Sadie pointed out. “Not find a hot young guy to screw my brains out.”

“Who says they’re not the same thing?” Samantha laughed. “So how’s the cabin mom left you? I still can’t believe she kept it secret from us for all those years.”

“It’s nice,” Sadie said, looking around the bedroom. “It’s kind of old and antiquey but not in a bad way. And it’s really quiet—at night you can hear all the animals moving around in the woods outside. And…” She winced. “There are, uh, plenty of windows. Lot’s of natural light.”

“I bet it’s gorgeous.” Samantha sounded wistful. “You almost make me want to cancel the hip-nailing I have scheduled today and come see it.”

“Come any time,” Sadie told her sister. “You know mom didn’t just leave it to me. She said in the letter that came with the deed it was for both of us, if we ever lost our husbands and needed a place to stay.”

“She’d probably be disappointed I never got a husband to begin with,” Samantha remarked.

“No, she wouldn’t! She’d be incredibly proud of you for fulfilling your dream instead of getting pregnant before you even got through college.”

It was an old sore spot with Sadie. She loved her sister dearly but she couldn’t help being a little jealous sometimes. They had both had big plans after high school but Samantha had made hers a reality while Sadie had wound up staying home to raise the kids. She had gone back when they were teenagers to get a degree in accounting, but being an accountant was a far cry from the high-powered corporate attorney she’d dreamed of becoming.

“Are you kidding?” Samantha said. “She’d love you for giving her grandkids instead of wasting your best baby-making years in school.”

“It’s not too late if you want to start a family,” Sadie pointed out. “Women are having babies into their forties now—you know that.”

Samantha snorted. “Not this woman. You know I love Graham and Anna but being the cool aunt is as close to motherhood as I ever want to come.”

“I don’t know…rocking them to sleep, soothing them and feeling them snuggle up in your arms…” Sadie sighed. “Babies are sweet. It’s just too bad they grow up so fast.”

“You sound like you want another one yourself,” Samantha remarked.

Sadie shook her head, even though her sister couldn’t see her.

“Nope, my baby-making days are done. And so are my man-chasing ones. I just want to settle down in this little town and make a new life for myself. One without any trauma or drama or craziness—you know?”

Of course, she hadn’t made a very good start to her resolution—flashing her neighbor before breakfast—but that had been an accident. And what she told her sister was honestly what she wanted—just a quiet life by herself.

“I can do without the drama but without the trauma I’d be out of a job,” Samantha said. “Speaking of which, they just brought in an emergency trauma consult. Looks like another kid jumped off a trampoline and landed wrong—might be a broken femur. I’d better go.”

“Okay. Well thanks for calling. And happy birthday,” Sadie said.

“Happy birthday to you. Go have fun for both of us—looks like I’m going to be in the OR all day.” Samantha didn’t sound unhappy about it. She loved her job with a passion.

“Talk to you later and come up to see the cabin anytime,” Sadie told her.

“Soon, I promise. But not until after my lecture at the Trauma Surgery seminar in Las Vegas. Sin City, baby—whoo-hoo! I might see action before you do after all.”

“I have no doubt you will,” Sadie said flatly.

Her twin laughed. “Either way it’s always fun to get away for a while—I’m looking forward to it. Oh, they’re calling me—I really have to go.”

“Have fun in Sin City,” Sadie told her, but her twin had already hung up.

With a sigh, she put the phone back down on her night table. She’d gotten up early with the intention of getting some exercise but the grandfather clock in the corner of the bedroom let her know it was time to get ready for work.

There was no time for breakfast either, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she had all the time in the world. She hadn’t wanted to bring perishables on the long move up from Florida so the only food in the house was an ancient, dusty box of Count Chocula breakfast cereal and a pack of Gatorade gum. Both items looked like they had been left over from the late seventies or early eighties, which was presumably the last time the cabin had been inhabited.

Sadie fully intended to go by the only grocery store in town—which happened to be a Piggly Wiggly—and do a full shop to stock up later. But for now, she was focused on her first day of work.

Going to the closet, she pulled out a modest business skirt and jacket combination. It might be overkill for her first day on the job but she wanted to look nice.

She frowned as she tried on a bra that no longer fit exactly right. Well, maybe Samantha was right and her body was just reacting favorably to her recent divorce from her ex. Maybe it was a—what did you call it? One of those things that happened to your body because of your mind? Oh right—maybe it was a psychosomatic reaction to getting away from Jeff.

Deep down, she had doubts about that but she refused to let them bother her. After all, she was looking and feeling better—why complain? Better to just try to make a normal life and routine for herself in Cougarville.

“No drama, no trauma, no craziness. Nothing but smooth sailing from here on out, Sadie,” she said, addressing her image in the mirror as she finished getting dressed.

Though she didn’t know it, she had never been more wrong in her life.

Chapter Two

Mathis Blackwell let out an irritated growl as he stomped back to his cabin and dumped the load of firewood he’d been carrying onto the neatly stacked pile on his front porch. Goddamnit—why couldn’t he get the image of his new neighbor out of his head?

He snorted. Like she was a real neighbor and not just a plant by Keller. The leader of the local Den was getting too fucking big for his britches lately but this was a completely unexpected tactic.

The cabin next to his land had been vacant for years—since before he’d bought the land, built his own cabin, and moved in. It had been held in trust by some unknown person who didn’t seem likely to ever appear, which was just the way Mathis liked it. The empty cabin and nonexistent neighbor had been one of the main selling points—the reason he’d bought his property in the first place, ten years ago after his mate had died.

Mathis winced. The thought of Kathleen was still painful, even after all this time. Remembering her was like poking a half-healed wound with a sharp stick. Some might say it was his own fault—that he never allowed the wound to heal. But his kind mated for life and he wasn’t about to forget his wife and his love for her just because she’d been gone for a while.

Which was one reason he was so pissed off about the show his neighbor had been putting on that morning. Damn it, he didn’t need to be thinking about that when his love had died with Kathleen.

Unbidden, his mind showed him the scene that was burned into his brain. His new neighbor’s full, lush curves and the long dark hair that fell in a rippling waterfall down to the small of her back… her big brown eyes… the way she’d been cupping her full breasts, almost like she was offering them…

He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to push the image away. This was it—the last straw. Keller had been angling for a fight for a long time, trying to find a way to annex Mathis’s land, which bordered the other Alpha’s hunting grounds. But this…this was a really low blow.

Mathis had always stoically ignored the other male’s goading, no matter how Keller needled him. Bucks were patient and slow to anger, unlike the yowling Cats overrunning the town. But damn it, this was too much. Planting a Juvie in the cabin right beside Mathis’s land to antagonize him was going a step too far.

At first he’d thought he could ignore her. And the two times she’d tried to speak to him, that was exactly what he had done. Just turned his head and kept on walking, even when she called his name.

Which was probably what had made her decide to put on that little “display” this morning. Just remembering it made his cock throb angrily in his jeans, like a clenched fist.

Probably wasn’t her idea. Keller probably put her up to it.

The little Juvie had probably told the other Alpha she was getting nowhere with Mathis, so Keller had told her to step up her game. Hence the little peep show, just at the time when he gathered firewood every morning.

The timing couldn’t have been worse. It was only days until the full moon and worse, it was early Autumn.

Rutting season.

Well, it’s not going to work., With angry movements, Mathis stripped off his jacket and stomping to clean his boots before walking into the snug bachelor cabin he’d built with his own hands. I don’t care how gorgeous she is—no fuckin’ Juvie is gonna mess with my head.

He walked through the living room and kitchen and headed straight for the bathroom with its huge soaking tub and stone walls. The tub in particular came in handy. Nights when he changed were always strenuous—shifting was painful and hard on the muscles. Come sunrise after he cantered home, he liked to draw a steaming hot bath and soak until he felt like himself again.

But it wasn’t a bath he was after now. Going to the medicine cabinet, Mathis opened it and took out a brown bottle half filled with gel capsules containing a brownish green powder. He dry swallowed one and then, after considering a moment, took another.

There—that should take care of business.

He leaned against the sink and waited for the anti-rut meds to work. Fiona ShadowTree, Cougarville’s resident pharmacist slash medicine woman, made them in her compounding pharmacy over on Main Street. The woman was half Irish, half Cherokee, and all witch, if you believed the rumors.

Mathis didn’t. Fiona might be a little mysterious at times but she was a damn fine pharmacist—the meds she’d made him had never failed. Not in the ten years since his Kathleen had died had he gone into rut. And he didn’t intend to break his record now.

Unfortunately, his cock had other ideas. An hour later, it was still hard, distracting him from the work he was trying to do on the latest project in his woodworking studio. It was a custom built rocking chair and the order was due soon—he had to get it done. But his damn libido kept distracting him.

Mathis laid down his tools and stared at his crotch, frowning. Fiona’s medicine had never failed him before. In fact, it usually took only about ten minutes to work. What the hell was going on?

He went back to the medicine chest and looked at the plain brown bottle. Well, these were left over from last season. Maybe they’d lost their effectiveness.

Only that had never happened before. What if they weren’t going to work this time? Fiona had warned him repeatedly about flouting the will of Lady Moon but Mathis had always ignored her—he didn’t believe in that mystical mumbo-jumbo. Sure, a lot of shifters believed there was a higher power—usually connected to the moon—that watched over them but he’d never seen any evidence of such an entity.

If there was a Lady Moon, where had she been when his Kathleen got sick? When the doctors couldn’t save her? Where was the miracle he’d begged and prayed for? The moment his mate had died, any faith he’d ever had had died with her.

And I’m not going to start being superstitious now, Mathis shoved the pills back. It’s that damn Juvie—she’s the reason I’m having this fucking problem.

He thought of her again—her firm, high breasts and long brown hair. And most of all the enticing scent that wafted from her cabin to his, calling to him like a genie let out of a bottle, promising to grant his every sexual wish. God, it was fucking indecent the way she paraded around, letting her scent out in public like that. And it was only getting worse—stronger as the full moon got nearer.

It was enough to drive any male crazy and it was all Keller’s fault.

Well, if it didn’t let up, Keller was going to get the fight he’d been spoiling for. The Cat had better beware. Giant Elk might be herbivores and thus slower to anger than carnivore shifters, but once you got one roused, you were calling down the wrath of God on yourself. Or at least, the wrath of a nine foot tall, fifteen hundred pound Buck. Add razor sharp hooves and a twelve foot rack of antlers into the equation and you had a threat not even the most intrepid predator would care to face.

As Mathis threw another log on the fire and watched the sparks fly upward, he swore to himself that Keller was going to be sorry he’d pulled this move.

Very fucking sorry indeed.

Want more yummy Shifters and rejuvenated heroines? Of course you do--you can preorder Buck Naked NOW and it will show up on your reader on April 4th. Cougar Bait is also available for preorder NOW and it will show up in early May. And if you want to know more about the Shifter Gene and how it works, here's a little explanation…

Cougarville Series Blurb…

Ladies, how would you like to have the body you had back in your early twenties? Would you like to watch your wrinkles magically disappear and your stretch marks fade away to nothing? What about losing that last ten pounds of baby weight or getting rid of those pesky bifocals?

Well you can have all this and more…if you have the Gene.

The Shifter Gene, that is. It’s extremely rare—only one in ten thousand women have it. Fewer still will actually manifest it. That’s because the Shifter Gene is completely dormant until a female reaches her late thirties or early forties. Even then, if she has a husband or a boyfriend she’s sleeping with regularly, the gene will lie silent and undiscovered in her DNA.

But in cases of death, divorce, or desertion, with no male influence to stop it, the Gene becomes active in a big way. Within weeks breasts become firmer and higher, aches and pains fade away, and all signs of aging disappear. The female with the activated Gene becomes Rejuvenated—what Shifters call a “Juvie.” She’s now incredibly fertile and desirable—every male Shifter who gets close enough to smell her scent will crave her.

Unfortunately, all this Rejuvenation comes with a price tag—the need to breed. Once a female finishes the process, she’ll go into heat, craving sex with a young, strong male as never before, because only a female who has gone through Rejuvenation will be able to bear children who also have the Gene.

To make things even more complicated, the kind of Shifter male who claims her will determine what kind of Shifter she herself becomes and what kind of children she will bear. The rarity and intense desirability of Juvie females brings out the possessive instincts of Alpha Males everywhere, who will fight to the death to claim their True Mate and mark her with their seed.

Among Shifters, passion and procreation are the name of the game and the price for failing to play it right is death.

Welcome to Cougarville…do you have the Gene?

Keep reading to

Meet the Cougarville Shifters…

Mathis Blackwell…this gruff but sexy Buck Shifter has a tragedy in his past that makes him reluctant to love again. But then Sadie comes into his life and damned if the little Juvie isn't driving him wild…

Buck Naked preorder now.

***You can find the Book trailer for Buck Naked HERE but read about the other sexy Shifters first ; )

Liam Keller…this Cougar Shifter seems to have it all, wealth, power, success…but what he lacks is a Juvie female to fall in love with who wants to have his babies. Enter Samantha, Sadie's sister who's a successful trauma surgeon and is most definitely NOT interested in baby making. But never say never when the Shifter Gene is involved…

Cougar Bait preorder now.

Reese Cooper…this Fox Shifter never thought he'd find the right girl…then Jo shows up, crying in his garden shed. She's a Third Degree Wiccan and she just turned forty-two…but now she looks twenty all over again. Suspected of working dark magic, she's kicked out of her home coven. And because she has no way of knowing about the Rejuvenation process, she's become one of the Unformed…a Shifter female with no male to ease her lust and no animal to Shift to during the full moon. Can Reese help Jo discover her true form or will he lose his heart to her forever?

Stone Cold Fox coming August 2017…

Also by Evangeline Anderson

Brides of the Kindred books (in order)

Claimed (also available in print and audio)

Hunted (also available in print and audio)

Sought (also available in print and audio)

Found (also available in print and audio)

Revealed (also available in print)

Pursued (also available in print)

Exiled (also available in print)

Shadowed (also available in print)

Chained

Divided

Devoured (also available in print)

Enhanced

Cursed

Enslaved

Targeted

Forgotten

Switched (also available in print)

Uncharted (also available in print)

Unbound (also available in print)

Mastering the Mistress (A Brides of the Kindred novella)

Alien Mate Index Series

Abducted: (also available in print)

Protected: (also available in print)

Descended: (also available in print)

Severed: (also available in print)

Cougarville series

Buck Naked (coming April 2017)

Cougar Bait (coming May 2017)

Stone Cold Fox (coming August 2017)

Stand Alone Novels

Purity (also available in audio)

The Institute: Mishka's Spanking

The Academy (YA novel)

Hunger Moon Rising

Cougar Christmas

Planet X (also available in audio)

Born to Darkness Paranormal series

Crimson Debt (now available in audio)

Scarlet Heat (now available in audio)

Ruby Shadows (now available in audio)

Cardinal Sins (coming soon)

***The above books are just a small sample of Evangeline's work. For a complete list of books from all publishers, please visit her website***

About the Author

Evangeline Anderson is the New York Times and USA Today Best Selling Author of the Brides of the Kindred, Alien Mate Index, 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 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

- Chapter 35

- Chapter 36

- Chapter 37

- Chapter 38

- Epilogue

- Cougarville 1: Buck Naked teaser

- Meet the Shifters of Cougarville

- Also by Evangeline Anderson

- About the Author

- Newsletter Sign Up

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

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Epilogue

Cougarville 1: Buck Naked teaser

Meet the Shifters of Cougarville

Also by Evangeline Anderson

About the Author

Newsletter Sign Up