eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 512 Forest Lake Drive Warner Robins, Georgia 31093 A Part of Tomorrow: Promise for Tomorrow Copyright © 2007 by Liz Kreger Cover by Anne Cain ISBN: 1-59998-694-9 www.samhainpublishing.com All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: November 2007
A Promise for Tomorrow Liz Kreger
Dedication I’d like to dedicate this book to my sister, Margie (a/k/a Margherita) who was a huge help when she allowed me to bounce ideas off her head during its inception. I’d also like to thank four of my oldest writing friends, Jennifer Cummings, Sue Fickel, Sheila Clover and Suzy Walters. After listening to me whine for years, they’re the best. Also thanks to Edie Ramer and Michelle Diener for dropping everything to help me edit the crap out of this book.
Promise for Tomorrow
Chapter One An indistinct rumble in the far distance caused Jhaan san deCain to stop. His head cocked to one side, he tried to pinpoint its exact direction, but the soaring peaks and the low lying mist made it impossible to locate the source. As the sound grew it echoed throughout the wide valley. “What is it?” Markin asked as he too scanned the sky, his face intent. “A ship.” Jhaan listened a moment longer. “No—two ships.” The sound faded, then abruptly grew in volume until the air vibrated. A quicksilver movement was the only warning the men had before two ships appeared between the jagged peaks. Almost too fast to follow, the vessels closed the gap, soaring above the vast forests. The speed of their passing caused a ripple effect over the tips of the trees, the smaller ship skimming so closely that it took off the tops of several trees as it screamed overhead. Slightly above, a larger ship shadowed it, pacing it easily. Great flocks of kiriling birds took to the air, their piercing cries drowned out by the sound of the powerful space engines. Jhaan tore his gaze from the sky as fear sent his mount into a dancing jig, the sirah nearly unseating him as the beast reared and pawed the air. Jhaan sent a wave of reassurance to the animal, soothing it with a touch both physical and psychic. A quick glance toward Markin showed that the younger man was having far more difficulties controlling his sirah. The animal gave a terrified squeal and twisted into an unexpected circle. Markin was airborne for an instant before hitting the ground. He rolled with the impact, regaining his feet in time to watch his sirah vanish into the thickening mist. “Dammit!” He pulled his hat from his head and threw it down in disgust. “You had best catch him, deGens.” Jhaan continued to soothe his mount lest he shy again. “It’s a long walk home.” “Funny…” Markin’s words were interrupted with the reappearance of the two craft. They burst out of the cloud cover, roaring overhead with engines screaming to the edge of tolerance. This time www.samhainpublishing.com
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they passed close enough for Jhaan to see they were alien in origin, invaders whose presence on Dakar could not be tolerated. Wheeling at the far end of the valley, the smaller craft turned in a tight spiral to double back on itself, using the wide expanse of the clearance to maneuver in an obviously desperate attempt to evade the larger ship, but the pilot’s efforts were futile given the lack of cover. As the two men watched, the predator craft sent down a burst of fire, striking the smaller ship a glancing blow. The force of the blast sent it careening out of control, skipping over the uneven ground several times before slamming downward. Somehow the pilot kept the nose of his ship up. Dirt erupted into the air with the force of the impact, the ship plowing through the foliage until it was half buried in the tall grasses. Combined with the late morning mist, the vessel was nearly invisible. Jhaan and Markin stood silent, half expecting the smaller ship to ignite. Nothing stirred through the drifting mist, the only sound the distant engines of the larger ship as it soared out of sight. Even the kirilings had settled once more. The hush was shattered by the hum of the second craft as it reappeared to circle twice before setting down upon a wide flat expanse of stone bordering the field. “Get your sirah,” Jhaan said softly as he dismounted from his beast and handed his reins to the younger man. His gaze never left the vessel as three men emerged. He kept his voice low, aware that sound would carry in the stillness. There were times when he wished Markin possessed a stronger psi Talent. It would make speaking aloud unnecessary. “Did anyone survive the crash?” Markin asked. “I cannot feel anyone, but you’re far stronger than I.” Jhaan glanced over at the smoking wreck. Nothing moved. Narrowing his focus, he sent out a loose scan, seeking any hint of life within the hulk. There was an odd void in what must have been the cockpit, a blankness he had never encountered before. He sharpened his concentration on that emptiness for a moment before dismissing it. No one was alive within the wreck. “There are no survivors,” he confirmed in a flat voice, returning his attention to the three intruders. They were human, yet nothing about them betrayed their origin. They could have been
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from any hundreds of planets inhabiting the boundless galaxy. But then, Dakarians tended to lump strangers into two groups: Dakarians and aliens—invaders. “What are we going to do?” Jhaan ignored the younger man as he briefly considered his options. On a pilgrimage, he possessed nothing by way of a communicator with which to alert the authorities of this intrusion. Markin had joined him two days ago as Jhaan passed through Fusio on the last leg of his journey. It was unlikely the younger man would have bothered to bring a communicator with him. Their choices were narrowed to two. They could either continue on their way with the expectation that Dakarian defense had detected the trespassers and would arrive shortly, or conduct their own investigation. Jhaan had little time left to accomplish the goal of his pilgrimage, mere days before he returned to Dakar City with the stain of failure on his head and in his heart. Did he really have time to waste? But something, some instinct, urged him to investigate. “Take Ellion and find your mount,” he said in a low voice. The strengthening fog made visual tracking difficult. The three men stood well within the meadow, perhaps two hundred meters from where he and Markin now stood hidden just inside the tree line. “What will you do?” Markin swung himself up into the saddle with little wasted motion. The nervously dancing sirah required his full attention before he controlled the creature. “Get a closer look.” “But—” “Go!” Jhaan didn’t wait for the younger man to obey his order before he began skirting the meadow, edging closer to the trio where they still stood bunched at the foot of their ship. Although they appeared to be in a heated argument, they never took their attention from the stillsmoking wreck a short distance away. Two of the men betrayed a sense of unease in the way their gazes wandered over their surroundings, leading Jhaan to suspect that Dakar’s welldeserved reputation was uppermost in their minds. A cold smile curved his lips as he narrowed his concentration to begin building a subtle tension.
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“Gotta be dead. No one coulda lived through that,” Jhaan was close enough to hear one man say. Without losing his train of thought, Jhaan turned his attention on the man, taking in the brutish cast to his features and the shock of nondescript hair falling around his face in greasy lengths. He was taller than his companions, almost skeletal, yet betrayed the most fear. A distant cry of a kiriling caused the man to jerk in that direction, staring hard into the fog before turning back to the conversation. “C’mon, Cayo. Let’s just get outta here.” “We stay until the job is done,” the man he’d called Cayo replied. He was the only calm member of the trio, his attention never leaving the wreck. Jhaan ignored him for the moment, preying on the fears of the first two. Jhaan continued to build his Trace to its greatest strength, then released it, angling it to begin its work on the nervous invaders. Immediately he turned his attention on the final man. The first two were unimportant. It was the third who possessed an air of command despite his casual stance. Of medium height and build, one would dismiss him in a crowd. He faded to invisibility with the very commonness of his appearance. There was nothing to indicate that he was the leader of these three, yet Jhaan sensed he was the leader. This one betrayed no unease, gave no indication that the illusion swirling around them was affecting him, adversely or otherwise. As he watched, the trio faded from sight, the encroaching fingers of mist alternately revealing and concealing them. Relying on the haze to provide him with cover, Jhaan crouched low to make use of the waist-high grasses as he left the forest to edge closer. “But—” “Shut up, Smitty. We make sure the job is done or we don’t get paid, got it?” A shift in the mist allowed Jhaan a glimpse of the wreck. The nose of the ship was crumpled where it had finally punched into the ground, a good portion of it lying buried. Only a black plume of smoke drifting upward marked the location of the downed ship. No one could have survived that crash. Even this close he still couldn’t sense any life within the vessel. Returning his attention to the three men, Jhaan remained hidden as they continued to argue. With a sharp word, the man called Cayo cut off any further argument and motioned Smitty to accompany him. “Resh, you stay here.”
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As the two men entered the tall grasses, the fog immediately swallowed them from sight. Jhaan eased closer, pausing to study the remaining man as he hesitated at the foot of the ship’s ramp. Unaware of the unfriendly eyes on him, the little man stared off into the misty wall of vapor with growing agitation. The psi Trace Jhaan had released was evidently working on him as Resh scanned his surroundings with nervous glances, pausing to kick at a small rock. “Don’t know why I gotta stay behind. They get all the fun,” he muttered as he bent down to pick up the offensive rock and fling it in the direction taken by his companions. “Always tellin’ me what to do.” His uneven breathing was audible from Jhaan’s position. Resh’s gaze made another nervous circuit of his surroundings, the thick fog pressing in on him, muffling all sound. The other two men were already lost from sight. “Creepy place.” He hunched narrow shoulders, a visible shiver running down his spine despite the heavy humidity. “They best hurry or I just might leave ’em here.” He laughed softly at his own threat, the sound of his own voice apparently buoying his nerves. “See how they’d like that.” With the advent of the new day, the forest creatures were slowly stirring. The growing volume of their cries was eerie in the mist, echoing from unseen sources. Resh’s hand twitched as his uneasiness visibly grew with each passing moment. With his small eyes and narrow face, he reminded Jhaan of a ratin. Nasty little creatures. A cold, merciless smile curved Jhaan’s lips as the man’s pointed nose twitched. Yes, definitely a ratin. Eyes intent, Jhaan carefully built a second, stronger psi Trace of menace, increasing its intensity in slow degrees until it reached the peak of most effectiveness. Releasing it, he angled its path so that it seemed to be coming from a direction opposite Jhaan’s position. As the Trace found its mark, the ratin-man stiffened with alarm, whirling around even as he yanked his blaster from its holster in a clumsy motion. The hand holding his weapon shook as he frantically scanned his surroundings for the unseen threat. “Who’s there!” he shouted, his voice quavering with the force of his growing terror. “Show yourself!” Straining, Resh searched the concealing wall of fog, his voice dropped to a fearful whisper. “C’mon, guys, quit foolin’ around! That’s not funny!”
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Jhaan closed his eyes for a moment to better gauge the strength of the man’s rising panic, contempt curving his lips. He hoped the little ratin blew off his own foot. Keeping low in the grasses, he circled the meadow towards the smaller ship, no sound betraying his presence. Behind him he heard another whimper of fear, but ignored it as he sent his mind outward to conduct a scan of the meadow, intent on locating the two men hidden within the gently swaying grasses. Blinded as he was by the fog, Jhaan had no problem picking up the presence of the two minds he sought. Ruthlessly, he latched onto their traces, tracking them even as they reached the smaller ship. Jhaan crept forward. Close enough to see clearly through the veil of mist. Meters separated them. The two men had just reached the downed ship when, without warning, the hatch blew outward with a billow of smoke. Shock halted Jhaan’s advance. He was even more surprised when a small figure staggered from the wreck, dropping to his hands and knees in the crushed vegetation. His coughing was hoarse as he struggled to pull in lungful after lungful of clean air. There was a frozen instant before the two men converged on their victim, grabbing him and jerking him to his feet. The slight figure staggered, nearly falling once more as he was brutally prodded from the wreckage of his ship. Eyes narrowed, Jhaan did another psi scan. He easily located the first two men, but was still unable to sense the third. This had never happened before. It was as if something blocked detection. Very perplexing. And well worth investigating. Instead of forcing their prisoner toward their own ship, the two men shoved him farther into the meadow, closer to where Jhaan crouched, ruthlessly jerking the smaller man to a halt and causing him to sway before he regained his balance. Clumsy, he appeared to have trouble keeping his feet, yet faced his assailants boldly. It was difficult to be certain but Jhaan thought perhaps the little man had been injured in the crash. He was clad in a bulky flightsuit, a simple two-piece garment several sizes too large. A flight cap was pulled low over his face, concealing his features and giving no hint of his species, whether human or otherwise. Once more Jhaan considered his options. The purpose of the first two invaders were of little doubt. Their cold expressions made the effort of testing the air unnecessary. They had no
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intention of allowing their victim to live. Jhaan was tempted to simply step back and let alien deal with alien, but his sense of fair play would not allow him to desert the injured man. The disadvantage he faced was great, plus the smaller figure was proving to be an anomaly. “Dammit, Cayo, just put a hole in the bitch so that we can get off this rock. I don’t like this,” Smitty muttered as his mounting uneasiness got the better of him. Startled, Jhaan’s attention snapped back to the smaller figure as he realized for the first time that their intended victim was a woman. Even as the thought registered, Cayo reached out and jerked the flight cap off, sending a heavy spill of hair down the stiff back. With her back to him, Jhaan could see little beyond the luxurious mane of black hair curling down her back. Without giving himself time to think, he quickly began to form a Trace, intending to release it on Smitty. Although the woman was not Dakarian, he could not allow harm to come to her. An odd feeling of anticipation shivered through him as he prepared a particularly nasty twist to the psi Trace he was developing. “Shut up, Smitty! We’re supposed to make this look like the work of pirates,” Cayo said. His gaze never left the woman standing before him and his expression turned thoughtful. “Still, given where we’re at, I suppose it might make more sense to put the blame on the Dakarians. It’s no secret they’re savages.” Jhaan hesitated as the man’s words pierced his focus, nearly causing him to lose the thread of his illusion. Shaking off his distraction, he concentrated once more. Time was running out. He might not get another chance.
Rianna Chartier stood perfectly still, her heart slamming in her chest, her mouth dry with fear. Swallowing hard, she struggled to master the rising terror threatening to choke her. She knew she was a dead woman. It took everything she had to fight the urge to fall to the ground and curl into a tight ball, waiting for that final blow. No! Rianna stiffened, bringing her chin up to meet the merciless gaze of her attackers. Chartiers did not meet death with cowardice. Fighting, they gave no quarter, never admitted defeat. Through sheer will she managed to banish a large portion of her fear. Long enough to turn a steady gaze on the shorter of the two men. This was the leader, the one to watch.
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Concealing her fear, she tried to assess her injuries. Relatively unharmed given the fact that her ship was reduced to junk, she suspected she might have come away with a concussion. Her vision kept fading in and out, forcing her to concentrate on keeping her feet. While passing out was not an option, her increasing bouts of dizziness were going to hamper her. She had to find out who these men were and what they wanted with her. They weren’t pirates. Someone was backing them. That this Cayo spoke so openly of their gain told her he was not open to negotiation. Her focus faded once more, darkness edging her peripheral vision as she fought to hold on to consciousness. She concentrated on the leader. There had to be some hint of his identity, some affiliation that might betray his employer. Her family had many enemies, yet few who were willing to openly incur the wrath of a world as trade wealthy as Salazar. Nothing in their dress or manner hinted at the origin of these men. The follower, Smitty, was staring at her with ill-concealed interest, the expression in his eyes growing uglier as he forgot his nervousness long enough to run his gaze over her slender figure. Lust wafted from him, making her stomach clench with renewed fear. The dark gaze of Cayo betrayed no emotion, no mercy—a complete lack of empathy, which frightened her most. Even more than the lustful heat in Smitty’s face. “Who are you?” Rianna covered her rising nausea behind a mask of bravado, forcing herself to concentrate. Fear would only paralyze her. With luck she would find an opportunity to use the small blaster snugged in the folds of her flightsuit tunic. She forced her hands to remain still. Acting too soon would be stupid. “I have nothing of value or interest. This is a diplomatic ship of the Zarian realm.” She was careful to give no hint of her rank. Handing these men a potential hostage to be ransomed would be pure folly. Gathering her hauteur around her, Rianna faced off with the leader, mustering every iota of arrogance she was capable of. Concentrating on the leader, she stared into those flat black eyes, willing him to yield to her determination. Pain pierced between her eyes, followed by a curious lightheadedness, as something seemed to give way within her mind. Just as quickly, the pain faded, bringing her focus sharper, clearer.
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For an instant Cayo’s focus appeared to waver and shock shivered through her before he shook off his apparent distraction. “I’m well aware of who I shot down, Your Highness. Feel free to lodge a complaint with the F.O.W.” Both his words and tone held little inflection, not even mockery. Her heart sank. They knew who she was. Kidnapping and ransom had never been their intention. The hesitation she thought she had sensed in Cayo must have been her imagination. There was nothing indecisive about the weapon he held on her. She didn’t dare go for her blaster. She’d never stand a chance. Not yet, anyway. “Don’t take this personally, but you’re just another job,” he continued in an almost conversational tone. Without glancing at his companion, he holstered his blaster. “Cover her.” One hand disappeared inside his flightsuit, drawing out an object. With an expert flick of his wrist, he released a wicked-looking blade. Unable to take her eyes off the knife, Rianna stared at the long gleaming blade with hypnotic fascination, her blood freezing in her veins. Even in these shrouded surroundings the blade flashed with lethal promise. So much for bluffing. Any options she had just vanished. “Pity you didn’t die in the crash, Your Highness.” Cayo inspected the edge of the knife. “Still, there’s always a certain satisfaction in knowing a job is done right. No second guessing this way.” “Why?” Rianna whispered. She was going to die. It was there in his cold, emotionless eyes. She’d been so careless. What had begun as a harmless excursion spiced with a touch of adventure had taken a turn to something far more ugly. She only hoped this latest impulsive escapade was not her final act of defiance. “I don’t question the whys. I’m in it for the money.” The man gestured with the dagger, his tone mild, never changing. “And I will be paid most handsomely for this job.” His casual demeanor suddenly vanished. The knife came up. “Wait a minute.” Rianna had almost forgotten the other man. “We got time, don’ we?” Smitty turned lascivious eyes back on her. “Any reason why little Smitty can’t have some fun first?” He brayed out a raucous laugh as he stroked himself through his flightsuit with an unmistakable crudeness.
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Rianna couldn’t keep disgust from crossing her face. The man laughed harder. “Call it a bonus.” Cayo cast him a look of contempt, but subsided nonetheless, caressing the edge of his blade with anticipation. He stared at Rianna for a long moment before shrugging. “Go ahead.” He gestured toward her. “Just make sure you don’t leave any evidence behind.” Cursing her uncertain balance under her breath, Rianna braced herself as the taller man tossed his weapon to his companion, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes as he advanced on her. Forcing herself to block out her crippling fear, she watched his approach, balancing lightly on the balls of her feet as she readied herself. She’d only get one chance at this. Dizziness threatened once more, but she ignored it, blocking out everything to concentrate on the approaching man. Taking a calming breath, she buried all outside distractions deep within as she centered herself. Her would-be attacker closed the distance between them, his confidence evident in the cockiness of his swagger. She felt a calmness steal over her as she narrowed her concentration, allowing all emotion to float free, releasing her fear and anger until she stepped outside herself. The exercise steadied her nerves and allowed her to view her assailant with a sense of detachment. As if he saw something in her face, he hesitated for an instant, his eyes narrowing with a belated degree of wariness. “Just relax, Yer Highness. You might even enjoy yerself.” Pulling at the tapes holding his flightsuit shut, he loosened his clothing. Lust gleamed in his dark eyes, banishing caution. “I know I will.” Rianna tuned out his words, waiting for him to reach for her before deliberately giving a little cry and shrinking back with a fear which was only half feigned. Anticipation soared as he reached out to grab her. Without warning, her hand snaked out to grasp his arm just below his elbow, using his own momentum to pull him off balance even as she twisted around. The unexpected move brought his face almost level with hers, enabling her to smash an elbow back, putting all of her shoulder and upper body into the blow. His nose exploded in a spray of blood as he staggered but didn’t go down. Ignoring the pain radiating up her arm, she whirled around to foot-sweep his legs out from under him, feeling a fierce sense of satisfaction
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when he lost the remnants of his balance and crashed to the ground. Instinctively, his hands came out to break his fall, his face coming up to stare at her in astonishment. The look on his face might have been comical had she been in a position to appreciate it. Swinging around to gain momentum, Rianna swept out her foot to connect with the side of his head with a satisfying solidness. His eyes rolled up in his head and he dropped like a stone. Not waiting to see if he was unconscious or merely stunned, Rianna went for her weapon, but even as her fingers touched the grip of the little blaster she felt cold steel press against her throat. Immediately she went motionless. “Don’t move,” a voice hissed close to her ear, the razor sharp edge of metal brushing her vulnerable flesh. “Don’t do anything stupid and move your hands to where I can see them.” Rianna closed her eyes, but did not take her hand away from her weapon. Moving with care, she tried to ease a little distance between herself and the dagger. Drawing a deep breath would probably slit her own throat. “At least tell me who and why,” she whispered. She would not plead. Could not bring herself to grovel. Even as she began to draw the little blaster, she knew she would never pull it free in time. Either way, she was dead. She drew a final breath as she waited for the sharp bite of the blade across her throat. Nothing happened. A split second passed. The blade left her throat and from behind her came the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh before something heavy dropped to the ground. Her eyes flew open and she swung around, her head swirling with renewed dizziness. When her vision cleared she found her assailant stretched out on the ground, either lifeless or unconscious, she couldn’t tell from where she stood. Then she saw the man standing over the body. He was close enough that she was able to see him through the mistiness surrounding him. Stunned, she noted his height as her gaze traveled up the length of him, lingering without conscious thought on the narrowness of hip and breadth of chest before continuing. Handsome, with clean, classical features tanned to a deep bronze and framed by thick auburn hair which fell over his shoulder to trail down his chest. He was simply dressed in leather trousers and white shirt opened to reveal a sprinkling of dark chest hair. Power
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clung to him, a tangible vitality she could feel even from where she stood. He was stunning—by far the most incredible-looking man she had ever seen. Slowly he moved toward her, his eyes capturing and holding her attention. A mesmerizing golden amber, they were fringed with thick black lashes. The intensity of his gaze held hers, hypnotic. Rianna found herself staring into them, falling into their depths as the world dropped from beneath her feet. She didn’t know how, but as impossible as it seemed, she knew this man. Something deep within her recognized him. Even knowing he was a complete stranger, she couldn’t shake off the conviction. She was inexplicably drawn to him. Her world narrowed to that penetrating gaze, everything else, even the danger still surrounding her, fell away. Without thought, she leaned toward him, forgetting the body stretched out between them, forgetting the man she had disabled. Nothing else mattered. Rianna didn’t know what she might have done or said as sharp pain again dug into her mind and dizziness swept over her. Blackness edged her vision until she had to fight to cling to consciousness. Reaching out toward him, she instinctively sought his strength as the world threatened to spin out of control. His warm hands took hers, anchoring her. With determination she fought off the desire to close her eyes and sink into oblivion, clinging to him with a need bordering on desperation. Her gaze was held by the golden heat of his as she became conscious of a tickling sensation at the back of her mind. It was a fragile bubble of awareness hovering just beyond her reach, tantalizing and elusive. As she stared into his eyes, she felt it flare to life, a pressure building in her head, its strength growing by the second. The world steadied. “Come.” His dark voice possessed a purring quality. He continued to hold her hands, those amber eyes encouraging, compelling her to accompany him. Commanding. Rianna hesitated, tearing her gaze away from his to flicker downward to the figure of the man lying at her feet. Absently she realized that the fog was dissipating, allowing her a fairly clear view of her assailant where he lay among the crushed vegetation. She couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive. Did it matter?
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“You need not worry about him. The one called Cayo will trouble you no more.” The stranger spoke Basic with a lilting accent, deep and musical. The tantalizing tone curled around her nerve endings to feather down her spine until something deep within her responded to that seductive purr. “There was one other. We must not linger.” Jhaan stared deeply into her eyes as he prepared a simple compulsion to ensure her cooperation. As he built the command, he allowed himself the pleasure of tracing the delectable curves of her face with his gaze. Following feminine lines to fall into the snare of mysterious green eyes, noting the intriguing manner in which they slanted upward. He felt a stirring deep within, his heart’s tempo accelerating until his blood pounded in his ears. It was like nothing he had felt before. Tentatively he opened his psychic Talent fully to her. With a gentle touch he tested the mental paths of the female, tuning into the cadences of her subconsciousness, seeking to enforce her compliance. Instead, it was he who was caught. The instant he fully dropped his shields, her mind reached out and snared his. Unexpectedly, her mental patterns laced with his, meshing with perfection. For a moment he stopped breathing as the full impact of her psi compatibility seeped into his consciousness. This was not possible! No woman outside of Dakar possessed the psychic capability to match that of a male of his world. It was unheard of. Shock held him immobile. His thoughts scattered like thistle on the wind. Rianna frowned with growing perplexity as odd impressions swirled through her mind, dancing at the edges of her peripheral consciousness. There was a sense of tearing, another brief flash of excruciating pain before it was gone, leaving her disorientated. For just a moment it was almost as if she could feel his sense of shocked discovery before it melted into a heated attraction and finally faded into a sense of acceptance. For endless seconds the man stared into her eyes, seemingly blind and deaf to his surroundings, too stunned to move. That moment of perfect recognition was abruptly shattered when a rustle of movement behind her drew her attention. With great effort she tore her gaze away and turned, her hand diving into the folds of her tunic to pull her small weapon from its concealment. Their
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unexpected connection had been so startling, so unexpected that they had forgotten about the man she had disabled. Smitty stumbled to his feet, swaying with drunken disorientation before his eyes found his fallen companion. Rage crossed his face before he turned on the small woman who had taken him out so effortlessly. Blood still ran down his lower face from his ruined nose, lending it a sense of brutish violence. “I’m gonna kill you, bitch!” Menace emanated from him as he advanced on her, hesitating when he noticed the tall warrior. Noting the lack of a weapon in the hands of this new threat, fierce satisfaction blossomed in his eyes. Smitty’s lips drew back in a parody of a smile even as he darted a hand toward his boot to pull out a lethal-looking blade. Rianna felt his confidence flare as he expertly reversed the blade with the intention of launching it straight at the chest of her rescuer. His biggest mistake was taking his eyes off her, dismissing her as a threat. She never hesitated. Even as he drew his arm back to throw, she brought up her weapon and in one smooth motion took aim and gently squeezed the trigger as she had been taught. The little weapon fired, striking the man full in the chest, the force of the blast flinging him backwards to disappear into the tall grasses. Everything fell silent once more. Horrified and sickened, Rianna slowly dropped her arm. She had never fired upon another living creature before, much less killed one. Her practice had always been on inanimate targets, things that did not wear a brief look of stunned surprise before being overtaken by death. The little blaster suddenly felt heavy in her hand. Repulsive. Nothing moved but the gentle sway of the grasses, remaining tendrils of fog flowing forward to mute the swatch of vegetation. She swallowed hard, her stomach tightening as nausea threatened. The Dakarian came to stand beside her, his gaze following hers. When Rianna turned to look up at him, she saw a gleam of approval in those amber eyes, a savage satisfaction. “Well done,” he said, his eyes clearly reassessing his initial impression of her as she stood frozen at his side.
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“Well done?” Rianna repeated in a tight voice, disbelief threatening to overwhelm her. “I just killed a man and all you can say is well done?” Perplexity was clear in those riveting golden eyes. “He would have killed you, my lady. You reacted in the only manner open to you.” Somehow his calm acceptance of the fact that she had just killed a man, even if it was in self-defense, did not sit well with her. That this was one of the fabled savage Dakarians was without a doubt. The fierceness of their reputation was well earned. “A third man remained with their ship,” the stranger said, forcing Rianna to focus on him. “He may yet work up the nerve to come in search of his companions.” No sooner had he spoken than the stillness was shattered by the sound of powerful engines. With a majestic grace, the pirate ship rose over the tall grasses, swimming briefly into view through the mist before streaking off into the cloud cover, vanishing from sight.
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Chapter Two Jhaan watched the ship vanish from view, keeping his expression blank. Concentrating on the now empty sky was impossible. His gaze slid to the small figure beside him as he gave in to his need and turned to study her. His woman. His mate. The one for whom he had been searching the past two cycles— longer. Since reaching his age of majority. While her focus remained on the sky, Jhaan indulged himself, running his gaze over her captivating face, lingering on the winged brows flaring over large, emerald green eyes framed by impossibly long lashes. His fingers itched to bury themselves into the luxurious mass of black hair curling down her back. His eyes continued downward, skimming briefly over a long pale throat visible within the folds of the overlarge flightsuit. He ached to tear away the encompassing garment, needing to see the full extent of his treasure. Mercilessly thorough, his gaze missed nothing. Not the luscious curve of her lips, the high cheeks, his brief glimpse of those haunting eyes. The territorial male in him went on alert, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath, drawing in her feminine scent, savoring it. His breath caught as his blood heated, racing through his veins to slam into his heart. The unfamiliar taste of desire tightened his body, rising in a fiery conflagration, constricting his throat until he could barely breathe. The experience was so alien that he was unable to move, unable to unlock tense muscles. It rolled over him, through him in an undulating wave. Confusion swamped him before he forced his mind to function. It took Jhaan a moment to recognize the sensation for what it was. Passion. Unbridled. Hot. Demanding. The urge to touch her, both physically and mentally, was almost uncontrollable. He needed the contact like a starving man craved sustenance, but not yet. Not yet. The time was not right. He had to restrain himself until the Linking Ceremony could be performed. He could not risk her with a flawed link, not now that he had found her. Too much hung in the balance. 20
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Even through his heightened discomfort, Jhaan felt a flicker of amusement. Such a climactic moment and he didn’t even know her name. Wrenching his eyes away from the woman, he forced himself to concentrate once more on the skies, but there was little to see. It was difficult to remind himself that the danger was not yet passed. Their immediate situation was still precarious. He had failed her earlier. He had been so bombarded with the unfamiliar emotions blossoming to life, he had ignored the continued threat to her life. Still, here was a woman able to defend herself. To react in an instant. There was a sense of great strength and determination beneath that delicate facade. Admiration flared but he contained it as caution ruled. The third man might yet work up the nerve to return for an aerial assault. He had failed her once. He would not do so again. For a long tense moment, silence reigned unbroken by the creatures of Dakar. Finally, one by one, small chirps, peeps and cries resumed, echoing in the blanketing fog, reassuring in its normalcy. The skies remained empty. Satisfaction colored his thoughts. Evidently the illusion he had released earlier had successfully taken root within the ratin-man’s psyche, causing him to flee the planet rather than await the return of his companions. No matter. He turned once more to the woman, drinking in the pure lines of her profile. She was still staring off after the now-vanished vessel, a frown furrowing her brows as she continued to search the skies. Although he could not yet allow a full marriage of their psychic compatibility, Jhaan had little trouble reading her anxiety, her lingering fear and finally her perplexity. “Why didn’t he attack?” she muttered under her breath. The sound of her voice triggered a responsive chord in him, heightening his awareness. The gaze she turned on him held only curiosity. “He could have blasted us to dust.” “Perhaps his cowardice got the better of him,” Jhaan said absently. Now that the immediate danger had passed, he was at leisure to turn his attention on the woman who had caused him to stray from his path. Whatever cosmic entity guaranteed that he would be in this particular place at this particular time had his heartfelt gratitude. He never would have suspected the female he had been searching for would turn out to be an alien.
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There was no mistake. What his unfamiliar desires were telling him made it possible. She was his psi-mate! Rare, women were highly prized on Dakar, as unattainable as the distant stars if a psychic link did not exist. Until the male located the one woman who matched him psychically, he was considered sterile, possessing neither desire nor ability to mate or procreate. A man could spend his entire life seeking that single woman, all too often without success. His pilgrimage had taken him through countless hamlets and towns of Dakar, scouring the cities, often on the verge of burning himself out with the continuous effort of reaching out to unattached women, searching for the one. His efforts had thus far been unsuccessful, each time ending in crushing failure. As a member of the ruling family, it was mandatory that Jhaan locate his mate before his thirty-fifth cycle. If unmatched, he would not only have been declared sterile, but disqualified from ascending the throne of Dakar. A harsh law, but a necessary one. Meeting his mate under these circumstances was a most unexpected development. Rianna slowly allowed herself to relax, aware for the first time how tense she had been. Bizarre thoughts and sensations were swirling through her mind, increasing with each passing moment. Oddly enough, she was almost certain those impressions were coming from the man at her side. Stranger yet, rather than feeling threatened, she found herself savoring the experience, almost tasting it on her tongue. She felt a hot, heavy sensation pooling in the pit of her stomach. Was this a delayed reaction because of her close brush with death? Feeling the force of his gaze, she mentally steeled herself to turn her head, aware he had been studying her for several moments. The intensity of his gaze sent chills chasing over her skin. Time stood still as she lost herself in those golden depths and the world narrowed to the two of them. For the moment, nothing else mattered. A distant rustling in the tall grasses didn’t register as she indulged herself in this visionary treat. Yes, he was by far the most incredible man she had ever seen. Her years in the Zarian court had exposed her to countless men more handsome, more charming. Yet there was something about this man that pulled at her. Drew her into a snare of unfamiliar heat.
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“Jhaan?” The voice behind Rianna was unexpected, startling a small cry out of her as she whirled around to find another stranger standing a scant distance away holding the reins of two immense creatures. Instinctively she brought the blaster up and trained it on him. He halted, his expression cautious as his glance went to the tall man at her side before sliding back to her, watching her with unblinking blue eyes. He was much younger than the first man, nearly as tall, not quite as filled out. He glanced once more at her rescuer before rattling off a spate of words in a language unfamiliar to her. “Basic, Markin,” the man at her side instructed as he reached over her shoulder and calmly removed her weapon from her hands. “Please speak in Basic.” “Hey!” Rianna made a grab for her weapon, only to have it held out of her reach. Subsiding without a word, she refused to dignify his highhanded action by leaping about in an attempt to regain possession of her blaster. Given his superior height, it would be an uneven contest and would only succeed in making her look the fool. “I’d prefer you did not kill my companion, m’lady,” the Dakarian said as he calmly checked the safety. “Although irritating at times, Markin does not deserve to be shot.” Rianna hesitated before returning her gaze to the younger man. There was little doubt that he, too, was one of those elusive Dakarians. Those savage beings whispered about in hushed tones, virtually unknown, yet reputed to be barbaric. They were fiercely protective of their privacy, even the Trade Consortium was unwelcome on Dakar. The Federation of Worlds barely held any sway over them. How would they react to her trespassing? She didn’t get a sense of threat from them. She had long ago learned to trust her instincts. They were rarely wrong. The younger man—Markin?—continued to watch her with a gleam of curiosity in his deep blue eyes, his slight smile holding a wealth of good humor. A slouched hat was pushed back, revealing pale wavy hair which fell well past his shoulders. Although he was closer to her in age, there was something lacking in him that the older man possessed in abundance.
“This is the pilot of the downed ship?” Markin continued to speak in Dakarian, deeming it prudent while discussing the lady. He noted the bodies of the two men, but paid them little heed.
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The larger ship had departed just as he arrived and he had assumed that the aliens were fleeing Dakar. Evidently far more had occurred than he first suspected. When his prince did not answer, Markin’s fascinated gaze left the woman and turned on Jhaan, finding his attention firmly fixed on the alien. Another quick glance at the woman showed her reaching up to scrape back the rich abundance of hair before rolling her shoulders in an attempt to relieve a lingering tension. Jhaan’s eyes never left her for an instant, but the brief glimpse Markin got of his friend’s expression showed an unmistakable flare of sensuous heat. While he appreciated the fact that the stranger was an attractive woman, she did not possess that special connection Markin would one day be searching for. Another glance at Jhaan aroused his suspicions as to the importance this woman must hold for his prince. His jaw dropped. Was this possible? “Jhaan?” With a clearly obvious effort, Jhaan pulled his gaze from the woman. Markin called his name once more before Jhaan’s eyes regained their focus. “Is this woman the one? Can this be possible?” “Yes.” Jhaan’s voice was rough, his expression betraying the strain he was experiencing. “She is the one.” Markin allowed a smile to spread across his face, aware that the woman was looking from one to the other with growing confusion. Dropping the reins of the sirahs, he advanced on Jhaan to pull him into a warm embrace, his delight knowing no bounds. “Congratulations, Jhaan. This is cause for celebration.” Rianna watched the two men with amazement. She surmised her rescuer’s name must be Jhaan, but other than that, she understood nothing of their exchange. The Dakarian language held a lilting tone that triggered a response along her nerve endings. Damn! Even without understanding him, his seductive tone sent erotic sensations ricocheting throughout her body. Aware of his fixed attention, she knew he was staring at her with undisguised interest. Yet she took no offense. If anything, she found his single-minded focus strangely exhilarating. She could almost feel his surge of interest, causing something deep within her to uncurl in response. She shook her head in an attempt to snap out of her reverie. The incautious movement set her head spinning once more. With the rush of adrenaline slowly dissipating, she was reminded
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that she had more than likely sustained a head injury during her unscheduled landing on Dakar, making her wonder if it was more serious than she originally thought. Raising her hand to her head, she carefully inspected her scalp, searching for the area where she had struck her head. When her fingers brushed over a tender area concealed by the sweep of hair over her forehead, a wave of pain washed over her. It was an effort to maintain consciousness as dizziness threatened to overwhelm her once more. “I’d like to thank you.” Taking a deep breath of the thick, lush air, she tried to relax, to ride the wave of pain. Jhaan’s unblinking golden gaze sent a different sort of dizziness shimmering through her. His eyes possessed the patient stillness of a feline, right down to their color. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead.” His smile revealed a slight dimple in one corner of his mouth. “It was my pleasure, my lady.” Abruptly his expression hardened as his glance went to her forehead. “You are injured.” Without waiting for her consent, he slid an arm around her waist. It didn’t occur to Rianna to protest when he urged her farther away from her ship. The feel of his arm around her sent a new shaft of heat through her, centering in her belly and spreading outward. What was the matter with her? Rianna tried to ignore this unfamiliar reaction to a virtual stranger. She had far too many problems without adding an attraction to a man chance had thrown across her path. She flung one last glance over her shoulder in the general direction of her still-smoldering ship, the incautious movement causing the world to sway once more before righting itself. “But…” She dug in her heels, forcing him to stop. She was reluctant to leave her ship. Damaged as it was, it still represented an anchor of sorts. Something familiar. Had the homing beacon of her ship engaged? She hadn’t had time to check before she escaped the wreck. “The assassin ship may return.” The Dakarian urged her forward once more. “Greed is a very strong incentive. It may overcome fear.” He glanced toward the younger man, barking out several words. Markin gave a start and immediately scrambled to retrieve the reins of the two equine creatures and hastened after them, their route taking them farther from the downed craft.
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Gaining the shelter of the forest, Rianna again hesitated. Was she being a complete fool to entrust her safety to these two strangers? Did she have a choice? Glancing up into those amber eyes, the blackness surrounding her peripheral vision threatened to edge forward once more. Only half cognitive to her actions, she reached out her free hand, curving her fingers against his hard cheek, her lips parting. Swaying slightly, she leaned towards him until his warm breath feathered against her lips. Her eyes dropped to the firm line of his mouth even as her vision clouded and she passed out.
Jhaan caught her easily in his arms. Worry ate at him as he cradled her body close. Without hesitation he sent out a stream of his Talent to delve her, inspecting the severity of her injuries. His relief was palpable when he detected the strength of her psi patterns. The healing Talent may not be strong within him, but as her psi-mate, he possessed an added strength to aid in her physical restoration. “Is she all right?” Markin asked from close behind him. He secured the sirahs to a low hanging branch before hastily removing a canteen from one of the saddle bags. Without being told, he found a soft cloth and wet it with the tepid water then offered it to Jhaan. Jhaan did not answer. His gaze traveled over the woman’s face to where the length of hair fell away from her forehead to reveal a thin stream of dried blood running down one side of her face, vivid against the paleness of her skin. Eyes narrowed, he inspected the cut edging her scalp. The wound itself did not appear serious, but the bruising surrounding it betrayed evidence of head trauma. Not something to be taken lightly. Holding her carefully, he lowered her to the ground before accepting the damp cloth from Markin to carefully bathe her wound. “I do not think it is serious. I suspect the injury and the trauma of the morning have taken its toll.” With gentle hands he pressed the cloth to the swelling area of her injury. Jhaan paused as his mind worked furiously, considering and rejecting several plans before coming to a decision. “I need to get to Dionne City without delay. Take your sirah and go on ahead. I am charging you with making certain everything is readied for the Linking Ceremony before we arrive. I have little time remaining and cannot delay for even a day.”
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Markin’s hesitation was brief before he untied his sirah and swung up into the saddle. His troubled glance went to the figure of the woman lying in the arms of his prince. “She is an alien, Jhaan,” he stated the obvious, uneasiness coloring his tone. At Jhaan’s impatient glance, he carefully elaborated. “She is ignorant of our customs and will not understand the significance of the Linking Ceremony. What it will mean to her future.” “I know. Let me worry about that.” Markin was correct to voice the potential ramifications of initiating an alien woman to the Linking Ceremony of Dakar. To his knowledge, it had never been done before. Yet he could not take a chance of her refusal. Too much hinged on his success. He had little choice but to keep her in ignorance. “Now go!” Shaking his head, Markin turned his mount in the direction of Dionne City, urging the beast into motion. He quickly vanished into the thick barrier of trees. Jhaan ignored his departure, his entire focus on the woman in his arms as he finished bathing her face. He didn’t want to admit even to himself how right Markin was. Gazing at his psi-mate’s face, he knew he would do anything to ensure their union. Without further delay, he picked her up and made his way to his mount. For the first time since beginning his pilgrimage, he wished for a transport rather than a sirah. A pilgrimage was better conducted by ground rather than by air and he’d had no way of knowing what fate would fling into his path. The sirah turned intelligent eyes on him, extending his downy soft muzzle to inspect the woman in his arms, drawing in the scent of the female. Similar in body to the equestrians of old Terra, the sirah possessed a long narrow tail not unlike that of a feline while the various shades of his long silky coat allowed it to blend in with their surroundings. Returning its dark liquid gaze to Jhaan, the beast tossed his head, allowing his companion to swing himself into the saddle, his burden carefully cradled before him. The woman’s head rested back against Jhaan, her cheek pressed to the hard planes of his chest. He could feel the gentle exhalation of her breath against his skin where his shirt parted. His mouth tightened as renewed desire slammed into him. Every inch of his flesh felt sensitized, reacting to her nearness.
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Without urging, the sirah started off, moving with a dainty grace through the foliage until they gained the hard-packed road leading to Dionne City. His rocking gait was so smooth that he seemed to flow rather than walk, little sound betraying their passing. Jhaan pressed his cheek against the woman’s hair, breathing in her scent, savoring her warmth. It was a miracle he had found her at last. He had all but given up hope, accepting the advent of his failure. He allowed a smile to curve his lips as one thought moved to the next. As soon as the formalities were met in Dionne City, his pilgrimage would be considered successful, leaving him free to return to his family and home. With something akin to joy, he mentally caressed the lines of the woman’s consciousness, luxuriating in the strong chemistry flaring between them. It was incredible. Unbelievable. Never in his life had he met anyone so in tune with him. His body tightened with growing anticipation. Taught from birth to cherish and protect a woman with his life if necessary, Jhaan had never felt such an overpowering attraction for any one woman. His breath caught when she stirred, pressing her face into the hollow of his throat. Murmuring, her lips parted and slid along the side of his throat, making his body clench with further torment. The touch of her mouth against his skin sent erotic sensations ricocheting throughout his body. For an instant he closed his eyes against the intense pleasure of her lips against his skin, wondering how he was going to survive until the Linking Ceremony. Already, every passing moment was proving to be an indescribable torment. The journey was a test in self-endurance but Jhaan did not allow himself to rest until they were several hours from the crash site. Only when he was certain that no one would be able to follow did he guide the sirah from the road to halt within the trees. Dismounting, he cradled his prize close before moving farther into the forest. With gentle hands, he deposited her onto a bed of soft feather grass. The slight weight of her body crushed the fragile vegetation, releasing its soothing scent into the air. The fog lingered, preventing the weak rays of late afternoon sunlight from breaking through to the mossy forest floor. A myriad of sounds rang out, the soft murmur of a nearby stream vying with the musical call of numerous birds as they darted through the trees.
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Despite such tranquil surroundings, Jhaan sent out a scan as a precaution, meticulously identifying and cataloging each and every life force he sensed. Only when he was satisfied there was nothing threatening in their vicinity did he relax his guard and return his attention to the unconscious woman. Jhaan sank down beside her, brushing her hair from her face, careful to avoid the head wound. He did not waste further thought on the high degree of chance that had brought this woman to him. She was here, with him. Nothing else was important. She was not going to be allowed to escape. Out of necessity, the people of Dakar kept to themselves. Trade was limited and aliens were discouraged from landing on Dakar. They had no foreign embassies and in fact, most offworlders seemed to experience a vague sense of unease while planetside. It was a sensation carefully developed and nurtured by the people of Dakar to keep intruders away. Occasionally, select men were sent off planet to learn what they could of other worlds and cultures. Jhaan himself had spent several cycles traveling throughout the galaxy, observing and learning from other races and species. While it had been a fascinating time, he had felt his isolation keenly. Even among a multitude of other beings, both human and not. A powerful telepath, Jhaan had been forced to tamp down and shield much of his ability or risk madness. Without conscious thought, humans tended to broadcast their emotions, often to the point of causing a near psychic overload. A very painful condition. A Dakarian would never be so clumsy as to relay such a barrage of consciousness. Such a loss of control would at best have been an embarrassment. That a woman outside of his world possessed such a strong psychic compatibility opened new avenues for consideration. Even as he smoothed her small hand between his, Jhaan allowed himself to dwell on what this could mean for his people. With countless known worlds in the galaxy there must be other sensitive women who could match the psi ability of the Dakarian male. No longer would the men of Dakar have to go through their lives alone, barren and never experiencing passion. That sense of incompleteness. With care, pilgrimages could be extended beyond Dakar. Along with these thoughts came a myriad of potential problems. Difficult as it was searching all the towns and cities of Dakar, the prospect of extending one’s search throughout the galaxy
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was daunting. During his travels, Jhaan had learned firsthand of the superstitions and distrust the unknown held for otherwise intelligent beings. All of Dakar was aware that if it were known that the people of his planet possessed such superior telepathic abilities, off-planet aliens would likely react with suspicion and fear. While it had occurred in the distant past, no Dakarian, male or female, would voluntarily take over the freewill of another being. Anyone suspected of such a vile deed would be mercilessly dealt with. It would be risky sending males off planet on pilgrimage. Every Dakarian mingling with outsiders increased the threat of discovery. Mishaps were sure to occur. Another option would be to send out searchers to locate women with psychic ability and return them to Dakar. This presented a whole new series of problems, yet with care, it could be done. It had to be done. The survival of his people depended upon it. Jhaan forced himself to put the thought aside. This was speculation better indulged when he was at leisure. Right now he had to ensure the safety of his woman. Her head injury was troubling. She had been unconscious for far too long. The male so honored to find his mate took no chances with her safety, or the safety of any children born of their union. Once the mental link was established between them, nothing short of death could sever it. He pulled a flask from his travel gear and once more dampened the soft cloth to bathe her face with great care. Sliding an arm around her, Jhaan lifted her until she rested against his chest, then he brushed against her consciousness. His worry grew when he received no response from her. Centering his psi Talent, he sent himself outward to travel the paths of her subconscious, sliding through a myriad of impressions and memories until he located the core of her injury. He meditated over the bruising of her brain as he decided the best method of mending this injury. With meticulous care, he reached out for her patterns, surrounding them with a soothing warmth. After several long moments of intense concentration, he withdrew, feeling the strength of her consciousness flare to the edge of wakefulness. “Come, ni maarai,” he murmured softly. “Open your beautiful eyes for me.” His entire focus was centered on this one small woman, drinking in her perfection, teasing his senses until, unable to help himself, he once more opened his psi senses to her. Closing his eyes to better savor the experience, he inhaled sharply as the bands of her consciousness leapt out towards his
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with an unrestrained eagerness. He could almost see the rainbow strands of their psychic energies dancing around each other, just out of reach, tantalizing. The meshing of their minds was going to be exquisite. Perfection. Beyond anything he had ever before experienced. Beyond anything he had ever dared hope for. He watched as delicate black lashes fluttered against pale cheeks before lifting. Silently she stared up at him. For a moment he continued to hold her against him, savoring the press of her body against his, watching as confusion gave way to a wave of desire. Darkening with sensual need, her jeweled eyes gleamed with both intelligence and innocence. The combination was explosive to his senses. The sheer sexual allure of that look sent a responsive wave of lust rolling through him, over him, sweeping him along and making a mockery of any semblance of control he thought he possessed.
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Chapter Three “What happened?” Jhaan watched as the woman’s initial confusion faded and heat sparked to life in her beautiful eyes. Probably in reaction to the emotions he knew he was broadcasting. Her lashes dropped but not before her eyes betrayed her pleasure as he ran a caressing finger down the side of her cheek, sliding over the curve of her lips. “You are safe, ni maarai,” he murmured, his voice husky. “You fainted from…reaction.” His gaze followed the path of his finger, intent as her lips parted against the gentle pressure he exerted. Unable to resist, he dipped his head to feather his lips along the path his finger had forged, relishing the smoothness of her cheek before hovering over her lips. He hesitated, drawing out the moment until a moan of mounting hunger slipped from her lips. All restraint vanished as his mouth captured hers with a burning hunger, sampling, enticing. His lips parted hers, capturing her involuntary gasp of rising desire and sweeping his tongue into the velvety interior of her mouth. His hands tightened at her waist, her sweet taste inflaming his senses to send his lust soaring. His body clenched with desire as he felt her awkward, tentative response. Her soft lips answered the call of his, shyly returning his caresses. Her innocent sigh of passion filled his senses, further straining his resolve. His body wanted hers, demanded that he complete their union without delay. Wrenching his mouth from hers, Jhaan rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he fought for control. The effort of reining in his passion was almost painful. Waiting was agony. Yet he had no choice. It was imperative that the Linking Ceremony be performed. Without it, their mind link was incomplete, endangering them both. His resolve was tested when she lifted one hand to touch the side of his face with trembling fingers. The light brush against his cheek made him clench his teeth before he carefully eased her down onto the feather grass.
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“I apologize, my lady.” Unable to completely release her, he brushed her hair back. As he watched, the fog of desire faded from her eyes, replaced by mortification. Color stained her cheeks as she edged out from under him, putting some distance between them. Jhaan emptied his face of expression, aware that his eyes still glowed with heated desire. “Tell me that didn’t just happen,” she begged, avoiding his glance. “I don’t know what got into me—you’re a stranger.” Putting her hands to her cheeks, she avoided his glance. “I am betrothed!” All semblance of passion vanished as Jhaan went still. The slight smile playing across his lips during her breathless tirade abruptly vanished. Something deep within him came alive, rearing its head, suddenly alert. His expression must have turned dangerous because she made a faint sound of alarm. Giving no warning, his palms firmly caught and framed her face as his mind ruthlessly delved hers, scanning, seeking—learning. Such an invasion of another’s consciousness was an unthinkable breach of courtesy, yet he did not hesitate. He would have his answers. The territorial male in him slipped free of his constraint in light of this threat. No man had the right to claim this woman. She was his! In the space of heartbeats, he familiarized himself with the cadences of her mind, expertly skimming over surface emotions to weave in and out of the memories stored deeper within. Her expression smoothed into befuddlement as her eyes slowly lost focus. His heart contracted as he read the aching loneliness of her upbringing. The restrictions forced upon her by her society. The sense of injustice over her expected role in life. A resentment of being viewed as a second-class citizen based solely on her gender. He lingered over the many hurts she had endured as a child and young woman. The rejection after rejection suffered at the hands of an uncaring father, until she grew to blame herself, viewing herself as unworthy of love. Her emergence into puberty passed with little fanfare, where her constant companions became an old retired soldier who took an interest in the lonely young girl and her aunt who was too intimidated by her brother to demonstrate open affection. The attentions of her friend, Konen Barra, allowed her to finally overcome her sense of inadequacies and her true character to emerge. Without the knowledge or the consent of her
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father, she convinced Konen to train her in the arts of weaponry and self-defense. In the withdrawn young girl the old soldier found an apt pupil, possessing a strong desire to prove her worth,to prove herself just as capable as any man. Jhaan was pleased to discover the woman who emerged in possession of a strong resilience as well as a stubborn determination to hold her own in a paternalistic world. Her refusal to be overshadowed by the demands of the male members of her family, confirmed that strength. Savoring the freedom of the contact, Jhaan examined every facet, noting a quirky sense of humor, a wit she was often forced to submerge behind a demure facade. A sense of honor that burned brightly in her mind along with her intelligence. Tempted as he was to further examine these enchanting attributes, he forced himself to concentrate on locating the information he sought. He was startled to realize he knew the man she was betrothed to. Saris A’Sarah was not reputed to be a man of good character. Lingering, he sought the arrangements being made for her life by a family who did not seek her consent, nor her input. A sense of relief swept over him. The betrothal was not of her choice. She did not enter into it voluntarily. Nor had it been finalized. Realizing that she was staring up at him with bemusement, he disentangled himself with lingering reluctance. The meshing with her consciousness had been an aphrodisiac, a narcotic that left him hungering for more. Releasing her with a gentle suggestion to block out and forget the last few moments, Jhaan put a slight distance between them. He watched as the dazed look faded and her expression sharpened with new awareness.
Rianna blinked with some confusion, a frown furrowing her brow. She could have sworn he had been closer, within touching distance. Now there was a meter or so between them. When had he moved away? And hadn’t he grabbed her just a second ago? The thought was fuzzy and drifted away even as she tried to grasp it.
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“I know you are not permissive, my lady,” Jhaan responded to her earlier assertion. “I must accept the blame of what has just occurred.” The glance he slanted her was deliberately smoldering. “I will not, however, apologize.” The gleam in his eyes sparked an answering reaction and heat again flooded her cheeks. Outrageous man! Something about his blatantly unrepentant manner invited a shared humor. A reluctant smile curved her lips at his flagrant provocation. Despite the intimacy they had just shared, she still did not feel a sense of threat. Staring up into his golden gaze, she reached deep within her for the sixth sense that had allowed her to accurately judge people in the past. Her instinct told her to trust him. Perhaps it was the steadiness of his eyes as they met hers or the way he had placed himself in danger when he came to her aid. Never had she felt such an immediate connection with another person. Her smile faded as she dwelled on the strength of her attraction to this man. Not that anything could come of it, of course. She knew where her duty lay, yet despite herself, she was physically drawn to him. He was wildly gorgeous, no question there. She sensed the depth of his honor. Yes, she did trust him! For Rianna that one fact was intriguing. Court life had been a harsh education where one did not know whom to trust. She had learned early on to rely upon her intuition. There was a steadiness in his gaze, a sense of character just beyond her touch that invited her trust. Tearing her gaze from his, Rianna forced herself to turn her attention on her surroundings, conscious for the first time of the near silence. A rising breeze began sifting through the fog, dispersing it to tattered tendrils. Everywhere she looked she found trees, and more trees. The effect was at the same time eerie and beautiful. Had her position not been so precarious, she might have appreciated the incredible beauty encircling her. Drawing a deep breath, she inhaled the rich, damp air deep into her lungs. After a full day of canned oxygen, the fresh air of Dakar was a delight. Gazing off into the lush greenery, Rianna didn’t have a clue as to where she was. Everywhere she looked she found an abundance of vegetation she had never guessed existed.
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Massive ferns swayed gently at the edges of the forest floor before melting into towering trees which seemed to rise forever. The jingle of a harness drew her eyes to the deepening shadows. It took a moment for her to pick out the creature lying half concealed in the thick brush. It was easy to see why she had overlooked the beast. Dabbled with various shades of gray ranging from shadowy white to a near black, it blended easily with the gathering gloom. A simple leather harness was fitted over its long head while a more ornate saddle was cinched around its long back. Both showed signs of extensive use. As if sensing Rianna’s interest, the creature raised its head and looked directly at her, his dark, liquid eyes returning her stare with a thorough one of his own. The intelligence in that direct gaze was almost disconcerting. Glancing away, she absently noted travel gear slung over a nearby branch. What had she read about Dakar while searching for a refuge? The F.O.W. database had something about it being an underdeveloped world with little by way of resources. From the moment of her attack, Rianna had been forced to concentrate on locating a habitable planet in order to make use of the superior maneuverability of her ship. Her attention had been split between evading the pulsar blasts and reading as fast as she could. Although she had assumed her assailants were pirates, it was highly unusual for brigands to prey on such a small ship. They had to have known by the Talon class craft she was flying that it was unlikely to contain anything by way of value. Which left either kidnappers or assassins. Either way, it had been a safe bet that whoever occupied that ship did not mean her well—a fact proven a short time ago. Her choices had been severely limited in this particular sector of the galaxy. There had been only one planet in this entire quadrant where she might possibly find refuge—Dakar. She frowned as she recalled the scarcity of data. Despite the F.O.W.’s normally thorough research, little was actually known about Dakar other than it was a backwater of a world populated by a warrior-type people. Since it possessed few valuable resources, the planet was of scant interest to the main space-faring worlds that comprised the Federation of Worlds.
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A glance at her surroundings did nothing to dispel the notion of an untamed wilderness. Lush as only a rainforest could be, the growth surrounding them was an explosion of life and color, the warm evening air redolent with the sweet scent of countless flowers opening with the advent of twilight. The perfume wafting through the air was both rich and exotic. There was nothing controlled or manicured about this jungle. Vegetation of every description grew in riotous abundance, creating an intimate atmosphere to enclose them within its embrace. The remaining sunlight filtered down through the branches to hit the forest floor in a myriad of deepening shadows. A swirl of countless flying insects flitted through the beams of light. The absolute absence of manmade sound was almost disconcerting. This was a forest primeval— completely untamed. By the deepening shadows, Rianna realized she was missing a slice of time out of her life. Her ship had gone down in the late morning, planet time. Dim pinpoints of light were already beginning to appear overhead. Confusion clouded her mind as she realized that she no longer felt ill. The earlier dizziness and nausea had completely faded. Then she noticed that the wreckage of her ship was nowhere to be seen. “We are some distance from where you crashed, ni harai,” the Dakarian told her even before she could ask. “It was too dangerous to remain in the vicinity.” He reached out to smooth a strand of hair behind her ear with gentle fingers. His sudden movement startled her and she flinched, bringing a slight smile to those masculine lips. “Here.” He held out a water flask. When she eyed it cautiously he shrugged. “It’s merely water, my lady.” Searching his expression, Rianna saw his eyes narrow for an instant before a sense of peace stole over her. “Drink.” Rianna accepted the canteen without further thought. About to raise it to her lips, she hesitated. Was she being completely naive in putting her trust in a stranger? Surreptitiously, she sniffed the contents of the container before raising it to her lips. Although tepid, the water
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running over her tongue was refreshing and she drank greedily, allowing a trickle of liquid to escape down her chin. Wiping the excess with her fingers she ran her tongue over her lips to capture the remaining moisture. “Thank you,” she murmured. His unwavering regard succeeded in flustering her further. Those incredible golden eyes had been centered on the line of her throat, sliding upward to trace the movement of her lips, flaring with renewed interest. Despite herself, she felt an answering response. Her mind played back to that kiss they shared. A kiss she’d had no business enjoying. To regain her balance, she made a point of glancing around once more, for the first time realizing that she had seen only one riding creature. The other was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the young Dakarian. She was alone with this intriguing man. A new blush mounted her cheeks as she again recalled the earlier kiss. She should be feeling relief that there had been no one to witness her indiscreet behavior. “Where is your companion?” “Markin rode ahead. He will contact the authorities of Dionne to report both the pirate intrusion and of your safety. I assume you have family who would be concerned.” A bitter amusement twisted her lips. Her aunt would worry, of course. Her uncle’s only concern would be the betrothal arrangements. Perhaps he would be concerned for her personal safety. Maybe. Saris? Who knew. The man had spoken a scant dozen or so words to her since their meeting. For a prospective groom, he exhibited little interest in her. Her attention returned to the man kneeling before her, noting that his heated glance had not strayed. His fixation was becoming disconcerting. “Do you have a name?” she rushed on a bit breathlessly, hoping to distract him. “Jhaan.” The huskiness of his deep voice sent a responsive shiver down her spine. “Jhaan san deCain. And you are…?” “Rianna Chartier.” Deliberately, she neglected to give her rank. Despite her instinctive trust of this man, she really had no idea who he was, what his political affiliations might be. “I’d like to thank you for your aid.”
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He waved one hand, his gesture dismissive. She felt again that curious brushing against her consciousness, that near awareness. A sense of growing anticipation, at once intriguing and beguiling. Rianna had the fanciful notion that it was coming from Jhaan san deCain. He gave her a slight smile, drawing her attention to the faint twist of well sculpted lips. Standing, he extended a hand to her. “It was my pleasure to…how does that old Earth saying go? Help a damsel in distress.” His deepening smile warmed those amber eyes to the color of rich honey, enchanting her. Rianna found herself staring up at him, almost mesmerized. “There is, however, the question as to why those men wished to harm you,” he continued, snapping her out of her distraction. It took a moment to reorganize her thoughts. Briefly she considered identifying herself, but found herself hesitating. Although she was certain he held no physical threat for her, at least not of the violent sort, she found herself enjoying her newfound nonentity. For the first time in her life she was not a princess of Salazar, but rather an ordinary person. There was no practiced charm or hidden political agenda evident in this man. Rianna decided that she rather liked that. “I…I’m not sure why they would have attacked me.” Her eyes slid away from his as she struggled to control her expression. She was a lousy liar. “I fear they were pirates intent on hijacking my ship.” “Perhaps,” he agreed, but she got a sense of amusement. His hand remained outstretched. “It was a valuable ship. They must have thought you were carrying a precious cargo.” His easy agreement made her wonder at his knowledge of space-faring ships. Jhaan’s belief that a Talon class ship held any type of value to warrant a pirate attack reinforced her research that Dakar was a primitive planet. “We should continue on our way.” His words caused her to glance around at the deepening shadows. “Night falls slowly at this time of year,” he continued. “We still have a few hours of daylight remaining in which to travel. Dionne is the nearest town of any size. Markin should arrive there tomorrow. We, however, will need to travel a bit slower.”
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He stood, waiting with his hand still outstretched as she hesitated, debating the pros and cons of accompanying him, of placing her trust in him. She struggled to keep her expression blank as she searched his face. Again she had that sense of trust, of honor in this man. Decision made, Rianna reached for his hand. As his large palm closed warmly over her small one, something clicked in her mind. Something right. She felt a sense of satisfaction radiating from him. The strength of his hand sent a shiver down her spine as he assisted her to her feet, hovering protectively until she gained her balance. “How do you feel?” Once again Rianna turned her head from side to side, finding the dizziness completely gone. Perhaps she had been mistaken about the severity of her head injury and hadn’t been suffering from a concussion. In fact, she felt surprisingly well. “Good,” she replied, perplexed but pleased. “I feel fine.” “Splendid. We should be able to make excellent time.” Her glance darted in the direction of the huge creature half hidden in the shadows. Ignoring it, she made a show of looking around, a nasty suspicion forming in her mind. “Do you have a transport?” she asked, hoping against hope. As if on cue, the equestrian-like creature gracefully climbed to its feet, giving its enormous body a shake that set its harness jingling. With a nod of his head, Jhaan indicated the animal now watching them expectantly. Rianna’s eyes widened and she stared at the size of the creature with more than a little dismay. So much for the hope that Jhaan had some sort of mechanical craft hidden away. “I hate to be the one to break the news to you, but I’ve never ridden before.” Rianna tried to keep her tone light, but a slight quiver betrayed her unease. Although huge, the beast looked docile enough as it returned her scrutiny. In fact, it was really quite a beautiful animal, she decided as she ran her eyes over the long silky hair covering it. The dappled coat looked incredibly soft, its coloring striking. Seemingly aware of the instant her gaze turned admiring, the creature tossed his head and gave a high-pitched squeaking cry. The sound was so peculiar in a beast so large that Rianna
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laughed. The animal clearly enjoyed her amusement, giving cry after cry until she was giggling with childish delight. Jhaan watched with amusement. “Ellion is feeling playful.” He led her to the creature’s side, patting his mount’s shoulder with obvious affection. “Sirahs rarely make any sound, so he must like you.” Reassured, Rianna felt herself relax as Ellion turned to nuzzle her. Okay, this was a new experience. This was part of why she had escaped this morning. She needed one last day of freedom to try new things before she returned to her duty. “You need only sit astride before me,” Jhaan said as he watched her, his golden eyes intent. “I will hold you steady.” “Oh, you will, will you?” Delight shivered through her at the thought of those arms around her, but she firmly quashed it. That was one experience she had no business contemplating. To distract herself she even went so far as to touch the elongated muzzle of the creature with tentative fingers. Ellion tossed his head once before lowering it to press his face against her neck, his breath warm against her throat. A slight sound rumbled from deep within his chest, reminiscent of a feline’s purr. Rianna pressed her cheek against the long silky hair, drawing a deep breath. His large body gave off a scent of something akin to roasted nuts, while his fur was finer than the silks offered by Turnis. “Ellion approves of you,” Jhaan commented as he tightened the belly cinch. “Sirahs are fierce creatures.” “Really?” Rianna continued to caress the silky hair running down the beast’s slender neck. Encouraging her touch, Ellion lowered his head farther to allow her to scratch him below the ear, that purring sound once more rumbling deep within his barrel chest. Yes, very much like a feline’s purr. “He doesn’t look it.” She leaned closer to his upright ears. “Are you so very fierce?” she whispered in a croon, her breath tickling his sensitive ears and causing them to twitch. As if understanding her words, the sirah gently pulled away. Giving a soft snort he obligingly curled back his lips to reveal a row of razor sharp teeth, fangs curving inward. Rianna gasped, her eyes wide with alarm as she fell back several paces.
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“He definitely likes you. Sirahs do not reveal their defenses to the unwary.” Jhaan gathered up his remaining belongings and secured them to the back of the saddle while Rianna watched the creature from a safe distance. “You needn’t fear Ellion. Had he meant to harm you, he would have done so earlier while you were within reach.” “Thanks! That’s reassuring!” Jhaan flashed her a heart-stopping smile before swinging up into the saddle, leaning down to extend a hand to her. Rianna hesitated, giving the creature one last uncertain look before accepting his hand. Muscles flexed easily as Jhaan pulled her up before him, helping her swing one leg over the neck of the sirah to sit in front of him. As Rianna settled her bottom into the saddle, she thought she heard Jhaan give a low groan. A glance at his face showed a stiff expression, making her aware of the intimacy of their position. Color heated her cheeks as she straightened. An arm came around her waist and pulled her back into the pocket of his lap. “Don’t worry about it,” he murmured against her ear, his cheek brushing against hers as he urged Ellion forward. “We have too far to go for you to ride in discomfort.” Rianna drew a deep breath and allowed herself to relax against him. She might be inexperienced when it came to men, but she wasn’t completely stupid. She knew the next couple of hours were going to be sheer torture for Jhaan. Yet, something deep inside her purred at the thought.
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Chapter Four The bed chamber was dimmed against the bright glare of the late afternoon sun, the shimmer of heat reflecting off the gleaming white walls of the Ruler’s Palace. With the windows sealed and shutters securely latched, the interior should have been stifling. Instead it was cool, the air redolent with the scent of perfumed smoke rising lazily from the brazier positioned within easy reach of the massive bed. There was little sound save for the heavy breathing of the two people still entangled amongst the silken sheets. The woman raised herself onto one elbow, pushing her hair out of her face as she leaned over the man, brushing her generous breasts against his chest. Ilena Torane smiled slowly, seductively, running one blue lacquered nail down the center of her lover’s chest, lingering an instant over his navel before traveling down to brush against his flaccid masculinity. The renewal of his sexual interest was unsurprising. Saris A’Sarah was a lusty man, able to rise to any occasion. In fact, he was by far the most aggressive lover she had ever taken to her bed. Quite the opposite of her late husband. As a lover, Malcom Torane had been pitiful. It was his inability to perform in the marriage bed that had sent her out seeking more adventurous diversions. Drawing a deep breath, Ilena glanced over at the brazier, noting that the narcotic smoke was fading. Reaching across Saris, she caught up a handful of dull brown stones and flung them onto the still glowing coals. Bluish smoke billowed upward, swathing the two of them in a pungent haze of euphoria. Clinically, Ilena noted the dilation of Saris’s eyes, his glazed-over expression. He was relatively new to this particular narcotic. It took some time to appreciate the full effect of the dream stone, increased sexual stamina being only one advantage. Picking at the silk coverlet, Ilena idly traced the gold thread sewn into the violet material, watching Saris through half-closed eyes. “Do you not think it is a little dangerous for us to meet at this time of day, Saris? We might be discovered.” She peered over Saris at the sight of the two of them reflected in the wall-length www.samhainpublishing.com
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mirror. Smoothing her tousled blonde hair, she arranged its length over her shoulders and down over her breasts. Full lips curved with satisfaction as she studied the perfection of her features. Although she was no longer a young girl, her skin was still smooth and unblemished, her golden hair still thick. She had matured into a beautiful woman and made the most of her attributes. Since her introduction into court life, she had been quick to realize the power of beauty and take full advantage, going through a number of noble lovers before pinning her sights on the heir apparent. Saris had proven the easiest to ensnare, and her greatest achievement. Saris pulled her back into his arms, rolling her over until he was above her, burying his face in her throat. “What does that matter?” he mumbled, clearly distracted. “Your husband is dead, so who is there to object?” He ran his tongue down her neck and over one breast, engulfing her nipple with his lips and pulling at it almost roughly. Ilena moaned, pressing herself firmly against the suction of his mouth. Pulling her arms free she ran her hands down his back, reaching to cup his buttocks, raking them with her nails just short of drawing blood. She knew what Saris liked. “Your intended may object,” she pointed out as she writhed against him, running one leg up over his hip and rubbing his hardening shaft against her mound. “Not to mention what your precious Society would say.” Her mood soured at the thought of the petite Zarian. Much as it galled her, Ilena had to admit that Rianna Chartier was beautiful in a dark, exotic way. But if her behavior was anything to go by, the little virgin princess was more than likely as priggish and frigid as the majority of Zarians she had met. With his preference for rough play, Rianna would never hold the interests of a man like Saris for long. Although she was latest in a long string of bed partners, Ilena had retained her position for far longer than most by her willingness to indulge his sexual quirks. That and the dependence she was carefully nurturing for the narcotics only she could provide. Raising his face to look down at her, Saris smiled, cold malice evident in the twist of his mouth. “I wouldn’t worry about her.” Glancing over at a timepiece on the mantle, his smile widened. “In fact, we needn’t worry about her at all.” “What do you mean?”
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“I mean that the frigid little Zarian is in the process of meeting with an unfortunate accident.” Raising her brows, Ilena concealed her sudden interest. Saris was just petty enough to withhold information out of sheer spite. “An accident? How?” Pulling away from the temptation of her body, Saris swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the sheets pooling around his hips. Rubbing his hands through his hair, he shook his head in an attempt to clear it. Damn that smoke. It was making him dizzy. Pushing aside the coverlet, he rose from the bed and paced naked to one of the windows to throw wide the shutters to clear out some of the stifling smoke. The blast of heated air was almost staggering after the coolness of the dimmed room, but Saris barely noticed it. The desert heat rarely affected him. His entire life had been spent on Turnis. “It is my family’s desire to form an alliance with Salazar, not mine,” he told her without bothering to turn. His attention remained on the dunes of sand visible on the horizon, blind to the barbaric beauty of the land. The air shimmered with the waves of heat rising off the scorching sands, distorting the distant mountains and making them appear insubstantial. The sky was a vivid, unrelieved blue, dazzling. An arid planet, Turnis possessed great expanses of desert dotted with countless stretches of sparse vegetation and little by way of water. It was a harsh land, unforgiving to the careless, deadly to the foolish. Saris’s initial opposition to this betrothal had fallen on deaf ears. With typical ruthlessness, his father, Toras A’Sarah dismissed his objections, dictating that his eldest son wed the Zarian bitch or be removed as successor heir of Turnis—permanently if need be. Having three younger brothers salivating to take his place, Saris was left with little option. “What does your precious Society say about your pending marriage?” Saris didn’t turn at his lover’s question, but continued to stare out at the desert. “They’re against it. The F.O.W. is pushing for this marriage, and my father is agreeable to it.”
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Anger began to boil up, fueled by the drugs he’d ingested. The alliance with the girl was abhorrent enough, but as a member of the Purist’s Society, he shared their prejudice for anything or anyone of Salazar. Even though he was forced to conceal his association with the Society, he wholeheartedly embraced their teachings. As the successor heir, he was not allowed the luxury of open association with such a radical group. Their numbers were small, yet they had members in all walks of life. From the lowliest laborer to the successor heir himself. “Your father knows nothing of your affiliation?” “My father is a fool. He seems to think that we’ll gain advantage through this union.” Saris smiled. “Fortunately there is only one Zarian princess of marriageable age. I’ve simply taken the steps necessary to ensure that there would be none.” “What do you plan?” Turning, he allowed his heated glance to sweep over the seductively reclining figure of Ilena Torane. Saris ran his eyes over the perfection of that body as she stretched languidly, sleek as a feline, a knowing smile curving lush lips. He knew he would have to wed someday, if only to ensure the succession of his line. Unfortunately, as the widow of a minor house, Ilena Torane was not considered an acceptable companion for the eldest son of the ruling family. Before her marriage to Malcom Torane, she was a commoner, which did nothing to enhance her status. Given Ilena’s particular expertise, Saris had his suspicions about the convenience of her husband’s death so soon after their marriage. As the widow of the former head of the Torane house, Ilena was assured a place in society, although a relatively minor position. “I was informed this morning that the princess had decided to take one of the Zarian ships off planet for a little excursion. Wouldn’t it be a pity if she were to meet with pirates?” Satisfaction deepened his smile as he turned his attention back to the scene beyond the windows. He still felt the effects of the dream stone on his senses. The desert sand shimmered in an incredible kaleidoscope of colors under the heat of the sun, the dancing colors mesmerizing. Closing his eyes he could still see the sparkling hues. If he reached out a hand, he could actually grasp the iridescence of liquid sun.
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“Truly a pity,” Ilena agreed slowly as she read the hidden message in his words, her smile widening as she realized their full import. Having finally enticed Saris to her bed, she’d be a fool to tamely sit back and let all of her hard work go to waste. In her extensive research into drugs and poisons, Ilena had found several lethal combinations which were all but undetectable. She had been toying with the idea of finding a way to administer a particularly nasty potion to Rianna Chartier, but could think of no way that couldn’t be traced back to her. Despite her precautions, she had gained something of a reputation on Turnis as a skilled practitioner of narcotics. Saris may have just solved her problem for her.
“What do you mean, she’s gone!” Bertram Chartier thundered, his voice rising until he was shouting. His fierce black gaze pinned his sister and she instinctively shrank back. “Where in the seven hells is she!” When she didn’t respond, Bertram’s temper rose. “Well?” he roared. “Are you deaf? Where is she?” Taking a deep breath, Thea Chartier ventured an answer. “It seems Rianna was seen leaving the palace early this morning.” Her voice quivered with fear, her hands clasped tight together. She cast a nervous glance his way before she edged farther from his reach. “She has not yet returned.” Bertram watched his sister with open contempt. “And this is the first I’m hearing of her disappearance?” Raking his hands through his unruly black hair, Bertram Chartier turned away from the woman in disgust to pace the length of the room. “I charged you with one task during this journey—one task! To keep Rianna in line until the negotiations were complete. How can you fail in something so simple?” The potential for disaster ate at him. His booted feet beat a hard tattoo on the floral patterned rug as he struggled to control his temper. He swung around once more when Thea carefully cleared her throat. His younger sister might have been a beautiful woman at one time, but her quiet manner, along with her tendency to
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downplay her attractions, had caused more than one suitor to look elsewhere during her youth. Her black hair was now liberally streaked with silver, while a network of fine lines surrounded her deep green eyes. Even as he watched she shrank in on herself in response to his anger. “Rianna managed to acquire one of the escort ships and left the planet.” “Damn it, woman,” Bertram bellowed. He was an intimidating figure, and made the most of it. “How could you wait until now to inform me of this—only hours before she was to be turned over to her future husband?” How could this happen? All of the arrangements had been finalized, the papers signed and exchanged. Couriers had already departed to deliver the first round of contracts to his brother. All that remained was the official release of Rianna to her betrothed and future in-laws. It was as simple as that. Bertram paced the length of the opulent sitting room, his long strides eating up the distance in less than a dozen steps. A thought struck him and he swung around to confront his sister once more. “Tell me, Thea. Did Rianna run away?” “No.” Thea looked surprised at the question. “Rianna has never said anything against this marriage.” Well, that was something at least. Bertram resumed his pacing, his mind working furiously to salvage this disaster. “I was sure she would have returned before now, Bertram,” his sister ventured in a timid voice. “The ship she took wasn’t a long-distance flyer, nor was it equipped for deep space travel. She’s never been gone this long without any word.” “She has done this before?” Could this situation get any worse? Bertram stared at a tapestry that took up most of one wall in the sitting room, his eyes blind to the beautifully intricate needlework. The A’Sarah family were a prickly pack of bastards. Quick to take offense at any slight, imagined or otherwise. Although his dealings with them this past peri-cycle had been excruciatingly difficult, there was no doubt that Toras A’Sarah desired this union as much as Salazar. He had all but rammed his eldest son and heir down their throats.
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Swinging around in time to intercept his sister’s glance of longing at the closed door, Bertram bristled with renewed fury. “She has, hasn’t she?” Damn the girl! Would she ever do what was expected of her? She was never satisfied— always demanding answers, questioning both his authority and that of his brother—her father, King Maleck. Since her birth, her stubbornness had been a thorn in his side. Her headstrong ways had made her the talk of the Zarian court, encouraging other young women to emulate her. Her father had entrusted Bertram to finalize these negotiations and dammit, he was going to accomplish his objective. Now that damn girl’s recklessness threatened to ruin everything he’d worked so hard for. Sinking down onto a fragile chair, Bertram ignored its squeal of protest as he cradled his chin in his hands, agitated fingers pulling at his thick beard. For the moment, he paid little heed to his sister hovering just out of reach. Bertram’s investigation of the A’Sarah family had been thorough—particularly with regard to the successor heir. His sources had hinted at several unsavory tendencies in connection with Saris. Mere rumors, nothing he was able to substantiate, yet Bertram adhered to the ancient saying that where there was smoke, there was fire. Since their arrival on Turnis he had carefully studied the young man at length, but could find nothing to validate the rumors. Unless and until he had some sort of proof, Bertram would do nothing to jeopardize the negotiations. This union between Salazar and Turnis was too important to put stock in rumors. It far outweighed any unsubstantiated propensity the successor heir might or might not possess. Bertram’s brother had not hesitated to offer up Rianna to Turnis as the means to unite their worlds. Even the signing of the Treaty of V’rona some five hundred cycles earlier had done little to deter the hostilities between Salazar and Turnis. A fresh battleground had been forged in the newly established arena of trade with each planet ruthlessly maneuvering for advantage in the wealth of trading nations. It wasn’t until their economies began to suffer that the F.O.W. stepped in and commanded that they reach some sort of accord. Their admittance to the hallowed higher echelon of the Federation of Worlds was endangered if the bitter rivalry between their planets continued. No greater incentive could have put a halt to the hostilities.
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Bertram had no doubt that Rianna was a worthy prize as the Zarian sacrifice. The widower Toras A’Sarah, had all but salivated upon his first sight of the girl. Bertram wouldn’t have been surprised if the old lecher had decided to take her for his own. Bertram merely neglected to mention his niece’s obstinate and unconventional nature. That was for the Turnisian fools to discover. How could he salvage this situation? It was imperative that the A’Sarahs were kept ignorant of Rianna’s absence, the possibility that she’d fled the planet. That insult was enough to destroy peri-cycles of hard work. A feast was to be held tomorrow evening to formally announce the betrothal of Rianna and Saris to the general populace of Turnis. The signing of the marriage contracts was scheduled for tonight. Even now the final trade documents and treaties were being drawn up by scribes of both families, legal representatives hammering out last minute details and maneuvering for the best position for their respective worlds. The next wave of couriers were poised to transport the last of the contracts back to Salazar. Everything teetered on the brink of ruin. Standing, Bertram resumed his pacing, his mind working furiously before he turned on Thea once more. His sister looked ready to faint under his accusing stare. “I should have been informed the instant the girl was discovered missing, Thea,” he said finally, his voice a low rumble, holding a lethal calm. Thea made a visible effort to control her fear. Her pale face was strained, yet she stood her ground. “I am concerned for Rianna, Bertram,” she said. “It is true that she has gone off by herself in the past, but never for this long. I fear something may have happened to her.” “If she ruins these negotiations, you had best hope that something has happened to her.” Bertram gave his sister another look of disgust before crossing the room to stand before the small window. “Nothing will be said of Rianna’s disappearance,” he said over his shoulder, his tone allowing no opposition. “Yes,” Thea agreed at once.
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“No one is to be allowed into these rooms. No one, do you understand? Not even the servants.” He crossed the room and towered over his sister, demanding and fully expecting her unquestioning compliance. “Least of all the servants.” Gossip would storm the palace in minutes. “What should I say if anyone inquires?” “Princess Rianna is ill and must not be disturbed under any circumstances. That should buy us a few days to locate her.” Satisfied with her obedience, Bertram reviewed this plan from all angles. Yes, it just might work. As soon as he returned to his suite he would send for the captain of his guard and charge him, and him alone, with locating Rianna. She couldn’t have gone far. If he could stall the official betrothal for a few more days, the girl was sure to be found. As his brother’s ambassador he had never failed to achieve his goals, nor was he going to start now. Rianna would be found and when she was, she was going to regret her defiance. He would personally see to it.
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Chapter Five The sun was dropping beyond the horizon when Jhaan finally called a halt for the night before travel became hazardous. The fading light left the sky serrated with shards of gold, orange and red. There was a brief moment of complete silence as the day creatures sought refuge and the nocturnal creatures emerged to take possession of the night. The forest held its breath for a moment before the air slowly filled with the chirps, clicks and squeaks of the countless wildlife and insects as they surfaced from their daytime slumber. Enormous Portins left their nests in the high canopy and began swooping through the sky on slender bat-like wings. Their high-pitched cries echoed throughout the forest as they hunted the small insects that comprised their diet. Here and there came the faint call of a roosting avian as it settled for the night. The first of the twin moons was just beginning to crest the opposite horizon, casting a silvery sheen over the forest, deepening existing shadows and creating new ones. Jhaan drew the sirah to a stop in a clearing a hundred meters from the hard-packed road they had followed for much of the day. He swung out of the saddle with a heartfelt sigh of relief, his face set in hard lines. The journey had been an agonizing strain, a torture beyond words—yet one he would not have traded for the world. His adolescent training had not prepared him for the torment of unfulfilled desire. His body had been hard with arousal for much of the journey, pressed snugly against the enticing curve of the woman’s posterior. Knowing Rianna was aware of his suffering increased his discomfort. She had started out holding herself stiff, avoiding all physical contact, until the awkwardness of the position forced him to wrap one arm around her slender waist and draw her firmly against him. He ignored her shocked gasp as she came into contact with his hard length. Her resistance lasted only a moment before she gave in and allowed herself to be molded against his chest, unconsciously wriggling
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her behind into a more comfortable position and causing Jhaan to grit his teeth in a blend of ecstasy and torment. In an effort to distract himself from the soft body of the woman in his arms, Jhaan spent much of their journey concentrating a continuous scan for any danger on the trail ahead. Not that there was likely to be any, but the exercise allowed him some measure of relief. The effort of suppressing the developing mental link with her was tearing him apart. Every one of his instincts demanded that he open himself fully to her, entwine his mind with hers, until they became one. He had no idea how he was going to endure the next few days. Now, as he gazed up at the small woman perched on the sirah, Jhaan traced her weary face with a caressing gaze, unsurprised by both the tenderness and possessiveness he already felt for her. Thick lashes rested against pale cheeks, casting shadows over her high cheekbones and drawing his attention to the smoothness of her gold tinged skin. Her shoulders drooped with exhaustion, yet her head was held at a proud angle. He sensed a wealth of stubborn determination. Even exhausted, she was unwilling to give in to her weariness. “We’ll stop here for the night,” Jhaan said softly. Despite himself, his body tightened once more with anticipation for the coming night. By custom he could not possess his mate in every sense of the word without first participating in the Linking Ceremony. Something he intended to rectify at the earliest opportunity in Dionne City. In the meantime, he had to find a way to keep himself distracted. The strain of unrelieved lust was going to drive him mad. His musings broke off as he realized Rianna had not moved from Ellion’s back. Even the sirah turned his head to gaze back at the woman with his large, dark eyes. “Rianna?” Rianna stirred in the saddle, a tiny moan of pain escaping tight lips. “I told you I’ve never ridden before,” she said in a strained voice. “I don’t think I can move.” Jhaan stared up at her, nonplused. He’d been so preoccupied, he’d failed to detect Rianna’s growing discomfort. Never once had she voiced a single complaint, nor did he wonder why she had fallen quiet after peppering him with countless questions and observations for much of the ride. Swearing in his own language, he reached up, his hands easily encircling her slender waist. His neglect was unforgivable.
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Rianna’s hands caught his arms in an effort to stop him, her face tightening with alarm. “No! Just leave me here…ooh!” She groaned aloud as she slipped from her perch. Without effort, Jhaan swung her into his arms and carried her the few meters to a nest of feather grass growing below a copse of trees. Kneeling, he gently set her down before imperiously tilting her chin upward with one hand. His eyes sought and captured hers in a hypnotic trap. Through their strengthening link, Jhaan experienced her sense of a dipping motion as the tickling at the back of her head flared and she fell into his stare, her eyes first growing wide and then slowly losing focus. He felt her brief struggle against the dreamlike trance as some sense of self-preservation emerged, but she was unable to escape his mesmerizing eyes. He demanded her compliance. With the greatest care, Jhaan swept through her mind. Although unforgivable, he could not prevent himself from pausing to linger here and there to examine past memories and experiences. Every new facet he discovered of her character only served to deepen his admiration of his newly found psi-mate. Skimming over her memories Jhaan forced himself to concentrate on her discomfort. Centering himself, he dropped into a healing trance, easily locating the patterns which regulated pain and sealing off the discomfort of abused muscles. Turning her onto her stomach, he ran his large hands firmly over the small of her back and downward to brush over the elegant curve of her buttocks. Her gaze no longer held by the demand of his, Rianna’s lashes drifted shut as a soothing warmth swept through her. Oblivious to his actions, she gave herself over to his tender ministrations, her thoughts cut loose from their moorings to float free with no direction or destination. Never had she felt so relaxed, so cosseted. She felt his hands gently part her legs to run up the inside of her thighs, the material of her trousers no barrier against the tender caress of his touch. His talented fingers left a trail of heat in their wake, igniting nerve endings that threatened to spiral her deeper and deeper into a realm of sensuous delight. Instinct took over and Rianna’s mind reached out toward him. A spectrum of color burst into her mind as her energy merged with his, mingling with the lightest of touches, seamless.
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Her eyes moved behind her closed lids as she unconsciously followed both his physical and psychic contact. She found Jhaan focused on her discomfort, seemingly unaware of her actions as she swept over his surface emotions, finding a chaotic mix of impressions of which the ache of unfulfilled desire rose predominant. For this brief moment it made little difference that they had met for the first time that morning. The mental bond tightened its hold, entwining the two of them in some manner she knew was alien in origin. A burning need. It went far beyond that of mere physical passion. The strength of the emotion left her intrigued rather than alarmed. A low moan of answering desire escaped her lips, heat building deep within her, threatening to burst into flame. Faint as the sound was, Jhaan’s head shot up, his mind disoriented as he fought to return to his own consciousness, a fine sheen of sweat bathed his face and several strands of hair fell into his eyes. His hands were pressed against the curve of her buttocks, caressing her soft flesh without conscious thought, his mind still occupied with the impressions he gleaned from her. The intimacy of their psi contact was an addicting drug. He started when he felt her mind brush lightly against his, a groan of his own escaping his lips. Immediately he slammed down a block. It was too much! Rianna’s head jerked back as he snapped the contact. She rolled onto her back and stared at him with shimmering resentment, her emotions still entangled with the sexual need he had been transmitting. Jhaan closed his eyes as he encountered the hurt in hers. “Rianna,” he murmured. He had been unconsciously broadcasting his own rising passions without consideration that her mind was so in tune with his that she was reflecting his sexual need with her own and magnifying it back at him. The situation was growing more explosive by the moment. He might have just ignited it. Stretching out beside her on the soft feathergrass, Jhaan gathered her into his arms, holding her in his warm embrace as he tried to calm both his lacerated emotions and her own. Concentrating on transmitting soothing waves, he focused on the night. For a long moment all was silent save for the sound of the evening creatures and the faint wind filtering through the
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trees. Once night fell, it came swiftly at this time of year, the sky a black velvet backdrop for countless stars sprinkled like glittering jewels across the heavens. Just when he thought he had himself under control and the danger passed, Jhaan felt Rianna stir against him. Turning her head she pressed her soft mouth into the hollow of his throat in a lingering caress, shocking him with the touch of her moist tongue as she lazily stroked the pulse throbbing there. Renewed desire slammed through him, driving out every rational thought. Her untutored mind reached out for his once more, entwining her thoughts with his as she discovered the newly forged mental path. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew she was still reacting to his heightened sexual desires. Jhaan tried to break off the contact when he felt her fingers brush over his chest, slipping into the gap of his shirt to caress him. One nail scraped over the brown nipple nestled in the sprinkling of chest hair, making every good intention dissolve into a mist of lust as his emotions flamed anew. A low growl erupted from his throat as he rolled her under him, his hands burrowing into the wild tangle of her dark hair. Gazing for a long moment into her drowsy green eyes, he lowered his head, prolonging his own anticipation until his lips found hers, gliding over them for an instant before capturing them with possessive hunger. Her instant response was hot and eager, tempting him into further liberties, until he parted her lips to savor the taste of her mouth. Bracing his elbows on the ground, he slid his hand from her hair to curve around her cheek, holding her head still for his thorough exploration. Rianna was immersed in a world of sensual hunger. She moaned softly with need, arching her body upward to press her breasts against the muscular wall of his chest. She was only vaguely aware of his hands finding the fastenings of her tunic, loosening the material until she felt the cooling night air brush teasingly across her breasts. He stroked her, one hand sliding into the opening of her clothing to close possessively over her breast. His thumb stroked over her nipple until it pebbled into hardness, ultra sensitized. “Jhaan,” she begged in a throaty voice. For what, she wasn’t sure. She only knew that she wanted these wonderful caresses to continue forever.
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“Shhh, Rianna, ni harai.” His lips released her mouth to trail down her throat, lingering at the erratically beating pulse before continuing over the curve of her breast. She heard him murmur something in his own language before his lips found her aching flesh. His teeth skimmed over the pearled tip, lingering to savor her sweetness, his tongue first stroking then engulfing her fully into the heated pull of his mouth. Rianna gave a muffled cry as she felt an echoing response pooling between her legs. She could feel a building heat, a flow of moisture dampening her trousers. Her hands caught his hair, freeing it from its binding to wind it tightly into her fists, holding him to her breast. Jhaan forced himself to release her, raising his head to sweep his heated glance over her, his face stiff as the need for possession tried to drive every rational thought out of his head. “Tell me to stop, maarai,” he growled in a voice barely recognizable as his own. Dark lashes swept upward, giving him a glimpse of jeweled green eyes alight with her burgeoning passion. Her response was to tighten her hold, drawing him back to her scented flesh. With a groan Jhaan pressed his face against her neck as he fought a losing battle to rein in his spiraling passion. Her warm scent was driving him wild, urging him on to sample more of her flesh. His hand slid down over her belly, pausing to caress the curve of her hip before curling over the juncture of her legs. The thin material of her clothing did little to disguise the heat emanating from her body. Rianna writhed upward, pressing herself against his hand. Impatiently Jhaan tugged at her trousers, opening them to slide his hand into the material until he found her moisture, burrowing his fingers into the velvety down of hair until he found the treasure he sought. With gentle fingers he parted her damp folds to stroke her flesh, marveling at her softness, at her heat. Raising his head, he watched her eyes as he pressed against her engorged clit for a brief moment before easing one finger into her narrow passage. Her liquid fire clenched over his finger as he bent once more to her breast. Another cry sprang from her lips as her hips bucked upward, undulating against his hand, the sound swallowed in the vastness of the night. Through their budding connection, Jhaan felt an almost unbearable sensation of building pressure where it radiated from her sex and he timed his strokes to heighten her pleasure, pausing now and then to brush against the tiny nub nestled between her nether lips.
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A husky laugh purred through him at her wild response. He was conscious of his own arousal, hard with burning desire that demanded he complete their union. Her musky scent was an aphrodisiac, heightening his hunger. Her moans teased his senses until he opened his mind more fully to hers. The red haze of yearning he found there only fueled his own fiery response. He pressed his hips against her restlessly shifting thigh, allowing her leg to slide between his own, reveling in the delicious friction against his groin through the leather of his trousers. The sensation was a taste of heaven and hell as he felt the approach of his own release. Rianna twisted, pressing herself closer until without warning she arched against his hand, shuddering uncontrollably. Her eyes widened with shock and a long keening cry broke from her lips as she reached her release. Jhaan felt her liquid heat bathe his hand as he stroked her to completion. He watched her face avidly, her orgasm echoing through her mind and into his, triggering his own release. Dropping his forehead to hers, he shuddered as he spent for the first time in his life. For a long moment there was no sound save for the desperate panting as they tried to catch their breath. Then Jhaan rolled onto his back, pulling Rianna into his arms and nestling her head under his chin. He was ruefully aware that he would have to locate his spare trousers. His arm curved around her shoulder as he pressed her cheek to his chest, for the moment content to think of nothing, to savor the lingering pleasure. Rianna struggled to catch her breath, the fog clouding her mind evaporating with each passing second. As her euphoria faded the magnitude of what had just occurred came crashing down on her. Her mind replayed the past few moments with embarrassing clarity. She couldn’t move. To move would involve looking up into that wholly masculine face and confronting her own wanton behavior. Her cheek was pressed against the fine material of his shirt, her nose tickled by the hair revealed at the gapping neckline, a neckline she herself had parted, all but tearing at the material to caress that wonderfully muscular chest. She closed her eyes with mortification. “What is it about you?” she moaned in a small voice, turning her face further into his chest. Her flaming embarrassment did not prevent her from drawing in a deep breath of his warm masculinity. He smelled fresh and wild, a hint of muskiness that was arousing even to her
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inexperienced senses. Even now her body continued to shiver with the aftermath of her passion. “I’ve known you for less than a day, and yet this is the second time that I’ve compromised myself with you.” A brush of air against her hair heralded his low laughter before it rumbled under her cheek. He murmured something in his own language, his words low and caressing. Rianna found herself listening to the lilting cadence of his language, unable to understand a word but finding it beguiling nonetheless. His hand came up and brushed through the tangle of her midnight hair, smoothing it from her brow. “I cannot in all honesty regret tempting you,” he told her, his voice still husky. His fingers curved under her chin to tilt her head upward, urging her to meet his gaze. For a long moment black lashes remained lowered, brushing against still-flushed cheeks. “You are an incredible woman, Rianna Chartier.” Rianna forced herself to look up, compelled by his silent demand. Even in the shadows cast by the moon, his amber eyes still glowed with the lingering heat of his hunger, sweeping over her face with blatant possession, focusing on her tingling lips until her breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted as her tongue nervously moistened the lower curve, some part of her aware of the invitation in her action. His gaze darkened further still until his impelling stare was almost physical. “Never have I felt its like,” Jhaan murmured with satisfaction before he bent his head to gently brush her lips with his, igniting renewed desire. Every nerve ending clamored for completion of their lovemaking. He tried to remind himself of every reason for delay, paramount being the risk of an impaired merge of their minds. It was getting harder and harder to remember that. Forcing himself to release her, he felt her lingering withdrawal as her lips clung to his. Rolling over onto his back, Jhaan pushed his head back into the feathergrass to stare up into the starlit heavens, drawing deep breaths in an effort to regain his control. Darkness had fallen without his notice. Hardly surprising. He sat up, drawing Rianna up with him, reluctant to relinquish all physical contact with her. For a long moment he enjoyed the sight of the enticing curves of her breasts still visible through
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the open tunic. A self-mocking smile twisted his lips as he gathered the gapping edges and pulled them together. Best to remove temptation from his sight lest all his good intentions go up in smoke. Rianna’s glance followed his, her cheeks flaming anew as she hurriedly pulled away and turned to straighten her garments. She knew he continued to watch her, could feel his gaze. “Do you mind?” she demanded in her haughtiest voice, lifting her chin and daring him to say something—anything. His only response was a second taunting smile that set her teeth on edge. Maddening male! Dignity restored, Rianna attempted to resurrect a measure of her composure. Getting to her feet, she braced herself and turned to confront him, ignoring the unsteadiness that threatened to buckle her knees. “That will not happen again,” she told him in no uncertain terms, proud of her firm tone. “I am not a woman of loose morals.” Jhaan remained where he was, his gaze steady as he carefully wiped any remaining amusement from his expression. “I am well aware that you are not…loose.” He leaned back to rest on both elbows, the movement causing the white shirt to gap, revealing a wealth of wonderfully masculine chest. Rianna’s eyes were drawn to the bronzed skin, watching the play of muscle as it rippled with every movement. He was temptation incarnate. With a supreme effort she tore her gaze away, glancing upward. A gleam of knowing amusement danced in their amber depths. “Nor am I in the habit of allowing strange men to take liberties with me,” Rianna shot back, putting her hands on her hips. “I know that as well,” Jhaan replied as he smoothly got to his feet. Rianna took two hurried steps to put space between them. Although his face was expressionless, she still got an impression of growing amusement. That he was aware of her fascination merely made her all the more determined to control her raging hormones. This uncharacteristic behavior was unacceptable. She could barely bring herself to dwell on that brief interlude, nor could she pretend it did not happen. Jhaan san deCain was like no one she had ever met before. He made her feel things that should have been
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improper, yet she just couldn’t bring herself to name it as such. Never before had she been so aware of her own body. Felt so alive. She had been completely wanton, initiating that soul searing kiss. She had been so hungry for his touch, her appetite voracious as she gave in to the temptation to sample the heretofore forbidden fruit. She still ached. Somehow she found it impossible to imagine indulging in the same intimacies with her future husband. Her few meetings with Saris had not ignited so much as a tingle, while Jhaan made her burn with a mere glance. Her stomach clenched as everything within her rebelled against the thought of sharing the marriage bed with Saris. Odd to think she had not held such objections just a short time ago. She was prepared to do her duty by family with this union of the two worlds. Now she found doubts battering at her mind and sending conflicting emotions ricocheting through her. Jhaan read her inner battle. She was broadcasting her emotions on a high frequency. Even as he tried to allow her time to recover her composure, he couldn’t keep himself from cautiously extending his consciousness, needing to know her reactions. Lightly he skimmed over her surface emotions to find her mind in a chaotic swirl. Although pleased to detect no distrust, he berated himself for his own actions. He’d rushed her. He’d been unable to resist her once she had initiated the first kiss. Having found her at last, he should have curbed his impatience, forced himself to wait. They would be arriving in Dionne soon enough. Surely he could keep his passions under control until then. He paused as another thought occurred to him. Unless he was greatly mistaken, tomorrow evening was the Celebration of the Lunar Rising. The Linking Ceremony would be further enhanced with the simultaneous rising of the double moons of Dakar. The combination of the two ritual celebrations was considered good fortune. He could afford to be patient. By tomorrow evening, Rianna would be his in every sense of the word, body and soul. Bound to him even as he was bound to her with the joining of their minds.
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Chapter Six Rianna watched with some trepidation as Jhaan swung into the saddle of the sirah before he reached down to assist her. She stared at his hand for a moment before taking it with some reluctance. Given the intimacies of the evening before, a part of her was not looking forward to resuming their journey, while the other part shivered with anticipation of being held in Jhaan’s arms again. But rather than nestle her in his lap, she was startled when he helped her up behind him, mumbling something about the change of position being easier on her sore behind. Ellion gave one of his peculiar trilling cries and lurched forward. Rianna gasped in alarm as she felt herself beginning to slide backwards and hurriedly caught Jhaan around the waist. Difficult as it was to cling to her dignity in light of yesterday’s incident, she was determined to do so. Her mind persisted in dwelling on their intimacies, causing a fresh blush to flow into her cheeks. She was thankful that Jhaan was unable to see her expression. She knew her face broadcasted far too many of her emotions for comfort. Much of the morning was spent following the hard-packed road through the remnants of the vast forest, its tract seemingly endless. In places, the trees were so thick Rianna couldn’t see past the first few. It should have generated a sense of claustrophobia, but instead she felt a comforting security in the forested embrace. Eventually they left the seemingly endless forest and signs of civilization appeared. The farms were neat and well kept, their fields a patchwork of colors surrounding small houses and out buildings. Here, for the first time since her arrival on Dakar, Rianna noticed the use of modern automation as mechanical harvesters wove through the fields, selecting the ripened crops for harvest. Massive storage transports periodically rose and lumbered off. Although Rianna knew little about the workings of farm equipment, this machinery appeared modern, giving lie to the impression that Dakar was a primitive, backward world. There appeared to be much concealed below the surface. 62
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As they entered civilization, Rianna was able to forget her embarrassment over their intimacies long enough to begin plaguing Jhaan with endless questions, every new sight encouraging fresh observations. Half the time Rianna found herself listening more to the cadence of his voice than his explanations. The lilt of his accented Basic sent shivers of fascination through her. He had a way of pronouncing certain words that was utterly captivating. She could listen to those deep tones for hours. They passed few people on the road. Most appeared to be farmers traveling on carts piled high with produce and pulled by a pair of creatures Jhaan named as miorrers. Oxen-like animals, they were short and muscular with a single horn protruding from between their small, upright ears. The farmers they passed appeared friendly, stopping whatever they were doing to stare at her with evident fascination. They’d been traveling several hours when she heard a low rumbling in the distance, the sound faint, then steadily growing in volume. A low flying transport came into sight, decelerating until it halted in the middle of the road, dropping to the hard surface and cutting its engines. Rianna leaned forward to peer around Jhaan’s shoulder as the hatch opened and three soldiers emerged. Two men and one woman, they made an impressive sight, well dressed in uniforms of dark blue with silver trimmed cuffs and stiff, upright collars. Knee-high boots gleamed with a bright polish while each black beret was tilted at a precise angle. They appeared well seasoned and alert for all of their finery. Rianna noted the evidence of hard usage in both uniform and weapons. Under the relaxed, loose-boned posture was an impression of coiled readiness. Rianna didn’t miss the hard gleam in their eyes as they came to a halt just before they reached the sirah. One man, obviously the leader, stepped forward and bowed slightly. He spared her a brief glance before directing his attention on Jhaan, rattling off a spate of words she didn’t understand. An older man, he was tall with that same powerful build evident in both Jhaan and Markin. Idly, Rianna wondered if this was a common trait among the men of Dakar. He also wore his sandy brown hair longer than she was accustomed to seeing, drawn back into a neat tail to fall behind
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him. His glance slid to her once more before snapping back to Jhaan. No expression touched his hard face. Very intimidating. “Captain Tammar.” Deliberately speaking Dakarian, Jhaan acknowledged the captain of the guard with an inclination of his head. His gaze ran over the size of the transport ship, aware of the number of soldiers it could hold. He allowed a flow of approval to escape. “You are on your way to the forests of Dionne?” “Yes, Your Highness. Word was received of two ships entering Dakar airspace. When my unit returned from patrol, we were dispatched by your father to investigate.” Jhaan had not missed the way Captain Tammar’s eyes had flickered past him to where Rianna still peered cautiously around his shoulder. It was a credit to the man that he didn’t allow any psi spillage nor expression to pass over his face. “Defense picked up two intruders, one of which had departed shortly after landing.” “There were two ships,” Jhaan confirmed. “One vessel had been piloted by this woman, Rianna Chartier.” He made a slight gesture over his shoulder to indicate Rianna, aware that she was listening avidly to the exchange despite her inability to understand any of it. “My lady.” Only the slight widening of his eyes betrayed the captain’s surprise. Although his face remained impassive, a gleam appeared in his stormy gray gaze. “The second ship carried assassins who targeted her. I took out one of the men and my lady dispatched a second. The third assassin escaped.” “And the ship piloted by your lady?” “Debris. It will take you a half a day to get there. You should arrive by late afternoon.” “Our sensors are picking up a homing beacon, Your Highness.” Jhaan went still, his mind working furiously. He should have thought of this. A homing beacon would allow Rianna’s people to locate her. Something he was not prepared to allow at this time. Too much hung in the balance. “Find the downed ship and destroy it,” he instructed the captain, his voice a harsh growl. “At your command, Your Highness.” Captain Tammar bowed again, bringing his arm up to cross a closed fist over his heart.
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“Locate the bodies of the two assassins and search them thoroughly. Their employer is to be found without delay, Captain. I want all evidence of their presence erased.” “At your command, Your Highness.” “I also want trackers on that second ship,” Jhaan ordered. “I want that third man found, Captain—alive. I will learn who is responsible for the attack on my lady.” “Aye, sir.” Again Captain Tammar crossed his arm over his chest in a salute. At Jhaan’s terse nod he gestured to his people and returned to the transport. Jhaan watched as the vessel rose in a cloud of dust and vanished in the direction they had come. Within moments silence once again fell as the transport passed from sight. “What was that all about?” Rianna ventured after a moment. “Why didn’t we hitch a ride with them?” “We are close enough to Dionne City that we needn’t divert them from their mission. Captain Tammar was dispatched to investigate the trespassing.” Rianna said nothing for several heartbeats. “Did you tell them that I was one of the pilots?” “Yes. I also told the captain that we were on our way to the capitol where your people would be informed of your safety. He will investigate the site and attempt to identify the two men who attacked you.” He felt rather than saw Rianna’s frown and was careful to erase any hint of evasiveness in his manner and thoughts. Through their intimacies, she was beginning to read his emotions far too easily. It wouldn’t be long before she began to wonder why the military hadn’t taken her into custody given the fact that she was one of the trespassers.
Rianna was relieved when they finally arrived at Dionne City. As they entered one of the city squares, a distinct drop in the street noise made her look around curiously. Dionne was a large city, its paved streets teeming with crowds of considerable size. They passed into a market square, shops and booths of every description crowded together, vying for the limited space available.
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Peering around Jhaan’s broad shoulders, Rianna saw merchants of every type: knife sharpeners, boot makers, clothiers, food vendors and even a tiny booth which sold pretty little gold cages holding brightly feathered avians. Their sweet song rose above the muffled din, the pure clarity a rival for the finest bells. The sun filtered down between structures up to four stories high, crowded together without giving the impression of clutter. Everywhere she looked were brightly colored banners and flags suspended from poles or hanging out of windows. The slight breeze fluttered them into a brief swirl of color before they dropped to rest, swaying slightly, then lifting once more as the breeze strengthened. Her ears caught a faint melody from across the square, its tune haunting and more than a little sad. Listening, Rianna wondered at it. “The song is called ‘Onsona lanque son’,” Jhaan told her without turning, somehow anticipating her next question. “It is a popular piece here on Dakar.” His words sounded almost absentminded. Rianna noticed his eyes continuously scanned their surroundings. “Loosely it is translated as ‘My Search’.” “It’s lovely,” she murmured as she strained to hear more but they’d already passed beyond its range. “But sad.” She glanced over her shoulder in an effort to locate the source of such a beautiful sound. All she could see was a solid mass of humanity. As they traveled through the town, Rianna was even more conscious that far too many men stopped and stared as they rode by. Here and there was a scattering of women, far outnumbered by the men. Frowning, she wondered at that. Perhaps here on Dakar, women didn’t work outside the home. Again noise levels dropped with their passage, picking up once more with increased volume behind them. She twisted around at one point to find nearly every gaze still on her, the intensity of their attention sending a shiver of unease down her spine. Why were they so fascinated? As they threaded their way through Dionne, she spied several inns, any one of which would be perfectly suitable while she contacted her family on Turnis and arranged for them to fetch her, but Jhaan continued on without pausing. He seemed distracted, his thoughts turned inward. He had said little since meeting with that patrol earlier today. Even that weird bundle of sensation at the back of her head was muted.
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For the moment Rianna was content to gaze around, her eyes finding new sights everywhere she looked. Dakar was beautiful, wild and untamed, yet not lacking in comforts. Dionne City was neatly laid out, clean and uncluttered. An abundance of vegetation grew in wild abandon even here, providing lush beauty to compliment the elegant lines of their architecture. Although she noticed few examples of advanced technology, Rianna suspected that Dakar was not lacking in modern conveniences. Its usage was simply sparing and well concealed, giving Dionne an appearance and feel of unspoiled provincial charm. Jhaan directed Ellion down several roads until they came to an ornate gate set in a high stone wall rising several meters. Here, too, there was evidence of modern technology. A field of energy crackled along the top of the wall, an alarm to warn of any unauthorized intruders. Pulling Ellion to a halt, Jhaan leaned forward and pressed his palm against the security pad, at the same time announcing his name. There was a pause before the gates swung inward, smoothly and soundlessly. Without urging, Ellion passed through the fine mesh barrier. Rianna braced her hands on Jhaan’s shoulders to peer past, curiosity humming through her veins. Within the walls was a small garden overflowing with an abundance of riotous color. Set in the center of the profusion was an impressive jewel of a villa, its walls gleaming white in the late afternoon sun. Only two stories high, it was lined with wide balconies spanning its entire length, the windows wide and open to the warm breeze. Its pristine walls were laced here and there with flowering vines twining upwards, their blooms providing vivid splashes of color against the purity of the structure. As Jhaan rode up the wide pathway, the huge red doors opened to reveal a tall, gray-haired man. Jhaan drew Ellion to a halt at the bottom of the dozen or so stairs and swung down, pausing to acknowledge the man’s presence before turning to Rianna. “This is the family seat of deGens. You already met Markin deGens,” he told her as he reached up to assist her from the sirah. His hands lingered at her narrow waist, as if reluctant to release her. “We will be welcome here.” For a minute Rianna stared up into his golden gaze, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders before she turned and looked toward the man waiting at the top of the stairs. He was beyond middle-aged, simply dressed in a tunic and trousers of green brocade. Black boots
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encased his feet and legs to the knee. Thick, nearly silver hair was only slightly lighter than the neat goatee surrounding his mouth. Even from this distance, Rianna felt the weight of his piercing gaze on her. His understated finery made Rianna conscious of her less than immaculate appearance. Her earlier feeble efforts to control her curling mass of black hair now seemed woefully inadequate. Jhaan urged her forward. “Come, I will introduce you to Count Gerrard. He is an old friend of my family and will offer us his hospitality.” Rianna hung back. “I don’t wish to impose, Jhaan. I could stay at one of the inns I saw on our way here.” “Nonsense. Such a suggestion would offend the count.” A quick smile lit up his eyes. “Besides, I am sure Markin has already been regaling his family with the tale of your arrival.” Reluctantly, Rianna allowed him to lead her forward, aware of her wrinkled appearance. Setting her chin, she banished any sense of inadequacy and forced herself to approach the count with confidence. She was a member of the ruling family of Salazar, a world which was a star in the F.O.W. Involuntarily, she found herself glancing up at Jhaan. A curious sense of approval seemed to emanate from him, yet his attention remained centered on their host at the top of the stairs. Giving herself a mental shake, she concentrated on the man they were approaching. She was imagining things. “Good day to you, Gerrard,” Jhaan called ahead of them, at the same time sending a silent wave of caution not to reveal his identity. Years of friendship with the deGens had honed their psi communication to a near telepathic path. “I trust we have not caught you at an inopportune time.” “Not at all…Jhaan. Markin has already informed us of your pending arrival. You are always welcome in our home,” Count Gerrard said. His eyes warmed to the color of dark chocolate before he stepped forward to clasp Jhaan’s arms just below the elbows in a gesture of affection. “Markin also mentioned that you had found your…”
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“…a foreign traveler,” Jhaan interrupted smoothly. He slid his hand under Rianna’s elbow, urging her forward to introduce her. “Rianna, allow me to present Count Gerrard deGens. My friend, this is Rianna Chartier, a stranded spacefarer whom I had the good fortune of aiding.” Rianna smiled up at the older man. She felt an immediate sense of kinship with him. Although his manner was slightly stiff, there was little doubt of his welcome. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Count deGens,” she murmured with pleasure, warming under his approval. He was a handsome man, like most everyone else she had seen thus far here in Dionne. Nothing in the sparse information she had been able to access made mention of the uniform beauty of the people of Dakar. One would think such a fact would be noteworthy. “Please, just Gerrard, and the pleasure is mine, my lady. Please come in and make yourself welcome in my home.” With a glance at Jhaan, Rianna accepted the count’s arm and allowed him to escort her into the villa. Jhaan was a step behind as they entered the spacious foyer, the inside just as beautiful as the outside had promised. The foyer opened into a high ceilinged room from which several corridors branched off. Double staircases, gleaming with white marble, swept upward and out of sight at the far end of the room. Tapestries lined the walls, complimenting the brightly colored furniture. The effect both elegant and welcoming. Keeping up a steady flow of conversation, the count led the way down several corridors until they at last entered a solarium overflowing with an abundance of flora. The air was rich with the scent of countless flowering plants, their vivid color almost blinding in the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rianna looked around, charmed, her attention caught by the sound of falling water. Hidden somewhere in the foliage, the sound was a soothing background noise in the peaceful room. A stunningly beautiful woman stood, her hands brushing down the folds of her elegant blue gown, the material falling to her feet. Much the same age as the count, her golden blonde hair was liberally laced with white while fine lines surrounded her lovely blue eyes. Hers was a beauty enhanced by age. Her face lit up with pleasure as she came forward with hands outstretched.
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She said something in the Dakarian language and Rianna noticed that she would have sunk into a curtsy but Jhaan caught her hands in his and drew her forward instead to press an affectionate kiss to her cheek, responding in the same language. “Lady Rianna doesn’t understand Dakarian, Lady Laurine,” Jhaan continued as he turned to Rianna. “Please speak Basic for her benefit.” The countess threw a startled glance at Rianna, her eyes dancing with barely suppressed curiosity. “Of course. Please excuse my rudeness.” “Not at all.” Rianna smiled at her, instinctively liking the woman. Her Basic was heavily accented with that charming lilt Rianna had noticed in Jhaan’s speech. “Allow me to introduce my lady wife, the Countess Laurine,” Gerrard put in smoothly. “You must be weary after such a long journey, my lady. Please be seated.” Count Gerrard gestured toward a grouping of cushioned chairs surrounding a small table. Pausing by his wife, he ran one finger down her cheek in a gentle caress. Rianna felt the intimacy of the exchange and involuntarily glanced up at Jhaan, only to find him watching her, his gaze warming to the color of dark amber. A young man in simple uniform entered the room bearing a tray with damp towels, the steam rising to mingle with the already humid air. Grateful, Rianna wiped the dust from her journey off her face and hands before returning the cloth to the boy. She was dismayed to see how soiled the material was. She must look a fright! Rianna turned to her hostess to find the woman’s attention fixed on her, an expression of curiosity plain on her beautiful face. Noticing her regard, the countess flushed slightly. “Forgive me, my Lady Rianna,” she said. “We so rarely see strangers here on Dakar. You are something of a…curiosity.” “There is nothing to forgive, Countess. From what I’ve read, strangers are discouraged.” Rianna spoke slowly and clearly. Laurine was not quite as conversant in Basic as Jhaan. “Normally, yes. We are an extremely…private people and wish to remain that way.” “I can see why. What I’ve seen of Dakar thus far is so beautiful, so unspoiled.”
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“Thank you. Our government is very cautious with what…technologies are…introduced here. We are careful not to change too much.” “Will you excuse us, my dear.” Count Gerrard paused beside his wife’s chair, touching her shoulder. “Jhaan and I have much to discuss.” “Of course, go,” she replied with a wave of her hand before she turned to smile at Rianna. “Jhaan has been gone for several cycles. There is much to bring him up to date about.” Rianna’s gaze followed the two men until they vanished from sight beyond the jungle of foliage. The murmur of their voices could still be heard above the trickle of falling water. Another young man paused beside the countess’s chair, bending to speak to her in a low voice. “Yes, please take care of that. There is still much to be done before tonight.” Presenting a courteous bow to the seated women, the servant took his leave. The remaining man carefully lifted a large silver pot and poured a thick, hot liquid into two porcelain cups. Rianna accepted her cup with relief. She was parched. About to raise the cup to her lips, she noticed the way the servant was staring at her with fascination. When he noticed her glance, his face went scarlet and he beat a hasty retreat. “He is a good boy, but unused to strangers,” the countess told her as she gestured towards Rianna’s beverage. “The drink is called khai. To our knowledge, the herb grows only here on Dakar. It is one of our few exports.” Tentatively, Rianna sampled the steaming liquid. Reminiscent of a thick, hot tea, it was heavily spiced with a sweetener. It was delicious. The sound of voices just outside the solarium drew her attention and Rianna glanced over her shoulder in time to see Markin deGens entering the glass room, his long stride quickly eating the distance between them. He broke into a smile of pleasure as he halted beside his mother’s chair. Seeing them side by side, Rianna could see that he possessed the same golden hair as his mother, as well as her sky-blue eyes. Other than the rugged shape of his face, there was little of Count deGens in his son. Markin bent to press a warm kiss to his mother’s cheek, before turning to Rianna. “My lady.” He bowed with courtly grace to her. “I am pleased to see that you survived the journey with little wear and tear.”
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“Riding a sirah was a bit of a challenge,” Rianna admitted. “Still, it gave me an opportunity to see much of your countryside.” “Only a small portion.” Markin left their side long enough to pour himself a glass of pale green liquor. “Dakar is a world of many contrasts, as I’m sure you will find.” “I’m afraid that I’ll only be here for a short time.” Rianna grimaced as she thought of her uncle’s reaction to her near tragedy. “I will be returning to Turnis in short order.” Taking a sip of her drink, Rianna glanced up just in time to catch the look exchanged between mother and son.
“It must be done tonight, Gerrard,” Jhaan said in a low tone. “My allotted time has nearly expired. I have mere days to show proof of a mate.” “I know. Markin traveled through the night and arrived early this morning. Even now, he is completing the final arrangements.” Gerrard kept his voice equally low. He glanced up at the approach of his son, a smile transforming the gravity of his face. “Ah, here is he now. What news do you have, my son?” “Everything has been arranged, Father. Word has been sent to Magistrate deMallori. He informs me that he will be honored to officiate over the ceremony.” “Excellent, Markin.” Count deGens continued on for several more steps before halting once more. He hesitated only an instant before revealing, “I was in Dakar City a few weeks ago, Jhaan. Your cousin is already talking of assuming his place as the royal heir. Demitry appears certain you are going to fail.” “He’s very confident,” Markin added. “He would have only a few more cycles to succeed in his own search.” Despite himself, Jhaan experienced a fierce sense of satisfaction. His cousin had long coveted the role of heir apparent.
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Both men had been carefully groomed to assume the reins of government upon the eventual death of Jhaan’s sire, but while Jhaan had been diligent in his studies, his cousin had preferred the more idle benefits of royalty. While Jhaan chose to leave Dakar to travel throughout the galaxy, seeking to learn more of other cultures and worlds, Demitry had elected to remain on Dakar. Still, his cousin’s personal prejudices did not stop him from spouting some fairly controversial beliefs. Beliefs that alienated numerous people both in court and outside it. Jhaan halted when he realized that Gerrard was staring at him with consternation. “Haven’t you heard?” The count’s voice held a note of dismay. “Heard what?” “Demitry located his psi-mate earlier this past spring. He’d been sent by your father to investigate reported unrest in the mines of Demaske. It was there that he met the governor’s daughter, the Lady Melia deRamada and made the Link.” Stunned, Jhaan digested this disturbing bit of news. His travels had taken him far and wide during the past two cycles. Most information he garnered during the course of his wanderings was either woefully incomplete or outdated. His cousin’s acquisition of his psi-mate ensured his status as successor heir should Jhaan fail to Link with Rianna. Now, more than ever, it was imperative that the Linking Ceremony be performed without delay. Catching the backlash of Jhaan’s thoughts, Gerrard continued. “Tonight Laurine and I are hosting a gala to honor the Lunar Festival. Magistrate deMallori will perform your Linking Ceremony before the rise of Roma.” “Inform the magistrate that he is to conduct the Linking Ceremony in Dakarian. The ceremony is simple enough that Rianna will not realize its true significance.” “It will be as you wish.” Gerrard clapped the younger man on the back with an ease of long acquaintance. “You, my friend, are playing with fire if you think to deceive a woman. While they are reputed to be the gentler sex, they tend to find ways of making you pay for any deceptions.” He hesitated for a moment, exchanging a glance with his son. “I gather Lady Rianna is unaware of the course her life has just taken.”
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“She knows little of Dakar.” “Including your birthright?” “Including that.” Gerrard’s face fell into solemn lines. “So Markin has informed me. Have a care, Jhaan. She will not take kindly to being deceived.” “I am aware of that. But…there is something about Rianna which calls to me, makes me burn just to be near her.” Gerrard gave a soft crow of laughter. “So it begins, my young friend, so it begins.”
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Chapter Seven Rianna was idly exploring the treasures of the solarium when she felt Jhaan’s presence. Although he made no sound as he approached, somehow she sensed him. Her hostess had excused herself a moment earlier to arrange for Rianna’s accommodations, and she was taking this opportunity to inspect some of the surrounding beauty. “Your friends have a wonderful home, Jhaan.” Rianna focused on an intriguing plant and smiled. Touching the waxy white petals with gentle fingers, she turned her attention to another blossom growing nearby, this one a pale pink with spiny petals radiating from a darker red center. Its heady scent was reminiscent of the jasmine flowers of Salazar, only richer, spicier. She was conscious of Jhaan shadowing her aimless wanderings, his large body warm at her back. “Gerrard and Laurine represent the royal government here in Dionne,” Jhaan said, sounding distracted. Rianna glanced up to find him watching her with a brooding expression. “Gerrard informs me that they are hosting a ball tonight,” he continued. “They wish us to join them as their guests.” Rianna turned back to the flower she’d been inspecting, unsettled by his nearness. While he didn’t crowd her, he loomed protectively over her. He was a man of many contrasts. Deadly while dealing with her assailants, he was at the same time incredibly patient with her, answering her numerous questions, anticipating her every need. “That would be delightful. I should very much like to learn more about Dakar before I leave.” Without thinking, she leaned back into his strength, the heat of his body igniting a dangerous longing in her. For a dangerous moment she allowed herself to dream, wondering what it would be like to possess the freedom to choose her own destiny. She pressed her lips together as her eyes stayed on the pale blossoms. Such yearnings were pointless. She was a member of the royal family of Salazar. She could not indulge herself in www.samhainpublishing.com
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some elusive sense of completion nor was she in a position to waste another moment longing for something she could not have. But there was time enough to put aside fantasy. For now she felt free to yield to her thirst for knowledge and adventure. Reality would intrude soon enough. “Will I be able to get a message to my family on Turnis? I’ve never been gone for so long. They’ll be worried.” Even while telling herself that duty demanded her return to Turnis, Rianna was determined to savor this brief experience on Dakar. She felt Jhaan’s hands on her shoulders and he turned her to face him. His eyes lingered on her for a long moment before answering. “I am afraid you will have to wait until we reach Dakar City. Dionne does not possess interstellar communications.” He cupped her face between his palms, his thumbs gently feathering over her lips until she parted them on a sigh. Rianna shivered with anticipation as Jhaan bent his head and caressed her mouth with his own. She hesitated only an instant before she parted her lips to allow him further liberties. Eyes drifting shut, she savored the gentle pressure of his mouth on hers. His masculine scent filled her senses, driving out every thought but the feel of his hands on her shoulders, his mouth on hers. His taste was addicting.
Jhaan both heard and felt Rianna moan against his mouth, felt her hands slide up his chest to encircle his neck. The press of her breasts against his chest was maddening, but it was her swiftly rising desire that nearly drove him to his knees. Jhaan pulled back to capture her gaze with his, drawing a deep breath as he struggled for control. This had to be settled soon. His control was not going to last much longer. “Has Laurine informed you that tonight is the Lunar Festival of Dakar?” He watched her struggle to coordinate her thoughts as he pulled her out of the sensual spell he was weaving. At her bemused nod, Jhaan hesitated, unsure. He knew what he was doing was unforgivable. He had already lied to her. Now he was deliberately deceiving her. With an effort, he hardened his resolve. He didn’t have the luxury of time to woo her as she deserved.
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He was silent for so long that Rianna slanted him an inquiring glance. “She mentioned it, but didn’t say exactly what it was.” The breathless note in her voice sent his temperature soaring. Apparently he was doing something right given the response he was drawing from her. The knowledge gave Jhaan the confidence to continue, accepting his decision. “Once a cycle—a year—the dual moons of Dakar appear in the night sky at the same time. Just as Norda is setting in the West, Roma rises in the East. The twin moons briefly light up the night sky to equal the day’s sun. The creatures of Dakar react to this interruption of night in a rather spectacular manner.” “In what way?” His smile turned mysterious. “You will see.” Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear with tender fingers, he allowed his smile to deepen. “The festival has been celebrated on Dakar for eons. We hold few holidays, but the Lunar Festival has a special significance to many of my people. You are fortunate to be here to witness it.” Rianna returned his smile with one of her own, her eyes lighting with expectation. “I’m looking forward to it.” Jhaan’s smile faded as his face fell into serious lines. “There is a…ritual I wish to invite you to participate in at the festival.” “What sort of ritual?” Jhaan hesitated for a moment while he debated once more with his conscience. The struggle was brief as necessity won out. “Just as the dual moons of Dakar balance the night sky, there is a…balancing ceremony which my people occasionally take part in at festival time.” Not entirely a lie. But then, not entirely the truth either. “Why do you need me?” For an instant he stared at her, nonplused before he realized she was responding not to the thoughts racing through his mind, but rather his earlier comment. He marshaled his response. “It would be an honor if you would participate in this ceremony with me, Rianna.”
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Though he met her eyes squarely she rubbed at the back of her neck, a slight frown bringing her brows together. “Is it difficult?” “Not at all. Just before the rising of the second moon, we would share a glass of wine containing an herb called tinsin and receive a blessing from one of our magistrates.” “That’s it?” “That’s it.” Jhaan watched as she nibbled on her lower lip, his glance heating as it dropped to her mouth, sparking a responsive gleam in her own eyes. “What is this tinsin?” “It is an herb found only here on Dakar. It—makes one more alert.” Jhaan waved one hand casually. “Chases away the clouds of the mind.” “Clears the head?” “Ah, yes, that is the correct phrase. It clears the head.” Rianna appeared to hesitate another moment before coming to a decision. “All right, I’ll do it.” “Excellent. I will inform Gerrard that you have agreed to Link with me.” “Balance.” “Your pardon?” “Don’t you mean, balance? You said it was a balancing ceremony.” “Yes, of course. Forgive me. My Basic is not always accurate.” She hadn’t noticed any inaccuracies in his speech, but let it go. Staring up at him, she saw his attention slide beyond her shoulder for only a moment before returning to her, the warmth of his smile making her insides melt. Rianna noticed the way his gorgeous auburn hair fell over his brow, tempting her to smooth it back. That warm, come-hither look in those unusual golden eyes sparked an answering response that had her toes curling in the confines of her boots. The man was lethal. Absolutely lethal. “Laurine tells me she has a gown you may wear for tonight.” Rianna turned to follow his glance and found both the countess and Markin deGens hovering at the entrance of the solarium. She’d been so caught up in Jhaan that she hadn’t heard
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their arrival. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment as she slipped from Jhaan’s loosened arms. She could just imagine what they were thinking, cuddling up with a man she had just met the day before. “Thank you, Laurine. I had wondered what I could wear.” Although the countess’s answering smile was warm, there was a touch of uncertainty in her expression when she glanced from Rianna to Jhaan. “Jhaan?” Markin’s face revealed nothing of his thoughts. “She has agreed, Markin.” He almost growled out the words in Dakarian as he felt the waves of censure emanating from both mother and son. “Does she know exactly what she is agreeing to?” Markin asked, a slight challenge in his voice. “Let me worry about that.” The glance Laurine shot Jhaan was laced with disapproval. “Have a care, Jhaan.” Laurine returned her attention to Rianna. “Forgive us, Rianna. It is rude for us to use our language when you cannot understand.” Guilt ate at Jhaan, but he suppressed it. Rianna Chartier was not of Dakar. She hadn’t been raised to expect the open sharing of two minds. The extent of the psi released in the Linking Ceremony could very well traumatize her. Or not. It was impossible to predict how an offworlder might react to the sudden merging of her mind with another. A Link with an alien had never been done before. “There is nothing to forgive.” Rianna put a slight distance between herself and Jhaan, the color still high in her cheeks as she straightened her hair. “Please, come with me. I will show you the gown you may wear tonight. I am certain it will fit you. If not, we have time to make the necessary alterations.” Linking her arm with Rianna’s, Laurine kept up a steady stream of conversation as she led her from the solarium. The final glance she flung at Jhaan just before they passed from sight was eloquent. Ignoring Laurine’s disapproval, Jhaan watched as the two women departed, his attention remaining on Rianna. Already he was able to track her mentally as Laurine guided her through
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the villa. Their mental link was strengthening at an astounding rate. It was with an effort that he released his hold on her consciousness. “Is it fair to do this to her, Jhaan?” Moving to the table where spirits were kept, Jhaan poured himself a small measure of ousza. “The choice is not mine, Markin. With Demitry Linked, time is a luxury I do not have to woo Rianna as I should.” He stared at the pale green liquid in the glass he held. “For nearly three thousand cycles my family has held the throne of Dakar, its line unbroken. However, more than one eldest son had been passed over for lack of a mate.” Without looking at his young friend, Jhaan was aware of his sigh of agreement. “You’re right. Time is of the essence. Still, this does not feel right.” With that, Markin deGens turned and left the solarium. Jhaan knew Markin was correct. He had to be careful. Rianna was an intelligent woman. She would not take kindly to being deceived. Rianna believed herself to be betrothed to another. She could very well feel it her duty to honor that first promise. A sense of savagery welled up in him as he contemplated the male who believed to have a prior claim on his mate. The world of Turnis was not a great distance from Dakar and Jhaan had spent some time there during his travels. He recalled it being a desert world with a surprisingly heavy population for such a dry planet, although much of it was transient, almost nomadic. Its wealth made in mining precious elements, Turnis attracted a number of rough and ready migrant workers to supplement its fluctuating workforce. After the rainforests of Dakar, Jhaan hadn’t cared for the arid conditions of Turnis and so had not lingered there for long. He needed the lush growth of vegetation around him to feel comfortable. His time spent on Turnis was incognito, and he had heard much about the ruling family in the inns and taverns he had visited. He also recalled seeing the eldest son, Saris A’Sarah, in a number of those taverns for an evening of drinking, gambling and wenching. Though several cycles younger than himself, Saris A’Sarah was already showing the signs of his debauched lifestyle. Jhaan seemed to recollect hearing it whispered that he had a preference for young,
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untried girls. Nothing substantiated. Only vague references and innuendos passed about the taverns he frequented. He felt himself go cold at the thought of Rianna wed to him, of being at the mercy of such a man. Jhaan brought his glass to his lips, slowly swallowing the burning liquor, feeling the ousza slide down his throat and warm the cold knot in the pit of his stomach. Rianna would never be in the power of Saris A’Sarah. Not as long as he lived.
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Chapter Eight “Allow me to introduce Magistrate deMallori, Rianna, maarai,” Jhaan murmured in Rianna’s ear at the approach of the tall, gray haired man accompanying Count deGens. Dressed in full formal wear, he was short by Dakarian standards, but towered over her by a half a head. Something in Jhaan’s voice made Rianna slant him a curious look. He’d been tense all evening, but with the arrival of the magistrate, he looked relaxed. For the first time tonight he smiled. “I am pleased to meet you, Magistrate deMallori.” Rianna held out her hand to him. He was a pudgy man who evidently refused to acknowledge the fact that he had put on weight, his evening clothes a size or two too small for comfort. Rianna fought to contain her mirth, making the mistake of glancing at Jhaan as deMallori bowed over her hand. The gleam in his eyes was wicked as he shared her amusement. She felt her eyes tear up as she choked back her laughter, and she tore her gaze from Jhaan’s. “The honor is mine, my lady,” he began in a heavily accented Basic. Rianna felt Jhaan stiffen before he barked out several harsh words in Dakarian. For a moment the magistrate looked almost flustered. “Your pardon,” he stuttered, then glanced at Jhaan before continuing in rapid fire Dakarian. “‘I must apologize for my lateness’,” Jhaan murmured in her ear, translating for her benefit. “‘An unforeseen delay. Please let us begin so that the festivities may proceed.’” Jhaan took Rianna’s hand and led her to a cleared space on a raised platform. The other guests gathered around. Rianna felt a wave of anticipation and she looked out over the sea of faces with some curiosity. Everyone was well dressed, draped with materials of every color and texture, each more elegant than the next. Again she noticed the lack of women. There were several scattered throughout the room, but far more unattached men. The vast room was festooned with banners and flags, garlands of flowers were strewn everywhere. Their heady scent rose to mingle with the savory smells of countless treats. 82
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Mirrored panels reflected the revelers in a prism of reflections, giving an air of unreality, of magic in the evening air. An air of enchantment, she thought.
“The magistrate’s Basic is somewhat inadequate,” Jhaan said to Rianna as the count and countess took their places as witnesses. He drew a deep breath. Everything was balanced on a knife’s edge. Carefully omitting several key phrases, he translated as the magistrate positioned everyone to his satisfaction before launching into a lengthy oratory, proclaiming that the deCain lineage would continue unbroken with the attainment of the prince’s psi-mate. He went on with the significance of such a union, of the continued prosperity for the royal family. The man waxed poetic for several long moments, his tone deep and melodic, soaring at points so that all present could hear. deMallori was in his glory. Even as he translated, Jhaan was grateful that Rianna was unable to understand a single word. Watching her face, he knew when confusion began to color her thoughts, her frowning glance first centered on the magistrate then sweeping over the expectant guests. “Begin,” Jhaan interrupted deMallori, causing the man to stutter to a halt, disconcerted. “Of course, my Lord Prince. Ahem…” He straightened the too-tight tunic with flustered hands, and moved his lips silently as he appeared to mentally revise his speech. “All here are present to witness the Linking of our royal prince, Jhaan san deCain, with his psi-mate, Rianna Chartier. Come, please stand before me.” Signaling a young servant, deMallori deftly selected a small dried leaf from a golden bowl, looking it over carefully before rubbing it between his hands and depositing the crushed dusting into a flagon. Swirling what appeared to be a deep red wine in the decanter, he poured out three cut crystal goblets. Handing one each to Jhaan and Rianna, he retained the final glass for himself, raising it over his head as he turned slowly so that all assembled could see. He murmured the blessings of the Maker and drank deeply from his cup. When his glass was empty he gestured for Jhaan and Rianna to follow his example.
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Hesitantly, with an uncertain glance at Jhaan, Rianna took a tiny sip. The heavy red wine was almost bitter on her tongue as she forced herself to drink a bit more. Although not an unpleasant vintage, it was certainly not to her liking. Her lashes drifted shut as she lowered her glass and ran her tongue over her lips, removing the last vestiges of the wine. She felt the effects of the tinsin herb almost immediately and her eyes snapped open with some alarm. Her mind felt sharp and alert. The cell-lights glowed brighter, colors more vivid as she glanced around at the assembled guests in their elegant evening wear. Her blood sang in her veins, effervescent. She fancied she could hear the ripple of Jhaan’s muscles as he shifted his weight. Throwing back her head, Rianna drew a deep breath, filling her lungs with his dark scent— her senses unbelievably sharp. Everywhere she looked she found marvels. Everything was so intense, it was almost painful. Lifting her face, she was aware of the tears running down her cheeks, her chest tight with suppressed emotions. She barely noticed when Jhaan removed the now empty goblet from her nerveless fingers and replaced it on the tray. She had been oblivious of finishing its contents. A peculiar pressure began to build in her head, a faint buzzing triggering the first stirring of fear as a veil of fog obscured her vision. Had she been too trusting of a people she barely knew? Her instincts were never wrong. Was this a first time? Her gaze met that of deMallori and found him watching her carefully, eyes intent. “What—?” “You are fine, my lady,” he said in his heavily accented Basic before he laid a hand on her forehead, his other reaching for Jhaan. Splaying his fingers wide, he positioned them directly over their frontal lobes. Closing his eyes he began to murmur, first almost under his breath, his tone growing louder with each successive word. Perspiration stood out on his forehead as he continued his chant, his eyes growing tight with strain. At first Rianna felt only a faint increase in the pressure, a muffling sensation clouding her mind, before a sudden roaring filled her ears. Gasping with shock, she felt a sharp pain stab through her head. Instinctively she tried to pull away, but she could not move. The pain lasted only seconds before it vanished, leaving a throbbing along her nerve endings, the beat
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synchronized with her heart. Slowly the feeling faded, leaving a curious sensation in her mind before that too diminished to a low hum. Raising a shaking hand to her head, she wondered if she imagined everything. It happened so quickly. “Are you all right?” Jhaan asked in a low voice as he slid a hand under her arm to steady her. His gaze was sharp and she felt a peculiar sensation in her mind, a brushing of something almost physical. “I just feel a little odd.” Rianna swayed slightly before regaining her balance. A wave of applause thundered in her ears, making her blink with confusion. Looking around, she found pockets of guests beaming at the two of them, happiness wreathing their faces. A quick glance upward showed Jhaan watching her with an expression of satisfaction on his face. She realized that Magistrate deMallori had left the platform. Glancing around, she saw him sitting in a chair at the high table, his face pale as he accepted a brimming glass of wine. “The tinsin herb should have had little physical effect,” Jhaan said. “It is used to merely sharpen your…senses.” “It certainly did that, but was it supposed to be painful?” “No, not at all. Do you wish to rest?” Rianna considered this for a moment before shaking her head. The pain was gone. Swept away along with her fear and doubts. Her senses still felt sharp, as if she’d received a shot of adrenaline. The only oddity was a slight muffled sensation she felt at the back of her mind. A tingling. Perhaps an effect of the tinsin leaf? “No, I’m fine.” She didn’t want to miss the approaching lunar spectacle. It was unlikely she’d ever get another opportunity to witness it. Jhaan slanted her a warm smile before he took her arm and led her to the high table, seating her at his side before he motioned to the servants to provide them with refreshments. Rianna was conscious of him turning in his chair as he slid his arm along the back of her chair. She felt his fingers first brush, then capture a strand of thick black hair. As she accepted a glass of wine, a reckless part of Rianna decided to enjoy this moment in time. It felt wicked, completely out of character for her. A new experience, a certain daring.
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Rianna sipped her wine and gave Jhaan what she knew was a sultry smile. His golden eyes darkened in response, heightening her confidence. His reaction heated her blood with a sense of power. The answering smile he directed down at her sent a wave of warmth from her head to toes and briefly clouded her confidence before she pushed it away. Her years in the Zarian court had taught her how to handle men. Jhaan may be attractive and charming, but he was still a man. Even if he was like none other she’d met. Glancing up at him once again, she fortified her courage with another sip of wine. Damn, but the man should be outlawed. The cool liquid slid over her tongue and down her throat, sweet and smooth. It was a delicious vintage, tasting of warm soil and sunshine. Far more refreshing than the heavy wine she had sampled earlier. To distract herself Rianna glanced over the guests. A small ensemble of musicians were playing softly as the guests mingled. Once more noting the quality of their dress, Rianna was doubly grateful to Laurine for the gift of the exquisite gown she was now wearing. She ran her hands over the fine material, smoothing the long deep green skirts over her lap, admiring the elaborate golden embroidery covering the bodice. The gown had required only a minimum of alterations and, while the neckline was a bit lower than she was accustomed to, she was quickly put at ease when she saw the dress of her hostess. Rianna’s was tame by comparison. Stealing a glance toward Jhaan from under thick lashes, Rianna admired his borrowed finery. The black material of his evening clothes hugged every portion of his body, molding his powerful muscles and fanning her wanton fantasies. “When does the festival begin?” she asked, her voice a touch breathless as she tried to control her wayward thoughts. The look he gave her had her swallowing hard to work moisture into her mouth. Although impossible, she got the impression that he was privy to her daydreams. “Soon. There will be dancing first.” Nodding, Jhaan directed Rianna’s attention to the cleared space on the floor. Following his glance, she saw several couples sweep into position in anticipation of the first opening bars of the musicians. The mirrored panels surrounding the room
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reflected the kaleidoscope of colors, giving an otherworldly feel to the couples sweeping through the elaborate steps of the opening dance. Again she noticed that most of the guests were male. As the first dancers departed, a second wave took to the dance floor. All men, they performed the steps with linked arms, flinging themselves into increasingly complex maneuvers in time to the music. When the music changed once more Rianna wondered at the inequity of the sexes. She frowned. Just as she was about to question Jhaan over this oddity, he stood. “Would you care to dance with me?” She hesitated an instant before accepting his hand and allowing him to pull her from her seat. She couldn’t remember when she had last danced for the sheer pleasure of it. Dances were performed out of duty, not pleasure. With anticipation, she followed him onto the polished marble floor. Taking her into his arms, he swung her into the dance. Pleasure flooded her as she gave herself over to the intricate steps, matching his movements and avoiding his toes. After a few seconds she followed his lead as if she’d been born to dance with him. She pushed aside the stray thought and allowed herself to appreciate the hauntingly beautiful music. The sultry tones washed over her, through her, soaked into her. It was magical. Laughing as the music ended, she leaned into Jhaan’s strength while she caught her breath. That wicked part of her enjoyed the security of his arm around her waist as he escorted her back to their table. Taking her seat, she was aware of that odd tickling sensation once more. Putting a hand to her head, she wondered if she’d had too much wine. The oddest thoughts were flickering through her mind. “How long does the dancing last?” she asked. He sipped his wine, all the while gazing down at her through hooded eyes. He made even that simple act provocative. His other arm slid along the back of her chair once more, and she felt his fingers again playing with the long strands of her hair. “A while longer. The rising will occur shortly.”
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“Why are—” Rianna broke off and met the heated, molten gold of his eyes, forgetting her question. His beautiful face was intent as his fingertips left her hair and rose to lightly trace the delicate curves of her cheek. His gaze was a physical brush against her skin. “Jhaan…?” she began, then stopped. Every thought scattered like thistle in the wind as she felt herself falling into those mesmerizing eyes. A quiet sigh escaped her lips and his gaze dropped to her mouth. That tickling sensation at the back of her mind suddenly flared into an inferno of sensuous images, unbidden visions sweeping through her mind. She could see the two of them tangled in silken sheets. She was arching against Jhaan’s hard body, her hands grasping frantically at his shoulders as he rolled over to position her on top of him, their undulating motion unbroken. Rianna felt her blood catch fire, her heart slam in her chest. The sensuous images transfixed her, the room fading from her consciousness. An answering wildness rose from somewhere deep within her, demanding release. She wanted him—no! It went far beyond that. She burned for him. The unfamiliar taste of desire coated her tongue, drying her throat. Her eyes slitted nearly shut as her passion rose to answer his, encouraging him. Rianna barely felt the feather touch of fingers brushing against the outer curve of her breast, the action hidden from the room by his body’s position. Light as the touch was, it snapped her back to her senses. These weren’t her thoughts! These images weren’t originating from her mind. They were his. With a horrified cry, Rianna broke the contact, leaping to her feet. The sudden motion sent her chair tumbling backwards to the floor with a resounding crash. She backed away from him, aghast. Raising a shaking hand she pressed it against her mouth even as the images continued to dance through her mind for moment longer before abruptly dissolving. She could still feel the heat winding through her belly, leaving her burning with need, her body making relentless urgent demands upon her. She heard herself moan with that unfamiliar hunger. Jhaan rose to his feet, his face blank as he calmly straightened her chair, holding it for her to resume her seat. “Please sit down.” Rianna hesitated, almost frightened as she stared at him.
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Telepathy! Mind control! How could such a thing be possible? She had heard of people possessing some degree of uncanny awareness, but nothing to this extent. A part of her refused to believe the existence of such a supernatural concept. The notion was abhorrent! Struggling to rein in her imagination, Rianna couldn’t deny the images that had invaded her mind. A shiver of revulsion swept through her at the thought of someone messing with her mind, of being privy to her most private thoughts. “Please,” he repeated, his voice pitched low for her ears only. “We will talk later.” It was then that she became conscious of the silence in the room. Tearing her eyes away from his, she noticed that every head was turned towards the two of them. Even the musicians had halted, instruments held poised. Suddenly this magical evening threatened to dissolve into a surreal illusion. Staring around at all those faces, she wondered if those sensual images were visible in her face. The color rose in her cheeks before she regained her self-control. With a defiant tilt of her chin, years of court training came to her rescue as she controlled her fear, stamping down on it with a ruthless determination. Still, she hesitated before stepping forward, careful to avoid any physical contact with Jhaan as she slipped back into her seat. Deliberately, she kept both her face and mind blank. What she had just experienced had been very real. Not a hallucination. Questions whirled through her mind, flooding her thoughts, demanding answers she did not possess. A part of her wanted to run screaming, to hide from this invasion on her senses, but she forced herself to remain seated. The countess leaned forward to peer around her husband, her expression one of profound concern as her gaze touched first on Rianna, then turned to Jhaan. Rianna could barely bring herself to look at her. Laurine was one of them! Had the budding friendship between them been a sham? Had the other woman been planting suggestions in her mind, making Rianna like her? Did she have an ulterior motive? The thoughts swirled faster and faster until she began to feel dizzy with them. And Markin? A glance in the direction of the other man showed him watching the scene with an intent expression. He had not come near her all evening. In fact, she would have said he was actively avoiding her.
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Jhaan felt the whirl of emotions threatening Rianna’s control. He was careful to allow none of his thoughts to show on his face, but with the slight heat in his cheeks, Jhaan knew a sense of embarrassment. With all his years of training, he had never before experienced a psi spillover— not since he was a boy. He had been idly anticipating the coming night when he lost control of his fantasies and allowed them to spill over into the link he now shared with Rianna. It was a testimony to his state of mind that it occurred in a room full of people. The Linking Feast was proving to be an endless torment for him, testing his resolve to its fullest. He wanted nothing more than to be done with this pomp and ceremony and be alone with his mate. “Everything is well, Jhaan?” Laurine inquired softly, her gaze switching to him. “Is Rianna unwell? Does she require aid?” “She is fine, Laurine. Thank you for your concern,” Jhaan answered calmly enough, his eyes never leaving Rianna. Slowly, his gaze traveled over her closed expression and traced the tight lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. He was careful not to invade her thoughts. Much as he recognized her fear, was aware of her abhorrence, he could not use their link to alleviate her uneasiness. He had to earn her trust. He could not influence her in any way, not physically nor psychically. Such an act on his part would be construed as confirmation of her fears. She must come to trust him of her own accord, otherwise she would always have doubts as to whether he had influenced her decisions or not. Signaling one of the servants, he accepted another glass of sky wine, gesturing the same young man to refill Rianna’s goblet. He had to somehow find a way to explain his deception in making Rianna his wife. He knew she would not take kindly to his dishonesty. He dropped his eyes to the untouched wine in his hands, moving the fragile glass in little circles. Magistrate deMallori had been instructed to file the record of his marriage in Dakar City without delay. By morning his family would be informed of the ceremony. He was cognizant to Rianna’s shock and suspicions even as she woodenly went through the motions of sampling the many dishes passed before her. He felt her desire to run, to escape the close confines of his company. The knowledge sent a shaft of pain ripping through him.
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An acute pain caught Rianna by surprise. She’d been pretending that everything was normal when the intensity of the emotion brought a sheen of tears to her eyes. Somehow she knew the pain originated from Jhaan. Without glancing up at him, she set down her glass with a decisive click, pushing it aside. She knew Jhaan’s attention was still focused on her. That faint sense of him was at the back of her mind, somehow muted, but still present. Shaking any remaining fuzziness from her mind, she made an effort to center herself in her own reality, to examine both her own reaction and this phenomenon intellectually. She was an educated woman. She had studied other cultures and countless worlds. Yet she was almost surprised to realize that there was no sense of invasion or encroachment. Frowning, she concentrated on what she felt deep down. Instead she felt a sense of wholeness, like the missing piece of a puzzle had fallen into place. There had to be some explanation. Part of the mystery surrounding Dakar must be the fact that its people possessed telepathic powers. That such a Talent was so well concealed pointed toward a fear of outsiders discovering this ability. Rianna stirred the creamy dish placed before her, so absorbed with her thoughts that she absently accepted yet another full glass of wine from the hovering attendant. Taking a sip of the vintage, she considered the general reaction to such an ability. To the superstitious there would, of course, be fear. To the unscrupulous there might be an opportunity to take advantage. Even the most level-headed individual would question whether this was a form of mental compulsion. A shiver feathered her flesh as she considered that possibility. Thinking back over the past few days, she was fairly certain that she had not experienced any type of mental compulsion. Or as certain as she could be. Although she had acted out of character upon a couple of instances, she could attribute that fact more to the attraction Jhaan held for her than any chance of psychic coercion. She couldn’t deny that she wanted him. Sweeping a glance at him, she wondered where her indignation was—her alarm? She was almost shocked to realize she felt no sense of violation. With this acknowledgment, much of her fear dissolved and she tried to imagine the reaction of a population fearful of a world peopled with psychics. Distrust, fear and revulsion would only
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be the beginning. What would be the reaction of normally sensible people to the question of telepathy? How did one deal with a people able to read your innermost secrets? “And so you see our dilemma,” Jhaan murmured, startling her from her absorption. His voice was low and intimate, sending a shiver of a different sort down her spine. Searching his face, she caught something unguarded in his eyes before it was gone and for the first time realized that he needed both her support and her trust. Craved it. She could feel the emotion coming off of him in waves, muffling the hurt that centered in her stomach. It was then that she knew he had never used compulsion to control any of her actions. There was a sense of honor, an uncompromising integrity in him, that was so clear to her. She felt herself relax and forced herself to confront any prejudices she might subconsciously possess, to intelligently examine the aspect of this ability from every direction. “Can everyone here on Dakar read minds?” Jhaan was silent for so long that she held her breath, waiting for his answer. “It is not so much reading minds as we have the ability to recognize emotions and see images that are actively projected from one mind to another,” he said at last. “You were able to read my mind just now. How else could you know my conclusions?” Rianna felt a resurgence of fear shiver down her spine before she steeled herself to ignore this instinctive reaction. She could handle this. “The psi Talent is particularly strong in my family, and we have been…intimate,” he added, glancing down for an instant before meeting her eyes. “This increases the link between us.” “Does everyone on this world possess such an ability?” “To a certain degree. But only when you allow it. The people here tonight were only able to read any particularly strong emotions you broadcasted.” Rianna felt the color rise in her cheeks as she briefly wondered if the other guests had been privy to those explicitly sexual images she had intercepted. Which emotions had they caught? Those? Or the initial horror she’d experienced when she realized that Dakar was peopled by psychics? “No!” Jhaan easily followed the train of her thoughts. “The guests of the count and countess only felt your fear. They could have no way of knowing the cause.”
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Rianna was silent as she absorbed his words, pushing aside her embarrassment as she slowly realized that a part of her was finding this fascinating. It was intriguing to think what an advantage this ability would give one. A tantalizing thought. “Why am I able to read your thoughts?” “I…was clumsy,” he admitted after a few seconds, a tinge of red rising in his cheeks. “I had been indulging in idle thoughts when you intercepted my…fantasies.” His expression was earnest, and despite herself, Rianna felt herself disarmed. “You, yourself, possess a substantial degree of natural psychic ability, Rianna. The herb mixed in the wine earlier…” “The tinsin herb.” “Yes. In and of itself the herb is relatively harmless. It merely enhances any psychic ability an individual already has. Had you possessed nothing by way of sensitivity, the herb would have done nothing.” “I—” Rianna’s next words were interrupted by the striking of a timepiece, its pure tones ringing out, bringing all conversation to a halt. She glanced around curiously. Silence fell while the chimes continued. There was a moment of suspended movement and then, with much merriment, the guests rose as one and turned towards the now open terrace doors. Gerrard and Laurine led the mass exodus out onto the flagstone patio and into the night. Rianna saw nothing of Markin. He appeared to have vanished. Jhaan stood and extended his hand to her. She hesitated, staring at those strong fingers held so steadily out to her, unwilling for the moment to touch him. She had so much to consider, so much to think about. “It is the rising of Roma,the second moon,” Jhaan said as he continued to hold out his hand to her. “The Lunar Festival takes place between the rising of the two moons of Dakar. It ends with the sinking of Norda.” He did nothing to force her compliance or attempt to influence her in any way. It was the suppressed emotions she sensed behind his carefully blank expression that had her reaching out to him, curling her fingers into his and allowing him to assist her to her feet. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she thought she heard him sigh with relief.
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On the terrace, they joined the assembled guests, staring into the sky at the rising of Roma. The stars were absolutely brilliant, no clouds to obscure the night display. Rianna turned west to find the first moon, Norda, riding low on the horizon, sitting fat on the cusp of sinking from sight. The second moon was just peaking over the eastern sky, its reflected light brightening the night and fading the countless stars strewn across the black velvet of the heavens. The beauty of the night took her breath away. There was a sense of collectively held breath before the brightening sky literally exploded into a flurry of color. Rianna’s mouth dropped open with astonishment as bird-like creatures of countless color and description erupted from every direction, rising into the still night sky. They seemed to hover motionless for an instant before they swooped across the heavens in an aerial veil just above the heads of the assembled audience. Their cries ranged from the highest pitch right down to a sonorous baritone as their sweet music filled the night air, their display of acrobats holding everyone entranced, making it impossible to look away. Rianna stared—stunned, enchanted. The creatures swirled in an intricate dance, breaking away and then reforming to continue their joyous acrobatics. It was a wonder that none of them collided, so close did they fly. Rianna felt Jhaan’s warmth as he stood close behind her, the press of his body triggering renewed awareness within her. Watching the display, she was almost surprised to realize that what fear and distrust she had felt earlier had completely faded, replaced with a sense of contentment. With a new confidence she leaned back into his strength, feeling his arms steal around her waist. His chin rested on the top of her head, his arms crossed in front of her to hold her snug to his taller frame. Rianna wondered if she had consumed too much wine as a new tranquility stole over and through her. In silence they shared the enchantment of the moment. Slowly, slowly, Norda sank beyond the horizon, vanquished at last by the night. As if by magic, the avians vanished and silence fell. Roma continued to rise in solitary splendor, the natural moonlight bathing the night once more in silver. With an effort Rianna roused herself, drawing a deep breath which shook with the strength of her emotions. She wanted this night to continue forever. The magic never to end.
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“That was incredible,” she whispered, her voice husky as she snuggled back into the warmth of the man holding her. “Thank you, Jhaan, for sharing it with me.” The guests began taking their leave, pausing beside them to bow first to Rianna and then to Jhaan as they extended good wishes and made their farewells. Soon they were the only two remaining on the terrace. “What happens now?” Rianna asked softly. A hush had fallen over the terrace, the silence broken only by the cry of a night creature somewhere beyond the gardens. Only the slightest of warm breezes passed over them, bringing the heady scent of night blooming flowers. It seemed criminal to break the peace. “Now we retire for the evening.” The odd note in Jhaan’s voice caused Rianna to look up at him. A sense of anticipation gripped her. Hands moving back to her shoulders, Jhaan gently turned her until she faced him, tilting her head back to stare up into his eyes. The shadows were deep enough that reading his expression was impossible, but his golden eyes glowed with an inner fire. His mouth had relaxed to a sensuous smile, promising untold pleasure. There was no mistaking the sensual heat she felt radiating off of him. Nor could she deny the response triggered deep within her. Desire curled its way up from the pit of Rianna’s stomach, seeping throughout her body with an effervescent force. She tried to convince herself that these feelings came from the wine she consumed earlier, but discarded that theory. She knew Jhaan was no longer reading her thoughts. He’d done something to mute his presence, allowing her a measure of privacy which she found reassuring. No, he wasn’t controlling or seducing her through any mind control. This rising desire was generated by his actions alone. He pressed his lips against her throat, kissing her, lingering to sweep his tongue over her frantically fluttering pulse. Passion curled like smoke over her senses, igniting a responsive chord until a wildness rose within her to dizzying heights. Hungry. Demanding. He raised his head, stark possession burning in his golden eyes. She shivered, feeling a sense of exhilaration that she could ignite such a self-controlled man. She wanted him. Duty be damned.
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Chapter Nine Savoring the moment, Jhaan framed her face between his palms, bending to brush her mouth with his, gently, tenderly. He kept the pressure light, releasing her lips to press a caress to the corner of her mouth before feathering light kisses down to her chin. At last he could release his iron control. He could feel her responding to him through their Link. The effort of repressing his emotions was agonizing. With deMallori acting as a conduit, the Linking Ceremony clarified and heightened their psi connection. The bonding would be completed when he consummated their marriage. Two halves made whole. Straightening, he gazed down at her. She was enchanting. Beautiful as she was, her attraction had increased tenfold with the performance of the ceremony. Her skin glowed with an inner illumination, her green eyes deeper, mysterious. Under his tender ministrations, those eyes drifted shut, drugged by the sultry sensations burning within. Her hands, resting lightly on his shoulders, curled into the material of his tunic, bunching the fabric. Staring down into her drowsy eyes, Jhaan tightened his hands on her shoulders, allowing himself to release the depth of his dark hunger, making no secret of his need for her. Gently he sent out a mental probe, feathering over her emotions, finding desire burning high. Intermixed with her rising passions, he caught a hint of uncertainty, a touch of fear. It was that fear which nearly caused him to retreat until he realized its origin stemmed from her apprehension of the sensuality that sparked between them rather than any lingering doubt of his psychic Talent. The realization inflamed him further. Recapturing her mouth, he deepened the kiss until her lips parted on a hungry moan. Immediately he swept his tongue into her mouth, tangling with hers in a sensuous dance. He made a conscious effort to suppress his desire through their link. He wanted the honesty of her passion, not a reflection of his own. When he felt her stiffen against him, he softened his kisses, exploring her mouth with a thoroughness that left her clinging to him with renewed fervor. 96
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Despite his efforts, he knew he was feeding her hunger with his own through their link, but he couldn’t stop himself. The intimacy of their connection was flooding his senses, awakening his body with urgent, relentless demand. He needed to touch her emotions, to know she was as aroused as he. That she felt as he did. With reluctance, he released her lips and drew a deep breath. His hands came up to frame her face, his thumb lightly feathering over her reddened lips. “I want you, Rianna.” Even as he projected the thought to her, he felt her start of surprise followed by a ripple of unease through their link. Sweeping in on her reaction, he found no fear. Only astonishment to hear his words within her mind. “I cannot. You know I am betrothed.” Her words were low, husky, tinged with a real regret. “You are not betrothed.” Deliberately Jhaan held their link open, wordlessly encouraging her to follow the mental path back to his mind, to read his emotions, to know his desires. “Your consent was not obtained.” Male possessiveness roiled briefly along their link before he savagely suppressed it. Now was not the time to inform her that she was already wed. He waited with an agony of suspense while she visibly fought her warring emotions. Then he felt it. A faint surge along their mental link as she awkwardly followed the path back to his mind, making that first foray, venturing into the unknown. He could feel what the effort cost her, both physically and emotionally. “A mere formality.” He heard her words clearly in his head and he wanted to shout with triumph. The sensation was incredibly intimate and his body clenched as desire tore through him, the physical evidence impossible to conceal where she was pressed against him. The initial shock that shimmered through her faded into a sense of sensual intrigue. Deliberately he encouraged that fascination with a simple, gentle wave of his own desire, mingling it with hers, amplifying it. “Can you truly deny what you feel between us?” he said aloud, his voice husky. “Can you deny yourself?” Rianna’s breath caught in her throat on a near sob. She knew he was seducing her, both with his words and with his mind. She could feel the gentle flows heightening her own passions, yet could find nothing alarming. Part of her accepted this as perfectly natural.
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It was natural, she realized with a sense of wonder. There was something within her that responded to Jhaan’s psi ability. But could she turn her back on her duty to her family? The thought of marrying Saris was repugnant. What were the consequences to her world should she refuse to bind Salazar and Turnis together through marriage? “Can you, Rianna?” She stared into his eyes. Could she? For the first time in her life, she felt so alive, so empowered with both herself and another human being. There were no obligations here, no duty. It was just the two of them. Could she so easily give herself to a virtual stranger? She couldn’t hide her response to him. Didn’t bother to try. Incredibly sexy, the man could make her forget everything. Studying the passionate warmth in those golden eyes, she knew her answer. Throwing back her head in a sudden fit of recklessness, Rianna slid her hands up over the hard contours of his chest to twine her arms around his neck, burrowing her fingers into the thickness of his hair, loosening it from its confining band and luxuriating in its silken mass. “No, I cannot.” Duty be damned. “I want this.” She allowed the dangerous yearning to sweep over her. She wanted to experience this sense of completion she knew was hers for the taking. Her entire life had been one of obedience and necessity. This one time she was going to take control of her own destiny. Indulge in her carnal desires. “I want you.” Without hesitation, letting instinct guide her actions, she dropped her guards and opened her mind to his, allowing her complete acceptance to stream through that curious link. Her surrender unconditional. Jhaan’s golden eyes seemed to catch fire as he read her decision. Rianna gave a gasp as he swung her up into his arms, flinging her arms around his neck as the world tilted and whirled. Turning, he bypassed the wide glassed doors leading back into the ballroom to stride purposefully along the terrace and into the night-shrouded gardens. The lush foliage swayed with their passage, the night insects momentarily silent, then resuming their chorus upon their passing. Rounding a corner he came to a flight of marble stairs leading upward into darkness.
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Rianna kept her face pressed into the warmth of his throat. She didn’t care about their destination. Without conscious thought she rubbed her cheek against his heated flesh, breathing in his spicy male scent, drawing in his intoxicating essence. The staid Zarian part of her screamed at her to stop this now before it went too far. Horrified at her rash, indiscreet actions. The reckless part of her urged her to explore these incredible sensations vibrating through every nerve ending. Her rational mind fought and lost the battle as her reasoning faded behind the clamor of desire. She was conscious of everything around her, from the sound of Jhaan’s ringing footsteps on the marble balcony, to the haunting cry of a night-bird as the huge creature swept through the night, briefly illuminated against the moon of Roma before vanishing once more into the darkness. Jhaan shouldered open one set of windowed doors, sweeping Rianna into the shadowy room. Without pausing, he continued until he reached the far end of the room, sinking into a cushioned chair and settling her into his lap, nestling her bottom into the cradle of his hips. Rianna sat up and swept back the length of hair that fell over her forehead. The intimacy of this position made her shatteringly aware of the need in him. Placing her hands lightly on his broad chest, she glanced around the room. The chair they occupied was set before a massive fireplace in which a small fire crackled, the heat redundant on such a mild night, but its ambience calming and hypnotic. Wall sconces glowed, turned low to plunge much of the room into shadow, creating an intimate atmosphere. Her eyes returned to the shadowed planes of his face. In this moment she wanted him more than she could have imagined possible. She knew he was aware of this. The snapping of an ember in the fireplace sent up a shower of sparks, illuminating his expression for an instant. Rianna’s eyes were captured by the molten gold of his gaze, the stark need in his features melting any lingering resistance. There was something so seductive in being the object of such an unrelenting hunger. She allowed a slow feminine smile to curve over her lips, as mysterious as time itself.
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A low growl rumbled in his chest as he again captured her face between his hands, drawing her close, then paused a hairbreadth from his goal. “Tell me again you want me.” His voice was harsh with control. “Rianna, I need to hear this.” Her head already awhirl with fiery need, Rianna could deny him nothing. Any more than she could deny herself. Leaning forward to bridge the distance between them she pressed a hesitant kiss against his mouth, the tip of her tongue darting out to touch the hard lines where his lips parted. She felt his pulse leap under her fingers. The power she held over him was a heady drug, an intoxicating wine. The memory of their earlier intimacy in the forest swept through her mind and sent a pulsating shaft of heat low in her belly. She wanted to feel that again. She wanted to experience that out of control, shivering release that only Jhaan could draw from her. “I want you.” She did not hesitate to use the mental link Jhaan had somehow established between the two of them. Her first attempt had been difficult, clumsy. It became easier each time she accessed the link. Despite her earlier alarm, the experience of the contact was exhilarating— erotic. It built an intimacy, a sense of oneness that twined through her senses. Filaments of Jhaan’s consciousness twisted into hers, binding her psyche to his. She knew an instant of panic, but just as swiftly the alarm faded and a sense of serenity flooded through her. Whatever snare her subconscious was caught in, it was mutual. She felt the flare of Jhaan’s fiery hunger at her acceptance, her surrender to both his desire and her own. He was as much a captive as she. Her lips parted in tempting challenge. With a muffled oath, Jhaan lowered his head to capture her mouth with his, deepening their kiss until she clung helplessly to his strength. Slowly, he released her reddened lips, his gaze sweeping over her bemused expression with what could only be called possessive satisfaction. “Merge your mind with mine, Rianna, maarai. Fully, without reservation,” he whispered against her lips before he trailed a series of kisses down her throat, his tongue pausing to caress her frantic pulse.
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Rianna hesitated an instant before she discarded her inhibitions and freed her consciousness to race along the path of their link. Their merging was an explosion of sensation, each emotion, both male and female so alike, yet so very different. She found his mind in a roiling cauldron of masculine hunger, his natural aggression urgent with the need to dominate and take. The erotic images sifting through his head further aroused her own heightened desires, and she moaned, eyes drifting shut as she flung back her head to expose her throat to his mouth. Jhaan shuddered under her touch and she grew bolder, splaying her hands over his chest and slipping her fingers between the fastenings of his tunic until she found the mat of auburn hair covering his chest. She had an instant of uncertainty before she allowed instinct to guide her actions. Trying to gather her spiraling thoughts, she pulled back, staring into his gaze only inches away before shifting to his mouth. No man should have such a mouth. Temptation itself. Closing the distance, she brushed her lips against his. His tongue emerged to trace the curve of her full lower lip, teasing them apart before sweeping inside to take possession of her mouth with all the assurance of a conquering barbarian. Rianna shuddered as he explored every inch of her mouth, pausing to briefly duel with her tongue and sending her senses into a spin. The tension built to a feverish pitch. A low growl rumbled in his throat as her fingers slipped into the gap of his shirt and brushed against one nipple. Without warning, hard hands caught her hips and lifted her until she straddled him, her mound pressed intimately to his groin. Her skirts were no barrier as they twisted around her thighs. Jhaan’s hands dropped to run caressingly up the outside of her legs, baring her flesh to his touch. Through her underclothes, she felt her body heat, moisture forming in response. Unable to stop herself, her consciousness once again reached out to tangle with his. She found a beguiling mixture of anticipation and desire that made her hunger rise to desperation. She tore her mouth from his long enough to stare into his eyes. Once again she allowed that slow, feminine smile to curve her lips as she read his blazing need in both his expression and in his mind.
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She closed the distance once more, her slick heat pressed firmly against his arousal. Her tongue darted out to lap at the base of his throat, savoring the flavor of him, at the same time salty and spicy. All masculine. Pausing at the hollow of his throat she parted his clothing to expose more flesh, the heavy muscles capturing first her gaze, then her mouth as she bent to run her tongue into the mat of curling hair to locate the taut nipple nestled there. Through their link she could feel what he so urgently wanted, what his body demanded, what he needed. She wasn’t so innocent as to be ignorant of the workings of the human body. She felt his fingers brush against her throat, sweeping lower until he found the fastening of her gown. The night air wafting through the still open glass doors cooled her heated flesh as the material slid from her shoulders, before the curve of her breast halted its decent. Rianna felt the flare of his passions as the gown lost its battle with gravity and slid lower. His gaze darkened as her breasts were revealed, her nipples already hardened with anticipation. Feeling the cool air flow across her bare breasts Rianna heard herself moan, half with desire, half with embarrassment. His hands slid over her hips and up her waist, closing over both breasts, his bronze hands dark against her skin. Gentle hands molded her smooth flesh before he raised one breast to his descending mouth, pausing to press a kiss to the crest before running his tongue across the nipple. Rianna cried out as desire shafted through her, arching against that erotic mouth. He caught the tip between his lips and suckled until she squirmed on his lap, her hips undulating against the hardened bulge pressed so intimately against her. Without interrupting his attentions, Jhaan slid his hands down to the rounded curve of her buttocks, cupping her firmly before rising in one smooth motion. Rianna’s head whirled, for a moment disorientated, until she felt the softness of the mattress under her. Stirring, a belated sense of self-preservation reared its head despite her own blazing need. Jhaan must have detected her rising alarm, because he raised his head to gaze down at her with burning eyes. Silently she met his eyes for an endless moment. “Are you—are you controlling me?” She swallowed hard, aware of the huskiness of her voice. She had to ask. She had to know if she was being seduced with a mental compulsion. Fumbling for an instant, she deliberately held their merge open to catch any sign of subterfuge,
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gauging both his expression and emotions. The glimpse she caught of his emotions was reassuring as he struggled to clear his mind of the haze of desire, seeing his possessive need, the impression of male outrage. It took her a moment to untangle the mesh of emotions and she slowly relaxed as a sense of relief swept over her. When Jhaan dropped his head to rest a moment against her breast, Rianna felt his struggle for control. When he finally raised his head to stare down at her, she could not miss the stark possession burning in his golden eyes. “No, my Rianna. No man of Dakar would ever force a woman. Not physically nor mentally.” His voice was deeper, the huskiness brushing along her spine and sending a shiver sweeping through her. His eyes never leaving hers, he pushed the material of her gown farther down her hips, watching her reaction. Bending his head, he pressed a string of kisses along the curve of her hip and across the flatness of her belly, pausing to swirl his tongue into the indentation of her bellybutton. Her muscles clenched under his erotic attention. “What you feel are your own desires, maarai. Our merge allows you to sense my emotions, which in turn reflects and amplifies your own to greater heights,” he murmured, his tone deepening as he caressed her, pausing to gently bite at the flesh of her stomach. Rianna found it difficult to concentrate on his words, wanting instead to surrender to the sensual barrage on her emotions. The moment was imprinted in her mind, never to be forgotten, no matter what the future brought. This moment was hers. Hers and Jhaan’s. Sensing her final surrender, Jhaan moved to kneel between her legs, raising first one foot and then the other to remove her slippers, dropping them to the floor. He caught the material of her gown where it was bunched at her hips, stripping it from her body and taking with it the last of her underclothes. The last of her inhibitions vanished along with her clothing. Rianna gave him another comehither smile, stretching her arms over her head and arching her back in a silent offering. Jhaan felt his mouth go dry as he ran his gaze over her lithe form from the top of her tousled black hair, over the perfection of her full breasts to rest on the triangle of black silky curls at the juncture of her legs. Firmly muscled, she was soft in all the right places—exquisite.
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Standing, he tore off his clothes, aware of her eyes following his every move. Her darkened gaze drifted over his shoulders, followed the mat of hair sprinkling his broad chest before dropping to skim over his flat stomach and pausing to stare at his arousal. Jhaan made no effort to conceal the effect she had on him. For what seemed an eternity she stared at him, before she finally returned her gaze to his face. Offering him another one of those taunting little half-smiles, she held out her arms in silent invitation. With a groan, Jhaan slid into her embrace and captured her mouth with his own. He pressed kiss upon wild kiss on her lips until her mouth parted and her tongue darted out to duel with his, matching him caress for caress. His hand dropped to the silken curls below her waist, finding her heat, testing her readiness. A small moan escaped her lips and her body arched against his hand. Raising his head Jhaan watched her expression, seeing the feverish wildness of her stormy green eyes—the swirling emotions she could not conceal. His fingers were slippery with her dew as he withdrew them. All the while staring into her eyes as he deliberately raised them to his lips, inhaling her scent, tasting her. Her psi reaction inflamed him further and with a low moan, he parted her legs. Settling himself between them, his cock pressed against her moist heat, need raged through him. He fought his own instincts to surge forward and carefully eased into her entrance. She was so tight, her folds resisting his invasion before giving way under his steady pressure. Her discomfort reverberated through their Link and she stiffened with alarm, catching his arms on either side of her. “Jhaan?” “Shh, maarai. Feel with your heart and your mind.” Sweat beaded his brow as he brushed her mind, soothing her panic. After a long minute, her muscles relaxed and she bent one leg to slide up along his hip. “Yes.” Her head fell back and her eyes closed as she absorbed his emotions. Sliding one hand under her buttocks, Jhaan surged forward, tearing past the thin barrier of her innocence and burying himself deeply within her. Her gasp was captured against his mouth and he stilled, allowing her to adjust to his invasion. The tightness was exquisite and he had to fight to maintain his control as he tenderly kissed her parted lips.
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He concentrated on sending her sensual images, rebuilding her desire to that feverish pitch previously achieved, not pausing until he felt her reawakening passion. Reaching down, he slid his fingers through her dark curls and pressed against her clit. Her hips jerked, causing him to grit his teeth at the exquisite torture. Through their link, Jhaan felt her fading discomfort and rising pleasure. His mind was so firmly entwined with hers, he was able to gauge her response, feeling her restless movements under him. With care he began to move, slowly at first, then increasing his pace. Cradling her rounded buttocks with both hands, he raised her hips to deepen his thrusts. Her body arched into his, moving with him as she now reached for him, seeking to satisfy the fiery pressure threatening to spiral her out of control. Without warning her body tightened around his cock as her orgasm slammed through her. “Jhaan!” “Yes, maarai. Let yourself go,” he gasped against her throat, encouraging her lost control. He felt the nip of her teeth against his flesh, but the small pain only heightened his own pleasure. Savoring her passion, Jhaan surged deeper into her with harder, more frantic strokes. Her fierce release triggered his own wild satisfaction. Buried deep within her, he stilled, holding himself motionless as he pumped his seed into her, his own shout lost against her mouth. There was a moment of silence as he struggled to recover his breath, a fine sheen of sweat covering them, the heat of their bodies releasing a sexual scent.
Rianna stirred first, smoothing her fingers over the contours of his face as she tried to slow her racing heart. His flowing hair fell forward to tickle against her throat, sliding with silky softness over her heaving breasts. After what seemed an eternity, Jhaan raised his head to stare into her eyes, a satisfied smile curving his mouth. His gaze was possessive as it wandered over her face, dropping to sweep over her breasts before continuing down to where they were still joined. His arms tightened around her with unmistakable possession as he bent his head to brush a kiss over her temple, following the curve of her cheek to her throat where he ran his tongue over her pulse in a long sweeping caress.
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Rianna felt the heat rising in her cheeks as he made his lazy perusal, finally conscious of her own nudity and the intimacy of their position. Her discomfort quivered through their link, bringing Jhaan’s head up to search her face before bending to press a kiss to her lips. With care he eased himself from her and rolled onto his back, catching her around the waist and pulling her into the curve of his shoulder. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about, maarai.” Despite herself Rianna flinched when she heard his words so clearly in her head. Shooting an upward glance, she moistened her lips, still tasting him. Hearing his voice within her mind was still a disconcerting experience. Firmly, she stamped down on that renewed flicker of fear even as she bit her tongue on questions vying to be voiced. Instead, she burrowed her face against his chest. Drawing a deep breath, she savored his scent mingled with the musky smell of their recent lovemaking. Jhaan’s attention was still fixed on her face as he waited for her to come to terms with their actions. He felt her helpless renewal of alarm, yet did nothing to help or hinder her acceptance. He longed to soothe her fears, to alleviate them, but waited. Inside, he wanted to shout out his joy. For the first time in his life he truly felt complete. This moment made all of the long cycles of waiting worthwhile. He brushed his fingers down her arm to fit in the perfect indentation of her waist, unwilling to cease his exploration of her silken skin. She was fascinating. “That was incredible,” she whispered in a broken voice, turning her face up from where she had it hidden against his neck. “What is it about you, Jhaan? You make me lose all control.” Jhaan’s relief was immense as he realized the direction of her discomfort. That she was dwelling more on behavior rather than any fear over her budding telepathic ability. He was careful not to let his amusement slip over. “The feeling is mutual, Rianna, maarai. I’ve never felt anything like this.” He intercepted the look of disbelief she shot him. “It is true. No woman has ever made me go up in flames as you did.”
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Again a partial truth. Admitting to Rianna that she, and only she, could arouse his passions would invite far too many questions that he was both unprepared and unwilling to answer at this time. Rianna snuggled her face once more against his shoulder, allowing herself to be reassured. She knew the consequences of her irresponsible deeds. One of the conditions of the marriage contract was her untouched virtue. What this would do to the negotiations she did not know. Still, she could not regret her actions. For the first time in her life she felt empowered, confident and desired. What she had just shared with Jhaan felt right—natural. How could she regret something which made her feel so alive? Even now she could feel the lingering pleasure coursing through her bloodstream, causing a new shiver to dance over her skin. Part in anticipation. Part in apprehension. What she did regret was that she was not free to explore this sensual world with Jhaan san deCain. The knowledge of her impending betrothal hung heavy over her head, dampening her contentment and giving rise to a sense of guilt. Jhaan was aware of most of her thoughts. Their link pulsed with her confusion and sudden resolve. Slipping his hand under her chin he raised her face from his shoulder, his gaze gentle as he reached for her mind with his, brushing intimately against her consciousness as he soothed her chaotic thoughts. “Shh,” Jhaan murmured aloud as he pressed a caressing finger over her lips, turning his hand to cup her chin, then span her throat. “We have all night.”
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Chapter Ten The journey from Dionne City to Dakar City was made in the comfort of a small transport. Her first sight of Dakar City was a revelation. As modern as any city found on Salazar, it managed to retain an old world feel. The wide boulevards teemed with a combination of sirahs and transports, the noise level almost deafening. Tall, vibrantly colored structures rose a dozen stories into the sky, blinding white, deepest orange, a quantum leap from the sterile cities of Salazar. And the plant life. Massive trees marched along every street, soaring overhead to compete with the height of some of the manmade structures. Countless balconies and wide windows streamed with foliage and flowering plants which twined down the side of nearly every structure. Rianna twisted in her seat, trying to see everything at once. Jhaan handled the controls of the transport with easy assurance, pointing out numerous sights of interest. Shades of his amusement colored his thoughts until she pinched his arm. A palace towering like a small mountain over the rest of the city drew her fascinated glance. Gleaming white spires rose high into the air, tipped with onion shaped roofs from which numerous pennants and flags flowed in the gentle breeze. High walls surrounded it, festooned with flowering vines of every description, providing bright splashes of color against what could have been a stark edifice. The fantastical structure dominated the city with its beauty and grace. Rianna realized they were following a wide boulevard leading toward the palace. As they drew closer, a shiver of disquiet traveled down her spine. “Where are we going?” she asked as she twisted around in her seat to confront Jhaan. Jhaan’s hesitation lasted for only an instant, long enough to further rouse her suspicions. “We are going to…my home.” A hint of evasiveness laced his voice. An evasiveness that echoed through her mind. His glance met hers briefly before returning once more to the road. Rianna was silent, her mind leaping from one conclusion to another. Her anger mounted. “I assume you do not work at the palace.” 108
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“Rianna…” “Nor are you a personal friend with the royal family. Am I correct?” “Rianna…” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a member of the ruling family, aren’t you?” Through their newly established link she felt his affirmation. Her temper slipped its leash and soared several more degrees. “When were you going to tell me, Jhaan?” “I meant to tell you.” “When? Today? Tomorrow? When? Are you perchance a cousin? A younger son?” She waited a second. When he remained silent her eyes narrowed further. “The eldest son of the ruling family?” “Rianna…” “You knew who I was all this time, didn’t you?” Her voice rose with each word. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she looked down at her hands as they twisted each other in a death grip. She had been a fool. Was his interest in her only for her rank? Forcing herself to relax her fingers, she drew a second breath. By the same token, did she have a right to be angry with his deception? “I knew.” Jhaan covered her hands with one of his. “I overheard your assailants refer to you as ‘princess’.” His quick assurance eased one of her fears, that he had somehow extracted the information through reading her mind. She was still apprehensive of that aspect of his ability. When he attempted to merge his consciousness with hers, she looked up quickly with renewed anger. “Knock it off,” she snapped. She knew what he would find if he accessed their Link. Her mind was in a chaotic blend of emotions ranging from burning anger to confusion to growing hurt. “Why are you angry? Your choice was to conceal your identity and mine was to respect your wish.” It dawned on Rianna that although she and Jhaan had indulged in the most intimate encounter two people could possibly share, she knew virtually nothing about him. Mouth-
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wateringly gorgeous, courageous and patient, yet until this moment she’d had absolutely no inkling as to his background or family—had not thought to ask. For this brief moment in time, she had willed herself to forget duty and obligation, those two cursed words. To enjoy the moment and the seven hells with the future. Rianna shook her head. She must have been dim-witted not to have seen it before. The apparent smoothness with which he took charge, the encounter with Captain Tammar, his obvious command. That right there should have given her a hint that he was more than he appeared. Instead, she had allowed herself to be blinded by her attraction for Jhaan. One steamy glance had turned her insides to mush and her good sense to idiocy. “I couldn’t tell you who I was,” she admitted at last in a low voice. She couldn’t decide what she felt. Her emotions were swinging in so many different directions, all of them disruptive to her peace of mind. For a long moment she bent her head, allowing the heavy fall of her hair to conceal her expression. Although why bother? How can she expect to conceal her thoughts from a man who could read her innermost secrets? “I didn’t know who you were or what your motives might be. You were a complete stranger.” She paused. “I still don’t know anything about you.” She detected an emotion almost too quick for her to read, but she was left with an impression of hurt. His eyes remained on the road but he reached out and caught her hand in his. “Considering that you had just had an attempt made upon your life, that was without a doubt wise. But later? Why did you continue to conceal your identity?” “I don’t know.” For the first time Rianna questioned her own actions and sighed. Her own motives were far more complex than she had allowed. How could she explain what she only half understood? “I think I enjoyed being treated like a regular person,” she said, speaking her thoughts aloud. “All my life, my every move was directed, dictated or watched. Here, with you, I was free for the first time. I was not Princess Rianna Chartier of the Zarian royal family. I was just a normal, ordinary person.”
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Jhaan’s smile was tender. His warm grasp on her hand tightened to draw her close until she was nestled against him, his arm curving around her shoulders. She felt the press of a gentle kiss to the top of her head before he returned his attention to the road. Rianna reminded herself that she had met him a mere two days earlier under trying circumstances. What he made her feel defied reason, yet something about him invited her trust. For only an instant, she considered the Dakarian ability at mind games but was forced to reject the thought. Something deep inside of her knew this was not the case. She trusted Jhaan and had wanted him last night, of her free will and unconditionally. There had been no compulsion, no coercion. Certainly no force. Lust directed her actions, plain and simple. She could not condemn the man for her own actions. Their passage through the open gates of the palace was met with a whirlwind of activity. Rianna stared up at the gleaming beauty of the palace with awe as Jhaan brought the transport to a halt at the foot of a wide expanse of stairs. Dozens of people halted all activity as Jhaan emerged from the vehicle, the hush lasting only seconds while he turned to extend a hand to Rianna. She glanced around curiously at the silence, smoothing nervous fingers over the skirts of the gown she wore. The brush of her fingers against the expensive material sounded loud in the stillness. Laurine had provided her with several articles of clothing. Her seamstresses must have been working all night as the clothes were a perfect fit. Now looking over the sea of faces turned expectantly towards her, she was doubly grateful to Laurine. The short jacket was gathered at her waist, while a matching skirt of deep burgundy flowed to the ground, concealing delicate slippers. Her flightsuit might have been adequate, but she felt far more confident properly attired. The breathless silence lasted only seconds before a cheer erupted from dozens of throats. The unbridled joy stunned Rianna, causing her to stumble before Jhaan took charge and swept her up the steps, his attitude at the same time possessive and protective. A sensory bombardment of emotions from so many people flowed over Rianna, overwhelming her. As they entered the palace of the ruling family of Dakar, Rianna had a fleeting impression of an immense hall floored with multi-colored tiles. Elaborate tapestries lined the walls and soared
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meters into the air. An enormous crystal chandelier hung over everything, ablaze with hundreds of light cells. Everywhere she looked were riches tempered with simple elegance. Jhaan did not pause as he led Rianna up the wide curving stairway, down one long corridor after another, up another flight of stairs until at last coming to a halt before a pair of tall wooden doors polished to a deep red sheen. An elderly servant darted ahead of Jhaan and flung the doors wide open with a flourish, bowing low to allow them to enter the suite of rooms. Rianna had a fleeting impression of a man clad in a coat of dark green topping pale cream trousers before she was whisked through the doors. The older man followed closely behind, shutting the doors on the servants who had followed in their wake. The glance he swept around the sitting room was almost frantic before he visibly relaxed. The look the man gave Jhaan held a touch of reproach as he rattled off several words in Dakarian. With finicky attention, he ran a surreptitious finger along one polished table, as if checking for any stray dust. He flicked away a smudge, evidently satisfied. Jhaan responded in the same language before he switched to Basic. “Thank you, Damo Joc, the rooms are in perfect condition, as always, but please, be so kind as to use Basic. My lady Rianna does not yet speak our language.” He turned to Rianna, performing an introduction. “Damo Joc has served my family for many cycles, maarai. If you need anything, no matter how rare, Joc is the man to find it.” If the man was surprised that Rianna was an off-worlder, he was too well trained to allow it to show. Even his emotions were held in tight control. He bowed low, first to Jhaan and then to Rianna. “At your command, my prince, m’lady. On behalf of the palace staff, m’lady, please accept our welcome to the ruling family.” Rianna felt a wealth of warmth for the man. His Basic was heavily accented and some of his cadences were a bit off, but it merely added to the charm of his words. “I am very pleased to meet you, Damo Joc. Thank you for your kind welcome.” The elderly retainer bowed again, his smile holding pleasure. After much fussing, he withdrew to allow them their privacy. Rianna looked around the room with curiosity.
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Jhaan’s stamp was on everything, from the rich deep red of the bedclothes and bed curtains, to the heavy furniture. The rooms were lush and comfortable. While the decor retained much of its old fashioned style, Rianna noticed light cells in the artfully styled wall sconces and spied a personal console partially concealed in one wall, further evidence that Dakar deliberately gave the appearance of being a backward world. “Would you care to rest?” Rianna glanced to where Jhaan stood beside the doors, watching her wander around his rooms. She decided that a short nap would not be amiss. She was more than a little tired. “I’d like to locate my parents, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I know my mother will be eager to meet you.” The prospect of meeting Jhaan’s family momentarily chased away any weariness. “Do you have any other siblings?” “I am an only child. My only other relation is a cousin twice removed who also lives here at the palace.” Rianna felt a twinge of envy. There was no mistaking the warmth in his voice as he spoke of his parents. She thought of the bare tolerance she was habitually shown by her own family. Although extensive with numerous aunts, uncles and cousins, with the exception of her Aunt Thea, they were not close. What would it be like to live among unconditional affection? After his departure, Rianna stripped down to her chemise and crawled into the wide bed. Despite her fatigue, she lay awake for a long time.
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Chapter Eleven “It is imperative that my niece is located, Your Majesty,” Bertram Chartier said to the Dakarian ruler. “We have been here for much of the day and nothing has been done to find her.” The man gestured in the air as if that would conjure up the missing princess. King Ardon deCain pinned him with a golden stare and Bertram swallowed before he opened his mouth to continue. His expression unreadable, King Ardon deCain raised a hand to halt his next words. “Your pleas are eloquent, Lord Chartier, as are your threats and demands.” The Dakarian ruler’s deep voice commanded attention, causing Bertram to fall silent. He spoke Basic with very little accent, only the slight lilt marking it as a second language. “And you are mistaken in your assumption that we are doing nothing to locate your niece. A troop of my best men were dispatched as soon as our sensors detected the presence of two ships in our airspace. We are awaiting their return.” Bertram glanced at the other occupants of the room, angered that neither his niece’s fiancé nor the Turnisian ambassador had said anything to enforce his demands. And he wasn’t quite sure what role the Turnisian woman played in these negotiations, but she was less than useless. Saris’s insistence that she be included was troubling. “It’s just that I’m worried about her, Your Majesty.” “Yes, I can see how concerned you are.” There was no mistaking the subtle sarcasm in his words, but before Bertram could continue, the huge double doors to the throne room were thrust open to admit two men. The first was obviously a soldier by his uniform and military carriage. The second carried himself with the confidence of a man twice his age. His relationship with the Dakarian ruler was immediately apparent in the same long length of auburn hair and golden-hued gaze that swept over the occupants of the room, marking each before turning to the tall man awaiting him. Simply dressed in a white shirt and black leather trousers, he exuded power and an abundance of confidence with every stride. 114
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Bertram’s attention was captured by a hiss of displeasure issued from the young man standing at King Ardon’s right. deCain’s nephew—or was it cousin?—stood at his shoulder in a relaxed slouch. He had been introduced earlier as Prince Demitry con Bruna, although his exact position to the ruling family was left a little vague. With his nondescript features and coloring, the man faded into the background. With a slight frown at the distraction, Bertram returned his attention to the new arrivals. Stopping short of King Ardon, the young man paused to bow low, arms outspread. His movements were smooth and graceful, that of either an athlete or a fighter. Ardon’s bland expression vanished as his face split into a wide smile. Standing, he pulled the younger man into his embrace.
Demitry con Bruna faded back to a grouping of lush palms, using the heavy foliage to sink into the background. He watched the reunion with hard eyes, feeling a swell of hatred as he dropped his facade of boredom. His cousin’s return at this particular time could only mean one thing. “Jhaan, my son. Welcome home.” Stepping back to survey his son from head to toe, there was no mistaking the joy in Ardon’s face. Unfortunately Jhaan did look fit despite two cycles of hard journeying. His cousin had always been fit. Now he was seasoned. “We were informed of your joyous tidings just this morning by Magistrate deMallori,” the king continued, ignoring the aliens. Demitry’s glance traveled over the foreigners, making note of their reactions. Although he was quick to conceal it, Bertram Chartier looked frustrated by the interruption. Perrin Soltaine, the Turnisian diplomat, took the newcomer’s presence in stride, while A’Sarah looked too befuddled to care one way or another. The reaction of the Turnisian woman, Ilena Torane, interested Demitry most. Her jaw had dropped at Jhaan’s entrance, her gaze devouring his cousin’s tall form. Without hesitation, Demitry delved her emotions, somewhat astounded by the strength of the woman’s interest. The heat she exuded was almost palpable. Perhaps that emotion could be used. Using an already strong emotion was far easier than trying to create a new one. Lust would suffice.
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A slow smile curved Demitry’s lips as he narrowed his concentration on her, carefully weaving an illusion which would be completely undetectable even to the other sensitives within the room. Reaching its peak, he released the flow in the direction of Ilena Torane.
“Please forgive us.” His father released Jhaan and turned to the other occupants of the room, his tone leaving his listeners with little option but to overlook this interruption. “Allow me to introduce my son and royal heir, Prince Jhaan san deCain, as well the captain of my guard, Conlan Tammar.” He made the introductions smoothly. Jhaan noticed that he deliberately began with Lord Chartier and left the Turnisian heir until last. Jhaan acknowledged each introduction with a slight bow befitting of each rank. Ilena returned his bow with a graceful sweep, low enough to display a generous expanse of bosom. Captain Tammar’s face was as hard as granite and about as expressive as he watched the woman. His gaze missed nothing as it left her to travel over the other occupants of the audience chamber. He bowed to each as they were introduced, standing with coiled grace as he awaited his ruler’s pleasure. Jhaan’s attention returned to his father as he re-established his mental link. “Where is your lady?” “Rianna is resting in my apartments. We were wed only yesterday, Father. She got very little sleep last night.” Amusement colored his father’s emotions, bringing a gleam to his eyes. “Have a care, my son. Our visitors are here on behalf of your lady.” “I know. I recognize the Turnisian heir.” Jhaan made no effort to conceal the hostility in his thoughts. “You have heard about your cousin’s marriage?” The nearness of his disqualification was too fresh. The rumors of Demitry’s good fortune in locating his psi-mate were all over the palace. The daughter of a minor dignitary in the far reaches of Dakar, Melia sana con Bruna had risen far in both rank and wealth with her marriage to con Bruna. The thought of Demitry and Melia ascending the throne of Dakar made a cold shiver travel down Jhaan’s spine.
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Jhaan glanced around for Demitry, but he was nowhere to be seen. “I heard. Despite the animosity between Demitry and I, after finding Rianna, I can only have best wishes for anyone locating his mate, Father.” Nodding agreement, Ardon turned to his captain. “Captain Tammar.” In order to continue their psi conversation, Jhaan felt his father skillfully amplify the man’s weaker Talent. Resuming his seat and resting his chin on his joined hands, Ardon kept his face as expressionless as his officer’s. Using the strengthened psi link, Tammer lost little time giving his report to both his king and prince. In the time it took Ardon to take his seat, Tammar had imparted much of his information. Information better kept from their visitors. “Just the man I wished to see. I trust you have news for us.” Captain Conlan Tammar snapped to attention, his bow deep with a smart salute crossing his chest. “I do, Your Majesty.” Those piercingly stormy eyes once more swept the room. More than one person shifted their stance under that hard glance. After that brief inspection, the captain ignored the room’s other occupants as he returned his attention to his ruler. “Permission to speak, Your Majesty.” King Ardon waved his hand in consent. Jhaan knew he had complete confidence in the captain’s discretion. His loyalty was without question. Although psychic communications for most Dakarians were usually limited to emotions and images, Tammar had been in the service of the royal house for so long that familiarity had created a telepathic path between himself and his rulers. “We located the downed ship of the Zarian princess approximately a day’s journey out of the City of Dionne…” Forgetting himself, Bertram took an involuntary step forward. His avid expression was quickly schooled into one of an uncle’s concern for his niece. “And? Did you find my niece? Is she all right?” “She is well, my lord.” At the nod from his ruler, the captain directed his response to the heavy set man. “Her ship had crash landed in the deep forest outside Dionne. Despite a lingering heavy fog, we were able to penetrate the interior and discover that the Princess Rianna escaped
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before her ship ignited from a fuel spillage. Although there is nothing left of the ship, the princess is safe.” Bertram closed his eyes in relief. His mission had not been ruined! Except…he slanted a glance at the figure of Saris A’Sarah. The man’s indiscreet behavior of the past few days could jeopardize all his hard work. Rianna was both headstrong and proud. If she should catch wind of the fact that the Turnisian heir was carrying on with a courtesan… Shaking off the thought, Bertram dismissed any problems from that direction. He had full authority from his brother. The girl would do as she was told. “Where is Rianna now?” “She is resting, my lord, here in the palace.” Even while imparting this information vocally, Captain Tammar was at the same time continuing a more detailed report with his monarch and Jhaan. Nothing of the second conversation was revealed in his blank face. “Prince Jhaan had informed me that the Zarian princess had been set upon by assassins and that the bodies of two assassins could be found in the area of the downed ship. However, when we arrived we could locate the body of only one, Your Majesty. It is that of the man the princess had dispatched. There were no other bodies in the vicinity.” Frowning, Jhaan digested this disturbing bit of information, exchanging a troubled glance with his father. That Rianna was the target of an assassination attempt was cause for concern. The motive had to be discovered and the people behind the attack found and brought to justice. She could not be risked. “Prince Jhaan informed me that a third man had managed to escape into space. As soon as I returned to the palace, I dispatched trackers to locate him. He will be found soon enough. It is the missing assassin that concerns me most, Your Majesty.” Neither Jhaan nor his father said anything for a moment. While it wasn’t impossible that a forest creature could have dragged the body away, it was highly unlikely. Jhaan knew Tammar would have found some evidence of it. Very little escaped his notice. “Was there any trail?” Jhaan asked. He felt quiet menace flow into his psi link as he digested this new threat to his wife.
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Tammar continued answering the questions of Bertram Chartier. His face revealed nothing to betray his second conversation. “Yes, Your Highness. There was a faint trail leading away from the crash site. Our trackers lost him at the river. I have men searching both sides of the riverbank but I hold little hope in picking up his trail. The man was very skilled in concealing his passing.” Once again, Jhaan exchanged a glance with his father. Very disturbing. “Have word sent out to all communities to keep an eye open for an off-worlder. He is to be located without delay,” King Ardon commanded, his tone now holding a sense of menace. “As you command, Your Majesty.” “He is to be taken alive, Tammar.” “As you command, Your Majesty.” With a psi brush, Jhaan turned Tammar’s attention to himself. “Under no circumstances are the off-worlders to be allowed near my apartments,” Jhaan instructed him. “I want no contact between Rianna and her family.” Tammar gave a terse affirmative, assuring his prince that guards would be dispatched to the royal apartments at once. The strangers would be watched at all times while they were on Dakar. Turning to the oblivious guests, Jhaan gave a smile which revealed nothing of the savage protectiveness welling up within. One of the people here was instrumental in the attempt on Rianna’s life. He was certain of it. “Please excuse me. I’ve just come off the road and wish to freshen up. I trust we will meet again at tonight’s meal.” With a final bow to his father, he turned and left the throne room. Both Bertram and the Turnisian diplomat immediately rounded on the captain, demanding a more detailed report.
Ilena Torane stared after Jhaan, unable to take her eyes from that incredible body until he passed from sight. Her mind felt fogged with the intensity of her desire. Never had she met such a sensuous creature, nor had she ever been so instantly attracted. The man reeked of sex. One glance from those molten gold eyes from between long black lashes had sent her temperature soaring and her imagination rampant. She almost shuddered with anticipation as she lost little time in planning the man’s seduction. Jhaan san deCain made Saris pale into insignificance. She
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sensed that sex with deCain would be an experience without compare. The mere thought heated her blood. Ilena turned her attention on Saris and eyed him with carefully concealed contempt. Now that she had met the epitome of male beauty, she freely marked the flaws marring her lover. The dark eyes she had found so seductive now bordered on dull and vacuous, his chin was weak and his hair noticeably thinning. The drugs she had addicted him to were beginning to take their toll in his reduced sexual prowess and increasingly unpredictable behavior. She’d have to be careful. It would not do to have Saris confine her to her rooms or perhaps have her returned to Turnis before she had an opportunity to seduce the Dakarian prince. And have him she would.
Saris ignored the two soldiers standing guard outside the audience chamber as he slammed out of the room. He swung his cape over his shoulders as he stormed down the marble hallway, fury making him blind to the servants scurrying out of his way. Damn it to the seven hells! She was alive! The little bitch was alive! How was that possible? Somehow, despite his careful planning, she had escaped. Worse, she was unharmed. His contacts had assured him that the disposal of Rianna Chartier would be accomplished without problem and without danger of his being implicated. The Society had recommended several candidates to handle this matter but Saris had preferred using his own man. Cayo’s instructions were to get rid of Rianna in space, making sure her destroyed ship looked like a pirate attack. Simple, direct and final. But, not only had she eluded his assassins, the bitch managed to locate the one inhabited planet in this entire quadrant. During the course of the captain’s recital, no mention had been made of a second ship. Which meant nothing. This Tammar didn’t strike him as a man who revealed any more than necessary. He would have to wait until he heard from Cayo. Damn the man for his inept handling of this matter! How could he have screwed up something so simple? “Saris, wait!” Ilena called.
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He halted before an expanse of windows overlooking a huge courtyard. The activity below held little interest for him as he fumed, teetering on the brink of losing control. Ilena was panting when she caught up to him. He shot her a venomous glare that caused her to step back, her expression first startled, then cautious. “I can’t believe she escaped.” He kept his voice low with an effort as he scrubbed his fingers through his hair. Adrenaline pumped blood through his veins, feeding his still mounting rage. Nothing was going right. First his sire came up with that asinine idea of contaminating the Turnisian bloodline by wedding him to the daughter of the enemy. Then his incompetent hirelings couldn’t accomplish the simple task of disposing of his potential bride. Now he was stuck on this barbaric planet where he was jumping at shadows, imagined or otherwise. There was something hostile about this world. Not bothering to check for eavesdroppers, he spun back to Ilena and caught her arm in a punishing grip. “I need more rensin,” he hissed as sweat broke out on his brow and a tremor ran through his body. The surge of adrenaline was dissipating, leaving him dizzy, nauseous. “Give it to me.” Ilena glanced around with alarm. Saris was beyond caring if there were witnesses, but checked anyway. Other than the two guards standing at attention beside the throne room door, the corridor was nearly empty. No one was close enough to overhear them. “Not here, Saris.” Her hand went to the pocket he knew she had sewn into her gown. “If I’m caught with rensin, I’ll be imprisoned.” “That’s your problem.” Saris yanked her closer and delved one hand into the pocket and pulled out the opaque bottle. Its appearance was innocent, nothing about it hinted that it contained one of the most illegal narcotics banned by the Federation of Worlds. Pulling the stopper from the bottle he would have upended its entire contents into his mouth had Ilena not snatched it from his grasp. “You fool! You have to be careful with that!” Saris’s face darkened at her careless words. His hands twitched as he fought the desire to strike the woman. He was the Turnisian heir. No one spoke to him in such a manner. She was merely a court whore whose position depended upon his continued good will.
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Motioning him closer to the window casement, Ilena carefully shook out two tiny yellow tablets. Snatching them out of her hand, he tossed them into his mouth, swallowing the bitter pills dry. Bracing his hands on the window frame, he shuddered as the potent drug took immediate effect, working its way into his bloodstream. “This is the purest form of rensin,” Ilena told him as she watched him. “Two is enough to satisfy your craving. Three would have rendered you unconscious—” “And four would have killed you,” a voice from behind Saris interrupted her. Startled, Saris turned to find a young man leaning negligently against the wall opposite them. His approach had been without sound. Had he not spoken Saris would have still been unaware of his presence. Saris recognized Prince Demitry con Bruna. Beyond acknowledging his rank, Saris had given the man scant notice. Now he took a moment to note that he was a bull of a man, short by Dakarian standards but heavy in the chest and across the shoulders. “How dare you eavesdrop on a private conversation,” Saris snapped, confidence reemerging along with his arrogance. The rensin was already calming the tremors while giving him a sense of command once more. He gave a wave of dismissal, but was stunned when the Dakarian merely raised one tawny brow, sloughing off his veneer of indolence to match his arrogance with ease. Straightening, Demitry stepped close enough to be heard without raising his voice. He flicked a glance toward the two guards standing some distance away, then ignored them. It was simple enough to mask himself. The only emotion the guards would detect in him would be that of a mild curiosity for the aliens. “Oh, I dare, all right. You are the Turnisian ruling heir, correct?” He made his voice deep and hypnotic using a psi push. Without waiting for a reply he glanced down at Ilena. “And you are his…friend? Companion?” Demitry was amused to see Ilena Torane bridle at his insulting innuendo, a wave of color heating her face. He knew her sort. Accustomed to deference by the Turnisian court because of her position, she expected the same treatment from what she viewed as a backwater planet.
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“As you can see, this is a private conversation, Prince Demitry.” Her tone was frigid as she raised her chin. She made an attempt to conceal the small bottle clenched in her fist. Demitry’s eyes flicked downward, then returned to meet hers with knowing amusement. He missed nothing of the heightened emotions wafting from both the Turnisian heir and his consort. Saris A’Sarah was simple to read, the narcotics in his system rendering him to a near incoherence. “Private conversations should never take place in the halls of Dakar if you wish them to remain so.” “What is that supposed to mean?” Saris demanded. Demitry’s smile never slipped as he watched the man sway with the effort to remain on his feet. Demitry felt a curl of contempt for the man’s overweening attitude. His mind was already compromised by his drug of choice. Controlling A’Sarah was going to be child’s play. With a delicate touch, Demitry built an illusion, then released it in the direction of the Turnisian heir. As the compulsion dissipated, it would slowly prey upon his unique combination of narcissism and paranoia, building it to a violent peak. Ready to erupt when the time was ripe. “It means, my dear fellow, that one never quite knows who is listening while on Dakar.” Demitry waved a hand in the general direction of the guards some distance down the corridor. Ilena followed his gesture with a frown. Her glance continued to sweep the length of the corridor in both directions. “You will not attract him, you know.” Demitry smiled again when Ilena’s attention snapped back to him. She was so easy to read, even if he had been as null as everyone suspected. He’d deliberately used a mind contact to see how susceptible she was to his touch She put a hand to her head, frowning. Then she gave herself a shake and lifted her chin regally. “I do not know what you are talking about.” “Who was talking about anything?” Saris emerged from his stupor long enough to glance around, his eyes betraying his rising trepidation. “Damn! I’ll be glad when we get off this mudball. I hate this place.”
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Demitry ignored him as he met Ilena stare for stare. Her emotions were so open. He allowed his smile to fade as he turned several plans over in his mind, trying to decide how these two could best serve his purposes. He had already made a start with the subtle compulsion he had released earlier on the woman. The second illusion would take a little time to enmesh the man. Soon he should be able to make use of their spiraling obsessions. At this point he wasn’t sure how they could be used, but it was always good to have a back-up plan prepared. He knew what his cousin’s unexpected return meant. Tempted though he was, he didn’t dare delve his cousin to seek confirmation. A man of Jhaan’s psi strength would immediately detect any type of probe, no matter how subtle. Everything pointed to Jhaan having found his psi-mate. There could be no other explanation. He would not have returned for any other reason. For a moment he wondered if his cousin was pulling a fast one and produced a woman to pose as his mate, but was forced to dismiss the notion. Perpetuating such a hoax was incredibly difficult—as he, himself, knew. Demitry had been certain his cousin would fail. When Jhaan had set out on pilgrimage two cycles ago, Demitry had made a point of having his progress followed by his most trusted men. His cousin had participated in all of the expected rounds of balls and galas, most conducted solely for his benefit. All of Dakar knew the successor heir was on pilgrimage and turned out in droves to present their daughters, cousins and sisters. As the peri-cycles passed without success, Demitry had discontinued his discreet surveillance when Jhaan abruptly dropped out of sight. At first he had been alarmed, but as these final peri-cycles passed without word, he had allowed himself to relax, fully expecting to receive word of his cousin’s failure. Now it appeared Demitry would have to take steps to secure his own position as successor heir. Demitry stared at the Turnisians for a moment longer before coming to a decision. “Come, we need to talk.”
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Chapter Twelve Contentment was uppermost in her mind when Rianna woke from her short nap, savoring the warmth and comfort of a soft mattress. Smiling, she stretched her arms above her head, arching her back with luxurious abandon. She knew without opening her eyes that she was alone. She could feel no other presence in the room. The knowledge should have been disconcerting, yet it wasn’t. Oddly enough it didn’t disturb her that she was able to sense Jhaan. Strange how quickly it felt so natural. She had always viewed herself as a pragmatic individual. Sensible and not given to flights of fancy. Still, as much as she might have liked to deny the existence of telepathy, she could not ignore the evidence within herself. It would never have occurred to her that the nearly infallible instinct she had always taken for granted was actually the seeds of an un-nurtured psychic ability. Jhaan had pointed out that psi Talent manifested itself in many different ways. Some people possessed a strong affinity to emotions, some with a Talent for picking up unconscious thought. There were those whose Talent lay in healing and others whose psychic ability could be used as a defense. The growing fascination had swiftly wiped out her initial apprehension. It was like gaining a whole new sensory ability. Something to be utilized as one would use their sense of sight or smell. Her mind reached out towards Jhaan, tracing along that strange link of theirs until she brushed against his consciousness. He wasn’t far and coming closer. She knew the moment he sensed her presence. There was an instant of absent acknowledgment, but then she felt his tightened attention. Her small spurt of satisfaction at succeeding in finding him evaporated as he mischievously allowed thoughts of the previous night to flicker through his mind. The images were graphic in detail.
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Withdrawing hurriedly from the link, she felt heat rise in her cheeks with this blatant reminder of their intimacies. Jhaan’s sexual appetites were insatiable. Rianna would never have suspected that making love could be so inventive—or so strenuous. She was sore in muscles she hadn’t known she possessed. The passion which burned between them was a mutual conflagration. Even now a thrill ran down her spine as she felt Jhaan’s swift approach. She could feel his anticipation quivering along their link, growing ever stronger with each step. Sitting up, she combed her fingers through her unruly hair in an attempt to straighten it. Jhaan entered his apartments silently, aware that Rianna was awake and waiting for him. His breath caught at the sight of her, his heart stuttering to a halt in his chest. She was a tantalizing image as she sat among the tangle of brightly colored sheets of his bed, her face still flushed with sleep, eyes a turbulent shade with the lingering residue of drowsiness. The strap of her chemise had fallen from one smooth shoulder to catch halfway down her arm, revealing a generous curve of breast. He marveled at his good fortune in finding her. With Rianna he was complete. “I felt you earlier, maarai. Practice will strengthen your Talent.” Forcing himself to ignore the need to possess his mate once more, he moved to the tall windows to throw wide the sheer coverings, allowing the sunlight to stream into the room. “You must rise and dress,” he said as he returned to the bed. “My parents are arranging a feast to celebrate my return.” She made a face at him before she swung her legs to the carpeted floor. He could feel her effort to gather her thoughts. “How long have you been gone?” she asked as she stood and stretched. Jhaan’s body tightened at her not-so-innocent actions. He felt her intent through their link. “Nearly two cycles.” He paused to calculate the difference. “A bit more than two years by Basic reckoning.” Rianna halted in mid-stretch, surprise on her face. “So long! Why would you be gone for so long?”
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Jhaan hesitated. “I was on a type of…pilgrimage.” He held up a hand to prevent her next question. “Forgive me, maarai, but I cannot say much more on the subject. A pilgrimage is a matter of some…privacy for a Dakarian male.” Rianna subsided with obvious reluctance. “Are you sure I’m not intruding on your reunion with your family? I could just as easily stay at an inn.” Returning to her side, Jhaan took her hand, raising it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the center of her palm. “Not at all. My family would never forgive me should I allow you to…escape.” His tone was teasing, but there was nothing light about the sultry glance he swept over her face. His tongue emerged to gently tease the sensitive flesh of her palm with a heated sweep. “You make me sound like a prisoner. Try again.” “Very well.” He pretended to consider for a moment, tapping one finger against his lips, drawing her attention to that feature. “How about, as I have not seen my family in nearly two cycles they are eager to welcome me back into the fold?” “I’d buy that. But wouldn’t it still be easier for me to find lodgings in the city?” “I told my family the circumstances of our meeting. They are very eager to make your acquaintance.” Jhaan was not sure how much longer he could continue this charade he had begun. Her ignorance of the Dakarian language had so far saved him from the necessity of explanations, but he knew he could not count on her naiveté for much longer. Someone was sure to slip up and inform her of her wedded status. With the presence of her uncle and former fiancé, he suspected that he had best inform her of this fact sooner than later. Still, he hesitated. Pulling her gaze from his, Rianna glanced around once more, for the first time noticing her few toiletries positioned alongside his on the appearance table. She noted that the gown she had shed before her nap was gone, hanging in the open wardrobe already filled with masculine clothing. Someone must have come in while she slept and unpacked her few possessions. “I don’t mean to put you out, Jhaan.” Even as she said the words, her face went blank as she wondered what conclusions his family was going to draw when it became known that she had spent the afternoon in Jhaan’s bed. She’d been so weary that she hadn’t considered the social
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ramifications. Were the psychic abilities of his family such that they would immediately divine their relationship? That, for far too few hours, they had been lovers? Her mind leaped from one thought to another. How could she face them? What would they think of her wanton behavior? Given Jhaan’s position, surely women had attempted to entrap him in the past. Was she to be accused of being an opportunist? What if word got back to her family still on Turnis? Or to Saris, for that matter. Shaking, she buried her flaming face in her hands. Her behavior had been beyond careless. It was reprehensible. “Rianna!” Realizing the direction of her thoughts, he dropped to his knees and reached out to take her hands in his, drawing them against his chest. “My family passes no judgment, I assure you.” Her distress beat at him in waves as she raised her face to his, mortification in every line. Keeping his attention on her cold hands, he fought down his mounting guilt as he chose his words with care. “You are privileged to know of the psychic abilities of my people,” he began. “But there is more.” The degree of her misery caught him by surprise. He knew Rianna possessed an inordinate high sense of modesty, but the intensity of her humiliation went beyond modesty. The emotion pulsed through him, deepening his culpability further. He waited until he had her full attention. “A drawback of this ability was the decline in the birth of our female children. About sixteen thousand cycles ago a slight but significant rise in the birth of male children was noted in an obscure medical report. Eventually the numbers increased until, for every female child, fifty male children were born. That is the present average.” “How terrible for you.” To his relief, she was listening, for the moment forgetting her embarrassment. “I noticed the discrepancy last night at the Lunar Festival, but hadn’t realized it was so vast. Why didn’t your people invite or encourage women from other worlds to settle here on Dakar? There are several planets with a higher female population—Traeda Three, for instance.”
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“We cannot,” he admitted as he stood and paced the length of the room. “Dakar made the decision to seclude itself from other worlds for two reasons.” Jhaan halted before the wide expanse of windows, staring out over the gardens. Late afternoon was fast approaching. Shadows lengthened over the expanse of lawn. “About the same time that Dakar’s psychic ability was manifesting, there was once another world called Depharia. They were a very populous world and possessed a somewhat similar Talent, although theirs was a more emphatic trait rather than telepathic.” “I’ve never heard of it.” “Few people have. Depharia was utterly destroyed over fifty thousand cycles ago, long before the formation of the Federation of Worlds. All that remains is a barren planet. Fear and prejudice encouraged an alliance of her enemies, which took steps to eliminate what was perceived as a threat. It made little difference that Depharia had never offered any type of threat, nor exhibited any hostilities. Not only did the alliance destroy the people of Depharia, they poisoned both the surface and the atmosphere. Nothing alive remains on that world. Dakar was a sparsely populated world then, but we observed and learned from the example of Depharia. Since that time we have concealed our growing ability, guarding our privacy and discouraging the presence of off-worlders.” He felt Rianna’s distress for the world that had long ago ceased to exist. Through their link he knew when she understood the necessity of the Dakarian people to isolate themselves. That same prejudice that destroyed Depharia so many millennia ago was still alive and well in the present day. She stared at him, her eyes damp for a people who were destroyed out of ignorance and intolerance. Standing, she crossed the room to his side. “I think the caution of your people is well placed, Jhaan. There will always be those who do not understand. What people do not understand, they fear, and what they fear, they destroy.” Warmth flooded him. He knew he couldn’t ignore the little voice at the back of his mind. He had to confess the truth. “Rianna, I must tell you something.” He turned away from the windows to face her. “The night of the Lunar Festival…”
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“Yes?” “The ritual the magistrate conducted is also called a Linking Ceremony.” He hesitated, at a loss of how to continue. “Does this have something to do with that weird little connection between us?” “Yes. We of Dakar also consider this a—marriage ceremony.” “A what?” Her stunned expression made Jhaan swallow. There was nothing in life that he feared, but at this moment, he would have gladly faced the fiercest creature in the universe than try to explain this to his wife. “Rianna…” “You’re trying to tell me you married me without my knowledge or consent?” “Rianna…” “You knew I was betrothed. I have a duty to my family and my world.” “And I have a duty to mine.” Catching her by her arms he stooped until he could stare into her eyes. “I was days from being declared sterile. I didn’t have the luxury of time to woo you, to win you over.” “Instead, you married me under false pretenses.” “It wasn’t like that.” “No? Enlighten me.” “For each male of Dakar, there is only one female who can awaken his sexuality. For me, that woman is you. It never would have occurred to me that someone not of Dakar could be my mate. I was thrown off balance and reacted rashly.” “So, it’s only my psychic ability that makes me acceptable. It was nothing personal.” “It is completely personal. Your psi ability is only a part of it.” He willed her to understand, knowing he should have revealed these facts to her the night of their marriage. Accessing their link, he felt her anger, confusion, a sense of betrayal, and finally, pain. “I never meant to deceive you, Rianna. Time was against me.” “Did you use your ability to take my free will away?” “No, never.”
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“How do I know that?” Jhaan was silent for a long moment, staring at her, willing her to believe him. To believe in him. He’d hoped he would have more time to gain her trust. Now, he was at a loss to explain. “Look deep within yourself. Look inside of me. I cannot lie to you, Rianna. A part of me resides within your mind, just as a part of you is within mine.” “I don’t know how I can believe you.” “We’d met under very trying circumstances. How do I go up to a complete stranger— someone who knows nothing of my world or our abilities, who was frankly repulsed by the idea of someone being able to delve her thoughts.” Color mounted Rianna’s cheeks but she didn’t deny the charge. “How do I tell this woman ‘Oh, by the way, psychically we are compatible. We must marry or I am doomed to a life of being half a man’? That she would suffer the same sense of incompleteness?” “What do you mean by that?” Jhaan lifted one hand to smooth her hair back behind her ear in a gentle motion. “Your life would have been just as barren as mine, Rianna, maarai. You might have wed the Turnisian heir, shared his bed, bore his children.” His stomach clenched at the thought, but he forced himself to continue. “But you would have been just as unfulfilled, both sexually and mentally.” “You don’t know that.” “I do know that. Whatever cosmic fluke caused you to be born on Salazar rather than Dakar also ensured you were never, nor would ever be sexually attracted to another man.” Rianna was silent for a long moment before she raised her eyes to his. The look she gave him was filled with conflicting emotions. “So, you chose to deceive me. I’m trying very hard to understand, but once again the decision concerning my future has been taken out of my hands.” Jhaan drew a deep breath, unable to deny her words. His actions had been arbitrary and without consideration for her feelings. He could tell himself that it was in her better interests, but that made him no better than her family.
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“You’re right, Rianna, I apologize. I had no right to marry you under false pretenses. But it isn’t only my bid for the throne that motivated my actions. It is the continued existence of my people that drives me.” Taking a chance, he drew her into his arms and hugged her close for a moment, but she remained stiff and unresponsive. Easing back, he stared into her eyes as she tried to absorb the import of his words, her inner turmoil pulsating along their link. Her expression closed as she shrugged herself out of his loose embrace. “I can understand why you did it, Jhaan, but I don’t know if I can forgive you.” “Rianna…” She put up a hand to halt his words. “My short time on Dakar has already helped me make up my mind about a number of things. I’d already decided that I couldn’t marry Saris and that I wasn’t going to allow my family to dictate my actions any longer.” “I will do whatever I need to gain your forgiveness, maarai.” “I need time to think.” Jhaan watched as she paced to the bed, still clad in the chemise she’d slept in. He could feel her roiling emotions and guilt ate at him. “You need not worry about getting word to your family on Turnis. Your uncle and his party arrived on Dakar early this morning.” “They’re here! On Dakar? Now?” She spun around, her face going blank before glancing wildly towards the doors as if expecting them to barge in at any moment. “I’m not ready to face them!” Rianna flung herself at the wardrobe, pawing through the few gowns hanging there. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Her voice was muffled as her head was buried inside the wardrobe. Jhaan took an instant to admire the sight of her scantily clad bottom emerging from the colorful array of gowns. Getting a firm grip on his libido, he took the seat she had so recently vacated on the bed. He may have a long way to go to regaining her trust, but he took heart in the fact that she hadn’t repudiated their marriage. By F.O.W. law, she had grounds for it. By Dakarian law, it was set in stone. Once they were Linked, there was no going back.
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Chapter Thirteen Rianna held herself stiff as Jhaan urged her forward. She tied to ignore how right his hand felt at the small of her back, or the warm scent of him as it washed over her. “Mother, Father. Allow me to present the Princess Rianna of Salazar. Rianna, maarai, my parents, King Ardon san deCain and Queen Janae sana deCain of Dakar.” The rulers of Dakar were more formidable than she anticipated. Striking, they wore both power and authority with ease. The source of Jhaan’s powerful build and rich auburn hair was evident in his father, while in his mother she found his beauty. Stepping forward, Rianna sank into a curtsy, her skirts billowing around her in a pool of gold material. She held her position for several long seconds as was fitting when greeting a ruler of a foreign world. A pair of feminine hands came into her line of vision and she was startled when Queen Janae took her hands and drew her upright. She was further astounded when she pulled her into a warm embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to first one cheek then the other. The queen’s light floral scent swirled around Rianna while a sense of warmth enfolded her. Knowing what she did of the people of Dakar, Rianna was aware that Queen Janae would not have allowed such an emotion free rein through carelessness. “You are tenfold welcome, Rianna, my dear.” The degree of affection Rianna sensed was confusing and her glance went to King Ardon to find him smiling down at her with equal approval, his face softening, rendering him almost approachable. Queen Janae turned her attention on her son, reaching up to smooth an affectionate hand over one lean cheek. They both knew. Rianna shot Jhaan a seething glance, but he merely smiled at her, warmth flooding her through their connection. For a moment she wanted nothing more than to bask in this sense of belonging, but steeled herself against it.
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“I’d like you to meet my cousin, Demitry, and his wife, Melia sana con Bruna.” Rianna acknowledged their bows with a slight one of her own. Demitry con Bruna was dressed in full ceremonial regalia, his choice of dress bordering on the ostentatious. Rianna blinked at the odd shade of purple he had elected to wear. Even his knee-high boots were dyed the same shade. Her eyes rested on them for moment. She had never seen purple boots before. The woman at his side was shorter, almost portly, but it was the sulky curve to her mouth that Rianna first noticed. In a world where the few women she had thus far met were stunningly beautiful, Melia bordered on merely pretty. Her choice of attire was equally startling. Her gown was bright of yellows, perhaps in direct competition with the man at her side. Her dark hair was drawn up into the highest mass of curls Rianna had had the misfortune of seeing, its height nearly topping her husband. Rianna forced herself to turn her attention on the remaining guests. “Rianna, my dear child!” She was jolted back to reality as Uncle Bertram hurried forward, arms outstretched to draw her into his embrace. He either didn’t notice or preferred to ignore her stiffness as he pulled her close to press a kiss on her brow. “You had us worried. Thank the Maker you are safe and unharmed.” “Thank you, Uncle.” Rianna extricated herself in time to accept her Aunt Thea’s hug with far more enthusiasm. Thea fussed over her for several moments before Rianna was able to assure her she was fine and had come to no harm. When she was released, Jhaan returned to her side, taking possession of her hand. Rianna saw her uncle note the gesture and pulled her hand free. Saris A’Sarah took this opportunity to push forward. The sweet, nearly feminine scent he favored wafted to her sensitive nostrils. Its overpowering odor was almost irritating enough to trigger a sneezing fit. For an instant she was glad she no longer had to worry about marrying the man. Firmly, she quashed the emotion lest Jhaan catch it. “Princess Rianna, you had everyone worried. May I add how pleased I was to hear that no harm has come to you.”
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Rianna stared at him with dumbfounded astonishment. While on Turnis they had been forced to attend a few social functions together, and he had all but ignored her existence. Why was he professing such concern for her well being? Maintaining a safe distance, she took in his heightened color and noted the slur in his speech. Observing the dilation of his pupils, she felt a flicker of suspicion, her disquiet and revulsion rising. Sensing her alarm, Jhaan’s mind immediately sought hers, delving for the cause before directing a sharp glance at the Turnisian. A’Sarah’s appearance revealed a man fast sinking under the weight of unsavory habits. Angry with himself for allowing such a potential threat near his psi-mate, Jhaan’s swift scan revealed evidence of extensive narcotics abuse. A’Sarah’s mind was cloudy and unclear, making it impossible to penetrate the haze to seek his actual thoughts. Still, Jhaan found the dark shadows of a dangerously disturbed mind. His emotions swung from a secretive cunning to paranoia to a euphoric serenity in quick succession. It was a disturbing effect and one which sent a roiling unease through him. The degree of chaos in A’Sarah’s thought processes far exceeded a normal psychosis, even discounting the drugs. Only an in-depth examination by a trained healer would reveal which narcotics he was indulging in. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that his mind had been tampered with. The laws forbidding such an unauthorized touch upon an alien were very strict and unbending. There were always extenuating circumstances. His manipulation of the ratin man’s emotions to save Rianna fell within that scope. Barely, but to his knowledge few Dakarian would have dared. Or possess the psi strength. Still… His train of thought was interrupted by the brush of a hand across his chest, drawing his glance to the upturned face of Ilena Torane. The smile she directed at him was artless, but she made no effort to conceal the blatant invitation in her eyes. He tried to ignore the way the woman leaned close. He could see that the delicate silk of her red gown had been carefully dampened to cling to her full figure. Looking down at her, Jhaan felt a twinge of embarrassment for her. She was broadcasting her emotions for every Dakarian to feel. The waves of her lust hung heavy on the air. He saw
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Rianna give him a questioning look until she realized where the emotion was emanating from and her gaze sharpened on the blonde woman. A spike of jealousy traveled down their link, quickly suppressed. Hope rose in his chest. Taking her hand, he gave her fingers a squeeze. “She is no threat, ni maarai.” “As if I care.” Jhaan felt a stab of satisfaction as she utilized their private link and he gave her hand another squeeze. “Princess Rianna. Such a relief to find you well.” Ilena swept into a graceful curtsy, just low enough to acknowledge the woman’s superior rank. “You may not remember me, Your Highness, but I am Lady Ilena Torane of the House Torane. We were introduced during your third eight-day on Turnis.” It took Rianna a minute to recall having met the woman. She hadn’t liked her then, she didn’t like her now. “Ah…yes, I do recall you, Lady Torane.” Rianna made an effort to set aside the animosity she was feeling for the beautiful blonde woman. There was no mistaking the way those blue eyes slid past her toward Jhaan, nor the heated gleam of slumberous passion. If what Jhaan said about Dakarian men was true, Ilena Torane was no threat. Eyeing the woman with sudden speculation, Rianna took a deep breath and focused her fledgling Talent. Carefully, she delved the woman’s emotions, swimming against the current of surface emotions, sorting through numerous confusing impressions until she reached the core of Ilena’s impassioned interest. The undulating waves of lust suddenly snared Rianna. She shied away with alarm, confusion washing over her as wave upon wave of raw emotion battered her. Inexperience ensnared her in the sticky webs of sexual fantasies until the steadily rising lust threatened to engulf her mind. Fear rose in her mind, miring her in the skeins of emotions. Just when she felt certain she was on the verge of passing out, Rianna sensed another presence at the fringes of her awareness. Relief flooded her as she recognized Jhaan’s touch. With gentle expertise he retrieved her consciousness from the trap of emotions bombarding her. Allowing her mind to go dormant, she ceased her struggles. There was a sense of swimming
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against a strong current before she was drawn free. It was only his grip on her hand that kept her anchored as she swayed with reaction. “Your Highness, you are unwell?” Ilena Torane inquired, her tone one of concern, but that concern never reaching her eyes. Rianna couldn’t bring herself to look at the woman. The fantasies she entertained were absolutely lewd. She didn’t know if half of the acts she had seen were even possible. “I’m fine, thank you,” Rianna whispered, putting a hand to her forehead as another wave of dizziness swept over her. Her head was pounding as she struggled to recover her composure. The lost control was frightening, but she’d almost lost herself in Ilena’s swirling emotions. That was terrifying. “Rianna’s last few days have been difficult, Lady Torane,” Jhaan said as he silently soothed Rianna’s frayed emotions. “The terrain we traveled over was somewhat challenging.” “The discomfort will pass shortly, maarai.” Rianna felt Jhaan’s gentle assurance, his touch so light she experienced no additional pain. She was still reeling when Jhaan’s parents invited their guests to be seated for the evening meal. Jhaan’s fingers tightened over hers where they were tucked into the crook of his arm, offering his silent support. Rianna hesitantly extended her consciousness along their link, almost flinching with the anticipation of further pain. “What happened?” When she felt no spike of discomfort she sighed with more than a little relief. “Psychic overload.” His explanation was still gentle as he escorted her to the long gleaming table dominating the room. His expression gave nothing away, yet she could feel his concern radiating down their link. “The inexperienced mind can sometimes become ensnared in strong emotions. As your skills grow, you will learn to moderate your exposure.” Rianna made a face, reassured but not entirely convinced. “You…” Rianna’s attention was captured by Saris as he appeared to focus on the general conversation. Her disgust rose as he grabbed a brimming glass of wine and downed half its contents without regard for its vintage. A thin stream of blue liquid escaped to run down his chin.
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His eyes were narrowed as he swiped the back of his arm over his damp mouth. Suddenly she was grateful that marriage to this man was out of the question. “You were with her? I thought it was Captain Tammar who was responsible for returning Princess Rianna unharmed.” “No.” Jhaan ignored the man’s poor manners as he took his seat at Rianna’s side, sliding one arm over the back of her chair and giving her an intimate smile, his actions deliberate. Rianna’s instinctive trust in him earlier warmed his heart. “When Rianna crashed in the forests outside of Dionne, I was able to offer my assistance.” Jhaan’s attention was diverted from Saris by the entrance of a late arrival. Smoothly, Captain Tammar made his apologies as he greeted his rulers and extended his respects to Jhaan and Rianna. Saris continued to stare at Jhaan, his befuddlement fading as he noted the Dakarian’s familiar use of Rianna’s given name. Shaking off his fogginess, he studied deCain’s possessive manner. His suspicions flared as he studied every fleeting expression crossing their faces whenever their gazes met. There was no mistaking the softening of deCain’s expression whenever he looked at the Zarian bitch, nor the intimacy of his touch. Slowly it dawned on him that they were lovers. After a moment of stunned realization, Saris allowed himself a silent crow of triumph. The harlot was ruined! If he could prove their intimacy, Rianna Chartier would no longer be acceptable to his father as his bride. The first and foremost requirement of the Zarian’s qualification was her virginal state. Tests had been conducted before her arrival on Turnis to ensure her maiden status. This could solve all his problems, he realized, even as his glance flickered over to where Ilena still hovered near the Dakarian heir. Or perhaps not. “Captain Tammar,” he said. “You said nothing about Princess Rianna being in the company of Prince Jhaan. I thought it was you who rescued Rianna.” In the process of seating himself farther down the table, Captain Tammar paused before putting in smoothly, “Did I leave that impression? I must apologize for any confusion, Prince Saris. My patrol intercepted His Highness and Princess Rianna on our way to the crash site. As
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Prince Jhaan had everything under control, we continued on to the downed vessel to conduct our investigation.” With a graceful flick of his hand, he settled a napkin onto his lap before turning to accept a glass of the blue wine from a hovering servant. Despite his lazy demeanor, Rianna suspected the captain was far from relaxed, sensing his coiled readiness. This close, she could see his eyes were a stormy gray with little to no expression whatsoever revealed in their cold depths. She had thought Jhaan formidable. Captain Tammar made him appear almost biddable. Thankful that the throbbing in her head was fading, Rianna lifted her wineglass to her lips, sipping the delicate vintage with pleasure. “What happened to my ship, Captain Tammar?” she asked, shifting forward to look around Jhaan seated at her right. He obligingly leaned back to allow her an unobstructed view. Tammar paused in the middle of selecting a delicacy from the tray held by a servant. “I fear it detonated shortly before we arrived, Your Highness. Evidently ignited by a fuel spill.” Captain Conlan Tammar’s glance flickered over the faces of the aliens. Something was tickling at the back of his consciousness, a niggling sense of disquiet. He swept his gaze once more over the other guests, resting on each face as he attempted to pinpoint the source of his unease. He was not a particularly powerful psychic, so he shouldn’t be picking up on the more subtle emotions flowing through the air. The stronger ones he had already sifted through and catalogued, noting the various sources and already mentally constructing his report. This curious sensation was alien to him. He could almost attribute it to the foreignness of the visitors. Almost. His gaze traveled over the small dark-haired woman seated across from him, paused an instant before moving on. His glance did not continue far before it snapped back. It took only an instant to realize it was silent Thea Chartier who was piquing his interest. His gaze lingered on the small woman, running down her throat to savor the feminine curves of full breasts and slender waist before returning to her face. Watching as she raised her glass, he locked his gaze on her lush lips when they parted to take a sip of wine. He was mesmerized by the gleam of liquid bathing her lips, a small pink tongue darting out to sweep over them. He felt his heart stutter as heat filled him.
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She was exquisite, irresistible. Fascinating. Her very presence ignited all sorts of sensations, none he had ever felt before. Never taking his eyes from her face, he raised his glass to his lips. The liquid sloshed over the rim of his glass, making him realize his hand was trembling with tension. He was shocked. It was the first time he’d ever experienced any type of sexual attraction. Fascinated, Conlan examined the sensation, a fission of anticipation traveling down his spine. He unveiled his mind hesitantly, with a sense of reluctance, and allowed a mental probe to reach out toward the small woman. In his forty-seven cycles he had made countless attempts to locate his psi-mate, each time meeting with disappointment. It came as a shock when his tentative probe found a receptive spark within the mind of Thea Chartier. He nearly lost his grip on the delicate wineglass as the skeins of her mind twined with his, establishing the first tenuous pathways of a true Link. Carefully he set his glass on the table, closing his eyes to better savor those first gossamer-fine connections. Another shiver of anticipation wended its way through him. Thea frowned, pausing in the process of lifting her spoon to her lips. He knew she felt it. Her hand trembled as she hurriedly set the utensil down beside her soup bowl with a clatter. Extending his touch, Tammar felt a flood of warmth spread throughout his mind, igniting a heat of desire. The jolt of lust hardened already tense muscles to the point of pain. With a quick glance around the room, he adjusted the cloth napkin on his lap as he felt his body’s uncontrollable reaction. Thea was looking around uneasily. He knew her subconscious detected his intrusion yet didn’t understand the source. Her wary gaze met his. The rest of the room receded, all conversation muting to a dull background noise. “Captain? Captain Tammar?” Conlan wrenched his attention to others, belatedly realizing that he had lost the thread of the conversation. The look in his eyes as he focused on Princess Rianna must have been wild, because she stared at him with shock. “Yes, Your Highness?” He felt moisture bead his forehead as he tried to regain his composure. Inside he was elated, barely able to contain himself. He wanted to leap to his feet,
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catch Thea Chartier up into his arms and bear her away. He wanted to shout out his joy, his triumph. After so many cycles he had found his psi-mate! He had all but given up hope. That he should find her under such unexpected circumstances was astounding. “Did you find the assassins?” “Rianna, maarai, do not!” Even as he sent the warning out, Jhaan knew he was too late. He had been caught up in the various emotions flowing throughout the room, unaware of the direction of her thoughts. All conversation stuttered to a halt. Jhaan was swift to mark the reactions of the alien guests, particularly the interest of the Turnisian heir. Jhaan made a sweeping probe of the alien minds, centering on A’Sarah, but found nothing revealing. Touching on the man’s mental flow was like wading against the strong current of a fouled river. His emotions swung from one direction to another, never pausing long enough to allow a thorough reading. The reactions of the remaining aliens ranged from alarm to shocked disbelief. “Why not?” Jhaan was so focused that he nearly missed Rianna’s soft inquiry as it touched his thoughts. Reluctantly he abandoned the various emotions lingering in the air. “We do not know who commissioned those killers. No mention of them might cause their employer to make a slip.” “You suspect someone here?” “Assassins, Your Highness?” Tammar mumbled, clearly distracted. Jhaan turned his attention on the captain, astounded to find confusion on the man’s normally stony expression. Without hesitation he swept the man’s emotions. The chaos he found was unexpected in a man whose cold, analytical self-control was legendary. Never in the long history of the captain’s service had he displayed such carelessness. Not only were his thoughts in complete disarray, but his emotions were a swirl of heady elation intermingled with a strong dose of lust. Jhaan’s eyes followed the direction of Tammar’s focus, finding the maelstrom of emotions centered on the silent Zarian woman seated across the table from him.
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His astonishment mounted as he realized what must have occurred. Was such a thing possible a second time? A strong level of psi Talent must run in the Chartier family. Jhaan could almost sympathize with the man’s dilemma. The unexpected onslaught of emotions was overwhelming to the unprepared. But, by the same token, Captain Tammar had let slip information better kept concealed for the moment. Jhaan felt Tammar’s effort to rein in his emotions and focus on Rianna, but his glance kept straying back to Thea Chartier. “We found one body, no one else.” The captain appeared unaware of his words. Perspiration bathed his face and darkened the high collar of his tunic. “One body! What happened to the second man?” Rianna shivered and set her wineglass down before she dropped it. The survivor had to be the man called Cayo. She had no doubt her aim had been true when she shot Smitty. “We only found the one, Your Highness.” “Captain, cease!” Jhaan’s psychic command was audible to Rianna, causing her to wince. Through the sudden eruption of pandemonium at the captain’s words, she noted neither Saris nor Ilena included their shocked exclamations into the general melee. Why weren’t they surprised? She could understand Lady Torane’s lack of interest since she appeared to care for nothing save her own pleasures. But as her supposed fiancé, she would think that Saris would be concerned. Although tempted, she made no attempt to read their emotions. She didn’t possess the experience to maintain an unfettered probe. “What is the meaning of this?” Bertram Chartier bellowed. “Nothing was said of an attempt made upon my niece’s life!” “Rianna, you were unharmed?” Thea exclaimed in alarm. “This is intolerable!” Perrin Soltaine injected above the general babble of voices. From his position at the head of the table, King Ardon merely raised one hand to silence the eruption of protests. “Captain Tammar!” Rianna heard the command clearly as the king took control and snapped Tammar from his bemusement. “Get control of yourself!”
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Tammar’s head jerked, the confusion clearing from glazed eyes as he seemed to realize the extent of his carelessness. Color crept into his high cheekbones as his now cold gray gaze swept over the assembled guests. “It appears that the princess’s ship was attacked by pirates,” he stated, his voice dispassionate. He held up one hand to forestall the immediate wave of protest. “I cannot say anything more. There is an ongoing investigation. I am not at liberty to discuss it further.” Rianna stared down at the bowl of creamy soup before her, stirring it as she listened to the renewed outrage expressed by her uncle on one end of the table and the Turnis ambassador on the other. Each seemed intent on outdoing the other with badgering the captain for information. Her glance went to Saris, but he appeared to take no interest in garnering any information on the attack on her. It made her wonder whether he had anything to do with her assailants. But as far as she knew, he had no motive? He’d expressed no objection to the union. Only disinterest. The meal continued in much the same vein. Her uncle directed pointed questions to the now stoic captain, who in turn smoothly deflected any bid for additional information. As the meal progressed Bertram’s interrogation grew more insistent, bordering on haranguing. It was a while before Ilena’s trilling laughter caught her attention. Rianna looked over in time to see Ilena lean forward, her chin cradled in her hands, the bodice of her gown gapping to reveal far too much of her charms to the man across the table. Jhaan. Rianna mused with sour humor that if Ilena leaned forward much further, she would be in danger of falling out of her dress. The woman’s attempts to seduce Jhaan were doomed to failure. With care, Rianna traced Jhaan’s emotions and found nothing but polite interest. Not a spark of sexual attraction. Despite herself, satisfaction made her smile. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she banished the smile. She mustn’t forget how Jhaan had deceived her and tricked her into marriage. His motive may have been noble, but it didn’t excuse his actions. Still…Rianna’s glance flickered over to the silent figure of Saris with distaste. His face was slack as he shoveled his meal into his mouth with a methodical single-mindedness, making no effort to join in the general conversation. His only interest appeared to be that his wineglass be
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kept filled. Even as she watched, he raised an imperious hand and gestured to a servant for a refill, retaining his arrogant manner even in his inebriated state. In a way, Jhaan had saved her from a loveless marriage. Only to thrust her into another loveless marriage. Rianna paused. Was it a loveless marriage? Although she’d only known him a few days, what she felt for Jhaan was beyond anything she’d experienced before. Her appetite evaporated. What did she feel for him? Lust? No question there. Admiration? Definitely. He hadn’t hesitated to come to her aid, endangering himself. He had the best interest of his people in mind. And everything he did was for her benefit. The man made it difficult to remain angry with him. However, Ilena Torane made it easy to stay angry. The woman’s behavior was bordering on flagrant. She was all but crawling across the table to get to Jhaan. It wasn’t long before Rianna was fuming until she realized that much of her pique stemmed from jealousy. Which she knew was ridiculous and tried to quash her growing possessiveness. Any remaining appetite vanished under these thoughts and she gestured to the hovering servant to remove her plate. Immersed in her thoughts, Rianna had been only half listening to the other conversations going on around her. While she focused on her thoughts and confusion, her uncle had continued his tirade, now alternating between Captain Tammar and King Ardon. He punctuated his many points with waves of his eating utensil, his actions threatening to stab Melia sana con Bruna on more than one occasion. Forced several times to lean away to avoid injury, the contemptuous curl of the woman’s lip grew more pronounced. It was evident each time her flat dark gaze swept over the off-worlders. Rianna’s gaze rested on her for a moment, thoughtful. For a woman supposedly in love with her husband, Melia displayed little affection toward the man seated at her side. Her expression changed little from that superlative attitude she bestowed upon the aliens. If anything, there was a flare of burning resentment whenever her glance happened to fall on her husband. Rianna took a brief moment to wonder if theirs was an arranged marriage. It would certainly explain much of the animosity that flowed below the surface between them.
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“That a princess of the realm is unsafe while out on a harmless jaunt is disgraceful,” Bertram Chartier declared, leaving little doubt to whom the comment was directed. “Have no doubt that I will take this matter up with the next quarterly meeting of the F.O.W. Trade Cartel. Regardless of the fact that Dakar is not a Cartel member, penalties should and will be levied.” The venom of that particular comment captured Rianna’s full attention, causing her head to whip around as she realized where this was going. Although she doubted that the Trade Cartel would have any right to penalize Dakar, they just might find a way. Beyond a doubt, Salazar would be in a position to reap some sort of profit from the attempt. Her uncle wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise. In any event, it would give her uncle leverage to blackmail Dakar into a trade agreement. On his terms. Enough was enough! This had gone beyond rude. It was bordering on criminal.
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Chapter Fourteen Slapping her utensil down, Rianna levered herself half out of her seat to glare down the length of the table at Bertram Chartier. “Uncle, please! That is enough! I was fortunate enough to have found refuge here on Dakar and came to no harm. When His Majesty or Captain Tammar has further information, I am certain they will share it with us.” Bertram sputtered to a halt, indignant color flooding his face as he glared back at her. For a moment there was a clash of temperaments as they faced off down the length of the table. Silence descended on the other diners, the only sound a young servant dropping a spoon into an empty bowl with a resounding clatter. Bertram’s eyes narrowed with menace, but as he opened his mouth, he seemed to become aware of the deafening silence. Even the clumsy servant froze in the act of placing a laden plate before Perrin Soltaine, shock rounding the young man’s eyes. The lengthening silence drew Bertram’s glance to the sea of faces, some watching him, others staring at their plates. With a visible effort, he controlled himself, giving Rianna an angry glower before returning his attention to his meal. Rianna knew that any confrontation with her uncle would be saved for a time when they were assured privacy. Reclaiming her seat with outward calm, she dipped into her dessert with a show of enjoyment. Inside she was trembling with both the residue of anger and nerves. She’d stood up to her uncle before, but never in public. It simply was not acceptable behavior for a lady. Again, she felt a sense of relief in the knowledge that she would not be returning to Salazar with Bertram. She would have felt duty bound to follow the wishes of her family, but with Jhaan’s actions, the decision had been taken out of her hands. An unwanted gratitude wormed its way into her heart.
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“Well done, Rianna, maarai.” She felt the brush of Jhaan’s warm approval, causing a slight smile to curve her lips before she allowed it to fade. The level of violence she’d felt emanating from the Dakarians during the confrontation had warmed her and made her aware that she had numerous champions within the room. Sampling the sweetened custard with her first real enjoyment since the commencement of the meal, Rianna was surprised to realize that she felt refreshed. Reprimanding Bertram Chartier had been a pleasure. How often in the past had she been forced to bite her tongue? Countless times. Her uncle was a belligerent bully who did not hesitate to browbeat anyone to his way of thinking. The remainder of the meal passed with no further incidents. If her uncle made a special effort to address his conversation elsewhere, it was of no consequence to Rianna. She barely noticed. She was distracted by the renewed antics of Ilena Torane. With her newfound talent, Rianna could feel the woman’s intensity wafting through the air with the heaviness of perfume. Her good mood soured. Had that woman no shame? Her conduct was disgusting. Rianna could not smother the invasive trickle of jealousy wending its way into her heart even though it was unwarranted. Jhaan was certainly giving the appearance of welcoming her attentions even if no real interest shimmered down their link. Unable to continue watching the display, she turned a cold shoulder on him to engage King Ardon in conversation with a show of enthusiasm. She made a point of allowing her annoyance to shimmer along their shared link, knowing Jhaan touched on her emotions from time to time. Whenever she felt the brush of his consciousness, she made sure that she projected prickly displeasure. The first time she was left with an echo of indulgent amusement that only heightened her anger. After an interminable length of time, Queen Janae finally rose to signal an end to the meal. “Please, join us in the salon for a glass of spirits,” she said, her gracious smile including both family and guests. Standing, Rianna waited for the Dakarian rulers to precede their guests from the room. She was surprised when Queen Janae paused at her side.
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“Would you do me the honor of joining me, my dear?” The older woman’s words possessed an encouraging warmth as she held out her hand. Uncertain, Rianna glanced toward Jhaan to find him still engaged with the Turnisian female. As she watched, he bent his head closer to better hear a low comment made by Ilena. With a toss of her head, Rianna accepted Queen Janae’s arm and allowed herself to be ushered from the room. “It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty,” she said as she accompanied the queen down a short corridor to a sumptuously appointed room. “There is so much I would like to learn about Dakar.” “I’ll be happy to answer your questions, my dear. You have only to ask.” The salon they entered was comfortable with soothing colors and many cushioned seats. Light cell sconces threw a muted illumination over the room, creating a sense of intimacy. One wall consisted of solid glass windows opening onto a paved terrace which in turn led into the gardens. The doors were thrown open to admit the warmth of the fragrant night air. “Come, my dear, sit with me,” Queen Janae urged as she led Rianna over to a flowered sofa. Magically, a young servant appeared with a silver tray laden with several small crystal glasses. Janae selected two, handing one of them to Rianna. Rianna took a tiny sip of the pale green liquid. The potent liquor held a faint fruitiness and slid down her throat to pool in her stomach with a burning comfort. “I’d like to thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty,” Rianna said as she watched the other guests file in. Her uncle made a point of positioning himself some distance from her as he took a seat near Perrin Soltaine and Aunt Thea tucked herself into a secluded alcove. Jhaan’s cousin, Demitry, and his wife stood together just inside the room, surveying the aliens in a superior manner. With their attitude of superiority, Rianna decided that she was not going to like these two relations of Jhaan’s. Their arrogance outstripped even Saris’s. Without hesitation, Jhaan moved to join Rianna, leaning over the back of the sofa she occupied with his mother. Gentle fingers brushed against her hair, caressing one soft strand with idle pleasure. She was about to pull out of his reach, but then saw Ilena Torane entering the room just ahead of Saris. The woman paused, looking around with obvious anticipation. Rianna felt
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the instant she located Jhaan. Ilena took a step in his direction, but Saris caught her by the arm, bending to murmur something in her ear. From her expression, she was not pleased with his interception. Even while she listened to Saris, her eyes remained on Jhaan, predatory. Seeking to distract herself, Rianna rushed into speech. “You must allow me to apologize for my uncle’s behavior, Your Majesty. He…can be somewhat combative upon occasion.” “No apology is necessary, my dear. You and your family are most welcome here on Dakar.” Janae paused to sip her drink. “I think my husband and I accurately read Lord Chartier during our earlier meeting.” Although the other woman’s beautiful face remained serene, Rianna noticed that her eyes were rarely still. She continuously tracked the other occupants of the room, signaling the servants when a guest required refreshment, mindful of their every need. “Dakar is not anything like I expected, Your Highness.” Although determined to ignore the man, a small part of her honed in on Jhaan’s presence behind her. Those teasing fingers continued to idly stroke the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. “The computers onboard my ship carried very little information about Dakar as I was searching for a refuge.” “We tend to keep to ourselves.” Queen Janae’s response held a touch of amusement. “Yes, Jhaan explained why.” Rianna hesitated for a moment before broaching the subject which preyed on her mind. Something she had to know. She glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. “Can…everyone here read minds?” Queen Janae tilted her head as she focused her full attention on Rianna. There was a sense of weighing in her eyes, but Rianna met her gaze without flinching. “No,” the older woman responded just before Rianna felt a light brushing sensation against her mind. “I cannot read your thoughts at present, Rianna. I can only touch on your emotions, and then only what you allow. Right now your mind is untrained, vulnerable.” “What do you mean by vulnerable?” Before his mother could answer, Jhaan broke in. “Our children are trained from a very early age to control their Talent, Rianna. Psychic overload could be dangerous for the very young, sending an untrained child into a coma. Should that occur, only our most powerful healer would
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be able to revive him or her.” His glance was somber as he swept it over the room, searching out and lingering on the nearly hidden figure of Thea Chartier. “Your family must possess a strong psychic strain.” “Not that I was ever aware of.” “Have you never had a sense of premonition?” Queen Janae asked. “A certain knowing that something was going to occur?” “Not really.” Rianna was silent for a moment as she turned this over in her mind. “Although…” She hesitated. “I’ve always had a very sound instinct when it came to judging people.” Janae nodded in satisfaction. “One aspect of the Talent,” she confirmed. “The ability generally manifests in different ways.” “Is there a danger if one is untrained?” Rianna was fascinated. Regardless of her initial misgivings, there was something tantalizing in the ability to read another’s thoughts, to know their innermost secrets. “At your age? Not much. There is a slight risk should you run afoul of a particularly strong psychic with dark intentions, but that is very unlikely. We impose strong deterrents to prevent ambitious or malicious tampering. And even that danger will fade as you exercise your Talent and learn control. With time you will learn to shield anyone from reading you.” She sipped from her glass, her glance once more monitoring her guests and ensuring their comfort. “Once, eons ago, there was an unscrupulous practice of bending one’s will. Of making a puppet of a victim. However, such a practice has been outlawed for countless centuries. The penalties for tampering with another’s will are harsh and unforgiving.” Rianna turned this over in her mind. It was a relief to know there was a way of guarding her innermost thoughts. She glanced around once more before she dropped her voice lower yet. “Why is Jhaan able to both read my thoughts and speak to me through telepathy?” “The Linking Ceremony,” Queen Janae confirmed. “Plus with familiarity my husband and I are able to send our thoughts to our son and in turn receive his. With time we will be able to do the same with you. But again,” she stressed, “only if you allow it, my dear child.”
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Rianna found reassurance in her words. With casual grace, Jhaan came around and perched himself on the arm of the sofa, one hard thigh pressing against her back. Rianna resisted the urge to lean back into his strength. Stealing a quick glance in Saris’s direction, she was relieved to see that he was more interested in the contents of his glass than he was in her actions. But Ilena seemed to be watching her every move. With a sigh, Rianna tried to rein in her rising fascination with Jhaan. Tried to remind herself why she was angry with him. She already knew she could never leave Dakar. The thought alone sent a shaft of pain through her heart. Dakar was enchanting her—to say nothing of its Crown Prince. “Tantalizing thought, isn’t it?” he murmured as he leaned back to slide his arm over the backrest of the sofa. One hand reached out to once again play with a long strand of hair. Rianna felt her heart rate quicken and leaned forward far enough to free her hair, annoyed with herself. Queen Janae was watching the play between them and gave Rianna a smile. “Men are difficult creatures to begin with. A man with psychic abilities will be a challenge.” Standing, she touched Rianna’s cheek. “My son can be impetuous, but he’s a good man.” With a smile she crossed the room to where Bertram stood, smoothly directing the staff as she passed. “Your mother is right. You are impetuous.” “When did she say that?” Rianna glanced up at him, surprised. Janae must have excluded him from that last comment. If someone as strong as Jhaan hadn’t detected his mother’s message… It gave her a clue as to how tight this telepathic ability could be. “Never mind.” Straightening in her seat, she noticed Ilena edging closer to where they sat. Unable to face the woman’s continued pursuit of Jhaan, Rianna stood. “Wait. We need to talk,” he said as he followed suit. His gaze followed hers and she felt a flicker of annoyance travel down their link. Catching her hand, he urged her toward the open doors that led onto the terrace. “Come with me, please.”
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For an instant she hesitated, torn between wanting to go with him, and closing her eyes to the future. Gazing up at him, she made a snap decision. She was not a coward. They had to work this out. Without further protest, she allowed him to lead her into the tropical night.
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Chapter Fifteen Jhaan felt the turmoil of her thoughts as he led her onto the terrace. The murmur of conversation faded as the warmth of the evening enfolded them. Pulling her hand free, she stopped, crossing her arms under her breasts. “So talk.” He ran his hands through his hair with frustration. She might be willing to listen, but she wasn’t going to make it easy. He felt Rianna attempt to read his emotions through their link, and threw up a block. He wasn’t ready to have her delve the degree of dismay, guilt and determination he was feeling at present. There was a feathering sensation as he felt her examine the obstruction, tracing the seamless smoothness that contained his innermost thoughts. “I know you’re still angry about my deceiving you, but until the person or persons who tried to kill you is found, I need to keep you close.” “You think another attempt will be made?” “I don’t know. Now that you are married and no longer a candidate for the Turnisian heir…perhaps.” “So you suspect Saris.” “I suspect everyone.” “Why?” Jhaan glanced around. They were still too close to the open doors leading into the salon. To ensure their privacy, he took her arm and urged her away from light streaming in through the windows to the far end of the terrace where the shadows concealed them from prying eyes. As a precaution he scanned the area to reassure himself that there was no one in the immediate vicinity. “I get the impression there is more than one agenda at work here. Whether it originates from Turnis, Salazar or even here on Dakar, I cannot risk your safety until this is resolved.” “What aren’t you telling me?” 154
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Jhaan hesitated, doubt eating at him. He’d handled this situation wrong from the beginning. He had to regain her trust. “Look deep within yourself,” he said. “Look inside of me. A part of me resides within your mind, just as a part of you is within mine.” He felt her willingness to listen and stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against her forehead, deliberately opening himself so that his male emotions permeated her mind. “We are linked, Rianna. What happens to me, happens to you. If harm comes to you, the same will come to me.” Rianna felt a frisson of fear work its way up from the pit of her stomach and nearly drown out the spark of her own desires as they rose to the surface. This was a responsibility she didn’t want. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” She put up a hand to halt anything he might have said. “Never mind. You didn’t see fit to tell me we were married. What’s a little thing like this in light of that?” Fighting the urge to burrow against his warmth, she stepped away from him. It was difficult to ignore the curling appetite that rose in response to his touch. Would it always be like this? Despite his deceit, she still craved his touch, his taste? “You are the most arrogant, highhanded man I’ve ever met, Jhaan. Considering my family, that’s saying something.” “Rianna…” Hardening her resolve, she fought to betray no response although her heightened breathing gave her the lie. His hand slid up her arm, over her shoulder until his fingers buried themselves in her loosened hair, twining the silken strands into his fist to gently pull her head back. She had no choice but to look up into his eyes. Narrowed, those incredibly long lashes all but hid the golden gleam in his eyes, yet she had no trouble reading his hunger. He was transmitting his ardor, seeking to further inflame hers. Resisting his tactics, she flashed him an indignant glance as she pulled free once more. “You cannot get around me with sex, Jhaan. Don’t even try. And stay out of my head.”
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With that she turned and left him, storming off into the relative privacy of the gardens before she disgraced herself by giving in. Even now she could feel her own desire thrumming through her bloodstream, taste it on her tongue. The darkness of the night enfolded her in the comforting arms of anonymity. Whatever breeze there had been during the day had died with the falling of dusk, drenching the warm air with perfumed scents, while the night sky was brilliant with pinpoints of light, clear and sparkling. She’d just about come to terms with his deception and now he hit her with yet another one. Stalking down the gravel path, she fought the urge to give in to her sense of betrayal. Instead she re-examined the block she’d felt Jhaan put up when he concealed his thoughts. With care she set about building a rudimentary copy, using instinct and hints she was able to glean from her conversation with both Jhaan and his mother. She sensed it was a fragile construction, but was proud of her attempt. Her thoughts relentlessly returned to the man she’d just left. There was more he wasn’t telling her, she could sense it. To think she had actually trusted him, had been falling in love with him. Only to find that he had been using her because of some obscure genetic fluke of nature. She had thought he felt some tenderness for her, perhaps even some affection. Doubly the fool. Pausing at a fork in the path, she chose the darker one and continued on her way. For the moment she couldn’t decide who she was most angry with. Jhaan, or herself. Pausing beside a large blooming bush, Rianna absently fingered the petals of a night flower, its smooth texture rivaling the finest silk. In an attempt to set aside her sense of betrayal, she tried to examine the situation she now found herself in, wondering just how binding this linking ceremony was. If what Jhaan claimed was true, they were bound in a manner that transcended F.O.W. law. It sounded like a true “until death” issue. Deep down, something shied away from the thought of leaving him, of never seeing him again. Whatever Magistrate deMallori had done last night had changed her forever. She suspected there was no going back.
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She put a hand to her head. Her emotions were swinging from one direction to another. Were these her own, or were they something Jhaan had somehow planted in her subconscious? Who really knew what these Dakarians were capable of? Who knew what she was capable of? She could not deny her own developing psi ability. So what did that make her? The sound of a step crunching on the gravel made Rianna swing around to find Jhaan close behind her. He must have been trailing her since she had stormed off, his approach silent until he chose to reveal his presence. Eyes narrowed and giving him no warning, she dropped her carefully constructed shield and flung open their link, delving into his thoughts before he had a chance to guard them. For one unwary moment she was able to read the depth of his emotions intermixed with stray surface thoughts. Dominant was a sense of uncertainty as well as a heightened caution and rising determination. Amazed, she realized that he was not about to give her up without a fight. A bit of her tension eased. Jhaan felt Rianna’s presence in his mind but did nothing to conceal his thoughts. She had a right to access his mind. But he did regulate his emotions, tuning them to a soothing cadence. He was pleased that she’d voluntarily opened the connection and knew this was a delicate moment. He had to somehow regain her trust. Approaching his psi-mate with care, Jhaan slid his hands around Rianna’s throat, using his thumbs to tilt her chin upward, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were colorless in the shadows of the night, impossible to read. “Your anger is unfounded, maarai. I apologize for deceiving you, but I couldn’t take a chance that you would refuse me.” While trailing her, he had considered and rejected several explanations. After some thought he decided on a direct approach. He allowed a touch of his uncertainty to color his emotions. He had little experience with the moods of a woman, never having had such an emotional tie. Deflecting a woman’s ire was a mystery. “I should have told you the truth from the beginning, Rianna. I was wrong to lie to you.” His thumbs brushed over her pulse, a gentle caressing of the line of her throat. Jhaan bent his head to press a soothing kiss to one corner of her mouth, brushing along the angle of her jaw.
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He was careful to play on her senses, rather than infringe on her mind. He could feel some of her ire dissipate and tried to keep his thoughts soothing. He caught a stray thought with regard to his tolerance of Ilena Torane’s attentions, a spike of jealousy emerging through their still open link. Jhaan gave an involuntary bark of laughter, muffling it against her throat as he pressed a lingering kiss against her pulse. His words were muffled as he continued his intimate explorations. “I assure you, Lady Torane was little more than a trifling annoyance.” “Despite your claim you can feel nothing for the woman, you weren’t exactly discouraging her.” Rianna shrugged out of his loose hold. “That woman was unwrapping you like a sweet treat and you were enjoying every moment of it.” Jhaan slanted her a wry glance, allowing amusement to flare along their link. He sensed he was near to winning her over. “Ilena Torane means nothing to me, ni harai. I did not welcome her attentions. In fact, the woman has more arms than a brokai. In Dakarian society, the male does not show disrespect to a woman—any woman.” He stressed the last two words as he turned her to once again face him, his hands spanning her waist and urging her closer until she could feel his arousal. He bent his head to feather a string of kisses over her temple and down her smooth cheek to briefly press his lips to hers. “Even if said woman is an unmitigated pest.” He allowed the thought to float free, knowing Rianna would catch it. He swallowed her involuntary laughter, breaching her lips and slipping his tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers in a sensuous duel. Caressing her moist warmth he simultaneously transmitted his rising arousal through their link, feeding her desire with a simple, gentle flow. Heat licked along her skin as she read the extent of his passions, her own rising to the brink of control. Her hands had been resting against his muscular chest, holding a slight distance between them. Now she raised them to trail over his shoulders until she wound her fingers into the luxurious length of his auburn hair, combing through the thick tresses. Somehow she couldn’t resist this man. He had managed to worm his way into her heart and she suspected she’d never get him out.
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With sudden aggression she took control of the kiss, drawing back only far enough to catch his lower lip with her teeth. She nipped at the tender tissue before laving it with her tongue, relishing in the taste of him. She purred against his lips as she sensuously arched her body against his, sliding her breasts snug against his hard chest while sliding one leg between his to rub against his arousal. Jhaan’s muscles contracted in response and a low growl escaped his lips. Through their link she felt him threaten to spiral out of control. With a provocative smile, Rianna broke off the kiss and slipped from his arms, putting a slight distance between them. When he would have have reached for her, she danced a few steps out of reach. Holding his gaze, she raised her hands to the tiny buttons running the length of the bodice of her gown, slipping each pearled stud from its hole with slow deliberation. Jhaan’s gaze dropped to follow her fingers, watching as the gap widened. Tilting her head back, Rianna slipped her hands into the bodice to lift and touch herself with feather-light fingers, allowing her rising arousal to dance through her mind to his, entangling his sense and feeding his passions. In the dim light of the moon, she saw his eyes flare to molten gold, glowing with a blazing heat. A squeak of surprise escaped her as she was caught up in his arms. Lifting her, he buried his face against her bared breasts, breathing in her scent with open hunger. Rianna threw back her head to allow him unhindered access to her body, her hands gripping his arms to steady herself as her head spun. She felt as if she had overindulged in the spirits offered earlier, drunk on the emotions he so freely transmitted. Something tickled at the back of her mind, something unusual. Her eyes opened to sweep the darker shadows surrounding them, but Jhaan’s lips on her breast quickly made her forget the brief disquiet.
Ilena Torane’s eyes burned as she watched the embracing couple from her concealment. She was close enough to hear every word. An annoyance, was she? More arms than a brokai, whatever that was. He did not welcome her attentions? Every word burned into her soul.
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She had followed Jhaan into the darkened gardens with every intention of proceeding with the next phase of her seduction. During the course of the meal, he had been so receptive to her, listening to her with fascination while appearing to enjoy her many touches. Each liberty she had taken left her aching for more. She hadn’t noticed his actual departure from the salon and was convinced that he had slipped into the gardens as encouragement for her to follow. It had taken her some time to extricate herself from that buffoon Saris and make innocent inquiries as to Jhaan’s whereabouts. Melia had been more than willing to direct her into the extensive gardens. The woman’s eyes had revealed a touch of malice which Ilena ignored. Accustomed to such slights directed her way by women of higher station, she had long ago learned to discount them. Their petty jealousies were of no consequence. It never occurred to her that Jhaan had been intent on indulging in a rendezvous of his own. Mortification knifed through her. Although she knew she made no sound, the Dakarian raised his head without warning, his eyes scanning the surrounding shadows. Moving with care on slippered feet, Ilena eased back one step at a time until she was some distance from the source of her humiliation. Turning, she suddenly came up against the broad chest of a man standing silently behind her. Her gasp was almost inaudible as one punishing hand came up to grip her arm, the other clapping over her mouth to silence any outcry. Roughly she was pushed farther down the path, well out of the range of hearing of anyone nearby—in particular the embracing couple. When they came to halt, a stray flash of light allowed Ilena to recognize Demitry con Bruna. “You are a fool, woman,” he snapped in a low furious voice, his scorn evident. When he’d seen the woman hovering near Jhaan and his lady, Demitry had immediately blanketed her presence from his cousin. Had Jhaan scanned his immediate surroundings only moments earlier, he would have detected Ilena’s presence. It was fortunate he was so enthralled with his mate that he was careless. It would not do for his cousin to realize he had two people spying on his every move. “How dare you! You have no right to manhandle me.” Demitry watched her rub her arm. She’d probably have a mark in the morning, but that was of little concern to him.
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“Do you honestly believe my cousin has any interest in you?” Demitry sneered, contempt in his voice. “Jhaan has found his mate. He will have nothing to do with you.” “You do not know that!” Ilena paused, confusion passing over her face. “What do you mean by mate?” “Dakarian men feel no sexual attraction for a female unless she is his born mate. My cousin has found his mate in the Zarian woman.” “You mean no man on this forsaken world has sex unless it’s with his mate?” Ilena’s tone was incredulous, her shock evident on her face. “I had the throne within my reach. If my cousin had reached his thirty-fifth cycle without locating his mate, he would have been declared sterile.” Demitry paced a short distance down the path and turned. “Even if he had found his mate a peri-cycle later, or cycles later, it would not have mattered. Once passed over as heir, there are no second chances. But now that Jhaan has found his psi-mate, he has been confirmed ruling heir.” Unless something should happen to him or Rianna, Demitry added silently. The injustice ate at his soul. After all the plans he had made. All the precautions he had taken. All the cycles he had wasted. “Your attempts to seduce my cousin meant nothing to him. His only desire is for the Zarian woman.” Demitry watched as dawning horror washed over Ilena’s face. No doubt she was recalling what a fool she’d made of herself at dinner. With a delicate touch, Demitry fed her humiliation, strengthening the depth of her mortification and adding a sharp edge to her anger. He carefully monitored the Turnisian woman’s emotions as he pitched them higher. By the time he escorted Ilena Torane back to the salon, he was almost satisfied with the degree of hatred now burning in her breast. There was time enough to tweak it to a final level of usefulness.
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Chapter Sixteen “What is it?” Rianna whispered as Jhaan scanned the shadows. She followed the direction of his gaze, trying to penetrate the soft dusk, but found only the warmth of the night’s magic, so quiet it seemed nothing could intrude. She’d been only peripherally aware of their surroundings, finding it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the man in her arms. Her lips were swollen with the force of his kisses while her breasts felt heavy, sensitive and aching for more. He continued to stare out into the darkness for a moment longer before returning his attention to her. Even in the dimmed light she could see his eyes were heated with passion. That she had the power to generate such a response was a heady feeling. “It is nothing, maarai. For a moment I thought I felt something.” As her fogged senses cleared, alarm rounded her eyes before she glanced out over the darkened gardens. She fumbled to close her gapping gown, her cheeks heating. She couldn’t seem to get the buttons into the corresponding holes. What if someone had been watching them, spying on them? Jhaan’s hands halted her as she struggled with the tiny pearl buttons at her bodice. “There is no one near, my Rianna.” She hesitated. Moistening her lips nervously, she calmed herself long enough to concentrate on the residue of his psychic scan, examining the method he used. It didn’t look too difficult, she decided before she gathered herself to reconstruct the psi flow. Inexperience made her clumsy as she made her own sweep of the night, but she was able to detect only the natural fauna found in their surroundings. There were several small creatures foraging nearby while something soared high overhead in search of its meal of insects. She could feel Jhaan’s presence but no one else’s. She relaxed and returned her attention to the man at her side, her eyes drinking him in. The sight of his dark beauty once more heated her blood. The silken strands of his loosened hair fell over his brow in a beguiling manner, while his eyes watched her with frank provocation—daring her to continue their sensual interlude. 162
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Taking up his unspoken challenge, she leaned forward to toy with the material of his tunic. With teasing fingers she released each tape, pausing now and then to admire the expanse of broad chest revealed by her efforts. Bringing her hands up to splay across the hard muscles of his chest, she combed her fingers through the curling hair, peering up at him through the thickness of her lashes. “Do you like that?” Her voice was a throaty purr. His sensual lips curled into an answering smile. However he would have responded melted into an incoherent groan as she gently pinched one nipple. With a deliberate provocation she leaned forward to stroke the flat brown pad with the tip of her tongue, swirling there for a moment before lapping upward with agonizing slowness. “And this?” “Rianna…” When he would have reached for her, she slipped back a pace. “Ah, ah, ah,” she admonished with a shake of her head. “You’ve had your way far too often, Jhaan san deCain. It’s my turn.” Jhaan watched her in silence through half-closed eyes. She could feel the effort he exerted in reining in his own aggression. With a low groan, he dropped his arms, projecting a sense of submission. She could tell it was not an emotion he was familiar with. “I am yours to command.” Rianna knew her smile was smug as she stepped forward, her breasts brushing against the hard planes of his chest. Rubbing the sensitive tips against him, she made no effort to conceal her rising anticipation. As she feathered a kiss along the line of his jaw, she felt him clench his teeth. She felt a need to torture him—if only a little bit—for his deception. Pausing to nibble on the underside of his jaw, she brushed herself against him, feeling the press of his erection against her belly. This time he couldn’t control the moan that escaped his lips, blending it into a low curse when she pushed closer, rubbing against his pelvis in a blatant invitation. “Rianna…” The strain in his voice was satisfying, but Rianna found her teasing was a two-edged blade. It was becoming an effort to keep her torment slow, teasing him into a sexual frenzy, knowing full well what she was doing to him, what she was doing to herself. Shivering waves of sensations raced down her spine, both her daring and her confidence rising with the evidence of
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his arousal. She could feel the force of his heartbeat under her fingertips as she combed them through his chest hair, caressing the hard muscles, marveling over the difference of his masculine form, the intoxicating heat rising from his powerful body. She reveled in the knowledge that he wanted her, needed her. Without warning Jhaan gathered her up in his arms, his face a hard mask of passion as he turned to bear her deeper into the night, without hesitation leaving the paved pathway to make his way onto a little used dirt trail to wind deeper into the dark gardens. The abundance of foliage brushed against them as they passed. Rianna had instinctively flung her arms around his neck. Snuggling under his chin, she drew a deep breath, relishing his hot masculine scent, savoring the strength in his arms, cradling her so securely. “Where are we going?” Her voice was low as she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat, a mischievous tongue sweeping up the line of his neck. His skin tasted salty, completely masculine. The glance he angled down at her was sensual, barely visible even in the glow of the full moon, yet Rianna’s breath caught at the promise she read there. She squirmed in his arms, unable to control her rising desire. She wanted him. Given their link, concealing her longing was senseless. “Patience, ni harai maarai.” The hush of the night was complete when Jhaan halted and set her on a low stone wall. She could feel the warmth of the surface through the layers of her clothing, the stone retaining the heat absorbed by the day’s sun. Her breath caught when he swept her skirts up, sliding his hands along her thighs. Pushing her knees apart, he slid between, pressing himself against the damp heat of her sex. The rigid length of him, hard and implacable, made her melt as her own desire ate away at her. She kept her arms wound around his neck as Jhaan bent to nuzzle at the still gapping bodice of her gown, sliding his hands within to span the narrowness of her waist, urging her closer. She felt the heat of his breath on her breasts as he arched her forward until his mouth found one hardened nipple. His tongue slid over the turgid tip, pausing to blow against the sensitive flesh.
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Rianna gave a little cry when he halted his teasing to gently suckle, drawing the puckered tip into his mouth and rolling his tongue over it. “Jhaan!” she moaned, arching into him. She felt the growing dampness between her legs as her control began to shatter. “You’re making me crazy!” “Shh, ni harai.” Deliberately he drew back. “There is no hurry.” One hand curved over her thigh and slid higher, caressing, exploring the length of her leg. Reaching the junction of her thighs, he brushed his fingers against the nest of soft curls. Rianna’s tension rose in an agony of suspense as he paused, drawing out the moment. Hooking her leg around one hard thigh, she pressed herself against his hand. Finally he spread the folds of her flesh to gently slide a finger into her moistened core. Arching against his hand, Rianna urged him on. As he slid a second finger in, she felt him reach out with his mind, knew he was following the rise of her pleasure, needing to know the extent of her excitement. Rianna moaned again, soon working her hips into the rhythm with his movements, reaching for her release, aching for it. Delicious pressure curled around her spine and swept through her as, without warning, her orgasm hit her. Pleasure washed over her in endless waves, sweeping her into a rapture of sensation. Gripping his shoulders, she anchored herself to his solid strength as she spiraled out of control before finally returning to her senses. Jhaan watched the beauty of Rianna’s release, the force of his own need almost overwhelming. The wildness of her passion was a heady aphrodisiac. Even the dimness of the night could not disguise the enchanting flush staining her cheeks, the flow of black silk cascading down her back. Jhaan covered her mouth with wild kisses as she continued to tremble, an occasional shiver of passion running through her small body. With reluctance, Jhaan slipped his hand from her clinging flesh. Holding her feverish gaze with his, he slowly raised his fingers to his lips, suckling first one digit, then the other, savoring her musky flavor on his tongue. “Put your legs around my waist.” His voice was rough as he freed himself from the tight confines of his trousers. Returning both hands to her thighs, he slid them up to cradle the full curves of her buttocks, holding her poised over his cock. She hesitated for an instant and fear
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gripped him, until she slid her legs around his waist, the firm muscles of her thighs tightening around him. His muscles tensed for an instant before he surged forward, driving himself into the molten heat of her sheath with one powerful thrust. Her responsive cry ended on a moan. He halted in sheer ecstasy, eyes closed, luxuriating in the perfection of their joining. Never had he felt the like. She was small and light in his arms, arching to offer him access to her breasts. Unable to resist her wordless demand, he buried his face between them as his body took her with long, powerful strokes, sweeping them both closer towards shattering fulfillment, straining toward that goal. Rianna thrust her hips to meet his, riding him as he sought to merge his soul with hers. “Open your mind to me, maarai. Completely. Let me know everything you are feeling.” His voice was hoarse, his hands gripping hard as he rocked her against him, careful with her tender flesh. Without hesitation, she dropped all inhibitions and threw wide her mind. Her desire washed over him as she shared that part of her few men could understand. It was impossible to tell where he left off and she began. She was a burning fever in his mind, touching him like no other being ever had, setting him on fire. Rianna’s cry was hoarse, her muscles clenching around him as her body and mind abruptly shattered into rapture, splintering into a million shards of pleasure. Her orgasm sent her tumbling over the edge of pure sensation, their link pulling him with her. Jhaan shuddered with the force of his own release, his own shout of satisfaction loud in the stillness of the night. For a long moment he couldn’t move. Jhaan held Rianna cradled against him, his face buried in her neck as they struggled to catch their breath. He felt her heart pounding in rhythm with his. The scent of their passion lingered in the air, mingling with the exotic smells surrounding them. Pulling back, Jhaan brushed her hair from her damp brow. She was everything to him. Staring down into her bemused eyes, he allowed his masculine satisfaction to shimmer between them. Touching her cheek, he studied her disheveled appearance, moving over her sated face, lingering on the swollen curve of her lips. “Are you all right?” he asked softly. “Slightly better than all right.” Her lashes lifted, revealing slumberous contentment. There was no mistaking the gleam of pleasure in their dark depths. She was beautiful.
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He knew she had courage and perseverance in abundance, but he still craved her undivided trust and faith. There was still some sense of doubt. He had yet to win her complete loyalty. With great reluctance, Jhaan separated his body from hers, his arms holding her secure against his heart as he smoothed her skirts down over her knees. Her gown was crushed beyond repair, stained with the lichen growing on the stone of the low wall and with the evidence of their passion. “You are so small to bring such pleasure to a man, maarai,” he murmured huskily into her hair. Turning his head, he pressed a gentle kiss to one ear, following the outer curves with the tip of his tongue to nibble at the tender lobe. Their link was still open and he felt her hesitation before she burrowed her face into the curve of his neck, winding her fingers tight into his hair. “How can I feel this way when I know I cannot trust you?” Jhaan felt the underlying confusion coloring her words as a myriad of emotions quivered through her. Doubt and a lingering suspicion surfaced for an instant before he felt her quell them, concealing them from him. His eyes closed against the sudden pain her whispered words ignited. They cut through him with the sharpness of a blade. “Perhaps because deep down you do trust me.” Tension gripped him as he waited for her response, resisting the urge to delve her thoughts, allowing her the privacy she needed. He held his breath when he felt the feather-light brush of her mind, knowing she was seeking reassurance. He immediately opened his mind, permitting her complete freedom, feeling the delicate touch of her scrutiny. He made no attempt to guard his thoughts, wanting her to feel his sense of possessiveness, the completeness that she alone provided. When she withdrew, she was silent for so long he feared she wasn’t going to answer. He almost missed her near inaudible response. “Perhaps.” His arms tightened at her admission, knowing what it cost her. He vowed to himself that he would always keep her safe. Rianna had become the most important thing in his life. Short as their time together had been, he could not conceive of a time when he had felt more alive and whole. She was his world, his other half, his psi-mate.
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The woman he had been searching for his entire life.
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Chapter Seventeen Conlan had waited long enough. He’d managed to suppress his instincts for much of the evening, but now it was time to approach the source of his fascination. He found Thea Chartier sitting in a small alcove, staring down at her hands. Her fingers were twisted in the folds of the fine material of her gown, creating a myriad of wrinkles. Conlan could feel her growing nervousness. He knew she’d sensed him earlier but didn’t know where the source of her unease originated from. Now he approached her with purpose, stopping just before her, waiting for her acknowledgement. Her gaze remained in her lap and the unwavering tension stretched his nerves taut to breaking. Finally, she appeared to take a grip on her courage, her gaze following the line of his closefitting breeches, up over his chest until her beautiful green eyes reached his face. His confidence wavered and he unconsciously brought himself to greater attention, straightening the already crisp lines of his dark blue uniform coat. He knew the instant she met his eyes, a fission of something indescribable leaped between them. A sense of recognition. As if she already knew him. He’d forced himself to keep his distance from Thea Chartier once the guests had retired to the salon. He had needed to control his splintered emotions before approaching the source of his fascination. He watched the way her black lashes rested against the flushed smoothness of her cheeks, their long length quivering as she fought to control her nervousness. Her timorous spirit aroused a protective streak within him that he would never have guessed existed. At the same time he could sense a spark of fire buried deep within her. It was a spark he had every intention of fanning into flame. “My Lady Thea, may I join you?” Tammar bowed, capturing and holding her deep green gaze with his own. With an effort he resurrected whatever charm he may have once possessed. His dealings with women on a personal basis had been few and far between.
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Her startled glance reminded him of the small chira, both rare and shy. He had not missed the way her eyes had traveled over him, that slow sweep of inspection before she raised them to meet his. He knew he was athletically fit, but for the first time he was self-conscious of his body. He hoped she wasn’t disappointed. Her consent was timid and he lost no time in taking a seat lest she change her mind and withdraw her permission. The instinct for the hunt was burning high in him and he feared alienating her by moving in with clumsy eagerness. The soldier in him urged immediate action while the hunter dictated caution. Tammar half turned until he faced Thea, one arm sliding along the back of the sofa, boxing her in. Errant strands of dark hair brushed against her smooth cheek as she once more dropped her eyes to concentrate on her linked fingers. Luxuriating in the ability to do so, unable to resist, Conlan sent out a feather-light probe. He had just touched on the beguiling skeins of her consciousness when he sensed her rising alarm. Quickly he withdrew, realizing Thea possessed an unusually high degree of psychic sensitivity to sense his light advance so quickly. Rare for one not of Dakar. Concentrating on emitting soothing waves, Conlan relaxed his tense muscles, aware that Thea Chartier was poised on the verge of flight. He had to prevent that at all costs. “How are you enjoying your visit to Dakar, my lady?” Thea glanced upward, her eyes darting to his dark face for an instant before returning to her lap once more. “Everyone has been very kind, Captain Tammar.” Her voice was a breathless thread of sound. Conlan leaned closer to catch her low words, breathing in her light floral perfume, relishing her underlying female scent. His passion sparked, a new sensation before today and he immersed himself in the rising tide of desire. He knew wooing Thea Chartier was going to be difficult. Tammar sensed a spirit that had been severely crushed in the past. Time and effort was going to be needed to resurrect her confidence in herself as a woman. Beyond the sexual aspect of their destined relationship, Thea’s importance to him was rising with each passing moment. She needed to be reminded that she was a beautiful woman, someone of value.
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Smiling inwardly, Tammar found himself looking forward to the task. “Dakar appears to be a lovely place. Although,” she ventured, “I have not really seen much other than the inside of the palace since our arrival.” “Permit me to show you something of Dakar City, Lady Thea. Our city holds many sights of fascination. We are a people of fine art and beautiful music as well as countless examples of natural beauty.” Cautioning himself not to push too hard, Conlan sat back, allowing her room to breathe. “Or if you prefer, I know of several nightclubs where there is dancing and socializing.” He would have to consult with his younger officers to discover the most popular night spots. Thea managed a slight smile, her eyes turning dreamy. “I’m not much of a dancer, Captain, but I would love to see more of your city.” “It would be my pleasure to escort you, my lady. May I meet you after the morning meal?” “I—yes,” she stuttered, her eyes wide with alarm, but he could feel her determination to rebel against her domineering brother. “Yes, I would like that, Captain.” Tammar was careful not to radiate his satisfaction. The opening salvo had been won.
Z His stumbling at a minimum, Saris A’Sarah’s entrance into Ilena Torane’s bedchamber was next to silent. Certain of his welcome, he didn’t bother to knock. In his present state, he was lucky to have found the correct room much less observe the necessities of announcing his presence. Shutting the door, he paused to sniff the air. The faint haze of smoke filling the room was different from the one Ilena preferred to use when they lay together. This one was sweeter, more eye-wateringly pungent. At times Saris felt unable to breathe when Ilena burned some of her potions. Combined with the strong perfume she favored, the result was overpowering. But that was part of the fascination she held for him. Catching sight of her where she sat before a mirrored preparation table, he watched as she ran a brush through the luxurious length of her long blonde hair. Her arms came up with languid grace, the movement pulling the silk of her dressing gown taut over the fullness of her breasts. Her eyes half shut, she breathed in the
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white smoke rising from the tiny brazier positioned on a cleared portion of the vanity. She looked like a pagan goddess, waiting for a mere mortal to pay homage to her beauty. Saris staggered to Ilena’s side. Caught up in her narcotic euphoria, she was unaware of his presence. His smile was lustful as he stared down at the expanse of pale flesh revealed where the dressing gown had slipped from one pale shoulder, as soft and smooth as the Turnisian silk enfolding it. Bending to press his lips to her warm neck, Saris slid his hands into the neck of her gown, caressing the fullness of one breast. He heard her sigh of pleasure before her arms dropped to allow the brush to clatter onto the table top. One hand went into his hair to press his face firmly into her flesh, her fingers burrowing roughly into the dark strands. “I knew you would come.” Her voice was husky, almost unrecognizable as she arched her throat to allow him further access, her eyes still closed. Saris’s lust soared as he captured one nipple between his fingers, pulling at the distended tip with growing hunger. Saris felt an odd buzzing in his ears. The drugged smoke mixed with the narcotics and spirits he had consumed earlier was making his head spin. Fondling her breast, he slid his other hand over her flat stomach to spread over the mound of her sex, pushing past the opening of her gown to find the perfumed flesh beneath. She was hot and moist as he dipped his hand between her already spread thighs, parting the folds of her sex to stroke her with familiar intimacy. His control slipped as his mouth lavished hot, wet kisses to her neck and shoulder. Ilena whimpered with growing hunger when she felt the intrusion of male fingers. She was burning up. She had been fantasizing about this moment all evening. Forgotten were the hateful words she had overheard in the garden. Gone was the humiliation she had suffered as Demitry sought to snuff any ambitions she had been entertaining concerning deCain. All that mattered right now was that gorgeous god of a man was in her room at last, making love to her as she had dreamed. Anticipated. Even now, she could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against her back as he rubbed his body against hers. Opening drugged eyes, she stared into the reflection of the mirror. It took her only a second to realize that this was not the man she had been fantasizing about, the man of her erotic dreams. Stiffening with outrage, she pulled away from him, leaping to her feet with a suddenness that
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nearly upset the glowing brazier, the white smoke billowing upward to cast a haze over the two of them. “How dare you enter my rooms without permission! Get out.” For an instant Saris stared, his expression stunned before his face hardened. Bloodshot eyes narrowed to ugly slits as he read the revulsion she made no effort to conceal. “Since when do you object to my coming to your rooms?” he gritted. “Who were you thinking of? Who were you responding to just now, if not me?” Roughly grabbing hold of her arms, he shook her until her head fell back on her slender neck. “You thought I was someone else, didn’t you? Didn’t you? You were thinking about deCain, weren’t you!” “Yes!” Pulling away, she smiled with deliberate malice, allowing a seductive light to enter her eyes, knowing it would infuriate him. “Compared to him you are nothing!” She made no effort to disguise her contempt, staring at him with a curl of her lips. She aimed where he was most vulnerable. His pride. “Who do you think you are? I’m the prince heir of a powerful world. Without me, you are nothing, Ilena. Little better than a whore.” “Then I had best start thinking of my future, shouldn’t I? After you marry the Zarian bitch—” He pushed her away from him and she staggered back a few steps before catching her balance. With difficulty she tried to clear her head of the narcotic smoke. She needed her wits about her to deal with this enraged Saris. She knew he considered her his property, but to her he was merely another step to power. Staring at him, she watched as he struggled for control. He drew a deep breath before his expression turned bland. Only the high color in his cheeks revealed his smoldering anger. “What makes you think the Dakarian would welcome you with open arms?” he asked. “Seems to me that deCain has other things on his mind.” “What do you mean?”
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“I’m talking about the fact that the Zarian slut and deCain are lovers. It’s obvious to anyone who isn’t pathetically blind,” he taunted. “While you were sniffing after him during dinner, the Dakarian couldn’t keep his eyes off Rianna Chartier. Or his hands for that matter. He didn’t leave her side for a moment, did he? Hovering over her, touching her whenever he had the opportunity. Don’t recall seeing him take any interest in you,” he added, catching her slight, almost imperceptible flinch. Ilena stared at him with a sense of contempt. Once she’d thought him the epitome of her accomplishments, the pinnacle of her ambitions. He had embodied everything she ever wanted. Vast wealth, power, success in the world of trade, an inventive lover. That was before. Now she felt little but scorn for him. The wealth he took for granted was at the cost of those less fortunate. The coarse character, skillfully concealed beneath the trappings of wealth was now laid bare. As far as success went, he traveled on the shirt tails of his more brilliant sire. Strip him of those embellishments and he was nothing. Little better than a parasite! He swayed and leaned back against the preparation table, his arms crossed in a show of nonchalance. His eyes were glazed. As usual he’d disregarded her warnings against mixing narcotics with alcohol. The man was a fool. Belatedly, she became aware of his heated stare. She pulled her dressing gown shut with trembling hands, unable to bear his leering eyes. His use to her had ended. As the intimate to the successor heir, his position had opened countless doors for her on Turnis. Although viewed as temporary, no one dared slight her while she held his regard. She had been satisfied with her position, garnering advantage while devising plans to make her station permanent. That had been before their arrival on Dakar. Even with the disclosures made by Demitry con Bruna earlier in the gardens, she could not shake the obsession for deCain from her fogged mind. In her experience, no man was faithful to only one woman. In the past it had taken only one sultry look or heated brush of her body and any such vaunted loyalty evaporated like so much mist. Fidelity was not a trait she set much store in. Who was to say con Bruna even spoke the truth? There was little doubt that the cousin was following an agenda of his own.
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Still, deCain had made his rejection of her humiliatingly plain. Ilena could not bring herself to believe that he preferred that virginal Zarian over her. She, whose past lovers had vied for her attentions with ruthless devotion, proclaiming endless adoration and showering her with expensive gifts, all to merely hold her regard. A lady of a powerful planet, rejected by a prince of a minor backwater. Once again she suffered the recollection of his scornful words. Raising a shaking hand to her head, she tried to marshal her thoughts. When it came to self-preservation, she was an expert. When one of her schemes proved fruitless, she invariably cut her losses and moved on. Why couldn’t she dismiss this provincial prince from her mind? Why was he growing so important to her? Her thoughts swirled, and she wondered if she had ingested too much of the willen drug. A mild hallucinogen designed to calm one’s nerves and enhance idle fantasy, it was also capable of causing wild illusions if one was not careful. “Rianna Chartier is nothing,” she hissed in venomous tones, shaking off her thoughts. “Doesn’t matter.” Prepared to counter his next argument, Ilena was caught off guard by his casual amusement, causing her to swallow her words. She stared at him for a short moment in silence, caution rearing its head. “What do you mean?” Saris’s smile revealed little. “When I returned to my room, I found a message waiting for me from Cayo.” He reached behind him and picked up her hairbrush, pulling at several golden strands trapped in its bristles. He twisted them in his fingers for a moment before dropping them to the floor. “Your hired assassin?” “The one and only.” The malicious grin widened. “The man is resourceful, I’ll grant him that. Persistent too. Apparently deCain managed to best him and he’s pissed. Seems deCain merely disabled him. Stupid hick didn’t bother to make certain my man was dead. Cayo managed to make his way here and is holed up just outside of Dakar City.”
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For a moment she stared at Saris, not really seeing him. What was it Demitry con Bruna had insinuated? That Jhaan had no interest in any woman other than a pre-destined mate? What happened if this mate was dead? She dwelled on the thought. Surely now that Jhaan had a taste of passion, he would be unwilling to forgo it again. Once Rianna Chartier was disposed of it would be a simple thing to provide comfort to Jhaan. No doubt he would turn to her. Perhaps Saris still had his uses.
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Chapter Eighteen Rianna closed her eyes to better savor the warmth of the sun on her face, raising one hand to stifle a yawn. For the moment it was simply enough to sit without a care in the world. She couldn’t think of the last time she had felt so tranquil. The gardens were deserted except for an elderly gardener some distance away. Formally laid out closer to the palace, the precise design of the gardens deteriorated the farther she ventured, until it dissolved into an appealing wildness. The many acadians sang a muted serenade that teased the edges of her consciousness. Even with her eyes closed, she could picture the trees rising tall and majestic within the gardens, reaching for the heavens. The sound of voices drawing near caused Rianna to open her eyes, reluctant to have her peace disturbed. Leaning back into the concealing foliage surrounding her bench, she peered at the couple strolling into her secluded corner of the garden. She immediately recognized Captain Tammar. Accompanying him was her aunt Thea, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. As Rianna watched, the captain’s other hand came up to cover her fingers in what appeared to be a possessive manner. Thea smiled at something he was saying. Her laughter rang out into the peace of the gardens, sweet and musical. She sat back, astonished, but kept them in her sights. She couldn’t recall a time when she’d seen her aunt so animated. In the company of the captain she was a different woman. As Rianna watched, Tammar’s hand brushed against the smoothness of her cheek, the intimacy obvious even from this distance. Knowing what little she did of the Dakarian male, Rianna was startled by the attention Captain Tammar was showing Thea. Unless… Rianna’s eyes widened. Was it possible? She peered across the distance separating them. While she couldn’t decipher the expression in his eyes, there was no mistaking the tender smile curving his hard mouth. He walked beside her diminutive aunt, stooping as much as his military www.samhainpublishing.com
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carriage would allow to catch her soft conversation, giving every evidence of undivided attention. Every gesture screamed of intimacy. A nearly soundless gasp escaped Rianna’s lips. Wrapped up as they were in each other, she knew there was no way they could have heard her, or for that matter, even be aware of her presence. Nevertheless, Captain Tammar stiffened, his head coming up to swing around unerringly toward Rianna. She felt the faint brush of his mind as his now hard eyes found her. He hesitated before inclining his head in respectful acknowledgment. Returning his attention to Thea Chartier, he directed her down another path, allowing Rianna her solitude while ensuring their own. Sitting back, Rianna blew out the breath she’d been holding, astonished. According to Jhaan, she possessed a strong psychic Talent, but it never occurred to her that other members of her family might have a similar ability. Turning this new revelation over in her head, Rianna was comforted with the knowledge that her aunt was much like her. She smiled as another thought occurred to her. If the intensity of Captain Tammar’s regard was any indication, her aunt would not be leaving Dakar with the rest of the Zarian contingency. With the return of her privacy, Rianna considered the unexpected path her life had taken. She’d been prepared to do her duty and marry the heir of the Turnisian kingdom to ensure peace between Salazar and Turnis. While the theory of combining the two great families was sound, Rianna wasn’t as optimistic as her father and uncle. Then, with a simple twist of fate, her life had taken a whole new direction. She knew she would never have known such contentment with Saris—or such ecstasy for that matter. Jhaan made her feel alive in ways she would never before have suspected. She had been somewhat satisfied with her previous life, but it had been the satisfaction of knowing no other way. Now that she had experienced a taste of that freedom, she found she liked it. Were she to remain on Dakar, she knew she wouldn’t be exchanging one prison for another. While the men of Dakar tended to be overly protective of their women, they did not appear to restrict them in any way. Dakar did not hesitate to utilize an individual’s Talent simply based on their gender. Jhaan had mentioned in passing that two members of his father’s cabinet were women, as well as several of his advisers. It was ability and talent that dictated one’s position, not sex.
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Besides the opportunities of making a difference to this society, there was also the freedom of her mind as she exercised and developed her newfound psychic abilities. While she’d been tracing the progress of the gardener with idle curiosity, Rianna realized she was unconsciously following the approach of a second presence. Closing her eyes she centered herself and narrowed her concentration, sending out a scan until she brushed against the consciousness. Her eyes rounded with surprise when she realized it was her uncle closing the distance between them. Now, through the peace of the gardens, she could hear the purposeful drumming of his step on the pavement, could distinguish his agitation. She stood to her feet as he rounded the curve. “There you are, girl!” Bertram Chartier all but pounced, his annoyance wafting through the air. “I’ve been searching for you all morning. These Dakarian savages are very uncooperative. I couldn’t get a straight answer out of anyone.” Rianna smoothed her hands over the fine material of her skirts, trying to still the trembling of her fingers. She’d been dreading this confrontation with her uncle—had been actively avoiding him. Realizing her cowardice, she stiffened her spine and raised her chin with an arrogance to match his own. Bertram Chartier was a bully who had dictated her entire life. She’d fought him in the past; she’d fight him now. If she were wed to Jhaan, her family no longer had any legal claim on her. Her loyalties now lay with Dakar. “As I didn’t know you were looking for me, Uncle, I couldn’t very well leave word of my whereabouts.” “Don’t talk sass to me, girl. Your conduct last night was disgraceful!” His direct attack silenced Rianna for an instant, her face flaming until she realized he was referring to her outburst during dinner rather than her disappearance into the gardens with Jhaan. “How dare you speak to me in such a disrespectful manner before these heathens!” “Heathens!” Rianna waved a hand about her, indicating the palace, the City of Dakar, the obvious modern surroundings. “Look around, Uncle. These people are no more heathens than you or I. It is through choice that they’ve forgone the sterile technology to protect the character and charm of their world. If you opened your eyes, you’d see that their use of modern conveniences are both subtle and sophisticated.”
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Bertram Chartier made a dismissing gesture. “As if that matters. We’ll be leaving within a few days. I’m to meet with King Ardon and his wife this afternoon to discuss the possibility of opening trade between Salazar and Dakar. Although why she has to be in attendance is beyond me. Whoever heard of a woman having any say in business? While I’m at it I will make the arrangements to get out of here. To think I have to gain permission from a woman to take my leave. Preposterous.” “Leaving! But—” “Your betrothal will be finalized upon our return to Turnis.” “But, Uncle Bertram—” “As soon as you are safely wed, your aunt and I will be returning to Salazar where we’ll once more be in the company of civilized people.” Drawing a deep breath, Rianna forced herself to relax. She could not put this off any longer. “What if I were to tell you that I am no longer willing to marry Saris A’Sarah?” “Nonsense. All of the arrangements are in place.” “Then unarrange them!” Astonishment held him silent only for an instant. “Listen, girl.” Bertram Chartier leaned forward in his most menacing manner, intimidation in every line of his body. “My brother—your father and our ruler—has entrusted me with these negotiations. I have never failed in anything my brother required of me. I am not about to start now. Is that clear?” “Uncle, will you please listen to me?” Rianna kept her voice low, determined to discuss this in a rational manner. “There are things about Saris’s character which are questionable.” “Rianna, maarai? Do you have need of me?” Jhaan’s gentle voice slid in on her roiling thoughts, his words so clear that she almost looked around for him. With an effort she controlled her expression even as she felt warmth spread throughout her. Just this light contact was enough to calm her. “No, I am fine,” she replied, even as she drew comfort from his concern. The brush of his mind calmed hers, his caress warm and intimate. “Now that I’ve spent more time in Saris’s company, I find myself questioning his character and honor.” “Do not talk nonsense, girl. He is your future husband.”
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“Does my opinion mean nothing?” Rianna inquired, cocking her head to one side, genuinely perplexed. “I have heard the rumors on Turnis, as I am sure you must have. The man is reputed to have numerous unsavory habits.” Bertram made a careless gesture. “Idle gossip. Nothing you need concern yourself with.” “Gossip?” Rianna repeated. “Is it gossip when there is evidence that the man is a user of illegal narcotics, a heavy drinker and a womanizer? Not to mention the rumors concerning his treatment of young, inexperienced girls.” “Where would you hear such talk? That is not proper knowledge for a young woman.” “Turnisian court, my dear uncle. The ladies took great pleasure in informing me of what was in store for me upon my marriage to the heir prince. At first I discounted their talk, thinking it idle gossip, if not spiteful jealousy. But I cannot discount the evidence of my own eyes.” She paused, looking for a hint of concern from her relative. Anything that might reveal genuine caring. “Nor can you, Uncle Bertram.” Bertram was silent for so long that Rianna felt a flutter of hope. Then his eyes hardened. “You are merely being foolish, girl! You will settle down once you are married.” Rianna stared at him with appalled disbelief, feeling something within her wither and die. He was dismissing everything she said. He couldn’t have made it more plain that it did not matter one way or the other that her prospective future was bleak. That her happiness and well being were low on his list of priorities. All he cared about was his precious negotiations! Her hands clenched at her sides as her anger began to burn. “Then I will be labeled a bigamist!” Even as she snarled out the words, she wanted to pull them back. “What did you say?” Rianna swallowed hard. When Bertram Chartier used that mild tone, it was well-advised to tread with care. She had seen him shred more than one adversary using that calm, almost mild voice. “I am already wed, Uncle.” Rianna hid her trembling by linking her hands behind her back, taking on the same calm tone as her uncle, keeping her expression serene with an effort. She was aware of Jhaan’s continued presence in her mind and drew strength from that fact. She could feel
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him nestled in a small corner at the back of her head, monitoring the interaction between her uncle and herself with growing concern. She reached out to him through their link, seeking reassurance. It was only then that she realized he had broken off his meeting with his father’s cabinet and was approaching the gardens. She read his intent to come to her aid, believing she was in need of support. “I was married to Jhaan san deCain two days ago in Dionne City.” “Don’t be a fool. Neither your father nor myself sanctioned this marriage. Without our consent it is invalid.” Rianna could see the effort Bertram made to control his expression. She could just imagine his thoughts. The plans she was thoroughly smashing. “As soon as we get off this miserable planet, I intend to have this so-called marriage annulled.” Her uncle’s words sent a spike of fear through Rianna. He would do it. She knew he would. The thought of losing Jhaan was unbearable. Whatever Magistrate deMallori had done the other night had changed her for all time. The very thought of leaving Dakar sent a shaft of pain through her. “The marriage has been consummated, Uncle.” Taking a deep breath, she continued in that same clinical, mild manner. She had to keep her emotions deeply buried. Any hint of weakness would be pounced upon and exploited. “What if I am with child? After all, my suitability to Turnis hinged in part on my fertility.” “That is a problem which can and will be disposed of.” Rianna paled, for a moment unable to breathe as she realized for the first time just how little value she truly possessed because of her sex. Never before had it been demonstrated so vividly that under Zarian law she was considered property, mere chattel to be disposed of, or in this case, married off to the highest bidder. Her lineage being her only value, her ability to marry well, to breed. She blinked several times, determined not to shed a single tear before her relative. Bertram would do anything within his power to dissolve this marriage. Reputation and profit was everything. She was left with little option.
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“Rianna, maarai—” “There will be no annulment, Uncle, nor will I be leaving Dakar.” Rianna spoke in quiet tones, revealing nothing of the effort it took to hold her shredded composure together. She knew she was hanging on to her control by her fingernails, feeling something, some tiny ember of hope, extinguish. Marshaling her resolve, she constructed a block to shut Jhaan out of her mind. She knew what she had to do. Drawing herself up to her full height she still had to tilt her head to meet her uncle’s gaze. “Hear me, Bertram Chartier, prime counselor and representative of the ruler of Salazar. I hereby revoke all claim to the royal family of Salazar.” Pain knifed through her as she solemnly severed all connection to her family, to her heritage, to her world. “Rianna, do not!” Jhaan’s words broke through the feeble block she had erected, sending shards of pain echoing through her mind. She immediately felt his soothing touch as he sought to remove the pain he had inadvertently caused her. Still, she did not hesitate. All her life, she had sought the love of her family, only to be disappointed time and again. It was only when she had grown to a woman that her value had risen with her potential to achieve a politically advantageous union. “I’ve never considered you a fool, Rianna.” Bertram stared down at her with cold eyes. “A stubborn thorn in my side, yes—but never a fool. Think very carefully on what you are doing. You will be an outsider without family or connections. You will be an alien on your own home planet.” “So be it, Bertram Chartier.” Rianna glanced behind him as Jhaan appeared, closing the distance with long, swift strides. Rianna searched beyond his cold expression and knew he was seething with outrage on her behalf. She could feel him reading every trace of her pain, taking it into himself as his own. It was in that moment Rianna realized just how much she loved Jhaan. How in such a short span of time, he had come to mean everything to her. She knew a sense of stunned amazement that he was as essential as the air she breathed, as necessary as life itself.
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Instinctively, she shut off that portion from his awareness. This knowledge was all too new for her to reveal it to him. She wanted to take out and examine this budding emotion before sharing her newfound emotion with him. There was a distinct lessening of her pain. Yes, she could build a new life for herself here on Dakar. “And know this, Bertram Chartier. You forced me into this decision. This is not of my choice.” Bertram followed the direction of her eyes, his face reddening as he watched the approach of the cause of his failure. Cold menace wafted from Jhaan as he came to a halt behind Rianna, his hands snaking out to curl over her shoulders in a protective manner. Every gesture screamed of possessiveness. The gaze he turned on Bertram Chartier was lethal as his mind reached for Rianna’s. She knew he was trying to determine the extent of her pain as he emitted waves of reassurance. Despite his care, she felt his disgust for Bertram Chartier. “As you wish, Lady—deCain,” Bertram Chartier ground out as he returned his cold gaze to his ex-niece, ignoring the man behind her. “I will convey your defection to my ruler. King Maleck will be informed that he no longer possesses a daughter.” “Possess is the operative word, Lord Chartier.” Rianna was careful not to refer to her uncle in a familial manner. “King Maleck viewed me as a possession. Never as a daughter.” She leaned back against Jhaan’s solid frame, drawing comfort from his silent support as she endured one last contemptuous glance from Bertram Chartier. She struggled to control her emotions, aware of Jhaan’s continued monitoring. Indifferent as her family had been, it was all she had ever known. She’d cut herself loose with Jhaan as her only anchor. Rianna waited until Bertram’s footsteps faded before she allowed her emotions free rein, turning her face into Jhaan’s chest. Jhaan wrapped strong arms around her, hugging her close as she wept, shaking with the strength of her loss. Despite her earlier bravado, she was now without a family or world. Without rank or position. She was lost. “You have me,” Jhaan said in quiet tones, his warmth echoing through the chaos of her thoughts. His mind was an oasis of calm to combat her turmoil. “You have Dakar. You have my family who will love you as their own.”
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Rianna raised her face from the sanctuary of Jhaan’s chest, knowing her eyes were reddened by her weeping, but not caring. Jhaan’s expression was tender as he ran his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the traces of her pain. For a moment she searched his face, seeking comfort, wanting to be convinced. “Will it be enough?” she asked. “You are my other half,” Jhaan said simply as he bent to press a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth, offering comfort rather than passion. “I would not have had you renounce your heritage in such a manner, Rianna, maarai.” “Is my position so important?” Her voice was still husky with her recent bout of weeping. Giving an inelegant sniffle, she buried her face against the warmth of his chest, careful not to probe his thoughts, a part of her fearing the wrong answer. She held her breath as she waited for his response. Warmth flooded her mind as he opened himself to her without hesitation. His reassurance flowed over her in a soothing wave, washing away any feeling of inadequacy with his unconditional support. “No, neither your heritage nor your family is important to me. It is what is inside of you, Rianna sana deCain, the woman that you are. I admire everything about you, maarai. The woman who is not only beautiful, but generous and kind as well.” Rianna read the sincerity behind his words, the residue of disgust he felt for her uncle as well as his willingness to do everything within his power to replace what she had just given up without hesitation. Interspersed with his gentle humor was a sense of pride for her stance and finally his relief over her wholehearted acceptance of their marriage. The smile she gave him was watery yet radiant as she felt her confidence return. She concentrated for a moment and brushed against his mind with a gentle caress. Jhaan’s eyes widened an instant before he caught her up in his arms, pressing her close as his mouth once more captured hers, kissing her breathless until the world spun around her in a kaleidoscope of rainbow colors. She would make this enough.
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Leaning back, she stared into his face for a long silent moment, then smiled, dredging up a measure of genuine amusement. “So, do I leave it to my one-time uncle to inform Saris A’Sarah that I will not be marrying him, or should I do it myself?” “You will not do so alone, Rianna.” He bent once more to brush his mouth against hers, before he released her with obvious reluctance. “Are you all right?” She nodded and he gave her a twisted smile. “I must return to my father and his cabinet, maarai. I left in…something of a hurry.” “Go. I’ll be fine.” “Please do not confront A’Sarah without me, Rianna. In his present condition the man is unstable, perhaps dangerous.” “All right.” A small part of her was relieved by the reprieve. Still, at some point Saris had to know her decision. She owed him that much. Cupping her cheek once more, Jhaan bent to kiss her before he took his leave. Rianna followed his progress back to the palace, holding the contact open until she knew he had once more resumed his duties. She lingered in his thoughts for another few moments until she was sure he was immersed in his meetings. Allowing herself another smile, she returned to her bench, her mind turning to the recent scene with her uncle. She was surprised to realize the pain wasn’t quite as sharp as she had expected. Yes, there was a sense of loss. Yet she knew she could not have acted differently. What was done, was done.
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Chapter Nineteen Aware that Jhaan was still maintaining their link, Rianna tried not to dwell on the recent scene with her uncle. Ex-uncle. She kept her regrets buried so as not to intrude on Jhaan’s concentration. One aspect of her life had closed, but another was opening. This new future promised unlimited opportunities, room to grow, room to develop. It was both frightening and exciting at the same time. Remembering Bertram’s remark about disposing of a possible child, she pressed her hands to her abdomen. Neither she nor Jhaan had taken any precautions to prevent such an event. She could be with child right now. Her heart melted at the thought of bearing Jhaan’s child, of giving birth to a little boy or girl with cinnamon hair and golden eyes. No child of hers would be ignored or unwanted. He or she would be left with no doubt of the love from either herself or their father. Smiling, Rianna lifted her face to the gentle breeze winnowing through the trees, her earlier peace recaptured. It was so tranquil here in the middle of this subtropical paradise, as if nothing terrible could touch her. Ugliness had no place here. She got to her feet. While she may no longer possess a position of rank in Zarian society, she could and would create a niche for herself here on Dakar. Turning her options over in her mind, she left the alcove to follow the stone path back to the palace. Immersed in her thoughts, she took little notice in the direction her aimless wandering was taking her. The path wound through a tangle of foliage until she wandered into a labyrinth of tall shrubs that blocked out the remaining daylight, casting the gardens into long shadows. A chill danced down her arms. She hesitated, realizing she stood a couple feet inside a maze. Glancing over her shoulder, she was about to return to the main path, but a furtive movement caught the corner of her eye. She turned to stare into the deep shadows pooling at the base of one massive hedge, certain she’d seen something.
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Nervousness swept over her as she realized the day had slipped away. She didn’t move, her gaze sliding from one shadow to the next in an effort to pierce the gloom. All was still. The only sound was that of evening creatures, chirruping insects vying with the occasional calls of avians as twilight began its descent. Everything appeared normal, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. A second chill chased its way up and down her spine as she backed into the maze, step by cautious step. Instinct had her peering into the deepest of shadows, finally picking out a darker shape. She frowned. She couldn’t see the figure clearly to identify who it was. She couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman, but unease fluttered through her. A sense of menace seemed to emanate from the person. The figure stood near the path she’d just traveled, cutting her off. She couldn’t go that way. Rianna halted her retreat, calling herself all sorts of a fool. She had an advantage she kept forgetting. Taking several deep, calming breaths, she centered herself, emptying her mind and casting out her consciousness. Fumbling, her mind roamed over her immediate surroundings, searching until she brushed against another presence. Narrowing her concentration, she circled it with caution, seeking a clue to guide her. A sense of menace heightened her nervousness, her concentration wavering for a few precious seconds. Determined, she steadied her focus, but the presence kept sliding from her inexperienced probe. Was she reading the figure correctly? Was it a he? She still couldn’t be sure. Those brief moments of success only fed her uneasiness. The impression of malevolence was strong, almost choking. Male or female? Friend or foe? She couldn’t tell. Keeping her eyes on the shadowy figure blocking her escape, Rianna resumed her slow backward retreat, careful to make no sound. Stopping just inside the labyrinth, she could see the path, waiting quietly while seconds lengthened into minutes and still she saw nothing. Yet some instinct held her motionless. Surely anyone with friendly intent would have come forward by now, shown themselves to her. At last her diligence was rewarded as the dark specter silently slid from his/her post and moved closer to the entrance of the maze. The fading light briefly reflected off a row of silver
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buttons running down one side of a tunic. Relaxing, Rianna sighed with relief. A palace guard. Jhaan must have assigned someone to keep an eye on her. Redirecting her efforts she gave up trying to hold on to that slippery connection, releasing it and sending her consciousness toward Jhaan. Carefully she skimmed his uppermost thoughts, finding him in a meeting with members of his father’s cabinet. Brushing against his mind with gentle insistence, she gained a portion of his attention even while he continued his discussions. “Rianna? What is it, maarai?” Rianna smiled with pleasure at this small success. At least in this she had no problems. “Assigning a guard to watch me was unnecessary.” She continued to watch the entrance of the maze where her guard was once more standing motionless. She could still feel the weight of his gaze upon her even though she knew she was partially concealed in the shadows. She sensed when Jhaan abruptly broke off his conversation in mid-sentence. There was a peculiar stilling sensation as Jhaan swung his full attention on her. “No one was assigned to watch you, Rianna.” She felt his concentration leave her to scan her immediate surroundings. Linked as she was to him, she was able to appreciate the skill he wielded as, without apparent effort, he split his consciousness. Unerringly, he picked up the figure even as the intruder suddenly moved, raising one arm before him. “Rianna, get out of there!” Shock held her immobile for an instant, startled by Jhaan’s imperious shout. Unlocking frozen muscles, she fell back as a flash of light came from the direction of the shadowy intruder, followed by the pinging whine of a discharging blaster. Throwing herself to one side she came up against the prickly branches of the tall bordering hedge and sank into its embrace. Burning pain sliced across her upper arm, and she bit back a cry as it dropped to her side, useless. Shock lasted only a heartbeat before she tore herself free of the clinging vegetation and fled deeper into the maze in a blind panic. Branches reached out to snag her clothes, delaying her as she yanked her skirts free, racing without thought or direction. “Rianna!”
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Jhaan’s mental shout spurred her on. Pushing her way along the hedge, she tried to block out the searing pain of her arm, keeping close to the concealing shadows. Her wild, thrashing flight must be giving her away. Rianna slowed down, glancing fearfully behind her and then, controlling her fear, she tried to concentrate on locating her assailant. At first she heard nothing past her own labored breathing, nothing out of the ordinary. She was aware that Jhaan had left the palace and was closing the distance between them, his mind firmly locked with hers to guide him to her. That knowledge enabled her to once again extend her fledgling Talent in an attempt to pinpoint her foe. “Rianna? Are you hurt?” She could hear Jhaan’s concern in the mental inquiry. “I can feel your pain.” “My arm. A minor burn.” She continued to sweep her surroundings. She had to find her attacker before he found her. “Hurts, but not crippling.” “He is in the next passage.” Rianna strained until she found the other presence. He was so close—too close. Moving with slow, deliberate care she eased herself in the opposite direction, her slippers making no sound on the shorn grass. Fear lent strength to her psi ability as she latched onto the mental waves emanating from the man, carefully keeping track of her assailant as she slipped down another passage. She could feel him searching for her, making as little sound as she, caution uppermost in his emotions. She dared not lose him now. Her stalker gave no thought to the possibility of discovery, confident that he had her trapped within the labyrinth. She had no doubt that this was Cayo. Somehow he had found his way to Dakar City. Rianna sent out a frantic cast, searching for Jhaan. She knew he was coming, could feel him closing the distance. Little emotion could be felt through their link, only a lethal deadliness intermixed with fear for her safety. He had rallied several guards with his headlong dash from the palace, positioning his men to cut off all possible escape routes. The assassin would not be allowed to slip away again. Rianna dropped her concentration back to her stalker, fumbling for a moment before finding him. He was almost upon her. Sudden fear made her clumsy and she dropped the Trace.
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A glance upward confirmed that the sky was still lit by the sun, but that light wouldn’t last much longer. The maze was growing steadily darker, the path she was following narrower than the previous one. Rianna hesitated as she turned a corner and had to choose one of two paths. She was afraid of coming to a dead end. No, don’t think of dead anything. She chose the right branch, darting down the narrow path, her steps silent on the thick lawn. A brush of sound on the other side of the thick hedge caused her to halt, freezing into the absolute immobility of a small creature sensing a predator. Cautiously extending her senses, Rianna was horrified to realize that the killer was standing directly on the other side of the wall of vegetation. He stood motionless, listening for any movement Only the thick barrier of vegetation separated her from certain death. The fragile hedge would offer no protection from a blaster should he discover her presence and fire. The slightest movement would give her away. Rianna wrapped her arms around herself, huddling down in an effort to make herself a smaller target. She dared not breathe as she strained to catch any hint of movement. An eternity passed before she heard the faint rustle of cloth brushing against cloth and the soft sound of his step moving off down the passage, away from where she crouched. “Rianna, take the next right fork.” She felt Jhaan’s brush of reassurance and was heartened to realize he was so close. She sensed he and his men were entering the maze, fanning out to dart down several avenues. Without question, Rianna did as instructed, finding this passage narrower still, the thick branches brushing against both her arms. The path wound, and she lost all sense of direction, certain she was looping back the way she’d come. “Take another right at the next junction, maarai.” Jhaan was careful to keep contact with Rianna as he fed her directions, making certain she was continuously heading away from her stalker. She was almost at the center of the maze where several of his most trusted men were already stationed. They would guard her until the assassin
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was captured. Reassuring himself that she was safe, he dropped their link to concentrate his full attention on the man he was stalking. On silent feet he navigated the maze, his steps unhesitating as he wound his way through the many twists and turns. He had grown up playing in this labyrinth, knew every square meter of it. With ruthless purpose, he locked onto the man’s surface emotions even as he prepared an illusion. He would only unleash it if the killer managed to stumble across Rianna before she was safe. Designed to disable, Jhaan added a few nasty twists. The purpose in Cayo’s mind left little doubt of his intent. The man’s only thought was to fulfill his contract and collect his remaining payment. Jhaan didn’t dare take the time to delve any deeper for further information. The effort could cause him to lose control of the illusion he held. There would be time enough later to conduct a thorough interrogation on the man. When his wife was safe. For his own peace of mind, Jhaan once more reached out for her, aware that pain and fatigue was uppermost in her mind as she stumbled into the center of the maze. For an instant she froze with terror when she spied the half-dozen men waiting for her. Without thought, she began to fall back. “They are my men, Rianna. You’ll be safe with them.” Feeling her fear recede, Jhaan fought down his burning fury, then forced himself to shut out her emotions as he concentrated on the assassin. How had the man eluded the search parties? Captain Tammar’s best men and trackers were scouring the countryside for him. He should not have been able to reach Dakar City, much less gain access to the palace grounds. Unless— Was someone on the inside aiding him? Not impossible and it would explain much. But who? It would have to be someone powerful enough to mask the man’s alien brain pattern, someone who had a motive. His cousin’s name surfaced, but Jhaan dismissed it almost immediately. Demitry did not possess the necessary strength to carry out such a plan. The testing and training during their adolescence had revealed his cousin to be of negligible Talent. Certainly nowhere near the strength needed to accomplish such a masquerade.
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And then there was motive. Demitry may have had visions of ruling, but even if Jhaan hadn’t located his psi mate, his lack of Talent would have made his assention to the throne questionable. In the past Demitry had been offered posts commensurate with his talents, but had declined each position. Jhaan could not believe that Demitry was so cold-blooded as to assist in an assassination of Jhaan’s psi-mate, knowing Rianna’s demise was without a doubt Jhaan’s own death sentence. Leaving the succession open once more. The thought formed on its own volition. Jhaan’s mouth hardened as he thrust the thought away. He had to concentrate. Resisting the urge to re-establish his contact with Rianna, he stalked his quarry, shadowing Cayo on silent feet. He paused only long enough to first form, then release a particularly strong shaft of menace toward him. With ruthless satisfaction he followed its path to the man, knowing the instant his projectile found its mark. The effect was immediate as Cayo halted, his emotions betraying sudden agitation before he shook off the compulsion with impatience and continued his hunt. Jhaan’s eyes narrowed. The man possessed an inordinate high tolerance if he was able to ignore that first wave. Sending another narrow stream of unease towards him, Jhaan held it open, building the tension until the man stopped once more and swung around in an attempt to locate the source of his anxiety. The degree of his Trace was borderline illegal, but Jhaan didn’t hesitate. The life of his psi-mate was at stake. Without mercy, Jhaan increased the pressure. A whimper of fear escaped Cayo’s lips as he wildly twisted, trying to locate the threat he felt certain was approaching. Jhaan held the pressure steady, closing his eyes to intensify his concentration. At the edge of his consciousness he was aware of his men closing in on the assassin. “Who’s there?” Cayo shouted, his voice shrill. “Show yourself!” “I want him taken alive,” Jhaan instructed the half-dozen guards as they converged on the assassin. He tied off the probe, confident that the man’s own paranoia would continue to feed his fears. He sensed when the guards swept around the final corners of the tall hedges and surrounded the killer. By now Cayo was huddled on the ground, his arms wrapped around his
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head as he shrank from the threats flying at him, both imagined and real. His moans of fear traveled in the mostly silent labyrinth. Taking this moment to touch on his link with Rianna, Jhaan reassured himself she was now safe with his guards at the center of the maze, her arm being tended. The wound was superficial, he was relieved to discover before he allowed himself the luxury of sending her a caressing brush with his mind. The return of pulsating warmth distracted him for a moment as he savored the intimacy of the sensation. A sudden shout snapped his concentration and brought his head around. Breaking into a run, he raced towards the group of men standing at a safe distance from the wretch still crouched on the ground. With an unexpected movement, Cayo jerked to his feet, his action clumsy and uncoordinated. As Jhaan appeared, he swung around, the blaster he held wavering in his unsteady grip. He heard Demitry give a warning cry as his cousin simultaneously aimed his own weapon and fired. The force of the blow struck the assassin and flung him backwards into the wall of hedge, the prickly branches holding him upward for several seconds before he slid to the grass, dead. There was a moment of stunned silence. “Damn you, Demitry! I wanted him alive,” Jhaan roared his fury as he neared. His cousin was crouched beside the body, his back blocking Jhaan’s view. His face expressionless, Demitry rose to his feet, extending the killer’s weapon. “He would have fired on us had I not taken him down, Jhaan. His blaster was primed to kill.” Jhaan stared at his cousin for several long moments, not bothering to probe for the truth behind his words. Weak as he was, Demitry still possessed enough strength to block any mental sweep. Cayo couldn’t have stopped shaking long enough to steady his weapon. The degree of panic Jhaan had built in him ensured that the man was almost incapable of moving, much less aiming and firing a weapon. Looking down at the dead man, Jhaan noticed that although he wore the uniform of a palace guard, it was not one of the elite guards. There were several avenues a resourceful man could have taken to procure such attire. He would exhaust all other avenues before concentrating on the possibility that his cousin was involved. He could do nothing without proof. As it was, he was left with a dead assassin and no way to extract answers.
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Chapter Twenty “What’s happening?” Rianna tried to peer around the five burly men boxing her in. “How do we get out of here?” Silence. “How long do we have to wait?” Still nothing. Rianna crossed her arms over her chest, one foot beginning to tap with impatience. Each of her questions had been met with silence. Her link with Jhaan only gave her an impression of intense concentration. He was somehow shielding his thoughts from her, making it impossible to know what he was doing. She drummed her fingers against her crossed arms with ill-concealed irritation. For a brief moment she wondered at the effectiveness of issuing a direct order. Would they ignore that as well? Before she could issue one, she heard the whine of a blaster firing some distance away. Fear for Jhaan held her immobile for an instant before she swung around to stare into the night, a sense of helplessness welling up. All was quiet. Even the night wind chose that moment to die, leaving a deafening silence as she strained her ears for a sound, any sound. Her bodyguards tightened their ring around her, closing in to form a protective shield. “Jhaan!” She sent out a mental call, waiting for him to answer, but received only silence. The probe she cast brushed against numerous minds within the labyrinth but none of them possessed that special recognition she shared with Jhaan. Apprehension made her clumsy, causing her concentration to slip before she finally brushed against the consciousness she sought, a beacon she instantly identified. Her relief was immense until she tried to merge with him and found herself blocked.
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He was denying her access. For a moment she battered at the shield he erected, her initial panic dissolving into irritation as her determination grew. Closing her eyes she centered herself and cast out a narrow probe, scanning, searching the blankness surrounding Jhaan’s block. She found nothing. His shield was smooth, impenetrable. Frustrated, she withdrew, fuming. Time crawled past. It seemed she waited forever until at last she felt a familiar brush against her mind. “Rianna, maarai?” The query was intimate, caressing. Her mind leaped to his. “I couldn’t reach you.” Try as she would, Rianna could not keep her hurt from coloring her thoughts. “I am sorry, ni harai, I could not allow any distraction.” “I heard a blaster go off.” Jhaan hesitated a second, just long enough to arouse her conviction that he was concealing something from her. “Demitry fired on the assassin, killing him instantly. He claims the man was about to fire upon us.” “And you doubt this.” She was getting to know him now. Could hear the disbelief in his tone. “I don’t know what to think.” “Can’t you—you know—read his thoughts or something?” She felt Jhaan’s grim amusement even before he answered. “No, maarai. Psychically Demitry is weak, nearly null, but he is still strong enough to block any such probe. It would be a waste of time and effort. Besides, I have only my suspicions.” “Humph. I haven’t seen that stopping you.” Again she felt the brush of his amusement as he turned his full attention towards her, his distraction fading. “Not the same, ni harai. You are my psi-mate. There is no you or I. There is only us.” “That isn’t what I felt five minutes ago when you blocked me.” Impatience thrummed through Rianna as she watched the gap in the hedges where she knew Jhaan would appear. She could feel him drawing near, until, with little warning, he was there, striding through the gap with all the arrogant confidence he possessed.
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He looked wonderful! With relief, she pushed through the burly men blocking her and dashed towards him. His stride never slowed as she flung herself into his arms. Jhaan caught Rianna up, his concern vibrating through their link. Pulling back slightly, he pulled at her torn sleeve, inspecting the bandage that peeked through. “I’m fine, Jhaan. It was merely a scratch.” She’d say anything to take that savage gleam from his eyes. “I could have lost you.” Strong arms wrapped around her, hugging her against the hard expanse of his chest. Even with his face buried in her hair, she heard his muffled words. “I have just found you, Rianna. I could not bear to lose you.” His voice dropped lower yet as he pressed his mouth against her throat. He raised his face, his expression tormented. “Know this, maarai, I would not long survive your passing.” “Don’t talk that way.” “It is true. One rarely survives the loss of a psi-mate.” “But you’ve known me for so short a time.” Briefly the thought crossed her mind to wonder what would happen to her should she lose him? Would she follow him shortly to death? “That makes no difference. You are my psi-mate, Rianna.” Touched, she brushed a lock of cinnamon hair from his brow, searching his beautiful face with new awareness. Slowly it dawned on her that he spoke the truth. The knowledge that his death could result in her own should have frightened her, yet it didn’t. Instead, for the first time, she knew she would never again be alone. Jhaan was her other half. The part of her that had been missing from her life. Tearing his eyes away from her bemused face, Jhaan directed his attention to the guards standing at attention only a short distance away. His expression hardened with new menace. “Where is Captain Tammar?” he barked out in Dakarian, fury making his voice harsh. Within the perimeters of the palace Rianna should have been safe. Instead, he had come so close to losing her. His insides clenched with renewed torment. His men stiffened to greater attention, straightening already straight spines. The sole guard wearing a golden braid on his shoulder raised his chin, eyes focused straight ahead as he answered. “He has not yet been located, my prince.”
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“Find him! Now!” “Jhaan.” He watched his men depart before he brought his attention back to Rianna. Although the shadows had deepened, there was still enough light to see her face. “Please, don’t blame the captain.” “He should never have left you unprotected.” “I saw Captain Tammar earlier in the main gardens. Just before I met with my…with Lord Chartier.” She bit her lip as she corrected herself. “He was with Thea.” “Your aunt?” For a moment Jhaan was startled. In all the years he had known Conlan Tammar, he had never known the man to neglect his duties. The captain was dedicated, his loyalty without question. “I thought… He was very attentive to Aunt…to Thea. I thought, perhaps, she was his psimate.” Jhaan stared down at her, stunned as the gist of her words pierced his wrath. He frowned, recalling Conlan’s peculiar behavior the previous evening. He had been too busy warding off the Turnisian woman to do more than note the man’s distraction. Yes, it was possible. Even feasible. “Am I wrong?” “I think you are correct. That would explain much, maarai. Having located his psi-mate, a man doesn’t think with his mind, but rather his—” “Jhaan!” Laughing aloud, Jhaan caught her up in his arms, his hold secure. Ignoring her squeak of protest, he turned and left the center of the labyrinth, his strides confident and sure as he negotiated the maze. As they reached the outskirts, Rianna squirmed, her hands pushing at his shoulders. “Put me down, you big oaf! There are people waiting in the gardens. I will not be toted about like a parcel.” “How many people are waiting?” Rianna closed her eyes as she concentrated. “Six close by. Another half-dozen scattered throughout the garden.”
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“You’re getting stronger.” Rianna looked startled. Then a smile of pleasure lit her face. “I am, aren’t I?” Jhaan took her hand in his as he escorted her from the maze. The group of people spread across the entrance of the labyrinth turned anxious faces toward the pair exiting the hedges. His parents stood at the steps leading into the palace. Captain Tammar was present along with Thea Chartier. Rianna’s aunt was wringing her hands, halting only when Tammar covered them in a comforting gesture. Jhaan’s lingering doubts about Tammar were put to rest by his expression as he looked down at Thea. Spotting the third pair, Jhaan narrowed his eyes. Saris A’Sarah was arguing with the woman at his side, his face flushed with anger. Ilena Torane made a dismissive gesture, her attention honing in on Jhaan. With a little cry, she tore herself away from Saris to race across the shorn expanse of lawn towards them. Jhaan slipped Rianna behind him in an unconsciously protective motion. “You’re safe,” Ilena cried, tears welling up in her eyes, her arms outstretched. Without hesitation, Jhaan’s hands came up to catch the blonde woman by her upper arms, effectively halting her headlong dash. “Please excuse us, Doma Torane.” His tone was cold and dismissive as he released her and reached for Rianna’s hand once more. “Rianna has been injured and requires prompt attention.” Ignoring the stunned expression on the woman’s face, he led Rianna around her and continued on towards the waiting group.
“Put you in your place, didn’t he?” Saris said as he reached Ilena’s side, satisfaction coloring his tone. “Rather firmly, I would say.” He watched as her jaw dropped. She’d probably never been so thoroughly dismissed by a man. He savored her humiliation for another minute before he turned to watch the fuss being made over the Chartier woman. His mood turned sour as she was surrounded in a protective circle and hustled towards the palace. Grasping Ilena’s arm, he forced her to wait near the entrance of the maze, his thoughts ricocheting in a dozen different directions. Whatever Ilena had given him this morning swept
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much of the haziness he’d been plagued with of late. A haziness that had begun the day they landed on this mudball. For once his mind felt clear and sharp. Something had gone wrong with his paid assassin. Rianna Chartier should not have emerged from that labyrinth alive. His dark eyes narrowed with menace. This was the second time Cayo had failed him. Astronomically expensive, his value was dropping by the moment. Deep within the shadows something moved, drawing his attention once more to the entrance of the maze. The apparition manifested itself into Demitry con Bruna as the man strode into the open. Saris’s mouth curved into a sneer. The man changed with the wind. Last night he had faded into the background, self-effacing in the company of his relations. It had been positively embarrassing to watch. Now he strutted with all the arrogance of a ruler. “I told you that was a fool plan, Turnis,” Demitry remarked, his eyes watchful and guarded as he fingered his holstered blaster. “Your assassin is dead.” “Dead! Are you certain?” “Very. I am the one who killed him.” For an instant Saris was stunned into silence before fury escaped his grasp. “You lackwit! Cayo was a professional. An artist!” “Your ‘professional’ was cowering on his knees, minutes from being taken by my cousin.” Demitry’s tone snapped across Saris with undisguised contempt. It took him seconds to see Saris was again under the influence of narcotics. Demitry narrowed his concentration to sharpen the man’s thoughts. Having A’Sarah in a drug-induced stupor was convenient for much of the time, but right now he needed him coherent. Besides, it was amusing to practice his skills of manipulation. The opportunity to experiment was so rare. “Once in my cousin’s hands, your man would have revealed everything. Everything! Your involvement, my involvement. He would have left nothing out.” “Impossible! Cayo would never have spilled his guts.” “I assure you, any man—or woman—can be made to talk when at the mercy of a Dakarian.”
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Ruthless pleasure made him smile. It was so simple to delve into the thoughts of these primitives. They were so transparent it was barely worth the effort. Saris’s mind was a chaotic mixture of paranoia and imagined slights liberally sprinkled with dark and unsavory intentions. The brew was further stirred by the narcotics he had ingested, spiced with alcohol until any probe came away stomach-lurchingly tainted. The woman was far more obvious. Her thoughts remained centered on his cousin, almost to the exclusion of all else. He didn’t need to delve her mind to know her regard was already obsessive. Progressing nicely. Demitry’s thoughts turned malicious as he lightly enhanced her mania with subtle psychic prods and nudges. Shaking his head over the futility of the woman’s attraction, he motioned his two cohorts closer. They might want different things, but their temporary association was proving beneficial. Demitry was careful to scan their surroundings to ensure no one remained to observe this meeting. While palace guards were still within the labyrinth, removing Cayo’s body, there was no one nearby. As an added precaution he masked their presence. He was leaving nothing to chance. “We must come up with a foolproof plan, Turnis. One that cannot be traced back to us.” Throughout the brief duration of their association, Demitry had been careful to insinuate he wanted the Chartier woman dead, offering vague explanations of her inappropriate relationship with his cousin. He had firmed that belief, playing on A’Sarah’s so-called Society and upon the Turnisian woman’s obsession to have her rival removed. It was so simple. Child’s play. With the removal of Rianna, he would achieve his objective in one fell swoop. All the while making it unnecessary to sully his own hands with the deed. He pulled the strings of his puppets, and they danced when he wanted them to, where he wanted them to. He needed only to continue playing on the Turnisian heir’s psychotic paranoia and the woman’s lust. Building them with care, enhancing both at various intervals until their crazes reached a peak. Now, all he had to do was sit back and enjoy the results.
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Chapter Twenty-One Captain Tammar strode through the deserted palace corridors, impatience eating at him with every step. It was late. Most of the servants had already retired for the evening. The cell lights were turned low, throwing the corridors into shadows, the quiet infusing the night with a sense of intimacy. He had spent much of the day with Thea, enjoying her company. Hours were spent talking, neither noticing when the afternoon waned into evening, which in turn descended into full night. He was amazed by her knowledge and dry wit. He felt both honored and humbled that she shared this side of her character with him. He suspected few other people were allowed such an intimacy. As well, her insights into the character of her traveling companions gleaned during her stay on Turnis were invaluable. Thea may have been considered a nonentity to the Turnisian court, but she was a sharp and observant witness to many of the underlying machinations practiced by the courtiers. She confirmed the existence of an almost fanatical organization aligned against the peace treaties between Turnis and Salazar. What Tammar hadn’t realized was the extent of the organization’s reach into the highest families of the court. Thea had mingled with these people for several peri-cycles, her subconscious picking up on and besieged with a wide spectrum of emotions ranging from mere annoyance to rabid fanaticism. It was no wonder she’d been repelled by the Turnisian court. The hour was late when he finally escorted her to her rooms, talking in hushed tones as they traveled through the hallways. Tammar had been reluctant to end this evening until Thea’s fatigue penetrated his absorption, leaving him chagrined over his neglect. After he caught himself staring at her closed door, with what was probably a foolish smile, he finally stirred himself to return to his duties. Examining various missives received from his trackers, he was dismayed to realize the information he had been waiting for had arrived earlier, sitting on his desk for much of the day, ignored. 202
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Without delay he deciphered its contents, giving a grunt of satisfaction before leaving his offices to seek out his prince. The information received could not wait until morning. Mindful of Prince Jhaan’s recent union, Tammar transmitted a psi warning of his approach as he neared the royal apartments. He noted with approval the two guards stationed outside the double doors leading to the suite. Both men were half hidden in the shadows, their stillness masking much of their presence. Acknowledging them, Tammar entered the large sitting chamber, halting in the middle of the room, eyes trained on the closed inner doors. His wait was short. They swung open on silent hinges and Jhaan stepped out clad only in a pair of dark trousers. Tammar did not miss the lingering residue of passion uppermost on the crest of his friend’s emotions and tactfully schooled his expression to reveal nothing of his observations. “I trust my timing was not…unfortunate,” Tammar said as he bowed to Prince Jhaan, watching as the man shut the doors behind him with silent care. Jhaan sent him a roguish grin. “Not at all. Rianna is asleep.” “I apologize for disturbing you at such a late hour, Jhaan, but I’m certain you would wish to hear the news I received.” “Come.” Jhaan gestured for Tammar to follow him to the far end of the sitting room. Pausing at an ornate table to select a decanter filled with ousza, he held it up to Tammar, brows raised. Tammar accepted with a wave of his hand. Without bothering to ignite any cell-lights save for the one positioned over the liquor table, Jhaan poured out two generous portions of the potent liquor. The faint illumination created a hushed intimacy in the depths of the night. “Proceed.” “My trackers have located the third assassin on the moon of Rondon.” Tammar accepted the crystal glass containing the pale green liquor. “His name is Macklin Resh. A preliminary probe revealed little other than confirmation that the man killed in the maze was called Cayo. Evidently he was the leader and not very trusting. He kept his companions virtually ignorant of their assignment. Resh’s role was very minor in the attack on Princess Rianna.” “He must know something.”
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Tammar nodded. “He is being transported to Dakar even as we speak. Once here a more indepth scan will be conducted. I’ve already sent a message to Healer Glassow, requesting his services. If Resh knows anything, we will find it.” He hesitated, swirling his untouched ousza in the crystal glass. “After taking Resh into custody, my men made discreet inquiries of the innkeeper where he resided and at several of the nearby drinking establishments where he was known to frequent. Each proprietor said that over the past few days Resh had been displaying growing paranoid behavior. There was mention by more than one tavern keep of madness.” Jhaan sampled his drink as his thoughts flashed back on that moment in the forests of Dionne when he had originally planted that illusion of fear in Resh’s mind. He had not bothered to tie off the wave, preferring to allow the man’s personal paranoia to build to a level where he was willing to flee Dakar rather than wait for the return of his companions. It had been light enough that it should have dissipated. Was it possible that the man’s own fears and phobias had continued to feed on it until it developed into a full blown psychosis? Jhaan turned this over in his mind, staring off into space. Unlikely, yet not impossible. Dismissing his musings, Jhaan returned his attention to Tammar. “Healer Glassow is the right choice for Resh’s examination. Well done, Captain. Right now, this Macklin Resh is our only lead. These men were merely the hired thugs. I want the man funding these attacks, Conlan, without fail.” He paused an instant. “No matter who he may be or how high he may stand. Is that understood?” Tammar bowed again, bringing his right arm up over his chest in a formal salute. “At your command, my prince.” Jhaan remained in the sitting room long after Tammar’s departure, sipping his drink while his mind continued to mull over these new facts, sparse as they were. On the surface, they were still without a clue as to the who and the why. He hoped Resh had seen or heard something that his subconscious retained, allowing Healer Glassow to locate and extract the information they sought. Few Dakarians surpassed Glassow in strength and delicacy of touch. When it came to matters of the mind, Glassow had few equals.
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Jhaan ran one tired hand over the back of his neck, his frustration mounting. Why would anyone wish to harm Rianna? She assured him that she was unaware of any enemies, nor had she garnered the ill will of anyone. Although her family had enemies, harming her would not emotionally cripple either her father or uncle. Some might risk all to halt the negotiations between Salazar and Turnis. Numerous worlds stood to profit if Salazar and Turnis failed to join forces. The question was: who had the most to gain? Jhaan stared off in the deep shadows of the room before he absently set his drink down on the table. No Dakarian would harm a woman, whatever the provocation, and the only strangers at present on Dakar were her family and erstwhile fiancé and his party. While they could not be discounted, there was little reason for any of them to harm her. Nor could this secret faction be ignored. From all accounts there appeared to be a minor branch of this Society on Turnis bent on keeping the bloodline of the ruling family “pure”, free of the pollutants introduced by the marriage to a reviled Zarian. According to what Thea Chartier told Tammar, sentiments ran deep in both a portion of the general population, right up to members of court. It was a disquieting thought. Jhaan assumed Saris A’Sarah was behind the attacks, but he needed proof, evidence. It would be impolitic to alienate Turnis on the grounds of unfounded suspicions. Soft arms stole around his naked waist and a warm body pressed against his back. His skin recognized Rianna’s touch. He’d been so absorbed in his thoughts, he’d missed her entering the room. Mischievous fingers trailed down the center of his chest to the band of his trousers, tracing this barrier with a featherlike touch. “Rianna.” He felt a fission of shock. He should have been able to feel her presence through their link. “Getting pretty good at this, aren’t I?” She rubbed her cheek against his back as she chuckled with satisfaction. Her fingers dipped lower to toy with the fastening of his trousers, and he almost groaned as she ran teasing fingers over his erection.
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Capturing her hand, Jhaan turned until he faced her, burying his fingers in the heavy sweep of her hair. “Rianna, you are not to block me.” “Oh? How come?” Looking down at her, he felt a stab of fear. Until these assassins were uncovered, her safety lay in his ability to track her at any given time. Closing his eyes to concentrate, he examined the lingering residual of her block before it faded completely. Its strength was impressive, but the construction was unusual, unlike any he had previously seen. “You may inadvertently endanger yourself.” Rianna pulled back to look into his face. “How so?” “Until the danger is passed, I must be able to contact you at all times. Any block can render you invisible to me.” “Despite evidence to the contrary, I’m not completely helpless.” She slanted him an inscrutable look. “I do have the means of taking care of myself. Maybe not against a blaster, but one on one I’m fairly skilled in self-defense.” “Nevertheless, I forbid you to block against me.” “You forbid it?” she repeated the words softly. A spark of battle appeared in her eyes. “I have news for you, Jhaan san deCain. Trying to forbid a woman to do anything is a surefire way to get her to do the opposite.” She put up a hand when he would have continued. “I understand the need, I truly do, but after battling the past twenty-three cycles with my family, trying to remain my own person, it’s difficult to mindlessly obey what amounts to an arbitrary order.” He closed his eyes for a moment. Her importance to him went far beyond his ability to link with her. Without her he would be lost; her existence was as necessary to him as breathing. Something deep within him feared that she did not share his growing love. “Rianna, please…” “Give me a little credit. I’m not about to do anything stupid. I’m tasting real freedom for the first time in my life. I’m feeling my way through unfamiliar territory, learning a whole new skill.
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Wouldn’t it be wiser for me to experiment? See exactly how well I could defend myself mentally?” “Not at the cost of endangering yourself.” “I have to learn control, what my scope of strength is.” “Until this is over and you are safe, I will have your obedience.” “Thank you for your faith in my intelligence.” “This argument is going nowhere.” Without giving her warning, he framed her face between his palms and captured her gaze. Deliberately banishing any guilt over what he was about to do, he sharpened the intensity of his concentration. Holding her gaze in a mesmerizing snare, he watched as her eyes widened with alarm before losing focus. Despite her growing strength, he was able to capture her mind with ease. “Rianna, until this danger to you is passed, you are to make no attempt to block me.” His voice was low, harsher than he might have wished, but he had to impart the urgency of his order. He had to have her unquestioning compliance in this. “I must be able to reach you at all times.” “But—” Holding their link open, he knew the instant she realized the full extent of his command, felt her instinctive resistance to this complete surrender of control, even to him. He forced himself to harden his resolve, unwilling to allow his love for her to dissuade him. “I will have your obedience in this, maarai. With force if need be.” He imposed his will upon her, his mind sending out a binding wave of reinforcement. He constructed the command to dissipate with time, hopefully after the danger to her had passed. He knew when she pushed against the binding, tentatively testing its strength. Her sense of shock was followed by a quiver of hurt. Through their link he felt her focus inward, examining the strength and scope of his command. When she tried to throw together a block he knew it faded even before it was formed, dissolving like a morning mist, unable to hold its shape. “What have you done?” “I’ve taken steps to ensure your safety.”
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Startled, she searched his face with disbelief. The distress was swiftly replaced with outrage and finally by the heat of fury. With an effort he kept his expression remote, knowing she was realizing the full extent of his Talent, the force of which made a mockery of her fledgling attempts. It pained him to show her just how weak she actually was, negating any progress she might have been making. A combination of humiliation and hurt trembled through her as she withdrew, putting a physical and mental distance between them. Astonishment cut through his detached emotions as she retreated down the length of their link, effectively shutting him out. “As you wish, Your Highness.” Twisting free of his loosened hold, Rianna swept into a formal curtsy before she favored him with a look of utter disdain. Turning on bare feet, she stalked into the bed chamber, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoing throughout the silence of the apartments was followed by the snap of the lock being turned. Jhaan flinched, then sighed as he ran his hand over the back of his neck. He had completely fouled up. Something solid thumped against the door, and he winced again. No, he had not handled that right at all. Moving to the door, he tested the handle. “Rianna, open the door.” “Get lost, Jhaan!” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. It would not take much to gain entrance to his rooms but he knew she would not be receptive to his presence just now. He glanced around the sitting room, his eyes settling on a sofa near the cold fireplace. “Rianna. You’re being foolish.” “So now I am foolish, am I? Your trust in me is very reassuring.” Her voice was muffled through the thickness of the door. He felt it when she allowed every nasty thought to float to the surface of her mind, knowing it was deliberate. “Rianna…” “Never mind. It’s apparent that you think I am a brainless little twit who doesn’t know what is best for her. I must have a big strong man tell me what to do.” Another object hit the door. “A request would have sufficed, Jhaan. A simple explanation. You didn’t need to force my obedience in such a manner.” Her voice faded as she moved away from the door. “Good night. Let me know when you are ready to leave the Age of Darkness and return to the present.”
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Trying to explain his reasoning to her was out of the question. Jhaan approached the sofa, eyeing it without enthusiasm before stretching out on its uncomfortably short length. Somehow, he suspected that he was going to get little sleep tonight. He had not handled this well at all.
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Chapter Twenty-Two Jhaan stood at the wide expanse of windows, watching his wife as she froze motionless in a complex pose, then flowed with seamless grace into the next position. He was captivated. Her lithe movements were indescribable, effortlessly controlled as she danced from one form to the next. Earlier she had told him that mi kai was a skill which drew upon the energies of both the body and the mind to harmonize the two. It was as much a cerebral exercise as it was a physical one. Leaping into the air with feline grace, she twisted her body to land on one foot, the other leg outstretched, poised horizontal to the shorn lawn. She held that position for an instant before leaping into a second, more complicated maneuver. She had started out with slow deliberation, her motions growing swifter with each new position. Briefly, Jhaan’s eyes left her to mark the presence of the two guards assigned to watch her at all times. After the attempt on her life the previous day he was taking no more chances with her safety. Satisfied with their attentiveness, he turned away to resume his meetings with his court advisers. They were shoving as much information down his throat as possible, intent on bringing him up to date on the events of the past two cycles with admirable zeal, and in excruciating detail. For a moment, he stared unseeing at the reports littering the heavy dark desk, mentally monitoring Rianna’s continued presence just outside his offices. He suspected that her practicing her art within his sight was her way of showing him that she did possess skills in self-defense. Something he’d been unwilling to listen to last night. He fully admitted that his actions were arbitrary but he wasn’t taking any chances with her safety. After spending an uncomfortable night on the sofa, he had risen early this morning. A quick check of the bedroom door showed it was still locked. Rianna was not going to forgive him anytime soon.
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Forcing his attention to his advisers, Jhaan reluctantly released their link. As he listened to the reports, he prowled over the brightly hued area rugs, their jewel colors relieving the brooding atmosphere caused by the dark furnishings. Later he would figure a way how to regain her trust. Later. Rianna knew when Jhaan’s attention left her. In a graceful motion, she stretched into a new position, holding it for several long seconds, before releasing it and contorting into another. Konen had taught her the Sibir method of mi kai as a form of exercise, exhorting its multilayered benefits. The precise forms encouraged balance and grace, while at the same time training the body in the art of self-defense. Konen had told Rianna that this form of self-defense was ancient, its history shrouded in mystery. The career soldier had trained in this art from the time he was a young man stationed on Sibir. “Concentrate, Rianna. Sense the music,” Konen would tell her as he demonstrated the forms. “Feel the blood race through your veins. Allow the air to flow through you, not around you. Absorb it, make it a part of you.” Rianna closed her eyes as she spun into a whirling kick, her body almost horizontal with the ground before landing lightly on her feet once more. She wondered if her latent psi ability had enabled her to master mi kai in so short a time. Konen had been astonished at the speed in which she had learned a skill it had taken him decades to master. It came to her as naturally as breathing. With the emergence of her psi Talent, for the first time she fully understood the tenants of mi kai. Tune herself to the forces of nature, encompass those energies and channel it through her movements. Never before had she worked the forms with such ease. It invigorated her, a sensation she joyfully embraced. It also took her mind off the emotions still roiling within. They ranged from fury at Jhaan’s highhanded actions to hurt that he didn’t deem her intelligent enough to discuss his fears. She’d spent a good portion of the remaining night examining and trying to puncture the compulsion he’d forced on her. Even now she could still feel it lingering at the back of her mind. Like a spider, waiting. When this was all over, he’d better remove it or she’d be practicing a few of her self-defense forms on him.
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Her concentration wavered for an instant as she felt the light brush of Jhaan’s Trace and knew that he was reassuring himself of her well being. She had experienced several such sensations all morning. Deliberately she projected blistering displeasure and felt his hasty retreat. With an effort, she recaptured her focus, and began the final series of movements, each more complicated than the last. Perspiration gleamed on her skin, yet she controlled her breathing with ease. At last she came to a halt, holding the final pose for endless seconds before allowing herself to relax. The light breeze flowed over her, evaporating the fine sheen covering her body. Focusing on the cloudless sky, she was pleased to note that her heart rate was even, not labored. A slight sound brought her attention to the two guards hovering nearby. Her concentration had been so complete that she had forgotten their presence. Their appreciative regard made her suddenly self-conscious. “It is your skill they are admiring, maarai.” Rianna glanced up at the balcony where Jhaan stood, his hands braced on the low wall as he watched her. He made no effort to conceal his pride. “Watching your motions is like watching the wind dance with a feather. A study in grace.” Despite herself, she warmed under his praise. Her lips started to curve upward, but she dismissed the smile as she bent to pick up a towel to blot the sweat from her face. “Rianna!” At the sound of her name, she looked toward the woman stepping through the glass doors at the far end of the balcony. Thea Chartier approached with a new confidence, her face shining with purpose as she drew near. Rianna rather liked this new Thea Chartier. As she drew near, Rianna saw the troubled light in her eyes, a frown drawing her brows together. “I just spoke with Bertram.” Halting beside Rianna she darted a glance at her guards. Taking Rianna’s arm, she drew her to one side, at the same time lowering her voice. “He tells me that you’ve renounced your family.”
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Drawing a deep breath, Rianna let it out on a silent sigh. Regret pierced her soul, catching her by surprise. Firmly, she quashed it. “I was left with no choice, Thea.” She was careful not to refer to her aunt in the familial manner. Renouncing one member of her family meant relinquishing all. Thea withdrew her hand from Rianna’s arm, uncertainty again furrowing her brow. “Bertram can be so domineering, Rianna, you know that. Whatever he said, I’m sure he regrets it.” “Does he? I doubt it.” Rianna was aware that Jhaan had maintained their open link, ready to lend his support should she need it. With a quick glance at the balcony she wordlessly requested privacy. She waited until he returned to his meetings before returning her attention to Thea. “Did he tell you what precipitated our rift?” “No, but I’m sure—” “Nothing you can say will change what has occurred, Thea. Some things cannot be undone.” Rianna hugged her arms around her body, running her hands over her arms, feeling a slight chill. She felt uncomfortable, not knowing what to say. The arrival of a servant claimed her attention and she turned toward him with some relief. Considerably younger than most of the servants, the boy carefully balanced a silver tray in both hands as he carefully watched where he placed his feet so as not to upset its contents. He started with visible fear when he came under the hard focus of her guards. Being the center of so much attention unnerved the boy to the point where the tray tilted at a precarious angle. “Stop frightening the child.” Rianna chided her escorts as she retrieved the tilting tray from the boy. Offering him an encouraging smile, she righted the platter just in time to prevent the single goblet from sliding off its gleaming surface. “I was told to give this to the foreign princess.” His words were breathless, so heavily accented that Rianna had a hard time understanding them. “To you and no one else.” “Who sent it?” “Trooper deMorray said it was sent by Queen Janae.” He bowed several times before his shyness overcame him and he turned to scamper off. Rianna was left holding the tray, looking at the goblet sitting in solitary splendor in its center
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with chagrin. It looked like it held khai. She made a slight face. A hot drink was the last thing she wanted right now. “Rianna. I am certain that when we return to Turnis my brother can be made to see sense…” Thea trailed off even as Rianna began shaking her head in denial. “I will not be returning to Turnis. I will not be marrying Saris, nor will I return to Salazar.” “Then where—?” “I will be remaining here on Dakar.” Glancing around, she set the tray on the low step leading up to the balcony. Needing to do something with her hands, she retained possession of the goblet, staring down into the cloudy amber liquid as she swirled its contents, focusing on her next words. She looked up to meet Thea’s troubled eyes. “With Jhaan.” Rianna followed the direction of Thea’s thoughts with ease as both her expression and emotions underwent several rapid changes before the final emergence of shock. “Has that man compromised you, child?” she sputtered as color came to her cheeks. “Is that why Bertram is so furious?” Rianna was already smiling before Thea finished her nearly incoherent sentence. “Yes, Thea, he has thoroughly compromised me.” Before Thea could express her outrage, Rianna held up her free hand, her smile growing in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Right after he married me.” “What!” The stunned expression on the other woman’s face was almost comical. “I was wed to Jhaan three days ago, Thea.” “But—you did not have the permission of your father…” Thea’s face was blank with shock. “Has it been…” “Yes, Thea. It has been consummated.” Giving Thea time to absorb her words, Rianna absently lifted the goblet to her lips, taking a sip of the khai before the heat of the drink hit her tongue. Making a face she glanced around for the tray, depositing the nearly untouched cup back onto its surface. Taking Thea’s hands in hers, she squeezed her aunt’s fingers. “I am very happy with this marriage, Thea. What is done, is done. There is no going back.”
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Z The summons Jhaan had expected all day finally arrived shortly before the evening meal. He wrapped up his meetings, then made his way through the main floor of the palace, his set expression discouraging conversation with those he passed. In minutes he entered the lower level, the cold, brightly lit hallways a stark contrast with the warmth of the upper areas. Walls and floor of an unrelieved white, the long corridor was broken by numerous doors that led to laboratories, interrogation rooms and storage spaces. Here below the palace, the technology of the universe was fully utilized. It didn’t take him long to locate the interrogation room holding Macklin Resh. The sound of the man’s sporadic shouts of defiance interspersed with screams of terror were audible for some distance. Jhaan turned a corner and found two of Tammar’s men stationed outside the room. Distaste emanated from them despite the tight hold they had on their emotions. Both men snapped to attention at his appearance, saluting him before one man turned to push open the door. The muffled sounds rose in volume to a series of shouted obscenities and threats. Jhaan strode into the brightly lit room, the door closing silently behind him. It was a small room, furnished with little save a bank of computers and equipment occupying one wall while a simple metal desk and a few tables comprised the rest of the furnishings. Shock held Jhaan just inside the door. He acknowledged the two men standing over the seated Macklin Resh. Fastened to a chair in the center of the room, Jhaan scarcely recognized the man he had encountered outside Dionne less than a week earlier. Resh was covered with filth of every description, his hair matted while the rest of him appeared to be caked with mud, blood and vomit. His eyes were wild in his emaciated face as he attempted to keep the other occupants under surveillance at all times. His voice was hoarse as he first garbled out his innocence then begged for mercy. The smell emanating from him was vile. Jhaan’s appearance captured Resh’s attention, halting him in mid-sentence. The man stared at him with open horror before his eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted dead away, only the chair straps holding him upright.
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“Now that was a curious reaction,” Captain Tammar commented under his breath as he moved to join Jhaan, his eyes never leaving the slumped man. “We were just considering having the man hosed down before continuing.” “It might help.” Jhaan waved one hand ineffectively in front of his face. “This is a full blown psychosis, Tammar.” Forcing himself to move closer to the motionless man, Jhaan peered into his ravaged face. “This is not the result of a brief probe gone awry. This is a prolonged exposure to a psi illusion.” “I agree.” Jhaan glanced at the man just beyond Resh. Healer Glassow was leaning against one of the tables pushed against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Macklin Resh’s mind is a mess, Your Highness. There is no doubt there has been extensive tampering.” His angular face was drawn into deep lines of fatigue as he studied the prisoner, his eyes dark with compassion. With a tired sigh, he straightened and approached the chair. Standing behind Resh, he eased him upright, angling the man’s head back with gentle hands. Placing his fingers along either side of the unconscious man’s temples, he closed his eyes as he dropped into a deep concentration. Jhaan could feel the strong brush of the psychic waves emanating from the healer and stepped away to avoid disturbing him. Signaling Tammar to join him, he stepped into the corridor. Crossing to the opposite side of the hallway, he motioned the guards to leave the door open. It might help dissipate some of the stench. “How long has Healer Glassow been working on Resh?” Jhaan kept his voice low as he watched the process through the open door. The healer stood motionless, his muscles locked in place even as his face tightened with the building strain, perspiration beading his forehead. “Since his arrival over two hours ago. Resh seems to calm down during the probes, but each time the healer takes a break, he reverts to the psychotic behavior you just witnessed.” Jhaan sighed with quiet frustration. If a man of Glassow’s ability was unable to break through the psychosis in two hours, there was little hope in accomplishing much more. “Has he been able to unravel anything?”
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Tammar shook his head, grimacing with distaste. “The healer has been trying to repair the man’s mind before attempting an indepth delve. I wouldn’t count on learning anything from the man, Jhaan. As Glassow says, his mind is a mess. He was telling me just before your arrival that Resh’s mind had been thoroughly tampered with. Possibly beyond help.” “We’re talking about another Dakarian, Conlan.” The captain nodded his agreement. “No other being could have accomplished this damage in so short a time. It had to be another Dakarian. One of considerable strength.” He motioned one of his men to his side. “Get me a list of names of all off-planet Dakarians. I also want a full report from the trackers who apprehended Resh. I will need a detailed accounting of Resh’s recent activities.” “What was done to this man is a vile crime, Your Highness.” Jhaan turned as the healer joined them in the corridor. Glassow’s face was drawn as he rubbed his fingers against the white material of his tunic in an unconscious manner of distaste. The action left a mark of blood and filth on the once pristine cloth. “Resh is dead, Your Highness,” he reported, his voice quiet. “His enhanced terror caused his heart to fail.” “Were you able to locate the source?” “No.” Glassow raised his arms to run his fingers through the silver of his hair, weariness in every line of his face. “Resh’s mind was too chaotic to follow any one path. He had been programmed to view anyone of Dakar as evil incarnate, you in particular, Your Highness. This was done by someone of great strength—someone who knew exactly what he was doing.” “That should narrow down the list of suspects.” Tammar motioned to the remaining guard. “While there are a number of people with the strength capable of this type of tampering, most will have an alibi. With your permission I will get right on this.” Jhaan waved his dismissal, watching as the captain departed. Frustration ate at his insides. He turned back to the healer to find the man watching him with those tired dark eyes. “Why go to all this trouble, Glassow? Why not just kill the man outright if they wanted to prevent him from revealing anything?” Healer Glassow shook his head. “Perhaps whoever did this was unsure whether Resh even knew anything. All I can say, Your Highness, is that what was done to his mind goes against
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everything we of Dakar have ever been taught. Although I personally do not advocate Fi-irling under most circumstances, this vile act would warrant it.” Jhaan stared through the open door at the still form of Macklin Resh for a long moment, his thoughts troubled. He was no closer to ensuring Rianna’s safety now than he had been when he first met her.
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Chapter Twenty-Three The evening meal was conducted in near silence. Rianna could feel the subtle emotions riding the air currents like a living entity. Her glance flickered over her dining companions, wondering if she was the only one aware of the heightened tension. Occasional conversation punctuated with bouts of silence were the only indication of distraction. King Ardon had been called away just before dinner began, leaving the task of keeping what little conversation flowing to the queen. Neither Jhaan, nor the captain had made an appearance yet. Pushing her dinner around on her plate with idle interest, Rianna returned to her own thoughts. Despite her continued pique, she reached out toward Jhaan along their link for reassurance, but was once again met with a blankness. It was the absence of his infrequent mind brushes that alerted her that he had somehow muffled their link. She got impressions of frustration and anger, but little else. This heightened her frustration—and her determination. If their bond was as strong as he claimed, there had to be a way to access their link. She had only to find it. Her attempts to circumvent the binding he had imposed on her mind were futile so far. Ridding herself of that compulsion was fast growing into a matter of pride. Bertram Chartier’s laughter captured her attention for a brief moment. So far he had refused to address her. What little conversation he’d initiated during this meal was directed at everyone save Rianna. Thea had even less to say during the course of the dinner, seemingly mired in her own thoughts. The remaining diners at the table also appeared preoccupied. Saris looked to be in his usual narcotic-induced stupor while Ilena’s gaze made a continuous circuit of the other occupants. Rianna wasn’t certain if it was her imagination, but the woman’s glance seemed to rest on her more often than not. The calculation in those blue depths vied with a gleam of malice that unnerved Rianna as the evening progressed. Tempted as she was to probe the woman’s thoughts, Rianna contented herself with a light skimming of Ilena’s surface emotions, finding a mixture of www.samhainpublishing.com
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sensations ranging from amusement to sexual anticipation. Just the brief glimpse she touched on was gut-wrenching. The only occupant of the table who appeared to be at his ease was the Turnisian diplomat. Perrin Soltaine gave every appearance of enjoying the various and numerous dishes being served as he carried the bulk of the conversation with Queen Janae. Rianna would have thought him clueless had she not noted the sharp, assessing glances he swept around the table at various intervals. At the meal’s conclusion, Bertram Chartier placed his eating utensils side by side with decisive precision before lifting the cloth napkin to his mouth. Rianna saw his eyes linger on her for a brief instant before he turned to Queen Janae. “Your Majesty, on behalf of the Zarian ruling family, I wish to thank you for your hospitality.” “The Zarian ruling family is always welcome to Dakar, my Lord Chartier.” “I regret that we must beg leave to depart on the morn, Your Majesty. My party will be returning to Turnis.” From the look on his face, Rianna suspected he wasn’t looking forward to the return to Turnis. He had a lot of explaining to do to Toras A’Sarah as to why she wasn’t marrying his son. Across the table, Thea stirred, hesitated before she set down her utensil in a decisive manner. “I will not be accompanying you, Bertram.” Her words were soft, but firm. “It is my choice to remain here on Dakar.” “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you are returning to Salazar.” “No, Bertram, I am not. Maleck has little use for me. I will be staying here with Rianna.” “You will be returning with us, Thea.” Bertram’s annoyed frown turned thunderous. Rianna glanced at Thea. She sat straight and proud, her chin tilted at an angle of confidence she’d never displayed before. Saris seemed to emerge from his fog long enough to pick up the thread of the conversation. “Rianna will need family with her now that she is married to Jhaan.”
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“Uh, Thea…” Too late Rianna realized the direction the conversation had taken. While touched by Thea’s loyalty, she would have much preferred this discussion to take place in a more private setting. “I don’t think…” To Rianna’s astonishment, she felt a light brush of affection. Instantly she knew it wasn’t from Jhaan, but from Thea, the first time Rianna had felt any hint of Thea’s psi ability. “Married!” Ilena’s voice sounded loud in the momentary silence. “That’s…that’s impossible.” Rianna snuck a glance at Saris. He’d been staring vacantly into his wine glass, giving no sign of having heard. Without warning, his head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes pinning her unerringly as rage swept over his face. Something in his expression froze Rianna. The wave of malevolence coming from him made her stomach clench with a fight or flight reaction. “Is this some sort of joke, Chartier?” He surged to his feet with a roar, the sudden movement sending his chair crashing backward to the floor. “I will not be made a fool of, Salazar!” “Saris…” Rianna had no idea what she would have said, but the emotions that came her way gave way to uncontrollable rage. It had to be the drugs in his system. They’d triggered an almost psychotic reaction. “Were we brought to this backwater mudball under false pretenses? Was this planned all along?” The strength of his fury caused him to sway on his feet as if seized by dizziness. With Saris the center of attention, no one took notice of Demitry. Without hesitation he took advantage of this unexpected episode, directing his psi Talent to enhance the Turnisian prince’s mounting rage with delicate care until it boiled into a cauldron of emotions, every one of them violent. Despite the danger of exposure, this opportunity was too good to pass up. Somewhat clumsy in his haste, he pitched Saris’s fury ever higher. “Prince Saris…” Bertram began in his most consolatory tones, rising to his feet to confront the infuriated Turnisian. “Was this planned from the start, you lying bastard? Was this all a smokescreen to buy time while the trade contracts were exchanged and finalized?”
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For the first time in his life Bertram appeared to be speechless. Rianna knew he couldn’t deny that numerous lucrative contracts had already been signed and delivered with the expectation that the marriage would take place. Neither government had wished to waste time waiting for the actual ceremony to finalize the deals. “This was not planned, Prince Saris,” Rianna told him as she stood. She swayed for an instant as a strange dizziness swept over her, but she shook off the brief vertigo. Now was not the time to succumb to nerves. She moved to stand beside Bertram Chartier. This close, Saris’s fury was even greater. It came to her in waves. The man was almost out of control. “My marriage to Prince Jhaan was unexpected.” Saris’s face contorted into something unrecognizable as he rounded on her, thrusting an accusing finger in her direction. “You! You were bought and paid for, you unfaithful slut! How dare you lower yourself to consort with a backwater barbarian while you were betrothed to me!” The malevolence emanating from the man caused Rianna to reel as her senses absorbed the full blast of his violent emotions. Belatedly, she realized just how unstable he was, how potentially dangerous. In his narcotic haze, nothing remained of the indolent young man she had met such a short time ago. This creature was explosive. Almost beyond reason. “The betrothal was never finalized.” She had to defuse this situation. Opening her consciousness, she tried to use her fledgling Talent to send a wave of calm to soothe his violent emotions. The filaments of her waves tangled with the turbulent skeins of his emotions, threatening to ensnare her. With an effort, she steadied her nerves, careful to avoid the trap of psychic overload. Suddenly she frowned, sensing something unusual blanketing Saris’s emotions. Fumbling in her inexperience, she attempted to identify the phenomenon but it kept slipping away. “We were never formally engaged, Prince Saris.” “Had I known you would spread your legs so easily, I would have taken you peri-cycles ago, you cheating whore!” Saris closed on her in a menacing manner, his face twisted into something ugly. “Rianna! Get away from him!”
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The sudden re-establishment of her link with Jhaan left Rianna too shocked to react. Instinctively she ducked when Saris lashed out, his backhand blow catching her full across the face and sending her colliding backwards into the still-laden dining table. She crashed onto the smooth surface, dishes and glassware shattering in all directions before she slid to the carpet amid a cascade of upturned dishes. Numbness spread across one side of her face and she felt her hold on consciousness slipping. A melee of shouts erupted around her, muffled by the blood pounding in her ears. Above the din she felt more than heard Jhaan’s roar of fury as her vision faded in and out. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she pushed herself up on her hands and knees, looking upward in time to see both Jhaan and Captain Tammar at the door. With an expression of violence, Jhaan closed on Saris A’Sarah, his face stiff with concentration. Rianna could feel the psychic power rising within him until the pressure threatened to burst the restraints he held on himself. Without warning A’Sarah’s advance on Rianna halted, the fury in his face dissolving into an expression of such horror that she cried out. His hands went to his head and his face contorted into a mask of agony. A gurgle of sound emerged from his throat as he stiffened. Clutching his head, he gave a wordless shriek before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground, senseless.
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Chapter Twenty-Four No one moved, too stunned to react. Then pandemonium broke loose. Ilena Torane gave a piercing scream before rushing to the fallen man. Her face was deathly white as she dropped to her knees, fear gnawing at her as she felt for a pulse. It was as good as a death sentence for her if the Turnisian heir died with her narcotics in his system. She almost sobbed with relief when she found a pulse beating erratically under her fingers. Bertram Chartier was bellowing out useless orders to which no one paid the slightest heed while the rest of the guests sat frozen in their seat. Thea leapt to her feet and hurried to Rianna’s side, catching her in a protective embrace. Queen Janae maintained control as she ordered a servant to locate Healer Glassow without delay. Her eyes were worried as she met her son’s gaze. Jhaan’s face was bleak as he gave her a short nod before moving to Rianna’s side. Gentle hands pulled her from the shelter of Thea’s arms and into the warmth of his embrace. Although his arms were tender, Rianna could still feel the remnants of his fury shimmering at the edge of her consciousness. Lifting heavy lashes, she met the worried gaze of her husband. Without effort, she sensed the renewed rage flooding his emotions as he carefully examined the left side of her face. Her jaw throbbed in time with her heartbeats, and she could feel a thin trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth where the force of the blow had driven her lip into her teeth. A low moan escaped her as a new wave of pain swept over her. Heedless of the liquid seeping into his clothes, Jhaan knelt amid the spilled food and shattered dishes, cradling her close. The ringing in her ears was slow to recede as was the dizziness. A second moan escaped as she closed her eyes against the pain. Without opening her eyes, she lifted one hand to cup Jhaan’s tight jaw, forcing a smile to her aching mouth.
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“I am all right, Jhaan.” Resting back against his solid support, Rianna opened her eyes, looking around until she found Saris, still sprawled where he had fallen. Her view was partially blocked by Ilena as the woman continued to hover over him. Everything had happened so fast. Bertram still stood by his chair while the Turnisian diplomat was only now coming around the far end of the table. Taking Ilena by the shoulders, Soltaine shoved her to one side with rough disregard as he checked Saris’s condition. Ilena was ignored where she fell, her beautiful face looking haggard as she sat in a puddle of spilled wine. There was a haunted look in her eyes as she silently stared at the fallen man. Then a soft hiccup turned into a sob until she began to weep. Demitry’s expression was triumphant as he stalked over to where his cousin knelt. The malevolence in his face made Rianna recoil into the solid warmth of Jhaan’s chest. “You have committed a crime against all Dakar, Prince Jhaan!” Demitry declared in ringing tones, making no effort to lower his voice. “Your actions are punishable by Fi-irling.” “Silence, Demitry!” Queen Janae pinned her husband’s cousin with hard eyes, her frigid tone demanding and expecting instant obedience. Rianna felt her reinforce the order with a psi command of such power that the other man was momentarily silenced. “The Turnisian prince has apparently suffered a seizure of some sort,” she announced to the room in general. “We must do nothing until the healer arrives.” “But…” “You are commanded to be silent!” Captain Tammar moved to stand behind Demitry. He did nothing to mask his menace. Soltaine straightened, his face drawn into lines of worry. “Prince Saris lives, Your Majesty, but his pulse is weak and thready. You say there is a healer on the way?” “He is coming.” Although her words were for the Turnisian, Janae’s steely eyes never left Demitry’s face. The room fell into silence, unbroken save for the continued sobbing of Ilena. Rianna tried to sit up as a tall, distinguished-looking man entered the room with two assistants close on his heels. This must be Healer Glassow. He made a quick survey of the room, his eyes resting first on Rianna before traveling on to the unconscious form of Saris A’Sarah. He started towards Rianna but she waved him away.
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“I am fine, Healer. Please, see to the Turnisian prince.” Glassow hesitated before turning his attention to Saris. “What does Demitry mean?” Watching the healer kneel at Saris’s side, she accessed her link with Jhaan. The Turnisian prince was so pale, looking like a broken doll tossed aside with careless disregard. She couldn’t see any movement of his chest, no sign that he was even breathing. Glassow set his satchel down and extracted several conventionally used diagnostic tools. Rianna felt the brush of something almost imperceptible against her consciousness, realizing that the healer was using his psi Talent to examine Saris rather than relying solely on mechanical methods. Rianna watched him, fascinated. “He meant nothing.” Even though his words were calm, his arms tightened around her. “I used my psi ability to stop Saris from harming you.” Something in his tone brought Rianna’s attention back to him, twisting around to search his closed expression. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her head, Rianna skimmed his surface thoughts, finding little to cause concern, which heightened her alarm. She sensed that Jhaan was censoring his thoughts. This strengthened her determination to find out what was going on. After a moment, she both felt and heard his sigh as he continued with obvious reluctance. “If the Turnisian heir dies as a result of my attack, my crime is tantamount to murder.” There was little inflection in his words as he kept his attention on Glassow, watching him work on A’Sarah. For an instant she was silent as the full scope of his words penetrated her scattered thoughts. “No!” Rianna’s involuntary cry drew the attention of several of the room’s occupants. Ignoring them, she searched his expression with rising fear but he was avoiding her glance, his face set in hard lines. “Shhh, maarai.” “There were extenuating circumstances. The man was dangerously unbalanced. He could have killed me.” “The circumstances don’t matter, Rianna. On Dakar there is no greater crime than to use your psi abilities to kill.”
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Rianna felt renewed fear rise from the pit of her stomach, and struggled against the security of his arms, trying to get a clearer look at his face. He was still concealing something. “Let me go, Jhaan.” He hesitated before his arms loosened to allow her to scoot around to face him. It was only then that she became aware of the dampness of her gown, but she ignored it as she got to her feet. Jhaan mirrored her, prepared to steady her should she falter. Rianna ignored the wave of dizziness that buffeted her, forcing herself to stand still as she stared up at his expressionless face. Her head felt tight, the room overly warm. “What is the penalty?” She almost held her breath when she sensed his reluctance to answer. “Jhaan?” “The penalty, should I be proven guilty, is Fi-irling.” Rianna had no idea what that meant, but sensed his shudder of revulsion before he suppressed it with firm determination. She bit her lip, wincing slightly. “What is that?” “Fi-irling is a procedure which permanently cuts one off from their psychic ability.” Rianna released the breath she had been holding, almost sagging with relief. “You scared me. I thought Fi-irling was a death sentence.” “It might as well be, ni harai.” The words were clear in her mind, his touch dropping to a soft whisper. “A Dakarian without his psychic ability is as crippled as if he were deprived of every one of his senses. It is such a part of us, Rianna, that the recipient of Fi-irling rarely survives long after.” Rianna was stunned, feeling another punch of fear rise from the pit of her stomach and spread outward, taking her breath away. It took her several minutes to marshal her thoughts. Such a practice was unspeakable! Barbaric. Jhaan gathered her close to hold her shivering body next to his. “Fi-irling is necessary where a being with sufficient strength can easily kill without leaving a mark upon a body. We have willingly accepted such a penalty for eons. Rarely used, the last time Fi-irling was invoked was well over a thousand cycles ago.” “You can’t allow this to happen. You read his intent, Jhaan. Saris was out of control and would have killed me had he gotten his hands on me!” Desperation colored her thoughts.
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“It does not matter, Rianna,” he said aloud. His hands on her shoulders were gentle yet firm as he held her away to look into her face. Tears blurred her vision and he gently wiped at the first to fall. “I would never hesitate to defend you.” He spoke softly, for her ears only. “But the penalty of Fi-irling is an effective and necessary deterrent to a race of people who holds the power of life and death within their minds. There aren’t many on Dakar with sufficient strength to take a life, but my family possesses this ability.” A movement beyond Jhaan’s shoulder drew Rianna’s attention to where Demitry stood, Captain Tammar shadowing him. The man’s face was twisted with an odd combination of frustration and satisfaction. The expression was so unlike his normally diffident demeanor that she began to wonder what else Demitry con Bruna had managed to successfully conceal from family and acquaintances alike all these cycles. Making a show of reading the diagnostic instruments, Healer Glassow straightened from his patient. He motioned his assistants. “Take the Turnisian prince to the palace clinic where I can conduct a more thorough examination.” His glance went first to Prince Jhaan, then swept over the other occupants of the room, pausing an instant on each face. Palace guards appeared and took up positions at each of the three doors. Rianna watched the healer’s face but could not begin to guess his thoughts. Skimming was out of the question. She had to content herself with trying to read his expression, which was just as futile. “The Turnisian prince lives, Your Majesty,” Glassow announced to the room in general although his attention remained focused upon Jhaan and the queen. “He has experienced a narcotic-induced seizure which has left his mind in a vegetative state. This condition will more than likely be permanent.” “You lie!” Demitry burst out. His darkly handsome face was twisted into something almost evil. “You lie to cover up the actions of Prince Jhaan. He is the cause of this so-called seizure.” “Demitry, you will be silent!” King Ardon bellowed from the doorway as he entered the dining hall. The look he threw his cousin was reinforced with a strong burst of ire, sufficient to
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cut off the younger man. Although he subsided, Rianna could feel Demitry’s angry resentment simmering below the surface. Healer Glassow rounded on the younger man, his face flushing at the blatant insult directed at him. “You think I would lie to conceal such a heinous crime?” He advanced on Demitry to thrust his instruments under his nose. “Read the results. See for yourself that the amount and combination of the narcotics present in A’Sarah’s bloodstream is more than sufficient to induce a seizure of this magnitude!” Demitry knocked the man’s arm out of his way, almost dislodging the delicate equipment. “You have the ability to alter any instrument to suit your needs, Healer.” He sneered, making no attempt to conceal his contempt. He turned his back on the older man, directing his next words to his rulers. “I demand that a tribunal be called.” Glances were exchanged before King Ardon gave a single abrupt nod. “So be it.” That expression of triumph once again crossed Demitry’s face as, without another word, he turned and stalked to one of the doors. The guard stationed there stepped into his path, halting his departure before he glanced to King Ardon for instructions. At his gesture, the guard stepped back and allowed the king’s cousin to leave the room. Arrogance and satisfaction oozed from Demitry as he passed from sight. There was a moment of silence before Soltaine turned to point an accusing finger at Ilena Torane. “You are to blame for this disaster, you harlot,” he declared. “It’s no secret that you’re Saris’s lover. It is also rumored that you are not only an expert in the usage of narcotics but that you were instrumental in the death of your husband.” “That is untrue!” Ilena cried out even as she scrambled to her feet and backed away. Her golden hair had escaped its elaborate arrangement, falling in luxurious curls around her bared shoulders. With admirable swiftness, she rallied to school her expression into one of pathetic helplessness as her gaze fell on Jhaan. She extended imploring arms towards him. “I was forced to become his lover! It is Saris who is skilled in narcotics, not I. I’m innocent.” “I demand this woman’s arrest,” Soltaine snapped over her increasingly frantic denials. “A full investigation will be conducted, Ambassador,” King Ardon assured him, motioning to one of the guards. “In the meantime, Lady Torane will be confined to her rooms.”
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“No…no.” Ilena shrieked. She abandoned her helpless ruse and darted toward one of the doorways where she was easily caught by the guard standing there. Her voice could be heard frantically proclaiming her innocence even as she was led away, fading as distance swallowed the sound. Queen Janae turned her concern on Rianna, moving to her side to touch her uninjured cheek with gentle fingers. “How do you feel, daughter?” Rianna was surprised to hear the woman’s voice coming to her through an entirely different link than that used with Jhaan. “I am fine, thank you, Your Majesty. A little sore.” “Understandable. I regret the danger you were placed in.” Queen Janae beckoned to Healer Glassow, who was still glowering at the empty doorway through which Demitry vanished. He appeared to recall himself and hurried to Rianna’s side. With gentle fingers, he examined her injured cheek, carefully applying pressure to the line of her jaw and asking questions as to where the pain was worse and where it was merely tender. As he spoke, she felt the brush of his mind as he used his Talent to assess her condition indepth. Assuring her that nothing was broken, he reached into his satchel and extracted a medipatch, pressing it to the curve of her cheek with a firm hand until it adhered to her skin. “Keep that pressed to your face for the next thirty minutes, Your Highness. It is too late to avoid most of the bruising, but this will take away the pain and bring the swelling down.” He directed a gentle smile down at her. “I fear you will have an impressive series of colors marring your beauty for a few days.” “It could have been worse.” The smile faded, his dark eyes troubled. “Yes, it could have been much worse.” He turned and bowed to his rulers. “With your permission, Your Majesties, I will withdraw to examine the Turnisian heir in-depth. A complete report of this incident will be prepared for the upcoming tribunal.” King Ardon beckoned him closer, lowering his voice. “You are certain of your diagnosis, Healer?” The healer hesitated an instant before nodding. “I sensed the residue of Prince Jhaan’s offense in the Turnisian Prince’s mind, but that is not what triggered his fit. Saris A’Sarah’s
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high-strung emotions combined with the ingestion of the combination of narcotics set off the seizure.” He directed a glance to where Saris was being placed upon a conveyance table in preparation of transporting him to the infirmary. The man’s slack face was pasty white against the richness of the red tunic he wore. “I detected another thread of psi residue in the man’s mind, Your Majesty. I’m unable to identify the source and will need to meditate in an effort to unravel it.” “Do what you must, Healer.” The king nodded his dismissal, thanking the man for his prompt response. Little was said as the healer and his assistants left the dining hall bearing their patient to the palace clinic. Perrin Soltaine hovered in their wake, his attempts to accompany them blocked by the guards at the doorway. King Ardon turned his attention on Bertram Chartier and his remaining party, his expression neutral, revealing none of his thoughts. His glance continued over the havoc wrought on the dining room, the overturned chairs and shattered dishes. Motioning to the anxiously hovering Damo Joc, he directed the man to begin the cleanup. “I regret that we must ask that you remain on Dakar for a few more days, Lord Chartier,” King Ardon said as he turned his attention on his guests. “A full investigation must be conducted over this incident and your testimony will be required.” Bertram Chartier paused as he brushed at his tunic where wine had splattered. “That is not possible, Your Majesty. I have duties and responsibilities awaiting me on Salazar.” “While you’re detained, we can, of course, discuss the possibility of opening trade negotiations.” Rianna could see the gleam of anticipation appear in Bertram’s eyes. Somehow he had to salvage the situation. “Upon reflection, Your Majesty. We will remain until the investigations are concluded,” he said without blinking an eye. “Of course I am happy to cooperate in any way.”
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A quick search of his face brought a rueful smile to Rianna’s lips. Bertram may be a master at the negotiation game, but she suspected he would find it difficult dealing with the people of Dakar. Their negotiators possessed an advantage that Bertram could never hope to overcome. Unable to contain her smile, she pressed the medi-patch snug against her face. She almost looked forward to watching the forthcoming maneuvering.
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Chapter Twenty-Five Rianna woke shivering. Trying to shake off the fuzziness in her head, she lay motionless in the dimmed room. Stuffed with cotton wool, her head was pounding in a sickening manner. Great. Just great. On top of everything else, she was coming down with a bout of the flu. Although uncommon, illnesses still occurred from time to time. Who knew what strains of malaise a subtropical climate like Dakar could generate. Closing her eyes, she made a mental note to see Healer Glassow. Just as soon as she was able to move without her head falling off. For a moment she allowed herself to drift in that twilight found between sleep and full wakefulness. Surely she’d feel better in a few minutes. Suddenly her eyes popped open with horror and she jerked herself upright. The room swam. The tribunal! Battling nausea, she focused in an attempt to locate Jhaan but came up against a blankness. It was then that she remembered him saying that he would be prohibited from using any type of psi ability during the course of the investigation. Putting a hand to her head she tried to think, but her mind resisted her efforts to clear it. She recalled protesting in peevish tones when he rose earlier and quietly dressed. In a gentle voice he had bade her to remain in bed before he left. Snuggling down into the warm bed, she’d promptly fallen asleep once more. Like an idiot she had slept most of the morning, missing most of the proceedings. Jhaan needed her there. Urgency gnawed at Rianna as she swept the blankets aside to swing her legs over the edge of the bed and get to her feet. A new wave of dizziness had her clinging to the bedpost, her breath coming in short pants as she fought for control of her limbs. She couldn’t recall a time when she had felt so awful.
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Z Jhaan held himself still on a raised dais, hands clasped behind his back. The elevated platform before him held the panel of three men and two women that constituted the Dakarian tribunal. Nothing showed in their faces. The gallery behind him held various witnesses awaiting their summons to testify. A glance over the tribunal room revealed not only the presence of his parents, but also Captain Tammar, Thea Chartier and several servants who had been on duty the previous evening, and finally Demitry. Jhaan’s gaze rested with thoughtful consideration on his cousin for a long moment before returning his gaze to the panel before him. All were silent as the accusations being leveled against him were read. “The charges brought against you, Prince Jhaan san deCain, are of an extremely serious nature,” the appointed spokeswoman, Tanisha sana deMoran said in quiet tones, her voice somber with the gravity of the hearing. She sat with her hands folded before her, her body swathed in the dark blue robes of her office. The other members of the panel were similarly attired and conducted themselves in the same solemn manner. “You are in full understanding of the consequences of your action should you be found guilty by this panel.” “I understand.” Jhaan kept his voice calm and steady but inside he fought the instinctive need to contact Rianna. He couldn’t risk the panel mistaking his worry as a threat, or a lack of respect for their laws. Lady deMoran inclined her head and swept her dark glance around the room, settling for a brief instant on each witness. The rustle of clothing, the clearing of a throat sounded overly loud in the quiet of the room. Shifting feet stilled when her gaze swept over the gallery. Satisfied that she had the full attention of the witnesses, Tanisha sana deMoran straightened the golden choker encircling her neck and returned her attention to Jhaan. “Very well. The testimony of the off-planet witnesses has been duly recorded and entered into the record. It is the decision of this panel that the aliens not be allowed to attend this session.” For an instant her gaze rested on Thea Chartier where she sat beside Captain Tammar but she made no comment.
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“Where is Healer Glassow?” Lady deMoran demanded when she did not immediately see him. “Has he returned yet?” Dressed in his formal uniform, Captain Tammar stood, his expression neutral. “The healer will be here shortly, Lady deMoran. The off-worlder, Ilena Torane, took ill during the night.” Jhaan kept his expression neutral. So far the evidence presented had been circumstantial. The testimony of the witnesses was deemed inconclusive with Demitry still vehement in his insistence that Jhaan had been instrumental in the seizure which befell the Turnisian. His mother testified that the fit began before his instinctive defense of Rianna had reached the man. The balance of the decision hinged on the final testimony of Healer Glassow. He’d been present earlier in the tribunal hall, preparing to testify, when one of his assistants had slipped in with an urgent summons. After hearing his message, Glassow had begged the permission of the tribunal panel to withdraw to attend to a medical emergency. The court had granted his request with the admonishment that he return as soon as possible. The guard Tammar had sent along with the healer had just returned. “This Ilena Torane. She is the woman accused of supplying the illegal narcotics found in the bloodstream of the Turnisian heir?” Dylan san Carlos inquired as he leaned forward, his long gray hair falling around his craggy face. While he appeared to have been dozing through much of the trial, only a fool would accuse him of being inattentive. Those sharp eyes were anything but distracted as they pinned the captain. “Yes, my Lord san Carlos, that is correct.” “We know this for a fact, Captain Tammar?” Lady deMoran demanded. “Yes, my lady. A search of her rooms revealed an extensive cache of narcotics, including those detected in Prince Saris.” “Very well—” Lady deMoran broke off when the huge double doors at the far end of the room were thrust open and Healer Glassow entered. He was closely followed by two of his assistants bearing the staggering figure of Ilena Torane between them. Only their support held her upright, her feet dragging with each step. Dressed in a simple silk wrap, the blue material concealed little as it hugged her generous figure. Her tousled head fell back as she appeared to laugh under her breath, her eyes heavy and dilated.
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It was the second pair of medical assistants bearing Rianna between them with gentle care that had Jhaan swearing viciously as he bounded off the dais. Without hesitation, he dropped his shield and seized their link. To his horror he found Rianna’s mind in a turmoil of near delirium. The chaotic paths of her mind spun in every direction, giving him nothing to latch onto. “Rianna!” Although the force of Rianna’s chills had her trembling beyond control, she pulled herself free of the assistants and stumbled into Jhaan’s arms. She was barely aware of his strong arms sweeping her up before she could fall, cradling her against his chest. Concentrating on the steady beat of his heart, she fought back the weariness swamping her senses and forced heavy lashes upward to focus fever-bright eyes on Jhaan’s worried face. Why was he looking so frantic? She had been barely able to find the palace clinic, the unexpected tremors wracking her body making her stumble drunkenly through the corridors. Fortunately the healer had been present, his attention centered on the figure of Ilena Torane where she was stretched out on an examination table. The other woman’s murmurings were inaudible, incoherent as she thrashed her head from side to side. Taxed, Rianna had leaned against the entrance of the doorway, watching the scene with listless eyes. Ilena appeared in far worse shape than she was. While she would have thought her sigh inaudible, it was enough to draw Ilena’s attention. Despite her unfocused eyes, she found Rianna where she swayed in the doorway. There was an instant of silence before hysterical laughter burst from the woman. Her head buzzing, Rianna was deaf to Ilena’s babbling. The effect on the healer, however, was electrifying. With something akin to horror he stared at Rianna for an instant before motioning his men to assist her to a chair as he turned on Ilena Torane. “What did you give her?” Rianna heard him demand in a tight voice. Ilena’s only response was a new bout of delirious laughter. Without preamble, Glassow seized the woman’s head between his hands and closed his eyes in deep concentration. Ilena Torane’s laughter died only to re-emerge in screams, her body arching as spasm after spasm wracked her body. Unable to summon the energy to feel any alarm, Rianna had watched through half-closed eyes. The effort to understand the healer’s actions caused a new bout of dizziness.
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Now she was only vaguely aware of the pandemonium erupting in the tribunal hall as the full extent of her condition was realized. The loud noise sent shards of pain splintering through her head. Pressing herself closer yet to Jhaan for warmth, she moaned in pain. “Order! I will have order!” Lady deMoran shouted as she stood, her hand slapping down on the smooth surface of the table. The other members of the panel followed her lead, shouting into the melee in an effort to establish control. Over Rianna’s head, Jhaan saw Captain Tammar take Thea’s arm to prevent her from rushing to Rianna’s side. A quick shake of his head stilled her, but his attention remained on the reactions of the people in the room. Their faces expressionless, the queen and king left their places amongst the witnesses and started forward. Worry flashed crossed Demitry’s face before he resumed his usual bland manner, but his eyes were anything but calm as he watched the faces of the two women being conveyed into the proceedings. “Everyone will remain where they are!” Lady deMoran issued the harsh order before turning on Jhaan, pointing one commanding finger at him. “You! Prince Jhaan! Release your link at once!” Eyes closed, he resisted her command, everything within him protesting. Finally he complied. For several minutes he continued to press his cheek against the top of Rianna’s head, feeling the heat of her fever even as another bout of violent shivering wracked her body. Her beautiful green eyes were bright with delirium when she finally focused on his face. “Jhaan?” Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over to run down her smooth cheeks. Cheeks now flaming with the strength of the fever eating at her body, the bruising on her face stood out in stark relief. “I couldn’t find you. I couldn’t feel you!” she cried out, the weakness of her voice sending another shaft of fear straight through his heart. He could feel her fading. “It is all right, maarai. I am here,” he murmured in soothing tones as he pressed his lips into her hair. His eyes were wild as they sought those of the healer. “What is wrong with her, Glassow? Why is she burning up?” “I cannot answer that, my prince. Only Ilena Torane can.”
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“What is the meaning of bringing these ill women to this tribunal?” Tanisha sana deMoran demanded when the room finally quieted. Healer Glassow bowed to the panel members, his controlled expression belied by the savage light in his dark eyes. “I will be brief, my Lady deMoran. Time is short.” His eyes returned to the thrashing figure of Ilena Torane. “I was called away earlier to treat the Lady Torane. To my initial examination it appeared she had merely taken ill. However, through diagnostics and her delirious raving it is revealed that she had taken a lethal dose of a narcotic she had secreted upon her person. It was during the course of her ranting that she divulged several facts imperative to this trial.” He nodded to his assistants to seat the woman before the panel. Without their support, Ilena would have slumped forward but the two men caught her shoulders to brace her upward. Her blue eyes were slitted as she seemed to stare unseeing at the panel, her mouth pulled back into a rictus of mirth. She continued to mumble under her breath, her words inaudible. Glassow’s expression was cold as he stared down at the drugged woman. “Let her testify for herself.” The healer swept a quick glance around at the assembly, catching Captain Tammar’s eye for a brief moment. With a nod, Tammar left Thea’s side and moved to stand a short distance behind Demitry con Bruna. The other man was so intent on the unfolding scene before him that he was unaware of the captain’s shadowing. Glassow crouched in front of Ilena Torane, catching her face between ungentle hands, tilting her head upward. His expression grew intent as he seized Ilena Torane’s mind with ruthless determination, creating a careful weaving to penetrate the maze of her delirium until he found a coherent thread. Sealing off this segment with meticulous care, he applied a subtle pressure until he roused her to near consciousness. “Lady Torane, can you hear me?” He felt Ilena’s mind swim through the murky depths of narcotics as she was forced to obey his imperative summons. She tried to fight the compulsion, finally giving in with a moan of protest. “I hear you,” she whispered, her words slurred.
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“Tell me again what you said earlier.” “No…wanna sleep.” Glassow applied pressure. “You will tell me.” Shaking her head back and forth in protest, the woman opened her eyes fully with peevish reluctance. The blood vessels had broken in her eyes, giving her a ghoulish appearance. The blue of her still beautiful eyes were swimming in a sea of red. “Took care of that Zarian bitch m’self,” she finally muttered. “Takes a woman to do it right.” Her voice grew soft, almost singsong. “Just like my poor, poor husband. A l’il comtarri mixed with a l’il miliar and root of brokow slipped into his wine and poof, I am a widow.” She laughed with satisfaction. Jhaan felt his blood freeze as he realized that Rianna’s illness was not of a natural origin. He started forward with rising menace, his arms tightening around Rianna’s shivering body. “What did you do to her? Tell me!” At the sound of his voice, Ilena turned near blind eyes on him. Her lax expression faded into a seductive heat as she arched her body in a parody of sexual enticement. Her smile drew back bloodless lips as she focused on his face. “You will be mine, Jhaan san deCain. You will be mine,” she chanted in that same singsong voice. “D’mitry is wrong, y’know. How can you resist me? No man can resist me.” “Demitry!” A sharp motion from the healer silenced him. “Oh yesh. D’mitry said you’d have nothin’ to do with me. He’s wrong, you know. Once the Zarian bitch—” She broke off to lapse into hysterical laughter that ended in a spasm of coughing. Flecks of blood mixed with spittle coated her lips. “Once she’s outta th’way, you’ll be mine.” “Is that what you gave the Princess Rianna?” The healer’s voice was calm and even, his mind working an intricate course through hers, latching onto any coherent wavelength in an effort to keep her talking. Perspiration beaded his forehead but he never faltered, applying pressure to the few remaining skeins he managed to isolate. “Comtarri, miliar and brokow?” “Combin…com’nition looks like flu. Acts like flu.” She laughed again, the edge of hysteria ending with another violent bout of coughing. “Incurable.” She fell silent for a long moment
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before she appeared to regain full coherence for a brief moment. “Saris tried to get rid of her first, y’know. Him and his ’Ciety. Stupid assassins. Fools can’ do anythin’ right.” With a suddenness that took everyone by surprise her head dropped forward as she finally lapsed into a coma. The healer released her with an expression of distaste. Jhaan stared at the unconscious woman with horror, his arms tightening around his precious burden. She had poisoned Rianna. The depth of the woman’s depravity stunned him. Rianna was roused by the almost painful pressure of his clasp, lifting strangely heavy lashes in an attempt to focus on his face. “Jhaan?” Concentrating was painful, the bright lights in the room stabbing at her sensitive eyes. Without thought she opened her mind to him, finding his blocked once more. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye as she continued to send her thoughts outward, buffeting that damned shield, seeking to contact his mind using every route. It was like sinking her hands into an unbreakable soap bubble. Every direction she came at the block was met with the same firm resistance. Her mind was splintering, spiraling out of control. With her final effort, her mind brushed against something foreign. Something she vaguely recognized as having detected the evening before. Frowning she forced herself to turn her head to gaze around the room. Her aunt’s face was wet with weeping while the expressions of the Dakarian monarchs were a mounting blend of hardness and anxiety. Her feverish eyes first passed over Demitry, halted, then backtracked to her husband’s cousin. He was paying her no heed, his attention fixed on the Turnisian woman to the exclusion of all else. In her delirium, Rianna could almost see the waves of psychic Talent flowing from him. The rainbow wave of colors would have been beautiful had it not been for the shroud of malevolence edging it. She was at once enchanted and repulsed. “It was you.” She was unaware of having uttered the words aloud, but in the near silent room her voice sounded surprisingly strong. All eyes followed her feverish bright gaze to the man standing at the back of the room. Demitry’s body jerked in reaction to the sudden attention, drawing his dark gaze in her direction. She immediately felt the strength of the psychic waves he had been emitting, recognizing his signature wavelength.
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“It was you last night.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as her strength waned once more. She struggled to continue. Jhaan had to know this. She couldn’t think why, but it was important. “It was you I felt sending a probe against Saris just before he assaulted me.” “Ridiculous!” Demitry started away, his backward motion stopped by the hard body of Captain Tammar standing behind him. “The woman is delirious! She doesn’t know what she is saying.” Without taking his eyes from Prince Demitry, Tammar motioned two of his men forward to bracket the man. Demitry’s gaze swept over the room, seeking escape. “Not at all, Prince Demitry.” The healer moved towards a long table positioned to the right of the panel. With a flick of his hand, he swept reports and equipment from its surface to the floor. He motioned for Jhaan to deposit his delicate burden onto the now cleared surface. “During my meditation late last night I was able to unravel the residue of your psi wavelength from the mind of Macklin Resh. Captain Tammar has confirmed only this morning that you had been off planet earlier in the week. It is just a matter of time before his trackers discover your exact whereabouts.” Jhaan was paying little attention to the conversation as he lowered Rianna’s limp body onto the hard surface. His hands curved over her face to stroke her burning cheeks and slide up into her dark hair, brushing back the heavy strands. Her pale face was nearly translucent, bright spots of color standing out on her cheeks as the fever burned away her remaining energy. Giving in to her weakness, she fell into unconsciousness. Jhaan turned a tormented face towards the panel, his eyes beseeching. “Release me, I beg of you. She needs me.” There was a silent exchange of glances amongst the panel before Tanisha sana deMoran gave a single nod. Immediately Jhaan turned back to Rianna, gathering himself for a moment, seeking that calm within himself before he opened his mind wide to encompass hers. The chaos he found was beyond incredible. Even unconscious her frenetic thoughts ricocheted from anguish to frustration to determination as she continued to beat at the shield he had been forced to erect. A shield no longer in use.
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The force of her mind slamming into his caused him to throw back his head with a grunt of pain, but he never once faltered in draining his own strength to hold her on this plane. The extent of her weakness terrified him. He could feel her life slipping away as she fought against the poison raging through her body. “Step back, Prince Jhaan.” Jhaan felt the healer position himself beside Rianna but didn’t spare him a glance, his focus remaining on his wife. He was so entwined with Rianna’s mind that he felt the strength of Glassow’s Talent as he sent his mind outward and into the now senseless woman. “Easy. Feed her your energy slowly. You’ll not be of any help if you deplete yourself. Give her an anchor to hold on to.” Jhaan gave no sign that he heard. He had eyes only for Rianna as he reached for both of her hands, bringing them to his chest to press them against his heart. Never had he felt such fear. She was fading so fast. Closing his eyes, he regulated the flow of his lifeforce to a steady stream, seeking to keep alive that faint flicker of awareness. He could feel the ebb and flow of her subconsciousness as her mind clung to his with tenacious stubbornness, her hold firm, refusing to give in to defeat. “Earlier, I was unable to force the Turnisian woman to disclose which chemicals she had used to poison Princess Rianna,” Glassow murmured as he worked with swift confidence, never once allowing doubt in his abilities to distract his efforts. “Her mind was too compromised by the narcotics she ingested to locate the combination and time was too short. But now that she told us what it was, I should be able to nullify, then disperse the poisons.” Jhaan could feel the healer’s presence within Rianna. The strength of the man’s psi Talent was astounding. Jhaan had always known that the healer was the most powerful psychic on Dakar, but the full scope of his Talent was incredible. He wended his way through her mind, picking out the areas of contamination with meticulous care and neutralizing the poisons before moving on. His concentration was complete as he sent himself through Rianna’s bloodstream, locating each molecule and destroying them with ruthless precision.
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Everything else receded from Jhaan’s consciousness. He was only aware of the need to keep Rianna breathing, her heart beating. At some point during the interminable process, he suddenly felt her lifeforce stutter and grow weaker. Gathering himself he thrust himself deeper into her consciousness, bathing her with his warmth and reassurance. His love. “Rianna!” He felt her stir, the flicker weakening until she was barely breathing. He caught no words, only impressions of immense weariness and an acceptance of enshrouding darkness. He could almost feel her willingness to slip away, to seek the enticing comfort of nothingness. “Do not leave me, maarai!” Frantic he seized that tiny flickering ember. “If I lose you, Rianna, I will shortly join you.” He sensed more than heard her instant protest. An eternity of suspended indecision had him silently raging at his own impotence. He could not force her compliance. It was all he could do to hold her to this life. The final decision had to be hers and hers alone. Then he felt it. A final gathering of her ebbing strength as she sought to firm her hold on life. He could almost hear her cry of defiance against the darkness, turning her back on the deceitful temptation. He felt the massive effort she exerted in her determination to survive. He wanted to shout his exaltation, his pride. She was fighting. She wanted to come back. To him! The passage of time lost all meaning as Jhaan continued to drain himself to provide Rianna with his strength, sweat streaming freely down his face. Hands grasped his shoulders and he realized he had slumped forward until his head rested against Rianna’s chest. Her heart beat under his cheek. He was too weak to resist the hands pulling him upward, away from the sweet sound of it. “Release her, Jhaan,” his father said. Jhaan felt his father’s Talent wrestle with his, forcing Jhaan to release his control over Rianna. “She is breathing on her own.” Disorientated, Jhaan opened his eyes to seek the still pale form of his wife. Rianna lay motionless, eyes closed but he could see the rise and fall of her chest. She no longer burned with the deadly fever.
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Closing his eyes with relief, he tentatively extended his awareness, seeking hers. While still weak, she was no longer in danger of slipping away. Even as he monitored her strength, he could feel a surge of her own energies rush in to fill the void left by his withdrawal. A glance at the healer showed the man still deep within his meditation, his mind continuing to cleanse any taint remaining in Rianna’s system. His face was drawn and pasty white. Glancing wearily around the room, he noticed the tribunal panel no longer occupied the bench, speaking amongst themselves in quiet tones while keeping an alert eye on the tableau taking place. His family was gathered close while the servants who had been serving as witnesses had scattered and were providing refreshments to the room’s occupants. He didn’t see Demitry and his anger swelled to lethal savagery. A surge of adrenaline filled him with fresh strength, dispersing any lingering weakness. “Where is he?” he demanded when his initial search failed to locate him. Captain Tammar left his position beside Thea, indicating the absence of several of his guards with a wave of his hand. “Prince Demitry has been taken into custody, Jhaan.” Tanisha sana deMoran broke off her conversation with the other members of the panel and stepped forward. She gathered the folds of her cloak around her slender form, emphasizing her position of authority with a straightening of the gold collar encircling her throat. “Based upon the evidence presented not only by the healer but by your wife, Prince Jhaan, you are hereby found innocent of any psi induced crime. However, this panel has found sufficient cause to hold Prince Demitry over for trial.” “He’s mine.” He ground out the words as impulses of violence raced through his blood, demanding revenge. “Demitry con Bruna is to stand trial for his crimes, Prince Jhaan,” Lady deMoran said, unmoved by his intimidation. “Prince Demitry’s punishment will be decided in a court of law.” When Jhaan would have argued with the chairwoman, his attention was drawn by the healer’s weary sigh. All thoughts of revenge were dismissed as his focus returned to Rianna, his gaze tracing every beloved line of her face. Her color was better, no longer translucent, while her
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breathing was no longer labored. Long lashes flickered briefly before she finally gave in and fell into a natural sleep. Relief surged through him as his fingers brushed against her cheek, seeking reassurance. He felt rather than heard her soft sigh as she unconsciously pressed her cheek into the cradle of his palm. “Thank you, Healer. You have restored something more precious to me than my life.” Glassow released his hold on Rianna, swaying with weariness before his hovering assistants sprang forward with a chair. Dropping into its hard embrace, he leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands. “Lady Torane was correct,” Glassow said after a long moment, raising his head. There were new lines bracketing his mouth. “The flu-like symptoms would have masked the true nature of the poison until it was too late. Fortunately, the poison’s true target involved the mind.” A grim smile curved his lips. “Had she used any other poison, I might not have been able to neutralize it.” A disturbance outside the doors interrupted him. A young voice could be heard shouting, his tone shrill with fear. The double doors were thrown open and the guards posted there hustled a small boy into the room. His face wet with tears, he stumbled towards the captain. “Captain! They’re dead!” Swaying, the boy would have fallen had Captain Tammar not caught him, holding him upright as the child struggled to form a coherent sentence. A babble of voices managed to drown out the boy’s wracking sobs before Tammar regained control of the situation, hunkering down to bring his face to eye level with the child, recognizing him as one of the youngest kitchen helpers. He forced himself to remain calm. “Who is dead, Andre? Answer me.” The boy choked back a sob, tears running freely down his smooth cheeks. “The soldiers escorting Prince Demitry.” Hanging his head until his hair fell into his face, he stared at the floor, ashamed. “I ran, Captain Tammar. I was coming around a corner in the lower level when I heard the sound of a blaster going off. I stopped just as Prince Demitry and another guard shot the others. Then I ran.”
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Captain Tammar swore under his breath, the gray of his eyes freezing over to ice. Without another word he sprang from his crouch and vanished through the still open doors. Jhaan allowed himself one last glance at Rianna before sprinting after the captain. “Guard her!” Healer Glassow turned without another word and followed the other men from the room, his face showing no sign of his recent strain. Their departure left a deep pool of silence, the remaining occupants staring at each other with worry.
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Chapter Twenty-Six Gaining the lower levels took only minutes. Reaching the intersecting corridor identified by Andre, a half-dozen guards fanned out to take up defensive positions. Jhaan slid along the wall, Tammar at his side, scanning the immediate vicinity to the furthest extent of their psi Talent, searching, seeking any hint of danger. Nothing. Weapons drawn, the two men eased around the corner, ready to pull back. All was still. Their gazes were drawn to the three bodies lying like broken marionettes. Tammar strode forward and dropped beside them, his face a hard mask. One man lay sprawled on his face, blood still pooling under him while another rested on his back, no injury visible. The third lay half turned away, a blaster inches from his outstretched fingers. The healer surveyed the scene with sorrowful eyes. Having determined that all three men were dead, there was little he could do. Jhaan stood at his side, his eyes taking in the scene of the battle, missing nothing. “Three guards,” he murmured as he noted the blaster marks on the smooth white walls, testimony of the returned fire. Captain Tammar joined him in examining the evidence. None of his rage was revealed in his hard face, yet Jhaan was aware of it simmering below the surface. With reason. Three of the captain’s best people were dead. “The fourth guard accompanying Prince Demitry must have been his man.” Tammar spared a glance for the three soldiers sprawled on the floor, identifying each one of them. “Tomasin deMorray. He had joined the palace guards a little over a cycle ago. Before that he was stationed in Demaske.” With an abruptness that betrayed his fury, he yanked a communication unit from the inner pocket of his tunic, hooking the instrument over one ear and positioning the mic over his mouth.
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“Captain Tammar here. Shut down the palace immediately,” he said into the device. “Prince Demitry con Bruna and Trooper Tomasin deMorray are to be found without delay. They’re armed and dangerous.” “Demitry must be found quickly,” Jhaan stated in a low voice. “There is no telling what damage he can cause.” “He will be found, Jhaan. One way or another.” “Keep in mind, Conlan, we have several off-worlders who have no experience or ability in creating shields against any mind enhancements. My cousin appears to have made an art of that particular ability.” For an instant, alarm chased across Tammar’s face. Jhaan knew he was thinking of Thea Chartier. Given their lack of training, both women would be particularly vulnerable to anything Demitry might direct against them. A chiming tone from Tammar’s communicator interrupted any further conversation. “Report.” His eyes went to Jhaan as he listened for several moments in silence before issuing several curt instructions and shutting down the communication. “The space port reported a ship lifting off without authorization,” he told Jhaan, his eyes unfocused as he turned this over in his mind. “It is possible that both Prince Demitry and deMorray have fled Dakar.” “Yes,” Jhaan agreed. He felt a brief flash of relief that Rianna and her aunt would be safe. “But do you think it likely?” “If Prince Demitry is as clever as we think he is, yes, it is very likely. Knowing what to expect should he be captured, he would be a fool to remain on Dakar. Still, the search of the palace and grounds will continue. I’ve ordered trackers to follow the ship. Whoever is on that ship will be captured.” “Good.” Jhaan left Captain Tammar directing his men and made his way back toward the upper levels, deep in thought. It appeared that Demitry had concealed the full extent of his ability for a good number of cycles. Was it a Talent he had always possessed and carefully hidden, or was it a
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latent ability gained at a subsequent date, after the initial testing had taken place? While rare, it was not impossible. In keeping with his earlier ambition, Demitry might well have been biding his time for the perfect opportunity to make his move to be named successor. Influencing an individual here and there would not be especially difficult. Particularly if there was no reason to suspect manipulation. Jhaan wondered just how much damage Demitry had wrought over the cycles. How many policies and laws had been influenced with a subtle, well-planted compulsion? Jhaan shuddered to think how close his cousin had come to accomplishing his own destruction. With the death of Rianna, Jhaan would not have lasted much longer. It would have been relatively simple for his cousin to enhance that abhorrence into outright violence. The opportunity presented to Demitry must have been serendipitous. Without dirtying his own hands, he had only to see that A’Sarah succeeded. He had a scapegoat with both motive and ability to accomplish his ultimate goal. That of removing Jhaan as successor heir. His manipulation of Ilena Torane showed Jhaan how far his cousin was prepared to go to accomplish his goals.
Eyes closed, Rianna rested in the daybed, sighing with relief. She still had to move with care or the world whirled in a sickening manner, but she could already feel her strength returning. It sent a shiver down her spine when she thought about how close she’d come to dying. “How are you feeling?” The soft inquiry made Rianna open her eyes with reluctance. Turning her head she looked into her aunt’s concerned face as she hovered at her side. “Can I get you anything?” Thea had remained with her after she was delivered to her rooms by King Ardon himself. He had placed her on the cushioned daybed with a gruff admonition to rest before leaving to arrange for guards at her doors. Rianna’s smile was weary. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”
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Physically, she felt surprisingly well, but a growing sense of unease penetrated her mind, and she glanced around, searching for the source. Her mind reached out for Jhaan, brushing against his consciousness for reassurance. Although she sensed his distraction, he was not the source of her discomfort. She rubbed her hands up and down over her arms, trying to quiet the chill of disquiet. There was nothing in the room to raise alarm. The late afternoon sun streamed in through the opened glass doors, a warm breeze stirring the diaphanous coverings with lazy fingers, causing them to billow out with each gentle gust. Numerous birds sang in the gardens below. Everything seemed serene. Nothing at all to be alarmed at. Her worried glance returned to the closed door, once again sending out a probing search for the man she could feel in the distance. “What’s the matter, Rianna? You look worried.” “I’m…not sure. Something feels wrong.” “We have guards at the door and in the garden. We’re perfectly safe here.” “Did anyone find out how Ilena managed to poison me?” Thea stood and paced the room, pausing at the open doors leading onto the balcony before continuing her circuit. “Yes. The poison was in the goblet of khai delivered to you yesterday morning. Trooper DeMorray told him the drink was ordered by the queen.” So that was how it had been done. She suspected that, had she drunk more, the poison would have worked far more quickly. And more deadly. There was a tap at the door and a guard leaned inside to check on the two women. His glance swept over them before he gave a courteous nod and pulled the doors shut once more. Although reassured by the vigilance of her guards, Rianna’s sense of restlessness continued. The growing malevolence pulsed over her until she had to glance at her aunt to see whether she was displaying any sign of uneasiness, but Thea seemed serene as she wandered around the room. Rianna’s heart pounded, and a sense of danger threatened to choke her. She looked again at her aunt, but Thea was absolutely still, her face a frozen mask with wide, staring eyes.
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“Thea? What is it?” Without warning Thea’s eyes rolled upward and she dropped to the brightly colored rug in a boneless sprawl. “Thea!” Instinctively, Rianna reached out toward Jhaan but felt nothing. A wave of malevolence washed over her, numbing her mind. Fighting back her fear, she flung back the blanket. Rianna swung her legs off the daybed and rushed to her aunt’s side on unsteady legs. As she rolled Thea onto her back, she pressed frantic fingers against her throat, searching for a pulse. When she found it beating with steady strength, she released her breath in a sigh. Framing her aunt’s face with her hands, Rianna was shocked to find Thea’s eyes open and staring up at her. The fear she was projecting made Rianna’s mouth go dry with alarm. Was she having some sort of fit? A quick glance at the door confirmed it was still closed. The guards must not have heard anything. Again she reached for Jhaan but slammed against a block, the force sending a wave of pain through her head. “Do not bother trying to revive her.” A voice laced with casual amusement came from behind her, disrupting her concentration. “I assure you it would be useless.” Still crouched, Rianna twisted around, almost losing her balance. Some part of her was unsurprised to see the gloating face of Jhaan’s cousin standing in the open glass doors of the balcony. Demitry leaned one shoulder against the jamb, unconcerned that the entire palace guard was out searching for him. Where were the men guarding the garden entrance? Rianna opened her mouth to call out to the guards but something seized her consciousness, choking back the cry before it could be uttered. The alien presence enveloped her mind like a dark stain, making her skin crawl. The presence locked her muscles. She fought to stand, but couldn’t function. Without thought, she again tried to reach Jhaan through their link, but crashed into the block Demitry had flung up in her head.
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Her fear spiked as she realized that she could only kneel there and stare up at him, unable to move. Helpless. “Interesting thing, the mind.” Demitry straightened from his position to stroll across the room. He paused at the doors long enough to flip the lock. Halting beside Thea, he prodded her supine body with a foot, his triumphant expression deepening as Thea returned his look with one of stark terror. “For instance, I am able to not only dispense of the guards outside, but render both you and your dear aunt immobile with just the use of my mind. It is a rare ability that few, if any, possess. And one that is immediately neutralized when it is detected during our adolescent testing. Such a Talent is deemed too tempting to put into practice.” His wheezed with laughter. “I had discovered my little ability early on, before the testing, and was able to conceal it from my instructors. It is not really a Talent that anyone looks for, since it has not surfaced in a millennium.” The amusement left his face, his expression hardening in a mask of frustration. “With everyone exclaiming over the psi strength of dear cousin Jhaan that day it was simple to hide it. Everyone pitied poor Demitry con Bruna.” His voice rose several octaves as he mimicked the high pitched nasal voice of his tester. “Why, he is nearly a null.” Rianna stared in mute silence as he continued to gaze down at Thea, forcing herself to think, to ignore the gibbering fear projected in her mind. Unable to reach Jhaan, she could not expect help from that direction. Therefore she could only rely on herself and her wits. With meticulous care, she examined Demitry’s block, searching each point for any weakness. It was different from the one Jhaan had forced on her. This one felt…odd. Like it was not quite whole. The realization gave her hope. As she assessed its strength, part of her attention noted the sheen of perspiration beading Demitry’s forehead, the feverish glow in his eyes. His hands trembled as he rubbed at the sweat and a shiver seemed to run through his large body. Returning her attention to his face, she searched his expression.
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“You ruined everything, you know.” Demitry continued to speak, almost to himself. The absent attention he showed her was all the more frightening. He knew she was powerless. “Only one more week. That’s all Jhaan had left to find his psi-mate before he would have been declared sterile and removed as successor heir.” He must have caught the surprise in her eyes before she could conceal it. His laughter took on an edge of hysteria. “Didn’t you know? Tsk, tsk. Dear Cousin Jhaan should have told you. Once passed over, there would not have been a second chance. I would have inherited everything. Everything!” When his gaze met hers, Rianna noted the maniacal light in their dark depths and rage leaked past his impassive mask. She could feel it floating in the air. It dawned on her that he was mad. Rianna’s mouth went dry. A psychic criminal was frightening enough. An insane one turned her insides to jelly. “You really were fortunate not to have married that weak-minded imbecile A’Sarah. He proved too simple to manipulate.” Demitry’s attention turned inward. “The Torane woman, however—now she was a bit more of a challenge. Still, I simply needed to point her into the direction she wished to go, which was to crawl into my dear cousin’s bed. I tried to warn her, you know.” His tone was almost conversational as he bent to slide his hands under Rianna’s arms. When he had her in a tight grip, he released the paralysis he had placed on her muscles, at the same time pulling her upright in one smooth motion. Control came back to Rianna’s limbs in a rush and she tried to pull away, but his hold was too secure. Opening her mouth to scream, no sound came out. Her vocal cords remained frozen. Freeing one hand, Demitry tapped her lips with one finger in an almost playful manner. His eyes glowed with feverish delight. “Ah, ah, ah, none of that, Princess.” His expression became intent as he studied her pale face, his eyes running over her almost possessively. “You really are quite lovely in an alien sort of way.” His expression turned brooding. “Melia is proving quite worthless, you know. She had been so eager to escape the boredom of Demaske that when I proposed a false psi-link she jumped at the idea. It was simple enough to bribe a
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magistrate in that remote area to perform a pseudo linking ceremony and have it duly registered. Having a registered psi-mate enabled me to secure my position as the next successor heir once Jhaan failed to find his mate. But now she seems to be having second thoughts. I’ll need to get rid of her. Nothing is going as I planned.” With a lightening change of mood, his face darkened again. He thrust her away and she stumbled over her aunt’s recumbent body. “One week. All my careful planning ruined by an alien.” Even though she couldn’t call out, Rianna angled her falling body toward a nearby table, flinging out one arm to sweep a large glass vase from its top. The porcelain shattered on the hardwood floor with a loud crash. She prayed it would draw the attention of the two guards positioned outside her door. “You bitch!” Demitry was on her in an instant, his fingers winding into the material of her tunic as he pulled her upright once more. Rianna used her own momentum to swing him around and sweep his legs out from under him. He crashed to the floor. Rianna leaped over him and dashed toward the open glass terrace doors overlooking the gardens. She knew she had only seconds to get out of his range of influence. As she flung herself out onto the balcony and darted for the stairs leading downward, she heard the guards calling out, then the rattle of the doorknob. Instead of running down the stairs, she vaulted the low balcony wall. She sailed through the air for several meters. Landing on the spongy lawn, she dropped into a rolling crouch to take the impact of her landing. Dizziness threatened to hinder her before the need for survival took over and adrenaline pumped new stamina into her veins. She heard Demitry swearing viciously as she bound to her feet and fled into the depths of the gardens without a backward glance. Her breathing already labored, Rianna continually chose the least trodden pathways winding throughout the gardens, keeping her route random. She could still feel Demitry’s block, but was reassured by her continued mobility. Was it possible that distance was an equalizing factor?
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Again and again she flung her subconscious against the barrier, each time feeling it rebound back at her. She refused to give up. There had to be a point where she would be able to shatter his control. As her path narrowed, Rianna forced her way through the increasingly dense brush, her progress hampered by the sharp slap of thick vegetation. She was still so weak. She began to stumble, and her sense of balance worsened. Pausing for an instant, she caught her breath as she glanced around, seeking a direction. Hiding was out of the question. Demitry would be able to track her with ease. Her only hope lay in moving. Putting distance between them. Continued attempts to reach Jhaan were useless. Not while Demitry’s block remained in place. A sudden sense of peril returned to plague her, beginning as a faint tickling sensation at the back of her mind, growing in strength with each passing minute. It took her an instant to realize it was Demitry. The link was bold, with no effort to conceal his presence. He was using her own mental signature to track her. She could almost feel his confidence. The sense of menace broke over her with inundating waves and she froze. The bastard was using her fear as a delaying tactic. With an angry shake of her head she forced her leadened legs into motion, allowing the fresh surge of adrenaline racing through her bloodstream to fuel a new burst of speed. She beat at his block with increasingly frantic blows, her mounting terror threatening to numb her mind. Stumbling on a root stretched across her path, she cried out, her voice loud in the near silence. Only then did she realize she had regained the use of her vocal cords. A sudden hope blossomed in her head. Carefully she cleared her throat to reassure herself that her voice had returned. She wanted to shout out in triumph. If Demitry’s influence on her voice had faded, what of his block? Rather than flinging herself randomly against it, she centered herself to delve into her own consciousness, inspecting his alien presence. Yes. She found a new softening in the barrier, could feel the slight give when she applied a tentative pressure to it. Gathering her concentration she thrust everything she had against the pliable portion of the block. Like a soap bubble, it burst and her mind thrust past it.
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“Jhaan!” She cried out with elation as she raced along their link, relief lending her a burst of strength. She pushed her way through the leafy foliage, trying to get a bearing of his position. A branch snapped back, cutting across her cheek. “I am here, maarai.” Rianna almost sobbed with relief as she felt his presence. He was near. Very near. His voice in her head was calm, a caressing brush against her mind. She felt a new surge of confidence. “How did you know I needed you?” “I could not reach you through Demitry’s block,” he replied in that same controlled tone. A fresh wave of malevolence swept over her, choking her. “He’s trying to hinder you, ni harai.” “I know!” She wanted nothing more than to huddle in on herself. “I know what he’s doing, but it’s so hard to control my fear.” “Take the right path and keep moving.” Jhaan’s voice in her head was still calm, soothing. Her fear lifted. “Do not allow yourself to fall into his hands.” “He’s insane, Jhaan.” She forced her feet to move. She felt more than heard his silence for several long heartbeats. “I know.” She took the right fork in the path without hesitation, realizing by the positioning of the shadows that she was circling back towards the palace. “My father is waiting for you just ahead. Go with him. I will deal with Demitry.” The information no sooner floated through her mind than Rianna broke out of the garden and spied King Ardon a half-dozen meters ahead of her. She stumbled across the last remaining space, her legs giving out on her as she allowed him to sweep her into the palace and to safety. “Thea…?” she gasped out as she was hustled down the hallways to the private suite of rooms used by the monarchs. “She is fine,” King Ardon assured her. “Demitry released her when he went after you. It was too much of an effort for him to control both of you from any type of distance. It was you he wanted revenge against.”
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She twisted to stare up into the hard planes of his face, shivering when she read the deadly intent in his expression, felt it flowing through his emotions. “What happens now?” “Now Jhaan handles this.”
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Chapter Twenty-Seven Jhaan cloaked his presence as he stalked his cousin through the thick vegetation, his steps silent. He could hear Demitry ahead of him. He wasn’t bothering to conceal himself. The man’s confidence was chilling. Without effort, Jhaan blocked out the enhancing waves of dread Demitry was broadcasting, designed to ensnare Rianna in a web of paralyzing fear. A quick check assured him that she was safe, freeing him to turn his full attention on his cousin. He could feel the pulsating flows of madness coloring Demitry’s psi spectrum. How his cousin had managed to conceal his increasingly disturbed behavior for so long was a mystery. Even more amazing was the strength he exuded. Jhaan hoped it did not come down to a contest of ability, but feared it would. While he knew his own capabilities, Demitry was an unknown element. Jhaan felt Demitry stop, his mind casting about in an effort to locate Rianna. Jhaan felt satisfaction that he wouldn’t find it. He had cloaked her presence against Demitry’s Talent. Jhaan waited, feeling Demitry close by. Watching the path, he remained concealed as his cousin appeared. Demitry stopped, eyes closed as he concentrated on his search. Jhaan watched him in silence, anger welling up. This was the man who endangered his psi-mate, whose actions threatened his world. Demitry’s growing agitation was evident, his face shining with perspiration. He stiffened, turning his head with slow deliberation until he was staring directly at the foliage masking Jhaan. Knowing Demitry sensed him, Jhaan stepped from his cover, studying his cousin’s face, alert for any sign of attack. Demitry’s expression remained almost mild. “I didn’t think you had left aboard the transport, Demitry.” Jhaan kept his tone conversational, concealing his tension. “No, that fool deMorray seems to think he will be able to elude Tammar’s trackers.” Demitry shrugged. “For myself, I left some unfinished business here.” 258
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“If you are referring to Rianna, she is quite safe.” A flash of rage crossed his cousin’s face before he regained control. The continuous swinging of emotions disturbed Jhaan. “So.” Demitry’s tone returned to mild as he crossed his arms over his chest. “This is what it comes to.” Jhaan watched him carefully. “This doesn’t have to happen, Demitry. You can still get help. It’s not too late.” “Get help? Why bother? By the outdated laws of Dakar, my crimes already warrant Fiirling.” Jhaan made one more bid for common ground. “Demitry…” His cousin struck without warning. Jhaan staggered under the power of the psychic bolt and he flung back his head, feeling the blood drain from his face as he dropped to his knees, grasping his head in agony, his mind almost scoured blank under this attack. Rianna’s pained cry echoed through his mind. He realized she had maintained an open contact with him. He couldn’t take the time now to seal off their merge. Whatever he was going to feel would echo through their link to her. “You see?” Demitry gloated even as he advanced on Jhaan, his expression showing his confidence. “Isn’t it obvious I surpass even you, the golden boy of Dakar? Generation after generation, we of Dakar continue to gain in psychic strength. Why should we limit ourselves? Hide away from the rest of the universe when we could be ruling these pitiful weaklings? We have the power, yet we do not have the nerve to use it. Instead of accepting the restrictions of the F.O.W., they would be doing our bidding.” Jhaan pulled himself to his feet, swaying under the lingering residue of his cousin’s attack. His head was on fire, the pain reverberating through his mind. Swiftly he rallied his defenses even as his cousin prepared another assault. Demitry’s face was fanatical, his pupils expanded until they filled the irises, sweat running freely down his neck to darken the high collar of his tunic.
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As his cousin struck a second time, Jhaan threw up his defenses to reflect the bolt back to its origin. Demitry grunted with the force of the rebound, the heated calm flickering, a hint of uncertainty entering his dark gaze. Pressing his advantage, Jhaan thrust a probe under Demitry’s defenses in an attempt to render him immobile. At the last instant, Demitry eluded the attack, turning aside his offensive maneuver and neutralizing it. “You’re a bit stronger than I anticipated, Jhaan, but no matter…” He struck out once more, his lips peeling back to bare his teeth in a soundless snarl of fury as he flung his entire strength against Jhaan. By a hair’s breadth Jhaan avoided the full brunt of the blow, halting the flow of power before it could neutralize him forever. He recognized the weave of psychic flow. Fi-irling. It was something Demitry should not have been able to duplicate. Sweat streamed down Jhaan’s face as he held his shield firm, unable to break off his defense to retaliate. It was taking everything he had to hold back the needle-thin probe that would severe him forever from his psychic abilities. Anyone coming upon them would have found the two men merely facing each other, their bodies tense with strain as each sought to push the other to the edge, seeking to overcome the other. “You know, it truly is a pity that you had found your woman, dear cousin,” Demitry said after several moments of holding that precarious balance. His voice was conversational despite the perspiration dripping down his face. “I had so many plans to put into motion once I was named successor heir. The first doing away with the necessity of the Dakarian ruler being mated. It is an outdated custom of little practicality. It certainly limits one, don’t you think?” Jhaan made no reply, gazing back at his cousin from behind a remote mask that concealed his sudden bafflement. Was Demitry seeking to distract him while he gathered himself for a final blow? His own muscles were locked, rendering him frozen as he poured all of his energy into holding back his cousin’s assault. What was Demitry waiting for? Jhaan was already exerting every ounce of effort he possessed to hold him off. Why didn’t he press his advantage?
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Peering at Demitry, he saw the strain eating away at his expression. Although he stood with arms crossed, Jhaan noted his hands gripping his upper arms, trembling with the force of his exertions. Demitry wasn’t gathering himself to hurl everything he had at him. He was already at his limit. Rather than surpassing him in ability, they were equal. They were balanced on a knife’s edge of strength, neither able to dredge up one iota more of power. They were at a standstill when Jhaan became aware of an alerting brush from his psi-mate. Taking care not to distract him, Rianna was reminding Jhaan of her continued presence in his mind. There was a moment of hesitation as he felt her evaluate the situation. He could almost feel her drawing a deep breath before, without warning, she opened herself fully, pouring her own mental strength into his. For an instant he was stunned by the flow of psychic waves she released, the added supplement providing him with a fresh surge of energy and giving him the edge. The force of her psi power surged over him, through him, until he was awash with the additional strength needed to thrust Demitry’s block steadily back at him. Demitry’s control faltered as his confidence dissolved. In that instant, Jhaan struck with his renewed strength, his probe sliding between his cousin and his Talent, slicing through that portion of his mind with surgical precision. Jhaan had neutralized him. For a long moment neither moved. Then Demitry flung back his head with a terrible cry, his face wreathed in horror as he felt himself forever cut off. His screams continued for several more minutes, one after the other, as fast he could draw breath before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. Silence settled in that deserted portion of the palace gardens. Weariness dragging at him, Jhaan moved to his cousin’s side, victory a bitter taste in his mouth. Why had he never realized the extent of Demitry’s ambition? When he found he couldn’t succeed, his greed had finally driven him over the edge into madness. Jhaan continued to stare down at his cousin until the sound of hurried steps on the gravel pathway drew his attention. Without surprise, he turned at the arrival of Captain Tammar and several of his men.
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“My men assigned to the princess reported Prince Demitry’s attack as soon as they managed to break into your rooms.” Tammar directed his men to take Demitry into custody. More than one man edged around Jhaan, a new sense of caution directed toward him. Tammar gripped his shoulder and drew Jhaan’s attention back to him. “There was nothing you could have done, Jhaan. From what Thea said, your cousin was quite insane.” “I know.” Jhaan sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck in a weary gesture. His entire body ached worse than if he had taken a severe beating. That Demitry’s fate could have so easily been his own—he shuddered. Demitry would not long survive being nulled. Although healthy in body, there was something lost within that would take with it the will to live. To assuage his disquiet, Jhaan reached through their link for Rianna, seeking her comforting presence. And found nothing. His head came up and around, suddenly alert and more than a little alarmed as he scanned for her, experiencing a void as he tried to reach her. He couldn’t feel her. Ignoring his exhaustion he sharpened his probe to extend it along their link, seeking her with growing urgency. It was as if a great emptiness had taken up residence in his mind. Fear shuddered through him, his breath came faster, more ragged as his heart slammed hard in his chest. Fresh adrenaline poured into his bloodstream, dissolving his weariness. With a suddenness that left Tammar staring after him with openmouthed astonishment, he sprinted for the palace. Tearing through the corridors, he didn’t slow until he arrived at the closed double doors leading into his parents’ private apartments. The heavy wooden partitions slammed open against the inside walls with a resounding crash. His gaze swept around the room, barely noticing the presence of others, having eyes only for the woman stretched out on the divan. He ignored everyone to hurry to her side, dropping to his knees to take her cold hand in his warm one. Grasping it gently in his own, he used the other to smooth back her hair. For a horrified moment, he thought she had burned herself out. The surge of psychic energy she had thrust into him to aid him against his cousin had been immense. Greater than he would have suspected she possessed.
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“Rianna,” he murmured. “Open your eyes. Come back to me.” It seemed forever before he was rewarded with the flutter of dark lashes. Slowly they lifted until Jhaan found himself staring into her dazed eyes. Puzzlement drew her brows together. “What happened?” Jhaan allowed himself a relieved smile. It grew into a wide grin, then full-throated laughter as he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Then, holding her away from him for a moment, he gave her a slight shake. “Do you realize what you could have done?” he demanded. Fear made his voice harsh as his relief melted into anger. “Few Dakarians would have attempted what you did, Rianna. You could so easily have burned yourself out. Nulled yourself.” “Well I didn’t, did I?” She pushed against his chest, and he allowed her to free herself. “Do you mind? I would like to get up.” Jhaan finally released her, standing and extending a hand to help her to her feet. Looking down into her stubborn face, he felt his wrath dissipating, replaced by euphoria. When she swayed, he swept her up into his arms. She squeaked and flung her arms around his neck for support. Color heated her cheeks as she began to struggle. “Put me down, you barbarian!” Turning, Jhaan secured his hold on her with ease, managing a slight bow to his parents. “Pray forgive us, Mother, Father, but we have much to discuss.” “Go, go. You can give us a full report later. You will have your work cut out for you, my son.” Jhaan’s mother gave his father a look that had him clearing his throat with haste. Ignoring Rianna’s continued admonishments, Jhaan exited the room through the still-open doors, carrying her down the hallway, past astonished servants until he came to the doors leading into their own apartments. Shouldering open the damaged doors, he continued without a word through the sitting room and straight into their bed chamber, swinging around to drop her into the comfort of the huge bed. Her startled cry was lost as Jhaan followed her down into the scented pillows, his weight settling onto her softness until no part of her was free of his touch. “You really are a barbarian!”
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Jhaan raised himself on his elbows to peer down into her mutinous face, a sense of deep satisfaction making him smile. “Have I told you how much I love you?” he inquired almost whimsically, effectively silencing her continuing tirade. Rianna stared up at him, her mouth still open in mid-sentence. Unable to resist, Jhaan swooped down and captured her lips with his. He slowed to take his time, laving her full lips with the tip of his tongue before deepening the kiss to savor her taste, vowing he would never get enough of her unique flavor. Rianna rallied almost immediately, matching his aggression as she returned his caresses, her tongue dueling with his before taking control of the kiss. Weaving her fingers through his hair, she plundered his mouth with her own. Breaking off the kiss, she stared up at him, enjoying the poleaxed look on his face under her unexpected ravishment. “Tell me again,” she demanded as she peppered kisses along his jaw, pausing to flick the tip of her tongue with teasing torment against his ear. “I love you, Rianna sana deCain,” he told her, his voice tender. She felt him open the link between them, allowing her to experience the depth of his emotions, holding nothing back. As he bathed her senses with the strength of his heart, Rianna felt the sting of tears. When she read the full extent of his love, she allowed the tears to well up in her eyes and stream unchecked down her face. His love was a wild mixture ranging from tenderness to heated desire. Possessiveness vied with his need to see to her complete happiness. Everything that he was, inside and out, was given over to her, without hesitation or reservation. “Let me hear you say it,” he demanded. His lips wove magic over her skin, dipping to lick along the upper swell of one breast. Rianna moaned with growing passion and pressed herself against his mouth. She tightened her hold when he broke off his attentions and raised his head to stare down at her. “Please!” she moaned, twisting under him. “Tell me,” he demanded again, his voice rough.
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Promise for Tomorrow
Raising herself, Rianna pressed a gentle kiss to his lips as she dropped all of her defenses, granting him the same freedom of her mind as he had. She allowed the tapestry of her emotions to weave into his mind, sparking his passion as no aphrodisiac ever could. She hid nothing. Not in her expression, not in her caresses, not in her mind. “I love you, Jhaan san deCain,” Rianna murmured. The hunger in his mind roused hers to new levels, acting as a mirror to magnify her passion until the need was almost unbearable. “You are my life.” Reaching up, she brushed his hair back, staring up into his face as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. “There is hope, you know,” she said with soft certainty. “Hope?” “For the people of Dakar.” She peered up at his face in the dim light. “For the males of Dakar. You found me, an alien who was your psychic match. Captain Tammar appears to have found the same in my Aunt Thea. There must be other women out there who are compatible to the men of Dakar.” Staring down into the loving green eyes of his psi-mate, he wondered how he had survived before she had crash landed into his life. She was his life, his joy, his reason for living. His salvation. Touching her mind with his, he realized she represented a hope for the future of his people. A promise for the continued existence of Dakar.
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About the Author To learn more about Liz Kreger, please visit www.lizkreger.com. Send an email to
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Look for these titles Now Available Forget About Tomorrow
On the run from an intergalactic mob boss, she kidnaps the earthling security expert who helped her. Her plan? Make him forget about tomorrow.
Forget About Tomorrow © 2007 Liz Kreger Now available in print Larissalyia Ashanti, is hiding out on Earth, a barbarian planet unsanctified by the FOW—Federation of Worlds—and on the run from an intergalactic mob boss who plans to use her as leverage to force her magistrate father to clear his criminal record. Mac, an earthman, witnesses the evidence of aliens when the mob catches up with Lacey. After he helps her fight them off, she does the only thing she can think of—she kidnaps him and takes him with her as she flees Earth. Mac learns the answer to that age old question of whether there’s life out there…in spades. But not only does he have to convince Lacey that his numerous skills are indispensable, he has to find a way into her heart. The chase is just beginning…and so are the romance, adventure and danger as they cross the universe in search of safety and answers.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Forget About Tomorrow: “So, now what?” Her attention snapped back to Mac. He hadn’t turned from his contemplation of the stars outside the ship, yet something in his manner told her he was aware of everything she did. “Now we go to Cyber Five where we regroup and make plans.” “We?” “You are along for the ride, Victor.” The use of his name gained her a look of irritation. For a moment she thought he was going to protest her use of his name, but then he shrugged. “Do you plan to wipe my memory there?” he asked.
Larissalyia hesitated. It would be a good place to do it. She had everything she needed for the procedure. There was really no reason to wait. Other than the fact that she couldn’t return Mac to Earth yet. Not while it was likely that one of the Kyrions might be lying in wait. It didn’t make sense to wipe his memory quite yet. Finally she shook her head. “No, as I said, I cannot return you to your world until the danger is past,” she replied as she justified her decision in her own mind. “I have no doubt my father will succeed within another one of Earth’s moon’s cycles. I’d only have to wipe it again after that time.” “That’s reassuring.” She pretended not to notice his dry tone. “Cyber Five is just a stop off for supplies and somewhere I can figure out where to go to create a new identity for you.” “Is that necessary?” “Very. I am not quite sure what the F.O.W. would do with you if it is discovered you are from an unsanctioned planet, but I do know I would be in big trouble.” “So it’s in your best interest that I keep my mouth shut.” She slid him a quick glance. This conversation was entering dangerous space. “It is in both of our best interest.” “I’d say you’re the one who’s ass deep in alligators, honey. After all, you kidnapped me. It isn’t like I had much of a choice.” Larissalyia twisted in her seat to focus on the look of satisfaction in his face. He thought he had a hold over her. Her anger threatened to erupt. “Look, barbarian. It would be just as easy for me to jettison you from this ship.” “I doubt you’d do that.” There was no mistaking the smugness in his tone. He too swiveled his chair until he faced her. “Seems to me you went through a lot of trouble on Earth to make sure I took no harm from that Sinion blade thing. You could have just as easily let me die from that wound. You’re not the type to commit cold-blooded murder.” “And how would you know that? I am an alien to you. You have no idea what I may be capable of.” “Let’s just say I’m a great judge of character.”
Larissalyia could think of nothing to counter his self-assurance. He was right. She could not ruthlessly dispose of him in such a manner. Damn, he did have the upper hand. She’d be a fool to let him know that. Giving him a cool glance, she said nothing and turned back to the console. Checking their coordinates, she made a few more unnecessary adjustments. Once again she was aware of his gaze on her. It slid over her like a warm hand gliding down her body. She could almost feel the brush of it and a response sprang to life deep within her. It uncurled deep in the pit of her stomach and spread outward in everwidening circles. It was not an uncomfortable feeling, just unfamiliar. Frowning, she glanced over at him once more. He hadn’t moved. He merely continued to watch her with that fathomless expression. A slight smile quirked his lips and drew her gaze to that portion of his face. He had a beautiful mouth. Firm, the lower lip slightly fuller than the upper. It was a mouth made for kissing. Made for pleasure. “Look, I’ll make you a deal.” He waited until her gaze returned to his. There was a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “I promise to cooperate with you in keeping this F.O.W. ignorant of my presence in the hallowed halls of the known universe, and…” “And?” “And in return, you don’t wipe my memory of all of this.” Larissalyia stared at him, stupefied. “Impossible!” “Why?” She blinked. Why, indeed? Standard procedure dictated alien species not sanctioned by the F.O.W. be kept ignorant of the existence of the federation. Harsh penalties ensured this rule was followed. To her knowledge, no one had ever violated the dictum of the Council. Who would know? But if she agreed with the Earthman, who would know? And was it a gamble she was willing to take? Although she’d known him a short time, something about Victor MacNaught told her she could believe him. She sensed an honorableness about him that instinctively made her trust him from the moment he held out his hand to her in that bar. In her business she had
honed a highly refined instinct when it came to sizing up people. She had never entertained any doubt he was trustworthy. Still, to take such a chance…? “This is an adventure of a lifetime, Lacey,” he went on when she didn’t answer. “I want to experience everything I can. Savor it. I don’t want to have all of this wiped from my memory. I don’t want to forget what it looks like to stare out that screen.” He nodded toward the panoramic view, for a moment recapturing the awe of the experience. When he brought his attention back to her, there was something different in his expression. His gaze slowly slid over her face, lingering on her lips with an intensity that made her breath catch and brought a responsive rush of heat. “I don’t want to forget you, Lacey.” He reached out and took one of her hands, holding it between both of his. He smoothed her fingers open before he slowly raised her hand to his lips to press a tender kiss to the very center of her palm. Larissalyia felt that gentle caress all the way down to her toes. He looked up at her. “Do we have a partnership?” “Partnership?” she repeated in a faint voice, completely undone. He was manipulating her. She knew he was, but was powerless to stop him. Didn’t want to stop him. “I will do whatever you say, behave in any manner you deem appropriate. In return, you don’t remove any of this. I give you my word of honor I will never repeat anything I’ve ever seen or done while I’m with you. Even after I return to Earth.” “Are you willing to take a blood oath on that?” Larissalyia felt rather than saw Tutsi stir in protest, yet the Mandujano warrior said nothing. Her cheeks heated as she realized she had forgotten all about the presence of the third person on the bridge. Somehow with a few words and a tender gesture, Mac had completely scattered her wits. “Yes.” For a moment longer she stared into his eyes, searching for some sign of subterfuge. He gazed back at her, his steadiness convincing her of his sincerity. Well, she was the gambler here. How could she blame him? In his place, she would do anything possible to hold onto this experience.
An assassin can't afford a conscience. It's bad for business.
The Assassin Journals: Hunter © 2007 S.L. Partington Ex-soldier turned assassin Gage Brassan is having a very bad year. First, an unwelcome attack of conscience has him switching targets at the last moment, which doesn't sit too well with the criminal organization that hired him. Then an old girlfriend’s betrayal and a trip to prison stir up memories of his military past and a promise left unfulfilled. Tortured by his haunted past and hunted by the organization he betrayed, Gage seeks the truth behind the execution of the elite military patrol he once commanded. With the help of Jak, a Rigian street kid, and Joanna, the sister of an old army buddy, Gage follows the blood trail from the war-torn Androsian system to the highest echelons of the Galactic Security Force to the corrupt halls of the Rigian People’s Palace. On the run, unsure whom he can trust, he struggles with a growing attraction to Joanna while trying to protect his estranged father from the personal fallout of a life gone wrong. He knows the answers are out there. The trick will be living long enough to find them.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Assassin Journals: Hunter: I woke to darkness and the certain knowledge that I was in very deep shit. Light crept in under the door of the windowless room, and I heard muffled voices outside. I sat up slowly, closing my eyes against the pain in my head and shoulders. Someone had sold me out. Probably the waitress in the bar. I really was going to have to stop trusting women like that. The odds were pretty good that Jak the Rigian Rat Boy rotted in the alley along with the garbage while the barmaid spent his cash.
I listened through the pain in my head, trying to figure out where they’d taken me, but the voices outside the door weren’t dropping many hints. I could only assume the Guilds had elected themselves a new Grand Poobah, and I was at the top of his shit list. Shouldn’t I be dead? The heat and stale air in my windowless cell weren’t doing much to help alleviate my headache. I heard the sound of a lock rattling and looked up as the door opened. Skinny Sorrellian stood over me with a canteen that he tossed on the floor in front of me. I thought about asking him where I was, but he didn’t look like he was in the mood for conversation. He shut and locked the door without speaking. I opened the canteen and sniffed, then took a tentative sip. Water. Another hour or so passed and I dozed, jerking awake when the lock rattled again. Skinny Sorrellian was back. “Get up,” he said. “The master will see you now.” I got to my feet, and he led me from the room. I wouldn’t want to keep the master waiting. I was led into a large, spacious room, furnished with expensive Terran antiques and hand-blown Lyrian crystal. A log fire burned in a black marble fireplace; above it hung a watercolor painted by a renowned Rigian master, five hundred years dead. A massive rosewood desk sat in the center of the room and a man stood before the French doors leading to a stone flagged terrace. Rigian, older, gray streaked his yellow hair. He didn’t turn as I was brought in, just continued staring across the darkening lawn. “You disappoint me, Hunter,” he said at last. “Is there no honor at all among murderers and thieves?” I didn’t reply and he turned to face me. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.” “Do I know you?” “My name is Artur Melardis. I am the Guild Master. I believe you were acquainted with my predecessor. You seemed to have no trouble at all taking the money he paid you to eliminate our esteemed president.” I shrugged. “My shot went astray. Sometimes it happens.”
“An interesting argument. It is not often that an assassin pleads incompetence. You took the Guild’s money and reneged on your contract. A rather substantial sum provided in good faith with the expectation of results. There are those within our organization who scream for your head, but I believe that would be…unproductive. You owe us a death.” “Who did you have in mind this time? Delaren? Again?” “Master Delaren is learning, to his frustration, that attempting to transform a system like ours is rather like trying to bail a sinking ship with a thimble—a valiant attempt, but in the end, an exercise in futility. He has made some modest gains, I will admit. Members of the civilian security patrol are less inclined to accept Guild direction, and financial benefit. The general population does not fear us as they once did. These things are inconvenient, but will be overcome with time. His constitutional amendments, however, are making potential business associates nervous. Several have already canceled rather lucrative contracts. This I cannot allow. Since you are directly responsible for inflicting him upon us, it is only right that you correct your mistake. Kill him, and your debt to the Guilds will be cleared.” There had to be more to it than that. They’d never make it that easy. “I don’t suppose refusing is an option.” “Unfortunately, no.” Melardis moved to the desk and switched on the com-link. “Bring in the boy.” He looked back to me. “Equally unfortunate is the fact that we find ourselves unable to trust your word. Once burned, you understand.” The door behind me opened, and Skinny Sorrellian came in carrying Jak the Rat. The boy’s hands were bound, and an angry, purple bruise decorated his left cheek. Skinny Sorrellian dumped him on the carpet at my feet. “A friend of yours, I believe.” I kept my face carefully neutral as I looked from the boy back to the man behind the desk. “Let him go; he’s no threat to you.” “I am afraid that is not possible. He is our guarantee of your good conduct. Once Master Delaren is dead, we will release him to you, and you both may be on your way.”
They’d release us all right. Into death. “You will spend tonight as my guest. In the morning Oren will drive you back to the city. I expect to hear of our esteemed president’s death within the month. Otherwise, I fear your young friend will meet an unfortunate end.” Skinny Sorrellian picked Jak up and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He drew his weapon and motioned for me to leave the room ahead of him, passing Jak off to a man standing guard outside the door. A nudge in the back with his blaster told me he expected me to precede him down the hallway. I glanced back in time to see the other guard carry Jak through a doorway at the end of the corridor. Fuck. I knew I shouldn’t have come back here.
He used her. She can’t trust him. But the fire burns between them hotter than ever.
7% and Rising © 2007 Kim Knox For Level Seven Observer Cahn Dal, her mission is simple—on the surface. Travel 700 years into the past, alter a complicated equation that will assure the continuation of this timeline, and slip out unnoticed. Except someone else got there first, and he’s waiting for her. Alexander Roen. The man she has loved since she was a teenager, and, to her disgust, finds she still desires as hot and as hard as ever. Roen, former Level One Observer, known traitor to the Foundation, and hampered by an old injury, needs Cahn’s help to find out who’s behind a massive conspiracy to alter the timeline. His body isn’t too broken, though, to forget his long-denied passion for Cahn. Cahn reluctantly agrees to help find the one piece of evidence that will solve Roen’s puzzle. But when she finds it, barely escaping with her life, they find it isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning of a deeper nightmare, one filled with monsters of unimaginable horror.
Enjoy the following excerpt for 7% and Rising: A sharp rap at the door made her jump. “Cahn?” The wooden door swung back. “Would you rather wait for food?” Cahn crossed her arms in front of her breasts. Daily, she landed in time-frames covered in sludge and stark naked, but letting Roen see her in a white vest and tight shorts made her feel exposed. Uneasy. Heat burned in her cheeks. Damn him, she hadn’t blushed since she was a teenager. “Yes. Fine.” She nodded towards the bed, unwilling to move her arms. “I think I need to pass out.” Roen smiled. His dark eyes sparked gold in the lamplight. “You’ve probably forgotten, but it’s called sleep, Cahn.” Her chest tightened. He was being nice again. And that so wasn’t the Roen she knew. “Thank you for the reminder.”
“Here.” He lifted a mug she hadn’t noticed him holding. “This will help.” “What is it?” Roen limped towards her and the rising scent from the mug reached out to tantalise her. Cahn breathed it in and almost sighed. “Your special chocolate.” “Very hot milk chocolate with fresh double cream and caramel syrup…” “You’re evil.” Roen smirked. “I know.” Her hands closed around the mug and, for a long moment, she let herself breathe in the rich aroma of chocolate. Roen knew her weakness. It had been years since she’d last had it. Years. She sipped and the cool, light touch of the cream lingered on her lips, her tongue. She tilted the mug and the rich flow of sweet liquid chocolate made her sigh. Memories rose unwanted. Roen’s bright apartment with its clean painted walls and expensive furniture. Her mother laughing at something Roen had said. Her father quiet and just showing his slow, cautious smile. Roen’s sisters holding up their cups, demanding more from the ancient chocolate pot that he’d pilfered on one of his missions. Dead. They were all dead. Only she and Roen remained. Her hand shook. Hot tears burned her eyes and her throat tightened. Roen grabbed the mug before she spilt it and dumped it on the table. “Cahn?” She turned from him and scrubbed hard at her wet face. “It’s too rich for me,” she muttered. “I’m used to…” Her words faltered at his warm hand on her shoulder. His fingers squeezed, gentle, comforting. Damn the man. Damn him. Why couldn’t he just be himself? His real self? “Roen, stop it.” “What?” His hand slid from the thin cotton of her vest to her bare skin in a slow caress. “This?” Cahn couldn’t breathe. “What…what are you doing?” He brushed away her wet-slicked hair and pressed a kiss below her ear. She shivered. Roen did it again. And again. Soft. Slow. Insane. “Do you still want me to stop?” It was all her little private fantasies come true. Roen wanted her. Her? “Cahn.” His breath stirred her damp skin. “Turn around.”
She closed her eyes and forced herself to face him. His thumb brushed her lips and she jumped. She stared at him, not quite believing the shine of want in his dark eyes. “We have to grab what time we have,” he said. He traced her jaw, fingers light. Cahn froze. He couldn’t mean it. Roen had never wanted her. Never. A smile touched his mouth, edged with regret. His gaze dropped away and he sighed. “But then again, perhaps not in this reality.” He stepped back and his hand fell to his leg as it whirred. “Not as I am.” No. Roen wasn’t getting away that easily. “Yes,” Cahn said and covered his mouth with her own.
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