Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Other Titles

Alien Hope

Alien Invasion Book 5

Honey Phillips

Copyright © 2019 by Honey Phillips

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author.

Disclaimer

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design by Pro Book Covers Studio

Edited by Nikki Groom @ Indie Hub Editing Services

Chapter One

“Are you sure about this, M’lan?”

Emlan met her father’s eyes in the mirror and smiled. His eyes were so much like her own, green and gold striations flaring out from slit pupils. Unlike the small black horns currently concealed beneath her veil and the black nails covered by pink polish, her eyes could never be disguised—a constant reminder of her mixed heritage.

“It’s been ten years, Daddy. I want a family, I want children. I have to move on with my life.”

“But a human? How will he care for you?” T’lan growled as he paced the length of her bedroom again, his much larger horns almost brushing the ceiling. No matter how much he loved her mother, and no matter how closely he worked with other humans, she knew he still thought that human men were weak and untrustworthy.

“We’ll be just fine. You know Harvey is a good man.” And he was—a quiet, intense man who would never demand more from her than she had to give. A man who accepted her exactly as she was, and for the first half-human, half-Yehrin child ever born, that was a true blessing.

“Perhaps,” her father reluctantly agreed. “But he is not a warrior.”

“No.” There was only one warrior she would ever want, and he was gone. How could that pain still be so sharp after so many years? She still felt his presence like a small ember deep inside her, but she’d had to accept the fact that he had died, that he would only ever live on in her mind and heart. The familiar tears started to rise.

“Daddy, please. I need your support today.”

“I am sorry, M’lan. You know I only want your happiness.”

“I know.” She made the final adjustments to her makeup and stood up. “How do I look?”

“As beautiful as your mother,” he said sincerely, and she blushed.

Her mother was tiny and blonde and voluptuous enough that her father spent a lot of time growling at other males when they cast admiring looks in her direction. Emlan had inherited her curly blonde hair, but she had been a gangly teenager who’d grown into a slender woman of average height. If not for her Yehrin heritage, she doubted anyone would have given her a second look.

Except Harvey, she thought fondly. They had been lab partners in freshman biology, and she had suspected he had been more attracted by her ability to dissect a frog than her looks. They shared almost every class and he had rapidly become a close friend. Despite her numerous rejections, he gently but persistently continued to ask her out throughout their college years. After they graduated, they both decided to pursue a career in interstellar business. She had been eager to leave Earth and the constant reminders of her mixed heritage. He had never specifically told her why he chose to leave, but he seemed just as eager.

As they were often the only humans on whatever planet they were assigned, they grew even closer and it was perhaps inevitable that over time she softened towards him and eventually agreed to go on a date. It had taken an entire year of dating before she felt comfortable enough to kiss him, but he had waited just as patiently. And finally, three years later, they were getting married.

She could picture him now, pacing nervously in the garden of her father’s official residence in Washington D.C., probably pushing his glasses up his nose. She hadn’t been able to bear the thought of getting married in their real home in New Haven, the home where Tren had been so much a part of her life for so long. A lump swelled in her throat. She had dreamed of him last night—dreamed that he was alone and calling for her. Guilt, she reminded herself. Just the endless guilt of having driven him away with her foolish teenage lust.

“Aren’t you ready yet?”

Her twin sisters, Lillie and Leslie, burst into the room with their usual enthusiasm, thankfully distracting her from her memories.

“Oh, you look beautiful!” Lillie exclaimed.

“Gorgeous,” Leslie agreed. “But perhaps just a little darker lipstick… I have the perfect shade.”

Leslie started digging through the small sparkly lavender purse that matched her gown. The only exterior signs of her Yehrin heritage was the almost silvery whiteness of her complexion and her long dark hair. Both of her sisters easily passed as fully human and Emlan fought back the familiar twinge of jealousy. Everything came so easily to the twins and she loved them enough to be truly grateful for that—but sometimes, it was a little difficult. It didn’t help that other than their coloring, they were identical to their mother and had inherited her lush figure and bubbly personality. Emlan sometimes felt rather like the ugly duckling that had never quite become a swan.

“Girls,” T’lan said firmly. “M’lan doesn’t need anything else. Is everything ready?”

“Lizzie is late,” Lillie pouted. “I wanted to see the twins. It’s been years!”

He laughed. “More like six months. And you know she often gets tied up in negotiations.”

“But it’s Emlan’s wedding day.”

“I’m sure she’ll be here as soon as she can. Is your mother ready for us to start?”

“Oh, you know Mama. She’s too excited to stand still. If it was up to her, the wedding would be over and Emlan and Harvey would be on their honeymoon already.”

Everyone laughed, and Emlan successfully hid her wince. Why wasn’t she more enthusiastic about her wedding night? She loved Harvey, she really did, and she had come to accept kissing him, but the thought of losing her virginity to him still seemed wrong.

Stop that, she told herself. He’s gone. You have to accept it and move on.

Perhaps she hadn’t been as successful as she had hoped because her father frowned at her, his horns lowering over his forehead. She tried her best to give him a reassuring smile and stood up.

“Then let’s get started before Mama dies of impatience.”

“Oh, your dress is so pretty,” Lillie said, and Leslie nodded enthusiastically.

Emlan looked at herself in the full-length mirror and couldn’t resist a satisfied smile. The long column of creamy satin suited her slender figure and her small breasts made the low-cut top and open back elegant rather than seductive. The long flowing veil had belonged to her grandmother Pearl. Another lump threatened to appear in her throat. She still missed her wise, funny grandmother.

Tribs, the Anderian sekhmet who had been with her for her entire life, whisked into the room. He was starting to show some silver threads in the deep purple mop of his coat, but his six little legs churned as enthusiastically as always.

“I’m so glad you decided to make Tribs your ring bearer,” Leslie giggled.

“It seemed appropriate.” She picked up her simple bouquet of lilies and took a deep breath. “Shall we go?”

The twins squealed and headed for the door. Her father came over and tucked her hand in his arm. He tried to clear the frown from his face, but she knew him so well that it was a futile attempt. She put her hand over his. There was nothing that either one of them could say.

Just as they turned to follow her sisters, Lizabet appeared in the doorway. The outspoken redhead was still dressed in the traditional Icluthian gown she wore when conducting negotiations between the Yehrin and the Icluthians, the reptilian race of one of her mates. A little surprised that Lizabet hadn’t changed into human clothing, Emlan came to an abrupt halt when she saw Lizabet’s face.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Lizabet opened her mouth, then closed it again, her gaze flitting from Emlan to T’lan as she nervously chewed her lip.

“I’m not even sure if I should be telling you this now, but if it was me, I would want to know.”

“Know what?” T’lan demanded impatiently, but Emlan swayed.

She clutched his arm, her eyes fixed on Lizabet’s face.

“It’s Tren, isn’t it?”

Lizabet nodded. “The fleet intercepted a small flyer leaving the Quatar system. T’renan’s alive, Emlan.”

Her father’s arm came around her even as he swore in Yehrin, but Emlan barely heard him over the ringing in her ears. The room began to spin around her.

“Tren,” she whispered, and then the darkness took her.

Chapter Two

Two weeks earlier

T’renan kept his back to the open cavern that formed the center of the mine and pretended to be asleep as the two Quataran guards exchanged casual greetings. They laughed and swore jovially before one guard clapped the other one on the back and headed for the surface. The morning ritual rarely varied which gave him a small shred of hope that this effort would finally succeed. Every muscle in his body tensed as he heard Cerdon approach his cell, but he forced himself to keep still.

“Get up, Yehrin. Lots of rocks to be hauled today.”

He didn’t move and the guard swore again, not so jovially. “Get up, you lazy bastard.”

When T’renan didn’t respond, Cerdon reached through the bars with his shock stick and poked him in the lower part of his back, sending a shockwave of pain through his body. The years of training his body to accept the pain were successful—he managed to keep his body still and not react.

“Gods dammit. The last thing I need is for another one of you bastards to die on me.”

Cerdon opened the cage door and stepped inside. T’renan waited until he smelled the foul heavy odor of the male and heard the sizzle of the shock stick close behind him before he moved. Uncurling from his crouched position with a mere fraction of his former speed, he was still fast enough to catch Cerdon by surprise. His meekness over the past six months had paid off and the guard was not expecting the attack. The big male was as tall as T’renan and easily outweighed his current emaciated state, but T’renan managed to grab the hand holding the shock stick and keep it away from his body while his other arm went around the Quataran’s thick neck. Cerdon choked and scrabbled at T’renan’s arm with his two thick fingers but despite his size, his muscles were covered by a layer of fat and he had neither the skill nor the training to fight back without his weapons. The guard abruptly dropped the shock stick and tried to reach for the control on his belt to trigger the shock collar instead, but T’renan caught his arm and yanked it backwards instead. He heard it break just as the male stopped fighting and sagged forward.

Unwilling to trust the sudden limpness, he fumbled for the shock stick and pressed it against the guard’s body over and over until he could smell burning flesh. Cerdon still hadn’t moved. He tested for a pulse in the thick pink neck but couldn’t detect a beat. Grim satisfaction filled him—Cerdon wouldn’t torture him again. Only one more thing remained. He dug under the guard’s collar and found the necklace—his necklace. As soon as he fastened it around his own neck, he breathed a sigh of relief. Finally.

Also removing the guard’s belt, he rolled him towards the back of the cell and threw the meager blanket over him. It wouldn’t fool anyone for long, but it might provide a few extra minutes before anyone noticed the escape. He pulled himself to his feet, his body still shaking from the combination of adrenaline and the lingering effects of the shock stick. As he reached the entrance to the cell, a large head slipped beneath his outstretched hand.

“Good girl, Budra.” He scratched the thick fur at the base of the crileth’s head spikes.

The crileth were used by the Quatarans to guard the mines. Stocky beasts with dark mottled fur and a vicious spiked crest running from their heads to their barbed tails, they were allowed to roam freely during the night shift and were trained to attack anything that moved. Given their vicious treatment by the guards, that would no doubt have included attacking their captors, but they too were controlled by shock collars. T’renan had found Budra as an abandoned pup, crying by the body of her mother. Unable to resist the helpless creature, he had saved her, keeping her concealed in his tunnel until she was large enough to pass for one of the guard animals.

He hadn’t realized at the time how much he would come to depend on her as his sight slowly faded. All this time in the dimness of the mines, plus some lingering damage from when he was first captured, had reduced his vision to the point where he existed in the shadowy world of grey and black.

“Are we ready, Yehrin?”

The deep growl came from the cell at the entrance to the next tunnel. They were the only two prisoners left on this level. The others had either died or been moved to another level as the amount of horium in the tunnels diminished. From the conversations he had overheard, he suspected that they would also be moved shortly and that had been one of the reasons they had decided they couldn’t wait any longer.

He turned towards O’kami. His vision was too bad now to see the other male clearly, but he remembered only too well what the Vulfar looked like. The vision was burned into his memory. After his ship had been destroyed, he had awoken to find himself in their clutches as they had probed him for information about the Yehrin fleet. When he refused to talk, they had eventually given up and sent him to the mines. He knew the Vulfar were as tall as the Yehrin, but they had thick manes of fur cascading from their heads instead of horns. They had pointed ears, deadly fangs, and vicious tails and while he didn’t think they could win in a one on one match against a Yehrin warrior in good condition, he had been too hurt to fight successfully and they had easily defeated him.

The bitter memory made him long to ignore the other male and just continue with the escape on his own, but two things stopped him. The practical reason was because the Vulfar knew the codes to get them safely out of the system—assuming they could steal a ship. But more importantly, if perhaps foolishly, O’kami had been trapped in this hellhole with him for the past four years. They had developed a wary friendship and how could he leave anyone here to suffer, especially someone who had been subject to the same brutality that he had received?

With a sigh, he brought the guard’s utility belt up to his face, fumbling along the length until he reached the electronic keys. Unable to read the identifiers, he moved through all of them until he heard the click of the neighboring cell door unlatching. A moment later, O’kami appeared next to him. Budra growled, and he scratched soothingly at the base of her head spikes.

“Hush, girl. The mutt is acceptable.”

He caught a flash of white fangs, then O’kami took the belt. A few minutes later, his shock collar dropped free for the first time in ten years. He heard O’kami’s collar release next. He fumbled for Budra’s collar as well. It was inactive, taken from her dead mother but it helped her to blend in with the other crileth.

O’kami took him by the arm. “Let’s get going. We should have until the afternoon shift change, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

T’renan nodded and followed the Vulfar, gritting his teeth against the necessity of having a guide. He had managed to keep the guards unaware of his worsening condition but O’kami had noticed and brought it up during one of their snatched opportunities to discuss the escape attempt. Budra prowled along next to him, and he felt her head moving from side to side as she inspected their surroundings.

He and O’kami had previously agreed that the freight elevator was the most optimal escape route—it was unmanned and operated on an automatic frequency. Based on what they had heard over the years, the exit where it dumped waste rubble outside of the mine was not guarded. As they drew closer, he could see the red blur of the countdown clock over the entrance, but he could not read the numbers.

Gritting his teeth, he asked, “How long?”

“Ten minutes. You timed the attack perfectly.”

The elevator carriage consisted of a large open bucket, set just below the floor surface to make it easy to dump the rubble into the shaft. O’kami jumped in and while T’renan could tell that his head was now at waist level, he couldn’t make out the details of the interior. Before he could reluctantly ask for help, O’kami spoke.

“The base is about four feet below you. If you jump straight down, there are no rocks.”

With a muttered thanks, he jumped. He could see a blurred surface beneath him, but he had no sense of perspective and it was hard to know when to brace himself for the landing. One foot landed slightly ahead of the other and he stumbled, but O’kami was there to catch his arm. A moment later, Budra jumped lightly onto the rocks next to him and he felt her head nuzzle his waist.

“Are you sure you want to bring that animal with you?”

“Yes,” he said shortly.

He hadn’t raised her from a pup to abandon her now. What’s more, he suspected that he would continue to need her to help guide his steps, although he saw no reason to discuss that factor with O’kami. Now there was nothing to do but wait. The adrenaline surging through his body made it hard to stand still but there was no room to pace and little reason to do so. He closed his hand over his necklace. Emlan.

“What is that?” O’kami asked. “I saw you take it from that bastard Cerdon.”

“It is mine.”

“I assumed it was.” When T’renan didn’t respond, O’kami snorted. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

He shrugged. He had never been one for idle conversation but after all these years without anyone with whom to talk, the words had dried up inside him. His brief conversations with the Vulfar over the past few years as they planned their escape were the only times he had spoken to anyone since he had been captured.

Budra whined softly and rubbed her head against his arm. He winced as the sharp spikes abraded his skin, but he was still grateful for the warmth and comfort that she provided.

“Did you kill him?” O’kami was obviously referring to the guard.

“Yes.”

The act had not provided as much satisfaction as he had expected. Cerdon had been one of the main guards to torture him over the years—doing everything from withholding his food to whipping his back so deeply that he would never lose the scars—but most significantly, he had taken his necklace. Although Cerdon had never been able to open it, he’d continue to wear it, taunting T’renan with its presence around his neck. Having it back where it belonged made him feel as if he had recovered a part of him that had been lost.

Emlan, he thought again. How much would she have changed over the past ten years? She had just started to transition into maturity when he left. That blossoming had been what had driven him to leave. The realization that she was no longer a child but a female on the cusp of adulthood, one who realized that she wanted more from him but was too inexperienced to know what that meant. Was she still inexperienced? Did she think he had died? Had she found another male? The question haunted him. He knew she still lived—he could feel her presence like a tiny warm ember deep inside his hearts—but he didn’t know if the connection went both ways.

“Are you going home to someone?” O’kami asked as if he were reading T’renan’s thoughts.

The unexpected question surprised the truth out of him. “I hope so.” Perhaps softened by the memories of his L’chka, he added. “Are you?”

The Vulfar laughed bitterly. “Fuck, no. The female that I was to mate conspired with a rival clan to have me thrown in here. I should have known that the Quatarans couldn’t be trusted.”

The Quatarans were working with the Vulfar?

“I thought—”

The elevator rattled to life before he could continue. A gate slid down over the entrance to the shaft and the cart began to rise with a horrible screeching of wheels. Like everything else in this place, it was poorly maintained and on the verge of failure. Considering how much money the Quatarans must be making from the horium, they certainly didn’t believe in putting any of it back into the operation. But then again, slave labor was cheap, and accidents weren’t a concern unless they held up production.

As the cart began to slow again, he and O’kami both tensed. They were about to find out if the entrance was truly unguarded. He heard a low growl coming from Budra just as a sudden brightness made him flinch, the light too much for eyes that had not seen daylight in almost ten years. Before he could react, the gate opened and the cart tipped up, sending the three of them, plus the rocks that had accompanied them, tumbling down a long slope. Even though he could see nothing through the light assaulting his eyes, he heard Budra’s pained yelp and he used the sound to target her and pull her into the protection of his body. O’kami smashed into his leg a minute later and T’renan grabbed him as well. He did his best to protect the other two as they came to a crashing halt at the base of the slope. Fortunately, they were mostly on top of the rocks.

He ran a quick hand over Budra, checking for injuries and was relieved to find her intact. By the swearing coming from O’kami, he, too, was relatively undamaged. T’renan hadn’t received more than a few cuts and bruises. He had suffered far worse in the mines.

“All right?” he muttered at Okami.

“Yeah. What’s a few more bruises? That light is the killer though and it’s a cloudy day. From what I remember, it’s always cloudy on Quatar.”

“Never saw it.”

He had been taken straight from the Vulfar ship to the mines. As soon as he began to recover from his wounds, he tried to escape. The shock collar left him unconscious for almost a week. It hadn’t stopped him from trying, yet the unavailing attempts took their toll. Towards the end of the third year, he had descended into a depression so deep that even the thought of escape couldn’t rouse him. But then he had dreamed of Emlan. She had been sitting at the edge of the meadow that formed the center of their home community of New Haven, looking out over the rolling mountains. She had been crying, and she had called out his name. He had tried so desperately to go to her and only succeeded in waking up, still trapped beneath the earth in a rock cell. But this time, a new fire burned in his heart. She needed him and he was going to return to her.

Over the next few years, he experimented. He already knew that if he attempted to remove the collar it would shock him, but he discovered that by exposing himself to the pain, it was less intense than when a guard activated it. He began a routine. Every night after the lights were out, he shocked himself. He would often fall unconscious, especially at first, but eventually his system began to adjust to the shocks. Today, it had given him the control to withstand Cerdon’s attack and defeat the male. And he was one step closer to Emlan.

“Do you know where we are?” he asked quietly.

O’kami sniffed the air. “Not sure. But I can smell the fucking Quatarans. Base camp must be close.”

T’renan took a deep breath and to his surprise he could also detect the unpleasant scent. It appeared that his other senses were compensating for his poor vision. His eyes finally cleared enough to see the small amount he could detect of his surroundings. A blur of harsh grey and black rocks climbed up the hillside behind him, while in front of him there was only a vast emptiness. After ten years with a roof scraping his head and walls always close at hand, the emptiness made him shudder and a feeling of dizziness swept over him.

Determine to ignore it, he tilted his head, listening for any other clues as to their location. He finally caught what could be the low hum of an engine.

“Off to the right. I think I hear machinery.” He sniffed. “And perhaps, machine oil?”

O’kami gave a quiet wuff of approval. “Yeah, I got it too.” He hesitated. “Do you want to wait here?”

“No.”

“The ground is a little tricky—”

“No.” He wasn’t about to wait by himself at the edge of this vast space, unsure if anything approached.

“Suit yourself.”

Despite his obvious disapproval, O’kami didn’t race ahead and leave him but stayed a step or two in front of T’renan. Budra pushed back under his hand, guiding him as she had for the past year in the tunnel. Between the two of them, he only slipped once. He managed to catch himself but not before scraping his palm. Although he couldn’t feel any wetness, he didn’t want to take the chance. Reluctantly, he asked O’kami to check and make sure that he had not left a blood trail.

“Nope. Don’t worry about it,” O’kami said cheerfully. “I’m leaving enough blood for both of us.”

Now that he was checking for it, he caught the musky metallic tang.

“You are bleeding.”

“No shit. Cut my leg open on that fall. No point in worrying about it, if they come looking for us, they’ll know there’s no other place for us to go. They’ll know we would head for the landing field.”

Beneath the cheer, T’renan could detect a note of strain. Despite O’kami’s attempt to be casual, he suspected that the male was hurting. His suspicions were confirmed as the Vulfar began to slow. He started to speak, but O’kami clapped a hand over his mouth.

“The field is on the other side of this outcropping,” he whispered.

T’renan nodded.

“I’m going to climb up a few feet and see what’s out there. Pray to whatever gods you believe in that there is a ship we can steal.”

Chapter Three

Present

When Emlan swam back into consciousness, a sea of concerned faces gathered over her. Both of her parents were there, although not her sisters. T’gaira, the grizzled old Yehrin warrior assigned as her bodyguard, scowled from his position by the window. Harvey hovered anxiously, twisting his hands. She ignored all of them and focused on Lizabet, now flanked by her Yehrin and Icluthian mates.

“Tren? You said he is alive?”

Lizabet nodded. “They intercepted a small Vulfar flyer just outside the Quatar system. He’s lucky that they didn’t just blow it to pieces.” At Emlan’s cry, she winced. “I’m sorry. It’s just that the situation in that sector continues to be unstable. Whenever we think we’ve made inroads in negotiating with the Vulfar, they attack. I don’t understand it. They suffer much more than we do from those attempts.”

“I don’t care about the Vulfar,” she said impatiently. “What about Tren? Is he safe? When will he be here?”

“Who’s Tren?” Harvey asked quietly, and the room went silent.

She bit her lip. “You remember I told you that there had been someone in my past?”

“You said that he had died.” He peered at her from behind his glasses, and she could see the hurt on his face.

“I thought he had. And I know you deserve an explanation. But first, I just have to know if he safe.” She gazed imploringly at Lizabet.

“He is alive, but he is not… undamaged.”

“What? What is it?” Her hands fisted.

“His sight has been severely compromised,” Lizabet said softly.

All of the warriors in the room stiffened. She knew how much their ability to fight mattered to them, but it didn’t matter to her. As long as he was alive, that was all she cared about. She could see her mother and father exchanging worried looks. Lizabet’s mates, T’kol and Hisst, were also exchanging glances, but she ignored all of them and kept her focus on Lizabet.

“Is he coming here? Do I need to go to him?”

Harvey made an abortive movement and she winced. What was she going to tell him? There was no question of marrying him now.

“I don’t know,” Lizabet said. “It is my understanding that the medical team does not want to release him, although T’lan could undoubtedly persuade them.”

“Then he can come back home,” she said eagerly.

Lizabet looked up at T’kol and he put a comforting hand on her shoulder, then studied Emlan’s face.

“You are the daughter of the Supreme Commander of Earth,” he said finally.

“I don’t understand what that has to do with it. If anything, that should make it easier to get him back here.” She gave her father an imploring look. “You can make it happen, can’t you, Daddy?”

This time her father was the one to hesitate.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” her mother said. She pushed T’lan aside and sat down on the bed next to Emlan, taking her hand. “What everyone is afraid to tell you is that Tren was told that you were getting married. He hasn’t spoken since.”

“But surely he must know…” Her voice trailed off as she looked at Harvey. She couldn’t put it off any longer. “Can you all give me a few minutes alone with Harvey?”

Another round of concerned looks, but her friends and family started heading for the door. Before she stood up, her mother leaned closer, enclosing Emlan in the warmth of her embrace as she whispered in her ear.

“I’m so happy for you, sweetie.”

She managed a shaky smile at her mother as she left. T’gaira was the last to leave, scowling at Harvey as he reluctantly departed. Honestly. He had never cared for her fiancé—her soon-to-be former fiancé—and had made little attempt to conceal his feelings over the years.

“Emlan, I don’t understand. I’m happy that your friend is alive, but this is our wedding day.”

“I know, Harvey, and I’m so sorry. But I can’t marry you now.”

Something close to rage burned in his eyes then disappeared as she drew back in shock. She had never seen him look like that before.

“You said you loved me,” he said urgently, once more looking like the man she knew so well. “We are getting married today.”

“I do love you, Harvey. But I have loved him so much longer. It’s like he’s a part of me.”

“You haven’t seen him in ten years. How can you know he hasn’t changed?” He paced to the window and stood staring out at the garden below, his tall thin frame taut with nerves.

“I’m sure he has. I’ve changed too. But I know his feelings haven’t changed.”

“He abandoned you, Emlan! He’s been off gallivanting around the universe while I’ve been here with you every day.” He turned back to her, his eyes imploring. “I’ve been waiting for you for eight years—since the first time I saw you in biology.”

He knelt next to her and took her hands and she had to fight the urge to snatch them away.

“This was supposed to be our wedding night.”

She couldn’t suppress the shudder quickly enough and his face hardened.

“Or was it? Were you ever going to give it up to me, you teasing little bitch?”

Emlan drew back as if she had been slapped, wrenching her hands away. He looked almost as appalled.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from. Please, please forgive me.”

“Of course, I forgive you,” she said sincerely. “It’s been a shock, I know. And Harvey, I know this isn’t fair to you, but I have to go to him.”

Expressions passed across his face too quickly for her to read, but then he bowed his head. “I understand. Can I… can I kiss you goodbye?”

Her instincts protested, but she nodded. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, at first gently and reverently. Any pleasure she had felt from his kiss in the past had departed but she didn’t protest. Then his mouth hardened, and he pried at her lips with his tongue, trying to force his way inside. She reared back and caught him off guard enough that she could shove him away.

“You need to leave, Harvey. Now.”

“I’m sorry. I…” He gave her a sheepish, desperate look, but her sympathy had vanished.

“Please leave.”

To her relief, he got to his feet and headed for the door. He paused in the opening. “I will always love you, Emlan.”

When she didn’t respond, he sighed and left, closing the door behind him. She scrubbed impatiently at her lips, feeling guilty and unclean. How had she never seen the signs that he could behave so horribly? Then she sighed. Perhaps she was being too harsh. The news must have come as a shock to him and she could forgive him for acting so uncharacteristically.

When the door opened, she tensed but it was only her father.

“The human left.” He studied her face. “How did he take the news?”

“Not well, but I can’t blame him.” She gave him a rueful smile. “This was supposed to be his wedding day.”

T’lan came over and put his arm around her. “I am sorry, my daughter, but I do not believe you would ever have been truly happy with him.”

“I think I could have had a peaceful life with him.” Although she was no longer quite as sure as she had been. “But now, I know I can have more. How quickly can I get to Tren?”

Chapter Four

Two weeks earlier

T’renan crouched behind the meager concealment of the outcropping, trying to suppress his shivering. The rocks were even colder than the frigid air. Budra whined softly and pressed up against his legs and T’renan put a soothing hand on her back. From what he could tell, the crileth blended into the mottled landscape of Quatar, her shaggy fur the same greys and blacks as the surrounding terrain. The spikes that lined her skull and grew along her back could have been part of the jagged rocks surrounding them. He strained all of his senses, listening for any signs of an alarm, any indication that their escape had been discovered, but all he could hear was the whistling of the wind.

As he waited for O’kami to return, T’renan hoped that he had not been mistaken in the other male. When O’kami first arrived, four years ago, he had been shocked to see a Vulfar in the mines. The Vulfar had been the major threat in the sector since before T’renan had been taken and he had not forgotten nor forgiven his time in their hands. After catching sight of O’kami, he had spent a considerable amount of time, when he was not too exhausted to think, plotting a way to get his hands on the Vulfar.

However, the Quatarans were quite successful in keeping them apart and after a year of seeing the male suffering as much as he did, his thirst for vengeance began to subside. When they were placed in adjoining tunnels on this new level, he had been shocked when the Vulfar tried to communicate with him. It took several attempts before he realized that the low rhythmic tapping coming from the next tunnel was a message in the universal emergency language. Eventually, he gave in to curiosity and responded.

O’kami had immediately tried to talk him into a shared escape attempt. After seven years, T’renan had begun to wonder if he would ever succeed in escaping and the Vulfar’s enthusiasm gave new life to his dreams. For a long time, they had been stymied by the number of guards who were always present, but as the horium on their level became exhausted and the mining activities began to shut down, the number of guards also diminished. T’renan had eventually revealed his growing resistance to the shock treatment to O’kami, and O’kami had responded by sharing the schedule of ships arriving on Quatar. They eventually determined that the beginning of the winter season would be the best time to make an attempt. Fewer vessels would be landing so there would be less activity on the landing field, but the brutal winter would not have started, and they would still be able to exit the atmosphere safely. Of course, their plan assumed that there had been no significant changes while O’kami had been trapped in the mines.

While the temperature in the mines rarely changed, they had picked up enough from the guards’ conversations to make a rough estimate of the timing. This past six months, as they waited for the right moment, had seemed interminable. He had forced himself not to react, not to fight back, to present the cowed demeanor which they had never been able to force from him before. Every time he bowed his head and did as he was ordered, his pride suffered, but it had worked and for now at least, he was free.

No longer used to any variations in temperature, his body was having a hard time adapting to the frigid conditions of the surface, yet he wouldn’t trade one shivering moment above ground for the consistent atmosphere below.

Budra growled softly, just before he heard the faint clatter of rock. One hand on the shock stick, he prepared for an attack but a second later he caught O’kami’s familiar scent.

“It’s just like we hoped,” O’kami whispered, dropping down beside him. “Only four vessels on the field—one of the big transports, a merchant class, and two personal flyers.” Even with his dim vision, T’renan caught the flash of a white grin. “And one of the flyers is from Clan Fuchon.”

“So?”

“Those are the bastards who arranged to have me thrown in here. I think the least they can do is give me a flyer in return.”

“Will you know the codes?”

Another white flash. “Of course.” O’kami laughed dismissively. “Half the clans use the same coding sequence.”

T’renan started to climb to his feet, but the other male put a restraining hand on his arm. He fought back an impatient growl.

“We should go.”

“Believe me, Yehrin, I’m as anxious to get out of here as you are but not just yet. It’s cloudy, but not too cloudy for us to be seen.”

“They could sound the alarm at any moment,” he argued.

“They could,” O’kami agreed. “But we both know that no one is going to come down there until the shift change. And they’ll probably be late.”

T’renan knew that he was right—as a commander, he would never have tolerated the appalling lack of discipline exhibited by the Quatarans—but with freedom so close, he was impatient to get moving.

“There’s a fog coming in,” O’kami continued. “I can see it drifting across from the mountains now. If I calculate correctly, it should be here in less than an hour. Much easier to escape when no one can see you.”

“It is a risk to wait.”

“I prefer to think of it as a gamble.” Another white grin. “And I’m an excellent gambler.”

T’renan huffed but settled back against the rock. He was not a gambler; he had never seen any pleasure in subjecting himself to the whims of fate. But O’kami made a compelling argument. And as much as T’renan would have preferred charging across the landing field, eliminating any enemies in his way and seizing the ship, he was no longer the warrior he had once been. Stealth was the more practical approach.

Would Emlan care that he was no longer the same warrior, he wondered as they waited. No. He had considered the matter in the past, especially in those first dark days when he realized just how quickly his sight was deteriorating, but he had always concluded that she cared about him, not about his fighting skills. As they waited in the icy silence, he allowed himself to dream of that homecoming. In his imagination, he assumed that Yehrin technology would be able to repair his vision, even though he had never heard of such an operation. But even if he couldn’t see her, to be able to feel her against him, to smell her familiar scent, would make him whole again.

He was so lost in his dreams that he didn’t notice at first that his vision was dimming even further, his surroundings vanishing in a white haze. An almost forgotten thrill of excitement rose in his veins.

“Now?” he whispered.

“It might get thicker,” O’kami said. “But I’m with you. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

As they made their way silently across the vast landing field, the white cloud completely encompassed them, sending icy trickles down their exposed skin. Budra maintained her position at his side, helping to warn him of variations in the surface. He kept his senses attuned to their surroundings, but all he could detect was the distant stink of Quatarans. He only avoided bumping into a vessel when Budra came to an abrupt halt. O’kami was not as lucky and let out a stream of low-voiced curses as he collided with the metal surface.

“You cannot see, either?”

“Nah, but it’s all good. We can’t see them; they can’t see us. Reminds me of playing Blind Hunt with my brothers.”

O’kami’s voice receded as he followed the edge of the ship. “Yep, this is the personal flyer. Let’s go.”

With the low murmur of O’kami’s voice to guide him, T’renan found the ladder leading up into the vessel.

“Is there a landing ramp?”

“There should be, but it’s not down and we don’t have time to find the controls.”

Budra reared up and put her front paws on the ladder but even with her claws she would not be able to grip the rungs.

He bent down. “You are not going to like this, but it is the only way.”

With a quick heave, he tossed her up onto his shoulders. She yowled and clutched at him with her claws while he staggered under her weight.

“Keep that damn animal quiet,” O’kami hissed from further up the ladder.

He didn’t bother to argue that since the crileth were native to the planet he doubted that any guard would be alarmed. Instead, he gritted his teeth and began to climb. His muscles had been kept from deteriorating completely by the constant digging and hauling of rocks, but his overall condition had declined from the poor food and horrendous conditions. He struggled to balance Budra’s weight and his own as he climbed a thankfully short distance. Fortunately, she kept still during the climb. As soon as they reached the top, he released her. She swiped his face with a rough tongue, then mewled apologetically as she licked the wounds left behind by her claws.

“Can you close the hatch?” O’kami asked, and he managed to fumble his way through raising the ladder and sealing the entrance.

He joined O’kami on the small bridge just as the Vulfar gave a crow of delight.

“We’re in luck. This ship is supposed to leave today, although not until this afternoon. With any luck I can convince them that we have simply moved the schedule up.”

“Then let us leave.” His nerves were strung tighter than they had been throughout the entire escape. They were so close.

O’kami started the engines as he did a pre-flight check. A few minutes later, a voice came over the radio, demanding information. To T’renan’s astonishment, the Vulfar handled the conversation with ease. His voice changed to a lazy arrogant bark as if he were truly the spoiled heir to a great clan he was pretending to be. Within minutes, the Quataran was apologizing profusely and clearing their take off. Not long after that, they were rising up into the sky. For the first time in almost ten years he took a deep breath. He was free—free and heading home. To Emlan.

Chapter Five

Present

Emlan paced the cabin impatiently. Although her father had used his considerable influence to smooth the wheels, it had still taken two long days before they could arrange for her to travel to the medical station caring for Tren. T’lan had wanted to accompany her but to make arrangements to have his responsibilities covered would have taken even longer. In the end, he had sighed and agreed to entrust her to T’gaira’s care once more, even though Lizabet, T’kol, and Hisst were also going.

They had been traveling for almost a week now and would arrive tomorrow at the medical station where Tren had been taken. Somehow knowing that he was so close only made it more difficult. Even though she was too excited to sleep, she forced herself to lie down on the small bunk. But when she closed her eyes, all she could see was a parade of memories, all of them of Tren. He had been a part of her life for so long that until he left, she didn’t think she had passed a single day without his presence.

He had been her friend, her protector, her confidant. She had told him every thought that crossed her mind and he had always listened intently. He had never treated her as if she were a child.

She remembered that horrible year when she had started school in the human village below New Haven. Her horns and her eyes made her identity as the first human Yehrin hybrid only too obvious, and children could be very cruel. The teasing had been difficult, but she had kept her head up, until one day when several of her classmates cornered her on the playground. They had shoved her around, taunting her until she was in tears. When Tren picked her up, he had immediately known that something was wrong, but she had been reluctant to talk about it. Her parents were overwhelmed by the birth of the twins and she did not want to upset them. Tren had gently drawn the story out of her after promising not to tell them.

The next day, he stalked into school with her and made it very clear that no one was to bother her. The teasing stopped, and although eventually he stopped accompanying her, it had never resumed.

Throughout the years he had always been at her side. But the year she turned sixteen, something changed. She had been a late bloomer, not really developing until she started high school. But when her body finally began to change, when for the first time her hormones begin to react, she was suddenly overwhelmingly conscious of Tren—not as her friend and protector, but as a big muscular male. His familiar scent was no longer a source of comfort but instead caused an unexpected ache in parts of her body that had never ached before.

Until that year, she wouldn’t have thought twice about hugging him or sitting on his lap but one day when she went to give him a good night hug, her breasts rubbed against his chest and her nipples hardened. It had felt so good that she pressed closer and for the first time, he gently moved her away.

That was the beginning. Her newly awakened body was constantly on fire. She found herself dreaming about him and waking up with a new slickness between her thighs. But the more her instincts urged her towards him, the more he withdrew. The final catastrophic incident which drove him away had occurred late one night at the end of summer.

It had been a hot day and as she watched him training shirtless, his grey skin gleaming in the sunlight, all she could think about was pressing up against his body, about having him hold her, not as a child but as a woman. She had tried to talk to him that evening, but he’d slipped away, leaving her to go to bed alone, restless and aching. The summer night had done nothing to cool the fever raging in her blood and eventually she had given up trying to sleep and gone to look for him.

He had a small cabin in the woods close behind her parents’ house. When she arrived, he wasn’t sleeping either. Instead he was sitting in the rocking chair on the front porch, staring out into the night.

“Emlan, what are you doing here?” He was the only Yehrin who pronounced her name the human way and the sound of it in his deep voice made her nipples harden beneath her thin nightgown.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered.

Before he could respond, she climbed onto his lap, something she had done a million times before, but she had never felt this way. His chest was rock hard against her cheek, every muscle tensed, and he brought his hands to her arms. She knew he was about to lift her away and she put her arms around his neck.

“Please don’t. It’s been such a long time since you held me.”

He didn’t move for a long minute, then he sighed and put his arms around her, holding her close.

“Why can you not sleep, little one?”

“I feel so restless. So achy.” She wiggled against him as she spoke, delighting in the hard warmth of his body.

“It is to be expected. You are growing up and experiencing a lot of changes.”

Despite the patient words, she could hear the strain in his voice. Greatly daring, she pressed a quick kiss against his neck. He froze, but he didn’t push her away. She repeated the gesture and this time she let her tongue slip out to taste his skin. His taste exploded in her mouth—delicious, right, hers.

He still hadn’t moved, and she kept kissing him, soft little kisses that traced the vein throbbing in his neck, that danced along his jawbone, that finally reached the corner of his mouth. Since he still hadn’t objected, she gathered her courage and swung her leg over to straddle him. A hoarse groan escaped his lips and she was suddenly shockingly aware that she sat astride a massive erection. The delicious sensation had her searching for more and she wiggled closer.

“Emlan.”

Her name was a tortured cry, but she seized the opportunity, pressing her mouth against his in her first clumsy desperate kiss. For a moment he didn’t respond, and she could feel her cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment, but then he cupped her head and took control. His mouth forced hers to open and his tongue invaded, rough and demanding, setting her whole body on fire with longing. The heated pleasure of his kiss was so intense that all she could concentrate on was his mouth. She was barely aware of his other hand pressing her center against his erection, but she could feel the increasing urgency in her own body. She rubbed her aching breasts against his hard chest, desperate for relief as an unfamiliar sensation began to sweep over her. As she ground against him, her muscles tightened and then a sudden shocking pleasure swept over her. Sparks of light danced before her eyes and she had to pull away from the delicious intensity of his mouth in order to gasp for air as her body shuddered.

When she stopped kissing him, he froze, and she could feel him start to withdraw. Her mind still dazed with pleasure and her body limp with satisfaction, she clung to him. To her relief he didn’t push her away, although he adjusted her so that she was once more cradled in his arms and not pressed against his erection. She protested sleepily, already wanting to explore more of these wonderful new sensations, but he only held her and rocked her until she fell into a contented sleep.

The next morning, she woke up in her own bed, alone. When she rushed down to breakfast, already anxious to see him again, her father was waiting, a grim look on his face. He had taken her into his office and gently broken the news to her. Tren had left.

The next weeks passed in a dazed blur. She felt as if there was an enormous hole in her hearts. He had been such a constant presence in her life that the gaping emptiness he left behind was almost overwhelming. A few weeks later she received his first message. He didn’t refer to the incident which had driven him away but told her a little about his new position. He asked about her classes and her family. It was almost nothing in the message that wasn’t the old Tren, except that he closed by saying that he missed her and couldn’t wait until he could return. When she wrote back, she also didn’t refer to the incident, but as the weeks went on and they continued to correspond, more of her feelings found their way into her messages. He also began to occasionally refer to his own feelings and casually mention their future. She’d had no doubt that he would return for her. And then had come the dreadful day when she had been told that his ship had been destroyed. Even in the depths of her grief, she had still felt her connection to him. It had taken her so long to accept that he wasn’t returning but she had been right all along—he had been alive.

From what the medics had been able to discover before he withdrew into silence, he had been enslaved in a mining operation. They suspected that another race had actually been behind the imprisonment but Lizabet told her that they had been unable to get any information from Tren confirming that. The thought of what he must have been through broke her heart. All the time she had been living her life, he had been suffering through a hellish situation, and it was her fault for driving him away.

The familiar feeling of guilt washed over her, but before she had a chance to wallow in it, a quiet knock sounded at her door. When she checked the monitor, she saw T’gaira waiting outside. Short for a Yehrin, he made up for it with the massive width of his shoulders. His heavy horns, gnarled with age, drew together as he frowned.

“What is it?” she asked as she opened the door.

“We are at the medical station. Figured you would want to see the boy right away.”

“I can see him? Now?” Her pulse began to race. He was so close. She took an eager step towards the door and he held up a hand.

“Get dressed and I will take you.”

She looked down and blushed as she realized she was still in her nightgown.

“Ten seconds,” she promised as she closed the door.

Because her job often required formal attire for meetings, she had a wardrobe full of elaborate clothing, but she bypassed all of it. Instead, she quickly pulled on a simple pale green dress. He had always loved that color and even if he couldn’t see it properly, she wanted to please him. Too impatient to do more than fluff her curls, she headed for the door.

“I’m ready.”

“Come along then.”

As they hurried through the silent corridors of the ship, then through the lock and onto the medical station, they passed very few people and she realized that it was still deep night. Heavy silence cloaked the vessel.

“Why didn’t you wait until morning, T’gaira?” she asked softly. He was usually a stickler for following procedures.

“You have been waiting a long time,” he said gruffly. “And so has he. To be separated from your L’chka for so long…” He shook his head. “Why waste any more time?”

T’gaira seemed to know exactly where he was going, finally stopping outside a closed door panel. “This is his room.”

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his grizzled cheek. “Thank you, T’gaira.”

“I will wait out here,” he said gruffly. “No one will disturb you tonight.”

Her heart pounding so hard she felt almost ill, she opened the door.

Chapter Six

The room was dim, so dim she could barely see the big figure seated in a chair against the far wall, but she could see the familiar broken horn, the one he had lost saving her grandmother’s life. For a moment, he didn’t move and then his head slowly turned in her direction. In the darkness, his eyes gleamed silver, no longer the deep blue she remembered so vividly, but it made no difference. She knew that figure, she knew that scent—this was Tren.

“Tren,” she whispered. Tears were coursing down her cheeks and she dashed at them impatiently.

“Emlan.”

The hoarse voice sounded so different, but she still had no doubt. There was so much pain in his voice.

“Yes, I’m here.”

The gleaming silver eyes had not left her face and yet, he had made no move towards her. She took a step in his direction and heard a low growl. Shocked, she looked down and saw an animal rising to its feet from its position next to Tren. She had never seen anything quite like it—the stocky body was covered with mottled grey and black fur, but rigid spikes started at the top of its skull and continued along its back. It had a big wedge-shaped head and as she stared, it bared an intimidating mouthful of teeth.

“Down, Budra,” Tren ordered.

The animal obeyed but kept its eyes fixed on Emlan.

“Who is that?”

“She is my companion,” he said shortly.

Her heart aching, she took another step towards him. The animal growled again, but this time she ignored it.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice colder than she had ever heard from him, but she still caught the underlying note of pain.

“Where else would I be?” she asked softly as she slowly moved a little closer. She longed to run to him, but her instincts were screaming at her to give him time.

“With your husband,” he growled.

“I’m not married.”

He jerked, but his eyes were still focused in her direction.

“Why not?”

“You know why not, Tren.”

“Do I?”

“Of course, you do. No one has ever known me as well as you do.”

“As I did,” he corrected.

“I haven’t changed that much.”

He gave a bitter laugh, but all she could hear was more pain.

“I have.”

She came to a stop in front of him. He was so close that all she wanted to do was to throw herself into his arms that she was afraid, afraid that he would reject her.

“You are still my Tren,” she said softly.

“No, I am not. You should marry your human. You always wanted to be more human than Yehrin.”

His words stung more than she expected, an element of truth in them that she could not deny. Not because she rejected her Yehrin heritage, but because being different had always been so hard for her.

“I just wanted to belong. I thought I belonged to you, but you left me.” Now her voice was fraught with pain.

His hand started to lift, and she thought he was going to reach for her, but instead he gripped the arm of his chair, his claws digging into the hard plastic.

“You know why I had to leave.”

The guilt that had haunted her all these years could not be suppressed.

“I know I drove you away and I have never forgiven myself.”

“You did not drive me away.” For the first time his voice softened. “I did not have the self-control to resist you. That was my failing.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Sometimes the memory of that kiss was all that kept me sane.” He spoke so softly that the words were barely audible, but she heard him and a little of her guilt dissipated.

“Oh, Tren. I’ve missed you so much.”

Impulsively, she reached for his hand. The animal who had been poised watchfully at his side pushed between them, knocking her hand away. It didn’t hurt her, and an unexpected laugh caught her by surprise.

“It seems you have a guardian.”

“Budra is more than that. She is my eyes.”

“They told me that your eyes had been damaged. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want your fucking pity,” he snarled.

For a moment she was taken aback. Tren had never spoken to her that way before but despite the aggression, she could still hear the torment in his voice and her heart melted.

“I don’t feel pity for you.”

It was quite true. As her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, she had been able to see him more clearly. He was still her beloved warrior, even though she could see the lines of strain on his face and see how much thinner he had become. She stared at him hungrily, absorbing every detail—the broken horn, the angular lines of his face—still so familiar to her—the broad, bare chest, the… Her eyes widened.

“Is that the necklace I gave you?”

The muscles around his mouth tightened as he jerked his head in assent. The small holo-locket had been all the rage the year he left, and she had saved up her allowance for months to buy it for him. Once sealed by a fingerprint from the giver and the receiver, only those two could ever open it. When she gave it to him and explained, he had very solemnly placed his thumb on the lock pad with her. And he was still wearing it. Her heart was breaking and all she wanted was to be close to him once more.

“Can you tell Budra to let me touch you?” The lump in her throat made it hard to speak.

“I do not think that is a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“You belong to another male.”

“No, I do not,” she said indignantly. “I have never belonged to another male.”

“You were going to marry another male.”

So, they were back to this.

“I had been told for ten years that you were dead. I didn’t believe them. I waited. I waited for so long.” Her breath caught. “Perhaps I should’ve known. Perhaps I should have waited longer, but I was lonely, and I knew I had to move on. Would you have wanted me to spend the rest of my life alone?”

His hand clenched, then relaxed. “No, Emlan. I would have wanted you to be happy. But you chose a human.”

“I could not have chosen any other Yehrin. They would only have reminded me of you… and they would have known they did not have my heart.”

“You are no longer promised to the human?”

“No, of course not. Not from the moment I knew you were alive.” She reached for his hand again and this time Budra did not push her aside. As soon as their fingers touched, she felt as if she had come home. A strange hand, an alien hand with three fingers and long black claws, but the only hand that had ever felt right in hers.

“Emlan,” he groaned, and then he pulled her into his arms.

Part of T’renan still raged, still hurt and betrayed that his Emlan, his mate, his L’chka, had been willing to give herself to another, but it was lost beneath the ecstasy of having her in his arms once again. He kissed her, devouring her mouth as her delicious taste washed over him, still so familiar even after all these years. She returned his kiss just as frantically, her hands running all over his body as she tried to press closer. He cupped a small perfect breast over the thin fabric of her clothing and her taut peak stabbed his palm. She urged him on, pressing herself into his hand with a moan.

He pulled her closer and she straddled him, just as she had done the evening he had left, but this time there was nothing to keep them apart. He could feel the damp heat of her delectable cunt, even through the layers of fabric separating them. Impatiently, he pulled her dress out of the way, and discovered she was bare beneath it. He froze, his hand clutching a soft naked buttock.

“You are not wearing any undergarments,” he growled. “You came to me like that?”

“I didn’t want to waste any time,” she said breathlessly, grinding against him.

Both enraged and aroused at the knowledge, he yanked her closer, his fingers slipping into the warm dark crevice of her ass. She mewled and he felt a fresh rush of liquid heat against the fabric covering his straining cock. He needed to be inside her, now.

Still holding her against his aching erection, he managed to stand and carry her to the bed. Her dress was tossed aside, and he bent over her, kissing her neck, sucking her breasts, rubbing his face along her skin as if he were a wild beast scenting his mate. Perhaps he was—she consumed him, filling his head with her scent, her passion, her soft cries of encouragement. He spread her legs, hunger driving him, and notched the head of his cock at her tiny entrance, already dripping with her desire. Mindless with need, he drove inside in one long hard thrust, her channel so impossibly hot and tight that he came immediately, his seed leaving him in long shuddering pulses as he clutched her to him and cried out her name.

Not until his body sagged in thankful relief did he catch the scent of blood and realize that the face pressed against his chest was wet with tears.

“Emlan! Did I hurt you?”

Emlan could hear the appalled horror in Tren’s voice as he tried to pull away, but she tightened her arms and legs around him as she tried to catch her breath. Fuck. That had hurt more than she expected, but she still wouldn’t have traded a second of it. She had needed him just as desperately.

“Let me tend to you,” he urged.

“Not yet. I want to feel you inside me.” It was the truth. The sharp pain had dissipated, leaving behind an aching fullness.

“You… you were a virgin?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling unexpectedly shy, even in this intimate position. A thought occurred to her and the words emerged before she had a chance to consider them. “Were you?”

“Of course. There has never been anyone but you for me. I could not wait any longer to be joined with you. But I never wished to cause you pain.”

She started to shrug, and a delicious ripple of pleasure reached to where their bodies were joined. “I think it was inevitable. But I’m feeling much better now.”

Her hips lifted a fraction and he jerked, his cock hard and throbbing inside her once more. He started to withdraw, and she winced, despite her immediate protest.

“Don’t leave me.”

“I am not leaving you. I am never leaving you again.”

He thrust forward, a sudden shocking fullness, and her body shuddered. He paused, buried deep inside her, and stroked a thick finger across her swollen clit. Her channel tried to tighten, only increasing the pressure, but the ache was transforming into a desperate need.

“You are mine, Emlan.”

He withdrew, then plunged forward again as he pressed against her clit, sending fiery sparks of heat along her sensitive nerve endings.

“My love. My mate. My L’chka.”

Each phrase was punctuated with another thrust, another shock of pleasure to her overwhelmed body.

“Yes, Tren. I’m yours. Only yours.”

With a harsh cry, he lost control again, driving into her with the same urgent need he had shown before but she was just as needy, lifting up to meet each stroke, her body poised on the edge of climax, until he drove deeper than ever before, pinching her throbbing clit and sending her flying into a vast universe filled with stars as she felt him shudder and felt the hot wash of his seed filling her a second time.

They clung to each other in silence before he gently withdrew, his arms still clutching her tightly.

“My Emlan.”

“My Tren.”

With a contented sigh, she snuggled closer. He was back and he was hers. They would deal with everything else tomorrow.

Chapter Seven

The next morning, Emlan awoke feeling happier and more contented than she could ever remember. Tren’s big body was wrapped around her, his arms holding her tightly against him. She burrowed closer, pressing herself as close as possible, reveling in the warmth of his presence. Sometime during the past ten years she had decided that she wasn’t a very touchy-feely person. Even with close friends, even with Harvey, she had preferred to keep her distance, but not with Tren, never with Tren. If she could spend the rest of her life in his arms, she would be perfectly content.

Still smiling, she stretched a little, trying not to disturb him, and realized that there was a warm body against her feet as well. When she raised her head, she found Budra looking back at her, yellow eyes glinting.

“Thank you for looking after him,” she whispered. “I’m not a threat to you. We can share him.”

Budra considered her for a moment longer then put that big vicious head back down. Emlan felt a foolish sense of accomplishment that the crileth had accepted her.

“I am glad that you do not object to her presence,” Tren said quietly, and she turned over to smile up at him.

His eyes gleamed silver, but she suddenly realized that even though he was looking at her face he obviously could not see her clearly. Last night in the dark room, it had been easy to forget that his sight was damaged. Now, although the room was still dim, the increased brightness used to indicate a day shift made it easier for her to see him. He obviously did not have the same ability. Her heart aching, she put her hand on his beloved face.

“How could I object to anyone who has helped you?”

To her surprise, he gave a half laugh. “I will remind you of that if we ever encounter O’kami.”

“Who’s that?”

“He was in the mines with me. A fucking Vulfar, but he was the one who helped me escape.”

“Lizabet never mentioned him. What happened to him?”

“Once we were clear of the Quataran system, a Yehrin ship hailed us. I tried to convince him to remain on board, but he did not trust our intentions. I can not say I was surprised, especially given the way they treated me after my ship was destroyed.” He shrugged. “So, he took the escape pod and apparently managed to avoid detection.”

He rolled her over, the weight of his body coming down over her. “But why are we talking about that? Why are we talking at all?”

When he kissed her, all thought of their conversation drifted away. She eagerly returned his kiss as he teased her breasts with eager hands before sliding a thick finger between her legs. Despite the liquid heat that already coated her nether lips, she still winced when he probed her entrance. He stopped immediately.

“Forgive me, my L’chka. Your body is not used to our activities, and I was not as gentle last night as I should have been.”

“You were perfect last night,” she assured him. “I have never been happier, but perhaps my body needs a little bit of time to adjust.”

“Of course,” he said immediately. “This is new for both of us—”

He stopped abruptly and frowned.

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

“I apologize, my Emlan. I did not think, did not consider…”

“Consider what?”

“I did not take any precautions to prevent pregnancy.”

“Oh.” She could feel her cheeks heating. “I am on the yearly birth control shot.”

He growled and rolled off of her to lie on his back with an arm over his face.

“Tren, please don’t be like that. You know that nothing came of it.”

“But you were preparing for him.” He moved his arm and gazed in her direction. “Did you not want to have children with him?”

No. Her immediate response shocked her, but now she realized that she had been hesitant about that as well. How had she ever managed to convince herself that marrying Harvey was the right decision?

But this was her first morning with her mate and she did not want thoughts of the past intruding. Leaning over Tren, she stroked her hand down across a still impressive set of abdominal muscles until she reached his heavy cock. Still hard, he jerked as her hand tried to close around him. The slightly textured surface of his shaft teased her fingers and she shivered as she remembered the delicious sensation of his body entering hers.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Why don’t you try and figure it out?” she teased as she started stroking him.

He groaned. “Emlan—”

A buzzer sounded.

“What’s that?”

“The door alarm,” he growled. “Cover yourself.”

She pulled the sheet up over her body and sat up, already dreading whatever would happen next. Budra too had risen on her haunches and was studying the door. Tren pressed a button and the door panel slid open.

“Commander T’renan. I am Officer T’bora and—” A strange Yehrin officer strode into the room and stopped dead at the sight of her. “Who are you?”

“She is my L’chka,” Tren growled as he stood up, assuming a threatening posture.

While he had always been protective, she had never seen him so instantly aggressive and she fought back a concerned frown.

“What is she?” the officer asked.

“She is my L’chka,” Tren repeated. “You will treat her with respect.”

“Yes, of course. I am simply unfamiliar with the species.”

Tired of the two of them talking about her, Emlan spoke up. “I am human, and we were busy.”

A leer started to cross Officer T’bora’s face and Budra growled. He stepped back quickly.

“I am delighted that you have recovered your voice, Commander T’renan,” he said officiously. “We need to discuss the Vulfar with you.”

“I already told you that I know nothing of their involvement. The Quatarans are the ones who imprisoned me.”

“Yes, yes,” T’bora said impatiently. “But they are a harmless race of merchants. The Vulfar are the real enemy.”

“I do not consider a race which uses slave labor to be harmless,” Tren growled.

“Most unfortunate, I know.” The officer started to step closer and paused when Budra growled again. “But you must admit that the horium is a valuable resource.”

“Are you seriously saying that it doesn’t matter that they use slaves because of what they produce?” Emlan asked in astonishment.

The officer hesitated just a fraction too long before he answered. “No, of course not.” He ran a finger around the collar of his sleeveless black uniform before continuing. “But you must have some information about the Vulfar that we can use.”

“He already told you that he didn’t,” Emlan said firmly. She could see the tenseness in Tren’s body. He looked poised to attack. “Now if you will excuse us…”

The officer lingered a moment longer but then Budra jumped down off of the bed. She yawned, her mouth opening wide to reveal rows of crocodile-like teeth and the officer backed away. He looked from Budra to Tren’s looming body, then shook his head.

“Perhaps we can talk more later?”

Tren didn’t respond, and with a resigned sigh, the male left.

“What was all that about?” she asked.

“I do not know but all of their questions have been similar. All they care about are the Vulfar. They have shown no interest in the Quatarans.”

“After what they did to you?” she asked, outraged.

“As he said, the horium is very valuable.” He scowled up at the ceiling. “But I do not think that is the only reason. We do not think of the Quatarans as warriors and therefore we do not view them as opponents. The Vulfar are warriors and it is easier to focus on them.”

Emlan tapped her chin thoughtfully. “There’s something that Lizabet said to me, about how they had tried to have talks with the Vulfar but each time something goes wrong. I know you said that you didn’t know anything, but perhaps you should at least talk to her.”

“I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to talk to anyone but you.”

While she appreciated the sentiment, the officer’s dismissal of the Quatarans continued to bother her. But then Tren climbed back on the bed and began kissing her and her thoughts disappeared in pleasure.

After thoroughly exploring her mouth, he kissed down her body until he reached her breasts. She knew they were small, but he did not seem to find them lacking in any way as he lingered over them, teasing her nipples until she was arching against him. The lingering soreness from the previous night only seem to increase the needy ache in her pussy. She lifted her hips, already determined to have him inside her once more.

The door alarm buzzed again.

“Fuck,” he growled.

Tren rolled off of her, throwing the sheet back over her in the process, and stalked towards the door. He arrived slightly to one side of the panel and she bit back the urge to correct him. To her relief, Budra nudged him into position as he smacked the release button.

“What the fuck do you want now?”

“Here to check on M’lan.” T’gaira peered around Tren’s big body to look for her, then turned back to her mate. “And you should put some clothes on.”

Tren growled, echoed by Budra, and she hastily climbed out of bed, keeping the sheet wrapped around her.

“Tren, this is T’gaira. My father assigned him to me as a bodyguard.”

“You no longer need a bodyguard. I will protect you.”

Every line in his body was stiff with tension and she put a soothing hand on his back.

“I know you will, but perhaps T’gaira could assist for now. Just until you have fully recovered.”

T’gaira snorted. “Ancestors, save me from the arrogance of youth.” He scowled at Emlan. “Unless you want to receive more visitors dressed only in a sheet, you had better put some clothes on as well.”

Tren still blocked the doorway, unconcerned about his nudity. “We do not want any visitors.”

“Too bad. Half the ship is about to descend on you.” T’gaira’s face softened slightly. “All kind of posturing about this Quataran matter.”

Emlan started to stroke Tren’s back, trying to calm him down, and suddenly stopped in horror. The light in the room had been dim enough that she had not realized that his back was covered with scars. With the added light from the corridor, she could see not just one scar, but hundreds, leaving deep ridges in his flesh.

“Oh my God, Tren. What did they do to you?”

She felt him flinch and T’gaira took the opportunity to push inside the room, closing the door behind him.

“You do not need the whole ship talking about you,” he said gruffly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just didn’t realize. Oh, Tren.”

Tren didn’t respond. He shrugged off her hand and strode towards a cabinet on the far wall. Once again, he missed it and Budra had to nudge him into place. Emlan started after him, her heart aching as he fumbled for his clothes, but T’gaira caught her arm. When she looked up at him, he shook his head silently. Perhaps he was right. As much as it pained her, she suspected that Tren would not want her assistance.

“I’ll just go in the sanitary facility and get dressed,” she said quickly as she picked up her discarded dress.

After the fastest cleanup she could manage, she emerged to find Tren once more in his chair against the wall, his face grim and distant. Budra leaned against the arm of his chair.

T’gaira stood next to the door, watching him, a thoughtful scowl on his face.

She wanted to go Tren, but he looked so unapproachable, she was not sure that she would be welcome. In the end, she compromised and stood on the far side of Budra, close enough to show her support but not close enough to crowd him. They all waited in tense silence, but nothing happened.

“Perhaps we should have some br—”

The door alarm buzzed.

Chapter Eight

T’renan could feel the anger boiling inside him as he waited. He had spent his life as a Yehrin warrior, but he no longer felt the same connection to his fellow warriors. They did not seem concerned about his entrapment in the mines. All they were concerned about was the Vulfar. And even though no one had said anything to him directly, he could feel the weight of their discomfort with his injuries. Perhaps they thought that a true warrior would have escaped earlier, his sight intact.

The fact that Emlan was here with him at long last was the only bright spot in the darkness haunting him, but as soon as there were other people around, he became conscious of his shortcomings. Even now, she stood on the other side of Budra. Was she ashamed of him? He dismissed the thought immediately, but it left a lingering uncertainty.

When the door alarm sounded, he tensed even further. Automatically, he reached across Budra’s head to take Emlan’s hand. He needed to know that she was safe.

T’gaira went to the door. Although of course he had not gotten a good look at the warrior, the gruff older male reminded T’renan of a training master from his Warrior House, an oddly comforting memory. T’carter would work them until they trembled with exhaustion, but he knew each male as well as if they were his own children and never pushed them to the point where they broke.

The door panel slid open and he could dimly distinguish three figures—a short redhead backed by green and grey blurs. He did not need Emlan’s greeting to realize that L’zabet and her mates had arrived. He had nothing against the human female and at one time, he would have counted T’kol as a friend, but he did not want them here now.

“Lizabet,” Emlan said. “What’s going on? We’ve already had one jerk push his way in here this morning.”

L’zabet sighed. “There is a meeting today. They’re hoping that now you are here, T’renan will be willing to talk to them.”

“I have nothing to say to them,” he snarled. Emlan’s hand tightened over his, but she did not say anything.

T’kol came closer but stopped when Budra growled.

“It is good to see you, my friend.”

“I wish I could say the same,” he said bitterly.

There was a moment of silence, then he caught a flicker of movement and realize that T’kol was shaking his head.

“T’lan and T’chok send their best wishes as well. Do you feel the same way about their regard?”

A faint pang of guilt poked at him. Both males were close friends of his and yet, what if they thought less of him now as well? The warmth of Emlan’s hand curved around his gave him the strength to answer politely.

“Thank them for me.” Uncomfortable, he changed the subject. “Why are you here?”

“We would have come anyway once we found out that you were here, but as it turns out, L’zabet is here at the perfect time. Commander T’vaina is tired of trying to negotiate with the Vulfar. He is prepared to launch a full-scale attack.”

“Why now?”

Another flicker of movement, perhaps a shrug. “I suspect it is because he is young and ambitious, but he says it is to avenge you.”

He snarled. “Then why doesn’t he attack the fucking Quatarans? They are the ones who held me prisoner.”

“The Quatarans claim it was a mistake. They say that the Vulfar turned you over to them as a war criminal to serve out your sentence in their mines,” H’sst said quietly as he also approached.

“My sentence?” In his outrage, he tightened his grip on Emlan’s hand until he felt her wince. The fact that he had caused his mate pain only added to his anger. He pushed himself to his feet in a furious movement, then realized he had nowhere to go.

The small cabin was too crowded with people to allow him to pace.

“I’m going to speak to the commander now,” L’zabet said. “I have the necessary authority to join the discussion.” She hesitated. “Do you wish to attend? It could be more valuable to have them hear directly from you.”

It was his turn to hesitate. He did not want to leave the cabin; he wanted to stay cocooned here with Emlan and Budra, to start rebuilding what he had lost. But his anger wanted revenge. He wanted the Quatarans destroyed.

“Very well,” he reluctantly agreed.

“Good. I hope it will help.” Her shadowy outline changed position. “Emlan, I brought your clothes from the ship if you wish to change.”

L’zabet’s words reminded him that his mate was clothed only in a thin dress.

“She does,” he growled.

L’zabet laughed. “You Yehrin warriors are all the same. Come with me, Emlan.”

Emlan squeezed his hand, then the two females disappeared into the sanitary facility and an awkward silence fell over the cabin. He had no desire to discuss his imprisonment and he no longer remembered how to make polite social conversation.

When Emlan emerged, he could see her well enough to know that her slender figure was now covered in a deep green fabric that reached the floor. He heard her skirts rustle as she walked over and took his hand once more.

“You look beautiful, my L’chka,” he said sincerely. He did not need the full use of his eyes to imagine her beauty.

She raised his hand her lips and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it. “Thank you, my warrior.”

“All right,” L’zabet said briskly. “Let’s proceed.”

They filed out of the cabin, T’kol in the lead, H’sst escorting L’zabet, Emlan and Budra with him, and T’gaira as the rearguard. For a moment, he almost allowed himself to relax into the familiarity of being surrounded by comrades but then he remembered that they were no longer his fellow warriors. The helpless rage began to return and only Emlan’s presence enabled him to keep a rein on his temper.

Their destination turned out to be a large conference room at the top of the ship. Just before they entered, a medic came rushing up.

“Are you sure that you should have left your cabin, Commander T’renan? Commander T’vaina thought it might be best if you remained below.”

“I am sure you are not suggesting that Commander T’renan is confined to his quarters?” T’kol said coldly.

“No, no. Not at all.” The medic gave a nervous laugh.

“Then step aside,” T’kol ordered.

The male obeyed, but T’renan saw the white-clad figure enter the room behind them. As soon as they entered, he stiffened. The foul scent of a Quataran assaulted his nostrils.

“Commander T’renan, while it is good of you to join us, I am sure that it would be better for you to rest,” Commander T’vaina said quickly, but T’renan paid no attention.

He tried to scan the room, cursing under his breath at the weakness of his vision, unable to determine if a Quataran was actually present.

“Since this directly concerns Commander T’renan, he has every right to be present,” L’zabet said, her voice icy.

“Yes, yes. Of course. We were just discussing the need to take definitive action against the Vulfar.”

“The Vulfar did not keep me prisoner in a mine for ten years,” he snarled. “The fucking Quatarans did. Why are you not prepared to take definitive action against them?”

“It appears you are the victim of a terrible misunderstanding—” the commander began.

“Misunderstanding?” The grey haze that normally covered his vision began to turn red. “I was starved, whipped, and shocked on a regular basis for ten fucking years. Kept from my home, my L’chka. I did not misunderstand anything.”

“Most unfortunate I’m sure, but I can assure you that you were only treated that way because the Vulfar—”

The guttural voice was unmistakable and now he could detect a large pink figure at the far side of the room. With an outraged cry, he sprang for the Quataran. He stumbled twice as he crossed the room, but he did not let it deter him. His claws fully extended, he seized the lying bastard as the room exploded into chaos. The satisfaction of his claws sinking into the thick pink flesh was all too brief. He was so intent on his victim that he was unaware of anyone else approaching until he felt the sharp sting of a needle in his neck. The world spun into darkness as he tried his best to take the Quataran with him.

Emlan watched in horror as Tren exploded into rage. Despite his poor vision, he leapt across the room with the speed she remembered. Budra growled and started to launch herself after him and Emlan grabbed her.

“No, girl. It will only make it worse.”

Already the other Yehrin were swarming towards Tren. He had his claws buried in the neck of a large pink alien with a snout-like face and a bristle of dark hair running across his scalp and down his back. She had never dealt directly with the Quatarans, but she recognized the species.

The medic who had followed them into the room reached T’renan. There was a flash of silver and then his big body collapsed. She cried out and Lizabet put a soothing hand on her arm.

“It’s just a sedative.” Lizabet bit her lip as she studied the confusion. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”

“Neither do I,” T’kol said grimly. “T’renan is one of our own. I do not like the fact that they are so willing to disregard his statement.”

“Profit can cause extreme deafness,” Hisst pointed out.

“And ambition,” T’gaira added. “Had commanders like that before. Glory hungry.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Emlan cried. “I just want Tren back.”

Across the room, the medic had directed two warriors to place Tren on a floating stretcher and he had turned back to the Quataran. Without a word, T’kol and T’gaira went and retrieved Tren. He looked so still that she had to put her hand on his face so that she could feel him breathing. Budra whined anxiously.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lizabet said. “I don’t think there will be any more negotiating right now,” she added dryly.

Later that morning Tren tossed restlessly in his drugged sleep. Emlan put her hand on his cheek and he finally seemed to settle, but even then, she could see his muscles twitching. Damn. This is not how she had envisioned their reunion. She stepped back from the bed and Budra gave her a reproachful look.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she sighed. “You couldn’t have helped him.”

She could have sworn that the crileth looked skeptical, but she simply turned and positioned herself at Tren’s back.

“Watch over him,” she said softly, then slipped out of the room.

Lizabet was waiting for her.

“How is he?”

“Still asleep.” She bit her lip. “But I’m worried about him. He was always so calm and patient and now I feel as if he is on a hair trigger, ready to explode into violence at any minute.”

“With you?” her friend asked anxiously.

“Oh no. I know to the depths of my soul that he would never hurt me.” She shook her head. “I know he has every reason to be angry, but I don’t think this is helping him. Do you really need him here?”

Lizabet considered for a moment, then shook her head. “I think the situation is pretty clear. I’ve already contacted the Supreme Council and asked them to make sure that Commander T’vaina doesn’t try and provoke a war. They have instructed me to get to the bottom of the situation with the Quatarans.”

“Take him away from here.”

They both turned to see T’gaira scowling at them.

“He does not need your fucking politics. Get him away from here. Let him find some peace.”

Emlan love the idea of being alone with Tren, but she gave Lizabet a worried look. “Do you think it’s safe to remove him from a doctor’s care?”

Lizabet sighed. “There doesn’t seem to be anything that they can do for him.”

“What about his eyes?”

The other woman shook her head.

“Yehrin technology can do many amazing things, but they seem to have a real lack in some aspects of medicine. I think because they heal so quickly and their wounds are rarely fatal, that they never had the need. They don’t even have the concept of glasses, let alone the ability to heal the damage to his optic nerves.”

Her heart ached for her warrior. It made no difference to her, but she wondered if he would ever adjust. T’gaira was right, she needed to get him away from the military surroundings that would only serve to remind him of what he had lost.

“Do you want to take him back to Earth?” Lizabet asked.

“I’m not sure. I’m afraid that it will remind him of how much he has missed. But I would like to get him off of the ship.” She searched her memory for suitable places in the surrounding system.

“Take him to Eccalia,” T’gaira said.

Eccalia was considered a recreational planet. Their main export was the intricate coral sculptures the natives carved from the plentiful reefs surrounding the many islands. She had spent a brief period of time on the planet during a trading mission and she had been impressed by the beautiful, tranquil surroundings.

“Only two days away,” he added.

They both looked at him in surprise and he scowled harder. “Told you he needed to leave here.”

“Do you think we should get someone to take us there?” she asked Lizabet.

T’gaira snorted. “Already arranged. I will fly you there as soon as you are ready to leave.”

“You?” She asked doubtfully, already suspecting that Tren and the old warrior would clash.

“Not going without me.” For a moment, his face softened. “Besides, that boy needs someone to make sure you do not smother him.”

“I will do nothing of the kind.”

“Not if I am there.”

An exasperated sigh left her lips, but part of her was glad that T’gaira would be coming with them. Although they might disagree, the old warrior wouldn’t baby Tren and perhaps that was what he needed.

“If you insist,” she said, and grinned at him. “Don’t you ever get tired of chasing me around the galaxy?”

“Nothing better to do,” he grumbled, but she saw the twist of his lips.

“Thank you, T’gaira,” she said softly, and rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his weathered cheek. “We’ll leave as soon as he wakes up.”

Chapter Nine

T’renan scowled at the old warrior sitting next to him on the bridge. Not that he could really see him, of course, but he could make out the male’s general shape. He hated the idea of another male accompanying them on what Emlan had called a honeymoon. She had described it as an opportunity for the two of them to be alone together and there was nothing that he wanted more. The fact that they would be accompanied by this old bastard had not been mentioned.

T’gaira provided a constant reminder that he was not capable of protecting his female by himself. Yet, as much as he wanted to dislike the male, he found his complete lack of sympathy and his occasional dry wit surprisingly refreshing. On the medical station, he had been subject to awkward disgust or suspicious interrogation. T’gaira simply treated him as a young and not too bright warrior. Even though he was neither, he found the other male’s demeanor more tolerable.

“We’re almost there.”

Emlan came up behind him and put her arms around his neck, rubbing the silky softness of her cheek against his much rougher skin. Her gentle fragrance surrounded him, and he could almost feel his body relaxing as he reached up to cover her hands with his. Even in the brief time they had spent together on this trip, the bond he had formed with her so long ago had deepened. She had always been bright and insightful, choosing to observe rather than speak, but during the years they had been apart she had gained a perspective on the world that he admired and respected.

She kissed his ear, letting her warm breath tickle the sensitive area, and his cock immediately stiffened. He had been in a constant state of arousal since she had come to him the first time and the narrow bunks on the small flyer meant that their night together, while delightful, had not allowed him to explore her as he would have wished.

The sound of the engine softened to a gentle hum as the ship headed for a landing. Even through the shielding over the viewports, the light on the bridge increased to the point where he winced. So far, they had kept all of the lighting dimmed in order to accommodate his sensitivity, but he was not entirely sure how he would fare once they emerged on the surface.

“What is the time of day on the planet?” he asked.

“Just past midday,” T’gaira said. “Why?”

Reluctant to admit his weakness, he forced himself to speak. “I may need to wait until nightfall.”

“Been thinking about that.”

T’gaira began moving around the small bridge, then pressed something into T’renan’s hand. “Try these.”

“What are they?”

“Goggles. Used a pair on one of those ice planets. Try them.”

Reluctantly, he fumbled them into place. He heard Emlan catch her breath and knew she wanted to help but thankfully she didn’t offer. He could tell that it was a constant struggle for her not to offer her assistance, but that was not what he wanted from her. He wanted to think that she saw him only as her warrior and not as an invalid.

Relief filled him as the goggles covered his eyes, tinting the light to a dim blue that was soothing rather than burning. He suspected he probably looked ridiculous but since he could not see himself, he was too grateful for the relief to worry about it.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Only common sense,” T’gaira muttered. “Want to be able to do things in the daytime. I need my sleep.”

Emlan laughed. “Do you sleep, T’gaira? You always seemed to be awake when I didn’t want you to be.”

“That is why I need my sleep,” he grumbled, but T’renan already knew that the older male had a deep affection for Emlan. He found himself grateful that the other warrior had been there when he could not be.

The memory of what had prevented him from being with her cast a dark shadow over his previous pleasure in the goggles and he could feel his mood darkening. But then Emlan kissed his cheek again and his world brightened.

By the time they settled into their new residence, that moment of calm had long since departed. Even though Eccalia only had a small port, there was enough activity and enough strangers moving around to set his nerves on edge. Budra had remained pressed against his side guiding his footsteps, while Emlan had taken his other arm. To his eternal gratitude, she had not attempted to maneuver him but simply walked beside him as his mate.

Still, the landing and the short journey to their residence had been difficult. To his relief, he could neither hear nor scent anyone in the vicinity. The soft lapping of water and the sounds of insects and small living creatures formed a peaceful backdrop.

“Where are we?”

“This is Villa Laguna. When I was on Eccalia before, we—I was taken by here on a tour of the island.”

“We?” He couldn’t hide his frown.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I was here to arrange for ongoing shipments of coral from Eccalia. And, yes, Harvey was here. I did tell you that he and I worked for the same company,” she said gently.

His temper flared. “Why did you bring me somewhere that you had been with him?”

Beneath the anger was a deep well of pain. He hated the idea that another male had touched his Emlan, had been able to see her smiles, had been with her on her explorations across the galaxy.

“I—we were only here for a week and we spent the entire time doing business. I just remembered how beautiful it was and I wanted to share that with you. You’re the one I love, Tren. Please remember that.”

The rational side of him could accept her words, could even appreciate the sentiment, but the rage that now lived so close to the surface did not abate. His feet shifted restlessly, his body looking for an outlet.

“What you need, boy, is some exercise,” T’gaira said gruffly. “We should go for a run.”

A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

“Run? I can barely see to walk.”

“Eh. Sounds like an excuse. There is a mile of beach in front of this domicile, just sand, no obstacles. Think you can keep up?”

The idea was unbearably tempting—to be able to stretch his legs, to move unimpeded by his limitations.

“But Emlan…”

“I’ll be fine,” she said quickly. “Go have some fun.”

“Place has an alarm,” T’gaira assured him. “Leave that mutt of yours if you want.”

It would be the first time that Budra was not at his side, but he wanted to know that Emlan was safe. And the thought of the run was calling to him.

“Budra, stay. Guard.”

The crileth growled softly, then moved away and he heard Emlan laugh. He hesitated for another moment, then T’gaira lightly touched his elbow. Gritting his teeth to the necessity, he allowed the other warrior to lead him through the thick, loose sand to the smoother surface at the water’s edge. His surroundings were a dim blur, but he could see the open expanse of blue to one side, while a variety of greens and a white blob that must be the villa lined the shore. He flexed his claws in the cool sand and grinned.

“Come on, old male. Let us see if you can live up to your boasting.”

T’gaira barked a laugh and took off. T’renan followed him, his feet unsure at first but gradually gaining confidence. As the older male had promised, the sand was smooth and uninterrupted and he soon fell into an easy stride, his legs working, his lungs pumping. Other than the time he had spent in Emlan’s arms, this was the first time that he felt like himself again. With an exuberant cry, he increased his pace and gave himself over to the feeling of freedom.

Emlan fought back the tears as she watched Tren and T’gaira run along the beach. She could tell the moment his stride evened out and he let himself run.

She put her hand on Budra’s head. “Look at him. He looks so happy.”

The crileth made a sound surprisingly reminiscent of a purr and rubbed against her hip. Together they watched as the two males raced to the far end of the beach, then turned and came back towards them. T’gaira called a halt when they were in front of the villa once more, but she could tell that Tren wanted to continue. Both males turned to look at her and she waved a hand.

“I’m fine. Why don’t you keep going?” she called.

The words were barely out of her mouth before Tren was off again. She watched two more circuits, then decided that he wasn’t going to stop anytime in the near future and went to explore the villa instead. To her surprise, Budra accompanied her. Apparently, she was taking the guard thing seriously, although Emlan couldn’t imagine any danger on this peaceful planet.

The rectangular building had a small bedroom and bathroom on either side of a central living area, with all the rooms opening out onto a long veranda overlooking the sea. There were only a few basic furnishings and most of those were built into the white stucco walls. The only color came from brilliant blue fabrics that reflected the expanse of ocean outside. With the minimal furniture and the smooth flow from inside to out, Tren wouldn’t need to worry about tripping over things.

“I think this is going to work out nicely,” she told Budra. “Shall we see what’s in the kitchen?”

T’gaira had arranged for supplies to be delivered and she was delighted to find the small kitchen area fully stocked. After a few frustrating minutes, she managed to figure out the rather unusual stove and began preparing a simple meal.

By the time the two warriors appeared in the open doorway leading to the beach, she had platters of food waiting for them. Tren’s skin gleamed with sweat, but she had not seen such a contented look on his face before and her heart rejoiced.

Budra greeted him as if he had been gone for a month and he laughed outright as he scratched the base of her head spikes.

“Did you miss me, girl?”

“You know she did,” Emlan laughed, and he immediately turned his head in her direction.

“And what of you, my L’chka? Did you miss me?”

Even though she knew he couldn’t see her clearly, she felt the full impact of his focus on her and caught her breath. Her nipples tightened into hard little points as an ache started low in her stomach. His nostrils flared and he began stalking towards her, every inch a warrior intent on his mate. She waited in breathless anticipation until he reached her, lifting her up in his arms as smoothly as if his vision was perfect.

“I made us a meal,” she protested half-heartedly.

“It will keep,” he growled. “Where is the bedroom?”

“Four steps to the right, through the doorway, then right into the bedroom.”

He was moving before she even stopped speaking.

“Help yourself to the food,” she called over his shoulder to T’gaira, catching the old warrior with an amused look on his face.

T’gaira shook his head. “Do not concern yourself with me. We will be fine, right, Budra?”

To her astonishment, the crileth had remained in the main room, but before she had time to consider it, Tren had slammed the bedroom door behind them. He found the bed, mainly by almost tripping over it, and lowered her carefully to the mattress.

Chapter Ten

T’renan followed his mate down onto the mattress. The running, the ability to move freely, had reminded him of what it felt like to be a true warrior once again. Desire for Emlan surged through his body, but he wished desperately to be able to see her beloved face. So many times in the mines he had awoken from dreaming about her, feeling as if she had been there with him, only to find himself alone once more.

“Are you really here, Emlan?” he asked, suddenly desperate to hear her voice, to reassure himself that she was truly here with him.

“Yes, Tren. I’m here.”

Her small soft hand reached up and caressed his cheek.

“I wish that I could see your face.”

“If you can’t see me with your eyes, then see me with your hands,” she urged.

She brought one of his fingers to her face and used it to trace her features. All he could see was the faint dark blur of his finger against the pale circle of her face, but he could feel the straight little nose, the high delicate cheekbones, and the plump curve of her luscious mouth. He brought his mouth down to follow the same path, kissing each small feature, and lingering over her delicious lips. The kiss started off delicately, almost an exploration, but he rapidly found himself succumbing to the pleasure she created in him.

The cock that had stiffened into rigid awareness when he walked in from the beach and heard her laughing, ached and demanded. He rubbed it against the sheet, determined to take his time.

“I want to see all of you this way,” he growled, and she arched into his arms.

He traced a hand down the smooth column of her neck, his hand large enough to wrap around and squeeze gently, demonstrating his ownership. Her breath caught, but the delectable scent of her arousal increased. He followed it with kisses, small sucking kisses that let him taste her soft flesh.

He lingered over the delicate line of her collarbone, despite the increasing urgency in his body. Her breasts, too, required an extended visit—the small plump mounds made for his hand and the taut little nipples a delicious treat to suck and nibble.

By the time he reached the haven of her delicious cunt she was writhing beneath him, but he was determined to take his time. Her swollen clit was another reason to linger, licking and sucking the hardened nub. Her hands went to the base of his horns, sending a streak of fire from the sensitive area as she tried to urge him on, but still he refused to hurry.

Temporarily abandoning the needy pearl, he devoted himself to exploring her wet swollen lips before plunging his tongue into the tight entrance of her body. She gasped and cried out and he felt her convulse around him in exquisite waves of ecstasy.

He licked up every drop of her pleasure before returning to her clit, still swollen and throbbing. Gently stroking the exposed surface, he teased her until she was quivering beneath him, then entered her with one thick finger. She clamped down on it and he groaned, knowing only too well how that tight silken fist would feel around his throbbing cock.

But still he wanted more. He added a second finger to the impossibly small channel and stroked gently in and out as she tried to hurry him.

“I am in control, Emlan,” he growled, and she shivered as the vibrations of his growl skated across her clit.

Withdrawing his fingers to her moan of disappointment, he went lower, circling her tiny rear entrance. She caught her breath and her hands tightened on his horns, but she did not protest. He probed delicately at the small hole, spreading her copious slickness until he could ease the very tip of his finger inside. They moaned simultaneously. She was even tighter there, tighter and hotter, and he wanted to take her there, to know that every part of her body belonged to him. He increased his attention on her clit, keeping her on the edge of ecstasy as he cautiously pushed deeper with first one finger, then, as he pushed her over the edge into a tumultuous climax, a second.

She called out his name, her body shaking in long waves of pleasure as she tightened even further around him.

He could wait no longer. She was still shuddering when he pulled his fingers free and rose up on the bed, frantically finding the entrance to her tight little cunt and plunging inside. She cried out again and her channel fluttered wildly around him but he was too far gone to pause, surging in and out of her in a frantic desperate rhythm as his balls tightened and a line of fire streaked down his spine and he finally, finally exploded deep inside his female.

Tren collapsed down over her, and Emlan put her arms around his neck, enjoying the heavy weight of his body over hers. She understood what he had been saying. So many times over the years she had dreamed of him only to wake up and find she was alone. Their love making—intimate, sweaty, real—was the perfect antidote to those fears.

“I love you so much, my L’chka,” he whispered in her ear.

“I love you too, my warrior. Promise me that we will never be parted again.”

“Never,” he swore. He pulled her even tighter, but she didn’t object, only returning his grip with equal fervor.

The next week passed in a haze of contented bliss. Tren gradually relaxed, the anger that seem to haunt him rarely appearing. A few times he lost his temper with T’gaira, but the old warrior only sniffed and suggested another run. The two of them spent several hours each day running along the beach and T’gaira never flinched, although she noticed how stiffly he moved each morning. He also persuaded Tren to resume the Yehrin training sessions that all of the warriors practiced every day, gruffly but patiently teaching him how to maneuver despite his reduced vision.

Tren spent every other moment of the day with her, almost always touching her in some fashion. He seemed endlessly fascinated by even the smallest details of her life without him. The one thing she learned to avoid was any mention of Harvey. The subject of her former fiancé almost always brought on one of his fits of anger.

He told her very little of his time in the mines, but he described finding Budra and some of the lengths he’d had to go to in order to raise her. It was no wonder to her that the bond between the two was so strong. He also mentioned his fellow escapee, Okami, with a mixture of resentment and admiration. She suspected that he actually liked the other male but was too stubborn to admit it.

While the warriors exercised, she spent some time reading but most of the time she ended up just watching them. In some ways, it was just as it had always been with Tren a constant part of her life. He was still her friend, her protector, her confidant, but now he was her lover as well and that filled her heart with joy. The emptiness she had felt inside her while he was gone now overflowed with happiness.

As she watched Tren and T’gaira train, their shirtless bodies glistening in the warm sun, she remembered the previous night. Her nipples tingled, remembering the way he had feasted on them for what seemed like hours, kissing and sucking and nipping at the taut flesh until she was on fire with longing. He never seemed sated, his hunger for her a constant demand, and she met him just as eagerly.

The house bell chimed softly in the distance and she remembered that there was a delivery due today. She and T’gaira shared the cooking duties. He had surprised her by volunteering, but he seemed to enjoy the domestic activity much more than she would have anticipated. He never seemed more relaxed than when he was puttering around the kitchen putting together a meal. With the frequent exercise, both males ate extraordinary amounts, and this was the second time they’d had the kitchen restocked. She pulled a cover-up over her swimsuit and went to get the delivery. When she opened the door, she froze.

Instead of the Eccalian delivery person she expected, Harvey stood on the doorstep. He looked terrible. The formal dress he was wearing swamped his thin frame. He had never been heavy, but he was now almost skeletal. His too long brown hair hung over his eyes.

“Harvey?” she asked, unable to believe her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Budra had been surveying him doubtfully, but she suddenly yowled, and he flinched.

“What is that?”

She put a soothing hand on Budra’s head, but the crileth continued to emit a low continuous growl and Emlan could tell that her body was poised for attack.

“She is trying to protect me. Listen, I think you had better leave.”

“But, Emlan—”

Whatever he was going to say was obliterated by a harsh roar as Tren suddenly appeared beside her.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Harvey’s gaze traveled over Tren’s big body, taking in his size, and lingered on the goggles that still covered his eyes.

“I’m Harvey,” he said nervously. “I’m Emlan’s fiancé—”

With an outraged cry, Tren attacked. His fully extended claws fastened around Harvey’s thin neck. For a moment, Emlan was too shocked to move, then she dashed forward, trying to insert herself between the two.

“Stop it, Tren. You’re going to kill him.”

She yanked unavailingly at his hands, but his muscles were like ropes of steel beneath her fingers.

“T’gaira!” she cried, but the other warrior was already there. He was more successful in forcing Tren to release his grip but Tren grew even wilder at the loss of his prey. He threw out his hand and inadvertently struck a glancing blow to Emlan’s cheekbone. She cried out in pain and he immediately focused on her, dropping Harvey’s limp body to the ground.

“Emlan! Are you injured?”

The throbbing in her face was making her dizzy but behind Tren she could see T’gaira assisting Harvey to his feet. Determined to get Tren away from him, she swayed against him.

“I think I need to lie down.”

With an agonized sound, he lifted her into his arms and carried her back into the house, Harvey apparently forgotten completely. He took her straight into the bedroom, carrying her as if she would shatter before placing her carefully on the bed.

“Tell me how you are injured,” he said urgently. “Fuck. I cannot even see to attend to you.”

The throbbing had started to subside, although she suspected she was going to have a tremendous bruise.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “It was just a shock.”

He knelt on the floor next to her. “I am so sorry.”

“Should be,” T’gaira growled from the doorway. “Told you that you had to deal with the anger.”

“I know,” Tren said, his face twisted with pain.

She couldn’t stand to see him that way and sat up, putting her arms around his neck and drawing him close.

“You have much to be angry about, my warrior,” she said softly. “I am furious on your behalf, but I also think that if you do not let this anger go, you will not be able to live in peace. Nor will I.”

“You will not leave me,” he roared immediately, but she could hear the desperation behind the order.

“No, of course I won’t. But we need to work through this. Together.”

“Emlan,” he groaned, and cupped her face with exquisite delicacy. “I wish only to be worthy of you.”

“I know,” she said softly, and pulled him closer. Over his shoulder, she could see T’gaira frowning at them.

Chapter Eleven

Even though he could not see T’gaira, T’renan could feel the weight of the older warrior’s disapproval but it was nothing compared to his own sense of loathing. How could he have let his L’chka be hurt? And at his hand?

When he had heard Budra yowl and he had hurried to the door to find another male present, his instincts immediately flamed. Then, when the human introduced himself with his false claim on Emlan, rage had overtaken him. Some distant part had retained enough control to prevent him from killing the fragile male, but he had wanted to hurt him, to make him suffer, and that horrified him. A warrior used his strength to protect his loved ones and to defeat his enemies, he did not use it to torture the weak.

“I am so sorry,” he said again, and felt Emlan’s arms tighten around his neck.

“I know you did not mean to hurt me,” she said softly, but he did not feel worthy of accepting her forgiveness.

With an anguished noise, he gently removed her hands and pushed himself to his feet.

“T’gaira, take care of her.”

Before either one of them could object, he strode out onto the veranda, then down through the thick sand to the smooth surface at the water’s edge and began to run. Days of repeating the same path made it easy for him to pick up the small indications of his location. He ran for the far end of the beach, then returned, over and over again until his lungs were burning, his legs aching, and his hearts pounding in his chest.

He was so obsessed that he did not catch T’gaira’s scent until the older male spoke.

“Enough, boy,” he growled. “Punishing your body will not ease your mind.”

Reluctantly, he came to a halt. The old warrior was right. No matter how hard he ran, he could not outrun the knowledge that he had harmed his L’chka.

“I do not know what to do,” he confessed. The statement startled him as much as he was sure that it startled T’gaira. A Yehrin warrior should not be so uncertain.

His trembling legs urged him to the ground, and he collapsed onto the cool smooth sand. The tide had come in while he was running, and small waves splashed around his feet. For one dreadful moment, he considered walking into that water until the darkness closed overhead. He could not swim, and he would sink into the depths with no struggle.

A rock-hard hand cuffed the back of his head.

“Stop that. You will not leave her again.”

“How did you—” He shook his head, it didn’t matter. T’gaira was correct; he couldn’t leave Emlan, no matter how unworthy he felt at the moment.

“Have a suggestion,” T’gaira said slowly. “You will not like it. Not sure that I like it. But perhaps it will help.”

He caught the flicker of movement that indicated a shrug.

“What is your suggestion?”

“The people of this planet practice something called The Way, performing a series of guided motions. It is similar to our training exercises, but it is designed to place the mind and body in harmony.”

“I do not understand. You want me to perform Eccalian training exercises? You do not think that we train hard enough?”

“It is not the physical demands that I think would be beneficial. The emphasis is on finding peace and harmony through the motions.”

He stared in the direction of the other warrior. What T’gaira was proposing sounded ridiculous, and yet he had found even the familiar routine of the Yehrin exercises to exert a soothing influence. And if it would help teach him to control his anger…

“I would be willing to consider this,” he said.

“Good. I will arrange a session.” T’gaira rose to his feet. “If you have finished punishing yourself, your L’chka is waiting for you.”

“How can I face her?”

The older male snorted. “Find your courage, boy. She needs you.”

A strong gnarled hand reached down and yanked him to his feet.

“Been with her for eight years now. And she has never been truly happy until now. Do not fuck that up.”

A startled laugh escaped him, even though he could hear the underlying threat in T’gaira’s voice. They made their way back up to the villa and he could just make out Emlan’s slim figure waiting for him, Budra at her side. He went directly to her.

“I believe I must apologize again.”

“No, my warrior. We do not need apologies between us.”

She stepped into him, tugging his head down until she could kiss him. There was no urgency to her kiss, just a comforting reassurance that she was with him. Despite that, his shaft stiffened as it always did when he was this close to her. She pressed a little closer, close enough that he knew that she felt his need.

“Tonight,” she promised.

The rest of the day passed quietly. Exhaustion weighed on T’renan, both the exhaustion of his mindless running and the weight of his guilt. For the first time, he found himself picking at his meal even though he usually relished the delicious variety of food now available to him. Emlan made casual conversation, talking about a new recipe that she wished to try and wondering about some of the bird life in the area. T’gaira responded to her but T’renan could not force a relaxation he did not feel. Budra spent the meal with her head pressed against his knee, instead of prowling for crumbs as she usually did, and he found himself burying his fingers in the thick fur at the base of her spikes.

As soon as the meal was finished, Emlan reached for his hand.

“Okay, that’s enough brooding. Come with me.”

He did not deserve to be with her. “I was considering another run.”

“No,” she said firmly. “You have done enough running for one day. It’s my turn.”

If she still wanted him, he could not resist. He rose to his feet and let her lead him away from the table.

He had expected her to lead him to the bedroom, but to his surprise, she took him out on the veranda and then down to the small garden that flanked the house. The sun had set, and he caught only a faint glow from the lights bracketing the walkway. He did not mind the darkness—in the darkness, no one could see, and he was not alone.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere new,” she teased, then squeaked and clutched his arm as she tripped on the path. “You are much better at finding your way in the dark than I am,” she muttered.

He realized she was correct. His body had begun to adjust for the lack of sight and the small clues in his surroundings helped to direct him.

They came to a halt at the far end of the garden. The warm air, redolent with the scents of the surrounding jungle, softly caressed them and only the sounds of insects and the gentle rush of the waves broke the silence.

“There is a seat behind you,” Emlan said. “But before you sit down…”

Her nimble fingers reached for the catch fastening his pants and with a quick jerk, she freed his body to the evening air. He wore nothing else.

“And what of you?” he asked.

He heard the soft rustle of fabric and then felt her press up against him, warm and soft and naked.

“Emlan,” he groaned. His ever-ready cock was at full attention, but he still did not feel as if he deserved her.

“Now lie down,” she ordered, ignoring his hesitation. “Please.”

His mind and his body were at war, but he could not resist his L’chka’s soft plea. He laid back on the wide padded bench. It was not designed for a Yehrin, and his feet still rested on the ground, but it was surprisingly comfortable. A comfort that was rapidly lost in desire when she climbed over him. Her knees rested on either side of his waist, the soft curves of her buttocks teasing his throbbing cock as she leaned forward and kissed him gently.

“You got to see me with your hands. Now it is my turn.”

With agonizing slowness, she repeated his explorations, subjecting his horns, his face, his neck to the pleasurable torment of her soft fingers and even softer mouth. Twice he tried to reach for her and each time, she laughed and told him to stop.

“I like this,” she purred as she made her way slowly down his chest. “I know you so well, but I have never discovered you this way before.”

He recognized the truth in her statement—there was an unexpected intimacy in the lack of light, in the slow touches, in the small wet kisses. But then she reached his erection and all of his thoughts disappeared in the overwhelming rush of desire.

She touched him there just as slowly, just as deliberately, and he clenched his fists on the frame of the bench to avoid seizing her. Her fingers whispered up and down his cock, exploring the slightly ridged texture. She tried to squeeze the wide base, but her hand was too small. As she added a second hand, she laughed, a warm rush of air that made him jerk.

“You’re so big,” she whispered. “But we fit together so well.”

She squeezed gently and a line of fire streaked down his spine.

“Harder,” he urged.

Her small hands tightened, and he groaned. And then she licked him, one full wet stroke across the head of his cock taking him by surprise. With a muffled cry, he exploded, his seed erupting into the air in a rush of liquid heat as his hips jerked in helpless pleasure.

“Emlan.” He cupped her cheek and felt the same sticky warmth that now covered his stomach and chest. “I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize. I love that you want me so much.”

“Always,” he assured her. He pulled her up his body and kissed her, delighting in the combined taste of the two of them. “And now it is my turn.”

He reversed their positions and his doubts disappeared in the need to pleasure his mate.

The next day, T’gaira took T’renan to see the Eccalian training master. He asked Emlan to remain behind. He did not want to leave her, but neither did he want her to see him struggle with his attempts to overcome his rage. But leaving her proved unexpectedly difficult. He couldn’t help but remember the last time they had parted, and how long they had been apart. The thought of leaving her unprotected also weighed on him.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him.

“You will remain within the villa grounds? With the alarm on?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you will not answer the door under any circumstances?” There had been no further sign of the human male and T’gaira had confirmed that the worthless male had booked a passage off the planet and taken to his bed.

“No, Tren. I’ll be perfectly safe. Besides, Budra will keep watch over me, won’t you, girl?” The crileth gave her odd cry and Emlan laughed. “There, you see?”

She reached up and kissed his cheek and he reluctantly departed.

As soon as they entered the complex, he understood why T’gaira wanted to bring him here. A feeling of serenity seemed to fill the air. Tall wooden posts supported a large roof structure, but all four sides were open to their surroundings, letting in light and air. The sound of water trickling over rocks added to the peaceful ambiance. Woven mats cushioned his feet and he caught the smoky aroma of incense.

“This is Master Chan Caina,” T’gaira said as a small figure in white approached.

“I am pleased to meet you, Commander T’renan. May I place my hands on you?”

He immediately stiffened, then nodded reluctantly. This is for Emlan, he reminded himself.

Chan Caina circled him, lightly touching his ankles, wrists, stomach, chest, and forehead. Despite his reluctance, the brief warm touches were oddly soothing.

“I see,” Chan Caina said thoughtfully. “You have much anger in you.”

“I have much to be angry about,” he growled.

“No doubt. But does your rage benefit you?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I do not know how to eliminate it.”

“We use The Way to align our energy. Not to eliminate it, but to redirect it so that it flows through us.”

“I am willing to try.”

“There is no try. You will do it, or you will not.”

“I will do it.”

“Then let us begin. I will guide you through the movements.”

The routine was simple enough, but he found it surprisingly challenging to force himself to move with the required slowness, to breathe with the motions. When the session came to a close, he was dripping with sweat, but he felt lighter.

“I would like to return.”

“You would be most welcome.”

Oddly enough, the session seemed to have helped with his sensitivity to light. Every day for the next week they returned for an additional lesson and by the third time, he was finally able to discard the hated goggles. Each time he left Master Chan Caina, he felt lighter, more in control.

The feeling of control lasted until they returned to the villa on the seventh day. The front door was still locked, but when they went inside, Emlan did not come to greet them as usual. Budra was missing as well.

“Emlan?” he called, his voice echoing through the empty dwelling.

“Perhaps she is sleeping,” T’gaira suggested.

The bedroom was empty, as was the veranda.

“Would she have gone for a walk?” he asked, trying to fight back his rising panic.

“Promised not to leave,” T’gaira said grimly. “Not one to break a promise. Can you scent anything?”

Emlan’s delectable fragrance still hung heavy in the air, but there was another scent—sharp, chemical—and beneath it… the world went red. The human male had been here.

Chapter Twelve

Emlan woke to a pounding headache. She cautiously opened an eye, only to squeeze it shut again as a shaft of sunlight blinded her. Their bed didn’t receive direct sunlight. Where was she?

Her head throbbed, her mouth felt parched, and her stomach rolled queasily. With her eyes still closed, she tried to sit up, only to realize that her hands were tied to some kind of frame. Her eyes snapped open, ignoring the painful light, as she tried to take in her surroundings. Nothing about the location was familiar. She was in a huge empty room with tall wooden walls. The only opening she could see was a pair of large double doors at the far end of the space. A row of high windows ran down the two side walls, and the sunlight angling through them assaulted her eyes and glanced off the dust motes floating lazily in the air.

Her feet were also tied, but she managed to raise her head enough to find she was fastened to a large bed, piled high with pillows covered in luxuriant fabrics. The rich textures and gaudy colors were a shocking contrast to the utilitarian surroundings. What the fuck? How had she ended up here?

The last thing she remembered was being back at their villa. Tren and T’gaira had left to meet with the Eccalian training master. As always, she had wanted to go with him, but this was the only time since they had been reunited when he chose to leave her. Despite her momentarily hurt feelings, she thought she understood. He saw his lack of control as a weakness and he did not want to expose it to her, but it was still hard to watch him leave, even though she did her best to disguise her reluctance. Every time he left her, she remembered how long they had been separated the last time.

Today she had prowled restlessly around the villa, Budra at her side, but eventually she took a book and went out on the veranda. While she tried to read, Budra stretched out in the sun. The quiet rush of the waves and the distant sounds of bird song finally relaxed her to the point where she drifted off. Something had disturbed her sleep, and now she tried to remember what it had been… yes, that was it, she had heard Budra yowl. But before she could come fully awake, there had been a sharp sting to her neck, like a painful insect bite. Now that she remembered, she could feel it throbbing and she instinctively tried to raise her hand to it, only to be stopped by the rope securing her wrist.

Once more, she raised her head as far she could, searching for anything in her surroundings that might let her know where she was being held, or who was holding her. As the daughter of a planetary supreme commander, it was not unthinkable that she might be kidnapped and held for ransom, but to follow her here to this obscure planet? It did not seem logical. The bed argued a more sinister reason for her kidnapping but at least she was still fully clothed.

She strained her ears but could hear very little other than the sound of the ocean and the calling of sea birds. A faint distant clanging tugged at her memory. She had heard that sound before, but where? A moment later, she heard a long low horn and the memory snapped into place. When she had been on Eccalia before, the merchants with whom they were dealing had taken them down to the docks. Rows of tall wooden warehouses had stretched out to either side of the shipping area. The clanging must be from a ship being loaded, while the horn indicated a departing ship.

Her heart sank as she remembered the deserted warehouses. From her recollection, the majority of them were only used once a year when the fishing season came to a close and all of the islanders brought in their goods to trade. She strained her ears again, listening for any signs of people nearby, but she heard only the wind and the waves and the distant clanging. Should she call out? The very fact that she was not gagged indicated that her kidnapper was not worried about her sounding an alarm and if she did call out, perhaps it would only attract his attention.

The ache in her head and the lingering effects of whatever drug she had been given were having the inevitable effect on her body. As much as she wanted to keep watch, weariness overcame her, and she dropped off to sleep.

When she woke the second time, the sun was no longer shining directly through the high windows. Instead, the warm golden glow of late afternoon filled the space. Her headache had subsided although her stomach still complained when she shifted restlessly. Her bladder was also making itself known with increasing urgency. Just as she was grimly considering the possibility that she might be unable to wait much longer, one of the tall doors at the far end of the room opened and a cloaked figure slipped inside.

She watched warily as he approached. The Eccalians were short and round with deep blue skin and tufts of white hair. The stranger was much too tall and thin to be a native, but it wasn’t until he reached the foot of the bed, that she recognized him.

“Harvey?”

He threw back the hood of his cloak, his eyes wild but a delighted smile on his face. “I knew you’d recognize me. I knew it.”

“As far as I know, you’re the only other human on the planet,” she said dryly. Her stomach twisted uneasily but she tried to keep her face calm. “What are you doing here? You have to help me out of these ties.”

“Do you mean that?” he asked eagerly.

“Of course, I mean it. Let me free.”

“Not that.” He waved an impatient hand. “That you’re the only other human. You think of yourself as human, don’t you?”

“I suppose, but of course, I’m Yehrin as well.”

His face darkened, the sudden transition from boyish enthusiasm to angry man startling her.

“That’s the bad part. The part that took you away from me.”

“Harvey, I don’t understand what you’re talking about, but can you please let me free? I really need to pee.”

He looked as shocked as if the idea of someone urinating had never occurred to him.

“I didn’t think of that,” he said, confirming her suspicions.

Her heart sank. Until that moment she had been trying to convince herself that it was a terrible misunderstanding and that he had just happened to find her.

“Harvey, did you bring me here?”

“Of course. I knew you were waiting for me to rescue you.”

“Why did you drug me?”

He started to pace, his footsteps jerky and his hands waving wildly. “I had to. Surely, you see that. I didn’t know how long those monsters would be gone. Or if I gave that horrible bear thing enough poison.”

“Poison? You poisoned Budra?” For the first time, horrified tears filled her eyes.

“Well, I had to get it out of the way. You must understand that?” He looked aghast at the sight of her tears. “You were always too soft-hearted about animals. But when we get back to Earth, I’ll get you a puppy of your very own.”

“Back to Earth?” she repeated slowly, her heart still aching for the crileth. Please God let him have misjudged the amount.

“Of course. As soon as I fix you, we’ll head back there, to live the life we were supposed to have, and we’ll never have to see another one of these horrible alien planets.”

She wasn’t sure which part of his statement appalled her more and she found herself focusing on the last part. “Horrible alien planets? I don’t understand. Why did you go into interstellar business if you hate going to other planets?”

“Because you did, of course.” He peered at her anxiously, like a dog begging for a treat. “I knew your demon blood was calling to you, so I had to come along to protect you. And I was sure that once we were married, I could cast it out of you.”

She suddenly remembered the day they had met in freshman biology. They had chatted casually, and she had told him her intended major and he had immediately told her that he was majoring in it as well. A cold chill ran up her spine and she shivered. The movement made her remember the demands of her body. It was almost a relief to focus on that rather that vein of insanity she was discovering.

“Harvey, I really need to pee. Can you please untie me?”

“I’m not sure that it’s safe. Not while your demon side is still showing.” He gestured at her horns and she had to hide a flinch. All this time she had thought he saw her as just another person and he had spent the past eight years thinking that she was a demon. What else had he concealed from her?

“I don’t want to spoil the bed,” she said.

“You like it, don’t you? I picked all your favorite colors.”

He had gotten that wrong as well, but she wasn’t about to argue with him. All she needed was to be untied and she would be long gone.

“I can see that you did, and it was very thoughtful of you. You don’t want me to ruin it, do you?”

He looked thoughtful, then finally reached down and untied one ankle. As he reached for the other, her body tensed but he only freed it for a brief second before tying both ankles together a foot apart, effectively hobbling her. He did the same with her hands, then secured them both to another piece of rope. Even with her wrists tied, if she could get the rope around his neck…

Before she had a chance to come up with a viable plan, he stepped back and tugged on the lead rope. “Up,” he ordered.

With no other choice, she shuffled across the floor after him as he led her to the door and around to one side of the building. He had chosen the last warehouse in the row, backing up against the heavy vegetation that covered most of Eccalia. She looked around desperately but there was no one in sight and the sun was already sinking below the horizon. Only a few lights still shone in the distant port. She was weighing the odds of screaming for help, when a cold metal knife pricked her throat.

“No noise, Emlan,” Harvey warned, his voice low and dangerous. “You can still be a good wife to me with your vocal cords severed.”

A second later, the anxious Harvey was back, tittering nervously as he gestured at a nearby bush.

“Go ahead. I won’t look. But don’t make any noise. We don’t like that.”

Her face burned with embarrassment as she awkwardly relieved herself, but he kept his word and didn’t look. If she could just get away from him and hide in the jungle… She knew to her core that Tren was already searching for her and wouldn’t stop until she was found but she needed to buy some time until then. If she could just get the knife away from him long enough to cut the tie between her ankles, she could run. But before she could force her still fuzzy mind to come up with a plan, he was yanking on the rope once more.

Back inside the building, he set about retying her. After he fastened her right ankle to the bed frame, he freed her other foot and she tried to take him off guard, kicking out at him. He caught her ankle, squeezing it cruelly between surprisingly strong fingers.

“The demon is strong in you tonight,” he hissed, digging his fingers painfully into her flesh as she fought not to cry out. But then his hand started stroking her instead and that was even worse. He cast a lustful look at her body, his eyes burning the way they had once before. “Once the demon has been removed, you are mine, Emlan.”

Shuddering, she didn’t resist as he finished tying her back in place. When he was through, she finally found the courage to ask. “How are you planning on removing the demon?”

The cruel look vanished as he almost bounced over to a small table against the wall and dragged it closer, quivering with excitement.

“As soon as the moon sets, I’m going to take the demon from you.”

He threw back the cloth to reveal a tray of medical instruments including… a saw?

“I’m sure once the horns are gone, you’ll be completely human again,” he said, but he was wringing his hands and he wouldn’t look at her.

For a moment she didn’t understand. Having her small horns removed would be painful, but she could endure it. Then she remembered the other outward sign of her Yehrin heritage—her eyes. The crazy bastard was going to take her eyes.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time night fell, T’renan was frantic with fear and rage. He had tried following the scent trail, but it had only taken him through the surrounding jungle, ending at the road. They had discovered Budra unconscious in the garden, her mouth covered in blue foam and obviously poisoned. Fortunately, she had vomited up part of the poisoned meat and the vet T’gaira called had been able to administer an antidote. She followed him around the villa now, her steps still shaky as she whined anxiously.

“I know, girl. I feel the same way,” he muttered as he waited for T’gaira to finish his conversation. The need for action tugged at him but the older warrior had convinced him to wait while he alerted the official channels first. The Yehrin only maintained a small presence on Eccalia, but he was calling in every one of their resources.

“Nothing at the space port,” T’gaira reported finally. “That means they are still on the planet. Our officers are stationed there and will ensure that no ship leaves without a complete search. The human male did not check out of his hotel but has not returned. Officers are stationed there as well, and the locals have been notified to look for them.”

“And the docks?”

“No humans on any of the commercial ferries.”

T’gaira’s words gave him little comfort. Many of the natives who lived here had boats either for business or for pleasure. But would they take on an unknown human? Unless the male had some connections here…

“You were with Emlan when she was here before, correct?” he asked.

“Yes,” T’gaira said gruffly. T’renan could hear the strain in his voice as well.

“Who did the male meet with? Did he make any friends?”

A blurred headshake. “Never paid much attention to him. I was a fool.”

He smashed his fist against the wall, welcoming the pain that rocketed up his arm. “I have to find her.”

After a long silence, T’gaira grunted thoughtfully. “They dealt primarily with Lady Chara Alldan. Might know something.”

“Let us go,” he said, already heading for the door. Budra tried to follow him but he was still too concerned about her weakness to allow the crileth to accompany them. “No, girl. You stay here. In case she returns,” he added with little conviction.

“Who is this Lady Chara Alldan?” he asked as T’gaira drove through the dark streets.

“Acts like a silly female, but she is not.” The warrior sounded reluctantly impressed. “Head of the Interstellar Trading Union on Eccalia. Drives a hard bargain.”

As soon as they arrived at the female’s house, T’renan understood what T’gaira meant. He had a vague impression of a large residence, decorated in soft pastels and filled with the scent of flowers, but he was too worried to pay much attention. A tiny female swathed in white robes, Lady Chara Alldan fluttered around anxiously while her servants offered them tea and cakes. Cakes? When his L’chka was missing? He wanted to snatch her by the neck and demand that she talk to him, but instead, he forced himself to adjust his pose and take a few deep breaths the way Master Chan Caina had taught him.

“Oh, do you follow The Way?” she asked immediately, and he saw her restless movements cease.

“I am… beginning,” he said shortly. “Lady Chara Alldan, we are grateful for your hospitality, but we are here on an urgent matter and we need your help. The human male has stolen my female and I am afraid—” terrified “—that he might harm her.”

“Your female?” Her voice sharpened. “He said that she belonged to him.”

“Never!” His cry echoed through the room and he had to stop himself from punching the wall again.

“I must admit, I did wonder,” she said thoughtfully. “It was always easy to see that he was obsessed with her, but she never treated him with anything other than friendship.”

Definitely not a silly female.

“When did he say this to you?” he asked urgently.

“Perhaps two nights ago? He said she was recovering from an illness and he wanted to take her somewhere quiet to relax.”

Illness? His hearts pounded.

“Where did you suggest he go?”

“Tropana. My family had a small hotel there—very quiet, very luxurious. I offered him an excellent rate.” From the tone of her voice, she had grossly overcharged him. “The boat leaves tomorrow morning from the West Dock.”

That still left tonight, but at least it was a clue.

“We will go there at once. Thank you,” he added hastily, but sincerely, as he headed for the door.

“Of course. I will also spread the word among my colleagues. Please let me know when you find her.” Her voice dropped to a throaty purr. “My old friend T’gaira can bring me the news.”

“Old friend?” he asked as they drove away.

The older warrior cleared his throat. “Spent some time together.”

Under other circumstances he would have enjoyed the male’s obvious discomfort, but he was too worried about Emlan. Why had the male said that Emlan was ill? Was it because he meant to keep her under sedation or for some more nefarious reason? If the human harmed his L’chka, T’renan would break every bone in his body, one at a time.

His anger kept him occupied all the way to the West Dock, but when T’gaira brought their vehicle to a halt, they both swore. Even he could see that only a few central lights illuminated the docks. The rest of the area was dark and still except for the sounds of the water.

“Fuck.” T’gaira swore, breaking the silence. “My fault. Never liked the male but never took him seriously. Thought he was too weak. I failed her.”

“No, you did not. You kept her safe while I was gone. I did not believe that he would return either. I failed her.”

A rough hand briefly clasped his. “We will find her.”

“He must be somewhere close by if he plans to leave in the morning.” He refused to think of the possibility that the planned trip was simply a diversion. “Are there any hotels near here?”

“Yes, but they are already being searched.” T’gaira grunted. “But there are warehouses on both sides of the docks. They could offer concealment.”

“Then let us search,” he said immediately, anxious for the chance to do something—anything—that might help. “If we separate, we can cover more ground.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can still use my other senses. And the dark makes no difference to me.”

T’gaira didn’t argue but led him to the first building. “They form a straight line around the curve of the bay. At this time of year, only the first few will be in use. I will head in the other direction and meet you back here.”

T’renan was already moving. One hand traced the wall, while he let the scents of the evening surround him. This building held the salty aroma of dried fish and he didn’t pause. In some ways, this was easier than in the light. His claws gripped the ground lightly, testing the surface with each step, but he soon found a rhythm that allowed him to move with surprising speed. He passed three more occupied warehouses before he reached the section of empty buildings.

Scents drifted from each one, but they were old and not human. Despair threatened to overtake him as the distance between each building increased and he realized that he was reaching the end of the line. He leaned against the last building, praying that T’gaira had been successful. The wind shifted and he caught it—a faint whimper and the hint of Emlan’s fragrance. There must be another warehouse.

Forcing himself to move in the same careful rhythm, he made it across the open space and found the building. His fingers against the wall, he followed it around the corner until he reached a set of doors. Emlan’s scent was stronger here and his hearts beat faster as he tried to think rationally, but then he heard another whimper and rational thought disappeared. He maintained just enough control to open the door as silently as he could and slip inside.

A distant light at the far end of the space made a bright spot in his vision and he headed for it as quietly as possible. He had made it less than half the distance before a voice rang out.

“Stop right there, Yehrin.” The male’s voice was high and shrill, with an unbalanced note that made his skin crawl. “I know you can’t see but I have a knife to her throat. She’s mine—she’s always been mine—and if I can’t have her, no one can.”

The rage boiled in his blood and reddened his vision, but Emlan’s safety was at stake. He had to control it. Fighting down the urge to charge, he took one slow, careful step across the floor. From the direction of the voice and the sickening scent of madness, his opponent was at the far end of the room. And so was Emlan. He caught the pungent tang of her fear and clenched his fists until his claws drew blood to prevent himself from lunging forward.

“I said stop,” Harvey cried.

“What did you say?” Another step.

“You can’t hear, either? Fuck, Emlan. You picked this useless alien over me?”

While the human was ranting, he managed two more steps. The light was closer now, but the glow distracted him, throwing everything else deeper into darkness. A shadow flickered across it.

“I said stop.” The voice had changed, now low and filled with menace.

Was there another male present? No, he could only detect Emlan and the sour tang of the human. Why hadn’t she spoken?

“Emlan,” he called.

“She can’t speak to you. She’s a little tied up.” The male giggled, high-pitched once more. “We just started our little operation.”

A cold chill slid down his spine. “Operation?”

“I’m taking the demon out of her. Then she’ll be all mine.” The voice went cold again. “Of course, I will have to punish her for allowing you to have her first.”

He had managed another step. His rage beat at him like a pounding fist, urging him to leap for the male, but he couldn’t be sure of his location and he couldn’t take the chance with his L’chka’s safety. Instead, he focused on the light. In the dark, the odds would be in his favor.

“I said stop!” Shrill again, and perhaps easier to manipulate.

“What demon?” he asked, forcing a casual tone in his voice.

“The demon you fucking aliens put into her. The one that is keeping her from me.”

He gained another two steps. The light was to his right. The voice, and presumably Emlan, was to his left. Which one did he go for?

Now that he was closer, he caught the faint coppery tang of blood beneath Emlan’s scent and his claws lengthened, ready to destroy the male who had harmed his mate. He remembered the male’s threat about a knife and made his decision. He sprang for the light.

Chapter Fourteen

Emlan watched in agonized silence as Tren approached. Harvey had gagged her before he began his “operation” even though she had begged him not to cover her mouth. It had taken a while for him to work himself up to the process. She had been helpless to do anything but watch him pace around the empty warehouse, arguing with himself. The two sides of him had become very clear and she couldn’t decide which was worse. When he turned cold and mean her skin crawled, but he seemed somewhat more rational. The boyish Harvey was more like the man she had always known, but he was clearly deranged, and his shrill giggle would haunt her nightmares.

About an hour after full darkness had descended, he finally pulled the tray of implements closer to the bed.

“This is for your own good, Emlan,” he assured her nervously. “This is the only way we can be together.”

Unable to speak, all she could do was glare at him. Some of her fierceness faded when he picked up the saw, the light catching on the gleaming blade. Please, Tren, please hurry.

His hands shook so much she wasn’t sure that he would be able to go through with it, but the colder version of Harvey eventually took over. He grabbed one of her small horns and drew the saw across the base. A streak of pain seared through her head and she couldn’t help crying out behind her gag. A sticky wetness slid down her face and she knew that she was bleeding.

Harvey drew back, losing what little color he had in his face.

“You’re bleeding,” he accused her, as if she was doing it just to upset him.

She couldn’t help it. Despite the lingering pain, she rolled her eyes. What had he expected?

His complexion took on a greenish tinge and for a moment she thought that he might rethink his ridiculous plan, but once again his face hardened. He made another stroke, and the pain intensified, but he was still at the surface layer and she wondered if the saw would be adequate for the job. Once again, he started muttering to himself and while he was pacing back and forth, one of the warehouse doors slid open and she saw Tren enter. Her pulse pounded with relief and before she could remind herself to keep her face calm, Harvey saw her expression.

When he whirled around and saw Tren approaching, he bent over the bed, holding the cold metal of the saw to her throat. His high-pitched threats made Tren slow down, but he didn’t stop coming. Cursing, Harvey climbed back off the bed, turning over his instruments rapidly before picking up a vicious looking scalpel and poising himself on the far side of the light. Dammit, Tren would have no idea what was awaiting him. She pulled fruitlessly at her bonds, but she could not loosen them, and she had no way of warning him.

Somehow, Tren had managed to make it almost to the end of the bed. His eyes gleamed silver in the lamplight and she saw them shift from her position to Harvey’s position. Could he tell that the man was there? Once more, she thought of warning him, but she was afraid that all her muted cry would do would be to distract him. She could read the tension in his body, despite his restraint, and she saw his muscles tighten just before he sprang into action.

To her surprise, he headed neither for Harvey nor for her. Instead, he dove at the lamp, knocking it to the floor and plunging the room into darkness. Harvey gave a muffled cry and she strained her eyes trying to see through the thick gloom. A crashing sound, followed by the clatter of metal, indicated that the instrument table had been knocked over. More sounds of struggle followed, and she held her breath, still afraid to cry out and distract him. A horrible gurgling noise filled the room and her hearts beat so fast she felt sick. It couldn’t have been Tren—she hadn’t found him after all this time just to lose him now.

She strained her eyes and ears, searching for any indication of what had occurred. Then a warm hand touched her ankle and she couldn’t prevent a muffled cry. A second later she recognized the hand—it was Tren. Seconds after that, he found her mouth and removed the gag.

“Are you hurt? Please tell me that you are not hurt.” His voice was frantic, and she forced down the sobs that threatened to erupt.

“I’m fine. Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course. But I can smell your blood, Emlan. You are not all right.”

“It’s just a scratch,” she assured him, although she suspected the damage was somewhat worse than that. But it didn’t matter, what mattered was that he was here, and they were together again.

“What about Harvey?” The knowledge that the man was still out there in the darkness made her shiver. “Are you sure we’re safe?”

“He will never bother you again,” he said grimly as he traced the length of her arms to find the ties securing her to the bed.

A quick flash of his claws and she was free. She immediately threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Tren. I was so scared, but I knew that you would come for me.”

“I should have been here sooner,” he said as he freed her legs and finally drew her into his arms.

“You were here in time,” she assured him, but then her voice trembled. “What about Budra? Were you in time for her as well?”

“Yes, she is fine, but she is still weak. I could not bring her.”

He lifted her higher, finding her mouth with unerring accuracy and kissing her with frantic, demanding need.

“I thought I lost you,” he said when he finally raised his head.

“Never,” she promised. “Can we get out of here?”

“Yes, of course.”

He stood up with her still cradled in his arms and headed for the front of the warehouse. She could still see nothing in the overwhelming darkness, but he didn’t hesitate. Just as he reached the entrance, the door opened and a second later a small light revealed T’gaira just outside. A broad smile crossed his gnarled face.

“I am very glad to see you, Emlan.”

“I’m glad to see you, too, T’gaira.”

“What of the human male?” he asked Tren.

“He is dead.”

She thought perhaps that one day she might feel some sympathy for a person who had been her friend for such a long time, but the memory of the day was still too fresh and perhaps even the good memories would always be tainted by the knowledge of his underlying madness.

“You are bleeding,” T’gaira said. “What did that borag do to you?”

A wave of exhaustion swept over her. She did not want to discuss what had happened.

“I’m fine. Can we please just go home?”

“You should be seen by a medic,” Tren said.

“I promise you, I’m not seriously hurt. T’gaira has medical training, can he just take a look when we return home?”

She could see the indecision on his face, but eventually he nodded. “I want you to be comfortable.”

“And I will be most comfortable at home,” she said firmly.

Tren carried her to the vehicle, then climbed inside, still holding her cradled in his arms as if he could not bear to lose contact with her. She felt the same way, stroking his arms and twisting her fingers into his.

When they reached the villa, he finally put her down so that she could greet Budra. The crileth was obviously still shaky but couldn’t restrain her enthusiasm, licking Emlan’s face while she danced around making odd little cries of excitement.

“I’m fine, sweet girl,” she assured Budra, giving her a reassuring scratch around the base of her head spikes.

“You are not fine,” T’gaira said grimly. He was studying her wounds in the bright light of the house. “Your horn has been damaged.”

Tren stiffened where he was perched behind her and she put a calming hand on his knee.

“It doesn’t bother me,” she said truthfully. The area still ached but it was only a dull pain.

“If we do not take you to a medic, it will scar.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to go to the medical center, I want to be here with Tren and with Budra and with you.” She knew how important their horns were to the Yehrin warriors, but they had never been important to her. And if it scarred, then she would have a badge of honor, a reminder that no one had been able to separate her and Tren.

T’gaira gave a heavy sigh. “You will allow me to treat it,” he said firmly.

Recognizing the concession, she nodded and allowed Tren to help her to her feet. T’gaira fussed over the injury, shaking his head as he administered something to remove the pain, then spread healing gel on the wound and wrapped it in bandages. He urged her to eat something, then finally sat back and consulted his wrist com.

“I notified the Yehrin team that you had been found. They will make arrangements for the remains, but I should talk to the Eccalian officials as well.”

“And Lady Chara Alldan,” Tren added.

An almost embarrassed look crossed T’gaira’s face. “Yes. She was most helpful.”

Emlan hid her smile. It had been quite obvious on the previous visit that T’gaira and the businesswoman had been attracted to each other, although she wasn’t sure if it had progressed beyond a mutual interest.

“Perhaps you should tell her in person,” she suggested.

After a brief, token resistance, T’gaira agreed and left the villa. She turned to Tren, who had been oddly silent while T’gaira attended to her. Was he blaming himself for what had happened? But when she looked up at him, he did not look remorseful. He looked… hungry.

“Now, Emlan. You are mine.”

Chapter Fifteen

Fire burned in T’renan’s blood, but it was not anger this time—it was need. He had found his mate. He had fought for her and he had won. Thousands of years of instinct were urging him to claim her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I am yours.”

He reached for her as she spoke, already lifting her into his arms, his cock pulsing in an endless demand for the warmth of her body, his mate’s body. Only when they reached the bedroom did his concern about her condition push past his overwhelming need.

“Your head…” he managed, almost too lost in his primitive urges to ask. “Is it…”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “I need you, Tren. I need you to make me forget this day.”

He growled and kissed her, forcing her lips apart as he explored each luscious inch, marking her with his ownership, but he wanted—needed—more and he urged her to her knees as he freed his erection. He wanted her mouth on him, wanted the feel of her lips and tongue around his cock, wanted to possess her in every way.

“Your mouth belongs to me, my L’chka,” he growled.

She didn’t hesitate, her hands reaching eagerly for his shaft as her small mouth parted around him. He could see only the faintest blur, but he could envision her, could imagine her soft pink lips stretched around the thick flesh. The thought made him jerk forward, thrusting deeper into her mouth, deep enough to touch her throat. When she choked, he tried to pull back, but she caught his hip, holding him in place. His hand went to her head, perhaps to urge her to release him, but when her tongue swirled around his aching shaft, his fingers fisted in her hair. Her small hand tightened around the base of his cock, stroking up to meet her mouth as she sucked eagerly, as she took him deeper with each stroke until finally he felt her swallow around his cock, and he exploded with a roar, his seed pulsing forth as she swallowed again and again, trying to take all of him.

His body shook, his knees turning weak with the intensity of his climax and it took him a long moment to realize that he still had his cock buried in her mouth and his hand fisted in her hair. He gently pulled out and lifted her back up into his arms, trying to force himself to calmness now that his first initial need had been sated. But her need had risen to match his own and she frantically sought his mouth as she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding her hot, wet cunt against his hard stomach. A layer of fabric still separated them, but he ripped it away, groaning with pleasure at the slippery heat that met his fingers.

“Please, Tren. I need you.” She stopped kissing him long enough to urge him on, her voice desperate.

“This. This belongs to me, too,” he growled again as he backed her against the wall then brought her down over his erection in one hard stroke. He felt her shudder, heard her call out his name, but he was lost again, surging into her in long hard thrusts as her sweet cunt convulsed around him. When her quivering finally stopped, he reached between them, finding the swollen pearl of her clit and stroking it relentlessly until he drove her into a second shuddering climax, but it still wasn’t enough.

He carried her to the bed, laying her back amongst the pillows while he remained standing, her hips raised to his as he took her, owned her, demanded her surrender. He reached between them once more, this time circling the place where they were joined, feeling her stretched open, helpless with pleasure.

“Come for me, Emlan,” he demanded, and she obeyed, arching into him as she shook with the intensity of her climax.

“I want all of you,” he growled, and pulled her free to place her on her hands and knees before him. Even that brief second without her was too long and he immediately plunged back into the silken fist of her cunt. Fuck, she felt even tighter like this and he paused briefly to give her time to adjust, but she threw her hips back, demanding more, and he could not resist.

As he slammed into her, he took his hand, wet with their combined juices, and circled her delicate bottom hole. He played with it often but tonight he needed more, he needed to claim her here as well. He probed the tight ring, trying to be gentle, trying to be patient, but when she pushed her hips back again, he buried his finger in her dark channel.

“Your ass belongs to me as well,” he managed to say through gritted teeth. His finger in her back passage made her cunt even tighter, even wetter, and he could feel her pulsing around his cock each time he entered her. He retained just enough control to think of her comfort and reach for the healing gel.

“Yes, Tren. All of me belongs to you,” Emlan cried. Her body was on fire with longing, with need. She didn’t know if it was her Yehrin side or her human side—perhaps it was both—but she needed this, needed to feel him claiming her, owning her, leaving no doubt that she belonged to him and only to him.

He added a second slick finger, stretching her, filling her, but the fiery burn only made her want more. There was something primal, something basic to this mating that had her lost in desire. He pulled out of her, leaving a sudden aching emptiness, and then she felt the thick slippery head of his cock at her bottom hole. She tried to breathe, tried to relax into the sensation as he pushed slowly, firmly, inevitably inside. Her breath escaped in a wordless cry, torn between the urge to pull away and the urge to push back, but he didn’t hesitate, pushing deeper, stretching her open, marking her as his as he filled her completely. He bent down over her as she panted and trembled, trying to adjust to the massive invader, and his hand came around to stroke the hard, throbbing ache of her clit. Oh god. His touch turned the fiery stretch into an aching pleasure deep in her body.

“My L’chka,” he whispered in her ear, and she shivered, too overwhelmed with sensation for words.

He kept his fingers pressed against her clit as he slowly withdrew, letting her feel every thick ridged inch until only his broad head held her open. She quivered with anticipation and then he drove back into her in a long burning stroke that transformed instantly into fiery pleasure. With each thrust, his speed increased and she met him each time, driving her hips back to meet his thrusts, his breath coming in harsh pants, his mouth frantic at her shoulder, kissing and sucking at the tender flesh as he plunged harder, deeper, taking complete possession of her body until he exploded, his mouth clamping down on her shoulder as he filled her dark channel with liquid heat, driving her into an overwhelming, shattering climax as her vision dimmed and the world spun in dizzying, ecstatic circles.

When she finally regained her senses, he was pulling slowly and carefully out of her body. She winced but still felt a shiver of excitement from the sensitive flesh. He disappeared for a second, then came back with a warm cloth, cleansing her gently as she lay in a contented stupor.

“I marked you,” he said, running a careful finger along the bite mark on her shoulder.

“Mm,” she agreed sleepily. The mating bite was an ancient Yehrin custom that was no longer practiced with great frequency. She hadn’t thought much about it before, but now that he had done it, she was filled with a deep sense of satisfaction. The mark proclaimed that she was his for all the world to see.

“You do not mind?”

“Of course not.” She forced aside her languor and rolled over to face him. His face wore an odd mixture of satisfaction and concern. She reached for his hand and brought it to her mouth, letting him see her smile. “I like having your claim on my body. It’s a shame that warriors don’t wear a claiming mark.”

“I would be honored to have your bite,” he said immediately.

“Mm.” The thought gave her a pleasant little thrill, but she was much too tired to do anything about it tonight. “We’ll have to see what we can arrange. Later. After a long sleep.”

He laughed; his face relaxed, free of the tension that had marked it since he had found her. “You are right as always, my L’chka.”

He disappeared again and she heard the door open a moment before a large warm weight covered her feet. She found the energy to reach down and give Budra an affectionate pat before Tren returned and drew her into his arms.

“I love you, Emlan,” he said quietly.

“I love you, too.” Her voice was barely audible as sleep overtook her, but she knew he heard her words, knew he felt the truth of them, and she fell asleep with a contented smile on her face.

Chapter Sixteen

The next few days passed in relative peace. T’gaira had felt obligated to notify Emlan’s father about her disappearance but managed to get hold of him in time to prevent him from heading to Eccalia with the full force of the Yehrin fleet behind him. T’lan sent a message urging her to come back to Earth, but while she sent back her love and assurances of her safety, she did not yet think that it was time to return. Tren continued to work with Master Chan Caina, seeming to find a degree of serenity in the exercises from the rage that still haunted him. The knowledge that he had been able to master it in order to come to her aid had buoyed his confidence, and the ongoing sessions also helped. In addition, she was still not quite sure how the return to their former home on Earth would affect him. As for her, she missed her family of course, but it was really no different than being on one of her business trips. For now, she was content just to be with Tren.

Her horn healed, although, as T’gaira had predicted, it was now scarred. But she found the scar did not bother her. In fact, her horns no longer bothered her. She had always styled her hair so that the blonde curls obscured the small black nubs as much as possible, but as she looked at herself in the mirror one morning, she realized she no longer felt the need to hide. Combing her hair away from them instead, she studied her face in the mirror. No, she didn’t look entirely human and neither did she look entirely Yehrin, but this was who she was, and she was at peace with that for the first time in a very long time.

Even T’gaira seemed content—although that may have been partially due to the amount of time he was spending with Lady Chara Alldan. He frequently spent the evenings with her although he always returned to help guard the house overnight. Even though the incident with Harvey didn’t make her feel unsafe on this peaceful planet, a Yehrin guard was now stationed outside their house at all times. She rolled her eyes and did her best to ignore the parade of warriors. Growing up under her father’s overprotective eye had taught her that sometimes it was easier just to give in.

Their peaceful days came to an abrupt end. They had just finished their evening meal and T’gaira was preparing to leave when his wrist com beeped. He gave it a casual glance, then stiffened. His claws tapped rapidly at the device while he muttered to himself in Yehrin.

Tren also tensed and she put her hand on his arm, feeling the tightness in the strong muscles.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

“I am not sure, but that is a high priority signal.”

After a few more minutes of tapping and muttering, T’gaira frowned at them across the table.

“Commander T’kol requests our presence on Quatar,” he said grimly.

Tren’s body turned rock hard.

“No,” she said immediately. “Absolutely not. Why would T’kol even suggest such a thing?”

“It seems that the Vulfar have decided to negotiate. We were contacted by a Chief O’kami. He demanded that Commander T’renan be present.”

“O’kami?” Tren asked slowly. His voice sounded harsh and distant.

“Yes. Seems he trusts you.”

Tren made a choking noise and shook his head. “I would have thought that he would be as reluctant to return as I am.”

“Not the same planet,” T’gaira said. “Based on the records of your ship when you were recovered, you were held prisoner on Quatar Ten. The meeting is in the capital city on Quatar Five.”

“Why does that make any difference?” Emlan demanded impatiently. “He doesn’t want to go back there and it’s ridiculous that they would ask him.”

“Perhaps not.” Tren turned to her and covered her hand with his own. “I do trust O’kami and if he has asked for me, then I believe he has good reason.”

“You’re not thinking of going?” she asked, horrified.

“I am willing to consider it, but only if you will accompany me.”

“Of course, I will go with you,” she said immediately. “I am not letting you out of my sight again. But do you really want to go?”

“No,” he said. “But when we left, even the Yehrin were prepared to overlook what happened to me. Perhaps this is a way to find some justice.”

She studied his face. He looked resigned rather than concerned, and she found she could not argue with him. If he needed to do this in order to find some kind of closure, then she would be at his side.

“And if it does not? If they still choose to ignore what the Quatarans did to you?”

“I will accept it. It is in my past and you are my future, my L’chka.”

“Then I guess we are going to Quatar.”

As if she understood what they were saying, Budra yowled mournfully and pressed her head against Emlan’s leg. T’gaira pushed back from the table.

“I will make the arrangements.”

“In the morning,” Tren said firmly. “I believe you already have plans for this evening and if they want me that urgently, it will not hurt to have them wait a day or two.”

T’gaira barked out a laugh. “Aye, boy. Let them wait.”

The old warrior left, and she took Tren’s hand. “How shall we spend our last evening on Eccalia?”

She fully expected him to sweep her off to bed, but instead he suggested they go for a walk on the beach. Hand in hand, they walked silently along the cool sand at the water’s edge. The breeze whispered through the jungle and only the occasional sound of a night creature scurrying through the leaves disturbed the quiet evening. Two moons hung low over the surface of the sea, casting their shimmering paths over the waves, and her heart ached that Tren couldn’t appreciate the full beauty of the evening.

“I wish you could see how beautiful the sky looks tonight,” she whispered.

“I only regret that I cannot see your beauty, my L’chka. I have only my memories and the feel of you beneath my hands.”

He stopped and cupped her face, drawing a finger across her face in the gesture that had become so familiar. “But as long as I can at least see you this way, then I am content.”

Unexpected tears stung her eyes. “I love you, my warrior.”

“Then perhaps we should mark the end of our time here another way.” He grinned, looking almost lighthearted as he scooped her up in his arms. His steps never faltered as he carried her back to the villa and proceeded to make sure that their last evening was deliciously memorable.

By the time they rendezvoused with the Yehrin ship two days later, Emlan was a nervous wreck. Neither of her companions seemed as bothered. Tren had retained most of his surprising serenity while T’gaira handled the situation with his usual stolid acceptance. She was the only one whose nerves were on edge. To make matters worse, she seemed to have contracted some type of stomach bug and her insides rolled queasily whenever she was presented with food. Fortunately, Tren could not really observe the fact that she wasn’t eating, but T’gaira noticed. He pulled her aside while Tren was going through his training exercises.

“What is wrong with you, Emlan? Worried about the boy?”

“I suppose so,” she admitted. Perhaps it was only nerves after all. “Even though Tren seems to be prepared to meet with the Quatarans again, I can’t help but remember what happened last time. If he loses his temper, if he has to be sedated… I’m afraid that all the healing he did while we were on Eccalia will be undone.”

“Do you have so little faith in him?” he asked bluntly.

His words rang in her head. Was she being as overprotective as her father could be?

“You’re right,” she admitted. “He thinks he can do this, and I believe in him.”

“Then start eating again.”

She laughed and reached up to kiss his cheek. “Yes, sir.”

But although she tried her best, she still found herself unenthusiastic about eating.

When they reached the ship, Lizabet and her mates were waiting for them. Despite her friend’s cheerful greeting, Emlan could see the strain on Lizabet’s face and noticed that both T’kol and Hisst watched her anxiously.

“Is the situation that bad?” she whispered as the males exchanged greetings.

“I’m mainly frustrated,” Lizabet admitted. “The Quatarans say all the right things, but frankly, I don’t believe them. And every single time we try to meet with the Vulfar, something goes wrong.”

Lizabet started escorting her towards the cabin they had been assigned, while their males followed.

“We aren’t meeting with the Vulfar anymore?” Emlan asked. If they weren’t, then that meant that Tren would not have to return to Quatar, but before she could take a relieved breath, Lizabet shook her head.

“Oh, no. We are meeting with them. On Quatar. Our fleet on one side of the planet and their fleet on the other side.”

“That sounds… precarious.”

“It is. When I was growing up, we used to play a game called chicken. The idea was to see who would flinch first.”

“And if no one flinches?”

“Then you collide,” Lizabet said grimly.

“Lissie, you should be resting,” Hisst said, coming up alongside the two women with a concerned look on his face.

Lizabet rolled her eyes but patted his hand. “Stop worrying. I told you I was fine.”

“You are not fine.” T’kol had joined his mates. “We agreed that if you continued assisting with the negotiations, you would rest properly. You look tired, my L’chka.”

“Gee, thanks. That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“You are as beautiful as ever,” Hisst said quickly with a reproving glance at T’kol. “But you need to take care of yourself in your condition.”

“Your condition?” Emlan asked anxiously. “Is something wrong?”

Lizabet laughed. “Not at all. It just seems that we were a little premature in thinking that our family was complete.”

“You’re having another baby? That’s wonderful.”

Her friend gave her a rueful smile. “It is wonderful, but the timing could have been a little better.” She shook her head at T’kol. “Some people got a little enthusiastic.”

“It is not my fault that you are irresistible.” Without waiting for a response, he swept Lizabet up in his arms. “Now you are going to rest.”

“But I need to fill them in on what’s happening,” she protested, but even Emlan could tell that she wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea.

“I will take care of that,” Hisst said firmly, then put his arms around his mates and kissed her gently. “Get some sleep, and do not allow this barbarian to distract you.”

Lizabet sighed and relaxed into T’kol’s arms. “I think I’m too tired for either one of you to distract me.”

Hisst laughed. “And I am quite confident that we can prove that statement false. But later, my queen.”

T’kol swept Lizabet away and Emlan smiled after them. The triad was an unusual relationship, but it worked in every sense. How wonderful that they would be making another addition to their family. Perhaps after this meeting, she and Tren could discuss beginning a family of their own.

Chapter Seventeen

Hisst escorted them to a small suite with a central meeting area and a bedroom and bath on either side. In some ways, the layout was similar to that of their villa on Eccalia, but the stark white metal walls and black floor of a Yehrin ship did not compare to their cozy residence. And as much as she loved seeing the stars outside the viewport, she missed the ocean and the jungle.

“As my queen mentioned, there is something happening here which we do not understand.” The normally cheerful Hisst frowned as he offered them refreshments.

“I assume you managed to prevent Commander T’vaina from attacking the Vulfar?” Tren asked.

“Yes, but it wasn’t easy. We thought the situation had stabilized after you left, but then one of his shuttles went missing.”

Hisst offered her a profida and she barely refrained from gagging, even though she normally enjoyed the small sweet cakes. He raised a brow ridge and offered her tea instead and fortunately her stomach did not object. She noticed T’gaira frowning at her, but she steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. Perhaps she should see a medic while she was on board.

“Did they find the shuttle?” Tren asked.

“Yes.” Hisst sighed. “But it was damaged beyond repair and there was no one on board. The commander claimed that the damage was the result of a Vulfar attack and once again threatened to mount an assault.”

“Apparently he was not successful.”

“No, that is when Chief Okami hailed us. Commander T’vaina did not want to open communications but fortunately T’kol was able to override him. Your Supreme Council at least seems to recognize that war benefits no one.”

“Except the people who make weapons,” T’gaira snorted.

“The economy in general tends to improve in wartime,” she agreed, then frowned. “Is this a war?”

“Not by Yehrin standards,” T’gaira said.

“You have been fighting in this sector for more than ten years,” Hisst pointed out.

“When we take a planet, we use overwhelming force specifically in order to avoid lengthy conflict,” Tren said with a frustrated sigh. “But even when I was sent here originally, we were just guarding the trade routes. We were not sent in to defeat an enemy.”

“Too many scholars on the Supreme Council,” T’gaira growled.

“Or maybe the Yehrin finally got tired of trying to control everything,” she said tartly. Her human side was only too aware that the Yehrin were still regarded as aliens and conquerors by many humans.

Neither Tren nor T’gaira looked convinced but they didn’t argue with her. Hisst briefed them on the expected schedule and the major personnel involved in the negotiations, then left quickly.

“He was in a hurry,” T’gaira observed.

“He is worried about Lizabet. She’s pregnant—isn’t that wonderful?”

A broad smile crossed T’gaira’s face. Even though finding out that human females were compatible with the Yehrin had helped to ease the worries that their race would become extinct, the Yehrin still celebrated the birth of every child.

To her surprise, Tren did not look as thrilled as she would have expected but she didn’t question him about it. Perhaps he was thinking of all of the births that had occurred while he was imprisoned.

T’gaira excused himself to go visit with several acquaintances on the ship. She suspected that he also intended to find out what the warriors thought about their situation. After he left, Tren paced restlessly around the rooms, orienting himself to their new surroundings. Budra accompanied him, her spiked tail lashing, and Emlan suspected that she too recognized that Tren no longer seemed at ease.

“What’s the matter?” she asked finally.

“Many things,” he said shortly, and her heart sank. She knew this had been a bad idea.

“We can still leave.”

“No,” he said immediately. “I think we did the right thing by coming here. It is just that I have never liked politics. The games that are played have just as many consequences as a battle, but the ones who are playing them never feel the pain.”

“I don’t want you to be unhappy. Let them handle it.”

“No,” he said again, then sighed and returned to sit next to her. “I owe a debt to O’kami. And if politics can be used to avoid battle, that would be a good thing.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, then climbed up on his lap. “But how about if we forget about all that for right now?”

“How can I remember anything except the fact that I have my mate in my arms?” He tried to slide his hands under the fitted shirt she was wearing and growled in frustration. “And that she is wearing far too many clothes.”

“That is one situation that can be easily fixed.” She guided his hands to the row of decorative fastenings up the front of her shirt and he snapped them open with astonishing speed. He slid the shirt off of her shoulders but left it over her upper arms, restraining her movements.

“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly as he took advantage of her captivity to bend her back over his arm. His mouth descended over her breasts, shockingly warm and wet as he pulled her nipple between his lips and sucked hungrily. She tried to reach for him, but the shirt kept her arms in place. A spike of arousal pulsed straight to her clit from the knowledge that she was bound. He moved to the other nipple, already taut and aching, leaving the wet throbbing peak exposed to the cool air. She shivered as it tightened even further.

“Tren, I want to touch you,” she pleaded.

“Not yet,” he growled. His hands went to her equally snug fitting pants but this time he didn’t bother with the fastenings—he simply ripped them down, although these too he left around her ankles.

He slid a thick finger between her legs, growling his approval at the slick heat that met his touch.

“I cannot wait any longer. I need you, Emlan.”

With his usual effortless strength, he flipped her over the arm of the couch. Her arms were still fastened behind her, her cheek pressed against the cushion, and her ass raised high in the air—leaving her helpless, exposed, aroused. He parted her legs as far as they would go with her ankles bound and then she felt the broad head of his cock probing at her entrance. With one long hard stroke, he plunged inside, lifting her up on her tiptoes as she cried out from the sudden shocking fullness. He froze.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, oh yes. Don’t stop.”

Almost before she finished speaking, he started moving, thrusting into her with hard fast strokes that threatened to overwhelm her body. Her pussy fluttered wildly, trying to accommodate his size as his ridged cock scraped the inside of her channel and awakened each sensitive inch. Without slowing the demanding pace, he slid one hand underneath her, pressing against her clit with each stroke. His other hand circled the place where he entered her, and she knew he was envisioning the sight of his massive cock stretching her small entrance. He bent down over her, slamming into her with increased force as he brought his wet hand up to her mouth, sliding his fingers in as she sucked eagerly. Her mouth and her pussy filled by him, his weight over her back, his body surrounding her—all she could feel, all she could sense was him and she shattered, bright sparks appearing behind her closed eyes as her body convulsed in helpless pleasure. He roared, thrusting into her once, twice, then burying himself to the root as the heated waves of his seed filled her.

Through a warm haze of contentment, she felt him remove the remnants of clothing binding her limbs and carry her into the bedroom. He cleansed her gently, then joined her in bed, pulling her into his arms as she gave a contented sigh.

“I was not too rough?” he asked.

“Not at all.” She stretched lazily, then giggled. “It just occurred to me that T’gaira would’ve been shocked if he returned early.”

“I made sure the door was locked. I would never allow anyone to witness your beauty.”

“Thank you.” She stroked his chest. “I wonder how people manage once they have children. I’ll have to ask Lizabet if she has any pointers.”

His body stiffened. “Children?”

“Well, yes. I assume we will have at least one or two running around eventually.” She shook her head. “I’m so impressed that Lizabet can handle pregnancy and meeting with the Quatarans.”

He sat up abruptly.

“Tren? What’s wrong?”

T’renan heard the anxiety in his mate’s voice but he didn’t know how to answer her. She so clearly assumed that they would have children together, but the thought filled him with as much terror as joy. When he had discovered that she was on birth control, he had been angry because of the reason why she had protected herself, but underneath, he had also been relieved. How could he have children when he could not see to care for them?

The familiar rage began to build. The fucking Quatarans had even taken this from him.

Her soft hand touched his back. “Tren, please talk to me.”

He tried to follow The Way, tried to calm his breathing and feel the flow of energy through his body, but the wash of anger consumed him.

“Emlan, I—” he stood abruptly. “I need to train.”

Before she had a chance to respond, he returned to the outer room, threw on his uniform, and left their quarters. It wasn’t until he stood in the corridor that he remembered that he was not familiar with the layout of this ship. Frustration added to his anger and he slammed his fist against the wall.

“Thought we were past that.”

T’gaira’s gruff words were actually a relief.

“I need to move,” he growled.

“Aye. Can see that.”

With a brief touch to his elbow T’gaira led him down the hallway. His skin crawled with the need to slap the guiding hand away, to vent his rage on something, but he forced himself to focus on his breathing and tried to memorize their path. He suspected that he would need to return this way again.

Emlan stared at the closed door as Tren stormed out of their quarters. Knowing that he would be unable to find his way around, she was tempted to go after him, even though she suspected that he would not welcome her presence. Still, it would be better than another incident like the one that had occurred on the medical station. She knew this was going to be difficult, but she hadn’t realized just how difficult. Damn the Quatarans for forcing him back.

Hastily pulling on an undamaged outfit, she headed for the door. She opened it in time to see Tren and T’gaira vanishing down the corridor and gave a sigh of relief. If anyone could handle Tren in this mood, it would be T’gaira. Budra butted her head against her hip, obviously wanting to join the two males.

“No, girl. You stay here and keep me company.”

She closed the door panel and headed back to the bedroom to begin preparing herself for the formal dinner that Hisst had warned her to expect. But Tren’s behavior kept nagging at her. What had set him off? Was it the question of children? That didn’t make sense. He had always loved children and had been endlessly patient with the children of the colony. Had being enslaved changed him that much? Once he worked off his anxiety, they would need to talk.

Chapter Eighteen

Emlan woke up when Tren slipped quietly out of bed the next morning. Since he was very obviously trying not to wake her, she didn’t call out to him. Budra raised her head from her position at the foot of the bed and watched as Tren pulled on a training uniform and disappeared into the central room. Emlan thought that the crileth looked as concerned as she felt.

Dinner the previous night had been a disaster. Her stomach had objected to everything that was placed in front of her and she had done little more than push the food around her plate throughout the never-ending series of courses. Tren had had an even worse time. During their stay on Eccalia, they had developed a consistent routine as far as the placement of food and utensils and Tren had adapted to it to the extent that she often forgot his limited vision. Here, the formal meal with its array of silverware and variety of courses was almost impossible for him to deal with gracefully. They were seated with Lizabet and her mates and she saw Lizabet notice almost immediately the difficulties involved. The other woman started to say something but T’kol gently stopped her. Emlan couldn’t sit by while Tren struggled. She pushed her chair closer to him and casually placed her hand next to his on the table, gently nudging him into the correct position. But even with her subtle assistance, he ate very little and his body remained stiff throughout the meal.

Fortunately, they were surrounded by their friends and while Commander T’vaina cast several disparaging glances in their direction, he was not in a position to talk directly to them. When the meal drew to a close, he started to approach and Emlan quickly announced that she was tired and asked Tren to take her back to the cabin. T’gaira accompanied them and as soon as she was safely back in the room, Tren asked the other warrior to accompany him back to the training rooms. She had not protested, nor had she said anything when he returned hours later, soaked in sweat with his muscles trembling. He had taken a shower and climbed into bed with her and for a dreadful moment she thought that he would ignore her. Instead, to her relief, he had reached for her, clinging to her almost desperately.

“We do not have to stay here,” she reminded him softly.

“Yes, I do,” he said quietly. “I cannot spend the rest of my days sitting by the water or running on the beach. I learned to adjust there; I can learn to adjust here.”

“I know you can.”

Instead of responding verbally, he had kissed her and, despite his obvious exhaustion, made love to her with a slow tender thoroughness that sent her into a peaceful sleep.

Now, she suspected that his sleep had not been as restful. She walked quietly to the door, opening it enough to see that he was moving through the exercises he had learned on Eccalia. While she was by no means an expert, she had watched him often enough to notice that he was not moving with his usual graceful fluid movements. Her dread of the upcoming meeting increased.

She longed to go to him but decided that perhaps he needed some time to wrestle with his own demons. As she turned back to the bed, a wave of dizziness swept over her and her stomach rolled. Pressing her hand to her mouth, she dashed for the sanitary facility. The small amount she had managed to eat the night before decided to reappear, and she clung to the toilet as her head whirled. Budra pressed anxiously against her side and she leaned gratefully against the crileth until the world stopped spinning.

When she finally regained her composure and staggered over to the sink to brush her teeth, she realized that she could not put off going to the medic any longer. What if there was something seriously wrong with her? These bouts of nausea were like nothing she had ever experienced, and she could no longer attribute them to a stomach bug or to nerves. It was almost as if she was… pregnant?

When she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, the expression covering her face would have made her laugh if she wasn’t so shocked. Surely, she couldn’t be pregnant, could she? The birth control shot was supposed to be good for a year. But then she remembered how her mother had gotten pregnant from a single incomplete encounter with a Yehrin male. The visit to the medic took on a new importance. As soon as she was dressed, she peeked out into the main room. Tren was no longer present and she felt guilty that she was so relieved. Under other circumstances she would have been delighted and anxious to share this with him. But between his odd reaction to the announcement of Lizabet’s pregnancy and his tension about the upcoming meeting, the timing couldn’t have been worse. She hurried to the communicator to call Lizabet—she needed her friend.

“You are most definitely pregnant.” The medic smiled at her, but she was still too stunned to respond.

“But I’m on the birth control shot,” she protested weakly.

He shook his head as he moved over to his desk. Tren would no doubt have a fit if he ever learned she had been to see a male medic, but there were no female medics on board the ship and she and Lizabet had agreed that it would be best to find out the truth as soon as possible. One of the warriors could have scanned her but she was afraid that their loyalty to a fellow warrior would prevail over her desire for discretion.

“I suspect that your unique chemistry may have affected the efficiency of the shot.” He beamed as proudly as if he were the father. “And, of course, human females are quite susceptible to Yehrin males.”

“Great. Now you tell me,” she muttered. But then again, she had been to a human doctor for the prescription and she might well not have been aware of all of the aspects of Yehrin biology. Even after all these years, the Yehrin were notoriously reluctant to discuss such matters with other races.

“Lizabet, what am I going to do?”

Her friend had been sitting quietly in one corner of the room, but she immediately came over and hugged Emlan. They had made the appointment under the pretense that Lizabet was the one who wanted to see the doctor.

“Aren’t you happy?” Lizabet said quietly.

Happy? Sudden tears filled her eyes. She had spent ten years missing Tren, dreaming of having a family with him. He would be such a good father—gentle, protective, and endlessly patient. Or at least the old Tren would have been like that.

“Of course, I’m happy. I wanted to have a baby. To have his baby,” she admitted. That longing for a family had been one of the reasons she had finally agreed to marry Harvey, but even then, the thought of having a child with anyone other than Tren had driven her to start the birth control. “It’s just what you said earlier—not the best timing. Tren is still struggling to adjust, and with this meeting looming over us…”

“Believe me, I understand. But Emlan, you’re going to have a baby!”

A tremulous smile twisted her lips as she finally allowed herself to acknowledge that it was true. She was having Tren’s child. Happiness washed over her as she hugged Lizabet again and both of them dissolved into happy tears.

“Here.” The medic handed her a vial of pills, smiling at the two of them as they hugged each other and cried. “These should help with the nausea. Do you have any questions?”

“How long until I start to show?” Unlike human pregnancies, bearing a Yehrin child only took six months and it advanced rapidly.

“Not long. You are almost a month along.”

It must have happened the very first time they made love. Somehow that seemed only fitting.

“I will give you two a moment,” the medic added, and left the room.

“When are you going to tell T’renan?” Lizabet demanded immediately.

“I don’t know.” Her earlier doubts resurfaced. “He was so weird when I told him that you were pregnant. And this whole situation is so difficult for him.”

“Are you thinking about waiting until it’s over? Because I can tell you, even if the negotiations go well, these things tend to drag on for a long time.”

A cowardly impulse tempted her to consider it, but in the end, she shook her head. “No, I want to tell him as soon as possible. I just don’t want to add to his stress.”

“A baby should be happy news,” Lizabet said gently.

“And I’m sure it will be.” She smiled weakly at her friend. “Eventually.”

Lizabet gave her another quick hug and they headed for the door, her emotions still swinging wildly between a warm glow of happiness and flutter of trepidation.

Hisst was waiting for them outside the door. “You are well, my queen?”

“I told you I was fine. I just had a couple of questions, that’s all.” Lizabet waved her hand airily. “Female type questions.”

He tilted his head, considering her, then looked at Emlan and shook his head. “I suspect there is more to this visit than you are saying, but I won’t insist on an answer if you promise me that your health is not in danger.”

“Not at all, my love,” Lizabet said seriously.

“Very well.”

Lizabet’s seriousness disappeared with a broad smile. “And that’s why I wanted you to accompany us. I knew you’d see it my way.”

Hisst shook his head again, then bent over to whisper something in his mate’s ear that made her laugh and blush at the same time. Emlan smiled as she watched them, but her heart ached as well. Would Tren ever be that playful? Even on Eccalia, he had always seemed so serious. She prayed that once this meeting was behind them, he could finally find some peace.

Chapter Nineteen

After a sleepless night, T’renan slipped quietly out of their cabin and into the main room, afraid that his restlessness would wake Emlan. Desperate to divert his focus from the thoughts that had tormented him after the humiliation of the banquet, he began the series of exercises Master Chan Caina had taught him. He tried to follow The Way—to quiet his mind, to breathe properly, and to let the energy flow through his body—but his muscles were in tight knots and his mind circled endlessly. Even though he could never forget his limited vision, on Eccalia he had felt as if he were adjusting, as if he would be able to compensate for his lack of sight. Last night had proven how incorrect that assumption had been. The stress of that knowledge on top of the strain of meeting with the Quatarans and the Vulfar had him fighting a constant battle with his anger.

T’gaira’s door opened and a moment later, the older warrior stood in front of him.

“Not sleeping?”

“No,” he said shortly, then sighed. “I am angry and frustrated, and I do not want to upset my L’chka.”

“Need a training match,” T’gaira said gruffly. “Breathing only takes you so far.”

Despite his tension, his lips twisted. Perhaps the older male was correct. The thought of pounding someone into submission had a definite appeal. “Are you volunteering?”

“Old warrior like me? Might not be much of a challenge.”

An actual smile crossed his face. During their training sessions on Eccalia, he had gained a vast respect for T’gaira’s skills. He might be older, but he was strong, fast, and sneaky.

“I will take that challenge,” he said, anticipation already flowing through his blood.

When they returned to the cabin several hours later, T’renan was bruised, sore, and exhausted. He was also more at peace that he had been since they arrived on the ship. T’gaira had won the first match, T’renan the second, and the third had lasted for twice the usual time because it had been so close. In the end, he had narrowly defeated the old warrior, but he suspected he would feel just as satisfied if the decision had gone the other way. In horn-to-horn combat, he was still more than capable of holding his own and that knowledge brought him a great deal of comfort.

Neither Emlan nor Budra were present when they returned, and he had to suppress an immediate surge of panic. They were on a Yehrin ship, surrounded by Yehrin warriors. She could not be safer.

“Did she leave a message?” he demanded.

“Says she went to see L’zabet.”

“Do you know where her cabin is located?”

“No, but I can find out.”

“After I shower, will you accompany me there?” The request for assistance hurt less this time.

“Aye.”

A short time later, they were on their way. As they moved along the corridor, he found himself settling into the familiar environment of a Yehrin ship—until he misjudged a corner and slammed into the wall. He thought he heard the sound of distant laughter, but perhaps it was only his own foolishness in believing that he could adjust. The peace he had found during the training match began to disappear beneath the familiar rage. Arriving at L’zabet’s cabin only made it worse.

The door opened into a room alive with laughter and movement—too much of both. He found it impossible to identify anyone’s location and he froze just inside the door. A moment later, Budra appeared, pushing her head beneath his hand, and he buried his fingers in her fur, thankful for the support. Then Emlan danced up and kissed his cheek.

“I’m so glad you’re here. We’re having so much fun—we’re celebrating Lizabet’s pregnancy. Oh, and she has arranged for the most beautiful dress for me.”

A dress that he would never see. A wave of bitterness and anger swept over him and he had to refrain from snatching her up and carrying her away so that it would only be the two of them and he could use his hands to see her. Emlan flitted away again and T’gaira moved to his elbow. He angrily shook away the male’s touch.

“I am fine,” he growled.

T’gaira snorted. “Stubborn idiot. Couch two steps in front and one to the right.”

He nodded a reluctant thanks and with Budra’s assistance, made it safely to the couch. A minute later, H’sst pressed a glass of wine into his hand.

“Join us, my friend.”

As he sipped the wine, he tried to relax but the constant activity made him uncomfortable. Even when Emlan came and sat next to him, he couldn’t find his usual peace in her presence. H’sst was teasing T’kol about who had done a better job of teaching their sons to use a sword—yet another task that he would never be able to perform—and he retreated further into his fury.

Emlan could tell that Tren was on edge, although she wasn’t sure why. His muscles were like steel cords beneath her fingers and although he had put his arm around her, he felt distant, lost in his own darkness. Her pleasure in the party and her new dress began to diminish. She had thought perhaps she would surprise him with her own happy news while everyone was celebrating but this didn’t seem to be the time. Her worries of the morning returned, along with a small niggling doubt that perhaps he would not be as happy about the baby as she expected.

In the center of the room, Lizabet twirled merrily, showing off her own new gown, then abruptly swayed. Both of her mates were instantly at her side. She reassured them that it was just a dizzy spell, but she had turned pale. T’kol immediately carried her over to the other couch and sat down with her on his lap while Hisst prepared a mug of tea.

“Really, I’m fine,” Lizabet insisted as she sipped her tea, her color already returning. “Just no more twirling for the next six months.”

“Foolishness,” Tren muttered in her ear.

“What is?”

“Being with child under these circumstances.”

Her heart sank. “Isn’t a baby always happy news?”

“No,” he said shortly. “I am glad we do not have to concern ourselves with such matters.”

The lump in her throat made it hard to breathe. “But, surely—”

“The Vulfar are arriving early,” T’gaira announced grimly, looking up from his communicator.

“Oh, heavens. That’s going to throw everything off,” Lizabet grumbled as she pushed herself off T’kol’s lap. “Are the Vulfar trying to cause problems before we even get started?”

Emlan forced her mind away from her own concerns and focused on the more immediate problem.

“What do we do?”

“Fortunately, we are both already dressed appropriately.” Lizabet grinned. “If we leave now, we should arrive just before them.”

Chapter Twenty

Emlan did her best to keep her face and body calm as the ship approached the surface of Quatar Five. Tren sat silently next to her in rigid silence and she suspected he needed her support more than he would ever admit. In the rush of preparing to land, she’d had no chance of getting him alone to find out if he had really meant what he said. Or was she making excuses because she was worried? He had acted so strangely since the first time she told him about Lizabet’s pregnancy. The Yehrin had always been so eager for children—had he really changed that much?

Everything will be fine, she told herself. We love each other and surely, he will understand how much this will add to our happiness.

But despite her internal lecture, a part of her was thankful that they hadn’t been able to discuss the matter yet. Perhaps it would be best to wait under these circumstances anyway. Every muscle in his body was taut with tension and he barely spoke throughout the entire flight. She could see T’gaira also giving him concerned looks. Right now, Tren was staring at the images in the viewport as if his life depended on them, even though she was sure he could make out very few details. From what little he had told her about the place where he had been imprisoned, it had been a barren planet filled with rocks and dirt and not much else. The planet in front of them was nothing like that. Soft purple landmasses were surrounded by calm jade seas while fluffy white clouds floated across the surface. Hopefully the difference in terrain would make this easier for him.

When the ship landed, a squad of Yehrin warriors exited first. Lizabet followed, looking remarkably regal in the Icluthian clothing she wore to emphasize her position as both a Yehrin and Icluthian ambassador. The long gown of heavily embroidered gold silk was cut daringly low between her full breasts and accented by a woven chain belt that had been fastened around her waist by her two mates, T’kol and Hisst, both now attired in identical severe black uniforms, flanked her. Another squad of Yehrin warriors followed the trio, then she and Tren descended. Her own gown was more modestly cut, a slender column of dark green silk which emphasized the Yehrin green color of her eyes. Once again, she had combed her hair back away from her small horns and fastened it with jeweled clips. Tren looked stern and imposing and only the tight grip of his fingers in Budra’s fur betrayed his tension. T’gaira and the remaining Yehrin warriors followed. She knew it was an intimidating display—it had been designed that way—but as she looked at the waiting Quataran merchants, she shivered.

Although she had seen Quatarans from a distance, this was the first time she had been this close to them. She had been too distracted during the previous incident on the medical station to realize that they were so large, easily as tall as the Yehrin and equally as wide, although they seemed to run more to fat than muscle. Their faces were disturbingly pig-like with broad flat snouts, small dark eyes, and tusks protruding from their lower jaws. A bristle of coarse dark hair on their skulls was framed by two upstanding ears. They were all dressed in bright colored pants that ballooned out from their wide waists, topped by open layered robes in even more bright colors. The colorful display did nothing to make them seem less threatening. She didn’t trust their broad smiles or the obsequiousness with which they bowed in front of Lizabet. Their team had previously agreed that she and Tren would not take part in the initial introductions and looking at the Quatarans now as Lizabet greeted them with a regal chill, she was very grateful.

If possible, Tren had grown even stiffer as the Quatarans approached. Her hand was already tucked into his arm, but she moved closer until she was pressed along the side of his body. She did her best to keep her breathing slow and even, hoping that he would mimic it. Her mind kept flashing back to the meeting on the medical station where he had attacked the Quatarans, but he had gained some control since then. Despite his dreadful stillness, he did not attack.

Budra gave a long low growl and the nearest Quataran looked over. He gaped at the crileth and started to approach, but T’gaira stepped smoothly in front of him and intercepted his path.

The introductions were apparently complete because the entire party began to move away from the ship. Two of the Yehrin squads peeled off, leaving only T’gaira’s squad to accompany them into the vast complex of buildings. Based on Hisst’s briefing, this was the central government compound. The Quatarans were ruled by a Trade Board made up of wealthy merchants, all of whom had residences in the complex. This afternoon there was to be a preliminary informal meeting, although the real negotiations would begin in the morning. There was also a formal dinner tonight but she and Tren had been excused. She wasn’t quite sure how Lizabet had arranged that, but she was truly grateful.

Although the planet had been beautiful from the air, she did not find the government complex to match up to her expectations. The garish bright colors the Quatarans seemed to favor did nothing to disguise the fact that the actual buildings were square and stolid looking and arranged in rigid lines. A number of plants lined the wide pathway, but the overpowering sickly-sweet smell of the flowers made her stomach flip.

Which reminded her once again of her pregnancy. The medic had given her a prescription to help with the nausea and discussed some of the things that she might expect over the coming months, but the one topic they had not covered was how to tell her mate that he was going to be a father.

As the Quatarans led the way up a wide set of stairs and through a set of enormous double doors to a large gathering room, Emlan forced herself to concentrate on their current circumstances. Tren winced when a loud blast of trumpets announced their arrival, but she was too busy staring around in appalled horror to do more than give his arm a comforting squeeze. Every part of their surroundings seemed designed to clash. The floor was composed of stripes of red and white marble, while the walls were covered with green wallpaper embossed with blue and gold swirls. A set of long windows at the rear of the room were flanked by ornate purple and lavender curtains. The dizzying array of color and pattern made her blink heavily. It didn’t help that the room was extremely overheated and heavily perfumed, and the windows were tightly closed to prevent any breath of outside air.

“Are you well, my L’chka?” Tren bent down to murmur solicitously in her ear. Despite his obvious tension, he sounded as concerned as ever for her wellbeing.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy from the heat and the perfume.”

“It is most unpleasant,” he agreed. “Perhaps we could find an opportunity to visit the—”

Before he could finish, the trumpets sounded again to announce the arrival of the Vulfar. Curious about the new race, Emlan turned to study them. They, too, were as tall as the Yehrin, but they had lean muscular builds, without the massive size of the Yehrin or the corpulence of the Quatarans. Their faces bore a strong resemblance to standard humanoid features, but they had heavy brows, strong prominent features and angular jaws that thrust forward aggressively. Mane-like hair in a variety of shades sprang back from their brows to expose pointed ears. Their tails lashed behind them the same way Budra’s tail did when she was stalking her prey.

Dressed in a cross between Quataran flamboyance and Yehrin severity, they wore plain tight-fitting uniforms in deep blue, but the severe cut was relieved by large gold buttons. Each warrior also wore a sash in one of three different colors. To her surprise, there were also females amongst them, some of them dressed like her in formal gowns while others also wore the same uniform as the male warriors.

“They have female warriors?” she asked Tren softly.

“Yes.” He frowned in the direction of the Vulfar. “I do not approve.”

“Women are just as capable as men.”

“Of course, you are,” he said immediately. “But your strengths may lie in a different area.”

While it was hard to argue that point when looking up at seven feet of heavily muscled Yehrin warrior crowned with black curling horns, she was not prepared to concede her argument. Before she could speak however, one of the Vulfar headed in their direction. Tren obviously sensed that someone was approaching and began to tense, but as the Vulfar drew closer, he relaxed.

“I believe you are about to find out the truth of your statement,” he murmured.

“My statement?”

“That you would like anyone who assisted me.”

By this time, the Vulfar had reached them. The big male had a golden mane and startlingly bright blue eyes that swept over her curiously before he grinned, showing a set of very white sharp fangs.

“You must be the mysterious female that my partner mentioned.”

“We are not partners,” Tren growled, but a smile twisted his lips.

“You would deny our relationship?” The Vulfar put a hand to his chest in exaggerated shock, then winked at Emlan. She couldn’t help smiling back, deciding that she liked this new alien.

“My L’chka, this is O’kami. I allowed him to join my escape. O’kami, this is my Emlan.”

Okami swept an elaborate bow. “I am most pleased to meet you.”

“And I am very pleased to meet you,” she said, still smiling.

Tren tucked her closer with a possessive arm, then scowled at the Vulfar.

“Why did you want me here?”

“Because this needs to come to an end.” Okami quickly turned serious. “The Quatarans are—”

Before he could continue, there was another fanfare and people began to move from the current room into what looked like a banquet hall. With the addition of tables covered in brightly patterned tablecloths and piled high with garish decorations, it was even more overwhelming to the senses. While the smell of food was undoubtedly more pleasant than the over-perfumed air, Emlan’s stomach was still in no condition to appreciate the rich smell of roasting meat.

A timid-looking servant appeared at their side to encourage them to adjourn to the next room. While obviously a Quataran, he was only a little taller than Emlan and almost slender compared to the corpulent merchants.

“We will talk later,” Okami promised before he took off to join the rest of his delegation.

Emlan watched as he was approached by one of the females in an elaborate gown. Okami held himself stiffly as the female leaned closer to him, caressing his arm. Despite his apparent caution, he did not step away from her and together the two of them entered the banqueting hall.

“You will be seated now?” The servant asked.

“No,” Emlan said quickly. “I am not feeling well after the journey and Queen Lizabet arranged for us to go directly to our room instead.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I will have someone escort you.”

The servant moved away and Emlan saw Tren’s hands fist with frustration.

“I hate this,” he muttered. “I do not want to be here, but I should be able to handle a simple meal.”

“You know it will not be simple,” she said gently with another look around at the gaudy surroundings. “And somehow, I doubt we are missing much. What do you think Okami wants to talk to you about?”

The servant reappeared, along with a second male. He was the same size as the merchants but was dressed in plain white robes. He bowed obsequiously.

“I understand you wish to be taken to your quarters?”

The small servant had not caused a reaction from either Tren or Budra, but when the new male appeared, Budra snarled viciously. The male took a slight but noticeable step back and Tren appeared poised to attack. Other than his size, the new servant did not seem any different than the previous servant but something about him clearly upset Budra and Tren. She put a soothing hand on Tren’s arm, thankful that he still had his other hand fisted in Budra’s fur.

“Yes, I am quite tired from the journey,” she said into the tense silence.

“Of course, Mistress. If you will follow me.” He bowed again and turned away.

Tugging gently on Tren’s arm, she finally got him moving. They followed the servant through a confusing array of hallways before he paused outside a set of double doors.

“This room has been assigned to you. I trust you will find it satisfactory.” He threw open the doors with an elaborate gesture.

This room, too, had the same oddly clashing patterns but at least it was mainly confined to two colors—a vivid fuchsia and an equally vivid lime green. She forced herself to smile pleasantly.

“Yes, this will be just fine.”

He bowed them inside and closed the door behind them. As soon as they were alone, she turned to Tren. Despite the present circumstances, the longer she waited, the more her conscience nagged at her to tell him that she was pregnant. She could only hope that he would find the news comforting rather than traumatic.

“Now that we’re alone, I need to tell you—what’s wrong?”

Tren stood like a statue, his skin gleaming with sweat while his hands were clenched so tightly that his claws were cutting into his skin. The look on his face was a heartrending combination of anger and terror.

“Tren, what is it?”

The discussion about her pregnancy suddenly seems less urgent than whatever was driving him now.

“That male… He smelled like the mines, Emlan. He has been there recently.”

Now that he mentioned it, she had noticed a faint metallic scent, but it had been buried beneath the overwhelming perfume they all seemed to wear. How much worse it must have been for Tren with his enhanced senses to have such a strong reminder of that horrible time. She reached for him, and he grasped hold of her like a drowning man. Lifting her into his arms, he buried his face in her hair.

“Tell me that you are here. That you are real.”

“I’m here. I’m real.” She caressed his face and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. As if the touch of her lips had triggered something inside him, he groaned and took over, kissing her with a fierce hungry determination. Her body responded as it always did, her nipples turning to hard little points and her pussy dampening in eager expectation. When he finally raised his head, she managed to get her thoughts together enough to gasp. “Tren, we need—”

“Is there a bed?” he interrupted, his voice urgent.

“Yes, it is four steps behind you.” The gaudy monstrosity dominated the rear half of the room, hung with layers of fuchsia and lime curtains. “But—”

Once again, he did not give her a chance to finish speaking. He returned to kissing her, as frantic as ever as he strode the short distance and stumbled into the bed. He never paused, lowering her onto the ridiculously soft mattress and following her down, still kissing her. His claws came out and he ripped her gown open, pressing urgent kisses to her neck, to her breasts, before burying his face between her legs. One swipe of his rough-textured tongue across her already swollen clit and she clutched the base of his horns as a sudden sharp climax swept over her. He never paused, continuing to lash her clit with his tongue as he inserted first one finger, then two, entering her tight channel while it still pulsed with arousal. He growled approvingly as he spread his fingers, stretching her, preparing her. A moment later his mouth was gone, and she cried out in protest, looking up in time to see him rip away his own clothing. A second later, he was back, thrusting into her with a sudden shocking fullness. One big hand went under her hips, raising her higher, tighter against him as he stroked urgently into her helpless body. His other hand manacled her hands above her head, holding her in position for his need. She wanted to move, to meet his thrusts, but she could not, and that knowledge only added to her arousal. Her body ached and throbbed, already seeking another climax that was just out of reach.

“Tren,” she cried out.

He only growled again, moving faster and holding her tighter against his body so that his pelvis struck her clit with each stroke. Her body tightened, and then she heard him roar, felt the hot jet of his seed pulsing inside her, and she shattered, her body tightening around his as she strained to arch closer, to pull him even more tightly inside her.

A moment later his body collapsed over hers and he buried his head in her neck.

“Oh, Emlan, I love you so much. I will never let us be parted again.”

She clung to him, stroking the terrible scars that covered his back. He loved her—that was all she had to remember. No matter what he had said earlier, she truly believed that he would be happy about her news once he realized that it was simply another expression of their love. The heavy perfume that filled the air seem to have grown even stronger, almost sickly sweet, and she felt oddly tired, but she had to tell him, she had to get this out. Bracing herself for an initially negative reaction, she tugged gently on his horns, urging him to raise his head. Her hands felt strange and stiff, and he responded with unusual slowness, but he did raise his head. She wanted to touch his beloved face, but her hands felt too heavy to move. Her speech was slurred, but she forced the words out.

“My warrior, we’re going to have a baby. Please be happy—”

She lost the fight to stay awake, slipping into unconsciousness as shock covered his face.

T’renan shattered as he clasped his mate in his arms. He had taken her so quickly, so roughly, but she had been ready for him, the slick heat of her cunt welcoming him deep inside, reminding him that he was free, that he was with her once more. He bent down over her, totally drained as he whispered his love. It wasn’t until she tugged on his horns, urging him to raise his head that he noticed how difficult it was to move. Lifting his head felt like running through the thick sand on Eccalia. A sickeningly sweet smell filled the air, but he tried to concentrate on what she was saying. His senses were so dull that it took an agonizingly long time before her words penetrated. A baby? A vision floated through his mind of Emlan, glowing and ripe with their child and before his fear kicked in, a feeling of joy overwhelmed him. They were having a child together, celebrating their love with a new life. But he couldn’t hold onto his happiness, suddenly aware that something was terribly wrong. The knowledge came too late to prevent him from slipping into unconsciousness. His last thought before the darkness took him was that he had already failed her—her and their child.

Chapter Twenty-One

The sound of voices gradually penetrated Tren’s consciousness. His head ached as if someone had taken a hammer to his horns, but that was the least of his concerns—where was Emlan? The last thing he remembered was her telling him that she was pregnant. The trepidation in her voice made him wince internally as he remembered his foolish comments onboard the ship. How could he have said such a thing? How could he have made her think, even for a second, that he would not want a child with her?

He tried to force his eyes open, to raise his head, but whatever drug they had been given was too powerful. He prayed fervently to the Ancestors that it had not been strong enough to harm Emlan or their child. Even though he couldn’t move, he could still feel, and he gradually realized that he was sprawled uncomfortably on the floor. Based on the surrounding scents, he thought he was lying next to their bed. He tried to take in more air through his nose, searching for clues as to what had happened. A surge of relief went through him as he caught Emlan’s delicious fragrance—but he also caught the harsh metallic stink of the Quataran guards who worked in the mines. What were they doing here?

A third scent intruded, musky but not unpleasant, and he realized that a Vulfar must be present as well. No, not just Vulfar—that was O’kami’s scent. But why was the Vulfar here? He strained to hear more of the Quatarans’ conversation.

“Is Marajca sure this is going to work, Verat?” The voice was young, impatient.

“Hell, yeah. Everyone knows the Vulfar are untrustworthy bastards.” The second voice was harsher, and he thought older.

A grunting laugh. “Yeah, because we made them think that.”

“It wasn’t hard, given their natural predilections.”

One of the voices came nearer until it sounded as if he were right next to the bed.

“Shame about the female. She’s a tasty little morsel even if she is a half-breed—probably fetch a lot of money on the underground market.”

“Yeah, I agree. But Marajca thought there would be too many questions if she disappeared. This is better. It will be obvious that the Vulfar tried to rape the Yehrin’s mate and then he and the Vulfar killed each other.”

The rage that consumed him should have been hot enough to set the carpet beneath him on fire, but there was no outward sign of his anger and his body still would not respond to his will.

“So how long we gotta wait?” the younger guard whined.

“Long enough that no one will be able to tell they were drugged, but not long enough for them to regain consciousness.” A booted foot kicked his ankle and even though he could not move, he felt the impact. “I’d hate to take on this big bastard. Did you hear what he did to Cerdon?”

“Oh yeah. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He was a sadistic son of a bitch.”

Another grunted laugh. “That’s what we need in the mines. Gotta keep the slaves in line.”

“Do you think the Yehrin are buying the whole innocent merchant act?”

“Of course, they are. Fucking warriors think with their weapons not their heads. It’s too easy to have them blame everything on the big, bad Vulfar.”

The footsteps moved away as the two Quatarans talked. The combination of their voices and odors put them by the window. He thought Emlan was on the bed above him, while he was sprawled on the floor next to it. O’kami’s scent also came from the bed, and the very thought of another male so close to his mate sent another wave of anger through his body. His hand jerked, as if in response to his desire to clench his fists. Perhaps the adrenaline from his anger was helping to combat the drug.

The Quatarans were still talking, describing in obscene and hopefully exaggerated detail what they had done to a female slave the previous evening. He felt sick beneath his rage. The mines had been bad enough, but all of the prisoners had at least been male. The thought that they had also enslaved precious females and subjected them to the kind of treatment the males were describing was almost unthinkable.

The younger Quataran wandered back over and kicked him again. “How much longer do we have to wait? I have a mind to have a second go at that female slave.”

“Here, Sanga. Stick this in his leg and see if he jumps. The bodily sensations should return first.”

A sudden flare of white-hot agony shot through his leg as the guard jabbed what felt like a long, sharp needle into his thigh. Despite the shocking pain, it was still far less painful than the shock collar had been, and he managed to control his reflexes and not move.

“Yeah, he’s still out. What about the other two?”

The thought of the bastard sticking a needle in Emlan’s delicate flesh caused a wave of fury so intense that it was all he could do to prevent his hands from moving.

“Not necessary. The gas was aimed at him. The other two will be out long after he recovers.”

“I almost hope he’s awake enough to see the Vulfar on top of his precious female.”

“The Vulfar can’t be fucking the female and fighting to the death with the Yehrin at the same time, you idiot.”

“Shit. I kinda liked the idea here of making my own porno vid.” The sound of a meaty hand striking something echoed through the room. “Ow, Verat. What the fuck did you do that for?”

“Because I don’t want to have to go back and tell Marajca you fucked everything up by being a pervert.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one who wanted that slave to…”

The Quatarans wandered off again and he discreetly attempted to make a fist. Although it was a slow and painful process, a sense of triumph washed over him when he succeeded. Keeping a careful ear out for the location of the Quatarans, he worked on regaining control of his body, clenching and unclenching all of his muscles in turn. The knowledge that his mate was close by and helpless, along with the precious life she carried, only fueled his urgency.

Twice, one of the Quatarans returned to plunge the sharp object into his flesh, but each time he was prepared, and he called upon the restraint he had learned in the mines to keep from reacting. After the last time, the young impatient one kicked him again.

“I’m bored,” he complained. “Can I at least play with the female?”

“Don’t be stupid. You don’t want your DNA on her corpse.”

“I’ll use the Vulfar,” Sanga said eagerly. “He’s the one who is supposed to have been touching her anyway. Look, don’t you think he would have grabbed one of these cute little titties, maybe sunk his claws in just enough to make her squeal?”

The faint delicate scent of Emlan’s blood reached him and even knowing that they could easily defeat him in his still half paralyzed condition, he gathered himself to try and spring for the male. Perhaps it was for the best that the older Quataran once again slapped the other.

“Would you fucking stop that? If you are that fucking desperate, go in the san and take care of yourself. Just make sure you don’t leave any clues behind.”

“Fuck, maybe I will. Not that my hand will be much of a substitute.”

Once again, the guards moved away, and he caught the faint sound of the door to the sanitary facility closing. Verat was back at the window, apparently talking on some type of communication device. He appeared to be making arrangements for later in the evening and T’renan returned his attention to testing his muscles.

A soft brush against his ankle almost made him flinch where the needle had failed. For the second time he tried to pry his eyes open. He had not attempted to open them after his initial attempt since he suspected that his sight would be of little help. The dark grey blur that met his eyes confirmed his suspicions, but he thought he was staring into the darkness beneath the bed.

A second brush, then a third, in a deliberate pattern, and he suddenly realized that the object brushing against his leg was a foot. The pattern reminded him of the coded taps that he and O’kami had used to communicate in the mines. He slowly and carefully adjusted his position enough that he could just reach O’kami’s foot and respond.

Drugged, he tapped.

A single tap for yes.

Plot.

Yes.

Can move?

Some.

With careful concentration, he managed to tap out a warning about the test. So far, the Quatarans had concentrated on him, but they might change their process.

What plan? O’kami tapped.

Wait.

How long?

He calculated rapidly. As best he could tell, he had been awake for about an hour and had recovered possibly half of his ability to move. Would the Quatarans wait another hour before their impatience took over? The older one seemed more patient, but now that he had plans for the evening, he might be tempted to push up the timeline. The Quatarans must assume that their bodies would be discovered, but did they anticipate that happening tonight or in the morning? He had no way of knowing how long he had been unconscious, but he would not expect anyone to try and visit them until after the banquet and the speeches. Based on L’zabet’s gloomy predictions, those would last late into the evening.

Plan? O’kami tapped again.

Wait. Kill.

Yes. How could a tap sound enthusiastic?

The next minutes passed with agonizing slowness. The younger Quataran returned, threw himself down in a chair, and began to snore while the older sounded like he was playing games on his communication device. Periodically, he would come over and poke T’renan, but he began to mutter each time he did not react.

The last time the guard kicked him and walked away, T’renan caught the faint rustle of fur. He strained his eyes and thought he caught a gleam of yellow eyes in the darkness under the bed. Budra was also waking up and while the crileth had a natural talent for stealth, he did not know how long she would wait before she tried to pounce. He tapped O’kami’s foot.

Can move?

Some

It would have to do.

Prepare, he tapped.

Chapter Twenty-Two

After O’kami tapped his agreement, T’renan evaluated the possible scenarios. If he could take the older guard by surprise next time he approached, he could be sure of where he was located, but the younger guard would still be an issue. If both guards were at the bed, he would know exactly where they were, but he would be fighting two males instead of one. Despite O’kami’s willingness, the Vulfar was at least an hour behind his own recovery time and was probably limited in his ability to fight.

A wet tongue rasped across the hand lying beneath the bed and he had a hard time preventing a fierce grin from crossing his face. If Budra was capable of movement, that certainly improved the odds.

The older guard started across the room once more, and he tensed, determined to make the attempt. On the way, Verat stopped and smacked the younger guard again.

“Wake up, you lazy bastard.”

“Is it time?” The younger male sounded confused and still half asleep. Excellent.

“I’m tired of waiting. I arranged to have that slave brought to my quarters later and I want to make sure I have time to get my money’s worth out of her.”

“What about Marajca?”

“Fuck him. I doubt anyone is going to come looking for a blind warrior and his half-breed mate until morning. The drugs will be long gone by then.”

“You’re the boss. How do you want to do this?”

“I’ve been thinking. We need it to look as realistic as possible. This is the scenario. The Yehrin comes in, finds the Vulfar on top of his mate. He yanks him off and starts to strangle him. The Vulfar goes for his weapon and accidentally shoots the female before he shoots the Yehrin. Then in his death throes, the Yehrin manages to snap the Vulfar’s neck.”

If he had not been so enraged by the entire situation, he would have laughed at the Quataran’s stupidity. Any trained investigator would have been able to poke holes in his proposed scenario.

He forced himself to remain limp as the Quatarans started to pull him up. The older one grunted.

“Fuck, he’s heavy. Just drop him on the bed. We can put his hands around the Vulfar’s neck from there.”

As they started to let him fall, he turned the movement into a controlled turn and grabbed the guard closest to him, throwing his elbow in the direction of the second guard and sending him towards O’kami. He heard Budra growl and the Quataran scream as the smell of blood filled the air, but he was too intent on keeping his captive in a chokehold. With one arm around the guard’s thick neck, he snaked his other arm behind the male’s head and with one quick jerk, he broke his neck.

“Do you need help?” he asked as he searched the bed for Emlan’s body. As soon as he found her, he pulled her into his arms, frantically checking for signs of life. After a terrifying second, he found her pulse, beating slowly but steadily beneath his fingers. Her breathing was deep and even and he gave a relieved sigh.

“No,” O’kami gasped. “Do you want this one to live?”

Every instinct he had urged that they kill the male, but perhaps he would be of more use alive. Reluctantly, he nodded.

“Perhaps. We may need someone to talk.”

There was a sharp thud.

“He should live,” O’kami said carelessly. “If your pet doesn’t tear him to pieces first.”

“Come, Budra,” he ordered, and a moment later, the warm fur and ragged spikes pressed up against him. “Good girl.”

He had been examining Emlan with his hands the entire time but although he’d found no signs of damage other than the claw marks on her breast, she still had not responded to his touch. He wrapped a blanket around her and prepared to stand.

“I need a medic,” he said urgently. “Will you escort us there?”

“Just wait a minute. If we leave here, the Quatarans will know that they failed.”

“I do not care. They drugged my mate and I do not know what they used… she is with child.” The last statement filled him with equal amounts of joy and fear.

“Is there someone you can call? Someone who can come here instead?”

“T’gaira,” he said immediately. “He is her bodyguard and he has had medical training. Is there a communicator next to the bed?”

“Yes, here it is.”

He took the device and tapped out the sequence to alert T’gaira. An immediate answering hum assured him that the older warrior was on his way.

“He’s coming,” he said with a sigh of relief. The knowledge enabled him to relax enough to consider the situation. “How did they get you here?”

“I have no idea. Except that I am a fucking idiot who fell for the same fucking trap twice in a row.”

O’kami started pacing, his voice enabling T’renan to track his movements.

“The female—the one I told you who is supposed to be my mate?”

“Yes, I remember.” He pulled Emlan even closer against him, grateful that his own mate was in his arms.

“I knew that Clan Fuchon was going to be here, so I was not surprised when I saw her. I was surprised when she was all over me, telling me what a mistake she had made.” O’kami sighed. “I was a fool, but she knew exactly what I wanted to hear. And when she suggested that I meet her in her room…”

“You did not hesitate to join her?”

“Exactly. And after she got me sufficiently excited, she excused herself to change, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up here.”

“You know,” he said slowly. “This is about more than just the two of us. Why are they so determined to prevent peace talks?”

“Profit.” The faint whisper came from Emlan’s lips.

“My L’chka. Are you all right? Is the baby all right?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice was low and shaky. “But the baby? What if the drug harmed her?”

He could feel her tears wetting his chest and he swore silently. If T’gaira thought that anything was wrong, he didn’t care what games were being played, he was taking her to a medic immediately. As if in response to his thoughts, the door to T’gaira’s adjourning room chimed.

“It’s the older warrior who was with you earlier,” Okami confirmed.

“Let him in.”

“What is wrong?” T’gaira demanded as soon as he entered.

“We were all drugged. Some kind of gas I think, sent through the ventilation system. It appears to be wearing off, but Emlan is pregnant and we do not know—”

“—if the drug affected the baby,” T’gaira finished. “I will need to scan her. May I approach?”

Until T’gaira asked, he hadn’t realized that he was huddled protective around Emlan with his claws extended. The thought of another male so close to his female, especially so soon after the events of the evening, made him snarl, but her health was more important than his instincts. He nodded.

“I’m sure I’m fine,” Emlan said weakly. “But the baby, I’m worried about the baby.”

“No use worrying yet,” T’gaira said gruffly. “Let me scan you first.”

There was a moment of tense silence and he could see a faint green glow from the monitor hovering over his mate’s stomach. Now more than ever he missed his sight. He wanted to see the results for himself, instead of waiting for another to inform him about his own mate. To his shock, Emlan patted his arm soothingly, but before she could speak, T’gaira cleared his throat.

“Everything looks perfect.” He cleared his throat again, and T’renan suspected that he was as relieved as they were.

“He is fine?”

“She is—you are having a daughter.”

“Praise the Ancestors.”

Tears once again flowed down Emlan ‘s cheeks but he knew this time they were tears of joy. He lowered his head and kissed her, sharing in that joy, but before he could lose himself in her kiss, O’kami spoke.

“I am delighted that your mate and your child are well, but we still have a problem to resolve.”

“And I would like to know what is going on,” T’gaira added. “Why were you drugged? And where did the bodies come from?”

Emlan listened in shock as Tren explained the scenario that the Quatarans had planned. Her mind traveled back to the conversation they had been having when she first regained consciousness.

“You said that they are trying to prevent the peace talks, right?” she asked.

“Yes. And you said it was about profit.” Okami studied her with his shockingly blue eyes. “What did you mean?”

“I was thinking about a conversation we had before, on Eccalia. We said that no one profited from the war except the people who make weapons,” she said slowly.

“But the Quatarans don’t make weapons.”

“No, perhaps not directly. But do they not sell things that are used to make weapons?” She turned to Tren. “You were here originally to protect a trading route, were you not?”

Okami snorted. “Is that what they told you?”

Tren frowned at him. “What were they doing?”

“For one thing, they were setting you up. Whenever they were in the mood to make a little extra profit, they would contact one of the more aggressive Vulfar clans and let them know that a Yehrin ship would be in the vicinity—and exactly where and when.”

“There’s that word again, profit,” she murmured. “What did you mean by extra profit?”

“They would be transporting a load of goods which they had sold to one buyer. Of course, after it was supposedly destroyed, they would be unable to complete the transaction. Meanwhile, they would go ahead and sell the same load of goods to another buyer.” Okami sounded almost admiring.

“You don’t approve of that, do you?” she asked.

“No, but it was a clever scheme.”

“One they could not continue if you were not lying in wait for our ships.” T’gaira glared at the Vulfar.

“True.” Okami grinned.

“T’gaira, who supplies the dartrillium crystals for the Yehrin fleet?” Tren asked.

“The Quatarans,” T’gaira said grimly.

“Fuck, they do for us as well.” Okami lost his smile as he raked a hand through his long golden mane. “This is all a game to them, isn’t it? Pitting us against each other and making a profit in every direction.”

“Profits they are willing to kill for,” Tren added.

“So, what do we do about it?” she asked.

“It’s a sure bet that some of the Vulfar clans have been doing more than just attacking Yehrin ships guarding trade routes. We are always looking for an advantage against the other clans. That’s how I ended up here. Again.” His tail lashed angrily.

“The Yehrin would never do such a thing.” Tren scowled.

“Do not be naïve, boy,” T’gaira scoffed. “Remember how eager Commander T’vaina was to attack? Wondered at the time why he was so anxious. Bet he is being paid off.”

“We need Lizabet,” she said thoughtfully. “She was able to stop Commander T’vaina and has connections everywhere.”

“Not without connections yourself, Emlan. Your father is a planetary supreme commander,” T’gaira said dryly.

“What about you, Okami? You have an impressive sounding title.” Tren raised an eyebrow at the Vulfar.

“I am not without influence.” Okami grinned. “So here we are on a hostile planet with people trying to kill us, without knowing who to trust, and we have to convince the Yehrin and the Vulfar to work together for the very first time in order to defeat a bunch of greedy merchants. It almost makes one wish for the peace of the mine.”

Despite his words, he did not appear the least bit concerned and when she looked around, she saw answering fierce grins on the faces of both T’gaira and Tren. She put her hand over her stomach and shook her head, but she found it impossible to be too worried in the face of their confidence. Everything would work out.

Chapter Twenty-Three

As she studied Lizabet’s concerned face later that evening, Emlan did not feel quite so optimistic. T’gaira had notified T’kol that they needed to see them as soon as possible, but it was impossible for the three of them to slip away before the end of the banquet. While they waited, she had dressed and applied healing gel to the marks on her breast. Fortunately, the claw marks were shallow and wouldn’t scar. Tren had persuaded her to eat something and to her relief, the pills the medic had given her let her enjoy her food for the first time in a week. When she looked up after finishing her meal and realized that all three of the others were eyeing her plate hungrily, she laughed and insisted that they all eat as well. Over the consumption of incredibly large amounts of food and several mugs of ale, the three males swapped stories.

Okami proved to be an entertaining companion. He even succeeded in drawing some reluctant smiles from the normally stoic T’gaira. Tren also responded to the Vulfar’s teasing with unexpected ease. He missed this, she realized—this interchange with other males. No matter how happy they were together, he still needed time with his fellow warriors. The only time she saw Okami’s charming facade slip was when the Quataran started to rouse. He walked over to the guard, his tail lashing angrily, and kicked the male in the head with sudden shocking brutality before returning casually to the previous subject.

It wasn’t until after her stomach was full and she was relaxing back against Tren that she started to get nervous.

“What if they drug us again?” she asked with a suspicious look around the room.

“Set up a poison detector,” T’gaira said without looking up from his plate.

A new worry occurred to her. “What if they are monitoring us?”

“Nah. Checked for bugs as soon as we arrived.”

She supposed that made sense—if the Quatarans had been monitoring them, they would have interceded during the fight.

“Relax, little one,” Tren murmured. “You are safe now. I will not be caught off guard again.”

With a sigh, she settled back into his arms and yawned. Being drugged was surprisingly exhausting. As she closed her eyes and snuggled against him, she was acutely conscious of how familiar this felt—Tren holding her while a group of warriors laughed and try to outdo each other with their stories. She felt a sudden overwhelming rush of homesickness. She missed her parents and her sisters, she missed her friends, she missed Earth. Once, she had been so eager to leave the planet where she didn’t quite belong and now, she could not wait to return. Perhaps after this Quataran business was resolved, it would be time to go home.

As Lizabet had predicted, the banquet did run long and Emlan was almost asleep when the door to T’gaira’s adjoining room swung open. All three males were instantly on the alert and did not relax until T’kol appeared. T’kol also had his hand on his weapons belt as he checked their room. His gaze traveled over the four of them until he came to the two Quatarans. The dead male had been wrapped in one of the hideous carpets and bundled against the wall. The one that still lived was tied next to him.

“You appear to have had a much more interesting evening than I did,” he said dryly.

“I know.” Lizabet sighed as she slid in behind him. “But I would have thought that you realized by now how tedious diplomacy can be.”

“I do. I find a sword to be much more efficient.” T’kol grinned, flashing sharp white teeth.

“I quite agree,” Okami responded with an equally fierce grin.

The Yehrin and the Vulfar were so much alike, she realized. No wonder they did not get along. Or at least had not gotten along until now. Strange bedfellows, indeed.

Lizabet snorted as she came and sat down beside Emlan and Tren. “If everyone thought like you two, I would be out of a job. And then what would I do?”

“Spend all of your time letting us worship you, my queen.” Hisst followed her to the couch, immediately picking her up and placing her on his lap, the same way Tren was holding Emlan.

Lizabet gave him a quick kiss then turned back to her. “So, what is going on?”

By the time Okami and Tren finished explaining, Lizabet was frowning down at her hands.

“Those bastards. And we—I—fell for it. We have been providing ‘protection’ for their trade routes for more than a decade.”

“What can we do about it? Why didn’t the Yehrin simply conquer the system a long time ago?” Emlan asked.

“There was no need,” T’kol said. “They had already achieved interstellar travel and did not require guidance. They appeared to be peaceful merchants with a useful place in our society.”

“And the Supreme Council has been listening more to the point of view of the Scholars,” Lizabet added. “With the discovery of Earth, there is no longer the same need to acquire new planets.”

“Why Earth?” Okami asked, tilting his head inquisitively.

With his head at that angle and his ears perked, he suddenly reminded her of the way Tribs looked at her when he was considering mischief, and she had to fight back a giggle. No doubt he would be most offended that she had compared him to a small purple pet.

Lizabet exchanged a somewhat helpless glance with T’kol. The Yehrin had been driven by the search to find compatible species with which to mate, but they did not discuss their mating challenges with other races.

“We have found Earth to be a source of highly desirable mates,” he said smoothly. “Can you imagine choosing a Quataran instead of our lovely female?”

Okami shuddered. “My cock would never be that desperate.”

All of the males laughed while Emlan and Lizabet rolled their eyes at each other.

“But you did not take this system because you chose not to take it, correct? Not because you could not take it.” Emlan tried to bring the conversation back on task.

“Of course not,” Tren growled, and the other Yehrin males echoed the sentiment.

“For that matter,” Okami said arrogantly, “the Vulfar could easily take the entire sector.” Then he grinned and shrugged. “But we have no real interest in managing the problems of other systems. It is much more entertaining to fight amongst ourselves.” A moment later, his face sobered. “But that reminds me, did anyone comment on my absence?”

Lizabet shook her head, but T’kol laughed.

“There was much discussion amongst the male warriors,” he said with an apologetic look at his mate. “You were seen leaving with a very attractive female. Although I did notice that some of the Vulfar appeared more irate than amused.”

“That is because Hying is a traitorous bitch who is trying to set my clan against Clan Fuchon.” Okami’s tail lashed as he ran his fingers through his mane. “I wonder what excuse she planned to give them for my disappearance.”

“How long until we could have a sufficient force in place to take Quatar with minimum bloodshed?” Tren asked T’kol.

“A few days. We have a large force here for the conference, but not enough to take the entire planet.”

“Will have more tomorrow,” T’gaira interjected. The old warrior had been silent until now, observing rather than participating.

“Why is that?” Tren frowned at him.

“Supreme Commander T’lan has decided that it is time to bring his daughter home. Not coming alone.”

“What do you mean? I thought I talked him out of coming after me,” she said indignantly.

“Nah.” T’gaira shook his head. “Just made him slow down a little. Gave your mother and sisters a chance to accompany him.”

Tren’s body had tensed beneath her and she suspected that he assumed that T’lan did not have faith in his ability to care for her. Personally, she guessed that her mother had been the driving force and that her father, as usual, was unable to deny her.

“Mama does like to get her way,” she said casually. “And Lillie and Leslie must be thrilled—surrounded by whole ship full of Yehrin warriors.”

Tren’s body relaxed a fraction.

“Will that be enough to take the planet?” she asked.

T’kol and T’gaira exchanged glances, then reluctantly shook their heads.

“Close, perhaps, but not enough to avoid unnecessary bloodshed,” T’kol said.

“Not even with the assistance of a Vulfar armada?” Okami asked.

T’gaira gave him a frankly skeptical look, but T’kol looked speculative. “You do not have that large of a fleet present in the system currently.”

“But I have another equally large fleet biding their time in the asteroid belt.” Okami raised his brows at them. “Surely you do not think that we would be unprepared for betrayal by the barbarians? After all, the Quatarans have shown us over and over again that the Yehrin cannot be trusted.”

Hisst began to laugh. “Am I the only one who finds it ironic that the very situation the Quatarans orchestrated may well turn out to be their downfall?”

T’kol was still frowning at Okami. “You said your people preferred to fight with each other. Would they join you in this?”

“They will obey.” For a moment, Okami lost his casual demeanor. The confidence in his voice and the way he held himself reminded her of her father when he was in ruling mode. Just exactly what was Okami’s position with the Vulfar? She darted a look at Lizabet and saw the other woman looking just as intrigued. But then Okami shrugged. “And they like to fight. It will not be difficult to convince them. Of course, they will naturally expect some reward.”

Lizabet laughed. “I expect this is where I come in. I am sure something can be arranged.”

“How long do you think we have before the Quatarans realize that their plot has failed?” Tren asked quietly. “They may not be observing us in our rooms, but they are undoubtedly watching the hallways. And at some point, they will expect those males to report back.”

“Perhaps we should question this one,” Okami said a little too gleefully, and Emlan shivered.

Tren immediately tightened his grip around her. “Not in front of the females.”

“Or me.” Hisst shuddered delicately, even though from what Lizabet had told her, Emlan knew he was a deadly warrior in his own right. “I shall escort my queen and Emlan into the next room.”

T’gaira rose as well. “Not letting you out of my sight, girl. Commander T’renan can handle the inquisition without me.”

Tren nodded and placed her carefully on her feet. “I will come for you soon,” he promised, then he pressed a gentle kiss to her stomach. “Take care of our child.”

Unexpected tears filled her eyes. His touch was so reverent, so gentle, that his affection for their unborn child could not be denied. Her instincts had been correct, he would love and care for the child with all of the patience and devotion that he possessed. Her daughter was a very lucky little girl.

Chapter Twenty-Four

T’renan waited as patiently as possible while L’zabet and Emlan decided on their outfits. It had been a long night and he had not had any time alone with Emlan. Throughout the planning and strategy sessions and the multiple communications with both the Yehrin fleet and the Vulfar armada, a portion of his mind was always conscious of her and the baby. Both Emlan and L’zabet had been persuaded to rest and he was grateful for that, although he missed being able to hold her in his arms. They had not had any time alone to discuss the baby, but he hoped that she no longer had any doubts about his happiness.

“You look beautiful, Emlan. Very regal,” L’zabet said in a satisfied voice.

He could not see any details, of course, but he caught the glimmer of pink silk and the rustle of fabric as Emlan moved. He had always liked her in pink and once again, he felt the familiar flare of anger at what the Quatarans had taken from him, but it was muted now, dampened by the more important need to care for his family.

“We must go, Lissie,” H’sst said firmly. “They will be expecting you at the opening ceremonies and we do not want to cause any suspicion.”

“All right, I’m coming.”

Based on the swirl of movement, she hugged Emlan before she departed. Now only O’kami and Emlan remained. T’gaira had somehow managed to arrange for the removal of the Quataran bodies. He turned to his mate.

“Shall we go?”

She tucked her hand in his arm and leaned against him. “Yes, my warrior.”

“Are you worried, my L’chka?”

While they had tried to plan for every foreseeable contingency, there was always the chance that something would go wrong.

“Perhaps a little, but I have faith that everything will work out.”

Budra came to his other side, pressing against him anxiously. The crileth had not enjoyed the number of strangers invading their quarters and like T’renan, she had not rested. He scratched reassuringly at the base of her head spikes and she made a contented little sound.

“Let’s get started,” O’kami said. “We wouldn’t want to be late for our own party.”

Throughout the evening, he had been even more impressed with the Vulfar. Despite an irreverent attitude and a somewhat twisted sense of humor, O’kami had proven to be an immensely valuable ally. He had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of Quataran dealings, and apparently wielded a great deal of command over the Vulfar forces. The one fortunate part of his own imprisonment in the mines was meeting O’kami. As H’sst had mentioned the previous evening, this was another example of the Quatarans causing their own downfall. He doubted that the Yehrin and the Vulfar would ever have joined forces otherwise.

With O’kami leading the way, they exited their quarters and proceeded towards the assembly rooms. As the guard had reluctantly disclosed when questioned, the corridors were being watched and they only made it as far as the first intersection before they were intercepted by more Quataran guards. These guards carried the stink of the mines and he found his claws extending automatically.

“What are you doing here?” one of them demanded.

“Why, where else would we be?” O’kami responded innocently. “We are going to join the negotiations, of course.”

“But—” another guard began, before he was cut off by the leader.

“Where are Sanga and Verat?”

“I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of their acquaintance.”

There was a brief muttered discussion amongst the guards.

“They were sent to… escort you,” the leader finally said. “Since you did not encounter them, we will perform that service.”

He caught enough of their movement to realize that the small group was starting to move into position on either side of them, but before they could be surrounded, the brisk tapping of claws sounded behind them.

“No need for that,” T’gaira said abruptly. “My squad will accompany them.”

There was another brief muttering from the guards, but they were clearly outnumbered by the Yehrin squad. With not entirely muffled curses, they reluctantly departed.

“Perfect timing, as always,” he said to T’gaira. They had arranged for the older warrior to appear as soon as they were confronted by the Quatarans. Based on the dead guard’s information, only a select group of Quatarans were in on the plot to eliminate the three of them and incur additional hostilities between the Yehrin and the Vulfar. They had been brought from the mines specifically as part of the plot masterminded by Marajca and the rest of the Trade Board. While they had backed down when confronted by T’gaira’s squad, he didn’t trust the quick withdrawal and kept his senses alert in preparation for an attack. Fortunately, they reached the assembly rooms without further issue.

He suspected they made quite a display as they marched in, accompanied by the Yehrin squad in full uniform. Emlan subtly steered him to where L’zabet and her mates were waiting.

“Are these additional representatives?” a Quataran asked.

“Yes, Minister Marajca,” L’zabet said calmly. “I have asked them to join us.”

“I really must protest. The representatives for this meeting were quite carefully chosen.”

“And I would like to remind you that I was one of those chosen,” O’kami said smoothly.

“I was under the impression that you had been replaced by Chief Uragi,” Marajca replied.

A muttered conversation appeared to be occurring amongst the Vulfar and he heard a female’s outraged snarl before a deep authoritative voice spoke up.

“Chief Okami has never been replaced. He is fully authorized to speak for the Vulfar.”

“Why thank you, Nisani. I am grateful for the support.” There was an odd note in O’kami’s voice, but T’renan was more interested in what Marajca was saying.

“Well, of course, if you are the chosen one. But these two,” his voice dripped with disdain, “surely they do not belong here.”

“On the contrary.” L’zabet’s voice was like silk over steel. “Mistress Emlan is the daughter of a planetary supreme commander.”

His sensitive hearing caught the Quataran’s shocked gasp. “She is also mated to Commander T’renan who I have asked to join us today in order to discuss the misdeeds of your people.”

“We have been through this before. His imprisonment was an unfortunate misunderstanding as a result of the Vulfar—” Marajca stopped abruptly, and T’renan almost grinned. The minister must have realized that it would be difficult to blame the Vulfar while they were standing in front of him.

“I am sure that you were not about to insinuate that we were responsible,” O’kami said coldly.

“No, of course not. But you must admit that misunderstandings can occur.”

“Misunderstandings seem to occur frequently when the Quatarans are involved.” L’zabet raised her voice slightly, enough to be heard clearly by everyone gathered in the rooms. “In fact, you have manipulated both the Vulfar and the Yehrin for a very long time.”

A few startled gasps sounded, but the majority of people in the room were already aware of what was about to happen. The Quatarans were not amongst them.

Marajca started to protest, but L’zabet cut him off.

“We have decided that your time is up.”

“What do you mean?” Marajca blustered. “Are you forgetting that we provide dartrillium crystals to your fleet? And to your armada, Chief Okami.”

“And we may allow you to continue to do so,” O’kami said. “But you will be under the control of the Yehrin.”

“Never. You have no authority over us.”

“I suggest that you communicate with your air control, or perhaps it would be easiest just to show you,” L’zabet said coolly.

He caught a flash of gold as L’zabet moved to the windows that lined one side of the room and threw them open. This time the astonishment was clearly audible. He knew what they were seeing—a Yehrin battleship hovering over most of the city—but he wished he could see the looks of shock and horror on their faces.

“But you can’t,” Marajca protested.

“We can and we will. Your free reign over this sector is at an end. If you cooperate, some of you may be allowed to continue your dealings, but this time they will be honest exchanges. And there will be absolutely no dealing in slavery.”

More protests followed, but to his gratification, he also caught the stink of fear coming from a number of the Quatarans. It was not in any way sufficient recompense for his years in the mine, for his years without Emlan, but he felt a certain measure of satisfaction, nonetheless. The core of anger deep in his heart finally began to dissolve.

As if in response to his thoughts, Emlan leaned closer and whispered to him. “Does this make you feel better?”

“You make me feel better,” he said honestly, and uncaring of the people surrounding them, he picked her up in his arms and kissed her.

“Do you think you should be doing that in front of me?” Supreme Commander T’lan’s familiar voice made him smile before he remembered the circumstances. He stiffened instinctively into the posture of a warrior expecting a reprimand.

“Daddy,” Emlan cried, and wiggled down out of his arms. “I’m so happy to see you. Although you did not need to come all the way out here,” she added in a scolding voice, but he could clearly hear her happiness.

“Perhaps I missed you. As I have missed you, my friend.” T’lan’s hand grasped his shoulder. “It has been too many years.”

The warmth in the older warrior’s voice eased his fears that T’lan would no longer find him acceptable as his daughter’s mate. They had spent so many years together, and in many ways, he thought of T’lan as a father figure. While he would never give up Emlan, T’lan’s approval of their union mattered to him.

“It is good to hear your voice,” he said sincerely.

“I heard about your sight. I am truly sorry.”

“You may think me less worthy of Emlan now—”

Emlan started to protest but T’lan cut her off. “I would never think you unworthy. You are the only male I ever wished to entrust with my daughter’s happiness.”

The sincerity in T’lan’s voice could not be doubted and an odd lump formed in his throat. He managed a curt nod, hoping that the older male understood what he did not have the words to say. To still have T’lan’s honor and respect despite his physical limitations meant the world to him.

“Well, of course he makes me happy,” Emlan said briskly. “T’gaira said that Mama and the twins are with you. Where are they?”

“I am tempted to say that I am with them instead,” T’lan said dryly. “Your mother has been quite insistent on this visit.”

Another knot in his stomach dissolved. It appeared that Emlan had been correct in her suspicions and T’lan had not come to watch over her because he feared that T’renan was not capable.

“Then where are they?” she demanded.

“They will join us as soon as I have confirmed that the situation is under complete control.”

Emlan laughed. “Then if I know Mama, you had best hurry, or she will have stolen a shuttle and be on her way.”

“You are correct as always, my daughter.” T’lan’s hand once again clasped his shoulder. “I look forward to spending more time with both of you in the very near future.”

Much later that evening, T’renan sat in a corner of the banquet hall feeling unexpectedly content as the sounds of celebration continued all around him. Emlan had long since fallen asleep in his arms, exhausted from her reunion with her family and the meager rest the previous night. The soft weight of her body was a comforting warmth, a constant reminder that she was safe here with him. Budra lay at his feet, her massive head resting against his ankles.

Even before the other warrior spoke, he caught the scent of O’kami approaching.

“Here.”

He thrust a mug of Quataran ale into T’renan’s free hand.

“To victory, my friend.”

O’kami clinked his mug against his and he drained it. The warmth of the ale spread through his system and he found himself relaxing in the simple comfort of a drink with a friend. The Quatarans might be thrice-damned bastards but they produced excellent ale.

“May I ask you something?” Okami said suddenly.

“Could I stop you?”

“Probably not.”

He could hear the laughter in the other male’s voice before he abruptly sobered. “Why have you not had your sight repaired? Is it a mark of honor among the Yehrin to keep their wounds?”

“There are some wounds we cannot heal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our medical technology does not have a way to restore my vision.” The knowledge still stung, but with his mate and their unborn child safe in his arms, and the Quatarans defeated, he had found a measure of peace.

“Forgive me, I didn’t realize.”

O’kami was silent for a minute, then suddenly burst out. “Why don’t you come to Vulfar?”

“Vulfar?” he asked doubtfully. “I do not believe I would receive a warm welcome, and I suspect my mate will wish to go home.”

“We have one of the finest medical universities in this sector.” The flash of movement that indicated a shrug. “It is the result of the damage we frequently inflict on others of our race in our clash for power.”

“And you think…” He couldn’t continue. Hope choked his throat.

“I don’t know, of course. But my third uncle lost the vision in his right eye after a skirmish with Clan Fuchon and our doctors managed to restore it.”

“I do not know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything tonight. Talk to your mate. Even if they can help, it could take months and, as you said, she may wish to return home in her condition.” O’kami’s hand clasped his shoulder. “But if you do wish to come, I would be honored to have you as my guest, now or at some future date.”

He covered O’kami’s hand with his, too fraught with emotion to speak. Could there actually be a chance to see again? To be able to look at Emlan, at their child—he could ask for nothing more.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Emlan floated between sleep and wakefulness as Tren carried her back to their room. The memory of the afternoon brought a smile to her face as she snuggled closer to his broad chest. Her father had agreed to allow her mother and sisters to come down to the surface shortly after midday.

Neither the Yehrin nor the Vulfar had encountered any resistance from the Quatarans. Despite their devious manipulations, they were a merchant race and they had little in the way of a military. In fact, that had been one of their reasons for requesting Yehrin assistance on the trade routes. The merchants on the Trade Board had been imprisoned and T’lan had already sent an investigative team to Quatar Ten to examine the mine. He had also assigned a team to track down the slave brothel the guards had mentioned, as well as any other indications of a slave trade.

Her mother had been brimming with excitement, and completely unconcerned about the invasion. Instead, she had dragged Emlan to one side and cross questioned her about everything that had occurred since she had been reunited with Tren. She skated over the incident with Harvey as best she could, but her mother knew her too well and with gentle but ruthless persistence dragged the entire story out of her.

“I knew I never liked that man,” she said firmly, if inaccurately. “And what about Tren? How is he handling everything?”

“As best he can,” she said truthfully. “He is—was—very angry about what happened.”

“I can certainly understand that. Poor Tren. He has been through so much.” Her mother leaned closer and took her hand. “But you can help him to heal, sweetie. He needs you so much.”

“I know he does, but I need him too, Mama. I haven’t felt whole from the day he left until we were together again.”

“I know. I’m so happy for both of you.” Her mother’s eyes filled with tears and the two of them exchanged a watery hug.

“Now then,” her mother said briskly. “Is there something else you’re not telling me?”

Despite her best efforts, the betraying color rose to her cheeks as she instinctively placed a hand on her stomach. She had managed to snag a few brief moments with Tren, and they had decided to keep her pregnancy silent until matters on Quatar settled down.

Her mother laughed and shook her head. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll keep your secret for now. You know how your father will react.”

Emlan winced. She did indeed. If he had been overprotective before, he was likely to go entirely too far once he found out she was pregnant—and she didn’t think that Tren would understand that it was because of his love for her, not his lack of faith in her mate.

“Thanks, Mama,” she whispered.

“Are you coming home now? You know we could have a lot of fun shopping for the baby.”

“I’m sure we could. I think we are, but I want to talk to Tren first.”

Her mother nodded and switched the conversation to her worries about Emlan’s sisters instead.

“Just look at them,” she exclaimed.

The twins were at the center of the group of admirers, but they were both quite clearly focused on Okami who looked both amused and intrigued.

“All of these Yehrin warriors, and they are interested in a Vulfar,” her mother grumbled good-naturedly. “Of course, he is an exceptionally fine looking male.”

“What did you say, M’lee?” her father growled. Her mother jumped and gave him an innocent look.

“Nothing important, big guy.”

“Good,” he said sternly. “It is time for dinner.”

He had escorted them both to where Tren was waiting and there was no additional chance for private conversation. The evening had passed in a joyous blur before she found herself falling asleep on Tren’s lap.

Now, as he placed her gently on their bed, she opened her eyes and smiled sleepily up at him. His eyes gleamed silver on his beloved face and she wished he could see the love on hers. She brought his hand to her mouth so that he could feel her smiling at him.

“We’re finally alone again,” she whispered.

“Yes, and I wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk?” she teased, and boldly placed her hand between his legs.

He responded as he always did to her touch, his cock growing thick and hard, and her own body responded. Her nipples tightened and she could feel the damp heat between her legs.

He took in a deep breath. “You are aroused, my L’chka.”

“Always, with you.” She pulled him closer so that she could press small kisses along his jaw. He groaned and impatiently pushed her dress aside to cover her breasts with a big warm hand.

“Oh,” she gasped.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, that feels amazing. I always heard that your breasts are more sensitive when you are pregnant. I guess it’s true.”

“Pregnant,” he said slowly. “I can still scarcely believe it.”

“And you don’t mind, do you?”

“You have made me the happiest male in the galaxy. I am so sorry for what I said, that I made you think for even a second that I would not want our child.”

“Why did you say it? I couldn’t believe that you really meant it.”

He hesitated, unseeing eyes looking into the distance. “Fear,” he said finally. “I was afraid that I would not be able to protect you, to protect our child, with my limited vision.”

“I don’t have the slightest doubt that you will always protect me and protect our daughter. Tren, you saved me—not once, but twice now. How can you forget that?”

“But I could not do it alone.”

“None of us can do everything alone.” The conversation had turned unexpectedly serious and she was glad that they had talked, but right now she didn’t want to talk anymore. She wanted to love her warrior.

Her hand was still resting over his cock and she deliberately squeezed the thick length.

“I think that’s enough talking for right now.”

“But there is something—”

She squeezed more firmly and gave him a long slow stroke. He groaned.

“Later,” she promised. “I need you.”

As if her words unleashed a kraken, he had them both naked in seconds. He started to come down over her, but she protested and urged him on his back instead. She wanted to tease him, to prolong their lovemaking, but she was too impatient. Instead of a teasing exploration down his body, she headed straight for the massive cock already straining towards her. She managed to slow down enough to explore the undulating shaft from wide base to thick head, the small ridges an exciting promise against her tongue. His seed already pearled on the tip when she finally licked across the head of his cock, his taste musky and delicious. He buried his fingers in her hair, urging her on, and she wrapped her mouth around him. Despite the number of times she had done this, she still struggled to take him, her mouth stretching wide around the thick head, but she loved to pleasure him his way, loved to feel him trembling and desperate as his hands urged her on. As she took him deeper, she caressed the heavy weight of his balls, gently squeezing the sensitive flesh until he came with a sudden explosive climax, filling her mouth with heated liquid as she tried to take in every drop.

He had barely finished pulsing into her mouth before he flipped her carefully onto her back and proceeded to subject her to the long teasing, exploration she had planned for him, worshipping every inch of her body before he finally gave in to her pleas and entered her. Even then he took his time, urging her through two more climaxes before he finally let himself lose control and take her with the hard, demanding thrusts she craved.

Afterwards, she rested contentedly in his arms.

“I think pregnant sex is going to be even better than regular sex,” she murmured, then giggled. “I will have to ask Mama what else I can expect.”

“Yes, you should take advantage of having her here.”

“There’s no rush.” She yawned, her eyes drifting shut. “I’ll have all the time in the world to talk to her once we’re back on Earth.”

T’renan forced himself not to react as Emlan drifted off to sleep. She seemed so content, obviously anticipating having her mother at her side during her pregnancy. How could he deny her that? He wanted her to be content and to have a healthy child and that took precedence over everything else. He would talk to O’kami in the morning and explain that he could not go with him now. But perhaps, once the baby was born, the three of them could make the trip.

Emlan sighed a little in her sleep and he pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her small horns. This, this was what mattered. His only regret was that he would not be able to see his daughter being born.

He still did not regret his decision when he awoke the next morning with her body tucked against his. He had one hand gently cradling her stomach, already protective of the tiny life inside her. Her soft buttocks cradled the morning stiffness of his cock, rubbing lusciously against him as she stirred in her sleep. He tried to hold still, tried not to wake her when she needed her rest, but her ass moved in a gentle undulating rhythm that had him rigid with desire. He tried to ease away, but she sighed and wiggled back against him. As he gritted his teeth, trying to hold back, he felt a vibration in her mid-section and realized that she was laughing silently.

“Emlan,” he groaned, and she rolled to face him.

“Sorry,” she giggled. “But you were being all restrained and noble and I couldn’t help myself.”

“I was trying to let you rest.”

“Well, if that’s what you want, I could move away…”

“Oh, no, you will not. I am not through with you yet,” he growled, and lowered his head. Just as his lips touched hers, the door alarm chimed.

“We could just ignore it,” she suggested, but it rang a second time as she was talking. “Or perhaps not.”

“I will take care of it. You stay here and wait for me.”

Emlan rolled over, pulling up the sheet as Tren yanked on a pair of pants. He had a remarkably enticing backside, she thought lazily, already eager for him to return.

With Budra at his side, he went to the door, blocking it with his big body as he answered.

“Good morning,” she heard Okami say cheerfully. “I do not wish to press you, but it appears that I will be returning to Vulfar sooner than I had expected.”

“Is something wrong?”

“That would depend on how you define wrong. This little incident means that I will have to do something that I have been avoiding since we escaped. But I came to ask if you will be joining us.”

“No, I am afraid not. Emlan is with child and she wishes to be with her female parent during this time.” Tren hesitated, and she saw his hand clinch on the doorframe. “But perhaps we may visit you at a later time?”

“Of course, my friend. I will even ask the doctors to begin their studies.”

Studies? Doctors? A wild hope grew in her heart and she jumped out of bed, wrapping the sheet hastily around herself as she darted to the door.

“Doctors? What are you going to ask the doctors to study?”

“It is not important, Emlan,” Tren said quickly.

“Okami, what doesn’t he want to tell me?”

The Vulfar looked at her face then at Tren, then shrugged.

“Apparently, he doesn’t want me to tell you that I have invited him to come to Vulfar so that the doctors in our medical university can determine whether or not they can restore his sight.”

“Restore his sight?” she whispered. “Oh, Tren. Of course, we have to go.”

“He said it could take months. You do not want to have your baby in a strange place. You want to be home with your family.”

She stomped her foot. “Stop telling me what I want. What I want is for you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Emlan. As long as I have you.”

“Don’t you understand that I feel the same way? You are my family.”

“But I cannot provide you with the advice that your mother could provide.”

“I’m sure I can still communicate with her. Right, Okami?”

The Vulfar had been curiously silent while they talked, but now his usual grin resurfaced, and he nodded.

“We are not as primitive as the Yehrin seem to assume.”

“There, you see.” She could still see the doubt on Tren’s face, and her hearts melted. He was willing to put off the thing he wanted most in order to make her happy. “Tren, I know you want to make me happy but believe me nothing will bring me greater joy than for you to have your vision restored.”

“Please understand that I cannot guarantee that the effort will be successful,” Okami said solemnly.

“I understand,” she said. “But Tren, you want to try, don’t you?”

He hesitated, and for a moment she was afraid that he would continue to deny the desire that she could read all too clearly, but in the end, he nodded. “Yes, I want to try.”

He stroked his fingers along her face. “I would give anything to be able to see your face again and to see the face of our daughter.”

“Then it’s decided.” She turned back to Okami who had that strange expression on his face once more. “When do we leave?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“That’s the third time you’ve looked at the clock in the past hour,” Shemai said with a laugh. Shemai was the youngest of Okami’s three older sisters. Since she taught at the medical university and had a small house on campus, Okami had arranged for Emlan and Tren to stay in her guest house. An attractive Vulfar with soft brown fur and Okami’s shockingly bright blue eyes, she and Emlan had become close friends over the past four months.

“I’m sorry,” Emlan said. “I’m just anxious.”

Normally, she enjoyed spending time with her friend in her quiet, sunny sitting room, but today was the day the doctors would decide if they were ready to schedule the surgery. Although she accompanied Tren to his appointments, it had snowed heavily overnight and the pathways were treacherous. Unfortunately, her balance was not as good as it had been, and she had occasional dizzy spells—neither of which mixed well with icy surfaces. She placed a rueful hand on the swollen mound of her stomach. On the whole, she’d had an easy pregnancy, but with less than a month to go, she felt huge and ungainly, not to mention exhausted. Her doctor had recommended that she take things easy and Tren had insisted that she stay home today.

“I’m sure that they are going to proceed,” Shemai said reassuringly.

Over the past four months, Tren had undergone numerous tests as the doctors debated the best way to assist him. His optic nerves had been irreparably damaged, and in the end, they had decided that growing new nerves would be the best option. They were using samples of his tissues in the process, hoping to lessen the chance of rejection, but it was still going to be a delicate and risky operation and they did not want to proceed until they were confident that they had the best chance of success.

Shemai patted her hand reassuringly and returned to the former topic of conversation—her brother. Like most older sisters, she spent a lot of time worrying about her younger brother.

“I just don’t understand why he doesn’t insist on Nisani bringing him to the council meetings.” Nisani was Okami’s older brother. He had supported Okami during the confrontation with the Quatarans, but it had become clear over the past few months that they had somewhat tumultuous relationship. Nisani had a tendency to treat Okami as if he was still a child. And from what Emlan could see, Okami played right into his expectations by acting like a spoiled younger brother instead of the leader his brother wanted to see.

The Vulfar government consisted of a ruling clan and twelve minor clans that formed a type of advisory council—when they weren’t fighting with each other. Okami’s father was the titular head of the ruling clan, but he was in poor health and most of his responsibilities fell to Nisani. Emlan had met the big warrior a few times and quite liked the gruff, quiet male. The pressure of his leadership clearly weighed heavily on his brow, but he always treated her with exquisite courtesy.

“It’s always difficult when it’s family,” she said gently. “I know my sisters are grown women, but I still think of them as my baby sisters.”

“I know,” Shemai admitted. “To a certain extent, Okami will always be a cub to me but Nisani has seen him in battle, seen how he handled that unfortunate situation on Quatar. Surely he should know better.”

“It probably didn’t help matters that he rode his umat up the steps of the council building last week,” Emlan said dryly. Images of Okami astride the huge, horned beast had been everywhere.

Shemai laughed. “I’m sure you’re right, but he was frustrated because Nisani shut him out the negotiations with Brelan again.”

The other woman relapsed into moody silence as she considered her brothers, and Emlan glanced back to the clock once more. Tren had promised to return by mid-afternoon and it was now close to sunset. She knew that the medical appointments often ran long, but she couldn’t help worrying. It didn’t help matters that T’gaira had left a week ago for a visit to Eccalia. His pragmatic nature had done much to keep both her and Tren calm through the long months of testing.

Of course, Budra had accompanied Tren to his appointment as usual, and even without the crileth’s assistance, Tren was quite capable of retracing the path he had memorized. Still…

“Maybe I’ll just walk towards the lab and meet him on his way home,” she suggested.

“You will do no such thing,” Shemai said firmly. “That brief thaw we had yesterday has only made everything icy beneath the snow.”

Emlan shivered. Even growing up in the mountains with heavy snow falls each winter, she was not used to Vulfar-type cold. The winter temperatures were often below freezing and while the Vulfar with their thick coats did not seem bothered, she had to bundle herself in multiple layers every time she left the building. Now that he had recovered his strength, Tren also was not bothered by the cold and she wished that was one Yehrin trait that she had inherited. She would gladly trade her horns or her double hearts for the ability to withstand the cold.

“I suppose you’re right,” she sighed.

Shemai tilted her head, her ears pricking.

“And you do not have to wait any longer. That sounds like him now.”

A moment later, Tren appeared in the doorway of the sitting room, his big masculine body at odds with the gentle femininity of the room, and the contrast sent a pulse of excitement straight to her clit. One of the side effects of her pregnancy—once she was past the initial illness—was an overwhelming and constant desire for her mate. Tren never disappointed her.

She started to struggle up from the couch to meet him, but before she could get her legs under her, he lifted her carefully to her feet. Budra butted her big head against Emlan’s hips affectionately, then started to patrol the room, checking for any scraps that might have escaped her notice previously.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Dr. L’yoshi has decided to proceed,” he said solemnly, but she could see the smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s wonderful!” She grabbed his horns and tugged him down for a kiss that rapidly turned passionate as he pulled her closer.

Shemai cleared her throat, and Emlan’s cheeks turned pink as she stepped back.

“I’m sorry. I was just so excited.”

“You should be. This will be groundbreaking surgery,” Shemai said.

A little of Emlan’s excitement faded—it was groundbreaking because it had never been tried before. The doctors had warned them that if they were not successful, then Tren would lose what little sight remained to him. She knew how much he had grown to depend on even the limited amount that he could see and dreaded the thought that he might spend the rest of his life in total blackness. They had discussed it at length, but in the end, he had decided to take the chance.

“I want to see you, Emlan,” he had said quietly. “But even more than that, I want to see our daughter. I at least have my memories of you—I will have none of her.”

Despite the lump in her throat, she had managed to nod and smile.

“And what kind of a Yehrin warrior would I be if I shrank from danger?” he had teased gently, trying to make her smile.

“You are already my warrior. Nothing will ever change that.”

He had kissed her in response and the kiss had rapidly led to the lovemaking that was growing more urgent as the date approached.

Now, she managed to keep a smile on her face. “When?”

“Tomorrow. I am to eat nothing for the rest of the day in preparation.”

“Tomorrow?” Her smile definitely faltered now as the reality of the surgery swept over her. She had thought they would have longer, that T’gaira would have returned.

“I expect it is because the viability of the specimen is at the optimum point for insertion.” Although she no longer practiced, Shemai was keenly aware of the latest medical developments.

“That is correct.” Tren nodded. “Sh’mai, will you be able to host my L’chka again tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?” Emlan frowned up at him. “I am going to be at the hospital with you.”

“There is no need. The operation will take many hours and you might as well stay here and be comfortable.”

“I won’t be comfortable. And if you think for one second that I am going to remain here during your surgery, you are completely wrong.”

“But the weather…”

“I will bring her in my vehicle,” Shemai promised. “I rarely drive since everything on campus is so close, but I assure you that I am a capable driver. And used to driving in these conditions,” she added as Tren opened his mouth again.

“Thank you, Sh’mai.” Tren conceded the argument and turned to her. “Shall we adjourn to our residence? I find that I am hungry.”

“But you said you can’t eat,” she protested as he swept her up in his arms.

“That is not what I am hungry for,” he growled in her ear, sending a shiver of excitement straight to her aching clit.

Shemai laughed. “I will collect you both at daybreak. I would tell you to get some sleep, Tren, but I suspect that is not your primary goal.”

He grinned at the Vulfar, already on his way out of the room. Budra fell in behind them—Tren did not need her assistance here where he was familiar with every inch of both dwellings.

Silently, he carried her across the garden that separated the two buildings. His claws dug into the ice-covered snow with a firm grip and he never faltered. Once inside, he didn’t pause before carrying her up the stairs to the small loft bedroom. While the room was small, the bed was more than large enough. He placed her carefully in the center and stepped back to look at her.

Returning his gaze, her pulse raced with excitement. No matter how well she knew and loved him, when he loomed over her with that hungry expression, it called to a deep-seated instinct to run and hide from a predator. Instead, she lay quivering with excitement as he pounced. He was, as always, exquisitely careful of her pregnancy as he ripped away her clothes and turned her over onto her hands and knees.

Big warm hands traced down her back to cup her buttocks and tease at the crevice between them. “I cannot wait until I can see you like this,” he growled. “Your beautiful back, your luscious ass, your swollen cunt.” With the last word, he plunged a thick finger deep inside her soaking channel and she shuddered, already on the verge of climax.

“So hot for me, so tight,” he praised as he added another finger and stroked in and out. She tried to arch back into his hand, but he easily held her in place while he worked her body, bringing her ever closer to that elusive peak. He removed his fingers and she shuddered again, already anticipating his next destination. A moment later, the thick digit probed at her bottom hole. As always, she tightened instinctively before she remembered to breathe and relax the tight ring of muscle. His fingers slipped inside with a fiery stretch that made her swollen clit throb with desire.

“I want to see this as well, your tight little ass opening for me.” He increased his pace as his other hand began working her clit. “You belong to me, Emlan. All of you.”

This position always brought out his dominant side and she responded just as instinctively.

“Yes, Tren. Every part of me belongs to you.”

Growling, he adjusted his position so that the broad head of his cock found her soaked entrance. With his fingers still stretching her back channel, he plunged inside of her in one long demanding stroke. The shocking fullness, the almost overwhelming stretch, and the fiery heat from her stretched bottom sent her soaring into a sudden powerful climax. As her body tightened around him, he thrust wildly, locking her in place so all she could do was give in to the pleasure of his demanding strokes until at last she felt the hot wash of his seed filling her.

Afterwards, they laid in breathless silence until he sighed and gently withdrew. He went to fetch a cleansing cloth as Budra jumped up on the bed and nuzzled her head into Emlan’s neck.

“I assume that someone has taken my place,” Tren said dryly as he returned.

“Of course,” she laughed. The crileth never remained on the bed while they were making love, but as soon as they were done, she would jump up and snuggle next to Emlan until Tren sent her to the foot of the bed.

As soon as he finished cleansing her, he shooed Budra away and drew Emlan into his arms. His body was relaxed and he did not show any signs of tension, but now that they were silent, horrible scenarios began to float through her mind.

“Stop that,” he said firmly, and she jumped.

“I was just thinking.”

“Do not.”

She huffed. “You can’t just tell a woman to stop thinking.”

“Perhaps not,” he conceded. “But there are other ways to keep your mind occupied. I think it is time for a feast.”

“You know you can’t eat anything.”

“That is not what tempts my appetite.” He kissed his way down her body before parting her legs. “This is what tempts me.”

Budra jumped off the bed with a disgusted growl as Tren swept his wonderfully rough tongue the length of her slit and her worries departed in a swirl of pleasure.

T’renan did his best to wear out his concerned mate and she eventually slipped into a restful sleep. He kept his arms around her as he stared off into the surrounding darkness. Was this what he would have to look forward to the rest of his life? Dr. L’yoshi had been quite blunt today. There was only a fifty percent chance that the operation would succeed. He had suspected as much based on their prior conversations over the past months and that was one reason he had not wanted Emlan to accompany him today. He also knew that there was a very slim chance that he would not survive the operation, although that, too, he had very carefully kept from his mate. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he could not stand the thought of her waiting in terror while the operation was performed. Was it worth it? he wondered again and then he felt their baby moving against his stomach. He cupped the firm bulge as their daughter danced beneath his fingers. Yes, it was worth it. It was worth any risk to be able to see his child.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Emlan paced the waiting room floor until her aching feet forced her to sit. As Tren had predicted, it had been a long tiresome day. After their early arrival, the first few hours were devoted to preparation. When Dr. Lyoshi finally wheeled Tren away, her nerves were already on edge. Shemai did her best to keep her calm, and over the course of the day, Okami and the rest of his family came to join them. Even Nisani appeared briefly to solemnly give her his best wishes. When he rushed away to another one of his constant duties, Okami glared after him.

“He wouldn’t have to be in such a gods damned hurry if he was willing to share any of his responsibilities.”

“What happened now?” Shemai asked.

“I offered to take over the ceremonial visits.”

“That would be perfect,” Shemai said. “You accompanied our father since you were young, and you can be very charming when you want to be. And we both know he hates them.”

“Apparently he doesn’t hate them enough to want me to handle them for him.” Okami scowled, his tail lashing angrily as he paced the waiting room.

“He is still annoyed about your stunt with your umat. You shouldn’t have done that.” Sanshi, his oldest sister, shook her head.

“I was bored. Why does he insist on keeping me here if he will not allow me to participate?”

“You know what you need?” Anai, the middle sister, asked thoughtfully.

“No, and I’m fairly certain that I don’t want to hear your suggestion.”

“You need a mate,” Anai continued regardless. “It would convince him that you have matured and are ready to assume responsibility.”

A flash of longing crossed his face so quickly that Emlan was not sure if anyone else had seen it. He immediately replaced it with a derisive look as he scoffed openly.

“I’m not that mature. I have no desire to be tied down.” He shot an apologetic glance at Emlan. “Sorry, Emlan. I’m sure that I would feel differently if there were more females like you, instead of bitches like Hying.”

“I warned you about her,” Sanshi pointed out.

For a moment, Emlan thought that he would grow angry, but instead he shook his head and gave his sister his usual charming grin. “And you were quite right. I will make sure to run all of my future prospects by you.”

They all laughed, and the conversation turned to more general matters. By the time night fell, Sanshi and Anai had been forced to leave to attend to their families and only Okami and Shemai remained. Emlan was a frazzled bundle of nerves and Budra stayed pressed against her side, offering what comfort she could.

“Perhaps I should go check on the status?” Shemai suggested. Periodically throughout the day, she had disappeared through the double doors leading to the surgical area, but each time she had returned only to say that the operation was proceeding as expected.

“If they don’t tell us something soon, I’ll go back there,” Okami said grimly. “And I’m pretty sure that’s not a good idea.”

Even as he finished speaking, the doors opened, and Dr. Lyoshi appeared. The look of exhaustion on his face made Emlan’s hearts plummet.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

Dr. Lyoshi shook his head and gave her a tired smile. “The operation went as well as could be expected. I believe that the graft will be successful, but all we can do for now is wait.”

“Can I go see him?” Her question sounded faint in her own ears as overwhelming relief rushed over her and she suddenly felt dizzy. Before the doctor could respond, the room started to spin, and she felt Okami catch her as the world went black.

When Emlan regained consciousness, she was no longer in the waiting room. Instead she was lying on a hospital bed with monitors and machines beeping all around her. Okami and Shemai were leaning over her, concerned expressions on their faces. Her stomach ached and she automatically put a hand to it, only to discover that it was no longer round with her child.

“The baby! What happened to my baby?” She started to struggle frantically against the equipment and Okami gently restrained her while Shemai grabbed her hand. Budra growled, alarmed by her frantic movements.

“Calm down, Emlan,” Shemai said soothingly. “You’re fine. Your cub is fine.”

“I don’t understand. What happened?”

The other woman frowned. “Your blood pressure dropped to almost nothing. The strain of waiting must have been too much for you and the doctors decided that it would be dangerous to both you and your cub if they did not operate.”

“But she’s all right? You said she was all right.” Her mind felt fuzzy and distant, but she concentrated on that one thought.

“Yes, I promise you she’s just fine. But because she was early, they put her in an incubator until you woke up.”

“Tren?” Another thought made it through the confusion. “How is he?”

They exchanged a look over her head, before Okami spoke soothingly. “He’s just fine.”

Even in her confused state, she recognized his lack of sincerity.

“No, he’s not! What aren’t you telling me?”

Shemai glared at Okami and patted her hand. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. He has not yet come out of the anesthesia, but that is quite common under the circumstances with such an extended operation.”

Tears started to drip down her cheeks. “I want to see him. And I want my baby.”

“And you shall see him. But what if we bring the cub first so that she can feed?”

At her words, Emlan realized that her breasts were swollen and painful.

“Perhaps by then, Tren will have woken up,” Shemai continued. “But even if he hasn’t, I promise I will take you to see him.”

Emlan reluctantly assented, and Shemai went to arrange for the baby to visit. Okami remained behind, pacing as his tail lashed back and forth. Budra matched his steps, eyeing his tail.

“The last thing I remember when I fainted was that you caught me,” she said quietly as her mind began to clear. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He managed a shadow of his usual charming grin. “I could not let my friend’s mate end up on the floor, could I? Most undignified.”

“It probably wouldn’t have been my finest moment,” she agreed.

Okami seemed to regain his usual composure and came to sit down by the bed. He described in humorous detail everyone’s reactions to her faint and the sudden swarm of nurses and doctors appearing.

“But you said that my baby is all right?” she asked again.

“Yes, Emlan. Shemai says that she is perfect.”

This time she saw only sincerity on his face, and she gave a relieved sigh. A moment later Shemai entered, a tiny bundle cradled in her arms, while a nurse hovered anxiously behind her. The nurse raised the bed so that she was sitting upright and Shemai stepped forward.

“Emlan,” Shemai said softly as she placed the baby in her arms. “Meet your daughter.”

Overcome with happiness, she pulled the blanket back to reveal the small perfect face of her baby. Her eyes filled with tears.

“She’s kind of small,” Okami said doubtfully, and Shemai cuffed him.

“She’s perfect, you idiot.”

“Yes, she is,” Emlan agreed as she pulled back more of the blanket to count the tiny little fingers and toes.

“She doesn’t have any horns,” Okami added before Shemai smacked him again.

No, she didn’t, but it was obvious that she would never pass as human. Her skin was a pale creamy grey and when she blinked and opened her eyes, they were blue Yehrin eyes, the same color that Tren’s had been originally. She had a few wispy black curls and tiny perfect little black nails. Her heart overflowing with love, Emlan was determined to make sure that her daughter never doubted where she belonged.

Those wide blue eyes tried to focus on her face, then her daughter grunted and began rooting at her breast.

“Are you hungry, sweetheart?”

She opened her gown and after a few frustratingly futile efforts, the baby finally latched on with surprising force. She looked up to find Shemai smiling at her, while Okami looked positively fascinated.

With the baby feeding, her thoughts turned immediately back to her mate.

“Is Tren awake?”

“No, not yet.”

“I want to see him. Even if he isn’t conscious, he deserves to know he has a daughter.”

Shemai nodded and pulled Okami aside. By the time the baby had finished nursing with a delicate little belch, a wheelchair was waiting for Emlan. A nurse rearranged her IV and then Okami carefully lifted her into the chair while she cradled the baby against her chest. They walked her slowly down the hall and up two levels to the experimental surgery ward, with Budra pacing behind them. No one suggested that the crileth shouldn’t accompany them, although several people eyed her nervously.

Only a faint dim light shone in Tren’s room, but it was enough for her to see her massive warrior lying completely still. Even with his head wrapped in bandages, she would have known him anywhere. Okami pushed the chair over to the bed, close enough that she could take one of Tren’s hands in hers. As always, as soon as she touched him, she felt whole again.

“I want to stay here.”

Shemai nodded. “I suspected as much. Between my association with the university and Okami’s influence, we have arranged for you to remain. They will bring in another bed.”

Emlan nodded and her hand tightened over Tren’s. He would wake up. He would see their daughter. She couldn’t accept anything less.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A baby cried. The faint wail reached T’renan somewhere in the darkness. The baby. Was it his baby? And Emlan… where was she?

He tried desperately to open his eyes, but all he could see was darkness. The operation had failed, but right now it seemed less important than the crying child. He tried to lift his hand, but it felt weighted, barely capable of moving.

The crying stopped abruptly, and he almost panicked. But then he heard Emlan’s sweet voice and felt the soft weight of her body against his side.

“There you go, my poor hungry little girl.” He heard a faint sucking sound. “You can’t make that much noise; you’ll disturb your daddy.” Then Emlan sighed, and he heard the threat of tears in her voice. “Although I suppose I would be grateful if you did wake him up. Three days, little one, and you have still not been able to meet him.”

Meet him? How could his daughter be born already? How long had he been unconscious?

He tried to speak, but his mouth was parched, and he couldn’t make a sound. He swallowed desperately and the second time he managed a hoarse grunt.

“That was the big noise for a little baby,” Emlan cooed, then her body froze against his side. He felt her small fingers touch his face. “Tren? Tren, was that you?”

One overwhelming concern managed to make itself heard. “Baby,” he rasped.

Wet drops touched his face.

“Yes, my love. Our baby. Here…”

She grasped his hand and held his finger against the softest, most delicate skin he had ever touched. “This is our daughter.”

Tears stung his eyes, but he welcomed the pain. Even if he never saw her, the knowledge that they had created this precious new life would content him forever.

“Love. Love you,” he managed this time.

“And I love you too.” More wet drops, and then he felt her soft lips kissing him frantically until a muffled grunt interrupted. She laughed shakily and pulled away.

“Your daughter is very demanding. She does not like to have her meals interrupted.”

He felt her stand up and wanted to protest but she returned almost immediately to press her soft warmth back against his side.

“I just sent for the doctor. Everyone has been waiting for you to wake up.”

“How long?”

“Three days. The three longest days of my life. If it hadn’t been for our daughter, I don’t know how I would have made it.”

“How, baby?”

“I think she was just ready to meet you,” Emlan said quickly, but he had known her too long and too well to be fooled.

“Tell me truth.”

She sighed. “The operation was… difficult for me and when we finally heard that you were all right, my blood pressure dropped. They had to operate. But I am just fine, and she is perfect,” she added hastily.

“Perfect,” he agreed.

She brought her hand back up so that he could feel their daughter’s cheek as she nursed eagerly from Emlan’s soft breast. He could easily imagine the sight and his cock jerked at the thought. Emlan jumped.

“Tren, are you seriously getting an erection the minute you regain consciousness?”

He tried to shrug and to his delight his shoulders responded slightly. “Always want you.”

“And I want you too, but I think you’re going to have to wait a little longer.”

The amusement in her voice comforted him more than anything else she had said. If she could smile and anticipate their time together, then she was truly fine. Of course, he was disappointed that the operation had failed, but his blessings far outweighed his sorrows. He sent a prayer of thanks to the Ancestors as he lifted his hand to trace her features and see her beloved face in the only way he could. She nestled her face into his palm, and they sat in contented silence, the only sound the baby’s small grunts.

A few minutes later, he recognized Dr. L’yoshi’s scent before the male spoke.

“You’re awake. Good, good. Afraid we had to keep you under longer than we originally planned but the operation went very well. Very well indeed.”

He bit back a snort. The fact that he had lived through it was definitely a plus, but without his sight, he would hardly call it a success.

“So, what do you say? Are you ready to get those bandages removed?”

Bandages? He managed to lift his hand to his face and for the first time realized that his eyes were covered.

“Can I see?” he demanded hoarsely.

“We won’t know until I remove the bandages, but I have high hopes. Very high hopes.” The doctor paused. “Perhaps your mate would prefer to leave?”

“No.” They both said simultaneously. If he could see, the first thing he wanted to see was Emlan’s face. If he could not, he would need her by his side to remind him of what truly mattered.

“Very well.” The doctor probed delicately at the bandages covering his eyes. “Now, close your eyes. They will be very sensitive, and you will need to be careful to begin with not to expose them to bright light.”

A few more movements, and then he felt the brush of air across his closed lids. He kept his eyes firmly closed as the doctor wiped some type of gel over them.

“Now open them. Very slowly.”

For a moment longer, he hesitated. This was the moment when he would know if he would ever see his daughter’s face. Fear that he had never known even in the fiercest battle filled him and he felt his hands shake. But then Emlan placed her hand over his and he heard their baby coo and he very carefully opened his eyes.

At first, all he saw was a blur of grey and his heart sank, but then he heard Emlan gasp and he realized she was to one side of him. He turned his head and for an instant all he could see was a white blur, but then her features swam into view as his vision cleared. He could see her. He could see his L’chka. His vision blurred again as more tears filled his eyes, but Emlan was laughing and crying.

“You saw me, didn’t you? I saw you focus on my face.”

He blinked rapidly, and there she was—still as beautiful as he remembered. He searched her face hungrily, seeking every detail, every tiny change that had occurred since the last time that he had seen her. The scar on her horns made him frown briefly, but he was too happy to dwell on the injury. His gaze traveled down over her face, her delicate neck, the body he had seen so well with his fingertips, her luscious breasts and there, looking back at him with wide blue eyes, was their daughter.

“Hello, little one,” he said softly. “I am delighted to meet you.”

He could swear that she smiled at him and he grinned in delight. “Did you see that? She smiled at me. She knows who I am.”

“Of course, she knows who you are,” Emlan said through her tears. “She has spent her whole life in this room with you.”

He managed to drag his eyes away from her face for a moment and he could see—he could see—the bed adjourning his, the small crib, even some tiny pink outfits. But in the end, nothing delighted him as much as looking at the two people he loved.

“I need to do some tests,” Dr. L’yoshi said.

“Are they critical?” he asked, not looking away from Emlan.

“Why, no. No, I suppose not.”

“Then they can wait,” he growled.

The doctor looked at him, then laughed. “Very well. I will return in a few hours. In the meantime, do not turn up the lights or open the window blinds or leave this room. Do you understand?”

He nodded his head impatiently. He had no need to leave or to look elsewhere. Everything he had ever wanted to see was before him now.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

T’renan watched as their baby nursed hungrily. Despite her early arrival, she had rapidly put on weight over the past month and now had the round curves of a healthy baby. Emlan gently worked her mouth loose to move her to her other breast and his gaze caught on her distended nipple, a drop of milk clinging to the taut peak. His cock jerked but he tried to force it down. She was still recovering from the birth and he should not be thinking of how much he wanted his mate.

This month had been an exercise in patience. To have her so close, to be able to see all of those details he had felt with his hands—the pale, swollen weight of her breasts, the lush ripeness of her tempting ass, the gentle curve of her waist, the succulent pink of her lips—he had suffered from an almost constant erection since they had returned to the small guest house. And it wasn’t just her physical beauty. When he saw her rocking their daughter to sleep, singing to her, nurturing her with her body, he found that just as erotic.

She had tried several times to ease his discomfort, but he was too aware of the strain of taking care of a newborn and the toll of the interrupted nights to allow her to do anything but rest when she was not taking care of their daughter. He helped as much as he could, but he could not provide the nourishment their daughter needed.

Her hunger sated, the baby’s suckling gradually slowed to a few lazy pulls. Emlan worked her free, laughing when she immediately tried to start sucking again.

“No, you don’t, greedy girl. You know you were finished.”

He quickly averted his glance from his mate, bare-breasted and stunningly tempting, and reached for their daughter. Budra sat by the door, watching the exchange anxiously. He sometimes suspected that the crileth thought the baby really belonged to her.

“I will change her and put her down. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“I’m not feeling very sleepy,” she said in a husky voice, and he looked over to find her lying back against the pillows, her breasts still bare and tempting.

He did his best to suppress his groan, his shaft pressing so demandingly against his pants that he thought the fabric would tear.

“You know you have to take care of yourself,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Yes, I do,” she agreed, but the sultry tone was still there. “Why don’t you put Pearl in that new outfit Shemai gave her?”

They had called the baby Pearl after Emlan’s grandmother and he couldn’t think of a better way to honor her memory.

“You are sure?” he asked, cradling the baby against his shoulder, soft and warm and sweet-smelling.

“Yes, I want her properly dressed for her first excursion.”

“Excursion? What excursion?” he asked, his gazing flying back to her. Pearl was much too young to go anywhere.

“T’gaira and Shemai are going to take care of her for an hour,” she said firmly.

“But—”

“Tren, she is only going to be at the main house, and you know they are quite capable of looking after her.”

He fought down his instinctive protest. It was true that Shemai frequently spent time with them and that T’gaira had proven surprisingly adept with the baby since he returned. But she was so small…

“What if she gets hungry?”

Emlan laughed. “You know that she’s up to four hours between feedings. She can last an hour.”

“But why?”

“Because I want to spend an hour alone with my mate.”

His cock jerked again but he ruthlessly suppressed it. No matter how much he wanted her, she needed time to heal.

“Are you sure that is a good idea?”

“You know I had Shemai examine me this afternoon? She said I can resume normal activities whenever I want. And I want.”

His body froze, desire washing over him so quickly he was almost dizzy.

“Now go put Pearl in her new outfit, give her to T’gaira, and hurry back.”

Despite his urgency, he still hesitated to give T’gaira his precious burden. He issued so many instructions and warnings that the older warrior finally just reached over and took Pearl. Only his concern for her stopped him from snatching her back.

“Stop that, boy. Little P’rrl will be just fine with us.”

“I can be there in thirty seconds if you need us.”

“We will not.” T’gaira scowled at him. “Should be more concerned about what your mate needs.”

Covering Pearl carefully with her blankets, T’gaira carried her out the door and over the short distance to Shemai’s house, Budra pacing at his side. T’renan watched them the entire way, but as soon as the door closed behind T’gaira, he headed for the stairs.

When he entered the bedroom, he found Emlan waiting for him, completely naked now. He eagerly devoured the sight of her body, lush now from childbirth and almost unbearably tempting.

“Are you just going to stand there?” she asked, with a teasing smile.

He slowly approached the bed, reminding himself that he could not pounce on her like a starving animal.

“Are you sure about this, my L’chka?” he forced himself to ask.

“Tren, I had a baby not a fatal illness,” she huffed. “Of course, if you want me to just take care of myself…”

She raised a finger and circled a taut peak, still pink and swollen from nursing, and his control snapped. He ripped his clothes away and knelt down over her, holding her wrists together with one hand as he lifted the heavy weight of her breast with the other. His mouth descended over the tempting peak and he groaned as a drop of milk met his tongue. He sucked hard as more of the delicious liquid filled his mouth and she arched her back, straining against his hand.

“That feels so good,” she said, urging him on.

Still restraining her wrists, he switched from one breast to the other until both glistening peaks were dark red, and the scent of her arousal made his head swim with desire. His hand traveled down over her body in the path that had become so familiar when the only way he could see her was with his hands. But now he could actually see the scattering of tiny freckles across her stomach, the silky blonde curls between her legs, the deep glistening pink of her delectable cunt.

“You are so beautiful, my love,” he whispered, watching in awe as his fingers parted the delicate flesh. They looked so big as he circled the small entrance, then pressed slowly inside. They both groaned as he slowly stretched the tight channel. His cock throbbed against the sheet, aching with the need to be inside her, but he was determined to take his time. His L’chka had other ideas.

“Tren, please,” she said, pulling against the hand still manacling her wrists. “It’s been so long. I need you.”

“I do not want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Just hurry. Please.”

He could not resist. Lifting her hips up, he notched the head of his cock at the tiny entrance which looked much too small to take him and slowly, carefully, pushed inside, watching her stretch open around him until he was buried to the root in the silken fist of her cunt. He circled the place where they joined, loving the fact that he could see every detail, then looked down her body, stretched out before him the way he had imagined so many times, to her eyes, Yehrin green eyes that watched him with so much love that heat rushed over his body and then he was coming in long helpless shudders of pleasure. He never took his gaze off of her.

When his body finally stopped shuddering, she smiled up at him, a soft, sultry smile that had him hardening again immediately.

“It appears you needed this, too.”

“Always,” he said, and proceeded to show her just how much he always would.

Emlan dozed happily as Tren went to get their daughter. It had been wonderful to have the time alone with him, but they were both ready to have their daughter back.

When he returned a few minutes later, Pearl’s tiny body tucked carefully against his massive one, her hearts melted with love. They looked so perfect together. He gently unwrapped the blankets and brought Pearl over to the bed, tucking her between them. Budra had followed him in and now she settled across the foot of the bed, the three of them surrounding the baby with safety and warmth.

Pearl opened her eyes and gave Emlan her toothless grin.

“Hello, sweetheart. Did you miss your mama?”

She cooed and kicked her tiny feet.

“I think that is a yes,” Tren agreed. He cupped the baby’s head, stroking the soft black curls. “Are you happy that she has no horns, my L’chka? I know how often you hated yours.”

“I didn’t hate them as much as I hated being different.” She no longer felt that way. Sometime over the past six months, her feeling of being an outsider had disappeared and she had settled into her own skin at long last.

He looked over at her, his eyes still gleaming silver despite the operation. “She will be different as well.”

“I know, but she will have many friends and relatives that are also different.” A sudden fierce wave of homesickness filled her. She wanted to see those familiar faces, to have her mother spoil Pearl and her father go overboard in his desire to protect her.

As always, Tren picked up on her thoughts. “I think perhaps it is time to return to Earth.”

“Yes, my warrior. Let’s go home.”

Home to a future that stretched happily in front of them.

Epilogue

One month later

“I don’t remember the last time we had everyone together like this,” Lizabet said.

They were all gathered in Emlan’s childhood home in New Haven, still a place that filled her hearts with happiness. The house was bursting at the seams with people—her parents and their friends, the people she’s grown up with, and even a second generation of children with a mix of human and Yehrin heritage. Her gaze traveled from her daughter, asleep against Tren’s shoulder, to Rachel and Sarah’s grandchildren, toddling around the kitchen table. She gave Lizabet a rueful smile.

“I do. It was my birthday.”

Her birthday—the day that everyone thought that Tren had been killed. She shivered, the memory hurting even now. As if he felt her pain, Tren looked up from across the room and met her eyes. The ache melted away, replaced by happiness. Budra, equally sensitive to her emotions, nudged her hip and she reached down to scratch at the base of her head spikes.

“I’m sorry,” Lizabet apologized as she rocked her new son. “It seems so long ago. The twins were so young.” She shook her head at her sons, already at seventeen close to their full height, as they followed their younger sister around, scowling at any male who approached her. “They were protective then. I should have known it would only get worse. Poor Katie is never going to stand a chance of dating until they go off to college.”

“She still has to get by her dads,” Emlan pointed out with a laugh. T’kol and Hisst might not be as obvious as the twins but they still kept a close eye on their daughter.

“Overprotective Yehrin dads do come with the territory,” Lizabet agreed. “T’chok still thinks of me as his little girl. Speaking of which, why is your dad frowning at your sisters?”

“Because they both announced that they want to go to medical school. On Vulfar.”

They had chosen to make the announcement while she and Tren were present, so she had witnessed the entire scene. Her father had firmly forbidden it, her mother had burst into tears, and the twins had stormed off.

“You’re kidding. Why?”

“They say it’s because they were so impressed by Tren’s surgery…” she said slowly.

“But?”

“I suspect it may have more to do with a certain Vulfar chief.”

“Okami? Really? I mean he is a very nice looking male—”

T’kol growled as he came up behind her.

“You should not be noticing other males, my jewel.”

“What if I decided to expand my brace?” Lizabet teased.

He responded by grabbing her and, carefully avoiding the baby, kissing her until she melted against him.

“You will not,” he said when he finally raised his head.

Lizabet grinned up at him, her cheeks glowing. “I suppose not.”

Emlan laughed, but she couldn’t help giving her sisters a worried look. Usually they were the life of the party, but tonight they were huddled in a corner whispering and she suspected that they were plotting. At least her father had his eye on them.

“You are looking very solemn, my L’chka.” Tren appeared next to her and drew her close. She melted against him as easily as Lizabet had succumbed to T’kol.

“Just thinking.”

“Well, do not. This is a celebration.” He looked around until he found T’gaira and T’gana swapping war stories. “Wait here.”

Walking over to the older warrior, he carefully handed the sleeping baby to him. A smile twisted T’gaira’s lips as he took Pearl with equal care, cradling her in his arms. Budra settled down at his side, her eyes on the baby.

“Come, my L’chka.” Tren led her outside to where a bonfire blazed despite the warmth of a summer evening, then whirled her into one of the complicated Yehrin dances she had grown up watching. Her worries disappeared in a blaze of laughter as she gave herself over the pleasures of the evening and her mate.

Much later that night, she put Pearl down in her crib. Budra padded over and laid down next to the baby while Emlan slipped out of her party clothes and into a brief summer nightgown. She gave the crileth a quick head scratch and went to find Tren.

He was seated in the rocking chair on the front porch of their cabin, looking out into the night. When she appeared, he silently opened his arms and she went to join him, curling into his lap as they rocked quietly. She put a curious finger on the necklace she had given him so long ago, the one he never removed.

“You haven’t opened this since you regained your sight.”

“I do not need to open it. I have you in front of me—here and real and mine.”

“Then why do you still wear it?”

“Because I treasure it. Because it was a reminder that you were here waiting for me when I had nothing else to hold to hold on to.”

She pressed a kiss against his jaw, and they rocked in silence once more. He seemed to be in a thoughtful mood, silver eyes glinting as he gazed into the distance, although she suspected he was not looking at their surroundings.

“I spent a lot of time in this chair,” he said finally. “I spent so much time waiting for you, but it is worth every moment that I waited to have you with me now. You and Pearl.”

“I used to come over here, after you left. I could never decide if I was happy here because I could feel close to you or sad because this was the last place that we were together before you left. I’m so sorry that I drove you away.”

“You did not drive me away. I just did not have the strength to resist you.” He tucked her more tightly against his chest.

“I should not have tested you.”

“I told you. That memory was one of the few things that kept me sane in the mines. Knowing that you were here, that you were waiting for me.”

“I didn’t realize then what I wanted from you,” she said as she turned to face him, straddling his lap as she had done so long ago. His body responded immediately.

“But now I know.” She rocked the damp warmth of her pussy against the massive bar of his erection and he groaned. “And now, you don’t have to control yourself.”

She leaned forward, pressing teasing little kisses along his jaw, until he cupped her head in one big hand and brought her mouth to his, kissing her, as demanding as always, but no longer frantic. He seemed to have finally accepted that she was with him and that he would never wake up to find himself back in the mines again. His other hand brought her closer to his erection, rubbing her back and forth until she was swollen and ready. She freed his erection with shaky hands, while he pulled her nightgown up over her hips. As soon as her clothing was out of the way, he picked her up and pulled her down over his rigid shaft. He captured her cry with his mouth as he took control, thrusting up into her in a fierce determined rhythm that had her sinking her nails into his shoulders as she fought to hold on, fought to wait for his climax.

Her head dropped to his neck, the smooth skin tempting her, and as her climax swept over her, she bit down, marking him as hers, marking him with her love. He gave a hoarse cry and she felt him shudder, felt his heat deep inside her as her own body convulsed around his thick cock. She sagged against him, spent, breathless, and happy.

His hand went to his neck, tightly skimming the imprint of her teeth.

“You marked me.”

Her cheeks heated. “Yes. Do you mind?”

“Mind? I told you that I would be honored to wear your mark. It will show the world what I have always known. I am yours, Emlan. I have always been yours.”

He pulled her closer and began rocking again, but the gentle movement made his embedded cock rub delightfully against her sensitive flesh. She felt him start to harden again and she gave a teasing wiggle to encourage him, but just as he bent his head to hers once more, a muted cry sounded from within the house. They both laughed.

“Our daughter calls,” she said with a rueful smile.

He gently lifted her free, returning the smile. “I will change her diaper while you clean up and then I will bring her to you.”

“Perfect. And perhaps we can resume this later.” She stroked a teasing hand along his still rigid cock. “If you think it’s worth waiting for.”

“You will always be worth waiting for, Emlan.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and together they went to care for their daughter.

Author’s Note

Thank you so much for reading Alien Hope! This was an emotional book to write – poor Tren went through so much – but I loved giving him his happy ending! Whether you loved the book or not, it would mean the world to me if you left an honest review on Amazon. Word of mouth is incredibly helpful for authors and I’d love to know your thoughts!

As always, I am so grateful for the love and support of my readers – you are awesome! A huge shout out to Bex McLynn and Emmy Chandler for being a constant source of encouragement, good advice, and the occasional kick in the butt! And, of course, I have to thank my awesome beta readers – Janet S, Tammy S, Annie T, and Kitty S!

So what’s next? There are many more stories to be told in this universe – I can’t leave Emlan’s sisters hanging after all! And those Breeding Centers that were set up after the first year of the invasion? More than one Yehrin warrior found his mate there! Look for more Alien Invasion next year!

I also have a whole new world to share with you in 2020! I’ll give you one hint for now – cyborgs! More about that soon, but in the meantime, I’m thrilled to announce that Bex McLynn and I have collaborated on another book in the Treasured by the Alien series!

Coming in December – A Son for the Alien Warrior!

Mariah’s search for her missing sister and nephew takes her onboard an alien spaceship and into the arms of a massive alien warrior. Cestov is conducting his own search – one that leads to a distant planet, a troubled ranch, and a little boy who calls him Daddy. Neither Mariah nor Cestov ever thought they would find a permanent home, but can their shared love for a child help them to move on to a new future as a family?

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Other Titles

Alien Abduction Series

Anna and the Alien

Beth and the Barbarian

Cam and the Conqueror

Deb and the Demon

Ella and the Emperor

Faith and the Fighter

Greta and the Gargoyle

Alien Invasion Series

Alien Selection

Alien Conquest

Alien Prisoner

Alien Breeder

Alien Alliance

Alien Hope

Cosmic Fairy Tales

Jackie and the Giant

Treasured by the Alien Series

with Bex McLynn

Mama and the Alien Warrior

A Son for the Alien Warrior

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Other Titles