Lil Gibson Feline Predators Of Ganz 02 Sherem

Lil Gibson

SHEREM

Book 2: Feline Predators of Ganz

LIL GIBSON

Venus Press LLC

SHEREM

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FELINE PREDATORS OF GANZ 2: SHEREM

ISBN: 1-59836-271-2

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Lil Gibson

Acknowledgements:

First and foremost I'd like to thank Deborah Lynne--cheerleader, motivator,
brainstormer, editor, and most importantly, friend.

To Charmin Kuhn, my friend and second pair of eyes. To Lynn Pittenger
for her continuing lessons on grammar and sentence structuring, and patient
friendship. And to my mother, Connie Shaffer, who knows the spelling and
definition of every word in the dictionary off the top of her head. I love you
Ma...you too Dad.

SHEREM

Dedication:

To my husband John, my real life hero who has supported my writing habit
from conception to fruition. I love you, honey.

Lil Gibson

Prologue

Like ticks on a boar, they jumped and clung to the lone warrior. The Horta or

mountain people rarely attacked another human so the situation was one of interest to the
great beast observing the unfolding slaughter. The ankou matched the mountain people
in height but walked on four legs instead of two and easily tripled their width and weight.
Some believed the ankou synonymous with werewolf, while others an ancient myth told
in deep night around a fire; it mattered not to the ankou for no one saw them and lived to
tell the tale.

The mountain people had lain in wait for the giant warrior for the better part of

the afternoon, while one not of the mountain people handed out weapons and advice on
usage. The arms, though not sophisticated—knives, clubs and mallets, would do damage
enough.

The one ambushed towered over his assailants and had the instincts and talent of a

seasoned fighter, but the sheer number of Horta were against him, he would fall.

The warrior knew his death grew near, but determination and well-honed reflexes

prevented him from yielding to the inevitable. From a race of fierce predators himself,
the ankou was impressed with the fierce one’s tenacious hold on his discipline; he would
easily kill two thirds of the mountain people before succumbing to the next realm. But
unlike any other bi-ped he encountered, he could read this one’s thoughts. The ankou
read his determination, his anger, and self-recrimination at being caught unaware. The
powerful human knew he had only moments left but refused to give up. The ankou felt a
connection and a joining with the warrior that would force him to intervene. It was a
feeling quite foreign to him but not unnatural. The ankou were loners, rarely traveling in
packs as other similar species; they did however remain to raise their cubs and protect the
she-ankou after mating. But this pull proved an anomaly; it held strangeness and
rightness in the same grip. It was ordained.

The warrior belonged to him and he would protect him.

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Rarely did his kind show themselves to humans and when they did, it did not bode

well for the humans’ continued existence. Today would be no different. His path had
just taken an unexpected turn but rather than question it, he would follow…little time
remained. He gathered mass and took form even while gaining full speed toward the
melee. When he roared, closing quickly now, the squatty Horta froze as one, then
scattered like insects…

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Chapter One

Earth Year 2031
Princess Nadia, of the House of Ra, Province of Gattonia studied her reflection

absently, mentally preparing herself for the confrontation ahead. If that were possible.
Her reflection showed a non-descript female of almost twenty cycles with tawny hair,
skin, and eyes that her sister-in-law referred to as cat eyes. Ordinarily she spent as little
time in front of the mirror as possible. She’d overheard what others called her. Amber
albino, one-color-wonder, lady leuko. She sighed and decided to add another layer of
eyeshadow, blush, and lip color in a futile effort to add a little contrast to her features.

Her last meeting with the Prince of Nefar grazed her consciousness and she

shuddered—she wouldn’t think about that now, her mission to rescue her brother and
family over-shadowed all else. In an instant, her eyes cleared and focused on her face
with a ruthless determination spun from desperation. He must listen, she must convince
him; little time remained—she grew certain of it. She rose from her vanity and exited her
chambers without a backward glance.

The Inner House Facilitator of the House of Baraden entered the private chambers

of Prince Sherem, finding him engaged in a not uncommon exercise.

“A visitor, my Prince, claiming to be one Princess Nadia, though one has to doubt

her true identity considering the manner in which the 'true princess' exited some seven
moons ago. If I recall, her exact words were, "I will return again to the House of Baraden
when the fires of Effers Mountain freeze over!" Since that will likely not occur in the
next thousand millenniums, one can only marvel at the miracle of her appearance today."
He ended with a sniff that held feigned snobbery.

"Do not tease, Julius, we discovered just how volatile the princess could be on her

last visit." To say nothing of the first, he amended privately. "Behave graciously and
show her into the receiving room. I will be with her as soon as I finish here." He
motioned to his pleasurer to begin a faster pace. His heart began a staccato beat, causing

SHEREM

his breath to quicken and a light sheen of sweat to appear on his exposed flesh. The
changes could not be credited to his pleasurer’s actions but rather to the news just
imparted. Nadia had come to him. His self-imposed exile was finally at an end. Staying
clear of her these last moons had been harder than any battle he had waged, but at last his
strategy had paid off. He closed his eyes to hide the fierce satisfaction shining there. He
had made many mistakes concerning his future mate, gravely miscalculating her
stubbornness and resolve...and vulnerability. But things would be different now; he
would gain the upper hand and keep it, and finally have her where she belonged.

A slight scuffle outside his chambers occurred before a rainbow of shimmering,

layered shifts and flowing locks whooshed through his panel, skirted around Julius, and
skidded to a halt several paces from Sherem. Utter silence prevailed while Julius,
Sherem, and the pleasurer, kneeling on the floor between the prince’s legs, waited for the
eruption sure to occur.

Nadia gaped at the scene before her, her gaze tracing the naked, powerful torso

that showcased more than a dusting of inky black hair. Gattonian males had no hair on
their chests so the sight made her skin prick with awareness. It swirled around his chest
circling dark nipples then migrated in an arrowed line toward the huge appendage
between his thighs, now exposed, as the pleasurer sat back and licked her swollen lips.
As the seconds passed, Nadia could seem neither to close her mouth…or her eyes to
block the incomprehensible vision. Never had she seen or been prepared for anything of
this magnitude. So sure of her welcome and put out by the rudeness of the IHF, she
hadn't thought—still could not think. She froze; repulsed, disgusted…and somehow
mesmerized by the long, thick member, bobbing slightly as if in greeting.

Sherem quietly bid both the pleasurer and Julius from his chambers and again

waited, seated before her, exposed. She blinked twice, as if trying to dispel the image,
mouth still agape. Sherem grew distinctly uncomfortable. As an innocent, protected
maiden in the body of a temptress, Sherem did not know whether he was further aroused
at the sight of her riveted to his arousal or appalled by his blatant decadence. His shaft
twitched in unsolicited response and her gaze finally came unglued from his manhood
only to fasten on his steadfast scrutiny. He smiled knowingly and twin red blotches
appeared on each of her cheeks. His discomfort turned into embarrassment tinged with
shame at the unspoken accusation in her eyes He deplored being made to feel like a
common troglodyte, a Horta, as though he had no right to his pleasure in the privacy of

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his own chambers, like an uncouth barbarian not worthy to lick her delectable booted
feet. To make matters worse, when those feelings surfaced he tended to strike back,
aggravating an already ticklish situation.

While his mind grappled for civility, his tongue proceeded without it. "Nadia,

misulu," he began softly, "either close your mouth and adjourn to my private study while
I make myself presentable," he warned softly and motioned to a panel to his left, "or
leave your mouth open and put it to use finishing what you interrupted with your
uninvited presence in my private chambers." Inwardly, he winced at his crass suggestion.
What got into him whenever she was near? Why couldn't he control himself…his
tongue…his penis?

Nadia snapped her mouth shut, then paused, and tilted her head slightly as if

striving to comprehend the full meaning of his command, then quietly and carefully, as if
she would shatter, made her way to the panel he indicated. It slid silently closed behind
her.

Sherem leaned back, eyes closed and grabbed his mane. Groaning aloud, he

called himself twelve times an idiot, imbecile, and an unmitigated fool. Could the
amount of ground he had just lost even be calculated? His fleeting triumph had been
buried under an avalanche of dung and it had taken less than a minute to achieve.
Stuffing his now semi-flaccid member into his breeches and fastening his shirt, he
contemplated her reaction. She had not flown at him in a rage, as was her usual reaction
to his seemingly never-ending insults to her sensibilities—or rail against him and his
pointlessly base manner and offensive language, as he certainly deserved—did not even
flee, as she sometimes chose to do. Zazu, she mystified him more with each encounter.

Since entering society two cycles past, Nadia had acquired the label of "Ice

Princess", a female with a bloodless, passionless nature. Sherem smirked at the thought
for though she projected a cool demeanor and impenetrable reserve, in actuality, she
possessed a kind-hearted, fragile spirit with the soul of a termagant and backbone of
steel…and he should know. What she lacked in physical strength she made up in
scathing words and cutting wit. At times, she fairly flew at him, her words zinging
toward him like so many Tenian daggers, some hitting their mark with unnerving
accuracy. Yet it hadn't always been so, he pondered, as he made for the clean room.

When he had met her three cycles past, she had been a fresh, innocent, incredibly

passionate-yet-shy child/siren and so easily wounded. She had been too young and

SHEREM

wholly inexperienced. He was just now coming to suspect that his initial and ongoing
handling of her might partially be responsible for the wall of frosty reserve she showed to
the rest of the world. Zazu, he hoped not. But regardless of how it occurred, she had
grown into a female equal to him in every way, who captured his soul, fired his blood and
left him wanting her more with each hour.

Memories of their first meeting wedged into Sherem's thoughts. He had been

struck dumb at his first glimpse of her and marveled at the sheer power of her effect on
his senses. And their first kiss, when her untutored body melded onto his like molten
lava, she had scorched him for all time, ruining him for any other female. If he had
believed in love, which he did not, he would have said it approximated love at first sight.
It certainly evoked lust at first sight. He had spent more than three cycles trying to bind
her to his side as lifemate, and yet with each meeting he alienated her further. And while
many times in the past, he did not understand what occurred to widen the breach between
them, this time he had deliberately bated her, proving what an uncouth Horta he could be.
He had acted just as she probably expected.

Was he demented?
And what of her reaction? She had behaved with quiet dignity and devastating

vulnerability. Vulnerability he had not witnessed since first encountering the quiet,
unsure fledgling female that still haunted his dreams these three cycles past. A gaping
vulnerability that brought out an impossibly strong instinct to protect her with every fiber
of his being, even while the barbarian in him wanted to take her down and ride her
mercilessly until forced to confess his dominion over her. The two conflicting emotions
warring within were so diametrically opposed that, at times, he felt as if they were
rending him in two.

The people of Nefar were reputed to be the 'uncivilized ones’ of the planet Ganz;

they were rougher, less refined, and more barbaric than those of the other Provinces. As
mercenaries and warriors, they sold their skills to the highest bidder. With their lands all
but devoid of natural resources, it remained the only method for keeping Nefar
financially solvent and their people fed. He padded into the clean room to wash—and
attempt to cleanse himself of the guilt coating his conscience before having to face Nadia.

***

Idiot, fool, imbecile; she called herself again and again. Oh, would she never

learn? Though no word had come from Sherem since her last disastrous visit to the

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House of Baraden she had believed, was almost sure that she would be welcomed, that he
would help her, and retained an interest in mating with her. She thought it her one
bargaining chip that could be parlayed into a voyage to rescue her brother. Obviously,
she had miscalculated, once more, and this time the blame laid squarely at the foot her
own rash behavior. He was most likely laughing himself insensate at her expense. This
proved even more degrading than her last visit. At least then, he hadn't known how he
had hurt her, was unaware that she’d overheard what he and his friends thought of her
and how his words pummeled her composure along with her self-worth.

She wanted to leave and never set eyes on him again, but she was trapped in his

inner sanctum with no escape-hatch handy, and she refused to walk back into his
chambers. There was no telling what might be occurring there.

She hugged herself tightly as she recalled her last visit. Sherem had been sitting

with his male friends, playing a card game in the spacious study off the main
entertainment hall where a band warmed up in preparation for the dancing to begin. His
brother, Dakar, sent her to rouse him from his play; after hinting, with a wicked gleam in
his eyes, that she was the only one likely to capture Sherem’s attention and get him to
open the dancing. Butterflies commenced their own jig in her stomach at the thought of
approaching him.

She was addicted to him and had been since the first kiss he’d given her over

three cycles past. Arriving at the House of Ra, in order to prepare for 'the evil invaders'
attack, he launched a preemptive strike on her untried mouth and senses, shattering her
equilibrium and changing her from child to grown female in the flash of an instant.

The entrance to the study panel had slid open silently and assaulted her senses.

The surroundings defined overpowering masculinity in both look, and feel; it even
smelled like male with a combination of liquor, smoke, and sweat. Her gaze fastened on
Sherem as he rearranged the cards in his hand. He spoke in a low lazy drawl that never
ceased to set her abdomen humming, so that at first she didn't realize the conversation
centered on her.

"I will not let her go. Eventually I will wear her down, ease her skittishness and

then she will be mine. I will have no other. I suppose that it is the one thing that made
the Dargon invasion worthwhile," he commented through the grunts and chiding laughter
around him.

SHEREM

"She leads you around by your man root and you do nothing but drool," Rishd,

the thin graying male commented. "Have you no pride; no will of your own? She is
spoiled fluff encased in ice with all the passion of a rotted log. What makes you want to
mate with one such as that? If you have an itch for her why not just tie her down, take
her, tame her, and train her to your will?" The slimy Tenian leader spat into the spittoon
next to him before adding. "Bah, Gattonians, they're over controlled, under feeling
drones."

She believed Sherem would defend her.
"Be very careful, Rishd, you are discussing the future queen of Nefar. And I fully

expect to do all you have suggested, but I will also pamper her all the hours of the
day…on her back, on her stomach, on her knees, and any other position I choose," he
replied softly with a dangerous flash suddenly clear in his midnight eyes. The others at
the table began guffawing. "And I would venture to add that if her brother had
overheard you just now, you would no longer be in your seat but on your head."

"I agree with Rishd. Why do you bother with her?" Ollie, the Kerrdic diplomat

seated on Sherem’s right wanted to know. "She has no contrast, nothing to break-up the
monotony between hair, skin, eyes and personality. She is bland both in looks and
temperament. A tawny albino, colorless as weak, tasteless broth, though I suppose you
could keep more interesting females close at hand. She would most likely have no
complaint, ascending as she would, to the rank of queen,” he commented with a smirk
while throwing in his hand, signaling an end to the game. “But there are many others of
equal rank, more amenable and easier to look at, and most of them are here tonight, why
not just pick another and give up on the colorless Ice Maiden?"

Sherem sighed and rolled his eyes before replying. "What is the most valuable

export on Ganz, my friends?" Amusement unmistakable in his tone.

Nadia had been thoroughly confused by the change of subject. What could that

have to do with her?

Rishd hissed and smacked the side of his pin-shaped head. "Why you sucking

Syphor, you would gain permanent control over their Assyllis, both production and
export for all time and bring untold wealth to yourself and your people.” He scratched
his beard and his expression turned cunning. "My sons will someday be in line for the
rule of Tena. They are not too much older than you and still quite popular with females.
Maybe they should give you some competition, Nefari. They couldn't do much worse than

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you, so far." He licked his lips in lewd anticipation. "Perhaps she might even prefer an
older male still full in his juices."

Nadia had not stayed to hear more. She’d lunged madly to a near-by clean room

and lost her evening meal. She was nothing to him but a monetary boon. She had come
to believe he desired her for herself, when all along, it had been a ruthless ploy for power
and wealth. She swore at that moment that the fires of Effers Mountain would freeze
before she would mate with that hairy monzu, and not even then.

That had been seven moons and three dawns ago and yet here she stood again,

prepared to beg for his assistance if necessary. Nadia faced the window trying to hold on
to her composure, even as tears slowly made their way down her cheeks. She did not
notice the lush accoutrements of the room she occupied but instead gazed out the window
and studied the harsh, rocky terrain that formed Nefar. Though stark and
uncompromising with hidden crevices and jutting, unforgiving cliffs, it exuded a
haunting majesty and awesome force that was as breathtaking as it was treacherous.
Rather like Sherem, himself. It made her wonder at the similarities between herself and
the land of Gattonia with its soft, gently rolling hills and constant sibilant breezes that
played with the trees and flowers. She and Sherem were the exact antithesis of one
another, forging a life together would have been an impossible disaster. It was good she
had witnessed what she had today. Her budding dreams where the Nefari Prince was
concerned disintegrated for good.

She wondered if she could go forward with her plan.
Sherem entered silently behind her and noted the slump of her normally erect

shoulders. Still, she was magnificent in her flowing rainbow gown that showed
everything and nothing at once; and her satiny mane that seemed to illuminate her in a
golden halo, when kissed by the sun as it was now. She was exquisite, flawless. He
wanted to touch her with an ache that had only grown since his first taste of her.

How could he breach this latest chasm?
He approached slowly and waited for her to sense his presence. Wave after wave

of despair and a myriad of other dark emotions poured off of her bludgeoning his senses
like physical blows. Though she made no discernable movement, he knew the moment
she sensed him for he could see her muscles and tendons tighten to statue-like rigidity.
He gently laid his hands upon her shoulders and traced the line from the base her dainty
ears along the curve of her long neck down to the tops of her shoulders. When she didn't

SHEREM

jerk away, he enfolded her within a careful embrace and held her to him. She slowly
relaxed and leaned her head back against his chest. She seemed as weary of their
confrontations as he.

"Nadia…misulu," he whispered softly. "For just this moment…no recriminations,

no ill feelings. Let us be in accord. I have missed you greatly and would hold you to me.
You have a talent for making me feel like the lowest form of refuse crawler."

"That's because you are one," she muttered even as she leaned against him. Could

it be she needed this brief reassurance as much as he? He gently kissed and then laved
the hollow at the base of her neck where he would one day mark her as his mate. Rarely,
from the time they met had she allowed him such access.

Nadia felt herself melt into Sherem. Zazu, what this male did to her when he

spoke in that soft raspy voice, the low hypnotic cadence and exotic accent of the Nefari,
reaching deep into her very core. More potent than any mixture of jive, Sherem’s scent
intoxicated her beyond reason. He made her feel sheltered, protected, and small as he
bowed over her, eclipsing her height more than six inches. At these times, she would
follow him into the fires of Hades; where she briefly visited each time he kissed her.
Thank the heavens he normally communicated with clipped commands and drawling
cynicism issued across a room.

Sherem meant to comfort her in a non-sexual manner but the longer she let him

hold her, the more aroused he became. Her intoxicating fragrance and lush pliant curves
settled against him sending his senses spinning. She would feel it at any moment. What
was he to do? The civilized thing, of course, would be to step away and regain control.
A pity he was Nefari. He smiled and ran a finger down the inside of her arms, barely
grazing the outside of each breast; gratified when a tremor stole through her in reaction to
his touch. He snaked one arm around her waist to anchor her while he lowered a hand to
her abdomen, splayed his fingers firmly against her, and pressed, cradling himself in the
crevice of her buttocks. He groaned. It only took a moment for her to react. She yelped
and tried to pull away but he held her firmly and growled in her ear. "Feel what you do
to me each time I touch you, misulu, each time I see you, smell you, or even conjure your
image in my dreams."

Nadia snorted with strangled conviction and replied, "You think I am flattered,

you great monzu? That happens to you with any female, as I witnessed first hand not ten
minutes ago! Now release me, I did not come for this, I need you for quite another

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purpose." Nadia didn't know where the strength came from to pull away, when all she
wanted entailed reassurance and kisses, but with her strength came anger, and with anger
came resolve.

"She is a pleasurer, Nadia, a gift from the people of Jasper," Sherem enunciated

succinctly, looming over her, his hands placed arrogantly on his hips. "She serves no
purpose but to give me sexual exercise and physical release. It is mechanical—altogether
different from what I feel for you."

"Ha!" Nadia returned with equal hauteur. "If it looks like a duck, waddles like a

duck, and quacks like a duck," she recited, staring pointedly at his erection. "It ain't no
dog!"

Sherem gawked at her incredulously, as if she had instantly sprouted horns. Well,

at least she had his undivided attention, she decided.

"What are you talking about? What 'duck'? I have never heard it referred to as a

'duck'. Perhaps a 'cock' on certain planets…"

He seemed to run out of words as he studied her, probably waiting for an

explanation. Actually, Nadia didn't know exactly the significance of the duck but it was
an earth saying that her sister-in-law, Catarina, employed frequently and it seemed to fit
the occasion. "You have missed the point. How is your erection different with me than
with your pleasurer? It seems to me that one would be the same as another," she asked
with genuine curiosity behind the accusation. A thought suddenly occurred to her. Could
Nefari males be different? Maybe they were just built that way and constantly required
assistance in order for it to deflate. The Earth romances she regularly read never
mentioned such an affliction but then they did not know of the Nefari. Maybe she was
embarrassing him. Actually, he looked like he had just swallowed something unpleasant.

He could barely credit the words pouring from her mouth. She wanted to know

about his erections? Was she supposed to know the word? Even at twenty cycles she
remained naïve in the ways of lovemaking. Was her sister-in-law telling her things best
left to her mate to explain? Of one thing he was certain; he did not want to explain about
erections.

Studying him uncertainly, her gleaming white teeth worried her moist, plump

lower lip.

SHEREM

This reassured him, what did it matter in the long run how she found out about

erections? He smiled. "When the time comes, little one, I will show you rather than tell
you. Now why have you come?"

She started at the change of topic and looked chagrined as the words burst from

her with abject urgency. “I need your help, Sherem. It is of utmost importance that a
ship be dispatched to Earth in search of my brother and his family. He left on the
Miramid some six moons past and hasn’t been heard from in over four, when they
entered Earth’s atmosphere. They are in trouble; I can feel it. Please, Sherem, you are
my only hope,” she implored, resting her hand lightly on his chest, her eyes, beseeching.

“What of your High Council misulu. Surely if a problem existed, they would

send a ship immediately.” Sherem was confused. A common enough occurrence when
dealing with his future mate. He had been aware of Gattonias’ mission to look into
atmospheric irregularities surrounding Earth that could eventually impact their own
galaxy. He did not, however, know that Zorroc headed the mission with his family in
tow. He focused carefully on Nadia’s next words.

“The members of the Council…” She licked her lips nervously and blinked

rapidly. A wholly uncommon occurrence and one that brought all of Sherem’s protective
instincts to the fore. “They won’t listen to me. They discounted my concerns as
missish…and chastised me for my efforts to contact my brother through COM
transmissions not cleared by the Council. They dismissed me out of hand, or you might
say; kicked me out and barred me from making further appeals,” Nadia admitted,
ruefully.

How dare they treat their Princess with such disrespect, dismiss her as one would

a common citizen, and leave her feeling foolish and powerless when in truth, she could
be next in line to rule Gattonia if something happened to Zorroc and his off-spring.
Sherem’s ire built at a steady rate until all that filled his vision was red…

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Chapter Two

Nadia arrived back at the House of Ra, feeling cautiously optimistic.
It went better than she had expected, especially considering the way her visit

began. Sherem promised to do some checking of his own and call upon her by weeks'
end to let her know if he would send a ship to earth to search for her brother. She had not
yet made the stipulation that she would be on that ship and he had not yet made any
stipulations of his own. She devised several well thought out scenarios rendering her
presence essential, and continued to fine-tune her arguments. She would be on that
voyage.

Nadia had told Sherem a COM would be sufficient to deliver his answer as to his

assistance but he had insisted on responding in person. Was he making the concession
because of the scene she witnessed in his private chambers? Maybe she could use his
contriteness to sway him to her thinking, because she would be on that ship even if she
had to stow away. For though her concern for her brother and family outweighed all else,
she also wanted this adventure with a longing born from years of tedium and over
protectiveness on the part of her aunts and brother. While they and everyone else she
knew constantly traveled the galaxies, exploring different worlds, and meeting diverse
peoples, Nadia had remained tethered to the House of Ra like a princess trapped in a
tower. A hothouse flower stuck in a carefully regulated greenhouse. She was sick of
being pampered, sick of being too young, too sheltered and too bored. Half of her felt
guilty that she’d use her family’s disappearance as a means to get off the planet, but the
other half hoped they could postpone their safe return another week or two so she would
be on her way and too late to stop. She didn’t worry about being with Sherem because
she knew he’d never hurt her or get too rambunctious out of respect for her brother. She
had kept him at arms length for three cycles and was sure she could continue for another
few weeks. Besides, this opportunity could give them a chance to know one another
better. More than likely, he would lose interest in her all together.

SHEREM

Nadia frowned at her last thought for it didn’t make her feel the relief she

anticipated.

Sherem made careful inquiries as to the status and last known coordinates of the

Miramid. He did not want the Gattonian High Council to get wind of his plans for their
princess. They could deduce that he intended to take her with him and step in to block
his plans. That he would not allow. But how to inform Nadia her presence on board the
Portender was a non-negotiable requirement. Ultimatums were ineffective and caused
her to become more intractable. If the last three cycles had taught Sherem aught else, it
was that. When he pushed, she pushed back even harder. So he would entice her,
perhaps put her in a position where the idea to accompany him became her own. He
could hint that her presence was essential because of the telepathic link she shared with
her brother. In truth, it might come in handy. Nadia would do anything for her brother—
and Sherem would do anything to have Nadia.

He would do his best to seduce her into acquiescence but if that failed, he would

somehow trick her into coming aboard and then depart. She would be trapped and
compromised forcing her brother to approve the joining whether she chose it or not.
Sherem smiled with wolfish intent. She would be neatly trapped. It was a good plan. He
felt more optimistic than he had in a very long time. He resumed issuing orders for his
ship and began to plot a course to Earth.

* * *

Dakar closed down the View-COM that observed Sherem making inquiries and

giving orders to make the Portender travel-ready by weeks' end. Sherem intended to help
the Gattonian Princess, and Dakar needed no View-COM to confirm it. He could feel it
clear down to his bones. And his brother would use the Princess's request to trap her into
a lifemating. Sherem was clearly in love with the golden goddess, but too stubborn to
admit it, even to himself. Especially to himself. In the past, Dakar would have advised
that a true lifemate made a stronger warrior, not a weaker one, and that refusing to
acknowledge the truth of his feelings, made him more and not less vulnerable. But no
more. Sherem’s would-be assassins may not have succeeded in killing him, as yet, but
they had terminated the life long bond of trust and friendship between brothers. Dakar
had been all but accused of masterminding the attacks on Sherem’s life. Instead of
Sherem siding with him in the face of the allegations, however, he sided with the
accusers. After all, Dakar was next in line for the rule of Nefar. Who else could it be?

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Sherem no longer sought his counsel, his company, or his protection and when that
became clear to the others around them, Dakar became an outcast, a betrayer. The irony
was that he was the one betrayed, by everyone he loved and trusted.

Now Dakar's opportunity for revenge had finally arrived. They had chosen his

role, and he would faithfully play his part. He smiled and began forming his own plans.

* * *

"So what did you think of her, Bran? Not quite the frigid ornament everyone

believes, yes?" The ankou studied him for a moment before telepathing an assent into
Sherem's mind. It was an odd talent Sherem had, and one he’d never admitted to another
human. He could read the thoughts of animals and they his. It was something he had
been born with and so inherent in his nature, he rarely thought on the uniqueness of it.
But that talent had saved his life several moons before when the ankou had come to his
aid in the midst of an assassination attempt by a tribe of rouge Horta, the mountain
people of Nefar.

Experts theorized the Horta to be the original inhabitants of Ganz and a more

primitive life form than the remaining humanoids, which were considered to be
transplants from other galaxies. No one, however, could substantiate these theories or
negate them. It was also presumed that the Nefari and the Gattonians had a shared
ancestry and simply evolved differently due to the lands they occupied, which also could
not be substantiated. And how to explain the unusual capabilities of the people of Ganz;
capabilities not found on other planets within their galaxy. The Gattonians, the province
to the south, were known telepaths with expanded talents not spoken of to outsiders. The
people of Kerr, the province to the east of Nefar, could travel out of their bodies to
anywhere they chose, leaving their bodies behind in a state of rest. The people of Tena,
the province to the west and south of Nefar, had telekinetic abilities. He had witnessed a
Tenian levitate a starship seventy calabrays off the ground as if it weighed no more than a
feather. And what of the Nefari? Their heightened senses allotted them the uncanny
ability to defeat the enemy and defend themselves in battle. They could feel slight
changes in the air and detect the exact location of movement even blinded. They could
smell one of a different race, which avoided wounding a comrade and their eyesight was
so keen they could react to a threat before an enemy flinched. They were fierce warriors,
feared throughout the galaxies. On certain planets, they were purported to be un-killable,
immortal. They were not, of course.

SHEREM

But Sherem could read animals, could mind-speak with them, and they with him.

He knew of no other with similar ability. It involved not so much transference of
thought, as feelings. Similar to using music to communicate in lieu of words. And it had
saved his life in the form of the ankou. Many thought they were a myth. Something
spook stories were woven around. Rarely seen and greatly feared by the Horta, it was
said they not only killed humans, but devoured them leaving nothing, not even a bone or
a drop of blood. They were considered immortal, as well. Sherem was unsure about that
part.

Bran stood four feet tall at the shoulder and over two feet wide. He looked

similar to a very large, shaggy, and menacing wolf. He'd come to Sherem's assistance
when no less than thirty Horta had ambushed him after the annual meeting with the Chief
Horta in charge of Macronadin mining.

“Your mind wanders to the squattys that attacked you.”
“Horta not squattys,” Sherem corrected telepathically.
“Who is to know what I call them, but you? It cannot hurt. And the description is

apt; my language skills are improving,” Bran pointed out.

“It can hurt when next I meet with them and call them squatty, by mistake.”
“Ahh.” Bran knew his friend relived past frights. “You fought well, that

afternoon, why do you dwell on it? You change the scenarios of fight strategies, picture
yourself armed, worry on the how of it. You were not unprepared or careless. How
could you have foreseen an evil force handing the squattys weapons, demonstrating use,
and rewarding them with much food, skins and metals?”

“You are right, I suppose. It still baffles me, though. The Horta have never

raised arms, their minds are childlike and simple, not malicious. They know only
kindness from us; we have cared for them for centuries.”

“Your tribe pack spent many suns teaching them how to cut and use the black

rocks, as well.”

“It’s Macronadin and we taught them to mine it to instill self-reliance and respect

for themselves. It is one of few natural resources on Nefar and precious to us.”

“It provides heat for those without natural coats.” Bran paused and scratched

behind an ear before shaking his rich bushy fur.

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“Yes, it’s used throughout the galaxies. Three cubic inches can be heated by a

single blazer-blast and warm a six-calabray area for close to a full moon. It has saved
the life of many a stranded traveler; all now carry a piece.”

“I have seen them eat from it,” Bran stated.
“Yes, it can be carved and shaped into a wide shallow bowl and used for

cooking,” Sherem remarked absently.

“Your mind is still on the attack, my friend.” A grunt was Sherem’s only

response.

The ambush occurred on his way home riding his horse, Rina, as the roughness of

the northern terrain sorely limited the landing options of a micro-jet. The attack had been
well planned by an outsider bent on his demise yet one who knew of his practice to visit
the Horta unarmed. Sherem took down at least ten but had been badly injured in the
process; he believed his chances of survival dwindled with each second and silently
cursed his inattentiveness and credulity where the Horta were concerned. Just as another
blow clubbed the back of his head, he heard a chilling howl loud enough to wake the
spirits. The Horta began scattering in mad disarray but to no avail. Every one of them
were torn apart by a giant beast in the midst of a blood lust Sherem could only watch in
horrified awe. When the Horti were dispatched, the beast came and stood over him,
panting fiercely and looking around as if expecting other intruders. The beast touched his
mind with a feeling of unleashed protectiveness and tentative affection. Sherem thanked
him for his timely intervention and the two had been inseparable since.

Sherem named the ankou Bran after a mythical monstrous beast from ancient

mythology and he became his protector. Bran had the capability to shift, as to make
himself all but invisible, and Nadia had not detected his presence when she visited his
chambers or when the ankou had quietly followed her into his private study. He was
fairly confident that if Bran had made himself known to her, she would have run
screaming from his House and this time not have returned even if the fires of Effers
Mountain had frozen. The two padded companionably down the main hall toward the
COM room where he intended to finalize preparations for departure. If Zorroc and his
family were truly missing, it could disrupt the entire political balance of Ganz and
possibly beyond. Secrecy also guided his moves or his plans for Nadia could be forfeit.
It proved sad and not a little ironic that he could trust no one but Bran. At one time,

SHEREM

Sherem would have sought the advice of his brother, Dakar, but as he had surfaced as the
prime suspect behind the numerous assassination attempts, he did not deem it prudent.

Dakar had inherited the greater portion of savoir-faire in the family, imbued with

a wry sense of humor and natural empathy that made him the consummate diplomat—
and probably a much better leader than Sherem. A trick of birth, however, decreed it
otherwise unless, of course, something happened to Sherem. Dakar swore repeatedly that
he harbored no desire for Sherem's place; further, counted himself blessed not to be
saddled with the burden of ruler. However there remained the very short list of those
who would benefit from Sherem’s demise. It almost had to be Dakar or their younger
brother, Rand, the baby of the family and three cycles younger than Dakar. The two were
sent off-world to the knowledge planet and raised together, while Sherem remained in
Nefar as the future ruler. Rand and Dakar had been inseparable until their father
summoned Dakar home to be trained as a backup in case something should befall the
current heir to the realm. Rand’s only interests revolved around scholarly pursuits. Even
when he returned home for occasional visits, his nose was never out of a book or away
from an educational screen program. He did not seem to discriminate on subject matter;
his mind acted as a sponge that required constant watering in the form of knowledge. He
was quiet, reserved and the least violent male that Sherem had encountered. Power
meant less than nothing to Rand and violence, positively abhorred him. He was often
teased for his aversion to combat and weaponry, an inherent Nefari trait.

Sherem’s ministers had nothing to gain by his demise. What would be the

difference between one brother and another? There would be no gain of power or
increased wealth. And his father, the King? That was even more ridiculous than the
ministers' theory.

It always returned to one person—Dakar.

Lil Gibson

Chapter Three

"Dakar, what a surprise! Please make yourself to rest." Nadia beamed and then

turned to Jaffers, Inner House Facilitator to the House of Ra and requested, "Jaffers
please bring Choc-tea and scones at once."

"I would rather have Eden wine," Dakar confessed, "It has a little more punch to

it, if that would be convenient." He smiled and winked at Nadia.

She laughed and said, "You are absolutely right, Dakar, Eden wine does have

more punch, and for someone with your quiet ways and demeanor," she teased, "you
need all the punch you can get. Make it so Jaffers and I'll have some too."

Dakar laughed outright. “What has become of the reserved, quiet child I was

introduced to three cycles past? I think your body has been possessed by an alien faerie
minx," he finished feeling well pleased and a little smug that she could be so comfortable
in his presence.

"I missed your visit yesterday," he continued, "you and my brother did not have

another fracas, I hope. It seems the two of you cannot be in close proximity for more
than three minutes before sparks collide. With my brother, fracases are all too common
place, except with the female persuasion, of course, but you are always as calm as a
languid pond and as gentle as a soft breeze until you and my brother share the same air. I
have never quite understood that. It is an enigma, yes?"

"It is a very long story and entirely your brother's fault," Nadia replied, the spark

in her eyes still visible. "Enough polite diplomatic chit-chat, Dakar, you would not just
drop in unannounced and therefore, must be on a mission of some sort."

Conversation halted as the proper Jaffers returned with refreshments, then quickly

departed.

"I am crushed you’d think I would not visit for the shear pleasure of your

company, princess, I believed us to be quite good friends and allies," he enjoined
intentionally. He took a long savoring sip of the outstanding wine and played for time,

SHEREM

hoping to prick Nadia’s curiosity. Then added thoughtfully, "This may not work out as
my brother intended if you do not consider me a worthy comrade and are uncomfortable
in my presence."

"Laser it, you buffoon. Speak plainly and quickly before I show you just how

comfortable with you I am and anoint you with the remainder of my wine."

"Spoken like a true faerie minx," Dakar responded with good humor, lowering his

gaze to cloak the steely resolve shining there.

The brothers were similar in appearance on initial meeting, but Nadia had come to

realize they were as different as sunlight and night. Although alike in bone structure and
height, Sherem was broader, darker, and courser with sharper facial planes, and a
brooding sometimes ruthless manner. Dakar sported the grace and sleek lines of a fine
thoroughbred with a playful disposition and affable non-threatening presence. And while
both had pitch-black hair, Sherem’s black eyes exuded menace while Dakar's were a light
gray-blue and seemingly guileless. She wondered at the validity of that sincerity now as
she studied him, waiting for a reply.

He sighed and began. "Sherem has done some checking and determined that your

brother and the others on the Miramid may indeed require assistance. In fact, he grows
concerned, since so much time has elapsed, that speed is of the essence. He has gone on
ahead to do some further checking and has credited me with the task of escorting you to
the planet where he’ll await our arrival. If you are uncomfortable with this solution or
have decided not to accompany him, he will simply continue on to earth. Either way he
will go after your brother," he finished, concern evident in his voice and manner.

Nadia’s head swam; panic and joy warring within her for supremacy. Panic that

Sherem believed her brother and his party to be in danger and joy at finally being let off-
planet. Nadia had been struck with wanderlust five cycles ago when her brother and
Prolinc departed for earth. She’d begged for days to be allowed to accompany them, only
to be told she was too young and the voyage too dangerous for her. Nadia’s entire family
treated her like the most delicate filigree; one small mishandling and she would shatter.
She was sick of it and now had her chance for an off-world adventure with no one around
to say her nay. The aunts could be easily gotten around and Bandoff, Prig Head of the
High Council, need not hear of it until she was well and truly gone. Something, however,
rang false about the offer, coming too easy and happening too fast for her comfort. So

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she proceeded with the practiced calm and cautiousness she’d worn like a cloak all her
life.

"We did not discuss my going along, in the event he decided to make the journey.

Are you sure he approved my accompanying you both? Maybe you misunderstood,
Dakar."

Dakar felt his mask slip a fraction and crossed his long legs while grabbing for his

Eden-wine, taking a large pull before replying. Sherem had not broached the subject of
her accompanying him? That made no sense, surely that was the only reason he’d
consider redirecting one of their mother ships away from Nefar, on a wild goose chase to
Earth or wherever he planned to take her. Dakar was quite sure that Zorroc and the
Miramid were in no danger or the High Council of Gattonia would have sent one of their
own ships to investigate. Obviously, Sherem was merely leading her down the garden
path and had planned to deliver his ultimatum when he arrived with the news of his
assistance. She began studying him dubiously; he must assuage her suspicions.

"How clumsy of me. I assumed that since he spoke of you joining us, the two of

you had already agreed upon it. This is awkward, as he wanted us to depart as soon as
possible, within hours if possible for we are due to meet up with him in five days on a
planet close to earth resting just on the cusp of our galaxy. As we will be traveling by
public convoy, every minute counts. One must wait for available space and we’ll require
a private bunker. I will not expose you to danger, for fear of death at the hands of my
brother," he clarified comically by grabbing his throat and hanging out his tongue.

"Once we have joined him on Jasper, Sherem said he’d try to contact the

Miramid. He wants to confirm the MIA status before executing a galaxy jump to Earth,"
Dakar concluded matter-of-factly.

Nadia closed her eyes, took a deep breath then jumped to her feet. “I’ll be ready

before you finish the carafe of wine.” She flew from the room. Dakar smiled
triumphantly.

With her packing complete Nadia paused, shielding her thoughts from any who

would endeavor to read them. She felt a vague sense of unease; make that a healthy dose
of guilt. She could mind-speak to her aunts to let them know of her plans but she was
afraid they would come rushing home and try to prevent her from leaving. To fortify her
resolve, she mentally replayed her aunt’s reproof from early that morning.

SHEREM

“Nadia, there is nothing we can do or that you can do at this juncture. You have

spent countless hours scanning for any sign of a distress beacon and tried repeatedly to
COM the Miramid—much to the consternation of the High Council. They will not
dispatch another ship to Earth for fear of weakening Gattonian defenses until it can be
confirmed that there is, indeed, a need for assistance. And you know that other than
extreme emergencies, COM silence was to be maintained. It would be a disaster for our
COM transmissions to be intercepted, and with Earth technology advancing so rapidly, it
could happen at any time. The many COMs and probes you transmitted may be zinging
around their universe for years to come, just waiting to be discovered. No wonder the
High Council is put out with you, and refuses to give you another audience, dearling.”

Her Aunt Helen always used the old-fashioned endearment when delivering her

lectures, and was the one who shared the thousands of romance novels she brought back
from her many travels to Earth. Her Aunt Marie was more pragmatic and gruff, pooh-
poohing happily ever after and sweet sentiment. Both had chosen not to mate; instead,
becoming historians, tracking the political progress and cultural changes on Earth,
located a galaxy away. Following the initial Dargon invasion, that all but destroyed the
female population of Gattonia, they were sent to Earth on an assignment even Nadia was
not privy to, then returned two cycles later with a group of Earth women, her new sister
in-law among them—and incredible amounts of new data to assimilate. It seemed to
Nadia that their brains were stuffed with so many facts, that little room remained for
anything else. Like fashion sense…or common sense. She adored them. But if she
sought to get their permission to search for her brother, Marie would start cursing and
Helen would begin crying and…

Hello Aunts,
Sorry I missed you. Jaffers said you would not return until this evening and I was

unable to wait. Sherem has sent for me. We are going after Rocky and the Miramid
immediately, as he is convinced time is of the essence. I love you. Do not worry, all will
be fine.

Nadia.
That evening, Helen and Marie stood staring at the COM screen like two startled

owls, thinking maybe if they blinked enough times the words left by their niece would
somehow morph into another message entirely. It was not to be. "Oh, dear…" Helen
whispered.

Lil Gibson

Chapter Four

Sherem decided to wait until the day before weeks' end to call on Nadia with his

decision. He wanted her flustered and slightly panicked that his answer would be 'no'.
That way, if she had reservations about making the voyage with him, she would be easier
to manipulate to his wishes. He would have his way in this for though he was convinced
that the Miramid could be in danger, there would be no voyage without her onboard. He
was not that altruistic, after all.

Dressed for travel in standard combat attire, he had every intention of leaving

directly from the House of Ra to his ship, the Portender—with Nadia in tow. His shirt
was of the finest linen, his vest, breeches, and over the knee boots were Kameri leather. It
was light, soft and virtually indestructible. Even a direct hit from a blazer could not
penetrate it. The process of curing and enhancing the naturally black leather remained a
well-guarded secret known only to a handful of Nefari. He had dressed in his leathers
everyday since the ambush and possessed several hidden weapons, as well. He would not
be caught unaware again.

As he studied his reflection in the mirror, an inner glow of triumphant satisfaction

shown clearly through his eyes. He had won; she would soon belong to him. As soon as
they departed on their journey, she would be alone with him and his crew and be
hopelessly compromised. And he fully intended to seduce her to make it complete. Not
even her brother would be able to intervene, which led to thoughts of Zorroc…and Rosik,
the captain of the Miramid. Sherem's very good friend. It had taken a lot of heavy-
handed persuasion to get the information he required and when he did, he hadn’t liked
what he heard. Nadia had been right; there was much reason for concern. When he’d
acquired further clarification on the whereabouts and status of the Miramid, a moment of
searing foreboding flooded his mind. How would Nadia survive the loss of her brother
and his family; it would tear her to shreds. And what of Gattonia? It would be left
without a clear leader. It was probably a good thing she would be mated to him. He

SHEREM

would take care of both her and Gattonia if it became necessary. He made his way with
determined strides toward his destiny, the ankou by his side.

Why was Jaffers gaping at him as if he was some sort of specter? Sherem, who’d

arrived at the House of Ra a minute before, had yet to be admitted. "Jaffers let me in. I
am expected by the Princess, I assure you," he stated succinctly while nudging the IHF
aside to gain entrance.

"Jaffers!" he barked once inside. "The Princess…now! I will be in the study."

Was the Inner House Facilitator having a fit of some sort? Sherem made his way down
the hall to the proper panel and entered the family living area to await his future mate.
He grew impatient to be off now that the time was at hand. Surely, by now she’d be
frantic to speak with him. As the minutes passed, Sherem became more and more
restless. He wished he had brought Bran in with him. That would surely have garnered
some action.

He looked up as the panel slid open emitting a muddled disarray of colors, arms,

legs and grunts as the aunts came bobbling into the room as one entity, halting less than a
calabray from him. As the two split apart, straightening hair, skirts, and sweatshirts, they
all stared dumbfounded at one another, clearly unable to form a coherent thought. Helen
recovered first.

"But you can't be here, Sherem, she is with you on her way to Earth. She

departed five days ago, left us a COM saying that you had come for her, packed up and
left right then…why are you here, have you lost her, then?" Helen asked, fingers
twitching, lower lip trembling and eyes beginning to water.

Sherem stood and took both of the round cherubs into his arms, though they only

reached waist high. "Don't worry, we will straighten it all out," he crooned gruffly and
glanced up to focus on Jaffers. "What happened Jaffers, who did she leave with that day,
did you recognize him?"

"No, your highness, but I did hear her call him by name. It was Dakar. She

called him Dakar," he responded softly.

Sherem swayed precariously and thought for a moment that they were doomed for

a hard landing at Jaffer's feet. But he got hold of himself; though feared his dark bronze
complexion had turned the color of mottled cream.

He sat down heavily on the plush seat behind him, locked in his own internal

quagmire. Why would Dakar kidnap Nadia? Was it some kind of twisted revenge for

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their disassociation as brothers? Could he want to compromise Nadia himself so Sherem
would never have her? That would be the most sweeping revenge of all. Surely, he
wouldn't harm her. She was not a part of what transpired between them as brothers and
he honestly thought that Dakar liked her. He shut his eyes, trying to hold in his emotion
and keep the bone chilling fear at bay. He had to think. He looked up and focused on
Jaffers.

"I know you would not listen in on private conversations, Jaffers, but did you by

chance overhear anything that might give us a clue as to his destination or plans?"
Sherem questioned, huskily.

Jaffers almost smiled at the tactful manner in which the Prince phrased the

question, but the truth was that any Inner House Facilitator worth his salt knew
everything that went on in his domain using whatever means at his disposal to learn it.
He answered. "I did not hear Dakar mention a planet by name, but overheard him
explain that you’d gone ahead to a planet closer to Earth but within our galaxy and there
you would try once again to contact the Miramid before making the final commitment to
galaxy jump to Earth's solar system. Dakar said you would be waiting for them," he
concluded, wishing he could be of more help. First Zorroc and now Nadia, what could
they do?

"Thank you, Jaffers; it will be a starting point. Helen, Marie, here is my COM

direction. If you hear from Nadia, get her position, by tracker if she doesn’t know her co-
ordinates. No—by tracker period. Dakar may be misleading her as to their location so
keep the auto track on at all times and capture any incoming transmissions."

* * *

"Where is he, Julius? Where is your golden boy?" Sherem demanded, his voice a

raspy husk of his usual cynical drawl. He had returned to the House of Baraden and
would get the information he demanded or sever his IHF's head from his shoulders, from
the look of him.

"What has happened, my Prince, what is wrong?" Julius implored, his voice not

quite steady. Dakar had been angry, furious really and hurt at his brother's continued
refusal to believe in his innocence of the assassination attempts. Nothing Dakar could
say had swayed his brother in his steadfast belief that his own brother wanted him dead
for political gain. And Sherem's silent accusations were eroding his favorite charge from

SHEREM

the inside out. Julius dreaded to know the extent of the damage done to their relationship.
But he was about to learn.

"Dakar has kidnapped Nadia," Sherem hissed.
Julius sat down with a thump, something no IHF would do in front of their lord.

"What have you done, Dakar. This will not help your cause but weaken it," Julius
mumbled to himself, his hands cradling his face.

"Where is he Julius, you always know what he is up to," Sherem continued,

taking the seat across from him and dragging his hands through his hair impatiently. "I
have checked the roster of departing ships and all are accounted for so he found an
alternate way off the planet, unless he is still here holding the Princess prisoner
somewhere. Talk to me Julius," he demanded with renewed vexation. "He has had her
for five days."

Julius sighed. "I overheard him making travel arrangements the day of the

Princess's visit. I thought he planned to take one of his pleasurers and depart to escape
the tension that has become so thick between you," he admitted. "I would check his
COM; I am quite sure he will want you to find him. Most likely he is just tweaking your
nose, my Prince," Julius concluded, praying that it would be the extent of Dakar's perfidy.

Julius looked like he was withering before Sherem's eyes.
Sherem had not meant for the breach between his brother and himself to infect the

others around them so profoundly, and yet that is what had occurred, everyone choosing
sides against the other. It never should have come to this, and now Nadia was involved
as well. An outsider not of their House and yet drawn into their intrigue. She was so
innocent, so untouched. If anything happened to her physically or emotionally, he did
not know what he might be capable of to avenge her.

* * *

Nadia felt as if she had fallen into a waking dream that no amount of skin

pinching could alter. The planet of Jasper was ornate and opulent. The color scheme of
the land and living structures were similar to Gattonia but the fluid, ornate design of the
buildings were exotically carved and intricately inlaid with colorful reflective tiles that
formed wondrous murals. The people, too, dressed in garb that could only be described
as liquidly rich as a rainbow through a waterfall after a shower and Nadia wanted to
giggle at her own thoughts. She had seen many holos of Jasper but they did not come
close to the reality.

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Her adventure had begun.
Dakar gawked at her fit of tittering and she acknowledged that the sounds of her

delight were foreign to her own ears then let another round escape. So dazzled by her
visual preoccupation, she was unprepared when they were shown directly into Queen
Heptshu’s private receiving rooms and the Queen herself in residence. She was tiny, as
short as Cat, but wide, as if she enjoyed the castle cook’s cooking above all else. And
she was in direct contrast to the other people they had come into contact with, so far. The
people of Jasper had a fluidity of motion in both speech and physical movement. It made
Nadia feel like the proverbial bull in a china shop…but not the Queen. She fairly
charged into the room, clomping purposely with voice booming. She presented such a
stark dichotomy to her subjects Nadia could only stare silently.

“Dakar, you young stud, it is a pleasure to see you again. Can I assume that

Sherem follows close behind? We have business.” The bluntness of her inquiry
surprised Nadia out of her daze. She used no protocol of greeting. It was most unusual.

“You are astute as always, my Queen.” Dakar’s eyes twinkled and he winked as

he added, “And as graciously tactful, as ever. May I present Princess Nadia, sister to
Zorroc, of the House of Ra, province of Gattonia.”

The queen caught and held her gaze. She felt as if the Queen gleaned every

hidden facet of her being. Nadia found it chilling, the affably brash façade masked a
keen intelligence and razor-sharp perception. Little wonder she was the most respected
leader in the galaxy. Only a fool would underestimate her. Finally, she nodded slowly.
“Sherem will take you to mate; it will be a good match.” When Nadia opened her mouth
to protest, the Queen cut her off.

“You will stay in the palace as my guests. Rooms will be set-aside for Sherem

and his party. Patz, show the Prince and Princess to their separate chambers.”

“Not a particularly chatty person, is she?” Nadia whispered under her breath for

Dakar’s ears alone. Dakar grinned.

It had been a long three-day journey to their destination, for public transportation

was slow and there had been many stops along the way. The travel ship consisted of five
levels; the fifth was the luxury dome and was completely transparent. The view
mesmerized Nadia on the first night but eventually became monotonous containing
endless star systems and planets twinkling through the black void. People watching,
however, provided a constant source of fascination. For though she was highly educated

SHEREM

and familiar with the varying species occupying the many planets within the universe, the
ability to observe them first hand rather than by octi-view proved a treat beyond compare.

Nadia marveled at the many diverse cultures; each with their own language, and

comportment; and all jammed into one, gigantic travel machine. Dakar allowed her to
wander unfettered but kept her within seeing distance and remained loosely protective
allowing no one direct contact with her. It was frustrating but understandable. If
anything happened to her, he explained for the hundredth time, Sherem would terminate
him and he had no desire to expire so young. They now occupied a suite of rooms,
courtesy of Queen Heptshu of the planet, Jasper.

The Zinn galaxy had grown closer in the cycles since the Dargon’s attack on

Gattonia. There bloomed new understanding, camaraderie, and trust between the diverse
cultures inhabiting the planets in and around their galaxy. The Jasperi, though small of
stature, possessed an air of relaxed grace and effortless competence that had been a balm
to the Gattonians in the face of the Dargon invasion. Jasper was a pivot point to
numerous planets and star systems, being on the very edge of their galaxy. All knew it as
a planet of peace and pleasure. Pleasure for the mind, the soul, and the body. They were
an overtly sensual people with a subtle, nurturing manner and they used their bodies as no
other humanoid life form known. They flowed with perpetual grace of motion in speech,
thought and manner. There were no sharp expressions of speech, raised voices, or
aggressive outbursts; and no clumsy, unplanned movements. It was a part of their ‘state
of being’, their philosophy of life practiced from the moment of birth if not before. They
were a people of absolute control and coordination, fluidity, and grace in thought and
deed. Chaos and conflict, hatred and aggression were totally foreign to their intrinsic
discipline. Their non-confrontational philosophy had in the past threatened their
existence and was the way an alliance had initially been formed between the peoples of
Jasper and Ganz. The warriors of Nefar had come to the defense of the Jasperi on more
than a few occasions and deterred more aggressive species from taking advantage of what
appeared to be easy pickings of a people and planet. A very well positioned and
prosperous planet. Sherem was a hero of the Jasperi and so revered that he’d been
awarded a precious gift in the form of Tula, great-granddaughter of the Queen and now
known as 'Sherem's Gift'. The gift Nadia had seen gifting Sherem with her mouth.

Nadia felt like a child in eye-candy-land. Something new to see, experience or

taste bombarded her senses at every turn. She’d spent many markers on diverse

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purchases from decadent arrays of exotic foods and spirits to mind-freeing-meditation
instruction and massage therapy. She had received multiple invitations to extend the
services to include lessons in the Kama Sutra or a mind to body link they called "The
Seeding" but, of course, she refused. She would leave those particular teachings to her
future mate. The thought of Sherem touching her like the animation advertisements seen
on every corner, forced a shudder of awareness.

She visited the markets and purchased wondrous offerings of fine arts and gifts

for everyone in her family. Even Sherem. A particular house jacket of soft textured
quill, a rare material impossible to reproduce artificially, caught her attention. It was the
color of black smoke and superbly cut with silver piping that would highlight the thin
iridescent gray that outlined the pupils of his black eyes. It would also accentuate his
very broad shoulders and tapered waist. After she completed her purchase, she felt self-
conscious and a little embarrassed by the intimacy of the gift but did not return it. He
was, after all, spending vast amounts of funds and time to assist her and her family. The
very least she owed him was a simple gesture of thanks. If she pondered the way it
would feel to be the jacket and have leave to caress and mold herself to his torso, well,
who would be the wiser?

Dakar kept her entertained and behaved overly solicitous, but a growing

uneasiness crept its way into her consciousness making her wonder if she might be a
pawn in some unpleasant game Dakar precipitated. Where was Sherem? Surely if he
knew she’d arrived, he wouldn’t have kept her waiting all this time and in the company
of his brother. She was aware of the rivalry between them but not the reason behind it. It
was time for some answers; she would not be put off further.

Nadia stood, hands on hips, head tilted and eyes narrowed, measuring Dakar as if

for the first time. "You said your brother would be waiting to meet us here, but two days
have passed and still there is no Sherem. I am beginning to smell a monzu, Dakar. Is
there something you would like to confess, I hear it is very beneficial to your inner
sanctum of grace," Nadia advised as she crossed her arms below her breasts and tapped
her foot in time to her internal rhythm.

Dakar's affable expression changed for an instant, revealing a granite-etched

coldness that chilled Nadia, as though the temperature had dropped twenty degrees. Then
his face cleared and the Dakar she had come to know in the last days resurfaced. Had she
imagined that look?

SHEREM

"Nadia, you wound me. Have I not given you your hearts desire and taken you

exploring to a far off planet? Have I not kept you safe for my brother? How can you
doubt me?"

"Actually, I find it quite easy. Why hasn't Sherem requested to speak with me?

Does he trust you so far that he would leave me in your company for days? I am not
completely cut off from the goings-on around me, I have heard the rumors that all is not
well between you and Sherem. You would not use me in some ploy to strike at your
brother, would you Dakar?"

At Dakar's blank, semi-wounded look, she faltered. He had been most gracious

toward her; what exactly was she accusing him of? Had her imagination run away with
her once again? She would contact the aunts and the House of Baraden as soon as they
returned to the castle, just to be sure. She knew Queen Heptshu's people would be more
than happy to assist her. Dakar began pulling and guiding Nadia down a well-traveled
food court like some sort of a demented jester, then seated her at a cozy table outside a
café. He called out for certain specialty refreshments, and did his best to avoid Nadia's
not so subtle accusations.

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Chapter Five

Dakar’s stomach clenched at the coming confession. He had enjoyed himself

tremendously in the last week. The warmth and camaraderie he and Nadia shared, made
him feel almost whole, again. After he explained all, would she turn on him like
everyone else? And, if he dreaded this coming confrontation, the one he was sure to have
with his brother at weeks' end intimidated him even more. In truth, he’d given precious
little thought to snatching Nadia right from under Sherem's control. But the day before
the princess's visit, he and Sherem engaged in yet another round of shouting that, for the
first time, preceded from mildly veiled insinuation to blatant accusation, and then turned
physical. If not for the six-foot long monster, always at his brothers' side, they might
have done real damage to one another. The playful camaraderie always present in their
former bouts of rousting vanished. This time it escalated to purposeful injury and Dakar
found himself at a loss to curb his anger and frustration at his brothers' lack of trust in
him. But what and how much to tell Nadia?

He sighed and leveled her with a look that bore no resemblance to his normally

non-threatening, affable good humor. "There have been numerous attacks on Sherem's
life in the last two cycles." He did not pause at Nadia's gasp of distress but continued on
doggedly. "At first the attempts seemed more prankish than deadly, but that changed
when the last two attempts almost cost him his life.

"Eight moons ago his micro-jet careened into a mountain, with him in it, after

someone tampered with the hydraulics. His warrior reflexes saved that day him but he
spent long hours in the med-tech unit being knitted back together. The most deadly
attack, however, occurred several moons later when he traveled to the northern mountains
of Nefar where the Horta reside. It was to be a routine meeting with their chieftain.

"Have you heard of these people and their connection to your own lands?" Dakar

asked and then cleared his throat and took a pull on his jive.

SHEREM

"Oh, yes, I know of them. They are reputed to be quite child-like and primitive.

A law unto themselves. It is my understanding that aside from Macronadin mining, they
also assist in the processing of the Assyllis plants we export to you. Your government, in
turn, exports the product to approved vendors in the correct proportions. I believe it has
been quite a profitable and expedient arrangement."

"Yes," he paused as if in pain. "Well, as usual Sherem made the journey on his

horse but on the return trip a rogue tribe of Horta ambushed, beat and almost killed him.
A massive mythical beast intervened and came to his aide. The animal has not left his
side since."

"Zazu, Dakar, that does not seem in the least plausible. An animal? A beast?

Why would an animal want to save Sherem and why would the Horti wish him harm?
He has improved their living conditions immensely. If this is one of your stories, Dakar,
I find it in very poor taste. Your brother's life is nothing to jest about; I am disappointed
in you," Nadia chided as she studied him for the truth, as if it would shine right through
his eyes.

It did.
No one could fake the anguish stamped clearly on his features. What was

happening? "Why wasn't I told about any of this? Does my brother know?" she leaned
forward and demanded. Her heart lurched precariously as she contemplated a world
without Sherem.

"It is being kept under wraps for the most part so I doubt if your brother has been

informed. To be honest, my dear, I am not being kept in the loop…for you see, you are
looking at the suspected mastermind behind these attempts."

Nadia could not credit this latest revelation. Was he demented? Had he just

sprung the last rung on his latter? Dakar looked crestfallen and devastated. In addition,
he studied her warily, as if he expected her to heap her own accusations onto the rest.
She reached over and squeezed his hand before standing and pulling him up with her.
"This is not the place for our discussion," she concluded and led him back toward the
palace.

Since their departure from Gattonia, they had developed a bond of friendship

similar to one she shared with Prolinc. She’d practically been raised by him and her
brother, and tended to be more at ease with males. And as afternoon passed into evening
and Dakar talked on, they became even closer. He confided his feelings of isolation and

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censure by those of his family and friends; the suspicious glances that followed him as
though at any moment he would sprout horns and hooves and begin spewing acid. He
felt angry, confused, and afraid…afraid that whoever was after his brother would
succeed, afraid that he would be accused and condemned to die; and lastly terrified for
his youngest brother, his father, and his province for the upheaval it would cause. He felt
immersed in a black pit.

After a sleepless night Nadia contacted her aunts to reassure them of her safety

and whereabouts, then requested a patch to the Portender. She was informed of his
eminent arrival on the landing grid of Jasper and on his way to her.

When her panel buzzed immediately afterward, she expected Sherem. She was

surprised and a little panicked to see Dakar.

"He's on his way, Dakar, and liable to be just the slightest bit put out with you and

your little joke. So try to be a little conciliatory and less defensive, and maybe just a little
scarcer, until I can speak with him and get this all sorted out.

"It won't work, these days my brother trusts no one but the mangy beast glued to

his side. Every time I get near Sherem, he growls."

"Which one, the beast, or your brother?" Nadia asked innocently, hoping for a

little levity to defuse the incredible tension mounting in Dakar. "Come Dakar; be easy,
I'm sure that deep inside your brother realizes you could never set out to harm him. Just
give him some time to work everything out in his mind. You know it occurs to me, that
if you have been pulling these kinds of pranks since your return; you are partly
responsible for the soup you find yourself in today. If you had talked to him, explained,
I'm sure…"

She felt a stirring of air and the hair at the back of her neck rose. A sure

indication Sherem had arrived. Nadia caught his particular scent and found it difficult to
remain still, especially since she was still raw over learning how close she had come to
losing him—could still lose him. He brushed past her without giving her a second look,
barked out "Guard" to the beast that had materialized before her, and “Stay” to Nadia
herself, before continuing across the room toward Dakar. Nadia faced his retreating
back, and silently mimicked “Guard” and “Stay” while rolling her eyes, hands on hips.
So much for her welcome, he’d not even given her a glancing acknowledgement as he
passed.

SHEREM

Bran focused on the female with a silent promise that clearly warned her not to

budge, then glanced at the bludgeoning scene taking place across the room. “It is quite
unnecessary to spout one word commands, Sherem, for though I lack the vocal apparatus
to speak your tongue, I have become quite fluent as to the nuances and meanings behind
your language,” Bran informed Sherem in mind-speak. “Further, I do not enjoy being
ordered about in words of one syllable and neither, it appears, does your mate.” Sherem
paused to congratulate him on his newly mastered articulations before catching a
punishing fist in his face for his inattentiveness. “Oomph,” he emitted before toppling
like a blown-over obelisk. Dakar studied his fist in bewilderment.

Nadia decided the floor was probably the safest place for her warrior, for the

moment, and concentrated on the beast. At least three times her weight, and his head on
a level with her chest, he was quite the most prodigious creature she’d ever seen. She
absently noted that sitting as he was now he would probably be eye level with her sister-
in-law who could not be more than five feet and scant inches. She squatted in front of
him letting his height top hers and inquired. “And what words of welcome have you for
me, my majestic beast, since your master seems to be rendered speechless for once? I
know who you are, you know. Dakar has spoken of you. He is very grateful to you for
saving his brother." He remained impassive except for a warning growl when she made a
move toward the brothers. An alternate tact was in order, she decided. "You are such a
brave, handsome fellow; I bet you could use a little attention. Your friend is not much
for praise or appreciation which I am sure you have noted." She began to scratch behind
his ears and continued her patter of praise and petting.

Bran grew distinctly uncomfortable. Never had he failed to put the fear of death

into humans, why was this one speaking to him as if he were a small cub yet to come into
his fangs? He roared telepathically to Sherem for assistance and startled him awake as if
he had been shot from a cannon.

After eyeing his brother grudgingly, Sherem turned his attention to the distressed

ankou and his future mate. Why wasn't she cowering in a corner or crying to him for
assistance? He approached the two with a telling look of disgust.

"Leave off him, misulu; he is a killing beast, not some pet to be cooed over. You

are embarrassing him. If you want to give your attention to someone then attend me," he
growled and grabbed her arm, yanked her to him and proceeded to squeeze the air out of
her. She wanted to tell him that she much preferred being greeted first, instead of last,

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but she was being simultaneously squished and soaked by a combination of his sweat and
banded steel arms. She didn't truly mind, as long as she didn't lose consciousness by the
death grip he held her in.

Sherem shook with the pent-up anxiety he’d been holding inside since the

discovery of Nadia’s kidnapping. He knew he held her too tightly but couldn't seem to
stop, and there were things he must learn. He checked the base of her gently sloping
neck, relieved to see no mating mark. It made her his for the taking and he relaxed his
hold marginally.

"Did he harm you, misulu, did he frighten you?" Sherem demanded gruffly. He

saw the combination of anger and frustration that crossed Dakar’s face before he stormed
from the room and laid in a command for Bran to follow his movements.

"No. He was perfectly charming," she grumbled into his chest, "more charming

than you, certainly."

"We will discuss later why you did not contact me immediately to let me know of

your location and safety, but first things first." He stepped away from her, grabbed her
left hand, and slapped a band on to her wrist. It immediately molded itself flush against
her skin. Sherem could tell she recognized it for what it was. Her sister-in-law had one
similar to it. He noted her mounting distress and the effort she exerted to temper her
unfolding destiny, like a flower blooming at the will of the sun. The first stirrings of her
changed circumstance, the knowledge that she was ensnared. The powerful tracking
band guaranteed he would always know her location…it also served as a band of
possession.

"I know what this is, Sherem, and there is no need for it. I am here, I am safe, and

I am prepared to depart with you whenever you are ready. I would have contacted you
sooner but Dakar said he stayed in daily contact with you and that you were detained with
the last minute details of our journey. I did not learn the truth until last night. You are
over reacting, Sherem, your brother loves you and you are doing him a disservice by
withholding your trust," Nadia alleged while trying to loose the band from her wrist.

"And what of the disservice he has done me, female? He stole what belonged to

me." He gently wrapped his giant hand around her wrist to halt her attempts to dislodge
it.

"Oh, and what was that? Not a ship because we arrived by public transport, and

not your clothing because yours are too large and muted for your exuberant brother. So

SHEREM

unless he stole the house jewels, he took absolutely nothing that belonged to you except
possibly your over-inflated ego. Now get this band off of me!" Nadia insisted as she
wiggled her wrist ineffectively with a mutinous set to her chin.

He wanted to laugh at her blustery attempts to wound him, noticing all at once her

changed appearance. She seemed more radiantly alive than he had yet to see her. Her
hair cut and styled to emphasize her eyes now shown like Amber beacons, vividly
infused with her adventures of the past week. They fairly sparked and winked at him.
He was also drawn to the plains of her face. Her high cheekbones had shed all traces of
baby fat revealing the beguiling plains of a sculpted goddess. Was his brother
responsible for the glow radiating from her?

"He stole my piece of mind and my sanity when I realized you were missing.

You look well, Nadia. Have I my brother to thank?" His eyes pierced hers with the
inhuman glow of a feral demon set on his prey.

Nadia ignored the warning evident in his quiet inquiry. He was finally with her

and they would soon be on their way to save her brother and family. As stimulating as
she found her adventures on Jasper, she grew impatient to be on their way to earth and
the Miramid. But first she needed to further the cause of Dakar, convince Sherem of his
loyalty and goodness, and extol upon the great care he had taken of her. "Yes, you do as
a matter of fact,” she assured him. He took me to a Temple Fluerevitae and paid for a
complete treatment. I'm sure you are aware that 'Fluerevitae' is practiced here. I have
been unable to determine if it is an actual religion, a philosophy, or just a way of living,
but the temples cater to every part of a person. It was wholly decadent." She closed her
eyes and tilted her head back, revealing a slight mysterious smile.

Her expression artlessly, achingly sensual turned his to stone. Sherem was

definitely going to kill his brother. What had he been thinking to take her to a place like
that? Most temples were no more than glorified houses of pleasure where sexual favors
of all kinds were pursued. And he was familiar with almost all of them. It was where he
and Rosik had first met and shared the many available pleasures together. At one time,
they shared three females for a full session lasting five hours. It had been erotic and
satisfying but he still preferred his sexual dealings one on one. His attention focused
again on Nadia as he continued to listen for anything amiss. So far, her little adventure
seemed harmless enough. She prattled on about her hair; nails, face and body paint and
but then she mentioned body massage.

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"Where did they touch you?" he demanded, interrupting her so suddenly she

paused to examine his now ferocious demeanor.

“Touch me? Why is your face turning red? Sherem, surely you have heard of a

massage. They knead your muscles and pressure points allowing your body to breathe
and relax.”

"Where…did…they…knead...you…misulu?" he asked with equal softness.
"Oh, all right!" she spat. "They kneaded my arms, my neck, my shoulders and

back, my legs and then the most exquisite place of all," she paused with a small moan.

He would torture his brother for weeks. He could see him now. Hung…upside

down by his feet.

"My feet," Nadia said at the precise moment his mind was picturing Dakar's, so

that he did not quite grasp her message.

"Feet?"
"Yes, it was positively sinful. Surely, you have been to these houses and cared

for by their staff. If you have not, I insist on taking you myself before we depart here. It
will lift your mood, invigorate your organs, and pleasure your soul. Actually, I think you
could benefit from their services right this moment. I will take you to the establishment I
attended…"

"Nadia, I have been to the temples many times and while I found their

administrations to be quite comprehensive, I would now rather my needs be taken care of
by you." Sherem took a step closer to Nadia, his eyes glowing like hot molten lava,
pouring into her, heating her from the inside out.

Nadia cleared her throat and stated what she considered to be the obvious. "I

don't know, Sherem, those professionals train for years to acquire their expertise. I don't
think I could be nearly as effective," she gulped. A fire seemed to ignite within the lava.

"I am sure it will come to you," he assured her as he closed the distance between

them then cradled her face in his massive hands preparing her for his kiss.

"Sherem," she yelped nervously. “We must first discuss your brother. You need

to listen to him. He is not the one trying to harm you." Sherem grunted his disbelief.
“You must think logically and not as a barbarian for once, someone is trying to kill you
and you are letting your testosterone and groundless assumptions get the better of you,
it’s silly.”

SHEREM

“You are a naïve female spouting nonsense you know naught about and if there is

one who is silly in this room it is not me.”

“Oh, you can be so pig-headed," she groaned.
"Now I am pig-headed. Now I am silly," he said with deadly calm. "You never

have said these words to me before. Look to yourself, female and tell me who is the one
not thinking logically.”

His mouth crashed down onto hers, roughly parting her lips mercilessly

plundering the depths of her moist cavity. Nadia, caught wholly unaware, could only
buffet the heady waves of their combined passion. Only once before had he taken her
so—their very first kiss had been a taking, a possession—before he had discovered she
was Zorroc’s sister. Since then, he had been tentative and careful as if she were spun
glass. Those days, it seemed were at an end. The barbarian had returned in full force.
As quickly as the branding had begun, it ceased, and when Nadia opened her leaden
eyelids, he’d vanished.

He was right, of course; only someone with a death wish would call a Nefari

warrior silly and pigheaded.

As Sherem flew down the hallway, Bran fell soundlessly into step having left

Dakar in his chambers. Though he had only observed his friend with his future mate on
two occasions, the human rituals of securing a mate stunned him. Bran was in his first
years, a pup, and he pondered the misery, frustration, and self-recriminations that flooded
Sherem’s mind with his every encounter of Nadia. He had witnessed him take on thirty
Horta with less exertion, why put himself to such torture? He was a warrior; why not just
take her? “Sherem, why do you waste time with this one, you should find another who is
less trouble,” Bran advised.

“I would if I could, believe me Bran.” Sherem paused, gathering his thoughts in

an effort to explain. He could read the ankou’s concern and protective instincts rising to
the fore and didn’t want Bran seeking to rid Sherem of his frustrations by eating his
intended. “To the Nefar, the quest for our other half, our misulu, is a most important
undertaking for if we do not find her in this carnation, we must content ourselves by other
means. The begetting of heirs from multiple mates with superior bloodlines. No matter
how inviting that prospect may seem, it makes for a lonely existence. When we find our
eternity match, she fills a chasm in our soul and in our heart that no other can fill. Nadia
is my blood, the voice in my head, and the missing piece that completes me. There is

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room for no other; therefore, I do what I must to win her. I find the alternative
unthinkable. Someday, when you meet a female that fires your blood you will
understand but until that day, know that protecting my mate is more imperative than my
own, for I am not sure I could live without her.”

“Very well, I will not eat her.” The comment was followed by much canine

snickering; Bran finally found a use for human humor. The horrified look on his friend’s
face was its own reward.

SHEREM

Chapter Six

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with our council. We are quite at our wits'

end with this situation and instead of leveling off or improving; it grows faster and
deadlier by the hour. Two hundred deaths from overdose were caused by this new drug
last week alone. It must stop, 'Jasper's Hero', it must stop," Horrus pleaded urgently
while bowing repeatedly in fluid subservience that Sherem found obnoxious and
unnecessary. Bowing and scraping could not be appropriate behavior for a counselor to
the Queen but Horrus had ever been thus when in his company. Sherem didn't know if it
was because of the way he towered over most of the Jasperi or if it was just Horrus's
nature. Either way he found the gnat hard to tolerate.

"Oh, put a stopper in it Horrus and don't speak again until you're spoken to!"

Queen Heptshu barked as she entered the meeting room flanked with more bobbing,
bowing counselors and retainers. Sherem thought he heard her mumble under her breath,
"Surrounded by a bunch of lily-livered wimps, is what I am." It was one of the things he
liked most about this tiny irascible tyrant; she came across as the polar opposite in
demeanor and speech to the devotees of Fluerevitae though it was purported that she
created the ‘path of life’.

The Queen had 'requested' Sherems presence to discuss a new threat to the people

of Jasper and their visiting guests. "Not going to beat around the bush, Remy, we’ve got
a deteriorating situation here and could use your special brand of assistance," she began
to explain.

“A drug is being smuggled onto the planet called 'Angel's Gate'. A combination

aphrodisiac, hallucinogen, and amphetamine; it addicts instantly with lethal
consequences. From the first dose, the drug begins to build up in the user's system.
Ninety percent is actively absorbed while the body stores the other ten percent. The more
the drug is ingested, the more the body stores until overdose—most times lethal.”

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The Queen continued with mortality figures and the steps Jasper had taken to halt

importation, all with failed results. It was chilling. Sherem would rather face an army of
Dargons than this invisible stealer of souls.

The problem was clear but not his role. They were warriors not drug enforcers.
Sherem ran his fingers through his hair while debating a reply. Queen Heptshu,

understanding his quandary, superceded him. “Though we consider this to be one of the
hardest wars we have faced, I do realize it is not the job of Nefar to enforce our internal
laws. We seek your help for quite another reason, my friend.

"When our scientists broke down the drug, one ingredient was particularly

familiar to us—Assyllis," she finished pointedly.

"You are sure? There can be no mistake?" Sherem asked leaning forward over

the table.

"We are sure. We may not have the hotsy-totsy scientists they sprout in Gattonia

but we can certainly recognize Assyllis when we see it. Many of the properties are not
known to us and of course we can't be certain how it's processed but Assyllis is a prime
proponent and easy to distinguish. We know that Nefar processes ninety-five percent of
all Assyllis exported and so we concluded that whoever is manufacturing this killing tool
is purchasing it from you." She stopped to let Sherem assimilate what she had divulged
so far. She and her council had been dealing with this problem for close to a year
weighing the possible fallout and pondering future options. Sherem had been given an
hour.

"There’s a saying I'm sure is familiar to you; follow the credits,” Sherem mused.

"I believe in this case, we will follow the Assyllis. I will go back in our records these last
moons and track the quantities being distributed to each vendor and look for increases or
accelerated frequency of orders; anything suspicious. In addition, I will contact the High
Council of Gattonia and make them aware of the problem. I’m sure their hotsy-totsy
scientists will be interested." Sherem strove to hide his amusement but a slight quirk
appeared at the corner of his mouth, exposing his dimple. "Do you have some of this
poison I can take back with me and turn over to the Bio-chemistry Consortium located in
Gattonia? They should be able to break it down further and give us a clearer picture of
what we are dealing with in addition to learning the remaining components that may
point to the possible manufacturers."

SHEREM

"Of course, and thank you for the assistance, it was more than we had hoped for,"

the Queen offered sincerely before closing the meeting and excusing her council leaving
the two leaders alone.

"Headi," he mused, employing the nickname only used when they were alone. "I

would like two vials; one containing the drug and another containing a placebo. The
placebo I will entrust to our Med-tech center held in a secure location, while the other I
will keep with me, hidden. I will take no chances and unless our ship is destroyed, I will
see it personally delivered into the hands of the scientists. My only regret is that I cannot
depart immediately. My first obligation lies with the Gattonian princess. I do thank you
for your trust in this matter," Sherem concluded, bowing in the formal manner of the
Jasperi.

"Don't get polite on me now, Remy. I want to discuss some additional facts you

need to be aware of and then I have a surprise for you and your crew before you depart
our planet."

* * *

"You will not attend in that, that garb," Sherem stated forcefully.
"Your entire crew will be attending the masque and though Jasper is known for

their costume balls, the costume selection is not limitless; plus I am quite a bit taller than
the people here, a veritable giant, if you will. This is all they had in my size."

"It is the garb of a pleasurer."
"It is just a costume."
"You will not go as my…my inamorata. I will not have it."
"Oh, that's right, you all ready have one. We’ve met."
"You have not met, you glimpsed her, and if you had not…"
"Glimpsed! I got an eye full—two eyes. Now get out; I will attend alone!"
"You will not go alone; you will attend with your mate."
"I do not have a mate, you do not have a mate; all you have is a pleasurer. Too

bad she did not accompany you on your ship as I am sure she makes a much better
pleasurer than I."

Sherem flinched inwardly because Tula had accompanied him to Jasper. She had

stowed aboard the Portender and when discovered, swore she wanted no trouble for him,
but only to see her matriarch, the Queen. What was Sherem to reply? When he thought
about it, he concluded it would be a good way to return her to her people. Two females

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in the same House would likely escalate into a war zone; his future mate did not seem the
type to share. In the end, Nadia might use it as a way to deny his suit. Yes, tomorrow
would see the parting of Sherem from his ‘gift’. He focused his attention back on his
impending mate and studied the “costume” in more detail.

The outer layer was a sheer sarong that caught at one shoulder and floated

downward to bare feet adorned with jewels on each toe. The under layer, Zazu, he was
breaking into a sweat—the under layer, too, gathered at one shoulder and was sheer,
sheer enough to delineate her areolas and ended just below her breasts. From there hung
a wall of intricately beaded strings from every color of the rainbow, always in motion,
making gentle music as they brushed against each other. And when she moved toward
him, the beads played peek-a-boo with her body exposing portions of her ribs, abdomen,
hips, legs and…everything! He would not be able to keep his hands off her. At any
given moment he would lose his last bead of sanity, throw her down and use those strings
for the purpose they were intended. He could not let her out of his sight…what was he
thinking…out of the room, he meant, and unleash her onto the masque. He hopelessly
raised his eyes to hers and tried to follow the jist of what she was telling him.

"…If we were on Gattonia," she explained, "or one of our mother ships, I could

just conjure something appropriate, but your ship is void of the merest convenience and
here they have only pre-made clothing from natural fiber."

"The Portender was built for combat not luxury,” he bristled. No one insulted his

ship. “Could you not wear something underneath to cover you from roaming eyes?"
Like his?

"It would ruin the line of the dress and no longer be what it is," she pointed out

logically.

He was a dead male.
She won in the end. He would just cover her body with his to prevent her from

being viewed. He groaned. It would be a very long evening.

Nadia watched Sherem stride purposely across the entertainment hall, eating up

the distance between himself and the royal party he’d been summoned to attend. His cat-
like gait exposed the rippling muscles of his thighs. She stared, mesmerized. He had
worn the jacket she purchased for him and looked more panther than Nefari. His black
mane flowed half way down his back, a perfect match for the black material stretched
across his broad shoulders. The silver piping in the coat emphasized the ring around his

SHEREM

pupils. Without that faint ring, his feline-shaped eyes would look almost demonic with
no relief between the black of his pupil and that of his iris. The first time he focused
those eyes on her she had felt hypnotized, as a snake would freeze its prey. The feeling
had not abated in the three cycles she’d known him. His beard accented the firm set of
his mouth, the taut plains of his chiseled cheekbones and sharp almost hawk-like nose.
The scar on his forehead that dissected his left eyebrow and disappeared into his hairline,
made him look even more lethal. His features were hard and uncompromising like the
rest of him. Her beads shimmered in reaction.

The masque proved a glittering affair. A couple hundred of the Portender's crew

attended, clearly delighting in the evening’s festivities. Sheer rainbows of silk draped
ceiling and walls, creating a dreamy wonderland effect in the massive hall. It was
magical evening. Sherem stayed by her side and was stingy with his introductions. She
felt like a coveted toy that he had no intention of sharing. He’d refused to dance with her
or let anyone dance with her and she suspected he would prefer she stand statue still as to
not jiggle her beaded streams. But he fed her an array of delicacies and catered to all
other requests.

Dakar came to stand beside her, looking quite imposing in a long flowing, mid-

night colored robe complete with hood, which hid his features and hair completely.

"How are you faring, Dakar?" Nadia murmured.
"Better than expected, I delivered more than I sustained this round. A feat that

continues to baffle me actually. Perhaps he is beginning to question the theories
ricocheting about the House of Baraden. Of course, he hasn't looked at or spoken to me
either.

“That outfit makes you absolutely glow,” Dakar commented, a twinkle surfacing

in his eyes. “I am sure it probably caught my brother's attention quite neatly."

"It did. He hated it!"
"Surely, he did not say so."
"He demanded I take it off."
"Not at all the same thing, I should think." Dakar hid his guffaw behind a cough.
"Males! Try to elevate your thoughts north of your waist, if you please," she

quipped while studying the movements of their hosts. “Have you noticed how the Jasperi
don’t seem to walk so much as float? It’s almost spooky. Most of the females are attired
similarly to me but their beaded strands never seem to separate but flow like a gentle

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waterfall around them. How do they do it? I’ve been trying to emulate the way they
move all evening but my bead-streams seem to jerk apart with even the smallest breath.
I’m concerned that your brother may have noticed,” she finished distractedly.

Dakar, dead sure his brother had noticed, pursed his lips firmly shut to prevent the

laugh threatening to burst forth like repeating rounds of ammunition.

Nadia’s attention suddenly fastened across the hall and Dakar followed her gaze

to the female talking with his brother. Zazu, it couldn't be. Sherem could not be that
brainless. The female kneeled at Sherem's feet, holding fast to his calves and speaking
quickly, obviously begging for something. The female was Tula and his brother—
forever without his mate judging from the haunted look on Nadia’s face. She swayed
beside him and he grabbed hold of her waist to steady her.

Sherem moved to conceal Tula’s identity from Nadia while curtly dealing with his

former pleasurer. "You cannot accompany me to earth, little one, the journey will be
long, and my mate on board with me. Nadia would be more than displeased by your
presence and I will not be the cause of her upset." He already had one person intent on
his demise; he did not need his mate bent on it as well. Tula caused the scene on
purpose, he knew, for if her grandmother and the other royals witnessed him rejecting
her, they would lose face. It would be considered a blatant insult. He had best get both
of them out of there fast before it evolved into an intergalactic incident. His face, an
unreadable mask, whisked Tula to her feet and away from the hall.

No other explanation fit; he was born to humiliate her. Nadia was sure of it, as

she tried to keep the shock from showing in her expression and body language. She had
once again begun to think of him in terms of her mate. Had been daydreaming more and
more frequently since her request for assistance. She was a fool, a dolt but he; he
personified the lowest form of belly slime crawler! A monzu, a Syphor, a spawn!
Fortunately, she found out before the lifemating instead of being stuck with the foul error
for the rest of her life. She would use him to save her brother, but roll over in her grave
before allowing him to leg-shackle her. When she was able to focus her mind outward,
the first thing she registered was the look of concern on Dakar's face. He had relegated
his hood to its resting-place down his back. She was grateful for his presence and his
friendship. She would be sorely in need of both in the moons to come.

SHEREM

"Dakar, it's not as bad as all that." Her beads vibrated in a parody of her

emotions, putting a lie to her words. "Would you see me to my chambers? I am quite
fatigued." She turned and quit the room.

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Chapter Seven

Ensconced in his allotted suite of rooms, having shed himself of Tula, at least for

the moment, Sherem pondered which situation needed addressing first. He had to
convince the Queen to take back her great-granddaughter—permanently. He needed a
course of action to investigate the drug responsible for killing so many and discover the
mastermind behind it, while absent from his home for the next few moons. He must stay
alive and catch his assassin. Finally, he must discern how to locate Nadia’s brother and
tether said sister to his side for all time.

His role as a warrior and leader held far fewer complications than the ones to

which he now aspired. Lifemate to Nadia, detective in charge of missing persons and
drug-trafficing, and trapping his would be murderer. Normally, he would have delegated
the investigation of drug trafficking to his brother, Dakar, who had trained his entire life
to such a role. But alas, until he unmasked the assassin, the less Dakar knew of his
business, the safer for all concerned. Did Sherem truly believe his brother capable of
such treachery? No—which made it all the more plausible. He sighed and activated the
COM unit in front of him deciding Angels Gate the most expedient beginning.

After the final confrontation with the Dargons three cycles past, which freed the

Gattonians from sure extinction; Zorroc and the High Council of Gattonia rewarded
Nefar with the processing and distribution of Assyllis. This proved a powerful boon to
the economy of Nefar and solidified Sherem’s popularity and justification toward his
eventual assent to the throne of Nefar. Ironically, “Sherem’s Gift” also referred to this
new venture for it was seen as his gift to the people of Nefar. It allowed older soldiers to
retire with their lives and mates while still maintaining a decent income and remaining a
contributing part of society. It also gave a safer avenue toward self-sufficiency for those
less adept at combat. The later category fit Gannet, an old friend and classmate of
Sherem’s. So it led, that he assigned Gannet the role of organizing and implementing the
massive effort. He’d excelled admirably; thus his title of Procurement Minister.

SHEREM

“I wish you would decease with the title, Gannet, I fail to see why you should

show customary respect at this late date,” Sherem pointed out after reaching his friend, a
grin apparent in his message.

“One never knows when all this power might go to your head, my Prince. I am

only erring on the side of caution,” Gannet replied in kind.

“I am sure when that time arrives, you will take great glee in correcting the

misconception of my superiority.

“I need your help,” Sherem said quietly, his voice losing all humor. “And it is not

a pretty story.” He explained the situation, confident that Gannet could deduce the
ramifications for himself and their people.

“Angels Gate must close, Remy, I understand and will begin inquiries

immediately. It could be very bad for Nefar if the situation continued, though I am
confident our people are innocent of involvement,” Gannet responded. “It indeed would
prove an economical disaster to lose all that had been granted to us three short cycles
ago.”

Sherem almost snorted at the word “short”. They had been interminably long for

him. That marked the starting point of his pursuit of Nadia. The one now at an end.
“Thank you, Gannet.” Sherem paused, wondering if anything further could be set into
motion, then grinned. “Contact my Uncle Kindarak. With his non-stop travels, he may
have heard of this Angels Gate and provide us with valuable information as to the faction
responsible. COM end.” Sherem terminated transmission and pressed visual on Nadia’s
chambers.

It was empty.
He checked Dakar’s to find it empty, as well. Surely, the masque had ended some

time ago. Where was she and worse, had she witnessed the scene with Tula? He cursed
and activated the tracking device on Nadia’s new bracelet. She had fled castle grounds.

"What have you learned, Bran Beast?" Sherem asked distractedly, studying the

screen, following the progress and direction of his constantly-missing-but-soon-to-be-
mate.

Nadia had, no doubt, witnessed the earlier scene and sought to find a place of

solitude. Not surprising considering the display Tula had orchestrated in an effort to
persuade him to take her along when they departed in the morning. Her desire to remain
with him in the face of his patent rejection baffled him. She seemed to be little concerned

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with the turn of events and yet insisted on making the journey with him. There had never
been any true intimacy between them. Merely a pleasant, but rather polite acquaintance.
She did what he asked in an efficient if not overly enthusiastic manner, then pursued
other activities. It made no sense that she would not like to return to her life and family
where her time would once again be her own. Surely, she desired a mate and offspring.

And how to explain her presence to Nadia? "It is over between the pleasurer and

me but she will continue to travel with us." Nadia would have his head severed from his
body and serve it to him—diced. And could he blame her? If their roles were reversed,
he would toss the pleasurer into deep space then slap a chastity belt on his mate.

“Your brother and your female did not go quietly, they put up quite a struggle,”

Bran mind-spoke while jumping onto the platmat to settle in for a nap.

"How can you be sure?" Sherem’s pulse leapt to his throat and he turned from the

screen to study his friend. The ankou, though lacking the vocal cords to speak his
language, could now think it with more flair and articulation than Sherem. A situation
affording Bran a vast amount of amusement.

“I located the place they were accosted, scenting your brother's blood and

energy, even though two of the takers took care to remove the evidence.”

"Will you be able to identify their scent when next you come across them?" he

asked.

The ankou raised a bushy eyebrow. “Of course. I followed it to a Star Hopper. I

would guess they plan to make away soon. When do we depart?”

"Immediately. I will order the crew to report to their stations. We can be

airborne within the hour. I’ll notify the Jasperi of our departure and have them place the
escaping vessel on detect. Both of us will monitor any attempted communication. It will
not be difficult to overtake their transport, and may provide us with the answers to a
number of other questions, in the bargain. You ready?" They would depart immediately
while Nadia remained within tracking distance, and surprise those who had taken them.
Sherem had no intention of allowing them to galaxy jump to an untraceable location.

So much for his nap, Bran thought, as he stretched, and pounced soundlessly from

the mat to Sherem's side. As the two headed purposely toward the Portender, Bran asked
if Sherem had any ideas as to why the Princess and his brother had been taken.

“My only guess is they believe, that with the strained relations existing between

my brother and me and the fact that he brought Nadia to Jasper without my knowledge

SHEREM

previously, I will conclude he has absconded with her once again. They probably assume
that I will be in such a rage, my brother will kill me to defend himself, or I will kill him.
Either way they would win. With the frame on my brother complete, he would be
incarcerated or dead—or I would be. The murder of a prince demands such a sentence
no matter the extenuating circumstances. Most perplexing though, is who and why.”
Sherem posed in mind-speak. No one knew of the bond of understanding between the
ankou and himself, and they’d agreed to keep it that way. “What could the unknown
party hope to achieve in creating instability and chaos within Nefar and beyond? Who
would gain by discrediting the House of Baraden?” Sherem mused.

“Someone who would like the Assyllis trade for themselves, I would venture,” the

ankou replied logically.

Sherem’s mind shot back to a long ago conversation he’d had while playing cards

and imbibing too much jive…and how Nadia had played into the mix. She had evaded
him that evening in his own home, causing him to drown his frustration in liquor and
cards. He fought to recall his exact words. Had he intimated that the trade of Assyllis
somehow was linked to Nadia’s favor? Surely not… He felt the blood freeze in his
veins.

Though publicly the other provinces approved of Nefar taking over the processing

and distribution of Assyllis, there remained an undercurrent of jealousy and greed just
below the surface. The purveyors of the Assyllis held untold power and wealth and if
Assyllis were indeed a key ingredient of Angels Gate, the illegal trade of the flower
would increase the value one hundred fold. A very powerful motive for murder or
assassination and well worth the risk.

“You may have solved the question of why someone would want me dead and my

brother blamed. The Assyllis. It is a better theory than we have yet to come up with.”
Cold sick dread settled in him as he broke into a dead run for his ship, knowing he could
be to blame for giving them the idea. The timing was about right. The attempts on his
life had begun not long after the Queen noticed the presence of Angels Gate on Jasper. It
all began to make sense. Sherem constantly marveled at the laws of reasoning, be they
deductive, analytic, discursive, or epistemological. They all carried interlocking
components toward one end. Divining the truth. Random occurrences were often
connected if one deduced the underlying relationships. He’d been locked in a personal
battle between trust and betrayal, unable to detect the logical pattern of incidents to

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purpose but suddenly his mind was free and working furiously. Someone had put into
motion an elaborate scheme in which a key part relied on his disposal and possibly his
brother’s while leaving Nadia free. All without casting shadows on the real objective or
persons involved. Sherem shook his head in doubt. Surely a mastermind intelligent
enough to formulate so complex a plan would not have swallowed the lame excuse he
had given for wanting Nadia. He’d have to be deranged to believe the two were linked.
Everyone knew the Assyllis trade occurred as a direct result of Nefar’s service to
Gattonia and had no bearing on Nadia.

Still it was the best hypothesis they had and must be acted upon. Once again, he

thanked whatever forces responsible for bringing Bran into the pattern of his life. And if
they had not traveled to Jasper, it might have been moons before he connected the
Assyllis with the attempts on his life—and too late. He expelled an imaginary breath and
felt lighter with each step. His brother was in fact being set up, and not an assassin.
Thinking in those terms made him ashamed he ever doubted him.

* * *

“I have been contacted by the Prince and asked to trace the distributed amounts of

Assyllis to our buyers. He wants to know if any parties have increased allotments, and
who those parties might be. He has put Assyllis together with the manufacture of Angels
Gate. The old witch must have given him an earful as he chased after his brother and the
albino bitch,” the stooped Nefari stated into the COM unit.

“He would have discovered the connection sooner or later; he’s not completely

devoid of brains. As long as he does not tie it to the attempts on his life, we are safe.
Fortunately, with the help of Dakar himself, he will be too focused on retrieving the
princess once again to consider much else. We can always hope they kill one another this
time. Sherem must have reached the end of all reason with her taken from him twice in as
many weeks.” The dark one snickered at the way everything had fallen into place. He
drew one step closer to the final prize; he would have his vengeance and more.

* * *

Nadia regained consciousness and took note of her surroundings, or would have if

she had been able to see anything. She rose to all fours, the beads in her costume
scrunching uncomfortably into her knees, and crawled to her left hoping to find a wall, a
piece of furniture or anything to tell her where she might be. She bumped into a log; it

SHEREM

groaned. It turned into a leg as she began to trace it with her fingers gingerly poking and
touching as she went.

“Another few inches, Princess, and you will come across an appendage that will

be very happy to make your acquaintance,” Dakar whispered lightly.

Nadia snapped her hand back as if burned. “Dakar, why didn’t you identify

yourself, you monzu, and where are we?” she whispered back, privately relieved she was
not alone, and not alone with the dead or unconscious body of her friend.

“I came-to with your touch, which began as a very pleasant dream. As to where

we are, I would say we have been kidnapped. Do you remember being set upon?” he
asked.

“Of course I remember being attacked, I was sure they had killed you,” her voice

betrayed the effect the violence had had on her. She had never before seen someone
beaten so brutally. The short scuffle with his brother ranked as harmless play compared
to it. “Are you alright, Dakar? Is anything broken?”

Dakar tried to chuckle but groaned again instead. He felt like he’d been put

through a meat grinder backwards. He needed a Med-Tech Unit in the worst way but
doubted their captures would see it that way. Why had they been kidnapped?
“Everything, I believe.”

“Who would do something like this; surely they do not think they can possibly

succeed. But worse than that; what will your brother think?” She worried her bottom lip,
more afraid of Sherem’s reaction than the threat posed by their situation. A soft
thrumming began to sound.

“Zazu’s hammer, we are on a ship,” Dakar whispered. “Nadia, give me your

hands.”

“Do you want to get up, Dakar? Somehow I don’t think your body will thank

you.”

“Just do it, Nia.” As she reached for him, he grabbed her wrists and let out a

relieved sigh. The tracking band remained on her wrist. Most likely, their captors had no
notion it was there. Sherem would track them making their captivity fleeting. Nadia too
realized the ramifications of the band and relaxed.

A silent whoosh and blinding light told them they were about to meet the

kidnappers and survey their surroundings. It was some sort of a storage compartment
with no seating, tables or amenities of any kind. One of the males walked in and kicked

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Dakar in the ribs and though his face showed a growing sheen and paleness he made no
sound. “Get up, royalty; we have plans to put into motion. There is little time.”

Dakar remained motionless. “Sorry scarubs, I go nowhere without the Princess.”

He was rewarded with another kick and then brought to his feet roughly by two of the
males.

“Make no mistake, Prince.” The leader sneered his title. “Your wishes mean less

than nothing to us, but defy ours and the Princess will pay the price for your reticence.
Gorrick enjoys his work; he is a skin-carver, and one of the best. Fail to do as we request
and I promise you will not recognize the Princess when next you see her. Got it?” Flat
face flashed a toothless grin.

Dakar paled under his all ready pasty complexion, but said nothing further as he

was led away by two burly goons.

Flat face turned back to Nadia. “Disrobe Princess,” he commanded, “or I will do

it for you. Actually, you may not want to co-operate, it would probably be your first taste
of a real male’s hands on you.” He inched toward her. “You’d probably like it.” He
grunted, showing off a toothless grin. “Might even begin to melt the ice in your veins.”

“Touch me cavern mouth and you will not survive the day, not that there is much

chance of that anyway,” Nadia commented while climbing to her feet with a nonchalance
she did not feel. Actually she was fairly certain they would not kill her but there were
many fates just as devastating if not as permanent. She refused to cower, however, like
some helpless creature in a cage. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin,
frantically weighing her options. They were not in abundance.

He was on her in an instant and before she could react, the upper layers of her

costume were ripped neck to hem leaving her waist and above fully revealed. She felt
sick and backed up against the wall, putting as much distance as possible between them.
He hissed like the snake he resembled and started toward her. This time she reacted with
a well-placed kick to the groin but instead of neutralizing him, if only for a moment, it
enraged him. He backhanded her so hard her head hit the adjacent wall with a sickening
thud and everything went black.

When he started for her again, he was grabbed by two of his shipmates.
“What are you doing you fool, if you kill her we all die! If not by Sherem then

her brother or worst of all, our leader. You’ve seen his temper; you’ve seen what he can
do. We may already be doomed, Gorrick.” He knew he was babbling but couldn’t stop.

SHEREM

Bager wished he’d never gotten involved with these low-lifes. There was little chance he
would survive it. For once, his mate had been right. She had warned him to take a pass
and walk away but the credits had been a lure that he’d been unable to forego. Now it
would mean his death. He approached the broken female and gingerly felt for a pulse.
She still breathed. He injected a dose of the zombie drug then carefully lifted her and
carried her to the sleeping chamber.

Nadia awakened to a worse nightmare than she could envision. Four of them

stood over her, their appendages exposed and pointed in her direction. Was this some
kind of satanic ritual? They were touching themselves, rubbing their erections and
occasionally grunting and then it began; one by one, they began squirting a cloudy
substance all over her. It was pungent and repulsive. She wanted to be retch but was
afraid she would drown in her own vomit. She could not move her limbs or her mouth
but she could see and feel and was aware of everything happening around her. She was
utterly helpless, what had they given her? She realized at that moment that she lay on a
mat entwined with a male body as still as her own. They had been posed together. She
prayed to be sucked out a portal into open space rather than face what she knew followed.

She did not have long to wait.
They entered silently but the air in the chamber immediately changed. It seemed

charged with rage, fury, and a myriad of other emotions she could not pinpoint but were
as equally in evidence. There were no rantings of betrayal or accusations, no words at
all. She couldn’t tell who had entered; only that Sherem was among them. She could
pick out his scent even through the stench of sex clinging to the room and her skin. Were
there others gawking at them, stunned into disgust?

The air moved once more and Sherem appeared before her. She was so

humiliated that a lone tear found its way past her lashes and onto her cheekbone, making
a path to her mouth. Sherem bent down and gently kissed it away. He covered her to her
chin with his cloak then lifted her high and tightly to his chest issuing quiet orders to get
Dakar aboard his ship and into an MTU.

Nadia closed her eyes. They were saved but at what cost? She would never be

able to face Sherem again.

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Chapter Eight

Sherem entered his quarters with orders not to be disturbed until called. He

lowered Nadia carefully onto his mat and proceeded to shed his clothing matter of factly.
He could not remember a time that left him so enraged. Pent up fury made his hands
shake. They had beaten her badly. The left half of her face had turned four shades of
purple while a lump could be felt on the back of head to the right. Her right shoulder had
bruised, as well. The short visit to the Med-unit had removed most of her physical
injuries but what of those inside. He wished the mongrels responsible for her injuries
were still alive so he could kill them once again. Only one remained alive so they could
coax information on who was behind the kidnapping. After he talked, Sherem would
deal with him alone. He closed his eyes in an effort to block the emotions he saw roiling
in her eyes. She looked like a cornered animal—fear, desperation, and humiliation
radiating in waves from her wounded eyes.

How could he comfort her? He was horrible in these situations; the inadequacy of

words never more pronounced. He wanted to fix her, heal her, protect her from what she
experienced and shield her from every hurtful occurrence in the future. He blinked—did
he love her?

Nadia stared, mesmerized while questions flowed through her mind faster than an

angry river. She was thankful her jaw could not move or it would be residing on her
chest. His body was a beautiful mystery to behold. His bronze skin glowed, accentuating
the hard planes and contours of his body. He was perfection. His male member jutted
out at a ninety-degree angle from his muscle-banded abdomen. She noted that his sex
measured both longer and thicker than those of her attackers, and wondered why the fact
pleased rather than frightened her. Her gaze sought his to determine why he had disrobed
in front of her. They were roiling like an obsidian sea radiating fury and heated
determination. Would he force his will upon her when she could not speak or retaliate?
His black eyes glowed with feral intent but still he did not speak. Instead, he lifted her

SHEREM

once more and carried her into the clean room lowering them both into the swirling
waters of a giant bathing pool. The water was hot, cleansing, and relaxing—nirvana. Or
maybe it was the way he held her. She felt as if she were wrapped in a cocoon of warmth
and protection. The nightmare of the previous hours began to fade. He crooned to her
while gently washing the stench from her body. She was home and did not, would not
question her good fortune, afraid that it would melt away just as her ordeal was doing.
Had he ever been so gentle? It was a side of him she would not have believed existed.
He was not angry with her or repelled and the horrific episode lodged in every pore,
purged through the tears streaming down her face.

Nadia grew weary but refused to close her eyes. She feared the last few hours

would replay over and over in her dreams and couldn’t face the thought. There appeared
no way to convey her thoughts to Sherem, however, as he summoned a Med-tech
Engineer with instructions to bring a sleeping potion.

Sherem could read the panic in her eyes but hadn’t a notion of what was spinning

around in her brain. Did she not trust him to take care of her? Did she fear his wrath?
When the MTE arrived, Nadia let out a squeak as beads of perspiration formed on her
forehead. Her eyes were pleading with him. “Do you not want the potion, misulu?” At
the relief he witnessed in her gaze, he knew he had guessed correctly. “The drug you
were given is called Bymithium; a combination motor inhibitor, amphetamine, and
anesthesia. It paralyzes certain parts of the brain leaving you aware and conscious but
unable to move or speak. It is also very uncomfortable to come down from, painful. I
would not see you suffer more than you have. The injection will allow you to sleep
through this process. I ask that you trust me and allow me to do what is best for you,” he
whispered softly. Her gaze told him that she would like to believe him.

“Leave the injector here, Dimi, I will administer it myself, you may go,” Sherem

said as he turned back to Nadia, but as the panel slid open he bade her to wait. “How is
my brother?” He wanted to know.

“He remains incapacitated but the unit is doing its job. His blood pressure is

elevated but I believe it is because he is unable to order us about.” She shrugged as a
half-smile touched her lips. “That and the female who refuses to leave his side guarding
over him like a she-ankou.”

Sherem chuckled. “I am glad I am not there. Who is the overprotective female?”

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The MTE shifted uncomfortably, moving her gaze from Sherem to Nadia before

answering. “Tula is with him, my Prince,” she answered quietly before exiting.

“It appears my brother has made another conquest,” he commented to no one in

particular.

Nadia’s breath seized in her throat. Tula remained with him. He had brought her

aboard the Portender even though he had known Nadia would be with him. How dare he
pretend that he cared for her when he chose to travel with his gift. Did he honestly think
she would stand for it? That he could mate with her—to have and to hold? Only he
would have her but hold Tula? Would that she had the use of her limbs, she would
pummel the appendage between his legs so he would find no pleasure from his pleasurer.

She speared him with a look of censure impossible to misinterpret. Sherem swore

under his breath. He just had to ask that last question. He wanted to kick himself across
the room. Why was it that whenever a bond began to form between them something
occurred to tromp on it like a heavy foot on a delicate flower? He quickly injected the
potion rendering her unconscious. They would save this coming storm for when she
could flay him in the manner he deserved. He could always hope she wouldn’t remember
upon awakening. He sighed.

Dakar felt such agony he wanted to trounce the being responsible for his

existence, zap the million stingers relentlessly piercing his skin, and rail at the female
quietly stroking his arm like a favored pet. The Med-tech Unit had done its job in
mending his bones, tendons and lacerations, but as the Bymithium worked its way
through his system, his discomfort grew ten-fold. He had communicated his refusal of
the antidote with a hard won “no”, for the drug not only alleviated the worst of the
symptoms and promoted sleep, it sometimes acted as a truth serum. The serum he would
avoid at all costs as long as Tula remained by his side. At any moment, the moisture that
welled in his eyes would overflow, making him look like a sniveling baby in need of a
wet nurse. He would rather his weakness show in front of anyone but her. His brother’s
‘gift’—and Dakar’s dark obsession.

Sherem made his way to the isolation unit where his brother was being treated and

found Bran outside guarding as Sherem had requested. “No trouble as yet, my friend?”
he asked.

“No one has come near but the female, Tula,” Bran responded with a growl. “I

am a killing beast, feared by all who have seen or even heard of me. I can destroy tens of

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your kind in two-minute intervals, yet both of your females treat me as a housebroken pet.
It is not to be borne,” he stated with a shake of his massive head.

What a dichotomy, Sherem mused; the males were terrified beyond description

while the females either wanted to hug him or order him about. He tried to squelch a
grin. “I apologize, but you must have similar problems with your own females; the
species are difficult to comprehend and impossible to control.” Sherem lifted his
shoulders in tandem with his hands in the age-old gesture of bewilderment. “But Tula is
no longer my pleasurer or of any consequence to me. She remains against my wishes,
with an unknown agenda. In truth, she is making my life and that of my future mate
untenable. I cannot, however, repudiate her in deference to diplomatic considerations,
and she has assured me she is not here to make trouble for me or mine. I can only hope
she speaks the truth.” Placing his palm on the wall pad the door to the unit slid open.

“Tula, leave now and do not try to see my brother again. He is a prisoner and

allowed no visitors,” Sherem ordered with obvious rancor. After Tula fled the room
Sherem focused on Dakar, taking several moments to put his feelings into words.

Dakar studied him warily.
Sherem sat down on the mat and studied his hands before speaking. “I feel like I

have awakened from a living nightmare, and can once again see clearly. I have always
trusted and loved you above all others, Dakar. If anyone else had been accused of my
demise, I would have been able to weigh the facts without bias, but when all the arrows
of accusation pointed in your direction, my judgment and perception became skewed. It
is unclear who would set these incidents in motion or why, but of one thing I am sure.
The culprit is not you. I can only humbly ask your forgiveness for my doubt and
behavior these last moons.”

Tears ran down Dakar’s face and into his hair but kept any words behind a tightly

clenched jaw. Sherem studied his brother with renewed attention. Something was amiss.
“Are you not well, my brother? You are sweating worse than a glass of iced water in the
middle of a desert.”

“Painnnn,” he ground out from the pit of his being.
Sherem stood over him and shouted, “Were you not cared for, did they not heal

you and give you something to block the aftereffects of the drug? You are here for your
protection, not as a punishment for uncommitted deeds.”

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“I refused to ask with that female hovering over me like her next meal,” Dakar

revealed ruefully.

“Dimi, an antidote-tranq for my brother, stat!” Sherem growled into the COM

unit. “You can be as stubborn as any ankou alive, Dakar. Tula is no more than a fixture,
why not order her from your quarters and take the medication offered,” Sherem asked,
puzzled at his brother’s reticence.

Though Tula was a princess of Jasper and Sherem honored by the giving of her,

she had remained somewhat of a cumbersome obligation, an un-needed toy. That Tula
seemed to hold him in similar regard bothered him not in the least. So why his brother
would care about her presence, or lack thereof, he could not fathom.

The panel opened to admit the MTE and Tula, once again. “I thought I told you

to leave these quarters, Tula,” Sherem began only to be cut off by a mutinous scowl from
his former pleasurer who previously had seemed polite and pliant.

“If you had but trusted your brother from the beginning, he would not be in this

condition. I have stood back and let things progress without interference but no longer. I
will care for your brother myself and ensure no further ‘incidents’ befall him in your
care.” The last words shot like a spear through Sherem’s conscience and knew his
remorse showed clearly as his somber gaze fell to Dakar. His brother had no words of
vindication. He had lost consciousness.

Sherem charged down the corridor toward the detention center. He would know

who plotted to create the chasm between him and his brother. Moreover, who had the
death wish to involve, and then harm Nadia?

The Detention Officer appeared in front of him looking perplexed and not a little

panicked. “He is dead, Your Highness, by his own hand.”

“How did that happen? Our cells would not permit such an attempt without

automatically intervening.” Sherem waited, his skepticism mounting with each bead of
moisture forming on the officer’s brow. He felt the presence of Bran, behind and to his
right.

“It was self induced. We don’t know how, but have sent the body for an autopsy.

We followed procedures to the letter. We searched him thoroughly, restrained, and
watched him. We suspect he had a poison tooth.”

After studying his officer for another moment, he dismissed him, already

determining his next move. It felt increasingly like a game of three level chess.

SHEREM

Sherem addressed a group of his most trusted warriors and crewmates briefing

them on the upcoming journey to earth and informing them of the vial to be carefully
guarded in the isolation compartment in the main Med-Tech Unit. “Two guards will be
assigned at six hour intervals to ensure the vials safety and six others together with the
ankou will guard my brother to ensure his…safety as well as my own.” The message
rang patently clear; his brother was a suspected assassin. Sherem, Dakar, and Bran
agreed that it was the safest route for the time being for they believed a spy—or several—
could be on board and would hesitate to harm either Sherem or Dakar if his whereabouts
could be proven at all times. Further, it would give his brother, when disguised, the
freedom to roam while Bran guarded him. Enough of the crew had witnessed Bran’s
ability to cloak himself, to ensure no one would approach Dakar’s panel, even if the
passageway appeared deserted. “Dismissed,” Sherem ordered and rose to leave the
planning room but at a subtle signal from his captain, he hung back. “What is on your
mind, Jorge?”

“You are, Sherem. Who will be watching your back while the beas, uh, the ankou

is watching your brother?”

“I am perfectly capable of watching my own back, however, I do expect you to be

doubly vigilant and keep your eyes attuned to anything that does not appear quite right.
My instincts tell me that this will be a very interesting journey; complicated further by
the presence of the princesses Nadia and Tula, who must also be protected. Be sure to
warn the men that 'protect' does not extend to touch, in the case of Princess Nadia, for I
would hate to have to kill any of my own warriors over a messy and unwise attraction.
Do we understand each other, my friend?”

“Yes, though I can barely contain my amusement. I have never seen you like this

over a female,” Jorge answered then strode out of the room whistling.

Sherem groaned and realized it was becoming one of his most frequent

expressions.

* * *

“What are you doing here? Leave my quarters at once. I may have to tolerate

your presence on this ship but I will not do the same in my private rooms,” Nadia
pronounced scathingly. Though still suffering the lethargy left behind by the tranq, she
ranted at the audacity of her rival. Why did she have to be a princess on top of it all?
She had serviced Sherem for who knew how long and was obviously not going to

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relinquish him easily. Nadia’s greatest fear, however, she concealed deep in her soul.
What if Tula could conceive while she, almost certainly, could not? The deadly
infertility virus that had been infused into the air over Gattonia, for the purpose of
annihilating their race, had worked on her as well as most of the other females within
Gattonia. Since reaching her maturity, she had declined the test that would confirm her
fertility, or lack thereof, and simply counted herself lucky there were no outward signs of
the virus’ effects, unlike many other females. It was the same catastrophe that brought
Catarina into their lives. The influx of earth women bolstered their race, and ensured its
survival, but at what cost? It was ironic that one of the best things that happened to their
family began and remained as the worst. Nadia studied the Princess of Jasper.

Tula magnified every shortcoming Nadia possessed. She was graceful, delicate,

even-featured, had porcelain white skin that reminded her of the soft petals of an orchid,
and was so very, very tiny in stature. She had hair the color of Sherem’s that contrasted
beautifully with piercing deep violet eyes that warily watched Nadia as thoroughly as
Nadia regarded her. Nadia wondered what she saw; a gangly giant with pronounced
features and unrelenting amber from head to foot? She inwardly grinned. One step from
her bare foot would probably squish the perfect little thing to death. A pity she wasn’t
the violent type.

“What I have to impart could be of great benefit to us both, if you will please give

me a moment,” Tula stated nodding toward the lounger that Nadia had risen from
abruptly when Tula had invaded her room.

Nadia, believing height her only advantage, stood her ground with tilted head and

a quirked eyebrow, waiting. Tula sighed. “Very well, I will sit while you continue to
loom over me. You are a very obstinate female, not at all as you have been described,”
she observed as she floated across the room, descended upon the soft upholstered
lounger, and tucked her dainty feet beneath her. Tula stared directly into Nadia’s eyes
and announced, “I do not want Sherem as my mate. In truth, I no longer hold the place as
pleasurer nor will I miss it. We were never intimate, in fact.”

Nadia snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.
Tula sighed delicately. “The exercise that you witnessed between us had no more

import than any other relaxation method of massage. It is simply our way of giving
service to those in need of comfort, and totally non-sexual in nature.”

SHEREM

Nadia glared, unseeing, at the blatant lie. Did the female think she was totally

ignorant in the ways of males and females? If the unlimited information provided by the
vidcoms proved insufficient, the graphic descriptions depicted in the steady stream of
earth romance novels she devoured on a regular basis left nothing to the imagination.
“Think you I have no knowledge of oral sex and where it leads? Yet another
misconception, no doubt. A blow job definitely fits into the category of intimacy with a
capitol S-E-X.”

“Our culture is infinitely more advanced than yours, as is our understanding of

sex, intimacy, massage, healing and all manner of physical and mental relaxation and
stimulation. What I have confided to you is the truth, Prince Sherem and I have never
been intimate by the standards of Fleurevitae,” Tula explained. At Nadia’s anticipated
objection she held up a dainty hand for silence and continued, “Do not misunderstand me,
princess, a “blow job”, as you so delicately put it can indeed be sexual, but it may also act
as an exercise to promote relaxation. That is the case where your prince is concerned. I
have no desire to be intimate with another’s mate which I have considered him these two
cycles past, just as I have no longing for intimacy with Sherem even unencumbered. My
heart is engaged elsewhere and I fear it is a lifelong sentence.”

Nadia reeled at both Tula’s confession and her clear agitation in doing so. She

blushed like an adolescent and averted her gaze, as if searching for a crack in the floor to
crawl into. Her sophistication had vanished.

Nadia plopped down onto the opposite end of the lounger and stared at this new

side of the princess from Jasper. “So what are you doing here?” an only slightly skeptical
Nadia inquired.

Tula thought her conversation with Nadia proceeded well, and as it continued, she

found she liked the princess very much. She felt a connection quite rare in her dealings
with other females. Nadia had gone so far as to offer any help she could in bringing
Dakar around to notice Tula as a potential lifemate. And was further heartened when
Nadia confided that she and Dakar had become as close as siblings and felt the two of
them would be good for one another.

Tula smiled gratefully while studying her new friend unabashedly. Of course, she

had heard the stories about her being different, even grotesque, but nothing had prepared
her for the reality. She boasted a rarity of breathtakingly beauty, perfect in every way.
The matching tones of her hair, eyes, and skin should have made her seem non-descript

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but nothing could have been further from the truth. It instead accented the dramatic tilt of
her large eyes, the perfection of her sculpted cheekbones, her large, generous mouth, and
long slender neck. It made Tula feel commonplace and not the exotic beauty everyone
purported her to be. Nadia had a striking uniqueness that all together mesmerized. She
resembled a breathing, golden statue, so striking she was almost difficult to look upon,
but her powerful aura intervened. She was as clear as an amber stream with no meanness
or conceit within, only quiet intelligence and unwavering simpatico. No wonder Sherem
fell smitten.

Nadia froze at Tula’s scrutiny wanting to avert her gaze and find an excuse to

remove herself from sight but her pride would not allow it. She had become quite
accustomed to people gawking at her and knew they would be unsatisfied until they
stared their fill. No longer a child, she would not cower as one. She straightened her
shoulders and defiantly remained unmoving.

Tula noticed the change in her friend’s demeanor and silently chastised herself for

her insensitivity. She was sure it was a common occurrence for Nadia to be stared at and
must be tiresome to deal with. Tula flashed a self-depreciating smile. “It’s just that you
are so breath-stealing lovely and unique, it quite takes my breath away,” Tula admitted.

“Don’t worry, Tula, I am well aware of my, shall we say, unusual looks; I do own

a mirror after all.”

Tula blinked twice, not at all sure what she had heard or what it meant. “Your

pardon?” she asked, bewildered.

“Too, I believe is the operative word,” Nadia continued her pre-emptive strike in

an effort to have the subject dealt with and over.

“T-two?”
Nadia gritted her teeth. “Too. Eyes too large. Nose too small. Lips too full.

Coloring too...too.”

Tula stared too hard at her for a moment. And then laughed…too hard.

SHEREM

Chapter Nine

Sherem was confused. The mysteries surrounding him kept unraveling even as

others realigned. Were Tula’s motives as simple as they appeared or did she hide some
deeper purpose? His ‘accidents’ had begun not long after her appearance, yet he had
never thought to question the timing of her arrival. What kind of a strategist was he that
he looked for deceit from his own brother before questioning the pleasurer that showed
up on his doorstep, previously unknown to him? She was in a position to have killed him
on countless occasions, yet because of her connection to the Queen, until several minutes
ago; he had never given it a thought. He had made his situation clear as to their
separation and his allegiance to Nadia yet she stuck to him like an unwanted burr. Even
with the easy-going manner of the Jasperi and non-confrontational ministrations, they
were still a people of great pride and dignity. Why would a princess of these people stay
where she was clearly not wanted? And why did she suddenly insist on staying by his
brother’s side. Did she plan to set him up even further as assassin against Sherem or
could there be some other reason that eluded him. Could she be plotting to kill Dakar
then blame Sherem? He exited his post at the helm of his ship, leaving his navigator,
Dune, in charge. He wanted to speak with his brother and Bran and get their thoughts.
Taking the lift to the third level that housed his brother, Tula, and Nadia he made his way
to the very end where his brother resided. Passing Nadia’s quarters, he thought he heard
females in conversation. Had she made friends with one of his crew so quickly? He
always considered her shy and protective of herself. Approaching his brother’s quarters,
he heard the soft swish of an opening panel and observed Tula exiting Nadia’s quarters.
What in the name of Zazu was going on? His brother was not in his quarters, no doubt on
walkabout with Bran. He headed toward Nadia’s panel and entered before he even
realized he had moved from his brother’s quarters.

The affliction that greeted him stunned him speechless.

* * *

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“Do you have it in your possession?” the disembodied voice demanded.
“Yes, er, no,” the other stuttered nervously into the outer COM unit. “They won’t

be taking Heavens Gate to the Gattonian scientists or anywhere else, it has been
destroyed.”

“You were not foolish enough to ingest it yourself, were you,” he inquired silkily.
“N-no, sir. It is no more than a death sentence and we both know it, I jettisoned it

from the ship with other refuse. It will never be found either here or in anyone’s
metabolism,” he submitted proudly, as if he had figured out the possible ramifications all
by himself.

“And you were not seen?” the voice continued silkily.
“I swear on my m-mother’s ashes, great leader.”
“That’s very good, Minoc, very good. And you know what to do next?” the voice

probed.

“It is clear, consider it done, sir. End transmission,” came the rushed reply. The

officer silently exited the main COM room, available to all crewmembers wanting to
contact family and friends while serving on the Portender.

* * *

Nadia turned as Sherem entered her chambers unannounced. She would

somehow break him of that accursed habit but first she wanted his reaction to the re-
imaging that Tula had wrought.

How Tula could think her a singular beauty escaped her but when Nadia

explained her weariness at having to look upon the same bland reflection every day, she
suggested a remarkable solution. “Um, so what do you think?” Nadia asked tentatively,
touching her hair then smoothing her thigh-length sheath.

“You look like a desecrated whore,” he ground out, demonstrating his usual

finesse in dealing with his soon-to-be mate. He marched to her and touched her hair and
the painted design on her face, neck, and one shoulder with disbelieving thoroughness.
The turquoise, silver and black tattoo began at her left temple, patterned across her face
down her neck to her shoulder, and disappeared under her gown heading toward her right
breast. Her hair had been streaked using the same colors. Surely, he gulped, it could not
be permanent, no deity could be that cruel, would allow the destruction of so perfect a
creation. Someone had taken the symmetry of her golden beauty and vandalized it with
graffiti and he knew just whom to blame. He would deal with her later. Blast her into

SHEREM

space if need be but first he had to cleanse his female. He gently drew her dress down to
expose her right breast, relieved to see it stopped where the material began, and awed at
the perfection of her plump globe.

Nadia stared in embarrassed fascination at her exposed breast and the way it

budded under his perusal. When he lowered his head and gingerly circled that bud with
his tongue, she jumped as if electrocuted. “What are you doing,” she yelped breathlessly,
as he pressed the sheath back into place. His eyes met hers and opened his mouth to
apologize but instead grabbed her arm and commenced dragging her to the clean room.

“Cleaning you up,” he growled back.
“Stop it,” she screeched. “Stop it this instant; I assure you I am perfectly clean

already.”

“We’ve got to get it off you and then I will deal with the witch that did this to

you.”

“I don’t want to get it off. I think it’s beautiful. Tula said there are civilizations

where skin patterning is common and denotes family origin, occupation, and even mating
status. Would you like to know the meaning of this design?”

“You don’t understand,” he informed her, ignoring her question and working to

shepherd her to the clean room. “The longer the stain remains on your skin, the more
permanent it becomes. I will not have you marked.”

“Oh, I understand, you barbaric moron. I understand more than you know. I

understand, for instance, that the only reason you want me is to permanently monopolize
the Assyllis trade. And I understand you have no intention of giving up your pleasures
after we mate. Well you can have your precious flowers but it will be a cold day in hell
before I let you touch me, let alone bathe me again.” Nadia stood her ground, stomping
her foot.

The accusation behind Assyllis blew by without note, the ‘pleasurer’ comment—

undoubtedly understandable, but horror dawned as he recalled his actions. He had all but
called his misulu a whore and then familiarly laved her breast. “Your pardon, I…”

Then Bran’s voice sounded within him. “Trouble,” it intoned clearly.
“Tell me,” Sherem thought back.
“The vial of Angels Gate had been secreted from the Med-tech Center,” Bran

answered.

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Nadia gawked, openly puzzled at the sudden change in Sherem. Something

distracted him; his eyes lost focus and his body grew taut as if he was communicating
telepathically with someone. Only she was certain he had no such abilities—no Nefari
did as far as she knew for she would have felt it. She was an incredibly strong telepath
though strove to hide the full force of her talent.

When he pulled even further into himself, she used it as an opportunity to discern

what about him held her in such thrall. Though arresting in a rough sort of way, the scar
across the plain of his forehead and his brash mannerisms, precluded any claim to classic
charm or beauty. Sherem’s features were harsh and his expression grim, which
embedded additional creases into an all ready scored terrain. Yet he compelled and
mesmerized her whenever his gaze held hers. She closed her eyes; what did it all mean?
His control over her was undeniable and something her mind could not begin to
encompass. She registered steel like brackets on both shoulders before his mouth crashed
down onto hers, then just as fast, he was gone.

“SHEREM,” she blasted into his mind, determined to confirm what she surmised.

He would not have been able to screen his reaction to such a compelling command and
her suspicions were put to rest; he had no telepathic abilities…but she learned something
else as well. Someone very close did. And they were not Gattonian, Nefari, or any other
being she had ever felt. Whatever it was, however, was clearly on the ship. She shivered
in apprehension.

* * *

Tula flummoxed him, Dakar acknowledged. Recovered from his injuries and

back to his duties, she persisted in her care of him and it made him jumpy and raw. Even
when he refused to acknowledge her presence, his senses tracked her every fluid
movement. She floated serenely around his chambers, straightening objects that did not
require straightening, brewing him choc-tea, which she pressed into his hands, and in
general making a nuisance of herself. The female invaded his quarters at will, allowing
him no privacy during his waking hours and at night haunted his dreams with a
thoroughness that left him shaking with a desire so strong he anointed his stomach with
his seed on occasion. She was a plague, a pestilence that gave no quarter, except to drive
him sensually insane.

Today when she breezed past his guards, entered his chambers, and swayed

toward him, opening her mouth to speak—he cut her off. “What in hells name gives you

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the right to barge into my quarters whenever the mood strikes you, female? One of these
days you will catch me stripped and primed,” he drawled challengingly.

“Oh, Dakar, the thought makes me tremble, but I wonder whether in fear or some

other emotion.”

She sauntered toward him and placed a delicate hand on his chest. He found that

indeed she was trembling. “What do you play at, pleasurer?” Tula flinched as if struck.
He stared at her, perplexed. Though at times he wanted to strangle her, being on the
receiving end of the hurt he read in her startling violet eyes created a crater in his chest
where his heart once resided. When he reached for her to apologize she whirled, and
marched to his panel.

Keeping her back to him she said, “Your brother sent me to request your presence

in the main Med-lab. He asked that you hurry.” As she floated from his vision, he
wondered what had just occurred. He turned and grabbed his tunic from his sleeping mat
and gingerly donned it. His injuries, though healed for the most part, still felt tight. Why
had his brother sent for him at the Med-lab? Why not COM him? And what had Tula
intimated, exactly, before he opened his big mouth?

When Dakar entered the Med-lab, three sets of eyes met his. “The vial of Angels

Gate has been exchanged for a placebo which confirms we have a traitor or traitors on
board,” Sherem stated shortly.

“You are certain?” Dakar asked, looking first at Bran and then Jorge before

walking to his brother’s side to examine the small tube. He ran his finger over the base
where Sherem had made a chink, invisible to the naked eye. It was smooth.

“I was the last of the three of us to check for the mark last eve and it was still

there. Since then the shift has changed twice,” Jorge told Dakar. “When I decided to
stop in a few minutes ago, this is what I found.”

“Have you looked at the monitor archives, as yet?”
“Not yet, your brother and Bran arrived right behind me and…how did you know

something was wrong?” Jorge turned his attention to Sherem. “I had just reached the
COM unit when you entered.”

Sherem shrugged. “Serendipity.”
Dakar barked out a laugh. “Serendipity? My big tough warrior brother knows a

word like serendipity.” The teasing mirth in Dakar’s eyes leaped to Sherem’s. Relations
between them were slowly returning to normal though Sherem could still detect a cloud

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of wariness surfacing when Dakar didn’t know he was being observed. Sherem hoped
time and attention would see it disappear. Nadia had made him question the obvious, he
should never have doubted his brother, no matter the circumstances, and he wanted to
kick himself for his stubbornness and how it had damaged his relationship with Dakar.
All he could do now was go forward.

As the two grinned at each other like fools, Bran messaged that Dakar’s comment

had taken the focus off Sherem’s timely arrival and suggested he use it to move on to the
subject of the theft before more questions of an uncomfortable nature surfaced.

Sherem nodded slightly in acknowledgement. “Jorge, we must review the virtual

surveillance records for the last twelve hours. It will be slow going, who would like to
take the first four; we must find the thief and the Angels Gate before it can be
distributed.”

“I will review the entirety of the data, I should have been more vigilant, my

Prince,” Jorge admitted.

Sherem noted his captain’s dejected demeanor and felt like a heel. He couldn’t

confide that the whole exercise had been set up just for this occurrence. “There is only so
much any of us can do, Jorge, you cannot take the blame for someone else’s actions.
Each person chooses his own path to honor or dishonor. I will come spell you later this
afternoon and Bran can assist, as well. He has keener eyesight than we mere mortals.”

Bran ruffed in acknowledgement then followed the brothers as they made their

way to Sherem’s quarters to consider their next move. Things were going as planned and
would now become more dangerous. Sherem knew that Bran would stay silently by his
side at all times…unless he managed to corral the female of his desire; then Bran would
guard their privacy. He fought a grin as he made his plans for that evening.

That evening Tula propelled a reluctant Nadia into the officer’s lounge. Nadia

had not left her cabin since her rescue three days before. Her injuries on the outside were
healed but the ones inside would take considerably longer. She felt exposed, ashamed,
and embarrassed. Nadia wondered how many had witnessed the scene with Dakar, and
even felt awkward meeting Dakar, her almost-brother. She wanted to burrow in her room
for the rest of the journey but Tula would have none of it. The tiny tinker bell had turned
tyrant.

Jorge watched as the two beauties entered, causing male eyes, tongues, and other

appendages to protrude. Tula’s diminutive frame, dark, curling tresses, and lively violet

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eyes were a perfect counterpoint to Nadia’s tall willowy figure, liquid Amber eyes and
hair flowing smoothly to the base of her back in matching deep, golden glory. Their
body language shouted from opposite spectrums, as well, and Jorge had to smile. Tula’s
every move whispered of sensual delights while Nadia’s proclaimed aloof innocence.
They eclipsed everything beautiful and desirous in a female and every male felt the
power of it. After they were seated, the horde descended offering to bring food, spirits,
or anything else attainable. When the waiter made to fight his way through, the captain
could contain his laughter no longer. At that moment, he was infinitely grateful to his
lifemate, whom he cherished even more than his ship. He sounded a whistle to attention
and ordered the crew back to their stations. Nadia nodded her appreciation.

Nadia shivered. “Thank the heavens they’re gone.”
“They were only expressing their appreciation for your beauty, you should be

flattered,” Tula commented.

“Your beauty, you mean,” Nadia corrected.
“My friend, you are the loveliest thing I have ever encountered and with my

position at the palace I have seen many. Why do you question your fairness when it
proclaims itself with every line of your body and radiates from within; it is no wonder
Sherem has thoughts for no other but you.”

“Oh, Tula,” Nadia groaned. “You don’t understand; the only thoughts he

entertains are those pertaining to my lineage and natural resources.”

Tula exuded an unlady-like snort and Nadia started with surprise making Tula

laugh raucously through her reply. “I have no doubt that your natural resources are
exactly what he is after.” Nadia’s confusion turned to understanding and she too began to
giggle.

“T-that is not what I meant,” Nadia clarified a minute later, relaxing for the fist

time in days with the outlet of her laughter. “No,” she croaked, wiping her eyes and
clearing her throat. “No, Tula, he is only interested in Gattonias Assyllis. Nefar handles
the treating and distribution of it galaxy wide. It has enriched their economy and helped
their people immensely. In mating with me, Nefar’s future will be assured. That is why
he pursues me.”

Tula studied her. “Are you so naïve in the ways of males?” After a moment she

nodded and added under her breath, “Yes, I can see that you are.

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“Nadia, Sherem is besotted with you—obsessed. I am his pleasurer and would

know.” Tula checked to be sure of their privacy and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I
will tell you something in utmost confidence. I have never been breeched. I remain
pure.”

Nadia’s eyes bugged and her mouth fell open. “But that can’t be, you have been

Sherem’s pleasurer for a long while…and I saw you that day.” Her eyes closed in an
effort to block the vision.

Tula sought to erase the look of pain arresting her features. “What I told you

before is true; you saw a Fluerevitae relaxation technique and nothing more; our bonding
centers have never intertwined. The Jasperi are taught from a young age to use our
bodies to give comfort, pleasure, and healing in a myriad of ways. None of these
methods bring shame or embarrassment but enrichment and knowledge. The only
negative touches are those not given freely but stolen and only the thief should suffer
shame for it.” Tula met Nadia’s gaze directly before continuing. “Sherem loves you
with his whole heart, Nadia. It is a rare gift he offers.”

Nadia sighed. “I am happy that you never, er, intertwined and thank you for

easing my mind but I still believe you are mistaken.” Nadia studied her hands resting in
her lap before admitting, “You see, I overheard Sherem telling his friends that his interest
in me laid solely in monetary and political gain.”

“Bosh, what you heard was simple male posturing. Did you truly expect him to

admit that, after chasing you for three cycles without success, he was hopelessly in love
with you? You told me you were raised by your brother and his protector; did you learn
nothing of male ego?”

Nadia closed her eyes fighting the hope fluttering like caged birds against her

insecurities.

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Chapter Ten

Norric watched the two females with growing interest. They had been bent low

toward one another for an hour; no doubt sharing secrets and intimacies blocked from
other males hearing and insights. They were ripe for his touch and he knew just what
would turn their centers to liquid. Between the two, there would be enough juice to feed
him for a week. Maybe even satisfy him long enough to wean himself from the wicked
Angel holding him, strangling him tighter with every hour; warping his perception and
vision—corroding his very soul. Alvia would never condone his actions, never forgive;
but then Alvia was dead, lost to him for all eternity. All that remained was this hell, this
dark, dank, angry void where he resided except in the throws of Angels Gate, where he
swore he could still feel his mate living in other females—waiting for him to claim the
pods and free his Alvia. He had to have her back or the crushing vacuum would claim
him for all time. Angels Gate would make it happen. He would make it happen, for he
would bludgeon every portal until it was so.

“Tula, tell me, do you know anything of self-defense?” Nadia asked, out of the

blue.

Startled, Tula laughed. “If we knew aught of defense or using our bodies in a

destructive manner, we would not have required the assistance of your mate.”

“He is not my mate,” Nadia answered absently while covertly studying the burly

crewmember across the hall. His eyes were glazed and red-rimmed, and a coating of
sweat covered his face and bare arms. And he had not taken his gaze from them since he
entered.

“Tula, it is important that you do exactly as I ask with no questions or arguments.

Get up from the table now and exit quickly. Find Sherem and bring him here.”

“But…”

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“Now!” As Tula rose, the male charged toward her. Nadia stepped between the

two casually, facing him. “I don’t believe we have met, I am Nadia, Princess of Gattonia,
here at Prince Sherem’s request.” She made herself ready for confrontation.

Norric blinked; the vision of his mate super-imposed on that of the pretender. She

was keeping him from Alvia. If he killed the pretender, his Alvia would come to the fore
and be freed. The one trapping his mate would be no match for him, he doubled her in
weight. He approached slowly, sure of his goal. Alvia would help him. She didn’t want
to be in this other female. “Alvia, come to me. I will kill her and all will be right again.
This time I won’t let anyone harm you. I’ll never leave your side. Come to me, my only
love, we will kill the usurper together.”

He rushed the pretender, fixing his hands around her neck. She used his forward

momentum to roll back onto the floor and throw him a length behind her. She jumped up
and rubbed her throat, trying to get air though it. But he was stronger and more
determined. She would die.

“Sherem, the meeting hall. Your mate.” Bran disappeared through the panel

before either brother could react.

Sherem froze in mid-sentence then raced after Bran leaving Dakar to wonder what

had just occurred. The fleeting look Sherem had cast his brother had been one of terror.
He heard Dakar scramble up and follow in their wake.

Tula failed to register the whoosh that brushed past her as she rushed in the

opposite direction but when she spotted Sherem she screamed for him to hurry. Dakar,
rounding the corner several feet behind him, snagged her hand and kept running.

“Dakar,” she pleaded, frantically.
“Don’t worry,” he replied.
Sherem burst into the dining hall to see Nadia standing alone against a crazed

lunatic charging toward her. Her face was flushed, her expression focused and
determined while her neck showed purplish bruises, telling him it was not the first attack.
He raced toward her just as a wraith-like invisible force blew over her, trapping her
assailant. When Bran materialized, Nadia collapsed and stared, frozen. Bran gave her
his best tongue-hanging grin.

“You killed him,” Sherem accused, wanting the pleasure for himself. Bran stood

with his paws on the male’s chest, restricting his breathing.

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He backed off, observing the now unconscious human with interest. “I don’t

believe so, well perhaps, but not intentionally. He collapsed.”

“Are you all right, misulu?” Sherem reached Nadia in two strides and swept her

up into his arms. Too stunned to respond, she merely nodded threading her arms around
his neck. Her acquiescence alone alerted Sherem to her level of shock.

“You caused this,” Sherem accused, pinning Tula with a threatening glare.
“Of course she didn’t cause it,” Dakar defended. “What would she have to gain,

because if you think it is you, your ego has out-distanced you common sense. She is a
princess and no longer under your protection, for which I am sure she is grateful. Is this
not true?” Dakar leveled Tula with a glare equaling Sherem’s.

“You know it is true,” she reassured quietly. Then Tula faced Sherem. “Nadia

and I have become friends, despite you. I would do naught to hurt her, and though she
seems to tolerate you passably well, Prince Sherem, not all share her forbearance,” Tula
replied haughtily, showing her royal upbringing for the first time. Nadia giggled weakly,
jerking Sherem from his bemused state.

“Dakar, I do believe Princess Tula is over-set. Please escort her to her quarters.”

Sherem paused, “Tuly, are you hurt?” Nadia stiffened at the endearment and tried to pull
away but Sherem held her fast. Tula simply grinned.

“No, Nadia seemed to sense the eminent danger and sent me for help. She kept

him from me. I thank you,” Tula said, meeting Nadia’s gaze.

“My honor, princess. Defense classes begin in my quarters tomorrow before

breakfast.”

Tula nodded, a small smile playing around her mouth as she left with Dakar.
“I owe my thanks to you, Bran; I don’t know how much longer I could have kept

him at bay. You certainly know how to make an appearance. I didn’t see you coming,
how did you do that?”

Several crewmembers poured through the entrance to observe the aftermath of the

scuffle. “Take him to the Med-tech, I will follow in a few moments,” Sherem ordered
gruffly, then silently communicated for Bran to follow.

“Bran,” Nadia croaked softly. “Bran…” She tried again, a question pooling in

her wide gaze.

Sherem fought a grin. He’d had similar gasping moments when it came to his

protector and was still surprised speechless by him on occasion. “Bran can shift to near

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invisibility when it suits him. I don’t know how he accomplishes it, and am not privy to
other unusual talents, barring one or two.”

“Wow, I wish he could talk. Think of all he could tell us about his species, their

numbers, evolution, and other powers.”

“Be careful what you wish for…”
Nadia shook her head as if to clear it. “It’s strange, Sherem. Ever since I came

aboard the Portender, I sometimes hear voices in my head, almost like telepathy. Are
there Gattonians among your crew?”

“No. Maybe you are hearing snippets from the Miramid or your brother,” Sherem

proposed, “we approach galaxy jump within hours.”

“It doesn’t feel that way, it’s different, but I can’t explain how. Oh well, I am

sure it will come to light…or go away.”

Sherem lowered her gently to the ground though his every instinct demanded he

keep her crushed safely to him. “Come, I will escort you to your quarters before I report
to the Med-tech. Why did he attack you? Were you talking to or looking at him?”

Nadia stiffened. “Of course not. We were deep into a discussion when I noticed

him out of the corner of my eye. He appeared abnormally focused on us so I kept him in
view. When he stood and began circling his way toward us, I told Tula to get help before
he could block the exit, then I engaged his attention. But there was something odd about
his body movements and expression. He appeared drunk or dazed and he was talking to
someone not there.

Sherem, you have seen me in social situations; flirting is beyond my capabilities.

I would never—“

“Shh.” Sherem pressed a finger to her lips. “I know you would never. It is just

that I know this male; he is trustworthy and loyal, it is difficult to believe…you said
drunk or dazed? Come let us hurry.”

Even with long legs, keeping up proved difficult with Sherem’s powerful stride,

especially when the slight pressure of his hand on her back, propelling her along, seared
the small of her back.

“Stop,” she insisted, causing Sherem to catch her from falling because of the

forward momentum of his stride as their bodies collided. Nadia’s lips twitched as she
turned and pushed his massive frame an arm’s length from hers. “You are obviously in a
hurry to leave my company; again, so why don’t I just return to my cabin at my own

SHEREM

leisurely pace leaving you to do whatever it is you must do. Then whenever you can
spare a few minutes, possibly, we can endeavor to converse in complete sentences until
we have completed one entire conversation.”

“May I remind you that the only reason we are here is at your behest, Princess,

and that my responsibilities are numerous and time consuming.” Sherem immediately
changed his demeanor from commander to predator. His eyes smoldered with dark
promise. An involuntary tremor of awareness stole through Nadia’s anger and she took
an involuntary step back.

“If all you wanted was my undivided attention, my spitting tiger, a mere summons

to your chambers within the House of Ra would have accomplished the task neatly. As it
stands now, you may be assured that as soon as my business is concluded I will present
myself and we can communicate for the remainder of the night.”

“Must you twist every encounter to embody unbridled lust?”
Sherem coughed with the effort it took to hide a surprised laugh. From where did

these inflaming innuendos originate and did she even grasp the implications such banter
had on him? He took a sudden step toward her and grasped her upper arms, imprisoning
her while he studied her wide anxious eyes. Obviously, she did not. Sherem sighed in
frustration. How could one so innocent sprout the words of a courtesan?

“I desire you in every way, Nadia, make no mistake, but you are the one who

spoke of lust, not I, so it appears that possibly you are the one who twists my words
toward an intimate vane.”

Nadia’s cheeks flamed. She broke his hold on her with no effort and stormed

down the hallway with Sherem’s knowing laughter echoing behind her.

Sherem whistled the entire way to the Med-center.
Upon entering the med-tech Sherem barked, “Tell me.”
The tech jumped then turned around. “He’s on Angels Gate. We’re running a

scan to determine how imbedded it has become and from there will ascertain how long he
has been using.”

“Will he live?”
The MTE shrugged. “For now; long term depends on the level of addiction and

desire to survive.” The two stared at one another. Both knew of Norric’s loss during the
Dargon invasion and how hard he had taken it. “We can’t force him to live, my Prince,
even if it’s not too late.”

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“I know, Shad. Do you think he could be guilty of treason as well as drug use?”

Sherem asked wearily.

“I believe his quarters are being searched now.”
Sherem nodded. “I’ll check with Jorge. Let me know when he comes to

himself.”

“Do you want him taken to lock-up when he gains consciousness?”
“I’ll let you know.” Sherem went to the COM unit next to the Med entrance and

inquired as to Jorge’s location.

“We just finished searching Norric’s quarters. We found four vials of Angels

Gate, but not the one we are after. He could have all ready disposed of it, I suppose. It
could be the one responsible for his current condition.”

“I don’t believe so, he wouldn’t have had time to destroy it,” Sherem replied. He

disliked keeping the truth about the placebo but everyone on board must remain a suspect
for the time being. Many lives depended on it, to say nothing of his own. “Where is my
brother?” Sherem asked instead.

“We are too lax with that one. I had one of his guards escort him back to his

chambers and stay on guard until relieved. I still believe it would be safer for you if we
put him in lock-up; it is a nuisance rotating personnel at his door,” Jorge groused.

“He is my brother, Captain; I suggest you remember that; further, he is innocent

until proven otherwise. I will go to Dakar’s quarters now and relieve the person on duty;
Bran will keep watch for the remainder of the night. Oh, and Jorge.”

“Yes, my Prince,” Jorge answered formally, obviously backpedaling from his

earlier remarks.

“See that I am not disturbed until second watch tomorrow. I intend to catch up on

my rest.

“Jorge, modify that. If Norric gains consciousness, I want to talk to him. Good

night.”

“I will see to it,” he murmured softly. “Good night.”
The scene greeting Sherem on entering Dakar’s chambers proved perplexing.

Evening dimmers had been set, casting the room in a soft glow emulating candlelight
while soft music played in the background. The atmosphere felt cozy, intimate. Even
stranger, Tula sat curled up on the plush lounger with Dakar too close beside her. Both
encompassed twin auras of contentment.

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Shortly after Dakar’s arrival home almost two cycles past, he did nothing but

criticize Tula and her presence at the House of Baraden. And Tula, for her part, a master
in the arts of Fluerevitae, visibly bristled at the sight of his brother. Only days ago Dakar
asked that Tula be banned from his rooms. Sherem believed they hated one another.

Could this be the reason Tula insisted remaining with the Portender? The answer

proved a little daunting. He wondered exactly how long they had shared this bond. Why
had Dakar not confided in him, he would gladly have stepped aside for the couple.
Indeed, it would have made things a good deal easier for him.

They were staring, expectantly. Should he ignore their obvious accord or bring it

to the fore? Zazu, he had always believed he possessed an adequate understanding of the
female psyche, at least for a male. He smiled inwardly at his folly. No one understood
females, females didn’t even understand themselves.

“Am I interrupting a convergence of some importance?” he asked lightly.
Dakar snapped to alert and sprung from his seat as if waking from a trance, Tula

too, stood, looking like a child who had snatched a forbidden treat.

“No, of course not,” his brother denied too loudly. “Tula was only reviewing

what occurred earlier and she, um, didn’t want to be left alone, as yet. I was just, um,
keeping her company until she felt calm enough to return to her own quarters. And she is
calm now, so—“

“Yes,” she stated, cutting Dakar off, “I am centered now. Thank you Dakar for,

um, relaxing me.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll just go calmly to my rooms.”

“I don’t know, Tula, you don’t seem calm to me. You seem agitated, maybe you

should remain and I can return at a better time,” Sherem offered congenially.

“No, no Sherem. Tula has to go anyway.”
“Yes, I have clearly overstayed my welcome,” Tula agreed.
“Wait a minute, I didn’t say you had overstayed your welcome,” Dakar replied.
“Well you intimated,” she asserted.
“I most certainly did not do anything of the sort.”
Sherem backed out through the panel leaving the two to debate the finer points of

welcoming relaxation and moved down the corridor to Nadia’s chamber. He listened for
a few moments but heard no sound; he tripped the panel and it slid silently open to reveal
a dimly lit empty chamber. Sherem swore quietly and turned to leave when the sound of

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water stopped him. He smiled slowly, crossed the room, and stretched out on the large
soft sleeping mat…and waited.

He was not disappointed. The panel to the clean room slid open, emitting the

intoxicating scent of Nadia woven through a foggy mist and the faint outline of a goddess
from mythology. His senses shot to full alert. He felt the warm moist air from her skin
alight onto his, as the subtle currents from her movement teased his restraint. She entered
the umbra-cast room wearing nothing but a small bath blanket. The material left miles of
long sleek legs and lush female. She looked relaxed and sensual as she padded across the
room with natural grace. Her skin glistened and glowed from her bath and the tangy
scent of Assyllis, vanilla, and the female scent belonging to Nadia, alone, made him hard
as a stone. She mumbled to herself adorably and he reveled in the pleasure of seeing her
with her defenses down. He almost regretted the moment she discovered she was not
alone.

“Egotistical, conceited lout. I do not twist his words; he simply never listens to

himself.” She sighed. “But the way his eyes catch fire sometimes is enough to melt
plutonium.” Stamping her foot, she exhaled a disgusted “Humph”. “Lust should have
been his middle name, no his only name; that way it would warn hapless maidens to don
their chastity belts and hold their noses. Dirt eating scarub; he has me talking to myself
again.

“Computer, lock for the night and post the privacy sign.”
“As you wish, Princess Nadia.”
The Portender did not have nearly the amenities of the Miramid but security

functions abounded. No one would intrude on her privacy. She hadn’t realized how
crowded she would feel with Sherem on the same ship. It seemed every time she turned
around he was there standing close enough to touch or across a room staring at her with
unerring predatory intent. And though her words erected barriers of propriety, her body
rebelled with unrelenting desire. How much longer would she succeed in keeping him at
bay when it abounded as something both of them wanted—only for different reasons.
Was his experience with females so vast as to be able to fake the hunger in his gaze? She
would take the high road until she knew the answer. And if she found it was the Assyllis
that put the possessive gleam in his eyes, would she still take him to mate in hopes of
eventually capturing his heart? She shuddered.

SHEREM

Nadia moved to the built in storage drawers, draped her wrap on the nearby chair,

and bent to fish out a sleeping gown. At a sharp intake of breath she swung around,
shielding herself with the silken convection she’d grabbed and identified a large figure
materializing from her mat. She drew in a breath to scream.

“Misulu, don’t,” Sherem ordered quietly as he reached for her, pushing her up

against the wall, aligning their bodies and gently covering her mouth with a finger.

Nadia froze at the myriad of sensations pummeling her senses. His uniform,

while not rough, had enough texture to make her nipples bud and her breasts grow heavy.
The combination of hard thick erection protruding into her abdomen and Sherem’s
masculine scent disoriented her. She felt as if she had just fallen into one of her
forbidden fantasies.

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Chapter Eleven

“Don’t scream,” he reiterated. “I will take my hand away but first nod to let me

know you understand. I did not intend to frighten you, sweetheart, please forgive me.”

Nadia nodded. He took his hand away but did not move or say a word. Had his

arousal jutting into her tummy in uneven pulses rendered him speechless?

The only sound apparent was the slight hum of the engines and their heightened

breathing. She could feel the results of his by the warm breeze on her hair and neck just
below her left ear. Her tender nipples grew even more sensitized, a result of her rapid,
shallow breathes, forcing those buds up and down. With every minute stroke, an
electrical charge jolted her belly and lower, increasing the sensation until she felt as if she
would shatter. His scent intoxicated with every whiff and the tuft of hair visible above
the V of his uniform teased her lips with its springy softness. She had fantasized running
her fingers through his chest hair for longer than she could remember. Why didn’t he
speak or do something to break this impossible current? She heard a groan but was too
lost in rapture to distinguish its origin. He bent slightly and scooped a callused hand
under each of her buttocks and began to move, rocking in slow stroking movements. She
felt his member expand and harden even more, as he lifted her to burrow into the folds of
her womanhood, spreading her wide. Pressure, hot and insistent, began to build within
her, coiling in her lower belly tighter and tighter with every contact. Sherem remained
fully clothed, how could it feel so intimate, so overwhelming. His rhythm changed to a
circular motion with harder, determined strokes. Suddenly the coil, wound too tightly,
burst and she gasped out her release in loud staccato moans, burying her face into the
place just under his tensely strained jaw.

Sherem murmured nonsense words striving to comprehend the previous five

minutes. He was overwhelmed, elated, and rock hard. Nadia had come apart in his arms,
more responsive than any encounter in his vast experience. And she belonged to him.
The thought made his cock harden to bursting. If he did not take her in the next few

SHEREM

moments, he would spew inside his uniform; a condition too embarrassing to
contemplate. He cradled Nadia’s limp, sated body and lowered her onto the sleep mat.
Her golden skin glowed with a slight coating of moisture, her sleepy eyes narrowed on
him beneath thick lashes, and a soft smile beckoned him to her. Her sun-kissed hair
fanned out on the pillow, across her shoulders, and coated her breasts playing peek-a-boo
with her dusty-rose nipples. A more glorious sight he had never beheld.

He slowly released the fastenings on his fitted tunic and drew it off exposing

muscled, hair covered chest, corded shoulders and biceps, and a steel banded abdomen.
Nadia was grateful she lay on the mat or she would have sunk to the floor in one sizzling
puddle. The males of Gattonia were without body hair so the sight of him made for an
exotic playground for her eyes and touch. He leveled a knowing grin as he loosed his
pants and slid them down, then his boots and stepped out of both, revealing his massive
form. She knew he expected some reaction but her vocal cords had frozen. He was
shaped like a god. She gulped; a fertility god. Her gaze took in his chest hair, the way it
swirled around his nipples in disarray then gathered in arrowed formation down the
center of his torso to a large nest at the apex of his thighs, showcasing his erection as it
plunged through the inky nest. She wondered how that springy mass would feel pressed
against her breasts. Was it silky like his mane or textured like his beard? Now that the
moment had arrived, she felt equal parts apprehension and anticipation.

He took a step toward her, kneeled on the mat, then came up and over her in one

fluid motion reminding her of a panther claiming his prey…or his mate. Tremors
skidded up her spine at the thought. He had tried to claim her over three cycles ago when
she was just shy of seventeen. Now, two days past her twentieth, he would succeed. She
had come to crave him on so many levels she had lost count—and now he would seal her
fate for all time. A somewhat belated birthday gift. Would it prove the best or worst she
had ever received?

The shadow of a smile touched her lips as she felt his weight pin her into place.

His waiting finally at an end, caused arrow after arrow of emotion piece his heart. His
lips took hers in a searing kiss of possession. His hand covered her breast and squeezed.
At her gasp his tongue took her mouth and explored every inch, setting a rhythm that was
most likely becoming familiar to her. Instead of lying pliant under him, she ignited into
an explosion of lapping fire. Her hands grazed his arms, shoulders, and back; her fingers
in turn kissing and searing his skin. He groaned.

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“Spread your legs, Nadia.” She complied, bending her knees until she cradled his

hips and groin with damp promise.

He ran his hand across her slightly rounded abdomen down to the downy cloud

covering her entrance and ran his index finger around her opening and then inside. Her
creamy juices anointed his finger. Nadia groaned, grinding her hips restlessly striving for
more friction; more of what he promised with every gesture. His control hung by a
thread, but he must go slowly. Be gentle. Two words no one would ever associate with a
Nefari male. Sweat beaded his forehead, neck, and back with the effort it took to hold
back. Nadia squirmed under him and he notched one step closer to his warrior self where
conquering eclipsed reason. She was lost in herself, he realized—reaching for release.
He put two fingers inside her marveling at her narrow passage then circled her clitoris
with his calloused thumb. She jumped in response. He continued until her inner walls
began to convulse then pressed firmly on the now protruding nub. She screamed her
release, calling his name over and over, and he kissed her with a passion he didn’t know
he possessed.

She was ready for him, hot for him, he could sate himself, take her, use her. He

froze.

“Sherem, you have stopped, is something wrong? Uh—are we through?”
He would not meet her gaze. “No.” He did not recognize his voice.
“Sherem, I am not a snowflake. I will not melt or disintegrate. Please love me.”
His control evaporated like so much mist. “Ah, but you will melt and

disintegrate. I will see to it.” He plunged into her with one driving motion through the
taut barrier protecting her innocence. He found her passage so tight he nearly spilled his
seed right then. Were all virgins so snug and unyielding? Until Nadia he had only been
with females of experience. She screamed with what he hoped signaled rapture, because
burrowed deep inside, touching her center, his warrior side took rein. She alone proved
more potent than any aphrodisiac. He drove into her wet heat again and again, faster and
harder. Wanting to go deep—deep into her very core where he could claim and keep her
for all time. His seed burst forth, his orgasm stronger than any he remembered. He
arched up above her and screamed his surrender.

Never having lain with a virgin, he hoped that in rushing their first coupling

Nadia would be more amenable to a second round. For part of what he intended to
accomplish that night stood uncompleted. His mark of possession. For the moment,

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though, she had yielded and taken him inside her body giving him a home for eternity. He
collapsed onto her, holding her close, nestling her head in the crook of his neck and
shoulder.

For the first few moments he could do nothing but feel the aftershocks of mating,

but then he noticed that his mate had grown still and silent. When had that occurred?
Was she as drained as he? Moisture worked its way down his neck and chest, could it be
his sweat or…

“Misulu,” he rasped as he propped himself on his elbows to study his mate. What

he witnessed leached all satisfaction and triumph from him.

Tears coursed down Nadia’s cheekbones and into her hair as she sniffed,

swallowing a whimper. It had hurt like Dargon hell. She knew that some virgins
experienced more pain than others, and that occasionally females naturally perforated
their hymen through athletic sport, feeling no pain at all their first time. She obviously fit
into the first category because for a few moments she was certain Sherem had rent her in
two. As he had continued to move inside her, the feeling had changed to pleasure-pain
and finally more of an itch she needed him to scratch, building toward that amazing
pinnacle he had given her before…

And then he stopped.
After all the love scenes she had read it was—well—a let down. The pain had

subsided but left a residue of frustration similar to the moment you take your first large
lick off an ice cream cone only to have the round creamy confection tumble to the ground
with a sickening splat. Sherem had pulled out. Another regrettable loss, and was now
mumbling a barrage of apologies.

“Please cease your tears, misulu, it will be my undoing,” he groaned, miserably.

Nadia blinked and focused on his fathomless dark eyes etched in pain.

“Your undoing?” Nadia blinked. She hadn’t been really crying from the pain so

much as the overwhelming experience of finally being one with Sherem. “It was not that
bad; it only hurt for a moment. I must have had a thick barrier, but it doesn’t burn any
longer. I am fine, truly. It was just somewhat, uh…anticlimactic after all I’ve read about
lovemaking.”

Her words ricocheted through his ego like a POD set on destroy; its multiple

blasts taking out every target in sight with effortless precision. He had pleasured
hundreds of females multiple times and learned many lessons along the way. Yet with his

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own mate, whom he had chosen over all others, he measured “not that bad”, and
“anticlimactic”. He cleared his throat, deciding to focus on her last words. “You have
read books on making love?”

“Well, of course. I am Gattonian. We are scholars, curious about all things. You

are familiar with our culture,” she reminded him, growing a little uncomfortable at his
sudden focus.

“You are familiar with the Kama Sutra?” he probed carefully.
“Umm, only the first book. Cat thought it would be educational after all the

romances I’ve read.”

“These romances contain graphic descriptions of the sexual act?”
“Well, of course,” she stated a little defensively, “the characters in it fall madly

and passionately in love and the natural extension of that love is, umm, you know.”

Her entire body shaded from embarrassment and no wonder. They had just made

love for the first time; she was divest of clothing, and currently engaged in a sexually
explicit discussion with said first time lover who remained magnificently naked. She felt
admittedly awkward in exposing her secret obsession of reading material and groaned
inwardly. What would he think of her now?

“And after all this ah…research and hours of study you still refer to the act of

making love as “umm, you know”?”

If Sherem hadn’t been lying across the only cover available, she would have dove

under it and not resurfaced until she starved. Why was he behaving this way? She felt as
if he was interrogating her for a supposed crime.

He smiled and his eyes lit with an unholy glint that could not bode well.
“So, you believe my technique could stand improving.” The comment was more

statement than question.

“Well, not the technique precisely; as far as I could tell, you handled everything in

the correct manner. I suppose I thought that coming from a warrior race and with your,
uh, considerable exploits, the experience would have been more riveting.”

“Riveting.”
“Umm.”
He had made her squirm enough, he supposed, but he thoroughly enjoyed seeing

her flustered and her barriers down. The time had come to reassure her.

SHEREM

He leaned over, running a battle callused finger across her collarbone, just under

her left breast, then down her tummy before speaking. “I have never lain with a virgin
before, and strove to take you with as much care as I could muster. I am deeply sorry if I
caused you undo discomfort with my clumsy actions. I promise that you will experience
no more pain only unrelenting pleasure from this moment forward.” He brought his right
thigh over hers, cupped the back of her head, and began making love to her lush lips over
and over until both of them panted for more. He paused to study her closely. Her eyes
were dream-dazed, her pulse fluttering rapidly, and her cheeks flushed with desire. She
wanted him again but after the pain of her initiation…and to give her a sample of her own
medicine, he decided to withhold his attentions. They would not make love that night but
neither would he be parted from her. And in the morning, after a leisurely bath…

“Not tonight, however, for you will be sore from the tear of your hymen and

previously unused muscles—and I find that I am quite sated and content to sleep.” A
boldfaced lie, of course. He rose and vanished into the clean room only to emerge a
moment later with a cloth which he used to wipe gently between her legs after spreading
them wide and looking his fill. He threw the damp scrap onto the nightstand and slid in
beside her, informing, “From now on I will share your mat, so as to accustom you to my
touch and presence.”

“Wait,” she ordered looking disgruntled and slightly offended. “I did not give

you permission to enter my chambers, or take my virginity, or share my mat. Until I do I
suggest that you return to your own.”

Sherem hid his amusement behind a mask of innocent confusion. The haughty,

cool expression firmly affixed made her look like a regal queen addressing a serf. No
longer fooled by her demeanor, he nodded and rose.

“As you wish, Princess,” he said magnanimously, slipping into his trousers and

boots, then donning his shirt. “I only thought that since we are so comfortable, it seems a
shame to move elsewhere.”

“I am sure you will be as comfortable in your own chambers as you obviously are

in mine,” she encouraged, a satisfied glint shining within her amber depths, believing she
had won.

“Only you can release the privacy lock to let me exit,” he advised, seemingly

resigned. It would not do to let her know he could over-ride any panel command; he
might need it later to bring her into line.

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“Panel, over-ride privacy command and open.” The panel silently complied.
Sherem bent low over Nadia, she believed for a good night kiss. Then he scooped

her naked form up, coverings and all and made for the exit. Nadia yelped and sputtered,
speechless for a moment then shrieked, “What do you think you are doing, I told you to
go.” She squirmed in an effort to free herself…and Sherem fought the urge to laugh. He
had not felt so amused in cycles.

“I am only complying with your wishes. I think you are right, I believe we will

be more comfortable on my mat. It is larger and will facilitate freer lust sport.”

Sherem strode briskly down the corridor, holding Nadia high on his chest as if she

weighed no more than a feather, grinning despite…or because of her protests. “If you
wish to keep Dakar and Tula from observing your state of undress, I’d suggest you keep
quiet. If on the other hand you want to announce your new status as my mate then feel
free to resume your happy tirade.” She drew a fist back to plant a well-deserved punch
when he softly advised, “Put that arm around my neck right now, or I will drop you and
take the comforter with me.”

Nadia froze. They were passing Dakar’s rooms but Tula’s was at the other end of

the ship. “You believe Tula is with Dakar?”

Sherem shrugged. “They were together when I left to come to your chambers. I

have a feeling they remain so.”

The implication was clear. Nadia felt happy for her friend but wondered at

Sherem’s blasé comment. “This doesn’t bother you?” She lifted her head to study his
expression. A smile flitted across his mouth.

“No, misulu, I have the female I want and desire no other. I am beginning to

believe that perhaps my brother and Tula deserve one another. Oomph. Watch the
elbow, sweet one.”

SHEREM

Chapter Twelve

Sherem ducked into a private lift Nadia had never before noticed. “Take us,”

Sherem murmured and Nadia felt them ascend rapidly at a blur but before she could lose
her evening meal, they came to a stop. The panel opened to reveal a huge chamber
overflowing in lush accoutrements and Nadia gasped her amazement. She squirmed and
this time Sherem released her, allowing her to explore. She kept the comforter securely
in place, covering her from neck to toes.

Nadia’s chambers included two rooms for sleeping and hygiene. They were a

cross between function and comfort with a few items of luxury like the cut-jeweled lamps
on either side of her vanity and a cozy fireplace, both superfluous with no real purpose,
but for the aesthetic pleasure it gave the occupant.

Sherem’s chambers, however, were opulent, even by Gattonian standards. He had

a living area with lounges and chairs of the same material as his over tunics, pants and
boots only the colors of his rooms were bursting with primary colors and rich,
complementary pastels. Very Gattonian in feel and style. The carpets littering the floor
and walls were of the highest quality Jasperian silk. They muted the regular lighting
imbedded in the walls, creating a warm, intimate retreat. Large pillows in front of the
floor to ceiling holographic fireplace completed the room. Nadia was speechless. She
made her way to the sleeping chamber to find a huge raised platmat with multiple
comforters and a built-in technology unit. Dressers and vanity below large mirrors
extended from an adjacent wall and murals of both Gattonian and Nefari landscapes
decorated every available wall space. She snuck a glance over her shoulder to catch
Sherem lounging in the doorway, arms folded across his chest and ankles crossed,
tracking her with an inscrutable expression that gave nothing of his intentions away.
Realization dawned. He had done all of this for her. Warm, thick pleasure spread though
her like honey. How long had he planned to have her aboard his ship and in his
chambers. Had all this been accomplished in the days after her visit? That would mean

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he knew from the beginning he intended to help her and only delayed in order to do this
for her. Overcome by the implications she escaped to the clean room…only to recognize
the bathing pool as the one he had immersed them both after her ordeal. He must have
moved her to her current quarters after injecting the sleeping potion. This room, too, was
spacious with a corner free-standing shower built for two.

She sighed. She’d expected a stark, utilitarian warrior’s quarters not this

luxurious, spacious…Nadia paused and cocked her head in consternation then marched
into the main room searching for another panel. “Where is it?”

“Where is what, misulu?” Sherem answered uncertainly. His chambers had been

radically modified to please her. What had he forgotten?

“The place you keep your weapons and equipment. You would not allot yourself

quarters where you couldn’t readily defend yourself.”

A half smile lit his eyes as he entered the sleeping chambers and walked to the

massive platmat. “Weapon chest, open.” The entire pedestal opened revealing a cache of
weapons larger than any Nadia had ever glimpsed, all neatly placed. Enough to take out
a small planet, from the looks of it.

At Nadia’s incredulous stare, Sherem raised a shoulder and said, “I like to be

prepared.”

Next, he crossed the room to the mural of Gattonia. “Safe-room test, J.” The

mural, about twelve feet wide and ten feet tall, opened exposing a large area filled with a
miniature ship.

“It’s a POD kept travel ready at all times. This room is indestructible and

impenetrable; the only voice that can open it is mine. Safe-room, the following voice is
allotted the highest security and access commands, memorize.” He motioned for her to
identify herself.

Nadia cleared her throat; unsure of whether her voice would work and croaked,

“Hello, J. My name is Princess Nadia of the House of Ra and Province of Gattonia, uh,
how do you do?”

“I am perfect, Princess Nadia of the House of Baraden and Province of Nefar.

Your voice has been stored. Thank you and have a nice day.” The panel closed. Nadia
began to giggle both at Sherem’s audacity and also at the program itself.

“You did that on purpose, Barbarian of Baraden.” Giggling even harder at the

title that so fit him. And he’s so polite,” she commented through fits of hick-ups.

SHEREM

Sherem grinned and shrugged, inordinately pleased he had made her smile. “If

anything happens to the ship, do not evacuate with the others, come here, and wait in the
POD. It has its own life-support system and can carry as many as six passengers. I will
join you as soon as I can. If you find yourself floating in space, tell J to jettison the
protective carton and lay in coordinates for Gattonia. Nefar may be unstable for a time.
Wait for my parents to arrive to introduce yourself. They will take care of you and the
babe, if you have conceived.”

Nadia’s giggles came to an abrupt halt with both guilt and what his instructions

implied. “What are you saying? Are you trying to scare me? This is a star-ship; no one
but another star-ship would dare attack, and how many others can there be in this vast
universe? Only the major powers have them.”

“Have you forgotten about the Dargons and the myriad of other advanced and

sometimes depraved species? Believe me, Nadia, space travel is not safe, but I will guard
you with my life along with my warriors, you need not be overly concerned.”

As if the statement was prophetic, sirens began to sound. “Speak Jorge,” Sherem

barked into the band at his wrist.

“Trouble. Space raiders, we believe. They tried to catch us unaware by taking

out our south cargo entrance. They were only partially successful.”

“What of the shields? How were they able to penetrate them?”
“I do not have an answer, commander; and it scares the skin off me.” What he

neglected to voice, Nadia knew, spelled sabotage.

Sherem’s ground-eating stride took him to his clothes cove in less than a second.

He donned a deep burnished copper, one piece, metallic suit that covered everything,
including his eyes and threw a similar suit to her. He looked like a giant, spooky scepter,
and the picture he presented momentarily frightened Nadia. It was as if a death-shadow
had swallowed him. When he accessed the cache of weapons and grabbed two hand
blazers and several lazulite blades, sheathing them inconspicuously, she took a step back
as he approached her.

“This is not a game, Nadia. Put that suit on right away. It locks automatically

and cannot be breached. Do not move from this spot. I will return when the danger is
past.”

He vanished out the panel before she could even wish him luck. She looked

dubiously at the body sheath and cringed. She let the comforter pool around her feet and

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slipped into the suit. It felt like skin and while not quite see through, the shadow-sheath
hugged her every curve and valley. She almost giggled, of course it was skin; it was
peeled from the Kameri serpent. She recalled how Sherem’s skin felt next to hers, the
friction of his chest hair brushing her breasts, and groaned. Could she go to her chambers
for clothing or fit into Sherem’s and put the body armor over it? She recognized defeat
when presented to her. She refused to secure the headpiece, as yet, but sat down on his
mat to decide her next move. Just as she sat, she jumped up and ordered, “J, open the
weapons chest.” If they were in danger, she would be armed. Nadia had not only trained
with her brother and Prolinc but had also benefited from tips from Cat and Dee learning
many dirty tricks that would hopefully come in handy.

The drawer slid silently open and she grabbed the only weapon that looked

familiar. It was similar to the blazer she had trained with and she set it on disarm. She
didn’t want to take the chance of killing someone on their side.

The wait seemed interminable, listening for the sound of combat, wanting to join

in the battle for the ship. Wanting to protect Sherem, no matter how ludicrous the
sentiment. As she stood to leave, someone banged on her panel.

“Who is it?” she demanded.
“Part of the prince’s guard, my lady. He sends for you. The battle, though well

fought, left him wounded. He is calling for you.”

Nadia paused, digesting the message. For one, she doubted anyone could get the

advantage over Sherem. His battles and exploits were legend. Two, if he was wounded
he would certainly not send an entire guard for her. And finally, she doubted he had a
prince’s guard. He was too much the barbarian warrior to tolerate it. Bran and Dakar
were all he needed at his side.

In every romance novel she had read where someone, whether it be someone the

heroine knew or not, wanted to take her to the wounded hero’s side; it spelled set-up.
Her heart began beating double-time; her mind racing right along with it. She set her
weapon on destroy. Sherem was right; this was not a game.

What would happen if she just ignored their summons and disappeared into the

‘carton’, as Sherem called it? She could never identify the culprits, or determine if they
were a part of the crew or from the raiders. Moreover, if they were dressed as she, the
COM record unit would, most likely, not be able to identify them. But of one thing she
was certain—J could.

SHEREM

“J, allow forced entrance and record,” she whispered.
“Princess Nadia, I must advise caution…”
She cut him off. “J--just do as I ask.”
She heard grumbles from outside the panel. “My Lady, I am afraid that time is of

the essence. We must insist.” Came the summons, once again.

She detected at least two voices arguing in hushed urgency. Did they sound just a

bit panicked?

Nadia made her decision at that moment. She jumped beneath the covers, hiding

her suit and replied. “I can’t believe he sent for me. He knows I am not feeling well.
How dare he disturb me with his petty injuries. Tell him to come here if he wants to see
me. I am a princess, after all, and have a delicate constitution. Now go away and let me
get some rest.” She waited, feeling both amused and adrenalin charged. She braced
herself. After a few moments of silence she thought she had succeeded—then the panel
failed and two burley males in Nefari uniform swanked in. She had never seen them
before. They held their hand blazers laxly at their sides in a mildly threatening manner
but were not dressed for battle, and the Nefari dagger, normally present at their side, was
missing.

“I am afraid that the prince’s orders were clear, but not to worry, we’ll carry you

if you’re too weak to walk.”

“As if,” Nadia snorted. When they advanced into the room Nadia shot her blazer

through the covers and disarmed one intruder before they realized anything amiss. While
the male screamed that his hand was gone, another tried to stun her through the
comforter. It didn’t feel great but it failed to incapacitate her. She fired her next shot at
his arm but missed and he lunged for her. She rolled to the far side of the platmat and
used it for cover. He grabbed at her, barely missing leaving her no choice, she aimed for
his head. He went down as warriors flooded Sherem’s quarters. Nadia sank to the floor;
surely the entire ship was not filled with traitors.

“Nadia,” Sherem bellowed. She smiled. He sounded like a mother bear coming

to the defense of her young. A telepathic probe brushed against her thoughts and she
immediately sealed her mind. It was the unknown telepath, once again. Her flesh
tightened in reaction.

Sherem tore through the Nefari warriors blocking his path to Nadia. The lift to

his private quarters was concealed, and only someone with the plans or those of his first

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level crew knew of its location. So how had it been breached so effortlessly? He
practically tripped over two burly males at the entrance to his sleeping chambers. Had
Nadia escaped to the carton, as she should have? Across three layers of his crew, their
eyes met and held. She was safe. “Norgoz, report,” Sherem barked. Norgoz, one of
Jorge’s most trusted officers, stood over the downed males.

“They are not familiar to me, sir. Perhaps they are from Engineering or Safety

and Support. MTEs are on the way.”

Sherem nodded knowing he left out the clearest probability—that they were not

members of the Portender at all, just dressed as such. “Remove those two to the secured
Med Center on lower level 6 and clear the room. I will debrief the princess myself.
Inform Jorge I will get back to him when I have finished here.

In moments, the room was cleared, leaving in its wake blood-soaked carpets,

splattered walls, and ceiling. Nadia shrugged, an impish smile playing at the corners of
her mouth. Sherem studied her closely, mesmerized by the way the Kameri leather
hugged every inch of her body, leaving nothing at all to the imagination. Noting, too, the
tazer burn on her right shoulder. He reached out to touch the area then reached for the
opening of her suit and lowered it exposing her shoulder. A choc-tea colored bruise the
size of his fist marred the perfection of her satiny skin. So delicate, he realized. The shot
should not have left a mark. Nadia cleared her throat noisily bringing his gaze back to
hers.

“What happened, misulu?”
“They told me you were wounded and wanted to see me.” He nodded for her to

continue.

“I knew they were lying so I armed myself and waited.”
“That was wise of you but you should have remained hidden until I arrived and

released you myself.”

Nadia cocked her head to one side, as if confused, then her expression cleared. “I

meant I waited in your sleeping chambers. I got under the covers and waited.”

A red haze spread across his vision and filled his ears with a pulsating roar that all

but blotted out his next words. “You thought that hiding under the covers would prevent
detection from armed intruders?”

“Of course not.” She crossed her arms in front of her and began tapping her foot.

“I wanted to see the people stupid enough to believe I would fall for a line like theirs. I

SHEREM

also needed to know if they were part of your crew or the pirates. If I had hidden in the
carton, we would never have been sure. In addition, they knew I was in here and if I had
disappeared, they would have torn the place apart looking for me; in doing so, figured out
that you have a hidden room somewhere off your chambers. Since you told me it was
important no one know of its existence, I decided to stay in the open and fight it out.”
Nadia sounded very pleased with her solution, apparently unaware of the growing inferno
Sherem fought to control.

“So instead of taking cover to better protect yourself, you chose to relax on my

mat?” Sherem’s voice slurred to molten gravel.

“No! You are not listening—“
“I am listening well enough to know that you put your life in danger when

protection was only a panel away.” He knew he was out of control but could not stop.
“What if they had shot you? Hells fire, they did shoot you!”

“Concealed as I was under the covers, they couldn’t have harmed me.”
“What if they had aimed for your head?” He fired back.
“Why would they do that, it was simply another kidnapping attempt. I would do

no good to them dead.”

“What if they had simply missed,” he began.
“I hadn’t really thought of—“
“Before you managed a lucky hit?” he finished.
“I assure you luck had nothing to do—“
“What if they had overpowered you?”
“You assured me that no one could breach the body suit.”
“Only when the headpiece is in place and locked. They could have peeled you

out of it in seconds.”

“Well, you left out that part.” Nadia mumbled, turning bright crimson, obviously

recalling her state of undress.

Sherem followed her train of thought and traced his gaze over every delectable

inch of her. Without under-clothing, the sheath clung like her own skin, changing her
from amber to textured deep bronze similar to snake skin. He broke out in a cold sweat
as his manhood grew hot and hard as a red poker. He refused to mention that had she
wanted to surprise them to get off the first shot, simply standing in front of them would
have accomplished it nicely.

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100

Nadia’s nipples budded under Sherem’s perusal and she wanted to cover herself

lest he realize how he affected her. Her gaze collided with Sherem’s and desire flashed
between them stronger than a bolt of lightening. Nadia had not been quite honest with
him concerning their first bout of lovemaking for though it had hurt more than
anticipated; she was more overwhelmed than complacent, and anxious to try it again.

Sherem’s mouth kicked up slightly as he softly ordered, “Take off your armor,

Nadia, I would check you for further damage.” He honestly did not know whether his
anger at her, his concern for her well being, or blatant animal instinct to bend her to his
will, rode him the hardest. He only knew he had to be in her, dominate her, and punish
her for risking herself and not following his directives.

“Uh, Sherem, I think you should see to your crew and maybe, uh, interrogate the

prisoners…”

“First, there is something I must teach you, misulu. Never again will you put

yourself in harms way. Protecting you has become my first priority, surpassing that of
my own safety and that of my crew. You must have a care.” With each word carefully
delivered in subdued modulation she was at once mesmerized and cautious, even more so
noting the determined gleam in his eyes.

“Oh! You would blame me for your lack of concentration and the consequences

to your crew? I will not buy that threat so don’t even begin to propose it.”

“Do not think to deflect my purpose, Nia mine, for it will commence.” Without

giving her a moment to react, he struck; snaking his hands around her waist and tossing
her face down across the sleeping mat. Holding her neck in place he took her body armor
and demonstrated what he had alluded to before. That it could be peeled off in one fluid
motion. Leaving her totally exposed to him—helpless. She found the mixture of fear
and anticipation a powerful aphrodisiac. He grabbed her hands and pulled them above
her head securing them with one hand and glided his other down her spine raising chills
and a shudder as he reached the crack of her mons. She could feel her uterus contract
excreting the thick proof of her arousal. She squirmed in protest.

He dipped a long finger into her essence, swirled it around her clitoris, then up to

her anus where he plunged it in. She yelped in a combination of surprise, discomfort and
erotic bliss. He found a place deep within her and began toying with it, circling until her
contractions built toward climax. Then pulled out.

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101

She opened her mouth to voice her outrage when he leaned over her and

whispered against her ear. “Move your hands when I remove mine and I will lash them
to the headboard.”

“Stop, Sherem. I will not allow you to take me in anger.”
“I am your mate and will take in any manner I see fit in order to achieve your

abeyance,” he stated.

“You are not my mate so you have no right.” Nadia pushed up seeking to

unbalance him and he growled as he hooked an arm around her waist holding her in
place, trapped her hands, once again, and murmured unfamiliar words as her hands sunk
into the mattress, holding her immobile. “Release me, barbarian. What have you done?
What is this contraption?”

“One that will hold you until you know the one you belong to.” He placed several

pillows under her belly exposing her to his perusal. He spread her wide, bent down and
began lapping her entrance, sucking and nipping. The combination of arousal and fear
had her reacting in a way foreign to her nature—or what she always believed to be her
nature. Gone was the self-contained, dispassionate princess and in her place a raging,
cornered hellcat fighting his and her own desires.

He replaced his mouth with his cock and surged to the core of her where he

paused, plastering himself shoulder to thigh, panting as if in the midst of a marathon.
“You are mine,” he bit out as he pulled out and thrust hard into her once again. And then
plunged into her hard again and again, reaching further, deeper into her passage until she
was screaming and begging for release. Stars burst from behind her eyes in a furious
detonation of euphoria. As her tears soaked into the mat she felt his shaft at the entrance
of her other opening even as the aftermath of her orgasm continued and somehow
intensified. Equal parts ashamed and aroused as he pushed the head of his arousal into
that forbidden place; she struggled against the pain and pleasure of his possession. How
dare he seek to conquer her in this manner.

“Stop struggling or this will prove even harder for both of us. I will impose my

will, Nia, and you will submit even if I have to use dominance, discomfort, and carnal
desire. By the time I am through, you will beg for my dominion, my weight and my rule
over you. For I will not stop until it is so.” He worked his way into her gradually with
measured strokes and Nadia hated his ruthless demonstration of his power over her even
as she craved it. He was tearing her in two and she screamed in both indignant rage and

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102

seething hunger. His hard length into her anus felt different, full, erotic, forbidden. He
drove into her for what seemed like eternity giving no quarter…and no release.

“Please,” she begged.
“Please what, misulu,” he demanded.
“Please, Sherem, don’t do this. Don’t take my dignity…my…” She stopped as a

sob clogged the rest of her plea.

“Misulu, no.” He changed his pace and began circling and pinching her elongated

clitoris until she cried out in relief and completion.

“Forgive me,” he rasped before he bit into her leaving the mark that would prove

her his and she screamed as another orgasm stronger than the first ripped through her.

He murmured a phrase that released her hands and rolled them to their side

holding her fast.

Sherem wondered what insanity had possessed him to treat his mate in such a

barbaric manner. Everything she had ever accused him of proved true. He had never lost
such utter control of himself and in such a brutish sexual display of ownership. He pulled
her even closer nuzzling his face into her neck and took in her scent; the scent of their sex
intertwined and the slight hint of blood mixed in with her sweat. He grew hard all over
again.

“Nia…I…” What could he possibly say to make things right?
Sherem gently caressed her shoulder and ran his hand down her arm, kissing and

laving the bruised and bleeding mating tattoo. She relaxed and rolled her head back,
giving him access to her neck and shoulder. He whispered endearments, offering
entreaties for her pardon. She merely groaned in response.

The COM speaker chose that moment to buzz, signaling a message. Both froze

until it buzzed again. Sherem cleared his throat. “I must go, the prisoners must be
interrogated.”

Nadia turned onto her back, studying him through slitted eyes. “What is

happening, Sherem? Who attacked the Portender and why would two of your crew come
after me?”

Sherem gave her a lop-sided smile though his expression remained somber and

contrite. “That is exactly what I intend to discover.” His voice dropped, becoming
compelling. “Then we will…talk, misulu…at length.”

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“Wait,” she said, scrambling off the mat, exposing her voluptuous curves for his

perusal. “I want to come along, it pertains to me too. In one week I have endured two
kidnapping attempts. Don’t you think it’s time I learned why?”

Sherem paused and then replied, “You may accompany me and listen on one

condition.” Here it comes, Nadia thought. “If I tell you to leave and return to our
chambers, you will not argue but leave immediately.”

“Our chambers?” she questioned.
“Nadia, yes or no,” he cut in.
She sighed, “Oh, all right. I agree.”
“First you will re-don your armor under outer clothing. I want you protected.”

He went to his dresser and pulled out an exquisite Nefari robe of pearl velvet. The ankle
length, sleeves, and tapered design fit perfectly and she wondered how many other
females had worn it before her. She smiled, at least she knew Tula was not one of them,
it would have swallowed her.

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Chapter Thirteen

Nadia and Sherem arrived at the interrogation level to alarms, running security

personnel, and MTEs.

“Return to our rooms,” Sherem commanded.
“Not right now,” Nadia replied.
Sherem turned to her, incredulous. “You promised you would obey me.”
“And I will—just as soon as we find out what has occurred,” Nadia reassured.
“Does everything have an out clause you can utilize at your discretion?” The

question was innocuous enough but the very air surrounding them became charged, as if
he was about to spring some elaborate trap…again.

Nadia squirmed and chose her words carefully. “There are more important

concerns to be dealt with at the moment, but afterward I will do your bidding. Please
Sherem, I would stay with you.” Something in his demeanor changed as he stepped
closer and ran a finger along her jaw line. His gaze pinned hers and then dropped to her
mouth, he bent his head toward hers—

“Commander, er, your Highness. I regret to report that the prisoners are dead.

One from a fatal head wound,” he said eyeing Nadia warily, “the other from apparent
suicide. The Captain awaits.”

The unwanted interruption acted as a bucket of cold water. Sherem straightened

and answered slowly without taking his eyes from her. “Tell the Captain I am on my
way.” Sherem lifted his hand and gently put her hair behind an ear before addressing her.
“Misulu, I do not want you to witness these males. I implore that you return to our
chamber and await me. I will not be long. Then I will share all I learned with you. Will
you do this for me?”

Nadia nodded soundlessly, turned and floated down the corridor.
Sherem smiled in satisfaction. He enjoyed the faraway look he put in her eyes

and made a mental note to use honeyed requests in place of orders to get and keep her

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acquiescence. Had she forgiven his barbaric display of dominance and accepted him as
her mate? He sighed and entered the detention cell where Jorge, Specialist Jenkins and
MTE Rollins waited. “Tell me,” he ordered without preamble. “Bran, I need you in
detention,” he mind spoke. “Unseen,” he added.

“In one moment.”
“No one touched them, Your Highness—“
“Sherem,” Sherem corrected. He had twelve tittles, twelve too many as far as he

was concerned.

“Sherem,” Jenkins corrected. “One was DOA but the other just stood there,

vibrating and in general, looking wired on adrenaline. Then he looked me in the eye,
smiled, and dropped to the floor, dead.”

“Did you notice whether his eyes were dilated? Did he seem disoriented or

lucid?”

“No, Your High—Sherem, sir, I did not but they were both sweating profusely

emitting a pungent odor and the blood vessels on their faces seemed swollen, bulging.
I’ve never seen the like before. It was, uh, quite spooky all in all.”

“Your hypothesis, Rollins?” Sherem asked, turning to the MTE to hide his

bemusement at Jenkins description, but as one of his finest and most seasoned warriors,
his reaction warranted note.

The MTE shrugged. “Could be just about anything from their body’s reaction to

stress…or drugs; an autopsy is the only course if we want confirmation.”

“Do so immediately and compare it to the first supposed suicide. Twice we have

been set upon and twice the captives found death more appealing than interrogation. I
believe it is clear that both incidents were ordered by the same person or persons. I have
not known of many so diabolically ruthless that they inspire death in the face of failure.”
As Sherem spoke, Rollins went to the COM and ordered the autopsies.

“It must be someone with power, both absolute and far reaching, but who? I’ve

not heard of anyone fitting that description since we assassinated that warlord on Saxus.

“Sherem, do you think these attacks are linked to whoever is trying to kill you?”

Rollins asked.

“Not the brightest bean in the bag, if I may say so,” Bran commented wryly,

moving to Sherem’s side.

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Sherem’s face split into a grin wholly inappropriate considering the question.

Rollins flushed a deep red at his reaction. “I apologize, I was thinking of something, er,
amusing.” He cleared his throat. “I think, very possibly that the two are related, and the
one behind the theft of Angels Gate, as well.”

Jorge whistled. “I forgot about that. This situation is growing increasingly

convoluted. There is also the question of the Princess. Someone has twice now
attempted her abduction.”

Cold dread and something like fear infiltrated Sherem’s being. What in all

heavens was happening? At first Sherem believed Nadia’s kidnapping no more than a
ruse to inflame his jealousy beyond bearing causing him to kill his brother or eliminate
both of them. But again they sought to take her from him and this time made it clear the
mastermind was not Dakar. So what was the real motive—a spurned suitor, revenge
against Zorroc or himself, or a misconception that the affections of Nadia were linked to
the Assyllis agreement? Sherem’s blood ran cold remembering the conversation long ago
where too much jive, frustration, and loss of face caused him to spurt the ridiculous
allegation that he could want Nadia other than for herself. Namely some stupid flower.
Surely no one had taken his blustering seriously. Sherem shook his head to clear it but
the question crept up his spine like a deadly viper. Who were the other players sitting
with him? That evening every dignitary, leading family, military officer and eligible
female had been present from all four provinces of Ganz. Along with several off-world
groups. He could not recall his companions at the table and near by but he would
remember if he heard their names.

“We have yet to determine the identity of the cruiser and how they were able to

breach our defenses. I will begin there.”

Sherem nodded. “Very good…and Jorge, any leads on who switched the vile?”

Sherem asked, trying to clear his mind of Nadia being stolen from his side.

“Not yet, I was studying the tapes when we were attacked. I’ll go now and

continue, with your permission.”

“Good idea. Rollins, let me know as soon as the results from the autopsies are

complete. Jenkins, I want a list of wounded and killed as soon as possible. Both sides.”

“Let’s adjourn to my quarters, Bran. From there, I will summon my brother and

review all we have learned. We have to determine what in Hells flame is going on! First
they target me and now it appears they have focused on my mate.”

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“She is no yet your mate,” Bran reminded him.
“She carries my mark; the rest is mere technicality,” he answered a touch

smugly. “The ship that attacked was a star cruiser similar to the one used to abduct my
brother and mate. It should carry a maximum crew of thirty, yet I would swear that at
least one hundred males invaded our ship. What was your sense?”

“I lost count. It was not my priority at the time but I believe I took down more

than the Horta attack. Could not some have transhifted from an alternate point?”

Sherem froze in mid-step and cocked his head toward Bran. Knowing for near

certainty that they had traitors yet on board, the possibility was great. “An excellent
point. We need that body count.”

“I understand your brother is working on the exact number. I am curious,

though, about one point. The attackers were attired much like your own warriors. How
do you differentiate in the midst of battle?”

“Nefari warriors, for the most part, employ traditional weaponry but even more

telling is our fighting style. It is easily recognizable and clearly separates us from all
others. For the few that choose weapons such as blazers, they are tuned to recognize a
signal threaded in to our uniforms and not discharge unless override is activated. It helps
relax our fighters and crew to know they cannot accidentally hit a comrade. Which poses
another question. How do you know the difference? Scent?”

“Yes. The marauders all consumed the same meal before invading the Portender

but with even that aside; I know the scent of every crewmember aboard,” Bran responded
in a blasé manner.

“Can’t that be nauseating at times, especially when you have a large number of

unclean bodies?”

Bran chuckled in his mind before answering. “No more than you would at seeing

a particularly unattractive female. And sometimes the stronger the scent, the stronger my
craving to feed.”

“Ah, in that case, I have an assignment for you when we conclude the meeting

with my brother.”

As they traveled through corridors to the jet-quik that would take them to

Sherem’s quarters, Sherem marveled at the ease with which he and Bran conversed. It
seemed that they had known each other for many cycles instead of merely half of one.

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“Could you wait out here until my brother arrives? I would like a few words with

Nadia.”

Bran materialized and answered with his largest wolf-grin.
Sherem walked in to find Nadia fresh from her bath and slipping into the gown he

had presented to her. The thought of only one thin barrier between his hands and her
body left his fingers restless and itching. He wanted to make love to her right then with
gentle thoroughness; and for days on end but first he must secure their safety. And they
obviously were not safe on the boarder between galaxies. Someone knew their location
and Sherem believed it only a matter of time before a greater force arrived to engage
them. The cruiser and transhifted invaders could only have been launched by a starship
within close proximity. The final binding of the Nefar Mating Ritual would have to be
postponed until his unforeseen enemy had been dispatched. She sent a furtive glance
over her shoulder, no doubt wondering how long he had been studying her. Covering his
disquiet with a grin, he sauntered across the room until he stood no more than a hairs
breath away.

“You look stunning, misulu. The gown suits you beautifully; it makes your skin

glow like an ethereal spirit, too lovely to touch.” He glided his hands lightly over her
collarbone, shoulders and down her arms to her ribcage, his thumbs barely glazing the
underside of her breasts. She visibly shuddered.

“I see it doesn’t stop you,” she commented softly. She loved the robe and the way

it floated across her skin. Secured by fasteners that played peek-a-boo with her skin from
her neck all the way down to her navel made her feel exotic…and sensual. The thought
of who it had been fashioned for still wriggled, however. “The gown is beautiful,
Sherem, how did it come to be in your possession?”

He smiled knowingly. He knew she was jealous of the ones who had come before

her. Come being the operative word. Zazu, the barbarian was arrogant.

“I had it made for you. It is the daywear of our females. The style is comfortable

and flattering…and provides easy access for sexual encounters.”

Nadia chose to ignore the last comment and asked skeptically, “How did you

know my size, it is as if it was designed specifically for my figure.” It stunned her that
the gown did not fit so snuggly as to hold her, rather flowed gently over her skin,
caressing every inch of her like a million soft touches. How had he accomplished such a
feat?

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His mouth quirked up at one side as he raised an eyebrow, tangling his gaze with

hers; he may as well have shouted his vast expertise with the female body, gloating at the
ideal fit. She wanted to kick his shin, a desire she had never wished upon another a
being.

He lifted her chin with the touch of a finger then softly brushed his lips across

hers once, and then again and again, until she was quite dizzy. Maybe if she were more
experienced sexually, she would be able to remain unmoved, but her heart beat out of
control, her breaths were hitched and shallow, and all she wanted involved melting into
him…again. He deftly loosened a couple of ties and his hand cupped and fondled her
breast in less than a breath. His arm snaked around her waist to hold her upright while he
worked his magic on her budded nipple. Then broke the contact, leaving her bereft.

“The Nefar male dresses his LM in the way that pleases him. I had an entire

wardrobe designed for you. The symbolism is clear. Each outfit encloses you in my
protection as my body enfolds you—shielding, possessing and proclaiming to all my
ownership of you.”

“That sounds overly sexist even for a Nefari Prince. You cannot own me, I am

not a possession, Your Hiney; I am a Princess.” Nadia crossed her arms under her breasts
and studied the belligerent, unrepentant block of testosterone before her. How did this
keep happening to her? One minute floating in sensual heaven, wrapped in his voice and
touches, and the next trussed up in a spider’s web of dominance getting ready for her last
meal—or rather his last meal. She would ring his neck if her hands could span the steel
corded column. “And what is an ‘ellem’?”

“The acronym for lifemate and tradition dictates that I purchase you from your

guardian, in this case your brother. After we locate him, he and I will negotiate a suitable
separation gift and the final step of the mating ritual will be complete and you—” He
decided not to mention the ceremony required to make the bonding complete. “—will
then belong to me,” he finished with great satisfaction.

Nadia contemplated the attempts on his life wondering whether anyone had

considered the female angle. Surely, half of that population must want him dead for his
unrepentant chauvinistic views on females and their place in the universe.

“You have forgotten one thing in your zeal to buy me, oh mighty warrior.”
Sherem eyed her warily. Strategically, it might have been wise to keep that part

of the ritual from her, as well. All, until a few moments ago, had been falling neatly into

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place. He had ruined her beyond repair, she had accepted him as her lover, bore his
mating tattoo and had allowed him to clothe her. All of her bridges leading away from
him had been incinerated; she just hadn’t yet realized it. Still, he could afford to be
magnanimous—and circumspect. Especially considering the view she afforded him with
her now gaping gown partially exposing an aroused areola. There existed a very old
saying. It is not over until it is over. He decided to disarm her with his nearness.

“And what is that, the light to my night? I will correct it immediately,” he rasped

softly into her ear.

Nadia seemed to sway into him before she caught herself. “My brother can’t sell

what he doesn’t own, and, he won’t give me to you to mate if I do not agree. It is my
permission you need to garner; my brother will go along with my decision. If you have
learned anything in the last three cycles, surely it is that,” she challenged.

“That was then, misulu—before you boarded my ship, shared my mat, wore my

mark, and donned my possessions. I am an honorable male and take my obligations
seriously. I have taken you and accepted you as mine. Your brother understands honor
and will not keep you from me. It is over, little one. You are well and truly mine.”

Nadia stared, disbelief warring with inevitability. Her skin leached of color.

“You trapped me. You had this whole thing planned from the beginning and have no
scruples whatsoever. Deny it!”

“Why? I have none and less than none where you are concerned. But as to

having planned our current situation; I would never expose you to danger, Nia mine.
That you must believe.

“Something evil surrounds us, for though I cannot see from which direction it

approaches, I can feel it with every fiber of my being. And when it reveals itself I will
not be merciful. What is mine I hold be it my crew, my ship, or you, sweet one—
especially you.”

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Chapter Fourteen

“Where is Nadia? I thought she wanted to be included in our meeting. She

seemed most insistent when I ran into her earlier,” Dakar queried.

“She is resting,” Sherem answered gruffly. He should not have pushed her so

hard sexually then turned around and stated her position so baldly. When she insisted on
going back to her former quarters he refused, telling her they now housed Bran. When
she told him she’d stay with Tula, he informed her that Dakar and she were now sharing a
mat and would not enjoy company. With livid determination she demanded her own
clothing returned, only to learn they had been destroyed. Her parting salvo included an
ear-spitting shriek and a punch to his gut, which had all the impact of a fly hitting
titanium.

She finally retreated to their sleeping chamber locking the panel behind her. He

could override her command, of course, but decided she deserved the small victory.
Dakar eyed him suspiciously. He hoped Nadia did not make her misery clear or Dakar
might take the place of Zorroc and act as her protector. He and his brother had just
reconciled and Sherem wanted nothing to come between them, and while Nadia had the
punch power of a gnat, Dakar’s was formidable; add righteous indignation on Nadia’s
behalf, and he might just beat the flesh off Sherem’s nose.

“Well, maybe we should wake her.”
“In trouble with your female, once again?” Bran offered blandly. The comment

marinated in humor.

“Stifle it, mangy beast,” Sherem growled.
“It was only a suggestion, brother. I wasn’t planning on storming her

escarpments,” Dakar forced, barely holding to his temper.

“Not you, Dakar, I was talking to Bran.”
“Funny, I didn’t hear him utter a sound. Are you holding out on us, Bran? Are

you suddenly fluent in universal Ganz?”

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Bran gave him his best beast smile and nodded his head.
Dakar looked suspiciously from Bran to Sherem.
“He, uh, understands a great deal of what is said, I think. He is very intelligent, a

species as intelligent as our own, possibly,” Sherem blurted.

“Obviously more intelligent, if your relations with your mate are anything to go

by,” Bran offered.

“Not another comment or we’ll blow our cover, I swear,” Sherem mind-spoke

threateningly. One thing neither wanted.

“Ah,” Dakar stood as Nadia entered the room.
“Hello, Dakar. Hi Bran, sorry, I guess I fell asleep.”
Sherem watched Nadia move into the room taking a seat next to Dakar flanking

herself between his brother and Bran who sat on the floor. The L-shaped lounger sat
seven comfortably and she had chosen the farthest seat from him. She idly ran her
fingers into Bran’s fur, but instead of protesting, he sat perfectly still, allowing her
ministrations. Nadia looked pale and unnaturally still, and her puffy eyes, though dry
were lifeless and remained focused on the faux fire in the alcove across from her.
Sherem cringed inside. His old feelings of inferiority surfaced and he all but growled at
the three sitting cattycorner from him.

Sherem cleared his throat. “Dakar, do you have the numbers of attackers?”
“I estimate one hundred and twenty-eight, about one hundred too many for a star

cruiser to hold for any great distance,” he pointed out unnecessarily.

“Which means that not far is a starship waiting. Do you believe the first attack

acted as a probe to test our defenses or are they simply toying with us?” Sherem mulled
through invasion and attack strategies and none of the scenarios he employed fit their
current situation.

“Why waste valuable forces for scare tactics? It’s wasteful and puts us on our

guard. If they were sent to deplete our warriors in preparation for the main attack, they
miscalculated because we lost ten with thirty injured while they forfeited over a
hundred—and still counting. The clean-up crews are not yet finished.” Though blazer
technology had advanced to allow for body disintegration, Nefari warriors fought with
daggers and swords when in close quarters. Numbers of downed and deceased allowed
them to accurately define enemy defenses, plot future strategies, and evaluate their own
warrior effectiveness. Most evaded blazer technology entirely, in favor of the traditional

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Nefari broad swords that reflected blazer rays and stabbed to kill or disable. Their
training and fluid grace enabled them to dodge any beam or projectile and return it with
deadly accuracy.

“Could they be unaware you are Nefari and testing your battle-readiness?” Nadia

asked.

“No, all in the galaxy know the Portender and what that entails,” Dakar answered.
“Speaking of the Portender, where is the captain, shouldn’t he be here?” Nadia

carefully avoided Sherem’s gaze and queried Dakar.

“The only ones I trust with your life are in this room, misulu,” Sherem answered

for Dakar in an effort to make her face him. Unsuccessfully. “Until we determine ally
from enemy; that is how it will remain. Jorge has captained the Portender for six years
and trained with me at our academy before that, but you are too precious to lose by
misjudgment. I will not endanger you when it is not essential.” Sherem noticed color
suffuse her cheeks; he’d embarrassed her by his blunt talk. His gaze bore into hers
willing her to understand the feelings he could not put into words.

“The most bizarre aspect of the battle is that the enemy seemed to kill more of

their own soldiers than ours. They had no friendly fire guards on their weapons and
seemed more anxious to fire at anything that moved, rather than determine the antagonist.
Almost as if they were caught in a blood lust.”

Bran broke into Sherem’s thoughts. “I was in the lab when autopsies for the

prisoners and combatants were analyzed. The prisoners died of a powerful hallucinogen
with trace amounts of Assyllis and every combatant tested was high on it. Most likely a
derivative of Angels Gate. The possibility we discussed earlier linking Jasper and Angels
Gate to the attempts on your life, the framing of Dakar, and the kidnappings are growing
stronger by the moment.”

“Yes, you are right but there are still missing pieces to our puzzle.” Sherem

nodded to Bran. He looked up to see Nadia focusing her attention on him and Bran and
realized that if she hadn’t already discerned the telepathic bond between them, it would
not be long.

“Your pardon?” Dakar asked, warily focusing first on Nadia and then Bran. “Did

I miss something, perhaps?”

Sherem shot a furtive look at Nadia before addressing Dakar. “Sorry, I was

thinking of the results from the enemy autopsies I received just before you arrived,” he

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improvised. “It seems traitor and intruder alike had one common bond; they all had high
quantities of a drug in their system, possibly Angels Gate in combination with another. It
would explain much, their feelings of invincibility and inhibitions in killing all in their
path. Even the taking of their own lives.” Sherem took a deep breath. “Dakar,” he
ventured tentatively, “Bran and I believe that all the incidents including the attack today
have a direct correlation to Angels Gate and the percentage of Assyllis it contains—and
just possibly the attempts on my life, framing you.”

Dakar coughed. “You and Bran? What does he do, nod, slobber, or scratch

behind his ear depending on the hypothesis?”

“No,” Nadia interjected, “they are telepathically linked.” She directed an

accusing glare at Bran. “Yours is the voice I’ve been hearing in my head, is it not,
Bran?”

Bran hung his head. “I apologize for misleading you, one who belongs to

Sherem, the fewer who understand my powers, the safer for all concerned.”

“Is this a joke? You can talk to the animals, now? Have you completely lost your

mind? I know it was hard on both of us when we were estranged but I didn’t start
communing with the clouds, talking to the tulips, or convening with canines.”

“It is true, Dakar. Bran just mind-spoke to me and I have been picking up idle,”

she cleared her throat, “thoughts from him. I just didn’t know where they were coming
from—until now.

“Why did you not tell me, Sherem?” Accusation blending with hurt in her

darkened swirling eyes as she finally met his gaze. “I would have kept your
confidence.”

“I am sorry, misulu, the fewer people aware of Bran’s powers, the stronger

advantage we have for finding our traitors and pinpointing the ones behind it all.”

“What about me? I am your brother. You still do not trust me, do you?” Dakar

accused. He stood almost toppling the oblong table in front of them. His eyes were
suspiciously moist as he raced from the room; Sherem directly on his heals.

Nadia sat back and crossed her arms under her breasts. “You are the one who has

been planting those comments into my mind.”

Bran responded with a beastly grin.
“Would you care for Eden-wine? I find I am thirsty.”
“A bowl would be appreciated, thank you.”

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“My pleasure. Well, since you can converse, why don’t you tell me all about

yourself?”

Bran shrugged, jumped up on the side vacated by Sherem, and took up the length

of it. “There is not much to tell. Obviously, my friend and I are not very adept at
deception and to be frank, telepathically communicating with those I normally eat is a
strange and rather unsettling phenomenon.” He licked his lips staring hungrily at Nadia.

She laughed. “I am not intimidated by your act, Bran. Save it for the male

crewmembers; they seem more susceptible than we females.”

“Why is that?” he wanted to know.
“I don’t know. For me, I know that Sherem would never let you near me if there

were the slightest chance you might harm me. It is a rather freeing experience and one of
the only pleasant side-affects of being bound, temporarily, to your friend.”

Bran actually chuckled and the sound made Nadia laugh.
“So, what other powers do you possess and how can you communicate so

articulately in our language?”

“Initially, I correlated Sherem’s feelings to the sounds he used to express them. It

gave me a rudimentary knowledge of your language; I then studied video-docs to pick up
the nuances. Sherem does not have the broadest of vocabularies.”

Nadia giggled. “He is a warrior not a diplomat, Bran. He does have an effective

way of getting his point across, however. He merely backs his opponent into a corner
and traps them into compliance.” Nadia’s smile fell from her face.

“You make him crazy.”
This cheered her. “It is the least I can do. Can you do other things besides

communicate, reason intelligently, and disappear?”

“It is unclear. I am just a pup, as I grow I may develop others. Sometimes it

seems I am about to change shape but it has not yet occurred,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Nadia spit out the wine she had just sipped. “A pup? Did you say you were just a

pup?”

Bran bared his teeth and yelped. “Yes, I will not reach full growth for another

three seasons.”

Nadia whistled. “That’s almost a full cycle. H-How big will you get?”
“I am not sure but I believe we will find out together.”

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The panel opened to reveal both brothers bantering away. Nadia was glad they

straightened out their differences, however Dakar watched Bran with a tinge of wariness
and jealously.

“I have given the order for ‘High Alert’. We agreed that whoever attacked, will

most likely come at us again before we discover who he or they are. It has grown late
and is time to rest. Bran, we will lock ourselves in for the night. Nadia’s quarters are
available and I hope quite adequate for your needs. Sleep well, for I can feel a storm
brewing. If something happens, I will wake you.”

Sherem turned to Dakar and clapped a hand on his back. “I know where you

sleep tonight, brother. You have my blessing on the union.” Dakar smiled sheepishly at
Nadia, punched his brother in the arm, and exited behind Bran. They were alone and
Nadia wished he would release her as easily as he had the others. She sank back down on
her seat and grabbed her wine, emptying the contents.

“It has been a long and grueling day, Nadia. Come retire to our mat.”
Though she could barely hold her eyes open, there was no chance she would

meekly follow. He had taken too much from her and she was raw from the experience.
She would sleep in the living area. When she heard him fall asleep, she would take a
pillow and cover from the mat and curl up on one of lounge sections. Though not very
wide, when exhaustion took her, she would no longer care.

“I agree the day as been particularly grueling, that is the reason I am too wired to

sleep. You go ahead and I will follow after I have another Eden-wine.” She heard him
sigh. He knew she intended to delay the inevitable.

He approached her, feathered his fingers through her hair, and kissed her tenderly

on the temple. “Do not leave our chambers, misulu, do you promise?” he coaxed.

“I know it is dangerous, Sherem, I am not a reckless child. I will stay right here, I

promise.”

He silently left her.
She would keep her promise and not move from her spot on the narrow, though

plush lounge.

SHEREM

117

Chapter Fifteen

She lay in a pool of fire. Burning up as a million flames licked and kissed every

inch of her inside and out. Her skin was tight over her frame, her breasts and lower
abdomen heavy and aching. She needed relief, begged for it, surcease guiding her every
thought and movement—and then her soul burst from her body floating up and up until
with one last flicker burst into all the stars of the galaxy.

Nadia exploded awake with an orgasm so strong she trembled like the onslaught

of a volcano, the sound of her own scream echoing in her ears. Her eyes shot wide,
finding fathomless black orbs staring back with amusement-laced satisfaction.

“Wh—What happened?”
“I brought you to orgasm in your sleep. You are very responsive to my touch,

misulu.” Sherem’s voice grated over her nerve endings and passion soaked skin. He lay
half on top her, their bodies intertwined.

As she became more aware, she realized she lay positioned in the middle of his

over-sized mat. “How did I get here?” she asked, the demand slightly slurred from sleep
and fulfillment. A hot steel poker caressed her thigh and she realized they were both
naked.

“I carried you last night and you slept cuddled to me as if made for it. A few

hours ago, I went to the bridge and gave the order for galaxy jump. We are in Earth’s
galaxy.” He hesitated for a moment as if unsure how to proceed and Nadia felt the blood
in her veins turn to ice.

“Rocky,” she croaked.
“Is fine, misulu. I have personally spoken with him. The Miramid is making its

way toward us and we rendezvous in approximately four days in our own galaxy. COM
silence will be maintained until then.”

Nadia pushed until their positions were reversed. “Why didn’t you wake me?

What has kept them so long, are they safe?” Nadia shook him, watching for the truth in

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his eyes. What she saw, past his relaxed good humor, was barely banked passion mixed
with a smug self-satisfied gleam that Nadia did not trust. She couldn’t remember when
she had seen him looking more content and carefree. Actually the words carefree and
content used in the same sentence with Sherem created an oxymoron of the first order.
“What did you talk about?”

“I have brought food. While we eat, I will tell you everything. I laid out a wrap

for you unless you would prefer to dine in the buff. It can be a most erotic experience.”

Nadia turned the color of the strawberry robe within easy reach and made a grab

for it, covering herself as she dashed for the clean room.

Rich baritone laughter followed in her wake. Had she ever heard him laugh?
Nadia entered the front room where an array of her favorite foods were laid out.

Sherem was too magnanimous, too pleased and Nadia grew distinctly uncomfortable.
What had he told her brother? She wanted to find out so when she contacted him she
could devise her own story and arguments against Sherem’s high-handedness. If she
were to be honest with herself, she loved the brute to distraction but that was precisely
the problem because he looked upon her as some sort of prize to be coveted. She
believed that spending more time with each other might do the trick but even while he
cleaved her to him, he also pushed her away. There were certain barriers she could not
cross and certain compartments she could not breakout of. It seemed ‘cross purposes’
defined their entire relationship. And he had so much more experience than she did with
the male female thing that most of the time she felt totally out of her depth. How did you
make someone love you? How did you lower your own barriers to someone on the other
side with shredders?

She wanted to be loved for herself, not her title, Gattonia’s natural resources, or

even her looks. None of them defined her.

“Are you just going to stand there looking lost or come hear about your brother

and his boisterous family?”

What was going through her beautiful, complex brain? Was she telepathically

communicating with her brother where she stood? He had taken certain liberties in
describing his and Nadia’s circumstances. He had told Zorroc that they had lifemated
and all that remained was his blessing and the negotiation of a bride price. Zorroc had
been comically stymied by the later and slightly offended that as her brother he
considered Nadia not prize enough on her own merit that Sherem had to pay extra for her.

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119

Sherem had had to reassure him the “price” merely represented an old Nefari tradition
and could be paid symbolically in allegiance between their two provinces. He had only
one hurdle left to traverse. The ritual words must come from her own mouth and free
will or the bond could be later questioned. Even worse, she probably knew it; being a
well read, scholarly little Gattonian.

The Miramid and the Portender would lock in four days. He must have her

compliance and complete the tattoo. And affix the final mark on her heart as well as her
shoulder.

“Well, now who’s looking lost, I would like to hear the news of my brother.”
“They are fine, did I not already say? It seems they sent a team out for

reconnaissance and they disappeared. Since discovery of the Miramid would have
confirmed the reality of another humanoid species, they had to be extra careful on how
they searched for the missing crew. They did not find him…”

“Him?” Nadia asked.
“Yes, er, no, I mean them. A team of six vanished and with them a good friend of

mine.”

“Rosik,” Nadia whispered, putting her hand to her throat.
“What do you know of Rosik,” he asked suspiciously. Had his friend been

making inroads to her affection?

“He spends a great deal of time at our House. My nephews are a particular

favorite of his. Everyone believes him to be a lethal female magnet, but inside he’s more
a big teddy bear.

“I don’t believe anything terrible has happened to him. He is too…” She smiled

wickedly, “good with his weapons.”

“What is that supposed to mean, what do you know of his weapons?” Sherem

stood up placing both hands squarely on the table, facing her accusingly.

Nadia’s eyes twinkled like the rarest of diamonds, obviously enjoying his chagrin.

“Well, stealth is a weapon. Charm is a weapon. His blazer works lethally on the enemy,
where the all important one between his legs vanquishes the females.”

Sherem raced around the table, picked her up out of the chair, and pinned her

against the nearest wall—amidst rainbows of giggles cascading around him. He had
never seen her quite so carefree and discovered he enjoyed making her laugh. “The only
weapon between your legs will be mine. Now, how well do you know Rosik?”

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“He is a very good friend of Cat’s and visits most everyday when not on

assignment.” Her merriment subsided. “Do you think he is alright? Cat and the boys
will be heart broken.”

“You are right about Rosik; we have been in many battles together and dangerous

assignments. He will land on his feet; there can be no other outcome. Now, would you
like to accompany me to the bridge and observe a galaxy jump?”

“Why not just wait for my brother here?” she asked, while reaching out to Zorroc

with her mind. Immediately she felt his warm presence.

“I have missed you, Dizzy Nia. I am sorry to have worried you but you should not

have come. You might have been injured.”

“I am not a child, Rocky, and I had to do something. I felt your distress and knew

something had gone wrong. And I was right. How are you, Cat, and my nephews?”

“Cat and my sons are the terrors of the universe. In other words, all is normal.

Did Sherem tell you about Rosik?”

“Yes, and he said five others were missing as well.”
“We located them just minutes ago and transhifted them to the ship. There is no

word on Rosic. It is as if he disappeared. Cat is very upset and ready to tear the galaxy
apart, of course, but more about that when we meet in a few days. I hear congratulations
are in order; we have much to discuss after our rendezvous. Until then, I love you. Cat
will be ecstatic when I tell her we spoke.”

Nadia debated whether to bring up the subject of Sherem’s machinations but

decided to wait until she could sit down and discuss it person. That way she would be
more successful in swaying to him to her side. Until then she would not comment one
way or the other. “Tell everyone I love them and will see them soon. You too, Rocky. I
am beyond relieved to feel you in my mind, again. It has been too long.” She felt a wave
of warmth and he was gone.

“Did you hear me, misulu?”
“Pardon? Oh, um, could you explain that again? My mind was elsewhere.”
Sherem regarded her suspiciously. “Day dreaming, my pet?”
“Spooka is a pet; I am your…” She stopped short, clearly perplexed. She had

almost admitted what she most longed to avoid. “Your passenger.”

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Sherem barked out a laugh, his eyes fairly twinkling with delight. Nadia stared,

spellbound. He looked…beautiful. Breathtaking. And all together too scrumptious to
resist.

Sherem, noting the hunger in her eyes, wanted nothing more than to scoop her up

and take her to his mat—then keep her there for the rest of the journey. He cursed his
responsibilities and whoever threatened them. He aligned their bodies, chest to hips and
crushed his mouth down over hers. And reveled in her enthusiastic response.

“Come to the bridge with me,” Sherem entreated softly, still pressing her to him,

his face buried in her hair. “You can see and talk to Zorroc in four short days. I have
already assured you he is safe. Come witness a different form of dance than the one we
perform locked together. It may be the only space jig you are liable to see. Come with
me, misulu. Let me show you my world.”

She decided not to mention her communication with Zorroc and instead asked,

“Space jig?”

“Mmm,” he answered, inhaling the exotic scent of her hair and nuzzling the

tender spot just below her ear, “a slang term that best describes it, and a most
unforgettable coaster ride.”

“Yes, I will come.”
He only groaned in response.
Sherem took great care in strapping her into the chair next to his, and took every

opportunity to brush his fingers across her neck and collarbone to reposition her hair, and
along her breasts, belly, and hips to ensure a tight and comfortable fit. The dazed look of
trust on Nadia’s face made him feel as if he could defeat an entire army. He bent low and
gently grazed her lips and for a moment the world around them galaxy jumped to another
dimension leaving just the two of them. The sly whistle behind him disoriented him and
he turned around to silence the intruder with a look.

Galaxy jump left Nadia stunned speechless, even an hour after completion. Her

mind’s eye would always recall, with vivid detail, the spirit rocking experience. The
countless stars and planets bursting into a kaleidoscope of swirls too exotic to describe.
Rather like observing a powerful orgasm as it pierced soul and body—similar to the one
she had experienced just that morning. She cast a furtive glance at Sherem, mesmerized
by the unholy gleam deep in his eyes; vast as deep space itself.

* * *

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”Have you found them?” the angry voice sounded over COM relay.
“Not as yet, they were there one moment and—”
“What was the staged exercise for if not to plant a tracking device strong enough

to follow them into galaxy jump. I told you what to expect; you said it would be done.”

The Kerrdic Prince Ryder ran his fingers through his spiked, red-feathered hair.

How had this assignment ended up transferred to him? If Kindarak were the genius he
proclaimed himself, he would have found a way to tag the Portender through one of his
own spies on the ship. Security scan, or not. Now here Ryder was, short of crew, in the
middle of deep space, with the majority of his males passing through one sickness after
another. Some dying in gut wrenching agony, which Ryder had begun to attribute to the
drug Kindarak had promised would enhance their battle skills enough to overcome the
legendary prowess of the Nefari warriors. Had it blocked their telekinetic capabilities, he
wondered, and prevented the raiding party from planting the bugs deep into their
ventilation system so as not to be detected? Ryder sighed, he would never know, because
the gas-filled tooth the soldiers of raiding party wore contained not a truth blocker, as
purported, but a lethal dose of poison. After the fact, he refused to allow enhancements
of any kind to be administered to his remaining crew. How had events culminated to his
present circumstance? It had begun so innocently. A small loan to cover a lost wager
that morphed into gambling, whoring, and finally betrayal of those he most revered. He
had been led like a sheep to slaughter, believing he had control of his situation…and
Kindarak. He felt tainted, used, in danger of his sanity and most importantly—trapped.
For what were his options? Kindarak housed his ship and discreetly sent a guard to
watch it. He and his remaining crew were under surveillance as well. And where could
he go with not even enough fuel to make Jasper. Throw himself and his crew on the
mercy of the Portender, who had vanished without a trace, and beg Sherem to bail him
out once again? The acid in his stomach churned.

Of one thing he was certain, if he was a naïve idiot, at least Kindarak was no

genius. His planning so far had turned out every bit as flawed as Ryder’s own. The
thought rallied him somehow. Kindarak was the idiot for going after the Nefari
Barbarian.

Ryder faced Kindarak with barely disguised distain. “Don’t forget my prime

objective, my lord.” Making reference to Princess Nadia’s successful kidnapping.
“Apparently, the drug you ordered administered either blocked the telekinetic powers of

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my warriors or impaired their reasoning. We will never know which, since there are no
survivors. A very comprehensive way to block the truth, I might add.” The reference to
the tyrant’s lack of judgment was one he would have been too intimidated to attempt the
week before, but blaming himself for so many of his subjects’ deaths made feel him sick
inside and dirty. The kind of dirt that would cling to him for eternity.

Kindarak chose to ignore the insult, temporarily, he had further plans for the

puppet prince. “The Portender will make its way back any time. Stay and monitor the
skies until you locate them.”

“Many of my crew are sick, if we do not start back soon, we will die. My father

would be very displeased were that to occur.”

“Don’t be more of the sniveling fool than you are. My ship will take you back

when we depart—at the conclusion of our business. All you need concern yourself with
at this moment is to locate the Portender. I will do the rest.”

“Why can’t you simply galaxy jump to the Milky Way?”
“I explained already that if my ship is traced to the jump sector, I could fall under

suspicion. Sherem is not a complete idiot—like others I could name.” The log from his
ship could be accessed to reveal travel co-ordinates for the last cycle. Kindarak would
not trip himself up so easily. He must appear above reproach. The Baraden family were
such trusting fools…all but the youngest, of course.

* * *

“I believe I have spotted our thief,” Bran mind-spoke to Sherem who was

engaged in yet another attempt to seduce his mate into the formal branding ceremony.
Yet she continued to hold herself back from him. Why? The sexual bond between them
was stronger than any he had felt, he vowed his name, devotion and wealth to her; what
more did she require? If she would but say, he would buy it for her. If she wanted travel
and adventure, which she seemed to crave, he would lay it at her feet. Yet she insisted
that what she needed most, he could not deliver. What else was there beside sexual
compatibility, wealth, devotion, and alliance? It was the formula that bound his parents
together and they seemed content. And it should further relieve her that his father had
chosen only one mate.

He shook himself out of his reverie. “Where are you?”
“In my quarters with the original tapes.”
“I’ll be right down.”

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“What is it?” Nadia asked. “Did Bran discover something?”
“How did you know I was communicating with Bran?”
Nadia shrugged. “I can just tell.” She rose from their game of backgammon and

crossed the room for another piece of dark chocolate. “May I accompany you?”

“Yes, after you don body armor under your clothing.”
“Aren’t you growing a tad obsessive where security is concerned? We are not

likely to be caught unawares again.”

“I will not discuss issues of safety, either put on the armor or remain here with a

guard outside.”

“Certain bodyguards in Gattonia can form a mind-meld and create a force field

around individual people or themselves. You should ask Bran if he could do that.”
Nadia was confident that Sherem could keep her safe but what of himself. He seemed to
consider himself indestructible despite the close calls he survived.

“Can you?”
“I don’t know, maybe with proper training. It is a rare skill and highly prized.”
“I can understand why. Go,” he ordered, shooing her toward the sleeping room.

“We don’t have all day.”

Nadia raised her eyes to the ceiling and sauntered from the room. Sherem’s gaze

never left the gentle sway of her hips.

“Who is it,” Sherem asked, without preamble. Bran had been working on the

original tapes for the last week. His vision was more than ten times as accurate as
humans, from what Sherem guessed. Both figured the film had been doctored to cover
up the guilty party, so Bran was slowly going through each slide.

Sherem seated Nadia before taking his place beside her. “Watch this,” Bran

invited, punctuated with a bark.

Bran’s computer worked by eye command since he couldn’t speak. Frame by

frame he led them through the suspected thief’s movements. Sherem was not surprised to
find one of the stationed guards responsible, though they were purported to be the most
trusted of his crew. His shoulders tensed and his back went ramrod straight even as he
shook his head in weary resignation. Nadia caught the movement and covered his fist
wadded tightly on his thigh.

“Isn’t that—“

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“Yes, misulu, it is Brian, Jorge’s second in command.” He looked over at Bran.

“Do you think Jorge could be involved, as well?”

“I believe only time will tell us,” he messaged into both minds.
“If my second in command is corrupt, how many others wish me ill?”
“Will you order his arrest now?”
Sherem cocked his head in contemplation. “Perhaps not; his actions should be

observed first to discover all others involved in this treachery.

“Don’t,” Nadia admonished. “Don’t believe your entire crew is against you. For

one it is not logical, for another, if it were so we would already be dead—with Bran or
without him.”

“My apologies,” she mind-spoke to Bran. Mind-speaking with the ankou was

becoming more natural the more she practiced, though she channeled her thoughts into a
never before charted canal. If asked, even she was unclear as to how she managed it,
which gave her a glimmer of Sherem’s mental discipline and capabilities. He was far
more powerful than the quintessential warrior he appeared.

Bran shrugged his acceptance just as a buzz sounded on Bran’s COM unit. “I

turned it off before you arrived, in case someone wanted to monitor our conversation,”
Bran explained. “And besides, it serves little purpose; like handing a microphone to one
who is mute.”

Sherem moved to the COM unit and flipped it on before demanding, “Speak.”
“Incoming from Nefar, your Highness.”
“Who is it?” Sherem wanted to know.
“He identified himself as Minister Gannett.”
“Route him here.” After a moments pause Gannett’s voice came across harried

and just a little panicked.

“Remy, are you there?”
“What happened to “exalted Prince”? I believe that was the last title you

bequeathed to me.”

“Zazu, Sherem, where in the hells name have you been and why are your

communications and co-ordinates cloaked?” Came the frustrated question from his
friend.

“You used the name of our deity and the one domain he will not tread in the same

sentence. You must be shaken-up.”

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“Do not joke. What is happening?” Gannett demanded.
“The short version is that we were attacked before galaxy jump and since

returning to Zinn, decided to keep our whereabouts unknown.”

“Attacked! What fool would attack a starship crammed full of the worst

massacring whores in the universe?”

“Obviously one who is unfamiliar with our stellar reputation,” Sherem replied

wryly.

“Oh, uh, sorry. I—“
“I know what you meant, my friend. And the answer to your question is that we

don’t know. The assailants keep killing themselves before we can question them. Have
you heard of a lord powerful enough to command such fear?” Sherem listened to a small
gasp and a silence held a beat too long. Gannett knew of one.

“No. No one comes to mind,” Gannett replied too quietly. “Your Uncle has been

trying to reach you, though. I assume he has some news on the drug you are interested
in. If you will send me your co-ordinates I will pass them along or you can COM him
yourself.”

“I have his COM address, just give me his co-ordinates.”
“He is in sector G815, Prince Sherem,” Gannett answered formally.
Sherem didn’t bother to correct him. His friend knew more than he was telling

and the thought made his stomach lurch in disappointment and frustration. He would
rather face a hoard of enemies with only a sword than this seemingly endless web of
deceit and betrayal. Sherem hoped his uncle could shed some light into the treacherous
tunnel he had wandered.

Nadia noted Sherem’s lack of color and set expression as he stood with his back

to the COM. He looked as hard as metal but fragile at the same time, as if a well
directioned wind could send him crashing to the ground. She had heard the conversation
and didn’t catch anything amiss but Sherem obviously had. Nadia walked over and put
her hand on his chest gazing deeply into his eyes.

“What is it, Sher?” she asked.
Sherem looked down at her with a knowing glint and mischievous smirk. “Did

you just use an endearment, misulu?”

“Huh?”
“You called me Cher as in Cheri.”

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“I called you “Sher” as in short for Sherem,” she huffed placing one hand on her

hip while the other remained firmly trapped on his chest by his callused hand.

“I prefer the endearment,” he murmured, thrusting his other hand into her silken

amber strands. They coated his fingers like liquid rays of sunlight as he tilted her head
back, holding her in place for his bruising, soul-searing kiss. Her knees liquefied and she
sank into his hard heat. The world fell away. The only reality remaining was this—him.
Her relentless obsession.

Nadia vaguely registered a disgusted groan before, “Take it to your own

chambers, if you please. I am too young to appreciate it.”

Both she and Sherem sprang apart, having received the message simultaneously.

Sherem grabbed her hand, mumbled an awkward apology to Bran, and dragged her out of
his chambers down the hall to the jetquik that would take them to their quarters.

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Chapter Sixteen

“What was I thinking?” Sherem asked the ceiling of the lift, but not relinquishing

her hand. “I can’t even remember the sector, can you?”

Nadia shook her head. “I guess I wasn’t paying close enough attention.”
“G815,” Bran messaged.
“Thanks, now get out of my head,” Sherem ordered.
“Our heads, plural, Bran,” Nadia added. Sherem sprang through the panel as it

opened leading Nadia through to their sleeping chamber, forcing her down on their mat
and landing right on top of her pinning her hands over her head.

“I cannot think when you are around. The only thing I want to do is take you

again and again, fiercely until I know you are mine.”

Nadia gazed back, her heavy lidded eyes dilated, her cheeks flushed and her lips

swollen wondering what she had done to awaken such passion and desperation. She, who
was renowned for her passionless nature.

“Say the words. Make your pledge to me. No more illusions, no more

prevarication. Tell me you want me, give me your commitment and devotion…and your
body.” Sherem’s body shook as he waited for her vow but Nadia froze in confusion.
This was to be it? No words of love, no soft touches or cajoling smiles, just his will over
hers? He must have anticipated her next words for he cut off her response with a full
assault on her senses.

“Before we leave this chamber, you will give me what I require,” he whispered

seductively and went to work removing her robe and body armor. In moments she lay
naked to his hungry gaze. She felt exposed; both overly warm and chilled consecutively.
“Spread your legs, Nia mine.” His voice had turned to gravel, his chest rose and fell as if
he had run a league. Nadia did as he ordered.

“Wider, I would see and explore the petals guarding your entrance.”

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Nadia knew her cheeks flushed to raspberry red. She was as exposed as a female

could get while Sherem remained fully clothed. In all honesty the erotically charged
situation electrified her. She felt a drop of her juices push through her labia and slowly
work its way down the center of her cheeks. Sherem spotted the dewy drop and followed
its progress; a wicked flicker raced across his expression before he knelt between her legs
and slowly lowered his head to lap the dewy trickle. He groaned lifting his head to make
eye contact, and then licked his lips. A feral edge entered his gaze before he fell on her,
gorging on her juices, licking, nipping, and circling her clitoris with his textured tongue.
Nadia screamed in writhing abandon. When he lifted her buttocks off the mat and held
her thighs even further apart for his feast, an orgasm tore through her. But instead of
letting her ride the wave of her release he redoubled his attack until one orgasm piled
onto another until she dripped with sweat and every part of her shook in reaction. She
found herself begging but for what she wasn’t sure.

“Tell me, misulu. Pledge yourself.”
“Please, I need you inside me. Please fill me; I need your body over mine.”

Nadia reached for him and groaned in frustration when he stood and slowly peeled out of
his uniform. He seemed even larger than before, every muscle bulging. Especially the
one between his legs. A rampant male ready to devour his prey and at that moment
Nadia wanted him more than her next breath.

Sherem studied the sated glistening vision in front of him. He had waited for her

forever and now he had her begging for his body and his cock. There would be only
pleasure for them both from now on. Her virginity was long past and he had brought her
to orgasm more than five times ensuring her passage was coated and primed for his
entrance. He would make her say the words that would seal her fate. All would be
settled before her brother or anyone else could interfere. His manhood throbbed painfully
in response but he would hold off until he had everything he wanted from her. He slid
onto the mat and covered her slight frame with his. Zazu, she was soft and fit him
perfectly. Her desperate whimpers made him want to alleviate her distress but he would
have his way first.

“Bend your knees and open for me. I intend to give you the ride of your life.”

She eagerly complied and he slid home. She groaned with the pleasure of being filled.
He began to slowly stroke her passage bringing her closer and closer to mindless
pleasure.

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“Faster, harder, Sherem. You are torturing me with your restraint.”
“I promise you will get what you want, but first I need something from you.”
“Of course, anything, take anything you want,” Nadia wailed, damp strands

clinging to her forehead and shoulders. Sherem increased his pace bringing her to the
edge of infinity but withholding the final nudge. Her eyes and face looked fevered, wild.
In old Nefari Sherem whispered J to record. He would take no chance should their
mating be questioned. She was his. He then murmured the joining words in her ear and
told her to repeat them. Breathlessly she repeated the foreign litany and something
within him shattered, bursting free and he began to purr. The low droning spread through
him until his whole body began its own unique waves of oscillating electrical charges all
Nefari males possessed that resonated to every corner of Nadia’s being until they vibrated
as one. She gathered and exploded into ecstasy. Sherem roared his own release and then
sunk his teeth into the juncture of Nadia’s neck and shoulder completing the mating
mark. When the metallic taste of blood registered on his pallet, he thoroughly laved the
area to accelerate healing. He lifted his head and turned Nadia’s head to face him. She
had fainted with the force of her release.

Sherem smiled his satisfaction…she had repeated the ancient words of

compliance, consenting to the lifemating.

He studied her features. Her lush lashes, that had captured several silken strands

of amber, fanned above moist rosy cheeks while her bee-stung lips were slightly parted in
silent invitation. One he could not deny. He bent over and kissed her gently on those lips
before moving on to her lashes, the tip of her nose, and finally the mating tattoo that
irrevocably bound them.

His mouth continued down her chest, tasting every honeyed inch of her. “You led

me on a merry chase, little witch, but I finally bagged you.”

“That is a very strange way to say ‘I love you’, Sherem,” Nadia groggily

commented and then moaned as he nipped at the underside of her breast.

Sherem shrugged. “There is no such thing as love; however there are addictions

and you are mine. One I will feed until the end of our days. I own you, misulu. You
whispered the words granting me the right.”

He suckled first one breast, and then the other but instead of Nadia journeying

into another sensual vortex, she felt as if a ship full of ice water had been dumped on her
head.

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“I whispered no such words and I thought I made it clear I am no male’s thing to

be owned or even worse—an addiction. I am the Princess of Gattonia whether we mate
or not. And at the rate you are going it will never happen. Now let me up.” An unholy
light burst through his gaze, pinning her as effectively as a cornered monzu. Nadia had
never before feared this Nefari barbarian but a trickle of dread now slithered down her
spine tripping every instinct of self-preservation she possessed.

“Are you saying that I lied and forced the words of joining onto your tongue?” he

asked too softly.

Nadia licked her suddenly parched lips and thought through her response

carefully, lest she provoke him further. “I am saying no such thing. What I am saying is
that I do not recall reciting any mating words unless it was that nonsense phrase you had
me repeat while I was too passion-laden to know what I was saying.” When Sherem
gave her no response, she continued quietly trying to reason with him. “It was all a
mistake. You see I thought, um, was under the false impression that you cared for me.
That you love me. And that is what I require in a lifemate—actually, the only thing I
require. So this error will have to be remedied which will be easy enough to accomplish.
When we return to Ganz, I will have the tattoo surgically removed along with the wrist
band, unless you would be so kind as to give me the key and save me the trouble.” Nadia
held out her wrist striving to look as earnest as possible and maintained eye contact
though she desperately wanted to shut out the mounting fury she found roiling across his
features.

“Nefari warriors, in war as in mating, value only what can be won and measured.

Our sword arm used for the protection of a mate, the shelter we furnish to keep you warm
and dry, and the clothing we provide proclaiming possession and rank. These things are
not nebulous, abstract sentiments but solid proof of our regard. And as for that nonsense
phrase; it signified a sacred life-bonding vow we took that cannot be broken or remedied.
So I am afraid that you are stuck with my wristband, my tattoo and my person. You are
mine and I keep what is mine and no one, no one, will take you from me.”

When Sherem finished his threat he punctuated it with a brutal kiss. Then

suddenly as if the tiger within had been loosed, his hands were everywhere on her body
and were harsh and punishing instead of sensual and persuading. His face was a mask
showing no emotion as he roughly parted her legs and pushed one and then two fingers
into her. Nadia squirmed, pleading with him to stop but her teary words only inflamed

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him further. He entered her in one strong stroke then drilled into her hard and fast,
overwhelming her in her inexperience. Holding her hands above her head with one hand,
he tipped her pelvis up with the other for deeper penetration. As one emotion tore
through her, another rocked her with angry force until she was unsure if it was torment or
ecstasy.

“You are mine, mine, mine,” he swore, each declaration punctuated with a thrust,

“and I will prove it again and again with pleasure until you yield.” A burning flame
began low in Nadia’s belly and it spread, growing hotter and more intense until she was
engulfed. Wave after wave of release pounded her, caught in an undertow of unbridled
pleasure and heartache.

Sherem lay panting after his release, his face in the supple curve of Nadia’s neck.

How dare he make her feel this way? A jumbled coagulation of confusion, vulnerability,
stupidity, lust…and love. She wanted to strangle him. Did Zorroc act like a thickheaded
brute when first confronted with Cat? What tortured idiosy. When Nadia shoved Sherem
aside, he let her go with no comment. He lay on his back with an arm slung across his
eyes looking even more miserable than she. Somehow, that made her feel better. Big
bad beast overcomes maiden half his size—big victory!

Nadia fled to the clean room deciding to visit Tula and Dakar, and leave Sherem

to his brooding.

* * *

Kindarak cursed his COM unit once more. Why hadn’t he heard from the

Portender? It had been hours since Gannett delivered his message to Sherem, though he
had withheld his ships co-ordinates. Might he be suspicious of Gannett or him—or both?
He pounded his fist on the console, he must get those co-ordinates, or his plans could be
jeopardized.

“Sir,” the voice sounded through the COM unit.
“What is it?”
“Incoming message from the Portender, Sir,” the COM informed.
Kindarak grinned in anticipation. “Let the games begin.” He laughed and danced

and twirled over to his COM unit.

* * *

“Have you spoken with our uncle?” Dakar asked as he entered the bridge.
“Yes, we meet in space two days from now,” Sherem replied.

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“So, a day before the Miramid.” Dakar slunk down next to his brother and noted

the deep black void of space visible through the wide window spanning half the station.

“Yes. I thought you would still be in your quarters with Tula. You seem fairly

glued to one another,” Sherem ventured.

Dakar colored and smiled uneasily looking sideways at his brother. “Nadia came

by and I decided to leave them to their chatter, besides there is something I would speak
with you about.” Dakar cleared his throat and took a sip of the choc-tea he had brought
with him.

“I believe she is or should I say was a virgin. Is what you were about to ask?”
Dakar spit out his tea in response. “I know th…Zazu, Remy, give me warning

when you are about to spout outrageously.” He paused for a moment before asking.
“She was with you for over two cycles, how did you…why did…?”

“She is a princess, given to me as a pleasurer, not a concubine. It seemed

somehow disrespectful to lie with her and besides; my thoughts were…elsewhere.”

Dakar cleared his throat once again.
“Have you a throat ailment?” Sherem asked humorously, receiving a sock to his

arm for his brotherly concern.

“No, but this is difficult for me as you must know and you are not making it

easier.”

Dakar ran his hand through his hair in much the same manner as Sherem, a family

trait, no doubt. The thought made Sherem grin. It was good to be with his brother again
unencumbered with doubts.

“I think I am in love with her and…and wanted to know how you would feel if I

took her to mate,” he spurted out in a rush.

“Take her to mate with my blessing. She is a good match, but spare me talk of

love. More like you are crazed with lust, there is no such thing as the other,” Sherem
pronounced, broodingly.

Dakar burst out laughing and stood over his brother. “I am sure that attitude has

enamored Nadia to her knees. You have been lost in love with that female since you
glimpsed her, brother. The sooner you acknowledge it the smoother your road to
completing the lifemating ritual.”

“It is done,” Sherem replied with a smirk.

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Dakar sank back down. “She said not a word to me or Tula, and her clothing,

come to think of it, covered her to her chin. Why would she hide her mating tattoo?”

Sherem wanted to curse his brother for his astuteness. What to say about his

disastrous mating and the way he had coerced his mate. Sherem cleared his throat.
“Probably just needs time to adjust,” he finally grumbled.

Dakar clapped him on the back with a laugh and left him.

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Chapter Seventeen

The following two days spawned an uneasy truce between Sherem and Nadia.

She was quiet, dignified, and controlled. The ice princess was very much in evidence
when she spent time alone with him. It was driving him insane. He welcomed the
diversion his uncle provided when he asked permission to link with the Portender.

Kindarak was struck dumb at the sight of Nadia. He had never before met her but

tales of her reached his ears. It was said that she was colorless, and incased in ice, her
reserve chilling and remote. The radiant, vibrant creature before him, however, belied
description. She glowed with inner fire like the rarest Myverion gold. She had high,
sculpted cheekbones below large, slanted eyes of molten amber. Her carriage showed
grace and charm while her silken mane proclaimed her sensual allure with every gesture.
His plans for her realigned themselves. Her charms would be wasted on Ryder. She
would, however, make a splendid addition to his collection. His reward for a victory well
fought—but not as his mate. That place belonged to the mother of his son. He stepped
out of the transport tunnel connecting the two ships and approached Nadia, not taking his
eyes from her and ignoring, for the moment, all others in the greeting party.

“May I present my lifemate, Nadia, Princess of Gattonia and now Princess of

Nefar.” Sherem turned to Nadia. “Nadia, my Uncle Kindarak.” Even as Sherem
extended the proper introduction he moved forward to partially cover her from
Kindarak’s sight. His warrior instincts were shouting so loudly they momentarily
disoriented him.

Undaunted, Kindarak bumped Sherem aside and instead of a formal greeting,

engulfed her in a tight embrace, then kissed her lingeringly on the cheek, inhaling her
unique female essence. “Soon,” he murmured quietly.

Nadia stepped back abruptly with a question in her eyes, Sherem moved to stand

close beside her, putting his arm around her waist possessively. His eyes shone like the
Macronadin native to Nefar, a warning clear within their depths.

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Kindarak merely smiled and turned to Dakar wondering at the camaraderie the

two brothers once again shared—when he had gone to such lengths to separate them.

“Dakar, I must admit surprise,” he murmured. “I was told you and your brother

had something of a falling out. Such a pity. Oh well, everyone knows how unreliable
rumors can be.” He dismissed him and faced Sherem. “My boy, I believe we have much
to discuss, but later, perhaps after dinner. It would be my pleasure to have you as my
guests this evening, say eighteen hundred hours?”

“I have some free time now if you’d like to come to the counsel room.”
“Alas, it has been a harrowing journey; space pirates running around everywhere

breeding battles around every corner. I fear I must rest. I am not as young as I used to
be. Until later…” It was not posed as a question.

“Of course, Kindarak.”
Kindarak stiffened slightly. “You have always called me Uncle, Sherem. Has

something changed?”

“As you stated yourself a moment ago, I too am not as young as I once was,”

Sherem replied enigmatically.

Kindarak simply bowed and took his leave.
“Your uncle is a very strange soul,” Nadia commented, still unnerved by the

touch of him. “Where is he from, he has an unusual accent and way of expressing
himself.”

A bemused expression flitted across Sherem’s face. “I can’t recall his homeland

or if I ever knew. Do you know, Dakar?” The three headed down the hall toward the jet-
quik. Sherem held firmly to Nadia’s hand. Kindarak’s reaction to his mate made him
unsettled and wary. Seeing him through the eyes of a child was blatantly different than
through the eyes of a warrior. His senses were on high alert and the hair on the back of
his neck stood on end. A warning that had saved him countless times.

“I don’t know, either. Did he seem changed to you, a little off-kilter? I can’t

explain it…”

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean. When did we see him last?”
“I would say about ten cycles, though I believe our parents see him quite often

during their travels. And he stays in touch with Rand.”

“Hmm, it is past time we communicate with our father. A good excuse to find out

a little more about our “Uncle”,” Sherem said as they took the jet-quik to the main deck.

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“Nadia, go directly to our quarters and wait for me. I shall join you shortly—and tell J to
set the perimeter for high security.”

Nadia looked questioningly before guessing, “You are spooked.”
“Warriors do not spook, we trust our instincts. It is what keeps us alive,” Sherem

stated.

“In other words, he’s spooked,” commented Dakar dryly.
Sherem kissed Nadia gently on the mouth and nudged her toward their private jet-

quik, then he and Dakar proceeded down the hall and around the corner. Sherem glanced
behind them to make sure of their privacy and then murmured, “I am spooked.”

“I did not trust the way he keyed on Nadia; as if he’d just run up on a mountain of

Macronadin.”

“I noticed. Bran, what did you think?”
Dakar jumped and looked around. Bran appeared just beside him. “How do you

do that, you huge glob of fur?”

“I do not think your brother likes me, Sherem. Can I eat him, yet?” he asked

wryly.

“Enough, we have larger game to hunt.”
“What did he say? It was concerning me, wasn’t it?” Dakar looked accusingly at

Bran while addressing Sherem.

“He asked if he could eat you. Satisfied?” The stricken look that stamped his

brother’s face gave Sherem just the measure of levity he needed.

“There was something wrong with his scent, but not unfamiliar to me. He has

ingested Angels Gate or a similar derivative.”

Sherem locked in place and turned to his friend. “You are positive? You can

scent it on his skin?”

“What are you talking about now, I showered just before joining the welcoming

our uncle,” Dakar stated righteously.

Sherem’s eyes rolled back in his head and spoke to his brother through clenched

teeth. “Dakar, be serious. Bran just informed me that our ‘uncle’ has Angels Gate or
another similar drug in his system. That may explain the weird aura surrounding him and
his unstable behavior.”

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Dakar looked at Bran, stunned and impressed. “I’m reevaluating my opinion of

you as we speak, fur blog. That clarifies a lot.” Dakar looked furtively around. “Uh,
Remy…”

“Not here. I was going to suggest we meet in your quarters but I have changed

my mind. We will backtrack to mine; there is something you must see, and we have
much to discuss and plan. Bran, cloak, please. No sense in startling the crew.” It was
the signal to Bran to drop behind and cover their backs. And to ensure no interested ears
endeavored to follow.

Sherem continued to converse quietly with both his brother and Bran, though

Bran would not follow until all was secure. Dakar didn’t know the difference and so,
every time Dakar asked Bran a question, Sherem would obediently translate, as usual.
Sherem hid a grin, wondering when his life had taken on the elements of a comedic farce.

Dakar was stunned speechless, a downright rare occurrence when the Gattonian

mural taking up one long wall in Sherem’s chambers opened to reveal a fully loaded
POD. “Father insisted it was a matter of national security that I have a way off the ship
after a particularly risky mission. He would let me continue to warrior no other way. I
complied.”

“Why wasn’t I told?” Dakar wanted to know.
Sherem shrugged. “You were off at Knowledge World with Rand when the

modifications were installed. Come, I’ll show you the inside. It’s equipped with a
separate and more sophisticated COM unit than the ships and we can successfully send
and receive cloaked COMs with no worries of tracing or interception. He is the best!”

Sherem looked five cycles younger as he boasted about his POD. Dakar had

never seen his brother so enthusiastic. Dakar’s lips quirked precariously as he asked,
“Why do you call your POD a ‘he’, I thought all ships were ‘shes’?”

“J, this is my brother, Dakar. Please say ‘hello’.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Dakar, brother of Sherem. Welcome aboard. Would

you like a demonstration of my features?”

“Not today, J,” Sherem interjected. “We need to send a confidential COM,”

Sherem.

“Of course,” he replied. “COM ready, special features employed.”

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After a few minutes, Dakar heard his father’s voice in greeting. “Hello, my sons,

it is good to hear and view you. Your mother is here, as well. Mia.” He turned from the
screen. “Come sit on my lap so we can share the conversation.”

“Oh, Royce, what will the children think?” Came the off screen reply but in the

next second their mother seated herself gingerly on the king’s lap. Her color was high
and her eyes sparkling. Dakar yearned for a match as good as his parents.

Sherem cleared his throat but before his first words Dakar blurted. “Sherem has

finally landed Nadia. I witnessed her mark myself; Nefar has a new Princess.” Dakar
read the retribution in Sherem’s eyes as clearly as if he had spoken and he smirked. It
would be some time until he forgave Sherem for his suspicions; until then he was
exacting revenge in his own inimitable fashion. The queen looked as if she had
swallowed a plum whole. The silence was deafening and Dakar wondered at the
thickness of it. Surely, they approved. Sherem had made his intentions known cycles
ago.

“Congratulations, son. Your mother and I are very pleased for you, aren’t we,

Mia.”

“Of course, darling, whatever pleases you. Uh…”
Dakar stared at his mother. Queens did not say ‘uh’ and Sherem had not said a

word, but sat there like the implacable cliffs of Nefar.

“What kind of mating did you forge, Sherem?” she asked pointedly with a

silencing look at Dakar. She needn’t have worried, Dakar suddenly felt as though he
were officiating a game without knowledge of the rules to because he had obviously
missed something vital.

“A life bonding, mother, the ancient words were spoken,” Sherem answered

woodenly.

“I thought we had agreed against that course. You are next in line; an heir must

be assured before the binding words are spoken. Did you have her tested?” Mia asked on
a hopeful note.

Reality speared Dakar to his core. He hadn’t thought. The smart virus unleashed

on Gattonia may very well have affected Nadia. She was almost certainly sterile. All
thoughts of revenge, no matter how harmless, purged from his being and he moved
toward his brother in a show of solidarity. “Those mandates are—“

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“Quiet, Dakar,” Sherem ordered turning to him with a humorous glint. “I can

speak for myself…but thank you,” he added quietly and then faced the COM. “Since I
likely will be assassinated before an heir can be procured, the point is moot,” Sherem
leveled in deadly earnest. His mother almost swooned while his father studied his sons.
Dakar couldn’t tell what he saw there but whatever it was, Royce bade Mia from the
room and leaned toward the screen.

“What has transpired?” The parental inquiries of mating and fertility were

dropped. The face of a warrior stared back.

* * *

“Hmm,” Nadia said staring at the clothes cove, pondering the appropriate gown

for dinner that evening. Maybe I can bow out, she thought. Pretend she had a headache
or a stomach malady. She shook her head—then Sherem would fly into a fit and call for
an EMT to check her over; getting everyone in an uproar. Bad idea. “Hmm,” she voiced
again.

“May I suggest the formal lavender gown? It is a similar color to the one you

prefer, but the material is heavier, textured, and more fitted. You will look as soft as a
tornika but as regal as a queen,” the disembodied voice stated.

Nadia whipped her head around looking for the source of the advice and then

stilled suspiciously. “J?”

“Yes, Princess,” the voice answered. “And I think your hair down with no

jewelry. Your hair is adornment enough.”

“Is there a surveillance monitor in the clothes cove?”
“Oh, no, Princess. I don’t need monitors.”
“Then how can you see, I thought you were physically installed in the POD and

acted as secondary perimeter alarm. Surely there are remote sensors located
strategically.”

“Goodness, no. When requested I merely create an impenetrable force field

around the entire chambers. That way not only panels are protected, but walls, floors and
ceilings, as well.”

He sounded entirely pleased with himself, Nadia mused. “If you are such a

marvel of force, then how did those pirates get in?”

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“I am unable to activate without instruction and I believe you requested that the

panel be breached. Next time specifically call on me if you wish to be secure. Of course,
my force field is always activated when my crypt is shut.”

“Your crypt?” Beginning to wonder whether she wanted to know.
“The POD room where I am enclosed, Princess.”
“Please quit calling me Princess. Nadia is fine.” No wonder Sherem had made

such a point of ordering her into the POD. She sighed. “Well, how can you see me and
what I am looking at?”

“When my outside perimeter is activated I can scan as well as visualize. That is

why I must insist on the lav—“

“But you are not on outer perimeter activate status. Why are we having this

conversation?” Nadia demanded, frustrated that nothing was making sense and her new
style guru was a sightless computer.

“I am on outer activate status, Nadia,” J answered calmly, “whenever Sherem

utilizes my onboard COM unit.”

“I see,” she murmured, wondering if they had reached their parents. “As to the

lavender gown, it is beautiful but I do not wish to look fluffy and harmless, I am striving
for more of a hands-off, don’t-mess-with-me-or-I’ll-rip-your-arm-from-your-socket-
look.” Dead silence. “J? Did you hear me?”

“Yes.” Came the disembodied voice.
“Well, any suggestions?” she asked impatiently.
“Are you unhappy with your mate?”
“Of course, I’m not unhappy with Sherem. At least not in that way. Umm, his

uncle is a real live flesh eating octopus, though, and I don’t want him putting his hands
on me.”

“An octopus? I am checking my databanks. Is that possible?”
Nadia giggled. She loved conversing with computers especially the interactive AI

types. “Not a real octopus, a male with questionable morals and allegiances who preys
on females for sexual encounters, encouraged or not.” Nadia waited.

“In that case I would suggest the black textured velvet with silver earrings,

necklace and hair adornments,” he stated.

Nadia brought it out and laid it on the mat. The material was thick, the sleeves

long, and the bodice moderately cut. Add silver jewelry and she would be dressed in the

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colors of Nefar. She smiled. “J, you are a genius!” If Sherem wore the jacket she
purchased for him in Jasper, they would match too closely to miss. Perfect. If that did
not deter Kindarak’s wandering touch, there was something deeply wrong with him.
Which she worried was the case. She donned her body armor under the dress as a
paranoid precaution. Well, Sherem did tell her to wear it whenever they left their
quarters.

The panel whooshed open and Sherem strode in looking distracted…until he

noticed her and then stopped dead in his tracks. A startled, confused expression pooled
in his eyes. He crooked his head to the side and studied her carefully from her silver
slippers slowly up to meet her tentative tiger-eyes. He raised an eyebrow quizzically, a
flash of humor lit his eyes, then a knowing smirk lifted the corners of his mouth.

“Planning to keep all lecherous uncles at bay tonight?”
She returned his smile. “Is it that obvious?” she asked hopefully.
He barked a laugh. “Only to those who know you.” He approached and circled

his hands around her waist, and felt the body armor. “Do you really think that is
necessary?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry, I know that he’s you uncle, but—“
“Shh, I would have insisted on it anyway. The news from my father was not

encouraging but it can wait.” He nuzzled the base of her neck then planted kisses up to
her ear, across her jaw to her waiting lips. “You look a vision, my own, thank you for
donning the colors of Nefar. We will be a matched pair tonight, a united front, yes?”

Nadia came close to blurting her hearts secrets when his lips closed over hers in a

thoroughly possessive taking. She was beginning to believe that Sherem did, indeed,
love her even if he did not verbalize the sentiment. His actions would suffice for now.
The message reflected in his eyes was as clear as any statement of devotion.

Dakar and Tula met Sherem, Nadia, and a wraith-like Bran at the entrance of the

link. Tula looked every bit the Princess she was and Dakar followed her every move like
a besotted puppy. Nadia could not have been more pleased. She had no doubt the two
would lifemate before long and her friend would become her sister-in-law—if she chose
to remain mated to Sherem. He had pursued her for three cycles then claimed her in a
most elemental way yet swore his feelings did not extend to love. How could she make
him reassess his feelings for her? Even as she posed the question, she knew the answer.
She couldn’t. She would have to rely time and patience. Nadia’s musings came to an

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abrupt halt when they entered Kindarak’s ship, the Stealth. It was lavish and opulent to
an almost ridiculous degree. Ostentatious was too bland a word to describe it. Iridescent
murals covered every wall and ceiling while thick patterned carpets covered the floors.
Silks, satins and several materials not familiar, were dyed with garish abandon giving no
thought to taste or appeal, draped every surface of table and seat. He led them into a
huge auditorium that Nadia believed, at first, to be a dinner theatre. Rows of long tables
and chairs faced the stage where a half moon intricately carved table, set with black
macronadin plates and goblets, nestled five chairs behind it. Nadia realized with a
sickening thud, as he led them up the stairs to the dais, that this was where they were to
dine. Kindarak made a great show of placing Nadia to the left of the center chair and
Tula to the right of it, with Sherem and Dakar on the ends while Kindarak sat in the
middle. The chairs were made of dark ornate wood and thickly upholstered and the chair
Kindarak sat in looked more like a throne. He even wore a cape that brushed the floor as
he walked. He looked like some feudal lord above a sea of worshipping minions. Nadia
wanted to laugh one moment and vomit the next. If he sought to impress he missed his
mark, he looked more clown than king. And he seemed never to take his eyes from her.
As the evening crawled slowly forward Nadia grew increasingly uncomfortable. He
leaned closer and closer, quietly informing her of the contents and preparations of each
dish seeking to create an intimate bond, ignoring the others. He complimented her on her
clothing and actually touched her hair with the premise of examining the intricate silver
roping woven into the thick braid down her back. Sherem noticed her extreme
discomfort and kept hold of her hand under the table between all seven courses and
gently squeezed her thigh while they ate. She was grateful for the connection.

Though charming and attentive to a fault, it took all of Kindarak’s considerable

control to leash his growing possessive fury. The object of his desire treated him with
glacial politeness and aloof disregard. He tried every trick to make her relax and open to
him but the more he pressed the more stubborn she became. He had a mare very similar
to her before he taught her manners by repeated lashings. The image of Nadia tied and
naked on his mat, disciplined into submission by his whip, made a tent on his lap he did
not even try to conceal. Let her observe the eventual reward for her reticence. He was
sweating with conjured images but it didn’t matter; his little charade grew to an end. He
smiled magnanimously at all he surveyed. Seating Nadia at his left was a signal to his
crew that she would be his next vict…mistress. He could almost taste the roaring river of

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passion hidden beneath her frigid façade. His eyes gleamed in satisfaction when a small
ruckus erupted at the entrance of the hall.

A junior crewmember from the Portender rushed to their table, Sherem and Dakar

stood and moved to intercept him.

“It’s Jorge, sir, he was attacked. We took him to Med Station One. He is asking

for you.

“Dakar, see our females back to the ship. I go with Denny.” Sherem grabbed his

arm and whispered, “Be ready for anything. Bran will stay with you as backup. Dakar
didn’t search for the ankou; for once he appeared grateful for his unobtrusive presence.

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Chapter Eighteen

Sherem raced through the link with Bran on his heels, ordering several of his most

trusted warriors to guard the entrance and wait for the others then seal the entrance.

“You were right in your suppositions, by the way,” Bran calmly pointed out,

loping along beside Sherem.

“What are you saying?” Sherem charged down the corridor to the jetquik and he

and Bran piled in.

“All of the survivors from our last attack were in that room staring up at you.

Your instincts were correct.”

“Yes, but did we learn the truth too late?” Sherem arrived on the bridge barking

orders to prepare for link-drop and get underway while his senses screamed of peril; he
knew Kindarak would launch first strike. He stopped at a wall COM and ordered their
shields raised. It would tip off his suspicions but at this point, it was a matter of
semantics; the snake of impending doom was slithering up his spine.

“Sherem, the shields have been tampered with, they will not rise.”
Sherem swore before answering, “Check all systems. Now! Report to me at Med

Station One.” He ran full out to the med facility and did not stop until he was beside his
captain. “Jorge, I am here. Report.” Meant as an order, it was spoken with great
concern.

“S-Sherem, it was Brian. I caught him tampering with the ship’s electrical

systems, he tried to k-kill me but I was suited, as ordered.” Jorge forced a smile that
came out as a grimace. “H-he was my friend. Trusted—don’t understand.”

“I don’t think he is himself, Jorge. The tapes we reviewed showed Brian as our

thief. We have reason to believe that he is an Angels Gate addict and controlled by his
source, the real villain.”

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“Before I passed out he told me he was doing me a favor for we were about to be

blown into oblivion and that the end he gave me was infinitely more pleasant than the one
planned for you.” Jorge grabbed his arm and tried to sit. “You must be careful—“

“I know of the danger, Jorge, and who is behind it all—finally. Rest, all will be

well.” Sherem turned to the EMT and a silent message passed between them. He
followed Sherem to the outer chamber.

“What is his condition?” he asked grimly.
“As he told you, he was suited. It saved his life. Brian shot directly at his heart

and bruised the muscle of the large aorta and will need time to heal. The med-tech unit
has reduced the inflammation but the heart cannot be stressed for the next forty-eight
hours.”

Sherem nodded. “Fine, put him out and secure this and the other two Med

Stations. Prepare for battle. Long life.” Sherem moved into the jet-quik and got off at
the bridge just as a huge explosion rocked the Portender.

Smoke and fire leapt from the counsel as warning sirens filled the bridge.

“Engineering,” Sherem shouted over the din. “Do we have nuclear capability?”

“Yes, sir,” came the faint reply.
“Fine, get it ready. The Stealth has had her chance, now we will teach her not to

mess with the Portender. Take no prisoners, Sami, launch all three and destroy her.”

“Sherem!” Tula’s voice came over the COM.
“Female, I am busy.”
“Nadia is gone, Remy. Taken, somehow.”
The wind whooshed from Sherem’s lungs; his entire being tripped off its axis.

Gone. She couldn’t be gone. “What? What are you saying?” he rasped. “Wasn’t she
with you and Dakar when you returned to the ship?”

”Yes, but then she vanished right before our eyes. I swear to you, Sherem, I

would die to keep her safe but she just disappeared.”

“Hold the order, Sami,” Sherem screamed and ran his hands through his hair as

the terrifying truth hit him. Kindarak had used the dinner to plant a tracking device on
Nadia then transhifted her aboard the Stealth just before firing. That is why he hadn’t
dealt the Portender a harder blow; he wanted Sherem to realize Nadia was no longer
aboard. Kindarak wanted to toy with him; to demonstrate his superior intellect by letting
him to know that he had snatched Nadia right out from under him…he further knew that

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Sherem would not endanger her by firing on the Stealth. His options were few and tasted
like sewage.

“Sami,” he spoke calmly into the COM.
“Standing by, sir.”
“Are both shields and cloaking functions fully operational?”
“Yes, sir, shields came online just now. Brian didn’t have time to complete his

tinkering, the damage was minor.”

“Good. Prepare one torpedo for launch and be ready to cloak and galaxy jump on

my order. Load refuge canisters with debris and deploy in tandem with the torpedo—and
Sami?

“Sir?”
“Millisec timing is essential if we are to make it through alive. Is that

understood?”

“It is now, sir.”
“What do you intend? You can’t fire on the Stealth and disappear; Nadia is on

that ship. You put that damn tracking device on her wrist; have you located her? Is she
somewhere on the Portender? Damn it, talk to me,” Dakar demanded as he rushed to
Sherem’s side. He had entered the bridge just as Sherem had given the order.

“Easy Dakar, I would sooner take my own life than pluck a hair from her head.”

Sherem ran his hands through his mane, once again, in frustrated agony. What he was
planning could cost all of his shipmates their lives as opposed to the one of his mate.
Faced with a terrible quandary and a horrible choice, it had to rest with her. Nadia was
his to protect and if he had to die trying then let the fates rule. He turned to his brother.
“We are going to play dead and then obligingly explode when next he attacks by firing
our own nuclear bullet to meet his and expunge enough debris, hopefully, to convince
him of his victory. I would so hate to disappoint our dear Uncle.” His mind raced
through all the possible scenarios striving to maximize their chances for success. If they
could fool Kindarak into thinking he had won they could then follow, cloaked, and wait
for a chance to overtake them, possibly with assistance from the Miramid. If they were
unable to snatch Nadia soon, surely his honorary uncle would light somewhere with his
prize. It seemed strange and highly suspect that not even his parents knew of Kindarak’s
roots or home planet. They had taken much on faith after he had saved their father’s life.
Hopefully the children would not have to pay for a parent’s naiveté. But first things first.

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Dakar smiled grimly. “You are planning to galaxy jump.”
Sherem nodded, his gaze fastened on the Stealth’s firing panel visible on the

outside bottom of the ship. Sweat beaded and ran down his forehead but he dared not
blink and miss their opportunity. There it was; a slight ping of light and wisp of smoke
emanating from the Stealth’s launchers. Kindarak was through gloating.

“Now, Sami!” Sherem shouted, pounded the button on the console, then grabbed

his brother and hit the floor. An explosion rocked the Portender before it hit hyperspace
but no alarms sounded; no sound to divulge their ploy.

“Sami, damage report,” Sherem requested quietly, somewhat surprised at his

steady demeanor.

“The explosion hit us on the port side but the damage does not appear crippling. I

will notify you when we have more information,” Sami responded.

“Fine,” Sherem answered, and then COM’d down to the Med-unit.
“This is Sherem, what is Jorge’s condition?”
“He is stable, not to worry. Oh, and we are fine, as well.”
“My apologies.” He could hear chuckling in the background. Sherem couldn’t

help but grin. They had made it.

* * *

Kindarak sat in his chambers awashed in the splendor of victory and laughed

aloud. He had done it, killed two brothers with one strike. The way lay paved for him to
complete his goal. He would have all he desired, all he deserved that had been stolen
from him—and an unexpected juicy fruit to taste at his leisure. He stood and began the
ceremonial dance of victory practiced by his people. He found himself utterly peeved at
being disturbed. “What do you want? Didn’t I give orders for privacy?”

“You did, sir, but—“
“You will in future address me as “Your Excellency”, you dolt, and if I have to

remind you a second time, it will mean your life. Is that clear?”

“Uh, yes, Your Excellency. I am sorry to intrude but we need a cross bearing,

Your Er-Excellency.”

Kindarak liked the sound of his new title, it was more in line with his future

station. It sort of just rolled off the tongue—“Your Excellency”—yes it would do for the
time being but as to their next destination…

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Should he proceed to Nefar with the tragic news of the Portender’s destruction

with all on board? He would say that he had raced to their aide only to be too late…such
a shame. Rand, of course would be sent for immediately and Kindarak would remain to
comfort them all in their time of need. In addition, it would allow him the time he needed
to determine how best to eliminate his trusted friend, King Nefar.

Hmmm, that strategy could take weeks…No, he would collect Rand himself as an

errand to the grieving parents. After he had Rand on the Stealth, they could COM the
King and Queen together. After all, he must solidify his relationship with Rand, since he
would soon be his new father. In learning the news of his two elder son’s deaths, the
King would fall slowly into decline until his assisted death…while Kindarak would be
there to support the grieving widow and old love. The love and only love of his life. The
Queen, he was quite sure, would go along with his plans. Rand was his natural son, after
all. They would welcome a strong male to support him and act as a trusted advisor. Yes,
Kindarak thought, the power behind the throne. And about time. He should have
acceded to the throne on his home planet of Myveria but his comrade snitched making
him persona non gratis. Such a fuss about a little house cleaning, his father was decrepit
and barely lucid. It had been past time for him to take his rightful place but unfortunately
there were two additional witnesses making it three against his word. He laughed out
loud. Wimpmiesters, the lot of them. They didn’t even have the guts to kill him. As the
royal son they merely banished him to a non-life of piracy…until now. And he couldn’t
wait, he had learned much in forty cycles. His plan was foolproof.

And then he paused. He would need time with Rand to forge a stronger bond

until turning to his Uncle would seem natural…and time with his new mistress. Perhaps
he could make her a number two mate. Nefar custom allowed such or just deposit her in
his already existing harem. His female slaves remained sequestered and cut off from the
rest of the universe. Yes, perhaps he would simply let Nadia die along with the Portender.

He grinned at the sheer brilliance of his scheme. No one, as yet, knew of the

Portender’s demise let alone that he held the Prince of Kerr and his crew as his “guests”.
It allowed him ample time in which to decide the final fate of his many vict…er visitors.

“Your Excellency? May we have a heading?” the disembodied voice quivered.
This time Kindarak smiled graciously. “Yes, Smead, we go to the Knowledge

Planet with all speed. Oh, and Smead; keep a look-out for any ship making galaxy
jump.” Kindarak just hated loose ends like the Miramid and purported tales of telepathy

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inherent in Gattonians. He found it very difficult to believe and yet he had witnessed
Ryder’s telekinetic powers. He supposed anything was possible.

* * *

“Do you have a line on them, Drake?” Sherem asked. Brian had been Jorge’s first

navigation officer. Drake, his second, now took over that function. Drake had been
nervous and tense, stammering his innocence and outrage at Brian’s acts for a full two
minutes before Sherem put a halt to it. His current movements over the console were
stilted but precise; he knew his job and might even surpass Brian in knowledge. As his
first navigation officer grew more comfortable, he began to chatter.

“I have him on the screen, Sir, he is leaving a trail a rookie could follow.” He

turned to Sherem, a large grin splitting his face. “He bought it, Sir; he thinks he
destroyed the Portender. It was a most brilliant exercise in stealth, if you don’t mind the
pun. What do we do next?”

Sherem grinned back. “We effect repairs until all is fully operational and follow

at a discreet distance.” It was highly unlikely that Kindarak would have let down his
guard unless completely sure of his success. So for the moment they were safe and held
the advantage. He would never get another chance at the Portender or Nadia, once he got
her back.

Drake’s console began to blink and he turned to receive a transmission. “Sir, it is

the Miramid.”

“I’ll take it in my chambers,” Sherem stated grimly and stalked from the bridge.
“I am here, Zorroc, speak.”
“What in hells booty are you about? You almost galaxy jumped on top of us; it

took all our efforts to avoid colliding. And where is my sister, she does not answer my
greeting.”

“Well, if you insist on flitting about the universe cloaked, you should expect the

occasional close call,” Sherem replied laconically. When the jump was made to the
Milky Way, he did not specifically have his mind on the Miramid and her location but
hoped to materialize as close to her as possible to avoid detection from the Stealth in case
they didn’t quite trust the destruction of the Portender and executed a jump of their own.
But Zorroc didn’t have to know that yet.

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“Well, what were you doing cloaked in the process of a jump? That was a risky

proposition, mercenary. One that never should have been attempted with my sister
aboard.”

“If my mate was aboard, I would not have had to resort to it. We need to link and

plan a strategy for her safe return,” he responded, resigned to the tongue-lashing he knew
would come.

“What have you done to Nadia? Damn you barbarian, if there is a hair on her

head damaged, your life as my sister’s mate will be a short one. We’ll trans you over for
your explanation,” Zorroc growled.

“I have my reasons for linking, brother, just prepare for link and I’ll explain

afterward,” Sherem reiterated. He smiled as he heard Zorroc mumble about the “brother”
comment. The console began blinking signaling another COM, this one from the Med
Center.

“End transmission.” Sherem terminated the COM to intercept the next. “Speak.”
“It’s Rollins, Sir. About the autopsies...”
Sherem waited a moment before demanding, “Spit it out Rollins, my time is

short.”

“They were jazzed on a drug I’ve never seen before that does contain Assyllis, but

there was something else…”

“Report, Rollins, I’m not a prompter.”
“Er, yes sir, of course not sir…”
“Now,” Sherem roared.
“They were bugged in the same place,” Rollins blurted. “Underneath the skin on

the back of the neck.”

“Is it a homing device?” he asked quickly.
“I believe so, sir. Should I bring it to you?”
“Is it live?”
“It’s blinking.”
“Then stomp on it, you idiot, and then disintegrate it. And I mean now. Is it

dead?” Sherem heard a crash followed by a laser.

“Yes sir, it’s gone now.”
Sherem cut the connection and turned to Bran. “Go to the Med Center and make

absolutely sure the homing chips are destroyed.”

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“More those likely those bugs held more intelligence than your MTE,” Bran

commented, padding into the jetquik.

Sherem was escorted to Zorroc’s private chambers within the hour. He started to

sweat again, this was even worse than plotting a life or death invasion. Maybe being
blown to bits a few hours ago would have been less painful than what he was about to
endure. He took a deep breath as the panel opened to reveal Zorroc, his mate Catarina,
and three tiny rollicking children bouncing off every surface of the room. Shrill shouts,
accusations, and baby laughter filled every crevice of the room. Sherem stood
motionless; afraid he’d step on one of the miniature pocket rockets.

Cat observed the giant warrior known as the Warrior Prince and hid a grin. The

expression on Sherem’s face was hysterical. He took one step into the chamber which
tripped the closing of the panel and froze. He glanced back, trapped and panic-stricken,
clearly searching for a way to escape. Cat knew exactly how he felt. They were a
handful. Okay, several handfuls—on a good day. They seemed to notice their guest
together and froze in mid mischief. Trina made a beeline for the back of Cat’s legs, and
Nadi scrambled for Zorroc while Zory boldly approached the dark giant before him. The
top of his head came to Sherem’s knee. Sherem looked every bit the warrior he was
purported to be. His hair was straggly and unkempt, a rigid scar dissected one eyebrow,
and every contour of his face appeared carved into granite. His massive shoulders and
chest, corded arms and chiseled abs and legs reminded Cat of a mountain. He son
obviously agreed because he spouted belligerently, “I could climb you, I bet.”

Sherem glanced down and growled, “Yeah, well I could eat you.”
Zory screamed and decided to climb his father, instead.
What Nadia saw in this harsh being completely eluded her.
Zorroc growled warningly, popping his son onto his shoulders.
“What in hell is going on? Why weren’t you at the appointed co-ordinates and

what have you done with Nadia?” Zorroc roared; closing on Sherem slowly, impeded by
Nadi’s clasped legs and arms around one of Zorroc’s calves and Zory’s death grip
covering one eye.

Catarina hid a smile as she put her hand on Zorroc’s arm to halt his progress.

“Zorroc, sweetheart, give the poor man a chance to explain.”

“He is male not man. Different species, my own,” Zorroc tenderly clarified.

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“Man, male—you’re all alike but let’s please try to leash the testosterone

cacophony running wilder than our children. Sherem, please sit down. Let me get some
jive for all of us, I think choc-tea is a bit light considering the circumstances.” She stifled
Zorroc’s coming denial without a word then leveled a don’t-mess-with-me look at
Sherem. She may be small but she was potent. She had learned to stay ahead of these
cat-men, as she had persisted to think of them.

The implacable cat-stare they exchanged would clue anyone into their true nature.

Well, that and the way they moved—with the fluid grace of a panther—currently circling
one another. Cat pressed a glass into each hand and then sat. Both
cats…er…men...er…males…accepted the brew and stood down though Sherem
remained by the panel as if ready to flee at any moment.

“It is good to see you, Catarina, I am glad to see your children are well.” He

turned to Zorroc. “You have not changed a bit, Zorroc. We have much to discuss if we
are to free your sister. Your normal blustering will only deter us further,” he stated
gruffly.

The nanny arrived to take charge of the children but Cat could see she had no way

around the massive figure acting as another door to the room. Cat sighed. “Children, go
with Camille, she’ll take you for some ice cream and then the romper-room.” Sherem
visibly paled as the three miniature torpedoes charged straight for him. Trina and Nadi
went through his legs and Zory wound past his right calve grabbing hold as he sprang out
the exit. Still he remained frozen, apparently too horrified to move. Cat went over and
took his arm, and led him to a chair. “Just breathe, Sherem, you’ll recover in a moment,”
Cat advised soothingly as she plucked him down. Zorroc stuck a drink in front of his
face and toasted him; Sherem downed the drink in one swallow.

“Talk,” Zorroc barked.
“It is a long story but in essence, my honorary uncle, Kindarak, has taken Nadia.

He may want her for ransom or for himself; he seemed inordinately fixated on her when I
introduced them.”

“I don’t understand how you could let this happen,” Zorroc began.
“He planted a homing device on her while he entertained us on his ship for he

trans’d her right out from under the watchful eye of my brother while I prepared a
surprise of my own. He hopefully thinks the Portender is destroyed. It was our intent.

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That is the reason we attempted galaxy jump cloaked. We wanted to make him think he
succeeded so I could rescue my uh—your sister.”

“I am lost. Begin at the beginning.”
Sherem painstakingly filled them in when all he wanted was to go after his mate

and kill the maniac who had dared steel her. The ‘who’ behind the attacks on his life
while framing his brother for the deeds, the one responsible for the traitors aboard the
Portender, the supplier of Angels Gate, the kidnapper of his mate; all of the acts pointed
irrefutably to Kindarak. The one question remaining was why? As a trusted member of
the family of Baraden, Kindarak gained many an entrance into commerce and society that
would have been impossible for him to achieve from another source. Plus, the
unconditional friendship and trust bestowed upon him by the King and Queen of Nefar
and Godfather of all three royal children. Why throw away more than thirty cycles of
belonging, friendship, and trust? For monetary reasons alone? The facts and conjectures
played over and over in his head like a program loop in a computer system. He was
missing something vital, the key to the puzzle. An undetonated photon missile possibly
aimed toward all he held dear. He clenched his jaw so hard it felt like hardened cement,
his fists tight like steel pistons longed for action, only lacking their target. He hoped he
had the control to extract explanations before shredding Kindarak into bloody strips.

“So what is your plan? I assume you have one for getting my sister back

safely…” Zorroc lifted an eyebrow and waited while Catarina paced, becoming more
upset by the moment.

“Z, can’t you reach her through mind-speak?” Cat pleaded.
“Not until we achieve galaxy jump to our galaxy which we can acomplish in a

matter of hours,” Zorroc answered.

“Actually the Portender is ready now. My plan is to jump in tandem with the

Miramid so if Kindarak is paying attention it looks like only one ship. The Portender will
remain cloaked while we probe for your sister through her tracking bracelet and you
communicate with her telepathically. If you catch the attention of the Stealth, all the
better. It would seem only natural that you would initially mistake the Stealth for the
Portender. After they identify themselves, you can send greetings, even get chummy and
inquire about the Portender. Just don’t allow them near enough to detect us or attack.
My ‘uncle’ has turned predator and requires no reason to attach and destroy. I intend to

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rid the world of his presence as soon as I can extricate my mate. I no longer care about
the bond he holds with our family. When he took Nadia, his life became forfeit.”

Zorroc studied him for a moment. It was a good plan. There was even an outside

possibility that he would release Nadia to him, surely it was widely known that most
Gattonians were telepathic. “Will Kindarak be familiar with the telepathic abilities of
Gattonians, most in our galaxy seem to be. Maybe it would be wise to volunteer my
telepathic link to my sister when I contact him.”

“Zazu, I almost forgot about that, and I pray that Kindarak doesn’t think of it. He

might just kill Nadia to cover his tracks. As it is, he can simply plead ignorance or say
that we had departed some hours before. I can’t remember if I mentioned the Miramid.
Bran will know,” he decided.

Cat felt a presence before she could ask Sherem who Bran was, then was stunned

into immobility as she stared when a hairy monster solidly materialized beside her.

Zorroc, hearing the silent scream, jumped from his seat, lodging Cat behind him,

and had dagger drawn before Sherem could utter a word. His reflexes, however, allowed
him to grasp and still Zorroc’s hand.

The past days and lackadaisical response from Nadia and Tula to Bran made

Zorroc’s and Cat’s reaction all the more shocking, spiking his adrenalin.

“Meet Bran,” Sherem squeezed out between gritted teeth at the effort of keeping

Zorroc still.

Zorroc didn’t take his eyes off Bran as he asked, “What is that?”
“That is my friend and bodyguard and deserves your respect. He saved my life

almost a cycle ago and has been at my side ever since. Bran,” Sherem said, turning to his
friend, “this is Nadia’s family, as you already know.”

“Well, he certainly has my respect. Is, uh, is he friendly?” Cat asked.
“Only to those who are friendly in return. Nadia took to him at first sight, they

even communicate telepathically.”

Cat turned back to Bran and studied him with interest. Her shy and sometimes

timid sister-in-law didn’t run from this monstrous mongrel? Sherem read the question in
her expressive eyes. “Their acceptance of each other came as somewhat of a surprise to
me, as well. Bran is an ankou and most likely more intelligent than our own species.”

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“Wow. I’m sorry for being so, um, startled, Bran, it’s nice to meet you. I would

imagine keeping this mercenary warrior alive is a full-time occupation.” Bran gifted her
with a full-toothed grin and bark.

“If you can speak to Nadia telepathically; do you know if she is all right?”

Catarina’s question caught Sherem by surprise and he looked to Bran.

“Telepathy cannot traverse galaxies,” Zorroc stated, “but as soon as we make the

jump I will be able to reach her.”

“Arrogant humans; she is unconscious. He incapacitated her almost immediately

and I presume will keep her that way until he believes she cannot be heard or contacted.
It might be useful for Kindarak to believe that this one’s telepathic abilities are quite
limited.” He yanked his head in Zorroc’s direction.

Sherem fought to hide the grin as he offered, “Bran told me that Kindarak

rendered her unconscious, possibly to assure no one can mind-speak with her. He
believes it would be wise to let him believe that your powers in that area are limited and
even weak so he will allow her to awaken. Maybe you can let it slip during your
conversation with Kindarak.”

Zorroc pinned the ankou with a steely stare. “Perhaps that would be wise, if we

can finesse a conversation to reveal it,” he murmured then added. “And we will make her
powers weak unless he already knows differently. Which brings us to the original
question. How much does he know about our plans to meet?”

All eyes focused on the ankou but Sherem replied. “The rendezvous with the

Miramid was never mentioned but he would have been informed of the intent to locate
her. It was the primary mission.”

“Where do you think he will try to take her?” Cat asked, not liking the way the

ankou was measuring her mate.

“The sooner we return to our galaxy, the sooner we will know,” Sherem

answered.

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Chapter Nineteen

Sonny crept closer to the voices and froze, straining to hear the conversation. He

dared not venture any closer for fear of reprisal. The last time he’d been caught spying,
they’d thrown him in a dark hole until he could no longer stand. That was when he made
the discovery that saved his life. The ventilation ducts that catacombed the massive ship
and led to hundreds of hidey holes. Long after the crew had forgotten his existence, he
had stored clothes, food, and blankets in every section of the Stealth. Sun had outsmarted
them all.

It was quiet in the deserted cabin, once again. He waited, still as mold and then

moved as light as dust toward the vent opening. He waited some more before peeking
through the grid. A shiny inert lump covered the berth where he occasionally slept. He
didn’t think it was a trap to draw him out but he had to be careful. He laid out flat about
a foot from the grid and waited. He finally slept making no movement.

Nadia rolled over onto her back and groaned from staying in the same position for

too long. Her right hip and thigh were asleep and her neck felt like it had been clamped
in a vice. Where was she? Not on the Portender she instantly realized. Her pulse
jumped so hard she felt her heart jerk into her throat and she groaned again. She had
been kidnapped for the third time, if she counted Dakar. And she knew that this time
would not be nearly so pleasant. Zazu, this was getting old; she wasn’t even as
frightened as the last time. Checking her wrist for her bracelet, Nadia sighed at the feel
of warm metal encircling her pulse point. Sherem would find her…or her brother.
“Rocky, are you there?”

Nothing.
“Bran, can you read me?”
Nadia felt something strange, a probing…then nothing. Dead space. Where were

they, had Kindarak galaxy jumped to the Milky Way or another island universe, possibly

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unknown to Sherem or Zorroc? A fission of fear zapped through her making her shiver
unexpectedly. They would find her; the alternative was too ghastly to contemplate.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, shapes began to emerge. A shapeless blob about

three feet high and two feet round was heaped in a corner of the small cell. Something
that could be an ancient commode stood in another corner and then there was the narrow
cot she occupied. Not exactly quality accommodations which somewhat surprised her
considering Kindarak’s opulent taste in all things. Was she to his taste? The thought sent
another tremor through her. If he tried to touch her, her skin would probably crystallize
and jump off her frame like so many fleas. That vision caused an inappropriate giggle
bubbling through her parched lips.

She froze at a slight creaking sound adjacent her cot as a portion of wall seemed

to shimmer and move exposing a black hole, and then something began to emerge,
snaking its way toward her. A balloon of air began to fill her diaphragm and rose slowly
to form a horror filled scream when a small, child-like voice whispered “Shh”. Nadia
forced her eyes open as far as she could; not believing her senses. A tiny human took
shape before her.

“Wh-what are you,” Nadia whispered breathlessly.
He huffed impatiently. “I am a boy. What do I look like?”
“How did you find me? Did he send you to frighten six cycles off my heart?”

Why she was so certain of her abductor she didn’t bother to contemplate. She simply
knew it for the truth.

The child snorted. “Not likely, he thinks I’m dead.” A whispered “I hope”

followed his statement. He took a step closer and added. “I saw them bring you in but it
took a while to find you and then I had to wait until I was sure they had gone, and then I
had to wait until you woke up. Did he buy you too?” he wanted to know.

“No, I am the Princess of Gattonia and mate to the Prince of Nefar. He kidnapped

me from our ship.” Nadia had scant experience speaking with little people and wondered
how much he understood about grown-ups and their motives…and evil. She couldn’t
make out his expression, which made the task of communicating even more difficult.
She forged ahead and hoped she was taking the right tact. “I believe he is not a nice
person, maybe even bad.”

“You are mistaken; he is the devil, himself,” he assured her, standing erect, with

his hands on his hips.

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159

Nadia nodded in the dark but had a feeling he saw her perfectly. “What is your

name and how old are you?” He looked no more than a few cycles older than her
nephews.

“I can’t remember the name my mama called me, I think it was Rees, but here

they call me Sonny. I don’t know how old I am cuz I don’t know how long I’ve been
here.” He sighed and turned his head away. “Seems like forever. I excaped’em long
time ago and live in the tunnels that supply oxygen and tempcontrol. Cook leaves me
food by the kitchen vent at night and sometimes other stuff.” Sonny’s voice sounded
hoarse as if he hadn’t spoken for a while. Considering how he lived, Nadia was not
surprised. How could they mistreat a child this way. He couldn’t be more than six cycles
even if he were large for his age, which Nadia doubted strongly. He was wraith thin as if
he’d been slowly starved. She wanted to sob her eyes out for him but knew he’d take
great offense at her concern. He obviously was extremely brave and had fended for
himself for who knew how long. He deserved respect and she would give it to him.

“My name is Nadia and I’m very happy to have a friend here in this scary place.

You will be my friend, won’t you Sonny?”

“Sure, you’re just a girl and need taking care of. I always took care of my ma ‘til

we ran out of food…” His voice trailed off and Nadia thought he might begin to cry but
he emitted no sound.

She cleared her throat. “Is there a light in here? My eyes aren’t used to the dark

like I’ll bet yours are.”

“It’s not safe to light the panel, they’ll know you’re awake and come for ya, but

I’ve got something that won’t alert them.” He pulled out a flicker, a small hand held
illumination device and switched it on. The room glowed dimly, similar to candlelight
and Nadia got her first real glimpse of her comrade. His feline eyes dominated his face.
Dark skin stretched tightly across his cheekbones, forehead, and chin below a ratted mop
of black shoulder length hair. Ragged, torn, dirty shirt and shorts ripped just above his
bony knees covered his small frame. His feet were bare. When Nadia met his steady
gaze, proud, defiant, and impossibly weary; her heart lurched. He had the soul of an
seasoned warrior, an expression Sherem wore on occasion that proclaimed he had
witnessed too much of the dark side of life.

“You are obviously clever, smart and canny to have alluded Kindarak and his

minions and to have picked your allies well. I hope you will consider me one because

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when my mate comes for me, and he will; you will come with me and begin a new life of
freedom and light. I swear this to you, Sonny, on my honor as a Princess.”

Sonny smiled sadly. “I all ready have my freedom; leastways more than you, and

where would I go? These tunnels are my home, the only one I know. I don’t know
where I came from or if my mama is alive and would even want me back,” he admitted
gravely.

“You would have a home with me, Sonny. Sherem and I will adopt you, if you

like us, and if not you can be employed in an important position and have money of your
own.” Nadia explained this wanting only to secure his co-operation for there was no way
she would leave him in such dire circumstances. What mother would sell her child into
this kind of hell? Whatever the answer, it would end when Sherem came for her because
she would not leave without him.

His haunted expression was followed by a fast scurried movement toward the

ventilation grid and sudden blackness. “They come,” his disembodied whisper warned.
“Play dead or they’ll drug you again. I’ll be back later with food.” He gulped audibly
then disappeared with no further sound.

Nadia collapsed on the cot and ordered her breathing and heart rate to mimic sleep

but her pulse thundered every beat muffling her hearing.

“Get up, you,” one announced as he entered. The aroma of hot food filled the

chamber. She willed her stomach not to growl. He moved to where her head lie and
lifted a square board hanging on the wall to a horizontal position making a small table
and plunked the food on it.

Another guard walked to her and shook hard. She groaned but remained lax. “He

said she’d come around about now. How we supposed to get her to eat if she’s still out?”

“Maybe she’s faking. A couple of hard pops ought to get her attention.”
“He said no rough stuff. She’s to be left unspoiled!” he mimicked the last part.
“All right then.” The second guard approached her and screamed in her ear,

“Princess, this here food will be eaten or we’ll stuff it down your throat when we get
back.”

The two opened the panel and retreated down the corridor. “Why does he care if

the bitch eats?”

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“It’s drugged. Keeps her from trying to contact any of her people. She’s got the

telepathy thing, the master says.” Nadia overheard the fading conversation though she
wouldn’t have touched the food no matter what.

A barely audible scratching followed and a small hand snaked out snatching the

plate and goblet. They disappeared for a moment then retuned empty. “You don’t want
that,” the childish voice said. “I’ll visit later with some other stuff that won’t make you
sleepy.”

“Thank you, Sonny,” she answered to the darkness.

* * *

“She is awake and attempting to reach us,” Bran commented to the chaotic voices

trying to figure out the best way to rescue Nadia and terminate the Stealth. Sudden
silence ensued for a long moment.

“You can communicate with her over galaxies? She is speaking? Is she all right,

what is her location, what does she know of Kindarak’s plans?”

“Cease, Sherem!” Bran insisted. “She is awake but alone and knows nothing.”
“Are you sure he is reading Nadia? Telepathy is thought impossible unless both

parties inhabit the same galactic nebula or species,” Zorroc explained.

“Inform small minded fool that it is that belief that sets the barrier not the varying

nebula.”

Sherem fought to hide the grin striving for purchase. “Er, he said his telepathic

path, um, can breach the universes.”

Zorroc looked at him doubtfully before turning to Bran. “What does she know?

Let’s make galaxy jump immediately so I can speak with her.” Zorroc stood and made
for the panel, ready to make final preparations. Cat remained seated, staring at the ankou.

“Wait,” Sherem commanded, also contemplating Bran. “Nadia must not know we

survived. Kindarak will visit her to gloat over the Portender’s destruction and her
reactions must be genuine or he may be on to us.” Turning to his now brother in-law.
“Zorroc, you must pretend ignorance of the whereabouts of my ship after galaxy jump is
accomplished. Can you shield from her or will she know you are lying?”

Zorroc sighed. “She is the strongest telepath I have ever felt. I have tried to hide

that fact from her but heaven only knows what she has plucked from my mind. Can I
shield my knowledge from her? Possibly, but you underestimate Nadia because even if

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Kindarak or I tell her of your supposed fate, she will not believe it, and trying to convince
her would be pointless. So her reaction either way will be the same.”

“But you will try.”
“I will try.”
“And your mate?” Sherem skewed Catarina.
“Don’t look at me, I don’t have the gift.” At Sherem’s continued scrutiny Cat

blurted, “Okay, I can read my mate, but that is the extent of my talent. And that fact is
confidential for security reasons.”

Zorroc looked at his mate with bemused humor. “You couldn’t lie if your life

depended upon it,” he messaged.

“Stop it, he is family. He has a right to know, it will probably happen to him, as

well, when he and Nadia become closer.”

Zorroc tilted his head in hot, knowing contemplation. “I believe you are right, my

one.” His heated look made her blush like an untried female.

“Enough, both of you. Telepathy is not necessary to know your precise

thoughts,” Sherem stated. “Careful, Leader of Gattonia, or your mate will drop another
litter of maniacs you affectionately refer to as children.” Sherem belly laughed at
Zorroc’s paled complexion.

Catarina joined in Sherem’s laughter and patted her mate on the knee. “Just

breathe, sweetheart,” she advised.

Zorroc was not at all amused. “Just wait, barbarian, for your own ‘Litter’,” he

responded.

Sherem sobered immediately, he would tolerate twenty little maniacs for the safe

return of his mate.

“Do not concern yourself, my friend, we will not fail,” Bran messaged.
“Let us prepare to jump, and after Nadia is safe by my side—blow Kindarak to his

new home in hell,” Sherem ordered.

* * *

“What do you intend?” the Kerrdic Prince demanded.
“Ah, Ryder, I believe we have an opportunity that cannot be ignored. The

Portender with the two eldest princes have been dusted and now we have the Miramid,
purported to carry not only the Leader of Gattonia but also his mate and heirs. The
temptation to repeat my former performance, I find almost irresistible. All that lovely

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Assyllis.” He turned to Ryder who was visibly sweating and had paled to ghost white.
“Did you order your two star ships to the co-ordinates I gave you?” Kindarak asked
silkily.

“Yes,” Ryder lied easily. If it cost him his life, so be it, but he would not risk

more of Kerr’s fighting forces and innocent lives just to accommodate a drugged up
psychopath.

“Good—“ Kindarak hesitated before continuing, noticing Ryder’s slight tremble,

then added, “boy,” he finished.

“I believe it will be a most unfortunate accident, a dreadful misunderstanding and

you, Prince Ryder, will swear to it. I will, of course, take over Gattonia—“

“You promised Nadia to me. I should be the one to rule Gattonia as her lifemate.”
Silence reined indefinitely while Kindarak studied the rebellious pup. He would

like to eliminate him but he needed those starships to carry out his plans. Kindarak
thought. Nadia was his; he had stolen her and she was his to do with as he wished. He
decided to play along Ryder, at least for the immediate future. “I gave you my word and
of course it will stand. You can have the chit.”

Ryder let out an audible sigh before adding, “The key, your Excellence. I would

visit my future mate and why is she being held a prisoner in that dank windowless pit.
She is a princess and should be treated with more courtesy. It is not like she can escape.”

“She could be telepathic, the room she inhabits is lead-lined. I was told that it

blocks messaging or so the previous owner bragged.” Toward the end of
their…association. At the time Kindarak thought him lack-brained—reading someone’s
mind seemed far-fetched at best. But now he was grateful for the amenity. Fate
continued to favor him. “Take some things to her if you must but don’t expect her to
thank you, I am keeping her sedated. Here is the panel code.” When Ryder reached for
the card, Kindarak snatched it away. “One more thing, my boy, I will rule Nefar and
mate with her queen and I will allow nothing to stand in my way. And you, Prince
Ryder, will make sure that Kerr welcomes me as an ally, the consequences if you
prevaricate will prove…unfortunate.” Ryder tersely nodded and left without a word.

Ryder rushed back to his POD as fast as he could without actually fleeing like the

coward he was. Zazu, Kindarak really had annihilated the Portender, a feat all believed
impossible. Ryder could not comprehend a universe without Sherem, the greatest warrior
of all time. The male was an icon, more than a legend and Kindarak had blasted him into

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the next realm. He wanted to cry. Sherem was someone he both hated and worshipped.
Worshipped because everyone loved an unbeatable force that risked his life for the good
of those weaker than himself and hated him for the same reason because three cycles past
Ryder was one of those he’d had to save—rescue like an untried youth mired in a clumsy,
perilous mess. One that could have ended his life if not for the Prince of Nefar. Sherem
took on a gaming room full of gambling smugglers and mean drunks and bested or killed
them all, while Ryder cringed in a corner watching it unfold. He moved with the grace
and speed of a panther; pivoting, flexing, leaping, and veering with such sure execution
he looked like a dancer in some macabre ballet. Never had he seen the like…and now he
never would again. He wanted to weep, but it was too late; too late for everything. He
may continue to breathe but his life was over. And now Kindarak planned to destroy the
Miramid and claim Gattonia—Ryder knew that with the same surety that he, the Golden
Prince of Kerr, had allowed it to happen, even assisted. Zazu, he wanted to die; too bad
he was too much of a coward to accomplish even that like a male.

If he only had it to do over, he would set his stupid pride aside and help Sherem

kick Kindarak into the realm of the damned where he so rightly belonged. He and Satan
would love each other—two peas in a boiling pod.

He halted in mid-stride. But there was one thing he could do; rescue the princess

and put her into the safe hands of her brother. Even better, he could warn her of
Kindarak’s plans and let her telepathically relay the information to Zorroc. If he couldn’t
save Sherem and the Portender he might be able to extricate Nefar and Gattonia from the
clutches of a megalomaniac. If he accomplished that, maybe he could stand to look
himself in the mirror, once again. Ryder raced with new purpose and prayed to Zazu and
all the other Gods and messengers above to let him succeed.

* * *

“Thank you, Sonny, come sit beside me while I eat.” Nadia hesitated, had he

given up his meal for her? He was so painfully thin. Nadia knew that boys destined to be
exceptionally large often looked too thin. Their bodies simply couldn’t get enough fuel
no matter how much they consumed. Nadia herself was an example. She was more live
wire than girl. Again she observed Sonny and noticed the slight bulge of his stomach.
Instinctively she knew it was not from over-eating or a full belly but the first signs of
starvation. The sight robbed her of what little appetite she had. She had consumed
approximately half of what he brought. She grabbed her stomach and groaned. “Oh,

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Sonny, I appreciate the meal but I believe the drug they fed me must have soured my
stomach…and there is so much left. What can we do?”

Sonny fell on the food, assuring her not to be concerned; he would not let it be

discovered. Nadia fought against a telling grin. He may be exceptionally bright but he
was still just a growing boy. She patted his head imagining what his hair would look like
clean and brushed. Tears filled her eyes with the image of them together laughing with
him clean and well nourished. If she thought he would allow it, she would hug him to
within an inch of his life. Sherem had no way of knowing but they would be starting
their family a little early.

“Nadia,” Zorroc messaged. Nadia grabbed Sonny and whispered that her brother

had found her. Sonny looked like she had lost her senses. “I’m telepathic, that means I
can talk to my brother through my mind just like we do when we’re together. He will
save us, Sonny, will you sit on my lap while I communicate with him?”

Sonny scrambled away. “Uh, I’ll just go and get rid of the plate but I’ll be back,

do not be afraid Nadia.” He disappeared through the vent leaving his light behind. Nadia
smiled after him and then turned her mind to her brother.

“Rocky, where are you?”
“That’s supposed to be my line, dizzy.”
Nadia teared up at the childhood nickname. “Trapped on a madman’s ship; be

careful Zorroc, this guy is truly certifiable. Have you connected with Sherem? Why
won’t Bran answer me? I’m almost positive he touched my mind.”

Zorroc ignored the reference to the ankou. “I don’t know what happened but the

Portender was not at the agreed upon co-ordinates, he must have galaxy jumped. I’m
sure he’ll turn up, he always does. Remember that, baby, when things get rough. Do you
know your location?”

“Of course not, I’m stuck in not a nice cell while my hosts are determined to drug

me so I can’t speak to you.”

“Are you starving yourself?” His tone was urgent almost frantic. That was the

thing about brothers, they never outgrew their over-protective gene.

“No, I found a friend who is prisoner, as well. There will be two of us vacating, I

will not leave without him.”

“Him?” Zorroc asked tentatively.

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“Him,” Nadia confirmed. “The most clever, brave, inventive boy of five cycles

you will ever meet.”

Zorroc chuckled in her mind and Nadia was afraid she would lose her brave

façade and start blubbering like a helpless female any moment. “Rocky, find Sherem, he
put one of those tracking devices on my wrist. He can just trans me out but it will have to
be timed so that I can take Sonny with me.”

“Sonny like s-o-n or S-u-n?”
“You know, I’m not sure. He may not know either, but I will ask. Geez, picky,

picky. What does it matter? Just find Sherem and spring us.”

“You sound just like Cat when you put it that way,” Zorroc remarked.
“Yeah, well lay down with Cat, wake up with slang. You spend enough time with

someone and you pick up a few things. Sometimes I think Sherem is convinced that Cat is
a bad influence on me.”

“You’re just growing into your own person. A very vibrant, special, independent

one.”

It seemed that he wanted to say something else but stopped himself.
“Rocky, is everything alright—the tri-terrorists, Cat, the aunts?”
“Trust me, baby, you’re the only one in peril and don’t discount it but I promise

I’ll get you and your new boyfriend out. You realize that another male could make your
mate jealous.”

“I’ll take my chances. If you can’t reach me, the bad guys succeeded in drugging

me again but I’m still here. Zorroc, find Sherem. He wouldn’t leave me in this situation,
I’m beginning to worry.”

“Baby, I thought I could do this but I can’t. The Portender and your pigheaded

mate are just fine. He thought it best to keep you out of the loop but I have faith you’ll
play it just right and not give us away. Kindarak tried to destroy the Portender but your
cunning fox fired a nucspike and expunged enough debris and dead bodies to convince
him the Portender is no more.”

“If Sherem is really with you and everything is alright then why do need my co-

ordinates?”

“You must be in a cell that blocks tracking devices. Ask if you can go for a

walk.”

“Do you honestly believe they’re that stupid?”

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“I won’t bother with a reply. Everything will work out, Nadia. We all love you

and don’t worry about us; we know what we’re dealing with. One last thing, Dizzy, play
down your telepathic capabilities and maybe they will stop drugging it. And don’t forget
your defense lessons.”

The link went blank.

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Chapter Twenty

Sherem, felt like he was coming out of his skin—if this was love he wanted no

part of it. Every hour spent away from his mate-defined torture. What was Kindarak
doing to her? Would he crush the spirit blooming within Nadia? He could not bear to
contemplate her circumstance. After employing relaxation rituals in order to rest had
failed, he decided to dress and plan their next move, which was turning out to be his next
conundrum. His mind, usually so logical on multiple levels could not seem to discern
which boot accommodated what foot let alone anticipate the motivations or probable
strategy of an ‘Uncle’ turned mad-man. The only path his mind wanted to follow
involved the well-being of his mate.

He had never been a male plagued with introspection, he left that road to his

siblings, his was a world of reflexes and problem solving, not philosophy and sentiment.
Presented with a circumstance, he would turn it this way and that, learning its facets and
studying hidden crevices for traps—then determine the best, most expedient path toward
victory. He did so with confidence, never faltering or second-guessing his decisions, the
Nefari gift of enhanced senses made it akin to child’s play; but his internal compass had
veered off course, suddenly pulling toward feeling instead of fact. When dealing with
passion over logic he felt like the proverbial bull in a china shop—clumsy, inept, untried.
And since Nadia had entered his life he felt like he was wading through an emotional
swamp. The fortress of logic and reflexes that surrounded him crashed around his ears by
one tiny trickle of light that was Nadia, and when that damn of lightening burst through,
his feelings of love for her overwhelmed him with paralyzing clarity. Now she was his
fortress and if he didn’t find a way to get her back safely his world would not be worth a
pebble of logic or a dusting of agility.

He’d be the first to admit that he was intractable, overconfident in his intelligence

and physical capabilities, but that was before Nadia had exploded into his universe with
one kiss…no it wasn’t just a kiss, that was the problem. It was the feel of her in his arms,

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her scent, her fathomless eyes and the rightness of her body pressed to his. It was as if he
recognized her on some visceral level never before opened to him.

Someone pounded on his outer panel. “Come,” he ordered.
“It is time to move, Nefari,” Zorroc stated, leaning against the entranceway.
Sherem grunted his agreement and brushed past him. “I contemplated contacting

my parents but I am afraid that as we are capable of monitoring Stealth’s
communications, so are they able to intercept ours.”

Zorroc shook his head. “Not on the Miramid, we came up with a system that has

been proven secure, so we can contact them, the only drawback is that they cannot
respond unless they have the same fail-safe software, and no one has it but us.”

“Damn, I hate that ego-soaked superiority you Gattonians wallow in. How do

you stand yourselves?”

“It has to do with our captivating charm, I believe,” Zorroc responded with a

smirk.

Sherem barked out a laugh, in the three cycles since the Dargon attack, he had

come to almost tolerate the Gattonian leader.

* * *

Nadia woke with a start. She had fallen asleep with Sonny tucked snuggly within

her arms. Now she was alone but for the malevolent presence at the entrance to her cell.

“Ah, you are awake, my amber jewel. I have wonderful news to impart. I am

sure you will be delighted to hear that your barbarian has gone to the next realm along
with his brother and the rest of the crew of the Portender. Such an unfortunate accident.
It seems that when we separated, the Portender miscalculated and blew themselves up. It
was a great pity but the fireworks were invigorating. I wish you had been awake to
witness it.” At Nadia’s horrified gasp, he continued. “Now, now, don’t thank me, I
really had very little to do with it. Tut, tut, such incompetence should not be borne in
space, it was only a matter of time until tragedy struck, I am only relieved that you were
not aboard. Devine providence, that’s what it was—that you chose me over that moronic
barbarian. Can I get you anything, my dear? They tell me you are not eating properly.
Maybe some company would spark your appetite, cook could prepare a celebration
dinner…”

“You are a pathetic result of jealousy and too many drugs not to mention a crew

of arse kissers that you believe, even for a moment, could best my mate,” Nadia informed

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him coldly. “Sherem is the greatest warrior of our time and no strutting, megalomaniac,
over inflated, peacock could ever defeat him, and nothing you say—NOTHING will
convince me otherwise. Now get out before I take the pleasure of killing you away from
my mate.” Nadia’s voice dropped with horse menacing intent before she rushed him and
Kindarak jerked back instinctively. A move that seemed to infuriate even while it cowed
him.

A glint of pure menace shimmered deeply in his eyes before he drew himself up

rigidly and continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “No?” Kindarak inquired lightly while
easing toward the exit, “then I will leave you once more but with some well intended
advise. You will come to me, Amber. In the end you will beg me to take you, that I
promise. Oh, by the way, that is your new name—Amber is so much more descriptive,
don’t you agree? Soon, Amber, soon, but business before pleasure, I’m afraid.” He
turned and darted through the panel then paused. “Oh, I am sorry for the
accommodations but we are on our way to pick up a guest, my only remaining nephew
and the son of my heart. We can’t have you distracting me from my purpose so until all
is concluded, you will remain here. Do try the food though, darling, we cannot have you
wilting away before our pleasure is slacked, now can we?” Nadia waited until his
footsteps could no longer be heard before she lurched for the refuse pot at the corner and
dry heaved into it. She was sick with rage. Where had she found the courage to speak so
to the male that held her life in his hands?

She messaged her brother and this time put a no-nonsense, don’t mess with me

push behind it. She could fairly feel Zorroc jump in response.

“Good evening, Nadia, something on your mind?” Zorroc inquired humorously.
“What kind of a brother are you? I have been frantic with worry and you had

better have an excellent reason for ignoring me and leaving me to rot with this yaking
loon…and YELP—“

The sound echoed both through her mind and through the room she occupied.

Nadia vaguely registered her brother’s concerned summons but she was frozen into place
by an apparition oozing out of the wall to appear directly in front of her. It appeared to
be content to simply float there in front of her sporting a smirk that should have been
terrifying but looked a trifle silly.

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“Are you a g-g-ghost?” Nadia whispered. Geez, she thought, he even laughed

like a ghost…or what she perceived a laughing ghost would laugh like. Nadia slowly
pulled her feet off the floor and tucked them underneath her atop her mat.

The ghost seemed to lose some of his joviality as he studied her briefly. “I am not

a ghost but from Kerr. I am sure you have heard we are able to travel outside of our
bodies but we cannot retain our shape indefinitely, so I would ask that you listen.
Kindarak has destroyed the Portender and all their crew. I’m afraid Sherem is gone. I
am deeply sorry and most distressed but now I believe Kindarak will attack the Miramid
and attempt to take over the rule of Gattonia. Kindarak, though always a power grabbing
crook, seems to be losing touch with reality and in my estimation, on his way to complete
insanity making him even more dangerous than before.

“Can you warn your brother through telepathy? If I send a transmission it will

cost me my life if discovered.”

“Where is your body?”
He smiled sadly. “I am being held here and blackmailed into doing his bidding

until I can extricate myself,” he replied. His image began to fade with each second he
remained and now was very faint. I will come to you in the morning with amenities to
make you more comfortable. Until then…”

Nadia had a million questions including whether he would help her escape but all

she did was nod her understanding and whisper, “I will try to reach my brother. Thank
you for the warning.” Her last comment she spoke to the wall. After the immediate
shock of seeing the apparition, she recognized Ryder, the prince of Kerr. He said he was
being held against his will. He was famous for getting himself into scrape after reckless
scrape involving females, drink, and gambling. But if what he said was true, his current
situation proved more deadly than the others. It could, however, be a trap to measure her
powers. Kindarak may have ordered Ryder to contact her. Could she trust him? Would
he help her escape?

“What was that?” a small voice asked from the direction of the vent. Nadia

sighed, she thought it more than a titch ironic that her cell had become as busy with
arrivals and departures as any public trans-port and the only one stuck was the one who
most wanted to leave—but then again they were all prisoners of the mad peacock.

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“He looked a lot like a male I’ve seen around, a prince or something,” Sonny

continued, slowly creeping into her room and inspecting the spot where the image had
floated.

Nadia didn’t know how much she should confide in the child. Not because she

did not trust him but it seemed a little unfeeling. He already carried the burden of too
many secrets on his bird thin shoulders and what if by some chance her cell was being
bugged. The thought caused a chill to skirt up her spine and along her shoulders. She
held out her arms and said, “Come here and climb on my lap and I’ll whisper it to you.”
Sonny was becoming more affectionate but slowly and with guarded trepidation. How
long since he had been held and coddled?

* * *

Sherem railed non-stop at the Gattonian Prince since losing the telepathic link

with his sister thirty minutes before. “Try again,” Sherem barked for the hundredth time.
“If you’d agreed to stay in constant touch with her these last days we’d have a much
better idea of her situation and safety. What if he’s drugged her again, what if they’re
dosing her with Angels Gate, what if…”

He moaned, sank to a chair, and crushed his hair in fisted anguish. What if they’d

given her a date-rape drug and were tearing her apart in both spirit and body. Until their
current situation, that was the most horrifying sight of his life. He still had nightmares
and day-visions about it and in the last days since Nadia had been taken, they were with
him constantly. He moved to block his eyes and rising tears with the heals of his hands
and strove to keep his shoulders from quaking. The waiting had finally broken him.

“I swear our bond that your mate is well and not being mistreated in any

way…and if I may add, holding up much better than you, my friend.”

Sherem’s head shot up. “You didn’t tell me you were mind-speaking with her,”

he accused, not quite trusting Bran’s revelation.

“And I am not, but I have been monitoring her moods and conversations. She has

the heart of a true warrior, Sherem, you can be proud of her. And she does have her
allies who do what they can to make her comfortable, so calm yourself, the time for panic
is not yet at hand.”

“I never panic,” he grumbled. “Thank you for telling me but why not inform me

before this. Why wait until I make a complete and total ass of myself?”

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The ankou shrugged. “It has been a mere twenty-four hours, therefore did not

occur to me. And it has been a great pleasure to see you in such a state. If she were in
danger I would have stepped in.”

“Stepped in?”
“It is not possible to trans onto the Stealth? Even so, the timing would not be

optimum and so I deprive myself of a most satisfying banquet.” Bran sighed
dramatically making his friend smile for the first time since Nadia’s abduction. “It is
always best to play your hand and not someone else’s.”

“Where are you learning the philosophy of battle strategy?”
Bran smiled so wide his tongue fell out the side of his mouth but didn’t reply.

Sherem just shook his head and then froze Bran with a look of determination.

“Contact her now. Ask if she is well. Tell her everything, every last detail of our

situation and beg any information she may have in order to trans her out of there.”

“Beg? Ankous never beg. I shall, however, inquire if you beg me to do so.” He

looked inordinately pleased with himself.

“She is in a dead cell, what can she know of her position?” Zorroc asked finally

understanding the telepathic link the two shared.

Sherem turned to Zorroc and answered with clenched teeth. “She has comrades

inside; they may provide her with them. I want my mate back—Now! If she can learn
where she is being held we can trans in and rescue her before Kindarak knows we have
been there, if nothing else Bran knows her scent and can lead us to her. Make no
mistake, my first priority before any other business is Nadia and I will accomplish it with
or without your co-operation.”

Zorroc’s mouth worked, not trying too hard to hide a smirk as he returned

Sherem’s steely gaze and nodded. Kindarak’s motives remained a mystery that had to be
solved but Nadia must come first. “How do you propose we accomplish this feat,
barbarian?”

“I believe it is time you make contact with the Stealth, don’t you?” Sherem

smiled in anticipation. “Let’s see how my dear uncle explains the disappearance of the
Portender.”

Cat held up a hand. “And what reason do you give for wanting to contact her? It

seems to me that the less Kindarak thinks we know, the safer for us all, especially Nadia.
If we go in there asking a bunch of questions, won’t that make him suspicious?” She

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turned to Sherem. “How much does he know, or could have been told by the spy on your
ship?”

“I can’t be sure, we’ll just have to feel our way and let Kindarak do the probing.”
Zorroc smiled his agreement. “We’ll COM a general inquiry as to the

whereabouts of your ship and see who answers, shall we?”

“But first, one of you must mind-speak with Nadia, perhaps she has news that will

erase some of our concerns,” Sherem ordered quietly.

Bran and Zorroc looked at each other until Bran shrugged and admitted, “She will

be more relieved to hear from me, I believe, as proof that we indeed survived.”

“Bran will speak with her, meanwhile you can send out the inquiry.”
“There is a small common area down the hall and to the left. You will find

comfort and privacy. Cat and I will be up on seven taking care of the missive. Come to
the bridge if Nadia imparts information of import.” Sherem nodded following Bran out
of the room.

“Nadia,” Bran queried.
“Bran, you are safe—and Sherem—and Dakar and Tula—and the crew—and the

Portender?” Nadia shouted into his mind making him see stars.

“Control yourself, tone down; your psi is giving me a migraine.”
“My apologies; your presence in my mind is very relieving.”
“What disturbance severed your connection to your brother? He is concerned as

we all are. Are you well and unharmed?”

“Oh, that. It seems I acquired another ally. The Prince of Kerr is onboard;

apparently another “guest” of Kindarak’s. He made himself known in a very peculiar
fashion but says he wants to help. He told me the Portender is destroyed and that
Kindarak has similar plans for the Miramid. Kindarak believes the same, for he visited
to gleefully lament over the unfortunate “accident”. I believe him insane, Bran. A
hypothesis shared by more than a few but thus far he has not harmed me. I am well.”

“I am relieved that he bought our supposed destruction, it makes our plan even

more plausible.”

“When will you come for me? I am by no means safe; Kindarak intends to keep

me as a sex slave, second wife, or mistress. I do not care to fill any of those roles.”

Bran growled and Nadia felt a wisp of frustration from another source. “Bran, is

Sherem there with you?”

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“Yes, why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I felt him in my mind. At least I think it was him; are you

communicating with him while you speak with me,” Nadia asked, excitement pounding
through her veins at the prospect. What if they could communicate through Bran.

“I understand your desire. Give us a moment to experiment,” Bran entreated.
“Misulu, I…You complete me. Keep yourself safe. Swear to me,” the far away

voice ordered.

Nadia smiled. It was Sherem and usual he was spitting orders for her to obey.

She was so happy and relieved to hear him that tears flooded her eyes leaking down her
cheeks. Sonny, who had fallen asleep in her arms, came awake in distress for her. She
murmured that they were happy tears and to rest a bit more.

“I will try, my mate. And I love you too. Thank you, Bran, I am forever in your

debt no matter how things turn out.”

“All will be well,” Bran answered. “Link ended.”

* * *

Kindarak was overjoyed to receive the inquiry. “Miramid, this is the Stealth. My

COM officer just received your transmission and brought me the missive. I am most
regretful to be the bearer of sad tidings but I am afraid the Portender met with a hostile
ship and was apparently ambushed.

“I have sent numerous PODs out to search for survivors but it appears the hit was

clean. The Stealth arrived on the scene too late to save my nephews but we did destroy
their enemy,” Kindarak added sadly.

“Who were they?” Zorroc asked curiously.
“I am not sure, the emblem was Kerrdic, but most likely the ship was stolen, after

all, the Provinces of Kerr and Nefar are allies, at least last I heard. Do you know if that
may have changed Lord Zorroc?”

“I have been away for some time but believe they remain at peace,” Zorroc

answered noncommittally.

“Well then, there you have it. It must have been the work of space pirates;

something really must be done, the skies are becoming unsafe for even the most
formidable warrior vessels, let alone non-combatants like ourselves.”

“Would you have any news, by chance? We received a message from the

Portender to COM them when we achieved galaxy jump, but were not told the nature of

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the request. I got the impression that my sister had a hand in it somehow.” Zorroc drew
in an audible breath. Catarina rolled her eyes at his melodramatics. “You don’t suppose
she could have been aboard…”

“I pray that it is not the case. Can you not reach her through telepathy? I

understand it is a Gattonian trait.”

“Yes, but like all peoples, some gifts are stronger than others. My sister,

unfortunately did not inherit the talent, but she is beautiful and intelligent enough for it
not to be of consequence…up until now, that is.”

“Yesss, truly unfortunate. What are your co-ordinates? Perhaps it would be safer

to travel together for a time. I presume you are returning to Ganz with all speed?”

“Possibly, where is the Stealth bound for?” Zorroc replied, ignoring the request

for their position.

“We proceed to the knowledge planet to pick up my only remaining nephew, and

then to Nefar. The King and Queen will need their only living son to console them in
their time of grief.”

“I was not aware that Dakar traveled on the Portender, are you certain he was

aboard?” Zorroc asked, innocently.

Kindarak stuttered into silence, obviously contemplating a reply. Finally he

murmured, “I just assumed, I guess I heard it from somewhere. Perhaps I am mistaken.”

“My mate is trying to get my attention, please allow a moment for us to confer.”

Zorroc pressed the privacy switch and turned to Sherem. “Will you stop bothering me? I
am trying to concentrate. You are worse than a mother hen. Drake, do we have a lock on
their co-ordinates yet?”

“Yes,” he replied over Sherem’s persistent demands, “and they are doing their

best to divine ours, but I have routed us into cyber space.” He grinned.

“Wh—“ Zorroc began.
“We cannot allow him to lure my brother onto his ship, he already believes he has

killed Dakar and me; what if my brother is next. We have to warn him, we must beat the
Stealth. No, I will just trans onto his ship and kill him now.”

“Stop,” Zorroc ordered before Sherem could leave the bridge. “We will take care

of Kindarak long before he can get your brother. Let me think.”

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A smile lit Zorroc’s eyes. “We need to register our sons for education on the

knowledge planet. You know what a waiting line there is for the classes, especially the
ones we have in mind…” Catarina paused, her mouth quirking into a half smile.

Zorroc’s gaze met hers and he chuckled despite their situation. “Kindarak, please

forgive the interruption. My mate insists we proceed to the knowledge planet with all
speed and pick up Rand ourselves.”

“No—“ Kindarak began only to be cut off by Zorroc’s monologue.
“Catarina and I became very close to Mia and Royce with the Dargon invasion

and have stayed in touch since. As a matter of fact Rand has taken a particular liking to
the triplets and they adore him,” Zorroc continued to lie blithely. He was on a roll. “Yes,
the more I think of it, the more I am convinced that the boys would cheer and comfort
Rand as nothing else could.”

“But—“
“No, no, don’t thank us; Cat will mother him to death before he reaches Nefar and

the kids are already hopping for joy at the thought of seeing their Uncle Rand. So if there
is nothing else…”

“There is,” Kindarak shouted, frustration evident in the staccato reply. “What

about Nadia, aren’t you worried about her whereabouts? Your first duty must be to her.
I’m very concerned she was on the Portender, she might be floating in a survival POD
this very moment. You must stay and search while I go for my nephew.”

“I’m sure my sister is fine, I would feel it in my heart if she were not.” Zorroc

paused and turned to his navigation expert whose shoulders were heaving in hopeless
mirth while he nodded his affirmation.

“Well, have to run, see you around the galaxy, Kindarak. Miramid out.”

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Chapter Twenty-One

“I will cinder them all and stomp on their ashes. They are already dead, do you

hear me? Where are they, Smead? They blabbered long enough for a first cycle cadet to
pinpoint their location. Well?” Kindarak turned and bored a seething glare on his first in
command.

He was still pressing typing furiously on the console, checking read-outs then

beginning the process again. “They were changing their position every few seconds,
Your Eminence, I am still tracking.”

“They were employing diversionary tactics? Why? What possible reason could

they have unless,” Kindarak paused and considered alternative scenarios. They somehow
suspected his hand in the destruction of the Portender. They didn’t buy his story of how
he came to the Portender’s defense. Nadia is a stronger telepath than Zorroc suggested
and the entire conversation was a ruse to determine his location and rescue his sister.

Fissions of fear skittered up his spine, dotting his forehead and increasing his

respiration. He must calm himself and regain his control. Did his crew watch him
nervously contemplating his sanity? He was invincible, a God. He feared no male but all
that crossed his path shuddered in their boots. He sat on his throne unwilling to admit,
even to himself, that his knees were shaking. What if Sherem had survived? His body
erupted in one violent quake. He couldn’t be alive. He watched the Portender detonate,
saw the debris. He grabbed the hair on either side of his forehead and pulled.

But wait. What if he was being paranoid? The drugs might be altering his

perceptions. Maybe Smead miscalculated and couldn’t pinpoint them because of his
incompetence…Yes, that could be it. Or maybe it was standard procedure and wired into
their guidance system to cloak their whereabouts—even more plausible and a tactic he
should have implemented long ago.

Even so…

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“Smead, maximum warp to Knowledge Planet,” he ordered shakily, then shouted,

“now!“

“Did you get everything?” Zorroc asked his navigation officer, Zanan.
“We have him pinpointed and locked, the only way he can evade us is if he

galaxy jumps,” Drake, the Portender’s new navigation officer interjected. Sherem had
brought him over to assist and further his knowledge by working with the navigation
experts on the Miramid. “I also took the opportunity to scan their ship and I recall the
exact model from the academy.” Red crept up his throat and cheeks. He hated admitting
his lack of field experience but he had a photographic memory and never forgot a ships
layout. He cleared his throat and continued. “It might be a challenge locating the dead-
cell they have Princess Nadia in though, they have sets of five on three decks. That is so
prisoners can’t band together and mutiny,” he informed the group, helpfully and then
blushed again at his enthusiasm.

Zorroc nodded sagely, hiding a grin, looked at Sherem who was also fighting to

maintain his composure and asked, “Anything else, Officer Drake?”

“The bridge is located on deck three,” he stated.
Sherem started. Most bridges were located on an upper deck for the purposes of

visibility and he recalled that when Kindarak had shown them his ship, he made a point
of showcasing his state-of-the-art bridge on the top level – level six. “I was on that ship,
Drake, and the bridge was on level six.”

“Bogus, sir.”
“Excuse me?” Sherem said.
“Bogus,” Cat repeated happily. “Fake, counterfeit, spurious, artificial—“
“I think he understands, Cat, thank you,” Zorroc politely tendered.
Sherem blinked and then shook his head. “Anything further,” he asked with

trepidation.

“Only one other thing at the moment, sir.” He cleared his throat. “I think I might

be able to trans someone onto that ship.” The occupants of the room froze.

“Explain,” Sherem barked.
“I have a photographic memory, sir, and was particularly impressed with the this

version of starship. I think I could tell a trans-tech where to phase someone in, then he
could direct others.”

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“Officer Drake, I can appreciate your talents, but if you miscalculate, you could

trans someone into a steel wall,” Zorroc stated, not unkindly.

“Well, a large chamber would increase our odds,” the Officer admitted.
“That well may have a lot of furniture in it. We would have the same problem.”

Everyone in the room knew the physics of two objects of matter not residing in the same
space simultaneously.

“Wait a minute,” Sherem exclaimed. “I remember some of those rooms and a

couple of the grand halls were extremely sparsely furnished. If I could describe them in
detail, could you take it from there?”

Drake smiled confidently. “Right on, sir.”
“Uh…”
“Absolutely, positively, unequivocally—”
“They mean yes, Sherem,” Zorroc translated wryly.
An alarm on the console sounded. “She’s moving, sir, and fast. Full out

interstellar warp,” Zanan, warned, speaking for the first time.

Sherem punched a key on the panel. “Dakar, make ready to depart.” It had been

a wise decision to give his brother the command of the Portender and hoped it would set
one more link toward mending their former rift.

“Follow Stealth but be sure to avoid detection,” Zorroc ordered Zanan quietly.
“Took him long enough to figure out we were on to him,” Sherem added.
“Let’s not make the mistake of underestimating him again. If he is everything

you think he is, he didn’t get there by playing fair. This could well be a ruse to flush us
out,” Zorroc stated.

“Then let’s not get caught, Mr.-my-ship-is-better-than-your-ship,” Sherem

replied.

Cat rolled her eyes but covertly studied Sherem’s navigation officer. How had he

come across earth slang? She subtly sidled toward him, moving slowly until she was
standing beside the young, virile Nefari.

“Be very careful, my one,” her lifemate warned. Cat looked sideways to glimpse

jealousy filling his amber eyes.

“Sheesh, I just want to ask him a question. Get that look off your face or he’ll run

screaming from the room…we’re going to need his expertise soon,” she mind-spoke the

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last part as an extra incentive. He leaned against the closest wall, crossed his arms across
his chest, and did the leopard studying his prey thing. “Cat men,” Cat telepathed.

“Earth females,” he thought back.
Cat licked her lips and took one last look at her mate’s now dilated heavy-lidded

eyes before speaking. “Uh, hi Drake. I couldn’t help notice your use of earth slang,
unless ‘bogus’ is a Nefari word.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Actually I am mated to an Earth female. I

think you may know her, she certainly remembers you, though I believe half the stories
she tells are fabricated to entertain me.”

I wouldn’t count on it, Cat thought. “What is her name?”
His eyes twinkled with humor and unmistakable arousal and Cat moved to block

his view from Zorroc. “She is called Ava and on the original female transport.”

“I remember her well and wondered what became of her.” Cat did remember her;

she was a delightful charmer who enjoyed sampling the variety of available Gattonian
crew. Cat was surprised she decided to settle down. As if he read her mind he supplied.
“She told me Gattonian males were too civilized; she preferred the earthiness of the
Nefari.” And then added fiercely, “She does not stray.”

“I would not believe otherwise. Please ask her to COM, I would very much like

to stay in touch.”

“As you wish but I would advise, if you do not want to see Ava a widow anytime

soon, you return to your mate.” Though he smiled warmly, the warning was clear.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she mind-spoke as she turned toward Zorroc. When

he growled audibly she realized her poor choice of words and grinned impishly.

He pressed her into an observation seat and belted her in. “Remain seated and

belted until I give you my permission.”

“The children—” Cat began.
“Are fine, I messaged Camille to secure them and you know accelerating to warp

speed is their favorite activity.”

Cat did know, sometimes Zorroc gave the order for warp acceleration solely to

amuse the triplets. She studied Zorroc as he belted himself into the commander’s chair,
offering Sherem the one beside him. Her gaze traced his broad shoulders and long silken
mane as she contemplated his foray into fatherhood. He had taken to it naturally and
with undeniable zest, like a cat to fresh cream.

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“Only yours, my cream,” he mind-spoke using his pet name for her.
“In coming from the Stealth, sir…er sirs, or at least from within her. It is on a

little used band.”

“Put it on vidscreen,” Zorroc ordered motioning Sherem to the side to avoid

detection.

“I can’t, sir; it’s strictly audio and the band is all but obsolete. I am making some

adjustments. Here it is.”

“Zorroc of the House of Ra, Leader of Gattonia, this is Prince Ryder of Kerr. I

bring you greetings.”

“What are you doing on the Stealth? And speak up I can hardly hear you which

begs the question of the antiquated voice band.”

“I have but seconds before detection. I wish to ensure the safe return of your

sister. I have obtained a key to her cell and coordinates to allow a successful trans for
you and your warriors. In return I wish safe harbor for me and my crew back to Ganz.
Once safely on board I will answer all of your questions concerning my presence on the
Stealth and any others to care to ask.”

“Why would you do this, friend of Kindarak?”
“I repay a dept to Sherem though he has passed to the next realm. And I wish

safety for his mate so that in future she may look upon me favorably.”

Zorroc hushed Sherem’s growl with a slash of his arm. “When do we board?”
“0600 hours. I have arranged to visit her with the ruse of bringing supplies for

her comfort. I must go; coordinates to follow.”

After a series of numbers, the connection went dead. “What do you make of

that?” Zorroc asked Sherem.

“I helped him two cycles past; a small matter of gambling in the wrong circles.

Ryder is young and rash and cannot seem to keep himself free from trouble. Somehow it
does not surprise me to find him on Kindarak’s ship. He attracts folly like a girl collects
flowers.”

“Then you think we can trust him?”
Sherem went still in contemplation then slowly nodded his head. “If he is in

trouble, and I am sure he is, then we must step in regardless of his assistance to my mate.
He is reckless to a fault but not dishonorable.”

* * *

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183

“What in blazers is happening?” Nadia shot into Zorroc’s mind.
“Are you well? Sherem is about to have a coronary. When you first broke

contact with me, it rattled fifty cycles off his obnoxious existence. He is now entirely grey
and walks stooped over; a very sad circumstance.”

“Why do I doubt you, Rocky, he seemed fine when we spoke earlier through Bran.

I am merely his latest possession,” Nadia messaged somewhat wearily. “What are you
doing to free me from this psychotic loon?”

“You were able to speak though the beast?” Zorroc asked incredulously. “I have

never heard of such.”

“Learn something new every dayrise. Now what is happening?”
“The Stealth is heading toward the Knowledge Planet to pick up Rand. We are

unsure of his intentions, whether he plans to kill him or ransom him back to his parents
since Kindarak believes he is the sole remaining heir to the throne of Nefar. Moreover, if
he is behind the production and distribution of Angels Gate, Nefar’s control of Assyllis
distribution may play an intrinsic part.”

“He desires not to kill his son, Zorroc, merely control him,” Nadia informed her

brother earnestly.

“What are you saying, Nadia? I must have misunderstood.”
“I’m afraid you heard correctly. Sonny told me that Rand is Kindarak’s natural

son and plans to use him to take over Nefar. Apparently the Queen and Kindarak had an
affair resulting in Rand.”

“Are you sure Sonny has his facts in order? He is a child, Nadia, little more than

a babe from what you have disclosed.”

“He is a very canny spy who has alluded Kindarak and others sent to catch him

for a cycle or more. I do not believe he got it wrong and if you stop to think, it explains a
great deal.”

“Hells kitchen, Dizzy, what do I tell your mate? That his mother is an adulterer

and that it is most likely his father and not Rand who is marked for death if not his
mother as well? He will kill me before I take my next breath.”

“That is your challenge,” Nadia declared lightly. “I am just the messenger. Why

did he launch into warp if he spoke to you of his plans? It seems rather silly, to say
nothing of knocking me across my cell.”

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“I believe he may want to beat us there or possibly he doubts the Portender’s

destruction. But whatever he suspects, it does not bode well for you.” Zorroc didn’t add
that Nadia could be in immediate danger as he had her ensconced on his ship and could
take his frustrations out on her at any time. “Nadia, listen baby, we’re going to trans
over early tomorrow morning and get you out of there. Rescuing you is our first priority
before any other actions are implemented.”

“I have done some thinking, Rocky and know it would be too risky. You don’t

have the co-ordinates to accomplish it safely.” Nadia sounded resigned. “The only
option you have is to take on the Stealth and hope I survive the attack.”

“Wrong, little warrior, I come for you myself in a matter of hours. Can you

ensure that the child will be with you?” Bran’s voice overpowered her brother’s.

“No, but we have a system where I can reach him; a coded tap on the oxygen

vent. It is comforting to know you have everything in hand.” A whisper of humor and
hope entering her response. Nadia walked over to the grate and pretended to kick at the
grate in case she was being observed though the imposed darkness hid most of her
movements.

“I will let you know when he appears,” she mind-spoke to Bran.
“I will know. Soon Princess, soon we will be there to protect you.”
“Nadia, can you hear me?” Zorroc’s tone was one of near panic.
“I’m here, Rocky. Bran had a message for me. You are coordinating with our

northern barbarians, yes?

Zorroc noticed her restored spirits instantly and hoped the hairy beast had a better

plan than they did. “You never know when a northern barbarian might come in handy.
And Prince Ryder is also in the mix. You will be on the Miramid for breakfast, Dizzy.
And we do have the trans coordinates; apparently you have a friend in Prince Ryder.
Keep safe and let me know if Kindarak bothers you in any way. We may be able to trans
over sooner if necessary.”

“Nadia.” A small voice whispered from the direction of the grate.
“Sonny sweetheart, come here. I need to tell you a secret.”
Sonny crept through the grate and settled on Nadia’s lap. “I am going to whisper,

just in case someone is listening. She bowed over the child, taking in his little boy scent
and trepidation. He was not accustomed to trusting adults and why should he? Nadia
strived for the right words to reach him. “Sonny, in the morning good and safe people

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are coming to save us. There is even a big shaggy dog that cannot wait to lick your face
among the party. It is very important that you spend the night on the other side of the
grate. If you have anything you would like to take with you, you must gather it and keep
them in easy reach. Do you understand?”

Sonny squirmed on her lap, clearly distressed. Nadia waited patiently to hear his

thoughts.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go with you. These are your people, they might not want

me.”

“Oh Sonny, of course they will want you. But most important, I want you. You

will live with me and Sherem in a great castle and have anything you want to eat. And
you will be my own precious little boy. Would you like that? We won’t live on a ship
but a wonderful land full of mountains and streams where you can play.”

Sonny’s brow furrowed and he grew unusually still. “What if I’m not good?”
“Sherem and I will love you whether you are good or not. Little boys are not

supposed to be good all the time.”

“Well, what if someone decides to buy me?”
Nadia’s heart almost broke with his words. How could she reassure him? “You

forget that your sire is the greatest warrior on the galaxy and if someone tried to take you
from us, he will beat them to a pulp. You will be our greatest treasure, sweetheart. I
promise.”

“But what if he doesn’t like me?” he whispered.
“Sonny, you are the smartest, bravest, most cunning boy I have ever met; he will

adore you every bit as much as I do.”

“Kindarak promised to take me to my daddy.”
“Oh baby, if your daddy can be found you will have the choice of going with him

or staying with us. I just want you to be happy. Cook will take great pleasure in
fattening you up and there will be many children your own age to play with.

“Sonny, please promise me you’ll come. I couldn’t bear to leave you behind.

You saved me, Sonny, please allow me to save you.”

Sonny looked hard into her eyes and Nadia held her breath waiting for his verdict.

Finally he nodded his head decisively. “I will go. You might need me to save you
again.”

“You are so right,” Nadia earnestly replied. Out of the mouths of babes…

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In the next second Sonny was scrambling through the grate and before she could

even form the question of why, her panel opened revealing her odious host. Nadia
simply groaned. “Ah my dear, awake and alert I see. The need to keep you from
harming yourself is past. As a matter of fact, chef has prepared a marvelous meal for this
evening. We have much to celebrate, you and I.”

“Maybe you but certainly not I.”
“Come, come, no use pouting over spilt blood. You should be thanking me; I let

your brother and his family live…for the moment. And depending on your good
behavior that will continue.”

“My brother can take care of himself or did you miss what he did to the Dargons?

And excuse me for pointing out the obvious but little ‘ol you are but a fly speck on his
horizon.” For a moment Nadia thought he would strike her but appeared to get a hold of
himself and smiled instead—a creepy, lecherous, demented smile.

“Ah, my beautiful one. Better beauty than brains,” he murmured as males began

to appear carting table and chairs, tablecloth and candelabras, crystal goblets, plates, and
finally tray after tray of food and drink. “I had hoped to dine in my chambers but I see
you need a few more days here. By the way Prince Ryder will be paying a visit with a
few comforts to make your stay in this hole a little more bearable. He seeks your hand,
you know—wants to control all of that glorious Assyllis, but I have decided to keep you
for myself, at least until you begin to bore me.

“Now what is you pleasure, jive or choc-tea wine?”
Nadia had two choices, she figured, play along and try to learn more of his plans

or take the food, liquor, and candelabras and dump them on his head. As attractive as the
later was, she chose the former.

“Whatever you are having, thank you,” she answered politely, thinking the

probability for drugging diminished.

“This jive is excellent. I am sure you will find it to your liking.” He poured first

hers and then his own and Nadia relaxed a bit. “Aren’t you the least bit curious as to why
we are celebrating?”

“I am sure you will enlighten me in your own time,” she demurred.
“How right you are, my beautiful treasure. We proceed to the knowledge planet

to collect my son. Base born, I’m afraid but I intend to remedy that by mating with his
mother. It would be highly improper for a bastard to eventually rule Nefar.”

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Nadia held her breath. How much to reveal? “I believe Nefar has a king and

queen,” she ventured quietly.

“Oh, not for long. I am afraid the king will waste away with the deaths of his

sons which will leave me free to marry the queen, Rand’s mother…and my son. And if
you are very, very good, my pet, I will mate with you, as well. Nefari law allows this,
you see. And as long as your brother does not interfere with his current Assyllis
agreement, we will all be just one big happy family. What do you think? I shall be the
King of Nefar until my son inherits the throne. It is brilliant, don’t you agree?”

“I think you are certifiable and if you live long enough will end up in a shelter for

the insane.”

Kindarak’s eyes glinted, his features froze, and Nadia could see his jaw clench.

She prayed she’d not gone too far in provoking him but her mouth ran away from her
before she could think to leash it.

“Of course my alternate plan is to keep you as my whore, massacre your family

and rule Gattonia along with Nefar. I leave the choice to you.” He waited for her to
comment and when she did not, smiled upon her and nodded his head. “Just so. You
learn quickly, my Amber jewel. How is your Chanuk? It comes from my home planet of
Myveria and is very rare.”

She wondered at the pieces of meat smothered in sauce. Though a bit gamey, she

found it editable and instead of answering, she asked a question of her own. “I assume
you are behind the new drug called Angels Gate?”

He exclaimed delightedly at her acumen. “Amber, you are full of surprises and

absolutely correct. The actual process was discovered by the Horta but Nefar’s
Procurement Minister knew Sherem would never allow its distribution and so he
contacted me. All was running flawlessly until your meddlesome barbarian met with that
soon to be eliminated, old as dirt queen, and compared notes. Everything will soon be
put to rights, however—a rather lethal dose of the drug will find its way into the queen’s
sweets soon. She really is too fat to be imbibing such rich delicacies. I fear it will finally
be the death of her.”

Nadia planned to contact Bran as soon as she had privacy and warn him of the

danger to the Jasperi queen. Nadia had thoroughly enjoyed her time with the irascible
character and intended to enjoy many more. “You really are a poster boy for death and
destruction. Your mother must be so proud.”

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Kindarak’s smile fell off his face. “My mother, if you can call her that, betrayed

me! Had me kicked out of my home and even off the planet and for what—a little
harmless sport. I didn’t kill anyone worthwhile; just some homeless squatters and a few
peasants. I even gave them a head start…”

He mumbled the last and Nadia felt dirty being in the same room with him. So

repelled she almost missed his next comment. “A royal house?” she exclaimed stupidly.

“Yes, I was the third in line for the throne and they dared banish me. Well I will

show them. After I achieve my goals for Nefar and Gattonia, I will annihilate Myveria—
after I make them beg for mercy.” His eyes mirrored his soul at that moment; evil,
madness and death swam in their depths. Nadia counted the moments until he took his
leave.

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Chapter Twenty-Two

Nadia wished she could soak for a week to wash the stench of Kindarak’s

madness off her. Holding Sonny too tight, she contacted Bran and let him scan her entire
conversation with her host. She felt his own repugnant reaction to her thoughts but felt it
necessary to make him understand all they were up against.

Sherem rubbed his gritty eyes, pacing his chamber like a caged animal and

checked the time once again. He had bee up most of the night on his PODs COM
warning first Jasper’s queen Headi, then Rand, and finally his parents. Now he gathered
his sword and an assortment of other weapons and headed to the Miramid. Finally, the
time for action had arrived. In a matter of hours Nadia would be safe in his arms. He
was unsure if he would ever be able to let her go again. He stalked to the Miramid, Bran
at his side. I hope all goes as planned but the back of my neck is tingling; not a good
sign. How about you?”

“I am unsure. My powers seem to be evolving so clear judgment is difficult.”
Before Sherem could inquire further, they had arrived, greeted by Zorroc and his

team of five and the Portender’s group of six. Forty more stood if needed. “Thank you,”
Sherem grunted when Zorroc handed him a long thick chain with a disc attached.

When Sherem looked at him questioningly, Zorroc answered. “Put this on your

shaggy friend. It is a tracking device and monitors vital signs; if he is wounded we can
transport him immediately to our Med center.” When Bran gave him a condescending
look Zorroc added. “It is only a precaution; all who trans over wear one. Anything could
happen, we go against a vast well-trained army that I am sure will not relinquish my
sister easily. Nadia informed me of Kindarak’s plans; I will not leave without her this
morning. He is obviously delusional and must be neutralized.”

“At last, we agree on something,” Sherem said. “Bran, all stealth, if you pardon

the pun. You are to be our secret weapon, you mentioned expanded powers…”

“Yes, I have been practicing mass altering or shape shifting, if you will.”

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“Well, I hope your growing powers of shape shifting are on a par with your body.

I’ll bet you have grown a head taller and gained a hundred pounds. Exactly how big do
you get?”

“I suppose we’ll know the answer to that when I stop growing,” he answered

logically. “We will retrieve them, not to worry. The little one awaits with your mate and
must be taken, as well. I will do what is necessary, you, watch your back.”

“That is what brothers are for,” Sherem answered and turned to his normally

carefree brother who looked every bit the Nefari warrior.

They arrived at the trans station and all was prepared except for the sheer mass of

the ankou. It was decided after the calculations were adjusted that Bran would transport
initially followed by the rest of the party. Bran fell into a black void then felt his body
materialize. He opened his eyes to reveal the scrawniest, tiniest human he’d ever seen
staring quizzically at him with no sign of fear or even caution.

“You’re the biggest dog I ever saw, can I ride you?”
Bran did not understand the question but a clear vision entered his mind as to the

child’s inquiry. He shook his head and thought that when he had them safely away he’d
let the human flee climb up and trot him down the hallways of the Miramid to the
Portender.

“How long do you think it will take until then?” he asked, and Bran realized

something impossible to comprehend.

“Can you hear my voice inside your head?” Bran asked.
“Uh-huh. I know Nadi talks to her brother and you that way all the time. Are you

here to rescue us?”

Afraid the miniature being would be trampled when the rest of the party arrived;

he grabbed him carefully with his mouth and hooked him onto his back. The team
surrounded them, their gazes running from shock to amusement at the sight of Sonny
ensconced on Bran’s neck.

Sherem spotted a furtive Ryder moving toward them with two others carrying a

load of furnishings which they dropped to approach the warriors now guarding the
hallway.

“Let’s get her and depart.” No sooner did he utter the words than armed soldiers

poured into the corridor from the other cells including Nadia’s—with Nadia nowhere in
sight.

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“What is this, Ryder, a trick?” Sherem demanded under his breath.
“No, I swear it, we are surrounded. You do not know him, he will kill us all.”
Zorroc chuckled. “Do not worry, they cannot win against us. Reinforcements

will surround Kindarak’s troops. Be ready for anything.”

“How will they avoid the laws of physics? If they try to trans here we all will

die.”

“We have the plans to this vessel; they will enter on level seven and make their

way here. In addition, Ryder, have you never seen a Nefari warrior in action? If not you
are in for a treat.” Zorroc could hear Ryder’s relief.

Kindarak strutted through his crew until he caught sight of the Nefari forces. His

smile faltered along with his confidence. They were dead, he had killed them. Were
these warriors from the Miramid posing as the lethal warriors? He could see they were
not; for their was no mistaking the team of Gattonians in the mix with Ryder’s forces.
Unable to suppress a shudder he faced the biggest warrior coated in Kameri. Maybe if he
destroyed him, the rest would flee. Even as the thought formed it knew it for a lie.
Nefari warriors were purported to be indomitable which is why he had decided to destroy
their ship when their defenses were down. He had wanted to avoid a face to face
confrontation with these alien-like monsters. The leather covering their eyes and faces,
he found particularly chilling. He had known what to expect, had studied the holos, but
nothing could prepare one for an actual sighting. They were huge in height and bulk and
all held the swords that made their reputation even more chilling. They all looked alike
and worse—inhuman and invincible. Still, they were surrounded and he controlled that
which they most wanted…plus a surprise that would keep them under his control. Yes,
he would make them bow to him. The Supreme Leader. “You are dead,” he stated
confidently, though a trickle of sweat separated from his hairline and ran down his temple
to his jaw. “This is a trick—who are you and what do you want?”

“Why uncle, I think the answer would be obvious. I want my mate; where is

she?”

“No, it can’t be—I killed you, I killed you all.”
“Sorry to disappoint, Uncle, but you missed. May I inquire as to the location of

my mate? As usual she is not where she belongs.”

“Lay down your arms and surrender and I might oblige you,” Kindarak answered.
“Find Nadia,” Sherem mind-spoke to Bran before answering his “Uncle”.

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“I take the child,” Bran replied, “and will check her former cell to make sure she

was moved and not hidden somehow.” Sherem could find no trace of either, was he
cloaking the urchin, as well? The hint of a grin touched his mind.

“Sorry Kindarak, but your luck has run out along with your life and that of your

crew. You now have two star ships surrounding the Stealth. The only hope that remains
is for you to release Princess Nadia, and pray we allow you to go on your way.”

“Are there surveillance monitors in this room?” Bran asked the child when he

slid into Nadia’s cell. The little-bit sat up and said, “I fixed them to go static. Are you
looking for Nadia? They took her away a little while ago but I know all their hiding
places. Want me to take you to Nadi now?”

“In a moment.” Bran paused, wondering how to explain his powers without

frightening the child. He gently probed his mind, an intrusion he would ordinarily never
contemplate but everything changed at his first sniff of the boy.

“Did Nadia tell you that I’m a magic dog? And did you know that we are

invisible right now?”

Sonny shook his head and his eyes grew round. “Wizard watootie!”
“Shh, speak softly now and when we leave not at all. Instead put pictures in your

mind of where we might find Nadia. Can you do that?” Bran felt his uncertainty and let
him think everything through. He was an amazingly intelligent being for one so young.

“All right, but how can we get past all these soldiers? You’re too big to go

through the tunnels, like me.”

“Not to worry, we will rise above them and then fly—but you must remain

absolutely still and silent. Nadi’s life depends on it. And we must save her.”

“I understand. It is why I decided to go with her; so I could save her if she needed

it. She seems to get into an awful lot of trouble,” Sonny whispered in all earnest.

Bran mind-spoke an assent into Sonny’s mind, striving to curtail his own

amusement. He and Sonny floated into a jetquik just as blazer beams fired behind them.
The small transport held the strong scent of Nadia and propelled them to the third floor
on Rees’s command. The plans of the Stealth as described by Drake had the working
bridge on this level. Bran once again cloaked them; uncomfortable with the level of
activity they were likely to encounter and possible warriors guarding Nadia.

“Bran, what in the hell is going on?” Sherem blasted into his mind. Since the

answer toppled Sherem’s current understanding, Bran decided to prevaricate.

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“Glad you are still in one piece, as well. We are on the third floor and I am

following Nadia’s scent. She is not conscious and I fear there will be ample humans
guarding her. When I am certain I will let you know. We may need back-up to get the
child and your mate to safety.”

“Why so much concern for a homeless urchin and why is Kindarak alluding to a

secret that will have me relinquishing my arms and the arms of my warriors, and most
probably my life? Could he already have Rand on board?”

“Possible but doubtful. I believe the secret lies with the child; Sonny must be

protected as vigilantly as Nadia, I fear.”

“What are you talking about?”
“We have arrived,” Bran stated, ignoring Sherem’s last question. The answers

would be forthcoming when all were safe and the Stealth destroyed. “Her panel is being
guarded by a force of ten and more close at hand.”

“I will send a dozen...plus one to collect this “special child” and deliver it into the

arms of Catarina. Will that suffice?”

“Nicely, and the sooner the better. Nadia is awakening.”
“Bran, what other things can you do?,” Sonny asked using mind-speak, impatient

with the waiting.

“All sorts of things. For instance, I know that they call you not just Sonny, but the

Sun of Nefar. Is that not correct?”

Sonny looked down and mumbled, “Sometimes, but mostly just Sonny, if they

recall me at all. I stay hidden especially from the mean one.”

Bran was positive they never forgot him and could locate him with little trouble if

they so chose. They simply wanted him to believe he could hide. A bad feeling
blossomed and spread through Bran which meant retrieving Nadia and getting the three
of them to safety with all speed. Because he was certain that the acquired name given
Sonny by Kindarak was actually a poorly crafted synonym for “Son of Nefar”. Further,
he suspected Sherem’s natural child, perhaps the next ruler of Nefar—most likely carried
a detection device somewhere under his skin.

Twelve Nefari troops appeared around them and Bran materialized. One plucked

Sonny gingerly from Bran’s back and disappeared just as quickly.

A mental grunt butted Bran’s mind which signaled action underway below and in

the next moment, he and the Nefari troops engaged in battle.

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After Bran ate his way through the first row of Stealth’s crew, the remaining

fighting force noticeable dwindled; some taking down their own comrades in the effort to
avoid him. At that moment the guards within Nadia’s chamber tumbled into the melee
leaving him the opportunity to get in.

Nadia, with eyes slitted, mind spoke, “Can’t move.” He had scant seconds to

trans her to the Miramid but with her body frozen and lethargic, she could not climb on to
him and he had no way to signal her exact location to get her out. More likely they
would trans him leaving her behind. She could not even grasp the band around his neck
which left him no choice but one. He concentrated all his powers, letting his mind float
and body shift. While he had played with the urge for some time, he’d never successfully
accomplished the change. Now he must, in order to carry Nadia and press the disc
hanging from the chain around his neck to get them both to safety.

It happened quickly with little discomfort just when two of the enemy charged in,

blazers first. Bran grabbed Nadia, and activated the disc but Kindarak materialized at the
last possible moment. “Leaving us so soon? I’m afraid I can’t allow it.” He pointed a
large silver weapon and fired three times into the now visibly human Bran. They
disappeared over roars of frustration from Nadia’s former host.

“Nadia is safe aboard the Miramid. I regret I am unable to rejoin you.” Bran’s

words almost made Sherem sag and lower his sword even as he worried over his last
words, but a laser beam missing his temple by a fraction called back his attention.

“No matter, I give the word to retreat. We will come in waves to both the ports of

Miramid and Portender and take the Kerrs with us.” Screams ignited behind Sherem and
the flow of battle changed to chaos. Sherem strived to keep his mind on the three well
trained enemy warriors in front of him. Kindarak had melted into the background and
probably hid in a safe room, shivering under a mat.

The cruelest bullies also proved to be the biggest cowards. One of the divine

oxymorons of the universe.

* * *

On the navigation level of the Miramid, a Kalmeri-skinned warrior shimmered

into view holding a small boy and shoved him into Catarina’s arms without a by your
leave before disappearing once again. Used to the offhand behavior of what she silently
called her cat people, she caught the child in her arms and gently let him down, taking
hold of his hand. “My name is Catarina, but my friends call me Cat,” she explained

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walking hand in hand with the dirty, emaciated boy. “I hope we’ll become great friends
because anyone who helps my sister has my eternal gratitude. Come sweetie, let’s get
you fed, uh…bathed, and into a nice soft mat.” Cat drew him away reluctantly, neither of
the pair particularly wanting to desert the bridge. Nadia could feel the tiny boy’s hand
shake as she pressed him into a jetquik to the children’s chambers. And even as he
sullenly whispered his name, she couldn’t help but notice his undue attention to every
grate they passed comprising Miramids’ ventilation system. He simply broke her heart.

“The boys are down for a nap, so I’ll introduce you later. Be grateful for the calm

before the calamity that is sure to erupt as soon as they awaken. They will be very exited
to meet you; it gets lonely being the only children on board.”

“Ch-children?” Sonny asked; a startled expression half curiosity and half terror

chasing across his small face.

“Uh-huh, have you ever had children your same age to play with? Of course,

you’re probably two or three years older than they are. I bet they’re gonna worship the
ground you walk on.”

“Why would they like me? I don’t think I know how to play…and what are

years?”

“Oh, sorry.” Cat smacked her forehead. “I still tend to lapse into Earth-speak.

Years are closely equivalent to cycles. How many cycles are you?”

“You come from the Milky Way?” Sonny asked. And Cat realized he deflected

almost every question she asked. He was one cagey little scrapper—probably for good
reason.

Instead of calling him on it, she played along. “Yep, and did you know that we

even have a candy bar named after it.?”

“Candy?”
In two shakes flat she was going to bawl like a baby. He had never heard of

candy? Oh, the calories she intended to introduce him to, she concluded, reaching the
nursery.

One hour later a stuffed, scrubbed, and sleeping little boy lay nestled in his own

cozy mat. Cat was very pleased, believing she’d packed at least two pounds on his small
frame. Once she had him bathed he had the distinct look of a Nefar about him; as a
matter of fact he looked a lot like Sherem…

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Toppling over that thought she realized she’d not heard from Zorroc and the rest

of their party and broke into a run. “Stop,” her mate shouted. “We are safe. Nadia is
asking after the little mite. He is well?”

“He is sleeping and stuffed. How is Nadia?”
“She is with the shaggy beast but The Nefari and I have words to cross.” Whoa,

Sherem hadn’t been “the Nefari” for quite some time.

* * *

The Med center turned into a sudden mass of running feet, staccato orders, and

multiple hands as a couple of Med-techs took a partially naked Nadia from a totally
naked Bran in half human, half ankou form and strived to hoist him onto a wide gurney.
Four MTEs studied him in consternation. They seemed frozen between how to treat his
wounds and whether they dared touch him at all. Nadia donned a robe and wobbled over
to her friend seeking to communicate with him. “Bran, how badly are you hurt?” she
croaked.

“Get them out, they burn. I believe they are eating me from the inside out,” came

his tortured reply.

Nadia turned to the frozen staff and said, “He has three missiles in him, they must

be removed immediately.”

“We are not equipped with the anatomical knowledge to operate and he will not

fit into the Med tech unit, what do you suggest we do?” one of the Technicians asked.

“Yes,” another agreed, “And be reasonable, Princess, he is a wounded animal, he

may attack if we try to assist him.”

“He will not attack, you baboons; he is my friend and rescued both me and Sonny

with no thought to himself. You will operate now!”

The group just looked down and shook their heads sadly. At that moment, she

was ashamed to be Gattonian. She went to the wall, grabbed a blazer, and pointed it at
the group. “You will save him or die; and as your Princess I have the right to take your
life for refusing a direct order. Now move it.” Nadia knew she would never harm them
but they, fortunately, did not.

They brought a unit over that descended from the ceiling and ran it over his body.

* * *

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Cat knew that Zorroc had taken Sherem to their private chambers for a chat but

somehow, with all the turmoil, uncertainty, and confrontation with Kindarak, she didn’t
think it was the appropriate time for a few drinks and exchange of pleasantries.

The panel to their master suite slid silently open just as both males stood, Zorroc

with his hands out in a placating manner and Sherem charging him shouting, “You lying
bastard” and planting an upper cut to her mate’s jaw that sent him crashing into the wall
four feet from where he stood. Cat didn’t think, she just stormed the giant, screaming for
him to stop and flew into the air landing on his shoulders, pounding on his head. Sherem
started spinning around grunting, “Get her off me”.

Cat caught a glimpse of her mate climbing to his feet, testing his jaw, with an

amused almost jovial expression carved on his features.

“She’s killing me, Zorroc, make her stop,” Sherem pleaded.
“Will you settle down and let me explain?” Zorroc queried, grinning widely,

sitting back down and leaning back in his seat.

“Anything,” he replied, covering his face to block her tiny fists popping him.
“I think he’s had enough, my one, he surrenders.”

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Chapter Twenty-Three

Cat stopped and looked up. “What is so funny, he punched you—hard.”
“He thought I was insulting his mother; I would have reacted the same were I in

his shoes. Now let the defeated warrior loose.”

Cat looked down. The Nefari had to top her mate by four inches, which meant

she was about seven feet off the ground. She couldn’t even imagine how she’d made
such a miraculous jump and she didn’t particularly like heights. They made her dizzy.

Zorroc appeared by her side and she slid into his arms, her favorite place to be in

the universe. “What’s going on?” she asked, the last word ending in a squeak as he
slowly slid her body down his until she reached the ground. Sherem looked on, a
bemused smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Sherem watched the couple and marveled at their openly loving devotion to one

another. He realized that that was exactly what he wanted—needed from Nadia. He had
always believed Cat a rather poor influence on his mate but seeing her with Zorroc,
willing to defend him against someone two thirds larger than herself, well, it made him
want to smile, even as his world was crashing around his ears. How could his mother
have birthed another male’s baby—the male of his father’s best friend and trusted
comrade? He shook his head and sank to his seat.

“It is private, my Cat. Sherem would not feel comfortable while this is being

discussed.”

“She may stay, Zorroc. Maybe she can make sense of it all but first I want to see

my mate. Will you send for her?” On top of the disastrous news Zorroc repeated from
his communications with Nadia, Sherem had been told of a naked Adonis carrying her in
his arms when they arrived on the Miramid. Who was he and where was Bran? He had
not heard from him since he reported they were safe. And now his father had COM’d
when he had no desire to deal with either him or his mother.

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Sherem nodded and listened to his father’s frantic greeting. “Hello father, it is

good to hear your voice,” he replied without much feeling. “How is mother?”

“Insane with grief and worry. We received a COM from Rand two days ago that

the Portender was destroyed with you, Dakar, and your mate along with it. And now we
are unable to contact Kindarak for confirmation. Your mother has been frantic—what in
all Hell is going on?”

A feminine sob sounded in the background and his mother appeared on the

screen. “We’re fine mother, all of us including the Portender and her crew but we had
a…ah, slight scuffle.”

“Was Kindarak involved in this “scuffle”?” King Royce guessed.
“The Stealth is no more. Kindarak was running deadly drug cartel using Assyllis.

Either someone from Gattonia or Nefar has found a way to smuggle mass quantities for a
drug called Angels Gate. The Portender and Miramid incinerated her leaving no space
debris behind. I am sorry for the loss of your friend.” Sherem added with clenched teeth.
If Nadia ever betrayed him for another he could not fathom his response. Did his father
truly not know of the affair?

Sherem cleared his throat. “Father, I would like to speak to mother alone for a

few moments.”

Their reaction was instantaneous. His mother threw herself at his father and

sobbed, “Oh Royce, he knows, he knows.” Sherem had never seen his mother in such a
state and while she sobbed, Royce met his son’s gaze steadily with deadly intent.

“Mia, you are upsetting our son, go to our chambers. I will explain and all will be

well, will it not Sherem.”

It was not phrased as a question and Sherem knew his duty. “I swear it on my

life, mother, now go so father and I may talk. We love you,” Sherem exclaimed
suddenly. Both of his parents gawked at their son, rarely did he ever declare his feelings.

“Can you remember when last you saw Kindarak in our home?” Royce asked.
“I told Nadia I thought it was about sixteen cycles past. I didn’t wonder at the gap

of visits until just recently. Father, is Rand Kindarak’s son?”

Royce reeled in shock. Sherem was not sure if it was his blatant inquiry or

another unknown reason. When his mother fell apart about his knowing, Sherem
assumed that was what the fuss was about.

“Rand is mine,” his father replied forcefully, “and your mother’s.”

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“But Kindarak told me…”
Royce closed his eyes in anguish and lifted his head to the heavens. “My former

friend and your godfather raped your mother right around the time that Rand was
conceived. When she found she was with child the first thing she checked was the DNA
of the fetus; when the results confirmed the boy was mine, she kept it. I do not know to
this day if she would have made the same choice had the result been different.

“With the changed behavior of Mia toward Kindarak, I became suspicious and

confronted her some sixteen cycles past when Rand was little more than a babe. It was a
difficult time for us.”

“Changed how, father?”
“I noticed that she could not stand Kindarak’s touch or to even look at him and

constantly made excuses to leave any room he occupied. Since their relationship had
always been one of warmth and friendship, I naturally became suspicious. You must
understand that your mother and I shared a formal mating for purposes of political bonds.
It was not until Kindarak raped your mother that our bond developed into a true mating
filled with respect, friendship…and even love. I decided to shun Kindarak rather than
kill him; uncomfortable questions would have been asked and your mother had been
though quite enough at the hands of that monster. I discouraged any contact with my
sons, as well, which is why you cannot recall seeing him for a long while. I only learned
with Rand’s COM about the Portender that Kindarak remained in his life, keeping up the
uncle act all the while.”

Sherem shook his head, baffled. “How could you not know of their relationship?

Why would he hide it?”

“I cannot say, really. Rand told me it was because his godfather told him that he

wished to avoid you and Dakar becoming jealous of their relationship, considering it was
so much closer than yours. He apparently spent obscene amounts of credits on him and
traveled with him quite a lot.

“Your mother and I have our own obligations to Nefar that keep us buried most of

the time and you have always gone your own way.”

“What about Dakar? He and Rand were always close.”
“I do not know, son, you will have to ask Dakar.”
“The thing that has us so upset is that Kindarak contacted Rand and told him

about the Portender—and that he was Rand’s true father after a brief love-lost affair with

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your mother. Now Rand doubts his true parentage and no amount of denial from us will
convince him.”

Sherem shrugged. “Show him through DNA. At any rate, the point is moot.

Kindarak is dead. Both the Stealth and the Miramid destroyed her—after rescuing Nadia
and a small boy along with Ryder, the Prince of Kerr and his crew.”

“I am relieved he is gone and even more relieved you are well. Kindarak

was…not rational and seemed to deteriorate over time.”

“That is not the half of it. Aside from being a drug lord responsible for killing

perhaps thousands, he had some obscene plan to kill you, mate with mother, take over
your throne, keeping my mate as his whore.” Sherem could not stem the fury of his
proclamation. And soon he would be facing his mate seen in the arms of another male—
a naked male. Since hearing the tale upon his arrival to his ship and subsequent meeting
with Nadia’s brother; he hoped his rage had cooled enough to confront her and her lover.
How could she let a stranger touch her? And then to hear of his mother’s infidelities
directly from the mouth of Kindarak, well, they were the last words he uttered before he
vanished and the battle commenced.

“I must go…Tell mother that we understand and not to worry. We will straighten

out our youngest brother.”

“That will be appreciated.” Royce cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There is

one further bit of business…”

* * *

Nadia felt the mental link with Bran sever. “Faster,” she commanded.
The bullets were extracted in minutes and the incisions closed though it felt like

hours. “Test them and determine their composition,” she ordered one of the techs.

Bran had slipped into a coma. Sonny came charging around the corner and made

a beeline in her direction. He threw his arms around her thighs, tears leaking from his
eyes. “I felt him in my head and then lost him. Will your dog be all right? He can talk,
you know.”

Nadia emitted an anguished laugh. “He is so much more than a dog, sweetheart;

he is my friend and almost gave his life for ours.”

“So he will be fine,” Rees stated as he slipped his hand in hers.

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Cat chose that moment to come charging into the room and threw herself at

Nadia. “Thank God you are safe. We’ve been worried sick and your mate a burly,
inconsolable barbarian, as usual. He even attacked your brother,” she stated indignantly.

“Rocky can take care of himself, I am sure,” Nadia commented.
“Actually, I attacked Sherem. He begged Zorroc to get me off him.”
Nadia laughed helplessly through her tears for Bran. She could just picture the

scene but then sobered. “Where is Sherem, I think Bran is doing better.” She added for
fear of Sonny’s reaction.

Cat went over to a now fully changed ankou and ran her hand down Bran’s fur,

tears welling in her emerald eyes. “He’s on his way but I thought I’d warn you, while in
our chambers, Sherem’s parents contacted him.” Cat explained the gist of the
conversation detailing Kindarak’s relationship with Sherem’s mother.

“She was raped? Somehow that does not come as a surprise. What else?”
“Uh, there is some rumor going around that you were carried to safety by a really

hunky guy and after the news about Sherem’s mother…well safe to say he’s a bit put
out.”

“Hoyboy, it is easily explained, I just hope he gives me the chance. You’re still

fidgeting, sister mine, out with the rest of it,” Nadia implored, wiping her suddenly
tingling hands on her robe.

Cat squirmed. “Well, I did overhear a bit of the conversation…” Nadia just bet

she did which brought back memories of another time when the two of them listened in to
Zorroc’s one time fiancé and her brother delivering the news of his and Cat’s mating.
Nadia raised an eyebrow and waited.

“Ah, here is Camille to take you to the children, Sonny. They are up and want to

meet you.”

“Are you sure Bran will be alright?” Nadia could tell he was torn between his

delight in finally playing with children and his concern for Bran.

“He will be fine, sweetheart, he just needs to rest.” Nadia encouraged. When the

nanny’s and Sonny’s steps could no longer be heard, she turned to Cat.

“It seems that they are aware of your and Sherem’s mating and seek to overturn it

on the grounds that you may be infertile because of the virus. They want the bond
overturned. Your brother is outraged.”

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Nadia, caught unawares, sank into a chair feeling sick to her stomach. After all

the cycles he had chased her and everything they had survived since embarking on their
journey to have his parents bring it all to an end. What would Sherem do? And what
would her brother do to Sherem and possibly Nefar. Zorroc could pull the Assyllis
contract for such an insult to her. Zorroc was overly protective; Zazu, he could demand
satisfaction from Sherem and die because of her. Or if he got lucky, could kill Sherem.
The two males she adored beyond reason. She had to stop them. Without realizing it she
had risen, scrambling for the exit.

“Stop!” Her pintsized sister-in-law demanded. “He loves you, Nadia, trust him to

work this out.”

Nadia snorted. “I know Zorroc loves me, that is why I have to save him.”
“Not your brother, numbskull—Sherem.”
Nadia stopped dead. “What is a numbskull?”
“You, if you don’t get hold of yourself. Sherem loves you, it won’t matter what

the King and Queen command; Sherem will never let you go.”

Nadia sighed. “More like he loves the lucrative Assyllis trade.”
‘I believe “numbskull” a very apt description for you if, for even an instant you

believe that.” Sherem’s voice soft in her ear made her blush from her chest up to the top
of her head. Nadia slowly turned to face him. “I did not mate with you for your
productive organs. I lifemated with you because you make my heart beat, my blood
coarse and my world complete as long as it contains you. Now you will explain who this
male is that dares touch you; I would have a word with him.”

“He is right over there.”
“That is Bran,” Sherem murmured and took three giant steps to reach his side.

“What happened, why was I not told!” He turned to the MTEs and lowered his voice
pinning them with a glare. “What is his condition and what all is being done on his
behalf? He is my protector. His life cannot be measured.”

“Leave off, my friend; I am sure they are doing their best.” Bran did not move or

change his respiration in any way but Sherem still heard the weak response.

“Is there anything that you know that we, I, or the MTEs can do to assist in your

healing?”

“Poisoned,” Bran replied.
“Have you determined the poison used?” Sherem asked the MTE in charge.

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He gulped. “P-p-poison? He was shot, we removed the missiles. Why would

you think he was poisoned?”

Sherem ignored the question. “Find out what was in the missiles or coated onto

them. NOW!” He went to the COM and spoke quietly then turned to Nadia and Cat. “A
team of our own is on their way to assist the Med-techs here.” Turning back to the three
techs he said, “If he dies, so do you. Gattonians are purported to have superior skills, I
would like a demonstration of that…or do I need to contact Zorroc to make my wishes
clearer?” Sherem needed no further impetuous to persuade them of Bran’s worth.

“No, your highness, we are checking now, sir, and will let you know

momentarily.”

“I remember that Kindarak was something of an alchemist,” Sherem added. “It

may be a combination of components.”

Four MTEs arrived from the Portender and Sherem realized that he, Nadia, and

Catarina would only be in the way. “Rollins, I want an update as soon as possible. We
will be in our chambers.” He led both Cat and Nadia out.

“If you will excuse us, Catarina, I have need of your sister.” Sherem actually

grinned when Cat blushed.

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205

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Now,” Sherem whispered into the disc around his neck, scooping Nadia into his

arms. In the next instant they were in their chambers on the Portender.

“Numb skull,” Sherem chuckled lightly. “How very amusing. I am coming to

approve of your Catarina.” He dumped Nadia unceremoniously on the L-shaped lounge
in the front chamber and growled frowning, “Now explain yourself! The male holding
you in transport was nude while you were barely clothed.”

“Explain yourself, numb skull, since you are so taken with the phrase! Do you

really mean to defy your parents and keep me by your side as your only lifemate, as you
promised? Or do you intend to take a second or even third mate, ones that can be certain
of giving you off-spring?” At Sherem’s silence Nadia rose and marched into their
sleeping chamber. “Hello J, it is good to be back. Please arrange the bathing pool to
deep heat and massage; I am filthy from my ordeal.”

“It awaits, Princess.”
“J, you are supposed to call me Nadia.”
“Only in private.”
“Oh, don’t mind the raging bull there, maybe if we ignore him he will disappear.”
“Do not count on it, Princess,” Sherem answered; shedding layer after layer until

he stood naked and fully aroused. He crossed to Nadia, divesting her of the robe with
one fluid tug and froze, his gaze rolling over every exposed inch of her.

Nadia squirmed under his regard. It had been scorching hot and stuffy in her cell,

so she’d first ripped the sleeves off her gown, then stripped out of her Kameri skin and
finally tore the floor-length skirt until the hem brushed her thighs. “It was unbearably
warm; I had to make adjustments to my attire.” Sherem gulped hard and rent the tattered
garment in two before throwing her over his shoulder, stomping to the pool and lowering
her in—with great care. As if she was some fragile miss. Loud rantings she could handle
but his gentleness caused unexpected tears to fall silently down her cheeks. After settling

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in beside her, he kissed them away, arranging her across his lap where he cleansed her
from face to feet and finally hair. He languidly massaged her scalp and after rinsing,
allowed her to wash him. She loved the slow pace he’d initiated but awareness bubbled,
tingled, and thrummed inside her until even her fingertips sang in response. She took
extra care with his rock hard erection; wrapping one hand firmly around it stroking up
over his bulbous red tip then down to his root, and using her other hand to cradle and
gently knead his balls. His head fell back and his eyelids lowered to half-mast but failed
to hide the fire of desire scorching her to her womb. Nadia thrilled to his every groan,
harsh breath, and tremor until he surged up with her in his arms and followed her down
when he reached their mat…and licked her dry. Nadia felt just like the heroines in her
aunt’s books. He was seducing her—all of her until every touch made her cry out with
wonder at his ministrations. He made her feel equal parts worshipped and rabid to have
him inside her. Over her. Demanding her surrender. Filling her to bursting.

“Sher, please,” she wailed. Their lovemaking before had always been fast, hard,

controlling—proving his mastery over her. He had never finessed or slowly, tenderly
made love to her. What could it mean?

“I love you,” he groaned, thrusting into her to the hilt. Nadia climaxed from the

combination of being impaled and his admission but he gave her no time to savor the
waves of ecstasy or his words. His masculine scent surrounded her as effectively as his
body’s invasion. When he slightly adjusted his angle Nadia crested again. He literally
purred creating a pulsating beat she felt inside her womb and clear down to her toes. He
turned greedy, ravenous, and ruthlessly determined to conquer her. Pummeling into her,
faster and harder, Sherem snaked a hand down her abdomen, grazing then circling her
clitoris with his thumb. When he shouted his completion, Nadia’s senses spiraled crazily
causing a startled yelp to escape her lips and the walls of her vagina to spasm on and on,
increasing in force instead of ebbing, propelling her groan to a keening wail.

Sherem studied his mate quizzically, a faint smile playing at the corners of his

mouth. He had given her la petit mort—the little death. The ultimate completion. He
stayed inside her rolling onto his back until she rested on top of him refusing to sever
their connection. Surely he had proven their bond too elemental and meaningful to risk it
by mating with a stranger even for the purposes of an heir. That was what brothers were
for and after witnessing the mating mark on Tula, a child surely could not be far behind.

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Nadia groaned, slowly opening her eyes. “You said that you love me. Does that

mean you have changed your view on the subject or was it simply a misspeak?”

“Yes,” Sherem answered. Nadia quickly looked away and made to rise. He held

her in place. “What I feel for you transcends love in a million different ways. I adore
you, misulu. And regret it took me so long to realize it. Your sister-in-law is right. I will
never let you go. You were entirely too much trouble to catch.” He paused after each
word to kiss and caress her face, neck, and arms.

“But your parents…”
“Will never come between us nor will a second mate. If we cannot have little

ones, my other two brothers can certainly fill the nursery until it spills over with baby
giggles. The only thing in life I cannot live without is you.”

Nadia tightened her grasp around his waist and buried her face in his neck

mumbling the words that soothed his soul and made it sing. She was his. He drifted into
oblivion colored with Nadia in poses past, he grinned in his sleep…and future.

* * *

“Nadia, what do you think you’re you doing!” shrieked a familiar staccato

exclamation, jerking Nadia out of a solid slumber.

“Wha…” she mumbled. Nadia had left her snoring barbarian to sit with Bran in

case he awoke in the early hours. Rollin’s reported that the poison had been identified
and neutralized but he remained in a coma-like slumber. She must have gone to sleep
with her hand still tangled in Bran’s fur because her arm and hand were numb and her
back pulled painfully when she sat up. Disoriented, she focused on both, Tula and Cat,
Cat having issued the awakening accusation. She noticed they were of similar height and
build and both wore identical expressions of horror.

Nadia blinked and shook her head in confusion. “What do you mean, what am I

doing? I am sitting with Bran. He saved my life; the least I can do is be here when he
revives. That’s what I’m doing. Now explain what you are doing. Where is Sonny?”
Nadia paused realizing Tula had boarded the Miramid and that the two had met one
another. She further noticed Tula’s mating tattoo and smiled to herself.

“That is not Bran!” Cat admonished. “That is a man.”
“Male,” Tula quietly corrected.

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Nadia swung her head around and gaped at the beautiful hunk, and at her tingling

hand resting low on his abdomen. She snatched it away, speechless. He was naked, dark
skinned, with steel colored, shaggy hair…and still unconscious.

“It is not…It is….” Nadia brandished.
Cat snorted. “What it is; is perfectly clear to the naked, er, the ahhh…”
The three watched in disbelief as the male transformed into Bran.
Utter silence reined for a solid minute before Bran groaned and lifted his head.
“Bran?” Nadia whispered.
“Whom were you expecting? What did he pump me with, acid flakes? Where are

Sherem and his son, are they safe?” he mind-spoke

Nadia’s eyes bulged. “Sherem’s son?” she queried. Was he confused after his

ordeal or…

“Son?” the other two bleated in unison.
Bran shook his coat and jumped from the table, completely healed. “Do you

mean Sonny?” Nadia asked.

“What does he mean by son? Is he talking about Sonny? I mean, no doubt he

must be referring to someone’s son, but Sherem’s? That would mean…” Cat clamped
her mouth shut.

“He has been spreading his seed around,” Tula finished.
“Kindarak called Sonny the Son, S - o - n of Nefar. He is Sherem’s child. The

mother sold him to Kindarak, with the assurance that he would deliver Rees, the boy’s
real name, into the hands of Sherem. Unfortunately, he decided to use Rees as a pawn in
a vicious game of blackmail and leverage.”

“Sonny…Rees…” Could that be why Nadia felt an immediate attachment to the

child? For it was true; he had much of his father in him. Nadia paused. How did she
feel, however, that another female had gifted Sherem with a son when she may very well
be barren? Thoughts of Sun…, no Rees’s unvarnished caring and bravery raced around
her mind and she decided that he could not be blamed for being born. As it stood, she
had determined that she and Sherem would adopt him anyway. This way she would not
have to convince Sherem. It was a fait accompli.

“Princess, your attention. Are Sherem and Rees safe?”
“Bran wants to know how Su…er, Rees is faring.”

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“Rees is resting and well fed.” Cat answered. “The triplets and he have become

fast friends and teaching him the diabolical tricks every yard-ape should know. He came
to visit you when you were unconscious, and as soon as Camille gets some food into him
this morning, I’m sure he’ll be back—probably with the triplets in tow.” Bran groaned.

Tula rubbed behind Bran’s ear. “Should you be up? Only a few hours ago we

were terrified you would not survive. Everyone has been…frantic for you.”

Nadia almost laughed. Obviously Tula had been informed of Nadia’s

highhandedness. Maybe blazer-handed would be more accurate. If she had it to do over,
her tactics would be the same.

“Tell her I have suffered no lasting affects from the acid fire,” he counseled

Nadia.

“He says, thank you, but he is fine.” Nadia glanced back to Bran and added,

“Sherem is fine, as well and the Stealth has been destroyed, save for Prince Ryder and his
crew. I suppose the first order of business is informing Sherem of his fatherhood and
getting him settled close to us in the Portender.” Nadia made for the exit.

Cat paused. “Wait a sec. We’ll be landing in a couple of hours, sweetie, I heard

Zorroc receive permission from Jasper. Plus, he’s still asleep. Maybe it should wait until
we land.

“Um, one thing that can’t wait however is…shouldn’t we tell Bran about his

change in, uh, appearance? He can’t just go switching back and forth, flashing that
naked—literally to die for body to the masses.”

Nadia shrugged. “He changed on the Stealth in order to carry me out. I doubt it

will come as much of a surprise.”

“Changed? Of what is the wood nymph speaking?” Bran asked.
“Just a moment ago you changed from human to ankou and last night must have

changed from ankou to human. Were you aware of that?”

“No. I wonder if my body affected the change to accelerate healing? Convey my

apologies to Zorroc’s wood nymph and Tula for startling them.”

Nadia laughed out loud. “Bran, there are no such things as wood nymphs. They

are a myth. A made up story. Cat is just a small Earth female.”

“Do not voice beliefs for which you have no practical knowledge.”
Cat cocked her head at Nadia’s surprised scrutiny. “This is decidedly unfair. I

know you’re talking about me.” She focused on Bran, deciding to get a little of her own

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back. “You know Bran, you just proved an ancient Earth axiom that touts—‘You are
what you eat’.”

Bran looked positively horrified.
“Bran, are you well?”
Sherem’s inquiry startled him for a moment but then he answered. “I doubt I will

ever be well again. Do you think it possible to become what you eat?”

“Huh?”

* * *

Bran, in human form, fully suited, walked companionably down the corridor with

Nadia and entered the jetquik to Sherem and Nadia’s chambers. The Miramid had
already ported in Jasper and the Portender was making final preparations to follow. “Do
not fret, little one, all will be well. Sherem will take one look at the tiny scrapper and fall
in love.”

“Quit doing that; it’s impolite.”
“Doing what?”
“Reading my mind. And I know it will be alright, I am just…I want so much for

him to be happy about it—not for me but for Rees. We have a lot to make up for, and to
reassure Rees that he is safe and wanted.” Nadia shook her head. “A nightmare about
his life up to this moment and the way he was treated aboard the Stealth is the reason I
ended up at your bedside. Ha, I thought that I had it rough with no mother or father, to
speak of, but at least I had my brothers and two aunts. And I was secure in their love.
First Rees is born into poverty, then sold by his own mother, then starved, tortured, and
hid in the bowels of a ship with a madman at the helm. I can hardly credit it, and it
makes me worry how everything will affect him in the cycles to come.”

“He is a survivor, Nadia. And with all of the bad things that have happened to

him, he remains a caring, intelligent, and incredibly clever human. He will make a fine
male and warrior when he is grown.”

Nadia looked stunned; blurting, “Warrior?”
“Yes. He will want to protect those unable to protect themselves—exactly like

your mate.” They had exited the jetquik and stood outside the panel.

Nadia took a deep breath and before she could voice the code, the panel

whooshed open to an agitated Sherem.

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“What is this male doing with you? Is he the one who carried you to safety?” He

yanked Nadia behind him to face the intruder who all were speaking of—galling him no
end. Sherem should have been the one to rescue her…or Bran. Nadia had dodged his
question the night before and after appraising at the enigmatic warrior before him, the
answer became clear.

“It is good to see you, as well, and acting every bit like the jealous ass I have

come to know so well. It is I, barbarian,” Bran mind-spoke, humor dancing in the depths
of his familiar grey eyes.

“I would have explained last night but decided it best you see for yourself.”
“Bran?” he marveled incredulously. “You can talk.”
“I have for quite some time, if you recall.”
“Zazu, you are just full of surprises.”
“You have no idea,” he agreed drolly. “May I enter?”

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Chapter Twenty-Five

“Ah,” Sherem uttered, eyeing Nadia uncomfortably, “are you sure?” By all that

was holy, he thanked the powers he was not an older male. If Bran’s shape-shifting to
human form had not proved bizarre enough, plus listening to him with his ears instead of
his mind—finding out Kindarak purchased a child he had fathered and intended to use for
whatever nefarious purpose his sick mind could conjure certainly capped it. And what
could be going through Nadia’s mind? She had been holding herself unnaturally still and
not commented once. Would her hard won trust in him be shattered? His day had begun
poorly, first without his mate by his side after an incredible night of lovemaking; then
Bran turning up human, and now this—a little boy; his little boy. Visualizing the past
experiences of the poor mite only compounded his state. He stole another glance at his
mate. A rock exhibited more animation.

“Positive.” Bran sat on the cushioned lounger with his legs crossed, similar to

Sherem’s, feeling uncomfortable and awkward. His clothing chaffed in a most coveted
area of his anatomy; making him squirm to accommodate the appendage between his
legs. If that was not bad enough, he had to urinate—not at all sure how to accomplish the
deed in his present form. Before, he had always used the botanical solarium deciding his
excretions provided a satisfactory fertilizer. Now, however, he would be forced to use
the clean room. He almost groaned in consternation. Sherem broke into his thoughts.

“This is no time to mind wander; I asked how old is he?”
Bran looked to Nadia who shrugged. “I would guess approximately five cycles

but I believe only his mother could provide the exact number.”

Sherem grunted, trying to hide his relief. At least Rees had been born before he

had met Nadia. Barely. A point he intended to drive home when they had some privacy.

“Since the mother resides in Jasper it seems only logical that you contact her and

ask.”

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Sherem squirmed with the knowledge that it could be one of many he barely

remembered let alone knew the name of. His carefree days returned to haunt him. He
could not even COM Rosik for assistance. He studied Bran, noticing he fidgeted as well.
“I am the one in the hot seat, why are you twitching about?” he mind-spoke. Bran
groaned in Sherem’s mind, explaining his dilemma. Sherem shot back the step by step
procedure and felt Bran sigh.

“If you will excuse me, I will return with, er, the child.” Bran all but fled from

the room.

Sherem thought Nadia whispered ‘coward’ and grinned. He moved to sit close to

her, nestling her against his side. “Rees was born before we met; you should not be
upset. I am not even sure of the mother’s identity; I had no lasting affairs before you, my
Nia,” he added for good measure.

“It’s not th…” Sherem nuzzled her just behind her left ear. “That’s not…” He

kissed her cheek, brushing his lips up to her temple.

“Tell me your thoughts, misulu. Are you afraid I will take her to mate?” Nadia

jerked suddenly, telling him the prospect not occurred to her. He had stuck his proverbial
foot into dung once again. “If not that then tell me.”

“It would be easier with you across the room; you are distracting me.” When he

merely smiled Nadia sighed. “I never had the test.”

She whispered the words so softly Sherem barely registered them. “What test?”
“The one that would determine if I am sterile.”
Sherem rushed to reassure her but she put her fingers over his lips to block his

words. “I believe you, and I trust you…and I love you.” She sat up and faced him. “I
want to adopt Rees. I want to be his mama and raise him and love him and spoil him to
make up for these last years. I want us to heal him and give ourselves over to make him a
happy, confident, and whole child. And not because I am afraid I may be infertile but
because I love him already. I want you to love him, too, and I want us to be a family.”
Nadia’s words rushed out of her so fast Sherem barely understood what she was trying to
say. When he did he took her hand covering his lips and kissed them, he saw her eyes
glaze over making him cherish her all the more. Such a gentle creature and such a strong
one; still waters, indeed, ran very deep. And though he loved her to distraction, he knew
little of her except what was widely discussed. She remained a mystery. “What were
you like as a little girl? Were you a confident, precocious little hellion, climbing trees,

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collecting bugs, eating mud pies and giving everyone in radius heart failure with your
antics?”

Nadia looked down, placing her hands in her lap. “I believe that I was quiet. My

mother died giving birth to me, something very rare in these times, but she had a reaction
to the birthing medication. It stopped her heart and a choice had to be made in a split
second whether to save my life or hers. Apparently, it was not known for some time if I
would be normal because of the loss of oxygen—and because I did not speak until I was
three. My father was heartbroken over my mother’s death, disconsolate, and could not
seem to look at or be around me. I – I went to see one day when I was very young. He
was feeling unwell and wasting away. Anyway, when I went into his chambers with a
book and asked him to read to me, he grabbed it, threw it against the wall, and called me
a killer. An abomination.” Her knuckles were white, her hands buried in the folds of her
robe. “I’ve never told anyone that story before. I felt so ashamed.” She snuck a look at
him before continuing.

“I have always believed that he made the wrong choice and should have saved my

mother instead.” Sherem grabbed her, almost squeezing the air out of her.

“Sherem,” she squeaked. He loosened his grip but could not meet her gaze.
“How could they treat you that way! You are precious, coveted, unique, and

genuinely valued for the female you are,” Sherem ranted.

“Please, do not think I was mistreated in any way. Rocky and Linc spoiled me to

distraction allowing me to follow them everywhere, while Jaffers told me stories every
night and tucked me in when my aunts were on an off-world assignment. And though I
mourned my father, when he passed, I did not feel his absence because I never really
knew him.

“If I could ask just one thing of you, Sher, it would be that you spend lots of time

with Rees, playing with him, engaging him, and reading to him at night. I know this is
fast; that it is too soon for children but if I have to; I will beg. Every child deserves to be
wanted, loved, and cherished for the miracle they are.”

“Hum, seems to me that you are asking more than just one ‘thing of me’. I would

be responsible for nurturing and wanting my own son. And that I love, cherish, and play
with him.

“But if I accomplish all that, what would be left for you to do?” he teased.

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Nadia smiled. “I will sing to him, play with him and above all, love you both

more than words could ever describe.”

Sherem buried his face in her hair to hide his tears and swore he would love,

worship, and care for his misulu for all of his remaining days; which he prayed would be
many—a lifetime. Even encompassing the lifetime beyond.

Mia, Sherem’s mother, had slipped in when the huge dark male vacated,

motioning him to silence. The Portender had just landed and she wanted to surprise her
son and talk some sense into him about his supposed mating with the Gattonian princess.
Instead she left as quietly as she entered. She wanted to see her first grandchild.

* * *

The cacophony of screams, pounding feet, shouts, and giggles flooded the

corridor as Sherem and Nadia stepped out of the jetquik on the children’s floor of the
Miramid. They studied each other briefly both apprehensive about entering the melee
waiting behind the panel. As one, they grabbed each other’s hand, sighed then marched
to their fate.

The panel gave way to a reveal a scene straight from a circus; so many images hit

Nadia at once, she froze with the effort to process it all. Her three nephews were dressed
in loud, primal colors complete with painted faces—riding Bran, one on his head and two
bouncing on his back as he slowly made his way around the room. Rees was sitting
patiently with an older female while she applied bright red hearts on his cheeks and black
spades around both eyes. Nadia could not decide whether he looked accepting or
patiently miserable. The lady patted and cooed between every stroke of her color wand.
At that moment Nadia wondered if he would have preferred life on the Stealth…and
fought an unruly grin. Cat hopped enthusiastically behind her children on Bran while a
calm, content Zorroc sat on a chair sipping choc-tea. Camille was absent. Smart
Camille.

Sherem stopped dead when his gaze pounced on—Geez, his...
“Mother?” Sherem gawked.
Mia gave Rees one last pat and rose. “Hello, darling. I see you made it safely.

Greetings Nadia, welcome to our family; Royce and I are simply overjoyed.”

She approached with the marker still in hand and Nadia unconsciously backed up.

Sherem tightened his grip and tugged her forward.

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“Cat and Rocky kindly invited us over to meet our grandson. He looks so much

like you when you were that age. We are ecstatic. And he is very bright and incredibly
brave to have persevered as he has.”

“How could you possibly know all this when I…”
Mia blissfully waved him away. “Mothers have their ways, my precious son.

Where is Dakar? We sent for Rand; he is due in tonight. It seems cycles since the entire
family was together.”

Sherem’s gaze riveted on to his son and Rees, as well, eyed him carefully. Nadia

held out her hand and Rees approached grabbing it like a lifeline. She bent over and
whispered, “How’s it going, sweetheart?”

“I’m not sure. Is he really my father?”
“He sure is.” Nadia turned toward Sherem but he was already kneeling.
“I am so sorry, son. I didn’t know, I swear. I would have come for you, I…”

Rees jumped into his arms.

Sherem did not bother to hide his tears. How had Rees managed, even thrived,

with such a perverted monster. Hugging his son tightly he realized just how starved he
felt under his hands. They had given him barely enough to sustain his life and for that
Sherem wished he could kill Kindarak again. And again. And again. He cleared his
throat. “You are coming with us when you get through playing with your cousins;
alright?”

“Cousins?”
“Yes, the terrible three are your cousins. Nadia’s nephews are your cousins. You

are related to all these people. Overwhelming, huh?”

“Naw, they’re pretty fun.” Rees squirmed to look Sherem in the eyes. “We are

on Jasper,” he hedged.

Sherem took his hand and led him a little way down the hall. “Yes, we are. Who

is your birth mother, can you remember?”

“You do not know?”
Sherem hung his head. “I was younger and had yet to meet Nadia. The culture

on Jasper is…”

“I just wondered. My mother was called Ranilla but Nadi told me that I would be

her permanent, forever mother. And she told me you would be my father so we could be

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a family. Nadi told me all kinds of things but she failed to prepare me for all this.” He
motioned behind him grinning sheepishly.

Sherem laughed out loud. “Me neither. They are quite something, huh?”
Rees smiled. “Yeah.”
“Rees, would you like to visit with your birth mother while we are here? From

what I understand, she believed that Kindarak, who at one time was close to my family,
would bring you directly to me. It was not her fault and I am sure she misses and loves
you. And though your place is now with Nadia and me, if you want to visit, we will.”

“She was sick. It is why she did what she did. She is not bad.”
“Of course not; we will look for her starting tomorrow. And it will give you time

to get to know your Aunt Cat and Uncle Zorroc…and your grandparents.”

“Hi, is everything okay?” Rees and Sherem sprang apart peering guiltily at

Nadia. Looking from one to the other, she could not believe she’d not recognized the
resemblance of father to son. They wore twin expressions of chagrin.

She crossed her arms under her breasts. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” they both spurted in unison.
Nadia eyed first one then the other and said, “Fine. I will be in our allotted

chambers. Tula is meeting me at the castle and from there to the market. I will leave you
to get acquainted.” She sauntered into the jetquik and disappeared.

“That went well,” Sherem commented dryly, leading Rees into a fit of giggles.
Sherem chuckled and held out his hand. “Let’s do some research to find your

mom, then I want to show you the Portender…and introduce you to J.”

“J?”

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Chapter Twenty-Six

“How did you get in?” Nadia asked. “I thought I left you in the children’s wing.”
Mia fluttered her hand in a dismissive gesture. “J let me in. I thought it time we

had a chat.”

Whoa, if there was one thing Nadia wanted to avoid, it was a ‘chat’ with

Sherem’s mother. “How delightful,” she blurted instead.

“You love my son.”
“Yes.”
“And you similarly love his son, though spurred through another union.”
Nadia fought a laugh. Spurred? Union? Why not just say fucked, knocked-up, or

even impregnated…if you wanted to get polite? “Um, yes, absolutely,” she responded
instead. With a straight face. So far things were going splendidly. Gag. They
understood one another and Sherem’s parents were not going to object their ‘union’.

“Then we will be off,” Mia declared standing up.
“Um, I beg your pardon?” Nadia had not been paying attention.
“Well, to have you tested, of course. Since it no longer matters whether you are

fertile or not, you may as well have the test.”

Sherem and Rees chose that moment to enter. Thank Zazu.
Sherem took in the scene, his mate’s expression and acted. “Mother, how kind of

you to visit but the three of us would like the remainder of the evening to ourselves. I am
meeting with Queen Heptshu in the morning and from there making further plans to
rescue the captain of the Miramid.” He kissed her lightly on each cheek and bid her
farewell.

“Tomorrow, early, my dear,” Mia reasserted, before making her exit.
“Humm, very smooth…and great timing,” Nadia put in.
Rees leaned against Sherem’s leg, slightly dead to the world. “Let’s put him to

sleep; he has had a very action-packed day.”

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219

“I agree.” Sherem swept him up and put him in a separate sleeping chamber right

across from theirs. He failed to utter a peep.

“Now, about us,” he stated. He caught her up into his arms and carried her to

their chamber. “I have been starved for you, misulu. Will you love me?”

“I thought you did not believe in such.”
“And now you know better. I not only love you but like, adore, and respect you.

Can you say the same?”

“I can absolutely concur.”
Sherem slipped his hand down her breast, waist, and thigh; then explored her

mons.

“Love me, Sherem.”
“An easy request.”
He stripped her in fast order, using his actions to brush every curve, plane,

erogenous zone, and satin slope of her golden skin. Her scent spurred him to heights he
never thought attainable. She was his and he would never take that possession for
granted. He lifted her high on his chest and popped her onto their mat. He was
carefree…and energized; impossibly impressed with Rees as his mate. Love for her
coated his psyche and spiked his libido. He kissed her deeply and thoroughly running his
hands up her rib cage until finding her pebbled areolas, pinching them firmly, immersed
in her reaction and acceptance of his touch. He stood and peeled off his uniform, causing
his cock to bob straight out. He wanted her with an all-consuming hunger he could not
control. But did she want him as much? Perhaps he read more into her heated gazes
when he chanced to look her way.

“Tell me,” he demanded.
“Tell you? Touch me all over; cover me with your hard heat. Push inside me and

fill me to overflowing over and over until I can take no more.”

He growled and thrust into her wet, hot heat…and stilled. “Tell me you love me!

Tell me you cannot survive without my arms around you and my cock deep inside you.
Tell me you will never, ever leave my side.” He eased back and plunged into her again.
“Say the words.” Sweat beaded his forehead as he stared deeply into her eyes. And
Nadia let him see everything her heart held for him.

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“Love is too weak a word for what I feel for you,” Nadia whispered. “I will never

leave your side by my own choice. I freely cleave to you, my darling, daring warrior;
you hold my heart for all time.”

Sherem began to move inside her with strong, steady strokes, pulsating with his

own vibrating rhythm. He felt her begin to quake before her muscles clenched his penis
and milked him until he came in a blinding rush of juices and emotion.

It was only the first of five orgasms he gave her that night.
Nadia awoke stretching languidly—to feel the empty, cold space that should have

been her mate. “J, where is Sherem?”

“With Queen Heptshu, I believe. And Queen Mia is waiting in the front parlor.”
“Ugh, ugh, ugh. That female needs additional activities to occupy her mind

beside the state of my reproductive organs.” Nadia flipped onto her stomach, feeling it
lurch and sink to her toes. “J, I do not feel right.” Before J could respond, Nadia dashed
to the commode and tossed her last meal; or what was left of it. The kabulki had been
delicious the previous night but not nearly so appetizing regurgitating that morning.

“Uhlgahawa.” Nadia sank onto the floor in a pool of sweat and lethargic limbs.
“I do not find that word in my databanks.” Nadia wanted to laugh but

unfortunately the toilet was once again calling to her.

“Well, good grief! If a tiny fertility test is going to put you in such a state…”
“Mother, leave now,” Sherem interjected. “J, get an EMT here.” He sank next to

Nadia and held her hair. “What happened?”

“Nothing; I think I suffer from influenza. Every planet possesses a set of

annoying viruses. Even Gattonia. The residents become immune eventually but off-
worlders some times had a terrible time acclimating.” Nadia unloaded another stream
vomit then rested her head on the rim. Sherem produced a goblet of fluid allowing Nadia
to rinse her mouth.

“The EMT has arrived, sir,” J announced.
“Are you through for the moment, misulu?” Nadia nodded and he lifted her

easily.

“Unnecessary, Sher; my legs are working just fine.”
“Permit me,” he whispered into her hair.
Sherem left her with the tech only to confront his mother still in the front room.

“Mother?”

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221

“Oh, for heavens sake, I warned you Gattonians are high-strung, and high-

browed, with weak constitutions. But you would not listen…and now you have gone and
bound yourself to her; promising fidelity of all things. Well, at least you have Rees…and
two brothers,” she added.

Mia’s head shot up, surprise registering in her sable eyes. Sherem knew who

stood behind and to the right of him. “Leave.” His quiet, deadly tone startled Mia.

“I am pregnant,” Nadia announced quietly, making room for the Med-tech to

scurry around her and shoot through the exit panel. Nadia turned around but paused. “If
anyone is interested, I will be keeping the commode company.”

Mia’s mouth gaped and she had the grace to look a touch shamefaced.
“Now, mother; you are to leave now. And if I ever hear that wad of prejudiced

bull-shit with concern to my choice of mates or her family, you will never again be
invited into our lives.” Sherem marched over to the exit panel and said. “J, mother is
leaving and will no longer have entrance privileges to the Portender.

Mia gasped and marched out with a sniffle. Sherem should have experienced at

least a glimmer of guilt but for some reason felt exhilarated. He had made his choice
between Nadia and his family and obviously chosen right. Cleaved to him—that’s what
she had said and he would nurture and protect that bond.

Sherem ordered choc-tea and dry toast for two then went to hold his mate’s hair

and keep a cool cloth on her brow.

* * *

“Gannett, I did not expect you.” Sherem studied his friend, or whom he had

considered his trustworthy beyond question. Reports surfaced, however, which led him
to the irrefutable conclusion that he was wrong. He brushed his hand through his hair.
Did anyone truly know anyone? And then Nadia touched his thoughts and he almost
smiled. With some cherished ones the answer proved yes. However, in Gannett’s case…

“Do not say anything. Please, just allow me to speak.” Gannett did not look well.

His skin was pasty, his eyes glazed and his limp more pronounced than Sherem had ever
seen. Gannett had been born with a disease of the bone that could not be cured; only
manipulated to lessen the deformity. But he had the driest wit and the greatest
intelligence of anyone in his acquaintance. He also housed the gentlest, kindest soul. At
least he believed that until a group of days ago.

“I simply want to know why.”

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Gannett seemed to collapse into himself. “I was being blackmailed.”
Of all the excuses Sherem had prepared himself for; this was not one.
“You are the finest, strongest, fiercest warrior in our universe. I am weak,

deformed and generally ignored by the opposite sex. But I found a lover who accepts my
failings and applauds my intelligence. And takes care of me—is a physical therapist,
actually, and has kept me from deteriorating faster than projected. Kindarak,” he spat the
word like a curse, “found out about him.”

At first Sherem thought he misunderstood but from Gannett’s expression, knew

he had not. “You found a male to love and care for you.”

“Yes.” Gannett’s confirmation was spoken with quiet self-possession.

Homosexuals, while not entirely shunned, were not looked on with respect or the dignity
they, in most cases, deserved.

“I do not understand.”
“Use the brain I know you posses! I live with and love a male. That is not

acceptable—certainly not when I hold an important political position appointed by you.
Your critics and enemies would eat you alive and when the Queen and King catch wind
of it, the fall-out to you could be immense. Hell, Kindarak ferreted out my secret, and
look what he did. And it is not over—others will find out.” A hysterical laugh escaped.
“They already have. Someone else is blackmailing me now and is demanding even more
“favors” than that maniac Kindarak. He wants credits along with the illegal shipments.”

“Stop right there! First of all, do you think me so incompetent that I cannot

defend my own appointments? Do you consider me such a fair weather friend as to
abandon them when they are most in need of my friendship? Zazu, Gannett. Do you not
know me at all? After all our cycles of friendship; after tutoring me through poly-kinetic-
theoretical-calibrations? I could care less about your sexual persuasions as long as they
do not include my mate! We are friends first and I respect you greatly…until recently, of
course.

“Were you also Kindarak’s contact with the Horta? The truth, Gannett, loose

ends make me nervous. Who but you could have had dealings with both parties?”

“Horta, macronadin—my involvement begins and ends with supplying Assyllis. I

only learned later how they were using it. I have had nightmares...” Gannett visibly
shook, clearly distraught.

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223

“But the Horta?” he continued. “Are you sure? They are clannish and have no

trust or liking for outsiders and no contact with any but for you.”

“I am sure. I put a vial of the drug into the hands of some scientists on the

Miramid. They separated the compounds and Macronadin is the binding property that
makes it both powerful and deadly. So there has to be a connection. And perhaps that is
who your blackmailer is.”

“I would do anything to trap a trafficker of Angels Gate.”
Zazu, Gannett was actually crying.
“I am so ashamed. Benik told me to trust in your friendship but I did not. What

can be done now?”

“How are you being contacted?” Sherem knew his voice lowered gruffly but

Gannett looked like he was close to swooning.

“The missives are anonymous. I have not been able to trace the source. But

either way, I must resign my position as Procurement Minister. I have compromised the
office and engaged in illegal activities.”

“Wait.” Sherem was thinking fast; Gannett was probably correct. The miracle

would be keeping him from penance. He would never survive it. And no matter what,
Sherem would not allow it. “We will set up a sting; act as if you are playing along then
turn over the culprits. Kindarak is dead and is not here to testify in your involvements.
We trap the current blackmailers and you will be rewarded for the foil.”

Gannett pursed his lips in consternation. An expression identical to the one used

back in academy days when the universe stood open for any dream as long as they passed
their courses. At times Gannett had to pull Sherem through them with a combination of
coercion, obstinate badgering for him to apply himself to his studies and threats to
withhold tutoring him for good. “Thank you, I believe it will work, but I will also be
exposed as a homosexual.”

“So? It is time our people became more accepting of alternate life choices.”
Gannett looked positively on the verge of a heart attack. He grabbed his chest and

wheezed, his eyes bugged and his face bloomed to the color of a rose.

“Oh, for heavens sake—breathe!” Nadia pounded Gannett between the shoulders.

“It is not a death sentence, after all. Males,” she uttered under her breath.

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Sherem popped up and said, “What are you doing out of our mat. You are to rest

and take care of the little one increasing inside you. How can he rest and grow when you
are charging around loose, surprising your mate and clapping people in the back.”

Nadia just put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. Gannett recovered and

stood. “I see Sherem has chosen well. You are well matched. I am…”

Nadia negated his outstretched hand and embraced him instead. “I have heard

many tales of you, Gannett. It is a delight to finally meet you.” She turned to Sherem.
“It seems that Tula has been busy. A party is planned encompassing our three families; a
small gathering of, oh, fifty—including Queen Heptshu.” Looking back to Gannett, she
added, “Of course, you are welcome, as well. Bring a guest if you wish.”

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TWENTY-SEVEN

Sherem paced across their chambers, stopping in thought occasionally with eyes

scrunched shut or looking into space, and at others grumbling to himself. At first Nadia
merely watched, fascinated with his panther movements and low grunts that reverberated
deep inside her, but finally she had had enough.

“Talk to me, maybe it will help clarify your thoughts. Someone is blackmailing

Gannet and taken over Kindarak’s drug trade. Or at least is trying. And we know that he
must be working with the Horta for the macronadin…”

“And he is close, very close. I can feel it, almost feel his eyes on me and mine.

He moves among us, misulu. I have missed something crucial; something right in front
of me. The culprit was not on Kindarak’s ship when we exploded it. I suppose it could
be one of the Kerrs but how would they have been privy to the workings of the Assyllis
agreement we have with Gattonia?

“There has to be another traitor; one that has hidden well and laid far under our

sights.”

“I hate to say this but I am afraid you are right. He could even be the mastermind

behind the Horta attack instead of Kindarak.” Nadia jumped up and threw her arms
around Sherem’s waist, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. He in turn laid a
kiss on her shoulder and rubbed her back in a soothing motion. “Your crew…is there a
lot of turnover? I mean the attacks began about two cycles past; could you cross
reference to see who has joined your force since then? If he or she is actually on the
ship…”

“You are correct; it will give us something to narrow the actions down at any rate.

Unless the person has been with me; working behind the scenes even longer.”

“Let’s not borrow trouble.” Nadia lifter her head and grazed her lips over his. He

immediately deepened the kiss to explore her moist cavity to engorge and engage her
tongue.

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“We have to get ready for the party,” Nadia moaned, twining her hands around his

neck.

“We will be late, I guarantee,” he assured her. He lifted her high on his chest and

carried her to their mat. “J,” he groaned, “correlate a list of all new personnel from two
cycles past…and monitor all COMs. If anyone contacts Gannett, we will know who.”

“As you wish, Sher,” J answered, stopping Sherem in his tracks. Nadia pulled his

neck closer to her mouth and began to giggle helplessly.

“Nadia is the only one with leave to call me by that endearment, never use it

again.” Nadia thought she heard J sigh. “And no interruptions until further notice,” he
finished. Nadia had already peeled his uniform from his shoulders; when he lowered her
onto the soft downy comforter she kept hold of it, baring him to the tops of his thighs—
her eyes a swirling temptation of illicit promise…

His dark erection bulged and bobbed invitingly, and she licked her lips. When

she raised her gaze to Sherem’s she could read his feral intent. She grinned; she had her
own plans for his cock-lollypop.

“Nadia.” His voice rasped in a deep, implied threat and her breathing came in

shallow pants when she cradled his cock in her hands and took him in her mouth to the
very back of her throat. Sherem grabbed hanks of her hair and began rocking; careful not
to push too far. She licked, and sucked, and kissed, and swirled her tongue around his
head.

“No more, I am too close to orgasm and I want to come inside you.”
“Nadia, misulu, please.” Though he begged her to stop he continued to move; all

control caught in Nadia’s lips. “Ahhhhh,” he yelled low in his throat while Nadia lapped
up every drop of cum.

Sherem pushed her down and fell on top of her; spent. He loved, craved, and

lusted her—and every time they lay together his feelings grew in proportions so great that
they swamped, nearly drowning him. He could not…would not lose her to whatever
threat remained. And he would find and destroy it, but for now he intended to love her
completely until her legs would fight to hold her weight when they finally attended the
family festivities that evening.

He almost felt as if he floated onto to her—into her. In a matter of seconds he

was hard, hard, hard. And something more occurred. He felt her in his head; felt her
arousal, her love, her total devotion to him and her thoughts fired his. It was exactly how

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227

he felt—he wanted to eat her and love and cherish her…and keep her from harm. “I can
feel you in my head…in my heart.”

“Yes, you are well and truly captured, barbarian.”
“May I remind you that this barbarian is still quaking in your womb?”
Ugh, Nadia thought, Sherem was becoming obsessed with her body—not in the

way she intended but in protecting her from every little glitch. There was absolutely no
reason to assume that this final threat had anything to do with her but Sherem insisted
that she don the Kameri leathers under her gown; one similar to the one she had worn
onto the Stealth. Long sleeves, long gown, high neck. It had not helped her in that
situation—and with her family and friends literally surrounding her, could not fathom
how it would assist her now. Males.

“You look stunning, mate.” Sherem rubbed his large hands down her sleeves,

onto her waist and then cupped her mons—still swollen from his earlier ministrations.
Hum, maybe wearing the gown he desired had hidden benefits. J chose that moment to
chime in.

“The list is complete, Sher-em.” Sherem cursed under his breath. “It holds only

thirty-one names. The report awaits in your POD.”

“Cursed party. I need to take care of this now; not prancing around with a bunch

of royal Gattonians and Jasperi.”

“You are “royal”, as well,” Nadia reminded him. “The list will be here when we

return and perhaps Gannett has received a missive. Be charming. Let’s go.”

Sherem sighed, taking one last glance to the wall shielding the miniature POD.
The “family gathering” had grown to include the crews of both the Miramid, and

Portender, and a generous portion of Jasperi elite. In short Sherem’s worst nightmare
when faced with a threat from an unknown source. He signaled Jorge over.

“The Queen certainly knows how to launch an event,” Jorge said.
“I have received word that a last threat exists—someone attempting to overtake

the distribution of Angels Gate is threatening our Procurement Minister to attain surplus
Assyllis. I am putting my full trust in you, Jorge, both as a friend and my Captain. Keep
your eyes open for anything seeming not quite right; I promise to take your observations
seriously. And watch all those around my mate because of the past history in using her to
get to me.”

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Jorge whistled under his breath. “I would want you at my back, as well, my

friend. I will keep a fast eye and clear instinct. Nadia will not be taken from you again.”

He moved away and flanked Nadia, drawing Dakar into conversation who seemed

equally as preoccupied in both Tula’s and Nadia’s welfare. Three sets of eyes would be
watching. Gattonia’s Procurement Minister seemed nervous but had a male guarding him
so Jorge was not overly concerned.

“I need to use the facilities,” Nadia murmured to Cat.
Cat nodded imperceptively and whispered, “Safety in numbers, let’s grab Tula

and go together, er, so to speak.”

Nadia tittered and leaned to whisper to Tula. She actually looked relieved. They

had been standing for almost three hours drinking jive, and if nothing else would want to
sit in the outer lounge for a moment.

“How have your lessons been going,” Cat asked Tula.
“Pretty good, Nadia drills me two hours a day.”
“She is doing great,” Nadia interrupted. “The self-defense techniques look more

like a Zen event than protection maneuvers. She is a marvel.”

Tula colored prettily. “I have a good instructor, packed with patience. I still am

not sure if I could put them to use; I seem to lack the bloodthirsty gene in which you two
excel.”

“You’ll find it if you or someone you care for is being harmed, believe me,” Cat

told her.

Rollins scurried over to the three as they approached the female lounge. “Are any

of you feeling ill? Apparently some of the plumonto canopies are tainted and causing,
ah, unfortunate reactions. Fourteen people have collapsed so far, and I am making the
rounds to make sure none of our crew are affected.”

Nadia touched him on the shoulder. “Do not look so concerned, Rollins, we feel

fine, right?” Nadia looked to first Cat then Tula, who merely shrugged.

“I will check with the chefs and meet you inside the gathering after a few minutes.

It seems almost an impossible occurrence. Actually, I have never heard of such,” she
mumbled, floating down the corridor toward the kitchens.

“Perhaps you both should come with me and let me check you over. It will not

take but a moment, and your mates would never forgive me if I allowed you to become
sick.”

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229

“What is amiss,” Bran’s voice echoed in Nadia’s mind.
“You really are beginning to get scary. Nothing is wrong, exactly. Rollins is

warning us about tainted food and wanting to take us for a quick check-up in case we
ingested some.”

“We are on our way.”
“Rollins, you are just about as cute as a button and I’m very comforted by your

concern but we’re just fine.”

“Aren’t we?” Cat asked Nadia.
“Who knows? I am increasing so nothing feels particularly great on my tummy.

Something you have amply experience with.” Nadia gently nudged Cat. “But I have
been careful with tonight’s offerings and had little more than choc-tea. I really think I am
fine, Rollins.”

“That is unfortunate, indeed.” A blazer seemed to appear magically in his hand—

and in the next second Cat’s foot whopped up and knocked it from his hand sending it
skyward then clattering, without firing, onto the floor about eight feet down the corridor.
After that everything happened in tandem. Sherem’s roar, Zorroc’s shout, Bran’s body
becoming visibly, propelling through the air and landing on the poor human stupid
enough to threaten Zorroc’s and Sherem’s mate. Jorge arrived with blazer in hand and
said, “Heal, Bran.”

Bran looked like he was tempted to take Jorge’s head off and have it for an

appetizer; and Nadia suddenly wanted to laugh at the entire scene. Poor Rollins, he
looked like he had too many of the tainted canopies which Nadia realized was just a ruse
to get Cat and Nadia away.

“Rolly?” Gannett’s horrified voice split the cacophony.
Nadia and Sherem stared at one another, feeling the last piece of the puzzle slip

into place. Tula arrived with Dakar and led them to a vacant office large enough to hold
everyone. And slowly his story came out.

“My mother was Kindarak’s mate…she was a Horta princess. Of course, he

never acknowledged her. The ceremony took place within our village and, as Kindarak
pointed out, not universally legal. Still, he visited occasionally when he got a yen to go
slumming.” Rollins spit out the last part. “One of our villagers happened on the formula
for Angels Gate completely by mistake, but Kindarak was visiting at he time—and took
advantage of the opportunity.” Rollins glanced down at his hands knotted in his lap.

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“The wheels started turning. I knew Gannett…from before. We were, um,

friends. My father blackmailed him for Assyllis using the information I gave him.” He
looked shame-faced at Gannett. “I am sorry, he was my father, and promised me great
wealth for doing his bidding. He told me that the drug would not hurt anyone; just make
them happy, and make their unbearable lives bearable. No one was supposed to die,” he
ended on a sob.

He looked up and stared at Sherem. “After you kill him I discovered he had no

will. And all the credits he promised me,” he slashed his hand in the air, “disappeared
with him. But I knew everything. You think the Horta stupid, but we are not. We be as
smart as any.” His speech began to break down to Horta regular; something he had
successfully hidden before this day. “I knew how to do it; just take her and you do
anything to get her back.” He stabbed a pudgy finger at Nadia. “Angels Gate
manufactured on Horta land; all I need is Assyllis; all other ingredients found in Horta or
stocked piled there. We be smart and got money for village. Not have to work so hard.
Be successful entre-pren-eurs.

“But little-bit spoil it all,” he said looking at Cat.
“It wouldn’t have worked anyway, Rollins, Bran was on his way. He knew we

needed assistance. I am very sorry about your father. Sometimes they are impossible to
please and not worth the effort. It is not your fault, but his own greed and evilness that
caused his demise. Is your mother still alive?” Nadia asked.

Zorroc opened his mouth but Cat put a restraining hand on his arm. She had

never heard Nadia make a comment about her father, pro or con and Cat feared that
Nadia was not simply placating Rollins but actually revealing a truth about her own
experience with her father. Zorroc seemed to understand for she felt a tremor move
through him.

“She is good.”
Nadia turned to Sherem. “He has not really done anything wrong, Sher. He

simply got lost for a while. It could happen to anyone.”

“Misulu…”
“Maybe he can be helped; he has always been kind to me—to everyone.”
“I would not hurt your mate,” Rollins stated gravely. “Even my father not hurt

her.”

SHEREM

231

Sherem ran his hands through his mane in impotent frustration. Her kind heart

would be the death of him. “Jorge, take him to lock-up. We will decide his fate when we
discern his full culpability in this mess.”

Sherem whipped his head around to glare at Nadia at the same moment she

opened her mouth. “Do not,” he growled. Nadia closed her mouth and put her hand on
his chest. “Do. Not.” Nadia turned and smiled reassuringly at Rollins as he was taken
away.

“I came across a fine expression recently that I believe describes you with great

accuracy; would you like to hear it?” Bran asked his friend happily.

“No,” Sherem answered firmly.
“Pussy-whipped.” Guffaws of laughter filled Sherem’s mind.
“You will pay,” he ground out.
“How is that possible?”
“Wait until you find your own mate and then we will see.”
Sherem could have sworn Bran whimpered.

Lil Gibson

232

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Before diving into the overwhelming waters of penning women's fiction, Lil was

a singer, cocktail waitress, sales rep and headhunter specializing in Information
Technologies. She recruited her IT husband out of North Carolina, relocated him to her
home in Nashville and married him a year and three months later. She now lives in
Weeki Wachee, Florida with her husband and three cats along with the mermaids and
manatees.

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